Title: Office Boy
Author: snegurochka_lee
Characters: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: EWE, probably. Also, see theme.
Theme chosen: Nipple clamps
Word Count: ~2,500
Summary: Harry watched the single bead of sweat slide down the side of Malfoy's face, slipping behind his ear and disappearing into his hair, and Harry's body gave a shiver at the thought of what was causing Malfoy's tension.
Author's notes: This is for marguerite_26, who was the most insanely tireless cheerleader and beta for my hd_career_fair story last month when I turned into a whinging snowflake of epic proportions and was wringing my hands over ever having been mad enough to sign up for an H/D fest. :) She suggested Harry/Teddy, actually, when I insisted on writing her a reward, but that shall have to wait for another day, because lo, now it seems my brain is all LET'S WRITE MOAR H/D OKAY. :/




Office Boy

by Snegurochka

*

"I'm out of ink."

Harry scratched at his page, the dry tip of his quill sending a shudder down his spine. He pressed his lips together and glanced up.

"Malfoy, did you hear me? I said I'm out of–"

"I'm not deaf, Potter. I generally understand that when your mouth flaps like that, you are in fact talking." Malfoy turned back to his own desk, bending over a collection of charts.

"Look, you work in my office, you agree to my rules. I think everyone here made that very clear to you yesterday." Harry nodded around at his staff, every single one of the bastards perking their ears up to catch snippets of the great Harry Potter arguing with his famed nemesis. At his words, they all blushed and pretended to duck their heads back down into their own work. Tossers, the lot of them.

"Two days, Potter," said Malfoy with a pained sigh, glaring out at the cubicles. "Your team of riff-raff Aurors pretends to search for a forger, my team of financiers locks down the banks, and poof!" He swirled his hand in a bored gesture. "We all win, and I go back to the ninth floor – where, I might add, we enjoy beverages that don't come out of cans."

Annoyed, Harry shoved his chair back, stalked over to Malfoy's makeshift desk and stared down at him. Not to be outdone, Malfoy immediately rose to his feet to meet Harry's gaze. They glared at each other for a long moment, until finally, Harry broke eye contact and let his gaze follow the drape of Malfoy's robes. "If you don't like the rules down here, then you can take your team and kindly fuck off. Now, I said," he repeated, "that I was out of ink. Why don't you get me a new pot?" His eyes lingered on the square of Malfoy's chest, just for a brief moment, before sliding back up to his face.

It was like looking at an iron mask. Apart from occasional blinking, Malfoy appeared stoic and reserved, if irritated. Harry was too keenly aware that the eyes of the office were on them. "And I said, Potter," repeated Malfoy slowly, tilting his head from side to side with each word, "that I'm not– fucking– deaf. I might have to work down here, but I'm not your office boy. Get your own ink."

Harry's fists clenched at the titters of the observers around them.

"While you're at it," continued Malfoy, glancing back over his shoulder as he turned to grab a file, "why don't you make me a cup of tea? Two sugars, there's a lad."

Harry's fingers tightened further, but no longer out of anger. Something else about Malfoy's infuriating chatter always riled him up. He breathed in deeply through his nose before turning and flashing his coworkers a grin, rolling his eyes in Malfoy's direction. Meredith grinned back at him, shaking her head; Ethan made a wanking gesture; and Judith just gave him a thumbs-up. Sidling up beside Malfoy and reaching across him for a stack of parchment, Harry jostled their shoulders together.

The hiss that escaped Malfoy's lips was enough to make Harry's stomach muscles tighten and all the air currents in the room seem to rush right over his groin.

"Watch it," said Malfoy in a fierce whisper, his jaw tight. He turned away from Harry and took in a shuddering breath.

"Oh, sorry, Malfoy," said Harry loudly. "Didn't see you there." Armed with his parchment, Harry sauntered back to his desk, sitting down and swivelling his chair around to give himself an unobstructed view of Malfoy's space. He waited ten more minutes, the bustle of the office continuing around him as he signed some papers, finished a report on last week's raid, and gave a few seconds' thought to this forgery case that most of the Aurors considered Not Their Problem, but which Kingsley had ordered them to investigate. When he'd decided enough time had passed, he leaned back in his chair, trying to keep the grin off his face. "Oi, Malfoy," he called.

Malfoy ignored him.

"Getting warm in here, don't you think?" he continued, tugging at his collar. "Why don't you get rid of the queen's own dress robes you've got on over there?" He waved around at the casual attire in the room. "Roll up your shirtsleeves and make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Potter, but I'm quite comfortable in my clothing." He still didn't look up, his quill busily etching across a page. "Not all of us need to come to work with our shirts half-undone."

