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slyprenticeI have no clue where I'm going with this. At all. But I figured I'd give an excert anyway...
Untitled.
It had started out innocuously enough. A brush of hands, a smile. So simple when he looked back at it but at the time, it had been something else entirely.
Over the summer, Harry had grown again. He was taller, broader and was now eye to eye with George if not a little taller. His tan had deepened from a bronze to a chocolate brown that made George’s mouth water and his hair, if possible, had gotten darker too. The muscles in his body had become more defined, something of which - along with the tan - was from the hours of manual labor that his Aunt Petunia had insisted on him doing in their garden, he had explained.
It wasn’t until later in the summer, however, when George had seen Harry with his shirt off after a rather rowdy mock Quidditch match that he had seen just how much of this was true. Chocolate skin was everywhere, even disappearing into the dip of his hips into his trousers. When Harry had seen him looking, with a blush, he had sheepishly explained that many times he would work without a shirt or just in shorts to keep cool.
George had nodded then and smiled, clapping Harry on the back and making some jovial remark about how he would drop-jaws when school resumed. The younger man had blushed.
Later, when Fred was occupied with a game of exploding snap with Ginny and Ron and Harry’s eyes were glazed over while looking through the newest Quidditch Quarterly, he had snuck off to the loo and pumped himself furiously, images of sun-kissed sweaty Harry dancing behind his eyelids. Sweet Merlin he had never been so hard and wanting in his life. It had only took two short strokes and one squeeze before he was coming, spurting milky white ropes all the way up his stomach and hand, Harry’s name hurtling off his lips. He had never been so thankful for silencing charms in his life.
Untitled.
It had started out innocuously enough. A brush of hands, a smile. So simple when he looked back at it but at the time, it had been something else entirely.
Over the summer, Harry had grown again. He was taller, broader and was now eye to eye with George if not a little taller. His tan had deepened from a bronze to a chocolate brown that made George’s mouth water and his hair, if possible, had gotten darker too. The muscles in his body had become more defined, something of which - along with the tan - was from the hours of manual labor that his Aunt Petunia had insisted on him doing in their garden, he had explained.
It wasn’t until later in the summer, however, when George had seen Harry with his shirt off after a rather rowdy mock Quidditch match that he had seen just how much of this was true. Chocolate skin was everywhere, even disappearing into the dip of his hips into his trousers. When Harry had seen him looking, with a blush, he had sheepishly explained that many times he would work without a shirt or just in shorts to keep cool.
George had nodded then and smiled, clapping Harry on the back and making some jovial remark about how he would drop-jaws when school resumed. The younger man had blushed.
Later, when Fred was occupied with a game of exploding snap with Ginny and Ron and Harry’s eyes were glazed over while looking through the newest Quidditch Quarterly, he had snuck off to the loo and pumped himself furiously, images of sun-kissed sweaty Harry dancing behind his eyelids. Sweet Merlin he had never been so hard and wanting in his life. It had only took two short strokes and one squeeze before he was coming, spurting milky white ropes all the way up his stomach and hand, Harry’s name hurtling off his lips. He had never been so thankful for silencing charms in his life.
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