Smutty Stories

Sun, 12 Feb 2006 17:29:28 GMT

I don't normally rec fics, but I found this one and you all should go read it. Warning - it's sad.

Sat, 26 Nov 2005 15:31:12 GMT

You locked the door behind you
Like locking us out of of your lives
We love you
We want you
We need you

Don't give up on us.

More!

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 13:03:26 GMT

This and the last story are from a longer series, which I'm not going to post 'cause some of it sucks

There were still several people in the hallways and the lobby, but somehow being in my new collar made me feel safe and protected from the strangeness around me, and the appreciative looks of these people toward my Mistress thrilled me too.

Yes, I thought, that’s right. I’m with her. She’s my Mistress. I smiled at a blushing young woman in a thin red collar, and she grinned at me, checking out Mistress Abigail’s rear end as we passed. It felt wonderful.

I drove the rental sports car according to Mistress Abigail’s directions about 2 miles to a small dark restaurant with the simple name “Bill’s” on the front sign in red. We parked in the small lot, which was nearly full, and I opened her door for her and we went in.

The outside of the building was a simple brick building with darkened windows, which made the inside much more startling. As soon as I opened the door for my Mistress the sound of a deep rumbling bass line could be heard, but it was not loud or overpowering. I could hear conversation over it easily, but it lent a club edge to the place. The walls were painted in startlingly bright swirling colors, but the ceiling and floor were both jet black and lined with backlights.

A host podium stood just inside the door, and a woman in a very short plaid skirt and black t-shirt stood beside it setting menus in their place.

“Two?” She asked.

“Yes,” replied Mistress Abigail. “A private booth please if you have one.”

“One just opened up. Follow me.”

We followed her into the dining room, which had about three dozen tables and booths, many of which were currently filled by couples and groups dressed very similarly to us. Many of the men and two of the women were shirtless, and I was mildly surprised to see that this was not limited to people who were in good physical shape. Wasn’t that fat guy in the corner embarrassed to be seen without his shirt on in public?

“If you keep staring, boy, these people will all have something to stare at,” Mistress Abigail threatened quickly. I obediently looked at the black tiled floor as we reached a round booth towards the back of the dining room, which was mostly surrounded by bright blue walls. The booth seat itself was glittered purple, and a red lamp hung over the black vinyl covered table.

“Trina will be with you shortly,” the hostess said, leaving two menus on the table. We slid into the booth, and my Mistress sat herself right next to me, with our legs pressed against each other. This firm touch alone was enough to stir my cock in my khakis, and I smiled. She leaned over so her mouth was nearly against my ear, and breathed gently across the back of my neck.

“I will order for you. Keep your eyes down; you will not need to look at the other patrons.”

“Can I get you two something to drink?” A voice asked. I continued to look at my hands, hoping I did not look to the waitress as if I were in trouble. She most likely knew though.

“I know what we would like to order,” Mistress Abigail replied, pushing the menus across the table.

“Okay, shoot then.”

“Two cokes, mine with slice of lime. Also, two hamburgers, no cheese, with lettuce, tomato, and onions.”

“Fries or baked potato?”

“Fries please. Hold onto the check too. If he behaves himself we’ll be having dessert.”

I smiled to myself with relief. If dessert was a possibility I must not be in too much trouble. The waitress wrote everything down and headed off for our drinks. As soon as she turned her back my Mistress’ hand slipped between my legs, and quite gently cupped my groin. My cock responded immediately to her touch, and she smiled as she felt it harden slightly beneath her hand. The black vinyl tablecloth ensured our privacy, and I kept my eyes firmly on my own hands above the table.

“Now, besides that mistake as we came in, you have behaved well today. I promised you we’d play more when we got here, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Mistress Abigail,” I murmured. Her hand began to slide along the length of my growing erection, and her mouth returned to my neck. She kissed me on my collarbone very lightly. A tiny gasp escaped my mouth as I thrilled at her touch.

Just as she unzipped my pants to retrieve my fully erect dick from my pants the waitress returned, and set the glasses onto the table. Mistress Abigail lifted her hand furthest from me, with a bill in it, and handed it to the waitress.

“Hold our food and give us a few minutes, okay?” She said. The waitress took the bill, winked, and headed towards a different table quickly. Then my Mistress’ hand was back in my boxers, pulling my hard cock free of its fabric prison, and quite firmly stroking it with one hand under the table. Her free hand lifted her drink; she pulled an ice cube between her teeth, and returned her very cold mouth to the back of my neck. I shivered, clenching my hands into fists as she ran the cold ice up to my hairline, and then down my neck to my shoulder. The ice cube melted quickly, leaving streams of water sliding over the front and back of my shoulder. Her hand never changed rhythm, pumping just as hard as I liked it.

When the ice cube was gone her free hand joined the other, and cupped my balls firmly. I grunted with pleasure, trying not to make any sounds louder than the low thudding of the music still playing on speakers overhead.

“I want you to come for me, boy, right in front of all these people. They are not looking though, so stay quiet. Come for me, but don’t get us kicked out.” Her mouth was back next to my ear, so close I could feel her breath. It raised the hairs on my neck.

Luckily I was very close to orgasm already, and knowing that was what she wanted was all it took. I spread my feet just slightly under the table, and took several gasping breaths as I came hard into her hands and onto the seat between my legs.

“Good boy… yes… I’ve wanted that from you all day, boy. Now zip up so we can eat.” She handed me a paper napkin from the table, and I carefully mopped up the seat between my legs while my breath and heart rate slowed. She got up from the table and walked towards the sign reading “Restrooms.” She spoke to our waitress on the way, and before she had returned our burgers were in front of us, ready to eat.

Songficish

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 12:59:59 GMT

“This is a big responsibility, boy. Will you be good and make sure everything is done properly?” My Mistress had asked, glancing at the long list of instructions she had left on her coffee table.

“Yes, Mistress Abigail. I will be good,” I responded. Her instructions were clear, and I had house sat before. I was not concerned about my ability to comply with her instructions.

At least, that had been two weeks ago. It is easy to become distracted and lax with instructions that are minutely detailed, especially when there is no one to supervise you. I was certain that everything would look as though it had been done to the letter when my Mistress returned however. Her cat’s box was clean, her house was clean, her mail was sorted, and her television was set back to the same channel it had been on when she left.

I arrived to pick my Mistress up at the airport Sunday morning right on time, and returned her to the apartment. I carried her bags carefully inside, and my Mistress instructed me to unpack them in the bedroom while she took care of some work in the office. I obeyed, neatly putting her business suit, casual clothing, and toiletries away. When I was finished, and had returned her empty suitcase to it’s place in her closet, I stood in her bedroom and waited.

Eventually, I sat on her chair and waited. My mind wandered. I watched out her bedroom window at some children playing in the park next door. My stomach began to rumble.

The door to the bedroom slammed open, revealing my Mistress glaring at me, nearly uncontrolled rage apparent on her face. I jumped to my feet, startled, and looked at her in confusion.

“Come with me,” she said in a very quiet voice.

I followed quickly behind her into the office, and my heart sank as I saw what was on her computer. A low-resolution black and white video feed showed a picture of me, sitting on her couch, with the remote control in my hand. I realized from the angle that the camera was right on top of the fireplace mantle. Humiliated, I hung my head.

“Must you… be supervised… constantly?” She demanded in a low growl. I felt tears coming to my eyes. I should have known she would have a way to make sure I behaved! What could I say?

“Yes, Mistress Abigail. I think so.”

“You think so? You think? I don’t believe you thought at all. I don’t think you thought of my trust in you, of the well being of my cat, or your own hide.” She took a deep breath, visibly working to calm herself. I was shaking too, terrified that she would simply cast me out and tell me to never return. I wanted to curl up on the floor, cry, and beg her forgiveness, but I could think of nothing that would help the situation so I waited.

“You have a choice. You can leave. Now. This can end. Now. Or… you may stay, and take what punishment I feel is necessary. If, during your punishment, you feel that it has surpassed your limits, you will safe word, dress, and leave. You will not return. If you are still here when I am done punishing you, perhaps… perhaps you will not have to go. Do you understand?” She asked. Her voice was low and firm. This was not up for discussion, even if I had felt I could discuss it with her.

“I… I understand Mistress Abigail. I will stay. I will take your punishment. I wish to show you I am sorry.”

“You will be far more than sorry, you stupid boy. You will beg my forgiveness, and still I will not be done punishing you.” She paused, still calming herself with deep breaths. “Do you have sick time available to you at work?”

“Yes Mistress Abigail. I have four days sick time.” I responded.

“Call your workplace. Leave a message saying you will be out tomorrow. Leave my number saying they can speak with you here. Then go to the bedroom. Strip naked, and leave your clothing folded neatly on the chair.”

“Yes Mistress Abigail.” I fled from the room, not quite running, and rushed to the nearest telephone. I dialed work, and left a brief message on my boss’ answering machine. I knew he would not call, but I left the number anyway. Then I continued into the bedroom as my Mistress closed the curtains in her living room and pulled open the door to the living room closet. I was naked as quickly as possible, and stood, with silent tears sliding down my cheeks.

I could hear the sound of wood and metal from the living room, but my Mistress did not call for me. I waited, wondering what she was doing, and growing chilly from standing naked in her bedroom. Nonetheless, I waited longer, until I was sobbing quietly, my shoulders shaking. Would she give more than I could take? Would I use my safe word under her lash, and leave in disgrace? I was willing to risk the possibility, but I was terrified.

After long minutes, my sobbing calmed, and I stood sniffing. My Mistress appeared in the doorway, and crossed to her closet. She pulled her traveling clothes off one piece at a time, and left them on the floor. The she turned to me, her naked body showing tense muscles.

“Put these in the laundry hamper,” she ordered, motioning briefly to the clothing. “Then take my toy chest into the living room, and leave it next to the cross I set up. Wait for me there.”

She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower as I carefully put her clothing into the hamper. Then I lugged the large chest from the foot of her bed out into the living room, where she had set up a large black cross against a wall that was usually empty. She had moved a loveseat slightly to one side, but it was clear that this part of the wall had been used for this cross before. In fact, I could see small marks on the green wallpaper left by the cross’ black paint on some previous occasion.

When the toy chest was set in front of the TV I waited again, but this time not for very long before the shower turned off. I heard rustling for a few minutes, and then Mistress Abigail appeared again in the doorway. She had dressed in a pair of slightly scuffed combat boots, a black satin skirt that barely covered her bottom, and a black satin bra. Her long hair was wrapped up in a bun held by two black sticks.

My Mistress crossed to the chest, opened it with a combination I could not see, and inspected the contents. She pulled out first a black collar that I had worn many times before, and placed it around my neck. Then she added a padlock to the back of it, and snapped it in place. I stood passively, still sniffing when necessary. Then she pulled a small black contraption from the box, and applied the leather cage to my genitals. It was a series of small black straps that effectively bound my cock and balls quite firmly. I doubted I would be fully aroused any time soon, but I could tell if I were that it would be an uncomfortable experience. A small metal ring was attached to the top of the cage, and my Mistress attached to that a chain that eventually led up to a pair of cloverleaf clamps. She applied these unceremoniously to my nipples.

This hurt. It was the first bit of genuine pain I had felt from her this day, and some small amount of relief came from that. If I was hurting, she would be feeling better. As long as I was hurting I was doing penance for my misbehavior.

The last thing I saw come out of the chest was a black blindfold. She set this around my face, blocking my sight of what she could be doing.

“Can you see?” She asked.

“No Mistress Abigail.”

Finally, she turned me around, and set my body against the cross. The chains on my nipples pulled slightly against it, sharpening the pain for a moment. I breathed through it, and kept quiet. I felt fur lined cuffs placed gently around my wrists, and then they were connected to the cross with my arms out and up. The same was done to my ankles, making my lean some of my weight onto the cross. I relaxed against it, with my head rocking forward slightly. It wasn’t uncomfortable… yet.

I felt a soft round ball being placed into one of my hands.

“This is your safe word. If you drop this ball, I will stop. Remember… if you safe word, if you drop this ball, I stop forever. Not just for today. Understand?”

“I understand Mistress Abigail,” I replied. I squeezed the ball, determined to hold on tightly.

I could hear her walk away a small way, and then the click of something electronic. Then, without much warning, loud music filled the room. The beat was fast and electronic, with a heavy thuddy back beat. It was the sort of music I thought of when I pictured what the inside of a major S&M club might be, though I had never been to something so public. There were no lyrics, at least at first.

Along with the thudding of that heavy back beat came blows on my upper back. I recognized Mistress Abigail’s light leather flogger, and the gentler touch she used when just starting out a session of flogging. The only part that hurt yet was the slight tug on my nipples with every hit, but these numbed slightly as the blows came harder and became painful in their own right.

The music seemed to bore into my skull, melding with the slowly growing pain of the leather on my back. Between songs my Mistress switched to a heavier flogger, bringing a deeper pain into the beating, and renewed the twinge of the clamps on my nipples. This pain was beginning to bring a reaction from the rest of my body, and I could feel goose bumps on my arms and legs, as well as the beginning of swelling in my groin. I couldn’t help but respond to this kind of bearable pain with an erotic response; the ideas had been too intertwined for me for a long time now. I breathed deeply both to tolerate the pain and to try to will my cock to relax.

