Work Text:
Urgh, he is tired. So fucking tired. He can feel his eyes drooping while he is walking through the corridors towards the library. All he wants is to crawl into his bed right now. He can feel the corners off his mouth curling upwards dreamily as he imagines how soft and warm his bed will be, curtesy of the Hogwarts house elves who put hot-water bottles underneath the covers when the castle becomes chilly. But he sighs when he remembers that he has too much work to do. He has two essays due this week and he hasn’t even started yet. How could he have anticipated that eighth year would be this fucking hard?
As if classes by themselves weren’t hard enough, every eighth-year student has to help in the reconstruction of the castle. So, he basically spends his whole day either in class or outside helping Longbottom and Professor Sprout fixing up the greenhouses. His evenings and more often than not his nights are spent in the library studying.
Life could be worse though. He could have been prohibited from returning to finish his education. Hell, he could be rotting in Azkaban right this second. Together with his father. And he probably would, if it weren’t for Saint Potter, who has made out each and every last one of his screw-ups as evidence of his reformed character. According to Potter he hadn’t been a coward who was unable to kill an already half-dead old man, he was an errant boy unwilling to do the unspeakable even though he had never had the chance to develop anything comparing to a moral compass. According to Potter he wasn’t a gutless pushover when he first refused to give Potter up at the Manor and then practically handed his wand over to him on a silver platter, no, he was an upstanding young man, doing his share in ensuring the Side of the Light won the war. He had, of course, done no such thing and even though it makes him chuckle to pretend Potter had actually said those words, Potter had also said no such thing. But just the fact that he spoke up for him and his mother at their respective trials was enough for them to walk free of Azkaban.
He realizes with a start that he is nowhere near the library and groans at his own stupidity. He has been so lost in thought that he has apparently walked straight past his destination. Looking around, he isn’t quite sure where he is. There are almost no portraits on the walls and the torches seem to be farther in between because the light seems dimmer here than in the rest of the castle. For a second, he wonders if he should feel scared right now. The castle isn’t fully restored yet and there could be residual dark magic lurking behind every corner, especially in the lesser used parts of the castle. He contemplates turning around and heading back to wherever he came from, but that’s when he hears it.
A soft whimper comes from somewhere down the corridor and before he has even decided to, he is walking towards the sound his exhaustion and his tasks forgotten. Someone might be hurt? The castle isn’t safe off the highly frequented paths. His steps quicken, when he hears it again, only slightly wondering if he even is the kind of person who runs to help people in need. Maybe Potter was right, maybe he has changed, because right now he is very obviously hurrying towards a potential person in need of help. He tracks the whimpers down to a door on the right side of the corridor, just behind a corner. He presses his ear against the smooth surface of the door in an attempt to get a clearer picture of what is awaiting him beyond. Someone is sniffling and whimpering there, but he cannot detect movement. It’s probably safe to go in. His hand that has already been resting on the door knob twists slightly and the door swings free.
It is that moment, that he realizes that he is screwed. Beyond screwed really. For he is hit with the most delicious scent of summer rain and chocolate and wood. He gasps for air, feeling his good sense leaving the building as he steps into the room as if in trance. Every cell in his body is alight with electricity while his body moves off its own accord, conscious thought suddenly exiled to a small corner in the back of his head, stepping farther into the room.
He barely registers that he has walked into an abandoned classroom, functioning on instinct alone. There are rows of benches in which once students sat, but he doesn’t spare them a glance as he makes his way straight for the teacher’s desk at the opposite end of the room, drawn there by this unearthly scent that has him half hard and barely coherent. The whimpers become more pronounced as he nears the desk and when he rounds it, he finally sees their source.
He gasps at the display before him, his mouth runs dry, his cock twitches painfully in his pants, suddenly growing fully erect. He is overcome with the overpowering need to mount and fuck and kiss and bite. So much so, that it is hard to breathe. He gasps again and again, while his heart hammers in his chest as if it wants to escape his ribcage.
It is Potter. Of course, it is. Who else could it be?
He falls to his knees in front the other boy, barely registering the sharp pain of his knees hitting the rough stone floor. Potter is huddled against the desk, sitting on his cloak. He is trembling, his skin is flushed and it is only when he raises his head that Draco realizes that Potter is crying.
By some miracle, enough conscious thought returns to him at the sight of the state that Potter is in that he manages to keep himself from tackling the other boy to the ground and ripping his clothes from his body. A voice inside his brain growls at him to do it anyway, to sink his cock between Potter’s cheeks, to stretch, to bite, to own. It would be so easy. He can see that Potter wouldn’t be able to fight him off, but maybe he has really changed, because he just kneels before Potter and gazes at him, making a conscious effort to let his outstretched arms fall back to his sides. It is harder than anything he has done in his life.
Potter looks feverish with a light sheen of sweat covering his flushed skin. Parts of his hair stick up in every direction while other parts are pasted to the damp skin of his face, making it look even worse than usual. His eyes are red rimmed and tear tracks are running down his cheeks. He buries his face in his hands, shaking all over with sobs wrecking his body, before he looks back up at Draco.
“What is happening to me?” he asks desperately. His eyes are dark and pleading and no matter how much the voice inside his head is screaming at him to just take him, Draco cannot bring himself to move. He looks into Potter’s eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“Everything hurts, I feel so hot, every inch of my body is itching like crazy. What is happening to me?” he repeats. Draco sits down in front of Potter cross-legged, even when his cock is painfully constricted by his trousers, even when he is hazy with lust.
“I feel horrible. I feel like my skin is too tight for my body, like it’s burning off. I feel…,” Potter breaks off, apparently unable to adequately describe what he is feeling.
