Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/452814.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/James_Potter
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, James_Potter, Sirius_Black
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sexual_Content, Dubious_Consent, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon,
      Anal, Oral, Fingering, Age_Difference
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-06 Words: 14208
****** Don't You Want Me? ******
by rightonthelimit
Summary
     Although he wouldn't like to admit it, there were other reasons that
     made him want to be around Harry. Other shameful, horrible things
     that no father should ever think of their child.
A/N: Please do not repost, recreate or translate.
                              Don't You Want Me?
These were difficult times, but there was no need to tell anyone. Everyone
already knew they were in a state of war; Lord Voldemort had regained his power
and attacked James' boy in his fourth year of Hogwarts and had used Harry's
blood in order to regain his body. Next to developing his own body, he had also
developed the habit of attacking and taking advantage of the link between Harry
and himself.
James was exhausted.
Had James been scared for his son's life? Yes. He had been devastated when he
saw Harry come out of the graveyard, the Triwizard cup in a trembling hand,
while his arms were wrapped around another contestant's body. The boy – Cedric
Diggory - had been dead, and his father had wailed and sobbed like a child, but
it hadn't been much different than what James felt like doing.
His boy faced the monster too often for his liking.
Of course, it had only been natural for James to run off the tribunes, wrap his
arms around his son so hard he could have sworn the teen's bones had protested.
Harry had sobbed into his shirt, repeating the same words over and over as he
was in an absolute state of shock.
'He's back, he's back, Voldemort is back, I saw mom, Cedric told me to take
back his body, dad, he's back, I can't…daddy, please…'
James had just held him. He was outraged, he was sad at hearing about the
illusion his son had seen of his deceased mother and friend, but most of all;
he was so happy he was still alive. His boy.
He had been very tempted to keep Harry from returning to Hogwarts ever again,
truthfully, and if it was up to James Harry would never even leave the house
unless he'd absolutely have to. He was all the family James still had, and even
though he had made up with Padfoot after finding out that it had been
Pettigrew's betrayal that had cost James his wife, it was not the same.
Something between them had broken and although Harry seemed to love Sirius,
James couldn't say the same anymore.
James felt shame for ever thinking Sirius had betrayed him, and he could tell
that Sirius himself was not comfortable with being around him simply because he
felt like it had been his own fault that Pettigrew had escaped.
James kicked his shoes off and undid his tie. It was summer, and he had looked
forward to spending it with Harry but it seemed like work was always getting in
the way. He had known from the moment he had become an Auror that the hours he
would spend working would be unruly.
Although he wouldn't like to admit it, there were other reasons that made him
want to be around Harry. Other shameful, horrible things that no father should
ever think of their child.
James had been slowly developing sexual feelings toward Harry. It was stupid,
it was wrong, it was shameful, but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help
but stare at his lips when he talked or look at his body when he just moved and
he couldn't help but appreciate his toned body whenever Harry would take his
shirt off while they were practicing Quidditch.
There were a lot of things James shouldn't be doing. Acknowledging these dark
feelings was one of them.
Thus, he didn't. Instead he just acted like the good father – and mother – he
was supposed to be now that Lily died and he had grown to become responsible in
these years. Harry was so much like him; the only differences between them were
their heights and how Harry had rather grown to like books in the years that
had passed.
But it was getting harder to keep an eye on Harry.
It was difficult coping with the girls that had grown to like Harry.
Admittedly, it had made him grow angry too when Harry wrote him a long time ago
about a girl suddenly having kissed him, yet it had made him relieved at
Harry's innocence. Harry had written that it was weird and that it had scared
him and he didn't understand why anyone would like to do that with their
tongue.
James had often fantasized on using his own tongue on Harry, to pleasure him in
a way no silly little girl ever could.
The women he himself tried to hook up with always had green eyes and black
hair. After Lily had died, he hadn't wanted to even think about another person.
He had loved her with all of his heart, but the way he loved Harry now felt so
different it made him grow so needy, so unsated no matter who he was with. He
didn't just love his boy with his heart; he loved him with his entire soul. His
body yearned for him. And it frightened him more than it should. Maybe this
felt more intense because it was so dark; so wrong.
'Dad?'
James turned his head around and his breath got stuck in his throat for a
moment when he just looked at Harry. His thoughts had been so sinful (too
sinful) that it was starting to get hard to look just at Harry without
automatically imagining things.
James forced himself to smile while Harry stood in the doorway.
'You're late,' Harry said with a small frown on his face, folding his arms over
his flat chest.
James was late, later than he had wanted and promised to be home, but he
couldn't bring himself to apologize when Harry was looking at him with that
look on his face.
He wanted to kiss him so badly.
James sunk down onto the couch and sighed, running a hand through his hair
while he felt a wave of shame wash over him again.
'There were complications at work,' James said and he popped the joints in his
neck, before he did the same with his fingers. His muscles were drawn tight and
he was physically and mentally drained.
He could hear Harry's bare feet pad over the wooden floor until the boy stood
right before him, in between him and the coffee table. His wobbly knees brushed
against James' clothed ones.
'Are you okay?' Harry said. James dragged his eyes over Harry's frame,
appreciating the short shorts Harry wore, up to his t shirt with the Gryffindor
crest, slowly up to his face. His lips were full and his cheeks were still
round with youth, but his cheekbones were slowly getting more defined. Still,
he looked young – too young for his age – and his hair was more of a mess than
James could remember his own ever having been. His eyes…
Against what other people thought, James didn't think he had Lily's eyes at
all. Harry's irises were lighter, almost a poisonous green color, resembling
the color of the spell that had rebounded that horrible night when James had
gone to Remus' house because Lily had forgotten Harry's blanket while Voldemort
had intruded their house and had left him with that scar… and his lashes were
thicker, darker. Framed by his arched eyebrows, he was beautiful.
His boy was honestly, too beautiful.
'Dad?'
Snapping back to reality, James blinked.
'I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier,' Harry said apologetically. He sucked
his bottom lip into his mouth and shit that should not make James' trousers
suddenly feel tighter.
'It's fine, Harry.'
'I made us dinner,' Harry offered, not seeming to trust his judgment, 'if you
want, I could go heat it up. I waited until you got home, so-'
'That would be nice, thank you,' James interrupted. He didn't feel like eating
at all, but he knew Harry had gone through the trouble of actually fixing them
something nice so the least he could do was show some appreciation.
Molly Weasley was very fond of Harry and Harry spent a lot of time at the
Burrow with his best friend Ron Weasley. James would like to believe that Harry
had asked Molly to teach him to cook because he thought it would come in handy,
but he knew that was not the case.
Harry did his best for James, for his approval. If it meant cooking and
cleaning the house – basically being a housewife – Harry would do it. James
knew that, but he thought that it wasn't necessary. Harry had more than his
approval already.
Harry looked at him with a small frown on his face for a bit longer before he
finally nodded and seemed to force himself to smile.
'Alright,' he said. He left the room and James closed his eyes and massaged his
temples with the tips of his fingers.
Shit.
He felt as though he was just as horrible as the people he sent to Azkaban.
Maybe he belonged there as well; he sure as hell deserved it for even thinking
about his son like that. Forwanting him like that…
He remembered the dream he had last night. He dreamed he had walked into
Harry's bedroom and just kissed him, just like that. Before he had known it,
Harry had had his lips wrapped tightly around James' cock and was sucking him
off so damn good, and he felt so much shame that he had jerked off to that
dream so hard his cock still felt sore in his pants.
'I want you inside of me, daddy, please…'
James pressed his hands against his face and leaned his elbows on his knees,
groaning. He hated himself, and even that seemed to be an understatement. He
was a pedophile. A fucking disgusting pedophile who should get his balls cut
off for even thinking about such things.
But he couldn't help himself.
Couldn't help that beside the immense shame there was a hint of excitement, a
sort of adrenaline if you might at the thought of what if.
'I made lasagna by the wa- dad?' Harry's hand landed on James' shoulder; he
hadn't heard him coming at all and James shot up to his feet, defensively
slapping his hand away. Harry cradled his hand with his other one and stared at
him with wide eyes, whereas James could feel his own eyes widening as well. He
instantly reached forward and grabbed Harry's wrist, inspecting his hand.
'I'm sorry,' he said as he felt shame wash over him again, 'you startled me, I-
'
'Dad, it's fine.'
