..oo00oo..
Draco
"Alright, guys, this is our first match of the season and it looks like an easy one, Hufflepuff and all but if you dare to derogate this game, even for one second- I swear I'll be after each and every one of your sorry arses, and trust me, you do not want to mess with me, am I clear?" I gave each player a piercing gaze and received six curt nods, "Good! We are better than them, now let's go and prove that to the entire school!" I cried and was answered by six enthusiastic yells.
As I led my team out of the tunnel and into the pitch I had to give myself a mental congratulatory slap on the back for a brilliant pre-match pep talk, and then a mental slap in the face when the image of Oliver in all his Quidditch gear glory popped before me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to get rid of the poorly timed arousal that was starting to coil in my gut, trying to forget those sinfully tight white trousers but when I opened my eyes again they were still there and I realized I was looking at the real thing. Crap.
Right, Draco, focus! The goal is the snitch, small, yellow, different!
I approached the middle of the pitch, feeling like I was being torn between wanting to rush over and tackle Oliver for a passionate snog and wanting to run away from the exact same reason. Ever since the whole Charlie Bloody Weasley 'escapade' two weeks ago I simply couldn't get enough of my man, and let's just say- he didn't have too many objections. Last weekend was one of the most intense ones we had yet to share and when Monday morning came even Snape noticed that I was looking a little off. Last night I didn't get anything… Oliver, damn him, kept true to his 'no sex before games' policy which he claimed worked double for today since we were both to be on the pitch. He says that all this excess sexual tension would be good for my game. Not that I had a chance to check out my theory- which said that if you are relaxed and well shagged you'll perform much better. Oliver said I was only after quick shag… And here I thought I was so cunning in hiding it…
I managed somehow to make it there without fucking up and stood in front of Oliver, puffing my chest up a bit and trying to undermine Oliver's concentration as much as he did mine, I look good all geared up, this I know so I guess it's only fair that if I can't stop thinking "White and Tight" that he couldn't either!
"Gentlemen, I expect a fair, clean match on both sides." Oliver said gravely and sternly while fixing both me and the yellow captain each in turn with one of his 'I'm not going to take any of your shit' kind of look, and damn it all- it was one of the sexiest things I've ever heard. I should probably try to get Ollie to use on me in private sometime, along with that commanding voice… Oh boy, this is going to be a very long, hard match.
"Shake hands." He instructed and I reached my hand for that annoying Hufflepuff- Hopkins. He had a rather strong grip for badger. Then Hopkins turned to shake Oliver's hand and then it was my turn, oh, great- I didn't actually bank on having to touch Oliver before the match! This would break the little concentration I managed to gather up before the game.
I took a deep breath and reached forward very aware that Hufflepuff git was still looking at me and touched my palm to Oliver's and we both pulled away as if touched by fire. Guess I'm not the only one a problem here… That makes me feel so much better.
After the rather fussy ceremonies I returned to my team and we all mounted our broom, waiting anxiously for the whistle. Perhaps my problem here is that I see Oliver as Oliver, my secret boyfriend, love of my life, lust of my life and all that rot, maybe I should try to think of him as Ref Wood or something, you know, keep him clinical and detached, maybe then my jockstrap wouldn't be such a blessing and a curse at the same time- Oh, no time for any of it, here comes the whistle.
As predicted Slytherin took the lead right from the start, our chasers were ruthless and our keeper a real wall for most of the pathetic badgers attempts. I promised Oliver I wouldn't badmouth the Hufflegits. Of course he got me to make this stupid promise him he was still inside me so I'm not entirely sure if this even counts but I'll do my best for him.
As for myself, I scanned the place, cruising along trying my best to avoid looking at Oliver. Snitch, snitch, yellow little annoying ball, keep you bloody mind on the fucking snitch! But the little bugger decided to play hard to get and didn't even make an appearance until about half an hour into the game. When I spotted it I immediately charged after it, glad to finally have some sort of distraction from the White and Tight and launched into a spectacular dive, the Hufflepuff seeker hot at my heels with no real chance to catch me.
