Distorted Exposure

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize. Everything belongs to the wonderful JKRowling and others. I am making no profit from this. To put it plainly: don't sue.

AN: DH was great wasn't it? Hopefully this will be just as good.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Draco, who had left a few seconds ahead of Harry, walked swiftly and with purpose it seemed, and in mere seconds he had walked far enough ahead to disappear from sight in the dimly lit hallway. Harry found that his own feet had far less purpose and were dragging sullenly across the carpet. Or perhaps he was sullen and his feet were merely dragging.

The inside of his head echoed with thoughts that were both traitorous and tempting at the same time and all the while Harry felt torn. He had the choice, that much he knew, of talking to Draco. To talk of what he had felt when confronted with the photos and perhaps engage the blond on something more than a physical level.

But that would mean breaching carefully constructed walls, both his own and Draco’s and he was more than a little wary of even admitting that Draco meant enough to him to try and talk with the blond. After all, hadn’t Draco made it clear that the sum of all they had was physical satisfaction and than anything they did was a matter of circumstance.

And yet there they were. Undeniable emotions that raged within him, pleading to be expressed, to be shouted to the heavens themselves. Denying their existence served only one purpose and the longer he thought about it the clearer things became. The only reason Harry could see for keeping his mouth shut was to avoid the otherwise inevitable mess that would arise the moment he mentioned word of his notions to Draco.

With that much admitted Harry had only one question that remained racing around his head. Was Draco Malfoy, his one time rival, worth the trouble he would have to go to? After all, despite anything he may have to say there was still no way to guarantee that Draco would respond in anything but absolute horror and disgust and a good deal of contempt. No, expecting Draco to respond in kind was foolish, but to let things lay, that was something that Harry wasn’t certain he could manage.

[~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~][~]

Draco flopped down on the bed with a huff and the instant he felt the mattress beneath him and the soft whisper of the covers as they shifted under his weight, Draco felt the urge to bolt from the bed. Even so much as lying on the bed brought back memories of being pushed against it, and the covers felt luxurious to his touch, a sensation that had been so very pronounced as he had clenched his hands in them on more than one occasion.

Turning on his side, Draco resisted the urge to curl in on himself. His stomach flitted between churning painfully to disappearing all together Draco tried to gain some rein over his thoughts and the freshly introduced emotions which crashed through him with the force of tidal waves.

Draco tried desperately to remain reasonable and clear headed but the harder he tried the more blatantly obvious it became that nothing about Harry Potter made him even the slightest bit reasonable or clear headed. In fact it seemed, with every passing moment that rationality slipped further and further from his grasp as Potter related thoughts chased themselves about his head.

The seemingly impossible task of focussing on forming a rational thought about the brunet was not aided by the fact that with every moment that he spent trying to sort out his thoughts the only progress that was being made was by the extremely hormonal and horny component of his mind which had settled itself in to remind Draco of his rather persistent erection.

Draco found that he couldn’t remember precisely when he had first become hard, whether it had been at his chaotic thoughts of Potter which swam persistently in his mind as he lay on the bed, or when he had sat looking upon picture after picture of himself and the brunet, or maybe he had sported an erection from the very moment Harry had pushed him up against the desk and begun to snog him senseless.

But that moment seemed so very long ago and thinking of the feelings and sensations that had invaded him as he had sat, hopefully nonchalantly in the chair of Ren’s office, glancing with what he assumed had seemed like a passing interest at the final product of the photo shoots, Draco found that he had grown only to miss Harry’s touch all the more. More than that, he missed the way Harry had looked at him and the passion that burned from his touch alone, and the sound of their mingled pants and the feel of his arm wrapped around him as he woke up in the morning...

All cohesive thought ended there. Beyond that final notion there was only instinctual panic. He could not possibly have even entertained the idea of enjoying waking up snuggled against Potter, nor feeling the security of his arms wrapped powerfully around his body. And yet he could not deny that he had enjoyed it, wanted it, even yearned for it. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t in his right mind. It was Potter. Potter did these things to him that chased any sanity from his mind and instead forced him to live merely on sensation and need.

The touch of his lips, the powerful strokes of his hand and the rhythm with which his lean and toned body rocked against his. Their sweat winding together, slick and hot between them, hardly distinguishable from the hot and wet feel of their tongues meshing together. The flare of sensation as teeth broke skin and the feeling of being breached and filled. To be taken. To be held in place as pleasure rose up in him, rippling through him in ways that were both familiar and at the same time much more intense.

Losing all sense of himself, and yet feeling so intensely.

