Trade – Chapter VIII (1 of 2)

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TRADE

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Chapter VIII (1 of 2)



The blasted phone was ringing.

Draco was trying to fuck Blaise, and the goddamn phone was ringing. People had no sense of decorum or timing anymore; they would have to bloody well ring back later. Or possibly never, since Draco had every intention of keeping Blaise busy for an indefinite period of time.

When they were done with this, there was rimming to cover, and blowjobs to occupy the time. Draco had fifty-seven, no, fifty-eight different fantasies about watching Blaise jerk off, and Blaise was going to act out every last one if Draco had his say -- which he was going to.

There was the matter of licking and biting every inch of Blaise's chest, and then – well, suffice to say that Draco was not letting Blaise out of bed for some time. Or at least the next few hours.

Draco was a perfectionist, and eventually they would get it right. At the moment, Blaise was stretched out above Draco, dark eyes narrowed and mouth slack with desire as he rocked himself back and forth blissfully on Draco's index and middle fingers. His copper coloured nipples were wet and swollen from Draco's mouth, and he had a dark mark on his collarbone from Draco's teeth.

He looked like sin incarnate, and Draco was going to fuck him. Hard. Repeatedly. At the moment, however, Blaise had a death grip on Draco's wrist and was fucking himself avidly with Draco's fingers, which was proving to be big problem for Draco's cock, since it was twitching in agony against Draco's stomach.

Draco's fingers were inside Blaise, stretching and feeling, and Jesus Christ, Draco was never going to last long enough to get inside Blaise. It didn't matter that Blaise was bitching at Draco to 'hurry the fuck up, all ready' or that Draco had been waiting to do this for at least ten years. There were some things even Draco couldn't handle, and one of them apparently, was watching Blaise Zabini work himself open on Draco's fingers.

Blaise was riding Draco's fingers, levelling himself up by pushing against Draco's shoulder which was probably going to pop out of the socket at any moment from abuse, and Blaise just kept moving up and down, his rapid motions causing Draco's cock to slap against his stomach obscenely.

Draco's one free hand was gripping Blaise's right hip tightly, he could feel his fingernails digging into the thin skin over Blaise's hipbone, and was it too much to fucking ask for the fucking phone to shut up and for his stamina to wait five fucking minutes so he could fuck Blaise properly?

Draco made a guttural noise as Blaise sat back on his haunches and began stroking his cock rapidly, his thumb rubbing the head and his foreskin; watching porn had never been this good.

Draco had been in drug-fuelled orgies with A-list celebrities that had never been this good.

He knocked Blaise's hand away belligerently, and Blaise scowled. "Then hurry up and answer the fucking phone," he snapped, stilling his hips.

Draco paused. "What?"

And then he woke up.

On a normal day, waking up and finding himself face-to-chest with Blaise's gym-defined abdominals would be a tremendously welcome sight for Draco. Today, however, he found it slightly depressing. Draco was warm, but not sweaty, and his fingers were dry, and stiff, and very much not inside Blaise –- hence the depression.

Because Draco's life just wasn't pissing on his head enough.

He'd been asleep next to the real thing and was still dreaming about him. It was sickening and wrong and obsessive even for a –- even for Draco. His left arm was asleep underneath the pillows and Blaise's body, and his right hand was clutching at the bed linens and cramping the muscles in his forearm.

"You're fucking useless." Since all Draco could see was tan skin and faint black hairs, Blaise's voice projected in a disembodied fashion, but he didn't seem terribly put out by Draco's slothfulness.

"Stop bitching, Christ," Draco retorted, only to let out a large exhalation of air when Blaise dropped the top half of his body on Draco's chest. "What are you trying to do?" he grunted. "Smother me?"

Blaise didn't respond to Draco, instead choosing to pick up the phone's handset. "Hello?"

Draco groaned at the shrillness of the caller on the other end. He only knew one person who could be heard at this distance from a phone, and then only when she was in a foul mood. His suspicions were verified when Blaise answered. "Good morning, to you too, Pansy."

Sighing dramatically, Draco released his death hold on Blaise's bedclothes, and flung his forearm across his eyes. He was so put upon; he couldn't even have dirty dreams about Blaise in peace anymore. He grunted as Blaise shifted on his chest. Blaise was very warm, but he was all muscle and bone. "You're crushing my lungs," Draco warned.

Blaise snorted, but whether it was at Draco or at Pansy, Draco couldn’t say. "No, no one is dead, Pansy," Blaise said soothingly as Draco wriggled underneath him, trying to escape Blaise's bony knees and hips.

"I like having that," Draco hissed as Blaise almost kneed him in the groin. "I think you like it being there too."

"Stop complaining," Blaise ordered, and Draco lifted his forearm. If Blaise was giving Pansy what for then Draco wanted to hear and see it. Instead he found Blaise's hand over the mouthpiece, and his eyes focused on Draco below him.

"I am not complaining," Draco said as Blaise straddled his waist, and their dicks bumped against each other. Draco thrust against Blaise reflexively. "I am making a point."

