all my lovers
NC-17. 12/11/2004.

The girl beneath him spasmed around his cock, as she twisted and writhed and murmured his name contentedly. Harry redoubled his efforts, driving into her, feeling his cock twitch and his balls tighten as his orgasm neared.

She was a new one; he'd have to memorize that voice, learn what she liked best, so she'd return.

He never took his eyes from the symbol painted on his headboard, the dips and swirls of the black ink as familiar as his own signature. This sigil was the key to winning, the key to it all, and it seemed that he'd spent years in this bed. He'd been keeping count of the hours, right up until his neck muscles finally stopped aching at the terrible angles he had to keep. Right up until he stopped minding that he could never look at their faces--never look at them at all. Only the sigil, black on mahogany, its delicate lines caressing him as much as all his lovers' hands combined.

He had learned to know them by touch and sound, all the regulars, the ones who came back and ever back again, sacrificing bits of themselves for the cause. There was Hermione, her skin smooth as butter; Colin, his hands nervous and wanting. Neville wept the first time Harry made him come, and try as he might he could never tell the twins (who never deigned to name themselves) apart until they came, when George yelled and Fred only whispered unintelligible praise. His godfather kissed his chin tenderly, and every time Harry wanted to cry, but of course he couldn't, because he needed to see. He took things with Ron slowly and made up for it with Draco, who wanted it to hurt and hurt bad.

It was almost ready, the energy in that beautiful mark almost more than it could contain. He felt it, as he fell over the edge and came deep inside her, this unnamed girl with calloused fingers and silk-soft fragrant hair, as he let himself drop his head onto her breasts and pant, exhausted, still staring upward. The sigil was full to the brim--so much power taken with none given back--and soon he would have to release it. He hoped he'd have the strength to do it. He hoped it worked.

He hoped he could live without it.

Fin.

Notes: Title is taken from a song by the same name by Black Tape for a Blue Girl.

send feedback