Harry watched as Draco disappeared back out into the living room, then exhaled quickly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and shaking just a little where a stood. This was fine, this was good! This was exactly what he wanted. But still, it was brand new, and his nerves were rattled; he was promising his obedience to another human being, so they could do whatever they wanted with him.

In the fraction of a second it had taken for these thoughts to filter through, he forced himself to relax again. This wasn't just anybody, this was Draco. And he was doing this to prove that he felt safe, that he trusted him wholly and completely. What was the point if that wasn't true?

Draco came back into the room, holding his iPod that Harry had bought him for his birthday, unwinding the headphones, pulling them out of the socket and glancing cautiously at Harry. He hadn't been sure about buying him the magically modified music player, Draco didn't seem massively keen on Muggle music after all. But having been introduced to the basic concept, and shown where and how he could listen to and upload new music, Draco had become obsessed, insatiable. His music collection had probably surpassed Harry's own in the few months he'd been able to work on it.

Draco placed his player in the docking station that was common in every room of their suite. Their magical presence was weak, so it didn't interfere with the electrics and Draco was able to get the music playing without any trouble.

An electric guitar bass, funky and sultry, began to drift over the room. Not so loud it would disturb the neighbours (even without Harry's silencing charms), but loud enough to seep through Harry's skin and soak him with reassurance. "Playlist?" he asked as the drums kicked in, knowing how Draco liked to clump his music together in emotive spurts.

"Yeah," he said shyly, picking up his G'n'T for a sip and giving Harry half a smile. "They're songs that remind me of fucking you. I haven't had a chance to listen to them in quite a while."

Harry felt like his bones had gone to jelly. Well, he wanted Draco in charge, he was doing a pretty stand up job of it so far.

"We should probably have a safe word," he said, trying to be sensible as he thought back to his one or two other experiences like this.

"Safe word?" Draco repeated, taking another mouthful of his gin and tonic. He rested the edge of the glass of his bottom lip and Harry almost groaned audibly at what that made his insides do.

He nodded. "In case one of us feels out of our depth, we can say it, and the other knows to snap out of whatever is happening. It's part of the trust thing."

Draco eyed him, something almost feral in his gaze. "You've done this before," he said, his pitch hitting something very low in Harry indeed.

"Once or twice," Harry admitted. It had been fun, but it had been with strangers. What he and Draco were proposing made those memories pale in comparison.

Draco was looking at him thoughtfully, and he darted his tongue out to wet his lips before taking another sip. "How about 'Violets'?" he asked.

Harry hadn't been entirely sure about covering the suite in flowers – Draco had teased him mercilessly about that last time after all. But in that moment he was very glad that he had. He thought maybe Draco understood exactly what he'd been trying to convey by picking the other flower from that irksome rhyme he'd managed to turn into their romantic anthem. "Violets," he repeated with a little nod.

Not sure what else to do, he grabbed his own drink back from the drawers and took a gulp, his heart racing, trying not to let his mind run away with him. A part of him wanted to flip this, he wanted his dominance back, but instead he forced himself to calm and turn to Draco, who had perched on the edge of the enormous king-sized bed.

It was high, so Draco's toes just rested on the carpet, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees. He swivelled his arm so his right hand, the one nearest to Harry, was reaching out whilst still leaning on his elbow, and his fingers curled a couple of times in quick succession. "Come here," he said softly.

Lust outweighed Harry's apprehension. He trusted Draco, he was giving himself to him. So he encouraged his heart to slow, took another swig of gin and moved carefully over to stand in front of him.

His knees were touching Draco's, and gently, the other man took his glass from his hand, leaving him standing unsure in front of him. He remained still, eyes on Draco as he slowly ran his hands up his shirt sleeves, fingers trailing cautiously through the folds of his cravat.

"Astoria and I," he began, but Harry cut him off sharply.

"I don't want to know," he insisted. She seemed like a nice girl, but he wanted absolutely zero imagery of her and Draco's time together.

"Nothing happened," Draco insisted calmly but firmly, undoing Harry's tie. "Nothing. I never cheated on you, I swear on my mother's life."

Harry looked down at him, their eyes locking as the silk of the tie unravelled and slipped to the carpet. "Good," said Harry honestly, and Draco inhaled and smiled.

