Chapter Thirty-One of 'For Our Unconquerable Souls'- What Is True

[lomonaaeren]

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Chapter Thirty-One—What Is True

Draco had brewed, and spoken over things with his parents, enough to know that he stood no chance of changing Narcissa’s mind, and that his father was already creating the version of events in which he had won (that is, the version of events in which Harry’s independence had been all Lucius’s idea). He had, he thought, stayed away from Harry for a decent length of time, depending on what someone else would consider decent.

And he wanted to have what he’d been interrupted in the having of too many times now.

So he went to Harry’s bedroom, and paused for a moment to listen and make sure there were no other human voices inside. But he heard only the voices of house-elves, because Harry had not yet adjusted his wards to keep sound from escaping through the crack around the door, and relaxed. This time, he would be the one to dismiss Rogers, and—

Take what he wanted? But this was about more than that. It was also about giving Harry what he wanted, and showing him how much pleasure they could interchange. After all, it was no fun if the other person in the bed wasn’t having fun.

The answer came to Draco when he thought about the way Lucius’s face was healing and the way Harry had examined his watch when he announced that the Aurors were on their way to arrest the guilty members of the Burne-Jones, Neverlong, and Foxe families even as the Malfoys tried to debate their fates.

Triumph. This is our time to triumph.

He didn’t bother knocking. Harry hadn’t set the wards to keep him out, and that was as good as an invitation. He opened the door.

Harry stared at him with his mouth slightly open. In front of the bed stood Rogers and a dirty, shambling house-elf that Draco reckoned was the one belonging to Harry. Rogers took the other’s hand and Apparated out with him. Draco would have smiled if Rogers was still there to receive the tribute. At least he knew when Draco intended to bed the man he was in love with, and he would make sure that no interruptions came between him and Harry for the next few hours.

“Did you say something to them?” Harry demanded, his voice shaky.

“They know when we’re serious and won’t be persuaded otherwise.” Draco shut the door behind him and began to undo his robes. He kept his movements smooth, his head slightly bowed as he walked, knowing that Harry was gazing at him in wonder and lust. He had used this same dance to seduce a hundred times, sometimes simply stopping in front of his target and beginning.

But this time was better. Harry was constantly licking his lips, and didn’t seem to realize how clearly Draco could see the outline of his erection against his robes.

This isn’t a temporary lust, Draco realized yet again, as his robes began to drop off his shoulders, and Harry’s eyes followed the cloth helplessly. I want him to make love to me, and I want to make love to him, until we’re lost in each other, until the sensations are as familiar to us as our breathing.

“Unlike this morning,” Draco continued, and his voice dropped. “Unless something else has happened to convince you otherwise in the meantime.”

“God, no.” Harry was practically panting.

Draco had to smile at the gasp, and then he paid attention to a button that was sticking in the cloth. He preferred the manual method of undressing to the magical one, because it allowed more time for seduction and conviction of a wavering lover, but there were disadvantages. He could not afford to take too much time with this.

And then Harry seized his chin and thrust his tongue into his mouth.

It was burning, and it was ferocity. Draco realized now that he had been fooled by the demure, almost diffident way that Harry hung back into thinking he would be hesitant when he did want to kiss someone. But no; his tongue was performing a complicated dance in the middle of Draco’s mouth that he didn’t think he’d ever encountered from anyone else.

Harry slid a hand under his hanging robes and slowly ran a finger the length of his shoulderblade, towards his collarbone. Draco shut his eyes, because the anticipation and the touch were both almost too much.

He almost cried out when Harry’s teeth and tongue followed his finger. In the end, he managed to prevent himself from revealing anything with sound, but not with movement. He swayed on his feet, his skin moving in small shudders. He considered raising a hand to arrest Harry’s head, but there was no reason to do that.

And then Harry scraped as if he meant to worry Draco’s flesh from the bone.

Draco’s cock arched, and he nearly came. As much to distract himself from that as because it really did feel good, he seized Harry’s head and dragged him into a kiss. Harry was the one gasping with surprise this time as Draco kissed him, and kissed him, and then forced him backwards until Harry lay on the bed with Draco kneeling over him.

Harry’s muscles were smooth and wonderful between his legs. Draco could feel his ribs, but not as the striped curves of bone he had thought for a moment he would feel, given how little Harry appeared to eat. And he was staring at Draco with a worshipful, dazed expression that Draco liked very much.

He shrugged himself free of the robes at last. Harry tried to rub his cock into them, but Draco whipped them smoothly off the bed. Harry whimpered and closed his teeth on his lip.

