Swords

Harry could feel the thump of the bass before he heard the music, and that’s how he liked it. He shoved his mobile in his pocket and plugs in his ears as he walked past the long line waiting for their turn. The bouncer didn’t even nod as he let Harry pass by. Like he didn’t even see Harry. It might be possible Harry was breaking half a dozen subclauses in the Statue of Secrecy, but… Well…

What was a little law breaking compared to bliss.

It was one of those muggle theme nights again. Rainbow or glow stick or glitter, perhaps all three for the queers who had a mind to go hard and make their mark in the sea of throbbing bodies that passed for a dance floor. Harry dressed in stark black, because of course he did. It was his first night off in three weeks and he wasn’t going to shove glitter up his ass to have an experience.

He had bottom shelf whiskey for that. Two shots neat. Slammed back like it was going out of style. Harry whipped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes just starting to scan the room, when the exact thing he came for strutted up to the far end of the bar.

Harry’s arm froze in place as his eyes narrowed in on the tall, lean frame, half sinewy legs that stretched up, up, up to that pert little glitter covered ass. The glitter was everywhere. Streaked over skin, the tight fabric that clung to his bottom, the fishnet that passed for a shirt. Harry yanked his arm down before he was caught staring and used his suddenly mobile hand to catch the bartender's attention. A quick wave, a nod towards the gorgeous blond smearing the counter with blue body glitter as he leaned in looking for the bartender’s eye. Harry motioned for another shot, and to add the guy’s drink to his tab.

The long stretch of time when the bartender sauntered over to the glitter twink had Harry’s heart pounding in time to the bass. His stomach fluttered and he bit back his smile. This was the good part. The reason to fudge a concealment charm or two. A way to cut loose. His eyes flickered over to the other man just as the bartender nodded Harry’s way as he explained the bill had been paid.

Nah, this was the good part. When the unquestionably hot glitter bomb pixie man eye fucks Harry from across the bar, his tongue lapping at his lips as if already imaging the flavor of Harry’s skin.

The hot fuck slams back his own shot of decisively not bottom shelf booze, his left arm flashing a sleek leather strap, familiar in design and only mostly covering the glitter man’s inked inner arm. The grin he flashes Harry is all teeth, sharped edged and mischievous. Then he twirls round and struts off into the throng of dancers with no fucks to give about leaving Harry behind.

“Tough break,” the bartender may have said, but even with the spelled earplugs cancelling out most the music he still can’t quite hear anything.

Harry shrugs it away. More glitter twinks in the sea. One more shot for luck. Then fuck it, into the throng of drunk and drugged up muggles grinding each other for pleasure.

Bliss, mindless and numb, and so goddamn, enticingly hot.

Gone was the buttoned up auror detective protecting the peace. Tonight Harry was just a body that zinged with pleasure whenever a fit man plastered themselves around Harry’s bulk and swayed to the music in the club, or their head, or their heart. Harry swayed however they swayed, reciprocating handsy advances and gropes. He could do that with muggles. Enjoy how they objectified him, desired him, without worrying what scandal would get out in next morning’s edition of the Prophet.

Harry marveled in the sensation of skin and sweat. He let his head tilt back in pleasure as he swayed with the crowd. He blinked his eyes up at the ceiling, only to find there was something between him and the strobe lights above. Above the crowd, a caged platform hung from the ceiling, and in it danced the glitter twink. Blue and glistening and undulating like he knew his hips were meant to be thrusting into something. Someone. He arched up, stretching his body out against the arms that reached upwards so his hands could clasp a bar above him. Harry couldn’t help but lick his lips, imagining the feel of that taunt, lean body arching into him.

The man hoisted his body up, hanging just from the bars above, and twisted his legs up until he could rest his feet against the bars near his head. The cage swung gently, then harder when the man unbelievably began to twerk that damn glitter ass. Bloody hell, Harry wanted to grip it. Pull the cheeks apart. See if this wild man actually had shoved glitter up his ass for the experience. Didn’t glitter get fucking everywhere? Wouldn’t it end up there, given half a chance?

It was pushing the rules farther than Harry normally felt comfortable to cast disillusionment inside the actual club, but it got him past the bouncer to the VIP space where they offloaded the cage dancers and Harry had to be there. He bought the ridiculous VIP priced drinks and didn’t so much as look at the price, not even for the influencer brand water bottle when tap would have been fine.

Harry knew the water bottle was his ticket, though, because when the glitter twink dismounted his cage stage his eyes laser focused on the offer of hydration. The man accepted it before he looked up and saw it was Harry offering, Harry who he’d already shot down. He bared that same toothy grin as he took a step closer to Harry. Then another. He opened the water bottle then leaned the entirety of his sweat soaked body right up to the brink of Harry’s space, and made sure Harry had the perfect view of his bobbing throat as he chugged the fluid down.

Harry was parched. His throat was so, so dry. He wanted to drink up the glitter man in one go.

“Ahhhh,” the man softly moaned when he finally pulled his lips from the bottle. His eyes flickered to Harry’s. He batted his lashes, flirtatious and coy. “You take care of all the boys?”

