potteresque_ire: (0)
Draco can tell you all about it himself.

(Cont'd)

Potter finally manages to roll aside. Barely on his feet, he throws himself against the tub of apples, pulls down his jeans and wraps his palm around his cock—thick, long and so very hard because of Draco. A scant stroke or two later, he groans and sprays all over the rotten fruit inside.

Still leaning against the edge of the tub, his softening cock dangling in front of him, Potter stares at Draco once more. "Fuck you," he whispers one last time. He then zips up and half runs, half limps away, stepping on his own wand as he goes.

Draco watches him leave. He lets his right hand wander slowly down his chest, past his broken rib or two, towards his own ridiculous bulge under his robe. Give it another ten minutes and Potter will come back, and he’ll heal Draco and clean him up as Draco do the same to him, as they've done in every Hogsmeade rendezvous. And Draco wants this to last long enough so that Potter can see this, and still better, sort this one out for him too.

Potter owes him. Always and forever.

And then, he'll dump the rotten apples all over Potter. That will be reason enough for them to schedule another fight...
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