Gritting his teeth and pacing around his living room, Harry attempted to control his temper. He pinched the bridge of his nose and hoped his voice wouldn’t shake with his anger as he said, “I’ve told you this a hundred times, Draco. Oliver says...”

“Damn Oliver Wood! Damn Puddlemere United and damn you!”

Harry bit his tongue and counted to ten as he wrestled with the urge to hex his boyfriend’s bollocks into oblivion. Taking a deep breath, Harry said, “I’m sorry that I have to travel, Draco. Being left alone here so often must be hard on you. Being involved with a Quidditch player isn’t easy. But, why must we go through this every single time I have to go away for a match?”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Harry walked across the room towards his boyfriend, who had been standing near the fireplace. “You know I love you, and that I’d never leave your side for even a moment if it were up to me.”

Crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from Harry, Draco whined, “But it is up to you!”

“Draco...”

This was a debate the lovers had been having for as long as they’d been together. Harry had signed on as a Seeker for Puddlemere United as soon as his “Eighth Year” had been completed. Many witches and wizards had been disappointed that Harry did not see through his plan to become an Auror, but after the horrors of the war, the death and the blood, the last thing Harry wanted to do was chase dark wizards for the rest of his life.

Flying was as natural as walking to Harry, and being in the air set him free like nothing else could. So when Oliver Wood had come to Harry as the newly appointed manager of Puddlemere United asking him to sign on as the team’s Seeker, Harry jumped at the opportunity. Harry’s boyfriend, however, had not been so enthusiastic.

“I hate this!” Draco screeched, whipping around to glare at Harry. “I hate that you are constantly running here and there with your team! Having meals with your team. Celebrating victories with your team. Not to mention showering with all those muscled up troglodytes that look at you like you’re some juicy steak just waiting to be eaten!”

Harry couldn’t stop one corner from his mouth from lifting in a faint smile. Draco really was irresistible when he was jealous.

“Don’t you dare smirk at me, Harry James Potter!” Draco leaned toward his boyfriend with his hands curled into fists at his side. “You know damn well that several of the wizards on your team follow you around with their tongues hanging out, drooling like lovesick puppies!”

Harry had to bite his bottom lip to prevent himself from being seized by a fit of laughter. “Juicy steak? Lovesick puppies? Really?”

Draco sniffed and picked an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. “Well, maybe lovesick puppies is going a bit far,” the blond said as he wound his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and pulled Harry close, “but I have every right to be jealous.”

“You might have the right, but you should know by now that you certainly don't have any reason to be jealous,” Harry said before kissing Draco softly. His voice became low and warm as he rested his forehead against his lover’s and whispered, “You are the most handsome wizard to ever live.”

Draco’s cheeks flushed a sweet shade of pink. “You really think so?”

“Don’t be so coy,” Harry said with a smile. “You know you can make me hard just by looking at me.”

Lifting a brow in amusement, Draco asked, “Just looking at you?”

Harry nodded and gently pushed Draco’s back to the silk-lined wall, thrusting his hips forward just enough for Draco to feel the evidence of Harry’s arousal.

“See?” Harry purred. “See what you do to me?”

Draco raised one leg and wrapped it around Harry’s hip. “You’re just easy,” Draco said.

“Only for you,” Harry said, his voice husky with lust. “You own me, heart and soul.”

Shifting his head so that it rested on Harry’s shoulder, Draco said, “Your arse belongs to me, too. Don’t forget that.” To illustrate his point, Draco’s hand ran down Harry’s back to cup one firm buttock.

Kissing the pale neck that Draco so prettily offered and delighting in the reaction from his lover, Harry forgot all about the argument.

Later that night, Draco’s body was tangled with Harry’s in the nest of bed linens they had somehow made a shambles of in the course of their lovemaking. It was a wonderful feeling to just lay with Harry in the black stillness of night, listening to his breathing and feeling his chest rise and fall underneath his palm.

“I really hate that you have to go,” he whispered softly into the darkness of their bedroom. “I’m going to miss you.”

Harry rolled onto his side and wrapped a strong arm around Draco’s slim waist. “It’s only for two days. You won’t have time to miss me.”

“That’s what you think,” Draco said, his tone serious. “I really do worry about you.”

It was a few moments before Harry finally said, “We knew when we started this that our relationship wouldn’t be easy.”

“I know,” Draco said, “and not just because of Quidditch.”

