Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Crap! #2	By : blastendedskrewt Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 32233 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in Harry Potter's universe and make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author’s Note:

All the same warnings apply. Thanks for coming back to read the next bit and I LOVE all the rates and reviews—turns out the “rate” button works again (sometimes)! And sorry for the delay… the re-vamping of the AFF site tweaked my formatting and I was scrambling to fix it-- and it was kinda traumatic…

suicidein_angeleyes, thanks so much for your support and interest… you really are sweet to drop me nice notes and bestowing me with inspiration.

Vampirekisses, you are racking up some major karma points by making another soul very happy with your kind words! I’m glad you liked how that last one turned out (I did too, even though the direction it took caught me by surprise), and yeah… the rules about that kind of thing are stupid! (And I imagine for such a V.I.P. as Harry is, it would be exponentially worse)

seraphiccandy, thanks for giving this fic a chance and your insight. Also, thanks for pointing out the correct measurement for degrees: I know what you mean by using Brit terms, I’m the same way—I honestly didn’t know they typically use the Celsius scale (although in my defense, I made an effort to use ‘millimeters’ and ‘kilos’ where appropriate and JKR never mentions specific temperatures in The Series). Thanks for the tip! Psych major, eh? Me too. And let me tell you from experience, that’s a degree and knowledge you will use every day for the rest of your life no matter where your path takes you!

Hope you all enjoy this next romp into weirdness!

)*(

Discovered! (exploratory emissions)

~~ A collection of vignettes concerning some solitary experiments of coming and going (or going then coming ;), a series of short companion pieces to the long, strange trip of Harry and Draco’s experiences with exploring That. ~~

“Sample Speculation & Anal Analysis”

Draco had just finished his first cup of tea when they heard the Floo rush to life in the blond’s personal home-office. Harry was just about to ask who the hell would be so inconsiderate as to be disturbing them so early on a Sunday when they heard the disembodied voice urgently yelling, “Healer Malfoy? Healer Malfoy!”

“Bugger,” the Mediwizard muttered under his breath, “forgot I was on-call while Jenkins is at that symposium in The States.” Draco delicately dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin and briskly strode to the fireplace in his study. His constant companion followed, but made sure to stay out of sight-line at the door.

“Ah, Healer Malfoy, sorry to interrupt your morning,” the flickering face in the flames apologized, taking in the casual (almost disheveled) appearance of the normally impeccably put-together man in his dressing gown; although there was a look of relief at making successful contact with the man, a strong anxiety was abundantly apparent as the young attendant pressed on, “but you’re needed on our floor A.S.A.P. We’ve got a nasty case of unknown origin and especially need your expertise. We fear it may have Dark facets and none of the newly-accredited has a clue on how to proceed. Everything we’ve tried makes it deteriorate further!”

The couple could clearly hear the agonized screams of pain in the background. Harry winced in sympathy and Draco gave a stiff nod and terse frown. “Of course, give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Please, sir! Hurry, sir!” Harry could tell by the tone that the woman was wringing her hands and by her outburst, that she was scared to ask, “Can you make it sooner? We’ve tried Stasis charms to no avail… and it’s just getting worse!”

Harry turned from the room as he heard her plead, “We don’t have much time!” and retrieved his lover’s work-robes, ‘Accio’ing a clean set from upstairs and presenting them to the blond as he came storming out of his den. Draco, intent on making haste and ran smack into Harry holding his clothes. He sheepishly took them, shimmying out of his bathrobe and threw it on down on the hall rug. The Auror gulped at the sudden display of flesh, but reigned in his own urges for the sake of the people who relied on his lover’s strength and intelligence to save them.

The ex-Slytherin pulled on the uniform with a grateful peck to the brunet’s cheek (once his head cleared the neckline, of course). “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he adamantly whispered, “I wanted to spend the day with you,” he pouted, “I—“

He was cut off by a coffee and scone-flavoured kiss.

“I know,” Harry answered, “Its fine, Toots. Go do what you’ve got to do!” He kissed him again and raked his hands through the slight snarls in those silky blond locks, combing them until he smoothed his soul-mate’s hair into some semblance of order that his fussy love could deal with having be seen in public. The off-duty Auror sent his beau towards the hearth with an affectionate pat to his rump.

