Chapter 2

That is why a suddenly very nervous Harry Potter found himself unable to move, staring at the door as though it would sprout teeth and bite him if he touched it. He wasn't sure why he was here…he certainly didn't need any more complications in his life. His life at the hospital combined with the ever-present pressures of being the savior of the bloody world didn't exactly make each day a cakewalk.

But…

Screw it. He needed to fuck someone so badly he almost didn't care if it was a woman. Almost. Mustering his courage, he grabbed the door handle and walked in before he could change his mind. He was immediately hit smack in the face by the wave of loud, raucous music and incredulity at the sheer numbers of gyrating muggle bodies he saw on the dance floor.

Wincing at the extreme volume, he covered his ear with one hand and, covertly holding his wand with the other, whispered a revealing charm in accordance to the directions in the now well thumbed pamphlet. The air above his head shimmered gently and bright red writing wavered into existence. The floating letters pointed "All witches and wizards" to a door tucked obscurely in a corner of the hazy club. Navigating through all the sweaty bodies intent on grinding themselves on every possible available surface proved a task all in itself as he attempted to cross the room. Harry stiffened as a woman wearing a sum total of about 5 inches of leather grabbed ahold of him, inserting herself directly into his personal bubble. She smiled predatorily at him, baring teeth as she shimmied athletically against him. Harry shuddered, tugged violently out of her grasping arms, and ran. Peering quickly through the door, he saw a glimpse of a softly lit corridor and darted in, pulling the door shut behind him. The pounding beat immediately disappeared, leaving him in blissful silence.

He heaved a great sigh of relief and sagged against the door. Feeling slightly more secure, he removed his glamour with a quick swipe of his wand. Examining the low lit hallway, more arrows caught his eye, pointing to what seemed to him to be a dead end. Puzzled, he walked closer, examining the wall. Faint movement caught his eye, and he watched as two words swirled hypnotically into existence on the cream colored wall. They read, Charm: Ensperatio. Hoping this was the correct action and that it wouldn't create a devastating monsoon of frogs or something equally horrifying, he pointed his wand at the wall, reciting the spell with a standard swish and flick. He watched with vague trepidation as a faint grinding sound emanated from the wall and a silver door knob emerged. Gingerly turning it, he pushed gently. It didn't budge. He stared at the knob and pushed harder, jiggling the knob a bit. Still not even a centimeter of give. Glaring at the knob, he shoved into the wall with his shoulder. The wall immediately ceased to exist and he stumbled, almost falling flat on his face. Recovering his balance, he found himself in an oddly round room, with three doors and a desk behind which sat a detached looking woman holding a clipboard, a quick-quotes quill floating about her head.

"Name?" she said, looking at him over half moon reading glasses. The quill jerked to attention over the clipboard.

He jumped and stared at her for a second until he comprehended the question. He wondered for a brief moment if it would be worth it to give her an alias, but released that notion on the grounds of his now lack of disguise and obvious scar and trademark round glasses.

"Harry Potter," he said, staring at her daringly as if to say Yeah, that Harry Potter. Care to do anything about it?

He was relieved when she gave no indication of recognition and the quill simply wrote down his name with an annoying eagerness that reminded Harry far too much of a certain beetle animagus.

"Stand against that wall please," she said, motioning to a wall next to the mahogany looking desk.

He did as she asked, wondering absently if her apparent lack of recognition was due to professionalism or perhaps maybe even that she was a muggle employed just to fill out paper work. After all, he had a feeling this wasn't the sort of place a muggle-hating pureblood would most likely be frequenting. When she pulled out a wand and began muttering incantations, he gave her silent kudos for either a spectacular poker face or her spectacular ignorance. The quick-quotes quill followed close behind, scratching down information that the, he guessed, diagnostic spells were giving the woman. He was suddenly struck with a horrifying image of the bespectacled woman in silk under things gasping and moaning as she read through all of his sexual information.

