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firewhiskeyficTitle: Fanstasy or some poncey shit like that. I give pretentious titles to stuff and I knwo yit
Author:evandar
I am of legal drinking age in my region: YES
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Sirius/Harry, Sirius/Harry/Snape, Harry wanking. Harry Potter!
Challenge: Harry Potter, Mirror of Erised, Room of Requirement, Anniversary, "What do you mean, I'm not brave in bed?"
Summary: Harry goes to see if the Room of Rewirmant still worka and yeah. Parnetly is does. YEEs.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. Sirius has a monster cock and the RoR has a Lovehoney account and there’s sex toys and lube everywhere
Word count: 3154
Author's Notes (if any): This is longer atn most of the shit I wirte sobver what the fuck ieven and why is harry a fucking size queen???
On the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he finds himself standing outside the Room of Requirement. The door is small, plain, nowhere near as impressive as it had made itself when they’d first started using it for DA meetings; Harry’s been studying it for what feels like hours, but it hasn’t changed. Just wood. A little brass knob waiting to be turned.
There’s black soot around the edges of the door.
He hadn’t asked for a place to hide things in. Honestly, he’d just wanted to see if the Room still worked, but it’s taken him a year to make his way up here and he can’t take his eyes of the charred markings. He can’t not smell the smoke, either. Not that there is any; there’s a memory of it lingering in the air like some sort of ghost.
He stands. Stares. He stays standing until his feet begin to ache and the light from the windows shifts so that it’s glaring into his eyes instead of providing Barnabas the Barmy with a spotlight for his dancing trolls. He squints against the glare and sighs, soft and low, and for the first time in a year, he reaches out to curl his fingers around the doorknob.
It’s cool to the touch and very solid in his hand. He swallows. Gryffindor, he reminds himself, and he turns it – pushing the door open slowly. The hinges creak like they never did before, and he steps back instinctively, half-expecting a dragon made of fire to come lunging for him. It doesn’t. The Room is dark and small, with soot stains visible on the floor and the walls; a sad little place, barren of enchantment.
He swallows again – not from nerves this time, but an overwhelming sense of sadness. He finds himself battling against the burn of tears in his eyes and a tell-tale lump in his throat. The castle is, mostly, repaired of damage now – magic is quite incredible when it comes to patching up the cracks – but apparently no one has thought to renovate this place. No one, it seems, has remembered that they should try.
He’s about to turn away – to return himself to Gryffindor tower and the company of his friends – when something catches his eye. A faint glimmer of light where there shouldn’t be: a pale shaft of illumination twinkling in the Room’s darkness. He hesitates. He…doesn’t remember what he asked for when he was pacing in the corridor, except that he had wanted proof that the Room was still there. He has that proof – has had it for hours – but he doesn’t know what, if anything, the Room might have picked up on. His hesitation lasts only for a moment before he allows his curiosity to win, and he steps inside the Room of Requirement once more.
…
He follows the shaft of light to its source in an otherwise shadowy corner. Something tall is proper up against the wall, draped in dark fabric that has come loose at one of the bottom corners, revealing silvered glass that’s spotted with age.
A mirror, he realises, and wonders at the relative lack of damage. The fabric, by all rights, should have been burned to nothing by Fiendfyre and the mirror with it – and yet he can’t see any evidence of fire damage on either of them despite the way the Room looks.
He reaches out and, after a moment, pulls.
His reflection stares back at him, green eyes glazed with pleasure and mouth hanging ever so slightly open. His reflection is naked, his cock rising hard and red between his thighs. Hands are braced on either side of the mirror frame, and his reflection seems to be pushing back onto – onto –
Harry can’t see a face, but there’s a man behind his reflection, buggering it silly right up against the glass. Whoever it is has dark hair – Harry can see that much – and a cock that’s big enough to make his reflection’s lower belly bulge with every inward thrust. An involuntary whine slips past his lips as he tries to wrap his head around what he’s seeing. He glances behind him to see nothing but the Room’s burned walls. Studies the mirror for some kind of detail and finds a very familiar inscription wrought across the top – Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
The Mirror of Erised is showing him himself – showing him getting fucked silly by some mystery man who’s hung like a hippogriff. He revises his earlier thoughts about fire damage. Clearly the Fiendfyre hasn’t burned the mirror like it did everything else, but the enchantments on it are as buggered as his reflection is.
