Author: Fireelemental79
Rated: R
Canon: Post-HBP.
Length: 7,400 words.
Scenario: I promise to use my tongue
Summary: Draco turns 23 and realizes that he and Harry are having some problems in their relationship. So he decides that he�s going to run off and solve them on his own.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I think we all know who they really belong to.
Notes: Thanks to Rurounihime. Also, I just wrote my own thing.
In a Rut
Draco�s twenty-third birthday: There was dancing and goodies and presents and two and a half bottles of firewhiskey that went down like volcanic acid but stayed down like pools of liquid gold � There was loud obnoxious singing in the street, and likewise obnoxious tripping over the doorway of their home � There was delightful ripping and shredding of every single piece of clothing off each others� bodies � There was the overly giggly casting of what Harry so lovingly called the �Durex Charm� on both their drunkenly happy . . . bodies � There was a small spurt of snogging on the sofa, then some more snogging on one of the bar stools, then some deep snogging against the hallway wall, then a little groping/snogging in the shower � There was the inevitable landing on their nice big bed, where they spent exactly five minutes doing some hot and heavy moaning, groping, sighing, pumping, to be followed directly by a couple of seconds of attendant coming � And then there was the twenty-third birthday realization.
It occurred to Draco as he pulled away from Harry and rolled onto his back. He and Harry were in a rut. . . Sexually.
It wasn�t that Draco wasn�t experimental. He was the proud owner of a Muggle penis vibrator, one pair of padded handcuffs, a red ball gag, three enchanted feather ticklers, a bottle of Madame Venus� Oil of Erotic Destiny (pineapple flavored), leather chaps, a black feather boa and one pair of matching black, feathery, stiletto high-heels. He�d be willing to bet that if he hadn�t tried it once, he probably simply hadn�t heard about it yet, but if someone was kind enough to explain the details, he�d definitely try it out on Harry later.
It wasn�t that Harry wasn�t a bit kinky. He liked breaking out Draco�s Muggle penis vibrator, slapping the padded handcuffs onto Draco, popping the red ball gag into his mouth and tickling him with the three enchanted feather ticklers, which he himself enchanted. He liked playing dress up, with chaps and such. He liked rubbing Madame Venus� Oil of Erotic Destiny all over Draco�s body, then licking it off, which is why it was pineapple flavored, because he loved the way Draco tasted with a little pineapple flavoring. And Harry really got off on the black feather boa and the matching black, feathery, stiletto high-heels. In fact, he had a real shoe fetish, and absolutely loved to put Draco into sexy shoes and boots and then watch him walk around all day wearing them. He was so kinky that he discovered their favorite position, then he discovered a way to improve it that was so obvious as to be almost imbecilic. It simply involved Draco bending his leg a little to the left and Harry leaning over him and to the right just a little bit and boom! The first time they�d done that Draco had screamed, literally screamed. He�d never literally screamed before. Moaned and shouted a great deal, but not screamed.
Experimental Draco and willing Harry, had, not so long ago, seemed like sex gods to each other. What had gone so wrong? How was it possible for two very young men in love and in lust to find themselves in a rut? Or, to literally find themselves rutting? Not really having sex, not �making love,� not even fucking. Just rutting away as if it were all a necessary evil, as if they were performing some type of dueling masturbation.
Draco very much hoped that it was simply the fact that they were both pissed on firewhiskey and just careless, but . . .
The next morning, when Draco staggered into the kitchen, it was to find Harry sitting there tousled, in nothing but his boxers, eating a muffin, eyes bloodshot. Draco smiled, but Harry didn�t. Instead he simply said, �That was perhaps the worst . . . the worst we�ve ever . . . That was just bad, Draco.�
�Well, excuse me, but you were the one who ordered that second bottle of firewhiskey. And then the third.�
Harry was quiet. �We should have another go.�
�Why?�
�To see if it was just drunkenness, or if . . .�
�Right now?�
�Yes, right now.�
�But I�m bloody hung-over!�
�So am I! A little sex never hurt a hangover.�
Draco rolled his eyes, stood up, and started toward the bedroom. Harry followed him.
Five minutes later Harry was trudging off to the shower and Draco was sitting on the other bar stool, the one they hadn�t left arse-prints on during their naked snog-fest, sipping some tea and wondering what it meant.
Finally he got up, opened the door to the bath, ducked his head in, and sighed: �I do love you.�
�I love you too,� Harry called over the water.
