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hpkinkfestTitle: An Education
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nixied
Prompt Number: #35 submitted bynursedarry
Kink Showcased: Dirty Talk, clinical
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter
Summary: Harry’s never had “The Talk”, and after a careful process of elimination he’s left with Charlie… things don’t exactly go as planned.
Content Notes/Warnings: First time sex, embarrassment, multiple orgasms, rutting, prostate play, fingering, anal sex, bit of orgasm denial, medical terms, bad humour, my overly flowery way of writing.
Word Count: ~6600ish
Author's Notes: If I had to have a forte in writing, dialogue would definitely not be it, but I’ve given it the old college try. I’ve been deliberately ambiguous about Harry’s age, so he can be as old as you like. I hope it ticks at least some of your boxes. Also with regards to the muscles, it’s not exhaustive, but I figured Charlie might know a few having been a seeker and a dragon keeper. Edited since my mate gave it a thorough going over, all errors remaining are mine.
Things hadn’t gone exactly as Harry had expected when he’d come up with this plan. He thought it’d all result in one very awkward conversation and him seventeen shades of red. Instead he ended up wrung out and sticky with his own fluid, contemplating exactly what had just happened. Although he was pleased that he was at least right about the red thing.
***
Growing up with the family he had, Harry hadn’t had much of an education in the things all young men and women should know, and he’s heard enough gossip to know that he really needed to fill in the blanks. First he ruled out the library, there was no way he was going to ask Madam Pince for where those books were, or risk Malfoy spotting him with a dummies guide. And he certainly couldn’t ask Hermione; that would be far too awkward. Ron, Seamus and Dean were already the source of the bizarre gossip he had hear, so he wasn’t going to get much more out of them, and Neville had seemed as shocked as he had at some of the stuff Ron had shared. So his dorm mates were out. After learning that Fred and George were Ron’s source, he quickly scratched them off the list and made a note not to trust anything else Ron came up with about the subject. That left Percy, Charlie and Bill.
He couldn’t imagine talking to Percy about this, never mind that he wasn’t Percy’s favourite person right now to say the least, but if on the off chance he didn’t tell him to bugger off, he’d almost certainly find some convoluted way to tell Mr Weasley. Which meant Mrs Weasley would find out (married couples told each other everything right?), and then it just didn’t bare thinking about.
Bill was quickly written off once he realised he couldn’t even think about just having a casual chat with him about quidditch without blushing, let alone talk to him about this. So that left Charlie. He seemed friendly enough and was old enough to probably know plenty about it. Now he just had to work out how to ask him, Romania was a bit far way, and Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t see himself writing it down and sending it by owl. Just imagine if the deatheaters intercepted it! Well bugger.
That was the end of that the. At least it was until the summer. He’d arrived at the burrow after four hellish weeks with the Dursley’s, too tired to even worry about his problem, when his answer appeared in front of him. He’d wandered downstairs on his first morning, Ron still muttering about another five minutes, to find Charlie Wasley sat at the kitchen table munching on some toast.
Evidentially noticing the wide pair of eyes fixed on him, Charlie dropped his toast and turned with a smile. “Hello Harry.” Which was when Mrs Weasley spotted him, making Harry jump at her sudden greeting, completely unaware of her.
“Harry, good morning. Sit down, sit down.” Leaving nothing to chance, she bustled over and pushed him into the seat opposite Charlie. “You must be hungry dear.” A plate of fresh toast appeared in front of him, butter and jam already on the table. “Eat up.” Mrs Weasley popping a glass of juice next to it before turning back to the stove, the smell of bacon in the air as she busied herself with cooking.
Charlie nudged the butter over with a grin and Harry began to consider the next big issue he’d brushed over before… how was he going to get Charlie alone?
***
Six long days of trying desperately to find Charlie alone, and being thwarted at every turn, the opportunity finally arose. Mrs Weasley had taken one look at the new school list and declared a trip to Diagon Alley.
After a bit of careful planning and a quick owl to the twins, Harry plodded downstairs the morning of the trip having quickly swallowed the twin’s latest invention and muttered, “I don’t feel very good,” and promptly disappeared out the kitchen door to retch.
What followed nearly put everything he’d planned out the window; he hadn’t quite anticipated Mrs Weasley’s doting and announcement that they’d “simply have to cancel the trip until Harry was feeling better”. Despite his own assurances that he’d been fine alone at the burrow, even Ron had been coming up with things they could to till he felt better. Everything was going arse over tit as Dean would say, until Charlie piped up.
“I’ll look after him, mum.”
A hand over his forehead had Mrs Weasley tutting. “I don’t know dear.” She continued to eye him as if he was going to expire if she let him out of his sight.
“Can’t be any harder than taking care of a Hungarian Horntail, right Harry?” Charlie raised his glass to him and Harry offered a weak smile in return.
“Well Molly, probably be best to get as much as this dealt with soon as.” Mr Weasley’s words seemed to draw an agreement from Mrs Weasley and with that chaos descended.
A fair amount of fanfare later and more clucking from Mrs Weasley ensuring Charlie knew where every potion and spell book he might need was, the family gathered around the floo and were off. Leaving Harry tucked up on the sofa, bundled in a Weasley original patched quilt, pretending to sip a glass of potion spiked pumpkin juice, and alone with Charlie. And cursing the longevity of the twins’ trick and beginning to feel just a tiny bit sleepy, not much really, hardly tired at all, perfectly… awake…
***
Waking with a snap, Harry fumbled for his glasses, feeling his way along the little table near his head, nearly knocking over his still untouched pumpkin juice. Feeling a little disorientated, but with the Weasley treat firmly out of his system. Making a note to have a word with Fred and George when he next saw them about the sleeping thing, not exactly being part of what he’d asked for, he popped his glasses on and considered what to do next. First he had to find Charlie, then work out some way to broach the subject… actually first he had to untangle himself from this quilt.
Finding Charlie proved to be infinitely easier than escaping the quilt.
***
Ten minutes later he was stood outside Charlie’s room, watching him read a magazine on Dragon Feed, trying to come up with some way to get the ball rolling. In the end he went with the tried and the true, act first, think later.
“You’ve had sex.” Well it definitely worked to get Charlie’s attention, his feet smacked square on the floor, the magazine falling into his lap as he goggled at Harry.
“What?” Charlie spluttered.
“You’ve had sex. Right?” Oh god, what if he was wrong?
“That’s a bit personal Harry.” Charlie pushed a hand through his closely cut hair, eyes rolling to the side, whilst Harry kept his firmly on Charlie’s face. “But, yeah, I have.”
“Good.” Harry declared, nodding to himself. “I haven’t.”
Charlie seemed to be staring everywhere but at him. “I want you to teach me.” Well that got him to look at him.
“Oo-kay.” What on earth could he be doing wrong to get Charlie to be staring at him like that? Oh god, maybe wizards didn’t talk about this sort of thing? Maybe there was some wizard ritual to it all. Shit. Maybe he could suggest Hermione wrote a manual… you know, when he wasn’t dying of embarrassment.
“I – I mean.” Harry glanced away, slumping against the doorframe. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just.”
“Harry.” Damnit, here comes that damnable blush.
“I made a list,” Not making it better, “and you seemed, the best. Choice, I mean-” Ack! “I’ll go.”
There it was, Harry Potter, the boy damned to virginity because he couldn’t even talk about the whole thing. Maybe he could try obliviate. Professor Lockhart seemed to be doing alright after it.
Before he could clear the doorway though, Charlie was up and with a hand on each shoulder, pulling him into the room and pushing him down onto the bed.
“Harry, stop.” Giving a shoulder a squeeze, he ran the other hand across his face. “Let’s just clear a couple of things up.”
“It’s fine. I’m just.” His brain scrambled for an idea. “Delirious. Probably just delirious. I’ll be fine after some more pumpkin juice.”
“I think whatever the twins gave you has worn off by now.”
Well that was unexpected. “How?”
“I spotted the owl this morning. Their packaging isn’t very discreet.” The bed dipped as Charlie settled beside him.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I figured you just wanted some space. So I won’t tell.
“Now, are you sure you want me,” A wide hand squeezed his knee, “to teach you?”
“Yes.” His head bobbed rapidly.
“I bet there are plenty of guys your own age you could go to about this.”
“I already did.” Charlie’s hand slid a little higher to his thigh. “Ron seems to have gotten most of his knowledge off Fred and George.” Charlie’s expression seemed to agree with his assessment that the twin’s weren’t to be trusted. “And the other guys seem to come up with things just as wild.”
“So me?”
“So you.”
Charlie’s breath whistled through his teeth. “Okay.” Harry felt pinned by the scrutinising gaze. “Teach you. I can work with that.” Yes finally! “Everything starts with a kiss. Best start with closed mouth.”
