Washed Down the Drain
Title: Washed Down the Drain
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut/General
Length: 2767
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry wants two things: Malfoy's attention and to know what he's doing in the Room of Requirement. He gets the one, in an unexpected way.
Note: Written for serpentinelion's Secrets and Wishes fest in response to part of fujimiou's request: Set in Hogwarts. Quidditch Showers. Harry & Draco end up measuring their erections against each other's to see who has the bigger cock. Some fighting, frottage, UST.
A large thank you goes to my beta sesheta_66.
There was something absolutely thrilling about being able to piss off Draco Malfoy so much that he leapt from the stands, ran across the field, and jumped on top of Harry, fists flying, even before Harry had been able to throw a leg over his broom.
Maybe it was the fact that he kept running (accidentally, of course) headlong into Malfoy's girlfriend, who was standing in for their sick seeker. Maybe it was just that Malfoy was frustrated about whatever he was doing in the Room of Requirement and needed an outlet. Either way, Harry smiled when Malfoy got a really good punch in that smashed across his left cheek.
It was satisfying. Not the pain. Harry wasn't a masochist. But he had finally, finally been able to capture Malfoy's attention. Albeit, it was a painful type of attention, but attention nevertheless.
"I fucking hate you," Malfoy growled. Or maybe Harry growled it. He wasn't sure. He was otherwise occupied with trying to buck Malfoy off, and give him back what he gave because, honestly, couldn't Malfoy have been fair and waited until the broomstick was removed from between his legs before attacking?
What was he saying? Malfoy was a Slytherin. Fair wasn't in their vocabulary.
Hands grabbed his hair roughly, yanking it into the muddy ground so that Harry arched his body, pressing against Malfoy and hissing.
Malfoy leaned in close, hair falling out of its gelled hold to dangle in front of stormy grey eyes, and growled, "You're on my last nerve, Potter."
"Shouldn't be taking your anger out on unsuspecting, innocent victims," Harry stressed, and then winced at a particularly harsh tug.
"Innocent my arse."
Malfoy's knee wedged between his legs, and Harry's mouth gaped as he tried to ignore the sensations of being rubbed. What was Malfoy do--oh bloody fuck!
Harry groaned and curled onto his side as best as he could with another body on top of him. Malfoy was chortling, and his knee was still pressed against Harry's throbbing cock.
"Shit, I think you just pushed in into my stomach," Harry wheezed, sending Malfoy off in peels of laughter.
"Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy!" a stern voice shouted, and muddy black shoes were in his vision, but he hurt way too much to bother looking up. He already knew who was talking, anyway. "What appalling sportsmanship!" Madam Hooch yelled. She reached down, grabbed Malfoy's hood and pulled him up. Harry curled up into a ball in relief.
"It's not sportsmanship," Malfoy said. Madam Hooch nodded and opened her mouth, but Malfoy continued. "I'm not a player."
"Exactly!" Hooch yelled. The other players were huddled around the nearest goal posts, watching in interest. Harry noticed a few teachers were exiting the stands and making their way over. "Why in the world did you rush out onto the field, when a game was commencing?!"
"Potter annoyed me," he answered stiffly, arms crossing over his chest. He glanced down at Harry, still curled on the grass, and smirked. Harry was starting to wish he hadn't provoked Malfoy into attacking. But, really, he hadn't done much. Was it his fault Malfoy had no self-restraint?
Apparently, because, god, it still hurt! This must be his payback for laughing at that first year kicking Seamus in the nuts. Karma, Dean would say.
"I can't handle this!" She threw her arms in the air, thereby releasing her grip on Malfoy, whose eyes flickered down to Harry, but he didn't move.
Harry flipped him a shaky finger and suddenly Malfoy was on top of him again.
"Repellere diremi!"
He landed hard a good meter from where he had been. Now his arse hurt along with his groin. Life really sucked some days.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin each," McGonagall said, voice as tense as a bowstring, not that Harry had ever played with a bow. Dudley had one once, but he was too weak to operate it, so he just whacked Harry with it. Very painful. However, not as much as being kicked down below.
"And a week's worth of detention. Potter, your captain's rights will be taken away --"
"What!"
