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Harry picked his pen off of the floor, mercilessly banging his head on the corner of his desk. “Ow, ow, bloody bollocks, ow,” he cried, clutching the back of his head.
Flushed, he cleared his throat and sat up, rolling his chair closer to his desk and glancing up to the glass door to see if he had taken notice of his additional blunder. Fuck, if he made one more mistake, he didn’t think he could handle a mercilessly, withering glare from the most uptight prick of Corporate Hell ™.
These past few weeks had been awful for him. First, he handed his reports in late by a mere five minutes, subjecting himself to a shameful three minute admonishment from an unfairly blessed asshole given a human body.
Then, he lost his favorite scarf when he missed his elevator to the daily hands-on meeting, where the bigwigs of the Department of International Magical Cooperation muttered about whatever France was doing for some sort of cooperation that Harry was severely underpaid for but still required to sit and look pretty for as an excuse for a “united front” whatever that meant.
At least he got paid for smiling rigidly when he could be making proper use of his time writing away the strategies for magical beast cooperation between Wizarding Britain and Egypt. And he really needed to empty his bladder in the long three hour conversation between old farts.
And then most recently, the weekend before, his recent hookup, a well-endowed seeker from the Tutshill Tornados had Flooed over to his home. And in the middle of a slightly above average hookup, that awful bloke went limp and started weeping about his latest breakup from a long-term relationship of seven years. And of course, being the considerate person he was, Harry consoled him awkwardly (dick still in arse, mind) by patting his back and his sheets getting stained wet in the wrong sort of bodily fluids.
Why couldn’t he have ended his below average week with a nice, coupled orgasm? Was that too much to ask for?
And now, Tuesday into the office, Harry had been victim to the reorganization of IMC’s corporate roles, landing him smack dab sitting right across the most unfairly attractive and stone-faced boss from hell, Tom bloody Riddle.
At least he had the opportunity to sneak a peek at Riddle’s pretty (and hateful) face through the frosted glass of corporate hierarchy. It was fine, Harry thought, he was probably karmatically balanced out with a two incher anyways.
And like his mind’s thoughts had carried over to Riddle’s head, he heard his name being called out for the fourth time in a row. “Mister Potter, carried away again?”
Harry tilted his face up and forced out a tight smile, “Yes sir, apologies. What did you need?”
Riddle strode over, tossing a stack of what, 200 papers, onto his desk. “Fill these out by the end of the day; I expect to see them complete by the next time I come into office. And pray, please avoid making improper changes, or I will have to meet with a band of Americans up my ears for your mistakes. Again.” And of course, being the nice and generous manager he was, seemed to leave another notebook of form policies on his desk. Oh! How blessed he was!
“Yes sir,” Harry tightly muttered, watching the back of his boss walk away, robes fluttering unfairly handsomely away from his cubicle. He groaned in frustration, pushing his hair away from his face and rubbing at his eyes. Awful, inconsiderate arsehole giving him more work to do at 5:30PM. Why couldn’t he just waste away and look busy while doing nothing? Merlin, he really needed a raise.
Honestly speaking though, Riddle wasn’t the worst boss he could have. Given the corporate reorganization within his department, Harry wasn’t in a terrible spot to complain.
He should be grateful that he didn’t end up like poor Bernie, his old deskmate, who ended up having to toil under Umbridge, the other executive director that could only be countered by Riddle.
About Riddle, Harry always enjoyed sneaking little glances over when he would walk by. His well-fitted, tailored robes always complemented his tall figure, his hands were neat and manicured (honestly, so many of the people he had ever checked out lacked the art of trimming their fingernails), and his face was heaven-sent. Well, maybe he’d level his face up to “angelic” if Riddle didn’t look like had ten pounds of alder wood stuck up his rear every time he glanced over at Harry’s general vicinity.
On the bright side, being under Riddle– and he wished it was figuratively– wasn’t the worst position he could be in. He always did seem to look out for his direct reports, presenting a united front of Wizarding Britain against any nastily barbed passive aggressive comment from another country.
Unfortunately, the office gossip mill had it true that Riddle seemed to enjoy handing out a lavish feast of boring documents for his underlings to read through in detail, quality check, and present on.
Riddle really often interacted with his other peers in a much icy, professional way than when with Harry. And how lucky he was for this? Potter luck strikes again!
