Fiction .... Let It Snow
I think anyone who has been reading either this journal or my other one over the last year will know that 2003 hasn’t been the best of years for me. It started with losing my beloved cat Thomas just before Christmas, then I lost my job of fourteen years in May and things seemed to go down hill from there.
If it hadn’t been for the wonderful support of many people on LiveJournal, I’m not sure just how I would have coped. I wish I could thank you all personally, but I want everyone who posted wonderful supportive comments to my journal entries to know how much they helped and how much they mean to me. I am grateful to you all.
The only thing I could think of doing by way of a thank you was to write something.
So here, for your pleasure, is a little New Years Resolution Futurefic.
R/NC-17 rated for naughty boys *g*
Written: 31st December 2003
The following ficlet is based loosely on the story Resolution.
********************
Wednesday 31st December -- New Years Eve 2003
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go...
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
The snow had changed from a gentle flurry to a steady downfall in the fifteen minutes it took the two young men to walk from the village to their little wooden chalet nestled on the outskirts. Heads down against the storm, they held onto each other both for support and pleasure, snatches of conversation and occasional laughter making it through the wind as they leaned close.
By the time they reached the protection of the building, the daylight had completely faded and, sheltering under the wide, overhanging eaves, Draco Malfoy unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. He grabbed his partner’s arm and pulled him towards the welcoming warmth that flooded out to greet them. “Come on, before I lose you in the snow.”
“Look at that. It’s beautiful.” Harry Potter had turned to stare back in the direction of the picture-book village. Nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, the village looked like something from a fairy story with its twinkling lights and little curls of smoke rising from the chimneys.
“I know, you told me that yesterday ... and the day before. Now it’s just bloody cold.” Draco brushed a gloved hand over Harry’s back, clearing off the snow before snaking an arm around his lover’s waist. “And I expect you’ll tell me the same thing tomorrow.”
“Of course, because it’s still all new to me. All the snow, skiing.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder, his grin hidden beneath his scarf. “Did I mention the snow?”
“Let’s discuss the inherent beauty of snow from inside over a glass of cognac.” He moved in front of Harry, pushing him gently backwards towards the open doorway. “Inside. Now!”
Stepping backwards over the threshold and into the wood panelled room, Harry stamped his feet on the doormat, knocking off an accumulation of snow onto the floor. “Hurry up and close the door. You’re letting all the heat out.”
Draco glared at the man for a moment before pushing him out of the way so he could get in. “I’ve been trying to get you inside for the last five minutes.” He swung the door closed, finally cutting off the flurry of snow that was already settling just inside the room. Once safely inside, he quickly magicked the snow from both his and Harry’s clothes. “You’re getting better ... you didn’t fall over as many times today.”
“No.” Harry tugged at one of his gloved hands with the other, trying to get the glove off. “Just about two hundred times instead of the three million yesterday.” He fisted at the scarf still covering the lower part of his face and tried to use his teeth to pull off the glove. It stayed firmly in place. “I think I’ve got bruises in places I didn’t even know it was possible to bruise.”
“Poor Harry. At least you managed to spend most of the day upright instead of on your arse in the snow.” Draco cocked his head to one side and gave a lascivious smirk. “Would you like me to rub something onto your bruises?”
“I’d like you to go run me a nice soothing bath and then scrub my back for me.”
The smirk remained as Draco crossed to the bedroom, stripping off his ski jacket as he walked. “Now that, Harry dear, will be more than a pleasure.” He bent to unlace his boots before removing them and then the rest of his clothes down to shorts and tee shirt. “What time are we supposed to be at Hermione’s?”
It was a good job Harry hadn’t followed him into the bedroom because he would have seen the smirk on Draco’s face be replaced by a scowl, showing exactly what he thought about seeing in the New Year with anyone but Harry. The fact was they had precious little time alone these days as it was. There always seemed to be someone at their home or in their offices, or else they were being asked out to lunch or dinner. Harry ... being Harry ... never liked refusing, so it would be dinner with the Longbottoms one day, then bloody football with Finnigan and Thomas on another day. Determined to get some quality time alone with Harry, he’d booked this trip, telling Harry that he wanted to teach him how to ski.
