Squishy

Squishy

by maladict

"I get the distinct impression that you're enjoying this, Malfoy." Harry felt an elbow jab uncomfortably into his ribs.

"Mmm... I'm stuck in a very small space with my very worst enemy, what's not to enjoy?" Swallowing, Harry shifted ineffectually, trying to ignore the fact that the owner of that rich, smooth voice was pressed up against him in every which way that mattered and even a few ways that didn't.

"Well, pretty much everything." Harry shoved at Draco, who was wiggling in an obvious attempt to put more space between them. "Quit moving around like that it's uncomfortable enough as it is. Ouch... Malfoy! I happen to like my limbs in working order, thank you very much. What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get comfortable too, Potter. Funnily enough this little disaster is just another thing in this big, wide world that does not revolve solely around you."

"Bloody hell, out of everyone in the universe that I could be stuck here with, it just had to be you." Harry kept still as Draco rearranged himself; finally settling down into a configuration that involved long legs tangled intimately with his own. Running a hand into his messy hair, Harry willed his mind to think about something else, glad that it was pitch black in the space and Draco could not see his face.

"Could be worse. Could have been Hagrid."

Harry took a moment to consider logistics. "Point."

"How long do you reckon it'll take them to find us?"

Draco shifted and his knee jostled against Harry's inner thigh. Clumsily jerking his leg away, Harry swallowed and forced himself to answer. "Hours, days... who knows?"

"They might never find us. What if we die down here?"

"We're not going to die down here, Malfoy," Harry answered, wishing with all his might that he could distract himself from the warmth of Draco's body and the tenuous points of contact that were ensnaring even the more rational parts of Harry's brain.

"It'd be a pretty ironic way for the Boy Who Lived to go; starving to death with his schoolyard enemy."

"Just shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "Somebody will find us."

"Right."

There was silence for a time. Harry expelled a breath and tried to focus his mind on NEWTS, hoping that the stress levels would counteract his purely hormonal response to the close proximity of the other boy.

"What if they don't?"

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed angrily, having almost purged his mind of Draco's sultry voice and was making steady progress with the related images.

"I once heard this story where this muggle air transport thingie - "

"A plane." Sighing, Harry resigned himself to an uncomfortable and sexually frustrating wait, realising that he could no sooner shut Draco up than muzzle a dragon.

"Yeah, that. Crashed into a mountain. And the muggles had to eat each other to survive."

"Oh."

"Would you eat me?"

"You're twisted, Malfoy."

"I'd eat you," Draco said happily.

"God, do you always babble this much?" Harry fought the urge to reach for Draco and shut him up in the most convenient and pleasurable way he could think of, wondering idly what that voice would sound like if it were muffled by Harry's own lips.

"Only when I'm extremely bored and it's a choice between babbling like a loony or banging my head against a brick wall."

"I wish you could bloody well start banging your head then before you drive me out of my skull with your nonsense."

"Can't," Draco said dismisively.

"Why not?"

"It's too unstable, I might cause the whole structure to collapse in on us."

Harry chewed on his lip while he evaluated the situation. "I think it's worth the risk."

"Patience is a virtue, Potter."

Harry mumbled something that sounded like, "Not if it keeps one from wringing a Malfoy's scrawny neck."

A haunting tune started, weaving its way around the small space like a subtle spell and dragging a lump into Harry's throat at the low, seductive vibrations.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"I'm humming."

"Humming?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it's that thing where you make noises with your throat but you keep your mouth closed."

"I know what humming is, Malfoy, I just want to know why you are doing it."

"Bored," Draco managed between hums.

"Hell, at this rate I'm going to be the one banging my head on a brick wall."

Draco stopped humming. "It's not working anyway. I'm still bored."

"Ok, Draco I get the hint. You're bored. So am I for that matter and it doesn't help that I'm stuck down here with an insufferable egomaniac like yourself. But there's nothing you or I can do about it and your incessant babble is not helping. So please shut up."

A few minutes ticked past in silence.

"Well, aren't you curious?"

Biting back a frustrated scream, Harry tried to unobtrusively disentangle his legs from Draco's. "About what?"

"Don't you want to know which part of you I'd eat first?"

"I said I was bored, Malfoy, not that I was so starved for stimulation that I need you to tell me all the sordid fantasies that seem to run wild in your imagination."

"Your ankles."

"What?"

"Your ankles," Draco repeated. "They're gorgeous. I've never seen ankles quite as lovely as yours."

A pause. Harry waited for the joke to come, the insult that was meant to follow a statement like that but none appeared to be forthcoming. "You are seriously screwed up, Malfoy."

"Yes, quite possibly."

***

"Malfoy. Malfoy, what are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Malfoy, that's not nothing... that's definitely something..."

"Mmm... do you like it?"

