Smutty fic
Feb. 11th, 2007 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlite_trystThe BAFTA's (think UK Oscars) held at a new venue this year - the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. To celebrate the use of one of my favourite venues, I thought I'd dust off a very early fic of mine using that location. It was my first smut too, and will always hold a special place in my heart. It's been overhauled and, I think, much improved. If you've wondered where Harry's obsession with dancer Adam Cooper stems from, read on:
Title: After The Ballet Is Over - The Director's Cut
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lusiology
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3475
Beta:saladbats, mistakes in the additional material are my own.
Summary: “And I double dare you, Harry, to tell me right here, right now, what you fantasise about while you wank off in your little office." He leaned closer and murmured, "While you fuck your hand.”
A/N: Originally written forjamie2109 and nocturnali’s AWDT.
Standing outside the front entrance of the Royal Opera House, slightly apart from the others, Draco declined Hermione’s suggestion of a post ballet supper at Sarastro, citing a headache and the need for air. He turned abruptly and began to stride through the noisy throng on Bow Street toward Long Acre, not looking to see if Harry was following. Harry’s smile evaporated at Draco’s sudden departure, the cause of Draco’s earlier anger so obviously not yet forgiven.
Harry's mind chose that exact moment to oh so unhelpfully supply him with crystal clear images of himself bursting into the sitting room, earlier that evening, naked as the day he was born, to surprise Draco. It was meant to be a joke, that after a tortuous day shopping with Draco for new clothes, his chosen suit for the evening would be his birthday suit. Heat suffused Harry’s face. Not only had he surprised Draco - no, surprised didn’t even begin to cover the expression on Draco’s face, shock was more like it – he’d also stunned the room full of unexpected guests, friends who’d been invited to see the new, improved, fashionable Harry.
He glanced at Hermione who was standing next to him, and then said, “He’s obviously still mad at me.” Harry shook his head and sighed as he watched Draco’s rapidly diminishing back. “It was only meant to be a bit of fun. Why can’t he see that? I’m the one who looked like a total prat in front of you all, not him.”
“Harry, you know Draco. He likes things to be ‘just so’. He wasn’t expecting you in your… birthday suit, none of us were. He’ll come round and see the funny side, you’ll see. Now go, before you lose sight of him.”
Harry caught up with Draco by All Saints, on Long Acre, and fell into step beside him, relieved to finally be away from the barely hidden smirks of his friends. The silence between them was in sharp contrast to the excited chattering of the crowds returning home from the theatres, or the revellers still seeking out pubs and clubs to while away a few more hours, until their beds beckoned them home. Harry occasionally glanced at Draco hoping to see some softening of those taut features, but Draco kept his eyes fixed firmly on the distance as he walked briskly along.
Leicester Square underground station was hectic. Harry took the lead, not wanting to lose Draco, threading his way through the mass of people, past the barriers and on to the long escalator that led down to the platforms. Harry always felt as though he was going on his very own journey to the centre of the earth when he travelled on the Underground. As they slowly descended he could feel Draco’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. Suppressing the urge to turn and offer Draco yet another apology - the fifth this evening and just as likely to fall on deaf ears - Harry tried to think of a way to placate Draco before they got home. He didn’t want the memory of a wonderful evening to be ruined by a blazing row, all because of a stupid joke that would have worked if their friends hadn’t been present.
Harry stepped off the escalator and headed down the tiled passageway toward the westbound platform of the Piccadilly Line. Turning into the entrance he glanced at the wall and stopped dead, causing Draco to collide with his back.
“What the fuck, Harry?” Draco demanded as he stooped to retrieve the programme he’d dropped from the litter-strewn floor. “What have you stopped for?” Harry didn’t answer. He stood transfixed in front of a large black and white poster, totally oblivious to the crowd around him, including Draco.
Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder at the image in front of him and met the piercing stare of a semi-naked man. He prodded Harry in the back to get his attention. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Adam Cooper,” Harry answered breathlessly, still staring at the large poster on the wall.
“Who?”
Harry turned to face Draco, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Adam Cooper. He’s performing here in London, in July and August.” He looked back at the poster. “Isn’t he magnificent? I saw him on TV once, at the Dursely’s. He’s sex on legs Draco.” Harry gazed in contemplation for a moment longer before murmuring, “Oh yes, Sex. On. Legs.”
