Harry, torn between the urge to run away and the need to stay, remained motionless, heart thudding wildly.
"Oh come now, Potter. I know you're lurking there beneath your little cloak. Were you hoping to catch me in the shower? Or possibly doing something even more… enticing?" With that, the blond pushed his gloved hand deeper into his briefs… and stroked.
Harry could not have moved if he tried. Every electrical impulse in his body seemed to have concentrated itself in his groin, preventing not only movement, but coherent thought. It suddenly seemed extraordinarily hot beneath the confining material of his cloak.
Malfoy sighed and pushed away from the wall without removing his right hand from his pants. As he moved, the pink tip of his cock peeked from beneath the silvery waistband. Harry's jaw dropped and he touched his tongue to suddenly bone-dry lips.
Run, run, run! his mind screamed as Malfoy drew closer, but his body refused to obey. Malfoy's left hand reached out, blindly feeling his way as he stepped closer and closer… His fingertips touched Harry's chest and the grey eyes widened—had Malfoy been bluffing? The glove curled shut on a handful of invisibility cloak and tore it away in a swirl of material, leaving Harry's hair standing on end in a mass of static.
Harry blinked at Malfoy, whose eyes were still huge with amazement. Harry swallowed hard and tried to speak, but anything he might have said would come out as idiocy. He was caught, plain and simple. He waited for Malfoy to sneer at him, or laugh, or shove him, or hex him. Instead, Malfoy's gloved hand touched Harry's chest again, tentatively, as though Harry were a figment instead of flesh and blood.
When Harry did not move, the touch grew bolder, splaying wide and sliding over Harry's chest. Malfoy stepped closer, close enough that their breath mingled and Harry smelled peppermint and chocolate—Malfoy and his sweet tooth; he seemed to exist on sugar alone.
Malfoy's right hand tugged at the bottom of Harry's shirt, easing it slowly from the waistband of his jeans. Harry realized the movement meant Malfoy's hand no longer teased his cock, which would have been a tragedy if those hands were not touching Harry. He wanted to drop his eyes but his gaze was entranced by silver.
His shirt slid out and out and out, and then fingers touched his abdomen, slightly cool, but soft as lambskin. Harry shivered as Malfoy's hand travelled upwards, beneath his shirt. The fact that Malfoy had not removed his gloves was somehow ridiculously erotic. Both hands caressed Harry's nipples, one outside his shirt and one beneath, stroking languidly.
Malfoy moved closer still and Harry opened his mouth—to speak?—which Malfoy seemed to take as an invitation. His grey eyes drifted shut and then his lips were on Harry's, firm and demanding. Malfoy pushed him suddenly, not away, but into the wall. Harry's head banged against the stone, but he didn't care because Malfoy had not broken the kiss, the kiss that was sending the blood back through Harry's body in boiling cascades and causing him to clutch crazily at anything that would keep him from falling—like Malfoy's hips.
Malfoy was gifted beyond Harry's comprehension. His tongue found places in Harry's mouth that Harry hadn't realized were directly connected to his cock. He whimpered when Malfoy broke the kiss, but he forgave the blond when the t-shirt was yanked over his head and tossed to the floor, giving both gloved hands access to Harry's bare torso. A moment later, Malfoy's shirt joined Harry's and then those hands were back on his flesh where they belonged.
"Want these gloves, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy rasped and Harry leaned forward to capture his lips, knowing his shudder would be answer enough. He had never been so hard. The thought made him remember that his hands were curled hard around Malfoy's hipbones. He curved them around Malfoy's arse and dragged him closer, feeling a rush of satisfaction when Malfoy inhaled sharply. Dear Merlin, his hard cock against Harry's felt amazing and he pulled harder, grinding his hips forward into the blond.
Malfoy growled low in his throat and tore his lips from Harry's. "Jeans off," he demanded and moved his hands downward. Harry regretfully loosened his grip on Malfoy's arse, but did not let go. His eyes followed the path of Malfoy's hands as they struggled with the button on Harry's jeans. Gloves were difficult to manoeuvre around small fasteners, but the Slytherin seemed determined. Harry was momentarily distracted by the sight of Malfoy's perfect teeth worrying his lower lip, until the sound of the zipper sliding down in slow notches drew his attention back to his straining erection.
