A morning shag

Professor Mayhem gets a pounding

It was September 2nd. Outside the castle of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, it was still warm and sunny. The first of the green colours of the forest had only just begun to fade, and the sun was still so hot it reminded everybody of summer's joys. The unremitting singing of the birds was something the couple in the north-east tower enjoyed waking to, every morning. It was a strong reminder to the both of them that they were, despite all things, still waking up to another day in paradise. They still had each other.

They both lay still, softly coming out of their sleep whilst they lay listening to the chirping. It was a lively cacophony which was joined by a host of crows cackling and arguing over a piece of territory, and fate had it so it happened right outside the window of the sleepy couple.

Neville Longbottom rolled over and came to rest his head on his lover's chest which gently rose and fell with each sleepy breath.

“Death to all crows” he mumbled, ghosting his lips across pale, warm flesh smelling still of sleep. Eyes still closed, he rested his right hand on the flat belly of his lover, before he continued: “Every bloody year it's the same. I'll wager it's the same crows which come back to haunt us. Every single year. It's like listening to Dolores Umbridge talking with large grains of shingle in her throat.”

The large grandfather clock down on the ground floor in the living room of their flat, struck seven times, reminding them both that it was time to get up. Neville slowly got his head up from the comfy and good-smelling human pillow. He glanced at his lover and said:

“Well, professor Mayhem? It's time you go and get them!” A smile curled itself all over Neville's lips. He watched his lover's face, and how he groaned and pouted his lips, unable and unwilling to open up his lovely grey-blue orbs. The lover of so long, whom the students over the years had come to nickname 'professor Mayhem' grabbed the waist of his partner and carefully rolled them both over so he came on top of Neville. The incessant choir of birds never stopped. The lover planted a swift kiss on Neville's lips. It tasted of sleep and of dreams.

“How slick are you from last night?” Neville asked. The words sounded cheap and awful, and he instantly regretted it.

“As slick as I need to be” came the reply, not sounding as if the lover had been offended at all. In stead, just to prove how totally un-offended he was, the man on top reached between his legs and quickly found Neville's morning erection.

“I really need to pee. And the clock just struck seven” Neville swallowed, moaning quietly.

“Too bad. Not my problem” the man responded nonchalantly, like a true Slytherin. A few strokes on Neville's shaft and the Herbology professor was begging for it. He watched breathlessly as his lover lowered himself down on the beaming stake made from flesh. Outside, the bloody birds kept on shouting. Neville wished every single one of them straight to Hell and then some. He was promptly distracted as he felt the orifice of his lover touch the tip of his wand. Oh heaven! He couldn't keep his breath from hitching as his manhood then was engulfed by a sweet, incredibly warm and moving cave which immediately set a high pace, bent on drawing from him his precious white flowing gold. Oh yes, the man definitely still was slick from last night.

Neville Longbottom had come to believe that there was no Heaven and there was no Hell. Only the Fate which every man made for himself. He had taken a chance on the most unlikeliest of men, and he had succeeded. He had a life with meaning. And he was living and enjoying every moment. It was in deed the small things in life, like what he was experiencing right now, which made life worth living. To be able to awake in the morning and enjoy being the focal point of one's lover's sexual ferocity, was – well, priceless. He stayed passive, watching the blonde sexmachine on top of him ride away, ride him like wind, as if Neville was a full-blooded stallion bucking and galloping towards the sunset. The blond hair on his forehead had grown down to shroud his eyes. Not that he looked at Neville, no, the man had still not opened his eyes. This morning he preferred to lose himself in some sexual fantasy, refusing to properly wake up and face the day, and hell, Neville didn't blame him. Those unbelievable crows did everything they could to blast the mood. It was something awfully enticing about watching his lover this way. Soon covered in sweat, his lover continued to play with his hips, bucking and grinding back and forth, bending down to plant kisses all over Neville's torso. The sexual ferocity in this beast on top of him had been a bottomless source of sexual joy over the years. He never ceased to amaze the Herbology Professor. The blonde's breath was ragged now, fast and strained, but he refused to yield. His thighs were unrelenting, and Neville so very, very easily driven across the edge and headlong into his orgasm. He lay his head back and was about to breathe out when his lover was all over him and greedily kissing him, his tongue delving deep into his mouth in search for Neville's. Still warm and responsive to the ministrations of his lover, Neville bucked and ground his body against that of his colleague and husband, never getting quite close enough.

Oh somebody hex those bloody birds!

