He slowly removed his hand. The man’s breath tickled his face. Harry caught the strong shoulders wrapped in the fabric of his robes. He was aware it was about to happen mere moments before soft lips pressed against his own. A shiver ran through his body: it seemed to spread to every organ, warming them. Something fluttering awoke in his chest and rushed somewhere upwards: Harry felt his own breath trying desperately to escape his lungs. He fell back, Voldemort covering his body — Harry suddenly felt not naked and vulnerable, but protected from the rest of the world. A wet tongue slid into his mouth, and it definitely wasn’t a human tongue, but Harry somehow let that fact slide — or he suddenly didn’t care. He was aroused: excitement slowly filling him to the brim, hardening his cock and blurring his thoughts. He gripped Voldemort’s shoulders, shuffling beneath him, slowly grinding against his cloak — why was this happening to him? Where was this feeling coming from?