Unfortunately a bludger just zoomed into my line of view and startled me to an abrupt stop and duck, which of course made me, lose the bloody snitch, but when I looked up, heart pounding at a hundred miles an hour I could see Oliver looking at me, his eyes hard with concern and I managed to give him a little smile of reassurance before flying off, though my heart was soaring miles into the stratosphere, knowing that Oliver was worried about me. Well, so much for being able to put 100 per cent concentration in this bloody game, I just hope the little bugger of a ball puts an appearance soon enough.
..oo00oo..
Oliver
If I had known this would be so difficult to concentrate on this bloody game I'd go and drag Madame Hooch back from wherever it was she went and eloped to! First of all, Draco may claim that my Quidditch gear has a destructive effect on his ability to concentrate but the little tease knows very well that this goes both ways!
Aside from the problem of Draco's looking like a bloody green and white candy cane of sorts just begging to be sucked on (Er… Not the best mental image at the moment!) I didn't really bank on the fact that I would actually feel anxious for his wellbeing. In a field full of zooming bludgers, flyers and other assortment of balls, is hardly the place to put our secret to the test, not when I want to blast everything that is heading Draco's way- bludgers and players alike.
After his dangerous dive I decided to focus on the other players on the field, I couldn't possibly have my eyes glued to the Slytherin seeker the entire game, both for the devastating effect it had on my libido and both because I was, after all, the bloody ref and thus I had a job to do.
So far, surprisingly enough the Slytherin team were behaving themselves. Not that they played very nice but at least they didn't commit any atrocious fouls. The Hufflepuff team was rather surprising, they actually played well, not very effective point-wise but they did have style that was not seen in their house since the days of Cedric Diggory- or so I was told anyway, I'm not much in the habit of following school Quidditch.
I had just awarded Hufflepuff with a penalty shot, my arm stretching and pointing at the yellow keeper when something crashed into my wrist full force. At first I thought it was a stray bludger, but then remembered that those were charmed to avoid the referee. Through the pain in my left wrist that was pounding so hard that I could hear it in my ears I saw, as if in a slow motion, Draco diving down. He tossed a glance behind his shoulder to see if I was fine and that was his undoing, since this split second of concentration lapse was all it took for a bludger aimed at him to hit him square on the side. The sickening sound of cracking bones felt like the only sound around and I felt sick to my stomach, vision going all askew.
I watched mesmerised as Draco spun out of control, the ground looming and approaching him at an alarming rate. Before I could fully process what I was doing I pulled my wand out and yelled a slowing spell, enabling the barely conscious love of my life to touch the ground safely. Throat constricting with fear and one hand cradled against my chest I followed suit. My landing was far from perfect but right now none of it seemed important. When I reached Draco I chocked out rather sobbingly, feeling tears dampening my cheeks but I couldn't tell if they were from the speed of flying, from the pain I was feeling or the desperation of seeing Draco like this- probably all of it.
"Draco…" And in retrospective, I'm pretty glad the rest of the players and audience was still too shocked of the fast turn of events to follow. Draco opened glazy, unfocused eyes and gave me a weak smile,
"Ollie, I won." He whispered before a violent coughing spasm rocked his entire body and his paling lips were tinted crimson.
Oh, shit, oh, no! No, Draco, please don't…
"Madame Pomfrey!" I yelled desperately before I tuned out everything and cupped Draco's cheek,
"Draco, love, please you have to stay awake, help is on the way, please lovely, stay awake." I whispered desperately even as his eyes were slipping shut.
"Move over, Mr. Wood." I lifted my head to see Madame Pomfrey standing above us, the headmaster and rest of the staff flanking her and moved backwards awkwardly, recognizing for the first time the sharp pain that shot through my right ankle, probably the result of a reckless, one-handed dive.
"I believe this is yours." I lifted my head, fighting back waves of nausea to see Madame Pomfrey holding the snitch for me to take. I grabbed the little ball in my uninjured hand and even managed to bring the whistle to my lips, closing my eyes against the pain, before giving out a pitiful croak.
