LONG FIC: "Boundaries" (Harry/Draco, NC17)
Title: Boundaries Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: NC17 Words: ~3900 Summary: The US government has just adopted a policy to confiscate penis-enlarging devices at the border. Wouldn’t you know, Draco's in the import business, and Harry gets called in to spring him from custody.
Boundaries
It was, of course, the middle of the night when the Floo flared to life and the amplified voice boomed through the flat. "Potter!"
Harry sat straight up, kicking off the tangled sheets and slapping at the bedside table for his glasses, then staggered into the sitting room, squinting in the lights that had come up when the call came in. "Wha?" He scratched his head and tried to pat down the clump of hair that was standing off to the side as he looked toward the fireplace.
"Level Four," the man said. Peltham, Harry thought, or Peltman. "It's Malfoy, and we need someone with some clout."
Harry blinked, trying to arrange any sort of continuity to his thoughts; he'd never been at his best when wakened from vivid dreams. "Malfoy? But the informants say he's in--"
"In Canada, yes. Or, more precisely… no, that can wait. We'll have the dossier waiting for you when you get here. Do try to be fast. Though, uh, sorry about the interruption." Peltham's gaze dropped downward for an instant, his professional demeanor slipping just a bit.
Harry followed his gaze and blushed. The reflex to get up immediately had been drummed into him in training. He hadn't actually stopped to think about being naked, or about the fact that his sheets had been tangled around him because he'd been dreaming. Vividly. A handful of images flooded back into his mind, and he blushed harder. "Uh. Sorry."
"Nothing to be done about it. Director'll be expecting you in twenty." Peltham's head vanished, and Harry turned to go back into the bedroom for clean underwear, pointing over his shoulder at the coffee machine as he went. The man was right; there was no time to do a bloody thing about it if he wanted to eat first, and, since it was two in the morning and in all likelihood he was about to traipse a third of the way around the world to rescue an ungrateful idiot from his own …idiot-ness, since that was usually how Malfoy wound up in scrapes, he had a feeling he was going to need fuel.
Damn it, this was why they'd let Malfoy hare off across the pond anyway. Fewer connections, fewer Death Eaters (unless the reports about Toronto were truer than they seemed to be, but that was neither here nor there), and fewer opportunities to be a pain the Aurors Corps's collective arse. Also, fewer opportunities for Harry to find himself entangled in stupidity brought on by following his cock; this wasn't a listed reason anywhere, but it was a reason Harry had voiced full support of the visa. Too many angry screwed-up encounters that never led anywhere but frustrated wanking and overly sexual dreams. Such as the one from which he'd just awakened.
He deliberately stopped thinking about the dream and grabbed his underwear. With a stab of his wand, the bed tidied into something passable because the odds of Molly 'popping in' for a little mothering on any given morning remained higher than seemed right, and he didn't want a lecture on his return, and then he went through to the bath. A cold shower was obviously in order before a meeting with the director, and also before going to fetch Draco Goddamn Malfoy in the wilds of fucking Canada in the middle of the bleeding night.
The US-Canada border, at near midnight, was dark, with the only light coming from the window of the local office. He'd Portkeyed in blind, arriving on the outskirts of a tiny town somewhere, if his geography was right, in the river between New York and Ontario. At least, he hoped it was Ontario, because he thought maybe New York also bordered Quebec, and his French was such crap that even after doing a charm that was supposed to help him retain it, Fleur had declared him completely hopeless. Everyone else could carry on a basic conversation with her extended family; Harry himself was stuck with gestures and charades.
