Current mood:

Stupid

Eurgh - the shame!
Sorry to be so late, but here is the dratted thing. I think I may slink away into a corner and hide, cause I really, really don't like this.

As usual, thanks goes to moonglow_girl for betaing!

Title: Confiscated
Author: mony2208
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: Oh god – NC-17 *nods* My first one, eeek!
Disclaimer: I doubt the real owner of Harry Potter (ie: JKR) would want this to be happening with her characters, so unfortunately no, all things HP definitely do not belong to me.
Notes: Darling Lily, this is for you. I’m expecting many sexual favours as I don’t think I have stopped blushing since I began writing this (and I guarantee you that the tomato look on my face is grossly unflattering). Anyway, I do hope you like this. I’ve been very unsure about writing this, but since I figured you wanted detailed toy porn, here it is. (I still hate it though)

Confiscated



That morning began like any typical morning would for the two occupants at 16 Gurrets Lane.

The sun rose steadily into the sky, its rays shining blindingly through the main bedroom window. The next door neighbours could be heard clanging pots together for an early, if not rowdy breakfast. One of the two occupants, a young raven-haired man, lay curled comfortably under his bed covers, dreaming of licking chocolate sauce from his naked lover’s body, and …

Bleep! Bleep! Bleep! Get up you lazy layabout! Bleeeeeeep!

… the young man, who was no other than the wizarding hero, Harry Potter, fell out of his bed with a startled grunt at the sound of his seriously disturbed magical alarm clock.

From his position on the ground, Harry swore colourfully, how he hated that damn clock, and fumbling for his wand with his eyes still half-closed, he aimed it upwards to where the damn thing was still screeching. Two seconds and a well-placed ‘stupefy’ later, a relieved sigh escaped Harry’s lips as the sound desisted, and after untangling himself from the sheets, he opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit at the edge of the bed.

His glasses lay neatly beside him, but Harry didn’t need them to look nor did he need to feel behind him to see that the double bed’s other occupant had not - as always - been present throughout the debacle. He was, no doubt already having a peaceful breakfast in the kitchen.

Harry couldn’t help chuckling as he went through the motions of getting dressed. His lover of two years was no fan of divination, but when it came to the magical clock and its alarm, he had a sixth sense to when it would go off and - being the Slytherin he had always been – would always avoid that exact moment, leaving Harry to its mercies.

Of course, sometimes his lover would be merciful and be the one to wake Harry up in a much more pleasanter and preferred way, but that was only a rare occasion as Harry really was not a morning person, and before a good coffee had filtered through his system, his lover wasn’t one either.

As he yawned and squinted his way through the apartment, Harry hoped that the coffee had had plenty of time to filter through that morning. After what had happened, or more specifically what had not happened the night before, Harry didn’t need to have any divinistic talents either to know that his lover would not be particularly pleased with him that morning.

~*~

And pleased he wasn’t seemed to be the understatement when Harry stumbled blearily into the kitchen, and offered a polite good morning to his boyfriend.

Not only did said boyfriend – from his position on the kitchen table - Draco Malfoy didn’t answer, but he even pointedly ignored Harry’s presence, focusing only on the newspaper he had importantly held out in front of his face.

Harry stopped mid-stride to blink incredulously, and feeling as if he was back at the Dursleys, he looked back over his shoulder. Normally he would shake off the ridiculous feeling, as he knew that Draco loved him, but when he took another look, he couldn’t help but be dismayed. Instead of the two usual coffees that would be on the table at this time every morning, there were only one, and instead of the sport section lying in Harry’s place of the table like every other morning, Draco had not separated it from the rest of the paper. Harry could see it in clear sight at the back of the paper.

All was definitely not well in the Potter and Malfoy apartment.

Harry scowled, turning away from Draco to roughly grab a fresh loaf of bread from the cupboard.

Fine, he thought, slamming the door to the cupboard shut, fuming. Just fine. If Draco was going to continue to make such a big deal about not putting out last night, then Harry wasn’t going to bother talking to him either.

