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Burning For Gold	By : clover71 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6148 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books and movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: Thank you to artemys, Akira_Kushrenada_Merquize and A.L. Blackwell for their reviews. This part has BDSM, or maybe just BD, specifically wax play. I'm not really familiar with writing BDSM scene so please don't expect much. If you're uncomfortable with it, you may skip scene 12. Please review, would love to hear everyone's opinion.

Burning For Gold 3/5, a draco/harry fan fiction by clover71 [LiveJournal username]

Rating: MA/ NC-17, Warning: BDSM (specifically wax play), post-war

... continued

11 – these memories of you

word prompt: fantasy

It was like a drug that Draco constantly craved for. There was always this burning ache inside of him, a need to always feel Harry close. The constant hunger for Harry's touch increased every day and Harry… he um, he never failed to give.

Sometimes, an absurd idea would drill into Draco's brain, like maybe Hermione had made Harry go through an Unbreakable Vow or something, made Harry cite an oath that he would keep the bond until Draco was cured. The mere thought of Harry being forced to do this stabbed at Draco's heart.

Sex had been great. It eased the agonizing pang that Draco often felt in his chest, eased the sting in his entrails. Like a drug, indeed. Draco needed to have sex with Harry almost all the time now. And Harry… Harry had always been there to feed his urges.

A stray thought brushed his mind. What if… what if Harry got tired of helping him?

Draco shook his head, thought, 'no, Harry wouldn't', and pushed away the shadows of fear and insecurities that came crawling into his psyche, replacing it with images of the past three days and nights, the memories of Harry's warmth, of Harry's solid naked body pressed against his own.

Damn, he wanted Harry now, wanted to feel Harry's fingers burn a trail across his skin, wanted to shiver under Harry's tongue, wanted Harry's lips to press kisses all over his body.

Harry had been gone since morning, said he had to pick up some supplies for the pub. The emptiness that swelled within Draco had started to become unbearable and it was hard to breathe somehow.

Focusing on Mel was a challenge. Draco's vision had gone blurry and it was as if the room was spinning and spinning and there was this sound ringing in his ears.

"Are you okay?" Mel's hand felt oddly cold on Draco's forearm.

"Y-yeah." It was a lie and Draco had a notion that Mel didn't believe him. She tilted her head, her gaze scrutinizing.

"You look pale, white as a sheet." The lines that formed between Mel's brows made her look sincerely worried and this only drove Draco to feel even more uncomfortable.

"Actually, I…" 'Lie, lie, lie.' Draco tried to come up with a lie, an excuse to get a break – at least until Harry got back. "I think I'm coming down with something. My head hurts a bit."

Mel's face softened. "Why don't you take a break? At least for an hour. It's Thursday anyway, so we're not really expecting a lot of customers and this hour is usually slow" was what she suggested and Draco conceded without hesitation.

The moment Draco got into his flat and closed the door behind him, his trembling fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his trousers as if what he had to do— wanted to do was a matter of life and death. He dropped on his couch unceremoniously, pushed the trousers down to his hip, pulled his half hard penis out of his boxers and started stroking desperately.

With his eyes shut, images of Harry began to fill his head. Of Harry going down on him. Of Harry deliciously naked above him. Of Harry with his jaw clenched, lower lip wedged between his teeth, eyes shut, muscles on his neck and shoulders visibly tight, sweat glistening over miles and miles of pale, smooth skin.

"Fuck." The cuss slipped out of Draco's mouth, his hand curling tighter around his now fully hard, throbbing cock. "Fuck!" he said a bit louder when he felt the heat pooling his lower belly, felt the tight squeeze in his balls. He was close. The sound tearing from his throat echoed in his ears. He could feel the burn from his groin surging throughout his body, his toes curling inside his leather shoes. Then he was coming, white hot burst of sparks flashed behind his closed eyelids, warmth spilling on his hand.

"Couldn't wait 'til I get back, huh?"

Draco's eyes snapped open and he felt his entire body flush when he saw Harry standing on the doorway.

12 – a warning sign of regression

word prompt: danger

"Are you sure you want to do this?" It wasn't that Harry was scared. Or maybe he was. He and Draco had done all sorts of… of whatever and Harry hadn't really expected he would be this sexually adventurous but… but…

This new um… kink or whatever you call it that Draco had in mind was a little bit out of character for Harry. Or hell, maybe even for Draco himself.

"Yes" was Draco's curt response. And, as an afterthought perhaps, added, "Please."

Harry tried to block all those logic that persistently prodded at his hindbrain. Thinking too much was never a good thing during sex. And fuck, he couldn't even think straight anymore.

