Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Servant of Lilu, King of Eros	By : SugarRayLM59 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 32006 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter intellectual property and I make no monetary gains in posting this work.

Chapter List
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PROLOGUE
Turning the journal over in his hands again, Harry thought back to what Dumbledore had said to him when he had bestowed it. ‘I do not believe you will find answers here, Harry, but I… cannot presume to withhold your mother’s final wishes.’ Smeared across the burgundy cover in hasty finger-painted ink were the words “HE NEEDS TO KNOW.” Sirius had found it in the remains of Godric’s Hollow, safely nestled in Harry’s bedding. Both the Grim animagus and Hagrid believed ‘he’ to mean either Dumbledore or Harry, and had left the locked book with the elder wizard. Dumbledore had attempted to open it numerous times since, or so he related to Harry, but the lock seemed keyed to something else, something specific. ‘Again, it is not my place to tell you to forget your mother’s dying words, but… panic and pain are not what that wonderful woman should be remembered by.’
Doubly morbid, as he’d been handed the grimoire minutes after his return from Voldemort’s rise and the death of Cedric. Still, it had eaten at his curiosity, time and time again. His mother’s dying wish was for him to have this book. What was within that he had to know? And why must he know it? Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry recalled the look on Voldemort’s face as a dark pulse had driven the Dark Lord more than a body length away when he’d tried to approach the teen wizard. Clearly, Riddle had believed he would be capable of touching the young man after using his blood in the resurrection ritual, but something had stopped the lich; maybe this book could explain just what his mother had done to protect him.
Harry had tried to open the book a handful of times since receiving it, but nothing had worked. He’d even pricked his finger and bled into the damn thing, and nothing had happened. So why, now of all times, had it clicked open?
“Mmm… whatcha readin, luv?” Hands draped themselves over his shoulders as he felt a very warm body press into his back, the woman’s modest breast pleasantly flattening against his musculature. She brought her face to his shoulder, kissing his neck before resting her cheek on his trapezius, her hands crossing at the wrist in front of him. Grasping the spine of the tome in his left hand, he reached up with his right, grasping the woman’s elbow and pulling it to meet his face halfway, kissing her thin arm just above the joint at the bicep.
“My mother’s diary, I believe.”
“How very rude.”
“S’pose so.”
“Any particular reason being in bed with me reminded you of your mum’s diary?” He could feel her smiling against his skin.
“No. I just heard it unlock.”
She hummed into his neck. “And here I thought you’d been developing an Oedipus complex.”
“Cute.” He smirked. “I’d been trying to unlock it for months…”
The blonde woman slowly slid her hands down Harry’s surprisingly toned torso. “Well, had you shown it this?” Both of her hands wrapped around his hardening shaft. Biting his earlobe, she added. “I know it opened me right up.”
Smirking again at her comment, the sole remaining Potter turned, grabbing a random object and stuffing it under the cover of the journal, propping it open so it couldn’t lock itself again. Standing, he turned to her, his cock pointing at her accusatorily. With a giggle, she leaned forward, kissing it on the head cutely. She looked up at him, her hands on his hips, grinning and blinking innocently.
“Look at you, trying to act all pure with the act still staining your back.”
The girl smirked lightly, leaning forward to kiss his hip bone. “I was! I was going about my day as a decent girl, daydreaming about moving to London, when this bad, bad boy, he just whisked me off my feet and dragged me home.” She kissed his other hip. “I’m just another victim of the troublesome Potter thug.”
With a laugh, he pushed her to her back. “Oh, is that so, Rachel?” He had, in fact, first met her walking down the street. He’d stopped to help her pick up the contents of her purse, which she’d strewn about having tripped while digging through it. As the last object was delicately taken from his hand- a coin purse of some kind- she finally locked eyes with him, her expression sliding from worry to an uncomfortable thankfulness. Harry had asked if she’d been okay, and after a few more sentences, she admitted she had been rifling through her purse purely to avoid eye contact with him. When asked if he actually attended a school for criminals, Harry hesitated before partially owning up to his false reputation with a non-committal ‘kinda.’ But, he followed, just because he wasn’t above a bit of sneaking about or knicking things, that didn’t mean he’d go groping women on the street. Her response brought both of them to a deep, burning blush: ‘what about off the street then?’ Less than an hour later he went from being one of the last of his dormmates to kiss a girl to probably the first to give one an orgasm. Shortly after that, he definitely became the first to lose his virginity.
