*TEAM DRAGON COMMENT PORN*
"This isn't the way it's supposed to go," Severus says when Harry's hands leave off kneading his shoulders to draw a length of cotton over his eyes. "Shh." It's a strange sensation, Severus thinks as Harry knots the cloth into place, to be blinded by light instead of dark. He hears Harry step from behind him, bare feet slapping against the patio. Then silence; and the certainty of movement and action occuring that he cannot pinpoint. Severus' hands flex against his sides, itching to reach out. "I thought this was 'my weekend'," he says to fill the void of light before his eyes. Ah, there, a chuckle; low and close. "It is." He feels Harry's legs first, tbe brush of firm skin against his thighs morphing slowly to weight as Harry settles into his lap. It shouldn't be possible, really, but Severus would swear he can tell the precise place where Harry's thighs end and the curve of his arse begins; the skin there whispers against his nerves, weightless, teasing. "Then shouldn't," he pauses, adjusting to the taste-scent of the coconut oil, rich and heavy, filling his breath, "we be playing out my fantasy?" He lifts his hands from the chair arms, only to have them pressed back down, Harry's hands curling firmly over his wrists. "No touching. And what is your fantasy, Severus?" Knowing Harry is leaning closer by the shifting weight does not leave him prepared for the light brush of lips against his jaw. "You know my preferences," he answers, shifting ever so slightly, turning his head just there to let his own lips find Harry's own stubbled jaw. "Yes," Harry pulls back, but his hands slide up - up Severus' arms, past the sharp turn of his shoulders, to stroke his chest. "You like to look at me, don't you?" Severus flexes his hands against the chair arms and gives an answer that might be a yes, somewhere beneath the gutteral static surrounding it. "So maybe" -- and now those quick fingers are mapping the hesitant lines of his lips -- "just this once, I want to look at you." He can feel Harry's breath, falling against his mouth between the press of fingers, and his lips part as if welcoming in their own breath. "I-" a reflexive utterance that trails off even before Harry's whispered shh, let me see you and the delicate press of a kiss.