Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Being Wanted	By : ChaoticReactions Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 126320 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. In fact, I'd be very thankful if this never reaches poor Ms Rowling's eyes. Nor do I make money off of this, nice as that would be.

Chapter List
- 3
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Warning: This chapter contains oral sex (M), anal sex, gagging, bondage, fingering (M) and exposure.

*****

It was with equal parts eagerness and dread that Harry waited out on the Dursley’s steps for whomever was supposed to pick him up to arrive. He’d certainly had an interesting week, but for now he just wanted to get out of this place and get to better company. The Dursleys had been ordered to stay inside and not so much as peek out the window, for fear of the changes in them being noticed. It helped that kicking him out and ignoring him for the day would have been a typical reaction, once.

That little face made Harry have to repress a smirk. His relations were no longer those people. And while, as the book (currently packed into the bottom of his trunk, wrapped in an oversized shirt) had told him, his influence might slowly and subtly fade in a witch or wizard, as their magic refreshed and naturally washed away his influence, the Muggles had no such protection. None of them would ever revert back to the people they had once been.

Harry counted that as a good deed, to be honest.

A pair of cracks down the street made Harry stand up, and he saw two people coming up toward number four. Once they crossed the line onto the property, he relaxed just a little, but he kept his hand tightly wrapped around his wand at his side. One of the two figures - Moody, specifically - eyed the action with something like approval.

It was a little worrying, that the man was so completely paranoid, and more so that he noticed things to make him so. Harry would have to be careful with him. Bringing in the older man would have plenty of benefits to his safety, but doing harm to his personality could be very obvious and lead back to him.

Then again, he had been impersonated for a full school year, which fooled even a supposedly close friend. It was something to keep in mind.

The other was Remus, who gave him a bland smile before straightening up. “What other creature was in the classroom during your private lessons?”

Harry blinked at him. “Do you really expect me to remember that? I was a little distracted by the boggart at the time.” Remus offered him a slightly warmer smile in return, but didn’t budge. “Oh, Merlin, alright. It was... it was in a tank, right?” He hummed as he thought back, running through the list of creatures they’d studied that year. “Grindylows?”

Relaxing fully, Remus nodded. “Sorry about that, Harry. Security and all that. Not worth the risk, is it?” The smile slipped just a little, and Harry knew he was thinking about Sirius. His Godfather’s name still invoked an empty point of pain and loss in Harry’s stomach, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier in the summer. Perhaps it was just distance, or perhaps it was the changes he’d gone through that made the loss seem less unbearable. After all, he hadn’t known the man very long at all, had he? And not terribly well, either. He would have liked to, but the chance he’d lost hurt more than what had really been there.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, Harry missed Remus reaching up to pat at his shoulder until he was almost there. Instinct kicked in, and he flinched back before the hand could make contact. There were clothes in the way, should should at least muffle the effect. But he hadn’t been expecting it, and he just really wasn’t willing to chance it.

Okay, the goal tonight was to figure out how to touch someone and not make them his. For safety’s sake.

Remus’ eyes dimmed, and he drew his hand away. His expression made it clear he thought it was grief that was making Harry act this way, and he wasn’t exactly about to refute that. So instead he ducked his head and let Remus usher him down the street until they could head to 12 Grimmauld Place.

***

The trip took very little time at all, and soon enough Harry was being ushered upstairs by Mrs. Weasley, who insisted that he go and see his friends and not be downstairs for whatever meeting they were having. Typical.

Immediately, he was set upon by his friends. Hermione caught him in a hug before he could do or say anything to distract her, but luckily it was a short affair around his waist, and Harry was able to lift his arms safely, if awkwardly out of the way. It was lucky he’d always been a bit off with hugs, since they nearly always caught him off guard, and thus no one found anything strange at his actions. Ginny offered him a wide smile from a few paces away, probably aware of the fact that they really hadn’t been friends until last year, and Harry returned it with an easy, if small one of his own. He was still supposed to be affected by Sirius, after all.

