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FANDOM: Harry Potter
TITLE: A Little Release
SUMMARY: Desire hits him with a pain nearly as intense as a Crucio, a hunger he hasn't felt in years. It rises up in his belly and curls soft fingers around his throat, around his balls, an almost tender touch.
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood/Rolf Scamander (background), Relationship, Sex, Open Relationship, Friendship/Love.
ALTERNATES: AO3 | Porn Battle (DW)
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) Background mention of the death of a major character.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, etc.
NOTES: And now for a couple that I've never written having sex. This is...a slightly odd scenario for me - certainly it's new ground.
A Little Release
Harry finds Luna down by the river.
In the river, as a matter of fact, swimming. Only not swimming so much as...bathing.
And not so much bathing as standing naked in the water and peering down at something by the reeds on the other side of the bank, her bare bottom gleaming pale and pink in the weak spring sunlight.
Desire hits him with a pain nearly as intense as a Crucio, a hunger he hasn't felt in years. It rises up in his belly and curls soft fingers around his throat, around his balls, an almost tender touch.
Harry stares for a long moment, blindsided by the ferocity of this need - at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and for the wrong woman. He hasn't felt this way since...well, since Ginny. Three years, now, since the sickness, when desire had become desperation, both giving way to despair as she faded from life.
He'd never thought of Luna that way - not seriously. Not when she blinked astonished eyes at his ignorance, not when she looked at him with the compassion of someone who understood what it was to be different, not even when her face had brightened as she came in the door of her house and saw him sitting at the table with Rolf making a cup of tea for them both. "Harry! You're back!"
But now, he looks and doesn' just lust but yearns.
And he can't.
Inside him, something squirms, a worm gnawing at his insides - the memory of finding Rolf Scamander letting a woman out of his cottage with a kiss - a woman who most certainly wasn't Luna.
He waited until the other woman left before confronting Luna's husband, though. But he went with his wand out and his anger leashed.
"You're cheating on Luna."
"Actually, I'm not." To give Scamander his due, he was calm and civil in the face of an angry Harry Potter. There weren't many men who would face Harry down when his temper was up. "Luna knows about Maureen, Harry. She knows about all my lovers and I know about hers. We love each other, but we're not exclusive."
And Luna confirmed it when Harry asked, not trusting Scamander's word. "It's...variety, Harry. Different to what you understand. We're not tied to each other - we're here because we want to be."
It seemed so wrong to Harry - the idea of sharing Ginny with other men would have been unthinkable, and Ginny would have killed him if he'd ever had sex with anyone else.
Yet standing by the river, watching Luna peer through the reeds at something on the other side, Harry thinks of running his hand down the slim line of her back, smoothing his palms across the curve of her buttocks, parting her thighs over him, and sliding in and out of her, watching her come.
His mouth is dry, parched, and sweat begins to bead across his brow. He turns to go back the way he came, to leave Luna in unmolested peace. But he isn't quite quiet enough, and Luna glances up, startled but not alarmed. Upon seeing him, her expression instantly flashes into delight.
"Oh, Harry!" Naked, damp, and quite unconcerned at being seen so, her eyes warm. "Come and look at this."
"Oh, hey Luna... I was just... I'll come and see it later. I have to..."
"Harry," she says, and her voice holds a touch of disappointment. "You must come and see it now!"
He thinks about making excuses, then tells himself it was just Luna and he can do this. Hell look at whatever it was, admire it, then say he has somewhere else to be and go. It'll be easy. And she'll never have to know...
What? That he's rigid as a plank? That'll be bloody obvious the minute Luna stopps looking at whatever was in those reeds, and takes a good look at him.
She looks at him now, and her expression is faintly impatient. "All right, I'm coming," he says. Then winces as he toes off his shoes. Of all the things to say...
He wades through the shallows over to Luna, and tries not to notice the way the sun kisses her skin with gold, or the curve of her pink-tipped breasts as she takes his arm and points at the barely-submerged nest of small, writhing things that look like golf balls with legs - if eels had stubby little legs to propel them through the water.
"What are they?"
"Plimpies, Harry!" She squeezes his arm and smiles up at him. "A whole nest of them. And in the shallows, too! A pair must have been washed up stream in the recent floods..."
