Title: In The Palm of His Hand
Author: eeyore9990
Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt/Kirley Duke
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None, really, though there's some desk sex if that appeals. :D
Themes/kinks chosen: Alternate pairing (see pairing)
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: When the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters gets a slew of death threats, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt is called in to help.
Author's notes: After my computer ate the first version of this, I frantically rewrote from memory. The fic turned out wildly different the second go-round, but there is desk!sex, a nummy guitarist, and a fucking hot Auror. So, all's well that ends well.

---

To hold the world in the palm of one's hand must feel a bit like this.

Kirley looked out into the throbbing mass of bodies, watched the sweat- and tear-streaked faces as they raised to him, all the mouths open as they held the note with him and then…. Instant darkness. Total silence.

A bass note struck almost perfectly in time with the first scream from the crowd and Kirley couldn't hold back a tiny, completely satisfied smile. To be a wizard meant feeling the magic coursing through one's veins. To be a musician, though… ahh, he had the music. His wand would never feel as good in his hand as his guitar.

Kirley turned and gave a snarling laugh, feeling the slightest bit wild as his fingers twisted and tore the music from his hapless instrument. Jumping across the stage, he felt the power of the crowd lift around him until he floated on it. The energy of a thousand screaming witches was enough to make him fly, and he tapped into it. Soaring above the stage, he played until his fingers trembled, until his voice went silent, until the heat coming off his strings left blisters on his hands.

When the night was over, when the curtain dropped, Kirley went to his knees. Anyone watching would think he was praying to some deity or other. Instead, he was simply attempting to remember how to stand on the ground again.

Petting his guitar, he whispered, "Tomorrow, love. We'll ride the music again tomorrow." As he stood to walk off the stage, he didn't notice the eyes staring after him with a possessive sort of malevolence.

~*~

Kingsley leaned back against the door of the Head Auror's office and crossed his arms. "My next assignment is what?"

"The lead guitarist for the Weird Sisters has had several threats to his life. You will be going undercover as a… techie."

"What is a 'techie' and what do they do?"

"I have no idea. Something to do with all the equipment."

"Sir, I'm an Auror. I've never played a musical instrument in my life!"

Edwards ran a hand through his thinning hair and gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit down, Kingsley." After Kingsley complied, he leaned forward, planting his elbows on the cluttered desk and lowering his voice to say, "This guy is famous in a way that Harry Potter could only wish he was. There are people at the Ministry pushing buttons, applying pressure on my boss. It's been strongly suggested that I personally oversee this case—"

"Then why—"

"Look at me, Kingsley! There's a reason I'm riding a desk. I'm old and fat and lazy. I couldn't spot a threat in the room if I was alone with the would-be killer. I've been out of the field too long. You're out there every day. You're the best Auror I have. I trust you to do this and do it right."

Kingsley leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling as he considered this from every angle. With a put-upon sigh to let Edwards know he wasn't submitting gracefully, he finally said, "Fine. I'll do it. But I'm going to stick out like a bubotuber among that set."

"They understand that you won't know what you're doing at first. There will be someone there to show you the ropes. Duke wants to meet with you personally just before their rehearsal tonight. He wants to vet you himself before their next public appearance."

"He wants to vet me? I'm an Auror!"

"And he's taking this threat seriously. That's better than I can say for most people who need Auror protection."

Kingsley shook his head. "Whatever. I'll meet him; I'll do the dog and pony show. Then I'll find the person sending the threats and this will be just another story to tell around the conference room table."

"That's the spirit. You're off all other duties until this case is solved."

"Are we done here, then? I need to go pack a bag if I'm going on the road with," Kingsley shuddered, "the hottest rock stars the wizarding world has ever known."

He couldn't believe he was being subjected to this level of humiliation. The Weird Sisters. What the hell had he done to deserve this?

Looking down at the parchment containing his orders, an idea formed. If this Kirley Duke wanted an Auror… he'd get an Auror.

~*~

Kirley didn't bother to look up much, his attention focused on the guitar that sat quietly in his lap. His fingers danced over the strings, not quite plucking them, but unable to leave them alone. It was a habit that the others had long since come to overlook, but from the way the big Auror across the room sighed every few seconds, he was likely irritating the fuck out of the man who'd been hired to protect his life.

