fox cubs learn to hunt, spinning tops, Holy Shit - Father John Misty

Harry woke to skin unsticking. He opened heavy eyes and his body instantly protested, happy to be boneless.

"Sorry," Draco whispered, crawling back in blankets. "Window was closed."

Harry grunted sleepily and pulled him in blind, gathering him in tight arms, as cold air swam over his bare skin. Dew and salt started, mingling with something sweeter; a warm clot of sweat, skin, of new. The room smelled of male.

Harry blinked, lifted his head. It was pale dawn, not day; thick milky fog hid the sky, wool white and bare pink like foal skin. Dark silhouette trees still asleep, soft songs of hatchlings.

He met his storm eyes. Draco smiled a crooked crease, and looked worn and young.

Harry felt coated in someone else.

He scooted over blurrily, limbs catching and Draco laughed as Harry suckled his neck, hands curious down a body open to him. Puncture of inner hip, softer hair at the back of his thigh. He lumbered Draco's leg over his hip, tugging him over.

"Hey," Draco laughed, straddling him, chest to chest.

"Hey," Harry found his voice thick with sleep, and squeezed Draco's thighs to move him.

Draco's breath caught, but caught on. He followed, rutting in long strokes pulled and pushed by Harry, who ground up harder against him. "Hey," Draco said, a hitched breath.

Harry found a hand, and directed it to find purchase. It gripped him securely, and moved swift and determined; Harry moved into it unapologetically. He pulled Draco in when a tremble ran in him, less kiss and more tongue. "Hello," he breathed into him, and came.

When the rhythms calmed, he heard Draco laughing, sighs and wordless murmurs in breaths, settling back. But Harry jumped up to reciprocate, fist firm and Draco made an agreeable noise, stirring closer.

After, Draco spilt into a spiel, flicking his wand around in agile hands, about the virtue of Vanishing Spells.

"And I'm glad you're a wizard." "And that you're cleaner than I am." "And that you like morning sex." "And that you'll like Silencing Charms better."

Harry mumbled along, eventually shoving him down, crowding him with limbs. "Okay," he wiggled, growing lax. "Okay, sounds nice. Sleep now."

"Are you even awake?" Draco prattled, and Harry heard fingernails click. "Did you just sleep fuck?"

"Yes," Harry squirmed, burying into covers. "Good night."

Draco was quiet and unmoving, and Harry peered an ungrateful eye at him. On an elbow, a wickedness lit his eyes, as he watched Harry. "I want to suck you off."

Harry jerked, eyes shot open. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Language, Potter."

Harry stared, gaping. "But I just – !" He gestured down at him.

Draco's smile grew, eyes bright. He shifted down, inspecting with careless fingers and flicks so Harry jerked. Draco hummed thoughtfully.

"Okay," he jumped up like a deer. "Coffee break." In springs he ran out, naked. "Don't get dressed," he called back.

Harry stared, at nothing. "What the fuck."

He hadn't forgotten Draco's attention span. Because when he didn't spring back, Harry lay for a long while, mind blank, before shouldering on something soft from the floor and pad out, rubbing his face.

And his erratic energy. He found Draco in a bout of sleep on the rickety couch, flopped, forearm over his face and lips moving softly, the corners pale purple in the lightless room. A half-drank mug sat on the floor; his drooped fingers trailed to it. The coffee looked dirty. His hand moved in quick fingers around his ribs, as if pulling them closer around him. Harry's brow creased, looking down at him. A body he knew so well, but then again;

His hands looked old in the pale grey light, all dry skin and nails. The cold colour stain of his nipple, white pebble nub, the apple of his throat. Concave of collarbone, triangulation. Grains of hair down his legs, a fine dust, darker at his groin. The long rumbles of hill, in thigh muscle, the bones of his knees. Slight hollow of his outer hip over his rear, in shadow.

He grabbed a scratchy blanket from the bedroom and clambered under Draco's arm.

Draco stirred. "Mmm?"

"Mmm." Harry collected him, pulling an arm round his middle.

"Oh," Draco tucked himself in, hid his face. "'Mmm'." He curled their ankles, and became still.

X

He woke to fiddly hands in his back pockets. He looked over his shoulder, to light and growing wind, things hitting the tin roof over his head in an eclectic dance, like bubbling river over rocks.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled.

