Author's Notes: Thanks go to Liss and Alex for Brit-picking the car parts. I hope I got them all correct…. *g* Thanks also go to Penguin, for her help with everything else. This fic was written for Frances's birthday.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
" So then Hermione turns to him and says 'Who's the Mudblood now?'" Harry finished.
"Why are we doing this again?"
"Because," Harry replied, unlocking the doors, "you took one look at my new RV8, and said, and I quote, 'I would look hot driving that.'"
"Ah yes." Draco smiled. "And I would, too."
"Yes, much as it pains me to feed your vanity by saying so, you would. But you have to learn to drive first. I still can't believe you've waited so long to learn."
"Well, I never had a good reason to learn before. The rare times my parents and I traveled by car, they had drivers. And since leaving them, I've either just Apparated, or had you to drive me about. You and that horrid Volkswagen Golf thing - why would I want to drive that?"
Harry glared. "It was reliable."
"And about as exciting as one of Professor Binns' lectures."
"I had only just learnt to drive when I bought it, you know. I wasn't about to get something flashier until I was more sure of myself. Come to think of it, why am I letting you drive it for your very first lesson?"
"You see something else to use? You sold the Golf, thank God."
"Unfortunately, you're right. Well, go on, get in the driver's seat and start getting familiar with the controls."
"Just how familiar do you want me to get?" Draco leered, as he settled himself onto the leather surface. Long, tapered fingers trailed suggestively across the dials.
Harry flushed a little, but ably managed an answering retort. "Do you have some car fetish I should be aware of? No? Then let's try to stay focused, shall we? This is serious business; you need to know where everything is, so you're not hunting for it while driving down the motorway at 60 miles an hour."
Harry pretended to ignore that last remark, since he himself had enjoyed the illicit thrill of driving the MG at top speeds. "Anyway, here's the headlights, and the indicator - you need to let people know when you're going to change lanes or turn - and the windshield wipers and-"
"Borrrinnng. When do we get to drive?"
"Do you want to learn or don't you? Look, this is exactly the way I was taught. You have to know these basics before you can actually get on the road, for safety reasons."
"Who taught you, anyway?"
The blond man rolled his eyes. "May I remind you that Weasley is hardly the paragon of safe driving? I seem to recall a certain Ford Anglia that ended up crashing into the Whomping Willow."
"For God's sake, we were only 12 then. I assure you, Ron has had no other incidents with cars smashing into cantankerous trees or anything else."
"Oh, fine. He's a driving ace. Back to my lesson here. I get all those lever things. Now what?"
"Now you learn to change gears. Grip the stick in your left hand, and-"
"You know I always grip my stick in my right hand," Draco interrupted with another smirk. "Five years together, and you still don't remember that? Do you need a demonstration as a reminder?"
There was another rush of colour to Harry's cheeks. His eyes flicked to Draco's lap, before dragging back to the car's controls. "Anyway," he said doggedly, "to change gears, you take your right foot off the accelerator - that's the rightmost pedal -- press your left foot quickly on the clutch - that's the leftmost pedal - move the gearstick, then ease slowly back off the clutch and back on the accelerator." He demonstrated the opposing foot movements with his hands. "And the gearstick moves in this pattern." Again he demonstrated, moving the device quickly through the gears. "First, second, third, fourth, and fifth. Fifth is for when you really feel like fly-I mean, it's for motorway speeds." A stern glare in Draco's direction made it clear to him that 'flying' was not going to be part of the lesson.
Grumbling, Draco dutifully demonstrated his ability to change gears, operate the headlights and other major controls, ("No, you may not just use your wand to magically illuminate the pavement") until, finally, Harry let him take to the road.
"You're doing very well."
"I'm especially impressed that you're remembering to check the rearview mirror so often. That was one thing that gave me trouble when I first learned. Ron had to keep reminding me."
"Well, you obviously didn't have a gorgeous Italian behind you during your lesson."
