Narcofellatio
OK, this is my last one - I thought I'd just post them all today, and then I can settle back and read everyone else's.
Title: Narcofellatio
Author: shocolate
Requestor: florahart
Claim: The narcofellatio curse is accidentally embedded in the Gryffindor boys dormitory. Since the bloke doing the sucking is never awake to remember and therefore each one is sure he's immune, no one's in a big hurry to find a countercurse.
Pairing: perm any two from five in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: set in sixth year, so we’ll assume an age of consent of 16, as they’re British and I don’t do chan. Also, and I roll my eyes at having to point this out, but there are mentions of het, because two of them had a girlfriend at the time!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR, all descriptions of genitalia are fictional, and do not refer to DJR.
Words: nearly 10,000 - for heaven’s sakes, Flora!
Oh, Flora.
Narcofellatio.
The world thanks you.
And I thank magicofisis for her commaed beta.
Narcofellatio
****
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday March 25th, 1997
Dean’s POV
I was dreaming of my hands cupping pale, pale tits. Ginny has awesome tits and I had finally been allowed to touch them and they invaded my dreams on a regular basis.
It wouldn’t have been the first time I woke from a dream like that to find my cock boring a hole in the blankets, and I sighed as I floated up towards consciousness and spread my thighs and tried to get up the energy for a wank, when I realised that something was odd.
My cock wasn’t pressed against my belly by pyjamas and a Scottish winter’s worth of blankets; it was engulfed in wet warmth and someone was sucking hungrily on it.
Well, this was a good dream.
My subconscious had obviously moved on from the tit fondling, secure in the knowledge that I got to do that on my own time.
I’d be happy to dream about those pouty lips stretched around my cock, that incredible hair covering my lap.
And, seeing as it was a dream, I didn’t have to keep my eyes closed to hold on to the pornographic images of my girlfriend. Her brother was asleep in the next bed, but he couldn’t tell what I was dreaming of.
I opened my dreaming eyes and there was enough light from the stove in the middle of the room to watch the head bobbing industriously up and down my shaft.
It took a few seconds to register that it wasn’t my beautiful girlfriend, but my scruffy best mate.
I frowned down at my lap and poked my subconscious. Why the hell was I dreaming about Seamus sucking my cock?
Admittedly, I was seventeen and anyone sucking my cock sounded like a fabulous idea, but why Seamus of all people? Granted, Seamus talked about blow jobs a lot, so my stupid brain had got its wires crossed and grafted his detailed description of one onto my desperate wish for Ginny to go down on me.
Well, I could live with this. It was only a dream.
I sighed and let my head fall back on my pillow and I conjured up images of red hair and freckles and I turned my head and saw Ron watching me, wide eyed.
And I looked back at my lap as Seamus cupped my balls and I came and he choked and something dribbled out of his mouth and Ron gasped and Seamus sat up, blank eyes staring straight through me.
“I’m awake,” I whispered.
Seamus blinked and sat back on his heels and I pulled the blankets over my lap and watched him go back to his own bed and I met Ron’s eyes and they were very wide and I had nothing to say, so I lay down and stared at the canopy of my bed.
Well.
Sleep walking.
That’s all it was.
Ron’s POV
Most people in a dorm can sleep through their dorm mates’ moans, even if only for a good night’s sleep and protection from all the nightly wanking, but I always have half an ear listening for Harry’s nightmares, so Dean’s groan woke me.
I was lying with my back to his bed, so I couldn’t see him, and I really didn’t want to listen to him moaning and dreaming about my sister so I huffed and stuck my head under the pillow.
When it became too hot to breathe, I chanced a glance over to his bed and froze.
Dean’s blankets were kicked back, even on a cold March night, and his pyjamas were pulled down. I don’t know what part of my brain noticed this, because most of it was trying to process the fact that Seamus was kneeling between his mate’s spread legs and gobbling on his knob like there was no tomorrow.
How long had this been going on?
I mean, Dean couldn’t be bent, he was dating my fucking sister.
Oh, poor choice of words, Weasley.
I watched, stunned, as Seamus sucked him, the light from the stove falling in just the right - dear lord, I mean so, so wrong - angle to show the contrast in their skin colours and I wasn’t turned on, no not at all, and then Dean looked over at me and his eyes gleamed in the darkness and he collapsed back on his pillows as he came and Seamus choked a bit and sat up and I thought they’d speak to each other.
But Seamus looked strange and he blinked and swallowed and stood up and walked over to his bed and lay down.
I looked at Dean and he looked at me and then he turned away and I lay there, staring up at the canopy of my bed and wondering what I had just seen.
Could Seamus have been sleep walking?
Walking?
I snorted and Seamus’ jerked on his pillow and he sat up.
“Sorry,” I whispered into the darkness, but he didn’t answer, just swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked over to me.
“I didn’t see anything,” I said, pathetically, but he just looked straight through me and turned back my blankets.
“Seamus?” I whispered. “You, um, in there?”
While vaguely aware that someone acting this out of character could be under Imperius, I was also acutely aware that Seamus was undoing my pyjama bottoms and I looked wildly round the room, but everyone else was asleep, so I decided it was strategically sound to let him proceed.
To let him tug down my pyjamas and free my cock and stare straight through it as he lowered his head and opened his mouth and hot, wet warmth surrounded me and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, because sweet buggering fuck, it was amazing.
OK, the only thing I had to compare it to was Lavender writhing in my lap - and, of course, my own right hand - but, even though Seamus didn’t seem to realise what he was doing, he was fucking good at it.
Or I was easily pleased.
Probably the latter, because I flooded his mouth pretty soon and he sat up and swallowed and went back to bed.
I tucked myself back in and burrowed under my covers and freaked out.
Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but, fuck - he shouldn’t be allowed to go round sucking people in his sleep!
Neville’s POV
I was woken by something damp in my, uh, nether regions and my sleep addled brain murmured, ‘get out, Trevor,’ before reaching down and touching a lapful of hair, not leathery bumps.
No, that doesn’t sound right; I don’t have leathery bumps.
Usually, if I slid my hand into my y-fronts, I’d encounter a lap, well, not full of hair, but there is a respectable amount of hair present.
The leathery bumps were half-expected purely because my brain somehow expected to find Trevor nestled against my groin.
Which didn’t happen. Honest. No matter what Pansy Parkinson said about no one ever wanting to shag me because I’d rubbed my prick on Trevor and caught warts - or what Malfoy said about me believing that Trevor was a prince under an enchantment, and that I needed to do was rub him on my prick at dawn on mid summer’s day.
So, I reached between my legs, and what I encountered was someone else’s hair.
Bobbing up and down under my hand as wet suction moved up and down my prick and my brain finally caught up with the fact that someone was sucking me off and I opened my eyes and peered downwards to find Seamus’ sandy hair tangled between my fingers as I automatically pushed his face into my groin.
I snatched my hand away and started to apologise, before deciding that I had the right to thrust into any mouth that had decided to go down on me.
But why had he decided to go down on me? Especially without asking - or at least mentioning it first.
I was pretty sure you should ask first.
Did he really think I was so easy that I’d let him suck my prick whenever he fancied.
OK, judging by the way I’d spread my legs further and was thrusting up at him, I was pretty easy, but I was sixteen and no one had ever touched my prick before, and Seamus had a filthy mouth at the best of times, and now he squeezing my balls as I came in his mouth.
He sat back and I expected some sort of explanation, or possibly a demand for reciprocity, but he just stared at me, glassy eyed, and swallowed and went back to his bed.
Was it some sort of mistake? Or a secret? Or a dare?
Harry’s POV
I have a recurring dream that I’m in the twins’ old room at the Burrow, naked, sprawled on the bed with one hand running up and down my shaft.
The door opens and I see a flash of red hair by the candlelight in the hall, before someone’s weight settles on the bed beside me and a breathless voice says, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
The first time it happened, I jerked awake, heart pounding, thanking my lucky stars that Ron didn’t know Legilimency and would never know I’d come in my pyjamas, dreaming of his sister’s clever fingers catching my Snitch.
After a few weeks, I stopped blushing when I saw either of them during the day, unless I saw Ginny using her wand. Luckily they were both busy snogging people and I spent most of my time with Hermione, anyway.
I was pretty sure that everyone dreamt of pretty girls touching them, and I fell eagerly asleep each night, my cock reaching for those fingers.
One night, something felt different.
I spread my thighs and arched into her hand as it stroked me, but it felt strange.
Fantastic, but strange.
I muttered and shifted in the bed, wondering why my subconscious would alter my greatest comfort, as I struggled up through layers of sleep to find myself in my dorm.
Naked.
Sprawled on my bed.
With Seamus sucking my cock as if his life depended on it.
The light from the stove fell on his face and his eyes were blissfully closed.
Well, closed in what I assumed was bliss, but blissfully closed as far as I was concerned, because I didn’t want to meet his eyes as his hand cupped my balls and I whimpered and he sucked and I came in his mouth.
I came in his mouth.
His mouth.
My come.
He swallowed and sat back and his eyes opened, but he looked right through me and stood up.
“Seamus?” I whispered, but he went back to his bed and lay down.
Could he have been... sleep walking?
Dudley claimed he’d been sleeping when Uncle Vernon caught him drinking apricot brandy, but I’d never believed him.
But Seamus wouldn’t have sucked my cock when he was awake, would he? I know we’d had our problems, but we were good mates again.
So, he must have been fast asleep.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 1st, 1997
Seamus’ POV
I’m usually a heavy sleeper, you know? Reckon I could sleep through almost anything.
But I’m so wound up on April Fools’ Day, waiting for the axe to fall, that I woke up as soon as my crotch felt wet.
“Good try, Dean,” I muttered. “Not gonna piss m’self just ‘cos you pour warm water on m’cock.”
No one answered, but the warm wetness kept swirling round my cock.
“Gonna count to three and you’re gonna stop arsing around and I’m gonna go back to sleep,” I threatened, eyes still closed.
The warm wetness swirled upwards, with a slurp.
“Y’know, getting a Kneazle to lick a bloke’s knob isn’t original, anyway,” I said. “That’s why Granger doesn’t trust the twins.”
The suction increased and teeth scraped against my skin, and I was pretty sure a Kneazle’s mouth was smaller and teeth were sharper.
I was pretty sure none of the girls would consider breaking into the boys’ dorms and going down on me for an April Fool.
I was reasonably sure Lavender knows which bed is Ron’s.
I would swear none of the blokes would suck my cock, even on April Fools’ Day.
But I opened my eyes and saw the light from the stove reflected off Dean’s glistening lips as he dragged them up my shaft.
Dean.
My Dean.
My best mate.
My tit-fondling best mate.
My forcing me to look at endless sketches of Ginny’s breasts best mate.
Was kneeling between my parted thighs and rolling my balls between long fingers and sucking and licking my cock like it was the greatest honour I could bestow on him.
“Dean?” I muttered. “What the fuck are you doing?”
But he ignored me and went on sucking; his head bobbing up and down as I automatically raised my hips to meet him on each stroke.
I moaned and I liked girls and I bit my fist and Dean liked girls and his mouth was so hot and Dean had a girlfriend and I shot my load down his throat.
What d’you say to a best mate who’d just given you the perfect blow job?
Luckily, I didn’t have to find out, because Dean’s eyes were blank in the firelight as he licked his lips and swallowed and stumbled back to bed.
