hd365_mod (hd365_mod) wrote in hd_365, @ 2006-03-13 15:33:00 |
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Original poster: grey_hunter
Title: Nothing but hot air
Author: Stray (grey_hunter)
12. March 2006
Pairing: HP/DM
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: slash, uh... pre-shag.
Word count: ~1800
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters and make no money of it. I'm not sure I would even if I owned them.
Beta: not beta-ed.
And besides that, Draco seemed tired. Harry was glad that it wasn't anything more than that. He would have gladly forgotten the previous day. If it had happened at work, Merryweather would have surely taken care that Draco doesn't have to come the next day, or more likely ever again. Harry didn't want to acknowledge it, but deep inside, he knew that his boss would have been right. If that ever happened during an assignment not only other people but also Draco's own life could be in danger. And surely Draco knew that as well. But he didn't like to talk about it, in fact, he seemed determined to forget the issue and keep up appearances. Harry wanted to speak with him, but so far, he only managed to make Draco angry whenever he just hinted at it.
And then there was this other issue. Unfortunately, while waiting for Draco outside of the courtroom, Harry stumbled upon George Weasley.
George had only asked what was wrong with him…
It hadn't been his fault, Harry knew that – nor had it been George's. It had been the effect of the Veritaserum. But it still felt as if he had betrayed his lover.
He was tired mentally and physically, even though all he had done that day was standing before the court and answering questions. And betraying Draco.
He groaned and started into the direction of the bed with the intention of getting some shut eye, stripping off his clothes on the way without looking. He hoped Draco would crawl in with him and keep him warm without having to ask him, because in that moment it just didn't feel right to demand anything from his boyfriend after what he had done.
"What is this?" Draco's voice caught his attention. It didn't sound frightened or angry, more like incredulous. Harry opened his half-closed lids, only to come face to face with the object that had garnered Draco's disbelief. It was something like a surprise waiting for them in the form of a human-sized and curiously human-shaped package sitting on top of their double bed.
There was a card directly in front of Harry's eyes. He began to read aloud the flowing script on it.
"'Harry & Draco! Happy Anniversary! From Gred & Forge.'"
"Do you figure they have killed Merryweather and gift wrapped the body for us?" Draco asked, wondering.
Harry snorted. "No," he said, turning around the card in his fingers. "This says it's a custom made speciality from their shop. But which anniversary are they speaking about? Do we have one now?"
Draco looked up and contemplated the answer. The start of their relationship had been rather wobbly. They had more break-ups and imminent reconciliations than any of them could hope to keep count, and after a while it became a joke among their friends that they had at least one anniversary for each day of the year.
"Who knows?" Harry shrugged, and then abruptly cringed. Draco was always pedantic to remember every date, while Harry didn't much care for them. Still, he hadn't planned to reveal his ignorance quite in this indifferent manner; damn Veritaserum! Draco gave him a condescending glare, which promised that he would deal with him at a later time, but he seemed more interested in the package.
"So what do you think it is then?"
"I guess we are going to know if we unpack it."
"But it could be something dangerous, coming from those two…"
Harry didn't believe that. Perhaps dangerously stupid, but not dangerous, if his suspicion of why exactly they got this present was true.
"It isn't, the wards wouldn't have let is pass through them if it was."
Draco nodded, absently, and then he pounced at the bed and tore into the wrapping. With Harry's enthusiastic help, they got rid of it in no time, then took a step backward and tried to figure out what in flaming hell the thing occupying their bed was.
On top of their soft blanket sat a life-sized doll with dark hair, a lightning-bolt-shaped scar, blazing green eyes and rounded glasses - even though the rest of its body was naked, made of a rubbery material. In place of its belly button there was a cork to keep the air inside.
Startled laugh filled the room, coming from Draco, while Harry scowled at the script written onto the tag hanging down of the doll's left ear: Boy Who Loved. He plucked down the tag and, as he didn't know what to do at first, and because he felt too embarrassed to say anything, he tried to distract himself with reading the information on it.
And then he promptly wished he hadn't, because it described in great detail exactly what parts of the doll were spelled to look and feel realistic and how they functioned. His gaze travelled unwittingly to one of those parts, the most prominent feature of the doll - for the other couldn't be seen, only if examined from the other side, and noted that indeed, it looked realistic. Even if it seemed too short for his ego.
