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It started with a candy cane.
Well, if he were being honest, it started with dead parents, a missed handshake, seven fucking horcruxes, and a bite to the neck by the legendary Greyback himself.
But that night? That night started with a candy cane.
Harry had reluctantly made the choice to attend the annual Ministry Christmas party, mostly to satiate the complaining of Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley who would just not let up until he showed his black-rimmed glasses at the event. No one from their department ever attended; even after everything that happened, the Wizarding World had very little niceties to spread to the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures.
Still, his godfather was going to be there, as well as all of his friends. Snape had even mentioned bringing Lupin to the event, and he didn’t want to leave him as the only werewolf in attendance. Especially since the full moon was only three nights away.
The evening had started out quiet enough. People mingling with their departments, then slowly greeting others as the booze flowed. He caught a glimpse of Hermione and Ron towards the buffet, and spotted a little Scorpius being chased by his doppleganger father.
Harry volunteered at the department on the weekends, but during the week he was a full-time teacher at Pigspots Primary, where he had the pleasure of having Scorpius in his first year class. He thought it would be awkward, having Draco’s son sitting in one of his desks, but so far it had been pleasant. They had even shared some fond memories at the latest parents’ evening.
However, he knew the last few months had been rough for Draco and his family; especially little Scorpius. He couldn’t quite understand why his father now lived in a flat above The Apothecary in Diagon Alley, and why his mother lived with him at the Manor. Divorce was never an easy thing to explain to children. How can they believe in the promise to be loved forever by their parents, when their parents had promised the same thing to each other and broken their word?
Draco was still at every school event, sitting proudly in the audience. Sometimes he was in a chair right next to Astoria. Other times, he was with Snape or Lupin, or in the front row cheering Scorpius on as he aced his spell bee or threw a quaffle through a ground-level post.
The pair were admiring a collection of gingerbread houses, when Draco caught Harry’s eye. He held up a candy cane, and sucked it into his mouth.
No. He just put it in his mouth. Between his soft, pink, lips. And sucked at its peppermint core.
No. Draco was not a wizard who sucked things. Certainly not long, hard cylindrical things. And certainly not with his tongue swirling over the tip, tasting every last minty drop.
No.
Draco was married. To a witch. He had always dated witches. He was fond of witches.
As straight as a beater’s bat.
Except as he took the long candy cane into his mouth, he winked.
Not a friendly, ‘hi, I see you’, wink.
A ‘hi, I see you’, wink.
A wink that made Harry’s chest tingle. A wink that made his blood flow faster.
He was just too close to the full moon. The tingles were probably nothing more. The heat of his skin was nothing more.
Harry needed a distraction. And maybe a wank.
Just as his eyes started scanning for a loo, he spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at a table.
“There you are!” Hermione said, waving him over. “I thought you were going to stay at home, all alone again.”
“I am not all alone,” Harry protested. “I have my lesson plans, and Neville’s plants, which require quite a bit of work, I might add. And-”
“I’m just happy you’re here.”
“And I’m happy you’re drunk, so I don’t have to stay long,” Harry responded. He gave Ron a pat on the shoulder in welcome.
“Nonsense,” Hermione grinned. “Padma is hosting the after-party, and we are not going to miss it.”
“I might miss it,” Harry said, as he faked a yawn.
“I cannot say I’ll be a part of that either, Granger,” Draco said from over Harry’s shoulder. Harry hadn’t even heard him approach. He couldn’t look, trying to calm the red that he knew was building on his cheeks. “After-parties were for our twenties. I’m too old to be out so late.”
Hermione shook her head in disgust before motioning to an empty chair. Draco pulled Scorpius into the chair, and when Harry forced himself to look, he was relieved to find no candy cane anywhere near Draco’s mouth.
“Now you listen here, Malfoy.” She gave him a smile before cupping her hands around Scorpius’s ears. “I’ve slapped you before and I’ll do it again. I know Astoria is watching Scorpiusin just a bit, because Daphne is watching Rose and Hugo. So you will stay, and you will like it, or I’m going to tell everyone that one of your middle names is Persephone!”
