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Harry fumbled with the latch on Tom's study door, his breath catching as he pushed it open. "You said five minutes," he mumbled, cheeks flushed. "It's been twenty."
Tom didn't look up from his ledger, quill scratching across parchment. "Patience is a virtue, darling."
Harry kicked the door shut with his heel. "My patience has run out." He crossed the room in three strides, pace determined and quick, and planted his hands flat on the polished mahogany. The scent of old leather and bergamot clung to the air. "Now."
A slow smile spread across Tom's face as he set down his quill. His gaze traveled up and down Harry's form, lingering on his chest and the waistband of his school trousers. "Demanding today."
"Always." Harry pushed his hips higher, arching his back until the fabric around his ass strained. "Stop pretending you're working."
Tom rose, chair scraping softly and rounded the desk. Fingers brushed the waistband of Harry's trousers, unhooking the clasp with practiced ease. The zipper hissed downward. Cool air kissed Harry's skin, as Tom peeled the fabric down, exposing Harry’s underwear.
"Desperate, aren't we?" Tom's palm smoothed over the curve of Harry's ass. Harry shoved his hips backward, a whine building in his throat. "Stop teasing." A sharp smack landed on his left cheek. Harry gasped, fingers digging into the wood. "Fuck—"
"Language." Tom's voice dropped, velvet and smoke. He pressed a thumb against Harry's entrance, rubbing slow circles through the thin cotton of his briefs. The friction was maddening—just enough pressure to make Harry squirm, never enough to satisfy. Harry whimpered, pushing back harder against Tom's hand. "Please. Stop—stop torturing me."
Tom chuckled, low and dark. "But you look so pretty when you're desperate." His thumb hooked into the waistband of Harry's briefs, dragging them down just enough to expose the tight furl of the pink pucker beneath. Harry hissed at the sudden exposure, pushing his hips back further. "Tom—"
"Quiet." Tom's voice wasn't loud, but it sliced through Harry's whine. He leaned forward, bracing one hand on Harry's lower back, pressing him firmly into the desk. The other hand slid down, fingers spreading Harry's cheeks apart with deliberate slowness. The cool air of the study washed over Harry's exposed hole, making him shudder. Tom didn't touch him, didn't thrust. He just *looked*. Harry could feel the intensity of that gaze like a physical weight, searing the intimate flesh laid bare.
Harry squirmed, face burning crimson against the cool wood. The sheer exposure was still a shock, even after countless times. Tom’s gaze felt like a brand, searing the most vulnerable part of him laid bare. He tried to clamp his thighs together, but Tom’s grip on his hips held him firm, forcing him wider. Then Tom’s other hand left the small of his back, fingers joining the first to spread his cheeks even wider with a deliberate, agonizing slowness. The stretch intensified, the cool air hitting his hole directly now, making him gasp. A low, rumbling groan vibrated from Tom’s chest – deep, primal, and utterly appreciative. It wasn’t just arousal; it was possessiveness, the sound of a man savoring something uniquely his. Harry whimpered, the sound muffled against the desk. The groan went straight to his cock, trapped and aching against the wood.
Tom finally touched him. Not inside, not yet. Just the pad of his thumb pressing firmly against Harry's fluttering rim, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. Harry cried out, hips jerking helplessly backward, seeking more. A choked, needy sound escaped him – half groan, half sigh – as his body instinctively arched deeper into the pressure. His forehead pressed hard against the cool wood, eyes squeezed shut.
"Listen to that," Tom murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement. The thumb continued its maddening orbit, applying just enough pressure to make Harry tremble. "Such a desperate little slut. You act like you’re starved for it." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Harry's exposed skin. "You love this, don't you? Love having your greedy little hole played with. Begging for it without saying a word."
Harry couldn't deny it. Another soft, involuntary sigh escaped him, followed by a low hum of pure approval as Tom's thumb pressed harder, circling with agonizing precision. His hips rocked back in tiny, desperate arcs, chasing the pressure. "Tom—"
"Shh." Tom withdrew his thumb abruptly. Harry whimpered at the sudden loss, the emptiness sharp. Before the protest fully formed, Tom replaced his thumb with a slick finger—cold lube, Harry registered distantly—pressing firmly against Harry’s entrance. The tip breached him with deliberate slowness, stretching the tight ring of muscle. Harry hissed, fingers scrabbling against the wood grain. "Fuck—"
"Patience," Tom breathed, his voice rough velvet against Harry’s ear as he leaned over him, pinning him harder against the desk. The finger pushed deeper, knuckle by knuckle, a relentless invasion that burned and filled. Harry gasped, arching his spine, trying to take more, faster. Tom chuckled, the sound vibrating through Harry’s back. "Don’t worry little slut. You’ll get the pounding you deserve." He twisted the finger inside, curling it just so, scraping deliberately over that spot that made Harry’s vision blur white. A choked scream tore from Harry’s throat, muffled against the wood. His hips jerked wildly, impaling himself harder onto Tom’s hand. "Yes!" Harry gasped, voice ragged, broken. "That’s it! That’s the spot! Right fucking there!"
Tom rewarded him with another brutal curl of his finger, hitting that bundle of nerves dead-on. Pleasure exploded, sharp and molten, radiating outwards from Harry’s core, making his legs shake violently. "Yes! Yes!" Harry chanted, the words muffled against the desk, a desperate mantra escaping with each ragged breath. His knuckles were white where they gripped the wood edge, his entire body taut as a bowstring, trembling with the effort to stay still while Tom worked him open with that single, devastating finger. "More, please, Tom—*more*!"