“Well then, Miss Williams, what can this little street rat do to keep you from turning him in?” In the last three days, Harry had rapidly developed a confidence in his abilities. In between the panick attacks of reliving Cedric’s last moments, he allowed himself to fall deeper and deeper into his infatuation with making this pretty girl moan his name. Rachel was a year or two older than him (he kept meaning to iron out details like birthdays and middle names but kept getting distracted) and had spent much of the first day coaching him in things she liked. The second day, after they walked to get ice cream together to sate her desire for some sort of date, the teenage girl had been convinced he’d lied to her about his inexperience. Harry’s ego soared through the roof as the girl confessed in an orgasm-drunk stupor that she had never cum harder than his second attempt at oral. They had spent every daylight hour together that day, and he went down on her once more at dusk, in the park.
Today, the Dursleys were away, off to some company luncheon and then out to dinner with “the big wigs” that Vernon wouldn’t shut the hell up about. And so Harry took the opportunity to bring Rachel to a bed, specifically his. They’d made good use of it so far, and when Rachel bit her lip and glanced down her own body, Harry realized they were far from done. He knelt between her legs, easing them farther apart before leaning down to kiss the girl’s trim stomach, tracing light kisses down past her navel to her neatly groomed pubis. Looking up at her, he allowed his hot breath to roll over her wet lips, closing his lips to a tight circle to blow a more concentrated stream of cooler air at her sensitive nub at the top of her slit. Abruptly he moved his head to her left knee, and as he kissed there, he heard her groan in light frustration. He nipped and licked his way down her thigh, kissing the soft skin, taking as long as he could while still being in motion. Soon he was licking at the crease of her thigh, planting wet kisses centimeters away from her labia, closing in each time, the corner of his lips pressed to her swollen vulva, her breath hitching in anticipation…
His next kiss was planted firmly in the middle of her right thigh. Rachel growled in frustration, finally reaching down and grabbing Harry’s messy hair with both hands, pressing his face where she wanted it to be. To her chagrin, however, the boy was anything but done with his teasing. Chuckling, he placed soft kisses against her wet lips, his hands slowly running up her thighs, propping them up on his shoulders. The girl’s hands twisted, pulling a dull ache from his scalp, but this did nothing to dissuade him. Using his tongue to trace slowly along the outside of her swollen labia, he manipulated the flesh without actually tasting her directly. Long, slow licks, gradually rising from the flat of his tongue until he was ghosting the tip of the pink muscle just millimeters from her needy clitoris. Finally, he placed his puckered lips against her hood, pressing a loud kiss against her most sensitive spot.
And then proceeded to stare at her from there, until she groaned. “Haaarrrryyy, pleeease.” Rachel’s eyes were closed, her back almost undulating, trying to hump her hips up into his face, seeking friction. Smiling, Harry finally gave in. He parted his lips against hers, pressing his tongue out to lap at her, the tip of the muscle flicking over her clit before he retracted it, sucking firmly on the tiny nub. Hearing her gasp urged him to continue, lapping at her folds with long licks, he pushed his tongue into her opening, wiggling the dexterous muscle against her slick tunnel. He began slowly shaking his head, grinding the tip of his nose against her clit, trying to pleasure as much of her at once as possible. Her body began undulating in truth, grinding herself into his mouth and nose as she gasped out loud, aggressively seeking her own pleasure. Harry slid his hands under her ass, propping her up, holding her above the bed on his elbows, allowing him to push his tongue deeper into her, and both parties ground her sensitive button into his slightly pliable cartilage. Pulling his tongue from inside her, he licked upward, before sucking at her clit almost roughly, before he began lapping and sucking at her flesh rapidly, forcefully. Suddenly Rachel was yanking his hair, trying to pull him up her body.