“You should undress,” Draco said. He didn’t know he would sound so guttural until his voice emerged. Well, that was fine. He could seduce with a growl; he knew his own capabilities. “I want you naked.”

Harry nodded, and reached for his wand.

Oh, no. Draco caught his wrist. Harry immediately froze as much as was possible when he still had a beating heart and shivering skin, staring dreamily at Draco as if he thought Draco’s eyes were as captivating as his own.

He won’t look in a mirror, Draco thought, as he stared back at Harry, but I can be his mirror. I can show him what’s wrong, show him how beautiful he is, and teach him how little he has to change to satisfy me.

That is, not at all.

“The slow way,” Draco said, as he directed Harry’s hand to the first button on his robes. “I’ve seen far too little of you, and I want to appreciate the first sight.”

Harry flushed, and began to undo the robes. Now and then, his body quivered as if he wanted to look away from Draco, but his conscience or his courage wouldn’t permit it. Draco fought to keep from salivating as the robes slid away and revealed Harry’s skin. It wasn’t that Harry’s body was exceptionally beautiful; Draco had slept with beautiful people, like Blaise, and the attraction was not the same. If someone were judging him as a stranger, they would probably say that only Harry’s eyes really attracted attention and admiration.

It was the thought that this body contained the spirit Harry had shown when defying the Malfoys and blending with them and caring for Lucius that made Draco almost swoon. He would be as close to Harry’s spirit as it was possible to be, soon. He had to fight to keep from hurrying even though he was the one who had mandated the slow method.

And then Harry began to push the robes off, and found that Draco’s kneeling posture held them in place. “Draco,” he whispered.

“Hmmm?” Draco pitched his voice high this time. He didn’t enjoy being tugged away from his contemplation of Harry’s body, whatever the necessity for it.

“You’ll need to lift up.”

Draco blinked, deliberately giving the impression that he didn’t know what Harry was talking about. He doubted Harry would understand the tribute that it was to make Draco’s mind run slowly and quickly at once; he would probably prefer to believe that Draco was absorbed in contemplation of him. He smiled, and Harry groaned. “I do, don’t I?” he murmured, voice a growl again. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to miss me too much in the meantime.”

And he made sure to rub his arse against Harry’s cock before he swung a leg over his hips and crouched beside him. Harry stretched yearningly after him, making a small complaining noise in his throat. Draco tilted his head back, languidly, and watched Harry to see what he would do next.

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he began peeling off his robes again. Draco sighed at the sight of taut flesh and shining skin, but he did wonder what sort of vengeance Harry thought this could possibly be. Because it wasn’t anything of the kind.

And then Harry suddenly had his wand in hand, and less than a moment later he was spelling off Draco’s trousers, and then he had dropped his wand, and then he was licking Draco’s hip.

Draco stiffened and cried out in spite of himself. He would have grabbed Harry’s head and pulled him up so that they could kiss; he was certain that he meant to, at least. But Harry had his mouth around his cock in the next instant, and then Draco was a little too busy shuddering and flushing and crying out Harry’s name.

And then Harry was sucking like an expert.

Draco hated to use such a trite simile, but really, there was no other word for it.

Every motion of his tongue seemed to teach him something new. When he found an interesting peculiarity in the thickness of Draco’s shaft or the shape of his head, he went back to it, and tortured until Draco felt as if he were floating through a sea of fire. When he sucked and moaned at the same time, Draco writhed and barely held back the quickest orgasm he’d ever had.

He didn’t want to embarrass himself, but Merlin, Harry made it difficult. He even seemed—as much as Draco could tell this from the soft, coaxing motions of his mouth—to be demanding that response, as if he wouldn’t be disappointed if Draco came quickly, as if that wasn’t weakness but the evidence of pleasure, and he cared about little but giving Draco pleasure.

But still…

No.

Draco had dreamed of fucking Harry, and he was going to fuck Harry. He reached down, seized a handful of those stubborn curls, and sobbed out, “No, stop!”

Harry stiffened for a moment, and then lifted his head, though not before he had given Draco’s cock one more lick. His eyes blazed, and Draco felt his heart pounding faster at the passion in them. Yes, he need not have worried that Harry would lack enthusiasm, once they had the time to make love and trusted each other enough.

“What?”

“Not like that,” Draco managed to whisper. He stroked Harry’s cheek for a moment, but his fingers trembled, and he nearly cut off one of Harry’s eyelashes with his nails. He swallowed, which was hard when there was no saliva in his throat. He wanted to marvel. Harry had affected him even more profoundly than he’d thought.

