Fic: Good Boys, NC-17
Challenge: Big fan Ron asks Harry to get him something of Krum's. Harry reluctantly agrees and is caught red-handed by Viktor.
Title: Good Boys
Author: ella_bane
Beta: maeglinyedi, gmth, and cursescar.
Summary: See challenge. :)
Warning: none
Word Count: 1,417
Rating: NC-17
Notes: This was written for the triwizardfqf. This story takes place during GoF.
Good Boys
"Vot are you doing in my room, Potter?" said Viktor Krum softly. He stood in front of the cabin door, and shut it behind him with a soft click.
Harry whirled around, caught completely unaware, and babbled. "Um, I thought it would be . . . that is, you see . . . Ron and I, well . . . I mean --"
"Ron? The red-headed boy? Herm-own-ninny's other friend?" Viktor interrupted, looking at Harry suspiciously as he walked toward the large bed that dominated the small dank space.
Harry dropped the duffel bag emblazoned with Durmstrang's crest and elbowed where he thought Ron's torso would be, conveniently hidden under the invisibility cloak. The resulting "oof" was a tad louder than the one he'd tried to conceal.
"Vot was that?" Viktor asked, looking around the dark, wood-paneled cabin with narrowed eyes.
"Nothing. Uh . . . it's my stomach. I'm awfully hungry. The food here at Hogwarts is so bad." Harry grimaced, realizing Krum couldn't possibly buy this lie.
Viktor, who merely looked thoughtful at this statement, nodded fractionally. "I have eaten better."
Ron's indignant gasp filled the tiny cabin. Harry faked a coughing fit a half-beat later, hoping to cover Ron's second unwanted sound.
Viktor crossed his arms and his heavy black brows drew together darkly. "I thought Gryffindor House was the good boys and girls house. Vhy are you in my cabin uninvited?"
Harry blinked. He didn't know how to respond to that one. Good boys and girls house? "Er."
"I know someone else is here." Viktor stepped close and pointed out the empty space behind Harry's left with a wiggle of fingers that should have looked effeminate, but instead was intimidating and oddly arousing. Oddly arousing? "I could hear noises."
"I'm alone. Really," Harry said quickly, desperately trying to ignore the interested twitch of his really stupid cock. This was all Ron's fault. How did he let Ron talk him into sneaking into Viktor Krum's cabin? And for what? A souvenir?
At Krum's stare and pursed lips, Harry added, "Look, I'm here because I think you're a bloody good player and I want a piece of . . . um . . . perhaps you have an item . . . you'd be willing to part with . . . er."
"Jersey. Get a jersey," Ron whispered urgently.
"Shut up," muttered Harry out of the corner of his mouth, standing more squarely in front of where he thought Ron might be, as if his action would block Ron from view. He gave the older boy a weak grin.
Viktor squinted at Harry, reached out suddenly -- in a move reminiscent of catching the snitch -- and pulled the invisibility cloak free. "Ah ha."
Ron yelped as the shimmering fabric lifted off his body; Harry made a move to grab it but thought better of the impulse and stopped when he imagined his precious cloak torn in two.
Viktor turned the fabric over in his hands, before saying, "You said you were alone?" He raised an eyebrow, then turned to lay the cloak on the large bed behind him.
Harry threw Ron an angry glance. "This was your idea," he grumbled under his breath, stealing a look at Krum, who was running his fingers along the cloak in obvious appreciation.
Ron ignored Harry. "Ahem," he said loudly.
Viktor turned back to the two boys. "You have something to say to me?"
"Yes, um, yes I do," Ron started. Harry put a warning hand on Ron's arm, but Ron shook the hand free. "The food at Hogwarts isn't bad," he exclaimed hotly.
Harry groaned inwardly, but stuck to Ron's side. He eyed his cloak spread out so neatly on the bed. Would Krum give it back? Would he report them?
Krum watched them, impassive as stone. Ron then added, mimicking Krum's voice surprisingly well, "We're not the 'good boys and girls' house!"
