Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
It's starts out smoothly.
A gentle caress.
A selection of touches, tastes, smell.
And of brilliant color.
Red, purple, a light trace of blue.
(Depending on the light that is.)
Ah, how he adored the silky feel of it all beneath his finger tips.
He lifted a small jar off the table and coated his hands in oil,
Smiling serenely to himself.
This was his moment, the one few times a day he knew he could do no wrong.
Years and experience had taught him that.
More then that though …he adored these moments …
A master at the hand of his craft.
The smooth texture slid between his fingers and with one quick precise moment he was inside.
He smiled to himself.
So strange, the feel of it all.
Soft and pliant and somehow rough.
Heat began to seep into his fingers and he smiled wider, accepting what it was.
He removed his fingers, taking what was needed and grasped what had become an extension of himself.
With one quick plunge he was inside and out he came again until it was so rapid he, himself, could barely keep up.
Ah the sheer joy,
The strange, yet gratifying feel of it all.
Yes he adored this.
Nearly too much to be understood.
Just then the door opened and Draco stepped in.
"Hello, what are we having tonight?"
"Mexican." Harry answered simpily and he looked back down, careful not to slice himself right along with the hot pepper.
Heh heh heh …you all have dirty minds.