Random Sampling
Apr. 2nd, 2011 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryAs the subject line would suggest, this is a mish-mash of an update, so apologies to anyone looking for coherency.
*![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_remix has finished, and I just wanted to say thank you to all the writers, artists, readers, commenters, helpers, lurkers, and anyone else who had anything to do in any way, shape, or form with that fest. I had a brilliant time with it, and can't wait to do it again. And the best part - or nearly the best part? Matching eveyone! It was da bomb!
* In keeping with that subject, I want to say another ENORMOUS thank-you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
acromantular, who penned Room for Impovement based on this silly little drabble of mine. Her fic was just such a wonderful gift to receive. I wrote the fic below, remixing nicevenn's Ranus Princeps, which was also a darling gift to me a couple of years ago. All of these fics are short, cracking good fun, and pretty much hawter-n-hell, so do give them a look if that's your kind of thing :)
* Mr Nursedarry finished his last day at work yesterday - by being hungover after some RAF birthday celebration and not going in - and is now officially on leave until July, when he comes out of the force. That means between now and then, we just need to find a house (going to look at one today, in fact), and he just needs to find a job. So, not a lot going on at home...
* OMG, how much do I LOVEleo_draconis's Shared Bed Fest? This is one of my ALL-TIME FAVOURITE plot devices (as anyone who's read my fic might tell you) and the stuff being posted over there is... GUH! I may have even used this very theme in a prompt for an upcoming well-known fest.
* T-minus a week and two days until THE TRIP! Have already got great plans which include shopping, eating, fangirling, partying, visiting parents (probably a good idea, as dear old dad had a hip operation a couple of weeks ago)swimming, shopping, sigh-seeing, con-ning, squeeing, and shopping. CAN. NOT. WAIT.
* Finally, and this is important: I'm looking for a couple of HP fan-artists to take on a commissioned drawble or two. Is anyone interested? I'd need them by about the 10th of June. Please comment or PM if you're interested. It's a fun project - I promise!
Right, time to go look at that house and get to a BBQ. Here's some smut for you before I go:
Title: The Slytherin’s Prince
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, mentions of Theo/Draco
Rating: NC17
Warnings: None - no, I really mean none.
Summary: Harry has been turned into a frog by a spurned girlfriend (guess who), and only a kiss from Draco Malfoy can break the spell. Draco’s new pet is a nice diversion from an affectionless affair with a house-mate, but he doesn’t realise that this frog can give him more than just companionship. 1st person present tense.
Word Count: ~3000
A/N: It helps to have read the original (link above), but isn't strictly necessary. Thank you and ♥ to my betasdelphipsmith, cassie_black12 and britpicker, groolover.
Christmas Eve
Dammit, I came on the magazine page. At this rate, it’s going to be ruined. Bad enough that the thing is so rumpled, the picture isn’t very clear anymore, but now it’s going to be sticky, too. This is ridiculous; I’ve not looked at this piece of paper for ages, but since the holidays started, I’ve had it out every night.
I’ve had it off every night, too.
I smile at my own joke and murmur a Cleaning charm.
I thought losing the real thing to what was, undoubtedly, a horde of fawning Weaslebys would lessen my desire for the speccy git. But no, I’m addicted. I finally admitted that to myself when I realised that sex alone with my virtual version of Potter was better than the real thing with Nott.
“Nott… What a prat!” I mutter. Saying it out loud always makes it more real and this time, this time, I mean it. I’ve done so many things for him and he can’t even thank me, let alone do anything for me. Sure, he’s not really going to tutor me in Potions, being thick as a Hippogriff, but he could at least give me a damn blowjob!
I’d kill to have one of those.
I’ve given him one, for Merlin’s sake. And it wasn’t even that bad! All I had to do was imagine it was Potter between my lips and it was easy. All musk and magic. I wonder if Potter would shout my name when he came down my throat. Sodding Nott just grunted. And never even gave me a warning, the stupid oaf.
Fine. We’ll see how far he goes in the world with that kind of attitude. You do a favour for a friend, they’re supposed to be grateful, right? They owe you. That’s the way it is. That’s what Father always says. I’ll never help Nott with homework or anything else again.
