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Feeling much more chipper today, as evidenced by the fact that I want to write again! Always a good sign.
I don't have a title for this one, as it is fairly short. But it is Harry/Draco, because I love them so.
DISCLAIMER: Boys aren't mine. They are JK's. Contains SLASH.
~~
The first night Draco asked him to stay afterward was startling, and a bit of a conundrum.
Harry wanted it to be drowsy murmurings, the talk that spills from a person when he or she is on the brink of sleep. Something to smile at and ultimately ignore because it is never really meant to be uttered. Except Draco was looking at him with clear eyes free from the cowl of dreams, reaching for him with a hand still trembling from their recent activities. Harry found himself easily distracted by this tiny shiver in Draco's limbs. Surely it happened all the time; he had simply neglected to notice.
There weren't any words, not really. Just a hand in the gloom of the bed hangings, and Harry allowed himself to climb back under the sheets in a dreamlike state of his own. And just like that... the shaking stopped, and the proffered hand slid smoothly around Harry's waist, guiding him down until his body was again at rest on white cotton.
Harry wanted sleep. He should go to his room, back to the undisturbed red Gryffindor quilt. Back to the soft snores of his roommates, tiptoeing, hoping fervently that he could make it into one of his recurring dreams before one of them awoke and asked him where he had been.
He thought Draco might want another go, maybe not now, but later on, an hour, perhaps. He never stayed except for that, because he knew Draco sometimes desired a few in one night. Not that Harry couldn't, just... tonight he was tired, so tired. It felt good to lie back against the soft give of the mattress, to feel fevered body heat next to him, and something very much like a nuzzle against his already mussed hair... but this, this was not a place for sleep. Not his sleep, anyway. Certainly not a place to be undisturbed.
Draco sighed against his cheek, a wordless breath, and Harry waited for the silky stroke of fingers down his side, or the lingering build of kisses along his jaw. He knew those, expected those, rose to them. Draco always gave them, silently, patiently, demandingly... how could anyone be patient and demanding at once? Another conundrum. He felt lips on his face, soft, warm, patient... and gone.
Draco's breathing deepened.
Harry lay there, his whole body rigid, even after Draco dropped off into passive sleep, certain that should he drift off, he would be awakened by demanding teasing touches, expectant kisses. Hunger un-satiated. Draco had never shown satiation, not once in four weeks. Harry left when he was tired, silently, and Draco always let him go, silently, but this time... this time...
He lay there rigid. Stay awake, this is not a sleeping place. Not for you. This was a place for many things, apparently. Many heated things. Harry came here willingly, but it all belonged to Draco here. Draco's bed hangings. Draco's soft cotton sheets. Draco's low whispers. Draco's rousing touches. Draco's whims. Draco's. Draco's.
Draco's.
When Harry awoke, it was to silence. To stillness. Warm light glowing through green curtains. There was a thin strong heat over his chest, encased in pale skin and feather-fine golden hair. Harry focused on Draco's arm where it rested across his body, gradually discovered the gentle curl of fingers around his waist. Heard soft easy breathing. Harry moved instinctively in the luxuriousness of it, not quite understanding it, and Draco's body shifted to follow, arms sliding around him more firmly, surrounding him with sleepy warmth. One tiny clutch, as if trying to hold him there, and the breathy settling sigh of a dreamer.
Harry's mind offered the whisper ease and he discovered his body was way ahead of him. He settled back, eyes on Draco's serene face. Cream skin, dark curving brows, nostrils flaring gently with each indrawn breath. Long lashes closed over eyes that had darkened in passion more than Harry had thought possible in the dim light of this bed. He did not doubt that they were soft grey now, and he found himself thinking he would have liked to see the color in this shaft of morning light.
But sleep intervened. Harry slid into warm comforting darkness, went willingly, cocooned in patient, undemanding heat.
A place to sleep.
~~
In other news, I saw something kind of funky today while walking a dog whose family I am house-sitting for: I walked past a brick house with two white columns in the front, and a top triangular piece that looked very Grecian in style... except that the door between the columns was off-center. Off-center! How weird is that? You'd think that if they were going to go to all the trouble of putting up columns and matching them with a white door, and constructing this marvelous triangular top-piece, they could at least center the door between the two columns so that it doesn't look all lopsided.
