Harry Potter (Snape/Draco)
Title: Virtual
Author: monitorscreen
Rating: NC17
Warning: --
Word count: 380
Summary: It was real if he thought hard enough.
Prompt: October 5 - Harry Potter, Snape/Draco: masturbation - "You see you're my only know how / The study of when I believe I belonged to you"
Virtual
by monitor screen
Draco buried his face further into the pillows, cotton smooth on his heated cheek. The quilt was pushed halfway down his back, but he did not feel the chill in the dreary room; sweat glistened faintly on his exposed skin. He shifted again, adjusting his grip.
If he concentrated some more he would feel the familiar stroke. He could see it in his mind's eye - a potion-stained hand, calloused from years of grinding and ladling, nails trimmed short for practicality, gliding down his pale expanse of skin. The hand cupped his buttock, teasing his cleft, before leaving to merely ruffle his hair. A dry snort at his whine.
Draco tossed the imaginary hand off his head, and shifted on the bed again. It took just the right angle...
Another hand closed around his shaft, identical callouses grazing his sensitive skin. He spread his legs wider, pushing into the firm pumps, rearing back to invite attention to his behind... His efforts were dismissed, as always. It had never been his call.
Draco kicked annoyedly at the sheets tangled around his legs. No, not sheets --
He found it obscurely erotic when the rough woollen robes brushed against the back of his thighs. It made him feel daring, rebellious, to writhe in all his naked glory in front of the still fully-clothed man. The end of a shirtsleeve scratched his belly as he tried to goad the hand into a quicker pace. He buried his face into the pillow to muffle his moan.
Draco bit in a mouthful of cotton, the fabric dampening immediately against his palate. He was close now.
The hand flicked over his leaking head. Repeatedly. Each time it became more unbearable, until the firing of nerves, the tight squeeze along his member, the crushing throes of sensations overpowered his world. It exploded in a brilliant, blinding, obliterating white.
Breathing hard, Draco tried to savour the fleeting waves of memory, the lingering tingle of a loving touch. When the last remnants of it faded away, he sighed and opened his eyes - to the bleak morning of repentance, the bare frames of a once lavishly-furnished room.
To the prominent emptiness by his side, now and forever onwards.
Draco stretched, and left the bed to begin his day.
Comments and critiques welcomed.
Author: monitorscreen
Rating: NC17
Warning: --
Word count: 380
Summary: It was real if he thought hard enough.
Prompt: October 5 - Harry Potter, Snape/Draco: masturbation - "You see you're my only know how / The study of when I believe I belonged to you"
Virtual
by monitor screen
Draco buried his face further into the pillows, cotton smooth on his heated cheek. The quilt was pushed halfway down his back, but he did not feel the chill in the dreary room; sweat glistened faintly on his exposed skin. He shifted again, adjusting his grip.
If he concentrated some more he would feel the familiar stroke. He could see it in his mind's eye - a potion-stained hand, calloused from years of grinding and ladling, nails trimmed short for practicality, gliding down his pale expanse of skin. The hand cupped his buttock, teasing his cleft, before leaving to merely ruffle his hair. A dry snort at his whine.
Draco tossed the imaginary hand off his head, and shifted on the bed again. It took just the right angle...
Another hand closed around his shaft, identical callouses grazing his sensitive skin. He spread his legs wider, pushing into the firm pumps, rearing back to invite attention to his behind... His efforts were dismissed, as always. It had never been his call.
Draco kicked annoyedly at the sheets tangled around his legs. No, not sheets --
He found it obscurely erotic when the rough woollen robes brushed against the back of his thighs. It made him feel daring, rebellious, to writhe in all his naked glory in front of the still fully-clothed man. The end of a shirtsleeve scratched his belly as he tried to goad the hand into a quicker pace. He buried his face into the pillow to muffle his moan.
Draco bit in a mouthful of cotton, the fabric dampening immediately against his palate. He was close now.
The hand flicked over his leaking head. Repeatedly. Each time it became more unbearable, until the firing of nerves, the tight squeeze along his member, the crushing throes of sensations overpowered his world. It exploded in a brilliant, blinding, obliterating white.
Breathing hard, Draco tried to savour the fleeting waves of memory, the lingering tingle of a loving touch. When the last remnants of it faded away, he sighed and opened his eyes - to the bleak morning of repentance, the bare frames of a once lavishly-furnished room.
To the prominent emptiness by his side, now and forever onwards.
Draco stretched, and left the bed to begin his day.
Comments and critiques welcomed.