AN: I wrote this in a few hours in a night time while trying to muster up the strength to finish the Jacob/Emmett story. First one-shot, hope it's alright.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: A pretty good hand job and a fine blow job, if I do say so myself.

It was cold in the boy's dormitory, it had barely broken the first month of winter, yet Harry found himself surrounded by three layers of pure wool blankets and still shivering with chattering teeth. Hermione had come into their dorm a few days earlier and cast a spell on his and Ron's blankets to make them warmer, but Harry hadn't remembered what it was and it had worn off since the previous night. As Hermione was likely to be asleep in the middle of the night, Harry didn't want to disturb her by asking for the spell again, especially because he should have remembered it.

So Harry lay in his bed with the company of a thousand little ice fairies dancing over his pale flesh. The woollen cocoon that enveloped his entire body – including around his head, leaving only his eyes and nose exposed – was letting in too much of the cold, and Harry was sick and tired of giving it extra chances.

The skinny boy dropped his legs over the edge of his four poster bed before drawing the curtains. He looked out of the window next to his bed, out at the millions of country stars that glistened down at the castle he and his friends resided in for school. He paused for a short moment, thinking about the darkness of the night sky before realising that it was much colder outside of the blankets than it was on the inside. So Harry continued with his plan, venturing to the fire side with one of the blanket in an attempt to keep warm for the night.

The stone steps were cold on his feet, he prayed evermore that the fire would produce enough warmth for a comfortable night's rest or he would return to his bed, still cold and uncomfortable, but also acquiring cold feet.

Upon reaching the common room Harry curled up in his blanket and sat in a plush arm chair that he had dragged close to the dying fire. The waning flames no longer danced like they had whilst everyone was present; now with only a single audience member the fire just hummed softly. Fortunately for Harry, the fire radiated warmth far enough for him to surrounded by conditions suitable for sleep.

The young man's eyes closed as he thought of the upright position he was in and how he would be in the morning; the tapping of moths hitting the window rhythmically soothed him into a slumber.


"Harry, wake up." A voice pushed its way into the sleepy man's dreams, forcing him to do as he was told. The first rays of light to enter his eyes were filled with a shining smile against a dark background, like the Cheshire cat disappearing into the night. "Seriously mate, you're in everyone else's way."

Dean Thomas was the epitome of the perfect partner; absolutely gorgeous with stunning physical features, made everyone laugh and had the nicest personality of all the men in Gryffindor house. When cheesy old ladies wrote novels about the 'tall, dark and handsome' male character, they were obviously writing about Dean.

Indecipherable murmurs emitted from Harry as Dean chuckled at his friend's morning-disorientation and assisted him standing and leading him to the staircase to the dorm. In a flash Harry was back in the common room where the rest of the boys from his dorm room were waiting for him to go to breakfast.

"Morning, sleepy head," Dean smiled brightly as he nudged Harry in the ribs with his elbow. The latter yawned deeply, trying to recover from his little sleep in. Harry wasn't used to sleeping late; he was usually woken up by Neville (a natural early bird) and then had a shower, got dress, then breakfast before his classes started. Due to his sleep in, Harry missed his shower and was barely dressed as he was still doing up his buttons as he met the other lads in the common room.

"Mornin'," Harry replied with another big yawn.

"Comfortable last night?"

"I guess. Warm at least."

"Yeah, well, when I woke you up you had fallen to the ground in front of the fire place."

"Really? I hadn't even noticed, this morning's a bit blurry so far," Harry said, shaking his head to try and achieve some clarity.

"'t's'alright, mate, it's only been ten minutes, not much to blur out." Dean laughed as he looked sideways at his friend. Harry glanced up at his taller friend who stepped aside, waiting for Harry to pass through the Fat Lady's Portrait first.


Harry arrived back at the Gryffindor common room at a quarter to eleven later that day. He had finished all his lessons before writing his potions essay non-stop in the library. Harry had missed dinner and had even been kicked out of the library for being there too late. After leaving the library at seven, Harry found an unlocked empty classroom where he forced himself to stay and finish his essay before he returned to the common room to find more distractions.

