The Bequest for yisxplusb
Title: The Bequest
Author: asnowyowl
Rating:* NC-17
Word Count: 4,329
Challenge Recipient: yisxplusb
Keywords: elliptical, somniferous, margarine
Dialogue: "It belonged to Mad-Eye."
Summary: Harry uses an object in a way unintended
This is my first H/D. I hope you like it, yisxplusb!
I own nothing... Harry and Draco belong to Jk Rowling.
The Bequest
Harry lifted his glass of Firewhiskey in salute. “To you, Mad-Eye. Here’s hoping you found all your body parts waiting for you on the other side… especially that missing eye.” He threw the drink back and slammed the shot glass down on his coffee table before picking up the parcel he’d received that afternoon. Harry’d been surprised by the solicitor’s letter stating Mad-Eye Moody had bequeathed him something in his will. He hadn’t been surprised, however, to find he and Arthur Weasley had been the only ones invited to the reading.
Tonks had been mentioned in the document too, but the dead couldn’t collect from their own.
Harry fingered the package and fought the urge to just throw it unopened into his old school trunk. Why bring back memories of the dead? He shook his head as a wry smile crossed his face. Leave it to the Ministry to wait ten years to declare Mad-Eye Moody dead. His body had never been found and, obviously, his magical eye nailed to Dolores Umbridge’s office door hadn’t been enough to convince some people of the man’s demise. But when the old codger hadn’t been seen in a decade and the Ministry wanted to clear out his office for some snot-nosed junior bureaucrat, they’d finally moved on the matter. Within days, Mad-Eye was declared officially deceased.
So now Harry sat in his flat staring at a box he was afraid to open. Really, there was no cause for fear; after all, he and Mad-Eye had fought on the same side of the war. The man surely wouldn’t have left him something dangerous. Harry had only been a teenager when Mad-Eye died. What kind of berk would leave a dangerous item to a teen? “A berk like Mad-Eye,” Harry whispered to the room.
After another two-finger swallow of whiskey, Harry tore the box open. There was one single item inside: a rather nondescript metal tube. Since it appeared harmless, Harry lifted it from the box. He almost but dropped it right back in again though, as the tube’s bottom half appeared to melt and shape itself to fit snuggly between Harry’s thumb and forefinger, elliptical now instead of round. That was interesting.
Holding it gingerly, Harry examined the smooth metal, both inside and out, but found no markings. He checked it over as much as an unadorned metal tube could be examined and then set it down on the coffee table (and noticed when it reverted back to it previously rounded shape). Harry reached for the firewhiskey again and reminded himself that he steadfastly refused to feel guilty about getting soused in the middle of the day With Mad-Eye’s will stirring up memories of the war, he deserved a little liquid obliviation.
Half an hour and half the bottle of whiskey later, Harry had forgotten there had ever been a war. Almost. Picking up his inheritance again, he chuckled. “You, m’love, are about the same size s’my dick,” he slurred. “Are ya some sort of wankin’ device?” He laughed harder, rolling onto his side on the couch. “The Boy with the Metal Dick…tha’s wha’ I’ll be. Don’t use it much anyway, now do I?”
He pulled his cock out of his pants and slipped the metal sleeve over it just before he passed out.
Harry awoke in the middle of the night with a headache and a full bladder. When he sat up on the couch, something cold and hard hit him on thigh. He yelped. Grasping about for his wand (he finally found it between the couch cushions along with a half eaten pumpkin pasty and two knuts), he cast Lumos and peered through the thin light at his lap. Ah, Mad-Eye’s gift. He’d ask Hermione tomorrow if she knew what it was. He grabbed the box it had come in, intent on putting the thing away, but when he went to lift the metal tube off his lap, he about tore his dick off. He folded in on himself and lay in the fetal position for a full five minutes before gingerly holding the metal nightmare and rolling over onto his back. After a deep breath… or two… he braved a look at his most private of areas. He saw the base of his cock where it disappeared into the metal tube and its head where it peeked jauntily out, but the rest was encased like a sausage.
Harry groaned. A sound that was to be repeated often during the night as he tried every magical and non-magical way he could think of to remove the offending object. In retrospect, the worst idea had been to slick what little of his cock was unsheathed in margarine. Whereas before, he’d been half-drunk, chafing from the metal, and completely mortified, now he was half-sober, chafing from the metal, completely horrified, and greasy. Shit.
At least when he tried to piss, that worked.
In the morning, he gingerly dressed in the most voluminous robes he owned and headed in to work. Either no one noticed that he was walking a little funny, or they just didn’t mention it. Maybe people expected to see gay Harry Potter walking oddly now and then, or hopefully they would think he’d ridden a broom a little too long. Not a broom, his broom, dammit.
As the day wore on, the metal monstrosity was hard enough to cope with, but when it started getting a little tingly, it was almost too much.
The first time the tingle hit was when Harry interrogated a suspect charged with Muggle baiting. As soon as he stepped into the room and glanced at the perp, the metal tube began lightly vibrating. The sensation was kind of nice for a bloke who hadn’t had a partner in some time. If Harry hadn’t been at work, he would have purred like a kitten. Harry knew his cock was swelling, but the tube didn’t seem constricting, so he didn’t worry about it. But as the interview became more intense, so did the vibration, until Harry was afraid he was going to come in his robes.