Neville opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath once their kiss was over. Thinking about how good life was to him, he immediately started as he felt greedy hands part his thighs. Before he knew it, his lover had wriggled between his knees and given the spent erection one last stroke, driving out one last large drop which immediately was used as coat.

“Aw, mate, come on. It's getting late. I still have got to pee and you – youhh, oh, oh my …!” Neville half sobbed half moaned. He opened his eyes and stared into the beautiful orbs of his husband. They spoke volumes, and they basically said: When in bed never argue with a Slytherin. I will have my way with you. Neville only smiled. There was no stopping now. And neither did he want to stop. He was fine with having his brains fucked out this morning, that was all right. In fact, he wished he could stay in bed all day with his husband, but no. They both had duties waiting for them.

Again with the ferocious tempo. The thrusts and the wonderful sensation it gave drove Neville's senses back into a frenzy. He loved the way his lover made him feel subordinate, as if Neville had been made just to please this man in bed. It was safe and delightful. He watched his lover's skin glow with sweat, bathed in the morning light. The birds were singing louder, hacking away at each other and really picking a fight over details out there. Neville did not care. It was so loud that he couldn't think, and there was no way he could focus, with this blonde, growling industrious Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher between his legs, pounding away as if his life depended on it. So caught up in his work was he, that he paid no attention to Neville and the fact that he was pounding not just Neville's backside but also his head into the wall behind the bed. Neville didn't mind. He was used to it, it was a part of the treatment. He watched the cheeks of his lover adopt a beautiful reddish pink hue as he came. Sweat poured down his temples, wetting the blond strands of hair and sticking them to his forehead.

“Say that you're mine” professor Mayhem gasped, staring into Neville's eyes. He sounded serious, and it was. It was a reassurance he always requested, once they had been copulating. And if he forgot, which he sometimes did, then Neville would spend the day being worried that their relationship was falling apart. The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor waited while he got his breath back.

“I'm yours. Always yours” Neville replied, still having his lover between his legs. He could feel the blonde's heartbeats pounding from the inside of his chest, hammering wildly. All for Neville. It was like a mini-renewal of their wedding vows. It was serious moments like these which also mattered. Which made life worth living. After so many years. After Voldemort. After Harry Potter.

Neville let go off professor Mayhem, and rested his head against the pillow once more. The professor scurried into the modest bathroom and turned on the shower, leaving behind a thoughtful Neville. Glancing briefly in the mirror, seeing his familiar, blonde hair and lean, slim body, he moved forward into the shower.

It were the older students – fifth years and up – who called him professor Mayhem. The name reflected their emotions concerning the way professor Draco Malfoy ran his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. Three hours with Professor Malfoy – one hour warm-up then followed by two intense 45 minute sessions struggling to follow orders and to keep alive through a hailstorm of spells – was enough to scare even the bravest Gryffindor out of his skin. If a student got so tired during practice that he threw up, Malfoy would be there to grab his neck and throw the student right back into the circle. He tolerated no excuses and he drove Slytherins and Ravenclaws equally hard. Thus, he earned the nickname 'professor Mayhem'.

Professor Mayhem was also known as 'professor gorgeous' amongst the female student body. In their eyes, he was everything a girl could ever want in a man; Courageous, manly, bold, outspoken, handsome and genuinely skilled at what he did. Malfoy's past as a rouge Death Eater combined with alleged bonds to a demon, made him an interesting man connected with great adventures. Whenever there was a death of a great criminal mastermind in the Daily Prophet, one would often find Malfoy's name further down on the page, or his name would be in an article somewhere during the week in connection with the murder. And it was always because Malfoy was either the killer or because the Ministry waited for Malfoy to find and kill the wanted criminal. There was always another photo of him, in flight, blonde hair flying wildly, weapons ready and with a set jaw and determined expression of face. How could the girls not love him?

But Draco Malfoy did not care. They were girls. They were children. And he preferred his adult, mature and plant-loving husband.

Coming out of the shower, he quickly dried up with a towel. Neville was already in his formal dark robes as a Hogwarts professor. He met Draco in the door, and started as they nearly collided. Draco cupped his face with both hands and planted a solid kiss on Neville's lips. It was meant to be a brief kiss, but Draco thought better of it and lingered. He bucked his hips against Neville's, grinding his abdomen against him. Still naked, Draco's pale flesh glowed angelic against the black robes, and his hands began to roam the black billowy fabric in search for a way in. Finding it with tentative, eager fingers, Draco opened the fly and quickly, his right hand disappeared inside. Neville let out a faint yelp as Draco's hand travelled into his underwear, coiling itself around his flaccid member.

