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lightofdayeTitle: The Upside of Flying in the Rain
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Ginny(/Demelza, sort of)
Word Count: 1,442 words
Content: Male Masturbation, Fantasies including sexual activity between teenagers. (Dean is 16/17, Ginny is 15, Demelza’s age is canonically unknown but likely younger than Ginny.)
Summary: Dean reflects on the upside of the team being soaked to their skins.
A/n: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tamlane, who requested and betaed this based on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_humpdrabbles’s prompt for this week “Rain” but this ended up far longer than a drabble.
There were many things for Dean Thomas to like and dislike about being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The popularity for one thing. Quidditch players were revered by their house, at least when they won games they were. And Dean took especial pride in his ability to fly, it really cemented his acceptance into the magical community in spite of his non-magical early childhood. The downside was the sheer amount number of hours he was required to put into team practise, even only as a substitute Chaser.
And then there were the days like today. It had been drizzling at teatime, but the Captain had decided that it was light enough to go out for a fly anyway. Then it had got heavier and heavier, and heavier, until finally everyone was soaked to their skin and the distant rumble of thunder finally caused Harry to call it a day.
That was one of the good days.
It was one of the good days because of his fellow chasers: Demelza Robins and Ginny Weasley. And the fact that Quidditch robes, not exactly billowing to start with, became nearly skin-tight when soaked with twenty gallons of water. Cloth clung to their lithe frames. It highlighted the strength of Ginny’s toned legs, and the fabric stretched tightly across her perky chest. Demelza’s tits might have actually been larger — Dean felt no guilt in noticing it — or it might have just been her smaller frame giving that effect.
They staggered shivering into the changing rooms, clumsy with cold and wanting nothing more than to get straight into the showers. In fact, the girls were so desperate to get out of their sodden robes and under hot water that they started pulling them off before they even got into the ladies' section of the shower room. Dean hesitated and then collapsed against a locker as if tired, still glancing at the ladies' out of the corner of his eye. Demelza’s hands were at the fastenings of her robes, undoing them so they hung open, and Dean caught a flash of a creamy smooth flesh and red lacey bra. Apparently Demelza hadn’t expected to make the Quidditch team and had never invested in a sports bra.
Ginny, direct as ever, hadn’t even bothered with the fastenings of hers and instead just yanked the top over her head and, one hand raking through her flaming hair to push it out of her eyes, cast it aside. She was wearing a sport’s bra; a lustreless tan affair that did nothing special for his libido but for the fact he was seeing more of her pale perfect skin, patterned with a bewilderingly random array of freckles, than she’d ever intentionally shown him.
Then, the second before she disappeared into the women’s shower room, she caught sight of him. Her head snapped around to look at him, her face impossible to read. He gave her a small shrug. Can’t blame a guy for looking when you give a show, can you? Ginny gazed back for a long second and then one eyebrow raised above a mysterious brown eye. Was that disapproval? A challenge? He couldn’t tell.
Dean’s face felt hot; he swallowed, the effect barely easing his dry mouth, and then he was retreating. He hurried into the men’s showers. Since everyone else was already in a stall, he stripped quickly and took the last one, gratefully feeling the hot water gush over him, chasing away the goosebumps the damp evening had made of his dark-chocolate coloured skin.
The steam wrapped around him. He was safely ensconced inside the stall, its walls and door sheltering him from view. His mind was transfixed by what he had seen, and he wondered what they were doing right now, in their own showers. He could see them in his mind’s eyes, pulling the rest of those clothes off, rubbing at themselves to fight away the cold.
It was either those thoughts or the hot water cascading over him, but Dean was starting to get feeling back in his extremities — in his fingers and toes and definitely between his legs. His hand wandered downwards nearly of its own accord, abandoning the soap to take a grip around his cock.
The girls would be using soap themselves now. He could imagine it foaming all over their slender bodies, being worked into sore muscles. Maybe they would help each other. They’d seemed comfortable enough stripping off with each other present. Dean could just see them helping each other out, rubbing soap on those hard-to-reach places, Maybe those hands might wander, the way his would, downwards to feel their arse, or to try and squeeze at a breast. Hell, Demelza was a pushover; Ginny could probably do whatever she wanted to her.
Under his grip, his cock was completely hard, his foreskin pulled back around the head, then forward and back again as his hand stroked up and down his length. It tensed and throbbed with its excitement at the pictures running through Dean’s head.
Then again, he realised, they hadn’t seemed to care he’d been watching them. He still wasn’t sure how Ginny had felt about him seeing her. He was her boyfriend, right? That should count for something. He was struck by the idea that maybe he’d read that situation entirely wrong? Maybe Ginny hadn’t been warning him off. Maybe it had been a challenge; a dare. To see if he’d join them.
