Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...duh

A/N: I'm taking a slightly a different approach, I hope you enjoy... Here it is...

Warning: Semi-pornish scene, NC-17, Male/Male, deliberate cheeziness.

Harry frowned slightly, the blonde a helpless mess before him, pale arms tied tightly to the bed posts, ropes tying his feet drawing actual blood as they cut harshly into one Draco Malfoy. Who had done this? A light blush colored the Gryfindor's cheeks as he took in Malfoy's bareness, the sheer flaccidity of his cock hanging a low nine inches or so, and though the raven haired boy felt embarrassment for them both, he could not stop his appreciation of the blonde's size from ghosting through his mind.

Silver eyes fluttered open as if the dirty thought had been said aloud, coloring the petite boy's features a deeper red. A slow smirk curled the corner of the blonde's lips when he looked up at Potter, the usual mockery present, even in the blonde's state of both distress and undress.

"Hello, Potter," he drawled lazily, as if being tied to a bed in the middle of Snape's classroom, at midnight, was routine. Harry blushed even farther at what his mind was beginning to imply and immediately, pushing the blush down, his long fingers worked at the tight knots of the bed. "Must you always have that super hero complex gnawing at what little brain you have?" The blonde drawled, smirk still in place. Though he made no move to stop Harry, the Gryfindor sensed an unwillingness to leave the restraints. Just as Harry set to work on the last knot, the one around Malfoy's right ankle, which, in Harry's opinion, was the worst of the two injuries, the fair-haired boy had sustained, Malfoy sat up. His hair, a blonde mass of slight curls and sweat, fell into his silver eyes, the orbs flashing, ravishing the oblivious boy's body with just his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that, Potter?" he whispered and for the first time in the twenty minutes it took to remove the other three ropes, the Gryfindor looked to Malfoy.

The raven-haired youth's eyes blinked a wide, forest green in surprise. Draco's arms were trembling as if struggling to hold himself up, the innocent reading the movement wrong, as Draco was really trying to hold himself back. Draco's eyes drank in Potter's robe-clad body, the utter need to diminish the non-generous clothing over powering, his mind already filling in the blank spots in which clothes covered. And as all this took place, Potter's hands moved on without him, the rope slipping, sticky, from Draco's bloody foot, but the blonde felt no pain.

"Malfoy?" Harry's simple pitch to signify a question seemed to trigger whatever the tension within the young Malfoy was. With a flick of his wrist, Harry's clothes became nonexistent, leaving the flushing, shocked, bewildered Gryfindor, bare. "What the bloody f-?" his exclamation was lost to the wind as the air was, literally, sucked from him, a pair of lips pressing onto his own as he was suddenly on his back. A hard body pressing fully onto his own, Malfoy's cock hot and hard against his own responding member as a hand traveled without destination all over his body.

A slight thrust of the hips followed his stolen kiss, his arms wrapping around the young Malfoy, eyes closing from wide ocean green when he realized the pleasantness of it all. As a response, Malfoy's sharp canines bit into the tender flesh of his lip and he yelped. The unmistakable roughness of rope tying his ankles and arms spreading him somewhat eagle across the satin, black and bloody sheets of the large bed, cooper flooding his mouth. Nips and suckles at his lips followed his sharp yelp yielding to soft moans and whimpers as Malfoy's hands found his hardening nipples and hairless abdomen. The blonde's lips left his own, the skin separating wetly, Harry's mouth trying to stay on his own.

"Damn, Potter," Draco, drawled and the sound was almost…sexy, looking between them at Potter's well-endowed length only smaller than his own by a centimeter or so, "how did you keep -that- from Voldemort?" The Slytherin was pleased to find when the Boy-Who-Lived blushed, it spread throughout his body in a heat wave. He watched as the red started just behind his ears, traveling to his cheeks, down to his strong, but small neck, passed his defined chest and arms and down, even farther, to his cock, the hard, swollen, red length becoming a deeper red, the path pulsating down to the Gryfindor's wiggling toes. Draco's smirk widened, feeling the heat radiate deliciously against him, rocking his hips just slightly onto Potter.

The Gryfindor's head tossed back against the lack of pillows to find ground in what he was experiencing throughout his body, hips thrusting upward to relive the moment. Utter relief poured over his pores when he found his wanted experience with an upward thrust of his own hips. Draco struggled to maintain his control through Potter's thrusts. Head spinning, Draco brought a firm hand to the Gryfindor's hips, his sharp nails digging with purpose into the tanned slight outward curvature causing a sharp contrast of red on caramel brown with another loud yelp from the Gryfindor.