"Guess that was another sign I was doing something really fucking stupid," he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"You said it," Harry quipped, feeling more at ease with Draco's confession and insistence on making jokes.

He pretended to scowl, hands moving to Harry's top button. "Shut up," he said petulantly. "I'm trying to seduce you."

Harry bit his grinning lip and couldn't help but let his eyes flutter closed. He was in safe hands.

Methodically, Draco loosened the buttons, one by one, fingertips skimming over the skin on Harry's chest that was sensitive with goose bumps. He pulled the shirt up from his trousers, releasing the last of the buttons and slipping his hands over Harry's shoulders to push the garment down to the floor.

His mouth found his way to Harry's abdominals, kissing up his rib cage as Harry tried to keep his breathing steady, forcing his hands to stay down. He was Draco's, he wouldn't do anything until he said so, not tonight.

Draco's lips found Harry's nipple on the left, and Harry wasn't prepared for the little graze of teeth that made him jump. He could feel Draco smile against his skin as he continued to kiss and suck, pearling the nipple under his tongue into a hard nub. Hands caressed along his hips, up his sides and around his back as Draco switched and focused on the other side of Harry's chest, giving the same attention to that nipple too. He blew on the wet, sensitive skin as it rose, making Harry shiver.

"Harry?" Draco whispered, causing him to open his eyes as he leant up and kissed his mouth. "I want you to touch me," he said breathlessly.

Harry didn't need telling twice. He entwined his fingers through Draco's hair, pulling them closer together with an appreciative moan. Draco's hands however were busy with his belt, fumbling with the clasp before whipping it free from his hips and slinging it to the carpet with abandon. Next came the trouser button and zip, and Harry helped by kicking off his boots, meaning as his trousers were pushed to his ankles they could also be kicked off with little regard, leaving Harry in just his boxers and...

"Fuck," muttered Draco, suddenly seizing Harry by the waist and twisting him onto the bed in a fluid motion that almost cost Harry his glasses. "How do you manage to make those bloody socks sexy?"

The Quidditch socks, Harry remembered a little disgruntled. The ones he assured himself were fine to wear because no one else would see them.

"Oh shut up," he grinned as Draco loomed over his body, straddling him with intent. "You were the one who bought them for me."

"Yup," Draco agreed, coming back in for a thoroughly decent snog. "So I guess it's all my fault."

Harry had his arms up and hands resting on Draco's shoulders. He managed to toe off the offending socks, but he couldn't help but feel Draco was secretly pleased he'd been caught out wearing them.

Now all that remained were the boxers. His mostly naked body ground against Draco's slightly coarse trousers, his silky waistcoat, the soft cotton of his shirt, revelling in the sensation of skin on material. He keened as Draco pulled his lower lip between his teeth, then began the slow and torturous process of working his mouth and tongue and lips through the centre of his chest, past his navel, trailing the soft hair that paved the way down to his pulsing groin.

Harry tangled his fingers in his own hair as he felt cool air on his most sensitive parts, feeling the elastic lift from his hips and be dragged down his legs, leaving him totally naked, vulnerable to Draco's scrutiny. Kisses fluttered up his inner thigh and Harry couldn't help but gasp; he'd done exactly this for Draco their first night together. Except, he'd been conscious of not letting Draco feel like he was being teased, and had got down to business pretty quickly. It seemed Draco had other plans...

His fingertips were lightly trailing along Harry's skin, soft touches across his abdomen and his hips and Draco worked his mouth along Harry's right thigh. Lips and tongue massaged their way torturously closer to his crotch, making Harry shudder, his breathing hitching.

"Draco," he shuddered, gripping at his wiry hair, eyes screwed up behind his glasses. He forced himself to calm a little. He knew what was coming, and the fact it was going to take a little longer was actually sweeter, because it forcibly reminded Harry that in fact, they had all the time in the world now. They were back together, and if the evening so far was indication, they were better than ever.