Draco frowned and looked again at the figure before him. He could definitely see the appeal, the handsome face, broad shoulders, well toned abdominal and pectoral muscles. He could also see the effect it was having on Harry and a spark of jealousy ignited inside him. He gripped Harry’s elbow possessively, ready to steer him through the crowd. “Come on,” he coaxed, his earlier mood forgotten, “or we’ll miss the train.”
Draco manoeuvred Harry into the corner by the opposite doors of the carriage. The compartment continued to fill, shrinking the space they were occupying until Harry was perched on a padded ledge, or ‘bum seat’ as it was known, sandwiched firmly between the wall of the carriage and Draco, his thighs either side of Draco’s right leg. Draco reached up and held on to the handrail with his right hand for support while Harry settled for holding on to the front of Draco's midnight blue, Paul Smith jacket. He looked up to find Draco staring intently at him. Harry swallowed; that specific look, as if Draco wanted to devour him, always made his knees go weak and his balls tingle. “Well, this is cosy,” he quipped and was relieved when Draco leant forward and murmured into his ear:
“One could almost describe it as intimate.”
Maybe the evening would end well after all.
The doors closed and the train began to pull out of the station. Lurching forward, Draco swayed against Harry, his body following the oscillating rhythm of the train as it began its high-speed dash to the next station. Harry seemed distracted, staring into space, so Draco leaned toward him and breathed in his ear: “Tell me more about this dancer you’re so captivated with, this Adam Cooper.”
Harry’s eyes snapped back to Draco and he held Draco’s gaze, looking relieved that the earlier tension between them had disappeared. Draco’s request had initially been a way of gaining Harry’s attention – something he liked to be the centre of, truth be told – but in the harsh bright light of the carriage there was no mistaking the blush that spread so delightfully across Harry’s cheeks.
Interesting.
Draco licked his lips and settled himself closer to Harry, waiting for his curiosity to be satisfied. Harry took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Draco knew that the reason for Harry’s deepening blush would not be forth coming without such a promise.
Keeping his face straight, Draco replied, “I promise.”
“I’ve been a secret admirer of his for years, ever since I saw him in an all male version of Swan Lake.” Harry’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It was incredible, Draco. The way he moved, there was so much chemistry between him and the prince that I used him as my…” he paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed, the flush spread further across his face and down his neck.
“Your… what?” Draco asked, softly.
Harry looked away and worried his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe he was about to reveal something so private, so secret, here in this crowded public place. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought as he leaned closer to Draco and lowered his voice. “I used to fantasise about him when I wanked. You know…” Harry pulled on the front of Draco’s jacket so that he could whisper in his ear: “Before I started wanking to thoughts about you.”
Draco pulled back, his eyes wide. “Before me?” he said in a choked whisper. “You wanked to thoughts about me?”
Draco’s reaction gave Harry the confidence to reveal more. Once more he tightened his hold on the soft, velvet fabric and drew Draco down toward him. Slowly tipping his head, so that his lips brushed against Draco’s ear, he dropped what he knew would be a bombshell: “Still do sometimes, Draco, during the day at work.” Harry loosened his hold on Draco, and met his stunned expression with a smirk any Malfoy would’ve been proud of.
Draco was sure that it wasn't the way his cock repeatedly brushed against Harry’s thigh through his trousers, as the train surged through the tunnel that had made him hard. It was the mind melting image of Harry with his trousers and boxers round his ankles, arching away from his office chair, head thrown back, hips pumping and come shooting through his fingers.
Despite the rocking motion of the train, Harry felt Draco shift slightly against his thigh. He glanced down, and a slight smile played across his lips. “You look like you could use a hand with that.” His gaze flicked back up to Draco. “Take mine.”
Draco held Harry’s mischievous gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes and contemplated the closeness of Harry’s cupped hand to his erection. Before he could decide what to do, Harry’s hand was on the move. With Herculean effort, Draco bit back a groan when he felt Harry’s fingers slowly slide further up the inside of his thigh until the tips were gently pressed against his balls. Draco closed his eyes and swallowed. He was incredibly aroused after Harry’s confession. Just one silent rock from his hips would be all it would take to bring him sweet relief; Draco knew that Harry would understand and close those teasing fingers around the obvious bulge in his trousers.
“Go on,” Harry murmured, “I dare you to move.”
