![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: In the House of Horus
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Pairings: Bill Weasley/Harry Potter
Warnings: Fuck-or-die (actually more like fuck-or-be-mildly-inconvenienced)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Trapped in the warding chamber of an Egyptian tomb, Harry and Bill must make a sacrifice to the goddess Hathor in order to escape.
Author's Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_crossgenfest. I normally don't like this trope at all, but the prompt it's based on really caught my eye. And it made my beta giggle because Ancient Egyptian-themed porn has been pretty much a thing for us ever since we were undergrads together XD
The title refers to the goddess Hathor, who features quite prominently, and whose name translates to 'house/mansion of Horus'.
The whole point of Bill going into the chamber first was to avoid situations like this. It had – up until now – been a good strategy, but as always, the good strategy had lost out against Potter Luck.
The last of the torchlight narrowed to a single, piercingly bright beam, before the door to the chamber ground shut and left them in complete, and total darkness. Harry closed his eyes. It didn’t make a difference – green still swam across his eyes from having darkness fall so suddenly – but it did make him feel better about swearing. Loudly.
“Fuck it.”
Behind him, Bill snorted with laughter. “Is this what it’s like being Ron?” he asked, and in the darkness, Harry blushed in reply and resisted the temptation to beat his head off the – very firmly – closed door.
It had been a quiet year, after the war. The only things that had interrupted his eighth year at Hogwarts had been the seemingly endless trials and funerals. There had been no Dark Lord, no Death Eaters – except the ones being tried – and no intrigue. It had been quiet. Dull, even. And his celebratory trip to Egypt after his NEWTS had been surprisingly peaceful. Long, hot days pouring over ancient curses and cool nights spent by the campfire and pretending not to notice the way it highlighted every dip and curve of Bill’s muscular form.
Quiet. Peaceful. Dull. All things that were forbidden for one Harry Potter, apparently.
He opened his eyes again to see bluish light illuminating the walls. It picked out the painted eyes of the gods watching them, and Harry’s skin crawled even as he turned to Bill. “Oops?” he said, trying to make light of the fact that chaos seemed to be part of his very skin.
The light from Bill’s wand did a very good job of showing off the little smile that was lurking at the corner of his mouth. Even though he didn’t look up from the hieroglyphs, Harry knew he was more amused than angry – at least, for now. Egyptian tombs weren’t exactly known for their multiple entrances. Nor were the Egyptian authorities known for their leniency towards people who took blasting spells to their antiquities.
Chances of escape, to Harry’s eye, looked slim. But then, he couldn’t read hieroglyphs.
He lit his own wand and watched as Bill moved around the room. His lips moved ever so slightly as he read, and his T-Shirt – damp with sweat – clung to the muscles of his back. Harry licked his lips and looked away. Looked at the floor instead of the walls and the eyes of the gods, all of whom looked like they knew far too much. One of them, a woman with cow horns, looked like she was leering down at them. Harry shivered, and pretended to himself that it was the cold.
“Hathor,” Bill said eventually, returning to Harry’s side from one of the opposing walls.
Harry looked up from his shoes. “What?”
“Hathor,” Bill said. “Her.” And he pointed to the horned-goddess on the wall; the one with the decidedly wicked look to her kohl-rimmed eye. “She’s a sex and fertility goddess.”
“That’s…great, Bill, but how are we going to get out?”
A faint grimace flashed across Bill’s face, twisting his scars and making Harry’s stomach sink. “This chamber is, well, it’s the power source for the enchantments on the rest of the tomb. The ward room, if you like.”
Harry nodded, thinking back to Grimmauld Place. When he’d inherited, he’d not known anything about the old property except that he didn’t want to live there. Time and post-war experiences had taught him differently. There was nothing like being hounded by reporters to make you appreciate a set of good, strong wards, after all, and Orion Black had been incredibly paranoid. So Harry had moved in only to discover that those wonderful ward he so greatly appreciated needed a boost.
“We need to make a sacrifice, then?”
That certainly explained the altar in the middle of the room: a large, stone slab carved with miniature horned-goddesses at each corner, their arms outstretched. Looking closer, Harry realised that the mini-goddesses had tassled cow ears. He would have thought they were cute had the idea of sacrificing anything in this place not just made him want to crawl out of his skin.