He looks at the plimpies, then at Luna. It's impossible not to look at her and not see her - the soft white of her skin, the delicate swell of her pink-tipped breasts, the slight curve of her belly, and the dark gold nest of curls between her thighs. Harry's tongue feels thick as he asks, "Do you...? You don't eat them like this, do you?"
Luna gives him an odd look. "Of course not! They're too young right now. They have to grow up - if they survive. It's too shallow here for them, but there was probably nowhere else for them to spawn..."
Harry listens to her explanations, but he's struggling not to stare. Her hair's still damp, and a crystal clear drop of water pauses at her collarbone before sliding down her chest - a shining teardrop that skims the inside of her breast. And he thinks about bending down and tracing that teardrop's path with his tongue...
"Harry?"
"I'm... Sorry, I'm just...distracted."
She tilts her head to one side and then looks him up and down. Harry's chest suddenly feels tight - tighter than his pants, in fact, which are distinctly tight. "So I see. Do you want me, Harry?"
It's the switch from thoughtless innocent to knowing honesty that disarms him. "Yes."
Luna studies him for a moment, then steps in close, her hand hovering over the bulge of his erection. "Do you mind?"
His mouth moves, but nothing comes out. He wants to say 'yes' and he wants to say 'no' and he's not sure he's capable of either. Luna seems to take silence as a 'yes', though, because her fingers stroke over the fabric with a touch so delicate, it's almost nothing more than a graze.
Harry's dick leaps - or feels like it does. And it's not enough to be touched through the fabric; he wants Luna, skin against his skin. He wants to hear her cry out for him, he wants to spill into her and feel like he can have this little piece of Luna - even if she's not exclusively his.
"Not here," he says, catching her wrist. "Not in the middle of the river where..." Anyone could come along and see them.
Luna turns her hand into his and begins moving through the water. "My clothes are over there."
'Over there' turns out to be a mossy glade where a neatly folded pile lies beneath a spreading oak, and a small picnic lunch and a book have been packed and lie waiting.
She pulls him in under the hanging branches of the oak, and her hands brush the sides of his face with infinite tenderness. "It will be okay, Harry."
He swallows at the closeness of her mouth, at the frank simplicity of her words. "I know."
Then he kisses her, mouth on mouth, her lips parting before his hunger, her head tilting back as he presses in on her.
Luna peels him out of his shirt as they kiss, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back. Harry undoes his pants and steps out of them, and they sink down to the mossy ground, barely pausing in the storm of kisses - lips, jaw, throat, ear, her nipples tracing his chest, her buttocks soft in his palms.
She's all long, slim lines, the curve of breast and bottom, the length of slim leg. Harry skims his hands down her breasts, her sides, her waist. He wants to see her shiver when he touches her, he wants to please her and not just fuck her.
Then she kisses him by the ear and palms the head of his dick. "You don't have to be kind, Harry," she murmurs. "It's okay just to want."
And she guides his fingers to rest between her thighs, to slide through tender flesh, already wet. Harry strokes her clit and she makes a little mewling noise, so he does it again. And again. Then he leans forward and licks her nipple - toys with the tip as Luna's hand skims his nape.
She's shaking when he lifts his head, quivering on his finger and under his tongue. Then she's on his mouth, her tongue stroking deeply into his, her forearms resting on his chest as his fingers begin to probe more deeply between her legs.
"No," Luna says suddenly, lifting her mouth from his, and Harry stops stroking her, confused and bewildered by her abrupt about-face. "Harry?"
"Yeah? Luna, I'm...I'm sorry..."
Sadness touches her face and her hand brushes his cheek. "Do you want me?"
"I... Yes, but..."
"Then take me."
Luna makes it simple - perhaps because she sees it as simple. Perhaps, for her, it is.
And for Harry, it can be simple - it is simple. Just lie Luna back on the moss, spread her legs wide, part the slick, swollen lips of her over his head, and thrust into hot madness.
It's the little details that make a difference. Things like the way she arches when he pushes into her. Her voice telling him to go, "Deeper. Please, Harry..." The four freckles on her collarbone, and the wrap of her legs around his hips.