"I don't know." Harry scratched at his jaw. "You seem tense."

"Do I?" Malfoy slammed his quill down and raised his head at that, glaring at Harry. But as quickly as his anger had flared, he checked it again, his rigid features softening as much as he ever let them. Harry watched the material of Malfoy's robes swish over his chest, mesmerised by the movement and Malfoy's reaction to it, as he took another steadying breath before picking up his quill once more.

Harry let the outburst hang in the air, turning back to his own work. With one eye on the clock and one eye on Malfoy, he did – to his own surprise – manage to get a bit of paperwork done. Each glance at Malfoy sent all the previous thirty seconds' concentration efforts scattering, though, especially when he spied the beads of sweat slowly forming on Malfoy's brow. He watched one slide down the side of Malfoy's face, slipping behind his ear and disappearing into his hair, and Harry's body gave a shiver at the thought of what was causing Malfoy's tension.

After another fifteen agonising minutes, Harry cleared his throat. "Nearly ten o'clock," he called to no one in particular. Some of his staff glanced up at the clock and shrugged; others shot him curious looks. Malfoy, once again, ignored him. He pushed his chair back and strolled over to Malfoy's desk again. This time, he positioned his body away from the rest of the staff and leaned over the desk. "Got to say," he murmured, "I didn't think you'd last ten minutes here, never mind two hours." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "How are you doing?"

Malfoy met his gaze. "Fine," he said evenly, swallowing. "Watch me make it till lunch."

"That would be insane."

"Try me."

"Oh, I'd like to, believe me. Don't think I can wait that long, though."

"Well, then, you lose, Potter." Malfoy sniffed, a small smile pushing its way through his veneer.

Harry leaned in further, his palms planted on Malfoy's desk. "I don't think I do," he said quietly, his words swallowed by the sound of Justin's parchment-shredding spell. Reaching out, he grasped Malfoy by the neck of his robes and pulled him forward.

His face crumpling, Malfoy bit down over a cry of pain. He glared daggers at Harry, breathing hard.

"I think you forgot some key files for this case up in your own office, don't you?" said Harry, amused at Malfoy's reaction.

Malfoy jerked himself away, closing his eyes briefly as he straightened his robes. "I can't imagine I did, but if you insist on checking, Auror Potter," he said, drawing out the name, "then I'm sure I can't stop you."

Grinning, Harry stood up straight again. "I do insist."

Malfoy sighed but headed out the door. They rode the lift in silence, walked through Malfoy's mostly abandoned part of his floor in silence, and strode into his private office in silence. Malfoy closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. He eyed Harry. "I don't see any missing files up here," he drawled. "Do you?"

A growl rushed from Harry's throat as he strode forward, pressing himself against Malfoy's body and framing his face with strong hands. He crashed their mouths together, desperate to get Malfoy to give up the façade and admit to everything he was feeling. Malfoy groaned against Harry's lips, his hands clutching at Harry to draw him closer, but no sooner had their bodies made contact than Malfoy pushed him an arm's length away, his fingers till tight in the front of Harry's shirt.

"Ow. God and fuck, Potter. Get these fucking things off me."

Harry grinned at the desperation in Malfoy's voice at long last. He cocked his head to the side. "Whatever happened to, I don't feel pain; I can wear those all day and not even notice," he teased, mocking Malfoy's voice and accent. "Only half-blood pussies would complain about a bit of a nipple tweak in the heat of the moment."

"God, I hate you," sighed Malfoy, having released his grip on Harry in order to unfasten his robes and shove them from his shoulders as quickly as possible.

"You nearly bit my nipple clear off! That's not the heat of the moment; that's barbaric."

"Fine, you win," muttered Malfoy. His robes pooled at his feet and he started on his shirt, tearing through the buttons until it fluttered open, revealing his pinkened chest and dark, tortured nipples. He sagged against the door, breathing hard. "I maintain, however, that if you weren't such a pussy, and didn't stop to whinge about something or other in the middle of sex all the time, you might find you actually enjoy a bit of a nipple tweak."

Harry moved close again, trailing his fingers up Malfoy's chest. The clamps were tiny, Transfigured from whatever they'd had lying around near the bed that morning, which happened to be a condom wrapper and a damp flannel, but they seemed to be doing the trick. Malfoy's nipples, having been teased into hardened nubs, jutted out from his chest just enough to hold the little clamps. Leaning closer, Harry could see that the tiny teeth had bitten into Malfoy's skin. He was right; that must hurt a fair bit. "I really don't think I whinge very often during sex," he said dryly, giving Malfoy a mischievous smile. "I think I'm usually too busy enjoying myself."