“Oh, God, fuck me, Harry, I need it inside.”
With a long, forceful drag of her pussy, he pulled away, his hand replacing his lips on her clit. He looked up at her, hesitant, and she matched his gaze, panting in lust. “I don’t have any more rubbers.”
“I don’t care. I need it, I need you.”
Rachel had told him early on that she was on the pill, but she had insisted on condoms anyway, as you ‘couldn’t be too careful.’ Harry reasoned that she must be spectacularly horny in order to walk back on something she’d been rather obstinate about. “You’re sure?” She nodded coyly. Harry watched her for another few seconds before dipping his face down, taking a long suck and quick kiss on her swollen lips once more before quickly kissing up her body. Pressing his impressive length to her dripping opening, he looked her in the eyes. Just as he prepared to voice his question, asking once more if she was sure, she brought her heels to his back, pushing him forward, while humping her hips into his. His question died in his throat as a moan shoved past it and out of his lips as the first third of his cock buried within the girl’s wet heat.
“God, you feel so much better this way. I’ve wanted to feel your skin against mine since the first time.” That was news to the dark haired boy. Rather than linger on her declaration, he began pushing more of himself into her, stretching her for the third time today, but feeling her slick arousal bare for the first time. His breath was shallow and warm against her neck as he adjusted to the increased sensations, slowly pushing in as deep as he could reach, pulling a grunt of satisfied discomfort from the blonde girl. Harry hesitated, looking down into her eyes, waiting for her confirmation for him to move. Rachel’s nod led him to slowly start pumping his hips, working with long, deep strokes, pulling more than half of his manhood free, leaving her filled as much as either of her previous lovers that way, before powerfully pushing back in. It wasn’t hard for the girl to imagine the boy was remolding her, and briefly she questioned how this young boy was beyond competition with years of growth ahead of him. Her nails found his back, dragging them across the toned muscle so out of place on one his age, nearly drawing blood. His heated grunt made her exhale amusedly, before her breath was stolen by a rough thrust.
“Fuck Harry, I love this, I love your giant cock.” Rachel opened her eyes she hadn’t even knowingly closed, staring into his gorgeous green pair. “Give it to me.” Her hands slid down the small of his back, her nails digging into the taut muscle of his ass, feeling him flex as he fucked her. “I need it, Harry, I need to feel you fill me.” That pulled a moan from the boy, and she felt him twitch inside her. She responded with a gasping chuckle as she worked her walls around him, gripping him as he tried to maintain control.
“But. You-“
“Fuck what I said earlier, I need it, I need you.” The girl leaned up, gripping the boy’s shoulder with her teeth as that sentence drove him to bottom out harshly in her. As he tried to gather himself, she felt his breath on her shoulder, blasting out of his nostrils like an angry animal, a bull nearly beyond control. Pulling back, she kissed his neck, his jaw, his lips. Pressing her forehead to his, she waited for his eyes to open again. “I want your cum inside me.”
Harry broke. The teenager could not control the seemingly instinctual urge she’d pulled from him as his hips started to piston into the girl. Slamming deep, they both groaned as his unsustainable pace brought them both a strained pleasure. Her cervix bearing the brunt of her discomfort, his body already overworked and sore but finding just enough in reserve to keep his powerful muscles firing. Rachel’s eyes rolled back as she dropped her head back, moaning to her deity of the pleasure as his obscene tool ground into her clit’s sensitive internal counterpart, only for his prominent ridge to clip it again on the way out. The deep thrusts were unsustainable to be sure, but Harry held out beyond his own limited understanding, and blew Rachel’s expectations away yet again. Having expected him to wear out and blow within a few moments of beginning his rapid pace, she’d been holding back her orgasm in order to share it with his. Minutes later, he was still fucking her harder and faster than her previous lovers had ever been capable, longer than they’d been capable of sustaining their best, and so she lost control of herself.
