[ART & FIC] Fucking Manners
by hobitokki (ao3)
“Fuck – Draco, please… untie my hands,” Harry pleads, scarcely ashamed anymore because he just needs to touch him or he might actually die. If anything is going to kill him, it’s Draco teasingly, slowly, sliding their cocks together with that fucking smug smirk on his face. It doesn’t help at all that the pretty pale skin is also flushed with pleasure, Draco’s perfect lips parted around the hitching breaths that each stroke coaxes from him.
Draco shakes his head, breathless, his hips jerking involuntarily and making them both moan in unison at the slick slide of their dicks encircled within Draco’s grip. “I told you... No touching,” Draco pants, squeezing lightly around the bases of their cocks, his eyebrows pulling together with pleasure, “until I say so.”
Harry practically growls with frustration, attempting to drive his hips up into the sensation, needing more friction, but his current position gives him practically no leverage to do so. And Draco’s slim waist is just there, unheld by Harry’s hands – a true travesty. Those fucking leather belts draw attention to the way his torso tapers down into that waist too, pulling a pathetic whine from Harry’s throat.
Draco had walked into their bedroom like this, wrapped in leather and latex that suctions to his lithe form like a second skin – just bottoms, a collar, and gloves. Leaving basically nothing to the imagination, but making Harry want to rip it all off him anyway. Two belts sit above his waistline, accentuating his waist, and mocking Harry with their clear difficulty in removing. Harry was already in bed when Draco slunk forward and crawled over him with his hand behind his back.
Apparently, he was hiding a chain connecting two nipple clamps that had surprised a moan out of Harry when they were clipped onto him within a second, Draco taking advantage of Harry’s momentary shock at seeing him in that outfit.
“What a desperate little Saviour, you are,” Draco coos and lowers his face to hover over Harry’s. “Maybe if you beg just right, I’ll allow you to touch.” He drags his cock in an agonisingly slow, deliberate thrust along Harry’s erection, and this truly desperate little Saviour tosses his head back with a choked moan. Lifting his head again after a moment, Harry tries to breathlessly capture Draco’s lips in a kiss but the brat remains just out of reach.
That smug smirk is back.
“And what a pretty brat you are,” Harry shoots back. They are both still partially clothed: Draco with that ridiculously sexy leather and latex getup, and himself with simple trousers and a button-down, both of which were undone and open to allow their current antics. They’d been unable to undo one another’s trousers fast enough, fumbling desperately until their cocks had finally touched.
Something seems to switch on in Draco at these words. His eyes glaze over a bit and his breaths turn somehow more shallow, gasping for air that remains evasive. He whimpers out an, “Uh-huh.”
Oh.
It’s Harry’s turn to grin smugly and he manages to push himself up a bit, leaning more into Draco’s space. He grunts when Draco renews his thrusts in earnest, clearly chasing some height of pleasure he found in Harry’s words.
“Oh, look at you,” Harry breathes, his green eyes dark with lust and triumph as Draco’s gaze becomes even more unfocused. “Acting all in control, but you’re not, are you, love?” Draco’s breaths shudder and his hips jerk out of rhythm. “Are you going to come like this? My pretty brat, all needy and desperate to come all over my cock?”
Draco seemed unable to even form words now, so he just nodded unsteadily, a hungry whine escaping him.
“What if I say no?” Harry continues, his voice husky and teasing even as it hitches with pleasure with the strokes of their erections together. “What if I - mm, fuck - don’t want you to come until I’ve filled you up with my cock?”
Draco trembled, his free hand shakily finding purchase against Harry’s hard chest. His hand that gripped their cocks together lagged in the daze of building pleasure. “P-please,” he gasps, eyes heavy-lidded and stormy as he gazes down at Harry. “Need…”
“What do you need, pretty thing?”
Draco whines again, sounding near tears; his hips frenzied now, irregular in a way that told Harry he was close. Harry firmly shakes his head, barely able to keep his own composure and fighting the way his eyes want to roll back. The heat is building mercilessly, threatening to dissolve any and all of his brain function – or what remained of it.
“Don’t.” Harry’s smokey voice leaves no room for argument, and Draco’s expression takes on a desperate mien.
“Harry, please!” Draco blurted with a ragged snag of his voice, his body folding forward like he barely has the strength left to remain upright. “Merlin, fuck, I need to come –”
“I said not until you’re filled up with my cock,” Harry reminds him firmly, and Draco shakes at the authoritative tone. He knows Draco loves when he uses this voice - any time it happens, those grey eyes glaze over and he’s much more willing to listen. “Are you gonna be a good boy and wait?”
That gets a long moan from Draco whose eyes roll back and Harry swears it is one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He hadn’t even considered talking to Draco like this before, with praises and ‘brat’, but it seems to be exactly what they both needed.
