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’s and I’m not making any money from this (or at all, in this moment of my life).
Warnings: the usual child/adult, plus humping, frottage, dry coming, promises of future debauchery etc. etc.
Thank you so much for the reviews! I answer every one of them, go check the forum ( http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/63461-neighbourhood-whore-reviews-replies/ ).
Sorry for the late update, life's been demanding. Even now I should be doing other things but... eh.
Enjoy!

After a couple of days of smoothing the kinks and getting used to each other’s presence and character (and convincing Petunia the boy was worked to the bone in Mr Holmes’ house), both man and boy were quite comfortable in their newfound routine.
In fact, Harry started to spend most of his time at n. 3, almost seamlessly. When Vernon and Dudley got back from camp four days later, going to Mr Holmes’ was already an accepted part of his days, and neither had anything to say outside Vernon’s snorting “his problem now”.
A week into his new routine, he woke up in his cupboard to his aunt rapping on the little door as usual, but was much more light hearted while he made breakfast for his relatives (Vernon and Dudley had returned not an ounce lighter and more hungry than ever), tidied up what needed tidying and finally made his way to Mr. Holmes' (the man stopped picking him up after the official third day), where he spent lazy hours in the man's arms. He was fed more than he remembered ever being fed – mid-morning breakfast, lunch, something before leaving and snacks every time the man thought he could use it (the man had said he could ask... But he never dared).
He still had to work at his uncles', but it was altogether more bearable when he was... pampered in such a way for most of his woken hours.
After nearly two weeks of this, he got that Mr Holmes was nice, and wouldn't begrudge him for asking questions, but habits are hard to break and when they talked it was mostly Mr Holmes holding conversation, telling him all sorts of things – mostly about plants or food or Mr Holmes' siblings. Most of their time, though, was spent on the couch, where Mr Holmes liked to lounge with an armful of naked six years old.
It was a really warm summer, so Harry welcomed the relief of not having to wear Dudley's heavy cast-offs, and, of course, he couldn't begrudge Mr Holmes for enjoying the same liberty. The man admitted he felt more comfortable in just his slacks, so that was the only thing he wore around the house. Harry, against his own better judgment, found himself very curious about the shape of a man not at all overweight, and would often catch himself staring, of all things! But Mr Holmes only chuckled softly when he got red from shame, and Harry couldn't even feel like he was being made fun of, because then the man would caress his hair, and he liked that more than he thought you could like something.
Mr Holmes seemed to like it too.
Right now, they were in their preferred positions on the couch – Mr Holmes sat with his legs spread and his back abandoned against the cushions, and Harry comfortably perched sideways on his left leg. The man had one arm on the back of the couch, and the other loosely held Harry's midriff. The boy watched the expressions playing on the other's face closely, while his palm worked the hard member in his grasp with the same curious zeal the kid applied to every one of their encounters. Every now and then the man would breath louder, and so Harry knew he liked it.
At that moment, a little shiver ran on his back. All windows were firmly closed, but Harry could swear the cold fought his way in just to lick between his shoulder blades.
Luckily, Mr Holmes never quit caressing his back with a large hand, and that had the blood rushing through his body. The man was now moaning under him. At first, seeing this big man come undone scared him – when the pleasure took him, he groaned and flexed his fingers on Harry's hips or thighs in a way that left tiny, purple fingertips on his skin for a couple of minutes.
But now, after less than two weeks, it felt almost nice. Apart from the physical aspect of it, that he always enjoyed (such closeness as that which he experienced in Mr Holmes' home was previously foreign to him), he could now appreciate and treasure the feelings that ran through him every time the man let go so completely of his restrictions. Right now, he could feel that Mr Holmes was close: the member between his fingers was twitching and seemed to strain to grow further in thickness. What's more, the man brought his right arm from the back of the couch to the kid's thighs and started fondling the supple flesh of one.
Watching the unadulterated pleasure on the usually composed face made a warm sensation take home low in his belly. As Mr Holmes massaged his thigh, the sensation got so good it was almost uncomfortable and Harry didn't know how to relieve himself. While Mr Holmes came all over his fingers, Harry started rocking back and forth almost subconsciously. He didn't know what was coming over him, but the feeling of Mr Holmes' very nice slacks rubbing the underside of his very naked thighs was both good and damning in his situation.
Mr Holmes got down from his high to the sight of the little boy on his lap rocking back and forth, with a restless, uneasy expression on his young face and a very surprising reaction between his thighs. Through this, the boy still had his hands on the man's chest and manhood, though he stopped the pleasurable stroking.
Mr Holmes was oh so tempted to leave the boy whining and biting his lips in distress, not knowing what to do – the sight of the boy flushed red from his chest to his ears was terribly endearing and liable to excite him all over again. The squirming, the way the boy rubbed his thighs together and positively mewled were just too precious for words. But the man decided to put him out of his misery, so to say, and moved the boy so that his legs were spread open, on either side of the man's waist. The boy couldn't bite back a sob, finding himself deprived of even the smallest contact on his tiny prick, trying valiantly to fill out completely. Mr Holmes circled the kid's little waist with his arms to give him the craved contact. Harry let out a strangled breath and put his hands on the man shoulders, where they curled and scratched without finding a perch.