Harry pulled away from James, but James somehow felt like he wasn't fine at
all. He followed the boy into the kitchen.
'Harry-'
'Could you set the table?'
James shot a strange look at the back of Harry's head before he reached in the
cupboard above Harry, pulling out plates and getting cutlery from a near
drawer. He is a teenage boy; he reminded himself, it's probably normal for him
to act like this. He doesn't know. You just startled him.
James set down the plates on the kitchen table and watched as Harry bent down
to get the lasagna – or whatever it was – out from the oven, unconsciously
tightening his fingers into fists and incapable of tearing his eyes away.
I should tear my eyes out, more like it.
Even as Harry was filling their plates – James' first, then his own, as usual –
and casually asked him if he wanted something to drink – 'No thank you' – there
was a sudden tension that made James anxious, for no good reason.
James complimented Harry on his cooking skills and Harry thanked him. They
continued eating in silence, even when Harry filled James' plate for the second
time, they didn't do as much as talk to each other. It was unnerving and a
sudden, terrifying thought came up to James; what if Harry knew Legillimency?
He dropped his fork and pressed a hand against his mouth. No, that couldn't be
it. No way.
But Snivelus had been forced to teach Harry Occlumency, hadn't he? What if he
had been told to teach him Legillimency? Harry had looked him straight in the
eye then, he had…
Oh God.
He could practically feel all the blood draining from his face while his heart
seemed to beat much faster than it should. Harry was disgusted with him, he
would leave James and he would be killed by Voldemort because he had been
running away from his father and James would never see him again and-
'Dad?'
James turned his wide brown eyes to Harry's, who stared at him in shock. He was
holding a glass of water in his hands and he sat it down in front of James.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
'Are you…' Harry stopped talking and frowned, before summoning parchment, ink
and a quill. James watched him scribble before he finally could bring himself
to speak.
'What are you doing?' he rasped. His knuckles were white; he had been holding
on to the table as though it was his last life line. Writing a letter to
Azkaban to ask them to come take James away where he could rot away in a cell,
where he belonged?
'Writing Sirius, to ask him to call your boss so you can take the day off
tomorrow. You can't…' Harry stopped writing and pressed a hand against James'
forehead, who still sat there, frozen, '…you can't go to work like this
tomorrow. You're scaring me.'
James blinked a couple of times.
'You- what?' he asked stupidly, still unsure if he wanted to cry from relief or
from self hate for getting in this situation in the first place.
'Dad,' Harry turned to him again with a sad look on his face, 'you've been
acting weird for weeks now. I'm worried.'
It seemed like Harry wanted to say something else as well, but in the end he
just sucked his bottom lip into his mouth (no James, don't you even think about
it!) and continued writing. As James willed his racing heart to calm down, he
finally gathered himself enough to place a gentle hand on Harry's wrist.
He forced himself to ignore how pleasant Harry's skin felt against his own, or
how easily Harry's wrist fitted in his hand and how easy it would be to pin
them above his head- 'I'm okay,' James said and he forced himself to smile,
'really, Harry. No need to worry your pretty head over me.'
Harry blinked at him in confusion and James' smile faltered when he realized
what he just said.
'Pretty?' Harry parroted, eyes still questioning and searching James' caramel
brown ones. James noted in his own mortification that Harry had a faint blush
on his pale cheeks, and it was very flattering.
'I…' his eyes searched all over the room, looking for a way out of this mess
and he suddenly shot up to his feet, pointing to the clock. With a wave of his
wand he dismissed the dishes and Harry stood up as well. 'Look at the time!'
James exclaimed with a nervous smile, 'well, I'm dead tired-' he faked a yawn
and watched as Harry's eyebrow rose- 'good night! Thanks for everything,
tomorrow I'll cook your favorite!'
James turned around and had the full intention of going back to his bedroom,
but stopped dead in his tracks when Harry's arms suddenly were around his waist
and the small boy pressed his face in between James' shoulder blades.
'Daddy, do you hate me?' he asked softly, sounding strangely hurt. James hadn't
heard Harry call him that in a long time; ever since Harry became a teenager
James had gone from 'daddy' to 'dad', and Harry hadn't hugged him in years. It
was unnerving, but most of all, it was confusing.
James hated how his body yearned to turn around and wrap its arms around Harry
and hold on longer than should be appropriate and stubbornly stayed in place.
'No Harry, I don't hate you,' he said. Far from it. He loved Harry more than a
father should, in several ways.
Harry's hands tightened in James' shirt, wrinkling the fabric and James frowned
in confusion.
'Then why do you avoid me? Why can't you look me in the eye, unless you
absolutely have to, dad? I… at first I thought it was because you thought I
look horrible, or because something is wrong with me, but-'
James turned around and lifted Harry's chin, staring down at him. He could
practically feel how he towered over Harry and it brought him a mixture of
satisfaction and worry; worry that he would intimidate Harry.
'Harry,' he said sternly. It was hard to keep from doing what he wanted most
when Harry looked so utterly lost, so eager for any show of love. James
sometimes forgot that even though he had always showered Harry with love and
attention and presents whenever he could, Harry was still scarred by his past.
He still needed a father even as he was 16 years old now; he needed to be
acknowledged. Some may say that Harry was even a bit needy every now and then,
but it made perfect sense to James.
Harry was afraid, after everything he had gone through that he wasn't good
enough. Being a teenager was hard enough; having to carry the burden of being
called The Chosen One and have the newspapers write horrible stories about you
was another thing.
'Harry,' he said again, noting the strange look in Harry's eyes as he stared up
at his father. His boy was damaged. It was something James hadn't realized, as
he had been too ashamed and mortified by his own feelings toward Harry, but as
he stared into those vivid green eyes that knowledge hit him so hard it made it
difficult for him to see him as any different than a little boy, reaching out
for his daddy.
'There is absolutely nothing you can do to make me hate you, ever,' he said.
His eyes momentarily glanced up at Harry's scar – the very cause of the
connection between Voldemort and Harry – before he looked at Harry again.
'Nothing. I am merely going through a…' he tried to find the right words, but
he found it difficult with Harry staring up at him and holding his arm, '…a
difficult time.'
'Then let me help you,' Harry instantly said, 'I want to help you, I don't like
seeing you like this-'
'You can't help me,' James instantly lied. He hated the hero complex Harry had
developed throughout the years; it had more than once almost cost the boy his
life, and now it was making James have a difficult time not to reach forward
and slam his lips against Harry's, whose lips now looked so plump and full.
Harry's hand dropped from James' wrist and the hurt look was back on his face.
'It's me,' he instantly said, 'you're having a problem because of me.'
James opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say.
His boy was too clever.
'I'm going to take a shower,' James forced himself to say eventually and he
fled from the room.
That look on Harry's face haunted him, even when he tried to sleep.
===============================================================================
'Daddy,' Harry whimpered as he wrapped his legs tightly around James' waist,
'daddy, please …'
James growled as he fisted both their cocks together, pressing his mouth
against Harry's, the boy eagerly bucking his hips up.
'I'm gonna fuck you so good,' James murmured against his lips. Half lidded
green eyes stared up at him, completely dilated. Yes, he wanted it so bad James
could nearly taste his need…
'T-then do it,' he stammered, clumsily kissing him, looking and acting so very
much like a teenager when he whimpered as James sped up his pace.
'Dad…'
'Dad? Dad! Wake up!'
James shot up and his forehead nearly slammed against Harry's, disorientated
and barely awake when he stared at Harry who looked at him with a worried
expression in his eyes. It took James a moment to fully realize he had been
dreaming, and his face felt hot and he was so hard and Harry was still staring
at him. He buried his face in his hands and released a long, drawn-out sigh.
'I'm up, I'm up,' he murmured. Harry had already opened his curtains and had
been waking him up so he wouldn't be too late for work, like he always did.
'Are…' Harry hesitated and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, not sure if he
should continue speaking. The teen swallowed thickly. 'I've made you toast,' he
said instead, and James lifted his head from where it had been resting in his
hands.
This was starting to get ridiculous. He was acting like he was James'
goddamn wife and James just felt so frustrated, all the time. 'Why are you
doing this, Harry? Aren't you supposed to be out with friends?'
The teen seemed taken aback by this and James' eyes strayed involuntarily at
the boy's parted lips, wanting to kiss them even if he knew he couldn't
– shouldn't. He felt so disgusted with himself.