"Salvaging. You're not cleaner than me." Draco withdrew his hand, and Harry heard a fumble of paper. "Your clothes are like hoof tracks."

"Stag." Harry settled back down, lulled by the tin pings overhead.

"Lion." He heard paper flick and crumble. "What's this?"

Harry turned to frown at him over his shoulder. He took the unfolded thin paper, and felt a smile at the shading. "Oh," he thumbed over the invisible words. "Luca."

Draco paused. "Luca."

Harry held the slip to his face, scrutinizing. "Detective work."

"Oh, stalking."

Harry met his eyes, close enough to see cloud patterns, and raised brows, and Draco stared, unyielding. His lips twitched.

Harry huffed, a smile cracking. "Sure. Let's call it salvaging."

Draco hummed, "Pillage and plunder," and caught his elbow, wrestling over him gently. "Why are you wearing clothes," his voice vibrated Harry's neck, lying flat. "Stupid clothes, stupid man," he tugged back his open shirt.

Harry smile spread, sighing before something flashed, and he frowned mildly at it, stretching under Draco. "I think Luca and I had a moment."

Draco went still, hands fiddling with fabric. Then they erupted, in motion. "Right." He wrestled with Harry's pants, undoing unzipping quick. "That'll do it."

Harry blinked. "What?" Draco tumbled graceless to the floor with a thud, hooking Harry's leg to follow. "What." Draco poised Harry's feet on the floor, apart.

Draco tugged him bare, pants round ankles and handled him rough. Harry flew back flat, head dipping back, and swallowed hard. "What. What's happening."

"You started it last time," he felt Draco's stare, at his body responding, catching on quicker than his mind.

"Explain."

"Bossy," Draco knelt up, notched into something deliberate, poised; familiar, and Harry's heart stopped.

"Oh shit." His voice ruptured. "Do you want to think – talk about –"

"No." Draco tugged his knees towards him, to nestle between, and rubbed large hands up his thighs. "I've wanted this too long."

He kissed gently, and Harry breath caught, froze at lips moving soft around the head, a gentle flick of tongue. Draco met his eyes. A careful gaze, and Harry gave a brief nod. Draco beamed, a flash, before he leaned up and slid quick, to engulf him whole. Harry gave a yelp, and Draco's shoulder's twitched, a curved smile.

Harry watched with wide eyes, lips slackened. "Oh," as his body exploded in nerve. "Oh, you've definitely done this before."

Draco hummed a laugh, sending shock waves. His fingers dragged on Harry's hips, tugging him closer, and gripped tight.

"Oh shit," Harry said, flush. "You're good."

Draco made a delighted noise, and met his eyes. He winked, before sinking down.

Harry laughed breathily. "You know," he lay back, stretching his arms back and watching light catch on dust motes. "You've jumped into everything pretty eager, for a tease." He jiggled his hips up, and Draco looked up. "You should've made me work for it."

Draco couldn't seem to help himself, and emerged with a wet noise. "I swear to God Potter, you're so goddamn smug. I knew you'd be this arrogant in bed –"

Harry laughed in loud echoes, fingers dancing in Draco's hair – but shot up and silenced, when he plunged down again. "Fuck, what –" he lost himself.

A spaceless timeless moment later, Draco surfaced. "If I'd have known this would shut you up –"

"Just –" breath turbulent, his hand found hair blind, directing. "Just shut up, keep going."

"Good God," Draco said. "He's bossy and he begs," he said to no one, but the rest was lost in a mouthful.

Harry laughed until it became noise, breaths and moans, moving into Draco as much as he could, in hands, in hips; but Draco took him. Met him, with every move and more, with obsession, a delighted ritual. Licks and mouth full and hollow, flicker and rolls, sucks and strain. Sporadic and rhythmic, like everything else he did. His body in waves, pull and push of pleasure. And when Harry built, in tension, in a violent groan, at the gates, Draco clamped down – and in tight shoulder discs contracting and claws, he swallowed him whole.

"Are you fucking kidding me –" but Draco was senseless, didn't acknowledge him. He did, however, flick up electric eyes when Harry found ground, tugged the tip of his ear, a nail on rim. And it hit; Draco worked him through it, slow and indulgent, lingering.