So the boy was displayed openly for him, pale, clammy with sweat and nearly delirious with a kind of desire he never felt before. And Mr Holmes was enjoying the spectacle. He was the only one with total access to the expanse of skin and after stroking the boy's warm chest, he zeroed on his scrawny ass. He palmed the globes with abandon, relishing in the mewling sounds and kissing the boy's chin and neck. And when the man slipped a finger on the boy's crack and Harry barely noticed, Mr Holmes took unashamed advantage of it. He got his digit right on the little pucker and pressed gently, then pulled a little with his hand on the boy's side and Harry started humping his stomach.
It was a bit like having a lapful of over-excited puppy and if that didn't make him feel like a dirty old man, nothing would.
He was already spent, it would be a little while before he could go again, but witnessing the first arousal of the kid was giving him a warm pleasure deep inside, and it was nearly as powerful as having his turgid cock stroked.
In just a couple of minutes, the boy went from pale and a little winded to flushing hotly and whimpering without pause.
The man was caressing the boy's back and sides, but he wasn't touching where Harry really needed him to, so the boy was left trying to alleviate himself by humping the man. He couldn't control the sounds he made and his eyes wouldn't stay open, perspiration was making his forehead itchy but he couldn't have taken his hands off the man's shoulders even if inclined so.
He soon reached his peak, not even realising what was going to happen before it did. He screamed, unable to deal quietly with the burning sensations coursing through his body for the first time ever.
Harry probably blacked out for a time. He wasn't sure, but the first thing he remembered after the mind shattering experience that his body went through was being completely abandoned on Mr Holmes hot and sweaty chest, while the man pet him with this well-pleased smile curving his lips.
They stayed in that exact position for a long time before Mr Holmes nudged him up and accompanied him upstairs so they could wash themselves.
Harry was still a bit out of it. But Mr Holmes took care of him. He was always gentle with him. He washed himself off first, then took his time rubbing the wet towel over his shoulders and back, behind his neck, on his chest. It was slow and caring and intimate. At last, Mr Holmes deemed it enough and led Harry from the bathroom. Harry had tried to say he was big enough to wash himself after their first encounters, but he let it go when Mr Holmes admitted to him he enjoyed it.
They were at the kitchen table, and Harry was enjoying his second breakfast of the day. Well, he was eating, but also thinking hard. He was feeling a little conflicted.
The child honestly enjoyed being petted, and Mr Holmes never looked like he minded... But after years at the Dursleys, he thought he should be a little more restrained, a little more able at going on without that kind of attention. Instead, he found himself wanting more and more. More of the soft-spoken flatter, more of those big hands on him, more of the attention and he didn't know if that made him needy or a baby.
"What is it?" Harry released his bloodied bottom lip from between his teeth at Mr Holmes question but didn't raise his head. The man left the dirty dishes he refused help with in the sink and turned to take in the kid sitting at his kitchen table. He was a very pretty sight, still a little flushed and quick to drop his eyes in embarrassment. But it was clear he was thinking very hard about something, what with the hunched shoulders and his hands pressed on the chair under his thighs. He moved slowly and put a hand on Harry's head, to stop the child from squirming in his seat yet again.
Harry just started biting on his lip again, so Mr Holmes sat next to him.
"Harry, what is the matter? I promise I won't be mad, or laugh." He kept petting the child's hair until he turned to him. The indecision was clear in those cute eyes, but at last, he spoke.
"I... I like that." The man smiled.
"You do?"
The boy nodded shyly.
"Mind telling me what it is you like?" Heat coloured his cheeks.
"This." He gestured a little. "Being pet." He finally admitted looking at his lap.
"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" And it really was. The boy was pretty touch starved, Mr Holmes noticed that right off, but having the child expressing his likes - and therefore his wants - was a big step. Mr Holmes would have to reward him. He looked from under his lashes.
"It is? Isn't it... childish?"
"Childish? Oh, sweetling, no, many people enjoy positive contact. It is a good thing really. I sure enjoy it!" You could see the room lighten up as the boy did. This was just perfect. The boy was practically perfect and Mr Holmes couldn't believe he found such a gem in this prissy suburb. The boy really deserved something nice. Usually, after their late breakfast, they would cuddle on the couch where Mr Holmes would have his wicked way with the kid (again), but maybe this time they could adjourn to a comfier place.
"I'm really happy you shared this with me, Harry." The boy flushed with pleasure and was soon leaning into the man's touch shamelessly. Which Mr Holmes appreciated. "Did I let you look at my room yet? No? Well, we may as well do it now." The man stopped caressing the child just long enough to pick him up. He really didn't need to. But both enjoyed it, so he would.
He walked up the stairs with the precious child in his arms, breathing softly against his neck, so ready to be debauched.
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Neighbourhood Whore