The steel was cold against his sweaty palms, the edges digging into his skin. Harry gripped the handcuff tighter, reminding himself that this was real. That this was really, really happening.

Carefully, he slid one round metal around Draco's wrist and heard the soft click of the lock. He slipped the opposite end of the handcuff around one of the headboard's decorative bars then hooked it on Draco's other wrist.

This was it. Harry's teeth sank in his lower lip. He stripped of layers and layers of awkwardness and hesitancy before slipping into this… this role he had to play.

"Tell me what you—" he started, voice a little shaky. He cleared his throat and let his eyelids shut for a while before snapping them open once more. His flesh burned red hot. The need to make Draco submit to his control hummed against his skin. He gazed down at Draco and in a voice he hardly recognised was his own, said, "Tell me what you think I should do to you, Malfoy."

Something descended upon Draco, his eyes had turned darker and a mask of lasciviousness spread across his face.

"You…" The momentary pause sent a new thrill – something arousing that vibrated in the air. "You. Should. Punish me" was what came out of Draco's mouth, each word punctuated and it made Draco sound like an entirely different person – someone desperate, someone with a painful need.

"You have been bad." Harry found it easier to slip into this different character now. But he wasn't sure how long it would last.

"Y-yessss." Draco almost hissed the word and he writhed under Harry's touch.

Harry's palm glided over Draco's chest reverently, tracing the perfect contours with his fingertips. "You've been… very, very bad." He brushed his thumb over a nipple, earning a low, sensual moan from the man beneath him. "I'm going to teach you a lesson you wouldn't forget."

"Pleeeeassse." Draco breathed out as if he was in torment. The way the muscles in his neck tensed, the way his abdomen was sucked in made Harry drop the barriers that held every remaining ounce of hesitation, finally letting go of his inhibitions.

This wasn't the first time they had played this… this game. But they didn't do this often either.

Harry sat up on his legs and watched the glow of the candles around them dance against Draco's face. It was mesmerizing in many ways.

"Turn around," he said demandingly, his tone held every thread of control. Draco shifted to lie on his stomach. The metal chain of the handcuffs twisted around the bar making the headboard shake precariously.

Harry's hands glided along Draco's sides all the way down to Draco's hips. Then he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Draco's shorts, slipping it off of Draco in slow, calculated movement, revealing the black leather thong that hugged around Draco's hips.

The sight of Draco's arse – cheeks pale, tight and rounded – made Harry's mouth go dry. He had to swallow the ball of air that formed in his throat. He could feel Draco shivering, could sense the anticipation that drifted off of the blond-haired man that laid before him.

Unhurriedly, Harry pulled the black scarf that hung on the headboard and wrapped it snuggly around Draco's head and over his eyes.

Once he had Draco blindfolded and had Draco's ankles bound with a rope, Harry drew a deep, long breath. His hands worked reverently in spreading mineral oil from the heaps of Draco's shoulders all the way down the curves of Draco's back, palms feeling the heat rising out of the other man.

With a wave of his hand and a non-verbal summoning charm (reciting 'Accio' in his head), he watched the candle – yellow and thick and covered in melted wax – rise in the air and floated smoothly toward him.

When Harry had a grip on the candle, he felt somehow in control, like he had the power to make Draco submit, to make Draco beg and beg and plea and—

"This. This should remind you what happens to bad boys like you" were the words that tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he held the candle over Draco's back, tilted it and watched the melted wax dribble on Draco's shoulder blades.

Draco muttered a restrained, "Ow," when the liquid came in contact with his skin and the sound pushed Harry to give Draco more. More because Draco wanted it. More because Draco asked for it. More because Draco deserved it. More because Harry could, Harry would, Harry wanted this, too.

His eyes stung as he watched the melted wax dribble over Draco's back in steady streams without blinking. Rivulets of the thick liquid glided across the dip of Draco's spine before settling on a spot to harden. Soon, the surface of Draco's skin had turned an angry red around the hardening wax that now covered almost half of Draco's back.

It was such a beautiful sight. An art of pain and perfection, Harry thought. Other colors might make it even prettier than it was now.

Harry reached out to place the candle back on the table and grabbed another – red and thin and still long. He didn't bother with a summoning charm this time because his whole body pulsed with the need to see more of the covered wax spread artfully all over Draco like abstract painting.

"So, so pretty," Harry murmured under his breath, tilting the red candle and watched the paler shade of the hot liquid drip on the small of Draco's back, mixing with the yellow ones that had already formed asymmetrical patterns over miles and miles of pale skin.

An hour – maybe two – had passed and wax of various colors almost covered the entirety of Draco's dorsum and Harry felt fucking pleased and proud and—

'Fuck.'

