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firewhiskeyficTitle: Time to Die Live
Author:lq_traintracks
I am of legal drinking age in my region: Yes!
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Challenge/Prompts used: Sex Ed, Honey
Summary: Draco pulls in a club and lo and behold it’s Potter.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17; first person POV; Draco POV; depressed Draco (he’s not exactly suicidal but he doesn’t really care if he lives); some ableist language; drug use; sex; hopeful ending
Word count: 950
Author's Notes (if any): I wrote a thing! \o/ Thank you FWF! <3
Shock of alarm clock, ten pm, I rub my gritty eyes.
“Time to die,” I say, fling covers off, drag myself into a closet full of clothes, clothes, clothes, the promise of performance—mine and everyone else’s.
Stale coffee, shower, dress to the… well, the sevens at least, if not the nines.
Wallet, keys, take to the pavement. “Taxi!” My hand in the air instead of a wand. Muggle all the way tonight, baby.
Smoke a fag with the window cracked, London a dirty streak against the window. “Cheers,” to the driver when he pulls me up to another pavement, another building, another life.
Snort some coke in the loo, down a drink at the bar, take a surreptitious pill. Join the strobe lights on the floor and dance until I’m smothered in sweat.
One bloke, two blokes, four blokes, seven. I could pull but don’t. Tell them my name is Clive, Bertrand, Fig Newton. Another drink, another song, another dizzy dance. Last guy I took to the loos was a week ago Friday. Looked like the devil but sucked cock like a virgin. No sex education, that one. Too much teeth, came in his pants before I got fully hard.
“You could fuck me?” he’d offered from the ground, and I cupped his cheek. “Couldn’t pay me to, honey.” Pat, pat.
Nobody fit tonight. Nobody worth a lingering gaze. Think I’ll call it a night but then—
He’s alone at the bar looking dour as fuck. Hair a mess but when isn’t it? Glasses: stupid. Arse: hot. Fucking dickhead. I’m lured over by his sheer patheticness.
“Buy you one, Potter?” I ask. No slurring. I’m ace.
He looks at me like he’s not surprised to see me here, gaze down my body, back up, judge-fucking-mental.
“You know, forget it,” I say, turn away.
He takes my elbow, but I shake him off.
“Fuck off, Potter.”
“Fuck you, Malfoy,” he says.
“Yeah? Fine with me, baby.”
His eyes flare. You’ve got to be joking. He’s interested. Hot damn.
“But I don’t fuck without a dance,” I tell him.
He shrugs.
“Time to die,” I say.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I pull him onto the floor.
xX
He’s Potter. This can’t be happening. But he’s got his hands on me, his eyes on me. He never looks anywhere else, in fact.
“You hard up?” I check, and he frowns, almost a pout. I smile. “Come on, Potter. I’m pretty much a sure pull here.”
“Are you? Why?”
Poor puzzled dolt.
“Because this,” I say and then grab his half-hard cock inside his jeans, massage it a little.
He closes his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s.”
xX
We’re in the alley, and his cock is in my mouth, and I hate how good he tastes.
I’m no longer high, just a bit of a buzz, but I’m gone on him, utterly and completely.
“God, you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” I lift my swollen mouth to say.
“Gonna fuck you,” he agrees, eyes dark, then he pulls me up, spins me round, and gets me against the wall.
He starts kissing my neck, and I pull my trousers down so his fingers can find my hole and stroke it. “Yeah? You like that?”
His answer is to fumble around and then push himself inside.
But there’s no fumbling after that. There’s only bloody banging ecstasy, like no fuck I’ve ever had. He bends me over, slaps my arse. I can’t even do my thing, my dirty talk thing. He fucks it all out of me.
Once we’ve come, and I’m no longer soaring but floating, I offer him a cigarette. He shakes his head no.
We lean against the brick wall, trousers up but breathing a little hard.
“What did you mean?” he asks. “About dying?”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I dunno. Just something people say, isn’t it?”