I only started up with him because in the right light, and if I squinted enough, I could pretend he was Potter.
I wish Nott had gone home for the holidays. I’d rather be alone with magazine-Potter. Well, I’d rather be alone with the real thing, but that’s never going to happen. He probably hates me, although I still can’t understand why — not when all I’ve done is offer him a chance to make his name even more renowned than it already is. Weird. Oh, and also there’s the problem of his engagement or whatever to the Weasel’s sister. Although Pansy told me she overheard the silly girl moaning about Potter to that tart Lavender What’s-Her-Name. I bet Potter wanted to fuck her and she wouldn’t do it.
You can fuck me all you want, Potter! I’d shout that from the Astronomy Tower if I thought it’d get me what I wanted.
Not really. But it’s nice to think about.
You know what’s also nice to think about? No more bloody spiders in this room! The frog that’s moved in has cleared them all out. I’d rather eat Brussels sprouts than spiders and that’s saying a lot. I suppose we’ll have lashings of the infernal things on the tables at tomorrow’s lunch. Sprouts, I mean, not spiders.
I should make that frog a nice home —isn’t it too cold for frogs now? I wonder what it’s doing here. It’s probably supposed to be hibernating or migrating or whatever it is that frogs do in the winter, and got caught out in the castle. Whatever, it’s pleasant not to find a floor full of spiders now, whenever I reach under the bed for Potter’s photograph. I think that might have been the reason I started putting it under the mattress. The creatures were even in the bloody wardrobe where I kept my shoes. I don’t mind spiders as long as they stay where they’re supposed to and don’t come anywhere near me or my clothes.
That wank was lovely. And tomorrow is Christmas…
I aim another cleaning charm at the picture and flatten it out as much as I can on the night table.
I can’t wait to see what presents Mother and Father have sent. It’s nice getting presents. Hmmm… I should give a present for the frog, since it's kind enough to keep the room spider-free. I guess I could Transfigure some kind of habitat for it. Ha – I know, I’ll use something of Nott’s. Something he’ll miss — a box of his quills or one of his robes. I should do that now before he comes back. I’m going to dump him. I bet he’ll never get laid again. And it would serve him right, too.
It’ll just be Potter and me from now on.
And that frog. But he’ll keep my secret.
Christmas Day
I inspect my handiwork. Transfiguring one of Nott’s library books into a terrarium was inspired. Not that he'll miss it, he never opens a book. Pointless when you can't read.
Ha! Just wait till Madam Pince starts in on him for losing it. The terrarium looks pretty good, if I do say so myself; lots of pretty plants and a water feature for the frog to splash about in.
I look around for the frog. He’s usually easy to see — a lovely green against the grey stone of the dungeon. Ah, there he is, surprisingly close to the bed. The little guy is getting brave. I show him his Christmas present.
The frog jumps away from me. How can he not like it? Oh, maybe he’s worried about how he’ll eat. I’m certainly not going to be collecting spiders for him. I assure the frog that I’ll leave the lid open so he can roam around. I’d just thought he’d appreciate the change of scenery.
Whoa! The frog just jumped onto my hand! I’ve never had much of a rapport with animals, but this frog and I seem to have a connection. I carefully place him into his new home and slide the lid partially over the top. The frog watches to make sure that it doesn’t close completely and then settles next to the plants.
He really is a beautiful colour. I tell him as much and place the terrarium onto the night table. It'll be time for Christmas lunch soon, and I suppose I should get dressed and get up to the Hall.
Nott hasn’t said a word to me today. I think he’s figured out he’s overstayed his welcome. And he’s too much of a bastard to do what I’d like him to do to me just to get a fuck. Cheerio, Nott.
Boxing Day
Potter’s touching my face. He’s gently stroking a finger over my eyelids and nibbling on my earlobes. We’ve just eaten lunch together in the Great Hall. Then, before the pudding arrives, he pulls me to the Head Table and covers me in brandy butter. It’s warm and smooth and it smells good. But not as good as Potter. In the next instant, I’m flat on my back on the table with Potter lying on top of me, licking the butter from my eyelashes and holding my hand.
