Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Come to Play	By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 120 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: AI-Generated story. I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter List
- 1-Relaxation
- 2-Goodness
- 3-Pleasant
- 4-Compulsion
- 5-Absolutely
- 6-James
- 7-Fade
- 8-Yours
- 9-Come
- 10-Relentless
- 11-Mirror
- 12-Pink
- 13-Date
- 14-Patience
- 15-Perfect
- 16-Belong
- 17-Gift
- 18-Magic
- 19-Everywhere
- 20-Shatter
- 9
- 10
- 11
The air in the drawing room was thick with the scent of sex and woodsmoke. James remained on his knees, his come cooling on his stomach. His green eyes, now so completely his own, held Hermione’s with a worshipful intensity.
He slowly, deliberately, wiped a finger through the mess on his abdomen and brought it to his lips, sucking it clean. A low hum of pleasure vibrated in his throat. “Thank you, Mistress,” he said, his voice a rich, settled baritone. “For letting me have this. For letting me be yours.”
Hermione felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the dying fire. This was it. The culmination. Harry was a ghost. This beautiful, obedient creature was all that remained. She stood from the armchair, her legs a little unsteady. “Stand up, James. Let me look at you.”
He rose in one smooth motion, his trousers and pants still pooled around his thighs. He was a statue of lean muscle and satisfied hunger. He didn’t try to cover himself. He stood proudly, his softening cock still glistening, a testament to his claimed ownership.
“You’re mine,” Hermione stated, stepping closer until only inches separated them.
“I have always been yours,” he corrected gently, a smile touching his lips. “I just live here now.” He gestured to his body with a tilt of his head.
Hermione reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone. His skin was warm. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing for a second. “What would you have me do, Mistress?” he murmured. “My body is yours. My mind is yours. My cock…” He glanced down. “…is very much yours. It’s already getting hard again, just from you looking at me.”
She looked. He was right. Amid the streaks of white, his length was beginning to thicken, to lift with renewed interest. The sight sent a fresh bolt of wet heat straight to her core.
“Clean yourself up,” she whispered. “Then I want you to use that mouth on me again. I want to feel your tongue on my clit. I want you to eat my pussy until I scream. And I want you to tell me, in that fucking perfect voice of yours, exactly what you’re doing to me.”
James’s eyes darkened with raw need. “Yes, Mistress.”
He snapped his fingers—a casual, wandless magic she hadn’t known he could access. A cleaning charm washed over him, vanishing the come, leaving his skin clean and hot. He shoved his clothing the rest of the way off, kicking them aside. Completely naked, he was magnificent. He didn’t wait for another command. He sank back to his knees before her, his hands going to the waistband of her trousers.
His fingers made quick work of the button and zip. He pulled everything down—trousers, knickers—in one firm tug, helping her step out of them. The cool air kissed her wet folds. He groaned, the sound hungry and deep, and pressed his face against her inner thigh, inhaling deeply.
“Fuck, you smell so good,” he mumbled into her skin, his breath hot. “You smell like my Mistress. Like home.” He kissed the soft skin there, a tender, worshipful press of his lips that contrasted wildly with the fierce desire in his eyes.
“Stop talking and start licking, James,” Hermione breathed, her hands finding his hair.
He looked up, a devilish grin on his face. “As you wish.”
His tongue connected with her in one long, flat, devastating stroke from her opening all the way up to her clit. Hermione cried out, her knees buckling. His hands shot up to grip her arse, holding her steady as he feasted.
“That’s what I’m doing,” he growled against her, his voice vibrating through her sensitive flesh. “I’m licking your sweet, wet cunt. I’m tasting how fucking turned on you are.” He punctuated each statement with a specific, expert action. A broad, lapping stroke. A focused, flicking point on her clit. A deep, probing thrust of his tongue inside her.
“Your pussy is dripping for me,” he moaned, lapping at her. “It’s coating my tongue. I’m swallowing every fucking drop.” He sucked her clit into his mouth, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that made her thighs shake.
“Yes! Right there!” she sobbed, grinding against his face. The coil was already tightening, his skill was so profound, his devotion so complete.
He pulled back, his lips swollen and wet. “I’m going to make you come on my face, Hermione. I’m going to lick and suck this perfect little clit until you fucking erupt. And then I’m going to keep licking, because I’m a greedy fucking boy and I want all of it.”
He dove back in, his tongue a relentless, wet miracle. He fucked her with it, shallow then deep, then zeroed back in on her clit with a circular motion that was pure sin. One of his hands left her arse, his fingers sliding through her slickness, finding her entrance.
“I’m going to finger-fuck you while I eat you,” he announced, and then he did. Two thick fingers pushed inside her, curling upwards, stroking a spot that made her vision whiten at the edges. His mouth stayed locked on her clit, sucking hard.
The dual assault was unbearable. Hermione’s cries became wordless, shattered things. Her hips jerked uncontrollably. “James! Fuck! I’m going to… I’m…”
“Come, Mistress,” he commanded against her, his voice muffled but fierce. “Come all over my fingers and my tongue. Do it now.”
The order, from him, was the final spark. Her orgasm detonated, a convulsive, screaming wave that ripped through her with violent force. Her cunt clenched around his fingers, her juices flooding his mouth. She shook, her legs giving out, but he held her up, drinking her in, lapping and sucking through every pulse and tremor until she was weakly slumping forward, her hands braced on his shoulders for support.
