Title: Harry and the Minister
Author: kinky_kneazle
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Kingsley
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Alternate pairing, agrexophilia
Other Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,232
Summary/Description:
Author's Notes: This is a little gift for saintgilbert for – oh, so many things. Much love to the wonderful mods for gifting me with a posting day this month, and more love to curiouslyfic for the beta and very helpful advice. This has been changed since Curi looked at it, and any errors that remain are mine.



"Do you want them to hear you? Is that it?"

Harry couldn't answer with his lover's hard cock impaling him. The slow, torturous thrusting continued, and Harry tried to bite back a whimper. He concentrated on the stone wall at his back, the fall of his robes around his thighs, the feel of his legs wrapped around strong hips. He thought that formal robes were really very convenient; they moved out the way so easily when one was being fucked against he wall in a small antechamber of the Ministry of Magic. Then a particularly hard thrust forced a groan from his throat.

"It is, isn't it?" That warm, deep voice whispered in his ear again. "You want them all to hear your moans. You want them all to know that the Boy-Who-Lived has the Minister of Magic's cock up his arse."

"No," he managed to gasp, though he felt his cock jump at the idea.

"No? You know they're out there. Know they're waiting for us to walk out and start tonight's festivities."

"Kingsley, please," Harry whispered, wanting more. Needing more. His hands fisted in the Minister's ornate, purple robes as Kingsley's mouth moved over his neck.

"No whispering, Harry. I want to hear you. Want to hear how beautiful your voice is when you moan my name. "

Kingsley's hips had almost stilled. There was a slight pulsing, a miniscule movement that Harry thought the other man might be helpless to control, but apart from that, Kingsley was still. Harry squirmed against the wall, trying to entice the Minister to return to fucking him, but he was held still by the strong body pressing him up against the wall.

"I want them to hear you," Kingsley continued. "I want them to hear you telling me what you want."

Harry tried to resist, he really did. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and he could resist the Imperius Curse. He could certainly resist the softly-spoken temptation of the Minister of Magic. Except he couldn't. From the first time Kingsley had spoken to him in that voice, that voice that was pure sin and so different from the matter-of-fact tones he used with everyone else, Harry had been helpless to resist. But this wasn't the Minister's office with only the man's secretary pasting that professional look on her face as he tried to look nonchalant despite the swollen lips, messy hair and – more often than not – the hickey beginning to bloom on his neck.

No, outside those doors were the cream of wizarding society, waiting to see him receive the highest award their world could grant – an Order of Merlin, First Class. The small room they were in was the dressing chambers for the Minister, put aside for his use before formal events such as this. But Kingsley was not interested in dressing for the awards ceremony; in fact, he seemed uninterested in anything to do with the event, not seeming to care that people were waiting. When he had first pushed Harry up against the wall, Harry had reminded him, in between gasps at the nibbles and licks along his neck.

"They will wait for us, Harry," Kingsley had said, and proceeded to push the formal robes up to Harry's waist.

The idea of his friends and schoolmates and foreign dignitaries listening to him have sex had made Harry feel like Kingsley had cast Petrificus Totalus at his cock, it was so hard between their bodies. But sometimes it was better not to tell. Sometimes it was better to claw at Kingsley's shoulders and clench his arse and gasp, 'No' to whatever question Kingsley was posing because that would spur the man on to different things. Better things. More interesting ways to convince Harry Potter that bending over for the Minister of Magic was exactly what he wanted to do.

Right now he pulled away, strong arms keeping Harry upright as he placed his feet back on the ground. There was a pause and a shared grin before Harry was bent over the dressing table. The mirror only had time to say, "What have we," before simultaneous silencing charms shut it up. Possibly forever. Then Kingsley was bent over Harry's back, his cock teasing Harry's hole and one of those big hands tangled in Harry's hair, pulling his head back. Harry looked in the mirror at the sight they made and felt his cock pulse.

"Do you want this?" Kingsley asked, shifting his hips a little.

"Yes," Harry managed to gasp.

"Well, I want this," Kingsley said, his other hand tracing Harry's throat, fingers lingering on his Adam's apple. "I want to hear every sigh. Every moan. Every shout."

"Yes," Harry said again and Kingsley released his hair, hand going to steady his cock.

"What was that, Harry?"

"Merlin, Kingsley. Fuck me!" Harry demanded, and Kingsley pushed in, a delighted smile on his face.

Harry didn't hold back. From mewling pleas to throaty grunts, he let every one echo through the room. Then Kingsley bent to murmur in his ear and Harry thought he was going to explode.

"Rita Skeeter," Kingsley said. Then, "Ron and Hermione," and "Draco Malfoy". Every name a person who was waiting outside for him, listening to him being buggered by the Minister of Magic. He braced his hands on the mirror and pushed back, desperate for release. Desperate to feel Kingsley's cock pulsing inside him.

His brain was saying, ohfuckohfuckohfuck but his mouth could not form words, just a guttural growl as the orgasm surged through him, his cock spurting untouched over the dressing table. Kingsley's fingers were digging in so hard they were sure to leave bruises.

Harry watched as Kingsley's head tipped back, a roared, "Harry, fuck, yes!" bouncing off the stone as the cock throbbed inside him. Their eyes met in the mirror and they shared a chuckle.

"There was a silencing charm, wasn't there?" Harry asked as Kingsley gently pulled out of him. Warm magic swept over him, cleaning him before Kingsley helped him upright. Another murmured word took the wrinkles from his robes, but Kingsley's careful hands fixed the collar and made a fruitless attempt to smooth Harry's hair.

"Of course. I cast one as we walked in, however I'm sure there is one built in to the room. I'm certainly not the first Minister to indulge my carnal passions prior to an event of this nature. Though, surely I'm the only one with such a handsome lover."

"I've seen their portraits. You're the only one who could get a handsome lover." Kingsley's deep laugh warmed Harry and suddenly he was ready to face them. The press, the public, the responsibility that had not ebbed even though Voldemort was now dead.

"Well, I'm ready but –" He reached forward to straighten Kingsley's robes, a fond smile curving his lips. Then a slight movement on Kingsley's shoulder caught Harry's attention and his hand shot out and caught something. He looked at it carefully – yes, a beetle, with rather interesting markings around its eyes.

"What is it?" Kingsley asked as Harry conjured a jar.

"Just a bug."

"Is it a problem?" Kingsley obviously realised there was more to it than he was saying.

Harry shook his head, placing the jar on the dressing table. "Nothing that an obliviation won't fix. Shall we?"

Kingsley pushed open the door and Harry followed him out into the crowd.