Fic: To Lose Control

[lady-invidia.livejournal.com]

Title: To Lose Control
Author: lady_invidia
My own prompt:
Kink Showcased: Dogging (Wizarding style)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Harry/OCs
Summary: Harry just wants the chance to lose control.
Content Notes/Warnings: gangbanging, pleasure withholding, dirty talk, felching, exhibitionism, voyeurism
Word Count: 6,590
Author's Notes: Huge thanks to geneva2010 and fcmwt_r_do who betaed at such short notice and were truly amazing. This is my first piece of smut writing, I definitely feel like I jumped in at the deep end :p I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Mods: Can I please have a dogging tag?

Harry takes a deep breath and steps off the Apparition platform. His heart is pounding, his palms sweaty – whether from fear, anxiety or excitement he isn’t sure.

As each step takes him closer to his destination, a lone park bench underneath a weeping willow, its long branches hanging down, offering shade from the moon’s rays and giving the illusion of secrecy, Harry begins to undo the buttons on his nondescript robe.

By the time he reaches the bench his robe is hanging open allowing the cool air to brush along his naked skin. Already he can feel his cock begin to fill with blood and harden at being so blatantly on display – at being in such a vulnerable position.

Raising one leg to place it on top of the backless bench, he leans his head back, creating a deliciously long line from his left ankle still placed on the floor, up to his long arching neck. He can feel the heat of their gazes now, the area pulsing in anticipation.

Harry gulps, trying to wet his dry mouth as he pauses, frozen in tableau. It wasn’t too late to back out; he could Apparate right now back to their apartment and spend the night satiating himself on his lover. Closing his eyes he takes a moment to think about what he’s about to do, allowing strangers to see him, to touch him, to take him, to use him. To take control of him. The accompanying throb of arousal in his lower belly tells him to take the leap. And so he does.

6 months earlier

As the clocks in the Ministry chime midnight, signalling yet another day lost to mindless bureaucracy, Harry gives a heavy sigh. He lets his head thunk onto his desk, the ensuing bang echoing loudly in the empty Auror office as the pile of papers on his desk wobbles threateningly before cascading down to the ground in a flurry of white.

“Fuck.” The sharp swear word fills the empty room so deliciously that Harry can’t resist. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck it!” Sweeping his arm across his desk, Harry knocks off the last few papers that had managed to valiantly cling on.

“Bloody hell, mate, what crawled up your arse and died?” Harry’s head shoots up to take in Ron leaning lazily against the open door frame of his office. “Actually, don’t answer that. I really don’t want to think what might have been up your arse considering who’s waiting at home for you.” Ron pulls a face of such childish disgust that Harry can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes.

“What are you doing here, Ron?”

“What, can’t an Auror come and have a chat with his head of department now?”

“Not at bleeding midnight he can’t… that is unless said Auror plans to pull his boss away for a late night pint?” Harry had circled the desk now and was leaning back on it, a look of hope on his face.

“Sorry, mate, wouldn’t dare even if I could. If that bloody git of yours thought I’d kept you from him for any other reason than work I don’t think my life would be worth living. Certainly wouldn’t be able to make any more bastards with the missus.”

“Does Hermione know you’re calling your kids bastards now?” Harry raises an eyebrow in amused query.

“Hell, man, it was her idea.” Ron replies, grinning cheekily back at him.

Harry allows himself a brief moment to smile and bask in his best friend’s presence before he dons the mantle of Head Auror. Reaching out for his red robes, lined with gold thread at the hem and cuffs to signify his status, he quickly pulls them on. Instantly his back becomes straighter, his chin rises and his face takes on a serene but commanding look. His scar may have faded away allowing his “Boy Who Lived” persona to fade with it, but it had soon been replaced by the robes of office that sometimes weighed even heavier on his shoulders.

“Well, Auror Weasley, what’s the situation?” Without looking behind him he begins to stride towards the Ministry’s Apparition point, knowing that Ron will follow. After all, he was the Head Auror, in control at all times.