�So what does it mean when two people love each other, but are unable to have really good sex?�
�I don�t know. Perhaps we�re just . . .too hung-over.�
�Or maybe we�re in a rut.�
�A what?�
�A RUT,� Draco raised his voice and took another step into the bathroom, closing the door behind him to trap the steam inside. He sat down on the toilet.
The shower shut off and Harry peeked around the curtain. �You believe that?�
�I don�t want to. It just seems we haven�t done anything new lately. But just because it�s suddenly so . . . boring, doesn�t mean it can�t be exciting again.�
�Not exciting? I never thought I�d hear you say that we weren�t exciting. This is us. You and I. We�ve had sex floating upside down!� Harry�s hand came whipping out from behind the curtain, brandishing his bar of soap as if it were a sword.
�That was pretty fun. Until I thought I was going to throw up.�
�We�ve had sex in every closet in Hogwarts.�
�The one closest to Filch�s office we graced three times.� Draco looked down at the nails on his hand.
�We�ve had sex in the library under the invisibility cloak.�
�And that bunch of first years caught us, and from then on they thought the library was haunted by some new, really disgusting-sounding ghost who just didn�t happen to manifest itself.� Draco looked up and smiled. Harry smiled back softly.
�We�ve had sex in your vault at Gringotts.�
�Gold has always been a special aphrodisiac for the Malfoys.�
�You�ve met me at the door wearing nothing but women�s shoes and a feather boa.�
�Now let�s not even go there,� Draco said standing. Harry ducked back into the shower.
�What are we going to do, Draco?�
�I don�t know. But I promise you, I�ll think of something,� Draco said softly.
�What was that?� Harry asked, pulling the curtain back.
�I said . . . I said we�ll think of something.�
�Sure we will, because we�re Harry and Draco, two wicked, deviant blokes.�
Draco smiled half-heartedly and backed out of the bathroom.
Draco went to work early that day. He wasn�t trying to get away from Harry, mostly because Harry had already gotten away from him. They usually walked together to the Ministry; after all, they both worked there and they both liked walking, so why not? But Harry had rushed off claiming that he had a busy day ahead of him, and Draco was still sipping his morning tea. Stepping out the door, he�d been worried that Harry was avoiding him. But of course, Harry might have simply been trying to get away. Not from Draco per se, but from everything else.
The morning was gray and wet, hovering between a drizzle and a full out rain. It seemed that every person on the street carried an umbrella, and that he was the only one who walked empty-handed. He�d thought about just Apparating to work, yet there was something to the day, dreary as it was, that drew him out into the foot-traffic.
Knowing it would rain, he�d actually glanced at their collection of umbrellas. But he�d just let it go. Looking at himself, then at everyone else, he noticed he wore a long raincoat belted tightly around his waist just as everyone else did. He wore a navy suit with a matching light blue shirt and a silver tie. He wore a hat, just like a dozen other men standing all around him. He looked like them. He owned umbrellas that looked like theirs. He owned very fancy shoes made by Muggles in Italy. Harry had insisted they buy a washing machine and dryer. They owned two televisions, and an espresso machine. And it wasn�t that they didn�t do magic, but it occurred to Draco as he looked around that even the magic seemed mundane and too normal, as if any other person on the street could have levitated their couch to vacuum underneath it. As if anyone else could have lit a room full of red taper candles with just a word to create the proper mood for seduction even as the intended seducee was walking through the door.
Draco knew a charm that could have kept him from being wet. But then he�d stick out in the world, the only dry man amongst a populace shivering and hiding from the rain.
Draco realized he didn�t mind it, and then he realized that maybe that was a part of the problem. It had never occurred to him not to become what he was. Harry had been raised by Muggles, and so Draco had thought that meant their life together would be forever touched by Muggleness. Harry had been raised, well, practically as a slave, and had a mean streak of self-sufficiency that Draco couldn�t touch. Harry expected him to try, however. That was plain enough. After all, he�d explained to him how to use the post and telephones and how to cook with a wok. Draco had turned around and taught himself how to use their washer and dryer and their espresso machine. Because that was the way Harry wanted it to be. Or was it? If it wasn�t, then that was Draco�s fault. He had just assumed it would be. But maybe Harry wanted more magic.
