**A/N: I would like to reiterate and clarify that this is NOT a romance fic, not at first at least. The following chapter includes some serious rough sexual scenes—as will most of this story—since the boys initially use sex as a coping mechanism for their frustration. As unnecessary as this warning will appear to most of you, I have had some strange comments in the past where readers were "not expecting porn in my story", despite the fact that the tags were clearly labelled. So, bWARNING:/b rough sexual themes ahead! Please read through the tags THOROUGHLY if you have not done so already. Every theme mentioned is used during these scenes. For those not interested in Rough Sexual Themes, I will announce the beginning and end of said scenes so you can skip them Xx**

"You bought me clothes?"

Harry stared at the multiple parcels with a mix of dread and surprise. When Malfoy had said he was coming over for lunch Harry had not expected the Slytherin to be coming with clothing meant for him.

"Don't act so surprised, Potter, your current wardrobe is atrocious," Malfoy replied snidely. "It's high time you had clothing of your ow—" he cleared his throat, "clothing that actually suits you."

Harry found himself frowning at Malfoy's slip of the tongue but decided to ignore it. "And what's so wrong with my clothes now?" he asked haughtily. He ran his hands subconsciously over the current oversized plaid shirt he was wearing. Despite it being one of Dudley's, it was one of the few items of clothing Harry had that he actually didn't mind but had been unable to wear when his arm had been in a sling. Since his arm was gloved and currently feeling good, Harry hadn't hesitated to bust the old boy out.

"What's wrong with them?" Malfoy almost choked the words out. "You mean aside from them being out-of-date, gargantuan, ratty, and worn?"

"Jeez, Malfoy, save some insults for dinner."

"Come on, Potter, just let me do something nice for a change. Don't be so difficult."

"Me being difficult?"

"At least try some on."

"Malfoy, I really don't feel comfortable with you—"

"Consider it a belated birthday present if you're that putout."

"But—"

"Mother will be so disheartened to know her kindness has also been rebuffed…"

"Ugh! Fine! Show me what you got."

A satisfied smile curled at Malfoy's lips as he directed Harry to sit on his own bed. Malfoy went to the various packages piled on the end, pulling the string of one with delighted relish. At once, a bundled heap of emerald green material tumbled from within the brown wrappings. Harry eyed it, feeling trepidation unfurling within his stomach.

"You didn't buy me a bunch of dress robes did you?" he asked worriedly, still standing uncertainly by his bedside, "you know I don't wear—"

"Sweet Merlin, Potter! Give me some credit for fucks sake." Draco pointed to the bed. "Now sit down and shut up."

The emerald green material turned out to be a silken, long sleeve shirt with black buttons running down the middle. Malfoy held up the garment, staring at Harry expectedly.

"Er—um, nice?" Harry replied awkwardly.

"Merlin help me," Draco muttered. "You've no fashion sense at all, do you, Potter?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, eyes tracking over the shirt. "Well—I can see that it's green."

"Five fucking points to Gryffindor!" Malfoy laid the shirt aside, shaking his head in disbelief. He reached for the same package where another article of clothing lay folded neatly. It turned out to be a pair of black jeans, which Harry found himself actually liking the look of.

"Huh, they're not bad," he offered. "They look comfortable."

"These, Potter, are professionally styled. Comfortable? Yes. Anything like the abysmal pair you're currently wearing? No."

Harry scowled, hands running unconsciously over the denim currently covering his thighs. "Don't be such a prat, Malfoy."

"Here." Ignoring the jibe, the blond thrust the jeans into Harry's face. "Put these on. I want to see if they fit."

Harry snatched them with a grumble, placing them on the bed beside him before standing up to remove his old jeans. Malfoy busied himself with the other parcels as he did, loosening the knots on three others and sorting the new clothing into piles.

"Well?"

Even the turn Potter did screamed sarcasm. But that was the least of Draco's concerns. His gaze was heated as it swept up and down, admiring the way the denim clung to Potter in all the right places. Potter may have lost weight since he'd seen him at the end of the school year but Draco still had to admit that the young male was still a mouth-watering abundance of quidditch muscle, broad shoulders, and fiery stubbornness to match his own.