*****

“So, let me get this straight, Auror Bells. You were Disapparating from Hogsmeade, and you were planning to stop at the Rawcliffe Bar Apparition point to recuperate before carrying on down to the Ministry?”

“Yes, sir, Rosmerta had already gone to bed, see, so I couldn’t use her Floo and, well, I’ve never been that strong on Apparition, sir…” Bells trails off in embarrassment.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Bells, Apparition confounds even the best of us at times.” Harry smiles soothingly even while his mind fills with images of Hermione and himself Apparating over large distances, with barely any effort, while they were no more than children.

The false empathy seems to work though as Bells gains more confidence in his tale.

“I tried to Apparate there, sir, but that’s the thing. I didn’t. I ended up on the A19 instead – and thank Merlin it was late at night, sir, or I say this now, I’d have been as flat as my wife’s bread, sir.” He chuckles humorlessly.

“And you didn’t just get the coordinates wrong, Bells?”

“No sir, I’ve never had any problem with that, sir. Not any of the three D’s. It’s the, it’s the lack of power, sir.” Bells looks away briefly before continuing, “It was the Muggle-repelling charm, sir. It had been tampered with. Made stronger, strong enough to reroute an Apparating wizard, sir…” Bells leaves the implications behind such tampering unsaid. Such activity was not only illegal, but it also suggested something clandestine. Harry feels excitement run through him at the prospect of something – anything – other than paperwork.

“Bells, go home. Report back to the office tomorrow morning at nine sharp.”

“Yes, sir.” The crack of his Disapparition signals his departure as Harry turns to Ron. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the familiar shimmering material that had allowed them to get up to such mischief in their youth.

“Fancy a bit of reconnaissance, just like old times?” Harry gives Ron a shark-like grin, before throwing the cloak over the two of them.

*****

Ever since the invention of Apparition, various midway Apparition points were established across the magical world, for the benefit of those who struggled with long distance travel. Occasionally, around the most well frequented points, small villages sprang up, with shops selling energy boosting foods and potions, B&B’s for the exceptionally weary, and even ‘Apparition souvenirs’ for those travelling for the first time. But most Apparition points were simple places, normally outdoors, with a few benches or such for the fatigued wizard or witch to rest a while before they again embarked upon their magically tiring journey. Due to the various spells, charms and wards that were placed on the areas, they also made excellent meeting points for the somewhat shadier members of Wizarding Society. After all, why bother starting from scratch in finding a place and warding it when you could simply adjust what was already on your doorstep?

And so, when Harry and Ron manage to sneak past the adapted charm and enter the clearing, they were prepared for all sorts of nefarious goings on – except perhaps the ones currently going on in front of them. Harry stood, under the cover of his invisibility cloak, utterly enthralled. His dick became heavy and swollen in his trousers, causing him to shift uncomfortably.

“I… well…” Ron was lost for words as he stood frozen to the spot. In another situation Harry would have found it amusing, his usually verbose friend actually being silenced for once, but right now Harry was too busy trying to resist reaching down to roughly palm his straining erection through the fabric of his trousers.

“Maybe, maybe we should wait till tomorrow to deal with this. Yeah, Harry?” Ron whispers, his eyes never quite leaving the sight before him even as he turns his head to the side as if to look away. “It’s not like they’re doing any harm right now, yeah? I mean it’s not like they’re doing a ritual to raise him is it?” Ron pauses, “Oh Merlin, it’s not a sex ritual to raise him is it?!” Ron whines.

“No, Ron, calm down. Sex magic’s just a Muggle myth.” Ron mutters an affirmative under his breath. “You can go home now, Ron, I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ron doesn’t wait for further instruction before Disapparating, his face flaming red from embarrassment, leaving Harry alone with his temptations.

