Partners

A/N: So, originally I had this whole story to go with this, but I never got around to writing it and only this part, so yeah. Also, this is my first attempt at smut, so cut me some slack. Constructive criticism is appreciated, flames are not. Hope you enjoy.

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'Why is it always raining whenever you've had a particularly long day?' Harry wondered in irritation.

After the day he'd just had, it only seemed fitting that it should end with rain. Lots and lots of rain...

"You know, it's almost not that bad." Replied the young woman-- a mere nineteen to his twenty-four-- at his side.

Alastor McLeod. His partner in crime-- or more accurately, in STOPPING crime. He'd been thrown by her name the first time they'd been introduced. After all, who knew Alastor was a girl's name? HE certainly hadn't. He'd expected to see another Mad-Eye walk into his office and greet him. Instead, he'd run into a terribly young, terribly attractive Auror that he would get into the habit of addressing as 'Al'.

"Oh, yes." He muttered. "It's a marvelous ending to a simply marvelous day."

She smirked at his sarcasm, wringing out her ridiculously long orange hair. And it wasn't like Weasley natural redhead type orange hair. It was bright, neon-glow orange hair. Nothing at all like Ginny.

'Ginny...' Damn. He'd gone nearly the entire day without thinking about her. But no, just his dumb luck that he'd have to reopen THAT wound as well.

About two weeks ago they'd had a row. A particularly bad row, as it were, and it hadn't ended with 'and they all lived happily ever after'. She'd been arguing with him over how he never talked about work. How he seemed so distant with her and was keeping all these secrets.

Which wasn't entirely wrong. He did keep secrets. God knew, he kept secrets. But they were necessary secrets. She wasn't an Auror, she didn't work for the Ministry, and half the stuff he did wasn't up for discussion with the public. And what he could tell her... Well, maybe he had his reasons for not discussing the things that were haunting his dreams at night.

Did she ever think of that?

Point for Harry. Unfortunately, he didn't win the war. He'd lost, in fact. Big time. Because she'd gotten that hurt look on her face. And suddenly turning to him, she said, "I think we need space, Harry."

Which translates to "I think we should break up, Harry" in girl-speak.

"We need time to figure out who we are and where we're going." Ginny had explained desperately. "I need time."

And Harry had just nodded mutely. He'd grabbed his cloak and left. And Ginny did absolutely nothing to stop him.

A couple of weeks later, here he was. Soaking wet in the rain heading to his loft after what amounted to as probably the worst work-day of his life (which does NOT include the days with Voldemort) as his partner sassed him. Obviously, the world was not getting brighter.

"Oy, Potter?" Alastor's voice roused him back to the world of the living. "You hear me?"

"Huh?" He asked, obviously not listening.

She blew a stray strand of orange hair from her face, and placed her left hand on her hip. "I'll take that as an 'I wasn't listening, Al'."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, Al."

She dismissed it quickly with a wave of her hand and they continued on towards his flat together. "I asked if you'd mind me comin' up for a bit."

"Oh." Harry replied as they entered the building and headed up the stairs-- Alastor was still a little iffy on the whole elevator thing. "Sure, if you'd like."

"Wicked."

They reached his apartment and headed inside. It was a nice enough place, though he really didn't spend much time there. A large window opposite the wall, a small kitchen to the right with a hall adjacent to it that lead to the bedroom. The living room to the left with a couch, coffee table and fireplace as well as a half-filled bookcase. Not many personal touches or anything.

After shrugging off his cloak and hanging it on the coat rack by the door, Harry headed towards the kitchen loosening his tie and undoing the buttons on his vest. Alastor followed suit, removing her cloak and hanging it by Harry's. Hands in her trouser pockets, she glanced about the place a bit before sitting at the counter bar separating herself and Harry.

He magicked a glass and a bottle of what suspiciously looked like Firewhiskey, beginning to pour the amber liquid. Alastor gave him a look. "Trying to get drunk there, Potter?" She inquired curiously.

