Charlie Weasley couldn't help himself. He really couldn't. If truth were told, it was all Harry Potter's fault. Harry was to blame. Harry and his come hither stare that shot bursts of flame straight to Charlie's cock. Harry and his dragon-kissed lips, always drawn up in that mischievous little smirk that made Charlie want to pry them open and wipe away that smirk proper. Harry and his pert, perfectly round arse that was, at that very moment, taunting him, teasing him, with its wicked sway and wiggle.
It was New Year's night and they were standing in the kitchen at the Burrow. Alone. The rest of the Weasleys had gone outside for the traditional pyrotechnic display the twins insisted on every New Year's. Harry and Charlie had begged off, both leery of the magical fireworks the twins had created for the event. Instead, Harry offered to stack the dishes and, much to Charlie's consternation, volunteered Charlie to tidy the living room.
Charlie made fast work of his chores, hoping to steal a few kisses from Harry, his lover of two years, though the prospect was unlikely given Harry's prudish stance on affection while sleeping under "Charlie's mum's roof." It had been almost a week since they'd fooled around. Every time Charlie approached, Harry retreated while spitting and hissing that this was Charlie's mum's house and that he couldn't do anything randy in Charlie's mum's house. Charlie thought he'd been joking the first time he'd said that, but after enduring a not-so-gentle stinging hex, he'd realized Harry was serious. With great reluctance, Charlie had acquiesced.
It wasn't as if he didn't understand how important this visit was to Harry. While everyone knew they were together, this was their first time "home" as a couple. They'd met at the dragon reserve—Charlie a tamer, Harry a dragon medi-specialist—and it had been difficult to arrange holidays off. Harry wanted to make the visit perfect and the thought of getting caught doing… that in the home of his potential in-laws and surrogate parents was just too much. So far, he'd fended off Charlie's advances with astonishing determination and, in turn, had not touched Charlie in any way that was remotely indecent. Charlie was going mad and so was Harry. The tension was so obvious, even Ron had picked up on it. Nevertheless, Harry remained steadfast in his decision.
Charlie thought he could support him. He really, really did. And he was doing a fine job of it, until he paused in the doorway between the kitchen and living room and spied Harry's arse swaying in time to the music on the Wizarding Wireless while stacking dinner plates in the sink. Charlie's gaze slid up and down Harry's lithe form, smiling at Harry's insistence on wearing his latest Weasley jumper, this one a lusty crimson with yellow-gold trim around the neck. His throat went dry, though, as Harry bent over to collect an errant teacup that had somehow landed on the floor. Merlin, his arse begged to be pinched, rubbed… smacked. Charlie smirked. They'd discovered quite by accident that they had a mutual spanking kink. There was nothing quite like watching the rosy flames rise and lick at Harry's alabaster skin with each well-placed smack, the feel of searing heat stoked over and over again until banked by the fluid movements of Charlie's roughened hands grazing across Harry's heated flesh.
He shifted his weight and made a feeble attempt at adjusting his now painfully hard cock, but the image of giving that wiggling arse a good, firm spank catapulted Charlie into insanity. He was no longer in the mood for acquiescence. He was a dragon tamer, by gods, and it was time to tame his little black-haired dragon.
Harry had his back to him as he continued working at the sink, oblivious to Charlie's presence and intentions. Good. Charlie so loved the element of surprise. It worked particularly well with the Chinese Fireballs; the liondragon was an apt description for his feisty lover. He cocked his head and listened for sounds of approach or danger. He heard the crackle of spellwork outside and knew it would be some time before the rest made their way inside. He relaxed a bit and took his time scanning the kitchen for possible means of escape for his quarry. He'd have to watch that back door and the mounting crockery. Harry could twist and turn out of almost any grasp and was fast as lightning, almost taking flight when he wanted. And he had been known to throw a dinner plate or two when riled.
Chalie's eyes flicked to the left and then to the right. Plan in place, he stalked his prey in silence. One needed every advantage possible when wrangling wild, magical creatures. With a feral smile, he advanced, prepared to subdue his little dragon. His right hand began to twitch in anticipation as he stalked closer. Charlie licked his lips as he soundlessly closed the distance. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and brought his slightly cupped hand back before swinging it forward.
Oh, fuck. The feel of his hand against that firm ass was almost enough to undo him. He curled his fingers around the left side of Harry's arse, refusing to let go as Harry stiffened in surprise, dropped a plate, and tried to wriggle free.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry asked in a whispered rasp as he struggled to turn around. "We're in your mum's house. In the kitchen. Don't… oh gods… don't do that," Harry moaned as Charlie rubbed his rough hand across the cheek it had just given a good, solid spank. "Stop it, Charlie. I mean it. If you don't stop right now, I'll aim that stinging hex lower and it will be a hell of a lot longer than a week before we play 'dragon on the loose.'"