The common room was warm; again the fire stopped dancing and mellowed out into the ash, leaving the room with a pleasantly warm aura compared to the frosty winter stagnation of the corridors. Harry trudged up the stairs to his room where the four other boys appeared to be sleeping. Harry quietly removed his school uniform, put on his pyjamas (quickly as possible to stop the cold air from touching his already rock solid nipples) and drew back his bed's deep red hangings.

"Hm?" A sleep question came from the bed in Dean's direction.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," Harry whispered back, trying not to disturb anyone else further.

"Hm..." Dean mumbled back as he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Harry climbed into bed, resuming his cocoon position that, once again, provided no warmth. He cursed himself for not taking a moment to ask Hermione for the charm during classes that day; he'd have to remember when he was at breakfast.

After a few minutes of trying to get to sleep Harry sat up. Deciding he'd drop the pretence of waiting to see if he would warm up in his bed, Harry climbed out of his four-poster with his single blanket again before descending to the common room; the heat from the fire place was immediately noticeable.

Just as Harry was about to fall asleep, sitting in the same arm chair as the night before, he was interrupted by footsteps across the floor behind him.

Dean came into Harry's peripheral vision on his right as he dragged the other arm chair closer to the fire and sat down with his blanket.

"Sorry, did I wake you," Dean yawned, lifting his feet up off the ground and tucking them under his blanket.

"No, I was just getting to sleep."

"Well, I thought I might join you; seeing as though you had such a good night's sleep last night," Dean whispered with a smile as he leaned his head back and almost immediately fell asleep, characterised by the deep, yet slow breathing he emitted on a nightly basis.

Harry liked the sound of Dean sleeping; he never got a clear audio of him in the dorm with all the cross fires of snores and sniffling. Harry laid back and considered why Dean sleeping in particular. Besides the fact that Harry found Dean extremely attractive, it was also because of the consistency and steadiness of Dean's breathing; it was strong and confident, as much as breathing could be anyway.

Harry felt awkward doing so, nevertheless he angled himself so that he was facing the fire, giving his ears freedom to swim in the sounds of the darker boy sleeping. The steady pulse of air from Dean's lungs was like the moths from the previous night; the rising and falling of his chest is what eventually rocked Harry to sleep.


"Harry, wake up." This time, Harry heard no chattering in the background of shuffling of feet across the floor as he slept; this time the voice dragged Harry out of his slumber into a room that was quiet and empty.

"Uh...?" Harry was always confused in the mornings, especially upon first awakening.

"I thought I might wake you up at the normal time, give you a chance to shower like you normally do and get out of here before everyone else wakes up." Dean patted the waking boy on the back before walking off to the foot of the stairs and then disappearing into them.

Harry finished his morning routine by descending the flight of stairs, this time meeting only three of the four other boys as he wasn't the last one ready that morning. As Ron arrived for them to leave, Dean turned to Harry and confided, "Last night was a really good night's sleep. I'm thinking that arm chair is a good new bed for me if the winter keeps up like this... if that's alright with you for my intruding?" Dean quirked an eyebrow questioningly, waiting for Harry to give the 'OK' before giving the sigh of relief that he'd never have to have another sleepless night again.

"That's fine by me, I didn't even notice you were there," Harry smiled as the little white lie snaked out of his mouth. Harry knew he was there, that's what helped him dream about dark dominating men all night.


For the second night in a row, Harry dragged himself into the common room at some ungodly hour because of a Potions essay. Snape had held Harry back at the end of class to tell him hour terribly his essay was written – the smudges were apparent everywhere – and how dare he expect his teacher to try and decipher such dribble. Harry had been so preoccupied in trying to get all the information in there in one afternoon he hadn't bothered with how neat it was going to turn out. Upon telling Snape this little bit of information – leaving out the detail of when he did the essay – Snape had told him he could care less what Harry's excuse was, he was to hand it in by their next lesson; the very next day.

So Harry had followed the same routine as the night before, trying to finish the essay. Luckily for him he already had all the information, all he had to do was just copy it down. The problem was that he had to rewrite it neatly, which took extra time, and also had to try and decipher his own hand writing, so Snape had a point.

