warnings: Angst, drinking, Sirius gets knocked out lmao, mentions of death, older man/younger woman, dubious consent, rough sex, face slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, bratty reader, use of words like "Slut" and "Daddy". (Feel free to let me know if I missed something.)
I sighed and placed yesterday's edition of The Daily Prophet down on the kitchen counter. It was still early and the sun hadn't even began to rise yet. One thirty-seven the analog clock on the wall above the pantry door read. (It had read the same thing for a year now, it was broken.) I had awoken from a nightmare and had made myself a cup of chamomile tea (which was now cold and sitting abandon on the table) to calm my nerves.
The man on the cover of The Daily Prophet, who looked nothing like he had when I was younger, (How he looked when James was still alive, I thought. I shook my head trying to shake the thought away. It didn't work. I knew it wouldn't.) was staring up at me and laughing maniacally.
It had been many years since I had lost my brother (I hate the way people say it like that, "I lost him." I didn't lose him. No, I know exactly where he is. He's six feet under the ground at Godric's Hollow, with the same horrified expression that he had on his face that he had when he died. That is to say if it hasn't already decayed off of him. It probably has.)
I was 6 at the time. I was the only member of our family at his funeral, probably because our parents had died the year prior and I was the only member of our family left.
After my parents' death Ted and Andromeda Tonks took me in (James and Lily offered to take me, but they were so busy with the war and their new baby, Harry, and I didn't want to be a burden). They had a daughter a year my senior, Nymphadora, and we got along well. The Tonks treated me like one of their own and I lived with them until a little over a year ago.
When I was seventeen, I was finally old enough to live on my own and I moved into our old family home in London. Although it needed them, I didn't have the heart to make any renovations, I kept the house the same as it had been when my parents left it.
I poured my unfinished tea out in the sink and flipped the paper over, Prisoner #390 was not my ideal breakfast guest. I don't know why I had even bothered reading it in the first place, I know every fucking word, I'm the one who wrote it.
***
Sirius Black, mass murderer and possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.
"We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."
Fudge has recently been criticized by some members of the International Confederation of Wizards for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.
"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"
While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.
***
I got a job at The Daily Prophet straight out of Hogwarts, and with a very special thanks to Sirius Black and his escape from Azkaban, my work quickly made the front page. I had been assigned the task of being the lead reporter on the Sirius Black case. I knew every fact of the case and every possible sighting of Black that there was since his escape.
You'd think I'd be over James' death by now, I even thought I was over James' death by now, but Sirius' escape was like re-opening the wound, and being forced to cover it in the news was like pouring salt right into it.
A series of pecks on my window snapped me out of my muse. A tawny owl with a piece of parchment tied to her foot was the source of the noise. I opened the window and she flew in and perched herself on my counter before presenting me with her leg that had the letter tied to it. I carefully undid the knot and fed her a piece of my toast, which she took eagerly and flew away.
Sirius Black has been spotted in London.
The parchment read. It was written in swirly handwriting and bright green ink, and even though there was no name attached I knew it was from none other than Cornelius Fudge.
It wasn't the first time he sent me a (not so) anonymous tip about Sirius Black. I assume he doesn't want his name in the papers more than it already has been. Every magical paper there is has been putting him on blast because he told the Prime Minister about Sirius, potentially exposing our world.
I didn't know if he meant it as a warning or if he wanted me to put it in the paper. I decided to interpret it as the former, seeing as it was my day off and I'll be damned before I write anything for the paper today.
I almost threw it away, but I let my better judgement get to me and decided against it. I went to my bedroom to fetch (your owl's name) and wrote a quick note to Quinn, the intern who works under me.
Just got a tip, Black's been spotted in London, put it in the paper if you have time.
- Y/N Potter
"Get this to Quinn. Quickly, please." I told the barred owl, who was looking affectionately up at me. I gave (her/him/them) a scratch behind the head and opened my bedroom window. I stood there for a few moments, seeing (her/him/them) off.
I looked out at the city of London below me. If the tip that Fudge sent me was true, then Sirius Black and I are in the same city, he could be just mere miles away from me. The thought made me feel queasy and I decided to sooth my nerves with a bath.
I turned the water on the highest temperature and let it fill up the tub. I poured in a more than generous amount of bubbles and went downstairs to grab the half-finished bottle of wine out of my refrigerator (So what if it was five o'clock in the morning, I deserve this wine Godric dammit.)
