(dedication – For Lidi, who had a yen for Krum/Harry)
It wasn't how he'd seen his Saturday night going.
If anyone had asked Harry Potter what he thought he'd be doing at roughly 11pm on a Saturday night, he'd like to have thought the answer would be far more exciting than stalking bloody Viktor Krum through the back alleys of Wizarding London.
The older boy had shown up unexpectedly, interrupting their party, hell-bent on finding Hermione, not a bunch of flowers in his hand oh no, but an entire journal of his deepest thoughts, his fondest imaginings of their reunion. Even by Harry's admittedly jaded standards, the former TriWizard Champion had rather blown Ron's pitiful attempts at Romance out the window with his more darkly passionate entrance.
Of course, none of it had matter, unfortunately for Krum, because Hermione, unlike so many other fickle members of her gender, was not so easily conquered by romance.
Ron, in his bumbling and frequently (if unconsciously) insulting way, had dared to fall in love with her, a bookworm, a know-all, an incessant nag against everything he'd ever wanted in a woman and it was only the knowledge (he'd practically screamed into her face) that she was quite simply the other half of his soul, that enabled him to put up with her.
Obviously, no woman in her right mind would be moved by such a declaration, yet Hermione (perhaps tainted by one too many foolhardy adventures with 'her' boys) had been quite simply swept off her feet.
That had been approximately four months before Harry had finally managed to defeat the Dark Lord and now, a bare month after the one-year anniversary of the Wizarding World's victory against Tyranny, they were celebrating their engagement.
Of course, that was when Krum had shown up.
No letters ahead, no fire-called warnings, not even a randomly muttered prediction of doom from that old bat Trelawney but then you would think that the infamous Trio would have learned to expect the unexpected by this point.
He'd arrived just before the official toasts were due to begin, only gathering that there was a party going on for some reason, managing to single out his most longed for Hermione from the crowd before whisking her to a secluded corner to whisper sweet words and yearnings to her.
He'd been at it for perhaps five minutes before the first drunken well-wisher had interrupted, then a further two before a few more staggering and happy souls had seen fit to slosh champagne in Herm's general direction.
Viktor had never been what people might call 'witty' or even that quick, but all his time spent in the company of great books and his own thoughts had granted him the gift of a deeply analytical mind and a keen intelligence. Of course, smothered by nerves and a long nurtured passionate regard it was not that shameful, really, that this intelligence failed to rear its head for at least those first few interruptions.
Slowly, sadly, realisation dawned, bright and cruel in the dimness of that poorly selected secluded corner.
He'd paled, slowly, and Harry had bitten his lip almost clean through at the expression of agony that flickered over the granite like features. It was gone and swiftly replaced by the older wizard's usual stolid expression but it was enough to twinge painfully on a similarly exposed nerve in the Boy Who Lived.
Harry had edged closer, swallowing the urge to point out something large and distracting out the window so that he could let Hermione slip away. Not that he wasn't sorry for Krum, he was, very much so, but it was Hermione's night, hers & Ron's and Harry just couldn't bear to see it swallowed up by pain and butchered dreams.
"Herm? I uhh, I think Ron was looking for you, he and his Mum are down by the buffet. I think it was something important?" And then he'd smiled, the bright and innocent smile of the Darling Hero no one could (dare) refuse, and further compounded his apparent sweetness by blinking his eyes slowly, precisely, knowing it gave him an oddly trustworthy little boy look.
Of course, Hermione saw through it in an instant, ruining the entire effect by gushing over-enthusiastically and with little to no believability that it must be 'that thing that Ron wanted her to tell his Mum that she probably shouldn't tell them about because it was just between her and Molly… once she'd told her'.
Krum's eyes had flickered briefly shut then, shuttering yet more pain within as he cleared his throat and smiled stiffly as the, for once, clumsy and inarticulate brunette excused herself, before hurrying away to her betrothed's side.
"So…?" Harry had begun brightly, only to have the taller man sigh heavily, turning heavy eyes upon him.
"I beg of you, HarryPotter, do not attempt to make idle conversation I… lack the stomach to endure it."
And then he simply strode out into the night.
Harry, for his part, would have let him go. He could respect the solitude that seemed so necessary when faced with the abrupt pain of rejection but even as he turned to slope carefully back to his darkened nook of choice, he'd seen Hermione and Ron, each staring in dismay towards the door as it swung shut behind the Bulgarian.
