josan

Update

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 16:56:08 GMT

No, I'm not dead.

No, I'm not hibernating.

No, I'm not pissed off at some of the negative responses to my Snarry.

Hmmm, let me see: I think that covers all the email questions I've been getting.

What I am is wiped out. Not only was the end of the year a real 'treat', but I've come down with something called "benign vertigo". Mind, my definition of benign doesn't seem to be that of the person who so named this aliment.

It's like walking on the deck of a ship. On good days, the sea is calm and there's just some gentle rocking. But on the bad days, the ship is in the middle of that so-called perfect storm and I need a cane to stay upright and stable.

Rapid eye movement (like reading) can set it off as well as patterned flooring and wallpaper. So can a sudden turn of the head. Or moving my sight back and forth, or up and down. (No tennis games permitted!)

Right now, today is a good day, but I can only watch a screen for a very limited amount of time.

There are more good days than bad these days, but I don't want to set them off, hence I am avoiding LJ, IJ and all the other Js.

And that's what's up with me.

I've been told that once I go a whole week without trouble, the BV will probably be over. It's been 7 weeks and the bloody thing is hanging in for dear life.

So that's what's happening to me. :-)

Hugs to all. I miss you.

SNARRY GAMES

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Mon, 19 May 2008 18:25:58 GMT

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_games/

Oh, come on! I know you feel overwhelmed by all the fic that's appearing. Long stories, some with superb, brilliant, wonderful dragons in them and some with not-even-barbecued phoenixes even.

The early stories got tons of feedback, but the more recent ones have barely been holding their head above water.

Yes, I know. Long stories, twice a day. And you have Real Life to contend with as well. And you were reading all those H/D that were popping up at the same time.

May I offer a potential solution?

Start reading today's posts. Go back later to the previous ones (if you want). Come on, you know you didn't read every Smutmas or H/D that was posted and you didn't feel guilty about that. Don't feel guilty about this solution.

OR

Just pick one team (preferably, for example, not that I'm biased or anything, TEAM DRAGON) and just read those and then go back and read the stories posted by That Other Team.

OR

Go to the Half-Way Mark post and read the stories written by your favourite writers, or the ones with the summaries that tickle you for some reason.

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_games/183033.html

OR

Read every story posted on even-numbered days only. Or odd-numbered days.

OR

. . .

Look, frankly, I don't care what you do, but please, go read some of the stories that are up there. They cost only a bit of your time. No Canadian versus American versus European pricing. No PayPal converting to your home money standard. No VAT/GST/State Tax.

You can find stories about Harry and Severus getting together, romances, break-ups, mentoring, proxying; based on RL, based on fairy tales, based on history (well researched!); bittersweet stories, funny stories, sad stories, stories that will make you cry, stories that will make you sigh, stories that will make you horny.

And please, if you don't like a story, stop reading and try another.

If you like a story, leave feedback. That's your only cost. (Well, until a certain date, you can also vote. *I* can't, but you can.)

And it doesn't have to be much. Just: I liked this. OR Good story. OR even just a :-)

You can do that.

(I know that you can.)

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_games/

REC: Darco's "Act Five: Deconstruction of an Architect"

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Thu, 15 May 2008 21:43:44 GMT

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_games/184681.html

1. This is simply a masterpiece. AR, Victorian time setting and extremely well researched. (darco has the library fines to prove that last bit.)

2. WARNING: this one is also being accused of not being a Snarry, but frankly, who the hell cares? Go read. (If you do care, then DON'T READ IT!)

3. This has to be one of the very best AR!Snapes I have ever read in the five (six?) years I have been in this fandom. Sympathetic, pragmatic, human, and with a hint of feeling in spite of himself.

4. It is, for this year's Snarry Games, relatively short. A mere PERFECT 8500 words.

5. What are you still doing here? GO!!!

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snarry_games/184681.html

AND DON'T FORGET TO LEAVE A COMMENT! (Stern teacher look!)

Ashamed but can't resist

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Mon, 05 May 2008 00:06:10 GMT

OMG! A groaner!

A friend just called me and reminded me that is the only day when one can say, with a straight face:

May the fourth be with you.

I did warn you that it was a groaner!

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 21:18:16 GMT

The literate man's response to homophobia.

(Caution: no drinking while reading)

http://notesfromthegeekshow.blogspot.com/2008/03/sodomite-hal-duncan.html

And they call Quid a neverending saga!

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 23:14:25 GMT

Fans of GRRMartin?

Have you seen this?

http://www.locusmag.com:80/2008/0401_GRRMartin.html

:-)

I'm back...I think

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 19:46:45 GMT

The last three weeks were more than what I bargained for. End of term came with a series of weird meetings with the administration, dealing with parents, dealign with students who either didn't hand in their projects OR did them incorrectly.

The good news is that I do have a job for next year (YAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!). The weird news is that the admin has decided that we shall be teaching ESL (English, second language) in a new manner.

Well, new to them. I listened while the admin (just him and me) was explaining how the set-up will change for next year...he was quite wary, almost as though he was expecting me to challenge him, or snarl at him or something (wonder if that's what my colleagues did to him?). I smiled at the poor lad and told him that sounded very much like what we had done in the 1970s, even if they have given it a new name this year. Then I sang him the line of "Everything old is new again". He looked relieved, but mentioned that he wouldn't know as he had only been in the profession since the mid-1980s.

Other than that, the weather is getting me down. I'm on March Break and I should be spending lazy days catching up on LJ life, reading, and other fun things, a little every day. However, due to the weather, I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Gotta get errands done while the sun is shining 'cause we are getting yet another 10+ cms tonight (snow, ice pellets and freezing rain), with another 10 tomorrow. Thursday, we are in between yet another storm front, which should begin delivering between 20 and 40 cms of crap for the weekend.

So much for pleasure spring-like weather.

I'm meeting friends for supper tonight and should be home before the crap begins. Thursday, I'm off to see a play. Thank God it was scheduled between storms.

I want this stuff to STOP! I know this is Canada, but what the hell! We've had over 300 cms of snow so far. The four municipal dumps are full to overflowing. The city finally got provincial approval to open two more sites. And Environment Canada is predicting a very late spring. PLUS we're changing hour again this weekend? Isn't that supposed to be a SPRING thing?

Sigh.

I know I'm getting old because I am getting to be very short-tempered with change.

I beg to differ!

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 19:55:58 GMT

MY definition of flurries is NOT 10 inches of snow on the roof of the car!

TAKE IT AWAY, ALREADY!!!!!

(Only 10 projects left to mark. There is LIGHT at the end of the TUNNEL!!!!!! As for sanity, I'm not certain. Maybe if I scrape the sides of the jar...)

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 00:23:46 GMT

Coming out from beneath the dumps of snow (yet again with more on the way!) and the end of term marking to wish you all:

HAPPY ST. VALENTINE'S DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And another little goodie!

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 02:24:01 GMT

I have a student (in the same class as the previous postings) who is, according to what I hear, a superb drummer. Will probably be his profession when he escapes...er graduates from high school.

He's not particularly fond of school.

So, I am reading his book report and by the second page, I get that 'feeling'.

Now, when I think on the matter, I never actually saw him read the book he had selected to read as he sits in the back of the classroom. (The front is packed with 'problem' kids.) When I checked with him that first reading day, he told me he'd left the book at home, because he'd started reading it there (which is plausible since he's lived for a couple of years in Toronto, so his English is really very good...when he puts in the effort), but he gave me the name of the book, "The Book of Dragons", which title exists on several books, one of which I know for a fact is a novel-- I own it. He assured me that it was over 200 pages (their minimum) and I moved on to the next kid.

I didn't think any more on it. When we had reading periods, he was quiet and seemed to be reading.

But his book report indicates that the author is one Michael Hague. Now MH is an award winning illustrator. When, I ask myself, did MH write a book? So I log on to Amazon and check. Hmmmmmmmm.

Don't you love that section where you can read the table of contents? Seems the MH book is a collection of short stories. Nine of them in all. With illustrations by Michael Hague. Number of pages: 160. (Far too short. I never would have permitted this book.)

Now then, reading his report, it would seem that my little drummer has selected the shortest of the entries and has tried to pass it off as the *entire* book.

One story out of nine done. Hmmmmmmm.

So, at the top of his Book Report, I have written: 1/9 of the book read, 1/9 of the marks assigned. 1/9 of 200 is 22. Oh, but he wrote his report in pen, which is something ( for a long list of reasons) I never allow in my class. Not even black pen, which is what he's done his report in. So, he loses the usual additional 10 marks for using a pen. End result: 12/200 or 6%.

I await his oral interview...which is based on the book he's supposed to have read. And his written term exam, which, though they don't yet know, is a summary (200 - 225 words) of their novel.

Being the bitch that I am, I shall wait until after the written exam to arrange his interview.

Sigh. Kids must really think we teachers are really stupid.

That extra-special assignment handed in

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 00:10:19 GMT

Well, the kid's parents contacted the school this morning and asked me to call them. They admitted to helping, but only insofar as correcting his spelling and grammar.

My principal says I have to accept the work; that we are always telling parents they have to help, and when they do, we have to accept it.

Shrug.

That's life.

I still met with the kid at lunchtime and had him write several sentences for me. It matches the one on the book report, though not the one of the pre-Christmas test. Which brings up questions of its own.

Well, I did my best.

Life goes on.

Calling all parents.

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 22:23:30 GMT

Okay, so your kid's got an assignment due the next day and he (sorry, will be using the masculine due to the fact that the example I will be using is a masculine one) is freaking out.

Hasn't mentioned that he's had many, many days (since before Christmas) to work on his assignment, due February 4th: a book report for example.

Parent decides to do ... cough, cough, sorry. Parent decides to "help" the kid with his assignment.