Blaise lifted his hips away, much to Draco's displeasure. "You whinge more than anyone I know."

"I do not," Draco retorted mildly around a yawn.

"It's very endearing in a twisted way." Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco before he removed his hand from the receiver. "Pansy, relax. He's here with me. Yes, I'm sorry no one rang yesterday to say they would be out. No, I didn't know Neville and Kingsley would be out as well."

Blaise raised an eyebrow; Draco scrubbed his fingers through his hair. It felt dry and slightly brittle, and he realised he'd forgotten to condition his hair after shampooing, because he'd been too busy groping Blaise. He glanced upwards curiously to see if Blaise was having any second thoughts, but he appeared quite engaged in his conversation with Pansy.

"Yes, Pansy, I know that was irresponsible and wrong, and I'm sorry if we made you anxious, but we knew you wouldn't let the Inland Revenue come and take everything away."

Draco made a snorting noise, rubbing his arms to get the feeling back in them. He was impossibly stiff everywhere: his hands, his arms, his dick, even his toes were cramped up.

He was also in bed with Blaise. Naked.

Draco's brain struggled to put all the pieces together, and he felt certain that his nerves should've been more frayed than they felt. There were family issues and business issues and issues with That Other Person that had no name. At the very least Draco should've been horribly anxious about this being a 'morning after' with Blaise, but he simply couldn't summon the energy to panic, especially after Blaise dropped down beside him and put the handset on the pillow between them so he could listen in.

Apparently Pansy was going to kill him and give his favourite Dunhill shirts and Kilgour suits to the buskers at Charing Cross. "That's lovely to know," Draco said idly, interrupting Pansy mid-rant. "I wouldn't want you to think that I might actually need my clothing or be listening to this conversation."

There was a dead silence on the phone, and Blaise gave Draco warning look; Blaise never let him have any fun. Draco rolled his eyes; he was so put upon. "Pansy, relax, don't start hyperventilating. I'll have it made up to you – something nice from Stella's fall collection or something from McQueen. You decide."

Draco could just imagine Pansy's incredulous look, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Yes, I'm being serious," he said, cutting off the inevitable deluge of disbelief. "Now if you would excuse Blaise and I, we can't very well get ready to come in if we're on the phone with you all morning."

Clearly Draco had shocked Pansy into some sort of stupor, and he couldn't help leering at Blaise, who chuckled in amusement.

"I'll, ah, expect you in shortly then, shall I?" was Pansy's uncharacteristically timorous reply, and Draco bit his lip to keep from laughing directly into the phone. He twitched when Blaise's fingers stroked alongside his ribcage, dipping over his hip and his tattoo.

"Also, before I forget," he added, his breath catching slightly as Blaise's fingers moved upwards and circled his right nipple. "Kindly tell your boyfriend that he and I will need to have a long conversation today about his loyalties."

Pansy was still sputtering when Draco rang off, dropping the handset by the side of the bed.

"That was wrong of you; scaring the piss out of Pansy by mentioning Kingsley." Blaise's tone was somewhere between amused and disapproving, and Draco scowled when Blaise ceased touching him.

"You said I was here." Draco pushed Blaise on his back and knelt over his hips. His breathing hitched slightly as their groins rubbed together and his cock left a wet pattern on Blaise's abdominals. "It's not my fault if she didn't realise that meant the conversation was now a free-for-all," he said.

If it took Blaise a minute to realise that Draco was moving him around freely, he didn't protest or even mention it. Everything with Harry had required a lot of conversation and argument and concession and wondering what the other person might like or might go spare over. With Blaise it was a simple take and give and do what you want; they knew each other well enough not to have to guess.

It was -– refreshing.

It was also distracting, especially with Blaise's cock lined up next to his own. "I think we should have sex now," Draco announced, licking his lower lip and running his index finger along the length of Blaise's cock.

Blaise shuddered, but he grabbed Draco's wrist to still his movements. "I thought we were going in to work."

"Work will still be there later." Draco gave Blaise a look, which Blaise seemingly ignored although his fingers loosened around Draco's wrist, and he stroked Draco's palm leisurely.

"So, you're looking for a quickie?" Blaise asked easily. "In and out and off to work?"

In the Sex With Blaise v. Work competition, there was no competition, but Draco pretended to think over Blaise's proposition. "Not so much a quickie as a starter before the main course."

Blaise arched eyebrow conveyed several things, all of which made the blood rush away from Draco's head at an alarming rate. It even took him a moment to realise he was rocking himself against Blaise's hips with tiny movements. He could feel Blaise's pubic hair rubbing against his backside and the prickliness of it against his skin was tremendously erotic.

He had been having thoughts, lots of thoughts, but they were all cut off by Blaise flipping them back over. Draco's head hit the mattress with a soft thump, and Blaise's satisfaction was evident as Draco frowned from his vantage point on his back.

"I feel like I've already been here this morning," he said, his body twitching and buzzing at the sensations of Blaise's bare skin against his own. Blaise's body had Draco caged in, and his cock was leaving wet patterns on Draco's stomach and thighs. Every nerve ending of Draco's skin itched with want.

