Chapter Text
Draco's thumb glides across the sticky surface of his phone screen, pausing at his favourite parts and then scrolling again.
Useless.
The word stands out screaming at him, bold and fluorescent - almost like the LED bulb flickering above his head, barely illuminating the dingy bathroom stall.
Pathetic.
He squeezes the base of his cock, not very far from the the blunt, hooded head. He can't properly grip his cock, there is not much of it for him to hold.
He licks his spit-slick lip and tastes blood. Harry had told him not to use silencing charms. He had told him to lock himself up in a stall, drop his trousers around his ankles and wank his little dick, till he's leaking desperately, just about dying to come.
He's not allowed to come.
The cock head is flushed red, warm and weeping. He tucks his phone under his chin, holding it against his chest, and fists his cock with both hands, building up a rhythm as he starts pumping.
There are people at the urinals. Draco could see their shoes through the gap under the paper-thin plastic door. They are talking, and occasionally laughing. Typical drunk nonsense.
Draco pretends thay are laughing at him.
Shame burrows deep under his skin and prickles. He swallows down a moan and picks up pace, deft fingers working his tiny length.
Uselessnotinguselessuselesspathet-
Fat drops of precome oozes from the tip, slicking him up. Heat pools under his belly, his balls draw up, aching for a release - aching for Harry's warm, inviting channel, slick with lube and stretched out from his biggest toys.
Draco is not big enough nor thick enough for Harry. He could never satisfy him with his tiny cocklet.
Harry deserves the world, he deserves to be fucked within an inch of his life, to be held down and pounded deep and hard with a cock that is bigger and thicker than Draco's. He deserves to be bred and pumped full of come over and over and over again.
He deserves everything Draco couldn't give him.
They're laughing at you.
Uselessuselessusele-
His fingers move frantically, chasing release, and just as he feels the climax building, he let's go and drops his hands on his thighs. His little dick twitches against his stomach - not even tall enough to reach his belly button, sad little spurts of precome, stark against his flushed skin.
Draco resists the urge to hump the toilet seat to completion, positively gagging for a release. He's been wanking and edging for thirty minutes. He needs to cum.
His shoes dig into the bathroom tiles, toes curling, as he waits out the high. He counts to three and then counts to five and keeps counting till his breathing is under control.
The gent's is clear by the time he tucks his cock into his trousers - still sodden and soggy with shame - and walk up to the sink.
"You're pathetic." He tells the wrecked mess in the mirror, splashing his flushed face with water, the cold a welcome reprieve on his hot sticky skin. He exits the gent's, feeling like he's two inches tall.
Harry is lounging against the bar, chatting up the bartender, flashing him a charming smile, eyes crinkled at the corner, dimples on full display.
Harry never looks at Draco like that.
Several glasses of drinks are lined up on the counter, beside Harry's elbow. Draco would bet his wand that Harry didn't pay for those.
He walks up behind him and waits, eyes downcast. He doesn't dare sit on the barstool next to him.
Harry ignores him, continuing to flirt with the bartender.
He would have a bigger dick, Draco subtlety eyes the bulge pressing up against the tight pants. He would have a dick that would satisfy Harry. Unlike his tiny cocklet. He clenched his hand in a fist and waits.
"Did you wank that fucking thing like I asked you to?" He asks, not bothering to lower is voice. He's staring longingly at the bartender's crotch, as the man walks away.
"Yes Harry."
"Fuck, what a loser. You'd do just about anything I tell you to, won't you?"
"Yes Harry." Shame clings to his skin, scorching and frosty, at the same time.
Harry huffs in disappointment and takes a sip of his fire whisky. He swivels in his seat, finally, finally glancing back at him. His face screws up in disgust, Draco is not sure if it is from the taste of fire whiskey or from the sight of him.
Harry does not like fire whiskey.
Harry only likes Draco when he is fucking him.
"How big do you think he is?" He asks, pointing at the door, the bartender disappeared behind.
"Bigger than Aryan." Draco admitted, quiet and reluctant.