Since he had no idea how long he was going to remain coherent, Harry rested his hands on the table in front of the would-be criminal, leaned in close, and used his best imitation of Professor Snape to say, “I’m not having a very good day, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll fucking confess so we can both get the hell out of here before I lose it.”
Later, he realized he must have put a bit too much into the sneer, because the girl whimpered and yelled, “Okay, I did it, just get out of my face, yeah?”
The metal monstrosity jerked and Harry came in his pants… hard.
He begged off interrogations for the rest of the day. After that, the device surrounding his cock seemed to behave a little better. It pulsed and tingled lightly at odd moments (when he called on Neville about a stolen rare plant, when he smiled at the pretty girl behind the coffee shop counter, and even when he crossed the effin street), but remained pretty much unobtrusive.
After work, he made excuses to Ron for not going out for a pint and instead went home to shuck his kit and, thankfully, spread his abused thighs. It was only when he didn’t have the damned metal casing cutting into his legs or stomach that he could finally think. The fact that the thing was still fitting snugly over his flaccid penis didn’t mesh well with the idea that it had also held his (much larger, he’d have you know) erection before he’d come in his pants like a sodding fifteen-year-old. In the name of scientific research, Harry ghosted his fingers over his cock head with one hand while he groped at his balls with the other. He watched, fascinated, as the sheath grew right along with his cock. He tried to remove the damned thing while he was hard, but it was just as unmoving.
As the evening wore on, he tried all the same tricks he had tried the night before-with the exception of that margarine bit, but to no avail. Finally the somniferous tones of Celestina Warbeck wafting from his wizard wireless lulled him off to sleep, hand still clutching at the metal nuisance between his legs.
The next morning, he called in sick to work and asked to have the Auror Department’s mediwizard come to his flat. The last thing he wanted to do was parade his predicament to anyone, but since it wasn’t coming off on its own, Harry could see no other choice. He had considered checking it out with Hermione, but the last time he’d tried to show her his penis, Ron hadn’t talked to him for three months. Gods, he was only trying to show her what an unfreckled member looked like. Ron just didn’t have a sense of humor. He had also thought about going to St. Mungo’s, but had learned his lesson years ago about how unconfidential care at that hospital could be. He still got the occasional catcall over that incident.
Finally, in a moment of sickening clarity, he had realized the department’s mediwizard was his only option. He was even more sickened when his flu flared and Draco Malfoy stepped through. Harry, sitting on the couch with nothing but a blanket to cover his nudity, blushed to the roots of his hair. It was bad enough to confess his predicament to anyone, but for his confessor to be his entirely too-sexy nemesis, was most galling.
Draco looked him up and down as he retrieved his wand from its holster. “Glad to see you’re ready for your examination, Potter.”
The metal troublemaker decided on that moment to tingle. It only got worse when Malfoy strode closer and asked, “So, what’s the problem?”
Harry almost yelled, ‘The problem is that the department hired you as our mediwizard,’ but held his tongue. Instead, he cleared his throat, held his voice steady, and said, “I seem to have gotten into a somewhat nasty predicament with a magical item.”
Draco looked Harry over again, one eyebrow rising into his hairline. “You look fine. What was the magical item and what symptoms are you displaying?” Draco conjured a piece of parchment and quill and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry reached forward and grabbed the parchment from Draco’s hand. “No notes,” he said.
“It’s part of my job. All on-the-job injuries must be reported and entered into your file. You know that, Potter.”
“My… my problem didn’t happen on the job, so you don’t need to write it down or mention it to anyone, okay? Really, this is pretty personal and embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know.” For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was begging Draco Malfoy for a favor, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Malfoy laughed. “Is this a blackmail material caliber problem, Potter?”
Harry was so angry he barely registered that Moody’s present had stopped tingling. He wrapped the blanket snugly around his hips, holding it in a knot at one side, and stood. “Get out!” he bellowed.
Draco held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Get a grip, Potter, it was only a joke. Now sit down and tell me what you did to yourself.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“I took an oath as a mediwizard. As long as your injury didn’t happen in the line of duty, I can’t and won’t discuss it with anyone.”
Harry sighed and regained his seat on the sofa. He knew his face was flaming when he said, “This has to do with my… well, with my… uhm, personal area.”
The metal ogre flared.
Malfoy flushed. “You mean your penis is involved?”
Harry nodded and darted his eyes away. Suddenly the grimy wall paint was far too interesting to tear his attention from.
Unfortunately, the metal casing was tingling so furiously that Harry thought it might be visible through the blanket. He left the wall paint for another day’s inspection and glanced down, but could see nothing but a heavy bulge.
“Before I look at your, uhm… affected area, you should tell me the nature of the problem,” Malfoy said.
“I came into possession of this tubular metal… thing.” Harry scrubbed his hands across his face, not sure how to make this sound any better than it actually was. After all, twenty-seven year old men didn’t stick their cocks into random objects. “I knew it was magical, but I was a bit drunk and well… I stuck my dick into it and now I can’t get it off.”
Malfoy sunk down to sit on the sofa next to Harry. Harry still wouldn’t look at him, but the blonde’s voice sounded choked when he said, “You mean you stuck your cock into an unknown magical object and didn’t see the stupidity of the act?”
“Like I said, I was pissed.”
Malfoy made another choking sound and then fell into fits of almost violent laughter. Between gales, he said, “Okay, then, let me see.”
“There is such a thing as bedside manner, Malfoy. You’re a bloody doctor, act like one, would you?” Harry finally looked at Malfoy. The man’s cheeks were red from laughing. In a moment of madness, Harry wondered if Malfoy would have that same coloring during sex. He hated to admit he’d like to find out.