He scowled good-naturedly under Blaise's twisted smirk and craned his neck to snog Blaise just because he could. Blaise's answering kiss was firm; his lips soft and his mouth welcoming, but he nipped at Draco's lower lip sharply, and Draco arched up when Blaise gave his cock a sharp tug.

"Get used to it," Blaise said, propping himself up with one hand while rubbing Draco's length with his fingers. Draco had a suitably scathing response, but it died away as Blaise's fingers stroked and rolled and did all manner of sinful things to his dick.

Draco's fingers flexed, the stiffness from the day before making it rather difficult for him to get a proper hold on Blaise, but he managed to get one hand around Blaise's neck and pull him in for another messy, fiercely possessive kiss.

The question of who was being more possessive of whom flittered around Draco's mind as he stroked Blaise's tongue with his own and let his fingers knead the nape of Blaise's neck. Draco's hands moved diffidently over Blaise's shoulder and biceps, not quite sure where to start. It was though Blaise was the largest present Draco had ever received, and he couldn't figure out what part of Blaise he wanted to touch the most.

Blaise's teeth were leaving all sorts of sharp memories along Draco's jaw line and neck. Draco could feel the sweat forming between them as he thrust himself against Blaise's chest and hand.

If the sex of the last twenty-four hours was any indication, Blaise was the best lay in all of Greater London. How Draco was ever going to let him circulate among the general population without sixteen bodyguards and a cadre of trained attack dogs was unfathomable.

No one was ever getting near Blaise again, especially considering the clever things his fingers were doing to Draco's cock, which felt it was finally receiving its due appreciation. Blaise's thumb was slowly manipulating Draco's foreskin, and the groan deep in his chest came out as a smirk against Blaise's mouth.

"Something on your mind?" Blaise asked, pulling away marginally, and licking his own lower lip. Draco felt his dick twitch in Blaise's grasp, and he took a deep shuddering breath, letting his hands slip from Blaise's shoulders onto the bedclothes.

"Not really," he lied evenly.

Blaise's tongue peeked out from behind his teeth, and this time a muscle in Draco's left thigh twitched. Every part of his body seemed to be attuned to Blaise and just waiting for what Blaise was going to do next, which was unconscionable.

So, Draco got his legs underneath himself and rolled them back over.

Blaise laughed as Draco kneeled between his thighs, his cock erect almost to the point of pain. All the blood in Draco's body was between his legs, and therefore there was none in his head for this sort of play. "This isn't getting us to work, is it?" he said absently.

"I know the owner; I'm sure he'll let it go –- this time." The easy amusement in Blaise's voice made something burn high in Draco's chest, and for a moment he thought it was heartburn, but it didn't seem to hurt. He bit his lip thoughtfully under Blaise's inquisitive gaze, and leaning down he kissed Blaise again, this time much quieter than before.

Blaise's hands slid from Draco's forearms to his biceps, leisurely, and Draco made a noise as Blaise rolled them over once again. "I'm getting seasick this way," he sniped even as Blaise's eyes roved over his body.

"Let's see what I can do to sort that out then." Blaise was going to sort Draco out; Draco knew this because he heard the words, but then Blaise's mouth was on his chest, his teeth tugging at Draco's right nipple and then his left, and Draco's brain went on indefinite holiday.

There was a wet tongue laving at Draco's right nipple again, and he shivered violently when Blaise's warm breath blew against his damp skin. Draco was unable to stop shuddering as Blaise teased his nipples, and flexing his fingers against their stiffness, Draco's slid his fingers up Blaise's shoulders, threading them through Blaise's hair easily.

Blaise's body was dragging against Draco's cock as he moved, and Draco bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood to keep from coming prematurely. Not that coming after being subjected to Blaise's hands and body was premature, but still, he had to uphold some standards.

"Thank fuck," he hissed as Blaise's wet mouth moved lower, licking, nipping and blowing warm air the entire way.

"I would tell you to be patient," Blaise paused, his eyes narrowed in amusement, "but I don't think that's possible."

"If you don’t suck me right now..." Draco tightened his fingers in Blaise's hair.

"You'll what?" Blaise's countered, letting the fingers of his right hand slip between Draco's legs to find the sensitive spot behind his testicles.

Draco had meant to sound authoritative, but his voice seemed rather tremulous to his own ears, and he made an 'nghhh' noise.

He'd thought any sort of movement away from his nipples would stop the twitching in his legs and his toes, but Blaise's tongue in his navel made his toes curl so hard they cramped, and Blaise's teeth on his hipbone and his fingers gently tugging at Draco's balls made it impossible for Draco to stay still. He growled loudly, and Blaise glanced upward and bit down hard. That was going to leave a mark.

Draco was going to have a wank in the bath later while touching that mark and thinking about the way Blaise looked with his mouth abused and Draco's fingers in his hair.

It was quite the visual.

And yet, it paled slightly next to Blaise's relentless manipulation of his prostate.