Charlie ignored him as he stepped forward, pinning Harry in between him and the kitchen sink.
"What are you doing?" Harry seethed. "Have you gone mad?"
Charlie chuckled, continuing to ignore Harry's sputters and hisses. The thing about dragons was that they played a good game, what with their fire spitting, ear splitting shrieks, whipping tails that stung like Merlin, and deadly claws always at the ready. But if you knew their particular weaknesses and drove forward without apology, you could tame them—well, as well as they could be tamed. Charlie had long ago figured out that dragons did just as much taming as the tamers.
"Charlie, this isn't one of our games. Stop this. Right now."
"Uh huh," Charlie said as he rubbed himself against Harry's bottom. He smiled as an illicit moan escaped Harry's pursed lips, just as Charlie knew it would. It took years of study to know a dragon, to know its habits, its wants, its needs, its weaknesses. Charlie knew Harry's weaknesses inside and out. He'd made quite a study of them, after all. Without a word, his right hand came back and leveled another hit. *Smack* At Harry's sharp intake of breath and the slight glazing of his eyes, Charlie smirked and fired off a short battery of spanks. *Smack* *Smack* *Smack*
"We can't… oh gods… you've got to… not-not here… oh fuck," tumbled from Harry's lips as he unconsciously pressed back into the hand that alternated between roughly caressing his backside and smacking him hard.
Charlie leaned in and nipped at Harry's ear. *Smack* He smiled as Harry's eyes narrowed into slits of prurient pleasure. "Like that, do you?" he whispered before whirling Harry's lust-slackened body around and crushing their lips together for a thorough snog. Both of Charlie's hands slid down Harry's body and settled on his arse, cupping the cheeks with a firm grip.
"Seriously, Charlie. Stop. We can't do this. Not here. You've got to… oh, merlin,merlin,merlin… please. I'm serious," Harry said in between kisses as he tried in vain to push Charlie away.
"I'm serious too, Harry. A week. It's been a bloody week. I can't take another second of this. They're outside. They won't know. I have to have you. Now," Charlie growled.
Harry bit his lip and hazarded a glance out of the window, not that he could actually see anything. "But they might come back. They might see," Harry whispered. "This is your mum's house, Charlie," Harry said for the hundredth time as he pushed away hard and managed to put some space between them.
"That's half the fun," Charlie chuckled as he lurched forward to grab for Harry. He would have stopped, he really would have, if Harry had told him 'no' again. But Harry didn't. Instead, with the sparkle in his eyes, the slight curl in his upper lip, and the slight squeeze he gave Charlie's forearm before jumping away, Harry agreed to play and set the rules. It seemed, this time, Charlie would be doing the chasing. Charlie's cock let out a whoop of joy as it jerked in Harry's direction, waiting for the game to start.
Harry, as only Harry could, slipped through Charlie's fingers and made for the door. Charlie got there first, reaching out to grab him again. Harry, undeterred and with a wicked gleam in his eye, faked to the left before darting to the right. A few steps behind him, Charlie chased Harry around the kitchen table, both knocking over chairs as they went. The sound of Harry's ebullient laughter spurred Charlie on. "I will catch you, you know."
"You can try," Harry said with a lascivious chuckle as he twisted around and made for the stairs.
"Oh no, you don't," Charlie growled as he reached out to catch the little beast whipping around the kitchen.
Harry made an abortive move towards the back door again, but Charlie was ready for the feint this time. He darted in the other direction and was finally able to grab Harry by the scruff of his yellow-gold fringe. "Got you," he crowed as he enfolded Harry's roaring, spitting, laughing form into his arms and pulled him back towards the kitchen sink.
"Let me go!" Harry spat as he tried to wrestle free of Charlie's grasp.
"Not on your life," Charlie said as he kissed the nape of Harry's neck and pinned him, once again, between his body and the sink. "Such a naughty, naughty little dragon," he purred in Harry's ear, hardening further as Harry panted and moaned against him. "You need to be punished, I think," Charlie said as he gave another firm smack to Harry's bottom. Harry's breath hitched in response. He arched towards Charlie and squeezed his eyes shut. Charlie smirked. It seemed he was close to wrangling this particular dragon.
Harry moaned. "Have not," he rasped. "Always… good," he panted.