I turn my head and look out over the Hall. The other students don’t seem to see us — they’re too busy opening their presents. They've all been given library books for Christmas and Madam Pince is shouting at them.
The lights go off as the pudding is brought in. Potter’s fingers leave my face and my eyes go wide. The Christmas pudding is huge and flaming and beautiful. But then Potter reaches for my cock and I see nothing but stars. After a while, he leans over me and peers into my face, looming ever closer… his mouth hovering just above mine. I can feel his breath against my lips.
I smile and murmur, “Such a tease.” I move forward and kiss him softly.
WHAT?!
Breathe!
I can’t breathe!
OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!
I’m dreaming, but I’m not dreaming! There’s someone on my bed! What? The frog is on my bed, no it isn’t the frog, it’s Potter — I’m still dreaming.
It’s Nott, it has to be. “Get off! FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK?! NOTT, YOU FUCKING ARSE, GET THE FUCK—” I thrash around but I’m trapped under his body. I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll—
MERLINS BALLS, IT IS POTTER!
He’s sitting on top of me and is pressing into me and I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING! How in hell did he get here?! My earlier erection had deflated, but I feel myself grow hard again. Potter’s going to feel it and I’m going to die because he’ll think I’m some sort of pervert and I—
“What the fuck, Potter?!” I shout and his hand closes over my mouth. He’s touching me, he’s touching my face!
“Shut up!” Potter says.
Then he’s talking nonsense: something about the frog, how does he know about the frog? Something about the Weasleyette and a spell… and me… What? He wants to fight? I can’t fight! I’m in my pyjamas and have a hard-on, for Merlin’s sake, I can’t even stand up! He’ll do what? He’ll do whatever who wouldn’t do? Nott? Does he mean Nott? How does he know what Nott wouldn’t do? Oh my god, Potter is hard, too, and did he just say he was the frog?
Shit, I’ve forgotten the question he’s asked me.
Potter pushes his cock against mine and I forget my name.
I settle back and Potter takes his hand away from my face. Again, he peers at me with those beautiful green eyes. I have to say something. Anything.
“Yes.”
Potter smirks. He actually smirks and complains that I’ve answered wrong. I want him to touch me so badly I’m almost shaking with frustration. What does he think I want him to do, lying underneath him with my cock feeling like steel? Does he really need an answer?
“You know what!” I growl at him. He snatches up my wand and the curtains around my bed close. Thank Merlin Nott seems to enjoy eating more than he enjoys sleeping and left the room early. I vaguely hear Potter muttering spells at the bed curtains.
Then, Potter, the real Potter, leans in and I lunge. I grab at his shirt and yank him toward me. But kissing Potter is something I intend to savour.
Potter lets go of my forearms and says he wants to taste me. I almost come in my pyjamas. Shit. Maybe he wasn’t joking when he said he was going to do all those things that bastard Nott wouldn’t do. I think I start drooling through our next kiss. How embarrassing.
I can’t let him see that, so I push his head down in the direction I’m hoping he wants to go. God, he’s pulling my pyjamas off. How many times have I fantasised about this? I reflexively turn to look where I’d last put down the magazine page with Potter’s image on it. It’s on the night table. Underneath the damn terrarium! I could die of embarrassment if I weren’t about to die of pleasure.
The air is cool, but Potter’s hands are hot and, fuck me, his mouth is so hot! He’s just licks around my cock and I think my body might spring from the bed. He holds me down and begins in earnest. My vision blurs and my chest starts heaving.
Potter, I finally got Potter!
I reach down to twine my fingers in the messy black hair, as if to assure myself this isn’t a dream, that I’m not still covered in butter with Potter busy licking it off me. No, this is real. And it’s better than any dream!
I give him a round-about compliment, as he’s finally found a skill I can appreciate, and he reacts just as I anticipate, he’s amused and slightly riled. I feel teeth scrape my penis and oh, Merlin, it’s divine. I suck air through my teeth.
I’m just about to release a happy sigh when Potter shoves his fingers into my mouth! How hot is that? His skin tastes salty and his nails are ragged and all I want to do is lick and nibble on them like a lolly. I want to suck on his fingers the way he’s sucking on my cock.
