My sincerest apologies to anyone who might have read this story right after it went up this morning. I didn't realize that FFn erased all of my scene breaks and, as pointed out by a reader, it was very choppy and abrupt without them. There are a lot of different scene changes in this story. Each one is separated by one of these now oOo because, apparently, that is all failfiction will allow. I'm shocked, albeit ridiculously flattered, at the number of people who added this to their favorites even though it flows so horribly without the scene breaks. Thank you all so much.
Title: The Weight of Eternity
Author: venis-envy (on lj: envy_venis)
Gift to: kitty_fic
Word Count: 20,851 total
Summary: Desperate for survival, Draco takes what he needs from others while avoiding the one he's meant to be with. His newfound compassion will not allow him to trap the one he loves, even if it means his own life is the price paid for Harry's freedom of choice.
Warnings: boysex, heavy petting, couch frottage, church-tongue rimming, and a whole slew of other things your mum won't want you reading...so please, oh please, adults only.
Author's Notes: This was fun to write. Never thought I'd venture into the realm of Veela, but here I am. Thanks so much to the ladies of lj do_me_veela community for putting this on and to my sweet friend gypsysuu_au for introducing me to this fun community.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
"It's easy once you get the hang of it," Harry says, turning away from the stovetop full of bubbling pots and sizzling pans and taking the colourful cube from Draco again. "It's all about skill and patience," he says as he twists and turns the sections of the cube.
"It's impossible to do without magic."
Harry chuckles. "No, it isn't. Watch. First you have to pick a starting point to focus on. We'll go with blue this time." He turns the cube until he locates a small blue square in the centre of one side. "The middle colour never changes. It's only the rest of it that you shift around."
Draco folds his arms petulantly, never taking his eyes off Harry's hands. "Rubbish box."
"Rubik's Cube," Harry corrects as he slides a row of blue squares into place above the centre one.
"It's dark magic."
"It's a Muggle toy." A few more twists and skilful turns and Harry sets the cube down on the table next to Draco, each side displaying a solid nine squares of matching colour.
Harry turns back to the food he's cooking and Draco scowls at the back of his head. Harry flicks his wand over one shoulder, levitating the cube up into the air and causing it to turn itself into a jumbled mess once again.
"Give it another try. You want to get a solid T of colour on each side and then you can begin to work on the remaining corners."
"I'll give you a solid T," Draco mumbles as he snatches the cube out of the air and leans back in his chair again.
"I'm not even sure what you mean by that, but I imagine it would probably ruin dinner, so maybe later, yeah?"
Draco fights with the evil box for the remainder of the evening until finally pulling his own wand out and casting a charm to rearrange the stickers and put them back in their correct order. Harry calls him a cheater, but Draco argues that it's merely logical thinking.
Later in the night, Draco falls into bed, tugging Harry down with him.
"Stay with me?" he asks, though he meant for it to be a firm command.
Harry nods. "Of course." Sitting on the edge of the bed, he strips down to his shorts, casting his clothing to the floor before lying down and pulling Draco against his body.
Perfect, Draco thinks again as he inhales the fragrance of Harry's skin. His need to bond has grown much stronger over the last few weeks with Harry, leaving Draco weak and wanting far more often than he is accustomed to. He isn't sure what he would have done if Harry had said no and gone home tonight.
Harry's fingers trace patterns in the bare skin of Draco's back, words and pictures that Draco's mind can't quite focus enough to decipher. All he can concentrate on is the way Harry's bare chest feels against his, the rise and fall of it with each steady breath.
Draco's fingertips dig into Harry's back as he works to hold him closer. He isn't sure where the sudden feeling of insecurity is coming from, but it feels as if Harry will disappear if Draco closes his eyes. It's all so surreal, he can't remember ever even being capable of even wishing for this and now he has it—has Harry—but for how long?
Draco feels an uncharacteristic anxiety washing over him, his body trembles with desire a he presses a kiss to Harry's neck.
"Hey, are you all right?" Harry asks, holding Draco closer.
Draco nods. "I just...I need..." he trails off, voice trembling, unable to finish. Draco finds Harry's lips in the dim light of the room and kisses him fervently. It's messy and desperate and Draco tries to contain his urges, but still manages to rub his thigh against Harry's growing erection despite his best efforts to keep himself together. It's quite clear to Draco that the Veela in him is demanding control, fighting with him to gain what is needed for survival.
He pushes Harry onto his back, never breaking their kiss as he shifts his leg again to slide his thigh against Harry's cock. Harry groans, his hands gripping Draco's arse and holding him firmly against his body.
