Author: WiseDraco PM
1920's. PI Harry Potter and whole new case for someone who is gonna throw him for a loop. Slash ppl! Don't like? Don't read!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Humor - Draco M. & Harry P. - Words: 2,440 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 14 - Published: 03-11-08 - id: 4124841
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hello my lovelies! Me again! Ok…upon first reading this…it may not make complete sense but by the end of the story it will! Promise!
No Flames. I got one for Shades Of Gray…some little punk ass who told me I was a shit writer and left it Anon. So if you are reading now punk ass…screw you!
But to my others: Thank you for your constant support. It means more then you know.
New York, New York
July 16th, 1925, 6:07 p.m.
It was hot. Which was normal…considering the month.
Hot enough to make ya feel like the second ya stepped outside ya needed to go back in and take a shower.
Sweat stuck to my body like a heavy blanket, thick and choking and never, ever, willing to give way. Not to even the slightest breeze that blew through my open window.
The crime rate had gone up lots since the temperature had hit the high nineties and I was glad, for once, that I wasn't no cop. I had worked half my life to become one, but my temper always got the best of me and the chief, Johnson, sent me packing before I even got started.
I'd been sore at first but now…well now, I was glad. Being a Private Investigator fit me. I was good at my job, got my clients what they wanted faster then any other P.I. in the whole city.
Since the start of the Depression though not much work had been around, but me, lucky son-of-a I am, snatched one right out from underneath Gentry down the hall.
Some tall redheaded fella lookin for some girl.
There was always a girl I told him; he shook his head at that. Said this one was different, was special.
I didn't say nothin' 'bout what he thought. All broads was the same in my eyes. All lookin out for themselves, and wantin' to get there hooks in ya. My ma was the only woman I trusted and she had been dead for quite some time now. Her and my Pops, both dropped dead right 'fore I turned eleven. Don't miss 'em much, nah…don't 'member 'em much neither.
The redhead sent me a picture of 'er though, and boy was she somethin'. All long leg and hip. She didn't have an ounce of a rack from what I could see of the picture but I wasn't much into big hooters anyway, they always messed me up when I fucked a broad.
The fella didn't know much about her. She worked at some bar, Fantasy its name was and her name…her name was Delia.
A 1924 Chrysler Six pulled up to the local bar on Perry Street and out stepped a tall handsome brunet, face set in a hard concentrated line, green eyes flashing. Despite his heavy Queens accent there was no way to mistake the intelligence glinting in those bright emerald eyes.
P.I. Harry James Potter, or so he called himself, had been around the block a time or two and knew his city like no one. Knew where to find everyone you could think of. From the uptown hookers to the low rate businessmen that seemed to fill the streets like a bad smell coming off all the garbage littering the sidewalk.
A bright neon sign illuminating the name Fantasy hung midway up the small two-story building and Harry walked through the small door's throwing it shut behind him.
If it was possible, it seemed to be hotter inside the bar then it was outside.
"Beer." The brunet grunted and not a second later a frosty glass slid across the scarred top of the bar and slammed into his hand. Harry took a drink and grimaced, "Tastes like piss." He commented but downed it just the same and ordered another, tossing the money onto the table and glancing around the room for his newest subject.
Forty minuets, three beers and five handfuls of peanuts later there was still no sign of Delia. Harry grunted again and cursed the man who sent him out on this wild goose chase. For all he knew the woman in the picture could just be some tomato the redhead had clipped outta the newspaper.
"Hey there fella." A smooth voice whispered and Harry jerked, twisting to look where the sound had come from. And there she was…Delia. The picture Harry had gotten of her did her no justice. Harry may have not been much of a poet but he knew a good lookin broad when he saw one.
Big smokey eyes blinked at him, dark smudges surrounding them and making them look larger. Delia's hair was a light gold blonde that hung down to her shoulders, done up in tight curls. Her skin was all smooth and pale, long thin arms, one cocked to her hip the other dangling at her side, adorned that wonderful long body. Shapely legs seemed to stretch to her neck and her torso was covered in a small black outfit, barely hiding anything at all.
"Ma'am." Harry tipped his hat, something flared in those eyes but she moved on, "You look lonely hun…want me to get you a drink?"
Harry shook his head, "No thank you." First rule of being a P.I., never, ever get involved with your clients or their jobs.
Delia shrugged, "Well…if you want one…you know where to find me big boy."
The brunet just tipped his hat again and turned back to his drink and she left, not bothering him again.
It went on like that for quite some time, Harry would go in Fantasy and find out a little more about Delia. What she liked to do, sing, how long she had been working at Fantasy, only six months and several other things.
Each and every night the redhead called in search of more information about his fixation and each time Harry gave him another piece to the broad's life. But something went terribly wrong on one of the nights. Harry broke his only rule and found he could never again be the man he was.
"Hey there fella." Delia greeted and just like always Harry tipped his hat, his Momma had been a born city girl but his poppa had been born and raised in Gravelswitch, Kentucky and he had taught his son to always be a gentleman. Even if he didn't like a woman, he always respected her.
But instead of her normal 'You look lonely…let me buy you a drink.' She pulled out stool and sat next to the tall brunet. Harry didn't really know what to do so he continued to sip his beer, after a moment he offered to buy her a drink, she smiled politely but shook her head, "No thank you hun…but you can order me one. You look like a hard workin' fella….what do you recommend?"
He looked at her and then at the barkeep, "For a hard day? Whiskey…"
The bar man nodded and poured the drink, setting it next to Delia's hand. She smiled again and knocked back the shot. Harry looked at her surprised and once again felt that heat between his legs he always seemed to get around her.