Draco froze. Determined not to give in so quickly, he steadied himself by squeezing his legs on either side of Harry’s right thigh and gripped the handrail with renewed vigour. He took a deep breath and raised his head to look Harry in the eyes. The deepening flush across Harry’s cheeks and darkening of his eyes told Draco that Harry was also aroused. Aroused and in control of the situation. Well, he’d soon change that. Not breaking eye contact with Harry he countered: “And I double dare you, Harry, to tell me right here, right now, what you fantasise about when you wank off in your little office.”
Oblivious to the other occupants of the carriage, Draco dipped his head and gently nuzzled the side of Harry’s neck with his lips. He let his warm breath ghost a trail up to Harry’s ear, then he enveloped it with his mouth, revelling in the shiver he felt run through the body pressed against him. Harry’s fingers moved, gently caressing Draco’s balls. His other hand stopped fisting Draco’s jacket and slid under it, gripping him around the waist. Draco’s lips moved against Harry’s ear. “Do you dare tell me, Harry, what you think about while you fuck your hand, until you come all over yourself?”
The train began to slow down forcing Draco forward, pressing his erection into Harry’s waiting palm. Moving his head back, Draco could see that mischief now sparkled in Harry’s eyes, and he slowly rubbed the heel of his palm up and down Draco’s hard prick as he murmured, “You have a filthy mouth, Malfoy."
"You love it," Draco replied, attempting a smirk.
"True. And I do dare, Draco, right here, right now, to tell you what I think about while I fuck my hand. Are you listening?”
Harry pressed his hand more firmly against Draco's erection. Draco’s eyes closed and he gasped, “Yesss,” as his hips rocked forward and backwards, working in opposition with Harry’s palm to continue and intensify that delicious pressure.
“The next station is Covent Garden. The next station is Covent Garden. Please stand clear of the doors. Please stand clear of the doors.”
The metallic drone of the intercom snapped Draco out of his lust-induced reverie as the train finally came to a halt, letting passengers off and on. Keeping their eyes fixed on each other, neither man moved, the stillness of their pose belying their state of arousal. The train suddenly jerked forward, and once again the momentum drew them together. Draco grabbed Harry’s right hip to steady himself, his groin seeking out Harry’s obliging hand once more in its quest for more stimulation.
Harry glanced around; no-one was looking their way. To his immediate right he was greeted by the back of the passenger next to him – affording them a modicum of privacy. He smiled to himself, before shifting his position slightly and renewed that much wanted pressure against Draco’s cock. The sights, sounds and smells of the compartment disappeared as Harry focused solely on retelling his fantasy in a way he hoped Draco would never forget. After all, he’d asked for it.
He focussed on Draco, took a deep breath and began. “Okay, in my fantasy I’ve started a new job,” Draco raised an eyebrow, “that’s why I’m on a train and…”
“Train?”
“Yes, train. I’m setting the scene if you don’t mind.”
“Sorry.”
“I have to catch it to work every morning. It’s very crowded, but each morning I sense someone’s eyes on me. Each morning I look through the crowd, until finally, one day, I see him for the first time: tall, impeccably dressed in a smart grey suit and overcoat, with shoulder-length silver blond hair and grey eyes. His eyes are fixed on me, boring into me in such a way that I can feel myself beginning to blush. I look away for a moment, and when I look back his eyes are still on me. The way he’s staring at me, like… like he's drinking me in, it makes me feel as though he’s undressing me and I’m standing there, naked, before him. And I realise that I… that I like it. It’s making me hard and I know, when we part at the station, that I’m hoping he’ll do the same the next day.
“Anyway, this carries on for several days. No words are spoken, just him slowly undressing me with his eyes. One morning he moves next to me as we get off the train. He catches my hand, smiles and whispers, “Tomorrow,” and then he’s gone.
The next morning, I stand in the rush hour crush, searching for him, anticipation hardening me. Suddenly he’s there, facing me and we’re pressed together in the crowd and I can feel him – he’s hard - against my hip. His eyes are incredible close up – storm grey and so intense, it’s like he can see right through me and I can’t stop looking at them. He smiles and… and then he touches me.”
“Touches you? Where? How?”
Harry pulled Draco closer to him so he could whisper in his ear: “That beautiful grey-eyed stranger touches me, teases me, just… like… this… Draco.”
