Author: Debbie
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. No infringement intended. I'm just manipulating the characters in that evil fashion you read about in anti-slash articles.
Author's Note: Harry and Draco share an intimate moment; Draco POV. They are above the age of consent, despite the use of the word "boy". Thank you Liss for all your encouragement. And thank you Rhysenn, for beta-reading.
Dedication: To the person who inspired this. You know who you are.
Feedback: This is my first NC-17 HP fic, and probably the most explicit thing I've ever written. Feedback appreciated.

**SLASH WARNING** This fic is about Harry and Draco and physical acts. If this squicks you, leave now. You have been warned. Don't bother leaving flames.

The wall against his back was cool, unyielding. Uncaring stone pressed almost uncomfortably into his spine, even as the smooth surface glided against his less bony regions. In contrast, in front of him was a living, breathing wall of warm flesh, just as firmly supportive, but lacking the ungiving harshness of the stones behind him. Bones and muscle shifted in response to his movements; ribs and diaphragm moved in counterpoint to his own, in and out, up and down. His hands traveled over the other's back, absently marveling at how a boy's skin could be so soft. Wasn't it only girls who were supposed to have such velvety skin? And yet his fingers traced an undeniably satiny route over shoulder blades, down along the ridge of a spinal column and back again. Even his legs noted the smooth surface as they wrapped around a narrow waist; he drew his legs in tight, wanting to feel that soft skin pressed firmly against his own. Needing it. Everywhere.

Warm hands caressed his bare skin in return, holding his hips, balancing him on one firmly muscled thigh. He knew Harry was using a minor levitation spell to make him easier to support; despite the strength of the leg under him, his own legs around Harry's waist, and the sturdy wall, their relative sizes were too evenly matched for the black-haired boy to comfortably support him on his own for long. But the slight disorientation he experienced from the spell was negligent in comparison to the tidal wave of pleasure he was experiencing now.

They had been kissing. Long, drawn out kisses. Tongues exploring the spicy recesses of each others' mouths. Tracing around the rims of lips. Stroking each other's velvet-nubbed surfaces. Hungry, dominating kisses -- Harry pressing him even harder into the harsh wall, him with his hands knotted in the black hair, roughly pulling the dark head even closer. But now Harry's hot mouth was working its way over his chin, down to his throat. He leaned his head back, temporarily ceding the battle by openly offering the sought-after region. Warm lips pressed against the sensitive column, nibbling, licking, finding secret spots and sucking. Gasps of pleasure - was that him? Or were they both feeling the surges of desire that suddenly spiked the atmosphere? He couldn't tell, nor did it matter.

He was growing even more aware of the way their bodies fit together. In one, long, unbroken line, from torso to pelvis, their skins hugged and clung to each other, a fine sheen of sweat keeping them together despite their erratic and contrary breathing patterns. And there, down below, where everything disappeared into the twining of their bodies, they were pressed almost unbearably close. Arousal kept cohesive thought at bay; but though he was not prone to such sentimental musings even when lucid, he now recognized, on an instinctive level, that this was what people meant by true intimacy - the trust and willingness to share parts of oneself normally hidden from the world. And here they were, the sources of their heat -- iron and curls - brushing each other in a damp dance as their bodies shifted and writhed. What was once a secret for each alone was now a secret for them to share.

The hands on his hips were now on his buttocks, subtly rocking him back and forth against his lover's body. Then only one hand remained, as the other started to trace a teasing line down the crevasse at the base of his spine. Slim fingers wandered over his most intimate spots, and he felt a surge as one firm tip worked its way inside his body. He forced himself to hold still, even though every fiber of his being cried out to shift, to move, to thrust against the rigid length in front of him, and back against the skillful invader below.

"Do you want more?" The merciless mouth had left his throat and was working its way along his jaw. He could feel warm breath against his neck, and gasped again as suction claimed the trigger spot under his ear.

"Yes. God, yes," he managed to choke out. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, of hard friction and teasing fingers and knowing tongues and everywhere, everywhere, skin-on-skin. His arms and legs were hugging Harry closer than he thought possible, as if he could draw the dark-haired boy inside himself by strength alone, as if that would relieve the storm of arousal that raged through his entire system.

A whisper -- "Finite incantatem" - and he suddenly felt his full weight return. The finger withdrew, the leg underneath him lowered, and the hands on his hips guided him down to set him on his feet. But only for a moment. In seconds, he felt himself drawn even further down, until he was stretched out on the discarded cloaks that had, until now, lain forgotten.

He was suddenly aware of the room's slight chill; his skin cried out at the loss of contact. But his agony was short-lived; Harry paused only long enough to retrieve a small tube of lubricant and slick it over his erection. Then the dark-haired boy was leaning forward, sliding over him, his torso caressing steel and fur and belly and chest as he inched his way up. He groaned as his lover slithered up his body; a low rumbling laugh answered him in return. And then they were realigned as they had been before - head to head, belly to belly, skin to skin and ….

"Oh, God." He felt the slick strength enter him - a welcome invasion. Slowly at first, waiting for his body to adjust and accept. He was filled, he was complete, and still he needed more. As he felt the presence withdraw, he once again wrapped his legs around the other's slim hips, pulling him back. Back and forth they rocked, in and out, give and take, close and apart but always together. He felt the pressure building, higher and higher, an almost unbearable, almost painful pleasure. He wanted it to last forever, and yet felt he couldn't stand it another moment. But when a knowing hand closed over his length, he couldn't contain himself anymore. With a cry he flew over the edge, taking his accomplice with him in a shuddering release.

All motion stopped as they collapsed together and fell silent. All except their hearts, which continued to pound against each other in a dizzying percussive rhythm. But even they eventually slowed their gallop, reclaiming their familiar steady pace, a comforting beat in his ears. He took a deep breath to restore lost oxygen, and felt the quiet retreat below. Then, with a murmur and a nod, he shifted his position slightly; the dark head turned away from him, but he pulled Harry's back against his chest and twined their legs, reclaiming the body contact. Skin to skin and content, they dropped off to sleep.


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DC Slash Harry Potter Ros. Hetero Ros. Slash Ros. Other