Draco lets go of his prick and fists his hand into Harry’s hair instead.  "Is this—" His hips stutter forward, but Harry is moaning, and Draco thinks it might be okay to fuck Harry’s mouth, and he can’t stop himself, not when Harry starts sucking him slow and tight, his lips and tongue making obscene slurping noises with every careful thrust of Draco’s hips.  It’s heaven. It’s velvety, pink, wet heaven, and Draco grunts as he gets closer, but then Harry starts choking; when he taps Draco’s thigh, Draco has to let go.