warning: rape! underage
Harry figured he probably had some daddy issues or something if he found old men so hot. Or what were daddy issues called if you never had a dad? Anyway, he had known it for awhile now. Experimenting with boys his age was fun, but he wanted the approval of older men as well. Anyway, he was figuring that alcohol wasn't the only thing good aged if his libido was anything to go by. Old men were just so… alluring. And no adult figure in his life had ever given him as much attention as Jack.
Speaking of which, Jack danced fantastically. He probably went to those muggle gyms, because he had a hot bod. And when he was dancing, and in those tight leather pants, it was impossible to ignore. Harry was practically drooling.
A few men had tried to come up and dance next to Jack to steal him away, but Jack had pushed them away and returned to Harry, choosing to dance very close on the crowded dance floor so that everyone knew he was taken.
Harry was self conscious when he danced, but seeing Jack smile encouraging down at him and the alcohol in his veins was making him courageous. He knew he was too small and skinny for his age, but Jack must be into that if he was showing him so much interest, right? And anyway, he was definitely interested. Jack had a hand on Harry's lower back, and he was dancing up against Harry in a grinding motion, their bodies touching, and Harry couldn't have been more aroused. He only hoped the man would take him home that night for some hot sex soon because he could hardly contain his own arousal, and that was with four drinks in his system.
Rotating between the bar and the dance floor, Harry was on his fifth drink, and he was pretty smashed. Okay, so at this point he was really drunk. Jack had had a couple drinks himself, but it didn't seem to affect him at all.
Harry was openly flirting and his speech was slurring pretty bad. He was practically in Jack's lap at the bar, wiggling and grinning up at him like a child. Adults, at this point, usually pushed you away, or send you to your room, or at least would snap "shut up!" at you, but Jack didn't seem annoyed at all. And anyway, he was still hard, Harry none-too discreetly found out, if that was anything to judge annoyance by.
He practically asked Jack how big he was, or maybe he did, and Jack hushed him like a child, but smiled while he was doing it, so Harry knew he wasn't offended.
Jack ordered him a fifth drink with two shots, and the bartender shook his head sadly. "I remember at that age, I hardly knew my own limits as well. Anyway, the poor kid, are you going to take care of him tonight, help him get home? He'll need it, that's for sure. I can't just kick him out like this at the end of the night."
"Of course!" Jack placed his hands on either of Harry's hips, if only to hold him back and steady him since Harry was drunkenly grinding against him, thinking he was discreet but being none too obvious. "Once he finishes his drink I'll help him home."
"Ehhh, but I want to go home with you!" Harry wailed in an annoyingly childish voice, batting his eyelashes up at Jack.
"Hush," Jack shushed him again in front of the bartender, but his hand had squeezed his ass as he did so under the counter, and Harry let out a plaintive giggle. He's so into me!
Harry's memory was as slurred as his speech. He had been sitting inside at the bar a second ago finishing his last drink, and now he was outside, and Jack was guiding him down the sidewalk with a hand around his waist!
"Where you takin' me? I don't want to go home! I won't," he pouted.
"You're so loud and demanding," Jack laughed, casting a glance around to see if anyone was nearby. He had stopped on the sidewalk, and suddenly Harry found his back pressed up against the wall of the building they had been walking by, each of his wrists secured above his head with Jack's large hands.
"Wow," Harry gasped, his world spinning. He would definitely be on the sidewalk if Jack wasn't holding him up against the wall. As it was, he could hardly focus his eyes on Jack's face. "I'm so… I hope I won't be sick, I want to have sex. How are you not even as drunk as me? I just-"
Jack silenced him by crushing his lips into his. Harry squirmed underneath Jack, his eyes opening in shock and then closing in satisfaction as Jack's tongue parted Harry's lips and began exploring the inside of his mouth. Harry still wouldn't shut up, even with a tongue down his throat, but Jack hardly minded. Harry's vocal cords only massaged his tongue, and Jack just wished it was his cock stuffed down Harry's warm mouth.
Jack pulled away suddenly, leaving Harry's mouth feeling cold and empty. "More!" Harry pleaded. "Please, sir. I want-"
"Not in public," Jack smiled. "Sir? My, you are quite the child, aren't you? I don't know how you have passed the night as eighteen."
Harry gasped. "How did you know?"
"You told me. Three times now."
"I don't even remember!" Harry laughed, thinking that was the funniest thing. He had never been this drunk before.
His memory glitched again. He was in a bed, face-down on top of white flower-smelling sheets. How had he even gotten there? Jack must have helped him, the romantic sap. The hotel room was nice and the bed was huge, and Harry expressed his enthusiasm.
"I've never slept in a bed this big! It's like swimming."
Jack flipped Harry onto his back with ease. He reached on either side of Harry's pants and yanked them down in a single motion.