Harry’s hand moved away from Draco’s crotch and gently slid down the inside of his right thigh. Draco’s fingers dug into Harry’s hip as he emitted a soft moan. Harry began to lightly caress Draco’s inner thigh, stroking gently with his finger tips, drawing ever larger circles until he almost, but not quite, grazed Draco’s balls again and again, feeling the muscles at the top of his thigh quiver. Draco’s breathing hitched and he leant forward, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder.
“Oh God,” he panted, as he tried to resist the urge to press forward and rut against Harry’s body.
“I stand there like some brazen whore and let him do it. I let him touch me. I try to move so he will touch more of me, my cock, but he shakes his head and whispers, “Not yet.”
“The next day I’m already hard before I get on the damn train. In the carriage I can’t see him anywhere and I’m really disappointed. Then, when I’m almost at the station, he rises out of a seat and pushes his way through the crowd until he’s standing before me. It feels like my whole body is covered in goose bumps as he looks me over, and I almost cry out when I feel his fingers touch the inside of my thigh, caressing it, before slowly sliding up and under my balls.”
In such a high state of arousal, Draco was finding it difficult to hold on to his self control. When he felt Harry’s fingers cup his balls through his trousers and begin to fondle them, Draco bit his bottom lip hard and whimpered; he didn’t want to come yet. Harry’s low voice continued to murmur in his ear, adding to the delicious torture.
“He touches them gently, never taking his eyes off me. We are pressed so tightly together that I can rub myself against his wrist - this total stranger, and again I can feel how hard he is. I’m completely unable to stop myself rutting against him, and I don’t want to. Finally the train pulls in and he draws back from me and disappears into the crowd, leaving me aching with want.
“I’m about to get on the train the day after, when a hands grips my arm and pulls me back. I know it’s him, he’s right behind me. I know his smell. My heart is pounding, but I’m determined not to act like a teenager with a crush and gawp at him. The platform empties and just when I’m beginning to wonder why he wants us to miss the train, he pushes me on. The carriage is crammed with commuters, so we stand by the door near the loo. Suddenly we’re in the loo and he’s pressed me right up against the door with his body. He gives me that look again, and he’s flushed and breathing heavily. I know he wants me as much as I want him.
“This time there are no preliminaries, no gentle teasing. His hand has found my zip, even though he’s not taken his eyes off me, and lowered it. I hold my breath, staring back at him, until I feel his fingers touch my cock, wrapping around it and drawing it out of my trousers. I stopped wearing underwear days ago, so it’s skin on skin. I close my eyes and let out a long groan. He speaks then, two words. “Touch me,” he says. His voice is husky, and I can’t get his zip down fast enough to feel his prick in my hand because my fingers are trembling so much. Finally, I do and it’s hard. Hot and hard for me, Draco. Just for me.
“He runs his fingers from the base to the top of my cock squeezing the tip firmly, the way I like it, then back down again. He does this several times, each squeeze a little harder than the last, and I echo his movements. It doesn’t matter that we’re in a cramped dirty toilet on some train because I’m in heaven, and I never want it to end. Then he wraps his hand around me, pumping faster and faster.”
It took several seconds for Draco to process that Harry had stopped talking. He frowned slightly and raised his head off Harry’s shoulder, just in time to register the wicked smirk that played across Harry’s lips, just before he felt Harry’s sweaty hand close around his cock now free from the confines of his trousers. Startled, Draco gripped Harry’s wrist and shook his head slightly.
“It’s okay.” Harry said, giving his cock a gentle squeeze, “No one is paying us any attention.” Draco laid his head back on Harry’s shoulder and moved his hand back to Harry’s hip. “He uses his hand, squeezing and pumping faster and faster, Draco. Just… like… this…” he murmured in Draco’s ear, as he echoed the actions of his fantasy and worked Draco’s cock. Draco’s knees buckled and he grabbed on to Harry’s shoulders for support.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” he gasped into Harry’s neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, hips driving forward against Harry’s right hand. Harry slid his other arm under Draco’s jacket and round his waist, drawing Draco closer to him. “Harry, I’m…” Draco’s words were drowned out by the horn of a passing train sounding through the carriage just before he came, silently shuddering against Harry’s body.
“The next station is King’s Cross, St Pancras. The next station is King’s Cross, St. Pancras. Please stand clear of the doors. Please stand clear of the doors.”
The movement of the slowing train was almost comforting as they swayed together in silence. Eventually Harry spoke. “Well, as warnings go,” he said, “that one was very effective.”
