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Title:† Keeper of the Keys - Ch.1 Oh Fortuna!
Challenge: for the divine Ms. Scribbulus Inkís "I donít want to die a virgin."
Summary: 50 years ago Hagrid comes of age. The Transfiguration Professor helps.
Warnings: Smutalicious. Animal husbandry (as opposed to bestiality) Is 16 really the age of consent? Slash, oral and anal.
Disclaimer: The characters are her's. The prose is mine.
Comments: Wanted to go into greater detail and make it more beautiful and rich in Hagrid's worldview, but gee, I guess I must have a real life outside of LJ that needs attending. As I reread Rowling's books, I get bunnies for behind the scenes portions of Hagrid's life, thus the series/chapter format, though this is my first Hagrid story.
1942 Ė Hagrid is 13
Fortune smiled on some. Some were born lucky to loving parents, Albus Dumbledore, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry mused to himself. And Fortune kicked, spit, and shat on others. Not for the first time he wondered what the boyís father had been thinking when he chose to woo a giantess.
And then to get himself killed. And now this.
Dumbledore was on his way to the sentencing. The hearing had been two days ago.
"But I never!" the child protested again and again. The child, barely 13, who intimidated all the adults there with his height and girth. "I diní hurt nobody. Doní know nuttiní Ďbout a secret Chamber. Why is he sayiní all this aginí me?"
But he was a 5th year prefect. Tom Riddle was a model student and the perfect witness. "I own my responsibility in this horrible tragedy. I looked the other way all the times Rubeus brought dangerous creatures into Hogwarts. I trusted him to control them. So I said nothing to any teachers about the wolf cubs, the snakes, the giant spider. . . . But . . ."† and here his lower lip trembled so convincingly.† "Then . . . the girl . . . I hoped it was just a mistake and wouldnít happen again. I know Rubeus never meant for anyone to get hurt. But when I saw that he still had that huge horrid spider . . . I had to speak out. Iím so sorry. I should have come to you sooner."
Dumbledore itched to get them both under Veritaserum. There was something not quite right about Mr. Riddle. And something compelling about Mr. Hagridís pleas. But the Board had rules. In face of the overwhelming evidence Ė Riddleís testimony Ėthere was insufficient cause to force the boys to take the potion. Yet Dumbledore suspected Mr. Hagrid would have cheerfully taken it, and not been forced at all.
"Ah Dumbledore, " Headmaster Dippet greeted him at the steps to the Ministry of Magic.
"Come about Hagridís sentencing, eh? Shame that. Still, itís fortunate itís all over now, um?"
"Fortunate for whom?" Dumbledore whispered to Dippetís back as he followed his Headmaster up the stairs.
Two days in a magical jail cell under the Ministry hadnít done Hagrid much good. Dumbledore noticed his flat affect, the way the childís skin hung from his face, the slack dull expression, the sense of utter despair and lack of hope. Still, the boy stood up straight. Stoic, thatís what he was, so stoic for a child of 13, barely on the cusp of manhood, yet greater in stature than any man here.
He made not a sound as his sentence was read, expulsion from Hogwarts; and his wand was broken, forever forbidden from practicing magic.
"Who speaks for this child?" the Orator of Sentencing called out to the small assembly.
"I do," Dumbledore nodded. This was no surprise to all but one.
Sudden lamplights of hope turned on him. Dumbledore tried to smile at the twin beetle black eyes boring into his own. They seemed to burn a tunnel straight into his very soul.
"Albus Dumbledore, do you solemnly swear to ward this minor, to shelter and provide for him, to protect him from harm, and to guide his path to adulthood?"
"I do so solemnly swear."
3 Years Later Ė Hagrid is 16
A gurgling yowl rent the spring sunshine. "Dammit, thatís Clarabelle!" Kettleburn, the groundskeeper swore.
Hagrid looked up from the moke pen he was mucking across the yard from the Groundskeeperís hut. Blimey but them moneybag lizards dump a mess oí shite. Kettleburn no longer bent to tend his personal herbs round the side of the hut, but headed toward the barn near the school owlery.
"Címon then, Rubeus!"