HOW TO DO...'HELP' YOUR KID WITH AN ASSIGNMENT

1. HANDWRITING.

Try to conform to the kid's handwriting so that it is not so obvious that he didn't do the work. Why? Well, teachers are real bitches, you know. They often have samples of their students' handwriting to compare.

So, if your kid prints only, don't write his work out in cursive. Or if he's really messy, don't hand in a clean copy. If his letters are all different sizes in a word and irregular, don't do it in your best handwriting. If his letters are all straight up, then slanted printing is a no-no.

Better yet, dictate the responses so that the assignment is at least in the kid's own handwriting.

2. SENTENCE STRUCTURE.

Kids do not write sentences the way adults do. For example, a student who, still after all this time, can't use auxiliaries properly, nor negatives, NEVER EVER writes compound-complex sentences...well, you, as a parent 'helping', needs to be aware that proper usage would then be a real give-away.

For example: This from a kid who can't write a seven-word sentence correctly.

Because it's (Spelt correctly, which the kid still can't do) the culmination (Yeah, sure...he uses this word every day, eh!) point of the story,(proper comma) where (proper relative pronoun) he finally knows (a correct present tense! No way!) why he got cursed, what were the intentions (plural verb for a plural subject...not one of his strong points, even when the S comes before the V!) of the gypsy and how to get back his normal life.

3. VOCABULARY.

Again, know the kind of language your kid uses. A student who never ever looks a word up in the dictionary and will invent words (Oh, forgot to mention that this is an enriched ESL class...) from French, like dropping accents and the like, would NEVER EVER use words like "culmination".

Learn his quirky errors, like I is always i, there is used for their, i not understand for I don't understand.

BTW: Never spell WHICH properly when your kid regularly gets it wrong (wich) in the weekly dictations I now hold (He's had to write it out correctly 3 X 25 times so far and he still spelt it wrong again this week.) Ditto WITH (whit) and WHAT (waht). (No, he is NOT dyslexic. He's been tested...they all have been at one time or another these days!)

Do more than sign your kid's homework; take a look at it as well. This is how you will know these things.

4. PUNCTUATION

The proper use of punctuation, such as commas and periods, is another give-away when your kid is forever losing marks for NOT using punctuation. If capitalisation of the first word in a sentence is something else he doesn't do on a regular basis, then don't begin each sentence (which you ended with a period) with a capital letter.

Hope this helps.

Oh, and my kid: I left a message on his home answering machine that I want to see him in my office at 12:25 (lunch) tomorrow, to discuss his book report.

I sincerely hope he read the book (Thinner, by Stephen King -- his choice, not mine!) because his oral mark interview is based on the book (In cases where I suspect a student hasn't read his/her book, I tend to ask for details about the secondary characters, not the main ones, 'cause I am a bitch!) and 50% of the writing component this term will be his writing a resume of the story (with guidelines to follow).

This is a kid who got 46% on his mid-term reading exam. That's worth 50% of the reading component for this term, with the book report the other 50%.

Let me see: 46 + 100 = 146/200 = 73% and therefore a pass.

Hmmmmm, I think not.

I shall present my lad with two options: ZERO for this work OR he can spend his study periods and his lunch periods with me over the next four days and redo it. No, I most certainly will not allow him the 'original' work.

I wonder which he will chose?

I'm in the Snarry Games! I'm in the Snarry Games!

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Sun, 27 Jan 2008 22:26:00 GMT

1) The word is out. Yes, I am participating in the SNARRY GAMES, in the best team of all, TEAM DRAGON, where I am with the most incredible people!

2) I needed a dragon icon. In 2006, caladan_dd made me the most beautiful dragon picture with Severus in it.

http://caladan-dd.livejournal.com/15927.html

Then, in a moment when all the luck was with me, I actually managed to make myself an icon from it. (See my new icon?)

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 22:31:15 GMT

HEADDESK HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK,HEADDESK.

Thanks, bethbethbeth.

I'm more tired than I thought.

God help us all when this generation takes over.

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 22:10:06 GMT

Well, we went to see the Scottish play at the National Art Centre Monday. I threatened my kids within an inch of their lives re:behaviour.

I should have saved my breath. THEY were well behaved. Around them...OMG!

— kids talking throughout the play...and I mean throughout the play!
— kids putting their feet up on the top of the seat in front of them
— kids eating – chips, passing around candy, rattling gum boxes
— kids with cell phones – holding conversations with their pals
— kids listening to their iPods, loud enough for those around to hear the music
— kids watching movies on their iPods
— kids applauding and cheering with Lady Macduff and her boy are murdered.

Teachers? Oh, not many. In my section, I was the only adult for the eight rows I could check out. Where were they? Grouped with their parent supervisors, all together, as far away from their responsibilities as they could get. (Not all...but sadly most.) My parent supervisors were with their groups and I was with the largest batch.

The parents were horrified by the behaviour of the kids around them. The Parents' Council paid for these tickets. I think should I ever take a group again to see a play, it will NOT be at a student matinee. We'll pay the full price rather than put up with that kind of behaviour.

And the day had begun well: my car didn't start. I had to call 4 taxi companies before one could come and get me to school in time for my first class. CAA wait was three hours. (We hit -25C Sunday-Monday)

I got home in the late afternoon and the bloody car began right away– the sun had shone on it. Got it to Canadian Tire and a new battery, though that took some 2 hours.

This morning, I drive in slowly as we're having another bloody snow dump...and then we get some misty-like rain. I'm not driving quickly. I got snow tires for the car three weeks ago...and at a downhill slope, I hit ice, can't stop and hit a car.

Thank God I was driving soooo slowly. No damage done to either car, nor to the drivers other than shaking. But when I tried to get out of the car to go see how the other driver (an elderly woman) was, I ending up flat on my face, the road was so icy.

Up here we say, "Jamais deux sans trois." (Never two without three – aka, things come in threes.) That's a double whammy re: the car. I shall be very wary tomorrow morning on my way to work.

Back into Fest mood

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Sun, 20 Jan 2008 21:05:40 GMT

artwork by red_rahl banner by janicechess

The list of writers in the four teams (Canon, Fanon, Epilogue, EWE) are soo good that I feel (personal prejudice aside, being the Slytherin that I am) that the above banner best sums up my feelings on the H/D challenge.

For the list, go here:

http://community.livejournal.com/hd_worldcup/2108.html

In which I contribute to the fandom wank and other things

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 17:01:33 GMT

westmoon, who keeps me up to date with fandom wank, has sent me these links, not all of them having to do with the CE wank. One has to do with Cordelia, Aral and Miles Vorkosigan.

Part 1:

http://www.journalfen.net/community/fandom_wank/1132678.html

Part 2:

http://www.journalfen.net/community/fandom_wank/1133638.html

But this is a new site for me: Dear Author, which reviews romance, sci-fan and other books. Lots of authors post there. Their take on plagiarism is passionate (as it should be!) and interesting.

http://dearauthor.com/

DA on Cassie Edwards:

http://dearauthor.com/wordpress/?s=cassie+edwards

DA on LMB (Warning: lots of gushing here):

http://dearauthor.com/wordpress/tag/lois-mcmaster-bujold/

New Fic: For GMTH, in thanks for the many hours of reading Smutmas provided

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 13:14:54 GMT

Title: The Circle of Light
Author: Josan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gina's favourites.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm only playing with them.
Beta: sylvadin. Thank you, ma chère. Your comments are always what I need to read.
Summary: Nope. You're either going to going to read this or not, so why provide you with a summary? Besides, I have no idea how to summarise this.

Warnings: I've been reading John Preston, which means that this ficlet has been influenced by one of his novels. If you've read John Preston, I don't need to say more. If you haven't, what are you waiting for?

Warning 2: It may squick some of you, though there is nothing to do with bodily fluids, whips, the usual instruments that one associates with BDSM. In fact, it's amazing how a simple little Muggle item can be used so very effectively in the hands of a Master.

Dedication: This is in thanks for all the time and effort you, Gina, have put into this fest since Day 1. What a wonder you are! I shall miss the fest and the challenge of writing this particular pairing.

Because only for you, ma très chère Gina, would I ever write this pairing.

(Don't forget to act surprised, eh? :-)

**********

He stepped into the circle of light and waited. With more patience than anyone knowing him would have granted him.

He stood, head up, hair pulled back with a black ribbon, looking like the proud, aristocratic, pure-blood that he was. Generations of selective breeding had produced more than the filled Gringotts vault, more than the better-than-average magical skills. It was responsible for the pale, almost white hair, the strong chin, the aquiline nose, the heavily-hooded eyes and the mouth that more than hinted at his sensual nature.

He was the embodiment of all that was beautiful, all that was powerful among his kind.

And here he stood, in a circle of light, surrounded by dark, waiting.

He allowed himself a small sigh of frustration. He'd never been kept waiting this long before and it was beginning to irritate him. But it wouldn't do to be blatant about this annoyance and so, with effort, he stilled the need to wriggle, to demonstrate his superior status by walking away.

There was nothing, no one, stopping him from doing so.

Just the need for what was to come.

A footstep.

A soft, barely audible footstep.

He had been waiting for that sound and it sent a small shiver up his spine. Finally, at last! Though he dared not say it.

He understood the rules and speech was not one of them. Never one of them.

The footsteps came closer, stopping behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that the person – the man, for he well knew who it was – had stopped out of the range of the light.

Another waiting game, this one more nerve-racking because he had no idea what was to follow.

He came to this circle for that very reason. Never knowing. Anticipating.

Never disappointed.

The footsteps moved to the right of him, the man still in the dark.

Once, after standing behind him for the longest time, the footsteps had just continued on their way and all of Lucius's anticipation had erupted in anger.

The man had only laughed at him and pointed out that Lucius's need for punishment had not been denied. After all, wasn't not being punished a punishment of sorts? And that was the purpose of the game. Wasn't it?