“I’ll be here when you get home, Sweetness,” Harry called towards Draco’s retreating back. “Be safe—just go be your brilliant, genius self!” The blond shot a heart-melting look of love over his shoulder before he threw down the glittering powder that would whisk him away into the chaos that was his job.

Harry smiled fondly, if a bit ruefully.

He had been looking forward to some quality time playing with his lover this morning, but it just wasn’t in the cards (or Trelawney’s crystal balls, for that matter). He heaved a resigned sigh and returned to his breakfast, absently tapping a piece of crisp bacon on the edge of his plate, thinking with amusement that Draco seemed to be mellowing the more months they lived together; not so long ago the pampered Pure Blood would have thrown a hissy-fit at having their hopes dashed and plans ruined.

It appeared that Harry’s own attitude of accepting minor disappointments rather easily was softening the Healer’s mood towards moments when life did not unfold according to his expectations. He snorted softly to himself; perhaps his lover was taking to heart Harry’s cutesy advice to ‘Never sweat the petty stuff (but always pet the sweaty stuff)’?

Draco used to accuse him of not caring as much, but maybe now-- with such an important occupation, some more emotional maturity and relationship security—the blond was realizing what was and wasn’t so important in the grand scheme of things.

_)*(_

As Draco entered the triage room, he was assaulted by the smell of Dark Magic that emanated from the patient. He’d encountered it many times in his career, but so far, it never got any easier—it inevitably took him back to bleak times in his life that he’d rather forget. He was glad it was in smaller concentrations than what he’d experienced at his childhood home when Voldemort (thanks to Harry he could now think the name) and the Death Eaters had usurped The Manor.

He quickly took in the tense atmosphere and the notes that were scribbled on the chart thrust into his hands. Most of it seemed straight-forward, but there were inconsistencies that concerned him; the Newbies had isolated the two main causes but he could tell right away that there were underlying, hidden spells at work here—awful things that no one without his medical training combined with his unique background in The Second War would know…

He immediately cut the first “trip-wire” incantation that if handled incorrectly could have rendered all other care a moot point, causing a grisly but spontaneous demise. It was actually a simple, harmless little-known anti-jinx-- which reminded him of the Muggle movies Harry had introduced him to, where there was a special sequence to dismantling an explosive device, something called a “bomm” (an object with a countdown timer that acted like a ‘Reducto Majoro’ combined with a ‘Bombarda Maxima’ to destroy things in a blast of the Muggle equivalent of Fiendfyre).

He cast his preliminary scans and duplicated the original findings, but a few more obscure in-depth discernments revealed that he had bought them some more time to tackle the more involved hexes and try the necessary counters; they were definitely not “out of the woods” yet.

He reviewed the information again: Male, black, twenty-six years old, found close to Knockturn Alley where the artists and musicians had their cluster of studios at the end of Diagon. His stomach lurched suddenly when he finally read the patient name (and took a good look at his face) and realized it was ‘Dean Thomas’, someone that he had known as a classmate, and a dorm-mate to Harry.

Harry!

He worked extra diligently at that point since he knew his lover would take it very hard to hear of this plight—a pacifist (and someone Snatched and held in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor when the Trio had been caught) shot in the back! In the next moment he uncovered the second wrapping spell (Ok, it was more of a curse than anything! At least uncle Rodolphus’ special “education” had been good for something, he thought grimly).

The Healer vanished one element and then did a “Reducto” of his own, specifically on the evil-intended magic involved.   It was risky, he knew, and made the body jump in an unnatural way when he cast the disarmament. But then it stilled and he was able to clear two more interwoven spells that made it easier to draw out the last, most invisible one. His colleagues watched in awe as a thick yellow-black mist rose and dissipated in a cloud of sulfurous stench.

It—no the victim, the man-- needed a potion now (and not one that many—if any-- of the St. Mungo’s staff knew about). He’d need to whip up an archaic brew he knew was in one of his old potions manuals, bequeathed to him by his godfather. He might even need to dip into his private stores… He didn’t remember each and every step off the top of his head.