'I'm on it.' Harry had mouthed across the room, smiling wryly as he was, once again, required to save the day.
So what if he'd far rather lurk in a shadowed corner, smiling when necessary and toasting with the remnants of his fourth, fifth, tenth… glass of champagne? They were his best friends, it was their night and they deserved happiness without fear of interruption or incident.
So, out into the night it was then.
Barely pausing to Accio his 'Wizard's Attire: All-Weather-Wear' Robes (WAAWW was founded by a reclusive designer rumoured to have a squib cousin named 'Armani') Harry swiftly cast a snow-proof charm over his glasses before stepping out into the chill night air.
Squinting through the darkness, he spotted the former Durmstrang student's obvious bulk stalking away into the confined, twisting alleyways of Londontown and within seconds he was in hot pursuit, cursing the damned slippery soles on his prerequisite dress shoes.
"Krum!" He called, hoping he sounded authoritative versus nervous, hating how his voice had never really settled fully into the lower octaves. Puberty had never done much more than grant him a scant few more inches upward with long feet and fingers disproportionate to his diminutive form. Fortunately, this left him still blessed with a Seekers preferred slight build and natural agility. Where Krum had bloomed and blossomed from a scowling, hunched youth into a looming, dark hulk of a man, Harry was catching him quickly, on feet that soared and skidded over the icy streets with far less grace (though no less speed) than he used in the sky.
"Krum, hold up… Wait…!" His breath was swirling about him in clouds as it burst from him, the distance closing rapidly now as finally, the tall, dark man halted and turned, the length between them melting away as Harry slid and skidded, thudding heavily against Krum's chest.
"HarryPotter? What are you doing?" Krum was irritated, as though a pesky fly had swatted itself against his bulk, slamming large, heavy hands atop Harry's shoulders to steady the smaller man as he wrenched himself back upright.
"I, uh, that is… you left the party before I could say… Hi. That is, I mean, I've not seen you in… well, in a long time and I thought, well, I thought it would be nice to… catch up? Y'know? Have a talk and… and a drink, about what you've been up to? What have you been doing since you quit the Bulgarian team?"
He stood, panting as the other brunet glared quizzically down at him.
"A drink?" Krum finally spoke. "You followed me, with great speed, from the party of your closest friends because you wished to drink and have meaningless conversation with me?"
Harry blinked. "Yes?" He semi squeaked and the Bulgarian sneered, releasing him and stepping back a pace or two.
"You think me a fool, do you not HarryPotter? You think I do not see your pity from across the room, that I do not recognise this, your pursuit, for its real reason, its true purpose?" He stepped close again, near hissing into the quietly stunned Hero's face, his voice a heavy, over-precise pattern of harsh consonants and unfamiliar (though well learnt) words.
"You ask what I have done since I left my Quidditch team, thinking I must surely have found a new life, a new purpose and yet you cannot alter from your own path, ended though it may seem. Your… noble intentions HarryPotter, are as obvious as your pity." He sighed, his face abruptly taut with weariness as he lifted a hand to gently cradle his heavy brow before turning on his heel to walk away once more, his low voice a mere croak back past his immense shoulders. "Return to your celebrations, Hero. You may tell Hermione I was found to be… not as sad as to concern her any longer."
He seemed to step immediately into shadow, lost almost instantly to the darkness and Harry's breath seemed the only colour, white vapour, in the night between them.
"Viktor." He spoke clearly, voice like crystal, free of everything but truth. "I'm sorry… I, I know how you must feel."
Suddenly the brusqueness, the almost stoic civility were gone, replaced by the snarling furious beast Harry had only encountered once before, surrounded by evil and greenery so high you forgot how to be brave.
Harry's back hit the wall, the air forcibly expelled from his lungs with impact, thick, rough fingers twisted into his lapels as the taller man shook him vigorously, snarling down into his face.
"You know? YOU understand how I feel? You? You Could Not! How would HarryPotter, darling of the entire world with crowd upon crowd of willing fans fawning at his very feet, understand what it is that 'I' am feeling? You know nothing of my anguish, my isolation. You… you cannot help me Harry Potter. You are good, very good, better than I, it would seem, to try. But you cannot."
His voice wobbling perilously over the last few words, Krum released the former Gryffindor, stepping away hastily and bizarrely, Harry found himself stepping closer, closing the distance again, trembling and oddly drawn to the white and furious boy.
