The wind at this altitude was a violent, living thing that bit at the exposed skin of her neck. Harry sat behind her on the broom, his thighs pressing firmly against her hips as they hovered above the pitch. The darkness of the night made the grass below look like a deep, velvet bruise, but the sky felt infinitely large and hollow. Harry had told her to meet him here, and he had arrived with a reckless sort of grin that suggested he had no intention of staying on the ground. The broom wobbled slightly under their combined weight, a precarious sensation that made her stomach flip.
"Hold on to me," Harry said, his voice barely audible over the rush of the air. "The wind is picking up."
"I am perfectly capable of staying upright," she replied, though her fingers gripped the handle of the broom until her knuckles turned white. She felt his hands slide around her waist, his palms warm even through the heavy fabric of her robes. The altitude made the air feel thin and sharp, a sensation that seemed to sharpen the tension between them as well.
He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back, and she could feel the heat of him radiating through her layers. The broom gave a sudden, lurching tilt as a gust hit them, forcing her to arch her back. She had nowhere to put her hands; the broom required both of hers to keep them steady, leaving her arms feeling useless and vulnerable. The movement of the broom was erratic, a series heavy, rhythmic sway that felt entirely too intentional.
"You're shaking," Harry noted, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.
"The wind is cold, you idiot," she snapped, though the lie was thin.
He shifted his weight, and the friction of his trousers against her backside sent a jolt of heat straight to her pelvis. The broom rose higher, climbing toward the clouds until the pitch below was nothing but a dark smudge. The height was dizzying, a constant pull of gravity that felt like it was trying to strip her bare. She felt his hands move from her waist to the underside of her breasts, his fingers squeezing the mounds through her robes.
"Is this the part where you pretend to be annoyed?" Harry asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"I am annoyed," she whispered, even as she tilted her head back to give him better access to her throat. "The wind is making it impossible to think."
He didn't respond with words; instead, he unfastened the front of her robes with practiced, nimble fingers. The cold air hit her skin, making her nipples harden instantly into tight, sensitive peaks. She felt the sudden, sharp sensation of his tongue licks against the curve of her shoulder, a stark contrast to the biting wind. He moved his hand lower, sliding it beneath the hem of her skirt to find the lace of her knickers.
"Harry, the wind is going to knock us off," she gasped, but she was already arching her hips back into his touch.
"Let it," he muttered, his hand sliding between her thighs.
He found the wetness through the thin silk of her knickers, his fingers tracing the swell of her pussy. The sensation was electric, a concentrated point of heat in the middle of the freezing night. She felt his cock pressing hard against her buttocks, a thick, rigid length that seemed to grow with every breath she took. He reached for the fastening of his own trousers, his movements frantic despite the swaying of the broom.
"I need you to hold the broom," he commanded, his voice thick with a sudden, desperate hunger. "Because I'm not waiting for the ground."
He pulled her hips back, and she felt the blunt, heavy head of his cock as he pushed his trousers down. He guided himself to her opening, the tip of his cock slicking the entrance of her cunt. She gripped the broom handle so hard her wrists ached, her eyes fixed on the distant, dark horizon. He pushed forward, his cock sliding into her pussy in one long, heavy thrust. She let out a sharp, strangled cry that was swallowed by the wind.
"Fuck," he groaned, the sound low and guttural.
He began to fuck her with a rhythmic, punishing force, the broom bucking beneath them as he drove himself deep inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, a brutal, wonderful fullness that made her vision blur. He reached around to grab her hands, pulling them away from the broom so he could pin them against his chest, but the broom swayed dangerously with every shove of his hips. He was fucking her hard, his cock hitting her cervix with a precision that made her entire body quiver.
"Don't stop," she breathed, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Don't you dare stop."
He thrust harder, his cock sliding in and out of her dripping cunt with a wet, slapping sound that felt far too loud in the vastness of the night. She felt the friction of his skin against her, the heat of his pubic bone clashing with her own. He was moving with a frantic, desperate energy, his breath coming in ragged gasps against her neck. The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn't care about the cold anymore; there was only the sensation of him filling her, of his thick, hard cock stretching her walls.
"You feel so tight," Harry hissed, his voice a jagged-edged thing.
He pulled back until he was almost entirely out of her, then slammed himself back inside, the force of the movement making the broom lurch upward. She felt the tip of his cock grinding against the sensitive knot of her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure through her. He was fucking her with a singular, driving purpose, his hips moving in a blur of motion. She could feel the tension building in her own body, a coil of heat that was about to snap.
"Harry, please," she moaned, her eyes closing tight.
He didn't slow down; he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter and more violent. The friction of his cock inside her was intense, a searing heat that seemed to burn through the cold air. She felt the first squeeze of her orgasm, her pussy clenching around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. He felt it too, his body tensing as he drove his cock into her one last, deep time.
"I'm coming," she gasped, her voice breaking.
He groaned her name, a raw, unrefined sound, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He thrust one last time, his cock pulsing inside her as he came, the hot, thick spurt of his cum filling her womb. She felt the warmth of his seed spreading through her, a heavy, liquid sensation that made her feel completely undone. The broom drifted aimlessly in the dark, caught in a slow, dazed rotation as they both struggled to find their breath. She was exhausted, breathless, and entirely furious that it worked.