Draco probably spoke French fluently, which argued for Quebec, just to piss Harry off, which of course was a ridiculous line of reasoning, but then, his body thought it was four in the morning so he felt entirely entitled to his irrationality. He glanced at the sign over the desk, which was in both French and English, and scowled, but asked anyway. "I'm from the embassy, here to see about a British national that's being held for attempting to import, ah, sexual--"
The Muggle woman who looked up at him over half-circle glasses attached to dreadful purple beads that fell to her chest and then rose around her neck rolled her eyes. "Room three." She pointed over her shoulder with a jerk of her thumb. "And let me tell you, I'm 'bout two minutes from wringing his scrawny neck for being a pain in my ass, buzzing for something every ten goddamn minutes. Here." She handed Harry two bottles of water, a box of tissues, and a package of four somewhat crushed wee sandwiches labeled 'peanut butter cheeze crackers', plus a bruised and abused apple, a pair of rather moth-eaten blankets, and a booklet on local laws. "It's been a good seven since he last asked for water or a snack, might as well take it with you. Oh, sign here, and if you can get him to agree to the terms on the back of the complaint form, here, you can have him." She passed across a clipboard with two forms on it.
Harry raised his eyebrows, but scrawled his name and awkwardly gathered the sundry items in his arms, then started down the hall. Room three was on the right, the number stenciled in flaking paint over the frosted glass. Harry stood there a moment, trying to work out how the hell he was supposed to open the door nonmagically whilst holding too many oddly-shaped objects, then finally tapped at it with his toe.
"Are you knocking on the door of a room in which someone is being held? Honestly, I've heard the American school system is quite crap, but doesn't it seem unlikely the occupant is free to open the door? Also, as long as you're here, I'm still waiting for my tea, so I do thank you for saving me the trouble of pressing the button again. It was getting tedious."
Harry sighed and rearranged his things, using a wordless charm to at least increase their friction, then carefully freed a hand to twist the handle. The door swung open easily, and he stepped in. "Good to know; also, I'm nearly sure my educational background is nearly identical to yours. Probably better with the Au--academy training, after."
Draco looked up and sneered, though he didn't actually look annoyed. "Oh, excellent. Perfect. Just perfectly bloody excellent. Of course they sent you. Well, I suppose we'll have to make the best of it."
"Yes, and I'm dreadfully pleased to be here," Harry said, adding quietly, "After all, four in the bloody morning is the perfect time for a cross-Atlantic jaunt."
"Could have waited for morning."
"Hardly. They decided you were too likely to create a sodding multinational Muggle incident, and given the materials you were attempting to illegally import were--"
"They were not bloody illegal when I started, and now I have the stock," Draco complained. Harry disengaged all the things from his hands and closed the door, then cast surreptitious muffling and disillusionment charms so the officers here would be able to tell they were speaking, but wouldn’t hear--or see--the content of the conversation even if they shouted. Which, given this was Draco, he estimated was roughly a ninety-seven percent likelihood.
"Yes, and they're illegal now, and while the Muggles don't know who they have, the local magical authorities would love, love, love to have a reason to make a bloody example of you under their growing idiotic policies."
"Example of me? Why?"
"Your name isn't exactly the cleanest one in the world, you know. They've been tolerating you as long as you didn't do anything actually illegal, but now, they'd love to put your name back in the papers. The Daily Oracle in Washington is practically drooling at the thought, though we've got them holding off for the moment, only because I'm me, which, by the way, I bloody hate."
"Poor you."
"Fuck off. And don't think I'm going to forget it's you that made the stupid mess."
"Yes, well, I already had the damned things, and I ask you, what the fuck was I supposed to do with them? There's a limit to the number one can reasonably use for personal gratification, not that I've any need to enlarge mine, and not that I'd even know what to do with one as they come with dreadful instructions and no one is willing to discuss personal experience. Not that I've been asking; I assume men who opt to have their cocks sucked by a machine take their life in their hands anyway."
Harry shrugged and opened one of the bottles of water. "Presumably better than you've been getting; I think you do protest too much."
"Fuck you."
"I'm not the one who requires rescuing. Also, I'm to get you to agree to the terms on the reverse of something here…" Harry looked around for the clipboard, then found it under the blankets. "Unless you'd rather bed down, I suppose on that cushioned bench. They've sent you blankets." The notion of sleep made him yawn. "Please do choose, since if you're going to bed, so am I." He tossed one blanket at Draco and pulled the other toward himself. "There's the paper with the terms in question."