By the time Blaise's tongue flicked against the head of Draco's cock; he didn't have any restraint left, and he came somewhat violently, pulling on Blaise's hair as he arched up off the bed. His sore and abused body contorted in a strange sort of bliss-mixed-pain, and he could feel his lungs opening as though he hadn't taken a proper breath in ages.

"I hate you," he panted as Blaise knelt between his legs and wiped several white spatters off his cheek, all while giving Draco an extraordinarily amused grin. "I want a rematch."

Draco's body was currently not receiving any orders from his cerebral cortex as Blaise had killed all his brain cells, but his eyes tracked Blaise's movements cautiously as Blaise stretched out above him.

"You want a rematch for the honour of your inability to control yourself around me? Is that what you want?" Blaise's tone was extremely mild, although he appeared rather smug as he rubbed his neck absently.

"I don’t fancy you that much," Draco griped when Blaise gave him that enigmatic smile again.

Draco could sense Blaise's tension; it was charging the air and the room and the hairs on Draco's forearms. It was making him a little crazy, and he was unable to stop himself from shivering when Blaise leaned down and whispered in his ear. "I think you do."

"Only in your dreams." The scathing nature of Draco's retort was hampered somewhat by his stuttered breathing as Blaise dragged his knuckles along the side of his ribs, and he was taken completely off-guard as Blaise's arm slipped under his back and he flipped them over again.

Draco had never been a morning person, and Blaise's ability to not only function, but to exude large amounts of sexual magnetism so close to waking was disheartening. Plus, his energetic wrestling moves presented a serious problem for Draco's equilibrium.

Draco sat back on his haunches and realised Blaise's attention wasn't on him, kneeling over Blaise's thighs, but on reaching behind them into his bedside table.

Blaise wasn't even looking at Draco when he said, "I'm going to fuck you," but the confidence of Blaise's tone made Draco's head swim.

Every atom of Draco's body fizzled when Blaise turned back and fixed Draco with a sure look. It was fucking nice to have someone he trusted be in charge for a bit, even if said person was lying on his back underneath Draco, but Draco couldn't help smirking as Blaise dropped a condom and a small bottle of lube on the bed beside them. "I thought I was supposed to get used to you being on top."

Blaise's eyes were impossibly dark as he picked up the small container of lubrication and began coating the fingers of his right hand. "I can compromise," he said in a low tone, causing Draco's cock to twitch in interest.

There was a hypnotic quality to watching Blaise rub the clear fluid between his thumb and forefinger, and when the fingers of Blaise's left hand slid up his thigh, Draco automatically rose onto his knees and crawled just over Blaise's ribs.

Blaise's gaze was unwavering as his right hand moved between Draco's legs, and Draco felt the twinge in his right thigh as Blaise's hands brushed between his legs just under his balls. Blaise's fingers were cool against Draco's overheated skin, and he let out a moan as Blaise's fingers found his opening and rubbed gently, probing and stroking without doing anything else.

Setting his hands on Blaise's shoulders, Draco began rocking back to meet the tips of Blaise's fingers, but after several minutes with no penetration, he reached down and grabbed Blaise's forearm. "Now," he demanded, but Blaise just smiled furtively.

"You don't tell me what to do," Blaise said, shaking his hand free of Draco's hold. "Or when to do it, or how to do it. I'm your partner; I am not your property."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I thought we'd been over this already," he said, trying to keep his hips still, which was proving rather difficult as Blaise's fingers touched here and there and everywhere but where Draco wanted. "I know that –- I just, fuck --"

Blaise was clearly going to tease Draco until he begged, but that was never going to happen –- Draco hoped. "If you ever put me second again, you will be sorry, Draco."

Draco scrubbed his face with one hand; here he was, trying to get fucked, and Blaise was being a fucking hardarse. "I know, I know. I'll be making this up forever."

"Not forever," Blaise smirked, "just until I'm satisfied." And Draco had something to say about that, but he forgot whatever it was as Blaise chose that exact time to slip the tip of his middle finger inside Draco. So along with losing his burgeoning erection, Draco also lost the ability to hear or communicate.

With a shuddering breath, Draco pushed back and sat on his heels. Blaise's fingers were entirely too big and too long, and Jesus Christ, Draco remembered quite well why he tended to give and not receive. Apart from the initial tension and the actual work, this feeling was too good not to make him dim-witted and bloody-minded permanently. "Oh, fuck," he hissed, clenching his eyes shut as he rose up and down repeatedly, slowly at first and then faster.

"Too much?"

Draco could hear something very close to mirth in Blaise's voice, and he opened his eyes immediately and grabbed Blaise's forearm in a vice-like grip once again. "If you stop, I will ring my brother and have you shot," he said through clenched-teeth.

Blaise's toothy grin was somewhere between endearing and slightly manic, and Draco whimpered as Blaise wordlessly added another finger. It was entirely too much at one time, and his knees were complaining something fierce; he bit his lip hard to keep from saying God only knew what.

Blaise was calling his name, but Draco was a bit occupied with getting himself off. Even his cock was getting back into it, and he made a horribly piteous noise when Blaise pulled his fingers out. "What the fuck are you playing at?" Draco snapped, only to have heat flush his cheeks when he realised Blaise was holding the condom out to him.