Harry finally closes his eyes to the scene before him. But it’s too late, the image is already burned into his retina of a pale young man, his skin glistening with sweat, moving up and down on the lap of a broad, dark skinned man, in an ever increasing pace, causing his leaking cock to slap up against his stomach. The tendons on the young man’s neck are taught with strain as he tries to reach completion from the other man’s cock while he strokes the cocks of two men, one stood either side of him, with a tight and sure grip.

To the far left, two other men are holding and touching each other with gentle strokes, while they watch the show unfolding in front of them, a look of pure hunger in their eyes.

But it is the look on the younger man’s face that is truly seared into Harry’s mind, the look of absolute, blissful freedom; as if for that moment he had shaken off the restraints society places on all of us, until there was only the visceral realness of now.

A particularly obscene groan causes Harry to open his eyes and step towards the pile of writhing bodies before he realises what he’s doing and stops guiltily.

Harry has never felt such a strong surge of arousal before; he has also never felt so ashamed. As another moan rips through the air he quickly Apparates back to the office to work out his frustration on his scattered paperwork rather than go home and work it out on his lover while the image of the young man's expression, still burns brightly in his mind.

*****

The next day Harry is jolted awake from drooling on his desk by a loud and vicious Howler. Apparently not bothering to come home at all, and not even sending an owl to explain why, was frowned upon in relationships – a fact which Harry is very much reminded of after being subjected to thirty minutes of the most vitriolic speech on the subject.

This is followed by a disastrous meeting with the Minister about why the Auror department’s budgets were late. Harry doesn’t think Kingsley would appreciate the truth – ‘I was too busy viciously wanking off to images of multiple strange men fucking me followed by hours of guilt.’

By the time the clocks chime five o’clock, signalling the end of the working week, Harry is already half way out the door ready to go home and sleep all weekend in his partner’s arms, letting his scent and touch finally erase the thoughts that continue to hound his mind.

“Harry, wait up!” Ron runs up behind him, huffing and panting. “Me and some of the lads are off down to the pub. Fancy coming for a quick one?”

“I don’t know Ron… I’m already in the dog house and I’m a bit tired from all the reports…”

“Please, Harry. Everyone knows the git’s Quidditch practice doesn’t finish till late on Fridays. God knows you complain enough about it. And it’s only the one drink. Come on Harry,” Ron wheedles, “Don’t be such an old man.”

Harry throws his arms up in the air in defeat. “Fine. But no drawing on my face this time when I fall asleep!”

Ron just grins in reply.

*****

Harry scowls into his Firewhisky as, one hour in, they’re all still talking about what he and Ron investigated last night and what they should do about it.

“Leave them to it I say, might even scare off the wannabe terrorists from using the sites” John adds while chuckling. “Can you imagine their faces when they walk into that!”

“I don’t think we can though, ignore it I mean. It’s against public decency. What if a parent took their kids that way while it was going on? It’s just not right.” Lucy shakes her head in disgust.

“Yeah, cause a kid passing through such an unused Apparition point that late at night is so likely.” John rolls his eyes.

“Well even if it isn’t likely, it’s still against the law and its vandalism adjusting the wards and charms like they did, not to mention dangerous. Didn’t you say you could have gotten knocked down Bells?”

“Well, uh.” Bells stutters, looking like a rabbit caught in headlights.

“But when Bells and I went to check out the area this morning it had all been put back to rights. No harm no foul I say. Plus, can you imagine all the paperwork involved should we look into it…” John leaves the sentence open for the other Aurors to come to their own scary conclusions.

“I don’t know why they can’t just do it in the comfort of their own home,” Ron cuts in, his arms gesticulating wildly as if they would help explain his point. “Or, you know, their backyard if they’re that desperate to have sex outside.”

“You don’t understand,” George, who has previously been quiet all evening interrupts, “dogging isn’t about having sex with someone you know outside. It’s about the exhibitionism involved, putting on a show for strangers, and maybe letting them get involved and having sex with them.”

“It’s called dogging is it? Well, George, I didn’t know you had it in you…” John teases as the Aurors start laughing, causing a blush to bloom across George’s cheeks.

“I don’t actually do IT!”

