Bluebutter Art for Bixgirl1's 'Touch'
“It’s fine that it feels strange, Potter. It's that way for a lot of people,” Malfoy told him softly, after a moment. “It’s not as if it's something you'd considered before...”
Harry breathed a laugh. Malfoy still smelled of that comforting smoky blend of apples and spice, and Harry wanted to roll over and inhale him. “That one day I’d be paying you to hug me? Not in a million years. You?”
Malfoy went quiet for a minute. His hand idly stroked Harry’s stomach, and Harry shifted, trying not to notice—or not to let his body notice, at least. It wasn’t working.
“No,” Malfoy said at last. “I never thought you’d be paying me to hug you. Even recently, it’s not something I ever would have imagined.”
Harry twisted around, caught by something in Malfoy’s tone. Malfoy didn’t lift his head from the pillow; his eyes were closed, and though he must’ve sensed Harry’s movement, his stare, he didn’t open them to acknowledge it. Harry resettled, brow knit.
“You said—this morning you said you Glamour for clients,” Harry murmured. Malfoy’s hand came up and pressed, flat, against Harry’s chest, between his nipples. He could undoubtedly feel the thud of Harry’s heart getting faster, but Harry refused to move again, refused to let himself feel embarrassed just because Malfoy’s legs were tucked into his and he was pressing Harry closer against his chest. He was so bloody tired of feeling embarrassed about what people were thinking. “Why not for me? …Or is that too personal?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the challenge.
“I didn’t think it was fair,” Malfoy admitted. “I don’t have a—a history with any of my other clients. I don't know any of them personally. If they found out about me… At the most it would be unpleasant, and I’d lose a job. With you—”
Vaguely offended, Harry started to turn again, but Malfoy kept his hand where it was, holding him in place. “You thought I’d what? Get you in trouble?”
He felt a shrug. “No. It just seemed unfair,” he repeated. Then, in an obvious bid to change the subject, “Would you like a shoulder rub, like last night?”
“No,” Harry said, though it sounded rather lovely. But his eyes were heavy, and the unhurried way Malfoy was moving his hand from his chest to his stomach—up and down—was doing more to wake him up than it was to relax him. “I think I’ll go to sleep.”
“You should,” Malfoy said, encouragingly, those posh, clipped tones going low and almost melodic. Harry jerked a little when he felt Malfoy’s hand move to give his waist a little squeeze, as if he approved. He left it there, open, fingers splayed, the heat of them bleeding through the thin cotton of Harry's shirt. “These are good sheets,” he complimented. His breath puffed, warm, over the back of Harry’s neck.
I commissioned this beautiful art by @bluebutter-art for @bixgirl1's wonderful story, Touch. Bix, I just wanted you to have something beautiful and nice today, and who better than Blue to illustrate the exquisite tenderness, the UST, the fragile intimacy of this scene between them that you wrote?
Happy birthday. <3 <3 <3
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
jbbartram-illu
annaxmalina
stormborns