Harry was a fortunate man. After graduating from Hogwarts in the smack-dab middle of his class, he managed to secure his foot in the door in international strategy from Hermione’s ex, Victor Krum, who was a kind enough gentleman to remain Quidditch buddies with Harry after their amicable breakup. Harry was just happy that he had Krum and a few others he played Quidditch with (including Ron, surprisingly who eventually got over Hermione and Krum being together for a few months).
From that hobbyist league they formed, Krum had suggested that his cousin’s girlfriend was looking for someone to replace her position at IMC following her sabbatical to Thailand. Harry, desperate to make money and actually afford his rent without relying on his family’s trust vault, agreed immediately and after a fortunately timed absence on Umbridge’s spot on the interview panel, secured employment.
His job was actually quite interesting. Thankfully with the shift in organizational structure exactly two months ago, Harry had the chance to keep his responsibilities at a higher title. From reviewing the most recent documents coming from the British Magical Creature Regulations department to creating a plan to secure strategic animal-based potions materials from Brazil, Harry could say that he was decently good at what he did.
However, his love life couldn’t be described so positively, blemished with various ups and downs. At Hogwarts, Harry had dabbled in trying to find connections- from almost stumbling into a throuple situation with now-engaged, absolutely stunning couple, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, to trying a relationship with Ginny and breaking up a few months later. Following graduation and awkward interactions with his exes that he now had great, platonic relationships with, he’d tried for a few dates with a few folks.
After a particularly miserable breakup with Ara Vail, a gorgeous, long-legged brunette from the Harpies (sorry, Ginny) who couldn’t stand Harry’s obliviousness and apparent stubbornness, Harry had sworn off of trying to find a serious relationship.
Three months of nesting within his couch surrounded by a variety of takeout boxes really departs some not-so-great damage to a bloke’s dignity. From then on, Harry had only stood for a few one night stands here and there, no stellar experiences, and only rather mediocre tug-offs.
After wrapping up his work at 8PM, Harry shuffled out of his office, prepared for a night of cozy hot chocolate, fluffy socks, and enjoying the pasta he’d planned on preparing after Neville had dropped off some fresh basil and pine nuts the other day. Waiting for the lift which often took a while to arrive, Harry’s neck prickled as Riddle walked up from the corner of his eye.
“Mister Potter- please do not forget we have a scheduled face to face with the Brazilian Cooperative Potions Regulation authorities tomorrow. Did you finish the report that I’ve assigned you?” Riddle didn’t even bother glancing at him.
Harry hoped he wouldn’t be assigned more work and replied, “Yes, sir, everything has been wrapped up. I’ve completed the final quality assurance report that you gave me earlier.”
Riddle nodded his head not even bothering to spare him a reply.
If he was a little less of a frigid brick of a man, what I wouldn’t do to climb him like a tree, Harry thought, glancing at his boss and giving a nod. Something seemed to flicker in Riddle’s gaze as he strode forward into the elevator, robes fluttering behind him.
“Have a good day, sir,” Harry swallowed and left for the apparition point.
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He casually scrolled on Wandr, swiping as he noted the plethora of users with variations of HungDaddy69. Harry grimaced as he came upon an account with the bio “My wife doesn’t know I’m here. Looking for a cute bubble butt to breed ;).”
He groaned, murmuring, “Fucking disgusting,” as he exited the app.
A notification popped up.
Are you on here often? The chat icon only included a black and white snapshot of a jawline and neck.
Raising an eyebrow, Harry typed back.
did u seriously think that would work lol stop scamming imbeciles
Rude. I’d expected a better response from someone with Quidditch and animal lover in their profile.
Its pretty obv that ur a scammer gtfo im not wasting my time on you
Seems like you already are. Too much free time on your hands?
When r u supposed to ask me to send u 200 galleons
Even after our third date, I wouldn’t ask you to send me anything. Cute when you’re mad, aren’t you?
Itd be cuter if u actually proved u dont j want my money lol. Cant trust someone who uses a fake pic like urs. No one actually looks like that irl
It took a few minutes for a reply to come back. Harry had already started on his pesto when a buzz came from his phone. A picture loaded on his screen, with a handwritten note stating ‘Promise I’m not a scammer” raised next to a lovely looking jawline.
