1. As meetings go, this one could have been worse.

Draco sat in the lobby of the publishing house, waiting for his name to be called. He wasn’t nervous, no; he was just trembling slightly with anticipation.

Two or three months ago, he had submitted a couple of shots to a magazine for use in their amateur section. Apparently, after the photos had been published, there was a public outcry for more. Men all over Britain had wanked themselves unconscious to Draco’s nude form, and he could not say he was surprised. He was, after all, the former Slytherin Sex God. And, of course, he made the top of Death Eater Monthly’s Most Fuckable list six months straight as soon as he’d turned eighteen. Pity that little rag had gone under after Voldemort’s defeat; now he had to pose for fucking Muggles.

When his name was finally called, Draco made his way past the receptionist and was led through the gleaming double doors and up the lift to the section editor’s office. For a Muggle establishment, it was quite impressive. If he hadn’t been so engrossed in the architecture of the place, Draco would have noticed Harry Potter pushing through the revolving glass door and into the lobby. He did, however, hear the receptionist say Good afternoon, Mr Potter, but gave it no thought, since Potter is a rather common name. Rather too common, in Draco’s opinion.


Draco was seated by an assistant in a posh-looking office. The editor was no where to be seen. “I apologise, Mr- Malfoy, was it? Mr Potter just stepped into the building. He had a situation to attend to, but he will be with you in a moment.”

“Mr Potter, you say? Does he have a first name?”

“Of course he does, silly.” But that’s all the assistant said before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Needless to say, Draco was nothing short of stunned when the door opened a few moments later, and he found himself face to face with Mr Potter. Mr Harry Potter. Mr Harry James Potter, Gryffindor Gay Boy. Mr Harry --

“Well, Malfoy, I’m glad you made it.”

Draco was almost speechless, but not quite. Malfoys didn’t do speechless. “You’re a gay porn editor? I must say that I’m not surprised.” He managed a smirk and a trademark eyebrow raise, hoping to hide the fact that he was very surprised indeed.

“Officially, I’m an Auror. This is just a bit of something I do on the side.” Harry sat in the large chair behind the large desk before continuing. “It keeps my spirits up.”

“Your ‘spirits,’ eh? That’s what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Yes, well, that too.”

Suddenly, and quite unaccountably, Draco was self-conscious. “You’ve seen my pictures, then?”

“Really, Malfoy. It’s my job.” He could have sworn Harry winked at him.

2. Down to business.

Harry reached into a drawer and pulled out a small stack of papers. “This is just a waiver, stating that we own all the photos that we take of you.” He pushed the form across the desk to Draco. “And this is your consent form, stating that we are photographing you at your will. There is no contract, and no promise of future work. Although,” Harry smiled, “I don’t think we’d have any problems offering you more if you wanted it. And this one...” he pushed another sheet of paper across the desk, “...goes over the compensation aspect. We generally pay £500 for the session, however many hours it takes. I will personally convert that to wizard money in your case.”

“How very kind of you.” Draco read over the paperwork and signed. “How many Galleons is five hundred- pounds, you say?” Five hundred pounds of money seemed an awful lot for a few silly pictures!

“Galleons? Well, let’s see. There are five Pounds to a Galleon, so one hundred Galleons.”

“A hundred Galleons? That’s it? It’s a good thing I’m not doing this for the money. I’d starve to death.”

“I see some things never change.” Harry said this with near-fondness, and Draco wasn’t sure what that meant. “It’s not my place to ask, of course, but why are you doing this? I would have never thought of you as posing naked for a bunch of Muggle men to ogle.”

“I’m an exhibitionist.” At those words, another nostalgic smile graced Harry’s lips. “And I’m sure you’ve got a wizarding audience as well. I’m bound to be recognised.”

“You’ll be our first wizard centrefold. That’s something.”

“Centrefold?”

“Of course, Malfoy. Do you think I’d give anything less to Death Eater Monthly’s Most Fuckable, six months running?”

Apparently Malfoys did do speechless after all.

3. Take it all off!

Three days later, and precisely ten minutes till ten o’clock, Draco Apparated to an alleyway a few streets down from the publishing house. Harry had instructed him to bring his Slytherin robes, his wand, and his broomstick with him, and everything had been shrunk to fit into the messenger bag he was carrying. Draco had surmised that the theme of the spread was going to be fantasy, and didn’t question the editor’s request.


“You’re right on time!” Harry had greeted Draco in the lobby, which seemed rather odd. “Did you bring everything?” Draco held out the bag and Harry peered inside. “Good. Do your robes still fit, or do we need to alter them?”

Draco was insulted. “Of course they still fit! I haven’t gained an ounce since leaving Hogwarts!”