Harry gasped as the cold room air met his cock. "Does this mean you are into me?" he giggled wildly.
"You really don't shut up, do you?" Jack sounded a bit more annoyed this time, a bit like an authority figure. Like an adult.
Harry pouted and was going to protest at the tone of voice Jack had used when something cold touched between Harry's legs, and Harry gasped out, his eyes opening extra wide in shock. This man must be desperate for him!
"Just lube on my fingers to stretch you," Jack offered as an explanation.
Harry must have been making too much noise because Jack flipped him onto his stomach again. This time he held Harry's head down in the sheets, and Harry, for a few startling moments, couldn't breath at all.
"You have to keep your voice in more," Jack scolded him, entering another finger. He twisted it around a bit before allowing Harry's head up.
"I-wow, that kind of hurts." tears sprung to Harry's eyes. "Too full already, I think I will be sick, I'm sorry, sir, I-"
"Just shut up already."
Jack pushed Harry's face into the sheets again, and Harry couldn't breath. Jack wasn't acting very nice, and he wasn't being very gentle either. All night he had treated Harry kindly, but now he was acting very cold. Harry didn't mind stuff rough, but now he was starting to feel genuinely afraid of the older man. His limbs felt like heavy weights, and he couldn't lift himself up off the bed or struggle even if he wanted to. Did Jack even know that he could hardly breath this way? He tried to tell Jack, but his words sounded jumbled even to his own ears, and it was hard to concentrate enough to make sentences with the man's fingers inside of him like that, moving around. The man was being so forceful, and it was really unromantic, if Harry was being honest.
What was happening again?
Oh right, he had wanted sex. With Jack. Too bad he was too drunk to stay awake for it.
Harry awoke in the morning to an empty bed and the bright light of the morning stinging his eyes. His head hurt like Voldemort was in there trying to get out, but that wasn't the only thing that hurt. It hurt everywhere. His body felt like it had been run over by a truck.
In shock, Harry pushed the white sheets to the side. His naked scrawny body was littered with blue finger-print marks and hickeys. I look like a bad painting, Harry thought. I look like trash.
Harry turned his head to the side and promptly vomited.
Jack stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He had a towel tied around his waist and one in his hands that he was using to dry his hair. He had beads of water dripping down his chiseled abs, and Harry knew he would normally be into stuff like that if he didn't feel so sick and disgusted.
"Goodmorning," Jack said, looking at his phone. "It's nearly 10 o'clock and I need to leave. Get yourself dressed and out of bed." The man hadn't even looked in his direction once!
Harry's pants and boxers were on the floor in a heap. He obediently jumped off the bed, ignoring the splitting pain between his legs, and began trying to slip into his skinny jeans. His hands were shaking and his limbs felt weak as if he was still a little drunk. He would have wanted a shower, but Jack hadn't offered, and he was too scared to ask. The man was getting dressed and seemed very much like a disapproving authority figure. He almost seemed disgusted, in fact.
Harry's mind was scrambling back to the night before and desperately trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Jack had been so kind and romantic, going so far as to buy him all those drinks and to a hotel to spend the night. Had Harry done something annoying during the night, said something stupid when he was too drunk to control himself? Maybe the sex was bad? Maybe the man didn't like his body? Why was there so many hickies then, like the man had really enjoyed himself? Harry wished he hadn't been so drunk. Maybe he could have participated in the sex then, maybe-
Harry vomited again, on the floor next to his shirt. His vision blurred dangerously, and Harry had to sit very still in order to not pass out.
"The house-keepers will take care of it, so gather your things and leave when you are ready."
Jack was already dressed and leaving him!
"W-wait!" Harry gasped out desperately.
Jack stiffened in the doorway, and turned. He had a frown on his face.
Harry forced what he hoped was a flirtatious smile on his lips, even though his mouth was filled with the taste of vomit. He felt desperate, like a kid lost in a grocery store, and he wasn't sure why. "D-do I get your number at least? Just in case, you know, if you want to again..." Harry wasn't sure he wanted sex again, but he couldn't just leave things this way!
Jack smiled. It was the same dashing smile he had used all the night before, but this morning it looked fake and forced, more like a grimace.
Harry thought he would say something, but Jack shut the door without saying anything.
Harry picked himself up off the floor, a sense of isolation and alarm flooding him. He wanted to cry, but his tears felt stuck in his throat. He felt like an abandoned kid or something, even if he was sixteen. He tried to tell himself that he was lucky that Jack had even been into him at all, but Jack had seemed very disappointed this morning. Harry told himself he would have been able to perform so much better if he wasn't too drunk to perform at all, and that Jack should give himself another chance to prove himself. But Jack was gone, and Harry was alone, and he needed to leave the hotel before they charged him for another night.