Rec: fic: hd_career_fair - It's a Dirty Job [H/D, 9k, NC-17]
There's so much I want to talk about after London, but I'm afraid my post meet-up squee post has to wait until tomorrow.
But what can't wait until tomorrow is this rec.
Somebody wrote a brilliant, brilliant fic for my chimney-sweep!Draco prompt at the hd_career_fair! It is everything I imagined and more.
This fic is funny in exactly the way I love it and it's totally hot. I also love all the details the author came up with for how Floo-network maintenance works (and how Floo powder tastes *g*). And OMG, sex in a fireplace! With soot-covered Draco! You just have to read it!
Title: It’s a Dirty Job
Author: fireflavored
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry Potter wakes up after a night of debauchery to discover that he has a new employee.
Warnings: Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it rimming, an unconscionable number of ‘chimney’ references
Word Count: ~9,000
His hands drifted down his chest, scraping over his nipples lightly before continuing down his stomach to his groin. Harry rubbed lightly at the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, enjoying the rough tickle of the terry. He reached further between his legs, wrapping the flannel gently around his balls and shuddering as the free end floated down to graze his arse.
A loud crack rent the silence of the bathroom, causing Harry to squeeze himself painfully.
“Master is being summoned to the fire,” Kreacher croaked. “They is not wanting to leave a message.”
Harry sighed and dropped his flannel, tensing as it slipped between his legs and settled at the bottom of the tub.
“I’ll be right there, Kreacher,” he said, wondering whether he should consider the interruption a blessing or a curse. After all, he had been about to wank to thoughts about Draco Malfoy.
Harry stared balefully at his erection for a moment before heaving himself from the tub and wrapping a towel around his midsection. The towel did little to disguise his condition, and Harry decided it would serve the insistent bastard right.
He stomped back to the kitchen, trailing bathwater behind him and muttering the increasingly inventive insults he planned to use on whomever it was that was forcing him back to the fireplace.
“This had better be fucking good,” he snarled, as he strode into the kitchen. He skidded to a stop in horror as he recognised the blond head in the flames.
But what can't wait until tomorrow is this rec.
Somebody wrote a brilliant, brilliant fic for my chimney-sweep!Draco prompt at the hd_career_fair! It is everything I imagined and more.
This fic is funny in exactly the way I love it and it's totally hot. I also love all the details the author came up with for how Floo-network maintenance works (and how Floo powder tastes *g*). And OMG, sex in a fireplace! With soot-covered Draco! You just have to read it!
Title: It’s a Dirty Job
Author: fireflavored
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry Potter wakes up after a night of debauchery to discover that he has a new employee.
Warnings: Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it rimming, an unconscionable number of ‘chimney’ references
Word Count: ~9,000
His hands drifted down his chest, scraping over his nipples lightly before continuing down his stomach to his groin. Harry rubbed lightly at the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, enjoying the rough tickle of the terry. He reached further between his legs, wrapping the flannel gently around his balls and shuddering as the free end floated down to graze his arse.
A loud crack rent the silence of the bathroom, causing Harry to squeeze himself painfully.
“Master is being summoned to the fire,” Kreacher croaked. “They is not wanting to leave a message.”
Harry sighed and dropped his flannel, tensing as it slipped between his legs and settled at the bottom of the tub.
“I’ll be right there, Kreacher,” he said, wondering whether he should consider the interruption a blessing or a curse. After all, he had been about to wank to thoughts about Draco Malfoy.
Harry stared balefully at his erection for a moment before heaving himself from the tub and wrapping a towel around his midsection. The towel did little to disguise his condition, and Harry decided it would serve the insistent bastard right.
He stomped back to the kitchen, trailing bathwater behind him and muttering the increasingly inventive insults he planned to use on whomever it was that was forcing him back to the fireplace.
“This had better be fucking good,” he snarled, as he strode into the kitchen. He skidded to a stop in horror as he recognised the blond head in the flames.