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“I don’t care,” Draco says, lifting his glass back to his lips. He licks the taste of lime from them before taking another sip of his Mule. Pansy tosses back the last of her scotch and snorts.
“Of course you don’t.”
Draco sweeps one hand at the crowd of gyrating bodies on the dance floor. “I’m sure someone here will help me lick my wounds.” A tall, muscular man catches his eye and smiles. Draco waves his hand languidly, not quite an invitation. He smirks a bit, though it doesn’t touch his eyes.
Pansy shakes her head, black bob swinging beside her jewel-bedecked ears. “I thought you said you didn’t have any wounds.” She lifts her chin, looking down her nose, and smoothes a dramatic hand back through her hair. “‘He’s just a fantastic shag, Pans, that’s all.’”
“Will you stop doing that impression of me? It’s insulting.”
His friend lifts a finger, indicating to the bartender that they’d like another round. She’s the only one who will come to these Muggle bars with him, bless her, though at times like this he’d rather she didn’t. They both pause as their fresh drinks arrive but, of course, Pansy continues as soon as the guy is out of ear shot.
“Stop deflecting, Draco. Is this thing with Potter… wound-able?” She wrinkles her nose when she says ‘thing’ and almost spits the ‘Potter’, but it’s a damn sight better reaction than she’d had when he’d first told her he was fucking the Golden Boy. Or whatever it is they’re doing. Before Christmas, he thought he knew. Now… He shouldn’t care that the arrogant prick has to work tonight, didn’t even mention getting together, just rolled out of Draco’s bed with a sloppy kiss and hopped to his feet to Floo back to the Ministry. It’s all Potter does lately. Work and fuck. But Draco doesn’t care. That’s perfect for him. He’s not at all worried that Harry is growing bored with him.
Pansy is though, he can see it in the creases beside her eyes.
Instead of answering, Draco drains another drink, letting the warm buzz fill his veins, and slides off the stool. Thankfully, she lets him disappear into the crowd.
Muggle club music is loud and thumping with a driving beat that Draco secretly loves, though he’d never admit it to anyone. He closes his eyes and tries to let the music take him, moving his body. Sweat prickles on his scalp and his heart speeds up, but his brain refuses to shut down. His skin feels too tight and he just wants to stop thinking.
Strong hands slide over his hips and pull Draco back against a hard body that is moving in time to the music.
“Not interested,” he purrs menacingly, reaching down to clasp the stranger’s wrists. Only the voice that responds is familiar and kicks Draco’s heart rate up another notch.
“Sorry,” Harry says quietly, pulling back. “Pansy --”
Draco grips Harry’s forearms, shock and elation he will never admit to coursing through him, making his head spin faster than the alcohol. He spins in Potter’s arms, one hand shooting into the messy locks of Harry’s hair and tugging his head back. Harry swallows. Draco resists the urge to lick his throat. Barely.
“Pansy what?”
They are hardly moving, but Harry wraps his arms around Draco’s waist anyway. “Told me I could find you out here. She said you were ‘desperate for dick’ and if I didn’t want you to find someone else I better ‘bloody well do something about it, you utter cock’.” Harry’s cheeks go pink and the smile he gives Draco is crooked. Draco exhales a sigh.
“I…”
“Do you?” Harry asks, cocking his head to one side.
“Do I what?”
“Want someone else?”
The music is so loud, pounding in Draco’s ears, but not loud enough to drown out that question. He wishes it were. What is he supposed to say?
“I thought you had to work?” He’s deflecting, just like Pansy said, but he’s not ready for this talk yet. Even though it’s been brewing since they exchanged gifts over the holidays, he’s still not ready. Harry looks up into his eyes for a long moment, their bodies moving in sync with the music. Then he pulls Draco even closer.
“I do.”
He wants to ask what Harry’s doing at a Muggle club dancing with him then, but he doesn’t dare. No matter what the answer is, he can’t handle it, he thinks. Instead, he’ll just enjoy the moment.
Draco curls his arms around Harry’s neck and leans in to cover his mouth. Harry responds eagerly, opening and sliding his tongue out to meet Draco’s. Harry’s tongue tastes like the ginger from Draco’s drink and he sucks at the warm flesh, making Harry groan. The sound is flint to steel, striking sparks along Draco’s spine that settle in his gut and light him afire. His hardening cock presses against Harry’s side. One of Harry’s hands slides down Draco’s back to his ass, gripping tightly and pulling Draco closer. The kiss goes on and on, growing hotter and wetter as their bodies move against each other in a parody of what they both really want to be doing.
When the cool smoothness of the wall hits Draco’s shoulders, he lifts his head, blinking at their surroundings. Somehow, Harry has maneuvered them into the wide hallway that leads back to the restrooms. The lighting is dim, but it’s clear they’re alone. Draco’s gut knots. His body thrums with arousal and his cock is one hundred percent on board with whatever Harry has planned, but is this all they are? A quick blowjob in a dark hall near the loo at a Muggle club? Something in the vicinity of his chest aches at the thought.
“Harry--”
Before Draco can say another word, the air around them becomes infinitely thicker and then CRACK!
His head whirls as Harry bloody Potter side-along apparates him out of a public Muggle club to the bedroom at Grimmauld.
“I thought--”
“Stop thinking,” Harry murmurs against Draco’s lips, his hands already busily working at the buttons on Draco’s shirt. In short order, he peels it from Draco’s shoulders and his mouth is everywhere. His teeth nip at Draco’s neck, his wet tongue traces around one hard nipple. Every few seconds he lifts his head back up to kiss Draco full on the mouth, deep, heady kisses that make them both tremble.
