Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Neighbourhood Whore	By : Sabb402 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 195019 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor its characters. Basically nothing you recognise is mine. I'm not making any money from this etc. Read the warnings!

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I only own what I write, the characters etc. are JKR&co.’s and I’m not making any money from this (or at all, in this moment of my life).
Warnings: Masturbation, slight rimming and the usual age difference and seriously underage you're here for.
I've been busy, but finally, the chapter's here, and I'm not abandoning this story!
Enjoy!

Of course, as all good things, it couldn’t last.
And, as was often the case, it was his own fault.
Letting himself get lost in the sound of Mr Holmes’ voice as the man read aloud was wonderful at first, but as time passed, the moment Harry most dreaded got closer and closer. If he raised his head, Harry could see the bundle of his cousin’s old clothes on the armchair and every time it served as a reminder that this wasn’t his home and he couldn’t stay forever. He never knew how much time passed, because Mr Holmes hated the constant sound of a clock’s hands ticking and the only way to tell the time in his house was the old watch he kept in a drawer of his bedside table. Harry had seen the man wearing it only twice, and it looked really different from Uncle Vernon’s shiny, metallic one. Anyway, the point was that Harry couldn’t tell the hour, and this stressed him more than if he knew exactly how much time he had left at Mr Holmes’ place. He knew that he was a little strange in this regard… his classmates never seemed to care that much about the time, but he’d had to be really conscious of it to complete all of Aunt Petunia’s chores before she screamed at him. Just thinking about it made him fidget, worse than he was before, and Mr Holmes hugged him tightly with one arm, sighed, and put down his book.
“What is it, Harry?”
“I’m, I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that… my Uncles…”
“Of course it’s got to do with those- Ah, well. What seems to be the problem now? I’m sure Mrs Dursley isn’t expecting you back yet.”
“N-no, it’s just that she es-espets me with my cousin’s clothes, and, I don’t want the new clothes to be ruined, because you were so nice, Mr Holmes!”
“Are they really so petty they wouldn’t accept you looking presentable even wearing someone else’s gift? No, no need to answer that, you’ll just have to change back into those rags before I take you back home then, we’ll keep your new clothes here, so that you may wear them the few times they’re needed.” One of Mr Holmes’ hands was caressing his cheek as he spoke, while the other sneaked between the soft fabric of his t-shirt and his skin, making him break in goosebumps all over. But Aunt Petunia would be expecting him back soon so he may help with dinner, and they didn’t have time to do the grown-up things they enjoyed so often.
Of course Mr Holmes knew this as well, but if Harry had to change back into those tattered clothes just to keep the peace, then he would at least enjoy the process – diverting his attention from the boy’s relatives’ demeanour was also a very real need if he hoped to behave pleasantly at their next meeting. And what better way than to concentrate on the lovely, eager boy in front of him instead? He knew Harry was feeling apprehensive right now, but he was sure they could remedy that in no time.
He circled the boy’s hips with an arm and hauled him closer, almost in his lap, so he could more comfortably remove the new t-shirt Harry was wearing. The moment it left the boy’s skin, Mr Holmes ceased to care about it; he proceeded to rub down the quivering muscles in his lapful’s back, nibbling on the soft skin of his neck just because he could.
“S-sir… Now?” The boy’s fingers dug in the folds of his shirt.
"No need to worry, Harry. I wouldn’t let you be late.” It wasn’t enough to relax the kid, but that’s why Mr Holmes kept caressing and massaging his body, kissing where he could reach, and soon the boy was just pliable enough. One of his hands reached around and took hold of the button on the boy’s trousers. It was the work of seconds to open it and lower the zip, then he heaved up the boy just enough to drag his trousers and pants down one-handed. It all took a fair amount of wiggling on Harry’s part, but neither minded. His Uncles’ likely poor reactions were a constant weight on the boy’s mind, but he knew he would have had to strip anyway, so…
Mr Holmes kissed him again while the man’s hands mapped his body like he didn’t already know it better than anyone. He was naked and squirming in his neighbour’s arms, unsure of how to settle, what to do to please the man, for the first time in days and days. Because they couldn’t start something he found himself not knowing where to put his hands, where to hold to not spur the man on. As he shifted once again, Mr Holmes let go of his lips, tightened his hold around his hips and went on to bite at his shoulder, not strong enough to even pretend to be a reprimand.
He nibbled on the skin but didn’t try to leave a mark, then he kissed the spot one last time and straightened, patting Harry’s side so the boy knew to scramble off his lap and the couch.
It was clearly a signal to get ready to leave and go back to his relatives’, so Harry didn’t waste time mourning what he’d miss, comforted by the knowledge that he would soon return, and started to get dressed in his old clothes, yanking on the threadbare fabric carelessly.
Mr Holmes helped him with his shoes even if he didn’t have to, kissed him one last time and took his hand to lead him outside. He tried very hard not to drag his feet because it wasn’t fair for Mr Holmes, but for some reason going back to the Dursleys that day felt even worse than the other days. Regardless, the man knocked and Aunt Petunia opened the door so he didn’t say anything. At least, seeing Aunt Petunia trying to hold in a scowl in front of a neighbour was moderately funny. She pasted on this stiff half-smile and dug her sharp nails in his shoulder when he crossed the door, then thanked Mr Holmes and that was it.
He was led to the kitchen without another word, where Aunt Petunia had already laid out the ingredients for that day’s dinner and started puttering around right away, having him wash his hands with the dish soap before ordering him around in sharp tones that broke her other ways mumbled complaints about him and... an important dinner? The following night? He tried to listen very closely because he was always the last one to know things in the house and he couldn’t be sure that his relatives would tell him anything about this.
So he helped prepare a large meal of which he ate a few leftovers after the Dursleys were done. Luckily he still felt full enough from everything Mr Holmes gave him. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time in his life during which he had been fuller or more satisfied. As he was locked up in the cupboard again, after Dudley pushed him around a bit, he couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s breakfast at n. 3.
Mr Holmes spoiled him and protected him in more ways than the man could know, but he had seen the difference in his Uncles’ behaviour since he started going over to his house. They couldn’t slap him around the face anymore, because it wasn’t like they could just hide him away now that another person expected to see him every day. And it seemed like ‘out of sight, out of mind’ had some truth to it, because not having him around all day seemed to make at least Aunt Petunia a little more relaxed.
So, the next day he washes up, helps prepare breakfast for his relatives, and goes to Mr Holmes’.

