InsaneJournal

Anyone for Dessert??
Regular Wankfest posting is now over! We're concluding the fest with this -- a special "bonus" piece sent in by a pair of especially enthusiastic participants. (Thanks, mystery author and artist!) Keep watching the comm; information on voting, awards, and fest reveals will be posted soon...


Vincent Crabbe on the Hogwarts Express with the Hand of Glory

Title: A Glorious Day for a Hand Job
Artist: venturous
Author: fbowden (FelicityBowden)
Character: Crabbe the Younger
Location: Hogwarts Express
Object: Hand of Glory
Other Characters: Vince Crabbe, with a splash of Goyle, Malfoy and Potter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Wanking. Slytherins.
Word Count: 768
Disclaimer: I don't own em, just play dirty. Not for profit.
Artist's/Author's Notes: --this was almost revolting to attempt, much less complete. But in the end, a good time was had by all. Artist is grateful that Author wanted to play along with this madness. Love to all participants and Wanking Mods for so much fabulous Wankiness!




A Glorious Day for a Hand Job

“I say we go and find Potter, give him a taste of what he’s in for this year,” Draco drawled, silver eyes lit up with amusement.

Goyle chuckled in amusement and nodded his approval, but Crabbe shook his head, wincing even as he did so knowing that Draco wouldn’t take his dissent well.

“What’s the matter with you?” Draco spat, “It’s ideal, he’s all alone in that carriage, I saw the Weasel and Mudblood going off to the Prefect’s carriage.”

“S’not that,” Crabbe mumbled, looking away, “My stomach hurts.”

To emphasize his point, he rubbed it tenderly and pulled a face.

“For God’s sakes, Vince, you’re such a pig, it’s disgusting. Well fine, stay here then. Greg and I can manage on our own.”

Draco and Goyle slid the door across and with a last roll of his eyes, Draco led them away.

Crabbe waited just a few seconds before leaning across to the vacant seat, and unzipping Draco’s hand luggage. There, as he’d expected, was the Hand of Glory Draco had been boasting about all summer. His father had promised it to him if he’d done well in his OWLs, and his friend, unlike him, had indeed passed them all.

Cautiously, he slipped his hand inside and drew it out, flinching slightly at the feel of the leathery skin, decayed and aged. Crabbe turned it over, examining the withered artefact, excited and drawn by the knowledge of its dark heritage.

A slow smile spread across his face as an idea formed. Casting a Disillusionment charm on the carriage, Crabbe unbuttoned his trousers and pulled his flaccid cock out, stroking it a few times with his own fingers while he cosidered using the leathery ones on the Hand of Glory. This caused his cock to perk up considerably, so he dragged the withered hand across his lengthening cock as it rose up, straining against his stomach.

Gasping at the roughened feel, he turned the Hand around so that he could slip his prick into the palm of it, shocked and excited by how different the calloused flesh felt compared to his own soft, pudgy hand.

Moving it experimentally, he grunted at the sensations it produced, idly wishing the Hand was smaller, so that it might cradle his erect flesh more firmly. With his own grip on the base of his cock, and his other hand guiding the mummified one, he built a steady rhythm.

He could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, the tingling in his balls and the deep coiling in the pit of his impressive stomach, urging the Hand faster and faster until-

Crabbe cried out in alarm as the gnarled fingers suddenly clamped around his cock, squeezing his flesh viciously. He let go, panicking for a moment, trying to pull it off but the vice like grip kept him firmly imprisoned. Looking around wildly, and then back down to his crotch, Crabbe noticed the hand jerking of its own accord, twisting and wanking him until the fiery feelings returned, replacing his panic. Giving himself over to pleasure, Crabbe braced his hands on either side of him and let his head fall back against the seat, biting his lip to stifled his excited groans and rasps. One boney finger stroked the underside of his thick, pulsating shaft, tickling his tightening balls. Clapping a hand across his mouth, he cried out as hot wet spurts of come sprayed across the carriage, so violently that it rained down on Draco’s leather bag, drips of white fluid leaking across the withered flesh until it glistened.

Mocking laughs were coming closer to the carriage, and Crabbe hurriedly pulled the now limp Hand off of his softening cock, and quickly Banished the evidence of his wanking, chucking the Dark Artefact back into Draco’s bag, barely managing to zip it back up before the carriage door flew open, and the triumphant two returned, full smirks plastered across their faces.

“That’ll teach Potter,” Draco pronounced, “dirty little queer.”

“What did you do?” Crabbe asked with mild disinterest; he was too busy worrying about the cooling come splattered across Draco’s bag that he’d forgotten to remove.

“Greg here held him down and I gave him what he’s always wanted. A face full of Malfoy seed.”

Draco laughed and Greg slapped him heartily on the shoulder.

“Shame you had to miss it,” he drawled, eyes narrowing as he noticed Crabbe’s reddened cheeks.

“Yeah, stomach still not good,” Crabbe mumbled.

Draco’s suspicious look disappeared, “Hmm. Anyway, who wants to see what Father got me for passing my OWLs?”

***