Harry folds to his knees, drawing Draco’s cock out of his jeans and all he can do is moan Harry’s name as Harry slides every inch of it between his kiss-swollen lips. He swirls his tongue and bobs his head, mimicking things Draco has done to him and he recalls that Harry’s never been with another man besides him and his breath sticks in his throat.
The cool air on his wet shaft shocks him back to reality as Harry pulls away. He stands, green eyes blazing with lust, and pulls Draco toward the bed. It’s nowhere near as big or comfortable as the one Draco has in his apartment, but it’s not terrible either. And it does have the added benefit of smelling of the soap Harry uses. Draco is surrounded by the woodsy scent as Harry pushes him gently back onto the rumpled sheets. He makes quick work of Draco’s jeans, shoes, and socks and then stops, merely staring at all Draco’s pale white skin.
Draco shifts, spreading his legs slightly, enjoying the flare of heat this brings to Harry’s already volcanic gaze. Harry’s clothes are gone so fast he must have Vanished them. Draco blinks, a surprised chuckle trickling through his lips. But then Harry is climbing onto the bed, onto him, his body solid and warm and the generous dusting of hair on his legs and chest are scraping perfectly against Draco.
He knows Harry is busy, that the case he is working on is big and important. He’s heard the rumblings in his own department. He expects Harry is already needed back and that he will get a few glorious minutes of rubbing against each other before everything is all over.
He’s wrong.
Harry takes his time. He runs his palms down Draco’s chest and kisses the faint trail of blond hair that leads down from Draco’s navel. He nibbles on the skin of Draco’s hip and sucks a sharply pleasurable mark onto Draco’s inner thigh. His fingers circle Draco’s ankles and draw his legs up onto the bed, spreading them wide. Then his mouth is back on Draco’s cock, his balls, his tongue sliding into the crease of his arse and holy god Harry is rimming him and sliding his fingers into him and Draco feels like he’s melting from the heat and the pleasure.
He’s barely touched Harry and he’s ready to come but he doesn’t want to, not yet.
“Potter,” he pants. “ Harry .”
Harry obliges the plea in his voice, kissing his way back up Draco’s trembling body to devastate Draco’s mouth. Draco can taste his own salty tang on Harry’s tongue and shudders, but it’s the nudge of the slippery slick head of Harry’s cock against his hole that makes him whimper.
“Okay?” Harry asks against Draco’s lips, still as stone, and Draco knows that despite the lust rolling off Potter in waves of heat, despite being just on the brink of being inside Draco, if he says no, Harry will back off. He doesn’t want Harry to stop, but knowing he would… it makes Draco’s belly flip.
“Yes,” Draco whispers, brushing his lips back and forth against Harry’s. “Definitely yes. All of the yes.”
Harry chuckles as he pushes forward slowly, but the second the tip of his cock kisses Draco’s flesh the chuckle dissolves into a groan. Again, Draco expects thrusts, quick and powerful, wouldn’t mind them at this point, honestly.
Again, he’s wrong.
Harry hooks Draco’s leg high around his waist and leans down on one arm. The other hand pushes back the pale fall of Draco’s hair from his forehead. Harry gazes down at Draco, his face flushed dark, biting his lip. His brow furrows as he rolls his hips, sinking deeply and slowly inside Draco. Draco clings to Harry, blunt nails scratching red lines onto Harry’s tan flesh, trying to urge him on, make him go faster.
Harry takes his time.
They are both slick with sweat, silent but for grunts, moans, whimpers. The whole house is quiet, the sounds of their breath loud. It’s all pressure and heat and just an edge of too much pleasure, almost painful, and then Draco is coming, shaking, his orgasm whipping through him. Harry curls a hand around his spurting cock, pumping it gently, drawing out every last drop of bliss until Draco is gasping and spent on the bed. He kisses Draco, forehead pressed to forehead, and with a few more deep rolls of his hips, his body goes taut. Draco can feel Harry’s cock pulsing, can feel the gooseflesh that races along Harry’s arms. He kisses Harry fiercely, almost biting at his mouth.
Harry collapses onto the bed beside Draco, panting, with a huge grin stretched across his face. Draco chokes out a chuckle. “Pleased with yourself, are you?”
“Are you?” Harry meets Draco’s gaze steadily. It’s a variation of the question he asked earlier, but a simpler one. A safer one. Draco runs his fingertips through Harry’s chest hair.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
But then he’s up on his feet again, pulling on fresh clothes. All of the haste Draco had been expecting before is in each movement.
“Leaving already?” Draco tries to keep the venom out of his voice and he thinks he succeeds because Harry merely nods.
“This case. You know.”
Draco does, he knows that Harry has likely stolen this time to be with him from something he should be doing, something that makes much more sense and does more good than Draco, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to howl. This encounter might not quite have been the quickie he’d imagined, but he wouldn’t mind a bit more, some post-coital cuddling or some such. Something.
“Yeah.”
“Listen, make yourself at home. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah.” Draco wants to say more, but the words feel thick and sticky, catching in his chest. He drags his gaze away from Harry’s earnest face, still faintly flushed with the remnants of his orgasm. He stares up at the ceiling while Harry finishes dressing. There is a moment of awkward silence.
“Draco?”
“Yeah?”
Harry, wand out, waits until Draco turns his head to look at him. When their eyes meet, Harry smiles. It’s the smile that still manages to addle Draco like a stunning spell between the eyes, bright and soft and somehow perfect.
“I love you.”
And then Harry is gone, his final words ringing so loudly in Draco’s ears that he doesn’t hear the crack of apparition. Draco doesn’t know how long he lays there staring at the spot where Harry stood. Could be minutes or hours, while those words melt his every brain cell.
Harry Potter loves him. A slow smile curls Draco’s lips.