The changing room was empty of people but full of the ghosts of their victory. Draconia stood by the metal lockers, her fingers tracing the cold, scratched surface of the dented steel. Harry stood before her, his breathing heavy and uneven in the small space. He held her broom in his right hand, the wood smooth and familiar against his palm. The weight of the broom seemed to anchor him while she leaned back, pressing her palms against the lockers behind her.
"You look like you are still catching your breath from the pitch," Draconia said. Her voice was low, stripped of the performative loudness she had used to celebrate the win.
Harry stepped closer, the broom tilting as he moved. "I am not catching my breath from the match. You know that."
"I know you are a terrible liar," she replied. She reached out, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his shorts. "You are a terrible liar and an even worse strategist."
"I am a decent strategist when it counts," Harry said. He set the broom down against the locker, but he did not let go of the handle. He used it to steady himself as he crowded into her space.
Draconia pulled him forward by the waistband. The friction of his skin against her thighs was sharp and sudden. She wanted the roughness of it. She wanted the grit of the match to remain on them. She reached down, her hand sliding inside his shorts to find his cock. It was already hard, a thick, pulsing length of heat that she gripped firmly. She moved her thumb over the head of his cock, feeling the slickness of his pre-cum coating her skin.
"Is that your best move?" she asked, her eyes locked on his.
Harry groaned, a low sound that vibrated in his chest. He dropped the broom to the floor with a dull thud and gripped her hips instead. He pushed his cock against her clitoris, rubbing the length of himself against her wet pussy. Draconia arched her back, her spine pressing into the dented metal of the locker. She felt the wetness of her own cunt soaking her knickers, the heat of it spreading up her thighs.
"My best move is yet to come," Harry muttered. He fumbled with the tie of her robes, pushing the fabric aside until he could reach her skin. He knelt before her, his knees hitting the hard floor of the changing room. He pulled her knickers down, exposing her pussy to the cool air of the room. He used his fingers to spread her labia, peering at the pink, swollen flesh of her cunt. He began to rub his thumb into her slit, circling the entrance before sliding a finger deep inside her.
Draconia gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders to keep herself upright. "Harry, if you are too slow, I will lose my patience."
"You have no patience," he said, leaning forward to lick the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He found her clitoris with his tongue, lapping at the wetness that coated her. He worked his fingers in and out of her pussy, making the wet, squelching sounds of his entry fill the silence. He wanted her to be ready for him. He wanted to fill her until she could not think of anything else.
Harry stood up, his face flushed with heat. He unfastened his trousers and freed his cock, which was thick and rigid. He positioned the head of his cock at her opening, rubbing the tip against her pussy to coat it in her own juices. Draconia watched him, her breath hitching as he pushed the head of his cock into her. He entered her slowly, the width of him stretching her walls. She felt the heavy pressure of him as he slid deeper, his cock filling her entirely.
"Fuck," she whispered, the word catching in her throat.
He began to fuck her in earnest, his movements long and rhythmic. He held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drove his cock into her cunt. The sound of his pelvis hitting her was a rhythmic slap of skin on skin. Draconia wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting the friction to be more intense. He withdrew almost all the way before plunging back in, his cock sliding through the slickness of her pussy with a wet, heavy sound.
"Harder," she commanded, her head tossing back against the metal lockers. "Do not be gentle, Harry. You never are."
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming faster and more brutal. He gripped the broom again, using it to brace himself as he drove himself into her. Each stroke of his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through her, a sharp, stinging heat that made her want to scream. He was hitting her cervix with every deep thrust, the blunt force of his cock making her vision blur. She felt the tightness of her pussy clenching around him, trying to pull him deeper into her.
"You're so tight," Harry groaned, his voice strained with effort. He watched the way her cunt gripped his shaft, the wet pink flesh swallowing the length of him. He felt the heat of her, the way her pussy pulsed around his cock with every movement. He drove into her one last time, a deep, punishing thrust that reached the very back of her.
Draconia felt the climax building, a frantic, uncontrollable tension in her lower abdomen. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. As he thrust into her, she felt her pussy walls contract violently around his cock. She cried out, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. The sensation of him fucking her was too much, the friction of his cock against her clitoris driving her over the edge.
"Six goals," she gasped, her voice breaking as she felt the first wave of her release. "Six goals and you still can't score."
The words fell between them, a jagged, beautiful truth. Harry did not stop; he pressed harder, his movements frantic as he felt her pussy clenching around him. He felt his own orgasm approaching, the pressure in his groin becoming unbearable. He drove his cock into her one last time, a heavy, singular thrust that seemed to anchor them to the floor. He felt his cum build at the base of his cock, the heat of it ready to burst. He pushed himself into her, his hips slamming against hers as he came. He felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum shooting deep into her pussy, filling her with the warmth of his release.
They stayed there for a moment, both of them panting, the only sound the heavy rhythm of their lungs. The broom lay forgotten on the floor, a silent witness to the heat of the room.