“There’s only two things that’ll get this day off my mind. Getting smashed,” he raised his glass in emphasis, “or being reckless. And surprisingly enough, getting smashed is infinitely less frowned upon than life-threatening situations.” Harry finished with a rueful smile.

He lifted the Firewhiskey to his lips only to stop before the burning liquid reached his tongue. Alastor had magicked a glass her way and now held it out to him expectantly. Harry gave her a confused look, at which she raised her eyebrows.

“Didn’t you know?” She asked innocently. “You never ask for a bear hug from a giant, you never mock a Hungarian Horntail, and you never drink alone. Unwritten laws.”

With a soft chuckle, Harry nodded his head and magically filled her glass.

“Here’s to… smashing pumpkins.” She offered, raising her glass in toast.

“To smashing pumpkins.” He echoed.

And they downed the fierce red-amber liquid, emptying their glasses in a single throat-scorching swallow. Alastor choked a little as the Firewhiskey burned her insides; however, Harry gave no indication that the fluid fire had caused him any adverse reactions, and with a wave of his wand their glasses were filled again. Without hesitation, he gulped it down once more. A little more tentatively, Alastor followed suit. And as their glasses emptied once more, Harry waved his wand to refill them, only to be emptied thirstily—desperately—yet again.

In no time at all it seemed they’d had quite a good deal to drink, because they were laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, and swaying on unsteady feet.

“… So she got him a dog collar for his birthday!” Harry exclaimed between fits of laughter.

Alastor, who was very much plastered by this time, hic-upped in breathtaking laughter. Her eyes watered and her body fell to its side upon the maroon couch slapping the cushions wildly. Harry, having been seated on the couch already, laughed as well, trying to grab her shoulders and sit her upright. As he finally managed her up, their faces became close; mere inches apart.

The laughing subsided into heavy breathing that smelled of fire and liquor. Bright green eyes met intense violet ones. Harry’s hands trailed up from her shoulders to her neck, and then cheeks. Rubbing his thumb along her trembling lower lip, he leaned in. With a touch that was ever so gentle his lips brushed against hers.

And as soon as it had happened he pulled back to look at her. He was hazy with liquor, but he registered the flutter of her lashes as her eyes closed, the flush of her pale cheeks, the slight pucker of her full lips.

Moving his hands back to her shoulders he gripped her roughly and pulled her harshly forward, crushing her into a bruising kiss. Nibbling her lower lip elicited a tiny moan from her slightly opened lips. Open enough for his tongue to push through into her mouth. He sucked and played with her tongue as her hands fluttered nervously about his shoulders and chest. Some part of Harry wondered at her uncertainty, but the fire was a heavy master and he pushed the curiosity aside.

His heavy grip on her shoulders lessened and his hands traveled over her front, trailing briefly along her breasts, bringing forth another moan from Alastor’s throat to vibrate within his mouth. His hands moved to her waist slipping around to behind her, resting at the small of her back. He pulled her fiercely against him. Her uncertain hands had finally found something to do with themselves, wandering along his broad shoulders and back, at last entangling in his unkempt impossibly black hair.

As his tongue continued delving into the secrets of Alastor’s mouth, his left hand trailed from her lower back to her arse, which he squeezed roughly, to her upper thigh.

Alastor was gasping for breath, yet unwilling to break the searing kiss. When his left hand began to wander her body she started whimpering into his mouth, pulling him even closer.

Moving his hand inwards towards her middle, he eased his fingers between her thighs and pulled her legs open, spreading them wide. Grabbing her by the arse slightly he pulled her onto his lap. She immediately felt the strain of his black pants as a large bulge pushed into the soft, wet center between her legs.

Even through the haze of alcohol she knew what was happening, and her heart skipped a few beats at the thoughts that suddenly ran through her mind.

With strength and grace that seemed impossible considering the amount of Firewhiskey Harry had just ingested, he lifted himself and Alastor from the couch. She pulled herself tighter into him feeling his heated body against her even through the layered materials of their clothes.