A second finger pressed against Harry's entrance, slick and insistent alongside the first. Tom didn't ease it in; he pushed, stretching Harry wider in one firm, burning glide. Harry cried out, a ragged sound torn from his throat as his body arched, instinctively trying to accommodate the sudden fullness. Tears pricked his eyes. "Fuck—so good—"
"Tight," Tom growled, the word rough against Harry's sweat-damp neck. He scissored his fingers slowly, deliberately stretching the resisting muscle, the drag sending sharp sparks of pleasure-pain through Harry's core. Harry gasped, hips pushing back instinctively. "Shouldn't be this tight, little slut," Tom murmured, a dark chuckle vibrating against Harry's spine. "Not with how much cock you take. How much you *beg* for it." He twisted his fingers sharply, hitting that spot again. Harry choked back a sob, his body clenching involuntarily around the intrusion. "Fuck! Tom—"
"Quiet," Tom hissed, his free hand clamping over Harry's mouth, muffling the desperate cries. The fingers inside Harry curled again, relentless, hitting that sweet spot with cruel precision. Harry bucked violently, a muffled scream vibrating against Tom's palm. Tears blurred his vision as pleasure coiled impossibly tight, threatening to snap. "You want to come like this?" Tom breathed, hot and dangerous against Harry's ear. "Screaming into my hand like a whore who cums from a simple finger fuck?" He twisted his fingers harder, stretching Harry wider. The burn was exquisite, mixed with the sharp sting of humiliation. Harry nodded frantically against Tom's hand, hips grinding back onto the invading fingers, chasing the oblivion promised by that relentless pressure.
Tom adds a third finger, stretching Harry wide with a brutal, burning glide that punched the air from his lungs. Tom’s fingers then withdrew abruptly, leaving Harry clenching around empty air, a raw gasp escaping him. Before the protest could form, Tom’s palm cracked sharply against Harry’s exposed ass cheek—once, twice—the sound echoing sharply in the quiet study. Stinging heat bloomed across his skin. Harry cried out, arching his back instinctively, pushing his throbbing hole higher. "Oh, Merlin, *yes*!" Harry gasped, the words ragged and desperate against the wood grain. "Stretch me—spank me— *fuck* me—"
Tom leaned forward, his voice a dark rumble against Harry’s ear. "Stretch what?" he breathed, fingers tightening possessively on Harry’s hips. "Say it."
Harry’s face flushed crimson against the wood. The words choked him—filthy, humiliating—but the heat pooling low in his belly demanded them. He pushed his hips back obscenely, arching his spine until his exposed hole fluttered helplessly open. "My—" he gasped, voice thick with need. "My hungry little fuck hole, Tom. *Stretch it*." The admission tore from him, raw and desperate.
Tom’s answering growl vibrated through Harry’s bones. "Good boy." He didn’t hesitate. Three thick fingers plunged back inside with brutal force, stretching Harry wide open in one searing thrust. Harry screamed into the wood, back arching violently, tears streaking his cheeks. The stretch burned—a glorious, punishing fire—as Tom scissored his fingers ruthlessly, spreading him wider. "So greedy," Tom hissed, his breath hot on Harry’s neck. "Look at you. Clenching around me like you want to suck my fingers dry." He twisted them sharply, grinding against Harry’s prostate. White light exploded behind Harry’
Harry gasped, shuddering. "Fingers. Keep them—*keep them right there*!" The command ripped from him, raw and guttural. He couldn’t bear the withdrawal again. Not now. Not when Tom’s fingers were buried deep, hitting that perfect, devastating spot. He needed them anchored inside, stretching him, filling him—*now*. "Don’t you pull out!"
Tom chuckled, dark and approving. "Asking nicely?" His fingers curled deeper, pressing relentlessly against Harry’s prostate, making him writhe. "Or demanding?"
"Both!" Harry choked out. He braced his hands flat on the desk, knuckles white. Then, fueled by pure, desperate need, he started humping the wood. Small, frantic thrusts of his hips, grinding his aching cock against the cool, smooth surface while Tom’s fingers remained buried deep inside him. The friction was rough, almost painful against his trapped erection, but it was *something*. It kept the fire stoked, kept him from screaming as Tom’s fingers stayed anchored, stretching him wide, pressing that perfect spot with every shallow grind Harry made.
He whimpered, a high, broken sound, hips pistoning faster. The desk creaked softly beneath him. "Feel it?" Tom breathed, his voice thick with dark fascination. "Feel how empty you are even with my fingers stuffing you full? That’s why you’re rutting like a bitch in heat." He twisted his wrist sharply. Harry cried out, hips stuttering. "Because you know fingers aren’t enough. You need *cock*. Deep. Hard. Fast."
Harry nodded frantically, unable to speak. Tears blurred his vision. He kept grinding, chasing the impossible friction, Tom's fingers a cruel anchor inside him. His shirt sleeves swallowed his hands, smelling faintly of Tom's cologne and sweat—utterly humiliating, utterly necessary. Footsteps crunched gravel outside the study window, terrifyingly close.