My hand stayed firmly closed around the ball, because I felt in someway like it was my only connection to the woman hitting me. I could not hear her at all over the loud music, or even the sound of the flogger coming through the air toward me. I could hear it hit my body, but her sense of rhythm was perfect, and the thudding of leather on flesh melded into the industrial tones perfectly.

Eventually the repeated hits from the flogger were hurting badly enough that I could feel myself buckling at the knees. I was panting heavily, and would have asked her to stop if this was any other day. But because I knew if I did so I would not see her again, and because I trusted her not to do me serious injury, I held the soft ball just as tightly, and tried to focus on something else. My cock was limp again now, and my nipples totally numb, which could have been counted as a blessing, except that it only forced me to focus more on the repeated impact of her flogger.

The fourth song ended, and the blows stopped just as abruptly. Then a new sound came in, of a distinctly different song.

Tell myself, on the ride home.
Getting tired, hating all I've known.
Holding on, like it's all I have.
Count me out, when it's clear that I find it hard to say.
And you find it hard to care.

I focused on the lyrics, trying to breath off some of the agony in my back. I could hear Mistress Abigail moving behind me, and then coming up beside me. She reached over and unclipped the clamps on my nipples, causing me to cry out in pain. I couldn’t help it; the pain was just totally different and unexpected.

“Shut up boy, and listen.”

I wanted to see something that's different; something you said would change in me.
Wanted to be, anything different, everything you would change in me.

I did not know the song, but I listened to the best of my ability, thinking that changing sounded very good to me right now. I wanted to change; I wanted to be her good boy…

Got this way, upfront but never true.
God I'm wrong, it's just the way I am.
Crashing down, any chance you hear.
Caving in, any chance that you could see inside of me.
And I, I'll know what to say, It's fine.
This isn't Hollywood.
So fine, getting in your way.

Mistress Abigail’s hand came down on my bottom almost gently, once, then twice, following every other beat in the already slow song. She was somewhere between patting me and hitting me, just gently enough that it made no noise. My cock perked up to this sensation, however, sending it into it’s own uncomfortably contained world.

I wanted to see something that's different, something you said would change in me.
Wanted to be, anything different, everything you would change in me.

I'm taking a chance, this could be different.
This could be all I'm waiting for.
Taking a chance, this could be different.
This could be all I'm waiting for.

When the song ended I realized I was crying again. It wasn’t just the pain in my back, or the discomfort of the near-spanking and near-hard-on I was experiencing. It was also that the song had pretty much identified how I was feeling. I did want to be her good boy, I did want to behave for her, and I did want to be a very different person than the lazy jerk this experience had shown me to be.

There was a long pause after the song, and then a slower version of the heavy industrial rock that had been playing earlier returned. My Mistress’ spanking increased with it, in both tempo and force. Soon, she was coming down as hard on my ass as she had been on my back. After one song she switched to a paddle, and got both cheeks until they stung so badly I expected that I would not be able to sit for several days.

I was sagging at the knees again, allowing the cross and my wrist cuffs to hold me up. Tears had soaked the blindfold and I could nearly hear my own sobbing over the mind-pounding beat of the music.

After the second heavy song the music ended, leaving a ringing in my ears. I was acutely aware of the heaviness of my Mistress’ breathing, and I was not surprised that she chose that time to unhook first my ankles, and then my wrists from the cross. I collapsed on the floor, unable to hold myself up, and kneeled there, panting and sobbing for a few long minutes while I heard my Mistress moving about and turning on a faucet. She returned, and pulled my blindfold off my face. The room was darker, lit only by the light from her bedroom, and she was holding a large glass of water out to me.

“Drink,” she commanded. I did, swallowing the full glass even though my stomach was clenched. She reached down and unclipped the chain from the cage round my cock, and tossed it, the leather cuffs, and the blindfold into the toy box, which she then closed and locked.

“Lay down,” she ordered. I flopped onto the carpet, shaking as the room spun around me. She went back into the kitchen, refilled the glass, and set it on top of the toy chest.

“You may have more water if you need it. You may use the second bathroom if you need it. Otherwise, stay there. I will see you when I am ready. I suggest you try to sleep.”

She turned, and went into her room and closed the door. I closed my eyes in the darkness and began to cry again.

It wasn’t until I had nearly fallen asleep that I realized I was still holding the small soft ball in my tightly clenched fist

Another just a story

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 12:58:11 GMT

“Kneel… here,” he instructed, guiding her knees toward the arm of the couch. She kneeled on the cushion and placed her hands on the arm, looking over her shoulder at her Master. He smiled at her, with a long hungry look at her naked form, and reached into the duffle bag beside the couch. He pulled out a length of black rope and a short spreader bar. The bar was placed between her ankles, and he proceeded to bind her ankles to it with the rope, wrapping it several times around each ankle.

“Give me your left hand,” he said when her ankles were quite firmly bound. She placed her left hand behind her, and he took it, pulling back and down firmly, until the wrist met with her left bound ankle. He ran the rope through the d-ring on her thick black wrist cuff, and back through the eye screw on the spreader bar, finally tying the end of the rope off. Her body was forced to double over, leaving her rear in the air, and she continued to look over her shoulder at him, now with surprise in her eyes.

“Give me your right hand,” he continued, and this hand met the right ankle in the same fashion. Now all of her weight was on her knees on the couch cushion, and on her head with rested on the arm, turned to the side. She watched as he tied the final knot, and the surprise in her eyes was replaced by hunger and a little fear.

Knowing the position would not be comfortable for long, her Master immediately placed a hand between her legs, covering her displayed cunt with the palm of his hand, and teasing at her clit. He inhaled with her gasp, watching her back arch with the sensation, and pulled at his belt with his free hand. He was shirtless already, and left his black jeans on the floor next to his duffle bag. As soon as he was in only his boxers, and heavy boots, he pulled his hand back from her genitals, and inserted two fingers deeply into her. She moaned into the soft arm of the couch.

“Oh, like that do you?”

“Yes… Yes Sir.”

“Do you want to be fucked, girl? You want your Master to fuck you?”

“Yes Sir. Please… oh… please fuck me,” she moaned, pushing her body backwards to meet his thrusting fingers. He pulled his cock from his boxers, running his hand along the hardening length with no hurry.

“I’m not ready to fuck you yet. Will you make me ready, slut?”

“Let me suck you, Master. Please…”

He stood, pulling his hand from her again, and she whimpered slightly with the loss of pleasure. He came around to the arm of the couch, and she lifted her head, struggling to reach him. Her squirms went a long way to bringing him to full hardness, and he was nearly ready when he brought the head of his cock to her mouth. Her lips closed around him greedily, and he pushed slowly into her warm mouth. A slow breath came between his lips as he placed one hand behind her head, making his control over her complete. His fingers wrapped in her hair as he pushed her head toward him, and he let her suck eagerly for a few long minutes.

“That’s my good little cocksucker. Take it all for your Master.” She closed her eyes, relaxing and letting him fill her throat. She ran her tongue firmly along the underside of his dick as he pulled back. Her neck would get stiff quickly he knew, so he pulled away before he really wanted to, letting his girl relax her head against the couch arm. He untangled his fingers from her hair gently, and ran his hand through it once, barely letting the pads of his fingers touch her neck. She turned her face over her other shoulder, stretching the muscles as he came back around to her spread bottom.

“What a little whore you are, so eager for my cock.” His fingers entered her again, easily sliding in. She was very wet now, and he teased the sensitive spots inside her until she writhed against his hand. His thumb rubbed against her clit, firmly but not quite enough to hurt her. His free hand stayed on his own groin, but the sensation of her wetness and tensing muscles was far better for keeping him ready than his own hand could ever be.

Finally he pulled his hand out of her, and kneeled behind her, pulling back on her hips with his dry hand. He pushed the wet fingers of his left hand into her mouth as his cock entered her, and she sucked them with as much abandon as she had sucked his cock earlier. His right hand gripped her hips as he began to thrust firmly and she grunted around her mouthful of sticky hand.

“You clean up your messes, that’s right. Lick them clean like a good girl,” he instructed, and her tongue wrapped around the base of his fingers until she gagged on them and he pulled his hand away. Still sticky and wet with saliva, he pushed his hand into her hair, and took a handful of her short blond curls. Still thrusting with long firm strokes, he pushed her face down into the cushioned arm of the couch, and watched as her shoulders tensed with her urge to get free. She wiggled, making his cock ache with its hardness, and he sped his rhythm. He pulled back on her hair just as it became clear to her that she really couldn’t move, and pushed her head to the side.

His hands stayed gripping her hair and her hip as he fucked her, feeling his own urgency build. She was moaning with pleasure and frustration as he gasped in his own lust. Every time she squirmed beneath him he came closer to orgasm, until finally he felt the pressure was too much to hold onto any longer.

“Tell me you want me to come for you,” he hissed.

”P…P…Please Master… Please come for me. I want you to come inside me, please Sir…” she begged, gasping as she spoke. He shuddered, letting go of her hair and grabbing her hips with both hands as he thrust into her as hard as he could, coming in waves of release.

When he pulled away from her, struggling to catch his breath, the room spun around his head. He tried to concentrate, pulling at the knots on her bindings to set her free. Finally, as the final coil around her ankles came free, he allowed himself to collapse in a heap on the floor. She joined him, sweaty and panting, until they would recover enough to continue their day.

Just a story

Sat, 05 Nov 2005 12:56:31 GMT

She lay quietly on the warmed red flannel sheet I had spread on my bed, with her eyes hidden behind a soft blindfold. The black collar shone against her flushed skin, and the light of a dozen candles jumped in reflections off the metal handcuffs around her wrists. Now that she was blinded I pulled my shirt over my head, and folded it on top of the clothing she had worn here. My jeans bulged over the hard cock in them, larger than she normally liked. It felt unusually heavy to me, grounding me in my place as Master.

I could see her head tilt just slightly, trying to tell what I was doing by sound. I lifted a bottle of oil from the table next to the bed, and let some of it pour into my hand. It was warm already from sitting so close to the candles, and I carefully rubbed it evenly over her shoulders, back, and bottom, leaving a very faint sheen on her skin. It smelled very slightly of cinnamon and cloves. She relaxed further onto the bed, smiling just slightly, and I felt myself smile too. It was a good thing she couldn’t see the mischievous twinkle my smile held.

The next thing I lifted from the table was a large glass enclosed paraffin candle. I laid my left hand gently on her bottom, feeling the smoothness of her skin and the slight slick of oil there, and tilted the candle just enough to drip several large clear drops of oil onto her upper back. She gasped, and her muscles jumped slightly with surprise.

“Don’t move,” I commanded, managing to sound quite serious through my delight. My hand rubbed her bottom now, as I tilted the candle further, and closer to her back. Hotter and thicker wax hit her pale skin, but she managed to stay still and breath deeply through the sensation. I paused for a moment, and then moved the candle lower, to the sensitive small of her back, and began to drip there, in small drops at first, and then with more, letting it run over her sides to her stomach. Her forehead bunched for a moment, but she immediately forced it to relax.

I tilted the candle again, leaving a second stream of wax next to the last one, leaving the skin around it pink.

Several inches of wax had melted in the candle, and I used all of it, leaving most of her back covered in a thin layer of white cooling material. When the candle had nothing left to give me, I set it down, and could immediately see the twitch of disappointment around her lips. That was okay. She was warm and pink now, her nerves quite prepared for more.

I ran my hand over her back, and most of the wax came up from the oil immediately. It came off in three large pieces, and I dropped them quickly into the trash, admiring the red glow of her skin under.

I stood for a moment, next to the bed, and unzipped my jeans. I let them fall to the ground and left them there.

“Put your bottom in the air, but do not move your elbows,” I instructed. She did, bending her knees, but leaving her arms on the bed. “Spread your knees.” She did this too, leaving her pussy right where I could see it. I pulled the hard cock out of my boxers, and the bottle of lube from next to the oil. I crawled back up onto the bed behind her, touching my warm cock to the back of her thigh as I stroked the lube onto it. Then I laid two fingers against her clit, running them very lightly backwards.

“Are you warm for me yet, girl?”

“Yes Master.”

“Are you wet for me?”

“Yes Master.”

“Do you want my cock inside you?”

“Yes Master, I do… please fuck me.” She responded. I was pretty sure she actually meant it. I slid my first finger inside her, despite my own urging to take her quite roughly and immediately.

“Slut. All you want from me is a good fucking, isn’t it?” I pulled my finger out of her and smacked it across her bottom with just enough force to create a good sound. She jumped.

“Oh, please fuck me Master!” She responded, her eyebrows knitting as she tried to keep her elbows in one place and rock back towards me at the same time. I kneeled up closer to her, with my cock resting just below her body so it would brush against her clit when she moved her hips. Then I reached for the last thing I had left on the bedside table, leaning much of my body against hers as I did so.