Thoughts of my dick make me wonder about Potter’s plans for the rest of me. And his plans for those fingers in my mouth. I have a plan of my own. “Stick them in me,” I say around his fingers. He does, and I fuck myself on his hand as his tongue dances around my shaft. All too soon, though, Potter’s ready for something else.
“Turn around,” he orders and I move to comply. I feel him settle behind me and then he pulls my arse cheeks apart. And that has to be the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. Nott usually just pushes his way in. In fact, aside from a bit of kissing and a hand job once, Nott has barely touched the outside of my body.
Potter is touching me everywhere. Potter is tasting me everywhere, fuck, fuck, fuck!! “Fuck, that feels good—” I bury my face in the pillow.
How thankful am I now, that Nott hasn’t done this to me? How thankful am I that I can now — hand on heart — say that the subject of my every waking (and non-waking) fantasy for the last three years has fucked me with his fingers and is now fucking me with his tongue? I try to picture it in my mind’s eye as there is no way I can move for the pleasure: Harry Potter’s messy head pressed against my arse, his hands holding me apart, his tongue darting in and out of me.
I am on the verge of coming when he stops. By now my mind has lost all capacity for rational thought and my body is teetering on a knife edge between desperate need and sublime ecstasy. Hazily through this, I feel his thumbs, rough pads of skin made wet with saliva, pulling my hole open.
If Potter doesn’t stick his cock into me right now, I am going to turn him back into a fucking frog.
Suddenly, a blob of something cool and wet falls into my hole. What the fuck? Did he just spit into my arse?! I lift my head. “Potter, you sick—” The insult dies on my lips as I hear the unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled. I moan and my head falls forward again, my arse rising up for easier access. I can’t wait to feel Potter’s dick push inside me.
Potter mumbles something about getting off listening to me wanking and I don’t think I can ever fancy him any more than I do at this moment. Then he enters me; now he is all mine. I can feel his testicles brush against mine over and over. I’m going to be so sore in the morning the way Potter is pounding into me. That thought alone is enough to bring me to the brink, but when he leans over my back (oh, how I love the intimacy of it!) and wraps a calloused hand around me, I lose it completely. We moan together, push against one another and drive each other fucking crazy. With a grunt against my neck, I can feel Potter pulse inside me.
I let him lie on top of me, he sounds exhausted. We could have been fucking for hours for all I know. I love how his chest and softening cock feel across my back and against my bum. It’s warm, sexy and a little sticky. Potter’s head is still buried against my neck and he pants against me. It feels wonderful; I’m never moving again.
Clarity slowly returns, and along with it, curiosity. Did Potter mutter something about the Weasleyette and a curse? Is that how he’d been turned into a frog? I ask him as much.
"Er—Ranus Princeps, or something like that," he says. I almost wish I hadn’t asked him, as he has to leave off licking my shoulder in order to respond. But the answer makes me beam with joy.
“Brilliant!” My eyes drift to the night table, and I look fondly at the terrarium and magazine photo. Forget that Harry Potter is the first person to ever give me a blow job. Forget that Harry Potter seems to worship my arse the way I worship him. Forget that Harry Potter is as attentive a lover after a shag as he is before one —from this day on, he really will be all mine.
I think about how the new arrangements will sit with Nott and the she-Weasel. I can’t wait to walk into the Great Hall together. Or maybe I’ll wait for them to catch us snogging in the corridor. Perhaps I’ll say nothing and let people wonder. Ginny Weasley will, at least, know that the spell has been broken. But surely she can’t have anticipated this outcome. She must have used this curse on Potter as punishment. It hardly seems to be punishing Potter at the moment.
He turns his head and those green eyes stare right through me. I get to lose myself in those eyes forever now. “Why? What is it?” he says.
I try to tell him the truth without sounding too smug and excited. "It means 'Frog Prince.'” Potter digests this and nods for me to continue. "And also that you'll turn back into a frog if you kiss or shag anyone but me."
And that is Merlin’s honest truth. It’s a nasty curse; The Weasleyette must have been really quite angry; even I wouldn’t cast it, and that’s saying something. I wonder how Potter will take the news.
