
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1597889.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Dean_Thomas
  Character:
      Neville_Longbottom, Seamus_Finnigan, Ron_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Implied_Sexual_Content, Mild_slash, Explicit
      Sexual_Content, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Humor
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-30 Words: 1213
****** Because I Can ******
by Twisted_Mind
Summary
     Harry has an . . . interesting talent. One night, the Gryffindor boys
     get a demonstration.
Notes
     Originally posted June 30th 2012 at HP Fandom. Edited upon re-posting
     here.
     So, yes. I am a sick puppy, and if you have an issue with depravity,
     use the back button, because flaming is not tolerated. Betaed by
     GhostxWriter.
     Seriously? If the below ever happened in the Potterverse, the whole
     thing would implode. (Unless, y'know, it does.) Ergo, nothing below
     belongs to me. (Except the idea, of course.)
“Harry,” Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes, “For the very last time, that isn’t
possible.”

Harry’s boyfriend, Dean, sniggered, as Harry calmly replied, “Yes, it is.”

The other boys in the Gryffindor dorm watched the best friends fight,
unworried. These two had had this argument before.

“Look, I can understand that you’re a great shag, Harry, but what you’re saying
is mental. No bloke can do … that,” Ron said stubbornly.

“To be fair, it’s only since I got the knack of my Animagus form that I’ve been
able to do it,” Harry argued.

“Look, you’re my best mate, but you’re spewing utter shite,” Ron muttered
mulishly, crossing his arms over his torso.

Harry sighed before turning to Dean. “Are you gonna be pissed if . . .?” he
trailed off meaningfully.

Dean grinned. “Are you kidding me? I love watching you do that. As long as you
don’t mind themseeing,” he gestured to the others, “then I don’t mind either.
Just so long as they understand that this is one-time-only, and that I better
not catch them ogling you afterwards.” His tone morphed from playful to subtly
menacing.

Harry nodded, before his expression turned coy. “You wanna help me out a
little?”

Dean’s answer came in the form of an easy grin. Neville, Seamus, and Ron
settled on the redhead’s bed to watch as the dark-skinned teen advanced on his
boyfriend. Harry smiled, his eyes glittering, as Dean pressed him against one
of the posts of the canopied bed, his taller, broader body lining up to fit
against Harry’s own. Harry looked up at his lover, arms wrapping around Dean.
When Harry dragged blunt nails across his cloth-covered back, Dean fisted his
hand in the wild black hair and kissed Harry.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet or teasing or soft. It was all fighting
for dominance with thrusting tongues and split lips from fierce bites. It was a
battle, neither one giving in. Hands grabbed and clutched until it was
impossible to tell where one body ended and the other began, clad as they still
were in their uniform trousers and shirts. The turning point was when Dean
wormed a hand between them, cupping Harry’s clothed erection and squeezing
firmly. Harry moaned, and went limp within his boyfriend’s grasp. Dean lowered
him onto the bed, covering the smaller body with his own.

Smiling like the cat that got the canary, Dean moved his mouth to suck a line
of hickeys along the pale expanse of Harry’s throat, his right hand never
ceasing its maddening rhythm of squeeze-and-release at Harry’s groin.
Meanwhile, his other hand was freeing Harry’s buttons from their holes. Their
audience was watching raptly.

“Cripes, Dean’s talented,” Seamus muttered.

“How d’you figure?” Neville asked, his eyes never straying from the spectacle
of the two in front of him.

“Well, he’s turned Harry into goo, for starters,” Ron interjected. The other
two ripped their gaze away from the boy in question to stare at Ron. “Harry’s
always so tightly wound I figured that if he ever let go, he’d probably blow up
half the country,” Ron said defensively. Neville and Seamus nodded--everyone in
the dorm knew what Harry’s temper was like--before turning back to watch the
show.

By now, Dean had divested Harry of his shirt, and was working on his trousers--
all whilst keeping his mouth busy, licking and sucking at Harry’s nipples,
biting at his collarbone, and returning to The Chosen One’s mouth for more of
those savage kisses. Harry was writhing under the dark-skinned youth, straining
against the body pinning him down and moaning his pleasure. Then, with a smirk
befitting of a Slytherin, Dean pulled back suddenly, taking Harry’s trousers
and boxers with him and leaving Harry sprawled naked on his bed.

“There you are, sexy. Enough incentive for you?” Dean asked, his voice deep and
smoky. Harry threw him a half-hearted glare.

“Bloody cock-tease,” Harry muttered mutinously, before fishing for his wand
amid his pile of discarded clothes, his bare arse in the air. When he popped
back up, the other boys--even Ron--were all looking a little glassy-eyed. Harry
snickered a little before lying back down on the bed. He spread his legs wide,
his cock thick and pink and standing to attention, before pointing his wand at
the bedposts and murmuring a spell.

Dean chuckled at the looks of surprise on the faces of the others as a network
of ropes appeared over Harry’s head, descending to wrap around his ankles and
pull his legs straight up in the air, still spread apart. A second set of ropes
descended, hovering over his stomach. They watched, eyes widening, as Harry
reached up, grabbed the ropes, and--winding them around his wrists--pulled his
upper body upright, somehow managing to fold himself in half.

And promptly started mouthing the head of his cock.

“’M pretty sure we’re not supposed to be that flexible,” Seamus whispered
reverently, staring at the way Harry’s tongue flicked over his slit.

“Benefits of being an Animagus are starting to convince me,” Neville mumbled,
mostly to himself.

Harry swallowed down a bit more of his cock, and moaned in pleasure. Feeling
his throat vibrate around his cock caused him to groan, setting a cascade of
sensation in motion. As Harry hurtled closer to orgasm, the others leaned
forward to take in every detail: the way his legs tightened and his toes
curled, the way the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunched and trembled with
the strain of keeping himself suspended, the way his sweat-slicked back shone,
the stifled cries of pleasure-pain as his body danced along the edge. Finally,
with a muffled shriek, they watched his dick twitch and jerk in orgasm as Harry
fought to swallow when his own come flooded his mouth.

After riding out his shattering climax, Harry loosed his grip on the ropes, his
upper half flopping bonelessly onto the bed. His chest, slick and shining, rose
and fell with his gasps, and his eyes fluttered closed in his flushed face.
Dean moved then, vanishing the bindings with a flick of his wand, and muttering
healing charms over Harry’s rope-burned wrists, before pulling the duvet up to
his boyfriend’s waist. His self-appointed task complete, Dean sat cross-legged
on the bed beside Harry, grinning at his dorm-mates.

When Harry turned hazy eyes at them, he said only five words: “I told you I
could.” Ron nodded dumbly, the heel of his hand pressed against his own raging
erection.

Seamus--whose own trousers were sporting a rather damp patch--asked, in the
hushed tones of those overwhelmed with awe, “But, what gave you the idea? And
why’d you want to do it again?”

Harry laughed softly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Because I can. Why
else?” He got up then, and sauntering--still nude--to the bathroom, called over
his shoulder, “Coming Dean?”

“Not yet!” Came the reply. Then, he turned to the others. “Now, I understand
that he’s a hot bloke, but you're not invited watch in the showers, you pervy
buggers!” Dean laughed at their gobsmacked (and thoroughly disappointed)
expressions before joining his boyfriend in the shower. He had his own little
problem to take care of, after the show Harry had just put on.




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