Picking Up the Pieces

Warm pads of soft flesh gamboled mirthfully over my pale skin, their heat contrasting sharply with the cool air around us. I shivered and goose-pimpled in response, thousands of nearly invisible hairs standing at attention.

My lover continued to caress me, his long, elegant fingers tracing circles over the planes of my hardened chest, down the bumpy path of my ribs, until they came to rest in the silken trail just below my navel. I inhaled deeply and tried to calm myself, for I knew what was coming next. I was about to get the one thing in the world that I wanted most.

My lover's hands continued to dance in the sparse forest, his fingers playfully fluffing it's satiny down, only to smooth it flat again, flush with my abdomen. I twisted and writhed beneath him, the torment from that simple action causing my body to ache wantonly.

I was a junkie in need of a fix. I yearned to feel that familiar warmth, to have it course through my veins and spread to every part of my body, tincturing my flesh pink. I craved that high, that rush, and I couldn't wait for it any longer.

I tentatively reached a hand to my lover's head, gently tucking a wayward tendril behind his ear. His flaxen locks were soft, like threads of fine silk that weren't meant to be sullied by hands such as mine. But even though I didn't deserve the angel or the gifts he had to offer, I wove my fingers greedily through his hair and coaxed his head towards my throbbing cock.

I looked down at him, his eyes of liquid silver locking with mine. He held my gaze as he lowered his head and enveloped my entire shaft in the warm cavern of his mouth. He got to work right away, his tongue expertly switching between flicking the tip of my cock and licking its underside with long, smooth strokes.

Within moments my belly began tingling, swimming tempestuously with the promise of release. With my back arching and my fingers digging into the cool sheets below, I braced myself for what was about to come.

But just as my pleasure was crescendoing to the point of orgasm, a sharp pain ripped through my body, more specifically, through my cock. It burned into me deeply, like the fire of Hades had lapped at me with her scorching tongue. It was excruciating.

But despite the pain, I mustered as much effort as I possibly could and pushed myself on to my elbows so I could see what had happened. And when my eyes found the source of my agony, bile came rushing up my throat and ejaculated out of my mouth, covering my chest in vomit.

My lover was there, still kneeling before me, his mouth painted with blood like some morbid circus clown.

And dangling from his beautiful lips were chunks of bloodied, gristly flesh.

My flesh.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. Clutching my throat, I felt around and tried to figure out what was wrong with my voice, but could find nothing.

I tried screaming again, but realized quickly that my attempts were futile. I turned my gaze back to my lover, pleading him with my eyes to end my misery, to make the pain stop.

But he just stared at me, his familiar grey eyes unrecognizable. He wasn't my lover, but a monster. And in one swift motion, the monster slurped the rest of my hanging flesh into his mouth like spaghetti, licking his lips to get every last drop.

I fainted in horror, my head falling back onto the soft pillow below me.

XXXXXXXXXXX

When I opened my eyes again, I was for once relieved that I was still in the crazy house, still in my closet of a room. But even so, I carefully lifted the thin sheet covering me and looked down, afraid of what I might see. There was no vomit, no blood. Everything looked fine. There was only one thing left to check.

I reached my hand down, slipping my fingers under the waistband of my boxers and gently lifted. My dick was still there, whole, in all of its lengthy glory. And despite the morbid end to my dream, it was still rock hard.

Freud, Trelawney even--any one of those quacks would have told me that my dream was a warning of things to come--that it showed me I should put an end to my whorish ways before something terrible happened--before I hurt someone, before I self-destructed. They would call it an omen, something I should take seriously.

It is damn good thing I never bought into that dream interpretation shit.

The only thing I was concerned about having blue balls, and if I left matters unattended, that is exactly what I would be left with. I needed to take care of my erection and fast--and Pamela Handerson just wasn't going to cut it.

I quickly got up, throwing on the previous day's clothes as a formality. They smelled dirty, but it didn't matter. If everything went as planned, they would just be crumpled up on the floor again in a matter of minutes.

I ran to the mirror and gave myself a quick once over. Deciding I looked good enough, I skipped into the hall and down the stairs to the common room.

When I arrived, it looked as though everyone was already down there, passing their never-ending time with pointless things like chess and muggle cartoons. It was kind of sad really. But I could help them, or at least I could provide them with something a little more entertaining to do.