'I- I thought… I mean, lately you seem so… you need someone to take care of
you,' the teen said and it felt like a stab to James' pride. To what was left
of it, anyways.
'I'm a grown man,' he said nonetheless, and just when he was about to reach out
for his glasses Harry already handed them over to him. 'Will you stop doing
this, Harry? You're not Lily, so stop acting like you're my wife!'
His own eyes widened at what he said and hurt instantly flashed in Harry's
eyes. The teen nodded tensely, and stood up from where he had sat on James'
bed.
'I thought you liked it,' he said softly, looking so much like a kicked puppy
that James had to force himself to not embrace him. 'I know I can't replace
mom, and it's my fault she died, but I… I thought that at least I could… I mean
we're family, aren't we? We're supposed to be there for each other. Make each
other feel good and happy.'
James' hazel eyes stared into Harry's for a while until the teen looked away,
lowering his head.
Make each other feel good.
Why did that make James' cock twitch underneath the sheets?
'I'm – I'm sorry,' Harry blabbered. 'I'll just…'
'Come here, Harry,' James said, willing his voice to be softer and more gentle
this time. The boy hesitantly nodded before he moved forward until his wobbly
knees were hitting the side of the bed, and when James patted the space next to
him he sat down.
James honestly resented himself – how he was so aware of how Harry swung his
legs back and forth a bit like the child he was and how hard he still was from
the mere thought of having Harry in this bed, next to him.
His hands shook, he realized, when he brushed a stray strand of hair from
Harry's eyes. It was an innocent gesture, one that every father should be
capable of making, but it made his lips grow dry when those eyes averted to him
and when Harry smiled nervously.
'You're beautiful, you know that?' he asked softly and Harry licked his lips as
if taunting James, fiddling a bit with the hem of his shirt.
'I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier.'
He hadn't had taken anyone home, fucked anyone in this bed ever since Lily had
died. He had always done it somewhere else – somehow feeling as if he'd defile
his family home if he'd bring in a whore he'd just use for the night.
But Harry was so much more. He was the very family James had created – a
perfect being created out of his first love and himself, combining both their
best traits. He was ideal, and he had raised him to become such a beautiful
human being.
'It's – it's okay,' Harry stammered, eyeing the hand that lingered on his
cheek. It was so smooth with youth, James realized, and he just couldn't seem
to be capable of tearing his hand away from his skin.
Before he was even fully aware of it, he was kissing Harry, tasting his lips
for the very first time in years – feeling how soft and plump they were and how
easily they parted for him. Maybe he wasn't even fully awake and maybe this was
all a dream – either way, his hands cradled the back of Harry's head and the
boy's mouth opened.
He tasted so strongly of toothpaste, probably having woken up not long before
James had and it made his entire body shiver with want. Harry released a soft
noise, and it brought James back to his senses. He pulled away from Harry's
lips as if burnt, and stared into wide green eyes that probably wore the same
shock written in his own eyes.
Oh shit. Oh shit oh god oh shit fuck dammit what have I done what –
Harry's cheeks slowly turned the prettiest shade of red and the boy brushed his
fingertips over his lips, as if he couldn't believe it had actually happened
and could feel the evidence there. In a way, James couldn't believe what he had
done either.
And despite his mortification, he still was so, so painfully hard.
'I'm so sorry,' he croaked, because he had never expected to act upon such
feelings. Harry's eyes turned to him again and looking at him was just so
unbearable that James pushed himself out of bed, murmured something about
taking a shower and all but fled from the room.
===============================================================================
The next time something similar to this happened, was exactly 2 days of tense
silences, confused glances and shy touches later.
It had been when Harry came home from Quidditch practice with his friends with
a bloodied knee. He hadn't even been too aware of it, really – only when he had
heard James' worried questions had he looked down and sheepishly smiled.
'It's just a cut,' Harry murmured, and he seemed a bit flustered when James
pushed him down on the couch nonetheless and kneeled at his feet, studying his
knee. He tried to ignore how Harry smelt of grass and sweat and how the scent
was so boyish and arousing, and focused more on summoning a rag to clean his
wound before grabbing his wand.
'Episkey,' he said, and he watched as Harry's knee healed, skin flawless and
pale. And he was again wearing those goddamn shorts, and James was suddenly
painfully aware of how close he was to his thighs, and how they were slightly
parted.
He could slowly feel his own eyes trail up, almost on their own accord, and he
finds Harry's cheeks flushed again, his bottom lip caught in between pearly
white teeth and his green, green eyes boring right into his.
And he really should get up and excuse himself like he had done before when he
felt he was close to losing his control again, because he knew that this time,
he wouldn't just stop with one kiss. He knew that, because his body, his
very being just seemed to ache so much, seemed to hunger so much for this
pretty boy in front of him and…
'Dad,' Harry murmured, like he had done so often in James' dreams, and James
closed his eyes and turned his head away as if blocking out his very being
would make his presence more bearable. But it wasn't, and everything was just
so unfair. Even if the Wizarding community wasn't against incest as much as the
muggle community was, it still felt so horrible. This was his boy he was
fantasizing about – the boy whose first word had been dada, a boy who had
inherited his Seeker talents, a boy who had lost his mother at such a tender
age…
'Daddy, look at me,' Harry asked, and James did that because he knew that he
couldn't deny Harry anything, even if he would want to. He just couldn't.
Couldn't touch Harry against his own will, couldn't deny Harry a new broomstick
or whatever it was that he wanted – couldn't deny Harry his full attention
because he already had all of it.
They were almost nose to nose, and their close proximity made James' breath
hitch in desire. His grip on Harry's knee tightened and Harry just kept staring
at him, as though he was the most fascinating thing in the world.
And Harry really needed to stop doing that.
'I should-'
'Kiss me. Please, kiss me.'
James' eyes widened in disbelief of what he was hearing, of what he was feeling
when Harry's hand suddenly rested on his shoulder.
'I – no, Harry,' he argued weakly when he finally found his voice, 'last time
was a mistake, and I'm sorry – I shouldn't have done it, I really shouldn't
have-'
'You want me, don't you?' and where had Harry learned to talk with such
confidence in his voice? He swallowed thickly but didn't say a word. 'That's
why you've been weird lately. You want me and last time you lost control. Just
take it- whatever it is. I want things to be okay between us.'
James stared at Harry in shock.
Of course. Harry was always trying to take care of him, and James wasn't sure
if it was affection he felt so strong in his chest or mortification at Harry
having figured it all out. Still, he smiled nervously.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' he lied, but they both knew exactly
what Harry had been talking about.
'Do you think of me when you…' Harry bit his lip again and Harry felt a tremor
go through him, 'when you touch yourself?'
'Harry,' James snapped, or at least tried to – it came out as a breathy groan
that made the teen's eyelashes flutter. Harry licked his lips eagerly.
'B-because I do. And at- at first it scared, me, but then I realized it was o-
okay, because-'
'Harry!'
Harry gasped, and James forced himself up on his shaky knees, using their
height difference to tower over Harry.
'I'm sorry,' Harry instantly said, and he looked away and started fiddling with
the hem of his shirt. James opened his mouth, but didn't say a word. Maybe this
was for the better – to put some distance between them both. Maybe this would
work.
So instead he nodded slowly and watched as Harry pushed himself up, glanced at
him nervously before he left the living room and trudged up the stairs.
The worst about this all was that the thought of Harry touching himself wasn't
at all unappealing, and that the fact that Harry pretty much told James that he
wanted him just as bad, made it all the harder for James to keep from doing
what he wanted to do so badly.
===============================================================================
By the time Harry came downstairs it was late and James was drunk. He had
started drinking Firewhiskey after 9 pm and hadn't stopped until 12.30 – the
exact moment when Harry stepped into the living room. The teen stumbled a bit
in the dark as James hadn't had bothered with turning any lights on – a soft
'Lumos' reached his ears and he blinked a bit in the light.
'Dad?' the teen murmured and that somehow was just the final straw to James. He
frowned to himself and stood up from where he had been slumped on the couch,
staggering on his feet.
Merlin, he had drunk so much his vision swam a bit. But that didn't stop that
irrational need to just touch Harry. He looked so pretty as he stood there,
blinking a bit in confusion.