“Blood?” he asked.
“Er,” Bill replied. “No? I mean, if I’ve read the hieroglyphs correctly – and I think I have; I’m pretty fluent – then no. No blood. No death either, and that’s good, right?”
Harry wasn’t so sure. He could handle death. He was pretty sure he was kind-of immune to it at this point. Bill being so nervous and flustered about whatever this was…was not so easy to deal with.
“Hathor’s a fertility goddess,” Bill said, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes.
Harry stared at him. He turned to look at the altar – large and, conveniently, bed-shaped – and then at Bill again. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.”
“You don’t - we don’t have to. If you don’t want to. I’m pretty sure that even the Egyptian Minister won’t let us – well, you – die down here. There’ll be a rescue party. In a few days. Um. Probably.”
Being trapped for days in a cold, creepy tomb with leering sex goddesses on the walls wasn’t much of an option, in Harry’s opinion. Especially not when the other option was having sex with Bill. Granted it would be done on an altar in front of the leering sex goddesses, but still. Bill. Sex. Him.
“Well,” he said. “I suppose we could wait. If you, er, wanted to.”
It was the gentlemanly thing to suggest. But even as he said it, Bill was looking at him like he was crazy – probably because he was already leaning in for the first kiss and reaching up to twine his arms around Bill’s neck.
Wait. Yeah, right. He’d been waiting and hoping for an opportunity like this ever since Bill had picked him up at the International Floo Port.
Bill’s lips were dry, and his hands were strong where they gripped Harry’s hips and pulled him flush against his body. He was kissing back eagerly, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from moaning into it. He tugged at Bill’s T-Shirt. All he could feel was the heat radiating from Bill’s body, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted skin.
“Fuck, Harry,” Bill whispered against his lips. Harry responded by guiding his T-Shirt up, over his abs and his chest, and raking his fingernails lightly over bare skin. He could see freckles in the wand light; dips and valleys between prominent muscles that he wanted to explore. He pressed his hand to the front of Bill’s trousers and squeezed the hard length he found there.
Bill’s breath hitched. Harry smiled.
He didn’t get a chance to linger. He wanted to - fuck, but he wanted to – but before he could even so much as begin dropping to his knees and starting on Bill’s belt, he’d been picked up and shoved back against the door. For a second, he feared rejection. But then Bill was hitching his legs up around his waist and grinding against him through their clothes.
Harry heard something tear. A cold draft over his nipples told him it was his shirt. He found it very hard to care when Bill started kissing and biting a path down his neck and sharp teeth scraped over his collar bone. The various fantasies and suggestions that had been flowing through his mind shuddered to a halt. This wasn’t going to last.
“Altar,” he said. “Now.”
Bill growled.
Harry had always wondered if Greyback’s attack had left a deeper legacy than just the scars on Bill’s face. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get to find out – least of all in a situation that involved him being carried across a warding chamber and pressed down onto an altar. The stone scraped uncomfortably under his back, but the clinking of his belt buckle and cool air on his skin as Bill stripped him of his jeans and boxer shorts was a perfect distraction.
Well, mostly stripped him. They caught on his boots and for a moment, they both struggled before Bill burst out laughing. It echoed. Harry let his legs fall flat, hanging over the edge, and slapped a hand over his face as he started to laugh as well.
It was stupid. This whole thing was stupid. He was stuck in a tomb, tangled up in his clothing, and he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
“Roll over,” Bill said between sniggers, and Harry’s brain short-circuited. Okay, now he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
The logistics were somewhat more complicated than the fantasy, but after a few more bursts of laughter and flailing attempts at movement, Harry ended up crouched low on his knees, propping himself up on his elbows. His legs were spread as wide as they could go, and with his arse upturned, he felt completely and utterly exposed. And Bill? Was utterly silent.