“Stasis spells should be effective now,” he put on his most authoritative tone, ignoring the tightening in his throat at having to work on someone he knew. He proved his point to the on-looking staff when he waved his medical DiagnoStick in tandem with his personal wand (and was one-hundred percent successful--Thomas’ form turned frozen and peaceful). “I need to nip back home to get a recipe and possibly some ingredients.”

The ‘Spell-Damage’ team of the day nodded in unison, awaiting the next directions. Draco didn’t disappoint and played to each of their strengths.

“Erickson: Watch over the patient and monitor his vitals—alert me of any change, ‘Patronus’ if possible. Harris: Start dicing some fresh dandelion roots—not stems-- only what grew beneath the surface of the soil. If the lab’s stock room doesn’t have fresh, then put in a rush order, don’t bother with dried. Gather some Mandrake root, Boomslang skin, just a few flakes should suffice. And a handlful of Marigold petals to be crushed in a marble mortar and pestle-- We need both the juice and fiber, we can measure it out later. We may need pickled newt eyes or hearts—I’m not sure, I don’t have this thing memorized, of course-- so grab a jar of each just in case. Robbins: Take half a liter of distilled water, set it to boil and make a general healing base and wait for me to bring the rest back.”

There was a palpable feel of relief in the room as his co-workers and underlings breathed a sigh and felt a new sense of purpose; they steeled their shoulders, eager to comply and complete their assigned tasks.

Three years ago, most had been hesitant to work along-side Malfoy, (knowing first-hand or from just hearing of his reputation during his Hogwarts years and/or the Second War or even simply by the surname he shared with his father) but it at was times like these that had them looking to him for his guidance and vast stores from within a unique mental lexicon of magical knowledge—and feeling comfortable under his confident command.

“I’ll be back in five minutes.” And with that, he made his way to the Floo.

_)*(_

“I’m not really here!” the blond called out into the house as he emerged from the main fireplace. He charged out the porch door towards his personal potion’s lab in the backyard before he could get lost in those questioning green eyes; now was not the time to deliver possibly dire news or get un-professionally distracted. He quickly located the ancient text, grabbed some stuff from his shelves and garden that he needed, and made a mad dash back to the hospital.

An hour later, with the medicinal brew bubbling and the elements added to the point where it needed to simmer for forty-five minutes, Malfoy smudged the sweat and potion-vapor off his brow with the back of his wrist and looked to his crew in gratitude. “Good work everyone. I realize I require one last material for our concoction so I will be back before the final add-and-stir. Again, keep the flame constant and monitor the patient, let me know if anything needs my immediate help.”

Ok, he made that bit up about needing to take more time gathering another component—he could have brought it with him during his first trip.

He actually needed to take a huge dump for the past hour and a half (since he had been denied his usual daily routine) and he’d been holding it while they worked—because, of course, a human life was more important than his bodily comfort-- but now that there was a lull, his guts seemed to agree that enough was enough.

Now that the majority of the danger was calmed, his subconscious allowed the physiological “launch sequence” to commence and he could feel what needed to come out start to demand his full attention once the rush of adrenaline subsided; a colossal amount of crap was descending into his colon and pressing against his clenched pucker.

When he entered the house, intent on making excellent use of the master bath (his most preferred toilet with the heated seat), his casually-flicked ‘Homenum Revelio’ indicated that Harry was already in there. Well, he’d just kick him out and then find his long-sought- after relief. But when he arrived in the bedroom, the door to the loo was shut.

His heart sped up—there was only one reason that his gorgeous guy ever bothered to close himself in! (Even when alone) He was pooping!

His own need temporarily forgotten, Draco’s stomach swooped with glee and penis started to engorge at an astonishing rate; it was a guilty pleasure of his to cast a one-way transparency charm on the locked barrier in order to spy on him. He reveled in watching Harry’s facial expressions while he moved his bowels-- The way his black eye-brows scrunched, the way his face reddened when he bore down extra hard, the grunting and puffing as he wriggled and shifted around trying to get it all out… sometimes the farts that were forced out were loud enough to hear from the next room.

It was too adorable (and more than a bit hot)!