Maybe he’d been welcome to join them. Fresh images filled his mind, urged on by his filthy imagination, the pace of his wanking quickening. He could have joined them. He could have been there right now in a stall with both of them. It would be cramped, of course, but he wouldn’t have minded. He could see himself between them, their bodies forced close by the confines of the shower. Ginny was his girlfriend so of course she’d be in front. His hands would twine in that red hair and the stuff down below would tickle at his cock as he grinded against her, between those legs. Demelza would just have to make do with being behind him, pressed against his back, those big tits smooshed against him, kissing and licking and feeling what parts she could reach, jealous of Ginny getting his dick.
No, that was no good. That was stupid. It was a waste of one of the girls. He should have his back against the wall, legs spread wide so they both had proper access to appreciate him. They be down on their knees for him as soon as they saw it. They’d both want a taste, hell, they’d probably fight over it.
Dean moaned at this thought but did quite the opposite of his fantasy. Leaning forward, one strong forearm braced across the tiles, Dean pressed his forehead against it, practically sobbing with tension as his free hand moved like a blur on his cock.
Yeah, they’d fight over it. He could see them both now, on their knees, with eager, hopeful eyes looking up at him. Their heads would clash, with Ginny’s fiery locks outshining Demelza’s chestnut hair. They’d have to take it in turns. Their lips would wrap around his cockhead before descending, taking as much of him into their mouths as possible. They’d struggle, of course; he’d never said it would easy for them. But the one who’d get the most of it, she’d get a treat. She’d get to continue sucking it. The other one would just have to wait their turn. No, no, he had a better idea: the other one could lick his balls, that would be it. His cock all down one girl’s throat and the other one’s tongue lapping away, swirling over his bollocks constantly. That’d be perfect, that would.
Dean came at the idea. Thick jets of it splattered across the tiles of the shower, pouring down the wall as the hot steamy water washed it away. He lay slumped against the wall, his legs feeling quite unstable after the force of his eruption.
It was quite some time before he felt able to leave the shower, but it was worth it. As Dean left the changing room to cross over the grounds back to the castle, he glanced at the sky. Typically, it had stopped raining now they’d called it a night, and dark starry sky peeked through patches in the white fluffy cloud cover. Still, there was darkness on the horizon; a fresh storm front moving in towards the castle, promising another few days of rain at least.
And that was perfectly fine as far as Dean was concerned.
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Ginny(/Demelza, sort of)
Word Count: 1,442 words
Content: Male Masturbation, Fantasies including sexual activity between teenagers. (Dean is 16/17, Ginny is 15, Demelza’s age is canonically unknown but likely younger than Ginny.)
Summary: Dean reflects on the upside of the team being soaked to their skins.
A/n: For
tamlane, who requested and betaed this based on hp_humpdrabbles’s prompt for this week “Rain” but this ended up far longer than a drabble.There were many things for Dean Thomas to like and dislike about being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The popularity for one thing. Quidditch players were revered by their house, at least when they won games they were. And Dean took especial pride in his ability to fly, it really cemented his acceptance into the magical community in spite of his non-magical early childhood. The downside was the sheer amount number of hours he was required to put into team practise, even only as a substitute Chaser.
And then there were the days like today. It had been drizzling at teatime, but the Captain had decided that it was light enough to go out for a fly anyway. Then it had got heavier and heavier, and heavier, until finally everyone was soaked to their skin and the distant rumble of thunder finally caused Harry to call it a day.
That was one of the good days.
It was one of the good days because of his fellow chasers: Demelza Robins and Ginny Weasley. And the fact that Quidditch robes, not exactly billowing to start with, became nearly skin-tight when soaked with twenty gallons of water. Cloth clung to their lithe frames. It highlighted the strength of Ginny’s toned legs, and the fabric stretched tightly across her perky chest. Demelza’s tits might have actually been larger — Dean felt no guilt in noticing it — or it might have just been her smaller frame giving that effect.
They staggered shivering into the changing rooms, clumsy with cold and wanting nothing more than to get straight into the showers. In fact, the girls were so desperate to get out of their sodden robes and under hot water that they started pulling them off before they even got into the ladies' section of the shower room. Dean hesitated and then collapsed against a locker as if tired, still glancing at the ladies' out of the corner of his eye. Demelza’s hands were at the fastenings of her robes, undoing them so they hung open, and Dean caught a flash of a creamy smooth flesh and red lacey bra. Apparently Demelza hadn’t expected to make the Quidditch team and had never invested in a sports bra.
Ginny, direct as ever, hadn’t even bothered with the fastenings of hers and instead just yanked the top over her head and, one hand raking through her flaming hair to push it out of her eyes, cast it aside. She was wearing a sport’s bra; a lustreless tan affair that did nothing special for his libido but for the fact he was seeing more of her pale perfect skin, patterned with a bewilderingly random array of freckles, than she’d ever intentionally shown him.
