@phoebe-delia, I love a good Tedrarry fic and, surprisingly, I’ve never written them before! Thank you so much for prompting them!
💟 @kinktober-2025 day 5: finger sucking
💟 cousin (pre-)incest, cottagecore, domesticity
I love visiting Harry and Draco’s house in the summer. They’ve got this cute little cottage in Godric’s Hollow. A garden full of flowers, a whole room full of Muggle curiosities. When I was really little, I would sit with them in the garage, watch Harry’s oil-slick fingers as he tinkered with the motorbike, watch Draco lick his lips in between reading off instructions from the manual.
Harry still likes to cook. He turns the radio up high and dances around the kitchen with the apron I gave him tied around his waist. Draco laughs, lips stretching wide in delight. Harry leaves a smudge of flour on his cheek, then chases me around the kitchen until he marks me too.
Harry’s fingers are warm. They have callouses from gripping a broom. They smell like lavender from the fancy soap Draco likes to use.
Draco catches Harry’s floury hand, brings it to his mouth, and leaves a kiss on the back. Seeing Harry’s hand near Draco’s mouth makes my chest ache in a weird way. Harry and Draco have always been touchy, like they don’t believe in personal space, but this summer is different — more. Sometimes, I have to leave the room because it makes me feel too much.
Maybe I’m just being sensitive. This is my last summer with them, before I leave for the Continent, now that I no longer have Hogwarts tying me down.
It happens again while we are watching telly. Draco’s head is in Harry’s lap, Harry’s fingers gently carding through his hair. It’s rhythmic, slow, hypnotising — impossible not to watch.
Harry’s fingers stroke down Draco’s face, over the sharp planes of his cheeks. Grandma Andy says I have the same cheekbones, the Black family genes. Draco turns his head, leaving fleeting kisses across Harry’s fingertips.
Harry’s fingers linger, soften, trace over the seam of Draco’s lips. Draco exhales, his lips parting, allowing one of Harry’s fingers to slip inside. I see the flash of Draco’s teeth, a glimpse of his shiny pink tongue.
I feel my mouth opening to match Draco’s. My lips tingle with just the thought of Harry’s fingers.
Draco sucks Harry’s finger in. I imagine what it feels like, what it tastes like. I wonder if Draco can feel the callouses on Harry’s knuckles, if he likes licking the nailbeds with his tongue. I wonder how different Harry’s cock would feel — hotter, thicker, longer.
Harry groans, a quiet sound, barely audible over the hum of the telly. He adds another finger.
It’s too much, too overwhelming. I stand shakily from the armchair, wish them both a goodnight. In my room, I rub myself off against the pillow, fingers stuffed into my mouth to stifle my moans.
“You’re a tease,” Draco says later, pulling off, lips swollen and red.
“I know,” Harry says. He’s seen the way Teddy looks at them, at Harry’s hands, at Draco’s mouth. “He’ll come around soon.” He weaves his fingers through Draco’s hair and pulls him closer again.
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