But Ron flopped a casual arm over his shoulder, the bare skin touching the back of Harry’s neck, and pulled him in for a more ‘manly’ type of hug (Harry was no longer sure what exactly was so ‘manly’ about avoiding displays of affection. It felt more like cowardice to be afraid of something so simple and easy as being physically warm, simply because he was male).

Heart catching in his throat, Harry shot Ron a look out of the corner of his eyes, and the red-head gave him a warm smile before letting him go, remaining at his side, but not suspiciously so. In short, he gave no obvious signs of being Harry’s, like his relations had.

Harry hadn’t even thought of what would happen if his new abilities didn’t work.

The conversation flowed around him, and Harry did his best to keep up, even as his mind whirled around the possibilities. The knowledge had never implied that it would fail, unless not properly taken care of. So, did he just... act like it had never happened? Wait until summer to enjoy his abilities again?

No, that couldn’t be it. It really couldn’t. Harry had changed, and he couldn’t just go back to being how he was. It would be fighting a part of himself that had quickly become intrinsic, and denying it would be like denying his ‘saving-people-thing’. Ignoring it would make Harry someone else, simple as that.

The knowledge had said that it would be harder to get someone who was magical, so maybe that was it? Ron was just showing resistance. He wasn’t immune.

Harry hoped so, anyway.

“Harry?” Started, Harry’s head snapped onto Hermione, who was looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Did you hear me?”

Shite, he’d lost track of the conversation. “Sorry, Hermione. I’m just kind of tired. I haven’t slept a lot recently.” Not for the reasons she’d assume, obviously, but true nonetheless. His friend shot Harry a sympathetic look, brown eyes filled with compassion, and he ducked his head in response. He should have felt bad for manipulating everyone like this, but he didn’t. Keeping the secret was more important. “I think I’ll just head to bed. Sorry.”

Next to him, Harry could feel Ron shift, and he straightened up in the kind of immediate response he would have expected for Hermione's sake, and not his own. His arm slung itself around Harry's shoulders again, and he offered a smile. "I think I'll head off too. It's been a busy day of waiting around like a lump, right?" That earned him some soft laughter, and Hermione and Ginny made their way down the hall to the room they shared, while Harry and Ron turned around the opposite way.

The whole time, Ron's arm remained firmly in place.

Something in Harry relaxed, becoming more confident as they walked. While this wasn't exactly unusual behavior, exactly, it wasn't typical either. It was closer to something Ron might do with Hermione, assuming they could do anything without the other's defenses going up. It was so much easier to understand why they acted the way they did, now. How they got embarrassed, how they were afraid of their feelings, how they worried over the consequences but wanted it anyway...

And Harry was going to help with that, by jumping straight over the silly dancing around part and going straight to what they wanted. It was just more proof of how perfect this was for everyone.

Once they were in the room, Harry closed the door behind them, heart pounding. He wasn't sure if Ron was prepared yet, but there was so much Harry wanted to do to him. No, with him. Ron wasn't his relatives - he was someone to care for, to have fun with. Harry wanted to make him feel good almost as much as he wanted to enjoy what Ron could do to him. All of which made Harry want to push him down onto the bed, strip away those annoying robes and that eye-searing orange Chudley Cannons shirt and explore every bit of him with his tongue.

But not yet. Not quite yet. Instead, Harry just turned around, aware of the way Ron's arm made them press together, chest to chest. Or, nearly, as Harry wasn't quite as tall as Hermione, and so he was nearly half a foot shorter than Ron. But that was fine - Harry wasn't the sort of idiot who needed to be taller to feel good about himself. He had other things for that. Most notably, the heat he could feel coming off of Ron, or the bulge he was starting to notice pressing into the place where stomach became hip. Maybe he could have ground against that, or fallen to his knees right there and tried to relieve him, but Ron wasn't ready for that. But, judging by the way his bright, blue eyes were starting to go a little hazy with lust, and the way they'd dropped to stare at Harry's lips, he could do this.

