Fic: White Houses
another fic from the closet completed!
Title: White Houses
Author: Witblogi
Pairing: h/d mentions of h/g
Rating: ....uh... 14A?
Words: 1539
Warnings: AU, sexual situations...post...sex?
Summary: a weird fic i wrote while listening to 'white houses' by vanessa carlton. Harry is stuck in routine after an incident that caused him to lose his girlfriend.
White Houses
The room was bright when he woke up. Disentangling from the twisted and mismatched sheets on his bed, he got up. Half past noon and already the day felt slow to his stretching limbs. Outside proved it to be over cast and muted, the colours of the world seemed to have been sapped away.
Inhaling the tangy scent of unwashed clothes and summer sweat, he moved through his room, picking through the piles of clothing on every surface. Eventually some crumpled jeans were pulled on over his blue and white boxers and a green plaid shirt was cast about his shoulders.
He gingerly began to button the shirt over his lanky abdomen, not even bothering to look in the mirror. Yanking open his door, the soft ticking of the kitchen clock welcomed him into the home.
His bare feet made sticky padding noises on the out-of-date-patterned linoleum, as he crossed the room. Finding a mug in the cupboards, he poured some luke-warm coffee for himself. Pausing as he replaced the now empty pot, he thought about her again.
The pain had receded now, but every so often he was struck with an old pang of longing and regret. Months ago she’d left, another man, and she’d left him. He blinked and raised the mug to his lips, downing the liquid without tasting it.
He could still remember the way she smelled, the way she laughed. He gripped the counter and forced his mind onto something else. He sniffed picking up the paper from the table and pushed into the living room.
He took up his seat by the window. He’d sat there every morning, since she’d gone. He felt safe in the routine. Nothing was changing, and he could take his time with things. Opening the paper he glanced across the room. There, working on the sofa, was his roommate.
At first, they hadn’t gotten along. He smiled ruefully to himself, turning to the latest words of damage and destruction in the world. They fought more than anything in the first few months, but when she left, his roommate was all he had.
He never realized how much this one person lived in a world so similar to his. They adopted the routine together. And he began again.
Halfway through the paper the sounds of computer keys being compressed stopped. He looked up. His roommate wasn’t typing on his laptop any longer. They locked eyes. This was not a part of the routine. He blinked ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the intensity of the gaze directed at him. He stared hard at an advertisement using a piglet.
“ Harry,” he breathes steadily, the use of his name will not change anything. The routine must not fail. He ignores his roommate, standing up and crossing the room, “ You can’t live like this forever,” His roommate whispered crouching by his armrest.
He closes his eyes and puts down the paper. Standing up he moved to go back to his room, back to sleep to wait for the next day, where the routine would reset and he’d be okay.
“ Harry!” he’s stopped, his arm pulled so he had to turn around and face those gray eyes. He’s not used to this kind of emotion, and he pulled on his arm. “ You have to move on,”
“ I have moved on!” his voice sounded foreign, he hasn’t used it in days…maybe weeks, he didn’t remember.
“ Well you can’t stay mad at me forever!” the words are said with passion. And he forced himself not to look into his eyes again. It was so long ago, a mistake he was convinced. The hand on his wrist slid to into his palm and fingers twined through his. He took a gasping breath and felt the heat of their connection racing through him.
“ Do you remember?” he barely heard the words. His memory was whirling too fast, back to that overcast day so much like this. They had been joking around, just the two of them. Somehow a kick, a hit, a touch, turned into something more. He took a shuttered breath as the memory rolled over him the taste of the clean white skin and the sounds they’d made.
Tangled limbs and cast off clothing was all anyone would have seen, was all she saw. Another man, he’d been with another man and she left him. Now when he looked in the burning grey eyes before him he remembered. Squeezing the fingers between his, he reached out with his other hand to cast aside the fallen flaxen fringe across this forehead.
“ I remember,” he whispered touching the soft skin so unlike his own. He remembered everything, the months of wondering before that glorious over cast day, the months of growing distant from her. The regret that she had to find out, that they both had to find out in such a blunt way.
The pain of hurting another, was still fresh in his mind, how could something so sweet cause so much destruction? He wondered over and over through his routine. The steely gaze on him softened when he squeezed their hands again.
“ I remember,” he whispered softly again, leaning forward to meet with the other set of lips. The tender re-acquaintance was soon mutated into a familiar ravaging of each other’s mouths. The taste of coffee was on both their lips and they kissed it away.
With hands gliding over coveted and longed for planes of clothed skin, they stumbled to the wall. He leaned back and let their combined weight be supported under his shoulders. All he cared about for the moment was that he hadn’t felt like this in weeks. He was drowning in his feelings and didn’t particularly want to resurface.