And then there were warm dry lips on his, a hand cupping his cheek to guide him. That wasn’t what he’d planned. The pressure eased. “Or open mouthed.” The lips were back and Charlie was licking a stripe along his bottom lip. “Open your mouth Harry.” So he did and oh my god. Brain fried.
Charlie drew away far too early for Harry’s liking, his brain happily sent off packing on holiday while Charlie kissed him. “Everyone knows of French kissing, just add tongue.” That wicked grin was back, quickly hidden and Charlie pressed closer, his tongue slipping between his lips. Dancing with a wet thrust alongside his. A steady touch making his head spin, before softening to a gentle tickle that relented when he pushed his tongue against Charlie’s.
“Come here.” One hand kept his head close and their lips locked, the other Charlie used to tug Harry upwards so he kneeled with hunched shoulders. Fingers then sliding from waist to thigh, dragging it to swing over both of his own, leaving Harry straddling Charlie’s lap. The shift made it easier for his to bunch his hands in the shoulders of Charlie’s top, Charlie’s own fingers beginning to sneak under the hem of his.
Breaking the kiss with a wet smack, Charlie tightened his fingers in Harry’s hair, preventing him from re-joining them. “I want to take your top off Harry. Can I do that?”
Not seeing any issue, his hands tangled with Charlie’s at his waist. Four hands dragging the t-shirt upwards, his own breaking away as Charlie dragged it over his chest, head and away. Barely paying it any mind, Charlie let it fall into a bundle on the floor, eyes taking in Harry’s bared torso. “Lovely.”
He felt himself flush at Charlie’s gaze, suddenly beginning to regret the disrobement.
“You’ve no reason to be shy Harry.” Charlie’s thumbs stroked along his slides. “You are lovely.” Harry’s own hands fumbled to straighten his glasses, fighting the urge to cover himself. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Despite his own misgivings, Harry didn’t move away, a part of his brain reminding him of the fun just moments before.
The kiss felt chaste. Charlie’s lips brushing faintly against his, a hand returning to cup his cheek. The pressure only increasing when Harry pushed into it, a rush running through him. But short lived as Charlie pulled away. “Part your lips.” Then the faint touch was back, but as Harry relaxed and let his mouth open, the return of that mind zapping tongue occurred.
The gentle play continued, the pressure softening with each curl of tongue. He couldn’t quite understand what Charlie wanted. Each time he pressed into Charlie’s kiss, he softened the touch, tongue drawing away. Frustration crept through him until finally he clamped his lips down on Charlie’s tongue.
Realisation hit him with Charlie’s grunt and he froze. Mind tripping over itself to try to work out why the hell he’d done something like that. His lips parting as quickly as they’d closed. Harry stared with wide eyes at Charlie’s hooded ones, terrified of what might come next. But instead of drawing away and tossing him out on his arse, Charlie tilted his head and crushed their lips together.
Their teeth clicked, Harry’s glasses pressing painful into their skin. It was entirely artless. His lips felt overly wet and it was like they couldn’t quite fit back together. Frustrated, Charlie pulled back and lingered his fingertips over the frames of Harry’s glasses. “Trust me?” He sounded raspy and deep.
“Sure.” An echo under the panting of his own breath.
Charlie took great care with the glasses. “They’ll be on the desk, just here.” Harry’s wrist settled over his so he’d know where to reach, the world fading into a soft fuzziness. But as soon as they clinked onto the table, he was dragging them back together. Hands framing Harry’s face and slotting them perfectly together. Harry’s own fists bunching the fabric of Charlie’s shirt, fingers skidding along the tick muscle through the fabric as the kiss great wetter and filthier.
By the time Charlie pulled back, he felt hot and itchy, a strange thrumming under his skin. “It really is all about the tongue, but teeth are pretty good too.” A low moan tumbled out after Charlie’s nip to his lip. “Of course,” thick fingers dragged though his hair, “we mustn’t forget necking.” He felt himself groan at Charlie’s tone. Then his head was being tipped just so, and those hot wet lips were pressing against his collar bone.
“Like any other kiss Harry, lips,” his mouth pressed faintly along the length of his neck, “teeth.”
“Ah.” Charlie bit and held, pressing firmly.
“And tongue.” Harry gasped as Charlie released his neck, tongue laving a wet apologetic kiss.
The pattern repeated itself and morphed. Charlie mixing gentle nibbles with sharp nips, tongue drawing meaningless swirls and other times tracing ruins into his skin. He let his head fall back, loosely rolling his shoulders as Charlie switched sides.
Time slowed and grew sticky, the itch growing with a fevered pace under his skin, tension pooling in his gut until he finally felt his hips buck. Eyes flying open in horror at the sudden realisation of his arousal, hands scrambling to Charlie’s chest to push away.
“Hey no, no Harry.” Thick arms enclosed him. “It’s fine, it’s normal. Just go with it.” He felt himself drawn impossibly closer, mortified at the knowledge of his arousal pressing into Charlie’s stomach. “Go with it.” Those maddening lips were back at his neck, arms tightening and releasing, pushing him into a rhythm that felt like everything he needed. Embarrassment twisted with arousal as he felt himself grind against Charlie though his jeans. “There you go Harry, you feel absolutely lovely.” He felt himself curl, hips twitching in and out of rhythm. “That’s it, thrust your hips Harry. Harder. Come on.” His voice felt like it was rumbling through him. “I want to watch you do it Harry, will you do it for me? Will you come for me Harry?” He felt like he was fracturing, everything tightening beyond imagination, hips stutter forward. “That’s it Harry. Merlin, you look hot.”
Harry’s pulse thundered in his ears, pounding through him as he panted. He felt wrung out and sticky, gradually growing more aware of the dampness spreading through his underwear.
“Shit Harry, that was,” he felt too open to kiss back properly, like every instruction Charlie had imparted had tumbled out of his head, “gorgeous, just gorgeous.” With very little effort, Charlie twisted and lowered him onto the bed, sprawling him back onto the sheets as he tried to catch his breath. “French call that frottage. Personally, I’m a bit of a fan of rutting, matches the urgency a bit better, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Damn he sounded all fluttery and wispy.
“Certainly did wonders for loosening you up.” He felt that dirty grin press against his cheek as Charlie left a kiss.
“Yeah.” He let his hand flap uselessly in the air. “That was brilliant. I’ll let you get back to your…” He really needed to get his co-ordination back. Wouldn’t be much good if this sexing thing left him like this for too long. “Cheers, I’ll just be… off.”
Charlie tugged him, splaying his legs either side of Charlie’s hips. “Oh Harry, we’re not done yet.” That wasn’t even slightly reassuring.
“What?” There was his coordination. He shoved up onto his elbows eyes wide as he tried to force Charlie back into focus.
“We’ve got more ground to cover Harry.” Charlie dropped forward onto his hands, resting practically cheek to cheek. “Look at you, tensing up and undoing all my hard work.”
Hips pressed against his, twisting in a slow circle, sensitivity making it skim the edge of too much. “I’ll just have to loosen you up again.”
Harry fell back flat against the bed, unsure how he could possibly do that again. His concern must have been painted clear across his face. “Not that Harry. Bit much even at your age.
“A massage, I think.” Cool air ran across his skin as Charlie sat back on his heels. “Let’s get those jeans off.” Within moments, swift sure hands had divested him of his trousers, dropping them atop his t-shirt, and then settling on the meat of his thighs. “Merlin Harry, you look positively obscene.”
“Can I take these off?” The urge to be rid of the wet sticky mess clinging to his skin warred with the desire to stay covered in the bright light of the room.
“I-” He wanted to say no and at the same time, he wanted desperately to not disappoint Charlie.
“Whoa.” Thick calloused fingers ran up and down his thighs, stroking soothingly. “It’s okay, plenty we can do with them still on.” The palms pressed into the joint of groin and thigh. “You’re always allowed to say no.” The reassurance coiled warmly in his gut, lifting some of his anxiety. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” It felt incredibly loud for a whisper, but there it was. Despite his nervousness, he didn’t want this to stop, wherever it was going.
“Okay.” Charlie’s hands patted his thigh, his voice lightening once more. “A nice massage will be good to get back into things.”
Harry twisted to roll over. “No, stay as you are. We’ll start on the front.” It wasn’t what he expected, but Charlie certainly seemed to be the expert in this, and really it couldn’t be as intense as what had preceded, so he let himself settle back as he was.
Charlie shifted away, fumbling open a drawer and routing around briefly, the object hidden in his hand. “What’s that?” The lack of glasses made it hard to distinguish anything from the general blur.
“Potion.” Charlie’s hand guided his to run along the cut glass bottle. “Very versatile mix, it’ll work well for this and a little fun later.” He gasped as the slick coolness dropped and spread across his chest. The vial dropped to the side allowing broad hands to spread the potion up and across his shoulders. “Do you know your muscle groups Harry?”
Charlie waited, finger tips resting against the base of his neck. “No.”
“Figured a quidditch player like you might know a few.”
