Closeted
Harry waited in the dark. A broom handle poked him in the back and he tried to shuffle it around. There really wasn't much room here. But enough, he hoped. He took his glasses off and put them in his pocket. They would only get in the way.
The door opened and a shadowed form slipped inside the cupboard. Yes! Harry thought. He hadn't been too sure his invitation would be accepted. But now that it had, it was time for the next part of his plan. Talking would be awkward and probably not productive, so the plan called for the direct approach.
He moved forward, arms open. As it turned out, they both were moving forward at the same time and they collided with a bump. But they clutched at each other and soon the boys were wound around one another, kissing like this was their last night on earth.
Harry could hardly believe this was happening. His back was to the wall now and a broom handle was poking his calf, but he didn't care. All he cared about was pressing that body as close to his as possible, about getting his hands all over that back and arse and thighs, about stroking that tongue with his own, again and again and again.
Then a hand slid down between their bodies to grab Harry's cock and Harry didn't think he would care about anything else as long as he lived.
It didn't take long to make him come, his breath stopped in his lungs and fingers curling tightly. "Oh, Ron," he sighed and slumped bonelessly on that perfect shoulder.
Next thing he knew, he was flat on his arse on the floor, broom handle poking somewhere much more personal.
"Potter?"
"Malfoy?" Now Harry truly wished it was his last night on earth. "What the fuck were you doing?"
"I should think that was obvious. The question is why are you here?"
"None of your business."
"Judging by your cry of passion just now, you were expecting the Weasel."
Harry didn't know what was worse -- finding out that he'd been making out with Malfoy or that Ron hadn't bothered to come. Any chance of that was probably shot to hell now. "How about you? Who stood you up?"
"Do you really think I'm going to tell you that? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take several baths and scour my mouth out ... oh, fuck."
"What?"
"The door is locked."
"So get your wand out."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Shut up, Malfoy, and unlock the door."
"The lock is on the outside, Potter. I can't open it from here."
"You're sure?"
"Trust me, Potter, being locked in a cupboard with you is not my idea of a dream date."
There was a clatter and Draco swore again. Harry pondered casting Lumos, but decided he didn't want to look at Draco. "Maybe Ron will show up after all."
"Forget it, he's probably shagging Granger right now." Draco sighed.
They were in for a long wait. Or maybe they could figure out some other way out. Harry didn't particularly want the whole school to know he'd been in here with Draco. He leaned back against the wall and stretched out his legs. His calf slid up against Draco's.
"Move your leg, Potter. It's touching mine."
"Why should I move? You move."
"I'm not moving. I was there first."
"You don't like it, you move." Harry pressed his leg against Draco's a bit more, just to irritate him.
"This is all your fault." Draco pressed back, and moved his leg up and down. It felt ... it felt ...
Harry had no time to articulate how it felt because then they were rolling on the floor together and he was more interested in how that felt: really, really, really good. Like he'd eaten a whole package of Fiery Feast Cinnamon Red Hots and the spicy burn was spreading out over his whole body.
He pulled at Draco's robes until they gave and he could get his hands on smooth warm skin. Draco was biting Harry's shoulder, his neck, his chest. Harry found a spot just beneath Draco's jaw and sucked it while his hand worked up and down on Draco's cock, the smoothest, warmest skin of all.
Draco hissed when he came and bit harder. Harry wiped his hand on Draco's robes and sucked in his breath as Draco's mouth moved down, down, and then the Red Hots exploded in his brain and they were done.
"We have to get this fucking door open," Draco said.
"Just don't touch me again."
"You were the one who touched me first."
"You're still touching me now."
"There's no room in here."
"That was sort of the idea. When I didn't think I'd be in here with you."
"Nice plan, Potter."
"Stop touching me!"
"Make me."
Ron stared at the two nearly identical notes. "I don't understand," he said. "Who are these from? Should I go and see what they want?"
"Let me see." Hermione took them and looked closely. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth twitched as she recognized the handwriting. "It's probably just a prank, Ron. I think I heard Seamus say something about it." She crumpled the notes and dropped them on the fire. "Anyhow, there's something I want to show you down by the lake. I just have to do an errand first."
On their way back from the lake, Hermione unlocked the cupboard door. It was half an hour before Harry and Draco noticed.