Harry has a bit of a Saving-People-Thing. For once, it turns in his favor.
Pamela’s fingers tapped against the table. “I see.” She lifted her now cold cup of tea to her lips, and took a refreshing drink.
Harleen chuckled nervously, sitting across from the small round table in their kitchen. “So you’re not mad at me?”
She lowered her mug, and for the second time in the past hour, Harley was paralyzed by the green eyes piercing through her. “I didn’t say that. I said ‘I see.’”
Harley shrunk under her gaze, and she rubbed her thighs together. Her body didn’t know the difference when Ivy was legitimately pissed, or when she felt her girlfriend needed to be… punished.
So did her mind, sometimes. Considering the vines in the rest of the expansive greenhouse haven’t approached her to hold her arms, she correctly assumed that her lover was, at the moment, anything but.
“What… what was I supposed to do, Red? He had me tied up!” She pleaded with her girlfriend, trying to get her to see logic.
“And he kissed you. With tongue.”
Her heated face told Ivy everything, including a few things she didn’t want to know.
“So you didn’t consider biting it, then?”
Harley’s mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again. Then shut. She sighed. “I didn’t think about that.”
Her hands pulsed against the clay mug, before she stopped herself. She had broken far too many mugs in this situation. She held the mug out, and a vine reached her from another room to loop around the handle, where the vine promptly delivered it to the sink. “No, you didn’t. I wonder why.”
Harley shrugged helplessly, her eyes lowering and looking away.
‘Down and to the right,’ Pamela thought to herself, recalling what Harleen had said to her a month ago, about something new she learned in school. ‘Hold on… up and to the right.’ She saw Harley’s eyes hadn’t lowered like her head had.
“You can picture it clearly, can’t you?”
Harleen focused back on her, biting her lip. “Huh?”
“Him. Kissing you. You enjoyed it. That’s why you didn’t bite him. For someone who threatened a guard to have Juliet bite off his privates just last week, I don’t think you should have any reservations about biting someone’s tongue, at least to the point where he takes his tongue out of your goddamn mouth!” She slammed her hands to the table for emphasis, but she didn’t stand up yet. It got the desired effect, anyways. Harley flinched and looked even guiltier. Usually, when it got to where she towered over the girl, the natural blonde would cry, and she never wanted to do that to her Harleen again.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“I was tied up,” she whispered meekly, glancing into her Red’s conflicted, piercing eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to run away if I did that. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have killed me? Or worse?”
She nodded. “I’d believe you, if you didn’t just think of it now. You weren’t thinking about it then. You just told me you didn’t even consider biting his tongue.”
Pamela began tapping the table, again. She needed more tea to calm her down. Before she could finish the thought, the vine set the mug down beside her fingers, the smoke rising from the mug with a single green leaf floating on the surface.
She held it gingerly in her hands and took a delicate sip.
“I got it! I mean, er…” Harleen fidgeted. “What I mean is, maybe it was the magic?”
Ivy rested the precipice of the mug at her black painted lips and raised an eyebrow. “Magic?” She had told her how he used it, but what did that have anything to do with how she responded to his advances?
“Um, well, his powers. Or something. He should have died when he kissed me. I’m wearing the lipstick you gave me. I applied it before I went out, so it’s plenty potent. His lips were smudged black for crap’s sake! He should have been dead long before he stuck his tongue down my throat!”
She tapped the mug aggressively, not wanting to hear that last bit of information. “So you’re blaming me for a messed up batch, so you just had to continue kissing him?”
“No!” Harley almost shouted, placatingly putting up her hands. “It works! I’m sure it does! But it had to have been his powers that stopped it from working! Maybe his powers affected me to respond that way to him!”
Pamela placed the tea on the table and crossed her arms under her generous breasts, hefting them up a bit. She noted that Harley was so nervous she didn’t so much as glance down. In this case, it was hurting her not to look – to look at her as she always did. “Are they affecting you now?”
She shook her head swiftly, her eyes steadfastly on the redhead’s.
Ivy leaned back. “Remember when you came home from school last month? When you told me about eye movements?”
Harley blinked a couple of times. “Uh, yeah…” A sign of recognition ran across her face, before it morphed quickly.
And that, above everything, was the final proof for Pamela Isley.
“When I asked you why you couldn’t bite his tongue, you looked up and to the right. Tell me what that means, Harleen.”
She gulped nervously, her lip quivering. At this point, Ivy knew that this was the point to stop. She pressed on. “What was in your mind when you bit your lip, when you were quivering in your seat like a little slut, Harley?”
She winced at her own wording. True, Harley was her slut, and it was her favorite word to hear, but outside of sex, it was damn near a taboo word.
Harleen’s eyes began watering. “To visually recall s-something. A c-clear picture. Please, Red…”
She pushed herself away from the table. She glanced away from the green/redhead as she stood on slightly shaky legs. It was a testament to how hurt she was from Harley’s actions, as her movements lost its grace. “Get out, Harleen.”
Her black-sheened lips opened in a large ‘O’ as the first tear fell. “Red?” She asked, her whisper broken.
“Figure out what you want, Harls. We’re not doing this because we’re business partners and fuck buddies. You mean a lot to me. I thought you’d feel the same.”
“But, Red… Pammy, I do…”
She leaned against the table, her head still facing away from Harley’s. “I know. And that’s why it hurts what you did.” She moved away from the table towards her room. “Leave. Before my babies make you.”
The door slammed.
