Title: Harry Dreams
Pairing: HP/Dream Lover (ETA: Although I wrote this with Snape in mind)
Length: 411 words
Disclaimer: Still not mine
Harry dreams of him at night. He dreams of his hands, touching him, coaxing him, loving him. Every night Harry is jolted from his sleep, knowing that those hands will never touch him in his waking reality. For how can they? Harry knows that he is gone, forever gone… running, running, running from his monstrous acts… and that there will be no forgiveness in the end… when he is caught and swift vengeance is meted out.
But still, Harry dreams. And the dreams are real, so real. Harry feels those long, slender, delicate fingers ghosting over his body, gently stroking his neck, his chest, his nipples. Then ghostly lips replace those fingers, suckling, searching, and Harry arches off the bed, caught in the sensation of his lover’s touches. The fingers continue to move ever downward, sure in their meandering path, until they reach Harry’s desperate hardness. The lips move up, and soon Harry is kissing him… kissing, kissing… as the hand continues its inexorable stroking.
Harry grabs his lover’s hair, fingers fisting through the straight locks. He deepens the kiss… and Harry is groaning, groaning with his desperate need. Soon the fingers move downward, stroking, probing, penetrating, preparing.
Harry dreams of the moment… the moment… when he takes him, and enters him with one strong push, and claims him. Harry cries out, knowing that he will forever belong to the one inside him, the one who now owns his heart, the one he can never be with. And this bittersweet agony is too much, and the loneliness is too much, and the pleasure is too much. Harry comes and comes, crying out his desolate, painful ecstasy, and that cry is answered by his lover’s own cry of completion.
More desperate kisses follow, and Harry whispers, “I understand now. I do.” For he does. Harry knows now why he did what he did, and understands the pressures, the promises, the feelings of being trapped. He also understands the repercussions, that there is no happy ending for the man in his arms. “I would save you… if I could…”
A small, sad smile graces his lover’s face. “No one can save me now,” comes the whispered reply. “But remember. Remember me. Remember us.”
Harry pulls him close, as close as he can, kissing everywhere he can reach, hugging, holding on. “I will,” Harry promises, wishing he could make the moment last forever.
Harry dreams of him at night. But he wakes up alone.
Thanks to arrmaitee and son_of_darkness for their thoughts.
This is my first attempt at writing anything that remotely resembles smut. Hope it doesn't suck.