Title: Days of Aurors' Past
Summary: After the Dark War, Harry must find his place in the new world. Will an old rival be able to re-ignite his spark amidst new troubles, new enemies, and new evils? Plot-driven slash!
Pairing: H/D
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: You know the score
Author's Notes: Just a cookie... a nice, pervy cookie for you!
It was barely midnight when Harry was dragged out of the club and into a nearby alley. Hands and lips danced over each other in a failed attempt to be more than it was. The lad hissed when Harry grabbed and pulled at his hair.
“Don’t,” he whispered, commandingly. “I don’t wanna mess m’hair, mate.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop with the furious assault. The smell of rank rubbish, discarded beer and piss permeated his nose from the discarded remnants of their surroundings. Stumbling over bottles and boxes, Harry managed to pin the young lad up against the wall. Rats scattered from their hiding places as they continued assaulting each other’s mouths and necks and buttocks. Harry felt a leg wrap around his waist.
“Fuck me,” the kid whimpered.
Harry fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a condom. Before he could rip the package open, a hand covered his.
“No, not with that.”
Harry looked puzzled.
“I know a wizard when I fuck one,” the boy sneered. “Do what wizards do.”
Harry understood the request. He took his wand out from his back pocket as the kid turned to face the wall. He unbuckled his belt and spread his legs apart, letting his trousers fall to his ankles. Harry whispered an incantation as his wand made its way between the youthful legs of his target. He felt the boy shutter as he stepped up between his legs.
Harry parted the lad’s arse cheeks with one hand, snaking a finger until he found outer rim of his moist entrance. He slid two fingers in the tight hole and brought the tip of his cock until it touched his own finger. The boy arched his back and gasped as Harry plunged the length of his cock deep into his ass.
It took a moment before they found a comfortable rhythm, if you could call it comfortable. The boy clawed at the wall, his cheek pressed against it. Harry clawed at the boy’s chest, his arms hooked under him and his face buried in the nape of his neck.
There was nothing sexy about this exchange; there was nothing beautiful about their fornication. It was purely carnal and lecherous; every thrust of the Harry’s hips reminding him more and more what he was missing in his life. Harry’s chest pressed harder into his lover’s back as his breathing became more panted grunts than actual breaths. His pace increased with every plunge as the boy begged “more” and “harder” and “faster”.
Harry’s frantic tempo stopped, abruptly. He tensed and held his breath, his only movements were spasms of muscle and thought. His breathing slowed as he leaned further into the body in front of him. The boy breathed in a hiss as Harry pulled out of his hungry hole, but he did not move.
Harry whispered a cleaning spell.
“Thanks,” the bloke said as he pushed away from the wall and began pulling up his leather trousers.