Now, regardless of what they said, there’s not much call for the new clothes, truly, because in the next few days Mr Holmes seems even more determined than usual to spend as much time as possible cuddling him, paying particular attention to his bottom for some reason. He licks him and ‘blows’ him, which Mr Holmes explained was the correct term for putting another man’s sex in your mouth which… Harry wouldn’t have guessed. He even put his fingers in his hole, fingers as in more than one! Sometimes it was a little uncomfortable but it never hurt and Mr Holmes was very nice and gentle. He soon became familiar with the feeling of the clear gel that the man used to slick the way.
The result was that they spent more time naked than dressed, sharing sandwiches on the couch if Mr Holmes didn’t feel like cooking. Which meant that he suddenly had more clothes than he knew what to do with and, other than modelling them for Mr Holmes, no need for them. Because the first outfit is nowhere close to the last, and now Harry has a choice of them and a bright yellow t-shirt that is probably his favourite.
That afternoon was only one of the instances where Harry put on clothes only to have them taken off him. Mr Holmes had settled between his legs and covered his hole with gel really quickly, and now Harry could only plant his feet on the mattress to help. It soon became clear than it wasn’t going to be one of the times Mr Holmes went slow and careful for so long Harry ended up trebling, the man stretched him out just enough for two fingers, which he moved around almost perfunctorily before removing them and cleaning them on the towel.
“I’d like you to try something.”
Harry could only pant, the quick job leaving him trembling with unfulfilled potential, teased but unsatisfied.
Mr Holmes pressed his hands to the backs of his thighs and spread his legs open and in the air.
“Go on now, try and feel yourself.” Harry needed a moment to understand what the man was asking of him, then he flushed bright red, but barely hesitated as he lowered his right hand from where it was gripping the sheets. He touched his little cock first, an enjoyable sensation even if it didn’t bring those jolts of pleasure that Mr Holmes’ touch elicited, but he went further down, passed by his balls and brushed his fingertips on his little hole – it was wet and wrinkly, and he didn’t really know why Mr Holmes paid so much attention to it, but it did feel… kind of nice, caressing it like that.
“There you go. Now try to go in, just a bit.” It was weird if he thought about it, but when he did try to push the tip of his finger in it went more smoothly than he would have expected.
“Ooh...” He was soft on the inside and Mr Holmes was staring at him even more intently than usual – well, staring at his hole, really. As he moved his finger, just a tiny bit, Mr Holmes bent down even more, he was so close that when he breathed out, hot air blew over Harry’s skin. A little more of his finger slid inside.
“There you go, now in and out, in and out.” So Harry mimicked Mr Holmes’ usual movements, slowly at first, then the man squeezed a little more gel right on top of his moving fingers and Harry could go even more smoothly. He picked up the speed because he thought Mr Holmes may like it and soon he could hear what was going on, even if he couldn’t see it. He would have flushed if it’d been possible, as it was, he had been red and hot for what felt like hours and he could only turn his head to try and hide from the squelching sounds his finger was making as he pushed and moved it into his own backside. He squeezed shut his eyes, he could almost pretend-
But he startled and opened his eyes wide when he felt Mr Holmes’ tongue lick over his finger and then actually enter his hole alongside it. Which, almost impossibly, made him come without a touch to his little cock. He yelped, maybe screamed a little, and then his body went lax on the sheets, all energy seeped out of him. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he was suddenly so tired... The bed so comfy...

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Neighbourhood Whore