'Are you drunk?' the boy asked and James shrugged.
'What if I am?' he asked. The boy sighed and stepped to him.
'Nothing, but you need to go to bed.'
He stepped forward, as though this afternoon had never happened, as though he
hadn't admitted to touch himself to the thought of his father touching him, and
James could feel himself frown when Harry lifted James' arm and draped it over
his shoulder.
'Come on,' he murmured, and he smiled softly, innocently at him.
'What are you doing?' James asked, or rather slurred. Harry didn't reply, and
he instead just started moving them out of the living room into the hallway.
James dragged his feet over the cold floor, eyes boring into the side of
Harry's face. His cheeks were flushed.
'There – careful,' Harry said, keeping James from tripping over the stairs.
James grunted something in reply, humiliated at having let himself go this far
and frustrated, just so frustrated with everything. With the way Harry's hair
smelt of soap and how the boy was shorter than him and how long his eyelashes
were, and how the faint blush on his cheeks complimented his pale skin just so
much.
Harry guided him into his bedroom and James found himself still fisting Harry's
shirt after the boy had lowered him to his bed.
'Why are you doing this to me?' he whispered, and he winced at how pathetic he
sounded. Harry's green eyes blinked at him.
'Because I don't want you to wake up with a sore neck,' he said as if it should
be clear as day, and it was just so unfair. This entire situation was. The way
Harry worried his bottom lip in between his pearly white teeth, was.
How Harry leaned down and shyly, innocently brushed his lips against James'
was. It was almost cruel and James just couldn't keep himself from pulling the
boy, his boy down on top of him and sliding his tongue in between his plump
lips; hearing him mew. One of his hands rested on the small of Harry's back,
while the other gently ran through his hair. Their glasses got in the way and
Harry fumbled with them – taking his off and tossing them in a random direction
and not even once pulling away from the lips he was kissing so desperately.
Harry whimpered when they broke apart for air, and he was staring down at James
with an eager look in his eyes.
And it just was so, so cruelly unfair.
'Go to bed, Harry,' James ordered him, and Harry made that whimpering noise
again, and pressed his hips against James' hips. Typical, and so boyishly – how
hard Harry had become from just a kiss.
'Please don't send me away,' Harry asked and he sounded so desperate and he
didn't even seem to mind about how wrong this all was, how drunk James was. How
James would regret this in the morning.
'Go to bed,' James repeated, and Harry whined and leaned down to press his lips
against James'.
'Please,' Harry whispered. His fingers were quivering while they fumbled with
James' glasses, and his inexperienced hips rubbed rather awkwardly against
James'. When James pressed his leg up in the hopes of putting some distance in
between the two of them, all that did was give Harry something to rut against
to.
Like a puppy, James thought vaguely, watching and absolutely fascinated with
the little keening noises Harry made and how his face was completely flushed.
His hair was even messier than usual, courtesy to James running his hand
through it.
'You need to…'
'Kiss me, please, kiss me – touch me, anything, please dad,' Harry babbled and
somewhere in between, James just completely lost it. The sight of him, the
smell of him, the touch of him… it was just too much. He flipped their
positions and Harry yelped loudly in surprise, but James didn't really pay any
attention to it and fumbled with the button of Harry's jeans. Harry gasped and
shivered, and James sneered and finally just ripped it open; sending the button
flying. His hand reached into Harry's boxers and Harry gasped and said
something, but he really didn't hear. There was too much blood pumping through
his ears, to his own cock for him to truly comprehend anything but the fact
that Harry was underneath him in the bed where he had spent way too much time
touching himself to the mere thought of it.
His fingers wrapped easily around Harry's cock and the boy whimpered ('') and
he fisted him hard and rough, leaning down and kissing him hard on the lips.
'Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?' he sobbed into Harry's mouth
when the teen grabbed his shoulders and spread his legs a bit further, hips
eagerly thrusting up in the hopes of getting more friction and reveling in the
moans and whimpers and keens that he received when he dug his thumb into the
head, 'do you have any idea how wrong this is?'
Harry shook his head, because he didn't know, probably couldn't understand even
if he wanted to at the moment, because James realized that this may very well
be Harry's first sexual experience with anyone else. And the thought of it… it
just sent shivers down his spine. To be capable of marking his own boy – it
made him feel so goddamn possessive and protective and disgusted with himself
and it made him want to cry.
But he didn't.
Instead he sucked on a spot on Harry's neck and ignored how painfully hard he
was in favor of focusing on getting his boy off. It was his own way of
punishing himself, and he promised himself he would just allow himself to do
this, nothing else, nothing more, because that would be too much and that would
go too far. No matter how hard Harry would try, how Harry would look…
'O-oh! Dad!'
And then Harry was coming and James took his distance, squeezing Harry and
milking him for what he was worth, watching as he came so hard some of it
splattered on his own chin and watching that pretty, pretty mouth (soft plump
lips swollen from kissing James, and only James) open in an 'o' shape and how
his eyebrows scrunched together, his green eyes wide.
And he just looked so beautiful coated in cum.
James' entire body was trembling, and Harry slumped against the bed, his tired
eyes already slipping shut. It was like James had completely sobered up and he
suddenly realized exactly in what kind of a position he was.
He was sitting on top of his 16 year old son with the boy's softening cock in
his fist and his cum drying on his hand, and Harry was wearing a sleepy smile
on his face.
And what bothered him most was that all he worried about now was that he
wouldn't be capable of keeping his hands to himself since Harry seemed
extremely comfortable in James' bed.
In the bed where James had impregnated Lily.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think too much of it, and he instead raised
his hand to his face and stared at the liquid covering it with some sick sort
of fascination to it, before licking it off. It was the first time he actually
tasted cum – someone else's, that is. It was a bit salty, but other than that
it didn't really hold any taste. Still, he found himself licking his entire
hand clean and without even thinking about it he licked Harry's belly clean
from where his shirt had ridden up, slowly moving up and licking his chin clean
as well.
Harry hummed sleepily and he cracked one tired green eye open when James
started tugging on his shirt.
'Lift your arms,' James murmured, and he was surprised at how pliant Harry was.
He even sat up and took his shirt off on his own, and his eyes raked over
James' form.
'What about…' the teen trailed off, and he had a bit of a blush on his face
when he glanced at James' crotch. Harry shook his head and sighed.
'It's fine,' he replied, because he supposed that denying himself to experience
any pleasure out of this would be a good punishment. The teen nodded and took
off his shorts, tucking himself back into his boxers with an embarrassed look
on his face. James stripped to his underwear as well and lied down on the bed,
again surprised at how Harry all but nuzzled his chest.
'Harry?'
Harry hadn't slept in this bed since… he couldn't remember, actually. When he
had been really young, about 5 years old, he would sometimes crawl into bed
with James, when he had been having bad dreams.
'Can I sleep here?' the teen asked, but he didn't seem to be planning on moving
even if James would want him to leave. James released a long sigh and pressed
his face into Harry's hair.
'Fine,' he murmured in a defeated tone. Harry sighed and nodded, lifting James'
arm and draping it over himself so James would be holding him. Harry fell
asleep right away.
James watched him sleep for a while, before his eyelids began feeling heavy as
well.
===============================================================================
It didn't happen again, but the tension was so very much there that James was
even more on edge than usual. Harry kept staring at him, kept smiling at him,
but he didn't say a word about touching himself while thinking of James or
even tried touching James. But his looks said enough – he was waiting for James
to make the first move. And he seemed more and more desperate for it by each
passing day - James only had a few days left before Harry would be leaving for
another year at Hogwarts.
James wondered if that was because he was the adult, or because he was James'
father and was supposed to always know all the answers to the questions Harry
might ask.
James pretended to be unaware of it and he played a bit with his food instead,
feeling… well, like a teenager, really. And he had been replaying the scene
over and over in his head, could remember clearly how warm he had felt with
waking up next to Harry despite it being summer and despite having one of the
worst hangovers of his life.
It wasn't just that Harry seemed to be so horribly eager for his touch that
made James just so goddamn frustrated all the time.
It were those flustered looks Harry would send him every now and then, like he
was doing now. Harry was sucking on his bottom lip and glancing at James from
under his eyelashes, looking at James like he was the most fascinating thing in
the world. Looking at him like there was nothing in the world that he loved
more than James. He would've been capable of handling it if Harry hadn't loved
him, and if he himself hadn't hungered for Harry and loved him so much as well.
