When You Turn Your Back [Drarry]

[7] Put It On Me

Heavy on his stomach, the hand lay casually still, glistening with sweat. Those eyes still seized his attention to the last drop, as they laid without a thread of cloth on their bodies, though this time Draco had decided against returning the gaze. The afterthoughts were seeping in with each passing second, which made him busy thinking about ways to hide away or camouflage, since in his own apartment he was unable to run out at the moment.

From what he could gather, they were yet to catch their breaths or steady themselves from the prior action. A few fingers were still tracing light paths through his sweat beads low on his hip bone resulting in the same occasional tingles. Without the leverage of having a ground to say anything against it, his former dilemma of words to put his thoughts in reappeared within the minute, but he was unable to concentrate on a second thing other than those travelling fingers wrapping around his butt.

“You're very quite when you're with me.” Harry said to catch his attention even further.

The greens of his eyes were curious, even more than confused. Losing words in front of the man was not uncommon for the blonde, for most of the time his musings were unprecedented and lacked a comprehensible reason. But that did not stop Draco from feeling embarrassed all the same.

Draco looked up, waiting for him to continue to explain why he had that idea, or rather suggest him a few topics to extempore on. “What do people generally talk about when they sleep with their — ” Draco stopped himself rather abruptly, giving no space to improvise his words, even if it would have been useless anyway.

For the first second, he contemplated on actually running out of the main door, with or without clothes. The way Harry's eyes pierced through his skull, he was afraid it could leave him with serious injuries if the magic was not controlled skillfully.

“Uh — ”

“Sleep with their what, supposed friend?” the words didn't help his quickened heartbeat or the hint of fear of the repercussions he might have to face. Nothing violent, but words could be savage.

“I'm sorry — ” Draco tried to start, but Harry pressed a finger on his lips with a resounding “shush!”

“I understand where it's coming from.” Harry spoke again. With ridiculously bated breath, Draco devoured the touch of the hand slipping under his thigh with surprising roughness. “But I don't sleep with you, Draco,” he let a laugh slip through his lips which later fanned Draco's cheek.

“I fuck you,”

A few years back, Draco would have checked on him for the usage of such slangs, but he was preoccupied with the rush of the present to acknowledge any profanities thrown at him. The fingers under him that nudged his legs apart were precariously slow before he settled himself between them.

“Your eyes are still so blatant that sometimes I wonder whether you're faking it.” his words hit Draco in puffs of air on the lips. There was a legitimate excuse in handy for not being able to move, as Harry had him flat on his back, trapped on the floor with his body caving him. Even his hands were above his head. But his lips were yet to be captured, he was yet to be shut off by the other and he could not merely speak his confusion about what Harry was talking about. All he could register was the tip of a member touching his lower abdomen; whether or not it was Harry's, he could not tell.

“Speak,” Harry whispered in his ear with the lobe between his teeth, pulling.

What was he supposed to say? He felt annoyed at the distraction of words that was demanded from him. For god's sake, he didn't even know what the person trying to have him whole was speaking about.