Fic: 'The Jewel Thief and the Security Guard' Harry/Draco NC17
Title - The Jewel Thief and the Security Guard
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - nursedarry
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1,900
Characters/Pairings - Harry/Draco
Warnings/Kinks - EWE, Object Penetration, Slightly-Dub!Con, PWP,
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - Harry apprehends a thief, and takes justice into his own hands.
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Object Penetration (Unusual Object) from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
This is for cleo_jay ♥
Swinging his Maglite in his hand, Harry whistled off-key while he walked around, checking the museum was settled down for the night. In the aftermath of the war, it had been too difficult to stay in the world he loved, constantly hounded for a recount of what had happened that night. He hadn't disappeared, so much as stepped back. A Muggle job, and a flat in the Muggle part of London gave Harry the respite he needed, but kept him close enough to Diagon Alley that he could still get the Daily Prophet and pop into Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes when he needed to.
Checking the fire doors were shut properly, Harry fell still when he heard footsteps. His colleagues were back in the control room, so Harry should have heard nothing but the rain. Flicking his torch on, he held it up to his shoulder and looked around the large room. Nothing moved, nothing twitched, but something didn't sit right with Harry. Turning his torch off, he reached out for the door, opening it and then pushing it shut with a bang. His shoes were still new, stiff enough that they didn't bend much, so as long as he picked his feet up properly, they were soundless on the varnished floor.
The next room along contained the Egyptian exhibit, and the museums flagship piece this month; the Pasha Diamond, on loan from the Egyptian Treasury. Harry had heard from colleagues in other museums that there was a jewel thief on the loose, but as yet no one had seen him, or come within a mile of catching him.
Slipping through the archway into the exhibit room, Harry saw a man dressed all in black - black leather trousers, black knitted top, black knitted hat. Then he saw the wand drawn, and without even thinking about it, Harry flung out his hand and yelled "Incarcerous!"
Casting the spell without his wand forced Harry's magic to improvise, and Harry saw his job rushing away from him as one of the mummies rose up and began spinning rapidly. Spinning, because the bandages were unravelling, shooting across the room to wrap around and around the masked man. And it was definitely a man - as if the height and build hadn't given it away, as the bandages swung the man around to face Harry, Harry saw an unmistakable bulge in the tight leather trousers.
Crossing the room quickly, Harry had one hand on his radio, ready to call in and demand the police, and the other stretched out in front of him. Reaching out, he grabbed the knit cap in his hand and pulled it off harshly, getting ready to give the culprit a mouthful of abuse.
"Hello, Potter."
Harry almost dropped his torch, he was that surprised. He'd suspected the thief was using magic somehow - how else would so many state-of-the-art security systems fail to trap him - but to see a face he knew, a face that had haunted his dreams even more frequently than Voldemort's, a face that he had followed for a large portion of his youth, knocked Harry for six every time. "What... what are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"It's mother's birthday next week, and I've been running a little low on gift ideas."
Considering he had been caught red-handed and was tied up and under Harry's wand, Malfoy seemed remarkably calm. In fact, the only part of him showing anything other than bored nonchalance was his leather-clad hard-on. Which Harry had looked at eight times in the past thirty seconds. "Do you maybe want to get rid of that?"
"Peril of the job, I'm afraid. The thrill of stealing from under these idiot Muggles' noses, the thrill of not being caught. Or being caught, as the case may be. You know, exactly like the thrill you get when you wank in the changing rooms with the door open, half-fearing, half-hoping you'll be caught."
Harry squeaked, immediately flashing his torch into Malfoy's face, so that none of the illumination could catch him and showcase the fact he was blushing. There was no way Malfoy could know that; it was a lucky guess at best.
"I must admit, you're a new thrill, Potter. So I suppose the question is, what are you going to do with me, now you have me tied up and under your wand? Call the police, even though we both know I'll have them Stunned before they can get out their pitiful restraints. Or finally do something about all that sexual tension you've been building up since we were fifteen?"
"What?!" Harry hated how high-pitched his voice sounded, and immediately tried to cover it up by forcing gruffness into his voice. "I don't know what you mean, Malfoy."
"Of course not. You followed me into the girls' bathroom for entirely noble reasons."
"Shut up, Malfoy, and let me think."
"Strenuous, is it?"
Harry growled, stepping closer to Malfoy's bound form and waving his torch threateningly. "Shut up, or this is going somewhere the sun doesn't shine."
The threat was designed to get Malfoy to shut up so that Harry could think. Exactly what there was to think about, he didn't know. This should have been a simple thing; radio back to the control room, get the police here, take Malfoy's wand and the bandages at the last possible moment, and then go home and applaud himself on a job well done. There should be no thinking, no debating taking justice into his own hands, and definitely, definitely no thinking about Malfoy's still erect penis. Even if it was brilliant to now have a picture reference for his deepest fantasies.
