Fic: Fascination (Bill/Harry)
Reposting this to my own journal now that the fest is over.
Title: Fascination
Author: juwel_fic
Prompt: #2: Bill really likes Harry's tattoos. Kink: Tattoos.
Prompt submitted by: freakingcrups
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3316 words
Pairings/characters: Bill/Harry
Summary: Bill has a fascination with tattoos.
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): * Gratuitous sex and not much plot to speak of. Also some light bdsm.*
Author's notes: The prompt made me think of what kinds of things Harry would have inked, and thus a story was born. Thanks to hpreader for the proof reading!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Bill understood Harry's fascination with dragons.
He understood it because his brother shared the fascination, and because after all Harry had had quite a fair amount of experience with dragons even before he'd gotten a job wrangling them, after the war. Dragons were simple creatures, much like goblins in that they wanted what was theirs and didn't take kindly to strangers. And they were beautiful and wild, and not generally found around wizards or people.
It was a perfect job for the ex-hero.
One of the nice perks about the job also meant that Harry was able to travel a lot, and he had time off between jobs. And happily for Bill, one of the places Harry liked to visit during his vacation time happened to be Shell Cottage.
Fleur was in France, caring for her mother who had been sick with a rather nasty summer cold, and so it was just the two of them sitting on the beach with toes in the sand, in t-shirts and shorts, reminiscing as a cool breeze pierced an otherwise blazingly hot day.
"So you still don't like the Hungarian Horntails, eh?" Bill asked with a grin, drawing little circles in the wet sand with a long stick. Even years later, he still enjoyed spending time with Harry, and since Ron and Hermione were busy with the baby and Ginny had decided to elope with a Quidditch player for the Brazilian National team, he was probably the most available to spend time with.
Harry snorted, reaching his foot over to put a big footprint in the middle of Bill’s circle. “Still don’t like them. But I have to admit, at least I know what to expect from them. It’s actually the Sylvan Silvertails that bother me. They’re too smart for their own good.”
Bill poked at Harry’s foot with the stick, until he pulled it away. “Probably still easier than dealing with a bunch of goblins. You want to talk about conniving and smart? Cripes. They’re just ruthless.” He squinted up at the sun, feeling the heat of it on his skin and knowing he’d probably pay for it later. Fleur would scold him, of course. “It’s actually rather hot today,” Bill commented.
Harry chuckled. “There’s an ocean right there.” He pointed at the sparkling blue waters.
Bill snorted. “Care to join me for a swim, then?” He stood up, pulling off his shirt. Truth to tell, he was showing off a bit for Harry, who he’d always thought of as rather nice looking. Fleur knew he leaned towards either sex, and she was fine with him having a bit of male arse here and there. That worked out very nicely, as he also let her have her share of fun with the girls. As for Harry, well Bill knew he was bent-very bent-but nothing had ever really happened between them, most likely due to the fact that his youngest brother and his mother would probably have kittens. Ron wasn't the sort to understand the whole open lifestyle concept.
Harry did seem to be paying attention, which was good. As Bill watched, however, Harry stood up, and began pulling up his t-shirt, revealing the inked tail of something curled about his abdomen.
And from there, Bill’s attention was hooked.
“Harry,” Bill said, in a voice suddenly deep and breathless. “Whenever did you get tattoos?” While Harry might have a fascination with dragons, Bill had even more of a fascination-nay, a fetish even-for body art.
Harry blushed, which only made him that much more desirable. “I actually started soon after the war-I was really hurting, and I needed something, some way to move past everything.” He pulled off his shirt and turned around, and Bill found himself almost drooling. Harry’s entire back was done, in images which flowed into and around each other, starting, or perhaps ending with the large dragon at the bottom whose tail he had glimpsed from the other side.
“May I?” Bill asked, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself if Harry refused. But Harry nodded, blushing even deeper and holding himself still so that Bill could touch the subtle colours, following the images. There was a small boy lying on a cracked stone floor-that Creevey child, Bill realized-and there was a close-up of a face looking impish, winking-that would be Fred. And an owl-Hedwig, soaring high above the clouds near Harry’s right shoulder, and just beneath her, a black dog and a werewolf, running through woods together. In the center was the lightning bolt, but it looked like it was bleeding, the blood running down to pool at the feet of the great Hungarian Horntail dragon, which gave a mighty roar, looking triumphant.
