InsaneJournal

Severus looks down at Potter, sprawled beside him in a tangle of cloth and flesh, asleep. Reaching out, his fingers trail over the scratches and marks, ley lines of his lust picked out in red and purple. He follows them, as if they might lead him somewhere other than skin.

A sigh, soft as a secret, draws his attention up.

Potter is watching him, gaze coming to rest on Severus’ face in tentative flutters, like a bird uncertain of its perch.

It hurts, cages him.

Severus pulls away, fingers brushing Potter’s skin once more, inadvertently.

“Get dressed, and get out.”