birdsofshore: (curlew)
[personal profile] birdsofshore
Title: Distracted
Author: [ profile] birdsofshore
Word count: ~2900
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbetaed (that’s LQ’s fault, ahahaha). Semi-public sex, ridiculousness. Probably comma abuse (see: unbetaed)
Summary: Harry wants to get on (with work). Draco wants to get off (with Harry). Guess who wins?
A/N: For the wonderful [ profile] lq_traintracks on her birthday! Dear LQ, this is a paltry thing, but written with love. Thank you for your friendship, your generous support, calm advice, your patient and speedy beta services, and (very important indeed) thank you for the delicious and inventively dirty things you write us. I hope the year ahead brings much joy for you and everyone that you love <3


Even before the lift doors closed on the Atrium, Draco’s eyes were alight with wicked intent and Harry knew he was in trouble.

“Draco. No.”

Draco said nothing, but advanced on him in a way that came close to making Harry forget that he was a trained Auror. A powerful one, with years in the field.

“Absolutely not.” Harry tried to use his sternest tone of voice. But that probably wouldn’t help, because Draco was more or less certain to say—

“Merlin, I love it when you get all Head Auror on me.”

The lift juddered to a halt at the seventh floor and gave its habitual ping before the doors parted. Harry sent up a prayer that someone would be standing there, but no, it was typically deserted for this time of day.

Draco caught Harry’s glance over his shoulder. “Looks like we have it all to ourselves,” he said, his voice like warm brandy sliding down a glass, and leaned in, his arm resting against the wall next to Harry’s head.

“Draco…” Harry began again, but then Draco’s cologne curled into Harry’s nostrils, and underneath it, the scent of his skin, seductive as freshly-brewed Amortentia. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, a bare moment, and allowed himself to enjoy it, to let himself sag against the wall just a fraction. That was all it took for Draco’s fingers to be under Harry’s Auror tunic and skimming over the bare skin of his waist as the lift moved off again.

“Harry…” The soft lilt of his voice nearly undid Harry completely, but no, this time, when Draco stepped in to close the space between them, Harry was waiting for him, the flat of his hand pushing against Draco’s chest.

“No you don’t. I’ve already been late once this week when you ambushed me in the shower on Tuesday.”

“The Head Auror doesn’t have to answer to anybody, surely?”

“I answer to Kingsley, same as you, Mr Senior Undersecretary Malfoy. And the Warminster investigation is going to take all of my attention today – I need to get down to it as soon as possible.”

“God, yes…” Draco was evidently undeterred. “I agree totally. Let’s get down to it right away.” His hand moved to palm the bulge in Harry’s trousers, but Harry grabbed his wrist as the lift pinged their arrival at the sixth floor.

“Stop. Someone will see.”

“So what? Everyone knows we’re together anyway.”

“Yes, everyone knows we’re together, because Hattingstall caught us in the blokes’ loo and blabbed to the entire Auror Department that you had your hands down my trousers and—”

Harry broke off as the doors opened, but the hallway of Magical Transport was also empty.

“Hmm?" Draco made another determined move for Harry's cock. "So, no problem, then."

“It’s— uhh. Unprofessional.”

But as Draco slid a long, firm thigh between Harry’s legs and leaned in again, damp breath fluttering against Harry’s ear, it was getting more and more difficult to remember why exactly he shouldn’t grab Draco’s arse and grind against him, hard and dirty.

“We take this lift every morning,” Draco told him, nuzzling at the stubble on Harry’s jaw. “You insist on arriving for work so early, you know hardly anyone else is around at this time.”

The door slid shut, and Draco pressed a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses along his throat until a moan bubbled up in Harry’s chest.

“Let me, Harry,” Draco whispered. “Let me,” and there was just something about it, the vivid unashamed need of it, that tugged at Harry’s core. Draco reached for him again, and this time Harry didn’t stop him, just stood there and let him feel Harry swell to full hardness under the warmth and pressure of Draco’s hand.

