Compulsion 19
Title: Compulsion part 19 (Which I posted to the wrong journal last night....)
Author: Edana ni Emer
Universe: TV
Pairing: Harry/OC previously, but for now some nice tasty H/B.
Rating: NC-17 for happy smut.
Warnings: Morgan is sneaky, Bob is sarcastic, and Harry loses his temper.
Word Count: 5595
Summary: Sometimes you don't know your own mind. Sometimes somebody wants to make sure you don't.
All previous installments can be found here.
"He's come down in the world," Harry observed, peering around the corner of the building he'd parked his Jeep behind. The address was in a run-down part of town indeed; it might be months or years before anyone bothered with demolition. Morgan stepped silently up behind the pair, not bothering with his concealing glamour.
"Certainly a less picturesque environment than the suburbs," he noted, making Dresden twitch spasmodically and bite off a curse.
"Christ, a little warning, please? One of these days I'm going to keel over from heart-failure when you do that," he complained quietly. Morgan suppressed a smile.
"Be a bit more aware, and you won't get taken by surprise so often," Bainbridge advised, his tone amused. Morgan expected Dresden to bristle, but he just made a face at the necromancer and turned back to is observation of the dilapidated building.
"Do you think he's in there?" Bainbridge asked, more serious now. Morgan shrugged, shrugging his shoulders to adjust his coat.
"Yeah," Dresden said quietly. "He's in there."
Morgan shot a look at Dresden, disturbed by the coldly furious tone of his voice. It wasn't like him; normally his anger burned bright, then burned out, and was quickly gone. He glanced at Bainbridge, to see his eyes closed and his forehead creased in concentration.
"He's got an aversion ward up here, too," he said. "Rather more subtle than the other one. He's learning." And wouldn't Morgan have something to say to them later, when he didn't need their help, about confronting their quarry without telling him first.
"Won't help him," Dresden said grimly. "Ready?" Without waiting for a reply, he ducked across the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings as he moved toward his target. The space of a breath to let him get across, and Bainbridge followed. Morgan took a moment to watch the smooth, professional way they worked, and shook his head. It was such a pity. Dresden would have made a good Warden.
Another beat, then Morgan was across the street as well, keeping the other two in sight as they all took separate paths to their destination, staying hidden as best they could. It was difficult to fool the eye of someone you couldn't see, so Morgan didn't bother trying, using more mundane means of staying concealed.
They ended up crouched by a low window that looked like it would lead into the basement. Morgan questioned Dresden's choice with a look.
"It's this or the front door," Harry hissed in a whisper. "All the other windows are so boarded over it'd take twenty minutes with a crowbar to get in, and make so much noise he'd be able to hear us coming with earplugs in."
So speaks the voice of experience, thought Morgan, nodding reluctantly. He wondered how much breaking and entering Dresden had done, for such an evaluation to come so easily to him. A little jimmying with a pocket-knife and the window creaked quietly open. Dresden lead the way, sliding through feet-first with a low grunt. Bainbridge followed, having to shove a little to squeeze his broader chest through the tight opening. Morgan eyed it and grimaced, stripping off his coat and passing it and his sword through first. It was a tight fit, and he felt a seam give way at his shoulder, but in a moment he was inside, shrugging back into his trench irritably.
The basement room was small, the debris and detritus that filled it leaving i feeling cramped and dingy. Moving at any rate of speed would be nigh-impossible. The familiar weight of his blade in his hand was reassuring, and he nodded his readiness. His turn to take the lead. There was only one exit, besides the window, and he picked his way carefully across the uneven floor.
The door was ajar, a glimmer of light showing around the edges. He crouched to peer through, spotting a hint of movement at the edges of his line of sight. He gestured to the doorway and nodded, looking up to catch Dresden and Bainbridge's eyes. Standing, he laid one hand on the door. Energy sparked orange-brown under his touch, but the wards wouldn't react until they were crossed. Probably to prevent every rat and stray cat from sending them into full alert.
He held his sword at the ready, beginning to channel his own energies into the blade, and gestured toward the door, counting off the beats. One. Two. On 'three' his blade flashed out, glowing golden with his will, to tear a great rent in the barrier that blocked their way. In the same motion, he kicked the door solidly and stepped forward to let it bounce off his shoulder. Dresden moved bast him as he blocked the door's rebound, Bainbridge following close behind. The narrow-shouldered redhead across the room yelped in shock, dropping the glass retort he held to shatter on the ground.
"Hello, Johnny," Dresden said, his voice cold.
It was easy to see why Bainbridge called him 'rat' and 'weasel' as he skittered backward, his rapidly shifting eyes and nervously fluttering hands making Dresden at his twitchiest look positively serene and collected. He cut a pathetic figure, but all Morgan could muster was a weary sort of disgust.
"H-Harry," Dolan sputtered, his voice a nasal whine. "W-what are you doing here?"
"The Tanners, the security guards at the museum, any of this ringing a bell? We've been over this." Harry said, acidly sarcastic. Bainbridge moved to cover the stairs up and out, leaving Morgan and Dresden to block the door they'd come through. "Not to mention what you did to Bob."
Seeing that Dolan's attention was on Dresden, Morgan sidled away, circling around to get behind him. If there was one thing Dresden was always good for, it was distraction. He saw Bainbridge pause and wince, one hand going to his temple, then saw his eyes go wide. The former ghost gestured toward Dolan surreptitiously, then tapped the spot below his collarbone and mouthed 'amulet'. Morgan frowned in confusion. Bainbridge rolled his eyes and held his fists together, then twisted them apart as though breaking a cord, then pointed at Dolan again. Understanding, Morgan nodded.
"I'm sorry," Dolan was whining. "I didn't realize you'd put your ghost in a human body instead of a golem, I wouldn't want you to have wasted all that work."
Morgan heard Dresden growl, and winced internally. That was probably the precisely worst thing Dolan could possibly have said. Amazing how the redhead had managed to hit it on the first try.
"You know, it really fucking bothers me that you're more upset over the idea of costing me some work than you are over nearly killing him," Harry said between clenched teeth. "I mean, I know you don't give a good goddamn about people's lives in general, but at least you could try to fake it. Of course, that would involve you having some semblance of a clue, you piece of shit." Morgan, nearly in position, saw Dolan cringe, cowering slightly before Dresden's verbal onslaught and scuttling away. It got him within grabbing range, and Morgan lunged. He wanted to bring this one in alive if he could. Dolan deserved to have a proper judgment meted out.
His fingers skittered off the boy's shoulder, missing the grip he would have had if Dolan hadn't twisted, eel-like, away. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" Dolan demanded, backing away. He picked up a heavy-looking glass bottle and swung it clumsily in Morgan's direction, forcing him to dodge. The second swing he caught with his sword, and the bottle went flying to smash against the wall. Dolan scrambled away, the candlestick he threw impacting painfully with Morgan's arm. "Get out, get out, get out!" he shrieked, every solid object he could lay hands on being flung in Morgan's direction. Morgan grumbled mentally. This barely-competent twit had laid Bainbridge low?