"Don't make threats you can't carry out, Potter." Malfoy accompanied that statement with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Harry forgot how to breathe.
"Why are you here?"
"I told you; the thieving of jewels. I have to admit, this is one of my better nights - generally the security guards are balding, middle-aged men who get out of breath lifting their torch. You're a definite improvement on the other museums and galleries."
"You'll go to jail."
"In that case, you should probably make good on your threat; we all know there's no sex in jail."
Harry couldn't bite back his dark chuckle. "You're in for a shock, then."
"Why?"
There was a slight tremor in Malfoy's voice, a slight tell of uncertainty, and the power of holding knowledge over Malfoy gave Harry a searing rush. Flipping his torch around in his hand, he let the moonlight streaming in through the windows provide the light as he flicked the torch off and waggled it threateningly. "In Muggle prisons, Malfoy, they trade pretty little boys like you for lunch. This torch would be one of the smaller things you'd have to take and enjoy."
Malfoy's eyes widened, and Harry stepped closer, reaching the torch out to stroke it down Malfoy's cheek. "Here's a hint for you; don't ever bend down for the soap."
"I don't... why not?"
The sudden innocence in Malfoy's tone was such a difference to the biting sarcasm of a few moments ago that Harry had to catch his breath. That rush of power was back, and Harry had a crazy, crazy idea. Somehow, in the time between this moment and pulling the balaclava off Malfoy's head, Harry had decided that he wasn't going to call for the police. It would achieve no ends, as Harry had no doubt Malfoy would have escaped before he was even processed. And Harry wasn't going to call the Aurors, because he knew that the Ministry would be unnecessarily harsh purely because of who Malfoy's father was. Which left Harry with very little in the way of options.
Eyeing his torch, Harry walked around Malfoy and flattened his hand on Malfoy's back. Pushing hard, Harry winced as he heard some of the bandages snap as he bent Malfoy forwards. "Here you are, innocently reaching down for the soap, to pick it up from the floor for the big, burly man who asked you to get it. Even you aren't stupid enough to refuse a man of that size."
Drawing his wand, Harry drew it down the cleft of Malfoy's arse, splitting the leather open.
"Potter! These trousers cost more than you'll earn in a lifetime!"
Harry barely registered Malfoy's indignant yell. He was too entranced by the base of a butt plug nestled between Malfoy's cheeks. Who the hell robbed jewels wearing a butt plug?
Reaching out, Harry ran his finger over the flat base of the plug, pushing against it gently. He felt, more than saw, the shiver that ran through Malfoy, and remembered the point he had been trying to prove. Closing his thumb and forefinger around the base of the plug, Harry pulled it out and tossed it to the floor. It was practically dripping with lube, so he felt no qualms about lifting his hand from his side, holding the torch out and pushing the base against Malfoy's slick entrance. Pushing it in slowly, Harry listened to Malfoy's breathing turn ragged as the first inch of the thick torch slipped into his arse. "And then the man will take whatever he wants. Mind, it looks like you'd enjoy that. Perhaps I should ring the police now, get you in prison before morning?"
Malfoy just grunted, and Harry pushed a little more of the torch into him. Sliding it back out, Harry thrust of forwards slowly, watching the moonlight bounce off the shiny black surface. He'd been thinking about this all day, and Harry let himself get lost in the steady in and out as he watched Malfoy's body shake. He was barely aware of Malfoy orgasming, or the tiny whimpers as Harry pushed him into overstimulation with the thrusting. The only thing that snapped him out of his reverie was the squawk of his radio.
"Foxtrot, Sierra. Current location, over."
"Bugger," Harry pulled the torch out and set it down on the floor, ending the spell on Malfoy with a wave of his wand as he reached for his radio. "Sierra, Foxtrot. Just checking the Egypt exhibit, over."
"Roger that. Taking your time, Foxtrot."
"Just being thorough, Sierra. Back in five. Foxtrot out."
Clipping his radio back onto his belt, Harry slapped Malfoy's hand away as it reached out for the diamond. "No. Not this one."
"Fine. I was thinking about hitting the Saatchi sometime next week."
Harry nodded, cleaning his torch off and sliding it back onto the ring on his belt. He watched Malfoy repair his trousers and cross over to the window Harry had left open. Harry followed him, tossing Malfoy's wand out of the window and down to him on the ground. Malfoy looked up at him briefly, then he was gone, disappeared into the shadows as Harry reached out and closed the window.
In the morning, Harry was going to request a transfer. And a few quick Obliviates should clear up any queries as to why he'd worked in six galleries in as many weeks. Harry had been right to suspect magic during that first theft, and his intuition had paid off dividends.