He groans and slips his head under the duvet. But I can feel him smiling against my skin.
The End
*
hd_remix has finished, and I just wanted to say thank you to all the writers, artists, readers, commenters, helpers, lurkers, and anyone else who had anything to do in any way, shape, or form with that fest. I had a brilliant time with it, and can't wait to do it again. And the best part - or nearly the best part? Matching eveyone! It was da bomb! * In keeping with that subject, I want to say another ENORMOUS thank-you to
acromantular, who penned Room for Impovement based on this silly little drabble of mine. Her fic was just such a wonderful gift to receive. I wrote the fic below, remixing nicevenn's Ranus Princeps, which was also a darling gift to me a couple of years ago. All of these fics are short, cracking good fun, and pretty much hawter-n-hell, so do give them a look if that's your kind of thing :)* Mr Nursedarry finished his last day at work yesterday - by being hungover after some RAF birthday celebration and not going in - and is now officially on leave until July, when he comes out of the force. That means between now and then, we just need to find a house (going to look at one today, in fact), and he just needs to find a job. So, not a lot going on at home...
* OMG, how much do I LOVE
leo_draconis's Shared Bed Fest? This is one of my ALL-TIME FAVOURITE plot devices (as anyone who's read my fic might tell you) and the stuff being posted over there is... GUH! I may have even used this very theme in a prompt for an upcoming well-known fest.* T-minus a week and two days until THE TRIP! Have already got great plans which include shopping, eating, fangirling, partying, visiting parents (probably a good idea, as dear old dad had a hip operation a couple of weeks ago)swimming, shopping, sigh-seeing, con-ning, squeeing, and shopping. CAN. NOT. WAIT.
* Finally, and this is important: I'm looking for a couple of HP fan-artists to take on a commissioned drawble or two. Is anyone interested? I'd need them by about the 10th of June. Please comment or PM if you're interested. It's a fun project - I promise!
Right, time to go look at that house and get to a BBQ. Here's some smut for you before I go:
Title: The Slytherin’s Prince
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, mentions of Theo/Draco
Rating: NC17
Warnings: None - no, I really mean none.
Summary: Harry has been turned into a frog by a spurned girlfriend (guess who), and only a kiss from Draco Malfoy can break the spell. Draco’s new pet is a nice diversion from an affectionless affair with a house-mate, but he doesn’t realise that this frog can give him more than just companionship. 1st person present tense.
Word Count: ~3000
A/N: It helps to have read the original (link above), but isn't strictly necessary. Thank you and ♥ to my betas
delphipsmith, cassie_black12 and britpicker, groolover. Christmas Eve
Dammit, I came on the magazine page. At this rate, it’s going to be ruined. Bad enough that the thing is so rumpled, the picture isn’t very clear anymore, but now it’s going to be sticky, too. This is ridiculous; I’ve not looked at this piece of paper for ages, but since the holidays started, I’ve had it out every night.
I’ve had it off every night, too.
I smile at my own joke and murmur a Cleaning charm.
I thought losing the real thing to what was, undoubtedly, a horde of fawning Weaslebys would lessen my desire for the speccy git. But no, I’m addicted. I finally admitted that to myself when I realised that sex alone with my virtual version of Potter was better than the real thing with Nott.
“Nott… What a prat!” I mutter. Saying it out loud always makes it more real and this time, this time, I mean it. I’ve done so many things for him and he can’t even thank me, let alone do anything for me. Sure, he’s not really going to tutor me in Potions, being thick as a Hippogriff, but he could at least give me a damn blowjob!
I’d kill to have one of those.
I’ve given him one, for Merlin’s sake. And it wasn’t even that bad! All I had to do was imagine it was Potter between my lips and it was easy. All musk and magic. I wonder if Potter would shout my name when he came down my throat. Sodding Nott just grunted. And never even gave me a warning, the stupid oaf.
Fine. We’ll see how far he goes in the world with that kind of attitude. You do a favour for a friend, they’re supposed to be grateful, right? They owe you. That’s the way it is. That’s what Father always says. I’ll never help Nott with homework or anything else again.
I only started up with him because in the right light, and if I squinted enough, I could pretend he was Potter.