“No,” he replies, looking at me. “Nobody who isn’t mental says that, Draco.” Potter really looks at me. I blink, caught out in my fucked-upedness, which is maybe a mask for something else, something he’s all too good at: the faltering, free-falling will to live.
Nobody survives like him. Death is nothing to the Boy Who Lived. It’s a bug squashed under his shoe. I think… maybe that’s something he could teach me.
“You’re an incredible fuck. And you’re… beautiful,” he says, almost surprised sounding.
“You’re drunk,” I tell him.
“I’m not.”
“Well, the line’s a little late. You already pulled me.” I crush the cigarette out on the wall. This is where things end. This is all of it, incapsulated. It will die here, embalmed in a manky alley. “Alright then. Goodnight, Potter.”
“Do you want to maybe…?” He stops.
I lift a brow. My heart’s going like crazy in my chest. “Yes, darling?” It’s flippant. So why can I see myself saying it in the morning, in a dressing gown, making us some tea, watching him come awake in the freshness of a new day? Why do I want ‘Do you want to maybe’ so bad?
“Come to mine?” he finishes.
“For another go?” Because that’s so much easier. He’s already proven he wants it.
He shrugs. “Maybe. Or just… I dunno.” He steps closer. “Come to mine and see.”
A future in his eyes, however brief.
“Sure. Fine,” I say, put-out as fuck, my body a betrayer, a hail-mary hallelujah.
He takes my wrist, pulls me toward him. He’s all heat and scent and power. I feel his magic gather for the side-along.
What the fuck am I doing? I think.
And the answer comes easily. Too easily. Too perfect.
Time to live.
Author:
lq_traintracksI am of legal drinking age in my region: Yes!
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Challenge/Prompts used: Sex Ed, Honey
Summary: Draco pulls in a club and lo and behold it’s Potter.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17; first person POV; Draco POV; depressed Draco (he’s not exactly suicidal but he doesn’t really care if he lives); some ableist language; drug use; sex; hopeful ending
Word count: 950
Author's Notes (if any): I wrote a thing! \o/ Thank you FWF! <3
Shock of alarm clock, ten pm, I rub my gritty eyes.
“Time to die,” I say, fling covers off, drag myself into a closet full of clothes, clothes, clothes, the promise of performance—mine and everyone else’s.
Stale coffee, shower, dress to the… well, the sevens at least, if not the nines.
Wallet, keys, take to the pavement. “Taxi!” My hand in the air instead of a wand. Muggle all the way tonight, baby.
Smoke a fag with the window cracked, London a dirty streak against the window. “Cheers,” to the driver when he pulls me up to another pavement, another building, another life.
Snort some coke in the loo, down a drink at the bar, take a surreptitious pill. Join the strobe lights on the floor and dance until I’m smothered in sweat.
One bloke, two blokes, four blokes, seven. I could pull but don’t. Tell them my name is Clive, Bertrand, Fig Newton. Another drink, another song, another dizzy dance. Last guy I took to the loos was a week ago Friday. Looked like the devil but sucked cock like a virgin. No sex education, that one. Too much teeth, came in his pants before I got fully hard.
“You could fuck me?” he’d offered from the ground, and I cupped his cheek. “Couldn’t pay me to, honey.” Pat, pat.
Nobody fit tonight. Nobody worth a lingering gaze. Think I’ll call it a night but then—
He’s alone at the bar looking dour as fuck. Hair a mess but when isn’t it? Glasses: stupid. Arse: hot. Fucking dickhead. I’m lured over by his sheer patheticness.
“Buy you one, Potter?” I ask. No slurring. I’m ace.
He looks at me like he’s not surprised to see me here, gaze down my body, back up, judge-fucking-mental.
“You know, forget it,” I say, turn away.
He takes my elbow, but I shake him off.
“Fuck off, Potter.”
“Fuck you, Malfoy,” he says.
“Yeah? Fine with me, baby.”
His eyes flare. You’ve got to be joking. He’s interested. Hot damn.
