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Harry had an uncanny sense of luck. However slim the odds, or impossible the outcome, things had a habit of falling in his favour. Take the events of that afternoon: with the Canons trailing Puddlemere by one hundred and forty points, and less than ten minutes left to play, the championship had seemed decided. For God knows what reason, his team had been playing like shit. Then the Puddlemere Seeker had spotted the Snitch.
Harry couldn’t let the match end that way. The league games this year had been hell. Everybody had worked so hard. Losing this game would mean a premature and disappointing end to the season. Harry should have lost the Snitch. He hadn’t spotted it early enough. The Puddlemere Seeker was flying closer, faster, his hand already reaching out. A stray bludger caught the fucker’s broomtail and spun him off course into one of the stands. Harry shot past him and grabbed the Snitch with the crowd roaring. One hundred and fifty points. Game won.
The Chudley Canons were the unexpected champions of the BQL; the team’s first win in over thirty years. Harry had been hoisted onto his teammates’ shoulders in front of forty thousand international supporters, and the newspapers were already calling his catch one of the greatest finishes in history.
After a week of enduring the media circuit in central London, Harry flew home to his private estate in Surrey. He was rarely home but missed it dearly while he was working. As soon as the front doors opened to invite him in, he thumped his heavy travel bag to the ground. There he left it as he stripped off, showered and fetched himself a drink.
In the off-season, he was allowed to be more frivolous with his diet, within reason. So he laughed like a cheeky schoolboy up to no good when he spotted the beer and chocolate in his fridge. Had his housekeeper stocked it for him, knowing he’d be home soon? If so, he deserved the fattest raise.
Harry snatched up the bottle and packet and threw himself down onto the sofa to watch some television. With a heavy, relieved sigh, he watched a game of rugby, happy to judge someone else’s sportsmanship, rather than his own, for a change. By all accounts, his night was going entirely to plan. There was just one thing missing.
Harry watched those sweaty rugby players grabbing each other’s thighs and arms. They rolled in the mud, red-faced and angry, and he found his hand drifting down under the towel circling his waist. This season was hell. Seven months without a hookup, whilst training with six hot men and women (plus reserves) every day, had been a challenge. But fucking one’s coworkers felt awfully Ministry-coded - that place was a hotbed - and Harry couldn’t risk seducing one of them for short-term gain. More than that, finding time to date around his busy training schedule was difficult, so how was he supposed to find someone he wanted to share his life with?
While he was jumping from city to city, country to country, for work, the loneliness only hit him in the evenings. In those quiet hotel rooms that looked the same wherever he went. But in the off-season, even Harry’s home felt dull. Silent. Sharing it with someone was what he ultimately wanted. To pull somebody into his arms and kiss them until he grew weary. To cook with them and listen to their stories, to garden together outside and then fuck in the shower. But Harry didn’t have that. Previous partners hadn’t been able to keep up with his lifestyle.
That left him here. Alone. Fisting his cock to a rugby game. Wishing something hot, fun and willing would fall into his lap.
And, as luck would have it…
The hearth opposite the sofa began firing up.
Okay. Okay. Okay.
This was fine. All Theo was going to do was pop in and talk to Harry Potter. The Harry Potter, as of last week. Greatest Quidditch player who ever lived. The papers were even calling him The Chosen One. And Theo had gotten his owl address.
He’d thought about penning him a letter, but this man probably had a gazillion fan letters just waiting to be read. Theo was not about to become the gazillionth-and-one. He was going to do his best, with little to no know-how, to seduce the greatest sports star the Wizarding World had seen in the modern day.
Only as the floo powder in his hand fell to the ground did he begin to question what the hell it was he was actually doing. As he spun through another dimension, he regretted not scripting something out first. A ‘hey, how are you doing’ at the very least.
Theo landed in Harry Potter’s lounge, stepping out of the hearth, finding the man himself, thighs spread, stroking his suckable cock on the sofa.
A script would have been a waste of time. Theo couldn’t remember his own name now.
“What the fuck?!” Potter exclaimed, dragging a corner of a fluffy, cream towel over his lap. It did nothing to hide the man’s shape or the pulsing of that thick cock beneath.
Well, hey, maybe this would be easy. If Potter was already horny and wasn’t immediately kicking Theo out or turning soft, perhaps he’d be game.
“Hello,” Theo said, struggling to find the right etiquette for this situation.
Never had he ever seen an erect cock, in real life, that wasn’t his own before. One might forgive him if his tongue was a little loose and his brain was scrambled eggs.
“Hey?” Potter replied, his black brows raised high as though to say ‘explain yourself’.
“Right. ‘Hello’ isn’t enough, and you must be wondering why I’ve come. I’m Theo,” he said, holding out his hand for the man to shake. The offer went unanswered because yep, that hand was holding a cock. “Fuck. Granger sent me?”
It wasn’t strictly true. Granger had given him the address. She had said nothing about this, but she’d receive an earful in the morning if this went well. And even more if it didn’t.
Potter seemed to relax only slightly at the mention of his friend’s name, the tension in his shoulders easing. He pulled his hand from under the towel, as though speaking about Granger and wanking were an uncomfortable combination for him.
“Hermione sent you? To me? Right now? For what?”
The green eyes of a champion flicked over Theo’s frame. He was sure they did!
“For what? Oh. Uhh–” Theo shook his head from side to side. Was there any point in beating around the bush considering Potter had already started? “For fucking, I guess.”
A sharp, incredulous scoff lightened the mildly awkward tension in the room. Potter said, “I assume you put her up to this? Because delivering jocks by floo is not something I’ve ever asked of her. And this network is supposed to be closed off to any unknowns.”
That made sense. Why would a national star have an open floo?
How the fuck did he get through? How had he not been scattered across Britain in a few thousand tiny horny pieces, his last request being for him to be shipped to Potter?
“I’m not unknown,” Theo said confidently. “I’m an Auror. You’re in safe hands.”
