Date: Sat, 05 Jan 2002 02:07:46 +0000
From: Logan Rollins <loganrollins@hotmail.com>
Subject: Harry Potter and the Quidditch Captain

To all my fans (and to my surprise, there are a few of you) I apologize for
the delay, but the holidays and work took up a lot of my time, so I didn't
get to work on this as much as I wanted.  Plus, they take some time since I
try to make them a little better than the average slash fiction.  I'll
leave you readers to be the judge at whether or not I succeed.  Of course,
all character and place names are copyright by Scholastic Books,
J.K. Rowling, and probably Warner Bros., and are used here without
permission, obviously.  As always, if you enjoyed the story, let me know,
and let me know where you want things to go.  This story is a direct result
of the requests of people who read the first story.  As usual, if you are
offended or shouldn't be reading stories where underage boys have sex, then
stop now and go do something else.  To the rest of you, I hope you enjoy
it.  Let me know.  My email is loganrollins@hotmail.com.


		  HARRY POTTER AND THE QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN

	"Congratulations, Harry, you did it again," Fred Weasley said as he
got ready to leave the locker room.  The Gryffindor team had just won their
latest match against Hufflepuff, Harry again pulling a miracle grab of the
Snitch from the grasp of the Hufflepuff seeker.  The resulting celebration
and congratulations had kept Harry on the field, receiving pats on the back
until well after the game had ended.  The result was to make him the last
one into the locker room to shower.
	"Thanks loads, Fred," Harry said.  "You played a great game, too."
	Fred blushed.  "See you in the dorm," he said, waving as he left.
	Harry slipped off his robe, shoes, and underwear, throwing them all
into his locker.  "Securum," he said, and heard the bolt click on his
locker.  He didn't really need to lock up his clothes, but he enjoyed
practicing his magic.
	As he walked toward the showers, his hand ran lightly over his boy
wand as he remembered the wonderful thing Ron had showed him.  Almost
immediately it stood out and Harry shivered as his fingers touched the sack
beneath.  Perhaps he would get a little stick practice while he was
showering.
	Drawing closer to the showers, he heard the rush of spraying water
and knew someone else was in the shower.  Harry looked at his turgid wand.
It wouldn't do at all for someone else to see him like this, unless it was
Ron, and Ron didn't play Quidditch.  Frowning, Harry pointed his finger
between his legs and said, "Deflateamus."  His tiny boyhood shriveled,
turning short and floppy.  Satisfied, Harry walked into the shower room.
	And his heart almost stopped.  Standing under a downpour or water,
his eyes closed, hands running through his brown hair, was Oliver Wood.
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he looked at the third year
student's body.  The Quiddich captain almost never showered down here and
this was the first time Harry had ever seen the older boy naked.  He was
almost perfection as near as Harry could see, from his tan skin, sharp
nose, and dark brown hair, to his tight stomach and firm legs.  Harry's
eyes fell on Oliver's wand and he was surprised to see a small patch of
curly brown hair nestled above it.  They hadn't taught anything about this
sort of thing at Hogwart's.
	Embarrassed, Harry thought to turn and leave, but before he could,
Oliver's eyes opened.  "Oh, hello Harry," he said, spotting the boy.  "Here
to take a late shower?"
	"Y-yes," Harry stammered, surprised at himself.  Why was he acting
like this?  It was only Oliver, but Harry thought it might be more.  It was
Oliver in the nude, and Harry found, to his astonishment, that he rather
enjoyed seeing the Quidditch captain like this.  He feared that his wand
might betray him, despite the earlier spell, as even now the area
surrounding it tingled.
	"Well, come on in, I don't mind.  I usually like to shower by
myself, but sometimes I enjoy other company."
	"Thanks," Harry said, stepping further into the shower.  He stopped
at the showerhead furthest from the captain and took off his glasses.
	"Oh, come off it, Harry.  If you stand down there, I'll have to
yell at you.  Come to this one."  Oliver pointed at the nozzle next to his.
	Harry hesitated only a moment before walking down and standing next
to Oliver.
	"That's better," the Quiddich captain said, smiling.
	Harry smiled back.  "Aqua sprayus," he said, and the water turned
on, pelting him with a warm spray.  It felt marvelous after the tough and
sweaty game, and for a moment Harry forgot everything as he enjoyed the
pounding shower.
	"You played a great game today, Harry," Oliver said after a minute
or so.
	"Thanks," Harry said, beaming.  "You were great yourself."
	"You're a very cute lad, did you know that?"
	Harry looked up at the older boy, surprised.  He had been called
many things by the other boys, but never cute.  "Thanks."
	"That's an interesting scar you have on your wink, there.  I
thought it was only on your forehead."
	"No," Harry said, blushing and pleased that Oliver would look that
closely at his body.  He felt the stirring and his wand came to half-life.
He turned so that his rear faced Oliver and tried to will his wand back
down.
	"Do you know why I usually like to come down here by myself?"
	"No.  Why?"
	"Because I like to play my own game down here."
	"What game is that?" Harry asked, but he thought he already knew,
because he looked over his shoulder and saw that Oliver's wand, beneath its
furry patch, had begun to grow.  In almost no time , it stood straight out,
five inches long and as thick as the end of Harry's Nimbus 2000.  The pink