But, when he whispered the incantation, he got a most unexpected view. Draco was suddenly accosted with the image of Harry’s spread legs, glistening lubed-up hole, and obviously aroused genitalia less than a meter away! (Draco’s mouth dropped open and had to stop himself from gasping aloud.) The delectable image of his lover on his back, lying upon the bathmat and rubbing small circles around his greased ring made his knees weak and his erection fill its final fraction.

Then, what the bloody hell was he doing?

The masturbating brunet was propped up on his left elbow, watching himself in the full-length mirror that adorned the back of the bathroom door (It took the blond a second to realize the heavily-hooded green eyes were focused on his own business and not on the creepy voyeur perving on him).

Seconds later, the wanton brunet was fumbling with something by his side, and then brought a piece of twisted paper, sodden with what looked like the blond’s hand-lotion to his opening and started stuffing it in his rectum! Draco nearly shrieked in indignation that his pricey, imported-from-Milan moisturizer was being used in such a manner (did he even know how many Galleons that cost?!) but then decided in the next moment he didn’t care, as he was reduced to drooling over the image of Harry employing it for anal stimulation.

(And apparently enjoying the fragrance of it as well, moaning ‘Draaaaco…’ when he sniffed at the rim of the little pot; he could not fault him that indulgence, especially since it called him to mind while the sexy brunet lost himself in bliss.)

Harry brought another sloppy lump to his backside and fed that one in too. That was when Draco noticed the small stack of paper napkins next to him (no doubt nicked from their kitchen’s junk drawer that held all the left-over take-away accoutrements they saved but never seemed to use-- except for the disposable chop-sticks he’d fashioned into a trellis for his seedlings). Draco’s tumescence twitched and he had to press a palm to it.

After the third and fourth soggy blob was swallowed behind his cute little winking sphincter, Draco gaped again as Harry produced their turkey-baster from behind his head. He poked the tip in and plunged the bulb; the blond held his breath as his beau did it a couple of times, and then relaxed his anus, gently blowing out the faux flatulence. It looked as if he was attempting to relieve the pressure of the air without losing the pulpy load he’d packed into his poop-chute.

The ambivalence in the physical sensations intrigued Draco. The releasing of some--but not all-- was not easy, he knew from personal experience… but was also acutely aware it was highly titillating; the precum leaking from his boyfriend’s purpled cock (and the steady trickle in his own pants) was a testament to that! The horny Healer watched in fascination as this kinky procedure was repeated several times (and nearly groaned whenever the wetness would sputter and splatter little drips of the pale yellow cream when an audible fart rattled out).

Eventually, Harry upped the stakes once again and allowed the tip of the white, manufactured log breach his opening, only to pinch and retract it back with his muscles. At times, he let it slip too far and would poke it back in with his fingers. Draco was transfixed by the wanton tableau his boyfriend was unwittingly gracing him with and had him shivering in sympathetic arousal.

With morbid curiosity, the blond noted that Harry was shifting the little rug he lay on so that the edge ended half-way up his buttocks and the tile floor was directly under the path his ‘poo’ would come out; when the brunet was in position to spare making a mess on the cloth, he took a deep breath and blew it out—still staring intently at the mirror reflecting the manipulations of his ring.

The Auror’s anus opened slowly, and this time he let the mass slide out of its own accord, past the point of no return; the jumbled mush of slimy fibers gained momentum and slithered between his spread cheeks and forward across the floor towards the door. Harry moaned so deliciously, so sensually that Draco accidently squeezed his own cock a bit too strongly and surprised himself as pulse after pulse of hot sticky jizz soaked his boxer-briefs! (In his lust-induced haze, he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the fact he’d creamed himself with so little manual stimulation!)

When the length leaving Harry’s body turned from white to streaked with brown, ending with a chunk completely composed of crap, the masturbating man grabbed his shaft and fountained arcs of creamy semen into the air with a keening howl. (Draco was grateful his gulping for air was drowned out by Harry’s whining and wheezing of, “sooooo good, fuck, that’s so good!” through his waves of pleasure-- and he couldn’t have agreed more).

