Harry Potter: Stained Daydreams (Draco/Albus S.)
Title: Stained Daydreams
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters/plot nor am I making any amount of money from this.
Relationship: Draco/Albus S.
Summary: Professor Malfoy is lecturing the seventh year’s Advanced Potions class. Al is not paying attention.
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~200
A/N: For the prompt of ‘black ink’ from my rarepair_shorts prompt table.
Professor Malfoy is lecturing the seventh year’s Advanced Potions class. Al is not paying attention.
Professor Malfoy stands before them professional and just this side of severe. But there is a warmth there, if you know where to look, and Al is looking. The professor moves his hands with every word, an emphasis here or there, demonstrating the proper form for chopping, and dicing. Always graceful, always precise. There is dark ink on the Professor Malfoy's fingers. Al is mesmerized. He wonders at the feel of those fingers, shudders at the thought of stained fingers touching and claiming him, coaxing a broken whisper of Professor or better yet, Draco. Al wants to yield beneath those fingers, accept their direction- a press to his neck for speak, to his lips for hush now, just feel.
He sighs out of his daydream, the warmth leaving him for cold bitterness. He understands the futility of such fantasy. Just then, Professor Malfoy turns to him, sharp eyes scolding him for his inattention and Al blushes fiercely as he scrambles to answer the question posed to him, the warmth returning in a rush of recalled heat.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters/plot nor am I making any amount of money from this.
Relationship: Draco/Albus S.
Summary: Professor Malfoy is lecturing the seventh year’s Advanced Potions class. Al is not paying attention.
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~200
A/N: For the prompt of ‘black ink’ from my rarepair_shorts prompt table.
Professor Malfoy is lecturing the seventh year’s Advanced Potions class. Al is not paying attention.
Professor Malfoy stands before them professional and just this side of severe. But there is a warmth there, if you know where to look, and Al is looking. The professor moves his hands with every word, an emphasis here or there, demonstrating the proper form for chopping, and dicing. Always graceful, always precise. There is dark ink on the Professor Malfoy's fingers. Al is mesmerized. He wonders at the feel of those fingers, shudders at the thought of stained fingers touching and claiming him, coaxing a broken whisper of Professor or better yet, Draco. Al wants to yield beneath those fingers, accept their direction- a press to his neck for speak, to his lips for hush now, just feel.
He sighs out of his daydream, the warmth leaving him for cold bitterness. He understands the futility of such fantasy. Just then, Professor Malfoy turns to him, sharp eyes scolding him for his inattention and Al blushes fiercely as he scrambles to answer the question posed to him, the warmth returning in a rush of recalled heat.