His reflection, which is practically sobbing from the fucking it’s getting.
Harry licks his lips. He glances back towards the still open door and makes his decision. He darts over to close it as quickly as he can before returning to the mirror where his reflection is quiet clearly having the time of its life. Its erection is bobbing and slapping against its belly with every thrust. A thin line of drool is slipping from between its lips to pool on the stone floor beneath its feet. Harry’s hard just from watching. He palms the front of his jeans before giving in and undoing the zip. The cool air of the Room feels like bliss as he guides his cock out. He looks around for somewhere to sit and, mercifully, the Room provides: a chair, upholstered in red, and surprisingly intact albeit smelling as strongly of smoke as the rest of the place. He shoves his jeans and his boxers down to his ankles and sits gratefully, spreading his legs wide as he returns his gaze to the mirror.
A table appears in his peripheral vision. There’s a box of tissues on it, along with a jar of lube and a fat silicone cock roughly the size of his own forearm.
He tears his eyes away from his reflection once more just to stare at it. Where on earth the Room got a Muggle dildo from, he has no idea, but the sight of it makes his mouth water and his cock twitch in his hand. He looks between it and the lube and the mirror, where his reflection looks like it’s about to lose its mind just from the sensation of having something that large inside of it.
It’s not a difficult decision.
He slouches in his seat, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go and angling his arse so that he can brush his fingers against his hole. If he wants to take a toy that big, he’s got a hell of a lot of work to do.
Not, he thinks, that it’s much of a hardship.
He ignores the insistent throbbing of his cock in favour of stretching himself open. He times the thrusts of his fingers with the thrusts of his reflection’s mystery man, adding more and more lube until he’s near dripping with it. He watches his reflection watching him and fucks himself on four of his own fingers. He’s ready. He wants to be ready. He glances towards the dildo and wishes that he had more fingers because fuck. He’s never wanted anything so much in his life, but the size of it is…intimidating to say the least.
His reflection is panting. Whining. Its breath is fogging on the other side of the glass and it looks so damn good that Harry wants. He wants to be in the same position – hell, he wants to be on the other side of the glass, taking whatever that man can give him. He doesn’t think that he’s ever wanted anything so much.
He pulls his fingers from his arse with a wet noise and reaches for the dildo.
The lube on his fingers slips and slides over its veined surface. It’s…heavy. Surprisingly so. And exquisitely formed: unnaturally long and thick and a rather bizarre shade of purple, but it’s been moldecd to replicate a real cock exactly. Curiousk, Harry raises it to his lips. He opens his mouth and tries – tries so hard - to fit it in, but can’t get it past his teeth. His jaw aches from even trying. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, reaching for the lube again. He’s generous: pouring it on until the dildo is practically drenchedin is and lube is drizzling from its tip onto his belly. He slowly guides it down between his legs and holds it against his hole, pressing gently.
The burn s incredible. He’s fucked himself open on his fingers until he’s a soft, slopping mess, but it’s still not wuite anough. He tries to keep breathing as he presses the toy in; tries to keep going even though now that he’s started to take it he knows that it’s at the very limits of what he can handle. Any bigger, any less preparartion, and he’s be splittling himself in half. As it is, it almost feels like that anyway. It’s too much. Too much. He meets his reflection’s gaze and keeps going. He keeps going until it’s fully seated inside of him and he can see the bulge of it uneer his skiln.
Perfect. Massive and perfect and just enough to make him feel satisfied. He whines with pleasure, shifting his body slightly so that the angle is easier. He pulls it out, almost relactand to do so, and then thrusts back n. His eyes water. He’s pretty sure that ifd anyone was stading uoutside the Room, they would have been able to hear the cry – almost a shriek – that falls from his lips as he thrusts the toy back in for the first time. Hell, he’s probably given tBarnabas the Barmy something to gossip with the Fat Lady about – fucking prtraits, always spying. Cunts.
He pulls out again, thrusts ack in harder. Harder the next time. Hard enough that his eyes are watering and he’s damn newar fucking sobbing with it. He looks back at the mirror, at his reflectioin – tries to time his trhusts to the ones on the mirror again and holy shit that’s why it looked so good. It was. He moans as hei reaches does with his other hand to grasp his cock. He doesn’t want to come yet – wants to watch. Wantsto see his reflection orgasm before he does, and wants to see the mystery man with eth giant cock. He holds himself tightly, diiging his fingers into the base of his erection until it hurst, still thrusting his toy deep inside.