All in all, it was exquisite, with just enough color in the details to make everything seem real and alive. Bill traced the images, and he could feel Harry shiver a little at the touch. It made him rock hard. He wanted to touch his lips to those colors, add a little detail of his own in the form of teeth marks. Bill fought the urge, but already his fingers were wandering, down beyond the tattooed skin to brush over the fabric of Harry’s shorts, wondering if there was anything else where he couldn’t see. He heard Harry take a sharp intake of breath and knew he was crossing lines here, and quickly.
Bill opened his mouth to apologize for the way he was acting, but before he could utter a sound, Harry was turning around, and Bill saw it in his eyes, the hunger, the fierce desire. Harry blushed hard, looking down.
“It’s really amazing work,” Bill said, reaching out to gently lift Harry’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. Harry shivered again, nodding, but he still didn’t quite meet Bill’s eyes.
“It took a long time.” Harry smiled sardonically. “I actually found that I liked it, after a bit. It was . . . freeing.” He finally looked up, allowing Bill to see the hope in his eyes, the yearning.
Harry had grown his hair longer-perhaps because it was easier to care for, while out in the wilderness wrangling dragons. Or perhaps it was in emulation of Bill’s own long locks. Bill found himself reaching behind Harry’s head to grab hold of the ponytail, pulling down, forcing Harry to expose his throat, his head tilting back, eyes closing blissfully, so trusting. Bill could just see the tip of Hedwig’s wing on one shoulder, and the golden snitch on the other.
Tilting his head a little, Bill finally let himself do what he’d been craving, touching his lips first to the tattoo on Harry’s right shoulder, then brushing his lips up the smooth column of Harry’s throat, feeling the pounding pulse there, up to the hairline, and then back down again, to find a perfect place to nibble and suck. Harry let out a small moan, one hand clutching at Bill’s arm to steady himself.
The moan, of course, only further enticed Bill. He nibbled along Harry's shoulder, the fingers of his other hand hooking into Harry's shorts and pulling him closer, their chests touching, feet brushing each other in the sand. Through the fabric of their shorts, Bill could feel Harry's hard cock, brushing up against his. He groaned, and finally brought his mouth up to meet Harry's in a searing kiss.
Harry was so beautifully compliant, and yet he was hardly passive, his mouth both hard and soft against Bill's, even going so far as to bite gently at Bill's lower lip as the kiss deepened, blossoming into something Bill never would have expected. When the kiss ended, they were both panting. Harry pulled away a little. "Fleur--" he began.
Bill smiled, pulling Harry closer once more. "She's good with it--actually she's been pestering me for a while, saying I should come on to you." A thought came to him, and Bill dropped his hands suddenly. "Unless, you know--you don't--I mean I would understand." Because Harry probably hadn't been figuring on being molested by his best mate's older brother today, Bill reasoned.
But Harry was smiling. "I admit . . . I've thought about it before." He licked his lips, and reached out to touch Bill's chest, running his hand over the pale skin. Bill knew he wasn't muscular like his brother Charlie, but he kept himself fit enough. They had both filled out a bit from the war days, and Bill definitely had the height advantage over Harry. Bill held himself still despite his yearnings to take Harry, to lay him down upon the sand . . . .
"House," Harry said suddenly, with resolution. "I don't want sand in my bits." He smirked, and Bill grinned, swooping in for another hard kiss. Bill found that he had to catch Harry before he stumbled back, apparently weak-kneed. Harry blew out a breath. "Should probably mention that I seem to be something of a masochist."
"This day just keeps getting better and better," Bill said, feeling a wave of heat go through him. Certain that they'd never make it if they didn't hurry right now, he led Harry towards the house.
Bill wasn't so crass as to bring Harry to the master bedroom; instead he opted for Harry's bed in the guest bedroom. Really, as far as he was concerned, any horizontal surface would do. He did, however, grab a couple items from the bedroom before he shut the door. He set down the items--lube and a Wartenberg wheel--and motioned for Harry to come closer.