"Mine is bigger," he said, without realising that his mouth had betrayed his innermost thoughts, thanks to the drug still coursing through his veins. His words brought the laughing to a stop.
"True," Draco said. "And I'm sure ‘his' doesn't feel half as good in my arse." And then he promptly clamped both of his hands on top of his own mouth before more traitorous words could escape from it. Harry started laughing at their situation; after a few seconds of frowning at him, Draco followed suit.
Harry considered the bright red colour flushing his lover's face after his slip of tongue occurred. He couldn't deny the arousal that imagining his boyfriend entangled with the lifeless object made to his own resemblance invoked in him.
"Would you like to try it?" he asked, still looking at Draco, delighting in the mixture of excitement and embarrassment displayed on his lover's face, as he answered truthfully, because he couldn't do any differently right now.
"Yes."
"With me watching you swallowing it and then riding it until you come?" But then he had to brace himself for a surprise, because the answer wasn't what he had expected.
"I would much rather you joined in. Three is not always a crowd." Draco said, his cheeks still glowing pink. Recognising though that he had little choice but tell the truth if asked, he decided not to let himself be bothered by his own reckless tongue. Not if his confessions caused Harry's eyes brighten with need and - being a Slytherin made him involuntary think of that: not if he could reciprocate the torture with his own questions for his own gratification.
Harry gulped as he tried to picture the logistics of the scene before his eyes. He wasn't sure how they could make it work, but he knew with absolute safety that they damn well would. Being absorbed in his thoughts like that, the next question caught him unawares, not that he could have avoided answering truthfully even if it hadn't.
"Do you enjoy watching me pleasuring myself? Or do you perhaps even enjoy watching me with other men?"
"No!" Harry barked at the sudden, infuriating image of Draco embracing another man, which he could imagine just too clearly. "Not other men! But I have no objection against the first..."
"What have we here?" Draco cackled gleefully. "Do you perhaps fantasize about me like that?"
"Uh… sometimes I have fantasies about you and that anal plug of yours…" Harry finished with a blush.
"And do those fantasies include yourself? Because were they mine, they surely would."
"You, me and the plug?" Harry tried to clarify.
"Oh, yes. I like nothing more than playing with your body until I have you writhing and completely to my mercy. But that's for another time," Draco reminded Harry playfully. "Right now, we have you, me and Poppet. You have to content yourself with that."
"Poppet?" Harry asked with the intention of sounding amused, but his voice started trembling at the unexpected sight of Draco slipping out of his clothing and draping his naked body sensuously along the inflatable doll, dragging one finger along the plastic length teasingly.
"Oh, I'll be doing more than merely contend myself," Harry said, gulping. He hurriedly finished divesting himself of his socks and underwear, nearly tripping in them, so he could occupy his rightful place at the side of his lover. Or rather on top of him.
"So, a threesome?" he laughed at Draco, but now that they were actually here, he felt a bit hesitant. It was something lifeless after all, and it looked like a human. Draco nodded, but he seemed to be thinking.
"I have changed my mind," he said finally. "You are going to be in the middle."
Harry gaped at him for a few seconds, he wasn't ready for this!
"What?" Draco gave him a smirk. "Are you afraid of being sandwiched by me and Poppet?"
"Yes. No… that's not it… exactly." There had to be a problem if even the Veritaserum got confused. "Are you?"
Draco spluttered, but Harry recognised it for what it was: a tactic to postpone giving an answer. But postponing didn't mean being saved from it, so Harry finally got his response.
"I… I guess… not exactly afraid… But I don't really like the idea, no."
"So how about if we just get on with our regular shag?" Harry suddenly offered. He didn't miss the relief flashing in Draco's eyes, and a few seconds later they were both laughing again.
"So? Top or bottom?" Harry asked.
Draco grinned. "I'll let you choose. Which one do you like better?"
Typical Slytherin, Harry thought, to try and wring answers out of him when he wasn't able to evade it. But oddly, he didn't mind it. They had too many secrets already. A little honesty would do a lot of good to both of them. Perhaps this day wasn't such a complete waste after all.
Finis
A/N: Sorry for this, I guess, I wasn't in the right mood. Uh-oh.