Blindly maneuvering their entwined bodies through the maze of his apartment, they reached the bedroom. By this time, Alastor’s hands had become more curious and were currently pulling at his shirts, lifting them up to reach the hot flesh underneath.

Harry broke the kiss; causing Alastor to whimper loudly as they both gasped for air, her breasts heaving against his hard chest, erect nipples pressing into him. That’s when Harry reached back around his neck and pulled loose her hands. With a force that Alastor was surprised to find arousing, Harry threw her down onto the bed amidst an ocean of white sheets and dark covers.

Quickly he pulled off his work shirt and vest, then shucked out of his white undershirt. Alastor felt herself becoming increasingly moist between her legs as her eyes roamed over the scarred and sculpted chest of Harry Potter. With labored breath, she watched him undo and remove his belt. She licked her lips subconsciously, eyes intently focused on his fingers unbuttoning his trousers. His erection was already trying to burst from the constraints of the black material, but then he stopped.

Alastor’s eyes snapped to his face searching for the reason (doubt, uncertainty, regret, realization) behind his sudden halt. What she found was the most intense look she’d ever witnessed. And it was directed at her. Butterflies bloomed in her stomach.

With a hard swallow and a trembling lower lip, she tried sitting up and moving towards him, when she was thwarted almost immediately by the sudden pressure of Harry’s body as he crashed on top, pressing against her body in the most enticing ways. His face was again only inches from hers and she could still taste his tongue in her mouth.

She waited with baited breath for him to resume the passionate kiss they’d started on the couch, but was pleasantly surprised when Harry instead began a trail of hot kisses along her throat. His hands pinned her by the wrists at her side, as he continued his mouth’s exploration of her body.

The feel of Harry’s lips on her was burning her more than the Firewhiskey, and her body shimmered in a tiny, slick layer of sweat. Moving in the general downward direction he reached the edge of her buttoned blouse. She pushed up into him; rubbing along his hard cock still barely restrained making him groan into the side of her left breast.

She bit her lip as his hands left her wrists to undo the buttons of her blouse. Straddling her, Harry gripped her now exposed waist and pulled her body limply up to him, her back arching. He kissed her tightly restrained breasts through the thin material of her bra, and then down along her stomach. Her muscles contracted at his touch, and little breathy whispers left her parted lips.

Gently, Harry slipped off her work shirt and cast it aside to land somewhere near his own shirts. Reaching up from the small of her back to the clasp of her bra, he unclipped it with some familiarity and let her fall back onto the bed as he cast the garment aside; her orange hair splayed, breasts bouncing.

He stared down at her for a moment. Her skin seemed to be glowing almost, flickering in the dimmed lights as shadows dipped into the hollow of her naval cradled by highlights of slick skin. Bright and dark hues intensified her long orange hair into a radiance of silk fanned about her flushed face. Her eyes were between fluttering helplessly closed and snapping open, darkened by desire. She bit her swollen lower lip, and in that moment Harry felt hesitation as he realized it.

She was a virgin.

He mentally kicked himself and forced clear the fog of drunkenness—he was NOT going to be this girl’s first. Not as a drunken mess. And so he sighed. Leaning down slowly, he kissed her forehead gently before raising himself off of her. Standing, he tried to ignore the hardness in his pants. He tried to pretend that he didn’t want more than anything right now to rip off the rest of their clothes and give her something to remember her first time. Clearing his throat (as if it might clear his head) he started glancing around for his shirt. Spotting it not far from where he stood, he turned and moved to it.

Alastor’s breathing was coming in hot puffs. Her entire body was tingling with sensations that no other man had ever evoked of her. The warmth of his body… the feel of his tongue… the pressure of his body… It was enough to drive her crazy! And then—and then it was gone. Harry had gotten up off of her and was now leaning down to retrieve his shirt.