“Empty?” Draco supplies and fresh tears well in Potter’s eyes when all he can do is nod. Draco doesn’t know what to do, how to comfort the other boy. He wants to reach out, but surely that is not what he and Potter do. They stare at each other in silence for a couple of minutes, Potter drops his head again, sobbing into his hands and Draco fights down the urge to bend the other boy over and just ram his throbbing cock inside his hole right this second. Now that he is so close to him, he can smell the slick that is pouring out of him. It makes his mouth water. He wants to taste him, wants to lose himself in the other boy, but the misery that plays out in front of him keeps him seated.
“You’re in heat,” Draco says, stating the obvious. The signs are all there. Potter’s body temperature is obviously raised, he is sweating and his blood rushes close to the surface, he is hard, if the bulge in his trousers is anything to go by and if the smell and the dark stains on the hindsight of Potter’s trousers and cloak are anything to go by, he is leaking copious amounts of slick.
“No,” Potter denies.
“Yes, you are,” Draco argues, his voice is husky and strained. It takes all of his self-control not to grab the other boy and have his way with him, when his cock and at least sixty percent of his brain are telling him to.
“No,” Potter argues, “I’m supposed to be an alpha.” He looks at Draco desperately.
“But you’re an omega,” he answers softly, again stating the obvious.
“No. I defeated Voldemort. An omega couldn’t have done that,” Potter retorts. He is grasping for straws now. Trying to will away his secondary gender, when it is so obviously presenting itself.
“You did,” says Draco gently.
“Only an alpha could have done that, couldn’t they?” Potter tries. Still looking at Draco pleadingly, his eyes wide, waiting for Draco to confirm what he wants to be true so badly.
“You presented late due to the stress, didn’t you? It happened to me too,” Draco says, not answering Potter’s question. He knows that he isn’t ready to accept his secondary gender. But Draco is also not willing to lie to him. Potter nods.
“You weren’t prepared for it, were you?” he asks and Potter nods again. “I’m sorry. It must be awful.” Potter buries his face back into his hands, sobbing freely now. He is miserable. From what he looks like, he has been in this room for a while. The cloak beneath him is soaked through with slick, the way his whole body is trembling tells Draco that he has been in heat for a while already. Has Potter been in class yesterday? He cannot remember. He grows impossibly harder at the thought of Potter hiding his heat alone in an abandoned classroom, hoping that nobody will find him and maybe also hoping, even if it’s just for the briefest moments, that someone will come and help him through it.
“I can help you,” Draco offers, his voice breathless.
“Are you an omega, too?” Potter asks and even though he would probably have believed Draco if he lied now, even though he is sure that he is able to smell the difference, he shakes his head.
“No,” he answers, making his voice soft, “I’m an alpha.” Potter laughs bitterly.
“How are you an alpha and I’m an omega?” he asks incredulously. He is right, of course. Draco has always been cowardly while Potter has been brave, facing the dangers and threats head on, while Draco had let himself be pushed around like a piece on a chess board.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. No one has been more surprised by his manifestation than he himself. He knows what a coward he is. He doesn’t fit the typical alpha physical traits either. He is still slim and fair and doesn’t compare to the brutish built he knows many alphas to have. Except maybe for his cock.
“You need to be knotted,” he states, but Potter shakes his head.
“No! I need to knot someone, not be knotted. It’s not right. I have proved myself,” he whispers, new tears falling down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Draco replies, “But it’s what you need. It’s going to make you feel better.” Potter breaks out into an incredulous laugh.
“And you’re selflessly offering? Piss off, Malfoy. You have enough gossip to spread without buggering me,” he says bitterly. Draco scoots closer, reaching out for Potter, cupping his face in one hand. He runs his thumb along Potter’s lower lip, while biting his own in an attempt to keep at least some resemblance of distance. Potter’s omega isn’t able to resist the touch though and he leans into it whining quietly. His eyes flutter closed and his cheeks if possible redden even more.
“Who would believe me?” he begins speaking, voice low, in an attempt to make it clear to the other boy that he means no harm. “As soon as your heat is over, you can go on telling the others that you’re an alpha. I can set you up with the scent suppressing potions you need for that.”
“Why would you do that?” Potter whispers.
“I – I don’t know,” he stutters, “Maybe I just want to do right by you for once.” For a few moments Potter scrutinizes him, probably weighing up his options of either letting Draco help him through this or keep on suffering. He seems to have come to a conclusion, because he says, “So, how do we do this?” He blushes even more furiously at his own boldness, making the scent around him intensify and Draco groan.
“I would charm the door locked and the room soundproof and then I could transfigure this desk into a bed, if you want,” he answers.
“Okay,” is all Potter says, heaving a resigned breath. Draco scrambles to his feet, firing the strongest locking charm he knows at the door and then casting several silencing charms, before he gets to work on the desk. They are left with a grand fourposter bed much like Draco’s bed in the Slytherin dorms, with curtains hanging on each side, which they proceed to draw shut while climbing into the bed. Potter is weak, just getting onto the bed seems like an almost impossible task for him and Draco is tempted to reach out and help him, but figures there is only so much help that Potter is willing to accept before he snaps and blows this whole thing off. And no matter how true his words have been, how much he really wants to do right by him, for whatever reason, his cock is also screaming at him not to screw this up.
When Potter has made it into the bed and Draco has drawn all the blinds and added a couple off silencing charms just for good measure, they stare at each other awkwardly. Potter seems to be mulling something over, biting his lips in a way that makes Draco’s breath catch as wave upon powerful wave of arousal wash over him. It is pure torture to sit here, just looking at Potter when really, he wants to tear him apart. Finally, Potter speaks, “Am I going to end up pregnant?”