Tom withdrew his fingers slowly, deliberately. Harry whimpered at the sudden emptiness, clenching around nothing. "Shh," Tom murmured, pressing a kiss to the sweat-damp nape of Harry's neck. "Greedy thing." Before Harry could protest, Tom slid four thick fingers into him without warning. Harry's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp before a ragged, guttural wail tore from his throat—high-pitched and desperate, echoing off the study walls. His spine arched violently, fingers scrambling against the desk as the brutal stretch burned through him.
Tom didn't pause. His hand became a piston. Fingers plunged deep, knuckles slamming against Harry's asscheeks with wet, rhythmic smacks. *Squelch-squelch-squelch*. The obscene sound of lube and Harry's body yielding filled the air, punctuated by Harry's frantic chant: "There! There! Fuck! *There*!" Each thrust hammered Harry's prostate dead-on, relentless, brutal precision. Harry's hips jerked wildly, trying to meet the punishing rhythm, his cock leaking onto the wood beneath him. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with spit slicking the desk. "Tom—please—don't stop—*don't stop*!"
Tom leaned forward, his breath scalding Harry's ear. "Louder." His fingers pistoned faster, a blur now. The squelching grew wetter, louder. Harry screamed—a raw, broken sound—as his body tightened impossibly around the invading fingers. "Yes! Fuck! *Cumming*!" His hips slammed back, grinding onto Tom's hand as his cock pulsed untouched, ropes of white striping the polished wood beneath him. Tom growled, fingers curling deep inside Harry's spasming channel, milking every last shudder. Harry collapsed, trembling violently, gasping against the desk. Tom pressed a final, possessive kiss to his shoulder blade. Outside, gravel crunched louder under retreating footsteps.
Slowly, Tom withdrew his slick fingers. The sudden emptiness made Harry whimper. He stayed bent over, ass raised high, hole fluttering obscenely open—pink, swollen, glistening with lube and his own slickness. Tom traced the rim with a fingertip, feather-light. Harry shuddered, oversensitive. "Look at you," Tom murmured, his voice thick with dark satisfaction. He spread Harry's cheeks wider, exposing the gaping entrance fully. "Ruined. Used. And so fucking pretty." He pressed the tip of his thumb against the stretched rim, watching it yield easily. "Tell me, Harry. After all that… do you still want my cock?"
Harry pushed his hips back, pressing his gaping hole against Tom's thumb. The movement was instinctive, shameless. His voice was wrecked, hoarse. "Yes." He swallowed, throat raw. "Need it. Right Now. Please." He arched deeper, presenting himself completely. "Fill me."
Tom chuckled, low and dangerous. His thumb pushed in slowly, stretching Harry’s abused rim just enough to make him gasp. "Okay," he murmured, withdrawing his hand entirely. Harry whimpered at the loss, trembling. Tom stepped back, circling the desk with deliberate slowness. The polished leather chair creaked softly as he settled into it. Harry watched, breath catching, as Tom undid his trousers with unhurried precision. The thick, heavy length of his cock sprang free, already flushed and glistening at the tip. Tom leaned back, spreading his thighs wide. His golden eyes burned into Harry’s. "Come here," he commanded, voice rough velvet. "Ride me. Show me how much you need it."
Harry scrambled upright, legs shaky. His hole clenched around emptiness, aching. He stumbled around the desk, eyes locked on Tom’s cock—thick, rigid, flushed, and leaking. Tom watched him, silver gaze predatory, legs spread wide in the leather chair. Harry climbed onto his lap, facing away, pressing his bare back flush against Tom’s solid chest. Tom’s hands settled possessively on Harry’s hips, guiding him. Harry hooked his legs over the chair’s padded arms, spreading himself obscenely wide, exposing his glistening, stretched hole just above the thick crown of Tom’s cock.
"Slowly," Tom murmured, breath hot against Harry’s ear. His thumbs dug into Harry’s hipbones, holding him steady. Harry nodded, trembling. He braced his hands on thr chair’s arms, took a shaky breath, and lowered himself. The broad head pressed against his entrance, a familiar, demanding pressure. Harry pushed down. A sharp gasp tore from him as the crown stretched him wide, burning deliciously. He paused, panting, feeling the thick ridge catch on his rim. Tom’s grip tightened. "Down," he commanded, low and insistent.
Harry obeyed. He sank lower, forcing himself down onto the invading thickness. Inch by relentless inch, Tom’s cock filled him. It stretched him wider and fucked him deeper than fingers ever could. A low, ragged groan escaped Harry as the shaft slid home, burying itself completely inside him. His head fell back against Tom’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. "Fuck," he breathed, voice thick with relief. "So full... *so* good."
Tom’s lips brushed Harry’s temple. "That’s it," he rumbled, satisfaction darkening his tone. He shifted slightly beneath Harry, grinding his hips upward. The movement drove his cock impossibly deeper, grinding against Harry’s prostate. Harry cried out, arching, his own neglected cock jerking against his stomach. "Feel it?" Tom whispered, one hand sliding up Harry’s chest to possessively grip his throat. "Every inch of my cock?" He began to move, small, controlled lifts of his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm that dragged his cock along Harry’s sensitive inner walls with each deliberate thrust. Harry whimpered, clenching down instinctively, the stretch still a sweet burn. "Yes," he gasped. "Feel you everywhere."
Harry lifted himself slightly, thighs trembling with the effort, then sank back down, taking Tom deeper still. The thick shaft filled him completely, a relentless pressure against that spot inside him. Tom’s grip on his throat tightened fractionally. "Enough playing," Tom growled, his voice rough velvet against Harry’s ear. "Time to ride."