"Any time, your highness," Blaise snapped, but Draco couldn't even be bothered to reply. Instead he busied himself with ripping open the foil packet and moving back so he could put it on Blaise.

Blaise's cock was thick and flushed dark under Draco's appraising eyes, and he licked his lips thoughtfully before rolling the condom on. "I have plans for you later," he said conversationally as he grabbed the lube and slicked Blaise's dick. Before Blaise could answer, Draco had repositioned himself and he paused for a moment when Blaise propped himself up on his elbows to watch.

Blaise was biting his lower lip, and his eyes were huge. He looked –- he looked just like he always looked, apart from the naked business, and Draco sighed. This was good. This was right.

"Are you sure about this?" Blaise asked.

Draco just rolled his eyes. "I've been ready; I was just waiting on you."

---

Watching Blaise walk away, upside down, did bad things to Draco's sense of orientation. Kicking his legs free from the damp linens, he rolled back onto his stomach and whistled lewdly as Blaise collected various items from his wardrobe. "Have you always had such a nice arse?" Draco asked curiously.

"I don't know," Blaise said, pausing in the doorway, presumably on his way to the toilet, and giving Draco a leisurely once-over. "You tell me."

Blaise's hair was sticking up at the most extraordinary angles, and Draco felt the corners of his mouth twitch. So he'd been known to stare at Blaise's backside, and Blaise knew it. Considering the fact that Draco'd just had Blaise fucking his backside, it didn't seem like a good time to be picky.

Blaise would just have to remember who was in charge here after all. "I suppose it's passable," Draco began thoughtfully. "But I wouldn't quit my day job if I were you."

Draco was still laughing when Blaise's balled-up socks bounced off his shoulder and landed on the duvet cover. "Everybody's a fucking funny man," Blaise griped. "Are you planning to lay about all day or have you thought that perhaps you might go into the office? You do remember the office, don't you? It's that place where people do work."

Draco groaned and pulled the duvet over his head. "I've been to work already this week and it was shit: escorts in the papers, escorts shagging each other, traitorous receptionists and backstabbing Heads of Security working for my brother. Did you know that bit, because I certainly didn't? It's never too late to call in sick," he announced to the soft moss-coloured linens on Blaise's bed.

It was warm and damp underneath Blaise's duvet, and it smelled quite obviously of semen and sweat and them. Draco's dick twitched in some strange semblance of territoriality, and he groaned, looking up curiously when Blaise pulled the duvet cover back.

"You do recall the conversation we just had with Pansy about us coming in and you talking with her boyfriend, right?" Blaise was holding his clothes against his hip with one hand, the other holding the duvet over Draco's head. His skin was flushed and damp. "There's also this matter you need to share with me regarding 'backstabbing Heads of Security and traitorous receptionists working for your baby brother' as you so eloquently put it."

Draco rolled his eyes, except it was hard to be indignant when he was revelling in post-shagging lassitude.

"I haven't got anything to wear," he said as a matter of course, his eyes roving over Blaise's soft dick contemplatively.

Draco smirked victoriously when Blaise's cock twitched under the intensity of his stare, but he scowled when Blaise knocked his questing fingers away. "Wear something of mine," Blaise said blandly.

The corners of Draco's mouth twisted into a grin. "I didn't know we were at this stage in our relationship yet."

Blaise dropped the duvet on his head. "Stop being a wanker and get out of bed."

"How do you know I'm a wanker?" Draco poked his head out of the bedclothes, and watched the muscles of Blaise's backside release and contract as Blaise crossed the room again. "You've never even seen me have a wank."

Blaise looked over his shoulder, covering his amused chuckle by rubbing his nose. "Yes, well, everything in its right place. Perhaps we should start with you getting out of my bed and going to get the morning paper."

Draco made a growl of displeasure even as he finally extracted himself from the linens. "There are laws against this in other countries you know; it's called Cruel and Unusual Punishment."

Blaise leaned against the wardrobe and watched, his mouth spreading into a lazy smile as Draco crossed the bedroom to find something suitable to wear. "I'm going to need your keys as well," Draco said, pulling a Dolce & Gabbana tracksuit jacket, grey cotton boxers and a pair of worn jeans out of Blaise's chest of drawers.

Blaise plucked the boxers out of Draco's hands and threw them in the general direction of the bed. "You won't be needing those," he said authoritatively. "And what's wrong with your keys then?"

Draco had meant to frown, but the enticing look Blaise gave him was making it hard to focus. The blood had only just got back to his head. "Someone changed the locks," he said pointedly, grabbing another pair of boxers, this pair black.

Again, Blaise picked them up and discarded them. "No, I didn't you idiot, you just couldn't get the key in."

Draco glanced upwards. Blaise's eyes were bright and his lower lip was twitching with undisguised amusement; Draco very much wanted to bite it. "Are you calling me incompetent?"

Blaise's shoulders lifted up in that elegant shrug. "If the Ferragamo fits."

