yiling matriarch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marginalia) wrote2004-07-27 04:44 pm
marginalia) wrote2004-07-27 04:44 pm
double drabble: diamonds on the beds of his thumbnails
[diamonds on the beds of his thumbnails] - harry/elijah for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ezzvaldez
this is officially the Latest Fic Ever. double drabble. slightly smutty for a change.
The whole dance floor is twisting and writhing and Elijah thinks that if he rose straight up in the air and peered down through the smoke and the flashing lights, they would be one giant beautiful body, all sleek limbs and sweat and sparkle.
This is a gift Harry could give to him, if only Elijah knew how to ask.
He doesn’t know that, but he does know to ask for other things, questions in the palm of his hand and answers in the way Harry dips his head and then toes out his cigarette.
They work their way off of the floor, slinkster cool. In the washroom, Harry mutters something that sounds like Latin and just might be. Elijah doesn't know, doesn't care, and by the sound of it Harry doesn’t care about much of anything either.
Everything’s undone, Harry has scars everywhere, and when Elijah brushes over them with his fingertips they glow softly, a dusting over marks on his hands, his shoulders, his back. So many marks, so permanent for so young, and then Harry drops to his knees, whisperhissing words, taking Elijah out and in, strong and sure, and when he comes he thinks it’s magic.
ezzvaldezthis is officially the Latest Fic Ever. double drabble. slightly smutty for a change.
The whole dance floor is twisting and writhing and Elijah thinks that if he rose straight up in the air and peered down through the smoke and the flashing lights, they would be one giant beautiful body, all sleek limbs and sweat and sparkle.
This is a gift Harry could give to him, if only Elijah knew how to ask.
He doesn’t know that, but he does know to ask for other things, questions in the palm of his hand and answers in the way Harry dips his head and then toes out his cigarette.
They work their way off of the floor, slinkster cool. In the washroom, Harry mutters something that sounds like Latin and just might be. Elijah doesn't know, doesn't care, and by the sound of it Harry doesn’t care about much of anything either.
Everything’s undone, Harry has scars everywhere, and when Elijah brushes over them with his fingertips they glow softly, a dusting over marks on his hands, his shoulders, his back. So many marks, so permanent for so young, and then Harry drops to his knees, whisperhissing words, taking Elijah out and in, strong and sure, and when he comes he thinks it’s magic.
no subject
(hee. silencing, but elijah wouldn't know that.)
no subject