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"What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy asked. "Why are you naked?"
Harry held back a grin. He had heard Malfoy's mad dash up the stairs and anticipated his outrage.
"You prefer to shower with your clothes on?" Harry shrugged. "To each their own, I guess."
Malfoy's jaw went tight. As tight as the rest of him. God, Malfoy was such a stuck-up. A pale, tall, steel rod, always glaring, chin always up, one eyebrow always raised. Back when he was a kid, he was a little shit, definitely, but there was at least some fire there.
Although, Malfoy looked fired up now. Finally.
"You've been up here for half an hour," Malfoy gritted out. "How dirty were you? Or were you just strutting around here naked for shits and giggles?"
"I didn't realise my showering time is limited. And I'm not naked. See?" He pointed at the white towel wrapped around his hips.
Malfoy's gaze flicked downwards, but went up again in a second. "Everything you do is time-sensitive, Pot—" He caught himself on time. "Sir. Do I need to remind you why we're in this safe house? The wizards threatening your life could burst in at any given moment. You want to be naked for that? Want me to drag you out of here and Disapparate you wearing nothing but that tiny rag?"
Harry laughed. "That'd be funny, you have to admit. Besides, I don't need clothes to fight them. Just my wand. And it's right there." He pointed vaguely at the bed. That statement only darkened Malfoy's expression, so Harry hurried to add — before Malfoy went on another tirade about wand-safety — "If you think these terrifying wizards can find us so easily, this isn't much of a safe house, now is it? How embarrassing for you, Malfoy."
"Auror Malfoy," Malfoy said. "Sir."
Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy's insistence on using their titles all the time, and his little yes-sirs and no-sirs were so fucking grating. Were they supposed to pretend they didn't know each other since they were eleven? Yes, they were never friends, but they bloody knew each other. There was no need to pretend otherwise.
"And you're not supposed to fight anyone, Minister," Malfoy added tightly. "That's my job."
"I only meant," Harry said in a placating tone, "after you do a shit job of defending me, and I have to do it myself."
Ooh, now there was real fire in Malfoy's eyes. Thank God. Malfoy was human after all and still easy to wind up. Much better. Now Harry was finally entertained. He certainly wasn't this morning when he was forced to hide in this stupid 'safe house.' It was just a fancy house owned by the Ministry. Nothing special about it. Harry could have stayed home, and they could have protected him there. It was hardly the first time someone had sent him a death threat. It happened weekly. He had introduced some extremely unpopular policies. Though, apparently, his attempt to abolish the Statue of Secrecy was taking things too far, and packages with curses hidden inside kept arriving at the Ministry. One reached his Junior Secretary and everyone lost their minds, even though no one got hurt.
Besides, if Harry was forced to leave the comfort of his home, they could have, at the very least, put someone else in charge of his security detail. Not someone who had a stick up his arse, hated Harry's guts, and hated being a glorified guard dog rather than a field agent.
Admittedly, that part might have been Harry's fault — he had a reputation of being a bit difficult, and all the Aurors hated this gig. His Chiefs of Security kept quitting. Supposedly, Harry never listened and tried to take their glory by recognising and neutralising threats before the Aurors around him could react. What was he supposed to do? Wait politely to be rescued? He was an Auror for more than a decade. He was the bloody protector, not someone who would duck his head and hide.
Malfoy visibly collected himself and, oh yes, there went that chin — up, up, up. Fuck, but did Malfoy look good in the Auror uniform. Tight leather, mostly black, but with a little red mixed in here and there. He was even wearing his red cloak affixed with a thick gold chain high across his chest. Oh, Harry missed wearing that uniform. His Minister attire was a voluminous black robe with a silver crest on the front that made him look like a judge. A serious, boring judge with a serious, boring job.
"Considering you have meetings this afternoon, sir," Malfoy said, "we need you to come back downstairs, so we can familiarise you with the new security protocols."
"Hmm." Harry considered that. Then he pulled off the towel and chucked it aside.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Er, listening to you?" Harry feigned confusion. "If you want me to go downstairs, I should dress myself?" Was Malfoy…? Oh yes, he was. He was trying so very hard not to look down at Harry's cock, but hilariously, he kept failing. Just constantly glancing at it. It wasn't that shocking. Harry had caught Malfoy staring at him when they passed each other in the Ministry building, but before this moment he truly couldn't tell if those gazes were filled with lust or disgust. He felt much closer to the real answer now. And that could possibly turn this whole stupid 'safe house' plan into something worth Harry's time. "Or…" Harry frowned. "You think I can just show up wearing this towel? Sorry, rag? Or, you know what? I could simply not go, take a nap instead, and you give me the simple, short version later?"