“Hrm. I thought you looked rather more muscular, actually.” Did Harry just wink again?

“Yes, well. Er, thank you.”

“Right then, shall we get started? The studio’s here on the ground floor, so you won’t have to go in the lift again. My assistant told me you were rather amused by it when you were here last.”

“I haven’t had many experiences with them is all.”

“She actually found it quite adorable.”

“Brilliant.”

“I think I do too. Come on, let’s get you to Makeup.”


As it turned out, Draco didn’t need much in the hair and makeup department; Tristan, the photographer, thought he looked perfect in his natural state. Harry didn’t argue.

“Is it normal for an editor to be so involved in the actual photography process?” Draco asked the makeup girl.

“Not really, but I can see why Mr Potter would be taking an interest in this one.” Her eyes roamed Draco’s body. “You’re possibly the hottest thing I’ve seen here in months. Are you really gay,” she asked casually, “or gay-for-pay?”

“Really gay.”

“Ah, well, all the good ones are.” She gathered up her supplies and strolled from the room. Draco found himself wondering when he’d become one of the ‘good ones.’


As the costumer got him dressed for the shoot, Draco wondered why Harry’d had him bring all of his wizarding things. He was wearing just a pair of denim trousers and a Malfoy smirk. He would really have to get a patent for that.

“Very nice,” the photographer commented when he and Harry had walked over to give him instructions for the shoot. “It shouldn’t take long to get everything we need. Your body was made for the camera.” Draco actually had the good sense to blush a bit, and Harry didn’t fail to notice.

“Well put together as always, Malfoy. But slightly more modest than I would have expected from a self-proclaimed exhibitionist.”

“Here’s what I need you to do, Mr Malfoy,” Tristan cut in before Draco could respond. “Go have a seat on that couch over there and relax for a few minutes. Mr Potter and I will be there in a tick to tell you exactly what it is we’re looking for.”

Draco crossed the studio to the large black couch. There were no other props; just the couch in the centre of the set. The backdrop was a charcoal shade, and the rug beneath his feet was thick and white. It was very tasteful, and very modern.

“I thought the grey in the backdrop would bring out your eyes,” Harry said when he and Tristan had finished their discussion. “White would have been too much. We’d have lost you.”

“Very funny, Potter.”

“Do you two know each other?”

“We went to boarding school together,” Harry answered quickly. Tristan seemed interested in hearing more.

“Get up to anything?”

“With Potter? Are you out of your mind?” Draco suddenly remembered that the Muggle would have no clue as to why he should be out of his mind. “We weren’t exactly what you would call ‘mates’.”

“A bit of house rivalry is all,” Harry helped. “Goes with the territory.”

“I see. So, let’s get going then. All right. Mr Malfoy, if you would sit there on the couch with your legs open a bit- yes, exactly like that. That’s where we’ll start. Once you get comfortable with the camera, I want you to just do whatever feels natural. Strip off, if you want, but you don’t have to.”

“But that’s the ultimate goal,” Harry said, smiling. There was something positively un-Gryffindor about that smile, and Draco wondered when the man had become so, well, Slytherin.

4. Don’t make love to the camera, fuck it!

With Harry and Tristan looking on, and the digital camera silently snapping away, Draco got very into his shoot. He licked his fingers and brought them down to his chest, where they circled and pinched at his nipples. With is other hand, he rubbed the growing bulge in his jeans. His eyes were focused straight ahead, directly into the camera. It was as Tristan had said; he was made for this.

“Okay, I think those trousers have to go.” Draco wasn’t sure, but he thought it was Harry who’d said it. Breathed it, really. “Gods, Malfoy. Take them off.” Yes, definitely Harry.

“Are you sure you never got up to anything?” Tristan was nearly as breathless as Harry. “Because, fuck me mate, I don’t know how you resisted.”

The two men watched as Draco’s fingers moved from his chest and down to the fly of his jeans. Both hands worked the button and zip, and it was only a couple of seconds before Draco’s cock sprang free. Without any word from either Harry or his photographer, Draco began to stroke himself off. The silence in the room was deafening.

“Fucking hell,” Tristan finally said, never taking his eyes off the viewfinder. “I just want to get over there and suck that.”

“You and me both,” Harry answered quietly.

Draco was now half-lying on the couch, the jeans around his ankles. One hand was slowly working his erection, and the other was back at his chest, pinching his left nipple. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back. It was as if he were the only one in the room.

When Draco finally came, panting and gasping, he opened his eyes to see Harry and Tristan both staring at him, agape.

“That was fucking brilliant,” Tristan said, removing the camera from the tripod. “We’ve got to have him back again.”

5. Payment, or Better Uses for a Nimbus.

When Tristan had taken the camera to his technical room to put Draco’s shots on the computer, Harry and Draco Apparated to Harry’s office.