Upon entering the common room, Harry saw a figure cloaked in a blanket sitting in front of the fire. The head turned around as Harry made his entrance.

"Harry?" Dean questioned, wondering where he had been all this time but never thinking that it had been him entering this late at night.

"Yeah, sorry if I woke you up..." Harry trailed off, too tired to think. It had been bad enough with one late night making his day full of yawns and distractions, but the second night was going to kill him; he was not looking forward to the next day.

"Nah, it's cool man, I was just sitting here, I couldn't get to sleep just yet, I think I'm used to late nights because of all the sleepless ones." Dean's smile put a positive twist on every situation, including insomnia, apparently. "I already brought your blanket down for you. If it's alright I was using it with mine because the nights are getting colder."

"Yeah that's fine," Harry slurred as he ascended to get changed before returning to his friend who was waiting for him. Harry brought his two other blankets, allowing Dean to have two as well as two for himself.

Harry curled himself up in his double-layered blanket-shell and sat down next to Dean, Harry had to sit quite close to ensure he was exposed to the fire... or so he told himself.

"Did you finish you Potion's essay?" Dean inquired curiously.

"Yeah, it still looks like hell, but it's not as if I can just magically make my hand writing more legible, he's going to have to deal with it this time," Harry replied with a bite of anger in his voice.

Dean understood the anger so he didn't take offense to it, not like any one should, so he simply stated, "I think I'm getting tired now that your here with your stories." Dean yawned to add effect before laughing along with Harry and standing up to move to his arm chair.

"Well, good night then," Harry replied, standing opposite Dean, the brightest smile plastered on the darker boy's face, "I'll see you in the morning I guess." And with that, both the boy's resumed their positions in their make-shift beds in front of the fire place, mere meters from the other male.


Just like the first morning, Harry woke up on the floor; unlike the second morning, Harry was the first one awake; and completely knew to Harry, he awoke mere inches from Dean's face. From Harry's sideways perspective (that being him lying on the ground), Dean appeared to be completely upside down, due to the fact that Dean was lying on his side in the opposite direction.

His calm face was rounder than during the days, it appeared. Harry could no longer make out the high cheek bones of the strong jaw line; for all Harry could know they could have disappeared off the face of the earth. But in that moment, all Harry could see were the small creases between Dean's eyebrows as they furrowed together, his eyes moving beneath their lids as Dean dreamt of anything and everything he wanted to, and, lastly, two plump lips stuck slightly apart with two shiny front teeth resting on the lower lip.

The two chocolate-coloured beauties were beckoning Harry to kiss them, they were calling for him to place his lips on them. They looked like a fresh peach in the summer time, all Harry wanted to do was sink his teeth into them and taste the sweet juices that the soft skin withheld.

Harry whispered to Dean to wake up after a few minutes of lying still to observe the sleeping boy, letting his slow breathing wash over Harry's face. Dean's eyes opened slowly as they began to focus on what was around him. Harry remembered the first morning how Dean had woken him and he was the first thing Harry saw. Dean could have kissed Harry in that moment and Harry wouldn't have even realised. The tempting thought gave Harry an idea that took all of his power to quell.

"Morning Harry," Dean whispered, again with a smile.

"Morning Dean," Harry replied, with a smile he hoped was as gorgeous as Dean's.


Wednesday went smoothly and allowed Harry to have dinner for the first time in two nights. After finishing his work in the library, all Harry wanted to do was leave to go to the common room and finally get to bed early for once or at least on time. But Hermione convinced Harry to stay as he knew it was the right thing to do, to continue to study and get some more work done that wasn't due for another few days, "but couldn't it wait until a few days minus one?" Harry had tried to plea, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it; she could not understand why someone would purposely leave their homework until the very last minute every single time.

So eventually untangling himself from Hermione's stick grasp – bargaining with her that he'd finish the rest of his History of Magic essay the next day – Harry made his way to the common room at half past eight, about the time when people slowly retired to their dorms, either too tired to carry on, or because they could continue in the warmth of their room.

