This is the little lost sex scene I whined about in my response
 to Torch's feedback essay. Chriss has *ordered* me to post it
 and since she tracked down a hard copy and typed it in for me, I
 am somewhat obliged. That, and I'm not sure if one can disobey
 her and live. ;)

 This may eventually re-appear in a story, but I don't know what
 or when. Not beta'd.

 Untitled 1 (VOY, P/K, NC-17) 1/1
 copyright julad <>

 I was dreaming, and aware that I dreamed.

 I was sprawled on the floor in a dark non-place, but I was able
 to see. Harry was advancing on hands and knees, naked and
 aroused. His body like that of a golden feline, held low,
 it rippled gracefully with latent strength. His eyes shone black
 with predatory lust, and his lips curved upwards, mysterious and

 Then he was over me, knees pinning my shoulders to the ground,
 hands holding my wrists at my sides. In front of my eyes his
 erection swayed, tantalizingly out of reach, and my mouth was
 watering for the taste of it, jaws aching for the hot, pulsing
 weight of it. I was hungry for him, starved, filled with gut-
 wrenching yearning to touch my lips to him again. And it was
 denied me.

 Instead, he lowered his face and swept his hair over my groin.
 The teasing, emphemeral silk of it made me jump and twitch,
 thrust my hips toward him, but he drew away. Then he lowered
 his head again, and pressed soft lips to my cock, letting his
 hair shiver over my scrotum and between my thighs.

 Again, I strained upward, mouth open, neck muscles screaming in
 protest as I reached for the beautiful erection, needing
 desperately to take him and worship him with every fragment of my
 soul. But my head fell back as his wet tongue flickered over my
 scrotum and up towards the head. I knew with dream-certainly
 what would happen next, and my strangled groan broke the silences
 in this small, endless place.

 The faintest touch of his lips on the tip, then his tongue was
 probing the slit and a burning started, low and fierce. It
 stayed there until his mouth moved downwards and the fire
 traveled with it, heating the blood that pumped through me.
 Further down, long languid kisses and my whole erection was
 burning so hot that the rest of me was cold by comparison. A
 faint moan escaped me as I realized my nipples were the coldest,
 two points of intensely lonely chill on my torso, and no touch
 was going to warm them until this was over.

 But oh, the feeling of Harry's tongue dragging leisurely over
 that tight skin. I nearly screamed at the injustice. I wanted
 to taste him! I wanted to wrap my mouth around that gorgeous
 cock and never, ever let go. This was what I loved doing more
 than anything else in the universe, and he was taunting me with
 it. He was preventing me from taking what should be mine, and
 giving to me what should be his.

 Then my whimpers were becoming louder, more insistent and I was
 struggling angrily against the weight that immobilised me,
 trapping me at arms length, keeping me from taking what I craved
 when it was pulsing in front of my eyes. But he held me down
 and slowly, so slowly, dragged those baby-soft lips upward until
 they were wrapped tightly around the head; applying only just
 enough suction to make me writhe impatiently, with little pulses
 of pressure and firm swipes of his agile tongue driving my need
 higher as my frustration increased beyond bearing and through my
 choking breath I managed to whisper,

 "Baby, please?"

 and with dream-suddenness I was staring into his black eyes and
 his lips were brushing gently across mine as he whispered,

 "I forgive you,"

 then I was kneeling naked before him, riding the silver
 knife-edge of my own orgasm as I leaned forward to claim what was

 The faintest searing heat on my lips, the briefest sensation of
 slick skin over thick iron, a tiny intoxicating spark of bitter
 precum on my tongue and

 and abruptly I'm awake, gasping, bucking, clutching, reaching,
 shuddering, moaning, pleading...




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