Harry shoves deep into Luna's softness and revels in the soft moan of pleasure she gives. It spurs him to draw back and thrust again, and she arches and calls his name. And then something in him ignites like Fiendfyre - unexpected conflagration, uncontrollable, and consuming. He pants as he pumps himself into Luna's body - as he urges her on. She murmurs in his ear, half-begging, half-reassuring, and her fingers dig into his shoulders.
He has no control - it's been too long since he's done anything but get himself off. And Harry groans in despair as his body overrules his best intentions and he comes, Luna's mouth sweet as a Sugar Quill under his, the taste of her rich as Honeyduke's Finest Chocolate - but bitter with his failure.
He lies on top of her as his body gives in to exhaustion, too aware of his insufficiencies to enjoy the moment - but wanting to preserve the intimacy, if only for a little while longer,
Luna's fingers trace down his spine - a caress that makes a part of him sit up and beg for a chance to do it all over - to get it right this time.. "Harry?"
"I'm sorry. I'm... It's been a while..."
Her fingers stop. "Why are you apologising?"
He lifts his head from her throat. "Because...because you didn't..." He didn't feel her come - just the squeeze of her body as he plunged in and out of her time and again.
She looks at him a moment, almost uncomprehendingly, then smiles and her fingers brush his cheek in a tender caress. "Oh, Harry. I think that last part was mostly orgasm for me. You were very...intense."
"Really?"
"Yes." Her finger touches his lip, traces the shape of his mouth with a gleaming smile. "But it's sweet that you want to apologise. And I'm glad that I could help you find a little release."
"Luna..." Harry wants to say that this wasn't just release. That it wasn't just sex. He's had all kinds of offers since he came back several months ago. Sex is easy for Harry Potter to come by. This was...not sex. He's not sure what it is, and he's not sure he wants to examine it. Not when Luna has a husband - even one who's willing to share her with other men.
There's no way Harry can say all of that. Or even come close to it.
So he leans down and kisses her again - a request and an invitation as his body presses against hers.
And Luna, being Luna, knows exactly what he's asking, and her body pushes back against his in welcome.
fin
TITLE: A Little Release
SUMMARY: Desire hits him with a pain nearly as intense as a Crucio, a hunger he hasn't felt in years. It rises up in his belly and curls soft fingers around his throat, around his balls, an almost tender touch.
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood/Rolf Scamander (background), Relationship, Sex, Open Relationship, Friendship/Love.
ALTERNATES: AO3 | Porn Battle (DW)
WARNINGS: (highlight to see) Background mention of the death of a major character.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, making no money, etc.
NOTES: And now for a couple that I've never written having sex. This is...a slightly odd scenario for me - certainly it's new ground.
Harry finds Luna down by the river.
In the river, as a matter of fact, swimming. Only not swimming so much as...bathing.
And not so much bathing as standing naked in the water and peering down at something by the reeds on the other side of the bank, her bare bottom gleaming pale and pink in the weak spring sunlight.
Desire hits him with a pain nearly as intense as a Crucio, a hunger he hasn't felt in years. It rises up in his belly and curls soft fingers around his throat, around his balls, an almost tender touch.
Harry stares for a long moment, blindsided by the ferocity of this need - at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and for the wrong woman. He hasn't felt this way since...well, since Ginny. Three years, now, since the sickness, when desire had become desperation, both giving way to despair as she faded from life.
He'd never thought of Luna that way - not seriously. Not when she blinked astonished eyes at his ignorance, not when she looked at him with the compassion of someone who understood what it was to be different, not even when her face had brightened as she came in the door of her house and saw him sitting at the table with Rolf making a cup of tea for them both. "Harry! You're back!"
But now, he looks and doesn' just lust but yearns.
And he can't.
Inside him, something squirms, a worm gnawing at his insides - the memory of finding Rolf Scamander letting a woman out of his cottage with a kiss - a woman who most certainly wasn't Luna.
He waited until the other woman left before confronting Luna's husband, though. But he went with his wand out and his anger leashed.
"You're cheating on Luna."
"Actually, I'm not." To give Scamander his due, he was calm and civil in the face of an angry Harry Potter. There weren't many men who would face Harry down when his temper was up. "Luna knows about Maureen, Harry. She knows about all my lovers and I know about hers. We love each other, but we're not exclusive."
