Title: Pret-a-Partenaire, 2/2
Percy had been fifteen minutes late for work today, completely unacceptable in his mind. But he couldn’t help that he had woken up that morning, prick hard and refusing to go down without a wank, which was, needless to say, highly out of the ordinary for Percy and, being unusual, put Percy off his entire morning schedule.
So his morning shower had taken twice as long, as he had used a full ten minutes to tease himself, as he liked to do, and bring himself to orgasm, pleased that the shower, at least, would leave him clean for the day’s work. He thought back to it now, how he had stroked his prick with soapy hands, scolding himself every time he thought of Draco Malfoy on his knees in front of him, and feeling a further spike of arousal each time, because it was so wrong: he was supposed to be helping him. Even now, the thought was getting Percy hard again, and he blanched at the mental image of him pushing Malfoy over his desk, scattering his neatly arranged paperwork and showing him all the mechanics of gay sex. This, too, was highly out of the ordinary – Percy was rarely the aggressor, and certainly almost never topped anyone, but the idea of being the teacher…held some appeal, certainly.
Percy glanced nervously at the door to Scrimgeour’s office, knowing that at any minute he would be popping out for his lunch meeting, but surreptitiously moved his hand down to his crotch anyway, palming at his prick through his trousers. It was so wrong, he knew it, but the times (rare though they were) that he wanked at work always provided the most intense orgasms… and Draco Malfoy certainly had him all hot and bothered.
Mind you, he still wasn’t entirely sure of his motives. Or Harry’s, for that matter. The whole thing smacked of odd – Harry working as Draco’s… middle man of sorts, taking an active interest in the gay ‘development’ of a man Percy assumed he’d hated. And, well, the way Draco talked about Harry, Percy couldn't help but think there was more to his interest than just attaching himself to the nearest gay man for guidance. Percy suspected he was being used.
Then Percy really thought about it, the two of them, and hit on the idea of Harry and Draco, writhing against one another, maybe in the corridor, or on Percy’s desk… and he nearly came in his pants. It was of no shock to Percy that he was fantasising about Harry – he’d had all manner of dirty thoughts when he’d found out Harry was dating Oliver: since he knew what at least one of them looked like – and acted like – naked, putting the two of them together in a fantasy had been fairly easy. Though the real naughty moment had been that one time he’d sworn Harry and Charlie had exchanged a look at Christmas… And now to hear that Harry was apparently quite promiscuous, well, it dredged up all manner of unsavoury thoughts.
Percy shook away the thought. Scrimgeour would be leaving any minute now. He pulled his hand away from his throbbing prick and tried to concentrate on work – he had several appointments to book, and three reports to file by the end of the day.
And then, as if the universe just knew that Percy had just been wanking (well, almost), Scrimgeour stalked out of his office, barking a quick “be back in a few hours” and then left Percy blissfully alone. Resisting the temptation to reach his hand back under his desk, Percy turned to his master schedule and started spelling in the next two weeks’ agenda. As he coloured in a column pink, he tried not to think about Draco’s pink lips, possibly a pink cock, and when he turned the adjoining row blue, he almost laughed at the thought of his poor, blue balls, and how his cock must be nearly purple by now. God, he couldn’t believe he was getting turned on by colour-coded spreadsheets.
This is what happened when romantic possibilities were unexpectedly introduced into his life. He could generally handle long periods of celibacy, and tended not to think and do such inappropriate things at work, really. But just the hint of a possible relationship (though he very much doubted there was long-term potential with Malfoy, who seemed more interested in experiencing gay sex for gay sex’s sake), and he seemed to be constantly horny, especially now that he was determined not to give into Malfoy’s advances. But, oh, had Malfoy felt so good, writhing up against him the previous evening, mouth eager and tongue thoroughly wicked. It had taken all of Percy’s resolve to push him away, and even now, he was trying not to think of all manner of secret nooks where he could sneak off with Malfoy and bugger him senseless…
Then, if by some horrible karmic coincidence, Malfoy was there, standing in front of Percy’s desk, hungry look in his eyes and at first, Percy was convinced it was just another vivid masturbatory fantasy. But even in his dirtiest fantasies, Percy couldn’t come up with the words that fell from Draco's (pink!) lips.
“I want to blow you. Now.”
Draco rolled his eyes and licked his lips, and Percy’s dick throbbed almost painfully.
“I want to suck you off, now. You can bitch and moan all you like about moving too fast – I need practise sucking a man off, and I’m afraid you’re it. I saw Scrimgeour leave, so you’ve no excuses.”
“You’re… insane,” Percy stammered, swallowing thickly. This was better than his dirtiest fantasies.
“Mildly so, yes. I am sick of being inexperienced, and if you won’t shag me, you can at least do this,” Malfoy ordered, flicking his wand at the door, and Percy noted that it banged against the doorframe but didn’t shut completely. The thought of it thrilled him just a bit.
Malfoy stalked around Percy’s desk and Percy spun round in his chair to face him, hands grasping the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. Malfoy got down on his knees in front of him, grabbing Percy’s thighs and forcing them apart, so he could settle more closely between them. Pushing aside Percy’s robes, Malfoy jerked the zip of Percy’s trousers down, right over his still-raging erection, causing him to yelp in a rather undignified manner.
“Already hard, then?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Percy’s cock, which he could feel straining wetly against the tight cotton of his briefs. “Naughty.” Grinning, Malfoy ran his fingers tentatively over the hard flesh, and Percy had to fight not to grind himself into his hand. Malfoy stroked a few times, sending pleasant shivers up and down Percy’s entire body, then gingerly worked Percy’s cock and balls through the slit in his underwear.
“You’re… bigger than I thought you’d be, Weasley.”
Percy couldn’t think of how to respond to that. If he’d been Charlie, he would have said something wicked and clever; if he were Bill, he’d have made some sort of coy retort. But he was Percy, and he couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘pardon me?’ or ‘thank you,’ and neither seemed particularly appropriate, so he just remained silent. Which was all well and good in the next moment when Malfoy lowered his head, taking a tentative swipe at Percy’s cock with his tongue, and he nearly shouted something entirely inappropriate. Instead he whimpered, which turned to a full-on moan a moment later when Malfoy apparently threw tentative out the window and engulfed Percy’s prick in one go.