Potter smacked his lips together in understanding, and stretched an arm over the back of the sofa. The other conveniently slipped back under his towel. Either Potter was the easiest man to seduce, or Theo was doing something right.
“It’s a shame you didn’t turn up in the uniform. Are you a good Auror?”
Theo wasn’t the best on his team, but he was successful. He wasn’t a fuck up, if that’s what Potter meant. If Potter stepped out of line, Theo could get him to the ground on his belly, hands behind his back, in a second flat. He was good at his work, if that turned the man on, but he didn’t have the highest scores going. Technically. He was far too tardy.
“I’m alright. Draco’s better.”
A flicker of recognition was reflected in Potter’s expression, and he said, “I remember you. You were one of Malfoy’s lackeys. Still are, then? Another shame.”
Pardon you? How fucking rude.
Theo scoffed dramatically, and Potter smiled. “I’m his friend.”
“You’re– What’s your name? Snot?”
He rolled his jaw. Another answering smile. “Nott,” Theo corrected.
Potter hummed. “Yeah, you’re a pureblood, but you’re not straight. Interesting. I thought you lot feared cock unless it’s being used to create the next heir.”
Quietly, because sexuality wasn’t a topic Theo ever frequently talked openly about, he said, “I guess I’m unique then.”
He was proud of that. It sounded good as he spoke it in a slightly scratchy whisper. It felt hot. Potter had other ideas, saying, “Unlikely. You’re just desperate. That’s why you turned up here uninvited for a hookup without any prior communication.”
Well, he’d been beaten.
Theo shrugged. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”
Please, Gods, let this man be equally desperate.
So this had never happened to Harry in his life, nor to anybody he knew. Attractive men - with a slight attitude - didn’t just drop from the heavens ready to fuck. Harry had to think about this. The sensible thing to do was to tell him to leave, but, again, how often did a fantasy like this actually happen in real life? Fuck, Harry had dreamed about this sort of thing happening every night while he’d been working. He wasn’t just going to dismiss Nott without looking into this a little deeper (read: looking at him a bit better).
This slutty Auror was wearing a two-piece suit, because that was the only smart thing a stuffy pureblood like him knew how to dress up in. It was cute, Harry supposed. Clearly the idiot had thought about how to present himself.
“I don’t know yet. I’ve hardly seen any of you. Take some of that off,” Harry said, gesturing to Nott’s blazer and tie.
Quick hands tore the two articles off. Nott, rather endearingly, folded his blazer over the back of the nearby armchair, then stood tall as though expecting another instruction. It was that mentality that had Harry softly stroking himself again. There was something here. Something about Nott that made him far sexier than his appearance alone could explain.
He had soft curls, electric-blue eyes, a thin pair of lips, and a muscular frame. Lean but fairly tall. Similar to Harry’s height, but lacking the width in his shoulders that Harry had developed over years of training for harsh tackles. Nott knew something about the rigour of that lifestyle, though he used his strength for wrestling criminals instead of doing mid-air acrobatics. Mm. That was hot.
The ability to kick him out of the house was slipping further away by the second, simply because Harry was picturing him bent over the back of the armchair like that blazer.
“Shoes,” Harry nodded downwards, and Nott kicked them to one side. “Now the shirt.”
“Does this mean we’re fucking?”
There was something giddy and almost naive in that question. Something about it implied that Nott hadn’t had many experiences with other men, and so didn’t know just how quickly a relationship could escalate. But Harry chalked it up to that excitement the man had arrived with. Plus, not to toot his own horn, Harry was a celebrity. So many people became a bit weird around him. He was used to nerves. Weird was fine as long as it was controllable.
“I want to see if I like the look of you first,” Harry explained.
Nott nodded with a little “Oh, okay,” which was cuter than it ought to be, and which solidified Harry’s working theory: he was inexperienced with men. Fine. Not ideal but fine. What Harry was craving was a whore, but he could make an allowance for Nott if he was going to continue being this obedient.
There was no attempt to undo each button on Nott’s crisp white, probably very expensive, shirt. He reached for the hem, pulling it up and off in one clean sweep. Standing there topless, Nott neither deliberately flexed nor acted coy. He just waited confidently for Harry to say something, whilst mussing his dark curls that had been arranged perfectly two seconds ago.
That chest looked firm, and his flat stomach was defined, but not like Harry’s. While Harry had to keep his weight regulated to maximise his speed on a broom, Nott’s waist was built of harder, conditioned muscle. More practical. Good for taking punches.
He was a treat. Gorgeous. He must have the girls going crazy for him. Whether Nott was gay or bi was a mystery since he presented so straight. If Harry saw him in a bar, there would be no obvious signs about this man that indicated he’d be up for something like this. Maybe that was his problem, and explained why Nott hadn’t gotten much dick before. Well, if Harry was feeling generous after this was done, he might give the bloke some pointers on how to improve his game.
“Trousers,” Harry said, watching him immediately loosen his belt and pull off those smart trousers that had been hugging a tight arse. Nott folded them up and placed them with his blazer.
God, he hoped this man was a bottom. Everything was pointing that way so far.
“We’re definitely fucking,” Nott said with a grin, holding his arms loosely by his sides.
He made very little effort to conceal the absolute python pulsing for attention under a pair of dark blue boxers. It was obvious why. If Harry were as endowed as that, he wouldn’t have anything to be embarrassed about either.
“Christ’s sake.”
“What?” Nott said warily.
Oh, nothing. Harry just loved the unexpected, and a big dicked bottom was a rare fucking luxury. He had every finger crossed and bit the bullet, saying, “Tell me you bottom.”
Nott’s brows raised in confusion. “Bottom?”
Harry’s face drooped. “Yes. You don’t want to top?”
“Uhh–”
Okay. So Nott had never had cock before. Noted. Problem. Maybe he took a strap? It was unlikely his relationships with women were so unorthodox, unless he’d had a trusted girlfriend in the past, but you never know.
“When you’re with girls, do you do ass stuff?”
