Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Content Notes: Knotting RP, Sex Spell, Intercrural Sex, Second Person POV, PWP and more indirectly indicated: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Mole/Birthmark Kink.
Author's Notes: Originally written for HP_kinkfest 2013. This is my first attempt at Knotting RP, a kink I've only picked up quite recently. Hopefully there will be lots more to come! I would have liked to spend more time with the fic, but unfortunately, time was not on my side. My concern towards the end is that I haven't made it more obvious, more to point what this story was about before it got weighted down by everything that was happening.
Thank you, GypsyRaeyven for betaing on such a short notice and all your support!
Another Day, Another Dawn
Never mind the crickets chirping in the garden – up until now you had slept through all the white noise. It was the hour when dawn broke, when balmy air, loaded with earthy scents and playful breezes, wafted in from an open window; an hour when, if you could choose a time to start your day, this would be it. With her nightly duty coming to a halt the Moon was playing a lonely game of hide-and-seek among the clouds, like a stubborn child who refused to go to bed.
Today it was different. No sudden onset of tension that made you bolt upright, no cry of distress at a particularly startling sight. You did not have the appearance of being stuck in the last dream before awakening, although it seemed to have taken you longer than normal to come out of sleep. Pass, wretched dreams! Too bad you still had those moments in which your body felt weightless. You saw light ahead – predictably – and what could be a fire burning in the middle of a clearing, a tiny patch of dark sky visible between heavy branches, but there half sealed in a stone, was a sword with glittering rubies in its hilt… You watched, perplexed. Though amid the shadows of your old life, you knew that something was not quite right…
With a strange kind of empathy you departed from scenery to scenery, plunging deeper and deeper into the web of your own imagination. Your subconscious mind was capable of picking out certain discrepancies, as if on impulse, but it had no way of knowing how much detail had been distorted, at least not until the minute your eyes opened. By then you would be compelled to think of all you had seen and heard, even if only to stultify your dreams, which had no other purpose these days than to play back tangled memories, so that you could wake up in bemusement. That part of your life ended so long ago. The scar on your forehead had not prickled in years.
All was well. Or, so you thought.
You were not having one of those mornings, as it turned out. Everything tingled at first, and tickled, with a leap of pleasure. Granted, you were disorientated. Your sleepy head did not know what to think: a mixture of feelings welled up inside you. Slowly, you tilted your head and nuzzled. And then, the impetuous thing happened. Amber, vanilla, sandalwood, along with the faintest hint of clove, came to you one by one; you did not have to rack your brains for their names, even though, at this precise moment, you could not effectively describe the difference between tingling and tickling. Noticing the aching stiffness in your limbs at last, you shifted against the mattress, but abruptly froze as you felt the pull.
Which meant that you had slept in this position all night, not bothered to withdraw afterwards, and the spell that tied you together was still in effect… You were tucked in a hot, moist fold made of soft, sensitive tissue, where muscles clung to you, squeezing and contracting as though they could not get enough of you, no matter how long you intended to stay… although admittedly the last one was wishful thinking on your part.
The drowsiness had gone, in light of a need so groundless and so powerful that all your faculties returned at once: your hand caught a bony elbow, his hair – which, you imagined instantly, had the colour of moonlight – touching your face, and every time he took a deep, unsuspecting breath, you could feel the vibration all the way to your spine. It was pure bliss, intensified and prolonged by you, because you never wanted this to end.
The whole bed trembled as you rolled back on to your heels, barely avoiding the leg that was aimed at your face. It must have looked like a flailing mess. You glared at your bedmate, who was having a laughing fit at your expense. The corners of his mouth rose, revealing two rows of sharp, white teeth, and just one look at the giant bite mark he left on your shoulder had it tingling again. You knew at least ten ways to make him fall on his arse too, but you restrained yourself. He squirmed away from the spot where he had splashed his cum only a few minutes ago, where he whimpered and whined and scooted his arse back on your tongue.
'Oi! What's that for?' you asked pointedly.
He was showing you the side of his face while he smoothed out fresh wrinkles on his pristine pillowcase, then leaned back, his arms behind his head.
'Don't tell me you couldn't dodge, with your reflexes,' he began. 'Besides, after the stunt you pulled today, you deserve a kick in the face. In case you haven't noticed, I have a reputation to uphold in my place of business. What would it do to poor Hobbs if he walks in on his boss – shoved against the door while having his life sucked out of him? We can't have that – '
'I didn't hear you complaining at the time,' you grumbled, which he chose to ignore.
' – everytime you run a search in the neighbourhood. Really, what were you thinking?'
'What was I thinking?' you repeated, incredulous. 'I must be a dolt to suck you off when you asked. Next time I know what to tell you. Remind me never to visit you at work again.'
'You could have locked the door at least!' he said, indignantly.
He liked ordering you around, in and out of bed, despite that it never occurred to you for a second to do as he said. Mind you, his arse was so damn fine that you stopped questioning why you walked out on your best friend's sister and followed him home one night. The tantrums and attitude problems were hardly news to you; knowing someone since your boyhood could do that, except back then you were not as intimately arranged. The wizarding world was small. Unless you ventured out to muggles and squibs, you would be sleeping with schoolmates – consecutively.
You and he were not above the co-dependent coupling of existence that all you friends inhabited. He wouldn't be picking on you if he didn't think he could get away with it, you wouldn't be letting him if you didn't think it would please him, and keeping him pleased meant happy times. Your friends did not understand what you had. Even the slightest suggestion that the two of you might have shared a functional relationship like the rest of them tended to create a furore. It was rather predictable of them, so predictable that the thought of them came and fled on this fine morning without leaving much of a lasting impression. There was a time and place to think about your friends. This, most certainly, was not it!
