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Sierra • I pretend to write • A healthy dose of CM, OBX, SPN, Merlin, Lucifer, HS, YR, RWRB, ST, HR, and HP

[sierraraeck]

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Harry Potter (Drarry) - The Injury of Loving You

Complete!

Stranger Things Masterlist

It’s Always Been You completed!

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[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You Masterlist

Series Link

The Stomach Pang

The Black Eye

The Itch

The Squeezed Lung

The Dry Mouth

The Shredded Skin

The Dead Eyes

The Inexplicably Worst Pain To Ever Exist Ever

The Heartache

The Deepest Breath

The Constricting Throat

The Twisting Intestines

The Never Ending Headache

The Boiling Blood

The Warm Hands And The Cold Feet

The Sigh Of Relief

[sierraraeck]

Complete!

[perlukafarinn]

One of the rookies on the Centaurs asking the guys on the team for advice on this girl he's been trying to date. He can't tell if she likes him and is just nervous about taking it to the next level, or if she's trying to let him down easy and he hasn't been able to pick up on it.

He doesn't get much useful advice and soon the guys are arguing about how long you can pursue someone before it starts getting pathetic. Holmberg is at one end of the spectrum at two weeks ("We're rich professional athletes, man, we shouldn't have to try that hard.") and Wyatt Hayes is on the other at three months ("Maybe she likes you but just doesn't want the WAG lifestyle. You need to prove to her that you see her as a person with her own goals separate from yours.")

Then someone notices that Ilya, despite his wealth of experience, hasn't chimed in yet and asks, "What do you think, Cap?"

"Two years."

The entire room goes still.

"What?"

"Two years," Ilya repeats, completely unashamed. "Is not pathetic to go for what you want. Not if you think they're worth it."

In sync, every person in the room turns to look at Shane, who's pretending to fiddle with the laces on his skates, looking pink-faced and vaguely pleased.

Finally, Holmberg turns to the rookie. "Okay, I guess two years is fine if it's Shane Hollander. Is your girl Shane Hollander?"

The poor rookie has no response to that. His girl is, indeed, not literally Shane Hollander.

"Man, gay people move different," LaPointe mutters.

"This is not a gay thing," Troy objects. "This is a Rozanov and Hollander thing."

[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Sigh of Relief

Draco called for his broom, waiting a handful of seconds before it rapidly appeared in front of him. He grabbed a hold of it, and flew high enough that the city below turned into a maze of twinkling lights. He turned around and laid back on his broom, hands clasped behind his head, legs crossed. The moonlight sharpened his features, the stars shining brighter from up there, the summer breeze still a bit warm. Draco smiled to himself.

He wasn’t startled when the air shifted. He’d know Harry’s presence anywhere.

Draco turned his head and saw Harry making himself comfortable, lying back on his broom next to him. Draco reached his hand out across the small distance, and Harry laced their fingers together.

They enjoyed the silence staring up at the night sky. After a few moments, Harry brought the back of Draco’s hand to his lips. “I love you too.” Draco smiled over at him. He couldn’t remember the last time his heart was this full, the last time he felt completely at peace. “I mean it.”

Draco squeezed his hand. “I mean it, too.”

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[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Warm Hands and The Cold Feet

Draco waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He could see the mixture of concern, exhaustion, relief, and contentment on Harry’s face. He looked away, back toward the fire, and worried his lip between his teeth. He had just pulled himself together, but there was always something about Harry’s presence that cracked something open in him, made him want to spill every secret of his life. And there was always something about the softness of his features when he could see straight through Draco, straight through to the pain, that made Draco want to collapse in his arms.

“Come here,” Harry said. He leaned forward and pulled Draco to him, slotting him perfectly to his body, knees pressed to the outside of Draco’s knees, chest firmly at Draco’s back. His arms wrapped snuggly around Draco’s middle.

Draco dropped his head back on to Harry’s shoulder. He whispered, “This is supposed to be Christmas Eve.”