"What do you need?" he asks when they finally break apart for air.
"I need to fuck you." Draco's voice is low and rough, full of deep-rooted need he isn't even aware that he is capable of.
There's a short pause before Harry responds. "Then do it," he whispers hotly against Draco's cheek. "Fuck me."
Draco exhales slowly, trying to calm himself and regain control. "I can't," he says. He shifts his weight so that he's lying beside Harry again, pressed close, pushing his fist against a closed eye.
Harry nips at Draco's jaw as his hand slips skilfully down the front of his pyjama bottoms. He brushes his fingers down the length of Draco's hard cock, eliciting a moan from him before whisper into his ear. "I respectfully disagree," he says as his fingers wrap around Draco's length. "I think you could fuck me quite nicely if you tried." His voice is low and rough and sounds like sex itself. Draco is certain that Harry could probably bring him off with nothing but words alone if he truly wanted to.
Draco shakes his head, trying desperately to hang onto his remaining composure. "Just let me touch you," he says, reaching down and taking Harry's thick, heavy cock in his hand.
He squeezes gently before finding a steady rhythm, stroking Harry's length while thrusting into the hand that's wrapped around his own cock. It would be so easy to just let go, to allow his instincts to take over, to fuck Harry senseless right now, but that isn't the way Draco wants it to be. He wants Harry to have a choice, not to be bound to him unwittingly.
Draco's tongue slides against Harry's, his thumb circling the tip of Harry's cock, collecting the moisture there and spreading it around. Harry moans and thrusts his hips, sucking Draco's lip between his and biting gently.
It takes all of Draco's strength and will to keep from abandoning his morals and climbing back onto Harry. He wants him—needs him so badly that he can hardly breathe.
He lets Harry set their pace, their movements slow and easy, but certainly efficient, and soon they are both groaning with the pleasure of release as power surges into Draco.
The following morning, Draco wakes to the feel of hot breath on the back of his neck and a strong arm draped over him. If he concentrates enough, holding his breath and pressing his back tightly to Harry's chest, he can actually feel the dull thrum of his heart.
"Good morning," Harry says, his voice scratchy from sleep. His lips brush against the hollow behind Draco's ear.
Smiling, Draco turns in his arms, placing a soft kiss on Harry's lips. He can't even be arsed to get up and brush his teeth first for fear of losing his place in Harry's warm embrace.
"I'm normally not a morning person, you know," Draco says, brushing Harry's fringe away from his sleepy green eyes. "But I think I could get used to this."
Harry presses a kiss to Draco's forehead, his lips lingering there just long enough for Draco to comprehend that he's actually checking for fever.
"How are you feeling?" he asks before Draco has a chance to say anything.
"I'm fine, Harry." Better than fine with you here, he adds silently. "You worry too much." Draco kisses the corner of Harry's mouth. "Give the healer in you a day off."
"I can't help it," he replies. "It's what I do."
"How did that happen, anyway? Everyone was so sure you'd go on to be an Auror or an Unspeakable. How did you end up at St Mungo's?"
Harry squeezes his eyes shut briefly, shakes his head, and opens them again meeting Draco's. "There was just so much fighting throughout my life. So much abuse and violence and war. As far back as I can remember. It was all I knew, but I was sure there was more. I wanted to help people, rather than tracking criminals, and becoming a healer sounded perfect for that."
"Well, you're really good at what you do. I think you made a wise decision."
"Don't say that," Harry says softly. "I haven't been able to fix you yet."
"But I'm not sick, Harry," Draco replies, and then presses his lips to Harry's before he has a chance to argue further.
"Unfortunately, I can't be touching you all the time so, here." Harry hands Draco a small phial of yellow liquid. "We're going to give this potion a try."
Draco sits upright, accepting the small bottle from Harry. They're sitting on the living room rug. It's quite undignified, but Draco doesn't care. With Harry, everything feels free and natural, comfortable and right.
Draco pulls the stopper from the phial and is immediately hit with a foul odour. He scrunches his nose. "What is it?" he asks as he quickly recaps the phial. "Smells horrid."
"Yes, well," Harry takes the bottle from Draco, "you aren't supposed to smell it. Just drink it. It's Contineo Tangere Potion. Yarrow flower roots, boiled dragonfly eggs, diced tongue of newt–"
"If you expect me to drink it, stop telling me what's in the bloody concoction." Draco snatches the bottle back, shaking it gently and turning it upside down to examine it. "What exactly does it do? I haven't heard of Contineo Tangere before."