It certainly wasn’t Harry’s fault he had had to spend the whole of last night finishing off a report for work. He certainly didn’t enjoy being stuck behind his desk, having to fill out parchment after parchment for hour after hour. Wasn’t it clear that he would have rather spent that time giving Draco the shag he was so obviously aiming for? Wasn’t it obvious how hard it was to refuse?

Harry harrumphed indignantly. Obviously not. Draco had been aiming for something ever since he had returned home from work that previous day, and even after Harry had firmly told him that he’d have to work all night on a report, Draco hadn’t given up.

He should have known it was foolish to hope that by this morning, everything could have all been forgotten. After all, last night’s disagreement had begun one of their most heated arguments yet, and with Harry’s dreaded report to be done - which he had refused point blank to leave - they weren’t able to solve it with some great make-up sex like they usually did.

But that was the whole reason behind the fight in the first place. Draco wanted sex, and he couldn’t provide.

Harry couldn’t help scowling again at that. Unlike what Draco had said, he had really wanted to do whatever it was that Draco had planned. He just didn’t have the time and after the last report that he’d handed up late (because of Draco), he couldn’t do it again. And to be honest, now it was really starting to get on his nerves, if Draco sulking on the table was anything to go by. Draco never seemed to realise that it wasn’t always: what Draco wants, Draco always gets.

Against his will, Harry’s eyes began to flutter closed, and he stifled another yawn. He was just so tired. He’d only ended up getting about three hours sleep and fighting to keep his libido under control with Draco was always draining.

Sighing inwardly, he mechanically grabbed a piece of bread and headed for the toaster. The quicker he could eat, the quicker he could leave for work.

But after ten seconds of the bread clearly not slotting into the toaster, Harry’s half-closed eyes peered curiously into it, then widened with shock.

“Jeez, how the hell did that get in there?” he exclaimed, pulling an unusual looking clump of charcoaled fabric out gently and bringing it up to eye level. Within a moment of intense scrutiny, Harry recognised what it used to be and shot an expectant glare to Draco.

Draco didn’t bother to lower the newspaper as he supplied the answer. “I couldn’t very well put a heating charm on them, could I?” he said snidely, looking quite put-off. “I didn’t have my wand.”

He needn’t had to say why he hadn’t had his wand with him at the time; Harry having confiscated it the sixth time Draco had tried to spell the clothes off his body whilst he had been trying to write the report in his study.

Harry sighed, spelling the toaster clean of all the charred pieces of his favourite snitch decorated socks. Draco in a snit was such a hazard to all his possessions.

“Must I still go over where everything should be?” he asked reprovingly as he leant forward to peer into it again. It looked like it had blown a fuse somewhere. Typical.

They’d moved into their muggle apartment less than two months before; both Harry and Draco’s identities in the wizarding world left no room for privacy in a magical house, especially Harry’s previous house, 12 Grimmauld House, which also left too many bitter memories for Harry to live there.

But in those two months, Harry had given Draco a lecture worthy of Hermione on all things muggle as soon as they had stepped through the door, so Draco had, by now, known perfectly well how to use everything in their house, no excuses.

Gritting his teeth as he disposed of the socks, Harry turned his attention to Draco with an expectant glare.

Once again, Draco hardly indicated that he was paying any attention to the other boy, until he spoke.

“Not everything. I think I have the drift of where certain parts of my anatomy should be,” he returned smoothly, the newspaper crackling slightly as his pale, slender fingers turned a page. “It’s just I don’t think everything in this house is being very co-operative at the moment – as you well know of course.”

“Maybe,” said Harry, through those still gritted teeth. His hands tightly gripped the side of the kitchen bench. “there are some things in this house which do not always concern you.”

“Pity,” was Draco’s casual reply, “the cards are still on the table if one were to be interested.”

Gulping heavily, Harry reminded himself to stay strong, and that Draco wasn’t going to win this argument – even if he had snapped out of his sulk to resort to comments that, in the past, had led to them doing many unmentionable, but great, things on the kitchen table.