“Wood was pretty strict on me focusing on the snitch.”
“Well, no better time to lean. These are your deltoids.” Fingers curled across his shoulders, kneading deep into the muscle. Rolling from the base of his neck to the top of his arms, tilting his head ever so now and again. Palms progressively moved lower, “Perctoralis major,” then sweeping to encompass his chest. The touch felt electric, goosebumps rising as the muscles loosened. Harry felt his nipples tighten despite the almost professional air to Charlie’s touch. Fingers moved with no particular focus on teasing, just warming and loosening the muscle. “Below the pecs, you’ll find the serraus anterior.”
Charlie’s thumb swiped a nipple, Harry’s back arching as he moaned, before flowing down to follow the curve of his ribs. Fingers digging into the flesh, pressing into too sharp ribs.
He didn’t linger long, moving onward to the dip of Harry’s stomach. “These are you obliquus.” Hands moulding across his stomach and aide. “Under that you have the rectus adominis.” His fingers skimmed the front of his stomach down to the waistband of Harry’s boxers, following its dip as the muscles tensed. “The transverse adominis run along your side. All Together, they form the abdomen. The core muscles.”
Charlie began a steady drift from the ridge of his waistband to the top of his shoulders and back, pausing occasionally to dig in with thumb and finger to work at tight bunches of flesh. The slow sure touch warmed him, a ruddy colour blossoming once more over his skin. The occasional groan escaping Harry’s mouth.
“The deltoids connect to the triceps.” Hands worried at an upper arm, tugging downwards steadily, curving around. “Next come the biceps.” When his arm was finally loose and useless Charlie released it and began on the other, following the same lingering route.
“Legs now.” Charlie slapped lightly at Harry’s inner thigh. “Work with me, I need your leg up here.” A brief tussle later and Charlie had Harry’s leg settled over his shoulder, the muscles tight with the stretch. Fingers teasing under the leg of his shorts and making him unavoidably aware of the tingling in his groin and the splay of his legs.
“Uh Charlie… is this really. I mean, it’s kinda…” Sentence; there was definitely a sentence in there somewhere. “A bit, much.”
Charlie rubbed his chin against his leg. “Easier to stretch you out.” A hand slid to rest at the dip of his groin. “I think we should play a bit of a game.”
The squeeze so close made his hips jerk. “Ah.”
“If you can remember half the muscle names there’ll be a happy ending with this massage.”
“There are unhappy ending?” Okay, now it just wasn’t right to have someone sniggering when you were all… open like this.
“Mmmm, so I think you might want to focus now Harry.” Thumbs dug into his thigh and began a slow drag downwards. “Quadriceps and sartonius.” A swipe across the back of his knee had that itch reigniting under his skin. Hands sweeping upwards and twisting around his leg before drawing back down. It seemed to go on and on, hands drawing o-so close to where that itch centred and then backing away.
“What’s next?” His voice was a croak.
Charlie’s thumb lingered, tracing circles on the back of his knee. “The tibialis anterior.” Hands encircled his knee, and stoked quick and sharp downwards before slowly working their way back up. Once satisfied, Charlie lowered his leg carefully, dragging the other to rest over his shoulder.
“Tell me the muscles Harry.” Fingers sunk into the top of his leg, curving down and round to his inner thigh.
“Sartonius.” He felt his hips buck as those fingers turned on the entirety of his thigh. “Q-quads.” Too soon hands were curling around his lower leg. “Tibi…alis.”
“Nice.” His breath was shaky and heavy, his gut twisting slightly at the thickening in Charlie’s voice. “Very nice.”
“I think I’ve earned my happy ending.” Harry replied with a grin.
“Ah.” Charlie hitched Harry’s leg higher, thumb stoking the back of his knee. “You’re forgetting something Harry.”
“What?”
The sudden bend had his hips hitching, Charlie leaning forward, curving his spine to press a brief open kiss to his lips. “Still have to do your back.” Settling back on his heels, Charlie dislodged Harry’s leg with a shrug before shifting to sit beside Harry. “Turn over.”
As he settled on his front, Harry could hear fabric rustling, and then a cool rush of liquid was trailed down his spine. Heat radiated from where Charlie had slung a leg over and hovered above him. “I’m going to straddle you Harry, it’ll make things easier, but if the pressure’s too much tell me.” Then he was settling, pressing Harry’s hips downwards, forcing his prick into the sheets and making him groan.
“Just a few muscle groups here.”
“How do you know all this?” His voice was muffled in the sheets, Charlie’s hands spreading the potion with a light touch over the skin of his back.
“Quidditch. Our first captain made it part of the after match ritual.” His fingers kneaded at the nape of his neck, occasionally trailing over his shoulders. “Her dad was something called a Fizzy-o. I picked some of it up after a while. Now up top there’s the capitis cervicis and erector spinae.”
Hands dropped to the small of his back, the heel of his palms pressing in and running upwards. “Latissimus dorsi.” The stroke repeated, fingers fanning out over his shoulder blades. “Trapezius.” Each repetition ended just a little lower, fingers scratching occasionally at the skin of his sides. Until finally they were skimming the waistband of his underwear, Charlie lifting up to allow his fingers to trail over the fabric and rest on the meat of each cheek.
“Gluteus maximus.” Charlie led with the heel of his hand, digging in and kneading outwards. “I know this one definitely needs something after a match.” That sounded far too filthy for what Charlie must have had in mind.
“Oh god.” Harry felt himself twitch, each movement shifting him against the sheets, the changes in pressure stimulating him.
“Think you can remember those Harry?”
“How?” Evil, Charlie was pure evil. “Why?”
“Happy ending remember.”
“Shit.” Charlie’s continuing ministrations certainly weren’t helping. “Uh, biceps… triceps…”
“Good.” Fabric rucked as Charlie squeezed his cheeks pressing them together. “Couple more and I’ll show you what it’s like to rub your prostate.”
“Quads.” Did he want his prostate rubbed? What the hell was a prostate anyway? What was that one in the chest… “Pecs.”
“Good enough.” Charlie shifted back, drawing Harry up onto hands and knees. “This might be a little intense.” A hand settled low on his stomach, the other stroking his inner thigh. “There’s a patch of skin behind your balls Harry. I’m going to put my hand there.” His knuckles brushed against the back of his balls, his prick twitching at the touch. “Your prostate is a small gland inside the body, and if I press just right.” Fingers stroked with increasing strength, stilling when Harry jumped and gasped, collapsing forward onto his elbows. “I should be able to stimulate it.”
“What was that?” The feeling was incredible, his prick quickly growing from half hard to tenting his boxers.
“That Harry was your prostate.” As his fingers pressed again, Charlie’s other hand kept Harry from jumping too far. “It’s a little gland inside the body that if you’re very lucky,” the rhythmic press drove the itch under his skin higher and higher, “You can externally stimulate it.”
“Oh, Charlie, oh-” He didn’t think it was possible for his boxers to feel any wetter, but it felt like he was leaking, each press drawing him closer to some precipice. Everything pulling tight… and then nothing. Charlie’s hand clasping his thigh and holding him still as he tried to thrust back. “Charlie.”
“Two more Harry and I’ll keep going.”
“I can’t, I-” Every thought felt like it was spinning away.
“Two more or I stop.” Hands jerked his hips back and threw him off balance as he tried to reach down to grab his prick. “Ah ah. Two more Harry.”
“Fuck.” What was the last one? Surely he could remember that. That touch to his arse, what had he called it? “Glu… glue-tas maxima.”
“Gluteus maximus.”
The room swam as Charlie tugged him back onto his knees, pulling him into his lap, and pressing into miles of skin. Oh god, that was what that rustle of fabric was. He pressed back into Charlie’s bare chest. His own hands falling to his lap ready to squeeze and pull, only to be grabbed and held firm against his chest, Charlie’s arms encircling him.
“One more, Harry.” The press of coarse hair and skin scarred by burns and slashes made it difficult to think. Dropping his chin to his chest, he could see faintly the obscene stretch of wet cloth over his prick. “Please, just one more.” Charlie sounded just as desperate as he felt.
There had to be something, what was in the stomach, could he remember that?
Charlie’s lips pressed to his shoulder. “The things I want to do with you Harry.” Teeth nipping at his collarbone. “One more and I’ll put my hand in your boxers, I won’t touch your cock, not yet. I want to see how close I can get you just by pressing your prostate. Then I’ll touch you, I’ll show you exactly how I want to touch you.” Jean clad hips thrust up against his arse making him whimper, Charlie’s mouth a wet mess against his shoulder. “But I need one more name Harry.”
Shoulder! There was something in the shoulder. Shit... D! D, it began with D. De, del… del-del-toad, del-tea, “Deltoid!”
Charlie yanked his boxers down over his prick letting it smack against his stomach. His hand lifting his balls, the other curling and pressing behind them. “Beautiful Harry.”
