Between Eros and Sin

Author\'s Note --

I\'m dabbling to a high degree herein. The Harry Potter fandom is quite far out of my realm of expertise; however, the Harry/Draco dynamic was just too good an opportunity to pass by. Please excuse any major character inconsistencies and/or egregious grammatical errors. Many thanks!

*I do not own Harry Potter nor am I making any profit from what is posted below.

It was just a heartbeat. Trapped beneath all that skin and all that bone, pounding strong and fast like it wanted to get out. It beat in time with his breathing, with those little hitching moans that skittered from his mouth almost against his will.

\"Don\'t stop touching... if you stop... if you stop...\"

The words trailed off uselessly, his brain going sticky-soft and muddled. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice was muttering something about beds and enemies, but there were fingertips now, moving inexorably downwards, pausing to press here and there with a promise of friction, but never quite delivering. This prompted a strange mewling sound from him. It lingered in the back of his throat, and tumbled restlessly out of him.

There was a full hand now, pressed against his abdomen with careless ease. He wanted to curl around that hand or to push it down to where he knew it would do the most good, but a casual arm flung across his hips kept the rest of his body insistantly stilled.

It was something else now. The hand held ever-so-lightly against his stomach pulled away and rummaged; the sound seeming out of place in the now broken quiet. But the tip of something slender and hard spinning little circles around the hollow of his throat brought everything back to where it should be. It tickled as it dragged down his chest, drawing addagio lines across his ribcage and dipping gingerly into his exposed belly button.

If something didn\'t happen soon...

There was a murmur next to his ear. Even as that gentle pressure moved from his navel to his thigh and a wisp of blonde hair fell across his lips.

\"Wingardium Leviosa.\"

The words were a tease; utterly meaningless, as there was really nothing left to rise. But that husky whisper against the hinge of his jaw was enough to force a jerky shudder through his wiry frame, starting with his hips and eventually curling down to his toes.

He wanted more, but didn\'t know how to ask for it. Desire was slip-sliding over his skin and, distantly, Draco Malfoy was laughing.

It was a surpise when Draco kissed him. The pressure was odd at first, almost a caress, but possessive to the last. There was nibbling involved, and a firm tongue lapped lightly at his lips. Harry thought that perhaps he should open his mouth, but even before the idea had fully taken shape, Draco was pulling away again, trailing kisses across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abdomen. Harry didn\'t realize that he had fisted the sheets between his fingers, until a steady ache had built up in his hands. He released them reluctantly, marvelling slightly at the steady, throbbing pain, warring with the rather desperate pleasure skimming the surface of his body.

\"Tell me what you want.\" A demand.

\"I... Please.\" this was barely more than a pant.

\"Please?\" The word fell off of Draco\'s lips with amused disdain. \"Please what?\"

Harry was gasping now, unable to draw enough oxygen. It felt like drowning, like all of that pleasure was water being sucked down his lungs. But even as he pleaded for more, for something, those fluttering hands just lay against his body like a heartbeat. They carressed quick and strange; Draco\'s fingers raking against his skin with a new kind of thoroughness, invading his intimate details, possessing his synapes, and clinging like smooth syrup to all of his tiny crevices. Harry\'s breaths were short rasps now, little more than moans as Draco began to sit up, drawing his hands away, and taking all of that watery pleasure with him.

The sound that Harry produced at the loss was incoherent.

\"I still hate you, you know. Just because you\'re beautiful, doesn\'t mean I like you.\" Draco leaned down again, the rest of his whispered words a sibilant hiss. \"I\'m using you.\"

Draco\'s mouth moved from Harry\'s ear, to his neck, coming to rest over his pulse, and finally laying like dead petals. Harry knew he should protest, but with Draco\'s lips pressed so gently against his body, even the threats seemed like endearments now.

\"I hate you too...\" It was all Harry could manage before Draco\'s hands began searching again, seizing, taking; dissolving his thoughts like slowly heated butter.

\"Go faster. Please.\"

Another laugh. But Draco\'s movements stayed languourous; he was only content to touch Harry everywhere.

\"Don\'t stop. Not yet. It\'s not enough.\"