"You don't think I know isolation? You don't think I'm lonely? Viktor… all I have in my life, the only people I have left to me, my only family, are Ron and Hermione. And now they're together," he broke off, seeing the sudden twist of grief flash over the Bulgarian's face, and continued softly his hand now somehow resting on the chilled flesh of the taller mans arm, "now they're together, it's them, and me and where I've gained two of the happiest people on the world as my family, I've lost my greatest friend and… and…" His voice dropped to nearly a whisper, "...The only guy I ever… ever think I loved."
Silence reigned a moment before Viktor's eyes rose to Harry's flushed face and stopped there, surprised and focused on the shaking boy. "You… you and RonWeasley? You were…?" he stopped as Harry's eyes feel and hit the snow pooling at their feet.
"No," Harry said, voice heavy with remembered, if accepted, pain, "Ron and I were never… it was all me. All my want, my hope. It's always been Hermione for him, since before you ever met her, it was always going to be her."
He lifted a gaze not a little heavy with meaning to clash with Krum's now slightly vacant eyes, "And it was always going to be him, for her, Viktor. It is and always will be."
Viktor didn't so much as blink, merely swaying on the spot as he apparently digested Harry's words, the smaller brunet sighing gently, before reaching into his inner pockets for the enchanted flask within.
"It's Firewhisky," he offered lamely after taking an extensive swig himself from the silver vessel, waving the bevelled surface before the seeming lifeless eyes, the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes emblem proclaiming its Bottomless charms. "Here, take some… it'll warm you."
Slowly the large man's arm lifted from where it'd hung, listless at his side, the cold palm cradling the ornate flask gently as though it contained liquid more precious than mere alcohol, staring unblinkingly at it for a moment or so before near snatching it to his lips and taking a long, deep swallow.
Harry's eyes found themselves briefly moulded to the long line of Krum's throat as his Adams Apple bobbed above his open collar and tightly wound scarf, blinking quickly and fighting an odd blush before jerking his eyes back upwards.
"How long?" the brusque voice broke through Harry's abruptly scattered thoughts as he passed the flask back, the shorter man taking a moment to swig and consider, beyond pretending that he didn't understand Krum's meaning.
He lifted a shoulder lightly, dropping it back as his mouth twisted wryly. "Not as long as you've wanted Herm… not as long as Ron's wanted her and Her him," he stated clearly, sternly, fighting the pang at the loss of light in the older mans eyes, "But…" he shrugged again, wearily. "A long time…" he smiled quickly though it didn't reach his eyes. "Long enough." He concluded.
Krum nodded, slowly, almost sympathetically but his hand shook as he lifted it to take back the flask.
"She… I," The Bulgarian began in his thick accent, voice wavering before he cleared his throat roughly, "I… all the way here, Potter, every mile, every step I took was to bring me closer to her… her eyes, Potter, they drew me, across the seas."
"Not intentionally," Harry whispered, swallowing, "I know it hurts… Viktor. But her eyes, beautiful though they may be to you, are…. They're for Ron, only for him."
"I know this, HarryPotter!" the dark man ejaculated harshly, abruptly shaking from head to foot in one, large convulsive motion, "I know this… I… it is only that…" he blinked, slowly, voice gentler as he locked eyes with Harry, "Years… Harry… I have dreamed of her eyes, her mouth, her… her delicacy and gentleness… for Years." He shook his head sadly. "I am unsure that I can be, can feel, any other way… than this."
Harry felt one side of his lips lift, twisting skywards as his own pain quickly fizzed insistently just beneath the surface and so he smiled, tightly, briefly and was surprised to see the flare of… curiosity in the older mans eyes.
"You understand, yes? You have felt this, known this for RonWeasley?"
He didn't want to talk about it, had spent the last few years carefully squashing it, convincing himself to move on, find a different love, a man who would love him and not as a brother and to dig it all up again now would only cause heartache, he…
"Yeah… yes, I… I felt that."
Krum stepped closer, taking a quick swig once more from the flask before thrusting it back to Harry, eyes almost bright once more with ill concealed interest.
"What was it, Harry, what was it to hold your love and keep it, all this time…" His eyes fell suddenly, seeming abashed as Harry knocked back his own abrupt glug of alcohol, "I… I am rude, excuse me… only… I would… no, I am sorry, I should not have asked it, I…"
"His smile." Harry said softly. "It's… ok, Viktor. It's sort of nice to actually be able to say it, y'know?"
