TITLE: The Joys of Strip Exploding Snap.
AUTHOR: Mexx.
EMAIL: mexx@wild-dystopia.net
FANDOM: Harry Potter.
DISCLAIMER: You think if I owned these characters I'd be merely writing about them?
PAIRING: Harry/Draco.
RATING: R.
SUMMARY: Sequel to Breakfast Saga: Harry and Draco enjoyed a revised version of the game Exploding Snap. It leads to nudity and sex. What, like you expected plot?
FEEDBACK: Feed me, Seymour, feed me!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Because my brain can't process plot, and the idea made Alexa and Kat laugh. Plus y'know, singed nipples are just funny.
Hermione's flat. August 1st 2003.
Harry.
3.18 PM.
I watch with abject horror as his knight proceeds to kick the pottery out of my king, my other pieces already shattered on the board. This is why I don't play with him; he takes things too far.
"See," he smiles, "I told you I'd win."
Arrogant blonde shit.
"Want to play again, or afraid I'll kick your beatable arse?"
Arrogant, insufferable blonde shit.
"Just because," I retort, "You beat me in a few--"
"—seven—" he interrupts.
"—games of chess, does not mean that you're unbeatable. In fact, I don't recall you ever beating me at Exploding Snap."
"Yes I did," he retorts, and slouches down on his chair. He's pouting. That is entirely unfair; he knows I can't disagree with him when he's pouting. "Last week, you started off playing quite well, but then I won."
I choose not to mention that half way through last weeks game Draco had decided he was hot and had divested himself of his shirt and spent a good ten minutes sucking on a phallic shaped lolly. My attention to the game had been suitably distracted, to say the least. It wasn't my fault I lost. Besides, I'm not talking about normal Exploding Snap. I tell him so.
"Well what sort of Exploding Snap are you talking about, you twat?"
I grin. "Strip Exploding Snap."
I see the frown lift slightly, but the pout remains. I believe he's trying to bait me. "How am I ever supposed to have beaten you when we've never even played Strip Exploding Snap!"
"Want to?" I suggest.
Draco's pout finally lifts, and I'm left facing a very dirty grin.
**
Draco.
3.43 PM.
Harry may have saved the Wizarding world from almost certain doom on several occasions, make a superb Chicken Royale, and give amazing head, but if there's one thing this boy excels at it's his ideas. Strip Exploding Snap.
Strip. Exploding. Snap.
*Strip* Exploding Snap.
Did I mention the stripping?
He's losing, as usual. Leaving him lovely and stripped. Naked Harry. Mmm. Not that I have much on either, but that's on purpose. It's not like I'd lose at anything.
He's probably losing on purpose, though. Not that he could beat me if he tried, but he likes being naked. Especially when I'm around. And I like Harry naked when I'm around. 'Course, I generally like Harry, but he's better when he's naked.
Harry's only got his boxers on-- green, with silvery bits on them. Come to think of it they look an awful lot like *my* boxers. Still I'm not going to complain if that's *all* he's wearing. I honestly wish Harry had been in Slytherin though; he looks so nice in green. Better than namby-pamby maroon, anyway. I bet Weasley likes maroon, which is ridiculous as it clashes horribly with that ginger tangle he likes to call 'hair'.
Harry's bending over the cards now so he can look closely at the cards. Evidently he's cheating, but I'm going to win anyway so I'll let him cheat a little—this way I'll get to be a bit more naked.
The cards Harry is so enamoured with explode with a loud bang, and he jumps back, hollering loudly. "Son of a fucking Squib! Ow!"
Harry frantically fans at his smoking chest, and I realise the stupid bloke has gone and set his chest on fire. His skin's gone a bit pink, and his faint splattering on chest hair has vanished and been replaced with an unseemly amount of grey ash over his pectoral muscles. He is so fucking hopeless.
I'm not entirely sure that he's managed to fan away the flames, myself. And as everyone who evidently *isn't* Harry knows, the best way to kill a flame is too starve it of oxygen.
**
Harry.
3.47 PM.
Of all the stupid games to have ever been thought up… why did I ever think that Strip Exploding Snap would *ever* be a good idea?
I think I singed my nipple.
And now Draco seems to think it's a good idea to leap onto my lap.
It's not that I'd normally be particularly annoyed to have Draco leap into my lap, hands on my crotch and his tongue on my chest, but right now my chest is a tad painful. And Draco's tongue – swirling around my left nipple – is not exactly easing the pain. Now, it seems, he's taken to sucking, as well as licking and—
Oh shit.
Ok, it's not so painful anymore…
Mmmm.
There are many fine qualities about Draco Malfoy – his seemingly endless inheritance definitely one of them, while his fondness for reptiles is not – but I think his art of seduction is one of his finer attributes, and most well (and probably most frequently) performed.