That made Malfoy focus on Harry's face rather than his cock. Oh, but he looked enraged. "There's no simple, short version I can give you."
"I'm sure you'll manage, Auror Malfoy," Harry said patronisingly. "I have full faith in you. Run along now. Your superior demands it."
For a second, Harry was sure Malfoy would try to curse him. Or punch him. But then Harry remembered how hard Malfoy had tried to become an Auror. It took him years. He kept failing the final test, the character-determining one, but he never gave up. This job meant too much to him. He'd never risk it; he was a man possessed.
Malfoy took a step closer. "You will get dressed and come downstairs with me. Sir."
God, now that was properly threatening. Harry was impressed. And very amused.
"I'm sorry, I—" Harry cocked his head. "Could you unclench your jaw a bit? I didn't quite catch that. Did you say you want me to come? I mean, that's—" He shrugged and reached down for his cock. "Well, all right. If I must." He gave his cock a few lazy tugs. It had already filled up a bit. Of course it did. Malfoy was wearing leather, he was flushed with anger, and Harry was only human.
Malfoy's eyes went wide. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter?"
"That's sir to you." Harry kept stroking himself. "And I'm only doing what you told me."
"I didn't—" Malfoy cut himself off and took another step closer. Harry could now feel the heat radiating off him. Malfoy's jaw was still clenched. "Every single person in this house is trying to do their job. Do you understand that? We're not here for your amusement. Show a little respect, you arrogant arse."
"You think my arse is arrogant?" Harry stopped stroking his cock and twisted a bit to look back at his arse. "I heard firm. I heard fine. Never arrogant. What a strange thing to say about—"
Malfoy grabbed Harry's hip. And, fuck, he grabbed it hard enough to bruise. Harry had to stifle a moan.
"Get dressed and get down—"
"On my knees? Really? Why, Auror Malfoy, I—"
Malfoy spun him around and slammed him against the bed frame so hard Harry had to grab the bedpost to keep himself from falling forward or hitting his head on the post.
Both of Malfoy's hands were on Harry's hips now, trying to grind them into dust, apparently.
Harry sucked in a breath. Fuck, he was so hard now. Malfoy really wasn't impressed by Harry, was he?
"Is this what you want, Potter?" Malfoy asked, his voice low and threatening. "Because I will give it to you. And then I'll drag you downstairs, naked, with a gaping, leaking arsehole, and make you sit there while I tell you everything about the goddamn security protocols."
Harry couldn't stifle a moan this time. Yes, yes, that was what he wanted. He didn't want it before when Malfoy was stoic and serious and kept calling him sir, but he wanted it now when Malfoy was seething with anger and indignation and was spitting out Potter with that familiar sneer of his. When was the last time someone dared to treat him like this?
"Fucking hell," Malfoy breathed out. He sounded shocked. He grabbed a handful of Harry's arse and squeezed. Harry hissed, because Malfoy was rough, but he also bucked back into Malfoy's touch, dizzy with sudden lust. "What, you can't find anyone to fuck you, Potter? Is that it? You have to goad people into it?" Malfoy squeezed Harry's arse cheek even harder, and Harry gritted his teeth, but then ended up yelping anyway because that fucking hurt. That would bruise, and it would bruise purple. Harry shuddered. "Or you're just bored?" Malfoy asked. "Poor little bored Minister, getting everything handed to him on a diamond platter."
Malfoy was right the first time — it was hard to find someone to fuck him. Even the bold ones who sometimes talked back to him ended up stuttering if Harry pushed too hard.
Although, maybe Harry hadn't pushed far enough.
"Is that how you talk to your boss, Auror Malfoy?" Harry gasped out. "I could demote you with a word."
Malfoy's fingers curled around the back of Harry's neck. "Now how will you do that when I push my cock so far up your arse you'll feel it in your throat?" Malfoy released Harry's arse, but the respite from the pain was short-lived, because Malfoy swung his arm and slapped Harry's arse so hard Harry cried out and yanked on the bedpost he was clinging to with enough force to make the whole bed creak.
If that was meant to make Harry shut up, Malfoy was in for a rude awakening. Taking a few seconds to work through the near-unbearable sting, Harry laughed. "You think your cock's that big? I bet it's tiny. You always struck me like a bloke with a tiny dick. Always overcompensating. Bet I won't even feel it. Oh, I'm sorry. Is it in yet?"