Nott’s reaction was as though Harry had grown a second head, and he couldn’t work out which one was talking to him. “Girls. Ha. About that… I’m gay.”
Right. Oh then– Oh fuck.
Harry’s hope died. “You’re a virgin,” he said flatly.
This fucking jock just smiled, slowly, widely, awkwardly. Cutely, unfortunately. Harry liked that.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said regardless and pointed to Nott’s clothes, indicating that he should put them back on.
What a waste. He was nice, and would’ve finished Harry’s winning season off beautifully.
“Wait. No. Please fuck me.”
Oh? What was this?
Nott continued, saying, “I’ve never had sex, that’s true, but I won’t be boring. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I’ll be good as gold. Just touch me. Use me. You won’t regret it, Potter.”
Harry stood, wrapping the towel around himself again, wondering whether Nott would agree to kneeling down and letting Harry wank to the thought of him. Would he let him come over those lips?
“I can’t do whatever I want to do with a virgin. You’d need too much hand-holding, and I don’t have the energy to teach you. I just wanted an easy shag, since you offered, but–”
“I’m still offering that. Don’t teach me. Just fuck me. Just do it.”
Harry laughed. The desperation was nice but evidently years old. “Listen to me. I can’t fuck an unprepared hole. If you don’t play with your ass, the most we can do tonight is wank each other off. Play with yourself a bit and then come back to me in a couple of weeks when you’ve built some tolerance up.”
Nott’s cheeks were blushing gorgeously, like he was holding in a breath. His head shook impatiently, but he didn’t burst in protest until Harry was done speaking. “Potter, I sit on a dildo most nights. Please. I know I can take it.”
He could’ve led with that. It looked like it cost a little something to admit to it. Nott’s playfulness dampened, and his eyes lowered to the floor. No, there was no need to be embarrassed here. That was the hottest thing Harry had heard in months.
He lifted Nott’s chin gently and said, “You’ve been getting ready for me?”
What Harry would give to watch this good boy Auror fuck himself dry. Nott nodded with sleepy eyes that indicated exactly how the night would go. If he wanted to be fucked, there was very little will in Harry to deny him.
“What’s your name? Your first name?” Potter asked as his fingers flirted with the sharp edge of Theo’s jaw.
“Theodore,” he answered, his heart hammering in his chest.
A smile created lines on Potter’s nose. He said, “Pretty,” and, all of a sudden, Theo felt pretty. He felt like himself, which was new whilst in company.
“Seriously, just start. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” Theo whispered urgently, his skin pricking from the heavenly sensation of Potter’s hand touching his face. He hadn’t realised until now how intensely he craved something as simple as this, meaning the rest of tonight would likely blow his mind. “I’ll suck you off, let you tie me up, spread my legs. I’ll do fucking anything, just don’t slap me, okay? I don’t want to have to explain any marks. Anything else, though. You could give me a hickey somewhere discreet. I wouldn’t mind that at all. Whatever you want.”
Potter tipped Theo’s head softly, looking over his features for a stupidly long time until he said, “You talk a lot, don’t you?”
Theo sighed heavily. “I’ve been told it’s annoying. It’s something I’ve got to work on. Generally, it happens when I’m nervous. When I’m comfortable with someone too. So I guess it happens nearly all of the time. I can shut up, if you prefer. You might have to gag me, though.”
“Keep talking, Theodore. I like your voice,” Potter said, clicking a button to turn off the television.
Gods, he really did like his voice then? Because there were some hot men on that black screen and Theo wouldn’t get rid of them for just anything.
He joked, “You’d be the first.”
“You’ve made me be your first. I’m not going to fuck you exactly as I’d like, because you’ll look back on this and question whether sex is all it’s cracked up to be if it’s too rough.”
“You can be rough–” Theo argued.
“Or if I don’t kiss you enough. If it doesn’t feel… special.”
Special? It didn’t need to be special. It could be sloppy, filthy, casual. All of this waiting, this tension, was driving him to the brink of madness. This may be Theo’s first time, but he wouldn’t have cared if Potter had never found out. In fact, he’d have preferred it if he hadn’t. He wanted to have sex without any boundaries, completely naturally. Passionately. Potter didn’t owe him a thing. This was the very first time they’d met in over ten years, since school, and Potter never glanced at him twice back then. He could ignore him now too, if he wanted, as long as he fucked him during. But accepting that kind of treatment would tell too much about Theo’s inner state of being, wouldn’t it?
This didn’t need to be special, but if this hunk of a man wanted to inject some feelings into each thrust, Theo would not stop him.
“No, yeah. Kiss me. A lot, please. That’ll make it special, I promise.”
Under his boxers, Theo’s stiff cock was doing somersaults with excitement. It was screaming ‘finally, finally!’ every time Potter touched him, or even looked at him, with vague intimacy. The poor thing deserved better, and Theo had mistreated it across all of these lonely years. His cock had taken such a battering, while he’d attempted to work out what it liked, that he would be shocked if he managed to come at all.
“What’s this?” was whispered into Theo’s ear while soft strokes were applied to his abdomen.
There was a little scratchiness there, where the trail of dark curls used to be, as hair began to poke through the skin again.
“I’m smooth,” Theo said, not knowing whether that was a good or bad thing. “I thought you might be used to girls, so…”
Girls were hairless, right? After everything Draco had ever said about girls, they had to be. Girls had to meet a certain standard, he’d said, which meant, indirectly, Theo had to as well. If he was going to be legs spread, taking cock, it made sense that the same rule would apply to him. Merlin only knew what Draco would think of him removing every hair from his body below his nose. But fuck it, Draco wasn’t Potter and Potter smiled like he was pleased about it. Like they were sharing secrets.
“You’re hairless for me?”
Theo had to ask, “Is that not right? My only reference is pornography, but I thought, if I want to get fucked, I should look clean, you know? Because my hair is thick, and usually in all the wrong places. I just wanted to be considerate.”
“Mm. No, it’s good. I like a smooth hole,” Potter whispered, coming closer, his nose brushing against Theo’s, his hand pulling him inward.
