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Harry sighed, staring absently into his drink on the far end of the bar counter. Ron and Neville had already pulled and left, and now it was just him, watching lithe bodies of all shapes and sizes on the dance floor, at the bar, waiting in line at the bathrooms.
He'd been to Scales three times this week, and hadn't found anyone his type. For Knockturn's latest, most popular gay bar, it just didn't have what Harry was hoping it'd have.
Pushing the rest of his drink away from him, Harry got up to use the bathroom, too. He'd anticipated waiting in line, but it turned out the queue was for some other room down the hall, and the actual bathrooms were available.
He'd expected urinals opposite the sinks, but there were only stalls. Harry shrugged, mentally, stumbling to the one farthest from the door. It was the only one with a door ajar.
Latching it behind him, Harry braced himself against the wall to pee, feeling dizzy. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered with that last cocktail, he thought, blinking slowly.
He glanced up from the toilet bowl just in time to notice the small round hole cut into the wall.
Wait a minute.
Was it..?
As if in answer to his question, a shiny pink cockhead began to protrude from the hole. Harry watched, transfixed, as it continued to make its way into the stall. And continued.
Merlin, whoever this belonged to was hung.
Oh, he realized, that's what the line was for.
Damn it, though, he just wanted to use the toilet. Harry used his unoccupied hand to fish around in his pocket for his wand. For a moment, he was absurdly tempted to use a Stinging Hex -- but no, no, that would be cruel. And they would probably figure out he'd done it.
Then his fingers alighted on a different round shape in his pocket -- a marker. Now there was an idea.
Giggling, Harry flushed the toilet and cleaned his hands with a spell. He put one hand around the base of his mysterious glory-seeker, and quickly drew just a little something on the side of the shaft.
Now there was a dick on the dick.
Dickception, if you will.
The cock withdrew, for the moment. Probably to observe Harry's artistic masterpiece, or something. Harry used the opportunity to sit down on the toilet, not sure if he was feeling any other calls of nature but unwilling to risk it when the stalls were all occupied otherwise. Imagine if I had to come back and they were all full. Then he'd just have to go home… and Harry didn't want to go home yet.
Sitting, the glory hole was right at mouth level, he noticed. Harry leaned closer to see if the glory-seeker had left --
And nearly got an eyeful of the same erection as it returned. He turned his face just in time to feel it slap against his cheekbone.
Oh, and there was a piece of paper attached.
Don't leave me hanging, darling, it read, when Harry managed to take the paper off.
At first, Harry wasn't going to. But he kept staring at it, finding himself unmotivated to leave. And the longer he looked at it, at that slightly-curved, shapely, stiff member, well...
The more he was tempted.
Just a little taste, maybe, Harry thought. Just the tip of his tongue --
He licked over the slit on the end, tasting the salty fluid that welled up there at the contact. He could swear he heard a muffled groan from the other side of the wall.
Grinning, Harry pulled away again, a thin sticky line connecting his mouth and the wet slit in front of him. And from the other side of the wall -- a pained hiss.
“C'mon," the glory-seeker groaned. "Don't jussst tease --"
Harry's stomach did a flip. A good flip. That was Parseltongue he'd just heard. Either Scales had attracted visitors from outside Britain, or...
Or that was Tom Marvolo Riddle on the other side of the wall.
Suddenly Harry was a lot more sober, and a lot more aroused. Riddle, the only other Parselmouth in Britain? (Who everyone thought was the only Parselmouth in Britain?) The upper-year Harry had lusted after for years at Hogwarts and never really gotten over? That Tom Riddle, had been gay the entire time?
And that meant the cock in front of Harry was… Tom's cock.
Oh, Merlin. Harry felt heat pooling in his groin. He reached up to grab onto the other wizard's erection.
It wasn't as if Harry hadn't any experience sucking cock. He'd been known for it in Hogwarts, even. But for just a moment, he had no idea what he was doing.
Because this was a cock he'd wanted in his mouth for longer than he'd been putting them there. "Oh, Tom," he whispered under his breath, thumbing at the head.
Harry licked a stripe up the underside, savoring every drop of fluid that dripped from the head. He fit just the first inch into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.