*Smack* "Oh yes, you are my dragon," Charlie taunted as he squeezed and rubbed the hot flesh beneath his hands. "So good, and so bad, too. Do you know what you do to me? Staring at me through dinner with that saucy little smirk. Wiggling your arse in here, getting me all hot and bothered." *Smack* *Smack* *Smack* *Smack* *Smack!* "I am going to fuck you so hard and so fast you won't know where I end and you begin," Charlie promised, ignoring Harry's cries, whimpers, moans, and pleas for him to both stop and start all at the same time.
Charlie whipped Harry around, popped Harry's trouser buttons open with a single, fluid snap, yanked his trousers and smalls down, whirled him around again, and pushed him against the sink. Keeping one hand at the small of Harry's undulating back, he quickly divested himself of his own trousers and smalls. Harry's arse was beautiful. The skin was hot and rosy tinted. He brushed his fingers across the smooth skin, smiling when Harry shivered.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry murmured over and over and over as he was turned, stripped and pushed into position. He felt his legs kicked apart and the solid weight of Charlie settle behind him. The cool air skated across his reddened bottom along with Charlie's fingertips. "Fuck," he hissed again as he shivered at the sensation. Harry had never been more terrified and more excited in his life. On the one hand, he was desperate for a good, hard shag; it had been too long. On the other, though, they were in the middle of Charlie's mum's kitchen, their trousers and smalls wound around their ankles. It would only take a moment for any of the Weasleys to stride across the yard and enter the kitchen. This was not the "hello, so nice to see you," he wanted to give.
"Charlie—let's take this upstairs, at least," Harry had the presence of mind to say.
"No. Right here. Right now. Can't wait." Charlie hesitated for a moment. "Did you bring any lube, love?" he whispered, suspending play for just a moment.
Harry sighed and shook his head. "No," he whimpered, both dejected that this might be over before it started and hopeful that this might be over before it started.
"Well, we'll have to improvise then," Charlie said with a nip to Harry's ear.
Harry's heart leapt to his throat. He felt shaky and a tad dizzy. He gripped the edge of the sink as he felt Charlie twist around and reach across him. He heard the sound of a bottle cap twisting off. He felt the drizzle of something cold and viscous drip and swirl into his cleft. He turned his head and realized the almond oil was missing. Two fingers, coated in oil, teased at his entrance. He arched and pushed against the fingers. Oh, Merlin, it had been far too long. "Please, please, please," he moaned, forgetting where he was for the moment, so lost in the haze of pleasure Charlie wrought from him.
The sound of laughter and the crackle of spellwork brought him to the present with a whipsnap crack. His heart hammered in his chest as the fingers kept up their insistent teasing, undaunted by the potential for discovery. Holy gods he wanted this, but he wanted it to stop, had to stop—make it stop—the fingers pushed in—holy fuck, don't ever fucking STOP!
"Guess we're going to have to hurry," Charlie whispered in his ear, as he plunged his fingers in and out mercilessly.
Harry could take no more. "Use the fucking stretching spell and fuck me, goddamnit!" he roared, astonishing himself with his brazenness.
*Smack* "Such a dirty little dragon," Charlie mocked, thrilled and surprised by Harry's response. It seemed more careful study of this particular dragon was in order. He cast the stretching spell and coated his prick in almond oil.
"That's right. A dirty little dragon who needs a good sound fucking. I don't think you have the balls to do it," Harry said, not believing what was tumbling from his mouth. He was so incredibly aroused and scared and… aroused, that he gave up the pretense of control and just. Let. Go. "Think you can tame me, do you?" he taunted as he canted his hips and pushed hard, fought Charlie's grip, and made the tamer growl and work harder at keeping him where he wanted him. "I'd like to see you fucking try," Harry screamed.
"I don't need to try, I've already got you, my little dragon," Charlie roared as he pushed his way into Harry's body in one fast slide. He grabbed hold of Harry's hips, his hands like pincers, as he seated himself fully.
"Yes, fucking Merlin!" Harry bellowed, welcoming the burning sensation as Charlie pushed in. He liked it rough and Charlie knew it. Harry pushed back, forcing Charlie deeper.
"Merlin, Harry," Charlie murmured as he fought to keep himself from coming. He glanced outside. It seemed the fireworks were winding down. A thrilling sense of panic gripped him. "I am going to fuck you like you've never been fucked," he said through sloppy, open-mouth kisses and bites along the side of Harry's neck.
Harry spread his legs just a bit further in invitation. Charlie needed no further encouragement. He pulled back and slammed into Harry and then again, and again, again. The pace was unrelenting and constant—this was not the time for a slow build. His hands held Harry fast, the grip as punishing as his strokes.