‘I screwed up!’ Alastor thought, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. ‘I did it wrong! This is what I get for being a virgin. He wants someone with more experience, I know it. Gods, I thought it was going so well…’

Sitting up, she covered her bared breasts with her arms as best she could, her long orange hair forming a curtain around her.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

Holding his shirt, Harry turned to look at her. She looked embarrassed, confused, and… guilty. As if somehow him retreating was because of her ineffectiveness. Again Harry mentally kicked himself.

“Al, that’s not it.” He said with conviction. “This isn’t because of you.”

Well, okay. It was because of her, but not in the way she was thinking. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t doing it right. Actually, as evidenced by the still considerable bulge in his trousers, she was doing quite well.

Alastor wasn’t looking at him. Her face downward. “Right.” She said and he could hear the bitterness. “I’m sure it’s because of the other girl you were about to sleep with right this moment, right?”

He sighed. How to explain? “Al—”

“Just forget it, Harry!” Alastor said, standing up angrily. “I know you! You’ll say it wasn’t my fault just to make me feel better! Well, don’t bother lying, all right? I know it was me.”

She turned as if to either storm out or find her shirt, when Harry stopped her by gripping her shoulders and turning her to him. “Al, listen.”

She shook herself out of his warm hands, but didn’t move.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

A deep rouge blush spread quickly across her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, but nodded.

“That’s why.” Harry whispered quietly to her.

She was shaking. At first he thought it from anger, but then he heard a tiny sob escape her lips. She was crying.

“Al?”

“I knew it. I knew I wasn’t doing it right!”

“Al, that’s not it!” He said. She was frustrating him beyond belief—and not just because she wasn’t getting it. “You were doing it right. Trust me, you were doing it very, very right.”

She gave him an uncertain look. “Really?”

He nodded and stepped closer. “Really.”

“Then why did you stop?”

Letting out another sigh, he replied, “I didn’t want your first time to be with someone you don’t even think of that way because we’re both too drunk to think better of it. I want you to remember your first time. Remember it pleasantly.”

A smile played at Alastor’s lips. “So if I did want this and we weren’t drunk, then we could, um, you know…”

The blush was back and he smiled. ‘So cute.’ Harry nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, if that’s what we really wanted.”

The smile was wide now. “Don’t look now Harry,” she said quietly filling the space between them. “But it looks to be like we’re both very much sober.” Entertaining her idea, Alastor lightly feathered her fingertips along the exposed flesh of his stomach, reaching farther to tease his restrained hardness.

Harry released a strangled gasp that could have been a hiss. His hands fluttered a bit as if debating whether he should stop her current tempting fingertips, or encourage them farther. Instead he let out a strained, husky voice that didn’t entirely feel like his own. “Al, are you sure you want this?”

She hesitated a moment and he could almost see the thoughts flying about her head. ‘Does he want me to stop?’ ‘Was he just trying to be nice?’ ‘Is he going to regret this?’ ‘Am I going to regret this?’ and the one he knew all girls thought on their first time: ‘How much is this going to hurt?’ He knew all of those questions were flashing through her mind—and probably a lot more—all in a matter of seconds. Because seconds was all it took for her to make her decision.

“Yes, Harry.” She whispered, her own voice a little quieter, a little more timid than usual. “I want… I want my first time to be with you. Please…”

Her voice threw him. It was so… innocent. In all fairness, he probably shouldn’t have been doing this, but the look in her eyes dispelled any concerns he might have had. He knew that look well enough: desire. She wanted this. And so what if she was a virgin? Better to do it with someone whom you at least care about in some fashion and someone who’s already had a little experience.

First times are always awkward. At least he could make her first time feel just a little better…

His hands moved and for a moment she must have been sure he was going to push her away, because when they found their way once more to the small of her back her eyes went wide and a tiny gasp escaped her slightly parted lips.

God, how he loved those lips. So soft and tender… The way they bruised so easily against him, moist enough to slide just a little against his mouth… He ran his thumb once more along her lower lip as it trembled in anticipation again. Pulling her closer and closer, until their bodies were pressing tightly against one another and her breasts strained against his chest and his cock pressed against her stomach.

She was trembling all over, shaky, scared. It was her first time and no matter how much she wanted it, he knew it was terrifying her.