“Shit,” Harry breathed. Draco smiled, provoking and impossible, and Harry lunged at his mouth, needing to feel Draco’s lips opening under his, wanting to wipe that infuriating smile away.

“I knew you’d come around to the idea,” Draco murmured, his hands busy at Harry’s belt buckle. “You have no idea how hot you are in your uniform. Practically asking for it.”

The lift pinged. “Draco, we are three floors away from my office. In the fucking Ministry lift. There’s no – uuuhhhh – time.”

“You want more time? Better stop the lift.” Draco flicked his wand at the doors, which were just closing. “There. How long would it take, Harry?” He rubbed his knuckles along the ridge of Harry’s erection, through his pants, and Harry’s cock leapt at the touch. “Doesn’t feel like you’d need very long.”

Harry gripped Draco’s shoulders hard and kissed him again. Every time felt like the first time. Like he didn’t know whether he wanted to punch Draco till his teeth rattled, or fall at his feet and worship him. “You bastard,” he said softly between kisses, and as he felt Draco smile against his mouth, he knew he was going to give in.

Something about the timing of Draco’s spell seemed to have upset the lift; it had stopped, all right, but the doors weren’t staying closed. They kept sliding shut and then stuttering halfway open again as Draco started to unbutton Harry's tunic. “The doors,” Harry gritted out. “Hurry up. Someone might come.”

“I intend to make quite sure someone does,” Draco said, fingers slipping under the elastic of Harry’s underwear. “Merlin,” he said, as Harry’s cock sprang free, and Draco’s long fingers wrapped around it. “Look at how much you want me.” For a moment he sounded almost disbelieving, but then he smirked, a look that wouldn’t have been out of place on his fifteen-year-old self, and something savage roared to life in Harry. Something that only Draco could stir in him.

“On your knees.” He rapped out the words the same way he’d give an order in the field.

Draco’s eyes widened for a second, then his face took on a well-fed look of satisfaction. His hand lingered over the head of Harry’s cock, and then he held eye contact as he sank to his knees before Harry. When he hit the floor, he stayed looking up, his face expectant, pupils wide and black.

Harry swallowed hard at the sight. He took his own cock in his fist without really knowing what he was doing, the pre-come at the head slippery against his fingers, the aching proof of his own longing making him dizzy. They weren’t actually going to... were they? This was bloody madness, surely in a moment, they would stop, and—

“What now, Auror Potter?” Draco said in that insolent way he had, the one that always made Harry burn with urgency, with the need to teach him a lesson—

Head Auror to you, Malfoy,” he growled, and he gripped Draco’s chin roughly. “Open up.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed and Harry stared as Draco’s mouth opened in a tempting ‘O’ for him to thrust into. He didn’t know if he would ever get used to this being a thing that was possible now. Every time, it took him by surprise, the arousal jolting through him. Every single time. “Fuck,” Harry groaned. “Fucking hell…”

And then Draco’s lips were wrapped around him, slick and hot and tight and perfect, and he couldn’t speak any longer. Draco’s knees nudged against Harry’s boots as he swallowed him down, deeper and deeper, until his nose was nestling in the hair surrounding Harry’s prick. Harry stared and stared, unable to believe that two minutes ago he’d got into this lift fully clothed and now he was leaning against the wall, trousers around his ankles, watching helplessly as Draco took him apart.

Ahhh...” God, Draco looked so fine on his knees. His hands rested lightly on Harry’s thighs at first, but Harry must have bucked a little too enthusiastically, because now Draco was pushing him hard, pressing him back against the lift wall, pinning him by his hips with no escape and no fucking mercy from those lips, that tongue...

At first, Harry opened his eyes every time the lift door slid open again, although what he planned to do if anyone was waiting there, he couldn’t say. But very quickly, even that was beyond him. His fingers scrabbled in Draco’s hair, shoulders braced against the wall of the lift, head thrown back as short guttural pants forced their way from his mouth.

Draco’s cheeks were hollowed, his throat working and his hand moving swiftly over his own cock beneath his formal robes. Sweet holy Merlin, Harry was going to come. He was going to come, he could feel it rushing up from the balls of his feet, like the fierce hot breath of a dragon roaring over his skin.

