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Synthesis
By : Aja
Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > General > Lord of the Ring Stars
Views: 783 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: This is work of fiction! I do not know the celebrity(ies) I am writing about, and I do not profit from these writings. - Chapter List
- 1
- Author: Kerry ~Aja
Pairing: Harry/Craig
Rating: R
Summary: Craig likes kissing Harry under the noon sun.
Note: For challenge 9 from working_blue. Write a Craig/Harry fic including the line: 'Harry preferred to kiss Cran thn the dark, he wanted his world to consist of nothing but Craig's mouth on his.' I just altered the tense. Fluffy, because that's just the mood I'm in.
Disclaimer: Not true. Not even close to being true.
SYNTHESIS
Craig likes to touch Harry when they're out in public. Nothing too intimate; not because he cares what people will say, he just thinks that intimate touches are for intimate places. So he touches Harry's arm, hugs a broad shoulder, presses the tips of his fingers briefly to the small of Harry's back.
Harry doesn't mind the touches at all, but with Craig he prefers to wait until they are home. There, Harry will happily touch him everywhere. A slow drag of his thumb over slightly parted lips. The pressure of his palm on a stomach that quivers when Harry slides his fingers down to grip the back of Craig's knee.
Craig likes kissing Harry under the noon sun. Likes the way the heat makes sweat prickle out all along the stubble on Harry’s jaw. Likes the way it tastes on his tongue, salty and rough.
Harry prefers to kiss Craig in the dark, he wants his world to consist of nothing but Craig's mouth on his. He doesn’t need to see Craig’s face because he knows every feature, every smooth curve, every tiny imperfection.
Craig tells Harry every day that he loves him. It doesn't matter where they are, Craig will always tell him the same way. He'll lean in close and whisper it like a sacred secret into Harry's ear. He doesn't shout it from the rooftops. He might, given half the chance, but he doesn't need to. Because anybody looking at them would know in an instant that Craig loves Harry.
Harry never replies, "I love you, too." He prefers not to use little words to express such complex emotions. He tells Craig he loves him with everything that he does. Wakes his lover at ten to six in the morning, just because he thinks Craig would enjoy watching the sunrise with him, is just one of the ways Harry tells Craig he loves him. Mixing cinnamon into the honey Craig has on his toast is another.
Craig thinks Harry's at his sexiest when he's relaxed. Shirtless and barefoot, one leg tucked beneath him, the other stretched out, heel making a pale indentation in the grass. If Harry has a cigar lit, the smoke curling up and into the night, Craig finds him impossible to resist. There are dozens of butts from half-finished cigars littering the area around the porch, where they've been hastily abandoned in favour of feverish kisses.
Harry isn't sure about using the word 'sexy' to describe Craig. It implies, to him, a standard that's already been set. If he gives in and defines sexy as something that will simply make him haul Craig into the bedroom without a word, he'd probably say that the sexiest thing about Craig is when he laughs. Really laughs, like there's absely ely nothing that can bring him down. The sound never fails to make Harry feel weak and shivery inside.
Craig loves it when Harry fucks him hard and fast. He likes feeling it afterward, even a couple of days later. When he undresses and catches sight of himself in the mirror, bruises dark smudges around his hips and shoulders, it makes him smile. Even makes him blush.
Harry doesn't mind leaving bruises on Craig's skin. But, if they have all the time in the world to spend in bed together, he prefers to take things slowly. Butterfly kisses, kittenish licks along Craig's ribs, soft bites to the insides of his wrists. A tickling suckle at wriggling toes, nibbles at each ankle. He'll lavish attention on every last inch of Craig's body, turn him into a quivering mass of sensitive nerves, and then he'll enter Craig, oh-so-slowly. He'll lock eyes with his lover, memorize the way his pupils grow large, giving the illusion of darkening irises. Harry will roll his hips like a lazy wave, ebbing and flowing, until it becomes too much to bear.
They'll both sigh, quiet sounds of completion and love, and tumble willingly into a gradual freefall. All the way back down to earth.
END - 1
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