As the ice touched her warm back she did shriek, arching her back, and then moaned with real agony. Somehow, despite my hopes, her elbows did not move. But I used my free hand to guide my cock into her then, filling her gently but quickly, and quite completely. I knew that hurt too, at least a little, but she had asked for it. I moved the ice along the lines where the wax had so recently been, and she bucked against my pelvis making me gasp with the pleasure of her movements.

“Tell me you like it, slut. Tell me how good my cock feels,” I urged, grunting just slightly as I tried to pull her into a rhythm with me with the ice-free hand.

“Oh god… fuck me, Master. Your… cock feels… so good. Yes…” She was whimpering, and I suspected she was caught between the pain and pleasure of the moment, but I had quit caring. When the ice had fully melted I pulled back on her hips with both hands, pushing myself into her with a slow but firm rhythm.

“You’re a good slut for me,” I told her. “I love being inside your tight pussy, especially when you squirm for me.” I grunted and moaned through a few more minutes of steady thrusting, trying not to be so hard or so fast that I would hurt her in such a way that it would limit her later, but it wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to come for you, little whore? Do you want your Master’s come now.”

“Yes…” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Yes… Master. Please come for me.”

If I had not feared hurting her I suspected I could most likely have come for real, shoving myself into her full force. Instead, I let myself give her the show she wanted, as noisy as I dared, and pulled my cock away before I would let myself give in to more primal urges. I pulled myself up next to her on the bed, and she relaxed, laying back down on her stomach and shivering slightly. I wrapped an arm around her, and watched the candle flames for a moment before we finished our scene.

What It Feels Like

Fri, 27 Aug 2004 04:00:53 GMT

Title: What It Feels Like
Author: Deviantfics
Characters: Seamus Finnigan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, Song is property of Madonna.
Setting: Hogwarts, 4rd year.
Warnings: Underage character (15), wanking, cross-dressing, gender-angst, psudo-slash (if slash squicks you, I bet this will too).
Songfic: What it Feels Like for a Girl - Madonna, "Music"

What It Feels Like

You think that being a girl is degrading
But secretly you'd love to know what it's like
Wouldn't you
What it feels like for a girl

Seamus closed the door to his dorm room gently, looking around carefully to be certain none of his classmates were there studying or napping. It was unlikely that anyone would be indoors durring a Hogsmead visit, but it was best to check before he did anything that could prove embarasing. As it turned out, no one was there, so he confidently strode to his bed, and pulled a log flat box out from under it. The box had a mudane lock on it, purchased from a muggle hardware store. He spun the knob with ease, the combination coming to his fingers as naturally as writing his own name.

When the box opened, Seamus smiled slightly, feeling a nearly immediate tightening in his groin. He stood, pulling all of his clothing off and haphazardly tossing them onto his trunk, before standing naked over his prized possesions. Anticipation tingled up his spine, and he waited a moment to savor it. He’d waited all week for a short time alone, and he didn’t want it to rush away when his freedom had finally arrived.

Finally, he bent over to pull a thin pair of white satin panties off the top of the pile in the box, and carefully stepped into them. A matching heavily padded bra followed the panties out of the box, and Seamus spent a long moment adjusting it carefully before covering the bra with a pale pink satin blouse. The fabric fluttered slightly under his hands, soft and luxurious. He ran one hand over it before securing each small plastic botton carefully. He pulled on a short navy skirt with pink pinstripes, and carefully tucked the shirt in, with his fingers barely brushing against his half hard cock as he did. The zipper on the hip closed the skirt too easily; it had room in the hips he did not fill out.

He reached for the final touch from the box - a long curly blond wig. The wig was not in perfect condition. A few mats had begun in the curls from sitting in a box, and it was getting dusty. Seamus carefully shook it out, and placed it gently over his own hair. He adjusted the hairline twice, knowing without looking that it didn’t look right anymore. Still, it was better than his own short thin haircut.

</i>Strong inside but you don't know it
Good little girls they never show it</i>

Seamus turned, running one hand along his body, and stepped in front of a tall brass fixtured mirror. He looked around the room once more, event though he knew no one was there. Satisfied again with the room’s emptiness, he smiled, adjusting the wig again slightly to cover a final rogue brown hair, and turned to look at himself in multiple directions. He could barely feel the thin panties, so the rougher skirt rubbed against his ass, moving as he turned. He ran a hand against the shirt again, not even wanting to supress the urge to feel the soft fabric. Nothing else he owned felt so gentle under his fingers.

The young woman in the mirror smiled back at him, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly at first, then more as comfort set in.

She's me Seamus reminded himself. I'm her.

The blond girl eventually stepped out of view of the mirror, closing her eyes as she lay down on the bed and pulled the curtains of the canopy down to create a darkness as incomplete as her image. She ran her hands over the skirt and blouse, one hand rising to sense the roundness of her artificial breast. She imagined it was real, and ran a finger over the nipple that should have been there through that bra. The fantasy grew, and it was someone else's hands on her body, feeling her breasts and hips, not quite daring to slide up under the skirt. The imaginary hands grew arms and shoulders, a finely muscled chest, and she could nearly feel the weight of her boyfriend upon her hips.

Do you know what it feels like in this world
For a girl

"Do you love me?" The boyfriend would ask.

"Yes, of course," The girl replied, her voice small and nervous.

"Let me fuck you," The boyfriend would whisper, horsely in her ear. She moaned, hands finally putting pressure against her aching groin.

"God, yes, yes, fuck me... please," She moaned. The hands found their way up under her skirt, and onto the satin panties with a practiced ease. The hands, still firmly belonging to someone else in her mind, touched her body expertly. The boyfriend knew how to do this perfectly, and she tried to keep her eyes firmly closed, believing the only cock in the room was his. The pressure of hands on her groin became a gentle exploration of her body, a few fingers delving deeply inside her. She squirmed under him, gasping. The panties were wet, and through slitted eyelids she could see the curtains on the bed shaking slightly with their gasping breaths.

Dispite his urgency, the boyfriend was patient. He touched her thighs with a free hand, running it over her soft hairless skin, and feeling her hips under the skirt. The skirt dragged across her skin as it was hiked up out of the way, and he unbottoned the shirt half way to fondle her breasts. One hand stayed firmly against her groin, and she began to thrust against it.

“Your skin is so soft,” the boyfriend said, his breath hot against her neck.

“Oh, please, fuck me please,” she whispered impatiently back into the shadows.

Finally, the boyfriend relented, his hard cock thrusting firmly into her wet cunt, and her breath came in harsh moans and panting. His body rode against her, hips pounding against hers, and one hand groped her breast clumsily. The navy skirt bunched up around her waist, the underwear was shoved firmly to the side, and she bucked her hips upward against heat and flesh until her orgasm finally came.

Hair that twirls on finger tips so gently, baby
Hands that rest on jutting hips repenting
Hurt that's not supposed to show
And tears that fall when no one knows
When you're trying hard to be your best
Could you be a little less

Ten breaths after he came into the soft satin of the panties, guilt filled Seamus. He quickly shoved the wig and panties onto the floor, still breathing heavily, and turned to push his face into his pillow. Tears came as easily as lust had, and his pillowcase was soon soaked with them.

Every time, he swore he'd give it up. Nothing good could come of these clothes and his wretched fantasy. Nearly weekly for two years Seamus had quietly let his female self develop in his mind, but to what end? So that he could lay and weep desperately for the self he felt he could never be.

A/N - This story could possibly be continued, if anyone actually wants me to other than my beta and my wife. If you want more, review damnit! If you hated it, review too.

Wed, 18 Aug 2004 16:37:57 GMT

I cannot find this damned community belleweather was talking about last night with the tranny potter stuff.... AHHHH!

Help!

Finally

Mon, 09 Aug 2004 00:20:36 GMT

I finally have one user pic, but I wanted more pairing related one. Ah well, too bad I suck at graphic-y stuff.

Aluminum

Fri, 09 Jul 2004 01:02:32 GMT

These are the lyrics to my up-coming Song-fic. It's Aluminum by the Barenaked Ladies. It's from Everything to Everyone. The story will be Hermione/Draco, from Draco's point of view. I've never written anything with a slytherin before, it should be interesting.

Aluminum:

How, in every visible way, you shine
As if the stars in your wake align
Almost impossible to malign

But just below where you shine, you burn
Although I know it, I never learn
Just goes to show that I can't discern

[CHORUS:]
Aluminum to me
Aluminium to some
You can shine like silver all you want
But you're just Aluminum

Illuminating just what you want to show
You'd never rust, but I'd never know
You can't be trusted, I can't let go

[CHORUS]

Every time you're here, I forget
When you leave, you leave only regret
Every time you're here, I forget
Everything

You're so lightweight, how can you survive?
Recycling moments from others' lives
You're not as precious as you contrive

[CHORUS]
Yeah, you're just Aluminum

Closet

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:51:41 GMT

Title: Closet
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Ron Weasley
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, 3rd year.
Warnings: Chan (aka underage characters)

Closet

The curtains above Ron's bed fluttered slightly in a breeze from the open door and drafty windows of his dormatory room. He sighed heavily, trying to think of something to do with himself. As far as he was concerned, it was absolutely unfair that Harry was in the library with Hermione instead of finding an adventure with him. Ron wasn't about to go down there and forgive Hermione just so he'd have something to do though. To make matters worse, Fred and George were working on an experiment somewhere and wouldn't let Ron join them. Even Seamus and Dean were busy, doing detention for blowing up a statue in the hallway the previous week.

Ron had just pushed himself up off the bed to grudgingly pull out a book to study when Neville appeared in the doorway.

"Uh... Ron... have you seen Trevor?" he asked, coming into the room and peering under Seamus's bed.

"Not lately... but... I'll help you look. Let's just hope Crookshanks didn't eat him too." Ron grumbled. At least helping Neville look for his toad was a slightly more entertaining prospect than this Divination homework. "Where have you looked already?"

"Well... the toilets, and the first and second years' rooms. But I found him in the 5th years rooms once, so let's go there next," Neville suggested. They immediately headed off towards that dorm. Once they arrived, Ron started looking through Fred and George's things, which were strewn all over about half the room. Among the books, robes, and half-finished experiments there were no toads to be found. Ron began to close Fred's trunk, as Neville headed for the doorway, when a small potion bottle got in the way. It broke, splashing a translucent blue potion all over Ron's robes, face, and hands.

Luckiy, the potion didn't cause any boils or rashes to spread immediately, and Ron didn't even start to grow fur or horns. Considering himself fortunate, Ron ran off to the toilets, with Neville trailing behind him, to wash up, then back to their own dorm to change his robes.

"Luckily that wasn't the screwed up shrinking potion I made last week," Neville commented. "Did you see what happened to Seamus?"

Ron nodded, looking himself over. Seamus' ears had turned purple and leathery, and it had taken Madam Pomphrey two days to change them back. Ron looked himself over carefully in a long mirror near his bed. Luckily his ears, toes, and shoulders were still quite normal, so they left the dormatory again, this time to head into the common room, and out the portrait hole.

"I think he might have tried to go outside," Neville said. "He made it to the Great Hall last week... but I think that might have been Malfoy having a go at me. I can never tell."

No sooner did the two boys get half way down the first set of stairs before Ron felt he didn't want to look for Neville's toad anymore. The urge to be alone can set in at any time with boys of 13 years, and Ron found his mind racing off to subjects he usually only let it go when he was by himself. The breasts of the witch in the painting over the landing were rather alluring for example. She saw him noticing and winked at him just as Neville turned around.

"Do you think he may have gone that way?" Neville asked. It took Ron a long moment to remember that they were looking for Trevor. Neville was pointing down a darker side corridor, and Ron nodded stupidly.

"Yeah, maybe," he replied, blushing slightly. He glanced back once at the portrait as they turned the corner, and his mind stayed on the subject of breasts for at least a few more steps. He wondered to himself what they'd feel like in his hands.

"Maybe in here. Lumos." Neville muttered, raising his wand, and leading Ron into a small closet. The spell failed, and Neville tried again, flicking his wand above his head in the darkness of the large closet. "Lumos!"

The tip of his wand flared, yes, but the door behind Ron closed as well, knocking Ron's bottom in it's urgency to shut itself. In the moment of light Ron could see that the closet was used to store a variety of pillows, which made sense. The transfiguration room was nearby, and the second year classes were transfiguring pillows into picture frames this time of year.

"Lumos," Ron uttered, his own wand out by now. He turned to the door, and tried it, but it was securely locked. "Alohamora," he tried, but still it didn't budge.

"Let me try," Neville offered. Ron sat down on a large green velvet pillow, relaxing. If Neville was going to try, he could sit for a moment. Neville wasn't likely to get them out of there quickly. That was too bad, really, since Ron had hoped to return to the dormitory for a wank or two before Seamus and Dean came back. His body was still reacting strongly to the image of the woman over the landing.

Neville tried a few spells on the doorknob, with his back to Ron. They didn't unlock the door, but they did send off a few sparks. Ron watched as Neville began to get frustrated. From behind, Ron could see that Neville's hips moved a lot when he was frustrated. It was sort of nice to watch, really. Neville turned around a few moments later, but Ron's eyes seemed fixed to his hips.

"Hey Ron, any ideas? I don't think Trevor's in here. Should we blast the door off?" Neville asked. Ron forced his eyes upward to the other boy's face.

