Harry James potter smuts

Roughed up

A disgruntled, painful groan escaped the Gryffindor boy underneath you as your hands applied pressure to a rather tense area on his back. He took a sharp inhale at the feeling of your wondrous hands rubbing his sore, battered muscles, only to let that same breath out once your hands moved on to the lesser problem areas.
"I'm sorry, Harry." You apologized for causing him discomfort.
"Not your fault. It feels good and bad at the same time." He replied, his voice strained and slightly muffled in the pillow below his head.
If someone had told you that you'd be spending your Friday night massaging achy knots out of your boyfriend's back, you probably would have laughed in their face. It was rare for both you and Harry to spend your pre-weekend evening in your dorm. You almost always found something to occupy your time on a more productive day. However, tonight would have to be an exception.
Harry had taken a nasty fall off of his broom earlier in the day during Quidditch, and while you hadn't been around to see it, you had been told it wasn't a pretty landing when he hit the ground. Thankfully, his injuries didn't extend much past a few scrapes and bruises, but he had landed flat on his back, which seemed to take most of the impact. Madam Pomfrey had looked him twice over to make sure he wasn't seriously hurt, checking for anything from broken bones to internal bleeding. Pomfrey had tried to heal him up with magic, but Harry had denied it since Pomfrey's healing methods sometimes hurt worse than the actual injury. When she gave him the clear to leave, he came straight to you. He knew it had to have been a pathetic sight the way he hobbled to your dorm, barely able to hold himself upright from all the lingering pain in his core radiating to his back.
Based on the way he had greeted you though, you wouldn't have even guessed that he was uncomfortable. His grin was blinding as he entered, mainly because he knew he was going to milk this as much as he could to get a little extra tender, loving care from his favorite girl. You had helped him out of his robes, wincing when you saw the multiple large bruises scattered across his body that had already begun to purple. Even his legs had taken some damage when you had helped him shimmy out of his pants. You left him in just his boxers, helping him into your bed and ordering him to lay on his stomach to avoid aggravating his back further.
You had hoped that maybe he'd begin to feel better after lying down for a bit, but after an hour he was still struggling to get comfortable. You took it upon yourself to straddle his back, lathering your favorite lotion onto your hands to provide him some relief. Your hands trailed, kneaded, and rubbed in all the places that hurt him the most. His noises were comical, sometimes coming out as a pitchy whine and others as a low rumble. He was beat, literally and metaphorically.
"And just how did you fall off again?" You asked for clarification.
Harry was very skilled on a broom, and it wasn't everyday that he fell off.
"One of the bludgers blindsided me. I never saw it coming," He explained, "Well, I did when it hit me."
You chuckled at his joke, letting your thumbs work at the muscles in his shoulders. The room smelled of Eucalyptus and lavender from your lotion that you had rubbed into his skin, two smells that Harry loved endlessly. You didn't know this, but sometimes Harry would put a bit of your lotion onto his wrist so he could smell like you. It reminded him of you when you weren't around. The feeling of your hands attempting to rid him of his irritation was heavenly. Despite his pain, he was happy as could be.
"Pomfrey didn't find anything wrong?" You questioned.
Harry shook his head.
"Nope. She just said I'd be sore tomorrow, more than I am now." He replied, already dreading how he'd feel in the morning.
Your hand movements slowed to more of a caress, your fingers and palms beginning to cramp from all the rubbing.
"I'm sorry, my love. I'm glad you're okay." You spoke gently.
Harry went to turn, prompting you to raise your hips to allow him to flip over completely. He carefully sank onto his back, sighing at the new support that your mattress was giving him. He put his rounded glasses back on, smirking at being able to see you much clearer now.
"I'm the one who should be sorry. I bet you didn't count on your Friday night being spent like this." He remarked.
You shrugged, leaning down to leave a sweet peck on his lips.
"I don't mind a night to ourselves," You hushed out, your lips just brushing over his; "Just you and me with nothing to do sounds awfully enticing."
Harry hummed in content and agreement. Harry was obviously extremely popular at Hogwarts, and sometimes it was hard for him to find time to be alone with you. He was always being needed for something, and sometimes he wished he could just have peace and quiet for a while. It seemed now that his wish might be coming true.
"Oh, darling, there's nothing in the world I'd rather be doing than being here with you," Harry mewled, "My pretty girl..."
His hands trailed away from the tops of your thighs, snaking underneath your skirt and resting on your hips. His fingertips wrapped around the sides of your knickers, his grin spreading wider when he felt the lacy material. He looked up at you expectantly as he tugged at the sides of your panties.
"No, Harry. You're hurt, baby." You reminded him, refusing his advances.
His eyes widened and he gave a sympathetic pout, jutting his lower lip out in protest.
"I'm not hurt! I'm just sore!" He argued.
"Harry, you fell OFF of your broom. Look how roughed up you are." You said, pointing to one particularly nasty looking bruise just below his ribs.
"I'm feeling better...honestly." He claimed, but avoided eye contact with you.
You knew he was lying, a devious sneer appearing on your face as you rolled your hips forward, jostling his body in a way that sent a wave of sharp pain through him. He yelped at the less than pleasant sensation, not even trying to play it off.
"That's what I thought." You answered, carefully moving off of him and the bed.
Harry scrambled up when he realized you were getting up, his arm wrapping around his core instinctively when he agitated it from moving so quickly.
"Where are you going? Please, don't leave." He blubbered, struggling to stay up on his knees that were sunken into the mattress.
You laughed lightly, looking at him with a warm smile on your features.
"I'm just going to my desk. You need to rest." You told him, motioning towards your workspace on the other side of the room.
"But baby," He whimpered, "I'm hurt. Come lay with me. Please?" He requested, holding his arms out to you.
"I thought you were 'feeling better'?" You chided, putting your hands on your hips.
He groaned, throwing his head back in distaste.
"[Y/N], please come here," He asked again, "Pretty please?"
You laughed again at the sight of him so needy for just even an ounce of attention. He was always so clingy behind closed doors, one of the many things that you liked about him that you kept private. His flushed cheeks and ruffled hair was honestly an adorable sight. You couldn't help but give in.
"Okay, I'm coming." You alerted him.
Harry's eyes brightened in victory, yanking back the covers and making room for you to snuggle in bed with him. You were careful not to press yourself against him too hard, but he didn't seem too concerned. He peppered you with kisses, all over your face and neck. He was so excited to just be with you that he could hardly contain himself. You giggled under his touch, squirming when he kissed and sucked on areas that were your sweet spots. He thrived off of your joyful noises and being in your presence. It always made him so happy when you were happy. His attack of affection paused when he pulled away to look at you, your smile fading into a worried frown when you thought he might've hurt himself more.
"Are you okay?" You asked.
In reality, he just wanted to look at you. He wanted to study your eyes and hair and all the things that he loved so dearly. He saw his future every time he looked at you. He saw his purpose for living when he looked into your eyes. He saw his life with you. He wanted to spend every moment of every day with you and no one else.
Because you were his forever.
"Yeah. I'm absolutely perfect."