Harry gulped as a slender finger insinuated itself into his sock and brushed lightly over the jutting bone of his ankle. "You're... you're touching me!?"

Draco laughed softly, a rich sound that echoed gently in the small space.

"Oh my god, Draco that was... and your tongue was...and oh, god." Harry tried in vain to free his foot from Draco's grasp but Draco held firm.

"Problem?" Yes. Very definitely a problem. A large problem. One that was threatening to get a great deal, well... larger.

There was a scuffling sound as Harry grabbed at his ankle in desperation and kicked at Draco with his free foot. Draco grunted in surprise and let go. Curling as tightly as he could to the wall, Harry tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and Draco. "Back off, Malfoy. Whatever you're playing at, it isn't funny."

Draco didn't reply and Harry wondered if he was sulking. Half a minute later the infuriating boy was whistling.

"Harry, truth or dare?"

Harry frowned, wishing with all his heart that Draco's thigh was not pressing up against his own and making him see stars... amongst other things. "Malfoy, we are trapped in a small space underground somewhere and neither of us can see a thing. Such an environment is not conducive to publicly humiliating dares. And there are no truths that I particularly want to share with you... and since when have you been allowed to call me Harry?"

"I wasn't aware that there were rules regarding the use of a person's first name."

"Well, there are. I just made one. Call me Potter," Harry said shortly.

"You don't want to play truth or dare then?"

"No."

"But I'm bored," he wheedled in a singsong voice and Harry became convinced that as a child, Draco would have easily managed to nag the pants off a giant.

"No," Harry refused emphatically, wondering idly about the logistics of using magic to silence the prat.

"Fine." Draco flung himself back against the wall, which caused his thigh to press even closer against Harry's. Harry bit into his tongue and tried to think about something else... anything else.

"Harry, what if we like, need to go to the toilet or something?"

"Potter," Harry repeated, knowing that it was futile but, being a Gryffindor, persisted regardless. "If you need to go to the toilet, Malfoy, then I suggest you hold it and pray that the wait is not a long one."

"No, I don't need to go. I was just wondering. It'll get a bit stinky down here if we don't get rescued today though."

Harry screwed up his face. "I really don't want to think about that right now."

"Oh, ok." Draco started to hum a little and Harry tried to relax, hoping desperately that somebody would rescue them. Soon.

"So do you want to?"

"Malfoy, I can not read minds so please qualify your statements. Unless you want to be unintelligible, in which case I am going to start ignoring you."

"Oh, you know," Draco said casually. "Fuck."

Harry very nearly choked on his own tongue and collapsed into a round of coughing so vigorous that Draco began to pat him on the back in concern. This did not help matters. Not one bit.

"I know you're up for it. It's the reason you got us stuck down here in the first place."

"I got us stuck? Malfoy, it was you who-" And Harry's mouth stopped functioning as two long legs wrapped around him and the weight of a body was dumped solidly into his lap.

"You were saying?" Harry felt a breath ghost against his skin and the tip of a nose was dragged from the hollow of his neck up to his ear.

"Umm... I'm not sure -uh- we should..."

"Come on. I'm bored, you're bored; having sex will pass the time," Draco said matter-of-factly, flicking his tongue over Harry's skin. Harry couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes close and leaning into the caress. "Mmm... that's better. Now, I like being touched on the lower back. You can start there. What do you like? Or... wait. Have you ever done this before?"

Harry's eyes snapped open. "Of course I bloody well... No, oh no. I know what you're trying to do." Grabbing Draco's hips, Harry tried to wrench the boy off him. "Come on, off. I'm not playing this game."

"I'm a Malfoy, Harry," Draco said in some surprise, completely ignoring Harry's ineffectual attempts to dislodge him, other than to tighten his legs.

"And?" Harry gave another futile tug at those hips.

"Nobody ever refuses a Malfoy." It was not a threat, just a statement and suddenly there were warm lips pressed against his own. Judging by the way that Harry's brain completely shut down to everything but the feel of those lips, and that tongue feathering cleverly against sensitive skin, it appeared that this Malfoy was indeed going to get his way.

Harry gasped and tried to disengage. "Maybe we should... ngh, Draco I can't think when your mouth is..."

"Thinking's not required," Draco said a little breathlessly. "Just keep moaning and writhing around like you were."

"Draco..." Harry managed, through sheer strength of will (or Gryffindor stubbornness), to pull away from Draco just as things were getting interesting. "Umm, what does this mean, exactly?"

"It means I'm bored, you're hot, and the feel of your legs brushing my thighs is getting close to driving me up the walls."

"Oh."

And well, Harry found out that there were worse things than being stuck in a very small space with your very worst enemy. Especially when one discovered that all the fantasies that the said enemy had inspired were about to become shockingly real.