Wrapping a hand around the back of Ron's neck to tilt his head down, and then pushing up off the balls of his feet, Harry slammed their lips together in a heated, messy kiss. At first, Ron froze, but Harry licked over the seam of his mouth, trying to encourage him to open up, and slowly they parted to allow him entrance. Like this, Harry could practically feel the magic, flowing from his lips to Ron's, infecting - no, perfecting him. After the first couple of seconds, Harry felt Ron's arms wrap around his waist to help support him and hold him up, and his head tilted as he started to respond in kind.

Now that Ron was into it, Harry didn't bother to keep it nice or chaste. Instead he sucked on his tongue, pulling away to break the seal of their lips and letting the combined saliva start to escape. Everything about it was slick and wet and heated and frantic, and Ron started to meet him for every change, letting out soft noises of abandoned pleasure. He probably had never experienced anything this good, and Harry felt a spark of something like pity. That wouldn't do at all. Harry had to make Ron feel as good as possible, if only to catch him up.

Breaking away completely, and smirking when Ron tried to follow, Harry licked and sucked his way down his chin and neck, cleaning the up the lines of moisture. He smirked when he felt more than heard Ron moan, the vibrations of his throat against Harry's lips a mental treat. As he finished his task, he realized that was his first kiss. Well, okay, there had been the one with Cho, but that had been so awful he didn't want to count it. This one was real. This one made both parties feel good, instead of being guilt and tear stained.

Once he reached the top of the shirt, Harry tugged it down impatiently with his teeth and used his hands to shove the open folds of Ron's robes out of his way. Why did wizards have to wear so many layers? It only got in the way. But Ron was helpful, rolling his shoulders to help slide the robes off and letting them puddle on the ground without any fuss. Harry was tempted to kick them further away out of slight temper, but he had much more important things to worry about. Like, for example, sliding his hands under the bottom of Ron's shirt and scraping his fingers over his nipples. He could feel the little nubs start to pebble at his touch, and Ron moaned loudly as he started to rub the now more noticeable bulge against Harry's hip. This was getting a little too noisy, so Harry silenced their room with a thought. But why stop there?

Another quick spell left him with two strips of fabric. Bunching up one, Harry reached up and shoved his thumb into Ron's mouth, forcing it open. Rather than object, his friend just gave a shaky breath and squirmed a little harder. He was starting to reach the point where he was incoherent, and willing to do anything. Perfect. With a deft shove, the balled up fabric was stuffed into Ron's mouth, and Harry used the other strip to wrap around his face, tying it into place. With one last check to make sure it was all secure, and that nothing was getting in the way of Ron's nose, Harry smirked up at him, watching the pleasure hazed eyes plead. He'd give him what he wanted. Soon, even. But Harry liked to see that look, because it proved how much Ron - or anyone, really - needed him. They were helpless without his touch, without his help, without his permission. It send a spike of pleasure through him, and Harry gave his own shiver of enjoyment.

There had been more than enough foreplay, so Harry grabbed the front of Ron's shirt and backed him up until the back of his knees hit the bed, and he tumbled back onto the soft surface. Ron let out a yelp of surprise, but it was muffled and barely audible to Harry, which made him smirk down at him again. The first thing to get practically ripped off was that awful shirt (and, really, it wasn't like Harry was some fashion guru or something. That particular shade of orange just hurt to look at, and the faded logo did nothing to stifle the effect), followed very quickly by his trousers.

When Harry got to Ron's pants, he paused, an idea coming to mind. Rather than tear them off straight away, he started to scrape at the edges with his teeth, tracing the shape of his happy trail and slowly moving them down, inch by inch. Moving back, he mouthed over the clothed shape of Ron's cock, wetting it and making it stick. Harry could actually taste skin through the thin cotton, and he moaned, the vibrations directly against his cock. That drew a whimper from Ron, which came out as almost more of a gargle, and he squirmed and bucked up until Harry got tired of compensating. So he clamped his hands down onto his hips, pressing them down into the mattress. That just seemed to drive him wild, and Harry could feel and hear his legs shifting. But it wasn't the kind of mindless absolute-pleasure-at-anything Harry had experienced with the Dursley's. This was more... real. Personal.

So Ron got off at being a little bossed around, huh? Interesting. A slightly nasty part of Harry's brain suggested that maybe that was why he liked Hermione so much, but he shrugged it off quickly.

