
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/253578.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Cedric_Diggory/Harry_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Cedric_Diggory
  Additional Tags:
      Slash, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Gloves,
      Clothing_Kink, Character_Death_Fix, Hand_Jobs, Blow_Jobs, Oral_Sex,
      Falling_In_Love, Obsession
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-09-15 Words: 2156
****** Hand in Glove ******
by SweetSorcery
Summary
     The loss of a worn Quidditch glove leads Cedric to find something far
     more valuable.
Notes
     Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling,
     Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros.
     Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-
     profit, non-infringement entertainment.
     Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
     Author's Notes: This was written in April 2006.
     (Please note that I may lock my explicit stories to registered users
     only, once they've been up for a bit.)
     Warning: Harry is 16. If that's underage where you are, you might
     like to avoid!
The loss of one of his Quidditch gloves had not seemed of great consequence to
Cedric Diggory; as Hogwarts' new Quidditch instructor after Hooch had made off
to Beauxbatons, he could easily afford replacements. But it was a pity, because
the leather had been well worn, soft and comfortably moulded to the shape of
Cedric's right hand. He hadn't expected to see the glove again. He certainly
hadn't expected to see it on Harry Potter's hand, wrapped around Harry Potter's
cock.
There was no mistaking it - it was Cedric's glove, from the bleached shade of
tan to the nearly worn through patch near the wrist. Beyond that, it was
completely impossible to concentrate on the glove itself, considering…
* * *
When Cedric arrived at the locker rooms, approaching them from the castle, he
slowed his steps as he realised a light was on inside. He carefully moved
through the shrubs and towards the door. It was nearly nine o'clock at night,
and who would be out here except for himself wanting to get in some late night
practice? He soundlessly opened the door and, when he didn't see anyone right
away, walked in and towards the lockers. Just before he got there, he heard
movement from the area and turned sideways to approach from the showers instead
so as not to be seen. He didn't know why he thought stealth was necessary,
except that he was still so new to being a teacher, he hadn't entirely shaken
his student mentality yet. He felt more in sync with the students he instructed
than with his fellow faculty members. And he felt most in sync with the
particular boy he saw standing in front of the lockers.
Cedric had recognised Harry Potter during the boy's first year on hearsay
alone. By his third year, Harry's heroics had made him impossible to ignore.
And then there had been that Quidditch game during which they had passed high
above the pitch, both pausing in their eager search for the snitch to look
towards each other. To hold eye contact for too long a time to be entirely safe
on a speeding broom. Too long a time to be accidental. Too long a time to end
in anything but shy smiles and mutual blushing.
The sound of a locker closing shook Cedric from his remembrances for a moment,
and he peered past the corner of the shower cubicles to see Harry sitting down
on the bench, still in full Quidditch gear, looking thoughtfully at something
in his hands.
During Harry's fourth year and that blasted tournament, he had been Cedric's
constant worry, and constant obsession, right up until the moment a bewitched
and confused Viktor Krum had destroyed the cup. Everyone had been angry, but in
the end, it hadn't mattered; certainly not to Cedric, because Harry had been
safe. He'd had a very bad feeling about the tournament. The following year, at
the leaving ball for the seventh years, Harry had passed Cedric in the
corridor, saying a sad goodbye to him; Cedric had told him that he would be
returning after the holidays as the new Quidditch instructor. The sadness had
vanished instantly, and Harry's smile at the news would have rivalled the sun.
That smile had haunted Cedric during the summer, and ever since Harry's sixth
year had started, a month ago, Cedric had fought to stop himself from
approaching him and asking whether he had meant for it to haunt him. By now,
Harry was constantly in Cedric's thoughts. His face was etched into Cedric's
mind, the colour of his eyes burned into his memory, and the shape of his smile
sweetened his dreams.