“It’s like we have to take on the entire world everyday, you and I,” Harry whispered.

Draco gave a slight shrug. “We shocked a lot of people.”

“Sod them all,” Harry said. “I love you, and if someone doesn’t understand that, it’s their problem, not ours.”

“What’s not to love?” Draco asked with a saucy wink. “The world can go to hell for all I care.”

“To hell,” Harry agreed, placing a soft kiss on Draco’s shoulder and tightening his grip around the blond’s lithe body. “So, let’s rub their noses in it a bit, yeah? Please come with me to the match. I can’t stand to be without you, even for a night. And there’s this ball in honour of Intercontinental Quidditch or some rubbish, and you love those things, don’t you?”

Even though Harry couldn’t see Draco in the weak moonlight streaming in from the window without his glasses, he knew Draco was chewing his thumbnail. He always bit his thumbnail when he was nervous or thinking something over.

“Really, Draco, come with me. It’ll be brilliant.”

Draco sighed and positioned himself on his side so that he could better face his lover. Propping his head on his hand he asked, “And what would I do? Sit with the wives of the other players? Talk about how exciting it is to be married to a...”

Damn, Harry thought, we’re back to this again.

The sudden silence felt oppressive and heavy in the stillness of the night. “You know I would marry you today if I could,” Harry whispered. “Stupid laws...”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Draco said. Harry could hear the shakiness in his lover’s voice, and it wounded him. “Just one more thing we’ve been over a million times.”

“But I really would change this if I could. I’ve talked to the Ministry I don’t know how many times, trying to get them to allow us to bond. We’ll get there someday, Draco. We’ve just got to keep fighting.”

Harry felt Draco nodding. “I know.”

Exhaling loudly and stretching like a cat, Harry fell back onto his back, pulling Draco on top of him. “Please come with me. It will feel so good to have you there. You know I play better if you’re watching me.” His wound both arms around Draco’s lower back and raised his head to kiss Draco softly. “Please,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

Draco flattened his palms on Harry’s pillow, one hand on each side of his lover’s head, and raised himself up. “Okay, you win. I’ll go.”

Whooping for joy, Harry wriggled beneath Draco.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to remind some of those brutes you play with that you belong to me. And I do love the way you look in dress robes. A ball in honour of Intercontinental Quidditch, did you say? What colour shall I wear?”

Shaking with laughter, Harry flipped Draco onto his back and quickly covered his boyfriend’s body with his own. “I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and whispered, “I love you, too.”

They strolled hand in hand towards the front desk at the Charmed Inn hotel, smiling, relieved that they had finally arrived. The United States was a fair distance from London and travelling there took more than a little effort. But four Apparations and one long broom ride later, Harry and Draco were ready for some dinner and a warm, cosy bed.

Harry called out pleasantly to the raven-haired witch behind the desk. “Hello. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy checking in, please. I believe Oliver Wood has made arrangements for us?”

“Certainly, Mr. Potter. Everything is in order,” she said as she placed a piece of parchment on the desk and pushed it towards Harry. Handing him a quill, she continued, “Just sign at the bottom and I’ll get your keys.”

Harry quickly signed the parchment and slid the paper back to the witch. She smiled and leaned forward as she whispered, “This is exciting, isn’t it? A team as great as Puddlemere, playing us right here in Fitchburg, Massachusetts!”

Harry chuckled and the witch’s cheeks bloomed with colour as she apologized. “I’m sorry, but I really am a huge Quidditch fan.”

“That’s alright,” Draco said, his voice like ice. “Just give us the key to our room and we’ll be off.”

Harry offered the woman an apologetic smile and accepted the packet she handed him.

“Mr. Potter, you’ll be in Suite 919, and your assistant will be right across the hall in room 920. Your luggage is already in your rooms. The elevators – oh, dear, you say lifts, don’t you? The lifts are right around the corner. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

Draco’s jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were narrowed into angry slits of silver. “What did you call me?”

The witch looked confused and turned her eyes towards Harry for help.

“Don’t look at him!” Draco snapped. “I was the one who asked you a question!”

“What is the problem, sir?” she all but squeaked.

Draco slammed both hands on the desk and leaned forward as much as the barrier between him and the witch would allow. “Who told you I was his assistant? What is the meaning of this?”

“There must have been a slight misunderstanding,” Harry said as warmly as possible, trying to defuse the suddenly tense situation. “Mr. Malfoy is not my assistant. He’s my boyfriend, and we’ll be staying in the same room.”

