i . a m . a . c a m e r a . ( c o b r a . f l a s h . r e m i x )

I Am a Camera (Cobra Flash Remix)
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: "Blaise likes to be in control, or to believe he is, anyway, and Draco finds that useful."

Notes: Thanks to Mousapelli for handholding and betaing. Me, writing Slytherins! I know! Written for Remix/Redux III: Reloaded. The original story is Snapshots by wyomingnot

Date: March 15, 2005

Selective Focus

Blaise is a challenge.

Draco has watched him for five years now, and believes he understands him. Blaise declares no loyalties, takes no sides. He's a half-blood, and though he cheers for Slytherin at Quidditch and does his best to win house points, he's an outsider, and he knows it. He sits by himself at meals, ignoring the way the others mock his strange eating habits, but Draco knows these little rituals are Blaise's way of exerting control over the world.

Blaise likes to be in control, or to believe he is, anyway, and Draco finds that useful.

"It's a fucking sandwich, Zabini, not a bloody Potions assignment," Draco says, pushing Blaise's books aside and sitting down across from him, disturbing the reconstruction of his sandwich. Blaise looks up, annoyed. His dark eyes flash and his skin flushes, and Draco finds himself staring at Blaise's full lower lip, caught between even white teeth, as Blaise rearranges his food on his plate.

Draco grins. Back in third year, he used to steal bites of Blaise's food, forcing him to either get another plate or go hungry. He wonders if the response now would be the same, or if Blaise would instead put his lips and teeth over the spot still wet from Draco's mouth.

Blaise takes a bite of his sandwich and Draco watches the muscles in his jaw work, mesmerized. Blaise looks up and Draco catches his breath, need unspooling low in his belly at the heat in Blaise's eyes.

Oh yes, Blaise has his uses, and Draco enjoys putting him to them.

Angle of View

When the others laugh at his derisive commentary on Hagrid's lecture, Draco notices one voice in particular is missing. While Blaise is not usually among his hangers-on, in Care of Magical Creatures the Slytherins tend to stick close, always ready to cause their so-called professor trouble at the slightest sign from Draco.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Blaise wandering off, dark hair gleaming in the spring sunlight. Hagrid turns to talk to his precious Gryffindors, and Draco takes the opportunity to slip away.

He takes care not to run and slows his pace and his breathing as he gets closer, so Blaise won't think he's chasing after him.

Blaise reaches the line of trees marking the Forbidden Forest and turns. There's amusement but no surprise on his face when he sees Draco. He pulls an apple, brilliantly red, out of his pocket, and polishes it on his robe before sinking those even white teeth into its firm flesh. The crunch sounds loud in the silence surrounding them, and a trickle of juice runs down his chin. Draco reaches out, wipes it away, and licks the juice from his fingers.

Blaise takes another bite, and Draco leans in, this time licking the excess juice from Blaise's lips. Cool-tart gives way to hot-sweet as Blaise opens his mouth and touches his tongue to Draco's.

Draco can feel the smile curling across his face like a snake when he pulls away and Blaise makes a soft sound of protest. Blaise drops to the ground but Draco pulls him back up; he can get a blowjob from Pansy any time -- he wants something different this afternoon. He pushes Blaise against the trunk of a nearby tree, shoving his robes aside impatiently.

It's rough and sloppy, and Draco comes too quickly, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Blaise's throat. When Blaise comes a few moments later, he mumbles something in Draco's ear, but Draco can't quite make it out over the thunderous rush of his own blood.

Draco forces himself to move slowly, to take care and be thorough as they clean up, so Blaise can't see that he's suddenly anxious they've been missed.

No one is foolish enough to say anything about their swollen lips or the bite mark on Blaise's neck when they return to the castle, and Draco relaxes, pushing the unfamiliar discomfort away.

Color Shift

Draco is surprised when Blaise walks past the tea service in the common room without stopping. Blaise altering a routine is unheard of.

But he sounds casual, disinterested, when he says, "No tea tonight?"

"Not tonight," Blaise replies, passing through the door to their room. Draco follows, curious. "Where is everyone else?"

"Detention. Imagine that."

"Good." Blaise turns to face him, and Draco stops short. There is no more than an inch or two between them. They are the same height, the same age, but there is something in Blaise's eyes that makes him look older. With the fire behind him, his face is in shadow, and for a moment Draco can't read him, and thinks maybe he doesn't know him at all.

Blaise leans in and nips at Draco's lower lip, then sucks on it before releasing it slowly. Draco reaches out to settle his hands on Blaise's hips, but Blaise moves away. Draco can see a letter crumpled in one fist.

"What's that?"

"What?"