Krum nodded, half smiling, half grimacing. "Yes, I know this."
"And… and his laugh." The words burst out of Harry and he blushed as the grimace melted from the taller man's face, Krum stepping closer again, so they each leant a shoulder against the cold brick, facing each other with matching wry smiles.
"Yes." Krum said quietly, almost ardently, "And what else?"
Images, thoughts just tumbled over themselves in Harry's head and abruptly he found that he wanted to tell the great hulking, looming man before him.
"His lips… they always looked so, so firm and, and soft, y'know? Like they could just… like I could…" He blushed, eyes dropping to the vast expanse of cloth covered chest, "And his arms… I just thought, he's so much bigger than me I, I guess just wanted… I wanted him to…."
"You wanted to be kissed, and to be held by him."
Blood rushed, hot and heavy into Harry's cheeks and his eyes lurched up to lock with the Bulgarian's and, absurdly tongue-tied, he nodded slowly.
"What else?" Viktor's voice was soft, almost… hesitant?
"I… he… I…"
Krum stepped closer still. "Tell me… Harry."
"His… his smell, his scent, y'know? So warm and… and just 'normal', I I'm not making any sense but he… he always smelled like October to me, like woods and crisp clean air and… and staying inside, warm and safe…" His voice trailed off as a sudden stab of loss forced it's way past the sweet nostalgia and his eyes dropped, breath hitching strangely in his chest as he felt the former Seeker's hand press comfortingly against his for a moment.
"Yes." Viktor said simply, supportively.
"His hands." Harry whispered, "That's when I first knew I liked men, that I liked 'him'… I looked at girls hands and thought how weak they were, how small… how could I want to put myself, my heart, in hands so incapable of… of holding me?"
His voice now trembled ominously and he shook his head, appalled at his weakness, having ventured out to support the other man, not revisit his own long accepted woes.
"God… I'm sorry Viktor, I… this… I'm past this. I'm usually fine with it. I know he doesn't feel that way for me, I've accepted it."
Krum slowly tipped his head to one side, meeting Harry's own earnest gaze with an assessing stare. "You… you find you can embrace the possibility of… others, HarryPotter?"
Harry blinked, feeling suddenly off balance. "I… sure. I can, I mean… I loved him, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't or, or won't find love, a real love, just for me, just like you won't… I mean, you won't not find it either. They'll be married and one day you'll meet this nice girl with... with eyes you'll cross seas for again and… and… I I'll find someone, a man who'll make me feel safe and… and warm… and wanted and…"
"…Whole?" Viktor supplied huskily and heat burned beneath Harry's skin and he wet his lips, certain that the whisky had suddenly hit home, swaying gently under the fixed gaze.
"Yeah…" Harry near whimpered, his whisper a quick gust of alcohol heated breath between them, intermingling with Krum's as the Bulgarian's warm exhalations touched Harry's skin. "It'll be fine… perfect even."
When had Krum leaned so close? Or? Or was it he, Harry, who had moved further in?
"Perfect." Viktor agreed, voice seeming distant even as his eyes bored into Harry's from beneath sluggishly low lids.
"Yeah," the diminutive brunet murmured back, "And you won't be thinking about Herm's mouth anymore and I'll have moved on and we'll both be happy and… and… whole…" he breathed and then his lips were muffled, dragging softly beneath the larger mans.
He couldn't have said who had begun the kiss, only registering the sudden 'clunk' of the still charmed full flask dropping, discarded at his feet, his fingers now twisting into the front of the larger mans robes, murmuring anxiously into the abrupt embrace as the Bulgarian's arms crushed him against the broad wall of his chest.
Krum's mouth was hard, heavy almost, but despite the insistent pressure the lips themselves were like whisky soaked petals crushing themselves against Harry's own parted lips.
The Gryffindor whimpered, Viktor's tongue stabbing inward, demanding access to the slick heat of his mouth, dimly registering how unlike his prior amateurish fumblings this wild encounter was, writhing wantonly, surprising himself, as the former champion pushed him back against the bricks.
"Viktor…" he whispered, voice a shock of sudden clarity in their heat and alcohol induced bubble, the cold night air quickly seeping in with reality as Krum released him with a muttered oath, stepping hurriedly back to stare at him with a mixture of horror and… fascination?
They each held for a moment, chests heaving, panted breaths clouding the between them as Harry blinked and swallowed in consternation and Krum… stared at Harry's mouth.
