Tale Kayler (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
talekayler) wrote2011-05-15 10:10 pm
talekayler) wrote2011-05-15 10:10 pm
Precipice: On the Edge
Title: Precipice: On the Edge (pt 1 of 2)
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, eventually
Word Count: 2726
Rating: R
Summary: A slow acting curse puts events into motion much quicker then they were meant to be. Time is an intricate thing.
A/N: Based off of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skriftlig’s prompt of ‘carpet burn’. Somehow, this came out. *head desks* They didn’t want carpet burn, and things between these two are destined to always be complicated. Le sigh. Anyways, all mistakes are my own!
--
Merlin, it hurt.
Harry writhed on the floor, clenching his eyes shut and twisting, trying to get away from the contact. Impossible, he knew, when what he was trying to get away from was himself.
He tore at his clothing, trying to get the fabric away from his skin. It just made his hands hurt more. In desperation, he rubbed against the carpet, hoping the friction would manage to undo the clasps; all it ended up doing was press his robes closer to his body, enhancing contact he didn’t want. He whimpered.
On the edge of his awareness, he was able to distinguish someone speaking as they tried spell after spell. Harry didn’t know what they were, didn’t care. Not when he was far more concerned with trying to get away from his clothes, the fabric of which seemed to burn his skin, the threads brushing against and agitating marks he knew weren’t there.
There was a curse, and Harry felt the vibrations as someone dropped to their knees beside him, saying something about Aurors and slow acting spells and idiots. Harry didn’t care though, clawing at the clasps on his cloak that were far too sturdy, pain shooting thorugh his hands from his efforts. He arched his back, trying to ease the pressure there, trying to get away from the material.
It was like they had been charmed to deliver pain, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.
But now there were hands, unhooking the clasps and parting the fabric. Harry increased his efforts, clawing at the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath. He managed to rip a fair few off before his arms were caught, the sleeves of his robe catching on his elbows.
He screamed.
He was rolled over, thrashing, and the cloak torn from his back. He could have cried with relief, if there was still too many clothes on him, rubbing against his skin and making it burn, thousands upon thousands of pinpricks.
There was cool air, though, when he was rolled over, right on his chest where he had managed to tear off the buttons there. He tried to focus on that as hands attacked the rest of the buttons, eventually ripping the shirt open and sending the rest of the buttons flying. He was dragged up and his shirt pulled off to be tossed far away. Harry could have sobbed with relief. Instead, he pushed at the waist of his trousers, indicating that those had to come off too.
He had enough presence of mind now to kick off his shoes as his belt was undone. He toed off his socks as the zip of his trousers was lowered, wincing as the material dug in between his toes. He managed to get first one, then the other sock off. His trousers were lowered a moment later, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He pushed at his y-fronts, getting them down to his knees and kicked them off and away from him. Hopefully they landed in the fire.
Harry closed his eyes, gulping down fresh air and feeling whole and pleasantly warm, as if he was on the verge of falling asleep.
“Potter?”
Harry opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly and trying to figure out why his vision was blurry. Ah, glasses. Must be at the other end of the room, lying shattered beside the wall. He distantly recalled throwing them off his face.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice a little gravely. He coughed.
“Slow acting spell,” Draco explained, for that surely must be who was kneeling beside Harry. His clothes were a little rumpled as well, and he seemed to be staring fixedly at Harry’s face. “Turns the clothes of the wearer against them, imbibes them with a spell not unlike a lesser version of the Cruciatus.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Does this mean I have to walk around naked now?”
Despite not having his glasses, he was able to make out Draco’s smirk. Instead of angering him now, as it used to during their school years, it was now a comfort, something Draco only gave to him. It helped that it wasn’t as biting anymore, and held no ill will. “No, just those clothes. Not that I would mind otherwise,” he finished in an undertone. “Anyways, you’re lucky I followed you home, Potter.”
“You always follow me home,” Harry said, and tried sitting up. His head spun and he shot out an arm, grasping onto Draco’s shoulder and trying to keep himself upright. He shuddered.
“Yes, and be glad for it,” Draco said, placing a hand on Harry’s back.
“I am,” Harry mumbled, trying to fight off his dizziness. “Lots of – of good times.”
“You’ve never been naked, though,” Draco said, giving in and dropping his gaze to Harry’s lap. “I like this new change.”
Harry flushed and put a hand in his lap, trying to cover himself. Draco smirked at his efforts and went to fetch a blanket. He tossed it to Harry, who gratefully covered himself, hoping it would fight off the rising shudders. Going over to where Harry’s glasses had landed in a mess of shards, Draco repaired them with a quick tap of his wand and handed them over to Harry.