“You want us to both suck each other at the same time?” Harry stared at Draco’s lips, and his eyes filled with flame and shadow.

“No.” This time, Draco managed to stroke Harry’s cheek in a way that made it a caress instead of a punishment. His lip curled, and he swallowed again, and saw Harry’s pupils expand. “No, I want to fuck you.”

And the mere sound of the words made Harry arch towards him, neck curved back, hips curved forwards, offering himself, and his erection, and his skin, and his strength, and his vulnerability. Draco had to close his eyes for a moment.

“Yes,” Harry said, with immense dignity in his voice considering the way that voice faltered for a moment, “yes, I think I’d like that.”

Draco leaned forwards, pressing Harry to the bed, and began to kiss him again. He wanted to steal his breath, steal his attention, steal his ability to focus on anything other than what Draco was doing to him. He had never been this greedy, this possessive, with anyone. He wanted desperately, and the only way he could feel strong was to kindle that same desperate desire in the person he was sleeping with.

Harry tried to put his arms around Draco’s shoulders, but Draco pinned his wrists to the pillow. That just resulted in Harry spreading his legs and shoving his arse back. Draco paused to stare at him. Does he realize what he looks like? Doesn’t he care what I’ll think of him, for behaving like that?

“Well?” Harry demanded. “Get on with it.”

He doesn’t care what I think of him, because he’s already sure that it’s something good, Draco realized, and the realization reached down into him and shook him, as though he were a building rattling on its foundations. To him, this kind of thing isn’t a weakness.

He didn’t know how many times he would have to realize that before it finally stayed with him, but, for the moment, he had other things to say.

“You wouldn’t like me to simply get on with it,” Draco whispered, even as he reached for Harry’s pants. And then he found his hand had fallen short, because he’d been staring at Harry’s arse and the way he offered it, without shame and in every expectation of pleasure. The flush in his cheeks couldn’t get much stronger, given his desire, and hopefully that would hide the embarrassment. “I have the feeling it would be a bit too—much—for you to handle.”

“Braggart,” Harry moaned.

“Oh, no.” Draco tore the pants off, then seized Harry’s wand. When he flicked the wand, a large pool of his favorite lubricant appeared on Harry’s belly and his arsehole. Harry yelped, as if the conjuring of oil to make Draco’s entrance easier was an affront to his dignity. “At this, I’m exactly as good as I say I am.”

And then he had the opportunity to make Harry fascinated with him again, because he took some of the oil on his hand and slid the first finger into Harry’s arsehole. Harry shuddered and tried to look away. Draco wouldn’t let him. He went on staring the way he would have at a snake that was about to strike him—a creature of implacable beauty that he needed to tame before it tamed him.

Harry began to gasp, his stomach flexing as if he were trying to hold in a full and delicious meal.

“Yes,” Draco said, his words dragging and slopping up his throat, given how thick they were.

He slid a second finger in to join the first, and began to pursue a steady, gentle, regular movement, parting his fingers and then joining them, and all the time crooking them, in a search for Harry’s prostate. Harry spread his legs as if in answer. Draco said something he meant to be an endearment, but which ended up coming out more like a wordless mumble, and then bent down to leave the mark of his teeth on Harry’s hip the way it felt Harry had left the invisible mark of his tongue all over Draco’s cock.

Draco moved to add a third finger. Harry laughed, and then blinked and frowned. He was probably upset about the hitch in his voice, Draco thought smugly. Harry had meant to introduce an element of ridiculousness into the moment, but the pleasure was too much for him.

“Two’s enough,” Harry said.

“How long has it been since someone fucked you?” Draco paced his breathing carefully to control his jealousy, but Harry heard it and laughed anyway. Draco tightened his hold on Harry’s waist. He’d let Harry’s wrists go because he was keeping them still.

“Four months or so,” Harry said. “And that was Xavier Brandeis.”

“That fool who confronted you in hospital?” Draco could still hear the fool’s squealing voice if he concentrated.

Harry nodded. “And the one who cast the Beetle’s Bite on me through the wards at Grimmauld Place.”

Draco bristled, but not so much with anger as with longing. “You only forbade me from taking vengeance on the people who hurt my father,” he said.

“But I did tell you that I didn’t want you ever taking revenge for me, no matter what the situation was,” Harry said. Too calm, too fucking determined to make this all about other people’s pain instead of his own. Draco curled his lip.

“Listen,” Harry said. “You can take a better vengeance on Xavier than by hunting him down, even if he never knows it.” Draco arched a brow, and Harry smiled. “Make me forget him.”