I stepped into the tub and closed my eyes and tilted my head back, I basked in the warmth of the water and the sweet floral scent of the bubbles. I relaxed my muscles that I didn't realize had been tense and tried to rid my mind of the same negative thought that kept me up all night.
I raised the head of the bottle of wine to my lips but stopped before I took a drink, I could've swore I heard shuffling outside the door. I stayed completely still and listened to see if I could hear anything else, I didn't.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes at myself, I was being paranoid. The house was old and old houses creak. I chuckled and took a long swig of wine.
The water had started to get cold and I finished the wine before making any moves to clean myself off. I scrubbed shampoo into my hair and scalp then layed back in the tub to rinse out all of the suds. I inhaled deeply before raising up. My hair was heavier than usual because it was full of water, I squeezed it to ring out the extra water and wrapped a towel around it.
I lathered my body in a sweet smelling soap and gave my body a final rinse to rid it of the suds and bubbles before pulling the plug. I took the towel off my head, causing my damp hair fall against my body, and dried myself off.
I threw the used towel in the laundry basket and grabbed my (favorite color) silk robe off of the hook on the mahogany door. I carefully brushed my hair and teeth then doused myself in my favorite perfume. I grabbed the empty wine bottle off the side of the bath and opened the door, intending to walk out but instead standing motionless, staring at the sight in front of me.
I recognized him immediately, but shook the idea away. It couldn't be, my mind was playing tricks on me. I had to be hallucinating, (I mean, it is a possibility considering I'm sleep deprived and all.) I did a double take and he was still standing (Well, he was more so slouching than standing.) looking out of the window that I had previously stood at about an hour before, Sirius Black. He had both of his hands in his hands in his pockets, and if he was aware of my presence he didn't show it.
I instinctively reached into my pocket for my wand, but it was no where to be found. My eyes flicked to my beside table, where it lay no more than three feet from the man. My grip around the bottle tightened and I spoke up. "What are you doing here?"
He snapped his head toward me and cocked his head to the side, seemingly taking in my presence. I raised the wine bottle in my hand and prepared to defend myself. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Y/N?"
So he remembered me, of course he did, he was probably here to kill me then make his way toward Harry. He's here to clear out the last of the Potter bloodline, I thought to myself. I took a series of steps toward him and without thinking I reared the bottle back and smashed it against his head.
The bottle broke and the man fell to the floor, the side of his head bleeding where the bottle had cut him. I stepped over him and ran to grab my wand off of the table, thank Godric he hadn't seen it, if he had I would've probably been shaking hands with Merlin himself right about now.
I picked up my wand and contemplated casting the killing curse and getting this all over with, but instead I transfigured the bedside table into a cage using the "Incarcifors" spell to hold him. I knew I should've called an Auror, but I've had 12 years to ponder the unknowns of my brothers death and I'm not giving up the chance to get answers.
"Accio Veritaserum." I summoned a small bottle of Veritaserum. The bottle of was small, only enough for four questions at most. Tonks had given it to me for Christmas last year. When we were younger we used to play games of truth or dare with Veritaserum, using it to trick each other into spilling each of our juiciest secrets. I smiled for a second at the fond memory, but ridding all trace of emotion when I saw Prisoner #390 start to sir.
He sat up and looked around at the cage that I had him in, then looked at me through the bars "Impressive." he cocked an eyebrow and waved his hand motioning to the cage. "But you've got the wrong person."
I snickered. "So you're telling me you're not Sirius Black?" My tone was sarcastic.
"Sirius Orion Black, the one, the only," he waved toward himself. "But what I'm telling you is, I'm not the secret keeper."
I scowled. "Are you willing to die on that?"
"What do you mean?"
I held up the small glass bottle in my hand. "Veritaserum," I told him "Drink it and tell me, if it wasn't you, then who? If you're telling me the truth, that you really didn't do it, I won't kill you."
"You're really merciful, huh?" he was being sarcastic. "Gimme the bottle."
I dropped the bottle into his open hands and watched as he popped the cork,"You were super merciful when you told You-Know-Who where my brother was and killed twelve muggles and your best friend." I rolled my eyes.
"Told you, I didn't do it."
"Yea, yea," I dismissed him. "Drink up."
