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Six Sentence Sunday 2021

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It isn’t enough, his arse in the air for me; I want more. Need more. “Beg me for it.”

Slowly his hand slides up his smooth, creamy thigh to grasp the tender flesh of his arse. Opening himself up to me, his voice comes out barely more than a broken, raspy whisper.


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Each greedy gulp spills water over his lips, down his chin and throat to soak his sweaty t-shirt.

Arousal, hot and thick, swirls inside me, making my fangs drop. There, on that throbbing pulse at the base of his neck, is where I would bite him if I could.

For only a second, I imagine his blood coursing through me, filling my cock so I could fuck him senseless.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins, “Thirsty?”


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Draco held his clasped hands to his mouth with a sigh, “Please tell me that the Slytherin scarf tattoo around your dick is a temporary one, even if it’s a lie.”

“It’s a Weasley Wheeze from George! And look,” Harry said, waving around a small piece of cardstock, “I got you the limited edition Harry Potter one with a tiny, tiny lightning bolt scar and glasses!”

“And why the fuck would I put that on my cock?”

Harry waggled his eyebrows in a way Draco should not find attractive and said, “So we can have a wizard’s duel, of course.” He summoned their favourite lube with a grin, “First one to shoot white sparks from their wand loses.”

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"I'll take it slowly, gently."

"Is that really what you want?"

It should be since this is our first time, but arousal and want claws at my insides, demanding I take everything.

My “no” comes out with too much desperation.

The seductive curve of his smile sends another bolt of lust through me. And again when he whispers, "Then fuck me like you mean it."

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“Please, you know you have to after what Dev said about Niall!” I clutch the ruler with a pleading look, and know I have him when his shoulders droop in resignation.

“Fine,” he grumbles, unfastening his jeans. “But you better make it worth my while!”

“I need you as hard as you can get! How is that not worth your while?”


“Where do we even start from if there’s no ‘start’ line?” Niall grumbled, trying to line the ruler up against Dev’s hard cock. “Simon must have lied about Baz.”

“Nah, all that arrogance must come from somewhere and Simon’s always got that stupid grin on his face.”

Niall threw the ruler aside and took Dev’s cock in hand, growling against his lips, “This is a stupid waste of time when I could be wearing a big dumb grin of my own.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dev said quickly, pushing Niall back against the bed and settling between his thighs.

“All that matters is you’re bigger than Simon,” Niall panted as Dev’s cock started to slide home, “and fuck yes you fit just right.”

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“I want to feel you inside me."

Harry had just about all he could take of this relentless idiot that couldn’t take a hint, and decided to try a new tactic. “Mm, like this?” Harry asked seductively, leaning in with a smile and tracing along the other man’s lip. In a flash, he shoved his finger straight up the idiot’s nose hard enough to make him shriek like a banshee and jerk backwards.

“What the fuck, you lunatic?!” the man yelled, clutching his (thankfully not bleeding) nose.

“I told you I’m taken so,” Harry said calmly, silently scourgifying his entire hand, “that’s the only bit of me going into you.”

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“You’re hogging the blanket and my toes are cold.”

“You can’t put your arm there, my arm goes there.”

“Your hair is in my face.”

“Why are your knees so sharp?”

“Damn, enough already, where’s the popcorn?”

“Shit, I think we left it in the kitchen.”

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My first glimpse was a tiny flash as he pulled off his school jumper, just there and gone before I even knew it. It took four days of scheming around his showering schedule to be in the right place at the right time to verify what I think I saw.

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch has a fucking nipple ring.

Not a ring, a simple barbell framing his deliciously pink nipple. And I know, I know, that wanker flashed it at me on purpose just to drive me mad.

But if this is madness, I think as I slide my hand (yet again) into my pyjama bottoms, I’ll take it.

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Harry preferred to sit diagonally back from Malfoy so it could look like he was paying attention to Flitwick when really he watched Malfoy drag the sugar quill back and forth across his lips. But Ernie-fucking-Macmillan stole his seat today and Harry had to try and subtly turn his head to catch sight of Malfoy’s tongue darting out to sample the delicate sugary feather.

And damn, he got caught by wicked, silvery eyes.

“Want one?” Malfoy asked, showing Harry the large box of assorted flavours. “A gift from a secret admirer,” he smirked, as though Harry didn’t have admirers of his own.

The box was worth every single gallon Harry paid.

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At first I think it’s coincidence, the way his tongue swirls through the ice cream and teases out each little chunk of chocolate, because that’s just how people eat ice cream cones.