Dolan tucked and rolled to get away from Dresden's grab, kicking a chair into his leg and making him stumble. Bainbridge's attempt missed as well, as Dolan spun away and scrambled under a table to get past him. "What the hell is this, the Keystone Cops?" Morgan heard Dresden mutter, and couldn't help agreeing. That the three of them should be having such a hard time apprehending one mediocre magician was nearly incomprehensible. This time his grab snagged the back of the boy's collar, and Morgan dragged him back, feeling his fingers tangle in the fine chain underneath. Bainbridge's warning in mind, he grabbed it and yanked, hearing Dolan cry out in pain as the links bit into his neck before breaking.
The chain's parting sent a burning shock of energy up his arm and into his body. He felt his chest seize up even as his legs buckled, and the force of the jolt knocked him into the far wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and the wits from his head, sending him to land in a dazed heap on the floor. He barely registered the continued sounds of a scuffle, the clatter and smash of a table being overturned, muffled curses, and then silence broken only by heavy breathing and the faint crackle of energy.
Morgan pried his eyes open a fraction. It took greater effort than he wanted to admit. Dresden had Dolan pinned up against the wall by his neck, the other hand fisted tightly in the front of his shirt. Magic crackled around his fingers where they wrapped around the boy's throat.
"Harry," Bainbridge said, moving closer to lay a hand on Dresden's arm.
"With everything he's done, and all the times he's managed to get away... tell me why I shouldn't put him out of everybody's misery right. Now." It was almost a plea. His grip apparently tightened, because Dolan gurgled and clutched at his wrist, squirming. Morgan nearly rose to intervene, but reconsidered. If Dresden killed him with magic, it would be no great loss, and it would prove for once and for all that Dresden was beyond redemption. The thought left a surprisingly bitter taste in his mouth.
"Because the Council, for once, is likely to see justice done?" Bainbridge offered gently. "Because he deserves more suffering than a quick death would give him?" He tugged Dresden's hand away from Dolan's neck with little resistance, the blue glow fading from Dresden's hand. "Because you deserve better than his blood on your hands."
Dresden sighed and closed his eyes. Without warning he pulled back and punched Dolan in the face, savagely hard. Dolan crumpled to the floor without a sound, unconscious. Bainbridge offered comfort with a hand on Dresden's shoulder, and it was taken. Dresden turned into him, wrapping both arms tight around his ribs and leaning his temple against the side of the other man's head.
"Thanks," was all he said.
"You'll do the same for me someday, I've no doubt," Bainbridge answered, returning the embrace. Dresden snorted a weak laugh and nodded.
"Anytime," he promised. It gave Morgan pause for thought. While neither of them could be trusted individually, perhaps together... well. If nothing else, they were likely to keep each other busy and at least somewhat out of trouble. It truly seemed that they might be less of a threat together than they were individually. He would have to make sure Mai was aware.
"In the meantime, we'd likely best make sure Morgan is all right," Bainbridge added. "I'm sure Mai wouldn't want him damaged."
"Shit," Dresden sighed, peeling away. "You make sure Johnny can't wiggle away again, I'll see to Morgan."
That seemed to be his cue. The grunt of pain as he tried to move was entirely unfeigned, and Dresden was at his side in a moment.
"Careful," he said, what sounded like genuine concern in his voice. "Don't move yet, you hit the wall pretty hard."
"Yes, it seems someone neglected to inform me what the results of removing the amulet would be," Morgan said, glaring at Bainbridge. The necromancer remained unaffected by his glower.
"If I'd thought you fool enough to do it bare-handed I would have," he said coolly, having found enough rope to bind Dolan into an efficient and uncomfortable-looking hogtie. "I've made sure he won't wake for at least a day," he added, standing and dusting off his hands.
"What was that thing, anyway?" Dresden asked, his careful hands on Morgan's head and back beginning to warm with healing energy.
"I'm not sure it ever had a name," Bainbridge said, crouching at Dolan's side to regard him dispassionately. "It was designed to boost a wizard's powers, but there were problems."
"It didn't work right?" Dresden asked, carefully probing at the back of Morgan's skull.
"Oh, it worked fine--too well, perhaps. But like everything, it came with a cost." He stood and started to idly pace, his voice taking on a thoughtful, teaching tone. "While it boosted the wizard's power, it had to be attuned with a fairly lengthy ritual. Once so attuned, it was... difficult to put aside. Became addictive, you might say. Especially considering the increase in ability it offered. Unfortunately, it also ate away at it's wearer's sanity. The longer they wore it, the more likely they were to lose their grasp on morality and consequence."
Dresden was frowning down at the boy, looking uneasy. "So you're saying it wasn't him? That it was the amulet's fault?"
"Harry, it would take a half-decade of exposure for a normal man to get to the state of sociopathy we've seen from this one," Bainbridge reassured him, nudging Dolan with the toe of one shoe. "It might have exacerbated the madness that was already there, but he'd have had to be quite unstable already."
"Good," Dresden said uncertainly. "I guess." He shook his head. "So that's where he got the ability to do all that stuff?" Standing, he ofered a hand to Morgan to help him up. Morgan took it. He was stiff and sore, but felt better than he by all rights ought to.
"Most likely," Bainbridge said absently, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and using it to pick up the blackened bit of metal and gemstone. Careful not to touch it directly, he folded the white linen around it and held it out to Morgan, who looked at both amulet and necromancer with suspicion.
"I think under the circumstances you'll understand why I don't want my own energies on the thing," Bainbridge said, in the manner of one instructing a particularly slow child. Morgan gritted his teeth and took it, tucking it carefully away in an inner pocket.
"We'll help you get him to your car," Dresden offered. "I'm sure you can take it from there."
***
Harry was quiet on the way home, seeming to feel the need to concentrate on his driving. Bob watched him with concern. Harry had come so close. One flex of his mind and will, and the little rat would have died in agony. He deserved no less, but Harry deserved far more. Especially with a Warden in the room who had, come to think of it, been remarkably lucid upon 'waking up'.
Well, then. It might be best to keep an eye on the good Warden. He was a bit trickier than Bob had given him credit for. Regardless, he was glad for more reasons than the threat of Morgan's wrath that he'd been able to talk Harry down. He might have wanted to take his vengeance in the heat of anger, but when that anger cooled, he would have hated himself.
"Morgan wasn't completely out, was he?" Harry asked, echoing his own thoughts on the matter.
"Likely not," Bob confirmed.
"Yeah, didn't think so," Harry said glumly. "Almost handed him my head on a silver platter, didn't I?" He pulled into his usual spot and turned off the engine, sitting slumped in the driver's seat with his seat-belt still on.
"You stopped, and that's what matters," Bob said, covering one of Harry's hands with his own.
"You stopped me," Harry corrected. "What if you're not there next time?" Bob could see the worry in Harry's eyes, the fear of losing control. He smiled.
"Harry, I'll always be there." And he would, in every way that mattered. Harry smiled weakly and turned his hand palm-up to squeeze Bob's.