Harry Potter frowned at the scene that played out in front of him, silently leaning beside the sink. While it was technically rude for him to spy on people like this, they honestly should’ve thought of that before he got an Invisibility Cloak for Christmas. He almost grinned at the adventures he had gone through with the family heirloom.
The only thing that kept him from remembering the Quidditch Girls locker room was the girl in front of him and the tears that hit the table.
Harry sighed to himself – he was always uncomfortable being around crying girls, but he had gotten much more experience dealing with them in the past year than he really wanted to. Attempting to smash his head in with a sledgehammer/mallet/whatever aside, he felt that while she had escalated the situation, he had started this, so he resolved to find some way to help her.
And, as Hermione said, he had a bit of a saving-people-thing. It was how he got to… wherever he was, in the first place. After casting a few spells, he sheathed his wand and removed his cloak, pocketing it in the oversized compartment in his cargo pants.
It took a number of minutes for her to notice him, her head having been in her hands for a long time. And Harry could see the internal war going on in her head of whether he existed or not, refusing to look directly at him, for fear that it might be a hallucination. He may not have taken psychology class, but he read once in the muggle library about eye patterns. He found it ironic that she had to look up and to the right to see his face. When she had recalled them kissing earlier, she unknowingly stared into his eyes.
Now, he found himself under her attention again, her eyes wavering, as if she wasn’t sure what she was looking at for a good, long moment. Then she spoke.
“I have to kill you.”
Hermione also mentioned that his saving-people-thing would one day kill him. She was the smartest of their generation for a reason. He blew a short breath through his nose. “Can I get another kiss, then?”
Her brow furrowed, and now, she was looking at him directly. Then, smoothly, she scooped up Pamela’s discarded mug and slung it at him.
It shattered against his shield, its hot liquid steaming off the side of the small dome surrounding him, but before he could relax, like the grace of a professional acrobat, she pushed back her chair and in one smooth motion, flipped towards him.
Pamela slid down against the door, her head in her hands.
Ten minutes. That’s all she needed.
Harley had nowhere to go. She wasn’t old enough to find anywhere to live. And, above all, she was a widely wanted criminal that just pulled off a heist. She wasn’t going to let her leave the greenhouse. Her babies, the vines that surrounded them, weren’t going to let her. Sometimes her babies knew her better than herself.
But she was still pissed. She desperately needed to cool down and find it in her to forgive Harleen.
She could forgive Harleen for the small stuff easily. She didn’t allow herself to be captured, especially by someone with powers. She didn’t force herself on him. Harley had never been kissed by a boy, so it was probably a strange and new feeling for her to be touched by another.
She could forgive all of that. When taking a teenager for a lover and crime partner in training, it was obvious that she had to deal with teenage moments, even though she wasn’t that far removed from it, being nineteen years old herself.
No, it was two things. One, she lied about it, coming home with reapplied lipstick, and kissing her goodnight before she went to bed.
And she tasted him on the girl’s tongue.
If she had kissed a guard to poison him, she’d understand. She had done that a few times, and had given Harley her own tube in case she ever needed to.
But there was no poison on Harley’s tongue.
Her own tongue was very sensitive, hyperaware of other scents and tastes. It was as useful as a snake’s, but since she wasn’t a snake, it wasn’t very useful very often.
Now, however, she wished she didn’t have it.
She hated men. She just hated them. There was no deep, dark story of abuse that scarred her for life. No drunk father or uncle that gave her a permanent perception of men (No father at all, actually). Just the idea that every day, they kill more of her babies, set her off. There were no lumberjills around that warranted her hate. There were no female business tycoons desperately looking for expansion. And, of course, a man turned her into what she was today. But she was thankful for that. Even as she pushed him into a lethal pit of thorns of her creation, she blew him a kiss and thanked him.
Over time, that hatred led to a pure disgust. The few times she had resolved to seduce a guard to kiss him, to mainly show off to her partner-in-training how it’s done, she washed out her mouth. It was never really needed, but they tended to try to force their tongues before they realized their breaths were wearing thin, and she always felt a bit unsettled.
She was neutral to women. Some were just as disgusting as men when it came to the environment. If not, then they were doing next to nothing to stop it. Harley was the only one who managed to get to her, her personality and looks just intoxicating. If anything, Pamela was asexual. The irony didn’t escape her.
She blew a breath into the air, something that always relaxed her. Maybe it reminded her of when her mother smoked cigarettes and felt calm immediately afterwards, but it always helped.
Now… it was helping. Probably.
At least at this point, she could see that she was blowing this out of proportion, and she certainly couldn’t kick Harley out for this indiscretion.
She stood up, her bare feet sliding against the bare floor as she slid away from the door, and swiftly opened it.
“Fuck,” she breathed, her hands clasped against his. “You’re real?”
Harry grinned cheekily. “As real as your love for me.”
She snarled and pushed harder, but he wouldn’t budge. She lifted her knee and brought it up to his groin as hard as she could.
“Ah!” Her eyes bulged in pain, and she fell over, Harry letting go of her hands for her to grab her knee.
“I don’t know who Juliet is” he muttered, somewhat enjoying her writhing along the floor, “but I made precautions to make sure she doesn’t go for my bits.”
Harry just hmm’ed to himself. Much like allusions to his name, Sirius once told him that sometimes a joke was simply too easy to make. “So, what’s all this about killing me?”
She grunted something, and his wand slid back down his sleeve into his open palm. “Do I have to tie you up again?”
“Pammy!” she screamed, her tears coming back.