He shuddered and, in a desperate attempt to distract himself, Harry let his gaze wander through the room. It was a cozy room with mood lighting and gold wall papered walls that seemed to shimmer in the low light. The lack of windows gave it a cozy feel rather than a claustrophobic one and Harry wondered where exactly the building was located. Wizard space was wild and unpredictable, so really it was entirely possible that they were sitting in the bottom of the ocean. All available space on the wall was filled with couches, divans, and chairs resting on the deep red carpet, all adorned by various tasseled pillows. All the prints were varying patterns of red and gold, and he wondered wryly if this place had been designed by a Gryffindor. Turning his attention back to the clerk, he noticed that the quill had stopped writing, and she was reading the information it had written down. Despite his self assurances that she was incredibly professional and of course did this numerous times each day, his face burned at the thought of her reading such intimate information about his sexual appetites.

"We have here the results of your sexual aptitude test," the blond woman intoned in an uninterested voice.

Harry nodded stiffly. His heart was pounding and he was questioning his sanity; why had he ever agreed to come in here? He fingered a stray bit of hair unconsciously as she stared at him over her glasses.

"Based on your results we have found a perfect sexual partner for you," she said suddenly, moving her eyes back to the clipboard.

Harry flushed and nodded furiously. He wondered what his results were; after all, he didn't have much experimentation under his belt what with being closeted and all. As if reading his mind, the woman said "You may view your results in your room while you are waiting for you companion. Please follow him," she said motioning towards a tattooed man in ripped jeans and a sleeveless leather jacket, "to your room. Your partner will arrive shortly, soon after we cast the blindfold spell. You may speak, although it is recommended for your pleasure that you remain silent."

Harry nodded mutely and began following the man through one of the doors and down the hallway revealed. The man, whose nametag read Joe, seemed so out of place at such an elegant venue in his beat up bouncer attire that Harry almost laughed. Smirking to himself, he tried to see where they were headed. They were in a low lit corridor of silver walls and blue carpets, the walls punctuated only with the occasional door, through which to Harry's acute embarrassment, he could hear the obvious and recognizable sounds of shagging. The moaning and thumping brought blood to his face but also other places, and he felt his jeans become uncomfortably tight. Covertly adjusting himself, he followed the stoic man until they reached a door and Harry was motioned inside.

He heard the soft click of the door behind him and turned to investigate the room. It was a sexy feature with a low platform bed on which was a silver and black coverlet. An imposing looking desk stood beside it. The carpet was a soft red, and the accents were a bold combination of black and red. All in all, from the dark wood to the modern lighting it was very tasteful, although Harry wondered why they bothered considering their clients were going to be blinded most of the time.

Wandering about, he noticed a pile of papers on the desk, and giving them a cursory glance, he saw they were the results of his sexual aptitude test. Giving the first page a quick once over, he saw the usual things he already knew. Physical Description of Client: Average height, above average musculature, broad shoulders, square jaw, black hair, green eyes, scar on upper right forehead. Sexual Preference: Male. Preferred physical stature: Tall, thin, fit. Preferred Physical Description: Blonde, short to medium length hair, angular features. Harry looked up from the paper, his eyes resting on a pair of sliding doors in the wall.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he ambled over and peered inside. Blanching at its contents, he almost slammed the doors, but instead took a deep breath and forced himself to take inventory. From anal plugs and dildos to canes and whips, this closet had it all. Harry could have sworn he even saw a couple of muggle police uniforms and a set or two of fox ears. Role Play? Yikes. This closet had to be magicked, there was no way in hell all of that stuff would actually fit into the confines of a regular sized closet. Gently closing the doors, he sat down on the opposite side of the bed from The Closet of Scary Sex and kicked off his trainers to read the rest of his results. He had only gotten as far as "Sexual Role: submissive" (What the bloody fuck? Harry had always been the dominant) when he heard a knock on the door and the head of Joe, the bouncer-type from before, came into sight.

"I've come to put the blindfolding charm on," said Joe the Hallway Man (as Harry had already begun to think of him), his monotonously smooth voice at odds with his biker-like clothing. "Your partner has seen your results, though not your identity, and will arrive shortly, knowing best how to pleasure you."

Harry flushed and nodded at the leather clad man.

