Chapter 23
Time went on, and the Holiday Ball approached them. Harry still held up the pretence that he wasn't going to go, to save trouble and arguments with his friends. That wasn't the worst of Harry's problem either, he'd started having feelings.
Sexual feelings.
It all started when Draco, in accordance to their routine, came out of the shower in the evening. Now normally this wasn't a problem, but normally he would be fully dressed. On the night in question, Harry's roommate, and also silly school crush came out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a tight pair of black boxers and an open silk black and emerald dressing gown with an oriental looking snake on the back. Not just that though, but Harry noticed how Draco's hair was still damp and curling at the ends, it was almost past his ears now it was so long, and his cheeks were flushed pink from the heat of the bathroom.
Without Harry's permission, he felt himself go rock hard in what probably was seconds, luckily no one but Harry knew that as he was hidden under his bedsheets.
"Are you alright Har? You've gone all red."
"Fine! Fine...just a bit hot in here."
"Pull your blanket off then?"
"No! No really I'm fine."
"Okay...?"
"Goodnight Draco."
"Goodnight Harry."
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
All he could think about was touching himself. He couldn't though because Draco was still awake and he'd defiantly suspect something.
Shit.
He didn't think he'd been this hard all his life, what was wrong with him. It was too much now, his flushed cock was straining to be touched, it was almost painful. An idea struck him. As quietly as he could he grabbed his wand and closed the curtains around the bed.
"Muffliato."
Even his voice sounded turned on, even to his own ears. Confident that Draco wouldn't know what he was about to do, Harry could wait no longer and pulled down the waistband of his cotton trousers to release his now leaking cock. Suppressing a moan he took the base of it in his hand and started moving it up and down experimentally. He hadn't done this much, with a dark powerful wizard out to kill him for most of his life he didn't really have the time.
He couldn't help but imagine a different hand instead of his own. Pale, almost translucent skin, long gracefully fingers. What if it wasn't just his hands on Harry? The image of blond hair bobbing up and down, pink shiny lips wrapped around him, blue grey eyes baring into his soul...
Fuck, if he kept on like this he'd cum in a few seconds. Although he desperately wanted to continue with the fantasy in his head, not wanting it to end, his own body betrayed him and he was bucking into his own hand in no time at all. Strips of hot white painted his bed sheets and pyjamas. It took him a few seconds to catch his breath back and process what just happened. He had just enough time to clean himself off with a few charms before he collapsed into his bed and into a beautiful dream.