nursedarry | Fic: H/D Out On the Tiles

Title: Out On the Tiles
Prompt: from

melusinahp - Fighting that turns into semi-violent but consensual and very passionate sex.
Summary: This is what Myrtle really saw.
Rating/Word Count: R/1954
Warning: That nebulous dubcon no one agrees on.
Author's Notes: This should have been longer, but Harry wasn’t co-operating. In fact, he even tried to leave early, the selfish b*stard; I got him to stay a bit longer, at least. Thanks to

delphipsmith and

cassie_black12 for the betas. Title taken from a song by Led Zeppelin. Written for

serpentinelion's Summer Kink Fest, 2010.

“Stop! STOP!”

Harry barely heard the words over the noise of the exploding bin behind him. He jerked forward, hurled a Leg-Locker Curse, then grimaced as it missed its mark. Water flooded the room, drenching the floor. Harry slipped, but aimed true this time.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

Both his and Malfoy’s wands flew from their hands simultaneously. They desperately looked around, trying to see where the wands had disappeared to, but it was useless. Between the gushing water, Myrtle’s yelling and the litter of exploded tiles scattered across the floor, neither would have time to search before the other was upon him.

“GRNNNAAAAH!” Malfoy roared and clenched his fists. Then he hurled himself across the room at his opponent.

A fraction of a second later, Harry narrowed his eyes through a red haze and launched himself at Malfoy.

They met in a flurry of fists and knees. Malfoy threw up his hands as Harry took a swing at his face, and Harry’s knuckles connected only with Malfoy’s forearm. Malfoy brought down his hands and grabbed handfuls of Harry’s hair, yanking on it as hard as he could in what felt like ten different directions.

Harry’s eyes began to water. He tried to twist out of Malfoy’s grasp, but found that that hurt even more. “ACCIO WA—” he shouted, but Malfoy raised a knee, aiming for Harry’s groin, and Harry was forced to dodge. He quickly shuffled to one side, lost his balance and fell to the soggy floor, dragging Malfoy with him and wrenching his ankle.

Harry’s body erupted in pain from the roots of his hair to the twisted ankle. He pulled himself around in an attempt to rise to his knees and prevent Malfoy from getting the upper hand.

“I’m going to kill you, Potter!” Malfoy snarled, spitting saliva to mix with the last of his tears. The drops spattered on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry rolled sideways, pinning Malfoy beneath him. His legs kicked out ineffectually as Harry climbed fully on top of him and pressed him into the wet floor.

But Malfoy still had his hands buried in Harry’s hair, their vice-like grip never wavering. Harry might have had greater control, but he, too, was held tightly. He tried to smash Malfoy’s head and shoulders into the hard tile beneath them, but Malfoy resisted.

“Do it, Malfoy!” Harry shouted. “If you can!” He ripped one of Malfoy’s hands free of his hair, pinned it beneath his knee and pushed into it. Hard.

Malfoy yowled in pain and yanked at Harry’s hair with his free hand. Harry winced again and reached for Malfoy’s shirt. Once more, he tried to forcibly pull the other boy upwards and then slam him to the floor.

Malfoy wrenched Harry’s head down at the same time. Their foreheads and noses banged together and they both cursed, mouths moving against each other. They froze in place, as motionless as though someone had cast Petrificus Totalus at them.

The spray of water from the ruined cistern slowed to a trickle. The room quieted; Myrtle was nowhere to be seen.

The two boys didn’t notice.

With a harsh growl, Harry broke the strange paralysis that had seized him and tore at Malfoy’s drenched shirt. Buttons flew in every direction, pinging against porcelain and landing in the water beneath them. His nails scraped across Malfoy’s chest, cutting deeply enough to draw blood.

Malfoy cried out, only to have his voice stolen by Harry’s mouth. He once again tugged at Harry’s hair, but this time Harry followed him downwards, scrabbling against Malfoy’s shoulders and shoving his tongue past the other boy’s lips.

Harry felt Malfoy’s fingers leave his scalp and an arm wrap around his shoulders. Harry released Malfoy’s other arm from beneath his leg and stretched out. That arm, too, wound around Harry’s neck.

They came up for air an eternity later.

“God...” Harry moaned. “I hate you.” He lowered his head and licked the scars his nails had made. Malfoy’s grip on his shoulders tightened and Harry heard a gasp. Or was it a sob?

Without thinking, Harry sat up and, as if on fire, tugged off his shirt, tie, and jumper in one jerky motion. His glasses caught in the garments and were torn from his face, clattering to the floor.

Whilst Harry was distracted, Malfoy thrust his hips up, pushing Harry backwards, and fell on top of him, their positions now reversed. “I hate you too, Potter,” Malfoy snarled. Harry snaked his hands out from between them and pulled Malfoy’s shirt -- now mostly in tatters -- from his trousers. Malfoy abandoned it on the floor.

There were grunts, shared glares, and desperate groping to free more flesh. Belts were hastily undone, buckles clanking against the stone. Trousers and pants were pushed down past hips — the two boys manically shifted to accommodate their frantic undressing.

Malfoy shoved his hands under Harry’s back and kissed him fiercely. It was inexpert and rough; and shit, this is crazy, Harry thought. The contact with another hot, wet and half-naked body brought the fight out in him even more. Malfoy began nipping at any place on Harry he could reach with his mouth, starting with his chin and neck. Harry’s grabbed at Malfoy’s hair, his shoulders - his nails cutting into the skin of Malfoy’s back now. Malfoy growled and tore at Harry’s chest with his teeth, mouthing Harry’s skin like a starving man. He paused for a few seconds to suck on one of Harry’s nipples before sliding over to the other, while Harry struggled with his slippery grip to pull Malfoy even closer.