Other than the odd charmed sex toy, Draco asked himself, when was the last time I did something spectacularly magical in bed? He couldn�t remember. It was more than months, maybe a little over a year. And when was the last time he�d taken Harry to do something completely magical, like one of the fireworks shows they held on summer nights in Fernswurg Park? They�d never gone to see a Wizard band. They didn�t even stop by the Leaky Cauldron for a drink anymore or go by Harry�s favorite sweet shop on Diagon Alley. They went to matinees and the zoo instead. They�re last real date had been to see a Muggle musical, �The Woman in White.� Harry liked Andrew Lloyd Webber, and it was a top notch show and all, but strictly speaking, not a �wizard� thing.
Draco stopped in the middle of the street, feeling the press of people walking to either side of him. Some went in one direction, some the other. For the life of him it felt as if they were all walking to the same destination, a bunch of lemmings ready to take a dive. He shook his head and trudged on toward the Ministry. He was just being melodramatic, surely. Draco may have cleaned the toilet once or twice (after long, drawn out fights that involved much in the way of threats and coercion on Harry�s part), but it was always with magic, a blast of Scourgify from the door way to the bathroom. So, their life wasn�t that normal, was it?
Work was impossible. Draco couldn�t get his mind off the two . . . mishaps. If it was something different, something explainable. . . A problem getting it up could easily be fixed by a visit to a Healer or a swig of �Percy Peter�s Pecker Pepper-upper.� If the concern was duration �C. Pike�s Penis Protracted Potion� was the best at fixing that, Draco knew well enough. There were toys and techniques, creative solutions to all the worst physical problems. But their problem was definitely not of the physical variety.
The problem, Draco finally reflected, was that it seemed as if they were just going through the motions. Hands here, dick there, tongue everywhere, rinse, repeat.
It didn�t help that it was a slow work day. In fact, every day was a slow work day since the war ended. Everything had gotten so damned quiet. No fighting, no torturing, no destruction. No explosions in the loo of some public Muggle place. No international outcry, no rallying of troops against Death Eaters. No Death Eaters. No death. Well, people died. But old people. Grizzled 192 year old wizards with no hair and blank spots where their teeth once were. And there were just so many times Draco could discuss the Ministry�s strict policy on cauldron thickness with some new foreign manufacturer via a haughty translator before he felt like strangling someone.
He and Harry were young. They had long, safe, steady futures ahead of them.
Suddenly, the big picture came into focus in Draco�s mind: He and Harry, walking to work each morning, meeting each other outside after work each evening. They would make the same old dinner of sauteed chicken and mushrooms over fried noodles. They would watch the same old stupid television shows. They would fall asleep sitting-up. Whoever woke up first would poke the other into a state of semi-consciousness so they could both clomp off to bed. Undressing in front of each other would be as thrilling as stripping before a prostate exam. One of them would probably try to make a move anyway, a little wiggle against the other�s leg after they were both under the covers, a soft tweak of a nipple or a lick of the earlobe. The other would beg off with a half-hearted elbow to the first�s stomach, claiming tiredness or whatever. One of them would fall asleep first; the other would lay lie awake for hours, listening to the way the breath whistled in the other�s nostrils. Mornings would bleed together, an endless march of monotony. Bathroom ministrations, dressing and cooking would become a finely choreographed dance around their home, with moves so honed that they didn�t even notice what the other was doing anymore. Breakfast would always be tea and toast. Harry would use too much sugar, Draco too much jam. But whose belly would go first? Kisses that were, once upon a time, long drawn-out tongue battles would slowly die down to pecked cheeks, always followed by the same complaint, �You need to shave, dear.�
Of course, to break up the routine they would visit Ron and Hermione for dinner. They would engage in small talk that would always end too soon, because, unfortunately, all Harry and Draco�s catching up would be caught up practically before they even started it. Then it would be Ron and Hermione�s turn, their small talk was always big talk; their lives so full of life. The news of the whole Weasley clan would be laid out. Fred and George were doing quite well with their global chain of joke shops, especially in American; Bill had been promoted once more at Gringotts, Fleur was expecting their fourth, and Albus, James, and Siria were all doing so well; Charlie�s work in Romania was really breaking ground, so much so that an energetic dragon specialist from Australia named Sally had traveled all the way to meet him, they were already engaged; and last but not least, Ginny was winning international acclaim as a Healer expert on Magical Bug-infectiology, and had made a lot of progress on the newest enchanted plague, air-born Bat-Bogey virus. Ron would even mention whose bum Percy was currently kissing at the Ministry, not that Harry and Draco wouldn�t know whose bum he was currently kissing, but that was Ron. Berating �Minister Prat� was his hobby. He needed hobbies. His latest successful signing of a young player with a great deal of potential for the Chudley Cannons had taken a lot out of him. Being a world-traveling talent scout for his favorite Qudditch team of all time was busy and stressful work. Hermione, who traveled with him, had managed to find yet another interesting and mysterious thing to investigate for the Department of Mysteries, once again conveniently located in exactly the spot where Ron found his player. Once they were done covering all the bases of their charmed life, Hermione would clear her throat and say, so anything new on Harry or Draco�s end? How were things up in Magical Law Enforcement; any new bad wizards? And International Magical Cooperation, any new trade negotiations?