Lucius, through gritted teeth, had been forced to admit that it was.

Moreover, the other had smiled, a smile that had sent more of those anticipatory shivers up Lucius's spine, since he never repeated himself, now Lucius never had to imagine that scenario ever again. Did he?

So, now, when the footsteps went off, Lucius knew that the game was still on. His nerves knew it as well and they made themselves known, for the man's never repeating himself was double-barrelled knowledge. Lucius remembered well all the details of previous encounters and knew they would not be repeated, without knowing what lay ahead.

Anticipation, he had well discovered, was quite an aphrodisiac.

No less this time.

His cock began responding to his anticipation.

He resisted the urge to touch himself. He knew better than to do so without permission. Should it be given. Which it rarely was.

The footsteps came closer to the circle, to just in front of him.

"Head down," snarled the voice. "Who do you think you are, looking at me? An equal? Bah!"

Lucius wanted to remind the man that he, Lucius Malfoy, was pure of blood but bit his tongue. In this particular situation, he was no longer the one with power. Once he had stepped within the circle, he had handed over all rights to the man.

He dropped his head so that his gaze was directed to the man's booted feet.

"Better."

Involuntarily, Lucius felt a sense of well-being rise in him at the tone of approval. It was probably going to be the last approval he would hear for some time and he would use it to build up his stamina to deal with whatever the man was planning for him.

His eyes downcast, he could only imagine what the sounds meant. A chair. Being dragged manually to whichever position the man judged correct. The slight 'whoosh' of a body settling against the padding of the chair, the sharp tattoo of fingernails against wood, against the arm of the chair.

"The robe, get rid of it. Slowly," the man chastised as Lucius's fingers had risen quickly to obey.

He held his breath but nothing happened. As gracefully as he could manage, trying to make the gesture as sensual as possible, Lucius did as commanded. He had hoped to garner some sign, no matter how small, of the man's interest, maybe his intent but, as usual, nothing.

He released the last button on the exclusively designed robe, an icy-grey silk that matched the colour of his eyes, and waited to shrug the garment off his shoulders, allowing gravity to take the heavy sleeves down his arms.

This was a dangerous game he was playing. Should the man take offense at the procedure, Lucius could well be left alone. He was, however, banking on the fact that the man did not repeat himself. Oh, there would be reprisal of some kind, but that was all part of the game.

From the sigh, Lucius sensed more amusement than annoyance. That boded well for the game.

The robe was now a puddle on the floor. He had, of course, been naked under it. Lucius stepped out of its folds, revealing that he was also barefoot. With an inbred sense of disregard for the expensive material, he kicked it aside so that it was partially out of the circle.

There was a snap of fingers and the robe rose into the air, hung there for a moment before disappearing into the dark.

"You won't be needing that. Not for a long while," promised the voice that seemed to Lucius to deepen into a register where each syllable stroked his overly-aware nervous system.

The nearly silent 'whoosh' warned him that the man had risen while the circulating footsteps told him that he was being inspected.

"Yes," said the man pensively, "yes, I think that'll do."

Lucius found he was bracing himself, his feet pressing down on the smooth floor, his muscles tensing in preparation. The satisfaction in the man's voice meant that a game plan had been selected and all Lucius could do was wait and accept.

And not speak.

If a word passed his lips, the game ended immediately and the man left him as he was.

Sounds were permitted, but it was a sense of pride with Lucius that they slipped out of him only when he positively could no longer hold them in. He could not do much in the circle, but he could try and deny the man the satisfaction of knowing he had won until Lucius could not deny his having lost.

And a Malfoy, he had had beaten into him, never admitted defeat.

Still, standing there, naked, open to the eyes examining him, it took all that he was not to grab his robe and stomp away.

It was only the need to receive what this man could give him that kept him there, standing, shivering, not from the cold because the circle was warm, but from need.

The chair moved closer to the circle so that Lucius could make out the pair of polished black half-boots of the crossed ankles when the man sat down.

"Keep still."

Lucius nodded his understanding of his instructions. The wait, he knew from experience, would be soon over.

What delicious torment...?

He gasped as something bite down on his right nipple.

It took him more than a moment to figure out what it was. The implement was not part of his experience, being, first of all, a Muggle item, and secondly, not anything he would ever have had to utilise.

A wooden clothes peg. One with a spring.

He had only before seen one in a book he had lazily taken off a shelf in the Hogwarts library many years ago.

The surprise of it took his attention away from the pain building up in his nipple, a pain that was augmented when a second clothes peg attached itself with enthusiasm to his left nipple.

Lucius felt...almost let down. A Muggle implement...on his body? When he thought of it, it was almost an insult. He who had never touched anything that was not of his world, never allowed his skin to come into contact with anything not made by the best couturier of his kind...

He nearly raised his head to confront the man.

Who was probably waiting for him to do so, thereby giving him permission to walk away.

Lucius took a deep breath, sent the insult away from his mind and waited.

The next clothes pin selected the soft skin by his armpit. Lucius controlled his wince. The small pieces of wood looked fairly innocuous. They were anything but he discovered as another snapped itself a small mouthful of skin from the fold of his hip.

They appeared, one after another, biting and never really allowing him the time to absorb the pain of their bites. Lucius was surprised to find it growing difficult to breath through the accumulated assault. Each, of itself, was merely an annoyance, but together...

They attacked one by one, settling on skin that Lucius was barely aware was part of him. His nipples hurt, true, and that he had expected for the man was fond of clamping them. But to discover that the skin at his armpit was as sensitive... That the tightness of his abs, a part of him that he did notice with pride as it was still flat, not a common occurrence in a wizard of his years, was no deterrence to the gaping mouths that fed off him... That the folds of his navel could be ringed in such surprising pain...

And all this the result of Muggle laundry items?

Lucius swallowed hard as he looked down at himself, at the lines of pins that decorated his torso in diagonals, from hip through navel to the opposite nipple and armpit, and wondered at the deviousness of such plain things.

"Arms out at shoulder level."

Lucius obeyed quite quickly for him, hoping that the pins would fly off. Well, some of them. Most certainly the ones that held only a very small bit of skin in their grip.

After all, these were Muggle creations. How well could they function?

All too well.

He heard a soft chuckle coming from the dark and knew that his action had been anticipated by the man.

As had the manacles that dropped from above and clamped onto his wrists, holding his arms tautly out and above, the fetters that suddenly appeared on his ankles, pulling his stance apart so that he now stood, feet at wider than shoulder distance.

There was no give in the fetters, none also in the manacles. These last were held in place not by chains but by a length of iron, which meant that no matter what was done to him Lucius could not escape by sagging or dropping to the floor.

He felt the first sense of disquiet.

He nearly raised his head.

"Do you wish to end this?" asked the man, disdain barely covered by concern.

Lucius nearly panicked. To end now meant that the man might not be prepared to play the game again when Lucius next needed it.

He shook his head.

The man stood up and approached the circle. Lucius tried to keep his eyes on the boots that just entered the circle. He did. But the need to see his tormentor...

The trousers were black, wool probably and fit the man as only trousers tailored for the wearer could. The only break in the colour was the small, discreet buckle of silver, which caught his eyes. He forced himself to look above. There was a shirt, in black also. Like the trousers, a black that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. A shirt, whose buttons were undone, which was closed in such a way that no skin could be seen until the upper chest where the opening material revealed a hint of black hair teasing the pale arrow of skin.

Lucius knew what that hair felt like. The rough-silkiness of it when it abraded his tortured nipples.

Would it happen this time?

He couldn't see the face. To have done so would have meant disregarding the order to keep his head down.

But he did see the man gesture with his hand and several clothes pins suddenly hover in the light. Lucius braced himself.

He had been right to do so as, in response to some gesture, they lined up along his biceps and one by one, alternating first one arm then the next, clamped onto the soft dangling skin from elbow to underarm.

Lucius gasped in shock at the build-up of pain. And remembered his grandmother. His father's mother. The old bitch. Who had never raised her voice in disapproval of his childhood behaviour. Who had never glared at him. All she had done was pull him close to her, in what others saw as a loving gesture, and with the tips of her fingernails, pinch the soft skin of his inner arm.

He remembered the sharpness of the pain had guaranteed that, whatever he had been doing that had caught her attention, would not be repeated and that she would just as calmly order one of the house-elves to beat him that night before bed.

He hadn't thought about that in years.

He did now, as tears welled in his eyes, as he bit his lips to hold back any expression of pain, as he had those long-ago days when he'd been beaten.

The man would not win, just as his father's mother hadn't, not at the end, when, at twelve, he had volunteered to take his turn in vigil by her bedside and had stood there, alone, having cast Silencio on the room, holding the bottle of potion that would have saved her life as she gaped unbelievingly at him.

The soft chuckle brought him back to the circle.

Lucius blinked back the tears to see another group of pins appear in the range of his vision.

He licked his swollen lips and wondered where...!

FUCK!

The soft skin of his inner thighs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, that... It more than hurt. It was... It was...

Dear Merlin!

It was making him hard!

The chuckle was louder. "Such a pain slut, you are."

Lucius closed his eyes and concentrated on controlling his response.

Not that he could do much about his cock. It behaved independently of his will at these times. Out of the circle, he was in charge. In the circle, he handed over authority of his body and his damn cock behaved as though it knew it. And it took advantage to get back at him for all the times he hadn't permitted it behave as it wanted.

The man stepped so that he was now behind Lucius.

Lucius tried to move his body. It was bad enough when those Muggle contraptions appeared in front of him, but behind? He tried to turn his head only to have it lurch forward from a hard slap. "Did I give you permission to look?"

Biting his lips, Lucius shook his head. He knew better, but the sudden fear of where those things were going to alight next...

Along the edge of his arse cheeks, from hip to arsehole.