He brought the bottle up to his lips and took a long drink, I watched his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallowed. He looked up at me expectantly.
"Who really told Voldemort about my brother and killed those muggles" I asked him.
Just two words fell from his lips. "Peter Pettigrew."
I shook my head in disbelief. "That was impossible, Peter wasn't the secret keeper."
"We switched it from him to me at the last minute, we didn't think anyone would suspect him."
"So he told. And you just killed him and twelve muggles in the heat of the moment?"
"I wanted to kill him, believe me, but I didn't. He killed them then he framed me for James and Lily's death as well as his own and the muggles."
"Pettigrew's dead?" it came out as more of a question than a statement.
Sirius shook his head. "He's hiding, he's an Animagus, we all are. I'm a dog and James was a stag."
I couldn't believe it. There had to be something wrong with the potion, but Tonks and I both tried it before and it had worked. Maybe he had found a way to resist Veritaserum, just like he had found a way out of Azkaban. I shook the thought away, there was no way to resist Veritaserum.
"Are you done with your little interrogation now? This cage is kinda cramped."
I rolled my eyes, "Not quite yet." but I cast the counter-curse and set him free anyway.
He sat up and stretched his limbs. His dark eyes were sunken in and his hair was unkempt and matted. His face and hands were dirty. His clothes were torn, I could almost make out a few of the tattoos that were scattered across his exposed skin. He was skinnier than I remembered him to be, less muscle and more bone. He looked to be a shell of the man that he once was.
"Do you want to take a shower or something? I'm sure I can find you something else to wear."
He looked at me with wide eyes, like I just offered him a billion galleons. "Y-you wouldn't mind would you?"
"I wouldn't've offered if I minded, but afterward I expect a full recount of exactly what led up to James' death and what happened with Peter, understood?"
He opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "The bathroom is just this way. Mind the glass." I stepped over the broken bottle on the floor and led him to the bathroom that I had just been in moments before. "I'll leave the clothes just outside the door."
I left him to his own devices and made my way to James' old room, the old room that he shared with Sirius when he took refuge here from his family. All of my memories of my parents and James and Sirius in them.
His room was at the end of the hall, I had only been in his room less than five times since I moved in. I couldn't will myself to go in there more than necessary, but sometimes sitting in the floor of his room helped on nights that I couldn't fall asleep. I didn't dare sit on his bed, or rummage through his trunk, I was afraid that somehow my presence, my interference, would taint his memory.
Everything in his bedroom was exactly how he left it, from the halfway open sock drawer to the unmade bed, the room was frozen in time. In a time when he was alive and not just a memory. This was not the cottage he and Lily and Harry made their home, that was where he had died, but this room in our parents (My, I corrected myself but shook my head after thinking it, while it was mine calling it so still didn't feel right.) house is where he had lived.
I stood in front of his dresser trying to find the will to open his top drawer, I wasn't even sure if there was anything in it, but the act itself felt final. This would no longer be James' room, I would stake my claim on it, for I would interfere with it. I would touch what has been untouched, I would do what cannot be undone. The room that was once frozen in time would surge forward into the present, this would no longer be James' room, but instead just another empty room in the house that now belonged to me.
I put my hands on the top of the dresser to stabilize myself. This would be my undoing, the fact that I cared so much about so little. I was overthinking it. Keeping the room exactly as James had left it had not kept him here, and it's not going to bring him back.
I took a breath and opened the to drawer. It was half empty, containing only a few pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts. I maroon one stood out, Potter, it read, #7, His Quidditch sweatshirt. I made to run my fingers across the lettering but jerked my hand back before I could.
I had trained myself like a Pavlov dog, daring myself to touch anything, to taint his memory. I traced over each of the letters slowly like it was an act of defiance before flipping through and finding one of James' old Gryffindor sweatshirts and a pair of gray sweatpants.
I dropped the clothes in front of the door like I told him I would and headed downstairs to the kitchen to make tea and I'm-sorry-for-knocking-you-unconscious-then-locking-you-in-a-cage-and-threatening-to-kill-you biscuits.
I had just put them in the oven when Sirius padded into the kitchen. (Godric, he cleans up nice.) James' clothes were too big for him, his sweatshirt engulfing his entire upper body and his sweats hanging down around his hips. He looked a lot more like his former self now that he was cleaned up. I could almost see a shadow of handsome boy that used to live with us.