It was hard to miss the guilt in Draco’s voice, the implication that Harry should be elsewhere having a more cheerful night. Harry absently ran his fingers up and down Draco’s arms. “I’m right where I want to be.”

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[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Boiling Blood

Draco raked his eyes down him, wetting his lips as he took in his lean, defined figure, shadows outlining his strong shoulders, pecs, and waist. He took in the slightly darkened, discolored skin circling his neck, the outline of what looked like a necklace. Draco reached out, brushing his fingers over the shapes. Harry reached a hand up, covering one of Draco’s, resting on his chest. Draco looked up at him. “I don’t think I knew about this one.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Slytherin’s locket. Horcrux. It’s a long story.”

The scarred skin of Harry’s hand covering Draco’s own was not lost on him, either. Draco laced his fingers through it and kissed along the back of his hand. “I’ll have to hear about it sometime.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “Some other time.”

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[ira-dunfort]

@drarrymicrofic | prompt: wet | wordcount: 1820

Harry's head was still spinning, and his lungs strained to get enough oxygen into his blood.

His mouth was dry, his lips a bit chapped from breathing through them for the past—he looked at the clock on the wall, squinted at it, trying to guess without his glasses—an hour? Two? He barely had enough strength to turn his head back and keep staring at the ceiling.

"You're dehydrated. Come on, drink."

Fingers slipped into his matted black hair and lifted his head just enough so Harry could down a full glass of water. He gasped for more air afterwards, let his eyes fall shut, and his head fall back onto the mattress.

The mattress was wet. The sheets, too, were wet. Harry moved his arm sluggishly and felt for the fabric. Sodden, everywhere, rumpled, and one corner had come undone. Merlin, Harry had come undone. A single little giggle escaped his roughened throat. It made the muscles in his abdomen tighten, which led to—oh, fuck, he was leaking come, adding more to the mess. It shouldn't feel so hot. How could it feel so hot? It had been nothing like this with Ginny. Never.

Harry moaned, clenched his hole to keep it inside, then huffed another breathless, blissed-out laugh.

The bed beside him dipped. A warm washcloth touched his come-stained middle. Twice. He had come all over himself twice. After coming down Draco's demanding throat.

"You're not losing your mind, are you?" Draco asked, cleaning him without magic, taking his time. "Not that anyone would be able to tell the difference if that head of yours had finally emptied itself entirely."

"You could," Harry said, then swallowed. Draco's words were mean, as always, but his touches with the warm, soft washcloth were so tender. It smelled like lavender. Soothing.

"Ah, that would be because I'm the only one paying actual attention to you." Draco lifted one of Harry's limp legs off the bed and wiped him down from taint to rim, humming with pleasure when he saw Harry's puffed, used entrance twitch from it.

"Is that why it felt like this?"

"Elaborate," Draco prompted, repeating his gentle ministrations on the other side.

Harry sighed, blinked his eyes back open, and watched the patches of light scattered through the tree in front of the bedroom window dance. "I don't know how to describe it."

"With generous praise, obviously," Draco drawled expectantly.

"Vain prat," Harry laughed, because he felt high from what had happened and couldn't even begin to get mad.

"Try again," Draco instructed him, rinsed the cloth, then bent over Harry to wipe his sweaty face.

Harry locked eyes with him and lost himself for a moment in the silver, the tiny creases proving Draco was smiling earnestly. At Harry. Cleaning him. After he had kissed Harry until his knees had given out, his mind reeling, his hands clinging. Draco had got them upstairs, into bed, naked. He had talked Harry through it, step by step, explaining what he was about to do to him, knowing Harry had no experience with men, only wet dreams.

"I—" Harry started, then stopped, unsure how to put into words what was a tangled heap of confusing feelings sticking to an epiphany or two, wrapped in regret for taking so long. The timing was all wrong. "I think," he started again.

