A/N: I was going to put in a whole bunch of stuff regarding the aftermath, with Harry leaving and Dudley asking to go with him. Meh, I thought this would be a better ending point. Short, but I'm satisfied with it.

Again, please forgive any errors I might have missed, since this is un-beta-ed.

Chapter 5

It was different this time.

Before, there had been an urgency between them, when they'd kissed in Dudley's room. Harry had gone back to his room with the clear sense of willingly doing something dangerous. Not so this time.

This time the need between them made the danger evident. There was no sense of it, as if it was unseen, undefined. It was there, present in every touch of Dudley's hands on Harry's feverish skin, in every whimper and moan, in every second wherein the kiss grew in depth and strength and intensity. In the moment Harry looked the danger in the eye, recognized it and accepted it, he knew that it wasn't just in the darkness of his room or Dudley's that it could flourish. It was a darkness of spirit, of mind, of soul. Odd that the darkness in his cousin and in himself could give birth to this bright, fragile, translucent thing.

It might be wrong. But for them it was right.

Harry didn't fight it, though he was terrified. Dudley seemed to know the way, what to do, and he let himself be led. His shirt came off. Slowly. A question. He gave no protest and Dudley breathed again, placing his large hands reverently on Harry's bare arms. Apologetically.

Dudley allowed his vest to be removed. Harry studied the way the fat had hardened, the way muscles were faintly visible, altering the topography of Dudley's torso into hills and valleys. There was a long scar slanted across his cousin's smooth chest that Harry didn't think Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon knew about. He touched it. Touched his cousin.

An embrace. Harry's dark head on Dudley's broad shoulder, strong arms holding his thin back. Their hearts vibrated beats between them and there was love. A brother found.

Harry was led to the bed. He sat and saw what else Dudley had in his pocket at last. He didn't know what it was, but at seeing the clear gel squirted into a broad palm, he understood its meaning. Its purpose was vaguely grasped.

Dudley took off his pants. Harry felt shame sting his cheeks but he didn't look away from the offering of his cousin's body. He watched as the gel coated Dudley's thick penis, applied with one hand. The danger was closer now, but Harry didn't waver. He stood and dropped his jeans. He was nude, as his cousin was, and Dudley handed him the tube of gel-like substance.

It was cool on his skin. Then it was warm. Touching themselves in front of each other created a bond, some kind of bond that wouldn't be broken. Whatever else happened, they would always have this, what they'd done, what they were about to do. Dudley stopped stroking.

So did Harry. He was unsure of what to do. If it had been Ginny…but it wasn't. He had an idea of how things went with boys, but he didn't precisely know what came next.

Dudley came to him, placed his wet hand behind his neck and kissed him. It was long and slow. They sank to the mattress, tongues and fingers entwined. Their erections stood stiffly against each other. Dudley rolled his hips against Harry's groin and the sticky sliding of one length against another made Harry gasp, breaking the kiss. His head tilted back on the pillow as he breathed in shallow pants. Dudley humped him again and again, watching his face, watching it redden as Harry's climax built. A series of soft sounds left Harry as he came against Dudley's pelvis. It was warm. It was embarrassing, further strengthening the bond begun with masturbation.

While Harry lay recovering, Dudley kissed his long, lean throat, his narrow shoulder, his chest and stomach. He ran thick hands over Harry's limp arms and legs, kissed his scabbed elbows, the bruises he found on knees and shins. He nuzzled the dark thatch of pubic hair, inhaling Harry's musky smell. He touched Harry's feet, his thighs, his hands. He went back to his face and ran a large finger down Harry's nose, over his eyelids, traced his eyebrows. Learning him, the real Harry.

Harry was made to turn over. He'd never felt so at ease, so comfortable in the presence of another. Here was baring his soul as he'd never done. Here was acceptance as he'd never received. Here was truth. Sometimes truth was dark, and sometimes it was shunned. Not all truths were true for everyone, but for him and Dudley, this was their truth.