Fuck, but he thinks it’s his favourite thing in the world, now. His Firebolt and his Cloak have been replaced – Harry loves his giant fucking dildo more. <3 Seriously, he’s thinking this is the best shit he’s ever had and I;m like WTF Harry whyyyyyyyyyyy are you into giant dicks all of a sudden you weren’t at the start and this is very much a surprise!size queen kinf of fic becaue I’m surprised and I’m the one wirting it and oh look that wine kicked in, loverly. Yay for wine.
QIth his arousal faded just enough, he return his attention to his tstating match with his reflection. He strokeds up the length of his cock and releases it, pressing his hand on his lower belly so that hie can feel the dildo moving inside fo his through his own skin. The extra pressure is incredible. He moans loaudly and prwsses down harder, shoving the dildo deeper and deeper inside until he can only rgip the base with his fingertips. His toes curl inside ofh is trainers and he strains to pull his legs further apart, to take more. He almost – against all reason – wiches the that Room uhhad provided him with a bigger toy. With a range of toys so that he could stretch himself wider and wider and wider until he burst.
Timing himself with his reflecting, he’s aware of just how brutal its mystery lover is beng. Hematches the pace, the speed and – he thinks – the depth. All he knows is that the bulging of his reflection’s belly mirror shis own spectacularly. He gasps and whines and struggles to stop himself from coming. In the mirror, his reflection’s cock is leaking a steady stream of precum onto the floor – thin trails of it are smearing its belly where its cock has slapped against distended skin. It’s beautiful, Harry thinks, and he grasps his cock again – just the head – so that he can smear his fingers through the fluids gathering at his cslit. He raises his hadn to his mouth and suckles his fingers inside, moaning at the salty taste of his own ejaculate. Immediaately, he wanst more. He wanst something in his mouth for him to suck on while he watches his reflection get fucked brainless on the other side of the glass.
Apparently, that ‘s enough o f a want for the mirror and the Room to react to. On eth table at his side, a gag appears. Black leather straps and more bright purple silicone. It’s a smaller cock than the one he’s still fucking into himself, but it’s just right – perfect for him to suck on while not choking. At the same time, his reflection is dragged away from the glass. His mystery man pulls out of him roughly and Harry, still moving in time, pulls his dildo out of his body. He rests it across his lap as he reached for the gag. Keeping an eye on his reflection as it’s pushed to the florr, he slips the silicone dick into his mouth and fastens the straps around the back of his head. His fingers, still wet, slip on the metal buckles and smear lube into his hair, but he doesn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to give the slightest bit of a shit, because he’s wacting the mirror where his reflection’s mystery lover is being reveale.d
Familiar tattoos cover a thin, pale body. Long black curls tangle around a familiar face, dimpled with affectionate laughter. He watches as Sirius runs his hands down his reflection’s back and slaps his arse – he hears uSiirus call him a “good boy” and “pet” and hears him ask if Harry’s ready. If he’s feeling brave enough to take what’s coming next. Harry moans aroundhis gag as his reflection asks “what do you mean, I'm not brave in bed?” like Sirius’ words were some sort of a fucking challenge – which, to be fair, they probably were.
He watches as his reflection is kissed thoroughly before anoyther figure enters the mirror. Snape, naked, his Dark Mark fully on show and his cock rising long and thin from a thatch of dark curls between his thighs. It’s not as monstrous as Sirius’, but that doesn’t stop Harry from moaning as he watches his former teacher feed it to his reflection. Long, potion-stained fingers tangle in his reflection’s hair, and Harry lifts a hand to his own so that he can pull and tug as he sucks.
