Title: Pain Free
Author: Moonglowgirl
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R-ish
Words: 1,258
Disclaimer: JKR owns them. I just use them for my perverted fantasies and dreams. You sue, you get a beater car and two pennies.
As soon as he came in the door, I knew something as a tad bit off. His eyes didn't have that ever present glow, and he had this defeated look in his stance. Even though he was only 20, he had the air of an old soul, of someone who had suffered, and was still suffering.
So I did what I could. I was prepared to do anything to put the sparkle back in his emerald eyes, to make the lines of pain disappear from his face.
As soon as he was in arms reach, I pulled him into a hug. Not your everyday type of hug, but a hug that only another who has suffered and knows what the suffering is like can give. I gave him reassurance, hope, faith, and lastly, love.
The moment my arms reached around his thin, muscled frame, I heard the sound I had been waiting for. A single puff of breath, a sigh of relief. A sign that he knew that he was not alone in his pain and suffering.
I wrapped my arms tighter, as tight as I could around his chest, shoulders and arms. So tight that I could feel the beating of his heart, the tensions of his muscles dissipating, the hope returning to his body.
Then he wrapped his arms around mine.
I immediately understood what he wanted. He wanted to feel like there was something left in the world, anything that was worthwhile for him to do his job. What with Ron, Dumbledore, and Hagrid all gone, there weren't a whole lot of people left who would understand the kind of pain he was in.
They say the that the pain will diminish with time; I seriously beg to differ. For me, it's been a long five years, and the pain has not diminished one tiny iota. I doubt that Harry's pain would be any less after the years that have passed.
His arms tightened as did mine, and the hug turned into something deeper then a hug. My hands started to wander, just a tiny bit. Then a bit more. Running up and down, here and there, left and right, all over his back. Going a tiny bit into newly recharted territory. Further down his back, down to his sweet arse, and higher up his back, to the spot where neck meets back, to his highly ticklish nape.
I run my now twitching fingers through his ebon locks, and slowly begin a gentle scalp massage, something which without fail will turn him into a quivering pile of goo beneath my ministrations.
What were sweet little pants and sighs turn into full out moans, groans and pleas. He throws his head back, leaning his delectable neck on my arms, as he slowly gives into desire, allowing me to attack his golden tanned neck.
I attack the beautiful column that is his beck, and leave little, and some not so little, deep red and purple splotches and bite marks as proof that he is mine and that I've staked my claim for the world to see.
Cinnamon, musk and pine are what I taste and smell, and can almost feel. He says that I taste like vanilla. The fates must have had us in mind when they created us, for even our scents mingle and match, complimenting each other.
Once I'm sure that he is completely under the influence of desire, I slowly lead him backwards to our bedroom, sometimes stumbling because I can't see, or crashing into objects in the hope of being our lust-ridden bodies closer together.
Finally, his hand closes on the door handle, and we all but fall through the doorway in the hopes of getting to our bed faster.
He lands back first on our luxurious bed. That bed is the pride and joy of our whole flat, with it being big enough for an orgy, and oh-so soft so that getting up to face another day is a great chore.
My nimble fingers make quick work of his shirt buttons, and I assist him in the process of divesting himself of his shirt. My hands are aching, almost twitching with the need to touch his tanned, bare skin.
His hands are shaking, almost desperate in their attempt to get my shirt off. I push his hands away, knowing that it will be quicker if I do it myself, rather then let him try to do it in his current state of brainlessness.
As soon as his shirt hits the floor, I attach myself to his milk chocolate coloured nipples, placing little nips and bites around them, so that he is soon gasping and gibbering in pleasure.
His dark-honey skin beckons to my like a siren's song. Satin covered steel, the colour of amber or toffee, glistening with sweat, with faintly twitching muscles beneath.
A few dark little patches are all he has for hair, not that I'm complaining. They lead downwards, shaping into an inverted 'V', signaling that something much bigger is lower down, down below his delectable bellybutton and his quivering abdomen muscles.
My tongue soon follows where my roaming hands were only a minute ago. A slick trail of saliva staggers its way downward, branching off here and there, wherever I feel like going.
The lower I patiently go, the higher my dear hubby's whines and snivels are pitched. Until at last, my ears can take no more, for the pitch is close to piercing my delicate eardrums.
My hand slowly creeps around his splendid cock, and grips it firmly, making him gasp and shudder, mumbling sweet-nothings to the top of my head.
His hands creep up to my head, urging me to go faster, harder, but I bat them away, because really, who likes having their hair tugged and yanked upon during sex?
He seems to understand this, and lowers his hands to my ivory shoulders, where he is able to squeeze, kneed and grip to his heart's content without undue pain to me.
I ever so slowly move south, very subtly replacing my hand with my mouth. He is quick on the uptake, and knows that it won't be long before we are both passed out from desire.
I add suction around his trembling cock, and he makes this indescribable noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp. His hips buck upwards involuntarily, forcing his cock a bit further down my throat then I like. I don't gag, but it's a close thing.
I can feel him almost buzzing with pleasure, twitching, shivering, and making small little mewling sounds. There is a sort of tingling along the bottom of his luscious cock, and it is at this point that I know his release is coming very close.
A few more strokes of my hand, and one or two more licks and sucks and he is there. His hips arc into the air, thrusting into an invisible body, and pearly white come squirts out in ropey strings, some of which goes down my throat, while the rest covers my face, neck, and his lower abdomen.
It is during that one frame of time that I know he is free from the pain and suffering life has caused him. In that one moment, I can take some of his pain and let him be painless for one brief eternity. Freedom from his sorrow, carefree, and love is all I can give him in this short lifetime.
I do what I can do alleviate one poor man's pains and sufferings.