Yule ficlet for zebrui H/D NC17
zebrui asked for H/D stuck on a ski lift.
Hope you like it, hun!
Title: Slippery Slope
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word count: 2156
Rating: NC17
Summary: Harry and Draco are forced together during a house unity ski trip
Notes: Um…Draco came out a lot more in control then I’d planned. *glares at Draco*
Harry was almost there. He gasped in a lungful of air and moaned as he released it. He couldn’t quite see his lover’s face, positioned as it was between his legs, mouth wrapped around his cock, but he could sure enough feel the other man’s prick pressed against his foot. He curled his toes into the heat. “Gods, yes… gonna…”
And he was. He was so close. Until:
Bang-Bang-Bang
And then:
“Come on, Potter! The slopes open in ten minutes.”
Harry’s lover disappeared as the last remnants of his dream evaporated like mist. “Fuck!”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Harry jumped from his bed and neared the door. “It’s the middle of the night, Malfoy. Go back to bed.”
“It’s not the middle of the night. It is ten minutes until seven in the morning and the slopes open at seven. Either show your face within two minutes or I’ll unlock this door and drag you to the ski lift.”
“Fuck.”
“What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “You can’t unlock the door. Your wand’s back at Hogwarts like everyone else’s. No-magic, house-unity, ski weekend, remember?”
“You have one minute. If you’re not out by then, I’ll yell loud enough to wake the entire hotel.”
Harry knew Malfoy would indeed do as he threatened. So he flew into the bathroom, took the quickest piss of his life, and then threw ski pants, a t-shirt, and a jacket over his bare skin. He was just pulling on a pair of thick socks when Malfoy pounded again.
Harry threw the door open.
“Hurry it up, Potter, or we’ll be late.”
Harry glared. “We have all weekend to ski! Why are you banging on my door before dawn?” He stepped into his boots.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It’s not before dawn, and like I said, the slopes are almost open.”
“No one else is going to be out this early,” Harry grumbled.
“Exactly. We can go up once, ski down, and then be done with this insanity. I can find a place by the fire and drink cocoa the rest of the day.”
Harry grabbed his gloves and hat and dutifully followed his ‘ski buddy’ from the lodge to the little hut where they could rent equipment, all the while muttering about stupid house-unity trips. “Why did Madam Hooch pair us up, anyway?” He groaned when Malfoy pushed a pair of light pink skis into his hands, snagging the black ones for himself.
“The only two openly gay boys at Hogwarts, and you don’t think she’d take a stab at matchmaking?”
“But everyone knows how we feel about each other!”
Malfoy leered. “And how do we feel about each other?”
Harry pushed past the prat and out the door. If he was going to have to do this, he’d get it over as quickly and painlessly as possible. When Malfoy was at his shoulder, Harry pointed toward a small hill. “That’s the beginners’ course. I think they call it the bunny hop. Let’s go.”
“I am not skiing down anything called a bunny hop.’” Malfoy turned to the left and pointed. “That one should suffice.”
Harry followed Malfoy’s gaze. The mountain he was pointing to seemed to go straight into the clouds. “Neither of us has ever skied before. We’ll get killed!”
Malfoy grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the ski lift that would take them to the top of… what was it? Harry squinted at the sign… Dead-Man’s Dive. Wonderful.
“I’m an expert skier. Father took me to the Alps every winter since I was old enough to walk.” Malfoy paused and bent over, giving Harry a look at a rather fit arse, even if it was padded with ski pants.
“But you told Hooch you’re a beginner like me!”
Malfoy lined up his skis, fit his right boot onto one ski and stepped down, locking the ski to his boot. He looked up at Harry. “If I told her the truth, she’d expect me to be on the hill the entire weekend. If she thinks I’m a beginner and I tell her I hate it after one go, she’ll leave me alone.”
“And if she catches you skiing down Dead Man’s Dive, then what? She’ll know.” Harry glanced back up at the mountain. It looked almost vertical. “So, Bunny Hop it is, then, right?”
Malfoy snorted as he fit his left boot in the other ski. “No. If I have to ski at all this weekend, I’d at least like a challenge. Anyway, Hooch was up until almost four drinking with Hagrid. She won’t be out for hours yet.”
“Then how will she know you even had a go?”
“You’ll tell her.”
“What?”
Malfoy did some kind of turn on his skis, making it look all easy and graceful. “You will tell her we both took a turn down the hill. She trusts you, so she’ll believe you. And since you’ll be telling the truth, you won’t get that stupid twitch in your left eye like you always do when you lie.”
“I don’t twitch.”
“You certainly do.”