Hagrid leaned his shovel on the outside of the fence and easily stepped over it. He quickly caught up to Groundskeeper Kettleburn. A frown fixed his face. Heíd wanted to finish the moke pen before his weekly appointment with Professor Dumbledore. The pair passed the mooncalf pen, crossed a green sward that separated it from the graphorn barn, and stopped at the tool rack near the barn door.
"Iíd hoped to catch a bull before she went into season," Kettleburn grumbled, grasping a large strange-looking tool. It had a wood pole handle but the working end was a rubbery three feet long cylinder, about a foot across and with a domed end.
Hagrid took hold of the door and opened it at Kettleburnís nod. Theyíd practiced the maneuver many times. Hagrid slipped in behind and fastened the door. Graphorns were dangerous. Ridden by trolls, supposedly, but then, most trolls had lots of graphorn scars, diní they?
Clarabelle was in a state, yowling to rattle the barnís shake roof and wood walls. Dust from the cross beams sprinkled down, making the air sparkle as though magic were afoot. She was a fine beast, no mistake, two tons of grayish purple flesh rubbed its back end across the stall, fretting on her four-thumbed feet. Luckily her two horns faced away.
"Oh thisíll be easy this way," Kettleburn murmured. "Iíd let you try, only you never seen it done before. So here goes. See how sheís all swollen and bright pink?"
Hagrid leaned forward and noted the animalís condition, "Cor, whatís wrong with her?"
"Ainít nothing wrong with her this here Mr. Bull wonít cure." Kettleburn snickered and with that, he gently guided the huge rubber dildo into the graphornís swollen slit.
Clarabelle instantly stilled and arched her back, blowing heavily.
"That's it girl. Nice and easy," Kettleburn crooned. "Set up a good rhythm." His arms followed suit, swinging the fake bull in and out. Then his rhythm increased until he was slapping it into her and working up a sheen of sweat. In just a few moments Clarabelle let out a bellow to make her previous yowls appear as gentle purrs.
"Whew! Thatís got her." Kettleburn wiped the sweat from his brow. The Ďbullí squelched as he removed it from the graphorn. He turned to meet Hagridís stunned expression. "Now sheís set till next Spring, Rubeus! Course, if you wanna give her a go, just to make sure sheís done and satisfied, I wonít say no. Big as you are, you donít need this." He waggled the Ďbullí.
Hagrid turned away in shocked embarrassment. Working with animals all day every day, it took a lot to shock him.
"Likely the only way youíll get shagged anyway, ha ha ha." Kettleburn brushed past Hagrid on his way to the pump to wash off his tool.
Hagrid froze in horror as the reality of the jibe sank home. He stumbled away in shock.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered the huge young man who entered his office precisely at 3 oíclock. Instantly he realized the youth was troubled.
"Thank you, sir," Hagrid answered, taking the whole bag as he normally did. He sat in the oversized reinforced chair conjured just before his arrival, and popped a handful of the sweets into his mouth, then began staring at the floor.
Definitely, something off.
"How was your week?"
The silence lengthened. Then Hagrid seemed to become aware of it. "Uh . . . I done finished the herbal ya gimme. Very nice book, sir. Thank you, sir. Uh, thank you aginí sir." Normally he rattled on cheerfully, filling the hour with his accomplishments of the week. He knew the Professor liked to hear of him learning things despite not attending any classes. But today . . . he trailed off.
"Whatís wrong, Rubeus?" Dumbledore asked softly.
"Itís just . . ." he began, then clamped his lips shut. "Nothing sir. Nothing to be done about it."
Hmmmmm . . . the adorable boy was being brave about something painful. Hagrid was a delicate balance. Dumbledore needed to let him fight his own battles as he grew into manhood, like any boy, and yet, because of his size, he could never be allowed to physically fight; and due to his good nature, he would never defend himself verbally. Merlin knew, words could flay the skin off one.
"Tell me," Dumbledore insisted quietly.