Harry moaned as he met Charlie stroke for stroke. "Yesssss," he hissed as Charlie pounded into him. His hands curled into fists and swiped at the plates, knocking them over. "Holy fucking gods, right there, right THERE," Harry screamed as Charlie shifted slightly and began hammering against his prostate.
"Right there? Is that where you want it?" Charlie snarked as he gave Harry three firm smacks across the left side of his arse for good measure.
Harry writhed and moaned. The plates toppled over and cascaded down to the floor in a spectacular explosion of crockery. Harry was harder than he ever remembered being, his prick slapping against the side of the sink every time Charlie thrust into him. He shifted slightly in preparation to take himself in hand. Before he could, though, Charlie's hand curled around his prick and squeezed hard before it began moving up and down at the same punishing pace as his thrusts. "Hurry," Harry screamed as his scrabbling hands knocked over canisters and sent spoons, spice jars, and the potato peeler flying. "They're coming. Fuck, they'll be here any second," Harry cried as he heard murmuring voices become louder with each second.
Charlie growled and snapped his hips faster, his orgasm close. Harry's hands beat like wings as they knocked over everything in their path and his body writhed like a dragon in flight. His short bursts of breath had fire in them and his glazed, narrowed eyes glittered with wildness and ferocity. Charlie held on for the ride.
The fireworks had stopped. It was only a matter of time now. Charlie bit Harry's shoulder, glorying in the feral growl it provoked, hoping that it had spurned Harry on. They were both close. Charlie could feel it in his bones. And then Harry pushed back and ground his arse against him even more.
"They're coming. Fuck, they'll be here any second," Harry caterwauled as he pushed back harder and joined one of his hands with Charlie's.
At the sound of a snapping twig close to the house, Charlie bit Harry's shoulder again, squeezed him tight and, with an almighty roar, came hard. His and Harry's hands moved up and down Harry's prick in tandem, begging for release. Harry's body stiffened, his free hand beat hard against the sink, and he shouted, "Yes, yes, yes, oh fucking Merlin, yes," as he came with an unmatched ferocity. Time hung limp for a moment as Charlie slumped against Harry, panting hard.
In a split second, however, time shot forward, not even allowing them to catch their breaths. The sound of close voices and laughter had them struggling to stand upright and scrambling with hasty cleansing spells and the business of righting their smalls and trousers. They'd barely covered up when Mrs. Weasley opened the kitchen door.
"What in the heavens," she began as she surveyed what remained of her kitchen and took in the disheveled, sweaty, and panting boys in front of her. She smirked inwardly at their misbuttoned trousers and rumpled jumpers. Finally, the tension between them had been eased. Of course, a good shag would do that to a person. 'About time,' she said to herself, no stranger to kitchen shenanigans. Harry opened his mouth to offer explanation, his face blotchy with embarrassment. She watched as Charlie fretted and moved into a protective stance. He caught his mum's eye and pleaded with her not to say anything.
Molly sighed and stopped Harry's ramblings before they could start with a single finger to her lips. She turned and barked something to the others about it being a grand time to gather up the gnomes in the garden and shooed them away amidst grumbles and incredulity. She turned back to Harry and Charlie. Harry, of course, was still pretending that it wasn't obvious that he and Charlie had just had one hell of a go in her kitchen.
"That damn poltergeist has been mucking up the kitchen again, it seems. You boys were good to try and clean it up, but I can take it from here." She smiled as Harry relaxed a bit. "You both look a bit flushed. Best get into bed in case you're coming down with something," she said, before biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing. Mother and son exchanged a brief, knowing glance while Harry stammered about poltergeists and flour canisters.
"Let's go, Harry," Charlie said with a cheeky grin and a soft smack to Harry's backside.
"Don't do that," Harry said with clenched teeth as he smacked at Charlie's hand.
Charlie rolled his eyes and pulled Harry up the stairs.
Molly shook her head at their retreating forms, pretending not to hear their furious whispers. Though, she didn't miss the wink Charlie gave her as he turned and mouthed, "Thanks, mum," before leading his sputtering—nevertheless a little tame—dragon up to bed.
The trick was all in the handling, Charlie thought to himself as he pulled a drowsy Harry closer to him, reveling in the tangle of their limbs under the sheets and soft blankets. "Good night, my dragon," he whispered with a teasing lilt.
One of Harry's eyes opened into a narrow slit. His mouth pulled into that smirk that got Charlie every time. "You haven't tamed me yet," he said, his words sparkling with mischief and promise. "And the way I see it, I still have quite a bit of taming to do myself."
Charlie grinned and kissed the top of Harry's head. That was fine. After all, it took years for a dragon and his tamer to know each other, and longer still for each to tame the other.
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