“Thanks,” he said, sliding them into place.
“Tea?” Draco asked, and moved through to the kitchen.
Harry grumbled as he followed behind Draco on shaking legs and said, “I think I’d prefer something a bit stronger, to be honest.”
Draco sniffed as he sorted through Harry’s cupboards. “The stuff you have here is swill.”
“I still have the bottle you left here after the Morris case,” Harry offered. “And it’s not swill,” he defended.
“Whatever you say. Where is it?” Draco stood on his tiptoes, reaching towards the back. Harry found himself eyeing Draco’s rear, watching as the muscles of his buttocks and thighs worked under trousers that clung perfectly to his form. “Potter?” he asked over his shoulder.
Harry started and tore his eyes away. “Um, next one over.” He gestured and collapsed into a chair at the table, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The rest formed a puddle in his lap, for which he was thankful.
Draco found the bottle with a muffled ‘Ah-ha!’ and withdrew, looking victorious and clutching a bottle of Mr Snoozewacker’s Finest Blend. He Summoned a pair of glasses and poured a healthy measure in each, setting down the first before Harry. Harry tossed it back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco snorted as he sipped his, but refilled Harry’s glass all the same.
The warmth in the pit of his stomach was greatly welcomed. It did seem to be helping a bit with the shudders that occasionally wracked him, and was able to beat them off now. He gulped his second glass and replaced it back on the table with more force then necessary. Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged, making the blanket slide off of one shoulder. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Perhaps you’re not in the best frame of mind at the moment,” Draco said, examining Harry with a far too perceptive gaze.
“More please,” was all Harry said. Draco rolled his eyes and obligingly topped Harry glass.
They drank in silence after that, no need to fill the quiet with words. Silence between them was comforting, safe. Any words spoken had a habit of either turning into insults or innuendos, and right now, Harry had energy for neither. He spun his glass on the table in a slow circle, watching as the liquid moved slowly against the glass walls that confined it with the motion. His cheeks felt hot from the liquor, heating him from head to toe. He tossed back the last half of his glass.
“I think you need to get to bed, Potter,” Draco said, taking away Harry’s glass. He moved the bottle away as well when Harry made a move for it.
“Not ready for sleep,” Harry said. He stared at where Draco clutched the neck of the bottle, just outside of his reach.
Draco stood and reached out, gripping Harry’s upper arms and dragging him up. “Bed,” he said, and ushered Harry down the hall.
Harry stumbled, tripping over his feet before he managed to steady himself with a hand on the wall. He had to release the blanket to do so, letting it fall to the floor. He heard Draco curse and felt the faint tickle of hair and hot breath as Draco reached down to grab the material. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and tucked the blanket back around him.
The walk to his bedroom was longer then Harry remembered it being. The bed was still unmade when they reached it, and Harry fell gratefully in amongst the covers, despite what he had said, and curled up on his side.
He heard Draco moving around behind him, but couldn’t make any sense of what he was doing. It wasn’t until Draco had slid into the bed next to him that Harry realised that he had been undressing. His cheeks heated when he realised that he was lying in bed, nearly naked, with a nearly naked – or was he naked? – Draco behind him. Draco pulled the covers over them, on top of the one that Harry was already wrapped in.
“What’re you doing?” he asked. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He feared he had too much to drink; he was beginning to feel a little over heated.
“If you think I’m leaving, you must be insane,” Draco said, his breath hot on the back of Harry’s neck. “What if something else happened? What if there was another curse that hit you and it hasn’t made itself known yet? If anything,” he said as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him back into Draco’s chest. Harry’s shudders stopped. “It’s to stop those convulsions.”
Harry closed his eyes. This warmth was better than the warmth provided by Snoozewacker and his silly blend. He shuffled, pushing back into Draco, who tightened his grip.
“You just wanted to get into my trousers,” Harry found himself mumbling, already falling asleep.
“Well, I’ve gotten you out of your trousers,” Draco said. Harry closed his eyes, the rumble of Draco’s voice soothing and easing him to sleep. Whatever Draco said after that, though, Harry doesn’t hear. He’d already fallen asleep.
~*~
When Harry woke up, the first thing he became aware of was a dull headache. And despite his sweat slicked skin he was freezing cold. He shivered, opened his eyes and looked around blearily for wherever the covers had disappeared to.
What he found though, was much better than covers.
