Toppers Wallow

THOSE WHO WANT DRACO INCLUDED WILL HAVE TO WAIT FOR A FEW CHAPTERS

Harry had celebrated his eighteenth birthday at the Burrow with the remaining Weasleys, Hermione and the Grangers, plus the rehabilitated Dursleys. The following day he went to the Ministry to make his statement about the battle at school and to obtain his Apparating licence. He also needed official recognition of his ability to practice magic lawfully; both licences had been missed in the lead up to Voldemort’s death. Harry knew that Hermione and Ron wanted to rehabilitate Hermione’s parents first, and then to be alone during the most of August. Ginny was in a prolonged peculiar mood, not wanting to communicate with Harry, so he took himself off to his partly finished new home.



As is usual with renovations, especially one that was practically a rebuild, everything was taking longer than expected. When Harry arrived, his bedroom and private bathroom were habitable and the stairs to them usable. Someone, to whom Harry was eternally thankful, had caused his bedroom suite to be installed. Apart from the kitchen and the skeleton of his basement study, everything else was in chaos. Harry reckoned he could manage. As it was warm, if necessary, he could eat outside. He wanted to make a start on getting the garden into shape and work out where he was going to put the wards. He also wanted to clean out the pool behind to the house to see if it were still fit to swim in. If it rained, he was going to sort out his study first and then the big room in the basement, which he thought he would use as a laboratory; then attacking the barn workshop was last. Arriving on Friday afternoon, Harry expected to have all the weekend by himself, but this was not to be. That Friday, the majority of the workers left at half-past four, leaving Billy, one of the painters, who approached Harry.



“Mr Potter, would you mind if I stayed over to continue painting your house? It will earn me some overtime and give you a couple more rooms to inhabit. I’ll keep out of your way, as I have brought a small tent to sleep in.”



Harry looked at the young man, just a few years older than himself. He had red hair, but not as vivid as Ron, plus a very cuddly figure. Because it was warm, he had no top on and his low cut jeans revealed his love line almost to his pubic hairs.



‘I could fancy him,’ Harry thought, eyeing the package in front of him, his unrequited teenage hormones becoming active. “I had planned to be by myself, this weekend. However, some company would be welcome. I think there is enough food for us.”



“I brought some of my own, Sir. So you don’t need to worry about that.”



“Two of us eating separately? I’m not that churlish. At least we could combine when it comes to meal times.”



“Thank you. It might be fun, at that. I have about two hours painting to do in the dining area, and then I can relax.” Billy gave Harry a winning smile.



“Okay, sometime after seven, and we’ll get together to see what we’re going to have for dinner.”



Billy nodded acquiescence, and Harry watched a delightful bubble-butt walk through the door.



Upstairs Harry stripped completely and put on some ancient cut-off jeans. Coming downstairs, he went to the pool and started to scoop out the old leaves and other debris. Occasionally, when Billy was nowhere near, Harry would use a Scourgify to clear the dirt and mud. The result of two hours wet labour was a clean pool and a filthy Harry. As he did not fancy bringing his wrecked, dirty, dripping jeans into the house; he removed them and flung them on the rubbish pile. Scraping any remaining dirt off his skin, so as not to dirty the new carpets. Only as came through the french-windows did Harry remember that Billy was working inside. He decided to be nonchalant.



Billy watched Harry through the window as he removed the filthy jeans. Billy admired Harry’s smooth firm bum and wondered what the rest of him looked like. He was not disappointed when Harry strolled into the room; from his dark curls hung six inches of juicy prick and two enticing danglers. Billy glanced away quickly, in case Harry noticed him looking, and then had to adjust himself, as his half-boner wanted to escape. He risked another peek as Harry turned to go upstairs.



‘I’m almost sure Harry’s prick was expanding,’ Billy thought. ‘No! It’s just my imagination running away with itself. Still, it would be rather nice.’



In the shower, Harry took his time; partly because of the remaining clinging mud and partly because of his stiffy. Harry thought he had seen Billy peeping, but then he was not too sure. Hot water, soap and lascivious thoughts all worked in harmony, so Harry had to do something about it. He imagined Billy naked, he even imagined Draco, whose hands had clung very tightly and low when he was rescued from the fire. Harry did not have to pound too much, and cream soon plastered the side of the shower cubicle. He leaned against the wall recovering for a few minutes, then detached the spray and washed the evidence down the plughole. Harry stepped out of the cubicle, dried himself, put on some baggy shorts and went downstairs.