Malfoy's hands lifted, only to move outside of Harry's arms and take a firm grip on Harry's jeans in order to yank them down in a sharp motion. They fell to his knees and Harry belatedly noted that this would be a hell of a position to be caught in—they could only be doing one thing… That one thing returned to the forefront of his mind when Malfoy's gloved hands trailed up the outsides of Harry's thighs to curl beneath the hem of his boxers. Before he could as much as gasp, another sharp jerk brought those down as well. They settled atop the jeans, baring Harry completely to Malfoy's gaze, which seemed predatory and altogether tantalizing as he reared back slightly to look at Harry—all of Harry.
He held his breath until molten silver eyes returned to his and a pink tongue flicked out to touch swollen lips before Malfoy asked, "Gloves or no gloves?"
Harry had to clear his throat before he could utter the first words he had spoken since his arrival. "Gloves."
Malfoy's smile was brilliant. "Kinky, are we?" Before Harry could retort, a gloved hand wrapped around his cock and the only sound he could make was a strangled cry. Malfoy began to stroke. The leather was soft, but still rough enough to provide delicious friction. Harry was afraid he would come too soon—fuck, he was so close already!
His clenching hands provided a distraction, and he forced his attention from his imminent orgasm to the wonder that was Malfoy's arse. Harry tore at the briefs and sighed when his hands touched warm flesh. Malfoy's freed cock nudged against his and Harry gasped when Malfoy moaned. He realized only one hand stroked his cock in that—oh fucking Merlin—in that brilliant way, leaving the other free.
"Yours," he muttered mindlessly.
"Yes, that one is mine, Potter," Malfoy said in calm tones and Harry was suddenly jealous of the blond's ability to retain coherency.
"Stroke yours, too," Harry managed and Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise before he looked down. Their foreheads bumped for a moment and then rested together as Malfoy wrapped his other gloved hand around his own cock and stroked them side by side in unison. It was, without question, the hottest thing Harry had ever seen.
Sensation was building again, constructed by each amazing motion of Malfoy's fingers stroking, stroking, stroking. He dimly realized that Malfoy was doing all the work, so he let go of Malfoy's lovely arse with one hand in order to move the other forward. He carefully cupped Malfoy's balls and tugged at them gently. Malfoy's strangled cry was ample reward, so he did it again.
"Oh fuck, Potter, I'm—"
"Coming," Harry finished for him as they both exploded at once, shooting liquid haphazardly over Malfoy's gloves, Harry's arm, and both quivering abdomens. Harry didn't dare close his eyes as shudders of bliss wracked through him. He wanted to remember that sight forever. Malfoy kept his hands moving, milking every drop from them both.
His forehead slid away from Harry's only to rest against his shoulder. Harry had the bizarre urge to pull the blond closer, so he moved his hand from Malfoy's arse up his broad back sliding through the sweat gathered there. He nuzzled Malfoy's fine, damp hair.
"I think we need another shower," he joked quietly.
"Is that an invitation?" Malfoy mumbled into the space between them.
The thought of showering with Malfoy opened up another realm of possibility and Harry's spent cock twitched with anticipation, eager for another round. "Yes," he said thickly and Malfoy's head rose. He met Harry's gaze and then his lips curled into a smile.
"Last one to the shower is fucked," Malfoy said seductively and then slipped out of Harry's grasp. He walked away easily, stepping out of his briefs and striding along the corridor with his bare arse gleaming.
"Hey!" Harry called and nearly fell headlong as he struggled to move with his clothing tangled around his legs. "Malfoy!"
"Hurry up, Potter, I won't wait all night," he called. "But there are a few other things I'd like to do with these gloves."
He waggled a black-clad hand in the air. Harry tore at his clothing like a man possessed before racing after Malfoy and his damned incredible gloves.
~End, but just the beginning of the glovekink!~