Draco and Harry would be left to nod and answer, oh fine. You know, just another day. Bad wizards out wreaking havoc with enchanted whoopie cushions of doom or a whole new treaty to import cauldrons from Taiwan. Same old same old. And the rest, all the pushing of paper and the writing up of important memos and the levitating of pencils into the air, that was all hush hush. Ron and Hermione didn�t have to know that both Harry and Draco were masters at waste paper bin basketball. Everything was just smashing.
Draco felt their future spread in front of him, and it was boring. Their rut wouldn�t just be sex. Oh no, it would be everything. Every moment of every day for the next thirty years.
Draco threw another ball and it hooked at the top of the bin and spun around the edge of it before dropping in.
Not enough magic? If it was that simple. They were young and already the sex was going. What next? Fighting over the remote? Staying in instead of going out? Sleeping their Saturday�s away in front of the television? Earlier bedtimes? Fighting over who snores the loudest? Forty years down the line people would pass them on the street, two grey-haired geezers bickering like the old married couple they were while trying to hide the fact that they were both staring at young men�s bums as they passed. They would die in their rut!
And a cure? There was no cure. Draco could spend every day of the next fifty years looking for a cure � he would never find it. Sixty years down the road, Harry would wake up and absolutely hate Draco because he let them become so very fucking boring!
Draco sighed and tossed another piece of paper, then sighed again as it missed.
He Apparated home. It was raining harder and he really just didn�t care to wax philosophic while getting soaked again.
Stepping into their flat, Draco found it empty and silent. He walked into their bedroom, looked around, then began to undress. Down to his boxers, he slipped into the pair of jeans that Harry had bought him because they made his ass look like a lovely peach, wrapped and waiting to be bitten into. He changed into the charcoal cable knit sweater that Harry said made his eyes look like silver daggers and a pair of battered trainers. He pulled a black canvas bag from the closet, and started to pile similar clothing into it. Then he left a note, a short scrawl of ball-point ink on a piece of paper. Not quill and parchment. Not even that. It simply said: �I�ll be back when I can think of a something that is interesting, fun and intriguing. A solution. Until then, I�m not coming back. But I do promise to come back. D��
Draco grabbed his coat again, but still left the umbrella behind, and went to walk in the rain. This time philosophy and wetness just seemed par for the course.
No one seemed to care when he begged off work the next day because he was �sick.� Draco couldn�t tell whether that bothered him or not. If anything, it seemed to add to the sense of drudgery that had begun to hover around him.
He wasn�t at all sure what he�d do with his day, but it occurred to him that the best place to do it was along Slatturn Way, the Wizarding red-light district. After all, if there were any answers to be found, it would have to be there.
Slatturn Way had a funny name. It had more right to be called an �alley� than Diagon Alley. After all, it was narrow and dark. It was also pretty long. But still, it was more alley-like than any of the others. At both ends it supported semi-respectable shops that featured gift items, some of the �adult� variety. The middle was completely taken up with brothels and dives that featured naked dancers and, consequently sold liquor and sometimes a little food, if you liked that sort of kink. It was the shops between the almost-respectable ones on each end and the brothels down the middle that Draco was most interested in. They were the not-respectable-at-all-shops, and they usually featured the best variety of things-Draco-had-never-heard-of-but-if-y
There was Esmelda�s Essence of the Erotic Emporium (which sold everything oily and massage-ish), Curse and Dominations (which sold leather wear and goods), Sprocket�s Jokes and Jollies (a gift shop for the perverted), Alfred�s Rare Books (none of which would be said to be appropriate for children under the age of thirty-two), The Wiggling Wood (which specialized in sex toys and charmed objects), DeeDee�s Designer Dreams (a speciality fetish shop that sold everything from boas and matching stilettos to kinky healer costumes and skimpy underpants), and Draco�s personal favorite of the bunch � although he�d only heard about it � The Random Dragon Exotic Depot (where all the sex goods had an exotic twist, and where the most discriminating of the disgusting could pick up a pet or two. That, of course, wasn�t why he liked it. It was just that there was something to be said about a store that sold specially-trained Asian Fur-Footed Poke-spines and buxom south European Tongue-Button Nixies at half price. He also just liked the name. It was catchy.)
