Fic: Flush
Feb. 22nd, 2009 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dripping_cherryTitle: Flush
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dripping_cherry
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Written for fun, not profit.
Wordcount: 1,480
Beta:nuclearsugars
Summary: Draco's poker face revealed nothing. How could he remain so cool and collected when the smooth skin under the collar of his shirt radiated so much heat that it was making Harry sweat all the way across the table? PWP
It was all Seamus and Hermione's fault. Seamus's because he had returned to Hogwarts with a poker set after winter break, and Hermione's because she had suggested that it would be a good idea, for the sake of interhouse cooperation, to invite some Slytherins to play. Now Harry was stuck having a showdown with none other than Draco Malfoy, and he could feel the beads of perspiration forming across his forehead.
Harry wasn't sweating about the money. Out of everyone who had played tonight, he and Draco were the two who needed the pot least. But it wasn't a desire to defeat the Slytherin that made Harry shift in his seat, either. The Fiendfyre incident had put an end to their childhood animosity, and although there was still that rift between them that prevented any real friendship from blossoming, this eighth year at Hogwarts had seen its share of civilized interaction between the former rivals. In short, Harry had no idea what was making him squirm in his chair every time a card was laid on the table or a stack of chips was moved to the center. It definitely wasn't Draco's slender hands or those soft-looking fingertips that seemed to caress everything they touched. Of that, Harry was certain.
Draco, who had supposedly never played Texas hold 'em, or any other variation of poker, had an infuriatingly emotionless and disinterested expression cemented on his face. Not a muscle twitched. Ever.
Harry pushed forward a stack of red chips. "I raise you twenty."
"Fold," said Draco without a moment's thought.
Harry sighed. When would this game finally end? The tension building inside him was as irritating as it was perplexing, but he suspected it was nothing that a good wank couldn't fix. He hadn't had one in at least a week. Maybe that was why his jeans became a little tighter every time he lost a hand or Draco folded.
The deck shuffled and dealt itself as Draco directed it with confident waves of his wand. Harry took a discrete look at his pocket cards— queen of spades and jack of diamonds. If he was lucky, he could get a straight.
Draco equaled the big blind and dealt three cards that placed themselves face up on the center of the table. Yes, this was good. All Harry needed to get a straight now was an ace or a nine.
"So what's it gonna be, Potter?"
Harry could feel everyone's eyes on him. Maybe that's why he was so on edge. Couldn't they find something else to do?
"I raise ten," said Harry.
Draco thought for a moment, and then he took ten chips from his own pile to match the bet. His poker face revealed nothing. How could he remain so cool and collected when the smooth skin under the collar of his shirt radiated so much heat that it was making Harry sweat all the way across the table?
Harry felt his stomach drop when he saw the fourth card. It didn't help him at all. Still, he decided to stay in the game. The last card could be the one he needed.
"Stay," said Harry.
Draco's eyes met Harry's for the first time that evening. Just as Harry tried to remember how to breathe, the blond pushed all of his chips to the center of the table. "All in."
Harry slumped back in his seat. He didn't have that many chips. All he could do now was fold or go all in as well. Hell, why not? Draco was probably bluffing. And if Harry did lose, the game would finally be over and he could go rub one out in bed. It was a win-win situation.
Draco dealt the last card. Harry exhaled in relief— it was an ace. Smiling, he laid his pocket cards face up on the table. He might have just imagined it, but he thought he saw the corner of Draco's lips begin to curl before his face became a marble portrait again.
The Slytherin revealed his cards—a two and three of hearts. So he had been bluffing!
"Flush," said Draco.
Harry's eyes darted back to the center of the table and the three hearts that lay there. Shit. How could he have missed that?
"Good game," said Draco as he picked up his wand to put the deck and chips back into their case. He pocketed his money and stood, saying goodnight to everyone.
It was what Harry had wanted, wasn't it? So why did his hand reach out without his permission and grab the hem of Draco's shirt as the Slytherin passed by?
Draco seemed to understand what Harry was feeling, and he gestured toward the exit with a barely noticeable inclination of his head. Harry let go. Once Draco was gone and no one seemed to be looking, Harry went to his dorm room, took out his Marauder's Map, and followed.
Leaving the Gryffindor common, Harry headed to the nearest boys bathroom, where the map showed pacing footsteps labeled Draco Malfoy. What Harry was about to do was both tantalizing and unthinkable.
When he entered, Draco was no longer pacing. Leaning against the tiled wall, the Slytherin appeared just as calm and collected as he had at the poker table. But his Adam's apple gave him away, moving as he swallowed at the sight of Harry.
"I was beginning to think you lost your nerve," said Draco in his signature drawl. He watched as Harry locked the door and cast a silencing charm.
As soon as their privacy was assured, Harry descended upon Draco like a famished Dementor, only it was the blond's body and that final cry of sheer pleasure, not his soul that Harry wanted. Draco's mouth was pliant and yielding. This sign of unquestionable surrender aroused in Harry a desire so overpowering that it surprised and frightened him. But Draco smelled like vanilla and musk, and he was groping Harry's arse, so there was no way in hell that Harry was going to run.
Buttons scattered to the floor as Harry tore Draco's shirt open, revealing a pale, sculpted torso.
"I want you so bad," said Draco, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.
Harry fumbled with the button of the Draco's trousers longer than necessary because his eyes were focused on the bump a little lower. When Draco's pants and briefs were down around his knees, Harry wrapped his hand around the blond's cock and gave it a few rough strokes as they kissed.
"Turn around," said Harry.
Obeying, Draco leaned forward and rested his hands on the sink while Harry unbuckled his own pants and took out his swollen prick.
"This is going to be a bit rough," Harry warned. He cast a lubricating charm before pressing the head of his cock against Draco's entrance.
"I like it rou—" Draco yelped as Harry pushed inside him with an unrelenting stroke forward.
Harry moaned. The tightness around his cock, hot and slick from the lube, made him tremble with need. Digging his fingertips into Draco's hips, Harry set an unforgiving pace, enjoying the feeling of his sack slapping Draco's skin as he rode the blond like one would a whore at a casino hotel. He'd seen Dudley watching a porno like that before, and it hadn't done anything for him. But this did.
Draco, untrue to his prissy manner in public, was voicing his pleasure without restraint. Every moan made Harry's body hum with pleasure. The pressure in his groin was building rapidly, and he sensed that this was going to be the shortest quickie of his life (not that there had been many). It didn't matter, though, because Draco was stroking furiously in between his legs, and just as Harry felt that first wave of his climax washing over him, Draco cried out and drops of milky come began to spatter onto the marble floor. The contracting muscles around Harry's cock milked him as he rode out his orgasm, dizzy from the experience.
Harry pulled out carefully. Now that he was back to himself, he was shocked at the roughness he had shown his partner. Draco didn't seem to have any hard feelings, though— his usually pale face glowed even as he winced while pulling up his trousers. Harry watched in fascination as the blond spelled the lost buttons back onto his shirt and groomed himself so that he looked the same as he had back in the common room, save for the pink flush gracing his cheeks.
Draco met Harry's gaze and smirked. "See you around, Potter."
Harry's stomach fluttered as Draco turned and walked out of the bathroom. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he knew that if Hermione ever suggested inviting Slytherins for poker night again, he wouldn't be averse to the idea.
The End
Author:
dripping_cherry Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Written for fun, not profit.
Wordcount: 1,480
Beta:
nuclearsugarsSummary: Draco's poker face revealed nothing. How could he remain so cool and collected when the smooth skin under the collar of his shirt radiated so much heat that it was making Harry sweat all the way across the table? PWP
It was all Seamus and Hermione's fault. Seamus's because he had returned to Hogwarts with a poker set after winter break, and Hermione's because she had suggested that it would be a good idea, for the sake of interhouse cooperation, to invite some Slytherins to play. Now Harry was stuck having a showdown with none other than Draco Malfoy, and he could feel the beads of perspiration forming across his forehead.
Harry wasn't sweating about the money. Out of everyone who had played tonight, he and Draco were the two who needed the pot least. But it wasn't a desire to defeat the Slytherin that made Harry shift in his seat, either. The Fiendfyre incident had put an end to their childhood animosity, and although there was still that rift between them that prevented any real friendship from blossoming, this eighth year at Hogwarts had seen its share of civilized interaction between the former rivals. In short, Harry had no idea what was making him squirm in his chair every time a card was laid on the table or a stack of chips was moved to the center. It definitely wasn't Draco's slender hands or those soft-looking fingertips that seemed to caress everything they touched. Of that, Harry was certain.
Draco, who had supposedly never played Texas hold 'em, or any other variation of poker, had an infuriatingly emotionless and disinterested expression cemented on his face. Not a muscle twitched. Ever.
Harry pushed forward a stack of red chips. "I raise you twenty."
"Fold," said Draco without a moment's thought.
Harry sighed. When would this game finally end? The tension building inside him was as irritating as it was perplexing, but he suspected it was nothing that a good wank couldn't fix. He hadn't had one in at least a week. Maybe that was why his jeans became a little tighter every time he lost a hand or Draco folded.
The deck shuffled and dealt itself as Draco directed it with confident waves of his wand. Harry took a discrete look at his pocket cards— queen of spades and jack of diamonds. If he was lucky, he could get a straight.
Draco equaled the big blind and dealt three cards that placed themselves face up on the center of the table. Yes, this was good. All Harry needed to get a straight now was an ace or a nine.
"So what's it gonna be, Potter?"
Harry could feel everyone's eyes on him. Maybe that's why he was so on edge. Couldn't they find something else to do?
"I raise ten," said Harry.