Harry's eyes widened a little at the small metal implement, but he said nothing. Bill ran his fingers over the waistband of Harry's shorts, then down the front, feeling him up, and Harry gasped, swaying a little. Hooking his thumbs in the material, Bill slowly pushed the shorts down, revealing more and more pale skin, but alas, no more tattoos. He couldn't help thinking about the one Fleur had gotten on herself as her own concession to his fetish--a dragonfly, right on the small of her back. Funny enough, Bill couldn't bring himself to get his own tattoo. He was afraid he might lose track of anything else and just want to toss off all day.
Once the shorts were pulled all the way down, Bill spent another moment just enjoying the sight of Harry, sans clothing. Harry was blushing, but that only made him that much more beautiful, his half-erect cock jutting out from his hips, pale skin contrasting with the dark ink of that dragon tail curling around his lower stomach. "Turn around," Bill said, because he knew the tats would look even better now, without the distraction of clothing. Harry did so, slowly.
As Bill took a moment to enjoy the sight, he pushed down his own shorts, taking his length in hand and slowly stroking himself as he stepped closer. Instead of merely touching with his fingertips, this time he pressed his whole body up against Harry, cock pressed in against Harry's arse, chest to back. Bill gave a shuddering sigh as he ran his hands over the art and felt the warmth of Harry's skin. "Is it true that the areas tattooed become more sensitive?" That was a particularly fascinating aspect of his kink.
Harry turned his head a little, looking back at him, a little smile on his face. "Yes. It's true." He gave a sigh as Bill reached for Harry's cock, stroking him slowly as they pressed even closer together. Harry's head fell back against Bill's shoulder, and he let out a low moan, rising onto the balls of his feet. "Please, yes--it's been a really long time," Harry said.
Bill quietly shushed him. "On the bed, on your stomach."
Harry got onto the bed rather quickly, Bill noted, and he tucked away that bit of knowledge along with the earlier comments about enjoying pain. Not that he planned to do a great deal today--this was too new, and Harry too precious a friend to botch things up. It was likely Bill would never be able to do much to Harry's back in any case. It would be criminal to mess up all that lovely artwork. But that didn't mean he couldn't play with the sensitivity a bit.
Once Harry was settled, Bill took the tiny little Wartenberg wheel, marveling at the spiral of super sharp points. Fleur was ticklish, and he couldn't use it much with her, but it seemed Harry might actually enjoy the little pinpricks to his skin. He had to be careful with it, he knew; Bill didn't want to actually pierce anything. But the sensation would be powerful, nonetheless.
Bill used just the lightest touch at first, holding the handle carefully and just grazing the skin on Harry's shoulder with the wheel, letting it roll in a line down towards his spine down to his tailbone. Harry shuddered, and Bill's cock gave a twitch at the sound of a low moan. Bill smirked. "Like that, do you?"
He didn't give Harry a chance to respond, but repeated the move, this time starting from the other shoulder and digging in just a little deeper. Harry gasped, his arse clenching, and Bill had to fight the urge to just cover Harry's body again and plunge in. "Merlin, but you're a beauty," he marveled. Harry laughed, but it was a strained laugh.
There was no more need for words for a while after that. Bill tried different touches with the wheel, directly up the spine, along the sides, across the shoulders. Harry was a little ticklish along his sides, Bill noted, but even then it was incredibly hot, watching him squirm, watching Harry as he tried to decide if this was torture or heaven.
At one point Bill decided to go just a little further, pushing in the wheel enough on Harry's shoulder above the tattoos to bring forth a single drop of blood. Harry cried out softly, his hands fisting the sheets in an effort to keep still. "Bill, I--" He groaned as Bill leaned forward to lick off the droplet. "Fuck me, please. I don't know how much longer I can hold out."
Bill wasn't certain how long he could hold things off either, so he nodded and set aside the wheel, grabbing for the lube instead. "I will, believe me. But hold on. There's one other thing I want to do." Something that he knew Fleur wouldn't let him do, something that just seemed right at the moment. "Up on your knees and elbows. You can keep your head down if you like."