"You are not good boys?" Viktor said, and he shuffled back to them.
Once Krum was properly in their personal space, Harry's cock came back to life, and the air in the tiny room was suddenly thick, too thick to breathe without opening his mouth. Harry was acutely aware of Krum's scent. He must have been exercising, or flying before he found them -- the memories of Krum's performance at the Quidditch World Cup rushed through Harry -- because he smelled sweaty, with a light aroma of spicy cologne, and utterly male. The fine hairs on Krum's arm brushed Harry's as he reached for Ron's face and slid his finger along the freckled jaw. "You are saying you are bad boys, then?"
Harry could hear Ron gulp and looked down to see a considerable hard-on tenting Ron's ragged jeans. Ron's cock had to be as hard as Harry's. He desperately wanted to cup his crotch to conceal this fact, but didn't want to draw attention to it either. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and counted silently. He heard Ron mumble an answer to Krum's question, heard Krum chuckle, heard clothing shift, heard a gasp . . . when he hit twenty-five, he felt a hand curl around his shoulder.
"Harry," Viktor said with concern. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fabulous," said Harry faintly, opening his eyes. "Spiffing. Really."
"Fuck," said Ron.
Harry turned to his friend -- Ron was breathing raggedly and his body rocked rhythmically. Harry was slow to process what was happening right in front of him, but when he forced himself to look down and saw the ginger hairs around Ron's cock cling wetly and spring free with every pass of Krum's fist, he could only echo Ron. "Fuck."
Before he could say another word, Krum's hand was on Harry's crotch.
"You like this?" Viktor asked. His thumb and forefinger outlined Harry's denim-clad cock.
Ron's little noises of dismay or pleasure -- Harry couldn't tell -- were louder now, and the steady pressure of Krum's hand was almost perfect. All Harry wanted was Krum's fingers around his cock. "Yes. Please."
Viktor nodded encouragingly. "Put your hand on my shoulder, Harry. That's it. Good. Now pull your pants down."
Harry's jeans and underwear fell to his ankles. He clutched Krum's shoulder tighter when callused fingers slid up and down his cock. His toes curled and head dropped when those fingers rolled his sac.
"Fu -- fu -- fucking brilliant," Ron stuttered, and he grabbed Harry's arm, fingernails digging for obvious support. Harry gave him a tentative smile, which Ron returned weakly, and Harry grasped Ron's hip. The tableau of the three of them, connected by wet slides and knuckle-white grips, struck Harry as oddly perfect.
The air in the dank cabin was impossibly thicker; the smell of sweaty flesh, their combined breaths -- all their mouths were open -- and the unmistakable scent of sex were nearly tangible.
Ron groaned urgently, and Harry knew he was close; Ron wasn't always as quiet as he tried to be in their dorm room, late at night. He looked down at Ron's cock, and as he watched, come pumped out of the slit, covering Krum's fist in silky trails. Harry's mouth watered and he felt his own orgasm begin just by seeing Krum's two hands working both cocks so easily.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry whispered. He watched in fascination as his cock painted Krum's other hand in equally long white streaks.
Viktor smiled, and reached behind toward the bed. He snatched the cloak and began wiping his hands on the shiny material.
Ron stumbled away and struggled back into his clothes, shooting glances at both Harry and Viktor. His dark frown was overshadowed by the confusion in his eyes.
Harry stood weak-kneed, staring at his beloved cloak. He couldn't speak as he pulled up his jeans.
"What about you?" Ron managed. He gestured awkwardly toward the noticeable bulge in Krum's trousers. "Do you want us to . . . " Ron glanced toward Harry, his eyes wide.
"No," Viktor answered. "You are good boys. Run back to your tower." He threw the cloak at Harry, who caught it without thinking. "I won't tell you came into my room uninvited."
"Are we invited later?" Ron sounded hopeful, and Harry couldn't help but feel hopeful too.
Viktor pulled out his cock, fat and red, oozing precome. He settled on the black bedspread, legs comfortably sprawled out, and tilted his head to one side. "No. I like bad boys."
