Come for Me - Part 2/3

[frayach.livejournal.com]

“I used to be obsessed with coming,” Draco said one night in the midst of their second bottle of Merlot.

Harry laughed. “Who isn’t?”

"No, I mean really really obsessed,” Draco said. “Even before I was physically capable of having an orgasm, I pretended I could come anyway.”

Harry poured them both another glass of wine. He hadn’t liked Merlot until Draco had taught him he’d been drinking it all wrong – not to mention the wrong kinds.

“How’d you do that?” he asked, feeling his cock take a distinct interest in the turn their conversation had taken after an hour of discussing curriculum changes proposed by Hogwarts’ Board of Trustees.

Draco blushed so much it reached his ears, turning them red. He downed his glass of wine and poured himself another before he answered.

“I, uhm, well, I . . .”

“C’mon, tell me,” Harry coaxed while sliding his hand between his legs to signal just how interested he was in Draco’s answer.

Draco visibly relaxed as Harry began to knead his cock through his jeans.

“I started when I was ten. I would piss,” he said abruptly. “I would touch myself until I got a partial erection, and then I’d piss, pretending I was ejaculating.”

Harry wasn’t prepared from the sledgehammer of lust that struck him at Draco’s words, and he groaned deep in his chest.

“Fuck. That is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Draco’s blush deepened, but he looked pleased to have ignited Harry’s erotic imagination.

“Yeah, it really kind of was,” he said. “I’d pretend I was coming even though I didn’t know yet how it actually felt to have an orgasm. There was a sense of release that always relaxed me afterward.”

Harry whimpered. He couldn’t help it. His body was filled with pure, unadulterated craving at the image Draco’s words had painted. Ten year-old Malfoy rubbing his dick and then soaking his pyjama bottoms with urine.

“I’d even hump my pillow and piss into it, pretending it was a girl – not because I was interested in girls, but because I wanted to imagine myself coming inside a girl and making her pregnant.”

Harry unbuckled his belt, and Draco’s mouth unfurled into a lascivious smile.

“Tell me more,” Harry groaned.

“It started with the portraits,” Draco continued. “The Manor is full of portraits of my ancestors. For some reason, Malfoy men almost never father girls, which is predictably a great source of pride for my crusty old forbearers. So when I was ten years-old, they started urging me to show them my balls because in their mildewed old minds the size of a male’s balls dictates whether he’ll father a son or a daughter, and of course the Malfoys want sons – including my father. Merlin only knows what kind of identity crisis he would’ve had if I’d been a girl.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. The thought of an emasculated Lucius Malfoy was delightfully amusing.

“Which was why I couldn’t be gay, of course. I’m sure my father would’ve preferred a daughter over a homosexual son.”

Harry nodded. It made perfect sense.

“Anyway, I was obsessed with reaching puberty. My pervy ancestors all wanted me to wank for them so they could ‘assess my semen.’ So I ‘practised’ by pissing when I touched myself, and then, of course, when I actually developed the ability to ejaculate, I wanked like a fiend. My barmy ancestors couldn’t get enough of it; they thought I had the quintessential ‘Malfoy semen’ and taught me all kinds of ways to increase the volume and shot it harder and farther. Seriously. If my poor mother had had any idea . . .”

Harry had opened his jeans while Draco spoke and started wanking. He couldn’t help it. Draco’s words were driving him mad. Draco groaned raggedly when he saw how hard he’d made Harry and how close Harry was to coming.

“So, yeah, I was obsessed with my own come. I wanted to ejaculate it in every fuckable hole I could find. Including your arse – actually I should’ve said especially your arse. You have no idea, Harry, how much I fantasised about coming in your arse.”

“God, Draco!” Harry said, nearly gagging on his lust. “Fuck!”

Draco didn’t respond or even move for a long time – so long in fact that Harry started to feel a tad ridiculous. But then Draco took off his shirt and spoke in a strangled whisper.

“Stand up,” he said hoarsely. His chest was flushed and heaving and slick with sweat.

Harry didn’t have to be asked twice.

“Strip.” Draco’s voice was stern and calm, sending a shivering thrill through Harry’s whole body.

Once Harry was naked, Draco ordered him to resume wanking.

“Tell me when you’re about to come,” he said.

Harry tightening his grip on his cock and imagined Draco as a boy with his trousers around his knees wanking for five hundred years of Malfoy ancestors. And then he imagined Draco groaning in release as a stream of piss started to flow from his dick, soaking the expensive carpet under his feet.

“I’m going to come!” Harry cried, too close too soon.

“Watch,” Draco ordered him, and Harry followed his gaze onto his lap. Draco was kneading his cock – something that Harry had never seen him do before.

“God,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t stop doing that.”

“Watch,” Draco said again, his voice just as rough.

It took a couple of seconds before he saw what Draco wanted him to see, but then he noticed a wet spot appear on Draco’s expensive grey trousers. He watched breathlessly as the spot grew, and suddenly it dawned on him what was happening.

Draco was pissing!

Harry had never seen anything sexier in his whole life. The urine turned the grey fabric of Draco’s trousers black. He watched hungrily as the wetness began to spread . . . it was like Draco was coming – only better.

Draco tilted his head back and moaned in release as his lap filled with piss. Harry was starting to feel lightheaded from breathing too shallowly and too fast. He whimpered Draco’s name helplessly.

“Say it,” he gasped, hoping Draco knew what he meant.

“I’m coming . . .” Draco moaned brokenly as he continued urinating. “Oh God, I’m coming, Harry . . .”

Harry sobbed as his orgasm shook his whole body and then dropped him to his knees as though he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

“Christ,” he panted, on the verge of blacking out. “Fuck.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised there were tears on his face.

When at last he found the strength to lift his head and look at Draco, he saw that there were tears on his face as well – tears of release . . . and unmistakable gratitude.


