It all started when Harry walked in on Seamus and Dean fooling around.
Well, if Harry was being honest with himself, it had probably started long before that, though he wasn't exactly sure when. He wasn't sure when he started noticing the pull of Quidditch leathers across muscular thighs. He couldn't quite pin down when his eyes started tracing the firm planes of flat chests. He didn't exactly know when he started wondering what the sharp edge of a strong jaw would feel like beneath his tongue. Maybe it had even been before the war, but he'd had more important things to worry about, than whether or not he was looking at blokes with more than innocent admiration. Now, though, he couldn't seem to focus on anything else. Without Voldemort to obsess over, and with Ginny happily involved with Luna, Harry didn't seem to have anything holding him back from…noticing.
He'd known, in a sort of abstract way, that Seamus and Dean got off together sometimes. It was hard not to be aware of that sort of thing when you'd shared a dormitory for so long. Harry had never really thought about it, though. It was just a thing that they did, and it'd never seemed like any of Harry's business; what his friends did behind closed doors was none of his concern. In retrospect, it was actually more surprising that Harry hadn't stumbled across them sooner, living in such close quarters as they all did.
They were sitting half-naked on Dean's bed, when Harry walked in, with Dean leaning back against the wall and Seamus straddling his lap. Dean's hands looked huge as they kneaded Seamus's jeans-clad arse and pulled him down in a filthy, seductive grind. The room felt hot, the air thick with the heat of open mouth kisses and panting breaths. With a shock, Harry realized the heavy breathing seemed to be coming from him, but Dean and Seamus didn't appear to have noticed. Probably because one of Seamus's hands had disappeared into Dean's trousers, his wrist moving in an unmistakable rhythm.
Harry felt a little dizzy, shocked still by the overwhelming tide of lust washing over him as he watched Dean and Seamus move together. He'd always known they were attractive, sure, but seeing them like this...Harry wanted. Wanted to be kissed with that intensity, wanted to feel rough hands drag across his back, wanted to experience the heavy weight of somebody else's cock in his hand.
He let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan, and this time Dean and Seamus did hear him. Harry flushed bright red as they turned their lust-fogged eyes to him, not even the slightest bit embarrassed at being caught. He stammered something that he hoped was some kind of apology and made a speedy retreat. Unfortunately, it was rather difficult to move quickly with his erection rubbing painfully against his jeans, so his exit wasn't quite as graceful as he'd been hoping for. He just prayed they hadn't noticed his uncomfortable gait and realized what it meant.
The biggest problem though, was that Dean and Seamus were his mates. He'd never really been attracted to them before and he wasn't really sure what he was feeling now, or what this new obsession of his meant. Did he have feelings for them? Was it just lust? Would he be feeling like this if he'd walked in on two different guys? Harry wasn't sure. He didn't think he felt more for either of them than friendship with a healthy dose of simple attraction, but his uncertainty made him act awkward and distant.
It only took a few days of stammering and avoidance before Seamus finally cornered him. The rest of the dorm was out playing a pick-up game of Quidditch, which Harry had specifically begged off, because he'd figured Seamus and Dean would be there. Apparently Seamus had caught onto his plan and decided it would be the perfect time to confront him.
"Mate, I think we need to talk."
Harry's shoulders slumped and he nodded as he took a seat next to Seamus on his bed.
"You've been off ever since you walked in on Dean and me."
"Yeah," Harry whispered after a beat.
"Dean thinks that maybe it's because we're two blokes. That you have some kind of problem with it."
Harry's eyes widened in alarm and he opened his mouth, not sure what exactly he'd planned to say, but wanting to make sure Seamus knew that wasn't true.
Seamus smiled wide and raised his hand, preemptively cutting Harry off. "But I don't think that's it. See, Dean was a bit preoccupied when you interrupted, what with my hand on his prick and all, and I don't think he really noticed your difficulty walking out of here."
Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face, heating his skin as he stared at his hands clenched tightly in his lap.
"Hey," Seamus said, voice surprisingly gentle. "It's okay, you know. It's not a big deal if you like blokes too. You can talk to me, if you want."
