Feminisation, rough sex, age disparityWord Count:
Harry wasn’t entirely sure, before, how he wanted this evening to unfold. When he’d been preparing for this; when he’d been out in the corridor, hovering uncertainly, he hadn’t known. He’d been up for anything except Sirius laughing at him for his girls’ clothing. Author's Notes:
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Harry hesitates before pushing the door open. He feels… stupid. Uncomfortable. Completely ridiculous. His fingers twist in the hem of his skirt, pulling the fabric tight across his stockinged thighs. The stockings had been the worst: he’d had to shave his legs, and he’d put his fingers through the sheer material twice before managing to get them on – “reparo” was a truly wonderful spell – and they feel odd. They’re silky and soft, and the straps that attach them to his garter belt dig into his arse as he moves.
He shifts awkwardly, one hand on the doorknob. His feet are aching already, and he’s only walked down the corridor with the portraits of Sirius’ ancestors muttering their insulting commentary in his wake. He stops tugging at his skirt and smoothes it out instead. He straightens his shoulders. The silk of his camisole brushes over his nipples and raises goose-bumps on his arms and neck. As uncomfortable as he feels, it doesn’t stop his cock from twitching. The lace thong he’s wearing barely cover his erection, and they’re clinging damp to the pre-cum leaking from the head.
He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.
Sirius is sprawled on their bed in his pyjama bottoms, his long hair is still damp from his earlier shower and his reading glasses are perched on his nose. He lowers his book as Harry enters, and Harry sees the exact moment his outfit registers in his godfather’s mind. Grey eyes widen and Sirius’ jaw drops; his book tumbles from his hands onto his lap. Harry bites his lip. He steps forward, balancing awkwardly on his heels – they pinch at his toes, but they’re worth it for the way they make his hips sway as he walks. Sirius is staring at him, his dark gaze locked on the hem of his skirt. Harry plucks at it, the nervous gesture making it ride up to reveal the lace trim of his stockings.
The book tumbles to the floor as his godfather surges to his feet. He meets Harry halfway, stopping his slow progress across the room and crowding Harry up against the wall instead. He brackets Harry in, pressing his hands flat to the wall on either side of his head, and leaning down. His lips brush Harry’s forehead over his faded scar, his cheeks, his nose. Harry tilts his face up, parting his lips with a soft whisper – “please.” He places his hands on Sirius’ hips and draws him closer until he can feel his godfather’s cock hard against his belly.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Sirius’ pants and tugs. They come down easily, and as soon as Sirius’ cock is free, Harry wraps his fingers around him. He pumps him slowly, revelling in the expression on Sirius’ face and the dark flush spreading over his cheeks as he groans.
“What do you want?” Sirius asks. He lifts one of his hands to caress Harry’s face, dipping his thumb into Harry’s mouth and pressing gently down on his teeth. Harry closes his lips automatically, sucking the long digit deeper. “Want me to fuck your pretty mouth, baby? Or,” – his other hand shifts to Harry’s thigh, sliding up under his skirt. His fingers brush over Harry’s garters and his cock pulses in his grip – “do you want me in your arse?”
Harry lets Sirius’ thumb slide from his mouth. He wasn’t entirely sure, before, how he wanted this evening to unfold. When he’d been preparing for this; when he’d been out in the corridor, hovering uncertainly, he hadn’t known. He’d been up for anything except Sirius laughing at him for dressing up in girls’ clothing. Now that he’s here, however…
“Want you to fuck me,” he says, and he shifts his hips so that Sirius’ hand skims higher.
Sirius’ answering grin is more than a little wicked. “Good,” he says. He leans in and kisses him, hard – Harry opens his mouth willingly, letting Sirius’ tongue sweep in. He loves the way Sirius kisses him – it always feels like he’s trying to consume him. He whines into it, arching his back and letting Sirius hitch on of his legs up around his waist. He can feel Sirius exploring him. Long, thin fingers tracing over the lines of his lingerie where it digs into his flesh. Sirius doesn’t seem interested in stripping him at all; he simply tugs the lace back of Harry’s thong aside to circle the tip of one finger around his hole.
Their kiss breaks. Harry can feel Sirius grinning against his lips. “You shaved?” his godfather asks, and Harry squeezes his prick meaningfully to put a stop to any further teasing.
“I wanted to be thorough,” he says.
Sirius chuckles softly, a low, raw sound that sends shivers down Harry’s spine. “I like it,” he says.
Harry’s not entirely sure whether he’s being serious, but before he can open his mouth to ask, he feels a rush of magic against his skin and the finger probing at his hole is suddenly slick. The angle is awkward when Sirius presses it into him – not deep enough – but Sirius doesn’t seem to be in the mood to linger over foreplay. Sometimes, they have nights practically dedicated to it, with Sirius worshipping every inch of him; tonight, it seems, that isn’t going to happen. One finger is replaced by two, and then three – scissoring and twisting inside of him without giving him time to properly adjust. Harry’s panting by the time Sirius pulls his hand free with a slick noise; his head is resting on Sirius’ shoulder, and his godfather is muttering filth into his ear.
Sirius has always had a dirty mouth. The things he says during sex never fail to get Harry off – there’s something about being praised, something about the way Sirius’ posh accent curls around compliments about his arse and his cock, that makes Harry’s head spin. This…isn’t any different. Except, well, he’s never referred to Harry as a girl before.
He likes it.
He braces himself on Sirius’ shoulders as his godfather slicks himself. He moans when Sirius presses into him – the shallow fingering only serves to make the stretch ache more. Sirius hitches his leg up higher, pushing deeper, driving the air from Harry’s lungs as he bottoms out inside of him. Harry clutches him tighter, digging the heel of his stiletto into the plush curve of Sirius’ arse.
“Good girl,” Sirius whispers. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
Harry can’t answer – doesn’t think he could find words even if he wanted to – but he nods where his face is pressed into the crook of Sirius’ neck. He feels almost unbearably full. The position is making him tighter than usual; making Sirius feel even bigger. It’s so –
. It’s too much. It’s already too much, and they’ve only barely started.
He clings as Sirius starts to move. His godfather fucks him hard and fast and deep, one hand on Harry’s thigh, the other sliding over his body. He twists at Harry’s nipples through his camisole; scores red scratches over the soft flesh of Harry’s thighs and arse; bites at his shoulder and sucks hickeys onto his neck. By the time Sirius reaches between them to stroke his cock, Harry’s panting and breathless, sobbing his pleasure into the crook of Sirius’ neck as his godfather fucks him exactly
the way he needed him to.