"Um... no. We'd get in trouble for sure. Why don't you relax for a few minutes? Someone will find Trevor I'm sure. They always do. The pillows are comfortable." Ron said. It was true, a closet full of pillows was an awfully nice place to get locked in, if it had to happen. Ron sure wished it could have happened when he was alone instead though.

Neville flopped down on a pile of smaller pillows next to Ron, so close that their shoulders touched. There really wasn't very much room in there, now that Ron looked around in the dim light of his wand. Strangely enough though, that didn't seem to bother him. Neville's body next to him wasn't uncomfortable, and he didn't feel cramped. His dick hardened further though, so much now that it was getting rather uncomfortable. Why wasn't it behaving?

"So..." Ron began, trying desperately to turn his mind back to something that didn't involve how close Neville was sitting to him... or the pictures in the hallway... or how Hermione had been so mean to him. Why did that suddenly feel like a good thing?

Hermione... she was starting to grow up a bit really. He'd noticed her hips were broadening out a little this year. He wondered if girls wank off too, in the dark quiet of their four poster beds in the next dormatory. Did they think about boys while they did it, and what it would be like to touch boys?

Then's Ron mind moved quickly from girls to boys. What did the dicks of the other boys in his dorm look like now? His had grown a bit this year, had Harry's?

Neville was still sitting closely next to Ron, waiting for him to continue talking, but nothing was coming from his friend's mouth.

"Ron, are you okay?" Neville asked. Ron looked at him then, as if noticing him for the first time.

"Oh? Oh... yeah... I'm okay... just... um... how're we gonna get out of here?"

"I'm sure someone will find us... You said just a moment ago that it was no big deal, and the pillows are comfortable. Are you sure you're okay? You're sort of... pale."

In fact, Ron was starting to sweat just a little.

"I'm... Neville... do you ever think about girls?" Ron asked bluntly. He'd intended to say something else, anything else, but the words seemed to tumble out by themselves. His mind began to clear some, now that he was talking about what he was thinking. Like suddenly understanding a charm, his mind began to focus.

Neville blushed. "Girls? Not so much. Not a lot I mean. Do you?"

"Yeah. I mean... Percy has a girlfriend now, you know? I wonder what he does with her."

"I... don't think about girls much Ron. I think I'm not... um... normal." Neville confessed. "I mean... I know I'm not normal. Of course. I've never really fit in around here, but... Well, you won't tell anyone right?"

"Sure... I won't tell anyone anything," Ron promised, suddenly feeling good that Neville trusted him. It felt... intimate to be trusted with Neville's feelings.

"Well... I think about boys usually," Neville confessed. He blushed deeper now, and turned to face Ron so that their knees were touching instead of their shoulders. Ron found himself missing the contact.

"Boys... that's not so bad. I... I mean, boys can be good too," Ron heard himself saying. Ron, stop! he tried to tell himself, but the words kept coming. "I mean, if girls like guys, then there must be something worth looking at about guys. I wonder too... I mean... what other boys look like under their robes. I bet Harry knows because of Quidditch..."

"Really? Wow... I thought I was crazy," Neville said, and a look of relief crossed his face. Ron smiled, moving closer to Neville. If Neville liked boys, then maybe he wouldn't mind too much if Ron kissed him. The impulse came before the thought, and it was already happening before Ron's brain caught up.

Then their lips were together, and Ron put his hands on Neville's shoulders so he wouldn't pull away. It felt so nice to kiss someone, anyone right then, and he explored Neville's lips with his tongue just like he had in his fantasies about the 7th year girls. Suprisingly enough, Neville kissed back, and his hands went to Ron's chest to unclasp his robes.

Together they rolled onto their sides on the pile of pillows, their lips still locked as tightly as the closet door. Neville's hands stayed on Ron's chest, but didn't move. Ron pulled his arms free, and used one to hold his friend close to him, so their whole bodies touched. Ron was suprised to notice that he wasn't the only one who's dick was hard.

Ron's wand fell onto a green cotton pillow, but stayed lit, sending the whole closet into a very dim light. Ron didn't care. There were lips against his, a body against his, and that body wasn't leaving.

But eventually the round boy pulled away.

"What... do boys do with each other?" Neville asked. Ron shrugged. Did it matter, as long as somehow they both got off in the end?

"Same thing as we do with ourselves I suppose," Ron suggested.

And the brown haired boy went back to kissing him, so Ron let his hands begin to wander. He pulled both of their robes out of the way, and let one hand rest against Neville's butt. It was firm and round, smaller than Ron had imagined butts to feel, but nice.

Ron's other hand found the hem of his friend's shirt, and he began to run his hand up Neville's chest. His round fat of childhood had just begun to give way to muscle, and the flesh under his shirt was smooth and soft, and Neville's chest moved as his arms ran gently over Ron's body. Ron felt himself push his hips forward, grinding his own hard-on against Neville's by instinct. It felt so good to have someone so close, and body heat against his groin.

As Neville pulled away from the kiss again, Ron moaned slightly. He didn't want to stop... it hurt to stop. He felt as if his body was going to explode with pressure and need as soon as they weren't close anymore.

"No... don't go..." he gasped.

"Ron, are you okay?" Neville asked. He looked genuinely concerned, but his hands crept slowly under Ron's shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his chest.

"I need to... finish... I need it now. I want it so bad it hurts!" Ron moaned. This wasn't so much fun anymore, now that Neville's body wasn't hard against his.

"Ron, do you think that potion did something to you? I would bet Fred and George have something like that, a potion that would make you all... um... horny."

That made sense, but it didn't make Ron's lust go away.

"Yeah... I bet... please Neville!" At Ron's begging, Neville's hands dutifully unbuttoned the fly on Ron's pants, and he pulled Ron's hard dick out of his pants. Ron reached for Neville's too... he wanted both of them out, and near each other. Soon they were both freed, and Ron realized that boys did not, in fact, all grow at the same pace. Neville's dick was easily twice as big as his own. Ron pushed back the foreskin, running his finger across the head of his friend's large dick, as Neville's hand began to run up and down the length of Ron's. It felt better than flying, and Ron barely heard himself crying out. His hand copied Neville's movements, pulling firmly on his friend's hard dick. Ron's hips jerked upward, pushing into the motions of Neville's hand, and his eyes shut tightly.

Eventually, Ron had to stop playing with Neville's dick, and he simply gripped two of the pillows to the sides of him, his fists white-knuckled. The light on his wand flared brightly, then went out entirely, and a few pillows spilled off the pile near them. He shouted as he came, spilling his orgasm onto a large black satin pillow.

It only took a few minutes for Ron to catch his breath, before turning his attention back to Neville's dick, which was still large and pointing towards him.

"Thank you..." Ron mumbled, his hands returning to his friend. "That felt... wonderful."

"And... so does that... oh... please don't stop," the brown haired boy gasped. Ron knew just how he felt, so he did not stop stroking until Neville's own come mixed with his on the black pillow between them, and Neville cried out Ron's name into the darkness.

Further Bound

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:40:48 GMT

Title: Further Bound
Author: Deviantboi
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan.
Point of view: Third person.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual contact between adults
Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowlings, I'm only playing with them.
Sequel to "Bound Longbottom"
Warnings: It's slash. If that squicks you, why are you reading my page? It's also heavy bondage, heavy dominance and submission, and mild pain play. If that squicks you, don't read it.

Futher Bound

The apartment was small, but filled with possibility as Seamus stepped through the doorway. It had once been a servants quarters in the household of a major wizarding family, but they had all died in the war, baring the two that were now in Azkaban. The house had been purchased by Ron and Hermione, and they had been kind enough to offer Seamus and Neville an excelent deal on rent for the two bedroom apartment in the attic.

"What do you think?" Seamus asked Neville, who stood behind him slightly.

"It's excelent, Sir."

Seamus turned to his slave, and cocked his head. "You will clean it up. It's dusty up here. I'll be back in three hours."

Without a response, Seamus left. Neville surveyed the apartment quickly, then pulled the bucket of cleaning supplies into the kitchen. He filled it with water and a soap cleanser, and began scrubbing. Cleaning was a meditation for Neville by now; a way to cleanse his thoughts and his mind as well as the floors and counters of their new home. He had the kitchen clean in less time than he'd expected, and thought carefully about what he hoped to do with the new apartment. He figured Seamus would most likely want him to do most of the decorating, since astetics were Neville's forte, and Seamus would do better with other things. At least, Neville hoped he would do the decorating, or else the kitchen would end up being painted lime green or something.

Moving on to the first bedroom, Neville discovered the floor had not been washed at any point in the last century. He frowned, pulled his pants and shirt off so as not to get that awful grime on them, and set them carefully on the very clean counter in the kitchen. He then set to scrubbing the hard wood floors of the bedroom. He had to empty the bucket six times before the room was clean, but by then even the tops of the window frames had no dust. He thought, while he scrubbed, about the things they would most likely do in this room over the next few years, and could not help but smile at the ideas he came up with.

The smaller bedroom, which would certainly be Neville's, matched the first for grime, but took less time because it was half the size of the first. The ideas he had for what could take place in this room were even better than the first - punnishments would certainly be administered in his own room, and the idea of spending time chained to these walls did much more than make Neville smile. If he wasn't worried he would not be done with the cleaning on time, he certainly would have stopped his cleaning long enough to deal with his swelling erection.

Instead he finished this room and moved on to the bathroom. This room had potential to be beautiful, and luckily had not built up as much grime as the bedrooms, and therefore was cleaned quickly. This allowed Neville to spend the whole final hour of his time cleaning the living room, including removing the dirt from the front closet.

Not a moment too soon, Seamus arrived, finding the cleaning supplies properly stashed under the kitchen sink, and Neville back in his clean clothing standing in the living room.

Seamus strolled around the apartment slowly, checking each nook and crevase for dirt, while Neville put the two bags of groceries in the kitchen cupboards and cooler. Seamus grudgingly admited that he was satisfied with the state of the new apartment, and told Neville to go fetch their trunks from the back stairs. As his slave did so, Seamus hung his jacket in the front closet, and wandered into the larger bedroom. He looked around, and thought for a moment about how to lay it out. Certainly he needed to get a nice big bed for this room, and a desk too.

Neville arrived with the first trunk, and Seamus saw he was already sweating. A work out regimine was definitely in store for this young man in the up coming few weeks. Perhaps a weight set, or a treadmill needed to go on the long list of things they needed to get. Too bad their budget was so limited. Well, a used bicycle would do, and if Seamus told his slave to bike two miles a day, he'd do it.

As Neville fetched the second trunk, Seamus began to unpack the first. It contained hangers, and the small amount of clothing each of them owned. He hung their robes, jeans, slacks, and shirts in the closet in Seamus' room, and set their sweaters in a short pile on the shelf in that same closet. The trunk also contained a set of bowls and plates Seamus had found at a second-hand muggle store the previous week, and a box of silverware he'd accumultaed over the course of a few years from Hogwarts and home. Few of the peices matched, but they would all work well. He put these things in the kitchen as Neville returned with the second trunk.

This contained sheets, two blankets, and their toiletries and underwear. When this was unpacked Seamus looked around.

"Well, we need a bed. Actually, we need two beds, but one will do for now. Depending on how much the bed costs, we could maybe get a table or couch too." Seamus said, fishing Neville's wand from his pocket, and handing it to him.

"Where should I meet you, Sir?"

"We'll take Ron and Hermione's fireplace to Diagon Alley and walk from there. Come on."

Once they'd returned to the apartment, Seamus went into the kitchen, while Neville set up the bed and put sheets on it. When he sat down for a moment, he realized they'd gotten a good one - this bed was very soft and comfortable. He stood up again right away though, so Seamus wouldn't catching him slacking.

With the bed fully made, Seamus returned to the bedroom, and looked the bed over, and looked over his slave standing beside it. Neville blushed under his gaze, and looked at the shinny clean floor. Seamus walked across the room, and stood very close to his slave.

"You must be hungry, boy. You've worked so hard today." Seamus said quietly, his mouth near Neville's ear. Neville nodded slightly, realizing his stomach was quite empty.

"Well, there's a sandwhich for you in the kitchen," Seamus pulled something out of his pocket as he spoke, and reached for Neville's left hand. Metal, warm from Seamus' body heat, wrapped around Neville's wrist, and then Seamus brought that wrist behind his back. Neville obediantly placed his right hand behind him as well, and felt the other half of the handcuffs curl around that wrist. "But using your hands would be too easy."

Neville waited until the handcuffs were firmly in place, and headed slowly into the kitchen. Seamus followed, and stood in the doorway to watch. Neville paused a moment to view his situation. There was a brand new blue dog bowl on the floor, one of the heavy ceramic ones that wouldn't tip over, which was good. Inside of it was a well stacked turkey sandwhich on wheat, with tomatos and lettuce. Neville could see the knife and plate Seamus used to make it still sitting out and knew he'd be doing dishes later.