Draco scowled. Reaching around the edge of the wardrobe, he grabbed Blaise's forearm and yanked him forward. "Shut up," he said kissing Blaise harshly, and letting his fingers rub carelessly up Blaise arm.

Blaise just laughed, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. "This is interesting; I insult you and you snog me. We'll have to explore this further after work."

"So you're not tossing me out on my rear? That's lovely to know." Draco had meant to sound sure of himself, but the sentence turned itself into a query, and he berated himself internally for sounding so uncertain.

This was not the time to have doubts; Malfoys -– Draco -– didn't need doubts in his life. Nevertheless, he was coming off something of a losing streak with that appalling, double-crossing spy business –- he couldn't afford to muck things up with Blaise.

Blaise rolled his eyes and dropped his handful of clothing on the ground in order to pull Draco around the edge of the wardrobe. "Do you think I would have given you keys in the first place if I wasn't trying to get in your trousers?"

Blaise's question seemed rhetorical enough as he was holding Draco against him quite possessively. "And I thought it was just because we were best mates."

"Don't be thick," Blaise mocked

There was a tiny scar high on Blaise's left bicep that Draco had never seen before, and he stroked it with his fingers. "Fair play to you," he said eventually under Blaise's appraising gaze. "I was just hoping I'd get to take drunken advantage of you at some point."

Blaise made a snorting noise as Draco's fingers stroked his collarbone. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, idly drawing patterns on Draco's hip.

They seemed to be doing something very close to cuddling, but Draco wasn't going to inquire as that might've sent them both into a testosterone panic. "I don’t suppose you'd fancy another round?" he asked as his fingers dipped into the tiny divot in Blaise's clavicles.

Blaise shook his head and extracted himself from their clinch. "You're a tricky one," he said, running his fingers through his hair as Draco gave him an inquisitive smile. "Very tempting, Mr Malfoy, but someone around here has to make a living."

Draco made a scoffing noise, even as Blaise bent down and gathered up his clothing. "I've heard that people who are shagging the boss don't have to work as hard," Draco replied as Blaise stood up, gave him a scratchy, stubbly kiss on his cheek and headed towards the toilet.

"You've obviously never met my boss," Blaise called back.

---

Draco didn't have the foggiest idea what time it was when he left Blaise's flat for the off-licence, but two secondary age girls were loitering across the street, having a smoke and probably skivving off from school. Their shrill, pubescent voices made Draco's ears throb.

He, Blaise and Julian had been sent up to Scotland ((Gordonstoun) after being tossed out of Eton and St Albans for 'unbecoming behaviour') where sneaking a fag behind the bike shed wasn't just forbidden, but was downright stupid as their school was surrounded by forests and one lit fag could've burned down everything in all directions. Obviously that hadn't stopped anyone from smoking, but they'd all been much more solicitous of stubbing them out than other boys their own age at other schools.

Draco wasn't terribly certain what had suddenly made him so nostalgic for his school days; life certainly hadn't been easier then. At least he didn't think it had been, but overt nostalgia wasn't one of Draco's faults, and he shook off the memory easily.

It had stopped raining, as evidenced by the children outside and the whole lack of rain business; the ground was only slightly damp as Draco took a sharp left around the hedges and began walking down Camden Road.

Most of the cars that tended to be parked outside the flats were gone, signalling the start of the workday. The London sky was blue and clear, the rain having washed away any sort of mugginess or stickiness in the air, and Draco's borrowed trainers made slapping noises against the pavement.

Blaise's feet were half a size smaller than Draco's, but Draco had no desire to walk around in his ruined Bruno Magli's, and since he wasn't going to be wearing Blaise's footwear for long, he would manage. Looking good always tended to come with a price.

It was a strange to be kitted out in someone else's clothing, even if it was Blaise's, and the idea that Blaise had been wearing the same soft denim and the thick cotton did nothing to calm Draco's already-excitable hormones. He stopped mid-walk and scowled down at his body. He wasn't some besotted teenager; he was a man, he didn't act in this manner. He was not controlled by his dick, and he jumped when a car horn blared right next to him.

A strangely familiar voice interrupted Draco's momentary contemplation. "I thought you might be here."

Draco turned slowly, taking the time to convince himself that he hadn't heard who he thought he had, and really, someone was going to pay for someone attempting to pick him up like common trade. "Piss off, you fu—- Severus?"

Draco blinked at the sight of his reserved solicitor, sitting rigidly behind the happily un-tinted windows of a late-model Mercedes sedan. "Fucking hell, Severus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"You're entirely too young to have a heart attack," Severus Snape announced brusquely through the cracked window, gesturing for Draco to come closer. "Kindly leave the histrionics at the kerb when you get in the car."

Draco stepped off the pavement and made his way over to the car. "They're not histrionics," he said pointedly, tilting his head to the side and considering his solicitor appraisingly.

Severus' jet-black hair seemed somewhat less styled than usual, and Draco had a horrific flash of his mother's fingers in Severus' hair. It was just the trick for killing off all of his hormonal agony. "Aren't you the one who’s been going on about the Rough Trade Killer or some such business?" he said, peering into the car. He could just make out the blonde head of Severus' driver, who was sitting erect and frontwards as though in terminal fear of making eye contact.