As Harry moved into position, Bill set the lube on the bed where it would be within easy reach, and then knelt behind Harry, taking in the sight of tattooed back and pale arse. He fondled Harry's balls, eliciting a groan, and pushed Harry's legs a little further apart, opening him up. "I don't do this nearly often enough," he told Harry. Then Bill leaned forward and ran his tongue up Harry's crack, grazing over his arsehole.
"Unngh!" Harry's cry was guttural, visceral, and when he pushed back with his hips, Bill took the invitation and pushed his tongue in deeper, ravishing him with it, enjoying smell and feel and everything else about the dirty act.
He licked Harry slow and soft at first, wetting his hole with saliva, then harder and faster, pushing in as Harry cried out, sounding ragged and desperate. Bill had to reach down with his hand and give himself a hard squeeze to keep from losing it.
It was enough, Bill decided. He wet his fingers with a bit of lube and pushed in with his middle finger, stretching things where his tongue had just been. He could tell it had been a while by the sounds Harry was making, as well as how he shuddered as Bill stretched him. “There’s the good kind of hurt and the bad kind,” Bill said by way of explanation, as he worked in a second finger. “Wouldn’t want to give you the bad kind.” He pushed the two fingers all the way in, grazing Harry’s prostate.
“Bill,” Harry sounded wrecked. “Please fuck me. Hard,” he added, raising his head a little and giving Bill a wanton look.
That was it, Bill decided. No more foreplay. He slicked himself just a bit, wanting things to be a bit rough, a bit uncomfortable. He kept Harry in the same position, wanting to see Harry’s back, wanting access to the ink. Guiding himself, he found the target and pushed in, firmly, half-sheathing himself in Harry’s arse and reveling in the tightness. Then Harry shifted, and the sensation of that pulled a low groan from Bill, making him sway a little as he sank in deeper, all the way in.
“God!” Harry swore, fisting the sheets, resting his cheek on them.
“Merlin . . . yes,” Bill agreed, letting Harry adjust to him before pulling out and thrusting in again. He’d had other lovers, of course. But all thoughts of the other men faded in the pounding pleasure of thrusting into that tight heat, of being able to see Harry’s back arching with the pleasure of it, distorting the images somewhat.
It was just too bloody perfect. Bill let himself fall into it, the excitement of doing this, fucking Harry roughly, tattoos warm and beautiful under his hands, making things just that much more unbelievably hot. His hips set a brutal pace that neither of them could possibly endure for long, finding the angle that made Harry cry out loudly. He could shout the place down, for all Bill cared.
“May I touch myself?” Harry begged, reaching down but not touching yet, not without Bill’s permission. But Bill had another plan.
“No,” he replied, and Harry reluctantly moved his hand away, back to supporting himself. Bill reached under and took Harry’s cock in hand, pressing up against Harry’s back, feeling the dampness of sweat against his chest, as well as the precome leaking out of the tip of Harry’s member. Bill began stroking him in time with his thrusts, licking the sweat off Harry's back, rubbing his face against the ink, specifically against the image of a flying Snitch, as the signs of his impending orgasm began creeping up his spine.
“Come for me!” he ordered Harry, knowing it should send him over the edge.
Harry roared as his orgasm tore through him, shuddering, his arse squeezing Bill tight as he continued to thrust. It took only once or twice into that pressure to pull his own climax from him, shooting his seed deep inside Harry, feeling it drip down both their thighs. He pulled out, and the two of them collapsed into a heap on the bed, Bill's head resting on Harry's shoulder.
After a few minutes, once their heartbeats had resumed a more normal pace, Harry laughed.
"Wow. Remind me if I ever want to get your attention, to just take off my shirt." He rolled to face Bill, who laughed in return and pulled Harry in for an embrace.
"I'm seriously going to have to ask Fleur to see if we can make this a semi-regular event," Bill replied, leaning down to kiss Harry lightly on the lips. "Maybe we can both get her a present of some kind. Or chocolate. I know she likes chocolate."
Harry shook his head bemusedly. "You really think she'd allow that?"
Bill grinned. "Oh yeah. But be careful." He reached down and swiped a bit of fluid still leaking from Harry's cock, and sucked on his finger playfully.
Harry raised an eyebrow in response. "Oh?"
Bill winked. "Next time she may want to watch."