Malfoy laughed.
"--temporarily. But if I don't see responsible behaviour from you, don't expect it back. Mr Weasley can have it for now."
Harry harrumphed and wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing them close to his body and hoping it would ease the pain -- would it ever go away? -- but it only did slightly.
Madam Hooch pressed long fingers to her temple. "Go to the showers and clean up," she ordered wearily. Harry was very grateful to, except that he was afraid to move.
"You heard her, Potter," barked McGonagall.
"I can't move," Harry explained, cupping his cock.
McGonagall shared an exasperated look with Madam Hooch then squeezed her eyes shut. "Malfoy, help him to the showers since it's your fault he can't move."
They groaned simultaneously.
"Would you just get off the field so the game can continue?" Madam Hooch yelled, pointing to the changing rooms.
"But Gryffindor hasn't a seeker now!" Harry protested.
Both of the professors glared at him. Sourly, Harry stood and wobbled away, waving his hand at Ron's questioning look. Malfoy didn't stop laughing the whole way, but Harry was pacified that his groin was aching softly now.
By the time they reached the changing room, it was a dull throb, so little that he barely noticed it. Malfoy's laughter had dwindled down to huffs of annoyance and he kept picking mud off himself. It didn't help that the changing room was in full view of the Quidditch pitch, so anyone who cared to make sure they were doing as told would see.
"This is all your bleeding fault," Malfoy grumbled the moment the door swung shut behind them. He yanked his robes and shirt off, tossing them carelessly to the side, flinging a bit of mud into Harry's face. "I've better things to do."
Harry stared at him, organizing his thoughts. How could he breach the Room of Requirement topic without seeming obvious? But then Malfoy slipped out of his trousers, standing clad in a pair of the oddest pants Harry had ever seen and he forgot what he was trying to think about. "What are those?"
"What?" Malfoy whirled around then followed Harry's gaze to his pants. He fingered the band of the silky green garment. It was skin-tight and reached the top of his knees, nothing at all like Harry's hilariously large (he didn't want to go underwear shopping, after all) off-white briefs.
"These are pants, Potter." He raised one pale eyebrow. "You do wear them, don't you?"
"Nothing like those," Harry choked, completely enraptured by the way the smooth material accentuated Malfoy's every move. His own pants seem to tighten in recognition, as if they too wanted to be skin-tight and odd looking. "I wear normal stuff."
"Muggle?" scoffed Malfoy.
Harry shrugged. His mouth was unusually dry. And Malfoy kept shifting.
Malfoy turned, hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and pulled down. Harry was left staring at his bare arse. It was round, firm, and pale. For some reason the idea of Malfoy working out, sweating and flushed was hard to believe, even if the truth was dangerously close. The idea also made his cock throb, and not in pain. He ignored the throb and picked at his dirty shirt, letting the cool mud digging up under his nails distract him.
The water turned on and Harry chanced a look. Malfoy wasn't there. He sighed in relief, sagging against the lockers. He must have been hit harder than he'd thought. Maybe being hit in the nuts made them fluctuate for a while after.
Seven minutes had gone by and Harry was starting to get antsy. Would it be terribly suspicious if he just waited for Malfoy to finish? Was his cock going to behave if he showered? Taking a deep breath and a chance -- he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; jumping into situations he should have otherwise not was pretty much a signature of his -- he stripped and headed into the tiled shower room.
The stream issued from Malfoy's showerhead and that was all Harry looked at. He wasn't wearing his glasses so Malfoy should have been a blur but whoever had designed the showers were gits, because they placed them so close together. He grabbed the shower across from Malfoy and turned the water on, letting it wash all his doubts down the drain. His cock wasn't doing anything but hanging there. It had been just some odd after effect of being kneed.
Cheerfully, Harry soaped his body then stood under the spray, watching the soap pile around his feet.
Malfoy snorted.
Harry turned to look at him. In the wake of his gaze, Malfoy explained, "The rumours are true." He rolled his eyes impatiently. "That you're as thick as a wand and short as a finger. No wonder you're still single, even though you're the boy-who-lived." He smirked and turned back to the water.
