A/N: Thanks to Lori for her mad beta skillz and taking time out of her busy schedule to look over this for me. Of course, she's fantabulous, but any and all remaining mistakes are my own. The song and characters all belong to some who is not me... namely Rihanna, Eminem, and JK Rowling. I'm sure there are others as well, but the point I'm making is that I'm not profiting from this in any way. Unless you want to leave a review... *wink, wink*
"Destructive path that we're on, two psychopaths but we
Know that no matter how many knives we put in each other's backs
That we'll have each other's backs, 'cause we're that lucky."
I wince as he pushes into me; it hurts, but the pain is what I need. The pain keeps me grounded; it reminds me who we are together. Nothing has ever been easy for us, but I love the excitement, the uncertainty. I love him, just the way he is: sarcastic, difficult, spiteful, witty, charming, and sexy.
He's finally buried deep inside my body, and I'm so full, so whole. He has a bruising grip on my hips, and I'm pinned firmly between his body and the wall. The only sound I hear over the pounding of my heart is our labored breathing.
The tensing of his body is the only warning I get before he pulls out and thrusts back into me harshly. He pounds into me brutally, each snap of his hips a punishment that I gladly pay. His hair is in disarray, his lips are curling in a feral snarl, and his eyes are flashing fire. He's never been more beautiful to me.
Pleasure begins to overwhelm me and I moan his name as my eyes fall closed.
"No, keep your eyes open, Harry, look at me." He growls savagely at me and punctuates his command with a particularly hard thrust. My gasp brings a smirk to his lips.
"You are mine, Harry James Potter." I nod as enthusiastically as I can manage.
Suddenly, his hips rotate slightly and he's battering my prostate deliciously. My nerve endings are sparking dangerously and every muscle in my body is tightening, but I fight to keep my eyes open and focused on him. My prick is throbbing with need, but I ignore it and cling desperately to his shoulders.
He's fucking me so viciously that I can barely catch my breath. No one else could ever make me feel this way, and he wants me to know that.
"Are you close, Harry?" A jerky nod is all I can accomplish, and he releases one of my legs to wrap his hand around me and stroke. Once. Twice. Three times is all it takes and I'm coming, blinded by the sparks that flare just behind my eyelids when they finally close. My body arches wildly, but he stills, just supporting me - holding me almost tenderly through my aftershocks.
"Alright?" There's a little concern in his voice and his eyes, but as soon as I look at him and whisper affirmatively, he reassumes his grueling pace.
I know this game well. When we've had a particularly bad row, he loves to wear me down like this - multiple orgasms that I can only achieve with him.
He's becoming unsteady and unfocused. His body is twitching in that wonderful way that tells me he's on the brink. In a flash, his hands move from my thighs to tangle almost painfully in my hair. I'm literally pinned between his body and the wall and every sporadic thrust rocks me upward. I know that I'll be sore tomorrow - parts of me already are - but its worth it. I wish I had the energy or ability to reach climax with him. As his cock pulses in my swollen and abused channel, he lets out a low moan and nuzzles into my hair. He is finally unguarded enough for me to lavish his slender neck with affectionate kisses.
Consciousness comes to me slowly as the morning rays find their way through the drapes. I'm in our bed, and I don't remember how I got here, so I can only assume that he's responsible. I'm terrified to fully wake up, scared to open my eyes. What if he's not here? What if I pushed him too far and he left? I don't even want to consider the possibility that last night was goodbye.
I gather my Gryffindor courage and let out a sigh of relief when the first thing I see is his face. He's staring at me from across the pillow and those penetrating grey eyes are cutting into my soul. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing seems right. He sees my struggle and cuts me off.
"No, Draco, I swear. She was just-"
"Don't, just don't. I don't care for you to explain just now. I don't want to talk about her now, or maybe ever. I just need to know that you aren't sleeping around." There's steel in his voice and his face is unreadable.
"I'm not, I promise."
He's silent for several minutes and I try to think of some way I can reassure him when he speaks again.
"Why didn't you just say something, Harry? Why didn't you tell me you were bored, or unhappy?" His voice is dripping with pain. I hate to see him so confused and unsure.