“I have to – hand in my report,” he managed to ground out, determinedly putting the bread away. If he could kill Voldemort, he could certainly not make a big deal out of any of Draco’s comments and swallow any arousal they might bring up. “So not now.”

There was the sound of another page turning. “Suit yourself,” Draco said, and though, Harry didn’t turn to face Draco when he said it, he was almost certain that a shrug would have accompanied those words, as if Harry was missing out on something big.

“Well,” he said to change the subject abruptly. He poured himself some coffee and took a sip. “I think I’ll just have some cereal this morning seeing as the toaster’s not working, then I’ll be on my way.”

Draco didn’t answer him that time, something apparently catching his attention in the newspaper. “No, no you twits. Wands have far more uses than just magic.” Unfortunately though, he seemed just as determined to keep with the blatant innuendos as Harry was to ignore them.

Harry choked on his coffee, forcing back the blush that threatened to emerge and losing his moment of clarity. What was he going to do again? He looked around, desperately trying to remember. His eyes lit up as they locked onto a clean bowl by the sink. Ah, yes! Cereal.

Thankfully, no more talk from Draco was heard as Harry busied himself taking out the cereal and pouring the desired amount of cereal and milk into it. Then with one hand holding the bowl, and the other reaching out for the sports section in Draco’s grips, he headed for the seat beside Draco.

Who rudely snatched the newspaper away, as he leant further back in his chair.

Amidst Harry’s indignant protests, Draco lowered the paper slightly and Harry could just see his gleaming grey eyes as he smoothly asked, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Harry huffed at the clear taunt in Draco’s tone.

“If you are waiting for another apology, then you are sorely mistaken.” he said snidely, then went on to softly mumble. “S’not my fault you’ve got the libido of one of Hagrid’s bloody hippogriffs-”

“The spoon dammit!” Draco burst out exasperatedly, losing his composure for the first time that morning. Harry jumped. Obviously, underneath all those innuendo’s, abstinence really </i>didn’t</i> do a Malfoy good. “You need a bloody spoon!”

Harry just sat there, mouth still open in shock at his rather frazzled looking boyfriend.

Expelling an annoyed breath, Draco brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from his suit, and settled back down to read the newspaper as though the little outburst had never occurred. His eyes still held a wild look about them though.

Harry still didn’t move from the table, eyeing Draco with confusion and no small amount of suspicion. He meaningfully leant forward onto his elbows to fix Draco an intense looking glare.

“Okay Malfoy,” he said slowly, reverting to last names so Draco would realise just how old this was getting. “Why won’t you desist this – this attitude? Is there a reason why you can’t just wait until I get home tonight, why you’ve been so insistent?”

“No reason,” Draco said innocently, picking up his coffee and blowing on it in an annoyingly erotic way.

Harry tore his eyes away with an effort.

“Look - I can’t understand what’s gotten into you. You haven’t been this – this frisky since discovering that muggle television showed porn.”

That got Draco’s attention. “Malfoy’s don’t act frisky.” He spat the last word out like it was dirt. “We just have a high stamina for sexual activities as you should well know by now.”

“But I told you that I couldn’t-”

“Just go get your damn spoon!” Draco snapped, obviously unwilling to hear any more excuses. “You don’t want to be late at handing up that report, do you?”

Harry cursed as Draco turned to his newspaper once more, and stood back up again to fetch a spoon. He could have just summoned a spoon to him, but with the level of his magic, he’d be lucky if even their neighbour’s spoons didn’t come along for the ride. He’d definitely learnt his lesson after the disastrous lubricant summoning three months before.

He screwed up his nose at that thought, opening the drawer to the cutlery and quickly going to pick up any old spoon.

What he grabbed along with a spoon however, was something he would have never expected.

“Draco,” Harry said slowly, gulping. This morning had been an absolute disaster. No Draco wake-up call, no ready made coffee or sports page, his favourite socks found burnt in the toaster, Draco’s innuendo’s. But now this? What has gotten into Draco? Narrowing his eyes, Harry turned to the other man, and his voice took on a dangerous edge as he continued. “What is this and how did it get in the cutlery drawer?”