“I have to tell you, I can’t wait to see those pictures. Not that they’d be any better than watching the live event.”

“And you thought me modest,” Draco huffed. “Can I ask why you had me bring along my school things, if we weren’t going to use them?”

“Who said we weren’t going to use them?” Harry’s tone was mischievous. “Let me get your payment sorted, and then we’ll worry about that.” From a drawer in the desk, he took out a pouch. “One hundred Galleons, as promised. Not bad for less than an hour’s work.” Draco reached for the pouch, but Harry drew it slightly back. “Although, I’d be willing to pay you more if you allowed me to take some private photos.”

“With the school things? You’re a pervert, Potter.” But Draco was intrigued. More than intrigued, really, as he started to get hard again.

“Ah, well, it was worth a shot.” He handed the pouch back to Draco, but Draco didn’t take it.

“I didn’t say no.”

“Good. Now how much more would you want? Another hundred?”

“Keep your money. Just run along and get your school robes, and we’ll be even.” Harry smirked, and Draco almost considered suing him for trademark infringement. “By the time you Apparate back here, I’ll be dressed.”


Draco hadn’t lied. By the time Harry’d come back to the office, dressed in Gryffindor scarlet and gold, Draco was dressed in his robes. Well, not dressed in them so much as sort of wearing them, as they were open and everything Malfoy was sticking out for the world to see.

“Even better than I remember,” Harry breathed. “Fuck, Malfoy.”

“Is that what you want to do, Potter? You want to ‘fuck Malfoy’?” Draco pulled at his erect cock, not breaking eye contact with Harry.

“I wouldn’t say no, if the opportunity presented itself.”

Draco hopped up onto the great oaken desk, leant back onto his elbows, and whorishly spread his legs. “The opportunity is presenting itself.”

“Broomstick,” Harry practically squeaked.

“Beg pardon?”

“I want to fuck you with your broomstick. First.”

“Again, beg pardon?”

“Not hard or anything. I just want to see it inside you.” Harry had opened his own robes and was stroking himself. “I want to see you impaled on it.”

“Gods, Potter. You’re a freak.” Draco did that smirky thing again. “Accio broom!” When the broomstick came flying across the room, Draco handed it over to Harry, who propped it up against the desk. The black handle was smooth and shiny, and there was a slight bulb at the end. “Be careful, that’s a new one.”

Harry didn’t say anything then, he just reached into his robe pocket and took out an impressively-sized bottle of Eros. He wasted no time in pouring some of the viscous fluid onto his fingertips and rubbing it over Draco’s puckered hole. He slid two fingers in at once, and curved them up to stroke Draco’s prostate. “Lie flat.”

“Mmm, yes. Fuck me, yes.” Harry hadn’t realised Draco was such a moaner. He quickly cast a silencing charm, as well as several locking charms, on the door and told Draco to be quiet a minute. He had to ring his assistant and tell her to hold his calls.

“I’m in a meeting,” he spoke into the phone, his fingers still in Draco’s arse. “And I cannot be disturbed.” After setting the phone down, he resumed his internal massage. “I could do this all day. But I won’t.” After a few more thrusts, Harry slipped his fingers free. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Harry poured more of the lube onto his fingers and rubbed it over the thick broom handle and again over Draco’s opening. He grasped the broom firmly in both hands, and slowly pushed the end of it in, being careful to keep it level. “Wait, wait, just a minute.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just . . . different. Feels brilliant, actually.” Draco took a deep breath and released it. “Carry on.”

“Leave it to a Malfoy to say ‘carry on’ as he’s getting a broomstick shoved up his arse.”

“I can’t help it if I- oh, fuck, yes. Right there- if I have manners.” Draco’s hands clutched the edges of the desk in a white-knuckle grip. “Gods, yes. Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Manners had apparently just flown out the window.

Harry was slowly sliding the end of the broom handle in and out of Draco. “You should see it from my angle. I could come in my pants watching this.”

Accio the camera then, so I can. You do- oh, Merlin!- you do have a camera in here, I would- fuck- imagine, since you were so keen on snapping me in my school kit.”

“I have my hands full, Malfoy, in case you hadn’t noticed. You Accio the camera.”

“Fine. Oh, yeah, twist it a little. That’s it. Mmm, that feels so good.” He pried one of his hands from the desk and held it in the air. Harry’d stopped thrusting so Draco could concentrate. “Accio camera!” The camera came flying off the shelf in the corner and landed in Draco’s palm. He almost dropped it. “Here.”

“You’ll have to switch it on.”

“I don’t know how this blasted thing works!” Draco turned the camera over in his hands, and Harry started laughing. “What’s so damned funny?”