And then Draco pulled off and muttered something against Harry’s thigh. Something that sounded suspiciously like Finite. And then the fucking lift jolted into action again.

“What the—?” It sounded like a howl of pain. Harry had been so close. So very, very close.

Draco wiped his mouth. “Oh, dear. The spell must have stopped working.”

“It was you, you twisted bastard!” Harry growled in frustration. “Hell, Draco, fucking stop this lift. What spell did you use?”

“I can’t remember right now. Looks like we’re going back down to the Atrium. Hmm. Might actually be some people there.”

Harry considered strangling him, but then Draco sucked on the head of Harry’s cock and the blissful sweetness that had been building in Harry’s balls rose up again and took his breath away.

“Fuck. Just— fuck. Suck me, you wanker. Quickly.”

Draco looked up at him and smirked, Harry’s cock half in and half out of his mouth, his lips shiny and flushed. Fuck, Harry was one hot breath away from coming. He could probably get off just looking at Draco, just thinking about his come splashing over that face, those lips—

“Do it, Malfoy. Or I’ll Hex you raw.”

The lift pinged for the seventh floor and Draco pulled off briefly, his face alight with triumph. “I’d guess you have about thirty seconds. And just remember, this was your idea, Head Auror.”

There was no-one outside, thank Merlin and every precious hair of his beard, and as the door slid shut again, Draco sucked Harry down with aggressive enthusiasm. Harry groaned in approval and braced his legs further apart. The lift moved off, but at that moment Kingsley himself could have been standing right by him and Harry would have cared for nothing except the honeyed heat of Draco’s lips and chasing this unstoppable surge of pleasure.

He yanked at Draco’s hair, thrust in fiercely once, then the irresistible onslaught of orgasm racked his body. Fuck, it was bliss – the release of emptying himself into Draco’s mouth, his cock jerking again and again.

Draco moaned around him, his hand a blur under his robes. Harry sagged against the wall, his body one breathless throb of delight as Draco arched and shuddered to completion.

“Oh, fuuuuuck,” Draco groaned. But he had barely finished coming before he was scrambling to his feet, his robes swirling around his body. “Quickly,” he hissed, gesturing to Harry, who still leant boneless against the wall. The lift pinged and Harry fumbled with his clothes in a panic and managed to get himself tucked away just as Draco Vanished the evidence on the floor.

The doors slid open to reveal the Atrium and the broad frame of Farquar Levant, the Head of Magical Sports and Games, in the lift doorway.

“Levant,” Draco said, with reasonable courtesy, and Harry managed a grunt. Draco was still breathing hard, and slightly pink in the face, but otherwise looked quite reasonable. However Harry guessed from the grimace Draco threw in his direction that Harry perhaps didn’t look so composed. He ran a sweaty hand over his hair as Levant edged his way in. Merlin. That didn’t feel good at all. And shit shit shit, two of the buttons on his tunic were undone, and ah, hell, there was Kingsley, right on cue, getting into the lift.

Kingsley nodded at the three of them.

“Top floor, Minister?” Draco asked, his finger hovering over the button. He sounded hoarse, but that could be for plenty of reasons, Harry told himself. Entirely innocent reasons.

“Level three,” Kingsley told him. “They need my assistance in Magical Accidents, unfortunately.”

A trickle of sweat ran ticklishly down between Harry’s shoulder blades, making him shiver for a moment. Kingsley’s eyes flicked straight to him.

“I hear progress on the Warminster case is slow,” Kingsley said.

“Er. Yes.” Harry’s legs were like jelly, and he couldn’t remember one single thing about the Warminster case. Blasted Draco and his slutty mouth.

Kingsley didn’t comment further, but let his eyes run over Harry, his nostrils flaring. Did something smell in here? Christ, it probably did. It probably reeked of sex, and—

Over Kingsley’s shoulder, a movement caught Harry’s notice. Draco was signalling with his eyes, trying to draw Harry’s attention to something on the floor. Oh, shitting hell. Right in the middle of the otherwise shiny black surface of Harry’s boot, there was a single, fat, glistening drop of spunk.