This time, Draco casually looked up from his newspaper to see the object Harry had pinched reluctantly between two fingers. “I put it there and I think you know what it is.” he answered. “I’m sure you are familiar with - muggle implements after all.”

Harry barely stifled his snort. Of course he knew what it was. One of those very things had caused Ron to have fits for a week, after finding out that Hermione had owned one during Hogwarts.

“Draco,” he said desperately, not wanting to think about that incident or what he held in his hands could be used for. “you can’t put that with the rest of the cutlery. It – it’s disgusting.”

“Well, I just thought they might want to spoon,” said Draco, lip curling as his silver eyes sparkled mischievously.

Harry was finding it increasingly hard not to be amused by that comment. His eye twitched with the effort. “Not funny, Draco. We eat with those things, and they shouldn’t be mixed up by that.”

Draco stood up abruptly, dropping the newspaper to the table with a flourish. “You’re right,” he announced unexpectedly, Harry’s mouth dropping in surprise. Draco was backing down? What happened to Draco’s “I’m always right” attitude? Could he have possibly realised there was more than one side to every story?

…Of course he should have known better.

Draco pushed back his chair and coolly raised an eyebrow as he continued on. “That should be mixed up with something else – two sweaty, aroused men I think is a preferred mixture, don’t you think?”

Harry’s mind conjured up the image before he could stop himself, and he groaned just the slightest.

“Draco,” he said with an effort, steadying himself against the fridge as his knees has suddenly gone shaky. There was only so much he could refuse. “We can’t discuss this now. We’ll be late for work.”

“I’m sure we’re allowed one sick day. You are the Golden boy after all,” Draco stopped and smirked irresistibly, “and I – well I am extremely convincing when I want to be.”

Approaching Harry, who remained speechless, Draco gracefully plucked the incriminating item from Harry’s sweaty fingers and deliberately ran a long finger down the length of it. Harry licked his lips unconsciously as his eyes helplessly followed Draco’s every movement. It was – after all, quite realistic looking.

“I think you know where I want to see this, Harry.” Draco murmured huskily, transferring one hand to trail around Harry’s waist and rest just above his tailbone. “I got it just for you.”

“Draco, look can’t we wait to do this until we finish work?” Harry pleaded, decidedly not looking at the object in front of him. “I need to give in that report – you know the one I’ve been trying to work on all of last night.”

Harry tried to fix a dark glare onto Draco, who remained unaffected.

“No.” he said simply, but his voice brooked no room for argument. “We are going to do this right now. I have been waiting all day and all night to give this to you, and now’s my last chance.” Draco breathed, stepping even closer until their chests were brushing against one another.

“B- but work.” Harry’s protests were getting weaker and feebler; he knew it, and Draco knew it; who in return smirked again and pushed Harry into the fridge.

“Come on, Potter.” Draco teased, twirling the object around haphazardly. “Don’t tell me you’re too scared for just one round?”

Harry straightened defensively, distantly realising he was being played, but finding he didn’t mind in the slightest. Not after all the years he’d spent with his blonde-haired Slytherin. “I am not. I’ll take whatever you dish out, Malfoy.”

“Don’t you mean whatever I spoon out?” Draco murmured, and Harry was given no chance to answer before Draco swept him into a deep and passionate kiss.

Defeated, but again not really minding, Harry wrapped both arms around Draco’s waist, pulling the other boy in closer and returning the kiss just as eagerly.

They’d barely broken apart for air before Draco gave Harry an insistent tug with the arms still wrapped around his waist.

“Let’s go to our bedroom.” Draco suggested huskily.

~*~

In a tangle of arms and legs, Harry and Draco carelessly stumbled their way through the apartment; small grunts being heard amongst the persistent kisses as Harry was shoved back first into many a wall or any other convenient object that was in their path.

One of those times - when they had almost reached the bedroom - a nearby table was included in on the destructive mode of Draco’s, and Harry unlatched his lips long enough to look down in horror after the sound of a very suspicious crash.

