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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen
Pairing: Harry Potter: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry comes home from a hard-fought Quidditch match to a very warm welcome indeed. Or does he?
Length: 1500 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: NOT in the EWFS-verse.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eccentricfemme; consider it a late birthday present. Also, a payment for all these super shibby icons you've been making. The rest of you should know that while our Femme is a Snape fan, I cannot write Snapesmut, so Femme had to pick another pairing.
Harry Potter unlocked his front door and stepped into the spacious house, dropping his Quidditch gear in the foyer and kicking off his shoes. He leaned back against the door, ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair, and sighed.
A dark, handsome head popped around the corner from the kitchen. "Home already?" Sirius asked.
Harry smiled. "I can never stay away from you for long."
Sirius grinned as he walked toward his lover. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that." He leaned forward to give Harry a quick kiss hello, but the other man held on, deepening the kiss, until both were quite breathless.
Then Sirius said, "Don't they have showers in those stadium locker rooms?"
"Yes," Harry replied, "but on game day there is all that press—if I showered there I would never get home. Besides," he added mischievously, "who would wash my back?"
"I don't know, Harry," Sirius teased as he kissed Harry. "That Draco Malfoy always seems to be looking your way. Didn't you fancy him at school?"
"Why would I look at him," Harry asked, "when I can look at you?"
"That sounds like the right answer," Sirius said. He pulled away from Harry and moved him away from the door. "March, you!" he ordered, keeping one hand on Harry's back as they went up the stairs.
The master bathroom was Harry's favorite room in the house. (Well, aside from the master bedroom.) Its centerpiece was a vast black granite stone veneer shower cabinet that took up nearly the entire room. Warm water—always magically set to the perfect pressure and temperature—sprayed into the center from eight recessed shower heads scattered around the periphery. Sunlight streamed in from a skylight in the vaulted ceiling, making the polished stone shine. Sirius activated the shower heads and then turned to face Harry.
The other man, despite his disheveled, post-match appearance, was determined to be as seductive as possible. He was proud of his body, of how it had developed in the years since school, and he knew what the sight of it did to his lover. Slowly, he unfastened his Quidditch robe, letting it slip to the floor in a heap. He peeled his sweaty jersey off as well, earning a gasp from Sirius as his broad chest was revealed. The sweat on his muscular arms and shoulders gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
"You're certainly all grown up now," Sirius said admiringly.
Harry slowly unbuttoned his corduroy trousers, pushing them down and off along with his socks, so that he stood before Sirius clad only in a black jock that made his arousal even more apparent. He looped his thumbs under the waistband, then gave his lover a saucy grin and asked, "Shall I do this, or would you rather?"
Sirius swallowed hard. "You've done a good job so far," he said, his voice raspy.
"All right, then," Harry said, turning away so that as he bent over to push the pants over his toned legs his perfect arse was displayed to best effect.
When Harry looked up, he saw that Sirius had somehow shed his all of his clothes. His long, thick hair fell across his broad shoulders, his hands were resting against his angular hips, and his large cock stood erect. The shower had been running for some time, and thick clouds of steam, shot through with sunlight, surrounded Sirius, making him look even more otherworldly than usual.
Suddenly, as though he couldn't bear to not be touching any more, Sirius grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him into the shower. Harry loved how their bodies fit together, Sirius' thick cock nestled in the cleft of his arse and his chin resting on the top of Harry's head. Sirius took a soapy sponge and placed it in Harry's hand, then put his own hands atop Harry's smaller ones and washed Harry's body, tenderly, so that it was almost a massage, and Harry nearly purred at the treatment.
Then Sirius slid a bit of soap between Harry's cheeks, using it to lubricate his fingers and Harry before letting it drop to the floor of the shower. He eased one, then two fingers into Harry, who moaned deeply, his head dropping to his chest. He pushed back eagerly, trying to impale himself on the invading fingers, and Sirius added yet a third in response. Then he put one strong arm around Harry, his hand splayed across his flat stomach.
Sirius removed his fingers and allowed them both to sink down to their knees on the polished stone floor. He held firm to Harry's hips as he pushed his cock into the tight, slick opening. Harry moaned deeply as Sirius entered him. "You're such a strong, sexy man now," Sirius was saying. "God, I love to fuck you."
"I love how you fuck me," Harry said, and meant it. Sirius always knew the right place to touch, when to tease and when to be firm. The older man's experience seemed to have been all to Harry's benefit; Sirius put him into some sort of erotic trance most nights, and this was no exception. He was fucking Harry relentlessly, with a force that Harry thought would split him in two. Sirius still had one hand on Harry's hip but the other had reached around to grasp his cock, firmly jacking him off in the same rhythm. Harry knew he couldn't last long under this onslaught.
Then suddenly Sirius was coming, shouting Harry's name, and Harry was coming as well, because they always came at the same time, so attuned to each other's bodies were they. Harry shouted Sirius' name as he often did, and they sat on the floor, catching their breath but not yet separated.