It would have been easy to laugh at him. The Great Saviour who has been so sure that he would present alpha that he has never bothered to learn anything about the other possibilities.
“Do you want to?” he asks instead. The look that Potter gives him tells him that he has never anticipated to have a choice here.
“I –,” he breaks off, rubbing his shaking hands over his sweaty face. “I want a family, but –,” he breaks off again, unable to voice his thoughts.
“Just not with me,” Draco supplies and if there is a hint of bitterness in his voice who can blame him in the face of open rejection? “There are spells for that. You don’t have to worry about it,” he adds quickly, saving Potter the inconvenience of responding. Potter gasps as Draco grabs his wand and performs the necessary spells that prevent conception.
“Why do you know all this?” Potter asks and Draco shrugs. “I read,” he answers shortly. All this talking is becoming too much, when he is trapped in this confined space with an omega in heat and this scent that has his cock leaking and his fingers itching to grab the other boy.
Deciding that he cannot take it anymore and that he has been patient enough now, his hands fly to the buttons of his shirt and he begins to undo them.
“Wait,” Potter calls out and his hands still, but he only half manages to stifle a frustrated groan.
“What is it? I’m– this is– Potter, this is killing me. Do you know how much self-control it takes for me to have this conversation with you? In about five minutes my alpha is going to take over and then there is no way of knowing what I might do. Let’s get on with it before I lose control, before I hurt you,” he rants or whines, a distinction Draco is no longer able to make.
“I’m scared,” Potter says and tears well up in his big green eyes again. He is such a mess and for some twisted reason that is what keeps Draco grounded. Also it is fucking hot to see Potter so insecure. He has always been the strong and brave one of the two of them. It might be cruel but Potter being all vulnerable turns him on to no end. He scoots forward, straddling Potter’s lap and taking his face into his hands.
“I know, but I’m going to make this good,” he whispers before he leans down and brings their lips together and it is pure bliss. Everything, his whole being zeros down to the tiny part of his anatomy that is so intimately connected with Potter. The urge to rut and take and pull and thrust becomes almost unbearable and he whimpers against Potter’s lips. They break apart before anything more can happen.
“How?” Potter asks, “Have you done this before?” Draco shakes his head angling his head to kiss the other boy again, but Potter pulls farther back and even though he could easily overpower him in his state, he lets him hold onto the pretence that he has any sort of control over the situation.
“Because this is you and me. And for all the shit we have put each other through, I just know that this is going to work,” he says. For some reason it works on Potter, even though Draco knows that he is spouting utter bullshit. The other boy leans in again and when their lips touch again. This time, Potter opens his mouth and lets his tongue run along the seam of Draco’s bottom lip. His answering groan is obscene and becomes even more so when he angles his hips downwards and grinds his throbbing erection against Potter’s own.
The world around him ceases to exist, all his senses focus on what is in front of him, Potter squirming and moaning, hot and damp and smelling oh so good. He explores Potter’s mouth with his tongue, committing every sensation to memory. His hands roam the other boy’s body, wanting to feel every inch of him. For this is pure perfection and also very much the only time he will ever experience it.
They fall back onto the bed, Potter resting on his back and Draco on top of him. Their bodies slot together flawlessly, Draco’s narrow hips are settled between Potter’s spread thighs, their cocks sliding together with every movement and Draco would have been able to do this forever if it weren’t for so many layers of cloth in between them. The need for skin on skin contact increases in both of them and soon they are pulling and tearing at each other’s shirts and trousers, albeit with little success, while plundering each other’s mouths at the same time.
Desperate fingers are clawing at Draco’s belt, willing the disruptive garment gone but at the same time unable to control themselves enough to make a precise effort. The way Draco keeps grinding his hips down into Potter’s isn’t really helping either, but it takes him another couple of seconds, before he can lift himself off Potter a couple of inches. They are still attached at the mouth and Potter whines into his mouth at the loss of contact, but as soon as he realises what Draco is doing he is eager to participate. They break apart, both of them getting rid of their own clothes urgently, before sinking back into their former position with Draco between Potter’s thighs, kissing and rutting, enjoying the glorious contact of skin on heated skin.
“Fuck,” Draco murmurs when their cocks brush together for the first time without any insipid layers of cloth between them. He thrusts against Potter once, twice and suddenly the boy beneath him goes rigid, throwing his head back. “I’m gonna… I think I’m gonna…,” Potter moans but the relief he has been hoping for doesn’t come which makes it all the hotter to watch him. Draco’s cock twitches in response to the display before him, while he keeps his eyes fixed on Potter’s face, committing every last little moan to memory. Potter mewls in frustration.
“I’m sorry, Potter,“ Draco whispers into the other boy’s ear. “You won’t be able to come without my knot.”
“D-don’t,” Potter stutters. Draco is at a loss as to what he is talking about. Doesn’t he want to do this after all? He is not sure if he were able to stop himself now. “Don’t call me that,” he clarifies and relief courses through Draco’s body.
“What? Potter?” Potter nods. “It is your name, though.” He has no desire to call him by his given name. That’s a slippery slope he’d rather stay clear of.
“Call me Harry, D-draco,” Potter answers. The sound of his name on Potter’s lips runs through him like electric voltage. Draco heaves a sigh. Well, there goes his heart. For surely all of this will be that much more intimate and that much harder to recover from with them calling each other by their first names. But to hell with it, he thinks as he rocks his hips against Potter’s again and it is the single fucking most perfect sensation he has ever felt.