-The End-
Title: Good Boys
Author: ella_bane
Beta: maeglinyedi, gmth, and cursescar.
Summary: See challenge. :)
Warning: none
Word Count: 1,417
Rating: NC-17
Notes: This was written for the triwizardfqf. This story takes place during GoF.
Good Boys
"Vot are you doing in my room, Potter?" said Viktor Krum softly. He stood in front of the cabin door, and shut it behind him with a soft click.
Harry whirled around, caught completely unaware, and babbled. "Um, I thought it would be . . . that is, you see . . . Ron and I, well . . . I mean --"
"Ron? The red-headed boy? Herm-own-ninny's other friend?" Viktor interrupted, looking at Harry suspiciously as he walked toward the large bed that dominated the small dank space.
Harry dropped the duffel bag emblazoned with Durmstrang's crest and elbowed where he thought Ron's torso would be, conveniently hidden under the invisibility cloak. The resulting "oof" was a tad louder than the one he'd tried to conceal.
"Vot was that?" Viktor asked, looking around the dark, wood-paneled cabin with narrowed eyes.
"Nothing. Uh . . . it's my stomach. I'm awfully hungry. The food here at Hogwarts is so bad." Harry grimaced, realizing Krum couldn't possibly buy this lie.
Viktor, who merely looked thoughtful at this statement, nodded fractionally. "I have eaten better."
Ron's indignant gasp filled the tiny cabin. Harry faked a coughing fit a half-beat later, hoping to cover Ron's second unwanted sound.
Viktor crossed his arms and his heavy black brows drew together darkly. "I thought Gryffindor House was the good boys and girls house. Vhy are you in my cabin uninvited?"
Harry blinked. He didn't know how to respond to that one. Good boys and girls house? "Er."
"I know someone else is here." Viktor stepped close and pointed out the empty space behind Harry's left with a wiggle of fingers that should have looked effeminate, but instead was intimidating and oddly arousing. Oddly arousing? "I could hear noises."
"I'm alone. Really," Harry said quickly, desperately trying to ignore the interested twitch of his really stupid cock. This was all Ron's fault. How did he let Ron talk him into sneaking into Viktor Krum's cabin? And for what? A souvenir?
At Krum's stare and pursed lips, Harry added, "Look, I'm here because I think you're a bloody good player and I want a piece of . . . um . . . perhaps you have an item . . . you'd be willing to part with . . . er."
"Jersey. Get a jersey," Ron whispered urgently.
"Shut up," muttered Harry out of the corner of his mouth, standing more squarely in front of where he thought Ron might be, as if his action would block Ron from view. He gave the older boy a weak grin.
Viktor squinted at Harry, reached out suddenly -- in a move reminiscent of catching the snitch -- and pulled the invisibility cloak free. "Ah ha."
Ron yelped as the shimmering fabric lifted off his body; Harry made a move to grab it but thought better of the impulse and stopped when he imagined his precious cloak torn in two.
Viktor turned the fabric over in his hands, before saying, "You said you were alone?" He raised an eyebrow, then turned to lay the cloak on the large bed behind him.
Harry threw Ron an angry glance. "This was your idea," he grumbled under his breath, stealing a look at Krum, who was running his fingers along the cloak in obvious appreciation.
Ron ignored Harry. "Ahem," he said loudly.
Viktor turned back to the two boys. "You have something to say to me?"
"Yes, um, yes I do," Ron started. Harry put a warning hand on Ron's arm, but Ron shook the hand free. "The food at Hogwarts isn't bad," he exclaimed hotly.
Harry groaned inwardly, but stuck to Ron's side. He eyed his cloak spread out so neatly on the bed. Would Krum give it back? Would he report them?
Krum watched them, impassive as stone. Ron then added, mimicking Krum's voice surprisingly well, "We're not the 'good boys and girls' house!"
"You are not good boys?" Viktor said, and he shuffled back to them.