“Sure you don’t Georgie!”

“I don’t! There was an article about it in the Sport, okay, about some bird having had sex with 400 strangers or something like that…”

The other Aurors look at him blankly.

“The sport? It’s a Muggle newspaper?” The blank looks remained. “Don’t any of you pay attention to what’s happening in the Muggle world? Not even you Lucy, I thought you still lived with your parents in Muggle London?”

Lucy looks at him in bemusement “I hardly think you can call whatever this is…” (“Dogging” he tries to add) “…an important going on in the Muggle world.”

“Fine, whatever. Still leaves us with the decision as to what to do. I mean we have to do something, don’t we?” Ron says, looking at Harry to make the call.

“I’ll do it, I mean, I’ll look into it. Just, just leave it with me,” Harry finds himself saying before he’s truly thought it through.

Then, making a show at looking at his watch, he says his goodbyes and quickly goes outside to take a few deep breaths. From the looks on their faces throughout the night, Harry could tell most of them had found the situation disgusting – the concept of people purposefully going to these sites to engage in sex with strangers.

Harry hadn’t found it disgusting though, far from it. He clutches his hair in his hands, pulling on it as if it would prevent such thoughts from filling his mind. He should go home, go to bed and wait for his partner to return. For once though, Harry doesn’t want to do what he should. And so, with a crack, Harry was gone.

*****

Seconds later Harry arrives at the site to find no one there. Surely that was a sign he should go home now, before it was too late? Instead he walks over to a tree and sits down at the base before pulling out his invisibility cloak and throwing it over his crouched form. For an hour he sits there waiting, almost hoping no one comes. And then, at half past eleven, a series of loud cracks signal the beginning of Harry’s late night show. And oh Merlin, what a show it was. As a bolt of pleasure shoots through his stomach Harry pushes all other thoughts to the far recesses of his mind. For the next few hours there’s only the here and now, and damn if that wasn’t addictive.

*****

The next week passes in a blissful daze for Harry. During the day Harry formulates various plans of action to deal with the current situation that he knows will fail. During the night he visits the various dogging sites he has uncovered in his investigations, allowing himself to get lost in a world so very different to the one he currently inhabits. He knows it can’t last, his partner can always tell when Harry’s hiding something. It’s one of the reasons they’re so good together – Harry can’t hide all of his worries like he can with everyone else. One day, and one day soon, he knows he’ll have to confess, to come clean. But until then, until then he will indulge in watching.

*****

Friday night Harry’s secret comes crashing down around him. He spends the evening drinking with Ron and some of the lads: laughing, joking – pretending everything is okay. Then, when the clock strikes nine o’clock, he makes his excuses and Apparates to the site that haunts his dreams. He stands there for two hours, waiting, watching. He doesn’t touch himself; he’s yet to do so in all of the times he’s visited. It feels too close to cheating. But, oh Merlin, does he want to. By midnight the area is deserted but Harry still hangs around for a few more minutes, breathing in deeply and waiting for his erection to wilt before heading home.

He doesn’t bother with putting the lights on, but merely starts stripping out of his clothes as soon as he enters the house, tearing off the armour that weighs him down so much. Padding into the kitchen in only his underpants, he opens the fridge and gasps as the light illuminates his partner sitting at the kitchen table, alone in the dark.

“What are you doing here; you’re supposed to be…” Harry falters in his speech as he notices his lover’s fists clenching.

“Harry. Are you cheating on me?”

It feels like a punch to the stomach.

“No, no. Of course not. Why would you think that, darling? You know I love you.” Harry’s whole body sways towards his lover, but his voice rings untrue even to his own ears.