--fin--
Title: Fascination
Author: juwel_fic
Prompt: #2: Bill really likes Harry's tattoos. Kink: Tattoos.
Prompt submitted by: freakingcrups
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 3316 words
Pairings/characters: Bill/Harry
Summary: Bill has a fascination with tattoos.
Warning(s) (Highlight to view): * Gratuitous sex and not much plot to speak of. Also some light bdsm.*
Author's notes: The prompt made me think of what kinds of things Harry would have inked, and thus a story was born. Thanks to hpreader for the proof reading!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Bill understood Harry's fascination with dragons.
He understood it because his brother shared the fascination, and because after all Harry had had quite a fair amount of experience with dragons even before he'd gotten a job wrangling them, after the war. Dragons were simple creatures, much like goblins in that they wanted what was theirs and didn't take kindly to strangers. And they were beautiful and wild, and not generally found around wizards or people.
It was a perfect job for the ex-hero.
One of the nice perks about the job also meant that Harry was able to travel a lot, and he had time off between jobs. And happily for Bill, one of the places Harry liked to visit during his vacation time happened to be Shell Cottage.
Fleur was in France, caring for her mother who had been sick with a rather nasty summer cold, and so it was just the two of them sitting on the beach with toes in the sand, in t-shirts and shorts, reminiscing as a cool breeze pierced an otherwise blazingly hot day.
"So you still don't like the Hungarian Horntails, eh?" Bill asked with a grin, drawing little circles in the wet sand with a long stick. Even years later, he still enjoyed spending time with Harry, and since Ron and Hermione were busy with the baby and Ginny had decided to elope with a Quidditch player for the Brazilian National team, he was probably the most available to spend time with.
Harry snorted, reaching his foot over to put a big footprint in the middle of Bill’s circle. “Still don’t like them. But I have to admit, at least I know what to expect from them. It’s actually the Sylvan Silvertails that bother me. They’re too smart for their own good.”
Bill poked at Harry’s foot with the stick, until he pulled it away. “Probably still easier than dealing with a bunch of goblins. You want to talk about conniving and smart? Cripes. They’re just ruthless.” He squinted up at the sun, feeling the heat of it on his skin and knowing he’d probably pay for it later. Fleur would scold him, of course. “It’s actually rather hot today,” Bill commented.
Harry chuckled. “There’s an ocean right there.” He pointed at the sparkling blue waters.
Bill snorted. “Care to join me for a swim, then?” He stood up, pulling off his shirt. Truth to tell, he was showing off a bit for Harry, who he’d always thought of as rather nice looking. Fleur knew he leaned towards either sex, and she was fine with him having a bit of male arse here and there. That worked out very nicely, as he also let her have her share of fun with the girls. As for Harry, well Bill knew he was bent-very bent-but nothing had ever really happened between them, most likely due to the fact that his youngest brother and his mother would probably have kittens. Ron wasn't the sort to understand the whole open lifestyle concept.
Harry did seem to be paying attention, which was good. As Bill watched, however, Harry stood up, and began pulling up his t-shirt, revealing the inked tail of something curled about his abdomen.
And from there, Bill’s attention was hooked.
“Harry,” Bill said, in a voice suddenly deep and breathless. “Whenever did you get tattoos?” While Harry might have a fascination with dragons, Bill had even more of a fascination-nay, a fetish even-for body art.
Harry blushed, which only made him that much more desirable. “I actually started soon after the war-I was really hurting, and I needed something, some way to move past everything.” He pulled off his shirt and turned around, and Bill found himself almost drooling. Harry’s entire back was done, in images which flowed into and around each other, starting, or perhaps ending with the large dragon at the bottom whose tail he had glimpsed from the other side.
“May I?” Bill asked, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself if Harry refused. But Harry nodded, blushing even deeper and holding himself still so that Bill could touch the subtle colours, following the images. There was a small boy lying on a cracked stone floor-that Creevey child, Bill realized-and there was a close-up of a face looking impish, winking-that would be Fred. And an owl-Hedwig, soaring high above the clouds near Harry’s right shoulder, and just beneath her, a black dog and a werewolf, running through woods together. In the center was the lightning bolt, but it looked like it was bleeding, the blood running down to pool at the feet of the great Hungarian Horntail dragon, which gave a mighty roar, looking triumphant.