Hermione entered the dorm shortly after Harry. "Has the charm on your blankets worn off yet Harry, I can help you recast it if you'd like?" Hermione inquired caringly.

"Thanks, Hermione, but I've found an alternative," Harry replied as Hermione nodded and made her way up to the girl's dormitory.

Harry was sitting in front of the fire within no time, waiting for Dean to walk through the door as he was obviously out due to his absence in the common room and the boy's dorm.

Dean walked in a few minutes later, fully clothed in his bed attire.

"Where were you dressed in that?" Harry asked, curiosity not waiting for Dean to fetch his blankets.

"I definitely didn't sneak into the prefect's bathroom, that's for sure," Dean gave Harry a devilish wink, knowing Harry wouldn't say anything but sharing the laugh nonetheless, "Well go on move over then." Dean grabbed the right side of Harry's blankets that he had wrapped around him and opened it up to sit next to Harry in the blankets.

Harry's heart beat quickly as he thought not only of Dean Thomas sitting so irresistibly close, but the thought of Dean Thomas naked in the middle of the prefect's bathroom. Harry looked sidelong at his friend, the warmth of his body was more than the fire could ever wish to provide.

"What?" Dean chuckled as he caught Harry looking at him, "I can't be bothered to get up those stairs, the hot water made me too tired for any physical exertions. Plus your blankets are way better than mine."

"We could have traded blankets if you asked, your blanket are probably better than mine."

"No, we couldn't trade, your blankets are only better because you're in them." Dean smiled at the fire as Harry blushed profusely.

Dean looked back into Harry's eyes that were shyly staring at the fire, trying not to make eye contact in case he embarrassed himself. "Hey, what's that?" Dean asked a little abruptly, causing Harry to turn toward Dean, trying to figure out what he was looking at. In the haste of the moment, Harry hadn't realised that it had been a ploy to get him to turn to face Dean.

Dean leant forward upon Harry turning, quickly, but gently, placing his lips upon Harry's before the shorter, pale boy had time to look away. Dean was dominant in the kiss, his lips not parting, just gently pressing against Harry's, but displacing his dominance by the way he decided that he would break the kiss.

Nothing but air left Harry's lungs, no sound came out with is. The whirring of air through his throat stopped when he opened his eyes a split second after the kiss was broken and looked into the golden chocolate orbs of Dean's eyes. His thick lips stretched into a smile, both boys were relieved that the occurrence had gone smoothly; a most romantic of all first kisses.

Harry opened his mouth to say something; luckily Dean took control because he couldn't think of what to say. Dean stopped Harry from talking by kissing him again. This time, Dean licked the parting between Harry's lips before he broke the kiss. The long trail of Dean's tongue across his lips caused Harry to take charge (a small amount) and stopped Dean from ending the kiss. He achieved this by gently biting on Dean's lower lip, just like he had wanted to that morning. Once he got Dean to stop, Harry sucked on Dean's lower lip, massaging the area he had bitten with his tongue, even though it left barely more than a slight dent.

When Harry let go, Dean put his arm around Harry, orienting them so they both looked into the fire; Harry leaning on Dean's shoulder and Dean resting his head on Harry's.


Once again, Harry was the first to wake, or so he thought. His eyes parted as he found himself lying on his side against Dean. He hand lay limp on Dean's chest, his legs bent and curved to the formation of Dean's side and Harry's head lay in the nook of Dean's shoulder. Harry lay there in that position for a few moments, his head rising and falling on top of Dean's chest.

Eventually Harry looked up to see Dean staring at the ceiling. Without even looking at Harry, Dean tightened his grip around Harry's back while his other arm searched for the hand on his chest to hold.

"I didn't want to wake you," Dean explained in a whisper, "you looked so peaceful and comfortable."

"Thanks, Dean, I am, but I think it's because of you that I'm so comfortable, the fire place doesn't warm me much these days..."

"Yeah?" Dean inflected quizzically.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, "I have another source of heat now, it's much warmer, and more attractive than the fire place."