“Oh no,” he moaned, his mind not having to work hard at reconstructing the many dozens of pieces that the object had broken into. The large ear currently being crunched under Draco’s shiny black shoes was almost a dead-giveaway. “Hermione’s house elf.”

It had been a Christmas present to the both of them last year – a statue of one very free (and not very clothes-oriented, Draco had distastefully added at the time) house elf, practically a miniature version of the statue standing outside Hermione’s official S.P.E.W office.

A growl came somewhere from the back of Draco’s throat, returning Harry back to the present.

“Tell her we set it free,” Draco said impatiently, pressing his lips back against Harry’s so insistently that Harry soon forgot about the broken statue - even when he stepped on the other ear - as they continued their fumbling way to the bedroom.

Like with everything else, Harry’s back was the first to hit the closed bedroom door, almost shaking the poor rickety thing off its hinges as it creaked against both his and Draco’s weight. A bit of fumbling on Harry’s part had the obstruction quickly open though, and almost losing their balance as the door swung open, the two wasted no more time in crossing the length of their shared bedroom and making their way to the four poster bed.

Harry missed the school days where he could drag Draco down with the handy school tie, but as his knees hit the frame of the bed and he sank down backwards onto the soft bed, he settled for the front of the other boy’s work robe, yanking it forward so that Draco immediately fell atop him with a startled grunt.

It wasn’t very coordinated and it wasn’t exactly comfortable either, being pressed against the bottom of the bed; he could feel the frame digging into his lower back, but Harry always relished the moments of extreme closeness they had. He knew that if he rested one hand just along Draco’s neckline – his fingers trailing idly around his lover’s graceful neck just like he was doing at that very moment - he would always feel his lover’s racing and erratic pulse. He knew that if he lifted the other hand to Draco’s cheek just like he was doing at that very moment, he’d also see the usually pale skin flushed, and actually feel underneath his fingers that it was hot to the touch. And he knew that every time he were ever to do any of those things, it brought new feelings of wonder to Harry, because he knew that it was he that was the cause for all this – that his mere presence would always amazingly ignite something in Draco that nobody had ever been able to spark up before. And vice versa.

Feeling a rush of love for his blonde-haired, Slytherin lover, who was staring back at him wordlessly, Harry’s lips curled into a fond grin, and shifting both hands upwards, his fingers weaved through those blonde locks. He tugged them ever so gently forward, but firm enough that Draco got the idea and leant forward to softly cover his mouth with soft, familiar lips once more.

Harry closed his eyes in bliss, the fingers by Draco’s neck and cheek curling slightly of their own accord as he lost himself in his lover’s artful kiss.

The gentle, lingering kiss didn’t last long however, and it only took a few minutes before their passion once again rose.

Still clothed, the two began grinding against one another, working up a slow rhythm that left both gasping. Harry’s head fell backwards from the sensation, and Draco was quick to begin an equally passionate attack on his bared neck.

Groaning, Harry’s hands roamed underneath Draco’s untucked shirt - feeling the muscles rippling under his touch – and with a wicked grin, he began to direct his hands around Draco’s front, appreciatively tweaking at hardened nipples.

Harry felt Draco’s heartfelt moan on his neck and spurred on, one hand began to trail downwards towards his navel, and the other tugged at his Draco’s pants, wanting to get rid of the hindrance. To Harry’s indignant protests, Draco pulled away from the latter hand, abruptly rising from the bed to stand beside it, where Harry’s robe had hastily been thrown off in the previous trip towards the bed.

But Harry didn’t notice the fallen robe; his piercing, lust-filled eyes were now only focused on Draco, watching in anticipation as Draco first rid himself of all his clothes, and then gave a lovely view of his rounded backside as he bent to pick up something from the ground.

Almost of their own accord, Harry whimpered and outstretched both arms in an invitation for Draco to fall into. He had almost been trembling with need as soon as his favourite sight to see had been revealed. Naked Draco.