Guilt suddenly churned at the back of his mind. What was he doing? What in the fuck was he doing?

"Draco?" His voice now quivered with worry. He could see Draco's shoulders moving as if breathing had become difficult for him. "Are you okay?"

The slight bob of Draco's head was the first thing Harry noticed followed by a faint, almost inaudible 'I'm fine' but Harry still didn't move.

This was sick. He shouldn't have agreed to this game, shouldn't have been drawn into his role, shouldn't—

"Harry?" Draco's head was tilted slightly enough to peer up at Harry. "Go on."

No. Harry tried to convince himself that this had to stop. But there was Draco, eyes filled with expectation, with longing and Harry – he just couldn't say 'no'. He nodded once in response, hesitation weighed heavily in his chest. He grabbed the paddle from the floor, wide and heavy and looked utterly menacing.

This is mad. Harry felt the need to remind Draco, said, "Don't forget the safe word. Anytime you feel—"

"Potter." Draco spoke with purpose, their roles reversed for a minute. Then Draco melted back into the mattress, buried his face back into the pillow and started pleading. "Please."

Harry couldn't help but think, 'shit, shit, shit' as he lifted the paddle, his hand curled firmly around the handle in a grip that could've strangled the poor thing to death if it were alive. He shed off the cloak of guilt and swung the paddle, watched the flat wooden surface come in contact with the pale flesh of Draco's bum with a resounding whack.

The skin that stretched across Draco's arse soon turned a shade of scarlet and Harry thought the color looked perfect with the black thongs. And he wanted to see how they would look with a darker tinge so he drew the paddle back and smack Draco's bottom again and again and again, enjoying the way the bum cheeks wiggled with every strike.

With a bit more force, he struck on the same spot twice more until he heard Draco groan – low and unnerving. Harry's arm paused in mid air, hesitation gripping his conscious thoughts.

Then he heard it. "Locket." It was barely audible and strained but the words were coherent enough.

The safe word bowled Harry over as if a bucketful of icy cold water had been poured on his head. He tossed the paddle aside and it bounced lethargically on the bed before sliding down to the floor.

"Oh shit." Harry dropped the pretense and cringed internally from the guilt that clawed at his skin. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," he chanted, his hands hovering above Draco's body, uncertain which part he should touch or if it would be best to leave the battered flesh alone.

Draco mumbled, "'S okay," faintly while pulling on the restraints. It was then Harry noticed the angry marks around Draco's wrists.

"Oh shit, Draco, I'm so, so sorry" were the words that instantly flew out of Harry's mouth. "I uh… I think I got too carried away," he said, his eyes raking over Draco's body.

Wax of every color – yellow and red and blue and green – had hardened all over the expanse of Draco's back. It created a tangible picture of what Harry had done.

His hand trembled as he reached out to peel off the wax, careful and mindful of how Draco reacted every time. Draco didn't let out a single peep but the muscles on his arse and shoulders clenched while Harry worked on removing the rest of the stuff, glad that he applied a generous layer of mineral oil on Draco's back before they started and this made the job easier.

"You okay?" he said in almost a whisper and was partly relieved when Draco nodded.

Harry began to chant the healing spell but Draco stopped him, said, "Don't, Harry. Please. I nee—need this."

The next best thing Harry could think of was to press a kiss on the back of Draco's head and between Draco's shoulder blades. He released Draco's wrists and ankles, slid on the bed beside Draco and pulled Draco close, his arm curved around Draco's shoulder, one hand lazily carding through Draco's hair.

'Never again,' Harry thought. This would be the last time they would play this sick, dangerous little game.

13 – a little more than a better history word prompt: never

"So…" Harry leaned on his forearms on the counter, the faint light over the bar reflecting against the surface of his glasses. "Since Tyler will be back today, maybe you can take the day off and go somewhere with me?" His words were laced with hesitation and Draco wondered if Harry was up to something.

Then it hit him. Tyler was coming back so… so Harry might no longer need Draco to fill in for the bartender. Was Harry going to sack him?

Thoughts thundered in his head like a hundred hooves running around in circles and he felt himself sway a little. Something warm grasped at his forearm. Draco had to blink to get rid of the haze that covered his eyes to realise that Harry had grabbed him and half of Harry's body was splayed over the counter

"You okay?" Harry sounded genuinely worried and Draco relished the feeling that swelled in his chest.

"Yeah. Just. Tired, I guess" was the best lie that Draco could come up with. "I think I could use a break so… yeah. I'd love to go with you."