"I'm going to need for you to take your glasses off," he said in the same disconcerting monotone. Harry nodded, his stomach clenching, and slid his glasses from his face, the world instantly becoming fuzzy. What he was about to do was suddenly, terrifyingly real. He put them in the closet and, after a second's thought, haphazardly tossed in his socks and trainers. He supposed he wouldn't be needing them.

He sat back on the bed and Joe the Hallway Man pulled out something that, in his glasses-less state, Harry only assumed was a wand. Muttering something that sounded like "blue aardvarks", Joe the Hallway Man waved his wand and everything went dark. Well, mostly dark. To Harry's surprise he could still see the outlines of everything in the room, Joe the Hallway Man included. He had to admit, however, that if he hadn't seen the man before the spell, he would never have been able to recognize him.

No wonder they call this the blindfold spell, thought Harry, watching the silhouette of the bouncer-like man turn and leave, the door closing with a decisive click behind him. It truly looked as though someone had just placed an imperfect blindfold over his vision, and though he could still see outlines, there was no way he'd be able to even recognize Ron with this spell on.

Oh no. Thinking of Ron right before he was about to have, as Hermione would say, "promiscuous relations" was a terrible idea. He was completely and embarrassingly flaccid, and quickly he brought to mind the one memory always guaranteed to make him hard. The memory slipped easily through his mind, edges worn soft from repeated remembrance.

Dark corridors, fuzzy minds from too much Firewhiskey, mouth forced on mouth, a battle as they kissed, a frenzied height of passion, hips grinding, the delicious friction of robes against their straining cocks…Harry moaned softly at the memory, palming his growing erection.

"What a delicious sound," a voice, all velvet and sex, murmured above him.

Harry startled at the voice, freezing for a moment, before grinning wickedly. He palmed his erection through his jeans.

"My sounds aren't the only thing that's delicious," he murmured huskily, cocking his head cheekily.

The mystery man reached out a finger and ran it slowly down across Harry's lips. Harry's breath hitched and he let his tongue stroke the digit, pressing a little nip onto the pad of the finger.

Harry took this opportunity to gaze at the silhouette of the man above him, sucking gently on the lovely digit. The man looked tall and thin, fit without being overly muscled. His mouth appeared to be hanging slightly ajar as he felt Harry's tongue, his hair seeming to fall slightly into his face. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't make out any distinct facial features; he was sure this man would be mouth watering.

"I'll bet there are many parts of you that are delicious," the man said, voice seeping carnality. "And I plan to taste them all."

Harry could have sworn the man winked. He shivered and let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan as the words went straight to his groin. His hips involuntarily thrust the air. The man moved then, faster than seemed possible, and he pressed his knee onto the bed next to Harry's arm. His mouth was now mere centimeters from Harry's ear, and his fine hair was tickling the edge of his face.

"Hmm, I see someone's excited to see me," murmured the mystery man, sliding his hand under Harry's to stroke his covered cock.

Harry's mouth hung slack and he was mortified to hear himself making even more embarrassing mewling sounds as the heat of the man's breath on his (apparently sensitive) ear combined with the sensation of being stroked to create a very pleasurable feeling indeed. Suddenly the man placed a forceful nip to Harry's earlobe and Harry gasped at the unfamiliar pain and was shocked to find his cock pulsing even more than it had been before. He could feel the man's smile on his ear. He squeezed Harry's arse and Harry moaned. Jesus, Harry cursed at himself…Pull yourself together, you're a practically acting virginal!

And then suddenly he didn't care because, fuck, he hadn't felt this way since…since a long time ago.

"I'm going to fuck you seven ways to Sunday, and when I'm done with you, you won't even be able to sit on that fantastic arse of yours without feeling me in it," growled the man, and suddenly his mouth was on Harry's.

Harry returned the kiss with a passion that came from the spectacular chemistry sparking between them and an abandon that could only come from not having sex for the past two years. The man's tongue roughly invaded his mouth, stroking, tasting, and claiming in a way that he'd never felt before. In a flash, his hands were pinned behind his head and his legs were being pressed apart by the man's knee, although his mouth never left Harry's. Leaving Harry's panting lips behind, the man turned his attention to his neck and Harry's hazy lust-addled brain was sharpened momentarily by a sharp sucking on his neck.