Watching Draco so intently, the previously unnoticed object that Draco had bent over for, was suddenly pointed towards his direction and Harry blinked in surprise. He barely had the time to recognise the object as Draco’s confiscated wand before Draco spouted a few soft, select words that sent sparks his way.

In a way that left him gasping, the sparks surrounded Harry, and all of his clothes suddenly just flew off his body; erotically curling their way down the length of his body until they pooled together on the ground beside Draco’s feet.

When Harry recovered from the spectacle, his glazed over eyes caught Draco’s, who was still standing beside the bed, but now had one knee and one arm propping him up as he leant over Harry.

“Bet you don’t mind me using that spell now,” he drawled, looking awfully smug as molten grey eyes trailed down Harry’s now extremely nude body.

There was only one way to treat an incredibly cocky Slytherin (and Harry meant that in the most literal of terms).

An arm snaked out to pull Draco back onto the bed. “Shut up,” Harry growled in an ordering, no-nonsense type of voice.

And whether or not it was because his tongue was busily occupied or Draco was really impatient for sex, but for once Draco obeyed.

Moving away from Harry’s lips, he began moving south, leaving a wet trail down Harry’s jaw and down his neck. When he reached Harry’s chest, Draco tweaked both of Harry’s nipples the same way he’d done to Draco only minutes before, and then at different intervals, drew both in for a quick lavishing with his tongue. Harry arched his back, hands weaving into Draco’s blonde locks to encourage more, but Draco quickly moved on, sucking and licking his way down to Harry’s navel.

Draco stopped abruptly as he lowered beyond Harry’s navel, eyes flicking upwards towards Harry’s, and Harry, overcome with need, shifted urgently until Draco was almost there.

“Ohhhh,” Harry moaned, still wriggling forward as much as he possibly could. Draco was so close.

A low chuckled sounded. “Patience Harry.”

The teasing words were breathed over Harry’s erection, making him shudder and curse the blonde-haired Slytherin, but thankfully, the devilish mouth opened and soon Harry forgot about anything but the mouth currently reacquainting itself with his aching, hard length.

He even went rigid for a split second. “Oh – fuck.” he cried out, acutely aware as Draco’s mouth slowly moved up and down his full length. The pace was torturous, and just as his eyes had almost rolled to the back of his head, Draco pulled back.

“Hey!” Harry was aware he was whining, but dammit, that wasn’t fair.

Draco smirked, probably knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Haven’t you forgotten about my little present?” he asked in a sing-song kind of way.

It took a while for Harry’s mind to process the question and even more to figure out the answer, but eventually his eyes drifted towards the base of the bed, where a certain muggle sex toy was lying.

“Well? Are you actually going to do something with that anytime soon?” he asked impatiently. His situation wasn’t going to go away by itself, he added silently, and he really wasn’t in the mood for any more games. He was already late for work – and this might as well be worth the mountains of papers that he would undoubtedly have to write when he did eventually turn up.

Draco looked behind him and then back at Harry, his smirk unwavering. “Well of course.”

And before Harry could answer, Draco simultaneously lowered his head and tied Harry’s hands above his head.

Harry arched his back, overwhelmed by the sensation of Draco’s tongue licking over him, and went to reach out a -

Wait. Just. A. Minute.

“Draco,” he whined, tugging experimentally at the bonds that kept his hands quite immobile. They didn’t hurt, feeling devilishly silky actually, but they were strong enough to do their purpose; keep Harry’s hands away from the one place he wanted them. Scowling, Harry went to wriggle away, but his hips were caught in an iron grip and pushed back down onto the bed.

Draco’s lips came together to form a smug grin as Harry glared down at him, and slowly, deliberately, he flicked out his tongue to moisten his lips, molten eyes never leaving glazed emerald. Harry groaned as the slightest of touches was felt on his hard length again, his hips desperate but unable to buck upwards because of Draco’s well-placed hands.

“You made me wait all night for this.” Draco said deviously. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I get what I planned for.”

Harry shuddered as the hot breath ghosted over his erection, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. “It wasn’t – my fault,” he gasped out, fists clenching.

