(no subject)
Author: chibitoaster
Title: Whatever Harry Wants
Characters: Sirius/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1077
Warnings:
Notes: Pretty much what it says there... Whatever Harry wants, he gets. In the shower!
Whatever he wants, he gets. I had decided that from the first time I met the little tyke, nearly two decades ago. When he was laying there in his mother’s arms, cooing, looking up at me with a stupid grin on his face, I knew I could never deny this child anything.
He’d have all the love I never had, and then some. And when his parents, two of my best friends, were killed that night, I swore to myself that I would make sure he’d come to no harm. Little did I know that it would take me another thirteen years before I could offer him any sort of comfort or affection.
Too many near misses, too many close calls. All I wanted was to protect him and give him every little thing his heart desired. The battles raged on, and I was fighting for him. Maybe if I had paid more attention to others, there would be fewer casualties. But then again, if I hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have won.
Maybe if things ended up differently back then, things would be different now. Maybe I would be in a different place. Maybe I would be dead.
That’s too many maybes.
All I know is that when he looks up at me with those eyes, nothing in the past matters one whit, and whatever he wants, I will give to him.
Even if it’s my soul.
Sure, it’s love. I’ve always known it was love. Who couldn’t love him? But somehow over the past two years, since the end of the war, one kind of love has changed into another kind of love entirely. And he’s no longer looking up at me with those innocent eyes of a boy admiring his godfather. Harry asks for promises that take us much further than I’d imagined I could go.
And, of course, I give them to him. Promises of forever, promises of undying affection. Those were easy. I’m his godfather. I’m supposed to give that to him.
Then his expression changed, and he closed his eyes, resting his gorgeous, impossibly-long eyelashes on those smooth, pink cheeks. And when he looked up, he asked me for the one thing I’d been longing to give him for years.
I may have scared him with my eagerness. But his body clung to mine as I held him, and his response to my kiss was, to say the least, eager.
We stood there in the bathroom together. He asked me for my towel. I gave it to him. He asked me to get back into the shower. I obeyed. It wasn’t a long wait for him to undress as the water poured over me again.
And when he stepped in and slid up against me, I gave him everything he wanted. He wanted to taste my cock, and I let him. Oh, all of those dreams I’d been having didn’t even come close to what he was doing for me. Those pretty lips wrapped around me; his eyes closed as water dripped off his wild hair, down his shoulders, his chest, and finally ran in rivulets around his own thick cock.
No, I wouldn’t deny him anything.
Not even when he summoned the tube of lubricant, stuffed it in my hand and braced himself against the wall of the shower. His arms were up on the wall, head on his arms, looking back at me, and that sweet arse sticking right out in front of me.
I would never deny him. Especially this. Oh, I may serve an eternity in hell for this, and I may be cursed from one end of the kingdom to the other, but if he wanted me, he could have me.
It didn’t take much preparation. Harry had apparently been practicing on himself enough to have become used to the intrusion. In fact, when I pressed three fingers inside of him, it wasn’t even much of a squeeze. I leaned over with my mouth close to his ear, and asked him if it was alright. He couldn’t speak, but nodded and moaned, and that was enough for me.
He whimpered as I lined myself up, kissing his shoulders. I think he has always liked the feel of my beard on his face, but in such an intimate setting, I was determined to show him just how good it could feel on his skin.
When he told me he wanted me inside of him, I gave him what he wanted. Sheathed inside of that boy, I could have died happy right there and then. But then he asked me to move. No, he begged me to move.
And oh, it was good. I shudder to think of how many years it had been since I’d been inside someone, let alone someone who was as young and handsome as my own godson. And I loved him. God, how I love him, still. But that time, when he was moaning and begging and doing everything right...
I had set up a frantic pace, watching my own cock slide in and out of his arse. But then he had one more request. I slowed down, reached around and took his cock in my hand. His cock was shorter than mine, but just as thick, and that bright red tip felt so smooth and lovely in my hand as I worked him. He leaned back and begged for another kiss. I thrust in deep, kissing him, stroking him wildly, until he came.
He shot all over the shower stall, and as he climaxed, his arse clenched. I had been close to completion, myself, and when he moaned out how he loved me, he grabbed my hand away from his cock, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked in my fingers.
It was enough to bring me over.
I had known from early on that I would live my life for this boy. But from that moment, I believed that there was something else. In the same sort of wonderful, twisted way, he was living his life for me, as well.
He’s sleeping in there right now. In our bed. Our bed. I’ve stopped thinking about what anyone else has to say about it, and I’m alright with the grief, ridicule, and the looks I get from our friends and family.
Because it’s all about Harry. And whatever Harry wants.