Once Krum was properly in their personal space, Harry's cock came back to life, and the air in the tiny room was suddenly thick, too thick to breathe without opening his mouth. Harry was acutely aware of Krum's scent. He must have been exercising, or flying before he found them -- the memories of Krum's performance at the Quidditch World Cup rushed through Harry -- because he smelled sweaty, with a light aroma of spicy cologne, and utterly male. The fine hairs on Krum's arm brushed Harry's as he reached for Ron's face and slid his finger along the freckled jaw. "You are saying you are bad boys, then?"
Harry could hear Ron gulp and looked down to see a considerable hard-on tenting Ron's ragged jeans. Ron's cock had to be as hard as Harry's. He desperately wanted to cup his crotch to conceal this fact, but didn't want to draw attention to it either. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and counted silently. He heard Ron mumble an answer to Krum's question, heard Krum chuckle, heard clothing shift, heard a gasp . . . when he hit twenty-five, he felt a hand curl around his shoulder.
"Harry," Viktor said with concern. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fabulous," said Harry faintly, opening his eyes. "Spiffing. Really."
"Fuck," said Ron.
Harry turned to his friend -- Ron was breathing raggedly and his body rocked rhythmically. Harry was slow to process what was happening right in front of him, but when he forced himself to look down and saw the ginger hairs around Ron's cock cling wetly and spring free with every pass of Krum's fist, he could only echo Ron. "Fuck."
Before he could say another word, Krum's hand was on Harry's crotch.
"You like this?" Viktor asked. His thumb and forefinger outlined Harry's denim-clad cock.
Ron's little noises of dismay or pleasure -- Harry couldn't tell -- were louder now, and the steady pressure of Krum's hand was almost perfect. All Harry wanted was Krum's fingers around his cock. "Yes. Please."
Viktor nodded encouragingly. "Put your hand on my shoulder, Harry. That's it. Good. Now pull your pants down."
Harry's jeans and underwear fell to his ankles. He clutched Krum's shoulder tighter when callused fingers slid up and down his cock. His toes curled and head dropped when those fingers rolled his sac.
"Fu -- fu -- fucking brilliant," Ron stuttered, and he grabbed Harry's arm, fingernails digging for obvious support. Harry gave him a tentative smile, which Ron returned weakly, and Harry grasped Ron's hip. The tableau of the three of them, connected by wet slides and knuckle-white grips, struck Harry as oddly perfect.
The air in the dank cabin was impossibly thicker; the smell of sweaty flesh, their combined breaths -- all their mouths were open -- and the unmistakable scent of sex were nearly tangible.
Ron groaned urgently, and Harry knew he was close; Ron wasn't always as quiet as he tried to be in their dorm room, late at night. He looked down at Ron's cock, and as he watched, come pumped out of the slit, covering Krum's fist in silky trails. Harry's mouth watered and he felt his own orgasm begin just by seeing Krum's two hands working both cocks so easily.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry whispered. He watched in fascination as his cock painted Krum's other hand in equally long white streaks.
Viktor smiled, and reached behind toward the bed. He snatched the cloak and began wiping his hands on the shiny material.
Ron stumbled away and struggled back into his clothes, shooting glances at both Harry and Viktor. His dark frown was overshadowed by the confusion in his eyes.
Harry stood weak-kneed, staring at his beloved cloak. He couldn't speak as he pulled up his jeans.
"What about you?" Ron managed. He gestured awkwardly toward the noticeable bulge in Krum's trousers. "Do you want us to . . . " Ron glanced toward Harry, his eyes wide.
"No," Viktor answered. "You are good boys. Run back to your tower." He threw the cloak at Harry, who caught it without thinking. "I won't tell you came into my room uninvited."
"Are we invited later?" Ron sounded hopeful, and Harry couldn't help but feel hopeful too.
Viktor pulled out his cock, fat and red, oozing precome. He settled on the black bedspread, legs comfortably sprawled out, and tilted his head to one side. "No. I like bad boys."
-The End-