"Christ," Harry said on a weary sigh. "I can't believe it's barely past noon. This day seems like it's been about a million years long already."
"It certainly does," Bob agreed wholeheartedly. "Shall we get inside before anything else happens?" The rat's capture hadn't been particularly taxing physically, all in all. Morgan had been the only one injured, and that was relatively minor. His wardrobe had taken more damage than he had, much to his annoyance. Despite that, though, it had managed to be one of the more wearying days in recent memory.
"Let's do one better," Harry suggested, hauling himself out of the Jeep with a grunt. "When we get inside, let's lock all the doors and turn off the phone. Shut the shop down for the day. I can't imagine being able to get anything actually done today, can you?"
"Not hardly," Bob said with a sigh of his own, following Harry inside. They made short work of drawing the blinds and locking the doors. Hopefully they would at least have until the next day before the Council demanded their presence. Right now, he was feeling entirely too out-of-patience to deal with them civilly.
They threw together a light lunch, more to stave off hunger than out of any real desire for food. Harry ate doggedly, his head down. Bob would be surprised if he was tasting a bite of it. When they were done, he stood to clear the plates away, but Bob stopped him with a hand on his wrist and drew him into an embrace.
While certainly none deserved it more than that spineless little twit, knowing what lay ahead for Dolan had to be bringing up some uncomfortable memories for Harry. The Council's interrogations weren't gentle. Harry sagged against him with a sigh, wrapping around him in return almost reflexively.
"One bright spot in all of this," Harry mumbled. "I never have to look at that goddamn book again."
Bob snorted agreement. "Though instead of burning it, you might consider handing it over to Morgan as a gesture of good faith."
"I guess," Harry said unenthusiastically. "Hate the thought of it being in anyone's hands." He sighed. "It's kind of weird, though."
"Hm?" Bob prompted, stroking Harry's hair.
"He didn't try to use anything in the book on us. There was some stuff in there...." he trailed off. "I guess even after everything he still didn't want to hurt me." He sounded definitely unhappy.
"I suppose that was one half-clever thing from him, then," Bob grumbled. "If he had, I'd have obliterated him."
Harry chuckled and pulled back a bit to kiss him. Bob returned it gladly, unbothered by Harry's amusement. If he needed to believe it was a joke or an idle threat, fine. If they were lucky, it would never need to be tested.
The kiss was languid and unhurried, their tongues twining and stroking gently. Harry took his reassurance, his comfort, from touch. It had made the years Bob could not offer it a torment; now that he could it was a blessing and a gift. He slid his hands under Harry's shirts, stroking his fingers across the warm, smooth skin. Harry shivered against him, and Bob could feel him react through the layers of cloth between them.
Harry pulled away the barest fraction, his breath whispering across Bob's lips, so close the heat of his mouth could still be felt against Bob's skin. "Upstairs?" he asked hopefully. As though Bob might actually say no.
They were up the stairs in moments, tumbling onto the bed fully clothed, without ever letting go of one another. Harry clung to him as though letting go would break his heart. Bob caught his hands when they reached for his belt, rolling the two of them over so he rested atop Harry's solid frame, his hips wedging Harry's legs apart. Harry arched against him, lifting them both.
"Easy," Bob murmured, running his lips along Harry's jaw. "There's no rush, we have as long as we want."
"Good," Harry said, nuzzling at his ear. "Because about a century more of this should be almost enough. For a start, anyway."
Grinning his agreement, Bob nudged the collar of Harry's shirt out of the way with his mouth to close his teeth delicately around the tendon just above Harry's collarbone. A flicker of tongue and a bit of suction had Harry's hips rising sweetly against him again.
"Mmm," Harry said, the sound rumbling deep in his throat and vibrating against Bob's lips. Bob mouthed the protrusion of his Adam's apple gently.
"How does your throat feel?" he asked idly. Harry shuddered, and Bob could feel him get even harder through his jeans. His throat flexed as he swallowed dryly.
"Still a little sore," he answered finally, husky-voiced with arousal. Such blatant evidence of how much the memory and reminder of what they'd done excited Harry sent a bolt of heat through his own groin, and he ground down a little into the warm and eager body beneath him. Harry grabbed his waist and pulled him down harder, thrusting against him and searching out his mouth for another kiss.
Bob groaned and pulled away with an effort, sitting back on his heels to slide his hands under Harry's shirts again, bending to lick, kiss, and bite his way up Harry's body as he shoved them up over Harry's head and tugged them clear. He sat back on his heels again, tossing the shirts aside and enjoying the view. Harry shifted on the bed, still not entirely at ease with being so regarded.
He squirmed for an entirely different reason when Bob spread both hands flat on his stomach, stroking and caressing the furred flesh and raking his nails lightly through the coarse curls. Harry was a vision, his eyes falling shut in bliss, his jeans riding low on his hips, his body arching under Bob's hands. He shuddered when Bob lightly flicked his nipples, moaned when they were pinched more firmly, and tugged.
Harry reached down to adjust himself through his jeans, his eyes fluttering open as he hissed at the touch of his own hand. He sat halfway up, his dark eyes never leaving Bob's, and cupped the back of Bob's head in his palm. Threading his fingers through Bob's hair, he used the grip to tug Bob back down to lay on top of him. Bob went willingly, the ache for the feel of Harry's body against his own one that never faded. They rocked against each other, kissing like they wanted to crawl inside each other's skins. Harry's hands roamed restlessly over his hair and back, finally sliding down to grip Bob's ass and pull him in tight. A nudge from Harry and they were rolling together, Bob ending up on the bottom.
Harry felt just as good on top of him as he'd felt beneath, and it freed his hands to stroke and scratch and dig into solid muscle. Harry's mouth trailed a wet, scorching-hot trail down his neck, stopping to close his teeth around the fabric of Bob's collar and tug.
"Harry, if I have to get those buttons sewn back on," he threatened vaguely. Harry chuckled and brought his hands up to undo them instead, the shift in his weight pushing their lower bodies together more firmly. Bob sighed his pleasure and wrapped his arms around Harry to bring him even closer. Every button undone was followed by a hot, thorough exploration of every inch of skin exposed, strong white teeth nibbling at the skin and returning the attention he'd paid to Harry's nipples by nipping sharply at his own. It stung a bit, and he hissed and buried his hand in Harry's hair, arching up. Harry laughed quietly, his breath brushing over Bob's skin and raising goosebumps. Bob tightened his grip and tugged in retaliation, an unspoken urging to hurry up a bit. His wishes were obeyed, the next button slipping open to let Harry scrape his teeth lightly down Bob's sternum, leaving a light, reverent kiss over his heart before continuing on. Another button, then another, each letting Harry continue his tortuously slow downward path. He seemed to take great delight in the way Bob's stomach twitched under his touch when he hit particularly sensitive spots, and the slow clenching of Bob's fist in his hair when a slick tongue lapped at his navel.
Harry paused with his chin resting on Bob's belt buckle, his eyes sparkling impishly. "You gonna stop me again?" he asked.