Before Harry could brace himself, Tom’s hands clamped hard on his hips—iron bands digging into bone—and yanked him up hard. Harry gasped as Tom proceeded to slam him back down, cock hammering deep, punching the air from his lungs. Then Tom lifted him effortlessly again, only to slam him back down again. *Thud*. The chair groaned beneath them. *Thud*. Harry’s vision blurred. Tom set a brutal pace, bouncing him like a ragdoll on his lap, driving up into him with piston-like force. Each downward plunge hammered Harry’s prostate dead-on, relentless, unforgiving.
Harry squealed—high, breathless cries ripped from his throat. "Yes! Fuck! *There*! Right there!" His words dissolved into incoherent gasps as pleasure detonated through him, white-hot and blinding. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with sweat. He clawed at Tom’s hands locked on his hips, not to push away, but to anchor himself against the onslaught. Tom’s thrusts grew savage, the thick length of him grinding ruthlessly inside Harry’s channel. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the air, mingling with Harry’s desperate whimpers. Every brutal plunge dragged against his prostate, sending jolts of electricity up his spine. Harry’s neglected cock bounced wildly, leaking streaks of pre-come onto his trembling thighs and the leather chair beneath them. He felt raw, split open, owned. "Tom—please—gonna—" he choked out.
Tom’s teeth grazed Harry’s shoulder, a sharp sting that only intensified the fire pooling low in his belly. "Need—need to cum!" He arched violently, impaling himself deeper on Tom’s cock. The thick shaft dragged against his prostate with brutal precision, each upward thrust stealing Harry’s breath. Tears blurred his vision, sweat slicking his skin where it pressed against Tom’s chest. His neglected cock throbbed, a desperate ache against his stomach, smearing pre-come across trembling flesh.
"Not yet," Tom growled, his grip tightening on Harry’s hips, forcing him to slow his frantic bouncing. The deliberate restraint was torture. Harry whimpered, writhing against the iron hold. "But—*please*—"
Tom’s hand slid from Harry’s hip, fingers wrapping around his leaking cock instead. The sudden touch was electric. Harry gasped, hips jerking forward into the tight fist. "Look at you," Tom snarled, his voice thick with dark amusement as he squeezed the base hard, cutting off Harry’s building climax. "Desperate little cock slut. Needing to cum again." He punctuated the insult with a sharp twist of his wrist, dragging a ragged sob from Harry’s throat. "You’ll cum when I say. When *I* want you to." Tom resumed the brutal rhythm, pistoning Harry up and down his shaft with ruthless efficiency. The leather chair groaned beneath them, wood creaking under the force. Each downward slam drove the air from Harry’s lungs, replaced by choked whimpers. He felt stretched impossibly wide, filled to the brim, Tom’s cock a branding iron deep inside him.
Harry clawed blindly behind him, fingers tangling in Tom’s hair, pulling hard. A low growl vibrated against his back. Tom’s thrusts turned punishing, hips snapping upward to meet Harry’s descent, the thick head grinding relentlessly against his prostate. Stars exploded behind Harry’s eyelids. Tom hands moved from his hips up his abdomen, fingers splaying possessively over Harry’s trembling chest. His thumbs brushed over Harry’s peaked nipples, rough pads scraping the sensitive nubs.
Harry gasped, arching violently. The dual assault – Tom’s cock pistoning deep inside him and the sudden, sharp attention on his chest – was overwhelming. His nipples tightened painfully under the teasing touch. "Fuck!" he choked out, hips stuttering.
Tom leaned close, lips brushing Harry’s ear. His voice was a dark caress, thick with exertion and amusement. "Do you want me to play with your tits little slut? I know how sensitive they are." Before Harry could gasp a reply, Tom pinched both nipples hard—twisting, pulling—until Harry screamed, back arching like a bowstring. Pain and pleasure fused into white-hot lightning, racing straight to his cock and to his throbbing hole stretched around Tom’s shaft. "Yes!" Harry sobbed, tears streaming freely now. "Pinch them— squeeze them—paly with my *tits*!
Tom obeyed, fingers cruel and relentless as he rolled the stiff peaks between thumb and forefinger, twisting just shy of agony. Harry writhed, impaled and helpless, each brutal thrust driving Tom’s cock deeper, while his nipples burned. "So responsive," Tom rasped, biting Harry’s earlobe. "Every part of you begs to be used." He pinched harder, wrenching a shattered cry from Harry’s throat. The dual torment coiled pleasure impossibly tight—Tom’s thick length hammering his prostate, the sharp tugs on his nipples sending jolts straight to his cock. Harry’s hips jerked erratically, torn between grinding back onto the invading shaft and arching into the punishing hands on his chest.
Tom’s rhythm faltered, his breath hitching against Harry’s sweat-slicked skin. Harry felt it—the subtle tremor in the hands gripping him, the cock inside him pulsing hotter, thicker. "Close," Tom snarled, hands returning to Harry’s hips, fingers digging bruises into Harry’s skin, as he slammed him down harder and faster.
*Ah! Ah! Ah!* Harry’s cries punched out in sharp, breathless gasps—high-pitched, rhythmic, involuntary—as Tom hammered his prostate without mercy. Each savage thrust dragged against that swollen bundle of nerves, sending electric shocks up Harry’s spine. His vision whited out. The slap of skin on skin echoed in the study—wet, staccato, obscene—punctuated by the slick *squelch-squelch-squelch* of Tom’s cock pistoning in and out of Harry’s stretched, dripping hole. Harry’s thighs trembled violently where they hooked over the chair arms. He was nothing but sensation—the brutal fullness splitting him open, the cruel pinch of Tom’s fingers twisting his nipples, the raw scrape of leather against his oversensitive skin.
