"Harry, you have to stop this!"
Harry looked up from his Quidditch book, not surprised by the arrival of Hermione. He watched as she placed her mountain of library books on the table and huffed into the armchair across from him.
"Hermione, what are you on about?" He said dryly, returning to the images in the book.
"You know perfectly well what! You do realize that you're going to ruin your reputation with this type of behavior? Do you know what they say about you?" Hermione clung to the edge of the table, pleading with him to show an emotion other than indifference.
"Who, exactly, is 'they', Hermione?" He didn't even look at her.
"Megan, Laura, and Rose. I overheard them saying-"
"Who the fuck are they?" Harry interrupted.
"Girls from Hufflepuff, and they were saying-"
"Hufflepuff!" Harry interrupted again. "You're bitchin to me about some gossip form Hufflepuff?"
Hermione cast an icy glare, "You fucked their boyfriends, Harry. They were calling you a slut." Harry could tell that she wanted this news to hurt him.
Harry remained un-phased. He rolled his eyes and stood from the chair. "Well, maybe they shouldn't date fags. And their boyfriends were the ones behaving like sluts." He began walking to the boys' dormitory, but Hermione's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Are you fucking my boyfriend?"
Harry turned around and looked at her. "I would never fuck Ron."
"Well…good," she turned away from him, grabbed her books, and promptly marched up the stairs."
Harry continued on his way to the dorm. He truly didn't care what Hermione thought about his sex life. He didn't care what anyone in the whole of Hogwarts thought. Several were only too happy for a filling of the Chosen Dick. And didn't The Chosen One, The-boy-who-lived-to-kill-Tom-Riddle, get to enjoy a tight ass whenever he felt like it? He had spent his entire life, facing hell and catching shit every day. He killed Voldemort, and was now free to explore any parts of himself that had previously been undiscovered. So fuck what anyone else thought.
He opened the door to the room he shared with Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom. He hadn't even fucked any of his dorm-mates.
Not yet, he grinned mischievously. He saw Neville just disappearing through the door to the washroom. Harry quickly stripped down to nothing, grabbed his towel, and followed him in. Neville was under the spray of warm water. Harry turned his own nozzle on, just three down from him. Neville's eyes were closed, facing the water head on. Harry allowed himself to fully appreciate his friend's physique. He had bulked up during the war and added definition to his entire body. His hair was long, and he had scars from the war, Harry noticed. Still not as many as Harry, though. Harry thoroughly wet himself in the spray, cock hardening and lengthening. He squeezed it gently, eliciting a small, strategic moan. He quickly glanced at Neville, who had instantly stilled. Harry looked away, eyes sliding shut, and began stroking himself, long and slow. Short moments later, he felt finger tips on his arm. He smirked triumphantly before opening his eyes, never stopping the motion of his hand on his dick.
Neville stood there, dripping wet, cock hard, with an expression laced in lust.
"Neville…" Harry groaned, pumping his cock faster.
Neville dropped to his knees before Harry. He grabbed Harry's wrist to stop Harry's strokes. He replaced Harry's hand with his own, and looked up at Harry as if he needed approval to begin.
Harry answered with a hand on the back of Neville's head, pulling him toward his cock. Neville looked back down and filled his mouth with Harry. Harry watched his own dick breach past Neville's lips—he loved this part. He was very proud of his length and girth, both of which frightened and enthralled his partners. He liked watching each of them try so hard, like Neville was doing now, to take every inch of the impressive length into their throats. None had succeeded, but few had come close. He was pleased to see that Neville was in the category that came close. Harry groaned his approval. Neville seemed encouraged by the response and began sucking enthusiastically, pumping Harry's cock in and out of his mouth, licking everywhere along the way. Harry tossed his head back, overcome with pleasure. His breathing grew heavier, the rhythm disturbed by the small gasps he unknowingly released.
A very soft click entered his awareness, and he looked up. He smiled lazily as he spotted the source of the noise. Neville must have heard it, too, because he slowly came to a stop in his ministrations. Harry looked at him.
"Don't stop!" he exhaled. "Please don't stop, Nev."