Kneeling down in front of the bowl, Neville felt Seamus' eyes on his back. This would have been a wonderfully humiliating situation even if his master were NOT staring at him as he attempted to eat his lunch. With Seamus there he was even more determined not only to eat his sandwhich, but to do his best to not spill any of it either. He leaned over, and grabbed the top peice of bread between his teeth and pulled. It came off easily, and slowly Neville chewed and swollowed, dropping the rest of the peice of bread back into the bowl. It took a long time to eat the whole sandwhich, but Neville managed not to spill even a single crumb, and he got very little of it on his face too. It was frustrating though, and as he ate he felt Seamus' eyes on him the whole time. It was hard not to give up in frustration, or cry, or even look up at his Master pleadingly. When he was done Neville sat back on his heels, stared at the finally empty bowl, and heard Seamus' quiet footsteps coming up behind him.

"I hope you understand, that is the last time you're going to eat before I do. Now stand up."

Soon the handcuffs were gone, and their removal made Neville whimper. He never wanted them to leave. The whimper was mistake though, and he recieved a firm swat on the buttocks for it.

"Now, my sandwhich. No tomato, butter on one slice."

Neville made the sandwhich, ignoring the twitching in his pants for the second time that day. His buttock stung for only a moment, and then simply ached for more attention. When the sandwhich was done, he put it on a plate and poured a glass of milk. He carried these carefully into the living room, where Seamus was lounging on a large floor pillow he must have transfigured from something. Neville knelt down carefully in front of his master, and handed Seamus his lunch.

"Good. Now do the dishes."

The afternoon was filled with chores to do, including a number of which Neville could have accomplished in half the time with simple cleaning or cooking charms. Seamus would most likely let him use his wand eventually, but for now the hard labor of doing these things himself was an important part of Neville's service. By evening, after Seamus had eaten his supper, and Neville had finnished the leftover scraps from his dog bowl, he was exausted. This sort of service was tiring, but Neville was certain he'd done a good job that day, and he hoped that service would be rewarded once bedtime came.

Neville came into the larger bedroom, with his hands still firmly handcuffed from dinner. He shuffled his feet slightly in exaustion, and only looked up slightly as Seamus looked him over. Then Neville shuddered as he heard the sound of metal scissors slicing the air. Seamus set the large sheers on one pillow on the new bed, and patted the mattress with the other hand.

"Come on, boy. Over here."

Neville obeyed quickly, sitting on the bed right where Seamus' hand had been. Seamus reached under the pillow and pulled out a length of rope. He came slowly around the bed, and lifted Neville's feet slightly to pull off his shoes. Then, agonizingly slowly, Seamus wrapped the rope around his slave's ankles, and tied a firm knot. He set Neville's feet on the bed, then, and pushed him back so Neville was laying on his handcuff bound arms. This was not comfortable, but there was no way the slave could complain. The firm, but not tight, feeling around his ankles and wrists had a significant effect on the rest of Neville's body; his nerves were afire with anticipation, and his cock swelled against his jeans tightly. This effect was expected and easily observed by the young man's master, but Seamus did not feel the need to do anything about it right away. Instead, he reached for the scissors on the pillow beside his slave, and opened the blades.

"You did a wonderful job for me today, boy," Seamus began, bringing the scissors to the bottom hem of Neville's t-shirt. It had aquired some grime over the course of the day, but that was to be expected when someone spent their day cleaning, cooking, and running errands. The scissors closed on the edge of the shirt, and slowly ran upwards across Neville's belly botton, and up to his chest, and finally all of the way to the collar of his t-shirt.

"Th... thank you, Sir."

Seamus brought the scissors to the left arm of the t-shirt then, slicing across to the new cut up the front of the shirt. "I'm very impressed with your work. I hope you can keep up this sort of behavior." The scissors found their way to the other arm, and made an identical cut to the previous one.

"I will... I will do my best for you, Sir."

Neville's shirt fell back onto the bed, cut fully from his body, revealing two small erect nipples, and a slightly rounded quivering belly. Seamus' left hand, which was not holding the sheers, reached out and his index finger traced small circles around that belly botton. Neville inhaled slowly and deeply, preventing any squeeks from excaping his lips. One blade of the scissors slipped under the belt-line of his jeans, but did not press to cut just yet.

"You know it makes me very happy when you do these good things for me."

"Yes Sir."

Seamus squeezed the scissors, and the top of his slave's jeans began to part, cutting jaggedly apart from the sharp metal. The scissors made their way down the left pant leg, and the room was filled with the quiet sound of the metal against denim. Neville continued to take deep breaths, trying now desperately to keep calm. The decreased presure on his genitals was a good thing - he had begun to fear he would rip the jeans himself.

"It appears you enjoy doing nice things for me too. Is that so, boy?" Seamus asked, his voice still soft and low. Neville nodded slightly, now afraid his voice would betray him if he opened his mouth. Seamus stopped cutting just before reaching the bottom cuff of his slave's left leg.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" His voice raised slightly, a carefully calculated tint of annoyance present. He knew it would not be quite enough to send Neville into tears in his extremely vulnerable state (Seamus had made that mistake enough times earlier in their relationship. Submissive head space was touchy stuff), but this voice certainly made the young man lying down start a bit, and blurt out his response.

"I do, Sir!"

Neville felt his erection falter slightly. Humiliation was a surefire turn on for him, but the idea that he was not doing something well for his Master was just the opposite. This balance of humiliation and embarasment was a thin line, but Seamus had become unbearably good at walking it.

The scissors finally sliced through the hem on Neville's jeans, and the left pant leg fell against the bed. Carefully, the scissors ran up the inside of his leg, the cool metal bringing goosebumps to the surface of his skin. They lifted just before reaching his underwear, which held his fully returned hard-on. Seamus began to start cutting the right pant leg just at the crotch of the jeans, with the edge of the scissors only millimeters from the sensitive skin of Neville's scrotum, outside of his thin boxers. Seamus saw his slave's chest rise and fall with carefully calculated breaths, as the scissors began to slowly cut away from his groin, down towards his ankle again. He relaxed slightly as his genitals were no longer in danger of being damaged. Neville knew Seamus was being agonizingly careful, and he trusted his master with his life and his safety, but he couldn't help but be glad the sharp metal was further from such sensitive skin.

"When you do nice things for me, I believe you deserve a reward, my boy."

Neville did not answer, since this had not been a question. He simply continued his careful breathing, and focused on the sensation of cool metal against his skin, and the feel of his jeans falling fully away from his body as the blades severed the final hem of his pants. Now he lay in only his maroon boxers, a visible tent created in them behind their botton, with his hands and ankles still firmly bound.

Remembering his bonds, Neville also realized his hands were both entierly asleep. This was not a nice sensation, and without anything else going on for a moment, it became downright uncomfortable. A look of concern barely crossed his brow, when Seamus set his scissors on the floor and pulled his slave back into a seated position, relieving the preasure on his hands. Quickly, one hand was freed from the handcuffs, and the sliced t-shirt was pulled away and fluttered gently to the floor. Gently Seamus pushed Neville back down onto his back, and refastened the handcuffs over his head. The slave marveled for a moment at his master's ability to read and understand his needs, and this unspoken understanding turned him on further. Now that his hands were bound in a much more comfortable fashion, Neville was glad for the handcuffs, as they prevented him from reaching out and grasping his master, pouncing on top of him and taking all of him in at once.

Neville was brought suddenly back into awareness of the sensations of his body, as Seamus leaned over and set the tip of his warm tongue against Neville's throat. Slowly the tongue traced downward, and Seamus' hand carefully went to the waist of his own slacks. As his tongue reached his slave's right nipple, he unbottoned his pants, and as his tongue traced tight wet circles, the zipper was pulled downward. The tongue kept moving, keeping his slave's nipple hard and his belly quivering, as Seamus stepped out of his pants and boxers pooling around his ankles. Finally, pulling away, Seamus pulled himself fully up onto the bed, and brought one knee over his slave's body, so he was straddling his chest.

Neville's eyes fell upon his master's hard cock, which rested warm and heavy on his chest, as Seamus reached up and pulled his polo shirt over his head and sent that to the floor to settle on top of his slave's cut shirt. Neville licked his lips slightly, in anticipation of the pleasure he knew he'd be able to give his wonderful master. Seamus lifted his cock himself, and scooted his body forward, so he held his dick right over Neville's mouth.

"Now, are you ready to do me one more good chore before you get your reward, boy?"

"Yes, Sir!"

Neville's tongue flicked quickly out of his mouth, and he leaned his head upward to pull his master's cock deeply in. Seamus leaned over, putting one hand on either side of Neville's elbows, and carefully possitioned his hips to make this easy on the young man below him. His slave did his job well, sucking at exactly the right intensity, licking the head of his cock at just the right times, and working up to finally pulling his master deeply into his throat. Neville's cock-sucking abilities had matured phenominally over the past three years, and Seamus wondered slightly if these skills would transfer over to someone with a bigger cock. Seamus would readily admit he was not particularily well hung. Quickly the wondering was driven from his mind, however, as Neville pulled back and sucked in a deep breath before pulling Seamus' full shaft deeply into his throat again.

"Oh... Oh fuck yeah, boy... very good," Seamus gasped, his stomach and groin tightening in unison. He threw his head back and breathed deeply, thinking nothing and feeling nothing but the glory of his very own slave's mouth and throat around his cock.

Soon, though, Seamus forced himself to pull back, as much as he didn't want to. He'd promised Neville a reward, and he was going to make sure his boy got what had been promised to him. It would be no good for Seamus to come before he'd gotten a chance to fuck the slave the way he liked it.

Seamus swung his leg over his slave again, and wrapped one hand around his own cock to rub it slowly while he used the other to turn Neville onto his belly. Understanding what was expected of him, the slave tucked his bound arms and legs under him, and spred his knees as much as his tied ankles would allow. Seamus reached and pulled the boxers down around his slave's knees, and reached to the floor into the pocket of his slacks to find a small bottle of lubricant. He squirted some onto his hand, and brought that hand up to Neville's asshole. He quickly prepared Neville for fucking, while simulaniously pulling gently at his own genitals, keeping his cock rock hard.

It was not long before he had three fingers deeply inside his slave, and he pulled himself up on the bed and smeared lube thickly on his own cock.

"Are you ready for your reward, boy?"

"Oh... Oh yes Sir... oh please Sir, please fuck me..." Neville begged. Seamus could hear the young man had precious little control over his own voice at this point, and he pushed his cock up against his slave's wet tight asshole. Carefully, and much to slowly for his own comfort, he pushed until he was sliding deeply into the body of his lover.

"Oh... God yes..." Seamus grunted, feeling the tight warmth of his slave around his cock. He rocked back, begining his thrusting slowly. Neville whimpered, finally letting some sound of enjoyment from his mouth. Seamus knew he'd done his best to avoid making any noise, but Neville's willpower was not perfect, and he allowed this noise to pass with no consequences. In fact, Seamus liked knowing he could still make his determined slut whimper, even if he'd never admit it.

In a few moments, Seamus sped up, thrusting his hard cock deeply inside his slave, and savoring every second of it. He reached around his lover's body, seeking and finding Neville's cock with one hand. It twitched violently at this first touch, and a second small noise escaped Neville's mouth. Neville's dick was as thick as a tree limb, and Seamus loved feeling it's heft in his hand as he pumped his own dick in and out of Neville's warm body. He began to determinedly pump his hand around his slave's cock at the same pace he fucked, and lost his thoughts in the sheer physical pleasure.

Neville's mind and body reached the crest of orgasm first, spilling significant pool of semen onto the sliced up jeans laying on the bed below him. He gasped in pleasure as his body shook with pleasure, and he felt his ass tighten frimly around his master's cock. Even as the waves of orgasm melted away, he continued to focus on the sensation of tightening himself around Seamus' dick. Now that his own reward had come, he was determined for Seamus' to follow quickly.

It did, with a distinct feeling of further fullness inside Neville's body, and a series of jerking thrusts against his butt, before Seamus slowly pulled away, and stumbled towards the closet. It only took a minute to wipe both of them down with a towel, and to remove the soaked jeans, before both young men collapsed onto the soft bed, and snuggled against each other.

After a short time Seamus reached down to the foot of the bed, and pulled the blankets up over them, and cuddled back down next to his slave, lover, and friend.

"Neville?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Sleep well."

Bill's Earing

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:38:10 GMT

The very first fanfiction I ever wrote - be nice! It's been a few years now.

Title: Bill's Earing
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Harry Potter/Bill Weasley
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content between a minor (14) and an adult (19??)
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.

This story is a cut scene from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It begins (in the American hardcover version anyway) on page 52 after the second full paragraph (if you really care), and runs through after the end of the chapter but before the next.

Bill's Earing

Harry looked over Bill at least three times without taking his eyes off him after shaking his hand. He felt his whole body react to the presence and touch of this very cool and handsome figure in the Weasley's kitchen, and he was completely shocked by violently strong reaction he was having. Harry felt himself blushing deeply, and he hoped strongly that no one could see the very significant hard-on in his jeans. Where had this reaction come from? Harry refused to recognise this as a crush, and convinced himself quickly that this was one of the many random reaction erections that guys his age got all of the time.

As soon as he could get out of the sight of the Weasley family and Hermione, though, Harry locked himself in the small bathroom and unzipped his pants.