"What?" Harry craned his neck around. Sure enough, a good-looking man with thick dark hair was driving along behind them. Harry whipped back around before he could be caught staring, and glared at his lover instead. "You're supposed to use the mirror to watch the cars, not the drivers!"
"Well, he's driving a car, isn't he? What's the matter - jealous?"
"No," Harry said shortly, hoping those grey eyes were too busy watching the road - or even the Italian - to notice the flush that had yet again crept up his cheeks. Dammit - why couldn't he ever control himself where Draco was concerned?
"I could move your gearstick if you'd rather ." One pale, long-fingered hand crept across to rest on Harry's thigh.
With effort, Harry stayed in Instructor-mode, ignoring the warm pressure of those fingers on his leg. "Both hands back on the wheel, Draco. We're still in traffic, you know."
"Oh, very well." Deliberately, Draco returned his second hand to the wheel. Then, equally deliberately, he used both hands to turn abruptly onto a side lane; the Italian continued on down the main road. "There. No traffic."
"No indicator, either."
"I'd make a note, but that would require both hands, and I'd hate to think what your reaction might be then."
"Very funny. So, are we driving down this road for any particular reason?"
"Oh, I thought maybe it was time for me to practice working the gearstick again. I hardly had anything to do on the main road back there." There was a definite pout to the full lips.
Harry raised an eyebrow in response. "All right, show me."
Instantly, the pout changed to a smirk. "Well, as I recall, there's 'first'." His left hand returned to Harry's thigh. "Can't really go far in first. So I shift to 'second'." His fingers began lazily stroking the denim-clad leg, wandering idly towards the inner surfaces.
Harry caught his breath as Draco's hand wandered higher, caressing the crease leading to his groin. "Then what?"
He felt a light pressure from without as his lover continued to tease him through the denim, and a more insistent pressure from within as his arousal began to make itself known. Nimbly, the long fingers undid the buttons in Harry's fly, and pulled open the material, even as the grey eyes stared straight ahead at the road, right hand firmly on the wheel. "Third."
"Draco," Harry choked, as that oh-so-talented left hand worked its way under the waistband of his boxers, and started trailing teasing caresses over his abdomen. "Pull over."
"Pull-" Another hiss as Draco's fingers brushed over his length. "--over." With effort, Harry pulled the other's hand away. "This is still your first time, hotshot," he reminded him, somewhat hoarsely. "Well your first time driv- Your first time on the road."
"Problems, love?" The blond man turned his head to smirk in Harry's direction. He brought his left hand, which Harry was still grasping in his right, back to his side of the car, then raised the joined unit so he could take the tip of Harry's index finger into his mouth. His tongue curled around the narrow column, flicking along the pad, before releasing him again. "Some trouble finishing your sentences?"
Harry had to take in a breath before he managed a retort. "No thanks to you, you horny bastard," he answered, pulling his hand back. "But I'm serious. You may be able to ogle gorgeous Italians and drive at the same time, but I'm really not wanting to test your abilities to multi-task right now. Besides " It was his turn to smirk. "You can do so much more with both hands."
"You just didn't want me to make you come all over the leather seats."
"I thought you wanted me to pull over first?" Draco spotted some hedges and pulled the car over as far as he could, leaving space on the lane for other drivers to get past, without scratching the paint on the branches. He fished a spare blanket from the tiny boot [gosh, how handy!] and they both wriggled through the hedge, to the shelter of a tree on the other side.
"Let's see I believe we were in third gear," Draco murmured silkily as he sat down on the blanket and leaned against the tree trunk. He parted his legs, and tugged the black-haired man into place between them, his back to Draco's chest. Then he reached over to reopen the fly on Harry's jeans, which his lover had hastily buttoned in the process of getting out of the car.
Having dispatched the buttons, he once again slid his hand over Harry's stomach, and into the warmth below. His fingers skated lightly over the skin of his lower abdomen, reaching down further to tease the hidden tangle. Harry's knees fell open as Draco traced the crease where hip met thigh - eliciting a much stronger response than when he had made this same gesture on the outer surface of the denim, earlier; he felt the groan reverberate into his own ribcage, as if he himself had uttered the sound.
