Five kisses for a cold February evening
Feb. 24th, 2004 09:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
geovikiI managed to come up with just enough kisses that I've written to take advantage of the 5 kisses meme. Whoo!
The first is from Waters of March
[Harry/Draco]
He didn't yet know the last thing he was planning to do, but he did know the next. With his free hand, he nudged the wand from his pocket and drew it out. "Colloportus," he commanded, and a distinct click issued simultaneously from both doors.
Harry startled at the sound and asked, "What are you doing?"
Draco let the silence answer for him, certain that Harry had identified the sound and by now his intention.
"Harry...." But he had no desire to continue that thought – not with words, anyway. Grabbing what courage he could and ignoring the doubts flooding him, he closed the remaining space between them and tentatively brushed his lips gently against Harry's. Seeking...just seeking...but what he would find, he didn't know.
The response was instant. At first, Harry kissed back with a mirroring gentleness, then with more urgency, which Draco echoed. Sliding his hand across Harry's shoulder, lightly and slowly, his fingertips caressed his neck and trailed into his dark hair. Their kiss intensified until they were both gasping for air, and they had to reluctantly separate.
Harry's glasses had been pushed askew, and Draco removed them gently. He used his wand, still in hand, to send them safely to the desk, then tucked it back into his pocket. He had a feeling he was going to want both hands free.
He had never seen Harry's eyes without glasses, and he was instantly enveloped in their opulent greenness. To his astonishment, he saw desire and purpose in those eyes, and at the same time, he felt Harry's hands longingly stroke his face. He could no longer bear their separation and again dove in to the sweet mystery that was Harry's mouth. Heat and intensity rose between them like flames, and Draco felt as though he was a phoenix burning away everything he was, changing and being reborn in all that fire into something new and vital and wonderful. Harry's lips parted at the urging of his tongue, and they were tasting and licking at each other as if they were starving.
I'm kissing Harry Potter. And he's kissing me.
The next two are from Telling Hogwarts
[Harry/Draco; humor]
He turned in Harry's arms, and they pressed together, lips against skin.
Harry was no artist, but he was suddenly inspired to arrange Draco against the wall behind the hanging Quidditch robes. All that pale skin and pale hair would make a dramatic tableau, he imagined, against the vivid contrast of dark material. Slytherin colors, he decided on the fly, would look best – dark, dark green; pale, pale Draco. He'd call it Still Life with Seeker. Although truthfully, he wasn't hoping for still. He lunged with enthusiasm toward his target, pinning Draco's arms and propelling them both into the folds of material.
It might have worked had there actually been a wall behind the Quidditch robes.
Instead, their momentum carried them precipitously onto the very hard, very dusty, and not at all artistically pleasing floor. Nor did the Quidditch robes that slid atop them in a heap have the precise drape and contrast that Harry had been looking for. And Draco, uncomfortably flattened under him, bare skin against the rough oak floor, was decidedly pissed off.
"Shit! Potter! What the hell was that for?"
Harry, a little breathless at the acrobatics, was sincerely abashed at the turn of events. "Oh my god, Draco, I'm really sorry,. I thought....damn, wasn't there a wall there once?"
"No." Draco's eyes were still shooting daggers at him.
Harry managed the only thing he could think of under the circumstances – woeful apologies intermixed with enthusiastic snogging. After a few minutes of that, Draco was at least somewhat placated, but still not exactly cheery.
[Harry/Draco; humor]
Harry shivered, watching snowflakes drift past his common room window, thinking how much warmer, though lonelier, he was now. Fifteen minutes ago, he and Draco had been clinging together for warmth behind Hagrid's hut, shoes steadily becoming soggier in the slush, snow piling up and soaking their heads and shoulders and backs. The kisses that Draco trailed along his neck were arousing for the tenth of a second before the wind turned their dampness to frigid ice. He'd worried about risking frostbite after yanking off his gloves to touch the tiny bit of skin that Draco had dared expose to him. Frustrated, they had given up, and their parting kiss encompassed more scarf than lips.
Draco was absolutely right. They deserved decent accommodations.
The last two are from an unposted, unbeta'd WIP that's about 3/4 through the first draft, working title of "A Thousand Beautiful Things.
[Harry/Draco]
"No. Don't go. Please."
Looking back, he never did figure out why he reacted the way he did to Potter's entreaty – the first time he ever recalled Potter using the word please with him. Maybe it was the only way he could find to say goodbye to his childhood. Or it could have been a reaction to his earlier, humbling confession to Severus. He was immersed in viewing such a cold finality in everything – the hall, the night, the words echoing around him. Everything was closing in on him, freezing him. Maybe he was only looking for warmth. Goodbye ... goodbye ... this is the last time....