Hesitantly, Harry looked up at Seamus, and the sincerity in his eyes put Harry at ease. "Uh, yeah. I, erm, think I might? Maybe? Well. I've never – that was – I think about...blokes...I just haven't ever done anything. I hadn't really seen anything either until I walked in on you guys."
"Really?" Seamus asked, eyes wide. "But you're Harry Potter!" Harry scowled, and Seamus raised his hands. "No, no, I don't mean it like that. I just mean, you're right fit, you know. Loads of blokes would love to get in your trousers. Unless...are you waiting for something serious?" Seamus almost looked like he was in pain as he said that last part, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Well, eventually, yeah. But honestly right now I don't think I could handle anything serious. But I'd need somebody I can trust. I can't just fool around with anybody, if I don't want it to end up splashed all over the Daily Prophet."
Seamus looked at him thoughtfully. "Well...you could always try it with me?"
"And Dean too, if you wanted. You know we wouldn't sell you out, and we've been getting off together long enough, we could make it good for you."
Harry's jaw dropped as every one of his fantasies from the past few days flashed through his head in vivid technicolor.
"Plus, we're pretty fit too, if I do say so myself," Seamus continued on. He was still grinning, but it was no longer his regular, good-natured grin. This grin was wicked, promising all kinds of dirty things, and Harry couldn't stop a whimper before it escaped from his throat.
"Why don't we start with kissing?" Seamus suggested.
Harry nodded a bit numbly, and then Seamus was there, his lips pressing softly against Harry's. Seamus's mouth was warm and full against his own. Rough hands cradled his face before sliding through his hair and cupping his jaw. He gasped as Seamus's fingers caught in his messy strands, and Seamus's tongue slipped easily into his mouth.
He moaned. Harry hadn't ever been kissed like this before, hadn't known it could feel like this, hot and hard and consuming. His cock was already rock hard, just from kissing, and the seam of his jeans pressed uncomfortably against him. He wriggled, trying to relieve the pressure, and felt Seamus smile into the kiss.
"Me too, mate," Seamus whispered. A flash of movement in Seamus's lap caught Harry's eye and he looked down. Seamus was kneading himself through his jeans, hand moving and squeezing rhythmically. "Want to see?"
Harry blushed and bit his lip hesitantly.
"Just watch, yeah? I need to get off before I explode!" Seamus laughed, winking at Harry before undoing his flies and pulling his cock out, immediately starting to wank himself.
Harry was riveted. Seamus's cock was a bit thinner than Harry's and maybe just a hair shorter. It was a perfectly nice cock, as far as Harry could tell – not that he had much experience with that sort of thing – and Seamus didn't seem the least bit self conscious about it. In fact, he seemed to be relishing the attention, rolling his hips into his tight fist, moaning unabashedly as he smiled lustily at Harry. It looked like there was nothing he'd rather be doing than wanking off in front of Harry, and it was really fucking hot.
Somehow, during Seamus's little show, Harry's hands had made their way to his own jeans. He was a little surprised to realize that he'd already managed to unbutton them, and that all that was left between his cock and the warm dorm-room air was his threadbare cotton pants.
"Go on, Harry. Touch yourself," Seamus encouraged, licking his lips. His cock was a bruised red and his fist practically a blur as he worked himself over.
Harry almost felt like crying with relief when he finally wrapped a hand around his prick. He'd never needed to come so badly in his entire life, and he knew it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. Too impatient to draw it out, he quickly fell into the fast twisting motions that never failed to set him off. His eyes kept flicking between Seamus's cock and his face, not wanting to miss the moment when Seamus finally came.
"Fuck, Harry!" Seamus half yelled, half laughed as come erupted from his cock. And erupted really was the right word, because it went everywhere. He'd caught the majority in his hand, but Harry supposed he didn't quite get there in time, because there were white splashes all over his shirt. More pressing though, was the bit on Harry's lower cheek, dripping thickly towards his mouth.
Seamus looked rueful, opening his mouth as if to apologize, but Harry just moaned, hand flying over his cock as his tongue flicked out to taste Seamus's release. Just that burst of salty, bitter fluid had Harry coming, shuddering in pleasure and closing his eyes as his orgasm overtook him.
