Beautiful Mess
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Bill/Charlie
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
7,787
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Bill/Charlie
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
7,787
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
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.
Beautiful Mess
Fingers slid up a long, pale throat, thumb pressing hard just under his chin, forcing his head back.
And oh, how he loved it like this. It was so, so wrong, but only one could do this to him, just like this, just the way he wanted it.
He writhed, lips parted and slick as that mouth wreaked havoc on his throat, nipping lightly in all the right places, and how did those lips know exactly what to do?
Charlie plunged his hands into a brilliant spill of orange hair.
So, so wrong, but this was war, and he should take his pleasures where he could, and that thought made it easier to ignore the throbbing pulse that told him he had dreamed about this for years.
Slick fingers parted him, slipped inside, and it wasn't a new sensation, but it somehow seemed so much more than with anyone else; his eyes fluttered a moment and slid shut even as legs slid open.
Lips descended, swallowed his soft cries and left them feeling thick and heady in the back of his throat.
When their mouths parted, he rolled over, planted his hands in rumpled sheets, and he gasped as hot and thick and hard slid steadily into his slickened, grasping channel. One wiry arm wrapped around him, squeezing at his arousal, and the other hand pressed down on one of his own, tangled their fingers together.
Then they rocked together in the dark, soft gasps and the quiet squelch of sweaty skin sliding and pushing and making contact, and Charlie's mouth opened in a perfect, silent "o" as he came.
Afterward, when they were both sated and sweat-sticky and sore, he clutched Bill to him, one leg slung over his brother's hip. His mouth pressed to the narrow bridge of a freckled nose, and he smiled lazily, fingers curling and uncurling in tangled red hair.
This was so, so wrong, but when everything boiled down to good versus evil, little sins like this might be overlooked. Tomorrow they would fight, and tomorrow they might die, but tonight... tonight they would cling to each other, keep one another safe and warm and complete.
They would revel in the beautiful mess they were making out of what was left of their short lives.
And oh, how he loved it like this. It was so, so wrong, but only one could do this to him, just like this, just the way he wanted it.
He writhed, lips parted and slick as that mouth wreaked havoc on his throat, nipping lightly in all the right places, and how did those lips know exactly what to do?
Charlie plunged his hands into a brilliant spill of orange hair.
So, so wrong, but this was war, and he should take his pleasures where he could, and that thought made it easier to ignore the throbbing pulse that told him he had dreamed about this for years.
Slick fingers parted him, slipped inside, and it wasn't a new sensation, but it somehow seemed so much more than with anyone else; his eyes fluttered a moment and slid shut even as legs slid open.
Lips descended, swallowed his soft cries and left them feeling thick and heady in the back of his throat.
When their mouths parted, he rolled over, planted his hands in rumpled sheets, and he gasped as hot and thick and hard slid steadily into his slickened, grasping channel. One wiry arm wrapped around him, squeezing at his arousal, and the other hand pressed down on one of his own, tangled their fingers together.
Then they rocked together in the dark, soft gasps and the quiet squelch of sweaty skin sliding and pushing and making contact, and Charlie's mouth opened in a perfect, silent "o" as he came.
Afterward, when they were both sated and sweat-sticky and sore, he clutched Bill to him, one leg slung over his brother's hip. His mouth pressed to the narrow bridge of a freckled nose, and he smiled lazily, fingers curling and uncurling in tangled red hair.
This was so, so wrong, but when everything boiled down to good versus evil, little sins like this might be overlooked. Tomorrow they would fight, and tomorrow they might die, but tonight... tonight they would cling to each other, keep one another safe and warm and complete.
They would revel in the beautiful mess they were making out of what was left of their short lives.