Tom leaned forward, teeth sinking into the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry screamed, arching wildly, impaling himself deeper as the bite ignited fresh fire. Tom’s hips snapped upward, grinding his cock in deep circles, grinding against Harry’s prostate in a relentless, claiming rhythm. Harry’s cock jerked untouched, leaking thickly onto his stomach. "Cum," Tom commanded, voice ragged, thick with his own impending release. "Cum around my cock *now*."
The order shattered Harry. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and blinding. His spine arched violently, a raw scream tearing from his throat as his cock pulsed untouched, thick ropes of cum striping his stomach and thighs. He clenched down hard around Tom’s buried cock, milking him instinctively as his own release ripped through him.
The heavy oak door swung open. A man stood framed in the doorway, impeccable robes, expressionless face betraying no surprise. Tom didn’t slow. Not for an instant. His hips snapped upward, driving his cock impossibly deep into Harry’s clenching heat, just as Harry’s own climax ripped through him with a final, ragged sob. More ropes of pearly white spurted from Harry’s untouched cock, splattering across his trembling thighs and the dark leather beneath him. Tom’s groan was low, primal, vibrating against Harry’s sweat-slicked back as he emptied himself deep inside Harry’s pulsing channel, thick jets flooding Harry’s core. Harry whimpered, oversensitive, his hole fluttering wildly around Tom’s still-pulsing shaft.
"What?" Tom rasped, the word thick and dark, barely audible over Harry’s choked gasps and the wet sounds of their bodies still joined. He didn’t pull out, didn’t shift his grip on Harry’s trembling hips. His gaze, molten gold and utterly unconcerned, lifted to the intruder. The man stood frozen in the doorway, his aristocratic features carefully blank, though a faint flush crept up his neck. His eyes flickered once, briefly, over Harry’s soft glistening cock, the obscene stretch of his hole around Tom’s base, and the pearly streaks drying on his thighs and stomach.
The man cleared his throat, his voice unnaturally smooth despite the flush staining his neck. "My Lord. The vote in the Wizengamot... it passed. Unanimously." His gaze remained fixed on a point above Tom's shoulder, studiously avoiding Harry's trembling, sweat-slicked form impaled on Tom's lap. "The Decree is law."
Tom didn’t move. His cock remained buried deep inside Harry’s pulsing, oversensitive channel, still twitching with the aftershocks of his release. A slow, predatory smile curved Tom’s lips. "Excellent, Steven." His hand slid possessively up Harry’s sweat-streaked chest, thumb brushing a stiff, abused nipple, making Harry flinch and whimper. "Such loyalty deserves... recognition."
Steven’s gaze flickered, drawn helplessly to Harry’s flushed chest, the peaked nipples still reddened from Tom’s cruel pinching. A low, involuntary sound escaped him—a hungry, wanting hum deep in his throat.
"Come," Tom commanded, his voice velvet wrapped in steel. He withdrew his softening cock from Harry’s gaping hole with a slick, obscene pop. Harry gasped at the sudden emptiness, clenching weakly around nothing. Tom gripped Harry’s jaw, forcing his head to turn towards Steven. "Look at him, Harry. He’s earned a taste." Tom’s thumb traced Harry’s swollen lower lip. "Tell him what he gets to do."
Harry’s breath hitched. His eyes, glazed and tear-streaked, locked onto Steven’s flushed face, then drifted down to the man’s parted lips. A fresh tremor ran through him—not fear, but raw, desperate need. His voice was wrecked, hoarse, but utterly shameless. "Merlin, *yes*. Lick me. Suck my nipples... make me hard again." He arched his back slightly, thrusting his chest forward. "Then... clean me." His gaze dropped to his own sticky thighs, the glistening mess between his legs. "Clean Tom’s cum from my hole… With your tongue."
Steven shuddered, a visible tremor running through his frame. His knuckles whitened where they gripped the doorframe. Tom’s chuckle was low, triumphant. "You heard him." With a rough shove, Tom pushed Harry forward off his lap. Harry stumbled, legs buckling, catching himself on the edge of the heavy desk. He stayed bent over, presenting his trembling back, his flushed, cum-streaked ass raised high, the glistening pink furl of his hole still visibly gaping. Tom leaned back in the chair, lazily stroking his softening cock, dark eyes fixed on Steven. "Don't keep him waiting."
Harry hauled himself upright onto the desk’s polished surface with trembling arms. He swung his legs wide, planting his feet firmly on the wood, knees bent, thighs spread obscenely open. His chest heaved, still flushed and slick with sweat, the peaked nipples standing out hard and reddened from Tom’s earlier torment. He deliberately pushed his shoulders back, arching his spine to thrust his abused chest forward, presenting himself shamelessly. His gaze, still wet-lashed but defiantly hungry, locked onto Steven’s frozen form in the doorway. "Here," Harry rasped, his voice raw but commanding. He traced a fingertip slowly around one stiff nipple, circling the swollen nub. Then, without warning, he slapped his own chest hard. The sharp *crack* echoed in the study. His pectoral muscle jiggled violently beneath the blow, the nipple bouncing. "Suck," Harry ordered, his eyes burning into Steven’s. "Now."