But, as it turned out, the way Ron's legs kept moving was actually rather annoying. And so Harry pulled away, summoning two more strips of fabric as he did. Sadly, the boxers had to go for this one, and so Harry stripped them off, lettings the pads of his fingers trail through the moisture and over hot skin as he did. Ron whimpered, mumbling out something garbled through the gag, but Harry just shushed him. Then he spread Ron's legs out, flat against the bed and wide open, before using the strips to tie them in place.

Another set of groans left Ron's mouth, and Harry could see his cock dribble pre-come, the clear liquid sliding down the hard length. Looking up until he caught Ron's eyes, Harry returned his hands to his friend's hips, and then started to lap, using the very tip of his tongue. As he watched, the blue gaze wavered and then rolled up, unable to keep watching, and his cock gave a twitch against the slick muscle.

Harry kind of really liked this. He'd expected blowjobs to be something he felt he had to do out of fairness, and something that he'd at least be decent at from his knowledge, but this went above and beyond his expectations. It felt good on his tongue. It tasted good. It smelled good. And Merlin did it sound good.

Eventually, Harry couldn't hold back anymore. He drew away, ignoring Ron's whine of loss, and summoned the lube. Not bothering with his own robes or shirt, Harry tugged off his trousers and pants in one movement, and then reached around with slicked fingers to open himself, starting with two fingers. Ron's eyes went wide, and Harry could see his chest heave with pants. There was a murmur of something that sounded like his name, and Harry smirked and licked his lips, just to watch Ron's face go redder.

Then, closing his eyes for a moment to prepare himself, Harry climbed onto Ron, lined himself up, and dropped himself down in one harsh motion.

Ron screamed and managed something like a buck, despite Harry pinning him, but he was too distracted to care. It didn't burn like he'd expected it to. It did, mind you, but he'd expected it to be worse than it was. Instead he was just struggling to regain his breath, since the sudden entrance had punched out his breath.

Once he'd collected himself, Harry braced himself on Ron's shoulders, feeling the way that stretched his hole, and made some of the excess lube leak out, slicking his friend to the base. Ron squirmed up, moans and movements desperate for movement or contact or anything, and so Harry leaned forward to press their lips together again, not quite ready to give Ron what he wanted. The kiss barely counted as such, more the meeting of teeth and tongue and wet, and this time Harry got just as slick as Ron.

Then, when the whimpers went up an octave, and Ron kept blinking up at Harry with wide eyes, begging as much as he could without words, he gave in. Bracing his feet on the bed, Harry raised himself up, inch by slow inch, taking in the way it scraped along his inner walls, and the empty feeling it left behind. Then he slammed back down, letting gravity take it's toll, and both of them groaned, one muffled and one openly.

Working on a harsh rhythm, Harry panted into Ron's mouth, their hot breaths mixing, and pumped himself up and down. His thighs were starting to burn, and he was getting close, so he snagged one of Ron's hands and brought it down to his cock. The redhead's hand wrapped around it, and with a little bit of encouragement he began to pump.

As his climax approached, Harry met Ron's eyes one more time, watching them snap onto him like a compass to north. "Come," he panted, and with a roll of his hips, Ron obeyed. The throbbing and the hot slickness felt wonderful, and Harry gave a gasp of his own before joining him. The way Ron's hand was pumping him made the semen splash down over the redhead's chest and neck, and Harry reached out to smear it into the skin, and then spreading more over his best friend's lips. Ron gave a sleepy lick, watching Harry with a warm look, and he returned the expression. This was perfect. Well, it would be soon.

Ron opened his mouth, probably to ask some question or another, but Harry didn't want to have to think to come up with answers. So instead he lifted himself off Ron's flagging cock. It slipped out with a wet noise, and Harry gave a small groan of disappointment. Then he flopped down half on top of Ron and placed his pointer finger over the older boy's lips in a signal for quiet. The redhead nodded easily, closing his eyes, and Harry was quick to follow in slumber.

