Sailing Away

Chapter 2

Sunlight woke him up. It peaked through the curtains sometime past nine in the morning and curated the swirling dreams in his subconscious outward and formed a dull headache. It was enough to get him out of bed temporarily to retrieve some pain relief to reduce everything he was feeling. Dropping three white tablets into his palm, he swallows them down and takes a couple of messy handfuls of water from the sink to make the trip easier–letting the water run down his chin and onto his neck. The running water fills the amount of silence growing from the bedroom and into the bathroom, it's not deafening, but it's something other than static.

Letting the sound fill the space around him for a bit longer, he places both hands on the marble counter and looks at himself in the mirror–almost experiencing deja-vu from last night. He doesn't look tired or rested–he just looks. His facial hair is growing in. The freckles he had around his face have faded since the end of the summer–he doesn't look quite as aged now. His hair, although growing, still remains somewhat tidy and short, with a few flares of curls sprouting out from where he laid his head on the pillow.

Running his hands through the water for a brief few seconds, he cups a small amount and dips his face closer to the sink to limit the amount of mess he could create from dowsing his face in the water. A couple of turns and he feels somewhat refreshed, but mainly a bit more awake. Running his hand under the water one last time, he gets a little bit more and runs his hand on his chest, around the nape of his neck and letting whatever else fall down to his belly in small gleaming droplets that leave trails all along his torso–rubbing it in for the cooling effect he's desperate for. A quick flick to turn off the faucet he returns to his bedroom and lays back down on top of his bed. The air from the AC kicks on in time and hits his skin from above. It's borderline erotic as to how he's feeling–it's just so fucking good.

Goosebumps form under the wet areas, sending small vibrations throughout the rest of his body to warm up the exposed areas of his already naked body. Nothing he's ashamed of anymore. Hairs standing on end and prickling his hand as its rest on his belly and the other behind his head. No matter how much his body tries to warm these areas, the air keeps it intoxicatingly cool.

Harry can almost visualize someone sitting above his hips–both of their bodies colliding in the heat but at the insistence that nothing can be actually done about it until they say so. They're holding an ice cube against his chest to create a light sensation as they play and own his body.

Tracing over his swallows tattoos as a minor start, they place cold kisses within the trails as they move on subtly. Holding their attention on his chest, they rub the ice cube over his left nipple, letting it harden under the cold sensation as they flick over it with their thumb. Harry let out a soft shivered breath as the combination of cold and warmth from a few touches feels overwhelming even in the smallest quantities. Letting his body grow in goosebumps and excitement, they run the ice over his nipple once more for moisture before taking it into their own mouth and swirling their tongue around the sensitive area. Harry grasping for some air, letting his head roll back into the white sheets, he lets himself be devoured by this person.

Repeating the slow deliberate process on his other nipple, Harry focuses on the sensation and letting the water melt into his skin. By the second his body is warming and pooling some of the water in the middle of his chest–creating a somewhat sticky sensation as the person runs their fingernails up and down his chest. Tracing lines on his skin to make it crawl. His hips buck up from under the person in an attempt to gain a response–but they pay no attention as they focus on the task at hand.

He's a little desperate.

Replacing the ice cube from a small bowl nearby, the tip of the new ice sends a small shock wave through his sternum as they write cursive letters down to the bottom as they near the antennae of the butterfly tattoo. Harry can't comprehend what it is they're writing, he's just focusing on keeping his cool as he slowly boils from underneath.

The sharp edge of the ice cube digging into Harry's skin glides slowly on the outline of his butterfly tattoo. With each new direction, they bend down and blow gently, encouraging the skin to grow under their control of Harry's body. And he can't help but blow out slow shallow breaths to keep up with the growing excitement raging through him. Some of the water melts towards the center of his stomach, pooling and settling under the careful watch of his partner. Taking a new small piece of ice between their slender fingers, they bring it near to the tip of their tongue before locking eyes with Harry and swirling their tongue around the now dull tip of the ice. Running their pink tongue back and forth over the cube as it drips down over their hand–threatening to fall down further onto Harry's stomach. As the ice melts in and around their mouth they bring down their lips to meet the pooled water on Harry's stomach and lick up whatever is leftover. Small shock waves spiral throughout Harry's body as the natural body heat radiating from him is counteracted from their icy tongue and lips. Dragging it slowly up and down to make Harry squirm under their watchful gaze as they keep their eye contact together.

Harry doesn't think he can keep it together much longer.

Once clean, they retrieve another piece of ice from the bowl nearby and trace it towards Harry's belly button, but pick it up once near to let the contents drip into his navel. Letting each agonizing drip fill him until it slowly pours over. Again, his partner melts a smaller cube in their mouth before licking up their mess, savoring every inch of Harry.

Picking up their mouth from his belly, they take one last piece of ice and drag it down lower to Harry's center. Bypassing any untouched area and draw slow circles leading further into his pelvic region. As the ice melts and leaves an unkempt mess, the partner runs their fingers down from Harry's belly to his hard length that's pressed up against their stomach–taking him into their hands and Harry whimpering at the touch. Giving a few pumps, they lean forward and wrap their lips around his tip–staring up at him through their lashes to see Harry roll his head back and sharply groan in the satisfaction that can't come any sooner. Swirling their tongue around his swollen head, tasting the saltiness from the pre-come. The coldness they sucked up from the ice cube before sends some shivers through Harry's length–a jolt to the system. They swirl their tongue around his head before sinking their mouth deeper and capturing Harry at his base with some strokes from their other free hand.

Harry's at a loss for words, his mind can't make up what it wants to think or say–it's just muddled through pleasure and heat. He moves his hands from his partner's thighs and to their bobbing head so he could thread his fingers through their hair as his chest heaves. The tension in Harry's belly builds as his partner's pace quickens. His hips buck up once more, but his partner moves their hand to grip his hip to keep him down–wanting full control. Keeping the rhythm in control with their mouth, lips wrapped around his length, their tongue flat against his velvet skin as it moves up and down drives Harry to throw his head back further into the mattress. His neck taught in exposure and his jawline sharply poking out from beneath his skin that was glistening with beads of sweat, Harry feels himself teetering the edge. His back curving upward as the intensity in his stomach builds–ready to burst at any moment. Few words far in between gruntly muttered in a hot breath–his mind still not capable of any thoughts.

His fingers gripping tighter at the roots of his partner's hair, holding onto the edge of something before he plows into his orgasm. He can't hold back for much longer as he can feel his tip graze the back of their throat, completely devouring him over and over again. A blunt force as they swallow him wholly. Harry wants to shout out through his gritted teeth, to lose himself completely.

The tension in his belly bursts. The shock of his organs rides through him. Through gruttled words and moans, he contorts his body in pleasure and release. His load hitting the back of his partner's throat in warm spurts. The slick friction around Harry's length slows down, his body collapses back down into the mattress–the release from the built tension sends him into a euphoric high.

Staring up at the ceiling, Harry watches the fan turn. It's buzzing sound brings reality into perspective. His hand still wrapped around himself covered in his own warmth, he relays the fantasy in his head and how real it felt in those minutes. His partner, now just as gone as the lingering moment, was still imprinted on his body and the control they had on him–leaving him to ponder at the idea of loneliness and how it demands to be acknowledged. Just enough that it creates people within the walls of our minds to satisfy us for fleeting moments of pleasure.