“Oh, I don’t know, Harry,” the bitter words flowed forth. “Maybe the fact that you came home after midnight, again? Maybe because you’ve been distant for weeks now? Maybe because every night you’ve been sneaking out to Merlin knows where!” He’s practically screaming, furious spittle flying out of his mouth.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. I was with Ron tonight, and I’ve just been busy with that case lately, you know how it is when I have to do investigative work, the late hours I have to put in…”

“You’re lying. Tell me the truth, Harry.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why did Ron Floo here at half nine to say you’d left your wallet at the pub? Where the fuck were you, Harry, between then and now? Or should I ask who the hell you’ve been fucking, cause it sure hasn’t been me recently!” Harry can’t stop the wince at that.

“I swear, I haven’t done anything, I swear to you! I haven’t. I haven’t.” Harry’s back hits the fridge as he slowly slides down to the floor, still muttering denials.

His lover kneels in front of him, gripping his shoulders.

“Then tell me what is going on, Harry. Please, I love you. I just want to know. You owe me that at least.” The manipulation was blatant, but Harry can’t deny the truth of it.

And so he tells him, everything. He begins with the night he was working late, the night that Ron came to him about a possible incident at the Rawcliffe Bar Apparition point. He explains what they found. How he’d volunteered to look into the matter. More importantly, he explains what it made him feel. How it had built and grown till it was an all-consuming need. How he’s had to return again and again. But that he’s never joined in. He’s never so much as touched himself, even though at times he’s physically ached with the need to do so. Tears run down his cheeks as he finally confesses to the urges that have taken over his mind. Finally he looks up into his partner’s eyes that have stayed silent and still throughout his confession, still gripping his shoulders.

“Why?” his lover’s question cuts through the silence.

“I don’t truly know, I…” Harry stutters, embarrassed to be admitting to something he knows most would find disgusting, but more than anything, ashamed he hasn’t tried to tell his lover sooner.

“Well is it me? Am I not enough for you now? What do you want? I’m trying to understand here Harry…”

“No! I love you. I just, I don’t know,” Harry looks down at his hands, picking at the skin at the side of his fingernails, before taking a deep breath. “I know it’s not just being fucked by other people or even by lots of people. It’s not even being owned, although that’s a part of it. It’s just; I keep picturing the look on this young man’s face. He was in such a vulnerable position, naked in front of all these men, allowing them to use him as they wanted – to get off on watching it. But the look on his face, it looked so wild and free, like he hadn’t any worries at all. I just, I...”

“It’s about you losing control isn’t it? About you not knowing who’s watching, who might join in? About you not having to make all the decisions?”

Harry lets the realisation of what he’s feeling sink in as he looks up into his partner’s eyes. His lover has always known him better then he knows himself.

“I’ll” Harry gulps “I’ll understand if you can’t accept this, Merlin knows I could never choose this over you. And if you say so, I’ll try and forget, try and move on. But I don’t know how long I’ll last before the pressure gets too much for me and I lose it. Because I will, no, I am losing it. I just can’t…”

“Don’t you dare blackmail me into this Harry!” The retaliating whisper comes as a whip to Harry after his lover’s previous gentleness, forcing his head physically back as his wide eyes search his lover’s face beseechingly.

“I don’t mean to…”

“No, you never do. I, I need to think about this.”

And then his partner stands up and walks out leaving a shattered husk in his wake with only one thought circling like carrion birds – what the hell has he done.

*****

Its late Sunday night when Harry feels the bed dip as his partner gets in. Nothing is said but the hand that falls on his arm as they both fall asleep eases some of the worry clouding Harry’s mind.

*****

By Monday everything has returned to normal – on the surface at least. Harry goes into work. He spends the day filling out paperwork and reprimanding an Auror who ran out on his partner.

When he comes home that night, his dinner, a kiss and a smile await him. It’s as if Friday night never happened. He spends the evening wishing it was enough.

*****

Two more months pass. Harry manages not to visit any of the sites he knows about; he has yet to figure out how to not dream about them.

*****

And then one Friday night when he should have the house to himself, he’s greeted by his lover sitting upright at the kitchen table, a mirror image to the night he had finally confronted Harry. In front of him are various maps and a few books. He doesn’t look at Harry as he starts to speak.