“Oh, fuck!” Percy couldn’t help muttering as, after a few awkward tries at sucking and bobbing Malfoy successfully managed to do both while running the tip of his tongue around the tip of his cock just so, and the only thing that kept him from coming was Malfoy’s hand, pressed firmly against his balls. Malfoy had to be lying about not having done this before, because he knew exactly how to make Percy feel amazing and he was going to come soon, no matter what Malfoy did with his hand…
And then Malfoy released his hold, moving his hand instead to the base of Percy’s cock, using the other to smack Percy on the thigh. Puzzled, Percy looked down to find Malfoy peering up at him, a dirty, dirty look in his eyes and, following what he thought was his lead, Percy tried thrusting his hips upward, pistoning his cock into Malfoy's mouth. And yes it was glorious and it seemed to be just what Malfoy wanted as well, and he moaned around Percy's cock.
The vibrations up and down his prick set Percy off and he couldn’t help it, he came, shooting hot spurts into Malfoy's mouth, and then over his face as he jerked away.
"I'm so sorry Malfoy, that I didn't warn you, I…" Percy trailed off, fumbling with his trouser pocket and extracting a monogrammed handkerchief, which he handed over to Malfoy. Eyeing him with obvious annoyance, Malfoy tossed the handkerchief aside and simply spelled his face clean, doing the same with Percy's crotch while he was at it. Percy knew he was blushing like a virgin, despite the fact that he should have the upper hand here. He couldn’t believe he had just don't that, at work, too. And with Malfoy? He mentally smacked himself.
Percy tucked himself back into his underwear and swivelled his chair back round, just catching the door to his office wobbling, and a figure retreating hastily. Heart dropping into his stomach, Percy felt a bit of sick-up in his mouth – oh God, they’d been watched. And, well, perhaps he was just going mad, but he could have sworn the intruder looked like Harry Potter.
Harry was hard. Ridiculously and embarrassingly hard. He ducked into the nearest loo and, once he’d made sure he was alone, locked himself in one of the cubicles and whipped his dick out as fast as he could manage wearing a full set of robes with Muggle underclothes. God, he’d never imagined watching Malfoy suck off Percy could be that hot. But the sounds they’d both been making, especially Malfoy, as he moaned around the other man’s cock, like he’d really been enjoying it.
Harry’s hand flew over his cock, as he replayed the scene in his mind. He'd only gone by to ask Percy how the second date with Draco had gone, and when he'd got there, well, he'd heard them first, that wet smacking sound and gutteral moaning that tend to characterise sex. And then, seeing them…he'd mostly just been able to get the back of Percy's head, thrown back, his mouth dropped open in pleasure, and just a hint of Malfoy's head bobbing in his lap, but it was enough to make it obvious what they were doing. He'd been hard instantly, and it was only the fact that casting a Disillusionment Charm would have drawn their attention to him that he didn't stand right there in the corridor and wank.
His arousal levels being what they were (off the charts) and his recent sexual activity being pretty much null, Harry came quickly, shooting several runny white strands onto the metal cubicle door. Spent and sweaty, he collapsed down onto the covered toilet seat and dropped his head into this hands. What was he doing, wanking in a loo cubicle over Percy and Malfoy? Certainly, yes, he enjoyed the voyeuristic aspect – he occasionally would go to the back-rooms at Knobs and Broomsticks just to watch – but this was pompous Percy and git Malfoy!
Percy was, unbelievably, the easier of the two to accept – his view of him had become considerably more positive since Oliver told him, in the strictest confidence of course, that Percy had felt genuinely bad about his actions during the early days of the war, even though he had yet to apologise properly to Harry. And, well, apparently he was rather good in bed. "Quite keen to keep you hot and coming as long as possible," had been the way Oliver put it. The idea of Percy being as eager to please in bed as he was at work… well, Harry kept an open mind.
He was decidedly more closed-minded about Malfoy. Malfoy was brash, inconsiderate, he stole Harry's sandwich halves and vomited on his best shoes… and he was an accountant for Christ's sake! He's not an accountant, he's a financial advisor a shrill voice in his head scolded him, that sounded suspiciously like Malfoy. Oh, god, he had an internal Malfoy monologue now.
Harry flashed back on the scene in the office, filling in the blanks that his bad viewing angle had deprived him of. He imagined Percy's eyes wide behind his glasses, hands skittish, fingers tapping nervously against his thighs, maybe at one point reaching out and grasping Malfoy's shoulder. He reckoned Malfoy smiled while he did it, the corner of his lips quirking just slightly as Percy's prick filled his mouth. Did he swallow at all? Harry heard him sputtering when Percy came, but he couldn't be sure. Did Malfoy like it? Was he the kind of queer who liked to worship other men's cocks, savour having them in his mouth, sucking them down and making another man come, long and hard?
Harry could just picture Malfoy on his knees in front of him, smiling around his cock…
Oh, God, did he really want Malfoy to suck him off?
And he kind of wanted Percy Weasley after.
Draco was wary of this… place. He watched the funny moving surface, covered in little coloured plates topped with plastic domes and tried to figure out what was inside them. He glanced over at Percy, narrowing his eyes to let him know his disdain.
"You're a picky eater." Percy said matter-of-factly. "This is a la carte ordering and you're guaranteed to find something you like."
"Is it my fault that French restaurant didn't have a crème brulee? Bloody heathens…"
"You didn't have to shout at the waiter."
"He was looking at me funny."
"He was looking at you funnily."
"Did you just correct my grammar?"
"Let's sit down," Percy said breezily, nudging Draco's arm before taking off to the back of the restaurant, sliding into one side of a tacky white booth, flanked on the left by the funny conveyer thingy.
Draco took a seat and studied the display more closely. "How does this place work, exactly?"
"All the plates are colour-coded – all the orange ones are £3, all the pink ones are £3.50, and so on. If you see something on the belt that you like, just pick it up. If you want something ready-made, order it." He handed Draco a little book, which Draco saw was full of pictures of all the food served there, colour-coded, as Percy had said.
"What's with you and colour-coding?"