Severus made a dismissive wave. "Haven't you read the paper? Apparently there was no killer and all those murders were simply tests of the emergency services. It's this great big scandal since they've made the papers look like idiots, but I don't think that's terribly hard to do. Enough about that, get in the car, we have an appointment to keep."

"Where are we going?"

Severus gave Draco a sardonic glare. "For a drive."

Draco shook his head. "If it's all the same to you I've had enough cryptic drives about town. I'll pass."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Draco Lucien. Get in the car."

"I am not getting in the car, so I suspect we are at an impasse." Draco gave Severus a knowing smirk and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The material was extraordinarily thin, and Draco could feel the muscles on his thighs shifting as he moved his weight from one leg to the other.

Severus' upper lip curled. "If you do not get in this car right now, I will tell your mother that it was you who broke her favourite Ming vase in your sixth year while having your school friends around, including one Mr. Adrian Pucey, who I believe you were seeing at the time against the express wishes of both your mother and Lord Pucey."

Draco balked. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." The smile was slow to come to Severus' features, but when it did finally emerge it was all sharp white teeth and subtextual threats of violence.

Draco took a step back. He trusted Severus with his mother and his business, but he'd had entirely too many surprises recently. He wasn't in the mood for anything cryptic or revealing or anything having to do with anyone except Blaise. "I'm afraid I'm a bit tied up right now," Draco said. "I'm off to get the paper; Blaise is waiting for me."

Severus gave Draco a piercing glance, which Draco didn't look away from. He had nothing to hide –- for once. "I'm sure Mr Zabini will understand that you wanted to say goodbye to your brother," Severus said after a several tense moments.

Draco's heart tripped in his chest, and everything he'd suppressed so well came rushing back. "Fuck," he said softly.

"Language," Severus chided.

"Bugger," Draco corrected absently.

Julian couldn't be fucking leaving; he'd just arrived. Of course he'd also apparently offed their father like some mafia hit man, which was disturbing to say the least, and Draco briefly flashed back to finding Julian sitting on the sofa in his lounge, all done up like -– like a fucking hit man.

God, Julian was so fucking dramatic. He was also Draco's twin, and he couldn't just leave; they had matters to discuss.

An inappropriate bubble of hysteria rose in his throat, and Draco reached out for the handle at the same time that the door swung out to meet him. He slid onto the stiff leather seat beside Severus, and was still closing the door as the driver slipped the car into first and made a huge U-turn. Except that Camden Road wasn't made for U-turns, and Draco watched curiously as Severus turned crimson all the while berating his driver for being an 'idiotic twit' who 'couldn't do a proper three-point turn in the middle of an airfield'.

By the time they were in the correct direction, heading south down Camden Road, Draco could see the perspiration forming on Lockhart's hairline. Severus, however, had sat back next to Draco looking as pale and calm as ever.

It was almost as if Severus kept his composure in the palm of his hand, like a card trick. When they were little, Draco and Julian had thought Severus had magical powers because of his ability to remain calm at all times -– but apparently he had met his match in Lockhart.

Draco kept his eyes focussed to his right as Severus shifted next to him. "You stood up your mother," Severus said flatly.

Draco turned towards his solicitor incredulously; he could feel both of his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. "Pardon?"

Severus gave him a severe glance. "You were expected for tea; you missed your appointment."

The open window was letting in a draft. It made Draco's ears tingle. "What appointment? You cancelled the meeting about the audit."

"I did no such thing; cancel a meeting, whatever would my clients think? Your Mr Zabini said the meeting was postponed and that we would reschedule."

Draco pursed his lips; he couldn't really say what Blaise had said to Severus as there had been the whole falling out bit and the throwing of chairs and the drinking –- Carling Black Label was piss. He was a bit out of the loop currently, but Severus didn't need to know that. "Yes, well, regardless, I have not stood up my mother. I would never do such a thing. In fact, I will have you know that --"

Draco's protestations died off as he went back through the last 48 hours and remembered the conversation he'd had with Severus after he'd rowed with Blaise.

He had said he would bring Harry to tea to meet his mother. Good Lord.

Draco twitched when Severus spoke up. "I see you have finally decided to join the conversation. I was beginning to think you had been irreparably harmed at some point in the last several hours. Your mother is quite vexed that you didn't ring."

Draco opened and closed his mouth; they were turning onto the High Street, and he was at a loss for words. This was Severus and Severus knew. Perhaps not about Harry or the dead body, but he knew about Draco's father. "Obviously I would not have done such a thing unless there were extenuating circumstances." Draco wondered if it was possible to feel cagey, because there was no other word for how he felt sitting next to Severus at that particular juncture of time.

He kept his head facing forwards, even as Severus turned towards him. "I see, and these extenuating circumstances left you without a phone?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they did," Draco snapped.

His caginess was fracturing in his chest; he was becoming peevish and nervous and tense. He opened and closed his hands into fists, feeling the stiffness from the day before that he'd momentarily forgotten with Blaise.

