Christmas at The Burrow (Ch. 11 - Fleur's Games) (Patreon)

Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).

Fleur Delacour's magnificent arse dropped into Harry's lap without warning.

One moment he was wedged on the sofa between Hermione and Ginny, trying very hard to pay attention to whatever Arthur was saying about Muggle toasters, and the next moment the married Veela was settling herself onto his thighs, her weight pressing down on him, her hips wiggling as she adjusted her position with far more movement than was strictly necessary.

"Pardon," Fleur murmured over her shoulder mischievously, "but zere are no more seats."

She wiggled again, her round arse grinding against his crotch, and Harry's cock twitched traitorously in his trousers.

Fuck.

The Burrow's living room was indeed packed. Every chair, every cushion, every available surface had been claimed for the family's Boxing Day afternoon tea, a sprawling affair that had apparently required the entire extended clan to squeeze into one room with plates of biscuits and steaming cups balanced on every knee. Arthur sat in his favourite armchair by the fire, pontificating about the ingenuity of spring-loaded bread slots to a politely glazed-looking Charlie. Ron and the twins occupied the floor near the hearth, arguing about Quidditch statistics. Bill sat across the room in the other armchair, looking relaxed and happy and completely oblivious to the fact that his wife had just planted her bare cunt directly on top of another man's lap.

Because Harry was becoming increasingly certain that Fleur wasn't wearing anything under that dress.

The dress in question was a crime against decency. A deep burgundy number that clung to every curve of her Veela body, ending mid-thigh in a way that had probably been respectable when she'd stood up, but had ridden up considerably now that she was seated. Harry could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric, could feel the soft weight of her cheeks spreading across his thighs, could feel the distinct absence of any knicker-line as she continued to squirm.

"Fleur was just powdering 'er nose," Bill had explained when she'd arrived late to the gathering, and Harry had thought nothing of it at the time, but now he was beginning to suspect that "powdering her nose" had involved peeling off her panties and leaving them behind.

Ginny leaned in from Harry's left side, her perky tits pressing against his arm through her thin jumper, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered: "Heard from Hermione that Fleur caught you two going at it over the back of this very sofa earlier today."

Harry's face flushed. On his other side, Hermione made a strangled noise of embarrassment, her cheeks going pink.

"Ginny!" she hissed.

But Ginny just grinned, completely unrepentant. "What? It's hot. You bent over with your leggings around your knees, Harry stuffing you full while Fleur watched." She pressed closer, her nipples hard points against his bicep. "Makes sense she'd want a turn, doesn't it?"

Fleur chose that exact moment to shift again, her arse grinding down in a slow, deliberate circle that left absolutely no doubt about her intentions. Harry felt his cock begin to stiffen despite himself, pressing up against the warmth of her cunt through his trousers, and Fleur let out the softest little sigh of appreciation.

"Perhaps she's had enough watching," Ginny murmured, her breath hot against his neck. "Perhaps she wants to play."

Hermione shot her a look that was half mortified, half annoyed. "You're terrible. She's married."

"I'm observant." Ginny's hand found Harry's arm, squeezing meaningfully. "Also, fair warning, Harry. Hermione's been looking for revenge all afternoon. Something about being humiliated in front of a gorgeous Veela while cumming her brains out on your cock."

"Ginny!"

But before Harry could process that particular threat, Fleur leaned forward.

The movement was ostensibly innocent. A plate of Molly's famous shortbread biscuits sat on the low table in front of them, and Fleur was simply reaching for one, bending at the waist, her silver-blonde hair cascading forward over her shoulders. Perfectly normal. Completely acceptable.

Except that bending forward meant her arse rose up from Harry's lap, and the already-too-short dress rode up over the swell of her magnificent cheeks, and suddenly Harry was staring at the most perfect cunt he had ever seen.

Holy fucking Merlin.

Fleur's pussy was on display between her parted thighs, pink and glistening and completely bare. Her outer lips were puffy and soft, framing the darker pink of her inner folds, which glistened with obvious arousal. She was wet. Soaking, actually. Harry could see the moisture beading on her smooth skin, could see the way her entrance clenched around nothing, hungry and wanting. Above her cunt, her tight little arsehole winked at him, a tiny pink pucker nestled between her magnificent cheeks.

Bill's wife was flashing her bare pussy at Harry in the middle of a crowded family gathering.

Time seemed to stop. Harry couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except stare at that perfect wet cunt mere inches from his face. His cock was rock hard now, straining against his trousers, desperate to be buried inside that gorgeous pussy.

Fleur selected a biscuit with agonising slowness, her arse still raised, her cunt still on display. Harry was dimly aware of Hermione's sharp intake of breath beside him, of Ginny's soft laugh, of the continued oblivious chatter filling the room. None of the men had noticed. They were all facing other directions, deep in their own conversations, completely unaware that Harry was getting an eyeful of married Veela cunt.

Then he felt something else.

A whispered spell from his right side, too soft to catch the words. The sensation of invisible fingers working at his waist. His trouser button popping open on its own. His zipper sliding down.

Harry looked at Hermione with wide eyes. She was staring straight ahead, her expression perfectly innocent, but her wand was hidden in her sleeve and there was a flush high on her cheeks that gave her away.

The little minx.

His cock flopped free from his trousers, thick and hard and standing at full attention, and Fleur chose that exact moment to sit back down.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Fleur's hips descended toward his lap, her wet cunt aimed right at his exposed shaft. Harry watched, frozen, hypnotised, as her pink folds came closer and closer. His cock stood proud between his thighs, the fat head glistening with pre-cum, aimed up at her descending pussy.

The tip brushed her wetness.

Fleur shuddered.

And then she dropped.

His entire length speared into her in one smooth motion, her tight cunt swallowing his thick shaft to the root, her arse settling against his thighs as she took him balls deep. Harry's vision went white. Her pussy was impossibly tight, impossibly hot, squeezing his cock like a vice as her body adjusted to his girth.

Fuck. Fuck. I'm inside Fleur. I'm buried in Bill's wife's cunt in the middle of the fucking living room.

Fleur bit into her biscuit, the picture of casual elegance, while Harry's cock throbbed inside her married pussy.

"Mmm," she murmured appreciatively. "Delicious."

Harry couldn't tell if she meant the biscuit or the cock.

The room continued around them, completely oblivious. Arthur was still going on about toasters. The twins were arguing loudly about whether the Falcons' new Seeker was worth his transfer fee. Molly was fussing over Charlie's tea, insisting he needed more sugar. And in the middle of it all, Harry sat with his cock buried to the hilt in another man's wife, her tight walls rippling around him as she took another dainty bite of shortbread.

Fleur began to move.

The motion was subtle at first, barely perceptible. A gentle rock of her hips, a slight rise and fall, her cunt sliding up his shaft an inch before dropping back down. To anyone watching, she was simply fidgeting, trying to get comfortable on her crowded seat. But Harry could feel every increment of movement, could feel the drag of her wet walls along his sensitive length, could feel the way her pussy clenched each time she took him deep.

"Mmm," Fleur sighed again, shifting her weight, taking him from a slightly different angle. "Zis biscuit is perfect."

Harry's hands found her hips, ostensibly to steady her. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her waist, gripping her through the thin fabric of her dress, and Fleur responded by grinding down harder, rolling her hips in a slow circle that made his eyes cross.

She's fucking herself on my cock. In front of everyone. In front of her husband.

On his left, Ginny pressed closer, her hand massaging his biceps. "How does she feel, Harry?" she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. "Tight? Wet? Is she squeezing your cock right now?"

He couldn't answer. Speech had abandoned him entirely. All he could do was grip Fleur's hips and try not to groan out loud as she continued her subtle, devastating rhythm.

Hermione leaned in from the right, her voice equally hushed. "Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"

Fleur's bouncing grew more pronounced.

The rise and fall of her hips was becoming harder to disguise as mere fidgeting. Each time she lifted, Harry could feel the cool air kiss his slick skin before she dropped back down and engulfed him in tight heat again. Her cunt was absolutely soaking, her juices running down his balls, and the wet sounds of their coupling were starting to become audible beneath the cover of conversation.

Someone's going to hear. Someone's going to notice. This is insane.

But Harry couldn't stop. His hands on her hips weren't holding her still anymore. They were pulling her down each time she lifted, dragging her back onto his cock with increasing urgency. He was fucking her now, using his grip to guide her movements, to bury himself deeper in her married cunt with every descent.

And across the room, Harry caught Gabrielle's eye.

Fleur's sister sat in a straight-backed chair opposite the sofa, her long legs crossed demurely, her short skirt riding up her creamy thighs. Her silver-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face, and her blue eyes were fixed directly on where Harry and Fleur were joined.

She knew exactly what was happening.

One of Gabrielle's hands had disappeared beneath a pillow on her lap, and Harry could see the subtle movement of her arm, the way her breathing had quickened, the flush spreading across her cheeks. She was touching herself while watching her sister fuck him.

Holy shit.

His gaze swept the room, suddenly paranoid, and found more knowing eyes than he'd expected.

Apolline sat beside her youngest daughter, elegant and composed, but her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her thighs were pressed tightly together. The Veela matriarch he'd bent over the kitchen table last night was watching her daughter take his cock and clearly getting wet from the show.

Molly caught his eye from across the room and actually winked.

They all know. Every witch in this room knows I'm balls deep in Fleur's pussy.

Only the men remained oblivious. Arthur and his toasters. Charlie and his dragons. Ron and the twins and their endless Quidditch debates. And Bill, sitting right there, completely unaware that his wife was riding another man's cock mere feet away.

Fleur's movements grew bolder.

She was properly bouncing now, her arse rising several inches before dropping back down, the wet squelch of their fucking barely concealed by the ambient noise. Her cunt was clenching rhythmically around his shaft, her walls rippling with building pleasure, and Harry could feel her heartbeat pulsing through her most intimate flesh.

"Fleur, dear." Bill's voice cut through the haze. "Are you alright? You look flushed."

Harry's heart stopped.

Fleur didn't even falter. She continued her rhythm, rising and falling on his cock, as she turned her head toward her husband with a serene smile. "Oui, mon amour. Just a bit warm."