“You wouldn’t,” Draco said, trying to hold back a laugh as she pulled her hands back from a giggling Scorpius. A drunk, feisty Granger was a little hilarious, Harry had to admit.
“I would,” Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips.
Draco held his hands up in mock-defeat. “You win, Granger.”
Ron gave him a friendly punch to his shoulder. “She usually does, mate.”
Harry chuckled, giving a friendly smile to Draco in response.
Draco winked at him again.
Fuck.
—
The table made small talk for a bit, while Scorpius coloured on a spare bit of parchment Draco had pulled from his pocket. After a bit, Draco excused himself and his son to meet Astoria at the closest Apparition point.
When he returned, that damned candy cane was back.
“Gods, does that candy cane just last forever?”
Shit, had he said that out loud? He instantly blamed the glass of whisky, now just melting ice, resting deceitfully on the table in front of him.
“Everlasting charms,” Draco said, without removing the tantalising sweet from his mouth. “I can lick it all night if I want.”
“Oh really,” Hermione said, giving Ron a tap with her elbow. “Hear that honey? Draco can make it last all night.”
Ron almost spat out his sip of vodka soda. “Hermione, really?”
“Think you can lick something that long, Weasley?” Hermione responded to her chastising with a drunk grin.
Ron blushed. “Alright. That’s my signal to get you home, my love,” he said, shaking his head in embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout that, Malfoy.”
“No need to apologise, Weasley.” He grinned at Hermione. “See you both Monday. Hopefully well-rested.”
Ron chuckled and nodded his head in agreement, before gently manoeuvring a whinging Hermione from the table and out the door.
“Are you next, Potter?” Draco asked, holding the candy cane in his mouth with his teeth.
His cock stirred in interest. It didn’t matter how long it had been; Draco calling Harry, Potter, always did things to him.
No.
Saying his last name didn’t do anything to Draco. Draco didn’t care about Potter. At least not like that.
No.
Draco wasn’t interested in Harry. Or any man at that party. Or in the Wizarding World.
“No,” Harry answered. “I think I’ll stay for a bit. I haven’t seen Snape or Lupin yet.”
“They left at least an hour ago,” Draco smirked, his lips closing around that red-and-white swirled stick. “Lupin’s hands were so far down Snape’s trousers I thought they were gripping his ankles.”
Harry’s eyes widened, as he motioned for another drink from a passing waiter. Draco held up his glass as well, signalling for one more.
“I think they’re good for each other,” Draco said, running his finger around the brim of his empty glass. “Snape was lonely for so long.”
“Almost fifteen years since Tonks,” Harry said with a frown. The war was fifteen years ago. It doesn’t seem possible. It felt like just yesterday when the castle was ripped from its core, when he was bitten, when he died.
When he was reborn, his life was now dictated by the moon instead of a Dark Lord, or a Headmaster, or a disgruntled Uncle.
The waiter dropped off two glasses at their table, Harry’s full of dark whiskey and Draco’s topped with vodka and some sort of fizz.
“Cheers to loneliness,” Draco said, lifting his glass.
Harry almost answered with his usual. He wasn’t lonely. He had his friends, and Neville’s plants, and his night terrors and the harsh phases of the moon.
But he was.
He lifted his glass, and clinked it against Draco’s.
“To loneliness,” he said. Then he watched.
Draco had been holding the candy cane towards the side of his mouth as he spoke; before he pulled the glass to his lips, however, he took the cane deep into his throat so that only the u-shaped handle remained. He pulled it out slowly, his eyes locked on Harry’s own until the shaft rested on his bottom lip.
He stuck his tongue out, licking the swirled edges before withdrawing it from his mouth and placing it delicately on a plate, empty but for biscuit crumbs. Only then did he take a sip of his drink, still staring into Harry’s eyes.