It's nothing... it's not about Bill... I'm always horny. It's just hormones. Harry told himself, as his hand easily and skillfully stroked his own rock hard cock. Even as he was telling himself this, the image of Bill in his boots and long hair and that earing stayed in his mind, making him come much faster than usual.

Just hormones Harry reminded himself, breathing heavily, and zipping his pants up. He looked in the mirror as he washed his hands.

"Just hormones," He repeated out loud. He shut off the water and headed back out into the hall.

Even after relieving himself, dinner was difficult for Harry. Watching Bill and Charlie bang tables was particularily hard, as Bill looked even more stunning in the evening dusk. While Harry tried to participate in the conversation around him durring dinner itself, his attention kept wandering to Bill, and especially that earing. He found the image of him nibbling on that ear in his mind more than once.

It's just a cool earing he told himself, but Harry was getting less and less convinced of this as dinner went on and his cock stayed at least half hard the entire time. When Mrs. Weasley began complaining about Bill's earing and hair he got especially quiet. He was afraid if he opened his mouth all that would come out would be "Don't change anything, Bill, you're so hot!"

After dinner Mrs. Weasley sent them all out of the yard and kitchen, and Bill followed Harry and Ron towards Ron's room. Harry saw this with horror. How was he going to be able to hold a conversation with Bill around?

"Hey Harry?" Bill asked, coming up right behind the two boys. Harry nearly passed out.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a bit more loudly than normal. Ron gave him an odd look.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Ron and Harry both nodded, and turned to Bill. "Um... Ron... I..."

"Hey RON! Come here!" Ginny called from her room, beconing. Ron turned and headed to her.

"What?"

As Ron turned away Bill had a strong but gentle hand on Harry's shoulder, and he had Harry in his and Charlie's room before Ron even turned around again. Harry stood in the room with his mouth ajar as Bill closed the door firmly, and Harry's cock was so hard from just Bill's touch that he was sure he'd come in his pants if he even moved.

"Sorry, Harry, but I had to get you alone. I saw how you looked at me today you know."

"Huh?" Harry asked, mortified. There was no denying it now... he had a crush on Bill. Worse, Bill knew! Harry thought he would die on the spot.

"It's okay... I think you're kind of cute too. I thought we could get to know each other a bit tonight if you want." Bill offered. Harry needed to sit down, this was too much for him. Bill, the cool, attractive, older Bill Weasley, wanted to get to know Harry? What exactly did he mean by that anyway?

"Um... okay," Harry managed to reply.

"Gosh, Harry... relax. Have a seat. I'm not gonna hurt you." Bill said, motioning to one of the two beds in the small bedroom. Harry nodded a little, and sat. Bill sat beside him about a foot away, and leaned casually back against the headboard, as if he confronted boys with crushes on him all of the time.

"It's okay you know... I mean to like guys. I know it seems pretty scary and weird at first," Bill said. Harry blanched.

"But... it's... it's only you!" Harry protested. It wasn't like he got turned on at the sight of every guy he saw, and he didn't want Bill to think he was a horrible pervert.

"Hey, that's even okay too. I'm horribly flattered though, Harry. You got some girl you like somewhere to?" Harry blushed brightly, thinking of Cho Chang from school. He hadn't seen her since last spring of course, but he remembered her well. He nodded a little, and Bill grinned. "Alright. Well, anyway, I was just saying you shouldn't feel bad for liking a guy. And you shouldn't feel bad if you want to do something about that either."

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Want me to show you?" Bill asked, the silly grin on his face somewhat reminicent of the goofy smiles of his younger twin brothers. Harry's eyebrows raised, and he nodded. Of course he wanted that!

Bill leaned towards him, reaching to Harry's shoulder and running his hand through the hair on the back of Harry's head. Bill leaned forward and kissed Harry's neck gently. "Just relax," he mumbled, pushing Harry carefully onto his back on the bed.

Harry could hardly move as Bill's hands began to roam his body, running carefully over his stomach, but eventually Harry managed to relax some. Bill had pushed Harry's shirt up and started licking and nibbling his stomach, and Harry reached down to touch Bill's cheek. The young man looked up at him with a grin.

"Yeah... like that..." Bill whispered, and Harry grinned back. He let himself get a little bolder, and ran his fingers around the ridge of Bill's ear, coming to the fang earing that had caught his attention before.

"I... I like this," Harry said. Bill chuckled, returning to Harry's stomach, and then running his tongue up further to flick it over one of Harry's small hard nipples. Harry gasped, throwing his head back, and Bill's chuckle turned into a vibrant laugh.

"Harry, you're so sensitive! I love it!" He commented, and went right back to what he was doing.

Harry stopped thinking about what he was doing entierly as Bill's mouth did amazing things to his body. Harry's hands were all over Bill's shoulders and back, urging him to keep doing everything he was doing.

It seemed a very long time to Harry before Bill stood at the edge of the bed and reached for the zipper on Harry's jeans.

"Is this okay with you?" He asked sincerely. Harry nodded eagerly; all of his worries and fears long gone, and he was sure his buttons would break soon if the pants didn't go anyway. He was suprised at this, since most of the time there was no way he would be hard again only two hours after getting off, but this was apparently very special circumstances. With the nod of approval Bill unzipped the boy's jeans, pulling them and his boxers right off and leaving them on the floor. Bill climed back up onto the bed, with Harry's cock in his hand, stroking it firmly.

"Oh God..." Harry mumbled, barely able to speak through his gasping breaths. Bill was still grining, and was using his other hand to unzip his own black pants and pull out his own very large cock. Harry's eyes went wide at the size of it, and his hands were on Bill immediately, stroking with the same rhythm Bill was. Bill moaned, pushing his hips forward, and the grin slowly fading from his face to a look of pure need.

"Harry... would you... please..."

Harry had a pretty good idea of what Bill might want, but he was sure there was no way he was going to get that much in his mouth. He swollowed hard, knowing he wanted to please Bill, and pulled away from him to scoot down on the bed. He placed one hand around the base of Bill's cock and took the head in his mouth, sucking the way he imagined he would want someone to do it. He was quite pleased with the vocal reaction he was rewarded with.

"Oh God Harry, yes, just... like... that... oooohhhh....."

It wasn't long at all before Harry had a rather significant mouthful of come, and he pulled away to swollow, barely making a face. He looked up at Bill as the young man panted heavily, and grinned. That was a real turn on. Harry decided right then that there was nothing better than knowing you could bring off such a very hot guy.

Bill's hands returned to Harry's own body for a moment, running over his chest and traceing his neck gently at first, and then one hand returning to his cock. As soon as Bill had finnished panting, he pulled away, stood up, and dropped his pants on the floor. He got back on the bed, laying on his back, and pulled Harry on top of him.

"You want to fuck me, Harry?" He asked, his tenor voice sounding so sweet to Harry. Harry would have blanched if he wasn't so aroused, but now, instead, he only thought about this for one moment before realizing exactly what Bill wanted him to do.

Two or three hours earlier Harry's only response to this thought would have been "Gross!" Now all he could think was Oh my, that would feel really good. So he nodded, and Bill pulled something from the table next to the bed. He handed Harry two things in fact. The first one Harry recognised as a condom, and luckily he knew how to use one from a demonstration Fred had given him and Ron a year ago. The second was a bottle of lubricant.

"Put on the condom, squirt on some lube - there is no such thing as too much - and go ahead Harry. Don't worry about me... there's nothing I like more than this."

Harry did so, fumbling only a little with the latex. Once he was protected and covered in slick clear liquid, Bill lifted his legs over Harry's shoulders, and Harry bit his lip in consentration, positioning himself outside Bill's asshole. He entered him very slowly, gasping in suprise and delight at the sensation of Bill's body closing around him.

This is better than butterbeer. This is better than flying. This is better than anything!

They both cried out in ecstacy as Harry came, and they collapsed in a wet exausted heap. They relaxed together for awhile, before Bill stirred.

"You okay, Harry?"

"Never been better," Harry replied, sounding a little sleepy. Bill gently pushed Harry off of him and onto his back on the bed, taking things off the bed to clean up a little, before laying back down beside the boy.

"Good. I know we don't have much time together... but whenever you visit..."

"I did okay?"

"Wonderful."

"Bill?" Harry asked, after another moment of quiet pause.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"I like that earing a lot. I'm glad you were wearing it, 'cause that's what really got me thinking about you."

"Do you want it?"

"I don't have my ear peirced! Anyway, it's yours!" Harry replied. That suggestion sounded silly to him.

"Well, I can get another one, and you should have it to remember me by." Bill took the earing off, and layed it in Harry's hands. "I'm serious. Now, I bet my brother and sister are looking for you by now."

"Yeah, I guess... Hey, thanks." Harry said, looking at the earing in his hand.

"You're welcome."

Bound Longbottom

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:25:42 GMT

Title: Bound Longbottom
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Seamus Finnigan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content and BDSM
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, Seamus and Neville's 6th year, Gryffindor 6th year boy's dorm.

Bound Longbottom

"Why handcuffs?" Seamus asked, motioning to the shiny new pair on his friend's bed. He hadn't started calling Neville his lover in his mind, just his friend. Just a friend he fucked sometimes, just a friend who's touch he couldn't live without.

"I need the help. I keep trying, Seamus... you know I do... I'm not good enough yet. I need the help." Neville was refering to his ability to keep his hands off Seamus. Neville's willpower was not very strong sometimes.

"You're getting better." Seamus said. Handcuffs. Handcuffs admited what they were doing. Just holding Neville down, just using his voice, his own body... that wasn't perverted. Handcuffs?

"We're... really doing this, aren't we." Seamus stated, color draining from his face. Neville, standing at the foot of his bed, the cuffs behind him, nodded.

"Yeah. We are."

"We're sick."

"Yeah. So?" Neville asked. "We're sick. You like to hurt me. I need to be hurt. You like to hold me down, and I need to feel safe. So what, Seamus? It feels good, right? We're being safe, we're... I'm happier than I have ever been. I am, and I can see you are too. So what's the problem?"

"I guess I... wanted to be normal." Seamus replied, knowing full well it sounded stupid.

"Have you forgotten? We're gay Seamus. We're wizards, we're gay, and we're kinky. We'll never be normal. Why try to be normal and be miserable when you can give up and be happy?"

Neville, scatterbrained and all, often made more sense than anyone Seamus could think of. That was why he... loved him? No... Neville was a friend. A good friend. Only that.

Seamus sighed, holding out his hand.

"Give them to me." He used the voice that he knew Neville could not say no to. This was the voice that brought with it all of the power of Seamus' will. Neville inhaled sharply, his submissive side surfacing quickly, and handed the irish boy the handcuffs promptly, turning and placing his wrists together behind his back.

"Where did you get them?" Seamus demanded, his voice remaining firm. His accent was even thicker when he spoke like this, demanding obedience from Neville.

"Hogsmead, Sir," was the submissive's quiet response. Seamus kissed Neville's neck gently, snapping the handcuffs around his wrists. The metal ground against metal, and Neville quivered with it.

"That feel good?" Seamus asked, his voice turning sweet as syrup. The other boy nodded violently.

"So good... ohhhhh..." Seamus' tongue traced down the back of Neville's neck and he bit his shoulder too, not hard yet. Neville leaned back against him, his hands right at the exact level needed for him to fondle his friend's already firm cock. He didn't though, he wouldn't touch anything without permission. He waited, patiently, knowing that Seamus would make his needs clear.

Seamus circled his friend after a moment, and stood in front of him. He was somewhat at a loss, unsure of what to do next. He couldn't appear uncertain, as he should be confident to keep his lover intimidated.

"Look at me," Seamus insisted, stalling. As his lover looked up, Seamus nearly fell over from the intense look in Neville's eyes. There was fear, passion, need, love, and so many other mixed emotions in those eyes. Matching passion swelled in Seamus as well, and he found himself shoving Neville onto the bed and kissing him, hard, fondling his body so firmly it hurt his hands a bit, and certainly hurt his friend.

Neville struggled against the handcuffs under him, wanting to touch the young man on top of him, wanting to caress him back, wanting to run his hands over his hair, his shoulders, his cock; this was why he had gotten the handcuffs. He loved this feeling of wanting something and being forced to not have it.

Seamus wasn't going to wait for anything. He wanted to take that need out of his friend's eyes immediately. His heart felt it would break if he didn't. It was only a minute or two before his hands had freed Neville's cock from his pants, and it was quickly between his lips.

"Oh God!" Neville cried, gripping the edge of the bed with his knees, and moaning.

Sooner than Neville had ever expected, he was collapsed on the bed breathing heavily and covered in sweat, with his hands still tightly cuffed behind him. He smiled contently, as Seamus crawled up beside him and wrapped his arms around the cuffed boy.

"I like the cuffs," Seamus said softly. Neville smiled. He had known he would.

Firelight

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:23:50 GMT

Title: Firelight
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Hogwarts, Griffindor tower, 6th year

Firelight

The castle settled quietly, the sounds of students missing in the hallways and dorms, and even the small number of inhabitants the castle had this time of year were laying down to sleep in their beds. A house elf entered the Griffindor common room only momentarily, before she saw the student resting in the most comfortable chair right by the fireplace, and she turned and left without a sound. Four stockings hung from the mantle, one for each Griffindor student who had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. The fire crackled away, leaving a warm light dancing around the walls and furnature of the common room.

