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It had been a sad day at Grimmauld Place when Kreacher had finally given up the ghost. Learning laundry charms had never really been a priority during Harry’s year on the run, and so he had resorted to muggle means, getting Arthur Weasley to help him install a dual level washer dryer.
Having a washing machine was one thing, but remembering to use it was another. He was down to his last set of clothes, when he smelled his stale garments and realised he would need something fresh to wear for his date with Severus that evening. There was just enough time for a load if he was quick, so he shucked his jeans, boxers, socks and t shirt into the top opening, and pottered around in the kitchen while he waited for the cycle to finish.
Thirty minutes later a bell chimed on the machine and he hauled his clothes out, throwing them into the spin dryer below. Hopefully he still had enough time to get out the worst of the moisture before Severus arrived. He sat on a stool, watching the clothes going round. Jeans, T shirt, socks. Jeans, T shirt, socks. Jeans. T shirt. Socks.
Fuck, where did his boxers go? Harry groaned, realising they were probably rolled up in a corner of the washer and he had missed them when he had first unloaded the machine. He leaned into the depths of the cavernous drum, twisting and turning to find the pesky pair, when suddenly he felt a sharp tug on his scalp. Oww. No matter which way he turned he couldn’t seem to get free, and realised he was stuck. His wand lay on the kitchen table just out of reach, and his attempts at Accio echoed uselessly in the tinny space.
Even worse, he was stuck in the deepest part of the machine, leaving him pressed firmly against the machine, and the spin dryer had just hit the peaks of the spin cycle, whirring and vibrating rapidly. He felt his cock inevitably stirring from the stimulation, and knew any moment now Severus would walk into the kitchen and most likely mock him for his stupidity, while Harry tried to disguise his unfortunate boner.
A silky baritone voice interrupted Harry’s musing, and confirmed his worst fears.
“I had my doubts about this muggle contraption, but now I’m beginning to see the appeal.”
“Oh, ha, ha, very funny. Just help me out will you.”
“Certainly.”
Harry gasped as Rough woollen fabric rubbed against his buttocks, and a firm bulge ground against his arse.
“That’s not helping.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps if I understood the problem more clearly I might be able to tailor my solution a bit better.” Lean hips notched Harry closer against the rumbling machine, pulling a groan from his throat. “Just what were you trying to achieve when you inserted yourself into that gaping hole?”
Harry felt himself flush at the filthy innuendo that tripped off Severus’ silken tongue.
“I was trying to get myself ready for our date tonight, and I forgot my boxers.”
“Obviously. And the rest of your clothes too it seems.”
“Look, I put a load in here earlier, missed a bit, and got stuck trying to pull out.”
“Yes, I noticed your wand just abandoned on the table. Thank goodness the Dark Lord didn’t find you on a wash day,” came the snarky reply.
“Maybe you could use your hand and give me a quick tug? That might loosen things up a bit.”
“Certainly. I thought you’d never ask.” Strong, potion stained fingers wrapped themselves around Harry’s length, giving it a few short strokes.
“Wrong knob.” Harry choked out.
“Perhaps a little lubrication might assist you in your endeavours.” Harry could just make out an ebony wand being directed at the opening and panicked.
“Careful, muggle technology doesn’t react well to magic.”
“Mmm. Then what would you suggest?”
Harry thought about the options available in the small kitchen.
“Use the fabric softener from the counter next to the machine.”
Severus picked up the bottle of homemade softener, reviewing the list of ingredients written in Harry’s typical spider scrawl. Water, glycerine and natural oils. Yes, that would do nicely indeed. The soft scent of apple blossom filled the air, and the ex-potions master was almost impressed with Harry’s domestic skills.
He poured out a measure of the liquid into his cupped hand and reached forward, before tipping out the freezing cold solution down Harry’s back.
“What the fuck did you do that for?”
“My apologies. My hand merely slipped .”
Harry shivered as the softener dripped down his body, then froze as fingers traced the tracks on his skin, following them downwards to where they ran over his puckered rim. He bit his lip, holding his breath, as fingertips circled his entrance, teasing the orifice.
“Not a bad brew. Perhaps your domestic skills are not as terrible as your current predicament would have me believe.”
“Thank you,” Harry squeaked from inside the drum.
The spin cycle was intensifying, and the dual stimulation from the vibration of the machine on his cock, and the finger pressing at his arsehole was heavenly. Unable to resist any longer he let out a moan. That one small noise was magnified by the metal chamber he was trapped in, and acted as a red rag to a bull, encouraging Severus to work more fingers into the tight opening while he squirmed and wriggled helplessly.
More softener was slicked onto digits, and Harry was left panting and sighing while Severus lubed up his twitching rim. There was the clank of a belt, and then blissful fullness as a thick prick pressed into his rosebud. Low grunts permeated the air, and Harry struggled to keep his head in a comfortable position as each thrust moved him backwards and forwards, feeling like a piece of clothing being whirled around in the drum.
“What’s the difference between you and a washing machine?”
“What??”
“I said, what’s the difference between you and a washing machine?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve got me trapped in a washing machine, your dick is inside me, and you pick right now to crack a joke?”
“Obviously.” Severus punctuated his response with a deliberate snap of his hips that nailed Harry’s prostate dead on, leaving him reconsidering his earlier snarkiness.
“Fuck, okay, okay. Tell me, just don’t stop.”
“There’s no difference. Things go in dry and stiff, and come out limp and wet.”
Harry groaned, and wasn’t sure if it was from Severus’ pounding of his prostate, or from the awful pun.
A slick hand returned to Harry’s cock, and all thoughts rapidly left his brain.
“I’m so dirty Harry. Will you take my load?”
“Hnn, Hnn, hnn.” Severus barked out a laugh as he realised he had reduced the Saviour of the Wizarding world to incoherent babbling and humiliating noises.
“That’s right. Take it. Take my load. Fuuucccckkk.” Severus sped up the motions of his wrist in desperation, and managed to pull Harry’s climax from him just as he painted Harry’s insides with his spend.
Spooned against Harry’s back, he slid his hand into the opening of the machine, and gently tugged the messy locks, freeing his captive partner.
Harry tumbled to the ground with a dazed expression on his face, glasses askance, and his cock drooling the last traces of his orgasm.
“So, did you find your boxers?”
“No, I was a little distracted. Can you grab them for me?”
Severus rolled his eyes at his ridiculous Gryffindor, then turned to examine the machine himself. He felt a pinch at his waist and realised Harry had stolen his ebony wand, using it to shrink the machine opening, leaving him now stuck in place.
“Oops. Maybe I can help you with some practical instruction about how to handle a load yourself Sev?”
He had to hand it to the cheeky brat, he would have made a brilliant Slytherin.