Title: Filth and Depravity
Author: eeyore9990
Characters/Pairings: Harry/various unnamed persons, Harry/statue
Rating: NCC-1701 (because I have to go with Star Trek to find a rating higher than NC-17)
Kinks/Themes Chosen: All of 'em (incest, paddling, pediophilia [arousal by or attraction to... statues], xenophilia [a sexual attraction to... strangers])
Other Warnings: glory hole smut, complete and utter filth
Word Count: ~1300
Summary/Description: Harry is completely beyond healing.
Author's Notes: Oh hi there, my daily_deviant posting date! Nice to see you're still capable of sneaking up on me like this. Reader beware: there is absolutely nothing redeeming about this filthy little fic.

A/N #2: The first scene is totally based on the absolutely delicious art, Eternal Glory, by doveypoo.

---

Harry knelt on the floor, unmindful of the sticky substance that nearly glued the knees of his denims to the thin carpeted surface. He couldn't concentrate on that at all when he had two handfuls of cock, one so close to orgasm it dripped irregular drops of come onto his wrist as he pulled and twisted.

His blood rushed through his veins as he brought the two men close and closer to orgasm. Their muffled groans coming from the other side of the wall filled him with equal parts lust and pride. He was the cause of their pleasure. For once, he was bringing something more than pain to another person, and that thought alone caused his flushed cock, bare through the opening of his denims, to jerk twice.

The bigger cock in his right hand came first, spurting over his hand to drip down his wrist and his arm. Harry leant forward, tugging a bit awkwardly on the cock in his left hand as he used his tongue to catch the last few bubbles of come from the cock in his right. The pounding on the wall, followed by a near-scream of pleasure, made Harry huff a laugh against the rapidly softening flesh. He dipped his fingers through the hole in the wall, giving the large bollocks a gentle caress before he released the man completely and gave his undivided attention to the remaining, unfulfilled cock.

A quick peek pegged the man as a blond, which cooled Harry's ardour somewhat--he couldn't help imagining every blond bloke who came through this place was Lucius Malfoy, which was quite the turn-off indeed--but Harry had a task to complete and wasn't about to leave a job undone at this late date. Opening his mouth, he breathed over the hot flesh of the cock, inhaling the musky scent of sex and male that came back to him. With his now-sticky right hand, he grasped the base of the cock, and replaced his left hand with his mouth. One moment of divine suction was all he was to get before the cock in his mouth swelled and then began to pulse, filling his mouth with the bitter saltiness of come. Harry moaned and swallowed it all down, barely keeping his left hand from wrapping around his own cock and pulling himself off.

---

Denims falling down around his thighs, Harry stepped from the privacy of the "Room of Glory" into the club proper, where men engaged in as many acts of depravity as could be dreamt. Ignoring the spontaneous orgies that had broken out, the men hanging from chains in the corner, and the ones simply splayed about, cocks out waiting to be sucked or fucked, Harry walked to one of the statues of Roman gods that lined one wall and pushed his denims down and off. He had eyes for no one but the form in front of him, its sculpted hair standing wild from its head, wide-set eyes narrowed against an unseen sun, full lips forever curved up in secret humour.

Harry, shirt dragging against his hard, sensitive cock, climbed bare-footed up the statue, setting his feet into the rests created by the statue's pose. On a whim, Harry straightened his legs, one hand going to the back of the statue's head to brace himself while the other reached down for his cock, dragging the damp tip across the statue's lips. When they were shiny with his precome, Harry shifted his feet until they slid through the arms, his body slithering down the front of the cold marble--such sensation against his over-heated cock--until his previously stretched and lubed arse came into contact with the Everlube that coated the hard--so fucking hard--stone cock that jutted proudly from the groin of the statue.

His thighs straining to hold his position, Harry looped his arms around the neck of the statue and leaned forward, licking at the come drying in flaky patches on the statue's lips. Wriggling his bum, Harry forced his body down until the head of the statue's cock breached his arse. The burning stretch was almost too much. Harry dropped his head to the crook of the statue's neck, shaking and shuddering as his body alternated between chills and flashes of heat.

When his body's response wasn't quite so overwhelming, Harry's tongue peeked out and traced over the ridge of sculpted bone that stood out along the statue's shoulder. Relaxing his hold, he sank lower, taking more of the unforgiving cock into him. When it glanced over his prostate, Harry coughed out a moan, choking on his own arousal and the one word that hovered on the tip of his tongue, aching to be freed. The one word he would not, could not, give voice to.

Finally his body came up flush against the body of the statue, and he could take no more of the cock that almost seemed to pulse inside of him. He knew it wasn't the cock, knew it with the one part of his mind not overwhelmed by lust, but he gave into the sensation anyway. Eyes falling closed, Harry simply rocked his body, moans falling freely from his mouth as he rode the statue, pleasure rising and cresting within him.

But he wouldn't come. Not yet.

Feeling the burning need for more, Harry began to lift his body and slam it back down, taking the cock so deep he felt he could taste the ramming of the body-warmed marble at the back of his throat.

"Yes, yes, God!" he shouted, head falling back on his shoulders as he rode the statue ever harder, releasing the iron-hard grip on his self-control as his orgasm cramped his belly, swelled his bollocks, and finally showed itself in the spurts of come that shot from the tip of his cock, landing in hot, wet stripes against the belly of the statue. Pleasure ruling out all sense, he shouted, "James!" and then, slumping forward, shame rising in him to choke out the bliss, he whispered, "Dad."

---

Harry stretched himself across her lap, tears already making tracks down his cheeks as shame--the hot shame of depravity--beat through him. Her hand smoothed over his arse, lifting one pert cheek then the next before dropping away. There was a pause, a moment in time where everything simply stopped, before a low hum in the air gave him a millisecond's warning.

The paddle didn't smack so much as pound. His whole body was thrust forward with the force of the blow, and Harry accepted it. It was his punishment, after all. The punishment he deserved for the filth that lived inside him. Over and over the paddle fell, until Harry's tears dried on his cheeks, his pain and grief too overwhelming for mere tears.

The hand cupped his cheek, turning his head toward her, and he sighed, miserable, as the paddle fell one last time. She helped him turn in her embrace, dark eyes wet with her own tears as she gently gathered him against her body, mindful of his abused arse.

"Let me heal you," she pleaded, not for the first time.

"You already have," he whispered brokenly, curling against her.