Who looked fucking marvellous in the black jeans Draco had chosen for him.

And made him want to revisit certain aspects of Potter's birthday and more so.

Draco had been fixating on the memories of that evening ever since. As intoxicated as the two of them had been, there had already been an underlying burning sense of desire that had made it oh so easy to crawl into Potter's lap that night. Ever since, Draco had been craving more, and he was becoming quite tired of waiting. Satisfaction from the knowledge that Potter wanted something casual the same as him had been thrumming in Draco's veins ever since the Golden Boy voiced it. Draco's blood was simply boiling for a casual fuck. And from the way he had caught Potter staring at him on multiple occurrences, he knew that he was not the only one.

The rest of the morning was spent with Harry trying on various items of clothing, Malfoy directing him with what colours were best suited with each. Malfoy, to his credit, has ensured to get Harry manageable shades, with plenty of black and blue jeans that could be interchangeable with the various shirts. Harry obliged, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the gesture, even if Malfoy was making it the most painful experience.

"And do me a favour, Potter, choose yourself some clothes from this, alright?" Malfoy tossed what appeared to be an owl-order magazine onto his duvet. "Some new shoes especially," he added, with a derisive glance at Harry's sneakers. "You're allowed to be selfish once in a while. I've even done you a kindness and highlighted a few potential purchases to get the ball rolling."

It was odd, Harry thought, how well Malfoy could read him at times. Growing up with the Dursleys had stripped Harry from every decision he had ever been given. Even when he had received his letter to Hogwarts there had been nothing for him to choose—he had simply gone down the path expected of him, regardless of whether Harry wanted to or not. So now, even something as small as purchasing his own clothes was completely foreign to him. He had had seven financially-free years from the Dursleys and the thought of buying things for himself that weren't specifically required for school still hadn't occurred to him.

One step at a time… he thought, attempting to reassure the flare of anxiety that had bubbled into existence at the mere thought of choosing something from a magazine. It's just clothes… no one is going to deride you for choosing a shirt… well… except for maybe Malfoy…

Harry cleared his throat. "I—er, thanks, Malfoy, for all of this," he said, glancing at the clothes folded neatly. "I'm grateful for the effort you went to but I, well, why are you doing this?"

Malfoy paused mid-fold of a dark pair of blue jeans. He looked over at Harry, grey eyes oddly calm as they surveyed him.

"Mother was particularly adamant," he replied, finishing the preparation of the pants and adding them to one of the piles. "She has a bit of a soft spot for you it would seem. I joined her because in all honesty, I have been a right prat over the years and thought this might be a nice gesture." He straightened up and turned, facing Harry with what appeared to be an air of controlled calm, even if he did fold his arms in a somewhat defensive manner. "We're attempting this friendship thing, correct? Give or take some sexual endeavours on the side." The Malfoy smirk was back and Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes, his own smile appearing on his face. "This is just a simple gesture of good will, nothing more, nothing less."

"Definitely not trying to court me or anything?" Harry asked.

"Change genders and produce me an heir and then we'll talk, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Alright, good. Thanks, Malfoy."

"Straight couples are a tad strange though, aren't they?" Malfoy continued, returning his attention once more to the clothes. "Relying on gift-giving to ensure the other one is aware that they are being pursued."

"Not just straight couples," Harry said in reply. "Seamus and Dean are constantly throwing gifts at one another and they've been together for two years. The last time they fought, Seamus came back with a bunch of roses which had been spelled into the colours of Dean's favourite football team. The reason for their fight? Seamus said Dean had put too much jam on his toast."

"Gryffindors, honestly," Draco remarked, shaking his head. "A bunch of kittens the lot of you."

"Ooft."

Harry's back slammed none-too-gently into the wall. The dummy he had been attempting to disarm lay in a pile of smouldering ash and Harry, who had flown a good fifteen feet across the room from the backlash, was grimacing at the pain lacing up and down his spine.

"It would seem we will need to begin smaller," Severus commented. The older man crossed the room, offered Harry a hand up. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," Harry replied as he got to his feet, "just a little winded."

Severus's dark eyes ran themselves up and down the young man before him, checking for himself if his ward was indeed alright. Satisfied with his observation, Severus nodded.