Billy was cleaning his brushes when Harry appeared, pink and glowing from his shower.



“Would you like to use the shower, Billy?”



“Yes please, Sir.”



“Let’s dispense with the Sirs. I’m quite happy if you call me Harry. I keep thinking you’re talking to someone else.”



“Are you sure?”



“Yes quite sure. Before you go up, let’s work out what we’re going to eat; then I can start getting things ready.”



Harry and Billy sorted through their food supplies. Both of them had thought along the lines of salads, so they combined their stocks and put them in the fridge. Harry set about washing the lettuce, chopping tomatoes etc, whilst Billy went upstairs to shower. There was a cold cooked chicken, so Harry started to dismember that, prior to putting the meat on a platter. He took the bones to the rubbish heap and as he returned, Billy came out of the french-windows drying himself. Harry pretended to be looking at some of the patio roses. Through the leaves, he could see glimpses of a fat six-incher as the towel flicked around in Billy’s hands. The rear view was exciting too; especially when Billy bent down to enter his tent.



The joint dinner was a success, and both had some wine with it. Harry found it difficult to talk about Hogwarts without revealing the magical side. He referred to it as college, potions became chemistry, arithmancy was maths, and history was easy. Luckily, living at Privet Drive had given Harry a good grounding in things Muggle, so most of what Billy talked about was understandable. It seemed that Billy, like Harry, had lost his parents at an early age. Unlike Harry, he had had a fairly happy childhood with his Uncle and Auntie. The firm he worked for had him painting in many locations and, being an outdoor type, Billy often camped out in the summer, in order that he could save up to buy a house. Harry had the feeling that Billy wanted his independence for some other reason, but never quite found out why.



Both feeling tired, they wished each other goodnight and retired.

It was very humid, so Harry lay naked on top of his bedclothes. The heat seemed to building up, this was not helped by hot dreams about a cuddly redhead, or a clinging ash blond and the need to relieve the pressure. The effort required had Harry sweating profusely. The atmospheric build up, like the bodily one, needed relief. About two o’clock in the morning, that relief came.



It started with a satisfying emission accompanied by some flashes of lightning, and then Harry could hear the rumbles of thunder. Next were hot rushes of wind, blowing through the open windows and floating pieces of paper off the dressing table. The next sound was the roar of the rain on the leaves of the trees as it approached. Nature’s floorshow was particularly brilliant that night. As Harry would be unable to sleep through it, so he leaned on the windowsill enjoying the cool rushes of air, the smell of fresh rain and the electric display all around him.



‘This will fill the pool up nicely,’ he thought. ‘I hope the filters are working properly.’



Just then, there was an enormous gust of wind, it brought some green leaves into his bedroom. It also ripped the pegs out of Billy’s tent guy-ropes. The canvas lifted and a naked Billy was exposed to the lashing rain. Harry saw what happened and rushed downstairs to see if he could help. Billy was more interested in saving the contents of the tent, than hauling the canvas down off the branches that had caught it. Two bare young men ran about the garden catching socks and underclothes, shoes and overalls, sleeping bags and trousers. All of the items were soaking wet and made a big soggy pile on the kitchen floor.



“Now what do I do?” Billy stood naked and shivering.



“Get dry first. I’ll lend you a towel.” Harry appreciated the view of Billy’s danglers.



Harry went upstairs and found a spare towel, throwing it to Billy as he came down the stairs.



“Sort your some clothes out for tomorrow and I’ll put them in the dryer then we can hang them up to un-crease. The rest we can deal with in the morning. I’ll hang your wet sleeping bag up in the shower to drip.”



“Thanks Harry. Shall I unwrap the sofa, and then I can sleep on it?”



“It’s either that or share my bed. It is a five foot double, so there’s plenty of room. Come to think of it, we’d better leave the sofa until all the painting is finished. So it’s floor or share.”



“I think that that’s an offer I can’t refuse. Err … I sleep naked normally. Will that be a problem?”



“Not really! I do too.”



Billy mopped up the drips on the stairs, with his borrowed towel, as Harry carried the soggy sleeping bag into the shower and hung it. By the time they had sorted things out, the wind had died and the storm passed. It was now much cooler, so some form of covering was required. They were both very circumspect when they clambered in between the sheets, trying to avoid contact, just in case the other one did not understand. Wishing each other a second goodnight, they lay down.



