Thank you for all your charming reviews, I apologise for the late update. However, I hope you all like it as much as I do. Good things come to those readers who wait... after all.
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter: not mine.
Slow and Steady Wins the Race.
(Proverb)
skinnyrita
Draco Malfoy sat on the edge of his bed and slowly pulled on his pyjama shirt, lost in a solitary thought. He mused over whether he had punished Harry Potter enough for being, well, quite frankly an arsehole to him, and whether it was time to go back to him again, sucker for punishment that he was. He felt like he was beginning to regain the upper hand on Harry, but then thoughts such as this one would enter his mind again and he would doubt himself once more. It was a mystery to him just how strongly he could crave a certain physical proximity to Harry, and yet at the same time wish himself as far away from the boy wonder as possible. Their stacked egos made it difficult to get close, and the struggle was painful, and was about to begin again, and he knew it would be exhausting, as it was before, but when that closeness was attained… it didn't bear thinking about, being without Potter again.
He wondered what their disappearance had done to the school. Probably let everyone relax, he thought, snorting at his own humour, contemplating his bed. Potter and Malfoy. Always entwined at school, whether for good or ill. And now trapped in this lonely house together, granted all through his own fault. He wondered whether Dumbledore had any inkling of what their relationship had been for the last term and a half. He stood up and took a deep breath. He should go and talk to Harry.
To Potter.
888
Harry approached his bedroom door and paused, replaying again mentally what he thought he wanted to say to Malfoy. Since the awkward outpourings (and encouraging kiss too) of that afternoon, he had been tiptoeing around the house like a coward, trying not to give Malfoy any cause to hate him at the moment, and wondering whether he should sit down and say something else to him. The difficulty was, the things he wanted to say could not be put into words very easily. Apart from some polite but unsure words at dinner, where they had both tried to make it appear to Kingsley as though nothing was wrong, he had barely seen Malfoy, much less spoken to him. Snape had arrived in the kitchen as they were clearing the plates, and hauled the Slytherin off to the study to discuss his 'miraculous escape'.
Harry took a deep breath and unlatched the door.
He froze, door half opened. Malfoy was standing on the other side of it, hand poised to tap on it. He lowered it quickly. "Hi."
"Hello," Harry replied, all ideas of what he had wanted to say vanishing. He opened the door and stood back. Malfoy licked his lips nervously and entered. He shut the door with a click behind him. "I…" Harry could not remember what he was going to say. Malfoy moved towards him and took him by the waist. Harry swallowed.
"I've been thinking about what you said," said Malfoy. He leaned down and licked Harry's bottom lip. Harry opened his mouth immediately for the kiss, which though brief, was deep and probing, and left him breathless and giddy. "I propose trying again," said Malfoy, articulately.
Harry gazed at him in happy bewilderment.
Malfoy dipped his head again, caressing his tongue in a curling fashion that Harry remembered as he moaned lightly into the touch and taste, gingerly groping for the blonde's trim sides. Malfoy pulled Harry's t-shirt over his head swiftly, breaking the magical kiss. Harry glanced down and noticed that Malfoy's pyjama shirt had long sleeves. He frowned at it. Malfoy ignored this, engrossed in re-learning the shape of the Gryffindor's chest and the beloved collarbones. Gentle teeth nipped the lightly tan neck, once, then twice.
Harry panted, feeling behind him for the bed. Malfoy took the hint and walked him backwards into it. They fell down with a creak and a bounce. The ancient frame of the Black family's ancestors groaned in exasperation. Malfoy looked down at him, face flushed. His hands were warm and searching.
"Are you sure you want this?" Harry whispered. He wished there could be a time when he wouldn't have to check like this every time he and Malfoy were about to get in any way physical, but this wasn't it, not yet. Not when he had, not so long ago, thrown all of the blonde's intimacy issues back in his beautiful face.
