a Whole Lotta Smut

merlin, im horny.

merlin , im horny.

I thought this would be easier, but my body seems to have other ideas. It certainly dosent help that potter looks so...masculine. His broad shoulders, the way his shirt sleeve sare rolled up over his forearms, that arse encased in denim. Even if he wasnt here, dressed in that rediuculous outfit, i know what he does for a living. Theres just a look about a man that works with his whole body.

I have to stop staring. Hell notice any minute, and then ill look like a twat. Its not thst hes doing anythjing terribly fascinating. Hes just lifting sacks of soil that look to be as heavy as i am, his muscles rippling beneath the thin meaterael of that hideous looking flannel and the t-shirt bellow it. His hair is only long enough to be tied into a sloppy knot at the back of his skull and hes dripping sweat, despite the mid afternoon. Really, theres no excuse for my attention.

“Haven’t you go anything to do Malfoy?” he asks, not bothering to look at me. Which is for the best, i dont need him seeing the flush that washes over my face.

“How would i ensure you do the job properly if i dont watch you?” i snap, crossing my arms over my chest and squaring my shoulders.

“You could trust me and my references.” he lifts another sack to his shoulder and strides to the flowerbeds. “Its not as if this is my first job, you know.”

“I prefer to keep an eye on my investments.” i counter. Its a thin excuse, but i think ill stick with it.

Chuckling, Potter drops the sack onto the growing pile and turns to face me. He grins and shrugs out of his flannel, tugging it off of his arms. Then he crosses his arms at his waist, fingers grasping at the hem of his t-shirt and smirks. In one swift motion, he lifts the material up and over his heas and my tetuorious cock jerks, reminding me that its already hard.

Turning, i march backto the manor, despreate to get away.”just dont fuck it up, Potter.” i call, and his laughter fallows me across the grounds.

-

Its been a week since potter agreed to render his services. A week from his intil visit to the manor to esses the grounds and existing garden, startling me with his immense presents in such a place.

Now, hes been on my proper for days, all six feet, rough-and-tumble man, slinging manure and pulling weeds. Im at a loss of what to do with myself. Ive been hiding inside since that first day, but i still watch him, i cant seem to stop. Ive tried distracting myself with work, it isnt working. I want to wank, but im almost certain that he’ll smell it on me, if i do. 

Shoving away from the desk in which is now my study, i pace to the window. I can see him, bent at the waist as he digs in the earth wirth his bare hands, like an animal. Its as if he forgets hes a wizard and that shouldent turn me on as much as it does. Suddenly, he strightens, the dark skin of his bare chest- he almost never wears a shirt anymore-glistening in the midmorning sun. before i can brace myself for it, water is streaming over his face an shoulders, orginaiting from seemingly nowhere as he must of cast a wandless aguamenti, and my knees go weak.

I catch myself on the windowsill, before a resulting crash can catch his attenion. Gods, what is he doing?

His hands, big and workworn, are sliding over his chest and shoulders, down to his abdomen and around his hips, as if hes taking a sjhowe. I cant breath. I can imagine those hands on me, calluses scraping over the sensitive skin of my stomach and thighs, his delicious stubble burning my chest as he closes that insolent mouth over my nipples.

Fuck.

Reaching down, i wrestle blindly wirh the flies of my trousers. I cant take it anymore, im so hard. A groan escapes my throat as i close over the neglected flesh. squeezimg , i brace one hand on the sill, my eyes still glues to potter. He shouldent be allowed, he should go before he catches me watching him again.