left
harry potter; i do not own the characters or settings involved; lots o' swearing. it was inspired by reading too much hustler. hee.
Left.
by inthekeyofpike/elfiepike
I.
"I bet she has a big fuckin' she-cock under that prim and proper uniform," Warrington says, spitting. Draco lets his eyes travel to where the older Quidditch player is looking, and finds himself both startled and disgusted at the sight of Katie Bell, landing cleanly on the pitch.
Draco knows that he's not the one who's supposed to hear this, though.
"Do you like them like that, Warrington?" Flint asks, and Pucey's smile is harsh in the cold air.
The four of them spy on the Gryffindor Quidditch practice from the vantage point of the Slytherin box, unseen but not hidden. The morning is far too sharp for Draco to feel comfortably superior, and he carefully avoids looking directly at anyone, his teammates or the Gryffindors.
"You know how those work," Warrington says, as if Flint never opened his mouth. "Especially with athletic girls: they get these enlargened clitori--"
He is so crude, Draco thinks.
"You'd like for her to have one so she could fuck you from behind, is that it, Warrington?" Flint cuts into the description again.
This time, Warrington takes a moment to think about it. "I wouldn't mind," he says.
They're all watching Bell now. She catches the Quaffle with smooth grace and her biceps are clearly defined beneath her sweater. She had the outer robe off before the Slytherin spies had found themselves a place on the stands.
"I bet she gets a lot of practice jacking off her she-cock with those arms," and Warrington has started up again.
"Your arse will be gigantic after she fists you, and you'll like it, won't you, Warrington," but Flint is only saying this out of habit.
II.
"Malfoy!" Flint says, and Draco comes to the sharp realization that this was not the first time Flint called his name. He assumes an annoyed expression, and knows that this is not endearing him to the Slytherin captain.
"Practice tomorrow morning. You'd better fuckin' be there, Malfoy." You haven't proven yourself as a seeker.
Draco barely keeps his sneer in check. It wouldn't do to have Flint more horrible than he already was.
Bole chuckles mirthlessly. "Still miss Higgs, eh, Flint?" He has long canines and little to no tact.
III.
They all gang up on him in the showers.
I'm twelve years old, Draco thinks. Do many twelve-year-olds have to deal with this?
Draco wishes he was bigger.
IV.
"I'd like to fuck her, though. I bet she'd be all quiet, be all Gryffindor about it, 'I'm not fuckin' screamin' for some fuckin' Slytherin,' but the whore'd really like it, and you know, she-cocks come faster, she wouldn't be able to help herself." The way Warrington stares at Bell creeps Draco out, but he's almost used to it by now.
"Shut the fuck up, Warrington." Flint is even uglier when he scowls.
"Just 'cause you don't have Higgs anymore--"
"Shut it," Pucey says.
Mornings keep getting colder, and without his scarf it's a strain to not shiver.
Left.
by inthekeyofpike/elfiepike
I.
"I bet she has a big fuckin' she-cock under that prim and proper uniform," Warrington says, spitting. Draco lets his eyes travel to where the older Quidditch player is looking, and finds himself both startled and disgusted at the sight of Katie Bell, landing cleanly on the pitch.
Draco knows that he's not the one who's supposed to hear this, though.
"Do you like them like that, Warrington?" Flint asks, and Pucey's smile is harsh in the cold air.
The four of them spy on the Gryffindor Quidditch practice from the vantage point of the Slytherin box, unseen but not hidden. The morning is far too sharp for Draco to feel comfortably superior, and he carefully avoids looking directly at anyone, his teammates or the Gryffindors.
"You know how those work," Warrington says, as if Flint never opened his mouth. "Especially with athletic girls: they get these enlargened clitori--"
He is so crude, Draco thinks.
"You'd like for her to have one so she could fuck you from behind, is that it, Warrington?" Flint cuts into the description again.
This time, Warrington takes a moment to think about it. "I wouldn't mind," he says.
They're all watching Bell now. She catches the Quaffle with smooth grace and her biceps are clearly defined beneath her sweater. She had the outer robe off before the Slytherin spies had found themselves a place on the stands.
"I bet she gets a lot of practice jacking off her she-cock with those arms," and Warrington has started up again.
"Your arse will be gigantic after she fists you, and you'll like it, won't you, Warrington," but Flint is only saying this out of habit.
II.
"Malfoy!" Flint says, and Draco comes to the sharp realization that this was not the first time Flint called his name. He assumes an annoyed expression, and knows that this is not endearing him to the Slytherin captain.
"Practice tomorrow morning. You'd better fuckin' be there, Malfoy." You haven't proven yourself as a seeker.
Draco barely keeps his sneer in check. It wouldn't do to have Flint more horrible than he already was.
Bole chuckles mirthlessly. "Still miss Higgs, eh, Flint?" He has long canines and little to no tact.
III.
They all gang up on him in the showers.
I'm twelve years old, Draco thinks. Do many twelve-year-olds have to deal with this?
Draco wishes he was bigger.
IV.
"I'd like to fuck her, though. I bet she'd be all quiet, be all Gryffindor about it, 'I'm not fuckin' screamin' for some fuckin' Slytherin,' but the whore'd really like it, and you know, she-cocks come faster, she wouldn't be able to help herself." The way Warrington stares at Bell creeps Draco out, but he's almost used to it by now.
"Shut the fuck up, Warrington." Flint is even uglier when he scowls.
"Just 'cause you don't have Higgs anymore--"
"Shut it," Pucey says.
Mornings keep getting colder, and without his scarf it's a strain to not shiver.