Breathing hard, Harry pulled him in with a swung arm, collapsing on him on the floor and in kiss, toppling. Draco laughed, legs wrapping, shoving at his thighs to pull him close.

"You're amazing," and Harry could taste himself, which almost made him reel back, but with an explorative tongue he found he liked it; the proof of it, physical strain of him. The permanence.

"My ear," Draco said into his mouth, voice crackling raw. "My ear, Potter."

Harry moaned a laugh, and began bucking, holding hair to watch his face ignite and lose.

"Tell me it was the best," Draco's eyes shone.

"You needy shit –"

Draco cackled wildly under him, in loud drums and rips, writhing and teasingly scratching down his back, and Harry murmured into him in chants, "best, best, best."

"I know," Draco gasped. "I think it'll be my next career move."

"You're insane." Harry found grip, and moved relentlessly, so Draco crumbled, eyes wide. "You're actually insane."

X

They didn't get dressed.

Draco lounged, hacking back fruit husk and sucking fingers, or pranced around, in pride and play, and Harry found he simply couldn't; Draco would be there, frowning and fumbling it off. He eventually gave up, gave in to every advance.

He wanted to tell the world that Draco Malfoy was a storm. White and fairy feather air, full brew and black, lightning and electric. He could be fucking adorable in sex, asking meaningless questions, half-phrases and spiels – "How are you doing that" "Where did you learn" "Since when and where and why" "Who are you Harry Potter" – In constant shock, constant intrigue. Revolving and unrolling himself into it like a landscape, trekking and experimental and probing. A godless religion; babbling commands and encouragements, subservient to his own power, laughing at himself and it all; like Harry was the landscape and the Cause, something picturesque, worshipful. Or else inviting others and no one, his imaginary mind friends; his narration and drawl, narrating Harry's laugh and noise to the air, his body and fire.

Mindless. But all mind; he was this beautiful, frenzied thing. An outpour, of all he was.

He found Draco shivering outside, eyes narrowed and unaware, thumb and finger lodged on his protruding hip. Harry chinned his shoulder, drawing a blanket around them.

Draco watched the cream sky, clouds silken skin and stretched out. In brush strokes by wind, like sea foam and paint leaks. Curdled clumps at the skyline. And breaks, in the clouds with freckles of light. The grass swam in tides like lashes and blinks, swept in a single stream. Evening light rusted the plains, to sand and russet like back muscle, folding and arching over each other. Silhouetted mountains in the distance very bodily as if the body hadn't left it, and stood before them.

"Pretty place," Draco smiled over at him.

Sunset hit the horizon like an inner crease of skin, pink fold. He could hear Draco's moans in the bowl howl over moors, and licked a neckline.

Draco considered him, eyes flickering, before he spun in his arms and knelt down on his knees. "Just watch it go by."

Harry stroked his hair and grinned down at him, his fast work. "You're a dream."

Flat tongue thanked him.

X

"I knew you'd be like this," Draco's fingers stepped down his back later, pulse coming down. "It's the same as when you're flying."

They lay with a crackle of fire and storm tunes overhead, on worn carpet, enveloped up. Moulting in the night and shadows, in the sharp sour scent, of sweat and body and male. Harry could taste it in Draco, his skin hollows and lines, rough follicles and patterned hair; he could taste it in himself, under his fingernails, in the dips and webs of his hands; the mash of their skin, bittersweet.

He leaned up to look down at Draco. "What do you mean?"

"It's like …" Draco looked away, mind stepping off. "It's like when you eat. You eat with your hands. You suck every last bit off your fingers, let it play in your mouth." He drew lines around Harry's mouth, nail on his lip. "You coat your lips," he whispered. "Savour it all."

Harry frowned down at him, amid a smile; Draco looked enraptured and soft.

"And when you cook," Draco's lips flickered, watching him. "You're … there, the whole time. Sauces and spices, fumbling and laughing. A great mess. Active body. No recipe, no end product."

"Even though you like my food –"

Draco pressed a finger on his lips, to gently silence him. "And in Potions, you watch everything, feel it all. All under your hands."

"Speaking of Potions –"

Draco tugged his bottom lip and shook his head slightly, amused. "And when you wake up, it takes you forever. You make a whole thing about it. Grumbling and groaning, blinking at the day, to place yourself. You feel it all, over you."