“Oh,” the dark-haired woman said, her eyes wide. “I am truly, truly sorry. You must accept my apologies. However, I have the parchment that Mr. Wood, the gentleman who made the reservations for you, owled to us.” She held up the sheet of paper and read it quickly. “And it clearly shows that you two should have separate rooms. In fact, he explicitly stated that Mr. Malfoy was your assistant.”

Harry frowned as he turned toward Draco. “He’d never do that, Draco. There was some kind of mix up.”

“Whatever, Harry,” Draco said turning to walk to the elevators. “Let’s just go.”

Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s bicep before he could get away. “No. I want to know what happened.” Looking at the front desk agent once again, Harry asked, “Would it be alright if I had a quick look at that letter?”

“Be my guest,” the witch said as she handed Harry the parchment.

Draco moved to stand right next to Harry, and they read the parchment together. Frowning, Harry placed the letter on the desk. “Thanks for your help. For the record we’ll both be staying in suite 919.”

“No problem, Mr. Potter. Have a nice evening, gentlemen. And once again, Mr. Malfoy, I do sincerely apologise. There was no way I could have known.”

“It’s alright," Draco winced at Harry's elbow connecting with his ribs, and added kindly, "and I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Looping his arm around Harry’s waist, he explained, “I’m just cranky from the long trip and lack of food. Do you have room service here?”

“Sure,” the witch replied with a sincere smile, “the menu is in your room.”

“Thanks so much for your help,” Harry said as he snaked his arm around Draco’s shoulders and turned to walk away. “Oh, wait! Just one last thing, miss,” Harry called out over his shoulder. “Room 919 has a king-sized bed, right?”

The witch stifled a grin and said, “Yes, sir, it certainly does.”

“Great,” Harry said with a wink.

Feeling smug about the way Harry had been so unabashed at asking the question, Draco tightened his grip around his lover’s waist and led them towards the lifts.

“Hotel sex is brilliant,” Harry said as flopped onto his back, sweaty and sated.

Draco smiled as he rested his head on Harry’s chest. “Maybe we should start popping into the Leaky Cauldron for afternoon trysts.”

“Mmm,” Harry murmured as he enveloped Draco’s lithe form in his arm, “don’t tempt me.”

His body shaking with sudden laughter, Draco held onto his lover’s body as tightly as he could.

“What?” Harry asked. “Why are you laughing?”

Draco sobered slightly and flipped his head to look at Harry. “It’s just that it certainly doesn’t take much to turn you on!”

“It’s not my fault,” Harry pouted as he grabbed his spectacles and slipped them onto his face. “You are just so bloody hot!”

“So are you,” Draco said placing a soft kiss on Harry’s chest. “Quidditch certainly does a body good. Even though you are incapable of accepting it, the fact is that you are a devilishly handsome man.” Draco placed his hand on Harry’s knee and then moved it teasingly up his thigh as he whispered, “You have these amazing muscles.” His fingertips continued upward, brushing Harry’s hipbone and then the flat expanse of Harry’s stomach. “These rock hard abs that lead right up to this smooth, chiselled chest.” Draco’s fingers moved lightly over Harry’s body until they reached his neck where they twined themselves in Harry’s hair. “This amazing hair that gives the world the impression that you’ve just been shagged.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

“Don’t close your eyes, love,” Draco ordered as he brushed Harry’s fringe away from his forehead. “Your eyes are the best of all.”

Obeying his lover and opening his eyes, Harry said, “Thank you for the ego boost, but I'm not a match for your description."

“But you are, Harry. You are,” Draco said.

Harry looked into his lover’s eyes and saw worry, like powerful dark grey storms brewing in the usually bright and silver depths. When Draco lifted his thumb to his lips and bit the nail, Harry knew something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked, running his hands up and down Draco’s back in long, soothing strokes. “Tell me what is bothering you.”

Sitting up and turning away from his lover, Draco said, “You’re going to think me a daft idiot.”

“Never,” Harry said raising himself onto his elbows. “You can tell me anything. You know that. Now, out with it.”

“You don’t want to hear it,” Draco said, his voice cool and distant.

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “That hurts me, Draco. I will always want to hear whatever it is that you want to say.” He placed a warm kiss in the middle of Draco’s back before propping his chin on Draco’s shoulder. “Spill it.”

“Fine,” Draco said. “You don’t see it, Harry, but Oliver Wood wants you.”