Every touch was sending off tingling sparks all over his body. The feeling of white cashmere beneath his fingers was something he wanted not of, only one thing was softer, and it was under the sweater. He sighed in pleasure, as his lips were released to the still afternoon air. His neck felt aflame, every open-mouthed kiss and suck was singing up and down his spine and chest.
The buttons of his shirt were being slowly un-tucked and opened revealing more and more for the taking. The first love bite made him hiss in an emotion he couldn’t describe and pull their hips together in carnal need. A slow grind ensued of their pelvises, which had him keening and bucking for more.
Hands slipped to his back, a caress of the smooth skin and taut muscle that had him crying out. “ Draco,” he slid his hands under the expensive sweater to feel the heat that awaited him. He could just imagine the peaches and cream flush he’d find where his fingers were tracing nonsensical patterns.
This is what he cannot grasp, as they mouthed each other’s bodies moaning, groaning and crying out. Every touch set off a fire within them, every sound a deeper desire for the other. He never felt this way about her, sure she was pretty, but he was beauty personified. He got under his skin and into his soul.
Everything was more than just an action, more than the desire for pleasure. It was a thirst for each other, the need to be together in a way no one else would understand. Skin on skin felt like his brain may never work properly again. A sensory overload was bound to happen, he’d felt this way last time too.
They paused for a moment, his head dropping to one pale shoulder. He felt winded, too many things were going on at one time and he couldn’t keep up. The strong screen of his routine fell and his emotions finally rained down.
§§§
Love was a funny concept, he decided while they lay together on the soft rug. Something that was supposed to be so normal was instead an alien concept he could barely grasp. Resting his closed eyes against the bicep that had been cushioning his head he gave a low sigh.
How come something that felt so good, was so wrong? It was wrong wasn’t it? It hurt her, it destroyed what was once a good friendship. Him and Draco could never go back to how it was, now there was just too much between them, now they had…this.
This being what ever it was that cause them to lie curled together naked for hours in the middle of the living room. That wasn’t even the worst of it, the worst of it was he’d never felt more content, he’d never wanted anything more than just to lie there for the rest of his life.
He pulled his knee up to rest on Draco’s thigh, and a hand threaded through his hair making him break out in lethargic shivers. Turning and opening his eyes, he sighed.
“ So, what do we do now?” he watched the lips as they formed the words in his head. Honestly, he had no idea what came next. Never had he felt so lost, never had he felt so happy either.
The unhappy routine was gone.
“ We live,”
Title: White Houses
Author: Witblogi
Pairing: h/d mentions of h/g
Rating: ....uh... 14A?
Words: 1539
Warnings: AU, sexual situations...post...sex?
Summary: a weird fic i wrote while listening to 'white houses' by vanessa carlton. Harry is stuck in routine after an incident that caused him to lose his girlfriend.
White Houses
The room was bright when he woke up. Disentangling from the twisted and mismatched sheets on his bed, he got up. Half past noon and already the day felt slow to his stretching limbs. Outside proved it to be over cast and muted, the colours of the world seemed to have been sapped away.
Inhaling the tangy scent of unwashed clothes and summer sweat, he moved through his room, picking through the piles of clothing on every surface. Eventually some crumpled jeans were pulled on over his blue and white boxers and a green plaid shirt was cast about his shoulders.
He gingerly began to button the shirt over his lanky abdomen, not even bothering to look in the mirror. Yanking open his door, the soft ticking of the kitchen clock welcomed him into the home.
His bare feet made sticky padding noises on the out-of-date-patterned linoleum, as he crossed the room. Finding a mug in the cupboards, he poured some luke-warm coffee for himself. Pausing as he replaced the now empty pot, he thought about her again.
The pain had receded now, but every so often he was struck with an old pang of longing and regret. Months ago she’d left, another man, and she’d left him. He blinked and raised the mug to his lips, downing the liquid without tasting it.
He could still remember the way she smelled, the way she laughed. He gripped the counter and forced his mind onto something else. He sniffed picking up the paper from the table and pushed into the living room.
He took up his seat by the window. He’d sat there every morning, since she’d gone. He felt safe in the routine. Nothing was changing, and he could take his time with things. Opening the paper he glanced across the room. There, working on the sofa, was his roommate.
At first, they hadn’t gotten along. He smiled ruefully to himself, turning to the latest words of damage and destruction in the world. They fought more than anything in the first few months, but when she left, his roommate was all he had.
He never realized how much this one person lived in a world so similar to his. They adopted the routine together. And he began again.
Halfway through the paper the sounds of computer keys being compressed stopped. He looked up. His roommate wasn’t typing on his laptop any longer. They locked eyes. This was not a part of the routine. He blinked ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the intensity of the gaze directed at him. He stared hard at an advertisement using a piglet.