And now that the blond’s body was relaxed of its tension, he felt a small, soft smear of shit leaking between his clenched cheeks. He hurried down the stairs, cringing slightly at the dirty sensation of his soiled shorts and made it to the guest W.C. off the sitting-room just in time to rip them down and plunk down on the seat as the dam burst on his control and feces flowed freely from his over-wrought intestines.

He sagged in relief, and when he was able, set about to cleaning himself up (sighing heavily as he had to ‘Incendio’ yet another pair of undies). He crept quietly out to the garden to pick the mint leaf needed for the end-test of Thomas’ medicinal potion and returned to his hospital wing.

He proceeded to the institution’s potion’s lab and conducted the last steps, explaining his method to the crew that had tended the brew in his absence. Then, he sent Erickson ahead to ‘Rennervate’ the former-Gryffindor so the man had a few minutes to adjust and acclimate to consciousness while they bottled out proportionate doses to be administered every forty-five minutes for the next day and a half.

_)*(_

“Potter!” Draco yelped before he could regain his composure over his surprise at finding Harry and Weasley in his patient’s room.

He quickly discerned they were there on official business, as they were donning their full Auror regalia, but his first reaction had been due to that he knew Harry had the day off-- and was therefore not expecting the law enforcement officials assigned to the case of a serious criminal attack to be these particular two. All the occupants in the room turned to see the discombobulated Healer, with vials in hand, stop by the door with confusion written all over his face. The brunet and redhead simply nodded, their faces betraying no emotion.

Dean Thomas was propped up on pillows, looking peaky, but doing fairly well for the ordeal he’d just been through. Draco quickly set the potion aside and asked the standard questions used to establish a baseline of his general condition. Thomas seemed to be more or less all right physically, but he appeared nervous and jittery.

While he gave his patient the first portion of potion, he could hear his boyfriend and work-partner shuffling around behind him, whispering in an urgent cadence amongst themselves; Dean’s expression turned even more anxious. “Mr. Thomas,” Draco began, assuming the cause of his stress, “I assure you, the security of this hospital is top-notch. Your safety is taken very seriously and it is policy to have a guard posted outside your door in situations such as this.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open and then shook his head. “No, I’m sure that’s true… I’m just more worried about what might happen inside this room… I’m not sure I could handle it if I got hit by a stray hex from one of you.”

Draco furrowed his brow as his charge leaned around him and raised his voice, “Oi! You two! Please don’t start a fight with Malfoy… He saved my life! Just… please… try and get along. He doesn’t seem like the same guy we knew in school.” He gave a sheepish look up at the Healer, begging forgiveness at bringing up the memory of the prat he’d been in the past. He sounded desperate, frantic, like he couldn’t deal with a duel or even insults hurled between his old friends and the new-found gratitude he held for the man that had just given him a second chance at life. “He really helped me today… They told me they couldn’t have cured me without him.”

Ron cleared his throat and replied diplomatically, “I… erm… don’t doubt that. He’s an extremely knowledgeable and effective Healer.” Dean looked stunned; he couldn’t believe that his hot-tempered friend just said something nice about Draco Malfoy!

“Yes,” Harry piped up, “We’ve seen his work and are constantly impressed by it.”

Their fellow Gryffindor flopped back on his pillows. “What was in that medicine? I feel like I’ve slipped into some bizzaro alternate universe!”

“We were all very much changed by the War, Dean,” Harry offered by way of explanation. “None of us are who we were when we were eleven.”

“Over the past several years we’ve worked together on occasion and have established a decent professional relationship,” Ron added. He stopped there, knowing he should shut up (Hermione’s voice had sounded in the back of his head as his conscience) before he said something stupid and outed his friends (In fact, the ‘Vow-of-Silence’ they’d all took pretty much insured it).