Groaning, Harry flopped down onto his back. “Not this again.”

“See? I told you that you didn’t want to hear it!” Draco almost cried as he whipped around to pierce Harry with accusing eyes. “You don’t see it, but I do. I know the signs when a man wants someone. There have been dozens of reasons for me to suspect Wood over the years, all the private one-on-one training, late nights at the practice pitch, and he’s even shown up at our home uninvited. And I know you’ll never believe me, but when he thinks you’re not looking, I see such jealousy in his eyes. This has bothered me for a long time, and I’ve tried to hold my tongue, but what happened tonight was the last straw.”

“He is my boss, Draco, and nothing more.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his boyfriend. “And what happened tonight – coincidence?”

“That’s exactly what it was – coincidence. It was a silly mix up that could have happened to anybody,” Harry said with a little more force than he had intended. “And frankly I’m tired of constantly having to defend him and prove my love to you.”

As he lay down slowly in the bed and pulled the covers over his body, Draco said so quietly that Harry barely heard, “I know you love me, but I wish that you also believed me.”

Settling himself under the blankets with a sigh, Harry said, “I’ve got a match tomorrow, and I need to sleep.” Harry leant over and kissed Draco on the cheek. “We’ll talk more after the match, okay?”

Draco nodded against his pillow and hoped that Harry couldn’t feel his body shaking as he tried to hold back his tears.

Watery, thin light was what brought Draco from his sleep. Instinctively he moved to wrap his body around his lover, but his hand found nothing but cool sheets. He lifted his head and scanned the room. Harry was gone; he had left without so much as a goodbye.

It’s nothing, Draco thought as he looked at the clock. He just didn’t want to wake me so early.

Nodding to himself, Draco threw off the blankets and flew from the bed. He had just enough time to shower and eat breakfast if he was going to make it to the pitch in time for the match.

“And in the royal blue robes trimmed in gold, here comes the visiting team, Puddlemere United!”

Draco sat in the stands, his pale skin blushed pink in the warm April sun. He watched Harry walk onto the pitch, his robes fluttering around him in the light spring breeze, the number 11 emblazoned on his back, and Draco clapped with all the energy he had. “Go Puddlemere!” he screamed. “Go number eleven!”

Knowing that he would soon get to see Harry in his element, flying against the backdrop of an impossibly blue sky, all thoughts of last night’s argument were washed away by his excitement. Watching Harry’s matches gave Draco a thrill like no other, and he was thrumming with anticipation.

Once again the announcer’s voice boomed through the crowd. “And now, put your hands together for our own hometown heroes, seven time winners of the U.S. Cup, in the red robes trimmed in white, the Fitchburg Finches!!!”

Draco contemplated booing, but reconsidered. Instead, he thought to himself, The Finches may have won the U.S. Cup seven times, but Harry’ll see to it that they don’t even get a chance at the World Cup.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Draco screamed, “CATCH THAT SNITCH, POTTER!”

His voice must have carried well enough because Harry twisted his body to look up into the risers, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. Draco gave an exaggerated wave of his little blue and gold Puddlemere flag and saw a beautiful smile break across Harry’s face. Then Harry kissed the tips of his fingers and blew on them, sending the kiss in Draco’s direction.

Women in the stands sitting around Draco began to shriek, certain the kiss had been meant for them. Draco merely grinned and blew his own kiss downward.

“Players on your marks, please,” the voice of the announcer ordered. Harry shouldered his broom and moved out into the middle of the field to take his position. He faced Maximus Brankovitch III, the Finches’ burly Seeker, and mounted his broom.

The official standing in between the Seekers threw his hand upwards, freeing the Snitch into the air, and Harry kicked off the ground, rocketing after the small gold orb.

“The Golden Snitch has been released and the Seekers are in the air!” the announcer cried. “Brankovitch breaking left and Potter breaking right! Exciting beginning to this match, indeed! Hold onto your seats!”

Zooming at impossible speeds, dipping low and then shooting upwards, Harry chased the Snitch with everything he had. During one particularly tense moment when Harry missed a careening Bludger by no more than a few centimetres, Draco’s breath caught painfully in his chest. It was only when Harry dipped down at a sharp angle, zipping away from the Finches’ Beater, that Draco regained his ability to breathe.

As hard as it may have been for Draco to watch his lover in such a dangerous game, it was also just as exciting. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribcage in a frantic rhythm. Draco could feel the blood burning in his veins and his nerves sizzling just under his skin as he witnessed his lover’s daring manoeuvres.