Harry shook his head. “Silencing ward. Shield charm. No one can hear you.” He blinked, listening to himself. “That sounds more menacing than I wanted it.”
“Get the fuck out of our house!” She screamed at him, and struggled to get back to her feet.
He shook his head, again. “You’re just going to hunt me down after this. I can’t risk that. I’m going to have to erase the memories of the both of you.” He was very aware that the Ministry Owls hadn’t sent him any letters yet, and he was using that to his full advantage. Whether they still had their own problems to deal with (Bellatrix and Co.) or, just maybe, where he was, there was only one magic user on earth right now, and he didn’t need that information spreading.
She grabbed onto the waist of his pants, and again showing her strength, she launched herself up and kissed him on the lips.
It didn’t take long for Harry to try to figure out what she was doing with the wild kiss that came out of nowhere, and while he probably should have admitted to her that he was immune to not only many poisons, but many diseases and sicknesses – perks of being the head of his family – he still returned the kiss. And he licked at her lips once again.
She pushed him away, exerting more effort than was necessary. In Harry’s opinion, she looked like she had forced herself to separate from him. “Why – why aren’t you dead? Why can’t you just die?!” She looked almost pleading at this point.
His fingers twitched, and he dropped the wand. Before she could do anything, he grabbed her by her waist and put his other hand behind her neck.
She stared breathless into his green eyes, intense and focused. Her own eyes glanced around his face, a little scared of what he had planned next. He leaned down and kissed her again, and sought immediate entrance into her mouth.
She brought her hands up to his chest, prepared to beat him away, before her fists tightened. After a second, however, her fingers fell limp against his chest and she opened her mouth a little, allowing his tongue entry once again.
Fuck it. If she was going to go down like this – to have her Pammy mad at her for something out of her control, at least go down in a way that made her feel like she deserved it.
She felt him lift her knee and rub the kneecap with his thumb, and she winced at the pain. She usually wore kneepads and elbow pads for combat, but she had taken them off shortly after she got home. She never even had the opportunity to use them until he came along. Perfect fucking timing.
The pain in her knee numbed, and soon, went away. She moaned in pleasure when it began to feel better, and then it began to feelgood.
Minutes after her first lover broke up with her, and she found her first real pleasure point outside her erogenous zones.
Again; timing. Maybe she was a slut. A whore. A technical virgin of a scarlet Harlot.
Harley the Harlot. Thank God that wasn’t the nickname she carried through junior high school. She was as chaste as they came until she was seduced by Pammy. If anything, she’d have been Virgin Quinzel… Virginzel…
Heh heh, she cracked herself up.
He had stopped kissing her long ago, the moment she became unresponsive. He had taken the time to observe her – he didn’t bother to look at her eye patterns, for he didn’t memorize the chart – and he realized that ‘Pammy’ was the luckiest woman in the world.
He knew that she had every intention of keeping Harley here. He saw it in her expression. She looked pissed. Not sad, or resolved. It was a ten to twenty minute rage period, one that he was very familiar with, and she just wanted time to cool off. Not to mention, the vines haven’t touched Harley yet. Though it was curious why they hadn’t attacked him since he followed her into the greenhouse, he’d rather not count his blessings. Still, the shield charm held strong, in case they decided to attack.
Still; Pammy was a lucky girl. Granted, Harley was very lucky as well – the woman oozed sensuality and was beautiful all around. Her single button up dress shirt covering her braless DD-cup bust and green leaf panties helped, as well, but what he found himself staring at more than he would ever care to admit to was the long flowing red hair that fell to the middle of her back. It was brighter than any Weasley’s hair, and sleeker than Fleur’s hair at her most beautiful. Her eyes were simply, a reflection of his own emerald irises. Not brighter, not duller. Not a different shade. Just… pure.
He doubted the purity of her character in comparison to her eyes, but it was nevertheless intoxicating. However, as he gazed into the sky blue eyes of Harley Quinn, he felt a pulse to his loins that almost shattered the shield he formed around it. Granted, he had been sporting a semi since he had first kissed Harley, and it had been fluctuating ever since, peaking at the moment he saw the green-skinned beauty for the first time.
But as he gazed at her cosmetically flushed cheeks, her mascara-covered eyes, and her smudged lips –
He frowned. She giggled. And then he asked if something was funny. She looked at him in surprise, as if just shocked at how close he was to her. He pulled his hand from behind her head and held her chin still. Her makeup began to disappear from her face, her true beauty utterly exposed to him. After a few quiet, tenseless moments, he kissed her again.
Much better, he decided.
Harley’s eyes furrowed in confusion as he kissed her again. It felt… weird. Different from the other times she had kissed him, even from the time she kissed Pammy, that got her in this situation to begin with.
When he stood back and his fingers slid along the lycra suit she wore, she giggled again, nervously.
Harry grinned, not unlike a villain would. He was keeping her attention, now.
Harley’s hands, which until this point had been out of play, lax at her sides, suddenly rose to grip his waist. She squeezed him at periodic moments when he touched the back of her knee, or when he trailed his fingers across her ribs, tantalizingly close to her rapidly maturing breasts.
Harry’s wandering fingers moved up her back, and found the hidden catch where her zipper was. He fumbled with it – not out of nervousness, but of indecision. There was probably a limit, and this was most definitely close to it.
His fingers nimbly unbuttoned the backs to the catch, before pulling down the zipper.