They spent most of the day at The Regent's Park, where Harry took Draco on one of those boat rides. It was calming somehow, just floating on the surface of the tranquil water with the mid-autumn air nipping gently at Draco's exposed skin.

"You look tons better now than the first day you walked into the pub," Harry said, pulling the oars in and securing it on the boat's side.

The boat rocked a little when Draco shifted on the wooden seat to face Harry. "You think so?"

A hint of pinkish red colored Harry's cheeks. "Yeah." Draco could tell Harry was doing his best to sound nonchalant when he said, "I mean, look at you. Your face isn't as pale as it was and you um… you seem to glow everyday. You actually look good."

Draco could feel his cheeks burning. His hands almost flew to his face in a futile attempt to hide what he was sure was the most ridiculous blush anyone could have but instead… instead, he tucked them on his lap and started wringing his fingers.

'Stupid, stupid blush' were the words that skipped around Draco's head. 'Stupid, stupid me.' His thoughts were interrupted when he a warm hand enveloped his intertwined ones, making him snap his head up and meet the enthralling green depths of Harry's gaze.

"You okay? You hungry?" Harry's head was tilted and he looked a little worried – maybe?

The warmth from Harry's touch seeped right through Draco's skin, spreading all the way up his arms in frissons, making Draco shiver and wanting more. But… but he couldn't have that right now. Not right here.

Draco was able to say, "I'm… I'm alright. Not really hungry, but I'd love to have some of the muggle food you keep bragging about," in what he hoped was a teasing tone.

The look that Harry gave him was enough sign that Harry sensed the slip of uneasiness in Draco's voice, but Harry didn't say anything about it, 'thank goodness'. His lips curve up in a smile. "I know just the place," he said then grabbed the oars and started paddling.

They didn't really go too far. The Boathouse Café was just near the edge of the boating area, but it has a patio that overlooks the waterfront and it gave such a relaxing ambiance.

They spent the hour dining on what Harry had called Chicken Caesar salad and salami pizza and pasta with white sauce while catching up on the last five years.

Draco had told Harry about how he landed a job as an auror and how he got suspended and Harry had this soft look in his eyes when he said, "I'm sorry."

"Oh no. Don't be" was Draco's quick return. "It wasn't like… it wasn't like it was your fault or anything. It just happened and I… I couldn't explain it at the time so…" Draco felt stupid not knowing exactly what to say. It was sort of strange that Harry did that to him, made him feel so conscious with every word that slipped out of his mouth and he wasn't sure if this damn fixation had anything to do with it or… or something else.

"Hey. Don't give me that face." Harry peered through his glasses, the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and Draco just wanted to kiss him. "Why don't we go grab some ice cream and I'll take you some place pretty?"

Harry's enthusiasm was contagious – too contagious that Draco could feel it thrumming under his skin.

With a scoop of strawberry ice cream for Harry and vanilla with almond bits for Draco, they made their way to Primrose Hill. The place was simply breathtaking. It had a clear view of Central London, dried grass stretched for miles and miles and trees with dried branches stood proud every few meters, golden leaves piled around the base of the trunks.

They settled under one particularly larger tree, leaves crunching beneath their arses. Thick, long branches stretched toward the heavens as if it was worshipping some benign deity.

Draco did his best not to glance Harry's way. He could see the other man's tongue darting to lick on his frozen dessert through the corner of his eye and it was doing things to Draco – inappropriate things. But Draco couldn't help it. His head snapped over to Harry just in time to see a speck of pink cream sitting on one end of Harry's lips.

"You have some…" Draco started saying, his hand moved on his own accord and settled over Harry's chin, thumb stretching to wipe the spot at the same time Harry's tongue darted out to lick it. When the pale pink and wet flesh inadvertently connected with Draco's finger, thrill shot throughout Draco's body, whipping through him like some force, his blood rushing all the way down to his um… groin area.

He didn’t' pull back though. His hand remained motionless on Harry's cheek, fighting the temptation to slide over to the back of Harry's neck then pull Harry close and kiss him senseless. But… but… They were in a public place and Draco didn't know if that was okay.

"Do you, um…" It was Harry who broke the silence that fell between them. "Do you want to go back to your flat or mine or—"

"No." Draco cut Harry off and was surprised at the insistence in his own voice. It wasn't deliberate but the need was coursing through him in painful waves right now and he wanted to feel Harry touch him all over, wanted to feel Harry inside him. This couldn't wait.

"Okay," Harry squeaked, his voice so small, and Harry yelped when Draco jumped to his feet then yanked Harry up with him.

They found a public loo somewhere at the edge of Primrose Hill and strangely deserted save for two men snogging at the corner. The couple didn't seem to pay them any heed.