But something in the tone of Potter's voice, something in his whispered plea, made him surrender to the impulse to draw close to his rival, to carefully rest his hands on his shoulders to steady him and to pull him close. He felt warm breath dancing on his cheek, suddenly faster and more erratic than it had been during the speech, now intimate and tempting. He acted without wanting to think too hard about what he was doing – what they were both doing. He stilled Potter's gasp with his lips and felt the responding pressure as though it was a wave breaking over him. Drowning him. Goodbye.
And in this dark, empty hall, where he stood balanced between two worlds – here between the past and the unknown future – he could pretend that this kiss was the only thing that mattered. Here, he allowed himself to imagine he was no longer Draco Malfoy, with every bit of history that name dragged with it, but just a lonely soldier headed off to war. And here, he could almost believe that Potter was different, too.
[Draco and OC]
"To beauty," Levon said whimsically. "Otherwise, I'd never have met you."
Draco sipped quietly. All at once, he judged that he had had quite enough of playing the passive innocent. Setting down his glass, he moved closer to Levon, slipping gracefully into his arms, and lifted his hands to the other man's face to stroke his jaw with pale fingers.
Levon inhaled sharply and melted into his touch. "Draco," he murmured, and moved quickly to bury his face in soft blond hair. Draco combed his fingers through the dark ponytail, yanking out the band that held it and sending the dark locks spilling over his hands in a sensuous cascade.
Levon moaned softly into his ear, then turned and ran his tongue across his neck, up over his chin, and finally connected with lips and tongue and teeth. It was warm, hot, smooth, wet, intense, burning, everything Draco needed and wanted in that instant.
Levon wasn't slowing down for anything. "I want you..."he crooned. "I want your mouth. I want your cock. I want it all, Draco. Would you let me have it?"
The first is from Waters of March
[Harry/Draco]
He didn't yet know the last thing he was planning to do, but he did know the next. With his free hand, he nudged the wand from his pocket and drew it out. "Colloportus," he commanded, and a distinct click issued simultaneously from both doors.
Harry startled at the sound and asked, "What are you doing?"
Draco let the silence answer for him, certain that Harry had identified the sound and by now his intention.
"Harry...." But he had no desire to continue that thought – not with words, anyway. Grabbing what courage he could and ignoring the doubts flooding him, he closed the remaining space between them and tentatively brushed his lips gently against Harry's. Seeking...just seeking...but what he would find, he didn't know.
The response was instant. At first, Harry kissed back with a mirroring gentleness, then with more urgency, which Draco echoed. Sliding his hand across Harry's shoulder, lightly and slowly, his fingertips caressed his neck and trailed into his dark hair. Their kiss intensified until they were both gasping for air, and they had to reluctantly separate.
Harry's glasses had been pushed askew, and Draco removed them gently. He used his wand, still in hand, to send them safely to the desk, then tucked it back into his pocket. He had a feeling he was going to want both hands free.
He had never seen Harry's eyes without glasses, and he was instantly enveloped in their opulent greenness. To his astonishment, he saw desire and purpose in those eyes, and at the same time, he felt Harry's hands longingly stroke his face. He could no longer bear their separation and again dove in to the sweet mystery that was Harry's mouth. Heat and intensity rose between them like flames, and Draco felt as though he was a phoenix burning away everything he was, changing and being reborn in all that fire into something new and vital and wonderful. Harry's lips parted at the urging of his tongue, and they were tasting and licking at each other as if they were starving.
I'm kissing Harry Potter. And he's kissing me.
The next two are from Telling Hogwarts
[Harry/Draco; humor]
He turned in Harry's arms, and they pressed together, lips against skin.
Harry was no artist, but he was suddenly inspired to arrange Draco against the wall behind the hanging Quidditch robes. All that pale skin and pale hair would make a dramatic tableau, he imagined, against the vivid contrast of dark material. Slytherin colors, he decided on the fly, would look best – dark, dark green; pale, pale Draco. He'd call it Still Life with Seeker. Although truthfully, he wasn't hoping for still. He lunged with enthusiasm toward his target, pinning Draco's arms and propelling them both into the folds of material.
It might have worked had there actually been a wall behind the Quidditch robes.
Instead, their momentum carried them precipitously onto the very hard, very dusty, and not at all artistically pleasing floor. Nor did the Quidditch robes that slid atop them in a heap have the precise drape and contrast that Harry had been looking for. And Draco, uncomfortably flattened under him, bare skin against the rough oak floor, was decidedly pissed off.
"Shit! Potter! What the hell was that for?"
Harry, a little breathless at the acrobatics, was sincerely abashed at the turn of events. "Oh my god, Draco, I'm really sorry,. I thought....damn, wasn't there a wall there once?"
"No." Draco's eyes were still shooting daggers at him.
Harry managed the only thing he could think of under the circumstances – woeful apologies intermixed with enthusiastic snogging. After a few minutes of that, Draco was at least somewhat placated, but still not exactly cheery.