Lmao ok. Not looking for hookups rn if thats what ur here for.
No good experiences?
Awful the last bloke cried on me
Well my goal would be to make you cry in bed.
not interested busy making dinner
Most people would be happy if they received my attention. I’m surprised you aren’t.
Full of urself arent u? Good for u i guess
But I could make an exception for you.
Rolling his eyes, Harry left the message on read. Honestly, the nerves of people nowadays. What a pompous prick. He’d rather finish his pasta and watch whatever was running on the telly. Curse his boring job and his boring love life and his endless existence.
Maybe he should adopt another pet, as he gazed forlornly at the stand that Hedwig used to occupy. Sniffing, he flicked his wand and flipped to the latest streaming show “Wandering Woes.”
He didn’t really care for Lockhart’s narrative voice, but he did have to admit the enemies to lovers story wasn’t the worst thing he’d watched. He couldn’t complain about the dark haired lead either- though his stature couldn’t compare to Riddle. Ah, he was hopeless!
_____________________________________________
Bored of life and full of trashy dramas, Harry had been responding to the “real” scammer (if he wasn’t a scammer, he was definitely a catfish). Merlin’s best conjuring work couldn’t even create a wizard so striking to truly spend time on the app. Surprisingly, the scammer kept up a good conversation.
When bored on his lunch breaks, Harry decided to continue messaging the scammer. He was truly his only worthwhile entertainment at work besides staring at Riddle’s arse.
He really did miss striking up side conversations with Bernie. The last time he had managed to even converse with him had been a few weeks ago in which Bernie had approached him with dark eye bags as large as hippogriff dung and commiserated with him over the intense amount of work that they were both being assigned.
Leaning back in his chair and refusing to exhaust his social battery in the buzz of the Ministry cafeteria, Harry grabbed a peppered turkey sandwich, peeling back the oily wrapper. Opening up his MagiPhone, Harry resumed his scrolling– turning his screen brightness all the way down as he opened up Wandr.
He did receive quite a few messages, along the lines of “open 2 hosting?” “u down for sum dirty daddy dick” “ass. Show me ur ass” “pics?” “pics?” “pics?”
Now he didn’t feel entirely desperate enough to truly reply to any of the messages with any real thought or purpose. Flicking over his phone, a message popped up from the scammer. At this point, if this person was real, Harry would be down for anything compared to some of the people on the app.
Feeling in quite the sexual rut and bored from the overwhelming American paperwork, Harry opened the message. He really didn’t quite understand why the person kept texting him when he left quite the dry responses.
Would you be open to grabbing dinner/drinks at the end of the day?
Slightly stunned at the request (he really didn’t expect anything out of his back and forth; plus he was really feeling quite motivated to delete the app), Harry accidentally dropped his phone as he took another bite of his sandwich.
“Bugger,” he swore slightly under his breath. “So sorry about that, mate!”
He reached forward to grab his phone, which had landed at the feet of some familiar leather oxfords. He tilted his head up, nose grazing the fine fabric of the wizard’s robes, and made eye contact with none other than Riddle and his stunning features.
Ah shite, if only they were in the bedroom instead. Harry flushed, cleared his throat, and stood up- clumsily stuffing his phone back into his pocket.
“Apologies, sir!”
Riddle seemed to look at him for a second too long, nodded his head, saying, “Good day, Mister Potter.”
Well, he really did seem to be in a better mood than usual. If this were to happen to some other fellow, Harry couldn’t imagine the tight smile and shame that would have clouded his chest on another day.
Well, nothing to idle on. He pulled out his phone again, finishing the last bite of his sandwich– there were really only three bites to be had of this cheap canteen lunch– and texted the person back on a whim. So let it be! Live and explore a little, as Hermione and Ron keep suggesting for him to do.
Wow rly? Sure- when n where?
Wisp and Thistle at 7. I’ll meet you at the bar.
Mate thats kinda fancy. U treating me? Lol
Never had a real man? I’ll see you tonight.
Harry scoffed, indigantly typing back. Lol i wont complain if it’s on ur dime! C u later 😛
This person really seemed quite presumptuous. Oh well, he just needed to finish a few reports and dish out a few meetings, and he could get a free fancy dinner! Although he really did need to change out of his robes if he was to meet this person at this upscale area.
