Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Forever	By : Ashley41430 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Forever
- 1
Forever by Ashley W., fairylightsslash@yahoo.com

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from Harry Potter or have any rights to
them. Also, this is slash and graphic sex.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: A PWP from Harry's point of view. Lots of emotions.

Category: PWP, Angst

It's strange how it happens. One minute we're lying here, happy, heavy with flesh and blood and all things human and the next we're gone even though we're still here. We're lying together, breathing, hearts heavy but bodies oh-so-light and it's as if the wind could pick us up and carry us away with one little wisp.

Sometimes in moments like these I just stare at you, and you smirk at me in that way that infuriates me to the point of giddy laughter. Your lip turns up on the side just so and your eyes crinkle at the sides and you are beautiful, and there is nothing I want more. You always give me that look when this happens, when my eyes are caught unmoving unblinking in your beauty, and you twist your lip at the sentimental mess that I tend to become.

You're not so innocent of sentimentality yourself, though, because right after the smirk fades from your lips your eyes are searching mine like they would water in the middle of a heated desert, and I know that you don't mean that smirk. I know that you are, in a way, jealous because I get so caught up in my feelings and you just can't.

But it's times like these when we're both finally human, and it's perfect. You're no longer that Slytherin prat; I'm no longer the clumsy Gryffindor. I'm no longer the premiere fighter for the light, and you are no longer a recluse, hidden away from the two hungry sides of war. We're something else, projections of ourselves, reaching out to twine into the other until we create something whole and substantial. Together, we're more than we ever would be apart.

"How long can you stay?" you ask, your voice soft and husky from where it lingers just inches above my lips. You're laying on top of me, pressing into me, and I can only wrap my fingers around the downy hairs at the nape of your neck and tell you "the night." I want to tell you that I'll stay forever, that I'll never leave, but I know how you get unnerved when I talk about commitment even though we both know that there will never be anyone else.

You're watching me now, watching my closed eyes and little, tiny smile, and I can tell you are thinking about how much I am risking by seeing you, and how you are doing the same to see me. We are at war, but that's okay because right now we're locked away inside your flat with unplottable charms floating in the air around us to keep us safe.

I open my eyes now, having felt just a little bit too much of your heavy gaze on my closed eyes, and you smile. "Daydreaming?" you ask, and I just shake my head; I would never, ever have to daydream with you around. You are my daydream.

You smile at me and your eyes flick down to my lips, then back up to my eyes, and as you allow your eyelids to droop I watch your long, dark lashes meet each other and lay dormant against your skin, contrasting like fire and ice, like snake and lion, like good and evil, like us. You've got a stray over by the corner of your eye, and I want to brush it away but I am too caught up in the sudden feel of your velvet lips against mine.

I let out a little gasp as your tongue pushes its way into my mouth, and of course I respond because there is never any doubt of that. We're melting into each other now, blending and molding, and I know there is no turning back.

I realize I'm arching up underneath you, eager to move past this and into something more even though it's so beautiful and gorgeous and perfect but I need more. I need you need you need you. You're moving on top of me, languid with your assured love, but I can't take it anymore and I carefully bring one of my hands to the hem of your shirt and tug, just enough to take your mind off of my mouth and onto more important things.
I c I can that same full mouth turn into a rare smile against mine and then you pull your lips away after pressing a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth, and then you're dragging them across my jawbone, leaving a slippery wet trail on my skin that tingles when the cool air hits it. I tug again on the hem of your shirt and arch my hips towards yours and then you chuckle into my ear and it is the sexiest thing I've ever heard, that low, raspy chuckle floating into my ear and tickling against my skin. "Eager?" you tease, then nip at my earlobe.

"Missed you," I mumble by way of explanation, unable to think of anything better with your breath ghosting all over my face and your fingers drifting low and deftly attacking the bottom button of my shirt. "Please," I add, tugging again on your shirt.