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - nursedarry
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1,900
Characters/Pairings - Harry/Draco
Warnings/Kinks - EWE, Object Penetration, Slightly-Dub!Con, PWP,
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - Harry apprehends a thief, and takes justice into his own hands.
Author's Notes - Told using the prompt Object Penetration (Unusual Object) from my kink_bingo claim card, which can be found here.
This is for cleo_jay ♥
Swinging his Maglite in his hand, Harry whistled off-key while he walked around, checking the museum was settled down for the night. In the aftermath of the war, it had been too difficult to stay in the world he loved, constantly hounded for a recount of what had happened that night. He hadn't disappeared, so much as stepped back. A Muggle job, and a flat in the Muggle part of London gave Harry the respite he needed, but kept him close enough to Diagon Alley that he could still get the Daily Prophet and pop into Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes when he needed to.
Checking the fire doors were shut properly, Harry fell still when he heard footsteps. His colleagues were back in the control room, so Harry should have heard nothing but the rain. Flicking his torch on, he held it up to his shoulder and looked around the large room. Nothing moved, nothing twitched, but something didn't sit right with Harry. Turning his torch off, he reached out for the door, opening it and then pushing it shut with a bang. His shoes were still new, stiff enough that they didn't bend much, so as long as he picked his feet up properly, they were soundless on the varnished floor.
The next room along contained the Egyptian exhibit, and the museums flagship piece this month; the Pasha Diamond, on loan from the Egyptian Treasury. Harry had heard from colleagues in other museums that there was a jewel thief on the loose, but as yet no one had seen him, or come within a mile of catching him.
Slipping through the archway into the exhibit room, Harry saw a man dressed all in black - black leather trousers, black knitted top, black knitted hat. Then he saw the wand drawn, and without even thinking about it, Harry flung out his hand and yelled "Incarcerous!"
Casting the spell without his wand forced Harry's magic to improvise, and Harry saw his job rushing away from him as one of the mummies rose up and began spinning rapidly. Spinning, because the bandages were unravelling, shooting across the room to wrap around and around the masked man. And it was definitely a man - as if the height and build hadn't given it away, as the bandages swung the man around to face Harry, Harry saw an unmistakable bulge in the tight leather trousers.
Crossing the room quickly, Harry had one hand on his radio, ready to call in and demand the police, and the other stretched out in front of him. Reaching out, he grabbed the knit cap in his hand and pulled it off harshly, getting ready to give the culprit a mouthful of abuse.
"Hello, Potter."
Harry almost dropped his torch, he was that surprised. He'd suspected the thief was using magic somehow - how else would so many state-of-the-art security systems fail to trap him - but to see a face he knew, a face that had haunted his dreams even more frequently than Voldemort's, a face that he had followed for a large portion of his youth, knocked Harry for six every time. "What... what are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"It's mother's birthday next week, and I've been running a little low on gift ideas."
Considering he had been caught red-handed and was tied up and under Harry's wand, Malfoy seemed remarkably calm. In fact, the only part of him showing anything other than bored nonchalance was his leather-clad hard-on. Which Harry had looked at eight times in the past thirty seconds. "Do you maybe want to get rid of that?"
"Peril of the job, I'm afraid. The thrill of stealing from under these idiot Muggles' noses, the thrill of not being caught. Or being caught, as the case may be. You know, exactly like the thrill you get when you wank in the changing rooms with the door open, half-fearing, half-hoping you'll be caught."
Harry squeaked, immediately flashing his torch into Malfoy's face, so that none of the illumination could catch him and showcase the fact he was blushing. There was no way Malfoy could know that; it was a lucky guess at best.
"I must admit, you're a new thrill, Potter. So I suppose the question is, what are you going to do with me, now you have me tied up and under your wand? Call the police, even though we both know I'll have them Stunned before they can get out their pitiful restraints. Or finally do something about all that sexual tension you've been building up since we were fifteen?"
"What?!" Harry hated how high-pitched his voice sounded, and immediately tried to cover it up by forcing gruffness into his voice. "I don't know what you mean, Malfoy."
"Of course not. You followed me into the girls' bathroom for entirely noble reasons."
"Shut up, Malfoy, and let me think."
"Strenuous, is it?"
Harry growled, stepping closer to Malfoy's bound form and waving his torch threateningly. "Shut up, or this is going somewhere the sun doesn't shine."
The threat was designed to get Malfoy to shut up so that Harry could think. Exactly what there was to think about, he didn't know. This should have been a simple thing; radio back to the control room, get the police here, take Malfoy's wand and the bandages at the last possible moment, and then go home and applaud himself on a job well done. There should be no thinking, no debating taking justice into his own hands, and definitely, definitely no thinking about Malfoy's still erect penis. Even if it was brilliant to now have a picture reference for his deepest fantasies.
