Dreaming Reality
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,554
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,554
Reviews:
9
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.
Dreaming Reality
Dreaming Reality
Harry feels Draco sliding slowly inside of him, filling him up, making him whole and tries to burry the emotions that stir inside his chest. He can’t let his feelings ruin everything. What he has isn’t about emotions; it’s about carnal desires. That’s the way Draco thinks of it, so Harry forces himself to hide his yearning for more.
Draco’s never late when Harry owls. He comes into Harry’s flat and with clinical movements starts to remove his cloths. They never talk much; it’s not about talking. It’s always up against the wall, the way Draco likes, less personal.
“Harder,” Harry says breathily, moaning, wanting to feel more. Draco grabs his hips and increases the pace, slamming in but still hitting that spot inside that always brings Harry to the most amazing heights of pleasure. Sometimes he’ll go for hours, hitting that sweet bundle of nerves that make’s Harry’s body burn in pleasure with the stamina of a god.
Harry dreams of receiving letters. He waits as long as he can, until the ach for Draco becomes too much to handle, until the pulling on his heart becomes too great, but always ends up sending out a note. Draco never owls because it doesn’t mean as much to him, he doesn’t need this like Harry does. He’s never said they were exclusive, and when Harry thinks that he might not be the only one an icy hand grips his heart.
Whimpering, Harry’s body thrums as he feels spike after spike of arousal flooding down his spine and into his groan. It’s always so perfect with Draco, so wonderful. He bucks back wantonly, crying out, “Ohgodyes.” Draco’s arms move around to his chest, pulling him closer and Harry’s heart starts to swell with emotions. It’s rare that Draco will do anything this intimate, and Harry savors this moment, starving for more.
Harry dreams of Draco every night. He dreams of smiles and laughs. He dreams of loving touches and sweet embraces. He dreams that Draco looks at him, and only him. His dreams are both brilliant and awful, everything he wants, and nothing he can have.
The building inside his body grows with every delicious push of Draco inside of him, causing his body to arch more and more. He knew the moment Draco wrapped his arms around him he wasn’t going to last long, it feels too good, too perfect. When a warm, slick hand grips around his weeping cock, pulling him hard and fast he cries out. His head drops onto the sculpted shoulder behind him, eyes rolling back. Inside his mind is a haze of pleasure, making it much too hard to think now, be he knows this will be a moment he’ll remember. When it’s forgivable to act like Draco’s lover rather than his occasional fuck.
Harry’s dreams have become better than his reality. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. He finds himself going to bed early at night, sleeping later each day. These meetings with Draco become so much more in his dreams, less sexual, more intimate. They don’t fuck against a wall; they make love in his bed. There are sweet touches to his check, passionate kisses on his lips. He’s able to explore Draco’s beautiful body, run his fingers and lips over every curve of moon kissed skin.
The pleasure burning in his abdomen is expanding at the same time his muscles start to tighten. Draco’s movements become frantic with fevered thrusts and a hot breath on the back of his neck. If he arched his back just a little more he might be able to steal a kiss against his shoulder. Those lips start speaking in a deep husky tone.
“Tu es la personne la plus importante dans ma vie. Je t'aime Je t'aime Je t'aime. ”
Harry doesn’t understand, but the words sound so desperate, so full of emotion. He wants so badly for them to be something meaningful, anything. He’s starving for Draco to give him more. His body goes tense. He’s so close now, even though he wants it to last. But with Draco thrusting into his body, stroking his erection, being there with him it’s too much and he comes, his body shooting out his pleasure.
Harry’s lost in a fog of bliss. It’s just like his dreams, and now Draco will cradle him in his arms, kissing his neck. This is the part where Harry will mumble that he loves him, and Draco will say it back. This is the part where Harry is happiest.
It isn’t real.
When his breathe starts to even out he sinks back down to reality. He’s angry with himself, burning fury fill his veins. He keeps putting himself through this jarring up and down of emotions. He pushes off of the wall, away from the slumped body behind him and goes straight for his boxers on the floor.