All in all, an odd experience.
I don't have a title for this one, as it is fairly short. But it is Harry/Draco, because I love them so.
DISCLAIMER: Boys aren't mine. They are JK's. Contains SLASH.
~~
The first night Draco asked him to stay afterward was startling, and a bit of a conundrum.
Harry wanted it to be drowsy murmurings, the talk that spills from a person when he or she is on the brink of sleep. Something to smile at and ultimately ignore because it is never really meant to be uttered. Except Draco was looking at him with clear eyes free from the cowl of dreams, reaching for him with a hand still trembling from their recent activities. Harry found himself easily distracted by this tiny shiver in Draco's limbs. Surely it happened all the time; he had simply neglected to notice.
There weren't any words, not really. Just a hand in the gloom of the bed hangings, and Harry allowed himself to climb back under the sheets in a dreamlike state of his own. And just like that... the shaking stopped, and the proffered hand slid smoothly around Harry's waist, guiding him down until his body was again at rest on white cotton.
Harry wanted sleep. He should go to his room, back to the undisturbed red Gryffindor quilt. Back to the soft snores of his roommates, tiptoeing, hoping fervently that he could make it into one of his recurring dreams before one of them awoke and asked him where he had been.
He thought Draco might want another go, maybe not now, but later on, an hour, perhaps. He never stayed except for that, because he knew Draco sometimes desired a few in one night. Not that Harry couldn't, just... tonight he was tired, so tired. It felt good to lie back against the soft give of the mattress, to feel fevered body heat next to him, and something very much like a nuzzle against his already mussed hair... but this, this was not a place for sleep. Not his sleep, anyway. Certainly not a place to be undisturbed.
Draco sighed against his cheek, a wordless breath, and Harry waited for the silky stroke of fingers down his side, or the lingering build of kisses along his jaw. He knew those, expected those, rose to them. Draco always gave them, silently, patiently, demandingly... how could anyone be patient and demanding at once? Another conundrum. He felt lips on his face, soft, warm, patient... and gone.
Draco's breathing deepened.
Harry lay there, his whole body rigid, even after Draco dropped off into passive sleep, certain that should he drift off, he would be awakened by demanding teasing touches, expectant kisses. Hunger un-satiated. Draco had never shown satiation, not once in four weeks. Harry left when he was tired, silently, and Draco always let him go, silently, but this time... this time...
He lay there rigid. Stay awake, this is not a sleeping place. Not for you. This was a place for many things, apparently. Many heated things. Harry came here willingly, but it all belonged to Draco here. Draco's bed hangings. Draco's soft cotton sheets. Draco's low whispers. Draco's rousing touches. Draco's whims. Draco's. Draco's.
Draco's.
When Harry awoke, it was to silence. To stillness. Warm light glowing through green curtains. There was a thin strong heat over his chest, encased in pale skin and feather-fine golden hair. Harry focused on Draco's arm where it rested across his body, gradually discovered the gentle curl of fingers around his waist. Heard soft easy breathing. Harry moved instinctively in the luxuriousness of it, not quite understanding it, and Draco's body shifted to follow, arms sliding around him more firmly, surrounding him with sleepy warmth. One tiny clutch, as if trying to hold him there, and the breathy settling sigh of a dreamer.
Harry's mind offered the whisper ease and he discovered his body was way ahead of him. He settled back, eyes on Draco's serene face. Cream skin, dark curving brows, nostrils flaring gently with each indrawn breath. Long lashes closed over eyes that had darkened in passion more than Harry had thought possible in the dim light of this bed. He did not doubt that they were soft grey now, and he found himself thinking he would have liked to see the color in this shaft of morning light.
But sleep intervened. Harry slid into warm comforting darkness, went willingly, cocooned in patient, undemanding heat.
A place to sleep.
~~
In other news, I saw something kind of funky today while walking a dog whose family I am house-sitting for: I walked past a brick house with two white columns in the front, and a top triangular piece that looked very Grecian in style... except that the door between the columns was off-center. Off-center! How weird is that? You'd think that if they were going to go to all the trouble of putting up columns and matching them with a white door, and constructing this marvelous triangular top-piece, they could at least center the door between the two columns so that it doesn't look all lopsided.
All in all, an odd experience.
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Date: 2009-02-20 05:41 am (UTC)From: