"I'm so tight that you'd barely last five minutes," Scorpius purred, leaning close to whisper the words against Harry's mouth. "I've already prepared myself, so I'm slick and ready, but I didn't bother with any stretching—I want you to feel everything."
Harry's glasses began to fog up. Scorpius' breath was hot and raw and the scent of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. Worse, Harry now had the mental image of just what Scorpius' pretty arse must look like under those pants—slickened and ready for a throbbing prick to pierce it, stretch it, open it wide. Suddenly, Harry was all too aware of the sweat beading at the back of his neck.
"I can bend myself into the most delicious positions you could ever imagine," Scorpius continued, beginning to rock his body against Harry's, pressing an insistent erection against Harry's stomach, separated from him only by the nearly sheer material of his green briefs.
Still, the idea of bending Scorpius into odd positions like some sort of contortionist at a carnival made Harry laugh. "Scorpius, come on, get up and let me get back to wo—"
Harry's voice dried out in his throat as he watched Scorpius lean back. One hand braced against Harry's bicep, Scorpius leaned and leaned and leaned until he looked so arched that Harry could probably snap his spine if he touched him the wrong way. Only when Scorpius was arched back, his shoulders resting delicately atop Harry's desk, did he stop. His body was a perfect arch, and as Harry raked his gaze over the length of his pale torso, he devoured the sight of Scorpius' stomach muscles shifting when he breathed, his chest flat and rising, his hips the only thing connected to Harry as that bracing hand dropped away submissively. It left Harry in full control of the position, in full control of Scorpius.
He imagined ripping Scorpius' pants off, tearing his own zipper to release his prick, and entering Scorpius without warning, forcing him to remain in this position until Harry was through with him. The thought alone sent a ripple of excitement through his body. It had been years since Harry had fucked anybody, having been despairingly celibate since his divorce, and now he had to wonder, what was holding him back?
Scorpius held the position for a long time and then gingerly flowed into an upright sitting position, still in Harry's lap and looking even more limber than before, if that was at all possible. He fixed Harry with a knowing gaze and ran both hands through his hair. He opened his mouth to speak, beautiful pink lips parted to tease, but Harry beat him to it.
"I suppose I ought to see what you can do, then," Harry said, trying not to lose it. It was a mistake, he was sure, but all the reasons why it would never work were sent flying at the look Scorpius gave him and the guttural grunt that slipped off his tongue as it slid demandingly into Harry's mouth.
Re: Harry/Scorpius - Harry not believing Scorpius is as amazing in bed as he claims makes them do it
"I'm so tight that you'd barely last five minutes," Scorpius purred, leaning close to whisper the words against Harry's mouth. "I've already prepared myself, so I'm slick and ready, but I didn't bother with any stretching—I want you to feel everything."
Harry's glasses began to fog up. Scorpius' breath was hot and raw and the scent of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. Worse, Harry now had the mental image of just what Scorpius' pretty arse must look like under those pants—slickened and ready for a throbbing prick to pierce it, stretch it, open it wide. Suddenly, Harry was all too aware of the sweat beading at the back of his neck.
"I can bend myself into the most delicious positions you could ever imagine," Scorpius continued, beginning to rock his body against Harry's, pressing an insistent erection against Harry's stomach, separated from him only by the nearly sheer material of his green briefs.
Still, the idea of bending Scorpius into odd positions like some sort of contortionist at a carnival made Harry laugh. "Scorpius, come on, get up and let me get back to wo—"
Harry's voice dried out in his throat as he watched Scorpius lean back. One hand braced against Harry's bicep, Scorpius leaned and leaned and leaned until he looked so arched that Harry could probably snap his spine if he touched him the wrong way. Only when Scorpius was arched back, his shoulders resting delicately atop Harry's desk, did he stop. His body was a perfect arch, and as Harry raked his gaze over the length of his pale torso, he devoured the sight of Scorpius' stomach muscles shifting when he breathed, his chest flat and rising, his hips the only thing connected to Harry as that bracing hand dropped away submissively. It left Harry in full control of the position, in full control of Scorpius.
He imagined ripping Scorpius' pants off, tearing his own zipper to release his prick, and entering Scorpius without warning, forcing him to remain in this position until Harry was through with him. The thought alone sent a ripple of excitement through his body. It had been years since Harry had fucked anybody, having been despairingly celibate since his divorce, and now he had to wonder, what was holding him back?
Scorpius held the position for a long time and then gingerly flowed into an upright sitting position, still in Harry's lap and looking even more limber than before, if that was at all possible. He fixed Harry with a knowing gaze and ran both hands through his hair. He opened his mouth to speak, beautiful pink lips parted to tease, but Harry beat him to it.
"I suppose I ought to see what you can do, then," Harry said, trying not to lose it. It was a mistake, he was sure, but all the reasons why it would never work were sent flying at the look Scorpius gave him and the guttural grunt that slipped off his tongue as it slid demandingly into Harry's mouth.
This time, Harry didn't stop him.