Sequel: Mastercard
Title: Mastercard
Rating: I say R but I think my fic-o-meter is out of wack, so lets say NC17
Beta: Aurora_1301
Warnings: suggestion of boy!love (slash, m/m), language (he still swears like a sailor), blowjob (sucking a stranger’s lollypop), OAP!Flirting
Disclaimer: JK wrote 7 books of Harry Potter, sold billions of copies in 64 different languages and you think I own it?! I struggled writing this sequel and my beta was appalled at my spelling! Poor student here, I do own the plot, regular Joe (Bob), and the cat and OAP!Mildred belongs to my prequel beta. Also don't own Starbucks, but I have owned their coffee only after I paid for it!
Characters: Regular Joe (Bob), Mind the cat, OAP!Mildred, spotty!Barista, queue lady, Harry Potter and rentboy!Draco
SUMMARY: Hermione thinks its slavery, Ron pretends he doesn’t know about it, Draco thinks it’s a competition and Harry thinks it’s worth the cost.
**
Harry stood in the mirror, trying to tame part of his fringe into place. It was as wild as ever, and he didn’t know why most people insisted that it was somehow sexy because Harry thought it looked like a nest for raccoons. Grabbing his wand, Harry tried to spell the unruly hair flat. A blue light shimmered over the strands, wafting them as if in a breeze and then…nothing.
“Hmm…definitely an improvement,” said Hermione. Harry looked at her coming into the kitchen of Grimmauld House.
“It makes me look more sophisticated, doesn’t it,” he agreed cheekily, turning his head from side to side and trying again to tame that bit of fringe back over his scar.
“I don’t see why you make such an effort - he will like you whatever you look like,” she said, her unvoiced ‘because you pay him to’ was loud and clear. He ignored her.
“Maybe I should wear my blue shirt today…” mused Harry turning his attention to his clothes. Clothes were important, if he wore something that was ‘a crime against drag queens everywhere’ then he wouldn’t gain admittance. Ignoring the exasperated expression on his best friend’s face, he jogged up the stairs to change his shirt.
Harry threw off his navy blue polo shirt and replaced it with a simplistic, but what he considered to be ultimately stylish because he had seen him wear it, white oxford shirt. Feeling that this would do, Harry checked the money in his wallet, and left.
As he made his way downstairs, he poked his head into Ron and Hermione’s room, seeing a sprawled lump of covers on the bed with a ginger mop poking out the top. “I’m going now Ron, see you tonight?”
The covers moved and a blurry Ron sat up, rubbing his face free of spittle. “We booked the reservations at Murleys,” reminded Ron, “You will be there, won’t you?”
“What time did you reserve for?”
“Nine.”
“Then yeah, I will be there. I will be back at half eight.” Assured Harry. Ron sighed and shook his head.
“Alright then. See you later. Don’t spend too much money - you're paying for the desert tonight, and I want a gateau. Chocolate one,” insisted Ron, grinning.
“Okay,” agreed Harry, “Bye.”
Downstairs Hermione was waiting for him with her arms crossed. “There are a million good reasons why you shouldn’t do this.”
“And you seem to like to tell me a new one every time I step out of the house - what will it be today? God doesn’t agree? Voldemort would have laughed if he could see me now? What, Hermione, what this time?” snapped Harry.
Hermione didn’t look impressed with his outburst. She merely held out his coat and said plainly, “It's like slavery. As a SPEW member, you should be ashamed.” Harry groaned, taking his coat and fleeing before she bribed another donation out of him.
**
Finally getting to the top floor, panting and leaning over the stair rail to catch his breath, Harry wondered why such an expensive apartment building didn’t have a working lift. After three minutes dying, Harry straightened up and walked down to the first door with number ‘23’ stamped in gold letters. Well, 2 was gold and 3 was silver because ‘both numbers couldn’t possibly be experiencing the same financial profit at the same time’. Straightening his shirt, Harry reached one hand out and rang the doorbell. He could hear it echoing inside, and then heard a stream of muffled cursing from inside the complex. He rang the doorbell a couple more times, just to anger the inhabitant and listen to the truly creative vocabulary sounding through the wood.
A moment later the door swung open and there stood, in blue jeans so far down his hips that he was showing not only a snail trail but the top of the rest of his hair, a buttoned up grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and looking too small in the length because of the way it had ridden up his stomach, was Draco Malfoy. “Are you coming in?”
“Where’s your tie?”