All in all, it was exquisite, with just enough color in the details to make everything seem real and alive. Bill traced the images, and he could feel Harry shiver a little at the touch. It made him rock hard. He wanted to touch his lips to those colors, add a little detail of his own in the form of teeth marks. Bill fought the urge, but already his fingers were wandering, down beyond the tattooed skin to brush over the fabric of Harry’s shorts, wondering if there was anything else where he couldn’t see. He heard Harry take a sharp intake of breath and knew he was crossing lines here, and quickly.
Bill opened his mouth to apologize for the way he was acting, but before he could utter a sound, Harry was turning around, and Bill saw it in his eyes, the hunger, the fierce desire. Harry blushed hard, looking down.
“It’s really amazing work,” Bill said, reaching out to gently lift Harry’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. Harry shivered again, nodding, but he still didn’t quite meet Bill’s eyes.
“It took a long time.” Harry smiled sardonically. “I actually found that I liked it, after a bit. It was . . . freeing.” He finally looked up, allowing Bill to see the hope in his eyes, the yearning.
Harry had grown his hair longer-perhaps because it was easier to care for, while out in the wilderness wrangling dragons. Or perhaps it was in emulation of Bill’s own long locks. Bill found himself reaching behind Harry’s head to grab hold of the ponytail, pulling down, forcing Harry to expose his throat, his head tilting back, eyes closing blissfully, so trusting. Bill could just see the tip of Hedwig’s wing on one shoulder, and the golden snitch on the other.
Tilting his head a little, Bill finally let himself do what he’d been craving, touching his lips first to the tattoo on Harry’s right shoulder, then brushing his lips up the smooth column of Harry’s throat, feeling the pounding pulse there, up to the hairline, and then back down again, to find a perfect place to nibble and suck. Harry let out a small moan, one hand clutching at Bill’s arm to steady himself.
The moan, of course, only further enticed Bill. He nibbled along Harry's shoulder, the fingers of his other hand hooking into Harry's shorts and pulling him closer, their chests touching, feet brushing each other in the sand. Through the fabric of their shorts, Bill could feel Harry's hard cock, brushing up against his. He groaned, and finally brought his mouth up to meet Harry's in a searing kiss.
Harry was so beautifully compliant, and yet he was hardly passive, his mouth both hard and soft against Bill's, even going so far as to bite gently at Bill's lower lip as the kiss deepened, blossoming into something Bill never would have expected. When the kiss ended, they were both panting. Harry pulled away a little. "Fleur--" he began.
Bill smiled, pulling Harry closer once more. "She's good with it--actually she's been pestering me for a while, saying I should come on to you." A thought came to him, and Bill dropped his hands suddenly. "Unless, you know--you don't--I mean I would understand." Because Harry probably hadn't been figuring on being molested by his best mate's older brother today, Bill reasoned.
But Harry was smiling. "I admit . . . I've thought about it before." He licked his lips, and reached out to touch Bill's chest, running his hand over the pale skin. Bill knew he wasn't muscular like his brother Charlie, but he kept himself fit enough. They had both filled out a bit from the war days, and Bill definitely had the height advantage over Harry. Bill held himself still despite his yearnings to take Harry, to lay him down upon the sand . . . .
"House," Harry said suddenly, with resolution. "I don't want sand in my bits." He smirked, and Bill grinned, swooping in for another hard kiss. Bill found that he had to catch Harry before he stumbled back, apparently weak-kneed. Harry blew out a breath. "Should probably mention that I seem to be something of a masochist."
"This day just keeps getting better and better," Bill said, feeling a wave of heat go through him. Certain that they'd never make it if they didn't hurry right now, he led Harry towards the house.
Bill wasn't so crass as to bring Harry to the master bedroom; instead he opted for Harry's bed in the guest bedroom. Really, as far as he was concerned, any horizontal surface would do. He did, however, grab a couple items from the bedroom before he shut the door. He set down the items--lube and a Wartenberg wheel--and motioned for Harry to come closer.