"Not this time," Bob answered, struggling for calm and to retain some dignity. The battle was quickly lost when Harry nuzzled and mouthed at his cock through the fabric of his pants, even as his hands worked to unfasten Bob's belt. As soon as the pants were down far enough, Harry engulfed him in hot wet suction, as perfect as always. He inched further down, lips and tongue caressing, until Bob felt him gag and pull away with a pained noise. Bob opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed to see Harry grimace, one hand at his throat. Frowning in concern, he tugged Harry back up on top of him. "Rather more than a little sore, it seems," he reproved.
"It's fine," Harry said sheepishly.
"Still, you'll not be stressing it until it's healed," Bob said, a little unhappy that he'd been so rough. Harry had certainly enjoyed it at the time, but.... He didn't miss the flash of disappointment on Harry's face. "Do I have to remind you again about how many other ways there are for us to enjoy ourselves?" he asked with a smile.
Harry grinned and shook his head, straddling Bob's waist and leaning down for another kiss. Bob let himself rub up against Harry's jeans-clad ass, and Harry shivered. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft and his eyes dreamy. "Yeah. That." Bob slid a hand over the curve of one buttock, and Harry licked his lips. "Please."
A nod, and Bob tugged at the waistband of Harry's jeans. "Off." Harry grinned and scrambled to do so, leaving Bob unencumbered enough to reach for the lubricant. Just as well; he didn't have enough focus to call it to him. Barely did he have it in his hand before he heard the thuds as shoes hit the floor, and the flump of cloth as it followed. Harry knelt next to him, gloriously aroused and looking a little uncertain.
"How do you want to...?"
Bob smiled, shushing him with fingers on his lips. "As you were a moment ago," he suggested. It would let Harry largely control how deep and hard and fast, and would let him watch as as Harry rode him. What one might call a win-win situation. He urged Harry to straddle his waist again, letting his hand slide up Harry's thighs to grip and massage that lovely ass, then urged him to scoot closer. A bit of the lubricant on his fingers, warmed for a moment to counteract the chill, and then Bob could feel the tight clench of Harry's body as his hips rocked against his own. Harry whined when he was breached, tightening around Bob's fingers briefly before relaxing into the touch. Bob took his time, gently making sure Harry was as ready as possible, pressing and stroking and sliding in as far as he could from the somewhat awkward angle. Harry kissed him as he worked, a rumble of pleasure coming from deep in his throat. A glance across his prostate earned Bob a full-body twitch and sparked off a stream of needy-sounding noises.
Unable to wait any longer himself, and sure that Harry was ready, Bob slid his fingers free. Harry protested wordlessly without breaking the kiss. The lubricant was a bit too cool for comfort when he smoothed a little on himself, but it was bearable. He used his free hand at Harry's hip to guide him into place. He froze at the touch of Bob's cock at his entrance, but quickly overcame any residual nerves and pressed down. This was so new to him still, and surely still strange, but his eagerness and heat was clearly unfeigned. Bob marveled with what mind remained to him at Harry's adaptability and wonderfully sensual nature. He tightened his hand on Harry's hip at the first wince.
"Slow down," he urged. "Take your time. We're in no rush." The look Harry gave him clearly indicated that he disagreed, but he slowed marginally. Bob, rapt, watched the changing expressions on Harry's face as he sank down; the grimace at the stretch of muscle unaccustomed to giving way in this fashion; the slight uncertainty as he was filled; the shocks of pleasure replacing both as he worked his way further onto Bob's cock. Finally Harry's full weight rested upon him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Bob wiped his hand on the sheets, careless of the mess, then wrapped both hands around Harry's thighs.
Harry let out a deep, shuddering breath, his stomach hollowing from the force of his exhalation. He shifted his weight, his eyes closing as the movement made Bob slide even deeper into him.
"God, Bob," he breathed.
Bob could feel Harry's legs work as he lifted himself up with a sweet slide of skin on skin, then eased back down. He rocked back and forth a bit, an endearingly thoughtful frown on his face as he sought the best angle, the right tempo. His head fell back as he found it, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Every stroke earned a sigh or groan of pleasure, every loving touch of Bob's hands on his legs got a shiver of reaction. Slowly, the pace increased. The bed creaked rhythmically under them as they strove together, Harry's skin glowing golden and beautiful with sweat and candlelight. Bob's own hips rose to help, making sure that every time he slid into Harry's body it was to the greatest effect. His hands abandoned their places on Harry's thighs to scrape down his chest, pinch and twist his nipples again, and finally wrap around his cock. The tip was slick as the smoothed his thumb over it, jolting Harry into squeezing tight around him with a curse.
When he squeezed, Harry groaned like a man in agony, but his thrusts only quickened. When he brought his moistened fingers to his mouth to taste, Harry made a noise not unlike a whimper. He licked his hand clean until no trace of Harry's flavor remained, then wrapped his spit-slicked fist around Harry's erection again. Harry slammed down hard with a grunt, picking up the pace; straining with taut muscles and parted lips. Bob timed his strokes to match Harry's, reveling in the hot, slick squeeze that surrounded him. Leaning forward, Harry braced his hands on either side of Bob's head, using the leverage to shove back more strongly, fucking himself harder on Bob's cock. Bob lifted up to ravage Harry's mouth, never slowing the strokes of his hand. He slid his tongue between Harry's lips like a slow, leisurely fuck, kissing Harry with all the hunger he held for him.
Harry quickly lost his rhythm, his movements going jerky and uncontrolled as he cried out and heat slicked Bob's fingers and spilled over onto his stomach. Bob never broke the kiss, his semen-covered hand moving to clutch Harry's other hip and hold him still, lost in heat and pleasure as he brought his hips up to drive into the tight, rippling sheath of Harry's body. Harry shuddered through the last remnants of orgasm, and sagged down against him, draping himself over Bob's chest and letting him do as he wished.
Bob considered, very briefly, trying to maintain control until Harry could come again, but there honestly wasn't a chance. A few short strokes that had Harry gasping against his mouth, and he spilled deep into that hot, clenching sheath. Harry shuddered at the feel of it, his kiss growing more intense before tapering off as Bob's slow rocks into his body did.
They stayed there for a long while, Harry a welcome weight atop him. Bob linked his hands together at the small of Harry's back, one thumb absently stroking the sweat-damp skin. Harry rumbled contentedly, dropping his face to rest in the curve between Bob's neck and shoulder. Bob turned his head to kiss Harry's temple, smiling. He sighed with regret, and heard it echoed by Harry, when his softening cock slipped free of its warm haven.
"Wow," Harry finally said lazily, his voice a little muffled from the way his mouth was pressed against Bob's skin.
"Indeed," Bob agreed, letting one hand stroke up and down Harry's back. Harry started to shift to the side, apparently intending to move off of Bob and onto the bed. Bob tightened his grip to hold him in place.
"Come on, I've got to be getting heavy," Harry protested, squirming pleasantly.
Bob buried his face in Harry's neck, taking a deep breath of the smell of Harry's skin and sweat, and the musky tang of sex.