Neville continued, and Harry looked back up. Ron was leaning against the wall, fully clothed, watching the scene with a small smile on his face. Harry smiled back. Slowly, Ron unbuttoned his slacks, pulled the zipper down excruciatingly slow, and released his massive manhood—even more impressive than Harry's. Harry moaned loudly at the sight, not caring that Neville thought the reaction was for him.
"More," Harry pleaded in a whispered groan. Neville and Ron both responded. Neville sucked harder, stroking the length he couldn't fit into his mouth; Ron stroked his dick to its full hardness.
Suddenly, "Aaaahhh!" Harry's orgasm caught him by surprise. He throbbed streams of cum down Neville's willing throat, eyes still fixed on Ron.
When Neville released him, Harry offered a hand to help him up. Neville took it.
"Thanks, Nev," Harry said.
"Anytime," Neville replied, smiling seductively to Harry. Behind him, Ron was moving silently into a stall so that Neville wouldn't see him when he left. Neville continued as he backed away, "Maybe next time you'll fuck more than my mouth…" he picked up his towel and wrapped it around his waist. "I just hope I can take it."
Harry laughed. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we? Bye, Neville," he said in a sing-song voice, waving all five digits as Neville left the bathroom.
As soon as the door was shut, Harry turned around, dropped to his knees, put his forehead on the wet tile, and placed one hand on each ass cheek, pulling them apart. He did all this in an instant, barely aware of the water spraying onto his bare back. Then he waited.
He heard footsteps coming towards him. They stopped right beside him; the water was turned off. The footsteps went behind him, then Harry heard the rustle of clothes and the faint thud as garments met the floor. He couldn't stifle the moan as Ron's large, strong hands caressed his spine; he whimpered when the touch disappeared, only to be relocated to his thighs, where Ron's nails grazed the sensitive flesh, lightly touching Harry's balls at the end of their journey.
"How was Neville's mouth?" Ron whispered.
"Pretty good," Harry whispered back. "He couldn't take all of me."
"I'm sure," Ron reached under Harry, between his legs, and gave that length a squeeze. Harry's cock was at attention again already. He didn't know if Ron was going to reward him or punish him. He was filled with fear, excitement, lust and anticipation. "Tell me what you're thinking," Ron said it quietly, but Harry knew it was a command. If he replied with anything short of complete honesty, (and Ron always knew when Harry was lying), he would be severely punished.
Suddenly Harry was being jerked up by his hair; he had taken too long to respond.
"Answer me, Harry," Ron's gentle tone, and his hand rubbing gently over Harry's chest and stomach, contradicted the tight grasp he held in Harry's dark mane.
"I'm wondering if you're angry with me about Neville." Harry responded without hesitation this time.
"Good boy," he loosened his grip on Harry's head. "Now why do you think I'd be angry?"
"Because…because we've never talked about me fucking our roommates before."
"That's right," Ron quipped, but then lowered his voice to that loving dominance that made Harry come undone completely. "But…I never restricted you from it, either." Ron was always fair when it came to Harry. He moved his hand to Harry's cock. "And you put on such a nice, unexpected little show for me…bend back over." Harry obeyed immediately. He pressed his cheek into the tile, pushing his ass higher, spreading his cheeks further. "Good boy. You're a very good slut, Harry."
"Mmm," Harry reacted appreciatively to the praise. "I want to be a good slut for you, sir." And he really, truly meant it. He knew everyone in Hogwarts, at least the ones he had been with, saw him as a big, bad, sometimes cruel, Top—which he definitely was; but this is what made Harry's heart burn with desire. It was Ron dominating him in every way that made him come alive with every particle of his being. He loved, needed, lived—to be Ron's dirty little slut, Ron's good boy, and Ron's adoring sub.
Harry's hips bucked backwards towards the slick, lubed finger that lightly stroked his puckering hole.
"Don't move, baby; be patient," Ron soothed. "You're going to take all of me, I promise."
