An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Carey âWâRecs Wednesday(･â˘Ěá´-)⧠presents:
Fantastic Flip Fuck with Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!
hoko_onchi @hoko-onchi-writes
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Porn Star Harry Potter, Porn Star Draco Malfoy, Sex Work, Flip Fuck, Saucy Porn Titles, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Mutual Pining, Pining While Fucking, Praise Kink, Draco Malfoy Has a Breeding Kink, Porn Star AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Getting Together, Falling in Love on a Porno Set, Multiple Orgasms, No Refractory Period, Switching
Summary:
âThaddeus cancelled. But he sent a replacement.â
Harryâs stomach sinks. Heâd really been looking forward to sucking Thaddeusâs cock and coming inside of him, but, at this point, it really doesnât matter what sort of hole he fucks, as long as itâs hot, slick, and properly outfitted with protective Charms. He also wants to get fucked because thatâs what this day promised to bring.
âYou know Iâll fuck anyone, C,â Harry says, as if this needs saying. He supposes Cho needs the reminder since sheâs all bent out of shape about a casting change.
âWill you fuck anyone?â A shadow crosses the floor right in front of Harry. The words are a posh drawl, nothing like the lilt of Choâs accent. âAnyone with an available hole? Because thatâs what Iâve heard. Youâre the village broom. Anyone who fancies a ride can use you whenever they like.â
Harryâs head snaps up so fast thereâs reverb in his neck. He blinks rapidly. This must be an illusion spell because sodding Draco Malfoy stands before him, wearing tight black trousers and a carelessly unbuttoned silk shirt in an irritatingly Slytherin shade of green.Â
~~
Or:
Draco fucks Harry. Harry fucks Draco. They are porn stars. That's it.
(*ââ˝â)ă ďźž. * ｼ ･ďžâ
Excerpt:
Harry is nervous in a way he hasnât been since he did his first porn at eighteen. At twenty-eight, heâs fucked hundreds of people. Sex shouldnât be daunting with anyone, no matter what sort of pointy twink Cho throws his way. Itâs maybe just that itâs this pointy twink, and Harryâs been half-hating, half-fantasising, fully-smitten about Malfoy for years, and heâs never told a soul.
Harryâs breathing is rapid when Malfoy climbs on the bed, and his face goes hot when Lee counts down and the cameras go on. Thereâs no hiding his excitement, his hot anticipation, and Harry wouldnât, even if he could. Itâs part of the trade theyâre in, pretending that every touch is a gesture of desperation, a prelude to a grand romance. So what if itâs not just an act this time?
Catlike, Malfoy slinks his way up Harryâs body and presses a thigh between his legs.
âHello, lover.â Malfoyâs breath is hot against Harryâs ear. âIâm going to kiss you until youâre absolutely mad with it.â
Before his porn career, if someone asked Harry to describe what it would be like to kiss Draco Malfoy, he would have written out a list of adjectives that would make Moaning Myrtle cringe. Biting and acidic, mean and pointy. Threatening, harsh. Not that those things didnât confusingly turn Harry on as he chased Malfoy through the castle halls. He beat off to the idea of Malfoy drawing blood from his lips a fair number of times sixth, and more horribly, seventh year.
Since studying Malfoyâs work, Harry knows heâs not like that at all. Heâs passionate, but solicitous of his partnerâs needs. His lips look sweet-tasting, his tongue seemingly quite talented when heâs coaxing pleasure out of his partners. Harryâs thought about it, imagined it, in a deeply visceral way.
Nothing could prepare him for the reality of it.
Wixen film sets are famously more immersive than Muggle sets. Cameras are hidden; illusion Charms are cast on the walls to transform them into rain-streaked windows that let in moody, pearl-grey light. Even the camera people and director are hidden.
But Harry always remembers heâs working. His body is aware of where everyone is, their magical signatures apparent in different corners of the room. When Harry tunes in, he can even hear the hum and click of the cameras beneath their muffling Charms.
When Malfoyâs lips touch Harryâs, all of thatâevery bit of itâsnaps out of existence. The first brush is tentative, the second deeper and more certain, a flick of tongue against Harryâs lips and the opening of a plush mouth. Harry stills; holds his breath. For a moment, he forgets how to kiss entirely, but his body wakes up when Malfoy puts a sure hand to the centre of his chest and pushes Harry, hard, so he lands on the bed.
When Malfoy swoops in and claims his mouth again, Harry is slightly more prepared. Harry grabs Malfoy by the nape and kisses him with all the longing heâs kept pent up inside of him. When his teeth drag across Malfoyâs smooth, straight jaw, Harry thinks of a decade of furtive midnight wanks. When he licks into Malfoyâs mouth, he recalls the dozens substitute men heâs fucked after watching Malfoy leave a party with someone else, after seeing Malfoy in the Prophet next to the name of a model or an actor, after almost confessing to him in Amsterdam. After almost sayingâwait, donât leave.
Malfoy makes helpless sounds and pants into Harryâs mouth. Every so often, Malfoy rocks his muscular thigh against the obscene bulge in Harryâs jeans. As much as Harry needs to come, he wishes he could kiss Malfoy forever.
(âĄÂ´â`âĄ)*⧠Ⱐ･*
