Ficlet: As Is (H/D, R)
This whole fic is basically me being contrary and unreasonable, hahah. See, H/D is my favorite pairing for a reason-- it's because it's got to be the most insane-yet-vaguely-possible pairing there is. It's all contrariness and snark and conflict and juvenile grudges and impossible dreams and hormones. That just tells you way more about me than I should be comfortable with, ahaha.
I wrote it on utter whim after reading Telanu's post about how she's sick of H/S after being so monogamous to it for 2 years. I totally dig that, man. So often I get so sick of H/D it's not even funny. They stick in my craw like mad-- it's been one and a half years, and, I mean. Soon I'll forget other things -exist-. Ahh, sweet obsession, how I lurve thee. And hate thee. And then there's the porn. That's basically it. It's all about the porn. Feel the love, man.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is mine, I tell you. MINE....Or not. Maybe not. Hmmm.... Okay, not.
Warning: Way dirtier than it has to be. Because I'm incorrigible, and my Draco likes to curse. A lot. Blame him; it's his dirty mouth. But don't blame Ani DiFranco for the title or Telanu for the unwitting inspiration. I don't mean anything by it, I swear!
- As Is -
"Goodbye," Harry lies.
"You don't mean that," Draco drawls.
"Don't you dare tell me what I mean, arsehole!"
"Or you'll-- what? Leave? Waltz right through that door, never to look back? Humiliate me in front of thousands of witnesses? Beat me at Quidditch? Fuck me raw?" Draco laughs. It's an ugly sound. "Been there, done that!"
"I said--"
"You can't say goodbye to me, you flaming imbecile." Draco's voice is smooth as moonlight on metal bars to his own ears. His ears deceive him.
Draco's unaware he's standing in front of the door, but he is. His feet spread in a way that leaves little to chance. He isn't moving-- but then, neither is Harry. He'll make sure of it.
"No?"
"No."
Harry doesn't look at him. "Why not?"
"Must I spell it out for you? You love me. I'm not about to write a sonnet, here." Draco's arms cross mulishly.
"I love you, I hate you, I love you again. So bloody what? I'm so tired and it's so over."
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"Because you're standing in front of the door, Draco." Harry sighs. "That's kind of childish, by the way."
"Oh. Childish, is it. Not enough for you, am I." Draco's eyes light up in that same old way, but he still doesn't move. "Don't I fuck you hard enough, Harry? Don't I kneel often enough? Do you need my pride, too? Well, here it is, Potter. Here it fucking is, and you're not fucking leaving, all right?! You're not. Fucking. Leaving. Me!"
Harry sighs, and Draco takes one step forward, quickly aborted. "Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you, Potter! You'll never walk out this door if you don't look at me!"
Draco's chest heaves and he flushes, clearly mortified at his runaway reactions.
"You're right."
"What?!"
"I said you're right, okay? Does that make you happy? I'll never walk out this door, Draco."
Draco pales, though it's nearly impossible to discern in the dim light. "Oh god... please don't...."
"This has happened before." Harry's voice is so weak, it's barely there. "There's no reason to pretend anymore." He slides down the wall, laying his head on his knees, seemingly trying to withdraw into himself completely. Draco just stares at him, at a loss for words. He could fight Harry, he could always fight Harry. But he couldn't fight a defeated Harry.
"Har--" Draco swallows; there is nothing to say.
"Yeah," Harry mumbles. "I try to stop, and we fight and then we fuck, and it's so good-- and it starts again. It always starts again, and I'm just tired. I can't now. I can't keep telling them what they want to hear, Draco. It's just. Game over, okay? I won't be a good little soldier anymore."
Draco bites his lip, exhaling hard. "You can't stop. We can't stop, Potter. There's no rest for the likes of us." That's not what Harry wanted to hear though, is it? And it's not that hard to say. Three words, and they're out. No skin off his back. But he couldn't. There are some things he couldn't do, especially now.
Harry laughs weakly, his shoulders shaking in what looks almost like he.... But he's not. He never cries; neither of them have, even since this latest nightmare began.