"So soft." He rasped abruptly. "So warm… so… so hot HarryPotter…"
"I… Viktor, I… I didn't mean for this to… Oh…" He cut off, gasping softly as Krum stepped forward once more, a large palm cradling each side of his face, thumbs stroking from the edges of his mouth up over his cheekbones and brow-line as the dark man continued to stare down at Harry in some wonder, saying nothing, doing no more than invading his personal space for endless moments.
And then, "Tell me."
Gone was the former, gently inquisitive, crooning tone and in its place was a harsher, demanding bark of sound, an order, bursting from the Bulgarian as he now used his superior size to further press Harry into the cold wall at his back.
"T…tell you…?" Harry barely managed to stammer before his breath caught at the flash of white teeth, only faintly visible now with Krum's sizeable form blocking out the light.
"Tell me… the things you wished to do for him, your RonWeasley, the other men who have been with you, touched you…"
"I… I was never with Ron… and, and there's really been no-one else, I…"
"Uh, I… no-one, nothing serious, I mean, just one offs, y'know? That is…"
Harry wet his lips feverishly. His blood was pounding in his veins in a way it hadn't done since he'd defeated Voldemort but instead of bone-numbing terror he felt… excited?
"I…. I… it always started small… y'know? I I'd see them, in pubs, clubs, muggle bars and stuff, sometimes Wizards, sometimes not… and, and sometimes we'd, we'd just kiss, stay on the dance floor, or in a booth and make out, that is I mean kiss and touch... a lot… I, uhh…" his breath left him on a gentle moan as Viktor pressed his forehead against Harry's temple and licked a sudden hot stripe of heat over the corner of his mouth.
"And what else, HarryPotter… did you take them, suck them into that warm, sweet, pretty little mouth you have?"
Harry nearly convulsed at the Bulgarians words, his thickened tone letting his accent blur his voice, the harsher consonants clicking over his teeth, making Harry inexplicably long to trace the sound with his tongue-tip.
"I…" he gasped, "Yes… yes, I sucked them… drank them down, I… I wanted them, wanted them in my mouth, so much… so deep…"
With a frenzied growl, low and somehow potent, Viktor thrust his tongue back into Harry's willing mouth, the smaller brunet groaning, as much in approval as in shock when he felt one of the hands bracing his face drop away, pressing against his lower abdomen as Krum, jerked and pulled impatiently, first at his robes then the opening to his trousers.
"Your mouth, HarryPotter…" Viktor panted roughly, then the hand still cradling Harry's moved round to slide into his ink black hair, gently exerting pressure to guide his head, and subsequently his, body, downwards to where the Bulgarian's gleaming, rigid prick stood bobbing wildly in protest to the cold air surrounding it.
Harry swallowed, blinking at the visibly beating member now before his eyes, his knees pressing uncomfortably into the cold cobbles beneath him.
Krum's prick was thick, almost obscenely so, flushed a deep angry red and already there was a sheen of precome glistening where the foreskin had drawn back, head near purple and tilted directly at his lips.
He put out a hand to wrap as far as he could about the base, steadying the length even as (against his better judgement) he leaned in to lap and suckle eagerly at the broad, gleaming cockhead.
He moaned, partially at the almost forgotten taste of sticky precome coating his tongue and lips and also from frustration as he discovered his simply could not get the wide, domed end more than a few inches no matter how quickly he lapped and lubricated the length with his saliva.
He and Viktor groaned as one when the hand still in his hair began pulling and pushing his head, manoeuvring his mouth back and forth over as much of the length as he could take, the fat head scraping over his teeth as he tightened his lips, trying to suck down as much as possible, only to find himself yanked back off the delicious flesh, Viktor glaring with something like amusement from above.
"You must behave HarryPotter or I will forgo my manners and fuck your mouth not regarding your oxygen or comfort… Yes?"
Harry's hips bucked madly, surprising the younger brunet with the force of his reaction. "Oh, oh yes…" he whispered back, beseechingly, suddenly desperate to just feel full, possessed, just once, "Fuck my mouth Viktor… fuck me… I, I can't behave, can't be good right now…"
Viktor blinked slowly, observing the way Harry's pelvis ground in a circle, pressing up against nothing, so deep was his need, Harry's words echoing in his ears as a roaring in his blood made itself heard also.