"When I came to your office, you were moaning something about colour-coded spreadsheets."
"Oh, nothing." Percy blushed.
Draco sniggered, then helped himself to a glass of water from a tap that sat right at the table. "So what are you getting?"
"Chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers," Percy answered automatically, not even looking up from the menu.
"That was fast."
"Oh, I always get the same thing."
"Then why are you looking at the menu?"
"I like to browse."
"Well, do you recommend anything?"
"Um, chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers?"
"Not very adventurous, are you?"
Except in the bedroom, Draco hoped, but he refrained from saying anything, lest they end up with a pair of hard-ons in a crowded sushi restaurant and nowhere to go take care of it.
"Right," Draco mumbled, looking over the chicken section, searching for something he might like. Plagued by indecision, he stared at the conveyer belt for a good two minutes, watching little sushi rolls and fruit plates whirring by on neon-coloured disks. Draco was not good at choosing from variety, it's why he liked small, upscale restaurants with a shortlist of specialties and seasonal dishes. This was sheer chaos!
A girl with heavy black eyeliner, vibrant pink highlights and a bored expression appeared at the end of their table, notepad in hand. "Do you know what you want?"
"Chicken katsu curry and salmon and asparagus skewers, please," Percy chirped immediately. She noted it down and then looked expectedly at Draco.
"Ummm… some salmon and asparagus skewers as well, please, and… um,…. Chicken teriyaki?"
"Sure thing." The girl nodded and walked off.
"Yours sounded good, so…" Draco said, attempting to explain his choice.
Percy laughed lightly. "It's fine, Draco. The skewers really are lovely. Nice and light. I've heard the chicken teriyaki is good, as well."
"Good!" Draco said a little too brightly.
"So, Draco. Explain this to me." Percy's conversational tone belied the seriousness of his question.
"You know, the whole thing – your figuring out you're gay, going to Harry for help, what you want from me. I'm sorry to be so serious, but I'd really like to know."
Oh dear God. And Percy wasn't going to let him order any alcohol.
"Ummmm…" Draco smiled awkwardly. "Well, I told you about Pansy. She can be a formidable witch when she wants to be, and, well, all it took was one mention of Potter, and there she was, breathing down my neck."
"And why Harry?"
"Well, who else did I know who was gay?"
Percy hid a snort of laugher behind a badly faked cough. "So you went to him for advice? Or were you hoping for a date?"
"A date? With Potter? Don't be ridiculous," Draco scoffed.
"But you're looking for sexual experience, obviously."
"Well, yes. What else would I be looking for?"
"It's a bit soon for that."
Percy looked disappointed. "Yes, I can certainly understand that."
Before Percy could continue or Draco could respond, one of the chefs started handing over their food. The two of them kept an amiable silence over the next few minutes as they waited for all their dishes to arrive and start eating. Percy was halfway through a salmon and asparagus skewer before he spoke.
"Draco, if it's sexual experience you're after, I'm not so sure I'm the right person for you. I tend to go for more serious relationships, less frivolity."
"But who's to say I can't get some sexual experience and be in a relationship with you?"
Percy sighed. "I think you'll find that once you get a taste for it, so to speak, that you don't want to settle with just one person. My relationship with Oliver didn't last very long for that reason, I think. You feel like you're settling before you've seen what the world has to offer. And I don't want to be your try-on, only to be left in the dust a short while later because you got bored."
Draco made several high pitched noises in the back of his throat, unsure whether or not he should feel offended. "I wouldn't get bored, Percy."
"Oh yes you would, trust me. I'm not particularly exciting. And I've seen it time and time again. Your first relationship tends not to be true love, and I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to get too emotionally invested in someone who won't stick around very long."
Draco frowned. "You are rather boring, aren't you?"
"I'm afraid so. Uncertainty gives me a bit of a nervous condition. I blame my mother." He grinned, popping an asparagus piece into his mouth.
"So are you breaking up with me?"
"We were a couple?"
"Well, not exactly."
"Then, no, I'm not breaking up with you. I'd love to continue our chats and take the occasional lunch or dinner out. I'm just not willing to be your sole outlet for sexual experimentation. Might I suggest going to a club or something? Harry's always tried to get me to go with him."
"I don't know… the last time was rather unpleasant."
"People were touching me."
"They tend to do that. Listen, the way I see it, you can do this one of two ways. You can find a total stranger to break you in or find a friend. Since you don't seem to be interested in Harry…"
"No! Definitely not." Draco could feel himself blush. "Are you seriously encouraging me to go to a club and seek out an anonymous sex partner?"
"Well, no, not anonymous. I was more thinking you could chat someone up at the bar, maybe go on a few dates and then… well, you know."
"Um, yeah." Draco blushed. What Percy was proposing certainly had merit, especially considering how horny he'd been recently. If Percy wasn't going to have sex with him, he needed to find another outlet. Percy, apparently seeing that he'd made his point, changed the subject.
"Now, let's talk about your spreadsheets, Malfoy..."
It was weird coming back to Knobs and Broomsticks without Harry. Draco felt twice as exposed without the rather formidable boy hero at his back, though there were admittedly fewer dodgy men salivating in his direction this time. Maybe Potter was right and they could smell fresh meat – and he wasn't so fresh anymore. Though he still hadn't managed to lose his so-called "gay virginity," but that was the point of tonight's exercise. Do some experimenting, so maybe Percy would consider him. Or Potter. Wait, no. Not Potter.
Draco gave a heavy, resigned sigh and let himself be swallowed up by the crowd on the dance floor. He wasn't going to drink tonight, well, not much, since he had become acutely aware of his tendency to vomit all over people when he'd had too much to drink. And what could be more of a libido kill than that? The music blasting through the club was some ethnic techno fusion, some Weird Sisters' tune made scratchy and faster using a combination of distortion and remix spells. Draco swayed, bopped and swivelled, gritting his teeth and trying to enjoy it when random men ground themselves on him, grabbed hold of his hips, dipped their heads to lick at his neck, collarbone. After several offers from the wrong sort to pop to the back of the club, Draco gave up on the dance floor and went over to the bar. Drinks it was then, vomit or no.
