Author's note: This being fanfiction, the standard disclaimers apply. The following 205-word Snarry drabble is rated R for graphic hair fetishism and One Curse Word ( no, not Cru-- hahaha ).
The Fix
You cannot keep your hands out of his hair when you're with him, and you gave up trying a while ago.
You come together without grace, teeth clashing with teeth, eyes screwed shut in concentration, and no matter what his hands are doing, yours will always find their way into his hair. It used to disgust you; now you love it, love this, love your fingers slipslideslitherin' through his sweatdamp greasematted locks as you and he enact a hideous parody of a kiss with trembling lips and drool and tongues. You scrape your nails across his scalp ( there's always grime under them afterwards ), hold entire incoherent conversations with the inside of his mouth and you can't get enough of his bloody hair-- Merlin you'd fuck it, were that possible.
It's overpowering after a long day, the faintly potiony reek of his hair that you can't even compare with ravens' wings or something suitably romantic because it isn't glossy it sucks in light, makes your hands feel dirty but you love it. You hide your face in that blackblackgreasyblackgreasy mass when you're torn to completion; his arm around your back keeps you from falling because your hands are clutching twisting shuddering in his hair.
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