Five (A Study Of Senses)
I. Sight
Harry thinks his eyes lie, but maybe that's a spell.
Harry sees, he observes, but he doesn't trust his eyes, because what he sees isn't the same as what he knows deep in his heart.
Harry really doesn't like to think about his heart and Malfoy at the same time because that's just stupid, and Harry's not stupid, but occasionally he does stupid stuff. Occasionally, Harry finds himself in the dark with Malfoy without the benefit of sight, and maybe that's not a bad thing. Harry's not sure what he would discover if he took the time to look hard enough. And yet that doesn't stop him from looking. He's not sure anything could. So Harry watches Malfoy across the Great Hall, and his hands move so little that it's a bit off-putting. Little movements of fork and knife, but nothing but the utmost control otherwise. He doesn't gestures like Hermione and he doesn't wave about like Ron. Everything Malfoy does carries a certain elegance and economy of movement than Harry appreciates more than he can say.
Malfoy never apologises for who he is, what he is.
Harry thinks he'd like to know what that's like. But at least Harry knows other things.
Harry knows how Malfoy's eye shine when Harry's inside him. Harry knows that Malfoy closes his eyes with they kiss. Harry knows Malfoy in ways that words will never describe, and he understands Malfoy's motivations even though he doesn't really try.
Harry sees Malfoy every day, but it's not the same as watching him.
And sometimes, if Harry waits long enough, Malfoy looks back.
II. Sound
Sometimes Malfoy makes sounds.
Harry can tell he doesn't mean too. He knows this because afterwards, Malfoy will touch his mouth as though he's said something amiss, as though the words will swoop down and kill him.
Those are the times that he tries to disguise his actions. He'll bite Harry's shoulder, or kiss him hard. Anything to skip over the moment, and act as though it never happened. Harry doesn't really mind, his ears work perfectly even if his sight isn't always so good, and later on he can replay those soft words at his leisure.
Malfoy's voice is raspy and soft and harsh and cutting all at the same time. And he says things, sometimes they're absolutely awful, and Harry pretends to be offended, but he's not. Not really. Because Harry knows Malfoy says other things.
Once Malfoy called Harry's name, his first name, and then promptly bit down on his bottom lip. There was blood, and Malfoy acted incredibly appalled.
It's hard to be appalled when someone is giving you a blow job, but if it's at all possible Malfoy will do it, and so he did. Afterwards, Harry kissed Malfoy. Glasses in his pocket, and hands tangled in unseen hair, Harry kissed Malfoy with everything he had. Malfoy tasted of treacle and copper and restraint. His tongue flickered in Harry's mouth like a candle about to go out, and he did everything in his power to resist the kiss. And yet he didn't push Harry away. So Harry plunged forward, and he kissed the only way he knows how: with everything he has, and everything he might want.
And afterwards, Malfoy wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked disgusted, but he had called Harry's name.
And Harry will always remember that, no matter what else Malfoy says.
III. Touch
Malfoy doesn't have long nails.
Harry knows this because they share a workstation in Potions, and Harry watches intently when Malfoy cuts up their herbs and ingredients. Malfoy has long, thin fingers with perfectly shaped, half-moon nails that never go past the tips of his fingers.
Harry remembers this intently when Malfoy leaves long scratches on his back.
Harry is always marked.
Fingers and nails are all fine and well, but Harry likes it best when Malfoy touches him with his tongue. Licks along the veins in Harry's forearm, and across and down his torso. Wet lines above his groin, and tracing the small of his back. Sometimes there are even teeth marks on the inside of Harry's thighs and suck marks on his ribs.
Long, dotted lines that divide Harry into areas for Malfoy to conquer.
Sometimes Harry wants to tell Malfoy that he doesn't have to break Harry into sections, that it's okay to take him whole, but Malfoy always silences him before he can say anything. So Harry goes back to being quiet for as long as he can, until he's on top and Malfoy is wrapped around. Arms, legs and hands, holding Harry as close as possible so that Malfoy can keep him divided.
And at night, when he's alone and safely hidden from Gryffindor prying eyes, Harry will go over the lines with the tips of his fingers. They burn and itch, and sometimes they're too deep. Some of the cuts seep for hours afterwards, but that's okay. Harry knows he'll never tell Malfoy to stop because a little pain can go a long way, and at least Harry knows he's alive.
Sometimes he forgets.
But never when they're together.
IV. Smell
The smell of sex permeates Harry's senses every waking hour of the day.
It's not the smell of Malfoy, which is lavender, tea and something that might be talcum powder, or the smell of himself, which Harry can only describe as seventeen year-old boy. The smell of sex is much harsher and cloying, and it sticks to Harry like scent out of a bottle.
Sometimes the smell is stronger, like when they're arguing in class or fighting each other on the Quidditch pitch. Other times it's softer, like when Harry is studying his hexes for a battle that's looming.
But it's always there, lingering in the back of Harry's mind.
Quite obviously it's the strongest when they're together. When Harry's hands are wrapped around Malfoy, pulling out the keening sounds that Malfoy hates to make. Or when Malfoy is wrapped around Harry's back, nipping at Harry's earlobe and slapping wetly against Harry's skin.
But the oddest thing is that after times like those, when the smell is harshest, Harry goes back and puts on his robes, and they never seem to smell of anything at all.
V. Taste
Malfoy gives Harry his first taste of a blood orange, and it's quite possibly the most erotic thing Harry has ever experienced. Not the peeling of the orange, or the way that the juice almost squirts him in the eye, but the sight of Malfoy's fingers working nimbly and quickly. The way the orange almost jumps out of its skin, as though it just wants Malfoy to touch it.
Harry knows that feeling very well.
And when Malfoy hands him the slice, reddish-purple and plump to the touch, Harry has to pause and watch as Malfoy chews. Even that is slightly erotic, and Harry thinks he might keel over when Malfoy licks his lips clean.
His tongue isn't pink anymore, it's red. Red like blood, only far less messy, and for a moment Harry forgets that he has an orange slice of his own. Eventually, after Malfoy stares at him for several long seconds, Harry catches on.
The orange is very juicy and tart, yet sweet at the same time. Harry's drawing horrifying parallels between the orange and Malfoy, and that's probably what that wince on his face is about. Of course that look changes dramatically when Malfoy leans forward and kisses him, and Harry tastes Malfoy instead of the orange.
Not that Harry should be surprised. There's something about Malfoy that always seems to break through to all of Harry's senses no matter what.