I wish Nott had gone home for the holidays. I’d rather be alone with magazine-Potter. Well, I’d rather be alone with the real thing, but that’s never going to happen. He probably hates me, although I still can’t understand why — not when all I’ve done is offer him a chance to make his name even more renowned than it already is. Weird. Oh, and also there’s the problem of his engagement or whatever to the Weasel’s sister. Although Pansy told me she overheard the silly girl moaning about Potter to that tart Lavender What’s-Her-Name. I bet Potter wanted to fuck her and she wouldn’t do it.
You can fuck me all you want, Potter! I’d shout that from the Astronomy Tower if I thought it’d get me what I wanted.
Not really. But it’s nice to think about.
You know what’s also nice to think about? No more bloody spiders in this room! The frog that’s moved in has cleared them all out. I’d rather eat Brussels sprouts than spiders and that’s saying a lot. I suppose we’ll have lashings of the infernal things on the tables at tomorrow’s lunch. Sprouts, I mean, not spiders.
I should make that frog a nice home —isn’t it too cold for frogs now? I wonder what it’s doing here. It’s probably supposed to be hibernating or migrating or whatever it is that frogs do in the winter, and got caught out in the castle. Whatever, it’s pleasant not to find a floor full of spiders now, whenever I reach under the bed for Potter’s photograph. I think that might have been the reason I started putting it under the mattress. The creatures were even in the bloody wardrobe where I kept my shoes. I don’t mind spiders as long as they stay where they’re supposed to and don’t come anywhere near me or my clothes.
That wank was lovely. And tomorrow is Christmas…
I aim another cleaning charm at the picture and flatten it out as much as I can on the night table.
I can’t wait to see what presents Mother and Father have sent. It’s nice getting presents. Hmmm… I should give a present for the frog, since it's kind enough to keep the room spider-free. I guess I could Transfigure some kind of habitat for it. Ha – I know, I’ll use something of Nott’s. Something he’ll miss — a box of his quills or one of his robes. I should do that now before he comes back. I’m going to dump him. I bet he’ll never get laid again. And it would serve him right, too.
It’ll just be Potter and me from now on.
And that frog. But he’ll keep my secret.
Christmas Day
I inspect my handiwork. Transfiguring one of Nott’s library books into a terrarium was inspired. Not that he'll miss it, he never opens a book. Pointless when you can't read.
Ha! Just wait till Madam Pince starts in on him for losing it. The terrarium looks pretty good, if I do say so myself; lots of pretty plants and a water feature for the frog to splash about in.
I look around for the frog. He’s usually easy to see — a lovely green against the grey stone of the dungeon. Ah, there he is, surprisingly close to the bed. The little guy is getting brave. I show him his Christmas present.
The frog jumps away from me. How can he not like it? Oh, maybe he’s worried about how he’ll eat. I’m certainly not going to be collecting spiders for him. I assure the frog that I’ll leave the lid open so he can roam around. I’d just thought he’d appreciate the change of scenery.
Whoa! The frog just jumped onto my hand! I’ve never had much of a rapport with animals, but this frog and I seem to have a connection. I carefully place him into his new home and slide the lid partially over the top. The frog watches to make sure that it doesn’t close completely and then settles next to the plants.
He really is a beautiful colour. I tell him as much and place the terrarium onto the night table. It'll be time for Christmas lunch soon, and I suppose I should get dressed and get up to the Hall.
Nott hasn’t said a word to me today. I think he’s figured out he’s overstayed his welcome. And he’s too much of a bastard to do what I’d like him to do to me just to get a fuck. Cheerio, Nott.
Boxing Day
Potter’s touching my face. He’s gently stroking a finger over my eyelids and nibbling on my earlobes. We’ve just eaten lunch together in the Great Hall. Then, before the pudding arrives, he pulls me to the Head Table and covers me in brandy butter. It’s warm and smooth and it smells good. But not as good as Potter. In the next instant, I’m flat on my back on the table with Potter lying on top of me, licking the butter from my eyelashes and holding my hand.
I turn my head and look out over the Hall. The other students don’t seem to see us — they’re too busy opening their presents. They've all been given library books for Christmas and Madam Pince is shouting at them.