But when he focuses on others’ pleasure, he does it very well.

“Yes,” Draco said, and leaned back on his heels. He gave Harry a half-warning look; he could still require more oil, or a third finger, or he could ask for them to suck each other instead.

Harry stared back with his eyes shimmering more incandescently than the oil. He was stubborn, Draco had to give him that. And then he spread his legs and lined his arse carefully up with Draco’s cock.

“Keep doing that and I’ll come before I get inside you,” Draco muttered.

Harry threw him a look of defiant scorn. “Even Xavier never did that.”

Draco growled and urged his hips forwards. His cock began to slide into Harry, and he tensed and bit his lip, his body trembling as though he were the one being penetrated. It always affected him like this, always.

At least Harry was affected too, from the way he was trying to regulate his breathing.

Draco stopped at last. He wanted to groan in pure luxury. His balls rested gently against Harry’s arse, and his body throbbed, and he could feel the warmth around his cock in his neck, which made him hang his head. “All right there?” he asked, bending to lick a line of sweat from Harry’s chest.

“More than all right,” Harry said, and grinned at him. “Besides, you haven’t done anything yet. Do you want to be a rival to Xavier or not?”

Draco snarled—who said things like that in the middle of being fucked by a Malfoy?—and snapped his hips forwards. Harry cried out, the lower half of his body rising from the bed and his toes curling. Draco smirked; he could hear the way Harry luxuriated, too, in that cry, which was not a sign that he needed to be more careful.

Draco gave a slow thrust the next time, then two more long ones, then three quick jabs that hit Harry’s prostate and made his eyes fall shut. A groan was bubbling on his lips, which moved but released no sound. His head and his arms twitched, on the verge of thrashing.

“Keep your hands there,” Draco whispered. He settled into a regular rhythm that mimicked the stretching pattern of his fingers earlier, the bed under him sometimes driving his thrusts more smoothly in, the way a pillow beneath Harry’s hips would have. “I like that.”

Harry laughed. This time, Draco didn’t take it as mockery.

Draco began to apply other parts of his body to making love; he liked to do it as a whole and consistent act, rather than making it all about the cock and the balls, the way Blaise had sometimes done. He dug his fingernails randomly into Harry’s skin, and now and then brushed his cock in the same way. He grabbed a fold of skin and pinched it until Harry gasped. He touched Harry’s shoulder and chest with his tongue when he could. He gasped, too, so that Harry could hear his voice, since at the moment his eyes weren’t open.

And he did his very best to take the warmth and indescribable pleasure flowing through him, thanks to the tight clasp of Harry’s arse, and gift it back to Harry.

It worked. Harry began to moan and sigh, and repeat the sounds in a cycle of his own, until Draco couldn’t resist it any longer.

“Quite a concert you’re giving me, Harry,” he murmured.

Harry opened his eyes, a smile trembling on his lips. Draco waited until his eyes were partially focused, then grabbed Harry’s cock and circled his fingers around the head at the same moment as he made sure to hit Harry’s prostate.

Harry’s cry was a soft, gentle gasp that went on mounting, breaking in odd places and then tumbling upwards again. He splashed Draco’s hand with come, and Draco enjoyed that as much as he enjoyed the stronger way his hips were moving now, as instinct and inevitability took over his body. At last Harry stopped coming and lay there, still staring at him, a faint, dazed smile on his lips.

Time to see how far he’s willing to go. Draco extended his come-covered hand to Harry’s lips.

Harry sucked one finger into his mouth and clenched down with his inner muscles at the same time.

“No—fair—”

Draco managed to say that before his orgasm, but it was a near thing, with his body involved in the thrusting and the pushing and the pulsing as he came. He lost his balance and fell forwards, half in Harry’s come again, his chest pressing against Harry’s, his hips still snugly in place as he finished.

And they were connected, the way that Draco had wanted to connect with Harry’s spirit when he looked at him earlier, as close as two people could be without using some rather nasty versions of Legilimency and the Imperius Curse.

And Harry was still cleaning the come from his fingers with a languid tongue.

“I think that was a draw,” Draco said at last, shifting around so he could see Harry’s face. He didn’t pull out. He liked to stay in the lovers he fucked as long as he could, to sleep inside them if they permitted it. He didn’t think Harry would permit that, not quite yet, but perhaps later. “I trust that I’ve sent Xavier entirely out of your head.”

Harry blinked and stared at him. “Who’s Xavier?”

Draco knew he gasped before he saw the smile crinkling the edges of Harry’s eyes and mouth, and hit him instead.

Chapter 32.