Beetle black eyes underneath knitted bushy black brows met his for an instant. Whatever he found there opened the floodgates to his worry. "Itís jusí everíone thinks Iím a freak on accounía Iím s' big, and they all joke about what a randy stallion Iíd be, but no one wants to come close, to find out, and theyís all students, and Iím not. I just muck out the pens and dig the feed beds and fix the broken things. Iím jusí a worker, and I canna make magic. And giants er too wild and wouldnít want a halfbreed like me either, and† Kettleburn said I might as well do it with the graphorn, and I stole pink Ďlike youí roses from the greenhouse and give Ďem to Sarah Clearwater and she said "Donít you dare think any normal girlís gonna shag you, Rubeus Hagrid!" Thatís what she said, just like that. "Youíll have to find one oí yer own kind, or yeríll die a virgin. You leave them school girls alone!" And all I did was give her flowers andIdonwannadieavirigin!" His lips clamped shut, he blew heavily through his nose, chest heaving like a great stallion about to founder.
Oh dear, Dumbledore studied his steepled fingers. Quite a bit different from the Ďwhere do little witches and wizards come from?í talk we had. "I expect you have some time before that becomes an issue," he ventured mildly.
Hagrid huffed. "Aí course, Iím not gonna drop dead tomorrer. Thatís not what I meant. Itís the virgin part thatís a worryiní me, Professor." He tossed another handful of lemon drops into his mouth and sucked on them noisily before crunching them between his powerful jaws. "And itís not like I even care if itís a girl."† Realizing heíd spoken out loud, he sputtered, "I mean, I wonít touch no graphorn! Itís just that . . . Iíve thought . . . that a blokeíd be all right. I donít care. I just want someone." His voice reverberated with pent up teenage angst. His whole life lay in front of him and he wanted to live it all this moment, right now.
Dumbledore sighed. What to do? What to say? Too bad . . . but no, he couldnít even think that.
You are a size queen, you know. And he is sizable, lickable, shaggable.
Heís my ward.
Perfectly traditional for a guardian to introduce his ward to these sorts of things.
I did not just think that.
Heís so big and luscious, and with muscles and Great Scott! Does he have that gorgeous hair everywhere?
You, Albus Dumbledore, are a dirty old man!
Tell us something we donít know.
We are not having this conversation.
Heís got to be hung like a hors--
He realized heíd been quiet too long as his eyes found Hagridís earnest young face. "Yes Rubeus, I was just thinking how to advise you. You see, most parents tell their children to wait until they have found their true love and until they have gotten married, so that they can both be totally inexperienced and ignorant of what feels good to and what hurts their partner. And so that they can immediately get pregnant and saddle themselves with children and expenses they are similarly unprepared for."
Hagridís eyes widened.
"I think you will find true love, Hagrid. And I think you will lose it, just like anyone else. And you will live to love again. Just like anyone else. If your virginity is truly bothering you and you are determined to lose it as soon as possible, there is a place in Hogsmead, that I could Ė"
"Done tried there, Professor."
Dumbledore felt his eyebrows climb.
"They said, I was too big. They didnít ask my age, on account of my size, see. But still, none of the girls would do me."
"Their loss!" Dumbledore exclaimed before he could stop himself.
"Professor, sir?" Hagridís face held a perfect expression of perplexity.
"I am surprised that they failed to appreciate your merits, my dear boy. I feel secure in saying that there are many who would fall easily to your considerable charms were they to take notice of them. But, here you are hidden away at Hogwarts. Perhaps I made a mistake keeping you here."
"Perhaps itís time you venture beyond these walls and see what the world has to offer. I feel cer Ė"
"Begging your pardon, Professor, sir. But I have everything I need right here. I donít want to go nowhere. I just want Ė"
Their eyes met.
Hagrid watched as the twinkle left the Professorís merry blue eyes. At first he felt the return of his despair, but then he noticed the blue had deepened into something else. Something that sent a thrill through him deep down inside, deeper than bone and breath.
"I want you to be the one," he whispered in answer to that depth.
Thatís done it. Now heíll disown me. I really shouldnít have said that. I should not have said that.
He watched in fear as the Professor took a deep breath and blew it out. "Well now, Rubeus. Thatís quite . . . Iím very flattered."
Blimey, aní Ďere it comes, Hagrid thought, anticipating rejection. The lemon drop bag twisted into shreds as he wrung his big hands.†
"But I want you to be absolutely sure, that this is what you want. No regrets. So I must insist that we wait a full week. If you feel the same way, then our scheduled meeting will take place in my bedroom."