"This place is exactly like how I remember it." His eyes swept across the kitchen then landed on me. "It's refreshing, so much has changed since..." He looked down at the floor.
"Since you went to Azkaban." I spoke up. He nodded."Do you want something to drink? Tea" I offered, holding up the small teapot that had now finished steeping, "Or Firewhiskey, or something?"
"Firewhiskey would be great, thanks." He was still standing in the archway of the kitchen taking everything in.
"You're welcome," I sat the teapot down and grabbed two large glasses from the cupboard and began to fill them both with a generous amount of Firewhiskey. I sat his glass on the counter in front of me. "Sit." I commanded motioning to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the counter.
He chuckled at my command, but complied nonetheless, sitting down and picking up the paper that I had set there earlier this morning "Mind if I?" he asked holding it up.
"Go ahead, it's yesterdays though, today's won't come for a few more hours." I turned my attention to the dishes that were sitting in the sink.
"Want some help?" he asked looking up from what he was reading. I shook my head, I preferred doing things on my own. He began to read the paper out loud "'Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle.' Can you believe that? Whoever is writing this stuff really isn't doing me any justice."
I chuckled down at the plate that I had been washing. "What's so funny?" he asked me.
"Who did you say wrote it?" I asked, risking a glance over at him. I couldn't see him over the paper.
"I didn-" He cut himself off, as I assumed he figured out 'What's so funny.' "Oh, I see. You little..." His tone was playful as he folded up the paper and placed it back down.
"I am a little what, hmm?" I was laughing unabashedly now.
"A little minx, you are. Do you really think that about me?" he was laughing too. It was nothing like how he looked laughing on the cover of The Daily Prophet, now his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut, a genuine smile was stretched across his face.
"I did. I mean, do you blame me? Up until an hour ago I thought you to be the reason for my brother's death."
"Truthfully, I would've done the same." He stopped laughing and looked me in the eye. His tone was grave, "James was like a brother to me, losing him was one of the worst pains that I've ever felt. I can't imagine how you dealt with losing him and your parents in less than a year."
I shrugged, talking about my brothers death wasn't really my idea of a good conversation, but I spoke about it anyway. "I was six, you don't really have a concept of death when your six." My tone was a little harsher than I meant for it to be and I softened it before I spoke again. "All I knew was that James and my parents were gone. I didn't know where or why, not until later, not until I got to Hogwarts and everyone started asking me about Harry."
"Harry? Have you spoken to him?"
"Not recently, he's been on holiday and he's with those bloody muggles in Surrey. You should hear how they treat him, locked him in a cupboard and they don't let him get letters, poor bloke. Told him his mum and James died in a car crash. I tried to get Dumbledore to let him stay with me, I am his godmother after all, but he went on about how I can barely take of myself, which is a load of bullocks because I can take care of myself just fine, an-" My temper was rising with every word, I was practically yelling by the time Sirius cut me off.
"Wait, He's staying with muggles? And they locked him in a cupboard!?"
I had to catch my breath before speaking. "Yea, that's what I said. And did you not hear the part where-"
"Yea, I heard all of it. Where did you say they lived again?" He downed all of the Firewhiskey in one gulp and stood up.
"Surr- Uh-uh, you are not going over there."
"Relax, I'm not. Not now anyway," He said the least part under his breath, "But, I have just as much of a right to know where my godson is as you do." His voice was firm and raised, he wasn't exactly yelling but it was a bit louder than it was before.
He's kinda hot when he's fired up, I thought before pinching myself. Snap out of it, I told myself, He's your brother's age and a Azkaban escapee, the reasonable part of my brain spoke, He's also a D.I.L.F, I smirked to myself at the thought that I knew I shouldn't be having. (Is he still a D.I.L.F. if he doesn't have any kids. Well, I guess if you count Harry as his kid, since he is his godson, he is, but then that would make me a M.I.L.F. because I'm his godmother. Am I a M.I.L.F.?)
"Where is he, Y/N?" He asked me again, snapping me out of my mini identity crisis.
"He's in Little Whinging, but you have to promise not to go over there and get him stirred up, he's..." I trailed off.
"He's got a temper like James'." Sirius finished for me. "And it seems like he's not the only one, by the sound of your little outburst there."
"Whatever, but if you think that was an outburst then you have another thing coming."