When he opened his eyes a few moments later, Seamus was staring at him with dark eyes. He looked different, his posture more predatory as he leaned towards Harry.
"So you like the taste of come?"
Harry flushed, but he didn't want to pretend that he hadn't. He didn't want to lie anymore, and something about Seamus coming on him made his insides twist in pleasure.
Harry wasn't sure what it meant, but he was pretty sure Seamus would help him figure it out.
Luckily his fears were unfounded, as Dean appeared to have absolutely no problem with Seamus and Harry experimenting together, especially when he got to join in on the fun. Harry was relieved, not only because they were his friends and he didn't want to fuck things up, but because Dean was bloody fit. The first time Dean wrapped one of those big hands around Harry's prick, he came in less than thirty seconds, it felt so good.
It didn't take long before hand jobs progressed to blow jobs, and it took even less time for Harry to realize how much he really liked giving head. He liked it best on his knees, mouth open wide, as rough fingers slid through his hair and guided his head down. It felt so dirty and submissive, kneeling before one of the guys and sucking them off, working his throat until his jaw ached and his mouth flooded with come.
That was the picture Neville saw, the first time Seamus decided to bring him in on their experimentation.
Seamus had been talking about Neville for awhile, worried about how he was adjusting after the war. Apparently, after Harry, Neville was the most in need of a little release. Harry and Dean had both given their okay, and it was up to Seamus to talk to him. Harry honestly hadn't expected anything to come of it, but he was beginning to think the more the merrier, and if Seamus could convince him, Harry definitely wouldn't mind. But apparently Seamus's idea of "convincing", was to not actually tell Neville what he was walking into, because he did not seem at all prepared for the sight of Harry on his knees before Dean.
Neville's mouth dropped open at the sight of Harry working his lips over Dean's cock, Dean's hands tugging at his hair. Harry had been at it for several minutes now, arousal thrumming through his veins as he swirled his tongue along the salty tip of Dean's prick. Dean's thighs were beginning to quiver beneath his hands, and Harry could tell he was close.
"Pretty hot, yeah?" Seamus asked, throwing an arm around Neville's shoulder and massaging his own groin with his free hand.
Harry tried turning his head to catch their conversation, but Dean's hands in his hair tightened, forcing him to keep his focus. He looked up at Dean through slightly damp lashes and took Dean in as far as he would go before sucking hard. Dean shuddered, swearing softly as he came, his thick release hitting the back of Harry's throat.
"Harry gives the best blow jobs, you should try him," Dean murmured as Harry pulled off his cock.
"You should have Harry suck you off!" Seamus interjected enthusiastically. "He's only been doing it for a few weeks, but he's a natural." He walked over to Harry and rubbed a thumb over his shiny, reddened lips. "His mouth is just made for cock sucking."
Harry shuddered, cock throbbing with Seamus's praise. He looked over at Neville and noticed that his prick was hardening in his trousers, despite his conflicted expression. From the look of things, Neville was well hung, and Harry's mouth watered. His eyes locked on Neville's.
"He – he doesn't need to do that."
"Of course he doesn't need to – we're not forcing him – he wants to. He loves it, don't you, Harry?"
Harry nodded, eyes never leaving Neville's as he awkwardly crawled over to his feet. "Yeah," he said, voice rough. "I do."
He reached up and grabbed Neville's hand, tugging downwards, until Neville sank to his knees in front of him. Slowly, Harry leaned forward, and when Neville didn't move away, he kissed him. Just a light, sweet kiss, no tongue, something to reassure Neville that this was okay. His hands moved to Neville's waistband and the bulge underneath. Neville pulled away slightly, nodding shakily, and Harry grinned, quickly undoing Neville's flies and pulling out his cock, his eyes fluttering as he took in the strong scent of Neville's arousal.
He gripped the base, stomach clenching with desire when his fingers couldn't fit all the way around. Neville's cock was about average length, but much thicker than Seamus's or Dean's, and precome was already starting to bead at the tip. Harry scooted backwards, and then leaned down until he was practically on all fours to swirl his tongue around the head. Neville tasted almost sweet compared to the other two, and Harry moaned as he started working his mouth down trying to get more of the taste.