Malfoy's eyes flicked away from him for the briefest second. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here," he said, hesitantly. Harry reached up to brush the hair from his eyes, but the blond flinched away from him slightly. He lowered the hand to a sharp cheekbone instead, trying to act as though he hadn't noticed, but his stomach scrunched inwards. Malfoy moved away from him again, pulled him so that Harry could be on top instead. Harry almost cried in frustration. He didn't want it to be like this, how could it be like this? Malfoy had looped his hands around his back and was caressing him affectionately, but his touches were at odds with his palpable hesitancy, and Harry hated it. He wanted to give Malfoy what he wanted, but whether that was what he was asking for, was another matter entirely. He ducked his head down to plant a kiss on the base of the blonde's neck before he could see what he was thinking, then allowed Malfoy to pull him into another long kiss as his fumbling fingers fiddled with the buttons on the pyjama shirt.
Malfoy moaned wantonly into his mouth for a second, and Harry felt a wash of desire douse his shaking body. He gasped and pressed himself further into the other boy, remembering. How could he have been such an idiot to send this body packing?
Who could resist such a willing piece of arse like you?
Malfoy's hand on his shoulder suddenly stilled Harry's motions. Neither of them had said such a thing, but maybe they had both thought it, and that was enough. Malfoy twisted away from him. Harry watched him with a sort of horror on his face. And a sort of pity, too. And regret. "I'm so- I – I can't," said Malfoy, finally. He pulled the shirt Harry had been about to slip off his shoulders, back around himself.
"I'll go and sleep somewhere else," said Harry, "you stay here, okay? Get some sleep."
"No," Malfoy's hand on his wrist, "no, I'll go, it's your room."
"Malfoy I am not letting you leave like this. Come on, let's get you under the covers." Malfoy allowed him to gently to put him to bed, quietly. Harry clambered off the bed and located his t-shirt again; thinking it best to cover himself up, look a bit less… naked. He turned back briefly. Malfoy was staring at him with a pink face and large eyes.
"Stay here," he said, quietly. Harry regarded him silently, lips pressed together. A tiny furrow appeared between his eyebrows, a tired one. Malfoy sat up and pushed some of the cover back, tentatively. "To sleep." Harry nodded.
He slid back into the bed, awkwardly, unsure whether to touch at all, or whether to erect a sort of barrier of pillows between them. The blond decided for him, trembling hand bunching in his t-shirt again, head nestled gently in the cavity between his chin and armpit. He felt the tension leave both of their hesitant bodies, kissed the top of the blond head softly and rubbed his jaw against the golden thatch soothingly. The hand released the crumpled fabric and long fingers caressed the spot where the now covered collarbones resided – a comfortingly familiar caress.
"I did think I… it's going to take a while."
Harry opened his closing eyes again and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "You don't need to do anything, Malfoy. This is enough."
"That can't be true," said the blond, sceptically.
"Try me," Harry murmured, staving off sleep. When Malfoy didn't reply, he finally succumbed to slumber.
When Draco woke up, it was still dim in the room, and it took him a few moments before he remembered that he was in Harry's bed, and in a lower part of the house without such good morning light. He remembered falling asleep in the Gryffindor's solid arms, cheek against the robust chest, and feeling oddly content, but somehow troubled with the disbelief that Harry would really think that lying about companionably was 'enough' for him after a few days of it. If there was one thing he knew the brunette lacked, it was patience. He was passionate, overwhelmingly so, and physical to the point of distraction. He doubted that he would try to take any sort of advantage of him, he was far too noble, but he might very well get bored and wander away if Draco made him wait too long for any sort of unfettered intimacy. And the Slytherin wasn't sure how he felt about that, apart from nervous. He hoped he was wrong about Harry. It was hard to read the character of someone so unpredictable.
Come to think of it, where was Harry? Draco frowned, stretching, then padded to the bathroom. He took a while sorting himself out and washing his face and neck, accioing his toothbrush from the bathroom on the floor above. Instead of sending it back upstairs, he set it on the side of the sink with Harry's. He looked at them for a minute before returning to the bedroom and poking his head round the door. He grinned and the tension in his chest dissipated like a breath of air.
