Love Letters | By : JustAbi Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4798 -:- 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. |
All Love Letters are from Draco to Harry
Chapter Ten
oOo
Gods,
your mouth, your wonderful, wicked, horrible mouth. It isn’t beautiful or perfect and you ruin it
when you suck your lip, but even then, hidden talents lie within. There is nothing in this world that I desire so
much as to have your mouth on mine, or on my neck, my chest, my skin, my
cock. You hurt me with it, score my skin
with your teeth and I love it.
A purple bruise the size of a bludger
on my left thigh throbs every time I touch it, and I can’t stop myself. I sit in class and listen to the drone of
professors I cannot stand and finger it through my robes. There are angry red marks in the centre of it where your teeth sunk into my flesh and sucked
it while I whimpered, while I moaned, while I screamed and your fingers wrapped
round me and I died. Your kiss revived
me, and I have the memory of it written on my skin.
Last night I stared at myself in the mirror for an hour
after you left me, looking at the evidence that this is real, that you were
there, that you want me still. Every
place you touch leaves a mark on me, and only I can see it. The glamour hides it from prying eyes to keep
our secret, but I can see it still, feel every scratch and bruise and bite when
I move.
All I have to do is touch myself
where you touched me and I know that you want me, need me, crave me the way I
crave you. The pain reminds me.
oOo
I’m in love with
you. I’m in love with you and I haven’t
told a soul, not even you. But then, who
would I tell? Blaise is out of the question, obviously, and certainly not any
of the other Slytherins. They don’t even
know we’re together. No one does,
really. No one but Blaise, who watches
me like a hawk, sees the bruises on my body he knows he never left. Not even your friends know, so I can’t tell
them now, can I?
But I am, in love with you, I mean. I know I never say it, and neither do you,
but I feel it. I feel it burning through
my veins and skittering across my skin like a curse. I want you and I need you and I can’t quite breathe
when my eyes meet yours. It seems to me
that I am so obvious that the whole world must know the second they look at me,
but they don’t. No one knows but me.
I want to climb up onto the table in the middle of the Great
Hall and shout. I want to cover your
forehead with tattoos of my name for everyone to see. I want to make love to you in my bed, not rut
around in the grass or on some dusty floor.
I want you to be mine, as I am most embarrassingly yours.
But I can’t. I can’t
have any of that because of some unspoken rule between us, some pact of secrecy
to keep us safe enough to give the little of ourselves we do to a person we can
never trust. You don’t love me back, and
I don’t trust you not to break me the way I broke you. You don’t trust me because I didn’t first,
didn’t trust you enough to tell the truth, didn’t trust you enough to let you
know how I feel, didn’t trust you enough to let you touch me.
And so we are safe, we two who meet in the dead of night to
kiss and caress and suck and bite and grind and lick and touch and moan and die
in each others’ arms. So safe in the
dark we can even open our eyes while we grope and never see the fear reflected
in them. I am free to love you as long
as nobody ever knows but me, and you are free to take from me what you
want.
oOo
You are so
ravenous for affection that you are never full.
Nothing I could ever do could fill your need, the bottomless pit of your
desire to be loved not for part of yourself, but for all of you. My kisses rained on you like a typhoon would
never drown you; you would simply soak them up like land parched with
drought. That I love you is not enough,
never enough and I could flood the Earth with it and you would still want the
moon.
What is it that you want from me, need for me to give you to
know the truth of it, that I love you and I always
will? You say you like things the way they are, and in the same breath lament
that I leave you too soon, that I do not come to you enough, that the nights we
are together can never make up for the days we are apart. You do not say that you love me, but your
words are all designed to manipulate me into saying it to you.
I am a Slytherin, and
a Malfoy, and I have never had even a fraction of your arrogance nor your
insecurities. For that matter, I have
never had even a glimmer of the power you so blithely, casually display, and
your inability to even notice that you do infuriates me. Don’t you know that I am just like everyone
else? Don’t you know I have worshipped you from the day we met? Can’t you feel
it in my touch, see it in my eyes, hear it in my
moans, my pleas for more of you? Do you know me so little that you do not know
I love you?
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