On The Skin Of A Soulmate | Drarry

{05} - Draco Malfoy has a Plan™

Draco hasn't heard from his soulmate in close to 4 months and, at this point, he's getting desperate. Luna says he should try to reach out first, but Draco can't help but think that she's completely batty. Even more so than he thought, he means. Reaching out first would put him in a position of vulnerability and just the thought of the possible rejection is enough to keep Draco's thoughts of picking up a quill to himself.

Though, that doesn't stop him from his art. Luna's helped him find a Mind Healer the last few weeks, and the weekly appointments have come to be a staple in his life - as well as his renewed love for his painting. Acrylics, watercolours, oils - Draco isn't picky. He needs to paint to function and has no idea how he's managed up to a few weeks ago to not even touch a paintbrush.

Now, Draco strokes acrylics paint across the pale canvas of his legs, intertwining colours together into a beautiful mix. Outside, it's dark, what it being 3 am and Draco still being awake, but he doesn't mind. He only hopes his soulmate is awake now, too, because Draco has to get up in a few hours to get ready for his appointment with Healer Sinéad at 9.

He's naked, and the soft light of the candle he lit flickers across his flesh. He breathes in deeply - Amortentia Aromas has always been his favourite brand - and mixes more paint into his brush with his left hand with his right slowly creeps up to where his prick lies, thick and heavy and throbbing against his thighs. Fuck, this shouldn't be so erotic - he's almost painted his balls pink, for Merlin's sake.

It takes Draco a while to see it, but when he lifts his hand up to push his long hair out of his eyes, the chicken-scratch writing catches his gaze.

You're left-handed?

Draco's heart palpitates dangerously, and he sucks in a breath. All of a sudden, his modest bedroom feels far too warm, and he shudders at the bead of sweat that rolls down between the blades of his shoulders. Fuck - Fuck, this is it! He didn't have to write first, after all - fuck you, Luna. Draco bites his lip and scrabbles for a quill, scathing remark quick on his fingertips.

But instead of insulting his soulmate's intelligence, Draco just writes;

Ambidextrous, actually.

He sets his paintbrush down and stares at the masterpiece he's done on his legs. Fields and fields of lavenders decorate his skin, start purple bringing out the bony veins in his bare ankles and feet.

That's beautiful. The painting, I mean.

I bet you're beautiful.

If the guy keeps going like this, Draco's not sure he'll last. Already his balls feel tight, and his cock looks flushed and the slight shade of lavender he's got all over him.

Are you naked? Draco asks - because surely his soulmate must be - if they can see Draco's body art.

It takes a while for them to respond. I am, now. Fuck, what I wouldn't give to see you, all spread out, paint coating your skin.

Draco blinks. What? His prick bobs to attention, now throbbing so hard it's almost painful. Precome drips from the tip, onto the field of lavenders, and Draco grips his shaft with too-hot, shaking fingers. His whole body trembles and Draco closes his eyes but snaps them open again to check his hand. The handwriting there is worse than normal - which Draco hadn't thought possible - as though his soulmate was rushing through something.

I bet you're touching yourself right now. Merlin, I don't even know what you look like but I can imagine your fist around your prick, hard and leaking onto your fingers.

Draco doesn't know what's gotten into his soulmate but whatever it is, it's excruciatingly beautiful. His wrist stutters in its rhythm, and he jerks his hips upwards in time with the rising wave of pleasure building in his chest. His mouth falls open, breath hot and loud in the silence of his room as he closes his eyes. A tight whine emits from his lips as the wave builds and builds until it crashes and Draco cries out, loudly.

Fuck, he thinks, because he's fucked. Well and truly in trouble - he's gone ahead and become fascinated with his soulmate.

He brings his left hand to wipe the sweat dripping from his fringe and the dim light catches faded words on his palm. He reaches for his wand and casts a charm that will restore the words to full quality. Draco bites his lip to stop himself from screaming in excitement.

Because there, on the sweaty skin of his palm, his soulmate's Mind Healer's appointment time and the place are written clearly - the same Mind Healer Draco himself frequents. His limbs are heavy and his mind sated from the force of his orgasm, and he's covered in white ropes of his own cum...

But, Draco has a plan - oh yes, he does.