So.
Not a trick.
Not a joke.
Not awake?
Ron’s POV
I’d felt embarrassed around Seamus all week, even though he’d slept through the whole thing, but also a little hurt, as a bloke’s first blow job is kinda important, and he’d slept through the whole thing.
I’d totally avoided Dean, which was pretty easy to do, as I didn’t want to watch him touching my sister, anyway.
Not when I know what he’s really like.
Not when I know what he really likes.
I mean, Seamus had slept through the whole thing, but Dean had been awake, and Dean had enjoyed it.
And I was already avoiding Lavender, which was probably for the best, what with the way she crawled into my lap the whole time, and the need I had to grab someone and grind my cock against them.
And I was really avoiding thinking too closely about how much I’d enjoyed it.
So, at night, I tossed and turned and tossed off and dozed and got less sleep and grumpier as the week passed.
I carefully checked my bed as I turned in the next Monday night, not trusting any of my dorm mates not to have booby trapped my bed for April Fools’; and that got me to thinking that it’d been a week since The Night, and that I had better forget it, because it wasn’t going to happen again, and I had better move on and break up with Lavender and show Hermione how grown up I could be.
I was awoken, a couple of hours later, by glorious heat and suction on my happy, happy cock.
I didn’t open my eyes, trying to fool myself that I was still dreaming - just dreaming - about, well, not Hermione, because I’d have to face her in the morning, but about a girl, definitely.
Because I really didn’t want to watch Seamus sucking my cock. Bad idea. Really bad idea.
Because maybe once I could just forget, but if he was gonna make a habit of it, and well, I could easily get hooked, and that was a really, really bad idea.
Because I’d start thinking about him during the day and watching his lips as he ate, and I already wasted enough time watching Hermione’s.
So, just this once more, I’d let him suck me off - wasn’t it supposed to be dangerous to wake someone up while they’re sleepwalking? And then I’d have to do something about it. Maybe tell him I’d caught him sleepwalking and tell him to go to Madam Pomfrey.
So I spread my thighs further and dragged my eyes open and saw my cock sliding between Dean’s eager lips.
What the fuck?
Just because I’d watched Seamus going down on him last time, didn’t mean I enjoyed that sort of thing, didn’t mean I’d let him suck me. Did he really think he had some sort of a hold over me and that I wouldn’t tell Ginny that her boyfriend sucked cock?
Well, as soon as he finished, I was gonna have words with him. We did not have some sort of unspoken agreement that this was OK.
I closed my eyes and blocked out the thought that that mouth had been glued to my sister’s earlier in the evening and I blocked out the thought that that was actually quite hot, and I came hard.
And Dean sat back and I took a deep breath, ready to tell him off, and I opened my eyes, and he was gazing blankly through me.
Neville’s POV
I’m pretty sure being sucked off without giving permission is some sort of violation, but poor old Seamus didn’t even know he went down on blokes, so he was the one who’d really been violated.
I wondered what it was about his subconscious that made him choose my bed, too.
I wondered if maybe some part of him remembered it happening.
I watched him carefully, but he didn’t behave any differently. I rather thought Ron was watching him, too, but that could just be because Ron was avoiding watching Dean fawning over his sister, and his eyes naturally fell on Dean’s best mate, instead.
But the main thing was that poor Seamus didn’t seem to have suffered any ill effects, so I stopped worrying about him.
And about the fact that I imagined his mouth on me when I touched myself.
No one could object to me using my only sexual experience in my own private fantasies, surely.
No one could object to the dream I was having about Seamus sliding under the table in the Great Hall and taking me in his mouth as I ate my breakfast.
But something was different.
He hadn’t wrapped his hand round my prick when he sucked me, so what was my subconscious up to?
My eyelids snapped open and I stared up at the canopy of my bed, trying to muster the courage to look down and watch the greedy mouth sucking on me, to marvel at how the hand was moving with the mouth and squeezing my prick in hypnotic waves.
“Seamus,” I whispered, raising my head off the pillows and seeing black curly hair between my thighs.
I blinked.
Not.
Not Seamus.
Why was Dean sucking my prick?
That’s not to say I understood why Seamus had done it, but I was sort of used to the idea, and now I didn’t know what to think.
Dean’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he was obviously asleep, so it wasn’t as if Seamus had put him up to it, or anything, but this just wasn’t right.
I should say something.
I should stop him.
But wasn’t it dangerous to wake someone who was sleep… walking?
So I decided I’d do something about it in the morning, and I closed my eyes and let him suck me to another climax.
Harry’s POV
Something very strange had happened during the week following my encounter with Seamus.
My beautiful, comforting dream changed.
I’d be in the twins’ old room at the Burrow, naked, sprawled on the bed with one hand running up and down my shaft.
The door would open and I’d see a flash of red hair by the candlelight in the hall, before someone’s weight’d settle on the bed beside me and a breathless voice’d say, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
And Ron’s huge hand’d close round my cock and pull a screaming climax from me and I’d sit bolt upright in my bed, watching Ron sleeping in the next bed and thanking any deity you could name that he didn’t know Legilimency.
I suppose it wasn’t a huge surprise that Ron snuck into my dreams, and I can see where my brain took a bloke sucking my cock and assumed it was Ron.
No, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.
It’s not something I’d ever, ever thought of.
Before.
Ron’d never do something like that.
Not that I wanted him to, not really. I just mean that if I did ever fancy a bloke, well, of course it would be Ron.
So you can see how the Incident had played on my mind, and why I was probably more uncomfortable around Ron than Seamus.
I suppose a week had passed, so that was six dreams about Ron beautiful hands on me, when I jerked awake to feel my balls being rolled between long fingers as a tongue ran hypnotically round the head of my cock.
I let myself hold on to the tattered remnants of my dream for a moment, before I let go of Ron and opened my eyes to face Seamus.
And saw Dean.
I stared at my groin; at Dean’s fingers skilfully stroking my cock, at Dean’s hollowed cheeks as he sucked; at the blank eyes as he stared through my belly button.
This was… just going too far.
One sleep walking room mate was bad enough, but now I somehow felt like I was almost cheating on Seamus - and Ron - and Ginny.
Ginny!
This was Ginny’s boyfriend.
I’d glared at these lips just hours before as they’d been pressed to Ginny’s neck; how could he do this to Ginny?
And his tongue swept over the head of my cock and he sucked harder and I thought of him sucking on Ginny’s tongue and I thrust between his lips and came, hard.
Which was just about the most screwed up thing I had ever done, and I watched Dean lick his lips and go back to his bed and I turned away and looked at Ron’s sleeping back and wondered how being sucked off by his sister’s boyfriend could possibly have turned me on.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 8th, 1997
Seamus’ POV
I decided to ignore the fact that I’d come in Dean’s mouth.
No one would ever, ever know.
How good it had felt; the heat, the suction, the strong fingers caressing me.
But he knew nothing about it, and that was the way it would have to stay.
My first, perfect blow job, with the person I care most about in the whole world.
I’m a lucky guy.
So, Dean and I were as close as ever and he told me things about Ginny that I really didn’t want to know and it didn’t happen again.
For a week.
When I was woken by that same glorious suction, the same incredible heat, the long fingers cupping and squeezing my balls.
I sighed and spread my legs and idly arched up into his mouth and he sucked harder and his hair tickled my thighs.
I frowned in the darkness.
Why was his hair tickling my thighs? Dean’s hair wouldn’t brush back and forth as his head bobbed.
I opened my eyes and looked down at my lap, to see the firelight glinting on shaggy red hair as Ron industriously sucked my cock.
Fair play to him, he was doing a bang up job of a blow job, but what the hell did he think he was playing at?
Why did he think I’d spread my legs and let him kneel there and suck a cock that was… rightfully… Dean’s?
No.
Where the hell had that come from?
Dean didn’t want my cock; Dean was asleep; Dean wanted Ginny’s… bits.
Dean was asleep in the next bed as my arse flexed and I drove my cock harder into Ron’s mouth and who knew anyone could deep throat in their sleep, but he did and he swallowed around my cock and I came.
And he sat up and pulled a face as he licked his lips and he stood up and went back to his bed and burrowed, snoring, under the covers, leaving my head full of pointless shite.
Two blow jobs.
Two sleeping blow jobs.
One meant the world to me, and one was from my boy’s girl’s brother.
Dean’s POV
I’d tried to be extra attentive to Ginny in the fortnight since Seamus had sucked me off.
I think she appreciated it, even if she didn’t know why.
But I really needed to focus on my pretty girlfriend; on her soft skin and smooth curves and pale tits with perky nipples that - after one evening’s solid flattery - she’d let me suck on, her fingers buried in my hair.
Which actually didn’t help me feel all red-blooded male, because it absurdly made me fantasise about Seamus’ hands on my head, holding me down as… I don’t know.
It must be something to do with the memory of his mouth on me, his head in my lap; it’s not that I wanted to repay the compliment, or anything; I knew he’d been asleep.
And I know Ron had seen us.
And Ron had been avoiding me, but that was OK, I really didn’t have an explanation.
And Seamus’ sleep was undisturbed and mine was full of dreams of his mouth and I woke to glorious suction on my cock and bit my lip to stop calling his name and I opened my eyes and it was Ron.
Ron.
I couldn’t breathe.
Ron?
Ron had seen Seamus kneeling between my legs and sucking on my cock; Ron had looked me in the eye as my come filled Seamus’ mouth; Ron was the only one who knew.
And Ron must think I’m bent; Ron must think I won’t tell anyone if he climbs into my bed and pulls my cock out through the front of my boxers and takes me in his mouth and rolls me around on his tongue until I harden and nudge him in the back of his throat until he lifts his head and sucks his way up my shaft.
What a thing to do to your sister’s bloke, even if you do have a pretty good hold over him.
Would he really get off on using me like that? I always thought he was a pretty straight bloke - sexually, too.
He raised his face as his tongue swirled around the head of my cock and I saw his eyes.
His blank eyes.
He was asleep.
But. But, no. He’d seen Seamus. He knew.
Was there… something wrong with me?
Something that drew my sleeping dorm mates over to my bed to run their tongues in circles on my balls while pumping my cock?
Which is what Ron was doing when I came.
It arched through the air and hit him in the face and he automatically wiped it off as he stumbled back to bed.
Neville’s POV
I’d decided to sleep with just a t-shirt on, the following Monday night; seemed like a helpful thing to do, should anyone else wander.
Should anyone else I’d shared cocoa and a Digestive with decide he needed a midnight snack of my privates.
Seamus and then Dean.
I had a theory about that, actually.
I don’t think any curses can be triggered in order of depravity, and it’d pretty much have gone Seamus, Ron, Dean in that case, anyway, but there are ancient curses that are triggered by age - like the Pureblood thing they put on their daughters, so the younger ones can’t fall in love before their older sisters are married off - and Seamus was the oldest in the dorm, followed by Dean.
If Ron paid me a visit that night, I would have a working theory and a problem.
Because I’d be next, wouldn’t I? I couldn’t believe the curse was a ‘suck Neville off’ curse; they were clearly molesting everyone in the room.
So, I showered thoroughly and trimmed my pubes and went to bed.
My dreams were troubled and full of Ron fighting off half a dozen Pureblooded witches that looked like Malfoy in drag; he was trying to get to me to put a crystal condom on my prick, and the Malfoys were waving their pricks in the air and screaming, “No, it fits my cock, it fits my cock!”, and their cocks were too small and…. I woke up.