"Can you?" Draco grinned at him, set the cloth aside, and lay down next to Harry, head propped on one hand, starkers and beautiful, and Harry lost his train of thought again.

"No." Harry looked away from him, then tried a third time. "It was so good."

"I know."

"Shut up." Harry attempted to smack him, but his arms were still all gooey. "You were probably showing off anyway."

"Quite the contrary. I was holding back," Draco told him, one hand stroking up Harry's stomach, up through his chest hair, caressing him.

"You were?" Harry whimpered.

"You already seemed quite overwhelmed," Draco said, low and smug, but also fond. "I have to admit, I like the look on you."

Harry took a deep breath—Merlin, even all the muscles around his ribs ached—then grabbed for words swimming in his head and exhaled. Maybe he had the right ones now. "I didn't think it could feel this way."

"You really ought to elaborate," Draco replied.

"Fine. Er." Harry twitched when Draco traced a nipple with one finger. "Stop that. It's distracting."

"To the weak of mind."

"You made me weak, you git." Harry lazily slapped at Draco's hand and let his tired forearm rest on his chest after missing him.

"Hm, yes." Draco smiled at him. Harry couldn't breathe again.

"I didn't know," Harry scrambled to gain linguistic ground, "that this was real?" He sounded unsure, and Draco's frown told him to elaborate. "I thought this, this, I dunno. This feeling like melting inside, forgetting your own name, the whole thing about seeing stars and your mind going blank was all bodice ripper rubbish."

"You finally learnt to read, and that's what you chose?"

"Draco," Harry groaned. "What does sex feel like to you?"

Draco raised his brows and blinked several times.

"Do you always enjoy it?"

"That's the whole point of carnal pleasures, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Harry," he said, using his given name for the first time that day. He used it sparingly, to get Harry's full attention. It worked, always, like a charm. "What is sex like for you?"

"Er." Now it was Harry's turn to blink. Thinking was still hard. "A more intimate way to take the edge off than wanking?"

"The edge off?" Draco repeated slowly.

"Yeah." Harry nodded sheepishly. "You can't pretend you don't feel that too. Bit like pressure, and then you need to get it out or you start biting at the furniture."

"You animal." Draco snorted and pinched him.

"My edge is now so far off I can't even tell where it is. Over the horizon, maybe, or in a different dimension. I feel all floaty and buzzing, and—" His words dissolved when Draco began to shake his head with a broad smile. "Er, I... Like this. Chest all full, and like I can't move and I don't want to move, and I feel, I feel—how do I feel?"

Harry was getting emotional, and it got worse the longer he looked into Draco's eyes. Or it got better. He couldn't tell. He needed someone to tell him.

Draco didn't say anything, only held his gaze, his hand wandering over Harry's body without cease, his fingertips causing goosebumps with their tenderness.

"How do I feel?" Harry asked, and suddenly his eyes were stinging, welling up with tears. "I've never felt—this—all of this," he admitted, still unable to label what this was, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"Harry," Draco said again, his hand sliding up the column of Harry's throat as he swallowed a growing knot in it, then further up, cupping his cheek. "Have you never had sex with someone you were in love with before?"

Something in Harry shattered, fell entirely apart, and he couldn't even see Draco's pretty face anymore. He was crying too hard. Merlin, fuck, he was such a mess. He was ruining it. Draco would wrinkle his nose and push him away and be done with this and leave and—

"Shh, darling," Harry heard him say, and a thumb stroked his cheekbone. "How can you not know what love feels like?"

Harry only shook his head and turned onto his side, pulling his legs up. Draco kissed his forehead, his wet cheeks, his trembling shoulders, stroked his back.

"You have to admit, it is a little silly, considering the way you've always looked at me," Draco told him quietly, pulling him closer. "I rather thought you knew you were in love with me."

"I'm an idiot," Harry wept.

"You are, yes, but it seems you only needed a little educational experience."