The youngest of the Malfoy clan marveled at the complete consistency of color, even the whimpering head of the Gryfindor's cock a lavish light tan. The sudden urge to taste the skin before him over powered his better judgment to merely fuck him and be done with it. Even as his lips and teeth and tongue preyed on the tight, trembling largest organ of the human anatomy, thoughts of the personalization of it all rang desperately through his head, which he happily ignored. As a Malfoy, and as –Draco- Malfoy, using common parts, such as an ass or a cock was not as personal nor as private as a loving kiss or nip, or suck, far from, actually. For the mouth, Draco thought as his tongue found the hallow of Harry's ear and the dip of his neck, was the tool in which a Malfoy set you onto a pedestal in heaven, or chained you to a wall in hell. As such, this oral visage next to Godliness was only to be used on one, or two, held in Godly light, used on the individual most craved, most desired, a life mate, if one would.

The youngest heir attempted to shudder when he remembered allowing himself to partake in a kiss with the Gryfindor. Tried, and failed, to be repulsed by his actions even as his lips sucked, nipped and licked, his hands pulling, squeezing at Harry's chest, down to his abdomen to lap greedily at the sweat collecting in his clean and quiet tasty belly button. Draco moved downward until his nose nestled softly into the trimmed, slight curls of the Gryfindor's pelvic regions. The hairs a perfect tone of raven like the boy's hair and, with this thought, Draco's eyes moved upward to land heavily on the bright, vibrant green eyes. Had he, on some unconscious level he dared not tread, thought the Golden Boy a beauty, he was awe-stuck now.

The Gryfindor's eyes a fiery green of passion and pleading, eyes closing now and again to take in deep, shuddering breaths though swollen, strawberry lips, embarrassment coloring his cheeks when he realized the young Malfoy's smirk. Harry turned his head to the side in shame, attempting to hide himself in his sparsely hairy armpit, arms jerking at his restraints violently.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Did The-Boy-Who-Lived not know of the honor he was being drenched in, the honor of Draco merely kissing him? Though his own actions puzzled him, and deciding he didn't like the strawberry pink of the boy's lips, the young blonde decided to show him. With a swift gliding movement up Harry's body, drawing a moan from both, Draco had reclaimed Harry's hesitant lips, teeth drawing cherry blood once more from the swollen gather of tissue and muscle. With another swift glide of his body, Draco was once more between the Gryfindor's legs, Harry Jr. standing at full attention in eagerness. Without hesitation, Draco's index and thumb wrapped securely around the base before bringing the tip into his hot mouth, his previous breath upon the tip cooling before the actual enclosure scolded the raven-haired boy.

Harry's head pressed into the bed and his eyes closed, a moan, seemingly from his soul, exiting his clenching teeth and shaking the columns of his foundations. Draco answered with his own vibrating moan, the sound from the Gryfindor teasing his ears, leaving them a tingle. The tight heat plucked at the stings of Harry's physical and psychological sanity, his bliss so near through all sensation, the only tie holding his cock around the base. For he truly believed he would find salvation in the heavens if Draco would release him. He had not realized he had been speaking gibberish until his tongue, teeth and lips began to form actual words.

"Draco, please, gods, Merlin, whoever the bloody the bloody –fuck- is watching over this forsaken, beautiful world, please," he whimpered, begging so violently his thrashing arms and legs drew blood at his ankles and wrists. His plea did not go unanswered, though not in the way he had hoped. Draco's mouth stopped after licking at the base of the beautiful cock and curving over the tip to repeat the process in every angle he could once, twice then three times before pulling away, as if he did not want to stop. "No, no, no, don't stop," Harry groaned, hips rocking listlessly through the air in want. Through his whimpers, Harry could practically –hear- Draco licking his lips. Looking down, eyes narrowed in lust, Harry watched, fascinated through his returning flush as Draco licked at the hand certainly not occupied, his index finger and thumb still wrapped securely at the base of Harry's cock, the silver eyes closed in enjoyment. The long pale fingers withdrew from Draco's mouth, the same mouth that had once housed his still very eager cock, intense silver eyes opening to reveal the sharp contrast of dilated black against silver.

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