Word Count: ~400
Warnings: professor/student, sexual fantasy
Challenge: hp_may_madness 2016 Day #9: beach, tequila, charm
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd.
Charlie's room was dark as he buried himself beneath a mound of blankets to stave off the winter chill. It was cold, but his blood ran hot as images of the day's flying session with Draco flickered through his head: Draco, eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, hair wild, expression teasing and triumphant as he snatched the Snitch out of the air. He'd been so beautiful. Charlie had ended up squeezing his broom handle so tight in an effort not to reach out that he'd gotten splinters.
His cock throbbed beneath the sheets, and Charlie slid a hand down to wrap around himself. He closed his eyes, desperate to try and conjure up a filthy fantasy that would banish thoughts of Draco from his mind.
With a flick of his wand, he summoned his favourite lube and poured some onto his palm. It had a faintly tropical scent that always made Charlie think of sun-kissed skin, sandy beaches, and the delicious holiday ritual of salt-tequila-lime. He closed his eyes and imagined himself on a sunny beach, how night would fall, and Charlie would head off to some shack of a bar to pick up a gorgeous surfer. Charlie worked his cock slowly as he imagined hands sliding over his skin, teeth scraping against his lips, a hard body rocking against him.
Somehow, without Charlie even noticing, the mystery bloke morphed into Draco, his skin tasting of lime and salt as Charlie licked his way up Draco's pale neck. Draco panted into his ear, a breathy "Please," and then they were both naked, Draco pressed against a wall, Charlie behind him, thrusting into him, fast and rough and wild, the both of them grunting and gasping, Draco's arse so hot and tight around Charlie's cock until finally he--
With a loud groan, Charlie came into his fist. He gave himself a few minutes to bask in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowing as Charlie tried to forget how incredible it was just imagining what fucking Draco would be like. If he ever had the chance to actually do it, Charlie thought he might possibly die from the pleasure.
Sighing, he reached for his wand to cast a cleaning charm over his sticky hand and sheets. He tried to suppress the slow swell of guilt over lusting after a student.
It was only a fantasy. Nothing more.