"No, I imagine you wouldn't have. It isn't exactly medicinal. It'll give your body the sensation of being touched constantly. Normally, you would just put it in one particular spot."
Draco focuses on Harry through the moving bubbles and yellow liquid. He's curious to know where Harry found such a thing, but he decides not to ask. "But this is a drinkable version?"
"You can drink it if you'd rather not smell like that—which I assumed you wouldn't—or you can just apply a bit of it topically. Your arms, for example, or your shoulders. Really anywhere that you might need a comforting touch."
Draco raises a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes, even there if it suits you."
They both laugh like immature schoolboys.
"What about adverse affects?" Draco asks, dropping the playful tone. "I can hardly stand when my mother touches me. What if it's like that?"
"It shouldn't be. If you drink it, it will work its way from the inside out with your own body chemistry. Should provide a perfect balance. If it's used on your skin, it will mimic the touch that applies it. My professional opinion is that it would work more effectively that way."
"Topical it is, then." Draco smiles devilishly.
"Here, I'll help you," says Harry, taking the phial again and gently pushing Draco back down onto the floor. "Take this off." Harry tugs at the hem of Draco's shirt. "And these, if you don't mind." He taps the button of Draco's trousers, a look of desire clouding his normally crystal clear eyes.
Draco smiles and does what he is asked. It isn't the first time he has been completely naked with Harry, but typically, Harry is mostly undressed as well.
"I'm feeling a bit exposed here," Draco says as he stares up at Harry. "Are you going to join me?"
Harry shakes his head, gently running his hand from Draco's sternum to his hip and back again. "I have to go in to work soon. And besides, this is just for use when I'm not here to assist you with my own hands," Harry drags his fingertips across Draco's chest, "and my mouth." He leans down, flicking his tongue over one hardened nipple to emphasise his point.
Draco nearly groans as pleasure pulses through him with every delicate touch that Harry offers. He wonders how he was ever able to survive with those other people touching him. Nothing could compare to the feeling of Harry's hands on his body.
Harry drops kisses across Draco's ribs, each one warm and penetrating in a way no normal magic could provide. Draco's fingers ache to touch Harry, and it takes a moment for his mind to function properly and let him know that such a thing is allowed. He reaches a hand out, trailing his fingertips up Harry's forearm as Harry continues to kiss and touch him everywhere but where Draco needs him most. His breath is hot against Draco's skin, his tongue moist and warm. Draco longs to kiss him, but he is too distracted by how close Harry is to his hard cock right now, and he doesn't want to change his direction. He scrapes dull fingernails across the back of Harry's neck and up into his soft hair. Harry makes a noise of pleasure that brings a smile to Draco's face. The phial of yellow potion lies beside them, all but forgotten.
Harry, still fully clothed, moves to kneel between Draco's knees. His hands slowly move from Draco's thighs to his hips and then up his flat stomach. As Harry stretches out above Draco, a sly smile spreads across his face. His hands grip Draco's shoulders as he leans over him, their mouths just inches apart now. Draco wonders if Harry's goal is to drive him mad with desire before splashing some disgusting smelling potion on him and leaving for a ten hour shift at the hospital. He deduces that, if that's the case, he probably could kill Harry without feeling too horrible for it.
Draco's breathing goes from uneven and ragged to nonexistent as Harry slowly drags his lips across Draco's. Draco's tongue peeks out, but Harry pulls away slightly, denying him entry. His eyes are piercing and far less composed than he seems to be and Draco wonders if now would be a good time to ask Harry to fuck him. He would almost be willing to beg, if necessary. His whole body aches with need.
With his nose, Harry nudges Draco's jaw, coaxing him to tilt his head back. Harry scrapes his teeth along the skin of Draco's throat, tugging gently, kissing occasionally, but mostly just driving Draco insane with want. He can feel the heat radiating off of Harry's body above him, the magic, the power. Draco craves it, needs more. He wants to rip Harry's clothes off of him and lick every inch of his skin.
Before he has even a chance to try and remove Harry's shirt, Harry is sliding back down Draco's body again, lips pressing to sensitive skin and sending shockwaves pulsing through Draco. Draco's hard length is pressed between his belly and Harry's chest and he already feels his balls tightening from the smallest amount of pressure. The lightest touch from Harry is, apparently, enough to set him on edge.