"I'm not agreeing to any bloody terms of my guilt. Not. My. Fault. Are you daft, or just deaf?"
Harry sighed. "Bed, then. Since I'm the one being inconvenienced, I believe I shall take the bench myself."
Draco scowled. "You're a bloody… officer of the law."
"Thanks for the concern, but I did put up a charm; you're not going to make it any worse. Also, before you splinch yourself, yes, I could undo the mess if you just disappeared yourself at this point, but there are anti-Apparition artifacts on my person that certainly encompass this room. You'd just lose an eye or something. Or, more appropriately to this case, a testicle." Harry moved to the bench, which was not really long enough, and not really wide enough, and also not really cushioned as much as one might hope, but beat the hell out of the table or the floor, and lay down, taking off his glasses and tugging the blanket over himself. "Now eat your supper like a good boy and perhaps in the morning you'll be more reasonable."
Draco snorted. "You give up awfully easily. I suppose you just want an excuse to sleep with me."
Harry raised up onto his elbows. "Fuck you. For one thing, if all I wanted was sex, I could probably find someone a lot less mouthy. For another, this does not constitute 'sleeping with you' in the sense you mean, since else it would follow that you slept with Greg Goyle for years."
"Still, you might put up more of a fight."
"You want a fight?" Harry flopped back down. "Haven't we done enough of that? It's all we ever do. So, no thanks. I know. How about you fight with one of your illegal toys. It can be dangerous at you, and you can quail in fear, all right?"
"You want to watch me play with a device which sucks my dick? Pervert."
"What? No. No, I meant you should entertain yourself and leave me out of it." Harry ignored the image that came to his head and didn't glance in Draco's direction.
"Oh, that's better," Draco said. "You want to watch me jerk off."
"I. That's not what I said! Honestly!" Harry paused a moment, then turned on his side, toward the wall; that image was even worse, and he didn't need Draco to see what it was doing to him.
"Ah, well, all right, then." Draco went silent, and then Harry heard the rustling of the blanket being opened up, the thump of shoes being dropped onto the floor unworn. He lay there a moment longer as Draco arranged himself for sleep, but the way his knee was pressing against the wall and the way it was only a few inches from his face were oppressive. He'd lived in the closet under the stairs for too many years to ever be comfortable in such confinement. It wasn't a phobia, exactly, but he wasn't going to fall asleep.
He lay with his eyes closed a few more minutes, then sighed and turned over.
Draco was lying on the table.
On his back.
His feet toward Harry.
Jerking off.
Harry gasped and shoved his glasses back on his nose. "Malfoy! What the hell is wrong with you?"
Draco's hand stopped moving, but he didn't sit up. "Your idea. Plus, you said you cast the charms, so it's not like anyone can see. And you had your back turned."
"Well, now I don't."
"I gathered." Draco dropped his hand away, leaving his cock standing away from him, hard and pink, framed by his feet, from Harry's point of view. Actually, that was all Harry could see of him: two feet leaning outward at an angle, and his cock standing up between, leaning slightly to the left. Well, Harry's right. Draco's left.
Harry closed his eyes and tried not to think about why he was noticing the direction in which Malfoy's cock was leaning.
"Potter."
"What?"
"You're blushing."
Harry opened his eyes. "Because someone has had the unbelievable poor taste to jerk off seven feet away from me, with no--what the hell are you doing?"
"You seemed to have a problem with me being seven feet away."
"I didn't mean…Malfoy!" Harry squished back against the wall as hard as he could as Draco cheerfully sat his naked pale (round, squeezable, which Harry was not noticing, not at all) arse in the concave between his knees and his chest. "Honestly. Boundaries!"