‘Hmmm…’ He thought with a slight smile tugging at his sensuous lips. ‘What can I do to alleviate some of those fears?’

He leaned his head in to meet her, brushing his lips only briefly along hers—torture for him, when what he wanted was to taste them, feel them, devour them—and continued over her jaw, down her neck and to her shoulders. Sweet caresses and gentle touches of scorching heat. He leaned her back and she became limp in his arms.

Sliding her so that half her weight was supported by the bed just beneath her and the other half by the arm he still had cradling her back, he bent over her slightly, trailing his free hand along the valley of her breasts and down her taut little stomach to the waist of her pants.

He felt her clinch in excitement and anticipation as he played with the waistband, dipping his fingers in just slightly. Pulling out, he trailed his hand back up towards her breasts, squeezing each one lightly before tweaking each pointed pink nipple earning him a hitch in Alastor’s breath.

Harry grinned, leaning her full weight on the bed and climbing back on top of her, trailing his face so close along her skin that he could feel her heat—and he knew she could feel his. He reached her luscious orbs of pale flesh tipped in hardened pink points and tantalizingly teased her skin. A flick of his tongue, a gentle kiss from his lips… And then he took her peak in his mouth, sucking gently, tweaking its twin with his fingers.

“Oh, god…” she whispered, unable to contain the feeling.

He grinned into her flesh. They’d really only just begun and already she was calling out to god. It was good to know he hadn’t lost his touch…

But that wasn’t what this was about, he chided himself gently. This was about making her feel safe. This was about making her first time worth remembering. This was about making sure she didn’t wake up tomorrow regretting her decision. This was about making her feel just how good this could be…

And so he moved, reluctantly, from her breasts—which Alastor didn’t seem to appreciate either, judging by the slight whimpering sound she made from the lost contact—and continued down the porcelain skin of her belly to the edge of her pants once more. Harry undid the pants with ease, neither rushing her nor taking things too excruciatingly slow, pulling them down past her hips and knees to pool on the floor.

All that was left of her clothing was the tight pair of panties that hid what he would soon be diving into full force, giving her the feel of the word ‘thrust’. And if Harry didn’t stop thinking about these damned things he was going to find it very difficult to last—he was already hard enough to give her the roughest fuck of her life.

With a steadying breath, which he realized belatedly was filled with her intoxicating sent of arousal; Harry reached for the hem of her panties and slid them down along her legs to join their comrade on the floor.

He heard her raspy breathing and could feel her nervous shuddering and he realized she was worried that he didn’t like what he saw. Which was probably the most ridiculous thing he’d heard. She was the cutest slice of pink he’d ever seen. Her puffy lips were touched with tiny orange hairs that were darkened by moisture. And he knew—just knew—she was going to taste incredible.

“You’re beautiful, Al.” Harry whispered to her quietly, but firmly.

He heard another hitch and could tell that a nice, healthy, rosy glow was starting to flood her skin in a very enticing way.

“Thank you.” Her voice whispered quietly back.

He grinned to himself, and moved his face into the moist folds of her delicious center. She let out a scream at the contact, squirming and moving towards him, her body working with a will of it’s own. His tongue snaked out to lick along her outer walls giving him a bitter sweet taste of her juices, and then dove into her steamy, moist folds as she clinched slightly at his soft intrusion.

He moved his hand along her thighs, slipping along her juices to head deeper towards her core. His tongue moved out, replaced by first one finger, and then two. His tongue moved up to the little bundle of nerves, held exposed now by his second hand. And while his fingers were a little uncomfortable, she got used to them. But his tongue—she would never get used to the amazing, slippery, fiery, intense, flooding sensation of his tongue licking her clitoris. Nor would she ever be able to think on what he was doing with his mouth, sucking her hard as his tongue danced around her, without feeling the intense urge to get herself off.