“Oh, oh, oh Draco, there's absolutely no time for this!”

“Please, one more quickie, please, lovely Neville –!”

“ – absolutely not! I'm beginning to get cross with you –!”

“ – oh do! Please, be angry with me!” Draco cooed, “bad boys should be punished. Always!” Draco replied wantonly, trying to sound serious. He bent forward, and closed in on Neville's ear. “I like it when you're all emotional and authoritative. I get hard just by thinking about it” the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor whispered into Neville's ear. Seductively and slow. The blonde's lips ghosted a kiss on Neville's earlobe. When they came face to face again, Draco nodded for Neville to look down. Neville did. Oh yeah. One thought was all it took. Neville shot out his arm and enveloped Draco's erect manhood with his fingers. He squeezed it hard and stroked it once.

“We're going to be late for breakfast.”

“So? I have breakfast right here” Draco grinned widely and tugged at Neville's manhood. In response, Neville pushed him backwards. Entering the bathroom, he leaned over to the right and yanked lose the belt on Draco's morning robe. It always just hung there. Draco wore it on a seldom occasion, preferring to wander the appartment naked if he could. Neville was quick to wrap the belt around Draco's neck, careful not to tighten it too much. He could see the lust in Draco's eyes intensify at least two notches. He smiled a very boyish smile right back to his student days.

“Remove your hand this instant” Neville commanded seriously. Draco removed his hand, but the smile disappeared. He wanted his hand inside Neville's trousers. “Now kneel and kiss my boots.”

Draco hesitated, feeling resentment simmer like a slow cooking soup. Neville tightened the knot on the rope around Draco's throat. Grudgingly, the blonde bent down. This was boring. When was the fun going to start? He kissed the shoes. Neville then began to walk out into the first floor living room which separated the bed room and the bathroom. Draco had to follow like a dog, on hands and knees. Upon re-entering the bedroom, Neville stopped by the bed and reached underneath the mattress. Draco didn't wait. Instead of settling next to his master, he coiled his arms and legs around Neville's left leg, and began to grind his pelvis towards his leg much in the manner of a dog, feeling Neville up and down his thigh. It brought Neville out of his equation, but he retrieved what he wanted. Between the mattresses, Neville had hidden a riding whip which had been utilized more on Draco's backside than on the backside of a horse. Draco bit down on the cloth concealing Neville's manhood, and the Gryffindor yelped.

“Oh you horrid sexmonster!” he groaned and put the whip in his right hand. “You're going to get yours, you hear. Now, be a nice dragon and get off my leg!” Neville commanded, on the verge of laughing. The human dragon continued to hump his knee. Grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, Neville pulled Draco's head backwards as so to get his attention. “Obey me, and desist.” The intensity in Draco's eyes never fainted. On the contrary, it seemed to glow stronger, and Neville realised that Draco was having issues with controlling himself. He was getting so off by this treatment that he would stop at nothing to get Neville in the sack once more. He reached forward with the whip, placing its end on Draco's head and sliding it down across his face, across his forehead, nose and then Draco's lips, down to his chin. Draco growled and bit after the whip. Not letting go off the fistful of blonde hair, Neville spun around and guided Draco who now was in front of him, onto the bed. The blonde groaned lightly with pain. “Place your hands on the bed where I can see them” Neville said seductively into Draco's ear. The man shut his eyes and whimpered. A tremor of excitement passed through that taut frame. Draco was squatting by the bed, and now he was told to raise his arse in the air. He was eager to comply, drowning out the infernal music from the bloody crows and their followers outside their window. He shuddered once more as the tip of the whip caressed his crack. Then the first smack fell, and a wide smile spread across Draco's lips. Downstairs, the clock chimed once, announcing that it was half past seven. Thirty minutes and breakfast would be over in the Great Hall. In one hour he would be in the class room greeting his new first year students.

Lashes fell on his buttocks and the blonde felt himself harden substantially with each blow.

“Now, first of all let's just say that the bloody screeching concert out there, is your fault. Secondly, you made me come too soon today” Neville breathed into Draco's ear, sounding a bit out of breath, “thirdly, I am missing breakfast. And you know how much I simply hate to be last one out for breakfast. Fourthly, I have decided that because of these faults, we'll just have to go a little further to see you good and thoroughly punished. I'm afraid it's the big one for you” Neville said with feigned spite in his voice.

