Moving Forward: Chapter 42

A/N: All characters involved in this fic are adults.

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his study at Hogwarts with his thoughts and a cup of tea that had long since grown cold. The events of the day, culminating in the disastrous Order meeting, weighed heavily on his mind.

For the first time in many years, he found himself questioning his own judgment. Not his ultimate goals, those remained unchanged. But his methods, his strategies, his careful approach to defeating Voldemort... all of it seemed suddenly inadequate when measured against Harry's direct action.

The boy had accomplished more in a few weeks than the Order had managed in months. More importantly, he'd given people hope at a time when hope was desperately needed.

Perhaps that was what troubled Dumbledore most. Not Harry's methods, not his apparent disregard for authority, but the growing realization that maybe, just maybe. the boy was right.

Maybe caution was no longer enough. Maybe the time for careful planning and political maneuvering had passed. Maybe what the wizarding world needed now was exactly what Harry Potter was providing—decisive action in the face of overwhelming darkness.

The thought should have brought comfort. Instead, it filled Dumbledore with a deep unease that he couldn't quite explain.

Change was coming, whether he was ready for it or not. The only question was whether he would adapt to it or be swept aside by it.

XXXXX

Nat entered the recovery room carrying a fresh tray of diagnostic crystals and healing potions. Bathsheda sat between the two beds, reading quietly while keeping watchful eyes on her friends. Harry walked in a few seconds later and stood against the far wall, his arms crossed.

Aurora was awake, staring at the ceiling with deep concentration. Septima merely appeared to be sleeping, but she was actually lost in thought. Both women looked physically better—the pale, sickly cast to their skin had faded, and their breathing was steady and strong.

"How are we feeling?" Nat asked warmly, setting her tray down on the bedside table and pulling her wand out.

"Physically? Much better," Aurora replied, though she didn't look at Nat directly. "Emotionally? That's more complicated."

Septima's eyes opened at the sound of their voices. "The crawling sensation is almost gone," she said. "But there's something else now. Like a... pull. Toward..." She glanced at Harry for a moment before looking away quickly, color rising in her cheeks.

Nat nodded knowingly while beginning her examination of Aurora. Her wand glowed with that familiar silver light as she checked pulse points and magical resonance. "That's completely normal. The bond creates a sense of connection, of awareness. You'll always know roughly where Harry is, how he's feeling."

"I don't want to know how he's feeling," Septima said firmly, but even as she spoke, she winced slightly.

From his position against the wall, Harry shifted uncomfortably. The distress radiating from both women through their newly formed bonds felt like a constant ache in his chest. It was taking considerable effort not to move closer to them, not to try and comfort them in ways that would only make things worse.

"The bond works both ways," Nat explained gently, moving to examine Septima. "Harry can feel your distress right now. It's probably quite uncomfortable for him."

Both professors looked at Harry with surprise, but then quickly away again when they met his concerned gaze.

"I'm sorry," Aurora said quietly, her voice barely audible. "I didn't realize..."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Harry said immediately, his voice carefully controlled. "This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

"But it is affecting you," Septima replied, her voice soft. "Our negative emotions are causing you pain."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "Some. But that doesn't mean you should suppress what you're feeling. The bond will stabilize eventually, and the emotional feedback will become more manageable."

Nat finished her examinations and straightened up with a satisfied expression. "Physically, you're both nearly one hundred percent recovered. The curse damage has been completely healed, and your magical reserves are back to normal levels."

"So we can get back to our normal lives now?" Aurora asked hopefully.

"You can move around now, yes," Nat confirmed. "But I'd recommend staying here for at least another day or two. Your bodies have been through significant trauma, and pushing too hard too soon could cause setbacks."

"More importantly," Bathsheda interjected gently, "where would you go? Our original plan was to leave Britain entirely, but now..."

Aurora and Septima exchanged concerned glances.

