Undenied

“Most of all, remember our team motto.  Fight dirty.”

Draco glanced up.  The Slytherin captain, Sullivan Flint, was giving one of her rousing pre-game pep talks.  She was always a little extra vehement when they played Gryffindor.  He sighed, having heard it all before.

Bored, Draco glanced across the field at the Gryffindor team.  They were all huddled up except for Harry, who stood off to the side, holding his broom and staring right at Draco.  Draco stared back, brow furrowed in annoyance. 

Slowly, keeping his eyes locked with Draco’s, Harry brought his broom to his lips and ran the tip of his tongue up the wood.

Draco watched, lips parting in shock.  This had to be some sort of plot to distract him.  It wouldn’t work, he told himself.

Reluctantly, he turned back to the Slytherin team, barely listening as Sullivan went on about strategy.

“Malfoy!”  Sullivan demanded.  “Are you paying attention?”

Draco favored her with a glance.  “Catch the snitch.  Got it.”

Sullivan rolled her eyes.  “Fight dirty, people.  Let’s play.” 

The game began.

Draco attempted to catch Harry repeatedly, in order to ask him what exactly he had been playing at, but he was unsuccessful.  Harry invariably just moved to the opposite end of the field.  Eventually Draco gave up and hovered around the right side of the pitch, idly wishing that the snitch would just make his life easier and appear right in front of him.

He hadn’t expected it to actually do so.

The tiny gold ball suddenly appeared not three feet from where he hovered, paused briefly, and then zoomed away.  Draco set off after it, spurring his broom forward as fast as it would go. 

Harry, still on the other side of the field, didn’t have a chance.

It took only a few moments for Draco to catch up to the snitch and grab it, though it took twice as much time for him to actually process that he had it, that the snitch was in his hand and they had won, Slytherin had finally beaten Gryffindor.  He’d finally beaten Potter.

The next several minutes were a blur of cheers and elation.  Draco didn’t even remember the Potter incident until he was heading back to the castle after having showered and changed, and came face to face with Potter himself, leaning against the wall outside the locker room and staring at the sky.  Draco’s ire immediately kicked in.

“Good game, Malfoy,” Harry said amiably.

Draco glared at him.  “What the fuck was that, Potter?” he hissed. 

“Congratulations?” Harry asked.

“No.  You.  Before.  Pleasuring your broom.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Jealous?”

“What is this?  Some sort of game?”

“Perhaps.”

“Care to let me in on the rules, then?”

“Not particularly.”

Draco sighed, exasperated.  “What are you playing at, Potter?  What do you want from me?”

“Get on your knees,” Harry said slowly, “and I’ll show you.”

Draco’s eye widened.  “Fuck you,” he said venomously.

“Yes, that’s what I’m going for,” Harry said in that same infuriatingly slow tone.

“I should thrash you for this.”

Harry shrugged.  “Whatever you’re in to.”

Draco pushed Harry, who hit the wall with a solid thud.

“Rough,” Harry murmured.

“You like it.”  Draco said, lip curling in disgust.

Harry grabbed him by his shirtfront, pulling him forward.  “Don’t you?” he asked, quietly, his mouth inches from Draco’s.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked.  He had meant for his voice to sound harsh, but it came out as more of a hushed whisper.   He swallowed nervously.

Harry slid a hand inside Draco’s robes and unbuttoned his trousers.  “Reaching into your knickers.  What are you doing?”

Draco gasped, and willed his hips not to thrust forward.  “Um,” he started, but couldn’t think of anything to answer beyond “something very stupid.”

Harry smiled, and took his time pulling down Draco’s zipper and reaching in.  Commando.  Nice. 

Lightly, he ran a finger up Draco’s erection.  “Want me to stop?” he murmured.

“Um.”  Draco struggled to regain rational thought.  “Yes?”

Harry tightened his grip.  “Yes?” he said softly.

“Ahh.”  Draco’s eyes fluttered closed.  “I.  Um.  No.  I mean.  Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Harry asked patiently.

“Yes, I want.  You.”

“What do you want me to do?” His hand encircled Draco’s cock, slowly stroking up and down.

“Um.  That.”  Draco swallowed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Harry’s.  “Harder.”

“Like this?” Harry murmured, his breath quickening.  He stroked faster, tightening his grip.  His other hand grasped the back of Draco’s neck, pulling them closer still, until their lips were no more than a breath apart.

“Yeah.  That’s.”  Draco opened his eyes and looked hazily at Harry.  “It.”  He struggled for words.  “God.  Harry.”  With a moan, he closed the slight distance between them, his lips meeting the other boy’s.

Harry pulled Draco forward, their chests colliding.  He kissed Draco frantically, feverishly, as Draco ground against him, thrusting up into his hand.  Roughly, their lips met, tongues sliding together.  Draco pulled back as Harry’s fingertips discovered a sensitive spot, and then he began to kiss wherever he could reach.  Harry shuddered as Draco’s lips ghosted over his scar, down his forehead and to his neck, where he proceeded to suck on Harry’s collarbone.

When Draco came, he bit Harry’s neck hard enough to draw blood.

“Draco,” Harry gasped, hand automatically reaching up to examine the wound.  His fingers came away wet and red. 

“Sorry,” Draco whispered through alarmingly reddish lips, still trying desperately to regain his breath. 

“No, you’re not.”

“No,” Draco agreed, “I’m not.”  He was already busy unfastening Harry’s trousers.  With one last kiss to Harry’s bitten, swiftly bruising skin, he dropped to his knees.

Roughly, Draco jerked down Harry’s pants and reached for his cock.  “Tell me what you want, Harry,” he murmured, grinning sadistically.

“You fucking know what I want, Malfoy,” Harry muttered, glaring down at him. 

“Just checking,” Draco said sweetly, and took Harry’s cock into his mouth. 

A painful-sounding thump sounded above as Harry jerked back, banging his head against the wall.  “Draco,” he moaned.  

“Mmm,” Draco murmured. 

Harry couldn’t resist reaching a hand down to tug at Draco’s hair.  Draco ran his hands up Harry’s stomach, knuckles sliding over his hipbones and then tracing downward over the few exposed inches of Harry’s thighs.  Harry tasted like warmth and carnival glass.

Draco took him in as deep as he could, running his tongue along the underside, swirling over the tip.  A minute of this and Harry was starting to thrust slightly. 

A minute more and Draco found himself struggling, but determined to swallow it all. 

He stood and gently zipped Harry back up.  “You’re a screamer,” he said, smirking.  “I didn’t expect that.” He leaned forward and kissed Harry, hard.

“Me neither,” Harry said faintly.  He blinked.  “It’s dark.”

“That’s what happens when night falls,” Draco said archly.  “What’s the matter, Potter, afraid?”

“Hardly.”  Harry straightened his robes.  “I’m kind of hungry, though.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, holding back a grin.  “Fascinating.”

“You seemed pretty fascinated when you were on your knees in front of me,” Harry said, voice suddenly cold.

Draco stared.  “What?”

“Nice game, Malfoy.”  Harry smirked, then turned and began to walk away.

“Harry!” Draco said angrily.

Harry turned back slowly and, keeping his eyes focused on Draco, he brought his broom to his lips and ran his tongue up the length of it.  “You’re not the only one that fights dirty.”