"Shhh," Dean whispered, "you'll hurt its feelings." They both laughed quietly before kissing again; three times and Harry still felt like he had just been kissed for the first time.


The day went smoothly; although Harry felt tired from the nights of endless homework, he still smiled the entire day. He ate breakfast and lunch with Dean and even had a few classes with him. He held up his end of his bargain with Hermione by finishing his History of Magic essay, using Dean as motivation to get it done. Eventually Harry found himself alone in the common room, sitting in front of the fire with Dean in the arm chair behind him.

Harry turned around and crawled toward Dean sitting in the chair and stood up to perch himself on the arm of the chair.

"So –" Dean began but was interrupted by Harry's impatience, wanting too badly to kiss Dean. Dean deepened the kiss by forcing his tongue into Harry's mouth and weaving his hand into Harry's hair at the scruff of his neck.

So delirious was Harry at the progression that he leant into the kiss so far and fell on top of Dean. They both broke the kiss to laugh a Harry readjusted himself to be facing Dean, one leg on either side of his lap. Without realising he had achieved such a provocative position, Harry stared deeply into Dean's eyes and continued to kiss him.

At first Harry thought of what it would be like if he could feel Dean's nipples on his chest. The thought got him thinking about the actually position he was in and the fact that his cock was touching the cock of the handsome man he was now pashing.

Harry broke the kiss and attempted to remove himself from Dean's lap as he felt himself grow a little – the use of blood in this way didn't help with the light-headed feeling that Dean's kisses gave him. Unfortunately for Harry, Dean placed his hand on the small of Harry's back to stop him from leaving.

"Stay Harry, I want to kiss you all night," Den pleaded with the boy on his lap.

"I want to but I just need to get off for a second." Harry honestly couldn't think of anything more stupid to say, but at the same time couldn't think of anything at all to say.

"Aw please," Dean said in a joking baby tone as he tried to push Harry back onto his lap further. Although Harry remained generally off Dean's lap, Dean had successfully pushed him on far enough to feel the solidity that resided in his pants at that moment. "Oh," Dean said in a shocked, but excited tone, "it's cool, Harry, we all get them." Dean smiled before kissing Harry again. He broke the kiss to whisper, "we all get them in times like this." Before pushing Harry further onto his lap.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt his cock push against a solid mass in Dean's lap. Harry would have thought it was his companion's lower abs if it had not been for the previous comment. Harry continued to kiss Dean while battling with himself in what to do. His hand was already half way there, levitating in mid-air, waiting for him to just grab it. So he did.

Dean gasped as Harry moved ever so slightly back to allow enough room for Harry to put if hand on Dean's cock. While the kiss was interrupted, Harry took the opportunity to look down at the tent both of their cocks were making in their respective pants.

"Harry..." Dean gasped as Harry continued to squeeze the cock through the pyjama pants. Harry took a deep breath and decided he was ready to move ahead; it may have only been a day since they had been 'dating' but Harry lusted for Dean long before their first kiss.

Harry undid the button of Dean's pyjama pants with a 'pop' before peering into the dark depths, resting his forehead against Deans who was also staring at the action. Harry's hand tentatively ventured forward, in the abyss. Before too long, Harry's slender fingers came into contact with silky smooth and warm flesh.

"No underwear to bed?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, not since last night. I decided if I was going to get an erection while trying to get to sleep with you around, it may as well be unrestrained. Harry smiled sexily as he guided the pulsing cock out of the gap in the pyjamas bottoms.

The monster was heavy and took quite a bit of effort to pull out of its hiding cave. When it was exposed, Dean let out a sharp breath and looked into Harry's eyes. He quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'are you sure?' to which Harry answered with a kiss.

Between the two of them, Harry drew the cock upright, facing the both of them. It was dark, just like Dean, quite long, but most of all, it was thick. Harry gave Dean one last kiss before marching onward.

Harry pulled softly down on the cock, the soft skin drew back to reveal a slightly pinkish head of the cock. With the head open to the air, Dean sighed airily and leant back in the chair, his head resting backwards so that his face was looking up – eyes closed, too lost in what was happening.