"You need the rush, Draco. You still need to win, though there's no prize left. It's addictive, isn't it? We could just fuck right this second and it'd be-- So. Good. And then it would all be okay until next time, right?"
"Since when do you get to tell me what I need, Potter?" Draco snarls. "Fucking look at me when you break up with me! Bloody hell! Since when are you a coward?"
Those eyes are steady when they meet his-- steady and dry, and Harry isn't laughing anymore. "Since I know I can't win, Draco," he says softly, rising to his knees and reaching across to handle Draco's obvious bulge. Their fights always have this effect on him. On both of them.
"Yes--"
Harry's eyes drift closed, and he inhales the heady scent of sex that lingers blatantly around Draco's crotch. "God, Draco--"
Draco knows he's starting to shake, half with anticipation and half with fear. He knows that Harry knows. They know the same thing.
Draco groans, stepping well away from the door to thrust an unsteady hand in Harry's hair, hissing softly at Harry's nearly subvocal moan on contact. "Yes," he gasps again, feeling the familiar texture slip silkily through his fingers. "Oh yes, Harry-- do it-- ohgodneed-- Fuck!"
Harry's on his knees in front of Draco again, but he has all the power-- again. He looks up, all clear eyes and silent questions. "What do you need? Tell me."
Draco drops to his knees beside Harry, hands cupping Harry's face as he looks right back at him. "This," he says, and kisses him. Harry tries to pull away, but Draco's mouth keeps blindly seeking, not taking no for an answer.
"And what is this?" Harry whispers against his mouth. "What--"
"Shhhh...." Draco's tongue slides across Harry's lips, as if sealing them shut. "It just is. Does it have to be anything else?"
"But tomorrow it'll be too late-- ohhhh--" Harry draws in a single breath between his teeth, body going limp when Draco's tongue darts in and out his through his lips.
Somehow, they've ended up spooned together on the floor. Draco wraps his body around Harry's back, tucking his knees behind Harry's and breathing in deeply. "Mmmm, tomorrow. There is no tomorrow, not for us." Draco's only thought is that Harry smells good.
Harry stiffens. "Draco-- let me go, I mean it, I have to speak to him, you'll be fine--"
"I know you bloody well mean it, Potter. I mean it, too. I'm not letting you go, do you understand me? It's very simple." His arms tighten around Harry until he's almost sure it has to be painful, though Harry doesn't make a sound. He just keeps breathing steadily as Draco speaks into his ear. "It's the simplest thing in the whole world, Potter. See?" He reaches a narrow, sleekly pale hand downwards, resting it lightly against Harry's hardening cock. It has always been this easy. Harry hisses, resenting it like he always does. But there is no escape, not for either of them, and they both know it. "You're mine."
"No! You don't understand, Malfoy, your father won't keep--"
Draco laughs, and it's almost a happy sound. "Oh yes. My father."
Draco's fingers tighten around Harry's still-trapped cock, squeezing none too gently. Harry's hips jerk forward and the back of his head hits Draco's shoulder. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room are muffled moans and the slick wet noises of tongue slipping past tongue, sucking and dancing away before plunging in again.
"My father will never have you, Potter. Do you understand?" Draco's voice is harsh, guttural just as his fingers turn gentle, and Harry has to shiver even though he hates it. He hates Draco's possessiveness and he hates the way it makes him feel: like he's about to melt into a puddle right in Draco's cool hands. He hates suspecting Draco's hands know him better than he knows himself. "No one will ever get to have you but me. No one, Potter."
Draco's hand has already slipped behind Harry's waistband and is wrapped around his swollen cock. "S-so-- h-h-hot-- D-Draco--" Draco's skin burns against Harry's, and it should hurt, but it doesn't. It couldn't. Harry's tongue feels thick and nearly leaden between his teeth, and they've stopped kissing, just gasping into each other's mouths.
"This-- is-- This is all there is-- Everything-- Aaahh--" Draco rocks against Harry's back and he whimpers a bit with every harsh tortured groan he pulls from the other boy's mouth.