But then he darts a glance at me and I know he’s done it all on purpose. Gaze locked on mine, he takes a long, slow lick of his cone, swirling his tongue at the top and sucking up a chocolate chip, leaving a smear of ice cream across his lips.

“Think you’re ready to head home?” he asks, all false nonchalance, licking his lips clean.

My hardening cock calls me an idiot when the words, “We’re not done with our ice cream yet,” slip out automatically.

His cool tongue teases my earlobe as he whispers, “All part of the plan.”

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Each button he fumbles to unfasten is a call, a signal, a cry for help.

My fingers slide into copper curls to yank his head back. I hiss in his ear, "Do you trust me, Snow?"

His smile of relief is answer enough.

Black as pitch and hang on like grim death flow from my lips as a soothing balm.

With eyes blinded and hands tied behind his back, my beautiful, obedient lover sinks to his knees.

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“I think someone spiked my drink with some kind of love potion,” Harry whispered as he slid a hand between Draco’s thighs.

Draco rolled his eyes and plucked Harry’s hand away, saying, “I bought your drink and I can assure you it’s fine.”

“That can’t be right because you look extra hot and I think I’d remember if you looked this hot when we left the flat.”

“You said you didn’t want to fuck around in any more public loos.”

“Well I didn’t count on being poisoned, did I? Meet me in the gents in five minutes.”

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Of course he waits until we’re both settled under the warm covers before asking, “Why do I always have to be the little spoon?”

“If you wanted to be the big spoon, you should have said so years ago when our sleep roles were first defined.”

“I’m just saying maybe it would be more fair if the top gets to be the big spoon.”

“You’d still be the little spoon right now.”

He wiggles his arse against my spent cock and laughs, “I know, but next time…”

“Sure,” I say, lacing our fingers together against his chest, “next time you can be the big spoon.”

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Baz: Simon, truth or dare?

Simon: Dare.

Baz: I dare you to sing the—

Simon: oh wow, I can’t believe you guys are daring me to eat a whole packet of butter!

Penny: No one dared you to—

Simon: Crowley, that’s a lot of butter but a dare is a dare so...

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Sitting through Malfoy’s new spell seminar felt like an impossible task after Ron’s impeccable timing with a dick-as-wand joke. Each snobbish “No, no, it’s thrust the wand downward on ‘la’” had Harry and Ron smothering yet another laugh.

“Aurors Potter and Weasley, something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Malfoy bit out from entirely too close behind them.

“Erm, no Unspeakable Malfoy, all’s well,” Harry said, turning with a grin to find Malfoy glaring at him. He couldn’t help the appreciative scan of Malfoy’s Unspeakable uniform.

Malfoy leaned into him, his hot breath sending delicious shivers down Harry’s spine as he whispered, “Perhaps privately after class, then?”

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I dance under the wild club lights without a care in the world as a hand slides under my shirt and splays across my belly, pulling me against the hard body behind me. He bites the soft flesh of my neck—two tiny nips followed by one long sucking kiss—in a pre-arranged signal so that I know it’s him.

Through the crush of dancers, I see another couple watching us—watching his hand stroking my cock inside my loose jeans—and all my nerves dissolve. Nothing could make me stop what’s about to happen, especially when he whispers, “You are so hot,” and grinds his hardening cock against my arse.

The idea of an anonymous club hook-up has always sounded fun, while the reality of it has always terrified me. But here, tonight, where no one knows us, we can play pretend for just a little while.

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“First there was this unexpected pressure that just pushed right into me and this heat pulsing and spreading through my whole body, just filling me and burning everything away until I was nothing but light and fire and melting but in a good way that I never wanted to end, even if I died from it.”

My adrenaline surges from the memory of casting the nursery rhyme with Snow’s magic. I simultaneously want to shout about it from the rooftops, and keep it private in my own memories.

Dev and Niall blink at me a few times, then look at each other, and back to me.

“I’m sorry I asked,” Dev says, getting to his feet.

“Let’s make a pact to never speak about Simon Snow’s magic ever again,” Niall agrees and follows him out the door.

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“Finally, our family’s last Hogwarts acceptance letter!” Harry whispered happily, brandishing the letter at Draco. “I know we’ll miss them, but damn I’m excited about the empty-ish nest.”

Draco shoved his hand right into Harry’s pyjama bottoms to give his cock a squeeze and growled against his lips, “We’re going to fuck like mad right here on the dining room table instead of breakfast on the second of September.”