Draco makes a quick lunge, but Blaise has always been good at sleight of hand, and the letter disappears somewhere -- up his sleeve? into his pocket? -- and then he's pulling Draco close for another kiss, a rough tangle of lips and tongue and teeth that sets heat sparking beneath Draco's skin. He knows, objectively, that the other boys are in detention right now, but the idea that anyone could walk in on them at any moment is thrilling.

Blaise pulls away. "Does it matter?" he asks softly, and for a moment, Draco can't remember what they were talking about before the kiss.

"I guess not," he says, but of course it does, and he knows Blaise knows it.

He's moving to pull Blaise into another kiss when the door slams open, revealing an irritated-looking Theodore Nott. Draco doesn't actually change his position, but the distances seem to shift, so that he's closer to Theodore than to Blaise now, and they can all sense it. Blaise moves to his corner of the room and shuffles his belongings about for a bit before heading to the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Draco talks to Theodore about their Potions essay, but he's aware of everything that goes on in this room, and he saw Blaise stash the letter in a drawer.

Double Exposure

A noise like the crinkling of parchment wakes Draco up, and he rolls over to see Blaise lying next to him, naked, bag of jelly slugs in hand.

"Oh, good, you're up," he says. Draco squints at him in the darkness, not quite able to manage a glare. Blaise holds out the bag of sweets. "Jelly slugs," he says unnecessarily, and Draco knows without looking that Blaise has eaten all the red ones, and left the blue and green and black in the bag.

He reaches for the bag and Blaise grabs his wrist, pulls him in for a kiss. He tastes sugar and a flavor that can only be described as red; he's sure Blaise's tongue is stained with it. He shoves at Blaise, not breaking the kiss, and Blaise drops the sweets, which scatter in the bed with them, forgotten.

Blaise's skin is warm and smooth under Draco's hands, his chest is skinny and hairless, and his cock is hard. Which, as Draco well knows, is the natural state of most sixteen-year-old boys, but part of him likes to think it's on his account, and his cock responds in kind.

Blaise plucks at Draco's nightshirt with long fingers. "Off," he gasps when Draco breaks the kiss. "Take it off." Draco pulls away, one eyebrow raised incredulously. "Please," Blaise adds, and it's close enough to begging that Draco gives in, pulling the light cotton shirt over his head and tossing it to the end of the bed. He grabs Blaise's shoulders and pushes him down against the pillows. Blaise's legs fall open and Draco settles between them, hips already thrusting, hungry for the blissful friction, heat and need spiraling through him. He groans into Blaise's mouth when Blaise wraps a hand, slick with sugary saliva, around their pricks and strokes.

Blaise's hair is a fall of shadow against the snowy linen of Draco's pillows, and his olive-skinned hands are dark against the rosy flush of Draco's frost-pale skin, and for a moment as they thrust and rub against each other, Draco is startled by the contrast.

But then Blaise's hand twists and pulls, and with a low, guttural moan, Blaise arches and comes.

Draco stares down at him, hips moving inexorably, and then leans in to kiss him, all sharp teeth and desperate tongue as the high, sweet tension breaks and pleasure rolls through him, centering on his cock and radiating out in all directions. He collapses on top of Blaise, still shuddering, and presses his face to Blaise's sweaty neck. Blaise strokes his hair almost gently before shoving him off and cleaning them both up with a murmured Scourgify.

Blaise curls up on his side and says, "It was from my dad."

"Yes," Draco says, as if he's known it all along. Maybe he should have. Letters from home tend to have an unsettling effect on them all these days.

They don't say anything else. They don't need to.

Blaise makes no move to return to his own bed, and soon his breathing is even and his body relaxed. Draco lies on his back, staring up at the canopy until he's sure Blaise is asleep. Then he pads across the room to Blaise's chest of drawers. A quick search reveals the letter Blaise had hidden from him earlier.

With a whispered "Lumos," Draco scans it, the pertinent information
catching his eye right away.

Your mother is leaving for a while. We're not getting a divorce, and we love you, and each other, very much, but given Recent Events, we feel it's safer this way, for all of us.

He carefully refolds the parchment and puts it back beneath Blaise's socks. He slips into bed, curling up with his back to Blaise, unused to sharing the bed for anything but sex.

It's a long time before he falls asleep.

Depth of Field

Blaise wakes early, disentangles himself from Draco's sheets, and crawls back into his own bed. Draco's snores echo softly; snoring and fucking are probably the only things Draco does honestly, and those are the things Blaise likes most about him. Draco thinks he's in control, and that's all right with Blaise.

Blaise knows there's a war coming, and while he's neutral now, he prefers to hedge his bets.

end

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