“What are you doing,” Harry asked, surprised at how gruff his voice sounded.
“What do you want me to be doing?”
Harry cocked his head in response. He could think of a thousand things he’d want Draco to do; several of them involved that very candy cane resting innocently between them. But before he could open his mouth to even voice one of the filthy thoughts rushing through his mind, Draco spoke again.
“I would, you know.”
“Would what?” When did his voice get so breathy? The heat from the party and the alcohol was getting to him. He shouldn’t have ordered another drink.
“Treat you like this,” Draco motioned to the peppermint stick. “Lick you like this. Swallow you like this.”
“Merlin Fucking Hell,” Harry let out with a whoosh. “You’re married.”
“Divorced. You know that.”
“To a woman.”
“Yes, Astoria is a woman.”
“I’m a man.”
Draco placed his long fingers on the plate, surrounding the peppermint cane. “I am well aware, Potter.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I don’t have to be, if you don’t.”
Harry huffed. It was hard to believe when the room was starting to spin in on itself.
Draco pulled out his wand and two phials from his pocket. One vial ended up in Harry’s palm, while the other was poured into Draco’s glass. “Sobering up potions.” He nodded towards Harry’s hand. “It’ll feel like you were only drinking pumpkin juice tonight.”
“I want you to taste like peppermint, not pumpkin,” Harry answered too quickly for his own comfort. Shit. He really needed to sober up. There was a strong chance Draco wasn’t even saying what Harry was hearing. Maybe Draco was just trying to get home, to his warm, comfortable, lonely bed, with a metal headboard that would look perfect with Harry’s tie knotted around it.
Draco smirked, as he downed his drink. Harry watched as the bubbles disappeared down Draco’s beautiful throat. “That can be arranged, Potter.”
Fuck. Maybe he did know what the sound of his last name did to him.
Draco flipped over the sheet Scorpius had been drawing on earlier, and scribbled down a floo address. “Come over. Tonight, tomorrow, I don’t care.” He took the candy cane and slid it back into his mouth. “I’ll be ready,” he said with a wink, before he walked out of the party and into the brisk, December air.
—
Harry poured the sobering potion into his glass and took a sip, hoping that once the fogginess disappeared he’d be able to decipher their conversation. There’s no way that Draco wanted him. Certainly not like that.
But as he drank each sip and became more and more sober, he simply couldn’t find another explanation to Draco’s behaviour. He wanted something.
He wanted Harry.
Harry swallowed the final drops of his sobering draught, and shoved the bit of parchment into his pocket. The Ministry had several floos at his disposal, of course, but he didn’t want his travels tracked. Especially if those travels involved going to Draco’s private floo.
Instead, he Apparated to a point about a street away from his flat, and let the cold air calm his flushed cheeks. His first instinct was to run directly into his floo as soon as he entered his flat, but he still couldn’t fathom the fact that Draco had invited him over. He needed to relax first.
Harry started the shower, stripping off his party clothes. The hairs on his arms were already starting to bristle from the upcoming moon, and his cock plumped as soon as he stepped under the scalding water. The sensation of rain coursing down onto his skin felt incredible after the stifling ministry party. He let his hands wander, over his shoulders, down his chest, until they rested against his thighs.
His bite mark was always more sensitive the closer he was to a full moon. Harry traced the outlines of the teeth marks on his lower thigh, closing his eyes as his body shivered at the touch. His right hand gripped the base of his cock and stroked upward, allowing the sensations to vibrate through his body.
He didn’t allow himself to come; instead, he focused on the feel, the adrenaline, the awareness of his skin, and limbs, and need, before the moon overtook him. It reminded Harry of when Voldemart was there, tucked into the back of his mind, watching, listening, waiting. As if he was haunted.
The thought sent goosebumps over Harry’s skin, and he turned the water dial to ice cold. He needed to calm down, to be as present as possible if he were to go over to Draco’s.