With a bit of pushing and relegating a nasty glare or two, Draco managed to get himself a place at the front of the bar, and he flagged down the first bartender who passed him. It was the same bloke who'd chatted him and Harry up before, he realised as the other man smiled at him.
"And what can I get you?" he asked, dark eyes glinting in the low light.
"Um, can I get one of those funny blue drink things?" Draco queried, realising he didn't know what any of the drinks were called. Potter did all the ordering last time. "I had one the last time I was here."
"Hmmm, yes, I remember," the bartender drawled wickedly, looking Draco up and down, surely catching sight of the lovebite on Draco's neck, from some vampiric pervert on the dance floor. "I'll get you two."
Before Draco could protest about not drinking too much, he'd whizzed off to the other side of the bar, and was already spelling several bottles into the air, making them pour in dashes and dumps into two glasses. A minute later he was back, setting the two glasses in front of him and spelling them on fire for a few seconds, before the fire fizzled out and the drinks turned their wild blue.
Draco smiled thinly. "Thanks. I really don't need two, though… do you want one?"
"If you're paying," the bartender returned cheekily.
"Sure, why not," Draco sighed, picking up the glass nearest him and raising it off the bar. "Cheers."
The bartender picked up the other glasses and returned his toast. "Cheers to you, too." They both took long draws from their respective glasses. "I'm Gabriel, by the way."
"Nice to see you again, Draco. Where's your… friend?"
"Did you have a fight?" Gabriel asked, tone more conspiratorial than sympathetic.
"No," Draco snapped. "He's not my boyfriend or anything."
"Oh, I didn't think he was, trust me. He comes in here enough; we all know he's not got a boyfriend. Just thought you were friends, seeing as he was showing you the ropes here, protecting you."
"I don't need protecting," Draco muttered, taking another swallow of murky blue alcohol.
"Oh?" Gabriel was looking at him, a spark of interest layered under his obvious curiosity. Draco studied him. Tall and thin, he had a strong set of shoulders and a slight but masculine physique. Draco could make out the toning in his chest and shoulders through his crisp, fitted lavender shirt. He had dark, straight hair that framed his face neatly – basically the opposite of Potter – this man knew how to use product! But what drew Draco to him was undoubtedly his eyes, warm brown and electric. His loaded stare, which told Draco quite frankly that Gabriel was ready, willing and very interested, went right to Draco's groin.
"No," answered Draco, suddenly desperate to get this going. "Do you want to go into the back with me?"
Gabriel grinned. "Love to. You'll have to wait a bit, though, my shift ends at 2. But I reckon we could sneak away a little early…"
Draco's stomach fluttered nervously. This was really going to happen. "Sounds brilliant. Get me another drink in the meantime, will you?"
"This is the best room in the place, you know," Gabriel said, walking backwards, his arms thrust out so as to show the place off. It looked like all the other dark rooms they'd passed, but Draco nodded anyway, following him into the space and sitting nervously on the padded bench against the back wall. The entire space was black as pitch, the walls, floor, ceiling, furniture. The only illumination came from several black lights in the corners, their fuzzy purple glow giving everything an other worldly look.
Gabriel leaned against the wall, next to a small stand which Draco could now see held several containers of lubricant and what looked like funny round things in plastic sleeves. Guess not all wizards like using spells. Draco himself was partial to using proper lube when he wanked.
"So have you done this before?" Gabriel asked, eying Draco knowingly.
To tell the truth or to lie? Draco didn't want to seem like some pathetic virgin, but if he lied and pretended he was über experienced, it could be… unpleasant.
"Not as such," he answered carefully.
Gabriel's expression seemed to indicate he needed some more information.
"Not with a man," Draco clarified reluctantly.
"Ah, that makes sense."
"Your friend said you were new to the scene, refused to share. Let me guess – you just got out of a serious relationship with a woman?"
"You two always shagged, but it just didn't do it for you and you didn't know why?"
"Well, don't worry," Gabriel grinned ferally, sitting down next to Draco and placing a hot and eager hand on his upper thigh. "This is much, much better." As the hand moved to rub at Draco's erection, Gabriel ducked his head down and began kissing Draco's neck, working his way up until he was rasping in his ear. "When I'm through with you, with doing things to you, you'll never want to fuck another woman again."
The music pounded in Harry's ears, the vibrations echoing throughout his entire body. He could feel the undulations of several hundred men moving on the dance floor; it was already 2 a.m. and the place was packed. Two Sickle shot night was probably helping the club with its numbers, and there was certainly a diverse enough selection for Harry to find someone he hadn't yet fucked and take him into a back-room for a bit of tension release.
Harry pushed through several reluctant bodies until he made it to the bar, hoping to find his hot bartender (he'd never even learned his name), but happy at least, when he didn't see him, to find five shots with his name on them, figuratively speaking. He rested, back against the bar, surveying the crowd, until the alcohol began to properly thrum through his bloodstream ten minutes later. He usually wasn't such a lightweight, but he hadn't eaten since lunch. He started to look for a likely bed-fellow, though there certainly wouldn't be a proper bed involved. There weren't any particularly likely candidates near the bar, so after signalling to the bartender and downing one more shot for good measure, he moved into the crowd on the dance floor.
After several minutes of awkwardly gyrating against some less-than-attractive men (Harry suspected all the good ones may have already buggered off for the night), Harry pushed toward the back of the club – maybe he could find some horny hanger-on in the back he could at least stick his dick in without having to look too closely at.
Rubbing at his half-hard prick through his trousers, Harry prowled through the dark corridor, lit only by the occasional black light spell. He keened his head from side to side, listening for smacking sounds of sex, taking deep draws through his nose of the pungent odour of sweat and musk. He peered through any cracked-open door he could find, looking for somewhere he might join in, or a fellow voyeur in need of some mutual relief. He found the door to the back most room – his regular room – slightly ajar, and was met with quite a sight when he pushed the door open just a smidge further and insinuated himself by the shadowed door frame. The bartender - his bartender, who had given him a blow job two weeks earlier – stood, hands on hips, pistoning his cock in and out of a slighter, blond man's body. The man under him moaned softly, hands braced against the bench in front of him, hips canting back aggressively at each push of the bartender's cock.