There was an answer here. Something suave and bold. Only Harry let Hermione write his speeches for him and used alcohol and a hot body do the speaking for him when he pulled.

The man was waiting.

Harry licked his lips, nervous this time. Dumbstruck and desperate to touch this man’s skin. Forced to garble out words both too much and insufficient. “You’re the hottest glitter bomb I’ve ever seen.” The blond tilted his head back and laughed, all exposed throat and clavicle. The crisscross of netting barely an illusion of covered skin. Harry could see blond hair along his chest, soft and fuzzy and real.

Unfathomably, the glitter twink was amused with Harry. He pushed forward instead of pulling back, rubbing the blue along his body against what was once all-black clothing. Harry shuddered as the man rubbed the back of his arm along Harry’s jaw, covering over some other person’s glitter markings so Harry was all blue sparkles.

The man leaned in until his breath ghosted along Harry’s lips. “Shall we go back to yours?” He was posher than Harry expected a man who could twerk upside down in a cage could be, but it suited someone so effortlessly confident. Harry almost forgot his rule and said yes.

“How about yours?” Harry nearly growled, aching from the strain of not closing the distance between their two bodies because the glitter man clearly wasn’t done toying with him. His blood shouldn’t thrum from being toyed with. It shouldn’t make his cock ache.

The man huffed out a laugh, his face falling forward just long enough to brush his nose against Harry’s. “Fine, fine,” he lamented, but he didn’t drag Harry towards the exit and a waiting bed. He dragged him down a hall Harry had traveled many times before, back past the loos, and around the corner where people only went to do more than make out. Which, in this case, meant be thrown against a wall so a glitter twink could shove a hand down Harry’s pants.

Harry slammed his head against the wall and groaned, uncaring that there was now glitter on his prick. It would be everywhere. He’d have to spend a week washing it out of crevices, but what did that matter when that certain, demanding hand gripped him and pulled.

“How do you like it, baby?” the man whispered before nibbling at the shell of Harry’s ear.

“Unnggh,” was answer enough for the man to laugh again. He twisted his hand hard, too hard, hard enough to hurt, and when Harry should be outraged he just groaned out another, “urrggh!”

“Like that, baby?” the man crooned.

“Salavar, yeah, yes. Yes!” Only the man’s hand had stopped moving. Harry blinked open eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut to be met with a sharp gaze, gray as storm clouds.

The man pursed lips Harry hadn’t before realized were thin and dour. “Salavar,” he repeated.

Harry shifted his weight, awkward beneath the length of the glitter man’s body, his cock still gripped in the other man’s hand. “You’re wearing a wand holster,” Harry said, like it was an excuse to bring wizard words into muggle space.

There was that smile. All teeth. Like it would gnaw through Harry. “Do you know who I am?” His voice suddenly deep and sinister like there was a wrong answer to the question.

He was blue glitter, exploded over space and time and Harry’s genitals. He was long legs and a scrumptiously athletic ass. He was sharp cheekbones and hair Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t yet clutched at.

“No. Do you know me?”

This laugh rumbled, and Harry feared it was a precursor to the wrong answer. But what the man said was, “You’re a man with a cock who wants to get off,” and that shouldn’t have been so reassuring because this was exactly the sort of thing a wizarding publication would love to print. Devious sex in the back room of a queer club where the DMLE’s star auror didn’t hesitate when a glitter twink shoved him to his knees. “Suck it,” the man demanded, his cock somehow already free, and Harry felt no embarrassment to eagerly deliver.

Of course the cock had glitter on it. It tasted vaguely metallic, and Harry’s lips were streaked with blue shimmers even though he’d not yet had a chance to kiss the glitter on the man’s lips. Maybe if he showed how good a cock slut he could be he’d get the chance. He hallowed his cheeks around the thick, hard length, too sizable for a proper twink, but just right to have Harry gagging on it, even as he forced himself to take it deeper, take it all the way, swallow it down like his gag reflex didn’t matter because the only thing that mattered was feeling full and the vibrations of this glitter man groaning above him which Harry could definitely feel in his throat.

The man carded his blue speckled fingers into Harry’s dark hair and Harry vibrated from just the feel of it. He wanted… he wanted… there it was, the fingers grasping, tightening, gripping the hapless strands of hair that would never do what Harry wanted but could serve a purpose here and now as something easy for this man to yank. The noises Harry made. Eager, desperate noises, muffled by the cock down his throat. The man tightened his hold and Harry instantly went slack. His body quivered from anticipation but his jaw was slack. Just a hole to be fucked.

The words that rolled out of the man’s mouth. Vulgar obscenities. A crude assessment of exactly how Harry looked stuffed full with cock. Harry’s own dick twitched. Gods, he wanted to touch it. He wanted it so bad, but even more desperately he wanted to stay still and wait because… because… he was halfway certain…

There it was. Glitter finger grasping his hair, holding his head in place while hips thrust forward in shallow arcs, careful not to push too hard too fast even though Harry definitely could take it. Harry groaned in pleasure, his throat vibrating around the swollen cock forced inside of him, signalling he could take it. The man swore once more, and then truly thrust.