He had gone through too many death-defying adventures to run away from the obvious conclusion to his life. It, quite literally,couldn’t get better than this. When she got back to her senses, he was likely going to die by her hand. He needed to see how high the peak was before he fell.
She felt a tickle as her suit was unzipped. Just earlier today, she had shivered in excitement when Ivy zipped her up, but not before kissing the nape of her neck. It had become tradition for them, and the one that broke it was now the one who unzipped her.
She finished her assessment of herself. After more than a year of indecisions and avoiding what she truly was, she finally had a diagnosis.
Incurably. Indisputably. Totally. Insane.
Huh. That wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be.
She gasped as his hand slipped into the back of her lycra suit and gripped onto a smooth, well-formed cheek, before his other hand joined. He held firmly to the cheeks that she had put on display to him earlier, swayed in front of him as a joke, as a dare to him to come out again and try to catch her prepared and ready.
He released her smooth, panty-clad ass to slide along her smooth back and grasp the sides of her separated zipper clasps, and pulling it off her shoulders.
She stepped back and shrugged it off, much to his shock. Grinning a little bit, she pulled the suit down and stepped out of it.
Her green heel struck the floor as her red heel kicked the costume back, before stepping with the other. She put her hands at her side and smirked.
“Fine, then. You wanna play? Come ride the Harley.”
Having been a lesbian for her entire sexual life, the natural blonde felt a sort of pride that she finally got to say that line.
Though, in the next second, she lost her pride, and gained a new feeling when the boy’s clothes disappeared from his body into thin air; lust.
Harry Potter was a scrawny kid. Keyword – was. Having spent the previous summer at Hermione’s, he was given a crash-course in health safety by her parents when they noticed his overly slim form. For dentists, they had a lot of knowledge on physical health.
Now, Harry Potter was proud to say that he was in shape. And as Harley stared lustfully at his wiry form, his defined muscles and toned physique, he knew that it was all worth it.
However, he would have to refer to a pensieve – assuming he’d make it past tonight – to see Harley’s reaction, because he was too busy ogling her near-naked form.
She was absolutely perfect. Her handful-a-plenty breasts stood high on her chest, above her taut, flat stomach, and while the red sports bra stood in the way, he had no intention of letting that stop him from admiring the treasures he knew to be within.
The hair on her head added a certain kink to the whole thing – one side of her hair red, the other green, and tied up into two pigtails. The color scheme continued for the little clothing she had left, with her red bra and green panties, to her matching in all but color, red and green boots. She was obviously paying homage to her lover.
He couldn’t bring himself to feel sad that he had broken up a relationship right now. If he survived, he would talk to them both and try to reunite them.
But goddammit if he was going to get back to his saving-people-thing before he got to enjoy himself.
He smirked, and she stepped back, just a little bit, at his exuberance. Then, faster than she could follow, he approached her and crushed her lips to his, his hands firmly printed into the back of her asscheeks, squeezing and kneading them with abandon, his…
His pole planted firmly between her legs.
That was the last thing she had noticed; ironic, considering how far it stood out to her. His powers had him stripped down to his boxers, and the massive tool was pointed at her.
Now it was between her. Mere millimeters from her wanting, weeping center. They being the same height, his dick had found a place to rest, at the apex of her thighs, and had found a snug home, between her slightly separated legs.
By the cheeks of her ass, he pulled her forward, and she squeaked, feeling his large cock slide along her green cotton panties, rubbing firmly against her already distended clit through the visibly soaked material.
She shuddered as she was dragged along his tool, and now they were firmly pressed together, stomach to stomach, her breasts pushing him away slightly from her, but she didn’t let that bother her, craning her neck forward to kiss him again.
He let his hands roam her ass for a few more seconds, before skimming up towards the back of her bra. With a thought, the bra unsnapped, and with another, it disappeared.
Had her mind been capable of processing thought, she would have noted the loss of her favorite bra. At the moment, she was too busy tracing the lines on the scars on his back, forcing herself not to grind relentlessly on his now slickened member, her orgasm approaching. Had her mouth not been full with his tongue, she would be biting her lip in distress. No matter how beautiful he was, or how well-equipped, he was still a kid with a likely hair-trigger.
Well… she had assumed he was a kid. Now, she had no idea what age he was.
Or what his name was, for that matter.
She pushed her head away a little, and they parted tongues. They were connected by a thin string of saliva, which quickly dissipated. Her eyes opened again, and they focused onto the bright green orbs looking curiously at her sky blues.
“Who are you,” she whispered quietly for the last time, needing to know the name of the Adonis, the demigod that was wrapped around her, taking her like Pam never did, and likely never will. She didn’t ask it as a question. She didn’t command it. Right now, all she wanted were words. Anything.
And she would give him everything she had.
His right hand rested on her hip, while the other wrapped around her waist. He dropped eye contact with her, and instead moved to the green side of her hair, to kiss her earlobe. She moaned.
“I’m Harry James Potter,” he whispered. His fingers roamed the front of her panties, before pressing at the junction where his penis was firmly lodged against her green cotton undergarments. She gasped out loud, spasming on his straining cock, her girlcum wetting his dick further. “Your best wetdream,” he continued, remembering the words she first spoke to him when she thought she had control over him, sliding his dick slowly out of the confines of her firmly pressed together legs, distributing her juices evenly along the length of his tool. He held her still, feeling her shudder along the way, feeling every pulsing vein throb against her. His middle finger slipped into her panties; the absolute lack of pubic hair was a turn-on he didn’t expect. He had never felt that before, and now, he was quite certain he never wanted to live without again.