Cedric stood very still, able to see Harry's profile from the right. The
Gryffindor's back was against the wall separating the lockers from the showers,
his legs some way apart. Cedric watched him open his hands, and nearly gasped
when he recognised his missing glove in Harry's right hand. He watched him
inspect it, shivered as if the leather was an extension of his skin when
Harry's fingers caressed it, and nearly whimpered when the boy lifted it to his
lips and kissed it.
And after that, Cedric thought he would probably go quite mad, because the next
thing Harry did was push back the folds of his long red Quidditch cloak, unzip
his trousers, and let the flaps fall open around his already erect cock. Cedric
sighed in sympathy just as Harry did when the pressure was relieved.
Harry looked down at himself, licked his lips, and peeled Cedric's glove over
his right hand. Cedric's fingers clenched around the thin wall just as Harry's
gloved hand wrapped itself around his cock and began to stroke it, at a
forcibly leisurely pace, as if he was memorising the exact feel of the softened
leather against his sensitive skin.
Cedric bit his lip as he watched, enthralled, wishing he could see Harry's
expression more clearly even while considering that he shouldn't be here,
watching this, at all.
Harry's legs fell open further as he slouched back against the wall, his head
lolling to the side as he sped up his strokes. He was breathing heavily, but
making no other noise, almost as if he was used to doing this quickly,
silently, efficiently.
Cedric was pressing himself against the wall separating them so tightly that he
feared it might bend. He hoped against hope that the pressure might somehow get
rid of his ever more insistent erection. He had fantasised so much about Harry
that to see him now, here, doing this, with his glove, felt almost dreamlike.
He was certain he would wake up any moment, while wishing desperately that
Harry would do something, anything, to convince him this was real. That was
when he heard the soft gasp, followed by a single word that almost made him cry
out.
"Cedric!" Harry's hand - Cedric's glove - tightened around the straining flesh,
punishingly, squeezing hard enough to make Cedric's eyes water. The strong
thighs were trembling, and Harry whimpered. "Please... Cedric."
Cedric couldn't help himself. It wasn't even a conscious decision. He
approached the boy from his hiding place. His legs felt shaky, and he was so
hard, it hurt to walk.
Harry was too engrossed in his impending climax to hear the soft steps, but
when his hand was covered by another, long fingers curling around his own,
loosening them ever so slightly but continuing his strokes, his eyes flew open.
Panic and arousal swirled in a green fire. "Shit! Oh God!" he cried out,
jolting upright. "I'm so..."
"It's okay, Harry." Cedric knelt before him, between his spread legs, smiling
gently. He looked at their hands, atop one another on Harry's cock, stroking at
a less punishing pace. "You're squeezing so hard, Harry. Doesn't that hurt?"
His voice was infinitely soft.
"Don't mind," Harry whispered, his eyes wide and his cheeks pink with shame.
"I wouldn't do it so hard, you know," Cedric assured him. "I'd be very gentle
with you. Like this." He uncurled Harry's gloved hand and took his cock
entirely into his own.
Harry moaned and shuddered.
Cedric stroked him slowly, with firm but not too tight strokes, admiring the
rosy flesh in his palm and the darker tip squeezing through his fist, leaving
droplets on his skin with each downstroke. "Isn't this better?" he asked
huskily.
"Yes." Harry gulped. Then he moaned as Cedric smeared come over his tip and
into the slit.
"What else have you fantasised about, Harry?" Cedric asked, his voice deep and
breathy. Harry went pink. "You can tell me." A soft smile, gently encouraging.
"I... I've thought about you... licking me." Harry lowered his eyes.
The cock in Cedric's hand twitched during Harry's confession. "So have I,"
Cedric breathed, his eyes meeting Harry's as the boy's head snapped up.
"You have?"
Cedric smirked. He held the base of Harry's cock, just tightly enough to delay
the inevitable a little longer, and flicked his tongue out across the come-
smeared tip.
Crying out, Harry jerked on the bench, nearly sliding off. His gloved hand
found Cedric's hair, and he curled his fingers in it, his left hand gripping
the edge of the bench he was sitting on.
"That's right, Harry. Hold on to me." Cedric uncurled the clenching fingers
from the bench and entwined them with his own.