Hagrid caught his breath and went very still, eyes widening in hope.
"If you change your mind, and decide to find someone more appropriate to your age, then our scheduled meeting will take place here as usual. No worries."
"No worries, Professor, sir," he breathed.
Hagrid hardly slept all week. He kept wondering what it was going to be like, to feel the Professorís touch. Would he use a tool like Kettleburn used on Clarabelle? Surely not, surely the Professor had something in mind. He had to trust him.
Unless he decided to back out. He could very easily, being Hagridís ward and all.† Hagrid shook his doubts away. If it didnít happen, he still had the Professor as his friend and mentor.
Finally it was Saturday and Hagrid rushed through all his chores so that he could take a long bath and attend to his grooming. If Kettleburn noticed, heíd say heíd fallen in muck and couldnít wait till nightfall. Hagrid took a knife to his finger and toenails, picked out his teeth, then broke his remaining two combs in his hair. Heíd given up trying to shave last year when his 5 oíclock shadow became an elevenses shadow! They never made underwear in his size so he pulled on his best shirt and trousers, slipped on his softest shoes and jacket and headed for the Professorís office.
"Chocolate swirl?" the Professor greeted Hagrid. He took only one instead of the whole box before settling into his accustomed seat.
"How was your week?"
"Fine sir. Um, I biní thinkiní if you doní, you know, what we talked about last week . . ." he trailed off helplessly. He wanted to offer the Professor a way out, but he so desperately wanted† . . . wanted to feel what it was like, to touch someone else, skin to skin, body to body.
†"Un, yes Rubeus, about last week. My offer still stands. If you feel the least bit uncomfortable, we will forget about it and go on as before."
"No sir!" Hagrid couldnít help his panicked yelp. "That is, sir, I still wanna." He screwed up his face to look earnest and sincere. "So whatcha goní do, turn yerselí into a halfbreed giant, too? Heh heh. You beiní the Transfiguration Professor, aní all."
"Oh no, Rubeus," the Professor grinned in genuine delight. "I intend to fully appreciate your substantial charms just as I am. Just as you are."
Hagrid sucked his breath through his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"This way, Rubeus, " the Professor said leading him through ornate double doors and into his personal rooms. "You can sit here." He gestured to the bed, then turned and began removing his heavy black Professor robes and hat. He set them carefully on the wooden valet and turned to face Hagrid again. His eyes twinkled but they were a deep blue, like the waters of the lake were now, in Spring.
He stepped close to Hagrid and looked him in the eye. "We will do exactly as much as you want Hagrid." His voice was lower, softer somehow, and yet rougher at the same time. He reached out a hand to Hagridís face and gently caressed his cheek with the back of it. Hagridís eyes closed. "You must tell me if you feel the least bit uncomfortable. Is that all right?"
"Yes, Professor," Hagrid breathed, his eyes still closed, feeling the Professorís fingers draw softly along his brows, around his temples, over his cheeks, to meet at his chin.
"You may call me Albus, Rubeus, when we are alone together."
"Never Professor, sir, " Hagridís eyes snapped open.
"Very well, " the Professor chuckled. "This is all about what you want. And I think we shall start with a kiss." He stepped even closer, now between Hagridís thick, tree-trunk legs where they rested on the bedstead. Like this, they were of a height and their lips met easily.
Hagrid stopped breathing, becoming very still, eyes closed again, intently observing the sensation of the Professorís dry lips on his own. They were warm and . . . firm and soft at the same time. They moved. They kissed him. His arms went around the Professor of their own accord. It felt right. It felt natural. He moved his lips against . . . Albus.
The Professor pulled away. Hagrid breathed again and opened his eyes.
"That was nice," the Professor said quietly.
"Oh yes," Hagrid agreed.
Then the Professor placed his hands on either side of Hagridís head and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He rained kisses on Hagridís face, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose. Hagrid nearly wept for the beauty of it. So kind, so nice. It felt so very nice. Then the lips met his own again, more insistent. Kisses made their way all round his lips. Then Hagrid felt a tongue run over his lips and he groaned and the tongue found itís way inside his lips. It touched his tongue and he groaned again. His breath became ragged. He felt himself stiffen in his trousers. He decided to see how it felt to put his tongue into the Professorís mouth. Oh, it felt wonderful. He thought he heard strange little mews coming from the Professor, like the owls made in their sleep during the day. Swirling around and around, the taste, the feel. He never wanted it to stop.