“And while you may be thinking I’m doing all this,” he whispered, taking a second to nip at her ear, “Using my powers, as you put it, I’m not. I don’t even know how to do that. I’m just a random bloke with powers, and you can’t get enough of it. I’ve read about this. Domination turns you on, doesn’t it? I’ve met a few girls like you, but they haven’t embraced it quite like you have.” His head bowed lower to suck at the side of her neck, and she gasped, leaning her head to the side, her fingers tensing together, her black-painted nails scratching along his back.
For some reason, she liked to think that all those scars that crisscrossed his body were a result of his more excited lovers. Her nails weren’t particularly sharp, but she had been known to claw at the headboard, that they had specifically gotten because she kept clawing at the wall.
She gasped as her most private part was exposed to the air, and now, her no-longer mystery lover’s eyes. She glanced down, and gasped at the view; her shiny, sleek cunt dripped freely on his cock, his head now positioned towards her entrance, looking as intimidating as the biggest of Ivy’s vines, though she had never used them on her. She whimpered with want, and when Harry slid his cockhead against her lips, she moaned with need.
He still held the crotch of her panties between his fingers, having only pushed them aside instead of removing her underwear completely. He slid the oily wetness of the material between his fingers as he used his other hand to pull at the cheek of her bum. She was dripping wet for him, and his highly sensitive nose flared at the smell of sex – the smell of her lust for him. With a wet snap, the garment disappeared from her body.
His cockhead stretched the lips of her hungry, but far underused cunt, and they both groaned with passion. “Say it,” he grunted, looking into her shining eyes the moment she opened them in surprise. “Give Pammy a reason to hate you, Harleen! Prove her right! Show me why she thinks you’re a little slut!”
Her body perspired with want as she writhed on the tip of his dick, her lithe, strong body struggling to lower herself further, but Harry held firm to her ass with resolve. She stared back at him, her eyes watery, her tenacity broken. “Please,” she whispered, her lips quivering as much as her sex, her breath coming out in gasps, “please… please fuck me.”
Harry released her ass with one hand, and before she could force herself down, he quickly reached down and picked up her left leg, then held it in his arm as his hand took its rightful place on her ass.
She gasped in pleasure – his shaft now rubbed her open lips and peeking clit at once, his precum leaking from his head and sliding against the dried up cum at the nub. She kicked outwards with the foot she had in the air, her body jerking to the hypersensitivity of her sex.
Harry thrust, hard, and his mushroom head popped into Harley’s quim with an audible suction sound. He was almost distracted by the look of pure bliss and pain on the girl’s face, her mouth in a wide ‘O’ shape as she was penetrated for the first time by something larger than Poison Ivy’s long, slim fingers, as just the tip proved that her limits were going to be pushed harder than they ever had in length and width.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” She breathed a shallow breath, her chest heaving as her nipples rubbed against his bare chest. She couldn’t see between them, and to be honest, she didn’t want to. She wasn’t a masochist – her and Pammy were experimental, but she wasn’t a masochist – and she didn’t want to see how much she had left until he entered her.
Harry wiggled the head of his cock in her with a groan – Sweet Merlin, she was tight! His eyes unfocused for a second at the sensitive head being swallowed by her constricting velvet hole. He released her ass, with the hand that wasn’t holding her leg as well, and held his arm around her waist.
He braced his legs, and he began to push.
Harley let out a soundless scream as her near-virgin pussy was defiled and stretched. She felt every vein slip along her lubricated walls, his monstrous shaft spearing into her insides with purpose. Her eyes closed once again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His muscles were tense beneath her, his breathing almost light, as he sighed in happiness at her velvety heat pulsing around him. Her nipples grazed his, and he pushed even further, going in another two inches.
“Ah!” Harley gasped, her hair whipping back and forth as she shook her head wildly. She was almost happy that she didn’t get to see the penetration – it was almost like getting a shot at the hospital, though in much more pleasant circumstances, and unlike then, she wished this moment would never end.
As he slid further in, she began to think that it never would end. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as his shaft plunged into her seemingly limitless depths, forcefully making more space inside her.
He stopped for a moment, and she was glad for the slight reprieve. Her pussy pulsed randomly against her control, feeling out the foreign object inside her, as if welcoming it and making it comfortable, begging his cock to stay inside.
He began to pull out of her, and she whimpered in surprise. “Nononono,” she whined, and forced out a mix between a gasp and a scream as he quickly trust inside her again. She felt even fuller than before, and it felt so fucking good.
Harry rested his chin on her shoulder, much like she was doing to him, and his tongue swiped across her neck. She moaned sexily, and her pussy spasmed around his cock hungrily. He quickly pulled back and thrust again, tasting her neck again as he did so.
He was bitten by a lot of different creatures, and he had no idea which one to thank for the sensitive taste buds – probably the basilisk, but he wasn’t sure – but he was thankful for it as his tongue lapped at her smooth skin, her moans getting louder, exposing her neck further, and he pressed his lips harder into the tasty skin.
He thrust into her again. And again. And again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she yelled in succession, her body rocking jerkily with his cock skewering into her over and over again. His movements were still, at this point, relatively slow, but she knew that any faster would probably hurt her. Her lips were so firmly sealed around his cock, the fluids that kept secreting at a near dizzying pace could only reach the part of his shaft that was lodged inside of her, and she felt it squelch inside her with every thrust. She knew he heard it too, and she thought to herself smugly, that her pussy was just too good to leave, even for just a second.