“In the wash. In or out?” asked Draco, a pale eyebrow raised questioningly, holding out a hand. Harry smirked the smirk of the man opposite and stepped over the threshold, grabbing the offered limb.
**
“I need a shower,” stated Draco from his position against the front door. He then glanced at Harry, “And so do you - scank. Seriously, did you purposely douse yourself in sweat before you came here?”
“The lift wasn’t working! It's your fault for living on the top floor,” said Harry, stretching on the wood floor, leaving little streak marks of perspiration.
“It's has nice view,” defended Draco. Harry watched him get to his feet and plod off to the bedroom’s en suite, his gorgeous bottom bouncing out of his view from the floor. The sound of water and steam began to billow through the bedroom door.
“HURRY UP POTTER! I refuse to do the naked pretzel with you when you smell like a racoon has nested in your hair!”
Harry smiled and stood up, walking nude through the apartment and into the en suite. Steam was pouring out of the glass cubical where the door had been left slightly ajar. Still smiling, Harry stepped inside, pressing himself up against the warm naked body inside.
“Took your time,” Draco continued rinsing his hair off and Harry just pressed against him, watching the shampoo suds run over down the
toned flesh.
“I want a -“
“You're not getting anything until you wash.” Stated Draco, turning them until Harry was trapped under the hot spray. When he blinked through the mist, he saw Draco holding out a bottle of shower gel to him. Harry smirked.
“Don’t smile like that, this is for washing. Not for lubrication. Wash.”
“I'll wash once you suck me.”
“I'll suck you once you wash.” Harry rolled his eyes but complied, squeezing out a handful of vanilla scented shower gel and began cleaning himself up. Draco merely watched with a smirk that made Harry feel very self-conscious.
As soon as the soap was swirling down the plughole, Draco’s knees cracked loudly against the porcelain floor. “I’m clean. Get to it.”
“You could ease up on my hair,” suggested Draco, one hand running up the length of Harry’s cock, pulling the foreskin over the head and down again. Harry tightened his grip on the blonde strands in spite. My poor follicles, sighed Draco, straightening his back to reach properly as Potter was slightly taller than he was.
Hooking one hand around Harry’s right leg and digging his fingernails into the back of Harry’s inner thigh, hoping to leave little bloody crescents in the smooth skin, Draco leaned forward and ran his hot tongue along the jutting erection.
Draco would admit he liked to tease. As far as he was concerned, Potter was just another client. But whenever he had to give the specky git a blowjob, it brought back his competitive nature from Hogwarts. He had to beat Harry Potter, Golden Boy, Gryffindork. Tease him mercilessly until he yelled out in surrender.
Even more unfortunate for Harry than him being an enormous tease, was that by now Draco was extremely familiar with what Potter liked. So the way his tongue was protruding from his mouth to lash and flicker over the angry red head, then taking it between his lips to suck on ever so lightly before pulling away, was making the other man very twitchy. “Draco…”
A few more minutes of senseless teasing, Draco felt the thigh under his nails tense and a predictable rocking of hips begin. He let his teeth ‘accidentally’ graze the flesh in his mouth and was almost knocked off balance when he was suddenly forced to take a lot. Hs gag reflex fully suppressed since he started this job meant that he didn’t choke to death as his throat was violated.
Water pelted off Harry’s chest and landed on Draco’s cheeks, making Harry appreciate the aesthetic illusion of his slut crying. It felt dirty, and Harry already knew that the price for real tears was quite steep, so he contented himself with rolling his hips into the soft strong mouth and fixating on the water droplets pooling down under the pale chin.
Draco allowed his face to be battered, tonguing at the heavy blue vein and not worrying about the way his teeth continued to scrape against sensitive flesh. It certainly didn’t seem to be bothering his client who was bucking about like a fish on dry land. A keening noise alerted Draco and he pulled away a little so he could catch the hot spurts of cum. After a moment or two, Harry stepped away and put one hand to the edge of Draco’s mouth, feeling. “Not a drop spilled. Such a good whore. Swallow.”
Draco swallowed the salty solution, feeling it slid down his raw throat and almost settle badly in his stomach. He was hauled up against Potter’s chest, his knees creaking a little. “Kiss me,” demanded Harry, “I want to taste myself on you.”
Liar, you just want to smooch. “Hmm…” hummed Draco sensuously, leaning forward, bringing his hands up and pressing his thumbs over to Harry’s lips so they could not open. He licked a strip of those quivering lips between his thumbs and pulled away. “I’m hungry,” stated Draco, smirking. He turned tail and left the shower. Harry blinked, and licked his lips. Salty.