“Come on, Potter. Even you have to admit this is funny.”
“Fuck it!” Harry cursed. He stood up in front of Malfoy and let the blanket fall to the floor, revealing his encased cock.
That stopped Malfoy’s laughter but increased the sparks going from the metal tube to Harry’s cock. He bit down on his bottom lip. He was not going to come in front of Malfoy.
Having Draco Malfoy peer intently at his cock, however, was almost more sensual than the overwhelming tingling of the metal ogre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Harry chanted, trying desperately to keep from coming.
Malfoy’s eyes flicked uncertainly from Harry’s cock to his face. That did it. Harry was sent over the edge and began spurting, splashing Malfoy’s robes and hands.
Malfoy plucked at his robes and then lifted his despoiled hands up, gazing at them, mouth agape. Harry was mortified. He covered his now spent penis with his hands and said, “I’m sorry, Malfoy. It’s this damn device. It goes all wanky sometimes.”
After casting a cleaning spell, Malfoy met Harry’s eye and grinned. “Definitely blackmail material,” he said.
Harry was about to retort when Draco held up a hand to silence him. “Leave it to you, Potter, to buy an anxiometer and not know how to use it. Gods, who in their right mind would put it on their penis… drunk or sober?”
“Listen, enough taking the piss out of me. I don’t care what the fuck this thing is, I just want it off.” Harry sank down to the floor and pulled the blanket back over his lap.
“Well, any idiot should be able to get it off. Did you set a password when you opened it or is it still locked with the factory default?” Draco asked.
“I didn’t buy it new,” Harry said. “It was… well, it was bequeathed to me.”
Draco raised one eyebrow. “This just gets better and better, Potter. You’re actually telling me that someone died and left you an unknown magical item and the first thing you do with it was put it on your dick?”
Harry kept his head down as he softly said, “I was drunk.”
“Drunk or not, you of all people, an Auror who defeated the Dark Lord, should know better.” Draco had the audacity to tsk.
Look, you can call me any names you want after you get this bloody thing off me, okay?” Harry bolted off the floor, but the edge of the blanket was caught under the leg of the sofa. His covering was ripped away. He stood with his metal encased, flaccid cock dangling about his legs.
Draco smirked. “I hope you knew the person well who left you the anxiometer.”
“What? Why?”
“Because that person would have set a password that would allow the resizing of the device. Without the password, Potter, it’ll have to be cut off.”
Harry’s mouth moved, but no sound left his lips.
Draco snorted. “Not your penis, you berk. A surgeon would have to cut the anxiometer off your body.”
“Still…” Harry shuddered.
“So… password. Flick your wand over the top of the device, concentrate on enlarging the anxiometer, and try a few of the old owner’s favorite words or phrases.”
Harry picked up his wand and flicked it over his cock. He closed his eyes and thought about Mad-Eye. He smiled. Of course! He knew the exact phrase Mad-Eye Moody would have used. “Constant Vigilance!” he muttered.
Damn, his cock still felt a bit compressed. Harry squinted his eyes open and peered down. There had been no change.
From his seat on the couch, Malfoy choked.
Harry sent him as scathing a look as a naked man with an armored cock could muster.
Malfoy’s choking turned into a full out babbling laugh. A laugh complete with tears running down his cheeks. It lasted for several minutes.
When Malfoy finally pulled himself together, Harry scowled at him and asked, “What is so bloody funny?”
“Did…” Malfoy took a shuddering breath. “Did that thing come from Mad-Eye Moody?”
Without letting go of his scowl, Harry nodded. “It belonged to Mad-Eye.”
Draco was grinning like a fool. “Oh, doesn’t this get better all the time?” He gave Harry an appraising look. “So, not only did you attach a magical object to your cock, but said magical object belonged to that berk, Moody.” He held up a hand before Harry could protest (not that there was anything to protest about). “Really, Potter, if you thought it was some sort of wanking device, would you not have also considered that Mad-Eye would have used it on his own dick? Tell me, was it a turn-on for you to think you were sticking your cock in the same hole Moody had used?”
Harry covered his face with his hands and sunk once more to the floor. “I obviously didn’t think it through,” he said. Uncovering his face, he looked up at Malfoy. “What exactly is this thing for anyway?”
“It’s similar to a sneakoscope, but tells if anyone around you is nervous.” Malfoy smiled and said, “It sizes itself to whatever body part the user wants to wear it on, and that’s usually the wrist or ankle. Aurors used to rely on them thinking that a guilty person would be more anxious than an innocent one. They went out of favor when too many high-strung individuals were wrongly accused of crimes.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Harry said. “I was interrogating a prisoner yesterday and the thing went really wonky. I even…” Harry stopped himself before he let slip too much information.
“You what?” Malfoy’s eyes glittered. “Did you come in your pants?”
Harry turned away and ran a hand through his hair. “But, wait,” he said after several moments. “The thing went off yesterday when I was talking to Neville. There’d be no reason for him to be nervous around me.”
“You might want to check his back room for the illegal potions ingredients he grows for black-market trade.”
“What? Neville. No!” Harry stuttered.
Malfoy shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “If this thing really goes off when people around me are anxious, how come it went so bloody crazy with you?” He watched as Malfoy’s face reddened.
“The thing must have a malfunction. Er… can you think of any other possible passwords?”