“Were you speaking French?” Harry asks, trying to keep himself together. He’ll wait to have the breakdowns until after Draco leaves. He’ll wait to curl up into himself, laying under the covers of his bed and squeeze his eyes shut until he dreams. “What did you say?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Draco says from somewhere behind him. “Some rubbish about how hot you looked pressed against the wall being fucked by me.”
Harry’s lungs turn into steal, painfully constricting his breath. He turns away, careful to hide his face until he can compose himself once more as they dress in silence.
He shouldn’t have wanted it to mean more. He was setting himself up for disappointment. He was the one that did this to himself, put himself through this horrible agony. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore. An invisible fist squeezed his heart as he spoke.
“This is the last time, Malfoy. No more.”
Draco’s quite for a while, probably upset that the brunette is taking away his easy fuck. Harry can’t bear to turn around. He can’t handle seeing the blond angry. Worse, he can’t handle seeing him not care.
“Why?” Draco says, in a voice that sounds pained and Harry glances over to him. “Grown sick of me already?”
Unable to tell the truth, he can’t stand Draco mocking him for his feelings, he closes his eyes, closing out the world. He feels the icy fist on his heart squeeze as he drags a hand through his black hair and lets out a harsh sigh. “This is too hard on me.”
“But I thought you liked that,” Draco says. “I can be more gentle. And you never let me heal you afterwards, but I know spells. Do you not trust me to cast them?”
“No. It’s nothing like that, you are gentle, but...” but it hurts inside.
“But?”
“Please just leave.” Harry says, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s falling apart and he needs Draco to leave now, or he risks showing the blond just how devastated he truly is. As he looks up, ready to repeat his request he’s suddenly met with the image of Draco striding towards him. He’s frozen as pale hands reach out, grabbing his shoulders in a painful grip. Frozen because Draco’s soft, pink lips are coming closer, pressing against his own in a searing kiss.
It’s a dream, Harry knows. How could such a passionate kiss from Draco be anything else? Draco isn’t passionate about him. It’s just a dream, so Harry kisses back, matching the intensity, gripping Draco’s shirt and pulling that deliciously warm body against his own. Their lips slid together wetly, tongues push out to taste. It’s perfect, wonderful, right.
It can’t be real.
Harry pushes him away, not willing to set himself up for disappointment again. He turns his head when Draco lips try to recapture his and mumbles, “What was that for?”
Despite his efforts to pull away, Harry’s drawn closer.
“What do you want from me?” Draco says quietly, something coloring the words but Harry can’t quite figure out what.
What does he want from Draco? The question would take hours to answer. He wants tenderness. He wants affection. He wants soft embraces and sweet words. He wants Draco in his arms every morning. Harry wants to mean something to him. He wants his dreams to be real.
“More,” he whispers.
A soft, chase kiss brushed his lips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Harry asks, and the room starts spinning.
“Yes. Je t'aime.” Draco said, and this time Harry could hear it clearly, the heavy emotions dancing around the words.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he says, tugging Harry with him towards the bed. Harry falls on top of him, smiling hesitantly.
“Okay,” he says, feeling the icy fist on his heart melt away.
That night, Harry dreams with Draco’s arms around him.
A/N:
Translation: Tu es la personne la plus importante dans ma vie. Je t'aime Je t'aime Je t'aime. :
You are the most important person in my life. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Thanks to Anon for informing me about my French. I hope I have it right now. ^^ and I may have to take you up on that offer for future French help.
Thanks everyone who’s been reviewing my stuff, I always make sure to spend some time writing something new when I get a comment. I’ll be posting a chaptered fic in the near future. ^_^
Sorry, this might have been a bit confusing for some. I’ve been getting requests for sequels to my works, but I have doubts about my ability to write them well. I tried this companion piece as a sort of halfway point.