“Fuck,” Potter moans, “I need…” But apparently, he isn’t sure what he needs exactly, because he trails off.
“My cock,” Draco hums into his ears, “You’re aching for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Potter answers, voice unsure. Draco lets his hand travel down his side, towards his hipbone, which he circles with his thumb, before he slips his fingers even lower, letting them skim along the wetness that is seeping out of Potter’s hole.
“Look how wet you are for me, Harry. Like the good little omega that you are.” Potter moans loudly at the praise, bucking his hips upwards towards Draco, ensuring that Draco’s fingers slip between his messy, wet cheeks on his way back down.
“Do you want my fingers, Harry?” he murmurs and Potter nods eagerly.
“Yes, please Draco, I want… I need,” he begs almost incoherent.
Draco abandons his position between Potter’s legs and lies down next to him, propped up on his elbow. He pushes one of Potter’s legs up, exposing his entrance and trails his fingers through the dripping wet cleft, circling Potter’s hole with the tip of his index finger before starting to push against the ring of muscles. Potter really must have been in heat for quite some time now, because his finger meets next to no resistance on its way inside. He pushes his finger into the tight heat in one swift motion until it can go no further.
“Oh god, Draco,” breathes Potter next to him. Draco pumps his finger in and out a couple of times before he speaks again.
“Are you ready for another?” he asks, looking at Potter’s slack jawed face. His eyes fall open and lock with Draco’s. He looks unsure again, scared and Draco curls his finger up just the tiniest fraction, helping Potter with his decision.
“Yes,” Potter hisses in response to the brush against his prostate and barely a second later Draco pushes inside of him with two fingers.
“How does it feel?” He pulls his fingers out of Potter’s body, until only the very tips are still inside of him and then slides them in again, curling them up again touching that tight bundle of nerves that he sometimes likes to brush his own fingers against when he is wanking. This time he targets Potter’s prostate with more confidence and his whole body jerks in response.
“Good. Like nothing I’ve ever felt,” Potter answers with a strained voice. Draco lets his eyes wander over Potter’s body, while he keeps working his fingers in and out. Potter isn’t the typical omega either. He has way more muscle than is typical, his shoulders are broader, his hips narrower. It is no question that he would pass as alpha if he wanted to. His skin is littered with scars from the war that he has just ended, making him just that much more beautiful. Draco groans at his own stupidity. Calling Potter by his first name and thinking of him as beautiful isn’t going to make it easier, when Potter’s heat is over and he doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore, when he decides to mate another alpha and bear his children. Irrational jealousy over something that was never his and that could have never been his surges through him and he starts pumping his fingers with more force.
“Yes, Draco,” Harry whines, “Yes.”
His eyes travel to Potter’s cock, that lies heavy and leaking on his flat stomach. It looks painfully hard, the head almost purple in colour, like he has been hard for days.
“How long have you been like this?” he blurts.
“I– I don’t– know,” Potter pants, “A day? Two?” Draco leans in to brush his nose along Potter’s jaw, up to his ear and whispers, “Don’t worry, I’m going to make it better.” He adds a third finger then, stretching Potter even more, preparing him for his cock and eventually for his knot. Soon his fingers slide into Potter’s body without much resistance and as the other boy begins to squirm he knows that his fingers aren’t enough for him anymore. His omega needs more, even when Potter is still scared of it. He pulls his fingers free and immediately Potter goes stiff, anticipating what is to follow.
“Shhh,” Draco makes, “don’t be scared.” He lets his right hand wander over Potter’s body again, brushing it over his swollen cock, making it twitch and a small droplet of precome drip onto Potter’s stomach.
“Turn around on your side, Harry,” he whispers.
“W–why?” Potter stutters.
“It makes it easier and it also gives you more control. This way you can pull away any time you want to, decide on how deep and in which angle I’m penetrating you,” he explains. This position also grants him the chance to hold Potter in his arms while he fucks into him. “It will also be more comfortable while we wait for my knot to go down.”
But Potter doesn’t move, instead he looks up at him with wide fearful eyes, his lashes coated with moisture again. “Is it going to hurt? The knot?” he asks.
“From what I’ve read, yes, but it is also going to feel really good,” he answers. Draco leans down and kisses him, bringing up his free hand to brush away one tear that has escaped from Potter’s eyes.
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Potter says quietly. Draco chuckles, “I know. You just have to let it happen.”
“I’m scared,” he whispers.
“Don’t be. You have accomplished so much more than this. And I’ll be here. I won’t let go off you,” Draco whispers back. Potter leans in to kiss Draco one last time before he does as he was told and turns around, presenting Draco with his arse.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are like this,” Draco murmurs and kisses Potter’s shoulder, while taking hold of his cock and guiding it towards Potter’s entrance. He rubs the head of his cock over it a couple of times until Potter relaxes.
“I’m going to push in now,” he warns and Potter nods curtly. His cock is met with more resistance than his fingers were just moment earlier, but soon he breaches the ring of muscles and the head slips inside. The sudden tight heat that grips Draco tears a strangled “Fuck!” from his lips. He gives Potter a moment to adjust, before he starts to thrust shallowly, inching deeper inside with his stroke. Finally, he is fully sheathed and he reaches his arms around Potter pulling him close.
“You okay?” he asks, “How does it feel?”
“Good,” Potter groans, “So fucking good. Please move.” But Draco doesn’t, even when every cell in his body is screaming at him to get on with it. Instead he tightens the hold of his arms on Potter and kisses his shoulders and neck, running his tongue along the shell of his ear, drawing impatient moans from the other boy.
