Disclaimer: Obviously not mine.
AN: I don't even know where this one came from. I was working on another fic, and this one just popped into my head. Didn't really revise this, so please do tell me if I made any mistakes. And people review; I really want to know how I should improve, or which parts were good.
Warning: slash (mild M), angst (I think)
Summary: Harry and Draco find a better alternative to fighting, as blows and punches are replaced by actions of a more intimate nature.
Clothes are ripped open, as hands wander feverishly on the exposed flesh, driven on by the urge to unravel the other's control. They need this more than anything else, a distraction from life's inequities, something they could look forward to, something they wouldn't have to analyse but just feel; finally follow their visceral instincts. Apart from fighting, this was their only way of venting out repressed frustrations, at least the only one that was so effective. They could hurt and enjoy it, knowing that the other was enjoying it too; they could get hurt, and still take pleasure in it. It was a flawless arrangement.
And fucking with the one who always managed to ignite the fiercest feelings is an added bonus. They dislike each other to the point of hatred, but neither could deny the almost palpable attraction they have towards each other, not when they have already acted upon it. It was too late to turn back now, and neither of them wished to do so; they would lose more than they would ever gain.
They lower themselves onto the bed, now familiar with each other's likely movements, and each other, but contrary to what was expected, that didn't mitigate their lust in the slightest, instead it brought them a thrill to finally be able to understand each other in a way others never would. A small part of their enigmatic nature, that had always intrigued and pulled at the other, deciphered; a piece of the jumbled and complicated jigsaw puzzle—which was essentially how they percieved each other—found.
Rutting against naked, wet skin, their overheated bodies thrash and squirm, finding the evoked sensations so good, that it almost hurt. How could something that felt so good be borne from such actions, and more importantly with someone they disliked? It was a question they often asked themselves, but never bothered to ponder on, because they weren't going to sabotage one of the few good things that was left in their lives, for they knew that if they delved on it too much, propriety would push through in the end, and they would end whatever they had between them.
It was one of those things that could only be felt, like the first drops of rain after a long, dry summer, or the sense of completion they felt while flying. Words or justifications could never capture the essence of these feelings, and so they never bothered to try.
Groping and squeezing so hard that it would undoubtedly leave bruises; they bring each other much needed release—a release from the torturous crescendo they had worked up to, and a temporary release from the chaos they called life. They want to mark each other, not because they wanted to mark what was theirs, but because they wanted to see the evidence of what they did on the other's flesh, since sometimes they themselves couldn't believe that their rivalry had transcended into something of this nature.
Moving away from each other as quickly as possible, they turn away to dress themselves, not wanting to look into each other's eyes, scared to find out what could be revealed through such gazes.
They leave the Room of Requirement without a backward glance, or for that matter at each other. The air between them sizzle as they pass through the door together, both of them hurrying to get away from the other's overwhelming presence, both wishing that they felt more towards each other than just lust; wishing it was because of mutual liking, rather than kinship that they got together, since it seemed that the other was the only one who felt powerless, angry, confined within the limitations of their situations and the restrictions their supposed family and friends imposed on them.
They felt horrible for feeling such forbidden thoughts about someone equally, if not more forbidden, but they felt even more horrible about not feeling something more than just shallow lust for someone who seemed so right for themselves. They wished they wanted more than just a give-and-take relationship, not knowing that yet again, both of them felt the same way about the other. But alas, it was just fucking to them, nothing more, nothing less.