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Title: The Second Last Night
Author: me
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Summary: yeah, too short, and it's late. See title for summary. *points upward*
Disclaimer: The HP world does not belong to me, nor does it make me money. All characters are above the age of 18.
Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
Previous parts:
The Arrangement ~ An Evening in August ~ Perfect Potter ~ In Comparison ~ Hypocritical (Hypocritical is f-locked due to rating, and is not especially crucial to the main storyline. It can also be found here.) ~ A Slight Dilemma ~ Table Talk ~ Contract Negotiations ~ Legionis Egeo ~ The Mishap ~ Draco Malfoy and the Extremely Distasteful Contract ~ Good Mornings ~ ...And Good Nights ~ The Estate Agent
Other stories in the universe: Six Months of Manchester
The Second Last Night
The curtains fluttered in the wind. The sound of a car buzzed gently down the street outside, and for once, Draco wasn’t making any noise.
But Harry could only hear one thing clearly. His right ear was pressed to warm, soft skin, and beneath it, as steady as the tick of a clock, Draco’s heart thumped, one-two, one-two. Tump-tump, tump-tump.
The hollow rush of breathing flowed up under Draco’s pulse. Elsewhere, Harry could hear the wind whistling, its pitch rising and falling as it howled over the roof. The arched ceiling above them was cupped in shadow. Draco’s sheets curled around Harry’s ankles in loose folds. He could feel the cool touch of Draco’s skin, the relaxed muscle of his thigh against his own, but heat flowed beneath and beat into Harry’s skin within the cold in an arresting twine of sensation. Harry shut his eyes and counted three slow breaths; then he trailed his hand down over the tensing muscles of his lover’s stomach and slipped his fingers around Draco. Began to stroke slowly.
He listened as Draco’s heart-rate climbed, slipping from tump-tump tump-tump to pit-pat-pit-pat-pitpatpitpat. Draco opened his mouth with a sudden exhalation; Harry felt the skin on his own arms ripple into a shiver. There was no control being forced over the heavy breathing, the unsteady heave of the warm chest under his cheek. There was nothing of the Draco everyone saw in broad daylight, none of the need for discretion or the desire for appearance. Draco breathed brokenly, audibly. It stirred the tips of Harry’s hair in soft rushes. Harry angled his head up until he could see Draco’s pale arm where it was raised over his head and damp with sheen, hand gripping the bedpost in a tight, white fist. Draco’s fingers clenched, loosened, and relocked around the post. Harry wanted to reach, to feel the taut stretch of the tendons there, to run his fingers over Draco’s skin.
Draco’s right knee lifted, the inside of his thigh pressing and trembling against Harry’s hand before dropping flat to the mattress again. His body shuddered, a deep ripple of clenching muscles that worked its way into his breathing and made it hitch. Harry closed his eyes again and pressed his ear to Draco’s chest.
His lover’s heart was hammering.
Draco let out a tiny hiss and Harry felt the arch coming, the swift, tight swell of Draco’s chest against his cheek. Some part of the bed creaked; Harry wrapped his hand tighter and stroked upward, short, fast jerks, and Draco’s breath completely stopped in the softest gasp he’d made yet. The only sound was the thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat.
It was a long fall, and Harry listened until Draco was shuddering quietly on the bed again, skin covered in gooseflesh, his breathing rapid and collective. Harry could feel the final tremors playing out under Draco’s flesh, in his hand where he still held Draco, and in his body where Draco pressed against him.
Harry sighed very gently, letting all of his muscles go slack. “Thank you,” he said.
Draco’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He dropped his arm over his eyes and shivered again. Harry looked up in time to watch his throat ripple as he swallowed.
“Last time I agree to be silent for a while,” Draco managed. “You understand.”
Harry flattened his hand over Draco’s bare, sweaty chest and pressed his lips to his lover’s skin.
“So.” Draco’s voice was a little clearer. “Get off on heartbeats, do you?”
Harry shrugged. “Suspected I did.”
“I’m worried my room might feel cheated,” was Draco’s glib and tired reply.
They’d bid goodbye to Harry’s flat the previous night, all empty rooms with echoing sounds, and Harry’s bed creaking in the middle of his bedroom as Draco sucked him off and then wrapped Harry around him and shagged him into the headboard. There had certainly been no silence then. Harry’s request tonight had surprised both of them, it seemed.