“I thought if we were going to go ahead with this… with this thing, that we might as well approach it in an organised and carefully planned way. I refuse to be a Gryffindor about this.” Harry can hear condescension in his tone as he says the word Gryffindor, even after all these years. “I’ve managed to obtain, through an associate, some locations of the most popular sites and I’ve also bought some books of useful spells we might need to ensure nothing too unsavoury results from your actions.” He pauses and finally locks eyes with Harry. “From our actions.”

Harry closes his eyes, unable to look any longer upon this brilliant, brilliant man. A smile touches his lips as the weight on his shoulders is lifted ever so slightly.

*****

It takes his lover ages to choose the right Apparition point, hours of research into which ones had enough of a reputation for it to ensure there would be enough people there that night, but not prolific enough that it would result in too many people being present, or worse – the Aurors being Flooed.

Even deciding on the charms and spells they will use takes a long time; which lubrication charm would last long enough, whether they should cast a stretching spell on Harry first, what STI charms they might need, whether to use a charm to obscure his identity, and, his lover’s favourite, what type of cock ring spell they should use on Harry so whatever these strangers did, Harry wouldn’t be able to come. As his lover tells Harry one night as he slips out of Harry’s arse before drawing his fingers through the cooling come on Harry’s belly and then pressing his fingers into his mouth, suckling Harry’s essence as if it was a fine vintage, they can fuck Harry, use Harry, control Harry, but only he was allowed to have Harry.

*****

Finally the night arrives; the night Harry has spent six months longing for.

Harry feels the appreciative gazes of people on his figure as he stands with one leg on the bench, their eyes caressing him – owning him.

He reaches for the sides of his robe and in one dramatic sweep, pulls it off his shoulders and allows it to slide sinuously down his arms and back to pool on the floor at his feet. His eager audience were here for a show, and Harry plans on giving them one. In case that wasn’t enough to signify his consent for them to touch as well as look, Harry takes one step backwards over the robe and bends his whole body in half, keeping his legs straight and causing his bum to become even tighter as all of his muscles become stretched. He then picks up the discarded robe before placing it gently on the backless bench.

Then, with no more preambles, Harry kneels on the bench, his legs spread wide, naturally pulling his bum cheeks apart and allowing his tight hole to be on display, while his head hangs over the side, at the perfect height to bend down and suck someone’s cock while being fucked at the same time.

Harry isn’t vain by any stretch of the imagination, but he knows what an enticing sight he’s now displaying and he doesn’t have to wait long before he can feel the rough hand of a stranger resting on his arse, so very different from the smooth hands of his lover that it causes him to jolt at the unfamiliarity of it. But the hand just stays there, not moving, until Harry gives a quick nod of acceptance.

The man then walks slowly around the bench to Harry’s head. The thrum of anticipation is almost tangible now as the man places his forefinger and thumb in Harry’s mouth and then spreads them, causing Harry to make a small ‘o’. Stepping closer towards him, Harry has the chance to see his long, thin cock that curves ever so slightly to the right, before he closes his eyes. Harry doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know who’s going to use him.

Then, without warning, the man pushes his cock into Harry’s mouth that’s still being held open by his finger and thumb. Harry groans in pleasure causing vibrations to run up the stranger’s erection.

“So fucking hot.” The man’s breathy voice is higher than Harry expected.

Soon the man has a slow rhythm going, sliding in with two shallow thrusts, pausing, and then shoving it all the way in so his balls are brushing Harry’s chin causing him to choke slightly on his cock, before he pulls it out and begins the cycle again.

Suddenly Harry can hear the tell-tale cracks of more people Apparating into the clearing, causing his whole body to shiver in delight at the possibility that anyone could now be looking at him pleasure this stranger.

Harry doesn’t know how long passes, lost in the moment, before another man’s hands are gripping his hips and a blunt object hits his perineum before sliding further down to hit the rim of his hole.