"The offer to stay here stands," Harry said from his position against the wall. "No pressure, no expectations. Just a safe place to recover and figure out your next steps."

"While feeling magically compelled to... to care about you," Septima said, though her tone lacked the earlier venom.

"The caring isn't compulsive," Nat corrected patiently. "The awareness is constant, yes, but the emotions that develop are genuine. The bond simply makes it impossible to ignore connections that already exist."

"How can we trust our own feelings?" Aurora asked, frustration clear in her voice. "How can we know what's real and what's magical influence?"

"The same way you trust any feeling," Bathsheda said softly. "By examining it, questioning it, seeing how it stands up to scrutiny over time."

Aurora sat up slowly, testing her strength. The movement was much easier than it had been earlier, and she managed it without the stabbing pain that had accompanied her previous attempts. "I keep thinking about how grateful I am," she admitted reluctantly. "Not just for saving our lives, but for... for caring enough to risk accessing those memories. And I hate that I can't tell if that's me or the bond talking."

"Does it matter?" Septima asked quietly, and all eyes turned to her in surprise. She was sitting up now too, her analytical mind working through the problem. "From a purely logical standpoint, gratitude for having your life saved is a completely rational emotion. The bond might amplify it, but the foundation is sound."

"Septima..." Aurora said warningly.

"I'm not saying we should just accept this," Septima continued, her voice growing stronger. "I'm saying we should approach it rationally. What are the facts? Harry Potter saved our lives at considerable personal cost. That deserves gratitude. The magical bond creates a connection between us. That's simply reality now, whether we like it or not."

Harry felt a small surge of hope through the bond, quickly suppressed. Septima's practical approach to the situation was encouraging, even if Aurora still seemed deeply conflicted.

"So what are you suggesting?" Aurora asked.

"I'm suggesting we stay for a few days, as Nat recommended," Septima said. "Not because of the bond, but because we need time to recover and plan our next moves. We can use that time to better understand what we're dealing with."

Aurora considered this, her internal struggle evident on her face. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I suppose that makes sense. But I want to be clear. We're not agreeing to anything beyond recovery time."

"Understood," Harry said immediately. "Whatever you decide, you'll have my support."

The sincerity in his voice made both women look at him again, and Harry could feel their confusion through the bond. They wanted to trust him, but their logical minds rebelled against trusting feelings that might be magically influenced.

"I'll leave you to rest," Nat said, beginning to pack up her supplies. "Call if you need anything. Bathsheda, could you stay with them for a while longer?"

"Of course," Bathsheda agreed readily.

As Nat prepared to leave, Harry pushed off from the wall. "I should go as well. Let you all talk."

But as he moved toward the door, both Aurora and Septima felt a sharp spike of distress – not their own, but his. The thought of him leaving created an almost physical ache, and they both looked startled by the intensity of the feeling.

"The proximity effect," Nat explained quietly, noticing their expressions. "It's strongest in the first few days after a bond forms. Since you’ve not established the bond yet, being near Harry feels comfortable, but being separated feels... less so."

"This is going to take some getting used to," Aurora muttered, rubbing her temples.

"It’d get easier with less resistance," Nat told her calmly. "The bond needs to stabilize for things to get normal."

She didn’t need to spell it out loud for them. They knew what she was talking about, and what was needed for the bond to be properly established. The images the thought invoked in their minds did not help matters in the slightest.

Harry paused in the doorway, clearly torn between wanting to ease their discomfort and not wanting to impose his presence where it wasn't wanted.

"You can stay," Septima said reluctantly, glancing over at him. "Just... maybe sit farther away?"

With a small smile, Harry nodded and moved to a chair near the window, as far from the beds as he could get while still remaining in the room. The distance helped somewhat, though the bond's pull remained constant.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better," Aurora confirmed, though she still looked troubled by how much the distance had affected her.

Nat gathered her things and left the room, leaving the four of them in an awkward but more manageable silence.