"I thought Malfoys didn't conduct themselves in such a manner," Severus said blithely as they turned up Haverstock Hill.

Apparently, they weren't going to 28 St Edmunds Terrace, which set off a rather large set of alarms in the back of Draco's mind -– however, he was a bit occupied with being hacked off.

"A Malfoy? What is a Malfoy exactly?" Draco asked bitterly, shifting against the pliant navy leather. "They're just a figment of someone's imagination."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus' tone was as sharp as a blow to the face, and Draco's jaw clenched even as he forced himself to relax his hands and rest them on his jeans. Blaise's jeans.

Draco had nothing, but he had Blaise. And his business. Perhaps a name change was in order. "Malfoys are nothing," he said curtly, meeting Severus' haughty glare with one of his own.

"Do not ever let me hear you say such a thing again." Severus' tone was clipped to a razor's edge. "Your mother has worked entirely too hard for too long to make something for you and your brother for you to go around feeling sorry for yourself, or her, or anyone else. How dare you insult her this way?!"

"Who are you to say what my mother would want?" Draco inquired rudely. "You're certainly not my father -– although, apparently, no one is terribly certain who he is, or was, or whatever the case happens to be."

"Do not ever question my feelings for your mother," Severus' voice dropped an entire octave, and the muscles around his eyes tightened. In his peripheral vision Draco caught Lockhart's full body twitch. "Do you really think that I continue to be a presence in your life because of work? Don't be a simpleton. I could hand your business needs over to one of my minions without so much as a second thought. I am not here for business. I am here for your mother, and yourself, and your brother. I have changed your nappies –- do not raise your voice to me."

Severus' tone in itself was a warning, but Draco couldn't bring himself to heed it. His head was going to explode from rage and hurt; his entire body was tense with anxiety. He felt an overwhelming need to pull small tufts of hair out of his head and only refrained from doing so because he didn't want to have to answer to Blaise about it later. "So I have no right to feel betrayed and used; is that what you're saying?"

Severus sighed deeply, and Draco scrubbed at his own face in resignation. He hadn't shaved in almost two whole days; the stubble abraded his palms.

"What I am saying," Severus began, "is that life is not always going to be tea and cake and bespoke from Addison & Steele. You must learn to accept this before you go insane or bald."

Draco glanced at Severus between splayed fingers; he couldn't help noticing that Severus seemed uncharacteristically pensive and thoughtful. It was jarring.

Severus carried on. "Whomever your mother and father are, they are not you. You must make your own way, and you can be whomever you choose to be."

Draco rubbed at his temples; he needed three Nurofen and a whiskey. "That's easier said than done when your brother is off whacking people."

Severus cleared his throat. "Yes, well, you are not your brother either."

"Thank God," Draco muttered.

"That does not mean you should care for him any less. People make mistakes."

Draco gave Severus an incredulous look as the car pulled over to the side of the road off Parliament Hill. Draco would've recognized the Heath anywhere, what with all the joggers and the people with dogs and the men loitering about looking for trade. "Dear God, Severus, are you actually showing some sort of understanding and feeling? The world must be ending."

Severus frowned. "I am making a point, Draco, do not cloud the issue with emotion."

"Yes, because it would never do to actually be upset about being double-crossed and lied to."

"That is not what I am saying. What I am saying is that it is not necessary to rebuild the entire house simply because one or two bricks are faulty."

"Building metaphors, Severus? You must be on your last legs of reason." Draco sighed and straightened up as much as possible. His body was feeling constricted; he needed to get out of the car. "I need to borrow your phone," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Severus raised an eyebrow even as he extracted the silver mobile and dropped it into Draco's outstretched palm. "Calling up the reserves to come and save you?"

"Hardly." The tension in Draco's chest began to abate as he dialled, but returned just as quickly when the person on the other end didn't answer. Obviously Blaise was still in the bath, where Draco should have been as well. He could just imagine Blaise's skin, wet and soapy, his dark hair plastered to his head, and he shook his head when the answer phone beeped. "Blaise, I've had to, ah, go out unexpectedly. " Draco ignored the amused look Severus was giving him. "I'll meet up with you at work; I don't know when, but don't --"

The answer phone cut Draco off, and he pulled Severus' mobile away from his ear and scowled at it. "The stupid, buggering thing cut me off," he said, hitting redial on the phone. "I have to ring—"

Draco protested vehemently when Severus pulled the phone away. "This is not the Crusades," Severus said, closing the phone and slipping it inside one of his jacket pockets. "You'll be gone a few hours, not the next five years. I'm sure Mr Zabini will survive until you return."

Draco exhaled a long breath as Severus looked from him to the door to the Heath pointedly. "Yes, I'm sure Blaise will survive," Draco griped as he opened the door and climbed out of the Mercedes. "I'm just not sure that I will."

He turned back to Severus, who remained firmly ensconced in the backseat of the Mercedes. "You underestimate yourself," Severus said mildly as Draco closed the door and leaned down to the cracked window. "Being a Malfoy has nothing to do with your surname."


--on to part two—