Harry's eyes widened a little at the small metal implement, but he said nothing. Bill ran his fingers over the waistband of Harry's shorts, then down the front, feeling him up, and Harry gasped, swaying a little. Hooking his thumbs in the material, Bill slowly pushed the shorts down, revealing more and more pale skin, but alas, no more tattoos. He couldn't help thinking about the one Fleur had gotten on herself as her own concession to his fetish--a dragonfly, right on the small of her back. Funny enough, Bill couldn't bring himself to get his own tattoo. He was afraid he might lose track of anything else and just want to toss off all day.
Once the shorts were pulled all the way down, Bill spent another moment just enjoying the sight of Harry, sans clothing. Harry was blushing, but that only made him that much more beautiful, his half-erect cock jutting out from his hips, pale skin contrasting with the dark ink of that dragon tail curling around his lower stomach. "Turn around," Bill said, because he knew the tats would look even better now, without the distraction of clothing. Harry did so, slowly.
As Bill took a moment to enjoy the sight, he pushed down his own shorts, taking his length in hand and slowly stroking himself as he stepped closer. Instead of merely touching with his fingertips, this time he pressed his whole body up against Harry, cock pressed in against Harry's arse, chest to back. Bill gave a shuddering sigh as he ran his hands over the art and felt the warmth of Harry's skin. "Is it true that the areas tattooed become more sensitive?" That was a particularly fascinating aspect of his kink.
Harry turned his head a little, looking back at him, a little smile on his face. "Yes. It's true." He gave a sigh as Bill reached for Harry's cock, stroking him slowly as they pressed even closer together. Harry's head fell back against Bill's shoulder, and he let out a low moan, rising onto the balls of his feet. "Please, yes--it's been a really long time," Harry said.
Bill quietly shushed him. "On the bed, on your stomach."
Harry got onto the bed rather quickly, Bill noted, and he tucked away that bit of knowledge along with the earlier comments about enjoying pain. Not that he planned to do a great deal today--this was too new, and Harry too precious a friend to botch things up. It was likely Bill would never be able to do much to Harry's back in any case. It would be criminal to mess up all that lovely artwork. But that didn't mean he couldn't play with the sensitivity a bit.
Once Harry was settled, Bill took the tiny little Wartenberg wheel, marveling at the spiral of super sharp points. Fleur was ticklish, and he couldn't use it much with her, but it seemed Harry might actually enjoy the little pinpricks to his skin. He had to be careful with it, he knew; Bill didn't want to actually pierce anything. But the sensation would be powerful, nonetheless.
Bill used just the lightest touch at first, holding the handle carefully and just grazing the skin on Harry's shoulder with the wheel, letting it roll in a line down towards his spine down to his tailbone. Harry shuddered, and Bill's cock gave a twitch at the sound of a low moan. Bill smirked. "Like that, do you?"
He didn't give Harry a chance to respond, but repeated the move, this time starting from the other shoulder and digging in just a little deeper. Harry gasped, his arse clenching, and Bill had to fight the urge to just cover Harry's body again and plunge in. "Merlin, but you're a beauty," he marveled. Harry laughed, but it was a strained laugh.
There was no more need for words for a while after that. Bill tried different touches with the wheel, directly up the spine, along the sides, across the shoulders. Harry was a little ticklish along his sides, Bill noted, but even then it was incredibly hot, watching him squirm, watching Harry as he tried to decide if this was torture or heaven.
At one point Bill decided to go just a little further, pushing in the wheel enough on Harry's shoulder above the tattoos to bring forth a single drop of blood. Harry cried out softly, his hands fisting the sheets in an effort to keep still. "Bill, I--" He groaned as Bill leaned forward to lick off the droplet. "Fuck me, please. I don't know how much longer I can hold out."
Bill wasn't certain how long he could hold things off either, so he nodded and set aside the wheel, grabbing for the lube instead. "I will, believe me. But hold on. There's one other thing I want to do." Something that he knew Fleur wouldn't let him do, something that just seemed right at the moment. "Up on your knees and elbows. You can keep your head down if you like."