"Not at all," he said softly, urging Harry to relax against him again. "Not at all."
Author: Edana ni Emer
Universe: TV
Pairing: Harry/OC previously, but for now some nice tasty H/B.
Rating: NC-17 for happy smut.
Warnings: Morgan is sneaky, Bob is sarcastic, and Harry loses his temper.
Word Count: 5595
Summary: Sometimes you don't know your own mind. Sometimes somebody wants to make sure you don't.
All previous installments can be found here.
"He's come down in the world," Harry observed, peering around the corner of the building he'd parked his Jeep behind. The address was in a run-down part of town indeed; it might be months or years before anyone bothered with demolition. Morgan stepped silently up behind the pair, not bothering with his concealing glamour.
"Certainly a less picturesque environment than the suburbs," he noted, making Dresden twitch spasmodically and bite off a curse.
"Christ, a little warning, please? One of these days I'm going to keel over from heart-failure when you do that," he complained quietly. Morgan suppressed a smile.
"Be a bit more aware, and you won't get taken by surprise so often," Bainbridge advised, his tone amused. Morgan expected Dresden to bristle, but he just made a face at the necromancer and turned back to is observation of the dilapidated building.
"Do you think he's in there?" Bainbridge asked, more serious now. Morgan shrugged, shrugging his shoulders to adjust his coat.
"Yeah," Dresden said quietly. "He's in there."
Morgan shot a look at Dresden, disturbed by the coldly furious tone of his voice. It wasn't like him; normally his anger burned bright, then burned out, and was quickly gone. He glanced at Bainbridge, to see his eyes closed and his forehead creased in concentration.
"He's got an aversion ward up here, too," he said. "Rather more subtle than the other one. He's learning." And wouldn't Morgan have something to say to them later, when he didn't need their help, about confronting their quarry without telling him first.
"Won't help him," Dresden said grimly. "Ready?" Without waiting for a reply, he ducked across the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings as he moved toward his target. The space of a breath to let him get across, and Bainbridge followed. Morgan took a moment to watch the smooth, professional way they worked, and shook his head. It was such a pity. Dresden would have made a good Warden.
Another beat, then Morgan was across the street as well, keeping the other two in sight as they all took separate paths to their destination, staying hidden as best they could. It was difficult to fool the eye of someone you couldn't see, so Morgan didn't bother trying, using more mundane means of staying concealed.
They ended up crouched by a low window that looked like it would lead into the basement. Morgan questioned Dresden's choice with a look.
"It's this or the front door," Harry hissed in a whisper. "All the other windows are so boarded over it'd take twenty minutes with a crowbar to get in, and make so much noise he'd be able to hear us coming with earplugs in."
So speaks the voice of experience, thought Morgan, nodding reluctantly. He wondered how much breaking and entering Dresden had done, for such an evaluation to come so easily to him. A little jimmying with a pocket-knife and the window creaked quietly open. Dresden lead the way, sliding through feet-first with a low grunt. Bainbridge followed, having to shove a little to squeeze his broader chest through the tight opening. Morgan eyed it and grimaced, stripping off his coat and passing it and his sword through first. It was a tight fit, and he felt a seam give way at his shoulder, but in a moment he was inside, shrugging back into his trench irritably.
The basement room was small, the debris and detritus that filled it leaving i feeling cramped and dingy. Moving at any rate of speed would be nigh-impossible. The familiar weight of his blade in his hand was reassuring, and he nodded his readiness. His turn to take the lead. There was only one exit, besides the window, and he picked his way carefully across the uneven floor.
The door was ajar, a glimmer of light showing around the edges. He crouched to peer through, spotting a hint of movement at the edges of his line of sight. He gestured to the doorway and nodded, looking up to catch Dresden and Bainbridge's eyes. Standing, he laid one hand on the door. Energy sparked orange-brown under his touch, but the wards wouldn't react until they were crossed. Probably to prevent every rat and stray cat from sending them into full alert.
He held his sword at the ready, beginning to channel his own energies into the blade, and gestured toward the door, counting off the beats. One. Two. On 'three' his blade flashed out, glowing golden with his will, to tear a great rent in the barrier that blocked their way. In the same motion, he kicked the door solidly and stepped forward to let it bounce off his shoulder. Dresden moved bast him as he blocked the door's rebound, Bainbridge following close behind. The narrow-shouldered redhead across the room yelped in shock, dropping the glass retort he held to shatter on the ground.
"Hello, Johnny," Dresden said, his voice cold.
It was easy to see why Bainbridge called him 'rat' and 'weasel' as he skittered backward, his rapidly shifting eyes and nervously fluttering hands making Dresden at his twitchiest look positively serene and collected. He cut a pathetic figure, but all Morgan could muster was a weary sort of disgust.
"H-Harry," Dolan sputtered, his voice a nasal whine. "W-what are you doing here?"
"The Tanners, the security guards at the museum, any of this ringing a bell? We've been over this." Harry said, acidly sarcastic. Bainbridge moved to cover the stairs up and out, leaving Morgan and Dresden to block the door they'd come through. "Not to mention what you did to Bob."
Seeing that Dolan's attention was on Dresden, Morgan sidled away, circling around to get behind him. If there was one thing Dresden was always good for, it was distraction. He saw Bainbridge pause and wince, one hand going to his temple, then saw his eyes go wide. The former ghost gestured toward Dolan surreptitiously, then tapped the spot below his collarbone and mouthed 'amulet'. Morgan frowned in confusion. Bainbridge rolled his eyes and held his fists together, then twisted them apart as though breaking a cord, then pointed at Dolan again. Understanding, Morgan nodded.
"I'm sorry," Dolan was whining. "I didn't realize you'd put your ghost in a human body instead of a golem, I wouldn't want you to have wasted all that work."
Morgan heard Dresden growl, and winced internally. That was probably the precisely worst thing Dolan could possibly have said. Amazing how the redhead had managed to hit it on the first try.
"You know, it really fucking bothers me that you're more upset over the idea of costing me some work than you are over nearly killing him," Harry said between clenched teeth. "I mean, I know you don't give a good goddamn about people's lives in general, but at least you could try to fake it. Of course, that would involve you having some semblance of a clue, you piece of shit." Morgan, nearly in position, saw Dolan cringe, cowering slightly before Dresden's verbal onslaught and scuttling away. It got him within grabbing range, and Morgan lunged. He wanted to bring this one in alive if he could. Dolan deserved to have a proper judgment meted out.
His fingers skittered off the boy's shoulder, missing the grip he would have had if Dolan hadn't twisted, eel-like, away. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" Dolan demanded, backing away. He picked up a heavy-looking glass bottle and swung it clumsily in Morgan's direction, forcing him to dodge. The second swing he caught with his sword, and the bottle went flying to smash against the wall. Dolan scrambled away, the candlestick he threw impacting painfully with Morgan's arm. "Get out, get out, get out!" he shrieked, every solid object he could lay hands on being flung in Morgan's direction. Morgan grumbled mentally. This barely-competent twit had laid Bainbridge low?