"Fuck, Gabriel," the blond moaned, and Harry smiled to himself. So the bartender's name was Gabriel, then. Something about the blond man's voice niggled at the back of Harry's brain as being familiar, but with the alcohol now firmly taken hold of his senses, Harry was at a loss as to why. He continued to watch as Gabriel shifted forward, reaching one hand under the other man's body and moving the other up to his chest, apparently to pinch at a nipple, if the blond man's cry of pain was any indication. But there was pleasure there too, and Harry couldn't help working his trousers open and taking his now fully hard prick in hand, enjoying the almost-dry friction of his clammy hand on the hot flesh. Now he just had to wait for the right moment to insinuate himself into this scenario…
Then Gabriel pulled the back, turning both of them around and sitting back on the bench, so the blond was now perched atop his thighs, bottoming from the top. Harry's eyes moved up from where their bodies joined, up to the blond's flushed pink cock, then all the way up – to Draco Malfoy's face. Starting, Harry jumped nearly a foot back, his backing hitting against the door frame painfully. He bit his lip to conceal his cry.
Not that the other two would have heard anyway.
"Oh fuck yes, Gabriel! Harder," Malfoy cried out, arching his back and throwing his head back. Gabriel took no time in sucking and nibbling at Malfoy's exposed throat before grabbing firm hold of his hips so he could drive up into Malfoy in a series of sharply punctuated thrusts. Malfoy gasped wordlessly and closed his eyes, the look of ecstasy on his face going straight to Harry's dick because Jesus Christ this had to be his first time. Harry recalled his first time and there was no way it was as good as Malfoy's expression seemed to indicate this was. Or, God, maybe they'd been doing this for weeks? But wouldn't Malfoy have told him…
"Fuck, so good…"
"Told you." Gabriel nudged Malfoy's jaw with chin and the other man craned his head back and to the side, meeting the bartender's mouth in a sloppy kiss, more an exchange of breath than anything else. Harry saw Gabriel's hand drift down to grasp Malfoy's erection and felt his insides tighten as Malfoy made the most delicious noise, gasping into Gabriel's mouth and breaking into a feral grin. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Malfoy smile.
It only took another thirty seconds watching before Harry was biting his lip again and coming, shooting vaguely in the vicinity of the floor as he kept his eyes firmly locked on Malfoy's writhing form. He watched, mesmerised still, another two minutes as Malfoy continued to ride Gabriel, face etched in concentration, from trying not to come or to finally come, Harry didn't know. An expression of sheer ecstasy crossed his face and Harry heard rather than saw Malfoy come; his eyes remained fixed on his dopey half smile, his now-drooping, sex-sated eyes. If Harry hadn't already come, that look would have done it.
He didn't stick around to watch the aftermath, to see Gabriel come, deep inside Malfoy's arse (unless he was kinky and did it on his face). Instead Harry fled the club as quickly as his orgasm-weak legs would carry him, bursting out into the cool air and drawing deep gulps of it into his lungs. Even after a long career as a back-room voyeur, Harry had to admit that that topped it all as the hottest thing he'd ever witnessed. And he'd seen almost everything, from vanilla to über kinky. But it had nothing to do with the what and everything to do with the who, he realised.
He was undeniably and rather shockingly attracted to Draco Malfoy. But not just that, he was loathe to admit that he wanted him. Wanted him in every sense of the word, from a quick back-alley fuck all the way to a dinner-date/telly watching/lazy Sunday companion.
Percy was barely halfway through his morning cup of tea when Draco burst into his office, a grin stretched wide across his face.
"I did it!" he proclaimed joyously.
"Keep it down - Scrimgeour!" Percy shushed him, glancing furtively at his boss' door. Draco shrugged, pulling a chair from the wall and sitting himself down in front of Percy's desk.
"Tea?" Percy offered, turning to his sideboard tea and coffee station to make him a cup before he'd even answered.
"Milk but no sugar, yes please."
Charming the kettle warm again, Percy made quick work of it, handing Malfoy a steaming mug of tea a moment later.
"Now, you did what, exactly?" Percy asked, glancing at Scrimgeour's door and casting an extra Muffling Charm, just in case.
"I shagged a bloke. Or, rather, he shagged me. It was brilliant."
Percy quirked both an amused and critical eyebrow. "Really? That was fast."
"Well, I figured it was best to get it over with. And technically it was someone I met a few weeks ago…"
"Bartender at Knobs & Broomsticks. He was… just amazing. I'm using a Cushioning Charm right now, if you know what I mean."
"Quite." Percy tried to suppress his slight disappointment behind a slight quirk of his lips. While he wanted Draco to go out and get some sexual experience, it was still very weird hearing about it after the fact. And he honestly hadn't thought he'd turn around and get to work the night after they "broke up," if you could call it that. "So, what did this guy look like? What was his name?" Percy began conversationally, leaning back in his chair, tea cradled between his hands. Might as well play the part of confidante if he couldn't be the lover.
"Gabriel. And he was tall, muscular but too much so, dark hair, pale skin. Just delicious."
"Sounds like Harry."
"What you just described – it sounds a bit like Harry."
"Why would you say that?" It looked like Draco was starting to sweat. Now Percy knew he was right, so he decided to go for broke.
"Well, that was my first thought. And, you know, every time we chat he seems to come up. I just think, maybe, that you have a bit of a thing for him."
"I do not! If anything, I'd say you have a thing for him," Draco accused, the sudden shrill tone his voice took on making it hard for Percy to take him seriously. He shrugged.
"Sure, have done for a while. But that doesn't mean that you don't, either. And I think your thing for Harry is quite different from my thing for Harry."
"What do you mean?" Draco eyed him warily.
"I'd like to do things with him. You'd like to be with him."
"You mean you don't want to be with him?" Draco challenged. "I thought you wanted a relationship."
"Harry has no interest in me, so no point in getting my hopes up." Surprised by his own candour, Percy offered Draco a small smile. Even if he had no chance with Harry, who only just tolerated him, mostly on behalf of his mother, he might as well see that Draco have a real opportunity with him.
Scrimgeour chose that exact moment to burst out of his office, barking at Percy about reports as he barrelled down the short hallway between his office and Percy's. He stopped short as he rounded the corner and found Percy and Malfoy sitting there, tea cups in hand.