“Draco.”
“Yes,” Draco breathes, his head dropping forward as his hips are forced to slow with the painstaking deliberateness of one giving up that peak of pleasure that was so very close. He is positively shaking. Harry almost feels bad. “Wan’ be good.”
Harry has never heard Draco fail to properly speak before and his own cock gives an eager twitch.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, glancing down at their glistening dicks that were still encircled by those slender fingers. Fucking hell. Maybe they can come like this later, but Harry was not playing around with needing to be buried in Draco now. He needed it the moment the man had stepped in with that outfit that adhered to him like inky sin.
“Show me, by riding my cock like the desperate little slag you are,” Harry demands, and he is sure he has never seen Draco move so readily to oblige. Almost like he’s in a trance, the poor thing probably on the verge of pain with how hard he is – if he’s anywhere close to how Harry is feeling. He lines himself up, his movements practised and familiar, and Harry opens his mouth to protest that Draco needs preparation first –
Before he can get a single word out, Draco sinks down onto him and all that leaves Harry is a harsh groan expelled from his lungs. He slides in with little resistance and that somehow makes him grow harder inside Draco’s tight body.
“You –” Harry breathes, dizzy with arousal. He has to blink several times to refocus on the gorgeous man on top of him.
“Prepped myself before even seeing you?” Draco pants, skin flushed and eyes lust-drunk. He smirks again, his cockiness returned. “Yes. Obviously.”
“If you don’t free my hands,” Harry begins roughly, barely managing to speak through his shallow breaths as Draco sinks down to the hilt, “ – fuck, Merlin’s fucking – I can just… undo them myself, you know?”
“Don’t you dare.” Draco hooks his finger over the skinny heart chain connecting Harry’s nipple clamps, giving a teasing tug. A reedy moan jumps from Harry’s throat. The sound makes Draco clench reflexively around Harry’s cock, the two of them grunting at the sensation. Heat pools low in his abdomen, familiar and exhilarating. “Or I’m getting off you.”
“You wouldn’t,” Harry challenges with a cheeky huff of laughter, and Draco valiantly begins to lift his hips. A truly pathetic sound of protest punches out of Harry. “Okay, nono, fuck – I get it, please, just – don’t.”
Draco bites his lip against his smirk and sinks back down, his eyelids fluttering and mouth falling open as he does so. The undulation of his hips is mesmerising and Harry almost misses Draco’s next words. “I didn’t realise you were so pathetic for this arse.” He swirls his hips in a circle and Harry may have briefly gone cross-eyed.
“Gods, yeah, I am.” Harry’s breath shudders as he speaks, his green eyes darkened to a forest canopy. He watches his cock disappear into Draco over and over as he moves, entranced by the sight. “Faster.”
“Manners.”
“There are no manners while fucking, Draco –” The other man threatens to lift his hips again and Harry’s head falls back against the headboard with a thunk as he groans in frustration. “Please.”
“What do you need, Potter?” Draco looks far too self-satisfied. For now, the tables have certainly turned.
Harry is panting, briefly forgetting how to talk altogether as his gaze is glued to where they are connected. A few incomprehensible sounds escape him, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. And, fuck, is he warm. Draco bites his lip again, delighted at how pleasure-addled Harry’s expression likely is. Shifting his weight, Draco bounces a few times on Harry’s cock to get his attention, earning a desperate noise from the man under him; then he slows again and leans forward, hands sliding up Harry’s chest to his shoulders.
“Well?” he teases.
Harry whines. “Kiss me,” he gasps, surprising even himself with his priorities, but Draco looks so breathtaking and pretty. Draco is a tad surprised too, but it lasts a mere second before his mouth is sliding against Harry’s in a hot, messy kiss. Those slender hands frame his face and Harry strains again against the magical ties binding his wrists behind him. His fingertips twitch, aching to have soft skin give underneath their grasp.
Draco starts moving his hips on top of Harry without breaking the kiss, though a hitched moan is captured between their lips. From which one of them, Harry has no idea and doesn’t care. The simmering heat in his low abdomen ignites again with each rocking of Draco’s body. The pleasure pulses outward in waves, their kiss turning sloppy as it becomes more them just gasping into each other’s mouths. Harry’s tongue mirrors his cock as it spears into Draco’s mouth amid their moans.
“That’s it, Draco.” Harry’s words are hitched and broken with his panting and grunts, but Draco lets out a whine in response so Harry thinks he gets the gist. That sound is what does it, and in the next moment, the magical ties dissolve and Harry’s hands have a bruising grip on those slim hips that move so beautifully over his own.
Draco is indignant, or as much as he can be while breathless as he rides Harry, features contorted with pleasure. “Potter, what - did - I say?” He leans forward as his weight braces against Harry’s firm chest. Harry shifts his legs to press his feet flat against the bed.