It wasn’t the motion or the skill with which Harry moved within him, but rather the way his hands pressed desperately against his hips, the way Harry’s mouth seemed to seek out his own, and how one moan from that desperately sweet mouth could draw a scream from him.

Draco could feel the wetness of his precome soaking through the material of his underwear but he remained on his side, not letting his hands stray to the button of his pants to ease the pressure even just a little.

Lying spent on his stomach, aware only of the harsh rise and fall of Harry’s chest as he struggled to catch his breath. The swell of pride to think that it was him that put the brunet in such a state. The look of utter bliss as he felt Draco’s body sidle up against his. Thinking that he would give anything to be the only one to ever cause such an emotion to appear on Harry’s face.

Draco sat bolt up right in his bed, panting as though he had forgotten to breath for several long minutes. He shook his head and bit his lip hard, drawing blood. He was a fool to even allow himself to think the way he had. After all the man he was fooling around with, the man who had somehow managing to burrow so deeply into him without his notice was Harry. Harry who had carved into him and tangled himself painfully in Draco’s soul. Harry Potter whom he was supposed to hate without reservation. Potter whom he had let fuck him mercilessly, with no more pride than a muggle whore.

The instant he thought it though, Draco knew it wasn’t true. It wasn’t a matter of pride or reservation at all. It was with this admitance that the enormity of his situation hit him. It would have been so much easier if it had been a matter of primal urges, of submitting to lust and hormones and allowing Potter to fuck him and in the process abandoning any pride he had retained. But that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t about sex, as much as he told Harry that, and as much as he heard it echoed from the brunet. It was more. Potter had made it more in an instant, it seemed, when he had looked away, and he had allowed it, wanted it even.

The flaming anger and jealously which had flared to life within him earlier that day at the sight of Alex and Harry together, talking, had been proof enough of how far gone he was. And as painfully mortifying as it was to admit, Draco could not deny the fact that Harry made him feel things he hadn’t hoped to imagine and he didn’t doubt that what they had managed to have so far wasn’t half of what they could have.

Draco’s hands clenched in the sheets below him, the delicately woven gold on black patterns crumpling distortedly beneath his fingers. If it had been anyone but Harry Potter...

And yet somehow, no one but Harry Potter could affect him so completely. It was this that Draco found he couldn’t risk. He wasn’t about to be tamed and conquered by the golden boy, it simply wasn’t right, everything in his nature was adverse to it, or he convinced himself as much, ignoring his noncompliant erection which still tented his pants despite his best efforts at ignoring it. Harry Potter had managed to crawl into his depths and exposed him from the inside for brief flashes of moments as their combined passion crashed over them, but Draco knew he could allow it to go no further.

Sex had been the most he could ever ask of such a strained relationship, it was all he could trust himself to enjoy.

Harry’s expression as he stared at the countless photos swam to the forefront of his mind and Draco could feel his insides contract. He had known the look the instant he had caught it with the corner of his eye, it had been the very same one he had been masking himself. More than anything it had impressed upon him how precariously unstable their casual forefront of sex for the sake of lust had been. He couldn’t bear it. To hear the words that would surely spill from those lips which had provided him so many pleasures in such short-lived moments.

Draco steeled himself. He knew it had ended the moment he had walked from the room, the photograph’s swimming before his eyes, screaming the truth in all their scripted perfection and natural chemistry. The charade had been blown wide open and he had only one choice. Or rather no choice at all. It had all been very foolish of him to begin with.

Harry moving so surely and fluidly within him, filling him again and again, making him feel in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

In happening to accept an opportunity of business he has been thrown together with Potter. With no way to hold back he had allowed himself to be consumed by the heat of their arguments. With nothing better to do they had fucked. Unable to stop they had danced around what they knew to be the truth. But that would be as far as it would go. Everything, Draco decided, started and ended with the pictures, and that was the only way for things between him and Harry to be.

Draco’s chest felt painfully tight but he refused to wonder why. The door opened and Draco fell back against the pillows, staring resolutely at the black canopy above his head. From the corner of his eye he could see Harry walking towards the bed, or rather towards him. Harry stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at Draco, his green eyes searching out Draco’s silver. Draco turned on his side and folded one arm over the side of his head as he rested with the other beneath his head.

Draco felt the mattress dip as Harry sat down on it and for an instant Draco lay frozen, staring hard at the wall in his line of sight. Then the weight on the bed shifted and he felt Harry’s presence to his back, leaning over him, invading the very air he breathed. But steeling himself against the faint flutter of remembrance in his stomach Draco rolled off the bed and stood facing Potter for a split second, just long enough to shoot him an unmistakably cold look. Without a second glance and ignoring the pain that flashed across Harry’s face in the instant that Draco had faced him, he strode over to the couch and dumped himself unceremoniously on it, his head resting on his arms as he went back to staring directly above him, this time at the high, dark ceiling.