Draco let out another sigh and slid a hand down Harry’s back, coming to rest just over his hip. “Last orgasm I’ll ever have in this room,” he said. His tone was thoughtful.
Harry nodded. Draco’s fingers tapped gently over his hip, just the loose, absent motion of pensiveness.
“You liked what you heard?”
“I liked hearing you come,” Harry answered simply. There wasn’t anything to add to it, really. It was the truth; but ‘like’ was not a large enough word for what he’d felt the instant Draco’s body had tightened that last, final inch, the sense of tensing not only under his fingers but in Draco’s heartbeat as well. Gods, he wanted to hear it again, because he couldn’t even begin to define what he’d heard.
“Well.” Draco stretched his arms and legs out so sinuously that Harry heard the light pop of tendons. “I always like hearing you come.” His hand settled on Harry’s back and rubbed lightly, then harder. “Merlin. You’re cold.”
Harry nodded absently. Draco’s heartbeat was still slowing, returning to its normal, steady rhythm. Harry squeezed his fingers at Draco’s side as another shiver threatened, and Draco shifted.
“Want the blanket? Harry.”
Harry could feel Draco’s gaze, feel his fingers brushing tenderly over his shoulder as if tracing symbols. He raised his head slowly, looking at the flutter-pulse in Draco’s throat, and then up at the other man’s face. Draco’s expression morphed, his brow creasing and his eyes flickering. He gazed at Harry for several seconds before saying quietly, “Founders, what did you hear?”
Harry pursed his lips and blinked, worked his mouth. Draco studied him a little longer.
“Hmm,” he said finally with a lifted eyebrow, “maybe next time you’ll have to be the quiet one, then.”
Harry gazed at his lover for a long while, until he could see the questions rising again in Draco’s darkened grey eyes. “Say the word.”
Draco smiled at him curiously and smoothed his hand down Harry’s side once more. Harry lowered himself back down and wrapped his arm tightly around Draco’s waist. Draco continued to stroke his skin, light caresses of fingertips; Harry filled his nose with Draco’s scent, the scent of the room they were about to leave for good, and shut his eyes.
...
Part 16: House Warming
Author: me
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R
Summary: yeah, too short, and it's late. See title for summary. *points upward*
Disclaimer: The HP world does not belong to me, nor does it make me money. All characters are above the age of 18.
Also posted on AO3 and skyehawke.
...
Previous parts:
The Arrangement ~ An Evening in August ~ Perfect Potter ~ In Comparison ~ Hypocritical (Hypocritical is f-locked due to rating, and is not especially crucial to the main storyline. It can also be found here.) ~ A Slight Dilemma ~ Table Talk ~ Contract Negotiations ~ Legionis Egeo ~ The Mishap ~ Draco Malfoy and the Extremely Distasteful Contract ~ Good Mornings ~ ...And Good Nights ~ The Estate Agent
Other stories in the universe: Six Months of Manchester
The Second Last Night
The curtains fluttered in the wind. The sound of a car buzzed gently down the street outside, and for once, Draco wasn’t making any noise.
But Harry could only hear one thing clearly. His right ear was pressed to warm, soft skin, and beneath it, as steady as the tick of a clock, Draco’s heart thumped, one-two, one-two. Tump-tump, tump-tump.
The hollow rush of breathing flowed up under Draco’s pulse. Elsewhere, Harry could hear the wind whistling, its pitch rising and falling as it howled over the roof. The arched ceiling above them was cupped in shadow. Draco’s sheets curled around Harry’s ankles in loose folds. He could feel the cool touch of Draco’s skin, the relaxed muscle of his thigh against his own, but heat flowed beneath and beat into Harry’s skin within the cold in an arresting twine of sensation. Harry shut his eyes and counted three slow breaths; then he trailed his hand down over the tensing muscles of his lover’s stomach and slipped his fingers around Draco. Began to stroke slowly.
He listened as Draco’s heart-rate climbed, slipping from tump-tump tump-tump to pit-pat-pit-pat-pitpatpitpat. Draco opened his mouth with a sudden exhalation; Harry felt the skin on his own arms ripple into a shiver. There was no control being forced over the heavy breathing, the unsteady heave of the warm chest under his cheek. There was nothing of the Draco everyone saw in broad daylight, none of the need for discretion or the desire for appearance. Draco breathed brokenly, audibly. It stirred the tips of Harry’s hair in soft rushes. Harry angled his head up until he could see Draco’s pale arm where it was raised over his head and damp with sheen, hand gripping the bedpost in a tight, white fist. Draco’s fingers clenched, loosened, and relocked around the post. Harry wanted to reach, to feel the taut stretch of the tendons there, to run his fingers over Draco’s skin.