Aryan is Harry's biggest toy, both in length and girth.
"I thought so. Too bad it's attached to a man."
Too bad you don't have a cock that could satisfy me.
Draco swallows around the guilt growing in his throat, looking down at his shoes, wet from his earlier escaped. Embarrassment crawls up his spine, sinking deep into his belly. His dicklet twitches in his pants, dirty and cold.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Sorry for not being enough.
Sorry you can't have the cock you desire.
Sorry I am so useless.
"Whatever." Harry rolls is eyes, taking a long swig of his whiskey. The air grows thicker with his frustration. Draco can't breathe. He's failed Harry, he keeps failing him. He can't breathe, he's choking on Harry's displeasure.
"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to do.
"Shut up," Harry slams the glass on the counter, harder than necessary, grabbing Draco by the collar, he yanks him down. The intoxicating tang of whiskey on his breath, and the smell of salty oranges nearly pushes him over the edge. The quiet anger simmering inside those emerald eyes is definitely not helping.
"Just leave. Go home, and wait for me in position. Simple instruction. Don't fuck it up."
He stumbles, barely catching himself on the counter, when Harry let go of his collar, wiping his hands on a paper napkin.
Draco couldn't leave quick enough.
He rushes to the apparition point, as fast as his trembling knees would allow, scurrying past the warm, sweaty bodies moving around the club.
Heart pounding in his chest, he pauses at the exit, hoping to catch Harry's eyes, and that devilish half smirk gracing his lips, whenever he orders Draco around.
Except, when he turns back, Harry is not looking at him, he's talking with the bartender, again.
He's talking with someone who's dick is not two inches long.
He's talking with someone who is twice the man, Draco could only hope to be.
Don't come. Don't come. Don't fucking come. You have one job you useless thing.
Harry won't abandon him for that guy, he'd bet a million galleon on that. It doesn't matter how big of a cock he has. It doesn't matter how interesting or charming he is. He's not Harry's type. No one in this bar is Harry's type.
Harry does not fuck with men. Or women. He doesn't fuck with people, in general.
Harry only ever fucks toys. He owns a large collection of sex toys that he loves. Every last one of his toys is named, adored and respected.
Draco is Harry's cheapest, least favourite, least respected toy.
Humiliation slams into him, punching the air out of his lungs. Blood rushes south, as he turns on his feet and apparates straight into Harry's bedroom.
-
Draco stumbles on his feet, catching himself on the bedpost - Harry, like a true Gryffindor has a four-poster bed, standing squarely in the middle of the room. Scarlet and sparkly gold curtains hang off the canopy frame, pulled back and tied to each posters.
Kicking off his shoes, he shuffles to the centre. The mattress sinks under his weight, as he repositions himself to lay down, legs hanging over the foot of the bed.
They've never talked about buying a bigger bed to accommodate Draco's overgrown limbs.
Quickly, he reaches down to unzip his trousers, pulling his cock and balls out through the fly - the rest of him did not matter, he's not allowed to undress when they fuck.
He doesn't know how long he's been waiting like that, but when the front door slams opens, his legs are numb and tingling.
A voice resounded in his head - familiarly snooty and self-important - reminding him how his lovers before Harry used to treat him better. They would revere him, make love to him. There was a time he would be lavished with sweet affection and expensive gifts.
Another voice, older and bitter, argued that these days Harry's the only person to even look at him.
Even if their relationship lacks coy glances and sweet seduction, he would lay there and take whatever Harry gave him - anything to restore the Malfoy name to it's former glory.
He'd stopped believing that lie since the first time Harry had tied him to a chair and rode him dry until sunrise to sunset.
"So pretty." Harry's whispers, amused and insincere. He stumbles into the room, catching himself on the doorframe. He looks pleasantly tipsy and throughly snogged.
"It's cute." He mocks. In one fluid move he takes off his shirt and throws it across the room, he doesn't look where it lands. He can't take is eyes off Harry, or his messy hair sticking up like someone had run their fingers through it. "Looks smaller too, did it shrink?"