They had started practising wandless magic today. Harry had spent the past few days going over the reading material Severus had given him, writing notes and trying desperately to understand the methods. Each night at dinner he and Severus discussed the topics involved, planning their approach to the lessons. With the return to Hogwarts looming ever closer, Harry had to be sure he was at least safe. There was no way he could return if he posed any sort of threat to the other students. And, at the very least, Harry had to be able to defend himself.

There was no knowing the allegiance of each student attending Hogwarts after all.

"Do you wish to continue?" Severus asked, still watching Harry carefully as the young man walked back across the room.

"Yeah let's try a bit more," Harry replied, turning to face a new wooden foe. "Considering what happened when I tried Expelliarmus last, what should I try now? What would be considered a—er—delicate spell?"

Snape tapped the end of a long finger against his lips as he considered Harry's question. "Try a Rictusempra. Non-verbal."

Harry sucked in a calming breath, eyeing the immobile figure with slightly apprehension. Calm down… you know the spells are worse when you're panicking…

Another steadying breath.

Harry lifted his right hand, the spell barely a conceived thought in his head, when the dummy suddenly shot back across the room, whirling like a frantic spinning top. It splintered into large chunky pieces when it struck the far wall, the resounding crack making Harry wince.

He turned awkwardly to the Professor.

"I believe that is enough for today," Severus instructed with barely hidden amusement. He banishing the few remaining dummies he had summoned at the beginning of the lesson and cleaned the mess of Harry's latest victim with a casual flick of his wand.

Harry found himself nodding in agreement. His right arm was starting to ache uncomfortably, and it was on an unconscious impulse that he found himself reaching for his sling which was lying on a benchtop nearby. As he strapped his arm back into a comfortable and secure position, he turned to Snape to ask the question that had been on his mind for a few days now.

"Why is it that my arm still gets sore, Severus?"

"Because it is regaining it's strength, Harry," Severus replied. "Think of your arm and magic as one muscle," he explained, "your physical arm been at rest for many weeks now and it will require restrengthening as you begin using it again, just like any injury you acquire that cannot be healed immediately. Many muggles require rehabilitation for their injuries for many weeks to give them back the strength they once had. It will also take time for your arm to become adjusted as being the core caster of your magic, since it has now taken on the role of your wand. In a more positive light, however, you have already progressed further than I had expected—you can direct magic through your arm. Now, we must concentrate our efforts on regaining your control. The more you practice, the easier it will become and the less painful and tired your arm will be."

Harry felt himself relax as he listened to his teacher's words and he nodded his understanding, offering a small smile in thanks at the explanation.

"Aside from your arm, Harry, is there anything else that is still causing a problem for you? Are you still hearing murmurs?" Severus asked.

"Not really," Harry replied with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "But I don't know if that's because I'm ignoring it because I'm used to it or if the reason why I was, or thought I was, hearing voices before was because I was tired. I've been feeling pretty good lately… aside from the slight frustration of not being able to perform spells without blowing something up," he added with a crooked grin.

"Can you recall the last time you thought you could hear a voice?"

Harry bit his lip. "Possibly a few days ago? I think it was when you, Malfoy, and I were having lunch. I missed part of your conversation because I was distracted by what I thought was another voice in the room. It was really quick and quiet, was hard to work out whether I did hear something or…" Harry trailed off and shrugged again.

"Anything else out of the ordinary?" Severus asked, watching as the young man shook his head. "Alright, good. We will continue to focus on your work with wandless magic for the mean time. While hearing voices is not something to be ignored, until we can work out what is the cause there is not much we can do on that front. It doesn't appear to be malicious, could very well be as you say that it is something tied to your exhaustion. We will monitor it."

"Sounds like a plan." Harry grinned.

It was not long before Harry was begging Severus to allow him to go flying. Ever since he had been gifted the glove for his birthday, the idea of being able to play quidditch had been the forethought of Harry's mind. He found that he so desperately needed to find something that he was still good at. Lessons with Severus were going well, but progressing slowly. Even though the number of destroyed dummies was finally reducing, the pace of success was not happening anywhere near as quickly as Harry had hoped. Each day had them drawing closer to their return to Hogwarts and with it, the ever-looming date of destiny between Harry and Voldemort. And with Harry's magic as haywire and unpredictable as it still was, the lack of control was lighting a panic within him, fuelling his need for some semblance of command and governance.

