|heartbreak, old friend, goodbye it's me again (femmequixotic) wrote in pornish_pixies,|
@ 2008-11-05 20:35:00
|Entry tags:||challenge: autumn/halloween, fic, harry/draco|
LONG: A Seasonal Pursuit, Harry/Draco (Watcher: inamac)
The current Autumn/Halloween Challenge is accepting fic and art submissions from the watchers of pornish_pixies as well as members. Please remember that if you wish to submit a fic or artwork for this challenge, the deadline is Saturday November 8.
Below is the submission by watcher inamac.
Title: A Seasonal Pursiut
Author: Ina MacAllan (inamac)
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Summary: Harry and Draco go for a walk in the woods. Harry teaches Draco a muggle game. Draco is a fast learner...
Warnings: Very Bad Puns (No, seriously) Also fellatio and anal play (unless you are a wizard with a very good command of cleaning and lubrication spells, or are on excellent terms with your local hospital's proctology department, do not try this at home).
Notes: Written for the Hallowe'en Challenge. While conkers is, indeed, a seasonal traditional English schoolboy's game, the version that Harry and Draco are playing in this story does not conform to the accepted National Rules.
"And why have you brought me out into the middle of the woods on a freezing cold October day?" Draco shivered theatrically, a gesture that was rather spoiled for effect by the thick fur cloak that he was wearing over suede tunic, silk shirt, bum-hugging moleskin trousers, and (Harry surmised, based on experience), several layers of linen and cotton undergarments.
"It's a lovely Autumn day, and I thought it might be nice to just come out and have a kick through the leaves and maybe play a game of conkers."
Draco arched an elegant blond eyebrow which almost disappeared into the fox-fur trim of his hat. "A kick through the leaves? Is this some sort of Remedial Death Eater Therapy? I suppose I could always imagine that they're Voldemort's arse. Or Aunt Bella's."
Harry sighed. "If I didn’t know you were naturally a prat I'd suspect you of working on it deliberately just to wind me up."
"But you love me anyway." Draco's grin took the sting out of the retort, and signalled the end of his tantrum. He linked his arm through Harry's and kicked out at a drift of red and gold leaves which obstructed the path. They gave a satisfying rustle and crunch under his boot-heel.
"You’re right. That is very therapeutic. So, what was that about conkers?"
"It's a muggle game. You thread a horse-chestnut onto a piece of string and use it to try and break your partner's conker. You get points the more nuts you smash." Harry smiled reminiscently. "I once beat Dudley with a sixty-niner."
Draco made a choking noise and turned on his heel, pulling his partner to an unexpected halt in a flurry of leaves, before slamming him up against the nearest tree. "Now who's saying things just to wind me up?" he growled.
Harry felt the scrape of bark against his back, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and the hardness of Draco's arousal against his own, made all the more erotic by the layer of confining and defining soft leather. Harry buried his nose in fur and frotted shamelessly. "It worked, though."
"Dirty," Draco whispered, stepping back. "Bet you didn't play like that with Dudley."
The thought was as deflating as a cold shower.
"No. I told you. I beat him at conkers. As it happens, I've still got the conker." Harry reached into his pocket and dragged out a wrinkled nut attached to a tangled grey piece of string.
Draco, his splayed hand on Harry's chest still holding him immobile against the tree, turned his head to inspect it suspiciously. "And this is a muggle children's game?"
"Yes. Let's find a conker for you and I’ll show you. There must be some around here somewhere. See if you can find a horse chestnut tree."
"We're standing under one," Draco pointed out. "You never did pay attention in Herbology, did you?" He released the other man and bent to root through the fallen palmate leaves and the split spiked husks of the nut-cases looking for a smooth, whole, un-nibbled conker. Harry refrained from offering to join him, he was enjoying the sight of sleek tawny fur stretched over that elevated, elegant arse too much to want to change the view. He reached into his pocket again, surreptitiously adjusting his rekindled erection.
"Found one!" Draco exclaimed, straightening up and holding out a smooth brown and grey nut in the palm of his hand. "What now?"
"You need to make a hole and thread a piece of string through it. Um, do you have any string?"