Harry looked at the skis in his hand, not sure he could follow Malfoy’s lead and put them on correctly. Finally he laid them on the ground in front of him and tentatively stuck a toe of his boot out to nudge at the bindings.
Malfoy sighed. He peeled off his gloves and threw them to the side. He leaned down far enough so he could adjust Harry’s foot. “There, step down hard.”
Harry did and was delighted when the ski bindings clamped around his boot. He did the other foot himself, though Malfoy hovered just over his shoulder saying things like, “A little to the left,” and, “I said left, Potter, not forward.”
And he only fell on his arse three times on the ten foot trek to the ski lift.
“Malfoy! With these things on I can’t even stand on flat ground. I’ll kill myself if I try that mountain.” Harry finally arrived at the ski lift. Forgetting the length of his skis, he shuffled too close to Malfoy and their skis tangled. Harry went down again. “Mmmphh.”
Malfoy stayed upright, the sod.
“Just pretend you’re on a broom. You’ll get used to it.”
Harry was still arguing the point when the lift operator helped him onto the moving seat next to Malfoy. He looked at the empty cars in front of him, slowly making their way up the mountain, and then getting lost in the mist. He gulped.
Malfoy patted his jacket pockets. “Where are my gloves?”
“How should I know?”
“I handed them to you when I helped with your skis. Now, where are they?”
“You never handed them to me. You dropped them in the snow.” Harry craned his neck around to look back at the base of the hill. It seemed like it was already kilometers away.
“Then give me yours.”
“I’m not giving you my gloves. I need them.”
Malfoy sighed and wiggled in the seat, acting like he was getting comfortable for a long car ride. “Fine. Be that way”
The ski lift shuddered then lunged forward.
Harry yelped.
The lift stopped.
“What the hell happened?” Harry looked forward, then backward. They had only made it about half way up the hill.
“Get a grip, Potter. Sometimes ski lifts stall. We’ll be moving again in seconds.”
Harry closed his eyes and waited.
Some time later, he was startled out of a drowsing half sleep by Malfoy yelling, “Hey! Get me down from here, you clods!”
“How long’s it been?” Harry asked groggily.
“An eternity. Give me your gloves.” Malfoy pawed at Harry’s hands.
“No. It’s not my fault you left yours behind.” Harry sat on his hands.
“But I’m cold.”
“It’s barely dawn and you’re in the mountains with no gloves. Of course you’re cold.”
“I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t eat either, you know, since you practically ripped me out of bed this morning.” Harry scooted around in the seat, putting his back, as much as he could, to Malfoy. Maybe the git would get the message and stop whining.
“My skin gets all pink when I’m cold. I hate that. That’s why I stopped skiing in the first place.”
Harry snorted. “Only you would worry about pink skin.”
“Look at me,” Malfoy demanded. “Am I getting pink?”
Harry refused to turn, thinking how cute a pink-faced Draco Malfoy would be. He didn’t need the actual visual. He had thus far refused to use the other gay man at Hogwarts as wank fodder. He wouldn’t make that feat more difficult.
Behind him, Malfoy sighed. “My hands are cold.”
“So you’ve said.” Harry was just thinking about closing his eyes again when streaks of pure ice skittered across his bare back. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you my hands are cold. Your skin is warm. Problem solved.”
Harry tried not to think of how nice Malfoy’s hands felt on him now that they were warming up. He closed his eyes and tried to think about Goblin Wars or Planetary paths, but his mind kept coming back to those hands on his back. And damn his cock for being interested!
Harry breathed in slowly and steadily, willing the chair to start moving again. Instead, it was Malfoy’s hands that shifted. “Your skin isn’t as warm any more.” His fingers snaked around to Harry’s stomach. Now Harry was caught in some weird embrace, with his own arms pressing Malfoy’s into his sides, his hands still caught under his legs. He willed himself not to lean back against Malfoy.
Two minutes later, Malfoy was whining again. “Now your stomach’s going cold, too.”
“Well your hands are letting the cold air in.” Harry shivered to prove his point, not wanting Malfoy to know his touch was actually heating Harry up quite nicely.
Harry yelped and almost rolled off the chair when Draco’s hands suddenly plunged into his ski pants.
Malfoy’s hands quickly retreated. “You’re not wearing anything underneath!”
“I was sleeping when you threatened me this morning, remember? I didn’t have time to dress.”
“Do you sleep in the nude, Potter?”
“None of your… ahhhh…” Malfoy’s hands had slid back under Harry’s waistband and settled on either side of his cock, not quite touching it. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting warm.”
“You need to get out of my pants.”