XXXXX

An hour later, Harry found Bathsheda in the library, surrounded by books on magical theory and bond dynamics. She looked up as he entered, offering him a sympathetic smile.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, marking her place in the text she'd been reading.

"I've been better," Harry admitted, settling into a chair across from her. "The bond feedback is... intense. Their distress is like a constant headache."

"That sounds exhausting," Bathsheda said with genuine sympathy. "From what I've read in these texts and heard from the others, the initial bond formation can be quite overwhelming for everyone involved."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I keep wanting to comfort them, to try and make them feel better. But anything I do just makes it worse because they can't trust their own responses to me."

"It's a difficult situation," Bathsheda agreed, glancing at the books spread before her. "According to these texts, bonds formed under traumatic circumstances often create this kind of internal conflict. The bonded person wants comfort but questions whether that desire is genuinely theirs."

"The others didn’t go through the same thing."

"From what they've told me, each situation was different. Some embraced the bond quickly, others took time to accept it. But they all eventually found peace with it."

Harry nodded. As she said, most of the women had accepted the bond easily, either because there had been a debt or because they were already interested in him. Only Narcissa had taken more time than he’d expected, but eventually, she’d come around as well.

"And if Professors Sinistra and Vector can't?" Harry asked, not wanting to hear a negative answer.

"Then they can't," Bathsheda said simply. "You can't force anyone to accept something like this, and from what I've seen, you wouldn't try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Harry processing her words while Bathsheda returned to her reading. Finally, Harry spoke again.

"Professor? Can I ask you something about what you've observed here?"

"Of course."

"How would you really describe the bond? Beyond what we discussed with Professors Sinistra and Vector, I mean. In our daily lives."

Bathsheda set down her book and considered the question seriously. "From what the women around here have shared with me, the bond seems to provide a sense of security and belonging. Nat mentioned feeling like she finally had a place where she truly belonged. Miss Greengrass talked about it like having a constant connection to someone who understands her completely."

"To you, does it seem to limit their autonomy?"

"Not from what I can see," Bathsheda said thoughtfully. "If anything, many of them seem more confident, more willing to take risks. More than one of them have mentioned that the bond gave them courage they didn't know they had, especially regarding… carnal urges."

Harry pressed his lips and smiled thinly at her slightly uncomfortable expression, filing away her insights.

"Mr. Potter," Bathsheda said, leaning forward slightly, "what you've created here—this group, this purpose—it's clearly meaningful to everyone involved. You're giving them something worth fighting for. Do not doubt it, or the emotions you all share. It might be unconventional, but I’ve come to understand that it’s unfair to judge from an outsider’s perspective as well."

"For some reason, I have my doubts that Professors Sinistra and Vector would see it that way," Harry chuckled humorlessly. Bathsheda frowned. She could see that the rejection of this bond by both her friends was affecting Harry quite deeply, even though he tried not to show his true emotions. And it was a rock and hard place she found herself in.

While one part of her recognized that it would be wise of her friends to accept this bond, another part of her also knew that it was not so easy to give in when you considered all the variables involved. After all, it was an intimate matter, the person involved was their student, and it would involve sharing their intimate partner with numerous other women.

"Then they can't," Bathsheda said finally. "But you also shouldn't blame yourself for trying to save their lives. Whatever the consequences, that was the right thing to do."

"Thank you," he said finally. "For staying to help them. For trying to understand all this."

"Thank you for saving all three of us," Bathsheda replied. "Which brings me to something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh? What is it?"

Bathsheda took a deep breath, clearly gathering her courage. "I want to join your war effort. Officially."

Harry blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting this. "Professor, you already are helping by staying to support Professors Sinistra and Vector—"

"No, I mean really join," Bathsheda interrupted. "I want to fight. I want to use my knowledge and skills to help you take down You-Know-Who and his followers."

Harry stared at her, clearly taken aback by her sudden declaration. "Are you sure? Didn’t you say you were planning to flee Britain entirely?"