_____________________________________________
5:30PM. Another fucking stack of reports on his desk. One and a half hours left to go to this restaurant. Harry really hated his boss at this moment.
Curse Riddle! Curse Riddle and his ridiculous pouty mouth and lovely face that he really couldn’t get mad at or resent!
6:45PM. Shite shite shite, Harry lifted his arms up, giving them a quick check sniff. Alright, he couldn’t floo back to his flat, but it would have to do. He ran to the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and ran some water through his hair and onto his face. Slightly rumpled robes, but it was probably just a nice hookup anyways.
Striding out to the floo system, Harry waved at Chris, the floo attendant that he saw every day after work.
“Have a good one mate! Tell Cherise and the kiddos that I say hi!”
Chris nodded back cheerily, “See you on Monday! Will do, thanks Harry.”
Harry let out a breath, going into the Floo, whirling away. At this point, the floo was only mildly irritating, AND he did have practice over the past few years, so he landed smoothly at the exit. Brushing the floo powder off of his robes, he stood and apparated to the street in front of Wisp and Thistle.
Striding to the hostess, Harry indicated that he was going to the bar area where he saw a few people milling about. He’d never been here, but he had heard quite amazing things about the restaurant– notably the price, of course. The dimly lit area and the gilded decorations were definitely out of his comfort zone. He took a seat, pulled out his phone.
Where r u or are u standing me up?
He bounced his left leg, waiting for a response and pushing his hair back.
“Now why on earth would I be standing you up?” A smooth, deep voice filled his ear, flushing his neck and he turned around.
_____________________________________________
What the fuck? He ended up looking into the dark grey eyes of none other than Tom Riddle, crick in his neck of his workplace existence. Riddle’s face froze, his head jerked back, and his land lifted off of Harry’s shoulder.
“Mister Potter?” came at the same time Harry gave a slight yelp of “Riddle?”
Shocked, he blurted, “What the bloody fuck are you doing here?”
Inconsistent to how he usually appeared, a slight pink warmed the high cheekbones. Riddle looked terribly off-kilter– Harry could tell, compared to his usual expressionless face, his eyebrow had a slight furrow and his mouth slightly skewed. “Well, I had arranged for a meeting here. I don’t seem to know where my engagement for the meeting is, but I must have mistaken you.”
Harry donned a respectable face (well hopefully it looked more nonchalant than what his brain was spinning) and looked him in the eyes. “Well, yes sir, I think you must have mistaken me for whoever your companion for the night is.” He looked away at the bartender, looked up again to meet Riddle’s slightly strange-looking expression and thought ‘fuck, I should’ve known I’d be stood up on Wandr.’
Clearing his throat, Harry stood from the barstool, collected his items, and inclined his head.
“I must have mistaken my plans to be somewhere else,” he smiled wanly. Pushing his seat in with a terribly loud sound, contrasting terribly with the soft jazz of the ambience, Harry started off, towards the entrance hurriedly.
A strong hand cupped his not his shoulder again, but his waist. “Hold on a minute, I think I did find the right person.” Riddle grabbed firmly, turning Harry around to face him. Looking slightly down, his gaze strode across Harry’s features, and his fingers reached up to hover to meet them.
His voice pitched lower, questioning, “Did you really think I was out to lead you on, Harry?”
Harry jerked back, face flushing and ears tingling.
“What?”
“I think you know what I mean.”
Harry looked to the side, away from the intense gaze and away from his improper desires. “Forgive me, sir, I really do think you might have the wrong person. I really should go now.”
Riddle’s hand dropped, but the air still felt staticky and warm from where his body heat was. Never had Harry felt this off in recent years. The room felt almost hot, and his heart thudded rapidly in his chest, threatening to almost spill out its traitorous secrets.
“We really shouldn’t do this, sir,” he muttered. “I know that I haven’t always been the best report, but I don’t think you should be playing these games with me. I know you don’t think I’m the most competent, but I’m not as dimwitted as you make me out to be.”
Harry felt something rise up in his throat. Did Riddle honestly think that he was fun to play with? To lead on? He must have been trying to do something wrong. Riddle and his uptightness and his icy stare would never grace Harry.