Malfoy’s front was suddenly pasted against Harry’s back, and breath puffed along his cheek when Malfoy asked, “Do you really want me to?”
“Yes.” Harry felt his left eye twitch. Well, damn.
The hands began retreating slowly, fingers bent so nails rasped trails along Harry’s skin. “Wait! Leave them there.”
Behind Harry, Malfoy chuckled and moved his hands until they were both on Harry’s cock, stroking lightly. “Ah, yes,” Malfoy drawled. “This is much better than sitting here freezing, wouldn’t you say?”
Harry nodded.
“Then get your hands out from under your arse and get those gloves off.”
Harry obeyed without question. After all, if those wicked hands were going to keep stroking, he wasn’t going to argue.
Malfoy nipped at his ear before whispering, “Put your hands with mine. Help me jerk you off.”
Harry moaned. He pushed his hands down his pants and curled them over top of Malfoy’s. He leaned back against Malfoy, closed his eyes, and set about putting them to the pace he liked best.
“That’s it,” Malfoy purred. His bottom hand pulled out from under Harry’s and pushed farther into the pants, cupping around his balls.
Harry’s breath stuttered, his hips jerked. Merlin, it felt like the whole earth was swaying. He forced Malfoy’s hand, the one that was still on his cock, to speed up.
“That’s it, Harry. Come for me.”
And Harry did. He shouted and shot into his ski pants and over their hands.
A moment or two later, when his breath had evened out again, Harry squinted his eyes open. He sat up straight and gasped when he saw they were moving, but going back down the slope. “We didn’t get off at the top.”
Malfoy-Draco-chuckled. “Oh, you certainly got… no… that one’s too easy,” he said. “I figured we had enough for the day, but the attendant at the top got an eyeful.”
“Fuck.”
Draco pulled his hands from Harry’s pants. “My thought exactly. We’ll go to my rooms to do it, though. I have one of the luxury suites. You can call Hooch from the room later. After all, she can’t see your eye twitch over the phone.”
Harry turned slowly to look at Draco, but any retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when he saw the hungry look in Draco’s eyes.
“Okay,” was all he managed to stutter.
“Good. Now since you’re not using these…” Draco pulled Harry’s gloves slowly onto his pink-tinged hands.
~~end~~
Sequel: "Still Sliding"
Hope you like it, hun!
Title: Slippery Slope
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word count: 2156
Rating: NC17
Summary: Harry and Draco are forced together during a house unity ski trip
Notes: Um…Draco came out a lot more in control then I’d planned. *glares at Draco*
Harry was almost there. He gasped in a lungful of air and moaned as he released it. He couldn’t quite see his lover’s face, positioned as it was between his legs, mouth wrapped around his cock, but he could sure enough feel the other man’s prick pressed against his foot. He curled his toes into the heat. “Gods, yes… gonna…”
And he was. He was so close. Until:
Bang-Bang-Bang
And then:
“Come on, Potter! The slopes open in ten minutes.”
Harry’s lover disappeared as the last remnants of his dream evaporated like mist. “Fuck!”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Harry jumped from his bed and neared the door. “It’s the middle of the night, Malfoy. Go back to bed.”
“It’s not the middle of the night. It is ten minutes until seven in the morning and the slopes open at seven. Either show your face within two minutes or I’ll unlock this door and drag you to the ski lift.”
“Fuck.”
“What?”
Harry took a deep breath. “You can’t unlock the door. Your wand’s back at Hogwarts like everyone else’s. No-magic, house-unity, ski weekend, remember?”
“You have one minute. If you’re not out by then, I’ll yell loud enough to wake the entire hotel.”
Harry knew Malfoy would indeed do as he threatened. So he flew into the bathroom, took the quickest piss of his life, and then threw ski pants, a t-shirt, and a jacket over his bare skin. He was just pulling on a pair of thick socks when Malfoy pounded again.
Harry threw the door open.
“Hurry it up, Potter, or we’ll be late.”
Harry glared. “We have all weekend to ski! Why are you banging on my door before dawn?” He stepped into his boots.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It’s not before dawn, and like I said, the slopes are almost open.”
“No one else is going to be out this early,” Harry grumbled.
“Exactly. We can go up once, ski down, and then be done with this insanity. I can find a place by the fire and drink cocoa the rest of the day.”
Harry grabbed his gloves and hat and dutifully followed his ‘ski buddy’ from the lodge to the little hut where they could rent equipment, all the while muttering about stupid house-unity trips. “Why did Madam Hooch pair us up, anyway?” He groaned when Malfoy pushed a pair of light pink skis into his hands, snagging the black ones for himself.