Harry was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a tray laden with tea and toast set before him, a slice of which was halfway to his mouth. His faintly perplexed expression lifted at the sight of Malfoy's face reappearing in the doorway.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Didn't want to wake you. Want some brekkie?"
Malfoy gifted Harry with his rare half-smile. Harry beamed back with slight lunacy. "I'll have some breakfast, yes. Do refrain from saying the word 'brekkie' in my presence. Ever again," said Draco, dryly. He smirked, but impishly, as he settled himself back on the bed, facing Harry, his own legs folded beneath him, reaching for a piece of toast and realising that Harry had spread two pieces with marmite, which Harry himself loathed, but Draco was addicted to. The gesture meant something. If only he could figure out what.
Harry watched him eat quietly, a pensive smile on his face. Malfoy gave him a questioning look. "Kingsley's gone to work. We're not to kill each other while he's out. Also Moody's coming at about lunchtime so that he can use the study to do his paperwork."
Draco frowned at his toast. Moody particularly didn't like him.
"You won't have to speak to him, I doubt we'll see him."
Draco took a breath in, and out, but said nothing. Harry sighed and there was silence for a minute. The last time Moody and Draco had been in the same room, Draco had been wearing a mask and Moody's wand had been trained straight at his head. Harry pushed the tray carefully to one side and took the toast out of Draco's hand. It was dangerously close to spreading its topping all over the bedspread. He relinquished his grip on it silently, watching Harry's hand relocate it to the plate, and then take Draco's white hand in his own.
"I doubt he knew it was you."
"That's where you and I disagree. He knew exactly which one I was, Potter. Is this the fabled 'protection' I'm supposed to be getting?" Malfoy replied, bitterly. Harry shuffled onto his knees and drew the blond into him. It was a sappy hug, usually Malfoy wouldn't have allowed it, at least not at this time of the morning, but he did today. He raised his face up to Harry's, asking him to kiss him, which he did. For about a millisecond.
"Argh! Marmite!"
888
After re-brushing his teeth three times, albeit half-heartedly in contrast to Harry's efforts to rid himself of any traces of marmite, they wandered down to the library carrying their mugs of tea, elbows jolting each other sporadically. Draco leaned in the doorway sipping his lukewarm beverage, watching Harry locate his Charms notes, as Flitwick would be coming by after school hours to do their NEWTS lesson, and he'd set them a lot of homework which neither of them had finished. Harry was rooting under his desk, which compared to Draco's, looked as though a blasting hex had been hurled at it, his green t-shirt (the one Draco secretly preferred on him) riding up a little to reveal a flash of tan skin between the t-shirt hem and the waistband of his baggy jeans. He eyed the small area appreciatively, remembering what it was like to kiss it. One of the less hairy areas of Harry's physique, quite smooth really. At least he didn't have a hairy back, though Draco remembered him being much hairier than himself in most other areas. He wondered whether Harry felt manlier than he did. For being more hairy.
He was digressing.
He set his empty mug on the nearest shelf and settled himself at his own desk, locating his own carefully ordered Charms notes immediately.
'Subject: Charms.
Topic: Sensory Charms.
Professor Flitwick.
Self-oriented study: Read pages six through twenty-three of 'NEWT Charms Edition IV' then write a three inch summary on sensory charms. Practice the sensory charms affecting hearing with a partner and record the results in a statistical format (for guidance, refer to the chapter on recording charm outcomes), then repeat the process for sensory charms affecting taste. If you have time you may attempt the more advanced charms pertaining to sense of smell. DO NOT attempt to practice any sensory spells affecting eyesight or touch without a tutor present.
Lesson: Revision of sensory charms and discussion of practice, followed by practical experimentation of various NEWT level sensory charms.'