Steven moved. Fast. He crossed the threshold in three strides, robes swirling, his carefully maintained composure shattered. He dropped to his knees before the desk, hands gripping Harry’s spread thighs, knuckles white. His gaze was riveted on Harry’s chest, on the flushed, trembling flesh, the abused peaks. He leaned in, breath hot and ragged against Harry’s skin. His tongue darted out, tentative at first, licking a wet stripe up the sweat-slicked valley between Harry’s pecs.
"*More*," Harry hissed, fingers tangling roughly in Steven’s dark hair, forcing his face closer. "Harder." Steven obeyed instantly, sealing his mouth over Harry’s left nipple with desperate hunger. He sucked hard, tongue swirling roughly against the swollen nub, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. A sharp cry tore from Harry’s throat—pain and pleasure fused—as his back arched even further. His neglected cock twitched against his stomach, already stirring back to life. Steven’s other hand rose, fingers roughly kneading Harry’s right pec, pinching the stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting it mercilessly. Harry gasped, hips jerking forward into empty air. "Yes! Fuck—suck them! Milk them!" he panted, grinding his ass back against nothing, his gaping hole clenching weakly. "Make them hurt!"
A low, ragged moan vibrated against Harry’s skin as Steven sucked fiercely, his mouth working Harry’s left nipple with wet, desperate pulls. The sharp sting radiated through Harry’s chest, a delicious counterpoint to the rough kneading of his other tit. Harry gasped, fingers tightening in Steven’s hair, forcing his face harder against his flesh. "Merlin yes!" Harry demanded, his voice thick and wrecked. "Bite it! Make me *feel* it!"
Steven obeyed instantly. His teeth sank into the stiff peak of Harry’s nipple—sharp, claiming pressure that bordered on pain. Harry cried out, arching violently, his hips lifting as Steven sucked harder, tongue rasping roughly over the abused flesh. The sharp sting radiated through Harry’s chest, a delicious counterpoint to the relentless kneading of his other tit. Harry gasped, fingers tightening in Steven’s hair, forcing his face harder against his flesh. "Harder!" Harry demanded, his voice thick and wrecked. "Suck them like you're starving!"
Tom watched from his chair, fingers lazily stroking his thickening cock again. His gaze was molten, predatory. "He *is* starving, Harry," Tom purred, the velvet-dark tone slicing through Harry’s gasps. "Look at him. Sucking my little slut’s tits like a man possessed." Steven moaned against Harry’s skin, the vibration sending fresh shocks through Harry’s oversensitive nerves. Tom leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Suck them harder, Steven. Like he said.. Milk them properly. He loves having those pretty tits played with."
Steven whimpered—a desperate—hungry sound muffled against Harry’s chest. He redoubled his efforts, sucking Harry’s left nipple deep into his mouth like a starving man, tongue working furiously, teeth scraping the swollen peak. His other hand twisted Harry’s right nipple brutally, pinching and rolling the stiff nub until Harry writhed, gasping curses. Tears pricked Harry’s eyes again—pain and pleasure blurring into a raw, electric current that shot straight to his cock, now fully hard and throbbing against his stomach.
"*Fuck*!" Harry choked out, hips bucking uselessly. His hole clenched, aching for friction, for fullness. "That’s it! That’s it!" Steven obeyed, sucking with frantic intensity, his cheeks hollowing. Harry’s nipple burned, stretched taut in Steven’s mouth, the wet heat dragging ragged moans from his throat. Steven’s free hand slid down Harry’s trembling stomach, fingers brushing the base of Harry’s neglected cock. Harry gasped, hips jerking forward. "Touch it!" he demanded, voice cracking. "Touch my cock!"
Steven’s hand wrapped around Harry’s shaft—tight, rough. He stroked once, rough and fast, his thumb smearing pre-come over the leaking head. Harry gasped, arching violently, pushing his chest deeper into Steven’s sucking mouth. The dual assault—the sharp pull on his nipple, the sudden friction on his cock—made stars burst behind his eyelids. The man looked wildly over at Tom, his lips wet and swollen from Harry’s skin, eyes wide with desperate uncertainty. "My Lord—is this—?"
Tom leaned back in his chair, fingers still lazily stroking his own hardening cock. His gaze was molten gold, utterly unconcerned. "Everything is perfectly fine, Steven," he purred, his voice smooth as poisoned honey. "Continue. Milk him. Make him scream." A dark smirk touched his lips. "Just keep your cock out of his greedy hole and mouth. Those belong to me."
Steven shuddered, relief and renewed hunger flashing across his face. He sealed his mouth back over Harry’s nipple with desperate fervor, sucking hard enough to bruise, tongue rasping the swollen peak. His hand tightened on Harry’s cock, pumping him in rough, uneven strokes. Pre-come slicked his fist, the wet *schlick-schlick* sound mingling with Harry’s choked gasps and Steven’s own muffled groans against Harry’s chest.
Harry writhed, caught between the sharp pull on his nipple and the rough friction on his cock. Steven’s mouth worked furiously, sucking deep purple bruises into Harry’s chest while his hand jerked Harry’s shaft with desperate, uneven strokes. Pre-come slicked Steven’s fist, the wet *schlick-schlick* sound that drove Harry crazy. Harry’s fingers tightened in Steven’s hair, not pushing away—pulling him closer, deeper. His hips bucked erratically, chasing the friction on his cock while his abused nipple burned.