"Yes," Draco said. "Like borders. Sometimes one has to cross them, even if it's occasionally not supposed to be allowed or some damn thing. Also…" He wiggled his altogether too-appealing bum, causing Harry to catch his breath and suppress of groan. "If I didn't violate your boundaries, how would I check for that?"
"What that?" Harry asked, feigning innocence.
"That," Draco said, pressing back. "That hard-on you've got from watching me wank." He smirked.
"No idea what you're talking about."
"Liar." Draco leaned down. "You want me to agree to the terms on the papers, don't you?"
"What? What's that to do with--"
"Simple. We make a side arrangement, in which aside from their terms, we spend a little time cock-sucking. Not with illegal devices."
"I'm not sucking your cock, Malfoy." Harry closed his eyes again, well aware he was definitely not going to be sleeping. "Not a chance." He was relieved when Malfoy sighed and stood up, then gasped when the blanket came off and fingers were working at the waistband of his trousers. "Malfoy!"
"I'm flexible," Draco said. "You don't want to suck mine, but everyone likes to be sucked. Right?"
Harry slapped his hands away. "Yes, but that doesn't mean I want to be sucked by you right now."
"Oh, so, later then." Draco pursed his lips. "Well, you won't mind if I go ahead and take care of myself, then." He sat back down, arse snugly against Harry's open flies, and wrapped his fingers around his cock.
Harry groaned. "Malfoy. I. Am an Auror here to get you off. You. Are--"
Draco snorted. "You're doing it wrong."
"Not what I meant! GOD." Harry lifted up his hand and shoved roughly, pushing Draco off the narrow bench and sprawling onto the floor on his knees and one hand. The other hand continued wanking, and Draco looked over his shoulder.
"Like this view better?" He let go of his cock and stroked his way back over his balls, then let his fingers crawl up slowly to press at his hole.
Harry stared. "What? No!"
Draco shook his head. "Denial isn't your strong suit, Potter. You've wanted this for years. You've gone home and wanked after every time you've hauled me in, and you know it." He raised up on his knees and swiveled around. "You'll have to do the lube charm, though, as there's nothing especially useful for it in here and if I do magic in a Muggle agency--"
Harry sat up all at once, snarling. "I'm not doing a bloody lube charm, Draco. It isn't as though what I do here isn't trackable, since I'm on duty."
"And if it weren't?"
"Irrelevant." Harry shifted, scowling, trying to relieve the pressure in his crotch without touching himself or adjusting his trousers. The effort failed.
"But you won't let me suck you. You won't suck me. Honestly, Potter, masochism doesn't suit you, when it's not in the pursuit of a dark lord."
Harry stood and grabbed the clipboard off the chair where Draco had apparently left it, and held it out. "You can take us home any time, you idiot. Agree to the charges and we can get out of here, and then you can go home and find a whore to bugger you until you bleed for all I care."
Draco rolled over and sat, one knee dragged up, hands on the floor behind him. "And you can go home and wank. Again. Don't you ever get tired of being a saint, Potter?"
"Not a saint." Harry shook the clipboard, then took the hand Draco put up and hauled him upright. "Just sign the damn form."
Draco took the clipboard and glanced at the form, then set it aside on the table again and stepped forward. His hands flashed out to Harry, one around his waist, the other down the front of his open trousers, and just like that they were standing, cock to cock, Draco's warm hand around both of them, Harry shuddering as fingers squeezed and a thumb slid slick across his tip. "Malfoy…"
"No bitching," Draco said. "No bitching until after you come."
Harry tried to pull back, but there was the thumb again, and fuck, fine, he'd think of an explanation later. He Summoned his wand from the bench and cast charm after charm: stripping away his clothes, widening the bench, thickening the cushion. He steered Draco backward to the new and improved bed and pushed him down, then dropped to his knees. "I get to bitch after, seeing as I may have to find a new line of work," he said, "And it had better be worth it."
Draco grinned. "You won't get in trouble," he said confidently. "And if it's not, you can give me pointers for improvement. For next time." He lay back, lifting his knees. "Come on."
