Draco In Bed After S*x: See You Later, Alligator

Draco in bed after s*x: see you later, alligator

Harry:... You say that one more time and you're never seeing alligator again.

Harry : I have 99 problems and being with you can solve all of them

Draco: Aww

Draco : you need help

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “rewrite the stars” (350 words, M) - I’m going to have this song stuck in my head for days.

Waking up to Harry Potter in his bed was something Draco knew he’d never tire of. Fingertips traced patterns on his lower back, Harry’s heartbeat a steady rhythm in his ear.

“Morning,” Draco murmured, placing a kiss on the tattooed lilies that adorned Harry’s chest. 

“I don’t want to hide this anymore.” Harry’s voice was gruff, as if he’d been steeling himself for this admission. 

Draco pressed up, searching out Harry’s eyes with a frown. “I thought we said—”

“Fuck what we said, Draco. That was two years ago, when we were just fucking. This hasn’t been just fucking for a long time, and I’m tired of the secrets and the lying. I love you. No one else gets an opinion.”

“Except they do, Harry. Your family, the public. Everyone will have an opinion.” 

Harry pulled him in closer. “Why do you care so much about them?”

“You think I don’t want this?” Draco shook his head, arching away from the familiar heat of Harry’s body. “It’s easy within these walls. We’re just Harry and Draco here. But out there? You’re their Saviour, and I’m the Death Eater. They’ll never let us be happy.”

“They don’t get to dictate our happiness or our future, Draco. We write our own stories. And I want you in mine. Main character.” Harry’s eyes were bright and unrelenting.

Draco felt tears stinging his own eyes. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to burrow into Harry’s arms or run screaming for the hills. “They’re going to scare you away,” he whispered. 

“Draco, no.” Harry tilted his chin up and kissed him, holding his gaze. “I know who you are, all the darkest parts of you, and I love all of it. I know all of the mountains you’ve had to climb to become the man you are today. I’m not letting go of you—not now, not ever.

“Trust me,” he said, kissing Draco again. 

Draco exhaled shakily. “Merlin, okay. I do trust you. You’re going to have to be brave for the both of us, though.”

“I won’t let you down.” Harry grinned. “I promise.”

<< previous microfic >>

Look. At. Me.

Based on a late-night conversation with @dracoismytrashson. Betaed by the ever-wonderful @sassy-cissa 💚

“Look at me,” Draco said, sliding his fingers into Potter’s hair. Pulling with a bit more force than necessary. Just to tilt Potter’s head up. Just to tear a stifled groan from him. Draco straddled him, keeping him in place on the edge of his narrow Eighth Year dorm bed. He was down to only his white shirt. Potter was down to nothing.

“Look at me,” he said again, as Potter wrapped his arms around him, leaned back, pulling Draco on top of him. The breathtaking touch of skin on skin; the gut-melting hardness answering his own. Potter pushed Draco’s shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. The truth was, Draco was the one who couldn’t tear his gaze away. Ordering Potter to keep his eyes fixed on Draco’s was preferable to that admission. For seven years, all Draco had done was stare. The prospect of Potter catching him in the act had filled him with equal measures of hope and dread.

And now… Now Potter was his liaison affair fuck buddy experiment lover—Potter was his, for however long it would last. Now Draco had a valid excuse to demand Potter’s eyes on him, and Potter seemed content enough to comply.

Draco reached down and closed a hand around the hard cock leaking against his own. Potter’s eyes flicked down with a gasp.

“My face is up here, Potter,” Draco said. A sharp pull on Potter’s hair. Gorgeous green eyes lifting back to meet Draco’s, wide and lust-blown.

“Yes,” Draco hissed. “Like that. Don’t look away.”

He moved his fist around Potter. Potter smiled into his eyes.

“Draco… I couldn’t look away if I tried.”

So far my day today:

Feeling dead

Slipped from the sofa and fell on the floor.

Having crisis to pick myself back up

If, again, in future

She asked me who my type was.

We were half drunk, laughing and talking in my bedroom about the most absurd thing's ever but like the intoxication of alcohol buzzed in and we dimmed into cuddling next to one another staring up at my ceiling, she bought it up, carefully yet recklessly because we didn't talk about those things anymore. We stopped talking about it because she said it hurt both of us to talk about it, about what happened but that night she did, maybe because we were half drunk and I think both of our heart's would've allowed us to see through that pain or maybe it was just a reckless move because of that alcohol.

I looked at Pansy when she asked me who was my type and I shrugged.

"I can't be sure. I've never particularly thought about it."

But I think she figured I wasn't being completely honest.

The truth was Infact that I didn't know because I don't think I wanted to know. Knowing my type was scary because I was afraid that he was either too much of my type or not even close to my type. Or maybe I never even cared enough to know what my type was because it was all just a label for fantasies that hardly come true.

"But you must have a type? Even if in the most insignificant ways." She said.

I shrugged again and for the fun of it, I said, "I think guys with a good dressing sense."

We both laughed at it because it could've so easily been true, but then I added,

"I don't think I've ever thought about it that much you know. Liking girls made me have a type but being gay, I don't think I developed a type."

Then suddenly out of nowhere as if she could read my mind like an open book, she said, "Harry's your type, isn't he?"

I went silent, a small smile over my face, a sad small smile because she read it through me.

"Could be." I replied with a shrug again. Did I wanted to talk about it anymore, maybe but I didn't know how to without thinking that it'd hurt her talking about Harry with me.

"he is your only type, isn't he? Be honest."

I didn't deny. I nodded.

"I can't help the obvious truth, can I? He's all that I want, he's all that I look for, he's all that I think of. He's my type to the point that I even think I'm more Harry sexual than gay." I laughed towards the end and she gave me a smile.

"it hurts though, doesn't it?" She asked me.

I remained silent for a moment again and then I nodded, "I'm trying to move past it. That's all I can do."

She held my hand and caressed mine softly.

"If, again, in future."

That's all she said and I shrugged because I knew it was never going to happen, I didn't let the hope dwell anymore but I knew she was trying to console me, so I let her.

"I never gave much thought about men before Harry came along you know. Like I knew I was gay but when Harry came, I- just- knew, he was it." I said, maybe with a little tremor in my voice because she started holding my hand a little tighter.

"Oh, Draco- it'll be okay. One day."

I shrugged. I knew it but I never said it out loud to her that, that one day was what I was fearing more, the one day I would stop liking Harry Potter because perhaps liking him is all I've ever known in life and if I don't like him then maybe I'll forget who I was, what it was and maybe, somewhere I didn't want that. But I could not have said it out loud, I could not bore to see her face, or the way she would've held my hand and said all those things I already knew, all those beautiful things that would only make my heart yearn.

So instead,

"More?" I asked holding the bottle of alcohol and she nodded with a smile. And we got drunk again.

Tagging some people for the boost, please ignore <3

@drarrywords @phoebe-delia @chinike @elenaxoxo22 @thecornerofbelu @nv-md @littlebodybigheartttt @lilthislilthat @cissa-bee @cluelesspigeons @missdrarrydawn @harryandginnydeservesbetter @draco-lucious-potter @ravena-wrote @textrovert-01 @silver-de-vonne

Did I write it when I was half drunk? Yeah.