Above him, Neville was breathing hard, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Dean lounging casually on his bed, eyes lazily fixed on Neville and Harry. He could hear Seamus shuffling around close behind him, and then there were hands on his waist, slipping around and undoing his flies. Harry wriggled in anticipation of Seamus quick, clever fingers wanking him off.
"Put your hands on his head, Neville," Dean instructed.
"Yeah, he likes it when you pull his hair a bit," Seamus added, as he slid Harry's jeans and pants off his bum, exposing his bare arse and leaving his erection trapped in the fabric. Harry shivered.
Neville seemed to take them at their word, perhaps finally realizing that Harry wasn't doing anything he didn't want to be, because strong hands wound confidently through his hair a moment later, gripping the strands lightly. Harry groaned his approval, bobbing his head with even more enthusiasm. He was so loud in his eagerness that he must have missed the sound of the lube being opened because a moment later, a slick finger was running its way teasingly down the cleft of Harry's arse.
Harry gasped and clenched down instinctively at the feeling. They hadn't done anything like that before, but Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it – hadn't dreamed about being opened on slick fingers, hadn't fantasized about being fucked. With his dry hand, Seamus rubbed soothing circles against the small of Harry's back, trying to get him to relax as his finger moved tantalizingly against his rim.
Neville moaned and Harry's attention was drawn back to the cock still in his mouth. His jaw, which had already been a bit achy from sucking Dean earlier, was starting to throb. Neville was just so bloody thick, forcing Harry to open wide as he took Neville into his mouth. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer, which meant he didn't have much longer to make Neville come.
He started using every trick he'd learned from Seamus and Dean in the past few weeks, flicking his tongue along the sensitive underside, sucking hard at the tip, pushing himself down until Neville was pressing against his throat and swallowing around him.
Seamus used his distraction to ease an oiled finger into Harry's arse. It felt strange. Not bad, just sort of odd, the in and out motions almost soothing. It wasn't long before he was bucking back against Seamus’s hand before sinking forward onto Neville's cock, weirdly proud of his ability to multi-task. There was more of a burn when Seamus added a second finger, but for some reason that little frisson of pain only ratcheted his arousal higher. Then Seamus curled his fingers, and Harry couldn't stop the whine from escaping his throat, vibrating around Neville's cock as waves of pleasure radiated through his body.
"Feels good, doesn't it," Seamus said, his voice a bit smug as his fingers stroked against that heavenly spot again. Harry moaned and nodded, pushing back more insistently into Seamus's digits. His jaw twinged, reminding him of the necessity of getting Neville off, and he redoubled his efforts, trying not to get distracted by Seamus shamelessly fingering his arse.
Neville was coming apart above him, letting out little choked off whimpers and groans and watching Harry with blown-out pupils. His hands twisted tight into Harry's hair, and he started slowly guiding Harry faster and faster. Harry wasn't sure Neville was even aware he was doing it, but Harry certainly didn't mind. He moved his hand from Neville's thigh to his bollocks, gently massaging them before moving back behind and stroking his perineum. Neville jolted and then he was coming. Semen flooded Harry's mouth, but Harry kept sucking, swallowing down his come and cleaning off his cock, until Neville gently pushed him away.
With his mouth empty, he could focus all his attention on the fingers thrusting in and out of his arse. Merlin it felt so good, Seamus's fingers spreading him open, getting him wet and loose, brushing up against whatever that was inside him that made him squirm and gasp. His erection was still tangled up in his pants and jeans, and every rocking motion of his hips rubbed him up against the fabric and brought him closer and closer to release. Somehow his head came to rest against Neville's thigh, and Harry panted into his trousers as one of Neville's hands carded comfortingly through his hair.
"Fuck, Harry, you really like this, don't you?" Seamus murmured, his voice filled with awe.
It was all Harry could do just to nod weakly into Neville's thigh. His throat was wrecked, and his prick was so hard that all he could think about was coming as soon as he possibly could. Well that, and the fact that as good as those two fingers felt, they weren't nearly enough.
"Why don't you come, Harry. You've earned it."