Pain. Pleasure. Bliss.

Harry sunk into the sensation of tight fingers holding him in place as hard cock pounded down his throat, his mind floating almost out of his body like this man’s cock cast its own spell. His limbs loosened, letting go of all the pent up tension that had strained him day in and day out since he’d last had a night to do exactly what he needed. Weeks since he’d pulled. Months since he’d been allowed anything close to this.

“Ah, ah, ah, fuck,” rasped the man, who pulled back just in time for his dick to pop loose from Harry’s lips and unload cum over Harry’s face. It splattered his eye lashes, over the arch of Harry’s nose, over his well fucked lips. Harry flickered a tongue out to taste the bitter spunk and the glitter man’s eyes followed the movement. “Up,” he commanded, and although Harry’s entire body was jelly he was compelled to obey.

Harry was rock hard and straining against what he’d previously thought were comfortable jeans. The glitter man snapped the button open and undid the zip to pop out Harry’s length. He wasted no time in gripping Harry and jackhammering his hand over Harry’s cock until Harry doubled over and writhed at the sensation. Too much and not enough and ARRGGHHH the cum was yanked out of Harry’s dick with as much force as this wild man used to yank Harry’s hair while he face fucked him. Harry’s mind was white blank space and loud noise and complete silence. The man caught Harry’s cum on the palm of his hand while Harry whimpered. He lifted his hand right up to Harry’s face.

Glitter and cum, mixed together like the most ridiculous party theme. Harry wondered if the man would smear it over his skin, but no. He lifted his hand right up to Harry’s lips. Harry’s eyes flickered from his own cum offered up to him, to those once again stormy eyes. They were like thunder clouds roiling and ready to strike. It made Harry’s dick wish it could swell up for another go. It made Harry’s heart flutter. Perhaps that’s why he did what the man wanted, and flickered out his tongue to taste his own spunk.

The way the glitter twink shuddered, like that one flicker of wet tongue on his skin reached far deeper under his skin.

He did smear the spunk on Harry then, right down the front of the front of his shirt. Harry was dirty. Filthy. “You're such a mess, sweetheart.” Gods, if he tried Harry could probably go again.

The glitter man took pity on Harry, even if Harry wasn’t sure he wanted that. The man wrapped Harry up in his arms, one hand rubbing soothingly against Harry’s back. He held Harry close enough Harry drew tense until, suddenly, for the second time that night, all the tension drained away. “That’s right, baby. Feeling better now?” Harry made some garbled noise while both the man’s hands trailed down his back, all the way down to cup his ass. “You feel good,” the man insisted, probably talking about Harry’s feelings and not his body. “Let’s get you somewhere you can relax.”

Harry was deposited back in the VIP lounge before he realized what had happened to him. He had his own ridiculous, overpriced water bottle that he was hoodwinked into drinking. He’d been there on his own for maybe an hour before he thought to do something about the cum on his clothes and on his face. Only, when he lifted his fingers to his cheeks, there was no dried and crusty grime clinging to him. There was no white stain on his chest.

Inexplicably, Harry missed it. The marks that strange glitter man had left behind.

The man was long gone by the time Harry got back to his feet. Not dancing in cages or in the throng of the dance floor. Deep in his bones, Harry knew the man was gone for good. He ached at the thought. Ached to know he never got a name, a floo address, little less a phone number.

There was a sudden, ever so slight niggling in the back of Harry’s head.

Where was his mobile?

He reached for his back pocket and found it empty. No matter how many pockets he checked, they were all the same. He spun on his heels, facing first the dance floor, then the lounge, then the hallway where he’d been so willingly fucked.

Then his brain registered a motion and he caught the bartender from the start of the night waving at him. Harry barely registered the shape of the words, “Hey man, I have your phone.” The explanation that it was turned in after the hot, sulky man in black dropped it barely held a place in Harry’s mind as he swiped the phone on and was greeted by two dozen notifications.

Missed call. Missed call. Missed call. Text message. Missed call.

Harry didn’t wait a beat before calling Ron back, only realizing how stupid he was when Ron started shouting because he couldn’t hear Harry over the music.

Out on the street Harry tried again. Ron picked up on the first ring.

“Blast it, Harry, where were you? The Death Eaters struck at Knockturn. We need your permission to go in.”

Noise buzzed in Harry’s head even though he was outside now and he’d left the sound behind. “What? When?”

“An hour ago. Why d’ya think I’ve been calling? Do you sign off?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” It wouldn’t matter, an hour was too much time. They’d be long gone without a trace.

Ron was already barking orders at aurors who’d apparently been on hand waiting. Then, to Harry, “Get your ass in here. It’s going to be a long night.”

Harry looked down at the wreckage of his body. Blue glitter everywhere the eyes could see, and the places eyes couldn’t. “I’m going to need thirty, maybe forty minutes.”

“Merlin wept,” Ron snapped. Harry hung up the phone before he could remark further and pulled out his wand to apparate home to get ready to go back to work.