With his other hand, he lifts the dildo and presses it back between he legs. He waits as Sirius rearrganes his refelctions ‘ hips os that his arse is raised and his back is bowed, and when Sirius thrusts in, Harry moves with him – ruthlessly hard and right to the hilt. He screams around his gag and yanks at his own hair as his body spasms with pleasure and pain in equal combination. Through watering eyes, he watches as his reflection is fucked from both ends. Sirius and Snape moving in tandem to use his body. Snape is ruthless with his mouth, fucking into him with almost wild abandon – Harry’s reflection is keeping his eyes open, keeping them fixed on Snape’s face as his former teacher chants “look at me” like it’s some sort of mantra. Behind him, Sirius is damn near brutalising his arse. Fucking him harder and faster and deeper until tehr’es no way he could possibly give any more. BECAUSE COCKS ARE FINITE AND THEY HADVE ENDS HARRY HE CAN@T PUT ANY MORE INSIDE OF YOU JESUS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT
He watches heis reflection as it bows and whimpers between the two men, and he arches his spine and whimpers in sympathy, dringing himself down ofnto his dildo again and again. When Sirius’ hand moves from his reflection’s arse to stroke his cock, Harry matches the movememt, releasing his ahir and fisting his erection. It onely takes a couple foe strokes beore he and his reflection are coming hard, screaming around the cocks in their mouths. Harry’s vison goes white as he clenches aorudn the toy ains ahs0 arse.
…
He wakes up sore. His dildo has slid feom his lax body and lies on the charred stone beeath him. His mouth is still stretched aournd his gag, and he suckle s at is evena s he lifts ahis hand st ountie itg. He runs his hand throughs his hair, crusted now from the lube, and he winces as he reaches down to pull his bozers and his jeans back up. Afetr a moment’s pause, he slips tehe gag into his jeans pockiet. He likes it, he’s decide.d Likes having a cock in his mouth to suck on because that’s what his character is now, okay. He debates trying to smuggle the dildo out as well, but gets stuck on how to hide it. He licks his lips, thinking deeply, and remembers that he’s a goddamn wizard. The dildo doesn’t look anywhere near as satisfying, shrunk to the length of jis pinky finger, but it slips neatly into his pocket.
He glances at the mirror. It’s blacnk now. Juts silvered glass that;s spotted with age; it’s gilt fram darkned with the same soot sthat covers the rest of the Room.
It shouldn’t be blank, he thinks. He still wanst what its showed hin, after all.
Unbidden, a voice srounds in his mind. “There is no magic that can bring back the dead, Harry.”
Harry frowns. “Fuck that,” he says out loudn. “I;m the Master of Death.”
The Dumbledore of his subconscious apparently can’t argue with that because Harry’s voice rings out in the silence of the room and receives no response. Harry nods to himself. Master of Death. Right. He casts a quick scourgifying charm at himself, ridding his body and his hair of all traces of his activities and steps out of the Room. He ignores the slightly duious look he receives from Barnabas the Barmy as he passes the tapestry – nosey twat has no place to judge; wanking is not morally inferior to putting tutus on trolls. Necromancy probably is, but Harry doesn’t much care about that.
The anniversary of Sirius’ death is coming up soob. He has time to work with – an time to prepare for maing his fanstasy a rea,isty.
Author:
evandarI am of legal drinking age in my region: YES
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Sirius/Harry, Sirius/Harry/Snape, Harry wanking. Harry Potter!
Challenge: Harry Potter, Mirror of Erised, Room of Requirement, Anniversary, "What do you mean, I'm not brave in bed?"
Summary: Harry goes to see if the Room of Rewirmant still worka and yeah. Parnetly is does. YEEs.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17. Sirius has a monster cock and the RoR has a Lovehoney account and there’s sex toys and lube everywhere
Word count: 3154
Author's Notes (if any): This is longer atn most of the shit I wirte sobver what the fuck ieven and why is harry a fucking size queen???
On the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, he finds himself standing outside the Room of Requirement. The door is small, plain, nowhere near as impressive as it had made itself when they’d first started using it for DA meetings; Harry’s been studying it for what feels like hours, but it hasn’t changed. Just wood. A little brass knob waiting to be turned.
There’s black soot around the edges of the door.
He hadn’t asked for a place to hide things in. Honestly, he’d just wanted to see if the Room still worked, but it’s taken him a year to make his way up here and he can’t take his eyes of the charred markings. He can’t not smell the smoke, either. Not that there is any; there’s a memory of it lingering in the air like some sort of ghost.