Dean switched his gaze to Draco, who simply nodded and replied, “If you are feeling up to it, I’m sure Aurors Potter and Weasley would like to question you on the details of the attack. I seem to recall they are like lions with a bone when there is a mystery to be solved. I have no doubt they will get to the bottom of it by the time you are ready to be released. I’ll leave you in their competent hands and be back in half an hour to check on your progress.” He turned to Harry and Ron on his way out, “Gentlemen, please make sure he doesn’t get overly agitated or tired. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Dean blew out a sigh of relief and disbelief. “Blimey! I’m gone for five years on a painting fellowship in France and the world over here turns upside down!” Draco heard the all the ex-dorm-mates chuckle and then start talking about the sequence of events, suspects and motives. He made his way to his home-away-from-home study and started piecing together the chart notes for the obligatory detailed report.

_)*(_

Not fifteen minutes later, Harry’s mind was wandering and unable to focus on the fact gathering session (luckily, Ron was the one taking notes).

His initial shock and adrenaline-rush at the news their old friend had been his boyfriend’s medical emergency of the day (and thankfulness that the Head Auror had called them in to cover the case because he knew their personal motivation would not let them rest until they brought the assailant to justice) and the unexpected thrill of seeing Draco in all is heroic occupation’s glory once the life-threatening danger had passed…

He couldn’t concentrate and was half-hard.

Not when he could hear his lover’s stern, all-business-like voice reverberating in his brain, saying seemingly innocuous things-- that his dirty mind couldn’t help but convert into steamy ideas: ‘lions with a bone’, ‘get to the bottom of it’, ‘by the time you are ready to be released’, and‘competent hands’. It didn’t matter that he’d just had a spine-tingling orgasm earlier (right before he got the summons to St. Mungo’s, actually).

No, it seemed it only served to stimulate his appetite further, and, as Draco had so alluringly put it, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

He needed him all right. (Well, at least a brief conversation to let him know he was an amazing Healer and that his investigation might make him get home rather late. And perhaps sneak in a great snog.) Harry excused himself, telling them the vague reason of needing to ask Healer Malfoy a question. As he strode down the corridor, he cast a ‘Notice-Me-Not’ charm on himself and slipped into his boyfriend’s private work-space.

Draco was up on his feet and by his side in a flash. Harry wasn’t even able to get one word out before the blond had shot an ‘Imperturbable’ ward at his door and shoved the brunet so that his chest hit hard against the surface of the parchment-littered desk, the force of it knocked the air out of his lungs with a great gush; the growl in his ear sent shivers down his bent-over spine “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Auror Potter.”

“Wha--?” he wheezed. What had he done that was so horrible? He didn’t think he’d said or done anything that would give away the secret of their relationship.

“Oh… I don’t know… let me think…” Draco purred against the back of his neck in obvious mock-contemplation as he fumbled with pulling up the hem of the Auror’s uniform up over his bum and past his waist (both of them delighting in the fact he hadn’t worn anything underneath). “Ah, yes,” he drawled while kicking apart Harry’s work-boots one at a time with his right foot. “There is the small matter of you pleasuring yourself while I was away, working hard to save the life of your friend… You’ve been quite the little pervert, playing with your pucker and prick like that…” Harry could hear the sexy sneer in that low voice as it descended, indicating his lover was settling down on his haunches.

It was difficult for Harry to form a coherent rebuttal; there was a forearm pinning the small of his back down against the wooden surface, hot breath gusting over his now-exposed glutes, and an exciting heat stirring his loins at being caught unaware and being dominated in such an unusual, unpredictable fashion.

Wait, what? How did Draco know he’d jerked-off earlier?

And, as if Draco had used a ‘Legilimens’, he got his answer. “I saw you, Potter!” he whispered furiously.   Now satisfied that Harry wouldn’t move from his submissive pose, the “restraints” on him were gone and two palms caressed his ass-cheeks, spreading them open and baring his butt-hole to view. The blond swiped a playful lick from his balls all the way up his crack to the top of his buttocks-- and then back down, focusing on his dusky hole.

“How… *ah!*…did *gasp*… you *nnghh*… know that?!” Harry stammered out between the motions of the tongue-assault against his most sensitive areas.

He heard the blond chuckle and reply (the cocky rumble in his voice all-too-clear), “The ‘One-Way Transparency’ spell? Imagine my surprise at coming home to find the master bathroom being used in such a way…”

Harry inwardly groaned—WHY did he ever teach that to the former-Slytherin?! (Oh yeah. He’d been all full of himself the day they taught that in Auror-training, an incantation they’d developed for surveillance and Mind-Healer consultations in interrogation rooms— although it was supposed to remain a confidential tool within the department, he’d wanted to show off that he knew something the smug Pure Blood did not… and now it had turned around to bite him on the ass!)

