Sadness of Eros

1

The muted, thumping bass-line of a popular dance tune filtered through the walls; it was getting late and the club would soon be full, with crowds of men spilling out onto the pavement in front and the alley at the back, making it difficult to leave unseen. Harry straightened up, flexing slightly to get a kink out of his back. A familiar wave of guilt washed over him even as his tongue made a circuit of his mouth, seeking out the last traces of semen. Last time, he told himself. Last time. I can't keep doing this. I won't.

Sighing, he fumbled in his pocket for the vial and drained the remainder. He was always careful about this. Never once had he forgotten. Half the potion before and half after. He didn't like the way its taste masked everything, nor the way it made his lips and tongue slightly numb. Just once he'd like to try this without the potion's slightly distancing sensation, but he couldn't put Ginny at risk. Not for this. And it didn't matter anyway, because today was the last time. The last time.

Harry waited through the sounds of a zip being pulled up, the stall door banging open, water splashing in the sink, footsteps fading away, before he stood up. He tucked his spent cock back into his trouser and straightened his clothes, then waited another full minute before leaving his own stall. Even in a Muggle club he never took chances. It would be a disaster if he were recognised. Ginny would kill him. His kids would be destroyed, friendships, reputation and career ruined.

Yeah. Definitely his last time. It was a relief, actually.

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