Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"You should know, really, That this could end, really. You should know, I could never make it work, wake up, let's pretend, really."

Chapter Two
"Beware"
Harry and Draco

It was a rushing moment of drowning, of being completely lost in the muted, watery abyss. There was nothing more than the rush against his skin, the boy's cool breath mingling on his neck as the wounds from teeth began to throb, his chest heaving silently.

It was blonde against black, pale fingers gripping golden skin in the moonlit shadows of vacated classrooms and dark corridors. It was about control.

That much he knew for sure, the submissive moments where his life wasn't his own, where his thoughts were only marred by the guilty pleasure of the moment, and of whom which is was with. Yet, when his hands were gripped tightly above his head and the fingernails dug deep into his sides, nothing mattered. Nothing but release.

That night he had waited in the obsidian darkness, the echoing silence ringing in his ears. He flushed as footsteps grew louder, his heart beating rapidly in tune with them, slapping softly against the stone floor.

And it was those eyes, cold and merciless, an icy precipice he couldn't help but fall into. It seemed to last forever, the moment between seeing and feeling but with it, he sighed in relief, his back meeting the wall roughly as lips trembled warmly against his ear.

Already he could feel himself slipping, could feel the control silently shifting positions. And even when his breathing became erratic and anxiousness made his skin crawl, he couldn't bare to break free, couldn't bare to let go. He was his, and he suddenly, unforgivably, liked it that way.

He was pushed into an empty classroom, of which he couldn't tell as his glasses slid away from him, he reached out in the darkness only to feel a cold, stone hand grip his, twisting it slightly as lips curled around his calloused fingertips.

He bit back a whimper, his hands clawing into the cold floor beneath him, to keep grounded. And yet as he felt the warmth of the boy's tongue across his skin, he couldn't help but cry out softly, a mere tear from his forgotten lips.

He felt a smile on his fingers, and then nothing was there, he could no longer feel the presence, the demanding magnetism of the silver haired boy. Yet still, he trembled in wait, it was a game, always a game.

He stood up slowly, noticing that his shirt had been torn at the buttons, light scratch marks blemishing his chest. Still, he searched, with outstretched hands and shuffling feet.

"You know what I want."

It was a whisper that sent chills down his spine, the words broken apart by the jolting lust of the forbidden moment. He shivered, gripping a nearby desk as his expectancy grew. And then, his lips parted, and his voice, a mere whisper, broke the thick silence.

"Draco."

It was then that he felt his warm chest firmly against his back, a hand sliding gracefully up his back until he felt fingernails scratch his neck, and finally, he felt a firm fist at the roots of his hair.

"Again." The voice was commanding, he trembled in his grasp.

"Draco." The fist in his hair tightened, Harry wincing as it ran through him, ending with spikes of pleasure shooting through his limbs.

He could feel the throbbing need within him, blinding every thought that entered his head, turning away any moments misery. The fist in his hair tightened once more as he felt another hand snake loosely down his hips, unbuckling his trousers until they fell uselessly to the floor.

And then it was all he could do to stand straight, he felt a hand grip him tightly, squeezing softly as his lips parted in a silent gasp. But it was when he felt those cold fingers glide across the warm skin there that he moaned softly, his teeth grinding against each other.

There was a final tug of his hair, sharp and rapid, enough to make Harry groan as he felt the same hand push him forward onto the desk, the blonde's hand still skillfully stroking between his legs. Then he felt exposed thighs at the back of his, the boy's length slowly rising against his own.

He groaned as the boy pushed into him, gently at first, yet so achingly slow that he had to grip the desk beneath him, biting his lip not to scream out in the stillness of the night. And then he could feel the boy's chest at his, warm breath caressing his neck in tingles.

Yet it was when those hips rolled that he couldn't help but groan again, couldn't help but throw his head back against the boy's shoulder in complete abandon.

He plead for this every night, waiting for the moment where nothingness met reality and there was no in between. He waited until his power wasn't his own, and he didn't have to have control over it all. It was the moment where he was nothing, and he craved it like a drug.

Climax began to build slowly, hips thrusting into fists as the soft slap of flesh against flesh sounded in the ringing silence, the moans and whimpers coming from voices never heard, never experienced, voices that weren't their own.

He slid slowly out of him, feeling the muscles grasp him tightly as his pushed back in, gaining force with every motion until he growled deep in his chest, his teeth showing pearlescent in the faint starlight. And with that he began to thrust in earnest, one hand gripping between the other boy's legs as the opposite hand dug into his shoulder.

Sweat began to form on foreheads as moans turned violent and hands were gripping, grasping at anything to push and pull, to tear apart as they felt the final rush of relief just over the horizon. He felt the cold fist at his hair once more, tugging fitfully as the blonde's lips met the boy's neck, his teeth pushing slowly into the skin until finally he felt the ache of climax explode, and his teeth sunk into the flesh above his pulse.

He screamed as the pain built the pleasure, releasing as he felt himself break into thousands of defragmented pieces, pulsing and throbbing as he slowly pulled himself back together again, the boy's forehead resting lightly between his shoulders.

He felt a chaste kiss there before he was let go, sticky and hot, his chest heaving from the forgotten breaths. Yet before he could turn around to look once more into those piercing grey eyes, the door was already shut and locked safely behind him.

--

Dedication: To C. Adrien Cummings, I'm kinda happy you picked this one, even though I secretly hold a hatred for the pair, I wanted to see what I could do with it, so thanks!

Author's Note: Wow. I think that's all I can say at this point. Hopefully you understood who was who in the situation, it's hard to discern two boys when you call 'em both he and his. But I am so very happy with how this turned out. Song by Deftones, Review! --Delta