Sirius bit his bottom lip and looked me up and down. "I know a way that we could make sure that little attitude of yours stays in check."
I didn't know if his words were deliberate, or if they were a side effect of the Veritaserum or a product of the Firewhiskey. Maybe I didn't even hear him correctly, I mean I did just drink half a bottle of wine and some Firewhiskey, I'm not exactly sober, but by the wide-eyed look on his face I think I did.
"I- uh," I turned my attention back do the dishes and he sat down and picked the newspaper back up and began to read it silently to himself. Both of us remained in the uncomfortable silence waiting for the other to speak up, until Sirius did.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud."
"It's fine."
"I can leave if you want."
"You're on the run, Sirius, after serving time for a crime you didn't even commit, the least I can do is offer you a place to stay. It's what James would've done." I pulled the plug and let the dish water drain out of the sink.
"James would also serve me my ass on a platter if he knew I made a pass at his sister."
"Well, James isn't here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure my brothers dead." I responded shortly.
"No, I mean are you sure that you want me to stay."
"Yes, I'm quite sure of that too."
"Thanks." his reply was barely audible.
I grabbed the bottle of Firewhiskey and refilled my glass, "What some?" I offered it to Sirius, who nodded, and I refilled his too. I took a drink and gained a little bit of courage. "What you said, did you mean it?" I asked. Although I didn't specify exactly what, we both knew what I meant.
Sirius sat the paper down once more and looked at me. "I shouldn't've, but I did."
"Good."
"Good." Sirius affirmed. I stared at his lips as he spoke, They're just so kissable. (I seriously need to get a grip.) I looked at him from across the counter, his gray eyes were already on me, we stayed like that for a few long seconds, just looking at each other, admiring how we each have changed over the years, how much we both grew up. He opened his mouth to speak but the sound of the oven cut him off.
"Biscuits are done." I announced, and turned my attention away from him and to the biscuits before I did something stupid (Like kiss him.) I took them out of the oven and the aroma of fresh chocolate chip biscuits filled the kitchen. "Now, about the recount that you promised-"
"I don't remember promising anything." he raised his eyebrows.
"Let me rephrase it. You're going to recount what exactly what happened leading up to my brother's death and what happened with Pettigrew, and in return I won't send an owl to the Minister and let him know that I have a certain person of interest in my kitchen."
"One word: Ruthless." he quipped, but began to explain regardless. He was solemn and he kept his eyes trained on the table. As he explained to me everything that happened, I felt the anger that I once held for the man ebb away into sympathy.
I wanted to take him into my arms and let him know that everything would be okay, I would repeat it like a mantra until he believed it as much as I did. My sympathy once again rose into anger, not at Sirius but at Peter, for betraying his friends, and at the Ministry, for not giving Sirius a trial, and at myself, for believing all the bullshit that was fed to me by the Ministry.
"That conniving bastard. Where is he?" I was referring to Pettigrew.
"Now listen-"
"I've been listening."
"Good listeners don't speak." He was talking to me like a child.
I huffed.
"I'm not entirely sure its him, but I have reason to believe he is staying with the Weasley's."
"Do you think that they know, ya know, that it's him?"
"I don't think so."
"We've got to tell them, we can get Peter and get you cleared."
"No. We have to wait, Peter will be expecting us, we have to get him when he is least expecting it."
"That's utterly ridiculous, I'm just saying."
"Which is exactly why no one gave you any say."
I huffed again. "Whatever," I put the biscuits on a plate and took one before setting them in front of Black and lifting myself to sit on the counter. He took one and closed his eyes and smiled after he bit into it. Butterflies erupted into my stomach and heat rose on my cheeks.
"These taste exactly like Euphemia's used too." He looked up at me.
"It's her recipe." I smiled widely back at him.
He kept his eyes on me, studying me, I squirmed under his gaze. "Y/N" he finally whispered, I raised my eyebrows, "Thank you for believing me."
Any reserve I had flew out the window when I saw that there were tears glistening in his eyes. I took his face in both of my hands and pressed my lips to his. I pulled away and just as quickly he was pulling me back to him.
He tasted of chocolate, cinnamon, cigarettes, and something that I had never tasted before, something good, something indescribably himself. I moaned and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue began to explore my mouth, I eagerly submitted allowing him access. I pulled him closer to me by his shirt collar and he groaned, sending tingles and sparks through my body.