"N-no--" One last time.
Draco gasps and laughs simultaneously. "Fuck YES--"
he pulls faster--
"--this--"
and Harry's moans turn to strangled screams--
"--is--"
Draco mewls loudly, biting down hard on his bottom lip as Harry's hips start to pump in earnest--
"--now, Harry!"
Both screams mingle in their mouths as they're swallowed or trapped half-formed in their lungs. They'd have bruises, later, though neither would notice.
They don't speak for a long while, even when the cold of the stone floor beneath them settles in.
Draco takes a deep breath, and surprises himself by speaking into the hollow of Harry's neck. There's nothing he wouldn't say to Harry's skin, because it's his. Nothing embarrasses him, and he feels calmer than he has in ages. "There's no tomorrow, Potter. Only now isn't enough, so it will have to be now again and again, simple as that. So have your big fucking goodbye, all right? There'll never be enough of this, not for us, but you can have this too, if you want. I can say it again-- just ask." Draco bares his teeth, grazes them lightly across Harry's flushed skin. He doesn't wait for a response. "Goodbye, Potter."
Harry shakes his head mutely, shivering. "No-- Malfoy-- not like--"
"No." Draco's voice is cold and stiff like both their limbs. "You wanted this. Goodbye," he says, disentangling himself. "Goodbye," he says, leaning down to press his mouth against Harry's, smirking like it's all a great joke he's pleased to share. "Goodbye!" he repeats, pulling himself up and away, getting to his feet.
There is a long silence.
There had never been anything to say in the first place, but every now and then one of them try, even imprisoned. They try not to count the days and the hours and the minutes they have remaining when every hour is one hour less.
"Goodbye," Harry repeats, his palm spread open against the heavy weight of the stone door between them and freedom. His back is to Draco, but Draco doesn't need to see his expression because he mirrors it. He wants his wand back, sometimes. Just to pretend like he has a choice, even though it's a futile gesture. Their choices would remain the same and they both know it.
"No," Draco whispers, because tomorrow couldn't come. "I lied. I meant hullo."
"Hullo," Harry lies.
And there's still nothing else to say.
~~~~~~~~
I wrote it on utter whim after reading Telanu's post about how she's sick of H/S after being so monogamous to it for 2 years. I totally dig that, man. So often I get so sick of H/D it's not even funny. They stick in my craw like mad-- it's been one and a half years, and, I mean. Soon I'll forget other things -exist-. Ahh, sweet obsession, how I lurve thee. And hate thee. And then there's the porn. That's basically it. It's all about the porn. Feel the love, man.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is mine, I tell you. MINE....Or not. Maybe not. Hmmm.... Okay, not.
Warning: Way dirtier than it has to be. Because I'm incorrigible, and my Draco likes to curse. A lot. Blame him; it's his dirty mouth. But don't blame Ani DiFranco for the title or Telanu for the unwitting inspiration. I don't mean anything by it, I swear!
- As Is -
"Goodbye," Harry lies.
"You don't mean that," Draco drawls.
"Don't you dare tell me what I mean, arsehole!"
"Or you'll-- what? Leave? Waltz right through that door, never to look back? Humiliate me in front of thousands of witnesses? Beat me at Quidditch? Fuck me raw?" Draco laughs. It's an ugly sound. "Been there, done that!"
"I said--"
"You can't say goodbye to me, you flaming imbecile." Draco's voice is smooth as moonlight on metal bars to his own ears. His ears deceive him.
Draco's unaware he's standing in front of the door, but he is. His feet spread in a way that leaves little to chance. He isn't moving-- but then, neither is Harry. He'll make sure of it.
"No?"
"No."
Harry doesn't look at him. "Why not?"
"Must I spell it out for you? You love me. I'm not about to write a sonnet, here." Draco's arms cross mulishly.
"I love you, I hate you, I love you again. So bloody what? I'm so tired and it's so over."
"Why are we having this conversation?"