His thoughts seemed to race at a thousand miles per minute, until interrupted by another hand on his own. Merlin, what was happening with all this contact? He didn’t think he’d been touched by another person like this maybe in the past six months.
Looking up, Riddle stared into his eyes. “I do know what you’ve been thinking about me. Trust me, it has been rather hard to hold back when you keep looking at me with those eyes.”
“I would like to admit that I did have quite a bit of fun when you have been messaging me these few days. Maybe the most entertaining thing that I’ve been enjoying for a while.”
“I mean I really haven’t been doing much. I really did think that you were a scammer?”
A slight chuckle, and Riddle led him back to the bar. “Now, at least let me get you a drink.”
Harry wavered for a moment. “Well, I suppose so.”
Riddle called over the bartender, who after a few moments slid over two drinks. Harry dipped his head in thanks, “Well, at least drinks can be expensed tonight!” He tried to feel a bit lighthearted, but couldn’t help but feel let down that this would’ve never happened in any other scenario.
“I’ll have you know that you really shouldn’t worry about anything improper happening,” Riddle said.
“I mean I never thought about you in that way, sir, please don’t worry. If anything, y’know, I’ve just been texting and not doing much on that app. Also, I completely understand if you would like me to move under someone else because this really might be quite improper, but I don’t want to ruin my performance or have this marked in my records, so–”
“Harry,” Riddle interrupted.
Harry paused in his muttering, eyes flickering as he registered his first name out of Riddle’s – Merlin, gorgeous– lips.
“I’ll have you know that I was going to be notifying you and the rest of the team of my leave. I’ll be transferring into a separate position for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, accompanying the Minister for several of our American initiatives and into other countries. So truly, I must admit that I know what you’ve been thinking, and all the work that has been pushed onto you has been due to this transfer. I’d truly want to see if things can occur between us, and if you are interested,” Riddle explained, as he took a sip out of his glass.
“Really? I mean sir, that’s amazing! Congratulations!” Harry explained, sitting up straighter.
“Truly, and I am terribly, well quite positively, taken aback by tonight,” Riddle nodded in agreement, “Thank you as well for all your work.”
Harry flushed again, Morgana, for the probable tenth time that night, “Well, you do deserve it, and sir, it was great working with you in the interim.”
Riddle let out a sharp laugh. “I know everyone dreaded working with me. I have noticed quite a few withering gazes from you, and maybe not only withering, but something else as well.”
“Well I certainly don’t think it was too obvious!” Harry grinned, feeling slightly more eased into the conversation. “You really are quite admirable, and I do wish you the best of luck. Thank you for the drink sir, but I do believe I may have overstayed my welcome.”
Riddle shook his head. “Not at all, Harry. May I call you Harry?”
A nod escaped Harry.
“Call me Tom. Let us chat more at my place?” Riddle arched a fine eyebrow.
Fuck it, I guess. Harry brushed his curls back. “Alright, sure. Maybe I can see why you haven’t been milking me of my money.”
Riddle laughed, collecting his outer robes. They walked to the entrance of the restaurant. Riddle looked at him, almost slyly, and apparated them away.
_____________________________________________
They appeared on a dimly lit street, in which a large manor sat, outlined by the shadows of hedges and floral shrubs. Tom led him inside, his hand wrapped around Harry’s waist again, into the arch of the entryway. Without a moment to even admire the fine interior of the manor, Tom cupped Harry’s chin, tilting his lips up, and capturing Harry’s with his in a soft kiss.
The two drew apart, eyes making soft contact. Harry sucked in a breath and grabbed Tom’s hair, crushing their lips together again, his lips opening and meeting Tom’s. Their mouths intertwined in a tangle of wet heat, teeth grazing lips in a messy collision.
They broke apart, almost panting, rejoining as Tom pushed his outer robes off in a hurry, derobing Harry as well, and led them into another room with a large, draped bed.
Tom pushed Harry against the wall, almost crushing his lips with a passion that left Harry heated and tingly. His tongue pressed against Harry’s, plush lips grinding against Harry’s slightly chapped ones. Drawing back, he started unbuttoning his shirt as Harry hurriedly divested his own as well.
His slight stubble rubbed against Harry's cheeks, as he reached down and unbuckled Harry’s slacks.
“Tom, I really should let you know–” he broke off as Tom collided with his lips again, giving him a bite on the lip as he reached his fingers down and, oh!
