Harry let his head fall back against the pillow, breathing tight with the effort not to interrupt Draco’s caresses. He had all but choked a sound when Draco’s lips left his, the leisurely pace Draco took pushing Harry to the point of desperation. It made Harry’s grip tighten around Draco’s hips, his thumbs digging into the line where hip met thigh, Draco’s weight on him another point of obsession.<br/>Harry shut his eyes, the blur of the ceiling making the room spin in an entirely more unpleasant way than Draco’s trailing kisses. It only seemed to amplify the sensation, Draco’s lips warm against his skin and the wisps of hair escaping the charm drawing fine lines across Harry’s skin.<br/>“You’re so beautiful,” Harry breathed, the sentiment escaping him blind. He saw no mental image of Draco, no suppressed fantasy only visible through his inner eye that pulled it out of Harry; it left his lips just as easily as an exhale, something he had been aware of for weeks. “Fuck, Draco, please -”