Yet, he didn�t find any new ideas in any of these stores. And although he laid down galleons at each one, and soon found himself carrying a dozen small brown paper bags, he felt he was no closer to getting an answer than when the day started.
And then he came across Madame Monique�s Sex Techniques: An educational shop.
That pretty much said it all.
Madame Monique had a tongue ring and was more than willing to show him her other piercings. She was dressed like a dominatrix gypsy, with a black leather corset, red velvet peasant-skirt and black lace shawl. He didn�t get a chance to see her shoes, but if he�d had to guess, he�d say they were break-neck stiletto granny-boots. She had a big tattoo of a rose over her left breast that peaked out the top of her corset. Her hair was highly stylized in ringlets and her makeup was perfectly over-done. She had a rather large, sexy mole, next to her mouth. She looked, in other words, like the sort of woman who would run a sex shop under the name Madame Monique. He was surprised she didn�t offer to tell him his sexual future.
All in all, her items ranged from ordinary to exotic, her books spanned from perverted to prudish. She sold magically charmed studs for every part of the human body. Some vibrated.
And she had far too many animal printed items decorating her store.
But as he stood at her counter discussing the advantages of the Rolled Gold Sex-Magic Oil Honey Flavored vs. the SeXey-Kitten Banana Flavored Skin Lickable Dust, she flat out told him what he had to do.
�Just use your tongue, you git,� she said. She took his money for the oil, and managed to sell him a charmed tongue stud of the vibrating variety. He�d been intrigued by the idea, but hesitant to buy it until she told him that it didn�t actually require his tongue being pierced, unlike a Muggle tongue ring. Instead, all he�d need to do was place it on his tongue in the particular spot he felt would be most effective, then wait a few minutes. It would stick on no problem, and not come off. No matter what he did with it. To turn it on he would simply need to bite down on it gently, the same to turn it off. There, easy. He was sold.
She was even kind enough to give him a very large brown paper bag to carry all his other, smaller, brown paper bags in.
As he left the store, she put a finger on her chin and nodded. �Your tongue. That�s the ticket, mate.�
Draco was halfway out of Slatturn Way when it occurred to him that he should send a gift and a note to Harry letting him know that he�d found a solution. He went back to Madame Monique�s, where he found a rose made of black velvet and wire that magically bloomed as if it were real, and a small card to go with it on which he wrote the cryptic sentence: �I promise to use my tongue.�
Oh, and on a whim he also picked up a pair of really sexy boots with little metal studs and thick soles that he hadn�t seen the first time around or he, naturally, would have bought them right off.
Draco was waiting for Harry the next night when he came home from work. Harry walked in to find him wearing nothing but the boots he�d bought and his tongue stud. After putting it on, Draco had found that it made him talk a little funny, but he didn�t figure Harry would notice. He had the lights dimmed, a few candles lit and was sitting with his legs crossed, his left foot bouncing in the air to show off his boots. The only way it could have been more perfect is if he had a romantic meal prepared, but he�d been short on time.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stared. His face seemed to be filled with conflict. On one hand, he was obviously turned on because, well, damn. . . On the other hand, the look on his face spoke of surprise, but not exactly the sort of surprise Draco had wanted to see. He smiled anyway. Harry frowned.
�Did you get my note?� Draco asked, talking carefully around the stud.
�Yes.�
Draco flashed another sleazy smile. �Now I know it may sound simplistic, but what I�ve got planned. . . well, I think you�ll be pleasantly surprised.�
He stood up and Harry turned his face away, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. Draco smiled to himself and was about to say something, but Harry turned his eyes back to Draco. His mouth was twisted down and his eyes were squinched up in that way they always got when he was absolutely furious. Usually that look had to do with a certain dirty toilet, but . . . Well it couldn�t have been too bad, because his nostrils weren�t flared yet and . . . just as Draco let that thought cross his mind, Harry�s nostrils curled out, just the tiniest fraction, but there it was.
�You know what? It may be pleasant but I don�t know if I want your surprise.�
Draco stopped. �What?� he said, and he felt his mouth fall open.