"Yesterday, I was a coward," Bathsheda said firmly. "Today I'm someone who fought for her life, who almost lost her two closest friends, and who's seen what you're all accomplishing. I’ve thought a lot about everything, and I want to be part of it."

"What changed your mind?"

"Watching you all work together was the main factor," Bathsheda said immediately. "Seeing the dedication, the skill, the genuine care for people you don't even know. Listening to stories about the lives you've saved, the difference you're making. And... well, seeing Aurora and Septima lying there, dying from a curse cast by one of them. I realized I no longer want to run from this war."

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her face intently. "It's dangerous work, Professor. We're not just fighting. We're getting involved in politics, actively hunting Death Eaters, disrupting their operations. There’s a high risk of death in this, and even now a part of me wants to just give it all up if it means the people I love would be safe."

"People are dying anyway, Mr. Potter," Bathsheda said with a sad smile. "At least this way, I'd be doing something about it instead of just hiding until they come for me anyway."

Harry remained quiet for a long moment, clearly processing her declaration. She looked resolute, and he didn’t think her mind was going to change now.

"Alright,” he said finally. “Your specialty… Ancient Runes. You think that would be useful?"

Bathsheda's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Oh yes. From what I've overheard, you're working on some kind of runic project. I don’t know exactly what it involves. But I guess it’s regarding protective wards, offensive applications, maybe even ritual modifications? I've been studying Ancient Runes for fifteen years, and I’m one of the most skilled runecrafters out there. I know applications and combinations that most people have never even heard of."

Harry felt a surge of genuine excitement. She was right. Her expertise would be invaluable to their ongoing project on the Dark Mark replication.

"We'd love to have you," he said sincerely. "If you're really sure this is what you want."

"I'm sure," Bathsheda said firmly. "More sure than I've been about anything in years."

Harry nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Professor, since you’re going to be involved properly, there's something I should tell you. About why I started all this, about why I did the ritual that created these bonds."

"You mentioned a betrayal," Bathsheda said carefully. "Someone you trusted above anyone else. The Headmaster?"

Harry's entire demeanor shifted, his jaw tightening and his eyes growing cold. "Dumbledore," he said simply, and the name carried enough venom to poison a basilisk. "He is fighting Voldemort, but his methods... let's just say he believes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Even when the few include the people he's supposed to protect."

"What did he do?" Bathsheda asked quietly.

Harry was silent for a long moment, his hands clenched into fists. "He... he made choices about my life without consulting me. Choices he had no right to make."

The pain in Harry's voice was evident, and Bathsheda could see that whatever Dumbledore had done, it had cut Harry to the core.

"It must have been something very serious," she said softly, "for you to break with him so completely."

Harry nodded grimly. "It was the kind of betrayal that makes you realize you can't trust anyone else to make the important decisions. That's why I performed the ritual. I needed allies I could count on absolutely, people who would put my wellbeing above their own calculations and interests."

"Mr. Potter… Harry," Bathsheda said gently, "I won't push you for details if you don't want to share them."

"It's not that I don't trust you," Harry said quickly, his expression softening slightly. "It's just not something I like reliving. The details... they're not pleasant."

"I understand," Bathsheda assured him.

Harry gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. For understanding, for staying, for everything."

Bathsheda smiled gently, seeing in front of her not the leader of this resistance group but a young man who had the burden of the world on his shoulders and who had gone through ordeal he should never have. She instinctively reached out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, the gesture surprising even herself.

“None of that,” she said softly. Before she could continue, there was a soft knock on the library door. Nym poked her head in, her eyes immediately falling on their joined hands. Bathsheda gently pulled her hand back just as Nym pushed the door open and walked in.

"There you are," she said, looking at Harry. "A letter just arrived for you. The owl seemed pretty insistent it was urgent. It’s clean."