~*~
A/N Adam Cooper is an exceptionally talented dancer. If you want to know what Harry saw, click the link below to Adam's website.
http://www.adam-cooper.com/
Title: After The Ballet Is Over - The Director's Cut
Author:
lusiologyPairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 3475
Beta:
saladbats, mistakes in the additional material are my own. Summary: “And I double dare you, Harry, to tell me right here, right now, what you fantasise about while you wank off in your little office." He leaned closer and murmured, "While you fuck your hand.”
A/N: Originally written for
jamie2109 and nocturnali’s AWDT.Standing outside the front entrance of the Royal Opera House, slightly apart from the others, Draco declined Hermione’s suggestion of a post ballet supper at Sarastro, citing a headache and the need for air. He turned abruptly and began to stride through the noisy throng on Bow Street toward Long Acre, not looking to see if Harry was following. Harry’s smile evaporated at Draco’s sudden departure, the cause of Draco’s earlier anger so obviously not yet forgiven.
Harry's mind chose that exact moment to oh so unhelpfully supply him with crystal clear images of himself bursting into the sitting room, earlier that evening, naked as the day he was born, to surprise Draco. It was meant to be a joke, that after a tortuous day shopping with Draco for new clothes, his chosen suit for the evening would be his birthday suit. Heat suffused Harry’s face. Not only had he surprised Draco - no, surprised didn’t even begin to cover the expression on Draco’s face, shock was more like it – he’d also stunned the room full of unexpected guests, friends who’d been invited to see the new, improved, fashionable Harry.
He glanced at Hermione who was standing next to him, and then said, “He’s obviously still mad at me.” Harry shook his head and sighed as he watched Draco’s rapidly diminishing back. “It was only meant to be a bit of fun. Why can’t he see that? I’m the one who looked like a total prat in front of you all, not him.”
“Harry, you know Draco. He likes things to be ‘just so’. He wasn’t expecting you in your… birthday suit, none of us were. He’ll come round and see the funny side, you’ll see. Now go, before you lose sight of him.”
Harry caught up with Draco by All Saints, on Long Acre, and fell into step beside him, relieved to finally be away from the barely hidden smirks of his friends. The silence between them was in sharp contrast to the excited chattering of the crowds returning home from the theatres, or the revellers still seeking out pubs and clubs to while away a few more hours, until their beds beckoned them home. Harry occasionally glanced at Draco hoping to see some softening of those taut features, but Draco kept his eyes fixed firmly on the distance as he walked briskly along.
Leicester Square underground station was hectic. Harry took the lead, not wanting to lose Draco, threading his way through the mass of people, past the barriers and on to the long escalator that led down to the platforms. Harry always felt as though he was going on his very own journey to the centre of the earth when he travelled on the Underground. As they slowly descended he could feel Draco’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head. Suppressing the urge to turn and offer Draco yet another apology - the fifth this evening and just as likely to fall on deaf ears - Harry tried to think of a way to placate Draco before they got home. He didn’t want the memory of a wonderful evening to be ruined by a blazing row, all because of a stupid joke that would have worked if their friends hadn’t been present.
Harry stepped off the escalator and headed down the tiled passageway toward the westbound platform of the Piccadilly Line. Turning into the entrance he glanced at the wall and stopped dead, causing Draco to collide with his back.
“What the fuck, Harry?” Draco demanded as he stooped to retrieve the programme he’d dropped from the litter-strewn floor. “What have you stopped for?” Harry didn’t answer. He stood transfixed in front of a large black and white poster, totally oblivious to the crowd around him, including Draco.
Draco looked over Harry’s shoulder at the image in front of him and met the piercing stare of a semi-naked man. He prodded Harry in the back to get his attention. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Adam Cooper,” Harry answered breathlessly, still staring at the large poster on the wall.
“Who?”
Harry turned to face Draco, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Adam Cooper. He’s performing here in London, in July and August.” He looked back at the poster. “Isn’t he magnificent? I saw him on TV once, at the Dursely’s. He’s sex on legs Draco.” Harry gazed in contemplation for a moment longer before murmuring, “Oh yes, Sex. On. Legs.”
Draco frowned and looked again at the figure before him. He could definitely see the appeal, the handsome face, broad shoulders, well toned abdominal and pectoral muscles. He could also see the effect it was having on Harry and a spark of jealousy ignited inside him. He gripped Harry’s elbow possessively, ready to steer him through the crowd. “Come on,” he coaxed, his earlier mood forgotten, “or we’ll miss the train.”