"Mr. Wood, are you quite alright?" I opened my eyes again and saw the bleary face, tinted with red edges of Professor McGonagall hovering in front of me, I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision but to no avail. "Do we need to call this game off?" She asked and I shook my head- oh, bad, bad move…
"N-no, Sly-Slytherin won." She nodded and prayed the whistle from my numb fingers, giving a sharp blow and calling out,
"Mr. Malfoy caught the snitch, Slytherin wins."
After that everything turned into a blur for me, being rushed off the pitch, seeing Draco's deadly pale and unmoving on a floating gurney being propelled towards the hospital wing, me following quickly on a similar gurney, and then Draco being ushered behind a screen of crisp white curtains hiding him from my view. I wanted to cry out, demand that they let me see him, touch him, make sure he's alive and going to be well but the pain blazed itself hot and white pulsating sharply through my body from two directions and I just couldn't summon the will or strength to fight it.
"Well, Mr. Wood, that was quite a nasty tumble you took back there." I prayed my eyelids open and blinked owlishly at the school matron, trying to remember dimly where I was and what happened when I tried to move my hand to rub my eyes and a sharp pain brought it all back, "Don't try to move, Mr. Wood, you broke your wrist, ulna and ankle."
"Draco…" I muttered, not caring one bit for what might happen to me,
"He will be fine." She answered curtly, before presenting me with a big bottle of purple potion, I gave the bottle one look and grimaced- oh, not skele-gro again…
"Oh, yes, I'm afraid it's skele-gro again for you." She opened the bottle and measured a spoonful of the foul thing before sticking it firmly in my mouth. I spluttered and chocked but managed to get it all in before she presented me with another spoonful,
"Just this one more, than you can have some pain relieving potion and some pumpkin juice. You'd think that you of all people would be used to the taste of skele-gro," Madame Pomfrey chuckled at the expression, "I think you must have finished a case-full of this stuff back in your day." She said referring to my school Quidditch career, which truth is told was indeed rather… bone breaking.
"Draco, how is Draco?" I asked again once the pain relieving potion blissfully started doing its job and the throbbing behind my eyes and in my head was reduced to a bearable pulse.
"He will be alright. He took a rather vicious hit- First in his shoulder from the clash with you and then to the ribs from his unfortunate encounter with the bludger. He is very lucky that you managed to slow his fall or he'll be sure to die."
"Blood, there was blood, on his lips." I whispered, my brain nearly going comatose at the thought of Draco dying,
"Yes, one of his broken ribs punctured the lung, but I managed to get the internal bleeding under control. I would like to keep the two of you over night here, to make sure you are fine." I nodded and slumped back against the pillows. That's a good sign, right? If she's planning on keeping Draco here for only a night his injury can't be that serious…
"Do try and get some sleep, Mr. Wood. I'll come back to check on you first thing in the morning." Well, that's easy for you to say, you're not the one who's been force-fed skele-gro and who knows how many other vile potions down her system! But apparently one of those potions must have been a sleeping draught because I was out like light in two seconds flat.
..oo00oo..
Draco
When I woke up the first thing I saw was Pansy sitting on my bedside chewing absently on something that on closer inspection turned out to be a liquorice wand. When she saw that I was awake she leaned forward with all the cautiousness of someone who was dying to jump up for a hug but had to wield all their willpower not to do so.
"Pansy, what happened?" I asked her, alarmed to find that my throat was so dry and my voice so cracking it sounded like a squeak.
"Hmm, nothing much, really," She began somewhat sarcastically, the ultimate Pansy way to hide fear, ticking off facts with the stub of liquorice on her fingers, "First you and Oliver had a spectacular smash, apparently breaking your shoulder and his arm, then you took a bludger to the side, resulting in three broken ribs, one that punctured your lung, I might add, and from there it was pretty much a free fall that Oliver somehow managed to slow down, and on top of it all you somehow managed to snug the snitch and won the game for Slytherin and if you dare to pull another stunt like this ever again, I swear I'll go down to the pitch and AK you myself!" She finished her little speech and slammed back in her chair, stuck her candy in her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest angrily.