* * * *


It was like he was a teenager again.

Harry got more work done in a few days than he usually accomplished in a month. He had to keep his mind occupied or it would stray into the delicious wilderness of memories that encroached on his every thought.

Meetings were the worst. He was reminded of all the times he’d had to ask a professor for permission to go to the loo so his fifteen year-old hormone-ravaged body could find release with a frantic wank in a locked cubicle. The only difference was that now he could wank in his office while watching the photographs of Draco on his desk, coming with an embarrassingly loud grunt after only a minute or two as he pictured Draco pissing in his trousers.

His favourite memory so far was of the night after the first time Draco “came.”

Draco had met him at the door and didn’t even let him hang up his coat before leading him to the candle-lit bathroom.

“Hello to you too,” Harry had said, already feeling the pressure in his lower belly that signalled an imminent erection.

Draco had grinned mischievously.

“Help me to sit on the countertop.”

Harry had leaned down and kissed him deeply at the same time he positioned his arms so he could lift Draco out of his chair. They’d continued kissing as Harry set him down and gripped his waist to steady him.

“Okay?” he’d murmured against Draco’s ear.

“More than. Spread my legs, Harry.”

Harry had placed his hands on both of Draco’s knees and slowly spread his thighs apart. He’d watched Draco’s physical therapist do the same thing during one of Draco’s daily rehabilitation sessions. It’d been clear to him that one needed to be careful or risk tearing a contracted muscle. It was made all the more nerve-racking because Draco couldn’t feel anything and therefore couldn’t tell Harry if he was hurting him.

When Harry had his legs partially open, he’d reached down to touch the inside muscles of Draco’s thighs to make sure they weren’t too tense to spread any further apart; Draco’s therapist had told him how to tell if Draco’s legs were being pushed past their limit, but they’d felt okay. Harry had parted Draco’s legs even further.

“I want you to stand between them,” Draco had murmured against his ear.

Harry had nodded as he gently eased himself between Draco’s legs until at last his groin touched Draco’s.

“Kiss me,” Draco had said once Harry was where he wanted him.

Despite his concern at not exceeding Draco’s physical limits, Harry had been hard. Because Draco was taller than him, they’d been exactly level and face to face – something that was rare.

“Pretend there’s nothing wrong with me,” Draco had whispered.

“There isn't anything wrong with you,” Harry had replied fiercely, but Draco shushed him with a finger against his lips.

“Please don’t argue. I need for you not to argue.”

Harry had nodded solemnly and leaned forward to kiss him again. Draco had kissed him in return without holding anything back, ravenous and trembling.

“I’ve been hard all day,” he’d said against Harry’s ear, making Harry shiver. “I couldn’t wait until you got home.”

“Draco,” Harry had breathed as he kissed the underside of Draco’s jaw and then his throat.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel how hard I am for you?”

It hadn’t even been difficult for Harry to pretend. He’d been able to hear the naked desire in Draco’s voice. If Draco wasn’t paralysed, he’d have been on the verge of coming. It was clear from his urgency, from the depth of the need in his voice.

“I can feel it,” Harry had groaned.

“Rub against my cock,” Draco had whispered, and Harry started carefully pressing forward.

They’d been kissing like horny virgins with spit on their chins when Draco reached down and grabbed Harry’s arse, pulling him close.

“Oh God,” he’d whimpered into their scorching kiss. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Harry had said, suddenly overwhelmed with excitement. “Come for me, Draco.”

And then he’d felt it – Draco began urinating.

“I’m coming,” he’d groaned, as he soaked the front of Harry’s trousers.

Before Draco’s bladder could empty, Harry shoved his own trousers down and let the piss seeping through Draco’s jeans warm his cock as he started to come . . .

He’d never come so hard in his entire life, and he shuddered in Draco’s arms as Draco continued to urinate until the stream turned into a trickle and then stopped.

“Oh my God,” Harry had panted, staring down between their bodies at the mess of piss and come. Then he’d looked up at Draco’s flushed – and very happy – face.

“Welcome home,” he’d said and then kissed Harry even more breathless than he already was.


* * * *


One of the best things about Draco’s discovery that Harry loved it when he pissed on him was that he stopped being ashamed of his cock. He still wouldn’t get naked in front of Harry, but he did let Harry touch him.

And even better, sometimes it was in public . . .

“I can’t decide,” Draco said. “Am I in the mood for chicken marsala or biryani?”

“Marsala,” Harry replied. “I don’t like biryani, and I’ll be eating the leftovers.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“All the more reason to get the biryani. You’re a gluttonous pig. You’d think that you’d leave some leftovers for me once and awhile.”

“I would if you didn’t let them sit around for days, tempting me every time I open fridge.”

“Do not.”

“Do too . . .”

They were interrupted by a waitress who didn’t seem in the mood to wait for them to finish their bickering. The restaurant was jammed, and it looked like she was the only one taking orders.”

“Chicken biryani,” Draco said, and Harry poked him in the ribs.

“Out of biryani,” the waitress said curtly.

“Bugger. Marsala then,” Draco said grumpily, and Harry laughed.

“God likes me better,” he gloated after the waitress disappeared through the kitchen door. “Even when my scar isn’t visible.”

Harry always used a weak Glamour when they went out together. The last thing he wanted was to spend the evening autographing serviettes when he wanted to be talking with Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes again and then smirked when Harry filled his empty glass with more water.

“Subtle,” he purred and then laughed when Harry blushed.

“Just making sure you don’t get dehydrated.”

“Sure you are,” Draco said with the self-satisfied smirk that never failed to make Harry very aware of his own cock. He shifted in his chair, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

“You may be the only person in the world who gets turned on watching his boyfriend drink a bottle of Pellegrino.”

Harry blushed even darker. “Pellegrino” was code for “I’m going to piss for you tonight.” Their cabinets and fridge were crammed with bottles.

