Drabbles

Draco had a temper. 

He’d been given it, partly through nature but mostly through nurture, by his godforsaken father. When things didn’t go to plan or disappointments stacked themselves meters high, Draco could do nothing but stalk to the Quidditch pitch and try to work his rage out.

Usually it worked. But sometimes it only exacerbated things, the surge of adrenaline mixing dangerously with all the other chemicals swirling heatedly through him until he was absolutely fuming. 

Today was one of those days.

Another rush of pure fury shot through him as he hovered above the pitch. He wanted to scream, or punch something, or fucking destroy something. He tightened his hand around the broom handle as hard as he could, feeling the rush of pleasure the squeeze sent through his body, goosebumps erupting all over him with a shudder of delight.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to choke someone. 

He landed and dismounted before the broom came to a full stop, swinging it up over his shoulder as he strode across the pitch with renewed purpose. He sent his broom to the lockers as he passed them. 

His blood was raging, breath shallow and heavy, and he knew Theo registered the state he was in as soon as he looked up from across the common room. Draco did nothing but tighten his jaw and Theo was up, book cast aside with an irreverence that sent a fresh coil of anger through Draco.

The book thumped once on the cushion before falling to the floor and Draco couldn’t help the roughness of his hand around Theo’s bicep when the other man reached him.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he grit out. It was stupid to care but there was something about watching an item be damaged which always made him irate.

Theo looked unapologetic, which only stoked the fire more, so Draco tugged him from the room, not caring a whit about the spectacle he was making. He strong-armed Theo back down the hallway to a storeroom he knew would be empty, shoving him inside and locking the door.

“What’s got you all fired up?” Theo asked mildly, playing right into Draco’s hand. Theo knew exactly how to provoke him.

“Shut up.” Draco crowded him back against the workbench shoved under a row of shelves. “Salvus."  

It was a shorthand they’d adopted when they’d first started using one another’s bodies for their rage or lust or despair. Salvus: a promise to safeguard against risk. 

Theo answered without hesitation.

“Securus.” A confirmation of security.

“Good. Because it’s gonna be a rough one.” Draco shoved Theo again and Theo fell back against the edge of the table, catching himself with a hand behind him. He moaned, once, like he couldn’t fucking wait for Draco to destroy him, and it made Draco wild. 

He pushed him again, harder, until Theo had no choice but to lie back. He was tall enough that his head reached the other side, exactly as Draco had intended.

“Gonna fuck me?” Theo mumbled and Draco almost changed his plans, his cock jerking in his trousers at the memory of the last time. Except that…no. He needed this. He needed something aggressive and violent and utterly, utterly selfish.

“Of a sort.” He walked around the table to where Theo’s head was almost hanging off the edge. Theo’s eyes trailed his movement and when Draco began undoing his belt, Theo groaned again.

“God, you’re such a slut,” Draco scolded him, hands almost shaky with his urgency to get his cock out. “Gonna fucking treat you like one.”

He shoved his trousers and briefs down then fisted himself, squeezing hard like he had around the broomstick. It fucking hurt and his balls pulled up tight because of it, the pleasure unreal. 

But he didn’t want to hurt himself – not physically, anyway – so he inhaled with as much control as he could and stepped forward, getting a good handful of Theo’s hair and yanking him a few inches closer. Theo moaned, surprised and aroused, at the rough handling and let himself be maneuvered until his head was half off the table. He licked his lips, still staring at Draco from his upside down position. Draco slapped his cheek with as much restraint as he could manage but even so, Theo startled, the skin turning pink.

“Open.” 

Theo did, sticking his tongue out and extending his neck long, tempting Draco with his throat. But Draco had long given up resisting temptation when it came to Theo, so he just laughed, a derisive sound, and shoved his cock in. Theo moaned and then gagged when Draco didn’t stop, not until his balls were resting on Theo’s nose. He held himself there for a moment, breathing heavily and observing the way Theo’s hand had half risen in an instinctive signal for a pause but then curled into a fist instead of giving it. He knew Theo liked to suffer - the nurturing gift from his father - so Draco took another labored breath before pulling back. Theo coughed and gasped for air, eyes shining with tears. 

“Salvus?” The word was curt, but vital.

“Securus. Fuck, securus.” Theo’s voice was wrecked and the sound made Draco flush with heat. 

“Hold onto something,” he warned, and then slicked his cock over Theo’s lips and pushed back inside.

Theo gripped the edge of the table with one hand and raised the other to curl around the back of Draco’s thigh, holding him there. He swallowed once, thickly, around Draco’s cock and then went lax. Draco grunted and let himself go, setting a fast pace that had pleasure sluicing through him, mixing with the anger and frustration still hot in his veins. He could see Theo fighting for breath, his chest moving in shallow, rapid pants and his knuckles turning white against the mahogany of the table. It made the beast inside Draco purr with violent delight, the rush of power filling the needy place inside him that was never good enough.

The thought enraged him anew and he didn’t even realize he’d moved his hand until he felt the panicked bob of Theo’s swallow under his palm.

“Oh fuck.” His orgasm surged, balls cinching up as the pressure built, that little shimmer of fear utterly addicting.

He slid his palm up to just under Theo’s jaw, feeling the way his throat bulged as Draco pushed deep. He kept his hand there, watching and feeling himself fucking Theo. It was swiftly becoming too much, so he supported himself with his hand on the table beside Theo’s side, leaning forward and working his hips properly, treating Theo’s mouth like he had his arse or a lucky witch’s cunt. 

“I can’t believe you let me do this to you,” Draco grit out, tone disparaging. “I mean, fucking look at you. You’re not even getting…getting anything out of this and yet…there you are…fucking taking it…you’re so fucking desperate for attention…you’ll…you’ll…” 

His orgasm was right there, tightening everything and making his eyes roll. Theo slid his hand up Draco’s thigh to squeeze his arse, pressing him even deeper and Draco went wobbly-kneed.

“Oh, fuck you." He snarled and then was gasping. "Fuck. I’m c-coming.” 

He held himself deep as his cock pulsed down Theo’s throat, the pleasure searing and cleansing, tearing from him both his tension and his rage. He panted, bereft, and slid his cock free. Theo was red faced, saliva and come streaking from the edges of his mouth and dropping to the stone floor. He blinked his eyes open, his lashes dark and stuck together with tears, the blue irises striking against the little fissures of red that Draco’s rough handling had called forth.

“Salvus,” he croaked, throat abused and sore but his expression focused on Draco, calm and unafraid.

Draco scrubbed his hands down his face, sniffing once, then nodded. 

“Securus.”