The Morning After

The Morning After

Hesitatingly, Draco opened his right eye.

Argh... allowing light to establish contact with his pupil didn't seem to be the best of ideas. But - why? And why did his head feel as if it were filled with cotton-wool? And his tongue like clay, as he came to think of it.

Something tickled his nose, and he sneezed.

Oh, god! What the hell was going on in his head? Nasty little dwarfs mining for gold, or what? Besides, was this a weight on his left leg? A warm weig-

With a jolt he realized the cause: a second body was lying under the sheets, tightly cuddled up to him, and the tickle he had felt was thanks to a mop of dark hair.

A head was resting firmly on his shoulder.

Hmmm...

Although somewhere inside his mind the thoughts of "how" and "what" were struggling to shift towards the surface, the first and overall impression was one of astonishing pleasure. He had never before woken up with anyone lying at his side. His - few, but he would never admit to this in public! - experiences with the, ugh, other sex had been limited to groping and snogging in dark corners, quick kisses; the rest had been, well, up to himself. His right hand, to be precise.

So far, obviously.

If only he could remember...

He closed his eyes again, allowing himself to linger in warmth and comfort, taking in the sense of security which the calm, deep breaths, the heat of this second body provided.

Weird. He'd never considered himself the romantic, cuddling type. Live and learn.

Dark hair.

He sighed heavily - ouch! - and exhaled slowly and carefully, in order not to move his head and thus give the little creatures inside reason to resume their activities, and then glanced at the black locks curling around his nose. He inhaled the unknown yet strangely familiar scent - oh, this was truly something he could get used to...

So Pansy had finally had her way,. Not that he held any real objections; only that she had been a little bit too eager for his taste, had left no initiative to him - hunting man and all that went with it, he presumed.

If only he could remember!

Soft lips, barely touching his own... deft, strong fingers caressing his back... a hot, pulsing mouth demanding his, wandering deeper, down his jaw, throat, chest...

Oh, yes! Sparks of memory fluttered through his still rather unwilling brain.

Yesterday evening, Pansy had talked him into... no, to do her justice, they had agreed in paying the new pub in Hogsmeade a visit. She'd insisted that he "needed to be distracted", that someone had to prevent him "from brooding", and, being familiar with the amount of stubbornness Pansy was able to muster if the cause called for it, he'd given in. Ah, now he recalled the splendid firewhisky served there, the sensation it had triggered in his mouth, his stomach, the burning, intense warmth! And there had been an endless supply, obviously...

Teeth nibbling at his earlobe, sending shivers down his spine, a pink tongue teasing his own, brushing along his lips and invading his mouth, plunging deep into it... and later on, this tongue, these teeth were doing incredible things to his nipples...

Yes, he most definitely could get used to this! Had he only known earlier that Pansy had talents like these, he wouldn't have wasted one second on considering the man-must-hunt-crap.

She'd made him... well, feel again... maybe she'd been right about him, that he had been isolating himself from his friends... pondering over his father, his family... he hadn't really felt up to anything lately.

Despite the effort it took - and the pain it caused, by the way -, he lifted his left hand to caress his bedmate's neck, where soft, still slightly moist tendrils were meeting pale skin.

Was he only imagining this, or had the breathing just quickened a little bit - and what kind of sound was this? A purr?

His fingers wandered up the back of the head, gently stroking the sensitive spot behind one ear.

Oh, most definitely a purr! Draco grinned, pressing his body closer. God... obviously he wasn't this dazed any longer, at least some crucial parts of his body weren't... He nuzzled the black mop of hair with his chin, wanting to cause the head to move - which would allow him access to the wonderful, soft, hot mouth he remembered in more and more detail.

There - a little tilt of the head, and -

AAAARRRGGGHH!!

Draco bolted upright.

This very second, the mining company resumed full work, introducing new means of production - pneumatic hammers, blastings, oh, and a brass band. Red circles dancing in front of his eyes, Draco slowly, slowly lay down again; and for quite some time, he was busy concentrating on not moving, trying to breathe deeply, regularly.

No, no, no, no! Please, let it be the perverted illusion of a still drunk and totally hormonally disturbed...

He glanced at the person next to him.

Nope, it was still him. Fast asleep, even snoring a little bit...

That really was the limit! As if it weren't enough that Potter - Potter... POTTER! - was... was, well, desecrating his bed; the fucking idiot didn't even have the decency to wake up and sod off!!

Forcing the miners still rumbling in his head to sit down, he tried to put the fragments of memory together. The pub, drinking... oh, yes, Wonder Boy and his redheaded Wants In His Pants had entered... sneers, drinking, sneers, insults, more drinking, insults. Whisky. Pansy pouting. Pouting? Why? Drinking. Potter, whisky, insults, closer, closer...

Now, wait - what was this stupid, worthless creature doing? Still asleep, Potter had moved closer again, resting his cheek on Draco's shoulder.

Draco felt a stab of panic surge through him.

Think, think, think...There had to be some memories of what precisely had happened. Somewhere.