"I wasn't bored, I just didn't like the way things changed. Suddenly it was like we were two different people. Can you remember the last time you screamed at me? How about the last time you were so mad at me you couldn't see straight? Do you know how long it's been since you've slammed me against a wall? Or fucked me dry because it was either that or hit me? That's us, baby. That's how we are and I love it. I live for it. I spent so many years facing excitement at every turn, that the monotony of my daily life kills me. But, I get through it because here is where I find my challenge. I never know what to expect with you, and I wouldn't want it any other way."
"But-" I hold up my hand to stop him; I need to say this - right now - or I may never get it all out.
"Then, you just stopped. You started to agree with everything I said; you went along with everything I did. I didn't know what to do. So, I turned to Ginny for help. She tried, she really did, but she just didn't understand. I would have stopped spending time with her, but I started to notice how jealous you were. I knew you thought I was sleeping with her. I was just waiting for you to say something. I thought I could provoke you if I kept seeing her; I didn't think you'd walk out on me."
His eyes are gleaming suspiciously when he finally finds his voice, "Harry, do you remember what happened the last time we had an argument?"
Of course I remember, "I fucked you over the kitchen table and it was possibly - not counting last night - the best sex ever."
He gives me an incredulous look and shakes his head, "Before that, don't you remember?"
No, I really don't. I have no clue what we fought about. Maybe I left my socks on the floor? Was it over who would win the World Cup? Or which set of friends to invite for dinner?
"I don't know, Draco, really. All I can recall is how bloody fantastic the sex was. So, it must have been one hell of a fight." I grin a little at the memory, but my smile fades when I notice a tear making it's way down his pale cheek.
"I hit you, Harry. You had a black eye for days afterward. I felt like shit."
"Why?" I'm so lost. I can't even begin to imagine why he'd be upset over that. I can't count the number of times we came to blows when we were younger. I don't understand why this is so different.
"Why? Because I love you, you bastard. I love you and I can't believe I fucking hit you. I want to wring your neck sometimes, but I don't really want to hurt you. I… I was scared after that. I thought you were going to leave me for sure. When you didn't, I thought I'd better make some changes because I didn't want to lose you."
I can't help the chuckle that bubbles out of my mouth as I wipe away his tears.
"It isn't like you beat me, Draco. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Besides, I'm sure I deserved it."
He pushes my hand off his face, "Harry, no one deserves to be hit by someone that loves them. I can't do that, Harry. If that's what you want, then maybe…"
"Don't even say that. I just need the real you back. I need you to be snarky and argumentative. I like it when you contradict me and demand to get your way. I love the fact that even though we're so obviously wrong for each, we work. And we do work, you know? I give you hell, and you give it right back."
He traces the side of my face with a finger and sighs wistfully. "I do miss arguing with you."
I laugh at the absurdity of the statement and shake my head, "Only us."
His eyes go serious again and he leans in for a gentle kiss. When he pulls away he smiles at me shyly.
"Yeah, only us. But, Harry? Can we do this sometimes too? Talk? I wouldn't even really be opposed to the occasional cuddle, if you are inclined." He blushes and bows his head like he's just made a horrible confession.
"I…" I start, but I'm not sure what to say. All I've been thinking about the last few months is what I need. I haven't really taken the time to consider what he needs. It's never really crossed my mind that he might want tenderness or affection.
"It's okay, I mean, we don't have to, I just thought-" He looks ashamed of his request.
"No! It's good. To be honest, the idea of snuggling you is very appealing. So, we'll fight, we'll fuck, we'll talk, we'll cuddle… Anything else?"
"Yeah, could we actually make love once in a while? Or, maybe go out for dinner? Oh! Could we go see a muggle film? We're always watching them around here, but I think I'd like to see one in the theater." His eyes light up and I think maybe he's even more beautiful happy than he is angry.
I'm beginning to realize that there are so many things we haven't done together. I make a promise to myself right then that we will do everything he wants and more. I'm sure we won't agree on which restaurant to go to, or which movie to see, but we'll work it out - over the back of the sofa, the kitchen counter, the wall, in an alleyway beside the theater, or just possibly in bed surrounded by candles.
Yeah, I think we need to explore all the things we could do together…