Insecurely, Harry glanced down at his flaccid cock. It definitely wasn't as thin as a wand, but he hadn't really thought about it before. Was it small? Surreptitiously, he glanced behind him, craning his head to catch a glimpse of Malfoy.
Malfoy was thicker but he looked about the same length, give or take a few centimetres.
"Yours isn't much bigger."
Malfoy turned to face him slowly, the water cascading down his pale skin, making him glimmer. Harry wanted to lick him.
Oh, gods, the odd thing was happening again. Frantically, Harry looked down and saw his cock wasn't reacting. That was good. How embarrassing that would be. It wasn't as if he could explain that.
Malfoy said, "Want to bet?" There was a dangerous challenge lying underneath his words, but Harry only latched onto the challenge part and nodded confidently, more confidently than he felt. How were they going to measure?
"How? Because, you know, it's not fair, really. I'm bigger when..." He trailed off and gulped. What was he saying? He had to be insane.
Malfoy shrugged and glanced around once before grabbing his cock. A gasp escaped Harry's lips.
"Then we'll play your way. We'll measure our erections. Winner... gets to set their own terms. Got it?"
A fleeting thought, that if he won he could demand to see what Malfoy was getting up to in the Room of Requirement, passed through his mind. It was fleeting but it made him look at Malfoy's left arm. It was pale and wet, like the rest of his body, but there was a shadow. Harry wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if Malfoy had somehow found a way to make the mark fade.
The moment the words, "I got it," left Harry's mouth, Malfoy closed his eyes and slid his hand down his cock. Harry could only stare and try not to moan as Malfoy stroked himself, faster and faster. His head dropped back so that his drenched hair was pasted to his neck and shoulders, more yellow than white from the water. The soft muscles in his body tensed.
His mouth opened in an 'O' shape, and Harry thought Malfoy was going to come, thereby forfeiting the competition. Harry's toes curled against the tile, and not just because he wanted to find out what Malfoy had been up to all year. He wanted to watch the come shoot out of Malfoy's cock and hit the floor, mixing with the water and disappearing down the drain.
He wanted to know what Malfoy would say when he came. Harry always gasped softly. Was Malfoy a screamer, like Dean, who woke the dorm every time, because he always forgot to charm his bed silent? Or was he absolutely silent like Seamus, surprising as he was loud every other time. Ron always moaned long and low. Neville didn't wank, or if he did, he only did it when no one was around. It rather surprised Harry that he knew so much about his dorm mates' wanking habits when he'd never ever seen another boy jerk off. Except for Malfoy.
But he didn't get to find out what sounds Malfoy made when climaxing because he pulled away his hand just in time, eyes opening headily. He smiled distantly, eyeing Harry's cock.
Harry was mildly surprised to find his cock already erect and leaking -- when had that happened? -- but he supposed he wasn't too surprised.
"Measure," Malfoy whispered huskily -- Harry whimpered -- and stroked his cock absently. To keep it erect, Harry told himself, though with every stroke it seemed harder to believe. Each time that hand moved, Harry had the distinct impression that Malfoy was doing it to torture him. But there was no way Malfoy could know he'd gotten hard just from watching him.
Malfoy grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him closer. Harry stumbled and their cocks pressed together, both of them freezing. Harry gasped loudly and Malfoy bit down on his bottom lip.
Their foreheads were almost touching as they looked down at their cocks. The sight overwhelmed Harry. Their hard, red cocks pressed together were nowhere near as arousing as Harry had imagined. Not that he had imagined it until very, very recently.
"I'm bigger," Malfoy murmured in that same husky voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine, making him twitch, and rub slightly against Malfoy.
"You are not," Harry said since they looked the exact same. "Yours just curves more. See." He reached down, wedged a hand between their hot cocks and grabbed his own. "I can wrap eight fingers around mine."
He pumped once before grabbing Malfoy. "I can only wrap seven and a half fingers around yours."
Malfoy was silent, still looking down at their cocks. Harry tightened his fingers a moment, seeing if Malfoy was paying attention, and Malfoy snapped his hips, cock rubbing between Harry's fingers.
Quickly, Harry snatched his hands back and stepped under the water's spray. He had been holding Malfoy's cock!