As her orgasm crested, she fell back to the bed, moaning barely coherently, “I love you, fuck, I love you.” With that, and her clenching insides, Harry felt the familiar tingle run up his spine. Thrust. An obscenity. Thrust. Her name. And then he drove himself deep, and shuddered as he emptied himself into her, filling her with rope after rope, before collapsing, half on top of her, half beside her.
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After they’d enjoyed a few minutes of afterglow, Harry started to ask a question, but Rachel quickly silenced him with a kiss. She muttered that they shouldn’t talk, that she knew she shouldn’t have said what she did and hushed down his attempts to assure her otherwise. Pointing to her knowledge that boys didn’t like that word, she hoped he’d not be scared away by her accidental admission. Harry managed to get as far as the word “I” before she clapped a hand over his mouth, a sudden, strange desperation in her eyes.
“Don’t say it, not now when it’s just because I said it. If you say it to me, to anyone… make sure you mean it.”
They’d returned to cuddling, affection and warmth oddly at peace alongside shame and guilt. But teenagers are never allowed to have more than a few passionate hours to themselves, and with the Dursley’s due back soon, Rachel soon left.
So Harry returned to the diary. As he pulled one of Rachel’s socks from the book, the random object he’d propped it open with, he dropped it to the floor with a shrug. Sitting on his bed, which still reeked of sex, Harry read through what turned out to be mostly gibberish. The first few dozen pages were completely unintelligible, but with a deep frown, the boy sat down, tracing his eyes over every ‘word’ within, searching for some meaning. Eventually, he began to notice patterns, similar “words” repeating occasionally. After very little effort to decipher what he suspected to be some kind of code, the boy gave it up as a lost cause but resolved to show it to Hermione. Perhaps his genius friend could root out the pattern. In frustration, Harry flipped through the rest of the journal, searching for something he could understand. The abrupt stoppage of text filled the orphan with a pang of muted pain, his subconscious offering up the reason while his consciousness actively ignored it.
Then, near the middle, after a handful of empty pages, again in smeared ink like on the cover, the words “I’m sorry” finger-painted on the left page, with a Latin phrase on the opposing side. The young wizard read the phase aloud, nearly fumbling over the language he knew exclusively through spellcasting.
“Ego rogo conloquium cum Rex de Affectio.”
“Finally.”
Harry jumped to his feet, spinning around to look at the person who spoke from directly behind him. Person appeared to be a generous term. The humanoid now before him was pulling himself from inside the bed, somehow. It was almost as if he had broken the surface of a pool, and then placed his hands on the water to pull himself out. Disconcerting to behold, and Harry found himself very concerned as to how this… man had gotten into his room, much less crawled form INSIDE his mattress.
The intruder’s long arms stretched to their fullest, allowing him to pull his legs up from the portal, for lack of a more appropriate term, and he briefly held them at a right angle to his torso, out toward Harry, holding a gymnast’s pose for a few seconds. Dropping himself to the now solid bed, the otherworldly being allowed his left foot to find the floor, his right propped onto his knee, smiling happily. Harry stared, on edge despite the creature’s jovial expression, as the man smoothed his dark hair back between the horns sprouting from his forehead, the width of three of Harry’s fingers, curving closely to the creature’s head, tapering to a point somewhere behind his ears. One hand adjusted and smoothed out the long, loose tunic hanging from one shoulder to clothe the demon before it fell to his leg, resting, while his other hand reached out to Harry, clearly offering a handshake, but not leaning forward to do so, in essence prompting the young wizard to approach.
Harry, swallowing his fear, was bold enough to do so, after a handful of heartbeats. Reaching out with his right hand, he forced himself to maintain eye contact, more than slightly perturbed by the mirth in the demon’s impossibly blue irises. Harry’s larger than average hand was all but swallowed up by the huge palms of the demon, and the wizard found himself quite taken aback at the warmth radiating from the creature’s skin.
“Pleased to finally meet you, young Harry. I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time.” The demon retracted his hand, folding it together with his other and resting them in his lap, seemingly careful to maintain a since of civility; Harry could not help but find himself regarding the man as friendly. “I am known as Lilu.” Harry’s only response was a blink, to which Lilu only smiled. “My name was never quite as known as my sister’s, I know. Now, before I begin, do you have any immediate questions?”