Harry pushed into Draco's touch, realising for the first time ever, he was allowing himself to get lost in the fantasy of their future. A future that included loved ones, of facing the world with bare-faced honesty, of becoming a part of a couple, a unit, together-

All coherent thought dropped from his brain as Draco's fingertips skirted up the length of his cock. "Ungh!" he cried out, jerking his body forward involuntary before flopping back into the mattress. Draco's breath was heavy against his thigh, his cheek resting there as he ran his hand gently up and down Harry's length with maddening restraint.

"I forgot," he murmured, gripping with more intensity and making Harry grit his teeth in pleasure. "The amazing noises you make."

"Nuh-uh," Harry gasped, biting his lip against the grin forming. "You're the noisy one."

"Really?" Draco asked, and Harry could practically feel the eyebrow lifting as he removed his hand for a horrible moment, before replacing it with his hot, wanting mouth.

"Fuck!" Harry cried, arching his back, abandoning his own hair in favour of running his hands through Draco's, encouraging him as he bobbed up and down, taking him deep into his throat.

Harry had thought that morning in his flat, when he'd been trying in vain to read the Quidditch pages, was going to be his last memory of he and Draco in bed. Whatever else happened after this, knowing that was not in fact going to be his last blow job from his infuriating, but adorable boyfriend, it made him push back into Draco's mouth.

If it made him gag at all, he recovered without faltering, continuing with a rhythm that Harry could feel was shredding him to pieces.

But just as he could feel his climax building, Draco slid off, causing him to grimace and vault up. "Wha-"

Draco was scrambling at his top button. "No, I want," he said, trembling. "Together – help me-"

Harry didn't need encouraging. He sat up all the way, and two pairs of hands fumbled with his shirt and his waistcoat, peeling off the clothing, leaving Draco's chest mercifully naked and Harry forgot his own want, attacking those perfect abs and the scar that sliced him diagonally in two, kissing down it as the two of them struggled with the belt buckle. "So fucking happy I've got you back," Harry mumbled into Draco's mouth, making as short a job of his trousers as he had done to Harry.

Draco pushed him back on the bed, only his boxers remaining, having already disposed of his of his shoes and socks with the skill of an escapologist. "You're stuck with me, Potter," he growled, grinding their hips together as he lavished him with kisses that left them both struggling for breath.

"Okay," said Harry, willing to admit defeat.

"Did you pack-?"

Harry didn't need him to finish. He threw his left hand out towards the living room. "Accio bag!" he gasped, not needing to bother with his wand, and the rucksack flew into his waiting grasp. "Front section," he breathed, shoving it towards Draco, so glad he decided to crawl under his bed for those extra items.

Draco ripped open the zip and took in the contents. "Well you were planning on quite an evening," he teased.

"Draco," Harry growled, unsure if he was boneless or stiff as a board against the pillows. "If you don't get back to my dick in the next five seconds-"

Draco snorted, pulling a pump-action bottle from the bag and dropping the rest to the floor. "Such a baby," he sighed, launching in for another snog as his hands got busy removing his last remaining article of clothing and popping the lid off the lube.

"My baby," he rumbled into Harry's ear as his slick hand wrapped back around his prick, working the gel along him lovingly.

"Yours," Harry agreed wholeheartedly, lifting his pelvis to encourage Draco's touch. He massaged him a little longer, before moving to tend to his own cock, Harry unable to stop himself drinking in the delicious sight of his lover pleasuring himself, watching as his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

Draco took the briefest of moments to wipe his hand off on the side of the bed, before crashing his weight back into Harry, slamming their bodies together and undulating his slippery cock against Harry's, causing the most beautiful friction that Harry practically yelped at. He dug his fingers into the flesh of Draco's hips, losing himself in the motion as they worked together, lips fighting for dominance with such force Harry was left dizzy and fighting for purchase. "Draco," he whispered, over and over. "I think I'm going to-"

"Wait!" Draco gasped. "Wait for me, wait, please!"

And Harry did as he was told, taking a deep breath as Draco continued to grind into him, catching up, searching for the release Harry was holding onto.

"Come on baby," he whispered, hands pressing grooves down Draco's back. "Come for me."

A tortured nod signalled he was close, and Harry let himself pick up the pace again, feeling the pressure build explosively in him, until there was nothing but gnashing teeth, sheets gripped in iron fists, anguished cries, and then boneless bodies slumping together, bellies warm and slick with the result of the passion.