darkhavens (
darkhavens) wrote2006-06-07 11:45 pm
Entry tags:
'Out of Order', 4/5, Draco/Harry
Author: darkhavens
Title: Out of Order, 4/5
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 overall
Words: 100
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary:
Notes: Written for
stagesoflove 2006, Round 3, 'Five Firsts', #4 - First Time.
Also for
literati, who used the age-old plea of 'If you loved me…'
Stage #1 First Meeting, stage #2 First Kiss, stage #3 First Argument (As a Couple).
First Time
They came together filled with desperation, sure that one or both would not survive the coming fight. They stole an hour between training sessions and councils of war, cloistered behind a solid wall of spells. They knew they didn't have much time.
Frantic hands left purple bruises on hips and thighs, scratched fiery stripes of heat across bare backs. There was no finesse and very little tenderness; gentle touches put aside for later, if they had one.
Words they couldn't voice were mapped by lips and tongues on fevered skin, etched into their souls like tattooed Braille.
They didn't speak.
First Date
Title: Out of Order, 4/5
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13 overall
Words: 100
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary:
Notes: Written for
Also for
Stage #1 First Meeting, stage #2 First Kiss, stage #3 First Argument (As a Couple).
First Time
They came together filled with desperation, sure that one or both would not survive the coming fight. They stole an hour between training sessions and councils of war, cloistered behind a solid wall of spells. They knew they didn't have much time.
Frantic hands left purple bruises on hips and thighs, scratched fiery stripes of heat across bare backs. There was no finesse and very little tenderness; gentle touches put aside for later, if they had one.
Words they couldn't voice were mapped by lips and tongues on fevered skin, etched into their souls like tattooed Braille.
They didn't speak.
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Poor boys.
I love that frantic, silent, *urgent* picture.
Lovely.
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I love that frantic, silent, *urgent* picture.
That's it exactly! Seizing the moment now because they don;t think they'll survive the war.
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That is all.
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*misses*
*pines*
:D
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