And Luna confirmed it when Harry asked, not trusting Scamander's word. "It's...variety, Harry. Different to what you understand. We're not tied to each other - we're here because we want to be."
It seemed so wrong to Harry - the idea of sharing Ginny with other men would have been unthinkable, and Ginny would have killed him if he'd ever had sex with anyone else.
Yet standing by the river, watching Luna peer through the reeds at something on the other side, Harry thinks of running his hand down the slim line of her back, smoothing his palms across the curve of her buttocks, parting her thighs over him, and sliding in and out of her, watching her come.
His mouth is dry, parched, and sweat begins to bead across his brow. He turns to go back the way he came, to leave Luna in unmolested peace. But he isn't quite quiet enough, and Luna glances up, startled but not alarmed. Upon seeing him, her expression instantly flashes into delight.
"Oh, Harry!" Naked, damp, and quite unconcerned at being seen so, her eyes warm. "Come and look at this."
"Oh, hey Luna... I was just... I'll come and see it later. I have to..."
"Harry," she says, and her voice holds a touch of disappointment. "You must come and see it now!"
He thinks about making excuses, then tells himself it was just Luna and he can do this. Hell look at whatever it was, admire it, then say he has somewhere else to be and go. It'll be easy. And she'll never have to know...
What? That he's rigid as a plank? That'll be bloody obvious the minute Luna stopps looking at whatever was in those reeds, and takes a good look at him.
She looks at him now, and her expression is faintly impatient. "All right, I'm coming," he says. Then winces as he toes off his shoes. Of all the things to say...
He wades through the shallows over to Luna, and tries not to notice the way the sun kisses her skin with gold, or the curve of her pink-tipped breasts as she takes his arm and points at the barely-submerged nest of small, writhing things that look like golf balls with legs - if eels had stubby little legs to propel them through the water.
"What are they?"
"Plimpies, Harry!" She squeezes his arm and smiles up at him. "A whole nest of them. And in the shallows, too! A pair must have been washed up stream in the recent floods..."
He looks at the plimpies, then at Luna. It's impossible not to look at her and not see her - the soft white of her skin, the delicate swell of her pink-tipped breasts, the slight curve of her belly, and the dark gold nest of curls between her thighs. Harry's tongue feels thick as he asks, "Do you...? You don't eat them like this, do you?"
Luna gives him an odd look. "Of course not! They're too young right now. They have to grow up - if they survive. It's too shallow here for them, but there was probably nowhere else for them to spawn..."
Harry listens to her explanations, but he's struggling not to stare. Her hair's still damp, and a crystal clear drop of water pauses at her collarbone before sliding down her chest - a shining teardrop that skims the inside of her breast. And he thinks about bending down and tracing that teardrop's path with his tongue...
"Harry?"
"I'm... Sorry, I'm just...distracted."
She tilts her head to one side and then looks him up and down. Harry's chest suddenly feels tight - tighter than his pants, in fact, which are distinctly tight. "So I see. Do you want me, Harry?"
It's the switch from thoughtless innocent to knowing honesty that disarms him. "Yes."
Luna studies him for a moment, then steps in close, her hand hovering over the bulge of his erection. "Do you mind?"
His mouth moves, but nothing comes out. He wants to say 'yes' and he wants to say 'no' and he's not sure he's capable of either. Luna seems to take silence as a 'yes', though, because her fingers stroke over the fabric with a touch so delicate, it's almost nothing more than a graze.
Harry's dick leaps - or feels like it does. And it's not enough to be touched through the fabric; he wants Luna, skin against his skin. He wants to hear her cry out for him, he wants to spill into her and feel like he can have this little piece of Luna - even if she's not exclusively his.
"Not here," he says, catching her wrist. "Not in the middle of the river where..." Anyone could come along and see them.
Luna turns her hand into his and begins moving through the water. "My clothes are over there."
'Over there' turns out to be a mossy glade where a neatly folded pile lies beneath a spreading oak, and a small picnic lunch and a book have been packed and lie waiting.
She pulls him in under the hanging branches of the oak, and her hands brush the sides of his face with infinite tenderness. "It will be okay, Harry."