Bathsheda stood immediately, smoothing her robes down. "I'll leave you to your correspondence," she said tactfully. "Thank you for the conversation, Harry."

As she left, Nym’s eyes followed her, a small quirk of her lips giving away exactly what was going on in her mind. Bathsheda left, closing the door behind her, as Harry took the envelope.

His name was written on the front in handwriting he recognized but hadn't seen in months.

He broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his expression growing more surprised with each line he read.

"What is it?" Nym asked, settling sideways into his lap with ease.

"It's from Remus," Harry said, looking up from the parchment with genuine bewilderment. "He wants to meet with me. Says he has things to discuss that can't be put in writing."

Nym frowned, absently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "That's... unexpected. Any idea what he might want?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "None. He’s always been in Dumbledore’s camp. We’ve had little contact since all this started."

"Could it be a trap? I wouldn’t put anything past Dumbledore, if I’m being honest."

"Maybe," Harry admitted. "But it doesn't feel like one. The letter... it sounds like he's genuinely conflicted about something."

Nym leaned closer so she could glance at the letter, her expression serious. "Where does he want to meet?"

"The Shrieking Shack," Harry read from the letter. "Tomorrow evening. Says he'll come alone."

"Well, you're not going alone to meet him in an isolated location."

"I wasn't planning to go alone anyway," Harry said with a chuckle. "I was hoping you'd come with me."

“Good choice,” Nym grinned, pecking him softly.

"Come on, Nym. It’s the obvious choice. You know Remus better than I do," Harry remarked idly. "You'd be able to tell if he is acting strangely, if something is off about the situation. And frankly, your Auror instincts might come in handy if this does turn out to be a trap."

"Alright. But we go in prepared. Enchanted gear, emergency portkeys, and someone else knows exactly where we are and when to expect us back."

"Agreed," Harry said immediately. "Though honestly, I'm more curious than concerned. Remus has never been one for elaborate schemes. If he wanted to betray me, he'd probably just do it straightforwardly."

"Famous last words," Nym muttered, but she was smiling slightly. "Still, it could be interesting to hear what he has to say. Maybe the cracks are starting to show in Dumbledore's grand plan."

Harry folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his pocket. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."

“I guess we will,” she grinned, before turning around in his lap so that she was straddling him. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m craving something right now.”

Harry’s breath caught as Nym shifted in his lap, her grin wicked and teasing. Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, fingers tracing small circles on his nape that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Craving something, huh?” he managed, his voice low. “What’s that, then?”

Nym leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.” Her voice was a sultry purr, and she pressed herself against him, hips rocking slightly.

Harry’s hands found her waist, gripping just tight enough to feel the warmth of her through her shirt.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, but his smirk betrayed how little he minded.

“Only the best kind,” she shot back, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair. She tugged gently, tilting his head back, and her lips hovered over his, close enough that he could feel her breath. “You gonna do something about it, or just sit there?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Nym sighed into the kiss, her body pressing closer, her hips grinding against him in a slow rhythm that made his pulse race. His hands slid under her shirt, fingers brushing the soft skin of her lower back, pulling her tighter against him.

She broke the kiss for a moment, gasping softly, her eyes half-lidded and gleaming with mischief. “That’s more like it,” she breathed, before diving back in, her tongue teasing his, her movements growing bolder. The friction of her grinding against him was maddening, each roll of her hips drawing a quiet groan from his throat.

“Nym,” he managed between kisses, his voice rough, “you’re testing my patience now.”

“Good,” she murmured against his lips, her hands slipping down to tug at his shirt, pulling it up just enough to slide her fingers along his chest. “Let’s see how much you can handle.”

Their kisses grew hungrier, messier, as she kept up that torturous rhythm, her body moving against his in a way that left no doubt about what she wanted. Harry’s hands roamed higher, tracing the curve of her spine, then back down to grip her hips, guiding her movements just enough to match her intensity.

