Silence
15minuteficlets post for "Silence"
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry's POV (in my mind)
Word Count: 300
Warnings: None, other than an excessive amount of the word "silence."
Let silence overtake you, shield you from all that you do not wish to know. It is peace, a separate peace that nothing can taint. Silence. As the din around you seems to fade, as his eyes speak more than a thousand voices, loose yourself in the oblivion and fall into the echoing chasm, nothing around you but air. Trust in him. If all else you do shall fail, you still have this.
Silence wasn't always a virtue.
When you were young and ignorant (or just maybe innocent) the pretty boys around you danced and laughed and fucked, and it seeped into your skin and became a part of you. The music engulfed you; the thudding beat, deep and sensory and vibrating in your ears, reverberating through your sore and blistered feet. The smell of sweat and moisture in the air, pungent in your nose, trickling down the smooth skin of your face. You danced and laughed and fucked, and feared the silence of your soul.
Silence used to be your sentence, your punishment. Now it is your only chance of revival.
His warm hand in yours, fingers interlaced and soft; his breath in your ear and his body next to yours, silence holds everything that repression could never give you. His lips on yours and teeth and jaw and collarbone and throat and yes and fuck and all other manner of whimpered things, melting with the silence around you. Blend, mix, and combine; air and voice and want and lust. His name falls from your lips easier than any curse, any endearment, and any apology. With physicality there is no need to feel. Not truly. When the inevitable can not be escaped, let the silence overtake you, and shield you from all that you do not wish to know.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry's POV (in my mind)
Word Count: 300
Warnings: None, other than an excessive amount of the word "silence."
Let silence overtake you, shield you from all that you do not wish to know. It is peace, a separate peace that nothing can taint. Silence. As the din around you seems to fade, as his eyes speak more than a thousand voices, loose yourself in the oblivion and fall into the echoing chasm, nothing around you but air. Trust in him. If all else you do shall fail, you still have this.
Silence wasn't always a virtue.
When you were young and ignorant (or just maybe innocent) the pretty boys around you danced and laughed and fucked, and it seeped into your skin and became a part of you. The music engulfed you; the thudding beat, deep and sensory and vibrating in your ears, reverberating through your sore and blistered feet. The smell of sweat and moisture in the air, pungent in your nose, trickling down the smooth skin of your face. You danced and laughed and fucked, and feared the silence of your soul.
Silence used to be your sentence, your punishment. Now it is your only chance of revival.
His warm hand in yours, fingers interlaced and soft; his breath in your ear and his body next to yours, silence holds everything that repression could never give you. His lips on yours and teeth and jaw and collarbone and throat and yes and fuck and all other manner of whimpered things, melting with the silence around you. Blend, mix, and combine; air and voice and want and lust. His name falls from your lips easier than any curse, any endearment, and any apology. With physicality there is no need to feel. Not truly. When the inevitable can not be escaped, let the silence overtake you, and shield you from all that you do not wish to know.