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H/D LDWS drabbles
Just finally getting around to reposting my H/D LDWS drabbles of fail.
Title: Requiem for a Shrivelfig
Author: nicevenn
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 297
A Shrivelfig's life is a life of woe. From the moment I came into existence, I knew my inescapable fate: to be skinned, and then have my juice squeezed out over a bubbling cauldron. The best ending I could look forward to was a quick, clean demise. It was a realistic hope – until I landed in the hands of two sexually repressed adolescents.
"You're doing it wrong!'" said the blond boy again, after I'd been nicked, scraped and snatched back and forth too many times to count.
"And what makes you the expert, Malfoy? You've never even skinned a Shrivelfig before. I did it for you." Hot fingers closed around me, and I changed hands yet again. The bespectacled boy raised me high up in the air in his sweaty palm, out of the other's reach.
"Potter, give it to me!"
"No."
The knife's edge caught a mutilated piece of my skin. Malfoy launched himself at Potter, and the latter tightened his hold on me.
"Geroff me!" Potter's breath was heavy from his exertions. He was squeezing me so tightly my insides were ready to burst. I saw visions of my juice oozing out from between his fingers.
Next thing I knew, Malfoy grabbed Potter by the front of his robes and smashed their mouths together. It seemed I had been spared a most unglamourous fate.
"I hate you," Malfoy said against Potter’s lips.
Potter growled and let go of me in favour of clawing at the other boy's back. I hit the floor and rolled down the aisle. As a shoe-shaped shadow descended upon me, I couldn't help but envy the Shrivelfigs that had ended up as ingredients in today's sunny yellow potion, but I found consolation in the knowledge that I'd induced euphoria just the same.
Title: Therapy
Author: nicevenn
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, oral
Word Count: 299
Harry's trousers are open, Malfoy's mouth tight around his cock. White-blond hair tickles his fingers like fine silk as he escapes into wetness and heat. His thrusts are deep, the pace punishing. But Malfoy doesn't complain; he digs his nails into Harry's thighs and lets him take what he needs.
Malfoy is the one person with whom Harry can let himself go. There are no unspoken barriers between them, no expectations of gentleness and respect based on an Auror badge and hero's epithets. Malfoy lets Harry use his body to relieve the anger and grief consuming his soul.
Slowly, Harry is purged of the darkness inside him. It leaves his body in ropes of come that land on Malfoy's face, in his hair, or on his chest―anywhere Harry can see it. He doesn't need to stay or worry about the mess; Malfoy never asks for anything.
*****
Draco is on his knees, Potter's cock hard and thick against his tongue. The pull on his hair makes him whimper and surrender control. Each brutal thrust pushes Draco closer to the edge, his own hand helping him along. This is sweet atonement for his past wrongs; he won't forgive himself until Potter's darkness is a distant memory.
Potter is the only one who knows just how to punish him. His fingers, teeth, and cock are instruments of torture: twisting, nipping, and pounding until Draco doesn't know whether to say stop or more. He shows Draco no consideration, but he never goes too far.
Little by little, Draco is regaining his worth. It returns to him when Potter's spunk is hot on his skin and the humiliation burns. He never asks Potter to stay or clean up his mess; for the first time ever, he's placing another's needs above his own.
Title: Requiem for a Shrivelfig
Author: nicevenn
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 297
A Shrivelfig's life is a life of woe. From the moment I came into existence, I knew my inescapable fate: to be skinned, and then have my juice squeezed out over a bubbling cauldron. The best ending I could look forward to was a quick, clean demise. It was a realistic hope – until I landed in the hands of two sexually repressed adolescents.
"You're doing it wrong!'" said the blond boy again, after I'd been nicked, scraped and snatched back and forth too many times to count.
"And what makes you the expert, Malfoy? You've never even skinned a Shrivelfig before. I did it for you." Hot fingers closed around me, and I changed hands yet again. The bespectacled boy raised me high up in the air in his sweaty palm, out of the other's reach.
"Potter, give it to me!"
"No."
The knife's edge caught a mutilated piece of my skin. Malfoy launched himself at Potter, and the latter tightened his hold on me.
"Geroff me!" Potter's breath was heavy from his exertions. He was squeezing me so tightly my insides were ready to burst. I saw visions of my juice oozing out from between his fingers.
Next thing I knew, Malfoy grabbed Potter by the front of his robes and smashed their mouths together. It seemed I had been spared a most unglamourous fate.
"I hate you," Malfoy said against Potter’s lips.
Potter growled and let go of me in favour of clawing at the other boy's back. I hit the floor and rolled down the aisle. As a shoe-shaped shadow descended upon me, I couldn't help but envy the Shrivelfigs that had ended up as ingredients in today's sunny yellow potion, but I found consolation in the knowledge that I'd induced euphoria just the same.
Title: Therapy
Author: nicevenn
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: angst, oral
Word Count: 299
Harry's trousers are open, Malfoy's mouth tight around his cock. White-blond hair tickles his fingers like fine silk as he escapes into wetness and heat. His thrusts are deep, the pace punishing. But Malfoy doesn't complain; he digs his nails into Harry's thighs and lets him take what he needs.
Malfoy is the one person with whom Harry can let himself go. There are no unspoken barriers between them, no expectations of gentleness and respect based on an Auror badge and hero's epithets. Malfoy lets Harry use his body to relieve the anger and grief consuming his soul.
Slowly, Harry is purged of the darkness inside him. It leaves his body in ropes of come that land on Malfoy's face, in his hair, or on his chest―anywhere Harry can see it. He doesn't need to stay or worry about the mess; Malfoy never asks for anything.
*****
Draco is on his knees, Potter's cock hard and thick against his tongue. The pull on his hair makes him whimper and surrender control. Each brutal thrust pushes Draco closer to the edge, his own hand helping him along. This is sweet atonement for his past wrongs; he won't forgive himself until Potter's darkness is a distant memory.
Potter is the only one who knows just how to punish him. His fingers, teeth, and cock are instruments of torture: twisting, nipping, and pounding until Draco doesn't know whether to say stop or more. He shows Draco no consideration, but he never goes too far.
Little by little, Draco is regaining his worth. It returns to him when Potter's spunk is hot on his skin and the humiliation burns. He never asks Potter to stay or clean up his mess; for the first time ever, he's placing another's needs above his own.