Entry tags:

fic, harry/draco

Merry Smutmas, gold_loewin!

To: gold_loewin From: coffeejunkii

Title: Cock Flambé
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Harry has always been in favour of taking matters into his own hands.
Author's notes: This story is not compliant with the epilogue of Deathly Hallows. gold_loewin, I tried to fulfill as many of your wishes as possible, and I hope you'll enjoy the story! Thank you to my beta, who shall remain anonymous for now.

"Oh, I think there's one more under the tree!" Draco pushed his way through the mountains of wrapping paper all around him to dive underneath the lowest branches.

"Right. That. Er." Harry suddenly found himself parched. Draco wasn't really supposed to see that particular present now. It was meant for later, when they'd had a few glasses of spiked punch and Harry could blame his embarrassment on the alcohol.

"Really, Harry, this isn't Easter. You're not supposed to hide presents on Christmas." Draco's pyjama-clad arse wiggled enticingly as he was reaching for the box that Harry had shoved into the corner behind the tree.

"But it's more fun this way?" Harry tried weakly. His cheeks were heating up. Damn traitorous cheeks.

"Ha!" Draco crowed as his fingers closed over the present. He slid out from under the Christmas tree. "Hmm, it is kind of heavy..." He gave it an experimental shake, then looked up at Harry. A smile slowly spread on his face. "Is this something naughty?"

Under Draco's inquisitive gaze, Harry's face heated up another five degrees.

"It is!" Draco's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Well, let's see it."

Two taps of Draco's wand were enough to make the present slowly unwrap itself. As soon as the lid floated away from the box, Draco eagerly pushed aside the gauzy paper inside to reveal three white rolls of powdery fabric, a small jar, and a booklet that announced, Giving a Piece of Yourself—A Helpful Guide.

Draco frowned. "This isn't quite what I expected."

"It's, um, a MakeYourOwnDildoKit." The words all sort of rushed together, but at least they had been said.

"It's a what?"

Harry cleared his throat. "A Make Your Own Dildo Kit." His cheeks would erupt into flames any moment now.

"Well, well, Potter, I didn't know you had it in you. But we have quite the selection of toys already, in case that slipped your mind."

"I know." Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. "This is a little different. You use the plaster," he pointed at the white rolls, "to make a mould. Of—yourself. And then you pour some of this stuff," he picked up the jar, "into the mould, and then you wait until it's, um, stiff. You remove the mould, and voila, have your very personal dildo." He was quite proud of having explained that so rationally. "I thought it might be...nice to have since we're both travelling so much."

"Harry," Draco said in a low voice. "That is one of the best ideas you've ever had." He leaned over the box, resting his hands on Harry's knees, and kissed him.

Relief rushed through Harry and he eagerly returned the kiss. "You—hmmm—want to try this now?"

"Yes." Draco's fingers hooked into Harry's boxers, tugging.

"Wait," Harry's hand closed around Draco's wrist. "I was thinking that you'd go first?"

Draco pulled back. "Oh no. Your gift. Your idea. Your cock that gets wrapped in plaster first."

"But you're going away in two days!"

"So? As soon as we're done with yours, and, assuming everything goes well, we can do me."

"What would go wrong?" Harry asked. The sales wizard had assured him that this kit was 100% foolproof.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco said dryly, "You're suggesting that I put my best, and not to mention, most sensitive, asset in a cast, and—"

"Best asset?" Harry snorted.

"You're salivating over it often enough, so it clearly has significant value." Draco crossed his arms. "I'm rather attached to it as well. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Nothing's going to happen!"

Draco grasped the edge of Harry's pants again. "If that's so, you can go first."

Edging away from Draco, Harry said, "Okay, how about a little competition to decide who goes first?"

"Competition?" Draco weighed the word carefully. "All right." He picked up his wand. "Accio lube. I've always been fond of a good wank in the morning, so shall we say whoever comes first gets to play model first?"

"Sounds good." Harry was confident he could win this challenge. Unbeknownst to Draco, he'd had a wank earlier while Draco had Firecalled his parents to wish them a happy Christmas.

The lube landed between them. Their eyes locked as they shoved interfering clothing items out of the way. Harry was pleased to note that Draco was already half hard; this would be quite easy. When Draco didn't make a move, Harry picked up the lube, squeezed a generous amount into his palm and then did the same for Draco.