His long fingers brushed against his folds, juices feeling like they’d stained the inside of his briefs. Tom reached down, pressing two of his fingers into Harry’s insides.
Harry let out a strangled whine and gasp, thighs spreading open and calves tensed as Tom continued to kiss him as his fingers curled inwards, pressing into Harry and creating a shot of electricity up his spine. Harry arched his back, legs feeling slightly weak as he moaned. He breathed against Tom’s mouth, his lips feeling raw from his bites as he let out brief whimpers and Tom’s fingers curled inside in a rhythmic pattern, punching out obscene sounds from Harry.
His fingers came out, dripping with slick, a thread of wetness connecting and breaking, and Tom stuck those fingers into Harry’s mouth. Harry sucked on those two, tongue twirling around Tom’s fingers, tasting the mild saltiness of his own pussy.
“Fuck,” Tom let out in a breath, slightly leaving a gap in between the two as he breathed out, moving backwards to let his gaze trail over Harry’s disheveled figure. Harry suddenly felt so exposed, Tom’s slacks out as his were unbuttoned and slightly down his legs.
Tom guided Harry to the bed, pushing him down onto the bed, as Tom lifted his legs up to drag his slacks down.
“Socks off?” Tom questioned, wryly smirking.
“You berk, you get me fully naked or not at all,” Harry huffed out, grinning as Tom took those off and put them into a neat pile on top of his slacks.
Tom kissed his toe, his foot, his ankle, slowly trailing his way, pressing kisses into the inside of his leg, up his thigh. His pace slowed down as he pressed wet kisses around Harry’s folds, almost teasingly within reach, yet paced so it felt like eternity before he even went in. Tom dove down, almost tonguing his cunt like how he kissed him in the hall, deeply. With an obscene slurp, Tom sucked on each of Harry’s labia, like a man on his knees before his last meal.
He hiked Harry’s legs up onto his shoulders as he licked his clit. Harry arched his back, hands clutching the sheets as he arched his back, calves tensing as a shot of adrenaline hit him, arse pressing into the bed as Tom continued like a man starved from thirst, licking his cunt like a specially prized elixir. His pussy seemed to drip with wetness, and his hole pulsed with arousal. He felt flushed from his head to his toes as Tom relentlessly ate him out. His legs shook, and every lick seemed to draw him closer as his eyes began to roll towards the back of his head.
Tom freed his cock from the confines of his slacks, fingers wrapped around his own cock as he pumped his wrist, timing his slight thrusts to every lick. His tip stained the draped end of the bedsheet, leaving a stain as he continued, almost moaning into Harry’s pussy and thrusting forward in anticipation.
“Let me fuck you, Harry,” Tom withdrew from Harry’s cunt.
“Get the hell on with it then,” Harry gasped out, legs spreading even wider, preparing for Tom.
“Impatient, aren’t we? Maybe I should leave you like this,” Tom said.
Harry sat up, abdomen flexing, as he pulled Tom up to meet him. “Please, please, c’mon. Fuck me like you mean it, won’t you?”
Tom met his lips again, smiling, “As you wish.”
The head of his cock glided across Harry’s cunt, meeting his wet, debauched folds, spreading them open, and open up to his clit. Harry let out a moan as Tom’s tip rubbed against his clit, pleasure spiking as he continued rocking against Tom’s dick, coating the man’s erection in his own juices.
He felt debauched and open as he moved his hips up, coaxing Tom against his entrance. Harry whined, feeling his tip breach the entrance of his pussy, opening that hole, which arguably was the best feeling of the entire night. As Tom pushed him, Tom let out a moan, cock feeling wrapped by Harry’s velvet heat. His cock opened Harry’s insides, widening and stretching his cunt out as the two of them pressed against one another.
Harry’s pussy almost felt stretched to the limit, trying to accommodate Tom's girth. Tom suddenly thrust in all the way almost to Harry’s cervix, punching out a loud moan from Harry's reddened and bitten lips. His balls pressed against Harry’s ass, his hips flush against Harry’s as he rocked in and out.
Harry’s cunt clutched against Tom’s dick, the indecent squelch of his pussy continuing as Tom fucked in and out of Harry’s mody. His arms wrapped around Tom’s shoulders, and he pulled him into a kiss as Tom continued to intentionally drag his cock in and out of Harry, producing a shiver of pleasure in his spine and he continued thrusting.
