A Fine Spring AfternoonAuthor: cedarCharacters:
April '08 theme: Salirophilia: Arousal by tasting salty body fluids.Word Count:
Draco gets a second workout when he arrives home from his run.Author's notes:
This was going to be a dark fic, complete with whips, but when I sat down to write the fic it was a sunny, breezy, beautiful day (after it had rained most of the week) and, well, I had to put the whips away until next month. A Fine Spring Afternoon
"I'm going for a run. Back in maybe an hour."
Harry said nothing, didn't even look up from his book, but he tightened the muscles around his mouth to keep from smiling too broadly. Today was a perfect day for one of Draco's runs, warm and a little humid. It wasn't spring, Harry thought, until Draco entered the house with the scent of cut grass and dead leaves left over from autumn and the promise of fresh life clinging to his skin.
Occasionally Draco invited Harry to come running, but Harry always turned Draco down. He told Draco it was because he did enough running during the week at practices for the local Quidditch league, but the truth was that Draco was terrible at running and Harry would consistently leave him in the dust. Draco was slow and had little endurance. They hadn't been for a run together since the time they'd arrived home and Draco, who'd been completely silent for their last mile, promptly dropped to his knees on their front lawn and vomited.
Draco opened the door to the sound of Harry shouting, "Oh my God, why didn't I see this?"
"See what?" he panted.
"The narrator. I can't believe he was Tyler Durden all along."
"Never mind. How was your run?"
Bending forward to stretch his hamstring, Draco replied, "About as good as ever. Muggles walking Chihuahuas are faster than me. I felt like hexing them. Dunno why I keep doing this."
"Then why don't you quit?"
"Because I like the fresh air. And I get away from you for an hour." Draco arched to one side and rubbed along the bottom of his ribcage.
"Anyway, I need a shower."
Harry opened his mouth to say, "When you're done, we'll figure out what's for dinner," but he caught the scent of outside on Draco's skin, humid air and mud and sunlight. It stirred his heart. He set his book down on the couch and caught Draco by the wrist as Draco walked past.
"Harry, not now. I'm really…"
Harry lowered his head to Draco's neck as he folded Draco's arm behind his back. Draco sighed, squeezing Harry's fingers between his own. As he'd done before, Harry drew a line up the side of Draco's neck with his tongue.
And nearly exploded.
The saliferous taste of sweat on Draco's cool skin weakened Harry's knees. He moaned, swirling the tip of his tongue over Draco's pulse. With his mouth against Draco's neck Harry could feel Draco's heart racing, his breath accelerating. He pulled Draco tightly to him, pressing their hips together.
Harry's ardor elicited a laugh from Draco. "In the mood, are we? I promise you when I get out of the shower we can take this to the bedroom."
"I don't want to wait until you get out of the shower," Harry growled into Draco's shoulder. He took Draco's arm and sucked at the vein that ran through the crook of his elbow. Sweat had pooled here. Draco's taste of salt made Harry dizzy. "Want you now. Here."
"You could share my shower. Ouch!" Draco cried as Harry bit his upper arm. "I'm going to buy you some of those blood lollipops next time I'm in Hogsmeade, vampire."
"This is your fault for tasting so good," Harry murmured. "Don't want you to shower yet."
"I taste…good?" Amusement gave a lilt to Draco's question.
Draco didn't get to ask a second question, because Harry grabbed the front of his shirt and spun him around. Caught off balance, he stumbled and fell onto his back over the arm of the couch. The wind flew out of his lungs as Harry straddled him.
"So good," Harry said as he took Draco's wrists and pinned them over his head. He caught Draco's lower lip between his teeth and bit gently, savoring Draco's temporary helplessness. Draco's cheeks were warm, still pink from his exertion. Harry had tasted tears before and was surprised to learn that Draco's sweat was lighter, not as concentrated as tears. Letting go of Draco's hands, Harry slid down the length of Draco's body, pushing at the hem of his shirt. It was a cue Draco knew well. He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, his chest wet and shining. In that moment, Harry had no words. He could only lower his head and trace the line of Draco's sternum down to his stomach with kisses.
"You're giving me a second workout, you know," Draco quipped as Harry pulled at the waist of his shorts. "I'm going to need extra time in the shower."
"Shut up about the shower." Harry yanked Draco's shorts down his legs and dropped them to the floor. The pale hairs on Draco's legs glinted in the afternoon sun. "If I wanted you to take a shower," he said, nibbling at Draco's inner thigh, "I would have told you to take one."
"You want me all sweaty?"
"Yes." The room disappeared around Harry as he breathed Draco in. All sweaty was exactly how he wanted Draco, fresh from his run, salt residue on his skin. He took Draco's cock in his mouth and relished the taste, still salty, but bitter here as well. "Yes."
Draco arched his back, his hands still over his head. As far as he was concerned Harry could stay there all afternoon. This was always his favorite part on the path to orgasm, the feeling that he could stay here for hours, contented. He knew that Harry was much more frenetic, though, spurred by the acrid taste of him. Harry had reached into his trousers and was sliding his hand up and down the length of his own cock. The sight of Harry like that, desperate and twisting in his need to come, was Draco's aphrodisiac. He thrust into Harry's mouth, eyes wide open, muscles tense. Neither of them could reach climax fast enough. Draco got there only seconds before Harry. The taste of Draco's seed mixed with his sweat sent Harry over the edge, both of them gasping, Harry digging his fingers into Draco's thighs.
"If that's the way you feel," Draco panted when he regained the ability to speak, "I'll start skipping the shower after my run."
"Oh no," Harry replied, climbing up to sit on the couch. "You haven't seen what I've got planned for the shower."