And now it seemed, quite literally; the man molesting his rear-end had introduced a few nips of teeth into his repertoire on the thick muscles of the backs of his thighs and posterior, while still interspersing his ministrations with tantalizing tongueing. Harry moaned in taboo titillation and the tendrils of flammable lust that were coursing in his veins; the intense flames that were causing his body to respond in a way that signaled another orgasm impending, despite having had one so recently.

“You used my expensive hand-lotion to satisfy your dirty little desires, you bad boy,” Draco purred, his hot breath puffing over the wettened skin, “I can smell it on you… on your delicious, deviant derriere.” Harry groaned again, slightly embarrassed that his boyfriend had witnessed his very private moment of play—but also a bit turned on by it (especially since it seemed to have transformed his lover into a libidinous animal). The oral ministrations to his back-side were making his knees weak.

“I—I--,” Harry stuttered. He was unsure if Draco wanted an apology or was just content to keep administering exquisite torment to him. “S-stop! Some…one… might come!”

The blond chuckled, “I’m hoping it will be both of us…” Harry rolled his eyes-- half in the cheesy innuendo to his fear of getting caught by a colleague of Draco’s and half in unbridled ecstasy. “You also defiled a specific kitchen utensil, Mr. Potter,” he heard in an amused sensual snarl behind him; his eyes bugged out the next second as the lips at his loosened, convulsing sphincter tightened and blew breath into him!

Holy shit! “Draco!” he screeched, clamping his ring as tightly shut as it could go; he couldn’t let That go right in his lover’s face! (He wouldn’t if he could help it!) The ballooning, bubbled sensation in his colon was causing a losing battle of pressure against his pucker. “Fuck, Draco! Move your face! Now!”

All he heard was a sinister snigger from down where the blond was kneeling and then felt two thumbs pry his cheeks apart, inevitably spreading his ass-lips past the point of endurance and the air came whistling out; Harry winced, knowing he’d just broken wind in his lover’s face. (Well, damn it! If that’s what he was after, he just got it! Too bad for him if he didn’t like the results!)

And then there was that soft snicker again and a wand-tip unceremoniously shoved up his bum. He relished the familiar feel of the “lech” spells rolling around his rectum—until it became obvious that there was an over-abundance of the lube part of the charm when it uncontrollably, squidgedly seeped and dripped out his yearning hole and down his perineum and the backs of his balls. “Draco!” he screeched again (in an entirely manly manner, mind you).

His protests were immediately quieted when the wand was replaced with something much larger, thicker, warmer-- yet no less stiff and springy than Hawthorne. They both moaned as the joining of their bodies sent thrills of lust to zap every nerve-ending they both possessed. Draco wasted no time and ground his manhood into the eagerly awaiting orifice—not withdrawing, not pistoning—just a sensual rotation of a pelvis grinding against another.

Just as Harry was about to break down and beg to be pounded into, there started a long, smooth slide of the shaft outward.

But it was too slow…

He whined and tried thrust back, to impale himself on his boyfriend’s yearning pole—but was forcefully stilled by two determined hands on his hips, pressing them into the hard wood of the desk. The slip started anew and it was wonderfully agonizing. He felt every ridge and vein as each millimeter caressed his innards—and then the hot, throbbing, wet weight of that velvety head flop and rest against his sac.

He was practically frantic to get the feel of it again, rising up on the balls of his feet, wriggling his lower half wantonly. He was rewarded with sensual slide up and down his glistening crack. After what seemed to be an eternity of teasing, he was tortured by a smooth, slow thrust inward and longer, un-moving stay in his man-snatch. It wasn’t until then that the brunet detective cottoned-on to the fact the blond was re-creating the sensation of what he’d been doing earlier, playing with the feel of pooping.