You let go of my button for a moment and hold yourself up with your arms, and I understand that you are giving me access to pull up your shirt. You free your arms and then we manage to get them through the sleeves without too much trouble, although you fall against me once or twice and we giggle into each other's hot skin when your face gets half-caught in your shirt and your arm won't go through the sleeve. Finally it's off, though, and your smooth, bare back feels like heaven underneath my probing fingers. You work on my buttons faster after this, and I drag my finger up and down your spine near the top of your back, eliciting a few shivers and pleased sighs as you finally finish the buttons and spread the two sides of my shirt apart. You've reached my bare chest now and I open my eyes against the pleasure you're giving me just long enough to see you look at me with your gray eyes glinting in hunger and desire and I arch towards you again, telling you to move on.

You push my shirt off of me and as you throw it away from the bed, eager for it to be gone, you lean down against me and kiss me again, your tongue finding its way into my mouth immediately. The feel of your hot skin against mine is indescribable and addictive and beautiful, and I pull at your back to get you closer. I want you so close that your skin is mine and there is no way to tell where you end and I begin and I need you right now and you are all over me, skin and sweat and friction and I need you.

I reach down and unbutton your jeans clumsily and I am the only other person who does this and I love that. I pull the zipper down and push them down over your hips. You are breathing heavier now and you've broken our kiss to lift up your hips and help me along, and then you kick off your jeans until they're nothing but a rumpled heap on the floor. You're not wearing anything underneath and I feel another surge to my groin as I am faced with you, your cock hard and straining for release, and then your hands are fire against my waist and you tug off my own jeans and laugh because I bothered to wear boxers. You pull them off, too, and then we're naked, pressed against each other in your bed. Your cock is pressed against mine and it is heaven. We are in heaven. We are immortal. We are forever.

You're kissing me again, and then you bring your fingers up to my mouth. I understand and suck on them greedily, watching with pleasure as your eyes flutter closed and your breath hitches and then releases. You always have me do this to prepare your fingers for entering me. You say that it's cleaner than using lube, but I know that you just love it when I suck on your fingers, especially since you always use lube when it's time for your cock to replace your hand.

You're preparing me, putting in one finger, then another and I grunt as you enter. "More, please Draco, more," I plead, pushing against your hand in hopes of it turning into your cock.

"I have to get you ready," you say, your voice choked with pleasure. You suck on my neck as you prepare me, and I pant and turn my head to allow you all the access you need.

"I'm not...not a virgin, Draco, please, you won't hurt me," I manage to grunt as you pull out your fingers. You reach across me and grab the lubricant from your bedside table and then you put it all over your cock, knowing that I am in too much of a frenzied state of need to do it myself.

And in this moment, this beautiful, loaded, perfect, expectant moment while your cock is poking at my entrance and my legs are wrapped over your shoulders and our eyes lock, green to gray, we are forever and I've needed this moment for so long and it is perfect, and as you enter me I don't need you to go fast and hard because I know that we have all the time in the world to do that. You take your time now and go slow, and I grit my teeth against the discomfort even though it is minimal against the pleasure, and the tear that you brush away from my eye is not from pain.

You're kissing me again, slow and hard, our lips gliding against each other, wet and slippery and full and warm. You brush your teeth against my lower lip playfully, and I smile against your mouth, and then you are fully inside me and my smile widens as you pant above me and then push my sweaty hair away from me forehead. "Alright?" you ask in a strangled voice, and I know that you're under so much self-control right now that I don't know how you're managing to speak at all without breaking your will power. I know you want to just move and move and move but you aren't because you care.

I don't bother answering with words, I just thrust my hips upward and moan when you shift inside me and bury yourself deeper, and then you are moving, in and out. "Mmm, tight," you mumble, your thoughts barely articulating themselves as you push yourself in and pull yourself out, your hard cock slippery against my tight, wet, insides, pulling you in. We fit together perfectly and it is so wonderful that I have allowed my head to fall back against the pillows, my neck exposed. You're sucking on it again, close to my collarbone, and I know I'll have more hickeys that I can count tomorrow but I don't care. I can't close my mouth at this angle and I am panting beneath you. You are going slow, painfully, excruciatingly slow, but it is the most pleasurable torture you've ever put me in.