Draco was spread out beside him, all of the covers collected together in a heap half draped across his body, artfully almost, the rest hanging off the far side of the bed. ‘Blanket hog,’ Harry thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to seriously care. Draco was tangled in them, sheets twined around his left calf with the corner barely covering his chest, the other end spilling over the side of the bed.
Draco had stripped down to his pants before he had crawled in beside Harry, not naked, as Harry had thought – hoped, even. His pants clung to him like all his clothes did, leaving little to the imagination. Harry could see the outline of morning wood; his mouth watered. He forced himself to look away, instead sliding his gaze up and over the rest of Draco’s body. His chest rose and fell with each soft breath, and Harry was pleased to note there was a little snore with each exhalation. His lips were slightly parted, and Harry found himself staring at them much too avidly. Harry gave himself a mental shake and reached across Draco’s exposed chest for the blankets. He was sleeping in this morning, damnit.
The shift of his weight on the mattress roused Draco, though, and Harry froze, arm outstretched over him with their noses nearly touching. Harry held his breath as Draco blinked his eyes open and focused on Harry, unsure of what Draco’s reaction would be.
“Mmm,” Draco muttered. He still sounded half asleep, mind still caught up in his dreams. “Much worse things to wake up to. Could do something about the hair, though.” He reached up and slid a hand through Harry’s hair, tugging on the ends a little, playfully almost. Harry gasped at the sensation, his head tipping back a little and following Draco’s hand. Draco’s eyes slid closed again, he inhaled deeply and let out a soft moan.
Harry stopped breathing, covers forgotten, as Draco pushed up and rolled Harry over, settling atop of him and straddling Harry’s leg. “Much more real too,” Draco muttered into Harry’s neck.
Harry became aware that he was completely naked when Draco began grinding against him, small undulations of his hips that made Harry yearn to reach out and grab Draco’s arse, bring him closer. “Draco,” he started, and broke off when Draco sucked on his neck. His hands flew to Draco’s arse, the globes of his arse fitting into Harry’s hands like they were made for Harry to hold and squeeze and lick and bite and –
Draco stopped moving, halting so suddenly that he left Harry breathless. He didn’t release his grip on Draco’s buttocks though, and he felt it when Draco tensed, clearly becoming aware that this wasn’t a dream.
“Potter?” Draco huffed, his breath ghosting across Harry’s skin, cool against the spot where Draco had licked him.
“Yeah?” he panted back. His fingers tightened their hold on Draco’s arse.
He heard Draco swallow. Relax and tense and relax again, his breaths rapid and making shivers chase each other across Harry’s neck, down his spine. He could feel Draco’s erection against his thigh, felt it twitch and pulse, felt his own react in a mirror imitation, both of them hot and heavy where they pressed into each other’s.
And then Draco was pulling away, untangling himself form Harry’s hold and that of the blankets still twisted around his ankle. He fell to the floor as the blankets dragged him down in a very undignified manner, most un-Draco like. Harry sat up, head spinning from moving so quickly. “What’re you–”
“Sorry, Potter.” He almost sounded sincere. “Mistake. I didn’t mean to stay for so long or… well, I should be getting back soon, anyways. Mother and all – early morning breakfasts. She insists.” Draco was dressing with quick, sharp movements, avoiding looking over at Harry and keeping his eyes away from the bed altogether. Harry squinted at the clock on his bedside table.
“Draco, it’s quarter after five.” He watched Draco pull on his shirt, buttoning it to the very top. He felt very cold, and he didn’t think it was just the air this time. As Draco looked around, presumably for his cloak, Harry glanced down and spotted the persistent bulge in his trousers. “You’re still hard.”
“Don’t point it out to me,” Draco snapped at him, fists clenching at his sides. Harry blinked, taken aback from the viciousness in Draco’s voice.
“Okay,” Harry said slowly.
Draco closed his eyes, breathing in careful measures and looking as if he was counting n his head. When he turned to Harry, he didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking off over Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just I–” He stopped himself and said instead, “I’ll see you at work.”
He turned and was out of the room before Harry could summon words to respond. Harry heard the Floo flare, Draco’s exclamation of his destination, then nothing.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, stunned and head spinning, before he stood, clutching at the bedpost to keep him steady. It felt as if he was moving through molasses as he moved across the room, headless of his nudity, heading down to the kitchen.
Snoozewacker’s Finest was still on the table, accompanied with two glasses, one empty and another half full. Draco’s robe was flung over a chair. It all seemed too normal, making what had just happened all the more surreal.