Not that the pain was more severe than anything that had been done to him yet, but still, the fact that it had been a simultaneous grab on both buttocks...

Lucius finally caught his breath and remembered a previous time in this circle, the time with a cane, with a certain nostalgia.

The pins captured the flesh along the back of his ribs, first one side, then, once Lucius's gasps had calmed, the other.

The image of a hedgehog appear in his mind and it was all Lucius could do to stop a bout of hysterical laughter. Laughter was not an approved sound.

But the man had caught it and Lucius knew that his resemblance to the small rodent had increased when he felt the bites, one after the other, along the back of his thighs, down calves to ankles.

He had barely recovered from that when again with particular care, the man placed his toys of torment along the back of his knees.

Lucius bit down hard on his lips but couldn't prevent the moan from escaping. It was growing too hard to worry about such minor matters when his whole body felt aflame with aching, throbbing pain.

The man seemed to think it was enough for the nonce, as he went and sat down again, probably, thought Lucius, to see where else he could stick his vicious little toys.

His head hung low as, over long minutes, the build-up of pain didn't abate, his nervous system did not acclimatise to it and his bloody cock fed off it.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee penetrated his haze of self.

Lucius slitted his eyes open and used the excuse of the scent to sniff back some of the wetness that was dripping off his nose.

Coffee.

And his favourite brew, if he was not mistaken. Bloody bastard!

"Ah, feeling better. Good. Because we're not quite done."

Concentrating on the man rather than the limitless pain, Lucius identified the sound of cup on saucer, of saucer on table top, of the chair being pushed back...

When had all that arrived? How long had he been fighting his way through that haze of pain?

But the man was right there and was demanding his attention.

"Finding it a bit hard to focus, are you? Here, let me help."

The first pin clamped itself between his balls and perineum. The pain was such that Lucius blacked out for a moment.

"Oh, come now. You're made of sturdier stuff than that, surely? Must I remind you that you're a Pureblood?"

One day, Lucius swore to himself, he would wipe the mockery out of that voice.

He steadied himself and tried to take all the weight off the manacles. That would show the man just what blood meant.

"Not bad. Let's see how you respond to this."

He couldn't see for the tears that flowed when the wooden mouth settled between his balls.

"Nice delineation," commented the man. "You've always had balls, Lucius. No one's ever denied you that."

Lucius yelped when the pins took up the looseness of his scrotum.

"Nice balls, Lucius. The clichèd goose eggs."

Lucius tried to move his feet further apart, hoping that would relieve some of the pressure, with no success.

"You know, about the only part of you that I've neglected, other than your face...and that I shall not touch. Wouldn't do to send you home to Narcissa with anything obvious, now, would it? If I remember correctly, she doesn't approve of our little games. Pity. I think she would be really turned on by the picture you make."

Lucius whimpered.

"Yes, really beautiful. All that pain, still under control. And your wonderful cock, so responsive to it."

Lucius mewled.

"Ah, you've guessed. Still I wonder if that will be of any help whatsoever?"

The clothes pin the man called up did not select one place to rest. It bit at the base of his cock, allowing enough time for the pain to press its way past all the other, then it moved on, a centimetre at a time, up his wildly irresponsible responsive member, to the head where, after a flick of its longer ends, it settled with his unrolled foreskin clasped in its 'beak'.

The manacles were the only things keeping Lucius up.

So it was some time before he realised that the pins were releasing, one by one.

He wouldn't have thought that the pain could ratchet up so high but it did.

And with it came what he had been needing. Why he allowed the man to do what he did. The anguish in this body hovered then slipped beyond pain to the rarely attained world of pleasure.

A pleasure which sent him to the edge of consciousness.

A hand pulled back on his sodden hair, allowing his bleeding lips to close onto the glass that, tilted up, poured a dribble of cool water into mouth and throat dried and tight from unreleased profanity and screams.

He was barely aware of the care through the haze of pleasure.

But the care signalled...

It couldn't be over...could it?

He had won, hadn't he?

Not a scream had passed his lips. Not a word.

It shouldn't end, should it?

Now?

No.

There was still more blessed torment to come.

Not all the pins had been removed.

Through bleary eyes he could make out the two still on his chest, on senseless nipples.

And, when his head was released, he could see down himself to those on scrotum and cock.

His damn treacherous cock, ridding high against his bruised belly.

He nearly begged then.

The pain...

He needed a bit more to return to that wonderful world.

Lucius looked up and tried to find the face of the man, but it was back in the shadows.

"These," said the man, "I shall remove myself."

His nipples protested vehemently at their release.

Oh, bloody hell! He didn't want to faint, but it seemed like such a good idea.

Especially when the man flicked first one swollen nub then the other.

"Dear boy, if this is how you respond to such a minor play, how will you respond when I free your balls?"

Lucius nearly begged.

Then got what he wanted as his aching balls celebrated their freedom.

"I think that you are shamming, my friend. You moan and groan, you sag, you play at swooning, yet all the while your cock tells me that it is loving this game."

And it was.

It was hard, so very painfully hard.

"Pain, Lucius, adores you. And you it. I'll never understand why you fight it so much until the need for it sends you to this circle. We could have so much fun together playing the game outside the circle."

The offer was genuine, but it was one that Lucius would never allow himself to accept. Here, in the circle, he could pretend it wasn't he, not the real Lucius Malfoy, needing pain.

"But it would be a shame to leave matters as they are."

Oh, Merlin! Finally!

Lucius arched his hips forward, offering his cock.

First there would be pain, but that would be followed by the soothing touch of the man's hand on him, bringing him pleasure greater than the pain he had endured.

He could hardly wait.

His breathing grew faster, his nerves shivered, his muscles twitched.

The hand was reaching for the last pin.

Taunting him.

But release...

Oh, the blessedness of the release...

Lucius whimpered as the hand came closer to his aching cock...

"LUCIUS! Wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

Lucius Malfoy sat up panting and unaware of where he was.

"Lucius. You're in your bed. You're safe."

He blinked and looked around, not really seeing anything other than the small circle of light that surrounded Narcissa as she sat on the side of his bed.

"Nar...Narcissa?"

"Yes, my dear." Her voice had lost its sharpness and was all soothing. "It's all right, Lucius. You're not in Azkaban. We're in Malfoy Manor. Do you remember?"

Lucius dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed at the wetness he found there. He pulled up his knees in hopes of covering the erection that was now subsiding.

"Were you dreaming about Azkaban? You sounded in such torment."

Lucius knew that he had to get rid of her before he said something that would make their fragile relationship flounder or even be destroyed.

If she touched him...

His body ached so from the unresolved arousal of his dream.

"'Tsall right. Sorry I disturbed you." He dropped his hands, but didn't look up at her. Voldemort was dead and they were alive. That should have been enough. "Go back to bed." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm all right now. Go back to bed," he repeated.

She said nothing. Once she would have slipped into bed with him and held him until he'd fallen asleep once more.

No longer.

Now she rose and went out, taking the light with her.

Lucius slid back under the bedclothes, damp from his dream, and curled up on one side, ignoring his now softening cock. He pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them,

"Damn you," he whispered. "Damn you, Severus. You weren't supposed to die. Now who will play with me in the circle of light?"

*****The End*****

Smutmas fic, same old fandom: Part 2/2

jmann@happy.mondenet.com — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 15:56:53 GMT

Ron stood in the open doorway. He was panting as though he had run a marathon – which indeed, if one allows for dramatic exaggeration, he had, sprinting to the hut that had been pointed out to him by the selfsame young man who had escorted Harry.

Even though he was standing behind the distraught Ron, Harry noticed that the young man's sarong now revealed more than it should, a tantalizing bulge, a reddened glans that was gaping for air and attention. Had the young man been listening where he should not?

Harry glared his most potent glare at the young man, who blushed becomingly before realising that the glare meant business, and not of the pleasurable kind. With a fearful look over his shoulder, he scurried away, leaving behind in his hurry the swatch of red material, revealing that he was the bearer of nice, taut buttocks that, Harry mentally filed, might prove well worth investigating, but only if there was time.

Right now, he had an enraged Ronald Weasley with whom to deal.

Harry stepped so that he stood in front of Hermione, protecting her from Ron's furious gaze, unmindful of his now descending rod.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" he challenged, knowing that capturing the offensive was of topmost importance.

Ron sputtered, "What am I...I...I...?"

"I don't remember inviting you," said Harry coldly.

"Not invite me?" Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously. "No, you didn't. But you certainly seem to have invited my wife. My wife. Oh, Merlin, Hermione," his voice turned plaintive, "how could you?"

Hermione stepped out from behind Harry's protection. She planted her hands on her hips, jutting them out so that Ron's eyes slipped to her femininity, where, even though the thong was black, he could see that the material was shiny from the juices of her arousal.

"I am here, Ronald, because I am tired of the mundane, the everyday, the boring regularity of our sex life. I want adventure, I want new. I want...I want Harry!"

Ron dropped to his knees, curling up on himself at the pain of her rejection. "Oh, Hermione," he moaned.

Harry rolled his eyes. With a quick glance to ascertain that they were indeed alone, that the taut buttocks were out of hearing and sight, he closed the door to the hut, leaning non-chalantly against it. With a wave of his hand, he cast a silencing ward on the entire beach hut then crossed his arms over his chest and sighed deeply.

Hermione was glaring angrily at Ron who was shaking his head, moaning all the while, "No, Hermione, no."

"Actually, my dears," interjected Harry, "I quite agree with Ron."

Both looked at him, Hermione's eyebrows gathering in a frown, Ron's pulling farther apart in silent astonishment.

With a smile, Harry snapped his fingers and his wand appeared, hovering in front of him. With a graceful gesture, he took it in hand, waved it about and Hermione suddenly found herself sitting in one of the cushiony rattan chairs, the ropes of white streaming out of the tip of Harry's wand wrapping themselves around her, confining her to said chair so well that she could barely wriggle.