Nothing about this was little. His entire world had shifted a step to the left, and Harry was stumbling to keep up.

"You can be mine, if you want," Draco whispered. "Do you want that?"

Harry nodded, never having been more sure of anything, even if he couldn't put it into words himself. He wanted Draco. Always.

He had spent years pretending the little jump in his stomach whenever Draco entered his office was irritation. Then came the chats in the Ministry cafeteria. The glances in the lift that made him blush. He learnt which days Draco worked late because those were the evenings Harry somehow found reasons to linger.

Then there were the stolen kisses in dark pub corridors when Harry got separated from his pack of Gryffindor friends on the way to the loo—kisses Harry never drew away from, blaming the beer each time and never once his heart.

Draco had always been there too.

"Do you want to feel this again? Letting go of all your worries, giving in to pleasure? Knowing you'll be properly cared for?" Draco continued, pulling Harry flush against him, his hand halting its wandering so he could hold him tightly around the waist.

Harry nodded again, wheezed a yes between sobs.

"I can love you the way you deserve," Draco said, nuzzling into Harry's hair. "You deserve so much better. I'll be that. I can do it." He inhaled deeply. "I love you more than anyone else."

Harry believed it, saw it now. It had been in every touch, in the way Draco had reverently kissed every inch of his body. In his unguarded face. In every breathless word murmured against Harry's skin as he pushed inside: so good, so perfect for me, made for me.

"Be mine," Draco said. "Let me take you to restaurants worth dressing for, show you off, holding my hand, only mine, you gorgeous, sweet man." His voice was growing more possessive, and, inexplicably, it was what Harry needed for the tears to ebb.

Harry could see it: them, side by side, walking tall, all eyes on them, bearing the scandal of it with their heads held high. "I'm not a trophy," Harry said with a sniff.

Draco pulled back so he could look Harry in the eyes. "Say the word and you never have to come home wishing you were somewhere else. I'll make sure you never mistake being wanted for being loved again."

Harry looked at him and nervously bit his lip as his heart jumped into his throat, since his chest lacked the space to keep it. He thought about how Draco had been brave enough to hold his gaze like this for years.

And Harry had been blind, so unfathomably blind.

"Yours," Harry replied.

With a deafening crack, Draco Apparated them out of the bedroom, leaving the ring he had pulled from Harry's finger while cleaning him behind, wrapped in the wet cloth on Ginny's nightstand.

[virtuallola]

Omg, read this, everyone. I beg you, you couldn't possibly regret it.

[escuerzoresucitado]

being escorted out of town

[hrsocials]

(scurries away)

.one hundred and nineteen. obviously there's no covid in HR but would not shock me if dallas kent was generally anti-vax.

[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Never Ending Headache

Harry finished the spells, releasing Draco from the chains. His arms swung lifelessly down and his body had no strength left to prevent the weight from carrying him all the way to the ground. Harry dropped his wand and caught Draco, hands around his back, Draco’s hands coming to rest on Harry’s shoulders. Draco couldn’t feel a thing, or at least wished he couldn’t, and didn’t protest as Harry slowly helped the two of them to their knees. Draco dropped his head onto Harry’s shoulder and breathed in the smell of apple and rainwater hidden beneath sweat and stress and wanted to cry. Harry’s touch was delicate, but he wrapped his arms even further around Draco, fingers wide and trying to hold as much of him as possible. He whispered, “It’s me, you’re okay now, you’re going to be okay, I’m here.”

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[penandinkprincess]

unreasonably amused by the idea of itty bitty shane not wanting to get off the ice after practice to the point that david gets ON the ice to get him, so itty bitty does the "my bones are gone now" resistance move kids are so good at.

but fails to consider that ice is. so slippery.

like stage your protest all you want, buddy, but you have literally never been more move-able.