“Please, Draco, please,” he begs and it is only when Potter starts to rock back against him, that he draws his hips back, so that only the tip of his cock remains engulfed inside Potter, and pushes back in in one long, slow thrust.
“Oh God,” Potter moans and it’s like music to Draco’s ears. He pulls out again and thrusts back in in a slow and controlled motion, getting Potter accustomed to the new sensation of having another man’s cock in his ass. He lets his hands roam over Potter’s body again, towards his chest, pinching one nipple gently and drawing another strained groan from him.
“H-how does it feel?” Potter stutters, repeating his own question back to him.
“Mhh, you’re tight,” Draco groans, nuzzling Potter’s neck, leaving small kisses on every inch of skin that he can reach.
“I-is that g-good?” Despite himself, Draco snorts quietly. What else could it be?
“The best,” he answers, never breaking his rhythm of pulling out and thrusting back in slowly. It isn’t enough, he needs more, his body is overwhelmed with sensations that all leave him wanting to fuck into the other boy ruthlessly, but he holds back. He doesn’t know from where he takes the strength or why exactly he feels this way, but somehow Potter’s pleasure has become more important than his own.
His hands are still wandering over Potter’s body, caressing and manipulating his flesh on their way, until his right hand reaches Potter’s cock. He wraps his fingers around the hard, heated flesh and begins to stroke the other boy in time with his thrusts. Potter’s cock feels velvety soft against his hand. It is quite a lot bigger than is usual for an omega penis, big enough to stretch a person’s rim painfully when he is fucking them. The thought of letting Potter, an omega, fuck him, makes his cock jump where it is buried in the other’s tight channel. Soon his thigh muscles begin to tremble from the exertion of keeping up the slow pace.
“Draco,” Potter whimpers, “More… I need…”
“Merlin, yes,” he hisses and ups his pace, each time pulling almost all the way out of Potter’s tight, clinging heat and then pushing back inside. To be buried inside Potter is the most perfect sensation Draco has ever felt. It feels like coming home, like everything that has always been missing from his life. All the more does his heart constrict when the more rational part of his brain tells him that this is not that. This is not Draco coming home, this is not companionship or love or mating, this is born out of pure necessity. Potter needed someone to scratch an itch. Not more, not less. He pushes his dark thoughts away, concentrating on the task at hand, determined to get as much enjoyment out of this as he can. He can pine away later.
He pushes himself up on his elbow, while at the same time keeping up his pace of rapidly thrusting into Potter’s body. Taking his hand off of the other boy’s cock, he turns Potter’s head so he faces him and engages him in an awkward sideways kiss. Potter moans filthily into his mouth, when Draco drops his hand back to his cock and resumes his stroking.
This. This moment is it. Pure and utter perfection. His cock buried to the hilt inside Potter’s body, Potter kissing him eagerly, sloppily, moaning into his mouth, while he thrusts into Draco’s fist, impaling himself on Draco’s cock with every backwards motion. Draco wants to stay like this forever, but of course his treacherous body has its own ideas.
He can feel his climax approaching, how his balls are slowly drawing up and how the passage into Potter’s body becomes harder as his cock begins to grow with the beginning of his knot.
“Mhh, you feel bigger,” Potter sighs.
“I’m close,” Draco whispers against Potter’s lips, “It’s my knot.” Suddenly Potter jerks away from him, scrambling to get some space between the two of them, but Draco reacts quickly, pulling him against his chest.
“I’ve got you, love, don’t panic,” he blurts, chest rising and falling quickly as adrenaline courses through his body. Potter struggles against his grip.
“Let me go, Draco, please,” he begs, voice high with panic.
“Shhh Harry, calm down. I’m going to stop if you want me to,” he says and it is the most painful thing he has ever said. Potter breathes heavily, having noticed that Draco has stopped to move, he relaxes a fraction.
“Do you want me to stop?” Draco asked, “Do you want me to pull out and leave?” He resumes stroking Potter’s heated skin.
“I feel better, now,” Potter says shakily and they both know he is lying.
“I’m glad,” Draco answers, feeling beat down. Potter has made his decision. He doesn’t want this after all, so Draco releases Potter from his embrace and begins to pull out.
“Wait!” Potter calls, turning towards Draco, making Draco’s cock slip out of him in the motion.
“What?” Draco hisses back and Potter recoils from him. “Sorry,” he whispers, scooting closer to the other boy again, taking his face into his hands, stroking his jaw tenderly. “I’m sorry. This is torture. My biology demands to knot, just like yours demands that you be knotted. It’s driving me insane. I feel like I’m not in control of myself,” he rants, “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want, Harry. I don’t have to knot you. I can stay with you for a while, but eventually I will have to put some distance between us before I lose my mind.”
“What will happen if we stop now?” Potter asks tentatively, casting his eyes down in embarrassment.
“I don’t know if that’s the question you should be asking yourself,” Draco counters.
“Why not? What question should I be asking myself?” Draco rolls his eyes at him, because it should be fucking obvious and it doesn’t make him feel very good about himself to be the one to raise this question.
“The question you should ask yourself is whether you should rather be doing this with someone else besides me,” he answers, trying but failing to make his voice sound unaffected.
“Who should I be doing this with then?” Potter asks incredulously, earning himself an angry glare from Draco for making him spell it out for him.
“How should I know? Weasley? Longbottom? Thomas? Or any of your little Gryffindor pals,” he snaps.
“Ew! Ron? Really Draco!? Ew! Just… ew,” Potter splutters and after a few moments he breaks out into incredulous laughter. The corners of Draco’s mouth twitch a little, but he struggles to remain stern-faced.