�I�ve been worried about you, you . . . what have you done?�
�Wha . . . dis?� Draco screwed his eyes down at the stud.
�Please tell me that isn�t permanent?�
�Well, no, it�s not. It was a part of the surprise. It comes off with a charm!� Draco looked down at his boots.
�And this! This whole thing. I know you said were going to find a �solution� to our problem, but do you really think that you can just sit there in a pair of . . . if you think you can just sit there in those boots looking fetching and expect me to just have sex with you as if you haven�t been gone for a couple of days, you�ve got another thing coming. So, throw on some pajamas . . . and take your sexy little boots and your kinky little tongue ring and go sleep on the couch!�
Draco shuffled his foot and looked up at Harry. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt his lower lip curl down into a pout. He was pretty sure he�d never pouted in his life before, ever (well, maybe not ever, but defiantly not since hitting double-digit years in age, where he�d taken on the much more complex looks of �grimace,� �sneer,� and �leer�), but he was pouting now. Harry frowned in response. Draco shuffled his foot once more, a large shuffle, so that the metal studs on the boots could catch the candlelight. One of Harry�s eyes twitched.
�Okay, I guess I�ll just throw on some boxers and leave you alone.� Draco turned and swaggered away. He didn�t have to walk far before he felt Harry come up behind him and pinch his bare butt.
Draco turned and suddenly there was a delightful amount of him stripping off Harry�s clothing as Harry walked him down the hallway � There was a small bout of snogging halfway down the hallway as Harry pushed Draco up against the wall and caressed the boots (Draco just knew the boots would go over) � There was Harry pulling out his wand once again to cast a protective charm � There was more snogging, more walking down the hall, some stumbling into the bedroom, a little more undressing of Harry, then some lovely flopping onto the bed � There was some groping, then Draco was running his studded tongue all over Harry, letting it lap over Harry�s collar bones, glide and bump over Harry�s abdominal muscles, wriggle along the muscles inside Harry�s thighs, slip over his calves before finally running in between Harry�s toes, then Draco gently bit down on the stud, which turned on the vibration, and started to work his way up again � There was much gasping and moaning from Harry�s end � There was a little tongue play over the skin at the base of Harry�s penis, and then Draco was gently pushing Harry onto his stomach. He bit down on the stud to stop the vibrating and reached behind him. Pulling his wand off the nightstand where he�d left it, he pointed it at Harry�s bum and whispered a charm they�d often used on each other before sex, something that always made Draco feel fresh as a spring rain.
Draco reached around and gently pressed his mouth against Harry�s to kiss him deeply. He pushed the stud against Harry�s teeth so that it suddenly began to vibrate in between their mouths. A few intense moments passed before he pulled away and let his tongue slide down Harry�s body again. Then he was gently nipping at Harry�s left buttock.
�What are you doing now?� Harry gasped.
�Tttttuunuunuung,� Draco replied, letting his tongue slowly begin to skim right. He was about to let it gently slide home when Harry�s cheeks suddenly puckered and his pelvis pulled away from Draco�s mouth.
�Draco! What the hell are you doing?�
�Wahahahah. . .� Draco bit down on the stud to turn it off and sighed, thinking of his travels along Slatturn Way. �Let just say I was given some good advice, to use my tongue, but it got me to thinking, how can I use my tongue? What haven�t I done with my tongue? I mean, I�ve tasted every single patch of skin on your body, except. . .�
�Yeah, but . . . don�t you think it�s gross?�
�Well, no. I used that charm on you. You�re all squeaky clean now. So, you know, if you�d lie down I could . . .�
�No! Because I still think it�s gross, charm or not!�
�It�s not like I�m asking you to reciprocate. I would never ask you to do something to me that you weren�t comfortable with!�
�Yes, but why didn�t you ask me if I was comfortable with you doing that to me?�
�But it�s enjoyable! Well, I�ve heard it�s enjoyable. Look, I think if you give it a try you�ll��
�Must I give it a try?�
�Well, come on Harry, why the suddenly squeamishness? I don�t understand. It�s not like I haven�t had other parts of my body up there at various times.�
�That�s different and you should know that!�
�How is it different?� Draco felt his face suddenly flush. He was getting just a little annoyed.