Draco cranes his neck, dazed and painfully aroused. He admires the gorgeous plane of Harry's naked muscular chest, smatterd with curly black hair. He traces the trail of hair with his eyes, and bites back a groan when it disappears under Harry's jeans.
Merlin, he's perfect.
How could a man like Harry even stand to look at him?
"Humans are complicated, Malfoy" He remembers a younger Harry telling him. "Too much emotions. You on the other hand..."
"When I touch you, it's like flicking a switch, you don't put a lot of thought behind it, because it's meaningless. You're out of mind even when you're in sight."
"You can stay. As long as you let me get my rocks off with you."
And Draco had stayed. He had nowhere else to go.
A sharp tug at his balls breaks him out of his reverie. He yelps, instinctively, cradling his family jewels.
"I asked you a question Malfoy." Harry tutted, slapping his hands away. He reaches for Draco's balls, rolling them between his fingers, as though willing the sting away.
"Yes, Harry." He winced, "It shrunk by two centimetres."
"Mhmm. We need to get you a smaller cock cage." He mutters,
Draco's cheeks burn. He hates going cage shopping with Harry. Every cage downsize trip, ends with the pretty blond behind the cash register smirking at him while he flirts with Harry. They walk out of the store with his pride fractured further, a bag with his new cage, the inevitable new dildo for Harry and the cashier's lipstick smears across Harry's neck.
Draco takes a deep breath and resists the urge to cover his little dick - twitching and flopping around like a fish out of water.
"Yes Harry." He nods along, because what else can he do, disagree?
"Mhmm." Slowly, Harry drags his fingers up to his cock, blunt nail grazing sensitive skin. His entire length disappears into Harry's palm. Draco can't help but arch off the bed, bucking into Harry's fist.
He can feel the disdain rolling off Harry in waves and yet, it doesn't quell his arousal. If anything, he's only closer to coming right now.
"Pull yourself together." Harry barks. He pulls back Draco's foreskin, exposing the pink sensitive head to Harry's cruel fingers. He rubs his fingers over the head, circling his sensitive slit.
Draco twitches, panting and humping as his nerves fell raw and like they are on fire.
"We're only getting started, and you're already thinking about your pleasure. Selfish snob."
Draco shakes his head, "I'm not." He mutters.
Harry raises a mocking eyebrow, sneering down at him, "What was that?" He tugs at Draco's balls, pulling them away from his body, a shark like grin distorting his beautiful dimples.
Draco looks down at his chest, he doesn't say anything. Couldn't say anything, with his chin wobbling and throat closing right up. He whines again, when he catches a glimpse of his poor testicles, separated on the wedge between Harry's thumb and forefinger, pulled so tight, he's sure he can't come now, even though he ached for sweet sweet release.
"God, shut up." Harry snarled.
He let go of Draco's cock and balls to pull his own trousers down, slipping out of a blood red jockstrap of all things.
"It's already difficult enough to get it up with you. Your insolent garbles is the last thing I wanna hear when I'm trying to get dicked down."
Harry straddles his hip, towering over him naked and gorgeous. His thighs rest against Draco's hip bone one either side.
"Here." Draco choked down on his spit as Harry jammed his jockstrap into his mouth, "Pig out on your favourite treat. Now shut up and fuck me."
Harry reached back to guide Draco's tiny cock between his cheeks and plonks down without prep or spell. Draco draws his knees in to support Harry's back, while he melts into the quilt, surrounded by Harry's heat and his delectable taste on his tongue. His mouth feels dry, like cotton and he can't help but suck on the fabric wringing it for every last drop of Harry's come.
"Oh you filthy slut, you're drooling. Do I taste that good?" Harry tightens his hold around Draco's neck and slams down on his cock, "After you left, the bartender took me to the back alley and snogged me till I came humping his thighs."
"You." Harry's words were starting to fade into a dull distant roar, as he slams Draco's head into the pillow over and over again, to emphasise his frustrations with him, "And your shrimp dick could never."