Malfoy slid down Harry’s torso, biting the soft flesh of his belly, hands almost painfully holding Harry’s arms from below. Harry’s hands lost their grip on Malfoy’s back as the blond head travelled down Harry’s body in a frenzy of lips, teeth, and tongue. He tangled his fingers in Malfoy’s wet hair, breathing faster than he had when they were fighting.

Tightening his grip in the damp silver strands, Harry pushed Malfoy’s head southwards. “Scared, Malfoy?” Harry barked, his voice rough with need. He had no idea if the other boy had heard him or was aiming for the same goal, and he didn’t much care.

Harry’s cock was abruptly swallowed up in a warm velvet mouth.

“Fuuuuck,” Harry groaned to the ceiling, the sound mostly vowels. He felt Malfoy pushing his now-soaked school trousers further down his legs and settle between them, gripping Harry’s arse as his lips and tongue went to work on Harry’s cock.

Harry had never had a blowjob before and was dangerously close to having this one end all too soon. He panted and tried to raise his head off the floor, just far enough to look down at the blond head bobbing between his thighs. He may have been a sexual novice, but it didn't take an expert to know that Malfoy was using too much teeth and not enough suction. Even so, this was the best fucking thing that he’d ever felt.

He pushed and pulled at Malfoy’s head, not caring if it hurt him or made him gag. Harry felt himself closing in on that wonderful place he’d only ever reached on his own and was little bothered that his first time with another was on a wet toilet floor with a boy who’d been intent on killing him only minutes before. Right now, Malfoy was the only other person in the world.

A hand left Harry’s backside and grabbed his fingers, yanking them away from the pale head. The warm suction left Harry’s cock briefly and Malfoy shouted “Stop it, Potter!”

With that, he returned his mouth to Harry’s prick and jabbed his hand under Harry’s arse again, this time pushing a finger against his hole. “Malfoy!” Harry croaked, voice rough and anguished. “What are you — I’m gonna —”

Harry saw stars and erupted into Malfoy’s mouth just as the finger pushed into him. A pulse of magic reverberated around the room, strong enough to burst a rusty pipe below one of the sinks. Water shot forth into the room again, gushing across the floor.

Harry's hands thrashed uselessly beside him, but the only purchase they could find were broken pieces of wet and slimy tile. Harry didn’t feel them cut into his fingers; his entire universe of sensations had been reduced to his throbbing cock and his arse surrounding Malfoy's finger. He vaguely registered Malfoy’s sputtering coughs, but didn’t acknowledge Malfoy at all - just writhed on the finger that was moving in and out of him.

“I could kill you now, Potter.” Malfoy’s breath was hot on Harry’s face and Harry opened his eyes to see the other boy looming over him, his body heavy on Harry's chest again, two fingers now shoved inside him. Harry attempted to squirm out from underneath, but he was anchored by the other’s weight, not to mention the fingers up his arse.

Now, the smell of sulphur — like magic run amok — assaulted Harry’s nostrils, and he tasted copper in his mouth. His senses seemed electrified. Another pipe burst and water fell like rain against the wall.

Lifting up, bracing himself over Harry with one arm, Malfoy began rocking his hips against Harry’s leg. The rhythm of his fingers faltered as he pushed himself harder into Harry’s thigh. Slippery flesh slid together — it almost felt as though they were moving themselves across the floor, one spasm at a time. For all Harry knew, they were.

Malfoy was grunting loudly now, his fingers convulsing, sending a spark of something glorious through Harry’s spent body. “Come on, Malfoy!” Harry encouraged. He wormed a hand between them and grabbed Malfoy’s cock, not pausing to wonder at either his actions or the meaning behind them. Watching Malfoy get off was nearly as gratifying as his own orgasm had been.

“Guh...gonna...fuck you...next time...Potter,” Malfoy promised in short gasps and filled Harry’s fist with come.

Tiles from the floor shot into the air and whizzed around them. Harry reached out to brace himself as the room began to shake. Moments later, his scrabbling hand connected with a length of hawthorn.

Instinct taking over, he shouted "Stupefy!" - and Malfoy froze above him, then fell hard onto Harry. Harry lay beneath him, breathing heavily, then, slowly, and with no little amount of pain, he slid awkwardly out from under Malfoy. As he did so, Malfoy's fingers pulled away from Harry’s body and his hand fell limply to the floor. Harry sat up and glanced down at the wand, realising it lacked a familiar feel. He used it to Accio his own as well as his shirt, jumper, tie, and glasses.

As Harry stood and rearranged his clothing, he scowled and looked down at the other boy. Malfoy lay on his belly, one arm trapped beneath him, the other - the one that was just inside me, Harry thought, with a small shiver of a feeling he refused to name - stretched out, Malfoy’s pallid body reflecting the whiteness of the porcelain around him. He looked harmless, Harry thought, shirtless, with trousers and pants pushed down to his knees, arse on full display.

Impulsively, Harry shoved Malfoy over onto his back. The grey eyes stared up, unseeing. Malfoy’s chest was covered in scratches, his penis softening against a pale thigh. Harry spent a long moment looking at him, a myriad of possibilities forming in his head. Surprisingly few of them involved killing.

Then he rose to his feet and threw down the wand down beside the boy. “See you later, Malfoy.” His feet splashed through the water as he walked to the door. "Finite Incantatem", he muttered, without looking back.

End