Harry’s mind was churning; the person whom he had recently fantasised about was less than a foot away from him. His libido went into overdrive and his cock demanded attention. Harry tried to think of difficult potions recipes, the ingredients all seemed to need red hair. He thought of Quidditch matches, but his broomstick turned into a penis with red twigs. Spells? The wand quickly transmogrified; even his imaginary quill seemed thicker and the ink he was using, an off-white colour.



Billy was very grateful for Harry’s offer to share. At the beginning he worried about his tent, then the tent poles came to mind, somehow they became rampant pricks couched in dark curly grass. To take his mind off that, he considered the light-green wallpaper for the sitting area and some of the difficult cuts he would have to make. When he returned for the next roll, it was pink, throbbing and slightly wrinkled. His own tackle had responded to his thoughts and was begging for relief. He tried to distract himself by thinking of his paint, that appeared to be creamy and his brushes became self-lubricating.



Two young men lay back-to-back squirming in discomfort and wondering what the other one would say if only he had the nerve to break the ice. Their wriggling slowly moved them towards the centre of the bed. Eventually their bums and shoulder blades touched. Each held his breath and hoped the other one would not object.



‘Is he asleep?’ they both wondered, not daring to ask.



Tentative movements had them gently rubbing their bum-cheeks together; then stopping to see if the other one was disturbed. Their feet touched and slowly became entangled, foot between feet. Billy moved his foot upwards as far as Harry’s calves. One of Harry’s feet moved upwards to between Billy’s knees. More bum rubbing took place, they pushed harder, slightly off centre, each one of them managed to feel the other’s crack with a cheek. Another pause for consideration. Each one thought he needed to scratch the upper side of his behind, slowly moving his fingers towards the other one’s skin. Their hands touched and froze, Harry moved his out of the way, but compensated by moving his foot towards Billy’s thighs.



Having found no resistance, Billy’s hand became more adventurous, slowly transferring itself onto Harry’s lower cheek. Harry wiggled his toes between Billy’s thighs and pushed his foot slightly higher, Billy separated his thighs so as not to obstruct Harry’s exploration. By that time, Billy’s hand had travelled over Harry’s hipbone and was moving imperceptibly towards its throbbing goal, only pausing when it found pubic hair. Harry’s ankle was now trapped high up between Billy’s thighs, and, as he flexed his foot, he could feel his toes squashing into something soft. Billy’s hand quivered as his fingers made the final move and started to feel the base of Harry’s boner.



“Are you awake?” they both asked simultaneously.



“Perhaps we could be more comfortable?”



Arms and legs became disentangled and they twisted to face each other, three-quarters on. Their under hands clasped and their upper ones crossed working down to hold one another’s pulsating tool. Billy twirled his fingers round Harry’s knob edges, eliciting a gasp and a spasm. Harry ran a finger up and down the underside of Billy’s cock, and had an equivalent response. Their fingers became bolder as their erotic feelings increased. Both had been holding back for far too long, so they reached their peak very quickly. A flood of boy-juice squirted in between them, lubricating hands and abdomens. Neither was willing to be the first to let go of their partner’s prick, so they continued fondling the highly sensitive engorgements, gasping and squirming in heightened lusciousness.



Their libidos wanted the treatment to continue, but their bodies needed time to search for more liquid fulfilment. Panting and twitching they massaged each other’s love-sticks, until another lesser deluge took place. As this happened they both arched forward colliding with his partner’s stomach. This trapped their members and squeezed their hands out of the way. Instead, their digits crawled over the hipbones, and commenced massaging the partner’s buttocks, thus pulling their bodies closer. Quite quickly, they adopted a rhythm of reciprocating bellies, rubbing their cocks in between them. A sexual frenzy developed as one’s spasm caused the next one to spasm automatically. They gripped their partner’s body ever more tightly drawing him as close as possible. They were gyrating in perfect harmony, groaning in the pain/pleasure of excessive lovemaking. Neither would stop, neither wanted to stop until the next mini-flood. In the aftermath, they lay and quivered against each other, not daring to be the first to quit.

Harry wanted to use a cleaning charm, but that would entail his wand. ‘I’ll wait for Billy to go to sleep, and then do it.’ He thought. In the intervening time Harry went to sleep revelling in this new closeness, with his arms around his red-headed lover.