ca_tharsis_ (ca_tharsis_) wrote,

Postcard Proposition

Credit: Sexy Draco by hpfanatic97

There was something sacrilegious about a wizard of Harry’s abilities taking a day job in the muggle world, yet he did it. He wanted friends and he wanted to feel useful, needed. He didn’t have to work, but life after losing his son in a nasty divorce, made working a better alternative to sitting in a dark house feeling like a total failure. He illustrated greeting cards. Since his company used a digital platform, the job required an eye for detail more than it did artistic skill. He worked from a database of pre-made art and arranged each picture according to the assigned text given to him. His boss, Draco Malfoy seemed pleased by his efforts.

That would’ve been great, if Harry hadn’t also seen something quiet and intent in his boss’s eyes. He told himself he was just imagining it, until he got the dinner invitation. That startled him. He was pretty sure bosses did not go around dating their employees. He ignored the invitation, only to find himself cornered in the men’s bathroom after everyone had left for the day.

“I’m still waiting for my answer, Mr. Potter.” Mr. Malfoy made a pretense of washing his hands. He spoke to Harry over his shoulder.

Harry remained inside the stall, hesitant to come out and speak to a man who’d obviously made it a point to wait on him. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Um, I’m not sure that’s considered ethical, Sir. Human Resources...”

“Oh, please. Don’t turn this into a sexual harassment case. You’re a grown man, Potter. If you don’t want to go out with me, just say so. Don’t hide behind Human Resources.”

Sighing, Harry came out of the stall. “It just seems really unprofessional for you to approach me like this. And I’m not gay.”

Draco snatched a paper towel and dried his hands. He kept his back to Harry. “You are as uptight as a virgin on a bullet train.”

Harry went through the motions of washing his hands. It was his way of showing that he wasn’t running away, he was walking away. Draco made a point to watch, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. It was obvious that he admired the view.

“I was looking over your resume. I noticed that you graduated from the Imperial in London.”


“And… I hired you anyway.” He smiled, and the thing about it was that it was as appealing as a child’s smile. Not a hint of animosity. But the way he blocked Harry’s access to the paper towels, assured Harry there was nothing innocent about him.

Harry went around him to the hand blower. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I checked. There was never a student there by that name.”

He was reaching for the door, then stopped. He kept his back to Malfoy, who came up behind him.

“I always research my interests. I knew you were different the moment you stepped into this place.”

Harry stiffened at Mr. Malfoy’s hands on his back. Long fingers sliding up his jacket, stunned his defenses. He tried to turn, to shrug his boss off, but the other man pressed him into the door.

“Don’t panic, Mr. Potter. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to give you something.”

Harry felt his jacket being lifted and those warm fingers pulling his dress shirt from the back of his pants. “Leg go.

Even he didn’t sound convincing to himself. Malfoy’s body, so close to his, emitted something he hadn’t felt in two years. His blood heated in response. He’d been celibate that long, and it probably showed. Some people were predatory like that, only interested in the ones who wanted nothing to do with them.

Harry was caught between wanting to take a swing, and wanting to see where this was going. Malfoy surprised him by slipping something rough and cool down into the band of his underwear. It felt like paper. Harry could’ve kicked himself for liking it.

Malfoy whispered against his ear. “Tell me, where do you keep your wand, Harry?”

Alarm flooded his heart. No one was supposed to know that.

Malfoy pulled back. He let go, taking his warmth with him. The ache this produced in Harry, plummeted him into further confusion.

His boss nudged past him and opened the door. “And Harry, I don’t give a damn whether you’re gay or not.” His wink, was the last word on the matter.

Harry didn’t open the envelope until he got home. He expected something inappropriate and blackmailing, and finally ripped it open to get the worst over with. He’d just have to quit. If Malfoy didn’t leave him alone, he might have to do something more drastic.

The contents stopped all thought. It was a postcard. A wizard postcard. On it, Malfoy reclined in a selfie. Shirt open, hand down his pants, he posed in an outdoor setting. His stare targeted Harry. True to wizard style, his body breathed and his hand moved languidly inside his briefs. Hey lay on the bare ground with Magnolia blossoms scattered around him, and mouthed the words to Harry, ‘Fuck me.’

Offense had Harry’s lips tightening and his hands shaking. Malfoy was a wizard. He must’ve known that Harry was also, for a while now. Harry swallowed, not sure what to do with his rage, and too stunned to take his eyes off the moving photo. A note fell out with it.

‘Mr. Potter, I’m impressed with your work. Should you ever tire of our nonmagic line of cards and want a challenge, a senior position awaits you in our Adult, magical line.”

The thing about the card, was that it wasn’t just a photo. It was more like a video. A pornographic video. Malfoy didn’t just touch himself and writhe teasingly. He completed the act. It worked with Harry’s stare. If he looked away, the image stopped, paused indefinitely. If he continued to look, the image resumed it’s recorded message. In this case, Malfoy worked himself into a flushed, perspiring frenzy as his hand picked up the pace. He soundlessly spoke Harry’s name.

Malfoy’s skin was so fair, it was easy to see his blood rise to the surface of his skin. Harry’s eyes followed it as it moved up his abdomen, rolling up each muscle group until it splotched his chest. His eyes closed and his cheeks went scarlet as he rode out the flow of his climax.

Mouth open, Harry didn’t realize he was panting as he watched. He could practically feel the heat rolling off of Malfoy’s body. The hand moving beneath the denim, was going crazy, and Malfoy’s abdomen and jerking hips told the real story. Harry watched, hypnotically, as Malfoy’s crotch darkened. With his body still shaking, that spot of wetness spread through the fibers. Coin-sized, then going oblong as it drenched the fabric.

Malfoy’s eyes didn’t open until his spasms subsided.

It was 3:00 A.M. before Harry could put the card down without picking it up again. Offended, humiliated, disgusted and awed, his psyche went through a gambit of emotions. He couldn’t get through watching it twice, without joining in, but that was only because it was more sex than he’d had in two years and refused to feel guilty for giving in. All three times. Who was this wizard? And even if he did take the job, how was he going to keep the guy off of him? A wank in the privacy of his own home did not equate to wanting anything to do with person.

But it was too late. He knew that he was going to accept the promotion.


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