Draco's lip curled. "No," he said, "But I do have a wand. He drew it from the pocket of his cloak and muttered two quick spells, one of which drilled a neat hole through the nut while the second conjured a length of smooth, unbreakable, magical cord. He curled it around his hand and looked thoughtfully at Harry's wrists, before threading it skilfully through the hole and knotting it securely to allow the nut to swing free.
"So," he asked, "Who's going first? And what are the stakes?"
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Loser takes off an item of clothing?" he suggested.
Draco's grin grew feral. "Strip conkers?" he said. "Sure, why not. 'Slong as I get to go first."
Unsurprisingly Harry's seasoned sixty-niner made short work of Draco's first half dozen conkers, reducing him to his underwear in remarkably short time, before Draco insisted on shortening the odds by having them both play with (as he put it) 'new balls'. By the time Harry was in a similar state of dishabille the fur cloak had been thrown to the ground at the foot of the similarly denuded horse chestnut tree and Harry was leaning up against the fork of the roots with Draco sprawled over his legs sucking enthusiastically on his testicles.
"Mmmm. That's good." He ran his fingers through the white-blond strands where they mingled with his own dark thatch, savouring the contrast of colour and texture as a way of distracting himself from his response to his partner's activity. It did not work. Draco released his mouthful at the touch and grinned.
"Well, you wanted me to play with your nuts," he observed, scooting back a little in accurate anticipation of Harry's spluttered response, and putting a hand on each of his partners ankles. "Now it's time to play with mine."
"What?" Harry suddenly found himself pulled down, shoulders scraping against the rough bark of the tree trunk, legs lifted and spread-eagled by the forked roots, and completely open to the grinning tormenter above him.
"What are you - doing?" The last word was a squeak as Draco employed his wand with casual expertise and Harry was answered by the tingling cleansing and dilation of a preparation charm.
"Stop asking bloody silly questions, and kiss me," Draco demanded, leaning forward to claim Harry's lips as he slipped two magically lubricated fingers into the ready channel.
Harry promptly obeyed, losing himself in the taste of Draco's mouth, the press of his arousal, and the feel of his probing fingers - until the other man drew back, repositioned them both on the sun-warmed fur, and replaced the teasing fingers with something hard, smooth and oddly shaped, rubbing it against puckered flesh before muttering their lubrication charm and using his thumb to push it smoothly and relentlessly past the sphincter.
Harry's cock jerked, despite his horror. "Is that... Is that a bloody conker!?"
Draco's hair brushed lightly over his partner's exposed thighs as he nodded, and then reached down with his free hand to curl his long fingers around his boyfriend's length and started to squeeze.
"Merlin! Dracooooooooo-oh..." Torn between outrage and arousal Harry threw his head back against the treetrunk and howled, bucking into the blond's working hand. There was consternation as the birds in their immediate vicinity took flight. Disturbed leaves showered down on the lovers. Draco ignored them, far too concentrated on his task as he thumbed a second nut after the first.
"Good?" he asked.
"Uh... diff... different..."
"More?" It was an almost rhetorical question, Harry's hole was spasming, answering before his brain and lips could respond. Draco rubbed the smooth upper curve of the next magically lubricated nut down Harry's cleft while waiting for a response.
"You'd better start counting. We don't want to lose any. This is three."
Three was larger than its predecessors, and Draco swallowed Harry's response in a breathless kiss, feeling the other man's heartbeat thud against his own chest.
Four elicited a groan, half agony, half plea for more.
Five brought a gasp and a ripple of pleasure that shook them both as the stimulation found Harry's prostate.
Six brought incoherent pleading, and the seventh a scream that Draco silenced with his hand over Harry's mouth as he turned him onto a hard embrace, at last sliding his own arousal against his partner's precum-slick, straining erection.
"Enough?" he whispered, watching the green eyes clouded with lust.
"Yes... No... Draco... Please!"
"Hmm. Decisive as ever." The words were sarcastic, but the tone tender. Draco reached for his wand with one hand, and closed the other around Harry's cock, setting a measured pace that had Harry groaning with frustration - until Draco softly whispered "Accio conkers against Harry's throat.
And Harry came.
...in a series of flowering pulses, each more intense, more powerful, more passionate, than the last, painting the gold of the autumnal leaves with silver threads of come.
"Now that," said Draco, when his own orgasm had subsided, and he was lying half across the cloak and half across Harry's legs, counting conkers, "I what I call a winning strategy. Do you know any other muggle games?"