Draco whines, struggling to breathe, with the jock around his mouth and Harry's fingers squeezing his neck. He fists the sheets and bucks his hip to thrust into Harry's heat.
He. Cannot. Feel. A. Thing.
Merlin, he was not even big enough to prep him for Aryan anymore.
Fighting back embarrassing tears, Draco doubled down on his effort and really fucks into Harry, his movements getting slower and slower as he's worn down by exhaustion and the sheer humiliation of being consumed in Harry's heat but not feeling even the phantom touch of Harry walls.
"How do you fell darling?" Harry whispers, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his ears. He removes the makeshift gag from his mouth, and throws it somewhere into the room.
"Not good. Can't feel you." Draco cried, gasping for air, pleasure and Harry
"Then imagine how fucking bad it's for me." Harry whispered, sliding over Draco's cock.
Draco's gaze snaps up to meet Harry's and guilt smacks into him knocking him out of breath.
Selfish snob
Harry's curls flop around as he moves, chasing pleasure that he'll never get. Not with Draco. His stomach contracts and ripples as he bounces, fingers digging into Draco's chest, curled up in frustrated anger. His eyes shine angry, and lethal, and like he very much wants to snap Draco's neck for not being enough. And Draco...
He doesn't know how to please a man like Harry Potter.
Staring down at Draco, Harry sighs before shifting his body until he's laying down beside Draco. Harry curls into him, resting his head on Draco's shoulders breathing out unevenly, almost in sync with his own breathing.
Soon enough, Harry pulls his knees into his chests, he holds up two fingers to Draco and suddenly they're glistening with the slick texture of the lube charm. Draco bites back a whimper when Harry reaches down to press his fingers against his slicked up hole.
Failurefailurefailurefailur-
"My fingers need lube Malfoy." His words are spoken calmly, between jagged sighs and moans, "otherwise I would tear myself."
Shrimpdickshrimpdickshrimpdi-
Staring deep into Draco's eyes, Harry bottoms out on his fingers, mouth falling open in blissed out whines.
"Now that's pleasure." Harry's eyes roll back and his speech is half delirious, "You don't get to feel that, spineless worms like you should never have the pleasure of sex. You wish it was your cock fucking me don't you? But you can't, You physically cannot fuck me. Nasty aristocratic worms who served Voldemort do not get to fuck me. You should be grateful I even let you put your useless dicklet in me."
Draco is transfixed, he's shamelessly staring as Harry's thick fingers - thicker than his cock - disappears into this delicious hole, slick and gaped, to always avoid contact with his cock. He feels the weight of Harry's words sink like lead in his stomach. The dark mark itches, despite being inactive for years.
He feels stripped down and bare eventhough he's the one who's fully clothed.
"Harry please." His voice cracks as he let's the tears spill, "Please. Give me one chance. I'll make you feel good promise." He stares up at the canopy, too ashamed to meet Harry's all knowing eyes.
"Yeah right." Harry snorts, continuing to piston his fingers - there's three finger now, Salazar - in and out of his puffy hole. "You are a fucking disappointment Malfoy, accept it."
Draco's sure he's more turned on by insulting Draco than fucking his fingers.
But then again, Harry only ever insults him when he's out of his mind horny, otherwise Draco's as good as home decor.
Out of mind even when in sight.
"I know. Please. I'll use Aryan-"
SLAP
The slap comes as a shock, landing hot and heavy on Draco's unprotected cock. He shoots up, a surprised yowl. His cocklet twitched in Harry's vice grips, leaking an absurd about of precome, pooling in the middle of Harry's palm.
He curled his fingers and have Draco a couple of quick, squelchy stores. Realising that Draco was enjoying, whatever that is, Harry landed another slap, this time, aiming to hit both his cock and balls.
Slaps soon turned into kicks and next thing Draco knew he was on the floor, curled over himself on his side. His stomach hurts as does his cock and his thighs and his hip from when he fell.
Harry rolls over to the edge, peering down at Draco, pumping his own hard and leaky cock. Harry's face contorts in disgust, before he spits. The glob falls smack in the middle of his left cheek. His breath stutters as wave after wave of half sobs, half gasps tore out of him.
"Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!"
Draco bit the inside of him forearm to stop the sounds, yet his shoulders shook as his heart ponded on his chest, begging for air.
"God, just how conceited are you Malfoy? use Aryan as if." Harry shoves himself off the bed, and Draco coils into his fetal position, protecting his abused groin. Harry doesn't notice him flinch away, instead he marches to the closest and yanks the doors open, rifling through it, roughly tossing things aside. He pulls something out with a triumphant hum.
The back of Draco's head connects with the wooden bed frame and the edges of his vision fades to black. Harry looms over him, gloriously naked and his cock right up in Draco's face. A cock he's not allowed to touch. "Stop snivelling. Spread your legs." Harry shoves his legs apart and crouches between them.
Draco's unsure of his cock is throbbing from pain or merlin forbid, pleasure.
Oh how the mighty has fallen.
"This." Harry snatches Draco's sore dick and pulls it way from his testicles, "Is all you are and all you will ever be to me. A pathetic pair shrivelled up penis and testicles."
Blunt fingers dig into his sensitive skin and the pain builds until his nerves are on fire, stealing the air from his lungs. He rocks back and slams his head against the wooden frame. Once. Twice. And for the first time in a long while he wonders if death of better than this.
Stop being dramatic. It's just a little pain. You've killed for less. Tortured for worse.
Harryislookingatyouharryislookingatyouharryislookingatyouharryislooki-
"Now this." From under his lashes, he catches Harry pull something from his back. Something big, pink and gleaming.
Aryan
"Look how majestic he looks. So beautiful." Harry's voice takes on an airy lilt. His eyes soften around his edges while his pupils are blown wide.
Reverence and administration. For a sex toy. Never for him.
As if sensing his line of thought, Harry smacks his cock again, with the dildo.
"Please Harry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please... please."
Please stop.
Please don't stop.
Please fuck me.
Please let me suck you.
Please kiss me.
Please let me fuck you again, I'll do better.
Please stop.
Please it hurts.
Please forgive me.
Please absolve me of my sins until I'm yours in mind, body and soul.
Please.
"Aryan is eons better than your sorry ass and you know it. You are the object getting used. You are the property when Aryan fucks me six ways to sunday. Don't you dare ever insinuate that you have any control over my toys. Am I understood?" Harry's voice is calm, but his naked frame shakes with the frustration of an orgasm delayed.
He grabs a fistful of Draco's sweaty hair, forcing him to look down. His other hand was holding up the dildo next to his poor cock - abused enough to burn just as bright as the hot pink sex toy. He doesn't need a mirror to know that his cheeks are also flushed the same shade.
"What're you?"
"Nothing. I'm nothing."
"What about Aryan?"
"H-he's better than me. More than. He's m-my superior. I submit to him."
"That's right." Harry breathes into his face, letting go of his hair. "There's a good boy. You're learning your place around here. You submit to my toys."
"Yes Harry."
"Good boy." Harry shoves off the floor, putting Draco's head. His cock, glistening with precome and sweat was once again pressed close to his face. With much restraint, he shifts his face, gazing out the window. He cannot take anymore punishment today.
"Good boy. Now get up." Harry pulls at his shirt collar, forcing him to kneel. "Up. Kneel, chest to bed."
Knees scraping on the rug, Draco goes where Harry tugs. He hunches over, till his chest was flat against the mattress.
"There you go." Harry sighs into his ears, his warm breath fanning out across Draco's burning cheeks. The vowels roll out of tongue saccharine sweet, spelling trouble.
"I was planning to lock your itty bitty dicklet and screw Aryan onto the cage, but clearly you need help remembering tour place in this household. I'm going to fasten a strap around your thick head and attach the didlo to the back. You're going to be a good darling and hold your position, while I fuck my toy. I don't care if you suffocate and die. Got it?"
Draco bites the sheets and whimpers as his orgasm tears through him. Soon enough, his pulsing dicklet is shooting ropes and ropes of cum all over his trousers and under the bed.
