Please refer to Part I for the disclaimer section.



--

Harry gasped, relieved that Blaise had pulled away his hand. He relaxed a bit as his arse squeezed around the remaining three fingers. Only to tense up once more at the realisation that Blaise was adding more.

Harry gripped the side of the tub and spread his legs as wide as he could reflexively before his squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth against the white explosions occurring in his head. He was vaguely aware that the word "god" was being expelled with every breath that waged war with his constricting lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind Harry was aware that Blaise's entire hand was in his arse and...

Harry wanted to shout when the hand closed but couldn't quite manage it. His hands tore pointlessly along the tile, trying to find something onto which he might cling-to pull himself away or to keep himself in place, though he couldn't be certain which. He was going to die. That was the only thing he could be sure about. This would surely kill him.

And yet...

As he felt his arse give in to the enormous intrusion, the ringing in his ears let up, the violent pounding of his heart slowed to the pace of a frightened mouse and he was able to feel something other than pain. A slight tickle of desire. Of need.

His cock was now impossibly hard. Harry gave the organ an experimental stroke which was enough to send a violent shudder up his spine, erupting from his mouth as a strangled groan. He moved his hand over it again and again until his entire existence seemed to depend upon that movement. He felt the fist in his arse stir and stroke him from the inside.

It took him a moment to realise that it was he who was moving.

--

Blaise wondered if Harry wasn't going to hyperventilate, then he realized it was he who was breathing so loudly. Fixated on the fist he kept steady and still inside Harry's arse, Blaise shifted slightly and caressed his cock along the length of Harry's glistening thigh. 'Now, doesn't that feel good?' he coaxed, squirming the fingers he held in a fist and brushing their knuckles against the tiny pleasure gland nestled within repeatedly. He covered Harry's hand over Harry's cock with his free hand and began to pump in unison, all the while rubbing his renewed erection against the boy's thigh.

He was still debating whether or not he would fuck that stretched arse with his cock when Harry *moved*, and Blaise stopped breathing. The sight of this boy so lost to this newfound pleasure was too much. Blaise dropped his forehead against Harry's back and gently twisted his fist, fanning his knuckles against Harry's prostate before rotating back, and over and over again.

'Come, Harry,' he breathed brokenly. 'I want to hear my little slut scream for me,' he groaned, grazing his teeth against Harry's slick back.

--

Suspended as he was in a continuous state of ecstasy, Harry couldn't see how it would be possible to 'climax.' His entire body was taut, constricted into one giant tense muscle which centred on those knobby knuckles massaging his prostate. Harry couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't even hold himself up anymore, he realised as he once again slumped onto the tiles, pressing his forehead into the coolness while continuing to fuck himself on that fist.

Driven by some unknown source of power, his own fist began pumping his cock urgently, needed to end the sensation. Harry thought maybe it was some innate survival instinct that powered the hand whose rhythms contrasted starkly with the slow careful movements of his hips. Incoherent curses rose to Harry's lips and poured forth as freely as the tears from Harry's eyes. He was approaching the edge. All the tightness in his body was funnelling down like a whirlpool, draining into his balls until there just could be no more.

Harry felt his arse bear down on the fist and he screamed as his entire body turned itself inside out through his cock. Harry crushed his face into the floor as wave after wave of agonizing pleasure thrashed through him for what seemed to be an eternity. He was certain he would go mad.

When he was able to take a breath again, Harry rolled his head to the side while he panted. He didn't notice the blood dripping from his nose. He probably wouldn't have cared even if he had.

--

Blaise caressed his hand down Harry's back, his palm slipping along sweat and flesh as he smirked, his breathing erratic. He hadn't come. Not yet. Waiting ... and not disappointed when the little cub surrendered to his ecstasy.

He suddenly understood why this boy was so popular in school, and not just because of the scar that marked his forehead. He radiated a sensual beauty, so fierce and abandoned that Blaise wondered why he hadn't seen it before. He allowed the luxury of a momentary possessive urge, curling his arm around Harry's waist as he slowly relaxed his hand and extracted it from the still-spasming arse.

Stretched as he was, that previously tight hole was now gaping uselessly around a phantom size, and Blaise sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and straightened up, unsure if he could sustain his own weight. Wrapping his hand tenderly over one of Harry's jutting hips, Blaise fisted his cock and came after a few strokes, aiming his seed at the used arse and lubricating his way for a few more thrusts of his softening organ into Harry's body.

He slumped forward, pressing the length of his body along Harry's back, his hands caressing almost absently. 'Gods, you're just--' Blaise choked on his words and tried again with a more steady voice, 'You're beautiful.'

--

Harry had never felt so wonderfully debauched in all his life.

He relaxed under that heavy weight pressing over him and smiled lazily at the boy's breathy compliments. He vaguely wondered if the contracting spell he normally worked on himself after sex would be enough to return the muscles of his arse to their proper working condition. He couldn't imagine ever feeling normal again.

Through the pain still pulsing through his exhausted body, Harry became aware of a different sort of pain-a bone grinding pain of his kneecaps meeting the porcelain tub. "Ouch," he managed to say. That pretty much defined his entire state of being.

He slid out from under the boy and turned to sit, still rather painfully against the side of the tub. He urged Blaise to join him, wrapping an arm around the boy's surprisingly small figure. He could taste the blood dripping down the back of his throat and brought a handful of water up to wash off any trace of the stuff from his face. He thought maybe next time it might be a good idea to bring a pillow to shove his face into if something the size of England was going to be rammed up his arse.

"Next time," he decided out loud, "You get to be my slut."

He leaned in to kiss the other boy's neck.

--

Blaise settled more comfortably alongside Harry and sighed, his body undergoing their own light aches as he shifted into place under the other boy's arm. Blaise wasn't at all uncomfortable or ashamed to be getting so intimate with a Gryffindor. He was one of very few Slytherins who couldn't be bothered by all the pure blood nonsense and inter-house competition his fellow mates were so fond of.

'I'm afraid you'll have to teach me, Harry,' Blaise demurred with a contrasting smirk. He craned his neck and sighed lazily at the attention Harry gave it with his mouth. 'And I'm willing to learn. How ever long it takes.'

Blaise intended to advertise himself as a very slow learner.

END