"Ready?" he asked.

With a smirk, Draco replied, "Indeed."

Nice and slow, Harry told himself. And under no circumstances look at Draco's cock. He loved to watch Draco bring himself off, and if he glanced at what Draco was doing, he might lose this bet after all.

For about half a minute, Harry managed to keep his gaze fixed on the Christmas tree. Then Draco moaned—a breathy, helpless sound, and Harry's eyes were on him in a snap. He tried to look away again, to re-focus his attention, but Draco looked at him from under half-lidded eyes, his lips parted, and there was a flush spreading from his face down his chest all the way to his cock.

Harry groaned. His arm shook from the effort of keeping his strokes slow, but he managed. Barely.

Draco's free hand crept along his thigh to fondle his balls—his eyes fluttered shut at that—and then further between his legs. A drawn-out moan escaped him, with a slight hitch in the middle, as if some unexpectedly strong sensation had rolled over him, momentarily stealing his voice.

Harry squeezed the base of his cock hard and summoned all the will he had left. He would not lose this.

Draco's eyes were still closed when he began to speak in a low urgent voice. "You know how you like to tease me before you fuck me? When you use your fingers to rub just back and forth?"

Harry's eyes followed the movement of Draco's wrist. Back and forth, back and forth. He started to pant.

"And you're doing it for so long that you'll catch me off-guard when you finally push your fingers in. Just like—" he gasped, "that."

A shudder went through Harry. Warmth splashed over his fingers, and he fell forward, bracing himself with one hand while the other flew over his cock. A litany of curses slipped past his lips as another shiver went through him and the last few dribbles of come stained the carpet beneath.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head dropping forward while he tried to catch his breath.

Fingers wandered up his nape and closed around a fistful of hair. He followed the tug, expecting a demanding kiss, but Draco licked into his mouth instead. There was almost no pressure behind this kiss, just a soft meeting of lips.

Draco broke away, but kept close enough that his breath flowed in short bursts over Harry's face. Having been with Draco for a long time, Harry knew what that meant, and just as he looked down between their bodies, he saw Draco come over his stomach and thighs.

Harry sought Draco's mouth again, and they shared a kiss that was just as light as the previous one. A small smile appeared on Draco's face afterwards, one of those very rare ones that meant he felt completely at ease with the world. A similar feeling of contentment echoed in Harry, and he reached out to run a hand along Draco's bare side, pleased with the shiver his action evoked.

Draco's arms folded around Harry's neck as his smile slowly transformed into a smirk. "You lost."

Harry laughed. "You didn't play fair."

"I used all means at my disposal to ensure I would win. I don't see how that's unfair considering you could have done the same thing."

Harry pulled Draco into his lap. "At that moment, I wouldn't have been able to string two coherent thoughts together, let alone form some sort of strategy."

"Pity." Draco settled his weight more fully on Harry. "How soon until we can get you all wrapped up?"