Harry shifted nervously and, despite the desperate throbbing of his cock, opened his mouth to call the whole thing off. Bill was too quiet, and –
A hand landed on his lower back, holding him steady. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Bill’s voice was low and sincere, and Harry felt himself begin to relax again. The hand moved lower, rubbing over his left cheek before grasping hard and pulling him open. He whimpered. He could feel breath on his skin – hot and wet – and his toes curled in his boots at the first swipe of Bill’s tongue over his hole.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck.” It was – it was indescribable. The feel of Bill’s tongue lapping at him with broad, loosening strokes; the feel of it pressing into him, opening him up. It was so good it left him breathless and dizzy and sobbing his pleasure into the still air while his cock dripped pre-cum onto the stone beneath him. Bill was moaning behind him; holding him steady and rubbing his trembling thighs.
“I want to fuck you,” Bill said. His voice was hoarse and muffled; his words punctuated by wet, open-mouthed kisses to Harry’s inner thighs. “Can I fuck you, Harry?”
“Please,” Harry whispered back. “Please, Bill.”
He felt Bill straighten up behind him, and he turned as much as he could to watch over his shoulder as Bill undid his belt and his trousers and shoved them down over his hips. Harry licked his lips. Bill’s cock was magnificent – long and hard and thick; jutting up proudly from a nest of neatly cropped curls. He briefly mourned his lost chance of sucking on it.
Later, he promised himself. They’d have other opportunities once they were out of here, and if they didn’t, the he’d make some opportunities.
He watched as Bill summoned his wand to his hand, and he shivered when the lubrication spell hit. He could feel the thick fluid mixing with Bill’s saliva as it slicked his insides, and he dropped his head onto his forearm with a groan. He was so loose that two of Bill’s fingers slid in easily, right down to the knuckle. The third finger was more of a strain at first. The fourth burned, and he sobbed even as he pushed his hips back to fuck himself on Bill’s fingers.
His cock throbbed and spurted, and he felt the air grow heavy with magic.
“Are you ready?” Bill asked.
Harry tried to speak, really he did, but what came out was a near-scream of pleasure. Bill’s words had coincided perfectly with his fingers rubbing over Harry’s prostate and the stimulation was too much. He arched his back, desperate for more, and clenched his muscles around Bill’s fingers. He knew that he was babbling, but something approaching a yes must have slipped out, because Bill pulled his fingers out. For a small eternity, Harry was left gaping and empty – clenching around air and whining - before Bill replaced his hand with his cock and pushed.
The first thrust felt like it took forever.
Bill waited for him to adjust; waited until Harry was wiggling and writhing around him, begging for friction. Then he set a vicious and brutal pace. There was no space between gasps to speak, and Harry’s vision began to swim – he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to scream. Bill’s hands were holding him steady, digging bruises into his hips, and Harry’s erection slapped against his stomach with every single thrust.
He could feel everything. He felt his knees and his arms rip open and begin to bleed as the rough stone of the altar cut into him; he could feel the magic in the air rising, and when Bill reached around to finally – finally! – curl his fingers around his cock and begin to stroke, he could have sworn that the ancient gods on the walls were dancing. And the cow goddess, she was laughing.
Or maybe he was just coming so hard he was actually hallucinating, because Bill seemed to be trying to milk every last drop out of him and onto the altar.
In the end, he barely felt Bill pull out. He knew when Bill took one of his hands away so that he could finish himself on the altar as well, because he would have fallen over if Bill hadn’t caught him. He felt the magic in the room sizzling over his skin and felt his eardrums pop as the wards settled into place. His whole body ached, but he felt – he felt good. Blissful. So blissed out, in fact, that he staggered when Bill hauled him up.
“Harry?”
“M’fine,” he mumbled, trying to remember how legs worked. “I’m – Bill?”
Bill hummed and kissed his neck. He was holding him close and cradling him in his arms, and Harry reached back to tangle his fingers in Bill’s hair and anchor him there. “We can do this again, right?”
He had another month left in Egypt. If Bill wanted, they could make that an entire month of fucking. Exhausted and completely spent, Harry’s dick still twitched at the thought.
“Oh, hell yes,” Bill murmured. “But in a bed next time?”