"Mr Malfoy," he said shortly, giving Percy a look that said quite clearly that he should stop dilly-dallying and start doing whatever Scrimgeour wanted.
"Minister," Draco said, inclining his head politely. "I was just going." He pushed his tea cup onto Percy's desk and stood. "I'll talk to you later Percy, yeah?"
"Yeah," Percy answered with a small smile, then braced himself for Scrimgeour's sour mood.
With all the work Scrimgeour dumped on Percy, the morning flew by, and before he knew it, it was gone 3. Just as Percy was settling down to his afternoon tea, Harry appeared, as if on cue. He looked incredibly nervous and stood there a minute, wringing his hands, before Percy gestured for him to sit down.
"Hi. I, um, I'm sorry to interrupt you," Harry said, smiling apologetically. "It's just... you're the only one I can talk to, I think."
"Okay, Harry. Do you want some tea?"
"Yes, please. Thanks."
Percy made a quick cup of tea and handed it to Harry, flashing back briefly on his similar actions this morning. And if he had any luck this would be about...
"It's Draco. Err, Malfoy, I mean," Harry began suddenly.
"Oh?" Percy settled himself down for a long chat.
"Yes. Last night. I, well..." He stopped, searching for the words. "I saw him, in a club, having sex with someone. It was... weird."
Eyebrow arched, just so: "You watched him having sex?"
"It was an accident!" burst out Harry, who quickly blushed and covered his mouth, eyes darting toward Scrimgeour's office. "Is he in?"
"Long lunch. So you accidentally watched Draco having sex."
"Kind of. He was in the back-room of this club I go to, and the door was open..."
"You didn't have to stay..." Percy pointed out sagely though both he and Harry knew that if either were in that situation, they'd hardly turn around and leave. Well, Percy knew that about them both. He reckoned Harry thought it too pure for a spot of voyeurism.
"Well, at first I didn't know it was him. His back was to me, and he was with this bartender I know."
"And then you realised it was him...?"
"Yeah, and I froze. I mean, I was already..." Harry flushed and Percy tried to look open and accepting so he would continue. He also tried not to get hard at the thought. Harry continued. "Well, I was hard. And kind of touching myself. And it just felt better once I knew..." He blanched. "God, this is awful."
"Why is it awful, Harry? There's nothing wrong with fancying Draco."
"Do you?" Harry asked accusingly.
Percy sighed. "I like him, yes. But I don't think I fancy him quite the way you do."
"What do you mean?" Harry looked at him warily.
"He's... sweet. Like a kid brother." Not strictly true, but he had to sell this. "I feel like a mentor, not a lover... but you, well, I've seen the way you look at him, and with the way you've invested yourself in helping him... I think you care about him more than you'd like to admit. Not that I understand it..." That at least was the truth.
Harry frowned. "I... maybe," he finally resolved.
Percy smirked in triumph. "I knew it. Here, drink your tea." He indicated Harry's untouched mug, picking up his own neglected cuppa. They sat in semi-comfortable silence, Harry more starring into his tea than drinking it, until Percy glanced at the clock and realised his moment to slack unsupervised would be over soon.
"Listen, Harry," he began, watching as Harry flinched and looked up at him. "I have to get back to work. But why don't you come by later, around seven, say, and we'll chat? I'll even buy you a drink."
"Yeah, sure, Percy. I'd like that. I just can't talk to Ron or Hermione about this... you understand."
"Certainly." Percy gave him a small smile.
"Thanks." Harry didn't smile back. He dragged himself from his armchair and hovered at the door. "I'll see you later."
"Yep!" Percy chirped as Harry turned and left. As soon as he was down the corridor, Percy pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill and starting drafting a note to Draco. It was sneaky, to be sure, but he reckoned it was high time the two of them sat in the same room and talked this over.
The corridors of the Ministry were dark and deserted by the time Harry made his way down to Percy's office. Not that he was surprised – who stuck around until 7 on a Friday? Percy's office, however, emitted a pleasant glow of light down the long, dark marble hall and Harry approached with a bit of a skip in his step, despite himself. It would be good to talk this over with Percy, and he wasn't unaware of the irony of the other man advising him on dating Draco when he'd been the one to set the two of them up in the first place. Why hadn't he thought of breaking Draco in himself?
Denial, said a small voice at the back of Harry's mind, which sounded a lot like that Malfoy inner-monologue he'd seemed to have developed. Well, yes, he supposed he had been in denial. He'd found the other man attractive for almost as long as he could remember fancying boys – since the war, at least – and while he generally found him very annoying, he'd grown to like their lunches. He'd never realised how lonely lunch had been before without someone stealing his sandwiches and prattling on about multi-faceted business structures.
He was warming to the idea of fancying Malfoy, but that didn't mean he was prepared to face him just yet, but there he was, sitting in front of Percy's desk going on animatedly about something. Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the door, and would have been half-way down the hallway already had Percy not popped his head up and smiled broadly at him.
"Harry! Hi!" he chirped a little too pleasantly. He'd planned this, the great git... "Come sit down and join us."
Draco turned round in his chair, body tensing when he saw Harry. Oh God, had Percy told him? Did Draco think he was some pathetic girl for liking him? Or a pervert for watching him last night? Harry didn't realise he stood frozen in the doorway until Percy repeated his name, a concerned expression on his face. "Harry?"
"Um, yeah, hi." Harry slinked forward, pulling a stray chair over, but making sure to set it a good three feet away from Malfoy's.
"Hey." Draco smiled awkwardly at him, then turned and gave Percy a look Harry thought said "what the fuck is he doing here?" Harry's sentiments exactly.
"Look," Percy gave a heavy sigh, as he sat before them, looking very serious and professional with his posture straight, hands steepled on the desk before him. "I'll just say it right out. You two are being idiots. Ah, ah!" He held up a single finger in response to Harry and Draco's open, gaping mouths. "No protesting. Hear me out. You two clearly like each other. I mean, Harry – you're watching Draco have sex with other people – and Draco – you're having sex with people who look like Harry. You don't have to be an Unspeakable to figure it out."
