Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Aftermath

Draco took his time in the shower, attentively cleaning away the mixture of sweat and mud, that had coagulated on his skin. Straining to stand on exhausted limbs, he remained beneath the faucet, the stream of water pummelling his face, forcing his eyes shut. Tipping his head back, he clawed through the tangles Ophelia's fingers had woven into his hair. The trace – the proof – of her touch was devastating.

Why didn't I say anything? I could have fixed things in the moment? I could have corrected Pansy's lies!

But, maybe she should leave. Maybe she just needs an excuse to run. Because...because I deserve someone like Pansy, not her. 

Decide what you fucking want, he screamed internally.

He was furious – all that running had been for nothing. His thoughts were still dominated by her. Images of her sucking his thumb, or convulsing while she climaxed, taunted him. Stop it. Stop thinking about her.

Parting on bad terms had done nothing to remove the unspent tension between his legs. His cock had ached throughout practice. It still felt tender.

You're sick. You're twisted. But he couldn't wait – he couldn't be patient. The sound of her moans replaying in his head, as he slowly began to stroke.

Trying to mimic Ophelia's handling, he moved at a more sensual pace than normal. But his calloused fingers betrayed that fantasy.

Nothing would ever come close to her touch.

How the fuck are you wanking to the idea of her when she's mad at you? Fucking asshole. But he didn't stop. Instead, he jerked his hand faster. With rough, punishingly fast handling. He knew it wouldn't take long, he'd come close to combusting on too many occasions today.

He moaned at the thought of what this hand – the one pumping back and forth – had been doing earlier. He focused on the memory that these fingers had been inside of her pussy. Touching himself with traces of her sweet come.

Fuck – shit – his free hand braced against the wall as the tension shot from the base of his cock through to its tip, ejaculating the load he'd wanted to fill her with – put inside of her. Fuck.

Draco felt guilt and disgust as he re-washed his body. The evidence of his weakness disappearing down the plughole. This was routine for him, but it had felt desperately wrong to twist reality. While the images he used were true, they completely overlooked the aftermath. An aftermath he had only ignored so he could come – so he could climax.

Selfish – Fucking Weakling. Hiding in a shower rather than fixing things? She makes me this fucking crazy that I have to wank on my own? What has happened to me?

Draco couldn't explain exactly why this felt more wrong than all the times he'd concocted pretend scenarios in his head. Since the first day, she had owned every single orgasm. She could claim them since his pleasure revolved entirely around her.

First, he took time to imagine the details and lines of her body. Forced to be patient when he was only able to admire her shape from a distance. But slowly he began to accumulate more detail about her figure.

That's why he slipped up at the party, during Pansy's dance. He'd felt desperate to learn more, to uncover the truth. He didn't care that Blaise saw him. Let him get mad. I'm not going to stand by and let him have her to himself. He needs to know how desired she is.

Plagued by questions, as he tried to guess the size of her breasts, or the shade of her nipples. He grew weary of imagining her, when he knew it fell short of reality.