On the Other Side

~IV~

 Moving very slowly, Harry shuffled to the place between the Dark Lord's thighs.

With a nervous smile on his lips he tentatively put his hands on the shins of the man in front of him, who shuddered at the touch, but made a visible effort to stay put, only gnawed lip demonstrating his displeasure.

Harry glided his hands along the legs of Voldemort, until he caught on the hem of half-raised robe and froze, not daring to lift it higher.

"That's okay," Harry muttered softly, when he felt a miniscule tremble shake Voldemort's body. His hands not moving an inch from their place at Voldemort's legs, Harry carefully lowered his upper body to come face to face with the Dark Lord. The man was grimacing slightly, chewing on his own lip in nervous gesture. "I will not do anything you do not want me to do," Harry promised almost into this twitching mouth, then suddenly turned, so their cheeks were touching slightly, and rubbed against the Dark Lord's face, sensing, that Voldemort's cheek heated under his own. "You've said no kissing, or – ?" he clarified.

Instead of verbal answer Voldemort sighed quietly and crashed his lips with Harry's in a rough kiss. Harry felt the man's tongue, violently roaming in his mouth, exploring it, trying to conquer Harry's own. He shuddered uncontrollably, before collecting himself and remembering, that he should be doing something, too.

While they were kissing Harry glided his hands higher, under the Dark Lord's robe, unnoticed to them both. Now he was feeling the hot skin of Voldemort's upper thighs with ghost hints of touches, dragging loud sighs and more shudders from the man, who was continuing to ravish his mouth between low sobs.

Several minutes passed with them kissing, Harry's hands lying flat on Voldemort's hips after the first few tentative touches.

'Children are not made with kissing,' Voldemort whispered in Harry's mind with a hint of mirth to his mental tone.

'No laughing, remember,' Harry reminded him. Then removed his hands from under Voldemort's robe and got to unbuttoning his own clothes, locking his intense gaze with the Dark Lord's glassy one.

Voldemort brought his hands up and softly took Harry's palms in his big hands, stopping him in his actions.

"Allow me," he hissed in snake-language, smirking suavely, when seeing Harry shudder at the sounds, the boy's gaze becoming clouded with dawning desire. Working very slowly, the Dark Lord undid all the small buttons at the upper part of Harry's robe, stopping at his waist, Voldemort's eyes never releasing Harry's.

Harry brought his hands to Voldemort's collar and froze, uncertain, without touching the man's clothes, with a question in his eyes.

"Yess," Voldemort let out sibilantly, "You may undress me, Harry."

Harry startled at hearing his name in Parseltongue, the snake-language somehow making it sound both sexual and eerie at the same time. He put his hands down on Voldemort's chest with a sense of finality and started to undress the man, at the same time, as he was undressed by him, both of their actions reflected as if in a mirror: Harry working on one button of the Dark Lord's robe, and Voldemort doing the clasp on his, then their hands simultaneously drawing the edges of clothes to the sides, unveiling the naked skin underneath, and going down to the next button.

When at last both of their robes were undone, their bare chests and abdomens almost touching, but not quite, Harry took the initiative back to himself and pinned the Dark Lord to the ground, kissing him hard, hands roaming his chest in gliding motions, touching lightly, slightly scraping with his nails across cool skin, feeling the muscles of Voldemort's chest and abdomen twitching and tightening under his careful touch. Harry shuddered, when felt Voldmeort's hands go up his back to his shoulders and clutching them, bringing Harry closer.