My lips are growing dry from being open and panted against and you reach up and tilt my head with a sweaty hand and then your tongue darts out and licks my lips, and I pull your head down with my own sweaty palm and capture your mouth in a kiss. This excites you; your rhythm breaks for just a moment and then picks up again, faster. The first time we did this we couldn't even find a rhythm, so caught up in our fumbling and quick orgasms that it would've been too much, but now we are a perfect blend of rhythm and harmony and beauty and I pull you closer.

You're buried deep inside of me but I want more and I tug at your back, and I don't care that I'm leaving marks because I want more. You start moving faster now, understanding my need, and now you're fucking me, but in a way that has so much love that calling it fucking does not do it justice. Every hard, fast thrust is another reminder of love and need and protection and we are safe. We are finally safe from the world and it is perfect.

"Fuck, Draco," I pant, close to the ed I t I tug you closer and you are kissing everywhere you can reach, lips moving frantically against my heated skin. I feel the heat rising in your cheeks as they brush against me, your eyelashes doing the same every so often. I feel moisture on them, but ignore it because my own are in the same state.

And then I feel it, the tension in my stomach rising and rising and clenching and tugging, and you feel it too and your thrusts are faster, harder, deeper, and we are moaning and murmuring our love and our names and nonsense words that somehow make so much sense and then we are coming, fast and hard, gasping, panting, mouths wide open, and you are making your last desperate thrusts and I am weak beneath you, spent, trembling, and you finally collapse on top of me, still inside, our connection lasting even though we're both empty but somehow full and every sense is heightened and you are everywhere all over me burning me up.

I still feel you inside of me when you collapse on top of me after pulling out, even though we'll be glued together by morning. It doesn't matter. I would rather be glued to you than far away.

"I love you," I say desperately, and you smile above me and carefully kiss the wet trails around my eyes of tears that I wasn't even aware of shedding.

"Merlin, Harry, I love you too," you say softly, your words hot against my skin. You're saying these words as you kiss all over my face, and it is beautiful, just like you. I tell you this, that you're so beautiful, and you smile at me once more, in that familiar way that means you think I'm being ridiculously sentimental, and maybe I am, but I don't care.

"Don't leave me," I murmur, and your smirk falters slightly and then you're kissing me desperately. "Please don't leave me," I repeat as you come up for air. "Please."

My voice is as desperate as your kisses and you can tell that I am serious, that I am on the verge of sobbing, that I am exhausted from fighting and keeping you a secret and leaving you and trying to succeed in murder. You know this. And I know you are exhausted as well, from beiorceorced to hide from both sides of the war, and worrying about me as I fight, and being so alone when I am not here.

"I won't," you say, and your voice breaks. "I won't," you repeat, and this time, your voice is just ispeisper.

"I love you," I say, and it comes out as a plea. I know this is silly, me begging you not to leave me since I am the one who always has to leave. But you understand that I don't care, and that I just need assurance of our relationship. You always understand.

This time, though, you bury your face in my neck and I can feel your tears, hot and wet against my skin. It tears me apart. I can't handle this, feeling you cry against me. You auppoupposed to be strong, and my silly pleading has pushed you over the edge and now you're shaking, trying not to sob, and I am sobbingllinlling you closer, trying to gather you in my arms, and we must look pathetic, sobbing and shaking and crying, stuck together by my cum, weeping and declaring our love over and over.

I feel like we are in a trashy novel or a pathetic movie but this is our life. It has come to this now, to crying against each other after lasting moments of bliss and love in hopes that it will bring just a moment more of that same blissful peace and love and togetherness. It doesn't, though, and as your tears subside, and you rub at your eyes furiously and try to make it look like you didn't have that breakdown in the first place, I pull your hands away from your eyes and tug you close. Your face is buried in my neck again, but it is okay, and we are laying here together in peace.

As I begin to drift off to sleep, I hear your voice, whispering against my neck, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't," I murmur, kissing the top of your hair as sleep pulls me under. And even if it's selfish, I mean it. You are more important than this silly war and this crazy murderer, and it doesn't matter if the world needs me, or Ron and Hermione won't understand, and I know that I am being honest because I need you more than anything. I won't ever leave you.

We are forever.

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Forever