Locking his arms more tightly around Draco, Harry replied, "If you keep that up, very soon."

~~~***~~~

"I think that turned out rather well," Draco observed, stray streaks of plaster gracing his arms, chest, and thighs. He was kneeling in front of Harry, a smug expression on his face.

Harry looked down at his cock, now encased in a thick white layer, the weight of which he fortunately didn't feel due to the Levitation Charm Draco had cast. "I don't know." He was sure that if it hadn't been for the cock ring Draco had slipped on him before starting the procedure, he'd have lost his erection quite some time ago. At least the cushions under his arse were soft and would make it easier to sit still for however long this was going to take.

"Enough of the sad face, Potter! Everything's going as it should," Draco pointed to the instruction booklet hovering in the air next to him, "and we've got half an hour until the mould can be removed. I suggest we make the best of that time."

The leer in Draco's eyes made Harry back further into the wall against which he was leaning. "And what does that entail?"

Draco followed the movement. He picked up Harry's legs and draped them over his own, his hands moving up and down Harry's thighs. "Isn't that obvious? I love having you at my mercy, and we also need to make sure you remain...properly stimulated." The last two words were whispered directly into Harry's ear.

With a shuddering breath, Harry turned his head to the side, baring his neck. Draco understood; his mouth was soft on Harry's skin, and the occasional flicks of tongue made Harry's breath hitch. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. He certainly enjoyed having Draco's attention on him.

"Will you close your eyes?" Draco asked while laving along Harry's collar bones. His fingers stole Harry's glasses off his nose.

"All right. But don't—you're not going to tie my hands, are you?"

The reassuring squeeze to Harry's thigh would have been answer enough, but Draco added, "I won't."

The world went dark when Harry closed his eyes. Draco's hand on his leg felt heavier and warmer than before, and there was a hint of friction where his thumb swept back and forth in what seemed to be an unconscious movement. The friction generated small pulses that moved, morse-code like, to Harry's cock, and ebbed against the tight casing around it. The cast wasn't uncomfortable, but it also was nothing like being with Draco. Harry squirmed. He'd changed his mind—he wanted this damn mould off of him.

Draco chuckled. "Care to share that thought?"

"Tell me that the thirty minutes have miraculously passed by already?"

"Sorry, no such luck, I'm afraid. But you'll like this, I promise."

Draco sounded sincere enough, which didn't mean much as he often presented his most devious plans with an earnest expression.

A familiar static brushed against Harry's skin. "Are you doing magic?"

"Yeah." Draco sounded surprised. "You can feel it?"

"Hmm. I don't think I usually notice, though."

There was a pause, then Draco said, "If people spend a lot of time together, they can get so used to one another's magic that it produces a physical sensation." He did a good job of projecting detachment, but Harry would be ready to bet a healthy sum of Galleons that his cheeks were flushed.

Something tickled against the sole of Harry's foot, there and gone. He twitched away from it, but whatever it was followed, fluttering over his toes. It was soft and...feathery, perhaps. His foot flexed out of its own accord.

"Like that?"

"Too early to..." The feather—yes, it definitely was a feather—danced up Harry's leg to settle into the space behind his knees. "To tell," he finished weakly.

"Really?" Draco asked.

The feather moved along Harry's thigh, tracing slow figure eights. Shivers tingled up his body. A vaguely assenting noise was all Harry managed in response to Draco's question.

Draco had the audacity to laugh. "I'm taking that as a 'yes.'"

A brief swish across Harry's balls, too brief to elicit anything more than a spark of sensation, and the feather stroked over his torso, swirling around his nipples until they pebbled. The lightness of the touches was maddening; Harry rolled his shoulders in frustration, arching away from the wall. What a futile hope to think that would arrest the sweeping motions of the feather and fix it in one place. Draco liked to tease Harry, after all, and so the downy wisps continued to alight on his skin, here and there, drawing circles, swirls, and waves. After every hair on Harry's arms had been coaxed into standing straight up, the feather retraced its path, ghosting over ribs and hipbones to finally swipe back and forth low on Harry's belly.

The pulses Harry had felt earlier returned, more intense now. His legs fell open wider.

"Is that an invitation?"

There was a roughness to Draco's voice that Harry knew well. It conjured images in his mind that only quickened the pulses beating into his cock. "Yes."

The feather tickled along the crease of hip and thigh before sweeping over Harry's balls. His mouth fell open, but no matter what he tried, he remained short of breath. There was more force behind the feathered strokes now, enough to make Harry's toes curl inward. The staccato of pulses merged, became one. Harry's hips snapped forward in anticipation of the rush that would ease the pressure cresting in him, but the tight pressure around his cock held it back and folded it in on itself.

Harry whined and dug his fingers into the carpet lest he use them to tear off that fucking mould. "Draco. Gods. I. Stop."

The feather continued its infuriating licks.

Harry's eyes snapped open. "I said stop." He whimpered. "Please."

The feather fell out Draco's hands, and his eyes searched Harry's with a request for reassurance.

"You..." Harry was still catching his breath. "You nearly killed me there." A hand came up to Harry's face and tucked aside a few strands of hair. It felt good. A solid touch, meant to comfort, not to tantalise. Gesturing to the cast, Harry asked, "Get this off me, will you?"

"But the half hour isn't over yet—"

"Don't care." He'd do it himself but was doubtful about his ability to hold his wand steady.

Draco tapped the booklet with his wand. Pages turned, and Draco's eyes quickly scanned the incantation and motions for the spell that would relieve Harry from his agony. Draco carried out the instructions with his usual precision—Harry always admired him for his spellwork—but nothing happened. Draco frowned, and tried again, with the same result.

Harry's stomach knotted. "What's going on?"

"I...am not sure." Draco flipped further forward in the booklet. "It says here that there's another spell you can use to remove the mould." With an apologetic look, he added, "Supposedly stings a bit."

"Just get on with it."

Draco nodded. His wand moved through the air in a complicated pattern before pointing at the cast.

A jolt zipped through Harry. "Fuck! That was more than a little sting!" He rubbed at his groin as best he could with the cast still snuggly wrapped around his cock.

"That...was not supposed to happen." Draco studied the book again.

Harry growled.

A frown formed on Draco's face. "Uh-oh."

"What is it now?" Harry asked, supremely irritated now.

"I think we've got to go to St. Mungo's."

"Oh, no, we don't."

Draco looked at Harry with sincere concern. "Yes, we do. It says if the second spell isn't successful there's a chance of a...reaction. It says something about possible incindiary tendencies."

"WHAT?"

Draco stood up. "'m afraid so. Unless you'd like your cock to burn to a crisp, we should Apparate. Right now."

And a happy fucking Christmas to us all, Harry thought.