The Professor pulled away and Hagrid gazed at him, overwhelmed. "And that is kissing," he attempted his lecturing tone. "Any questions?"
"Did I do all right?"
"Oh yes, Rubeus. Very well indeed. Full marks."
He beamed. "Whatís next then, Professor!"
The Professor took a deep breath as though to steady himself. "If you wish to proceed, the next step is to remove our shirts, and try the kissing one more time."
"All right," Hagrid replied enthusiastically. He pulled off his shirt and jacket in one go before Professor Dumbledore could turn away and begin to unbutton his own shirt. "Here. Lemme help ya." Hagrid leaned forward and took over the buttons. Soon he sat back and admired the Professorís firm pale chest covered in a fine mat of silver grey hair. He sucked in his breath as the Professor reached out a tentative hand and ran it through his own black bear rug. "Oh Professor," he sighed. "That feels good." The Professor reached out his other hand and ran both of them through the hair on Hagridís chest, stroking up and down, and then over his nipples, then thumbs swirled around them, making him woozy with, he didnít quite know what except he'd never felt anything like this before. Then the Professor kissed him again, but this time he felt teeth nibbling at his lips, sucking at the hairs of his moustache and beard, then the Professor was devouring his mouth, pushing him back. Their chests met, skin to skin, and Hagrid gasped at the feel of it, so warm, so right, so thrilling. The universe opened to him. His arms reached around, dragging the Professor up onto the bed with him, on top of him, and still the kiss went on and on, and the hands roaming over his chest moved around to his sides. His own arms held tight to the Professor's back.
The Professor pulled away again, gasping as he settled his length more comfortably. Hagrid felt something hard push at his stomach and realized what it was. The same thing of his that must be poking the Professor's thighs. He rotated his hips a little so that he settled right in between the Professor's thighs lying atop his own.
The Professor's eyes rolled back in his head, "Oh Rubeus," and he arched up and away from Hagrid, his hands flat on the bed on either side of Hagrid's shoulders, his legs parting over Hagrid's hips, his weight grinding into Hagrid's erection. "You beautiful, beautiful boy." They gazed at one another, recovering breath. "Next lesson?" the Professor asked in a husky whisper. Hagrid could only nod.
The Professor looked over at the bedside. He stopped himself from Accio-ing his wand. He'd almost forgot he wanted to do this completely without magic, since, of course, the boy was forbidden the use of it. He sighed deeply and shook his head to clear it, sliding off Hagrid who whimpered with charming disappointment. The Professor smiled indulgently at him. "Next, we remove our pants, and arrange ourselves comfortably on the bedstead, and ahem, carry on with the kissing."
They both still wore their shoes. There was a mad few seconds, then clothes slumped on the floor and Hagrid leaned back again, scooting so that his head was at the pile of satin covered pillows. He watched the Professor watching him. "Yer sure now Professor? I mean, I understand if . . .," he whispered, a spell of contentment washing over his raging desire. If he never had anything else in his life, at least he'd had the last few moments of passion. "I know I ain't much to look at."
"Oh Rubeus, how very wrong you are," the Professor's voiced husky with emotion. His eyes glowed as he regarded the mountain of maleness lying back on his own bed. "You are a treasure, a gorgeous man. I had no idea the glorious flesh you were hiding under those work clothes!" He placed a knee up on the bed and crawled over, then on top of Hagrid again. Hagrid clutched him tightly, but the Professor seemed to worm his way out of his grasp, hands and mouth everywhere at once, always moving. Legs brushed his. Teeth grazed his chest. A tongue licked his neck. Hagrid drew his palms along the Professor's back in a long slow languid massage. Then their groins met again, electric skin to sizzling skin, and Hagrid convulsively clamped the Professor's hips in his meaty fingers and pushed the man down against him and his hips jerked up toward him. The Professor's fingers clawed into Hagrid's pectorals, groaning. Teeth bit into Hagrid's chest.