“I dare you - to stop now,” Harry teases, all while grasping onto Draco’s hips and fucking up into him, Draco’s fingertips curving against his chest as a strangled moan escapes him. Harry knows Draco can’t, not with the way he is moving on his cock, not with the way his moans mingle hotly with Harry’s.
Draco’s mouth falls open and he looks like he so badly wants to at least try to threaten with removing himself from Harry’s cock, just to spite the man, but he only rocks his hips faster and his head falls forward between his shoulders. Harry pulls Draco closer, over him, by the back of his neck so he can mouth at his chest, pulling such lovely noises from Draco’s throat as his cock continues thrusting up into him with abandon. His teeth catch on a pert nipple, followed by a sweep of his tongue.
“If - you wanna come,” Harry begins, breath hot and wet against Draco’s chest, brows pulled together as his pleasure spikes into dangerous territory, “you’d better - say my name, too.”
“Someone’s - fucking - demanding today - huh?” Draco snaps, the intensity of it lost in his flushed face and thin voice.
It seems he hardly has to even think about bouncing on Harry’s cock now: it’s muscle memory, a bone-deep desire that won’t fade until he’s come. They’re built of only sensation now, only pleasure coursing through their veins in liquid fire. The sound of slapping skin, rapturous breaths, and unintelligible pleading fills the intimate space between them.
Harry’s arms wrap around his waist, keeping their torsos flush while he thrusts. The chain between his nipples occasionally catches between them, sending a delicious sting of pleasure shooting through his chest and down to his prick every time it tugs.
“Complaining?”
Draco looks almost drunk now, his eyes heavy-lidded and his lips parted around little “ah-ah-ahs” that are music to Harry’s ears. He bites down on Draco’s shoulder and earns a shout that tapers off into a moan, his lithe body shuddering and Harry knows he’s on the very cusp.
“Gonna -”
“No,” Harry says as firmly as his breathlessness can allow. “Beg. With my name.”
Draco is clinging to Harry like he’s the only thing tethering him to the earth at this point, a being of pure ecstasy. He’s desperate to come, but Harry knows he likes working for it, even if the git pretends he doesn’t.
“Draco.”
The other man is nearly sobbing, his hips jerking along with Harry’s frantic rhythm. The moment Harry begins forcing himself to slow, a wretched sound tears from Draco’s throat and his nails scrape against his chest.
“No, please, Harry!” Draco desperately rocks his hips back onto Harry’s cock, the words slurring together as any pride he may have clung to vanishes within his throbbing need. “Fuck me, please, please - Harry… Harry…”
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good for me,” Harry whispers hotly in his ear and renews his thrusts without restraint. Draco continues this chant of Harry’s name, his breath catching on his shallow breaths and whimpers, the poor man practically sobbing with how needy he is, how close he is to that coveted peak. Harry loves when he gets like this, when Draco is unable to even hold onto his haughty attitude because he just needs Harry so much. Harry could get drunk on the feeling alone.
And when Draco jerks again, Harry breathes, “Come for me, sweetheart,” and then Draco is crumbling into pure ecstasy as he convulses in the throes of his orgasm. Harry is right behind him, unable to hold back from the clench of Draco’s body around his cock even if he wanted to.
It’s an explosive release, the leverage of his feet against the bed urging his back into an arch with the force of the orgasm. Draco yelps, then quivers again around him. Fingertips digging crescents into his tanned skin. Harry loves it. His own grip is surely bruising Draco’s pale hips, so they’re even.
It takes time for them both to come down. Draco has always been sensitive, from the first time they shagged through months up to this point, and Harry has always been feral for his responsiveness. Even the twitch of Harry’s spent cock inside him drags languid moans from him. One of these days, he’s going to make Draco come and come and come until he’s mindless and crying and only knows Harry’s name. For now, though, he gathers Draco to his chest, gentle now, and murmurs praise against the shell of his ear. Draco hums in contentment, the occasional aftershock shivering through him.
“Didn’t realise,” Harry began, speaking softly as his fingers card affectionately through Draco’s shoulder-length hair, “that when we used to fight and I called you brat, you’d secretly be turned on.” He snickered when Draco tiredly smacked his arm. “Thought you got all red from anger.”
“Shut up. We still fight.”
“Now I know how to win every time, though.”
Another smack. “Me too, I’ll just never stop wearing this.”
Harry gives an exaggerated gasp. “That’s cruel.” He wrinkled his nose. “And probably sweaty. You would stink.”
Draco huffs a laugh despite himself. “Then I’d make you wash me.”
“You don’t have to make me do anything,” Harry whispers and nips at his earlobe. A soft sigh answers him. “I’m entirely yours.”
“I know.” It’s affectionate, and carried by an audible smile. He groans and sits up. “Now help peel this rubbish off of me.”