Harry watched him, his mind play out in his face.

"You roll up your sleeves, all rough and gruff, so it's sloppy but it fits, like fits you perfectly so it becomes you, and whatever you're about to do."

Harry shook his head softly, thinking.

Draco stroked up his cheek, and watched his mouth. "You put life into everything."

Harry's lips parted, but nothing came out. He leaned to nibble, then capture lips; Draco fell into it. His lips were a wondrous thing, and after a sunken moment Draco shifted, and Harry felt hard heat jab his hip. Like a finger, pointedly.

Draco leaned away, to lie flat as a tomb. "Come on," he whispered, and closed his eyes. "Worship me."

Harry stared, and felt a smile buckle. He moved over, and did just that.

X

The bedroom was a new place, new layers. A heaviness, as they lay in tangles of fingers and hair and limbs moving like whispers, in the stories it could tell.

Out the window, the moon was caught earthbound. The grass glittered like glass and stars, dew dark. The beds and valleys, milk white and dark honey and sweet silver syrup; it permeated the place, a moon coat. It kissed it spread; it sucked the colour, sucked the balm and marrow.

Harry stared at Draco, unnoticed, something sitting on his tongue. Draco watched clouds play with the moon, and Harry let it out.

"How long, Draco," he said quietly.

Draco didn't change. "Long," he said after a pause.

Harry made to shift closer, but chose against it. "Years?"

Draco sucked in his lower lip, brow furrowed, and didn't reply.

"You should have told me," Harry said quieter.

"When?" Draco's mouth tipped, into a false smile. "When you were post face-blown, in front of me in the Manor? Or dead, in Hagrid's arms? Or asleep, in my bed, when I'd fucked someone the night before?"

Harry was halted to silence. His stomach clenched but it felt empty.

"You should have told me," he said after a while.

Draco looked over, and met his eyes. "No, because," he paused, "maybe you just wouldn't have wanted to understand."

Harry frowned at him, and Draco gave a vacant smile.

"That's what you said," he said. "The first time you came over to the flat."

Harry felt that hot swell, from the night before, at half-truths and half-ins, and rolled gently off the bed. It was sick nostalgia that followed, crawling to the kitchen, at crawling through shadows, at night rises, at walking alone.

Draco was quiet, but Harry was attuned. He felt him behind him, as he prepped coffee, and fumbled with the kettle, clumsy loud hands in the dark.

He felt a touch on his waist, a soft hand. "Put some chocolate in," Draco said to his shoulder. And Harry closed his eyes, something falling in him. "It'll help."

He only opened his eyes when he heard couch springs adjust for weight. He put the damn chocolate in.

He watched the aquarium night outside for a while, until –

A light, in his peripherals –

The silver otter swam in, a ghost through walls and spoke to him in her voice. "McGonagall is suspicious." It paused. "We miss you."

It faded. Harry breathed in the dark, his breath stirring the still nothing. He unfocused on the grass whip outside, in their own time and rhythm.

He could feel Draco's stare from the couch.

X

They slept in a heap regardless, though Draco followed him too late to the bedroom. Harry slept restless, and at one point grew too conscious, and stood to stretch at the window, at the unchanged shades of night.

Draco's voice came quiet behind him, from the bed. "You want to go back."

Harry looked behind his shoulder shortly, but looked back, and thought. "I don't want to be anonymous."

Draco was quiet, and Harry crawled back into bed. Draco watched him carefully, and gave a small smile. "Anonymity is only temporary."

Though his face was shadows, his eyes were light, in white hairlines, grey petals.

Harry touched his jaw. "This isn't free, Draco," he said quietly.

Draco looked down, brow creasing slightly. "I'll make tea," he got up long limbed.

Harry watched, and felt a cold starkness start, like a cold drip. Temporary.

"You recognised me, didn't you," he said, when Draco came back to the room a moment later.

Draco was half down to the bed, but levelled up again.

"What?" Draco said behind him, slipping out.

In the silence, the kettle whistled.

But Harry knew Draco knew what he meant.

Dasein = Being in the World, the distinctly human phenomenon

watch Rufus - Innerbloom for the visuals, if you want to be at the cabin with them