To find my legs spread and Ron’s hand wrapped round the base of my prick as he sucked wetly and enthusiastically.
His eyes were closed and his lips glistened in the firelight and there was dried spunk on his cheek and I know that it was Seamus’ or Dean’s and that Ron would move onto Harry next, and a part of me felt rather sad that I wasn’t anything special to any of them, but that was not the time for feeling sorry for myself.
Not when I had to ignore the fact that I had to read up on oral sex in the next week.
And when I couldn’t ignore the fact that Ron’s other hand had slid between my legs and his fantastic fingers were squeezing my balls in a way that was just this side of painful, and I wondered if that was what Ron liked doing to him and I wondered if it was even worth reading up on stuff, when poor old Ron had had no idea he’d spend fifteen minutes with my cock down his throat, deep throating like a trooper.
Because I was just too stressed to come.
Because I was worrying about what would happen if I didn’t come.
Would Ron have to suck me off for ever?
I tried to ignore the image of Ron shuffling along on his knees before me for the rest of our lives, unable to wake until I came in his mouth.
I tried to relax.
Seamus and Dean had obviously had no problems with it.
And then Ron’s fingers slid lower and between my cheeks and I was so distracted that I thrust hard into his mouth and my orgasm rippled through me.
Arses?
Did I have to read up on arses, too, or does the curse have some sort of time element, that adds different stimuli until you come?
Because that is bloody clever.
Harry’s POV
I half expected it to happen, after my encounter with Dean.
My beautiful, comforting dream changed again, but not quite in the way you’d think.
Ginny’s weight’d settle on the bed beside me and her breathless voice’d say, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
And her hair would fall around her face as she leant down and took me in her mouth.
I spent a week blushing and not looking at her during the day, but it wasn’t my fault my subconscious knew what it’d feel like - it was her sodding boyfriend’s.
So, I slept badly, with a lap full of freckles and red hair and I knew Ron’d simply kill me if he ever knew I’d dreamt of his baby sister sucking my cock.
God, just those words together in one sentence made me blush.
I guess it was a week later that I was woken from my dream by more than just my come splattering inside my pyjama bottoms.
There it was again.
A scorching hot mouth sucking hungrily on my cock; long fingers rolling my balls until they ached; soft hair brushing against my belly as the head bobbed up and down my shaft.
Long fingers, like Dean; long hair, like Seamus.
I opened an eye to see my Ron’s lips wrapped round my cock and I had to bite my lip to stop from crying out.
This wasn’t unexpected, like Seamus; or inappropriate, like Dean.
This was fantastic.
These were the first fingers in the world to touch me without hurting me, and they were tugging on my balls.
These were the first lips to smile at me, and they were dragging up my shaft and teasing my head.
This was my Ron and this was a very bad idea, because I wouldn’t be able to avoid him tomorrow, and I’d blush when he smiled and jump when he touched me.
But it felt so good.
Better than Seamus, with my worries about our past problems; better than Dean, with my issues with his girlfriend.
Who know it could feel so good to be touched by someone you love? Even if they didn’t know they were doing it.
But something was clearly wrong.
Three sleep walking blokes in one room?
All of whom are irresistibly drawn to my cock? Wouldn’t it be great if the Prophet found out?
The Chosen Cock - that’s a name I could do without.
Clearly, something was wrong, but who the hell could I tell? You just can’t go to a teacher and say ‘I’m worried because all my room mates go down on me in their sleep’.
Not when people finally believe I tell the truth!
But that was tomorrow’s problem, because I was clearly a selfish bastard and I wasn’t going to worry about it with my cock in Ron’s mouth.
So, I watched him sucking me.
Watched his cheeks hollow, watched the tip of his tongue running round the head and dipping into the slit, watched his beautiful hands stroking me, watched his frown of concentration.
Ron always concentrated on important stuff.
And one of those hands slid inexplicably between my cheeks and ran in circles round my hole and I came with a muffled yelp.
Ron sat back, not even blinking as he swallowed, and I half reached out to him as he got up and went back to his bed.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 15th, 1997
Seamus’ POV
It was clearly the gods paying me back for going on and on about blow jobs.
Because my knob had finally slid between flushed pink lips and I’d spilled my load down greedy throats, and all the stuff I read about in my cousin’s mags - and I couldn’t tell anyone about it!
If only Lavender had knelt at my feet in a deserted classroom, I’d have run back to the Common Room and dragged Dean up to the dorm and given him every filthy detail.
But it was Dean that had swallowed my come.
Dean!
And Ron, but I wasn’t gonna think of that.
It was also clearly more than a coincidence that they had both decided to play on my flute, but what the fuck was I supposed to do about it?
I couldn’t say anything.
So, I went about my business as normal, and if any of the blokes noticed I didn’t wax lyrical about blow jobs anymore, well, they’d not put two and two together and come up with me fancying my best mate like there was no tomorrow.
After a week or so, with no nocturnal wandering, I had almost decided to move on and try and make a move on Hannah Abbott to prove I was as straight as a die, when I was woken by someone nuzzling my balls.
I know it’s not the done thing to pray that it’s your best mate when you’re woken by someone nuzzling your balls, but I sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and opened my eyes to find Neville crouched over me.
Neville.
I rolled my eyes at the ceiling.
This was going too far.
My knob was obviously some sort of gobbling beacon.
Blokes were coming from far and wide to open their mouths far and wide and swallow me down, and fuck, who’d have thought that Neville was so talented?
It was a shame he wouldn’t remember this when he woke up, because the bloke could do with a bit of an ego boost.
And his mouth was hot and greedy and his fingers were slipping between my cheeks and a finger tip had slid up my arse and that was always the thing that sent me totally over the edge when I wanked and I clenched around him and came in waves down his throat.
Neville sat up and licked his lips and I watched him go back to his bed and wondered if I should Tergeo his finger.
So, I’d let it go just this one more time; but if it happened again I’d have to do something about it.
I could tell a teacher that I’d seen people sleep walking, I didn’t have to mention what they’d been doing, right?
Dean’s POV
Ginny clearly thought I’d lost my marbles, but it’s a bit hard to know how to treat the sister of a bloke whose face you’d jizzed in.
So I alternated between ignoring her and making a huge fuss of her and she accused me of ‘blowing hot and cold’ and I thought of Seamus blowing me and Ron blowing me and I pictured red hair in my lap and I looked at Ginny and I didn’t want red hair in my lap, I wanted my best mate, and that was just impossible and I was miserable.
This was all Seamus’ fault.
I have no idea why he’d been sleep walking, but couldn’t he find anything better to do than fall face first on my cock?
No, there was clearly something wrong, you don’t get two straight blokes sucking cock in their sleep unless there is something seriously wrong, but I was out of my depth when extra-weird Magical shit happened and I didn’t know who to ask for help.
I wish I could have asked Seamus - I always ask Seamus when I’m boggled by the Magical world - but what the hell could I say?
‘Is there any magical reason for you blowing me the other week? How did you pass it on to Ron?’
Also, weird as it sounds, I didn’t want him to know that Ron had gone down on me.
It was so screwed up, and I obsessed over it so much that I was actually taken by surprise and Neville a few nights later.
At least that time I automatically assumed he was asleep, so didn’t bother with the worry and the panic.
I just lay back and thought of England and let Nev’s surprisingly talented tongue bring me closer and closer to my climax.
And I wondered if Neville would mind if I thought of Seamus while he sucked me, and I wondered how many things were wrong with that sentence, and I spread my legs and he slipped a finger inside me and I bit my lips to stop myself from crying out as I came.
And he sat up, with glassy eyes and my come in his mouth and a fingertip I didn’t want to think to closely about. And he swallowed and went back to bed and I pulled my blankets back on and wondered what the hell I should do.
Ron’s POV
After a fortnight with no unexpected nocturnal activity, I had relaxed a bit.
Things were fine with Seamus - he didn’t seem to know what he’d done, after all.
I was pretty much back to avoiding Dean because he was fawning over my baby sister, rather than because I watched him being sucked off by his best mate and then woke up with my cock down his throat.
And he wasn’t going out of his way to talk to me, anyway - I assume he couldn’t face me after I watched Seamus suck him off, rather than because he and Ginny had done anything that meant he couldn’t face me.
Neville was looking rather serious and Harry was a bit twitchy, but I spent most of my time hiding behind Hermione and avoiding Lavender and persuading myself that I wasn’t desperate to feel lips around my cock again.
And the weird thing was that I didn’t have to put any effort into not imagining that those lips belonged to Hermione.
Seamus and Dean weren’t bent, but they’d been natural cock suckers, and I tried hard not to imagine someone else falling victim to whatever had brought them to my bed; tried hard not to picture Harry sucking my cock.
Oh, Harry.
I’d obviously enjoyed the feeling of Seamus’ and Dean’s mouths on me, but I completely didn’t fancy them in the daytime, so I don’t know how Harry had got under my skin like that, except that he was already under my skin, and the added blow jobs from hot teenage boys had obviously addled the way I thought of my best mate.
Because I did.
I thought of him kneeling before me and gazing up through his fringe with those amazing eyes.
Fuck.
Could he tell? Was it obvious that some sort of monster had been awakened in my pants, that needed to rub up against someone, and that he was my favourite target.
Could he tell that I was boring holes in his back as I stared at him in the night, willing him to come over to my bed.
I tried hard not to feel offended when I touched him and he jumped.
But, yeah, a fortnight passed with nothing weirder happening in the night than me wanking and thinking of Harry, when I was woken by an unfamiliar familiar sensation.
Someone was in my pants, once again, but it wasn’t Seamus and it wasn’t Dean.
And it wasn’t my Harry.
Neville was kneeling between my sprawled legs, one hand on my cock, moving in unison with his bobbing head, one hand probing embarrassingly between my cheeks.
Bizarre fantasies about Harry and a third blow job from a bloke not withstanding, he really wasn’t gonna have any luck back there. I wasn’t bent. I was…
...arching off the bed as a finger slid up my arse and pressed against something unexpected.
Neville’s other hand moved to my hip, to hold me down and he sucked my cock and finger fucked my arse and I came and collapsed in a heap.
By the time I blinked the room back into focus, Neville was back in his own bed and I was gay.
Harry’s POV
It is hardly surprising that I spent every waking and sleeping moment dreaming of Ron’s mouth on me.
There is no way I was going to be able to just move on from this.
Seamus was a mate, Dean was the boyfriend of the girl I had a crush on.
Ron was the most important person in my life, and he had cupped my balls and fingered my hole and sucked on my cock and I had come in his mouth, and he would never know.
I hated my life, sometimes.
I wish I could have talked to someone about it, and Hermione did notice that something was wrong, but there was no way I could tell her that my arse missed Ron’s fingers, was there?
So I moped around the school, which no one noticed, which made me even gloomier, and I watched Ron’s lips as he spoke, ate, laughed.
Luckily he was totally avoiding Lavender, so I didn’t have to watch him kissing.
And I fell asleep every night, listening for his breathing, hoping against hope that he’d swing those long legs out of bed and stumble over to mine.
About a week later, my glorious dream of Ron’s mouth and Ron’s eyes and Ron’s hair and Ron’s fingers was interrupted by the sensitive tip of my cock hitting the back of someone’s throat and making them swallow, hard, around me.