'Do you like it?' Harry asked, and James glanced up from where he had just
stuck his fork into his mouth. He slowly nodded and Harry released a relieved
sigh.
'Mrs Weasley gave me the recipe.'
'You did a great job,' James complimented him, though he couldn't really
remember a time where he hadn't liked or eaten something that Harry had
prepared for the both of them. James could remember how Harry let everything
get burnt by accident when he had started cooking and how he had still eaten
it, always giving Harry the courage to keep trying.
Harry smiled tensely and nodded, his own plate already empty. He watched James
eat and it was unnerving, making James wish he hadn't been playing with his
food before. His jaw worked slowly and when he ran his tongue over his lips
when he was finished, Harry released a soft whimper.
James instantly dropped his fork and pushed himself up.
'I'll do the dishes,' he said, even if he could make the dishes wash
themselves. Harry looked at him in surprise before the boy nodded, seeming to
wake up from whatever thought he had been having. Harry pushed himself up and
placed the cutlery and plates into the sink, and James pushed up his sleeves.
He said nothing about the use of magic, either.
Harry lingered in the kitchen before he finally left and walked into the living
room, and James released a long drawn out breath. God, but if he had thought he
had been tense before getting a taste of Harry….
He scrubbed their plates for five minutes, even if they had already been
spotless after one minute and washed the soap off his hands, shivering a bit.
Did Harry even know what he was offering and what kind of a life they would
have to lead if James would accept said offer?
He walked into the living room and Harry's eyes instantly snapped up to him,
following him as James sat down on the couch while Harry kept seated in the
loveseat next to it. they remained silent for a good couple of minutes – James
trying to read the Daily Prophet while Harry's eyes just kept boring into his
head. Every time he glanced at Harry from the corner of his eyes, Harry just
innocently kept looking back, as if he had no clue what it was doing to James.
James released a long sigh when both the silence and the staring got too much
for him to handle.
'Harry.'
Harry's head instantly perked up at the sound of his voice and the boy
instantly stood up when James patted the couch with a defeated sigh. 'Come sit
with me.'
'On your lap?'
James opened his mouth, ready to refuse him, but then he remembered the look on
Harry's face when he had left bed that morning without having been capable of
looking him in the eye. Deciding that it wouldn't do either one of them harm,
he slowly nodded and Harry smiled when James leaned back a bit to give him more
space to sit down. When he did, James hesitated, unsure of how to start up the
conversation. Harry seemed perfectly content and even leaned back, grabbed
James' wrists and made him wrap his arms around him like he had done that
night.
James sighed again and rested his forehead against Harry's neck, allowing
Harry's fingers to wrap around his.
'Are you excited for the upcoming school year?' he asked, because he didn't
know what else to ask. He used to hate that question when he had been Harry's
age. Adults always asked about school to avoid awkward silences and the like.
 
'Hmm. Yeah, kinda. Dunno – it'll be nice to be back in the castle and see my
friends but I'm not really looking forward to the rest. I'm gonna miss you.'
James lifted his head and leaned it on Harry's shoulder, frowning a bit. Harry
was usually always excited to go to Hogwarts, and James wondered if Harry was
knowingly poking at James' self control.
'I could… visit you. In Hogsmeade,' he hesitantly offered and Harry grinned at
him.
'That'd be cool,' Harry instantly replied and he pecked James on the lips.
'Thanks, dad.'
James' froze at the seemingly innocent gesture, and his eyes lingered on
Harry's lips even after he pulled away, fighting the urge to pull him closer
again. He was suddenly too aware of how comfortable Harry seemed in his lap,
and how close his ass was to James' clothed cock.
'Harry, you need to stop doing this,' James finally said and the teen blinked
at him, seeming to have trouble understanding why any of it was wrong. James
had a hard time reminding himself as well, when they both seemed to want each
other so bad.
No. He was supposed to be responsible.
'Why?'
'This… it's incest, Harry. Do you know how bad that is? And to top that, we're
two men – well, I'm a man, you're still a boy…'
'I'm an adult in a year, dad,' Harry said with a frown on his pretty face.
James nodded, but that didn't make him feel any more at ease. If anything, that
just made him worry more. Harry would have to move out one day, live on his
own, without James' constant protection…
'I just think it would be best if you would… you know, find a nice girl, and
start a family of your own so we could both pretend nothing happened. Or a boy,
if you really are gay-'
'But I don't want anyone else. I want you.'
Harry shifted and all but straddled James now, frowning down at him. James
stared up at him, too aware of how Harry had a couple of freckles on his
cheekbones. Lily used to have freckles, too.
'Harry, you're young,' James tried to reason with him, 'things that you think
will last forever don't necessarily will, and-'
'You love me, don't you?' Harry interrupted him and he caught James off guard.
He blinked slowly, stupidly, before he nodded. And Harry nodded as well.
'And I love you too,' Harry stated rather certainly, 'so I don't
understand why, if we both want it, you're trying to push me away. Do I disgust
you? Am I not good-looking enough or is my hair too messy, or are my glasses-'
'Harry. Stop.' Harry did as told, for once, but he still kept frowning at James
and James doubted he had seen the boy this frustrated with him before.
'Please don't be angry with me,' James said in a softer voice and he leaned his
forehead against Harry's collarbone with another sigh. He had been doing that a
lot lately, and he tried to ignore how a pleasant shiver went through him when
Harry's hands threaded through his hair. 'Just everything, the entire
Voldemort-situation, you having lost your mother… I just don't think it would
be a wise thing to do.'
Harry's hands stopped and James lifted his head to look at Harry.
'I don't think this is about us being family at all,' Harry slowly murmured as
he stared into James' eyes, 'I think you're afraid that you'll lose me. Like
you lost mom.'
James didn't reply to that and Harry stood up again, crossing his arms over his
flat chest. Those words struck something incredibly sensitive inside of James,
and James didn't know how to react to them. 'We both know that incest isn't
that big of a deal in the Wizarding Community. Lots of people – purebloods – do
it. But is that it? The whole boy-who-lived thing?'
James huffed and leaned back into the couch, turning his head away. 'Of course
it bothers me,' he admitted softly, 'I'm terrified every year you leave.
Why shouldn't I? A fucking dark lord wants to kill you. And he has an army,
Harry, I just…'
'You're a coward.'
James' eyes widened and Harry kept staring at him with an angry look in his
eyes. 'You're so afraid of losing me that you keep pushing me away, but you
know what? If you keep doing that then I'll be gone one day and you'll
be alone. And yeah, I might die. But that's exactly why I told you how I felt
about you. Because I want you to know before I did, and because I wanted to
take chances before it may be too late.'
'Harry-'
'No, you listen to me. I've been frustrated, upset, hurt for the past few weeks
and it pissed me off! And if you think you can take away my only chance at
being loved by someone, byyou, then you're insane because I won't let you!'
Harry scowled at him and abruptly turned around and stalked out of the room,
slamming his bedroom door shut after stomping up the stairs.
James blinked, staring at the spot where Harry had stood before.
===============================================================================
Harry was tossing things in his trunk when James knocked on his door a couple
of hours later. The sun was setting, and Harry's lights had already been
switched on. There was a faint orange glow on Harry's skin, making his eyes
stand out even more than usual.
'Come in,' Harry murmured, his shoulders tense as he walked around in his room
and turned his back to James while going through his closet and fishing out his
Hogwarts robes. James sighed and sat down next to the trunk, folding the
clothes Harry had tossed in rather carelessly.
'Do you need to go to Diagon Alley?' he asked and Harry shook his head.
'I went yesterday, with Ron.'
James nodded, and watched as Harry bent down next to his nightstand and opened
his drawers, grabbing the case for his glasses.
'Harry, come here for a second.'
'Can it wait? I'm kinda busy.'
'I – yeah, of course,' James stammered, and he helped Harry when he had some
trouble closing his trunk.
'I got it, dad,' Harry murmured and he seemed a bit irritated though James
didn't understand why. Well, actually he kind of did.
What was it about Harry that made him feel less than the man he was?
Harry finally closed his trunk off with a loud click and he sighed and ran a
hand through his hair, messing it up further. When James placed his hands on
Harry's lithe hips in a sudden surge of courage, Harry's eyes widened and his
green eyes instantly snapped to him.