This was it! Merlin, scratch all that shit about not being able to come. Potter must have a magic touch, or voice, because– Oh, fuck. This was going to be a mess.
Theo knew he was being hesitant when those hot lips touched down on his, but he didn’t know what to do! He’d kissed his pillow enough times, but the pillow had never kissed him back! In this situation, he was the pillow. The inanimate, soft thing that didn’t return any affection. He had to do something! He promised he wouldn’t be boring, and look at him already breaking that promise!
Without a clue in the world, Theo pressed forward. He opened his lips, and Potter groaned! Okay, it was working. He was being fooled into thinking Theo was a sexy Lothario, not a nervous wreck. He tilted his mouth, trying to replicate what he’d studied from watching others do this. It had always looked so seamless, but this was a bit clunky. Potter was perfect, as expected, and he quietly moaned into the kiss like nothing was wrong. Perhaps nothing was wrong. It was a good kiss. Theo just had insecurity swirling around his gut, wanting this to be amazing for Potter because he was making this amazing for Theo.
Theo would’ve been okay just falling straight to his knees and having his throat fucked, if Potter had insisted. That had to be simpler than this, though the toe-curlingly slow nature of this felt—
How had Draco put it?
Otherworldly.
“You have no idea how much I need you,” Potter whispered.
Ha. Was he joking? No? Because Theo did have some idea. Theo knew exactly how that all-consuming, overspill of need felt.
Large hands reached up to Theo’s curls. Between a thumb and forefinger, Potter lightly tugged on one, uncoiling it and watching it bounce back into place.
He said, “These are nice. They’ll be nice to pull when I’m deep in your arse.”
Then the pad of his thumb coasted Theo’s ear. That was all it took. There was no choice in it. He had to keep this man.
And he had to suck his dick. Right now.
Theo urgently untied the towel at Potter’s waist and fell to his knees. He didn’t properly look at the cock he was slipping between his lips before he tasted it. But when he did, his eyes rolled back, and he just did what felt right. With his mouth full, his own cock was overly sensitive and happy but needed more. Theo licked and sucked, hollowing his cheeks. He cupped Potter’s sac and licked there too. He tried to take as much as he could before Potter stopped him, saying, “I’ll come too quick like that, and I want to fuck you. Arch your back a bit more so I can see that ass.”
Kneeling on the ground, his shins flat on the floor, Theo rested back on his calves and curved his spine. His blue eyes glanced upwards to ask, ‘Like this?’ but the expression on Potter’s dark face was gorgeous. His brows were pulled together tightly, glasses slightly askew, his lips parted with pleasure, his eyes fixed on Theo’s firm cheeks.
“Pull your boxers between your cheeks for me. Like a thong,” he ordered. Theo complied and felt a hand on the back of his neck. It helped him bob his head and set the speed. “Fuck. You look so good.”
It was crazy how wrong the social conditioning Theo had received growing up was. He was taught to like girls and marry one, but nobody said anything about pleasure. Nobody taught him what arousal felt like, or what might cause it. Because girls were the default. They had to be sexy, and therefore Theo had to want to fuck one, right?
Fat fucking wrong.
Being on his knees with a motherfucking Quidditch player fucking his mouth was pure, sordid bliss. Listening to that deep, masculine groan, taking those instructions, being just a propped-up doll, was what Theo liked. He didn’t want to fuck girls; he wanted to be one. Well, not quite. He just wanted to fit into the gender-typical role they fulfilled in sex. He wanted to be bent over and eaten out and fucked mercilessly. He wanted to be told he was pretty, and have his hair pulled.
Theo wanted to stroke his man’s cock while he kissed him languidly. He wanted a strong pair of arms around him during a cuddle. Gods, he wanted this life. This secret couldn’t always be a secret. It had to come out; else how would he ever truly live?
Strangely, Theo thought he’d arrive here tonight and feel shame, like this was a forbidden thing. A fetish, almost, but not one part of it made him feel dirty. And it was because Potter kept saying such lovely things to him:
“I’ll come if you keep looking at me with those eyes,” he said, as Theo ran his tongue over that cock.
“I knew I should’ve been visiting Hermione at work more often. We could’ve been doing this sooner. I wonder why she never mentioned you.”
and
“God, that mouth feels good.”
Each one was reassurance that this was so normal, it made Theo strange to think otherwise. For Potter, who must have had as many men as he wanted before now, this was just another Monday. And while this was unequivocally the best night of Theo’s adult life, he was glad that this was just another Monday.
Maybe, from now on, there could be a lot more Mondays like this. So then, this one would become just as routine as the rest.
Dizzy from the certainty that sucking cock was Theo’s favourite thing in the fucking world, he was lost in his head. Mild, erotic stings from his curls being clutched between Potter’s knuckles were a new sensation; second best to the wet slide of his tongue along Harry’s thick shaft.
With a loud grunt, Potter gripped his head - one hand on the top and another under his chin - and gently pushed him away. Theo’s mouth popped off him, and he immediately felt disappointed.
“Did I do it wrong?”
Potter laughed. “No, I was about to come. Kneel on the sofa, over the armrest. Take off your boxers first.”
Theo was no stranger to getting nude in front of other men. In his youth, when he played Quidditch himself, this was just an everyday thing. Then, he started to notice the other boys’ bodies. He began to get hard, and then bullied. Theo stopped changing in front of others completely, even going so far as to stop playing Quidditch. So this was quite an ask. It brought back some of that insecurity.
“Can’t I keep them on for a minute?” He said, his nerves growing. Obviously he knew that, to be fucked, he needed to take them off eventually, but Theo didn’t know this man. And while he’d lowered his standards of mental self-care just to have this experience, Theo sort of wished his first time had been with a boyfriend. Someone who cared. Unfortunately, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And Potter was the greatest catch Theo could ever hope to reel in. This opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime, and it would not be spoiled by Theo’s wish to be nurtured just a little.