"Wait, wait!" Draco interjected, spinning round and setting Harry with a horrified and incredulous look. "You've been watching me have sex!"
"Not on purpose!" Harry tried to defend himself, but it came out sounding ridiculous.
"What do you mean, not on purpose?"
"You keep leaving the door open!"
"Potter, you filthy pervert!"
"Me? What about you?" Harry affected a high, raspy voice. "'Oh, fuck, Gabriel, give it to me harder, more!' For a virgin, you're quite the cock whore, Malfoy."
Face mottled and red with anger, Malfoy spluttered a few times before managing actual words. "You fucking prick!" He lunged at Harry, wand forgotten on the floor, going at him fists balled and legs kicking. They scuffled on the floor in front of Percy's desk, cursing and kicking at each other, but doing little damage, until they were forcibly parted by Percy's Levitating them off and away from each other. He held them each at separate corners of the room, looking between them with an arched look of disdain.
"See? Idiots," he tsked. "Are you going to go at each other again, or can I let you down?" Both Harry and Draco nodded brusquely, and Percy let them down gently with a flick of his wrist.
"Okay, now that that's over with, you two should really talk," Percy instructed, pulling out a rather impressive bottle of Firewhisky and three small tumblers. "I promised liquor, so..."
"You drink, Percy?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"On occasion," Percy answered, small smile turning to smirk. "This particular bottle I took from the Minster's collection."
"Naughty," said Draco, and they couldn't help but all laugh at it.
"I have my moments," Percy agreed, unscrewing the cap and pouring each of them a liberal glassful. They resumed their seats as Percy passed each of them a glass, and Harry snuck several glances at Draco, catching him similarly darting his eyes over for a look once or twice. They both blushed and looked away when their eyes met.
Percy took a slow swig of alcohol and appraised them both. "Harry, I think you should tell Draco how watching him last night made you feel."
Harry nearly snorted into his whisky. "What is this, therapy?"
"Thera-what?" piped up Draco beside him, looking at Harry questioningly, then quickly flicking his eyes away.
"Therapy. Muggle thing."
Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I may have watched something called Dr Phil once or twice." He coughed. "Penny made me."
"One of many reasons why you decided you preferred cock, I presume?" Draco quipped, even though Harry was fairly sure he had no idea who or what Dr Phil was. It was pretty funny though, and he couldn't help laughing.
"Oh, yes, one of many," Percy played along, and Harry felt a new wave of respect for him. He was never this much fun at Weasley family parties.
Harry shifted nervously in his seat. "Why do I have to say it? Why can't he start?"
Percy huffed in annoyance. "Fine, I'll do this. Draco – Harry watched you suck me off last week, he was at the door to my office, and I'm pretty sure he got off on it. Then he watched you last night in the back-room with that bartender, and really enjoyed it." Harry wanted to die, but Percy wasn't finished. "Harry – on every date we went on, Draco and I inadvertently ended up talking about you. This is partly my speculation but, well, I think he wanted to get some... experience so you two could..." He coughed. "Draco?"
Harry turned to see Draco's reaction, and just caught him downing his entire glass of Firewhisky. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered under his breath, and Harry felt the air leave his chest. Did that mean it was true?
"Malfoy?" Harry said, leaving the question up in the air.
"This doesn't mean I want a relationship," Draco said shrilly, glaring first at Percy, who shrugged, then at Harry.
"Hey, neither do I!"
Percy looked like he didn't believe either of them. Harry wasn't so sure, either, but it sure sounded good. The move to get drunk was starting to look like a good one, so Harry similarly finished off his drink, smacking his lips together as the last drop burned down this throat.
"I think I need to be drunker," Harry said, holding his glass out to Percy, who obligingly refilled it.
"Me too." Draco held out his glass as well, which Percy filled, but far more reluctantly. Harry knew they were both thinking about Draco's tendency to get sick all over everything.
They all three sat there, sipping their Firewhisky and silently scrutinising each other. Percy was a right sneaky bastard when he wanted to be. Perhaps this is why Scrimgeour held onto him, instead of letting him go on to bigger and better things. Bet he did a lot of the dirty work. An image came unbidden to Harry's mind of Percy doing some rather dirty work to Scrimgeour. Already bright red from the drink, the other two hardly noticed Harry's sudden blush, but he could feel the rush of heat to his face, and to his groin. He thought back on Draco giving Percy a blow job. God, that was hot. The kinky and slightly intoxicated side of Harry wanted to suggest to the other two they re-enact the scene for him and, Merlin's balls, he could join in... fuck Draco over Percy's desk whilst Percy fucked him...
No. Harry shook the thought away. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. Percy clearly wasn't interested – he was basically shoving Draco at him, which, mind, Harry was quite thankful for. Knowing the two of them, it would have taken ages to admit they liked each other. And now... Harry looked over at Malfoy who, with an even paler complexion than Harry, was an even brighter shade of red. In this state, it wouldn't take much to get him into bed. Was it technically taking advantage if they were both drunk?
But he really wasn't quite drunk enough. He held out his glass to Percy for another refill and tried to ignore the look he had on his face. Like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking. Harry hoped he didn't though. Cause currently he was thinking up a half-dozen scenarios to get Draco into bed that night. Well, a half-dozen minus the threesome idea.
Fourth floor. Doors opening. Going up? Going down. Doors closing
Harry got into the lift, bracing himself against the wall as he felt a swell of drunkenness overtake him. Man, that Firewhisky had gone to his head fast. Draco clamoured in behind him, landing against the wall with a heavy thunk. Harry expected an exclamation of pain, but instead heard a high-pitched giggle.
"Ow?" More giggling. Harry rolled his eyes, now determined to show that he could hold his drink better. He pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the cool metal wall as the doors slid shut.
Doors closing. Going up?
"Did you really watch me blow Percy?" Draco asked, stressing all the wrong syllables so he sounded like an over-hyped five-year-old.
"Hmmmm," Harry murmured, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, seeking a cool breeze in the small, confined space.
"Did you wank off to it?"
"Shuddup, Malfoy," Harry moaned. He wasn't even hung-over and this was giving him a headache.
"It'd be hot if you did."
