Not Here
chapter 2
Disclamer: These characters are not mine. I make no money.
This is slash fiction, so if you are offended, turn back now.
beta'd by the wonderfully talented yasha-sama

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My eyes blink slowly open and, for a moment, I'm disoriented. But then I felt your heat, your body, and knew that I could never be lost. Not with you. I sweep my lips across your forehead, lingering on your scar. Most would call it a blemish, disfigurement. I call it lovely, striking. But then I'm not most people.

I use my tongue to spell out a word upon your brow: love. A word yet to be uttered from these lips resting upon your face. Not yet expressed by either of us, I realize. But then, it has to be that way, I suppose. No one knows, can ever know, about us. Except Weasly and Granger. But that was a necessary evil, if we were to ever survive the rest of the year. You knew we could trust them, and I trust you. With how much, you still don't know, and I'm not sure I intend for you to find out.

I sigh and slowly attempt to disentangle myself from your arms wrapped close around me. Kissing the corner of your mouth, you moan and stretch slightly, giving me the perfect escape from your encircling limbs.

Peeking my head out of the curtains, I see that all beds but one are empty. I don't even want to think about that bed. . . Dressing hurriedly, I stealthily sneak out of Gryffindor Tower, almost getting caught by Peeves. Thank God for the alcove though.

As I walk towards the dungeon, I catch sight of the sky through a window. A bare light over the horizon. I tread rapidly now, even though the rest of my dorm won't be up for another hour yet.

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At my bed, I undress and slip under the covers, still thinking of you and your
stunning abandon as you let go completely last night. With just a thought, desire
invades my senses. That fact alone scares me half to death. But it also confirms what I know to be true. I love you. There's no getting around it.

The more I think of you, the worse my body becomes. It's nearly screaming for your contact. I drag my hands over my body, attempting to mimic your every touch, stroke, caress. I am so glad that I put up that silencing charm the other day. I really wonder what Crabbe and Goyle would think if they woke up to hear me groaning your name between the sobs that are welling up within my body. I can feel them. Bringing my hand lower, I ghost fingertips over my erection, as I imagine your hands, still so new, doing the same.

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That first time, your eyes were so big, seeming to say "am I dreaming? Is this really happening?". I held my breath when I heard the first words out of your mouth.

"So beautiful."

No one had ever said that to me. I felt so incredibly loved, even though you were just staring at my cock. At that moment, every hesitation, uncertainty, indecision was stripped from my brain, quickly replaced with desire, longing, yearning. If you had asked for anything right then, I would have given it to you, no questions asked. I had already given you that which was most precious to me, so everything else you would have asked for would have paled in comparison. You still have it, tucked away inside of you. With it, I am yours. Always. No one else can touch me. If you were to ever give it back, my soul would rend in two, battered and shredded.

~~~~~~~~~~

I'm panting as I realize how quickly my hand is moving, still trying to imitate your actions. My thumb swirling about the tip, spreading the fluid around the head. Bringing my thumb up to my mouth, I taste the sticky bitterness, imagining it came from you.

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That first night, with my arms around you, your head nuzzling under my chin, felt like perfection. Just an overall rightness with the world. I didn't know it, but I loved you then. I wish I could tell you now. Things would be so much better. But for now I have to deal. And imagine that you love me too.

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As I writhe underneath my touch, I envision your face, and how you would react to seeing me like this. It makes everything feel so much stronger, clearer. I come, professing my love for you, wishing you could hear my voice. After cleaning myself up, I grab my pillow and curl into a ball, trying to remember the happy parts of the evening.