In the quiet corners of an enchanting garden, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, a clandestine rendezvous unfolded between Draco and Harry. Their relationship, veiled in secrecy, danced on the delicate thread of an unspoken understanding.
As the night air hummed with the rustle of leaves and the distant serenade of crickets, Draco and Harry found themselves ensconced in the intimacy of their secret haven. Harry, with his ebony hair, cast shy glances in Draco's direction.
Draco, his eyes reflecting the moon's silver radiance, traced a finger along the delicate curve of Harry's hand. The air hung heavy with a shared sense of vulnerability, the moonlit garden offering solace to two souls entangled in the subtleties of an undisclosed connection.
"Are you alright, Harry?" James inquired his voice a gentle caress that stirred the quietude of the night.
Harry nodded, a blush tingeing his cheeks. "I... I just can't help but feel a bit shy, you know? It's not that I don't want to be here with you, it's just that..."
Draco smiled a tender reassurance that spoke volumes. "It's alright, Harry. There's no need to rush. We have all the time we need."
Harry's gaze met Draco's, and for a moment, the garden seemed to hold its breath—a symphony of fragrant blooms bearing witness to the unspoken connection that unfolded between the two.
As Draco reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Harry's ear, the warmth of his touch dispelled the lingering traces of shyness that draped around the other like a delicate veil. Their fingers intertwined, navigating the uncharted territories of a connection that thrived in secrecy.
"I like being here with you," Draco confessed, his gaze unwavering. "It's like our own little world, away from the chaos."
Harry, finding solace in Draco's words, mustered the courage to voice his feelings. "I feel the same way. It's just that... I've never been good at expressing myself. It's easier when it's just the two of us, away from prying eyes."
Draco nodded, understanding the intricacies of Harry's hesitance. "Our secret haven. It's ours, and no one else's."
Draco, his gaze warm and inviting, tilted his head slightly, prompting Harry to shift closer. The air was charged with anticipation as he gently cupped the other boy’s face in his hands, a silent invitation to bridge the distance between them.
Harry, his cheeks tinged with a rosy hue, couldn't shake the flutter of shyness that overcame him. He averted his gaze for a moment, his fingers nervously playing with the edge of his t-shirt.
"Harry," Draco whispered his voice a soothing melody in the night. "There's no need to be shy. We're here, just us."
With a soft exhale, Harry met Draco's eyes, and in that silent exchange, a world of unspoken emotions unfolded. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss—a stolen moment that resonated with the magic of secrecy.
The kiss held the sweetness of shared vulnerability, the garden becoming an intimate cocoon where time seemed to stand still. Draco, attuned to Harry's shyness, savored the delicate dance of their connection, making the moment linger like a well-kept secret.
Draco shares an intimate smile at that and bends his neck down to place gentle kisses against Harry's neck. He buries his nose against the curve of the man's shoulders and throat and tightens his hold. Draco's hand wanders on its own, fingers moving down the man's smaller waist and jutting out hip to the hem of the shirt. He moves the shirt up a little and sucks in a pleased breath as he feels that his shy Harry didn't have on boxers. The seemingly innocent and shy minx had planned this
Draco shifts Harry and he goes willingly, looking straight into Draco’s eyes. The boy beneath Draco wiggles his hips a little, a small sigh leaving his lips in a soft exhale of air, his mouth parted a little and his brow scrunched up a little.
Draco’s hands were one of the first things that Harry had noticed when they started their secret escapades. Big, with long knobby fingers, and rings adorning them, and Harry was glad that his earlier fantasies were proven true. Draco’s hands were warm and strong and sure in their movements when beginning to open Harry up. Draco had taken his time to warm up the lube between his fingers and massage Harry to relax the ring of muscles. By the time Draco inserted the first finger, Harry was a puddle of whimpery sounds, trying to squirm away and towards Draco’s hands at the same time.
Draco squeezed Harry’s ass, “God, you don’t know what this ass does to me” he mutters, “Watching you walk the halls, having no idea how much I want to touch”
“Dray—Draco,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath to no avail. “Draco. Please.”
Draco stopped his ministrations for a moment, and then started again, with an audible breath. “Good boy, fuck, such a good boy, begging so prettily,” he said, hand going from Harry’s back to his nape, thumbing his jaw roughly.