He stands. Stares. He stays standing until his feet begin to ache and the light from the windows shifts so that it’s glaring into his eyes instead of providing Barnabas the Barmy with a spotlight for his dancing trolls. He squints against the glare and sighs, soft and low, and for the first time in a year, he reaches out to curl his fingers around the doorknob.
It’s cool to the touch and very solid in his hand. He swallows. Gryffindor, he reminds himself, and he turns it – pushing the door open slowly. The hinges creak like they never did before, and he steps back instinctively, half-expecting a dragon made of fire to come lunging for him. It doesn’t. The Room is dark and small, with soot stains visible on the floor and the walls; a sad little place, barren of enchantment.
He swallows again – not from nerves this time, but an overwhelming sense of sadness. He finds himself battling against the burn of tears in his eyes and a tell-tale lump in his throat. The castle is, mostly, repaired of damage now – magic is quite incredible when it comes to patching up the cracks – but apparently no one has thought to renovate this place. No one, it seems, has remembered that they should try.
He’s about to turn away – to return himself to Gryffindor tower and the company of his friends – when something catches his eye. A faint glimmer of light where there shouldn’t be: a pale shaft of illumination twinkling in the Room’s darkness. He hesitates. He…doesn’t remember what he asked for when he was pacing in the corridor, except that he had wanted proof that the Room was still there. He has that proof – has had it for hours – but he doesn’t know what, if anything, the Room might have picked up on. His hesitation lasts only for a moment before he allows his curiosity to win, and he steps inside the Room of Requirement once more.
…
He follows the shaft of light to its source in an otherwise shadowy corner. Something tall is proper up against the wall, draped in dark fabric that has come loose at one of the bottom corners, revealing silvered glass that’s spotted with age.
A mirror, he realises, and wonders at the relative lack of damage. The fabric, by all rights, should have been burned to nothing by Fiendfyre and the mirror with it – and yet he can’t see any evidence of fire damage on either of them despite the way the Room looks.
He reaches out and, after a moment, pulls.
His reflection stares back at him, green eyes glazed with pleasure and mouth hanging ever so slightly open. His reflection is naked, his cock rising hard and red between his thighs. Hands are braced on either side of the mirror frame, and his reflection seems to be pushing back onto – onto –
Harry can’t see a face, but there’s a man behind his reflection, buggering it silly right up against the glass. Whoever it is has dark hair – Harry can see that much – and a cock that’s big enough to make his reflection’s lower belly bulge with every inward thrust. An involuntary whine slips past his lips as he tries to wrap his head around what he’s seeing. He glances behind him to see nothing but the Room’s burned walls. Studies the mirror for some kind of detail and finds a very familiar inscription wrought across the top – Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
The Mirror of Erised is showing him himself – showing him getting fucked silly by some mystery man who’s hung like a hippogriff. He revises his earlier thoughts about fire damage. Clearly the Fiendfyre hasn’t burned the mirror like it did everything else, but the enchantments on it are as buggered as his reflection is.
His reflection, which is practically sobbing from the fucking it’s getting.
Harry licks his lips. He glances back towards the still open door and makes his decision. He darts over to close it as quickly as he can before returning to the mirror where his reflection is quiet clearly having the time of its life. Its erection is bobbing and slapping against its belly with every thrust. A thin line of drool is slipping from between its lips to pool on the stone floor beneath its feet. Harry’s hard just from watching. He palms the front of his jeans before giving in and undoing the zip. The cool air of the Room feels like bliss as he guides his cock out. He looks around for somewhere to sit and, mercifully, the Room provides: a chair, upholstered in red, and surprisingly intact albeit smelling as strongly of smoke as the rest of the place. He shoves his jeans and his boxers down to his ankles and sits gratefully, spreading his legs wide as he returns his gaze to the mirror.
A table appears in his peripheral vision. There’s a box of tissues on it, along with a jar of lube and a fat silicone cock roughly the size of his own forearm.
He tears his eyes away from his reflection once more just to stare at it. Where on earth the Room got a Muggle dildo from, he has no idea, but the sight of it makes his mouth water and his cock twitch in his hand. He looks between it and the lube and the mirror, where his reflection looks like it’s about to lose its mind just from the sensation of having something that large inside of it.
It’s not a difficult decision.
He slouches in his seat, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go and angling his arse so that he can brush his fingers against his hole. If he wants to take a toy that big, he’s got a hell of a lot of work to do.