He didn't know it for Dudley's tongue when he first felt it. It was just something wet. When understanding came, he gasped, arched, but Dudley's hand on his back kept him still.

Closer still, the danger. But it was the truth, their own dark truth.

Harry closed his eyes as Dudley tasted him between his lower cheeks, the better to feel, to know. He'd never guessed another could touch him like this. His entire body sizzled with embarrassment, yet his penis grew hard again. The licks and sucks were soft. Hesitant. Questioning. Harry kept his hands by his head on the pillow, gripping tightly. A sigh escaped him.

He heard the gel again just before he felt Dudley's hand where his tongue had been. Probing. A finger, thick and hard, entered him and withdrew. Entered again. It was painful, this imitation of the final danger. "Dudley," Harry gasped.

The finger stopped moving. Then it was joined by a second and Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out. Dudley rubbed his flank, his lower back, soothing him, helping him relax. Harry's breathing evened out as his muscles loosened under the slow massage. Sweat stood out on his body.

Dudley covered Harry's body with his own, his brawny chest on Harry's back. His face fit in the hollow behind Harry's neck and his shoulder, his big hands coming up to lace with Harry's on the pillow. Lower, Harry felt Dudley's penis, leaking fluid, settle at the entrance so recently loosened for this act. He waited.

Dudley was big everywhere, in every way. He pressed forward against the ring of muscles and here the danger was at last. Harry panted, riding the waves of pleasure and pain as his cousin solidified their bond, cementing the fragile thing until it was fragile no more.

A final thrust and the union was complete. Pain shot up Harry's back, down his legs. "Bleeding hell, Dudley," he said weakly.

"I'm sorry," Dudley whispered.

It seemed like they'd been doing it forever. No beginning or end. The thrusts were hard, but slow, with Dudley's hands gripping Harry's the entire time. The blonde kept his face in Harry's neck as they each breathed and stopped breathing alike.

It was delicious, the way Dudley's body undulated on him and in him. Magnificent, the power in his large cousin as he emptied within Harry, only to keep thrusting, keep giving. There was nothing wrong, only right. Nothing dark. Harry was swept up in all his cousin had to offer, and he came several times beneath the laboring body above him.

Sometimes they rested. Dudley would kiss his hair, his shoulder, the fingers he clutched. Humbled, Harry would smile and whisper his name. Then they would begin again and it would be better than the last time.

They got turned around, so that Harry was on his back, gazing up at Dudley's shadowed blue eyes. His legs were wound around the solid hips as they pumped and pumped and pumped into Harry tirelessly. Sweat dripped from Dudley to Harry. And then they were kissing as they were joining. Warmth gushed deep inside Harry as Dudley came again.

Harry dozed. He woke on his side, Dudley thrusting from behind, one arm around his middle. Dudley nibbled the skin behind Harry's shoulder as he felt him wake up. "Stop?" the blonde asked.

"Never."

"Harry, I love you."

"I don't want this night to end, Dudley." And then Harry was coming again.

Sometimes, Dudley only held Harry, joined to him but still. They would kiss until they were breathless, stop, then kiss again. Mouths, chins and cheeks would be visited by lips. Whispers against eyelashes closed in surrender.

Sometimes Dudley would be fierce in his thrusts, holding Harry's body in his arms as he jarred him roughly with his hips. Harry would make no sound, only hold to his cousin desperately, biting the meaty shoulder when he came or at a particularly brutal thrust.

Dudley didn't mind the scratches left on him, the pulling on his hair, the way Harry shoved against him sometimes when a thrust was too deep. He took it and gave of himself to Harry, more and more.

***

Hedwig watched how the bodies, her master's and the other one, twined and writhed in rapture, in ecstasy, in pain and pleasure. Harry's leg rested on Dudley's shoulder as the wizard was turned to his back again. Faint wet sounds, moist sounds, issued from the place they were joined as Dudley moved in and out of Harry's shivering body.

She fluffed her feathers, settling down to sleep as dawn approached and her master mated endlessly with the large blonde boy.