It was as if all he'd been waiting for was permission, because suddenly he was coming, his release flooding his pants. Seamus's fingers slipped out of his arse as he trembled through his release, and he could hear the slick sounds and low grunts as Seamus worked his own cock until he came on Harry's bare arse.
"Fuck, that was hot," Dean said above him. He must have made his way over to the three of them sometime during the blow job and fingering. He leaned down and kissed Seamus and Neville before dragging his fingers through the cooling come on Harry's arse, sliding his fingers slowly down his cleft and circling his loosened rim. "Next time we'll have to see how much more you can take."
Dean hummed above him and squeezed his hips, patiently waiting for Harry's go ahead. Harry took a deep breath, clenching down on Dean and wincing at the burst of pain, before relaxing his muscles. That did the trick, and brought the burn down to a manageable level as he moved his hips back. Dean immediately started a slow, easy rhythm, and with every slide of his cock the ache lessened and the pleasure increased.
Harry panted through it and looked over at Neville and Seamus, who were lounging on the next bed, wanking themselves slowly as they watched Dean fuck him. Their eyes were dark as they took him in, and Harry wondered if maybe he had a bit of a thing for exhibitionism, because the thought of their eyes upon him only ramped his arousal higher.
Dean was just starting to speed up and really give it to him, when the door to the dormitory swung open, and Ron stumbled in.
Everybody froze, Ron staring unblinkingly at the scene in front of him and Harry trying not to die of embarrassment. Why the fuck had nobody cast a locking charm? Afterall, this was exactly how Harry had stumbled onto Dean and Seamus not too long ago, in a similar compromising situation. How had it never occurred to him that that there was another Gryffindor in their dormitory that might come across them?
Ron had seemed to recover somewhat, and his eyes trailed slowly over the length of Harry's body and lingered on his arse, where Harry could feel Dean's cock still stretching him open. He knew he was blushing furiously, but his cock was still rock hard, and a sick thrill rushed through him at the thought of his best mate's eyes on him.
"Well, don't stop on my account," Ron said with a friendly smile. His eyes locked onto Harry's, and Harry shivered at the wolf-like gleam in them.
He walked forward slowly, never breaking eye contact. "How long has this been going on, hmm?" Ron murmured pleasantly. "How long have you been gagging for it, Harry? Not too long, I don't think. You're still so desperate for it, aren't you? Desperate to be fucked."
Harry felt like he couldn't breathe for the strange mixture of arousal and fear flooding through his veins. Ron looked so big and intimidating walking towards him with his thin t-shirt pulling tight against the broad muscles of his chest. Harry didn't want Ron to hate him or to think he was disgusting for wanting this so much, but that didn't look like disgust in his eyes. It looked a lot like lust.
Ron reached the foot of the bed, extending a hand and carding it through Harry's sweat-damp hair. Harry whimpered, mouth opening as he gasped at the feel of Ron's hands on his skin. At the noise, Ron grinned, before leaning down and kissing Harry full on the mouth.
Harry lost it, pressing into the kiss desperately, opening his mouth wide and inviting Ron in. Ron's hand in his hair clenched as Ron quickly dominated the kiss, his tongue sliding silkily in and out of Harry's mouth. They kissed for long seconds, wet and filthy until they were both panting and glassy-eyed. Harry had no clue what the fuck was happening, but whatever it was, he desperately didn't want it to stop.
Ron stood up and walked over to the bed that Neville and Seamus were still lounging on – looking incredibly awkward – and leaned against the bedpost, eyes still intent on Harry's. He gestured forward. "Like I said, don't let me stop you."
Harry moaned and before he even realized what he was doing, he was undulating his hips, fucking himself back onto Dean's cock.
Dean's grip tightened on Harry's waist as he started moving into Harry's thrusts. It seemed that Ron's interruption had not put a damper on Dean's arousal either, his cock still hard as it rammed into him. Neville and Seamus seemed to have gotten over their awkwardness and, after a few sly looks at Ron, had resumed their leisurely wanking.
Harry's eyes kept wandering over to Ron, leaning against the post and appearing for all the world like he wasn't watching his best mate get fucked right in front of him. Though there was that tell-tale bulge in Ron's trousers that told Harry he definitely wasn't entirely uninterested in the proceedings.