Maybe not the wisest course of action.

Kirley's mouth twisted wryly and he looked up, interrupting Myron as he said softly, "Sorry, mate. Can't really help myself. It's what I do."

The Auror--Kirley looked down at the parchment on the desk--Shacklebolt, waved one hand in dismissal. "Now that I have your attention, I'd like to ask you some questions."

Kirley nodded, his eyes automatically dropping back to where his fingers were stretching for the strings again. Snapping himself out of it, he blinked and looked back up, forcing himself to focus on the threats he'd been receiving.

"I need to be alone with Mr Duke. It's best that I get all the information and—"

"You can talk in front of me," Myron said, an offended whinge creeping into his tone.

Kirley chuckled, shaking his head. "He's not going to do his job until you're gone, My. It'll save us all time if you let him ask me his questions. Why don't you go make Donaghan run through Love Potions and Porcupines again? He was a bit slow with the chorus Tuesday."

Kirley hid a small smirk at Myron's instantaneous switch from concerned friend to enraged manager. "He was, wasn't he? I'll go make him play it through 'til his fingers fall off."

As the door shut behind him, Kirley turned to Shacklebolt and said, "Sorry about that. He's not usually so clingy. He's just concerned."

"Most friends would be—" Kirley's burst of laughter cut Shacklebolt off.

"Sorry, sorry. No, it's not that. Just, if anything happens to me, he'll have to find a new lead guitarist. He'd likely sooner cut out his tongue than audition snot-nosed Hogwarts dropouts who think they're the next big thing. If he's anywhere on your list of suspects, you can cross him right off."

"Hmm. I think I'll judge that for myself."

Kirley shrugged, his fingers stroking a silent B chord.

"There was mention of owls you'd received…?"

Kirley picked up a stack of parchments and passed them across. "They're all here."

"There must be twenty of them in here! Are they all from the … hmm, the handwriting matches. I'll have the department do a check to ensure they weren't all using the same type of Quick Quotes Quill. Why did it take you so long to contact us?"

"I didn't know. We generally hold all the fan owls until the end of the month. That's when we take three days and read and answer it all. Most of the mail is to the band as a whole; only about five percent is addressed to individual members. Of that, probably fifty percent goes to My and Orsino Thruston. He's the drummer. Birds like drummers." Kirley shrugged at the quizzical look he received. He had no idea what the allure was. 'Sino looked a bit like an overgrown ape.

"Why don't you have an agency to handle your owls?"

"We, all of us, live our dreams at the sufferance of our fans. If we closed down the paths of communication, we'd be denying that relationship. We just… no. We can't do that."

Shacklebolt shrugged and moved on. "The main message I'm seeing here is one of a sexual obsession. Do you have any old girlfriends? Relationships that went sour, perhaps?"

"No old girlfriends. A few old boyfriends, but they all ended amicably." Kirley was impressed when Shacklebolt didn't so much as twitch. "I've made a list of their names and Floo addresses for you here." Kirley started to hand the scribbled-on parchment over, noticed a bit of music he'd jotted on the side, and copied that over before finally relinquishing the names of his old lovers.

"Whoever this is, they feel like you belong to them. In every sense. They feel possessive of you, of your talent, of your music. They want so badly to own you that they've made that a reality… in their own mind, if nothing else."

Kirley shifted, uneasy. "No one owns me. They definitely don't own my music."

"Of course not. But, with your permission, I'd like to draw them out. I think we can end this quickly."

Kirley shrugged. "Whatever makes this go away faster. What did you have in mind?"

Shacklebolt's smile was nearly predatory.

~*~

Kingsley stared out at the mass of people. The way they moved to the beat of the music gave a visual effect like waves in the ocean. He shook his head, unable to believe that so many people could show up, night after night, to listen to music they could barely hear over the screams of their fellow concert-goers. Music that played twice hourly on the wireless.