'I've thought about what you said,' James said softly and his thumbs rubbed the
skin underneath Harry's shirt, making the boy shiver. What Harry had told him…
it had really hit home. Maybe besides the feeling of it being so wrong, James
had been holding back out of fear. Fear for commitment? No, that seemed quite
silly since he already knew he would never leave Harry. Then maybe the fact
that nothing would ever be the same again, that this was something that he
would either regret for the rest of his life or enjoy…
'You were right, Harry. I'm sorry I treated you like this – I've been
childish.'
Harry's eyebrows knitted together, and he didn't seem to be capable of deciding
whether or not something was off. James licked his lips and nodded to himself.
'Are we okay now?'
Harry sighed and placed his hands on top of James', glancing at his trunk and
then back at him.
'I'll think about it,' he said, but his voice wasn't angry and James could feel
himself grin.
'Alright.'
He patted Harry's shoulder after standing up, and Harry grabbed his wrist.
'Where are you going?' he asked and James frowned at him.
'I was planning on taking a shower and then heading to bed,' James said. Harry
scowled. 'What is it this time?'
'We didn't talk about us,' Harry snapped at him and James' eyes narrowed.
'Harry, I am your father. Treat me with some respect,' he snapped back at him,
inwardly wincing. Just when he thought things were getting better… Harry huffed
and let go of James' wrist, sitting down on the bed with a dark look on his
pretty face. James released a frustrated noise and ran his hands through his
hair before levitating Harry's trunk off his bed and plopping down next to him.
'Harry, I can't do this,' James finally said and the teen just kept glaring at
him.
'Can't or won't?'
'I-' Won't. Definitely won't. Because I swear I can barely keep myself from
reaching forward and kissing that small crease between your eyebrows and make
you smile again. 'We just shouldn't.'
'Why can't we try? Just once?'
'Try what, Harry?' James said and he realized his voice got that desperate tone
again. Harry always made him desperate, always made him so…
'S-Sex,' Harry stammered and he lowered his eyes, a faint pretty blush on his
high cheekbones, 'I… maybe it'll clear our minds. Help us settle things.'
'No,' James instantly said even if that dark, disgusting hidden part of himself
that had yearned for Harry's touch for way too long purred somewhere in the
back of his mind.
James' refusal didn't keep Harry away at all – it just made Harry more
determined to convince him. The teen leaned forward with a frown on his lips
and James realized that his own body didn't move away like it should, and he
wondered when he had lost control of his hands. One of his hands was suddenly
resting on Harry's thigh, and the other was resting on his cheek. Harry's
eyelids fluttered and he just looked so pretty, and James felt an excited
shiver run down his spine when Harry pressed his lips shyly against his own.
Just once…
Harry's mouth was pliant, and it opened almost instantly when James' tongue
brushed at the seam of them. The boy moaned softly, and the clumsy way his
hands got in between the two of them like they did last time to take off his
glasses and his inexperience strangely only seemed to turn on James more.
He was going to hell. There was no point in denying.
They broke apart, and he allowed Harry to suck in a deep breath, lips trailing
down to his neck instead and becoming frustrated with the boy's shirt. Harry
whimpered and dug his fingers in James' shirt when he pulled away, as if he was
terrified James would leave him.
'Harry, we can't…'
'You're the only one I've wanted this bad,' Harry murmured and he tightened his
grip on James. James stopped and lifted his head, a bit shocked at the
certainty in Harry's eyes. It reminded him of how goddamn stubborn he was – how
stubborn James always had been.
'Lift up your arms,' James said and the sound of his own voice surprised him.
He couldn't remember the last time it had been this rough, this low and thick
with lust. And maybe it was just so easy for him to give in, to let Harry brush
off all of his protests as senseless because he had wanted this for so long.
Had ached for it, for too long.
Harry did as told, and he shivered when James lifted his shirt over his head
and pushed him down on the bed, leaning over him and just touching him and it
was fucking glorious. The Harry in his dreams had never whimpered this close to
his ear, had never shyly tugged at his shirt and the skin of the Harry in his
dreams had never tasted this good or felt this warm. He had been drunk last
time and he could barely remember it, and he resented that. It shouldn't have
been like that. He should've fought Harry harder.
But then again, he wasn't exactly pushing Harry away this time either.
His hands ran over Harry's sides and he watched as Harry's flat belly quivered,
his nipples begging to be tugged on and bitten and just caressed. Slowly,
almost experimentally, James dragged his fingertips up and Harry whimpered when
they came in contact with one of his pink nipples.
'What do you want me to do, Harry?' James murmured, wanting to hear Harry's
voice, hear if he became breathless of would just simply speak in a darker tone
like James when he was aroused. Harry sucked on his bottom lip and sat up,
seeming to have trouble deciding before he pressed his lips against James'.
Ofcourse.
James had almost forgotten that Harry absolutely had no idea what he had been
offering to James – had no clue of what he was supposed to do or say. But
strangely, that only made the entire situation just so…
At the moment, James didn't even really think about the fact that they were
father and son. He was just so lost, so out of it, and Harry – Harry actually
had the audacity to moan into his mouth like he didn't know what it did to
James. Or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to taunt James.
'J-James…'
James froze completely, and when he looked Harry in the eye the teen sucked his
bottom lip into his mouth, lips completely swollen from kissing. And somehow it
was just so wrong to hear Harry say his name, and he didn't know why his name
of all things made him stop, but it made Harry whine in need and thrust his
hips up eagerly, too eagerly.
'Please don't stop,' Harry pleaded him, and James blinked at him.
'Just don't call me that anymore,' James replied and he slowly started kissing
Harry's neck again. Harry shivered and ran his hands through James' hair.
'Sorry- I just wanted to try it.'
James hummed and sucked on a particular interesting spot on Harry's collarbone,
where one of James' other marks were almost healed.
'It's fine.'
Maybe he just needed a confirmation that he was actually doing this with Harry
and not some whore that he had picked up at a local bar. Which was fucked up,
and completely messed up and just wrong in all possible ways, but at the same
time… He kissed his way down Harry's chest, and Harry shivered when James
reached his belly button and kissed him there.
He could remember the doctors asking him if he had wanted to cut the umbilical
cord when Harry had been born.
He nipped at Harry's sharp hipbone and Harry shivered again.
And James just couldn't believe he was actually going to do it. Or could he?
Could he really do this and live with the fact that he had taken his son's
virginity?
James fumbled with Harry's button – goddamn buttons – and unzipped his pants,
pulling it down. Harry was kind enough to raise his hips and help him take it
off, his boxers following. And then James was facing another cock for the first
time in his life. It was pale, and not as veiny as James' own was – but it was
flushed pink and his balls were already drawn tight.
Maybe he hadn't had sex with men before because it had been a step closer to
admitting to himself that he had wanted Harry in this way. And although he
wasn't intimidated (far from it, truly) he just stared for a moment, until
Harry shifted, probably uncomfortable. James didn't blame him.
The first time he had had sex with some Gryffindor girl at Hogwarts he had been
pretty mortified.
He lowered his eyes and kissed Harry's thigh, and Harry sighed, spreading his
legs slightly as he wasn't completely clueless. James had always liked Harry's
thighs. They were smooth and soft, and slightly paler than the rest of his body
because he usually covered them up. He supposed that that was exactly why he
liked them so much, just like he loved Harry's flat belly. They were beautiful
parts of Harry that Harry had always kept hidden from view for anyone but
James.
Precious.
He bit down a bit, hard enough to leave a mark, and he heard Harry gasp. From
the corner of his eye he could see that he was fisting the sheets tight enough
to make his knuckles turn white and James rested one of his hands on top of
them, squeezing his wrist gently, reassuringly.
He kissed up and his cheek bumped into Harry's cock again, and he listened as
Harry made a soft noise that he wasn't sure of how to describe. It wasn't quite
a sob, but it wasn't a moan either.
But it was a sound that went straight to James' manhood, making it twitch
painfully in his own pants.
He kissed the tip and felt it twitch, and it was just so cute. He had been
sucked off enough times to know what to do, to know what he liked to happen to
himself, and he couldn't possibly imagine that pleasing a teenage boy would be
difficult.