I apologize for this being such a long author’s note!
Harry feels Draco sliding slowly inside of him, filling him up, making him whole and tries to burry the emotions that stir inside his chest. He can’t let his feelings ruin everything. What he has isn’t about emotions; it’s about carnal desires. That’s the way Draco thinks of it, so Harry forces himself to hide his yearning for more.
Draco’s never late when Harry owls. He comes into Harry’s flat and with clinical movements starts to remove his cloths. They never talk much; it’s not about talking. It’s always up against the wall, the way Draco likes, less personal.
“Harder,” Harry says breathily, moaning, wanting to feel more. Draco grabs his hips and increases the pace, slamming in but still hitting that spot inside that always brings Harry to the most amazing heights of pleasure. Sometimes he’ll go for hours, hitting that sweet bundle of nerves that make’s Harry’s body burn in pleasure with the stamina of a god.
Harry dreams of receiving letters. He waits as long as he can, until the ach for Draco becomes too much to handle, until the pulling on his heart becomes too great, but always ends up sending out a note. Draco never owls because it doesn’t mean as much to him, he doesn’t need this like Harry does. He’s never said they were exclusive, and when Harry thinks that he might not be the only one an icy hand grips his heart.
Whimpering, Harry’s body thrums as he feels spike after spike of arousal flooding down his spine and into his groan. It’s always so perfect with Draco, so wonderful. He bucks back wantonly, crying out, “Ohgodyes.” Draco’s arms move around to his chest, pulling him closer and Harry’s heart starts to swell with emotions. It’s rare that Draco will do anything this intimate, and Harry savors this moment, starving for more.
Harry dreams of Draco every night. He dreams of smiles and laughs. He dreams of loving touches and sweet embraces. He dreams that Draco looks at him, and only him. His dreams are both brilliant and awful, everything he wants, and nothing he can have.
The building inside his body grows with every delicious push of Draco inside of him, causing his body to arch more and more. He knew the moment Draco wrapped his arms around him he wasn’t going to last long, it feels too good, too perfect. When a warm, slick hand grips around his weeping cock, pulling him hard and fast he cries out. His head drops onto the sculpted shoulder behind him, eyes rolling back. Inside his mind is a haze of pleasure, making it much too hard to think now, be he knows this will be a moment he’ll remember. When it’s forgivable to act like Draco’s lover rather than his occasional fuck.
Harry’s dreams have become better than his reality. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is. He finds himself going to bed early at night, sleeping later each day. These meetings with Draco become so much more in his dreams, less sexual, more intimate. They don’t fuck against a wall; they make love in his bed. There are sweet touches to his check, passionate kisses on his lips. He’s able to explore Draco’s beautiful body, run his fingers and lips over every curve of moon kissed skin.
The pleasure burning in his abdomen is expanding at the same time his muscles start to tighten. Draco’s movements become frantic with fevered thrusts and a hot breath on the back of his neck. If he arched his back just a little more he might be able to steal a kiss against his shoulder. Those lips start speaking in a deep husky tone.
“Tu es la personne la plus importante dans ma vie. Je t'aime Je t'aime Je t'aime. ”
Harry doesn’t understand, but the words sound so desperate, so full of emotion. He wants so badly for them to be something meaningful, anything. He’s starving for Draco to give him more. His body goes tense. He’s so close now, even though he wants it to last. But with Draco thrusting into his body, stroking his erection, being there with him it’s too much and he comes, his body shooting out his pleasure.
Harry’s lost in a fog of bliss. It’s just like his dreams, and now Draco will cradle him in his arms, kissing his neck. This is the part where Harry will mumble that he loves him, and Draco will say it back. This is the part where Harry is happiest.
It isn’t real.
When his breathe starts to even out he sinks back down to reality. He’s angry with himself, burning fury fill his veins. He keeps putting himself through this jarring up and down of emotions. He pushes off of the wall, away from the slumped body behind him and goes straight for his boxers on the floor.
