A/N: Here's Chapter Four. Those of you who noticed the gap in between Harry's attitudes, let me know if that gap has been spanned. I'm deeply sorry that I forgot something that important.
***
He stopped fighting, outwardly. Inwardly he was still fighting with himself. Don't fight it. It makes it worse. It's much easier to fight battles like these when it's too late to change anything. Battles of conscience are tricky like that. I should know. Consciences are strong, but I've managed to beat mine into submission. I could show you, but I doubt you'd be interested. I removed his shirt, pausing at his nipples. He bites his lip to stop the sounds from escaping. He's bleeding now.
"Don't fight it. It's so much nicer if you don't," I said, taking his chin in my hands. He looked at me curiously. "Ignore it- the voice in your head. Tell it to wait."
"If you've been hearing voices, maybe you should see a doctor," he teased. Teasing was a good sign, very good. I captured his lips with mine. He doesn't fight me at all. He simply lets my tongue wander.
I pull away and look at him. His eyes are distant. His mind is somewhere else. *Smack* He snapped out of his reverie and reached a hand to his cheek, red where I had smacked him. I don't mind being hated, but I *won't* be ignored. He will be aware that I am with him, painfully aware, if necessary. I kissed him roughly. He gave a little cry before melting into it.
I pulled away and started to undress him. Again that passiveness. I don't know whether I'm aroused by it or just extremely annoyed. He makes no move to help me or hinder me. I guess it's his way of saying, "You can do this thing, but know that it's all you. Not me." And that will never do. Because this isn't about you or me. It's about something much greater than both of us, so don't you dare be so smug as to deny it. Go with it. Let it lead you.
"Let what lead me?" he asked. I started, not realizing that I had said anything at all.
"I think you know," I murmured, lips brushing his neck. I think he stiffened then. Perhaps he caught on to my meaning after all. I looked into his eyes, ran my fingers over his lips, ran my tongue over my own. "The conscience is a thing created by man. It's the essence of civilization, created so that people can be controlled always because of that tiny little voice doesn't let you sleep at night. What you feel right now is older than conscience. We were born with it. The desire building in you- you can't deny it or control it. For long." His eyes widened. Why am I telling you this? I've never told anyone this. "And I can wait," I added. He believes me. That much is obvious.
I explored his body, kissing, licking, biting every now and then to make sure he didn't drift away on me. He grew increasingly agitated, moaning softly, his hips moving beneath me. He hissed and arched upwards when I touched his member, stroking it with my finigers. I pressed my lips to his and was extremely pleased to feel his tongue snake its way into my mouth. His hands ran over my body. I pressed up against him and he pressed back, all reserve gone. You're ready, angel. Ripe like fruit and begging to be picked. God, this promises to be good.
***
Okay. A lot of new material was added. Let me know what you think. Please?
Luv ya-
J. Silver
***
He stopped fighting, outwardly. Inwardly he was still fighting with himself. Don't fight it. It makes it worse. It's much easier to fight battles like these when it's too late to change anything. Battles of conscience are tricky like that. I should know. Consciences are strong, but I've managed to beat mine into submission. I could show you, but I doubt you'd be interested. I removed his shirt, pausing at his nipples. He bites his lip to stop the sounds from escaping. He's bleeding now.
"Don't fight it. It's so much nicer if you don't," I said, taking his chin in my hands. He looked at me curiously. "Ignore it- the voice in your head. Tell it to wait."
"If you've been hearing voices, maybe you should see a doctor," he teased. Teasing was a good sign, very good. I captured his lips with mine. He doesn't fight me at all. He simply lets my tongue wander.
I pull away and look at him. His eyes are distant. His mind is somewhere else. *Smack* He snapped out of his reverie and reached a hand to his cheek, red where I had smacked him. I don't mind being hated, but I *won't* be ignored. He will be aware that I am with him, painfully aware, if necessary. I kissed him roughly. He gave a little cry before melting into it.
I pulled away and started to undress him. Again that passiveness. I don't know whether I'm aroused by it or just extremely annoyed. He makes no move to help me or hinder me. I guess it's his way of saying, "You can do this thing, but know that it's all you. Not me." And that will never do. Because this isn't about you or me. It's about something much greater than both of us, so don't you dare be so smug as to deny it. Go with it. Let it lead you.
"Let what lead me?" he asked. I started, not realizing that I had said anything at all.
"I think you know," I murmured, lips brushing his neck. I think he stiffened then. Perhaps he caught on to my meaning after all. I looked into his eyes, ran my fingers over his lips, ran my tongue over my own. "The conscience is a thing created by man. It's the essence of civilization, created so that people can be controlled always because of that tiny little voice doesn't let you sleep at night. What you feel right now is older than conscience. We were born with it. The desire building in you- you can't deny it or control it. For long." His eyes widened. Why am I telling you this? I've never told anyone this. "And I can wait," I added. He believes me. That much is obvious.
I explored his body, kissing, licking, biting every now and then to make sure he didn't drift away on me. He grew increasingly agitated, moaning softly, his hips moving beneath me. He hissed and arched upwards when I touched his member, stroking it with my finigers. I pressed my lips to his and was extremely pleased to feel his tongue snake its way into my mouth. His hands ran over my body. I pressed up against him and he pressed back, all reserve gone. You're ready, angel. Ripe like fruit and begging to be picked. God, this promises to be good.
***
Okay. A lot of new material was added. Let me know what you think. Please?
Luv ya-
J. Silver