The lentils got a bit uncool, floor-wise (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} arcadian_dream) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} jazzandpipes,@ 2008-07-22 21:56:00 |
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| Current mood: |  confused |
| Current music: | 'Blue Carolina' - Alkaline Trio |
| Entry tags: | pairing: neville/draco, potterverse, slash |
Home: Potterverse; Neville/Draco
Title: Home
Author: arcadian_dream
Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, explicit sex, rough sex, explicit language, top!Neville, a touch of crack ;)
Disclaimer: JKR's, I'm just playing ;)
Summary: A nocturnal soujourn to the greenhouses yields unexpected results...
Author's Notes: written for 30 Days of Neville over at xnevillelovingx
Words: 673
Comments: of course! ;)
The crisp earth crunched underfoot and Neville winced – indeed, it seemed the more care he took not to make a sound as he crept through the empty grounds, the more disturbance he inevitably caused. Regardless, he continued on, towards the row of greenhouses.
Heart thudding in his chest, Neville entered the farthest greenhouse. As he did so, immersing himself in the thick humidity of the trapped air, a familiar calm descended on Neville. As the olfactory orchestra of dirt and bark and organic matter – of life – invaded his senses, he closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he could not deny the shadow of contentment that passed over him in this place.
In this place, he was home.
Here, he was not the potion-spattered fool: the rag-tag bit-player. He was no longer the bumbling boy whose place in Gryffindor was questioned.
No longer the unsure teenager, long-limbed and awkward and seemingly made of spare parts that didn’t quite fit.
No: here, in this place, the scraps of which he so often felt he was composed, fell into place. Here he was, quite simply, whole.
In the greenhouses, surrounded by an array of both wonderful and terrifying magical plants – living things that had no choice but to bend to his will, his desire – Neville was more himself than anywhere else, at any time.
Here, he was in control.
Traipsing slowly towards one of the long timber tables, Neville sighed. He pressed a bare fingertip to the coarse, splintered surface; as he walked, he trailed his finger along the tabletop: his skin collecting particles of dust and dirt on its journey. Lifting his hand from the table, Neville pressed his thumb and forefinger together, rolling the tiny particles over the soft, warm skin.
“Longbottom?” a disembodied voice demanded in the darkness, “You here yet, Longbottom?” The cold voice sliced through Neville’s passing contentment; shaking him from the all-too-fleeting state.
Opening his eyes, Neville remembered why it was that he had come here; why it was that he had risked being caught not only out of bed, but also out of doors, after the evening curfew. His warm-brown, copper-flecked irises shone clearly as the nature of his evening’s purpose turned over in his mind. His cock began to twitch pleasantly at the…possibilities.
And he smiled, white teeth flashing momentarily in the dark.
Pivoting, Neville turned to face the entrance of the greenhouse, where a tall slim figure stood. The lithe shadow remained still, illuminated by the tip of his wand: the soft light set the boy’s pale, pointed features aglow in the dim of the night.
Neville cleared his throat, drawing his nocturnal companion’s attention.
Draco Malfoy scoffed.
“Well, what are you waiting for Longbottom, you useless lump – a fucking invitation?” he spat.
The rough scrape of fingernails on leather, and of the clattering of a belt buckle echoed through the greenhouse – soon, the aural cacophony was accompanied by the swoosh of trousers slipping over bare skin, and Neville’s certain footsteps as he approached the greenhouse doorway.
Standing before the now only partially clothed Slytherin, Neville spied a familiar smirk on the young wizard’s slender lips.
“On you knees, Longbottom,” Malfoy hissed.
“I don’t think so, Malfoy,” Neville replied coolly, tracing lightly over Malfoy’s bare thighs; he backed away slightly at Neville’s warm touch.
“Not here,” Neville continued, with a surety he so rarely felt.
Suddenly, with a few swift movements, Neville hoisted Malfoy up under the arms and flung him onto the nearest timber tabletop.
“Fuck, Longbottom!” Malfoy cried as his naked legs and arse made sudden contact with the rough wooden surface, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You’re on my turf now, Malfoy,” Neville breathed, as he leaned in, his tongue flickering over Malfoy’s neck. His cock throbbed. Neville hastily removed his trousers and underpants, freeing the swollen head from the constraining fabric.
“What are you – oh,” Malfoy gasped as Neville pressed the tip of his cock against the pink, puckered skin.
“My turf,” Neville repeated hoarsely as he slid slowly, surely into Malfoy:
“Home.”
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