Harry sits up straight, his hands massaging Draco's thighs as he gazes down at him. Draco grips the fibres of the rug beside him, trying not to thrust upward, trying not to show his desperation. Harry reaches beside them, taking up the small phial and removing the stopper. Draco holds his breath, not willing to allow the horrid aroma to spoil his mood. He watches as Harry drizzles some of the potion across Draco's hips, massaging it in gently before dripping more onto his fingers. Harry tilts his head, all the while maintaining eye contact as he slowly moves lower. Draco can feel warm breath against his cock and he shudders with pleasure.
"Please," he whispers, still watching as Harry stares up at him. He isn't sure what he's begging for—fingers in him, mouth on him, both—he just knows he needs more, feels he will die without it. He rests his head back against the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.
There's moist pressure against his perineum, massaging slow circles. He doesn't dare open his eyes to see whether it's Harry's tongue or fingers. It doesn't matter. The sight of either will likely send him over the edge and he wishes to prolong these feelings for as long as possible.
The unmistakable feel of a wet tongue licking a stripe up the underside of Draco's cock elicits an uninhibited groan as his fingers twist into Harry's hair. But when he gets to the tip, Harry does not take Draco into his mouth as expected. Instead, he drags his tongue back down to the base, placing an open-mouthed kiss there before moving lower still. Unable to resist any longer, Draco lifts his head to watch. Harry's fingers are between Draco's legs, rubbing small circles into the skin behind his balls while Harry kisses and licks Draco's sac. His lips tug gently at the sensitive skin before he sucks it into his mouth, moaning and sending vibrations throughout Draco's lower half.
"Oh, fuck." Draco hisses in a sharp breath.
Harry kisses the base of Draco's cock again, but still does not take it into his mouth. With his free hand, he urges Draco's legs farther apart. Draco has never in his life been more exposed and vulnerable, but with Harry, there is no reason to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious. He hooks one leg around Harry's back spreading himself shamelessly. Harry dips his head down, pressing his tongue flat against Draco's entrance. His fingers dig into the pale flesh of Draco's thigh holding him open, his tongue stroking and thrusting. Draco has never allowed anyone to touch him there before, but he's certain it wouldn't have been like this if he had. A desperate groan escapes him as he reaches down, taking his cock into his own hand and squeezing.
Harry grabs Draco's wrist, pulling his hand away and pinning it to the ground beside them. "Mine," he growls before pushing his tongue into Draco again. He licks and kisses Draco's most intimate area while Draco moans, biting down on his bottom lip until he tastes the tang of blood on his own tongue. He's never experienced anything like this before, the bit of possessiveness Harry showed when Draco tried touching himself, the delicate force he uses to pin Draco's arm to the ground, the careful ministrations of his tongue, all the while sending power and magic dancing upon the air currents. It's almost too much.
When Harry's lips slide up the side of Draco's cock again, he is certain the entire world will end if he doesn't come soon. Harry's moist finger pushes slowly into Draco's entrance as he finally wraps his lips around Draco's cock. The sensations are so overpowering that Draco has to forcefully lift his head again to keep from blacking out. Harry's finger, gentle but firm, thrusts into Draco as his mouth mimics the pace he's set, moving up and down Draco's length. He takes him deep, tongue massaging as his finger hooks inside him, and that's all Draco can handle. He's surprised he was able to hold off this long. Heat pools in his belly for only an instant before Draco is coming hard as Harry swallows around his cock. He shudders again, soaking in the power of the atmosphere around him as Harry pulls away and slides back up Draco's body.
"You taste so fucking good," he breathes against Draco's lips before dragging his tongue across them, begging entrance. Draco parts his lips, sucking Harry's tongue before tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He has never allowed another to kiss him with the taste of his own come on their tongue before, but with Harry, nothing feels wrong or dirty or shameful. It's all right and good and–
"Perfect," Harry whispers as he finally pulls away. Draco's heart warms and he wonders if Harry has any idea what he meant when he used that same word to describe him weeks ago.
It's as if he's slept a full night for the first time in years, waking with a new outlook on the world. Draco feels invigorated, replenished in a way he didn't know was possible. Everything is brighter, clearer, beautiful.
He laughs at the ridiculous thought, shaking his head to rid his mind of it. For nearly two hours after Harry left, Draco could still feel his hands on him, his finger in him. The effects of the potion weren't nearly as long-lasting as Harry had hoped, but Draco found that it worked fine...if "fine" meant that he couldn't go out in public for fear of passing out with the force of some otherworldly orgasm.