The sudden return of stimulation had his stomach clenching, body hunching forward and hands scrambling for something solid to hold. One hand encircling Charlie’s arm, feeling the muscles tense and shift with each press, the other grasping at his thigh. “Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, more, less, something entirely different. His fingers press into burn scars as if in doing so he could feed that want into Charlie.
“Relax Harry, push back into me, that’s it.” He let his head flop back onto Charlie’s shoulder. “Does it feel good when I squeeze your testes Harry?” His back arched as Charlie gently increased the pressure on his balls.
“Christ.” He couldn’t fight the squirm even if it did shift that maddening hand pressing against him.
“You’ve got a lovely prick Harry, would you like me to play with it?” He squeezed at Harry’s balls, thumb stroking at the base of his prick. “I want to stroke it, squeeze it, play along the shaft and toy with your foreskin. I want to thumb over the meatus and slick you up with your own fluid. But you have to tell me if you want me to.”
His cheeks were aflame, Charlie’s voice reverberating around his, his breath skimming his ear. “Please, please Charlie. Please, please.”
“You want me to touch your penis Harry?”
“Yessss.” His breath rushed out of him as Charlie abandoned his balls and wrapped his fist around his cock.
“You’ve got such a pretty penis Harry. A lovely handful.” He didn’t stroke, just gave it a little squeeze. “I can feel your pulse here, the thrum in your vein.” He began to move his hand, Harry’s mouth falling open as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you like it when I stroke your shaft?” His hand twisted, sliding up and drawing his foreskin over the head of his prick. “I bet it feels nice when I pull it over your glans, makes it feel like you’re being enveloped.”
Harry whined as Charlie relented on pressing against his prostate to pull down his balls. “Shhh Harry, I don’t want you coming too soon.” The tightening in his gut relented, but not enough, everything felt so close. “I wonder if you’ll scream when I touch your meatus, that’s the slit Harry. It’s so very sensitive and you’re already so wet, I bet you’ll soak me when I do.”
He felt like howling when Charlie finally swiped his thumb over the head, hips jerking forward, shoulders pressing back into Charlie’s chest.
“Shit.” Charlie pressed his fingers tight around the root of his prick, fingers and thumb pressing into the vein. “Too much Harry?” He nearly bellowed in reply, having come so close and been thwarted. “Sorry, I don’t want you coming too quickly.” His hand abandoned the space between his legs, grabbing for the glass vial. “I want to fuck you. Can I Harry?” Liquid spilled over his stomach, running between his legs. “Will you let me inside you?”
“Anything.” He couldn’t manage more than a whisper, the thought of what would follow made his balls draw tight.
“Just one finger to start.” Charlie slid his hand through the potion on Harry’s stomach, slicking it to slide between his legs, a finger trailing around his opening. “Just a gentle touch to begin with.” His finger circled, tapping on every third pass. “A little pressure.” He didn’t thrust it in, just resting it, pressing with the pad until Harry’s hips pushed down into it. “Good. I’m going to put it in now, just to the first knuckle.”
The breach made him gasp. It wasn’t painful, but weird.
“A little mimicry now. I won’t go any deeper than the first knuckle.” Charlie slipped his finger free, tracing the rim of his hole before thrusting back in and pulling out once more.
It wasn’t enough, the shallow penetration stroked at the itch running under his skin. “More.”
When it returned this time Charlie pressed a little deeper, sliding to the second knuckle. “Is that enough Harry?”
It wasn’t. “More.” He drove his hips downwards, forcing Charlie to press the full length of his finger inside. “Your hand Charlie, please, your hand.”
“Oh Harry.” Charlie twisted his fist, stroking Harry’s prick as he drew out his fingers, tracing around his hole with two fingers now. “More this time, two fingers.”
The penetration sent a twinge through him, it lowered to pressure building in him just a little. Charlie thrust shallowly, letting him relax, loosen. “Open up for me Harry.” He scissored his fingers. “You’re so tight Harry, so very warm. Let me in, it’ll feel so very good.” The thrusts slowly grew in depth, the tight grip of his fist twisting over his cock helped Harry relax his muscles.
“Do you remember the prostate Harry?” The soft thrust switched into a rough push, driving his fingers deep. “If I curl my fingers just so, I should be able to…”
“Oh god!” It was too much, Harry felt himself pulse, spunk coating Charlie’s hand and streaking across the bottom of his stomach.
“Harry.” Charlie’s voice was a purr, his fingers stilling inside, but not withdrawing. “I’m not going to stop, not unless you tell me to.”
Harry felt wanton, “Don’t stop.” He twisted, brushing a kiss against Charlie’s jaw.
“On your back, I want you on your back.”
His fingers withdrew slowly, Harry’s hole clenching down as they slipped from him. His movements were rough, restrained but hasty as he pushed Harry from his lap. As Harry lounged back against the bed, he grabbed his hips, pulling them up onto his lap.
“We need to loosen you up further.” Two fingers pressed back in, twisted and scissoring. “You feel incredible Harry. I’m going to add another finger now.” He drew back, his fingers spread, holding Harry open as he slipped in a third, the increased stretch making Harry shiver. “So good.” He thrust forward, curling his fingers to pass over Harry’s prostate making his prick jump.
“Charlie!” It was too much too soon, but at the same time he didn’t want him to stop.
“Too much?” Charlie continued to thrust, his fingers steering clear of Harry’s prostate. “I think you’re ready now Harry. What do you say, can I put my cock in you?”
Harry fumbled for Charlie’s hand, twisting their fingers together as he continued to thrust his finger. “Yes.”
Charlie slipped his fingers free, hand dragging his zipped down, jeans smeared with liquid. He groaned as he freed his cock, stroking himself as he stared down at Harry.
“Charlie.” It felt unfair that he couldn’t see, that all he had was the faint blur.
“Condoms.” Harry curled as Charlie bent forward, yanking the drawer open and pulling out a small foil square. “Wonderful things muggles, much easier to manage than damn spells.” He tore the packet open with his teeth, sitting back to roll the rubber over his prick. “Relax for me Harry.” He pressed the head of his cock to Harry’s opening, resting. “Breath, it’ll make it easier.” He pressed in, stopping as the head slipped past the ring of muscle. “Merlin! So tight.”
Harry squirmed, a low burn creeping up his spine. Charlie flexed his hips, pushing further forward, pressing further into Harry, his prick rubbing over Harry’s prostate and marking him yelp.
“You feel incredible.” His hips rolled, the metal of his zipper biting into Harry’s cheeks. “I’m going to move now, I’m going to fuck your tight little arse.” He moved with shallow thrusts, hips rolling at the end of each inward stroke. “You’re so hot.” His thrusts grew stronger, cock sliding out further with each pass, lengthening the push. His cock brushed over Harry’s prostate. “I can feel you pulse, each tight shiver. Are you getting hard Harry?”
Harry moaned as Charlie traced a finger up his cock, encouraging the growing hardness. “How does it feel Harry?”
“Big, full. Feels… like too much, but good, I-” He bucked his hips, moving with Charlie’s steady thrusting, “I want more.”
Charlie bent forward, hand stripping Harry’s cock as he framed Harry’s face, drawing him into a wet messy kiss. Hips stuttering in and out of rhythm. “I’m close, you’ve done this to me Harry, squeezing me, grasping my cock so very tightly.” His movements strengthened, hips driving forward, barely pulling out, trying to force his way deeper. “Harry, Harry, oh Harry.”
Charlie bit his lip as he groaned out Harry’s name, hips faltering, falling out of rhythm. Harry moaned as he pulsed, Charlie twitching inside him, his own prick growing harder, Charlie’s release pushing him closer. “I need… Charlie, I need more.”
“So good, so very lovely.” Charlie’s hand tightened, moving with quick sharp jerks, hips humping forward to keep him inside. “Are you close Harry? Can you feel it coming? I want to see you come again, I want to feel you squeeze down around me. It’s going to hurt, but it’s going to feel so damn good.
“Come on Harry.” He thumbed a nipple making Harry’s back arch. “Come on.” His softening prick bumped against Harry’s prostate with every other thrust. “Please Harry, let me see you.
“Please.” Harry’s head tipped back, grinding his prick up into Charlie as it spurted weakly, his voice gone as Charlie begged him to come, pleasure on the very edge of pain.
He flopped back on the sheets, sweaty and flushed, sinking into them with a hiss as Charlie slowly withdrew, fingers tight around the base of his own cock. The bed dipping as he dropped down beside him. Charlie tugged him close, pulling his head to rest of his chest.
“Good?” Thankfully Charlie has the good sense to be just as breathless as he was.
“Yeah.”
Charlie rested his chin against Harry’s crown. “Not bad for a first lesson.”
Harry didn’t know quite how to reply to that. Instead he let himself quietly ponder exactly what had just happened, and how exactly a request for a sex talk had turned into this. He was sure he’d get it eventually.
End.