He stepped out of the shower, determined to keep his wits about him as he gathered a couple of items from his trunk. Harry dressed in light washed jeans and a soft striped shirt, and placed his collection of things into his pocket before finally grabbing a pinch of powder and ducking into the floo.
—
Harry stepped out into a darkened room, lit only by a sole candle lit over the fireplace. He opened his mouth to call out Draco’s name, wanting to make sure he was in the right place, and of course, was still welcome at that address. But before he made any sound, he heard a long, low moan coming from the darkness.
It sounded enough like Draco for Harry to lift the candle off of the mantlepiece and carry it down the short hallway. The first door on his right was open; through the flickering flame of candlelight, Harry could make out a bed and a body.
Not just any body. Draco was spread across the bed, positioned on all fours facing the headboard. He was naked, ankles spread wide and wrists tangled above his head.
Knotted, Harry realised as he ran the candlelight up and down Draco’s form. His eyes were closed, his mouth hanging open as he moaned again. It wasn’t until Harry circled his bedframe that he discovered the reason for his wanton cries.
Draco was filled with candy cane, its hook moving back and forth as its length penetrated him. Harry assumed it had to have been the same hard candy Draco had been sultrily sucking all night, lubricated with his saliva as it slid back and forth.
“Want,” Draco moaned as Harry lit up his face with candlelight.
“What do you want,” Harry asked, curious and with the same surprisingly deep gruff his voice had before. He knew he had taken the sobering potion; he was almost positive Draco had taken it as well. But he still wasn’t going to move forward without a resounding, consenting yes.
“Want you to fill me.”
“With what,” Harry said, pressing his hips into the mattress where Draco kneeled. It gave him a bit of relief as he tried to remain calm.
“With your cock, Potter.” That time Draco said his name with a bit of anger, a hint of what he had sounded like in second and third year. As if he was annoyed; as if he was impatient.
As if he had been following Potter around, watching, waiting, desperate for his attention.
It satiated something deep inside him; something that longed for that time before the war, when his biggest fear was following spiders and saving Sirius. They felt like such big problems at the time, but they were nothing. Nothing compared to what the following years would unveil.
“You look filled already, Malfoy,” he said, letting his voice snarl in a way he hadn’t done since they duelled as children. He wondered if Draco was feeling the same, clinging to that desperate time when the worst thing they had done was cast a Serpensortia. It gave him an idea, and with a hiss, he mumbled, “ Hishe ʃena .”
Draco wouldn’t know the spell cast in parseltongue, but he’d understand fast enough. Harry anxiously watched as Draco opened his eyes, searching for Harry’s face glistened by candlelight as the candy cane inside of him grew.
Harry licked his lips as he studied Draco’s face, flickering from pleasure to pain as the candy stick continued to penetrate him. He cast a silent lubrication charm, adding to the slick spit that Draco had coated the cane with previously.
He wondered if this was the first object to penetrate Draco; if something as small as Astoria’s pinky finger had ever attempted to breach his furled hole. Perhaps it had been something larger, a carrot from the garden, or even a courgette. Or a cock. Someone else’s cock, pulsing as it emptied itself into Draco.
No.
If Draco was willing, Harry had hoped he would be his first.
“Have you done this before, Malfoy?” he said, his voice grisled with need.
Draco didn’t answer. Instead, he let his head drop until it was buried into his pillow.
That wouldn’t do.
“Tell me.” He whispered a spell in the direction of the peppermint stick, satisfied when he heard a faint buzzing noise. The candy started to vibrate against Draco’s core, pulsing as it opened him up for Harry’s taking.
“What, desperately fucked myself with a candy cane in front of Harry fucking Potter?” He said as he lifted his head off of the pillow. “You caught me, Professor. First time.”
He whined as Harry increased the pulsing speed in retaliation. “I’ve always wanted to shut up that sarcastic mouth of yours.”
“So do it,” Draco spat. “Fucking do it.”