Harry had leapt at the chance ... and in his almost childlike excitement had immediately extended the invitation to just about everyone he knew, telling Draco he couldn’t think of anything better than spending Christmas and New Year with those he now thought of as ‘family’.
Of course, Draco hadn’t complained, but had insisted he and Harry stay in their own chalet. The rest had hired a huge place near the centre of the village. Over the years since school he’d come to an understanding with Harry’s Gryffindor friends ... even grown to like them, but the idea of spending two weeks with them still made him shudder. Hermione and her new husband (Draco was still in shock over that relationship) were the very last people he wanted to make small talk with. It was bad enough that she should marry someone old enough to be her father, but to see them making eyes at each other when they thought no one was looking was just ... well ... nauseating. Then there were the others -- Longbottom with Pansy, Thomas with Lavender, Ginny with her current flavour of the month, and Finnigan supposedly in love with his new wife, Susan, but making little sad cow eyes at Hermione.
“We’re not going,” Harry called from the lounge.
Draco’s eyes opened wide, and he padded to the doorway. “Since when?”
Harry looked across at him. “Since this morning. I told her this was the first time we’d had the chance to spend New Year together since,” he took a breath, “since that one back at school. Remember?”
Draco stepped into the lounge. How could he forget that day six years ago when he’d arrived at Hagrid’s cottage exhausted and hypothermic from getting lost in the snow? He’d spent the night there ... just him and Harry ... and it had changed his life. “Of course. You got drunk.”
“So did you.” Harry was smiling quietly. “It was a Wednesday. Like today.”
“Really?” Draco took a few steps, his bare feet silent on the warm wooden floor. Harry had stopped in front of the fire and was still dressed in his ski clothes; he hadn’t even removed his hat or scarf yet. “I didn’t realise. Is this the first time it’s been a Wednesday?”
“Yes ... first Wednesday.”
“And you’ve told Hermione you want to spend it with me?” He was close enough to see Harry’s eyes now, the green glinting in the firelight. It was a look he recognised and it sent a shock of heat flooding through his body to gather in his groin.
Harry looked down at his still gloved hands and held them out towards his lover. “Malfoy, I could use some help here.”
Draco felt his breath catch in his throat as an image from memory flickered through his mind. Of himself kneeling on the floor, clothes soaked with freezing snow ... shivering ... unable to get his gloves off. Of Harry looking at him as he’d said almost the same thing ... Potter, I could use some help here ... I can’t get these off.
He stepped in front of Harry and studied the dark-haired man for a moment.
There was no snow on the man’s clothes now because he’d magicked it all away earlier, but damp tendrils of hair spilled from under Harry’s hat. He still had a scarf wound round his neck, but it had been pulled down from his face, exposing that come-shag-me smile and cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room, but which could equally be flushed with passion. The green and white ski jacket was zipped up to Harry’s neck, and a green stripe tracked down the arms to the imprisoned hands, encased in the gloves.
Draco let his eyes continue downwards, following the green-clad legs, gaze pausing briefly at Harry’s crotch, to booted feet before returning to Harry’s face. He reached up a hand and pulled off the hat, freeing the hair trapped inside to tumble out. Harry shook his head briefly, letting the black silk settle around his face, but he made no move to push it from his eyes.
Instead he waited.
“So, we’re not expected?” Draco took hold of Harry’s glasses, folding them carefully before placing them on the table.
“No.” The green of Harry’s eyes seemed to intensify in the firelight.
“Did they mind?” The scarf was uncoiled, like a snake, from around Harry’s neck, and as it pulled free, the little tassels on one end flicked briefly at his cheek like the lick of a tongue. Draco looped the ends around his hands for a moment, studying Mrs Weasley’s tiny red and gold stitches thoughtfully before letting the scarf drop to the floor. He reached both his hands up to Harry’s face, pushing his fingers into the damp tendrils, and held Harry gently.
“Probably, but I don’t care.” The tip of Harry’s tongue played across his lower lip. “Do you mind?”