I jerked awake, my heart racing and my hands itching to bury themselves in red hair, only to find Neville sucking industriously as he worked his fingers between my cheeks.
I automatically clenched around them, reluctant to let anyone else go where Ron had gone before, and he hummed encouragingly around my cock and sucked harder and probed deeper.
Neville?
Well, a full house.
Every bloke in the room had visited me in the night and sucked greedily on my utter slut of a cock, which went up for any of them, so it was pathetic of me to make a big deal out of Ron doing it.
This was obviously yet another magical thing that I had never heard of, and I wished I could ask Ron about it, because I always went to Ron when I needed real life information about living as a wizard.
So I sighed and closed my eyes and relaxed my buttocks and Neville’s finger slipped inside me and drove me up into his mouth and I obediently came for him.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 22nd, 1997
Seamus’ POV
My Knob Watch was interrupted by something much more important.
The following Monday, Ron’s cow of a sister broke up with Dean, complaining that he’d pushed her through the portrait hole, or some crap like that.
He was distraught and I put all inappropriate thoughts of my best mate aside to do a best mate’s duty and get him drunk and hear him bitch about his ex-girlfriend.
He’d done nothing but fawn over the girl, he whined, treated her like a queen.
Fair enough, he didn’t know about the blow job, and I wasn’t gonna enlighten him.
He’d worshipped her, he’d adored her, he’d suckled on her breasts.
Which was too much information for someone who couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
I drank with him and swore with him and glared at Ron with him and put him to bed gone midnight, kissed him on the forehead and went to my own, lonely bed and blinked into the shadows, trying to get my head to stop spinning.
I’m sure my eyelids had barely closed over scratchy eyeballs when a hungry mouth closed over my cock.
“D’n care who that is,” I muttered. “Even if’s Dean, he won’t mean it.”
Strong suction drew me up into his mouth and I automatically flexed my arse and moved with him.
“I’ve had enough, you know,” I said. “Want someone to suck me when he’s awake, you know?”
But the mouth was insistent and a hand snaked up under my t-shirt and twisted a nipple and I gasped and opened my eyes.
His eyes were closed, but I would be far from the only person in the Wizarding World to recognise the scar peeking through the fringe draped in front of my cock.
Well, that’s all four of them, then.
Part of my brain giggled, ‘House!’
Honestly, what was it about this dorm… or possibly my cock? Was it really that irresistible?
Well, I wasn’t gonna feel sorry for the Boy Who Sucked, unwanted blow jobs or no unwanted blow jobs.
His best mate’s sister had hurt my Dean, so I arched off the bed, fucking his mouth ‘til I came with a grunt and promptly fell asleep.
Dean’s POV
Bloody women.
Bloody women with their hair and their tits and their pretending they want you t’open doors for ‘em an’ then dumping you when y’do.
Bloody having to pour it all out to Seamus when you really want to pour your soul down his throat as he sucks you.
If he knew.
I’ve bloody had it with women.
I felt Seamus’ kiss on my forehead as he tucked me into bed and I tried to haul myself back to consciousness to tell him it was him that I wanted, but sleep clawed me downwards.
I was dead to the world until my cock dragged me up to the surface; apparently it was happening again.
It can’t be normal, even for the Wizarding World, and my mum’d go spare if I told her, but there was another mouth clamped around my poor cock, sucking frantically.
Cracking an unwilling eye open, I saw Harry fucking Potter kneeling between my parted legs, his mouth stretched wide around my cock.
No one c’n compare to Harry fucking Potter.
If it wasn’t for Harry fucking Potter, my girl would never have dumped me.
Harry fucking Potter with his tragedy and his broodingness and his fascinatingness and his loneliness and his turning up at her house every summer, looking like the survivor of a shipwreck.
N’wonder she wanted to take care of him; he looks like a half-drowned kitten in a sack.
Well, good riddance.
He’s welcome to her and her moods and her bitching about Lavender.
Just as soon as he finished sucking my cock, he can have her.
My hand drifted up to my chest and tormented a nipple as Harry sucked harder, his head bobbing so hard my cock struck him in the back of the throat and he gagged and I put my free hand on the back of his head and thrust deeper and came.
Harry sat back, blank eyed and choking, and stumbled back to his bed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
I snuggled under my blankets and closed my tired eyes.
I’m gonna tell Seamus what happened.
I’m gonna tell him he went down on me and I can’t forget it.
I’ve bloody had it with women.
Ron’s POV
I didn’t have to avoid Neville, because he spent the next week in the library.
I spent the next week wanting Harry and worrying about Harry and avoiding Lavender and the whole thing came to a head on the following Monday.
Harry took his Felix Felicis and went off to a spider’s funeral, leaving Lavender bellowing in my face about doing filthy things to Hermione in the boys’ dorm.
If she only knew what happened in the boy’s dorm, it’d make her hair curl.
So, I was dumped and got to sit and be comforted by Hermione, which was kind of nice, and watch Dean annoying Ginny until she dumped him, which was kind of embarrassing, at which point Seamus grabbed him by the back of his robes and dragged him up the stairs.
And I know there wouldn’t be any cocks involved in the comforting going on upstairs, but I left them to it for as long as possible, before going up to bed.
They both glared at me, anyway, which was fair enough, in a twisted way. Dean had been dumped by my sister and I’d seen his best mate going down on him; I wasn’t gonna be his favourite person.
So, I fell asleep, thinking of my best mate and blow jobs and wasn’t surprised to find they’d followed me into my dreams.
I also wasn’t surprised to be woken from my dream of someone’s mouth around my cock by someone’s mouth around my cock.
I whimpered and tried to hold onto my dream, onto the image of Harry kneeling at my feet and looking up at me with hot eyes, but it was shattered by the tongue swirling hypnotically round my cock.
I moaned and opened my eyes and nearly choked.
Harry.
My Harry.
My beautiful Harry was kneeling over me, his hands pressing my hips into the mattress as his head bobbed enthusiastically up and down my shaft.
“Harry,” I breathed. “Please, it’s me.”
Of course he didn’t react. One hand slid further up my body, pushing my t-shirt and running a fingertip around my nipple until it peaked and then flicking it in rhythm with his sucking.
This was too cruel.
This was all I wanted.
This was all I’d get.
Harry’s lips round my cock, Harry’s fingers touching me.
Harry never knowing what he’d done to me.
His hand abandoned my nipples and I whimpered until it dipped between my wantonly spread thighs and cupped my balls, squeezing and tugging and making me arch off the bed and thrust into his mouth.
His fingers took advantage of my arse flexing to probe between my cheeks and I automatically tensed, unwilling to allow him this final intimacy, when I would have to touch those hands tomorrow and forget what he had done to me.
But I can never refuse Harry anything, even when he doesn’t know he’s asking it of me and I relaxed and groaned as his finger slipped inside me.
His mouth moved up and down, mirroring his fingers, and I closed my eyes and whispered, “It’s OK, Harry; I want this. I love you.”
His mouth stilled on my shaft and his finger hooked inside me and I yelped.
Looking down at my lap, I met panicked green eyes as my cock fell from his mouth and he looked up at me.
“It’s OK, Harry,” I repeated, sitting up and reaching for him, desperately.
He blinked and looked down at the hand I was sitting on. I lifted one cheek so he could slip his fingers free and I know I was blushing scarlet, but I could not let him move away.
“It’s OK, it’s not your fault,” I said. “There’s something weird happening…”
“I know,” he whispered. “Sleeping blow jobs.”
“You, too?” I asked.
“What?”
“It’s been happening to you, too? Seamus and Dean and Neville?”
“And… you,” he said.
“I… I sucked…”
We stared at each other, processing rather a lot of information.
“I…” he snorted. “I only wanted…”
“I only wanted you,” I said quickly. “I wished it had been you, I dreamt it was you.”
He laughed nervously.
“Really?” he asked. “Because… you… you, too.”
He reached for me, before realising that he’d used the hand that had been up my arse.
“C’mere,” I said, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and pulling him down to lie beside me. “You’re staying here, with me. I’m not having you visiting anyone else’s bed.”
He grinned widely and rested his head on my shoulder and we closed our eyes and I reckoned that the Felix Felicis was still working for us.
Neville’s POV
I spent a week in the Room of Requirement, researching oral and anal sex. And saying “I want to learn all about anal sex”, even to an empty room, is pretty embarrassing.
I went to bed the following Monday night with my head bursting with diagrams of erections and testes and perineums. -a. Perinea?
And I shaved. And I cut my nails.
And, as I’d feared, I had slept through the night.
Well, the sleep wasn’t as conclusive as the silky black pubic hair gummed to my chin with dried semen.
Harry’s I assumed.
I watched my dorm mates as we dressed.
None of them looked directly at me, but none of them looked… unsatisfied, so I assume I had done OK.
But that wasn’t the end of things, was it?
Because Harry was next, and Harry didn’t know - and then what? What if it went back to Seamus’ turn? What if we went down on each other for ever?
I spent a week in the library, researching sexual curses, age related curses, sleep curses.
Hermione finally asked me what I was up to. Well, I couldn’t tell her, but I did mention the curse that stopped the younger sisters falling in love thing, and asked if she’d heard of anything else like that. Anything age related.
And, being Hermione, she had.
She brought me a book from the Restricted Section, where she’d seen the enchantment involved keeping boys, but not professors, off the girls’ staircases.
There was also a curse involving sterilising older brothers and stealing thrones.
And there it was: Narcofellatio.
Hermione blushed and said ‘goodness’ and I turned the page and we leafed through the rest of the book together.
And when she’d gone, I went and read up on it. It was fiendishly complicated and ancient and who on earth would have cast it on our dorm? A Slytherin couldn’t have got up there - and it wasn’t actually Dark. More like an ultimate prank. Ah. Hadn’t Fred and George come up for Ron’s birthday?
Anyway. That wasn’t the point. The point was, how to break it?
I was right.
It struck people down in order of age, and would cycle for ever unless broken - and it could only be broken by requited lovers finding one another.
I snorted and stared at the page.
We were doomed.
OK, Harry hadn’t had his turn, but he was only reciprocating the climaxes he’d had over the last month.
It was already Monday - how was anyone supposed to find requited love by tonight?
I hid the book in my bag and went up to the dorm and hid my bag and was ignored by Harry and Ron and Hermione and I went down to the Common Room and sat in my usual corner and fretted.
No one was in love with me, but then I wasn’t in love with any of them, either, so there was nothing to pout about.
Harry.
Harry had to suck someone off tonight that he was in love with.
Well, Ron, clearly.
But Ron had already gone down on Harry, and the curse hadn’t been broken.
Requited lovers finding each other.
Lovers.
Well, Ron had a girlfriend, maybe that was why it hadn’t worked?
And that gave me a very small window of opportunity to break them up, didn’t it? And Ron had been trying to break up with her for months, so what chance did I stand?
But, at that moment, Lavender came into the Common Room and sat down in front of the fire.
And I stared at her, racking my brains until she turned and raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew what to do.
“If you’re looking for Ron,” I said. “He and Hermione are up in the boys’ dorm.”
And it was enough.
You should have heard the language!
I went smugly up to bed at gone midnight to find Seamus and Dean snoring drunkenly and Ron settling down to sleep.
Snuggling down in my pillows, I waited for Harry to come up to bed.