"Pans, I'm sorry, I…"
"You could have died, you git!" She cried, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "And for what? A stupid game!" She sniffled and whipped her eyes and I felt a stab of guilty fear, if Pansy is reduced to tears than things must be really serious.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you are finally awake. How are you feeling?" Madame Pomfrey paced briskly into my little makeshift of a room and immediately began to run her wand over me,
"Parched." I croaked and she smiled before conjuring a big glass of water that I gulped down greedily, once I got some semblance of control over my voice again I asked,
"Where's Oliver… I mean Mr. Wood?" I hastily tried to rectify my mistake but caught the little mischievous gleam in her eye,
"You and Mr. Wood seem rather concerned over each other's state." Oh, far more than you'll ever guess…
"Hmm, well, I… I did cause his injuries." I stammered trying my hardest not to blush and cursing my pale complexion.
"He's just fine. He's been discharged this morning."
"Morning? What time is it, how long was I out?" I demanded loudly, oh sweet Merlin, don't let it be serious enough to summon my parents over.
"It is four in the afternoon; you slept for the better part of the last 24 hours. You took some pretty severe injuries back there young man. I cannot believe that Albus would let such young children risk their lives for… nothing! I should have a private word with him on the matter!" Pansy and I exchanged a glance and a small shudder as memories of the Yule Ball came flooding back, but luckily the old crone was too busy running tests on me and muttering darkly to herself on the recklessness of Quidditch to notice, "Well, I'm sure you have far better things to do with what's left of your weekend. Off with you, Mr. Malfoy, and don't let me see you back in here anytime soon." She added with a small smile before turning to leave.
"Thank you for saving my life." I said quietly and she half turned her head back,
"You're welcome, Mr. Malfoy." She said before disappearing behind the curtain. I slowly rose, feeling every muscle in my body groaning and grunting back to life. I grabbed the clothes Pansy offered me and glared at her; she shrugged and rolled her eyes before walking over to the other side of the curtain. I could see her silhouette and hear the impatient tapping of her foot and smiled as I pulled the plain grey robed over my head.
As soon as the infirmary door closed behind us, Pansy grabbed my in a tight hug,
"I'm so glad you're ok," She whispered, face buried in my shoulder,
"Me too, thanks love." She chuckled against me before lifting her head,
"Come on, darling, I promised your boyfriend that I would get you straight to him from here. He's probably wore a trench in the floor pacing frantically by now."
"Thanks, Pansy, you're the best." I hugged her tight and dropped a kiss on her dark curls,
"I know! And you best not forget it." She poked me playfully in the chest, "Now go and be happy, I'll see you in the dorms tonight."
I took off in a run, desperate to feel Oliver's arms around me again, reassuring me that everything is alright. I burst into the inner room and nearly laughed out loud when I saw Pansy was right, Oliver had been pacing anxiously. When he same me however he froze on the spot looking at me as if he's seen something unreal. I gave him a tentative smile and a small 'hi'. That seemed to break the enchantment Oliver was under and he crossed the room in three strides scooping me into such a tight hug that I feared for the safety of my newly repaired ribs.
"Draco, oh gods, you're alright, oh gods, I was so scared, I thought you were… and there was blood and… Oh gods, I'm sorry." He murmured over and over again into my hair and I felt the tears prickling behind my eyes because I knew it was my fault that this whole mess happened. I pulled back a little so that I could cup Oliver's face in my hands,
"Don't be sorry, my love, it was my fault, you saved me. Thank you." I whispered and caught his lips in a gentle kiss. When we broke the kiss Oliver smiled at me and led me to the bed, laying me down before he leaned in to pepper my face with tiny feather-like kisses that soon found my neck,
"I guess there's nothing like a brush with death to make one horny as hell." I chuckled and Oliver lifted his head, his eyes completely serious and my smile melted away,
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, all fixed and mended." I assured him and caught that little glimmer that took over his eyes whenever he was about to do something naughty and my heart flared with happiness and excitement.