“No! I really didn’t know Moody well. But don’t change the subject,” Harry demanded. “Why would you be nervous around me? What are you hiding, Malfoy?”
Malfoy took a deep breath and turned to face Harry, his eyes held an odd gleam. “Do you really want to know what I’m hiding?” he asked. The anxiometer flared causing Harry to moan and his cock to twitch. Malfoy took a step toward Harry and then another, easily closing the distance between them in the small room. He knelt down directly in front of Harry and purred, “Be very sure you want to know.”
Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Malfoy graced him with a lopsided grin before leaning forward and grazing his lips over Harry’s. Between the feel of Malfoy’s soft lips and the thrum of the anxiometer, Harry was hard again in moments. Malfoy pressed ahead further, mashing his lips against Harry’s and slithering his tongue into Harry’s mouth.
“Bloody. Fucking. Hell!” Harry pushed Malfoy away and glared.
Malfoy stood and smoothed his robes. He sneered down at Harry. “Even a Malfoy’s not good enough for you, is that it?”
“Don’t be a prat,” Harry said. “I didn’t say I don’t want you. But why the fuck would you wait until I can’t possibly perform to come on to me?”
Malfoy’s face softened as he grinned. “Let’s call it incentive.” He dropped to his knees and cupped the back of Harry’s head in his hands. “This is how it’ll work. I’m going to fuck you into this carpet and shoot my load into your hot arse. You, on the other hand, will get no release unless you come up with the password. See, incentive. Got it?”
Harry nodded, unable to trust his voice. His prick was exceptionally hard at the thought of being fucked by Malfoy. Too bad the anxiometer was no longer thrumming.
“Good. Now help me out of these clothes like a good little savior.”
Harry blindly located his wand behind him and with one flick divested Malfoy of his clothes. The blonde was as magnificent as Harry had always imagined he’d be: smooth pale skin, hairless except for the curls surrounding his cock.
“Well, that was romantic,” Malfoy hissed.
“Do you want roses or a fuck, Mal… er… Draco…”
“A fuck for now, roses later. On your knees, Harry.”
“What? Don’t want to see my lovely face as you fuck me?”
“We’ll save that for later, too. But for now, I don’t want one of your stray spells hitting my cock while you’re trying to remove the anxiometer.”
Well, that made sense. And, since there was a promise of more later, Harry flipped over and presented his bottom to Draco. He felt soft hands skim down his back to finally part his arse cheeks.
“Ministry idiots,” Harry mumbled, touching his wand to the metal menace. Nothing happened.
Harry felt the prod of cool wood on his entrance, heard Draco mutter a spell, and felt his entrance magically lubricated and stretched. He snorted. “Talk about unromantic. You know, manually is much more fun.”
Draco draped his body over Harry’s and whispered in his ear, “I’ve been waiting too long to stick my dick in you to worry about pleasantries.”
Harry shuddered. He reached for his cock only to brush his hand along cold metal. “Fuck!” He waved his wand again. Maybe Moody used the names of some of his fellow Aurors. “Nymphodora Tonks.” Nothing.
Draco pushed his cock head against Harry’s entrance. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring a woman into sex with us.”
Harry would have snorted, but Draco’s cock entering him in one slow slide took his breath away.
Wand swish. “Kingsley Shackelbolt”
Nothing.
“Now there’s a fine arse,” Draco said. He began thrusting in long hard strokes, just how Harry liked to be fucked. Harry bucked back against the next thrust and was rewarded by a groan from Draco.
He couldn’t remember any more Aurors that worked with Moody ten years ago.
Draco’s cock slid over Harry’s prostate. Harry roared in frustration.
“Keep. Thinking. Potter…” Draco rasped. “Won’t last long.” His strokes sped up.
Wand swish. “White Ferret.”
Draco paused in his thrusts only long enough to smack Harry’s arse. Harry moaned.
“Like a little pain with your pleasure, Harry? I’ll remember that.”
True to his word, Draco was now pounding Harry into the carpet. If it weren’t for the fact he had to remain on his knees to have access to the anxiometer, Harry would have collapsed onto his belly several thrusts ago. Gods, he was aching. He needed release.
Shaky wand swish. “Death Eater scum.”
The anxiometer fell to the floor with a metallic clang. Harry grabbed his abused cock and pulled once, twice, before coming all over his own hand. Behind him, Draco’s thrusts became erratic. “Harry,” Draco moaned as he pulsed into Harry’s body.
Harry collapsed onto the floor taking Draco down with him. After several minutes of nothing but deep breathing and the settling of pounding hearts, Draco murmured, “Death Eater scum, eh? Moody always did have a way with words.”
Harry found enough energy to chuckle, but it was a while before either man found the energy to disentangle from the other and stand. As they were getting dressed, Draco picked up the anxiometer and cast Scourgify on it. The blonde then fit the device over his own cock. It shrunk to fit snugly around his girth.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Draco shrugged. “I heard you’re afraid of the London Eye… oh… that is rather nice, isn’t it?”
“What are you thinking? I am not going on that wretched Muggle death trap just so you can get your jollies,” Harry spluttered.
Draco moaned and grinned, his eyes half-hooded as he watched Harry. “Merlin, you are scared of it, aren’t you? If you’re getting this nervous just thinking about it, I wonder how close we’ll get to it before I come.” He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “Come on, Potter, do this for me and tomorrow I’ll show you how frightened I am of wasps.”
fin
Author: asnowyowl
Rating:* NC-17
Word Count: 4,329
Challenge Recipient: yisxplusb
Keywords: elliptical, somniferous, margarine
Dialogue: "It belonged to Mad-Eye."