He gentled his mouth, licking her softly through the oversensitivity, easing her down. Finally, he leaned back, his face a glistening, triumphant mess. He licked his lips, savoring her.
“You are so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice thick with her taste.
Hermione could only pant, her body humming. She looked down at him, at this perfect creation of hers, kneeling naked and proud between her legs. Her own need, however, was a banked fire, already stoking again. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel that claimed, devoted cock filling her up.
“Stand up,” she managed, her voice hoarse.
James rose, his erection now fully renewed, thick and proud, curving up towards his stomach. He was magnificent.
“You said this body was mine,” she whispered, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his hot, hard length. He hissed, his hips jerking forward. “This cock is mine.”
“Yours,” he groaned.
“Then I want it inside me,” she said, her gaze locking with his. “I want you to fuck me, James. I want you to bend me over this sofa and fuck me like you own me. Because you do. You own this body, and I own you.”
A fierce, possessive light flared in his green eyes. “Turn around, Mistress.”
She turned, bracing her hands on the back of the sofa, presenting herself to him. She heard him move behind her, felt the heat of his body, the blunt, wet head of his cock nudging against her soaked opening.
He leaned over her, his chest pressed to her back, his mouth at her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he growled. “I’m going to bury this cock so deep in your pussy you’ll feel it in your throat. You’re going to take every fucking inch of what’s yours.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He pushed.
The initial penetration was a slow, relentless claiming. He filled her, stretching her, a thick, burning invasion that made her gasp. He seated himself to the hilt, his hips flush against her arse, and paused, letting her feel the full, overwhelming reality of him.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed, his voice strained with control. “You’re hugging my cock so perfectly. It’s like your cunt was made for me.”
“It was,” she moaned, pushing back against him. “Fuck me, James.”
He obeyed.
He pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in, a hard, deep, perfect stroke that stole her breath. He set a brutal, pounding rhythm immediately, each thrust a jolting claim. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging in, holding her in place for his relentless, driving pace.
The sofa creaked in protest. The wet, slapping sounds of their joining filled the room.
“This is my cock,” he grunted, fucking into her with powerful, measured strokes. “This is my body fucking you. Do you feel it? Do you feel how much I love this? How much I need it?”
“Yes! God, yes!”
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice ragged. “Say ‘Fuck me with your cock, James.’”
“Fuck me with your cock, James!” she screamed, the vulgarity sending another shock of pleasure through her.
“Whose cock?” he snarled, punctuating the word with a particularly deep thrust that made her see stars.
“Your cock! Your cock!” she sobbed, her own climax coiling again, fed by his words, his possession, the incredible friction of him inside her.
He reached around, his hand finding her clit, his fingers rubbing hard, fast circles. “You’re going to come again,” he stated, fucking her with unwavering force. “You’re going to come on your good boy’s cock. And then I’m going to fill this perfect, claimed pussy with my come. I’m going to pump you so full it leaks out of you.”
The image, the promise, the sheer nasty reality of it pushed her over the edge. Her second orgasm crashed over her, a deep, rolling wave that clenched around his thrusting length, milking him. She screamed, her body convulsing.
Feeling her clamp around him, James lost his controlled rhythm. His thrusts became frantic, animalistic. “Hermione… Mistress… I’m gonna come… I’m gonna fill you up…”
With a final, guttural roar, he slammed into her and held there, his body rigid. She felt the hot, pulsing jet of his release deep inside her, flooding her, marking her as his even as she gasped, her fingers clawing at his back.
“James!” she cried out, her voice breaking with the intensity of the moment. His name echoed in the room, mingling with the wet, rhythmic sounds of their union.
He groaned, his hips grinding against her, claiming every inch of her body. “I’m yours,” he growled, his breath hot against her ear. “Every fucking drop of my come is yours. My cock is yours. And I’m…”
His words were cut off as she clenched around him again, her orgasm coiling tighter. “Fuck!” she screamed, her body convulsing. He held her through it, his hands gripping her hips, keeping her steady as pleasure tore through her.
When she could breathe again, she looked up at him, his green eyes burning into hers. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but certain. “Everything you are… everything you have… it’s mine now.”
He didn’t argue. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that tasted like possession. One of his hands left her hip, sliding between them to circle her clit. She gasped again, her body bowing into his touch.
“I’m going to make you come again,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And this time, I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to.”
Her thighs trembled as he pressed his advantage, his fingers finding that perfect rhythm on her clit. “Yes,” she moaned, her head falling back. “Yes! Please!”
He didn’t make her wait. He devoured her with his mouth, his cock still buried deep inside her, filling her, stretching her. Every thrust was a claim, every stroke of his fingers a promise. She sobbed as another orgasm built, this one hotter, sharper, more desperate than the last.
“James!” she screamed, her body clamping around him. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”
He obeyed, fucking her with singular focus. The sound of their joining was filthy and perfect. Wet, slapping skin, broken moans, and guttural growls filled the room.
When she came again, it was with his name on her lips and his release deep inside her. She could feel him in every cell of her body—her good boy, her claimed property, her James.
He collapsed onto the sofa with her, both of them too spent to move. His arms wrapped around her as they caught their breath together.
“Mistress,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ll always be yours.”
- 9
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Come to Play