He swallows at the closeness of her mouth, at the frank simplicity of her words. "I know."
Then he kisses her, mouth on mouth, her lips parting before his hunger, her head tilting back as he presses in on her.
Luna peels him out of his shirt as they kiss, her hands running over his shoulders and down his back. Harry undoes his pants and steps out of them, and they sink down to the mossy ground, barely pausing in the storm of kisses - lips, jaw, throat, ear, her nipples tracing his chest, her buttocks soft in his palms.
She's all long, slim lines, the curve of breast and bottom, the length of slim leg. Harry skims his hands down her breasts, her sides, her waist. He wants to see her shiver when he touches her, he wants to please her and not just fuck her.
Then she kisses him by the ear and palms the head of his dick. "You don't have to be kind, Harry," she murmurs. "It's okay just to want."
And she guides his fingers to rest between her thighs, to slide through tender flesh, already wet. Harry strokes her clit and she makes a little mewling noise, so he does it again. And again. Then he leans forward and licks her nipple - toys with the tip as Luna's hand skims his nape.
She's shaking when he lifts his head, quivering on his finger and under his tongue. Then she's on his mouth, her tongue stroking deeply into his, her forearms resting on his chest as his fingers begin to probe more deeply between her legs.
"No," Luna says suddenly, lifting her mouth from his, and Harry stops stroking her, confused and bewildered by her abrupt about-face. "Harry?"
"Yeah? Luna, I'm...I'm sorry..."
Sadness touches her face and her hand brushes his cheek. "Do you want me?"
"I... Yes, but..."
"Then take me."
Luna makes it simple - perhaps because she sees it as simple. Perhaps, for her, it is.
And for Harry, it can be simple - it is simple. Just lie Luna back on the moss, spread her legs wide, part the slick, swollen lips of her over his head, and thrust into hot madness.
It's the little details that make a difference. Things like the way she arches when he pushes into her. Her voice telling him to go, "Deeper. Please, Harry..." The four freckles on her collarbone, and the wrap of her legs around his hips.
Harry shoves deep into Luna's softness and revels in the soft moan of pleasure she gives. It spurs him to draw back and thrust again, and she arches and calls his name. And then something in him ignites like Fiendfyre - unexpected conflagration, uncontrollable, and consuming. He pants as he pumps himself into Luna's body - as he urges her on. She murmurs in his ear, half-begging, half-reassuring, and her fingers dig into his shoulders.
He has no control - it's been too long since he's done anything but get himself off. And Harry groans in despair as his body overrules his best intentions and he comes, Luna's mouth sweet as a Sugar Quill under his, the taste of her rich as Honeyduke's Finest Chocolate - but bitter with his failure.
He lies on top of her as his body gives in to exhaustion, too aware of his insufficiencies to enjoy the moment - but wanting to preserve the intimacy, if only for a little while longer,
Luna's fingers trace down his spine - a caress that makes a part of him sit up and beg for a chance to do it all over - to get it right this time.. "Harry?"
"I'm sorry. I'm... It's been a while..."
Her fingers stop. "Why are you apologising?"
He lifts his head from her throat. "Because...because you didn't..." He didn't feel her come - just the squeeze of her body as he plunged in and out of her time and again.
She looks at him a moment, almost uncomprehendingly, then smiles and her fingers brush his cheek in a tender caress. "Oh, Harry. I think that last part was mostly orgasm for me. You were very...intense."
"Really?"
"Yes." Her finger touches his lip, traces the shape of his mouth with a gleaming smile. "But it's sweet that you want to apologise. And I'm glad that I could help you find a little release."
"Luna..." Harry wants to say that this wasn't just release. That it wasn't just sex. He's had all kinds of offers since he came back several months ago. Sex is easy for Harry Potter to come by. This was...not sex. He's not sure what it is, and he's not sure he wants to examine it. Not when Luna has a husband - even one who's willing to share her with other men.
There's no way Harry can say all of that. Or even come close to it.
So he leans down and kisses her again - a request and an invitation as his body presses against hers.
And Luna, being Luna, knows exactly what he's asking, and her body pushes back against his in welcome.
fin
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