Draco manoeuvred Harry into the corner by the opposite doors of the carriage. The compartment continued to fill, shrinking the space they were occupying until Harry was perched on a padded ledge, or ‘bum seat’ as it was known, sandwiched firmly between the wall of the carriage and Draco, his thighs either side of Draco’s right leg. Draco reached up and held on to the handrail with his right hand for support while Harry settled for holding on to the front of Draco's midnight blue, Paul Smith jacket. He looked up to find Draco staring intently at him. Harry swallowed; that specific look, as if Draco wanted to devour him, always made his knees go weak and his balls tingle. “Well, this is cosy,” he quipped and was relieved when Draco leant forward and murmured into his ear:
“One could almost describe it as intimate.”
Maybe the evening would end well after all.
The doors closed and the train began to pull out of the station. Lurching forward, Draco swayed against Harry, his body following the oscillating rhythm of the train as it began its high-speed dash to the next station. Harry seemed distracted, staring into space, so Draco leaned toward him and breathed in his ear: “Tell me more about this dancer you’re so captivated with, this Adam Cooper.”
Harry’s eyes snapped back to Draco and he held Draco’s gaze, looking relieved that the earlier tension between them had disappeared. Draco’s request had initially been a way of gaining Harry’s attention – something he liked to be the centre of, truth be told – but in the harsh bright light of the carriage there was no mistaking the blush that spread so delightfully across Harry’s cheeks.
Interesting.
Draco licked his lips and settled himself closer to Harry, waiting for his curiosity to be satisfied. Harry took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Draco knew that the reason for Harry’s deepening blush would not be forth coming without such a promise.
Keeping his face straight, Draco replied, “I promise.”
“I’ve been a secret admirer of his for years, ever since I saw him in an all male version of Swan Lake.” Harry’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “It was incredible, Draco. The way he moved, there was so much chemistry between him and the prince that I used him as my…” he paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed, the flush spread further across his face and down his neck.
“Your… what?” Draco asked, softly.
Harry looked away and worried his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe he was about to reveal something so private, so secret, here in this crowded public place. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought as he leaned closer to Draco and lowered his voice. “I used to fantasise about him when I wanked. You know…” Harry pulled on the front of Draco’s jacket so that he could whisper in his ear: “Before I started wanking to thoughts about you.”
Draco pulled back, his eyes wide. “Before me?” he said in a choked whisper. “You wanked to thoughts about me?”
Draco’s reaction gave Harry the confidence to reveal more. Once more he tightened his hold on the soft, velvet fabric and drew Draco down toward him. Slowly tipping his head, so that his lips brushed against Draco’s ear, he dropped what he knew would be a bombshell: “Still do sometimes, Draco, during the day at work.” Harry loosened his hold on Draco, and met his stunned expression with a smirk any Malfoy would’ve been proud of.
Draco was sure that it wasn't the way his cock repeatedly brushed against Harry’s thigh through his trousers, as the train surged through the tunnel that had made him hard. It was the mind melting image of Harry with his trousers and boxers round his ankles, arching away from his office chair, head thrown back, hips pumping and come shooting through his fingers.
Despite the rocking motion of the train, Harry felt Draco shift slightly against his thigh. He glanced down, and a slight smile played across his lips. “You look like you could use a hand with that.” His gaze flicked back up to Draco. “Take mine.”
Draco held Harry’s mischievous gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes and contemplated the closeness of Harry’s cupped hand to his erection. Before he could decide what to do, Harry’s hand was on the move. With Herculean effort, Draco bit back a groan when he felt Harry’s fingers slowly slide further up the inside of his thigh until the tips were gently pressed against his balls. Draco closed his eyes and swallowed. He was incredibly aroused after Harry’s confession. Just one silent rock from his hips would be all it would take to bring him sweet relief; Draco knew that Harry would understand and close those teasing fingers around the obvious bulge in his trousers.
“Go on,” Harry murmured, “I dare you to move.”
Draco froze. Determined not to give in so quickly, he steadied himself by squeezing his legs on either side of Harry’s right thigh and gripped the handrail with renewed vigour. He took a deep breath and raised his head to look Harry in the eyes. The deepening flush across Harry’s cheeks and darkening of his eyes told Draco that Harry was also aroused. Aroused and in control of the situation. Well, he’d soon change that. Not breaking eye contact with Harry he countered: “And I double dare you, Harry, to tell me right here, right now, what you fantasise about when you wank off in your little office.”