Something, Harry hoped with all of his might, that would be fixed if he could just try flying again.

It was with slight pursed lips and a very reluctant sigh that Severus finally gave in to Harry's request one morning at breakfast. With a jubilant grin, Harry was thanking his teacher and pushing away from the table, thoughts of inviting Malfoy over for a little game of one-on-one swirling about in his head. He headed for his room, rushing over to this desk to write out a quick message.

Malfoy,

Get your arse over here. Sev's given me the all clear to go flying and I need the reassurance that I can still kick your butt at catching the snitch.

- H.

He blew gently on the quickly drying ink before folding the parchment in half and calling for Tokey. She popped into the room right beside his chair, gazing up at him with her big yellow eyes.

"Young sir be calling Tokey?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, thanks, Tokey." Harry held out the small missive. "Can you take this over to Draco Malfoy? Hang around for his reply if it doesn't take too long. Is that alright?"

"Of course, young sir!" Tokey beamed, accepting the message. "Tokey be making sure Young Master Draco sends back a reply, young sir!" She disappeared with a crack.

Within five minutes Tokey was back with a rolled up piece of parchment which she thrust happily into Harry's hand. He thanked her as he unfurled the message and she curtseyed, popping away again. A silly grin spread across Harry's face as he read Malfoy's reply.

Potter,

Who the fuck taught you how to write a summons letter.

I'll be there in twenty.

- M.

Harry had his broom shouldered, a snitch in his pocket, and his boot tapping the floor impatiently as he waited for the fireplace to burst into flames. At twenty minutes exactly, Malfoy stepped out of the hearth with his own broom, elegantly brushing down his clothes of any soot.

"Finally," Harry remarked.

"Don't be so impatient, Potter," Malfoy sneered in reply, "I told you how long I would be."

"Alright, fine, let's just go already."

"In a moment. I have to go and greet Severus."

"What? Why?"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, do you have any manners at all? It is customary to greet the Lord or Lady of the house you are visiting. It's called being polite. Besides the fact that Severus is my godfather after all."

"Okay, okay, go already," Harry said, unable to stop from pouting ever so slightly. "I'll meet you outside."

"Why so impatient, Potter?" Draco asked with a quirk of a blond eyebrow.

"No reason," Harry mumbled in reply. "Just feeling restless."

The two young men played three games of capture-the-snitch, with Harry winning all three much to Malfoy's increasing annoyance. Malfoy had been adamant that after the second game they were to play at least one more in order for him to finally get one over Potter. Whether or not he actually cared about capturing the snitch or just wanted to continue ogling Potter as he rode a broom in deliciously form-fitting pants was another story entirely.

"Good to see not much has changed," Draco sniped as they made their way back inside, heading for Potter's bedroom. "Your total reliance on the firebolt to beat an opponent is still just as prevalent."

"Get fucked, Malfoy," Harry replied with a roll of his eyes. "You know damn well I could beat you with my arm still in a sling."

Malfoy snorted as they reached the final corridor. Something excitable and reckless was flickering like a flame in his belly, and as they entered Potter's room the blond kicked the door shut with a sudden surge of relish. Potter turned to glare at him, green eyes ablaze, and Draco felt his cock twitch. Fuck the Golden Boy was attractive. Draco could feel his mouth practically water at the temptation Potter presented. Ever since their clarification about their unexpected hook up on Potter's birthday, things had not progressed as fast as Draco had hoped. Hell, Draco didn't even really need progression between them as it were, but he certainly needed a good fucking orgasm that wasn't brought on by his own hand.

And Potter had already show his interest.

"And yet with all of your many talents you continue to be infuriatingly mundane."

"Why are you being such a wanker for?" Potter snapped. "It was just a game."

Draco's eyes flashed, but it wasn't with anger as Harry had been expecting. Suddenly, Malfoy had Harry's entire attention and as he ran his eyes over the Slytherin's form, something began to simmer in the pit of his stomach.

