Jun. 7th, 2007


Temptation Beckons

Title: Temptation Beckons
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco and Lucius Malfoy
Prompt: 001: Beginnings
Word Count: 542
Rating: PG-13
Author’s Notes: Written for [info]slash_100 on LJ. Warnings for thoughts of incest. Lucius watches his son practice.

the forbidden )


Eyes Like Mine

Eyes Like Mine

Rating: R.

A companion to "Night" What followed after their eyes met.

A warm touch ghosting over his face. A brush of lips to his cheek. The sensation of warm breath caressing his skin, and Edward was pulled toward consciousness. He gazed sleepily up into eyes like his, and the countenance of a man with conflicted emotions. Ed frowned slightly, confused. He watched his father lean down, moving as though time itself had slowed.

Those lips loomed closer and closer until flesh met flesh. The gentle press soon gave way to ravenous devouring, as though Ed was food to a starving man. Perhaps he was.

Had he ever kissed Mother like this?

Those lips trailing down the side of his neck. The moist trail left behind. Fingers making short work of buttons. A hand caressing a sweat-sheened belly. A mouth following in that hand's wake. Ed's hand fisting in golden hair. He shivered at the tickle of a beard. He gasped as pants were slid down toned thighs, revealing his most private part to air.

Eyes looking up into his, desire and a last ounce of morality warring for control. The battle won, a heated mouth engulfed him whole. Here was bliss. And passion.

And wrong.

There were those who still believed that the dead were in a better place. That their spirits watched over the ones that they loved. Looking down on the two of them now, what would she say?
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Rating: PG

Post-series. Edward sleeps. Hohenheim watches.

He regarded the slumbering teen from the chair in which he sat. The rise and fall of his chest. The way the moonlight glinted off his fair hair.

The only thing left for him now in this world.

How often had the elder alchemist watched his son sleep like this? How often had he wanted to-

It's better not to think of it.

Hohenheim moved slowly to sit on the bed. He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from the boy's forehead. Skin so soft and warm. How long had it been since he'd-

Don't think of this.

The teen stirred in his sleep, moving as if toward the fleeting touch, murmuring softly. Hohenheim leaned in to ghost gentle lips against a soft cheek. He could still sense the lingering trace of the boy's fragrant shampoo. He sighed, warm breath against a delicate neck causing the boy to stir. He pulled away, looking down into golden eyes at half mast.

Please don't think of it.
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June 2007



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