The air was thick with unanswered questions and Draco could feel Harry’s need to voice those questions. Somehow, despite his resolutions, having Harry in the room only made Draco’s erection throb harder. He ached to feel Harry’s hand wrap around the aching length, yearned to have Harry bring him to his climax. It would have been so easy, even then, even after he had walked away, to simply allow Harry to provide him with such sweet release and yet he refused to indulge himself.

But what he refused to let himself experience only made the torture of his need all the more prominent until it felt as though he couldn’t take it any longer. He needed some form of relief. Biting his lip and still staring quite hard at the ceiling Draco undid the top button of his pants, painfully aware of Harry’s presence in the room. Praying for silence Draco slid the zipper open, hearing his prayer go unanswered as the sound seemed to reverberate through the still air. Draco experienced the odd feeling of the room itself holding its breath along with him as he slipped his hand past the waistband of his boxers and to his aching shaft.

Wrapping his hand around the base Draco choked back the hiss of pleasure that rose to his lips. His vision blurred and the ceiling dropped from focus as Draco began to slide his hand along his own length, feeling his own eagerness as his hand spread precome down his entire length. His thumb danced over the head, pushing the foreskin back a bit as he played with the notion of Harry’s hand in place of his own. Recalling memories with open but sightless eyes Draco allowed his hand to speed up.

Without hesitation Draco bit back the sounds that tore at his throat, desperate to be voiced. Images of Harry swam against the backdrop of the ceiling. Draco remembered with momentary clarity, the feel of Harry’s mouth on his cock and the memory caused his shaft to twitch in his fist as he continued to pump it. Draco realised with surprising clarity that the entire time he has ignored his erection in favour of sorting out his sordid affair with Potter he had only grown closer to his own release.

Draco was panting from the effort of keeping silent and he could feel beads of sweat sliding down the side of his face to soak his blond locks so that they stuck to his face. Draco could feel his stomach tighten and he clenched his free hand into a fist, digging his nails into the soft skin of his palm as he tried to prolong the moment.

Draco allowed his eyes to flutter shut, trying to ride out the last moments of his heightened senses, stretching out the time he had before his impending orgasm crashed over him. Then with a vivid certainty he could feel Harry’s eyes on him, watching him, drinking him in. Draco came with a moan that seemed to echo off the walls and the ceilings for minutes after he had let it slip past his lips. Arching off the couch, Draco let his essence wash hard and hot over his hand, soaking into the material of his boxers and pants.

For long moments after Draco lay there, the ceiling fading in and out of focus as he drew deep breaths in an attempt to regulate his breathing. Finally, as his heart slowed from its thundering pace to a quick but solid beat Draco allowed his head to tilt to the side. His eyes caught emerald, and he saw Harry watching him with an indiscernible expression on his face.

With a hollow sigh Draco turned his head back to the ceiling and pulled his hand from his boxers, regarding it with a mixture of satisfaction and embarrassment. Potter did all this to him, even without touching him it seemed the brunet could make him moan, make him come so hard he couldn’t remember himself. Photographs he had seen for the first time earlier that day flashed before his eyes. Everything started and ended with the shoots. And the shoots were without a doubt coming to an end. Steeling himself, Draco clenched his fist, and resolved to start packing the very next morning.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

AN: uh did I say two weeks? I think I meant to say a month. Sorry for the long wait (yet again). I got caught up wating for the final book to come out. Deathly Hallows was great and somehow reading it seemed to inspire me but I won't say any more because if I start ranting I'll just spoil the book for those of you who haven't read it. As for being inspired by it I simply meant that reading new Harry potter material put me in the Harry Potter mindset and thus helped me focus on writing this chapter.

I still hope to finish this fic before the one year mark comes around and once I get the next chapter written I'm certain the last two chapters will come fairly easily, especially the epilogue which I've had planned forever.

And for those of you to whom the situation in the fic may seem hopeless I urge you to stick with me until the end because there are only three more chapters to go and I promise everything will work out as I had palnned in the end (whether or not that it to your liking will be up to you to decide when it is over).

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Oddly it was the last review which prompted me to write this chapter, not specifically because of what it said though I did feel quite flattered reading it but because people are still reviewing so long after I had last updated.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review on your way out.

- Incessant_Darkness

PS. Sorry for any small typoes/errors. I will fix it later when I get the chance and after I get some sleep.

Edit: fixing stupid mistakes.