If Snape had thought he might have been going faster than Draco wanted, those concerns were falling away as the embrace lingered on. Draco is touching, pushing back, opening himself to more without hesitation.
It might be enough for a second time or a third, but this time he needs to say it, they need to, at least briefly, discuss this, what they're doing, where they're headed. He's unwilling to go too far, he cares too much for Draco to take what isn't there for the taking.
"I want you," he breathed against his lips. It's not explicit, but Draco's not naive. He at least understands his meaning, even if he's never done this before. Snape wonders if he has, how far he's gone before, what lines he's drawn and why. He could see it going either way, having sought comfort in sex, explored, distracted himself with it… or having shied away from it, edging towards it but never crossing the line.
He's guiding him to the bedroom, the next room over. It's not far. His chambers are spacious, but compactly laid out, not much hallway between sitting room, study and bedroom. The candles follow them in, pass them by as they make it through the doorway and bob in the center of the room, flaring up for a minute before settling down, burning close to the wick and casting a soft glow around the room. Everything is dark wood, a tall wardrobe and a low trunk with silver accents, the bed a tall four-poster. The bed is made with emerald bedding, silk sheets and a thick, rich looking duvet. His things might not be by and large terribly expensive, but he had fine taste and here, in the bedroom, especially with things that came in contact with his skin, he splurged.
no subject
It might be enough for a second time or a third, but this time he needs to say it, they need to, at least briefly, discuss this, what they're doing, where they're headed. He's unwilling to go too far, he cares too much for Draco to take what isn't there for the taking.
"I want you," he breathed against his lips. It's not explicit, but Draco's not naive. He at least understands his meaning, even if he's never done this before. Snape wonders if he has, how far he's gone before, what lines he's drawn and why. He could see it going either way, having sought comfort in sex, explored, distracted himself with it… or having shied away from it, edging towards it but never crossing the line.
He's guiding him to the bedroom, the next room over. It's not far. His chambers are spacious, but compactly laid out, not much hallway between sitting room, study and bedroom. The candles follow them in, pass them by as they make it through the doorway and bob in the center of the room, flaring up for a minute before settling down, burning close to the wick and casting a soft glow around the room. Everything is dark wood, a tall wardrobe and a low trunk with silver accents, the bed a tall four-poster. The bed is made with emerald bedding, silk sheets and a thick, rich looking duvet. His things might not be by and large terribly expensive, but he had fine taste and here, in the bedroom, especially with things that came in contact with his skin, he splurged.