Fic: I'll Let You Ride Mine...

[dripping_cherry]

Title: I'll Let You Ride Mine...
Author: drippingcherry
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 3.1k
Beta: aigooism
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, et. al. No profit is being made from this fiction. I am not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the legal age of consent in your country.
Summary: Draco wants exclusive rights to Harry's broomstick.
Author's notes: This was written for qumabh for winning my help_chile auction. She requested a fic taking place in the Quidditch locker room, with broomstick banter and rimming. I think I may have gotten carried away with the broomstick theme. I apologise.



The Snitch was nowhere in sight, but Draco couldn't care less about the winged golden ball. This wasn't a match, like the one Slytherin had lost against Hufflepuff earlier that day. He was flying alone to release the tight tangle of anger, defeat, and humiliation in his stomach. Draco's eighth year at Hogwarts wasn't going as planned. He'd promised himself that he would excel in all aspects of his schooling upon his return to Hogwarts; this seemingly trivial goal was his shield against the depression and uncertainty that most of the war's survivors had succumbed to. And it was failing him.

Draco's wet robes flapped wildly in the wind, and the freezing drizzle beat against his face like hundreds of needles pricking his skin. The thrill of the flight should have improved his mood, but it didn't. He remembered the sight of Summerby waving the Snitch victoriously in the air and tightened his grip on his broom. He had no one to blame for himself, not Summerby, and not Potter—definitely not Potter.

It was Draco's own fault that he had come to depend on another person for happiness. Like an idiot, he had allowed his interactions with Potter to become the highlights of his days. He had sought hidden meaning in every furtive glance and fed off of the warmth spreading through his centre whenever his thigh had accidentally touched Potter's under the table in Potions and Potter hadn't move away. He had behaved like a giddy second year girl experiencing her first crush and was now paying the price for his foolishness.

How could he have thought Potter actually felt anything, with the possible exception of pity, for him? Pansy had been right; he'd been misreading all the signs. Potter had made that obvious that morning when he'd lent Hufflepuff's Seeker his Firebolt Blaze. An infatuated wizard didn't hand his love interest's opponent a weapon with which to defeat him. The conclusion was obvious: Potter wasn't infatuated with Draco. And if Draco hadn't become so dependent on the possibility of a relationship with Potter, he wouldn’t have allowed disappointment and jealousy to divert his attention from the task at hand, and he'd have stood a better chance at catching the Snitch.

Furious at his inability to control his emotions even now, Draco slowed down and lowered his broom until it hovered low enough above the ground for him to get off. The Snitched appeared in front of him as he walked toward the broom shed. It teased him by whizzing from left to right, but with the help of his anger and quick reflexes, Draco snatched it effortlessly from the air.

Draco stifled a curse as he entered the locker room and saw Potter sitting on one of the benches, clipping the twigs of his broom.

Potter looked up only momentarily to see who had entered. "Hi, Draco."

"I wouldn't lend that out too often if I were you," Draco said, shrugging off his soaked Quidditch robes. "It wears with use."

Potter shrugged. "An extra match or two won't make a difference."

The rhythmic, deliberate clicking of Potter's pruning shears grated on Draco's nerves.

"Draco, I was wondering—" Potter said, "would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" He looked up at Draco, eyebrows raised slightly above the rims of his glasses.

Draco returned his attention to removing his armguards as he willed his treacherous heart to stop fluttering. He was done setting himself up for more disappointment. "Why don't you ask Summerby?"

"Because—I would rather go with you," Potter said slowly. "You aren't jealous that I let him borrow my broom, are you?"

Draco snorted. "Jealous? That's preposterous!"

"Good," said Potter. "Because if you'd have asked first, I'd have let you borrow it."

Draco ignored him; he didn't find Potter's notion of fairness amusing in the least.

"You know," Potter added, "in case you are jealous—you needn't be. After all, you are the first person who has ever ridden my broom. "

Potter's lewd grin didn't become him, but it made the heat rise in Draco's cheeks nonetheless. "That's disgusting," Draco said, despite the stirring in his groin. "And it wasn't even your broom. It was some old clunky monstrosity you found in the Room of Requirement."

Draco could have sworn he caught a glimpse of Potter's eyes locked on his torso as he changed into his jumper, but by the time he finished and had a clear view, the other boy's attention was back on his new Firebolt.

"So will you go with me?" Potter asked as Draco walked out of the locker room.

"If your life depends on it, then yes, Potter." Draco left the broom shed pleased with the authenticity of his Malfoy drawl. It had likely left Potter oblivious to Draco's elation over the prospect of spending a day together in Hogsmeade.

This time, though, a measure of doubt kept Draco's feet on the ground. He had little faith that this...thing with Potter that had started in the beginning of the term, whatever it was, would be good for him.

♥~ ♥~ ♥

Draco had spent the following school week trying to avoid Potter, mostly to prove to himself that he didn't need Potter's company to be happy. He'd nearly been convinced, that is until Friday rolled around and he had to sit next to Potter for two hours in Potions. What in Salazar's name was Slughorn trying to accomplish by giving seating assignments for entire term?

Being so close to Potter made Draco painfully aware of how lacklustre his life was when they were apart. That twisting feeling in his belly, that warmth spreading through his entire body—those were the things worth waking up for. Great, now I'm thinking like a Hufflepuff, Draco thought with a glance at his Potions partner. Potter noticed and gave a shy smile, which Draco pretended not to have seen. The remaining class time went by much too quickly for Draco's taste, and by evening, he was anxious for morning to come so he could spend more time with Potter.

♥~ ♥~ ♥

The note arrived by owl Saturday morning while Draco stood outside the castle, watching the students who passed him by while he waited for Potter.

I'm not coming

Draco crumpled the paper in his hand and dropped it to the floor. Potter hadn't even deemed it necessary to explain why he wasn't going to show. Resisting the temptation to go back to his dormitory and sulk, Draco clenched his jaw and marched on toward Hogsmeade. It was a mild, sunny day—probably the last of its kind until spring; he wasn't going to let Potter ruin it.

Draco met up with Blaise, Millicent and Greg at the Three Broomsticks, where he drank a couple butterbears and incessantly teased Millicent for ordering gillywater. Afterward, they went to Honeydukes to replenish their supply of sweets. Draco still lingered after the others had paid, pretending he was indecisive.

"Come on, Draco," Millicent said as Draco looked from the sugar quill in his left hand to the Licorice Wand in his right. "Just take whatever you want. You could afford to buy the entire store."

"You go on back to Hogwarts without me," he said. "I still have something to take care of."

Millicent shrugged and rejoined Blaise and Greg, and the three of them left the shop. Draco wanted to do the rest of his Hogsmeade shopping alone; he didn't feel like dealing with the fuss his friends would undoubtedly create over his next purchase.

After paying for his sweets, Draco left Honeydukes and walked along the row of shops until he reached a small group of awestruck children looking through a shop window. He pushed past them and pulled open the door. The inside of the shop was as crowded as the outside, but Draco wasn't bothered. The feeling of glee that rose in his chest as he eyed each of his two potential purchases blocked out the irritation he usually experienced when forced to force his way through a crowd.

Both of Draco's choices shone with polished perfection. As the two most expensive brooms in the shop, the Firebolt Blaze and the Nimbus 360 were the most attractively displayed. Each broom hovered over a modern glass display, rotating slowly for its viewers.

It was a difficult decision. The reddish-brown Firebolt was a smidgeon faster than the Nimbus, which boasted of superior manoeuvrability and responsiveness. The need to reach out and feel the shiny black handle of the Nimbus made Draco's hand twitch, but too many eyes were glued to the rotating broom and the Do not touch! sign in front of it. In that moment, he made his decision.

A few minutes later, Draco left the shop with a long box under his arm and a spring in his step. If Potter was intent on lending out his Firebolt to the other teams' Seekers, so be it; at least Draco's skills would no longer be encumbered by an outdated ride. Despite the giddiness he felt over his new purchase, Draco frowned as he wondered if there was a waiting list for Potter's broom.