"Don't ssstop," Tom hissed. He pulled back a little, then pushed forward, trying to get Harry to take him further.
He smiled around the mouthful and took it down to the root in one motion, hollowing his cheeks.
A surprised grunt from the other side. Harry applied his well-earned expertise to the situation, bobbing his head and swallowing down. The shaft twitched, swelling up a little as Harry brought it up to the full, aching sort of hardness he was currently feeling in his trousers.
"That'ss good," Tom breathed. The words brought heat to the surface of Harry's skin. Oh, yes, he wanted to see Tom's face while he did this.
With his free hand, he withdrew his wand from his pocket and pulled his mouth away just long enough to cast a spying spell he'd invented with his friends. "Arcanestra."
Slowly, like a pool of spreading water, the wall appeared to melt into glass, letting Harry see what was on the other side. He kept his hand on Tom's cock while he did, wanking it slowly.
It was a one-way window, thankfully, otherwise Tom would have been able to see Harry's eyes roaming over every inch of his favorite Slytherin's body, pressed up against the wall for stability. Harry hadn't been wrong as to his identity, of course. But he wasn't quite prepared for the way Tom had leaned his forehead against the wall, mouth open, chest heaving soft breaths. Wasn't prepared for how hot and bothered his crush looked, pale cheeks flushed pink, or the way those red eyes were so lust-blown as to be nearly black.
He had his mouth back on that cock immediately, and ground the heel of his palm against his crotch while he continued to pleasure the other man, unable to contain the moan that bubbled up from his chest.
Tom's little hisses were more frequent now, the closer he got to coming -- Harry savored every expression on the man's face, every bite of his lip, every clench of his hands against the wall. "Ah, ah, that's," that beautiful face showed just a little strain, brow furrowing, "Going to --"
Harry pulled away, gripping tightly around the base of Tom's cock, and shivered at the shout his actions earned, in English this time -- "No, don't --"
Harry loved edging his partners -- or was 'victim' more appropriate in this case, given that Tom had no idea who he was? He kept his fingers in place, constricting, and teased again, starting his 'routine' from the beginning with the slow lick of his tongue. It earned him the most wonderful little sounds from his crush's mouth.
"Sstop," Tom pleaded, in the language he had to think no one could hear. "Let me...let me...ah --"
Before he could think better of it, Harry hissed back, "I'll sstop when I'm ready."
Tom froze, going stiff (in the more general sense). His cock twitched in Harry's hand. Wide-eyed, he looked down at the glory hole, disbelief etched into his face. "Oh Ssalazar."
Harry didn't say anything else, content to let the statement stew in Tom's thoughts while he took him down again. His favourite Slytherin had pressed himself flush to the wall, now, grinding in as deep as he could into the glory hole. Just like that, Harry thought, feeling a wet spot forming in his pants.
Merlin, he wanted to take down the wall between them and just pin Tom down so he could slip a finger in his arse, while he did this. The image of Tom that he'd wanked to for years wasn't anything like the Tom he was seeing now. Harry wouldn't have minded being facefucked, but a weak, needy Tom Riddle was...hnng.
"Darling," Tom choked out, "darling, pleasse."
That did it. Harry pulled his mouth away one more time, watching the cock in his hand twitch and tremble. "As you wisssh," he hissed back.
Then he was taking Tom deep, deep in his throat, and letting go, and his crush was coming with a shout, hips stuttering in desperate little thrusts. Harry swallowed down the flood of white, much as he was tempted to let it splatter him, face and neck and chest. He kept teasing Tom with his tongue, wringing him dry, until the man began to pull away, overstimulated.
"Wait for me at the bar," Tom hissed through the now-empty hole in the wall, catching his breath.
Harry licked his lips and grinned.
It was only while he was leaning over to deactivate the window-spell that he noticed he'd come untouched sometime in the past few minutes.
Oh, Harry thought, blushing furiously. That's never happened before.
Tom leaned heavily against the bar counter, refilling the glass of water he'd ordered with a spell rather than wait for the bartender to return. He squirmed in his seat; Salazar, he was still feeling aftershocks of that orgasm. If Rabastan finds out this happened, I'm never going to hear the end of it, he thought, wiping his hand over his face. His friend had been after him for ages to use one of the glory holes, insisting it would be the best part of his visit.