Oblivious to the other occupants of the carriage, Draco dipped his head and gently nuzzled the side of Harry’s neck with his lips. He let his warm breath ghost a trail up to Harry’s ear, then he enveloped it with his mouth, revelling in the shiver he felt run through the body pressed against him. Harry’s fingers moved, gently caressing Draco’s balls. His other hand stopped fisting Draco’s jacket and slid under it, gripping him around the waist. Draco’s lips moved against Harry’s ear. “Do you dare tell me, Harry, what you think about while you fuck your hand, until you come all over yourself?”
The train began to slow down forcing Draco forward, pressing his erection into Harry’s waiting palm. Moving his head back, Draco could see that mischief now sparkled in Harry’s eyes, and he slowly rubbed the heel of his palm up and down Draco’s hard prick as he murmured, “You have a filthy mouth, Malfoy."
"You love it," Draco replied, attempting a smirk.
"True. And I do dare, Draco, right here, right now, to tell you what I think about while I fuck my hand. Are you listening?”
Harry pressed his hand more firmly against Draco's erection. Draco’s eyes closed and he gasped, “Yesss,” as his hips rocked forward and backwards, working in opposition with Harry’s palm to continue and intensify that delicious pressure.
“The next station is Covent Garden. The next station is Covent Garden. Please stand clear of the doors. Please stand clear of the doors.”
The metallic drone of the intercom snapped Draco out of his lust-induced reverie as the train finally came to a halt, letting passengers off and on. Keeping their eyes fixed on each other, neither man moved, the stillness of their pose belying their state of arousal. The train suddenly jerked forward, and once again the momentum drew them together. Draco grabbed Harry’s right hip to steady himself, his groin seeking out Harry’s obliging hand once more in its quest for more stimulation.
Harry glanced around; no-one was looking their way. To his immediate right he was greeted by the back of the passenger next to him – affording them a modicum of privacy. He smiled to himself, before shifting his position slightly and renewed that much wanted pressure against Draco’s cock. The sights, sounds and smells of the compartment disappeared as Harry focused solely on retelling his fantasy in a way he hoped Draco would never forget. After all, he’d asked for it.
He focussed on Draco, took a deep breath and began. “Okay, in my fantasy I’ve started a new job,” Draco raised an eyebrow, “that’s why I’m on a train and…”
“Train?”
“Yes, train. I’m setting the scene if you don’t mind.”
“Sorry.”
“I have to catch it to work every morning. It’s very crowded, but each morning I sense someone’s eyes on me. Each morning I look through the crowd, until finally, one day, I see him for the first time: tall, impeccably dressed in a smart grey suit and overcoat, with shoulder-length silver blond hair and grey eyes. His eyes are fixed on me, boring into me in such a way that I can feel myself beginning to blush. I look away for a moment, and when I look back his eyes are still on me. The way he’s staring at me, like… like he's drinking me in, it makes me feel as though he’s undressing me and I’m standing there, naked, before him. And I realise that I… that I like it. It’s making me hard and I know, when we part at the station, that I’m hoping he’ll do the same the next day.
“Anyway, this carries on for several days. No words are spoken, just him slowly undressing me with his eyes. One morning he moves next to me as we get off the train. He catches my hand, smiles and whispers, “Tomorrow,” and then he’s gone.
The next morning, I stand in the rush hour crush, searching for him, anticipation hardening me. Suddenly he’s there, facing me and we’re pressed together in the crowd and I can feel him – he’s hard - against my hip. His eyes are incredible close up – storm grey and so intense, it’s like he can see right through me and I can’t stop looking at them. He smiles and… and then he touches me.”
“Touches you? Where? How?”
Harry pulled Draco closer to him so he could whisper in his ear: “That beautiful grey-eyed stranger touches me, teases me, just… like… this… Draco.”
Harry’s hand moved away from Draco’s crotch and gently slid down the inside of his right thigh. Draco’s fingers dug into Harry’s hip as he emitted a soft moan. Harry began to lightly caress Draco’s inner thigh, stroking gently with his finger tips, drawing ever larger circles until he almost, but not quite, grazed Draco’s balls again and again, feeling the muscles at the top of his thigh quiver. Draco’s breathing hitched and he leant forward, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder.