He was hard now and not at all interested in eating curry anymore.

“Let’s take it for take-away,” he whispered.

Draco made a show of examining his fingernails.

We always take our food take-away,” he said with feigned petulance. “I want to stay here and have a nice leisurely multi-course dinner.”

Harry groaned.

“You’re such a tease,” he growled. But then he had an idea – a fabulously brilliant idea.

“Move closer to me.”

Draco looked at him sceptically, but he wheeled himself around the table until he and Harry could brush elbows.

“Just go with it,” Harry whispered in his ear. He reached under the table and put his hand between Draco’s legs and felt his cock start to swell.

It’s a reflex, Draco had told him the first time he’d taken Harry’s hand and placed it between his legs. I can’t feel anything, but I get partially hard when I’m being touched.

The knowledge had blown Harry’s mind – in the best of ways – and now he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Are you touching me?” Draco asked. Harry’s hand was not only under the table, it was under a table cloth as well.

“Yeah,” Harry said roughly.

“Is it getting hard?”

“Yeah.”

Harry was so turned on that his brain was incapable of forming words longer than one syllable.

“Come for me,” he whispered.

Draco bit back a grin.

“You’re a perv, Potter. You better have your wand ready for a lightning-fast Tergeo.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Harry growled. “Just come, Draco. I want to feel you come.”

“And then do I get to make you come?”

“You can dump your marsala on my head if you want – you can do anything if you do this for me.”

Draco laughed breathlessly.

“If I do that, there won’t be any leftovers . . .”

“Shut it, Malfoy, and come for me.”

Draco moaned softly, and Harry kneaded his cock until it was as hard as it could get – which wasn’t very hard, but still hard enough to fill Harry’s hand.

“Tell me when you’re about to start coming,” Harry whispered.

“Already am,” Draco choked. “Oh fuck . . .”

Harry’s hand started filling with the wet heat of Draco’s piss, and for a second, his heart felt like it’d stopped beating from the sudden influx of lust in his veins. It felt amazing – Draco’s swollen prick and balls in his palm and piss flowing through his fingers, soaking the table cloth where it brushed against Draco’s lap.

“Keep coming,” Harry murmured as he reached his other hand between his own legs and began rubbing his cock.

“Don’t you dare make yourself come,” Draco growled against his ear, but it was too late. Harry arched his back and came hard with a loud gasp.

“Very discreet,” Draco said, laughing.

Harry’s hand was still between his legs kneading Draco’s urine-soaked trousers. If he could have his way, he’d keep doing it all night, but then he saw their waitress crossing the room toward their table with a tray balanced against her shoulder.

“Tergeo!” he said and an instant later, Draco’s lap was clean and dry. He moaned at the loss of wet wool under his palm, but then the waitress was there, setting down their plates.

“Anything else?” she asked, clearly hoping the answer would be no.

Too bad for her. Harry looked up, met her gaze and grinned.

“Yes,” he said. “Can we please have another jug of water?”


* * * *


Draco had looked good when they’d first got together, but now he was radiant. Even Harry’s friends noticed (shockingly Ron among them). Harry was good for him, they all agreed, but Harry knew (because Hermione told him) that when he wasn’t present, they also agreed that Draco was good for him. Which meant he and Draco started getting invitations – especially from Neville and Luna.

But there was one kind of event Harry had to attend alone – even though Draco was always invited too.

Quidditch matches.

Harry was caught by surprise the first time he told Draco that Ron had two extra tickets to see the Harpies play the Wasps and had invited them to join him. Draco got absolutely furious, which meant he also got cuttingly cruel.

“Grow up, Potter,” he snarled. “It’s just a stupid game. How old are you? Fourteen? Or perhaps you just want to watch your ex-girlfriend grind her slimy cunt against a broom handle.”

Harry could only gape at him. What the hell?

“I guess I’ll just go by myself then,” he said.

Draco sneered at him and then wheeled over to one of the windows and sat with his back turned toward Harry.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do. Go have fun and yell at sweaty morons flying around on brooms. I hope it makes you hot. But don’t come staggering back here stinking of cheap lager and cheese and onion crisps. Stay at Weasley’s. I don’t want to see you.”

Harry inhaled sharply, wounded by Draco’s vicious words. But then his pride kicked in.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Stay at home and enjoy your pity party. It’s not my fault you can’t fly anymore.”

Ouch.

He regretted his remark the instant it left his mouth. Regretted it horribly. But it’d been said, and he couldn’t unring the bell.

He panicked when Draco didn’t even respond.

“Fuck, Draco. I am so sorry. I’m a fucking idiot . . .”

“Leave.”

Draco said the word without turning around – without even raising his voice.

“I won’t go to the match,” Harry said, panicking. “I don’t want to go. You’re right; Quidditch is stupid and childish.”

“I said leave.”

Draco’s voice was a frigid layer of ice only thinly covering an ocean of fury.

“Draco . . .”

“Get the fuck out, Potter. I don’t want to see your face in my flat any longer.”

Harry’s throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow the lump of fear that blocked it, forcing him to literally gasp for breath.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I want you to go away.”

“I can’t . . . I won’t . . .”

“I’m a fucking cripple,” Draco said turning away from the window. His mouth twitched with rage, but his eyes were cold and dead.

“No, you’re not! I didn’t mean . . .”

“Bollocks!” Draco yelled at him. “Stop fucking pretending you’re not disgusted by me! Stop acting like you’re not just a pervert panting after a cripple and drinking his piss, pretending its come. You’re a sick bastard, Potter!”

Even in his stunned state, Harry saw Draco flinch at his own words as his face went from being flushed with anger to pale with shock.

What they did together . . . it was as sacred as anything in Harry’s life.

He couldn’t stay in Draco’s presence a moment longer. He turned his back, grabbed his coat from the rack and ran out the door.