As the pale boy's hand reached the base, he used his other hand to reach into the pyjama pants again to extract the balls that were still inside. Harry slowly pulled back up the shaft, making sure all the skin was loosened up before setting a steady pace.

Harry continued to pump up and down the shaft of the dark boy's cock. The length was immense compared to what Harry was used to stroking off in the showers on his own. Eventually he took his second hand from playing with the balls and placing it on the lower half of the shaft, using both hands to stimulate all areas of the cock. One had stroked the balls and the lower half, while the other stroked the top half and over the rim and tip of the head.

Soon Harry felt his hands not gliding so smoothly across the top off the head. Den continued to moan and pant slightly as Harry attempted to spit on the head. The first glob missed and the second wouldn't leave him mouth, so Harry slid back off Dean's laps so that he could hunch over enough to lick the head instead.

Just as Harry's lips touched the tip of his cock, Dean sucked in a large amount of air. So Harry attempted to lube up the whole cock, only making it to the base of the head before Dean lifted Harry's head off his dick.

Long panting followed the little adventure as Dean tried to slow down his breathing. Harry continued to gently rub the shaft of Dean's cock; he was now able to massage the rim of the head better due to the lubrication his mouth provided.

Eventually Dean calmed down enough to breath out, "sorry... it was... just so much..." then returned to laying back with his head on the back of the lounge, this time he also placed his hands on the back of his head.

With Dean's chest opened up, Harry slowly unbuttoned the dark boy's shirt, revealing deep groves between muscles. Just as Harry's mind had ran straight to a picture of his teeth sinking into Dean's juicy lips, it also showed Harry bitting softly into the smooth skin of the boy's chest.

Continuing to stroke gently – spitting into his free hand every now and again to reapply slickness to Dean's cock – Harry hunched over, trailing his nose straight down the centre dip between Dean's strong pectoral muscles. As if helping Harry to feel the groves, Dean inhaled deeply at the delicate touch Harry provided. His tongue nervously snaked its way out from between his lips to flick lightly on the very tip of Dean's slowly hardening nipples; the dark chocolate colour spots were like a fluorescent light to Harry's moth-eyes, irresistible.

"Harry..." Dean mumbled out as he exhaled slowly, Dean seemed to be focusing greatly on breathing steadily as Harry continued to have his way with the man he was sitting on.

More saliva was spat onto Dean's cock as Harry pressed on with his two-handed attack. His right hand rubbed over the ridge of the head causing Dean to breathe sharply each time Harry's four fingers glazed over tip of the dark brown meat.

Harry sucked Dean's nipple into his mouth, his teeth applied slight pressure on the tip, rubbing gently at the sensitive areas of this part of his body.

"God!" Dean twitched wildly in short bursts as Harry persisted with his onslaught; Dean would shout or whisper "Harry" or "That's it" or simply hum deeply to let Harry know he was hitting the spot.

Soon Dean began to fidget; he would move constantly, only slightly, as if trying to find the perfect position to prolong the pleasure. One minute Dean had his hands on Harry's head, next they were on his own, and then his dark fingers were digging their way into the arm of the chair, trying to dig up the answers of how to best handle the overloading pleasure-waves he was receiving.

Next second, Dean was standing up, causing Harry to fall to the floor, if it had not been for Dean holding him up to stand on his feet. While facing each other, Dean kissed Harry passionately on the lips; their mouths mingled together as Dean could taste the essence of the minor encounter Harry had had with his cock.

When Dean broke the kiss, he placed his hand on top of Harry's head, suggesting to Harry that he should pick up from where he left off. So Harry lowered himself to the ground, becoming eye level with the monster in front of him. Harry decided that he much preferred it from this angle; he could better appreciated the length to which it had grown.

Harry picked up where he left off, stroking from tip to base, using two hands to cover the vast area. Harry felt a gently pressure on the top of his head from where Dean's hand was placed, pushing Harry's head towards his cock.

"Do you want me to...?" Harry left the question open, hoping to hear Dean say it aloud.

"God yes!" Dean uttered through the tension starting to build in his stomach.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry pressed.