“We don’t have to do anything, you know? I could just wank you off.” Harry shrugged. “I was going to eat the hole you want me to fill but–”
That changed everything. To nobody’s surprise, it is impossible to lick one’s own arsehole. But Theo had tried - he’d gotten quite flexible because of it - but no dice.
He practically threw himself onto the sofa, lifting his legs to pull down and kick off his boxers. Then he turned onto his hands and knees and leaned up against the armrest on his elbows. “Like this, Potter?”
Harry’s voice was soft but strained when he spoke, slowly approaching. “Ye– Yeah, like that. I’m sorry. Just sit up a sec?”
He did as bid, and Potter circled around the sofa to look at him head-on, running his eyes everywhere. Nobody had ever studied his body like this, like they wanted it the same way he wanted theirs. The mutuality of this was as heady as it was nerve-wracking. What if he didn’t like the look of him? What if he did?
Potter vanished his doubts in a flash, saying, “Your body is… I’m struggling for words good enough. You’ve never–? Really? I won’t believe nobody wanted you.”
Just put a fucking ring on his finger already! For MERLIN’s sake!
“Come here,” Theo whispered, growing too fucking attached too quickly. Was every man like this or just Potter? How rare was he? Theo needed to know now, in case he did something stupid and fucked up a good thing. “Please come here.”
“We should get to know each other after this,” he said, as Theo leaned down again, arching his back.
Was he serious? Was Potter just hopeless and lonely too, or something? Theo didn’t have any expectations for what happened after tonight. None whatsoever. He was lucky enough to be getting this much.
“Fuck. You’ve known me for two seconds. You like me that much already?” Theo laughed.
Potter scratched the back of his neck, his eyes hungry. “Yeah, sort of. I travel a lot though. So reject me now if that’ll be a problem.”
It sounded glamorous, actually. Hopping about the globe to support his Quidditch star boyfriend? To groupie about and cheer his name both in the stands and under the sheets? Yes, please!
“Isn’t that what portkeys were created for? Chasing love around the world?”
“Oh, you’re in love with me now?” Potter said as he climbed onto the sofa behind him. Theo looked at him over his shoulder, and received one firm slap to his arse whilst Harry bit his bottom lip.
“Now I am.”
What the fuck was he supposed to do with this gooey-eyed virgin except steal him? Horde him away before the rest of the gays found him? How the fuck was this soppy-tongued Auror still single, let alone sexless? If he even moderately dropped the straight act for two seconds, he’d have been swept up, chewed up and spat out by every gay man in London.
Harry didn’t want to go so far as to thank internalised homophobia for ensuring he became Theodore’s first tonight, but he was close.
He felt unreal, and the small part of Harry that was a tad entitled regretted almost pushing him out of the door. That hint of arrogance he possessed felt greedy to be the first cock Theo would ever have. With that hunger, Harry ran his tongue from the tip of Theo’s long, pulsing cock up and past his sac, to his quivering, tight hole.
“Sweet fucking Circe,” Theo cursed when Harry spat down on his opening and spread his saliva over it with two fingers. “Gods, give me more. Potter, I want more. Give me more. Now.”
Oh, he could get stroppy, huh?
“You were so polite earlier. What happened to that?”
Theo’s toes curled beside Harry’s thighs, and a whiny, petulant noise escaped his lips. Yeah, okay, virgins were far more fun than the experienced, but were just as whoreish. What a treat.
“Stop teasing me. Fuck me. I can’t express to you enough how much I need to be fucked, Potter. I’ll be polite when you are balls deep in my ass, okay? My dildos are only so good. I want to be fucking pounded. I want to reach the pinnacle of human existence, please. Can you do that?”
He spread Theo’s cheeks and ran the pad of his thumb over that needy, smooth hole that tensed and relaxed with as much spirit as Theo’s begging did. If it was up to Harry, this little slut wouldn’t be leaving his fucking sight after they were done. He would be staying here, playing housewife, waiting for Harry to come home and fuck him over the kitchen counters.
“Can I do that?” Harry mocked. “I can fuck you so hard we’ll reset time, Theodore. You’ll jump back to the moment you landed in my house, catching me thinking about burying myself in some grateful slut, and we’ll do this again and again. But only if you’re good, do you hear me?”
Theo pressed his cheek to the sofa’s armrest, his face blushing as he peered back at him. “I can be so good. I’m waiting, aren’t I?”
“Impatiently. I’m not going to rush to the end if it means you’ll leave,” Harry said.
“What if I promise… not to leave? Will you hurry up and fuck me?”
Harry didn’t answer. He just smiled, because he loved the mouth on this man, and kissed him everywhere he could. He had promised Theo a lot of kisses, and he made good on that promise, sliding his tongue where it was needed. Lubing Theo up could be done so easily with a quick charm, but the manual method was Harry’s favourite.
He periodically shifted down to appreciate Theo’s cock, getting it wet enough for him to fuck himself in his hand whilst Harry thrust from behind. Taking care like this was just as important as a bit of banter during sex. It was what made it feel memorable after the fact. The thought of this would keep him going during the loneliest days of next season.
Between those firm cheeks, Harry’s mind drifted off, his tongue working of its own wants and desires, his teeth scraping soft skin. He was just listening to Theo’s groans, his passionate cursing, and feeling his body slowly begin to demand more.
As much as he was trying, Theo couldn’t keep quiet for long, and his voice was the sexiest, most juvenile whine when he did. “Potter–” he cried.
Harry lifted his head and slapped one arse cheek as he corrected him. “Harry.”
“Harry?”
“Yes, Theodore.”
“Theo. Theodore is my father’s name.”
“Theo, then.”
“Please, can you fuck me now, Harry?”
“You want the bed upstairs for this?”
“Move me at your peril,” Theo threatened.
“But I want to fuck you over the armchair and mess up your clothes.”
Theo eyed the armchair, which stood only a foot away, and laughed as he spotted his blazer, tie, and shirt.
Harry went on. “Are you a dork all the time or just when it comes to sex?”
