Kisses From Draco
Author: hayden-clone (Clone)
Word Count: 453
Rating: M/R
Status: One-shot, finished, un-betaed
Pairing: HP/DM, slash, yaoi, shounen-ai, whatever
Disclaimer: Don't own. JKR owns all. I can only scare the HP het shippers with slash.
Yes, first official fic. Be gentle. If you hate slash, please, bugger off. This fic is maybe weird coz it is… something's wrong with it. I hope you guys could help and point out my mistakes.
There's no real spoiler, just something that I think would fit after HBP and stuff. HPDM is delusional, I know, but I still love it to bits, because you should know that JK wanted this pairing to be canon….-laughs-
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Kisses from Draco are hard to come by.
Kisses from Draco are something special; something he doesn't reward to just anyone. It was some sort of weapon, something wild like fire, something pleasurable when it is really poison.
It makes you need more of him, leaving you addicted to that unique taste, the taste of black, black sin.
And kisses from Draco usually lead to something else.
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Harry still dreams of that night, when they were seventeen. Both were hurt, both were cold and lonely. Their hearts were dying after so much torment.
Blood. Blood was everywhere. Bodies of people on the streets… Faces they once knew lay dead on the cold ground.
Both were desperate for a little bit of affection and hope. They found comfort in each other's arms.
They kissed.
And that kiss changed everything.
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Now, married at 19, saviour of the wizarding world, and newly appointed Head Auror, everyone must figure that Harry's leading a great and perfect life now that Voldemort is gone.
Each time he starts staring at that picture on his desk, his heart wrenched with guilt. It was not Ginny's fault, never her fault. He married her because it seems fitting at the time. After all, he owed the Weasleys so much, and with marrying Ginny he felt that his deed is done.
He still hasn't touched her even though they have been married for 6 months and still hears her crying inside the bathroom each time he gets home after a night with Draco.
He dared not to be honest and tell her of what's happening because he knew it would kill her if she knew of his trysts with Draco.
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All that was heard from the dark room were pants, groans, and moans. Other than that, just sounds Harry's cry of illicit pleasure.
And the air reeked of sweat and sex.
Slick skin gliding over slick skin, and the occasional slapping of skin.
His prostate keep getting hit, making his head dizzier and needing the next thrust of hips like the air he breathes.
He's getting near, and he keeps on panting, encouraging Draco more, and when he was at the edge, Harry searched for those lips and came.
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Draco was on the couch in front of the fireplace; his usual spot. He was staring into the fire with an unreadable look on his face.
"I am not your slut, Potter…"
"I know…"
"Does she know about this?"
"…"
"You know you're hurting her more, right?"
"Yes."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"Tell her"
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Kisses from Draco are intoxicating. Kisses from Draco are dangerous.
That is why to Harry, these kisses are medicines to cure his dying heart.