"Enough," Harry gasped, voice shredded. He yanked Steven’s head back by the hair, forcing the man’s mouth off his nipple with a wet pop. Steven’s lips were swollen, glistening. His eyes, dark and hungry, locked onto Harry’s flushed face. Harry didn’t hesitate. He guided Steven’s head down, down, past his trembling stomach, past the sticky mess on his thighs—straight to his aching cock. "Suck," Harry commanded, shoving the leaking head against Steven’s parted lips. "Suck me off. Now."
Steven obeyed instantly. He engulfed Harry’s cock in one desperate, hungry motion, taking him deep into his throat. The wet heat was overwhelming. Harry cried out, head thrown back, fingers tightening in Steven’s hair as the man’s mouth worked him with frantic, sloppy devotion. Steven hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, his tongue swirling relentlessly around the swollen head—the most sensitive part—where pre-come leaked steadily from Harry’s slit. Each wet, eager pull dragged ragged gasps from Harry’s throat. His hips jerked forward, driving his shaft deeper into that tight heat. Steven moaned around him, the vibration traveling straight to Harry’s spine.
Tom watched, unmoving from his chair, his gaze dark and possessive. His fingers still stroked his own hardening length lazily, but his eyes never left Harry’s face—the fluttering eyelids, the parted lips, the sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead. Harry arched back against the desk, his spine a taut curve, as Steven’s mouth slid down to the base of his shaft, then back up with obscene suction. The man’s tongue flicked insistently at the sensitive ridge beneath Harry’s glans, then traced the frenulum—that delicate V-shaped spot—with rough, knowing strokes. Harry whimpered, thighs trembling violently. "Fuck—*there*! Lick it—right there!" Steven obeyed, his tongue pressing hard against the frenulum, swirling in tight circles until Harry gasped, back arching off the desk.
Steven pulled back, panting, lips slick and swollen. He didn’t hesitate. His mouth descended again, sucking just the swollen head now, his tongue lapping furiously at the slit, tasting the salty pre-come leaking from it. Then he dragged his tongue slowly, wetly, down the straining underside of Harry’s shaft—a long, deliberate lick that made Harry gasp.
"Enough teasing," Harry growled, fingers tightening viciously in Steven’s hair. He shoved the man’s head forward, forcing his cock deep into that wet heat. "*Suck*." Steven choked, gagging slightly as Harry’s thick length hit the back of his throat. Harry didn’t care. He pulled Steven’s head back just enough to see the glistening shaft slick with spit, then slammed it forward again, fucking into the tight confines of Steven’s mouth with sharp, shallow thrusts. *Schlup. Schlup. Schlup.* The wet, rhythmic sounds filled the study—obscene, urgent. Harry’s head fell back, a low groan rumbling in his chest. "Ah! *Ah*! Fuck yes!" Each thrust punched the sound out of him—high-pitched, involuntary gasps torn from his throat. His hips pistoned forward, driving his cock deeper with each hungry plunge. He loved the stretch of Tom’s cock inside him, the brutal fullness—but *this*? The hot, wet suction, the desperate gagging sounds Steven made, the way his throat constricted around the head? Every man craved it. Needed it. Harry was no different. His cock throbbed, demanding more.
He gripped Steven’s skull harder, setting a brutal pace. *Schlup-slurp-slurp-gag.* Steven’s eyes watered, tears mixing with the spit slicking Harry’s shaft. He tried to pull back for air, but Harry held him fast, fucking his face relentlessly. "Take it," Harry snarled, voice thick with lust. "Swallow it." He drove his hips harder, faster, the wet noises growing louder, messier. Steven’s nose pressed into Harry’s pubic bone with each thrust, his throat working desperately around the invading length. Harry’s cries grew sharper, more ragged—"Ah! *Ah*! *AH*!"—echoing off the bookshelves. He could feel the tightness coiling low in his belly again, the familiar pressure building. Tom’s cum still leaked from his stretched hole onto the desk, a sticky reminder, but all Harry felt was the glorious friction on his cock, the exquisite torture of Steven’s mouth.
Tom watched, utterly still except for the slow, deliberate stroke of his own hardening cock. His gaze was fixed on Harry’s face—the fluttering eyelids, the parted lips gasping for air, the sweat beading on his brow. A dark, possessive satisfaction curled his lips. This was where Harry belonged—used, demanding, and utterly lost in sensation. Steven was merely a tool, servicing Harry’s need with desperate hunger. Harry’s thrusts grew frantic, erratic. His knuckles were white where they gripped Steven’s hair. "Gonna cum!" Harry gasped, the words thick and slurred. "Swallow it all —*ah*!" His back arched violently off the desk, thighs trembling. He held Steven’s head down, buried deep in his throat, as his hips jerked forward one final, brutal time. A choked, guttural cry tore from Harry’s lips as his cock pulsed, thick jets flooding Steven’s mouth. He felt the man gag, throat convulsing around the spurting heat, but Harry held him tight, forcing him to take every drop.
Steven moaned—a low, vibrating sound of pure bliss muffled against Harry’s groin. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he sucked harder, swallowing convulsively, milking Harry’s softening cock with desperate, worshipful pulls of his lips and tongue. His eyes squeezed shut, tears of exertion mixing with spit and cum streaking his flushed cheeks. He loved it—the rough handling, the taste flooding his mouth, the sheer degradation of being used as Harry’s cocksleeve. When Harry finally released his grip, Steven stayed bowed over Harry’s lap for a moment, panting, lips swollen and glistening. Then, without hesitation, he slid lower. His hands gripped Harry’s trembling thighs, spreading them wider. His gaze fixed on Harry’s gaping hole—puffy, reddened, and glistening with Tom’s spend that was leaking onto the dark wood. A hungry whimper escaped Steven’s throat.