He jumped along with his cock, the pain surprising him. Had the mystery man just left a hickey? A bloody love bite?! What the bloody hell! He was distracted from his silent disbelief by the man's lips on a particularly sensitive part of his neck, one of his hands fisting in Harry's already mussed hair and tugging roughly.

"Ah!" Harry gasped, the pain warring with the pleasure. He tried to reach for the man's hair to return the favor and see if it was as silky as he hoped it was, but found that his arms were still restrained above his head by one of the man's surprisingly strong, long fingered hands. He tried to move them down but gasped when the man gave a particularly vicious nip to his neck.

"Don't move. I'm in charge here," growled the man. He turned his attention back to licking and sucking on Harry's neck until Harry gasped out garbled pleas. Harry could feel the other man's smile on his neck until he reached his shirt.

"Why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?" murmured the man, almost to himself. Harry bared his teeth in a smile. He had been wondering the same thing. Wriggling from the man's grasp, he flipped the other man onto his back on the bed, taking advantage of his stronger frame as he straddled the man's hips. Ignoring the other man's indignant cry, he ground his erection into the other man's own sizeable bulge, smiling as the man's indignant cries turned into grunts of pleasure. Practically ripping off his shirt in his haste, he turned, now bare-chested, to the man and literally ripped off his shirt, sending buttons flying.

Maybe the charms had been wrong about the whole submissive thing, he thought as he pinned the man's hands above his head like he had done to Harry earlier.

The man growled dangerously, and Harry almost gasped as the vibrations traveled straight to his neglected erection.

"You'll pay for that," the man said in a soft voice that could only be described as predatory. "That shirt was expensive as hell, and now I'm on the bottom."

Harry could almost see the dangerous glitter in his eyes.

"I'm never on the bottom," the man growled. The tremor in his muscles betrayed his intention, but Harry was still too slow to avoid the lightning fast movement that had him once again pinned beneath the now shirtless man, unable to do anything but stare opened mouthed at the silhouette of the man now dominating him.

Hmm, maybe those tests weren't so wrong after all, he thought distractedly, thrusting his hips up to meet the other man's, squirming beneath his lithe frame.

"I think I'm gonna fuck you now," whispered the man sweetly into his ear. "And it's gonna be hard and fast and rough and you're going to beg me for more,"

Oh fuck. Harry almost lost it at the dirty words, and his gasped out "Please!" made the man chuckle darkly.

"Yes darling," he drawled, his voice muffled by Harry's neck. "Beg for it."

Harry obliged him, babbling breathy pleas as the mystery man grabbed his wand, and literally charmed the pants off him. Now with Harry pants-less, he muttered a spell that covered his long fingered hand in something slick and his fingers were inside Harry before he could think about what he was doing.

"You're so tight," hissed the other man, breathing hard. Harry squirmed at the sensation, half burning and half pleasure, trying to impale himself even further onto those long fingers. The man added another finger, and another until Harry was seeing spots. He was ready. Harry reached out with a force that he was surprised his overwhelmed limbs could muster and grabbed the other man's neck, pulling him down to his face.

"Fuck me," he whispered savagely.

"Yes sir," the other man said, smirk evident, and Harry could feel the man's cock pressing against his entrance. With one deep thrust, he buried himself to the balls. Harry gasped and winced as he felt his erection deflate a bit. Fuck that hurt. It'd been a long time since anything but his own fingers had occupied that space. But then the man started to move, long, fast thrusts at a punishing pace that felt just, oh god, he couldn't think, could only gasp and moan and feel. It was hard and fast and just as deliciously rough as the man had promised. Harry matched the other man's thrusts with his own as the sensation reached higher and higher until it peaked. Harry shattered, biting his own hand savagely, just as he heard the cry of the other man accompanied by a wet heat that could only mean that he, too, was finished. Harry could only stare unseeingly at the ceiling and let his eyelids succumb to the exhaustion that consumed him. He realized his arms were no longer pinned, and the last thing he did was to place his arms gently across the other man's warm weight on his chest before he let soft darkness over take him.