***

The easy obedience that made Ron his meant that he agreed easily when Harry suggested they keep their relationship a secret for now. If anything, he looked concerned, like Harry might be having trouble coming to terms with it all. Annoying, but acceptable until Ron was a little more secure in his place. And it also earned him a nice slow blowjob that morning, so he could play the poor scared boy a little while if it got him treats like that.

Which meant it was time to work on Hermione.

Subtle was the name of the game for this one.

And so he began focusing on trying to touch her in little ways that wouldn’t gain much notice. It was difficult, since he’d always been so awkward about it before, and Harry rolled his eyes at his past self. He’d been an idiot to be so quick to deny himself something that was so wonderful. And now he wanted to enlighten everyone the way he had.

Which is why he’d been doing his best to be where Hermione was all day, and looking for excuses to get close. His fingers brushed hers when he handed her a book in the library. He knocked gently into her when going out the door. He ‘removed’ a piece of string from her bushy locks, the tips of his fingers scraping along her cheek and scalp.

Eventually he noticed her start to watch him for those movements. At first his heart caught, afraid she was figuring it out with that frightening mind of hers. But instead she seemed to be disappointed when he backed off a little. It was as if she’d been anticipating the gestures. Wanting them, even.

Which meant Harry could start to push it.

As he sat next to her on the couch in the library, Harry let his hand settle on top of hers. It was easier to concentrate on the magic in his hands, since he was so used to doing that for typical wizardry, so even though it was less potent than a kiss, it was still quite useful. At first she glanced at him, confused, but his blank expression and the flow of magic must have convinced her to let it go, because she quickly moved her gaze back to her book.

But it quickly became apparent that the text wasn’t holding her attention any longer, and after a few minutes Harry could pick up the faintest hint of feminine arousal. The corners of his mouth twitched up, and he moved closer, still casual. Now their legs were touching as well, her exposed from her knee-length skirt and his from Dudley’s oversized shorts. Slightly, sublty, Hermione started to squirm, the hint of her nipples showing through the bra and the shirt, and Harry licked his lips.

Now or never.

Sliding closer still, he knocked their shoulders together, bare arms brushing, and he leaned in enough to whisper into her ear. “I could help.”

Swallowing, Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth. The intake of breath sounded like denial, so Harry pressed a kiss to the place ear became neck. Her breath hitched, and the scent got stronger, so he did it again. And then again. “Let me help you, Hermione. I can make you feel good.” His voice came out a purr, more seductive than he’d ever tried, and she gave a little mewl in return. “Good girl.” The praise worked on her as well as a teacher’s always had, and Harry went ahead and smirked. Now he was authority, and Hermione was as good as his.

“Spread your legs.” He ordered, and Hermione gave a little gasp but complied, inch by slow inch. Rather than shove down her skirt, Harry slid his hands up from her thighs, until he could feel the wet panties. “Oh, I’m starting to understand why you like the library so much.” He chuckled, pressing his fingers gently against her clit. Hermione gasped loudly and the sound echoed in the large room. “I take it back, Hermione. I don’t think you’re a good girl at all. Good girls don’t get wet in libraries. They don’t let their friends play with their dripping cunts. Which makes you a bad girl, Hermione, doesn’t it?” Her head twisted toward him, brown eyes uncertain, and so Harry gave her another peck to the ear and shoved his other hand up her shirt and into her bra, rubbing his thumb over the pebbled nipple. “Are you a bad girl?”

Hermione stayed still for a long moment, before giving a slight nod. Stilling his hand, he blinked at her, waiting for a real response. She gasped in return, trying and failing to buck enough to make his hands move again, before she groaned. “Yes. Yes, I’m a bad girl. Please, go back, Harry!”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured approvingly, tilting his head for a real kiss. And then he ripped her panties aside and plunged his fingers into her flooded cunt, muffling her scream of pleasure with the kiss that would seal her fate.

*****

I apologize for the longer wait between these chapters. Due to so many people being on vacation at work, I've had much longer hours, which killed the time I had for this. But more of Hermione next time, followed by Ginny.

As always, kinks and pairing suggestions are welcomed!
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Being Wanted