"I want you to suck m dick," Dean whispered.

To that, Harry inched forward and flicked his tongue out at the tip staring straight at him. The salt taste excited Harry and made Dean shiver, almost tipping at the knees.

"And...?" Harry encouraged.

"And swallow my whole cock." Harry licked Dean's cock again, but didn't place it in his mouth. "I want to see my dick disappear into your mouth," Dean moaned, he was starting to get the idea.

This time Harry licked from the base of Dean's cock right to the tip before placing the head in his mouth. Dean gasped loudly and shook violently at the knees. It took a lot of effort for Harry to put this much of Dean's log in his mouth, although it was only the head, it was large and filled up a huge amount of space in there.

"I want to feel the back of your throat with the tip of my cock." Harry massaged the head of Dean's member with his tongue, forcing the top of his head onto the roof of his mouth. Harry protected Dean from his teeth the best he could but found it difficult.

"I want to feel your throat close around my dick as you gag on its girth." Harry tired to push further down onto Dean's cock, but only made it a few centimetres past the ridge of his head before feeling his throat close over; he pulled it out before the feeling turned to vomit.

"Uh! Don't stop, Harry, you're so good." Harry put the cock back in his mouth causing Dean to hiss slowly as he tried to hold in as much air as possible. Harry swallowed a couple of times, using the saliva that was forming in his mouth from the meat that lay on his tongue, trying to ready himself for a difficult task.

The swishing motion in his mouth cause Dean to breath in sharply and deeply; Harry could see he was running out of time to fulfil Dean's wishes. Harry leant forward cautiously, rubbing his tongue on the underside of Dean's head where he knew it was sensitive. He had hit the spot because Dean was hissing louder and faster than he was before, but still steadily.

Just as he reached the same place as last time – a few centimetres passed the ridge – Harry felt his throat choke up, but he carried on, fighting through the feeling.

"Oh, Harry," Dean purred out in a deeply lustful voice, "you're good." Even kneeling in front of this dark bronze statue of a man, preoccupied with the largest hotdog eating contest in history, Harry still felt lucky to have Dean by the way he encouraged Harry even though he knew he wasn't doing that well.

Harry broke half way just as Dean began to twitch sporadically again, this time falling back onto the chair. Harry fell forward too as he was using Dean as support to hold himself up. From this position, when Harry looked up, he saw deep into the chocolate button drops of Dean's eyes and he stared back at harry; glazedly pining for release.

Harry's lips reached the base of Dean's cock as his nose dusted the strong lower abs in front his him, just above the elastic waist band of Dean's pyjama pants. Harry coughed slightly as he realised that Dean's cock was tickling deep inside his throat. Containing his coughing fit, Harry withdrew Dean's cock slowly, making the exit as good as the entrance by wanking off Dean with his free hands; one on his cock and the other massaging his thighs and balls.

"Harry... so good... again..." Dean panted as Harry followed the lead of Dean's hand pushing gently down on Harry's head. Harry picked up his own rhythm and quickly brought Den to a fidgeting mess; the boy tossed and turned, all the while keeping his hips completely still so that Harry could continue to pleasure him.

When Harry began to think of Dean as close, he was deep on his cock when he coughed causing Dean to moan. At that, Harry laughed and the vibration hummed over Dean's cock and shaft making him stop moaning and start breathing heavily. Before Harry Had time to pull out slightly, Dean was holding his head down on his cock and softly shouting, "Fuck yes, Harry! Just there!" His orgasm came in waves, washing through his mind and body, pin-pointing to the built up spot on the tip of his cock as he poured his seed directly into Harry's stomach. All Harry could do is cough as splutter as Dean held his head in place, fiercely thrusting his hips into Harry's mouth.

As Dean's cock slowly went limp and Harry recovered from his impromptu throat-bashing, Dean apologised, "sorry about that Harry, I didn't realise you couldn't breathe, I was lost."

Harry curled his fingers around the rapidly softening cock of the black man and licked the last few drops of cum of before winking, "maybe tomorrow night I'll feel the back of your throat."