Not, he thinks, that it’s much of a hardship.
He ignores the insistent throbbing of his cock in favour of stretching himself open. He times the thrusts of his fingers with the thrusts of his reflection’s mystery man, adding more and more lube until he’s near dripping with it. He watches his reflection watching him and fucks himself on four of his own fingers. He’s ready. He wants to be ready. He glances towards the dildo and wishes that he had more fingers because fuck. He’s never wanted anything so much in his life, but the size of it is…intimidating to say the least.
His reflection is panting. Whining. Its breath is fogging on the other side of the glass and it looks so damn good that Harry wants. He wants to be in the same position – hell, he wants to be on the other side of the glass, taking whatever that man can give him. He doesn’t think that he’s ever wanted anything so much.
He pulls his fingers from his arse with a wet noise and reaches for the dildo.
The lube on his fingers slips and slides over its veined surface. It’s…heavy. Surprisingly so. And exquisitely formed: unnaturally long and thick and a rather bizarre shade of purple, but it’s been moldecd to replicate a real cock exactly. Curiousk, Harry raises it to his lips. He opens his mouth and tries – tries so hard - to fit it in, but can’t get it past his teeth. His jaw aches from even trying. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, reaching for the lube again. He’s generous: pouring it on until the dildo is practically drenchedin is and lube is drizzling from its tip onto his belly. He slowly guides it down between his legs and holds it against his hole, pressing gently.
The burn s incredible. He’s fucked himself open on his fingers until he’s a soft, slopping mess, but it’s still not wuite anough. He tries to keep breathing as he presses the toy in; tries to keep going even though now that he’s started to take it he knows that it’s at the very limits of what he can handle. Any bigger, any less preparartion, and he’s be splittling himself in half. As it is, it almost feels like that anyway. It’s too much. Too much. He meets his reflection’s gaze and keeps going. He keeps going until it’s fully seated inside of him and he can see the bulge of it uneer his skiln.
Perfect. Massive and perfect and just enough to make him feel satisfied. He whines with pleasure, shifting his body slightly so that the angle is easier. He pulls it out, almost relactand to do so, and then thrusts back n. His eyes water. He’s pretty sure that ifd anyone was stading uoutside the Room, they would have been able to hear the cry – almost a shriek – that falls from his lips as he thrusts the toy back in for the first time. Hell, he’s probably given tBarnabas the Barmy something to gossip with the Fat Lady about – fucking prtraits, always spying. Cunts.
He pulls out again, thrusts ack in harder. Harder the next time. Hard enough that his eyes are watering and he’s damn newar fucking sobbing with it. He looks back at the mirror, at his reflectioin – tries to time his trhusts to the ones on the mirror again and holy shit that’s why it looked so good. It was. He moans as hei reaches does with his other hand to grasp his cock. He doesn’t want to come yet – wants to watch. Wantsto see his reflection orgasm before he does, and wants to see the mystery man with eth giant cock. He holds himself tightly, diiging his fingers into the base of his erection until it hurst, still thrusting his toy deep inside.
Fuck, but he thinks it’s his favourite thing in the world, now. His Firebolt and his Cloak have been replaced – Harry loves his giant fucking dildo more. <3 Seriously, he’s thinking this is the best shit he’s ever had and I;m like WTF Harry whyyyyyyyyyyy are you into giant dicks all of a sudden you weren’t at the start and this is very much a surprise!size queen kinf of fic becaue I’m surprised and I’m the one wirting it and oh look that wine kicked in, loverly. Yay for wine.
QIth his arousal faded just enough, he return his attention to his tstating match with his reflection. He strokeds up the length of his cock and releases it, pressing his hand on his lower belly so that hie can feel the dildo moving inside fo his through his own skin. The extra pressure is incredible. He moans loaudly and prwsses down harder, shoving the dildo deeper and deeper inside until he can only rgip the base with his fingertips. His toes curl inside ofh is trainers and he strains to pull his legs further apart, to take more. He almost – against all reason – wiches the that Room uhhad provided him with a bigger toy. With a range of toys so that he could stretch himself wider and wider and wider until he burst.