When Harry opened his eyes, he was alone in the Quidditch locker room at Hogwarts. The cement floor of the shower was rough against his knees and a single shower head blasted overly warm water onto his back and arse, but his front was chilled by the cold air in the room. Moonlight shone feebly through a small window near the tin roof.
He leaned forward slightly and reached around to pull the dildo from his arse. Then he slid back to clean it under the spray. He sighed in disappointment as his mind reluctantly returned to reality.
Sirius. As if. He shook his head. He was never going to be a big, buff professional Quidditch player living in an enormous house with Sirius Black as his lover. And that granite shower? How poofy could he get?
In fact, if he ever stripped like that in front of Sirius the older man was unlikely to react with lust. He would probably be struck dumb, run to find Remus, and the possessive werewolf would tear Harry limb from limb. Or worse, he would be sympathetic, wrap Harry up in a robe and tell him about his own adolescent crushes. Harry would never be a man to Sirius—just a godson.
No. Actually trying to seduce Sirius Black and being patronized was the worst thing that could possibly happen.
"Well, look at you, Harry Potter."
Revise that. The worst thing that could possibly happen was to be caught by your recently-forswore-his-father-and-gave-up-his-name-whereupon-you-realized-how-hot-he-really-was former rival, with a dildo in your hand, watching your semen gradually wash down the drain of the Quidditch locker room shower.
Harry put on a stern face. "What are you up to now, Malfoy?" he said impatiently, hoping desperately that he hadn't actually called out Sirius' name, or at least that Draco hadn't heard him.
"I had to find out why you keep locking yourself up in here," Draco said as he stepped out of the shadows. He wasn't big and broad in frame like Sirius, but small and lithe like Harry himself. He hadn't a stitch of clothing on, and his pale hair and skin glowed in the moonlight.
Harry willed himself not to react in any way. "Surely there are easier ways to indulge your voyeurism fetish," he said, refusing to make eye contact, though the only other thing to look at was the dildo.
"I may be a voyeur, but you were fantasizing about your own godfather," Draco pointed out as he walked into the shower. "That's sick and twisted."
Harry looked up to find himself eye-to-eye with Draco's cock, which startled him. "Malfoy—" he began.
Draco knelt in front of Harry. "Sweet, but sick and twisted."
Harry opened his mouth to object but found that his voice didn't work.
"I like that in a man," Draco said, leaning in to kiss him.
Title: The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen
Pairing: Harry Potter: Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry comes home from a hard-fought Quidditch match to a very warm welcome indeed. Or does he?
Length: 1500 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: NOT in the EWFS-verse.
For
eccentricfemme; consider it a late birthday present. Also, a payment for all these super shibby icons you've been making. The rest of you should know that while our Femme is a Snape fan, I cannot write Snapesmut, so Femme had to pick another pairing.Harry Potter unlocked his front door and stepped into the spacious house, dropping his Quidditch gear in the foyer and kicking off his shoes. He leaned back against the door, ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair, and sighed.
A dark, handsome head popped around the corner from the kitchen. "Home already?" Sirius asked.
Harry smiled. "I can never stay away from you for long."
Sirius grinned as he walked toward his lover. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that." He leaned forward to give Harry a quick kiss hello, but the other man held on, deepening the kiss, until both were quite breathless.
Then Sirius said, "Don't they have showers in those stadium locker rooms?"
"Yes," Harry replied, "but on game day there is all that press—if I showered there I would never get home. Besides," he added mischievously, "who would wash my back?"
"I don't know, Harry," Sirius teased as he kissed Harry. "That Draco Malfoy always seems to be looking your way. Didn't you fancy him at school?"
"Why would I look at him," Harry asked, "when I can look at you?"
"That sounds like the right answer," Sirius said. He pulled away from Harry and moved him away from the door. "March, you!" he ordered, keeping one hand on Harry's back as they went up the stairs.
The master bathroom was Harry's favorite room in the house. (Well, aside from the master bedroom.) Its centerpiece was a vast black granite stone veneer shower cabinet that took up nearly the entire room. Warm water—always magically set to the perfect pressure and temperature—sprayed into the center from eight recessed shower heads scattered around the periphery. Sunlight streamed in from a skylight in the vaulted ceiling, making the polished stone shine. Sirius activated the shower heads and then turned to face Harry.
The other man, despite his disheveled, post-match appearance, was determined to be as seductive as possible. He was proud of his body, of how it had developed in the years since school, and he knew what the sight of it did to his lover. Slowly, he unfastened his Quidditch robe, letting it slip to the floor in a heap. He peeled his sweaty jersey off as well, earning a gasp from Sirius as his broad chest was revealed. The sweat on his muscular arms and shoulders gleamed in the late afternoon sun.
"You're certainly all grown up now," Sirius said admiringly.