Harry didn’t even bother to tear off his shirt. He unbuttoned his jeans, rapidly tugging them down until his cock was unleashed. Draco’s eyes widened as he took in the length, with its shiny tip reflecting in the candlelight.
He pushed the fabric of his shirt underneath his chin before leaning forward and feeding Draco his cock. Draco’s own hands were still tied to the headboard, his long fingers curled around the thin brass rods. Harry thought for a moment about untying them, letting those fingers wrap around his own length, but decided he quite enjoyed a knotted Draco, even if it wasn’t with his cordage.
Draco was bound, naked and desperate. Perfectly positioned on white sheets for Harry’s pleasure.
Harry dragged the tip of his cock across Draco’s bottom lip, tracing the outline he’d been staring at all night. “Tuck your teeth,” he said, and paused to let Draco adjust his mouth before he pressed inside.
It felt incredible, as if the years of spoken insults turned into hot, wet pleasure. He wanted to push faster, to press his cock all the way down that delicate throat of Draco’s but he held still. He wanted Draco to get used to the feel of Harry’s cock on his tongue before he continued.
Draco took him down earnestly, swirling his tongue along Harry’s length, drawing him deeper and deeper into his mouth just as he had the candy cane. His teeth grazed his sensitive skin just once, and when Harry winced, Draco quickly soothed the spot.
“Want me to fuck your sweet mouth?” Harry asked. When Draco nodded his head, his grey eyes looking up at him through dark eyelashes, Harry continued. “Try to relax, and breathe through your nose.” He quickly added, “if you need to stop, tap your nails on your headboard.”
He slid his fingers into Draco’s hair, relishing how soft it was. Realising how long he had wanted to touch it, to coil it around his fingers, to mess it up as he gripped it into his fist. He yanked Draco forward, taking control as he pushed his cock to the back of his throat.
The sounds of Draco’s moans, gagging around Harry’s cock as he adjusted to his girth would have made a younger version of himself come instantly; spilling his need down Draco’s perfectly constricting throat. Instead, he dug his nails into his thigh, right above his bite, and clung to the fact that he was in control of his pleasure; in control of his release.
He rubbed the back of Draco’s head as he fucked into his mouth, soothing him with whispers about how good it felt, how he was opening up for him, how well he was taking his cock. It was no surprise to him how good Draco was with his mouth.
Especially after toying with him all evening. Or for their entire lives.
“Fuck, Malfoy,” he groaned as Draco took him down his throat one more time. He wiped away a small tear from Draco’s cheek as he finally withdrew, stepping backwards until his cock dangled hard and wet in front of Draco’s mouth. “So good.”
Draco stared up at him, catching his breath as Harry pressed his thumb into his chin. In that moment, Harry wanted to tear the sweet treat from Draco’s arse and taste every drop of peppermint that remained.
Still, he remembered his own first time, how scared and desperate he had been. How on edge he was; how tight he had been wound after years of denying himself any pleasure.
“Do you need to come before I fuck you?”
The answer was in his stiff back, in his raised hips, in his clenched fists around the brass headboard. He knew the answer before Draco nodded.
“Do you want my hands, or my mouth,” Harry asked, his thumb rubbing the side of Draco’s cheek.
“Fuck,” Draco answered, his voice scratchy. Harry moved his thumb to rub against his throat, hoping to soothe any discomfort he was feeling there. He checked his wrists to make sure the blood was still flowing properly while waiting for Draco to collect his thoughts. “I- fuck, just get on with it, will you?”
No.
His first time, their first time was not something they would rush. If Draco wanted this, if he actually wanted this, him, them, he wanted to make it last.
However, he knew how difficult it was to actually ask for what you want. To voice your innermost thoughts, your desperate needs. Especially with someone you may not fully trust.
“I want you to come, Draco. Now, I will ask again. Do you want me to spit into my hand so I can wrap it around that beautiful cock of yours, while my fingers trace your sticky rim? Or do you want my mouth, tasting you with my tongue until you come down my throat?”