"Mmhmm…" It took all of Harry's resistance to not move. His fingertips were digging into his cheeks, pulling them completely, almost painfully, apart. Finially! Ron's finger returned to his opening. Harry groaned, but stayed very still. He moaned and whimpered, everything short of bucking and begging, for Ron to give him more. Ron slid a second, well-coated finger into Harry. "Oh, thank you," Harry half spoke-half moaned.
"Such a sexy slut. The view back here is amazing." Ron pulled one of Harry's hands away from his ass, putting his own in its place. "I wanna see you beg now, with your body."
Harry dropped his other hand down. He tried to reach Ron's thighs behind him. His fingertips barely brushed the skin of Ron's thigh. He moaned loud, driving his hips in tight circles, trying desperately to make those two teasing digits sink further in.
"What is it you want, Harry?" Ron twisted his fingers, curling against that spot he knew so fucking well.
"Nnnn-oohhhh, fuck!" Harry moaned.
"This what you want?" Ron teased further.
"Nooo!" Harry moaned. "Your cock…please, sir, pleeeaase fuck me with it." He begged, openly and unabashedly. "please please please please…" the mantra started. Ron had, once again, gotten Harry more in need than he had ever been before. He made every time the best time. "please please please please…"
Ron finally had mercy on the whimpering, wanton mess that Harry had become. He removed his fingers, repeated the lubrication spell, and rubbed the tip of his wet dick against Harry's begging opening. He gave another mercy, "Go ahead, push yourself on it." Harry wasted no time. He pushed himself onto his hands. Ron held his erection firm as Harry moved back onto it. The head popped in and he guided Harry down further.
Harry's mouth sagged open in silent ecstasy as he pushed back, Ron's dick filling him exquisitely.
"Yeah, baby, that's good, that's-oohh-so fucking good. Goddamn you're beautiful." Ron ran his hands all over Harry: his back, ass, thighs, cock, nipples, anything he could reach.
Finally, Ron's dick was deep inside Harry. Harry breathed deep, Ron trailing kisses on his back. Harry loved that Ron's long body could cover his shorter one so easily. He felt safe under Ron.
The next thing Harry knew, Ron was sitting up on his knees and pulling Harry with him. Harry arched his back against Ron's body, opening his neck for Ron to lick, suck, bite—whatever Ron wanted to do.
"This is going to be very hard. It may hurt a bit," Ron paused, then laughed as Harry moved his bum, wanting exactly what Ron was offering. "Get your face back on the floor," he ordered in that loving, yet dominant tone. Harry put his face back on the ground. "You ready love?"
"Yes, yes, I'm ready!" Harry nearly yelled, desperate for Ron to finally give this to him. He didn't have to wait any longer. Ron grabbed Harry's ass cheeks in his hands, and thrust very long and very hard into Harry. Harry screamed; his toes literally curled. "Oh yes, yes—OH!" Ron thrust again, violently. His thrusts grew closer together, faster, yet no less hard. Harry moaned, gasped, and mewed. He registered some of the words that Ron was saying to him. Phrases like, "dirty beautiful slut," "fucking fuck sexy oh," and "such a good boy, such a good fucking boy" caught his attention. Ron's cock felt like a gift from Merlin, and Harry was doing all that he could not to reach for his own cock or come before he was allowed.
There was Harry 'The-Boy-Who-Lived,' 'Savior of the Wizarding World,' and 'The Chosen One' Potter, bent over with Ron's abnormally and wonderfully large cock pounding in and out of his ass. His knees were bruising at that very moment against the tile; his face was sliding, sometimes slightly banging, on the tile; all he could see was the dark, pristine tile. His pleasure was greater than it had ever been. Ron was thoroughly fucking him, body and mind, simultaneously. Out of nowhere, Ron's hand was grasping Harry's cock, fisting it so gently. Harry had his permission. He came and came and came. Ron continued pounding into him. Harry was only vaguely aware that he was screaming in unrestrained bliss. As Ron came into his ass, pulling Harry's body closer to him, Harry completely lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he was in Ron's arms, on the bathroom floor. Ron was stroking the wet strands from his face, and whispering the sweetest, most touching words to Harry: "You are such a good boy, Harry. I'm so very proud of you." Harry smiled up to his Master, then shut his eyes and fell quickly asleep.