God, his cock hurt so much. He looked at Malfoy, who was lazily running a finger up and down his cock, and couldn't help it. He pounced, crashing their lips together, hips thrusting against Malfoy's.
Malfoy let out a little cry of surprise, but then he was wiggling his hips in a way that reminded Harry of dancing. If dancing was supposed to be this arousing and naked and wet.
"These are the most fucked up terms ever," Malfoy managed before Harry silenced him with a forceful kiss. That's when he realized, however, that he'd just given up his chance to know what Malfoy was being so mysterious about.
Pathetically, Harry protested, "This isn't my terms. I want to see what you're doing in the Room of Requirement."
Malfoy pulled back, hips still moving, slowly stripping away Harry's sanity, and laughed. Then he shoved Harry against the tiled wall and nipped a searing line down his neck.
Malfoy mumbled into his neck, "Too late. This is your terms now."
Harry growled and bucked against him, intent on gaining control, but it backfired and Malfoy was wiggling his hips again. Blindly, Harry set a tempo with him. He wished the spray of the water were still on them so that he could watch it roll down Malfoy's body, which still looked lickable.
He reached his tongue out and laved Malfoy's shoulder, sucking at the spot then moving up until their tongues were sliding together.
It was much too hot, Malfoy was sucking on his tongue, and their cocks were still rubbing together, movements frantic. His balls were tightening and then Malfoy threw his head back, neck arched sexily. Harry latched onto his Adam's apple, sucking.
"Potter!" Malfoy groaned, hips stalling as his come shot onto their stomachs.
Harry had not expected him to shout his name, but it was so erotic that Harry found himself following shortly after, gasping into Malfoy's neck.
"Well," Malfoy said after a minute, but that was all he said. He moved under the water, washing the come from his stomach and legs. Harry only watched, feeling his cock reacting already to the sight of Malfoy running his hands all over his body.
Malfoy walked to the doorway, raised an eyebrow at Harry over his shoulder in a motion Harry didn't understand, and then exited. Harry slid to the floor, water coating the underside of his legs. He watched Malfoy's come swirl into the drain and grabbed his half-hard cock.
That was really not going to help his Malfoy stalking activities.
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut/General
Length: 2767
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry wants two things: Malfoy's attention and to know what he's doing in the Room of Requirement. He gets the one, in an unexpected way.
Note: Written for serpentinelion's Secrets and Wishes fest in response to part of fujimiou's request: Set in Hogwarts. Quidditch Showers. Harry & Draco end up measuring their erections against each other's to see who has the bigger cock. Some fighting, frottage, UST.
A large thank you goes to my beta sesheta_66.
There was something absolutely thrilling about being able to piss off Draco Malfoy so much that he leapt from the stands, ran across the field, and jumped on top of Harry, fists flying, even before Harry had been able to throw a leg over his broom.
Maybe it was the fact that he kept running (accidentally, of course) headlong into Malfoy's girlfriend, who was standing in for their sick seeker. Maybe it was just that Malfoy was frustrated about whatever he was doing in the Room of Requirement and needed an outlet. Either way, Harry smiled when Malfoy got a really good punch in that smashed across his left cheek.
It was satisfying. Not the pain. Harry wasn't a masochist. But he had finally, finally been able to capture Malfoy's attention. Albeit, it was a painful type of attention, but attention nevertheless.
"I fucking hate you," Malfoy growled. Or maybe Harry growled it. He wasn't sure. He was otherwise occupied with trying to buck Malfoy off, and give him back what he gave because, honestly, couldn't Malfoy have been fair and waited until the broomstick was removed from between his legs before attacking?
What was he saying? Malfoy was a Slytherin. Fair wasn't in their vocabulary.
Hands grabbed his hair roughly, yanking it into the muddy ground so that Harry arched his body, pressing against Malfoy and hissing.
Malfoy leaned in close, hair falling out of its gelled hold to dangle in front of stormy grey eyes, and growled, "You're on my last nerve, Potter."
"Shouldn't be taking your anger out on unsuspecting, innocent victims," Harry stressed, and then winced at a particularly harsh tug.
"Innocent my arse."
Malfoy's knee wedged between his legs, and Harry's mouth gaped as he tried to ignore the sensations of being rubbed. What was Malfoy do--oh bloody fuck!