"Harry?" she whimpered, looking for all like a lost child.

"Harry?" Ron found his feet and stood, wand in hand, pointing it at Harry.

"Not a good idea, Ron." Harry's smile had a discomforting aspect to it. "I'm the one being touted for next Head, not you."

Before Ron could get more than the first syllable , "Ex...", out of his mouth, he found himself spread-eagled against the far wall of the room, stuck, unable to move.

Harry nodded, pleased. "Been working on that spell for some time now. I think I finally got the last of the kinks out of it."

Ron opened his mouth to speak and found that his tie – for he, too, was wearing Muggle garb – suddenly filled his mouth, making speech impossible.

Harry snickered. "You have horrid taste in ties, Ron. That one looks much better when used this way."

"Harry!" Hermione had stopped trying to get away from the ropes that held her. "Harry, what is going on? I don't understand..."

"You? Don't understand? The brilliant Hermione Granger, the witch of the century, not understanding? How gratifying, my dear," Harry mocked.

Ron's mutters were indiscernible, but Harry guessed, "What? Not speak to your wife like that? Really, Ron, a moment ago you were angry enough yourself with her to address her in a threatening manner. What does it matter how I speak to her?" Harry ambled up to where Ron was plastered against the wall. He stroked Ron's cheek with the back of a finger. Ron's eyes opened wide.

"After all, what does she matter to either of us?"

"Harry!" shrieked Hermione. "You...you bastard!"

"Now, now, my dear, what kind of language is that for a mother to use in the presence of the father of her children?" Harry gestured and the coat Ron was wearing suddenly appeared in the closet. "You're wearing far too much clothing, Ron. Let me deal with that for you." Another gesture and the shirt hung next to the coat."

Harry placed the tip of his index finger in the hollow of Ron's throat. As he spoke, the tip delineated Ron's collarbones, the lines of muscles in his chest, played with the nubs of his nipples and slowly zig-zagged its way down to the line of flame-coloured hair that descended from the deep navel to disappear behind the waistband of his trousers.

All the while ignoring the horrified faces on both his 'guests'.

"You see, Hermione, my dear, much as I appreciate your performance in bed – and what a hot little piece of arse she is, isn't she, mate? – it is not really you whom I want in my bed, under me. It is you, Ron. You, with your fine muscles, your flat stomach, your wonderful arse. You, whom I want begging me for orgasm, an orgasm that I will deny for as long as it pleases me. Whimpering, pleading for my touch, any kind of touch, be it hand or whip. Oh, yes, indeed, Ron: my whip. Whose arse will be filled, awaiting my rampant cock to take you, to use you as I will."

Ron was all the while trying to pull back from that exploring finger, but couldn't because there was no place to pull back. Harry shook his head at Ron's futile attempts.

"NO!" screamed Hermione.

Harry winced at the sound. "See, not what I want to hear. Don't you agree, Ron?"

With a wave of his hand, there was sudden silence. Even though Hermione was still obviously screaming, no sounds came out of her mouth.

"There, much better. Now," leered Harry, "where was I?"

Harry turned his back on the now reddening face of Hermione to encounter the blazing mien of the man he had under his power.

Harry smiled at him. "Ah, yes. I think I was about to show you how much you will want to co-operate with my wishes."

Ron shook his head wildly from side to side.

"Stop that, sweetheart. You'll give yourself whiplash." Harry shifted his weight to one hip, brought a finger up to his lips and dramatically mimed fake astonishment. "Talk about a segue way."

Ron's head stilled as he gaped at Harry.

"But you're still wearing far too much clothing for that."

Instead of using Magic, Harry's fingers nimbly undid the button on the waistband of Ron's trousers, rubbing lightly against the sensitive skin of Ron's waist as he did so.

Ron glared at him.

Harry's smile grew more lecherous.

He slowly undid one button at a time, allowing his fingers to caress the skin each one revealed.

"Why, Ron. Commando?" Harry grinned. "Whoever would have thought... My, my, Hermione, you never mentioned Ron's little proclivity. If you had, I would certainly have made it my priority to investigate Ron's...talents much sooner."

Ron's words were muffled by the tie, but Harry only smiled. "Oh, now. Methinks Ronny doth protest too much."

With a wave of his hand, the trousers disappeared revealing that – though it was not as impressive as Harry's equipment – Hermione had certainly no cause to complain about her husband's tool.

"Very nice." Harry stepped back to admire the view.

A naked Ron, skin a purer white than that of his wife, seeded here and there with a scattering of rust-coloured freckles, arms and legs lightly hued peach from the growth of soft hair, chest bearing only a pair of now pebbly nubs of rose-pink flesh rising on the hard pectoral mounds.

Harry smiled appreciatively as his eyes continued their appraisal, slowly descending.

Hard abs – for Ron was also in excellent shape, a necessity of his work as physical trainer for each new crop of Auror recruits – tight waist that led to narrow hips which framed the dense crop of flamed bush.

Legs were spread apart, allowing Harry to take his time to gaze on cock and balls that were nearly as nice as his own.

"You know," he sighed, "all those years we shared a dorm and showers at Hogwarts and I never had the time then to really...appreciate you, Ron."

He reached out with a hand and came close to touching, but didn't. Instead, his fingers caressed the air just above Ron's cock.

Which twitched.

Harry laughed softly. He turned to a wide-eyed Hermione. "I think, my dear, that you may not be the only one tired of your marriage bed."

She looked shocked at the idea.

Harry shrugged, catching the bathrobe as it slipped off his shoulders. "Yes, no need for this." He took it off and tossed it onto an empty chair.

With a wink at Hermione – she gasped, silently insulted – he strode over to the dresser, pulled open a drawer and removed a small leather bag that resembled a man's overnight kit. He brought it over to the bed, where he enlarged the bag before opening it.

"Now, then, let me see. What to start with?"

Hermione began trying to escape from her bonds once more. Harry looked up from his perusal of the toys he had brought with him. "Jealous, my dear? What? Did you think my little bag of goodies was just for your pleasure? Tsk, tsk. Really, Hermione. But still. It might be fun to show Ron just the kinds of things that turn you on. A learning experience. Maybe he'll be better able to satisfy you and you'll be less righteously judgmental over his performance. Though," here he turned to Ron and reached over to grab his flaccid member, quickly squeezing it and smiling at its response, "maybe you too shall learn what pleases him."

Ron moaned. Not so much in protest, Harry noted.

Harry went back to his bag and made a selection. "She's very fond of having her nipples gripped; did you know that?"

He strolled over to Hermione, who was now watching him through slitted eyes, reminding him of a feral cat about to spit. "Now, now, Hermione. Behave yourself, or I'll punish you. Oh, not like that. I'll ignore you and your delicious body. You'll hate that, won't you?"

Harry walked around the chair and stopped at the back. "Now then, Ron. Watch to learn how your lady wife likes to be treated with anything other than kid gloves." He then leaned over and grabbed Hermione's breasts, hauled them out of the demi-tasse cups and squeezed hard enough that Hermione closed her eyes, tilted her head backwards, mouth open – though even Ron could tell it was not in objection to what Harry was doing to her.

Eyes on Ron, Harry bent over a shoulder and bit on the flesh that mounded between his fingers.

Hermione jerked.

The rise and fall of Ron's chest indicated that his breathing was far more rapid than it had been while Harry had been teasing him.

Harry moved just enough so that Ron could see the oval imprints of his teeth over the reddened outline of his hands. "Seems a little unbalanced, don't you agree?"

Ron only continued staring.

Harry bent over Hermione's other shoulder and repeated the dental imprints. "Yes, much better. Symmetry is so important, I believe."

Grinning, he called something over from his bag. "These are her very favourites. Aren't they, my dear?" The nipple clamps were in the shape of crocodiles, the clamps being the teeth that latched onto the protruding rouged flesh with great enthusiasm. "Picked these up in Egypt. Your brother Bill knows the most interesting little shops in Cairo. You should ask him about that the next time you visit him."

Harry gave Hermione's breasts a last squeeze, the imprint of his hands red against the soft globes. The little crocs flicked their tails in delight.

"Now, as I was saying, symmetry is so important."

He went up to Ron and grabbed his pecs – hard. Then harder still. Though the flesh was not as soft as Hermione's, it also mounded out between his fingers. Harry leaned into his grip, his eyes watching Ron for reaction.

Ron's eyes narrowed. No sound tried to escape from behind the tie that filled his mouth.

Harry smiled, pecked a teasing kiss on the stubble-roughened cheek closest to him and stepped back. "So, it's going to be like that, is it? You're challenging me? Oh, such fun, my Ron. We're going to have such fun, you and I."

The imprint of his hands on Ron's chest was darker and deeper than it had been on Hermione. Harry could even see the small crescents of his nails indenting the hard muscular mounds. With a snap of his fingers, something flew out of the bag to his hand.

"Matching pair. I do like to prepare for any eventuality, as you well know. A hard lesson learnt, but one that even you would acknowledge that I did learn. No more foolishly rushing in where wise men fear to tread. I think you'll like these."

The crocs latched on with far greater enthusiasm than they had on Hermione – almost as though they sensed that anything done to this body could be more intense. They almost purred with happiness.

Ron's mouth had tightened on the bite. His eyes teared a little, but he refused the droplets permission to leave his eyes.

Harry nodded approvingly. "Yes, well done, Ron. Now then, for a few more accessories."

Hermione, panting lightly, braced herself. Ron caught her response and his eyes went from her to Harry.

"Hermione likes extreme climaxes, so she has to wait a long time before she's allowed to come. But since she won't be the focus of my attention, I'll give her something to...shall we say, keep her occupied?"