Now that it has worn off, along with its appalling aroma, he has no problem leaving to do a bit of shopping. He wants to get Harry something special, but he isn't sure what. Something to tell him thank you for being there, for caring. A gift that will mean something to Harry, just as everything Harry has done for Draco means something to him.
When he passes the window to Miriam's Magical Kite Shop, there is no question in his mind that this is the perfect thing for Harry. He selects the most brightly coloured nylon box kite with a ten foot tail of multi coloured ribbons. He can't give Harry back the childhood he missed out on, but he can certainly try to offer him small pieces that seem to be important to him.
He stops by the grocers on his way home, selecting some disgustingly aromatic imported coffee that he is certain Harry will like, along with a few other things. After being at home for so long recently, Draco doesn't want to leave the warmth of the sunshine outdoors, but as the day progresses he feels his power and energy draining. By the time he arrives back at his flat, he is absolutely exhausted. He's scarcely able to disengage the wards from his door before dropping his bags on the floor and collapsing onto the couch, silently reprimanding himself for Apparating to his building. He should have known this would happen. The longer he puts off mating and bonding, the weaker he becomes after each encounter with Harry.
The ache in his bones radiates outward, singeing his nerves from within. The pain is bearable in comparison to what he has experienced, but still too much. Draco tries to hang on to the feelings of this morning, Harry's hands on his body, his mouth, his tongue, all of the things that make Draco feel alive and well. The things that make him feel loved.
Harry enters the flat hours later. Draco sits in the corner of the sofa, knees drawn up as he hugs them tightly, his wings wrapped around him. He's so cold, and his vision has begun to fade this time, blurring and casting a hazy shadow over everything in sight.
"I'm guessing the potion didn't work all that well," Harry says.
Draco shakes his head, blinking back tears that he refuses to shed.
Harry sighs. "Look...I know what's going on. You need to find your mate, Draco. You can't put it off any longer."
Draco's head snaps up, his eyes struggling to focus on Harry who is leaning against a wall across the room. "What?" he asks weakly. "You mean–"
"I have endless resources at my disposal," Harry cuts in, his voice sharper than Draco has heard it recently. "Libraries of books, friends all over the world, people who are willing to tell me anything I want to know. I never take advantage of any of that, but I couldn't just let you die. Did you think I wouldn't try to gather as much information as I could?"
"So, this whole time, you've known I needed to find my specific mate, and you were okay with that? Touching me, kissing me, being with me just for now until I find the one I'm supposed to belong to?"
Harry's gaze falls to the ground between them. He buries his hands deep in his pockets and shrugs before looking up again. "I'm willing to be a temporary thing for you if it means I get to be with you sometimes. And when you do find your mate, you won't need me anymore, but I'll still have the memories of what it was like to have you for a little while."
Draco's heart aches at Harry's words.
"So, you don't know then," Draco says, more to himself than to Harry.
"I know that you need to find your mate soon or you'll die. I know that, as much as it will hurt me to hand you off to someone else, I'd rather you were happy and alive."
Draco swallows the lump in his throat. "It's you, Harry," he says softly. "You're meant to be my mate. It's always been you." Draco's voice catches on his last words. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I tried...in the hospital."
Harry's eyes grow wide, his chest rising and falling heavily all of a sudden. "That's what you meant when you said you would quite literally die without me?" Harry asks. Draco nods. "I just...I thought it was just a sexual thing. That you just needed something, not me specifically."
"Only you," Draco replies. "And, to put even more pressure on you, you should also know that I'm completely, stupidly, madly in love with you. I can't live without you. I can hardly even breathe when you aren't here. And even if it weren't for this Veela rubbish, I'd still feel the same."
Harry crosses the room quickly, dropping to his knees beside Draco and pulling him into a slow, tender kiss that clears Draco's vision.
"You know I love you, too, right?" he murmurs against Draco's lips before kissing him again. "Oh god," Harry groans, fisting his hands into Draco's hair. "You have no idea how fucking relieved I am. I thought I was going to lose you."
Draco can see by the look in Harry's eyes the intensity and truth of his words. He truly does love Draco. Harry's hands tremble slightly as he cups Draco's face, kissing him over and over.
The pain eases with every press of his lips, but not enough. Draco is still weak, his nerves raw and tender.
"No one else," Draco says softly. "Touch me, Harry. I need you," he whispers before pressing his lips to Harry's again. "Please."
Harry brings his hands down the sides of Draco's face to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. "Where?" he asks as his thumbs trace along the edges of Draco's collar bone. Harry's touch is soothing, like cream on a burn. His breath tickles as it fans out over Draco's neck.