“But I don’t fuck without a dance,” I tell him.
He shrugs.
“Time to die,” I say.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I pull him onto the floor.
xX
He’s Potter. This can’t be happening. But he’s got his hands on me, his eyes on me. He never looks anywhere else, in fact.
“You hard up?” I check, and he frowns, almost a pout. I smile. “Come on, Potter. I’m pretty much a sure pull here.”
“Are you? Why?”
Poor puzzled dolt.
“Because this,” I say and then grab his half-hard cock inside his jeans, massage it a little.
He closes his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s.”
xX
We’re in the alley, and his cock is in my mouth, and I hate how good he tastes.
I’m no longer high, just a bit of a buzz, but I’m gone on him, utterly and completely.
“God, you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?” I lift my swollen mouth to say.
“Gonna fuck you,” he agrees, eyes dark, then he pulls me up, spins me round, and gets me against the wall.
He starts kissing my neck, and I pull my trousers down so his fingers can find my hole and stroke it. “Yeah? You like that?”
His answer is to fumble around and then push himself inside.
But there’s no fumbling after that. There’s only bloody banging ecstasy, like no fuck I’ve ever had. He bends me over, slaps my arse. I can’t even do my thing, my dirty talk thing. He fucks it all out of me.
Once we’ve come, and I’m no longer soaring but floating, I offer him a cigarette. He shakes his head no.
We lean against the brick wall, trousers up but breathing a little hard.
“What did you mean?” he asks. “About dying?”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I dunno. Just something people say, isn’t it?”
“No,” he replies, looking at me. “Nobody who isn’t mental says that, Draco.” Potter really looks at me. I blink, caught out in my fucked-upedness, which is maybe a mask for something else, something he’s all too good at: the faltering, free-falling will to live.
Nobody survives like him. Death is nothing to the Boy Who Lived. It’s a bug squashed under his shoe. I think… maybe that’s something he could teach me.
“You’re an incredible fuck. And you’re… beautiful,” he says, almost surprised sounding.
“You’re drunk,” I tell him.
“I’m not.”
“Well, the line’s a little late. You already pulled me.” I crush the cigarette out on the wall. This is where things end. This is all of it, incapsulated. It will die here, embalmed in a manky alley. “Alright then. Goodnight, Potter.”
“Do you want to maybe…?” He stops.
I lift a brow. My heart’s going like crazy in my chest. “Yes, darling?” It’s flippant. So why can I see myself saying it in the morning, in a dressing gown, making us some tea, watching him come awake in the freshness of a new day? Why do I want ‘Do you want to maybe’ so bad?
“Come to mine?” he finishes.
“For another go?” Because that’s so much easier. He’s already proven he wants it.
He shrugs. “Maybe. Or just… I dunno.” He steps closer. “Come to mine and see.”
A future in his eyes, however brief.
“Sure. Fine,” I say, put-out as fuck, my body a betrayer, a hail-mary hallelujah.
He takes my wrist, pulls me toward him. He’s all heat and scent and power. I feel his magic gather for the side-along.
What the fuck am I doing? I think.
And the answer comes easily. Too easily. Too perfect.
Time to live.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-15 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-16 01:02 am (UTC)Draco's brittle cynicism here was edgy and intriguing; his interaction with Potter and especially his interior observations about him suggested the barest beginnings of a change of heart without schmoopiness. A delicate balance, well walked! The last line is perfect.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-16 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-16 03:58 pm (UTC)Well done, mystery writer!
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-17 04:03 am (UTC)A future in his eyes, however brief.
This line took me out!!
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:40 am (UTC)time to...
Date: 2024-04-17 06:26 am (UTC)I imagine Draco is being flippant, but I also love entertaining the idea that he might think Fig Newton is a good muggle name.
Re: time to...
Date: 2024-04-23 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-19 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-20 03:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-20 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-04-20 08:50 pm (UTC)(Also Fig Newton? I cackled.)
no subject
Date: 2024-04-23 01:44 am (UTC)