Draco worried his bottom lip, considering the homework. He glanced up to see whether Harry was doing his work, but in the lapse of attention he'd disappeared again. He sighed and pulled the text towards him, quill poised to start making notes to group into a summary. Five minutes later, a wrapped, but half-eaten, bar of Honeydukes chocolate fell onto his desk. He looked up to see Harry smirking at him.
"What?"
"Sensory charms taste tester."
"I haven't finished my summary yet and I want top marks."
"Spoilsport."
"Go over there and do your own summary, I'll tell you when I've finished," said Draco, bossily, but pleased with himself for not pandering to the Gryffindor. Harry pouted a little childishly at him, and then returned to his desk, leaving the chocolate behind. Draco sucked one side of his cheek contemplatively, and then ate a square. Potter said nothing to him, but he felt the green gaze train on the action and smiled to himself, picking up his quill again and finding his paragraph. He was finished writing his three inches, which he thought were neatly concise, a good deal sooner than Harry, who he'd noticed seemed to read the entire block of text first, then re-read it making notes, then try to find the best bits of notes in order to cobble something together. He was about to say something about it when Harry spoke.
"Can we do the sensory taste charms now? I'm hungry." He was still scribbling on his parchment, head bowed, but he was obviously talking to Draco. The blond glanced at the assignment.
"Hearing charms first. They must be easier otherwise Flitwick wouldn't have written them in. Chocolate comes after."
"You might make me go deaf."
"You might make me go deaf, and then I'd never hear you snoring ever again, but I think it's a chance I'm willing to take," said Draco, briskly. Harry looked up from his summary and stared at him for a second. Draco tried not to blush. "Stand up," he said.
"Hang on, we need another charm to get a reading on our hearing before and after each charm…" Harry began flicking to the section about recording the results of charm experiments. They worked carefully for a while, scared to do anything in a slapdash manner for fear of damaging the other's hearing permanently, but luckily Flitwick seemed to have judged their abilities well, and the charms went off without a hitch. They soon had a comprehensive bank of results and a written analysis (mainly written by Draco).
The taste tests were a lot more fun, and a good deal more chocolate-y. They had just finished writing the analysis when Malfoy turned the taste enhancing charm on Harry again.
"Hey wait, we've run out of chocolate…"
"Cast it on me."
"Trevellius… what-?" Malfoy leaned forwards and kissed him. "Oh."
"I knew it, I knew you'd taste good," he smirked dangerously. Harry groaned blissfully as Malfoy deepened the kiss. He felt a little as though Malfoy was being cruel, dangling something so tantalisingly in front of him, something he couldn't fully have, but maybe it was a test, and if it was, he planned to pass with flying colours. Their tongues slid over each other in a searching caress, and with the charm on him he could taste every last vestige of the chocolate in Malfoy's mouth, and a tiny trace of all the toothpaste he's made him practically gargle with to get rid of the last of the marmite (luckily he couldn't taste any of that), and the overwhelmingly familiar taste that was Malfoy's saliva. The thought should have turned him off a bit, but it didn't, it merely made him want to taste more, until he was practically lapping the corners of the blonde's mouth, and he was doing the same. It was a very primal, needy experience.
Malfoy broke the kiss when the need for air proved too much for them, and attached himself instead to Harry's neck. "Fuck, you taste incredible," he murmured, licking under his jaw. Harry tried to get a grip back on himself, practically pressed back onto his desk. Malfoy seemed to be more heavily affected by the sensory enhancing charms than he was, in fact his had nearly worn off now, whereas the one he'd cast on Malfoy was practically driving the other boy to distraction. "Oh God, do you want to try out the ones for touch?"
