Furry Magic

Title: Furry Magic, chapter 103

Disclaimer: HP isn't mine!


Harry flipped the pages of the spellbook while he walked. Dull. Deadly dull. He sighed. After the events surrounding Dumbledore's disgrace he had promised himself he would do more to cultivate his magic in the interest of being able to protect the pride. But, it was so dry. Despite his best intentions he was looking for any excuse to set the book aside.

It gave him a new perspective on the lectures and classes he had attended at Hogwarts. He had thought many of them unendurable. But compared to this...they were top line, fantastic, enjoyable. He sighed again. How was one supposed to learn when teachers and experts couldn't find any way at all to make their subjects palatable? I mean if the experts couldn't make their favorite studies interesting, who could? Gahh. He yawned hugely, rotating his slim shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles.

He meandered down the long hall, heading for the bathing pool. A nice, hot soak and he'd feel better, the ache in his neck from bending over and reading the minute hen-scratch the author of the book called writing, had his whole neck and shoulders in knots.

He entered the bathing room and carefully set the old book on the stand just inside the door where it would be safe from water damage. He stretched as he looked around the steamy room. His eyes lit on a long, coppery swatch of hair wound into a rope and slung over a man's pale shoulder. The shoulder, beautifully muscular, belonged to none other than the pride's fierce third, Graeme. He was nude, and lay on his back, slumbering after a dip in the pool. His chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Harry eyed the furs, a perfectly Harry sized spot was free next to the sleeping man. Oh. An afternoon nap. Suddenly, that sounded so much better than the pool. He crept closer, shedding his robes. He curled into the warm side of the slumbering man, letting out a happy sigh, snuggling. Perfect. Graeme's arm went around him.

"Uhm, kitten...."Graeme murmured into the dark, raven curls of Harry's hair. Harry shivered, a good shiver and settled into the embrace, his eyelids drifting shut. Warm. Safe. Happy. Sleepy.


Hands were moving him. Arms, big and strong, lifting him. Cradling him against a broad, familiar chest. He burrowed closer as he was carried across the floor. Good smell, mate smell, he smiled sleepily. It was great to have a sensitive nose. It meant he could identify the person carrying him without opening his too heavy eyes. Lucius.

"Book...." He mumbled. Couldn't leave it here. It was old, and valuable, even if it was so deathly boring. And it belonged to Severus. The professor had loaned it to Harry with a strange look when the young were-leopard had asked for it. Harry now understood that look. He'd return the book, and then ask Snape's advice on what book or scroll to try next. Something less like chewing on sawdust.

"Graeme has the book. Sleep." Lucius' vibrant, rich voice lulled him into sleep. He faded away while being rocked by the cadence of the king's rhythmic step.

He woke to hands stroking him. Gentle hands, rubbing the arches of his feet, rolling his toes, pressing with firm gentleness, the soles of his feet, until he let out a very satisfied moan. Wonderful. There was a low laugh at the sound of his moan, and the fingers kept up their magic touch. Finding spots he had not known were sore. Working them out, moving on up to his ankles and calves. Ghod. Such. Bliss.

Those incredible thumbs worked deep into the firm muscles of his lower legs. He went limp. So, so good. Up to his knees. Done just right, rubbing over the slightly knobby joints. Harry let out a sigh of pure contentment as the massage moved up to his thighs. Not tickling, thank goodness, deep and tender and meltingly what he needed now. Palms cupped his buttocks, his lower back, finding the tension, smoothing it out.

His back, oh, it was wondrous. He was handled like clay, formed and reformed, as each tiny trigger point was discovered and brushed away, leaving him so relaxed he was caught between awake and asleep, limbs heavy, eyes closed, breath slow and even.

A small kiss, lips warm and dry, brushed over his cheek, wandered to his neck, where they lingered as Harry found the energy, somehow to arch his throat, and let the mouth find a patch of skin to nuzzle. The furs were so incredibly soft under his fingers as he fisted them in reaction to the singing along his rousing nerves. Nipping kisses down and across his shoulders. Harry arched his back automatically, pressing his hips upward, feeling thighs, large and strong straddling him, while the tongue continued it's blessed work down his spine.