[Harry/Draco; humor]
Harry shivered, watching snowflakes drift past his common room window, thinking how much warmer, though lonelier, he was now. Fifteen minutes ago, he and Draco had been clinging together for warmth behind Hagrid's hut, shoes steadily becoming soggier in the slush, snow piling up and soaking their heads and shoulders and backs. The kisses that Draco trailed along his neck were arousing for the tenth of a second before the wind turned their dampness to frigid ice. He'd worried about risking frostbite after yanking off his gloves to touch the tiny bit of skin that Draco had dared expose to him. Frustrated, they had given up, and their parting kiss encompassed more scarf than lips.
Draco was absolutely right. They deserved decent accommodations.
The last two are from an unposted, unbeta'd WIP that's about 3/4 through the first draft, working title of "A Thousand Beautiful Things.
[Harry/Draco]
"No. Don't go. Please."
Looking back, he never did figure out why he reacted the way he did to Potter's entreaty – the first time he ever recalled Potter using the word please with him. Maybe it was the only way he could find to say goodbye to his childhood. Or it could have been a reaction to his earlier, humbling confession to Severus. He was immersed in viewing such a cold finality in everything – the hall, the night, the words echoing around him. Everything was closing in on him, freezing him. Maybe he was only looking for warmth. Goodbye ... goodbye ... this is the last time....
But something in the tone of Potter's voice, something in his whispered plea, made him surrender to the impulse to draw close to his rival, to carefully rest his hands on his shoulders to steady him and to pull him close. He felt warm breath dancing on his cheek, suddenly faster and more erratic than it had been during the speech, now intimate and tempting. He acted without wanting to think too hard about what he was doing – what they were both doing. He stilled Potter's gasp with his lips and felt the responding pressure as though it was a wave breaking over him. Drowning him. Goodbye.
And in this dark, empty hall, where he stood balanced between two worlds – here between the past and the unknown future – he could pretend that this kiss was the only thing that mattered. Here, he allowed himself to imagine he was no longer Draco Malfoy, with every bit of history that name dragged with it, but just a lonely soldier headed off to war. And here, he could almost believe that Potter was different, too.
[Draco and OC]
"To beauty," Levon said whimsically. "Otherwise, I'd never have met you."
Draco sipped quietly. All at once, he judged that he had had quite enough of playing the passive innocent. Setting down his glass, he moved closer to Levon, slipping gracefully into his arms, and lifted his hands to the other man's face to stroke his jaw with pale fingers.
Levon inhaled sharply and melted into his touch. "Draco," he murmured, and moved quickly to bury his face in soft blond hair. Draco combed his fingers through the dark ponytail, yanking out the band that held it and sending the dark locks spilling over his hands in a sensuous cascade.
Levon moaned softly into his ear, then turned and ran his tongue across his neck, up over his chin, and finally connected with lips and tongue and teeth. It was warm, hot, smooth, wet, intense, burning, everything Draco needed and wanted in that instant.
Levon wasn't slowing down for anything. "I want you..."he crooned. "I want your mouth. I want your cock. I want it all, Draco. Would you let me have it?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-24 09:01 pm (UTC)Seriously, I'm excited to see you're 3/4 through your first draft.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-24 09:23 pm (UTC)Wait 'til you read the exhibitionist!Draco wanking scene.
hey geoviki. what's up? Bono/Clannad again. That boy always sings like he's about two or three str
Date: 2004-02-25 04:33 am (UTC)The Passion of The Christ (http://www.ThePassionOfTheChrist.com) is in theaters soon - this week on Wednesday.. what do you think about this movie? I'm going to see it for sure - the trailers (http://www.thepassion.tv) were enough to convince me. I read somewhere that it's the widest opening ever for a subtitled movie; I have a feeling subtitles won't detract from the full effect of this movie though. After looking at the trailers which have no subtitles or english at all, it was reinforced for me that lack of spoken english in this film won't hurt one bit. To sum up my impression of The Passion: it's a work of art.
Good Website (http://www.passion-movie.com)
Another fascinating aspect to this movie is all the controversy that has been generated about it.
Some people, not really representative of Jewish people, but rather self appointed Jewish spokespeople, such as Abraham Foxman from the Anti-Defamation League, seem to have been attempting to denounce this film for months as being anti-Semitic. The news reported that they even stole the script last year! But here's what some Jews say (Jews who don't make it their job to tear apart other people): by Rabbi Daniel Lapin.
Nice to see some people speaking rationally.
So what do you think of all this?
*** Kyle
no subject
Date: 2004-02-25 05:27 am (UTC)Lovely. Romantic. Hot. GAH.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-25 07:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-25 05:39 am (UTC)Write, write, write, viki! And let me know if I can do anything to encourage you in that.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-25 07:55 am (UTC)My little fic posted earlier on my LJ - The Wings of Azrael - is also part of this story. It's turning out to be very long, so it's taking a while, but I'm actively writing away. Thanks for the encouragement.