"God, what a mess." Harry mutters, securing the dildo into the strap, the base resting on the back of Draco's head.
Harry's large hand sneaks under the collar of his shirt, as he straddles Draco's upper back, knees on either side of his head bracketing his ears. The weight of Harry's cock, settles on the nape of his neck, tip touching the dildo's base.
He doesn't need a mirror to know that he looks stupid with the dildo sitting on his head like a crown of shame and inadequacy, loaded with the responsibility to serve Harry, like any good monarch serves their nation.
"Stay still." Harry maneuvers himself to sit on the tip of the dildo.
Thighs still quivering from his orgasm, Draco stretches his hands out, grabbing the sheets for dear life. Harry's weight slowly descending on him, pressing his face into the mattress, only makes it harder for him to balance.
Do. Not. Fuck. Up.
Harry sighs and groans, wiggling around until Aryan is halfway into him. Draco can tell because, halfway through is when Harry requires, litres of lube to keep going, the same vanilla scented lube that was now dripping from Harry's hole and on his hair, slowly trickling down the side of his face.
"Fuck me, Malfoy. Fuck Aryan into me. C'mon, do something. Useless git." Harry grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling his head up to drive the dildo deeper.
An image flashes behind his eyes. A memory from the summer before Voldemort. He remembers heat clinging to his skin - his first tan and eventual sunburn.
Mateo's warm hands grasping his, dragging him along streets that smell like earth and spices.
He remembers an open ground stadium, ducking under crowded wooden bleachers, kissing, swaying to brassy and loud music almost drowned out by the cheers.
"The bull is fierce and uncontrollable," Mateo shouts into his ears - already hard of hearing from the spirited commotion. "Like you, cariño."
"What's the point?" He'd asks, flushed and happy.
"I don't know. Accomplishing the impossible?" Mateo shrugs, and Draco imagines a spring wedding.
Draco remembers feeling sorry for the bull. But then he sees it charge into the arena, flinging riders into the sky. Nothing and nobody could hold it down.
Only, his hair is not a flank strap and he is no bull.
Mateo knew him for six mere summer weeks, he was supposed to get a thing or two wrong about Draco.
Harry's thick, heavy balls bit the back of his head. Draco groaned, bobbing his head up and down, awkwardly trying to find the rhythm to fuck the dildo into Harry. It was difficult, with his bones still liquid from the unexpected orgasm. But he persisted, straining his neck to pleasure Harry, until he was cramping and panting into the mattress.
"Oh fuck," Harry moaned, and Draco could tell that the dildo was all the way in, sitting right on top of Harry's needy little prostrate, "Oh fuck, don't stop. Don't you dare s-stop, you motherfucker. Keep writhing like the pathetic worm that you are, fu-ahh fuck him into me. Fuck, yeah."
Harry rolls his hip down, his entire weight comes crashing into Draco's head, as his knees buckled. Draco grunted, breathing becomes harder with his face smooshed into the sheets; gross and damp with his sweat, tears, and slobber.
"We s-haa should do t'is more 'ften. You've never fucked me this good before. Ox'gen is a great motivation, innit?"
Spurred on by Harry's delirious moans and slurring words, Draco picked up pace, despite his discomfort. He bobbed his head, driving the dildo deeper and harder.
"S-stupid Slytherin bitch. Slimey death eater worm. House 'mblem should be a worm, not a snake."
Harry's close. Draco could feel that he's tethering on the edge of an orgasm.
Draco sobs into the sheets, humping his sensitive dicklet againt the wooden frame, the sharp edges of the zipper bites into his testicles. He's so hard, Merlin he's so hard.
"F-hngh, please harder." Harry slammed his hips down, working his thighs to take the dildo harder and faster.
"Fuck.That's what I'm talking about." Draco's entire world narrows down to the weight of Harry on his back, his thick cock thumping on Draco's forehead, every now and then. "You could never. You couldn't ever fuck me like this."
"M'sorry." Draco cries, frustration and anger creeps in and settles over him, hot and sticky.