“Oh God,” he panted, as he tried to resist the urge to press forward and rut against Harry’s body.
“I stand there like some brazen whore and let him do it. I let him touch me. I try to move so he will touch more of me, my cock, but he shakes his head and whispers, “Not yet.”
“The next day I’m already hard before I get on the damn train. In the carriage I can’t see him anywhere and I’m really disappointed. Then, when I’m almost at the station, he rises out of a seat and pushes his way through the crowd until he’s standing before me. It feels like my whole body is covered in goose bumps as he looks me over, and I almost cry out when I feel his fingers touch the inside of my thigh, caressing it, before slowly sliding up and under my balls.”
In such a high state of arousal, Draco was finding it difficult to hold on to his self control. When he felt Harry’s fingers cup his balls through his trousers and begin to fondle them, Draco bit his bottom lip hard and whimpered; he didn’t want to come yet. Harry’s low voice continued to murmur in his ear, adding to the delicious torture.
“He touches them gently, never taking his eyes off me. We are pressed so tightly together that I can rub myself against his wrist - this total stranger, and again I can feel how hard he is. I’m completely unable to stop myself rutting against him, and I don’t want to. Finally the train pulls in and he draws back from me and disappears into the crowd, leaving me aching with want.
“I’m about to get on the train the day after, when a hands grips my arm and pulls me back. I know it’s him, he’s right behind me. I know his smell. My heart is pounding, but I’m determined not to act like a teenager with a crush and gawp at him. The platform empties and just when I’m beginning to wonder why he wants us to miss the train, he pushes me on. The carriage is crammed with commuters, so we stand by the door near the loo. Suddenly we’re in the loo and he’s pressed me right up against the door with his body. He gives me that look again, and he’s flushed and breathing heavily. I know he wants me as much as I want him.
“This time there are no preliminaries, no gentle teasing. His hand has found my zip, even though he’s not taken his eyes off me, and lowered it. I hold my breath, staring back at him, until I feel his fingers touch my cock, wrapping around it and drawing it out of my trousers. I stopped wearing underwear days ago, so it’s skin on skin. I close my eyes and let out a long groan. He speaks then, two words. “Touch me,” he says. His voice is husky, and I can’t get his zip down fast enough to feel his prick in my hand because my fingers are trembling so much. Finally, I do and it’s hard. Hot and hard for me, Draco. Just for me.
“He runs his fingers from the base to the top of my cock squeezing the tip firmly, the way I like it, then back down again. He does this several times, each squeeze a little harder than the last, and I echo his movements. It doesn’t matter that we’re in a cramped dirty toilet on some train because I’m in heaven, and I never want it to end. Then he wraps his hand around me, pumping faster and faster.”
It took several seconds for Draco to process that Harry had stopped talking. He frowned slightly and raised his head off Harry’s shoulder, just in time to register the wicked smirk that played across Harry’s lips, just before he felt Harry’s sweaty hand close around his cock now free from the confines of his trousers. Startled, Draco gripped Harry’s wrist and shook his head slightly.
“It’s okay.” Harry said, giving his cock a gentle squeeze, “No one is paying us any attention.” Draco laid his head back on Harry’s shoulder and moved his hand back to Harry’s hip. “He uses his hand, squeezing and pumping faster and faster, Draco. Just… like… this…” he murmured in Draco’s ear, as he echoed the actions of his fantasy and worked Draco’s cock. Draco’s knees buckled and he grabbed on to Harry’s shoulders for support.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” he gasped into Harry’s neck, fingers digging into his shoulders, hips driving forward against Harry’s right hand. Harry slid his other arm under Draco’s jacket and round his waist, drawing Draco closer to him. “Harry, I’m…” Draco’s words were drowned out by the horn of a passing train sounding through the carriage just before he came, silently shuddering against Harry’s body.
“The next station is King’s Cross, St Pancras. The next station is King’s Cross, St. Pancras. Please stand clear of the doors. Please stand clear of the doors.”
The movement of the slowing train was almost comforting as they swayed together in silence. Eventually Harry spoke. “Well, as warnings go,” he said, “that one was very effective.”
A/N Adam Cooper is an exceptionally talented dancer. If you want to know what Harry saw, click the link below to Adam's website.
http://www.adam-cooper.com/