The final scream of a gutted cat… or rather, the squelching sound of a guitar echoing through the stadium was Kingsley's cue. As the band took a slight break to allow Wagtail to chat up the audience, Kingsley strolled onto the stage. Dressed all in black, he blended in with the rest of the tech crew. Until, that is, he walked up to Kirley and leaned over, by all appearances whispering in his ear.

Or more.

Very deliberately, he dropped one hand to Kirley's waist, slipping it through a well-placed rip in the black fabric of his costume. They stayed like that for a long moment, and even through the deafening sound of the crowd and Wagtail's screams, Kingsley thought he heard low sound from Kirley.

The warm skin under his fingers jumped and twitched and just for a moment, he tightened his grip. A long, slow breath blew against his neck causing Kingsley to hide a smirk by nuzzling Kirley's ear.

"Bastard," Kirley hissed, jerking away.

Kingsley nodded in acknowledgment even as he slowly dragged his fingers along Kirley's stomach. As he drew his hand back out of Kirley's robes, he glanced across the stage, catching the twisted, ugly look on the face of the stage manager.

"Got you," he muttered, the whisper snatched away by the roar of the crowd as the drummer started up the beat for the next set.

~*~

Kirley knocked on the plain office door, his other hand tapping nervously against his thigh. The serious mien of the people hurrying through the corridors of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement made him feel twitchy.

At the shouted call to enter, Kirley opened the door and rushed inside, catching the door just before it slammed shut again.

"Hi. Sorry."

Kingsley looked up from a paperwork-strewn desk, one eyebrow rising as his gaze swept over Kirley. "Good afternoon. I must admit, I'm rather surprised to see you here." Nodding to the place Kirley's fingers plucked at the seam of his denims, Kingsley said, "Without your guitar, even. I'm impressed. Is everything all right?"

"Mmm, yeah. 'S fine. Just… I thought I should stop by. Thank you in person. Everything moved rather fast the other night and… just. Thanks." Curling his fingers into a light fist, Kirley brought them to his mouth and began nibbling on his ragged thumbnail.

Kingsley moved a stack of parchment to the corner of his desk before sitting back. "You're welcome. Of course, I feel the need to point out that I was just doing my job—"

"Yeah. Still…"

"Still. I never told you, but I did some research on your old boyfriends before we brought down Buscemi."

Kirley dropped his gaze to the scuffed toe of his boots, pursing his lips as he nodded his head absentmindedly. "Yeah. Great blokes. All ended well."

"I couldn't help but notice there were a few similarities among them. A 'type,' one might say." Kingsley's chair creaked as he stood up and advanced around the desk. Kirley watched him out of the corner of his eyes, his pulse speeding up as a feeling of being ambushed crept over him.

"Tall."

Kirley swallowed hard as Kingsley came to a stop in front of him, looming over him.

"Muscular."

Kirley closed his eyes, swaying slightly as he pictured once again the way the material of Kingsley's tech crew shirt had stretched across his broad chest.

"Authority figures."

Kirley sighed, the sound almost a whimper. "Yeah… Sexy, deep voices, too. Big hands. Big… well." Kirley opened his eyes and slung his hair out of his face. "Big everything. Like you."

"Like me."

He licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Kingsley's mouth. "'S there a reason we're talking about this?"

"Hmm, not really. Just thought I'd mention it."

"Oh, suck. Here I thought you were going to offer to fuck me over your desk."

There were very few times Kirley got to put his ability to intentionally shock others to such brilliant use, but this would probably go down in his personal history as the best use of that skill.

"What, no dinner and drinks first? Just right to it, then?"

"Why wait?"

Kirley heard the click of a lock behind him and raised his eyebrows at the rather blatant use of wordless magic. "Impressive."

Kingsley snorted and said, "You haven't seen anything yet."

Kirley licked his lips and stepped forward, pressing his body against Kingsley's. A shudder wracked him as Kingsley's arms came around him, pulling him even closer. "God, you feel good," he whispered, twisting his head up to lick a long stripe over the hollow at the base of Kingsley's throat that showed just above the open collar of his Auror robes.

Kingsley's growl made Kirley's lust spike even higher. He ground his cock against the hard length of Kingsley's upper thigh, his hands winding around Kingsley's waist as Kingsley bent his head to scrape his teeth along the side of Kirley's neck.