"That's good, unfortunately I have to pop to the Hospital Wing so that Madame Pomfrey could have a look at my leg." I groaned and pouted at that,
"Must you?"
"I'm afraid so, lovely, but if you're a good little boy and stay right where you are, I promise to make it worthwhile for you when I get back." I crossed my arms over my chest,
"We'll see, I have to think about it." Oliver dropped a quick kiss on my lips before rising to his feet.
"Good boy." I stuck out my tongue at him and he grinned before leaving and closing the door behind him. Well, that's disappointing to say the least. I spent a few seconds looking at the ceiling before I got too bored with that and then turned my head to look at the rest of the room. Hmm, let's see- music machine? Nope, I've learned my lesson about that one, thank you very much. What else… Boy, what with the Spartan minimalist attitude here? I can safely say that this is not the real Oliver! The only other thing in this room that was even remotely interesting was the wardrobe… Wait a second… Wardrobe equals clothes, equals secret fashion fetish equals… Yay! Full of vigorous energy I jumped from the bed and headed for the wardrobe, fully planning on lashing my uncompromising sense of fashion on what ever horrors might lurk in the depth of this unassuming wooden box. Unfortunately there was nothing remotely interesting in Oliver's wardrobe, no embarrassing tops that were given to him as a gift and he never had the heart to throw away, no underwear with stupid messages on them… damn.
I rummaged half heartedly at the bottom of the wardrobe, very disappointing in my boyfriend's perfect taste in clothes when I hit the gold mine! Oh, yes. I pulled out the offending items and set them on the floor looking at them. If I had to guess at the top of my head I'd say they were some sort of footwear, but only because they looked like severed bear paws, claws included. The material, though soft and furry was hardly a bear's coat, and the shape was a little wrong too. After a moment's thought I slipped off my own shoes and gingerly lowered my bare foot into the soft looking recess of the strange footwear and then stood up, looking down at myself and feeling really dumb. I had to admit that the slippers were rather comfortable, and surprisingly soft but that did not make up for the sheer ridiculousness of wearing them. I walked over to the mirror in order to inspect the full effect and soon discarded my robes, when I realized they were obscuring most of my feet and since the slippers were rather bulky they were tenting the hem of my robes making me look even more foolish.
And that is why when Oliver walked in he found me strutting in front of his mirror wearing nothing but white boxer-briefs and a pair of brown ugly and hairy slippers. To his credit I must say that he took it rather well, in fact he leaned on the doorframe and laughed himself silly.
"Enjoying yourself?" I asked with a cold sneer, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to tap my foot until I remembered what I was wearing by which time Oliver literally collapsed a few inches down the doorframe holding his stomach and practically wheezing through his mirth.
"Oh, immensely, lovely- you make such a beautiful picture wearing my 'Homer Simpson slippers'." He said as he walked towards me, whipping tears from his eyes and took my hand in his. "There are a couple of rules that come with those," He whispered while bringing my hand to his lips, kissing it softly and leading me to the bed again, "First off, you can't step outside in them, they are not waterproofed," He pushed me gently and lowered my head to the pillow, I looked hungrily at his mouth while he was speaking wondering when he'd start devouring me at last. "Second, you can't wear those to bed."
"Why not?" Oliver gave me a little smirk and went over to the slippers, lifting one bear-footed leg and flicking the slipper off,
"Because then I wouldn't be able to worship your feet." Worship my feet… Is he having me on? Surely he doesn't mean he's going to… Oh, good gods in heaven above he is! I gulped and bit hard on my lip when Oliver's tongue darted out and tentatively licked the arch of my foot, sending cold shivers all over me and a tingling sensation through my skull. Oh, Merlin… Fairly early in my sexual relationship with Oliver I learned that no matter what part of me Oliver was actually touching at the moment it had a direct link to my cock, and this was no different. Gods, I never thought that having your toes sucked could be so erotic… and yet, Oliver was wrapping his tongue around each just like he would my fingers after a wank to taste the come on them.