He drifted lower and kissed her neck, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts through her shirt. She arched her back, pressing into his touch as he squeezed them gently at first, then firmer. Her nipples hardened under the fabric, poking out like they begged for attention. He thumbed over them, circling slowly while his lips trailed down to her collarbone. She moaned softly, her hips grinding against his lap, feeling his cock press against her.

She pulled back just enough to yank her shirt over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra followed quickly after, exposing her full, perky tits to the cool air. Harry stared for a second, then dove in. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand kneaded the other breast. His tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive bud, making her gasp. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he switched sides, lavishing the same attention on her other tit. He bit lightly, just enough to send a jolt through her, and she rocked harder against him.

His free hand wandered down, slipping under her skirt to rub her thigh. But he didn't go further yet. Instead, he focused on her chest, massaging both breasts now, pinching her nipples between his fingers. She loved how he handled them—rough but not too much, making her pussy ache with need.

"Fuck, Harry, that feels good," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

He grinned up at her, then buried his face between her tits, kissing the soft skin there. His hands pushed them together, creating a valley for his tongue to explore. She reached down and unbuttoned his shirt, peeling it open to run her nails over his chest. But Harry wasn't done with her yet. He sucked on her left nipple again, harder this time, while rolling the right one between his thumb and forefinger. Her body trembled, and she felt wetness pooling between her legs.

After a few more minutes of that, Harry's hands moved lower. He hiked up her skirt and hooked his fingers into her panties, sliding them down her thighs. She lifted her hips to help, kicking them off. Now fully exposed, she spread her legs wider over his lap. But before diving in, Harry shifted focus. He unzipped his pants, freeing his hardening cock. It sprang out, thick and veiny, already leaking a bit of precum.

She licked her lips, but Harry guided her hand to his balls first.

"Play with them," he said, his voice low and commanding. She cupped his sack, feeling the weight in her palm. Gently, she rolled them between her fingers, massaging the sensitive skin. Harry groaned, his head falling back as she tugged lightly, then squeezed. All the while, he kept playing with her tits, twisting her nipples to keep her on edge.

She leaned down, kissing his neck while her hand worked his balls. She alternated pressure—soft strokes, then firmer grips—watching his cock twitch in response. Harry reached between her legs now, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in slow circles, making her hips buck.

"You're so wet," he murmured, slipping a finger inside her pussy. She clenched around him, still fondling his balls.

They stayed like that for a while, building the heat. Harry's finger pumped in and out of her, his thumb on her clit, while she massaged his balls and stroked the base of his cock occasionally. Her tits bounced with each movement, and he couldn't resist leaning forward to suck on them again. The combination had her moaning louder, her body craving more.

Finally, she slid off his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs. Harry watched her, his cock throbbing in anticipation. She wrapped her hand around the shaft, stroking it slowly from base to tip. Precum smeared over her fingers, making it slick. She looked up at him with a wicked smile, then leaned in to lick the head, tasting the saltiness.

Harry hissed in pleasure as her tongue swirled around the tip. She teased him at first, flicking over the slit, then tracing the ridge. Her other hand went back to his balls, cupping and rolling them while she worked his cock with her mouth. She took him deeper, inch by inch, her lips stretching around his thickness. He was big, filling her mouth completely as she bobbed her head.

She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks to create suction. Harry threaded his fingers through her hair, guiding her rhythm but not forcing it. She hummed around him, the vibration sending shocks up his spine. Spit dribbled down his shaft, and she used it to stroke what she couldn't fit in her mouth. Every few sucks, she'd pull off to lick his balls, taking one into her mouth gently while pumping his cock with her hand.

"Fuck, that's amazing," Harry groaned, his hips thrusting slightly. She took him deep again, relaxing her throat to swallow more. Her nose brushed his groin as she deep-throated him, holding for a second before pulling back with a gasp. She repeated it, faster now, her hand twisting on the upstroke. His balls tightened in her other hand, signaling he was getting close.

