He was straight (or so he thought,) but he pondered about why couldn’t he stop thinking about Damien’s dick. His hand flew up and down as he pleasured his hard member. No response came. At that moment, all he wanted to do was bend the tall teen over his lap and finger fuck him. He was so close; he was reaching the end. He wasn’t reading like he usually did—much too late for that, and a nightlight would be too bright. Harry pulled himself up and kneeled on the bed, aiming at where he laid his boxers, and sped up, getting closer and closer and closer, still twisting, but faster and faster and faster. He pulled his boxers off and debated internally as he splayed them across the bed. No response came. He wasn’t reading like he usually did—much too late for that, and a nightlight would be too bright. His thoughts raced—there was he and Damien passionately kissing in potions class, both tugging at each other’s belts as they prepared—Damien sucking his cut cock, looking up