♥~ ♥~ ♥

Draco had arrived on the Quidditch Pitch just after sunrise the day of the next match to warm up. He'd only owned his new broom for a week, so he needed all the practice he could get. Today's match was against Gryffindor, and he needed to be at his best to beat Potter to the Snitch. Draco believed his chances were good; he felt refreshed and energised after his brief morning flight. Most importantly, he wasn't allowing his lack of interaction with Potter over the past week to get the better of him—at least not any more than Potter was. Draco's Potions partner had been suspiciously tense and quiet throughout their last class together.

As he returned to the locker room, Draco thought he was experiencing déjà vu. Potter was there again, only this time he was polishing his broom's handle instead of clipping its twigs. He looked up briefly, but seeing who had entered, dropped his gaze back down to his broom without a word. That pissed Draco off despite his best efforts to remain indifferent.

"You're good at that," Draco said. "Is that what you were doing last weekend, when you couldn't come to Hogsmeade? With Summerby, perhaps?"

Potter's hands stopped moving; he opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he shut it again without sounding a word. Draco snorted and proceeded to place his broom in its stand.

"So were you disappointed, then, that I didn't come?" Potter's voice was quiet even in the small empty room.

"What does it matter?" Draco asked bitterly as he started to pull off his left glove.

"It matters to me," Potter said. "You barely looked at me all week. I started to think you weren't interested, after all. Thought I'd spare you the torture of spending time with me."

Draco sighed. "Potter, I don't agree to anything unless I truly want it."

When Draco started to pull of his other glove, Potter said, "No, leave it on..." Draco arched a brow at him. Potter patted spot next to him on the bench. "Come here."

Draco sat down stiffly and watched as the other boy set his Firebolt aside.

"Look, I'm sorry if I've been blowing a bit hot and cold lately," Potter said, "but can't deny that you've been doing the same thing."

Draco thought for a moment, staring at his hands. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I don't want to play this game anymore, Draco," Potter said. The green of his eyes was so intense that once Draco met his gaze, he couldn't look away. "I want you... so if you want me too, then just be upfront about it; otherwise..."

"I do want you." Draco interrupted. "I just want you to myself. Unfortunately the sought-after hero can't seem to settle on one target." He shivered as Potter's finger slid over the textured material of Draco's fingerless glove.

Potter was silent as he connected their fingertips with a feather light touch, never taking his eyes off Draco. "Do you really think I wanted Summerby to beat you? I honestly didn't think he could, no matter what kind of broom he was flying, because you're so much better."He grinned. "At least when you're not seething with jealousy."

"I was not 'seething with jealousy!" Draco protested as he pulled his hand from under Harry's. "Look, we've got about fifteen minutes until the others start arriving—time I think would be better spent doing whatever it is you secretly wish I'd do with this." Draco waved his gloved hand.

Potter's lips twitched at the corner. "Works for me."

♥~ ♥~ ♥

Draco wasn't one to avoid the victorious jubilation of his housemates, especially if he was at the centre of the celebration, but after today's match, he had slipped out of sight and into the showers so that he wouldn't have to return to the castle with them just yet. The rushed hand jobs he and Potter had given each other that morning had left them both wanting more, and they'd had agreed to meet back in the locker room after the game for an encore.

Draco's felt his skin tingle with something more than victory and the result of being subjected to scalding water as he wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the showers. Potter was already waiting for him, still in uniform and examining the new Nimbus 360. Hearing Draco's footsteps, he looked up and his eyes raked down Draco's naked torso to the bulge in his towel.

"Nice broom," Potter said, absentmindedly rubbing the handle of Draco's Nimbus with his thumb.

Draco smirked. "I'll let you ride mine if you let me ride yours."

"Great." Potter set the Nimbus aside and pulled Draco onto his lap. "Let's start now."