�Well, maybe if you would use your tongue to talk to me once in a while instead of just deciding to fix the problem with some kind of kinky sex play you�d know how it was different!�
�You�re not making any sense!�
Harry pulled away, rolled off the bed, and grabbed some boxers to put on. �I�m sleeping on the couch. You can just go use your tongue on yourself tonight!�
�If I only could. I�d be a happy man then!� Draco called after Harry as he watched him walked out the bedroom door and slam it behind him.
It was about four in the morning when Draco woke up and realized that, maybe, just maybe, Harry was absolutely fucking right!
Draco had been having a very intense dream of him and Harry, of the first time they�d ever done anything. It had been after a Quidditch match and while both their houses were on one hand celebrating, on the other commiserating, they had snuck off to a quite spot to do both at once. It had been, at the time, the most unusual encounter Draco had ever experienced, since they�d talked their way through it. Or, at least, Harry had. �What are you doing, oh yes there, what�s that, oh my god, you just put your finger . . . wait, no, don�t take it out.� But Draco hadn�t been surprised. After all, their relationship had started with words. First mean little jibs at each other in the halls or up in the air during games. These turned into ever more hurtful and hateful insults, then one day, into threats. Then, one day, Draco went right up to Harry, and said close to his ear, �Watch your back, Potter, because if I ever catch you alone. . .�
�You�ll what?�
Draco had been at a loss. He�d been at a loss because he�d never realized just how very good his arch-nemesis Harry Potter smelled. So he said the first thing that came to mind. It was a form of torture that was most vile in its debauchery, but which had absolutely nothing to do with actual pain.
So the world began to fall apart, and they continued to jostle around with words, lewd words true. But other than that, not much changed. It had seemed like a terribly clever way to seduce Harry at the time. Keeping up the pretenses of hatred while at the same time, seeing Harry�s eyes go wide again and again at the implications of the each and every licentious note written on each and every scrap of paper Draco tossed Harry�s way.
So, what had ever happened to the all-talk no-walk Draco? He�d, of course, chucked that boy in favor of a neurotic twenty-three year old man who spent his days dreaming of hateful old codgers bickering in public. He knew Harry well enough to know Harry would hate him just running off like that. He also knew that sometimes Harry just hated it when he did something without them discussing it first. So, maybe he had being completely wrong-headed about the whole thing. Maybe he had missed out on a opportunity to dive into Harry�s deepest desires. If he�d only sat down with Harry, or even pulled him along beside him down Slatturn Way, what would have happened? Maybe he would have found out what really rolled around in his lover�s lewd little mind.
Of course, if that was true then he�d have to admit it, a idea which made him just a little peeved. But peeved was better then repressed, and he was well aware that he may have elicited the worst possible response from Harry with his actions. The one that meant them falling into a no sex or snogging of any kind rut.
Getting up, Draco pulled on his robe and walked out into the living room.
Harry was sitting hunched over on the couch. The television was on, but the volume was turned down low. The flickering lights were playing softly across Harry�s face, and he looked so peaceful. . . A little bit of drool had fallen down his chin.
Draco sat down next to him and pulled him close. Harry snuffled in his sleep and leaned into Draco�s body. His head brushed against Draco�s shoulder and then suddenly, he was waking up. He sat up, blurry eyed, and met Draco�s eyes.
�What�s wrong,� Harry whispered, his voice husky.
�You were absolutely right, Harry. When we couldn�t. . . well, I just got worried.�
Harry frowned at him. �What? What things? Why didn�t you say that something was bothering you?�
Draco shrugged. �I don�t know. Didn�t occur to me I suppose.�
�Well, tell me now.�
Draco cleared his throat and looked at his feet. He shrugged.
�Come on. I�m waiting.�
Draco looked away, sniffed and sort of shrugged. �Well . . .�
�If you don�t tell me what is on your mind right now, I�m going to tickle you. You know the place. That one spot right between your third and fourth rib,� Draco felt the tip of Harry�s finger trace one of the mentioned ribs. He shivered. �And I�ll keep doing it, no matter how much you wiggle or laugh, until you wet your . . .�
�Alright! It just seemed that if something didn�t change, our lives would get boring! That�s all.�
�What?� Harry sat back, his hands falling away from Draco.