**
“Another go?” asked Draco, coming back into the living room carrying a stack of toast on a plate. He dropped on the sofa next to Harry and began to eat leisurely.
“Another go?” repeated Harry, his eyes wide in horror, “How can you be ready to go again!?”
“Two reasons,” stated Draco. He took a bite of toast and took his time chewing it, swallowing it and licking his fingers clean of butter before continuing, “I have only come once today. And I have sex for a living, so of course I have stamina of a hippogriff.” Draco smirked and went back to his breakfast.
“As if. I bet you can only keep it up because you take potions,” laughed Harry. Draco’s toast dropped back on his plate, his whole body frozen. Harry stopped laughing and studied the statue beside him.
“Did you just insinuate that I use SEX POTIONS!!!” squealed Draco with horror. Harry went to speak but Draco held up his hand to cut him off. He stood up, putting his toast on the coffee table and stated, “I have never been so insulted in all my life. Even when I was called a ferret!” and then he stomped off to his bedroom, a loud lock signalling his displeasure. Harry’s lips merely twitched a bit and he leant forward, picking up the abandoned breakfast and tucked in.
“What if I said I think you dye your hair?!” yelled Harry. A squawk sounded through the bedroom door. “I think you even dye below the belt because that cannot be natural!”
“That's it, out of my house!” screamed Draco, storming with such drama only accomplished by someone who perfected it in the cradle, “you think you are EVER getting another appointment, you have another thing coming! OUT!” Harry finished off the toast, licking his lips and leaned back into the sofa, the empty plate balanced on his stomach.
“Oh shut up. Just charge me for it. Now, come here. Feeling more energetic after that toast.”
“Stealing my breakfast. I should charge you for that too.”
“Whatever. On your knees.”
**
“Do you ever get tired of this job?” asked Harry, pulling one of the cushions into his lap for some propriety. Draco, splayed in all his naked glory on the carpet between the sofa and coffee table, laughed.
“What a stupid question. That’s not even worth my time answering. So, taking me to lunch?”
“Erm…okay…”
“Good, because I want a coffee.”
“You have a coffee machine.”
“Nothing beats coffee-coffee,” stated Draco like it was a universal fact.
**
The old café that could not really compete with the Starbucks two streets over was quaint and quiet with plenty of seating…Harry wanted to go in there.
Draco promptly dragged them around to coffee corporation, where people where squeezing through the door to get into a long queue. The queue apparently didn’t apply to Draco though. He grabbed Harry’s hand as they entered and proceeded to weave in and out of the line, managing to get them up to the counter.
“Hey, you pushed!” Draco turned his eyes on the woman and gave her a wide fake smile, big puppy-dog eyes and took her hand. The poor woman looked dazed.
“So sorry. I just need to pass a message to a friend who works here, I promise not to hold you up. Forgive me terribly?”
“O-of course.” Draco gave her another knicker-shifting smile and dropped her limb, smirking at Harry and stepping up to the counter.
“Mildred!” cried Draco loudly, grabbing the attention of an elderly woman with iron grey curly hair dressed in a green apron.
“Draco!” she purred. Harry shivered.
“I am going to die, Mil! Die. I have not drank coffee since yesterday! You might as well cremate me in the espresso machine,” he whined, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. Mildred, obviously pushing sixty, leaned across the counter and pinched his cheeks, then running her hands through the blonde hair affectionately. Harry wanted to chop her old spindly fingers off.
“Aww bless you, almost starved to death too - have you had breakfast?”
“No. it was stolen.”
“Aww my poor thing. I will get you a muffin. What coffee do you want this morning?” she asked, grabbing a cardboard cup and pen.
“Venti caramel mocha with three extra shots of espresso with a cookie crumbled into it. And two of those little wooden stick things. Please. Potter, what are you getting?”
“Erm…a coffee.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Black or milky?”
“Black,” said Harry. Draco nodded to Mildred who grabbed another cup and scribbled down ‘Americano’. See passed the graffitied cups to a younger employee, the spotty barista began filling them up with rich brown liquids. Mildred was bagging a muffin and then demanding an obscene amount of money for what was bought, but Harry handed over the money all the same.
With a quick wink to Mildred, and the woman who was now being served, they went and found a small table among the crowd. “Seriously, did you have to buy the most expensive drink here?”
“I'll have you know my muffin was free,” said Draco, pulling it out of the bag with wide excited eyes that belonged on a five year old.
“Hmm…You never…with Mildred…?”
