War Games

They were down in a secluded corridor. Dark and musty in the dungeons, with the dull roar of the end of year feast echoing down to heedless ears. He was pinned against the wall by the larger, heavy body. Being devoured by that hot mouth and large, calloused hands sweeping his bared torso.

His silk shirt torn in tatters hanging off pale shoulders as he clung desperately to broad shoulders. His trousers in a forgotten heap at his feat as he ground his hips up into an answering hardness. His sex addled brain briefly touching on the kink factor of his nakedness against his fully clothed lover before being shattered by one of those gloriously hot hands surrounded his straining cock.

His head tossed as he fucked himself up into the nearly punishing grasp, only his lovers other hand stopping his head from cracking painfully against the stone wall. And all he could do was pant and mewl embarrassingly as he was wanked in deliciously slow, long strokes. A broad thumb occasionally sweeping over his weeping cock head.

And he practically wailed as the hand left him. The hard heat of the body retreating from him. The cruel grasp in his hair preventing him from following. All he could do was arch forward, every trembling line of him begging, screaming for his lovers touch. His only answer a dark, rasping chuckle before his lovers hand returned. This time bypassing his cock completely. Slick searching fingers circling his anus before the first gently breached him.

“Lift your leg up kitten.” The terrible carnal mouth growled through the gloom. And he obeyed the order. Bending his leg and pulling it against his chest with a shaking hand. And was rewarded by the introduction of another finger thrusting and twisting up inside him.

“Oooooooh! …Please, more…bad, naughty fingers…need…oh.oh pleaaase!” And that desperate pleading was coming from him as he writhed and twisted, thrusting himself as best he could back onto those wicked fingers. And then they were three, thrusting and filling him deliciously before twisting up against his prostrate. And he howled, blind and deaf to everything save the pleasure bursting through him in a wave.

And then the fingers were gone, leaving him groaning in disappointment before strong arms hoisted him up. And that wonderful weight was back as the larger body covered him once more. And he clung once more to those broad shoulders, wrapping his legs round the trim waist. His lovers now bared cock brushing teasingly across his grasping hole.

“Tell me kitten.” That growl again, as the mouth nibbled and sucked at the sweet point at the base of his neck. “Tell Daddy what you want!”

And that forbidden word, rasping out of his lovers wicked mouth reached deep down into a dark place within him. Making him hotter and more desperate then ever. And the words spilled from his mouth.

“Please, Daddy! Please fuck me! I need it. Need Daddy’s cock inside me. Need it filling me. So empty Daddy! Need it. Need you. Fuck Me! Merlin! FUCK ME!!”

“Good Kitten.” And then that wonderful, inexorable push and stretch as he was finally filled. And for one moment frozen in time they stopped. Dazed grey eyes being snared by intense blue. As they both let themselves feel it. “Mine!” His lover growled. Before the grip became bruising. And he was being slammed into. The strokes hard and punishing as his lovers mouth devoured his. Licking and biting away at his cries as the length inside him brushed his prostrate with each upward thrust. His cocked trapped between their bodies rubbing into the ribbed stomach still covered by the cloth of the other’s shirt.

“Oh!Oh!Oh!” He was mewling again. Making those embarrassing begging noises, that weren’t really embarrassing at all when they spurred his lover to greater efforts. Hips snapping forward and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his ears. Before the world exploded and he screamed into completion. His lover thrusting into him one, two, three times before following him over. Muffling his triumphant growl against his shoulders.

And the all they could do was lean against each other. Shaking in the aftermath and soothing each other with languorous kisses and gentle stroking.

“So good Kitten.” Ron murmured as he rested his forehead against the other’s. “Always so good.”

“Naturally.” Draco gasped back as Ron pulled gently from him.

Harry wasn’t brooding! He was just sitting outside. Alone in the dark. Thinking. Thinking really hard! It was the end of an era. After tonight he was no longer a student at Hogwarts. The closest place to a home he had ever had was lost to him forever.