He leaned in, burying his face between Harry’s cheeks. His tongue darted out—hot, wet, insistent—lapping straight at the loosened furl. Harry gasped, arching sharply as the rough muscle probed his sensitive rim. "Fuck!" Steven didn’t tease. He pressed his tongue flat against Harry’s hole, licking broad, messy stripes through the sticky mess coating his perineum and inner thighs.
"*Taste* him," Tom commanded, voice low and dark as he watched from his chair. "Taste where I filled him."
Steven moaned against Harry’s skin, the vibration making Harry shudder. He obeyed greedily, tongue delving deeper, pushing past the swollen rim to lap at the creamy spend pooled inside Harry’s channel. The thick, salty-sweet tang flooded Steven’s mouth—Tom’s release mixed with Harry’s own slickness. He groaned, sucking hungrily at the stretched entrance, tongue plunging in shallowly, then withdrawing to lick the leaking trails down Harry’s trembling thighs. His hands gripped Harry’s thighs, holding him open, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he feasted.
Harry writhed, oversensitive and overwhelmed. The wet rasp of Steven’s tongue against his abused hole sent electric shocks through him. "Oh god—*yes*!" he choked out, fingers scrabbling on the polished wood. "Lick it… lick Tom’s cum out of me!" Steven’s tongue worked deeper, fucking into him with wet, sloppy strokes, slurping up every drop. Harry’s neglected cock twitched feebly against his stomach, already stirring again beneath the relentless stimulation.
Tom leaned forward, eyes molten silver, fixed on Steven’s bowed head. "Do you enjoy it?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. "The taste of my seed inside him?"
Steven pulled back slightly, panting, his chin slick with spit and cum. He looked up at Tom, eyes glazed with desperate hunger. "Yes, my Lord," he rasped, voice thick. "It’s… exquisite. He tastes… perfect." His gaze dropped back to Harry’s ruined hole, glistening and gaping. "May I…?"
"Finish cleaning him," Tom ordered, leaning back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Every drop."
Steven dove back in with a whimper, sealing his mouth over Harry’s hole, sucking hard. His tongue plunged deep, lapping frantically at the creamy residue clinging to Harry’s inner walls. Harry cried out, back arching violently as Steven’s tongue dragged ruthlessly over his oversensitive prostate. The sharp, unexpected pleasure-pain ripped through him—bright and blinding. His cock jerked, spilling a thin, weak stream of cum onto his already-sticky stomach untouched. "Fuck! *Fuck*!" Harry sobbed, trembling uncontrollably as Steven drank him down, swallowing every last trace of Tom’s claim.
Tom watched, fingers still lazily stroking his own cock, now fully hard again. His gaze burned into Steven’s bowed head. "Good," he murmured, the word thick with dark approval. "Very thorough." Steven whimpered against Harry’s skin, lapping at the flushed, gaping rim with desperate reverence. Harry gasped, fingers clawing at the desk, overwhelmed by the relentless tongue fucking him open.
Tom stood abruptly, the chair scraping sharply on stone. He moved behind Steven, looming over the kneeling man. His hand tangled roughly in Steven’s hair, yanking his head back. Steven gasped, lips wet and swollen, chin slick with spit and cum. Tom’s inspects Harry’s hole—now glistening clean, the pink furl still visibly loose and trembling. A dark smile touched Tom’s lips. "Impressive job," he purred, his free hand stroking his own hard cock slowly. "But unfinished." He shoved Steven away.
Tom gripped Harry’s hips, fingers digging into the bruised flesh. Without warning, he slammed his thick cock back into Harry’s gaping hole—a brutal, unforgiving thrust that punched the air from Harry’s lungs. Harry screamed, back arching violently off the desk as Tom buried himself to the hilt, the sudden fullness a shock to his oversensitive channel. Tom didn’t pause. He withdrew almost completely, then pistoned forward again, setting a savage, hammering rhythm that rocked Harry’s entire body against the polished wood. *Slap-slap-slap.* The wet, meaty sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the study, punctuated by Harry’s ragged, high-pitched cries with each deep, jarring impact. Tom’s thrusts were relentless, driving into Harry’s prostate with brutal precision, reigniting the coil of pleasure-pain low in Harry’s belly despite his recent release.
Steven scrambled back on his knees, panting, eyes wide and fixed on the point where Tom’s cock disappeared again and again into Harry’s stretched, glistening hole. Tom’s molten gaze snapped to him, dark and commanding even as his hips never slowed. "Watch closely, Steven," Tom snarled, his voice rough with exertion and lust. He punctuated each word with a punishing thrust that made Harry sob. "See how he takes it? How greedy his hole is?" Harry whimpered, fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick wood. "You’ll also," Tom growled, grinding his hips in deep, claiming circles that drew a broken moan from Harry, "also be cleaning out the next load from his slutty hole."
He pulled almost all the way out, letting Steven see the pink, gaping furl clenching weakly around nothing before slamming back in to the hilt. Harry screamed, his cock jerking against his stomach, spilling a thin, useless dribble of cum. Steven’s mouth was going to be very busy in the hours to come.