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
- 7
- 8
- 9
He didn’t wait for an answer. His hands cupped her face, and his mouth crashed down on hers. The kiss was hungry, deep, full of the confused, urgent arousal thrumming through him. Hermione melted into it for a moment, letting his tongue sweep into her mouth, letting his hard body press her back against the sofa cushions. His erection ground against her hip.
Then she broke the kiss, panting slightly. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart hammer. “Harry,” she breathed, her voice a mix of surprise and gentle reproach. “That was… sudden.”
He blinked, dazed, his cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I just… I couldn’t help it. I felt like I had to.”
“It’s alright,” she said, a slow smile spreading on her lips. Her mind was already racing, testing the boundaries of her new tool. “You’re just… very relaxed. Very suggestible. Sit back down for me. Let’s just… talk for a moment.”
He obeyed, sinking back into the armchair, his trousers still tented. He looked adorably bewildered by his own actions.
“You feel good, though? Really good?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Incredibly good. And… turned on. Like, really turned on. More than I’ve ever been.”
“That’s wonderful, Harry. It means you’re fully embracing the healing.” She let a beat of silence hang. Then, her voice casual, almost offhand, she said, “You know, I’m a bit thirsty after that. Harry, be a dear and get me a glass of water from the kitchen?”
He began to rise, a normal, willing expression on his face.
She interrupted, her voice dropping into that soft, commanding register she used only for the deepest programming. “James, obey. Get your mistress a glass of water.”
He froze halfway out of the chair. His eyes went perfectly blank for a fraction of a second. Then he stood smoothly. “Of course, Hermione. Right away.” His voice was pleasant, natural. He walked out of the drawing room with purpose.
Hermione sat perfectly still, listening to his footsteps recede. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot through her. It worked. He doesn’t even know.
He returned a minute later with a crystal tumbler of cool water. He handed it to her with a small, polite smile. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, Harry.” She took a sip, her eyes never leaving his. She set the glass aside. “You’re so helpful. You know, these sessions do take quite a bit of my specialized time and resources. The advanced texts, the focus… it’s a significant investment.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I can imagine. I wish there was more I could do to repay you.”
“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “James, obey. Go upstairs to your vault and bring me two hundred Galleons. Right now.”
Again, that micro-second of blankness. Then Harry’s face lit up with a genuine-looking idea. “You know what, I have some savings just sitting around. Let me go get a contribution for your research. Two hundred should cover a lot, right?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. He turned and strode from the room, his steps quick and sure.
Hermione leaned back against the sofa, a slow, deep warmth spreading through her core. Perfect. Flawless. She could hear him moving upstairs, the clink of coins. He returned with a heavy pouch, which he placed gently in her lap.
“For your work,” he said, his smile warm.
“You’re too generous, Harry.” She let her hand rest on the pouch, the cool metal pressing through the leather. The power was intoxicating. He was her puppet, and he didn’t even feel the strings. The arousal that had been simmering in her since his kiss, since James’s expert mouth, was now a roaring fire. She wanted more. She wanted everything.
She stood up. He watched her, his green eyes clear, trusting, still dark with that confused lust.
“You know, Harry,” she said, walking slowly around his chair. “I’ve been thinking. This environment… it’s so safe. So private. We could explore deeper relief for that… arousal you’re feeling. A more physical release.”
His breath caught. “What… what did you have in mind?”
She stopped behind him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. She leaned down, her lips close to his ear. Her voice dropped to a velvet whisper, laced with absolute authority.
“James, obey. Tell me you want me to stay the night.”
Harry’s body went very still. Then he turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. The words fell from his lips with passionate conviction. “Hermione, stay. Please. Stay the night with me. I want you here. I need you here.” The desire in his voice was raw, real.
She shivered. “Tell me why, Harry.”
“James, obey. Tell me you want to fuck me.”
His hands came up, gripping the arms of the chair. A low groan escaped him. “I want to fuck you, Hermione. God, I want to fuck you so badly. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around my cock. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” He was panting, his knuckles white.
Hermione’s own breathing was shallow. She circled to stand in front of him. She looked down at him, at the desperate, honest longing on his face—a longing she had planted. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“Then show me,” she whispered, the words a sibilant command. “James, obey. Fuck me like you’re a sex god.”
The change was instantaneous. One second he was a pleading, lust-filled man in a chair. The next, he was James.
