Locked to Luna

[ferretface_git]

Christmas. The season of love and giving and peace and good will and blah blah blah...

He'd been... melancholy lately, to say the least. Even for him. It wasn't Christmas that had brightened his spirits, and certainly not her, he told himself, and it didn't come from any sort of self-awareness... some revelation that he needed to pull himself out of the dumps if he ever wanted to have anything resembling a life again. No, it happened gradually. He thought less and less of what he'd lost, until one morning he woke up and didn't immediately want to throw himself off a cliff.

Still, stopping off in his room to grab his favorite hat before he went traipsing out into the snow and finding the brood of magazine cut-outs of Potter's face staring up at him from his pillow, jolly and glittery and smiling awkwardly in a row, he heaved out a sigh. Gritting his teeth and snatching them up, he calmly carried them into the rec room, where he knew there was a fire.

He'd been annoyed there, for a moment, but tossing the little faces into the flames helped to lighten his mood even more. Maybe he ought to thank her...

Not likely.

Comments

[dreamily-luna.livejournal.com]

It's surprising, to be watched so openly, and without the usual assortment of defenses. It jolts Luna from her own defenses too-- if he's an ass to hide his insecurities, she can be equally accused of having her head in the clouds for the same reason.

She's entirely present, though, as she peels off her long socks. When she's finished, she holds her hand out to him, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

It wasn't out of any real effort, but over time, he'd learned that the better he made it for her, the better she made it for him. It was the type of lesson most learn when they're still children. More flies with honey, that sort of thing.

He was and always would be a late bloomer when social skills were involved.

When she held out her hand to him he didn't take it, but he crawled closer, slipping a hand between her knees and nudging them apart.

If he saw the look in her eyes, he pretended not to notice.

[dreamily-luna.livejournal.com]

Predictable, maybe, but Luna's grateful for it in her own way, letting her thighs fall open easily for him. She wonders if she could ever get him to be comfortable enough to try any of the things she's read about in books-- and oh, has she.

Her breath hitches, in anticipation.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

His eyes flicker up to her face, startled to hear that tiny gasp of breath, as if he'd forgotten she was even there. He hadn't, of course, and the sound was enough to shake him out of whatever worries were currently replaying in his head.

He didn't kiss her like he worshiped her. He didn't touch every inch of her body. He had a hard time even bringing himself to spend any time on her, but he wasn't completely capable of learning. Step by tiny step, he was becoming less of a clumsy-handed bastard in bed. It was, even without much exaggeration, a miracle.

Still, it was a bit of a surprise, even to him, when he ducked his head and pressed his lips to her belly, just below the navel where her skin was softest.

[dreamily-luna.livejournal.com]

It's a surprise to her too, though a welcome surprise.

To be honest, his ability to surprise her is one of Luna's favorite things about Draco. She lets out another small sigh, eyes drifting shut for a moment. If he weren't so uptight, she would have so many questions for him, about what he likes and how things feel for him and-- well, a great many things.

Instead, she deliberately brushes her knee up his thigh.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

He kissed his way up, tracing a line from her navel to her breastbone, basking in the strange, smug sort of satisfaction he felt. He could do this, there was no one left to tell him it was wrong, no legacy left to live up to.

Before, he'd been able to embrace the wrongness of it, but now, it didn't feel so much like a crime anymore.

Taking a detour, he flicked his tongue out over one nipple, almost as if he were testing the waters. Ah, yes. I can do that without being struck down where I stand.