I scanned the room, looking everyone over carefully, trying to decide who my best prospect was. Davis was down there, but I didn’t dare go near him after our last encounter. Emerson was there too, but something in my gut told me he was inexperienced. Who knew if he would even be able to get me off?

That left a few others; Jacob, already had that, Adam, too crazy, and then there was Draco. My heart sped up a little. Should I try for Draco again? He was so beautiful, so exquisite; everyone paled in comparison to him. He was the prize I so desperately wanted, the prize the great Harry Potter deserved.

I closed my eyes for a moment and replayed the first glorious half of the previous night's dream in my head. There was no doubt that Draco had been my night-time lover. He was the one whose gentle touch had driven me mad. He was the one whose mouth had serviced me so thoroughly that I was ready to explode in mere minutes. But that also meant that he was the one that had torn off chunks of my dick with his teeth and swallowed them whole.

On second thought, maybe I wouldn’t go for Draco right away. Perhaps once I could wrest the cannibalistic image of him from my mind, I would be able to try working my magic again.

Someone else would have to do for the time being.

I looked around again, weighing my options.

"Hey Harry," Emerson called as he waved me over. "Come sit here!" And my mind was made up for me.

"Hey Em," I smiled. "Whatcha up to?" I asked, sitting uncomfortably close to him on the couch. His body stiffened immediately.

"Oh, just watching some muggle show," he said as he shifted in his seat.

"You mind leaving it for a bit?"

"Um, no, I guess not."

"Good, come with me." I smiled and grabbed his hand. His palm was slick with sweat, his body trembling slightly.

"So where are we going?" he asked nervously.

"To my room."

"Uh, wha-why are we going to your room?"

"I want to talk to you," I purred. I grabbed his hand tighter, pulling him up the stairs and down the long hallway. When we reached my room, I tugged him inside and shut the door behind us.

"Have a seat," I said gesturing to the bed.

I turned back to the door, closed my eyes and began picturing orbs of shimmering magic forming in each of my upturned hands. After getting my mind focused, they immediately began to materialize. Starting the size of peas, the magic stretched in my palms, to the size of golf balls, and then bigger and bigger until they rivaled basketballs in size. Then quickly, but carefully, I stretched the magic over the entire doorway. And in about half the time and with about half the effort I had used previously, the shield was soundly in place.

I turned back to Emerson, who had apparently been awkwardly staring out the window the whole time. I walked over and gingerly sat down on the bed next to him.

"So," I said as I reached up and gently turned the boy's face towards mine. "I wanted to talk to you Em."

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Okay. About what?"

"Do you like me Emerson?"

"I, yes...of course I do."

"Good, I like you too." I paused a moment. "Do you like me, like me, Em?" His body went rigid again. He looked at me, his eyes the size of saucers. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth," I cooed. " I can handle it either way."

"Why are you asking me this?" he questioned, his eyes turned downward.

"Because, I really like you Emerson. And....Well," I huffed. "I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"Me?" he asked, his cheeks turning a deep red. "You want to kiss me?"

"I do. Would you let me kiss you Emerson? Please?" He slowly nodded his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

I leaned in slowly, cupping his cheek in my palm, and pressed my lips to his. His lips were soft, not quite as pillowy as Draco's, but they would do. I kissed him tenderly, his mouth responding with stiff, closed-mouthed pecks.

After a moment, deciding my efforts were going nowhere fast, I reached my hand behind Emerson's head for leverage, and pushed, forcing my tongue between his lips. Emerson gasped, but the sound was quickly swallowed up by my assailing mouth.

I continued kissing him hard, my tongue plunging in and out rhythmically. And after a moment, Emerson began responding with similar strokes, his tongue darting tentatively into my mouth, exploring my lips, my teeth, my tongue. Things were moving along quite well, so I decided to try to take things further.

Breaking our kiss, I grabbed Emerson's hand and placed it on my groin.

"Do you see how much I like you Em? Do you see what you're doing to me?" The boy blushed again. "Em, have you ever done anything with another guy?"

"Um, well, no," he admitted sheepishly.

"A girl?"

"Yeah...my neighbor, she, well, you know."