“I’m sorry,” Potter chuckles, “You want me to do this with Ron?” For the first time in the hour or so that the two of them have been together Potter doesn’t look scared or a mess, but light and almost happy. He cannot help himself, just for this it all seems worth it.
“No,” he says calmly, “I want you to do this with someone you actually like.”
“But I asked for… you,” Potter stutters, looking up at him shyly. Draco’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“I… you… what?” Draco stammers, but Potter just shrugs. “How is that even possible?” Potter shrugs again.
“I don’t know. I just thought of you focused on how I wanted you to take care of me and then you came,” he says almost reluctantly, eyes downcast, refusing to meet Draco’s eyes. His chest contracts painfully for a second and then it feels like something inside him breaks, but instead of more pain, warmth spreads in his chest. He lunges forward, pushing Harry on his back in the process and kisses him deeply. Harry spreads his thighs easily and Draco slips between them. Their cocks, which in all this talking have never wavered, brush together in the sweetest friction, making both of them gasp. “Harry,” Draco moans against his lips at he starts rocking lightly against him again.
They stay like this for a couple of minutes. Kissing deeply, rutting against each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. But eventually they break apart.
“So, what happens if we don’t do this?” Harry repeats. It is hard to remember everything that Draco has read about omegas and their heats when his cock is snugly pressed between their bodies, rubbing against Harry’s.
“Well, from what I’ve read it seems that your heat will drag on to up to a week. You will feel like you did when I found you, worse possibly, but it is going to go away on its own at some point. You don’t need me to get through this,” he recounts the facts, stressing that Harry can do this on his own if he so desires.
“And if we do this?” Harry prods.
“I’m going to knot you and your symptoms will ease. I might have to knot you a second or third time, but then you should be over the worst of it. You might be a little hornier than usual, but then again what even constitutes normal horniness for an eighteen-year-old!?” They both snort, then kiss, then laugh again and finally sink into another bout of frantic kissing.
“Okay,” Harry whispers, “I want you to knot me.” Draco pulls back, so that he can get a good look at Harry’s face. He brushes a few strands of his hair out of his face, where they had been plastered on his damp forehead.
“You sure?” Harry nods and leans in for another kiss.
“You’re going to stop when I ask you to,” he says. It is not a question. It is as if Harry is sure that Draco will. Draco just hopes that he can live up to it. “And I want to see you,” Harry continues.
“But it’s going to be easier on your side,” Draco argues. It’s true, but also it seems impossibly intimate to look into Potter’s face while doing it.
“I don’t care,” Harry simply states and that is that. “Now get that cock inside of me, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.” Draco chuckles, before he leans in and kisses Harry again while simultaneously letting one hand wander towards Harry’s entrance.
“Mhh, so wet,” he murmurs and circles the opening with his index finger. Harry tries pushing against it in an attempt to speed along the process. But Draco keeps teasing him. Harry whines pathetically and finally Draco takes mercy on him and pushes his finger inside. Harry’s hole is still loose from their earlier activities, but Draco isn’t taking any risks of hurting him. He pulls out his finger and pushes back in with two.
“Do the thing,” Harry pants, while shamelessly rocking his hips into Draco’s fingers.
“What thing?” Draco asks, ducking his head and smiling around one of Harry’s nipples as he lightly bites down on it. He has a pretty good idea what Harry is talking about, but still feels like teasing him.
“The thing where you touch that spot,” Harry tries to clarify, blushing in embarrassment while looking into Draco’s eyes, unwilling to back down from the unspoken challenge.
“You will have to be more specific. I’m touching a lot of spots right now,” he whispers as his fingers keep pumping in and out of Harry’s body.
“Inside me, Draco. Touch that spot inside me. Please,” Harry begs and how could Draco deny him when he begged so prettily. “Oh… Draco…nnngh,” Harry moans, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. Soon his fingers aren’t enough anymore. Harry’s omega craves Draco’s knot and Harry begins to whine in frustration.
“Please, Draco, please.” Draco leaves him hanging for a couple of moments more, before he says, “Answer me one question first and then you’ll get my cock.”
“Anything. Draco, please,” Harry begs, fucking himself on Draco’s fingers desperately, searching for a release that only Draco’s cock will be able to give him.
“Why did you ask for me?” he whispers. Harry’s eyes snap open, before he casts his eyelids down in embarrassment, turning his face away from Draco. He grabs onto Harry’s chin and turns his head back, so that they face each other again. Harry is still reluctant to talk, so Draco lets go of his face and takes his cock in hand instead, rubbing it against Harry’s opening.
“Answer the question, Harry,” he purrs while he keeps up his torture.
“I don’t know… I just… I don’t… I think you’re hot, okay?” Harry snaps after choking on his words for a couple of seconds.
“Oh,” Draco taunts, but without heat, “So you have like a school girl crush on me? Tell me, do you practice your signature with my last name underneath your school work?” A surprised laugh it ripped from Harry’s throat and Draco is so enthralled by the movement of his throat that he leans in and licks along it.
“You have called me love at least once this evening and you said I was beautiful,” Harry retorts indignantly as if they were still trying to one up each other on the Quidditch pitch. But he is also still chuckling which makes it so much better than anything they have done before.
“You are,” Draco mumbles against Harry’s throat.
“Do shut up and put that cock inside me,” Harry orders him. Draco increases the pressure on Harry’s hole and slips inside, both of them hiss at the sensation of being so intimately connected again. Harry is still loose from before, so he buries himself balls deep in one swift motion.