Dolan tucked and rolled to get away from Dresden's grab, kicking a chair into his leg and making him stumble. Bainbridge's attempt missed as well, as Dolan spun away and scrambled under a table to get past him. "What the hell is this, the Keystone Cops?" Morgan heard Dresden mutter, and couldn't help agreeing. That the three of them should be having such a hard time apprehending one mediocre magician was nearly incomprehensible. This time his grab snagged the back of the boy's collar, and Morgan dragged him back, feeling his fingers tangle in the fine chain underneath. Bainbridge's warning in mind, he grabbed it and yanked, hearing Dolan cry out in pain as the links bit into his neck before breaking.
The chain's parting sent a burning shock of energy up his arm and into his body. He felt his chest seize up even as his legs buckled, and the force of the jolt knocked him into the far wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and the wits from his head, sending him to land in a dazed heap on the floor. He barely registered the continued sounds of a scuffle, the clatter and smash of a table being overturned, muffled curses, and then silence broken only by heavy breathing and the faint crackle of energy.
Morgan pried his eyes open a fraction. It took greater effort than he wanted to admit. Dresden had Dolan pinned up against the wall by his neck, the other hand fisted tightly in the front of his shirt. Magic crackled around his fingers where they wrapped around the boy's throat.
"Harry," Bainbridge said, moving closer to lay a hand on Dresden's arm.
"With everything he's done, and all the times he's managed to get away... tell me why I shouldn't put him out of everybody's misery right. Now." It was almost a plea. His grip apparently tightened, because Dolan gurgled and clutched at his wrist, squirming. Morgan nearly rose to intervene, but reconsidered. If Dresden killed him with magic, it would be no great loss, and it would prove for once and for all that Dresden was beyond redemption. The thought left a surprisingly bitter taste in his mouth.
"Because the Council, for once, is likely to see justice done?" Bainbridge offered gently. "Because he deserves more suffering than a quick death would give him?" He tugged Dresden's hand away from Dolan's neck with little resistance, the blue glow fading from Dresden's hand. "Because you deserve better than his blood on your hands."
Dresden sighed and closed his eyes. Without warning he pulled back and punched Dolan in the face, savagely hard. Dolan crumpled to the floor without a sound, unconscious. Bainbridge offered comfort with a hand on Dresden's shoulder, and it was taken. Dresden turned into him, wrapping both arms tight around his ribs and leaning his temple against the side of the other man's head.
"Thanks," was all he said.
"You'll do the same for me someday, I've no doubt," Bainbridge answered, returning the embrace. Dresden snorted a weak laugh and nodded.
"Anytime," he promised. It gave Morgan pause for thought. While neither of them could be trusted individually, perhaps together... well. If nothing else, they were likely to keep each other busy and at least somewhat out of trouble. It truly seemed that they might be less of a threat together than they were individually. He would have to make sure Mai was aware.
"In the meantime, we'd likely best make sure Morgan is all right," Bainbridge added. "I'm sure Mai wouldn't want him damaged."
"Shit," Dresden sighed, peeling away. "You make sure Johnny can't wiggle away again, I'll see to Morgan."
That seemed to be his cue. The grunt of pain as he tried to move was entirely unfeigned, and Dresden was at his side in a moment.
"Careful," he said, what sounded like genuine concern in his voice. "Don't move yet, you hit the wall pretty hard."
"Yes, it seems someone neglected to inform me what the results of removing the amulet would be," Morgan said, glaring at Bainbridge. The necromancer remained unaffected by his glower.
"If I'd thought you fool enough to do it bare-handed I would have," he said coolly, having found enough rope to bind Dolan into an efficient and uncomfortable-looking hogtie. "I've made sure he won't wake for at least a day," he added, standing and dusting off his hands.
"What was that thing, anyway?" Dresden asked, his careful hands on Morgan's head and back beginning to warm with healing energy.
"I'm not sure it ever had a name," Bainbridge said, crouching at Dolan's side to regard him dispassionately. "It was designed to boost a wizard's powers, but there were problems."
"It didn't work right?" Dresden asked, carefully probing at the back of Morgan's skull.
"Oh, it worked fine--too well, perhaps. But like everything, it came with a cost." He stood and started to idly pace, his voice taking on a thoughtful, teaching tone. "While it boosted the wizard's power, it had to be attuned with a fairly lengthy ritual. Once so attuned, it was... difficult to put aside. Became addictive, you might say. Especially considering the increase in ability it offered. Unfortunately, it also ate away at it's wearer's sanity. The longer they wore it, the more likely they were to lose their grasp on morality and consequence."
Dresden was frowning down at the boy, looking uneasy. "So you're saying it wasn't him? That it was the amulet's fault?"
"Harry, it would take a half-decade of exposure for a normal man to get to the state of sociopathy we've seen from this one," Bainbridge reassured him, nudging Dolan with the toe of one shoe. "It might have exacerbated the madness that was already there, but he'd have had to be quite unstable already."
"Good," Dresden said uncertainly. "I guess." He shook his head. "So that's where he got the ability to do all that stuff?" Standing, he ofered a hand to Morgan to help him up. Morgan took it. He was stiff and sore, but felt better than he by all rights ought to.
"Most likely," Bainbridge said absently, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and using it to pick up the blackened bit of metal and gemstone. Careful not to touch it directly, he folded the white linen around it and held it out to Morgan, who looked at both amulet and necromancer with suspicion.
"I think under the circumstances you'll understand why I don't want my own energies on the thing," Bainbridge said, in the manner of one instructing a particularly slow child. Morgan gritted his teeth and took it, tucking it carefully away in an inner pocket.
"We'll help you get him to your car," Dresden offered. "I'm sure you can take it from there."
***
Harry was quiet on the way home, seeming to feel the need to concentrate on his driving. Bob watched him with concern. Harry had come so close. One flex of his mind and will, and the little rat would have died in agony. He deserved no less, but Harry deserved far more. Especially with a Warden in the room who had, come to think of it, been remarkably lucid upon 'waking up'.
Well, then. It might be best to keep an eye on the good Warden. He was a bit trickier than Bob had given him credit for. Regardless, he was glad for more reasons than the threat of Morgan's wrath that he'd been able to talk Harry down. He might have wanted to take his vengeance in the heat of anger, but when that anger cooled, he would have hated himself.
"Morgan wasn't completely out, was he?" Harry asked, echoing his own thoughts on the matter.
"Likely not," Bob confirmed.
"Yeah, didn't think so," Harry said glumly. "Almost handed him my head on a silver platter, didn't I?" He pulled into his usual spot and turned off the engine, sitting slumped in the driver's seat with his seat-belt still on.
"You stopped, and that's what matters," Bob said, covering one of Harry's hands with his own.
"You stopped me," Harry corrected. "What if you're not there next time?" Bob could see the worry in Harry's eyes, the fear of losing control. He smiled.
"Harry, I'll always be there." And he would, in every way that mattered. Harry smiled weakly and turned his hand palm-up to squeeze Bob's.
"Christ," Harry said on a weary sigh. "I can't believe it's barely past noon. This day seems like it's been about a million years long already."