He wondered how he looked to Ron, on his hands and knees, arching wantonly back into Dean's firm thrusts. Was Ron just going to watch? Or would he want to join in, want to feel for himself what Harry felt like wrapped around him?
The thought had him clenching down around Dean's prick, working himself back harder, chasing the enhanced pleasure from Ron's hungry eyes devouring him. Dean's hands squeezed tight around his skin, and then he was coming, holding himself deep inside Harry as he came.
Harry was still hard, breathless and wanting as Dean carefully slid out. His hole felt wet and wide open, like anybody could just come over and slide their cock right in. Desire coiled white-hot inside of him at the thought, and maybe some of that desperation was written on his face, because the next moment Ron was speaking.
"I think Harry feels empty. Why don't you go fill him up, Neville?"
Neville's eyes darted a bit nervously between Harry and Ron.
"Go on, Neville. Can't you see how desperate he is? How badly he wants to be fucked? You're aching for it, aren't you, Harry? Don't you want Neville to give it to you?"
Ron's voice was mesmerizing, hypnotizing, and Harry felt like he was being drawn to him, even though he knew he hadn't moved. He gulped and nodded shakily.
Neville quickly made his way behind Harry, placing a tentative hand on Harry's waist as the head of his prick rubbed against his relaxed entrance. Harry could feel Dean's come leaking out of him and trembled as Neville's cock smeared it against his skin. And then Neville was pushing steadily in, his way eased by the leftover lube and come.
Harry took a deep breath. Neville wasn't as long as Dean was, but he was thicker, and Harry was fiercely glad for it, glad that he still got to feel that first rush of stinging pleasure-pain as Neville worked his way inside.
He was focusing on adjusting to the thick weight of Neville inside of him, when he heard Ron's voice again.
"There's no reason you should have to wait, Seamus. Harry's got a perfectly good mouth on him. It seems like such a shame to waste it."
Harry moaned, and Seamus laughed, scrambling over to Harry. Unlike Neville, he didn't seem to have any worries about how much Harry was enjoying himself, and had no problems following Ron's directives.
Without hesitation, Harry swallowed Seamus down, practice making it almost effortless. He focused on the feel of Seamus, the taste of precome on the back of his throat and the smell of Seamus's arousal filling his nostrils. Harry was so lost in sensation that he'd almost forgotten about Neville, about the cock spreading his arse wide open. But then Neville was moving, and there was no way Harry was forgetting about him anytime soon.
Trying to establish a rhythm was awkward at first, until Harry gave up his last hold on control, letting things click into place as Seamus and Neville took charge of the pace. Neville fucked into him with quick, sharp jabs of his hips, occasionally glancing across Harry's prostate and making him moan. His thrusts pushed Harry's mouth farther onto Seamus's cock, and Harry worked to relax his throat and take him as deep as he could. Seamus's hands wound tight into his hair, giving Harry no leverage, forcing him to open up and just take it as Seamus fucked his face.
He felt so full – claimed and owned and flying out of his skin with sensation. Harry didn't even have time to form a thought, as every time one started to take place, it was fucked right out of him. The pleasure built, stoking higher and higher as he trembled and moaned and fell apart, and Neville and Seamus took what they needed. Distantly, Harry knew that Ron was watching him, that his sharp eyes were catching every thrust of Neville's thick cock into his arse, every drag of Seamus's prick against his lips, every moan and shiver and clench of Harry's hands into the sheets. All it took was that thought, combined with the overwhelming sensation of Neville and Seamus inside of him, and Harry was coming, his cock untouched as he spurted onto the bed.
Harry lost track of time as he trembled through his prolonged orgasm, until Neville's hips started stuttering. Neville gave just that brief warning, before he came, and pumped his hips through his release. Harry could feel the warm semen sliding out of his hole with every thrust, sliding thickly down his balls, and he groaned at the feeling.
Seamus was still fucking roughly into his mouth and Harry's moan vibrated around his cock, sending him over the edge. He pulled Harry forcefully forward, sinking him down on his cock until Harry's nose was buried in the curly hair of his groin, as he came down Harry's throat. Harry worked his throat, doing his best to swallow what he could while the rest trickled out the sides of his mouth.