He felt a light finger begin to trail the wet path of Draco’s tongue, but it went further down than what the tongue had and Harry wriggled again, his legs spreading open as it reached his entrance. At the same time Draco licked his length, Harry felt a pressure circling him, and then that same - albeit now also warm and slick - finger slide swiftly inside.

Another began to join in on the action, Harry getting more tense and impatient with the double attention, and by the time Draco had finished scissoring inside with two fingers, he felt more than ready.

“Draco,” he said in a husky voice that he used as a last resort. He knew Draco couldn’t resist it, just the same as if he were to clench his thighs around the two fingers, which he was also doing at the very moment. “Now.”

There was the sound of a breathy gasp, and Draco’s fingers and tongue stopped both of their actions to move away to the bottom of the bed. Harry opened his mouth to protest at the loss, but Draco returned quickly, settling himself in between Harry’s spread legs, and with a tingle of anticipation, Harry caught sight of Draco carefully slicking the muggle vibrator.

He wriggled persistently, flexing his wrists in the bonds just in the off chance, Draco mightn’t intend for him to remain in that position the entire time.

But no such luck.

Draco looked up with a smirk, shaking his head and tutting. “You’ve just got to sit back and take it, Potter,” he said, “’cause I guarantee that you are about to endeavour on a ride of pleasure that no muggle or wizard alike has ever experienced.”

And then, ever so slowly, Draco pushed it in.

Harry couldn’t deny the initial moments of pain as it steadily pushed past every tight ring of muscle, filling him; it was hardly any smaller than Draco, and as always, it took a while before Harry could accommodate for the sheer size.

But when the pain had receded and Draco pulled it out only to angle it back in just … there, Harry saw stars, and any lingering pain was quickly forgotten.

Absolute drivel poured from Harry’s mouth, probably pleadings of some sort, but Harry just couldn’t take the time to think properly, let alone do anything else except succumb to Draco’s ministrations. How could he have ever even thought of arguing against doing this?

Then Draco lowered his head and swallowed Harry whole.

“Oh – god.” Harry arched his back as far as he could go, straining against his bonds.

Draco hummed around him, sucking hard as his hand continued to push it in and out of Harry with quick, erratic movements.

Harry knew he was on the edge and that he wouldn’t last long. The combination of Draco’s mouth and the fullness he was experiencing had him helplessly arching his back and moaning Draco’s name continuously.

But if Harry had thought that was his limit, he had been dead wrong.

Stopping his sucking for a brief moment, Draco’s eyes lowered to the implement half in Harry, and his long, slender fingers reached forward to touch something at the base of it.

And suddenly, Harry was filled with a buzzing so overwhelming, it spread its way through every inch of his already pleasure-filled body. Harry’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. It was too much. He forgot where he was, where he was supposed to be. His whole body felt like it was just floating on a breeze, weightless as a feather, because instead of the feeling of Draco’s special silk sheets under him, all he could feel was a constant buzzing that wrapped around every nerve ending and every sense.

“Fuck,” he gasped, even his throat feeling the buzzing as he swallowed. This was so not muggle-made.

“Oh yes,” Draco breathed. He twisted it inside Harry, resuming his unrelenting sucking.

Harry was aware, only at a distant level, that Draco had only one hand occupied with the vibrator, and that the other one was, most probably, attending to his own needs. He wasn’t aware, though of exactly how far Draco was compared to him, but it was more than Harry could take any longer, and crying out loudly as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms in his life, Harry jerked forward and his release shot into Draco’s mouth.

Harry collapsed onto the bed, completely spent, and barely noticed when moments later, Draco too reached orgasm, flicked the bonds away, and gently pulled out the sex god of all toys.

When Harry’s clouded mind finally returned back down to Earth, he felt Draco wrap his arms around him, then pull them both under the ruffled covers. Harry sighed, resting his head against Draco’s still heaving chest.

“That was …” he trailed off, expecting Draco to understand. He would have already tried it out.

But Draco only shook his head. “I wanted you to try it first.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “No wonder you were so insistent,” he exclaimed, then pinched Draco’s side teasingly. “and sulky.”