Then a chorus of stomping could be heard coming down the stairs, their youngest chaperone yelling, “Did my letter arrive today?”

Draco yanked his hand away from Harry and they both wiped their faces, trying to look like it wasn’t the second of September already.

“It’s right here, love!”

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When I caught him with a hand down his trackies, scrolling on his phone with the other, I thought I’d startle him with, “Starting without me?” But instead he kept stroking his cock without pause.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” he murmured, sitting up to let me snuggle in behind him on the sofa, with eyes glued to his phone, “but my favourite author just posted a new thing.”

I made a noncommittal sound and replaced his hand with my own, caressing him lightly and reading familiar words over his shoulder.

“Damn, I love reading about us fucking,” he said, rolling his hips in counterpoint to my hand. He rested his fingers on my wrist and said, “Go faster because I’m at the part where I’m blowing you in the garden and want to come when you do.”

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He’s on all fours above me, a position I never would have taken as seductive. Not from him, at least.

But his lips hover an inch away from mine, his knees bracketing my hips. His blue eyes offer a challenge I’m only too eager to meet.

Reach for it he silently asks.

I close the distance between us.

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Harry has a split second to decide what kind of sex he wants to have.

If Harry catches the snitch, there will be sulky complaining about the angle of the sun and whiny demands for a rematch. Harry will need soothing words, lingering kisses, and careful wooing that will lead to a long, slow joining of their bodies.

If Draco catches the snitch, there will be obnoxious gloating about who the better flyer really is and a condescending offer of a rematch. Draco will dole out backhanded compliments, biting kisses, and zealous charm that will lead to wild, hard fucking.

Harry’s fingertips flutter and the golden ball darts away.

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“You’re going to have to propose again because I’m not telling my mum you begged me to marry you while I fucked you over our kitchen table.”

“Yeah, no, of course I don’t want you to lie to her or anything. I already have a ring and everything so I can stage some kind of fun, public thing.”

“I might say no, just to fuck with the onlookers.”

“Ooh, I’ll poke myself with a pin so I can fake some tears when I’m rejected! And I’ll be sure to hire a photographer to capture their horrified faces so we can remember the moment forever.”

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“And now we add the butter to the batter,” Simon almost sings, pointing vaguely behind him.

I grab the bowl and see the accident happening as it’s happening, but not fast enough to stop it.

His hand whacks the bowl, sending the melted (and thankfully only warm, not scorching) butter soaking into my shirt.

“Simon, you clumsy fuck,” I groan as I yank off the ruined shirt and throw it to the floor.

Too late, I’m soaked to the skin, and haven’t really considered the consequences of being half-naked and drenched in butter in front of Simon Snow (known butter fiend).

But I’ve certainly got his attention now.

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The overstuffed armchair barely had room for them both, but Draco couldn’t care when he had Harry in his lap, head thrown back and riding Draco with a slow pace meant to draw out their orgasms for as long as he possibly could.

“Fuck, please move faster so we can get out of this red and gold monstrosity,” Draco whined, shutting his eyes tight against the hideous bravery coating every surface of the Gryffindor common room. His words might have had more impact if half of them didn’t come out on a hitching moan as Harry’s pace picked up.

“This is my new favourite chair and I’m going to think of fucking you just like this every time I’m in here,” Harry panted, taking his cock in hand at long last.

“That’s it, you beautiful creature, my sweet—fucking hell, yes,” Draco moaned as Harry’s slick passage clamped down tight around his cock, and come splattered his belly.

He’d had his doubts about this little game of theirs, but now he couldn’t wait for the Slytherin round.

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Film night

Easy, smooth, no big deal, I tell myself as I sit right next to him on the sofa and set the bowl of popcorn on both our thighs. “You don’t mind sharing, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily, “seems easiest.”

His grin makes butterflies flutter in my stomach but it’s the way his fingers rifle through the popcorn that sets my blood running south.

And he seems to fucking know it with the way he draws each kernel into his mouth with a flick of his tongue.

Good, we’re on the same page.



Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed at the barista’s gentle teasing at my name, or winked when she handed our hot chocolates over, or licked suggestively at the whipped cream on top.

But I did, and now he’s hovering over my dripping cock, all fiery and demanding.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he growls possessively, sending another hot wave of lust through me.

“You, you, only you,” I moan helplessly as he slowly sinks down on my cock, drawing me ever deeper into the delicious, slick heat of him. I tangle my hands in our sheets to keep from taking control away from him.

He doesn’t seem to have caught on yet that he’s teaching me all the wrong lessons. And I can’t wait to do it again.