The changing room was a narrow, rectangular cavern of stone and wood that felt smaller than it had been an hour ago. Heat rose from the floorboards as Draconia sat on the wooden bench, her breath hitching in the humid air. Her skin felt tacky with sweat, and the heavy fabric of her jersey clung to her ribs in a way that made her want to scream. She reached down to tug at her shin pads, her fingers clumsy and trembling slightly as she peeled the protective gear away from her legs. Harry watched her from the edge of the bench, his eyes fixed on the way her muscles moved under her skin.
"You were brilliant," Harry said, his voice cutting through the dampness of the room. "Six goals, Draconia. Six."
"Don't start," she replied, though she was smiling. She pulled the jersey up, exposing her midriff to the cool air, but the air was not cool. The room was a pressure cooker of heat and the smell of damp earth and old wood.
"The score was ridiculous," he said, leaning closer until his shoulder nearly brushed hers. "You didn't even look like you were trying."
Draconia let out a sharp, jagged laugh and pulled the jersey over her head, leaving her in her bra and shorts. The fabric felt heavy and sodden against her skin. She turned to him, her eyes bright with the adrenaline of the win. "I was trying. I was trying very hard."
"It showed," Harry murmured, his hand reaching out to touch the hem of her shorts. "You were a force."
"Shut up," she said, but she did not move away. Instead, she leaned into his space, her heart hammering against her ribs.
He gripped the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down, his knuckles brushing against her skin. Draconia sat back, her legs splaying as he knelt between them. He worked the fabric down her hips, pushing the cotton over her thighs until it pooled around her ankles. She felt the sudden, sharp prickle of the air on her bare skin, and then the heat of his hands. He reached for her knickers next, pulling the thin silk down until her cunt was exposed to the dim light of the changing room.
"You're so beautiful when you're winning," Harry whispered. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the soft skin of her inner thigh, his tongue laving at the dampness of her slit.
Draconia groaned, her head falling back as she gripped the edge of the wooden bench. Her fingers dug into the wood, her nails catching on the grain. Harry moved his mouth upward, his lips wet and hot as he licked the sensitive flesh of her pussy. He buried his face in her, his nose brushing against her clitoris as he sucked the moisture from her. She felt the swell of her arousal, the way her cunt pulsed and throbbed against his tongue.
"Harry," she gasped, her hips bucking upward. "Fuck, Harry."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and focused. He reached for his own trousers, yanking them down to free his cock. It was thick and red, pulsing with his own heat. He rubbed the head of his cock against her soaking wet cunt, the friction of his skin against hers making her vision blur. He pushed inside her, a single, hard thrust that made her cry out.
"Fuck," he grunted, his voice low and rough. He began to fuck her, his hips moving in a rhythmic, brutal cadence. He drove his cock into her pussy, the blunt force of each stroke making her entire body shudder. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of her wetness filled the small space, a wet, slapping noise that echoed off the stone walls.
Draconia wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. She wanted him to hit her cervix, to drive into her until she could not think. He was hard and heavy inside her, and the sensation of his cock stretching her wide was almost too much to bear. She felt the tension building in her lower belly, a sharp, tight ache that demanded release.
"Harder," she commanded, her voice a jagged edge of sound. "Fuck me harder, Harry."
He obeyed, his movements becoming more frantic and less controlled. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her breasts as he drove himself into her. His cock felt enormous inside her, a solid weight that seemed to touch every nerve. She could feel the heat of him, the way his skin felt slick with sweat. He reached down and grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh to hold her steady as he pounded into her.
"You're so tight," he gasped, his breath hot against her neck. "Your pussy is so fucking tight around my cock."
"Don't stop," she hissed, her eyes squeezed shut. The world had narrowed down to the sensation of him filling her, the way his cock slid in and out of her wet, aching cunt. She felt the climax building, a coil of tension that threatened to snap.
He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming short and sharp. He was hitting her deep, and each time he did, she felt a jolt of pure electricity shoot up her spine. Her cunt was soaking, the juices of her arousal coating his cock as he moved. She could feel the pressure building, the need to scream and shake.
"I'm going to..." she started, her voice breaking.
"Do it," he whispered, his voice a command. "Come for me, Draconia."
She lost herself in the sensation, her walls contracting around him in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses. She felt her orgasm break over her, a wave of heat that started in her womb and radiated outward. She screamed his name, her body arching off the bench as her cunt gripped his cock with desperate, clenching movements. Harry let out a low, guttural sound and thrust one last time, his entire body tensing as he came inside her. He felt the warm, thick spray of his cum filling her, a heavy sensation that made her feel completely possessed.
He stayed inside her for a long moment, his forehead resting against hers as they both panted in the humid air. The silence of the room was heavy, broken only by their ragged breathing and the distant sound of footsteps in the corridor.
"That was..." Harry began, trying to find his voice.
"It was perfect," she interrupted, her voice soft and breathless.
She watched him as he pulled out of her, the sight of his drying cum on her thigh making her stomach flip. He reached for a cloth to clean himself, his movements slow and deliberate. The adrenaline from the match was beginning to fade, replaced by a heavy, satisfied lethargy.
Outside the door, the sound of the Slytherin team grew louder. They were singing a raucous, off-key song, their voices bouncing off the stone walls of the corridor. The sound was a jarring contrast to the intimacy of the moment, a reminder of the world that waited for them just beyond the wood.
"They're so loud," Harry muttered, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he heard a particularly loud shout from one of the players.
Draconia reached out and gripped his forearm, her fingers digging into his skin. She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed with a sudden, sharp intent.
"Be quiet," she whispered, her voice a command that brooked no argument. "Just be quiet for once."
The team was singing next door and she makes him be quiet, and being quiet is not something he has ever been good at.