By the time Oliver finished licking both my feet to his satisfaction I was already impossibly hard and leaking, just wanting the tease to end,
"Ollie, please…" I heard myself begging through the vapours haze of sexual bliss that was fogging my brain. The next thing I knew his lips were wrapped firmly around the base of my cock, how the hell is he doing this? And his head was bobbing almost frantically above my lap. It didn't take long for me to come; in fact, I think it was rather embarrassingly short. But then I was spiralling out of control, and I'm pretty sure those loud moans and cries were coming from me.
"You have such lovely toes. So… cute." Oliver drawled as he finally moved up and nuzzled my neck. I tried to grin but my muscles were so relaxed they refused to cooperate. Over the past couple of weeks Oliver seemed to have develop a pattern which involved his mouth, my cock and more often than not my nipple ring- which I'm pretty sure the guy at the piercing place messed up because there is no bloody way that it normal that whenever Oliver does as much as breath on it I get an instant erection. I really hope it'll desensitize a little with time because I'm quit tiered of covering it every morning since the rustling of fabric against it makes me squirm so much… But anyway, the point is, Oliver's been working me so thoroughly that every time I end up in a state of such acute after-glow lethargy that I can't do anything but drift off to La-La land, which means that poor Ollie has to fend for himself and that's not really fair.
And so I called on for any reserves of energy I had stored in me and rolled over so I could face Oliver, fully intending to repay the favour, or die trying to… well, probably pass out trying to.
"Can I return the favour?" I purred in Oliver's ear and very subtly rubbed my foot to his, but instead of getting the permission I was hoping for Oliver shied his feet away from my touch and his cheeks suddenly blazed pink,
"No."
"Why not?" I pouted, this was hardly fair, though truth be told- I didn't particularly think I'd enjoy sucking on his toes but I still had to make the offer, right?
"Because… your toes are cute, mine are ugly…" He explained sheepishly and I surreptitiously tried to turn my head and see for myself, but Oliver seemed to read my action and curled his toes away from my sight, which I found most amusing and absolutely adorable.
"Fine, I guess I'll just have to suck you off then." I concluded in a mock offended tone, just for the hell of it,
"Yes, I guess so." Little brat wasn't taking up the bait. Oliver spread his legs rather eagerly and I took my place between them, focusing hard, as I always did before that particular action, trying to go over every move I was about to perform to make sure I didn't botch up.
I started with nuzzling Oliver's lap, just because I love the way his hair tickles my nose whenever I do. I could feel his hard cock rubbing softly against my cheek and Oliver's soft moans of appreciation. After a couple of long licks of the shaft I decided to change direction and engulfed the head of Oliver's cock in my mouth, never tiring of that unique taste and feel against my tongue. I wrapped my hand on the base and started working my way towards it, determined to get it right for once, if Oliver could do, if Michael could do it then by Merlin's beard so can I!
I managed to get about half of Oliver's cock in my mouth and down my throat when my gag reflex kicked in and I nearly chocked. Face turning red in shame and lack of oxygen I hastily pulled back and sat on my haunches swallowing hard and trying to sooth my sore throat. Damn, damn and fuck! This is so unfair!
"Draco, everything alright?" Oliver asked in concerned, his hazel eyes clouded with lust mingled with slight frustration, to match my own. I had to think fast if I didn't want Ollie to know that I'm feeling like I'm about to be violently ill, and then the idea struck me. I swiftly moved to the bedside table and grabbed the lube from the top drawer and quickly saturated Oliver's anticipating erection, then prepared myself as quickly as I could, not bothering with enough stretching and eyes never leaving Oliver's I lowered myself on him. Oliver's breath caught up in his throat, completely taken by surprise by my actions but quickly recovering and joining the effort pumping his hips vigorously to match my descending movements. I was dimly aware of Oliver's hand reaching up and starting to massage my own erection but the stimulation only prompted me to move faster and soon we were both mewling and crying out our mutual pleasure.
