“I’m sore,” Tom hissed, disgruntled. Perhaps he should have expected it, but he had never been the ‘bottom’ in sex before. He hadn’t considered the repercussions the previous evenings delightful activities could have on his competitive scoring.
And Harry did not even seem concerned.
“Ah,” the man said. “I have something that will help—give me a mo.”
But Harry did not pull out his wand as Tom expected. Instead, he held out his palm expectantly and a moment later a small, stout jar flew into it.
Harry could do wandless magic. Wandless and wordless—Tom knew he wasn’t the only one, but it was rare. Powerful.
He unscrewed the lid, settling between Tom’s legs like he belonged there. “Open for me?”
Tom shot him a derisive look, but Harry only held his gaze calmly until he opened his legs and lifted. He winced as the position pulled a spark of pain up his spine, and Harry hummed, eyes dark on his swollen hole.
“This is going to take your pain,” Harry said, covering his fingers in the salve, and it was all too obvious what he was planning to do. “Tilt your hips—yes, beautiful.”
A slick finger drew around his hole several times, coating it thoroughly. After a moment of the teasing sensation, Tom huffed and pressed into Harry’s hand. The salve was leaving a soft tingle in its wake.
“I’m getting there,” Harry said, but pressed in anyway. Tom’s breath hitched as two fingers were quickly introduced. He was still a bit loose from the night before, and there was no pain at the sudden intrusion, but it still felt decidedly odd.
Harry leaned over Tom, lips ghosting against his cheekbone.
“That’s it, just let it happen. We wouldn’t want you tight for competition.” Harry breathed into his ear. Tom shivered, biting down a moan when long fingers hit that delightful spot inside of him.
“More,” Tom hissed, pressing down.
“That would be counterproductive,” Harry chided, green eyes burning into his. “If I stretch you it might cause soreness.”
“Harry,” Tom snarled, shaking helplessly when a long finger rubbed against his prostate ruthlessly. “Come on, more , you can’t—”
Harry chuckled huskily and pecked his neck before pulling back. Tom groaned in discontent but Harry’s fingers didn’t leave him. Rather, they went back to barely grazing his prostate. The light, tingling sensation of the ointment had faded. He could still feel pleasure, but the soreness had vanished, either healed or numbed.
And then there was Harry’s mouth, hot and wet and tight on Tom’s cock.
Tom moaned openly, back arching to try and get closer to the mind-blowing sensation. Harry hummed around him, then used his other hand to hold Tom in place. Still, pinned, helpless.
Tom could escape if he wanted to. He had his magic, always eager for his call. But he didn’t want this to stop. Something about being pinned down by Harry was impossibly erotic.
It only took clever fingers pressing back against his prostate for Tom to come. “Harry!”
Harry swallowed around him, taking all he had to give even as his fingers moved away from Tom’s prostate, careful not to overstimulate him.
Tom was left panting, sweat prickling at his skin, head lolling to watch as Harry pulled off of him with a wet sound and licked his lips. “Merlin,” he murmured, when Harry pressed a kiss to his trembling abdomen. “You’re so…”
Harry grinned up at him, soft and bright. “Mmm. I think I like the taste of you on my tongue, darling. Feeling better?”
Tom laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had the urge. Harry was incessantly charming, on top of everything else. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that Tom was developing some sort of fondness for him. “Yes, Harry,” he said. “I’ll be happy to let you loosen me up before each competition.”
“Mmm.” Harry’s tongue peeked out, wetting his lips. “I wouldn’t mind licking you open.”
Tom hissed. His cock twitched, as if interested. Harry smirked and pressed a brief kiss to it, which sent a shiver up Tom’s spine, before climbing off of him.
“Later. We need to get you breakfast before the warm up.”
Tom frowned. “What about you?”
“I don’t need you to get me off,” Harry said, weaving a hand through Tom’s hair to push it back into place. “I need you to win.”
He leaned in, giving Tom one last kiss, hot and heavy.
Tom caught his chin before he pulled away, dark eyes intent. “What if I want to?”
Swollen lips quirked in a devious smirk. “I guess you’ll have to earn it, Riddle.”
A chill shot up Tom’s spine. He let go of Harry’s chin, watching him sort himself with hungry eyes.
Later, then. His victory was hardly in doubt.