Harry picked the robe up with cold hands. It was warm, soft and silky against his fingertips.
What had happened?
tbc in Precipice: Over the Edge With You
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, eventually
Word Count: 2726
Rating: R
Summary: A slow acting curse puts events into motion much quicker then they were meant to be. Time is an intricate thing.
A/N: Based off of
skriftlig’s prompt of ‘carpet burn’. Somehow, this came out. *head desks* They didn’t want carpet burn, and things between these two are destined to always be complicated. Le sigh. Anyways, all mistakes are my own!--
Merlin, it hurt.
Harry writhed on the floor, clenching his eyes shut and twisting, trying to get away from the contact. Impossible, he knew, when what he was trying to get away from was himself.
He tore at his clothing, trying to get the fabric away from his skin. It just made his hands hurt more. In desperation, he rubbed against the carpet, hoping the friction would manage to undo the clasps; all it ended up doing was press his robes closer to his body, enhancing contact he didn’t want. He whimpered.
On the edge of his awareness, he was able to distinguish someone speaking as they tried spell after spell. Harry didn’t know what they were, didn’t care. Not when he was far more concerned with trying to get away from his clothes, the fabric of which seemed to burn his skin, the threads brushing against and agitating marks he knew weren’t there.
There was a curse, and Harry felt the vibrations as someone dropped to their knees beside him, saying something about Aurors and slow acting spells and idiots. Harry didn’t care though, clawing at the clasps on his cloak that were far too sturdy, pain shooting thorugh his hands from his efforts. He arched his back, trying to ease the pressure there, trying to get away from the material.
It was like they had been charmed to deliver pain, and Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.
But now there were hands, unhooking the clasps and parting the fabric. Harry increased his efforts, clawing at the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath. He managed to rip a fair few off before his arms were caught, the sleeves of his robe catching on his elbows.
He screamed.
He was rolled over, thrashing, and the cloak torn from his back. He could have cried with relief, if there was still too many clothes on him, rubbing against his skin and making it burn, thousands upon thousands of pinpricks.
There was cool air, though, when he was rolled over, right on his chest where he had managed to tear off the buttons there. He tried to focus on that as hands attacked the rest of the buttons, eventually ripping the shirt open and sending the rest of the buttons flying. He was dragged up and his shirt pulled off to be tossed far away. Harry could have sobbed with relief. Instead, he pushed at the waist of his trousers, indicating that those had to come off too.
He had enough presence of mind now to kick off his shoes as his belt was undone. He toed off his socks as the zip of his trousers was lowered, wincing as the material dug in between his toes. He managed to get first one, then the other sock off. His trousers were lowered a moment later, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He pushed at his y-fronts, getting them down to his knees and kicked them off and away from him. Hopefully they landed in the fire.
Harry closed his eyes, gulping down fresh air and feeling whole and pleasantly warm, as if he was on the verge of falling asleep.
“Potter?”
Harry opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly and trying to figure out why his vision was blurry. Ah, glasses. Must be at the other end of the room, lying shattered beside the wall. He distantly recalled throwing them off his face.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice a little gravely. He coughed.
“Slow acting spell,” Draco explained, for that surely must be who was kneeling beside Harry. His clothes were a little rumpled as well, and he seemed to be staring fixedly at Harry’s face. “Turns the clothes of the wearer against them, imbibes them with a spell not unlike a lesser version of the Cruciatus.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “Does this mean I have to walk around naked now?”
Despite not having his glasses, he was able to make out Draco’s smirk. Instead of angering him now, as it used to during their school years, it was now a comfort, something Draco only gave to him. It helped that it wasn’t as biting anymore, and held no ill will. “No, just those clothes. Not that I would mind otherwise,” he finished in an undertone. “Anyways, you’re lucky I followed you home, Potter.”
“You always follow me home,” Harry said, and tried sitting up. His head spun and he shot out an arm, grasping onto Draco’s shoulder and trying to keep himself upright. He shuddered.
“Yes, and be glad for it,” Draco said, placing a hand on Harry’s back.
“I am,” Harry mumbled, trying to fight off his dizziness. “Lots of – of good times.”
“You’ve never been naked, though,” Draco said, giving in and dropping his gaze to Harry’s lap. “I like this new change.”
Harry flushed and put a hand in his lap, trying to cover himself. Draco smirked at his efforts and went to fetch a blanket. He tossed it to Harry, who gratefully covered himself, hoping it would fight off the rising shudders. Going over to where Harry’s glasses had landed in a mess of shards, Draco repaired them with a quick tap of his wand and handed them over to Harry.