Summary: Harry uses an object in a way unintended
This is my first H/D. I hope you like it, yisxplusb!
I own nothing... Harry and Draco belong to Jk Rowling.
The Bequest
Harry lifted his glass of Firewhiskey in salute. “To you, Mad-Eye. Here’s hoping you found all your body parts waiting for you on the other side… especially that missing eye.” He threw the drink back and slammed the shot glass down on his coffee table before picking up the parcel he’d received that afternoon. Harry’d been surprised by the solicitor’s letter stating Mad-Eye Moody had bequeathed him something in his will. He hadn’t been surprised, however, to find he and Arthur Weasley had been the only ones invited to the reading.
Tonks had been mentioned in the document too, but the dead couldn’t collect from their own.
Harry fingered the package and fought the urge to just throw it unopened into his old school trunk. Why bring back memories of the dead? He shook his head as a wry smile crossed his face. Leave it to the Ministry to wait ten years to declare Mad-Eye Moody dead. His body had never been found and, obviously, his magical eye nailed to Dolores Umbridge’s office door hadn’t been enough to convince some people of the man’s demise. But when the old codger hadn’t been seen in a decade and the Ministry wanted to clear out his office for some snot-nosed junior bureaucrat, they’d finally moved on the matter. Within days, Mad-Eye was declared officially deceased.
So now Harry sat in his flat staring at a box he was afraid to open. Really, there was no cause for fear; after all, he and Mad-Eye had fought on the same side of the war. The man surely wouldn’t have left him something dangerous. Harry had only been a teenager when Mad-Eye died. What kind of berk would leave a dangerous item to a teen? “A berk like Mad-Eye,” Harry whispered to the room.
After another two-finger swallow of whiskey, Harry tore the box open. There was one single item inside: a rather nondescript metal tube. Since it appeared harmless, Harry lifted it from the box. He almost but dropped it right back in again though, as the tube’s bottom half appeared to melt and shape itself to fit snuggly between Harry’s thumb and forefinger, elliptical now instead of round. That was interesting.
Holding it gingerly, Harry examined the smooth metal, both inside and out, but found no markings. He checked it over as much as an unadorned metal tube could be examined and then set it down on the coffee table (and noticed when it reverted back to it previously rounded shape). Harry reached for the firewhiskey again and reminded himself that he steadfastly refused to feel guilty about getting soused in the middle of the day With Mad-Eye’s will stirring up memories of the war, he deserved a little liquid obliviation.
Half an hour and half the bottle of whiskey later, Harry had forgotten there had ever been a war. Almost. Picking up his inheritance again, he chuckled. “You, m’love, are about the same size s’my dick,” he slurred. “Are ya some sort of wankin’ device?” He laughed harder, rolling onto his side on the couch. “The Boy with the Metal Dick…tha’s wha’ I’ll be. Don’t use it much anyway, now do I?”
He pulled his cock out of his pants and slipped the metal sleeve over it just before he passed out.
Harry awoke in the middle of the night with a headache and a full bladder. When he sat up on the couch, something cold and hard hit him on thigh. He yelped. Grasping about for his wand (he finally found it between the couch cushions along with a half eaten pumpkin pasty and two knuts), he cast Lumos and peered through the thin light at his lap. Ah, Mad-Eye’s gift. He’d ask Hermione tomorrow if she knew what it was. He grabbed the box it had come in, intent on putting the thing away, but when he went to lift the metal tube off his lap, he about tore his dick off. He folded in on himself and lay in the fetal position for a full five minutes before gingerly holding the metal nightmare and rolling over onto his back. After a deep breath… or two… he braved a look at his most private of areas. He saw the base of his cock where it disappeared into the metal tube and its head where it peeked jauntily out, but the rest was encased like a sausage.
Harry groaned. A sound that was to be repeated often during the night as he tried every magical and non-magical way he could think of to remove the offending object. In retrospect, the worst idea had been to slick what little of his cock was unsheathed in margarine. Whereas before, he’d been half-drunk, chafing from the metal, and completely mortified, now he was half-sober, chafing from the metal, completely horrified, and greasy. Shit.
At least when he tried to piss, that worked.
In the morning, he gingerly dressed in the most voluminous robes he owned and headed in to work. Either no one noticed that he was walking a little funny, or they just didn’t mention it. Maybe people expected to see gay Harry Potter walking oddly now and then, or hopefully they would think he’d ridden a broom a little too long. Not a broom, his broom, dammit.
As the day wore on, the metal monstrosity was hard enough to cope with, but when it started getting a little tingly, it was almost too much.
The first time the tingle hit was when Harry interrogated a suspect charged with Muggle baiting. As soon as he stepped into the room and glanced at the perp, the metal tube began lightly vibrating. The sensation was kind of nice for a bloke who hadn’t had a partner in some time. If Harry hadn’t been at work, he would have purred like a kitten. Harry knew his cock was swelling, but the tube didn’t seem constricting, so he didn’t worry about it. But as the interview became more intense, so did the vibration, until Harry was afraid he was going to come in his robes.
Since he had no idea how long he was going to remain coherent, Harry rested his hands on the table in front of the would-be criminal, leaned in close, and used his best imitation of Professor Snape to say, “I’m not having a very good day, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll fucking confess so we can both get the hell out of here before I lose it.”
Later, he realized he must have put a bit too much into the sneer, because the girl whimpered and yelled, “Okay, I did it, just get out of my face, yeah?”
The metal monstrosity jerked and Harry came in his pants… hard.
He begged off interrogations for the rest of the day. After that, the device surrounding his cock seemed to behave a little better. It pulsed and tingled lightly at odd moments (when he called on Neville about a stolen rare plant, when he smiled at the pretty girl behind the coffee shop counter, and even when he crossed the effin street), but remained pretty much unobtrusive.
After work, he made excuses to Ron for not going out for a pint and instead went home to shuck his kit and, thankfully, spread his abused thighs. It was only when he didn’t have the damned metal casing cutting into his legs or stomach that he could finally think. The fact that the thing was still fitting snugly over his flaccid penis didn’t mesh well with the idea that it had also held his (much larger, he’d have you know) erection before he’d come in his pants like a sodding fifteen-year-old. In the name of scientific research, Harry ghosted his fingers over his cock head with one hand while he groped at his balls with the other. He watched, fascinated, as the sheath grew right along with his cock. He tried to remove the damned thing while he was hard, but it was just as unmoving.
As the evening wore on, he tried all the same tricks he had tried the night before-with the exception of that margarine bit, but to no avail. Finally the somniferous tones of Celestina Warbeck wafting from his wizard wireless lulled him off to sleep, hand still clutching at the metal nuisance between his legs.
The next morning, he called in sick to work and asked to have the Auror Department’s mediwizard come to his flat. The last thing he wanted to do was parade his predicament to anyone, but since it wasn’t coming off on its own, Harry could see no other choice. He had considered checking it out with Hermione, but the last time he’d tried to show her his penis, Ron hadn’t talked to him for three months. Gods, he was only trying to show her what an unfreckled member looked like. Ron just didn’t have a sense of humor. He had also thought about going to St. Mungo’s, but had learned his lesson years ago about how unconfidential care at that hospital could be. He still got the occasional catcall over that incident.
Finally, in a moment of sickening clarity, he had realized the department’s mediwizard was his only option. He was even more sickened when his flu flared and Draco Malfoy stepped through. Harry, sitting on the couch with nothing but a blanket to cover his nudity, blushed to the roots of his hair. It was bad enough to confess his predicament to anyone, but for his confessor to be his entirely too-sexy nemesis, was most galling.
Draco looked him up and down as he retrieved his wand from its holster. “Glad to see you’re ready for your examination, Potter.”
The metal troublemaker decided on that moment to tingle. It only got worse when Malfoy strode closer and asked, “So, what’s the problem?”
Harry almost yelled, ‘The problem is that the department hired you as our mediwizard,’ but held his tongue. Instead, he cleared his throat, held his voice steady, and said, “I seem to have gotten into a somewhat nasty predicament with a magical item.”
Draco looked Harry over again, one eyebrow rising into his hairline. “You look fine. What was the magical item and what symptoms are you displaying?” Draco conjured a piece of parchment and quill and looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry reached forward and grabbed the parchment from Draco’s hand. “No notes,” he said.
“It’s part of my job. All on-the-job injuries must be reported and entered into your file. You know that, Potter.”
“My… my problem didn’t happen on the job, so you don’t need to write it down or mention it to anyone, okay? Really, this is pretty personal and embarrassing. I don’t want anyone to know.” For the first time in his life, Harry Potter was begging Draco Malfoy for a favor, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Malfoy laughed. “Is this a blackmail material caliber problem, Potter?”
Harry was so angry he barely registered that Moody’s present had stopped tingling. He wrapped the blanket snugly around his hips, holding it in a knot at one side, and stood. “Get out!” he bellowed.
Draco held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Get a grip, Potter, it was only a joke. Now sit down and tell me what you did to yourself.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“I took an oath as a mediwizard. As long as your injury didn’t happen in the line of duty, I can’t and won’t discuss it with anyone.”
Harry sighed and regained his seat on the sofa. He knew his face was flaming when he said, “This has to do with my… well, with my… uhm, personal area.”
The metal ogre flared.
Malfoy flushed. “You mean your penis is involved?”
Harry nodded and darted his eyes away. Suddenly the grimy wall paint was far too interesting to tear his attention from.
Unfortunately, the metal casing was tingling so furiously that Harry thought it might be visible through the blanket. He left the wall paint for another day’s inspection and glanced down, but could see nothing but a heavy bulge.
“Before I look at your, uhm… affected area, you should tell me the nature of the problem,” Malfoy said.
“I came into possession of this tubular metal… thing.” Harry scrubbed his hands across his face, not sure how to make this sound any better than it actually was. After all, twenty-seven year old men didn’t stick their cocks into random objects. “I knew it was magical, but I was a bit drunk and well… I stuck my dick into it and now I can’t get it off.”
Malfoy sunk down to sit on the sofa next to Harry. Harry still wouldn’t look at him, but the blonde’s voice sounded choked when he said, “You mean you stuck your cock into an unknown magical object and didn’t see the stupidity of the act?”
“Like I said, I was pissed.”
Malfoy made another choking sound and then fell into fits of almost violent laughter. Between gales, he said, “Okay, then, let me see.”
“There is such a thing as bedside manner, Malfoy. You’re a bloody doctor, act like one, would you?” Harry finally looked at Malfoy. The man’s cheeks were red from laughing. In a moment of madness, Harry wondered if Malfoy would have that same coloring during sex. He hated to admit he’d like to find out.