"Shall I open a window?"

"Non, non." She dropped particularly hard, taking Harry to the hilt, her cunt squeezing him so tightly he nearly came on the spot. "I am comfortable where I am."

Bill smiled and turned back to his conversation with Arthur, satisfied that his wife was fine.

Harry's grip on Fleur's hips tightened.

She's got balls of steel. Absolute fucking brass.

The knowledge that Bill was right there, that one wrong move would expose everything, should have been terrifying. But instead it only made Harry harder, only made his cock throb more desperately inside her married cunt. He wanted to fuck her properly, wanted to bend her over this sofa the way he'd bent Hermione over it earlier, wanted to pound into her until she screamed his name loud enough for the whole Burrow to hear.

Instead, he settled for pulling her down harder each time she rose.

Fleur's soft gasps were becoming difficult to disguise. Her movements had lost their subtlety entirely, her hips rolling and grinding and bouncing with increasing abandon, her hungry cunt devouring his cock over and over again.

"I think she's close," Ginny whispered gleefully against his ear. "I think the married slut is about to cum on your cock right in front of everyone."

Hermione's hand found his other arm, squeezing tight. "Make her cum, Harry. I want to watch."

As if he had a choice. As if he had any control whatsoever over this situation.

Fleur's rhythm stuttered. Her cunt clenched hard around his shaft, her whole body trembling. A low moan escaped her lips, barely audible, and Harry felt her inner walls begin to pulse with the onset of her orgasm.

But it was too much, too fast.

His balls were aching, pressure building at the base of his spine, his cock throbbing desperately inside her married pussy. He was about to cum. He was about to fill Bill's wife with his seed right here in the middle of the Burrow's living room.

"Fleur," he breathed, a warning.

She ignored him. Her hips slammed down one final time, taking him as deep as he could go, her cunt clenching around him.

"I am going to—" she gasped.

And that was all Harry could take.

His control shattered. His cock erupted inside her, pumping rope after rope of hot cum directly into her married womb. Fleur's orgasm hit at the same moment, her pussy spasming around him, milking his shaft as she came hard and silent on his cock. Her whole body shook with the force of it, her perfect cunt squeezing every last drop from his pulsing shaft.

I'm cumming inside her. Filling her married pussy with my seed. Bill's right there and I'm breeding his wife.

The pleasure was blinding. Wave after wave of release crashed through him, his balls emptying themselves into Fleur's hungry cunt, his grip on her hips bruising-tight as he pumped her full.

Fleur's head fell back against his shoulder, her silver-blonde hair spilling across his chest, and the softest moan of satisfaction escaped her lips.

"Fleur, dear?"

Bill's voice.

Harry's heart seized.

Fuck. We're caught. He heard her. He's going to turn around and see his wife impaled on my cock with my cum dripping out of her.

Bill was rising from his chair, concern creasing his scarred face, and Harry could only sit there frozen with his cock still buried hard in Fleur's pussy, his seed still leaking from her well-fucked cunt, absolutely no explanation in the world sufficient for what Bill was about to discover.

"Is everything alright? You sound—"

"Oui!"

Fleur's voice rang out clear and bright, cutting Bill off before he could finish his sentence. She straightened in Harry's lap, her composure returned, her expression one of radiant happiness as she turned to face her husband.

"Oui, everything is perfect."

Bill paused, still looking concerned. "Are you sure? You looked a bit—"

"I 'ave some news." Fleur's hand drifted to her stomach, her fingers splaying across the flat plane of her belly, and her smile turned radiant. "I was going to wait until dinner, but I cannot keep it inside any longer."

The room had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at her now, conversations abandoned.

Harry's cock was still inside her.

"I am going to become a mozzer," Fleur announced, her voice breaking with apparent emotion. "We are going to 'ave a baby."

The room erupted.

Molly burst into tears of joy. Arthur leapt to his feet to shake Bill's hand. The twins whooped and hollered. Gabrielle clasped her hands together with a theatrical gasp of delight. Apolline rose gracefully to embrace her daughter, and as she passed the sofa, her eyes met Harry's with knowing amusement.

Bill was across the room in three strides, pulling Fleur up from Harry's lap and into his arms, spinning her around with unabashed joy.

Harry sat there, his cock flopping free as Fleur was lifted away, glistening with their combined juices, still twitching with aftershocks. He stared at the chaos unfolding around him, at the joyful faces and tearful embraces, at Fleur being passed from family member to family member like a trophy.

She's going to become a mother.

I just came inside her.

She's going to...

Then Ginny slid off the sofa and sank down between his knees. In all the commotion not one of them was looking Harry's way, and she wrapped her lips around his glistening cock and swallowed him to the root. Whether she meant to hide the evidence from view or simply wanted a taste of Fleur off his shaft, Harry honestly couldn't tell. Her tongue dragged along his length, cleaning their combined juices from every inch, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, and he had to clamp down on a groan as the family wept and cheered and embraced all around them.

"Told you," Hermione whispered on his other side, her voice barely audible beneath the celebration. "Revenge is sweet."

Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).