Fic Rec: Small Spaces by bixgirl1
Title: Small Spaces
Author: bixgirl1
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3300
Warnings:Elevator Sex, Frustration, accidental magic, handjobs, Blowjobs, Post War, Ministry of Magic
Summary: Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.
Why I loved it: This is such an unexpected fic, that I didn't know I needed in my life. I love the idea that Harry's magic goes wonky around Draco - to me that's just such an original premise! And honestly, my fav. part was really the ending with Ron in the conversation. That flowed so smoothly and it's just hilarious and perfect and omg, I'm dead.
Excerpt(optional): READ BELOW
[I dont have lack of control]“I don’t have a lack of control,” Harry muttered when the silence had gone on for too long. He looked away. “My control is fine.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Malfoy said slowly, and it felt like a taunt.
Harry looked at him again, startled. “Control is a good thing, Malfoy. You should try it.”
Malfoy cracked a laugh, low and amused. The sound bounced off the walls around them and something disconcertingly warm curled in Harry’s belly. “That’s the one thing, Potter, no one could accuse me of not having these days.”
“Why are you even working here, Malfoy?” Harry tried again, modulating his tone, trying for polite. It wasn’t easy. Every time Malfoy was near him, he wanted to yell at the other man, wanted to brandish his wand or pull Malfoy’s hair like he was a six-year-old on the playground. It was ten fucking years of conditioning, and Harry didn’t know how to get over it. Or even if he wanted to. The fact that he was suddenly, achingly hard had nothing to do with it.
“I need a job, and this is the safest place right now,” Malfoy said simply, surprising him, leaning against the wall of the lift, draping one leg over the other. “In a few years, there will be more options for me.”
“Safest place?” Harry asked grudgingly. Malfoy tilted his head, a little smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Except for being around you, apparently. Tell me, Potter, how often do these little bouts occur when I’m not around?”
Harry flushed. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Oh, don’t you? Hm.”
Harry took a threatening step forward. “What does that mean? You think I’m a going to do something to you?”
Malfoy’s eyes dilated as Harry came closer. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move from his lazy pose. “Are you?”
“Maybe,” Harry growled furiously, blood rushing in his ears. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’ll end up hurting you, Malfoy.”
Malfoy’s smirk widened into a sly smile. “Who says I’m opposed to that, Potter?”
Author: bixgirl1
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3300
Warnings:Elevator Sex, Frustration, accidental magic, handjobs, Blowjobs, Post War, Ministry of Magic
Summary: Malfoy is like an itch under Harry's skin on an average day. It's even worse when they're trapped in a lift.
Why I loved it: This is such an unexpected fic, that I didn't know I needed in my life. I love the idea that Harry's magic goes wonky around Draco - to me that's just such an original premise! And honestly, my fav. part was really the ending with Ron in the conversation. That flowed so smoothly and it's just hilarious and perfect and omg, I'm dead.
Excerpt(optional): READ BELOW
[I dont have lack of control]“I don’t have a lack of control,” Harry muttered when the silence had gone on for too long. He looked away. “My control is fine.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Malfoy said slowly, and it felt like a taunt.
Harry looked at him again, startled. “Control is a good thing, Malfoy. You should try it.”
Malfoy cracked a laugh, low and amused. The sound bounced off the walls around them and something disconcertingly warm curled in Harry’s belly. “That’s the one thing, Potter, no one could accuse me of not having these days.”
“Why are you even working here, Malfoy?” Harry tried again, modulating his tone, trying for polite. It wasn’t easy. Every time Malfoy was near him, he wanted to yell at the other man, wanted to brandish his wand or pull Malfoy’s hair like he was a six-year-old on the playground. It was ten fucking years of conditioning, and Harry didn’t know how to get over it. Or even if he wanted to. The fact that he was suddenly, achingly hard had nothing to do with it.
“I need a job, and this is the safest place right now,” Malfoy said simply, surprising him, leaning against the wall of the lift, draping one leg over the other. “In a few years, there will be more options for me.”
“Safest place?” Harry asked grudgingly. Malfoy tilted his head, a little smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Except for being around you, apparently. Tell me, Potter, how often do these little bouts occur when I’m not around?”
Harry flushed. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”
“Oh, don’t you? Hm.”
Harry took a threatening step forward. “What does that mean? You think I’m a going to do something to you?”
Malfoy’s eyes dilated as Harry came closer. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move from his lazy pose. “Are you?”
“Maybe,” Harry growled furiously, blood rushing in his ears. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’ll end up hurting you, Malfoy.”
Malfoy’s smirk widened into a sly smile. “Who says I’m opposed to that, Potter?”