分卷阅读12（1 / 2）

“You don’t need my approval,” Draco snapped, trying to sit still, even though the warmth, radiating from Potter’s arm, was making him want to scream.

“No, I don’t,” Potter said, resuming to drum his fingers against the chair. “But I’d like to know what you think.”

Draco snorted. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

Potter let out a sigh. “I’m trying to be nice here, Draco, but you’re making it extremely hard.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” Blaise chuckled. That bastard!

Draco lowered his head and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead to show how fed up with Blaise he was, but also to hide the crimson flames he could feel on his cheeks.

“Is it me being nice?” Potter whispered.

“What?”

“Is me being nice what’s making you so uncomfortable?”

Draco’s head snapped up again. “What makes you think I’m uncomfortable? I’m perfectly at ease.”

“Right,” Potter said, obviously not convinced. Draco forced his body to relax. He even sagged down in his seat a little. The corner of Potter’s mouth twitched as he watched Draco slide down lower and lower. “Okay, okay, you’re perfectly at ease,” he laughed.

Draco couldn’t keep his lips from stretching into a smile as well. Right before he slipped off the chair completely, he hoisted himself up. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and, for a second, he wondered if Potter knew how intoxicated he really was. He was giving him a strange look.

“What?” Draco asked.

“Um…nothing,” Potter said. His leg twitched and it took Draco almost ten fucking seconds until he asked himself why he could feel Potter’s leg twitch. He looked down at the appalling grey jeans. Wait. Why was his hand on those jeans? WAIT! WHY was his hand ON POTTER’S THIGH? Fuck! Draco wanted to die right there and then. What should he do now? Withdraw his hand, obviously. But snatching it away as though he’d been burnt seemed a) childish and b) too revealing. Yes, he would slowly, very very slowly, slide his hand down, as if it was deliberate and—Wait, no. WHAT WAS HE DOING? Fuck, and now Potter was looking at him as though…as though…

“Do you need help with that?” a low voice breathed against Draco’s ear. Draco jumped.

“Blaise, you fucking bastard,” he bellowed, and he probably would have hexed him on the spot, if…well, if his hand hadn’t been pressed against Potter’s crotch. “Oh fuck,” Draco hissed, snatching his hand away. His eyes inadvertently locked with Potter’s. “S—Sorry,” Draco mumbled, suddenly feeling numb.

He had just touched Potter’s cock. POTTER’S COCK! HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN!

“It was an accident,” Potter said, and it didn’t escape Draco’s notice that his voice sounded raspier than before. “Unless…it wasn’t.”

As though those words had triggered something in Draco’s body, he immediately started to cough. “In your dreams, Potter,” he choked. He heard Blaise chuckle beside him.

“Pfft, as if, Malfoy,” Potter retorted, squaring his shoulders.