Draco realised his eyes had become fixated on the movement of that tongue and he leaned forward to close the distance between them, his own tongue flicking out to meet his lover’s. “Being stuck here with just you for the night?” His voice was husky and he was aware that the warmth in his groin was centring in his cock.
“Mmmm.” Harry didn’t resist as Draco finally pulled him closer, lips brushing lightly together. Apart from that small movement, Harry remained still, arms at his side as he responded to Draco’s kiss with a groan from deep inside that seemed to vibrate through to Draco’s heart. He opened his mouth under the pressure and allowed Draco’s seeking tongue to take him, his own twisting around the intruder.
Fingers fisting into the black hair, Draco tilted Harry’s head a little, the mouth beneath his own warm and welcoming, and when he finally pulled away, Harry had closed his eyes, dark lashes dusting against flushed cheeks. “Oh, I think we can find ways to pass the time. Don’t you?”
Heavy eyelids opened and Harry slowly smiled. “So....” A gloved hand reached up to rest on Draco’s chest, fingers twitching against the cotton shirt. “Are you going to help?”
Both hands reached for the glove, and Draco pulled it off, freeing the fingers from inside. The fingers were warm ... flexible ... as he massaged Harry’s palm, and he kept eye-to-eye contact as he lifted the hand to his mouth. Each finger was slowly sucked into his mouth, tongue searching out the shape of the nail and ridges of each fingerprint. He repeated the process with Harry’s other hand, aware of the breath hitching in his partner’s throat, the slightly open and panting mouth and the heightened colour on his cheeks.
Draco released Harry’s thumb with an audible ‘pop’ and pushed up the cuff of the ski jacket. Lowering his mouth, he sucked on the soft skin of Harry’s wrist, tonguing at the fast-beating pulse. The touch produced a very satisfying groan, just as Draco had expected ... Harry could be turned to liquid if Draco spent time on that place ... and he feasted for a moment on the pulse point. He could almost feel the heat rising from Harry and knew that his lover would be getting hard even though the bulge of Harry’s cock wasn’t visible through the thick padding of his ski clothes.
He stepped back and surveyed the man in front of him for a moment before reaching for the jacket’s zip, which opened with a satisfying sound that echoed the rumble from his own throat. Hands pushed inside running over the dark green shirt, pausing for a moment to tweak both of Harry’s nipples through the two layers of fabric separating his fingers from flesh. Then, flipping a shirt button from its loop, he pulled the gaping hole over a nipple and sucked at it through the silk undershirt, feeling it go satisfyingly hard beneath his tongue.
“Open your eyes for me, Harry.”
The other man obeyed, the eyes hazy and unfocused as he swallowed. “Draco....”
“Yes, Harry?” Draco ran his hands up to Harry’s shoulders and used them to push the jacket off. It slid down, catching on Harry’s wrists, and he pulled it free. “What was it like? Undressing me that night?”
“I...”
“Did you enjoy it?” Long fingers moved to Harry’s hips, running lightly down the outside of his legs as Draco dropped down to his knees to curl his fingers round Harry’s calf. “Lift your foot.” He looked up to see Harry staring down at him, and quickly slipped off both boots and socks. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Harry’s voice was gravelly. “Yes, I did.” His toes flexed. “I realised you have wonderful feet.”
“You did?” Draco brushed his fingers lightly over Harry’s bare feet.
“It pissed me off.” Fingers twisted into Draco’s hair. “That you, of all people, should have perfect feet.”
Draco ran his hands up the inside of Harry’ legs, which spread accommodatingly, and carefully placed them flat either side of his groin. Both thumbs began to gently circle against the hardening length. Harry’s erection was responding to the pressure Draco was putting on it, his hips jutting forward a little. “Really? I know you like to suck on my toes, but I hadn’t realised why.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the green ski pants and dragged them down, leaving them puddled around Harry’s ankles.
He rested his hands back on Harry’s bare thighs, the muscles trembling as he slid just the tips of his fingers under the cotton of Harry’s boxers. “Which toe do you prefer?
“Any of them ... all of them.” Harry’s words caught sharply as Draco mouthed the tip of his cock through the cotton of his boxers. His knees buckled slightly and he grabbed for the arm of the couch behind him. The mouth closed around him again, sucking at him through the fabric. “I love your big toes ... Oh god!” He fell back against the couch as Draco’s fingers pushed further up behind the cotton, tantalisingly playing with Harry’s balls as he continued to suck along the hard length of Harry’s erection for what seemed a glorious eternity.
Finally pulling away, Draco allowed one hand to keep running up and down his lover’s heated length, as he rose to his feet and smiled at the flushed face staring up at him. “Unbutton your shirt, Harry,” he cooed as he slipped his hand inside the boxers while the other toyed with a nipple.
“What?”
“I need you to unbutton your shirt.” Draco cupped Harry’s balls, squeezing them gently, and his own contracting in sympathy. “If you want me to carry on that is.”
“Oh yes,” Harry huffed as if trying to talk and breathe at the same time. Trembling fingers moved to the buttons, struggling for a moment to perform the simple task, but they were all eventually pushed through their buttonholes and the shirt hung open. He started to pull it off.
“No, leave it.” Draco pulled his hand from Harry’s underwear, the movement bringing a moan of annoyance. He pulled the shirt back tidily over the trembling shoulders, straightening the hem before pushing his hands up inside the undershirt. The muscles of Harry’s abdomen quivered as he ran over them to the puckered flesh of his nipples. Once again, Draco sucked at them through the silk, first one and then the other, feeling his own erection hardening as he felt each nipple become a hard, engorged nub under his mouth and fingertips.
“Did you want to make love to me that day?” Draco straightened, letting his hands mould to Harry’s sides for a moment, wanting to feel the way his lover’s ribs rose and fell as he sucked in each breath.
“No ... not that day.” Harry’s hands let go of the couch and he took Draco’s face between them. He pulled Draco towards him, his mouth making small kisses along his jaw ... his mouth. “Not until later.” His hips flexed forward, pressing briefly against the other man. “I need you, Draco.”
“I’m all yours, Beloved, all yours.”
With that, Draco curled his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s boxers and pulled them down to join the trousers still around his ankles. Then, sinking to his knees, Draco reached for Harry.
********************
To my Dear olivia_lupin. With thanks for all your help, not only with beta-ing this and other stories, but for everything else as well.
If it hadn’t been for the wonderful support of many people on LiveJournal, I’m not sure just how I would have coped. I wish I could thank you all personally, but I want everyone who posted wonderful supportive comments to my journal entries to know how much they helped and how much they mean to me. I am grateful to you all.
The only thing I could think of doing by way of a thank you was to write something.
So here, for your pleasure, is a little New Years Resolution Futurefic.
R/NC-17 rated for naughty boys *g*
Written: 31st December 2003
The following ficlet is based loosely on the story Resolution.
********************
Wednesday 31st December -- New Years Eve 2003
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go...
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
The snow had changed from a gentle flurry to a steady downfall in the fifteen minutes it took the two young men to walk from the village to their little wooden chalet nestled on the outskirts. Heads down against the storm, they held onto each other both for support and pleasure, snatches of conversation and occasional laughter making it through the wind as they leaned close.
By the time they reached the protection of the building, the daylight had completely faded and, sheltering under the wide, overhanging eaves, Draco Malfoy unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. He grabbed his partner’s arm and pulled him towards the welcoming warmth that flooded out to greet them. “Come on, before I lose you in the snow.”
“Look at that. It’s beautiful.” Harry Potter had turned to stare back in the direction of the picture-book village. Nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains, the village looked like something from a fairy story with its twinkling lights and little curls of smoke rising from the chimneys.
“I know, you told me that yesterday ... and the day before. Now it’s just bloody cold.” Draco brushed a gloved hand over Harry’s back, clearing off the snow before snaking an arm around his lover’s waist. “And I expect you’ll tell me the same thing tomorrow.”
“Of course, because it’s still all new to me. All the snow, skiing.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder, his grin hidden beneath his scarf. “Did I mention the snow?”
“Let’s discuss the inherent beauty of snow from inside over a glass of cognac.” He moved in front of Harry, pushing him gently backwards towards the open doorway. “Inside. Now!”