Harry groaned and curled onto his side as best as he could with another body on top of him. Malfoy was chortling, and his knee was still pressed against Harry's throbbing cock.
"Shit, I think you just pushed in into my stomach," Harry wheezed, sending Malfoy off in peels of laughter.
"Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy!" a stern voice shouted, and muddy black shoes were in his vision, but he hurt way too much to bother looking up. He already knew who was talking, anyway. "What appalling sportsmanship!" Madam Hooch yelled. She reached down, grabbed Malfoy's hood and pulled him up. Harry curled up into a ball in relief.
"It's not sportsmanship," Malfoy said. Madam Hooch nodded and opened her mouth, but Malfoy continued. "I'm not a player."
"Exactly!" Hooch yelled. The other players were huddled around the nearest goal posts, watching in interest. Harry noticed a few teachers were exiting the stands and making their way over. "Why in the world did you rush out onto the field, when a game was commencing?!"
"Potter annoyed me," he answered stiffly, arms crossing over his chest. He glanced down at Harry, still curled on the grass, and smirked. Harry was starting to wish he hadn't provoked Malfoy into attacking. But, really, he hadn't done much. Was it his fault Malfoy had no self-restraint?
Apparently, because, god, it still hurt! This must be his payback for laughing at that first year kicking Seamus in the nuts. Karma, Dean would say.
"I can't handle this!" She threw her arms in the air, thereby releasing her grip on Malfoy, whose eyes flickered down to Harry, but he didn't move.
Harry flipped him a shaky finger and suddenly Malfoy was on top of him again.
"Repellere diremi!"
He landed hard a good meter from where he had been. Now his arse hurt along with his groin. Life really sucked some days.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin each," McGonagall said, voice as tense as a bowstring, not that Harry had ever played with a bow. Dudley had one once, but he was too weak to operate it, so he just whacked Harry with it. Very painful. However, not as much as being kicked down below.
"And a week's worth of detention. Potter, your captain's rights will be taken away --"
"What!"
Malfoy laughed.
"--temporarily. But if I don't see responsible behaviour from you, don't expect it back. Mr Weasley can have it for now."
Harry harrumphed and wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing them close to his body and hoping it would ease the pain -- would it ever go away? -- but it only did slightly.
Madam Hooch pressed long fingers to her temple. "Go to the showers and clean up," she ordered wearily. Harry was very grateful to, except that he was afraid to move.
"You heard her, Potter," barked McGonagall.
"I can't move," Harry explained, cupping his cock.
McGonagall shared an exasperated look with Madam Hooch then squeezed her eyes shut. "Malfoy, help him to the showers since it's your fault he can't move."
They groaned simultaneously.
"Would you just get off the field so the game can continue?" Madam Hooch yelled, pointing to the changing rooms.
"But Gryffindor hasn't a seeker now!" Harry protested.
Both of the professors glared at him. Sourly, Harry stood and wobbled away, waving his hand at Ron's questioning look. Malfoy didn't stop laughing the whole way, but Harry was pacified that his groin was aching softly now.
By the time they reached the changing room, it was a dull throb, so little that he barely noticed it. Malfoy's laughter had dwindled down to huffs of annoyance and he kept picking mud off himself. It didn't help that the changing room was in full view of the Quidditch pitch, so anyone who cared to make sure they were doing as told would see.
"This is all your bleeding fault," Malfoy grumbled the moment the door swung shut behind them. He yanked his robes and shirt off, tossing them carelessly to the side, flinging a bit of mud into Harry's face. "I've better things to do."
Harry stared at him, organizing his thoughts. How could he breach the Room of Requirement topic without seeming obvious? But then Malfoy slipped out of his trousers, standing clad in a pair of the oddest pants Harry had ever seen and he forgot what he was trying to think about. "What are those?"
"What?" Malfoy whirled around then followed Harry's gaze to his pants. He fingered the band of the silky green garment. It was skin-tight and reached the top of his knees, nothing at all like Harry's hilariously large (he didn't want to go underwear shopping, after all) off-white briefs.
"These are pants, Potter." He raised one pale eyebrow. "You do wear them, don't you?"