Harry's fingers tightened in Cedric's. He sighed, watching with half-lidded
eyes as Cedric smiled up at him and ran the tip of his tongue along the
underside of his cock. He was at once tense and boneless, the muscles of his
legs twitching uncontrollably. "Cedric," he whispered, awed, holding the grey
eyes as if he couldn't believe the man was real.
Cedric closed his mouth over the head of Harry's cock, and hummed.
Harry snapped his hips forward by reflex, then panicked that he might gag
Cedric, but the hand around his base was tight, keeping him from pushing too
far, too fast. He relaxed back into the pleasure, moaning softly as Cedric's
lips squeezed around him and his tongue sought out every sensitive spot,
drawing Harry's cock deeper and deeper into his throat. When Cedric tilted his
head slightly, crouching lower and looking up at Harry from under his lashes,
and then simply swallowed, Harry's dwindling control snapped, and with a broken
cry, he came harder than he had ever done in his life. He couldn't seem to
stop, no matter how much he worried about how Cedric could take it all.
Cedric didn't seem to be in distress. His eyes firmly fixed on Harry's, he
swallowed and continued to suck, more and more gently, until Harry was
completely drained. He looked up at the flushed face, mussed hair and chewed
lips, and felt a surge of affection so strong it nearly undid him.
Harry must have seen something in his expression, because his eyes widened, and
he swallowed hard. "Cedric," he breathed.
Cedric smiled at him almost bashfully and tucked him back in. Then, remaining
on his knees, he leaned forward to pull Harry into his arms.
Harry clung to him, his head in the crook of Cedric's neck, his nose flattened
against a solid shoulder under soft grey cotton. He inhaled deeply, Cedric's
spicy, musky scent overwhelming his senses. There was so much he wanted to say,
had been wanting to say for so long, that he couldn't decide where to start. It
didn't matter. Cedric seemed to know how he felt. He was treating him gently
enough to make Harry think that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.
"May I kiss you, Harry?" Cedric finally asked, sounding hesitant.
Harry couldn't help it. He giggled, more out of sheer giddiness than amusement,
and Cedric joined in.
"That was a stupid question, wasn't it? Considering..." Cedric raised his head
and cupped Harry's face in his hands. He hardly dared to breathe for a moment.
"I've been wanting you for so long, Harry," he said huskily. "I can barely
think about anything but you."
Harry's heart was pounding. His lips parted, but he couldn't form words. He
gave Cedric a pleading look, hoping it would speak for him. And it must have,
because with a soft whimper, Cedric closed his eyes and kissed him.
There was nothing to which Harry could liken that kiss. Not even what Cedric
had done to him minutes earlier could compare. His lips were soothed and licked
and nibbled on, his tongue played with, and throughout it all, Cedric's hands
were caressing his cheeks, cupping his head, running through his hair. By the
time Cedric released Harry's mouth, they were both breathing hard and trembling
all over.
Harry gazed at Cedric adoringly. "I think I love you," he blurted out, then
squeezed his eyes closed in mortification. For a moment, nothing happened. Both
of them were holding their breaths. And then Harry's glasses were pulled off
and he felt those soft lips he could still taste pressed on his closed eyelids
one after the other, before playfully kissing the tip of his nose. He opened
his eyes and blinked.
Cedric was smiling at him, that much he could see, and sounding extraordinarily
happy when he said, "It's good to know we're on the same page."
Harry smiled back. "Yeah."
"Hand in glove, so to speak," Cedric added. He replaced the glasses on Harry's
nose, then grinned down at Harry's right hand, still wearing his glove.
"You'll want this back, I guess?" Harry asked, blushing again. He was about to
apologize for having taken it in the first place, when he was silenced by
Cedric's next words.
"Only with your hand inside it."
Harry stared at him, and heat flooded not only his face but his entire body at
the expression on Cedric's face as he unzipped his own trousers, took Harry's
gloved hand, and guided it between the folds of fabric.
 
THE END
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