“Were you speaking French?” Harry asks, trying to keep himself together. He’ll wait to have the breakdowns until after Draco leaves. He’ll wait to curl up into himself, laying under the covers of his bed and squeeze his eyes shut until he dreams. “What did you say?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Draco says from somewhere behind him. “Some rubbish about how hot you looked pressed against the wall being fucked by me.”
Harry’s lungs turn into steal, painfully constricting his breath. He turns away, careful to hide his face until he can compose himself once more as they dress in silence.
He shouldn’t have wanted it to mean more. He was setting himself up for disappointment. He was the one that did this to himself, put himself through this horrible agony. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore. An invisible fist squeezed his heart as he spoke.
“This is the last time, Malfoy. No more.”
Draco’s quite for a while, probably upset that the brunette is taking away his easy fuck. Harry can’t bear to turn around. He can’t handle seeing the blond angry. Worse, he can’t handle seeing him not care.
“Why?” Draco says, in a voice that sounds pained and Harry glances over to him. “Grown sick of me already?”
Unable to tell the truth, he can’t stand Draco mocking him for his feelings, he closes his eyes, closing out the world. He feels the icy fist on his heart squeeze as he drags a hand through his black hair and lets out a harsh sigh. “This is too hard on me.”
“But I thought you liked that,” Draco says. “I can be more gentle. And you never let me heal you afterwards, but I know spells. Do you not trust me to cast them?”
“No. It’s nothing like that, you are gentle, but...” but it hurts inside.
“But?”
“Please just leave.” Harry says, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s falling apart and he needs Draco to leave now, or he risks showing the blond just how devastated he truly is. As he looks up, ready to repeat his request he’s suddenly met with the image of Draco striding towards him. He’s frozen as pale hands reach out, grabbing his shoulders in a painful grip. Frozen because Draco’s soft, pink lips are coming closer, pressing against his own in a searing kiss.
It’s a dream, Harry knows. How could such a passionate kiss from Draco be anything else? Draco isn’t passionate about him. It’s just a dream, so Harry kisses back, matching the intensity, gripping Draco’s shirt and pulling that deliciously warm body against his own. Their lips slid together wetly, tongues push out to taste. It’s perfect, wonderful, right.
It can’t be real.
Harry pushes him away, not willing to set himself up for disappointment again. He turns his head when Draco lips try to recapture his and mumbles, “What was that for?”
Despite his efforts to pull away, Harry’s drawn closer.
“What do you want from me?” Draco says quietly, something coloring the words but Harry can’t quite figure out what.
What does he want from Draco? The question would take hours to answer. He wants tenderness. He wants affection. He wants soft embraces and sweet words. He wants Draco in his arms every morning. Harry wants to mean something to him. He wants his dreams to be real.
“More,” he whispers.
A soft, chase kiss brushed his lips. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Harry asks, and the room starts spinning.
“Yes. Je t'aime.” Draco said, and this time Harry could hear it clearly, the heavy emotions dancing around the words.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” he says, tugging Harry with him towards the bed. Harry falls on top of him, smiling hesitantly.
“Okay,” he says, feeling the icy fist on his heart melt away.
That night, Harry dreams with Draco’s arms around him.
A/N:
Translation: Tu es la personne la plus importante dans ma vie. Je t'aime Je t'aime Je t'aime. :
You are the most important person in my life. I love you, I love you, I love you.
Thanks to Anon for informing me about my French. I hope I have it right now. ^^ and I may have to take you up on that offer for future French help.
Thanks everyone who’s been reviewing my stuff, I always make sure to spend some time writing something new when I get a comment. I’ll be posting a chaptered fic in the near future. ^_^
Sorry, this might have been a bit confusing for some. I’ve been getting requests for sequels to my works, but I have doubts about my ability to write them well. I tried this companion piece as a sort of halfway point.
I apologize for this being such a long author’s note!