“ Harry,” he breathes steadily, the use of his name will not change anything. The routine must not fail. He ignores his roommate, standing up and crossing the room, “ You can’t live like this forever,” His roommate whispered crouching by his armrest.
He closes his eyes and puts down the paper. Standing up he moved to go back to his room, back to sleep to wait for the next day, where the routine would reset and he’d be okay.
“ Harry!” he’s stopped, his arm pulled so he had to turn around and face those gray eyes. He’s not used to this kind of emotion, and he pulled on his arm. “ You have to move on,”
“ I have moved on!” his voice sounded foreign, he hasn’t used it in days…maybe weeks, he didn’t remember.
“ Well you can’t stay mad at me forever!” the words are said with passion. And he forced himself not to look into his eyes again. It was so long ago, a mistake he was convinced. The hand on his wrist slid to into his palm and fingers twined through his. He took a gasping breath and felt the heat of their connection racing through him.
“ Do you remember?” he barely heard the words. His memory was whirling too fast, back to that overcast day so much like this. They had been joking around, just the two of them. Somehow a kick, a hit, a touch, turned into something more. He took a shuttered breath as the memory rolled over him the taste of the clean white skin and the sounds they’d made.
Tangled limbs and cast off clothing was all anyone would have seen, was all she saw. Another man, he’d been with another man and she left him. Now when he looked in the burning grey eyes before him he remembered. Squeezing the fingers between his, he reached out with his other hand to cast aside the fallen flaxen fringe across this forehead.
“ I remember,” he whispered touching the soft skin so unlike his own. He remembered everything, the months of wondering before that glorious over cast day, the months of growing distant from her. The regret that she had to find out, that they both had to find out in such a blunt way.
The pain of hurting another, was still fresh in his mind, how could something so sweet cause so much destruction? He wondered over and over through his routine. The steely gaze on him softened when he squeezed their hands again.
“ I remember,” he whispered softly again, leaning forward to meet with the other set of lips. The tender re-acquaintance was soon mutated into a familiar ravaging of each other’s mouths. The taste of coffee was on both their lips and they kissed it away.
With hands gliding over coveted and longed for planes of clothed skin, they stumbled to the wall. He leaned back and let their combined weight be supported under his shoulders. All he cared about for the moment was that he hadn’t felt like this in weeks. He was drowning in his feelings and didn’t particularly want to resurface.
Every touch was sending off tingling sparks all over his body. The feeling of white cashmere beneath his fingers was something he wanted not of, only one thing was softer, and it was under the sweater. He sighed in pleasure, as his lips were released to the still afternoon air. His neck felt aflame, every open-mouthed kiss and suck was singing up and down his spine and chest.
The buttons of his shirt were being slowly un-tucked and opened revealing more and more for the taking. The first love bite made him hiss in an emotion he couldn’t describe and pull their hips together in carnal need. A slow grind ensued of their pelvises, which had him keening and bucking for more.
Hands slipped to his back, a caress of the smooth skin and taut muscle that had him crying out. “ Draco,” he slid his hands under the expensive sweater to feel the heat that awaited him. He could just imagine the peaches and cream flush he’d find where his fingers were tracing nonsensical patterns.
This is what he cannot grasp, as they mouthed each other’s bodies moaning, groaning and crying out. Every touch set off a fire within them, every sound a deeper desire for the other. He never felt this way about her, sure she was pretty, but he was beauty personified. He got under his skin and into his soul.
Everything was more than just an action, more than the desire for pleasure. It was a thirst for each other, the need to be together in a way no one else would understand. Skin on skin felt like his brain may never work properly again. A sensory overload was bound to happen, he’d felt this way last time too.
They paused for a moment, his head dropping to one pale shoulder. He felt winded, too many things were going on at one time and he couldn’t keep up. The strong screen of his routine fell and his emotions finally rained down.
§§§
Love was a funny concept, he decided while they lay together on the soft rug. Something that was supposed to be so normal was instead an alien concept he could barely grasp. Resting his closed eyes against the bicep that had been cushioning his head he gave a low sigh.
How come something that felt so good, was so wrong? It was wrong wasn’t it? It hurt her, it destroyed what was once a good friendship. Him and Draco could never go back to how it was, now there was just too much between them, now they had…this.
This being what ever it was that cause them to lie curled together naked for hours in the middle of the living room. That wasn’t even the worst of it, the worst of it was he’d never felt more content, he’d never wanted anything more than just to lie there for the rest of his life.
He pulled his knee up to rest on Draco’s thigh, and a hand threaded through his hair making him break out in lethargic shivers. Turning and opening his eyes, he sighed.
“ So, what do we do now?” he watched the lips as they formed the words in his head. Honestly, he had no idea what came next. Never had he felt so lost, never had he felt so happy either.
The unhappy routine was gone.
“ We live,”