“More than I can mention.”
“Fair enough, Harry. Let me go through the largest concerns, and you can ask whatever you’d like me to clarify. Agreed?” The wizard nodded after a moment, and Lilu’s face took a bittersweet tone as he began. “Your mother, Lily Potter, was a scholar. She sought to understand the magic of love, and in her explorations, found me. Now, you have to understand what very few wizards of the age seem to- there is another world than yours.” His voice was rich, his tone confident, but patient. “That world is where I hail, and it is a mirror of this one, in many ways. It is where magic originates. There is a physical separation between the two, which some refer to as the veil. Wizards and witches, and other magical beings, sift magic through the veil, pulling through what they need and using it. The realm, or ‘Kingdom’ as some of your predecessors thought of it, that I inhabit is that of Love. Ergo, magic relating to love originates from the equivalence of my ‘territory,’ follow?”
Slowly, Harry nodded, for the most part understanding.
Lilu grinned with approval. “Very good. Now, the very first scholars to learn of my existence mistook me as a king. While I do wield considerable power amongst my people, I am but one of a handful that claim such; the closest equivalent I could claim is that of an ‘elder,’ by my estimation. Still, their superstitious beliefs led to a large misunderstanding. As such, when your mother discovered me and my siblings ‘ruling’ the realm of love magic, she was very disappointed, but after I slowly gained her trust, she saw that I was not the ‘demon’ that I was written to be. Her discovery that familial, friendly, and erotic or lustful love all originate in the same magic was, in her opinion, going to change the nature of the Magical world. Specifically, she pointed to a greater acceptance of love-based magicks and, more to the point, certain magical creatures.
“Sadly, this is where the lesson turns grim.” Lilu frowned, his voice dropping to a sentimental tone. “She had, in one of our conversations, admitted that she was under threat of death, and more importantly, so was her family. I saw an opportunity to help her gain some peace of mind, while helping to move forward my own goals as well.” Harry, who had been engrossed in the story so far, begin to feel his bile rise, anger coming forth at the idea of this demon abusing his mother’s trust; Lilu immediately placated him. “I told her immediately that I was not being purely altruistic, that the solution I offered was benefitting me and mine as much as herself. I offered to give protection to any member of her family she wished, but that I’d need to place some of my magic within them. She turned me down, and I understood her reasons.
“Then, a few weeks later, she summoned me. In a panic, your mother asked what kind of protection I could offer. I explained that I could only protect those I had imparted with my magic, a double edged sword, and also that my power was tied to intent, that I could manifest an amount of intent into an equal amount of will.” Harry’s eyes widened, suddenly knowing where this revelation was taking him, and Lilu’s slid closed, either in shame or pain. “She consented to the protections, and told me to manifest her intent.”
‘Then she put herself between me and Voldemort.’ Harry felt like he was going to retch, and Lilu gave him a moment to grieve.
“Her intent was so strong that her will protects you to this day.” His voice was sad now, both comforting and irritating Harry. “She was an impressive being.” The demon gave Harry a few moments to gather his thoughts. “You may be wondering just what this means for you.” The young wizard finally dragged his eyes back to Lilu. “I’ll put it bluntly. You’re an Incubus, Harry.”
A/N- Apologies for the rough Latin, if you actually know it. If you can get me a better translation, I’d love to hear it. The aim is “I seek an audience with the King of Love (Affection)”
My solemn swear to you is that I will not post anything under this screenname that will not include smut. Evidently, that includes prologues.
Updates will be sporadic. I plan to explore the nature of (my version of) Succubae and Incubi as a sort of demi-demon/magical creature. Harry will not grow horns or a tail. Every chapter will include smut. I will elaborate on the nature of the magical realm and the veil. I hope to capture how Harry feels about his situation, as well as some of his friends’ takes on the issue. Those are the goals, anyway. Next chapter will include a conversation with Lilu, a conversation with Hermione, and smut- notably not with Hermione. Expect it to be long(er than this). 6-10k ish, I’d guess.
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Servant of Lilu, King of Eros