Obsession
Obsession. Everyone has one. Not everyone will admit to his or her own obsession, but he could, at least to himself. His obsession was her mouth. She had full pink lips that she bit on when reading or deep in concentration. She would just barely tug at it in between her perfect white teeth. She did other things with her mouth, like the way she would suck on her Sugar Quills. The tip of her tongue would barely glide across the tops of the Quill before she would suck the sweet sticky treat between her lips. He would stop by and leave them on her desk without her knowing it was him leaving the sweet torturous items in all flavors and colors. Today he sat at his desk, across the walkway from her as she sat facing him, laughing with her best friend, while his cock grew harder as she lifted the spoon with chocolate ice cream into her mouth, licking the spoon as finished each bite.
Obsession. Everyone has one. For her it was his long fingers. Fingers that belong to a concert pianist, not a legal consultant with the bloody Ministry. She was hypnotized how he would roll the coin over his knuckles as he looked over form after form. She prayed he would never see her while she stared as he talked with his friends about Quidittch tossing a Snitch up only to then catch it between his calloused fingers. The same fingers that gripped his broom during all those matches between the different offices. The same fingers she imagined that morning while in the shower as she screamed his name with silencing charms all around so her temporary roommates would not hear her. It was a good thing her best friend brought her this ice cream or she would combust right where she sat in her soaking wet knickers.
Obsession. Everyone has one. For him, it was trousers. Do not look so skeptical, trousers can drive a sane man to the brink of madness. He loved kneeling in front of a lover, new or repeat. To kneel before a man and hear his buckle unclasp and then the snap pop, he was hard just thinking about the last time he was in that position. His fingers grasping tops of the trouser slowly guiding them over a stiff and firm cock. He was not one to discount kneeling before a woman, revealing her milky thighs to his mouth. On more than on occasion he fantasized about peeling the jeans from his best friend as she jerked her hot blonde co-worker into a frenzy. Damn his luck if they both were not wear trousers that day. Him in his perfectly tailored grey trousers that hugged his arse in a way that should be illegal and her in her Friday jean trousers that made him want to put his hands in her back pockets and squeeze. With a deep breath, Harry left Hermione with her ice cream then nodded a greeting to Draco as he headed to the loo to pull his own trousers down before wanking to the image of them both in his bed.
Obsession. Everyone has one. Mine? Well, that should be obvious. Mine is all of them…