Then, the second before she disappeared into the women’s shower room, she caught sight of him. Her head snapped around to look at him, her face impossible to read. He gave her a small shrug. Can’t blame a guy for looking when you give a show, can you? Ginny gazed back for a long second and then one eyebrow raised above a mysterious brown eye. Was that disapproval? A challenge? He couldn’t tell.
Dean’s face felt hot; he swallowed, the effect barely easing his dry mouth, and then he was retreating. He hurried into the men’s showers. Since everyone else was already in a stall, he stripped quickly and took the last one, gratefully feeling the hot water gush over him, chasing away the goosebumps the damp evening had made of his dark-chocolate coloured skin.
The steam wrapped around him. He was safely ensconced inside the stall, its walls and door sheltering him from view. His mind was transfixed by what he had seen, and he wondered what they were doing right now, in their own showers. He could see them in his mind’s eyes, pulling the rest of those clothes off, rubbing at themselves to fight away the cold.
It was either those thoughts or the hot water cascading over him, but Dean was starting to get feeling back in his extremities — in his fingers and toes and definitely between his legs. His hand wandered downwards nearly of its own accord, abandoning the soap to take a grip around his cock.
The girls would be using soap themselves now. He could imagine it foaming all over their slender bodies, being worked into sore muscles. Maybe they would help each other. They’d seemed comfortable enough stripping off with each other present. Dean could just see them helping each other out, rubbing soap on those hard-to-reach places, Maybe those hands might wander, the way his would, downwards to feel their arse, or to try and squeeze at a breast. Hell, Demelza was a pushover; Ginny could probably do whatever she wanted to her.
Under his grip, his cock was completely hard, his foreskin pulled back around the head, then forward and back again as his hand stroked up and down his length. It tensed and throbbed with its excitement at the pictures running through Dean’s head.
Then again, he realised, they hadn’t seemed to care he’d been watching them. He still wasn’t sure how Ginny had felt about him seeing her. He was her boyfriend, right? That should count for something. He was struck by the idea that maybe he’d read that situation entirely wrong? Maybe Ginny hadn’t been warning him off. Maybe it had been a challenge; a dare. To see if he’d join them.
Maybe he’d been welcome to join them. Fresh images filled his mind, urged on by his filthy imagination, the pace of his wanking quickening. He could have joined them. He could have been there right now in a stall with both of them. It would be cramped, of course, but he wouldn’t have minded. He could see himself between them, their bodies forced close by the confines of the shower. Ginny was his girlfriend so of course she’d be in front. His hands would twine in that red hair and the stuff down below would tickle at his cock as he grinded against her, between those legs. Demelza would just have to make do with being behind him, pressed against his back, those big tits smooshed against him, kissing and licking and feeling what parts she could reach, jealous of Ginny getting his dick.
No, that was no good. That was stupid. It was a waste of one of the girls. He should have his back against the wall, legs spread wide so they both had proper access to appreciate him. They be down on their knees for him as soon as they saw it. They’d both want a taste, hell, they’d probably fight over it.
Dean moaned at this thought but did quite the opposite of his fantasy. Leaning forward, one strong forearm braced across the tiles, Dean pressed his forehead against it, practically sobbing with tension as his free hand moved like a blur on his cock.
Yeah, they’d fight over it. He could see them both now, on their knees, with eager, hopeful eyes looking up at him. Their heads would clash, with Ginny’s fiery locks outshining Demelza’s chestnut hair. They’d have to take it in turns. Their lips would wrap around his cockhead before descending, taking as much of him into their mouths as possible. They’d struggle, of course; he’d never said it would easy for them. But the one who’d get the most of it, she’d get a treat. She’d get to continue sucking it. The other one would just have to wait their turn. No, no, he had a better idea: the other one could lick his balls, that would be it. His cock all down one girl’s throat and the other one’s tongue lapping away, swirling over his bollocks constantly. That’d be perfect, that would.
Dean came at the idea. Thick jets of it splattered across the tiles of the shower, pouring down the wall as the hot steamy water washed it away. He lay slumped against the wall, his legs feeling quite unstable after the force of his eruption.
It was quite some time before he felt able to leave the shower, but it was worth it. As Dean left the changing room to cross over the grounds back to the castle, he glanced at the sky. Typically, it had stopped raining now they’d called it a night, and dark starry sky peeked through patches in the white fluffy cloud cover. Still, there was darkness on the horizon; a fresh storm front moving in towards the castle, promising another few days of rain at least.
And that was perfectly fine as far as Dean was concerned.