Which wasn't, because Harry inhaled a sharp breath at just that simple touch
and it made James smile when he wrapped his lips around it, sucking
gently. Harry moaned from above him, and it only spurred him on to suck harder,
the effort making his cheeks hollow. He slid his hand up and his fingertips
brushed against Harry's lips, and Harry sucked them into his mouth without any
need to be told to do so.
James found that he liked sucking cock – or at least Harry's.
It was silly that he was a grown man and was learning something by doing it
with a teenage boy, but… it was just that the weight of Harry's manhood on his
tongue, his taste, his smell, the noises Harry was making… it was too much.
He hummed around Harry's cock and Harry sobbed around his fingers, nearly
biting down. And James realized that he could just do this all day – pleasure
his boy, make him make those ridiculously delicious noises and just taste him.
But he was aching. His entire body was trembling with the need for more, to be
inside of him. To…
He pulled away and Harry whimpered again, this time in loss. James removed his
fingers from Harry's mouth and just stared at him for a moment, all flushed and
lips swollen from kissing (from being wrapped around James' fingers) and skin
all but glowing in perspiration. For a moment, he just smeared Harry's saliva
all over the boy's lips, making them shine before he dipped them back into
Harry's mouth.
Fuck.
He could barely keep away. Couldn't stop himself from running his fingertips
over Harry's straight teeth before sliding over the boy's slick tongue, pushing
in further. And Harry just took them – staring at James with an intense look in
his eyes while he spread his legs further, the blush on his face the only
indication that he was ashamed to be in this kind of position.
But he looked so amazing. So beautiful.
He pulled his fingers away from Harry's mouth and leaned down, nipping at the
center of Harry's chest. Right now they weren't James and Harry Potter.
They were just two persons, who only truly had each other to hold, love and
only they would understand one another completely, having gone through almost
the exact same things, lost the same people, and loved each other in the exact
same way. As more than family.
As lovers.
James lifted Harry's legs and then he was fully spread out and ohmygod.
He just stared. And really, genitals weren't attractive by all means – but here
Harry was, trembling a bit but completely trusting James with his body, and his
cute cock was hard and his entrance was pink and his balls were drawn tight and
just knowing that James was allowed to touch and take
and markIwanttomarkhimsobad – and James was so hard he ached with the strain he
was putting on himself to keep from just shoving himself into Harry because he
just looked so beautiful.
Still, there is that still rational part inside of him and he pauses, catching
how Harry's toes twitched and how Harry was struggling to look him in the eye,
the only thing that was keeping him to shy away, snap his thighs shut was his
stubborn Gryffindor nature.
His slick fingers ran over the back of Harry's thighs again and Harry shivered,
staring up at him expectantly.
'Are you sure, Ha-'
'Dad,' Harry said, and his voice had that tone it usually took on when James
said something that embarrassed him, and James wondered at that. He glanced
back into Harry's green,green eyes and licked his lips.
And then he slid a finger into Harry, and it was tight and hot and Harry winced
and clenched even tighter around him, his virgin entrance quivering a bit
around James.
'Merlin,' James sobbed, not sure if he was sickened with how aroused he was or
just so far gone that he had lost all common sense. Harry whined and shifted a
bit as the appendage slowly moved in and out of him, and James just added
another finger, a third perhaps a bit too soon because Harry made a pained
noise. He cooed and nuzzled Harry's temple, trying to comfort him. He realized
that he hadn't even shed his own clothes, but Harry's warmth seemed to seep
through the fabric of them anyways. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of
Harry's hair, curling his fingers inside of Harry.
And then Harry released the prettiest sound and James' eyes widened at the
sound of it.
'Oh God,' Harry moaned, 'oh daddy, please-more.'
And he was actually begging James to get inside of him and it was so much more
than James had ever expected reality to offer him. James pulled his fingers out
and Harry's entrance clenched on thin air, quivering. Harry's hands were at
James' shirt and he was pulling, tugging, babbling things James didn't fully
comprehend.
'Your- your clothes,' James finally heard, 'please, I need you to… need your…'
'Yes,' he instantly replied and he practically tore his own clothes off,
Harry's eager hands helping him. Their mouths met as well – kissing hungrily
and eagerly and clumsily, their teeth clashing a bit when James struggled to
get his pants off. Harry moaned against his lips and fisted his hair, and when
James finally kicked his pants and underwear off he pulled away, breathless.
'Dad,' Harry murmured impatiently. James nodded, mind in a haze. He spread
Harry's legs apart and placed them over his own shoulders, nipping at Harry's
knee. His cock bumped into Harry's eager entrance and Harry looked up at him
expectantly, and he smiled.
'I love you,' James said softly, 'do you know that?'
And it was the corniest thing to say at the moment, but it was so true it
sometimes made his chest ache at how much he worried and thought about and
cared for this boy. And he was just so perfect, allowing James to do this to
him, wanting James to do this to him and always just trying to make James so
happy.
He was amazing.
'I-I know,' Harry stammered, shifting nervously when James' manhood pressed
harder against his entrance, his thighs quivering a bit. James ran his hands
over them, taking a steadying breath and nodding.
And then he started pushing inside of Harry.
James closed his eyes and braced his hands next to Harry's head, practically
folding him in half – god he was so flexible and hot and tight and the
disgusting perverted monster purred deep inside of him because his boy was -
 perfectperfectperfect – and his entire body trembled with the effort to remain
still. Harry panted next to his ear and James honestly understood that Harry
would have to adjust – to his father's cock, Harry was taking James up the ass
and it was fucking glorious and James felt no regrets at this particular moment
– but…
'Ngh, dad…'
'I know, baby, I know,' and the endearment had left his lips before he had even
realized it. And if it had bothered Harry, he just didn't say something.
Couldn't say anything, because he was trying to get used to the new things he
was feeling, and James dug his fingers in the sheets, carefully rocking back
and forth to stretch Harry more.
Harry moaned softly and his eyes fluttered shut, his arms wrapping around
James' shoulders. And James needed it, wanted it so bad. He wanted to move and
thrust and just make Harry scream and another tremor went through his body when
Harry murmured something ('Move, please, more') and he complied, experimentally
pulling out 'till just the tip of his manhood was inside of Harry because
pulling out completely was just something he couldn't bring up to do, and then
slowly sliding inside of Harry again.
Harry groaned and his toes twitched again, while James slowly built up a pace.
He was gasping and moaning and panting, forcing his eyes to remain open so he
could see, know that Harry was feeling it, feeling James claiming him and
taking him for all that he was worth.
The boy slowly started moaning; moving his hips and the movement was entirely
awkward with the way his legs were still draped over James' shoulders. They
slipped because of the movement, and Harry whined and wrapped them around
James' waist – because they belonged there – so he could move more into him, so
eager to help James with everything – to keep him from doing all the work.
They kissed, and Harry sobbed into James' mouth when James wrapped his fingers
around him, fisting him. But it felt like more than a kiss – it was Harry
confirming to James that he was his, so completely his, and it was all tongue
and lips and clumsiness and innocence. Innocence that James was slowly stealing
away from Harry, with every thrust and every shaky breath Harry released.
Their bodies moved together rather crudely, desperately and James was too aware
of how his balls slapped against Harry's ass. And he was aware of it all. Aware
of how Harry just snapped his hips forward and really didn't seem to have any
skill at it or knowledge at how to do it better and how Harry just didn't seem
to care for trying to make it last, how Harry was desperately pulling him down
for a kiss…
He dug his thumb into the slit of Harry's cock and Harry cried out, his green
eyes wide.
'Dad!' he exclaimed, seeming utterly shocked by the sensation running through
his body. James panted and drank in every noise Harry made, biting his neck and
marking him up completely. Because he wanted Harry to be embarrassed around his
friend and be forced to lie to cover up their secret, because that was what
this was going to be. A disgusting, filthy, amazingly arousing memory and
secret and sin all in one.
And James didn't regret one thing.
James moaned when Harry clenched around him, and from the way Harry's sounds
were getting even more desperate ('-please') he figured he was close. The
muscles in Harry's flat stomach quivered, and Harry was probably doing
everything he could to keep from coming.
Because James hadn't told him it was okay?
James' eyes widened at that thought, and he looked down to see Harry had been
staring at him all along, mouth still open and wanton sounds constantly
escaping his quivering lips.
'It's okay,' he murmured, and he placed his hand on Harry's cheek and caressed
it while Harry stared up at him with those amazing eyes of his, 'Harry's it's
okay. You don't have to hold back.'