“Sure.” He was willing to forego ritual sex in favour of comfort, but honestly, having a divine audience hadn’t been so bad. At the very least, it had got him a chance with Bill – not to mention the orgasm – and that…that, he thought, was pretty lucky.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Genre: PWP
Pairings: Bill Weasley/Harry Potter
Warnings: Fuck-or-die (actually more like fuck-or-be-mildly-inconvenienced)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Trapped in the warding chamber of an Egyptian tomb, Harry and Bill must make a sacrifice to the goddess Hathor in order to escape.
Author's Notes: Written for
hp_crossgenfest. I normally don't like this trope at all, but the prompt it's based on really caught my eye. And it made my beta giggle because Ancient Egyptian-themed porn has been pretty much a thing for us ever since we were undergrads together XDThe title refers to the goddess Hathor, who features quite prominently, and whose name translates to 'house/mansion of Horus'.
The whole point of Bill going into the chamber first was to avoid situations like this. It had – up until now – been a good strategy, but as always, the good strategy had lost out against Potter Luck.
The last of the torchlight narrowed to a single, piercingly bright beam, before the door to the chamber ground shut and left them in complete, and total darkness. Harry closed his eyes. It didn’t make a difference – green still swam across his eyes from having darkness fall so suddenly – but it did make him feel better about swearing. Loudly.
“Fuck it.”
Behind him, Bill snorted with laughter. “Is this what it’s like being Ron?” he asked, and in the darkness, Harry blushed in reply and resisted the temptation to beat his head off the – very firmly – closed door.
It had been a quiet year, after the war. The only things that had interrupted his eighth year at Hogwarts had been the seemingly endless trials and funerals. There had been no Dark Lord, no Death Eaters – except the ones being tried – and no intrigue. It had been quiet. Dull, even. And his celebratory trip to Egypt after his NEWTS had been surprisingly peaceful. Long, hot days pouring over ancient curses and cool nights spent by the campfire and pretending not to notice the way it highlighted every dip and curve of Bill’s muscular form.
Quiet. Peaceful. Dull. All things that were forbidden for one Harry Potter, apparently.
He opened his eyes again to see bluish light illuminating the walls. It picked out the painted eyes of the gods watching them, and Harry’s skin crawled even as he turned to Bill. “Oops?” he said, trying to make light of the fact that chaos seemed to be part of his very skin.
The light from Bill’s wand did a very good job of showing off the little smile that was lurking at the corner of his mouth. Even though he didn’t look up from the hieroglyphs, Harry knew he was more amused than angry – at least, for now. Egyptian tombs weren’t exactly known for their multiple entrances. Nor were the Egyptian authorities known for their leniency towards people who took blasting spells to their antiquities.
Chances of escape, to Harry’s eye, looked slim. But then, he couldn’t read hieroglyphs.
He lit his own wand and watched as Bill moved around the room. His lips moved ever so slightly as he read, and his T-Shirt – damp with sweat – clung to the muscles of his back. Harry licked his lips and looked away. Looked at the floor instead of the walls and the eyes of the gods, all of whom looked like they knew far too much. One of them, a woman with cow horns, looked like she was leering down at them. Harry shivered, and pretended to himself that it was the cold.
“Hathor,” Bill said eventually, returning to Harry’s side from one of the opposing walls.
Harry looked up from his shoes. “What?”
“Hathor,” Bill said. “Her.” And he pointed to the horned-goddess on the wall; the one with the decidedly wicked look to her kohl-rimmed eye. “She’s a sex and fertility goddess.”
“That’s…great, Bill, but how are we going to get out?”
A faint grimace flashed across Bill’s face, twisting his scars and making Harry’s stomach sink. “This chamber is, well, it’s the power source for the enchantments on the rest of the tomb. The ward room, if you like.”
Harry nodded, thinking back to Grimmauld Place. When he’d inherited, he’d not known anything about the old property except that he didn’t want to live there. Time and post-war experiences had taught him differently. There was nothing like being hounded by reporters to make you appreciate a set of good, strong wards, after all, and Orion Black had been incredibly paranoid. So Harry had moved in only to discover that those wonderful ward he so greatly appreciated needed a boost.
“We need to make a sacrifice, then?”
That certainly explained the altar in the middle of the room: a large, stone slab carved with miniature horned-goddesses at each corner, their arms outstretched. Looking closer, Harry realised that the mini-goddesses had tassled cow ears. He would have thought they were cute had the idea of sacrificing anything in this place not just made him want to crawl out of his skin.