"Nothing like those," Harry choked, completely enraptured by the way the smooth material accentuated Malfoy's every move. His own pants seem to tighten in recognition, as if they too wanted to be skin-tight and odd looking. "I wear normal stuff."
"Muggle?" scoffed Malfoy.
Harry shrugged. His mouth was unusually dry. And Malfoy kept shifting.
Malfoy turned, hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and pulled down. Harry was left staring at his bare arse. It was round, firm, and pale. For some reason the idea of Malfoy working out, sweating and flushed was hard to believe, even if the truth was dangerously close. The idea also made his cock throb, and not in pain. He ignored the throb and picked at his dirty shirt, letting the cool mud digging up under his nails distract him.
The water turned on and Harry chanced a look. Malfoy wasn't there. He sighed in relief, sagging against the lockers. He must have been hit harder than he'd thought. Maybe being hit in the nuts made them fluctuate for a while after.
Seven minutes had gone by and Harry was starting to get antsy. Would it be terribly suspicious if he just waited for Malfoy to finish? Was his cock going to behave if he showered? Taking a deep breath and a chance -- he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; jumping into situations he should have otherwise not was pretty much a signature of his -- he stripped and headed into the tiled shower room.
The stream issued from Malfoy's showerhead and that was all Harry looked at. He wasn't wearing his glasses so Malfoy should have been a blur but whoever had designed the showers were gits, because they placed them so close together. He grabbed the shower across from Malfoy and turned the water on, letting it wash all his doubts down the drain. His cock wasn't doing anything but hanging there. It had been just some odd after effect of being kneed.
Cheerfully, Harry soaped his body then stood under the spray, watching the soap pile around his feet.
Malfoy snorted.
Harry turned to look at him. In the wake of his gaze, Malfoy explained, "The rumours are true." He rolled his eyes impatiently. "That you're as thick as a wand and short as a finger. No wonder you're still single, even though you're the boy-who-lived." He smirked and turned back to the water.
Insecurely, Harry glanced down at his flaccid cock. It definitely wasn't as thin as a wand, but he hadn't really thought about it before. Was it small? Surreptitiously, he glanced behind him, craning his head to catch a glimpse of Malfoy.
Malfoy was thicker but he looked about the same length, give or take a few centimetres.
"Yours isn't much bigger."
Malfoy turned to face him slowly, the water cascading down his pale skin, making him glimmer. Harry wanted to lick him.
Oh, gods, the odd thing was happening again. Frantically, Harry looked down and saw his cock wasn't reacting. That was good. How embarrassing that would be. It wasn't as if he could explain that.
Malfoy said, "Want to bet?" There was a dangerous challenge lying underneath his words, but Harry only latched onto the challenge part and nodded confidently, more confidently than he felt. How were they going to measure?
"How? Because, you know, it's not fair, really. I'm bigger when..." He trailed off and gulped. What was he saying? He had to be insane.
Malfoy shrugged and glanced around once before grabbing his cock. A gasp escaped Harry's lips.
"Then we'll play your way. We'll measure our erections. Winner... gets to set their own terms. Got it?"
A fleeting thought, that if he won he could demand to see what Malfoy was getting up to in the Room of Requirement, passed through his mind. It was fleeting but it made him look at Malfoy's left arm. It was pale and wet, like the rest of his body, but there was a shadow. Harry wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if Malfoy had somehow found a way to make the mark fade.
The moment the words, "I got it," left Harry's mouth, Malfoy closed his eyes and slid his hand down his cock. Harry could only stare and try not to moan as Malfoy stroked himself, faster and faster. His head dropped back so that his drenched hair was pasted to his neck and shoulders, more yellow than white from the water. The soft muscles in his body tensed.
His mouth opened in an 'O' shape, and Harry thought Malfoy was going to come, thereby forfeiting the competition. Harry's toes curled against the tile, and not just because he wanted to find out what Malfoy had been up to all year. He wanted to watch the come shoot out of Malfoy's cock and hit the floor, mixing with the water and disappearing down the drain.