Draco thought for a moment, and then he took ten chips from his own pile to match the bet. His poker face revealed nothing. How could he remain so cool and collected when the smooth skin under the collar of his shirt radiated so much heat that it was making Harry sweat all the way across the table?
Harry felt his stomach drop when he saw the fourth card. It didn't help him at all. Still, he decided to stay in the game. The last card could be the one he needed.
"Stay," said Harry.
Draco's eyes met Harry's for the first time that evening. Just as Harry tried to remember how to breathe, the blond pushed all of his chips to the center of the table. "All in."
Harry slumped back in his seat. He didn't have that many chips. All he could do now was fold or go all in as well. Hell, why not? Draco was probably bluffing. And if Harry did lose, the game would finally be over and he could go rub one out in bed. It was a win-win situation.
Draco dealt the last card. Harry exhaled in relief— it was an ace. Smiling, he laid his pocket cards face up on the table. He might have just imagined it, but he thought he saw the corner of Draco's lips begin to curl before his face became a marble portrait again.
The Slytherin revealed his cards—a two and three of hearts. So he had been bluffing!
"Flush," said Draco.
Harry's eyes darted back to the center of the table and the three hearts that lay there. Shit. How could he have missed that?
"Good game," said Draco as he picked up his wand to put the deck and chips back into their case. He pocketed his money and stood, saying goodnight to everyone.
It was what Harry had wanted, wasn't it? So why did his hand reach out without his permission and grab the hem of Draco's shirt as the Slytherin passed by?
Draco seemed to understand what Harry was feeling, and he gestured toward the exit with a barely noticeable inclination of his head. Harry let go. Once Draco was gone and no one seemed to be looking, Harry went to his dorm room, took out his Marauder's Map, and followed.
Leaving the Gryffindor common, Harry headed to the nearest boys bathroom, where the map showed pacing footsteps labeled Draco Malfoy. What Harry was about to do was both tantalizing and unthinkable.
When he entered, Draco was no longer pacing. Leaning against the tiled wall, the Slytherin appeared just as calm and collected as he had at the poker table. But his Adam's apple gave him away, moving as he swallowed at the sight of Harry.
"I was beginning to think you lost your nerve," said Draco in his signature drawl. He watched as Harry locked the door and cast a silencing charm.
As soon as their privacy was assured, Harry descended upon Draco like a famished Dementor, only it was the blond's body and that final cry of sheer pleasure, not his soul that Harry wanted. Draco's mouth was pliant and yielding. This sign of unquestionable surrender aroused in Harry a desire so overpowering that it surprised and frightened him. But Draco smelled like vanilla and musk, and he was groping Harry's arse, so there was no way in hell that Harry was going to run.
Buttons scattered to the floor as Harry tore Draco's shirt open, revealing a pale, sculpted torso.
"I want you so bad," said Draco, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath.
Harry fumbled with the button of the Draco's trousers longer than necessary because his eyes were focused on the bump a little lower. When Draco's pants and briefs were down around his knees, Harry wrapped his hand around the blond's cock and gave it a few rough strokes as they kissed.
"Turn around," said Harry.
Obeying, Draco leaned forward and rested his hands on the sink while Harry unbuckled his own pants and took out his swollen prick.
"This is going to be a bit rough," Harry warned. He cast a lubricating charm before pressing the head of his cock against Draco's entrance.
"I like it rou—" Draco yelped as Harry pushed inside him with an unrelenting stroke forward.
Harry moaned. The tightness around his cock, hot and slick from the lube, made him tremble with need. Digging his fingertips into Draco's hips, Harry set an unforgiving pace, enjoying the feeling of his sack slapping Draco's skin as he rode the blond like one would a whore at a casino hotel. He'd seen Dudley watching a porno like that before, and it hadn't done anything for him. But this did.
Draco, untrue to his prissy manner in public, was voicing his pleasure without restraint. Every moan made Harry's body hum with pleasure. The pressure in his groin was building rapidly, and he sensed that this was going to be the shortest quickie of his life (not that there had been many). It didn't matter, though, because Draco was stroking furiously in between his legs, and just as Harry felt that first wave of his climax washing over him, Draco cried out and drops of milky come began to spatter onto the marble floor. The contracting muscles around Harry's cock milked him as he rode out his orgasm, dizzy from the experience.
Harry pulled out carefully. Now that he was back to himself, he was shocked at the roughness he had shown his partner. Draco didn't seem to have any hard feelings, though— his usually pale face glowed even as he winced while pulling up his trousers. Harry watched in fascination as the blond spelled the lost buttons back onto his shirt and groomed himself so that he looked the same as he had back in the common room, save for the pink flush gracing his cheeks.
Draco met Harry's gaze and smirked. "See you around, Potter."
Harry's stomach fluttered as Draco turned and walked out of the bathroom. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but he knew that if Hermione ever suggested inviting Slytherins for poker night again, he wouldn't be averse to the idea.
The End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-17 07:45 pm (UTC)