“I didn’t want to be messy!”
“Fuck that, you’re going to be messy. You’re going to come all the way down the back of the chair after I fuck it out of you. Okay?” Harry said, kissing between Theo’s shoulder blades. “Can you stand to move that far, or will you hex me?”
Theo rose, his back pressing snugly against Harry’s warm chest, and he gasped when Harry’s cock slid between his cheeks. It felt so good just to be pressed up against an eager man again that Harry circled his arms around Theo’s slender waist. He indulged himself in running his fingers over every ridge of his abdomen. Theo turned his head to one side, closing his eyes, and Harry couldn’t help kissing him slowly, their lips making delicious, wet smacks.
In that kiss, something changed. It wasn’t a standard hookup anymore. The slight hesitation with which Theo acted was explained by his lack of familiarity with what to do. But Harry cherished it because it felt imbued with feeling. This wasn’t an emotionless fuck for Theo, and therefore it wasn’t for Harry either. And, as much as Theo had to be guessing what a typical shag was like, Harry knew this wasn’t one. It was far better. How could he have sex with this man and watch him leave when, for ten minutes, it had felt like this could last forever?
Then, Theo whispered, “Was your first time like this?”
Harry thought about it, kissing him throughout. “With a woman, yes. It was nice. I was eighteen, and we were good friends. With a man?” Potter tsked. “It was just sex. I was older and I thought I knew what I was doing. It was just a hookup. Just a stranger. It wasn’t good.”
“Oh,” Theo whispered. “Oh, but I’m just a–”
“No, you’re Theo. You used to be called a Beansprout because you had a growth spurt before anyone else in our year. You got bullied a lot, spent a lot of time by yourself in the Library,” Harry recollected, piecing together the flashes of this man, in much younger days, from his memory.
Emotion pricked Theo’s eyes and he kissed him harder to disguise it. Poorly. Harry noticed, and pulled back to cup his face, saying, “I might have forgotten your name, but I didn’t forget you.”
“Do you know why I was by myself all of the time?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I was lucky; I like girls, so I could hide behind it.”
He would’ve talked about this all night if Theo had wanted, if it meant that Harry wouldn’t be left here alone with only his own thoughts again.
But Theo was funny, quick-witted, and knew what he wanted, so funny Theo said, “Could you not…?” Harry laughed. “Just for a little bit?”
He grunted and thrust forward against Theo’s arse. “Done. Last chance to be romanced,” Harry warned as his chatty jock jumped up from the sofa.
Theo, cock swinging and begging to be devoured, approached the armchair, resting his elbows along the top. With a seductive eye, he said, “I’m long past romanced. Come and fuck me.”
This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Harry would soon wake up, his head pounding from drinking one too many beers, with his cock in his hand. No Theo. No fluttery feeling in his chest. Just the dark and the loneliness again.
To try and prove to himself that he was dreaming, Harry pinched two pieces of chocolate from the coffee table. He bit down on one and slotted the other between Theo’s lips, who took it with a smile. When the milky smoothness of that chocolate hit his tongue, Harry considered himself the luckiest idiot that ever existed.
But it was Theo whose timing was impeccable.
“Talk to me,” Harry said against chocolatey lips, placing his hands on a slim pair of hips. “Keep talking to me. Don’t fucking stop.”
“I’m great at taking orders, you know? It doesn’t look like I would be, does it? I mean, I don’t always do as I’m told. I somewhat (just a little bit) blackmailed my boss– Uhh, Hermione to you– into setting me up with someone. I did that! Just so that you know what you’re getting into here. I’m not sunshine and light, okay? And I can be very jealous.”
Harry was staring down at Theo’s sculpted back, and thinking about running his tongue through that soft, freckled crevice. Then, he fully comprehended what Theo had said. He gripped his chin and pulled his lips closer. Against them, Harry whispered, “You didn’t ask for me? You just asked her for anyone?”
That dampened this, somehow. Theo didn’t owe him anything, obviously. He had quite literally just floo’d here, out of the blue, no existing relationship to question. But Harry wanted him to want him, and not just any old cock that fit the bill.
“I was over the moon when she said your name. Everyone knows who you are. I knew I was attracted to you. I knew this would be a risk worth taking. Don’t get offended. I’m the sad one. I’m nearly thirty and, before tonight, I hadn’t even been kissed.”
What? Harry was still reeling from the shock of learning that Theo would’ve turned up for anyone, as long as Hermione had given him their floo address. Now, he wasn’t just a virgin but an unkissed, barely touched, completely unused virgin.
Theo must have noticed the surprise in Harry’s eyes because he turned, accidentally sliding his cock alongside Harry’s, to look into them. He faced him directly and softly pulled off Harry’s glasses as he said, “I used to have a cut out of a Prophet picture from your Junior League days. Straight out of school. It was so slutty. You had just lost a game, and the Paparazzi were all in your face, and you stormed up to the camera, hot as fucking hell, and pushed it away. They printed that! I loved it so much. Then I moved to be closer to work and lost it. I was heartbroken.”
Harry sighed, trying and failing to fight off a growing smile. He didn’t reply, and gripped both cocks in his hand, giving them a long, slow squeeze. Theo’s breathy sighs and heavy eyes were enough to convince Harry that this wasn’t just a quick shag; the one thing he said he wanted, and the last thing he thought he needed. Harry didn’t need sex, necessarily. He needed what came before, after and during it. He needed consistency, and someone to look forward to.
And whilst Theodore was funny, full of stories, and distractingly gorgeous, perhaps he wasn’t experienced enough in love to know how to make a relationship work.
“Please, Harry,” Theo said, his gaze serious.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t think I haven’t been close before? Not as close as this, of course, but close enough to know what it might feel like? For someone to choose me, I mean. I have. I’ve had crushes, and once - just once - I thought someone else liked me back. Maybe he did; I don’t know. But he looked at me as you’re looking at me now, and he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t out, so whatever, but you are. The common denominator is me.”
Fuck.