****
Yes, nineteen blow jobs in one fic.
I like to think that this is some sort of record.
lizardspots assures me that it is a record for a story of this length, but we don't know how many there are in War and Peace.
Title: Narcofellatio
Author: shocolate
Requestor: florahart
Claim: The narcofellatio curse is accidentally embedded in the Gryffindor boys dormitory. Since the bloke doing the sucking is never awake to remember and therefore each one is sure he's immune, no one's in a big hurry to find a countercurse.
Pairing: perm any two from five in the Gryffindor boys’ dorm.
Rating: NC-17
Warning: set in sixth year, so we’ll assume an age of consent of 16, as they’re British and I don’t do chan. Also, and I roll my eyes at having to point this out, but there are mentions of het, because two of them had a girlfriend at the time!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR, all descriptions of genitalia are fictional, and do not refer to DJR.
Words: nearly 10,000 - for heaven’s sakes, Flora!
Oh, Flora.
Narcofellatio.
The world thanks you.
And I thank magicofisis for her commaed beta.
Narcofellatio
****
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday March 25th, 1997
I was dreaming of my hands cupping pale, pale tits. Ginny has awesome tits and I had finally been allowed to touch them and they invaded my dreams on a regular basis.
It wouldn’t have been the first time I woke from a dream like that to find my cock boring a hole in the blankets, and I sighed as I floated up towards consciousness and spread my thighs and tried to get up the energy for a wank, when I realised that something was odd.
My cock wasn’t pressed against my belly by pyjamas and a Scottish winter’s worth of blankets; it was engulfed in wet warmth and someone was sucking hungrily on it.
Well, this was a good dream.
My subconscious had obviously moved on from the tit fondling, secure in the knowledge that I got to do that on my own time.
I’d be happy to dream about those pouty lips stretched around my cock, that incredible hair covering my lap.
And, seeing as it was a dream, I didn’t have to keep my eyes closed to hold on to the pornographic images of my girlfriend. Her brother was asleep in the next bed, but he couldn’t tell what I was dreaming of.
I opened my dreaming eyes and there was enough light from the stove in the middle of the room to watch the head bobbing industriously up and down my shaft.
It took a few seconds to register that it wasn’t my beautiful girlfriend, but my scruffy best mate.
I frowned down at my lap and poked my subconscious. Why the hell was I dreaming about Seamus sucking my cock?
Admittedly, I was seventeen and anyone sucking my cock sounded like a fabulous idea, but why Seamus of all people? Granted, Seamus talked about blow jobs a lot, so my stupid brain had got its wires crossed and grafted his detailed description of one onto my desperate wish for Ginny to go down on me.
Well, I could live with this. It was only a dream.
I sighed and let my head fall back on my pillow and I conjured up images of red hair and freckles and I turned my head and saw Ron watching me, wide eyed.
And I looked back at my lap as Seamus cupped my balls and I came and he choked and something dribbled out of his mouth and Ron gasped and Seamus sat up, blank eyes staring straight through me.
“I’m awake,” I whispered.
Seamus blinked and sat back on his heels and I pulled the blankets over my lap and watched him go back to his own bed and I met Ron’s eyes and they were very wide and I had nothing to say, so I lay down and stared at the canopy of my bed.
Well.
Sleep walking.
That’s all it was.
Most people in a dorm can sleep through their dorm mates’ moans, even if only for a good night’s sleep and protection from all the nightly wanking, but I always have half an ear listening for Harry’s nightmares, so Dean’s groan woke me.
I was lying with my back to his bed, so I couldn’t see him, and I really didn’t want to listen to him moaning and dreaming about my sister so I huffed and stuck my head under the pillow.
When it became too hot to breathe, I chanced a glance over to his bed and froze.
Dean’s blankets were kicked back, even on a cold March night, and his pyjamas were pulled down. I don’t know what part of my brain noticed this, because most of it was trying to process the fact that Seamus was kneeling between his mate’s spread legs and gobbling on his knob like there was no tomorrow.
How long had this been going on?
I mean, Dean couldn’t be bent, he was dating my fucking sister.
Oh, poor choice of words, Weasley.
I watched, stunned, as Seamus sucked him, the light from the stove falling in just the right - dear lord, I mean so, so wrong - angle to show the contrast in their skin colours and I wasn’t turned on, no not at all, and then Dean looked over at me and his eyes gleamed in the darkness and he collapsed back on his pillows as he came and Seamus choked a bit and sat up and I thought they’d speak to each other.
But Seamus looked strange and he blinked and swallowed and stood up and walked over to his bed and lay down.
I looked at Dean and he looked at me and then he turned away and I lay there, staring up at the canopy of my bed and wondering what I had just seen.
Could Seamus have been sleep walking?
Walking?
I snorted and Seamus’ jerked on his pillow and he sat up.
“Sorry,” I whispered into the darkness, but he didn’t answer, just swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked over to me.
“I didn’t see anything,” I said, pathetically, but he just looked straight through me and turned back my blankets.
“Seamus?” I whispered. “You, um, in there?”
While vaguely aware that someone acting this out of character could be under Imperius, I was also acutely aware that Seamus was undoing my pyjama bottoms and I looked wildly round the room, but everyone else was asleep, so I decided it was strategically sound to let him proceed.
To let him tug down my pyjamas and free my cock and stare straight through it as he lowered his head and opened his mouth and hot, wet warmth surrounded me and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, because sweet buggering fuck, it was amazing.
OK, the only thing I had to compare it to was Lavender writhing in my lap - and, of course, my own right hand - but, even though Seamus didn’t seem to realise what he was doing, he was fucking good at it.
Or I was easily pleased.
Probably the latter, because I flooded his mouth pretty soon and he sat up and swallowed and went back to bed.
I tucked myself back in and burrowed under my covers and freaked out.
Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but, fuck - he shouldn’t be allowed to go round sucking people in his sleep!
I was woken by something damp in my, uh, nether regions and my sleep addled brain murmured, ‘get out, Trevor,’ before reaching down and touching a lapful of hair, not leathery bumps.
No, that doesn’t sound right; I don’t have leathery bumps.
Usually, if I slid my hand into my y-fronts, I’d encounter a lap, well, not full of hair, but there is a respectable amount of hair present.
The leathery bumps were half-expected purely because my brain somehow expected to find Trevor nestled against my groin.
Which didn’t happen. Honest. No matter what Pansy Parkinson said about no one ever wanting to shag me because I’d rubbed my prick on Trevor and caught warts - or what Malfoy said about me believing that Trevor was a prince under an enchantment, and that I needed to do was rub him on my prick at dawn on mid summer’s day.
So, I reached between my legs, and what I encountered was someone else’s hair.
Bobbing up and down under my hand as wet suction moved up and down my prick and my brain finally caught up with the fact that someone was sucking me off and I opened my eyes and peered downwards to find Seamus’ sandy hair tangled between my fingers as I automatically pushed his face into my groin.
I snatched my hand away and started to apologise, before deciding that I had the right to thrust into any mouth that had decided to go down on me.
But why had he decided to go down on me? Especially without asking - or at least mentioning it first.
I was pretty sure you should ask first.
Did he really think I was so easy that I’d let him suck my prick whenever he fancied.
OK, judging by the way I’d spread my legs further and was thrusting up at him, I was pretty easy, but I was sixteen and no one had ever touched my prick before, and Seamus had a filthy mouth at the best of times, and now he squeezing my balls as I came in his mouth.
He sat back and I expected some sort of explanation, or possibly a demand for reciprocity, but he just stared at me, glassy eyed, and swallowed and went back to his bed.
Was it some sort of mistake? Or a secret? Or a dare?
I have a recurring dream that I’m in the twins’ old room at the Burrow, naked, sprawled on the bed with one hand running up and down my shaft.
The door opens and I see a flash of red hair by the candlelight in the hall, before someone’s weight settles on the bed beside me and a breathless voice says, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
The first time it happened, I jerked awake, heart pounding, thanking my lucky stars that Ron didn’t know Legilimency and would never know I’d come in my pyjamas, dreaming of his sister’s clever fingers catching my Snitch.
After a few weeks, I stopped blushing when I saw either of them during the day, unless I saw Ginny using her wand. Luckily they were both busy snogging people and I spent most of my time with Hermione, anyway.
I was pretty sure that everyone dreamt of pretty girls touching them, and I fell eagerly asleep each night, my cock reaching for those fingers.
One night, something felt different.
I spread my thighs and arched into her hand as it stroked me, but it felt strange.
Fantastic, but strange.
I muttered and shifted in the bed, wondering why my subconscious would alter my greatest comfort, as I struggled up through layers of sleep to find myself in my dorm.
Naked.
Sprawled on my bed.
With Seamus sucking my cock as if his life depended on it.
The light from the stove fell on his face and his eyes were blissfully closed.
Well, closed in what I assumed was bliss, but blissfully closed as far as I was concerned, because I didn’t want to meet his eyes as his hand cupped my balls and I whimpered and he sucked and I came in his mouth.
I came in his mouth.
His mouth.
My come.
He swallowed and sat back and his eyes opened, but he looked right through me and stood up.
“Seamus?” I whispered, but he went back to his bed and lay down.
Could he have been... sleep walking?
Dudley claimed he’d been sleeping when Uncle Vernon caught him drinking apricot brandy, but I’d never believed him.
But Seamus wouldn’t have sucked my cock when he was awake, would he? I know we’d had our problems, but we were good mates again.
So, he must have been fast asleep.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 1st, 1997
I’m usually a heavy sleeper, you know? Reckon I could sleep through almost anything.
But I’m so wound up on April Fools’ Day, waiting for the axe to fall, that I woke up as soon as my crotch felt wet.
“Good try, Dean,” I muttered. “Not gonna piss m’self just ‘cos you pour warm water on m’cock.”
No one answered, but the warm wetness kept swirling round my cock.
“Gonna count to three and you’re gonna stop arsing around and I’m gonna go back to sleep,” I threatened, eyes still closed.
The warm wetness swirled upwards, with a slurp.
“Y’know, getting a Kneazle to lick a bloke’s knob isn’t original, anyway,” I said. “That’s why Granger doesn’t trust the twins.”
The suction increased and teeth scraped against my skin, and I was pretty sure a Kneazle’s mouth was smaller and teeth were sharper.
I was pretty sure none of the girls would consider breaking into the boys’ dorms and going down on me for an April Fool.
I was reasonably sure Lavender knows which bed is Ron’s.
I would swear none of the blokes would suck my cock, even on April Fools’ Day.
But I opened my eyes and saw the light from the stove reflected off Dean’s glistening lips as he dragged them up my shaft.
Dean.
My Dean.
My best mate.
My tit-fondling best mate.
My forcing me to look at endless sketches of Ginny’s breasts best mate.
Was kneeling between my parted thighs and rolling my balls between long fingers and sucking and licking my cock like it was the greatest honour I could bestow on him.
“Dean?” I muttered. “What the fuck are you doing?”
But he ignored me and went on sucking; his head bobbing up and down as I automatically raised my hips to meet him on each stroke.
I moaned and I liked girls and I bit my fist and Dean liked girls and his mouth was so hot and Dean had a girlfriend and I shot my load down his throat.
What d’you say to a best mate who’d just given you the perfect blow job?
Luckily, I didn’t have to find out, because Dean’s eyes were blank in the firelight as he licked his lips and swallowed and stumbled back to bed.