She grunted with pain at the next upstroke – he pulled back deep and slid in deeper, and she could feel her inner lips scraping the juices off his shaft as it left her vulva. He pulled back again, and she tensed for the next one.
Harry slid back and pulled out of the natural blonde with an audible pop, and hearing a sigh of relief, he smirked. He had sensed her discomfort, and he was starting to feel it as well.
He groaned as her warm cunt juice dripped onto the head of his shaft, and he shuddered as it began leaking down to the dry base of his cock. When he felt that enough lubrication was applied, he entered her weeping pussy again, and they both groaned at her seemingly perpetual tightness. It was less difficult than when he first entered, but it was far from easy.
Harleen’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as his dick entered her halfway, not that she could see it. Her nipples slid gracefully across his sweat-slicked chest, and his lips made a pleasurable seal at the side of her neck, sucking and nipping at her ivory skin. Tears pricked at her eyes once more, not in pain, but pleasure – at the feeling of happiness, the overwhelming feeling of her bodysinging with desire.
Harry powerfully thrust into her again, determined to get as much of his cock into her as he could. Had his lips not been attached to her neck, he would have been breathing raggedly, his dick rocking her lightly, her heeled green boot the only part of her still firmly on the ground, her other leg rocking in the crook of his elbow.
His eyes opened, and he picked her up by her waist.
Harley opened her eyes in shock as she was rocked against him, her foot feeling for the floor under her. She grunted cutely on his cock as he continued to thrust into her, and he turned around. She found her back to the sink as he lifted the rest of her leg to mash against her right tit, and she groaned at how he stretched her in another way. As he had her do a standing split, her red boot pointed towards the ceiling, he thrust into her again, and she gasped at the truly full feeling that invaded her. “F-fuuuuck, Haaare, Rieee,” she moaned, her voice in sync with his slow, deep thrusting. She tested his name again on her tongue, whispering it a few more times with his thrusting, and her voice hitched with each upstroke. She kept whispering it, her mind clouding over with pleasure, her head tilting back.
He snuck his hand behind her head and pulled on the small rubber bands that held her hair up, preferring to see her hair down this time. Allowing himself a bit of overconfidence that there could be a next time, he decided that he would fuck her while she wore the pigtails and a jester’s outfit, and the makeup. This time, he wanted her.
He gripped the rubber bands tightly as he watched her hair cascade down her shoulders, a flowing wave of red mixing with a wave a green, crashing together as they shook in harmony with his cock, pistoning in and out of the lithe vixen in front of him. His hand stroked her straight hair down her back as his dick pulsed, watching her flawless face blush with desire, her leg in the air tensing, her hands whitening as she squeezed his shoulders, her teeth gnashing as she rocked through her first orgasm.
“Harry!” She screamed, her eyes opening wide, the veins in her neck pulsing out, her weeping, seeping pussy tightening around his fuckstick so deliciously, her stomach tightening oh so painfully, her body out of her control.
It was the most beautiful thing Harry had witnessed in a very long time, and he almost wanted to stop pounding her just to observe the beauty that was before him.
Instead, he thrust harder, and when she squeaked at the unexpected increase of pace, her orgasm still high, he leaned in and kissed her.
She moaned loudly in his mouth as she squirted against his cock, her juices leaking in rivulets to his plentiful sac, and he groaned into her mouth as he slipped into her a little more. His thrusts were losing control as he stuffed her with his cock again and again, desperate to get that last bit of his cock inside her.
She jumped at a pulse that bumped deep inside of her when he thrust the deepest he ever did; her orgasm spiked again. She cried out at the sensation, her cunt reflexively squeezing his cock as tight as it could, desperate to milk him.
He palmed her full breast that wasn’t blocked by her leg, and squeezed it in his hand; it was practically a sin that he hadn’t had the chance to play with them as much as he wanted to, but if anything, it was a testament to her beauty to pay attention to first, and there was so much he wanted to explore about her.
The green/redhead gave a mix between a grunt and a squeak each time he thrust into her and hit that button inside her. If she were to hazard a guess, or if she had any rational thought left, she would venture the thought that he had reached the end of her. She wasn’t an expert in anatomy, but she was relatively sure that he hit her cervix. As far as she knew, that was supposed to be painful.
But now, she had no thoughts on anything whatsoever, other than marveling at how he was fucking her inside out with his oversized dick, and repeatedly pressing a button that stopped her from coming down from her orgasm. Had her head not been tilted back, she would have been drooling at this point.
Though they were the same height, Harry towered over her as he shifted his legs forward and stroked his cock in and out of her sopping pussy, the squelches getting louder. He quickly wiped at his forehead and put his arm back around the beautiful girl, never breaking his stride. His other hand left the back of her head to move between her perfectly split legs and fist what was left of his dick, the membrane inside her frustrating him a little, but he knew that one day it would fit.
Harry chuckled a little at the thought – he had almost convinced himself that he would have this wonderful chance with her again. Having read her surface thoughts all night, he got very mixed feelings from the girl currently writhing under him. The raw fucking they were having almost erased Pamela from her mind at this point, but he knew the two were in love with each other.
Unless they were talking in the literal sense, he didn’t want to get in between them and their relationship.
But he was content with ruining their sex life forever, though; considering most of the vines had thorns, he doubted she would ever be penetrated by them, but he wanted to make sure she could never settle for fingers again.