Harry slowly unbuttoned his corduroy trousers, pushing them down and off along with his socks, so that he stood before Sirius clad only in a black jock that made his arousal even more apparent. He looped his thumbs under the waistband, then gave his lover a saucy grin and asked, "Shall I do this, or would you rather?"
Sirius swallowed hard. "You've done a good job so far," he said, his voice raspy.
"All right, then," Harry said, turning away so that as he bent over to push the pants over his toned legs his perfect arse was displayed to best effect.
When Harry looked up, he saw that Sirius had somehow shed his all of his clothes. His long, thick hair fell across his broad shoulders, his hands were resting against his angular hips, and his large cock stood erect. The shower had been running for some time, and thick clouds of steam, shot through with sunlight, surrounded Sirius, making him look even more otherworldly than usual.
Suddenly, as though he couldn't bear to not be touching any more, Sirius grabbed Harry around the waist and pulled him into the shower. Harry loved how their bodies fit together, Sirius' thick cock nestled in the cleft of his arse and his chin resting on the top of Harry's head. Sirius took a soapy sponge and placed it in Harry's hand, then put his own hands atop Harry's smaller ones and washed Harry's body, tenderly, so that it was almost a massage, and Harry nearly purred at the treatment.
Then Sirius slid a bit of soap between Harry's cheeks, using it to lubricate his fingers and Harry before letting it drop to the floor of the shower. He eased one, then two fingers into Harry, who moaned deeply, his head dropping to his chest. He pushed back eagerly, trying to impale himself on the invading fingers, and Sirius added yet a third in response. Then he put one strong arm around Harry, his hand splayed across his flat stomach.
Sirius removed his fingers and allowed them both to sink down to their knees on the polished stone floor. He held firm to Harry's hips as he pushed his cock into the tight, slick opening. Harry moaned deeply as Sirius entered him. "You're such a strong, sexy man now," Sirius was saying. "God, I love to fuck you."
"I love how you fuck me," Harry said, and meant it. Sirius always knew the right place to touch, when to tease and when to be firm. The older man's experience seemed to have been all to Harry's benefit; Sirius put him into some sort of erotic trance most nights, and this was no exception. He was fucking Harry relentlessly, with a force that Harry thought would split him in two. Sirius still had one hand on Harry's hip but the other had reached around to grasp his cock, firmly jacking him off in the same rhythm. Harry knew he couldn't last long under this onslaught.
Then suddenly Sirius was coming, shouting Harry's name, and Harry was coming as well, because they always came at the same time, so attuned to each other's bodies were they. Harry shouted Sirius' name as he often did, and they sat on the floor, catching their breath but not yet separated.
When Harry opened his eyes, he was alone in the Quidditch locker room at Hogwarts. The cement floor of the shower was rough against his knees and a single shower head blasted overly warm water onto his back and arse, but his front was chilled by the cold air in the room. Moonlight shone feebly through a small window near the tin roof.
He leaned forward slightly and reached around to pull the dildo from his arse. Then he slid back to clean it under the spray. He sighed in disappointment as his mind reluctantly returned to reality.
Sirius. As if. He shook his head. He was never going to be a big, buff professional Quidditch player living in an enormous house with Sirius Black as his lover. And that granite shower? How poofy could he get?
In fact, if he ever stripped like that in front of Sirius the older man was unlikely to react with lust. He would probably be struck dumb, run to find Remus, and the possessive werewolf would tear Harry limb from limb. Or worse, he would be sympathetic, wrap Harry up in a robe and tell him about his own adolescent crushes. Harry would never be a man to Sirius—just a godson.
No. Actually trying to seduce Sirius Black and being patronized was the worst thing that could possibly happen.
"Well, look at you, Harry Potter."
Revise that. The worst thing that could possibly happen was to be caught by your recently-forswore-his-father-and-gave-up-his-name-whereupon-you-realized-how-hot-he-really-was former rival, with a dildo in your hand, watching your semen gradually wash down the drain of the Quidditch locker room shower.
Harry put on a stern face. "What are you up to now, Malfoy?" he said impatiently, hoping desperately that he hadn't actually called out Sirius' name, or at least that Draco hadn't heard him.
"I had to find out why you keep locking yourself up in here," Draco said as he stepped out of the shadows. He wasn't big and broad in frame like Sirius, but small and lithe like Harry himself. He hadn't a stitch of clothing on, and his pale hair and skin glowed in the moonlight.
Harry willed himself not to react in any way. "Surely there are easier ways to indulge your voyeurism fetish," he said, refusing to make eye contact, though the only other thing to look at was the dildo.
"I may be a voyeur, but you were fantasizing about your own godfather," Draco pointed out as he walked into the shower. "That's sick and twisted."
Harry looked up to find himself eye-to-eye with Draco's cock, which startled him. "Malfoy—" he began.
Draco knelt in front of Harry. "Sweet, but sick and twisted."
Harry opened his mouth to object but found that his voice didn't work.
"I like that in a man," Draco said, leaning in to kiss him.