Harry doesn’t know whether this man likes lazy sex on Sunday mornings, or whether scraping his teeth across his nipples will cause his eyes to roll back into his head like it does with his lover. Harry can tell he’s thicker than his partner, thicker than what he’s stretched for. But before he can do anything the man thrusts into him, bottoming out in one sharp thrust that causes Harry to tighten his mouth in slight pain and the man currently in his mouth to groan in pleasure, echoing the man behind him. The pain soon passes though, leaving behind a pleasant throb as the man begins to pump into him.

“I’m gonna, oh, oh…” Harry hears the man at his head say. Harry sucks harder on the cock before using his tongue to stroke along the prominent vein. This tips him over and the man with the high voice quickly pulls out of his mouth and comes all over his face, the come dripping down his cheeks, some of it landing in his open mouth leaving a bitter taste behind. Before he can even take in what’s just happened though, another man takes his place.

Harry can tell as the man thrusts into his mouth that this one’s cock is shorter but thicker than the one he’s just been sucking, giving an almost uncomfortable stretch to his lips. Harry’s forgotten erection throbs again as pre cum leaks out of the tip. Harry has no clue what’s happening behind him, how many men have gathered around, how many men are going to fuck him, to get him to suck them. He has no control what so ever and Merlin, he loves it.

The man behind him starts to thrust faster now, having lost his rhythm as he gets closer and closer to climax, each thrust now hitting Harry’s prostrate to the point where he’s groaning in pain around the cock in his mouth from the sheer intensity of it. Then the man explodes in him, filling him with warmth and wetness. As he slides out, Harry can feel the man’s come start to drip down the back of his thighs causing him to moan wantonly.

“Fuck, he’s a randy one.” Harry has no idea who says it but it’s followed by a round of chuckling.

“Tight too.”

“Such a good whore.”

“Such a pretty whore.”

Then suddenly Harry can feel another pair of hands, but lower this time, holding onto his arse cheeks. The stranger pulls them apart and Harry feels him breathing on his leaking hole before a tongue starts to delicately lick around its puckered edge. It’s too much; it’s not enough. If only he could come. But he can’t and his whole body is alive, his nerve endings enraptured in decadence.

Suddenly the man places his mouth fully around Harry’s arsehole and sucks. Oh god, Harry’s whole mind goes blank for a few seconds so that he is barely aware of the man at his head saying he’s about to come before the cock in his mouth pulses and his mouth is filled with the man’s bitter come. The now spent stranger is quickly replaced by another man who makes use of Harry’s gasping mouth to push straight in.

Harry can hear the tell-tale slapping noise of the man behind him wanking himself off as he moves to thrusting his tongue into Harry’s hole, trying to gather as much come from inside him as possible. His come quickly splatters across the back of Harry’s legs and the man soon leaves his post to be replaced with another long cock.

This time the man at his head and the man at his arse manage to get a good rhythm going, one pushing into his arse pushing him onto the dick in front of him before both pull out only to do it again, and again, and again. Harry is starting to feel like a rag doll, being thrown around between them, the hands gripping his head and hips the only things keeping him up. Suddenly the man behind him rolls his hips, brushing against his prostrate and Harry is clenching all over in pleasure, coming dry.

“Fuck that’s hot…” a man whispers to Harry’s left as the men in his mouth and arse come almost simultaneously.

They both pull out as Harry struggles to swallow the load in his mouth and just breathe.

Harry hears the footsteps of two more men approaching him, but before they can even lay a finger on him a confidant voice cuts through the air.

“Enough. He’s mine now.” The voice was rough with lust.

Harry tries to look behind him but before he can strong, smooth hands have grasped his shoulders and are turning him and pushing him down so he’s no longer knelt on the bench but lying flat on it. Before Harry can even protest at this rough treatment and the fact he’s now lying on a pool of come, the man is hovering over him, whispering into his ear.

“Who would have guessed – Harry Potter, The Man Who Lived To Be Fucked Raw By Strangers?”

Harry’s whole body freezes for a second.