"More," I whined when he pulled away.
He walked over to me and situated himself between my legs. He gently grabbed my face with both of his hands and held my head up so that I had no other choice but to look at him. I could feel him getting harder between my legs. "You don't have to do this, Y/N, I'm not going to be mad if you say 'No'." His voice was soft and I knew that he was being sincere.
"I want to, Sirius," I looked up at him.
"I want to too, but I don't know if I will be able to hold back. It's been so long, I need you so badly." His voice was still gentle.
I moved my hand so that it was palming his hard-on through his pants before Sirius grabbed my wrist and forced my hand away. I whined but he shushed me lightly, "Not yet, pretty girl. Have you ever had a safeword before?"
I nodded, "Red."
"That's the one we'll use then. Is that okay?"
I nodded again.
"Are you sure you want to?" He asked again.
My impatience got the best of me, I rolled my eyes at him. He gave me a stern look, I knew if I pulled something like that after I gave my consent I would be punished, I made a mental note to do it again. "Clearly, I want to do this." I huffed.
"If you really want it, I think that you better use your manners. Sluts who are impolite get punished, understand?"
I wanted to make a snarky remark, but when I saw the way his dark gray eyes bore into mine, any words that I wanted to say died on my tongue. His pupils were blown wide, he looked at me like I was his prey. I wanted nothing more than to break the intense eye contact, but his hand was still holding my head in place.
My gaze shot down to his plump lips, they were stretched into a smirk, showing off his sharp canines. I wanted them buried deep into my skin, marking me so that everyone knew exactly what kind of power he had over me.
"Dumb puppy, can't even speak properly. Pathetic," he delivered a harsh slap to my cheek. "Get on your knees." He stepped away to give me room to sink to my knees.
I weighed my options, debating whether to obey him or push his buttons a little further. After some (not so) heavy deliberation, I ultimately decided to follow orders, not knowing what punishment would entail and needing him too desperately to want to find out.
If you would've asked me yesterday what I thought I would be doing today, the answer certainly wouldn't be sucking Sirius Black's dick in my kitchen, yet here we are. I was looking up at him through my eyelashes as I dipped my fingertips below the waistband of his pants. He was holding the too big sweatshirt up with one hand, giving me full access to his lower-half.
I felt his happy trail brush against my palm and bit back a smirk before swiftly pulling his sweatpants down so they sat on his thigh, and his hard cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach. His length was quite impressive and I stared at in awe for a few seconds before spiting on my hands and wrapping them around it.
As I began to pump, his head fell back and his mouth fell open in a silent moan. I pumped him steadily and brought my mouth down to his balls, where I began to lick and suck, paying them extra attention.
As I did so profanities and praises began to spill from the man in front of me. Symphonies of "Fuck,''s and "So good"'s, filled the room and fueled my desire. My hands left his dick and he whined at the loss of contact.
I licked a stripe up his shaft before wrapping my mouth around his head. I used my tongue to trace up and down the slit, tasting the salty precum that was emitted from it. His free hand tangled itself in my hair and guided me down to taking all of his length.
"At least your bratty fucking mouth's good for something." The praise he gave me was disguised as degradation, but I was relishing in it nonetheless. My nose was buried in the almost black hair below his happy trail, the sides of my mouth spilling with drool.
I was gagging before he finally released his hold on me. He let me catch my breath before slapping his wet cock against my cheek, leaving a trail of spit connecting the two. "Shut up and take it." He said before pushing me back down onto his cock and fucking my face.
Tears began to freely stream down my face as gagged around him. "I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat of yours and your gonna swallow all of it like a good pup, understand?" He asked as he thrust into my mouth.
I hummed around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. He groaned and his hips began to stutter before spilling his hot, piquant seed in my throat. He pulled out and I eagerly swallowed everything he gave me before opening my mouth to show him that I obeyed.
He offered me his hand and helped me up before enveloping me in a furious kiss. My hands tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and he began to untie the silk bow that held my robe closed. I let my robe fall to the floor, leaving my body completely exposed to the man in front of me.
"So pretty," he whispered as he pulled away. His eyes swept up and down my body. "Don't even know how I kept my hands off of you for this long." He patted the counter signalling that he wanted me to jump up there, and I did.