So.
Not a trick.
Not a joke.
Not awake?
I’d felt embarrassed around Seamus all week, even though he’d slept through the whole thing, but also a little hurt, as a bloke’s first blow job is kinda important, and he’d slept through the whole thing.
I’d totally avoided Dean, which was pretty easy to do, as I didn’t want to watch him touching my sister, anyway.
Not when I know what he’s really like.
Not when I know what he really likes.
I mean, Seamus had slept through the whole thing, but Dean had been awake, and Dean had enjoyed it.
And I was already avoiding Lavender, which was probably for the best, what with the way she crawled into my lap the whole time, and the need I had to grab someone and grind my cock against them.
And I was really avoiding thinking too closely about how much I’d enjoyed it.
So, at night, I tossed and turned and tossed off and dozed and got less sleep and grumpier as the week passed.
I carefully checked my bed as I turned in the next Monday night, not trusting any of my dorm mates not to have booby trapped my bed for April Fools’; and that got me to thinking that it’d been a week since The Night, and that I had better forget it, because it wasn’t going to happen again, and I had better move on and break up with Lavender and show Hermione how grown up I could be.
I was awoken, a couple of hours later, by glorious heat and suction on my happy, happy cock.
I didn’t open my eyes, trying to fool myself that I was still dreaming - just dreaming - about, well, not Hermione, because I’d have to face her in the morning, but about a girl, definitely.
Because I really didn’t want to watch Seamus sucking my cock. Bad idea. Really bad idea.
Because maybe once I could just forget, but if he was gonna make a habit of it, and well, I could easily get hooked, and that was a really, really bad idea.
Because I’d start thinking about him during the day and watching his lips as he ate, and I already wasted enough time watching Hermione’s.
So, just this once more, I’d let him suck me off - wasn’t it supposed to be dangerous to wake someone up while they’re sleepwalking? And then I’d have to do something about it. Maybe tell him I’d caught him sleepwalking and tell him to go to Madam Pomfrey.
So I spread my thighs further and dragged my eyes open and saw my cock sliding between Dean’s eager lips.
What the fuck?
Just because I’d watched Seamus going down on him last time, didn’t mean I enjoyed that sort of thing, didn’t mean I’d let him suck me. Did he really think he had some sort of a hold over me and that I wouldn’t tell Ginny that her boyfriend sucked cock?
Well, as soon as he finished, I was gonna have words with him. We did not have some sort of unspoken agreement that this was OK.
I closed my eyes and blocked out the thought that that mouth had been glued to my sister’s earlier in the evening and I blocked out the thought that that was actually quite hot, and I came hard.
And Dean sat back and I took a deep breath, ready to tell him off, and I opened my eyes, and he was gazing blankly through me.
I’m pretty sure being sucked off without giving permission is some sort of violation, but poor old Seamus didn’t even know he went down on blokes, so he was the one who’d really been violated.
I wondered what it was about his subconscious that made him choose my bed, too.
I wondered if maybe some part of him remembered it happening.
I watched him carefully, but he didn’t behave any differently. I rather thought Ron was watching him, too, but that could just be because Ron was avoiding watching Dean fawning over his sister, and his eyes naturally fell on Dean’s best mate, instead.
But the main thing was that poor Seamus didn’t seem to have suffered any ill effects, so I stopped worrying about him.
And about the fact that I imagined his mouth on me when I touched myself.
No one could object to me using my only sexual experience in my own private fantasies, surely.
No one could object to the dream I was having about Seamus sliding under the table in the Great Hall and taking me in his mouth as I ate my breakfast.
But something was different.
He hadn’t wrapped his hand round my prick when he sucked me, so what was my subconscious up to?
My eyelids snapped open and I stared up at the canopy of my bed, trying to muster the courage to look down and watch the greedy mouth sucking on me, to marvel at how the hand was moving with the mouth and squeezing my prick in hypnotic waves.
“Seamus,” I whispered, raising my head off the pillows and seeing black curly hair between my thighs.
I blinked.
Not.
Not Seamus.
Why was Dean sucking my prick?
That’s not to say I understood why Seamus had done it, but I was sort of used to the idea, and now I didn’t know what to think.
Dean’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he was obviously asleep, so it wasn’t as if Seamus had put him up to it, or anything, but this just wasn’t right.
I should say something.
I should stop him.
But wasn’t it dangerous to wake someone who was sleep… walking?
So I decided I’d do something about it in the morning, and I closed my eyes and let him suck me to another climax.
Something very strange had happened during the week following my encounter with Seamus.
My beautiful, comforting dream changed.
I’d be in the twins’ old room at the Burrow, naked, sprawled on the bed with one hand running up and down my shaft.
The door would open and I’d see a flash of red hair by the candlelight in the hall, before someone’s weight’d settle on the bed beside me and a breathless voice’d say, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
And Ron’s huge hand’d close round my cock and pull a screaming climax from me and I’d sit bolt upright in my bed, watching Ron sleeping in the next bed and thanking any deity you could name that he didn’t know Legilimency.
I suppose it wasn’t a huge surprise that Ron snuck into my dreams, and I can see where my brain took a bloke sucking my cock and assumed it was Ron.
No, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.
It’s not something I’d ever, ever thought of.
Before.
Ron’d never do something like that.
Not that I wanted him to, not really. I just mean that if I did ever fancy a bloke, well, of course it would be Ron.
So you can see how the Incident had played on my mind, and why I was probably more uncomfortable around Ron than Seamus.
I suppose a week had passed, so that was six dreams about Ron beautiful hands on me, when I jerked awake to feel my balls being rolled between long fingers as a tongue ran hypnotically round the head of my cock.
I let myself hold on to the tattered remnants of my dream for a moment, before I let go of Ron and opened my eyes to face Seamus.
And saw Dean.
I stared at my groin; at Dean’s fingers skilfully stroking my cock, at Dean’s hollowed cheeks as he sucked; at the blank eyes as he stared through my belly button.
This was… just going too far.
One sleep walking room mate was bad enough, but now I somehow felt like I was almost cheating on Seamus - and Ron - and Ginny.
Ginny!
This was Ginny’s boyfriend.
I’d glared at these lips just hours before as they’d been pressed to Ginny’s neck; how could he do this to Ginny?
And his tongue swept over the head of my cock and he sucked harder and I thought of him sucking on Ginny’s tongue and I thrust between his lips and came, hard.
Which was just about the most screwed up thing I had ever done, and I watched Dean lick his lips and go back to his bed and I turned away and looked at Ron’s sleeping back and wondered how being sucked off by his sister’s boyfriend could possibly have turned me on.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 8th, 1997
I decided to ignore the fact that I’d come in Dean’s mouth.
No one would ever, ever know.
How good it had felt; the heat, the suction, the strong fingers caressing me.
But he knew nothing about it, and that was the way it would have to stay.
My first, perfect blow job, with the person I care most about in the whole world.
I’m a lucky guy.
So, Dean and I were as close as ever and he told me things about Ginny that I really didn’t want to know and it didn’t happen again.
For a week.
When I was woken by that same glorious suction, the same incredible heat, the long fingers cupping and squeezing my balls.
I sighed and spread my legs and idly arched up into his mouth and he sucked harder and his hair tickled my thighs.
I frowned in the darkness.
Why was his hair tickling my thighs? Dean’s hair wouldn’t brush back and forth as his head bobbed.
I opened my eyes and looked down at my lap, to see the firelight glinting on shaggy red hair as Ron industriously sucked my cock.
Fair play to him, he was doing a bang up job of a blow job, but what the hell did he think he was playing at?
Why did he think I’d spread my legs and let him kneel there and suck a cock that was… rightfully… Dean’s?
No.
Where the hell had that come from?
Dean didn’t want my cock; Dean was asleep; Dean wanted Ginny’s… bits.
Dean was asleep in the next bed as my arse flexed and I drove my cock harder into Ron’s mouth and who knew anyone could deep throat in their sleep, but he did and he swallowed around my cock and I came.
And he sat up and pulled a face as he licked his lips and he stood up and went back to his bed and burrowed, snoring, under the covers, leaving my head full of pointless shite.
Two blow jobs.
Two sleeping blow jobs.
One meant the world to me, and one was from my boy’s girl’s brother.
I’d tried to be extra attentive to Ginny in the fortnight since Seamus had sucked me off.
I think she appreciated it, even if she didn’t know why.
But I really needed to focus on my pretty girlfriend; on her soft skin and smooth curves and pale tits with perky nipples that - after one evening’s solid flattery - she’d let me suck on, her fingers buried in my hair.
Which actually didn’t help me feel all red-blooded male, because it absurdly made me fantasise about Seamus’ hands on my head, holding me down as… I don’t know.
It must be something to do with the memory of his mouth on me, his head in my lap; it’s not that I wanted to repay the compliment, or anything; I knew he’d been asleep.
And I know Ron had seen us.
And Ron had been avoiding me, but that was OK, I really didn’t have an explanation.
And Seamus’ sleep was undisturbed and mine was full of dreams of his mouth and I woke to glorious suction on my cock and bit my lip to stop calling his name and I opened my eyes and it was Ron.
Ron.
I couldn’t breathe.
Ron?
Ron had seen Seamus kneeling between my legs and sucking on my cock; Ron had looked me in the eye as my come filled Seamus’ mouth; Ron was the only one who knew.
And Ron must think I’m bent; Ron must think I won’t tell anyone if he climbs into my bed and pulls my cock out through the front of my boxers and takes me in his mouth and rolls me around on his tongue until I harden and nudge him in the back of his throat until he lifts his head and sucks his way up my shaft.
What a thing to do to your sister’s bloke, even if you do have a pretty good hold over him.
Would he really get off on using me like that? I always thought he was a pretty straight bloke - sexually, too.
He raised his face as his tongue swirled around the head of my cock and I saw his eyes.
His blank eyes.
He was asleep.
But. But, no. He’d seen Seamus. He knew.
Was there… something wrong with me?
Something that drew my sleeping dorm mates over to my bed to run their tongues in circles on my balls while pumping my cock?
Which is what Ron was doing when I came.
It arched through the air and hit him in the face and he automatically wiped it off as he stumbled back to bed.
I’d decided to sleep with just a t-shirt on, the following Monday night; seemed like a helpful thing to do, should anyone else wander.
Should anyone else I’d shared cocoa and a Digestive with decide he needed a midnight snack of my privates.
Seamus and then Dean.
I had a theory about that, actually.
I don’t think any curses can be triggered in order of depravity, and it’d pretty much have gone Seamus, Ron, Dean in that case, anyway, but there are ancient curses that are triggered by age - like the Pureblood thing they put on their daughters, so the younger ones can’t fall in love before their older sisters are married off - and Seamus was the oldest in the dorm, followed by Dean.
If Ron paid me a visit that night, I would have a working theory and a problem.
Because I’d be next, wouldn’t I? I couldn’t believe the curse was a ‘suck Neville off’ curse; they were clearly molesting everyone in the room.
So, I showered thoroughly and trimmed my pubes and went to bed.
My dreams were troubled and full of Ron fighting off half a dozen Pureblooded witches that looked like Malfoy in drag; he was trying to get to me to put a crystal condom on my prick, and the Malfoys were waving their pricks in the air and screaming, “No, it fits my cock, it fits my cock!”, and their cocks were too small and…. I woke up.
