by Ishafel

He has a scar at the base of his thumb, and you know how it came to be there and you love him like a brother, more than a lover, more than a son, more than you love the future or the past or yourself. And when he tells you to trust him you do, you always trust him and he never lets you down. He is beautiful and he is golden and he always always loves you back and when you fall behind he waits for you he carries you he drags you if he has to.

The first time you are afraid but you are always afraid, it is why you need him to lead you. It is not romantic, there are no candles and no roses but there is him and there is you and the stars are dim and the night is quiet. He pulls you down against the stone of the tower floor and kisses you as though he cannot breathe and you touch the chip in his tooth with your tongue and you remember how he got it. Your pasts run together like rivers to a shared sea, and it is right your bodies should twine so. The bones of his shoulders are tiny under your enormous fingers and you want to linger there but he pushes you down and ever onward.

His nipples are dark as chocolate drops and they quicken to your touch and to your tongue and he says your name like a sigh but you want him to scream it. And his ribs are lines in the moonlight, that same pale body you have seen a thousand times in the Quidditch changing rooms and the faint dusting of hair silver-pale that is new. And you love him, you love him like the morning, like air, like breathing, you love him far more than you have ever loved your family or yourself.

It is larger than you expect it to be. For a moment you are not sure you can do this, not sure it is the right thing to do, but you know that if he wants it he must be right. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you close your mouth around his cock. It tastes like coming home, and the weight of it is enough to make you hard, so that while he thrusts against your throat you thrust against the cold of the stone and never mind it. You spend the night there, three days, a week, or only moments, and when he comes you swallow as if you are starving, and he says softly that he loves you and you know him well enough to know it is the truth.


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