Author:
nixiedPrompt Number: #35 submitted by
nursedarryKink Showcased: Dirty Talk, clinical
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter
Summary: Harry’s never had “The Talk”, and after a careful process of elimination he’s left with Charlie… things don’t exactly go as planned.
Content Notes/Warnings: First time sex, embarrassment, multiple orgasms, rutting, prostate play, fingering, anal sex, bit of orgasm denial, medical terms, bad humour, my overly flowery way of writing.
Word Count: ~6600ish
Author's Notes: If I had to have a forte in writing, dialogue would definitely not be it, but I’ve given it the old college try. I’ve been deliberately ambiguous about Harry’s age, so he can be as old as you like. I hope it ticks at least some of your boxes. Also with regards to the muscles, it’s not exhaustive, but I figured Charlie might know a few having been a seeker and a dragon keeper. Edited since my mate gave it a thorough going over, all errors remaining are mine.
Things hadn’t gone exactly as Harry had expected when he’d come up with this plan. He thought it’d all result in one very awkward conversation and him seventeen shades of red. Instead he ended up wrung out and sticky with his own fluid, contemplating exactly what had just happened. Although he was pleased that he was at least right about the red thing.
Growing up with the family he had, Harry hadn’t had much of an education in the things all young men and women should know, and he’s heard enough gossip to know that he really needed to fill in the blanks. First he ruled out the library, there was no way he was going to ask Madam Pince for where those books were, or risk Malfoy spotting him with a dummies guide. And he certainly couldn’t ask Hermione; that would be far too awkward. Ron, Seamus and Dean were already the source of the bizarre gossip he had hear, so he wasn’t going to get much more out of them, and Neville had seemed as shocked as he had at some of the stuff Ron had shared. So his dorm mates were out. After learning that Fred and George were Ron’s source, he quickly scratched them off the list and made a note not to trust anything else Ron came up with about the subject. That left Percy, Charlie and Bill.
He couldn’t imagine talking to Percy about this, never mind that he wasn’t Percy’s favourite person right now to say the least, but if on the off chance he didn’t tell him to bugger off, he’d almost certainly find some convoluted way to tell Mr Weasley. Which meant Mrs Weasley would find out (married couples told each other everything right?), and then it just didn’t bare thinking about.
Bill was quickly written off once he realised he couldn’t even think about just having a casual chat with him about quidditch without blushing, let alone talk to him about this. So that left Charlie. He seemed friendly enough and was old enough to probably know plenty about it. Now he just had to work out how to ask him, Romania was a bit far way, and Harry, for the life of him, couldn’t see himself writing it down and sending it by owl. Just imagine if the deatheaters intercepted it! Well bugger.
That was the end of that the. At least it was until the summer. He’d arrived at the burrow after four hellish weeks with the Dursley’s, too tired to even worry about his problem, when his answer appeared in front of him. He’d wandered downstairs on his first morning, Ron still muttering about another five minutes, to find Charlie Wasley sat at the kitchen table munching on some toast.
Evidentially noticing the wide pair of eyes fixed on him, Charlie dropped his toast and turned with a smile. “Hello Harry.” Which was when Mrs Weasley spotted him, making Harry jump at her sudden greeting, completely unaware of her.
“Harry, good morning. Sit down, sit down.” Leaving nothing to chance, she bustled over and pushed him into the seat opposite Charlie. “You must be hungry dear.” A plate of fresh toast appeared in front of him, butter and jam already on the table. “Eat up.” Mrs Weasley popping a glass of juice next to it before turning back to the stove, the smell of bacon in the air as she busied herself with cooking.
Charlie nudged the butter over with a grin and Harry began to consider the next big issue he’d brushed over before… how was he going to get Charlie alone?
Six long days of trying desperately to find Charlie alone, and being thwarted at every turn, the opportunity finally arose. Mrs Weasley had taken one look at the new school list and declared a trip to Diagon Alley.
After a bit of careful planning and a quick owl to the twins, Harry plodded downstairs the morning of the trip having quickly swallowed the twin’s latest invention and muttered, “I don’t feel very good,” and promptly disappeared out the kitchen door to retch.
What followed nearly put everything he’d planned out the window; he hadn’t quite anticipated Mrs Weasley’s doting and announcement that they’d “simply have to cancel the trip until Harry was feeling better”. Despite his own assurances that he’d been fine alone at the burrow, even Ron had been coming up with things they could to till he felt better. Everything was going arse over tit as Dean would say, until Charlie piped up.
“I’ll look after him, mum.”
A hand over his forehead had Mrs Weasley tutting. “I don’t know dear.” She continued to eye him as if he was going to expire if she let him out of his sight.
“Can’t be any harder than taking care of a Hungarian Horntail, right Harry?” Charlie raised his glass to him and Harry offered a weak smile in return.
“Well Molly, probably be best to get as much as this dealt with soon as.” Mr Weasley’s words seemed to draw an agreement from Mrs Weasley and with that chaos descended.
A fair amount of fanfare later and more clucking from Mrs Weasley ensuring Charlie knew where every potion and spell book he might need was, the family gathered around the floo and were off. Leaving Harry tucked up on the sofa, bundled in a Weasley original patched quilt, pretending to sip a glass of potion spiked pumpkin juice, and alone with Charlie. And cursing the longevity of the twins’ trick and beginning to feel just a tiny bit sleepy, not much really, hardly tired at all, perfectly… awake…
Waking with a snap, Harry fumbled for his glasses, feeling his way along the little table near his head, nearly knocking over his still untouched pumpkin juice. Feeling a little disorientated, but with the Weasley treat firmly out of his system. Making a note to have a word with Fred and George when he next saw them about the sleeping thing, not exactly being part of what he’d asked for, he popped his glasses on and considered what to do next. First he had to find Charlie, then work out some way to broach the subject… actually first he had to untangle himself from this quilt.
Finding Charlie proved to be infinitely easier than escaping the quilt.
Ten minutes later he was stood outside Charlie’s room, watching him read a magazine on Dragon Feed, trying to come up with some way to get the ball rolling. In the end he went with the tried and the true, act first, think later.
“You’ve had sex.” Well it definitely worked to get Charlie’s attention, his feet smacked square on the floor, the magazine falling into his lap as he goggled at Harry.
“What?” Charlie spluttered.
“You’ve had sex. Right?” Oh god, what if he was wrong?
“That’s a bit personal Harry.” Charlie pushed a hand through his closely cut hair, eyes rolling to the side, whilst Harry kept his firmly on Charlie’s face. “But, yeah, I have.”
“Good.” Harry declared, nodding to himself. “I haven’t.”
Charlie seemed to be staring everywhere but at him. “I want you to teach me.” Well that got him to look at him.
“Oo-kay.” What on earth could he be doing wrong to get Charlie to be staring at him like that? Oh god, maybe wizards didn’t talk about this sort of thing? Maybe there was some wizard ritual to it all. Shit. Maybe he could suggest Hermione wrote a manual… you know, when he wasn’t dying of embarrassment.
“I – I mean.” Harry glanced away, slumping against the doorframe. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just.”
“Harry.” Damnit, here comes that damnable blush.
“I made a list,” Not making it better, “and you seemed, the best. Choice, I mean-” Ack! “I’ll go.”
There it was, Harry Potter, the boy damned to virginity because he couldn’t even talk about the whole thing. Maybe he could try obliviate. Professor Lockhart seemed to be doing alright after it.
Before he could clear the doorway though, Charlie was up and with a hand on each shoulder, pulling him into the room and pushing him down onto the bed.
“Harry, stop.” Giving a shoulder a squeeze, he ran the other hand across his face. “Let’s just clear a couple of things up.”
“It’s fine. I’m just.” His brain scrambled for an idea. “Delirious. Probably just delirious. I’ll be fine after some more pumpkin juice.”
“I think whatever the twins gave you has worn off by now.”
Well that was unexpected. “How?”
“I spotted the owl this morning. Their packaging isn’t very discreet.” The bed dipped as Charlie settled beside him.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I figured you just wanted some space. So I won’t tell.
“Now, are you sure you want me,” A wide hand squeezed his knee, “to teach you?”
“Yes.” His head bobbed rapidly.
“I bet there are plenty of guys your own age you could go to about this.”
“I already did.” Charlie’s hand slid a little higher to his thigh. “Ron seems to have gotten most of his knowledge off Fred and George.” Charlie’s expression seemed to agree with his assessment that the twin’s weren’t to be trusted. “And the other guys seem to come up with things just as wild.”
“So me?”
“So you.”
Charlie’s breath whistled through his teeth. “Okay.” Harry felt pinned by the scrutinising gaze. “Teach you. I can work with that.” Yes finally! “Everything starts with a kiss. Best start with closed mouth.”