Stepping backwards over the threshold and into the wood panelled room, Harry stamped his feet on the doormat, knocking off an accumulation of snow onto the floor. “Hurry up and close the door. You’re letting all the heat out.”
Draco glared at the man for a moment before pushing him out of the way so he could get in. “I’ve been trying to get you inside for the last five minutes.” He swung the door closed, finally cutting off the flurry of snow that was already settling just inside the room. Once safely inside, he quickly magicked the snow from both his and Harry’s clothes. “You’re getting better ... you didn’t fall over as many times today.”
“No.” Harry tugged at one of his gloved hands with the other, trying to get the glove off. “Just about two hundred times instead of the three million yesterday.” He fisted at the scarf still covering the lower part of his face and tried to use his teeth to pull off the glove. It stayed firmly in place. “I think I’ve got bruises in places I didn’t even know it was possible to bruise.”
“Poor Harry. At least you managed to spend most of the day upright instead of on your arse in the snow.” Draco cocked his head to one side and gave a lascivious smirk. “Would you like me to rub something onto your bruises?”
“I’d like you to go run me a nice soothing bath and then scrub my back for me.”
The smirk remained as Draco crossed to the bedroom, stripping off his ski jacket as he walked. “Now that, Harry dear, will be more than a pleasure.” He bent to unlace his boots before removing them and then the rest of his clothes down to shorts and tee shirt. “What time are we supposed to be at Hermione’s?”
It was a good job Harry hadn’t followed him into the bedroom because he would have seen the smirk on Draco’s face be replaced by a scowl, showing exactly what he thought about seeing in the New Year with anyone but Harry. The fact was they had precious little time alone these days as it was. There always seemed to be someone at their home or in their offices, or else they were being asked out to lunch or dinner. Harry ... being Harry ... never liked refusing, so it would be dinner with the Longbottoms one day, then bloody football with Finnigan and Thomas on another day. Determined to get some quality time alone with Harry, he’d booked this trip, telling Harry that he wanted to teach him how to ski.
Harry had leapt at the chance ... and in his almost childlike excitement had immediately extended the invitation to just about everyone he knew, telling Draco he couldn’t think of anything better than spending Christmas and New Year with those he now thought of as ‘family’.
Of course, Draco hadn’t complained, but had insisted he and Harry stay in their own chalet. The rest had hired a huge place near the centre of the village. Over the years since school he’d come to an understanding with Harry’s Gryffindor friends ... even grown to like them, but the idea of spending two weeks with them still made him shudder. Hermione and her new husband (Draco was still in shock over that relationship) were the very last people he wanted to make small talk with. It was bad enough that she should marry someone old enough to be her father, but to see them making eyes at each other when they thought no one was looking was just ... well ... nauseating. Then there were the others -- Longbottom with Pansy, Thomas with Lavender, Ginny with her current flavour of the month, and Finnigan supposedly in love with his new wife, Susan, but making little sad cow eyes at Hermione.
“We’re not going,” Harry called from the lounge.
Draco’s eyes opened wide, and he padded to the doorway. “Since when?”
Harry looked across at him. “Since this morning. I told her this was the first time we’d had the chance to spend New Year together since,” he took a breath, “since that one back at school. Remember?”
Draco stepped into the lounge. How could he forget that day six years ago when he’d arrived at Hagrid’s cottage exhausted and hypothermic from getting lost in the snow? He’d spent the night there ... just him and Harry ... and it had changed his life. “Of course. You got drunk.”
“So did you.” Harry was smiling quietly. “It was a Wednesday. Like today.”
“Really?” Draco took a few steps, his bare feet silent on the warm wooden floor. Harry had stopped in front of the fire and was still dressed in his ski clothes; he hadn’t even removed his hat or scarf yet. “I didn’t realise. Is this the first time it’s been a Wednesday?”
“Yes ... first Wednesday.”
“And you’ve told Hermione you want to spend it with me?” He was close enough to see Harry’s eyes now, the green glinting in the firelight. It was a look he recognised and it sent a shock of heat flooding through his body to gather in his groin.
Harry looked down at his still gloved hands and held them out towards his lover. “Malfoy, I could use some help here.”