Snapping back to reality, Hagrid let go and pulled his hands away. "Professor! I'm sorry! Did I hu-"
"Sh Rubeus. That was wonderful. Divine. Ah, the feel of you . . ." And from the glazed look in the Professor's eyes, he knew that it was true. The Professor enjoyed his touch just as much, maybe even more. The Professor rained kisses on his chest and Hagrid sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. The Professor kissed lower and lower across his steely hard chest, then his flat abdomen, where his erection rested, throbbing in time with his racing pulse. He felt the Professors' lips kiss softly, so gently around and around him, never quite touching him. Hagrid's breath grew even more ragged. The lips brushed across where his leg met his hip, down his thigh, across his inner thigh and on to the other leg. Hagrid groaned. He whimpered. He whined when the lips kissed his balls. The tongue stroked at his balls, the teeth grazed along the tightening skin.
Then finally, finally, the tongue licked along the whole length of him. Hagrid sighed in appreciation. This was it. This was what he wanted† so much. So much. Hagrid screamed when the Professor's mouth enclosed the head of his cock. Screamed and came. The Professor's fine lips never left him 'til he was done.
He looked down the length of his body and met the Professor's eyes. They were twinkling madly. Hagrid returned the Professor's satisfied grin. "Guess it's my turn to return the favor, eh?" Hagrid said rising to sit up, eager to put his lessons to practical use.
"Oh no, my dear boy," the Professor said with a wicked grin. "I'm not at all done with you yet."
"But I . . . it was too fast-I-"
"No, no, no, Rubeus. That's perfectly normal at your age, and something I counted on." Hagrid felt relieved by the Professor's confident tone. Soothed by the Professor's hands pushing his shoulders back down to the pillows. "Ready for your next lesson?"
"Oh yes, Professor, sir!" Hagrid couldn't believe his luck. There's more?
Once again, the Professor laid his length atop Hagrid and began kissing him. Used to it now, but still craving it like a starving lethifold, Hagrid sealed his mouth with the Professor's, absorbed in the sensation of that warm soft velvety smooth tongue. Oh he couldn't get enough of it! The Professor grinned against his mouth. He'd taken notice of Hagrid's quickly renewing erection.
"My dear boy, you are a treasure," the Professor smiled as he sat up again, straddling Hagrid's stomach. He reached over and grasped Hagrid's right hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss. "Your hands are very clean. That's very good," he whispered. His eyes seared into Hagrid's. "Would you like to put them inside me?"
Hagrid didn't know what to say. Of course, he wanted whatever the Professor wanted. "But am I not too big? I don't want -"
But the Professor shook his head, no. "Hagrid, you're only twice as big as a normal man. There is even a very small percentage of normal men out there whose equipment compare with yours. Yes," he insisted to Hagrid's look of disbelief. "And I guarantee you that there are men, and yes, women out there who, like me, would count themselves very very fortunate to find someone of your size . . ." he seemed to drift off. "But even moreso, Hagrid," his eyes focused again clearly," someone of your great kindness and gentleness and goodness."
Hagrid felt tears gather against his eyelids. He'd never dared dream to hear such words spoken about himself. Never.
"And now," the Professor's tone was once again brisk and tutorial. "You must prepare me, and I will prepare you. We start with this fine almond oil." He snapped the lid of a small bottle and poured a little into Hagrid's palm. The Professor massaged the oil into Hagrid's fingers while coating his own hands. Then he scooted down Hagrid's body and gingerly rested his weight on Hagrid's thighs, careful not to pinch Hagrid's immense balls. He let Hagrid's hand go and instead, took up the boy's cock in both hands and began working it up and down till it was slick with the oil.
Hagrid threw his head back against the pillows and moaned low in his throat. His hips worked against the motion of the hands working him.
Satisfied, the Professor sat up again and pulled Hagrid's hand to him. "Try one finger," he whispered, guiding Hagrid's index finger to his hole. Hagrid wasn't quite sure, so he let the Professor push his finger within his opening. When the Professor dropped his hand he remained still, unsure what to do. The Professor's breath was speeding up. He slid himself back on Hagrid's finger and groaned mightily. Hagrid watched intently as the Professors' eyes seemed to cloud over with lust. He held his hand very still as the Professor moved himself back and forth on Hagrid's finger.