“You are beautiful though,” he groans, “What could be more beautiful than the Boy Who Lived begging for your cock.” He leans in then and swallows Harry’s indignant retort in a passionate kiss. He pulls out of Harry’s body until only the very tip of his cock remains inside Harry and then thrusts back in.
By now he is desperate for release and starts off on a quicker pace than before. Harry only urges him on to go faster, deeper, meeting his every thrust with his hips, all humour forgotten now. They kiss deeply and sloppily and again Draco is overwhelmed with how perfect it feels to be with Harry in this way. He doesn’t know what exactly Harry’s words mean, but the hope that this might lead to what Draco is so desperately craving makes his every nerve sing with pleasure. Well, his cock in Harry’s arse might have a little to do with that as well. But he feels lighter now that the weight of what he cannot have isn’t weighing him down anymore.
He rests his forehead against Harry’s, breathing him in, marvelling at the fact that he is allowed to touch the other boy like this. For the second time this evening, he can feel his orgasm approaching. He feels his balls drawing up, the muscles in his lower abdomen tense in preparation of what is to come. His cock doesn’t slide as easily into Harry’s body as it did a second ago, it catches on Harry’s rim, making the other boy gasp.
“I’m close, Harry,” he warns and immediately Harry’s body tenses, but instead of pulling away he nods jerkily.
“Do you want me to pull out?” he asks, because he needs to make sure that Harry wants this, while he is at the same time unsure if he could stop himself now.
“N-no,” Harry stutters.
“Relax,” he says and he leans in and kisses him again, while at the same time wrapping one of his hands around Harry’s cock in order to help distract him from his fears. Harry’s muscles release the iron grip they have had on his cock and finally Draco feels free to let go. He pumps his hips a couple of times more, penetrating Harry deeply, but not pulling all the way out anymore and then he comes, spurting his release into Harry’s hot body, groaning as he can feel his cock pulsing and growing inside Harry, stretching him further and further.
Harry stays calm for a few moments, but Draco’s cock is still growing inside him and when Draco opens his eyes to look at him, he can see the rising panic in his eyes.
“Shhh,” he soothes. But Harry tenses up again.
“It hurts, Draco. It hurts, get it out,” Harry almost squeals. His eyes are getting moist again and Draco can see that he must be overwhelmed from a manifestation that he hasn’t anticipated an uncomfortable heat and needs that aren’t quite painless either.
“Shhh,” Draco makes again, “stay calm, don’t tense up, try to relax around it.”
“No, get it out,” Harry says, panic still evident in his voice.
“Love, calm down,” Draco says, “You can do this. Your body is made for this. You have done so good up until now, you can do this too.” Harry visibly relaxes at the praise, a shiver running through him, and suddenly Draco remembers that being an omega isn’t about sex and knotting only, it is also about submission, about pleasing the alpha.
“You’ve done so well, Harry.” Another shiver wrecks Harry’s body. “You’ve taken my cock beautifully.” Harry moans quietly. “You’re such a good omega with my knot in your tight gorgeous ass.” Harry’s moans become more pronounced as Draco keeps on praising him. Draco starts rocking into him lightly and Harry’s eyes drift shut in pleasure.
“How does it feel,” he asks.
“Better,” Harry answers, “So full.” Draco lifts one of Harry’s legs and lets himself fall to the side, spooning Harry. He is completely and utterly spent and couldn’t hold himself up any longer if he wanted to. He caresses every inch of Harry’s body that he can reach and when he reaches his still hard cock he wraps his hand around it and starts stroking it.
“You didn’t come?” he asks, feeling inconsiderate and stupid at the question.
“N-no. I don’t need to though,” Harry answers.
“If you want this to work then you need to,” he states and resumes his ministrations of Harry’s penis. He slowly pulls the foreskin back and swipes his thumb over the sensible head, making Harry involuntarily push back against his knot. Again, he starts rocking into him lightly, moving as much as he can while he is held into place by his swollen penis. From what he has read on alpha/omega sex he knows that he must be pressing down on Harry’s prostate quite heavily and if Harry’s moaning is anything to go by it seems that his books were right.
“Hmm, I can’t wait for you to come on my cock,” he whispers.
“I’m scared,” Harry repeats. He still holds back, too scared of the mechanics to let himself enjoy what his body has in store for him.
“You do so good, Harry,” Draco begins to praise him again, “You’re going to do well now, too. You’re going to come on my knot and you’re going to look beautiful doing so. You’re my good omega, are you not?”
“Please Draco, it’s going to tear me apart,” he whispers fearfully.
“No, its not. You’re going to do this, because you’re a good omega,” he says.
“Yes,” Harry hisses.
“I want to feel you clamp down on me, when you come. I want to hear you moan my name. I want you to think of only me. Because you’re a good omega,” Draco continues and the mixture of praise and dirty talk, makes Harry relax and go pliable in Draco’s arms.
“Yes. Only you,” Harry moans as Draco keeps on stroking his leaking cock.
“Are you going to come for me like a good omega?” Draco asks.
“Yes, yes, yes. Draco, please,” Harry begs and Draco knows that when Harry starts begging that his former panic is overcome.
“Then do it, love. Come for me. Be good and come for me.” Harry’s back arches and he complies. Spurting his seed in thick, long white stripes over Draco’s fist, the bedsheets, even hitting the curtains.
“Draco,” he keens, “Oh god, Draco.” It seems to go on forever. Even when Harry has shot his load, he keeps on coming dry and Draco finally gets the it kind of hurts but still feels really good part. Harry rides out his pleasure on Draco’s swollen cock and it is so hot to watch Harry in the throes of passion that he starts rocking into him with more force, prolonging Harry’s pleasure even further.