“Come on, Potter. Even you have to admit this is funny.”
“Fuck it!” Harry cursed. He stood up in front of Malfoy and let the blanket fall to the floor, revealing his encased cock.
That stopped Malfoy’s laughter but increased the sparks going from the metal tube to Harry’s cock. He bit down on his bottom lip. He was not going to come in front of Malfoy.
Having Draco Malfoy peer intently at his cock, however, was almost more sensual than the overwhelming tingling of the metal ogre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Harry chanted, trying desperately to keep from coming.
Malfoy’s eyes flicked uncertainly from Harry’s cock to his face. That did it. Harry was sent over the edge and began spurting, splashing Malfoy’s robes and hands.
Malfoy plucked at his robes and then lifted his despoiled hands up, gazing at them, mouth agape. Harry was mortified. He covered his now spent penis with his hands and said, “I’m sorry, Malfoy. It’s this damn device. It goes all wanky sometimes.”
After casting a cleaning spell, Malfoy met Harry’s eye and grinned. “Definitely blackmail material,” he said.
Harry was about to retort when Draco held up a hand to silence him. “Leave it to you, Potter, to buy an anxiometer and not know how to use it. Gods, who in their right mind would put it on their penis… drunk or sober?”
“Listen, enough taking the piss out of me. I don’t care what the fuck this thing is, I just want it off.” Harry sank down to the floor and pulled the blanket back over his lap.
“Well, any idiot should be able to get it off. Did you set a password when you opened it or is it still locked with the factory default?” Draco asked.
“I didn’t buy it new,” Harry said. “It was… well, it was bequeathed to me.”
Draco raised one eyebrow. “This just gets better and better, Potter. You’re actually telling me that someone died and left you an unknown magical item and the first thing you do with it was put it on your dick?”
Harry kept his head down as he softly said, “I was drunk.”
“Drunk or not, you of all people, an Auror who defeated the Dark Lord, should know better.” Draco had the audacity to tsk.
Look, you can call me any names you want after you get this bloody thing off me, okay?” Harry bolted off the floor, but the edge of the blanket was caught under the leg of the sofa. His covering was ripped away. He stood with his metal encased, flaccid cock dangling about his legs.
Draco smirked. “I hope you knew the person well who left you the anxiometer.”
“What? Why?”
“Because that person would have set a password that would allow the resizing of the device. Without the password, Potter, it’ll have to be cut off.”
Harry’s mouth moved, but no sound left his lips.
Draco snorted. “Not your penis, you berk. A surgeon would have to cut the anxiometer off your body.”
“Still…” Harry shuddered.
“So… password. Flick your wand over the top of the device, concentrate on enlarging the anxiometer, and try a few of the old owner’s favorite words or phrases.”
Harry picked up his wand and flicked it over his cock. He closed his eyes and thought about Mad-Eye. He smiled. Of course! He knew the exact phrase Mad-Eye Moody would have used. “Constant Vigilance!” he muttered.
Damn, his cock still felt a bit compressed. Harry squinted his eyes open and peered down. There had been no change.
From his seat on the couch, Malfoy choked.
Harry sent him as scathing a look as a naked man with an armored cock could muster.
Malfoy’s choking turned into a full out babbling laugh. A laugh complete with tears running down his cheeks. It lasted for several minutes.
When Malfoy finally pulled himself together, Harry scowled at him and asked, “What is so bloody funny?”
“Did…” Malfoy took a shuddering breath. “Did that thing come from Mad-Eye Moody?”
Without letting go of his scowl, Harry nodded. “It belonged to Mad-Eye.”
Draco was grinning like a fool. “Oh, doesn’t this get better all the time?” He gave Harry an appraising look. “So, not only did you attach a magical object to your cock, but said magical object belonged to that berk, Moody.” He held up a hand before Harry could protest (not that there was anything to protest about). “Really, Potter, if you thought it was some sort of wanking device, would you not have also considered that Mad-Eye would have used it on his own dick? Tell me, was it a turn-on for you to think you were sticking your cock in the same hole Moody had used?”
Harry covered his face with his hands and sunk once more to the floor. “I obviously didn’t think it through,” he said. Uncovering his face, he looked up at Malfoy. “What exactly is this thing for anyway?”
“It’s similar to a sneakoscope, but tells if anyone around you is nervous.” Malfoy smiled and said, “It sizes itself to whatever body part the user wants to wear it on, and that’s usually the wrist or ankle. Aurors used to rely on them thinking that a guilty person would be more anxious than an innocent one. They went out of favor when too many high-strung individuals were wrongly accused of crimes.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Harry said. “I was interrogating a prisoner yesterday and the thing went really wonky. I even…” Harry stopped himself before he let slip too much information.
“You what?” Malfoy’s eyes glittered. “Did you come in your pants?”
Harry turned away and ran a hand through his hair. “But, wait,” he said after several moments. “The thing went off yesterday when I was talking to Neville. There’d be no reason for him to be nervous around me.”
“You might want to check his back room for the illegal potions ingredients he grows for black-market trade.”
“What? Neville. No!” Harry stuttered.
Malfoy shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “If this thing really goes off when people around me are anxious, how come it went so bloody crazy with you?” He watched as Malfoy’s face reddened.
“The thing must have a malfunction. Er… can you think of any other possible passwords?”