He rid himself of the sweatpants and sweatshirt. I finally got a glimpse of the tattoos that covered his body. I reached out and traced my finger over the one in the center of his chest, he melted into my touch. I pulled him closer and met my lips with his.
His hands found their way to my nipples, twisting and pulling, eliciting moans from me. He swept my hair to one side and began to suck marks on my breast and gently pull on my hardening nipple with his teeth. "Feels so good, Daddy. Please don't stop."
To my displeasure he did exactly the opposite of what I asked him to do. "What did you just call me?" He was looking into my eyes and smirking. I retraced my words and when I figured out the answer I flushed and buried my head in my hands.
"'M sorry. Didn't mean to."
"Look at me," His voice was firm and he was gently pulling at my wrists to bring my hands down. I complied, my eyes were brimming with tears from my embarrassment. "I want you to say it again."
"D-daddy?"
"There's Daddy's good girl."
My stomach got butterflies from him referring to himself in third person. He pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead before pulling my hips, so that my core was on the edge of the counter and lowering himself to it's level.
"So wet already," he mused as he dipped his middle finger between my folds, he brought it up to his mouth and sucked all of my juices off of it. "Tastes so sweet, puppy. Daddy's gonna make you feel good, yea?"
He licked a stripe up my pussy then stopped to lick circles around my clit. My thighs closed around his head instinctively, he used his hands to pry them open again. "Keep those spread for me. Okay, pretty girl."
I whined my assent and he returned his attention back to my core. He took my clit between his lips and began to suckle it, I bucked my hips at his touch. My hands wound themselves in his hair, subtly pushing his head closer.
He let go of my clit and began to lick up and down my core, drinking up my liquids. His face was unshaven (Yes, the curtain matched the drapes.) and his stubble was rubbing my thighs raw, and I couldn't get enough.
He pulled away just long enough to suck on his middle and ring finger, getting them both sloppy wet before slipping them inside of me one at at time. As he turned his attention back to my clit and his fingers began to rub against my g-spot, I felt the coil in my stomach tighten.
"'M close." I whined.
He removed his mouth from my clit and began to rub circles on it with his thumb. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a mess on my fingers?" His words and his movements sent me over the edge and I began to cum, my pussy clenched around his fingers and my eyes were shut tightly. "You look pretty when you cum. I wanna see it again, wanna see you cum around Daddy's cock."
He stood up and lined his cock up with my entrance, he looked at me for permission before pushing in, inch by inch until he bottomed out. His arms were on either side of me, keeping me in place, I could hear his breathing getting heavier.
"Move, move, please for the love of Godric, move." I whined at the man above me.
"Needy little slut, aren't you?" he chastised, but began to move (very slowly but still) anyways. His cock brushed against my g-spot with every thrust, the head of his cock tapped against my cervix.
"Harder" I moaned.
His mouth stretched into a leer. "Yea, you want it harder?" he began to piston his hips faster, hitting my cervix with no abandon. My back arched instinctively and I began to let out small high pitched moans. He sank his teeth into my shoulder and I began to cum for the second time this morning. "Fuck, you're so tight."
He continued to thrust into me and my body began to jolt from all of the overstimulation. "Gonna cum inside this tight pussy," he growled in my ear. I moaned and let out strings of pleas, begging him to do just that.
He moved one hand down to my clit and wrapped the other around my throat, bringing me to the brink of another orgasm. "Gonna cum again, pup? C'mon, cum with me." He began to thrust spontaneously, hitting my g-spot directly every time.
I let out a final wanton moan and came around his cock, he followed suit a second after. My inner walls constricted, milking his dick of any cum that he had left.
After he hit his high, his body collapsed onto mine and I wrapped my legs and arms around his thin frame. I gently scratched his back and he nuzzled his head into my neck. I felt warm tears roll down my shoulders and realized instantly that he was crying.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, my voice laced with concern.
He murmured something that sounded like "Felt so good," into my neck before pulling away and wiping away his tears with the back of his hand and smiling at me. He gently pulled out and I whined at the loss of contact, he consoled me with a kiss before reaching behind me for something. He held up a now crumpled copy of The Daily Prophet that I didn't realize had been laying there.
"Gonna write about fucking me in The Daily Prophet?" he asked me grinning.
"Oh yea, I'm gonna tell them all about how I made you cum so hard you cried." I retorted.