"What? Gave you a blow job maybe?"

He nodded.

"And it felt really good, right?"

He nodded again.

"Have you ever thought about what it might feel like to give one? I think you would be really good at it."

"Really?" he asked. It was my turn to nod.

"I just want you so badly Emerson. You felt how hard my dick is. It's that hard because you made it that way. Something about you just gets me going. Please," I said holding his hand and pleading with me eyes. "Can you take care of it for me?"

Instead of responding, Emerson slid off the bed and knelt on the floor in front of me. He reached his hands up, his fingers trembling as they fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans. When he finally got them undone, he slid my pants and my boxers down my legs until they puddled loosely around my ankles.

He looked up at me, his eyes locking with mine as he grabbed my dick and lowered his head to meet it. He began licking me, the way a child would lick a lollipop, up and down, his tongue sticking all the way out. It felt good, and something about the innocence and naivete of it all made my cock throb harder.

I closed my eyes, enjoying every lick, every squeeze. And Emerson continued working, his tongue moving faster and faster up and down my shaft. But as good as it felt, I needed more.

"Em? Do you think you could suck on it--put it your mouth?"

The boy looked up, nodded, and then got back to work. Taking about half of my cock in his mouth, he wrapped his lips tightly around the shaft and began moving up and down. With each downward stroke, he took in more and more of me, until only about an inch of my cock was left uncovered. But that wouldn't do. I needed him to take all of me, to choke down every last inch of my dick.

I threaded my fingers through his ebony locks, gripping a large section at the back of his head. I pulled him in carefully, my dick sliding deeply into his mouth--deeper and deeper until the tip hit the back of his throat.

"Am I hurting you?" I asked. Instead of attempting to speak with a mouthful of cock, he just shook his head. "Em, can I push it in a little more?" He looked up at me, his eyes full of trust, and nodded.

I gripped his hair tightly, and without warning, thrust my dick down his throat as far as I could. Emerson coughed and his eyes watered, but I held his head in place, making him get used to the feeling. When he stopped coughing, I resumed thrusting, slamming my cock down his throat as hard as I could.

I pushed and thrusted and Emerson choked and gagged on me, his face turning red from lack of air. I pulled away a moment to let him breath, and then continued skull-fucking him. Tears began streaming down his reddened cheeks and his body started heaving each time my dick bottomed-out in his throat--but I couldn't stop. I kept pushing into him, the sound of his gagging drowned out by my own heated grunts.

After a few moments, my balls started contracting, readying to empty themselves. I gripped the back of his head with both of my hands and slammed into him one last time, as hard as I possibly could, coating the back of Emerson's throat with spurt after spurt of my spunk. When I pulled away, Emerson leaned on the bed coughing, my cum gurgling in his throat as he tried to catch his breath.

I pulled on my boxers and my pants, and then held my hand out to him, helping him up next to me. I cradled him in my arms, pushing strands of hair off of his sweaty face.

"You did such a good job," I said as I kissed his forehead. Despite the abuse he had taken, he looked up at me and smiled.

"I'm glad." he said, his eyes struggling to stay open.

"Why don't you get some rest," I offered. "You can sleep in here if you want."

"Yeah, maybe just for a few minutes." He laid down, nuzzling his head into my pillow. I leaned over, planting one last kiss on his forehead, and left him to sleep.

I made my way back down to the common room, plopping down on the threadbare couch. Nearly everyone was gone, except for Draco, who was still at the window seat, staring down at the street below. But when he saw me come in, he got up and sat down in the chair next next to me.

"So you like taking advantage of young, stupid groupies, huh?" he asked as he settled into his seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied non-chalantly, my fingers picking at the loose threads on the cushion below me.

"Please, I'm on to you. You're a wolf in sheep's clothing Harry Potter. But seeing that I denied you, who you fuck is your business, not mine." An unfamiliar, pained expression crossed his face. I studied him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but before I could make any sense of it, he had schooled his face back into the typical, haughty Malfoy glare.

"Listen Potter, I think we should meet again tonight. Talk through our strategy. I want out of here next week, so we have to get moving."

"Okay, where and what time?"

"My room, after the eleven o'clock rounds. Can you handle that?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright, see you then Potter," he said as he stood up and strode away.