“The only two openly gay boys at Hogwarts, and you don’t think she’d take a stab at matchmaking?”
“But everyone knows how we feel about each other!”
Malfoy leered. “And how do we feel about each other?”
Harry pushed past the prat and out the door. If he was going to have to do this, he’d get it over as quickly and painlessly as possible. When Malfoy was at his shoulder, Harry pointed toward a small hill. “That’s the beginners’ course. I think they call it the bunny hop. Let’s go.”
“I am not skiing down anything called a bunny hop.’” Malfoy turned to the left and pointed. “That one should suffice.”
Harry followed Malfoy’s gaze. The mountain he was pointing to seemed to go straight into the clouds. “Neither of us has ever skied before. We’ll get killed!”
Malfoy grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him toward the ski lift that would take them to the top of… what was it? Harry squinted at the sign… Dead-Man’s Dive. Wonderful.
“I’m an expert skier. Father took me to the Alps every winter since I was old enough to walk.” Malfoy paused and bent over, giving Harry a look at a rather fit arse, even if it was padded with ski pants.
“But you told Hooch you’re a beginner like me!”
Malfoy lined up his skis, fit his right boot onto one ski and stepped down, locking the ski to his boot. He looked up at Harry. “If I told her the truth, she’d expect me to be on the hill the entire weekend. If she thinks I’m a beginner and I tell her I hate it after one go, she’ll leave me alone.”
“And if she catches you skiing down Dead Man’s Dive, then what? She’ll know.” Harry glanced back up at the mountain. It looked almost vertical. “So, Bunny Hop it is, then, right?”
Malfoy snorted as he fit his left boot in the other ski. “No. If I have to ski at all this weekend, I’d at least like a challenge. Anyway, Hooch was up until almost four drinking with Hagrid. She won’t be out for hours yet.”
“Then how will she know you even had a go?”
“You’ll tell her.”
“What?”
Malfoy did some kind of turn on his skis, making it look all easy and graceful. “You will tell her we both took a turn down the hill. She trusts you, so she’ll believe you. And since you’ll be telling the truth, you won’t get that stupid twitch in your left eye like you always do when you lie.”
“I don’t twitch.”
“You certainly do.”
Harry looked at the skis in his hand, not sure he could follow Malfoy’s lead and put them on correctly. Finally he laid them on the ground in front of him and tentatively stuck a toe of his boot out to nudge at the bindings.
Malfoy sighed. He peeled off his gloves and threw them to the side. He leaned down far enough so he could adjust Harry’s foot. “There, step down hard.”
Harry did and was delighted when the ski bindings clamped around his boot. He did the other foot himself, though Malfoy hovered just over his shoulder saying things like, “A little to the left,” and, “I said left, Potter, not forward.”
And he only fell on his arse three times on the ten foot trek to the ski lift.
“Malfoy! With these things on I can’t even stand on flat ground. I’ll kill myself if I try that mountain.” Harry finally arrived at the ski lift. Forgetting the length of his skis, he shuffled too close to Malfoy and their skis tangled. Harry went down again. “Mmmphh.”
Malfoy stayed upright, the sod.
“Just pretend you’re on a broom. You’ll get used to it.”
Harry was still arguing the point when the lift operator helped him onto the moving seat next to Malfoy. He looked at the empty cars in front of him, slowly making their way up the mountain, and then getting lost in the mist. He gulped.
Malfoy patted his jacket pockets. “Where are my gloves?”
“How should I know?”
“I handed them to you when I helped with your skis. Now, where are they?”
“You never handed them to me. You dropped them in the snow.” Harry craned his neck around to look back at the base of the hill. It seemed like it was already kilometers away.
“Then give me yours.”
“I’m not giving you my gloves. I need them.”
Malfoy sighed and wiggled in the seat, acting like he was getting comfortable for a long car ride. “Fine. Be that way”
The ski lift shuddered then lunged forward.
Harry yelped.
The lift stopped.
“What the hell happened?” Harry looked forward, then backward. They had only made it about half way up the hill.
“Get a grip, Potter. Sometimes ski lifts stall. We’ll be moving again in seconds.”
Harry closed his eyes and waited.
Some time later, he was startled out of a drowsing half sleep by Malfoy yelling, “Hey! Get me down from here, you clods!”
“How long’s it been?” Harry asked groggily.
“An eternity. Give me your gloves.” Malfoy pawed at Harry’s hands.
“No. It’s not my fault you left yours behind.” Harry sat on his hands.
“But I’m cold.”