Draco felt his breath catch in his throat as an image from memory flickered through his mind. Of himself kneeling on the floor, clothes soaked with freezing snow ... shivering ... unable to get his gloves off. Of Harry looking at him as he’d said almost the same thing ... Potter, I could use some help here ... I can’t get these off.
He stepped in front of Harry and studied the dark-haired man for a moment.
There was no snow on the man’s clothes now because he’d magicked it all away earlier, but damp tendrils of hair spilled from under Harry’s hat. He still had a scarf wound round his neck, but it had been pulled down from his face, exposing that come-shag-me smile and cheeks flushed from the warmth of the room, but which could equally be flushed with passion. The green and white ski jacket was zipped up to Harry’s neck, and a green stripe tracked down the arms to the imprisoned hands, encased in the gloves.
Draco let his eyes continue downwards, following the green-clad legs, gaze pausing briefly at Harry’s crotch, to booted feet before returning to Harry’s face. He reached up a hand and pulled off the hat, freeing the hair trapped inside to tumble out. Harry shook his head briefly, letting the black silk settle around his face, but he made no move to push it from his eyes.
Instead he waited.
“So, we’re not expected?” Draco took hold of Harry’s glasses, folding them carefully before placing them on the table.
“No.” The green of Harry’s eyes seemed to intensify in the firelight.
“Did they mind?” The scarf was uncoiled, like a snake, from around Harry’s neck, and as it pulled free, the little tassels on one end flicked briefly at his cheek like the lick of a tongue. Draco looped the ends around his hands for a moment, studying Mrs Weasley’s tiny red and gold stitches thoughtfully before letting the scarf drop to the floor. He reached both his hands up to Harry’s face, pushing his fingers into the damp tendrils, and held Harry gently.
“Probably, but I don’t care.” The tip of Harry’s tongue played across his lower lip. “Do you mind?”
Draco realised his eyes had become fixated on the movement of that tongue and he leaned forward to close the distance between them, his own tongue flicking out to meet his lover’s. “Being stuck here with just you for the night?” His voice was husky and he was aware that the warmth in his groin was centring in his cock.
“Mmmm.” Harry didn’t resist as Draco finally pulled him closer, lips brushing lightly together. Apart from that small movement, Harry remained still, arms at his side as he responded to Draco’s kiss with a groan from deep inside that seemed to vibrate through to Draco’s heart. He opened his mouth under the pressure and allowed Draco’s seeking tongue to take him, his own twisting around the intruder.
Fingers fisting into the black hair, Draco tilted Harry’s head a little, the mouth beneath his own warm and welcoming, and when he finally pulled away, Harry had closed his eyes, dark lashes dusting against flushed cheeks. “Oh, I think we can find ways to pass the time. Don’t you?”
Heavy eyelids opened and Harry slowly smiled. “So....” A gloved hand reached up to rest on Draco’s chest, fingers twitching against the cotton shirt. “Are you going to help?”
Both hands reached for the glove, and Draco pulled it off, freeing the fingers from inside. The fingers were warm ... flexible ... as he massaged Harry’s palm, and he kept eye-to-eye contact as he lifted the hand to his mouth. Each finger was slowly sucked into his mouth, tongue searching out the shape of the nail and ridges of each fingerprint. He repeated the process with Harry’s other hand, aware of the breath hitching in his partner’s throat, the slightly open and panting mouth and the heightened colour on his cheeks.
Draco released Harry’s thumb with an audible ‘pop’ and pushed up the cuff of the ski jacket. Lowering his mouth, he sucked on the soft skin of Harry’s wrist, tonguing at the fast-beating pulse. The touch produced a very satisfying groan, just as Draco had expected ... Harry could be turned to liquid if Draco spent time on that place ... and he feasted for a moment on the pulse point. He could almost feel the heat rising from Harry and knew that his lover would be getting hard even though the bulge of Harry’s cock wasn’t visible through the thick padding of his ski clothes.