The lights go off as the pudding is brought in. Potter’s fingers leave my face and my eyes go wide. The Christmas pudding is huge and flaming and beautiful. But then Potter reaches for my cock and I see nothing but stars. After a while, he leans over me and peers into my face, looming ever closer… his mouth hovering just above mine. I can feel his breath against my lips.
I smile and murmur, “Such a tease.” I move forward and kiss him softly.
WHAT?!
Breathe!
I can’t breathe!
OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?!
I’m dreaming, but I’m not dreaming! There’s someone on my bed! What? The frog is on my bed, no it isn’t the frog, it’s Potter — I’m still dreaming.
It’s Nott, it has to be. “Get off! FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK?! NOTT, YOU FUCKING ARSE, GET THE FUCK—” I thrash around but I’m trapped under his body. I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him, I’ll—
MERLINS BALLS, IT IS POTTER!
He’s sitting on top of me and is pressing into me and I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING! How in hell did he get here?! My earlier erection had deflated, but I feel myself grow hard again. Potter’s going to feel it and I’m going to die because he’ll think I’m some sort of pervert and I—
“What the fuck, Potter?!” I shout and his hand closes over my mouth. He’s touching me, he’s touching my face!
“Shut up!” Potter says.
Then he’s talking nonsense: something about the frog, how does he know about the frog? Something about the Weasleyette and a spell… and me… What? He wants to fight? I can’t fight! I’m in my pyjamas and have a hard-on, for Merlin’s sake, I can’t even stand up! He’ll do what? He’ll do whatever who wouldn’t do? Nott? Does he mean Nott? How does he know what Nott wouldn’t do? Oh my god, Potter is hard, too, and did he just say he was the frog?
Shit, I’ve forgotten the question he’s asked me.
Potter pushes his cock against mine and I forget my name.
I settle back and Potter takes his hand away from my face. Again, he peers at me with those beautiful green eyes. I have to say something. Anything.
“Yes.”
Potter smirks. He actually smirks and complains that I’ve answered wrong. I want him to touch me so badly I’m almost shaking with frustration. What does he think I want him to do, lying underneath him with my cock feeling like steel? Does he really need an answer?
“You know what!” I growl at him. He snatches up my wand and the curtains around my bed close. Thank Merlin Nott seems to enjoy eating more than he enjoys sleeping and left the room early. I vaguely hear Potter muttering spells at the bed curtains.
Then, Potter, the real Potter, leans in and I lunge. I grab at his shirt and yank him toward me. But kissing Potter is something I intend to savour.
Potter lets go of my forearms and says he wants to taste me. I almost come in my pyjamas. Shit. Maybe he wasn’t joking when he said he was going to do all those things that bastard Nott wouldn’t do. I think I start drooling through our next kiss. How embarrassing.
I can’t let him see that, so I push his head down in the direction I’m hoping he wants to go. God, he’s pulling my pyjamas off. How many times have I fantasised about this? I reflexively turn to look where I’d last put down the magazine page with Potter’s image on it. It’s on the night table. Underneath the damn terrarium! I could die of embarrassment if I weren’t about to die of pleasure.
The air is cool, but Potter’s hands are hot and, fuck me, his mouth is so hot! He’s just licks around my cock and I think my body might spring from the bed. He holds me down and begins in earnest. My vision blurs and my chest starts heaving.
Potter, I finally got Potter!
I reach down to twine my fingers in the messy black hair, as if to assure myself this isn’t a dream, that I’m not still covered in butter with Potter busy licking it off me. No, this is real. And it’s better than any dream!
I give him a round-about compliment, as he’s finally found a skill I can appreciate, and he reacts just as I anticipate, he’s amused and slightly riled. I feel teeth scrape my penis and oh, Merlin, it’s divine. I suck air through my teeth.
I’m just about to release a happy sigh when Potter shoves his fingers into my mouth! How hot is that? His skin tastes salty and his nails are ragged and all I want to do is lick and nibble on them like a lolly. I want to suck on his fingers the way he’s sucking on my cock.
