Title: Unlikely Places
Author: sdk
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Neville/Millicent, Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Light bondage, Voyeurism
Genre: PWP
Length/Word Count: One-shot, 1143 words
Notes: Written for j_lunatic as part of lameous_maximus (on LJ) in the summer of 2006. Special thanks to quite_grey for looking over this for me at the last minute. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
Summary: Based on the prompt: A canonically skinny character (e.g., Harry, Draco, Pansy) stumbles across Millicent and Neville (both of whom here are unequivocally fat, and powerfully attractive) going at it, and the spectacle is so stimulating that the voyeur wants to or actually does join in.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.


Unlikely Places


Prickled vines slither around her wrists, snaking down arms held high above her head as the moonlight flickers across defiant eyes. Quick and heavy, her breath rolls like a fog through the darkened greenhouse, and even the plants lean forward, inhaling her lust. She doesn’t make a sound as he touches her, so lightly, painting a line with his finger from her forehead down the wide bridge of her nose, over her parted lips, the slope of her strong chin, but she arches almost imperceptibly to his touch, her body clearly warring with her pride.

Harry isn’t sure how he got here. The fumbling journey beneath his invisibility cloak as he chased Neville to the greenhouse, fueled by a burning curiosity about the scrapes and bruises that decorate Neville’s neck and arms, about why he was returning to the common room well past curfew night after night, about where Neville was sneaking off to, and with whom--all of that seems so very far away in the face of the scene before him. Now all Harry knows is that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching this; he should turn and flee as quickly as he can without betraying his precious invisibility.

But the fact is, Harry can’t move.

He’s frozen as he stares at the profile of his friend touching so reverently the face of an enemy, the fat, ugly girl he hates for being a bully, for being a Slytherin. A mean sort of vindictiveness rises in Harry’s belly at her vulnerability; she’s on display, bound and naked for Neville to punish or please as he sees fit, and it almost scares Harry how much he wants to see this girl he hardly knows in pain. His trousers tighten as he imagines Neville twisting her nipples harshly, biting and slapping until her body is bruised with his torment, and he can’t help but watch and wait.

But Neville does no such thing.

Instead, Neville continues his soothing touch, dragging his finger lower to trace a jagged pink line that shoots down over the swell of her breast until it fades into dusky pebbled flesh. The very tip of his nail scrapes over her nipple, then he gives her a quick pinch, but she refuses to make a noise. Neville smiles. It’s a bare smile, secretive, just a slow pull of the lips, and his eyes soften, reminding Harry of when Neville talks about his plants, but ever more gentle than that, ever more private. Harry’s cock throbs, and his cheeks darken in shame.

But he doesn’t leave.

“Get on with it,” she says, averting her eyes, but Harry can almost hear her pulse pounding rapidly, and Neville grabs her chin, forcing her head up. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, and Harry can barely comprehend the simple intensity of their locked gazes, then Neville is kissing her, forcing his tongue between her lips, fingers fumbling down her side, and she struggles against the vines that hold her in place. Harry’s eyes follow the path of Neville’s hand to where their bellies press together, Neville’s swollen cock slipping up and down against her navel. Harry stifles a groan as he fumbles with his trousers, thrusting his hand in his pants just as franticly as their bodies grind against each other until he’s fisting his cock, but it’s not right; his fingers are too hard, too bony, and he tries to rub the fleshy part of his palm along the underside of his cock, but it’s not enough. He wants to be trapped, rubbing between Neville’s cock and Millicent’s flesh, and this time he can’t stop the low growl that emanates from the back of his throat, but Neville moans just then, and Harry’s brief loss of control goes unnoticed.

“I win,” she whispers, and Neville laughs, actually laughs. Harry stills his fingers as he takes in the excited gleam in Neville’s eye, more confident than Harry’s ever known him to be. Millicent whispers again, “You know what I want.”

Harry gulps, and tightens his hand around his cock again, pulling as roughly as he can within the small confines of his pants until he can’t take it anymore, and lets them drop with his trousers to the dirty green house floor just as Neville kisses his way down between Millicent’s breasts, his face hidden as his fingers stumble over her nipple.

“Harder—” she commands, her breathing laced with harsh bursts of sound, and Neville obeys, wrapping his lips around one large nipple.

“Yes—Longbottom—suck it,” she demands, but her voice is growing breathier, and Harry is distracted for the first time by Neville’s round arse as he awkwardly bends over to better attend to Millicent’s breasts with a determination Harry hasn’t seen outside of DA meetings and Herbology classes. Shifting to get a better look without taking his hand off his cock, Harry stares at the breadth of creamy skin, dimpled cheeks with a dark crevice running down the center; he wants to grab Neville’s hips and shove his cock along that dip, and squeeze and squeeze until he’s immersed in that spongy flesh.

Neville sinks lower, licking down her belly, and Millicent whines in protest until he’s pushing her legs apart, running the flat of his tongue beneath the swell of her stomach, just above dark tangled curls. She tugs harder on her restraints and suddenly they break; her hands fly to his hair, shoving his head down between her thighs and Neville groans, his cock bobbing appreciatively.

Tugging harder on his own cock, Harry stumbles a few steps closer; he wants to know exactly what Neville is doing, but all he can see is dark, messy hair shoved between expansive thighs. He wonders what it would be like to be trapped there, licking until she’s satisfied, wonders if her skin would be like bread filling his mouth, wonders if it would be like gorging himself at the Halloween feast. But he can’t think beyond that, because his cock is aching, demanding that he speed up as Neville’s slurping and Millicent’s heavy pants echo in his ears. Harry tightens his fist and he pulls and pulls, fighting to not make a sound, and Millicent’s moans grow louder, more erratic, laced with “Yes—God—Longbottom—yes—” Her eyes fly open and Harry comes hard, spattering pearls of white all over his hand and the inside of his cloak.

Harry stares at Millicent while his cock softens in his hand; her eyes flutter closed, a deep pink flushes her cheeks, and her face, though hard and square still, is somehow peaceful, glowing, but it only lasts a moment, then returns to an even gaze as Neville rises to his feet.

“My turn,” Neville whispers, licking his lips. Harry’s cock twitches, and begins to swell again.

--Fin--








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