“Thanks,” he said, sliding them into place.
“Tea?” Draco asked, and moved through to the kitchen.
Harry grumbled as he followed behind Draco on shaking legs and said, “I think I’d prefer something a bit stronger, to be honest.”
Draco sniffed as he sorted through Harry’s cupboards. “The stuff you have here is swill.”
“I still have the bottle you left here after the Morris case,” Harry offered. “And it’s not swill,” he defended.
“Whatever you say. Where is it?” Draco stood on his tiptoes, reaching towards the back. Harry found himself eyeing Draco’s rear, watching as the muscles of his buttocks and thighs worked under trousers that clung perfectly to his form. “Potter?” he asked over his shoulder.
Harry started and tore his eyes away. “Um, next one over.” He gestured and collapsed into a chair at the table, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The rest formed a puddle in his lap, for which he was thankful.
Draco found the bottle with a muffled ‘Ah-ha!’ and withdrew, looking victorious and clutching a bottle of Mr Snoozewacker’s Finest Blend. He Summoned a pair of glasses and poured a healthy measure in each, setting down the first before Harry. Harry tossed it back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco snorted as he sipped his, but refilled Harry’s glass all the same.
The warmth in the pit of his stomach was greatly welcomed. It did seem to be helping a bit with the shudders that occasionally wracked him, and was able to beat them off now. He gulped his second glass and replaced it back on the table with more force then necessary. Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged, making the blanket slide off of one shoulder. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Perhaps you’re not in the best frame of mind at the moment,” Draco said, examining Harry with a far too perceptive gaze.
“More please,” was all Harry said. Draco rolled his eyes and obligingly topped Harry glass.
They drank in silence after that, no need to fill the quiet with words. Silence between them was comforting, safe. Any words spoken had a habit of either turning into insults or innuendos, and right now, Harry had energy for neither. He spun his glass on the table in a slow circle, watching as the liquid moved slowly against the glass walls that confined it with the motion. His cheeks felt hot from the liquor, heating him from head to toe. He tossed back the last half of his glass.
“I think you need to get to bed, Potter,” Draco said, taking away Harry’s glass. He moved the bottle away as well when Harry made a move for it.
“Not ready for sleep,” Harry said. He stared at where Draco clutched the neck of the bottle, just outside of his reach.
Draco stood and reached out, gripping Harry’s upper arms and dragging him up. “Bed,” he said, and ushered Harry down the hall.
Harry stumbled, tripping over his feet before he managed to steady himself with a hand on the wall. He had to release the blanket to do so, letting it fall to the floor. He heard Draco curse and felt the faint tickle of hair and hot breath as Draco reached down to grab the material. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and tucked the blanket back around him.
The walk to his bedroom was longer then Harry remembered it being. The bed was still unmade when they reached it, and Harry fell gratefully in amongst the covers, despite what he had said, and curled up on his side.
He heard Draco moving around behind him, but couldn’t make any sense of what he was doing. It wasn’t until Draco had slid into the bed next to him that Harry realised that he had been undressing. His cheeks heated when he realised that he was lying in bed, nearly naked, with a nearly naked – or was he naked? – Draco behind him. Draco pulled the covers over them, on top of the one that Harry was already wrapped in.
“What’re you doing?” he asked. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He feared he had too much to drink; he was beginning to feel a little over heated.
“If you think I’m leaving, you must be insane,” Draco said, his breath hot on the back of Harry’s neck. “What if something else happened? What if there was another curse that hit you and it hasn’t made itself known yet? If anything,” he said as he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him back into Draco’s chest. Harry’s shudders stopped. “It’s to stop those convulsions.”
Harry closed his eyes. This warmth was better than the warmth provided by Snoozewacker and his silly blend. He shuffled, pushing back into Draco, who tightened his grip.
“You just wanted to get into my trousers,” Harry found himself mumbling, already falling asleep.
“Well, I’ve gotten you out of your trousers,” Draco said. Harry closed his eyes, the rumble of Draco’s voice soothing and easing him to sleep. Whatever Draco said after that, though, Harry doesn’t hear. He’d already fallen asleep.
When Harry woke up, the first thing he became aware of was a dull headache. And despite his sweat slicked skin he was freezing cold. He shivered, opened his eyes and looked around blearily for wherever the covers had disappeared to.
What he found though, was much better than covers.
Draco was spread out beside him, all of the covers collected together in a heap half draped across his body, artfully almost, the rest hanging off the far side of the bed. ‘Blanket hog,’ Harry thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to seriously care. Draco was tangled in them, sheets twined around his left calf with the corner barely covering his chest, the other end spilling over the side of the bed.