“No! I really didn’t know Moody well. But don’t change the subject,” Harry demanded. “Why would you be nervous around me? What are you hiding, Malfoy?”
Malfoy took a deep breath and turned to face Harry, his eyes held an odd gleam. “Do you really want to know what I’m hiding?” he asked. The anxiometer flared causing Harry to moan and his cock to twitch. Malfoy took a step toward Harry and then another, easily closing the distance between them in the small room. He knelt down directly in front of Harry and purred, “Be very sure you want to know.”
Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. Malfoy graced him with a lopsided grin before leaning forward and grazing his lips over Harry’s. Between the feel of Malfoy’s soft lips and the thrum of the anxiometer, Harry was hard again in moments. Malfoy pressed ahead further, mashing his lips against Harry’s and slithering his tongue into Harry’s mouth.
“Bloody. Fucking. Hell!” Harry pushed Malfoy away and glared.
Malfoy stood and smoothed his robes. He sneered down at Harry. “Even a Malfoy’s not good enough for you, is that it?”
“Don’t be a prat,” Harry said. “I didn’t say I don’t want you. But why the fuck would you wait until I can’t possibly perform to come on to me?”
Malfoy’s face softened as he grinned. “Let’s call it incentive.” He dropped to his knees and cupped the back of Harry’s head in his hands. “This is how it’ll work. I’m going to fuck you into this carpet and shoot my load into your hot arse. You, on the other hand, will get no release unless you come up with the password. See, incentive. Got it?”
Harry nodded, unable to trust his voice. His prick was exceptionally hard at the thought of being fucked by Malfoy. Too bad the anxiometer was no longer thrumming.
“Good. Now help me out of these clothes like a good little savior.”
Harry blindly located his wand behind him and with one flick divested Malfoy of his clothes. The blonde was as magnificent as Harry had always imagined he’d be: smooth pale skin, hairless except for the curls surrounding his cock.
“Well, that was romantic,” Malfoy hissed.
“Do you want roses or a fuck, Mal… er… Draco…”
“A fuck for now, roses later. On your knees, Harry.”
“What? Don’t want to see my lovely face as you fuck me?”
“We’ll save that for later, too. But for now, I don’t want one of your stray spells hitting my cock while you’re trying to remove the anxiometer.”
Well, that made sense. And, since there was a promise of more later, Harry flipped over and presented his bottom to Draco. He felt soft hands skim down his back to finally part his arse cheeks.
“Ministry idiots,” Harry mumbled, touching his wand to the metal menace. Nothing happened.
Harry felt the prod of cool wood on his entrance, heard Draco mutter a spell, and felt his entrance magically lubricated and stretched. He snorted. “Talk about unromantic. You know, manually is much more fun.”
Draco draped his body over Harry’s and whispered in his ear, “I’ve been waiting too long to stick my dick in you to worry about pleasantries.”
Harry shuddered. He reached for his cock only to brush his hand along cold metal. “Fuck!” He waved his wand again. Maybe Moody used the names of some of his fellow Aurors. “Nymphodora Tonks.” Nothing.
Draco pushed his cock head against Harry’s entrance. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring a woman into sex with us.”
Harry would have snorted, but Draco’s cock entering him in one slow slide took his breath away.
Wand swish. “Kingsley Shackelbolt”
Nothing.
“Now there’s a fine arse,” Draco said. He began thrusting in long hard strokes, just how Harry liked to be fucked. Harry bucked back against the next thrust and was rewarded by a groan from Draco.
He couldn’t remember any more Aurors that worked with Moody ten years ago.
Draco’s cock slid over Harry’s prostate. Harry roared in frustration.
“Keep. Thinking. Potter…” Draco rasped. “Won’t last long.” His strokes sped up.
Wand swish. “White Ferret.”
Draco paused in his thrusts only long enough to smack Harry’s arse. Harry moaned.
“Like a little pain with your pleasure, Harry? I’ll remember that.”
True to his word, Draco was now pounding Harry into the carpet. If it weren’t for the fact he had to remain on his knees to have access to the anxiometer, Harry would have collapsed onto his belly several thrusts ago. Gods, he was aching. He needed release.
Shaky wand swish. “Death Eater scum.”
The anxiometer fell to the floor with a metallic clang. Harry grabbed his abused cock and pulled once, twice, before coming all over his own hand. Behind him, Draco’s thrusts became erratic. “Harry,” Draco moaned as he pulsed into Harry’s body.
Harry collapsed onto the floor taking Draco down with him. After several minutes of nothing but deep breathing and the settling of pounding hearts, Draco murmured, “Death Eater scum, eh? Moody always did have a way with words.”
Harry found enough energy to chuckle, but it was a while before either man found the energy to disentangle from the other and stand. As they were getting dressed, Draco picked up the anxiometer and cast Scourgify on it. The blonde then fit the device over his own cock. It shrunk to fit snugly around his girth.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Draco shrugged. “I heard you’re afraid of the London Eye… oh… that is rather nice, isn’t it?”
“What are you thinking? I am not going on that wretched Muggle death trap just so you can get your jollies,” Harry spluttered.
Draco moaned and grinned, his eyes half-hooded as he watched Harry. “Merlin, you are scared of it, aren’t you? If you’re getting this nervous just thinking about it, I wonder how close we’ll get to it before I come.” He grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “Come on, Potter, do this for me and tomorrow I’ll show you how frightened I am of wasps.”
fin