As Harry moved into position, Bill set the lube on the bed where it would be within easy reach, and then knelt behind Harry, taking in the sight of tattooed back and pale arse. He fondled Harry's balls, eliciting a groan, and pushed Harry's legs a little further apart, opening him up. "I don't do this nearly often enough," he told Harry. Then Bill leaned forward and ran his tongue up Harry's crack, grazing over his arsehole.
"Unngh!" Harry's cry was guttural, visceral, and when he pushed back with his hips, Bill took the invitation and pushed his tongue in deeper, ravishing him with it, enjoying smell and feel and everything else about the dirty act.
He licked Harry slow and soft at first, wetting his hole with saliva, then harder and faster, pushing in as Harry cried out, sounding ragged and desperate. Bill had to reach down with his hand and give himself a hard squeeze to keep from losing it.
It was enough, Bill decided. He wet his fingers with a bit of lube and pushed in with his middle finger, stretching things where his tongue had just been. He could tell it had been a while by the sounds Harry was making, as well as how he shuddered as Bill stretched him. “There’s the good kind of hurt and the bad kind,” Bill said by way of explanation, as he worked in a second finger. “Wouldn’t want to give you the bad kind.” He pushed the two fingers all the way in, grazing Harry’s prostate.
“Bill,” Harry sounded wrecked. “Please fuck me. Hard,” he added, raising his head a little and giving Bill a wanton look.
That was it, Bill decided. No more foreplay. He slicked himself just a bit, wanting things to be a bit rough, a bit uncomfortable. He kept Harry in the same position, wanting to see Harry’s back, wanting access to the ink. Guiding himself, he found the target and pushed in, firmly, half-sheathing himself in Harry’s arse and reveling in the tightness. Then Harry shifted, and the sensation of that pulled a low groan from Bill, making him sway a little as he sank in deeper, all the way in.
“God!” Harry swore, fisting the sheets, resting his cheek on them.
“Merlin . . . yes,” Bill agreed, letting Harry adjust to him before pulling out and thrusting in again. He’d had other lovers, of course. But all thoughts of the other men faded in the pounding pleasure of thrusting into that tight heat, of being able to see Harry’s back arching with the pleasure of it, distorting the images somewhat.
It was just too bloody perfect. Bill let himself fall into it, the excitement of doing this, fucking Harry roughly, tattoos warm and beautiful under his hands, making things just that much more unbelievably hot. His hips set a brutal pace that neither of them could possibly endure for long, finding the angle that made Harry cry out loudly. He could shout the place down, for all Bill cared.
“May I touch myself?” Harry begged, reaching down but not touching yet, not without Bill’s permission. But Bill had another plan.
“No,” he replied, and Harry reluctantly moved his hand away, back to supporting himself. Bill reached under and took Harry’s cock in hand, pressing up against Harry’s back, feeling the dampness of sweat against his chest, as well as the precome leaking out of the tip of Harry’s member. Bill began stroking him in time with his thrusts, licking the sweat off Harry's back, rubbing his face against the ink, specifically against the image of a flying Snitch, as the signs of his impending orgasm began creeping up his spine.
“Come for me!” he ordered Harry, knowing it should send him over the edge.
Harry roared as his orgasm tore through him, shuddering, his arse squeezing Bill tight as he continued to thrust. It took only once or twice into that pressure to pull his own climax from him, shooting his seed deep inside Harry, feeling it drip down both their thighs. He pulled out, and the two of them collapsed into a heap on the bed, Bill's head resting on Harry's shoulder.
After a few minutes, once their heartbeats had resumed a more normal pace, Harry laughed.
"Wow. Remind me if I ever want to get your attention, to just take off my shirt." He rolled to face Bill, who laughed in return and pulled Harry in for an embrace.
"I'm seriously going to have to ask Fleur to see if we can make this a semi-regular event," Bill replied, leaning down to kiss Harry lightly on the lips. "Maybe we can both get her a present of some kind. Or chocolate. I know she likes chocolate."
Harry shook his head bemusedly. "You really think she'd allow that?"
Bill grinned. "Oh yeah. But be careful." He reached down and swiped a bit of fluid still leaking from Harry's cock, and sucked on his finger playfully.
Harry raised an eyebrow in response. "Oh?"
Bill winked. "Next time she may want to watch."
--fin--