Neville heard a creak on the stairs behind him, but did not turn. There was no reason he should not be here, and certainly no reason someone else shouldn't. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will the tears away that threatened to fall. If he was alone perhaps he could cry freely, but someone was behind him now.

"Neville? That you?" The unmistakeable tenor voice of Harry Potter asked.

"Yeah. You can't sleep?"

"Actually, I was going to.... um... don't tell, okay?"

"Harry, I stopped telling on you years ago. What's up?" Now Neville turned and looked up to the nervous face of his friend.

"Well, I nicked this from the kitchen, and I can't think of a better time to try it... But I wanted to share it with someone. Would you like some?" Harry held bottle of amber liquid out and the firelight danced against it. The label was slightly worn, but Neville could make out the words "Spiced Rum" clearly enough.

"You don't want to drink that stuff straight," Neville said, with a laugh.

"I know. That's what the eggnog is for," Harry responded, holding out a pitcher with his other hand. It was a large silver one, filled with thick eggnog. Neville grinned.

"I'd love to share with you. How the heck did you get eggnog this time of night?"

"Dobby. You know, the house elf?" Harry explained, setting the bottle and pitcher on the floor by Neville's feet, and grabbing glasses from a cupboard. He returned, and sat beside the pitcher, pouring a partial glass of eggnog for each of them.

"How much rum, do you think?" Harry asked.

"No idea. Guess we'll find out," Neville responded, sliding off the chair and joining Harry on the floor. He looked up at Harry's face as rum was added to the glasses, and smiled. Harry was still speaking to him. At least someone was.

Part of Neville was glad he had been told he could not return home for the Christmas holidays. After all that had happened, it would have been terrible to see his grandmother and family so soon. Certainly someone would have hit him, and the harsh words would have been constant. Yes, it was quiet at Hogwarts, but no one here had his grandmother's bigotry, or her hot temper.

"So... your family didn't want you home this year, Neville?" Harry asked, handing him the full glass of eggnog. Neville sighed slightly, nodded, and looked at the glass. He stubbornly took a deep breath, and a large swollow of the eggnog.

He came up choaking. It was stronger than he'd expected. Luckily, Harry was choaking too, so he didn't feel quite so bad. Harry let out a puff of breath, and grinned.

"Well then... I have no way of knowing if that's good stuff or not. Perhaps some more eggnog though..." Harry added a little to each of their cups, and Neville quickly discovered that this helped a lot.

"Yeah well, my grandmother wouldn't put up with a... erm... faggot in her house I guess."

"Hm. I'm sure the Dursley wouldn't even notice. They're so freaked out by wizards, they wouldn't notice if I was snogging smurfs or fucking horses. I guess there are some advantages to being raised by particularily nasty muggles." Harry said, swollowing down his entier glass and pouring a second. Neville cleared his out too, not wanting to be shown up by the attractive young man in front of him.

"You're not..." Neville began.

"Gay?" Harry finished for him. "Well... not exactly. I don't know." Harry cringed now. He hadn't ment to say that, Neville could tell. He wasn't ready to come out.

"You like girls."

"Yes... and guys. I think. At least, I have had a pretty intense crush on Oliver Wood since... well forever. And... Lately other people too. But it's different than girls. I don't see myself marrying a guy, you know?" Harry babbled, then sighed, and turned back to his eggnog.

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the fire crackle, and drinking. It wasn't long before Neville discovered he needed to head to the bathroom, and excused himself for a moment. He stood, and the room around him turned in three directions at once for a moment, then settled back into place. He didn't fall, luckly, but he did laugh.

"Harry, the castle's... moving." He explained. Harry giggled slightly, in a very unmanly way, and Neville started towards the door.

"Lemme come wif you," Harry said, standing himself, and grabbing the chair next to him for support. "'Cause I think I should go too."

The headed towards the bathroom as smoothly as they could manage, and discovered walking wasn't so difficult once they were upright. They returned to the common room in no time, and Harry plopped himself in a chair. Neville grabbed the bottle and pitcher, set them on the table, and poured himself another glass, this one stronger than the previous ones had been.

"It's hot in here," Harry exclaimed, and in one long motion pulled his shirt off. Neville's breath caught in his throat, as Harry revealed his well muscled torso. Neville was feeling too hot as well, but he certainly couldn't remove his shirt... after all, puberty had treated Neville very differently than his friend - instead of muscles, Neville had gotten a round belly and a chest full of hair that looked like it belonged on a gorilla. Instead, Neville swollowed a large portion of his eggnog, and belched. Harry laughed, and copied, but his belch was not nearly as impressive. They laughed, and fell into a more uncomfortable silence. This drove Neville to try to distract himself from Harry's glistening chest with more eggnog and rum. It only worked so well.

"Neville... are... are they mean t'you 'bout it?" Harry finally asked.

"'Bout bein' gay?" Neville tried to focus his eyes on Harry, but his eyes weren't even working too well anymore. He set down his glass. "Yeah. Sometimes. But... well, when Goyle tried t'hex my dick to stop workin', McGonagal gave'im detention fer three weeks... every day. So I guess the teachers do help. They stopped tha' kinda shit."

"Should I... er... come out?"

"If you wan'to, yeah. It fel' good t'get it off my chest, y'know?" Neville frowned a little, trying ton concentrate on the conversation and not how attractive Harry looked with his muscles moving when he shifted.

"Neville... I want t'know for sure. 'Bout guys I mean. 'Could you... um. Show me what to do?"

Neville's heart skipped a beat, and he paused to take a few deep breaths. What a decision to make when his mind was working so slowly. But... Harry Potter was downright hot, and there was no one in their bedroom to wake up... so why not? Plus, Neville's dick was jumping around in his pants like one of Fred and George's "Leaping Lollypops." This is what really decided him.

"Harry... I don't know wha t'do either, but we could try."

With that, Neville staggered over to Harry's chair, and leaned over him to kiss him. Harry scooted over, and Neville sat partially beside him, and partially on Harry's lap, as they kissed some more.

Harry's lips were hesitant and dry at first, but he slowly warmed up, and allowed himself to be taken into the kiss. Within a few minutes, Harry had become, as far as Neville was conserned in his drunken haze, a wonderful kisser, and he hoped they would never stop. Luckily, they didn't need to any time soon.

Eventually there came a point when lust was taking over and kissing was no longer enough. Without any promting from his brain, Neville's hands began to roam Harry's chest a shoulders, and the skin below his fingers was smooth and hot to the touch. Harry's hands roamed too, and Neville felt one of them slide up from the hem of his shirt, to the soft hair that covered his own chest. Harry's fingers entwined in that fur for a few moments, before seeking out Neville's left nipple. A gasp escaped the space between his lips and Harry's. That felt so good.

Neville's shirt soon found it's place on the floor with Harry's, and he no longer cared that Harry could see his half-naked body. It certainly didn't seem to be turning him off. His hands stayed in the soft fur of Neville's chest, and Harry's kisses seemed more enthusiastic. Neville responded to that enthusiasm, pulling one hand from Harry's shoulder down to the front of his pants. Neville fondled Harry's groin through his cotton slacks, an Harry's back arched slightly in pleasure.

"This would be... so much more confortable... on my bed..." Neville mumbled through a kiss. Harry pulled away, and nodded. They stood, clinging to each other slightly for support. The room wavered some, and Neville's eyes took a long moment to focus on the door.

"I had too much, Harry," Neville informed his friend. Harry laughed a little.

"Really? I thin' thi'feels wonderful. Come on."

They unsteadily made their way up the stairs to their dorm, and tried not to trip over the blanket Ron had left on the floor, or the trunk at the foot on Neville's bed. Neville reached to pull back the curtains, and pulled the stuff he had on the bed off of it. An herbology book, a half eaten sticky candy cane, and his wand all clattered to the floor, and Neville crawled up onto the bed. Harry followed, crawling on top of his friend, and running his hand back into the hair on Neville's chest. Neville's hands went to Harry's back, feeling the softness of his skin, and the rippling of his muscles below it.

"You know, Neville... I think you're... um... really hot." Harry murmered through kissing Neville's neck.

"You're drunk, but thanks."

Neville's hands eventually returned to Harry's groin, and he felt Harry's dick grow firm in his hand. He rubbed it slowly, through Harry's pants, and felt the size and weight of it carefully. Harry was not as big as Neville, but Neville had begun to suspect some time ago that his own size was somewhat unusual anyway. His own dick swelled, and the feel of Harry's.

"Oh... don't stop that..." Harry murmered, and ran his tongue up and around Neville's ear. Neville obeyed, his hand running along Harry's clothing covered cock a bit more firmly. Harry moaned slightly, and he rolled to the side, laying beside Neville on the bed, and proped his head up with one hand, and let his other hand slide down over his friend's rounded belly down to copy those talented hand motions on his considerably larger dick.

Harry's eyes widened some as his hand ran firmly along Neville's rock hard cock. A flicker of fear and considerable wonderment crossed his expression, and Neville reached his free hand up to touch Harry's face.

"I'm not gonna hurt you..."

"What if I ask you to?" Harry asked. Neville considered this a moment, his mind turning slowly, while his hand still flirmly pleasured his friend.

"Not... tonight." Harry seemed able to take that as an answer easily, and he proceded to unzip Neville's pants. Neville pulled his own hand away to help pull his pants fully off, and leave them at the foot of the bed, among his blankets. His extremely firm cock left a large visible lump in his white briefs, and Harry wasted no time pulling these off too, freeing Neville from the constricting fabric. Now his dick stood up, and Harry's hand immediately enveloped it. Neville gasped with the sensation - this felt nothing like his own hand, and the alcohol in his veins made the feeling that much more surreal. He gasped and shivered, laying prone on the bed and naked for quite some time, just feeling the sensations, before his mind reminded him of Harry's needs.

"Wait... you're... you're still wearing... take them off Harry!" Neville managed to gasp out. He reached over to unzip Harry's pants, and they pulled them off together. Neville felt, as he pulled them away, a very heavy weight still in the pants, and he lifted them again to pull the weight out of the left back pocket. Into his hands fell a pair of metal handcuffs, and a small ornate key.

"Uh oh." Harry uttered. Neville looked up, his dick twitching with the ideas running through his mind. "You said... not tonight." Harry reminded him.

"Yeah... Yeah... but... Um..." He reached over and wrapped the metal around one of Harry's wrists. "I want to see what you look like with these on." He pulled Harry's hands together in front, so he could still reach Neville's cock if he wanted to, and put the handcuffs on all of the way. Neville sat back on his heels, looking at the young man on his bed in his briefs. Then he reached over, and pulled Harry's underwear off, and his socks with them. Harry shivered a bit in anticipation, as Neville's warm hand finally went to his dick.

As much as having another person jerk him off was a new kind of feeling, do the same to someone else was too. Neville enjoyed it almost as much, feeling the response to his touch in Harry's body next to him, and feeling the totally different textures and weight of this smaller and smoother cock. He sat and stroked for a long time, much longer than he ever spent on himself, and Harry simply moaned under him.

Neville's own dick softened completely without any direct contact, but he didn't mind. This felt extremely good anwyay. Eventually, his hands didn't seem to be enough, Harry seemed to be actually less turned on than he was a moment earlier, and Neville smiled at him a little, and scooted down the bed slightly, to wrap his mouth around Harry's dick. It was much too big to take into his mouth all at once, but he wraped on hand around the base, and sucked carefully but firmly around the head and the first few inches of the shaft. Carefully he pulled back, and sucked in again, tasting the slightly salty flavor of Harry's sweat, and the bit of pre-come on the head of his dick. The feeling of his mouth being full of another man's cock was wonderful, and Neville hoped he could do this many times in the future.

Harry moaned, pulling against his handcuffs, and soon he bucked his hips below Neville's mouth, as his body spasmed in orgam. Neville pulled away just in time, and jerked all of the come out of the cock, and onto Harry's belly.

Neville reached over, and slipped the key into the lock on the handcuffs, releasing Harry's left hand, and then his right. Harry relaxed back onto the bed, puting his freed hands above his head on the pillow, and smiled contently. Neville fidgeted slightly, not wanting to interupt his new lover's bliss, but stll feeling horny as hell.

Dissapointingly, Harry was snoring in seconds. Neville sighed to himself slightly, and fetched a towel from his trunk to gently mop up their mess, before putting his own pajamas on. He crept away as quietly as he could in his still somewhat drunken state, made his way down to the common room, and sat back in the chair by the fire. He poured the last of the rum into a glass, which was a rather sizable amount, covered it with eggnog, and swollowed it down while he watched the fire.

All in all, it hadn't really been the worst first sexual encounter ever, but Neville couldn't help but feel shortchanged. Perhaps if he'd been sober, Harry would have recognised his need, and Neville reconciled himself with the situation slowly as he sat by the fire sinking a bit further into a drunken haze. The alcohol calmed his frustrations, and soon Neville found himself fondling himself slowly, working his cock back up to a full hard-on. He thought about the feel of Harry's skin under his hands, and the sound of his restrained moans, and it didn't take long before his own tension was released and he fell soundly asleep in the overstuffed chair.