"It certainly does," Bob agreed wholeheartedly. "Shall we get inside before anything else happens?" The rat's capture hadn't been particularly taxing physically, all in all. Morgan had been the only one injured, and that was relatively minor. His wardrobe had taken more damage than he had, much to his annoyance. Despite that, though, it had managed to be one of the more wearying days in recent memory.
"Let's do one better," Harry suggested, hauling himself out of the Jeep with a grunt. "When we get inside, let's lock all the doors and turn off the phone. Shut the shop down for the day. I can't imagine being able to get anything actually done today, can you?"
"Not hardly," Bob said with a sigh of his own, following Harry inside. They made short work of drawing the blinds and locking the doors. Hopefully they would at least have until the next day before the Council demanded their presence. Right now, he was feeling entirely too out-of-patience to deal with them civilly.
They threw together a light lunch, more to stave off hunger than out of any real desire for food. Harry ate doggedly, his head down. Bob would be surprised if he was tasting a bite of it. When they were done, he stood to clear the plates away, but Bob stopped him with a hand on his wrist and drew him into an embrace.
While certainly none deserved it more than that spineless little twit, knowing what lay ahead for Dolan had to be bringing up some uncomfortable memories for Harry. The Council's interrogations weren't gentle. Harry sagged against him with a sigh, wrapping around him in return almost reflexively.
"One bright spot in all of this," Harry mumbled. "I never have to look at that goddamn book again."
Bob snorted agreement. "Though instead of burning it, you might consider handing it over to Morgan as a gesture of good faith."
"I guess," Harry said unenthusiastically. "Hate the thought of it being in anyone's hands." He sighed. "It's kind of weird, though."
"Hm?" Bob prompted, stroking Harry's hair.
"He didn't try to use anything in the book on us. There was some stuff in there...." he trailed off. "I guess even after everything he still didn't want to hurt me." He sounded definitely unhappy.
"I suppose that was one half-clever thing from him, then," Bob grumbled. "If he had, I'd have obliterated him."
Harry chuckled and pulled back a bit to kiss him. Bob returned it gladly, unbothered by Harry's amusement. If he needed to believe it was a joke or an idle threat, fine. If they were lucky, it would never need to be tested.
The kiss was languid and unhurried, their tongues twining and stroking gently. Harry took his reassurance, his comfort, from touch. It had made the years Bob could not offer it a torment; now that he could it was a blessing and a gift. He slid his hands under Harry's shirts, stroking his fingers across the warm, smooth skin. Harry shivered against him, and Bob could feel him react through the layers of cloth between them.
Harry pulled away the barest fraction, his breath whispering across Bob's lips, so close the heat of his mouth could still be felt against Bob's skin. "Upstairs?" he asked hopefully. As though Bob might actually say no.
They were up the stairs in moments, tumbling onto the bed fully clothed, without ever letting go of one another. Harry clung to him as though letting go would break his heart. Bob caught his hands when they reached for his belt, rolling the two of them over so he rested atop Harry's solid frame, his hips wedging Harry's legs apart. Harry arched against him, lifting them both.
"Easy," Bob murmured, running his lips along Harry's jaw. "There's no rush, we have as long as we want."
"Good," Harry said, nuzzling at his ear. "Because about a century more of this should be almost enough. For a start, anyway."
Grinning his agreement, Bob nudged the collar of Harry's shirt out of the way with his mouth to close his teeth delicately around the tendon just above Harry's collarbone. A flicker of tongue and a bit of suction had Harry's hips rising sweetly against him again.
"Mmm," Harry said, the sound rumbling deep in his throat and vibrating against Bob's lips. Bob mouthed the protrusion of his Adam's apple gently.
"How does your throat feel?" he asked idly. Harry shuddered, and Bob could feel him get even harder through his jeans. His throat flexed as he swallowed dryly.
"Still a little sore," he answered finally, husky-voiced with arousal. Such blatant evidence of how much the memory and reminder of what they'd done excited Harry sent a bolt of heat through his own groin, and he ground down a little into the warm and eager body beneath him. Harry grabbed his waist and pulled him down harder, thrusting against him and searching out his mouth for another kiss.
Bob groaned and pulled away with an effort, sitting back on his heels to slide his hands under Harry's shirts again, bending to lick, kiss, and bite his way up Harry's body as he shoved them up over Harry's head and tugged them clear. He sat back on his heels again, tossing the shirts aside and enjoying the view. Harry shifted on the bed, still not entirely at ease with being so regarded.
He squirmed for an entirely different reason when Bob spread both hands flat on his stomach, stroking and caressing the furred flesh and raking his nails lightly through the coarse curls. Harry was a vision, his eyes falling shut in bliss, his jeans riding low on his hips, his body arching under Bob's hands. He shuddered when Bob lightly flicked his nipples, moaned when they were pinched more firmly, and tugged.
Harry reached down to adjust himself through his jeans, his eyes fluttering open as he hissed at the touch of his own hand. He sat halfway up, his dark eyes never leaving Bob's, and cupped the back of Bob's head in his palm. Threading his fingers through Bob's hair, he used the grip to tug Bob back down to lay on top of him. Bob went willingly, the ache for the feel of Harry's body against his own one that never faded. They rocked against each other, kissing like they wanted to crawl inside each other's skins. Harry's hands roamed restlessly over his hair and back, finally sliding down to grip Bob's ass and pull him in tight. A nudge from Harry and they were rolling together, Bob ending up on the bottom.
Harry felt just as good on top of him as he'd felt beneath, and it freed his hands to stroke and scratch and dig into solid muscle. Harry's mouth trailed a wet, scorching-hot trail down his neck, stopping to close his teeth around the fabric of Bob's collar and tug.
"Harry, if I have to get those buttons sewn back on," he threatened vaguely. Harry chuckled and brought his hands up to undo them instead, the shift in his weight pushing their lower bodies together more firmly. Bob sighed his pleasure and wrapped his arms around Harry to bring him even closer. Every button undone was followed by a hot, thorough exploration of every inch of skin exposed, strong white teeth nibbling at the skin and returning the attention he'd paid to Harry's nipples by nipping sharply at his own. It stung a bit, and he hissed and buried his hand in Harry's hair, arching up. Harry laughed quietly, his breath brushing over Bob's skin and raising goosebumps. Bob tightened his grip and tugged in retaliation, an unspoken urging to hurry up a bit. His wishes were obeyed, the next button slipping open to let Harry scrape his teeth lightly down Bob's sternum, leaving a light, reverent kiss over his heart before continuing on. Another button, then another, each letting Harry continue his tortuously slow downward path. He seemed to take great delight in the way Bob's stomach twitched under his touch when he hit particularly sensitive spots, and the slow clenching of Bob's fist in his hair when a slick tongue lapped at his navel.
Harry paused with his chin resting on Bob's belt buckle, his eyes sparkling impishly. "You gonna stop me again?" he asked.