He didn’t go to the match. Instead he went straight to the nearest pub and got pissed out of his mind. He woke in his office at the Ministry wondering why the fuck he was there . . . and then remembering.

He firecalled Hermione and then unshrunk his Roadster and drove like a madman to Hogsmeade, arriving mid-evening in record time.

“Harry! What’s wrong,” she cried when she opened the door at his knock.

He could only shake his head. She took his hand and led him into the living room.

“You’re shivering,” she said as she sat him down in an armchair and draped a blanket over his shoulders.

“Drove with the top down,” he croaked.

“Harry, it’s the middle of February! What were you thinking?”

“Wasn’t, I guess.”

She went to the kitchen and returned after a minute with a steaming mug of coffee.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, wrapping his frozen fingers around it.

She sat down near him and waited for him to tell her what was going on. But when he didn’t say anything, she broke the silence.

“Draco?”

He nodded.

“Did you two fight?”

He nodded again.

“I think it may be over,” he said, his voice quavering more from emotion than cold.

She moved closer and took one of his hands in both of hers.

“Tell me,” she said softly, and he did, leaving out only the personal details. Despite Draco’s words, it was still sacred to Harry – and very much their secret, at least if Draco still wanted to keep it that way. He tried hard not to imagine Draco telling Pansy what a pervert Harry was.

“I don’t understand,” he said, his voice hoarse from talking nonstop for a half an hour.

She squeezed his hand.

“I think I might.”

He raised his eyes from his nearly empty mug and looked at her.

“Quidditch used to be so important to him,” she said. “I remember hearing he was even more obsessed with it than you were, which is saying something.”

“Then why wouldn’t he go with me?”

“He didn’t want to go because it would be too painful. He wasn’t lashing out at you, Harry, he was lashing out at the unfairness of the universe that had taken something he’d loved so much away from him.”

“It sure felt like he was lashing out at me,” Harry muttered.

“You know how he is,” she said. “This shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.”

But it was. He blinked back tears.

“You look terrible,” she said. “Go upstairs and get some sleep. I’ll make us some comfort food for supper.”

He was going to argue, but then he realised how right she was. He was exhausted from driving so fast for so long.

He’d barely fallen asleep when he was wakened by voices downstairs.

“Granger! Thank Merlin, you’re there. Is Harry with you?”

Draco’s voice. He sounded frantic.

“I’m not sure if I’m at liberty to answer that question,” she said coldly.

“Just tell me if he’s all right. I went to his office. That bloody car of his wasn’t on his desk. Please, just tell me he’s not hurt and lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“He’s not lying in a ditch,” she said, her voice a tad warmer.

There was a brief silence.

“Thank God . . . if anything happened to him . . .”

“I have reason to believe he’s fine.”

“If . . . if you hear from him, please tell him I called,” Draco said barely loud enough for Harry to hear him.

“And if I do hear from him, what should I say?”

“Tell him I said that I’m more sorry than he could ever imagine, and that I want him to come home - that I need him to come home."

Harry swallowed. He’d never heard Draco sound so vulnerable and so obviously in pain. He got up and went downstairs.

“I guess you heard all of that,” Hermione said.

He nodded.

“Are you going back to London tonight?”

He nodded again.

“Then will you promise me that you’ll shrink that silly car and Apparate?”

“My car is not silly,” he grumbled, and she grinned, looking relieved. She walked to her study and came back with a piece of parchment.

“Take this,” she said, handing it to him. “A sixth year was paralysed in a Quidditch accident last spring. His parents hired this woman to train him to fly again. He’s not good enough that he can play with his team again, but he can fly. It’s changed his life. He’d fallen into a deep depression after the accident, and he’s so much better now.”

Harry looked at the parchment. A smiling woman in a wheelchair held a Firebolt in one hand and waved to him with the other.

“I think you should Owl her,” Hermione said.

He hugged her tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. “As always, I owe you . . .”

She waved her hand at him. “Nonsense,” she said. “Go shrink that silly car and go home.”


Draco nearly mowed him down the second he walked through the door. He zoomed at Harry so fast that Harry had to cast Impedimenta or Draco would’ve barrelled into him. At first he couldn’t tell if Draco was assaulting him, but then he saw the tears of relief on Draco’s face.

“Harry,” he sobbed. He looked so exhausted and broken that Harry dropped his beloved Roadster and fell on his knees in front of Draco, wrapping his arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco choked. “I’ve been so worried. If anything happened to you . . .”

Harry cupped his face and kissed him quiet.

“It’s okay,” he said, pulling away only far enough to speak and then leaning forward to resume their kiss.

But Draco turned his head.

“No, it isn’t okay,” he said fiercely. “The things I said were unforgiveable. You shouldn’t forgive me, Harry. I don’t deserve it.”

“Shut it and kiss me, Malfoy,” Harry growled.

He didn’t even give Draco a chance to protest, and they kissed desperately, clutching each other’s shirts.

“Can’t live without you,” Draco said after a minute.

“Yes, you can. You can do anything you want to.”

“Then I don’t want to; I don’t want to live without you.”

“Okay,” Harry said, grinning into their kiss. “That I’ll accept.”

“Make love with me,” Draco whispered. “I need to know we’re okay.”

Harry nodded and sat back on his heels.

“How do you want me? I’ll do anything you want.”

“Let me fuck you.”

Despite everything that’d happened during the last couple of days – or maybe because of it – Harry’s heart lurched with desire.

“God, yes,” he gasped. “Just tell me what you need.”

“I need a dildo and lube.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Harry said, standing up.

“Wait,” Draco said and grabbed his hand. “Let me suck you first. I want to taste you.”

Harry’s cock stiffened as he opened his jeans and pushed them down to the middle of his thighs. Draco grasped his shaft greedily. He stroked it for a while before leaning forward and wrapping his lips around it.