Harry had to use of all his self control to stop himself rearing back in alarm. Kingsley would notice straight away if he used magic, but as the lift pinged, and the doors slid open to let Levant out, Harry used the diversion to wipe the sole of his pristine boot across the spunky one.

Yeah, that hadn’t really helped as much as he’d hoped. Now he had one clean boot and one spunk-smeared one. Bloody marvellous. He didn’t even know if it was his spunk or Draco’s, but he knew when he got Draco alone he was going to fucking—

Kingsley’s deep voice cut into his thoughts. “Is everything all right, Harry?”

Merlin. Draco was smirking, actually smirking. “Fine. Yes. Really fine.”

“It’s just that you look a little agitated today.”

“Uh. Yes. Well, I was in a rush because I needed to get here, you know. The, uh. Warminster case.”

“Of course.” Kingsley inclined his head gently. “Perhaps tomorrow you should get up a little earlier.”

“Yes, good idea. I’ll do that.”

“To allow more time to take care of matters... at home.”

Harry could feel himself dying inside, slowly, bit by bit. His voice sounded hollow. “Absolutely.”

Kingsley turned his attention to a roll of parchment in his hand and Harry very slowly let out a long breath. The silence as they rode on felt like it might never end. Perhaps if Harry Obliviated himself, made a nice clean job of it, he could forget this had ever happened.

After several years, the lift pinged for level three and Kingsley looked up from his parchment. “Well, goodbye for now, Harry. Mr Malfoy. My visit here concerns a rather nasty incident in Rotherham yesterday. It is astonishing what can happen when people’s minds are distracted from their jobs.”

Harry swallowed and wondered if the noise his throat made sounded that loud to everyone else, or only in his head.

“Mr Malfoy, I shall rejoin you upstairs shortly," Kingsley continued. "If you could get someone high up at St Mungo’s on the Floo in my office for when I return? And am I right in thinking that I have a meeting with the Auror department at two?”

“Two fifteen, I believe, Minister.” Draco’s face was a normal colour now and wore his usual expression of rather bored nonchalance as he stood aside to allow Kingsley to exit.

“Very good. Mr Malfoy and I shall see you at two fifteen, Harry.”


“Try not to miss us too much until then.”

The door slid shut and Harry slumped against the lift wall. Draco let out a surprisingly high-pitched laugh before aiming his wand at Harry’s boot and removing the smeary evidence.

“You fucker.” Harry glared at him. “I hate you.”

Draco was on him again, breathing a hot kiss against his throat. “You love me.”

“Get the hell away from me.” But Harry’s hands moved to the curve of Draco’s arse, firm under his tailored trousers, and squeezed, all the same.

“You’ll never be able to resist me, Potter,” Draco breathed, and the worst of it was, Harry could easily get hard again, just thinking about it, just wanting him so much—

The lift pinged for level two and Draco stepped away smartly, evading Harry’s grasp. “I think this is where you get off.”

Harry pointed at the recently spunky floor. “Well, apparently, round about there is where I get off.”

“That was just for today. I have other ideas for tomorrow,” Draco promised.

Harry shook his head. "No. Just no." The DMLE lobby was empty as he stepped out. Which was lucky, because Draco wasn’t finished. “Just as a matter of interest: how do you feel about bending me over Kingsley’s desk?”

Harry could picture it all too well. Draco’s robes pushed hastily out of the way, elbows resting on the oak desk. Harry’s body curled around him, driving into him with deep, urgent strokes— “You’re going to get us both fired.”

“Not a chance. This is the best role I’ve ever had.” The hint of a leer crossed his face. “The on-the-job perks are fantastic.”

The last thing Harry saw as the lift doors closed was Draco’s smug expression. And the first thing he saw when he walked in for his two fifteen meeting with Kingsley was the Minister's expansive, solid, oak desk, the wood polished to such a high shine so that it rivalled the unsettling gleam in Draco’s eyes.
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