Literature, Smut, and Adult Themes

As promised, we resume in Chapter 7, just after Ron cursed himself and is leaving the pitch.

“Get out of the way, Colin!” said Harry angrily. He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds towards the edge of the forest.

Meanwhile, back on the pitch, the Slytherin team was still roaring in laughter as the Gryffindors marched to the change rooms. Draco was so pleased with the way everything had turned out, and the effect he had had on Potter and his friends.

When they finally got around to practicing, Draco flew up shakily on the new and improved broom; it was nice and smooth, jet black...like Potter’s hair...

It only took a second for Draco to harden; and when he realized that he was erect, again, because of Potter, he was nothing short of venomous. He flew around with impressive speed, trying to forget the cause of his hard on; nothing worked, though, until he was hit in the ribs by a misfired bludger. He spent the rest of the practice moaning about the pain he felt.

After several hours, Flint finally called everyone in and ended the practice. Draco was nothing short of relieved, because he was covered in ... sweat. Gross, smelly, wet, yucky sweat.

All his life, he had been pampered and taken care of; his father had never made Draco run around outside or work for himself. He didn’t have to gather food, or play violent sports. He certainly never dreamed of doing anything too strenuous, and in all his Quidditch practicing at home, he had flown in the cool weather and not worked up a sweat.

Now, he had to face a shower. Luckily, Lucius Malfoy’s patronage of the Slytherin team had gone beyond new brooms: he had redone their changerooms, so that a deep green tile stood where once disgusting porcelain had been. Stalls had been put in, and now everyone could shower in privacy.

Draco was rather ecstatic about the last feature, because he had never seen another boy, guy, man...naked before, and closest he had ever been with another boy was with Potter in the forest, and that had been nothing short of embarrassing.

Stepping into the oversized stall, he quickly disrobed, peeling off the wet clothing with disdain and disgust. Luckily the house elves would be the ones to clean his uniform, so he wouldn’t have to deal with it again until it was clean.

He stood under the shower head, and turned the water on – magically, it was at the precise temperature that Draco desired, and within moments, he was a rich aristocrat again, instead of a proletariat sportsman.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath and relaxed. Before him was darkness...and then, an image came to mind: Potter, in his robes. But wait! Those weren’t Quidditch robes – since when did Quidditch robes come up to the middle of his thighs, or reveal his thin stomach so teasingly...

“Fuck it,” Draco moaned as he grew to full mast. This obsession with Potter had to stop, and he knew that, but for now...why not enjoy the remedy?

He threw his head back and slowly started moving his hands down his body, starting from his slowly broadening shoulders. He slyly ran his hands down his smooth chest, with his right, feeling the outline of his ribs, and with his left, experimentally rubbing one of his nipples (oh, that feels good!, he thought).

I wonder if Potter likes having his nipples massaged...Draco thought in his mind, intensifying the pleasure that had all gone to his groin. He felt down his slim stomach, feeling the whisper of muscles beginning to form, down past his belly button [innie, btw], until he finally grabbed a hold of his throbbing member and pulled.

“Ahhh!” he did his best to suppress the guttural moan that Harry’s image and his own hands evoked, but to no avail; the guy in the next stall had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but kept to himself – Draco could be downright terrifying if crossed.

Draco allowed his other hand to reach down and tickle his balls, causing him to lean forwards on his feet, trying to fuck the invisible cause of his erection. Goddamn, this is hot, he muttered.

His hips continued to rock, and he soon began letting out a constant string of little moans and gasps. Opening his eyes and looking down, he saw that his hand was a blur as it reached a super fast tempo, and within a second he came.

Over the summer, he had noticed that he had gone from one tiny little drop of cum to a couple, and then today, he only glanced for a second, but he noticed a little tiny ribbon of white liquid on the shower wall in front of him.

Glowing in the aftermath of his climax, he sunk his head and closed his eyes and allowed the water to wash away the signs of his activity. He knew he would have to stop Potter having such an influence over him; the only problem was, he just didn’t know how.

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