Harley struggled to bring her head forward, her eyes struggling to focus on the man in front of her. She stared blankly at him for a moment, noting his smile, and hearing his chuckle earlier.
And she smiled.
“Fu-u-uck, Me-e,” she panted, groaning as he rolled her peach-colored nipple between his fingers. “Fuck me so gooood,” she gasped, her body convulsing again, her brain stuttering at his non-rhythmic thrusting.
“Harley,” he gasped, his eyes losing focus, before shaking his head. Harley giggled as the sweat from his fringe hit her cheek. Fuck, she was cute, even as he was fucking her into a near-comatose state.
It was probably too early into the relationship to form an opinion, but if she decided that she was going to actually call what they were currently having a relationship, or any type of reoccurring situation, Harry would have to say that he was in love.
It wasn’t just because of his abnormally monstrous cock spearing savagely into her insides, her steaming cunt desperately milking him for all he was worth, her bald cunny swallowing his meat being one of the most erotic sights he had ever seen.
And it wasn’t just because her near-grapefruit-sized breasts bounced with every stroke, her pink eraser nipples capping off quarter-sized areolas, her youthful figure suggesting that she had only just begun to develop.
And it certainly wasn’t because of the way her body stretched, her leg pointing perfectly upwards while her other trembled beneath him, momentum causing her to kick the doors to the cabinet with the back of her heel periodically as she sat on the edge of the counter.
And it most definitely wasn’t the fact that he had made it a mission, a goal, in his life to fit his entire dick into her quivering clam one day, and achieve, what was to him at that moment, the biggest accomplishment the boy-who-lived could ever dream of.
It was because he… well… he… just was.
It was too early in the relationship to make such a bold claim, but he had the rest of his life to figure that out. However long or short she chose it to be.
“Harry,” she whispered back at him breathlessly, her eyelids fluttering shut, her full lips in a cute little grimace, rosy cheeks burning with perspiration.
He was close.
He let out a single grunt like an animal, a primeval beast, as he kicked into gear and began fucking her in earnest, and she cried out in happiness, or delusion, or possibly even pain; he couldn’t tell at this point, he was too far gone. His balls, though still inches away from resting on her cheeks, still slapped heavily against her with each upstroke, a testament to the force of his strokes, and was also a testament to how far Harry had gone into bliss, for him to not wince as his testicles bounded against her ass. It didn’t deter him in the slightest as he jerked his cock with one hand, synchronous to his pace as he slid in and out of her.
As one, they both looked down at the sight, as if seeing it for the first time – and they really were, actually. For the first time, they glimpsed at the point where their bodies fused, her hairless lips stretched comically around his massive girth, her leg trapped between them. He pulled back and pushed in again, and she found it fascinating. Her mind struggled at this point to comprehend why Pammy could actually hate this. To be skewered by Harry’s godcock was a feeling that she had to share with her ex-girlfriend, if only to show her a little bit more joy, the grumpy girl.
Harley grinned stupidly as Harry picked up pace yet again, to see her cum slide all over his dick, the force of the friction causing some of her pussy juice to splatter onto her and his stomach, and her mind could only think of how enjoyable it could be licking it off of them.
“Gaaaaaaah!” She screamed again, her fatigue wearing her, but her voice firm as ever, when Harry pushed forward as hard as he could, and pressed against her button again. She could feel herself squirting cum all over his cock – and she just pictured how wonderfully sticky his fuckstick would be by the end, his tasty dickmeat dripping onto her little tongue covered in his and her essences – and she shuddered mightily as his dick stayed there, firmly pressed into her membrane.
Right then, you could tell Harry James Potter and Harleen Frances Quinzel that she was far too small for Harry’s cock. And Harry would argue – she was perfect for his cock. The way her cunt muscles squeezed and massaged at his dick, swallowing him in even though he had gone as far as he could without hurting her, while he split her legs wide open for more leverage, gave him inspiration that if it belonged to the goddess that moaned beneath him, it was absolutely perfect.
He tilted his head back and roared as he felt his cum rushing from his balls, and Harley had a moment of clarity. Faster than he could comprehend, she removed both hands from his shoulders and reached between them to hold the outside of the dick skewering her for the first time. Harry immediately let go, and Harley took less than a second to marvel at the sheer fucking girthof Potter’s Pole™, the pole that had her firmly planted and conquered, before her fingers stroked the underside of his cock and her hands jacked him with a crazed speed that only a thoroughly slickened cock could handle.
“Fuck, fucking cum,” she gasped, feeling his penis twitch inside of her, shaking her whole body in convulsions. His already hard dick seemed to get harder, and she could almost feel his cum race through his tube into her sweet, over-fucked cavern. Her nails grazed against his sac, and she could literally feel his large, gorgeous sac shrivel and contract, pumping her, painting her insides white.
Harry winced as his balls were drained, his body shuddering as his built-up cum finally released into her. It almost hurt to breathe as he stood, holding Harleen against him. Her hands slowed, and he tilted his head forward to look at her proper.
Just seeing her in the afterglow of what was likely the greatest orgasm of her life gave him pause; her neck and cheeks flushed with exertion, her sky blue eyes unfocused and teary, her dyed hair sticking to her shoulders and her chest, fanned out around her beautiful head, and his dick twitched once more, in defiance, but soon went still.
He was thankful. His heart was willing to go another round, but his flesh was almost aching at this point. He needed a massage.