Whenever he feels Aryan breaching Harry's hole, his own hole flutters in excitement, hungry for cock.
Harry's perfect cock, that he's not allowed to touch or kiss.
"I don't want your nasty mouth that has kissed and worshipped Voldemort anywhere near me or my toys. Don't even think about kisses or blow jobs. I don't care if you can suck me to death and back, keep your disgusting mouth away from me."
"You wish this is you, don't you? Fucking me? Getting a massive dick drilled into you?" Harry snarls, "Your gluttony sickens me, Malfoy."
Draco tries to nod, bucking up into him. Harry whimpers loud and long, his nails digging into Draco's cheeks. His thighs spasm around Draco's head and he's cumming in fat ropes making a complete mess of the bed and him.
Harry slumps forward, rolling away from Draco and sprawling out on the bed.
"Fuck," Harry sighs into a pillow.
Draco squirms, still on his knees, getting used to Harry's absence from his person. His cock hurts, twitching sadly as he rides the edge of his ruined orgasm.
He started cumming just as Harry moved away from him, it would have been mortifying to keep humping the bed after he'd helped get Harry off.
He claps a hand over his mouth, to muffle the onslaught of sob-hiccups building in his throat. It's not wise to disturb Harry when he's basking in the afterglow of an Aryan orgasm.
He doesn't know how long he stays like that, when a large warm hand crawls up his spine, settling on his head.
Harry scratches the skin behind his ear, running soothing circles on his scalp where he'd pulled earlier. "Good job," he murmurs, soft and admirable.
Oh? That's new. Hope fluttered in his chest. Perhaps...?
"You did a good job." His calloused fingers, weave around his hair, reaching over to snap the buckle. The strap loosens, and the dildo falls off his head and into Harry's awaiting hands. "Fuck Aryan, you're such a life saver."
Oh.
Fuck. Of course.
Why did he- why did he even- fuck.
From the corner of his eyes, he watches Harry bring the dildo up to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss, "What would I do without you? Probably try to clench down on Malfoy's useless two centimetre cocklet."
Harry nudges his face with his foot, shoving the soiled dildo into his face, "C'mon Malfoy, show him some gratitude. Thank him. He's the reason I could even stand to have you around."
Mouth dry, he swallows around several shards of his denied humanity, "Thank you Aryan," he whispers, digging his nails into his thighs, "Thank you for satisfying Harry. For doing a better job of what I should have done."
"Tell him what you are."
"I'm a worm. Nothing. I'm a failure."
Draco's breath is knocked off his lungs as he's kicked off the bed for the second time that night.
"Worms live in soil Malfoy. They roll around in muck all day. Isn't that right? You should know the answer, you were in class when Hagrid covered Flobberworms." Harry's sitting on the edge, dangling his legs, swinging them closer and closer as if he might kick Draco, again.
"Yes Harry." He finches, when Harry smacks the dildo into his palm, come and lube splattering all over them.
"Don't piss yourself, I won't throw you into the garden." He sighs. He's casting several industrial strength cleaning charms; on himself, the sheets, and the dildo, fluffing and arranging the pillows and blanket, "But, I don't want you on my bed anymore."
Harry flops down, snuggling into his pillow, he gently lays Aryan on Draco's pillow, pulling the blankets over them; him and Aryan.
"You can crawl under my bed when you have to sleep."
Draco snaps his eyes shut and nods, "Yes Harry."
"Well," He hums in satisfaction snuggling into his makeshift pillow fort, "you're dismissed for the night."
Draco counts to three, then gets up on wobbly knees. He moves around the room, stumbling on his feet, collecting Harry's discarded clothes. He dumps everything in the hamper and looks down at his own mess. His cock was still out, the remnants of his shame crusted and clinging to barely there public hair. He should change his trousers, and pants, and probably his shirt too.
He doesn't do that.
He crawls under the bed, and stretches his limbs - it's a better fit than the bed ever was. He closes his eyes and breathes, convincing himself that he's out of breath and no his heart is not breaking.
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