“Oh yes! Do give me the big one. I deserve the big one” Draco replied giddily, desperately attempting to sound as if he repented. Neville turned to the drawer and rummaged around in the top drawer. Pulling out a large, blue object in the shape of a massive dildo, he eyed Draco's backside. The shaft of the dildo was as thick as his wrist. The length led down to a base which would ensure that once inside, it stayed inside. It was – in Neville's eyes – a monster dildo which he almost feared, knowing that there was no way in the world it would fit into him. He had tried it, but there was no getting beyond a good third of it. Draco allowed it inside himself without problems. He was so flexible he might have been fucked by a freight train and still have been fine the next day.

Neville always over-coated things. Whether it was his pancakes being drowned in syrup, or their modest collection of dildos, Neville always put on too much, causing a terrible mess. This occasion was no exception, and Draco listened to the happy sound of the small jar of ointment as Neville commenced to coat the horrid blue thing. The sticky fluid which smelled of jasmine dripped down onto the floorboards, onto Draco's calves and his buttocks. Long, silvery threads of the substance left a criss-cross across most of Draco before the blue monster finally was position in its rightful place. Draco relaxed, put a wide smile on his face and breathed steadily. Neville was always nervous about this, though he knew that he could use considerable force when driving stuff up Draco's arse. His good-nature always got the better of him. Draco was getting impatient, craving the sensation he knew the dildo would give him. He felt it impale him, inch by inch, guided by Neville's hand. It felt oh so good to be filled up. There was nothing like it. Not even sex could drive Draco up in such a frenzy. It was the sheer size of the thing which did it for him, and he was thankful to have Neville tolerating the use of it. The blonde felt the immense thing fill him up and then slide past its thickest point, settling neatly inside him. Taking a brief second to adjust, he started and yelped as the whip suddenly bore down on his arse, sending tremors through his backside. Then the dildo suddenly went warm. No, warmer, and it fed his abdomen with a comfortable and enticing warmth. Neville had heated the dildo, commanding it to stay at a fairly high degree. Draco knew the outcome. He could feel his muscle relax and his cock grow even harder. Soon, his hole would start to drip. He would go slicker and wider than a four-lane Muggle high way. He felt how Neville took control of the rope around his neck again, pulling it tight in his fist. Replacing the whip with his wand, Neville touched the base of the dildo with his wand again, making it vibrate.

By Merlin's legs! How good that felt. Just as Draco let out a sigh, did Neville pick up his whip again. He braced himself, and hit Draco's backside as hard as he could. Draco let out a long moan and said: “Please …! More!” The ointment which Neville so recklessly had applied everywhere, splattered and rained as he continued let the lashes fall. In the end, Draco was one shivering heap of pleasure just waiting to be unleashed. His body glistened with oil and sunshine, and he let out small shudders, bucking his hips against the edge of the mattress. Neville fished out his pocket-watch. A quarter to eight. Time to end this. The dildo inside Draco still vibrated soundlessly, radiating with warmth enough to set Draco on fire. Sweat poured down his ribs and glistened in the sunlight. The crows had finally vacated and everything was quiet save Draco's whimpers. Neville hesitated for a moment. How to properly finish this? He wondered. Oh yes. The solution came to him almost immediately. Neville swung his wand, and out of nowhere appeared a blindfold. Snaking its way up Draco's body, Neville watched in amusement as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was taken by surprise. The blindfold wrapped itself neatly over his eyes. Squatting behind Draco, Neville commenced to bind the other end of the rope which was fastened around the neck of his lover, to his feet. He utilised another belt to tie Draco's hands behind his back before finally gagging him.

“Now, you will turn to face me” Neville ordered sternly. “Time is running out”. He watched Draco obey, finding his way around by moving his knees until he came face to face with Neville's thighs. Neville directed his wand against his hands, warming them as much as he could bear. He then smeared ointment all over his hands until they were really greasy and dripping. He sat down in front of Draco and took his manhood in his hands. The reaction came at once. Draco tensed, moaned and moaned again into his gag. The orgasm swept across him, beckoned by the slight touch of Neville's warm and silky smooth hands. The sensation was mindblowing, and Draco stood on his knees, thrusting his hips forward. Clenching his fingers around the swollen shaft, Neville watched with satisfaction as Draco fucked the hole he had shaped with his hands.

“Well” Neville sighed afterwards, “it's now ten to eight and we are very late. Your fault.”

“You can punish me again. Tonight.”

“Tonight? Oh, Malfoy, you're insatiable!”