Hermione licked her lips, swallowing hard. Harry stopped, looked at her then at Ron. "No, the line of sight is not right. I want her to see everything I do to you, Ron. Women, you know, respond far more to the visual that we give them credit for."

He checked the angle several time before he was satisfied and called Hermione's chair over to the far side of the bed where she had an unobstructed view of the wall where Ron was hanging. The chair shuffled slowly, as though afraid its load would prove too heavy for the woven rattan. But, finally, after obeying the few adjustments Harry indicated, it settled, with a sigh of its weave, where Harry wanted.

"There. This spot has the added advantage that Ron can also see what I do to you without any interference."

Harry, once more behind Hermione, reached down and tore the flimsy mesh that was the front of her thong. Hermione arched as much as she could.

Ron wriggled – or tried to – in protest.

Hermione merely licked her lips again.

A snap of fingers and a large – impossibly large – purple phallus rose from the bed, passed in front of Ron's astonished eyes, hovered a moment for him to get a good look at it before moving over to Harry.

"Yes, another of Hermione's faves. A little hard for either of us, no matter how well hung we are, to live up to, but then what man is ever thick enough to satisfy a woman's fantasy? But watch how she opens up for it."

Harry released several of the ropes holding Hermione in place, allowing her hips some freedom of movement. He reached down with a finger and took up some of her female juices to slick the phallus, making it glossy before taking the base in his hand. "Now watch, Ron. See how she likes to be teased with it before it goes in." He rubbed the head up and down the soft tissue of her labia. Hermione slouched as much as she could, lifting her hips to allow him more room to play in. Harry grinned and allowed the head to find the vagina before shoving it in with an abruptness that had Ron wincing.

Hermione's eyes closed, her mouth opened and her hips shifted so that the base could rub against her clitoris with a little effort on her part.

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. That won't do you much good. I've been working on this other little spell. No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to get any pressure from it at that point. Still," he moved so that he was facing her, "I'm certain you won't believe me. But experimenting should keep you busy enough for me to concentrate," he turned to Ron, "on you. Mind, Hermione, watch. You don't want to miss what I'm going to do to your husband."

With hand on hip, Harry assumed a mock contemplative pose. "I believe I said something about symmetry. Wouldn't do to forget about that now."

Harry snapped his fingers once more and once more a large purple phallus – as large as the other – rose from the bag.

Ron's eyes seemed to pop out of his head. Small beads of sweat appeared up on his forehead. He looked incredulous.

"Well, yes, I agree. It's a bit large for the uninitiated, but I promise I will take my time. After all," Harry smiled ruefully, "you're not Hermione."

Ron's muttered protests were ignored as Harry gestured and Ron's legs were slowly raised off the wall– but still under Harry's control as Ron quickly found out – so that his arse was more readily available.

Harry shook his head at the muffled sounds. "I think I want to hear you as I insert this into your lovely arse, Ron. I don't know if you know this, but I used to listen to you whenever you wanked in bed at Hogwarts. I know you always used a silencing spell, but yours were never all that good. I could slip by and listen to the delightful sounds you made."

Ron looked horrified then embarrassed.

"Oh, now, now. Don't be like that. You made the most glorious little squeaks and moans as you came. I think I want to hear those as well. Though they might be some time in coming," Harry snickered.

He called over a jar of ointment. "One of the problems with males is that they really don't come with their own lubrication. Not like Hermione who's dripping wet the moment you touch her. Ah, not for you? Well, as I said, a learning experience for both of you."

He'd used the time to generously grease the dildo he intended to use to prepare Ron. He came over to the man, showed him the details on the phallus – to Ron's wide-eyed horror – before whispering in his ear, "Trust me, you're going to like this."

With a laugh, Harry crouched so that his mouth was level with Ron's arsehole. He braced himself against Ron's hip while he nosed the back of Ron's cock, the darkening dangling balls.

Ron squirmed – or tried to.

With a final nudge, Harry abandoned the tightening scrotum to flicker his tongue around the puckered muscle.

Ron yelped.

His arsehole twitched.

Harry leaned in closer, bracing his other hand on Ron's buttock and tried to push his tongue into the now tightly clenched hole.

Ron squeaked as Harry sucked hard on the pucker. The muscle loosened and Harry's tongue darted in.

Ron's hips tried to buck. Harry pushed his tongue in farther, flickering it in and out several times before standing up and laughing at the shocked expression on his captive's face.

Reaching down with a greased finger, Harry found the small – once more tightly clenched – puckered entrance. He teased it with the tip of his finger, in a circular motion, until he felt the tightness loosen. With a small grin, he inserted finger into arsehole.

Ron jerked.

Harry smiled and ordered the tie to the floor.

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

Harry said nothing, grinned and rotated the finger.

Ron snarled, "Just wait until I get off this wall, you creep!"

Harry inserted a second finger, not all that gently.

Ron winced.

Harry bent his fingers, looking for...

"YOU FREAKING CUNT!"

...and finding a certain spot that had Ron gasping.

And unable to talk.

Harry rubbed it again and Ron tried hard not to whimper.

"Nice, eh? If you liked that," Ron wildy shook his head back and forth; Harry ignored his protests, "you're really going to like this." Without waiting for a response, Harry inserted a third finger and, with a rotating movement, got the muscle loosened enough for his satisfaction.

Ron gasped.

Harry pressed down hard on Ron's joy spot, pulled his fingers out and started to insert the phallus before the muscle could do more than close about it.

"Now then, let's see how long this is going to take."

With steady pressure, Harry pushed up against the phallus. Ron opened his eyes and closed his upper teeth on his lower lip. He glared at Harry the entire time – several long minutes – as Harry slowly manoeuvred the hard matter up his arse, filling him.

At one point, Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione. Ron's eyes followed him.

She was watching, tongue slowly tracing her lips as her hips rocked the little they could.

Harry moved, giving her a better view of the purple mass being absorbed by Ron's arse.

"Beautiful sight, don't you agree?"

Hermione swallowed hard then nodded.

"Bitch," whimpered Ron.

Harry shook his head and, with his free hand, lightly slapped Ron across the face. "Now, now. You watched when she got hers and you liked it. Don't try to tell me otherwise, Ronny. I was watching your cock. So," his voice harshened, "drop the hypocrisy. It turned you on. Turn about is only fair play."

And he gave the phallus a final little twist that had Ron whimpering. "There. Nicely ensconced. And they both come with a nice little spell that leaves them in until I say the word. So don't bother trying to eject it, my sweet," Harry stroked Ron's cheeks before giving each a sharp slap, "because it won't work."

"Bastard," murmured Ron.

Harry laughed. "Oh, you are so going to need punishment for that."

Ron refused to react to the taunt.

"But you're going to need at least another of my little toys before we get to that. I know. This is breaking symmetry, but blame it on evolution."

Harry went over to the bed, sat on it and smiled at the image Ron made, legs high in the air, the purple base of the phallus cupping the space between his hole and the back of his balls.

In spite of his protests to the contrary, Ron's cock seemed to have appreciated the use of the phallus. It was not rigid, but it certainly was nowhere near as flaccid as it had been.

Harry reached for something from his bag. "A little something so that things don't get out of control. My control, that is."

He held up the cock ring so that Hermione could see it. "You're not going to appreciate this as much as I am, but after all, it's my pleasure here that's more important."

Ron licked his lips. Harry's eyes followed the pink tip.

"Oh, yes, my pleasure."

Ron refused to look at Harry when the man approached him. He stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes when Harry gripped his traitorous dick in a slicked hand and began the kind of stroke that Harry knew Ron himself preferred.

"Oh, you hadn't really believed me when I said I'd listened in, had you? Slow, like this. Then a rub on the head, a rotation and then... Yes, just like that. Just hard enough for this to slip on and...Oh, by the way, these are called the Gates of Hell. The name is rather revelatory. You will think yourself in the hands of a devil before this is over."

"Dark Lord," spat Ron.

Harry shook his head sadly. "Definitely, punishment is needed."

He stepped back and pointed out to Hermione, "See how, in spite of all his protests, his dick knows better."

Hermione's face was spotted with beads of sweat.

"Turns you on as well. If I had known, I would have invited Ron to join us, my dear."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Potter!"

Harry tsked. "I said I wanted to hear sounds, not words, Ron. Another lesson you need to learn."

He stepped back to examine his victim. After a moment, Harry nodded. "Yes, I think that should take care of the front. Now for the back."

With a muttered word and a wave of his hand, Ron was suddenly facing the wall, spread-eagled once more. His hands were drawn above his head and, with another snap of Harry's fingers, the tie rose off the floor to wind itself around Ron's wrists.

"A spell would do the same, but I feel the visual adds a certain spice to the picture. Don't you agree, Hermione?"

Harry looked at the woman who was trying to rock some pressure onto the base of the phallus in her. "No, my dear. Try all you want, but as I already explained, I added a special spell to that dildo just for you. It won't give you what you want. But I won't stop you trying."

With a grin that would have made any watcher run for cover, Harry turned back to Ron. "Beautiful," he said softly. "All that lovely white skin, just begging for colour. A canvas is what you are, my Ron. A canvas that is in need of my special attentions."

"When we get out of here..." snarled Ron, his voice muted by the wall that was pressing against his face.

Harry tut-tutted.

Ron suddenly found himself being rubbed lightly against the wall. He couldn't stop the moans from escaping his mouth.

"Ah, the crocs love that, don't you find? I can hear them purring. And your cock. Any kind of friction should produce the most delightful results. Growing harder and no way of dealing with that until I allow it." Harry laughed softly as his hand caused Ron to rub a few more times against the wall.

"Prick!"

Harry shook his head, more for Hermione's sake than Ron's. "Ah, yes, I believe I said something about punishment."

He ambled over to the bed and the toys laid out for his selection.

