Disclaimer: Is there any cross-dressing in Harry Potter? No? Then I still don't own it.

Notes: Hey, it's my first Harry/Draco sex scene! Gah, I hope it isn't too bad. -.-;;

Feedback: Worshipped.

Ice Cream Quickie

By Kick Flaw


Harry squinted blearily at the light slipping out from beneath the kitchen door. The soft thud of the refrigerator closing was the only sound he could make out in the dim, early morning silence. It couldn't be later than three, damn it. And here he was, nearly tripping down the stairs, trying to figure out why all the warmth in his bed had suddenly disappeared.

Cursing the magically powered candlelight ferociously, he thrust the swinging kitchen door open and aimed a sleepy glower at its sole occupant. Who, due to the pair of top-quality headphones, remained blissfully unaware of his presence. The lithe form bobbed about in a loose rhythm, obviously sparklingly awake and unrepentant. His sock-clad feet glided idly in what Harry deemed to be a modified, much shortened waltz --accompanied by mild headbanging and the dull drumming of a spoon on the counter top.

Grumpily sighing, he hoisted himself clumsily up onto the table and resorted to observing this bizarre event. It wasn't often one had the privilege to view the Draco Malfoy in its private habits.

Draco twisted his hips slightly beneath the loosely tied bathrobe his Aunt Priscilla had given him last Yule. A soft murmur of lyrics whispered from his lips. It was odd. Muggle music was the single thing the blond had latched onto upon his reluctant integration into the non-magical world -and with a deep, almost obsessive love at that. There was something that made Harry smile, albeit unwillingly, at the formal-dance-turned-rave-worthy move Draco turned. It was so...Malfoy.

Draco hummed, but refrained from singing more; apparently he was courteous enough to keep the noise down, even if he'd up and left in the middle of the night. Harry was about to reach over and grab him in revenge, when he noticed it.

Ice Cream. His lover was very smoothly, amidst all his headbanging, sliding the curve of his spoon into the carton of Double Chocolate Fudge they'd picked up at the market last week.

And, more importantly, sliding the small scoops directly into his mouth.

Harry stopped in mid-motion, fascinated, as the dull silverware, topped by its delicious treat, skidded across Draco's bottom lip, dipped between his teeth and dropped just enough to release its treasure onto his tongue. With a nearly inaudible 'mmm', the blond let it melt in the heat of his mouth and travel down his throat giddily. Then he dove in for another.

Suddenly, Harry's was very much alert.

All thoughts of sleep and exhaustion quickly fled and his brain, single- minded as it was, conjured up all sorts of exciting images.

//Draco, nude, sitting with his legs splayed. The carton of ice cream in front of him, between them, drawing the eye//

//Draco, dragging the spoon seductively across his lips, leaving a smear of chocolate//

//Draco sucking ice cream off of his fingers//

//Draco sucking ice cream off of * Harry's * fingers//

//Draco sucking ice cream off of Harry's...//

If there was one thing Harry was, it was determined. Once he figured out exactly what his goal was, nothing short of death -or a good telling off by Hermione-could stop him. He would win. He would be victorious. He wanted sex.


With the sneaky movements of a tiger on the prowl, he crept off the table. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slunk closer and closer, until barely an inch separated him from his oblivious victim. Draco jerked sleep-mussed hair off of his forehead, swallowing another leisurely bite. With a devious, hormone- driven grin, Harry pounced. Firstly by carefully removing Draco's precious headphones and sweeping the CD player to a safe place.

The spoon hit the ground next, clanging its unhappiness at being torn from Draco's warm mouth. Then the carton of ice cream, which did more than thud dully and skitter away from what looked to be a massacre in the making. Ice cream isn't known for its bravery after all. Finally, with an unmanly shriek, a few fleshy smacks and far too many four letter words strung together than could be called decent, Draco followed his fallen midnight snack.

"Harry!" he, well, tried to shout, though it came out a bit muffled as he had a mouthful of the boy in question's tongue to speak around. Actually, it sounded more like: "Nnarrmmmm..."

Which sounded far too much like a purr for his liking. He'd intended it to be indignant and surprised, not lusty. That would only encourage Harry.

Harry didn't need much encouraging. He proceeded to yank the loose ties of Draco's bathrobe open and push it off of his shoulders, though his impatience didn't allow him the time to pull the other man's arms out of it. Instead, the sleeves bunched at the blonde's elbows. Moments later his legs were inexplicably spread apart, his back flat on the tiled floor.

Draco blinked --moderately stupefied by how quickly Harry had managed to kick out of his boxers and throw their bodies together. The dark-haired boy thrust feverishly against him, shameless in his quest for satiation. It was about that time that his body caught up with his mind, and red-hot zings began to shoot across his vision. He moaned, long and deep, the sound filling his mouth as his head tipped back to release it into the air.

"Ohhh...k...this is s-sudden..."

"Quiet." Harry's eyebrows knitted together in concentration. His muscles were tensed from the cords of his throat to the tendons in his ankles. Everything he had -compacted into finding relief.

Panting, Draco locked his legs around Harry. Thrusting quickly, creating friction and heat and sweat and that seeping wetness that always comes from harsh arousal. He felt his back slide along the kitchen tiles with each scorching surge.

Harry, fiercely biting his lip, braced one hand beside Draco's head to keep his balance, and brought the other to the blonde's mouth. He'd swept the last traces of fudge-flavored cold away with his kiss, leaving only the wet heat to envelop his first two fingers. The sensation magnified with each heartbeat -Draco sucking hard, tonguing the pads, nipping lightly at the knuckles. He drove down faster. Faster --Erections pressed tightly together.

Their mutual cries and the scent of sex-soaked skin pervaded the previously silent room. At the last possible instant, Harry's hand scrambled wildly across the floor, searching. He grasped desperately at the carton of ice cream as his body tightened into blinding knots of tumult.

He delved glistening fingers into the darkly flavored treat, cold coming as a sudden shock to his overheated system. Draco moaned incoherently beneath him, jerking his head so that locks of silver hair slanted across his features.

Harry traced his way back to that mouth, where he was again enveloped; his fingers dipped in cold pleasure.

Scent and sensation and heat tightening, tightening, and when Draco opened his stormy eyes in surprise, it all combined into a spiraling descent through multicolored steam blasts.

They sobbed together as it rode them through, leaving them spent and silent when it was done.

Almost, anyway.

"They should have a warning on that ice cream." Draco said, exhausted. " 'Beware: Proven to be a strong aphrodisiac. Do not consume around horny, over sexed or otherwise hormonal persons.' I think that took all of five minutes."

"More like three. What flavor was it? I'm buying the entire store out."


* * *

I want more ice cream.

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