Harry gasped and nodded, his face relaxing somewhat. James' manhood moved
faster in and out of the boy, now, and all it took was kissing Harry again and
squeezing him a bit tighter.
Harry came so hard and tightened so good, so painfully around him that James
had to brace himself on both hands, his eyes widening and his hips just
snapping forward in a frenzied pace while his cock was milked so tightly, for
all it was worth.
James came as well, and he filled Harry up completely with his essence. The
world seemed to be spinning and he barely had the strength to keep himself from
crushing Harry with his weight, but he managed and flopped down next to him
instead, panting. He closed his eyes, but not because he was tired.
Because he needed to know that when he'd open them again, Harry would still be
there.
A weight settled itself on top of him and James felt soft, now familiar lips
press against his own, Harry's skin feeling so amazingly smooth against his
own.
His hazel eyes fluttered open and it was real – those eyes were truly staring
down at him, looking at him as though he was the most amazing thing in the
world and it was something no one had done for him in so many years. And then
Harry smiled and it was so genuine and still so innocent that it hurt.
And James could just smile back, feeling… relieved. A burden that had weighed
on his shoulders for so long, having felt disgusting for so long and having
hated himself… it was gone now, strangely, because Harry didn't hate him for it
and he only seemed to love James more because of it.
James' breathing slowly calmed down again, but his heart was still racing and
Harry nipped at his lips again, his own still quivering and his movements still
shy even if he had been spread so open for James' eyes.
'Can we stay like this forever?' he whispered and James sighed, running his
hand through Harry's hair while his other rested on the small of Harry's back.
He felt drowsy, but he knew that sleeping in Harry's single bed wouldn't really
be a wise thing to do. He knew from experience that Harry moved around in his
sleep and he didn't want either of them to wind up falling out of bed, and even
if the thought of his own essence being inside of Harry was very pleasing on
its own, they needed to shower as well.
'Unfortunately not,' he whispered in return, though he had no idea why. He felt
out of place enough. Felt too large and too much there, somehow. 'Come on, we
have to take a shower.'
'Hmm,' Harry hummed, but he didn't really move an inch. His eyes were already
closed and he was nuzzling James' neck as if he had every right to do so and as
if it was completely normal.
'Harry, you have to get up,' James patted his back, but all Harry did was bury
his face in the crook of James' neck and inhale a deep breath. Almost as if he
was trying to smell James.
'Just a few more minutes?' Harry asked, and James exhaled a long breath before
slowly nodding.
But they never did leave Harry's bed that night.
===============================================================================
Platform 9 ¾ had always been a genuinely crowded place at the beginning of a
new school year, but with each passing year it seemed as though the amount of
students was somehow multiplying. As if no one actually graduated from
Hogwarts.
His hand was placed on the small of Harry's back, guiding him through the
crowds of people. Harry smiled a smile at him that he didn't show one to anyone
else. One that wasn't just all straight teeth and happiness, but love as well.
Harry honestly looked at him like he was just surreal to him.
James wondered if he would ever be capable of conveying what he felt for Harry.
Sirius walked next to them, completely unaware of the real nature of the
placement of James' hand on Harry's lower back. It seemed innocent, and James
honestly wasn't meaning anything sexual with it.
It was just that Harry's tailbone ached from the position they had been in
during their earlier frenzied lovemaking in the shower.
Harry masked his limp incredibly well, James noted, and he was sort of glad. He
helped Harry with his trunk and the cage of his owl, and blinked in confusion
when Harry's head suddenly turned and stared at an empty space. His eyes became
distant and frightened, and James turned his head in worry, but he saw nothing
that could bring Harry any harm.
'Harry?' he asked softly, and his hand brushed over Harry's arm. Harry's eyes
widened and his head whirled around, looking at both his godfather and his
father with a look of shock on his pretty face at first, but then he forced
himself to smile.
'I- I just thought…' Harry trailed off, looking back at the same spot before
shaking his head as if clearing his mind, clearly not wanting to say any more.
James would have to talk to him about that.
They had both decided it would be best to keep their relationship a secret
(because Harry hadn't wanted to settle for anything less than the right to call
James his own, and James could say the same) but James just really wanted to
kiss him.
He vaguely wondered at how he had managed to just keep his hands off Harry, how
he had had to satisfy himself with just thoughts of Harry. But now that he was
allowed to touch…
It was addictive. Like some sort of twisted drug. And the way Harry handled it
was so strangely mature and it was so new; of course he still acted like the
hormonal teenager he was with the way he had crawled into James' bed these past
nights and woke him with kisses and still clumsy inexperienced touches, but at
the same time he was so determined to make James see that they belonged
together. That it was alright.
'Do you have everything?' Sirius asked, and James thought that was a rather
useless question. It wasn't like they could actually apparate back home,
quickly grab whatever Harry had forgotten (which he hadn't because they had
checked his truck twice), open his trunk here in public and put whatever it was
inside of it.
Still, he said nothing of it and Harry's eyes looked amused when they flicked
to James and then focused fully on Sirius.
James ignored the jealous sting in his chest and focused on the way Harry
smiled instead – he looked kind of embarrassed, which was pretty normal since
he still was a teenager – and how it lacked that something it had whenever he
aimed it at James.
'I think so, yeah.'
Harry's hair was getting ruffled a bit by the wind and he looked so young James
couldn't help but imagine him in footed pajamas. The mental image was
incredibly adorable, but also wrong. Wasn't it?
Sirius smiled and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Harry so easily.
Harry said something James couldn't hear, but it made Sirius laugh and step
away again. And then Harry looked at him, and James felt excitement go through
him again. He glanced at Sirius who took the hint and stepped away from them,
giving them some privacy even if they were standing in a crowd of people.
He wrapped his arms around Harry as well and inhaled the scent of Harry's hair,
finding it incredibly difficult to let him go thus he didn't. Not yet.
'Be safe, baby,' he murmured into Harry's hair, and he felt the teen shiver
against him. The term of endearment somehow seemed to have grown rather quickly
on Harry, and Harry had liked it. Made him feel like James saw him as an actual
lover, he had confessed yesterday.
'You too,' Harry replied and they finally regrettably pulled away. Harry seemed
to be struggling to keep himself from doing something, but James couldn't quite
figure out what it was.
'I wish you could kiss me,' Harry confessed as if reading his mind and James'
eyes widened at the bold confession. Harry's face flushed and he looked away,
looking as if he had been caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar.
'Me too,' James finally murmured and he squeezed Harry's shoulder and marveled
at how wrong it felt to just do that when these past days they had been so
tangled up with each other. Harry's eyes shot back to him, looking rather
unsure, before he smiled again. James smiled back and kissed Harry's forehead
again, and his hand dropped away from Harry's shoulder. He really didn't want
to draw any attention, but…
James glanced over his shoulder to see Sirius had been watching them, and he
nodded tightly at his friend.
'You'll write, right? Both of you?'
James nodded again, slowly, knowing that Sirius would most likely send Harry at
least three letters a week. As for himself…
'Go, you'll miss your train,' James finally said in a defeated voice. Harry
shuffled a bit on his feet, before he wrapped his arms around James' waist and
pressed his face into his chest.
'I love you,' he murmured, and before James could answer he turned around and
got aboard. James ignored that painful twinge in his chest – awful things
always happened to Harry when he was at Hogwarts even if its headmaster had
claimed the castle to be the safest place in the world – in favor of waving and
putting on a smile instead.
It was just so unfair, how everywhere Harry went, he eventually wound up
getting hurt. The train slowly started moving and James just kept waving, still
uncomfortable with it all. Something inside of him told him something horrible
was going to happen this year – a foreboding feeling he had never felt so
strong.
'He's a good kid, James. He'll be fine,' Sirius murmured, and James turned his
eyes to look at him when the Hogwarts Express was finally out of view. He had
almost forgotten all about the other man. 'I'm glad you still have him. After
what happened with Lily.'
James hummed in acknowledgement, still tense around Sirius even after all these
years. Sirius shot him a strange look, before the man sighed. His hand brushed
over James' shoulder.
'I should go home.'
James nodded and sighed.
'Yeah, me too,' he murmured.
After all, he still had to make plans for a certain trip to Hogsmeade to visit
a certain 'Boy-Who-Lived', this weekend.
 
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