To find my legs spread and Ron’s hand wrapped round the base of my prick as he sucked wetly and enthusiastically.
His eyes were closed and his lips glistened in the firelight and there was dried spunk on his cheek and I know that it was Seamus’ or Dean’s and that Ron would move onto Harry next, and a part of me felt rather sad that I wasn’t anything special to any of them, but that was not the time for feeling sorry for myself.
Not when I had to ignore the fact that I had to read up on oral sex in the next week.
And when I couldn’t ignore the fact that Ron’s other hand had slid between my legs and his fantastic fingers were squeezing my balls in a way that was just this side of painful, and I wondered if that was what Ron liked doing to him and I wondered if it was even worth reading up on stuff, when poor old Ron had had no idea he’d spend fifteen minutes with my cock down his throat, deep throating like a trooper.
Because I was just too stressed to come.
Because I was worrying about what would happen if I didn’t come.
Would Ron have to suck me off for ever?
I tried to ignore the image of Ron shuffling along on his knees before me for the rest of our lives, unable to wake until I came in his mouth.
I tried to relax.
Seamus and Dean had obviously had no problems with it.
And then Ron’s fingers slid lower and between my cheeks and I was so distracted that I thrust hard into his mouth and my orgasm rippled through me.
Arses?
Did I have to read up on arses, too, or does the curse have some sort of time element, that adds different stimuli until you come?
Because that is bloody clever.
I half expected it to happen, after my encounter with Dean.
My beautiful, comforting dream changed again, but not quite in the way you’d think.
Ginny’s weight’d settle on the bed beside me and her breathless voice’d say, “Let me take care of that for you, Harry.”
And her hair would fall around her face as she leant down and took me in her mouth.
I spent a week blushing and not looking at her during the day, but it wasn’t my fault my subconscious knew what it’d feel like - it was her sodding boyfriend’s.
So, I slept badly, with a lap full of freckles and red hair and I knew Ron’d simply kill me if he ever knew I’d dreamt of his baby sister sucking my cock.
God, just those words together in one sentence made me blush.
I guess it was a week later that I was woken from my dream by more than just my come splattering inside my pyjama bottoms.
There it was again.
A scorching hot mouth sucking hungrily on my cock; long fingers rolling my balls until they ached; soft hair brushing against my belly as the head bobbed up and down my shaft.
Long fingers, like Dean; long hair, like Seamus.
I opened an eye to see my Ron’s lips wrapped round my cock and I had to bite my lip to stop from crying out.
This wasn’t unexpected, like Seamus; or inappropriate, like Dean.
This was fantastic.
These were the first fingers in the world to touch me without hurting me, and they were tugging on my balls.
These were the first lips to smile at me, and they were dragging up my shaft and teasing my head.
This was my Ron and this was a very bad idea, because I wouldn’t be able to avoid him tomorrow, and I’d blush when he smiled and jump when he touched me.
But it felt so good.
Better than Seamus, with my worries about our past problems; better than Dean, with my issues with his girlfriend.
Who know it could feel so good to be touched by someone you love? Even if they didn’t know they were doing it.
But something was clearly wrong.
Three sleep walking blokes in one room?
All of whom are irresistibly drawn to my cock? Wouldn’t it be great if the Prophet found out?
The Chosen Cock - that’s a name I could do without.
Clearly, something was wrong, but who the hell could I tell? You just can’t go to a teacher and say ‘I’m worried because all my room mates go down on me in their sleep’.
Not when people finally believe I tell the truth!
But that was tomorrow’s problem, because I was clearly a selfish bastard and I wasn’t going to worry about it with my cock in Ron’s mouth.
So, I watched him sucking me.
Watched his cheeks hollow, watched the tip of his tongue running round the head and dipping into the slit, watched his beautiful hands stroking me, watched his frown of concentration.
Ron always concentrated on important stuff.
And one of those hands slid inexplicably between my cheeks and ran in circles round my hole and I came with a muffled yelp.
Ron sat back, not even blinking as he swallowed, and I half reached out to him as he got up and went back to his bed.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 15th, 1997
It was clearly the gods paying me back for going on and on about blow jobs.
Because my knob had finally slid between flushed pink lips and I’d spilled my load down greedy throats, and all the stuff I read about in my cousin’s mags - and I couldn’t tell anyone about it!
If only Lavender had knelt at my feet in a deserted classroom, I’d have run back to the Common Room and dragged Dean up to the dorm and given him every filthy detail.
But it was Dean that had swallowed my come.
Dean!
And Ron, but I wasn’t gonna think of that.
It was also clearly more than a coincidence that they had both decided to play on my flute, but what the fuck was I supposed to do about it?
I couldn’t say anything.
So, I went about my business as normal, and if any of the blokes noticed I didn’t wax lyrical about blow jobs anymore, well, they’d not put two and two together and come up with me fancying my best mate like there was no tomorrow.
After a week or so, with no nocturnal wandering, I had almost decided to move on and try and make a move on Hannah Abbott to prove I was as straight as a die, when I was woken by someone nuzzling my balls.
I know it’s not the done thing to pray that it’s your best mate when you’re woken by someone nuzzling your balls, but I sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening, and opened my eyes to find Neville crouched over me.
Neville.
I rolled my eyes at the ceiling.
This was going too far.
My knob was obviously some sort of gobbling beacon.
Blokes were coming from far and wide to open their mouths far and wide and swallow me down, and fuck, who’d have thought that Neville was so talented?
It was a shame he wouldn’t remember this when he woke up, because the bloke could do with a bit of an ego boost.
And his mouth was hot and greedy and his fingers were slipping between my cheeks and a finger tip had slid up my arse and that was always the thing that sent me totally over the edge when I wanked and I clenched around him and came in waves down his throat.
Neville sat up and licked his lips and I watched him go back to his bed and wondered if I should Tergeo his finger.
So, I’d let it go just this one more time; but if it happened again I’d have to do something about it.
I could tell a teacher that I’d seen people sleep walking, I didn’t have to mention what they’d been doing, right?
Ginny clearly thought I’d lost my marbles, but it’s a bit hard to know how to treat the sister of a bloke whose face you’d jizzed in.
So I alternated between ignoring her and making a huge fuss of her and she accused me of ‘blowing hot and cold’ and I thought of Seamus blowing me and Ron blowing me and I pictured red hair in my lap and I looked at Ginny and I didn’t want red hair in my lap, I wanted my best mate, and that was just impossible and I was miserable.
This was all Seamus’ fault.
I have no idea why he’d been sleep walking, but couldn’t he find anything better to do than fall face first on my cock?
No, there was clearly something wrong, you don’t get two straight blokes sucking cock in their sleep unless there is something seriously wrong, but I was out of my depth when extra-weird Magical shit happened and I didn’t know who to ask for help.
I wish I could have asked Seamus - I always ask Seamus when I’m boggled by the Magical world - but what the hell could I say?
‘Is there any magical reason for you blowing me the other week? How did you pass it on to Ron?’
Also, weird as it sounds, I didn’t want him to know that Ron had gone down on me.
It was so screwed up, and I obsessed over it so much that I was actually taken by surprise and Neville a few nights later.
At least that time I automatically assumed he was asleep, so didn’t bother with the worry and the panic.
I just lay back and thought of England and let Nev’s surprisingly talented tongue bring me closer and closer to my climax.
And I wondered if Neville would mind if I thought of Seamus while he sucked me, and I wondered how many things were wrong with that sentence, and I spread my legs and he slipped a finger inside me and I bit my lips to stop myself from crying out as I came.
And he sat up, with glassy eyes and my come in his mouth and a fingertip I didn’t want to think to closely about. And he swallowed and went back to bed and I pulled my blankets back on and wondered what the hell I should do.
After a fortnight with no unexpected nocturnal activity, I had relaxed a bit.
Things were fine with Seamus - he didn’t seem to know what he’d done, after all.
I was pretty much back to avoiding Dean because he was fawning over my baby sister, rather than because I watched him being sucked off by his best mate and then woke up with my cock down his throat.
And he wasn’t going out of his way to talk to me, anyway - I assume he couldn’t face me after I watched Seamus suck him off, rather than because he and Ginny had done anything that meant he couldn’t face me.
Neville was looking rather serious and Harry was a bit twitchy, but I spent most of my time hiding behind Hermione and avoiding Lavender and persuading myself that I wasn’t desperate to feel lips around my cock again.
And the weird thing was that I didn’t have to put any effort into not imagining that those lips belonged to Hermione.
Seamus and Dean weren’t bent, but they’d been natural cock suckers, and I tried hard not to imagine someone else falling victim to whatever had brought them to my bed; tried hard not to picture Harry sucking my cock.
Oh, Harry.
I’d obviously enjoyed the feeling of Seamus’ and Dean’s mouths on me, but I completely didn’t fancy them in the daytime, so I don’t know how Harry had got under my skin like that, except that he was already under my skin, and the added blow jobs from hot teenage boys had obviously addled the way I thought of my best mate.
Because I did.
I thought of him kneeling before me and gazing up through his fringe with those amazing eyes.
Fuck.
Could he tell? Was it obvious that some sort of monster had been awakened in my pants, that needed to rub up against someone, and that he was my favourite target.
Could he tell that I was boring holes in his back as I stared at him in the night, willing him to come over to my bed.
I tried hard not to feel offended when I touched him and he jumped.
But, yeah, a fortnight passed with nothing weirder happening in the night than me wanking and thinking of Harry, when I was woken by an unfamiliar familiar sensation.
Someone was in my pants, once again, but it wasn’t Seamus and it wasn’t Dean.
And it wasn’t my Harry.
Neville was kneeling between my sprawled legs, one hand on my cock, moving in unison with his bobbing head, one hand probing embarrassingly between my cheeks.
Bizarre fantasies about Harry and a third blow job from a bloke not withstanding, he really wasn’t gonna have any luck back there. I wasn’t bent. I was…
...arching off the bed as a finger slid up my arse and pressed against something unexpected.
Neville’s other hand moved to my hip, to hold me down and he sucked my cock and finger fucked my arse and I came and collapsed in a heap.
By the time I blinked the room back into focus, Neville was back in his own bed and I was gay.
It is hardly surprising that I spent every waking and sleeping moment dreaming of Ron’s mouth on me.
There is no way I was going to be able to just move on from this.
Seamus was a mate, Dean was the boyfriend of the girl I had a crush on.
Ron was the most important person in my life, and he had cupped my balls and fingered my hole and sucked on my cock and I had come in his mouth, and he would never know.
I hated my life, sometimes.
I wish I could have talked to someone about it, and Hermione did notice that something was wrong, but there was no way I could tell her that my arse missed Ron’s fingers, was there?
So I moped around the school, which no one noticed, which made me even gloomier, and I watched Ron’s lips as he spoke, ate, laughed.
Luckily he was totally avoiding Lavender, so I didn’t have to watch him kissing.
And I fell asleep every night, listening for his breathing, hoping against hope that he’d swing those long legs out of bed and stumble over to mine.
About a week later, my glorious dream of Ron’s mouth and Ron’s eyes and Ron’s hair and Ron’s fingers was interrupted by the sensitive tip of my cock hitting the back of someone’s throat and making them swallow, hard, around me.
I jerked awake, my heart racing and my hands itching to bury themselves in red hair, only to find Neville sucking industriously as he worked his fingers between my cheeks.