Harry pushed the blond off him, regretfully, and looked at him carefully. He'd cast too strong a charm on the other boy, he knew, and this was the perfect opportunity to end up taking advantage if he wasn't careful. He wasn't going to let that happen. "I think we should wait for Flitwick before we try any of the others," he said, gently. Malfoy gazed at him, panting lightly with sensation, before capturing his lips again. Harry kissed him softly, but refused to let him deepen the kiss. Malfoy pulled away again with a moue of uncertainty on his face, all eyes for him. Harry shook his head firmly, "I meant everything I said last night," he said, resolutely, "I refuse to take advantage of you. I'm going down to make us lunch; Moody will be here soon. Don't come down until you think the charm's worn off."
Malfoy appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes later looking as though he'd been crying. Harry's stomach clenched, and he went to him straight away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have cast it on you."
"It was my idea."
"That's no excuse."
Malfoy frowned at him. "Yes it is. It was my idea and if you'd been anyone else you would have cast the touch enhancing charm too when I asked for it, and fucked me right through the fucking desk when you know I would have asked for that too. Don't patronize me, Potter, it doesn't become you or me. I thought those charms would help me get all… intimate, and they did and it felt fucking amazing, but you're too fucking noble to do anything about that because we're tiptoeing around each other like we're terrified to do anything wrong, and that's the truth!"
"Stop swearing at me when I haven't done anything!" Harry exclaimed angrily, pinning the Slytherin into the doorjamb. He reached up and kissed him painfully, passionately. They broke apart almost immediately. Malfoy glared redly at him, humiliated. "You're right, I am terrified of doing anything wrong, of touching you wrong," said Harry, desperate tears forming behind his lopsided glasses. "I might be many things Malfoy, but I am not a bloody rapist. You can't even imagine how much I want you, how beautiful and perfect you are, you never see it; it's bizarre to me how little you think of yourself. It's torture not being close to you!" he was crying, and it was intensely embarrassing. Malfoy was still glaring at him. "Don't dangle yourself in front of me like it's some sort of test, Malfoy! I've told you I'm sorry for the things I said, what more do you want? I'll lie next to you and do nothing about it every night, I have that much resolve for this, just don't make me play these stupid little games, I hate them and they do you no favours either." He paused, panting.
"You're hurting me," said Malfoy minutely, glancing down at Harry's hands on his arms. They were so rigid that the knuckles were white. Harry released him, forehead creased so tightly that it must be painful.
"I need to go upstairs or somewhere. Lunch is on the counter. Let me know when Flitwick gets here."
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Not hungry."
888
"Hello."
"Hi."
Malfoy fiddled with the sleeve of his robe. "Flitwick's here. He's getting set up in the dining room." He cast a look of regret at the Gryffindor who was in the middle of doing some maintenance on his broom, a pair of brush-tail clippers in one hand. "Still pissed at me?" Harry sighed quietly and shook his head, but his expression remained sober. "You know we're both way too high maintenance for all this," Draco continued, lightening his tone a little, "with all the emo angst, it's a wonder we haven't killed each other."
Harry quirked a sort-of-smile, "you know Hermione referred to me as an emo too, maybe I should be worried."
Malfoy chuckled, leaned against the doorframe. "Can we relax again?"
"Hope so. You know Malfoy, I really meant it. This is nothing about sex. I want to be with you, and if you let me make love to you again, at any point in the future, near or far, then that's something different. I'm happy just being close with you, I wouldn't ask you for anything else, not when I know how you feel about it sometimes."
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"I don't just believe it, I mean it. Now it's just us here, mainly, we've got a chance to make a go of it, you know?"
"I know," Malfoy replied, softly, still with a slight air of disbelief. Mainly one of hope.
Later that night, they lay entwined, shirtless, in Harry's bed, skin touching for the first time since before Christmas. Harry was careful, hands only caressing his partner's biceps before looping round his back, loose enough for him to easily disentangle himself if necessary, fingers tracing nowhere near the glittering Dark Mark, which he had given no attention to, although he had naturally thought of it, as Malfoy seemed to view this area as strictly taboo, the source of all shame, and so he was careful not to draw attention to its existence. Malfoy's fingers found their hold on his collarbone, and they breathed in tandem once more. He felt different this time. Hopefully the new understanding would hold up better than the last.