“I was not sulky!” Draco returned indignantly, then straightened up slightly. “And I won by the way. Turns out the report just wasn’t enough to keep your attention after all. Not with me around at least.”

Mouth opening and shutting fruitlessly, Harry was luckily saved from admitting defeat - because he really was glad that he didn’t miss that too - as the phone rang beside them at that moment. Muscles screaming at every possible movement, Harry reluctantly detached himself from Draco and reached out for the phone.

“Hello,” he rasped thickly.

“Harry? What are you still doing there?” Ron’s voice came to him on the phone. “Don’t you have to be at the auror department by now?”

“I’m uh – not feeling too well.” Harry did a little cough to emphasise his point.

Now Ron’s voice sounded suspicious. “And where’s Malfoy?” he asked slowly, as if realising something. “He’s there with you now isn’t he?” There was a little note of disgust in his tone, and Harry could tell he’d put two and two together.

“He does live here, Ron,” reminded Harry, grinning. He could almost imagine the expression on Ron’s face at that moment; probably something close to the expression he’d had when facing the acromantulas in their second year.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t accepted the two of them being together. He had. It was just Ron had never gotten over the fact that him and Draco could possibly be sexually active with each other. But then again, who could blame Ron? He probably knew exactly what he and Draco were doing, having accidentally walking in on them once at Hogwarts.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, except he should be at work. Dad’s got a load of items he needs checking for dark magic.”

Draco was a dark magic detector, removing dark magic from any items sent through the Ministry. That also included muggle items, hence Ron’s call.

Harry looked questionably at Draco, who shook his head with a lazy smirk and stretched out onto the mattress as if indicating he wasn’t moving.

“Well actually,” Harry switched the phone to his other ear, batting Draco’s creeping hand away from his navel. “he’s - uh - sick too.”

“Really?” The doubt was evident.

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm … well tell that git that my dad’s not too pleased at him.”

“Why?”

There was another uncomfortable cough on the other side of the line. “He – uh apparently took one of dad’s confiscated - muggle artefacts yesterday afternoon when he was supposed to be checking for dark magic in a pair of red tapping shoes.”

“Artefacts?” What possible muggle artefact would interest Draco so much – oh god. Harry turned to Draco, shocked. “You didn’t?” he asked, absolutely horrified. He hardly heard Ron’s “Didn’t what?” as his mouth dropped open.

Draco smirked infuriatingly, and plucked the phone from Harry’s limp grasp. “Weasley, tell your father that he’s obviously not looking in the right place.” he said shortly, then promptly hung up and tossed the phone away.

He turned back to Harry, who was still screwing up his nose in disgust. “Draco – how could you? It was confiscated?”

“Relax.” Draco drawled, a sly smile on his lips. “It had never been used. Weasley caught that coot Fletcher trying to sell it as a trial version off to some muggle adult sex shop. He’d added a few heightening charms to it, of course – as you well know – and Weasley was forced to confiscate it.”

“Y’sure?”

“You honestly think that I would get something second-hand?” Draco sounded scandalised. “Used?”

Obviously not. Harry shook his head, smiling crookedly. Instead of saying that aloud though, he looked at the hovering clock above them and smiled. “So one hour huh?” he asked huskily, moving to pick up the item of their all attention. He didn’t think he wanted it to be returned. He could even understand Draco’s impatience the night before, though he was by no means going to admit it.

“Mmm hmmm.” Draco leaned forward, hungrily returning Harry’s wet and hot kiss. “I would say it’s my turn now, don’t you think?”

Harry couldn’t help it; he smirked into the kiss, moaning his appreciation. “Y’think Arthur would be willing to say that it was - lost?” he mumbled into Draco’s mouth.

“Didn’t you know?” murmured Draco. “Malfoy’s are very convincing.”

And if not, Harry added silently, even as he pushed Draco back down to the bed with a nod, there’s always Fletcher.


fin


Sorry to all those people on my flist who felt compelled to read this. I assure you, I will (hopefully) get better at writing smut!