"Fuck your mouth, HarryPotter?" He asked in all seriousness, voice low and urgent, "Or fuck You?"
Harry whimpered again, hand at the base of Viktor's cock squeezing and stroking in minute movements as he leant in, eyes fluttering closed as he let the slick head smear sticky pre-ejaculate across his cheek, lashes sweeping upwards as he shivered and nuzzled, eyes locked directly on the Bulgarians.
"Fuck me." He whispered unfalteringly.
The words were clear and decisive despite his hushed tone and he cried out gently as the same hand in his hair twisted and drew him back upwards, forced to relinquish his prize momentarily though his fingers reached down to stroke and squeeze at Krum's cock once more, seemingly ignoring the larger mans actions as he pulled and tore at Harry's clothing.
After a moment a stream of colourful foreign phrases streamed past his obsessive barriers and he reluctantly released the throbbing hardness to gently push Viktor back a step so that he might step out of his own trousers and boots, versus the larger man ripping them from him.
He stripped quickly, not only as deference to their highly ill chosen public venue but also to stay that vital step ahead of common sense. He left his outer robes and the clothing on his upper body intact, left stood shaking and hopelessly aroused before the older man, hands protectively placed before his erection as though the sight of it might change Krum's mind, make him realise Harry was male.
Viktor stepped close, eyes briefly scanning down over Harry's still Quidditch toned thighs, the long fingers cupped protectively over his eager cock, his own hands reaching out to lift the younger mans hands away, Harry babbling, quickly, nervously.
"I uhh, the thing is if you don't want to you don't have to, I mean I don't know if you've ever been with guys or anything but if you… uh have then if you do know a good lubing charm then, uhh that could be good because I don't, uhm I've never had anyone quite as… big… as you…in me… I… Ahhh..."
Viktor trailed the backs of his fingers up the length of Harry's twitching, leaking shaft, the cool skin somehow burning, branding his touch into the sensitive flesh.
"Sssshh Potter," he muttered thickly, "I will take care of you, I too learned many a thing during both Quidditch and the War." He pressed a fierce kiss, oddly gentle for all its heat, over the Gryffindor's surprised mouth, muttering thickly into his lips. "Put your hands on my shoulders and hold onto me tightly."
With seemingly no effort Krum lifted Harry up, the latter squeaking briefly as he registered this fact before murmuring approvingly into Viktor's mouth, wrapping long slim white thighs about the older mans still clothed hips.
He felt appalling bare, the motion of being lifted having hitched his shirt up over his belly, leaving him truly naked from his navel to his ankles where his good dress socks still kept his toes from turning blue, his now achingly hard cock pressing eagerly against Krum's as the thick length throbbed and leaked steadily, poking out through his fly.
Viktor pulled back from their now almost perpetually ongoing kiss, gasping for breath as pushed Harry firmly against the wall, disengaging from their embrace just far enough to lower a hand to deftly cradle his cock, moaning appreciatively at the contact before murmuring a deliciously sharp, vicious sounding charm that left his erection thickly coated in a slick, gleaming gel.
"Viktor…" Harry whispered, meaning to try for one last go at dissuading them both from their crazy course of action. "Please?"
"Please?" Viktor repeated roughly, face flushing with need and want as he surveyed the surprisingly delicate, pale form in his arms, licking his lips as he noted how Harry chewed and wet his own mouth raw with nerves, long, callused fingers positioning the now sopping head at Harry's cleft.
"Please… Fuck me…"
And Viktor smiled.
Harry was momentarily stunned, blown away by the sheer animal beauty of Krum actually displaying pleasure but before he could truly commit the sight to memory, Viktor rammed home and Harry threw his head back, hitting the cold bricks, and screamed.
He knew it should have hurt, he knew there was no way in hell, even if he'd let a thousand men fuck him, that Krum's extreme girth could have slid straight in like that, all the way to the root without splitting him wide open. Instead it felt as though he'd set off a million fireworks in his bowel, the (dark arts inspired, Harry decided) lubricant sizzling over his nerve endings and making it seem like every inch of flesh that Viktor's cock touched was alive with ecstasy.
The sounds coming out of Harry were animal, base noises of pleasure interspersed with the odd grunt or plea or demand that Viktor fuck him 'harder, deeper' and the slick, almost obscenely wet sound of Krum's cock pulling nearly all the way back out on each stroke before slamming back in and setting Harry's yelling in surprise and elation on every thrust.