He whined when the fingers inside him disappeared all of a sudden, and he was left to his own devices. “What—” he said, and Draco made a shushing noise.
He was over Harry a moment later, his body like a blanket, warm and big. The tattoos on his torso were bright in the heat of the moment, “Give me a—” he said, and Harry felt the blunt head of his cock pushing slowly. “See, you’re all relaxed and stretched out now,” he sounded satisfied.
“Please,” Harry said, hiccoughed, arching against Draco’s cock, enjoying the way Harry’s hips stuttered at that, making him bottom out sooner. “Fuck, please, fuck me, please, Draco, please, fuck,” he was babbling, and he didn’t even care. Draco’s cock was big, and Harry felt full, let his head loll, breath labored.
Draco stayed there, immobile, forehead against Harry’s nape, breath humid against his skin. “Give me a minute, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough. “I need it if I wanna last.”
Harry let out a high keen. Something that in any other moment would never leave his mouth. Draco was inside him and surrounding him, body over his, hands over his hands, he couldn’t even touch his dick, he could just wiggle desperately, clenching around Draco’s cock in an attempt to make him move. “Fuck me, fuck me, please, fuck me, please,” he kept repeating, like a prayer.
Draco bit him on his neck, hard, not knowing what was coming over him. “Greedy slut,” he said between his teeth. “I try to be gentle with you, but it doesn’t work, innit. You only behave when you're not given another choice.”
He started fucking Harry in earnest at that, cock big and overwhelming, bottoming out at every thrust, hands heavy on Harry’s wrists, so small in his hands, pushing them into the mattress, and it hurt a bit, everything hurt a bit, being forced not to move hurt a bit, his neck hurt a bit, and the spike of pain was bringing Harry almost on the brink of losing his mind, as it sharpened the electric currents of pleasure coursing through his body. His mouth was opening, and sounds were coming out, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just laid there, being made to take it, impotent and used and safe.
“You’re so fucking good, such a good slut,” Draco was panting on Harry’s shoulder, pushing him to lie flat against the ground of the secret haven they were in, to spread his legs open, his dick rubbing against the soft grass with each thrust. “Made for my cock, you are, fuck, such a perfect slut.”
Harry’s breath and voice were punched out of him with each thrust, coming out in little ‘ uh, uh, uh ’s. Draco seemed to know exactly where to hit, his cock hitting the other’s prostate head-on. His body was traversed by tiny shock currents, sensations becoming too much, his wrists being blocked, his dick against the other front, the stretch from Draco’s huge cock, his prostate being stimulated, his body being prevented from moving, and the pain, pleasure, pain of it all, of Draco’s mouth biting and licking his neck and shoulders and—
Harry, he couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he came with a shout against Draco's shoulder, making a mess of them and his dick and tightening his muscles around Draco’s cock, and in the haze of the orgasm, felt Draco’s teeth against his shoulder, feeling like a claim, Draco’s thrusts becoming more erratic.
“Good boy, good slut, such a good slut for me,” Draco babbled, losing control, pushing and pushing and pushing while Harry lay there, spent and oversensitive, trying to catch his breath. Draco came a few seconds later, teeth in Harry’s shoulder, stilling in his arse.
Harry’s face still buried in Draco’s nack couldn’t help but take in his dark rich tobacco scent that was just purely Draco. The blonde continued to rub Harry’s sides letting him take his time as he came down from his incredible high.
Harry started feeling drowsy after a while, lulled by the repetitive motion of Draco’s hands and the low, praising words Draco was speaking to him, and he allowed himself to close his eyes for seconds or maybe minutes before the cold, wet, sticky feeling became too much, and he reluctantly came up from Draco’s neck, and saw him smiling fondly.
“I’m sticky,” Harry said.
Draco let out a honk of a laugh, immediately putting a hand over his face. “I’d say.” He tried to school his expression into a more serious one, but the mirth was still shining in his eyes. “Shower?”
“Please,” Harry said, holding onto Draco as they both stood to aparate back to the eighth-year dorms.
Both, in the darkness of the night wrapped in each other's arms, couldn’t help but thank the stars that they had finally found each other, and to find love in one another.