Dances With Twinks

Justin Finch-Fletchley was in a state of pure terror. He could be expelled! He had only just recently escaped punishment when Filch found him in the Charms classroom beating his peen into the sultry cushions of Professor Flitwick’s desk chair. The man guarding them had seemed utterly serious (and if Justin wanted to think more about it- utterly sexy) and was probably in the process of telling Dumbledore about his evening excursion out of the castle.



He cursed his stupidity. Rather than go to the peep hole in the prefect’s bathroom wall, Justin had opted to get his sick faggot thrills from watching the multitude of people milling about the grounds in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. He had crept closer and closer into the obviously off-limits area until he had stopped and spotted the brawny dragon tender leaning against the enclosure. In his haste to remove his throbbing piece from his school trousers he had evidently made enough noise to alert the other man to his presence.

So now, instead of feeling the relief of his juvenile seed spilling out onto the hard earth beneath him, he was struggling to control his anxiety as he thought of what his impending bathroom meeting with the older wizard would bring.



He had nearly two hours before his meeting with doom, and rather than spend it pent up in the Hufflepuff common room, he decided his time would be much better used relieving his aching member in the Quidditch locker room. He had travelled the path to the taboo locker rooms many times, both in his day-to-day activities as well as in his most foul of dreams, so it took him no time whatsoever to get there. Bursting into the locker-room, he came face to face with the brawny dragon tender, cock in hand!



The two stared at each other for a full five seconds. Then Justin realized it wasn’t actually the dragon-tender, but rather Ron Weasley. The two looked remarkably similar….



“Nice cock, mate,” Justin said, attempting to change the awkward moment into one of male camaraderie.



An incredulous look broke across the redhead’s face. Calmly removing his hand from his quickly deflating unit he strode purposefully towards the showers. Justin followed at a slow prance and chose the shower next to the burly Weasley. Thinking things were going at least well enough to merit a sort of group j/o session, Justin was shocked when Ron’s furious face appeared above the divider between their two stalls.



“Look, we can’t pretend this whole thing didn’t happen if you keep following me around acting like a Backstreet Boy in heat,” Ron hissed.



“I just wanted to have a bit of fun!” Justin stuttered, his face turning red as he realized the red-head probably wasn’t into cock-play with other gentlemen. He fought on valiantly anyways; convinced there could be some possibility of an illicit tryst if he could just convince Ron of the necessity of their union. “Come on, man, we’re both obviously needing a helping hand. Let me stroke your hard fuck pole to completion.”



“You sick pervert!” Ron screamed. He climbed to the top of the stalls and proceeded to whip out his penis and urinate in the shower Justin was occupying, thinking this would humiliate and detract the other boy from proceeding with his wicked homosexual intentions. He was mistaken, however.



Justin assumed a submissive position on his knees with his head bowed and arms extended, enjoying the warm yellow stream of Ron’s piss. Seeing that he was out of options of ways to enjoy a normal shower and masturbation session, Ron took off towards the door at a dead spring, desperate to get away from the pee-covered youth.



Rejected, Justin slowly dragged his feet out of the shower section towards the lobby of the locker room. As he raised his urine-soaked head, he noticed a portrait of the Gryffindor Quidditch team from a few years before he came to Hogwarts, featuring the burly Ron Weasley-look alike dragon tender.



“Charlie,” Justin whispered longingly at the magical photograph, noticing that in the picture Charlie was wearing a stomach-baring Quidditch jersey and twirling his luxurious red-locks between his fingers.



Anxious for what he now realized was a meeting with destiny, Justin took off towards the fifth-floor men’s room.