The hard liquor glistened wetly off her full, pouty, pink, mouth and before he knew it he had her against the bar lips working furiously against hers, tasting whiskey and sweat and some sharp smokey flavor of cinnamon and those cigarettes Delia seemed so found of.
She clung to him, like one of her little outfits that she wore all the time. One leg was lifted, wrapped delicately around Harry's hip and the other was on the ground, trying to hold herself up, but having no luck as the brunet continued to grind himself into her crotch.
Harry was a man possessed. He had to have her nude…had to…now! He picked her up easily and carried the blonde up the stairs, still nipping at her mouth.
Delia moaned heavily and Harry stopped at the second landing to once again shove his ready erection in-between her long silky legs. She whispered his name and a thrill tore through Harry, how he loved hearing his name slip from those pretty lips.
Finally up stairs he tossed her onto the bed and undid his belt. That was when Delia seemed to come to her senses. She got up and bolted for the door, her eyes wild. But Harry snatched her around the waist, "Where are yougoing?" he asked her, rubbing against her backside.
She whimpered and struggled to get away, "You don't want this with me….trust me Harry."
"And what makes you think I don't want this?" His arms tightened considerably and his hands grabbed her waist, grinding harder into her.
A moan came from the pale body before him but were once again followed with words, "We can't do this…you can't do this…you won't want this."
"My body says I do…"
"No!" She tore away from him and made for the door, but he was faster and slammed it closed when she managed to crack it open.
He flipped her around, "You are not leaving baby…you want me…want me to fuck you into that mattress…I can feel it."
The blonde's knees seemed to give way and she leaned against the door panting. "Trust me…you really don't want this!"
"Yes…I do." And he grabbed his small outfit and tore it away.
A gasp came from his mouth.
From both their mouths.
A heady erection bobbed from it's original position between Delia's thighs and smacked against her…his stomach. Harry's hand came up and gripped the other's chin, "You're a…a…a man?!"
Tears slipped down his pale angelic face and he nodded, his eyes closed most likely readying himself for whatever blow was to come against him.
Harry, it seemed, didn't care. In fact his breathing was far harsher, breath coming in heavy uneven pants as he yanked the other male to him and devoured his mouth.
The blonde moaned loudly as his jutting erection brushed against the thick cotton of Harry's pants, "G-G-God…" he stuttered and the brunet tossed him onto the bed again and shed his pants all the way and crawled onto the mattress, straddling the pale man.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard…" he hissed, the other nodded furiously and leaned up, pressing his mouth against the brunets.
"Fuck me Harry…do me so hard…want to feel you…"
Harry groaned and flipped the stormy eyed man over, rubbing his erection over his lover's already loosened entrance. "You like that baby? Hm? You want me?"
The other shoved his hips back, arching into Harry's dripping need, his whole body quaking. "Yes Harry! So badly! Want you so fucking badly!"
The green eye man nodded and tore off his own shirt, wanting to feel his lover's back slide against his sweat coated chest, but left his hat on. After all P.I. Harry James Potter never took it off, the brunet grinned and shoved inside his blonde's tight heat.
The blonde's head went back and he let out a throaty groan, Harry making much of the same noise. The brunet shoved his hips forward and back, slamming into the pale man's prostate again and again.
Harry got up just slightly and placed his hands above the other's head, fisting the head board, the blonde braced himself and Harry plowed forward, his hips coming so hard and so fast they forced the other's knees off the bed and into the air.
The bed slammed into the wall, the sound echoing through the room and the spell, that had held surprisingly well, began to slip away. The dirty look of the hotel room fell and in its place came the look of a furnished room, with a heavy plush green chair in the corner and a roaring fire at the front off the room.
The sound of the bed frame slamming to the wall increased as the room got bigger and the bed frame itself got heavier.
One of Harry's hands reached under his pale lover and gripped his erection, "Fuck I love you Draco…"
The blonde only nodded, to enthralled in what was happening to form words, and before he was given any warning Harry's hand slid down his cock and his orgasm ripped from him, Harry's name coming from his mouth.
The green eyed Wizard followed, all out screaming the blonde's name and shooting his seed deep inside his lover of seven years.
Draco's arms gave way as did Harry's and they fell in a heap onto their plush, thick green comforter. Draco began to wiggle after a moment and then complain, "Harry! Ger'off!"
The brunet laughed but did as asked rolling off his Draco, knowing the blonde would follow him moments later to lay across his chest. And he did.
The former Slytherin settled against Harry comfortably, one leg lying across Harry thighs, his head rested in the crook of the brunets shoulder and his long slender fingers playing with the thick raven locks.
"So…that was a pretty good spell baby." Harry mused, Draco gave an affronted bark of laughter, "Good? HA! It was brilliant, fulfilled every bit of that little fantasy of yours, right down to the barkeep."
Harry simply smiled and pressed a kiss to Draco's soft feathery blonde hair, the curls he had still intact. The silver-eyed Wizard had been wary of that at first but then Harry had warmed him up to the idea after promising Draco anything he wanted.
"So love…" Draco kept on, "About my Fantasy…"
There you are! It should make sense now! I have intentions of continuing with this but it won't honestly have a plot. It's going to be a very Smut filled little piece. So if you enjoy it…put it on Story Alert! I have every intention of continuing with it! And hey…if you have an idea for Draco's Fantasy…please share! If I like it…then I'll use it!