"Now I know for a fact that Molly never allowed that kind of language in her home. I'm certain she would approve of what I am about to do." He reached for a suede flogger, flicked it a couple of times as though trying to get a feel for its balance.

He turned to Hermione, who was watching him with heavily-lidded eyes.

"One of your favourites. Still, I don't think this one will do for Ron. Let's leave it for your next visit, shall we? No, something a little more instructive for Ron. Something that will let him know that I mean it when I say all I want to hear coming out of his mouth are sounds, not words."

He dropped the flogger onto the bed and picked up a length of stout leather.
"Let's see how he reacts to this."

With no other warning, Harry took up position to one side of Ron and brought the strap down, across the white globes of buttocks.

Ron squeaked at the shock.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I think this will do nicely." He brought the strap down again.

Ron cursed into the wall.

Harry shook his head. "These keep on coming until I feel certain you'll know to keep your mouth shut...unless I order differently."

Another stroke and Harry stepped back to examine the lines of red that now decorated the white orbs.

"Fuck you," muttered Ron through clenched teeth.

Harry shook his head and angled his next downstroke to cross the lines of red.

Ron jerked and cursed.

Harry grinned. "I do love a stubborn man. It makes capitulation so much more delicious." He leaned over and rubbed the red lines roughly. Ron moaned.

Harry looked over at Hermione who was once more rocking on her chair. By now she had to know that she could never get any pressure against her clit, but Harry didn't think that she was even aware of her body's movements. Her eyes were glued on Ron's arse and she was licking her open-mouthed lips.

"Oh, yes, we really should have invited Ron to join us before today."

Harry smiled as he looked down at himself. He, too, was not immune to the sight of a well-built male spread out for his pleasure, awaiting further discipline.

He brought the strap down even harder and Ron nearly managed to pull himself away from the wall.

Harry laughed softly. "That's for all the foul names you called me. This one," the room resounded with the sound of leather striking flesh, "is for that Dark Lord crack."

He leaned over and rested his chin against Ron's shoulder blade. "You may call me Master before I'm through, but never Dark Lord."

Ron managed to turn his face enough so that Harry could see it was streaked with tears. "Never!"

Harry sighed. "Never say never, dear heart. That has a way of coming back and biting you." And he crouched so that his mouth – and teeth – had access to the heat-emitting globes. With a smirk thrown Hermione's way, he traced the lines that crossed the flesh with his teeth, deep enough so that they would remain for some time.

"Pervert!" Ron gasped through his groans of pain.

Harry laughed. "No wonder Hermione came to me. You are such a Puritan, Ronny."

And he pressed against the dildo that was nestled in Ron's arse.

Ron moaned.

Harry moved Ron up a little so that he could once more return his attentions to the scrotum that now hung so temptingly before him.

Ron did his best to muffle his response.

Harry substituted tongue and teeth for nose and got more of the sounds he'd wanted from Ron. The muscles in Ron's thighs spasmed as though he were trying to move them further apart. Harry waved his hand and Ron's hips were no longer plastered to the wall.

He took one of the egg-shaped testes into his mouth and sucked. Ron moaned and his hips jerked slightly – almost involuntarily.

Harry looked over his shoulder to check that Hermione was watching. She was. Mouth open, eyes nearly shut, her hips wriggling, body glistening with her arousal.

Harry reached up and slipped his hand between the wall and Ron. He smiled as he found what he wanted, then encouraged Ron's cock to surge against its restraints.

Ron whimpered.

Harry grinned. "I think," he whispered, "Ron understands."

Leaving his hand where it was, Harry rose to his feet. As he continued caressing, his mouth traced the line of Ron's spine, nibbling now and then on a twitching muscle. His free hand stroked flank, its fingers reaching over to lightly skim on the tight abs that twitched delightfully in response to the teasing.

When Ron's head titled backwards, Harry drew Ron down with a motion – and to a musical accompaniment as Ron's now sensitised body rubbed against the wall. Harry kept on moving him down until his nibbling, sucking, teasing mouth had easy access to the back of Ron's neck and, eventually, to an earlobe.

"See," whispered Harry. "This is what you wanted, my pet. This is what you've needed. Someone to take responsibility for you, to see to your pleasure. I can do that. I can make you come like you've never come before. If you think I'm exaggerating, you need only ask Hermione. When I make her come, I blow her head off."

As he spoke, his hands continued playing with Ron's flesh, arousing him, moving him back up against the wall until the scent of his arousal mingled in the room with those of Harry's and Hermione's.

Harry inhaled appreciatively. "Take a deep breath, Ron, and tell me that what you smell isn't worth waiting for."

Almost against his will, Ron inhaled.

"Nice, eh?" Harry pulled the phallus out just enough so that, when he pushed it back in, Ron shuddered and moaned.

Harry nodded and did it again. "You like that, don't you?" Again and Ron's moan was deeper, rougher.

Harry's voice turned seductive. "But all it is is a piece of plastic. Just think what it would feel like to have my dick deep in you, pumping into you, finding just the right spot...over...and over...and over again."

He pushed the dildo in for a last time. "This fills you, opens you up for me, but it won't give you the pleasure that you need, the release. Only I can do that."

Ron's hips bucked.

"Pleasure, long-delayed pleasure, Ron. None of this quick Saturday night crap. A long, drawn out session with me finally granting you the right to come. I promise you'll come like you've never come before."

Ron whimpered.

"All you have to do is as I say."

Ron cleared his throat. "Ca...call you...master."

Harry smiled as he stepped back. "That's all you have to do. Put yourself in my hands, Ron, and admit, after I make you come, that I am a master. Your master."

"Her...mi..."

"Oh, she gets to watch. That's part of the pleasure, Ron. Knowing that there are eyes on you, eyes that want you – because she does want you, always has, you know. I'm just a diversion. I deal with her pent-up frustrations from work and other things. Like I want to deal with yours.

"Think of it, Ron, all the crap from work, from the annual stupidity of the Voldemort celebrations. I can help you get rid of them, make it easier to deal with them in the future. Just allow yourself to give yourself over to me."

Ron made a small sound of indecision.

Harry carefully used his hands to further arouse his new sub. "Pleasure like you've only dreamt of, Ron."

Ron gasped as Harry's hands found his bound cock and played with it, making him moan from denied completion.

Harry smiled to himself. "I'm going to release you now. When I do, I want you to go over to Hermione and get on your hands and knees in front of her. Don't worry, you'll both like what I want you to do. I'll never hurt you. Well, never really hurt you. There will be times you'll have to be punished. I think you're going to need the punishment to convince yourself that you deserve the pleasure, but that's all right. I don't mind punishing you." His fingernails scored the lines of red. "Will you do as I ask, Ron?"

Ron swallowed loudly. "I...Oh, Merlin! I... Yes. Yes, I will."

"Excellent. But who am I?

Ron sounded confused. "Who? You're... Oh."

Harry shifted his weight onto and hip and waited. "Oh, indeed," he encouraged.

Ron's voice was low, as though that would make the word less powerful. "Master."

Harry stepped back and waved his hand. Slowly, Ron slid down the wall until his feet touched the floor. He took a moment or two to steady himself then turned to face Hermione.

His rampant cock was dripping, straining against the Gates of Hell; his balls dark with unreleased passion. His nipples were white against the dark green of the crocs' mouths. The paleness of his skin made the red bush at his groin seem aflame.

He staggered over to Hermione and dropped to his hands and knees in front of her.

And waited for Harry's instructions.

Harry came to stand beside him. He patted Ron on the shoulder. "Good lad."

Hermione stopped wriggling and waited to see what was going to be done to her. Ron glanced up at Harry and waited to see what he was going to be asked to do.

"For a first lesson," Harry said, "you need to learn to obey my orders immediately. If not..." Harry dangled the strap in front of Ron's eyes before lightly caressing his arse with it. "In fact, just to refresh your memory..."

The strap came down harder than it had.

Ron groaned but said nothing as his body absorbed the shock.

"Ah, so you remembered that I didn't want words. See, not that hard to give me what I want. As a reward..." Harry rubbed the base of the phallus, making it move in Ron, then quickly squeezed Ron's balls tightly. "Pain, but pleasurable pain. Odd, isn't it, but it works."

Ron dropped his head and accepted.

Harry patted him on the head.

"Now then, Hermione is responsible for your being here and I think we need to reward her for that fact."

Harry waved his hand and the phallus slowly pulled out of her vagina.

"She's very wet, isn't she. Look at how wet that dildo is. I think, Ron, that you need to clean it off before I put it away."

The dildo hovered just in front of Ron's mouth. Looking up, he bit his lips before opening his mouth. The dildo came closer. The only sounds that filled the room were those of slurps as Ron cleaned the dildo with his tongue and then his mouth.

Harry waited until Ron seemed to feel he had done as asked. "Open wide."

Ron hesitated. The strap came down and his mouth opened. The dildo slipped in slowly, until the gagging sounds settled and Ron had more than half of the monster phallus inserted in his mouth. Harry gripped the hair at his hips and held the head steady against his hip as he ordered, "All in. Swallow."

The gagging sounds returned and Ron began to try to pull away from Harry. Harry only gripped the hair tighter and managed to enforce the order with another stroke or two of the strap.

Harry waited until Ron's face had turned a deep shade of red before gesturing the dildo out of his mouth. As Ron tried to regain control of his breathing, Harry chastised him. "You're going to have to please me better than that, pet. My cock is close to that size and length when it's fully erect. And I love the feeling of throat closing on it. My pleasure. Remember, it's all about my pleasure."

He turned to Hermione, who was watching, skin flushed from the top of her bustier to her face. There was a small pool of liquid that had slipped out of her vagina onto the seat of her chair. "Be a good lad and lick that clean for me."

Ron moved his head enough so that he could lap up the secretions.

"While you're there, clean her off as well."