Harry heaved his body ungracefully sideways, so he could look bemusedly at Malfoy. His expression must have answered Draco's question, because before Harry could stop him, he'd lunged at the lift panel and pressed the stop button. The lift jerked, dipped and then came to a halt.
Draco slinked alongside the wall opposite Harry, affecting what Harry was sure he thought was coy but came across as just crooked and a bit silly looking. But no matter the ridiculous look on his face, what he was doing with his hand was far from funny. Draco was moving his hand languidly across his groin, palming at his erection as it strained clearly against his trousers. Harry swallowed, tasting the stale Firewhisky on his tongue, which made him think about Malfoy's mouth, Malfoy's tongue. Malfoy's taste. He couldn't help it; he moaned.
"Take it out," Draco rasped, instructions vague, though Harry knew exactly what he meant. Should he? God, yes.
Fumbling with his Muggle jeans and pants, Harry took his already half-hard cock in his hand, watching as Draco mirrored the action. It was far too hot and surreal doing this, together, in a lift, in the Ministry, but Harry pushed all that aside, and just starred at Malfoy's pink cock as it disappeared into his fist.
He stumbled across the small space that separated them, flopping himself onto Draco, lips mashing against his jaw, then mouth. First Draco protested at the sudden weight, then hummed contently into Harry's mouth as Harry brought his thigh between Draco's and angled their bodies until their pricks rubbed against each other.
"Fuck, Potter, want you," Draco moaned, rutting himself shamelessly against Harry's thigh and groin, as if aiming to get himself off as quickly as possible.
"Mmmmnnnn," Harry murmured, sliding his hands down Draco's thighs and grabbing hold of his buttocks firmly in both hands. Draco squirmed away from him instead of into the touch, not exactly what Harry was expecting.
"Still sore," Draco explained, relaxing slowly back against Harry's body as Harry moved his hands away from the offending area.
Okay, so no fucking Draco up the arse in the lift. Harry ignored the part of his brain that said another time, then. Being a little too intoxicated to be creative, Harry decided rutting against each other until they got off would be perfectly adequate. Not much for a first time together, but, really, how much of this would they actually remember in the morning?
Harry pushed himself up hard against Draco, aligning every body part closer together, shuddering at the feeling of their cocks, the only unclothed parts of them, rubbing against each other. Not quite wet enough for a smooth slide, their cocks dragged roughly against each other, causing both men to cry out at the sensation.
"Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Draco babbled, lips mouthing wetly against Harry's jaw.
Being intoxicated as they were, and as horny as Harry had been for the last hour, it didn't take either long to come, once Harry finally had the presence of mind to lick his right palm and then manoeuvre it between their bodies. He grabbed both of their pricks in his hand and jerked them roughly, swallowing both their cries in a sloppy kiss. They jerked and shuddered against each other, some come, Harry didn't know whose, soaking through his shirt and sticking it wetly to his belly.
They fell away from each other, landing side by side against the lift wall.
"Wow," Harry panted, the metal of the lift panelling cool against his back.
"Yeah," Draco joined in, chest heaving as they stood next to each other, coming down from their orgasm. Coming down from the whole evening.
The hot lift air became stifling, as their combined body heat, and all the excess energy they'd just created with their bodies, made it almost unbearable to stay in the confined space. Draco reached over and reactivated the lift, which shuddered before cranking back up again and heading downward once more.
"You know, that white caffè mocha isn't half as good as sex. I mean, not really," Harry mused as a stream of cool air wafted across his brow.
"I know Potter," Draco drawled, a cocky grin on his face. "Better than sex with a women, surely. But nothing to match a nice rough fuck with a bloke."
Harry snorted. "I can just see the advertising: 'Starbucks white caffè mocha – better than (heterosexual) sex!'"
"And if they ever come up with a drink that can beat what we just did, they will truly take over the world."
"Long live the evil empire," Harry added, dissolving into a fit of giggles.
"Do you have coffee at your place?" asked Draco from beside him.
"Of course I do. You had some when you were over..."
"Are you inviting yourself over?"
"Well, fine... but only if you promise not to vomit on me this time."
"Oh, fuck off, Potter." Though he sounded annoyed, Harry could hear the playfulness in his tone. And just a hint of lust.
Going up? Going down, intoned the elevator as the doors slid open to reveal a dark and empty foyer.
Definitely going down.
"You know, I think you're obsessed with this place."
Harry looked up and couldn't help smiling. He was starting to associate Pret and Draco Malfoy with each other.
"I like the food."
"You have to like more than the food to come here so often," Draco mused, taking a seat and opening his own sandwich box – a tuna mayonnaise to match Harry's, he noticed. "You know, you don't even like working at the Ministry. You should open up one of these places."
"Can't. They don't franchise."
"Aha! So you've looked into it!"
"I visited the website, where it says, loud and clear, that they don't franchise. I didn't go looking for it."
"Bullshit. You know, I bet the only reason they don't franchise is to keep the wizard management and house-elf staff a secret. But you're a wizard and all, so they might make an exception."
"I doubt that's the reason, Malfoy."
"Bet it is."
"You like it."
Harry laughed. "Only just."
"Are you two bickering again?" Percy appeared, salad in hand and a rather bored expression on his face. He plopped himself down between them and opened his container. Tuna Nicoise. What a tuna-loving trio they were.
"Nah, not exactly," Draco answered. "Just saying Harry should quit the Ministry and take over one of these places."
"But they don't franchise," said Percy automatically, causing Harry to laugh, a deep guffaw that had Draco rolling his eyes.
"Told you so," Harry teased.
"It's quite a fascinating business, Pret-a-Manger," continued Percy thoughtfully. "You know, the entire behind-the-scenes workforce is house-elves, many freed in the wake of the war and finding nowhere to work that would pay them fair wages."
"Well, you know it was a Hogwarts' elf that started the whole thing," Draco joined in animatedly, eyes alight with interest. They prattled back and forth about the Pret business structure, eventually moving on to a discussion on their advertising strategies and how they differed among Muggle and wizard audiences.
Great, now Harry had two economically-minded lunch partners. He sighed, tucking into his tuna mayonnaise, sitting back and enjoying the scene before him. Pret was even better now, with good company.