Harry had been half-hard throughout the entire game on the quidditch pitch. Watching Malfoy fly as he dipped, dived, and teased Harry on the field had had more of an impact on him than Harry had anticipated… not that he was complaining of course. Harry had been so frustrated with himself and his inability to perform magically that whatever little game Malfoy was playing now had Harry's entire attention.

"Why don't you actually show me what you're good for," Draco commanded, keeping his gazed fixed on Potter's. He barely acknowledged the young man tossing his broom onto the bed, but he certainly noticed the way Potter stalked towards him, and his heart stuttered a little, a small flight of nervous anticipation at the growing fierceness on the Gryffindor's face.

"Show you, Malfoy?" Potter growled, and Draco had to suppress a shiver.

"You don't have the bollocks."

Harry shoved the blond into the wall, hands fisting into his shirt. Malfoy met him with vicious force, their lips crashing together, teeth clacking as they kissed brutally.

"You're such a shit," Harry gasped, tearing his mouth away.

"Fuck you, Potter."

Their lips came together once more, Harry plunging his tongue into Malfoy's mouth in a dominating fashion. He heard the blond groan, Malfoy's fingers loosening ever so slightly, and Harry felt a sudden spike of satisfaction as he ravished the Slytherin, taking immense pleasure as Malfoy began to yield. The kiss continued until Malfoy had to pull away, gasping for breath, silver eyes almost completely black. Harry felt the blond's hands slide down his arms and over his hips, one hand in particular being exceptionally daring.

— Xx Rough Sexual Themes Ahead xX —

"For me?" Malfoy purred, gripping the hard thickness through Harry's jeans.

"If you're lucky," the brunet replied, voice husky. "I may make you beg yet."

A determined fierceness shone in Malfoy's eyes and a sneer curled at his lips, even as an enticing shiver coursed up his spine. An evil smirk stretched across Harry's face when he saw it. Who knew the normally enigmatic git would become so unmasked when horny?

"Something tells me…" Harry began, grasping Malfoy's hips in a vice-like grip and roughly pulling the boy towards him, "that you might just like begging." Then he ground his hard erection against the blond's, pleased when a strangled moan drowned out Malfoy's snarky reply.

"You—oh, f-fuck—" Malfoy's hands came to rest on Harry's biceps. "You wish." Draco smothered a moan, not wanting to give Potter the satisfaction of every reaction the damn male seemed to drag from him.

"How do you want it, Malfoy?" Harry growled. He sunk his teeth into a twitching tendon on the blond's neck. Malfoy jerked and moaned, pressing himself closer to Harry.

"Down your throat?"

Another bite. Another moan.

"Rubbed against your cock?"

Draco began to pant.

"Sliding hot and rough into your arse?"

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Malfoy groaned.

"Well?"

"Throat—" Draco sucked in a desperate breath when Potter grabbed his crotch, rubbing it mercilessly. "Fuck! P-Potter—oh gods, throat."

Harry chuckled darkly. He was thoroughly enjoying this side of Malfoy. With a brief surge of willpower, Harry pulled himself away from the Slytherin and raised a hand to Malfoy's shoulder. He gave Malfoy a knowing look, pressing down firmly, not surprised when the other young man initially resisted the silent order. There was the tiniest flare of resistance in silver eyes as Harry increased the pressure on Malfoy's shoulder. With a surge of satisfaction, Harry watched Malfoy finally succumb, the blond falling elegantly to his knees with an anticipated breath escaping passed parted lips. Malfoy leant forwards, nuzzling the hard length hidden within the confines of Harry's jeans that had Harry biting back his own moan. Long pale fingers fiddled impatiently with his fly, freeing his erection, but before Malfoy could encircle it within his grip, Harry growled out a command.

"No touching."

There was another flare of defiance before Malfoy complied and Harry, being the selfless person that he was, did not keep the young man on his knees waiting. His fingers tangled deeply within delicate blond strands as he guided Malfoy's open mouth to the head of his cock. Hot caresses of breath made Harry shiver, and he was unable to prevent the soft groan that rumbled in his throat as the blond boy wrapped his lips around him. Searing slickness encased his cock, drawing Harry in deep as Malfoy moved, wriggling his tongue in a positively sinful manner.