After that we were both thoroughly spent and Oliver rolled us on our sides, not bothering to take his cock out of me, and began to kiss me gently and caress my sides. It took me a moment to realize that I was lying there, with a half hard cock still trapped inside my body and what surprised me most was the fact that I felt absolutely no need to tell Oliver to back off. Fuck, I'm such a little slut…
We continued to kiss and touch leisurely, no words- those never did us any good anyway, slowly bringing each other to hardness again. This time Oliver flipped me over to my back, looming over me, and I wrapped my legs around his broad back, not letting him getting a moment's rest before he began to pump in and out of me again, starting slow and meticulous but steadily his speed and the depth of his thrusts mounting. Gods that felt good. The little devil decided to bring it home in the most effective way he knew and lowered his head to my chest; I didn't even see Oliver's head going down before I felt that surge of red-hot, almost solid surge of exhilaration running through me like a flash of lightning- the way it always felt when Oliver was touching my nipple-ring and I just couldn't hold back anymore.
The next time I opened my eyes it felt like years after, there were little purple lights popping in my peripheral vision that made blink and wonder if I needed to get my eyes checked. My entire body felt like it was cemented to the bed, far too heavy to even contemplate moving. Of course, once I could actually bring my mind around it turned out that part of the reason I couldn't move was because Oliver was sprawled completely over me.
"Ollie, shove over, I want to get a shower." I said huskily, feeling my cheeks flush a little when I remembered the reason that made my voice so tender.
"Hmm, but you feel so good." He mumbled, not budging an inch. I stroked those fabulous back muscles, feeling the sweat that clang to them and gave myself a little mental pat on the shoulder,
"Yeah, especially while leaking your come all over the place," My stomach muscles were clenching and I started to fidget as exactly that started to happen, well, guess twice is my limit then, but I couldn't possibly pass on the opportunity to jibe Oliver a bit, "Merlin, how much exactly do you store in there?" Oliver groaned and shifted, rolling on his side and giving me a disgusted frown, he's just like a little choir boy sometimes- all prude and prim.
"Yeah, yeah, alright, go on. You little foul mouth you." And oh how you love my little foul mouth…
Once Oliver was off me I gingerly got up and rather awkwardly made my way to the bathroom, while Oliver was following my every movement of course. What started out as 'leaking' rapidly turned into one of the most annoying feelings of my life. A steady trickle of semen that poured over the back of my thighs, flowing slowly and managing to irk the hell out of every inch of skin it passed. I simply couldn't get into the shower fast enough.
When I came back to the room, all clean and scrubbed Oliver was still lying, pretty much in the same position I left him, dozing off. I took a moment to admire his sprawled limbs and debauched look. I made that- I did! Oliver cracked an eye open and beckoned me back to bed. I snuggled at his side, inhaling the heady smell of pure sex that clang to every part of him,
"You smell like sex." I purred as I kissed every bit of naked flesh I could reach,
"You smell like soap." Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, Mr. Wood?
"Well, I can't very well show up at the Great Hall for supper smelling of spunk and lubricant, now can I?"
"Oh, and I suppose I can?"
"Be nice, give your adoring fans something to wank about before bed." I teased and he pulled a disgusted face at me,
"Ok, you convinced me, I'm off to the shower myself," I laughed at his urgent tone and he rolled himself off the bed, stretching those magnificent muscles I love so much, "Will you be here when I get out?"
"Of course." I had no plans to go anywhere in the near future. Well, except for supper soon, as my tummy so graciously reminded me.
A/N: AK means to 'Aveda Kedavra' someone, very useful when you want to threat your foe or your best friend- as the case may be.
I tried to look for the Homer Simpson bear slippers in the net, so that I could link you to a photo but alas, I could not find one, so I guess you'll just have to go and watch some "The Simpsons" if you really and desperately want to know what they look like- or if you just want to have some fun.