Just A Little Taste
Fandom- Harry Potter
Disclaimer- J.K owns the boys. I just write down random shit involving crazy situations. And make no money whatsoever. Or I'd own a yacht.
Title- Just A Little Taste
Author- Sisika
Beta- None
Pairing- H/D
Warning- Slash (Yeah, that's right, shirt lifters! Fudge packers! All that rot! If you don't like it, go away.) WIP. But will be updated every 2 days or so.
Rating- Pretty tame right now... But let me warn you, there will be a lot of hot boy sex coming.
Just A Little Taste
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Chapter 1 (1/6)
“That needs more coriander in it, you muppet! If you think you’re doing me a favour by being in this kitchen, I can assure you, you fucktard, you’re not needed.”
The man, at whom this tirade was directed, turned visibly frightened eyes to his head chef. And my, he wished he hadn’t looked.
Blazing aluminium eyes, almost mercury-like in their texture, and nature. Straight roman nose with a slight tilt at the end, high cheekbones, and skin like silk stretched over them, thin lips that could be transformed with a smile, and the most adorable pointy chin all pointed towards him like an arsenal of weapons.
Weapons like the ones that Downey guy made in Iron Man. What a film...
And before he knew it, he’d lost his job.
***
Draco knew exactly how much sugar, spice, and everything nice, needed to be added to a dish, to make it exactly perfect.
Hell, he’d probably be able to do a better job of the Powerpuff girls than that Professor guy.
Then, maybe, they’d have fingers.
Draco shook his head once, twice. Hoping that maybe he’d be able to shake his bizarre obsession with muggle cartoons then. Maybe, then, he’d get laid.
***
Harry sat on the edge of the sofa, clutching at it with his blunt nails, scared to open his eyes, yet scared to keep them closed any longer. In the end, he went for a compromise.
He switched the telly off.
“What, no hot date?”
Harry smiled. His soul mate had come home. “What, no life?”
Draco chuckled and dropped his bag of food (stolen from the restaurant) onto the kitchen counter. “Dinner.”
“You’re late.” Draco sighed and summoned the plates.
“Fired Adams. Idiot. It’s Indian cooking. If it doesn’t hit you in the face with flavours, or doesn’t enchant you with subtle seduction, it’s not Indian.” And then added as a sort of after though, so as to not offend the other great cuisines, “Or any other sort of cooking really.”
“You talk about food like normal people talk about lovers.”
Draco looked up into Harry’s eyes. Immediately accepting the unsaid challenge. “When I take a bite of food, the flavours should be so exquisite, so married and so good together, it should be as though for one moment I am in ecstasy. An orgasm, a vagina can’t give. “ Draco eyes, had again taken on their mercury like avatar, and his voice had unconsciously dropped to a whisper.
Harry smiled, his eyes almost black with lust, a painful erection in his trousers. He then hastily excused himself to the toilet.
Oh yes, his soul mate.
***