888
Nearly a month passed and the house began to fill up more frequently with Order members; Voldemort was on the move again. Draco was summoned a couple of times, though as far as the Dark Lord was concerned, Snape had given intelligence that the Malfoy boy was still at Hogwarts, and so his summonings were very infrequent. Harry spent each night when Malfoy was not in the house in a state of solitary nervous collapse, staring blankly, red-eyed, at his NEWTS revision notes, until the tale-tale quiet click of his bedroom door behind him alerted him to the fact that Draco had come back. He was terrified of the thought that Draco might die and leave him on his own. The thought plagued his waking and sleeping thoughts, and often he was awoken by a concerned pale face hovering over him, telling him to wake up, "you're having a nightmare Potter, come on, come on wake up, I'm here…" he never told Malfoy what the dreams were about.
With the influx of odd houseguests, he didn't get to sleep with Malfoy very often, certainly not every night. Keeping their 'relationship' a secret was vital because there was no way they'd be allowed in the same house alone together whilst under school protection if they were seen to be anything like as intimate as they were. Which granted wasn't that intimate at the moment, but it was enough not to be allowed by any stretch. Harry sometimes felt bad for lying to the Order and his professors, particularly Dumbledore, but he didn't want to be apart from Malfoy again, not when they were both trying so hard, and doing so much better.
There was a gentle click and a low flicker of wand light cast a gentle glow into the room. Harry smiled and turned over as the door creaked gently shut and someone whispered a quiet locking charm. The wand beam fell across the bed.
"I knew you wouldn't be asleep yet," Malfoy whispered. He slid into bed and muttered, "nox." This was another of their unwritten, unsaid agreements. Malfoy always came to Harry, not the other way round. It was easier that way, and helped Harry understand how intimate the Slytherin wanted to be, if at all. He was still at a loss to know exactly why Malfoy found intimate moments so difficult, but it didn't bother him quite as much now that he'd started to relax and just go with it. And he had been right in his own estimation: being close to the Slytherin was more than enough to satisfy him, and more than he deserved too, probably.
"Can you see me?"
"You're like a black blurry outline right now. Why, can you see me?"
"I haven't got my glasses on, I can't see anything in the dark." His hand brushed Malfoy's stomach by mistake. He heard the sharp intake of breath, quickly quelled. "Sorry," he muttered, quickly.
"S'okay," Draco breathed. He traced the curve of Harry's neck, could just about make out the outline as his eyes adjusted in the dark. Sought the ridge below. Heard Harry make the noise, the soft half-gasp. He kissed him somewhere about his chin. It was slightly stubbly already; he'd only shaved that morning. "Mmm, you always make that noise."
"Make what noise?"
He touched his cool lips to the base of Harry's hot neck, and then grinned triumphantly. "That noise. That 'mpfh-ha!' –how I know I've got the right spot."
"Well you always touch me on the collarbone first," Harry whispered.
"Do I?" He traced them again, feeling. "I like them, they're nice."
Harry laughed a little breathlessly. "What if I got really fat and you couldn't see them anymore?"
"They'd still be there," said Malfoy. Harry noted that the fact that Malfoy would still be there to touch his collarbones if he got really fat was the material point.
"And your toes curl when I touch your scar," Malfoy whispered.
"You always used to open your eyes when-" Harry stopped talking and shut his mouth quickly. He was getting carried away in the unexpected sensuality of the night.
"What?" Malfoy was breathless and it was making Harry feel giddy. His soft lips covered Harry's for a moment, almost breathing into him, the way they kissed them they knew they had to be really quiet, because you couldn't cast silencing charms on the rooms in Grimmauld Place in case they set off the wards. Sometimes kissing could be surprisingly noisy business. Maybe it was best that they hadn't been getting in any way more physical… Harry hadn't been paying attention and now Malfoy was almost on top of him, one of his hands was entwined with his gently, the other was bracing him on the bed, the way he was breathing, so soft but ragged, shit… "I always used to open my eyes when I… what?"