And then there were warm dry lips on his, a hand cupping his cheek to guide him. That wasn’t what he’d planned. The pressure eased. “Or open mouthed.” The lips were back and Charlie was licking a stripe along his bottom lip. “Open your mouth Harry.” So he did and oh my god. Brain fried.
Charlie drew away far too early for Harry’s liking, his brain happily sent off packing on holiday while Charlie kissed him. “Everyone knows of French kissing, just add tongue.” That wicked grin was back, quickly hidden and Charlie pressed closer, his tongue slipping between his lips. Dancing with a wet thrust alongside his. A steady touch making his head spin, before softening to a gentle tickle that relented when he pushed his tongue against Charlie’s.
“Come here.” One hand kept his head close and their lips locked, the other Charlie used to tug Harry upwards so he kneeled with hunched shoulders. Fingers then sliding from waist to thigh, dragging it to swing over both of his own, leaving Harry straddling Charlie’s lap. The shift made it easier for his to bunch his hands in the shoulders of Charlie’s top, Charlie’s own fingers beginning to sneak under the hem of his.
Breaking the kiss with a wet smack, Charlie tightened his fingers in Harry’s hair, preventing him from re-joining them. “I want to take your top off Harry. Can I do that?”
Not seeing any issue, his hands tangled with Charlie’s at his waist. Four hands dragging the t-shirt upwards, his own breaking away as Charlie dragged it over his chest, head and away. Barely paying it any mind, Charlie let it fall into a bundle on the floor, eyes taking in Harry’s bared torso. “Lovely.”
He felt himself flush at Charlie’s gaze, suddenly beginning to regret the disrobement.
“You’ve no reason to be shy Harry.” Charlie’s thumbs stroked along his slides. “You are lovely.” Harry’s own hands fumbled to straighten his glasses, fighting the urge to cover himself. “I’m going to kiss you now.” Despite his own misgivings, Harry didn’t move away, a part of his brain reminding him of the fun just moments before.
The kiss felt chaste. Charlie’s lips brushing faintly against his, a hand returning to cup his cheek. The pressure only increasing when Harry pushed into it, a rush running through him. But short lived as Charlie pulled away. “Part your lips.” Then the faint touch was back, but as Harry relaxed and let his mouth open, the return of that mind zapping tongue occurred.
The gentle play continued, the pressure softening with each curl of tongue. He couldn’t quite understand what Charlie wanted. Each time he pressed into Charlie’s kiss, he softened the touch, tongue drawing away. Frustration crept through him until finally he clamped his lips down on Charlie’s tongue.
Realisation hit him with Charlie’s grunt and he froze. Mind tripping over itself to try to work out why the hell he’d done something like that. His lips parting as quickly as they’d closed. Harry stared with wide eyes at Charlie’s hooded ones, terrified of what might come next. But instead of drawing away and tossing him out on his arse, Charlie tilted his head and crushed their lips together.
Their teeth clicked, Harry’s glasses pressing painful into their skin. It was entirely artless. His lips felt overly wet and it was like they couldn’t quite fit back together. Frustrated, Charlie pulled back and lingered his fingertips over the frames of Harry’s glasses. “Trust me?” He sounded raspy and deep.
“Sure.” An echo under the panting of his own breath.
Charlie took great care with the glasses. “They’ll be on the desk, just here.” Harry’s wrist settled over his so he’d know where to reach, the world fading into a soft fuzziness. But as soon as they clinked onto the table, he was dragging them back together. Hands framing Harry’s face and slotting them perfectly together. Harry’s own fists bunching the fabric of Charlie’s shirt, fingers skidding along the tick muscle through the fabric as the kiss great wetter and filthier.
By the time Charlie pulled back, he felt hot and itchy, a strange thrumming under his skin. “It really is all about the tongue, but teeth are pretty good too.” A low moan tumbled out after Charlie’s nip to his lip. “Of course,” thick fingers dragged though his hair, “we mustn’t forget necking.” He felt himself groan at Charlie’s tone. Then his head was being tipped just so, and those hot wet lips were pressing against his collar bone.
“Like any other kiss Harry, lips,” his mouth pressed faintly along the length of his neck, “teeth.”
“Ah.” Charlie bit and held, pressing firmly.
“And tongue.” Harry gasped as Charlie released his neck, tongue laving a wet apologetic kiss.
The pattern repeated itself and morphed. Charlie mixing gentle nibbles with sharp nips, tongue drawing meaningless swirls and other times tracing ruins into his skin. He let his head fall back, loosely rolling his shoulders as Charlie switched sides.
Time slowed and grew sticky, the itch growing with a fevered pace under his skin, tension pooling in his gut until he finally felt his hips buck. Eyes flying open in horror at the sudden realisation of his arousal, hands scrambling to Charlie’s chest to push away.
“Hey no, no Harry.” Thick arms enclosed him. “It’s fine, it’s normal. Just go with it.” He felt himself drawn impossibly closer, mortified at the knowledge of his arousal pressing into Charlie’s stomach. “Go with it.” Those maddening lips were back at his neck, arms tightening and releasing, pushing him into a rhythm that felt like everything he needed. Embarrassment twisted with arousal as he felt himself grind against Charlie though his jeans. “There you go Harry, you feel absolutely lovely.” He felt himself curl, hips twitching in and out of rhythm. “That’s it, thrust your hips Harry. Harder. Come on.” His voice felt like it was rumbling through him. “I want to watch you do it Harry, will you do it for me? Will you come for me Harry?” He felt like he was fracturing, everything tightening beyond imagination, hips stutter forward. “That’s it Harry. Merlin, you look hot.”
Harry’s pulse thundered in his ears, pounding through him as he panted. He felt wrung out and sticky, gradually growing more aware of the dampness spreading through his underwear.
“Shit Harry, that was,” he felt too open to kiss back properly, like every instruction Charlie had imparted had tumbled out of his head, “gorgeous, just gorgeous.” With very little effort, Charlie twisted and lowered him onto the bed, sprawling him back onto the sheets as he tried to catch his breath. “French call that frottage. Personally, I’m a bit of a fan of rutting, matches the urgency a bit better, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Damn he sounded all fluttery and wispy.
“Certainly did wonders for loosening you up.” He felt that dirty grin press against his cheek as Charlie left a kiss.
“Yeah.” He let his hand flap uselessly in the air. “That was brilliant. I’ll let you get back to your…” He really needed to get his co-ordination back. Wouldn’t be much good if this sexing thing left him like this for too long. “Cheers, I’ll just be… off.”
Charlie tugged him, splaying his legs either side of Charlie’s hips. “Oh Harry, we’re not done yet.” That wasn’t even slightly reassuring.
“What?” There was his coordination. He shoved up onto his elbows eyes wide as he tried to force Charlie back into focus.
“We’ve got more ground to cover Harry.” Charlie dropped forward onto his hands, resting practically cheek to cheek. “Look at you, tensing up and undoing all my hard work.”
Hips pressed against his, twisting in a slow circle, sensitivity making it skim the edge of too much. “I’ll just have to loosen you up again.”
Harry fell back flat against the bed, unsure how he could possibly do that again. His concern must have been painted clear across his face. “Not that Harry. Bit much even at your age.
“A massage, I think.” Cool air ran across his skin as Charlie sat back on his heels. “Let’s get those jeans off.” Within moments, swift sure hands had divested him of his trousers, dropping them atop his t-shirt, and then settling on the meat of his thighs. “Merlin Harry, you look positively obscene.”
“Can I take these off?” The urge to be rid of the wet sticky mess clinging to his skin warred with the desire to stay covered in the bright light of the room.
“I-” He wanted to say no and at the same time, he wanted desperately to not disappoint Charlie.
“Whoa.” Thick calloused fingers ran up and down his thighs, stroking soothingly. “It’s okay, plenty we can do with them still on.” The palms pressed into the joint of groin and thigh. “You’re always allowed to say no.” The reassurance coiled warmly in his gut, lifting some of his anxiety. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” It felt incredibly loud for a whisper, but there it was. Despite his nervousness, he didn’t want this to stop, wherever it was going.
“Okay.” Charlie’s hands patted his thigh, his voice lightening once more. “A nice massage will be good to get back into things.”
Harry twisted to roll over. “No, stay as you are. We’ll start on the front.” It wasn’t what he expected, but Charlie certainly seemed to be the expert in this, and really it couldn’t be as intense as what had preceded, so he let himself settle back as he was.
Charlie shifted away, fumbling open a drawer and routing around briefly, the object hidden in his hand. “What’s that?” The lack of glasses made it hard to distinguish anything from the general blur.
“Potion.” Charlie’s hand guided his to run along the cut glass bottle. “Very versatile mix, it’ll work well for this and a little fun later.” He gasped as the slick coolness dropped and spread across his chest. The vial dropped to the side allowing broad hands to spread the potion up and across his shoulders. “Do you know your muscle groups Harry?”
Charlie waited, finger tips resting against the base of his neck. “No.”
“Figured a quidditch player like you might know a few.”