Harry felt Malfoy relax his jaw and silver eyes swept up to his: a silent challenge. Harry's fingers tightened in Malfoy's hair and, with a smirk curling at his lips, he hastened to accept. Harry shoved his hips forward, cock sliding across the hot tongue and into the eagerly awaiting throat.

Both males groaned.

Harry tilted Malfoy's head back and forced himself further, his pelvis pressed firmly against Malfoy's nose. Withdrawing only a little, the brunet began to thrust eagerly in short, sharp jabs, the walls of Malfoy's throat constricting tantalisingly around him. The look of pure bliss on Malfoy's face was almost enough to make Harry come right then and there. Pulling out, Harry allowed the boy on his knees a chance to breathe while he slid his hand up and down his wet cock in firm controlled strokes, enjoying the sight of Malfoy's moist, reddening lips. A pink tongue darted out to run over them as Malfoy lifted his gaze.

"Do it like you mean it, Potter," he rasped, voice already becoming hoarse.

Harry's eyes flashed. "Careful, Malfoy, I might just do that." With his left hand still buried in Malfoy's hair, he allowed his right to drift down to the gentle curve of the blond's neck, gloved fingers pausing at a spot just below Malfoy's Adams apple, almost in silent promise.

Malfoy seemed positively jubilant by the prospect. He opened his mouth eagerly, too impatient to wait for Harry to move as he worked the pulsating cock, sucking and swirling his tongue expertly, and for a short while, Harry was content to allow Malfoy to demonstrate his cock-sucking skills. The blond hummed, his tongue stroking, massaging, the underside of Harry's cock, while a deft pale hand moved to his own aching bulge, unbuttoning his pants and releasing his erection.

God, Malfoy looked delectable.

Draco paused when he felt fingers tighten in his hair and he looked up, positively mewling at the possessive glow in Harry's eyes. He obeyed the silent command and fell still, the only movement his stroking hand, and allowed Harry to regain control.

"Do it like I mean it, Malfoy?" he murmured, sliding his entire length in and out of the blond's throat achingly slowly, "now's the time to change your mind."

Malfoy was probably the only person capable of sneering around a cock, which delighted Harry to no end. He chuckled, low and deep.

"If you insist."

Malfoy's hand was moving ferociously over his own erection, his eyes lustrous with pleasure. Watching Malfoy on his knees before him, Harry's thick cock causing the boy's throat to bulge with each rapid thrust, awoke something deep within Harry he had not realised he had been hiding. The feeling was almost primal, a strong desire to claim.

To dominate.

To be in control.

And Malfoy's current submissive behaviour was fuelling that fire fiercely. With a snap of his hips, Harry shoved forwards roughly, burying his cock entirely within Malfoy.

And stayed there.

Realising what the brunet was doing, Draco moaned wantonly, his hand almost a blur on his own prick as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Look at me," Harry growled.

Glazed, glistening silver eyes found his and Harry felt his cock throb. Malfoy was completely within his control, blissfully compliant to allow anything the brunet could dish out. The Slytherin had not fought him after he'd slipped to his knees—in fact he seemed to urge Harry on.

Who was becoming exceedingly impressed. Harry had been choking the blond with his cock for at least half a minute and Malfoy seemed just as determined as Harry to see how long he could last. Saliva was dripping down Malfoy's chin due to his inability to swallow and it made the male appear all the more debauched.

"I wonder how many people know how much you like to gag on cock," Harry mused, casually smearing a dribble of spit across Draco's blotching cheek with his thumb. The blond choked, desperately trying to swallow, and Harry swore aloud as his cock was massaged by the convulsing muscles in Draco's throat. He watched, mesmerised, as Malfoy's glassy eyes began to roll back, the lack of oxygen becoming very apparent.

And still Malfoy did not struggle against Harry's grip.

