Furry Magic

Title: Furry Magic, chapter 70

Disclaimer: I do not own Hp.

Draco woke cuddled between the two men he slept with every night since the day he'd been hurt by Andromeda's attack. Tonight, though, everything had changed, everything was different, he was more aware of everything about them. He had stopped taking them for granted. At last. He paid attention to the feeling he had when they surrounded him. He felt safe. He felt warm. He felt content.

He sat up between the large men. Mantheer, the darker of the two was stretched out on his back, the swell of his chest sweeping down to his well sculpted abdomen, and to his powerful jut of hip. His heavy genitals were soft, unaroused, yet still drawing the eye. How large would he be if he was aroused, Draco wondered? He shifted on the furs, closer to the bigger man. He thought about taking that bulky mass and weighing it in his hand. He had not ever done anything like that. The only time, that once with Amrys, had not involved his touching the other man much.

Moonlight frosted the angles and planes of the big form, gleaming sliver-pale, and black shadowed valleys. No one had ever called Mantheer classically beautiful, he was all masculine power, all strength and aggressive force. Primal man-beast as he lay sprawled in sleep. So big, overwhelming, taking up so much more space than Draco himself. Draco looked at him, breath caught in his throat, as his eyes traveled over the exquisite swell of full bicep and massive shoulder. He would never be so impressively huge, so daunting.

There was nothing subtle about the great body Draco watched in sleep. He extend his hand to touch it. His palm fitted over the pectoral muscle perfectly, the heat of Mantheer's skin rising to meet him before he made contact, he felt the small, hard bud of the man's dark nipple against the very center of his cupped hand. The light dusting of chest hair was silken, soft. And under his hand, beat the steady heart. He absorbed the beat into his own body. So aware of the life coursing through them both. He had to touch the peaked nipple, feeling the pebbly texture, the tip, his fingers rested, then gathering courage rolled the nub. It was mesmerizing, his mouth watered with the urge to taste it. What would it taste like on the tip of his tongue? Would he be permitted to suck it into his mouth, to make the big man want him to? How long before he might feel Mantheer's hand guiding him to that point, feel the arch of his body into his own?

Draco let his hand linger for a moment longer, then he began to explore a little more. His fingers, moving without thought, into the valley of the place between the two great muscles of the guardian's chest, tracing the corded junction upwards to the hollow at the base of the throat. Draco found his fingertips dipping into that space, stroking softly. Another point he wanted to run his moist tongue over. To place a full lipped kiss, just there in the center of it, nibble at the hollow with careful teeth, press his open mouth around the Adam's apple and lave it with a wet and eager tongue.

His eyes followed the smooth lines of colorless light up to the thick column of throat, saw the same pulse, the same rhythm there. He ran his touch up, over that second pulse. Up the jaw, and to Mantheer's face. The dark eyes were open, though Mantheer lay quiet under the scrutiny, allowing the young man's touch, welcoming it. Draco's fingers stroked, gentle, across the cheek, and almost shyly to the corner of Mantheer's lips.

Firm, stern mouth, hot, and unexpectedly soft, soft enough to startle a gasp from him, his eyes widening, flying up to meet the black ones, again. Color never survived the moonlight. Mantheer was still watching him, doing nothing to stop him, nothing to spook the hesitant young man. Draco could not look away, could not breathe. Mantheer waited for him to calm, then smiled. Draco's heart flipped.

Oh, ghod. This was it. All the times he had thought he was in love, he'd been wrong. All the times he'd had sex, been deep inside a slender, sweetly feminine body and believed he was in paradise, been sure he was in love. All those times he had been so wrong. This was it. No sweet, soft womanly form under him to fuel this revelation. Only the hard, uncompromising male who had loved him for as long as he could remember.

He was in love. Wonderfully, hopelessly, tenderly in love. And not with just this one man. It was both of them, Yaji and Mantheer. It went beyond passion, beyond sex. He had not had either with them, not yet. But, he had not loved anyone so intensely before. No one else had stolen his reason with a simple touch of his own hand on their body. No one else made him yearn for a touch in return.

"I don't know what I am doing," Draco whispered, the delicate flush spreading up his face, as their eyes stayed locked.

"Yet, you do it so perfectly." Mantheer whispered back, there was no mistaking the adoration in his voice, the welcome in his gaze. He lifted his big hand, brushed the fall of bright, moon-bleached hair back. Draco rolled his head into the caress. His lips pressed into the rough skin. He kissed the hand. Nuzzled it, his eyes drifting shut to savor the feel of the contact, the scent, musky spice, Mantheer's scent, one that he could recognize from childhood. And how easy it was to go from that to taste, his parted mouth coming to rest on the thinner skin of Mantheer's wrist, over the third pulse point he'd felt. He sucked, tasted, tongue slipping out to cautiously lap at the faintly salty skin.

Matheer's response was a quiet exhalation, and a shiver that Draco couldn't miss. Oh. Ghod. Impossible. He leaned forward and down, caught and held, with long, long seconds of anticipation before their lips met. A faint sweep of lips to lips, soft, as tiny wings. Profound touch. They came together again. Lips pressing this time. Innocent of lust, full of love. It rushed through Draco like sweet fire.

ne'ichan
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