“Wood was pretty strict on me focusing on the snitch.”
“Well, no better time to lean. These are your deltoids.” Fingers curled across his shoulders, kneading deep into the muscle. Rolling from the base of his neck to the top of his arms, tilting his head ever so now and again. Palms progressively moved lower, “Perctoralis major,” then sweeping to encompass his chest. The touch felt electric, goosebumps rising as the muscles loosened. Harry felt his nipples tighten despite the almost professional air to Charlie’s touch. Fingers moved with no particular focus on teasing, just warming and loosening the muscle. “Below the pecs, you’ll find the serraus anterior.”
Charlie’s thumb swiped a nipple, Harry’s back arching as he moaned, before flowing down to follow the curve of his ribs. Fingers digging into the flesh, pressing into too sharp ribs.
He didn’t linger long, moving onward to the dip of Harry’s stomach. “These are you obliquus.” Hands moulding across his stomach and aide. “Under that you have the rectus adominis.” His fingers skimmed the front of his stomach down to the waistband of Harry’s boxers, following its dip as the muscles tensed. “The transverse adominis run along your side. All Together, they form the abdomen. The core muscles.”
Charlie began a steady drift from the ridge of his waistband to the top of his shoulders and back, pausing occasionally to dig in with thumb and finger to work at tight bunches of flesh. The slow sure touch warmed him, a ruddy colour blossoming once more over his skin. The occasional groan escaping Harry’s mouth.
“The deltoids connect to the triceps.” Hands worried at an upper arm, tugging downwards steadily, curving around. “Next come the biceps.” When his arm was finally loose and useless Charlie released it and began on the other, following the same lingering route.
“Legs now.” Charlie slapped lightly at Harry’s inner thigh. “Work with me, I need your leg up here.” A brief tussle later and Charlie had Harry’s leg settled over his shoulder, the muscles tight with the stretch. Fingers teasing under the leg of his shorts and making him unavoidably aware of the tingling in his groin and the splay of his legs.
“Uh Charlie… is this really. I mean, it’s kinda…” Sentence; there was definitely a sentence in there somewhere. “A bit, much.”
Charlie rubbed his chin against his leg. “Easier to stretch you out.” A hand slid to rest at the dip of his groin. “I think we should play a bit of a game.”
The squeeze so close made his hips jerk. “Ah.”
“If you can remember half the muscle names there’ll be a happy ending with this massage.”
“There are unhappy ending?” Okay, now it just wasn’t right to have someone sniggering when you were all… open like this.
“Mmmm, so I think you might want to focus now Harry.” Thumbs dug into his thigh and began a slow drag downwards. “Quadriceps and sartonius.” A swipe across the back of his knee had that itch reigniting under his skin. Hands sweeping upwards and twisting around his leg before drawing back down. It seemed to go on and on, hands drawing o-so close to where that itch centred and then backing away.
“What’s next?” His voice was a croak.
Charlie’s thumb lingered, tracing circles on the back of his knee. “The tibialis anterior.” Hands encircled his knee, and stoked quick and sharp downwards before slowly working their way back up. Once satisfied, Charlie lowered his leg carefully, dragging the other to rest over his shoulder.
“Tell me the muscles Harry.” Fingers sunk into the top of his leg, curving down and round to his inner thigh.
“Sartonius.” He felt his hips buck as those fingers turned on the entirety of his thigh. “Q-quads.” Too soon hands were curling around his lower leg. “Tibi…alis.”
“Nice.” His breath was shaky and heavy, his gut twisting slightly at the thickening in Charlie’s voice. “Very nice.”
“I think I’ve earned my happy ending.” Harry replied with a grin.
“Ah.” Charlie hitched Harry’s leg higher, thumb stoking the back of his knee. “You’re forgetting something Harry.”
“What?”
The sudden bend had his hips hitching, Charlie leaning forward, curving his spine to press a brief open kiss to his lips. “Still have to do your back.” Settling back on his heels, Charlie dislodged Harry’s leg with a shrug before shifting to sit beside Harry. “Turn over.”
As he settled on his front, Harry could hear fabric rustling, and then a cool rush of liquid was trailed down his spine. Heat radiated from where Charlie had slung a leg over and hovered above him. “I’m going to straddle you Harry, it’ll make things easier, but if the pressure’s too much tell me.” Then he was settling, pressing Harry’s hips downwards, forcing his prick into the sheets and making him groan.
“Just a few muscle groups here.”
“How do you know all this?” His voice was muffled in the sheets, Charlie’s hands spreading the potion with a light touch over the skin of his back.
“Quidditch. Our first captain made it part of the after match ritual.” His fingers kneaded at the nape of his neck, occasionally trailing over his shoulders. “Her dad was something called a Fizzy-o. I picked some of it up after a while. Now up top there’s the capitis cervicis and erector spinae.”
Hands dropped to the small of his back, the heel of his palms pressing in and running upwards. “Latissimus dorsi.” The stroke repeated, fingers fanning out over his shoulder blades. “Trapezius.” Each repetition ended just a little lower, fingers scratching occasionally at the skin of his sides. Until finally they were skimming the waistband of his underwear, Charlie lifting up to allow his fingers to trail over the fabric and rest on the meat of each cheek.
“Gluteus maximus.” Charlie led with the heel of his hand, digging in and kneading outwards. “I know this one definitely needs something after a match.” That sounded far too filthy for what Charlie must have had in mind.
“Oh god.” Harry felt himself twitch, each movement shifting him against the sheets, the changes in pressure stimulating him.
“Think you can remember those Harry?”
“How?” Evil, Charlie was pure evil. “Why?”
“Happy ending remember.”
“Shit.” Charlie’s continuing ministrations certainly weren’t helping. “Uh, biceps… triceps…”
“Good.” Fabric rucked as Charlie squeezed his cheeks pressing them together. “Couple more and I’ll show you what it’s like to rub your prostate.”
“Quads.” Did he want his prostate rubbed? What the hell was a prostate anyway? What was that one in the chest… “Pecs.”
“Good enough.” Charlie shifted back, drawing Harry up onto hands and knees. “This might be a little intense.” A hand settled low on his stomach, the other stroking his inner thigh. “There’s a patch of skin behind your balls Harry. I’m going to put my hand there.” His knuckles brushed against the back of his balls, his prick twitching at the touch. “Your prostate is a small gland inside the body, and if I press just right.” Fingers stroked with increasing strength, stilling when Harry jumped and gasped, collapsing forward onto his elbows. “I should be able to stimulate it.”
“What was that?” The feeling was incredible, his prick quickly growing from half hard to tenting his boxers.
“That Harry was your prostate.” As his fingers pressed again, Charlie’s other hand kept Harry from jumping too far. “It’s a little gland inside the body that if you’re very lucky,” the rhythmic press drove the itch under his skin higher and higher, “You can externally stimulate it.”
“Oh, Charlie, oh-” He didn’t think it was possible for his boxers to feel any wetter, but it felt like he was leaking, each press drawing him closer to some precipice. Everything pulling tight… and then nothing. Charlie’s hand clasping his thigh and holding him still as he tried to thrust back. “Charlie.”
“Two more Harry and I’ll keep going.”
“I can’t, I-” Every thought felt like it was spinning away.
“Two more or I stop.” Hands jerked his hips back and threw him off balance as he tried to reach down to grab his prick. “Ah ah. Two more Harry.”
“Fuck.” What was the last one? Surely he could remember that. That touch to his arse, what had he called it? “Glu… glue-tas maxima.”
“Gluteus maximus.”
The room swam as Charlie tugged him back onto his knees, pulling him into his lap, and pressing into miles of skin. Oh god, that was what that rustle of fabric was. He pressed back into Charlie’s bare chest. His own hands falling to his lap ready to squeeze and pull, only to be grabbed and held firm against his chest, Charlie’s arms encircling him.
“One more, Harry.” The press of coarse hair and skin scarred by burns and slashes made it difficult to think. Dropping his chin to his chest, he could see faintly the obscene stretch of wet cloth over his prick. “Please, just one more.” Charlie sounded just as desperate as he felt.
There had to be something, what was in the stomach, could he remember that?
Charlie’s lips pressed to his shoulder. “The things I want to do with you Harry.” Teeth nipping at his collarbone. “One more and I’ll put my hand in your boxers, I won’t touch your cock, not yet. I want to see how close I can get you just by pressing your prostate. Then I’ll touch you, I’ll show you exactly how I want to touch you.” Jean clad hips thrust up against his arse making him whimper, Charlie’s mouth a wet mess against his shoulder. “But I need one more name Harry.”
Shoulder! There was something in the shoulder. Shit... D! D, it began with D. De, del… del-del-toad, del-tea, “Deltoid!”
Charlie yanked his boxers down over his prick letting it smack against his stomach. His hand lifting his balls, the other curling and pressing behind them. “Beautiful Harry.”
The sudden return of stimulation had his stomach clenching, body hunching forward and hands scrambling for something solid to hold. One hand encircling Charlie’s arm, feeling the muscles tense and shift with each press, the other grasping at his thigh. “Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, more, less, something entirely different. His fingers press into burn scars as if in doing so he could feed that want into Charlie.
“Relax Harry, push back into me, that’s it.” He let his head flop back onto Charlie’s shoulder. “Does it feel good when I squeeze your testes Harry?” His back arched as Charlie gently increased the pressure on his balls.
“Christ.” He couldn’t fight the squirm even if it did shift that maddening hand pressing against him.
“You’ve got a lovely prick Harry, would you like me to play with it?” He squeezed at Harry’s balls, thumb stroking at the base of his prick. “I want to stroke it, squeeze it, play along the shaft and toy with your foreskin. I want to thumb over the meatus and slick you up with your own fluid. But you have to tell me if you want me to.”
His cheeks were aflame, Charlie’s voice reverberating around his, his breath skimming his ear. “Please, please Charlie. Please, please.”
“You want me to touch your penis Harry?”
“Yessss.” His breath rushed out of him as Charlie abandoned his balls and wrapped his fist around his cock.
“You’ve got such a pretty penis Harry. A lovely handful.” He didn’t stroke, just gave it a little squeeze. “I can feel your pulse here, the thrum in your vein.” He began to move his hand, Harry’s mouth falling open as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you like it when I stroke your shaft?” His hand twisted, sliding up and drawing his foreskin over the head of his prick. “I bet it feels nice when I pull it over your glans, makes it feel like you’re being enveloped.”
Harry whined as Charlie relented on pressing against his prostate to pull down his balls. “Shhh Harry, I don’t want you coming too soon.” The tightening in his gut relented, but not enough, everything felt so close. “I wonder if you’ll scream when I touch your meatus, that’s the slit Harry. It’s so very sensitive and you’re already so wet, I bet you’ll soak me when I do.”
He felt like howling when Charlie finally swiped his thumb over the head, hips jerking forward, shoulders pressing back into Charlie’s chest.
“Shit.” Charlie pressed his fingers tight around the root of his prick, fingers and thumb pressing into the vein. “Too much Harry?” He nearly bellowed in reply, having come so close and been thwarted. “Sorry, I don’t want you coming too quickly.” His hand abandoned the space between his legs, grabbing for the glass vial. “I want to fuck you. Can I Harry?” Liquid spilled over his stomach, running between his legs. “Will you let me inside you?”
“Anything.” He couldn’t manage more than a whisper, the thought of what would follow made his balls draw tight.
“Just one finger to start.” Charlie slid his hand through the potion on Harry’s stomach, slicking it to slide between his legs, a finger trailing around his opening. “Just a gentle touch to begin with.” His finger circled, tapping on every third pass. “A little pressure.” He didn’t thrust it in, just resting it, pressing with the pad until Harry’s hips pushed down into it. “Good. I’m going to put it in now, just to the first knuckle.”
The breach made him gasp. It wasn’t painful, but weird.
“A little mimicry now. I won’t go any deeper than the first knuckle.” Charlie slipped his finger free, tracing the rim of his hole before thrusting back in and pulling out once more.
It wasn’t enough, the shallow penetration stroked at the itch running under his skin. “More.”
When it returned this time Charlie pressed a little deeper, sliding to the second knuckle. “Is that enough Harry?”
It wasn’t. “More.” He drove his hips downwards, forcing Charlie to press the full length of his finger inside. “Your hand Charlie, please, your hand.”
“Oh Harry.” Charlie twisted his fist, stroking Harry’s prick as he drew out his fingers, tracing around his hole with two fingers now. “More this time, two fingers.”
The penetration sent a twinge through him, it lowered to pressure building in him just a little. Charlie thrust shallowly, letting him relax, loosen. “Open up for me Harry.” He scissored his fingers. “You’re so tight Harry, so very warm. Let me in, it’ll feel so very good.” The thrusts slowly grew in depth, the tight grip of his fist twisting over his cock helped Harry relax his muscles.
“Do you remember the prostate Harry?” The soft thrust switched into a rough push, driving his fingers deep. “If I curl my fingers just so, I should be able to…”
“Oh god!” It was too much, Harry felt himself pulse, spunk coating Charlie’s hand and streaking across the bottom of his stomach.
“Harry.” Charlie’s voice was a purr, his fingers stilling inside, but not withdrawing. “I’m not going to stop, not unless you tell me to.”
Harry felt wanton, “Don’t stop.” He twisted, brushing a kiss against Charlie’s jaw.
“On your back, I want you on your back.”
His fingers withdrew slowly, Harry’s hole clenching down as they slipped from him. His movements were rough, restrained but hasty as he pushed Harry from his lap. As Harry lounged back against the bed, he grabbed his hips, pulling them up onto his lap.
“We need to loosen you up further.” Two fingers pressed back in, twisted and scissoring. “You feel incredible Harry. I’m going to add another finger now.” He drew back, his fingers spread, holding Harry open as he slipped in a third, the increased stretch making Harry shiver. “So good.” He thrust forward, curling his fingers to pass over Harry’s prostate making his prick jump.
“Charlie!” It was too much too soon, but at the same time he didn’t want him to stop.
“Too much?” Charlie continued to thrust, his fingers steering clear of Harry’s prostate. “I think you’re ready now Harry. What do you say, can I put my cock in you?”
Harry fumbled for Charlie’s hand, twisting their fingers together as he continued to thrust his finger. “Yes.”
Charlie slipped his fingers free, hand dragging his zipped down, jeans smeared with liquid. He groaned as he freed his cock, stroking himself as he stared down at Harry.
“Charlie.” It felt unfair that he couldn’t see, that all he had was the faint blur.
“Condoms.” Harry curled as Charlie bent forward, yanking the drawer open and pulling out a small foil square. “Wonderful things muggles, much easier to manage than damn spells.” He tore the packet open with his teeth, sitting back to roll the rubber over his prick. “Relax for me Harry.” He pressed the head of his cock to Harry’s opening, resting. “Breath, it’ll make it easier.” He pressed in, stopping as the head slipped past the ring of muscle. “Merlin! So tight.”
Harry squirmed, a low burn creeping up his spine. Charlie flexed his hips, pushing further forward, pressing further into Harry, his prick rubbing over Harry’s prostate and marking him yelp.
“You feel incredible.” His hips rolled, the metal of his zipper biting into Harry’s cheeks. “I’m going to move now, I’m going to fuck your tight little arse.” He moved with shallow thrusts, hips rolling at the end of each inward stroke. “You’re so hot.” His thrusts grew stronger, cock sliding out further with each pass, lengthening the push. His cock brushed over Harry’s prostate. “I can feel you pulse, each tight shiver. Are you getting hard Harry?”
Harry moaned as Charlie traced a finger up his cock, encouraging the growing hardness. “How does it feel Harry?”
“Big, full. Feels… like too much, but good, I-” He bucked his hips, moving with Charlie’s steady thrusting, “I want more.”
Charlie bent forward, hand stripping Harry’s cock as he framed Harry’s face, drawing him into a wet messy kiss. Hips stuttering in and out of rhythm. “I’m close, you’ve done this to me Harry, squeezing me, grasping my cock so very tightly.” His movements strengthened, hips driving forward, barely pulling out, trying to force his way deeper. “Harry, Harry, oh Harry.”
Charlie bit his lip as he groaned out Harry’s name, hips faltering, falling out of rhythm. Harry moaned as he pulsed, Charlie twitching inside him, his own prick growing harder, Charlie’s release pushing him closer. “I need… Charlie, I need more.”
“So good, so very lovely.” Charlie’s hand tightened, moving with quick sharp jerks, hips humping forward to keep him inside. “Are you close Harry? Can you feel it coming? I want to see you come again, I want to feel you squeeze down around me. It’s going to hurt, but it’s going to feel so damn good.
“Come on Harry.” He thumbed a nipple making Harry’s back arch. “Come on.” His softening prick bumped against Harry’s prostate with every other thrust. “Please Harry, let me see you.
“Please.” Harry’s head tipped back, grinding his prick up into Charlie as it spurted weakly, his voice gone as Charlie begged him to come, pleasure on the very edge of pain.
He flopped back on the sheets, sweaty and flushed, sinking into them with a hiss as Charlie slowly withdrew, fingers tight around the base of his own cock. The bed dipping as he dropped down beside him. Charlie tugged him close, pulling his head to rest of his chest.
“Good?” Thankfully Charlie has the good sense to be just as breathless as he was.
“Yeah.”
Charlie rested his chin against Harry’s crown. “Not bad for a first lesson.”
Harry didn’t know quite how to reply to that. Instead he let himself quietly ponder exactly what had just happened, and how exactly a request for a sex talk had turned into this. He was sure he’d get it eventually.
End.
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