A/N: This is almost a sequel to 'Irreplaceable' that I wrote a thousand years ago! But it was pretty and inspired by a picture of Draco Malfoy Tom Felton that I chanced across just about an hour ago before I wrote this beauty.
Ohmygosh! It's like seventy days to A LEVELS and what the heck am I doing not studying!
Please review, btw(: and scold me for not STUDYING.
dedicated to the lovely tom felton, in all his gorgeous man-beauty :D
completed: 10:54pm; 24th august 2009
Wide, open grey-blue eyes, adorned with blonde eyelashes long enough to look quite nearly feminine (but not so that he lost a single breadth of his masculinity), stared up at me from where he was currently at, seated, cross-legged with his arms splayed out on one of the cardboard boxes still remaining from our unpacking. Twin bangles, one slightly thicker and set in silver while the other boasted a darker chrome shade slid down thin, pale wrists as he lifted his arm to stretch out before me, high in the air. One might interpret his gesture as male preening, but I knew him better. He was tired, as was I, from all this moving and unpacking.
A small smile graced his features as I shut the door behind me with the back of my foot and removed my favourite pale pink cashmere scarf (a present from when we first started dating) and set it curled up at the base of the bass guitar that was rested against the new, cream and pastel couch (purchased upon his extravagant parents' insistence). I walked over and slid gracefully into his arms, and old, practiced habit of mine, and rested against a lean, bare chest. One arm came to embrace me across my collarbone, and I noticed the spray of tiny dark moles that were like little constellations across his pale skin, and I smiled. I wanted to kiss each one, leave my mark upon all. They would taste deliciously like him, only in smaller quantities. A shiver of something unconsciously flooded my being, and I started to trace my nails across his bicep, feeling the slight wedge of muscle flex lightly as he reeled from my light touch.
He nuzzled my ear, and it was my turn to shirk away from the fluttery, ticklish sensations. I pulled back and pursed my lips in amusement as a lock of messy blonde fringe fell into his eyes, those clear, blue-grey eyes, and I wanted to brush it away. I reached for his cheek to cradle it in my palm, to feel the warm tautness of lovely skin and those cheekbones, and lovely, dark circles around his eyes. My thumb caught his bottom lip and it was pulsing warmth beneath my skin, curved and pink and soft. I lingered there, for a moment, as his tongue prodded my thumb almost inquisitively, and the feel of warm, wet lickings against the skin were wonderful. And then, a sharp nip, as he bit playfully into my pad of flesh, and I retracted my hand in faux-effrontery, only to suck my thumb back into my mouth and lick away at his wonderful taste.
Mischief swam in those laughing blue-grey eyes right then, and he languidly arose and pulled me up against him, flush, such that we were body to body and soul to soul and feet to feet and it was as though being with him had never felt so right before. there was a genteel passionate pleading in those once stone-cold eyes, now ablaze with mirth, with glee, with giddy teenage-love (even though we were so long past those years of foolish naivety), and they looked down at me with such unbridled love that I could hardly stand it.
So I kissed him. Threaded my fingers through those blonde strands and brought his lips down to meet mine.
There was nothing hidden about it, not like in the past where we used to arrange many a secret rendezvous in empty classrooms, in dark closets, and, when we grew older, hotels, bedrooms, offices. Now we had our own place- and only one thing left to do, and that was to mark it as our own.
His lips blazed a trail down my neck and I snuck a hand under his shirt to trace my fingers over his slightly muscled torso, curving my palm over the V of his waist and then sneaking back around to trace circles at the base of his spine, knowing it would make him shudder. He sucked in my earlobe and blew hot, whispery air into it, softly uttering little nonsense love words to make me even still more exhilaratingly in love (or lust).
He pulled back once, brushing my hair away from my eyes and kissing the tip of my nose, making my eyes crinkle in unabated joy, and nothing else. This was love, and this was now.
Perhaps our kisses weren't as frenzied as they were when we were mere reckless teenagers, unsure and unknowing. And there was no bed (it'd arrive on Thursday, said the movers), no soft blankets or extravagant rugs. We couldn't afford to ruin the expensive sofa, either.
So the parquet floor would have to do. And, very much later, the kitchen walls would be used, too, though quite in a different fashion altogether.
Then afterward, maybe we'd attempt the coat closet near the front door.
The twin smiles of contentment were hard to erase from our faces that night.
And no one could've asked for a more beautiful love.
maybe a greater thing will happen
maybe all will see
maybe our love will catch like fire
as it burns through me
what a beautiful smile
can i stay for a while
on this beautiful night
we'll make everything right
my beautiful love.
-beautiful love, the afters