“Don’t stop, Draco,” Harry breathes. Harry’s rhythmic clenching and his renewed effort to thrust into him, have his balls tightening again, his muscled slowly tensing as if they were preparing for another orgasm, when Draco knows full well that it isn’t possible not when only minutes have passed since his last orgasm. But suddenly it rips through him. He comes hard, spurting into Harry, who has gone limb in his arms. Draco gasps, overwhelmed by the sudden and unexpected sensation.
“Mhh, feels good,” Harry slurs. They are both panting, lying together, legs intertwined, sweaty and sated.
“Wow,” says Draco.
“Yes to that,” Harry answers and the smile is audible in his voice. They don’t speak for a while. Both of them dazed by the intensity of what they have just experienced. Draco absentmindedly begins to caress Harry again and the other boy hums contentedly as he snuggles deeper into the embrace.
When his knot finally goes down, Draco pulls out gingerly, groaning at the sight of his spunk slowly dribbling out of Harry’s red and puffy hole.
“Oh Merlin,” he breathes, “I could come again, just watching my load trickle out of you.” Harry turns around then, self-consciously pressing his cheeks together. His face is flushed from exertion and embarrassment, when they finally look at each other. Draco leans in to kiss him. When he pulls back, Harry asks, “Do you think my heat is over now?”
“I don’t know, we might have to wait a few hours to find out,” he answers. Harry looks put out by Draco’s answer.
“What’s wrong?” Draco asks and pulls Harry back to himself, kissing him lazily. Harry sighs into his mouth contentedly.
“Tell me,” he repeats, “What’s wrong?” Harry avoids his gaze, casting his eyes down in embarrassment, but Draco doesn’t plan on letting him off the hook. He shoves him lightly in an attempt to get him talking.
“I just… I thought… I thought that if I was still in heat, wecoulddoitagain,” Harry mumbles, speaking the second part of his sentence so rapidly that Draco has trouble understanding him. It actually takes him a few seconds before he realises what Harry has just said.
“You’re so weird, Potter,” he says softly, smiling at Harry when he looks up into his face again. He is met with a frown.
“Don’t call me that,” he instructs.
“I can’t stop calling you Potter. It’s my thing,” he jokes earning himself a shove in return. “No, seriously. I have put some time into pronouncing it perfectly. You have to really mean the consonants and you have to kind of pull up your upper–“ He is silenced by another kiss.
“You are such a prat,” Harry says fondly.
“Does that mean I can continue calling you Potter?” Draco asks making puppy eyes at the other boy.
“If you must. But only when I’m wearing clothes and not during my heat,” Harry negotiates.
“Okay,” Draco answers, “That sounds reasonable. It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” They scoot closer again, Draco throwing an arm around Harry and just marvelling in the afterglow of what they have done.
“You haven’t answered my question,” says Harry after a while.
“I can be here for your next heat if you want me to,” he replies somewhat reluctantly, because it isn’t really what he wants. He wants Harry for himself, for every day of the year not just the odd days that he is in heat. But if that’s what Harry is offering he is going to take it.
“Oh,” is all Harry says to that. Draco can see his disappointment in his face and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can be bold and daring for once too. Harry has already admitted to having a crush on him, to having asked for him and now that he thinks about it he really needs to do some more research on that particular topic. He has slipped, of course, calling Harry things that kind of gave him away, but he hasn’t outright admitted to anything. But Harry beats him to it.
“I just…,” he begins his sentence and breaks off which as Draco has noticed is a tell-tale sign that he is nervous about something. “I thought that knotting me meant something,” he continues in a rush.
“It does, if you want it to,” Draco answers and despite not really admitting to anything he feels that Harry understands.
“So, boyfriends then?” Harry asks boldly, looking Draco dead in the eye, all signs of awkwardness forgotten and Draco nods curtly.
“For now,” he answers.
“What the hell does that even mean?” Harry asks, sounding frustrated.
“Well, we could be other things at some point in the future.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. Mates?” Draco tries unsure if he is getting ahead of himself. Harry doesn’t answer him straight away. Instead he scoots closer to him again, kissing him gently, nudging his lips open with his tongue, before letting his tongue slip inside his mouth. The kiss grows heated soon and when Harry pulls back they are both panting and half hard.
“I’d like to be your mate at some point in the future,” he says shily before leaning in again.
“What do we do now? Are you going to knot me again? Because I know I have been kind of a wuss about it, but turns out it’s quite alright,” he says after a couple more minutes of kissing and groping. Draco snorts.
“Kind of alright? You came for about a minute straight there,” Draco replies.
“I know,” Harry answers, grinning widely, “That’s why I could be persuaded to do it again.” This time Draco outright laughs and after struggling to keep a straight face for a moment Harry joins in.
“What about your heat?” Draco asks.
“I think that is dealt with,” Harry says thoughtfully, closing his eyes as if he is listening in on his body. When he opens his eyes again, he nods curtly, confirming that his heat has passed.
“I don’t know if knotting is something that happens outside of heats and ruts,” Draco states and is met by a disappointed look on Harry’s face.
“But there are other things we could do,” Draco hurries to add.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Well, first of all we would have to test that theory, of course, but then there are hand jobs, blow jobs, all sorts of jobs really. And then you could always try topping, if that would be something you would want to do,” he enumerates.
“You would let an omega fuck you?” Harry asks incredulously as if it’s the most outrageous thing he has ever heard.
“You don’t have to, I just thought–“
“Do shut up, will you?” He pecks Draco on the cheek, before continuing, “Draco, that’s absolutely something that I would want to do. But let’s test that theory first.”