Thoughts of my dick make me wonder about Potter’s plans for the rest of me. And his plans for those fingers in my mouth. I have a plan of my own. “Stick them in me,” I say around his fingers. He does, and I fuck myself on his hand as his tongue dances around my shaft. All too soon, though, Potter’s ready for something else.
“Turn around,” he orders and I move to comply. I feel him settle behind me and then he pulls my arse cheeks apart. And that has to be the most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. Nott usually just pushes his way in. In fact, aside from a bit of kissing and a hand job once, Nott has barely touched the outside of my body.
Potter is touching me everywhere. Potter is tasting me everywhere, fuck, fuck, fuck!! “Fuck, that feels good—” I bury my face in the pillow.
How thankful am I now, that Nott hasn’t done this to me? How thankful am I that I can now — hand on heart — say that the subject of my every waking (and non-waking) fantasy for the last three years has fucked me with his fingers and is now fucking me with his tongue? I try to picture it in my mind’s eye as there is no way I can move for the pleasure: Harry Potter’s messy head pressed against my arse, his hands holding me apart, his tongue darting in and out of me.
I am on the verge of coming when he stops. By now my mind has lost all capacity for rational thought and my body is teetering on a knife edge between desperate need and sublime ecstasy. Hazily through this, I feel his thumbs, rough pads of skin made wet with saliva, pulling my hole open.
If Potter doesn’t stick his cock into me right now, I am going to turn him back into a fucking frog.
Suddenly, a blob of something cool and wet falls into my hole. What the fuck? Did he just spit into my arse?! I lift my head. “Potter, you sick—” The insult dies on my lips as I hear the unmistakable sound of a belt being unbuckled. I moan and my head falls forward again, my arse rising up for easier access. I can’t wait to feel Potter’s dick push inside me.
Potter mumbles something about getting off listening to me wanking and I don’t think I can ever fancy him any more than I do at this moment. Then he enters me; now he is all mine. I can feel his testicles brush against mine over and over. I’m going to be so sore in the morning the way Potter is pounding into me. That thought alone is enough to bring me to the brink, but when he leans over my back (oh, how I love the intimacy of it!) and wraps a calloused hand around me, I lose it completely. We moan together, push against one another and drive each other fucking crazy. With a grunt against my neck, I can feel Potter pulse inside me.
I let him lie on top of me, he sounds exhausted. We could have been fucking for hours for all I know. I love how his chest and softening cock feel across my back and against my bum. It’s warm, sexy and a little sticky. Potter’s head is still buried against my neck and he pants against me. It feels wonderful; I’m never moving again.
Clarity slowly returns, and along with it, curiosity. Did Potter mutter something about the Weasleyette and a curse? Is that how he’d been turned into a frog? I ask him as much.
"Er—Ranus Princeps, or something like that," he says. I almost wish I hadn’t asked him, as he has to leave off licking my shoulder in order to respond. But the answer makes me beam with joy.
“Brilliant!” My eyes drift to the night table, and I look fondly at the terrarium and magazine photo. Forget that Harry Potter is the first person to ever give me a blow job. Forget that Harry Potter seems to worship my arse the way I worship him. Forget that Harry Potter is as attentive a lover after a shag as he is before one —from this day on, he really will be all mine.
I think about how the new arrangements will sit with Nott and the she-Weasel. I can’t wait to walk into the Great Hall together. Or maybe I’ll wait for them to catch us snogging in the corridor. Perhaps I’ll say nothing and let people wonder. Ginny Weasley will, at least, know that the spell has been broken. But surely she can’t have anticipated this outcome. She must have used this curse on Potter as punishment. It hardly seems to be punishing Potter at the moment.
He turns his head and those green eyes stare right through me. I get to lose myself in those eyes forever now. “Why? What is it?” he says.
I try to tell him the truth without sounding too smug and excited. "It means 'Frog Prince.'” Potter digests this and nods for me to continue. "And also that you'll turn back into a frog if you kiss or shag anyone but me."
And that is Merlin’s honest truth. It’s a nasty curse; The Weasleyette must have been really quite angry; even I wouldn’t cast it, and that’s saying something. I wonder how Potter will take the news.
He groans and slips his head under the duvet. But I can feel him smiling against my skin.
The End
