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Worth the Price

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Harry’s feet ache, his legs burning in protest, but it appears there is no end to this extremely long day.

“Draco,” Harry whines, grasping Draco’s wrist and forcing him to a stop. “Are we nearly done yet? We’ve been shopping for hours.”

“It hasn’t been that long.” Draco brushes off before continuing his steady pace towards the next street of stores.


“Besides,” Draco spins around, pouting. “It is my birthday and you promised you’d buy me whatever I wanted.”

“I know…” Harry hesitates, shifting the numerous shopping bags in his hands. “But, don’t you think we have enough stuff?”

“Hardly,” Draco says dismissively, hurrying towards a large window display. “Look, Harry! I heard this store just opened up last week. Just look at all the lovely shoes.”

Draco’s eyes go wide in excitement and he rushes inside, followed reluctantly by Harry.

The store is small—one of those fancy boutiques—and there are only a few of each style of shoe displayed on the walls. A rack rests on the other side of the wall, merely four sets of robes (all nearly the same shade of blue) hanging from it. There is a small changing room in the corner, a dark curtain offered for privacy, and an ornate overstuffed bench sitting directly next to it. It’s the type of shop Harry normally avoids and Draco can’t get enough of.

“What do you think of these dress shoes?” Draco asks, lifting a glossy brown shoe up for better inspection.

“Don’t you have a pair just like them?” Harry responds, setting the bags down and trying not to feel claustrophobic in the tiny shop.

“I most certainly do not,” Draco scoffs. “These are made in Italy and are supposed to be the latest fashion. You must be thinking of that pair we got in Greece last year—so very last season.”

Draco’s eyes light up and he quickly drops the shoes in his hand, rushing over to the boot section.

“These are just divine,” he exhales, hands reaching towards the shelf.

“Aren’t they lovely?” A young shop clerk comes over, flashing them both with a blinding smile. “We just got them in yesterday and they’re nearly sold out. Feel free to try them on if you like.”

Draco nods eagerly, snatching the boots from the shelf and swiftly seating himself on the bench. The clerk moves away to help another customer and Harry sighs, moving towards Draco and his new find. Harry’s mouth, however, goes dry the moment he lays his eyes on the boots. They are tall, textured, a deep inky black colour and quite possibly the hottest thing Harry has ever seen. Draco removes his shoe and slides the boot onto his slender foot, the pliable material stretching over his leg. The boot hugs Draco’s calves, the very top just reaching below his knee, and Harry can feel his cock stir in interest.

“Harry,” Draco calls out. “Can you help me lace these up?”

Harry drops to his knees instantly, hands reaching out to the glorious boot wrapped around Draco’s foot and leg. He can smell the leather from here, rich and earthy, and he inhales deeply in order to consume the scent. The boot is soft beneath his hands, but the dark crimson laces are rough and textured between his fingers as he slowly tightens them up. His fingertips skate against the tiny silver hooks at each pass of the lace, and his cock throbs within the constraints of his trousers.

Merlin, these boots are incredible.

His hand rubs slowly up and down Draco’s boot-clad calf, chewing his lip as he marvels at the subtle pattern woven into the material.

“Er, Harry?”

Harry looks up from under lowered lashes and can only imagine what Draco sees. The hunger and lust must be clearly painted on his face because realisation quickly dawns into Draco’s eyes and he opens his mouth in surprise. No words escape, however, as Harry glances over to the store clerk and—finding her still preoccupied with the other customer—stands up and drags Draco swiftly into the changing room. Harry tugs the curtain close and immediately drops to his knees again, mouth and hands all over the boots.

“Harry,” Draco moans, eyes wide with wonder and arousal.

Harry groans in response, tongue tracing the intricate hooks on the boot, his hands gripping the back of Draco’s legs. Draco’s hands sink into Harry’s hair, gripping tightly and tugging ever so slightly. Harry peers up and sees the unmistakable bulge in Draco’s trousers, hard and thick and begging to be touched.

“You look so fucking hot in these boots,” Harry murmurs, hands undoing Draco’s trousers and pulling his cock free from his pants.

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about fashion,” Draco responds, the end of his sentence morphing into a needy whine when Harry swallows his prick whole.

Harry massages the head of Draco’s swollen cock with his tongue, lips sliding along the shaft as he scrambles to unzip his flies and pull out his own prick. The cool air is a welcome relief to his fevered cock and Harry drags the tip of it along the edge of Draco’s boot, leaving a trail of sticky pre-come in its wake. He fists himself urgently and continues to suck Draco down, delighting in the noises of pleasure escaping Draco’s lips.

Draco’s fingers curl and dig into Harry’s hair, his hips stuttering and cock pulsing as he spills his release into Harry’s waiting mouth. Harry pulls back and swallows the sweetly bitter fluid, continuing to tug his cock fiercely, eyes trained on Draco’s gorgeous legs adorned in their magnificent boots. His bollocks tighten in warning, a barely suppressed cry escaping his mouth, as he shoots his release all over the fancy, new boots.

Harry’s vision darkens slightly in the wake of his orgasm, heart racing and breathing ragged, before he’s brought back by Draco’s soft chuckling.

“Well, I do think you’re going to have to purchase them now.” Draco’s face is beautifully flushed as he looks down at the mess below him.

Harry feels a bubble of laughter rising in his chest as he fires off a cleaning spell. Those damned boots are rather expensive, but something tells him they will be worth every sickle.