hpquidditchcaptaintnt:
“Shirts don’t need to come off for sex,” Harry growled into Heather’s ear as he slid into him. “Much faster if we just leave them be, isn’t it?” He bottomed out and held the position for a few seconds before sliding partway back out again. He was slow to build up to fucking him, knowing that the burn from the minimal lube would be strong. “Your hole’s just eating me all up,” he said into his ear, once he’d gotten up to a decent pace.
“Sure they don’t need to, but with a body like yours, you shouldn’t be wearing a shirt at all, ever.” Heather said, humming and whining in response to the pressure of the other man pushing into him with out much lubrication to work with. It took a bit longer than usual; or it would have if Harry wasn’t set on being so delightfully forceful. Heather moaned outwardly when the other man finally bottomed out in him, his own hands curling into tight fists against the wall. “Oh, that’s it...fuck, you were made to use my little hole, Sir!” Heather arched his back, shaking his blouse off so that it hung loosely from his shoulders, exposing the upper part of his lean back to Harry. “Go on, stud. Rip it off me. I’m stowed away some extra shirts around here for this very situation. D-Don’t hold back.” Heather was begging now, and it was obvious in the way his tone hitched with utter, pathetic desperation.