“You’re lying on my desk with your broomstick in your bum, trying to figure out how to switch on a camera. What isn’t funny?” Said broomstick was very slightly moving up and down as Harry laughed. Draco groaned. “Sorry, sorry. You see the dial there on the top? There should be a little ‘A’ there. Move the dial clockwise until the little black dot is in line with the ‘A’.” Harry heard the camera turn on. “Good, now press the little button that looks like a bolt of lightning until the display reads ‘flash - off.’ Then hand it to me. I’ll lean over as far as I can to get it, so you keep still.”

“Fine, here.” Draco extended his hand as far as he could to pass Harry the camera. “Damned Muggle contraptions,” he muttered.

“Okay, now hold steady while I try to do this with one hand.” He very carefully held the broom in place with one hand, and took a fairly decent photo with the other. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed as he looked at the image on the display. “You’ve got to see this.” He carefully handed the camera back to Draco.

“It looks as good as it feels, then. Keep going, Potter; push it in a little more.” As he felt the bulb at the end of the broom handle rub back and forth against his prostate, Draco once again gripped the edge of the desk with his free hand. He had the good sense to put the camera down before he dropped it. “That’s it, yes, that’s it.” His eyes were tightly closed and his breath was coming in pants. Much like Harry was about to do. “Fuck me, oh Gods, fuck me.”

“You are not coming like this. You’re going to come with my cock in your arse.” Harry gently slid the broom out of Draco, and leant it once again against the desk. The last four inches or so were slick and shiny with lubrication. Draco fairly whimpered at the sight of the thick, wooden handle that had been inside him, making him nearly scream with pleasure. Harry just watched as Draco’s stretched hole started to constrict. He leant forward and plunged his tongue into the depths of it.

“Holy Hell! Are you trying to kill me?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Harry said, briefly moving his face from between Draco’s legs before returning to his task in earnest. “But it’s been years,” he muttered against the hot, wet flesh.

“Oh, ohhh, carry on doing that.”

“Got something better in mind, actually.” Harry stood, opened his robes completely, and reached for the bottle of Eros. “Hold on tight, Malfoy.” He pushed Draco back and climbed up onto the desk between his legs. With one hard thrust, he sheathed himself completely in Draco’s stretched body. “Touch yourself while I’m fucking you. I want to see you come.” Harry held Draco’s legs impossibly wide, and began to pound into him.

“Is that all you’ve got, Potter?” Harry slammed harder, nearly pushing Draco off the desk. “Fuck, yeah, that’s more like it.” Harry was fucking Draco so hard, he could barely keep his hand on his cock to bring himself off. Not that he had to, because after a few more thrusts, he shot a thick arc of fluid over his stomach and onto his chest and chin. He swiped a finger through the drops on his face, and shakily licked them off.

“Almost there,” Harry managed through gritted teeth. “Fuck, I’m almost there.”

“Gods, Harry, you feel so good. So fucking good,” Draco was panting now. “Fuck me, yes, oh so good.”

“You looked so hot with that broom sticking out of you,” Harry gasped. “I could look at that all day.”

“Come in me. I want to feel you come in me,” Draco coaxed, clenching his tired muscles around Harry’s cock. “Yes,” he panted as he felt Harry slam once more into him and stiffen, his orgasm flooding Draco’s insides. “I’ve waited so long to feel you inside me.” If Harry registered what Draco said, he didn’t show it. He had withdrawn his softening cock, and was standing on the floor, his legs shaky, licking his own come from Draco’s reddened and abused hole. Draco moaned loudly as Harry’s tongue lapped at him.

“I love the taste of me in you,” Harry finally said, looking up. His chin was wet with spunk, saliva, and lube. Draco could only nod. “I’ve always wondered what you tasted like.”

“Always?” Draco asked, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He hadn’t been able to move from his place on the desk.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Harry licked again, and Draco shivered. “And to hear you say my name with me deep inside you. You have no idea.”

“And the broomstick thing?”

“Thought of that the other day when I was tossing off to your amateur shots.” After one more penetrating lick, Harry moved up so his face was level with Draco’s and leant in. “Didn’t think you’d go for it though. Kinky bastard.”

“Says the man who just ate his own come from another man’s arsehole.”

“Want to taste? It’s brilliant.” Draco nodded, and Harry kissed him. It was a slow, deliberate kiss that sent chills down Draco’s spine. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him in for more.

Harry was right, it was brilliant.

6. The aftermath.

There was a loud CRACK! as Draco Apparated into Harry’s office. “You’re late,” Harry said, glancing at his watch, but not at Draco. “Did you bring your broom?”

- END -

See the art for this fic, drawn by Lillibet, and fussed with in CS by me.

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