~~~***~~~

The Welcome Witch didn't even bother looking up at them. "You can take a seat and someone will see you very soon." She flipped to the next page of Witch Weekly.

"This really is an emergency," Draco said again.

Harry wanted to sink into the ground. He stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his robe in the futile hope that the action might disguise the way the fabric tented in a rather suspicious way. Two young witches were already snickering behind held-up hands.

"Everything's an emergency here, dear," the Welcome Witch replied, sounding rather bored.

"Erm, excuse me." Harry bent low over the reception desk. "I'm Harry Potter, and—"

The witch's gaze flicked up, and her eyes widened with recognition. "Mr Potter!" she exclaimed loudly.

All eyes in the emergency ward were on them now, Harry was sure of it. "Yes, that's right. We really do have a rather urgent problem here." He discreetly glanced down his body.

The witch's eyes followed along the same path. "Oh! Well, that would be Floor 4. Unless that's the result of a potion, which would be Floor 3."

As soon as Harry and Draco had rounded the corner, a cacophony of whispers and barely concealed laughter errupted in the waiting room. Harry could see the headlines in the Prophet already.

HARRY POTTER IN DELICATE CONDITION AT ST. MUNGO'S! Witnesses claim perverse rituals were the cause—has Draco Malfoy still not left his Dark ways behind?

~~~***~~~

"Why isn't the Healer here already?" Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed to which they had been directed.

Draco's fingers briefly wound into Harry's hair. "I'm sure someone will be here soon."

"Easy for you to stay calm," Harry muttered.

The door opened and a rather young man swept inside. "Gentlemen, I'm Healer Thomas. What is the prob—oh. I see." He bit his lip, then cleared his throat. "How did this come about? Engorgio gone wrong? We see that quite often, I assure you."

Harry was about to open his robes to show off his predicament when Draco stilled his hand.

"Isn't there someone with more experience on call?" Draco asked with a hint of a sneer and a lightly arched eyebrow.

The Healer bristled. "I've more than enough experience to handle this matter."

"Really. How long has it been since you left Hogwarts? Two years?"

"It's been three, but—"

"I don't care," Harry cut in. "Could we get back to the most important thing here?" He flung open his robe. His still-encased-cock proudly poked out from the fly of his boxers.

Healer Thomas nodded his head. "Indeed, Mr Potter, indeed." He waved his wand over the cast. He nodded as a series of colors flashed over the white plaster. "Ah, yes. A simple, controlled Blasting Spell should suffice."

"Blasting Spell?" Harry and Draco echoed simultaneously.

"Yes. A very simple procedure."

Harry swallowed and felt for Draco's hand, glad when their fingers laced together.

"Ready?" The Healer lifted his wand.

Harry nodded.

With great flourish, Healer Thomas sliced his wand through the air. The mould exploded with a loud crack that nearly made Harry jump off the bed and onto the floor. Bits of plaster hit Draco's cheek, causing a most undignified squeak. A fine sheen of white dust covered the entire room and the three men in it.

"Controlled my arse," Draco mumbled under his breath.

Three pairs of eyes settled on Harry's cock, which looked a little worse for the wear, but otherwise perfectly intact. Harry and Draco let out a collective breath of relief, and Healer Thomas smiled smugly.

The End.