After a few brief moments, Neville and Seamus both eased themselves out of Harry, trailing spit and lube and come across his skin. He looked over at Ron, who was still leaning against the bedpost, face flushed and eyes completely black. Harry's eyes flicked down to his crotch, and his mouth started watering at the large bulge there. He stared at Ron, knowing that there was no hiding the naked lust and desire he was overcome with. Harry had only just come, but he could already feel his cock twitching with interest.
Vaguely, he registered Neville and Seamus moving away, probably to join Dean, though he couldn't have said where that was. All he could focus on was Ron. Ron, who had straightened up and was prowling closer.
He raised a hand to Harry's sweaty face, tracing a rough thumb over his come-covered lips. "You looked so good taking all of them like that. But I wonder what I should take. Your mouth or your arse."
Harry was burning as he opened his mouth, taking in Ron's thumb and sucking on the calloused digit. He tasted like salt and skin, and Harry wanted him desperately. "Why not both?" He suggested, his voice scratchy and raw.
Ron smirked and leaned down, swiping his tongue over Harry's lips before giving him a slow, filthy kiss. He stood up and quickly unbuttoned his jeans. With a wink, he pulled down everything to reveal his hard, leaking prick.
Harry's mouth went dry. Ron was hung. He'd known Ron had nothing to be ashamed of, but the few glimpses Harry had caught in the showers had definitely not prepared him for the sheer size and length of him. His desire felt like a wild, living thing, the pulsing frantic desperation to just get his mouth on Ron clawing at Harry's skin.
He opened wide, tilting his head back and looking Ron straight in the eye as he extended his tongue, inviting Ron to use his mouth.
"Good boy," Ron murmured, rubbing the leaking head against Harry's lips before slowly easing his way inside Harry's mouth.
Ron seemed to go on forever, miles of cock entering Harry's throat as his hands slid into Harry's messy hair. Harry couldn't take all of him, but Ron somehow seemed to know exactly when it was getting to be too much, immediately easing back out and letting Harry breathe before he gagged. It was so easy to slip into the rhythm, Harry's eyes fluttering closed, doing his best to slide his tongue against the shaft as Ron pumped in and out.
All too soon Ron was pulling Harry firmly off his cock, not even relenting when Harry made a whining sound and struggled to swallow him back down.
"None of that now. I don't want to come yet. Unless you don't want to feel my cock in your arse?"
"No – I want that," Harry replied, not bothering to try and hide the desperation coloring his voice.
"Turn around and grip the bedpost."
Harry turned shakily, his legs feeling weak and coltish after staying in his kneeling position for so long. He could already feel a twinge in his arse as he turned around and braced himself against the wooden posts. Behind him, the bed dipped with Ron's weight, and Harry gave a full-body shudder as it hit him that this was really happening. His best mate had just fucked his mouth and was probably staring right now at his puffy, used arsehole – was going to be fucking him soon with his massive prick. Want flowed like magma through his veins, making him feel hot and slutty and aching to be filled.
"Spread your legs a bit wider. Let me see you, Harry."
He shuffled his legs farther apart on the bed, tilting his arse back and completely exposing himself. He'd never felt so shameless in his entire life, and the feeling was a heady one.
Rough fingers rubbed deliciously against the top of his spine, zigzagging downward and continuing into the cleft of his arse. They circled his rim, and Harry's breath caught at the sensation. He could feel come and lube dripping out of him, the feeling filthy and thrilling. Ron swiped at the mess, and prodded carefully at Harry until he relaxed, before he slipped his fingers right inside, fucking the come back into him. Harry arched back into the it, relishing the feeling of having something inside him again.
"You really are such a slut for it." Ron sounded almost reverent. "You've already had two cocks in your arse today and it still wasn't enough. You're such a greedy thing, aren't you Harry?"
Harry nodded, gasping as Ron's fingers brushed up against his over-sensitive prostate. His cock was fully hard now and the combination of Ron's clever fingers and his dirty voice was sending him perilously close to the edge.
"You should – you should fuck me then," Harry bit out. "Please – please fuck me. I need it."