The game had barely begun, and Draco was already dreaming of how he’d ease Harry’s overworked muscles with a hot bath followed by a warm oil massage. Draco loved to run his hands over Harry’s body and feel the bunched and knotted muscles melt under his touch.

But the best part, Draco thought, is the shagging that is sure to follow.

Draco was waiting patiently for Harry on a bench around the corner from the visiting team’s locker room, and he couldn’t help but grin at the sound of raucous male laughter echoing off the cement walls. Puddlemere United had easily defeated the Finches, and the men were obviously revelling in the exhilaration of their victory.

Minutes later, Draco was beginning to get nervous when Harry finally burst from the locker room doors, his hair damp and glistening. Before Draco could say anything he was being crushed against rough cement by Harry’s broad frame, and his lips were being claimed by Harry’s hungry mouth.

It wasn’t until Draco’s whimpers increased in intensity that Harry pulled back and allowed the blond to breathe.

“What was that for?” Draco sighed, running his hands along Harry shoulders.

Harry closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Draco’s before whispering, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said softly. “Let’s just go back to the hotel, so we can celebrate your victory – in private.”

“You look amazing,” Harry said as he stepped behind Draco, who was gazing at himself in the mirror, straightening his shimmering royal blue dress robes. “That colour... it does something to your eyes.”

Turning around and brushing his hands over Harry’s shoulders in an effort to work out the creases in his robes, Draco smiled and said, “You look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks,” Harry said before leaning forward for a kiss. “But I really hate going to these things.”

Circling his arms around Harry’s waist, Draco said, “I know you do, but it will be virtually painless, I promise.”

Please let me make it through this night, Draco thought as he took another sip of his drink. A headache was building behind his eyes and the music thumping through the room did little to alleviate his pain.

Oliver Wood had been throwing him fiery glances all evening, and Draco felt strangely disturbed by the feeling of burning eyes following his every move. Harry had just finished shaking hands with another fan when he leant over and placed his lips against Draco’s ear. “Wood does keep looking in our direction, doesn’t he?”

Draco swallowed the last of his drink in an effort to ease his nerves before nodding mutely.

“Need another?” Harry asked pointing to Draco’s glass.

“Please,” Draco replied handing the empty tumbler to Harry, “but hurry back.”

Harry placed a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek and turned to walk towards the bar that had been set up against the far wall.

A few moments passed as Draco nodded politely to the witches and wizards walking by. He was scanning the room for Harry when he heard a strong Scottish lilt behind him. “Where’s your lover gone?”

Without turning Draco crossed his arms over his chest and answered. “None of your business, Wood.”

“No need for nastiness,” Oliver said, stepping beside Draco. “And I don’t really care where he is, anyway. It’s you I want to talk to.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” Draco bit out, unable to stop himself from turning to look into Oliver’s eyes. “That you desire my boyfriend and want to make him yours? Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve been aware of that for a very long time.”

A chuckle, dark and cold, was Oliver’s answer and the echoing sound sent chills skittering through Draco’s entire body.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Oliver said as he wrapped his large, calloused hand around Draco’s bicep. “It’s you I want, and it’s you I will have.”

“Get your hands off of me,” Draco sneered, trying to pull his arm from Oliver’s iron grip.

“I don’t think so,” Oliver said as dug his fingers deeper into Draco’s arm. “Every single trick I tried to split you two apart didn’t work. So I guess I’m going to have to just take what I want.”

The sound of shattering glass caused both men to whip their heads around.

Harry was standing with his wand drawn and pointed at Oliver’s head, the drinks he’d been carrying in a mess at his feet. “Let him go, Wood. Let him go right now.”

Releasing Draco and backing up a step, Oliver raised his hands in front of his chest in a gesture of surrender. “Barely touched him, mate. Nothing to get excited over.”

“You’re not worthy to speak his name, Wood, let alone touch him,” Harry spat as he wrapped his free arm around Draco’s waist and pulled his lover close. “Draco always knew something was off about you, he always knew. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. You can consider yourself in search of a new Seeker,” Harry sneered before Apparating himself and his lover away.

As soon as they landed safely in their dark hotel room, Harry began placing featherlight kisses over Draco’s face and jaw, each one punctuated by a whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Draco soothed, running his hands up and down Harry’s back in long, warm strokes. “It’s over.”