“Good lord no! You think she can afford it working here?!” That wasn’t quite the reason Harry was looking for, and he scrunched his nose up.
**
“Ready to go?”
“I need to pee,” said Harry, abandoning his coffee cup and heading to the gents.
“Such a charmer,” sighed Draco dreamily, waltzing after him. Harry was already at a urinal, a steady stream hitting the white porcelain while Draco continued to chatter, “Do you think Muggles can’t do maths? I mean, all their money is in tens. It must be like adding ones and then putting the naughts back on after you’ve got the total. Imagine having to dumb down your whole currency system just because your race is retarded by default - if they had magic -“
Harry had finished during this ramble and had gone over to wash his hands. When he looked at Draco again, he was overcome with desire. Draco was admiring his own reflection in the mirror, preening at it like a parrot in a cage, looking ethereal and looking perfect.
Teeth clashed together while Harry twisted blonde hair between his fingers tightly, delving his tongue between soft lips to taste the caramel and coffee that this beautiful man had drunk before. This is heaven, thought Harry, wrapping one arm around Draco’s waist and flushing their bodies together.
Harry was so caught up in the moment that when he finally came up for air with a silly smile of peace on his flushed face, he didn’t notice the fist flying towards him.
**
“You may be rich Potter, but even you cant afford that,” said Draco, globbing the healing balm on Harry’s eye. They had Apparated back to Draco’s apartment.
“How much is a kiss then?” asked Harry, moving to grab the other man. Draco allowed himself to be pulled closer, but only to continue applying the cream to the purple patch.
“There is no point even asking for the price, it's too much.”
“I will give you whatever you want - a thousand galleons.”
“Nope.”
“Ten thousand.”
“Nope.”
“A hundred thousand!”
“Nope. Lift your chin up.”
“A trillion!”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Oh come on. I will give you all the money I own.”
“And then I would ask for one Knut more, just because then I know you couldn’t afford it. Leave off Potter, I’m not going to kiss you.”
“Why not?!” snapped Harry, frustrated and leaning up to try and capture those lips again but Draco kept evading.
“Because rentboys don’t do kisses. We prefer blowjobs - want to give me one?” asked Draco, waggling his eyebrows. Harry groaned and gave up trying to kiss him. He fell back against the pillows and allowed his eye to be tended to by soft, agile fingers.
**
Harry jumped an absolute mile when the doorbell rang loudly through the apartment. He frowned and looked at Draco. “If I’m here…”
Draco rolled his eyes and stood up, going to the front door. Harry followed, curious. Standing on the other side of the door was a man in his early forties, he was tall and stocky but with a full head of hair and a chiselled jaw. He would probably be the kind of guy who attracted all the mums in the playground. He screamed family man, so did the ring on his left hand. Harry wanted to know why Draco suddenly draped himself against the doorframe, looking like a piece of chocolate. “Hi Bob.”
“Bob?” repeated the man, he then spotted Harry and a look of understanding came over his face. “Oh right. Erm, yes…so I’m here for an appointment.”
“Right, come in. Sit down, I need to get my book.” Draco let the family man, who had the audacity to walk straight past Harry and sit on the beige sofa. Draco closed the door and walked off to the bedroom. Harry stared at ‘Bob’ for a moment, then went after Draco.
“Who is he?!” snapped Harry, grabbing Draco by the wrist which was holding the date-diary. “And why is he here now?! This is my time - I don’t pay for you to be with other people!”
“He’s only here to book an appointment, calm down. He’s just a client.”
Harry pushed the blonde against the wall, hissing into his calm face, “You are MINE! Tell him to fuck off. Now! Who is he anyway? What’s his real name? He’s married - I'll tell his wife, see how -“
“Will you shut up!” snapped Draco, pressing himself away from the wall and into Harry’s chest. “I am only yours for as long as you pay for it. I have other clients, get over it! And you will not go blabbing to anyone about ‘Bob’ because that's confidential! I don’t tell the newspapers that Harry Potter, a washed-up sex maniac comes to me five times a week! So get the fuck out of my way.” Draco pushed Harry aside and went into the living room.
Harry followed Draco back into the living room and leaned against the open counter of kitchen, glaring at the two on the sofa arranging a time. Once Bob left, Draco turned his attention back to Harry. “That was really rude.”
“I don’t care. I don’t like him.” stated Harry. Draco shrugged and walked over to Harry, plastering himself to the Gryffindor’s chest, but Harry was still pissed. Really pissed. Harry threw Draco away harshly where his back cracked loudly against the countertop.
