Rubbing One Out

Author's Note:

Timeframe: OotP
Warnings: This fic contains graphic, violent, non-consensual sexual situations involving people under 18. IOW Harry gets gang raped nasty. (Why do I love Harry so much I have to do this to him?)
Pairings: Harry/Draco/Blaise/Crabbe/Goyle

I *so* appreciate reviews. I like to know people are enjoying this crazy shit! Now, on with it!

*1*

Harry Potter was having really a very good day, despite the driving, freezing rains. The long-anticipated Quidditch game had ended with Gryffindor flattening the opposition, Hufflepuff, 190 to 30. They were now favorites for the Quidditch cup, if of course they managed to beat Slytherin, and at the moment the Gryffindors were quite certain they could do so. The jubilant Quidditch team were cheering in the locker rooms, muddy and drenched scarlet robes strewn on the floor. They were showering hastily, talking loudly over running water about the finer points of their incredible victory.


In the far stall, Harry unlike his team mates was taking his time. He wanted to savor the moment quietly, feeling the hot water warming his chilled skin. He had been soaked to the bone and shivering on his Firebolt for the past half an hour. Harry was contented to listen to the others, basking in the high he could only get from a good game of Quiddditch.


"Hey Harry, what's taking so long?" Ron inquired over the sounds of Harry's shower.


"Oh you know," Harry said with difficulty, "mud in places nature never intended. Don't wait for me... it might take a bit."


"Ok," Ron said sounding confused. "Well, hurry up Harry, you know there's going to be a party in the common room," called Ron as he ran out, the last of the team to leave in a big hurry, door slamming loudly behind him, which then echoed in the empty bathroom.


It's the perfect time, Harry thought. He got on his toes and peeked over the partition to his left and then his right. Must be wonderful to be a Prefect, Harry thought somewhat bitterly, as he had many times before. A nice bathroom all to yourself whenever you want one! He ducked his head under the spout and ran his hands through his hair forcefully, ridding it, hopefully, of the last mud caked in it. He realized that although he still felt that it would be preferable to have a private bath, he would be quite safe enough, for at least fifteen minutes. The thought itself had an arousing effect. It hadn't always been that a hot shower was an occasion for a stiff one, but he was becoming increasingly horny as time went on.


Almost involuntarily, Harry wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping it slowly, squeezing it, encouraging himself to become harder. I've got to do it sometime, he thought desperately. It's what it wants, every morning, every single day. Harry leaned his left hand on the tiled wall, positioning himself under the shower head. The water washed over his face as he looked down, watching himself. It's like its got a mind of it's own. Going off in Transfiguration, Quidditch practice-- even Potions, to his unending horror. Harry shook his head violently, sending droplets of water flying, trying to clear his mind of that awful thought, and returned to watching himself stroke himself. It was strange how once he started, he didn't want to stop moving his hand up and down his shaft. He was getting pretty large, he thought in passing. In any case, he could remember not long ago looking down and seeing a third of what he saw now, as he gave himself a particularly hard few pulls, moaning as softly as he dared.


Ginny, he thought vaguely, giving his swelling head an extra tweak. Deciding he needed to speed things up a bit, Harry thought about how her sodden robes clung to her body after the match, feeling her firm breasts against his chest as they embraced. He now imagined that she took her muddy robes off for him, right there on the Quidditch pitch, grabbing her own nipples, moaning: Harry, I need you...


"Yes," Harry grunted unconsciously, shifting his hips rhythmically now, faster into his hand, gripping himself tighter, unable to stop. The drunkenly lustful Ginny in his mind's eye was reaching down between her legs, panting, breasts quivering and wet from the rain; she was moaning achingly, Harry, I need you... Please, Harry!


Now, Harry thought, she's lying there, spread out, right there for the whole school to see, writhing in the mud as if in a heat, gasping. Harry was standing over her, his dick was at its full length, proudly pointing North.


"That's right," Harry said emphatically to himself, now engulfed in clouds of thick steam. He was quite hard, watching his desperate cock blurring in and out of his fist and grunting deeply. His left hand now gripping his balls with a rhythmic massage, Harry was leaning precariously on the wall. Inexplicably, Ginny's supple, freckled body was now ensnared in ropes: her arms and legs were wrapped copiously with a coarse rope tautly tied to stakes deep in the earth, so that she was spread as far as she could be, held fast in her open vulnerability.


Harry gasped at his imaginings, his throbbing penis issuing a small spurt of cum. "No," he moaned helplessly, "Not again." But he couldn't help it, sick as he knew it was, he liked to think of her like this. Harry was standing over Ginny, watching her wide eyed expression of something like lustful terror. He crouched over her, hungrily examining her breasts protruding from a web of tightly knotted rope. He roughly grabbed one firm nipple and squeezed it sharply, hearing her scream through her own wet panties, which had, somehow, ended up stuffed in her mouth as a gag. He went to bite the nipple now, fiercely, as Ginny writhed and screamed beneath him.


The hard cock in Harry's hands was starting to look purple at the crown, but he slowed his pace, raggedly breathing, wanting to savor this image he had of Ginny. She was lying prone for him, slick and hot for him, yes. He put his hand between her thighs and felt the silkiness of her swollen lips. Ginny was pulling against the ropes in protest of being teased. Harry could hear muffled squealing as he was sliding his fingers into her: two into her ginger fur-covered opening, one for her tight asshole. She was aching for him just to thrust his knob deep into her, again and again into her tight, glistening pussy. Yes, that is exactly what she wants--


"Rubbing one out, Potter?" Sneered a most unwelcome voice.