"Because you're standing in front of the door, Draco." Harry sighs. "That's kind of childish, by the way."
"Oh. Childish, is it. Not enough for you, am I." Draco's eyes light up in that same old way, but he still doesn't move. "Don't I fuck you hard enough, Harry? Don't I kneel often enough? Do you need my pride, too? Well, here it is, Potter. Here it fucking is, and you're not fucking leaving, all right?! You're not. Fucking. Leaving. Me!"
Harry sighs, and Draco takes one step forward, quickly aborted. "Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you, Potter! You'll never walk out this door if you don't look at me!"
Draco's chest heaves and he flushes, clearly mortified at his runaway reactions.
"You're right."
"What?!"
"I said you're right, okay? Does that make you happy? I'll never walk out this door, Draco."
Draco pales, though it's nearly impossible to discern in the dim light. "Oh god... please don't...."
"This has happened before." Harry's voice is so weak, it's barely there. "There's no reason to pretend anymore." He slides down the wall, laying his head on his knees, seemingly trying to withdraw into himself completely. Draco just stares at him, at a loss for words. He could fight Harry, he could always fight Harry. But he couldn't fight a defeated Harry.
"Har--" Draco swallows; there is nothing to say.
"Yeah," Harry mumbles. "I try to stop, and we fight and then we fuck, and it's so good-- and it starts again. It always starts again, and I'm just tired. I can't now. I can't keep telling them what they want to hear, Draco. It's just. Game over, okay? I won't be a good little soldier anymore."
Draco bites his lip, exhaling hard. "You can't stop. We can't stop, Potter. There's no rest for the likes of us." That's not what Harry wanted to hear though, is it? And it's not that hard to say. Three words, and they're out. No skin off his back. But he couldn't. There are some things he couldn't do, especially now.
Harry laughs weakly, his shoulders shaking in what looks almost like he.... But he's not. He never cries; neither of them have, even since this latest nightmare began.
"You need the rush, Draco. You still need to win, though there's no prize left. It's addictive, isn't it? We could just fuck right this second and it'd be-- So. Good. And then it would all be okay until next time, right?"
"Since when do you get to tell me what I need, Potter?" Draco snarls. "Fucking look at me when you break up with me! Bloody hell! Since when are you a coward?"
Those eyes are steady when they meet his-- steady and dry, and Harry isn't laughing anymore. "Since I know I can't win, Draco," he says softly, rising to his knees and reaching across to handle Draco's obvious bulge. Their fights always have this effect on him. On both of them.
"Yes--"
Harry's eyes drift closed, and he inhales the heady scent of sex that lingers blatantly around Draco's crotch. "God, Draco--"
Draco knows he's starting to shake, half with anticipation and half with fear. He knows that Harry knows. They know the same thing.
Draco groans, stepping well away from the door to thrust an unsteady hand in Harry's hair, hissing softly at Harry's nearly subvocal moan on contact. "Yes," he gasps again, feeling the familiar texture slip silkily through his fingers. "Oh yes, Harry-- do it-- ohgodneed-- Fuck!"
Harry's on his knees in front of Draco again, but he has all the power-- again. He looks up, all clear eyes and silent questions. "What do you need? Tell me."
Draco drops to his knees beside Harry, hands cupping Harry's face as he looks right back at him. "This," he says, and kisses him. Harry tries to pull away, but Draco's mouth keeps blindly seeking, not taking no for an answer.
"And what is this?" Harry whispers against his mouth. "What--"
"Shhhh...." Draco's tongue slides across Harry's lips, as if sealing them shut. "It just is. Does it have to be anything else?"
"But tomorrow it'll be too late-- ohhhh--" Harry draws in a single breath between his teeth, body going limp when Draco's tongue darts in and out his through his lips.
Somehow, they've ended up spooned together on the floor. Draco wraps his body around Harry's back, tucking his knees behind Harry's and breathing in deeply. "Mmmm, tomorrow. There is no tomorrow, not for us." Draco's only thought is that Harry smells good.