By the time Draco had pulled out and let his erection flop onto his testicles again—and let it rest there, soggily, until the brunet was whining and leaking copious amounts of precum—mimicking the feel of feces weighing on his genitals, Harry was mad with desire. He was insane with the need to get off, and wanted his partner to be excited as he was.

Little did he know, all his desperate movements and squirms were crumbling the blond’s resolve-- Fuck, how he wanted to just slam into him! But he braced himself with patience, remembering how hard the brunet had gotten off with a “slow and steady, wins the race” approach; after what he’d witnessed earlier that afternoon in the loo, he had the most private of ammunition to take him to the heights of Nirvana and continued his silky, delicate style of love-making.

Over the years, the silver-eyed snake had had many-a-lustful thought of taking the man over his desk at the hospital—and now it was actually happening! Plus, he loved how crazy and craving he was making his lover—right here, right now in his office. There was nothing better than living out a fantasy, he decided.

Finally, the Healer couldn’t hold back any more and stabbed harshly, jabbing Harry’s prostate so hard he flopped and banged his temple against the wooden surface below him; the stars the Auoror saw were doubled from both impacts (there was no doubt a bruise would blossom on his brow, but he couldn’t be too arsed to care about it at the moment). Harry was mewling and squealing in counterpoint to Draco’s guttural grunts behind him and they were both glad for the silencing and locking wards that were firmly in place.

“What did you do, Baby? Right there at the end of your wank when you messed and had to find release?” the blond ground out, trying to keep from climaxing before his partner.

Harry panted out between moans, confessing immediately, “I… touched… myself!” He was so turned on he feared he might orgasm untouched.

“Do it now!” the Healer demanded. As soon as Harry curled his fingers around his throbbing cock, he came with a howl, splattering the front of the desk with his seed; Draco groaned through his own explosion and shuddered to a stop, resting on his lover’s back.

After regaining their breath and recovering somewhat, Draco glanced at the clock and cringed, “Shit! I was supposed to be back in there ten minutes ago!” He pulled out of his lover’s body with a sloppy pop and set about to combing his hair with his fingers and preening the wrinkles out of his uniform. He wordlessly gestured at Harry, waving his hands up and down the length of his body, silently suggesting he take a few more attempts at fixing his attire before emerging from the office and left.

Although his molten-mercury eyes were still a bit over-bright and pale cheeks a little flushed, the brunet marveled at how quickly composed and perfectly put-together his soul-mate could look after such mind-shattering sex (How did he do that?! Harry always looked positively feral post-shag!) He tried, he really did, but there was not much he could do to make it any better—he figured that at least he always looked a bit rough and wind-blown (like he’d just got done riding a broom-stick, ha-ha), so it wouldn’t be too noticeable.

When Harry slunk back into the hospital room a couple minutes later, oblivious to the appearance of his rumpled robes and a purple swelling on his forehead, he found Draco busying himself with writing on the medical chart and two sets of former-Gryffindor eyes suddenly glaring at him. Top detective Weasley grimaced and huffed a sigh towards the ceiling; the deep chocolate stare from the bed was accusatory.

“Harry! You promised!” Dean hissed, sitting up straighter. The brunet was clueless—what had changed? He cast a floundering look to his lover, and saw him visibly stiffen, but continued to ignore the others in favour of his notes, affecting an air of quiet dignity. “You fought again,” their former dorm-mate admonished angrily at Harry who was gaping at him. “You forget I had years of watching you getting all worked up over Malfoy—and he always got a rise out of you. Anyone can take one look at you two right now and see that you’ve just gone at it again!”

Ron made a strangled sound in his throat (something like a cross between laughter and disgust), and turned a delicate shade of green as he bolted for the door, mumbling something about needing air.

“Ah… erm… about that…” Harry gave a guilty glance towards Draco who looked somehow nervous and exasperated at the same time, but managed a terse nod. “Dean, you can’t tell anybody, but there’s something you should know…”

)*(

Author’s Note:

Well, that one also grew more of a surrounding story unexpectedly. Originally, it was supposed to be all about Harry playing and exploring on his own, butt it seems that our favorite blond really insisted he get laid—and what Draco wants, Draco gets!

Hope you enjoyed that part… Thanks for reading!
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Crap! #2