He stepped back and surveyed the man in front of him for a moment before reaching for the jacket’s zip, which opened with a satisfying sound that echoed the rumble from his own throat. Hands pushed inside running over the dark green shirt, pausing for a moment to tweak both of Harry’s nipples through the two layers of fabric separating his fingers from flesh. Then, flipping a shirt button from its loop, he pulled the gaping hole over a nipple and sucked at it through the silk undershirt, feeling it go satisfyingly hard beneath his tongue.
“Open your eyes for me, Harry.”
The other man obeyed, the eyes hazy and unfocused as he swallowed. “Draco....”
“Yes, Harry?” Draco ran his hands up to Harry’s shoulders and used them to push the jacket off. It slid down, catching on Harry’s wrists, and he pulled it free. “What was it like? Undressing me that night?”
“I...”
“Did you enjoy it?” Long fingers moved to Harry’s hips, running lightly down the outside of his legs as Draco dropped down to his knees to curl his fingers round Harry’s calf. “Lift your foot.” He looked up to see Harry staring down at him, and quickly slipped off both boots and socks. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Harry’s voice was gravelly. “Yes, I did.” His toes flexed. “I realised you have wonderful feet.”
“You did?” Draco brushed his fingers lightly over Harry’s bare feet.
“It pissed me off.” Fingers twisted into Draco’s hair. “That you, of all people, should have perfect feet.”
Draco ran his hands up the inside of Harry’ legs, which spread accommodatingly, and carefully placed them flat either side of his groin. Both thumbs began to gently circle against the hardening length. Harry’s erection was responding to the pressure Draco was putting on it, his hips jutting forward a little. “Really? I know you like to suck on my toes, but I hadn’t realised why.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the green ski pants and dragged them down, leaving them puddled around Harry’s ankles.
He rested his hands back on Harry’s bare thighs, the muscles trembling as he slid just the tips of his fingers under the cotton of Harry’s boxers. “Which toe do you prefer?
“Any of them ... all of them.” Harry’s words caught sharply as Draco mouthed the tip of his cock through the cotton of his boxers. His knees buckled slightly and he grabbed for the arm of the couch behind him. The mouth closed around him again, sucking at him through the fabric. “I love your big toes ... Oh god!” He fell back against the couch as Draco’s fingers pushed further up behind the cotton, tantalisingly playing with Harry’s balls as he continued to suck along the hard length of Harry’s erection for what seemed a glorious eternity.
Finally pulling away, Draco allowed one hand to keep running up and down his lover’s heated length, as he rose to his feet and smiled at the flushed face staring up at him. “Unbutton your shirt, Harry,” he cooed as he slipped his hand inside the boxers while the other toyed with a nipple.
“What?”
“I need you to unbutton your shirt.” Draco cupped Harry’s balls, squeezing them gently, and his own contracting in sympathy. “If you want me to carry on that is.”
“Oh yes,” Harry huffed as if trying to talk and breathe at the same time. Trembling fingers moved to the buttons, struggling for a moment to perform the simple task, but they were all eventually pushed through their buttonholes and the shirt hung open. He started to pull it off.
“No, leave it.” Draco pulled his hand from Harry’s underwear, the movement bringing a moan of annoyance. He pulled the shirt back tidily over the trembling shoulders, straightening the hem before pushing his hands up inside the undershirt. The muscles of Harry’s abdomen quivered as he ran over them to the puckered flesh of his nipples. Once again, Draco sucked at them through the silk, first one and then the other, feeling his own erection hardening as he felt each nipple become a hard, engorged nub under his mouth and fingertips.
“Did you want to make love to me that day?” Draco straightened, letting his hands mould to Harry’s sides for a moment, wanting to feel the way his lover’s ribs rose and fell as he sucked in each breath.
“No ... not that day.” Harry’s hands let go of the couch and he took Draco’s face between them. He pulled Draco towards him, his mouth making small kisses along his jaw ... his mouth. “Not until later.” His hips flexed forward, pressing briefly against the other man. “I need you, Draco.”
“I’m all yours, Beloved, all yours.”
With that, Draco curled his fingers into the waistband of Harry’s boxers and pulled them down to join the trousers still around his ankles. Then, sinking to his knees, Draco reached for Harry.
********************
To my Dear olivia_lupin. With thanks for all your help, not only with beta-ing this and other stories, but for everything else as well.