Harry groaned and slid his fingers into Draco’s hair, feeling Draco’s head bob as he worked to pleasure him.

“Not too much,” Harry gasped. “I want to come when you fuck me.”

Draco pulled back, a thick strand of spit connecting his mouth and the head of Harry’s cock. Harry whimpered and summoned the requested items.

“Sofa,” Draco said roughly. “Now.”

He wheeled over to the sofa, and Harry helped him out of his chair.

“Get undressed and turn around.”

Harry took of his jeans.

“Now bend over.”

“Put it in me!”

Draco groaned and seized his hips, tugging him closer, and a moment later, Harry felt a slippery finger enter him tenderly.

“Don’t want to be prepared; just lube it and shove it in.”

Draco’s laugh was low and gravelly.

“Demanding,” he said and then blew on Harry’s arsehole, making it flex open at the same instant he penetrated it deeply.

Harry grunted from the abrupt sensation and pushed backwards, impaling himself on the intrusion as Draco began pulling it out and pushing it back in again. Harry reached back and seized his wrist.

“Can I sit on your lap?”

Draco made a sound that was a cross between a purr and a growl and helped Harry turn around. Harry straddled his hips and wriggled his bare arse in Draco’s lap. Draco was wearing jeans and the rough denim felt good against his balls. He leaned forward and kissed Draco breathless.

“How many glasses of water?” he asked against Draco’s mouth.

He felt Draco smirk.

“Enough.”

Harry moaned again and began pumping his hips, rubbing Draco’s cock into its partial erection. Draco reached around him and grabbed the base of the dildo and fucked Harry with it as hard and deep as he could.

“Tell me,” he pleaded.

Harry braced his hands on the back of the couch and began thrusting in a rhythm that was going to make him come as quickly as possible. He was frantic for Draco to start pissing, and he’d only start when Harry was on the brink of climaxing.

“Close,” he gasped.

“Me too,” Draco gasped in reply.

And then he felt it. Wet warmth spreading under his arse, soaking Draco’s lap. Harry wriggled and thrust trying to get as close to the swollen head of Draco’s cock as he could so he could feel the urine flow from its source while at the same time fucking himself on the intrusion buried inside him

“More,” he said brokenly. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Harry,” Draco whispered against his ear, and Harry’s hips snapped into overdrive.

“Tell me,” Harry gasped.

“Your arse feels so good – so tight. I’m coming in it. I’m coming so hard . . .”

Draco’s voice was ragged with need as his piss kept soaking the denim between Harry’s trembling legs.

“My cock is throbbing inside you . . .”

“I can feel it . . .”

“I can’t stop coming . . . Your arse feels so good . . . Squeeze tighter . . .”

Even though he knew it wasn’t real – that Draco wasn’t actually fucking him with his cock – Harry felt like he was. He squeezed every muscle in his arse around the dildo and cried out when it triggered his orgasm.

“That’s right, Harry . . . Come on my cock . . . Take it deeper . . . ride it.”

Harry cried out again when another shock of pleasure hit him at Draco’s words. Draco pumped the dildo faster.

“Don’t stop pissing yet . . . !”

Harry felt Draco laugh against his throat.

“My bladder’s empty. I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until I drink more water. Pull off my cock, Harry. I want to eat you out.”

Harry raised himself onto his knees and because Draco was holding the base of the dildo, it felt like it was Draco’s spent cock slipping out of him. He stood up, his legs still weak and turned around. He braced his hands on the coffee table, pushing his arse back toward Draco’s face. Soon he felt Draco’s hands opening him and then Draco’s soft wet tongue breached his opening. He moaned contently and let Draco give him another knee-buckling orgasm.

That night they fell asleep with their limbs entwined and slept like logs.



* * * *



Harry liked Tatiana the moment he met her.

She was cheerful but not nauseatingly sweet and tough but not unfriendly.

And she could fly like an angel despite having suffered a spinal cord injury even more serious than Draco’s. Unlike Draco she was not in control of her bodily functions, couldn’t sit without support and had limited use of her hands. She was candid and unashamed by her condition, which immediately put Harry at ease and made him feel comfortable asking delicate questions.

“My boyfriend’s not going to like that I’m hiring you,” he said frankly. “Are you used to dealing with difficult clients?”

Tatiana laughed. “Most of my clients are difficult in one way or another,” she said. “So, yes. I’ve had a great deal of experience in that regard. How adept was he at flying before he was paralysed?”

“He was the best,” Harry said, flushing with pride. “He would’ve been drafted by one of the national teams if he . . .”

He shut himself up abruptly.

“If he, what?” she asked gently.

“If he hadn’t been a Death Eater,” Harry said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she said frankly. “I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s when it comes to former Death Eaters.”

He nodded gratefully.

“Thank you.”

“Back to what really matters: you say Draco would’ve been drafted. What position would he have played?”

“Seeker,” Harry said proudly. “Like me. We were schoolboy rivals. I was captain of Gryffindor’s team, and he was Slytherin’s.”

She smiled.

“I was in Slytherin myself. I bet you’d like to play against him again.”

“More than anything,” Harry replied.

“I won’t make promises I might not be able to keep, but I think we can at least get him on a broom again. Can he sit without back support of some kind?”

“I’m pretty sure. Yes.”

“And you say he’s not incontinent.”

Harry nodded.

“Good, that means his injury is specific, but incomplete. He’s lucky.”

Harry bristled.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” he said stiffly.

“Trust me,” she said. “Comparatively speaking, he is. He can control when he urinates and defecates.”

She lifted her trouser legs to reveal a drainage bag.

Harry blushed. “I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“Don’t be. Now, does he have any feeling in his legs?”

Harry shook his head.

“Not at all.”

“How about his bum?”

Harry shook his head again. “He can’t feel anything from his hips down, but everything up from there is fine – better than fine, actually.”

She looked pleased.