“I’m going back and forth on whether this is a good idea for you. If I were to be as selfish as I’d like to be, we’d already be finished.”
“So finish us. Be selfish,” Theo whispered, kissing him first this time.
“Promise me you’re not doing this just to have sex, and I will.”
A warm laugh broke out of him. Harry thought it was fucking gorgeous.
“You’re a bit intense, Potter. How about you ask me on a date, and I’ll say yes, and you can stop wondering if you’re ever going to see me again?”
He wasn’t intense! It was just rare to feel such an instant connection, both emotionally as well as physically. It was rare to find a man that Harry felt romantic with, always defaulting to women just because they tended, in his experience, to be softer. More nurturing. Theo wasn’t like any of the men Harry had ever taken home. He was willing to be vulnerable, scared but attempting to be open. Ballsy as fuck, which Harry loved.
He was simply perfect.
And he fell, quite literally, out of the sky.
Harry nodded, cleared his throat, and pressed a kiss to Theo’s sternum. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“I’ll clear lunch for you, babe.”
“Shift any plans you had for dinner too. I’m only at home for three weeks before I’m off again to train for next season.”
Theo shrugged, the cogs whirring in his head. “Then I’ll clear my calendar. Completely. For three weeks.”
Harry’s chest could burst. He knew it was rising and falling with gusto, excitement hurtling through his veins. It pulsed down to his hand, and he jerked them both off together, watching Theo’s eyes soften as pleasure shot through him.
“You’ll come and stay here with me for three weeks,” Harry amended, staring into inquisitive blue eyes. “Do that, and I’ll know you’re serious and you’ll know I’m serious. I like you.”
For God’s sake, why couldn’t he ever be cool? Harry did this. Whenever he got an idea in his head, it had to happen, and now he’d gone and demanded a boyfriend. The poor man had just landed here fifteen minutes ago, and now Harry was making him sign up to nearly a month of guaranteed sex. It had to be blowing his innocent mind.
Theo rushed out a breath and spun in Harry’s arms, bending over the armchair. His dark brown curls flirted with the blush at the base of his neck. It was impossible not to run his fingers through them.
“Fuck me, Potter. You’ve really got to fuck me now, so that we can start doing all the rest of it,” he begged, not shutting up, saying some variation of the same thing until Harry tapped the head of his cock on Theo’s left cheek.
He could listen to him ask for it forever.
But that wouldn’t be fair.
Well, this was going far better than planned! What was even happening? How could getting a boyfriend have been a task so arduous and stressful, and have taken a decade, just for it to be so easy now? And so right. Potter wasn’t just anybody who’d been good enough to give Theo a chance. He was everything; smart, brave, competent, ahem wealthy ahem, and the sexiest guy living.
And he was just going to be like, ‘stay forever’? Yes fucking please and thank you. Case closed.
How had Theo’s luck improved so drastically in mere minutes?
“That dildo you sit on most nights?” Harry whispered into his ear, his bassy notes stimulating the hairs on Theo’s neck.
“What about it?”
“How big are we talking?”
Theo grinned. “Bigger than you.”
There was hardly an inch in it, but technically he hadn’t lied.
“Good.”
Without warning, the cold but familiar feeling of the lubrication charm caused Theo’s thighs to tense and his cock to jump.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said under his breath, waiting for it.
Potter gripped his neck from behind with one hand, holding him firm as he pushed against Theo’s hole. He held his breath, his head turned to watch Harry’s face twist with pleasure. Theo blew out that breath as his channel stretched to accommodate his first real cock. Just the thought of what was finally happening was arousing him to such a degree that he was leaking pre-come against the fabric of the armchair. But then the fullness hit him, as Harry bottomed out inside of him, and Theo’s eyes closed.
Harry hugged him from behind, kissing his neck, sending tingles down his spine. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.
Theo’s eyes opened wide, his voice high and light as he said, “What?”
“I fucking love that you’re a virgin.” Harry brought back his hips and thrust slowly once, silencing Theo completely. His cock bobbed like a jackhammer against his stomach when he did it again and then again, picking up speed every time. “Knowing I’m the only man you’ve ever had means you’re going to remember me for a long time to come, whether you want me for all of that time or not.”
“I– I’ll remember this always,” Theo swore, hooking his arm behind him across Harry’s shoulder, his hand settling on the man’s neck.
“I need more, Theo. Keep talking,” Potter ordered, a second before spitting down on Theo’s hole for no other reason than because it was hot as hell.
“I’m worried I’m going to wake up in my bed and this won’t have been real.”
“You’re going to wake up in my bed, don’t worry,” Harry whispered, his tongue looping under Theo’s earlobe and sucking hard.
That shift inside him, the drag of a cock under his skin, was moreish. He needed it harder and faster, loving the heat of having a man holding onto him while he turned Theo into a mess. Potter leaned across him to kiss him, like he couldn’t bear for there to be distance between them at all.
Then he lifted Theo’s thigh, pushing up his knee to rest on the top of the armchair. It was a stretch, but it opened him up in a way that would be scandalous if Harry didn’t love the view.
He ran his hand from Theo’s hip over his thigh and knee to his shin, and then his foot. Harry held onto Theo’s foot tightly, as though using it as an anchor, supporting him to thrust harder. It was one of those things that Theo couldn’t know to ask for, but now that it had, he adored it.
“Yeah. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,” Theo whined, never having been as flooded with pleasure as this. He couldn’t think straight. Now, under Harry’s hands, he was more impulse than logic, and impulse demanded one thing in particular. “I want everything you’ve got. Fill me up. I want to be leaking your come down my legs.”
Breathy, groaning, Harry said, “Don’t– Don’t stop talking. Touch your cock for me.”
Theo gripped himself between his thighs and bit down on his bottom lip while tugging on himself. And he had a strange thought, one that made his chest seize as pleasure lit up his senses.