“Blood?” he asked.
“Er,” Bill replied. “No? I mean, if I’ve read the hieroglyphs correctly – and I think I have; I’m pretty fluent – then no. No blood. No death either, and that’s good, right?”
Harry wasn’t so sure. He could handle death. He was pretty sure he was kind-of immune to it at this point. Bill being so nervous and flustered about whatever this was…was not so easy to deal with.
“Hathor’s a fertility goddess,” Bill said, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes.
Harry stared at him. He turned to look at the altar – large and, conveniently, bed-shaped – and then at Bill again. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.”
“You don’t - we don’t have to. If you don’t want to. I’m pretty sure that even the Egyptian Minister won’t let us – well, you – die down here. There’ll be a rescue party. In a few days. Um. Probably.”
Being trapped for days in a cold, creepy tomb with leering sex goddesses on the walls wasn’t much of an option, in Harry’s opinion. Especially not when the other option was having sex with Bill. Granted it would be done on an altar in front of the leering sex goddesses, but still. Bill. Sex. Him.
“Well,” he said. “I suppose we could wait. If you, er, wanted to.”
It was the gentlemanly thing to suggest. But even as he said it, Bill was looking at him like he was crazy – probably because he was already leaning in for the first kiss and reaching up to twine his arms around Bill’s neck.
Wait. Yeah, right. He’d been waiting and hoping for an opportunity like this ever since Bill had picked him up at the International Floo Port.
Bill’s lips were dry, and his hands were strong where they gripped Harry’s hips and pulled him flush against his body. He was kissing back eagerly, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from moaning into it. He tugged at Bill’s T-Shirt. All he could feel was the heat radiating from Bill’s body, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted skin.
“Fuck, Harry,” Bill whispered against his lips. Harry responded by guiding his T-Shirt up, over his abs and his chest, and raking his fingernails lightly over bare skin. He could see freckles in the wand light; dips and valleys between prominent muscles that he wanted to explore. He pressed his hand to the front of Bill’s trousers and squeezed the hard length he found there.
Bill’s breath hitched. Harry smiled.
He didn’t get a chance to linger. He wanted to - fuck, but he wanted to – but before he could even so much as begin dropping to his knees and starting on Bill’s belt, he’d been picked up and shoved back against the door. For a second, he feared rejection. But then Bill was hitching his legs up around his waist and grinding against him through their clothes.
Harry heard something tear. A cold draft over his nipples told him it was his shirt. He found it very hard to care when Bill started kissing and biting a path down his neck and sharp teeth scraped over his collar bone. The various fantasies and suggestions that had been flowing through his mind shuddered to a halt. This wasn’t going to last.
“Altar,” he said. “Now.”
Bill growled.
Harry had always wondered if Greyback’s attack had left a deeper legacy than just the scars on Bill’s face. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get to find out – least of all in a situation that involved him being carried across a warding chamber and pressed down onto an altar. The stone scraped uncomfortably under his back, but the clinking of his belt buckle and cool air on his skin as Bill stripped him of his jeans and boxer shorts was a perfect distraction.
Well, mostly stripped him. They caught on his boots and for a moment, they both struggled before Bill burst out laughing. It echoed. Harry let his legs fall flat, hanging over the edge, and slapped a hand over his face as he started to laugh as well.
It was stupid. This whole thing was stupid. He was stuck in a tomb, tangled up in his clothing, and he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
“Roll over,” Bill said between sniggers, and Harry’s brain short-circuited. Okay, now he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.
The logistics were somewhat more complicated than the fantasy, but after a few more bursts of laughter and flailing attempts at movement, Harry ended up crouched low on his knees, propping himself up on his elbows. His legs were spread as wide as they could go, and with his arse upturned, he felt completely and utterly exposed. And Bill? Was utterly silent.