"Maybe you'd like to do that some place else," Harry said in a menacing tone, which made both men jump apart. One of them seemed ready to retaliate but Draco joined Harry in throwing them a deathly glare. Both men nodded and dashed out of the loo and Harry didn't waste a second to lock it behind them.

What Draco didn't expect is for Harry to pull his wand out and started chanting, "Repello muggletum," while waving his arm around, wand pointed at the walls.

This was taking too long. Draco rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. "Harry. Forget it, let's just…"

Harry paused a while, turned his head enough to look at Draco. " But someone might break down the door or—"

Draco just yanked Harry by the arm and dove for Harry's mouth, the kiss desperate and yearning and just… just plain hungry. He held Harry's cheeks, not wanting to let go, and hoped this got the message through that he wanted Harry now and not a minute later.

When Draco felt Harry pushed him toward the stalls, he thought, 'yeah', Harry so did get the cue. It was a rush between locking the stall door and fumbling with their belts and fly and—

"Turn around," Harry said, pitch low and husky and sounded like he wanted to devour Draco and Draco chanted 'oh please, please, please' in his head while he did what he was told.

He splayed his hands against the wall and gasped when Harry pushed his jeans and boxers all the way down to his ankles, anticipation surging through him in tumultuous waves. His knees buckled when Harry practically rammed a moist finger in him and he heard Harry breathe out an apology.

"Harry," Draco said in a strained voice, "just… do it." He might have sounded too demanding but fuck, he wanted Harry now, wanted to feel Harry.

The words "fuck, Draco" rolled out from Harry with a restrained breath, hot air grazing the side of Draco's neck.

Draco meant to plead but instead he said, "Now," hard-edged and perhaps peremptory in a way. He was glad Harry didn't utter any argument and his body began to shake when he heard the rustling sound of what he guessed was foil.

Harry's hand lingered on his side – somewhere near his hip, fingers cold against his feverish skin. Something cool touched the crack of his arse, prompting him to thrust his hip back. A low growl like that of a tortured soul ripped through his throat and he might have said, "Please, oh please, oh please," but the words that reached his ears were hardly coherent.

His stomach clenched when he felt the hard length slide inside him slowly and he so wanted to tell Harry to 'just fuck me hard, damn it' but his throat closed up and all he could do was hiss.

Breathing proved quite a task and Draco did so through gritted teeth when he felt Harry thrust further, pushed deeper, Harry's cock thick and throbbing inside him. 'Fuck!' He wanted more and he did tell Harry "more. More. Fuck, I want more," and pushed back his hips back to meet Harry's thrusts.

Harry pulled out – excruciatingly slow – and the words 'faster, harder' came rushing out of Draco.

The cubicle seemed to spin. Draco felt as if the floor was slipping out from underneath him when Harry began to move the way Draco wanted him to. Faster. And faster. Harry's cock created a delicious, burning friction that left him shaking and yearning and begging.

Shallow breaths and synchronised grunts and moans filled the dense air. The sound of slicked skin slapping against skin reverberated in Draco's ears.

They moved in a familiar rhythm. Draco's thoughts merged and was now focused on Harry – how Harry filled him, how he loved having Harry inside him, how Harry's hand crawled from his hip and across his belly then curled around his… 'ohfuckohfuckohfuck.'… his erection.

Blood rushed in Draco's ears like a gust of wind and surged straight down to his crotch. He felt his muscles clench, squeezing around Harry's hard, fervent cock.

"Oh fuck!" Harry's grip on Draco's hip and Draco's length tightened. His thrusts went faster and harder and faster and 'oh—'

White sparks exploded behind Draco's eyelids, orgasm ripping through his body. He heard curses pouring out of Harry's mouth before Harry tensed, before Draco felt the pressure of Harry's teeth on his back – right at the curve that flowed from his neck to his shoulder.

Draco imagined Harry's eyes shut tightly, wished he could see Harry's face but Harry's head was slumped over his shoulder.

Neither of them moved until they heard a sound like a door was being unlocked.

Harry blurted, "Shit," almost inaudibly and quickly slid out of Draco.

The loss made Draco weak but he managed to stay upright long enough to fix his jeans. Then Draco melted over the closed lid of the toilet, his breath trying to outrun him.

Mist coated Harry's glasses but he didn't seem bothered. He brushed a few strands of hair off of Draco's forehead then leaned down to press his lips on Draco's and, in between heavy breaths, said, "Why don't we go home and perhaps have another round?"

"Yeah," Draco said, not caring how loud he was despite realising that there were people outside the stall. This was one offer he would never pass up. Not even in his dreams.

~ tbc ~
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Burning For Gold