Draco’s right knee lifted, the inside of his thigh pressing and trembling against Harry’s hand before dropping flat to the mattress again. His body shuddered, a deep ripple of clenching muscles that worked its way into his breathing and made it hitch. Harry closed his eyes again and pressed his ear to Draco’s chest.
His lover’s heart was hammering.
Draco let out a tiny hiss and Harry felt the arch coming, the swift, tight swell of Draco’s chest against his cheek. Some part of the bed creaked; Harry wrapped his hand tighter and stroked upward, short, fast jerks, and Draco’s breath completely stopped in the softest gasp he’d made yet. The only sound was the thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat.
It was a long fall, and Harry listened until Draco was shuddering quietly on the bed again, skin covered in gooseflesh, his breathing rapid and collective. Harry could feel the final tremors playing out under Draco’s flesh, in his hand where he still held Draco, and in his body where Draco pressed against him.
Harry sighed very gently, letting all of his muscles go slack. “Thank you,” he said.
Draco’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He dropped his arm over his eyes and shivered again. Harry looked up in time to watch his throat ripple as he swallowed.
“Last time I agree to be silent for a while,” Draco managed. “You understand.”
Harry flattened his hand over Draco’s bare, sweaty chest and pressed his lips to his lover’s skin.
“So.” Draco’s voice was a little clearer. “Get off on heartbeats, do you?”
Harry shrugged. “Suspected I did.”
“I’m worried my room might feel cheated,” was Draco’s glib and tired reply.
They’d bid goodbye to Harry’s flat the previous night, all empty rooms with echoing sounds, and Harry’s bed creaking in the middle of his bedroom as Draco sucked him off and then wrapped Harry around him and shagged him into the headboard. There had certainly been no silence then. Harry’s request tonight had surprised both of them, it seemed.
Draco let out another sigh and slid a hand down Harry’s back, coming to rest just over his hip. “Last orgasm I’ll ever have in this room,” he said. His tone was thoughtful.
Harry nodded. Draco’s fingers tapped gently over his hip, just the loose, absent motion of pensiveness.
“You liked what you heard?”
“I liked hearing you come,” Harry answered simply. There wasn’t anything to add to it, really. It was the truth; but ‘like’ was not a large enough word for what he’d felt the instant Draco’s body had tightened that last, final inch, the sense of tensing not only under his fingers but in Draco’s heartbeat as well. Gods, he wanted to hear it again, because he couldn’t even begin to define what he’d heard.
“Well.” Draco stretched his arms and legs out so sinuously that Harry heard the light pop of tendons. “I always like hearing you come.” His hand settled on Harry’s back and rubbed lightly, then harder. “Merlin. You’re cold.”
Harry nodded absently. Draco’s heartbeat was still slowing, returning to its normal, steady rhythm. Harry squeezed his fingers at Draco’s side as another shiver threatened, and Draco shifted.
“Want the blanket? Harry.”
Harry could feel Draco’s gaze, feel his fingers brushing tenderly over his shoulder as if tracing symbols. He raised his head slowly, looking at the flutter-pulse in Draco’s throat, and then up at the other man’s face. Draco’s expression morphed, his brow creasing and his eyes flickering. He gazed at Harry for several seconds before saying quietly, “Founders, what did you hear?”
Harry pursed his lips and blinked, worked his mouth. Draco studied him a little longer.
“Hmm,” he said finally with a lifted eyebrow, “maybe next time you’ll have to be the quiet one, then.”
Harry gazed at his lover for a long while, until he could see the questions rising again in Draco’s darkened grey eyes. “Say the word.”
Draco smiled at him curiously and smoothed his hand down Harry’s side once more. Harry lowered himself back down and wrapped his arm tightly around Draco’s waist. Draco continued to stroke his skin, light caresses of fingertips; Harry filled his nose with Draco’s scent, the scent of the room they were about to leave for good, and shut his eyes.
...
Part 16: House Warming