“Excellent,” she said. “He’s the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. Is he undergoing physical therapy?”

“Yes. Since almost immediately after the accident.”

“Brilliant. How has that gone?”

Harry couldn’t suppress another proud smile.

“His therapist has been amazed. He’s got a lot of strength in his arms and shoulders and abdomen.”

She winked at him.

“He sounds pretty hot.”

“He is,” Harry said emphatically.

“Then it’s a good thing he’s gay because I might try to steal him away from you. When do you want to start?”

Harry took a deep breath.

“I’d like it to be as soon as possible,” he said. “But he isn’t going to like this one bit.”

“Then let’s wait until June. Just being outside in the warm weather will make everything a lot easier. Trust me. I have years of experience working with people with spinal injuries – and prickly Slytherins.”

Harry shook her hand.

“June first then.”

“I’ll meet you at the pitch in Hyde Park,” she said. “One o’clock sharp. Make sure he wears comfortable loose fitting clothing.”

“Thanks,” Harry said sincerely. “If this works, I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“No more than all of us are in yours,” she said solemnly. “Helping your boyfriend to fly again is the least I can do to thank you for your many sacrifices, Auror Potter.”



* * * *



“He assures me he has the biggest cock in the business. He even guarantees it – if we can find another whore with a bigger cock, he’ll give us our down-payment back.”

Harry laughed so hard that he almost dropped the bottles of salad dressing he was holding; he’d been trying to decide whether to get balsamic vinaigrette or blue cheese. He’d been leaning toward blue cheese before Draco had caused him to forget entirely what it was he was doing.

Draco had been “interviewing” prostitutes all week. He told Harry he was looking for a burly bloke larger than Harry who was extremely straight-looking and had “the biggest cock in the known universe.”

I want to pretend that fucking your arse is so sweet that it can turn a hetero rugby player into a homo, he’d said when Harry had questioned him about his criteria.

Why do you think you’d have to pretend? he’d replied.

Finally, Draco had made his choice, and they’d invited the man (“who comes highly recommended,” said Draco, “and, yes, the pun is intentional”) for dinner (among other things), hence Harry’s dilemma over the salad dressing.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter. Just get them both.”

Good idea; Harry put both bottles in their cart and headed for the fruit and veg section. Draco wheeled after him, making people get out of his way while muttering remarks about people’s unwillingness to accommodate the disabled. He loved to make them stammer needless apologies. Harry thought it was obnoxious, but he didn’t say anything. Draco clearly got a great deal of enjoyment out of making strangers uncomfortable, and who was Harry to spoil his fun?

“Do we have enough Pellegrino at home?” he called. “They’re having a sale.”

Draco laughed. “Is there any such thing as too much Pellegrino?”

Harry heartily agreed. He bought every last bottle off the shelf.


The man arrived precisely on time, and Draco paid the rest of his fee upfront. He was handsome, but not really Harry’s type – he liked lean graceful bodies, and the man was barrel-chested with thighs the size of tree trunks and an arse that look like it was made of moulded steel. When he wasn’t serving his clients, he probably spent the rest of his time at the gym.

But Draco was clearly very pleased.

“He’s going to fuck your brains out,” he whispered when the man went to the loo.

Harry got undressed under Draco’s scorching gaze and cast the necessary protective spells, but he didn’t stretch or lubricate his arsehole. He didn’t want the man to prepare him – he’d insisted that that be Draco’s job.

“Bend over the arm of the sofa,” Draco said breathlessly, and Harry complied. Draco wheeled himself close enough that he could lean forward and part Harry’s arse cheeks with his hands. Harry heard him inhale deeply, savouring the scent with a moan.

“Hold yourself open,” Draco said after a moment.

Harry felt Draco circle the rim of his opening with a slippery fingertip and then press against the puckered flesh in the centre until it gave under his touch ever so slightly.

“God, you’re so tight. I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

Harry groaned and pushed his hips back, trying to impale himself on Draco’s finger.

“Slower,” Draco whispered. “I want to feel you taking me in.”

When at last his finger was in as deep as it could go, Draco began sliding it in and out just as slowly as he’d put it in. Harry squeezed his sphincter muscles and heard Draco’s breath catch.

“I’m going to come in your arse,” he gasped. “There’s going to be more come in you than you can handle.”

Harry wriggled his arse, trying to get Draco to press against his prostate, crying out when he did.

“Fuck,” came a deep guttural voice from behind them. “No plug? Christ, his arse is gonna be tight. Where do you want us?” he asked Draco.

“On the rug. I cast cushioning charms so your knees won’t hurt. I want you to take your time.”

He backed away from Harry, and Harry turned around just in time to watch Draco sniff the finger that’d been in Harry’s arse before reaching between his legs and cupping his balls.

“They’re so full for you,” he told Harry, his eyes intense with unfettered desire. “I’m going to empty them in your arse. Now help me out of my chair and put me on the sofa,” he told the burly man, who proceeded to lift him as though he was no heavier than a feather.

Shit, Harry thought. The man was going to fuck him like a stud bull. His cock twitched, dislodging a drop of fluid from the swollen head. The man stripped off his clothes. His cock was enormous and dark purple with thick protruding veins. Harry had never seen a bigger cock in his life.

“Don’t make him come,” Draco instructed the man as he settled into the couch for the show. “His orgasm is mine and mine alone.”

The man nodded his understanding.

“How do you want me to fuck him?” he asked.

Harry thought it was odd being discussed as though he wasn’t there – odd but hot.

“On his knees and forearms, sideways to me,” Draco panted, already clearly very aroused. His hand was kneading his balls as though he had feeling in them. “I want to watch your cock sliding in and out of his arse.”

Harry positioned himself as Draco directed and spread his legs, canting his arse in the air.

The man growled his obvious appreciation, and Harry heard him wanking as he slicked his cock with lube.

“Don’t forget for even a second, Harry,” Draco said fiercely. “That cock that’s going to be shoved up your arse is mine. If you want to be fucked harder or deeper, you’re going to ask me, not him.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Fuck him like it’s the last time you’re going to fuck in your life,” Draco told the man. “Give him all you’ve got. Fuck his brains out, and then tell me when you’re about to come.”

“Oh, it’ll be obvious,” the man said. “I howl like a beast when I come, especially when I’m fucking an arse as sweet as this one.”

He caressed Harry’s arse appreciatively for a moment, and then Harry felt the head of the man’s huge cock nudge his entrance.

“Beg me,” Draco demanded hoarsely. “You’re going to have to beg for me to stick my cock in you, Harry.”

Harry groaned brokenly.

“Please, Draco! I need you so much! Fuck me, please!”

Draco must’ve given the man permission because all of a sudden the huge head of his cock breached Harry’s arsehole. He cried out in delicious pain as the man grunted loudly and pushed his rigid cock even deeper. Harry couldn’t even move his hips – between the man’s huge hands and his massive cock, he was completely immobilised.

“Tell me,” Draco said, panting shallowly. “Both of you.”

“I’m never had a sweeter tighter arse,” the man moaned. He started pumping his cock inside Harry’s body, and every time he thrust forward he grunted obscenely like a grizzly bear. “I’m going to fuck it open with my fucking enormous cock and come in his guts.”

Draco made a sound Harry had never heard before. It was so saturated with lust that it made Harry’s cock throb and leak.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me how it feels, Harry – my cock fucking your arse, tell me!”

“So good,” Harry gasped, barely able to catch his breath because the man was quite literally fucking the breath out of his lungs. “I’m . . . I’m going to lose my mind, Draco. Please! Harder!”

Draco must’ve given the man a signal of his approval because all of a sudden Harry found himself with his cheek pressed against the rug as the man started fucking him through the floor. His heavy hairy balls slapped against Harry’s, making a meaty sound.

“Draco!” he cried out, over and over and over, struggling to breathe between each brutal thrust.

The man grabbed his hips and held them still, groaning and grunting and swearing. Harry could smell his sweat as it dripped on his back.

“Fucking Christ!” the man bellowed. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

He yanked Harry’s hips back toward his pelvis at the same time he thrust into his arse and then did it again and again.

“Tell me when you’re about to come,” Draco said, his voice as savage as the thrusts the man was impaling Harry with.

“Any second now,” the man grunted brokenly, his hips jerking, breaking the rhythm of his thrusts. “Shit! Oh fuck! Jesus! Shit! Fuck!”

“Look at me, Harry,” Draco said fiercely.

Harry turned his head so that he had a clear unobstructed view of Draco’s crotch. He knew what was going to happen any second now, and it made him feel faint with need.

“Shit! I’m coming!” the man roared, and at the same instant, Draco started pissing with a deep groan of release.

“Do you feel it, Harry?” he sobbed and gasped. “Me coming inside you?”

Draco placed his hands on his knees and spread his legs even wider than they already were as piss soaked his jeans and the couch beneath him.

It wasn’t hard to pretend. Harry could feel the man’s cock and balls throb as they pumped out massive amounts of come, filling him. He stared at the wet denim between Draco’s legs, as Draco kept urinating and moaning deep in his throat.

“Holy fucking shit!” the man groaned. “Holy fucking Christ! That is the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen!”

He pulled out of Harry’s arse suddenly with a loud suctioning sound.

“Put your head in his lap,” the man growled and helped reposition Harry so that Harry could bury his face between Draco’s legs. Harry grabbed Draco’s hips and started sucking the salty piss from Draco’s jeans. He felt Draco place his hands on his head as though Harry was sucking his cock.

The man pressed his still-rigid cock in Harry’s arse and began pumping his hips, fucking him deeply. Draco was still pissing, and everything was so warm and wet. Harry whimpered shamelessly as he canted his arse, and took the man’s gigantic cock in as far as he could, squeezing tightly until he saw spots.

The man’s response to the changes in Harry’s body was immediate.

“I’m going shot my fucking load again!” he groaned raggedly. “Shit, I’m going to come! Jesus, you two are fucking hot as fuck! Shit!Shit!Jesus!Fucking!Shit!AAHHH!!”

Draco began moving Harry’s head in a bobbing motion simulating a blow job, and Harry couldn’t take it another second. He reached between his own legs and started wanking, his hand wet with Draco’s urine, and his arsehole contracting around the huge intrusion inside it. The man practically screamed.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Draco sobbed.

With a guttural cry, the man suddenly jerked his cock out of Harry’s arse, and Harry felt thick globs of hot come hit his shoulders and back as the man panted and grunted his release, all the time swearing like a sailor.

And Harry came imagining it was Draco who was coming all over him. He opened his mouth against Draco’s piss soaked crotch but he came so hard he couldn’t breathe deeply enough to shout Draco’s name. All he could do was whimper, his whole body shaking between Draco’s legs.

Harry sat back on his heels when the man stood up and looked up at Draco’s face, praying he’d see there the pleasure he’d wanted to give him.

Draco’s eyes were half-closed and black with blown pupils. He was clutching the sofa so tightly that his knuckles were white. He looked like he might pass out. The flush that usually covered his throat and upper chest stretched down to his navel, and his chest heaved with shallow pants. His nipples were dark and raw from being pinched and tugged mercilessly.

Harry had seen Draco aroused before, but never this much. They sat looking at each other for a long time.

“No words,” Draco whispered. “There are no words. Give me you hand.”

Harry sat back and held out his come soaked hand. Draco seized him by the wrist and began licking his palm and sucking on his fingers.

They heard a deep groaned “Shit!” and the sound of wanking, but neither of them averted their gazes from each other’s. After a couple minutes, they heard the man start to grunt and his hand speed up.

“Come in his hair,” Draco growled.

The man moved to stand astride Harry’s back as his grunts grew louder and more obscene. Harry lowered his face into Draco’s lap again and gripped Draco’s thighs.

“I’m going to come again,” he said low enough that only Harry could hear him, and Harry felt new warm urine flood Draco’s lap at the same moment the man bellowed that he was coming, and Harry felt more hot globs of come hit the back of his head. Draco sobbed and wove his fingers into Harry’s sticky hair as he kept pissing until his bladder was empty.

Harry heard footsteps walking down the hall to the loo and then a door open and close.

“Okay?” Draco murmured and cupped Harry’s chin so he could raise Harry’s head and look deep into his eyes.

Harry could only nod. His mind was completely blown by what they’d just done.

After a couple of minutes, they heard footsteps returning to the living room, and Harry sat back on his heels and looked up at the man’s face. It was flushed, and, like Draco, his pupils eclipsed the brown irises of his eyes.

“I should give you your money back,” he said, his voice serious. “I have never come twice in a session, let alone three times. You two are hotter than fuck.”

He took his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Draco.

“Call me,” he said. “If I’m already scheduled, I’ll reschedule to accommodate you. If I’m in the midst of a session, I’ll cut it short.”

Harry looked at Draco and saw a familiar self-satisfied smirk.

“Does that mean you’ll charge us only half-price,” he drawled.

“Fuck half-price,” the man said, his voice still hoarse. “I’ll give you your sessions for free. In fact, I should pay you. I just got off like I’ve never got before. Blew my fucking mind, it did.”

Draco laughed, sounding pleased and amused.

“You’re a man with a business to think of,” he said. “Don’t give away your more than satisfactory services. I’ll be glad to pay full price to watch you fuck my boyfriend into the rug again. I’m willing to bet he won’t be able to sit at his desk tomorrow without a cushion.”

Harry winced and blushed and rolled his eyes all at the same time. He went to stand up, but the man held up his hand.

“Stay where you are,” he said, smiling broadly. “I’ll see myself out. Oh, and don’t forget the shampoo tonight. Spunk’s hard to get out of your hair after it dries, especially mine – it’s pretty fucking potent.” He winked at them and left. They could hear him whistling cheerfully all the way down the hall to the stairs.

PART THREE

Comments

[moonystone.livejournal.com]

The sexy boobs aren't hot enough for this fic. Damnit, woman *fans self*

You managed to make me like watersports, which is usally a squick for me. And you go and transform it into a proof of love and respect and make it hot. Hng.

The restaurant scene and the whore? Guh. No words. Un-fucking-believably hot.

PS: Hermione is great here. And I love the handicapped flying instructor!

[golden-snitch12.livejournal.com]

“It started with the portraits,” Draco continued. “The Manor is full of portraits of my ancestors. For some reason, Malfoy men almost never father girls, which is predictably a great source of pride for my crusty old forbearers. So when I was ten years-old, they started urging me to show them my balls because in their mildewed old minds the size of a male’s balls dictates whether he’ll father a son or a daughter, and of course the Malfoys want sons – including my father. Merlin only knows what kind of identity crisis he would’ve had if I’d been a girl.”

LOL! The mental image this paragraph conjured really made me chuckle.

“I’m coming . . .” Draco moaned brokenly as he continued urinating. “Oh God, I’m coming, Harry . . .”

Harry sobbed as his orgasm shook his whole body and then dropped him to his knees as though he was nothing more than a ragdoll.

“Christ,” he panted, on the verge of blacking out. “Fuck.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised there were tears on his face.

When at last he found the strength to lift his head and look at Draco, he saw that there were tears on his face as well – tears of release . . . and unmistakable gratitude.

Holy crup!!! You've managed to take a squick and turn it into something sensual and romantic. Part of what made this so incredibly hot was the emotionally connection it forged between Harry and Draco.

“You may be the only person in the world who gets turned on watching his boyfriend drink a bottle of Pellegrino.”

Harry blushed even darker. “Pellegrino” was code for “I’m going to piss for you tonight.” Their cabinets and fridge were crammed with bottles.

LOL!!! You never cease to amaze me. I absolutely adore that you've managed to keep this story so light with humour and romance. You've really shown that it is not just about the sex. There really is a deep, emotional connection between them.

Draco yelled at him. “Stop fucking pretending you’re not disgusted by me! Stop acting like you’re not just a pervert panting after a cripple and drinking his piss, pretending its come. You’re a sick bastard, Potter!”

Even in his stunned state, Harry saw Draco flinch at his own words as his face went from being flushed with anger to pale with shock.

What they did together . . . it was as sacred as anything in Harry’s life.

He couldn’t stay in Draco’s presence a moment longer. He turned his back, grabbed his coat from the rack and ran out the door.

OH NO! Don't fight, boys. This made me so sad for both of them. I was really glad when Draco firecalled Hermione looking for Harry and didn't stay upset too long.

Draco had been “interviewing” prostitutes all week. He told Harry he was looking for a burly bloke larger than Harry who was extremely straight-looking and had “the biggest cock in the known universe.”

OMG! Too freakin' funny! I hope someday you consider writing a one-shot of just Draco's interviews for that week.

Man oh man ... what a papa bear Draco found for them. That was incredibly HOT!!! As in desparately need a ice cold shower HOT ... as in fry the circuits of my laptop HOT ... as in damp knickers HOT!!! WOW!!!

[amandajane17.livejournal.com]

Well it just goes to show that even kink can be romantic when done as part of a loving relationship.
I've always been unsure water sports, but here it was really lovely.
I especially like how Harry flirts by asking Draco how much water he's drunk. Pellegrino even.Ooooh the fancy stuff. * cackle *

Tatiana sounds brilliant. If anyone can get Draco on a broom again,
she's the gal.