head throbbed and Harry felt his own wand spring to full stance, hot and
hard.
	Oliver took Harry's shoulder and turned him so they faced each
other.  He smiled.  "I see you know this game, too," he said as he took his
wand in hand and began to stroke.
	"Yeah, Ro...really only recently."
	Oliver smiled wider.  "So Ron showed you, did he?  I'll bet he
learned it from Fred and George.  I like this game, but there's another
that's even better that you can do when there's two people.  Want to try
it?"
	"Sure," Harry said.  He trusted Oliver, and if the were even half
as pleasant as the one Ron showed him, it would be wonderful.
	"Okay, step out of the shower spray and close your eyes."
	Harry did, leaning again the warm tiles.  "So, wha-" He stopped as
he felt something warm and wet around his wand.  He opened his eyes and
found Oliver on his knees, his mouth engulfing Harry's magic tool.  He
started to protest, but as the older boy's head began bobbing, his tongue
flickering over Harry's shaft, all thoughts of complaint disappeared.
Harry laid his head against the shower wall as Oliver worked his own magic,
his mouth playing over Harry's pulsing rod.  Ron's game was fun, Harry
thought, but this one was exquisite, almost too much to bear.
	Under Oliver's expert mouth and tongue, Harry didn't last long.
After only a minute, arrows of pleasure shot up his spine, straight to his
head and back down, as his wand throbbed and jumped, rushing waves of
ecstasy hitting him.  He moaned as the magic raced through him, a thousand
times better than what his own hand could do.  His hips bucked, slamming
between the shower tiles and Oliver's face.  Another moan escaped him as
the second wave hit, and he had to grab the older boy's head to keep from
falling as his knees became wobbly.
	The pleasure subsided far too soon, and Oliver pulled away.  "Did
you like that?" he asked.
	Smiling, Harry could only nod.
	"Great, will you do it for me, then?"
	"Of course," Harry said.  "But I may not be as good as you."
	"You'll get the hang of it.  It's easier than riding a Quidditch
broom."
	They traded places, Oliver against the wall, Harry on his knees.
He looked at Oliver's wand, staring at him with its one eye, so big and
imposing.  He wasn't sure his mouth would fit around it, but he would give
it a try.  He wanted so much to return the wonderful feelings to his
captain.
	Putting his hand around the wand's base, he opened his mouth wide
and put it over the head.  He closed down and felt the spongy hardness of
it on his tongue and lips.  It seemed nice, and Harry thought it might be
as good to give this sort of magic as it was to receive it.  He started
moving back and forth slowly, taking in more and more of the silky, clean
tasting wand as he went, until he soon had it hitting the back of his
throat.  At first he almost choked, but he relaxed, much like he did when
riding his Nimbus, and he soon found it easy to take in all of Oliver's
wand, right down to the tickly hairs that grew above the captain's pole.
It was easier than riding a broom.
	As Harry grew more confident, he began moving faster and faster,
applying pressure with his tongue.  He felt his own wand grow rigid again
as he enjoyed the feeling of the Quidditch captain's rod in his mouth.  He
moved faster, Oliver's loud grunts attesting to Harry's success at this new
game.
	Harry felt Oliver's body suddenly stiffen.  "Pull off, Harry,"
Oliver said, his voice husky, and Harry took his mouth away, afraid he had
done something wrong.  Oliver reached down, wrapping one hand around his
wand and putting the other on Harry's head to steady himself.  He stroked
his rod three times and let out an enormous moan.
	Harry watched in amazement as Oliver's wand fired a thick stream of
white liquid, which struck Harry's chest with a forceful splat.
Mesmerized, Harry saw bolt after bolt of this magic juice squirt from
Oliver's quivering red wand head, each shot punctuated by a deep moan from
the older boy.  It ran down Harry's chest, some of it dribbling on to his
pointing boy baton.
	After what must have been ten squirts, the flow of magic slowed to
a trickle, a thin stream hanging from the end of Oliver's hole.  Oliver
looked down at Harry with a great grin.  "That was wonderful, Harry.
You're a natural, just like your broom riding."
	"What is this?" Harry asked, rubbing at the goo on his chest.
	"It's magic Jizz Juice," Oliver answered.  "It's what makes babies,
and it feels totally outstanding when it comes out.  You'll do it some day,
when you're a little older.  I had you pull off so it wouldn't scare you,
but next time I hope you'll keep your mouth on there and take it.  That is,
if you want there to be a next time."
	"Absolutely," Harry answered.  He looked down at his own pulsing
stick, the pressure to again feel that wonderful release foremost in his
mind.  "In fact, next time could be right now if you want."
	"Wicked," another voice suddenly spoke up.  Harry and Oliver turned
to see a naked, red headed Ron Weasley staring at them, his own boyish wand
looking at them when its unwinking eye.  "But I want to be a part of it
this time."
	"How long have you been standing there?" Harry asked, embarrassed.
	"Long enough to know that I want you to that to me," Ron said.
	"I will if you'll do if for me." Harry said.
	"This will be fun," Oliver said, "but I've got an idea.  Other
people might start showing up, since it's getting close to dinnertime.
Let's go to a place where I know we can all be alone, and I'll show you
even better games.  There's something that's even more fun to ride than a
broomstick."
	"Great," Harry said.
	"Totally wicked," Ron agreed.
	"Then get dressed and follow me," Oliver said.

TO BE CONTINUED