And as she felt his fingers thrust in a little faster, and his tongue press a little harder, Alastor felt the intense build up inside of her, right where he was touching her. It was building, higher, higher, hotter, higher, until—

“OH MY GOD!!!” She screamed out into the now musky-scented room, arching up off the bed, breasts pointed to the ceiling, pussy pushing closer into Harry’s face as milky white cum flowed from her coating his hands and mouth.

For a few moments she just seemed to keep pouring out into him, screaming to the heavens as her first release ever brought on by another person swept through her in a wave of euphoria.

Finally finished, she collapsed back onto the bed, sweat covering her naked body and a healthy glow coating her skin and labored breathing moving her body in the last twitches of remembrance.

“Oh… my… god…” She whispered between heavy gasps of air.

Alastor felt a weight slide along beside her and warm, wet hands glossing over her sweaty figure. She turned her head to see Harry now lying beside her, a sweet smile on his face as his hands continued to roam her glowing body.

She felt her cheeks flush as she realized he was still very much hard. “Harry, I’m… I mean—.” She wanted to apologize, but he shook his head.

“Shhh.” He said to her gently, stroking her thighs lazily. “You needed that. You needed to know how good it can be. And besides…” He grinned mischievously. “I can wait till you’re ready for round two.”

Alastor blinked several times, a small smile timidly making it’s way across her features as the slight flush turned into full on rouge. “R-round two?” She inquired quietly.

Harry nodded, his fingers still teasing her skin. And as he continued the lazy circles she began to understand what he meant about ‘round two’. She was still tender, but that now somewhat familiar feeling of need was beginning to build within her once again. And Harry seemed to know it.

“Uh, Harry…” she whispered, closing her eyes briefly, falling into his warm touch.

Harry rolled slowly, carefully on top of her. Alastor opened her eyes and glanced up at him. He rose to his knees, one leg on either side of her body, putting him dangerously close to where she wanted him to be…

His hands—those same amazing hands that felt like fire on her skin—undid his black slacks and pulled them down along with his boxers. She watched, entranced, as his large cock flopped out of its restraining confines. He seemed to feel visibly relieved to no longer worry about the constricting torture of his pants—which he’d managed to fully remove and throw onto the floor somewhere.

Subconsciously, Alastor licked her lips, staring at the large manhood that was stiff between Harry’s legs and just above her own twitching core. Uncertain, hesitant, she reached out a shaking hand to touch him. And when her padded fingertips traced along the engorged form of his dick, he sucked in a harsh breath resisting the urge to jerk into her.

“Harry…” her voice said softly. “Do you want me to…?”

She wasn’t entirely sure how to phrase the question, but she slipped her hand more firmly around his member and gave him a gentle squeeze, hoping to get her point across.

‘Fuck!’ Harry thought rapidly in his mind. ‘She wants to jerk me off!’

He shook his head firmly, although at the moment there was little he’d rather do than have her small hands squeeze and stroke his cock until he came in a heated passion all over her, screaming her name. But no… he couldn’t. Because he had to show her—he had to. He had to be the first one there, the first one inside. To break the barrier and show her the meaning of pleasure. He wanted to fuck her, and that was about the only thing he’d rather do than have her jerk him off.

Except maybe having her suck him off…

But thoughts like that really had to wait for later. She was ready for him now, he knew. Doing it now would be best and easiest for her. And damn if it wasn’t going to feel like the tightest, warmest, slickest pussy he’d felt. And so, he grabbed her hand, but instead of forcing it off of his member, he used her hand to help him guide it to where he needed to be. Right between her legs, head poised at her slick, heated entrance.

“That’s right, Al.” He said soothingly, sensing her tension. “Right there.”

She nodded at him, looking down between them as he tittered on the brink. Their hands together were sliding his dick up and down along her juicy folds and she bit back a cry. She looked up at Harry and could tell by the immense look of concentration on his face that it was taking all it had for him not to just fuck her right then and there.

With her other hand, she reached up to caress his face, causing him to open his eyes. Biting her lip she nodded. She was ready for him. Moving her hand from his dick, he pushed the head in slowly, noting her slight twinge of pain. Placing both arms on either side of her naked body for support, he leaned down towards her capturing her gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered gently, softly.