You should undo the spell now. You really should undo it before he woke up. He would gladly stomp on your nose again if he found out what you had done. Or worse. As an officer of the law, you should have known better than casting undocumented sex spells upon your partner without permission… express or implied. Although, now you thought of it, he did not disagree. No, scratch that, he could not have agreed or disagreed, given that he was already fast asleep. Stop it, you told yourself, don't think like a sex offender…
Unable to stand the internal bickering, you dropped your full weight on to him. The mass of struggling limbs he shoved at your face had not made it easy for you. By the skin of your teeth you peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, what a bloody inconvenience! and went feverishly to devour, his dislodged ankle clutched in your hand. You paused, not completely, to take in the sight of him. For the first time in days, you had forgotten all about the case in Bristol as you felt the back of your thumb pressing against your index finger – the very indication of how slender he was, how easily he could have fooled everyone, but you knew otherwise; you knew that he was more than the smirk and the drawl, and that he was not just a bag of fragile skin and bones.
'You brute,' he hissed hoarsely, and yet there was a touch of warmth and humour in his voice, as though he was not altogether put off by your advances. 'Didn't you say you were too knackered to shag tonight? Go to sleep then!'
He was not wrong. You had not had a good night's rest for days on end, your eyeballs thrust from behind the sockets, head lowering of its own accord, noises whirring in your ears, yet you were afraid to close your eyes: you would see the little girl again. Found cold on an isolated street, stripped bare and covered in coal, with the unmistakable signs of dark magic on her remains. Was there any wonder why the transitory wreaths of sleep had failed to comfort you? How did other people forget things after they had seen?
It started with a simple grinding motion. Before you realised, your instinct had taken over; human bodies always had a way of figuring out things quicker than the brain. Mindlessly, you lifted your hips and grinded again. You could have summoned the lube, but you did not want anything to ease your movement. The insides of his nearly hairless thighs felt heavenly around your cock. For one night you had him at exactly where you needed him, and he gave you what you wanted with no game, no drama, no delay, only the friction that you craved for.
From a distance you heard breathy voices approaching, filling the room in a rhythm matching every bite, grip, every frenzied but urgent hump. You crushed down on him, a heavy load with numb heart. While he seemed to be content to lie there for a change, snug under the curve of your body…
'Yes, Draco,' you kept groaning, bolstered. 'Yes!'
Another time you would attend to his needs. Not tonight, not right now. You longed to come down to the ground. Your heart was racing, soaked with emotion and sentiment you could no longer deny. His warm, welcome body, although neither soft nor feminine, with all its protruding outlines, gave you an unexpected sense of security. It felt wonderful to have something to hold on to, someone who allowed you to crash down and bide. You began to kiss like a man dying from thirst, murmuring nonsense between each laboured breath. You had the overwhelming desire to tell him: don't let me go, hold me tight, I want to be – no – I need to be closer, so much closer. But the more you tried to say those exact words, the more incomprehensible you became.
A flash of gleaming silver, like the Black Lake rippling under the moonlit sky, you could have imagined it. Your vision was blurry; you could not see much beyond the fog in your head. All else forgotten, your tongue ploughed into his mouth, you quaked from head to toe. You wanted to believe that the sublime feelings you experienced were real and truthful, and that you were a mere drop of water in this abyss of delight, in which you could either submerge yourself completely, or dart through the endless, velvet blackness to chase pale blue lights you dreamed of seeing.
He sprawled across the mattress like an over-petted cat, his blond hair messy and spiked in places. His back slightly arched, inches away from your face. There was a tiniest reddish dot on one of his shoulder blades, which you always considered to be yours, because until you pointed it out, he did not have the faintest idea it was there, or how he got it. For what could be seconds or minutes, you stared at the red colour against his white skin, the size of a needle puncture, and found yourself unable to look away.
Gingerly you wriggled your hips, for the fear that you might rouse him. You wanted to thrust already, to fuck into him; you wanted to touch him, to watch his skin flush pink. And sometimes, on the mornings he woke up gradually, primped and ready thanks to your hands and mouth, he did not mind you starting without him. Today could be one of these days. You could slide in and out so easily, while all that cum from the night before was still trapped inside him. But first, you needed to undo the spell.
Just then you heard the chiming of the clock from the hallway. Your time had run out and the decision was about to be taken out of your hand. His shoulder moved. His head tilted. Dammit! You panicked. Caught in the world of chaos you created solely on your own, you writhed on the mattress and reached for your wand. On the fourth stroke, you pointed –
All the noises faded away at once. Barely breathing, you shut your eyes and waited. For a minute or two the room was so quiet that you heard your own heart thumping in your chest. The sound of curtains ruffling in the wind came almost as a relief. But he did not move again. Your mind raced as you lay on your side, still tucked in him, terrified as to what might happen next…
It was not your intention to hurt anyone. Neither did you cause anyone pain. You told yourself to stop thinking. With any luck, he might not even notice. You knew that he hid your socks on purpose, and switched off hot water on you when he was annoyed with you, in cold winter too! Surely, he would not be so mad if he found out…
Your cock fell out of his arse as the bed quavered. He must have leaned forward. You rolled on to your back. What was half erection was now completely gone; the apprehension had killed it. Suddenly you felt cold. You swallowed hard, trying not to let your fear show. You felt like a school boy who was sneakily making his way towards the shop door with a bag of stolen candy in his pocket. And the suspense was killing you.
You opened your eyes, ready to accept whatever consequences your action had brought.