Harry shook his head. "No."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter." Draco's stomach muscles flexed as he made to sit back up, then shuddered as Harry mouthed the head of his cock.
Harry looked up. "You were saying?"
"Nothing. I was saying nothing. Go back to doing that."
"No." Harry took Draco's cock into his mouth deep, sucking hard, glancing up to watch Draco's eyes roll back.
"Fuck, Potter. You are the contrariest fuck I've ever had."
Harry lifted his head and licked his lips. "Haven't had me yet."
"See?"
"Yeah, I'm the difficult one here. Also, I don't take orders." Harry cast the lube charm and dropped his head again, sucking Draco's cock into his throat as he slid two fingers in hard, pressing and turning roughly.
Draco arched, breathing harshly, and grabbed at Harry's hair, yanking hard. "Enough. Get. Just, if I say please? Please get up here?"
Harry reached back with his free hand, summoning the clipboard. "Better. However, as I don't trust you, let's get this out of the way first."
Draco scowled, but Harry quirked his fingers, still buried in Draco's arse. Draco whimpered and shudderingly pulled the Muggle pen out of the clasp and scrawled his name. "Tell me you aren't going to leave me like this."
"I should," Harry said. "I should, but I should get something out of this bloody trip. Middle of the night for penis enlargers. Honestly." He crawled up onto the bed, pushing Draco's knees up hard, and positioned himself. Draco rocked up, eager.
"Worked, though. I mean, not that I was illegally importing anything on purpose, but I did successfully enlarge your penis. So at least there's that."
Harry pushed in fast. "You do that a lot," he muttered. "Stubborn impossible maddening…"
"Aw, I think I hear a confession of true love," Draco said. He hooked his ankles behind Harry's thighs and held him fast, jerking his cock quickly with one hand and pulling Harry's head down with the other. "Don’t worry," he whispered. "I wank over you a lot, too."
Harry groaned and pushed harder, hoping that his muffling charm was holding, gasping when Draco spurted onto his stomach and squeezed around his cock. He didn't bother trying to hold back, following him over the edge with a grunt. He dropped onto his elbows, letting Draco's thighs go where they would. "That wasn't true love. It was frustration."
Draco shrugged. "Works for me. Now I admitted the whatever the fuck it was; get me out of here."
Harry raised up slightly, still panting. "Could have done that without the fucking, you know. All you had to do was sign the form."
"Course. But then I wouldn’t have got the fucking, now would I?" He smirked. "You need to get back immediately?"
"What?"
"I was thinking, perhaps after you get me out of here, we could find someplace with a real bed and possibly an in-room spa, and frustrate each other some more."
Harry shook his head and stood, muttering a cleaning charm and reversing the charms on the bench. Draco hit the floor, arse-first, when it shrunk.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry. However, serves you right for being a completely impossible wanker."
Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Psht. You're Harry Potter, Boy, or, these days, Man, Who--"
"Don't even."
"Is In the Papers Every Two Minutes. You can handle that, you can handle me. Plus, I actually want to be handled."
Harry sighed. "Fine. Get dressed. We'll dispose of your legal woes, get rid of your dick-suckers, and go find a place to crash."
"Like to keep one dick-sucker, if possible," Draco said. Harry looked up, tilting his head, and he added, "What? You were good at it!"
Harry ignored him and tidied up the materials he'd brought in, then got himself dressed and waited for Draco to do the same before dropping the muffling and disillusionment charms. "Come on. And look chastened and remorseful."
Draco huffed and pursed his lips. "I knew that. I'm not a fucking idiot, Potter."
Harry opened the door and turned back. "Good. I don't like fucking idiots." He walked out into the corridor and took the clipboard back to the front desk, then led Draco to the edge of the town to pick up the abandoned Portkey and adjust its trajectory. There was definitely not an appropriate hotel on this island, and if he was doing this, he was doing it right.