With little effort, Harry coaxes Draco's feet to the ground, parting his legs and moving him closer to the edge of the sofa. It's a more comfortable position for both of them, neither of them stretching or twisting awkwardly now. Draco lies back against his wings as Harry makes a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses across his abdomen while his hands continue to caress every inch of exposed skin he can reach. Draco's fingers comb lazily through the soft strands of Harry's hair as he watches him, beautiful and his, and so fucking perfect.
Harry's arms wrap around Draco's waist as he presses his face to his stomach. "Are you in pain?" he asks, looking up at Draco through thick, dark lashes.
Draco starts to shake his head, but catches his lie and quickly corrects himself. "Yes." His skin aches everywhere that Harry is not touching him. It isn't as painful as it was, but it does still hurt. He doesn't want to lie to Harry anymore, doesn't want to hide things. "Your touch is soothing though. I need more."
"Can you stand?" He doesn't wait for an answer, and Draco isn't sure he would have been able to give him one anyway. Harry rises, pulling his shirt up over his head and helping Draco to his feet. Wrapping his arms around him, Harry holds him in a warm embrace, pressed together tightly, skin to skin, from hip to shoulder. "Bedroom," he says simply, as he turns them toward the hall.
"If you try to carry me, I'll hex you," Draco says tiredly as he rests his forehead on Harry's shoulder. Harry is supporting most of his weight anyway, and still manages to manoeuvre them both quite gracefully toward the room.
"You really aren't in any condition to be threatening me with hexes," Harry admonishes.
"Fine," says Draco as he allows himself to be lead backwards down the hall. "Then I'll bite you."
Harry dips his head, kissing Draco's neck and sucking at his skin. "Not necessary," he says, gently lowering Draco down onto the bed. "Already here. No carrying required. Though, I won't argue if you want to bite me anyway."
Draco smiles, slipping a hand behind Harry's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Harry's mouth is warm and welcoming and only then does Draco realise that the air in the room is still so cold, or maybe it's just him. In any case, Harry's own heat and radiating power help to warm his skin and Draco struggles to pull him down closer, craving the comforting press of his body. Harry sits on the bed beside Draco, leaning down over him and takes his hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his wrist. His teeth scrape deliciously against the tendons there and Draco shudders, momentarily distracted from his original task. Shifting positions, Harry places a light kiss on Draco's stomach before setting his hand down gently. Harry tugs at the button of Draco's trousers, skilfully unfastening it with one smooth motion. He pulls Draco's trousers and pants down over his hips, leaning down to place a kiss on each hipbone before lowering them farther.
When Draco's clothing is completely discarded, Harry proceeds to remove his own. Draco watches, mouth watering, as the tendons and muscles in Harry's arms shift sensuously. Harry stares down at him from his place near the end of the bed, his eyes raking over Draco's naked body.
Slowly, Harry crawls up the bed, straddling Draco's thighs and causing him to groan and toss his head back into the pillow as Harry's smooth cock slides against his own. Careful to avoid Draco's wings, Harry presses his fists into the pillow on either side of his head. The sweet smell of arousal twists its way through Draco's senses, taking hold of his mind. Power and magic permeate every molecule of air around them.
Harry leans down, inches away from Draco's lips, and hovers there for a long moment. Draco tilts his chin, craving the taste of Harry's sweet mouth, but Harry moves away. His lips press to Draco's ear, tongue peeking out to trace the outer edge before biting gently at his earlobe. Draco thrusts his hips, earning a low groan from Harry as his hot breath escapes in a shudder.
The room is finally beginning to feel warmer as more power surges between them, granting Draco a bit more energy than he had just seconds ago. He lifts his hands, pressing them to the solid muscles of Harry's chest before brushing his thumbs over hardened nipples. Harry groans again, his lips still pressed to Draco's ear.
"Fuck, I want you so much," he says, his voice lacking its usual quiet control. "Want to be in you, feel you around me."
All Draco can manage is a nod as he drags his dull nails down Harry's chest and stomach. He brushes his fingers against soft hairs on Harry's lower belly and exhales a shaky breath before kissing his neck. Harry slides his mouth along Draco's jaw, stopping at the corner of his lips and hovering there, barely touching as they breathe each other in. Draco's impatience is getting the better of him. He wants to twist his fingers into Harry's hair, demanding more, hard, fast, now, but Harry distracts him, sweetening the bitter taste of desperation with the warm slide of his tongue on Draco's parted lips.