Today wasn't supposed to go like this. We're supposed to be flat hunting. Hermione is getting sick of having to magic back the coffee table together after Draco and I manage to disassemble it while she's at work. I mean, is it really our fault the damn thing can't support two fully-grown men? Hermione is going to go ballistic if she comes home to a singed me, and a naked Draco. She really, really will not like it. Especially now that Draco is reaching into my boxers and pretty soon I think we'll *both* be naked.
**
Draco.
3.53 PM.
Harry is such a slut. All it takes is a little sucking and licking and he's putty in my hands. Perhaps "putty" isn't the correct word, because Harry sure as hell isn't soft right now.
He likes to pretend he's above this; that I can't turn him on anytime, anywhere but really Harry is so easy. I slide onto the floor next to the table, and pull on Harry's ankles so he stands. Then I reach up and pull down his boxers. Mmm… naked Harry is always a nice sight, especially from the vantage point of being below him.
He kicks off his boxers, and I pull at his ankles at him so he sits down, and I guide him onto my lap.
**
Harry.
3.56 PM.
Draco is always accusing me of being a slut, but if you think about it, which of us is really the slut when he keeps his wand on hand purely so he can murmur a lubrication charm when the mood takes him. It's not like he uses his wand to do anything practical; he has me to order around for that. Still, I'm hardly one to complain about the few uses of Draco's wand when I'm the one sitting on Draco's thighs, watching him over my shoulder as he smears the newly conjured lubricant over his dick. Draco smirks at me, and moves his hands to my hips and guides me backwards.
I slide onto him, and I'm just about to murmur his name when I hear a click in the lock.
Hermione must be home.
Shit.
**
Hermione
4.02 PM.
There are points in my life when I realise the people who inhabit the position of "best friend" in my life, are not always the best people for the role. In fact, right now I think Harry is possibly the worst person for the role. The fact that his boyfriend is Draco Malfoy is the cause of this.
Of all the places they could have had sex. Of all the times they could have done it. Why on earth did it have to be *now*?
"Jesus Christ, Harry!" I scream, and cover my eyes in protest. The unfortunate image that befell my eyes before I manage to cover them was Harry apparently sitting in Draco's lap, although I sincerely doubt it was as innocent as merely sitting in his lap considering they're both naked as the day they were born, and Draco's hand was wrapped around Harry's rather excited penis. A little *too* excited considering the rather lethargic grin that had been taking over his face, and the unseemly amount of semen splattered on Draco's hand and Harry's chest.
"Fucking hell, Granger!" Draco screams, and I have to fight to keep my eyes closed. "Just because Harry can't last five minutes doesn't mean I'm finished. Bugger off!"
Honestly! You wouldn't know this is my bloody flat, would you? I stomp out of the room, with my hand still covering my eyes, intend on having words with them later.
**
Harry.
6.50 PM.
I sidle into the kitchen, intent on making peace with Hermione. She's making Spotted Dick by the looks of it, so she can't be *that* angry with us because she knows full well it's Draco's favourite.
"Herm…" I smile, and hug her from behind. Hermione is the most huggable person I know. There is no way she'll be angry with me now. I drop a kiss into her hair for good measure. "We're sorry."
"Harry James Potter!" she screeches. Uh-oh. I know that tone of voice. It's the one she uses when Ron is late home from the pub. "If you think you and that deranged blonde nymphomaniac can cuddle your way into my good books you both have another thing coming!"
"Uh…"
"What if I had brought a friend or a client home?" she continues irately. "How do you think it would have made me look if I had brought a client home to see two horny twats having an orgy on my *broken* coffee table?"
"They probably would have thanked you and asked for popcorn. It's not everyday you can get live porn of two gorgeous blokes shagging, is it?" Draco chips in from the lounge. If I'd have said that Hermione would have thrown a plate at me, but because it's her favourite "deranged blonde nymphomaniac" she just smiles in the direction of the lounge, then scowls at me again. Honestly, she acts like his horniness is a medical condition and thus prevents him from taking any blame for anything!
"Listen Herm, we're sorry. We just…" I bow my head slightly. I can feel my cheeks reddening. How am I supposed to tell my best friend that I cannot stop shagging him because he's so fucking gorgeous? Somehow, I don't see that going down well. "Don't you remember what you and Ron were like when you first got together?"
Hermione almost breaks into a smile, but her face remains stern. "We didn't break any furniture!"
"Look, if it's about the damn table we fixed it, alright? It was hardly a complicated spell!"
"Harry, you honestly think magic can solve everything?" Hermione asks, sighing. I feel a lecture coming on.
"'Course it can. Why'd you think wizards are superior to muggles, you silly cow?" Draco retorts petulantly from the lounge.
Hermione sighs, and crosses her arms across her chest. "I bet you two couldn't even go a week without your wands."
"'Could so!" Draco retorts. "It's not only our wands that make us better than muggles, we're just generally better."
"Alright then," Hermione smiles, evilly. "As soon as you two have moved into your new place I dare you to go a week without using your wands."
"You're on!" Draco declares from the lounge, and I have a feeling he's just agreed to do something very, very stupid.
-- finis.