"You wanted this, yes?" Viktor grunted, twisting a hand up under Harry's shirt to cruelly pluck and twist his nipples, hard. "You knew I would fuck you like this, knew I could not resist your sweetness, your pretty Hero's face with it's whore's mouth begging for my cock…" and all Harry could do was thrash and wail, too full up with the Bulgarian's cock to wonder if that really was why he'd followed him out into the night.
"Viktor…" he sobbed between near vicious stabbing past his lips as Krum tongue-fucked his mouth, "Please… please… come in me…. Please… I need it…"
And Krum growled, the hands clenching on his buttocks deliberately puling the flesh wide apart so the wed slapping sounds of his cock and balls ramming up against Harry's flesh were that much clearer.
"So sweet…." Viktor snarled, biting none too gently into Harry's lower lip, "Such a pretty little whore…. All for me, yes? Tell me, tell me HarryPotter who it is you think of now… fucking you, fucking your tight body, this hot little hole because it is NOT him, it is not now… it is only me… only me… my cock, my body, my mouth… my come…"
Harry buried his face in Viktor's neck and shook, unable to bear the battering of flesh into flesh, his raw, needy cock being scraped between their bodies, moaning near constantly as the former champions words washed over him.
"Yes… yes, Yours…" he cried, his mind a virtual blank but for the sensations consuming him, the place normally filled with pain & loneliness blotted out completely by the wild assault on his senses. "Your body, your mouth, your cock I… oh… oh… please I…. Ohhhhhh…"
At Harry's stuttered words, Viktor doubled his thrusts, literally slamming in and stretching the Gryffindor's abused hole so much he was actually pulling free and battering back in on each stroke and the added friction sent them each quickly spiralling into climax, Harry's throat raw as his last scream burst free at the sensation of Viktor's semen shooting against his over-sensitised inner walls, the lube fizzing heatedly as the hot ribbons of come spurted up inside him.
Harry's own come shot high, spattering over the Bulgarian's near immaculate robes, one extreme burst catching the underside of Krum's jaw where it seemed to sizzle against his flesh in contrast to the cold night air.
With an almost agonised moan they slid to the ground, Harry's legs still tightly locked about Krum's waist as the taller mans knees weakened, bearing them both gently downwards 'til he was kneeling, face buried in the smaller brunets throat, Harry still gasping for breath, head flung back, boneless in his satiation.
They sat like this for what felt like an agonised blend of seconds and days, the insistent cold burning their fevered skin yet each was too exhausted to move, cover up, get out of the chill night air.
Slowly, Harry's fingers tightened, realising their purchase on the Bulgarian's come splattered robes, slowly pulling himself upright with a groan as the blood rushed to and fro through his skull.
He blinked, noting Krum's sleepily watchful gaze on his face, the darker man having raised his face from its cradle at Harry's throat and the younger man shivered, abruptly all too aware of the hot come now trickling out onto rapidly cooling skin.
A large hand, with blunt tipped thick digits lifted up then, gentle for all its size and strength as Viktor trailed a fingertip over Harry's flushed cheek.
"You are cold." He whispered steadily, the large arms now tightening about Harry's chilled form. "Hold onto me, yes?"
And Harry, blinking and unquestioningly obedient for once, nodded and clung tightly to the man still inside him, breath catching as the sudden snap of apparation slammed all his cells into another place, complete with Krum all around and within him.
He gaped, noting that even his discarded clothes lay on the floor of what seemed to be (he assumed) Viktor's hotel room, whining softly, blushing at the sound, as Viktor's cock finally slid free, leaving him bereft and (he thought) now forced to rise on his shaky legs to step away.
Krum rose alongside him, his hands back on Harry before he'd had time to take more than a single step away.
"Come." He said simply, imperatively, gathering a much shocked and shaking Harry back up into his arms before depositing him on the bed.
"V…Viktor…" Harry began nervously, swallowing as the dark man stripped unselfconsciously then climbed into bed beside him, already making short work of removing Harry's remaining clothes. "…Viktor?"
"Yes." The Bulgarian said easily but his eyes dropped, low and shuttered as he lay back against the pillows, bare inches from Harry and the sudden need to escape, to negate the situation just seemed to evaporate from Harry's thoughts.
"Thankyou." He whispered and lay down, blushing once more at the shock of Viktor smiling.
It wasn't what either of them had wanted or expected… but by God, it'd do.