Timing himself with his reflecting, he’s aware of just how brutal its mystery lover is beng. Hematches the pace, the speed and – he thinks – the depth. All he knows is that the bulging of his reflection’s belly mirror shis own spectacularly. He gasps and whines and struggles to stop himself from coming. In the mirror, his reflection’s cock is leaking a steady stream of precum onto the floor – thin trails of it are smearing its belly where its cock has slapped against distended skin. It’s beautiful, Harry thinks, and he grasps his cock again – just the head – so that he can smear his fingers through the fluids gathering at his cslit. He raises his hadn to his mouth and suckles his fingers inside, moaning at the salty taste of his own ejaculate. Immediaately, he wanst more. He wanst something in his mouth for him to suck on while he watches his reflection get fucked brainless on the other side of the glass.
Apparently, that ‘s enough o f a want for the mirror and the Room to react to. On eth table at his side, a gag appears. Black leather straps and more bright purple silicone. It’s a smaller cock than the one he’s still fucking into himself, but it’s just right – perfect for him to suck on while not choking. At the same time, his reflection is dragged away from the glass. His mystery man pulls out of him roughly and Harry, still moving in time, pulls his dildo out of his body. He rests it across his lap as he reached for the gag. Keeping an eye on his reflection as it’s pushed to the florr, he slips the silicone dick into his mouth and fastens the straps around the back of his head. His fingers, still wet, slip on the metal buckles and smear lube into his hair, but he doesn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to give the slightest bit of a shit, because he’s wacting the mirror where his reflection’s mystery lover is being reveale.d
Familiar tattoos cover a thin, pale body. Long black curls tangle around a familiar face, dimpled with affectionate laughter. He watches as Sirius runs his hands down his reflection’s back and slaps his arse – he hears uSiirus call him a “good boy” and “pet” and hears him ask if Harry’s ready. If he’s feeling brave enough to take what’s coming next. Harry moans aroundhis gag as his reflection asks “what do you mean, I'm not brave in bed?” like Sirius’ words were some sort of a fucking challenge – which, to be fair, they probably were.
He watches as his reflection is kissed thoroughly before anoyther figure enters the mirror. Snape, naked, his Dark Mark fully on show and his cock rising long and thin from a thatch of dark curls between his thighs. It’s not as monstrous as Sirius’, but that doesn’t stop Harry from moaning as he watches his former teacher feed it to his reflection. Long, potion-stained fingers tangle in his reflection’s hair, and Harry lifts a hand to his own so that he can pull and tug as he sucks.
With his other hand, he lifts the dildo and presses it back between he legs. He waits as Sirius rearrganes his refelctions ‘ hips os that his arse is raised and his back is bowed, and when Sirius thrusts in, Harry moves with him – ruthlessly hard and right to the hilt. He screams around his gag and yanks at his own hair as his body spasms with pleasure and pain in equal combination. Through watering eyes, he watches as his reflection is fucked from both ends. Sirius and Snape moving in tandem to use his body. Snape is ruthless with his mouth, fucking into him with almost wild abandon – Harry’s reflection is keeping his eyes open, keeping them fixed on Snape’s face as his former teacher chants “look at me” like it’s some sort of mantra. Behind him, Sirius is damn near brutalising his arse. Fucking him harder and faster and deeper until tehr’es no way he could possibly give any more. BECAUSE COCKS ARE FINITE AND THEY HADVE ENDS HARRY HE CAN@T PUT ANY MORE INSIDE OF YOU JESUS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT
He watches heis reflection as it bows and whimpers between the two men, and he arches his spine and whimpers in sympathy, dringing himself down ofnto his dildo again and again. When Sirius’ hand moves from his reflection’s arse to stroke his cock, Harry matches the movememt, releasing his ahir and fisting his erection. It onely takes a couple foe strokes beore he and his reflection are coming hard, screaming around the cocks in their mouths. Harry’s vison goes white as he clenches aorudn the toy ains ahs0 arse.
…
He wakes up sore. His dildo has slid feom his lax body and lies on the charred stone beeath him. His mouth is still stretched aournd his gag, and he suckle s at is evena s he lifts ahis hand st ountie itg. He runs his hand throughs his hair, crusted now from the lube, and he winces as he reaches down to pull his bozers and his jeans back up. Afetr a moment’s pause, he slips tehe gag into his jeans pockiet. He likes it, he’s decide.d Likes having a cock in his mouth to suck on because that’s what his character is now, okay. He debates trying to smuggle the dildo out as well, but gets stuck on how to hide it. He licks his lips, thinking deeply, and remembers that he’s a goddamn wizard. The dildo doesn’t look anywhere near as satisfying, shrunk to the length of jis pinky finger, but it slips neatly into his pocket.