He wants this to last all night, Harry's slow, sensuous caresses and soft, tender kisses, but Draco is still weak, unable to draw as much power from Harry as he had before. He knows his needs cannot wait much longer.
He looks up at Harry through pleading eyes, still unable to voice his needs. Harry seems to understand perfectly, though. He sits up, dragging his hands down the planes of Draco's chest and stomach, shifting his hips again to slide their cocks against one another. Draco's hands rest on Harry's hips, thumbs tracing small circles as he tries to focus on every sensation at once. Harry rises up, nudging Draco's legs apart and settling himself between his thighs.
He sucks a finger into his mouth, coating it with saliva before pressing it to Draco's entrance. Draco's cock twitches and becomes somehow even harder as he shifts impatiently. Harry's lips are slightly parted, his eyes locked on Draco's as his finger makes tight circles before finally pushing into him. It's agonisingly slow, but Draco knows that Harry is concerned about hurting him. He doesn't know Draco's level of desperation as he has done fairly well to hide it thus far.
Harry's finger strokes in and out, twisting and turning before he adds another. With his free hand—and no wand at all—he summons the phial of oil that he knows Draco keeps in his bedside table. He pulls his fingers out, drizzling a bit of the oil on them before sliding them up and down the crevice of Draco's arse. The look of concentration on his face would, under normal circumstances, be almost funny to Draco as he knows how determined Harry can be when he focuses. But there is nothing to laugh about now. Harry licks his lips, sliding his slick fingers over Draco's entrance again, teasing and taunting slowly with promises of what is to come. When he finally pushes into him again, they both groan with pleasure. Harry works his fingers diligently, stretching and opening Draco in preparation. The heat is finally consuming him. Draco's blood boils as he reaches up, pulling Harry down for another hungry, needful kiss.
"Please, Harry," he whispers against his lips, hating the desperation in his tone but unable to stay himself as his body trembles with desire. "I'm ready. Now."
Harry kisses his lips gently as he extracts his fingers. Draco feels the warm press of Harry's cock against his opening and suddenly, sobering realisation rushes over him.
"Wait," Draco says, pushing gently on Harry's chest. He knows it's the most inopportune time to stop, but his mind has been so clouded with need and desire that he has nearly forgotten one crucial fact.
Harry sits up, looking down at Draco with a concerned expression. "I don't know if any of your worldly friends or hundreds of resources told you this part," he says nervously, "but once we do this, we'll be bound together forever."
Harry's eyes grow wide and Draco feels his heart sink. He turns a hundred words over in his head in the span of a split second, searching for something to say to make things right. He knew it was a lot to ask of Harry, which is why he hadn't up until right now.
"Forever?" Harry asks, leaning over Draco again with a staid expression.
"It's probably...just me." Draco shrugs, casting his gaze about the room, looking anywhere but into Harry's eyes. "I mean, you aren't Veela. You don't have any strange, innate bonding magic. So, really you might not actually be...bound to me." Draco realises he's babbling nervously, but there isn't much he can do to stop himself. He wants to make sure everything is clear, no more secrets. "You'd probably still be able to...I mean, if you ever wanted to find someone else..."
"Draco," Harry says, gazing down at him. With a warm hand on Draco's chin, he tilts his face upward, green eyes searching Draco's as if he is trying to read his soul. He smoothes his free hand down the feathers of Draco's wing. "I don't want anyone else," he says, holding his hand up between them. In it, he holds a single white feather. "Only you. Always."
A myriad of emotions swirl within Draco as he looks at the feather, understanding it as a symbol of Harry's desire to keep him forever. Harry lowers his hand, slowly dragging the soft quill back and forth across Draco's neck and chest, tracing a path down the centre of his stomach all the way to his straining erection. He leans down, kissing Draco's stomach before rising up once more. He grabs his cock, pressing the soft head against Draco again. Their eyes meet, a hundred thousand emotions shared between them in the span of a single heartbeat.
And then Harry is pushing into him, slowly stretching and filling him and colourful lights explode behind Draco's eyes. The pleasure is edged by a faint burning pain that Draco is certain would be much greater were it not accompanied by the hum of power that emanates from his mate. His fingertips dig into Harry's shoulders as he pulls him down again, hardly able to focus on what he's doing through the incredible sensation of finally having Harry inside him. A slow crescendo of moans and gasps fill the empty spaces around them.
