Baker Does Them | By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 539 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
| Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is AI Generated. | |
The dusty, forgotten scent of the second-hand bookshop was a welcome distraction from the sterile cleanliness of his bakery. Harry Potter ran a hand through his perpetually messy black hair, sighing as his fingers brushed another shelf of predictable, common cookbooks. Another dead end. At twenty-three, his life had settled into a suffocating monotony. Defeating a Dark Lord was one thing; mastering a perfect sourdough starter was another, and frankly, he found the latter more tedious.
Then his fingers brushed against a spine wrapped in what felt like old, soft leather. He tugged it free, a cloud of ancient dust motes dancing in the sliver of afternoon light from the grimy window. The cover was blank, but when he opened it, the pages were filled with elegant, spidery script and illustrations of decadent, impossible desserts. Chocolate Torte of Yearning. Strawberry Trifle of Abandon. Lavender and Honey Scones of Submission. The names were absurd, provocative. A thrill, sharp and unfamiliar, shot through him. This is different.
He paid the shopkeeper a handful of Galleons without a second thought, the book feeling unnaturally warm against his chest as he hurried back to his flat above the bakery.
That night, curiosity got the better of him. The ingredients for the ‘Scones of Submission’ were bizarre: powdered moonstone, a drop of his own blood, saffron harvested under a new moon. It was ridiculous. But what else did he have to do? He followed the instructions to the letter, his movements precise, a faint, coppery scent mingling with the lavender as his blood dripped into the mixture. As the scones baked, the air didn't just smell good; it became thick, heavy with a perfume that was floral, metallic, and deeply, inherently sexual.
The timer dinged. He opened the oven.
The kitchen warped. The air shimmered like a heat haze over pavement, and a form coalesced from the steam and shadow in the center of his small kitchen. A woman. No, not a woman. She was tall, with skin the colour of dark espresso and eyes that glowed like smoldering coals. Curves that defied physics were barely contained by wisps of black silk that seemed woven from the night itself. A scent of ozone, exotic spice, and pure, undiluted desire rolled off her.
“Well, well,” her voice was a low purr that vibrated straight through his bones. “It has been a very long time since a mortal was both brave and bored enough to call upon me.”
Harry’s wand was in his hand in an instant, a reflex he thought he’d buried. “What are you?”
She laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made his stomach clench. “I am Lilitha. A collector. A connoisseur. And you, Harry Potter, have just used my cookbook.” She gestured to the cooling rack. “My terms are simple. The recipes are real. Bake them, and whoever eats your creation will feel an... intense devotion to you. A thrall, as your kind might say. They will ache for your touch, your command, your very presence. They will be yours to enjoy, in any way you wish.”
He stared, his heart hammering against his ribs. “And what do you get out of this?”
She glided closer, the air around her buzzing with latent energy. Her scent was overwhelming. “Their pleasure…” she whispered, her heated breath ghosting over his lips. “…becomes my sustenance. The sighs you pull from them, the cries, the climaxes… that is the currency you pay me with. I feed on their ecstasy. And yours.” A long, elegant finger tipped with a sharp, black nail traced the line of his jaw. A jolt of pure, undiluted lust shot straight to his groin. “Do we have an accord, baker?”
His mind screamed no. This was dark magic of the worst kind. But his body, starved for sensation, for a break from the mind-numbing boredom, screamed yes. The part of him that had always been a little reckless, a little too curious, won out. He gave a single, sharp nod.
Lilitha’s smile was brilliant and predatory. “Excellent.”
In an instant, she closed the distance between them. Her lips crashed against his, and it was nothing like any kiss he’d ever known. It was a claiming. Her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting of dark honey and sin, and a wave of debilitating need washed over him. His wand clattered to the floor, forgotten.
Her hands were everywhere at once, skilled and knowing. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, her nails scraping lightly down his chest, making him gasp into her mouth. He fumbled with the clasp of her flimsy garment, but it dissolved into smoke at his touch, revealing the full, magnificent expanse of her body. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, her nipples dark peaks that tightened under his thumbs.
She guided his hands down, down over the dizzying curve of her hips. “Touch me, Harry. Let me feel your hunger.”
He didn’t need telling twice. He sank to his knees on the cool tile, his hands gripping her thighs, pulling her centre to his mouth. Her scent was concentrated here, musky and addicting. He lapped at her, and she tasted like the most exotic fruit, tart and sweet. She moaned, a deep, guttural sound, and her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Yes… just like that. Your tongue… so clever.”
He worshipped her with his mouth, learning what made her buck against him, what made her cry out. He feasted on her, driven by a hunger he never knew he possessed. Her pleasure was a tangible thing, a heat that built in the room, making the air hum.
With a sharp cry, her thighs tightened around his head, her whole body tensing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. The kitchen lights flickered violently. A wave of that energy—warm, buzzing, and intensely erotic—washed over him, and he knew it was flowing into Lilitha. She was feeding.
She pulled him to his feet, her eyes blazing with renewed power. She pushed him back against the kitchen counter, her hand snaking between them to free his aching erection. Her hand was slick with her own moisture as she stroked him, once, twice, a torturous tease.
“My turn,” she breathed, turning around and bending over the very counter he’d rolled dough on hours before. She looked back at him over her shoulder, an undeniable invitation. “Take your payment, baker. Show me what you want.”
He needed no further encouragement. He guided himself to her entrance, which was already wet and welcoming. He pushed inside her in one smooth, devastating thrust. She was impossibly tight, impossibly hot. She cried out, a sound of pure satisfaction, and pushed back against him, taking him deeper.
He set a brutal pace, each thrust slamming her into the counter. The room filled with the sounds of their bodies meeting, their ragged breaths, her choked moans. He gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh, anchoring himself as he drove into her again and again. Her inner muscles clenched around him, milking him, pulling him toward the edge.
“This… this is the energy I crave,” she moaned, her voice strained. “Every thrust… yes… give it all to me…”
He could feel it, a feedback loop of pleasure. Her ecstasy amplified his, and his, in turn, fed her. The pressure built, coiling tight in his abdomen. He was losing control, his rhythm becoming frantic, desperate. He reached around, finding the swollen nub of her clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. She screamed, her body seizing around him in another violent climax.
That was all it took. With a guttural groan, he poured himself into her, his own release a white-hot torrent that seemed to go on forever. The room swam, the lights dimming and then flaring brightly as another wave of energy—his energy—flowed into her.
He collapsed against her back, spent, breathing in the scent of sex, sugar, and spice. Lilitha slowly straightened, turning to face him. She looked positively radiant, her skin glowing, her eyes bright with stolen power.
She traced his lower lip with a finger, a wicked smile playing on her face. “A satisfying first offering.” She gestured to the plate of scones, now cool. “Now… go and play. I’m feeling peckish.”
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