OK so not really. He was staying here with the rest of the order and their families till the end of the war. But, he wasn’t going to be bogged down with technicalities at this late stage of his brood. And then there was the War Games Dumbledore had told them about at the start of the year to worry about.

Apparently the graduating years from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were going to meet at one of the schools over the first three weeks of the summer. In an idea inspired by the War Games of the Muggle military they would be sent out in school teams and try to capture the other two opposing teams. Utilizing the training they had received over the past two years.

This didn’t really worry Harry. Hell, he and the rest of the Marauders could handle the other two schools by themselves. Never mind with the rest of their year behind them. What worried him was that grouping them all together would be a temptation too great for Voldemort to resist.

Frowning darkly he took a long draw on his cigarette. Old Mouldy-Shorts had been unnaturally quiet this year. Especially considering the last two. The Ministry debacle in fifth year. When he and the Marauders had led the DA against the elite of the Deatheaters. Sirius nearly falling through the veil. Only Harry’s desperate use of the Accio charm stopping his Godfather from being lost to him forever.

Then sixth year Blaise Zabini had somehow let the Deatheaters into Hogwarts itself. He shuddered at the memory. The mob of wizards and werewolves had torn through the hallways in a bloody rampage. It had taken everything the Order and the elder students had to drive them back. The fight had been vicious, with losses on both sides. They’d only just managed to get the younger years sealed in the Great Hall. The sixth and seventh years forming a guard at the entrance shoulder to shoulder to their teachers.

But they hadn’t been able to save everybody. He remembered stumbling across Professor Flitwick’s torn body when they had been searching for casualties after beating the invaders back. The tiny professor had lived long enough to kill off his own murderer, one of Greyback’s Werewolves lying not far from the Charm’s Professor. It’s head having been severed by a charm. Probably uttered in the little man’s last breath.

“Yer broodin’ again Potter.” a husky voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, meeting Gilraen’s exasperated gaze. She stood over him hands on her hips and tapping an impatient foot. “Thought we’d discussed this. You werenae goin’ tae do it anymore, seein’ as how ye were so bad at it!” She huffed at him before plopping down next to him on the ground.

He automatically wrapped an arm round her shoulders as she leaned against him resting her head on his shoulder. “I know. I’m just ….”

“Bein’ neurotic.” Rae offered glibly. Before plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a drag herself. “In know. I’m a bit worried myself.”

“Really? About what?” Harry asked, stealing back his cigarette before offering her the pack.

“About the Old Man’s plans f’r the morn mair’n anything’ else.” She declared nimble fingers suddenly in his pocket, removing the lighter. For a moment the light highlighted her face. Her eyes looked black in the shadows and her skin unnaturally white as the cherry glowed in the flame before she flicked the lighter closed and returned it to his pocket again. “Ye look up Tacky an’ Gaudy in a Wizardin’ Dictionary an’ there’s Ol’ Dumbles grinning up at ye like a loon! Can ye imagine wha’ the ‘Special’ mode o’ travel he says he’s arranged is gonnae look like?” She exclaimed with an exaggerated shudder.

Harry couldn’t help the smirk, letting himself be distracted from his dark thoughts. He blew smoke circles into the air, staring at the Castle’s silhouette in the distance. “Think it’s going to be bad do you?” He drawled, amused.

“Knowin’ the Ol’ Man we’re probably gonnae end up travelin’ in this huge silver cloud wi’ rainbows and glitter spoutin’ all ower the place. An’ bein’ dragged by a fleet o’ dragons, Norbert leadin’ the way!” Rae groused darkly. Suppressing a flash of triumph as Harry’s rare laughter burst out. She smirked up at him.

“Been giving it some thought have you?” He chuckled.

“Mair like havin’ nightmares.” She retorted snuggling closer. Trying not to sigh at how oblivious the Boy Who Lived was, and relishing the weight of his strong arm around her. They both looked up as a movement by the castle drew their eyes.

“I wonder who they think they’re fooling?” Harry muttered as they watched Ron make his way to the Gryffindor tower with a telling bounce in his step. His only reply a snort of disgust.