Astounding. Utterly astounding. And Harry revelled in it. He never would have known Draco Malfoy was a kinky-bastard, but if the quickening pace on the blond's erection was any indication, Draco certainly had a few bedroom secrets of his own—

With a wicked jerk Malfoy came, hot white semen coating the front of Harry's jeans who groaned in approval. He pulled out of Malfoy's mouth and the blond boy dragged in a desperate shaking breath as he sagged, body trembling. Harry did not give him long before he reclaimed Malfoy's mouth, thrusting powerfully into the thoroughly abused throat with abandon. His climax had already been close and the addition of the delicious noises Draco was currently making, Harry was thrown over the edge. With one last brutal thrust, he shoved his cock in deep, body stiffening as hot spurts of come flooded Malfoy's throat.

When he finally removed himself from within Malfoy, Harry watched, with a twinge of satisfaction, as a dribble of come leaked passed his lips and down his jaw. Compelled to taste, Harry dropped to his knees and leant in close, holding Malfoy's head still with one hand and pressing a sucking kiss to his flushed skin. His tongue trailed up to the corner of Draco's lips and Harry felt the other boy shiver, before he claimed Malfoy's mouth one last time in a bruising kiss. Malfoy responded lazily, sated and accommodating.

Then Harry finally, finally, allowed himself to release Malfoy, the blond lying himself down on the carpet, silver eyes closed and chest still rising and falling rather rapidly. Harry joined him, fixing his jeans as he did so.

"Holy shit," Draco rasped. "Who knew you had it in you, Potter."

Harry hummed in amusement. "Right back at you, Malfoy," he replied.

"Mmm, I'm going to be feeling you for a week." Malfoy sighed, and long fingers stroked appreciatively down his neck.

"You have a fucking sinful mouth, Draco."

The Slytherin chuckled darkly. "You don't know the half of it, Potter."

Harry was suddenly hit with the urge that he definitely wanted to know. He hadn't really known what to expect when he'd shoved Malfoy to his knees, and he had been exceptionally ready to push the Slytherin to his limits, when Malfoy had met him at every shove, revelling in Harry's dominance and begging for more.

Was it trust that allowed them to push so far? To shove each other to the brink and see just how far they could go?

Hell no.

Trust had nothing to do with it. If anything, it was the thrill of reciprocated and unrestricted pent up frustration that made them fit together so well. Harry wanted to use and Malfoy wanted to be used. And it was the fear of the unknown, of not knowing when either of them would stop, that was so enticing. It was the one thing in each of their lives that they could control.

— Xx End of Rough Sexual Themes xX —

"Remember, this means nothing, Potter," Malfoy clarified, getting to his feet as he straightened his clothes and spelled them clean.

The brunet snorted, also getting to his feet. "Relax, Malfoy, I'm not looking for a boyfriend to cuddle." He yanked the Slytherin towards him, effectively ruining the smoothness of the shirt that Malfoy had finished flattening. "The only plans I have for this are mutually beneficial." He brought his gloved hand to Malfoy's chin, gripping it with his fingers as he stroked his thumb along the blond's still reddened and swollen lips. God, he could feel himself getting hard again just by doing so. And judging from the way the other boy's eyes darkened with arousal, Malfoy was too.

Harry smirked. "We use each other for a decent fuck. That is all."

"If you call that decent."

Vibrations buzzed from Malfoy's lips and up Harry's thumb but the pleasant tingle was nothing compared to the defiance in the blond male's voice. It was that very tone that heated Harry's blood so deliciously.

"Careful, Malfoy, or we may just find out how decent I can be."

Malfoy's bottom lip twitched slightly, as if he had wanted to capture it with his teeth as Harry's words filled him with a flickering flame that made him want to pant.

"Guess we'll just have to find that out next time, Potter," he breathed, eyes flicking to Harry's mouth. "Alas, I am expected home."

"Shame," Harry murmured, finally pulling away from the blond and allowing some space between them. "I look forward to next time."

A/N: So funny story, the bedroom scene between Harry and Draco was actually the instigator for this work. I didn't have the heart to publish it as a one-off and BAM Twist of Fate was born.

Reviews appreciated! I am hoping to get back on track with my updates, everyone keep their fingers crossed and thoughts positive for me! :D 3

I hope those who enjoy rough smut enjoyed this chapter. I hope those who don't like rough smut skipped over it as to not lessen their like for this work :D