"Not this time," Bob answered, struggling for calm and to retain some dignity. The battle was quickly lost when Harry nuzzled and mouthed at his cock through the fabric of his pants, even as his hands worked to unfasten Bob's belt. As soon as the pants were down far enough, Harry engulfed him in hot wet suction, as perfect as always. He inched further down, lips and tongue caressing, until Bob felt him gag and pull away with a pained noise. Bob opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed to see Harry grimace, one hand at his throat. Frowning in concern, he tugged Harry back up on top of him. "Rather more than a little sore, it seems," he reproved.
"It's fine," Harry said sheepishly.
"Still, you'll not be stressing it until it's healed," Bob said, a little unhappy that he'd been so rough. Harry had certainly enjoyed it at the time, but.... He didn't miss the flash of disappointment on Harry's face. "Do I have to remind you again about how many other ways there are for us to enjoy ourselves?" he asked with a smile.
Harry grinned and shook his head, straddling Bob's waist and leaning down for another kiss. Bob let himself rub up against Harry's jeans-clad ass, and Harry shivered. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft and his eyes dreamy. "Yeah. That." Bob slid a hand over the curve of one buttock, and Harry licked his lips. "Please."
A nod, and Bob tugged at the waistband of Harry's jeans. "Off." Harry grinned and scrambled to do so, leaving Bob unencumbered enough to reach for the lubricant. Just as well; he didn't have enough focus to call it to him. Barely did he have it in his hand before he heard the thuds as shoes hit the floor, and the flump of cloth as it followed. Harry knelt next to him, gloriously aroused and looking a little uncertain.
"How do you want to...?"
Bob smiled, shushing him with fingers on his lips. "As you were a moment ago," he suggested. It would let Harry largely control how deep and hard and fast, and would let him watch as as Harry rode him. What one might call a win-win situation. He urged Harry to straddle his waist again, letting his hand slide up Harry's thighs to grip and massage that lovely ass, then urged him to scoot closer. A bit of the lubricant on his fingers, warmed for a moment to counteract the chill, and then Bob could feel the tight clench of Harry's body as his hips rocked against his own. Harry whined when he was breached, tightening around Bob's fingers briefly before relaxing into the touch. Bob took his time, gently making sure Harry was as ready as possible, pressing and stroking and sliding in as far as he could from the somewhat awkward angle. Harry kissed him as he worked, a rumble of pleasure coming from deep in his throat. A glance across his prostate earned Bob a full-body twitch and sparked off a stream of needy-sounding noises.
Unable to wait any longer himself, and sure that Harry was ready, Bob slid his fingers free. Harry protested wordlessly without breaking the kiss. The lubricant was a bit too cool for comfort when he smoothed a little on himself, but it was bearable. He used his free hand at Harry's hip to guide him into place. He froze at the touch of Bob's cock at his entrance, but quickly overcame any residual nerves and pressed down. This was so new to him still, and surely still strange, but his eagerness and heat was clearly unfeigned. Bob marveled with what mind remained to him at Harry's adaptability and wonderfully sensual nature. He tightened his hand on Harry's hip at the first wince.
"Slow down," he urged. "Take your time. We're in no rush." The look Harry gave him clearly indicated that he disagreed, but he slowed marginally. Bob, rapt, watched the changing expressions on Harry's face as he sank down; the grimace at the stretch of muscle unaccustomed to giving way in this fashion; the slight uncertainty as he was filled; the shocks of pleasure replacing both as he worked his way further onto Bob's cock. Finally Harry's full weight rested upon him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Bob wiped his hand on the sheets, careless of the mess, then wrapped both hands around Harry's thighs.
Harry let out a deep, shuddering breath, his stomach hollowing from the force of his exhalation. He shifted his weight, his eyes closing as the movement made Bob slide even deeper into him.
"God, Bob," he breathed.
Bob could feel Harry's legs work as he lifted himself up with a sweet slide of skin on skin, then eased back down. He rocked back and forth a bit, an endearingly thoughtful frown on his face as he sought the best angle, the right tempo. His head fell back as he found it, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Every stroke earned a sigh or groan of pleasure, every loving touch of Bob's hands on his legs got a shiver of reaction. Slowly, the pace increased. The bed creaked rhythmically under them as they strove together, Harry's skin glowing golden and beautiful with sweat and candlelight. Bob's own hips rose to help, making sure that every time he slid into Harry's body it was to the greatest effect. His hands abandoned their places on Harry's thighs to scrape down his chest, pinch and twist his nipples again, and finally wrap around his cock. The tip was slick as the smoothed his thumb over it, jolting Harry into squeezing tight around him with a curse.
When he squeezed, Harry groaned like a man in agony, but his thrusts only quickened. When he brought his moistened fingers to his mouth to taste, Harry made a noise not unlike a whimper. He licked his hand clean until no trace of Harry's flavor remained, then wrapped his spit-slicked fist around Harry's erection again. Harry slammed down hard with a grunt, picking up the pace; straining with taut muscles and parted lips. Bob timed his strokes to match Harry's, reveling in the hot, slick squeeze that surrounded him. Leaning forward, Harry braced his hands on either side of Bob's head, using the leverage to shove back more strongly, fucking himself harder on Bob's cock. Bob lifted up to ravage Harry's mouth, never slowing the strokes of his hand. He slid his tongue between Harry's lips like a slow, leisurely fuck, kissing Harry with all the hunger he held for him.
Harry quickly lost his rhythm, his movements going jerky and uncontrolled as he cried out and heat slicked Bob's fingers and spilled over onto his stomach. Bob never broke the kiss, his semen-covered hand moving to clutch Harry's other hip and hold him still, lost in heat and pleasure as he brought his hips up to drive into the tight, rippling sheath of Harry's body. Harry shuddered through the last remnants of orgasm, and sagged down against him, draping himself over Bob's chest and letting him do as he wished.
Bob considered, very briefly, trying to maintain control until Harry could come again, but there honestly wasn't a chance. A few short strokes that had Harry gasping against his mouth, and he spilled deep into that hot, clenching sheath. Harry shuddered at the feel of it, his kiss growing more intense before tapering off as Bob's slow rocks into his body did.
They stayed there for a long while, Harry a welcome weight atop him. Bob linked his hands together at the small of Harry's back, one thumb absently stroking the sweat-damp skin. Harry rumbled contentedly, dropping his face to rest in the curve between Bob's neck and shoulder. Bob turned his head to kiss Harry's temple, smiling. He sighed with regret, and heard it echoed by Harry, when his softening cock slipped free of its warm haven.
"Wow," Harry finally said lazily, his voice a little muffled from the way his mouth was pressed against Bob's skin.
"Indeed," Bob agreed, letting one hand stroke up and down Harry's back. Harry started to shift to the side, apparently intending to move off of Bob and onto the bed. Bob tightened his grip to hold him in place.
"Come on, I've got to be getting heavy," Harry protested, squirming pleasantly.
Bob buried his face in Harry's neck, taking a deep breath of the smell of Harry's skin and sweat, and the musky tang of sex.
"Not at all," he said softly, urging Harry to relax against him again. "Not at all."