"Don't make threats you can't carry out, Potter." Malfoy accompanied that statement with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Harry forgot how to breathe.
"Why are you here?"
"I told you; the thieving of jewels. I have to admit, this is one of my better nights - generally the security guards are balding, middle-aged men who get out of breath lifting their torch. You're a definite improvement on the other museums and galleries."
"You'll go to jail."
"In that case, you should probably make good on your threat; we all know there's no sex in jail."
Harry couldn't bite back his dark chuckle. "You're in for a shock, then."
"Why?"
There was a slight tremor in Malfoy's voice, a slight tell of uncertainty, and the power of holding knowledge over Malfoy gave Harry a searing rush. Flipping his torch around in his hand, he let the moonlight streaming in through the windows provide the light as he flicked the torch off and waggled it threateningly. "In Muggle prisons, Malfoy, they trade pretty little boys like you for lunch. This torch would be one of the smaller things you'd have to take and enjoy."
Malfoy's eyes widened, and Harry stepped closer, reaching the torch out to stroke it down Malfoy's cheek. "Here's a hint for you; don't ever bend down for the soap."
"I don't... why not?"
The sudden innocence in Malfoy's tone was such a difference to the biting sarcasm of a few moments ago that Harry had to catch his breath. That rush of power was back, and Harry had a crazy, crazy idea. Somehow, in the time between this moment and pulling the balaclava off Malfoy's head, Harry had decided that he wasn't going to call for the police. It would achieve no ends, as Harry had no doubt Malfoy would have escaped before he was even processed. And Harry wasn't going to call the Aurors, because he knew that the Ministry would be unnecessarily harsh purely because of who Malfoy's father was. Which left Harry with very little in the way of options.
Eyeing his torch, Harry walked around Malfoy and flattened his hand on Malfoy's back. Pushing hard, Harry winced as he heard some of the bandages snap as he bent Malfoy forwards. "Here you are, innocently reaching down for the soap, to pick it up from the floor for the big, burly man who asked you to get it. Even you aren't stupid enough to refuse a man of that size."
Drawing his wand, Harry drew it down the cleft of Malfoy's arse, splitting the leather open.
"Potter! These trousers cost more than you'll earn in a lifetime!"
Harry barely registered Malfoy's indignant yell. He was too entranced by the base of a butt plug nestled between Malfoy's cheeks. Who the hell robbed jewels wearing a butt plug?
Reaching out, Harry ran his finger over the flat base of the plug, pushing against it gently. He felt, more than saw, the shiver that ran through Malfoy, and remembered the point he had been trying to prove. Closing his thumb and forefinger around the base of the plug, Harry pulled it out and tossed it to the floor. It was practically dripping with lube, so he felt no qualms about lifting his hand from his side, holding the torch out and pushing the base against Malfoy's slick entrance. Pushing it in slowly, Harry listened to Malfoy's breathing turn ragged as the first inch of the thick torch slipped into his arse. "And then the man will take whatever he wants. Mind, it looks like you'd enjoy that. Perhaps I should ring the police now, get you in prison before morning?"
Malfoy just grunted, and Harry pushed a little more of the torch into him. Sliding it back out, Harry thrust of forwards slowly, watching the moonlight bounce off the shiny black surface. He'd been thinking about this all day, and Harry let himself get lost in the steady in and out as he watched Malfoy's body shake. He was barely aware of Malfoy orgasming, or the tiny whimpers as Harry pushed him into overstimulation with the thrusting. The only thing that snapped him out of his reverie was the squawk of his radio.
"Foxtrot, Sierra. Current location, over."
"Bugger," Harry pulled the torch out and set it down on the floor, ending the spell on Malfoy with a wave of his wand as he reached for his radio. "Sierra, Foxtrot. Just checking the Egypt exhibit, over."
"Roger that. Taking your time, Foxtrot."
"Just being thorough, Sierra. Back in five. Foxtrot out."
Clipping his radio back onto his belt, Harry slapped Malfoy's hand away as it reached out for the diamond. "No. Not this one."
"Fine. I was thinking about hitting the Saatchi sometime next week."
Harry nodded, cleaning his torch off and sliding it back onto the ring on his belt. He watched Malfoy repair his trousers and cross over to the window Harry had left open. Harry followed him, tossing Malfoy's wand out of the window and down to him on the ground. Malfoy looked up at him briefly, then he was gone, disappeared into the shadows as Harry reached out and closed the window.
In the morning, Harry was going to request a transfer. And a few quick Obliviates should clear up any queries as to why he'd worked in six galleries in as many weeks. Harry had been right to suspect magic during that first theft, and his intuition had paid off dividends.