Harry stiffens. "Draco-- let me go, I mean it, I have to speak to him, you'll be fine--"
"I know you bloody well mean it, Potter. I mean it, too. I'm not letting you go, do you understand me? It's very simple." His arms tighten around Harry until he's almost sure it has to be painful, though Harry doesn't make a sound. He just keeps breathing steadily as Draco speaks into his ear. "It's the simplest thing in the whole world, Potter. See?" He reaches a narrow, sleekly pale hand downwards, resting it lightly against Harry's hardening cock. It has always been this easy. Harry hisses, resenting it like he always does. But there is no escape, not for either of them, and they both know it. "You're mine."
"No! You don't understand, Malfoy, your father won't keep--"
Draco laughs, and it's almost a happy sound. "Oh yes. My father."
Draco's fingers tighten around Harry's still-trapped cock, squeezing none too gently. Harry's hips jerk forward and the back of his head hits Draco's shoulder. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room are muffled moans and the slick wet noises of tongue slipping past tongue, sucking and dancing away before plunging in again.
"My father will never have you, Potter. Do you understand?" Draco's voice is harsh, guttural just as his fingers turn gentle, and Harry has to shiver even though he hates it. He hates Draco's possessiveness and he hates the way it makes him feel: like he's about to melt into a puddle right in Draco's cool hands. He hates suspecting Draco's hands know him better than he knows himself. "No one will ever get to have you but me. No one, Potter."
Draco's hand has already slipped behind Harry's waistband and is wrapped around his swollen cock. "S-so-- h-h-hot-- D-Draco--" Draco's skin burns against Harry's, and it should hurt, but it doesn't. It couldn't. Harry's tongue feels thick and nearly leaden between his teeth, and they've stopped kissing, just gasping into each other's mouths.
"This-- is-- This is all there is-- Everything-- Aaahh--" Draco rocks against Harry's back and he whimpers a bit with every harsh tortured groan he pulls from the other boy's mouth.
"N-no--" One last time.
Draco gasps and laughs simultaneously. "Fuck YES--"
he pulls faster--
"--this--"
and Harry's moans turn to strangled screams--
"--is--"
Draco mewls loudly, biting down hard on his bottom lip as Harry's hips start to pump in earnest--
"--now, Harry!"
Both screams mingle in their mouths as they're swallowed or trapped half-formed in their lungs. They'd have bruises, later, though neither would notice.
They don't speak for a long while, even when the cold of the stone floor beneath them settles in.
Draco takes a deep breath, and surprises himself by speaking into the hollow of Harry's neck. There's nothing he wouldn't say to Harry's skin, because it's his. Nothing embarrasses him, and he feels calmer than he has in ages. "There's no tomorrow, Potter. Only now isn't enough, so it will have to be now again and again, simple as that. So have your big fucking goodbye, all right? There'll never be enough of this, not for us, but you can have this too, if you want. I can say it again-- just ask." Draco bares his teeth, grazes them lightly across Harry's flushed skin. He doesn't wait for a response. "Goodbye, Potter."
Harry shakes his head mutely, shivering. "No-- Malfoy-- not like--"
"No." Draco's voice is cold and stiff like both their limbs. "You wanted this. Goodbye," he says, disentangling himself. "Goodbye," he says, leaning down to press his mouth against Harry's, smirking like it's all a great joke he's pleased to share. "Goodbye!" he repeats, pulling himself up and away, getting to his feet.
There is a long silence.
There had never been anything to say in the first place, but every now and then one of them try, even imprisoned. They try not to count the days and the hours and the minutes they have remaining when every hour is one hour less.
"Goodbye," Harry repeats, his palm spread open against the heavy weight of the stone door between them and freedom. His back is to Draco, but Draco doesn't need to see his expression because he mirrors it. He wants his wand back, sometimes. Just to pretend like he has a choice, even though it's a futile gesture. Their choices would remain the same and they both know it.
"No," Draco whispers, because tomorrow couldn't come. "I lied. I meant hullo."
"Hullo," Harry lies.
And there's still nothing else to say.
~~~~~~~~