“Ah,” he grimaced, feeling his dick twitch again at the stray thought. Harley’s hands, as though shocked, quickly released his cock and she rested her hands on the edge of the counter. She looked in concern at him. He smiled at her, and lifted his fingers to move her hair behind her ear, maneuvering around her leg as he did so.
He began to pull out, shuddering as he did, so he could give her room to put down her leg, but Harley would have none of it. She quickly grabbed his face with both hands and effortlessly leaned forward to kiss him.
The lovers kissed each other, not as two separate souls fighting for dominance, but one soul joining together, as their tongues mingled and danced with a playfulness that wasn’t there before. Her hands moved to join around his neck, and his hand gingerly pulled Harley’s leg down around by stretching it outwards, and her boots knocked together. She hissed as her breast was finally relieved of the pressure; she could barely feel the usually sensitive tit.
His hand cupped her youthful breast, and she hissed again. “Oh, sweet fuck… not again,” she moaned, her body involuntarily spasming around his softening dick. Apparently, her breast was still sensitive.
Harry chuckled as he tweaked her nipple, marveling at the paleness of her breast compared to the other one, willing to squeeze and fondle her until the blood rushed back to her tit. “I need to get in as much as I can, in case you kill me when I collapse.” He muttered it in a light tone, almost like a joke.
She grinned lazily, and her eyes peeked through her lashes in the sexiest way to Harry. “Hell no. I’m keeping you. You got a…” she sighed, “hell of a way with persuasion.”
Oh, yes, Harry was sure he was in love.
His body shivered in shock when a cold drop of liquid dropped down his leg. His penis had deflated fully now, completely drained for the first time in his sexual life, and they both hissed as he began to pull out.
Their mingled cum dripped onto the kitchen floor, Harley’s stuffed cunt oozing significantly more than the drops off Harry’s slickened dick. He pointed to the small puddle and it disappeared. He lifted his finger at Harley’s hairless cunny, but she quickly grabbed his wrist.
She shook her head, much to his surprise. She leaned forward, and kissed him again.
Harry moved his hand to around the small of her back, and tugged on her. She squealed as he lifted her up off the counter. Then he fell to the side, and she squealed louder, wincing at the crash.
Except she didn’t. She felt the front of her knees hit a deceptively cushioned softness, and she felt it before she could see the mattress behind Harry’s ear-to-ear grin.
She slapped him on the chest, her heart struggling to get back to normal. “Ass,” she muttered embarrassingly, and her belly did funny things when he chuckled deeply.
“Maybe later.” He grinned as her cheeks heated up. He marveled at the way her hair curtained around his head, her two colors perfectly separated, the strands giving a slight glow from the ceiling light above them, showcased her beauty in a way he hadn’t seen yet.
He leaned up to press his lips to hers once more, before he rolled to the side, taking her with him. Her straight hair fanned around her head, and he found it a little funny that it was the green side that covered her face, but the red that fanned out on the freshly conjured pillow, giving her a red, eerie glow.
“Tell me,” she whispered sleepily, “How you do that. The magic…”
“I’ll tell you everything,” he whispered, “tomorrow. I’ll answer your questions if you can help me with mine.”
Harley grinned lazily, moving to touch his forehead with her own. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” she suggested, her fingers slipping under his side of the long pillow.
Harry chuckled, his fingers strumming to an unknown beat against her perspired skin, tickling her ribs in an ever-so-pleasant way. “And anything else we can think of.”
She tittered cutely, and Harry smiled at the heart-warming, pulse-racing sight. “I’ll tell the jokes, here,” she whispered, her lips curved in a smile.
“Good,” he muttered, “cause I’m not much of a joker.”
She moved her hair to the side and kissed him once more, a tender, chaste kiss. “I can live with that.”
She fell asleep in his arms, her naked form cozied up against his, and Harry closed his eyes, knowing that life could not get any better for him. ‘Nox’, he breathed, and the lights went out.
About an hour later, his eyes blearily opened, and he let out an unexpected groan. He heard the slurping before he felt it, and his cock twitched inside the warm, smooth sheath around him. He laid still, his back now pressed to the bed, and his arm almost dead to him. His eyes wandered to his left, and Harley was still there beside him, her smile content, her front facing his side.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before the pieces fell together. He winced when her tongue lapped at the sensitive piss hole of his dick, while her hand firmly squeezed at his plentiful scrotum. He grunted as he came, and his head moved up to see a swirl of red, luscious hair swirl around his crotch.
He sat back on his elbows to listen to her audible gulps as she consumed his seed, her unbelievable tongue slinking up and down his massive cock, and his sensitive hearing picked up the distinct ‘shlick’ sounds of her fingering herself quickly. She moaned as the squelches became louder, and her fingers slid into her faster. She gurgled around his cock and he hissed, keeping note that her lips had reached halfway down his dick. His head pulsed in the tight confines of her throat, as he shot his seed directly down her gullet.
She sat back on her haunches and flipped her hair back, and their green eyes locked onto each other. Her fingers abruptly stopped their frantic pace inside her quim, and the squelching paused. Her green-tinted lips drooled, dripping onto her dark green nipple. He stared in fascination as her nipple crinkled and hardened from the fallen cool liquid.
Harry grinned at Pamela Isley’s stunned expression. “So I guess you’re not mad at her, then?”
The two stared each other down, and she seemed to be internally debating with herself for a moment, before she slid her fingers out of her juicy twat, raised her two fingers slowly, and inserted them into her mouth at an agonizing pace, her tongue swirling around the familiar sweet taste, and she smiled at him. “No. I guess not.”