WARNING: This fic is pure smut. If sexual situations make you uncomfortable don't read this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Harry laid in bed staring up at the ceiling. It was a warm enough night for the windows to be open and a gentle breeze drifted over him. "Looking a bit lonely aren't you?" The teen turned towards the portrait in surprise, seeing it easily due to the candle he had left burning. Phineas Nigellus Black sneered down at him. "Teenagers these days, all you do is sulk and act like your petty issues are the end of the world." Harry's green eyes narrowed at the portrait's tone. "Fuck you." Phineas stared for a moment, surprised, before smiling unpleasantly. "Unfortunately Mr. Potter, I am currently unavailable," he gestured to his frame. "You are more than welcome though to, as you phrased it "fuck" yourself." Harry was shocked at hearing the aristocrat use such a crude phrase and gaped a moment before pushing the covers off and standing.
"At least I'm capable of it." Harry was nearly nose to nose with the portrait. Phineas growled, angry with the insult. A small shiver ran down Harry's spine at the noise. Phineas noticed. His expression changed to a seductive smile. "Yes, you are aren't you," he murmured, keeping his voice low and silky. He'd decided. It'd been too long since he properly played with anyone. He wondered how long the Potter boy would last. "Tell me Harry," he purred, "don't you think it's a bit warm in here?" Harry shuddered as Phineas' voice went straight to his groin. Backing away from the picture, he shook his head. "I- I don't think it's hot in here," he found himself stuttering.
Phineas hid a grin. The boy was too easy. "Are you certain? Your face is a bit red." Harry automatically brought a hand up to his burning cheeks in response. He swallowed hard. "Maybe you should take some of those extra clothes off." Phineas watched as the boy struggled with himself, utterly amused. "Unless you have "something" you're ashamed of," the implied insult dissolved the last of Harry's embarrassment and made him angry. Stripping off his shirt and trousers, he looked defiantly at Phineas in just his boxers. "I don't have anything to be ashamed of! I don't know who you think…" He broke off as he noticed the look Phineas was giving him. It was hot and intense and made him harden further. "Beautiful," the portrait whispered.
Phineas stared at the slim teen, clad in just his boxers. The boy really was beautiful, but as a portrait he had absolutely no libido so it didn't truly affect him. Still, he had a game to play. "Lay down on the bed Harry," he used the boy's name purposely. Harry hesitated, but laid back down on the bed. He knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn't be obeying the beautiful, velvety voice. The tightness of his boxers combined with the heated stare of the portrait was too much to resist though. He ghosted one hand down his stomach. He didn't want to resist.
Phineas watched as Potter ran a hand down his stomach. Watched as the boy bit his lip. "That's it Harry, doesn't it feel good?" He heard Potter's breath catch. "Good boy. Why don't we take off those boxers now?" Harry obeyed, feeling the warm night air blow gently over his exposed skin. Goosebumps rose on the tanned skin and his erection throbbed. "Touch yourself Harry," Phineas ordered. With a groan, Harry reached down and wrapped a hand around himself. He began stroking his erection slowly, listening to Phineas' silky voice encourage him. Panting, he sped up, aware the entire time of the dark eyed gaze on him. "Use your other hand. I want you to finger yourself." With a whimper, Harry brought his free hand up and started sucking his fingers. "Beautiful," he heard the voice purr again. He stopped sucking his fingers and lowered the wet digits. Finding his entrance, he let out a shaky moan and slowly pushed one finger in. Oh Merlin it felt good.
Phineas watched the boy move the finger in and out, still pumping his erection. If he wasn't a portrait, he'd certainly be on that bed by now fucking Potter into the mattress. He watched fascinated as the boy's movements sped up, and then the seventeen year old was arching off the bed, cum squirting up over his stomach. Phineas smiled. It was more entertainment than he'd had in years. "Bravo."
A/N: My first ever piece of smut, written whilst I'm slightly drunk.