Author's Note: The first part was supposed to be it, but then I was asked to continue Paphian. I haven't written anything hardcore M in a while, sooo… XD;; I decided that I couldn't resist the temptation. However, this is the last part, so I hope that you enjoy it~ (I know that Harry and Draco did.)
PAPHIAN
- Neverland -
It was as dark as midnight down in the cell that had been assigned to the Boy-Who-Lived: midnight dark, pitch black that stroked across the chill floor in a way that would not be denied—it was utter oblivion, utter consumption, for nothing less would or could be settled for. It was the type of oblivion that coaxed away all thoughts, all inhibitions, leaving behind nothing but instinct and desire in its purest form.
Want.
Draco pressed his lips to Harry's pulse, letting his lips part so that he might taste the salt-slickened skin, learn how sweat beaded over the green-eyed teen's skin to trickle pathways—idle rivlets that led to nowhere. The Malfoy heir allowed his eyes to close as his tongue laved at the bend of Harry's throat, lingering to feel the thunder of the other teen's pulse harsh against the tip of his tongue, and it was with a moan that was barely stifled that he felt Harry's nimble, Seeker hands work at the buttons to his trousers.
"Make me forget. Make me remember. Make me feel like I'm alive," Draco whispered against the other's damp skin; he shuddered, then, when Harry's fingers wrapped around his cock to stroke slowly. The Gryffindor took his time in learning the shape of the blonde erection against the slightly rough skin of his palm, caressing up and down the flushed skin. Draco could feel Harry's smile, though the Slytherin could not see it: but that was acceptable, just as long as the other continued on with those slow, idle touches.
There was something magical about those touches, though Draco realized that there truly wasn't. This was a quick fuck in his family's manor home; there would be no promises of eternity with one another, no whispered endearments, no promises of love. But the blonde knew that that was something that he did not want, not now.
He needed to be reminded that there was something out there, something good, something that remained besides the Death that resided within the one-time hallowed halls of his ancestral home. The one thing that he had, once upon a time ago, considered sacred had been taken from him. Now... now, the boy was desperate to reply it with something, anything, that could remain untouchable within his mind. Something that could be considered pure, though still connected to this world -
And, here, he could find it in the welcoming warmth of Harry Potter's arms, the heat of his body.
"More," Draco whispered huskily as his hips began to move in tandem with Harry's strokes, loving the way that the other teen's fingers clasped him loosely for most of his length before tugging - just so - once svelte fingers reached the velvety skin just beneath the head of Draco's cock. To his surprise, though, Harry just chuckled in response and turned his head to the side to capture Draco's mouth with his own: kissing the pureblood, taking his time, learning the other teen's taste - the way, too, that Draco shifted just enough in an attempt to take control.
But none of that was allowed here, for Harry would only accept equality:
He rolled the two of them so that he was straddled over Draco's hips, one hand buried in the cornsilk of the other teen's hair, the other still sliding ever-so-slowly up and down Draco's erection. It was an exquisite sort of torture, one that soon enough had the blonde writhing in protest - wanting more, more, more - but being refused it all by a boy with gentle eyes and a sulky-sweet smirk.
"My pace," Harry murmured - his voice was firm, husky with restrained command, dark velvet that rubbed against Draco and had him gasping quietly and arching up. The dark-haired teen shook his head then, sliding his hand down to wrap fingers snugly around the base of Draco's cock, preventing him from any future release - at least just yet. "None of that," Harry admonished before he leaned forward and began to pepper kisses along Draco's jaw and down the elegant, well-bred line of his throat.
The Gryffindor took his time in exploring the bobbing of Draco's Adam's apple, lips parting slightly to seal around that bit of skin: he sucked lightly and Draco's head tilted back as the blonde saw stars - never before had he believed that that part of him would be so sensitive. "Potter..." he began, fully intending on scolding the other teen for the pace that he was setting. But Harry only laughed lightly once more - how could he be laughing like that at a time like this? - and shifted to once more steal a kiss.