Waves of white-hot pleasure... a deep, hoarse voice, whispering his name... whimpers, cries... he'd been so awkward, so afraid of making a mistake, embarrassing himself, of hurting and being hurt... and yet so eager to experience, to feel... and he had felt, sobbed, moaned, cried...

Shit. Definitely the wrong memory to dwell on. It had NOT been pleasant. Never, not for a single second. No way. Nope. But - what was he doing? Lying here with... with... eurgh... why wasn't he simply throwing this... this creature out of his bed?

Before he could come up with an idea about how to get rid of him (a method which would include a minimum of movement and thus guarantee a limit to pain), Potter stirred. Opened one eye. Lifted his head.

With no small amount of pleasure Draco watched the show: Potter jolting, squeezing his eyes shut in pain, mouthing a silent groan, pressing his fingertips to his temples.

"M-Malfoy?? Oh, god!"

I know, I know. Now sod off. Draco would've rolled his eyes hadn't he feared that this might cause irreparable damage to his brain. Further damage. If there was anything left to harm.

"No. I've. It's. You. God. I'mgonnabesick. Havetoleave. Oh. This. Is. Disgusting."

"Leave? For sure the best... no, most likely the only good idea you ever had, Potter, and-"

What?!

What had this little shit just said? Disgusting? Dis. Gus. Ting? This- this joke to wizardkind had the nerve, the audacity to look at him - him, Draco Malfoy, the Personification of Ultimate Desire - and all that his admittedly limited mind could come up with was disgusting?

He glared at the other boy. "And you're Everyone's Wet Dream, what? Rumour has it differently, though!"

Potter batted his eyelashes in surprise. Slowly - Draco could almost watch it - the insult reached his brain, causing him to grit his teeth. For a second, he even seemed to lose his temper, but of course, Gryffindor's Heros were bred to have a firm grip on their emotions - at least when not intoxicated, Draco thought, grinning inwardly.

Trying to kick-start his brain into thinking mode, Draco weighed the options. However embarrassing the situation might be for Potter, the same would be true for him were it ever made public.

Yet, who said it would be... he was not going to...

In the meantime, Potter seemed to have come to a decision. "Okay, Malfoy, this is, ugh, ridiculous. Best way to handle it I'd say we just pre-tend it n-never happen- wwhat are y-ou d-doing?"

Draco grinned slyly, shoving his thigh even closer. "What, getting distracted, Potter?"

"M-Mal-f-foy..."

"Hmmm... yes, Potter?" he whispered, breathing into Potter's ear and sensing him shiver in response.

Disgusting? Ha!

"Will you stop this, you fucking id-" Potter stopped mid-word, obviously shocked by the nasty expression he'd just uttered - the use of which was punished among Gryffindors by rinsing out one's mouth with soap, for sure. Yet, he didn't move.

Stupid Gryffindors. Stupid Potter. Why wasn't the git leaving?

Okay, maybe because he was enjoying the sensation of Draco snuggling up against him? Although Draco could perfectly understand this, he was torn between the triumph of having successfully demonstrated that he wasn't that repulsive (irresistible, that sounded more like it) and the wish of seeing Potter's arse -, ugh, his back - back! - umh, seeing him leave the room, that's what he meant.

Draco nibbled absentmindedly at his lower lip, only to find Potter's eyes merely an inch away from his own when he looked up again.

Beautiful, gorgeous eyes, really.

No, he hadn't just thought that. Hadn't.

"Your eyelashes are golden at their roots..." Potter whispered.

For the second time in his life, Draco Malfoy lacked a proper answer, was reduced to a rather pathetic "W-what?" Maybe he was also distracted a little bit by the pulsing sensation he was feeling, erm, down there... Another way to put it, his cock was throbbing violently, demanding his attention. As if!

"Yes. And you freckle, here-"

Mesmerised, Draco felt Potter's fingertip on the bridge of his nose.

Stupid butterflies had begun to flutter in his stomach; uninvited and most unwelcome! Where had they come from? And why?

"...and here, too..." Potter's finger ghosted across Draco's lower lip, leaving it tingling, prickling in the wake of this gentle caress.

Draco couldn't tell how or why, but suddenly, Golden Boy's finger was inside his mouth, and he was tasting it, licking it, sucking...

Oh god, was he really getting a hard-on just from sucking Harry Bloody Potter's finger?

Obviously, he was.

Bugger.

Nevertheless, he wouldn't stop, if only for the mere sight of Potter, eyes half closed, head jerked back, whimpering. And Draco decided that he would not, not lose control so easily - and early - as the previous night. Not in the next two minutes, at least... hopefully...

Potter wiggled.

Hmm... mmh. Just out of curiosity, he pressed his hip against Potter's groin. So, Perfect Boy was showing the same, ah, bodily reaction only from having his finger sucked...

Very interesting. Maybe he could... use... ooohhh... this ag-... oh my god... against... uh... Ha-

It was certainly worth further exploration.

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