He surged to his feet, his movements fluid and predatory. The confused arousal was gone, replaced by a focused, burning intensity. His hands shot out, gripping her waist. He spun her around and pushed her forward, bending her over the back of the velvet sofa. His body pressed against her from behind, his hard cock a rigid brand against her arse through their clothes.
“As you command, Mistress,” he murmured against her ear, his voice now a low, confident growl that was nothing like Harry’s.
His hands were everywhere. One tangled in her curls, pulling her head back to expose her throat. The other shoved her jumper and blouse up, groping for her bra clasp. It came undone with a flick of his fingers. He palmed her breast roughly, his thumb scraping over her nipple. Hermione cried out, arching back into him.
“You want me to fuck you?” James whispered, biting her earlobe. “You want this cock inside your tight little pussy?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes!”
His hands went to her trousers, yanking them and her knickers down to her knees in one rough pull. The cool air hit her wet skin. He didn’t bother undressing himself fully, just unzipped his trousers and freed his cock. She felt the thick, hot head of it nudge against her opening.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t tease. He just took.
With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her to the hilt.
Hermione screamed. The sensation was overwhelming—a brutal, delicious stretch, a filling so complete it stole the air from her lungs. He was huge, and he was fucking her with a single-minded, divine purpose.
“Is this what you wanted, Mistress?” he grunted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The sofa creaked. “You wanted a sex god? I’ll show you a fucking god.”
He set a punishing rhythm, each deep, hard stroke jolting through her body. His grip on her hip was iron, holding her in place for his relentless pounding. The sounds were filthy—the wet slap of skin, their ragged breathing, her own broken moans.
“Your cunt is so fucking perfect,” James growled, his voice ragged with effort. “So tight and hot around my cock. You’re dripping for me. You love this, don’t you? You love being used by your good boy.”
“I love it! Fuck, James, I love it!” she wailed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. The coil of pleasure was wound impossibly tight, each penetration striking a spot inside her that made her see stars.
He leaned over her, his chest plastered to her back, his mouth on her neck. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. Until all you know is my cock in your pussy. You’re mine to fuck. Say it.”
“I’m yours to fuck!” she sobbed, the words torn from her. “Yours! Fuck me!”
He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing hard, fast circles in time with his thrusts. The double sensation was too much. Hermione felt her climax explode, a violent, screaming wave that ripped through her, clamping her muscles around his invading length. She shook, convulsing, her cries muffled by the sofa fabric.
James didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, his pace never faltering. “That’s it, come on my cock,” he snarled. “I’m not done. I’m going to fill this perfect cunt. I’m going to pump you full of come.”
The promise, the raw vulgarity, sent another shudder through her. She felt him swell even thicker inside her. His rhythm became erratic, brutal.
“Fuck, Hermione… Mistress…” he choked out. His hips stuttered. With a final, deep, grinding thrust, he held himself inside her, buried to the hilt. She could feel every inch of him, thick and unrelenting, as he began to move again.
The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, the wet, rhythmic squelch of him driving into her over and over. Hermione’s nails dug into the back of the sofa, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "James," she moaned, her voice trembling with need. She didn’t want it to end.
He growled against her ear, his breath hot and desperate. "You feel too good, Mistress. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.” His hands gripped her hips tighter, pulling her back onto him with every thrust. The force of it made her cry out, her body arching against his.
"Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop."
His pace became feral, his cock slamming into her with a brutal precision that left her writhing. "I’m yours," he snarled, his voice low and possessive. "Your cunt is mine to fuck, and I’m going to ruin you with it."
Hermione’s head fell back against his shoulder, her body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "James," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and desperation. "You’re destroying me."
"Good," he growled, his thrusts becoming deeper, harder. "That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be ruined by your good boy?"
She nodded frantically, her hands clutching at the sofa for stability. "Yes! Fuck, yes!"
With a final, punishing thrust, he held himself deep inside her, his body shuddering with release. Hermione cried out, her climax crashing over her in waves as he filled her completely. The room seemed to spin around them, the intensity of their connection overwhelming.
When he finally stilled, both of them were gasping for air, their bodies slick with sweat. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. "You’re mine," he whispered, the words sending a shiver through her. "All mine."
Hermione could only nod weakly, her body still thrumming with the echoes of their passion. "Yours," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "Always yours."
- 7
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- 9
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Come to Play