Relenting, Malfoy hid a small smile of his own.

"Now," murmured Harry, dipping his head. "Where were we?" With a flick of his tongue, he touched it to the bit of Malfoy's right nipple available around the side of the clamp, letting Malfoy's hitched breath warm him down to his toes.

"Fuck," breathed Malfoy.

"The thing is," said Harry quietly, in between laving his tongue over Malfoy's nipple, "I might not enjoy the nipple stuff so much, but–" another slow, wet press – "I know that you do."

"And I get whatever I want?"

Harry raised his head to catch Malfoy gazing down at him, amusement warring with arousal in his eyes. "Only you, princess," said Harry, grinning. "Anything you want."

"Mm. Good. Then take these fucking things off."

"Not so fast." Harry straightened up and reached down for Malfoy's trousers. Once they were unfastened, he did the same for his own. He leaned in close to Malfoy's ear. "You know what's going to happen when they come off, don't you?" he murmured.

"Not definitively, no, but it'd damn well better have something to do with coming my brains out." Malfoy's lips were parted and his breath was coming in uneven huffs, the pink of his cheeks spreading down his neck.

Harry slid his hand into Malfoy's trousers. "That what you want?" he breathed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"God. Yes, okay? Come on, Potter."

Harry curled his fingers around Malfoy's prick, desire surging through him even stronger than it usually did, because seeing Malfoy this far gone, this desperate, made Harry turn inside out with arousal. He stroked Malfoy steadily, pausing only to whisper a lubrication spell. The sweat on Malfoy's brow began to mat his perfect hair, and as it fell into his eyes, Harry leaned in to kiss the breath out of him. Malfoy's tongue met his in a fierce tangle, low moans spilling out into the empty office around them.

When he felt Malfoy getting close, Harry paused and reached for his own cock, pressing it together with Malfoy's in his fist and stroking hard. His thumb massaged both sensitive heads, smoothing the moisture and lubricant between them in a slick, steady slide. The fingers of his free hand moved lightly up Malfoy's chest, flicking at the clamps every few strokes. Malfoy's knees buckled and he gasped, his hands clinging to Harry's hips. "Harry," he breathed, the name a staccato puff of air he only ever managed at the very height of his arousal, but Harry took in every strained syllable.

"Ready?" murmured Harry, brushing his lips over Malfoy's ear. In response, Malfoy's fingers only clenched tighter against Harry's hips. "Okay. Come on, feel that." He reached his free hand out and snapped open the right clamp, keeping his other hand steady around Malfoy's prick. He watched with fascination as the colour rushed back into Malfoy's nipple. Malfoy made a low, groaning noise in the back of his throat, his prick beginning to jerk. "One more," whispered Harry. He moved his hand and positioned it over the second clamp.

"Coming," moaned Malfoy, the back of his head hitting the door. "God, yes, come on, Potter. Do it."

Harry sped up his strokes as he released the clamp, and Malfoy dissolved underneath him into a mess of sensation. He gasped as he began to pulse in Harry's fist, his orgasm shuddering out of him as the blood rushed back into his raw nipples. "Oh my God, you kinky fuck," said Harry with a breathy laugh. One, two more strokes, and he was coming as well, releasing Malfoy's cock and doubling over to milk his own orgasm into his fist.

Panting, they slouched together against the door, softening cocks brushing against each other and nipple clamps forgotten on the floor. Slowly, Harry lifted his head and smiled, brushing a soft kiss across Malfoy's parted lips.

"Good?" he murmured, and Malfoy nearly laughed.

"Not bad," he managed, swallowing down another moan. "First day working on the same floor, though, and we can't even make it to the morning coffee break." He rolled his eyes. "Now I remember why I didn't bother trying to become an Auror."

Grinning, Harry bent down and retrieved one of the clamps from where it had fallen. He held it up in front of them and eyed it critically. "Yeah," he said, "but in the interests of fairness and all, I suppose I'll have to try it."

Malfoy raised a brow. "For day two?"

"Bet I can make it till lunch."

"Bet you can't even make it out the front door in the morning, more like."

Harry stepped back and glared. "Terms?"

A slow smile crept over Malfoy's lips. "Loser has to fetch all the inkpots required for the duration of the afternoon."

"And any other menial tasks," added Harry.

"You're on, Potter."

Righting his clothing, Harry couldn't push the stupid grin off his face. "My very own office boy," he murmured, letting his hand drift down to Malfoy's arse. "I like the sound of that."


-fin-



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