A sticky hot mess

Missione 3: qualcosa di appiccicoso.

Parole: 667

Rating: rosso

Draco used to be a normal person.
Well, he was an amazing human being and the world should be thankful for his existence.
But still, his life was rather normal.
A normal potionist’s, pureblood’s, Gryffindor-free life.
But then Harry came around, and with his usual boy-who-lived-twice-so-I-can-do-whatever-I-want attitude waltzed into his life.
He decided by himself he was going to have Draco and he courted the shit out of him.
Draco was just human, and amazing human, but human.
And he was weak to worship.
Sue him.
To be fair, Harry was clueless about fashion but he had some sort of gift for glorious gestures.
Like talking the whole Irish Quidditch team writing his name in the sky before a game or buying him an Island, a real fucking island, for him to enjoy anytime he desired summer during the year.
Even though the gifts were amazing it wasn’t only that.
Money could maybe buy Draco’s attention but there wasn’t a price for his heart.
Harry obliviously got that too. Draco lived a lifetime thinking no more of the scarface that what his father told him, or what the newspaper wrote.
They knew nothing.
Harry was the most famous person in the world. He had everything and yet he had nothing.
Draco was surprised to find layer after layer under the Saviour shield.
There was the teenager, forced to grow fast. The boy, who always had to look out for himself because the people meant to protect him failed him. The child, alone in a house full of people who hated him.
And of course, the man, who fought for everyone safety and now was finally allowed to be selfish.
Draco made his point of honour to spoil him rotten. So he gave him his most precious treasure.
His heart.
And Harry accepted it.
Then he took all the rest of him.
It showed by the way he was always wrapping himself around Draco, pulling him close, claiming his mouth in front of everyone.
Someone try to voice the concern that Draco should have been in prison, but no one dared too.
Draco was Harry’s.
That was pretty much how he found himself in his current position.
Tied to his bed on verge of begging, covered in sticky body fluids and sticky to his bones.
“Harry…stop.” That empty-headed Gryffindor had him on edge for hours. With an evil smile and a stupid muggle vibrating toy.
“You want me to stop?”
“No!” He screamed desperately.
“So I should continue?”
“No…” his voice broke, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“You seems fought. What is gonna be?”
“Stop…stopping!” Was the best he could come up with.
Harry laughed, throwing back his head, but he was right back on him.
Draco screamed when Harry’s mouth closed on him. He was so on edge that he exploded the moment he touched the back of Harry’s mouth.
Breathless and spent he barely registered the plug being pulled out of him.
But he did feel his boyfriend entering him
“No my love, you are so beautiful.” He kissed him, mouth open, teeth against teeth. “What’s your colour?” He asked softly, his voice dripping in love.
“Green,” breathed Draco, winning another kiss.
“Oh, God I love you.” The Gryffindor said start moving.
Draco screamed, his body oversensitive, trapping his lover between his legs, anxious to have him cumming inside.
And so did Harry, before collapsing over him coating himself in the mess over Draco’s body, they would probably end up gelled together if they didn’t hurry up and clean.
The fun fact was that Draco wouldn’t mind being stuck with Harry forever.
“I love you.” Said Harry later, wrapped tight against him, their bodies finally clean.
“You already said that.” Said Draco sassy but happiest like a teenage girl.
“It’s been more than ten minutes…” Harry snuggled kissing the back of his neck.
“I love you too.”

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