As the dark head fell back against his shoulder, Draco took advantage of the situation. Within seconds, he had begun tracing the shell of his lover's ear with his tongue, swirling up the curved ridge, and then down the valley behind; he took the earlobe into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the soft little tab, listening to the small noises Harry made in response, letting them feed his own arousal.
"Fourth." In a sudden gesture, his fingers curled firmly around Harry, making him gasp anew. The hand moved back and forth, short and sharp, then with longer strokes, finding the rhythm he knew drove the dark-haired man crazy. With his free hand, he turned Harry's face to meet his and, for the first time since leaving their bed this morning, their lips met in a kiss. Electricity zinged up his spine as Harry matched him, kiss for kiss; lips parted, hungry, demanding; tongues eager, seeking, exploring. The pressure of Harry's body against the V of his legs was almost unbearable, and he resisted the urge to thrust his hips forward against that weight. Instead, Draco concentrated on his lover, drawing his lips away from Harry's mouth, working his way down Harry's throat; halfway down, he paused to suck on the pulse point on the bared neck, enjoying the way he could feel the throb of his lover's heartbeat against his tongue and against his fingers below, a scant millisecond apart. Without breaking the rhythm with his one hand, he used the other to unbutton Harry's shirt and, shifting Harry's weight off to one side, he continued to tongue his way down the slim body.
Before long, he had Harry stretched out on the blanket, where Draco could see and reach everything more fully. The jeans and boxers had been removed, Harry pushing his hips upward to help ease them off, and his shirt lay completely open, barely clinging to his shoulders. Green eyes returned his steady grey gaze and, though there were no words, long experience told Draco exactly what was going on behind those jade irises - the antithesis of the emotions he'd first seen on the train so long ago. Where suspicion and dislike had once flared, trust and desire -- need -- now shone. Need he had every intention of fulfilling.
Kneeling in the space between Harry's open legs, he ran his hands evenly down the tanned chest; down, down, down, parting on either side of his lover's erection to curve around the narrow hips. Then, bending his head down, Draco whispered, "Fifth."
Harry felt the warmth of Draco's lips close around the end; he pushed his hips upward in response, an unvolitional gesture entirely unlike the conscious effort he had made when his jeans had been tugged off earlier. But Draco held him fast by the hips, keeping him pressed to the blanket. He was the driver; he was in charge. All Harry could do was grip the blanket and hang on.
At first, Draco was content to just tease Harry, working his tongue around the head, swirling lightly, then withdrawing to blow narrow caresses of breath along the shaft. Gradually, he increased his gestures, licking his way down to the base, and then back up again. Pausing to suck at the sensitive ridge on the underside. And then, finally, taking the entire length in his mouth.
"Draco ." Harry's strangled cry echoed in his ears, saying so much more than just his name. In response, Draco relinquished his hold on Harry's hips and reached out to grip his hands instead. Their fingers twined together as he worked his lover to the climax he'd been so skillfully building up.
There was no sound to mark the final plunge over the edge. Harry's laboured breathing simply cut off as his back arched and he flung his head back into the rumpled blanket beneath him. He held the pose a long moment, a frozen vision of ecstasy, before releasing his breath in shuddering gasps to match the trembling of his body.
Mission accomplished, Draco pulled himself up to stretch out fully next to his partner. He worked one arm under the lightly-muscled shoulders, to cradle Harry's head against his chest. They lay quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the late-morning sunshine and each other, until finally Harry raised his head and looked at the blond man with a lazy, satisfied smile.
"You pass. Well, 'gear-shifting,' anyway."
"Yes, I thought that demonstration went rather well."
"Mmmhmmm." Harry had begun lazily tracing his fingers over Draco's chest. "Still, I think I must insist ."
" next time, I drive."
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