Draco's question, especially the almost intimate vagueness of his phrasing, made Harry's cheek blush bright red. It wasn't as much out of embarrassment as it was out of sheer surprise, and when he finally spoke, Harry's voice was surprisingly clear, even to his own ears. "No."<br/>The admission was soft but honest, having to come to terms with his own boundaries. He was not for a second in doubt that he wanted Draco, though the prospect of it all was so daunting it made Harry's head spin. "Probably not."<br/>At some point, Harry had glanced down, not fully able to remember if he had looked Draco in the eye when responding. His attention had been caught by the hazy image of his hand against Draco's skin inches below water.<br/>His lips parting, Harry's hand moved, fingers dipping beneath Draco's waistband, regardless of his spoken answer. His movements bold, while the touch itself remained ginger, Harry's hand trailed the length of Draco's waistband, before settling between them, fingers aligning with the curve of Draco's pelvis.<br/>"Can I?" Harry glanced back up at Draco, fingers unmoving as he searched for an answer. There was still an unmistakable blush across his cheeks, yet Harry seemed far from uncomfortable. "Would that be okay?"