�You know. I just thought that maybe, eventually, eighty years down the line, you�d wake up one morning and despise me because our lives had become too boring. And by that time I�d be too old to try to hold onto you. Already, it feels like all the magic�s bleeding out, Harry. What happens when all our magic is gone?�
Harry shook his head and leaned forward to kiss the corner of Draco�s mouth gently. �Draco, when did you become such an idiot. You never think before you act, and you never talk about things. You used to be such a . . . well, the Draco I went to school with was a master at running his mouth off. And sure, you sometimes followed through, but you were definitely more of a talker. Any more, you seem to be exactly the opposite. What changed?�
�I don�t know,� Draco said. And he really didn�t. �I just thought this is who you wanted me to be. You kept on showing me ways to live within your world, I figured you wanted me to fit in. Be. . . well, stop acting like some pure-blooded bigot and be what you were. You seemed to like me better when I wasn�t running my mouth off. You fell in love with the Draco that fought by your side and warmed your bed. The more I was with you, the more I wanted you to continue to like me. I just wanted to be a man you�d love forever.�
�Well, that�s funny, because I had already the decided the man who I would love forever was a pure-blooded bastard with a loud mouth and a sexy smile. I had already decided that since I loathed and despised you so very much, I must be in love with you. It all made perfect sense after the first time we had sex. Any more, I look around, and wonder what the hell happened to you. What happened to your sarcasm and your bluntness? What happened to the ass I loved?�
Draco swallowed and looked down at his own lap. �I�m sitting on it. I�m sorry.�
Harry burst out laughing! �See, that�s what I want! That right there. And when there�s something wrong, just say �Harry, something is wrong�. I�ll listen.� Harry poked Draco in the rib again.
�Okay.� Draco shrugged, his eyes still trained on his lap.
�I�ll listen.�
�I know!� Draco said, throwing his head back in exasperation then lowering it to meet Harry�s eyes.
�Good. And I expect no less of you. If I have problems, you better listen to them.�
�Of course.� Draco snaked an arm around Harry�s shoulder.
�And when we get in a rut, instead of running right off and scouting sex shops alone, you better promise to sit down and talk to me. Then we�ll both run off to scout through sex shops.�
�Of course.�
�Good!�
They sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Draco sighed.
�So, now that I�ve told you I was wrong and you�re right, now that I�ve laid out some of my worries, what else do you expect my tongue to say?�
�Nothing much. I figured we could give the talking a rest until tomorrow morning. After all, it�s late.�
�So, you�ll wait until morning for my apology?�
�Why would you need to apologize?� Harry asked, sitting up.
�Because you�re angry!�
�Do I seem angry to you?� Harry purred in response, letting his arms drift across Draco�s chest and his mouth gently nip at Draco�s shoulder. Draco looked down at Harry and found his head tilted back, expectant. Draco met Harry�s lips � Then they were kissing deeply. When Harry pulled away, it was with a yawn and a smile.
�I do like the tongue stud though.�
�You do?�
�Oh yes, it vibrates. I don�t know if I�ve mentioned it before, but I like things that vibrate.�
�Well, at least there�s that.�
�How does it come off again?�
Draco paused and thought back to his conversation with the shopkeeper. �I have no idea,� he finally said, his voice filled with shock.
Harry rolled his head back against Draco�s body and laughed, the muscles of his belly jerking with each guffaw.
�And that, right there, is yet another example of why I love you! I always will. Now, come on, before your tongue gets too tired and you take back your promise.�
Harry stood up and moved toward the bedroom. Leaning against the wall, he turned and winked at Draco over his shoulder.
�What, I actually get to use my tongue for something other than talking?�
�You better. You owe me. Just, you know, don�t do that thing you were going to do earlier.�
�Oh come on Harry, it�s really not that bad. Maybe we could keep it open for discussion?� Draco bent forward and gently let his tongue play over the back of Harry�s shoulder blade. The other man shivered.
�Well,� he said, his voice filled with uncertainty, but Draco was covering Harry�s mouth with his own and kissing him deeply. Harry bit the stud and it began to vibrate. �We�ll talk about it later,� he said, pulling away for just the barest of moments.
Draco smiled and pulled Harry into the bedroom � There was snogging and groping and much licking with the vibrating tongue stud � There was more snogging and then Draco took his show down Harry�s road to give him a blowjob, at which point Harry actually screamed, something he had never done before, not even when they did that thing with Draco lifting his leg just so and Harry leaning over him just so � There was more tongue play � Then Draco pulled out the rest of his brown paper bags to show off the other purchases, after which they had much in the way of lickably delicious times � And, finally, after far more than five minutes, Harry broke down and begged for Draco to do something with something other than his tongue, at which point they got down to some serious business.
And it wasn�t like rutting at all.