[ilya-sweetheart]

SHANE HOLLANDER AS DUCKS

“did you eat the last of my frozen dark-chocolate covered raspberries rozanov?😡”

“wanna go to costco today with me? 🙂”

“hey, sorry for waking you up again but i had another idea”

[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Twisting Intestines

Draco carefully approached Potter and said, “Potter.” His voice came out a bit wonky, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Potter. Wake up, it’s not real. Potter.” Draco put his hand on his shoulder, and then got confused from there. He had just been hovering over him and within an instant, Draco had been grabbed, flipped over onto the couch, the back of his head hitting the arm, and Potter was now above him, holding him with one hand by the collar of his shirt and had his wand drawn and pointing down at Draco with the other. The look in his eyes was fiery and terrified, and yet unfamiliar to Draco. Potter’s whole body was tense.

Draco had both hands up by his face in a surrender, startled. “Potter,” he said, breathlessly.

It took him another second or two, especially in the dark, but his face changed when he recognized him. His muscles started to relax and he lowered his wand. When he exhaled, he did it with such force that his whole body seemed to sag with the breath and he dropped his forehead onto Draco’s chest. Draco could feel the way he was trembling, Harry’s fingers pressing into his shoulders to try and steady himself.

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[gaynehollander]

One practice, not too long after Shane joins the Centaurs, he's limping and, honestly, it's affecting his skating. In between scrimmages and drills, he keeps straightening up and wincing a little, gloved hand resting on his lower back. There's no way it passes anyone by but it isn't until they're back in the locker room that someone comments on it. "Rough night last night?" Bood asks and no sooner are the words out of his mouth than Ilya has smacked the back of his head and told him to shut the fuck up. Shane's flushing but glares at him before saying, "I slipped in the goddamn shower, okay?" None of the Cens quite believe him but once he shucks his clothes it's obvious that there's a huge fresh bruise on Shane's lower back, leading up his spine. Bood hisses just at the sight of it. "Shit, man" he says, "I'm sorry." Shane mumbles something that sounds like, "don't worry about it," but his cheeks are still burning red because, yes, technically a slip in the shower is exactly what occurred but Ilya was the one who slipped. While holding Shane up against the wall. And now they have a fucking plumber coming around because not only did Shane crash into the tiles and bang his tailbone, he somehow managed to grab the shower head on his way down and tore it clean off, bursting the pipe.

[ilyapasta]

Pondering the non-sexual intimacies of their sexual encounters during the hook-up years. Ilya gets a charlie horse type cramp in the back of his thigh while fucking Shane and being like "ugh gimme a second, fuck" and Shane being like "I can help" because he loves bodies and physicality and knows how to deal with physical issues that impede performance and Ilya is like "Is just a cramp Hollander" but Shane still helps him straighten his leg and stretch out his hamstrings and it's like this moment of accidental intimacy because Ilya is on his back with a leg in the air, balanced on Shane's shoulder while Shane grips him with those big hands—one behind his knee and the other behind his calf, pushing Ilya's leg towards his body. And Ilya moans because it hurts, and feels great, and their cocks are still out and Shane looks so good, and also Shane is so endearing with his concentrating face, Ilya can't help but be like "Thank you Dr. Hollander" and Shane is like "Shut the fuck up, that's last time I help you" and Ilya is like "What else can Dr. Hollander do?" and then Shane climbs on top and rides him until Ilya is all out of chirps.

[animentality]

[sierraraeck]

The Injury of Loving You: The Constricting Throat

Granger couldn’t contain her smile any longer. “Oh my god, so it has been a couple of years.”

“No, Granger-”

“What, that would be like fifth year?” she asked, though more to herself than anything. “That is when you picked that fight with Harry and Ginny in the pub, which would make sense if you were jealous-”

“I was not,” Draco cut her off.

“You totally were! So fifth year?” She looked closely at his face. Draco wasn’t sure what she saw in his face, but she smiled again, shock in her voice as she leaned in. “It was earlier than that? Fourth year?”

“I am not having this conversation with you.”

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