“It’s barely dawn and you’re in the mountains with no gloves. Of course you’re cold.”
“I’m hungry. I didn’t have breakfast.”
“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t eat either, you know, since you practically ripped me out of bed this morning.” Harry scooted around in the seat, putting his back, as much as he could, to Malfoy. Maybe the git would get the message and stop whining.
“My skin gets all pink when I’m cold. I hate that. That’s why I stopped skiing in the first place.”
Harry snorted. “Only you would worry about pink skin.”
“Look at me,” Malfoy demanded. “Am I getting pink?”
Harry refused to turn, thinking how cute a pink-faced Draco Malfoy would be. He didn’t need the actual visual. He had thus far refused to use the other gay man at Hogwarts as wank fodder. He wouldn’t make that feat more difficult.
Behind him, Malfoy sighed. “My hands are cold.”
“So you’ve said.” Harry was just thinking about closing his eyes again when streaks of pure ice skittered across his bare back. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I told you my hands are cold. Your skin is warm. Problem solved.”
Harry tried not to think of how nice Malfoy’s hands felt on him now that they were warming up. He closed his eyes and tried to think about Goblin Wars or Planetary paths, but his mind kept coming back to those hands on his back. And damn his cock for being interested!
Harry breathed in slowly and steadily, willing the chair to start moving again. Instead, it was Malfoy’s hands that shifted. “Your skin isn’t as warm any more.” His fingers snaked around to Harry’s stomach. Now Harry was caught in some weird embrace, with his own arms pressing Malfoy’s into his sides, his hands still caught under his legs. He willed himself not to lean back against Malfoy.
Two minutes later, Malfoy was whining again. “Now your stomach’s going cold, too.”
“Well your hands are letting the cold air in.” Harry shivered to prove his point, not wanting Malfoy to know his touch was actually heating Harry up quite nicely.
Harry yelped and almost rolled off the chair when Draco’s hands suddenly plunged into his ski pants.
Malfoy’s hands quickly retreated. “You’re not wearing anything underneath!”
“I was sleeping when you threatened me this morning, remember? I didn’t have time to dress.”
“Do you sleep in the nude, Potter?”
“None of your… ahhhh…” Malfoy’s hands had slid back under Harry’s waistband and settled on either side of his cock, not quite touching it. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting warm.”
“You need to get out of my pants.”
Malfoy’s front was suddenly pasted against Harry’s back, and breath puffed along his cheek when Malfoy asked, “Do you really want me to?”
“Yes.” Harry felt his left eye twitch. Well, damn.
The hands began retreating slowly, fingers bent so nails rasped trails along Harry’s skin. “Wait! Leave them there.”
Behind Harry, Malfoy chuckled and moved his hands until they were both on Harry’s cock, stroking lightly. “Ah, yes,” Malfoy drawled. “This is much better than sitting here freezing, wouldn’t you say?”
Harry nodded.
“Then get your hands out from under your arse and get those gloves off.”
Harry obeyed without question. After all, if those wicked hands were going to keep stroking, he wasn’t going to argue.
Malfoy nipped at his ear before whispering, “Put your hands with mine. Help me jerk you off.”
Harry moaned. He pushed his hands down his pants and curled them over top of Malfoy’s. He leaned back against Malfoy, closed his eyes, and set about putting them to the pace he liked best.
“That’s it,” Malfoy purred. His bottom hand pulled out from under Harry’s and pushed farther into the pants, cupping around his balls.
Harry’s breath stuttered, his hips jerked. Merlin, it felt like the whole earth was swaying. He forced Malfoy’s hand, the one that was still on his cock, to speed up.
“That’s it, Harry. Come for me.”
And Harry did. He shouted and shot into his ski pants and over their hands.
A moment or two later, when his breath had evened out again, Harry squinted his eyes open. He sat up straight and gasped when he saw they were moving, but going back down the slope. “We didn’t get off at the top.”
Malfoy-Draco-chuckled. “Oh, you certainly got… no… that one’s too easy,” he said. “I figured we had enough for the day, but the attendant at the top got an eyeful.”
“Fuck.”
Draco pulled his hands from Harry’s pants. “My thought exactly. We’ll go to my rooms to do it, though. I have one of the luxury suites. You can call Hooch from the room later. After all, she can’t see your eye twitch over the phone.”
Harry turned slowly to look at Draco, but any retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when he saw the hungry look in Draco’s eyes.
“Okay,” was all he managed to stutter.
“Good. Now since you’re not using these…” Draco pulled Harry’s gloves slowly onto his pink-tinged hands.
~~end~~
Sequel: "Still Sliding"