“Fuck, that. I want that.”
“Good,” Harry nodded, giving Draco a satisfied grin. He walked to the edge of the bed before lowering himself to the mattress. His back was against Draco’s soft, white sheets as he positioned his chest directly beneath Draco’s thighs. Propping himself up on his elbows, his nose buried into the thatch below Draco’s stomach, Harry wrapped his mouth around Draco’s cock, and sucked.
Harry sucked like he had seen Draco suck that bloody candy cane the entire night. He twisted his tongue around Draco’s cock like it was a sweet treat, like he could lap at its minty goodness for the entire night. He let the tip of Draco’s cock press against the back of his throat as he swallowed him down, his fingers dancing up Draco’s thigh until they pressed against the width of the candy cane. He could feel the vibrations on the tips of his fingers as he traced Draco’s hole.
Draco let out a string of profanity ending in a moan of ‘ Fuck it, Harry,’ as he came, his cock buried in the deep heat of Harry's throat and his arse penetrated by a thick, vibrating, candy cane. Harry quickly stopped the candy’s vibration, and had to pull his hand from Draco’s rim and grip his own exposed cock to keep himself from coming at the sound of Draco’s orgasm.
Draco’s body was still shaking in post-orgasm bliss as Harry twisted his body off of the bed. He knelt down next to Draco’s bed, pressing his hard, wanton cock against the bed frame as he pulled Draco’s lips to his own.
Their kiss was desperate, Harry wanting Draco to taste himself on his tongue, and wanting to chase any lasting drops of peppermint Draco still had on his tongue. Their teeth clashed as they pulled each other deeper and deeper into their kiss, and when Harry finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” Draco asked, his eyes wide. Harry couldn’t tell if it was fear, like the first time he saw Buckbeak, or if it was interest, like the time he watched Harry catch Neville’s remembrall.
He paused, his thumb pressed against Draco’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more than to replace that sticky candy cane you’ve been teasing me with all night, but if you aren’t sure-”
“I’m sure,” Draco said, closing his eyes so his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. Harry placed a soft, encouraging kiss on Draco’s lips before quickly stripping off his shirt and jeans. His own cock was hard and eager; it was so close to the full moon that his entire body was tingling with want.
He positioned himself behind Draco, desperate to taste even more of the candy cane that had been teasing him all night. Leaning forward, Harry lapped his tongue around the shaft of the candy cane, greedily tasting both the sweet peppermint and Draco’s taut, needy hole.
“dorʃesine,” Harry growled in parseltongue, and Draco groaned as the peppermint stick slid gingerly out of Draco’s hole. Harry watched it flutter for a moment, as it adjusted to its emptiness.
“Want you inside of me,” draco groaned as Harry climbed up onto the bed.
“Fuck, I want this,” Harry moaned in response. The words had come out so naturally that he wondered how long he had wanted this. Since he saw Draco, fit as fuck and so loving towards his son? Or earlier, in the paper announcing his nuptials. Or perhaps even in sixth year, when he was tracking him so closely he knew his every move? He supposed it didn’t matter when he built a desire for Draco; only that he had it and that he was able to act upon it.
Draco was still bound, gripping his headboard. Harry pressed a calming hand across Draco’s spine, before positioning himself behind Draco, his knees on the mattress.
“Remember to breathe,” Harry said encouragingly, the tip of his cock pressing lightly into Draco’s entrance. Even though Draco had been loosened by the candy cane, Harry was still a bit bigger; it wouldn’t help if Draco tightened up against the inevitable discomfort.
He gently gripped Draco’s hips, and focused on pressing in as slowly as possible. He didn’t want to hurt Draco, but he also knew how hard it was to remain relaxed.
Harry thought back to his own first time, quick and rough against a brick wall outside of a muggle club. He had charged into the club that night with the full intent of getting fucked,, not truly caring how or to whom, as long as they didn’t mention his scar or his parents or the ghastly teeth marks on his upper thigh.