He wanted to know what Malfoy would say when he came. Harry always gasped softly. Was Malfoy a screamer, like Dean, who woke the dorm every time, because he always forgot to charm his bed silent? Or was he absolutely silent like Seamus, surprising as he was loud every other time. Ron always moaned long and low. Neville didn't wank, or if he did, he only did it when no one was around. It rather surprised Harry that he knew so much about his dorm mates' wanking habits when he'd never ever seen another boy jerk off. Except for Malfoy.
But he didn't get to find out what sounds Malfoy made when climaxing because he pulled away his hand just in time, eyes opening headily. He smiled distantly, eyeing Harry's cock.
Harry was mildly surprised to find his cock already erect and leaking -- when had that happened? -- but he supposed he wasn't too surprised.
"Measure," Malfoy whispered huskily -- Harry whimpered -- and stroked his cock absently. To keep it erect, Harry told himself, though with every stroke it seemed harder to believe. Each time that hand moved, Harry had the distinct impression that Malfoy was doing it to torture him. But there was no way Malfoy could know he'd gotten hard just from watching him.
Malfoy grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him closer. Harry stumbled and their cocks pressed together, both of them freezing. Harry gasped loudly and Malfoy bit down on his bottom lip.
Their foreheads were almost touching as they looked down at their cocks. The sight overwhelmed Harry. Their hard, red cocks pressed together were nowhere near as arousing as Harry had imagined. Not that he had imagined it until very, very recently.
"I'm bigger," Malfoy murmured in that same husky voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine, making him twitch, and rub slightly against Malfoy.
"You are not," Harry said since they looked the exact same. "Yours just curves more. See." He reached down, wedged a hand between their hot cocks and grabbed his own. "I can wrap eight fingers around mine."
He pumped once before grabbing Malfoy. "I can only wrap seven and a half fingers around yours."
Malfoy was silent, still looking down at their cocks. Harry tightened his fingers a moment, seeing if Malfoy was paying attention, and Malfoy snapped his hips, cock rubbing between Harry's fingers.
Quickly, Harry snatched his hands back and stepped under the water's spray. He had been holding Malfoy's cock!
God, his cock hurt so much. He looked at Malfoy, who was lazily running a finger up and down his cock, and couldn't help it. He pounced, crashing their lips together, hips thrusting against Malfoy's.
Malfoy let out a little cry of surprise, but then he was wiggling his hips in a way that reminded Harry of dancing. If dancing was supposed to be this arousing and naked and wet.
"These are the most fucked up terms ever," Malfoy managed before Harry silenced him with a forceful kiss. That's when he realized, however, that he'd just given up his chance to know what Malfoy was being so mysterious about.
Pathetically, Harry protested, "This isn't my terms. I want to see what you're doing in the Room of Requirement."
Malfoy pulled back, hips still moving, slowly stripping away Harry's sanity, and laughed. Then he shoved Harry against the tiled wall and nipped a searing line down his neck.
Malfoy mumbled into his neck, "Too late. This is your terms now."
Harry growled and bucked against him, intent on gaining control, but it backfired and Malfoy was wiggling his hips again. Blindly, Harry set a tempo with him. He wished the spray of the water were still on them so that he could watch it roll down Malfoy's body, which still looked lickable.
He reached his tongue out and laved Malfoy's shoulder, sucking at the spot then moving up until their tongues were sliding together.
It was much too hot, Malfoy was sucking on his tongue, and their cocks were still rubbing together, movements frantic. His balls were tightening and then Malfoy threw his head back, neck arched sexily. Harry latched onto his Adam's apple, sucking.
"Potter!" Malfoy groaned, hips stalling as his come shot onto their stomachs.
Harry had not expected him to shout his name, but it was so erotic that Harry found himself following shortly after, gasping into Malfoy's neck.
"Well," Malfoy said after a minute, but that was all he said. He moved under the water, washing the come from his stomach and legs. Harry only watched, feeling his cock reacting already to the sight of Malfoy running his hands all over his body.
Malfoy walked to the doorway, raised an eyebrow at Harry over his shoulder in a motion Harry didn't understand, and then exited. Harry slid to the floor, water coating the underside of his legs. He watched Malfoy's come swirl into the drain and grabbed his half-hard cock.
That was really not going to help his Malfoy stalking activities.