I automatically clenched around them, reluctant to let anyone else go where Ron had gone before, and he hummed encouragingly around my cock and sucked harder and probed deeper.
Neville?
Well, a full house.
Every bloke in the room had visited me in the night and sucked greedily on my utter slut of a cock, which went up for any of them, so it was pathetic of me to make a big deal out of Ron doing it.
This was obviously yet another magical thing that I had never heard of, and I wished I could ask Ron about it, because I always went to Ron when I needed real life information about living as a wizard.
So I sighed and closed my eyes and relaxed my buttocks and Neville’s finger slipped inside me and drove me up into his mouth and I obediently came for him.
Gryffindor boys sixth year dorm, 1am, Tuesday April 22nd, 1997
My Knob Watch was interrupted by something much more important.
The following Monday, Ron’s cow of a sister broke up with Dean, complaining that he’d pushed her through the portrait hole, or some crap like that.
He was distraught and I put all inappropriate thoughts of my best mate aside to do a best mate’s duty and get him drunk and hear him bitch about his ex-girlfriend.
He’d done nothing but fawn over the girl, he whined, treated her like a queen.
Fair enough, he didn’t know about the blow job, and I wasn’t gonna enlighten him.
He’d worshipped her, he’d adored her, he’d suckled on her breasts.
Which was too much information for someone who couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
I drank with him and swore with him and glared at Ron with him and put him to bed gone midnight, kissed him on the forehead and went to my own, lonely bed and blinked into the shadows, trying to get my head to stop spinning.
I’m sure my eyelids had barely closed over scratchy eyeballs when a hungry mouth closed over my cock.
“D’n care who that is,” I muttered. “Even if’s Dean, he won’t mean it.”
Strong suction drew me up into his mouth and I automatically flexed my arse and moved with him.
“I’ve had enough, you know,” I said. “Want someone to suck me when he’s awake, you know?”
But the mouth was insistent and a hand snaked up under my t-shirt and twisted a nipple and I gasped and opened my eyes.
His eyes were closed, but I would be far from the only person in the Wizarding World to recognise the scar peeking through the fringe draped in front of my cock.
Well, that’s all four of them, then.
Part of my brain giggled, ‘House!’
Honestly, what was it about this dorm… or possibly my cock? Was it really that irresistible?
Well, I wasn’t gonna feel sorry for the Boy Who Sucked, unwanted blow jobs or no unwanted blow jobs.
His best mate’s sister had hurt my Dean, so I arched off the bed, fucking his mouth ‘til I came with a grunt and promptly fell asleep.
Bloody women.
Bloody women with their hair and their tits and their pretending they want you t’open doors for ‘em an’ then dumping you when y’do.
Bloody having to pour it all out to Seamus when you really want to pour your soul down his throat as he sucks you.
If he knew.
I’ve bloody had it with women.
I felt Seamus’ kiss on my forehead as he tucked me into bed and I tried to haul myself back to consciousness to tell him it was him that I wanted, but sleep clawed me downwards.
I was dead to the world until my cock dragged me up to the surface; apparently it was happening again.
It can’t be normal, even for the Wizarding World, and my mum’d go spare if I told her, but there was another mouth clamped around my poor cock, sucking frantically.
Cracking an unwilling eye open, I saw Harry fucking Potter kneeling between my parted legs, his mouth stretched wide around my cock.
No one c’n compare to Harry fucking Potter.
If it wasn’t for Harry fucking Potter, my girl would never have dumped me.
Harry fucking Potter with his tragedy and his broodingness and his fascinatingness and his loneliness and his turning up at her house every summer, looking like the survivor of a shipwreck.
N’wonder she wanted to take care of him; he looks like a half-drowned kitten in a sack.
Well, good riddance.
He’s welcome to her and her moods and her bitching about Lavender.
Just as soon as he finished sucking my cock, he can have her.
My hand drifted up to my chest and tormented a nipple as Harry sucked harder, his head bobbing so hard my cock struck him in the back of the throat and he gagged and I put my free hand on the back of his head and thrust deeper and came.
Harry sat back, blank eyed and choking, and stumbled back to his bed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
I snuggled under my blankets and closed my tired eyes.
I’m gonna tell Seamus what happened.
I’m gonna tell him he went down on me and I can’t forget it.
I’ve bloody had it with women.
I didn’t have to avoid Neville, because he spent the next week in the library.
I spent the next week wanting Harry and worrying about Harry and avoiding Lavender and the whole thing came to a head on the following Monday.
Harry took his Felix Felicis and went off to a spider’s funeral, leaving Lavender bellowing in my face about doing filthy things to Hermione in the boys’ dorm.
If she only knew what happened in the boy’s dorm, it’d make her hair curl.
So, I was dumped and got to sit and be comforted by Hermione, which was kind of nice, and watch Dean annoying Ginny until she dumped him, which was kind of embarrassing, at which point Seamus grabbed him by the back of his robes and dragged him up the stairs.
And I know there wouldn’t be any cocks involved in the comforting going on upstairs, but I left them to it for as long as possible, before going up to bed.
They both glared at me, anyway, which was fair enough, in a twisted way. Dean had been dumped by my sister and I’d seen his best mate going down on him; I wasn’t gonna be his favourite person.
So, I fell asleep, thinking of my best mate and blow jobs and wasn’t surprised to find they’d followed me into my dreams.
I also wasn’t surprised to be woken from my dream of someone’s mouth around my cock by someone’s mouth around my cock.
I whimpered and tried to hold onto my dream, onto the image of Harry kneeling at my feet and looking up at me with hot eyes, but it was shattered by the tongue swirling hypnotically round my cock.
I moaned and opened my eyes and nearly choked.
Harry.
My Harry.
My beautiful Harry was kneeling over me, his hands pressing my hips into the mattress as his head bobbed enthusiastically up and down my shaft.
“Harry,” I breathed. “Please, it’s me.”
Of course he didn’t react. One hand slid further up my body, pushing my t-shirt and running a fingertip around my nipple until it peaked and then flicking it in rhythm with his sucking.
This was too cruel.
This was all I wanted.
This was all I’d get.
Harry’s lips round my cock, Harry’s fingers touching me.
Harry never knowing what he’d done to me.
His hand abandoned my nipples and I whimpered until it dipped between my wantonly spread thighs and cupped my balls, squeezing and tugging and making me arch off the bed and thrust into his mouth.
His fingers took advantage of my arse flexing to probe between my cheeks and I automatically tensed, unwilling to allow him this final intimacy, when I would have to touch those hands tomorrow and forget what he had done to me.
But I can never refuse Harry anything, even when he doesn’t know he’s asking it of me and I relaxed and groaned as his finger slipped inside me.
His mouth moved up and down, mirroring his fingers, and I closed my eyes and whispered, “It’s OK, Harry; I want this. I love you.”
His mouth stilled on my shaft and his finger hooked inside me and I yelped.
Looking down at my lap, I met panicked green eyes as my cock fell from his mouth and he looked up at me.
“It’s OK, Harry,” I repeated, sitting up and reaching for him, desperately.
He blinked and looked down at the hand I was sitting on. I lifted one cheek so he could slip his fingers free and I know I was blushing scarlet, but I could not let him move away.
“It’s OK, it’s not your fault,” I said. “There’s something weird happening…”
“I know,” he whispered. “Sleeping blow jobs.”
“You, too?” I asked.
“What?”
“It’s been happening to you, too? Seamus and Dean and Neville?”
“And… you,” he said.
“I… I sucked…”
We stared at each other, processing rather a lot of information.
“I…” he snorted. “I only wanted…”
“I only wanted you,” I said quickly. “I wished it had been you, I dreamt it was you.”
He laughed nervously.
“Really?” he asked. “Because… you… you, too.”
He reached for me, before realising that he’d used the hand that had been up my arse.
“C’mere,” I said, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and pulling him down to lie beside me. “You’re staying here, with me. I’m not having you visiting anyone else’s bed.”
He grinned widely and rested his head on my shoulder and we closed our eyes and I reckoned that the Felix Felicis was still working for us.
I spent a week in the Room of Requirement, researching oral and anal sex. And saying “I want to learn all about anal sex”, even to an empty room, is pretty embarrassing.
I went to bed the following Monday night with my head bursting with diagrams of erections and testes and perineums. -a. Perinea?
And I shaved. And I cut my nails.
And, as I’d feared, I had slept through the night.
Well, the sleep wasn’t as conclusive as the silky black pubic hair gummed to my chin with dried semen.
Harry’s I assumed.
I watched my dorm mates as we dressed.
None of them looked directly at me, but none of them looked… unsatisfied, so I assume I had done OK.
But that wasn’t the end of things, was it?
Because Harry was next, and Harry didn’t know - and then what? What if it went back to Seamus’ turn? What if we went down on each other for ever?
I spent a week in the library, researching sexual curses, age related curses, sleep curses.
Hermione finally asked me what I was up to. Well, I couldn’t tell her, but I did mention the curse that stopped the younger sisters falling in love thing, and asked if she’d heard of anything else like that. Anything age related.
And, being Hermione, she had.
She brought me a book from the Restricted Section, where she’d seen the enchantment involved keeping boys, but not professors, off the girls’ staircases.
There was also a curse involving sterilising older brothers and stealing thrones.
And there it was: Narcofellatio.
Hermione blushed and said ‘goodness’ and I turned the page and we leafed through the rest of the book together.
And when she’d gone, I went and read up on it. It was fiendishly complicated and ancient and who on earth would have cast it on our dorm? A Slytherin couldn’t have got up there - and it wasn’t actually Dark. More like an ultimate prank. Ah. Hadn’t Fred and George come up for Ron’s birthday?
Anyway. That wasn’t the point. The point was, how to break it?
I was right.
It struck people down in order of age, and would cycle for ever unless broken - and it could only be broken by requited lovers finding one another.
I snorted and stared at the page.
We were doomed.
OK, Harry hadn’t had his turn, but he was only reciprocating the climaxes he’d had over the last month.
It was already Monday - how was anyone supposed to find requited love by tonight?
I hid the book in my bag and went up to the dorm and hid my bag and was ignored by Harry and Ron and Hermione and I went down to the Common Room and sat in my usual corner and fretted.
No one was in love with me, but then I wasn’t in love with any of them, either, so there was nothing to pout about.
Harry.
Harry had to suck someone off tonight that he was in love with.
Well, Ron, clearly.
But Ron had already gone down on Harry, and the curse hadn’t been broken.
Requited lovers finding each other.
Lovers.
Well, Ron had a girlfriend, maybe that was why it hadn’t worked?
And that gave me a very small window of opportunity to break them up, didn’t it? And Ron had been trying to break up with her for months, so what chance did I stand?
But, at that moment, Lavender came into the Common Room and sat down in front of the fire.
And I stared at her, racking my brains until she turned and raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew what to do.
“If you’re looking for Ron,” I said. “He and Hermione are up in the boys’ dorm.”
And it was enough.
You should have heard the language!
I went smugly up to bed at gone midnight to find Seamus and Dean snoring drunkenly and Ron settling down to sleep.
Snuggling down in my pillows, I waited for Harry to come up to bed.
****
Yes, nineteen blow jobs in one fic.
I like to think that this is some sort of record.
lizardspots assures me that it is a record for a story of this length, but we don't know how many there are in War and Peace.