“Imagine if someone walked in here on us right now,” Theo began. Harry’s short pants of breath became even shorter as he thrust harder, grunting louder. Fuck, there was something hotter than the act itself about a man making so much fucking noise. He was loving this. He loved Theo’s body, and Theo could love him for it. “Imagine if we got caught fucking like animals. You’re so deep in my ass that you can’t be pulled out. What would you do?”
Harry lifted Theo’s chin, his hand pressing down on his lower back, and whispered into his ear, “I wouldn’t stop. You think it feels like this every time? I’m not stopping for anybody, except you. This ass is mine. Tell me, Theo.”
Harry wouldn’t hide him, because there was nothing wrong here. It felt liberating. Harry was freeing him more with every kiss, every promise. Merlin, he could weep if his whole body didn’t feel like it was reaching a higher level of human sensation with every hit of his prostate.
His curls were tugged on then, as promised, and Theo groaned like a whore if rent was due. The sound of his arse being slapped, and the wet smacks of their sacs slapping together too, added to this sordid illusion that he was one. A whore. Harry’s whore. After a lifetime being the prude, the shy one when sex was discussed, after having to learn how to talk (lie) about sex with women, Theo finally felt sexy. He understood, because, whether directly or not, Harry had taught him how to be.
“That ass is yours. My holes are yours, Harry,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back with ecstasy. “Keep fucking me. I’m yours to play with, now and after, I promise. Just don’t stop yet.”
Harry grunted harshly, saying, “I’m getting my hands on that cock after this. Keep touching yourself. I want to see how much you can come.”
Theo grinned, having far more fun than pornography implied could be had. “You can suck me off after if you want. No need to beg.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since your trousers came off. Shower?”
Theo hummed, nodding, his curls pulled on a little tighter. His body was being manipulated to Harry’s wishes, angled to give him the best appearance, his spine curved and his head tilted back. The hand in his hair shifted to Theo’s lips, and two fingers slotted between them. Hungrily, Theo licked and sucked at them, tasting a hint of chocolate on them. Gods, he wanted to be fed by this man. Chocolate, cock, come. All of it.
He could hear himself growing louder, more wanton as his sac tightened and his abdomen hardened. His cock was so sensitive, he knew he would come soon.
“You’re going to make me come,” Harry whispered, his voice strained.
Theo pressed back, taking another inch to Harry’s surprise and pulling an urgent moan out of him. Potter then pulled at Theo’s chest, insistent that he should stand up. When he did, Harry hugged him tight from behind, his hips thrusting erratically, and planted open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck.
Warm fluid filled him up, and Harry pulled out. Theo wanked his cock frantically at the feeling of it pushing out of his used hole.
“Oh, that’s what you wanted, huh?” Potter said, his teeth gritted as pleasure still shot through him. He hurriedly pushed Theo back over the armchair, his clothes falling to the floor, and scooped up the come running from his hole, pushing it back inside on two fingers.
“Merlin. Fuck!” Theo gasped, given no chance to find anything more meaningful to say as his hole was finger-fucked to finish.
“You like that? You like being full of come?”
“I fucking love it. You were worth the wait.”
Harry leaned across his back to reach his ear. “Say that again.”
Theo grunted, loving being used. “I love being full of your come.”
“I have a lot more to give you. Go on then, make a mess of yourself for me. Show me how much you love being fucked.”
“Lovebeingfuckedfuckinglovebeingfuckedbyyou”, Theo whimpered, his eyes firmly closed, come plugged up his arse, two fingers too, and so close to squirting like a broken fire hydrant.
He was quiet when he came, his head lolling dizzily as Harry continued to fuck him until he was dry. Until the back of the armchair was stained and the floor was covered in a puddle of their combined releases. His blazer on the ground was spattered with come and ruined, and Harry slapped his cheek as he said, “I’m sorry, but I really needed to dirty up your clothes after you laid them down so preciously.”
There was something so rebellious about that, an everyday sort, that Theo liked. He knew Potter would be fun moving forward, like he’d tease him just to get a reaction. Theo craved that kind of love, one that never became boring.
He laughed, still bent over the chair, weak-limbed but thoroughly, unquestionably, fucked. “I’ll just borrow your clothes then.”
Potter swept him up, spinning him, and held his face to kiss him deeply after that, as though he wanted that too. After cleaning each other up - between their tongues and a quick Scourgify - Theo said, “So you’re not mad I didn’t owl you first?”
Harry looked into his eyes and shook his head. “It’s just my luck that the man for me would fuck off unspoken rules like that. You turned up exactly when I needed you.”
It was just Theo’s luck that the man for him would like to break the rules.
“Will you help me come out to my friends? I want to stop fucking pretending,” Theo whispered into the softest kiss of the evening.
Harry glanced down at his lips, smiling and nodding. “Whenever you’re ready. Whatever you want. But for tonight? Shower? Dinner? Rugby?”
He bit his bottom lip and stole up Potter’s towel that had been discarded on the floor. Quickly, he spun it into a tight band and flicked it at Harry’s thighs.
“Oi!”
“Whoops? I thought Seekers were supposed to be quicker than that!” Theo called, running soft and nude through the house in the vague direction of where he guessed a shower might be.
Harry lagged behind, looking for something among Theo’s suit trousers. He grunted in frustration when he finally chased him up the stairs, saying, “What good Auror doesn’t bring handcuffs with them wherever they go?”
Out of thin air, Theo conjured a pair, dangling them tauntingly between his index finger and thumb. Harry’s eyes latched onto them and turned determined as he backed Theo into a bathroom.
“Give me those,” he demanded, then softened. “Give me them, and I’ll give you the blowjob of your life.”
Well, fucking hell! It was about fucking time!
Theo passed them over, saying, “You’d better get used to dispensing those. I expect the blowjob of my life every time.”
Harry grinned, cuffed him and pushed him into the shower. “I thought virgins were supposed to be shy, not demanding.”
The biggest smirk he’d ever worn pinched up his cheeks proudly. “Yeah, well… I’m not a virgin anymore.”
He would be telling everyone… that he was finally off the market.