The house elf returned shortly, and removed the bottle, pitcher, and glasses from the common room, cleaned up around him, and crept out into the quiet Christmas morning.

Understanding

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:19:27 GMT

Title:Understanding
Author: Deviantfics
Matches: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Lee Jordan
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Disclaimer: All involved characters and settings are property of JK Rowling, the rest is mine.
Setting: Diagon Alley, Harry et. al. 6th year

Understanding
"Are you sure you want to go out in this weather?" Lee Jordan asked, pushing back the curtains on the back window of Weasleys' Wizarding Weezes. He looked miserably out into the rain beyond the glass, and then let the red velvet curtains fall back into place.

"Yes, we're sure," Fred replied, pulling a very tight pair of dark blue dragon hide pants on, and buckling the silvery belt just below his belly botton. He slid his wand into the pocket on the inside of his black leather vest, and followed it with a number of coins. There was no shirt under the vest, and it did not close, leaving his well muscled chest and arms completely exposed.

"After all, what other time will you get to go out with us, Lee? We have things to do for the rest of the month." George added. Lee sighed, and tugged slightly at the jeans George had given him. They were far too tight for his comfort.

"Okay... but are you sure I have to wear these?"

"Yes." Fred and George responded in unison. Lee sighed again, and watched as George wiggled into a tight black polo shirt made from some very shiny material that Lee could see his own face in. He reached over and touched it, wondering what it was made of. George turned to him and grinned.

"Vinyl. A muggle creation. Hot, isn't it?"

"Uh. Sure."

"Oh come on, admit it, it's hot." Fred prodded, reaching over and lightly touching his brother's shoulder. George preened a moment as Lee blushed. It had been so long since he'd been with the twins, he'd forgotten how blatant they were in private spaces about their relationship. Lee had tried for years to get used to it, but sometimes he couldn't help but shy away from their unashamed incest. The fact that seeing them together turned him on certainly made the situation all the more embarasing for him.

"Well then, if we're going, let's go," Lee said, starting off toward the door. He heard the brothers chuckle slightly behind him, in the knowing way that reminded him how easily they could see through him. They did, however, follow him from the living quarters of their store (one small all purpose room and a lavatory) into the front of the store, where shelves and counters were lined with jokes and pranks of all sorts. Lee passed the Extendable Ears near the front, and opened the store door.

Immediately the storm outside pulled Lee out into the wet gloom, with a windy gust. He was only five steps out the door before he was soaked to the skin. Fred caught up with him on his right side, and George on his left, and they stubbornly made it through the rain to The Violet Dragon at the corner where Diagon Alley became Knockturn Alley.

Once inside, Fred had his wand out in his hand, and cast a drying spell on all three of them. It didn't take long before Lee was no longer shivering, and he could take a look around the club he had entered.

Lee had never seen anything quite like this establishment before. Small bright lights flashed in the air to the deep beat of the bass heavy music around him, and the one of the four walls was a mural of swirling colors. The rest of the large room was mostly black, including much of the clothing on the small number of patrons. A 20 something witch with many peices of metal attached to her face greeted them at the door, with a smirk and a nod. Lee nodded back, and followed Fred towards the bar.

"What'll it be?" The bartender, a middle aged man with his head shaved and a full length leather robe on, asked them without looking up.

"Firewhiskey," Fred responded. "Three of 'em."

He sat down at a table, with Fred and George behind him, and swollowed his drink quietly, still looking around the place. The drinking was nothing new to him, but the space around him certainly was. The dance floor appeared to be made of glass, and shapes in red and blue swirled around in it, aparently dancing along with the six people moving about the floor. It was a kind of dancing Lee had seen before - some of the 6th and 7th year students had been doing that at the Yule ball a two years ago until Professor McGonnagal had told them it was "innapropriate." Lee could certainly see why - if those people had not been wearing clothing, they may as well be having sex on the dance floor.

They all ordered more drinks, and the three of them talked for awhile about the shop. Lee would be taking care of it for a few weeks while the twins did some work for the Order, and some details still needed to be worked out, like how he'd contact them if something went wrong or he had questions. They worked out some details, and enjoyed the music surounding them.

After quite a few drinks George didn't want to talk about buisness anymore, and with the tipsy feeling Lee had, he agreed easily to go dance with them. More people had come to the bar, and the dance floor was nearly full now, with bodies moving to the hard beat of the music. Even if Lee had not been drinking, this music would have made him want to move.

They danced separately at first, and for awhile Fred moved across the floor to grind against a witch in clothing that could not rightly be called an outfit. Was that a chainmail bra, Lee wondered? The thong was most likely vinyl, and the white of it contrasted sharply against her chocolate complexion. Fred's pale skin stood out starkly against her's as well, and Lee was mesmerised by their bodies against each other. He wondered if that's what one of the twins would look like with him, light on dark, with no questions about who's leg that was, who's hand...

"Lee... another drink?" George asked, breathing against his ear. Lee jumped, and his friend grinned. Blushing, Lee realised how obvious his erection was in these skin tight jeans, and he turned and headed off the dance floor to the bar, hoping taking his eyes off of these beautiful people would help. It didn't right away, and took four rounds and a raised eyebrow from the bartender before Lee felt it was safe to return to his friends. He made his way back toward where he's left his friends unsteadily, and had to grab a chair once for stability.

Fred had left the witch by then, and was sitting at the bar with a tall drink with a cherry on top in his hand. George was dancing with someone Lee could not quite see across the dance floor. As soon as Lee got onto the dance floor a slightly built witch with a stunning velvet robe with shapes cut out of it to reveal much of her body approached him, and pulled him over to dance with her. He smiled, felt her hips moving between his hands, and let his body be taken over by the music. It was nice to feel himself attracted to someone female. It felt normal, and he needed something normal right now. He wasn't even ashamed as his jeans began to feel to tight around his groin again, and he pushed his hips closer to the witch, who smiled, and turned to kiss him while they danced. He'd been fucking girls since 5th year at school, and he knew how this worked.

Perhaps Lee would have taken her home, or at least gotten her phone number that night, if a loud noise and shout across the bar had not distracted him. He looked up, waiting for his eyes to adjust to looking at something other than this woman's breasts, and eventually spotted Fred and George being nearly carried out the door by the bartender and another large well built guy.

"We won't have you fucking faggots in our bar!" The bartender shouted, pushing one of the redheads out into the pouring rain. The second twin followed soon after, and Lee could hear him shouting back, but could not make out the words. Lee left the woman quickly, making his way across the bar clumsily in his drunken state, and followed his friends out into the street.

In the rain it took a long moment for Lee to recognise Fred kneeling on the walk, and George standing over him, holding his brother's head while he vomited into the gutter. George looked up at Lee, consern in his eyes.

"He hit him pretty hard," he explained. Fred stopped gagging, and threw his head back.

"It doesn' help I dran' so much," Fred added, then doubled over again, but did not continue to vomit. He shuddered for a few minutes, as the last few drinks he'd had washed away toward the sewers.

"What happen'?" Lee asked, his own mouth slurring slightly against his wishes.

"I guess we... sort of forgot where we were," George said, with a guilty shrug. He helped Fred to his feet, and the three of them began slowly walking toward the shop. Lee's head swam with anger, fear for his friends, and the firewhiskey which did not seem to be wearing off at all yet. Fred stopped half way to the shop, and started to turn back.

"That son of a bitch... I'll kick his ass!" He shouted, his anger coming late but strong. Lee grabbed his arm tightly, and George grabbed the other.

"Leave it, he'd wipe the dance floor with you!" Lee objected. That bartender was not a small guy, and the bouncer had been bigger. Fred continued to fight, until George tackled him, and held him to the street in a puddle. Fred quit fighting soon, seeing serious concern in George's eyes. George stayed on top of him a moment, making sure his brother would not jump up and tear off down the street to his doom, then kissed his cheek lightly. Lee watched, and no longer felt the nervous jolt he usually felt when the twins touched each other that way. It dawned on him now, in the freezing rain, that what the twins had was not lust, or bordom, or perversion.

They had love.

The three walked home silently, with the twins hand in hand, and Lee taging after them. He was suddenly no longer ashamed of their love, or even their incest, and certainly not of his interest - how could any man with a heart not see someone else's love and want some of that? Now he was proud. His friends had let him be the only person who knew how they felt. They did not need to share that with him, but they did.

Not long later they were back in the bedroom at the shop, and they all quietly pulled their wet clubbing clothes off. George dried them with a swish and flick, and Fred fetched a potion from their medicine cabinet to deal with the bruise his stomach had become. Lee sat in an old overstuffed chair in his underwear, his drunken brain still calm with his new realization, and watched these beautiful men take care of each other. Eventually, when Fred's bruise was dealt with, George had started a fire going, and all three of them were dry and warm, they sat together near the fireplace.

"I wish... people would understan'." Lee began.

"We gave up on that a long time ago. We should be more careful." Fred replied, a glum look crossing his face. A dark expression crossed George's visage too, and Lee reached over to his friends, one hand for each.

"I think... I understand now. I guess... it seems obvious to me now, that you don't choose who you love, sometimes... it just happens, ya? So... if I can understand... maybe. Maybe someone else can too?"

"I think... Lee, I think you're just special." Fred said, with a smile, and his hand went to where Lee's was on his knee. He touched the dark hand there, and kissed Lee's full lips lightly.

I would have been fighting this, Lee thought slowly of his life before tonight, and he leaned in, and took Fred's kiss for what it was. There was a hand on his shoulder soon as well. George? Lips on his neck, a finger on his nipple moved in circles. His hands moved too, up Fred's leg from his knee, up George's body to his firm muscled belly, and they layed back on the floor together, Lee on top of George, and Fred beside them. George's red thong brushed against Lee's white briefs, and Lee's body remembered how his friend had looked with that witch at the club. Now his dark skin lay against his friends' bodies, and he moaned quietly in pleasure as a pale hand snaked into his briefs.

"So fast..." Lee nearly objected, but Fred pushed him onto the floor between them, and straddled Lee's leg.

"No such thing... maybe we'll be slow later, okay?"

It had to be okay, because now there was a twin on each of Lee's legs, and one had a mouth around his left nipple, and the other hand a long dark finger in his mouth. The hand sneaked back into his underwear, and pulled his extremely firm cock out above the elastic and began to stroke. Somehow his hands made their way to the twins' bodies too, roaming over their stomachs and up to the shoulder of the one who was doing that to his nipple. What was that? No witch had ever accomplished that before.

A groan escaped Fred's lips (that was Fred wearing the blue thong, right?) as Lee ran his hand over the thin fabric covering the somewhat hard cock between Fred's legs. He felt it jump slightly under his hand.

"Careful... he's loud," George warned, pulling away from from what he was doing. Lee grunted his disaproval, but soon George moved down and took Lee's throbbing cock into his mouth, and the dark skinned boy no longer hand a reason to object.

"Whatever. You're the loud one," Fred mumbled, and moved off of Lee's leg to make way for George to kneel between the dark shuddering thighs while he worked magic with his tongue. Fred stepped out of his thong, leaving it on the floor, and pulled George's thong off too. Lee opened his eyes, hardly realizing he'd closed them, and watched as Fred rubbed his brother's back and shoulders lightly while Lee received the best blow of his life.

Lee continued to watch, trying not to moan to loud, as Fred reached around his brother, and began to pull at his cock, working it up to a boner rivaling Lee's. Fred's hand was working for his own erection too, but it wasn't working, and he cursed slighly under his breath. George pulled away from Lee, sighing slightly, and peered back at his twin.

"Well if you can't get it up, don't drink so much next time. Come on, you do this. I did not drink so much my body doesn't function tonight."

"Bastard." Fred mumbled, but he smiled too, as George stood and crossed the room. Fred scooted himself up between Lee's legs, and began to pump Lee's dick with his hand, more firmly than George had, but it felt wonderful. Lee watched as this pale white hand moved along his cock, and the other stroking his body slowly. Eventually Fred lowered his lips to Lee's cock, and began to do exactly what his brother had been doing before.

Lee continued to watch and shiver in pleasure as George returned with a small white bottle, and one hand around his own dick, keeping it hard. He knelt behind Fred, and though Lee could not see what he was doing, he suspected that George had started to put his fingers into his twin's butt. Fred's activities got a bit clumsier, as he moaned in what must be pleasure. George grinned over his brother's arched back at Lee, who smiled back through his panting. Eventually, as George pulled Fred back slightly, and pushed his cock deep into his brother's body, Fred had to pull away from Lee to shout. Lee didn't mind, watching them fuck was definitely close to as hot as the blow job he had been getting, and he sat up, scooted slightly to the side, and watched as George fucked Fred in the light of the fireplace. Sweat glistened on their bodies, and Lee sat with his cock in his hand, slowly pulling on it, as George and Fred both moaned in ecstacy.

Lee had to admit, George was louder.

Hello!

Thu, 24 Jun 2004 00:13:51 GMT

This is my new spot to post fanfiction and stories. If you know who I really am, please don't say so on the livejournal. Please. I really want to keep this page anon.

Enjoy!