Title: Whatever Harry Wants
Characters: Sirius/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1077
Warnings:
Notes: Pretty much what it says there... Whatever Harry wants, he gets. In the shower!
Whatever he wants, he gets. I had decided that from the first time I met the little tyke, nearly two decades ago. When he was laying there in his mother’s arms, cooing, looking up at me with a stupid grin on his face, I knew I could never deny this child anything.
He’d have all the love I never had, and then some. And when his parents, two of my best friends, were killed that night, I swore to myself that I would make sure he’d come to no harm. Little did I know that it would take me another thirteen years before I could offer him any sort of comfort or affection.
Too many near misses, too many close calls. All I wanted was to protect him and give him every little thing his heart desired. The battles raged on, and I was fighting for him. Maybe if I had paid more attention to others, there would be fewer casualties. But then again, if I hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have won.
Maybe if things ended up differently back then, things would be different now. Maybe I would be in a different place. Maybe I would be dead.
That’s too many maybes.
All I know is that when he looks up at me with those eyes, nothing in the past matters one whit, and whatever he wants, I will give to him.
Even if it’s my soul.
Sure, it’s love. I’ve always known it was love. Who couldn’t love him? But somehow over the past two years, since the end of the war, one kind of love has changed into another kind of love entirely. And he’s no longer looking up at me with those innocent eyes of a boy admiring his godfather. Harry asks for promises that take us much further than I’d imagined I could go.
And, of course, I give them to him. Promises of forever, promises of undying affection. Those were easy. I’m his godfather. I’m supposed to give that to him.
Then his expression changed, and he closed his eyes, resting his gorgeous, impossibly-long eyelashes on those smooth, pink cheeks. And when he looked up, he asked me for the one thing I’d been longing to give him for years.
I may have scared him with my eagerness. But his body clung to mine as I held him, and his response to my kiss was, to say the least, eager.
We stood there in the bathroom together. He asked me for my towel. I gave it to him. He asked me to get back into the shower. I obeyed. It wasn’t a long wait for him to undress as the water poured over me again.
And when he stepped in and slid up against me, I gave him everything he wanted. He wanted to taste my cock, and I let him. Oh, all of those dreams I’d been having didn’t even come close to what he was doing for me. Those pretty lips wrapped around me; his eyes closed as water dripped off his wild hair, down his shoulders, his chest, and finally ran in rivulets around his own thick cock.
No, I wouldn’t deny him anything.
Not even when he summoned the tube of lubricant, stuffed it in my hand and braced himself against the wall of the shower. His arms were up on the wall, head on his arms, looking back at me, and that sweet arse sticking right out in front of me.
I would never deny him. Especially this. Oh, I may serve an eternity in hell for this, and I may be cursed from one end of the kingdom to the other, but if he wanted me, he could have me.
It didn’t take much preparation. Harry had apparently been practicing on himself enough to have become used to the intrusion. In fact, when I pressed three fingers inside of him, it wasn’t even much of a squeeze. I leaned over with my mouth close to his ear, and asked him if it was alright. He couldn’t speak, but nodded and moaned, and that was enough for me.
He whimpered as I lined myself up, kissing his shoulders. I think he has always liked the feel of my beard on his face, but in such an intimate setting, I was determined to show him just how good it could feel on his skin.
When he told me he wanted me inside of him, I gave him what he wanted. Sheathed inside of that boy, I could have died happy right there and then. But then he asked me to move. No, he begged me to move.
And oh, it was good. I shudder to think of how many years it had been since I’d been inside someone, let alone someone who was as young and handsome as my own godson. And I loved him. God, how I love him, still. But that time, when he was moaning and begging and doing everything right...
I had set up a frantic pace, watching my own cock slide in and out of his arse. But then he had one more request. I slowed down, reached around and took his cock in my hand. His cock was shorter than mine, but just as thick, and that bright red tip felt so smooth and lovely in my hand as I worked him. He leaned back and begged for another kiss. I thrust in deep, kissing him, stroking him wildly, until he came.
He shot all over the shower stall, and as he climaxed, his arse clenched. I had been close to completion, myself, and when he moaned out how he loved me, he grabbed my hand away from his cock, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked in my fingers.
It was enough to bring me over.
I had known from early on that I would live my life for this boy. But from that moment, I believed that there was something else. In the same sort of wonderful, twisted way, he was living his life for me, as well.
He’s sleeping in there right now. In our bed. Our bed. I’ve stopped thinking about what anyone else has to say about it, and I’m alright with the grief, ridicule, and the looks I get from our friends and family.
Because it’s all about Harry. And whatever Harry wants.