And as he thrust his cock into her all the way, she visibly bit back a cry of pain, her eyes watering. He stilled himself immediately—a hard task considering the immense amount of heat and moist, pliant folds of tightness clinching around his swollen cock. Leaning in close to her, he whispered soothing sounds in her ear, stroking her hair ever so softly as she stretched and adjusted to his size. When she seemed a little more relaxed, Harry began moving inside her, gently. She squirmed a bit beneath him, a little uncomfortable still, but as Harry slowly massaged her wet core, she began to squirm for a very different reason.

She let out a gasp as he hit a pleasurably sensitive spot while testing her waters. Her hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him roughly, yet uncertainly against her. Harry took this as a cue to go faster. Pulling himself nearly entirely out (making her miss it so much she nearly cried) he then thrust his throbbing cock into her pussy up to the hilt making her cry out in pleasure. Again he pulled out of her and again he thrust deeply into her. She arched her back, body and mind flooded with sensations.

He did this again, and again, and again, each thrust of his rod a powerful push into her newly broken barriers. Alastor found herself pushing up to meet him, enthralled by the scorching passion and bruising thrusts of his huge cock. And as she felt the sensations build and grow, she found herself calling out to him with each thrust. Things, like, “Go harder! Faster!” or “Deeper, Harry! Deeper!” or “OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

He could tell she was close, teetering on the edge. A few more thrusts and she wouldn’t know what hit her—a flood, an explosion, a release unlike anything she’d ever felt—and if he did this right, if he timed it just so, he could cum with her. He could push her over the edge and as she fell she’d cling to him in passionate uncertainty, bringing him over with her.

And that’s what he wanted. Because it was like being reckless—diving off the edge into blissful, intense release. And no matter what he told everyone else, he liked being reckless.

“UH, UH, UH!” She screamed in time with his thrusts. “OH GOD, HARRY!”

She was there! She was right there and hell if he wasn’t right there with her. He could already feel it coming—the near painful pressure build up that came right before release. The maddening need to drive his cock home, harder, faster, deeper than before. His thrusts became erratic, uncontrolled and frantic. He needed to release, release it all inside of her.

“HAAARRRYYYY!!!!!” Alastor screamed out finally as the walls of her pussy closed in around him, clinching around his cock and milking him until he too came with a thundering yell of pleasure.

“ALASTOR!!!!”

He kept thrusting as cum drained from his rod into the still clutching form of Alastor’s cumming pussy. They kept moving for what seemed like forever—still cumming with each other, Harry’s cock spurting thrust after thrust until she was so full it was spraying out from her onto the mattress and sheets as he continued to push into her until there was nothing left. Until he was empty.

Finally he collapsed on top of her, barely enough strength left to keep himself from crushing her. They were both breathing arduously, clutching at each other in needy grasps, their bodies a mass of tangled, sweaty, naked limbs and cum-covered skin.

In the blissful afterglow of a passionate night, Alastor lay snuggled close to the naked form of Harry, draping her own nude form across his chest, one leg snuggled between his legs. She was tracing the still visible forms of scars that had long since healed along his hard, toned chest.

“Um, Harry?” She asked him tentatively.

“Hm?”

“Um, well, it’s… uh, well…” she stuttered uncertainly. “Next time, can… uh, well… can I taste you?” She blushed furiously as soon as she’d said it, but the idea of… tasting him was suddenly very arousing and she was beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t be up for a round three…

Harry looked surprised at her question. “Next time?” He inquired, not entirely sure he’d heard right. In all honestly, he wasn’t sure she’d want a next time. He hadn’t been sure he’d want a next time. Of course, after that little work out…

“I mean, only if you want to!” She added quickly, hoping that she hadn’t gone too far.

A slow, languid grin spread across his face as he once again started to trace circles along her thighs. “Taste me, eh?”

She blushed profusely, but nodded all the same. Harry grinned at her. “I think I can handle that.”