He glances at the mirror. It’s blacnk now. Juts silvered glass that;s spotted with age; it’s gilt fram darkned with the same soot sthat covers the rest of the Room.
It shouldn’t be blank, he thinks. He still wanst what its showed hin, after all.
Unbidden, a voice srounds in his mind. “There is no magic that can bring back the dead, Harry.”
Harry frowns. “Fuck that,” he says out loudn. “I;m the Master of Death.”
The Dumbledore of his subconscious apparently can’t argue with that because Harry’s voice rings out in the silence of the room and receives no response. Harry nods to himself. Master of Death. Right. He casts a quick scourgifying charm at himself, ridding his body and his hair of all traces of his activities and steps out of the Room. He ignores the slightly duious look he receives from Barnabas the Barmy as he passes the tapestry – nosey twat has no place to judge; wanking is not morally inferior to putting tutus on trolls. Necromancy probably is, but Harry doesn’t much care about that.
The anniversary of Sirius’ death is coming up soob. He has time to work with – an time to prepare for maing his fanstasy a rea,isty.
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Date: 2017-07-24 11:54 pm (UTC)Harry the size queen is definitely a good thing. *g*
And him being spit roasted like that? UNF!
The room is clearly back and being very obliging. :)
I also love Harry's 'I give no fucks' attitude. Go get your men, Master of Death!
Nice one!
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Date: 2017-07-25 12:58 am (UTC)I love how this was really beautifully done, and the beginning had me clutching my heart. It was gorgeous. And then BAM! The wine hit! LOL! I love that it was this stark difference: not drunk and then 'Yes I am drunk, thank you, and I'm going to comment on this shit!' :D
It didn't detract from the haunting beauty, though, or the (hot damn!) serious rogering Harry gave himself! I mean, shit Harry! LOL!
Great job, MA! I enjoyed it immensely! (That's what he said! ;P)
OH! And also love Harry's dropping-the-mic moment!
"There is no magic that can bring back the dead, Harry."
"I'm the fucking MASTER of death, bitch!"
LOVE!!! LOLOL!
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Date: 2017-07-25 02:01 am (UTC)haha omg I lost it here because yes, Harry, WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT is the best. LOLOL
I love how you can totally tell when the alcohol kicked in and then the smut got out of control crazy hot. It's all haunting and beautiful and then fuck Harry, dang. I'm just impressed with him. Damn right he's the master of death. And of taking cock, clearly. :D
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Date: 2017-07-25 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-07-25 04:30 am (UTC)LOL! That was amazing! I am delighted and entertained by how alcohol affects your writing!
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Date: 2017-07-25 06:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-07-25 06:28 am (UTC)BECAUSE COCKS ARE FINITE AND THEY HADVE ENDS HARRY HE CAN@T PUT ANY MORE INSIDE OF YOU JESUS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT
Oh, yes, some of us know all too well just how sadly finite cocks can be!
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Date: 2017-07-25 09:07 am (UTC)That's one huge cock. o.o Harry seriously what the fuck. :D
Harry loves his giant fucking dildo more. <3 Seriously, he’s thinking this is the best shit he’s ever had and I;m like WTF Harry whyyyyyyyyyyy are you into giant dicks all of a sudden you weren’t at the start and this is very much a surprise!size queen kinf of fic becaue I’m surprised and I’m the one wirting it and oh look that wine kicked in, loverly.
The heart and all the meta are amazing, lol. <3 And my favorite had to be this:
BECAUSE COCKS ARE FINITE AND THEY HADVE ENDS HARRY HE CAN@T PUT ANY MORE INSIDE OF YOU JESUS WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT
That's a goddamn truth there.
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Date: 2017-07-28 02:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-07-28 07:49 pm (UTC)I sort of loved the random caps lock section in the middle of the prose.
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Date: 2017-07-29 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-07-30 04:07 am (UTC)And it was hot AND sweet AND sad, and then Harry said "fuck it, I'm the Master of Death" and I died.