His pussy felt raw, open, and begging for Tom’s length, producing an obscene amount of slick and wetness as Tom continued almost harshly fucking into his cunt.
“Fuck, take me, Harry. Opening up like I’d always imagine you would. So fucking desperate when you have my cock inside of your needy hole,” Tom grunted as he continued pumping.
Harry could hardly speak, body rocking as they continued, intertwined.
Tom suddenly pulled out, flipping Harry over and onto his knees into pronebone. His forehead dripped sweat from exertion, a few droplets onto Harry’s back as he guided his cock into Harry’s lips from the back. He licked the back of Harry’s neck, biting his salty skin and marking his neck up like a possessive man in heat.
They let out loud grunts as Tom pushed himself into Harry. At this point, most thoughts had fled Harry’s mind as he felt drool collecting in his mouth like a mindless body collecting all the desire and lust between the both of them. His body felt wracked with pleasure and his pussy kept clutching at Tom’s dick, lewdly producing shlick, shlick noises. Tom pounded into Harry from the back, clutching the back of Harry as he pushed him into the bed, pressing his cock into Harry deeper until it felt like he was almost fucking into his stomach, his penis defiling his body.
“Please, please, please. Fuck, keep going, please, Merlin,” Harry whined.
“Not another name in your mouth unless it’s mine, Harry,” Tom growled into his ear as he kept going like a relentless machine.
Their bodies stuck, skin sweaty against each other. Harry felt a crest of pleasure building up into his stomach. Tom fucked into him, one hand with fingers digging into his sides, another one pressing Harry’s into his own back and bending his arm.
His balls slapped filthily against Harry, juices coating Harry’s thighs. Harry gasped and his body tensed, as he felt a tide of pleasure rising, peaking as he moaned, cunt clenching in pulses and fluttering around Tom’s cock. He felt a flush of liquid squirt out, staining the bed and onto Tom as he felt spittle pooling into the other corner of his lips, eyes rolling back and thighs quivering.
His torso almost fell limp into the bed as he felt Tom pull out slightly, a gush of warm liquid lining inside his cunt. Tom pulled out completely, and his cum dribbled out of Harry’s pussy, leaving him in a pool of his own and the other’s fluids. His cunt pulsed against nothing, almost gaping from the withdrawal of Tom’s cock, seemingly eager to keep going.
Tom knelt down, his tongue dragging to capture Harry’s cunt against his mouth again, tongue dipping into his own and Harry’s wetness, licking Harry clean.
Harry let out muffled moans as Tom pushed his hips up and legs out, sucking on his clit and into his messy folds. He gasped harshly, legs almost tightening together as the pleasure became overwhelming, overstimulating. Tom withdrew, almost falling onto Harry, skin pressing sticky against Harry’s own.
He rolled face to face with him, and brushed Harry’s curls to the side of his face, his glasses askew as he laid against the soft and humid sheets. Tom pulled him gently into a soft kiss, tenderly, almost like decade-long lovers. They lay there, looking at one another, thoughts blank and staring into each other’s souls.
They slowly kissed for a few minutes, withdrawing to breath and almost admiring the other. Their mouths held flush against each other, moving at an almost timed pace. Harry felt something against his torso, and looked down again.
“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow at Tom.
“Do you really think I’m that old?” Tom smirked at Harry, pulling him on top of him as they kept going.
Harry laughed into his lips, “Try me. We could go like this forever.”
_____________________________________________
And Tom was true to his word. The next week, he declared his departure, and in the middle of him moving his things out of his office into the Minister’s area, Harry really could admit that this might have been one of his smartest ideas. In between some quick shags, almost being caught, and having to fix his hair up quite a bit, Harry was content.
He’d lay in Tom’s bed, gazing at the other man while he was sleeping and smiling.
And the strangest thing was, when they ended up attending the Ministry’s gala at the end of the year, arm in arm, Tom tilted his head down, into his ear whispering, “Still feel scammed?”
And Harry’s heart beat, possibly louder than in that obnoxiously fancy bar, as he grasped Tom’s hand in his and felt like it had truly been worth not blocking him out of the kindness of his own boredom.