I've always wanted to write a Drapple ;)
Draco's Apples
Draco liked apples. Ever since he was very young, his mother had taken to cutting up fresh apples and serving them as an afternoon snack in the manor with a tea that had been brewed by their House Elves.
Apples were sweet, sour and altogether juicy, and the way they crunched under his teeth, soft and rough and slick on the outside was heavenly.
Green apples were his favorite. He much preferred them to the sweetness of the red ones.
There was something incredibly arousing about eating an apple, Draco mused absently as he chewed on the fruity bite he had just taken from a flawless green apple. How the lips hugged the fruit, as if kissing it deeply, how the tongue came out to taste. It was fantastic, in his opinion.
His fumbled attempts at having sex with Pansy had taught him to prepare ahead, and he found that eating an apple, of all things, before sex, was the best way to, how to put it, get it up.
For some reason, that never struck Draco as particularly strange.
It may be that his particular relationship with apples had somehow affected his sexual drive over the years, but Draco didn't believe that was the issue. He just liked apples, period.
And if eating an apple was arousing, then seeing someone else eating one was overwhelming. The possibilities and fantasies swimming through Draco's mind as he stared at a fit Hufflepuff (not that he'd ever admit that) biting into a blood-red apple from across the Great Hall were inappropriate to say the least.
Draco felt the hinting tightness in his slacks and cleared his throat to cover his groan.
He really, really craved an apple right then.
"Hey, Draco, would you like a banana?" Pansy asked in a shrill voice, snapping him out of his apple-haze and back into reality. She was holding an unpeeled banana, and he grimaced in distaste.
Now, a banana, was a horrific fruit, if it could even be called that. It resembled the size and shape of a fine cock, and the texture... Lord, the texture was disgusting to even think about. It was too soft, gave way to the teeth too fast, mushy, in a way.
"Get that filth away from me, Pansy," he snapped.
Pansy looked at him in bafflement. Blaise sent him a worried look from across the table.
"You shouldn't talk to a lady like that," the other boy commented.
Draco snorted. "I wasn't." Pansy was no lady, not with those moans and pleads and shameless grunts as he pounded into her tight heat repeatedly, thinking about lips on apples, teeth and crunchy sweetness inside.