"Oh gods alive, Rubeus! Oh god. So good!" the Professor gasped. "Add another."
So Hagrid brought his middle finger to the opening and slid it in easily. He breathed shallowly, spellbound, unwilling to disturb this erotic miracle happening in his lap despite the friction on his balls and the base of† his cock that was driving him insane with the desire to writhe and moan. The Professors' own cock rubbed against his now, smooth soft skin covering hard hard blood engorged steel. His moans and gasps filled Hagrid's mind with a sweet bliss.
"Now Rubeus, I must have you now." With that, the Professor raised himself off of Hagrid's fingers and moved forward to hover just over the head of Hagrid's huge cock. He raised his face and met Hagrid's eyes as he set his ass down. Lust and love, but most important, Hagrid saw acceptance in his gaze. The Professor was about to accept him within his body just as he was, because of who and what he was. Then the Professor's ass was moving back and forth against the head of his cock and all coherent thought left. Emotions were swept away by pure physical sensation which quickly gave away to a horrible achingly vast need.
"Please . . . please . . ." Hagrid panted.
The Professor reached behind himself and steadied Hagrid's cock while working himself onto it.
Hagrid marveled at the expressions that flitted across the face above him, a grimace of pain, the pleasure of ecstasy, and when t he eyes flicked and met his, the warmth of an intimacy so great it stunned him, held him still as the strongest magic spell. He resisted the urge to grasp the Professor's hips and drive himself up into the tight opening. His breath continued in shallow pants and the Professor worked back and forth, back an inch at a time, groaning and biting his lips. Then finally, finally, Hagrid felt himself fully sheathed and let out a massive groan of his own at the sensation of the Professor's body gripping him so completely. It was so hot, sweat sprang out on his brow.
"And now," the Professor's voice shook with emotion, vibrated with† sensation, "put your hands here on my hips. Hold me." Hagrid complied and the Professor raised himself upright until he sat up straight and Hagrid was even more fully sheathed within him. Then he began moving.
Hagrid cried out at the sweet bliss of it, his fingers dug into the Professor's hips helping the back and forth motion that squeezed and pulled at his cock with pleasure beyond all reason.
"Oh God, Rubeus, oh sweet Merlin," the Professor panted between groans and sweet little whimpers that drove Hagrid closer and closer to the edge. His own breathing became labored until he puffed like a bellows. Faster and faster he couldn't get enough, couldn't get deep enough, couldn't get close enough. He forced his eyelids open and found himself grinning in answer to the beatific expression on the Professor's face.
Sensing something, Dumbledore looked down and met the boy's eyes. Giving wholeheartedly. They grinned at each other, matching pace, and steadily increasing. He had no time to be embarrassed by the little grunts and squeaks that escaped him with each wonderful thrust. Gods alive but he'd never been filled and stretched and so completed as this. As the boy pumped furiously inside him, he wanted to somehow crawl inside the boy. Quite unconsciously, rather in the heat of the moment, as it were, Dumbledore did send a bit of his essence into the boy-man lying beneath him. He became conscious of the currents of magic flowing between them. Sex between magical folk was never simple, and never without a magic of its own. And Hagrid was a natural force; the strength of mountain giants in his bones, a heart of gold in his blood, and . . . the tidal force . . . of the . . . moon on the ocean in his semen as he came. Power, raw elemental magical power, crashed into Dumbledore forcing a scream at the thrill of it, forcing his own orgasm. His inner muscles clamped down on the living wand within him. Hagrid let loose an answering bellow.
As the magical wave swept over him, Dumbledore couldn't resist, just couldn't resist grasping and storing a little of it away for himself, for his age, to replenish his energy, for his struggle against Grindewald's machinations.
He finally gave way and slumped down boneless against Hagrid's massive chest. He felt huge arms sweep him into a warm cuddle. In time, when breath returned, he raised his head and began kissing away Hagrid's tears. He hoped they were of joy. "And that, my dear boy, concludes today's lesson."
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Updates, drabbles, thoughts, and writing spurts appear on my Live Journal first.
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