“Can’t believe that monster had his hands on you,” Harry said. “I wanted to kill him.”

Draco wanted to say something more to ease Harry’s anger, but the feeling of Harry’s lips gliding up his neck and sucking on his earlobe robbed Draco of the ability to speak.

“You’re mine,” Harry rumbled against Draco’s neck.

“Yes,” Draco sighed, gripping Harry’s shoulders to steady himself. “Yours.”

“Can’t wait,” Harry said before muttering a spell that divested both men of their clothes. “Want you so much.”

Draco could feel Harry’s arousal against his suddenly bare thigh, and shifted his body so that his own stiffening cock could rub against that of his lover. “Take me,” Draco said, his voice breathy and low.

Wrapping Draco in his arms, Harry moved them across the room and gently pressed Draco onto the bed. Harry was lost in his need to claim Draco as his own, hands roaming over each bit of exposed flesh, his mouth leaving hot, tingling trails along Draco’s neck and chest.

Knees falling open, Draco spread his legs wide and arched up against his lover. The friction was delicious, and his body craved more. His hips rocked against Harry’s, causing the brunet to shake with pleasure. They moved against each other, helpless against the urge for more contact, more skin, more of each other.

Just as Draco could feel the first stirring of his approaching climax, Harry raised himself off of Draco’s body. A lusty whine of frustration escaped Draco’s lips just before Harry lowered his head and licked Draco’s cock from the base to the tip.

“Oh, gods, Harry…” Draco whimpered as Harry sucked the moist head of Draco’s erection into his mouth. He began bobbing his head, sucking and running his tongue along the underside of Draco’s cock in small, steady strokes. It wasn’t long before Draco's hips were bucking upward of their own volition, Draco’s body seeking release.

“No,” Draco said softly as he tugged lightly on Harry’s hair. “No, want to…”

Harry let the turgid length of Draco’s cock slide from his mouth before gazing into his lover’s eyes and nodding in understanding. He slid up Draco’s body once again, kissing this stomach, his chest, then his neck. Harry whispered the lubrication charm against Draco’s skin and then slowly slid one finger into Draco’s eager hole.

Draco moaned in pleasure as Harry continued to kiss the sensitive skin below his ear while he wriggled his finger inside of Draco’s body. He was soon begging for more and Harry obliged, slipping one and then two more fingers inside.

It was bliss, and Draco found himself grinding his hips against Harry’s pistoning fingers, delighting in the sensation. “Please, Harry… Merlin, I… Just, please…”

Another lubrication charm, and then Harry was pushing the thick length of his cock into Draco’s willing body. Canting his hips upward, taking all of Harry that he could, Draco began to move in small, forceful strokes. “Want you,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “Feels so good, Harry…”

The words were all Harry needed, and he began rocking in time with Draco’s thrusts. Groaning his pleasure into Draco’s ear, Harry gave into his desire. His movements became hard and greedy as he slammed into Draco over and over again.

Draco’s cried out as Harry’s cock grazed that swollen gland inside of his body that made him see stars bursting before his eyes. Harry pumped his hips ruthlessly once, twice more and Draco shattered. He came hard, his release spurting onto Harry’s stomach in milky white streams.

Swooping down to capture Draco’s lips in a kiss, Harry drove his cock into Draco one final time before he was seized by his own climax.

He held himself up on his elbows, careful not to crush the body beneath him. “I love you,” Harry whispered before letting his head fall to Draco’s shoulder, “but you’re going to be the death of me.”

“At least you’ll go a happy man,” Draco said with a sly smile, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“Smart-arse,” Harry teased before slowly slipping out of Draco’s body. He lay down beside the blond and threw his arm over his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Harry whispered. “Really, I’m so sorry.”

“We were both wrong,” Draco said. “Let’s let it go, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry said and kissed Draco’s shoulder.

“But there is just one small thing,” Draco said, running his fingers along Harry’s arm. “What are you going to do now? You love Quidditch, and I don’t want to be the cause of you not playing.”

“Well,” Harry said warmly, “I was thinking about taking a long holiday. You and I haven’t been on a proper trip in ages.”

Draco squealed with delight. “Really?”

“Why not?” Harry replied. “And after that, who knows? There isn’t a team out there that wouldn’t want me, or I could always coach. We’ll be alright, Draco.”

“You’re right, Harry,” Draco said sleepily as he snuggled close to his love. “As long as we’re together, all will be well.”

End