The next second Draco's mouth was full of Potter's tongue, and before he had even realised it had vanished, the towel around his waist was gone. The textured leather of Harry's gloves felt rough against Draco's freshly scrubbed skin. The knowledge that he was so exposed, wearing only his birthday suit, while Potter was in full uniform set off that familiar stirring in his groin; his cock oozed a drop of precome, which Potter smeared over the tip without ever interrupting the kiss. Draco groaned when the warmth and wetness of Potter's mouth finally did leave his lips.

"You've been bad today, Malfoy." Potter's voice was low. "You grabbed that Snitch from right under my nose—I'm afraid you'll have to be punished."

"Oh yeah?" Draco rocked back and forth in Potter's lap as he waited to hear an elaboration on what this punishment would be.

"Get on all fours," Potter said, gesturing at the bench on which they sat.

Draco looked askance at him. He hoped Potter didn't want spank him, which he thought would be rather embarrassing.

"Trust me."

Draco obliged and got on his hands and knees on the bench. Seconds later, he felt Potter's gloved hands caressing his arse cheeks and spreading them. He gasped when something wet started lapping at his entrance.

"Fuck," Draco whispered. Turning around to get a look, he was met with Potter's bright emerald stare.

Potter readjusted his grip on Draco's cheeks and plunged his tongue inside Draco. It was an oddly pleasant sensation that made Draco acutely aware of his cock, hard and aching as it hung in between his thighs. He reached for it and began stroking himself slowly

"Don't stop," he said when that hot, wet tongue left him.

"I wanna fuck you now." Was Potter's response as he pushed a lubricated finger inside Draco.

Pumping his fist faster now, Draco pushed back eagerly onto the finger. He begged Potter to hurry up and add another; it wasn't as if he was preparing a bloody virgin.

The bench was rather narrow and difficult to keep his balance on, so once Potter removed his fingers and started unbuttoning his trousers, Draco assumed the more comfortable position of lying face down Potter muttered lubrication and protection spells, and then he was Draco's arse cheeks apart once more and pushed into him from above.

Draco's gripped the bench tightly with his fingers as he tried to control his breathing. Potter was buried to the balls inside him, his weight pressing down on Draco's back. He caressed Draco's side with one hand and gripped his shoulder with the other as he began to thrust, immediately setting off that ruthless twisting in Draco's belly. It wasn't long before Potter was rutting Draco forcefully. The sound of their skin smacking together in a punishing rhythm filled the otherwise quiet room. It was all very arousing—except that Potter shudder and cried out his release way too soon.

Once Draco felt Potter's weight leave him, he flipped onto his back, eager to wank himself to completion. To his surprise, Potter smacked his hand away, instead casting on Draco's cock the same spells he had used on his own. Draco watched, panting, as the other boy positioned himself above his cock .

"Or would you rather take care of yourself?"

Draco shook his head. His eyes were glued to the scene as Potter grabbed Draco's glistening cock and lowered himself slowly onto it until, inch by inch, it disappeared inside Potter's body. Draco grabbed his lover's hips and helped guide him up and down his length. He threw back his head and moaned, hips thrusting involuntarily upward. Potter was as skilled at this as he had been at pounding Draco into the bench and everything else that mattered. Draco felt his balls draw up and pulled Potter down by his robes into a rough kiss. He arched up, moaning into the other boy's mouth and gripping his uniform tightly as he came.

It was possibly the best shag Draco had ever had, never mind that he could count the number of times he'd done it on his fingers. As his breathing slowed and he regained awareness of his surroundings, Draco realised that he still held Gryffindor Quidditch robes clenched in his hands. He let go and looked up at Potter. How he was going to ensure that Potter wouldn't become the centre of his world, Draco hadn't a clue. But he was beginning to toy with the idea that maybe the risk was worth the reward. Potter smiled down at him knowingly, as if he was thinking exactly the same thing.

The End

Comments

[kyliemou.livejournal.com]

Oooo, I love this little oneshot! It's so angsty and *fans self* steamy. :) Great job!

[drippingcherry.livejournal.com]

Thanks :D