"Fuuuuck."

"That's definitely part of my plan."

"Clothes…" Kirley lost his train of thought when Kingsley's hands dropped to his arse, squeezing and kneading the flesh there. The sizzle of magic racing over his skin reminded him of his original thought but only long enough for him to acknowledge the loss of his clothing before the fact that he was pressed, fully naked, against Kingsley pushed it again to the back of his mind.

Kingsley lifted him then, forcing a moan from them both as their pricks slid against one another before he was lowered to the now-bare surface of Kingsley's desk. Kingsley caught his earlobe between his teeth, nipping sharply at the sensitive bit of flesh before he released it to murmur, "Get comfortable. I'm going to fuck you through the top of this."

"Yeah, I'm good with that."

Large hands parted his thighs and Kirley writhed on the smooth surface of the desk. Realising something, he opened his eyes and looked down. A moan escaped as he took in the absolute fucking perfection of Kingsley's body, from his wide shoulders to his muscular thighs to his… long, thick cock.

"God, please fuck me already."

"I want to—"

"Later. We'll get around to everything else later. Right now, I want you to fuck me."

"Everything?"

"Whatever you want. Just fuck me now."

"I'll hold you to that." Kingsley's smile was very definitely wicked, but he left off teasing long enough to direct another wordless charm at Kirley's arse. A sigh escaped him as he felt his passage suddenly loosen, totally relaxed as some sort of liquid began to slowly slide out of him.

Licking his lips, he nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready now. Do it."

Kingsley shook his head. "Bossiest bottom I ever met."

"I'm a celebrity. You'll have to overlook my eccentricities."

Kingsley laughed even as he lifted one of Kirley's legs, hooking it over his shoulder. The hot flush of lust built in Kirley's chest then and spilled up into his face even as he felt the broad tip of Kingsley's cock pressing against his entrance. A jerky nod was all he could manage then as he nearly choked on pure need.

Kingsley's slow slide in stole Kirley's breath. Sweet, lovely pain brought him back from the edge even as his cock throbbed from the deliciousness of it all. When Kingsley's hips pressed flush against his arse, he stopped, giving Kirley a moment to adjust or perhaps himself a moment to catch his breath.

Kirley whimpered at the slowness of it all and flexed his leg, rolling his hips as much as he was able. His eyes rolled when the tip of Kingsley's lovely cock brushed across his prostate with that move. "You're not going to break me," he moaned. "Move, for fuck's sake!"

Kingsley groaned and complied, pulling almost all the way out before slamming forward. "Touch yourself." The deep, husky rumble of his voice had Kirley grabbing frantically at his cock just to stop himself from coming too soon. It wasn't until he'd squeezed off his imminent orgasm that it even occurred to him what Kingsley had said.

He gasped out a laugh as Kingsley slowly slid his cock free of Kirley's arse. "No problem there, mate. Can't keep my hand off it these days."

"Oh, really? You'll have to tell me all about that later," Kingsley said just before he lined up and snapped his hips forward, driving his cock all the way to the hilt with one move. Kirley couldn't hold back a scream of pleasure at that and his hand automatically began moving rapidly up and down his shaft.

"Oh, God, not gonna last. Gonna come…"

"Do it, then. I'll lick it up and we'll start all over again. Slower this time. Come for me."

Kirley squeezed his eyes closed as the combination of Kingsley's voice and his rapidly pumping cock forced his orgasm from him.

When he came back to himself, Kirley realised that Kingsley was sitting in his office chair, slowly stroking his still-hard cock as he watched Kirley through dark, narrowed eyes. "Ah, good. You're back."

Kirley groaned, angry with himself over his lack of control.

A hand on his thigh made him look back down to see Kingsley's head disappearing between his legs just before the touch of a tongue to his still-throbbing hole surprised a shout from him. Through the haze of renewed pleasure, he noticed that his chest and stomach had already been cleaned of come. This, then, must be the start of round two.

Kirley curled his hand over the edge of the desk as he gave silent thanks for the death threats that had led to this.