Author: Moonglow-girl
Title: A Map of You
Rating: R
Pair: H/D
Words: 1,079
Disclaimer: I don't own them, JKR does. I just use them for my perverse little fantasies and dreams. You sue; you get a beater car and 2 pennies.
Your lips reach for mine; alabaster rose almost touching tanned peach, cold looking pink stroking warmed tan.
I feel your breath, hot yet cold; little puffs of air, soft and hard on my face, cheeks, lips. A hint of vanilla comes from you while you say that I smell of pine, mint and musk. Rugged outdoorsy versus cultured aristocratic softness.
Our lips finally meet, after what seems to be an eternity is only a few seconds. Once, twice, then a never ending tangle where there is no discernable line between you and me. We are fused at the mouth, glued, locked, never to come apart again, until the annoying need of oxygen is suddenly all consuming.
Our tongues go to war, but there is neither winner nor loser in this war. We constantly fight for dominance, yet we both seek to be the dominator while unconsciously longing to be submissive. It is slippery, wet, glorious and rapture inducing.
Our tongues are not our own, they belong to different people. People who care not about who they are, what they do, or who they are friends with.
My lips travel, never staying in one place, impossible to not move. No place is safe; everything is fair game to my insatiable mouth.
Where neck meets body, I attack. The juncture is perfection embodied; smooth, perfect lines that are somehow angular yet graceful. I raise my mouth; there is a perfect imprint remaining. A reddish-pink splotch marking the pure marble that is your snow-white skin.
Butterfly kisses are placed tenderly, lovingly along your body, slowly making their way to a greater destination south of the border. A gentle nip, soothing bite, teasing suck are bestowed with equality everywhere. Your pink passion-kissed nipples, your trembling hands, shivering feet, and shaking face.
You are steel wrapped in velvet, strong yet amazingly smooth, unbending and supple. Your navel calls to me, imploring further exploration to a greater depth. My tongue agrees, and you are soon, all too quickly basking in my ministrations, your body bucking from my tongue, your nerves near to overload.
Sweat runs in rivulets, tiny rivers of liquid salt. I see the tension, felt the strain and stress your muscles are under. Drops run down your perfect chest, over your slim muscles, down to the semi-visible abdomen, leading to the will'o the wisps arrow of hair.
That hair, that sun kissed snow downy fine hair, silky smooth yet strong curling hair. Scattered here, there, everywhere, in infinite amounts; a layer of smooth silk over sinuous velveteen strength.
The rest is cut off by your now very unneeded and offending designer slacks. My thumb flicks one button, then two, unzips a zipper, and they slither over your arched hips, gracefully making their way to the floor.
What happened to your shirt, I honestly cannot say. I know you came in wearing it, but after your lips decided they liked being fused to mine, it made its way voluntarily to the floor. At least, I think it was voluntary.
You surprised me, when your pants came off. I always thought that you would wear green silk boxers, perhaps with a bit of silver shot on them, not your glorious skin. No underwear at all does however seem to be you, now that I know you.
I nuzzle your hairs, slowly, ever so slowly making my way down from your beguiling bellybutton to your famous, or should I say infamous, glorious and beautifully cut cock.
It juts like a crag from your body, demanding my presence and domineering your whole body. Hard like titanium, soft as downy skin, it is a true oxymoron. Deep flushed pink, a blushing rose colour with a red-wine tip. It has a life of its own, twitching of its own accord, moving, as I grow closer, ever closer to your final destination.
Then I am there, and bestow a kiss, for it is all I have to offer, on your demanding, upholding cock. There are such things as expectations, and your cock goes far above all of my wildest dreams.
As soon as my lips touch your body again you breathe or moan, I can't tell which, a sigh.
"...Harry..."
That single sounds send paroxysms of delight down my spine, makes my whole body shiver with delight.
Your long, delicate fingers tangle in my hair, turning my stylishly messed hair into a banshee's nest of knots and tangles. Tugging my head slowly but surely towards your insistent cock, begging to put my mouth to better uses.
I look up to see your face, my spring green eyes meeting your liquid silver, mercurial eyes. Mine ask a question, and yours give the answer. There is uncertainty lurking behind your eyes, but there is also trust, something I know that I will never abuse.
My mouth stretches to encompass your magnificent cock. Not too big, nor too small. Just right.
You wordlessly gasp, gibber something I cannot comprehend. I take it as positive, and move further on down. I don't know if it's words you are saying, or if its just sexual nonsense; I really don't care, as long as you don't stop making those lovely little noise of ecstasy.
Suction is added to my very small repertoire, and I can tell that you are nearing your own personal high. Sound is coming from your sweet mouth, your body is tensing like a bowstring, and you are slick with sweat, a very minuscule amount of blood, and a trail of tears of passion.
Your body shudders, you gasp for breath, and you form a human arch over the bed. A perfect arch, one Vitruvius would have been proud of, with your cock forming the keystone.
Your pearly white come spurts out in jets, layering me in a lacy pattern. Warm, liquid, the essence of you.
I look up to your face, now flushed with post-coital bliss. Your eyes are burning, molten silver, burning me with their gaze; your lips swollen from biting them in ecstasy. Sweat running into your perfectly styled hair, not ruining your coif but messily perfecting the tousled sexy look.
I feel you say what I have been longing to hear.
"...love you..."
I hear your heartbeat, beneath your chest, next to my ear. It is slowing down from its arresting speed, somehow returning to a semblance of normal.
This night I will and have committed to memory. It is a key point on the map of our relationship. It is where I said that I loved you back on my map of you.
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