Ron glanced up at Harry as though checking for confirmation. The strap provided it. He yelped and buried his face in his wife's crotch. Hermione closed her eyes and managed to spread her legs further apart so that Ron's face fit in better.

Harry kept on caressing Ron's head, tugging now and then on the hair so that Ron pulled back and Harry could inspect his work. "Now then, you know your wife. Or you should. Bring her to the edge, but don't allow her to come. If she comes before I give permission, I won't allow you to come, no matter how prettily you beg."

Harry waited until the couple was well taken by Ron's actions to allow Hermione the use of her voice once more. Her gasps and moans were music to his ears. He even pretended not to see Ron's hand rise to stroke his bound cock, trying to grant it release of any kind. Harry grinned. Ron would soon learn that any kind of stimulation would only increase the need for release, not grant it.

Hermione's moans were rising in pitch when Ron slowly pulled back.

"No, Ron! Please!"

Ron looked up as he licked the wetness off his lips, and Harry nodded approvingly.

"Now, I think it's time for you to pay attention to me."

With that, he pulled Ron's face to him, and offered up his rod for Ron's attentions. "Remember what I said about my pleasure."

Ron gulped audibly. Close up, Harry's cock was huge. It was a good eight and a half inches long and wider than a hand span at base. Ron took a deep breath and began paying the proper respect that the tool demanded. He took his time slicking it down with his lips, spreading the pre-come dripping from the head. Then, when Harry indicated with a tug on his hair that he was losing patience, Ron opened his mouth wide and began taking in his Master's organ.

It was a slow process but Harry allowed him to grow used to the mass invading his mouth and, eventually, his throat.

To the sounds that emitted muffled from Ron, Harry had the added delight of hearing Hermione's as her unsatisfied arousal began abating. She watched in wonder as her husband's mouth absorbed a tool that she herself had never been able to deal with, at least not more than the head.

Harry wondered if she could hear the wonder in her own voice when she murmured, "Oh, Ron!"

Ron, however, seemed to be too taken up with his chore to pay any attention to her.

Harry waited until he knew that Ron had done his best, on this, his first attempt, to pull back. No use in discouraging his newest sub before he had mastered the act.

He patted Ron on the head as the man panted, filling his lungs with much needed air.

"Stand up."

Ron, eyes warily on the strap dangling at Harry's side, rose quickly. Harry nodded. "Now, lean over so that Hermione can have access to your cock. After all, just because you can't come just yet doesn't mean that you can't have some enjoyment."

Cautiously, Ron braced himself on Hermione's chair so that his cock bounced slightly in front of her mouth. Hermione looked at Harry.

"If you don't do as I say, I won't let you come."

She opened her mouth, her teeth clicking lightly against the steel of the rings. Ron moaned as her mouth took him in, as her tongue played against the rings. His head drooped and his hips bucked until the strap landed against his arse.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Ron whimpered and shook his head.

"Then don't."

Hermione suddenly got into the game because she began using her mouth, her tongue and her lips in such a manner that had Ron whimpering as his muscles twitched from the effort of not moving.

Harry went to stand behind Ron, using his hands to further inflame his sub, who was still doing his best not to move.

"Please!"

Harry laughed. "Now, now, no talking. I've got a cock gag that will fill that mouth of yours perfectly if you do so again. Sounds. Remember, only sounds."

Ron did his best to comply, but both Hermione and Harry seemed in agreement that it should be difficult – if not impossible. Ron's body was shivering, the small tremors running up and down his skin from his effort not to give them what they wanted.

Harry laughed lightly as he stepped away. Ron dropped to his knees, his head resting on his wife's thigh. With a need for some revenge, he turned his head and played with her clitoris until she was squirming.

Ron stopped just as Harry had decided to step in. Ron settled back on his heels, head down as he surreptitiously – or thought that was what he was doing – tried to find some ease.

He found himself against the wall, spread-eagled once more.

"No," was all Harry had to say.

Ron couldn't meet his eyes.

Harry came up to him and shook his head. "Punishment takes many forms, pet."

He reached for his wand and watched as Ron realised that invisible hands were caressing his body, stroking him, playing with his balls, with the phallus in his arse, arousing him until he reached the edge of pleasure/pain.

Harry sent the hands away and Ron sagged against the wall.

"Only I, my pet. Only I."

He stepped up close to Ron. "Tell me, pet, do you want release?"

Ron gulped, panting.

"I'll take that as a yes. Do you want my cock up your arse, filling you?"

Ron gulped again, glancing down at the living twin to the phallus in him. He met Harry's eyes and then dropped his. He nodded.

Harry smiled. "But Hermione also needs release, don't you agree?"

Ron glanced over at the woman who had driven him to the edge of unattainable release. He inhaled deeply then nodded, almost reluctantly.

Harry grinned. "Yes, well, maybe you can repay her for that little bit of fun she had."

He picked up his wand and suddenly, Hermione found herself in the bed, arms pulled to the posts, tied there by the white magical ropes that were under Harry's control. The motion pulled her breasts out of the cups of the bustier. Her crocs wriggled with the sudden freedom. Her black-clad legs were spread wide apart and her ankles were also tied down. The needle-heeled shoes added a sense of danger to the image.

"A real picture," said Harry with approval. "I love the contrast of black against all that white skin. Of course, I do prefer a contrast of red on white." He smiled at Ron, who looked worried.

"Now, now. I have no intention of fucking your wife. Well, not today. No matter how enticing she is."

Another wave of his wand and Ron found himself face down on the bed, his head resting on his wife's abdomen.

He looked up at her and then over his shoulder at Harry.

"Yes."

Ron's grin had Hermione wriggling on the bed.

Harry laughed. "Payback time."

Ron took his time. He knew that portion of his wife's body well and he used his knowledge to have her writhing on the bed, voice pleading with him.

Harry sniffed appreciatively at the scents that filled the room. He was as much turned on by the aromas of arousal as he was by the sights and the sounds.

He waited until Ron seemed fully taken with his bringing his wife close but never over the edge to join them on the bed. He knelt between Ron's legs and tugged on the man's hips until they rose. As Harry played with Ron's cock, he slowly removed the phallus, twisting it as he did so, getting Ron's attention. He had to slap him on a reddened buttock for Ron to return his attention to Hermione.

Harry tossed the dildo to one side and inserted a finger into the opening. Yes, there was more than enough lube so that he could...

Ron lost his concentration when Harry slipped several fingers into his arse, playing about until they found the spot that had him whimpering with frustration.

Harry's slap reminded Ron that he had other things to do with his mouth.

Once Ron was more focused, Harry aligned himself then slammed his rod into the welcoming hole.

Ron stilled and let out a whimper.

Harry grabbed hold of Ron's hips and rode him for all he was worth.

Ron buried his face in Hermione's crotch and her voice rose in pitch.

"Let her come, now," ordered Harry, panting.

Hermione's scream was loud in his ears. Harry grinned ferally as he reached down and, with a snap of his fingers, the Gates of Hell disappeared.

Ron lifted his head as Harry's fingers gripped his aching cock. A few pulls had Ron's hips rocking back into Harry.

"Now. Come for me, my pet!"

Ron's howl reminded Harry of werewolves at the full moon.

Ron's arse muscles continued milking him until Harry, with a sense of a job well done, allowed himself to come.

**********

EPILOGUE

They were lying in bed, Harry on one side of Ron, Hermione on the other.

Harry was the first to wake. He gestured lazily to send both sets of crocs back to their places until the next time they were needed.

He settled his head on Ron's shoulder and dozed contentedly.

Hermione stretched slowly against Ron's body and sighed happily. She reached over and stroked Harry's arm.

"That was something," she murmured.

"Yeah," agreed Harry, sleepily.

"Told you," murmured Ron, voice heavy with post-coital satisfaction.

Harry chuckled. "Your plot wasn't bad, but the dialogue..."

"What was wrong with the dialogue? There was nothing wrong with my dialogue!"

"'Unhand my wife, you dastardly villain'?" Harry raised his head to scowl at his lover. "Crappy dialogue."

Hermione snickered. "So speaks the writer who had us using grape jelly as lubricant last time."

"So? I didn't hear you complaining when we licked it out of you."

"I had to douche to get it all out of me. Pervert."

"Better than the sand," Ron said. "Remember that scene you had us play on the beach in Fiji, Hermione? I mean, I never knew sand could get in those places. So, if all you two have to complain about is dialogue, well, you can just shut up."

They lay quietly, recovering from the afternoon's game.

Hermione snuggled closer to Ron as Harry nestled a leg between Ron's.

"Good, eh?" Ron grinned.

"Yeah, it was." Harry sighed. "I needed that. The office has just been hell these past weeks."

"No shop talk." Hermione pushed herself up onto an elbow. "We're on holiday."

Ron grunted and pulled his arms back so that his head rested on his hands. "You sure Ginny doesn't mind not coming with us?"

Harry shook his head. "She hates these little holidays of ours. Can't understand why we all need to get away from the office. I tell her we don't all live and breathe Quidditch like she does."

"She's very understanding," said Ron.

Harry shrugged. "She doesn't ask what we get up to on these jaunts of ours and I don't ask her what goes on in the Holyhead Harpies dressing room when they win a game. Or when they lose."

"They're not doing much of that these days," said Hermione. "Bets are that they'll represent Britain in the next World Cup."

"Enough small talk," said Ron. "On to Act II."

Hermione met Harry's eyes over Ron's body and they both rolled them.

"I just don't see..."

"Hey! We agreed. No cracks about personal kinks." Ron smiled and he raised his arms even higher.

Hermione sighed, then giggled. Harry reached down for his wand and Accio'ed a small package from his briefcase.

He shook his head as he reached up to capture the cellophaned tube. "I just don't get why it has to be Nilla wafers."

***** That's it!*****