But she didn't want him to finish yet. She slowed down, edging him with light licks and kisses along the length. Harry panted, his hands clenching the chair arms. She grinned up at him, then sucked just the head while caressing his balls. The tease drove him wild, but he held back.

After a solid ten minutes of her expert blowjob, she stood up, her lips swollen and shiny. Harry pulled her back onto his lap, positioning her over his cock. She straddled him again, guiding the tip to her entrance. Slowly, she sank down, taking him inside her inch by inch. Her pussy stretched around him, hot and tight, until he was fully buried.

She started riding him in cowgirl, her hips rolling in a steady rhythm. Harry grabbed her tits immediately, squeezing them as she bounced. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust, and he thumbed her nipples, pinching hard enough to make her cry out.

"Yes! Play with them," she moaned, grinding down harder.

His cock hit deep inside her, filling her completely. She leaned forward, pressing her tits into his face. Harry sucked on one nipple while kneading the other tit, his free hand sliding around to her ass. He gripped a cheek, squeezing the firm flesh as she rode him faster.

She picked up speed, her pussy clenching around his shaft. Harry smacked her ass lightly, the sound echoing in the room. She yelped in surprise, then moaned as the sting turned to pleasure. He did it again, harder, while still lavishing her tits with his mouth. His tongue circled her areola, then flicked the bud rapidly.

Her movements grew frantic, slamming down onto him. Harry switched hands, now playing with her other breast while his fingers dug into her ass. He spread her cheeks, teasing the cleft but not going further yet. The double sensation—tits and ass—had her on the edge.

"Fuck me harder," she demanded, and Harry thrust up to meet her. Their bodies slapped together, sweat slicking their skin. He bit her nipple gently, tugging with his teeth, while slapping her ass again. The heat built, her clit rubbing against his pubic bone with each grind.

Harry's hand ventured deeper, his finger circling her asshole. She gasped but didn't stop him. He pressed the tip in slowly, just the first knuckle, while she continued riding. The added fullness made her pussy tighten even more around his cock. He pumped his finger in time with her bounces, all while sucking her tit.

“Fuck! Harry!”

Nym came first, her orgasm crashing over her. Her walls pulsed around him, milking his shaft as she screamed his name. Harry kept thrusting, his finger still in her ass, prolonging her pleasure. Her tits heaved with her heavy breaths, her nipples red from his attention.

Even after she came, she continued riding him, slower now to build him up. Harry grabbed both ass cheeks, spreading them as he thrust up. His fingers teased her asshole again, dipping in deeper this time.

She leaned back, giving him better access to her tits. He sat up slightly, sucking one while pinching the other. His cock pounded into her, the angle hitting her G-spot perfectly. She felt another orgasm building, fueled by his ass play.

Harry's finger fucked her ass steadily now, matching the rhythm. She moaned loudly, her body shaking. "Don't stop," she begged. He added a second finger, stretching her gently. The burn turned to bliss, amplifying everything.

Her tits bounced wildly as she rode harder. Harry latched onto a nipple, sucking like he couldn't get enough. His other hand smacked her ass cheek, then soothed it with a rub. The mix of pain and pleasure pushed her over again. She came hard, squirting a little around his cock.

That did it for Harry. He groaned into her breast, his hips bucking as he filled her with hot cum. His fingers stilled in her ass, but he kept squeezing her tit through his release. They rode out the waves together, their bodies locked in ecstasy.

She collapsed onto his chest, both panting. His cock softened inside her, but neither moved yet. Harry's hands roamed lazily over her back, occasionally cupping her ass or brushing her tits. The afterglow lingered, their skin sticky and satisfied.

But the craving wasn't fully sated. Just a minute later, she sat up, his cum dripping down her thighs. She grinned, reaching for his balls again. "Round two?" she asked, massaging them gently.

He couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to.

To be continued…