Draco had stripped down to his pants before he had crawled in beside Harry, not naked, as Harry had thought – hoped, even. His pants clung to him like all his clothes did, leaving little to the imagination. Harry could see the outline of morning wood; his mouth watered. He forced himself to look away, instead sliding his gaze up and over the rest of Draco’s body. His chest rose and fell with each soft breath, and Harry was pleased to note there was a little snore with each exhalation. His lips were slightly parted, and Harry found himself staring at them much too avidly. Harry gave himself a mental shake and reached across Draco’s exposed chest for the blankets. He was sleeping in this morning, damnit.
The shift of his weight on the mattress roused Draco, though, and Harry froze, arm outstretched over him with their noses nearly touching. Harry held his breath as Draco blinked his eyes open and focused on Harry, unsure of what Draco’s reaction would be.
“Mmm,” Draco muttered. He still sounded half asleep, mind still caught up in his dreams. “Much worse things to wake up to. Could do something about the hair, though.” He reached up and slid a hand through Harry’s hair, tugging on the ends a little, playfully almost. Harry gasped at the sensation, his head tipping back a little and following Draco’s hand. Draco’s eyes slid closed again, he inhaled deeply and let out a soft moan.
Harry stopped breathing, covers forgotten, as Draco pushed up and rolled Harry over, settling atop of him and straddling Harry’s leg. “Much more real too,” Draco muttered into Harry’s neck.
Harry became aware that he was completely naked when Draco began grinding against him, small undulations of his hips that made Harry yearn to reach out and grab Draco’s arse, bring him closer. “Draco,” he started, and broke off when Draco sucked on his neck. His hands flew to Draco’s arse, the globes of his arse fitting into Harry’s hands like they were made for Harry to hold and squeeze and lick and bite and –
Draco stopped moving, halting so suddenly that he left Harry breathless. He didn’t release his grip on Draco’s buttocks though, and he felt it when Draco tensed, clearly becoming aware that this wasn’t a dream.
“Potter?” Draco huffed, his breath ghosting across Harry’s skin, cool against the spot where Draco had licked him.
“Yeah?” he panted back. His fingers tightened their hold on Draco’s arse.
He heard Draco swallow. Relax and tense and relax again, his breaths rapid and making shivers chase each other across Harry’s neck, down his spine. He could feel Draco’s erection against his thigh, felt it twitch and pulse, felt his own react in a mirror imitation, both of them hot and heavy where they pressed into each other’s.
And then Draco was pulling away, untangling himself form Harry’s hold and that of the blankets still twisted around his ankle. He fell to the floor as the blankets dragged him down in a very undignified manner, most un-Draco like. Harry sat up, head spinning from moving so quickly. “What’re you–”
“Sorry, Potter.” He almost sounded sincere. “Mistake. I didn’t mean to stay for so long or… well, I should be getting back soon, anyways. Mother and all – early morning breakfasts. She insists.” Draco was dressing with quick, sharp movements, avoiding looking over at Harry and keeping his eyes away from the bed altogether. Harry squinted at the clock on his bedside table.
“Draco, it’s quarter after five.” He watched Draco pull on his shirt, buttoning it to the very top. He felt very cold, and he didn’t think it was just the air this time. As Draco looked around, presumably for his cloak, Harry glanced down and spotted the persistent bulge in his trousers. “You’re still hard.”
“Don’t point it out to me,” Draco snapped at him, fists clenching at his sides. Harry blinked, taken aback from the viciousness in Draco’s voice.
“Okay,” Harry said slowly.
Draco closed his eyes, breathing in careful measures and looking as if he was counting n his head. When he turned to Harry, he didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking off over Harry’s shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just I–” He stopped himself and said instead, “I’ll see you at work.”
He turned and was out of the room before Harry could summon words to respond. Harry heard the Floo flare, Draco’s exclamation of his destination, then nothing.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, stunned and head spinning, before he stood, clutching at the bedpost to keep him steady. It felt as if he was moving through molasses as he moved across the room, headless of his nudity, heading down to the kitchen.
Snoozewacker’s Finest was still on the table, accompanied with two glasses, one empty and another half full. Draco’s robe was flung over a chair. It all seemed too normal, making what had just happened all the more surreal.
Harry picked the robe up with cold hands. It was warm, soft and silky against his fingertips.
What had happened?
tbc in Precipice: Over the Edge With You