“Malfoy…”

“Shut up, slut.” A hand reaches under him to fondle his hard on that’s being pressed painfully into the bench.

“Bet you’d give anything to come, wouldn’t you, Potter? Such a helpless whore.”

Malfoy releases his dick and reaches around to his hole, fingering it with three fingers straight away, already stretched wide from the fuckings he’s just received, and slick with the come and saliva of men he doesn’t even know the names of.

“Your hole is so hungry and wet tonight Potter, but I think I’ve got just what it needs.”

Harry can hear the smirk in his voice but before he can protest at being made fun of, Malfoy begins to feed his cock into his hole excruciatingly slowly, leaving Harry to thrash around on the bench in vain, trying to get it in him quicker. But the position Malfoy has him in means he can’t get enough purchase in order to push back against the cock slowly spreading him open. Malfoy finally bottoms out and Harry opens his eyes as his head lies sideways, allowing him to see a circle of men nearby staring at him, lust in their eyes as they wank their hard cocks, waiting for the man on top of him to finish so they can have their turn.

Harry lets out a whimper as a lightning bolt of lust shoots through him at the thought of being so exposed and vulnerable.

The thought is soon lost though as Malfoy begins pumping his dick in and out, rapidly speeding up until Harry thinks he will literally break under the onslaught. The angle means that Malfoy’s thrusts never quite hit his prostrate, merely grazing around it. Harry clenches his teeth in frustration.

“Fucking cock tease,” he grunts as a particularly strong thrust forces him to slide up the bench, causing his discarded robe to rub against his arousal.

“Cock tease am I?” Malfoy then puts his hands on Harrys’ hips and pulls him slightly up so he’s no longer rubbing against the robe.

“No, no, please.” Harry whines against the loss of friction.

But then Malfoy thrusts in again and the new angle allows him to hit Harry’s prostrate straight on.

And then he does it again, and again, and again.

Harry’s balls ache with the need to come, his whole body feels weary from the abuse it has suffered, but his blood sings as the smell of sex envelops him.

“Yes, yes. God, yes. Fuck me harder, harder. Use me, please, oh god.” Harry is delirious now from being kept on the brink of true climax for so long.

“I don’t need your permission to bloody well fuck you darling, after all, everyone here knows now what a slut you are for it.”

This time Harry can’t even argue against the sardonic tone, too busy writhing beneath Malfoy to care.

And then, just as Harry thinks he’ll pass out with the overwhelming need to come, a wand taps against his thigh as Finite Incantatem is whispered breathily in his ear by Malfoy. As soon as the words are said the spell around his dick vanishes and he comes without a single touch. Black spots fill his vision as the sheer strength of the orgasm rips through him in waves, making his toes curl in pleasure and his tight hole clench around the cock still rapidly thrusting in and out of him, causing Malfoy to follow him in climax and add to the come already inside him.

Draco lowers his lips to Harry’s back and kisses his shoulder blade as Harry lies there in a daze, his mind blissfully blank. Seeing that Draco has finished men begin to approach Harry again, as a starving man would approach a banquet. But, before they can get any nearer, Draco wraps his arms fully around Harry and Apparates them away, landing on their king size bed.

“Nifty wand work, Draco.” Harry mumbles.

Draco gives a little smirk at the unintentional double entendre. “Are you okay, was that… was that what you wanted?” He whispers into Harry’s ear as he begins to trail soothing kisses across his neck.

Harry hums sleepily in agreement.

“That was amazing, Draco, love you so much.” He tries to turn around so he can look into Draco’s eyes but he simply doesn’t have the energy.

“Love you too, and I’m glad you enjoyed it. Although never again Harry, it’s a one off deal. You’re mine. All mine,” Draco continues to scatter small kisses across the curve of Harry’s back before reaching back up to the juncture of his neck. “All mine,” he growls before sucking on the salty skin there, leaving his mark over the sweat and come of other men.

Harry merely hums again before snuggling into his pillow, he’s sure he can convince Draco to try it again. After all, they have a taste for it now.