Title: Stop
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Sexual References
Summary: She bit her lip, blushing, meeting his eyes that were clearly devouring the sight of her in only his shirt and her knickers with bows on them - his favorite sight of her. Scorpius/Rose. Drabble.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and the utterly wonderful magical world that comes with him.
Author's Notes: Initially, I envisioned a different pairing when I wrote this. In fact, my inspiration steams not from fan fiction. But I've had this piece for a while and thought it was very fitting with how I envision Scorpius and Rose to be.
"Stop."
"Oh I didn't know you we're up-" Blush. "Sorry- I spilled a potion vial all over me and I didn't think you'd mind..."
"I don't. At all."
"Okay." She reached for his flannel pajamas.
"No pajamas."
"Oh." Blush. "I- Okay-"
She bit her lip, blushing, meeting his eyes that were clearly devouring the sight of her in only his shirt and her knickers with bows on them - his favorite sight of her.
She moved towards him, his stare becoming some kind of gravitational force that pulled her to him. Soon enough, their hands landed on one another as if they were programmed to be touching each other. His hands to her waist, her hands to his shoulders, their distance almost lacking with only a couple of inches of air separating them - the air growing in tension the more apparent of what their current situation could imply to both of them.
"Scorpius..." Rose whispered, unsure if it was meant as an endearment or as a warning. She knew it should be the latter. It was dangerous - them being in this position. They had gone so far but not exactly 'all the way' and there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that it wasn't time yet - not when she was going through things.
Not when he could ruin her.
He buried his face in the spot just below her breasts, as she fought the tingling need and wanton desire from overwhelming her. Her fingers wound itself in his hair, unruly from his hour long nap, tangling through the tendrils like a vine wrapping itself territorially over brick.
She could feel his hands moving and wandering now to areas it shouldn't be. She stood still, immobilized by the feeling of not knowing exactly what to do, his hands now softly drawing lines up and down her back.
"Stop," she found herself saying, before he could go any further - before he could go on making her yearn for him.
"I know," he replies, his hands stilling and resting themselves on the small of her back. Stopping.