At least both the Lestranges had left already, long before Tom gave in and got in line.
Scales had a nice setup, Tom had to agree. Half of the holes were walled off for privacy. The other half weren't, the better to cater to men who liked being watched. And just as he'd gotten to the front of the line, one of the untended rooms had suddenly opened up. It had to be fate, he figured.
Even then, it had taken Tom a few minutes to work up the nerve to actually put his cock in the hole. Trusting a stranger with one of his most sensitive body parts.
And they'd drawn on it. With marker.
Tom pulled back and looked. His eyelid twitched.
But the game was...funny, in a way, wasn't it. He was being teased. No one teased Tom Riddle. He always got what he wanted, when it came to sex. (...Almost always.)
He conjured a slip of paper and took a pen from his pocket. Don't leave me hanging, darling, he wrote, sticking the note to his still-stiff member and thrusting it back through the hole.
He felt it impact skin, and smirked at the image of cockslapping whoever was on the other side.
The man on the other side was fumbling with his cock, taking the parchment off to read it. Tom waited. He wondered if he would get another message, written on the shaft. And then --
Tom groaned at the sudden hot, wet press of tongue right against his slit. He gripped at the wall, toes curling in his shoes. Oh, oh, that was --
And then he'd pulled away. Tom hissed, clawing at the wall. "C'mon. Don't jussst tease --"
In retrospect he should have figured out that the other person could understand him, when the response he got was so enthusiastic. They'd brought him right up to the edge in minutes, better than anything he'd ever felt, oh Salazar, and they'd -- stopped.
He was being edged, and it was the worst, most wonderful thing Tom had ever felt.
The other man had moaned around his cock, holding tight around the base so Tom couldn't come. Then he'd kept pleasuring him, that expert tongue, mouth, throat, constricting and teasing everywhere at once --
"Sstop," stop teasing, "Let me...let me...ah --" let me come, please --
They'd pulled away, again, and Tom could have cried, but then he heard a sibilant reply.
I'll stop when I'm ready, the man said.
Oh, Salazar. They understood what he was saying.
The other man hadn't spoken again. Curse Parseltongue for not sounding like the speaker's regular voice. Tom wanted to know who this was, wanted so badly to know, almost as much as he wanted to come --
"Darling, darling, please ."
As you wisssh.
Oh.
OH.
Tom's vision was going white. He thought he might have screamed. And the man on the other side was still sucking him , drinking him down. Tom had to pull away before it started to hurt.
Now he was waiting at the bar counter for whoever that was.
And...someone was approaching him.
Was that..?
No way.
Tom almost choked on his water. Was that really --?
Oh Salazar, it was. It really was. Harry Potter was approaching him. The Golden Boy. That no one seemed to recognize him was inconceivable -- Potter was famous.
Well.
Famous in some circles.
And he was looking at Tom.
Now he wished he weren't already waiting for his mysterious glory-hole partner. He would almost give up the unknown Parselmouth if it meant having that mouth. It wasn't like Tom had been fantasizing over Potter, or anything. Dreaming about Potter on his knees, lips stretched around him --
Tom closed his eyes, turning his gaze away before he could get too distracted. He was here for the Parselmouth. Maybe if he were lucky he might see Potter again someday. There wasn't time for both.
"Hello, handssome," came the hiss in his ear. Tom flinched, blinking his eyes open, and turned to see who it was that had just spoken to him --
"...Potter?"
"In the flesssh," Potter agreed, planting himself on the adjacent barstool. Tom's cheeks heated under the man's lascivious gaze.
Then his mind caught up to him.
Potter was the Parselmouth.
"Sweet Circe," Tom muttered under his breath in English. "You mean..."
"I can prove it to you," Potter murmured, leaning in closer. Tom opened his mouth to ask what he meant, and --
Potter kissed him, one hand coming around to cup the back of Tom's neck.
The tongue that slid against his own tasted like --
Potter pulled back. "It'sss yoursss."
Tom felt like the floor had just dropped out from under him. He was suddenly, painfully hard. "Fuck," he whispered.
Potter smirked. "I plan to, yes."
"My place?" Tom suggested, voice cracking as Potter laid a hand on his thigh.
"Let's."