“What’s your fucking problem Potter?” asked Draco, rubbing his spine.
“What do you think the fucking problem is? I saw you slutting it up to that man, it's sickening. Acting like a filthy -“
“Whore?” suggested Draco, raising an eyebrow. “I think somewhere along the way you forget what I am. That money doesn’t disappear out of your Gringotts account for no reason. You're more dense than I thought if you think you are my only client.”
“What if I buy Thursday and Sunday too?” suggested Harry rashly, “That way you wouldn’t have to degrade yourself any longer.”
“Oh right, because being your sex toy isn’t degrading either - I should be honoured that the great Harry Potter wants to impale me with his huge -“
“That's not what I meant! I just meant that wouldn’t it be better to have me as like…I don’t know, a sugar daddy than having to touch those revolting old men - that guy was practically eighty!” exclaimed Harry, waving his arms about, “Besides…I like the idea of seeing you all week, we could add two more days to what we normally do, right?”
“Sure…except the only reasons you don’t come the other two days is because you're off pretending to be a retired hero! Got to keep up that public image of sexy boy wonder bachelor.”
“Fuck the media. Come home with me.”
“…did you just ask me to move in with you?”
“Erm, yes.”
“No. Definitely not! Look, lets get something straight,” ordered Draco, wagging a finger up in front of Harry’s nose. “One. I am a rentboy. You rent me, you do not own me! Two, I am not ashamed of who I am - I like to fuck and I like getting money for fucking. Simple. Now…want to have more sex?”
**
“Say you're mine!”
“Fuck you!”
**
It was 8.20 and Harry’s time was closing to an end. They lay together in the bedroom listening to Mind, the grey kitten that struck Harry as the perfect pet for the Slytherin prince, scratching his nails along the wall paper under the windowsill.
“I don’t want to leave you.” Said Harry, pushing the hair back from those oh-so-grey eyes.
“Going to splurge on another hour then?” asked Draco, leaning across for his date-diary. Harry stopped him and made him lie back down so he could continue playing with that blonde hair.
“No, I have to go to dinner,” there was a long pause as Harry contemplated what it would be like to have a normal relationship with the man next to him, “be my date?”
“You want to take your rentboy to dinner?” asked Draco. He then barked out a laugh, “And who would we be double dating with?”
“Ron and Hermione.”
“Oh, well then I'll starve.” Stated Draco, stretching out on the sheets like an angel going to spread it's wings and lift off. Harry huffed and stood up, looking for his trousers.
“Fine. whatever. How much do I owe you for today?”
“Let me get my calculator, I'll make you a receipt. Shall I book you in for next week while I'm at it?”
**
Harry finished writing his letter to Remus and dropped the quill on scroll, massaging his hand when Hermione yelled up the stairs, “ARE YOU READY! THE TABLE IS FOR NINE! HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR YOU TO CHANGE?!”
Harry pulled out his wand and with a quick flick of the wrist, had his sweaty crinkled clothes changed for a smart black suit, minus tie with the top button of the silky blue shirt gaping open. Standing up, his eye caught the lengthily receipt sitting next to his letter.
Without much thought, he grabbed the quill and lent down, adding his own handwriting to the bottom of the receipt.
DM Escort service - Saturday 11th May 2006 (9.00 am - 8.30 pm)
G=galleons, S = Sickles, K = Knuts
Charged amounts:
60G - sex on arrival
30G - Penalty: Injury sustained while fucking against front door, damn knob.
20G - Blowjob in shower
50G - penalty: almost drowned!
44G - Penalty: two insults - 20 galleons for emotional abuse to my hair (naturally blonde, thank you very much), 24 galleons, for implying I use Viagra
6S - Penalty: stealing my toast
600G - penalty: kissing me - that’ll teach you!
4S - Ointment for eye
166G - sex marathon (3hrs - 2 fucks, 1 rim, 1 bj)
162G:14S:14K - Service fee for wasting my bloody weekend
Subtotal: 1132 Galleons, 14 Sickles, 20 Knuts.
Refunded amounts:
22G - for not wearing my tie
14S - flirting with OAP for coffee and muffins
30G - conducting business transaction with other client in your presence (jealous git)
56G: 10S: 18K (5%) - regular client discount
Total: 1023 Galleons, 7 Sickles, 2 Knuts
Fucking my crush - Priceless
Fin.
****
How much Draco costs in muggle money
Prequel: Tatty Ties and Frenching Thighs
Next part: Addicted
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