Harry shifted nervously and, despite the desperate throbbing of his cock, opened his mouth to call the whole thing off. Bill was too quiet, and –
A hand landed on his lower back, holding him steady. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Bill’s voice was low and sincere, and Harry felt himself begin to relax again. The hand moved lower, rubbing over his left cheek before grasping hard and pulling him open. He whimpered. He could feel breath on his skin – hot and wet – and his toes curled in his boots at the first swipe of Bill’s tongue over his hole.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck.” It was – it was indescribable. The feel of Bill’s tongue lapping at him with broad, loosening strokes; the feel of it pressing into him, opening him up. It was so good it left him breathless and dizzy and sobbing his pleasure into the still air while his cock dripped pre-cum onto the stone beneath him. Bill was moaning behind him; holding him steady and rubbing his trembling thighs.
“I want to fuck you,” Bill said. His voice was hoarse and muffled; his words punctuated by wet, open-mouthed kisses to Harry’s inner thighs. “Can I fuck you, Harry?”
“Please,” Harry whispered back. “Please, Bill.”
He felt Bill straighten up behind him, and he turned as much as he could to watch over his shoulder as Bill undid his belt and his trousers and shoved them down over his hips. Harry licked his lips. Bill’s cock was magnificent – long and hard and thick; jutting up proudly from a nest of neatly cropped curls. He briefly mourned his lost chance of sucking on it.
Later, he promised himself. They’d have other opportunities once they were out of here, and if they didn’t, the he’d make some opportunities.
He watched as Bill summoned his wand to his hand, and he shivered when the lubrication spell hit. He could feel the thick fluid mixing with Bill’s saliva as it slicked his insides, and he dropped his head onto his forearm with a groan. He was so loose that two of Bill’s fingers slid in easily, right down to the knuckle. The third finger was more of a strain at first. The fourth burned, and he sobbed even as he pushed his hips back to fuck himself on Bill’s fingers.
His cock throbbed and spurted, and he felt the air grow heavy with magic.
“Are you ready?” Bill asked.
Harry tried to speak, really he did, but what came out was a near-scream of pleasure. Bill’s words had coincided perfectly with his fingers rubbing over Harry’s prostate and the stimulation was too much. He arched his back, desperate for more, and clenched his muscles around Bill’s fingers. He knew that he was babbling, but something approaching a yes must have slipped out, because Bill pulled his fingers out. For a small eternity, Harry was left gaping and empty – clenching around air and whining - before Bill replaced his hand with his cock and pushed.
The first thrust felt like it took forever.
Bill waited for him to adjust; waited until Harry was wiggling and writhing around him, begging for friction. Then he set a vicious and brutal pace. There was no space between gasps to speak, and Harry’s vision began to swim – he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs to scream. Bill’s hands were holding him steady, digging bruises into his hips, and Harry’s erection slapped against his stomach with every single thrust.
He could feel everything. He felt his knees and his arms rip open and begin to bleed as the rough stone of the altar cut into him; he could feel the magic in the air rising, and when Bill reached around to finally – finally! – curl his fingers around his cock and begin to stroke, he could have sworn that the ancient gods on the walls were dancing. And the cow goddess, she was laughing.
Or maybe he was just coming so hard he was actually hallucinating, because Bill seemed to be trying to milk every last drop out of him and onto the altar.
In the end, he barely felt Bill pull out. He knew when Bill took one of his hands away so that he could finish himself on the altar as well, because he would have fallen over if Bill hadn’t caught him. He felt the magic in the room sizzling over his skin and felt his eardrums pop as the wards settled into place. His whole body ached, but he felt – he felt good. Blissful. So blissed out, in fact, that he staggered when Bill hauled him up.
“Harry?”
“M’fine,” he mumbled, trying to remember how legs worked. “I’m – Bill?”
Bill hummed and kissed his neck. He was holding him close and cradling him in his arms, and Harry reached back to tangle his fingers in Bill’s hair and anchor him there. “We can do this again, right?”
He had another month left in Egypt. If Bill wanted, they could make that an entire month of fucking. Exhausted and completely spent, Harry’s dick still twitched at the thought.
“Oh, hell yes,” Bill murmured. “But in a bed next time?”
“Sure.” He was willing to forego ritual sex in favour of comfort, but honestly, having a divine audience hadn’t been so bad. At the very least, it had got him a chance with Bill – not to mention the orgasm – and that…that, he thought, was pretty lucky.