Harry breathed frantically. Malfoy was too close. His skin felt cool against Harry's own burning limbs, his ribcage was aching… this was too cruel, stop it, stop it… "When you… when…" there wasn't enough air suddenly. He gripped whatever he was holding a little tighter. Malfoy's hand.
"When I what?" speaking almost into his mouth.
"When you came!" Harry blurted. For a second he thought Malfoy would tear himself off him and go back to his own bed. The last time either of them had given the other that kind of release was their last night together before Christmas, and it had been more than two months since then.
But he didn't tear himself away.
Lowered his panting mouth to Harry's and plundered it savagely, leaving him even more breathless, if that was possible. His hand slipped out of Harry's and onto his stomach, which already glistened with sweat, the sparse black hairs wilting from the heat of the bedding and the other boy on top of him. Harry turned his head away, panting, trembling, skin like liquid wax, dripping down his body, pooling at his groin… "Please, stop, you're being cruel."
"No," Malfoy turned his head back. They stared at each other in the dark. Harry could just about make out Malfoy's eyes glinting at him, but apart from that he was almost blind. His throat was dry with want, and he swallowed in an attempt to wet it with some saliva, which he seemed in desperate need of. Malfoy was looking down at him; Harry knew he must have felt how hard the Gryffindor was for him. It wasn't fair to torture him like this – he could put up with a lot, but Jesus, he wasn't a bloody saint. He could hear Malfoy's laboured breathing above him, feel it on his neck. The hand was still flat on his stomach. It was too much. "I want you to make me come, Harry." Harry inhaled sharply but didn't reply. Malfoy licked his lips. Harry heard it. Felt it. "I want you to touch me. I want it tonight."
Harry was shaking. He hadn't known how much he wanted the Slytherin to let him pleasure him again until he'd got the command. He slipped a leg between the blonde's and turned them so that he was half on top, so that Malfoy wouldn't feel trapped. He wouldn't do too much, not tonight, just enough. Certainly wouldn't be making love to him. Not right now. He felt Malfoy's arousal against the top if his hip and knew that he wouldn't touch that, either. The desire, the need, it was palpable, but so was the magnitude that he had to do this right.
He laid a quivering hand flat on one of Malfoy's burning pectorals. He was startled by how hot the Slytherin's skin was; it was usually pale and cool to touch. He lowered himself onto the other boy a little more certainly, slotting their legs together, bringing their chests closer. They were both wearing pyjama pants, but Malfoy's naked torso, that was enough for him, he felt like how he remembered, smooth and perfect, not hairy like Harry. He pressed his lips to the base of the white neck, nuzzled the Adam's apple gently with his nose, fingers below tracing tentative patterns with the tips of their fingernails. He heard Malfoy moan not so softly, felt him tremble. He pulled himself up to capture the blonde's lips in a slow kiss, quietening them both. His heart was hammering in his throat.
He found the bud of a nipple and caressed it lightly. Malfoy gasped hotly into his mouth, and they broke for air, briefly. "Oh… yes…" it was whispered, but he heard and felt it right through him, his thumb swept the nipple again, worried it. He thought they might both be close. Malfoy arched up, kissed him briefly. "Use your mouth…oh God, please…"
Oh the sound of that wicked mouth pleading in bed… he bit the nipple gently, licked it. Malfoy was making quiet, gasping, panting noises, the sounds of someone biting their lip in desperation to keep quiet, "Harry… Harry I… I'm c-close…" he removed his mouth, rubbing his fingers over the area instead, teasing, reclaimed the blonde's mouth. Pulled away just at the last moment, to see the Slytherin's eyes fly open. Harry shuddered once and collapsed onto him, brushed the sweaty fringe from his forehead for him. Malfoy hadn't even had to touch him.
Do review, it's lovely of you.
skinnyrita xxxxxxx