Kisses and licks dotted his dimpling skin, his sighing moans coming far more often as the wet caresses woke him from his languor. Teeth joined the tongue and lips, biting just right, just hard enough to make his whole body clench, goose-flesh spread like a wave, he was so hard, straining, pressed into the luxurious furs as the tongue delved into the top of the crease of his buttocks. Velvet, moist, teasing him, flickering.

Harry felt himself opened, hips lifted, a soft pillow placed under his pelvis. Then a wet touch, licking up his inner thigh. Licks. Placed once, twice, at the point where the curve of his butt met his leg. Warm breath eddying around the wet line, cooling it. Up the back of his scrotum, soft, velvety skin tightening at the attention, drawing up and wringing a groan from Harry's lips.

He turned his head to see the gold-silver head of his king, his lover, his own Chosen, moving over his body. The pink tongue reaching out, Harry let out a cry at the sight, and Lucius' pale eyes found his. Burning, passion filled, needy, hot. Harry cried out again, spreading himself wider, dropping his head down, even as he lifted his hips, arms shaking too hard to do anything but reach out to the side, spread wide, waiting, waiting....for, oh...just that...touch...there.... Hips caressed, roundness kissed, bitten, as he was positioned. Canting them to the angle that he and Lucius both loved.

Oh, so.....Harry flushed. It was incredible. To be possessed, handled, pleasured here, like this. He felt, not the prolonged teasing of tongue any more, what he felt was heat, thickness, what he wanted, entering him. Hands holding his hips, knees parting his legs further, open without hope of defense, surrendering, the stretch, being filled, oh.... Yes. Giving in to it... He whimpered. Felt Lucius' body respond to that, to the sound, shaking, tremoring, driving in, deep.

The power his lover had, Harry never tired of feeling it surrounding him, penetrating him, to his very core. He was filled, yes, he was held, and loved, and taken until his very bones turned to water. The gathering storm of his orgasm like liquid fire, building in his pelvis sparkling, intense, growing. A clenching fist. It spilled over him, and he keened his joy, feeling the almost overwhelming bearing down, fluttering of his body squeezing Lucius, drawing a shout of release from the larger man, buried inside of him.

Then he was lifted, turned and held. Was there anything better than this? A large hand splayed across his lower back, guided him into position. He let out a gasp of surprise as he was re-entered, his body accepting the hard length, welcoming it even in the supreme relaxation of post-orgasm. He trembled, the small spasms not yet completed, made all the more intense by being stretched once more. He let out his cry of want, of re-awakening desire when Lucius rode in far, deep, with strength.

Harry bent his neck back, Lucius' teeth finding his vulnerable throat, biting, worrying it, licking away the exciting sting of nearly too much. Harry shuddering, wrapping his legs around the waist of his big lover, feeling hands cupping his buttocks, lifting, thumbs separating him, so the thrust ran to the deepest point. He mewled at that, at the pleasure cascading, not stopping, his body, his need spiraling upwards. His tender nipples found, nibbled, sucked, to aching hard tips.

Lucius smiling, but with serious, intent eyes, looking down, Harry reaching up and laying a hand, shaking, as he was taken, as his hips turned to jello, as Lucius turned his head, and sucked the younger man's fingers into his mouth. Harry gasped, thrusting up to meet Lucius' stroke, then gasped again. Fire and ice. Swirling, together. Hot, sweet, long, my, ghod, how...

Harry howled. A long, keening cry of mind blowing, body trembling, nerve sparkling, rush of tingling repeated release, washing over him, over them. Of Lucius' bass groan, of his teeth sinking into the flesh of Harry's throat, marking him, exciting, loss of all control, loss of anything that was not pure sensation.

Good. Good. Gooooood.................. Ghod. So.........

ne'ichan
faestion1@yahoo.com