Malfoy laughed in Harry's ear, and Harry grinned. Well, that was a good sign. He had never seen Malfoy's dick. A little peek at Malfoy's leather-covered crotch suggested a big package, but Harry couldn't be sure. The Auror garb was a bit padded in that area.
"You know what, Potter?"
"Sir or Minister Potter," Harry corrected.
Malfoy's leather groaned. He was getting his dick out. "Well, sir—" He managed to make it sound mocking. "I'll be helpful and inform you when it's fully inside. So there's no confusion." Wet little slapping sounds filled the room. Malfoy was lubing up. That was polite of him. And skillful. Harry hadn't heard any wandwaving.
"That's too much lube," Harry couldn't help commenting. He couldn't see it, but it sounded like too much.
Malfoy's fingers moved up to grip Harry's hair and tug Harry's head back. Harry didn't even try to stop his moan. His cock was leaking.
"Don't forget you said that." Malfoy pressed up the head of his cock between Harry's arse cheeks. And, oh my, that felt big. Thick. Very, very— oh fuck.
One very long, loud "Ow," escaped him when Malfoy's cock breached his entrance. His rim was stretched painfully, burning something fierce. "Fuck. Ow. Shit."
"Not in yet," Malfoy said helpfully, his smirk obvious in his tone.
God. That was thick. That was so fucking thick. And it had been a long while since Harry did this. And it kept going in and in and—
"Fuck." Harry gripped the bedpost harder. It creaked again.
Malfoy tugged on his hair. "Not in yet," he whispered, and Harry shuddered. And then, with a jerk of Malfoy's hips, his cock pushed all the way in. Harry cried out, for a second tempted to magically shove Malfoy far away from him. But that moment passed quickly, and Harry relaxed a bit, enough to appreciate the fullness that had him stretched wide around Malfoy's cock. He felt fucking trapped on that thing. Like his legs were useless, and Malfoy's cock alone was supporting his whole weight.
"Having fun, Potter?" Malfoy asked.
Harry gave a breathless laugh. "Well, I'm not bored — yet." He was playing with fire, he knew.
Malfoy's answer was to grab Harry's hips with both hands, pull out a bit and slam back in. Harry gurgled because he fucking did feel that all the way to his throat. Malfoy wasn't messing around. He started thrusting in earnest, crushing Harry's hips and likely destroying Harry's arse. Harry was clinging to the bedpost, desperate to reach down and touch his cock, but he didn't dare to let go of the post. He'd tumble right on the bed, headfirst.
His eyes watered as Malfoy pounded in, relentless, the coarse leather of his uniform scraping against the sensitive skin of Harry's arse and thighs. The bed wouldn't stop creaking, and Harry couldn't stop panting. It hurt. And it was brilliant. This was not what he had imagined would happen when he'd been told he had to spend the day in the safe house.
"Minister Potter, you're needed downsss—"
Well, fuck. Malfoy went still, and Harry tried to suck in some much needed air before he glanced sideways.
A young Auror stood in the doorway, looking comically shocked. Which was fair. He just found the Minister starkers, all but hanging from the bedpost and getting railed by his Chief of Security. Harry supposed he ought to feel embarrassed, but he suspected that part of his brain had melted somewhere around the time Malfoy had found his prostate.
"Tell them," Harry said in a very scratchy voice, "the Minister will come shortly."
A strangled sound and a wild jerk of his head was all the Auror managed in response.
"Hastings!" Malfoy barked, and Harry twitched because Malfoy's whole body twitched when he yelled. "That is all you will tell them."
"Yes, sir," Hastings said breathlessly.
Harry had to laugh at his expression. That kid was terrified of Malfoy. He might actually keep quiet.
"You know," Harry had to point out, "you left the door open."
Malfoy had no retort to that, unless one counted Malfoy shooting a spell at Harry's wrists to bind them to the post as a retort. Harry was thankful for that. His grip was slipping.
"And just so you know," Malfoy said, "you're wrong. The Minister won't come quickly." He leaned in closer to whisper. "I can go on for a long while."
Harry sucked in some more air. He absolutely believed Malfoy. He'd be walking with a limp for days.
As Malfoy started up again, thrusting with renewed vigour, the few functioning brain cells Harry had left already composed a memo — Malfoy would be named the Chief of Minister's security detail permanently.