The muggle didn’t care about any of that; he knotted his brute hands into Harry’s hair and shoved his cock painfully in. Harry had come against the siding of the club, painting the grout with his orgasm, while tears landed heavy on his cheeks. He didn’t want Draco to have the same experience; not when he could be releasing tears of bliss after an intensely pleasurable climax.
He listened to Draco’s moans as he entered him, pausing with each hitch of his breath. He waited patiently for Draco to adjust to his girth before he continued to press himself into Draco’s core.
It felt incredible when he was fully sheathed inside Draco. It had been a long night of teasing after what was probably decades of want, and now they were here. His cock was throbbing, begging for him to go faster, to rut his hips, to come, but he forced himself to slow. He was too close to the full moon; if he let his instincts take over, he would lose the strands of control he was desperately holding together.
He focused on his fingers pressed against Draco’s soft skin, the way his spine rippled along his back. Draco was letting out little puffs of air, and Harry timed his hips to the rhythm, pulsing slowly as they both adjusted to their joined union.
“Yes,” Draco let out as he arched himself into Harry. “Fuck, this is so much better.”
“Than a candy cane?” Harry chuckled, before letting one of his hands drop to caress Draco’s hard cock.
“ Fuck, ” Draco moaned at Harry’s touch. “Better than I thought it could be.”
Harry could feel his cock thicken at Draco’s words and he was struck by a sudden emotion; he wanted to see Draco. He wanted to see him come.
He pulled himself off of Draco, and with a silent spell, he loosened the knots tied to the bedframe. Without saying a word, Draco slipped his wrists out of their bindings, and shifted onto his back. His eyes were deep orbs of grey and black and want.
Harry placed a soft kiss onto his lips, before gathering his ankles and pulling them to his shoulders. He pressed himself back into Draco, and watched his face contort as his body adjusted to his length once again.
“ Yes, yes, yes ,” Draco whispered softly as Harry fucked him, pumping his hips in a controlled rhythm. His cheeks were blushed, and Harry wondered if this was the first time Draco let himself crave something so primal. His eyes were closed, and he looked so beautiful, so different than the angry boy Harry had known for so long.
He wanted to taste. He had to taste Draco’s sweet, peppermint mouth.
Harry leaned forward, pressing even deeper into Draco as his lips found their way to Draco’s neck, to the hard chisel of Draco’s jaw, to the soft lips that had spent so many years saying the most hurtful words. He kissed Draco ferociously, lips and teeth and tongues passionately at war and at bliss.
He felt Draco arch back, pressing his hips higher, taking even more of Harry’s cock, and soon he was shaking beneath Harry in the throws of his own pleasure.
Harry kissed him, his collarbone, his chin, his cheek. His eyelashes, clumped with salty tears. Draco was beautiful, panting beneath him, so soft and pliant in his post-orgasm bliss. He wanted to hold him, to wrap his arms around him and keep him safe from the pain they had both been through for so long.
He lost himself in Draco as he chased his own orgasm. His hips thrust and his body covering Draco’s own, and before he could stop it, he was coming, fast, hard, deep into Draco’s core. His lips moved to Draco’s neck as he lost himself in the ripples of his orgasm, and it felt good, so good, to finally have this, to have him and them and this night and the candy cane, and he forgot.
No.
“Shit,” Harry said, as he felt the base of his cock thicken. He tried to pull back, but it was too late. He was blissfully, angrily, knotted in Draco’s core. “I’ve - fuck, I’ve seemed to have locked us here for a bit.”
Draco smirked, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist before pulling Harry close to his chest. “Severus told me this might happen.”
“Snape knew about this?” Harry chuckled, pressing his cheek to Draco’s own, breathing in his scent as his knot tethered them together.
“Of course,” Draco chuckled, and Harry could feel his laughter in his chest. “Who do you think gave me the candy cane?”