Draco's hand buried itself in Harry's mussed hair, letting the unruly, rebellious strands wrap snugly around his fingers: he used his hold to draw Harry closer still, back to exploring that intriguing little chip that he had found during an earlier kiss. All the while, too, his free hand kept itself busy: tugging at the buttons to the Gryffindor's own trousers, uncaring in regards to whether or not he had ripped at the material. If worse came to worse, Draco would mend the tears with what few household charms he knew.
Right now, he wanted - needed, craved - heat.
The press of skin to skin, and it was so utterly perfect when Draco finally took his and Harry's cocks in hand to stroke them together - and the delirious perfection just increased to delicious amounts when Harry's lips parted further and the black-haired teen moaned throatily into their kiss. Finally, it was no longer one boy taking charge while the other lay back and embraced the pleasure: but full participation as they kissed, tongues stroking languidly as hips echoed in the erotic movement: rocking back and forth, forward and back, pressing close, closer, closest still while hands caressed and tugged gently - not harshly, but just enough to elicit broken moans in response.
Full participation, pleasure welcomed with open arms -
And Draco drank it all in as the feeling of rightness surged and crested and fell upon him when Harry Potter shuddered above him and finally came, splattering his belly with his come. The boy sagged slightly onto Draco's body, breathing coming quick and harsh as the dark-haired teen panted quietly against the bend of Draco's throat.
The blonde shivered in response before turning his head to the side, licking away a thin trickling line of sweat that had begun to bead over Harry's collarbone. "I'd like your mouth..." Draco whispered quietly - all uncertain teen suddenly, silver-gray eyes quiet with the expectation that Harry would refuse since he had already found his own climax. Gone was the arrogant little boy who had approached the Savior of the Wizarding World with full expectation that the green-eyed boy would fall at his feet in awe: that child had been dead and gone, not even a ghost, for the past several years and counting.
But that child had not expected to see the things that Draco had seen, had not expected to do the things that Draco had done -
He was no longer that child, but he still oh-so desperately wanted something to remind him that he was alive, that this was the present, that there was still something that remained in this world that was filled with heat - wanted something that would cause him to leave behind the chill of Death that clung to every limb, dogged every step -
And it was as that last thought lingered, echoing quietly in the vestiges, the inner depths of Draco's mind, the teen could not hold back a soft cry as wetwarmthheatyes encircled his cock. The blonde glanced down, gaze dizzy, and found himself looking at a slightly blushing Harry - was this the first time that he had ever done this before? Draco asked himself, thoughts dazed and subdued with gratitude - whose lips were stretched tight around the Slytherin's erection: swallowing experimentally as verdant-green flickered up to gauge Draco's reaction. That cautious carefulness, the dusting of rose-deep flush that fanned over the tops of Harry's cheeks - it flooded Draco with a sort of gratitude that he had never felt before, knowing that this boy who had embraced pleasure with him was inexperienced and yet willing to do as Draco had asked - because Draco had asked it of him.
The realization was enough to make Draco tremble, fingers shakily combing through Harry's hair in warning as the blonde finally found his own release: eyes screwed tight as his muscles went taut, head arching back off of the rags that Harry had been forced to use as a bed. Through it all, Harry swallowed and swallowed, hands gently caressing over the blonde's inner thighs - touch certain and surprisingly confident, only relenting when Draco collapsed completely upon the floor.
He stared up at the ceiling, blinking, and it came as a surprise when he realized that he was silently weeping.
Harry's fingers were gentle as they combed through Draco's hair, lingering momentarily at the nape of the other teen's neck before untangling from the raw silk to once more thread his fingers through the silver-blonde strands. Draco himself lay curled around the slimmer boy, rubbing a hand in idle, almost affectionate circles over the Gryffindor's belly and chest.
Neither said anything for hours, but it was Draco who eventually broke the silence: "I just want to live."
And Harry Potter, with eyes that were far too old for the youth of his face, shifted just enough to press a kiss to the top of Draco's head before continuing his idle finger-combing. He had a life-debt to pay and, perhaps, that was the reason for his choice in words when he finally answered the broken Slytherin, "You will. I promise."
.:End:.