It starts soft, a steady thrum of power and magic pulsing from Harry's body and scraping over every nerve ending in Draco's, electrifying his senses. Draco's lips part in a soundless gasp before finding Harry's throat, licking and sucking and nipping at the smooth skin there. Draco presses his hands flat against Harry's back, enjoying the feel of muscles rippling as he moves. His tenuous hold on reality is eclipsed by the power he is culling from Harry in the heat of passion, and suddenly he is entirely unaware of anything around them. All he knows is Harry, the way he smells, feels, tastes.
Each upward thrust is met with equal, delicious enthusiasm as Harry's cock strokes sensitive nerves. Harry whispers hot, sweet words against Draco's lips, but he is unable to hear them all over the thundering beat of his own heart. The multitude of sensations is dizzying and Draco wraps his legs around Harry, taking him deeper still.
"Oh god." He tosses his head back against the pillow as his fingers twist into Harry's hair. "More," he whispers, his voice rough with a strange combination of desire and satisfaction.
Harry kisses Draco again, his tongue searching and memorising the shape of his lips, the feel of his teeth, before sitting up once more. Draco watches as Harry looks down to where they are connected, breathing in sharply before biting down on his lower lip. He takes Draco's leg, bringing it up over his shoulder and kissing his knee before resuming his tender, easy rhythm for a few more strokes. Harry pulls out slowly and Draco whimpers at the sudden feeling of emptiness and dread that grips him. Harry's hands hold Draco's hips and he looks into his eyes as if he's waiting for permission. Draco licks his bottom lip, mouths the word "please," and Harry slams back into him, hard and fast. Disorienting waves of power accompany lust, crashing over Draco like an angry tide. Harry's hand presses against Draco's stomach and quickly, Draco grabs his wrist. He needs something to hold onto to keep himself grounded, and what better than Harry, his very life force.
Wet sounds of skin slapping together fill his ears as Harry thrusts furiously. Draco feels an incredible warmth coiling inside him as his orgasm builds. A web of magic spreads across him and Draco can feel the invisible bonds tying them together. Harry pounds into him, changing angles with each thrust until it's just too much for Draco to take. He drops his leg from Harry's shoulder and tugs him down again. Draco presses a soft, wet kiss to his shoulder as he works his inner muscles, squeezing Harry's cock.
"I'm gonna come," he says breathlessly against Harry's skin before parting his lips and biting down on his shoulder as he reaches his blissful climax. Hot come shoots out over both their stomachs. He moans loudly, dragging his fingernails down Harry's back and squeezing his arse.
Harry gasps, stills for a brief moment, and then slams into Draco once more before he, too, is coming, pulsing within Draco and filling him.
They stay like this for a long while, Harry resting atop Draco, his cock softening within him as Draco runs his fingers up and down the length of his back. He can actually feel the binds between them now, powerful and unyielding.
Draco stands with his hands in his pockets, his face ducked down into his scarf as he watches Harry from across the park. It's early spring and, as Harry says, perfect kite weather. To most, this means sunny and beautiful with a slight breeze. To Draco, it means chilly and far too early to be out and about playing with toys when he should be tangled in his warm blankets with Harry.
Harry had loved the gift, just as Draco hoped he would. He did, however, insist upon removing all enchantments and flying the blasted thing the Muggle way. Which is precisely why it sat untouched in a cupboard for three long months. Draco had been slightly upset by that, but seeing the look on Harry's face today has erased all previous disappointment.
Harry smiles over at him as he tugs at the string and shifts the spool, determined to do things the hard way. To Draco's delight, Harry's grey t-shirt hugs his body tightly, showing every delectable curve of muscle, his own coat discarded haphazardly on the grass somewhere between the two of them.
Harry moves closer, tugging at the string of his kite, his gaze locked on the twirling ribbons of the tail. A great smile adorns his face, his eyes sparkling, and Draco thinks it may just be the most ridiculously perfect thing he's ever seen.
A gust of wind catches the kite at just the right angle to send it spiralling toward the ground. Draco discreetly aims his wand at it, casting a spell to carry it back up into the air again.
"See that?" Harry calls as he nears Draco. "It's all about skill."
"Yes, you're very skilful," he replies, feigning boredom.
Harry holds his hand out to Draco. "Please?"
As usual, Draco is unable to resist. He closes the distance between them, pressing his chest to Harry's back and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.
"You're ridiculous, you know," Harry says. "The scarf is entirely unnecessary. It isn't that cold at all."
"That's a matter of opinion."
Harry leans back, resting his head against Draco's shoulder and looking up at the kite flying above them.
"See? Worth waiting for," Harry says with a smile.
"It certainly was," Draco replies, not at all referring to the silly kite.