"You beg so prettily, Harry. Don't worry, I'll give you what you need. We look out for each other, don't we? That's what best mates do."
Ron's fingers slid out of him, and Harry heard a hasty lubrication charm before the slick, blunt head of Ron's cock was nudging at his entrance.
He was so big, thick and long and stretching Harry so wide as he slid inside. Harry could feel every ridge and vein of him as Ron's prick pushed past his sensitive rim, scraping against his inner walls and making him feel faint with sensory overload.
Harry's breath was ragged by the time Ron was fully seated in his arse. Ron ran those rough hands of his soothingly down the length of Harry's back once, before squeezing his arse cheeks and grabbing hold. That was all the warning Harry got before Ron was fucking in, hard.
The wooden bedpost was solid and sharp beneath his clenched fists, as unforgiving as Ron's punishing rhythm. Each powerful thrust fucked the breath right out of him, until it was an effort just to breathe. All of his muscles strained against the force of him as Harry braced himself against the passionate onslaught.
Harry was reduced to sensation. To need and pleasure and that aching, beautiful fullness pushing him closer and closer to release. His cock slapped against his abdomen as Ron rutted into him, flushed a frightening red and leaving trails of precome in its wake.
Behind him Ron was grunting, letting loose a stream of curse words mixed with Harry's name and prayers to deities as he took Harry over and over. Harry suddenly wished he could see what Ron looked like, could see the flex of his arse, the ripple of the muscles in his back, see the sweat soaking his skin, and the hefty length of him splitting Harry in two. He wondered how difficult it would be to obtain a pensieve and if the risk of being caught using McGonagall's would be worth it to see what Ron looked like when he was fucking him.
"Ron – please – " Harry gasped, desperate for Ron to touch him, desperate to come.
"You ready to come, Harry? Want to come on my cock?"
"Yes, God, just please – touch me!"
"You only had to ask, Harry."
Without missing a beat, Ron reached around and wrapped a firm hand around Harry's cock. He formed a loose fist, and the force of his thrusts fucked Harry's cock into his hand. Harry let out an embarrassingly high keen, his movement suddenly frantic as he tried to work his hips back against Ron and forward into that perfect, tight friction around his cock.
It didn't take long before Harry finally tumbled over the edge, screaming his release as he came onto the sheets. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, his balls emptying as he clenched down around Ron's cock still fucking into him.
Ron moaned, deep and low as Harry's muscles rippled and clenched around him. His hips picked up speed until, finally, he pushed as far inside Harry as he could get, biting Harry's shoulder as he came.
Harry collapsed against the post, his head resting against the cool wood as he came down from his high. Ron was licking at the bite mark on his shoulder, and Harry started to process the sting as his head cleared, though he found the slight pain didn't bother him much.
With a groan, Ron eased himself out of Harry's hole. Harry felt tender and swollen, and he knew he'd be feeling the after-effects for a few days. The thought made his stomach feel oddly fluttery.
The familiar tingle of a cleaning spell swept over him and he sighed happily at the wonderful lack of fluid leaking out of his arse. With aching slowness, he pushed himself off the bed, every single one of his muscles stiff and sore. He blushed when he noticed Ron gazing at him appreciatively, and he made a futile attempt to cover himself with his hands, feeling strangely embarrassed, .
On the next bed, he saw Neville and Seamus and Dean all piled together looking happy and satiated.
"Well, I'm knackered," Seamus yawned, breaking the silence. They all laughed.
"Well I'm filthy," Ron replied, and Seamus leered at him. Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm taking a shower."
"Yeah, me too," Harry agreed. The cleaning charm had helped a bit, but he still felt a bit grimy. Though the prospect of standing up for as long as it took to take a shower seemed a little daunting.
"Same here," Neville chimed in.
"Oh, fine. We'll all shower together. I mean, somebody has to make sure Harry gets clean," Seamus acquiesced, as if they'd all been haranguing him to join them.
"Not my fault you all like getting me dirty," Harry grinned. "Though nobody is getting inside my arse for a good long while."
Ron skimmed a hand down Harry's back and grabbed his bum, his grin feral and full of promise.