Happy Birthday Elfflame!!! A short ficlet for you!
Title: Death Shall Have No Dominion
Author: ldybastet
Pairing: Blaise/Draco
Rating: R
Summary: Blaise has too vivid imagination, especially at night.
Warnings: Purple prose. *g*
Note: Takes place during their sixth year. Happy birthday elfflame! *hugs* I tried to convince Blaise to tell me a happier story, but he refused.
~*~
Death Shall Have No Dominion
Sometimes Blaise was busy in the middle of the night. He was busy watching Draco sleep.
The pale skin and the silver-blond hair kept tempting him to reach out over the gap between their beds and touch them, feel them, caress them... the moon made Draco look ethereal and fay, as if death would reach out its hand from the deep shadows in the room and snatch him from the realm of the living. Blaise wasn't sure what would unsettle him the most - a bony arm covered in rags, ending in a hand clutching a scythe that would cleave Draco's spirit from his body, or if Draco would just stop breathing.
If there were an apparition of Death in the room, then he might have the time to warn Draco of his fate, to rouse him from his deep sleep; whereas if there were nothing, then Blaise would have no time at all.
Blaise didn't watch Draco to wank, even though he found him attractive enough.
But Draco was looking paler now than ever, and his features were drawn, the pointy chin even more pronounced. Was this how Death reached out? Not snatching Draco quickly, but pulling the life out him little by little... in the end, leaving Blaise powerless to prevent it.
It was this that finally pushed Blaise out of his own bed. Silently, he took the steps over to Draco's bed and reached out to brush a fingertip over the alabaster cheek. He gasped and withdrew his hand when Draco's eyes flew open, but there was no blame in them, no anger. Instead, Draco reached up and took Blaise's hand, pulling him closer.
'Don't leave me alone. Help me chase away the darkness.'
There was nothing strange with the request. The stillness of night and the echoes of Blaise's morbid thoughts formed the perfect canvas for such words. They could have been powerful wizards of old, warrior mages facing an unknown threat come dawn, finding respite and solace in each other's company. Blaise didn't know where this feeling came from, but he wanted to stand by Draco's side and fight with him. But what the enemy was, he could not say, except that he could feel its malicious presence looming closer and closer every night.
Draco welcomed him into his bed, lifted the duvet to give him room; he wrapped his arms around Blaise and his breath ghosted over skin that flushed in response. Blaise was happy to find that his mind had deceived him: Draco was warm and full of life, moving under the caresses as he explored with his hands and lips. Heat flared between them, lust kindled fires that made them burn inside with a desire that was new to them. The bedframe creaked in vague protests as they strove to find more delight and pleasure, as their movements grew more frenzied and determined.
In the stillness that followed the climax, they lay together, bodies damp from the exertion, lips dark from kisses. No words were exchanged, no questions asked. They were comfortable in this companionship, and when Draco fell asleep in Blaise's arms, a small smile gracing his face, Blaise felt accomplished. If necessary, he would help his friend battle the phantoms of darkness away every night. He was certain that for every battle they won together, the closer they were to winning the war, and Death would have to find another victim to haunt.
Author: ldybastet
Pairing: Blaise/Draco
Rating: R
Summary: Blaise has too vivid imagination, especially at night.
Warnings: Purple prose. *g*
Note: Takes place during their sixth year. Happy birthday elfflame! *hugs* I tried to convince Blaise to tell me a happier story, but he refused.
~*~
Death Shall Have No Dominion
Sometimes Blaise was busy in the middle of the night. He was busy watching Draco sleep.
The pale skin and the silver-blond hair kept tempting him to reach out over the gap between their beds and touch them, feel them, caress them... the moon made Draco look ethereal and fay, as if death would reach out its hand from the deep shadows in the room and snatch him from the realm of the living. Blaise wasn't sure what would unsettle him the most - a bony arm covered in rags, ending in a hand clutching a scythe that would cleave Draco's spirit from his body, or if Draco would just stop breathing.
If there were an apparition of Death in the room, then he might have the time to warn Draco of his fate, to rouse him from his deep sleep; whereas if there were nothing, then Blaise would have no time at all.
Blaise didn't watch Draco to wank, even though he found him attractive enough.
But Draco was looking paler now than ever, and his features were drawn, the pointy chin even more pronounced. Was this how Death reached out? Not snatching Draco quickly, but pulling the life out him little by little... in the end, leaving Blaise powerless to prevent it.
It was this that finally pushed Blaise out of his own bed. Silently, he took the steps over to Draco's bed and reached out to brush a fingertip over the alabaster cheek. He gasped and withdrew his hand when Draco's eyes flew open, but there was no blame in them, no anger. Instead, Draco reached up and took Blaise's hand, pulling him closer.
'Don't leave me alone. Help me chase away the darkness.'
There was nothing strange with the request. The stillness of night and the echoes of Blaise's morbid thoughts formed the perfect canvas for such words. They could have been powerful wizards of old, warrior mages facing an unknown threat come dawn, finding respite and solace in each other's company. Blaise didn't know where this feeling came from, but he wanted to stand by Draco's side and fight with him. But what the enemy was, he could not say, except that he could feel its malicious presence looming closer and closer every night.
Draco welcomed him into his bed, lifted the duvet to give him room; he wrapped his arms around Blaise and his breath ghosted over skin that flushed in response. Blaise was happy to find that his mind had deceived him: Draco was warm and full of life, moving under the caresses as he explored with his hands and lips. Heat flared between them, lust kindled fires that made them burn inside with a desire that was new to them. The bedframe creaked in vague protests as they strove to find more delight and pleasure, as their movements grew more frenzied and determined.
In the stillness that followed the climax, they lay together, bodies damp from the exertion, lips dark from kisses. No words were exchanged, no questions asked. They were comfortable in this companionship, and when Draco fell asleep in Blaise's arms, a small smile gracing his face, Blaise felt accomplished. If necessary, he would help his friend battle the phantoms of darkness away every night. He was certain that for every battle they won together, the closer they were to winning the war, and Death would have to find another victim to haunt.