Author's Notes: I had the idea that Draco suffered an accident at the beginning of 7th year and lost his vision, and it serves as part of the means by which he and Harry get together. Although this fic is PWP, it inspired an entire (nonsmut) backstory called Draco In Darkness, which can be found here. The smutlet itself was also fueled by a recent LJ discussion of "How many licks would it take to get Harry to moan," wherein Verdant answered – None. "I personally think that Draco can make Harry moan by withholding the lick. Moan for me, Harry. No tongue till you moan. There's a good boy." I have used her proposed line of dialogue – and, indeed, the whole no-lick concept -- but she gets full credit for the ideas. Thanks also go to Nancy for beta-reading.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A night of pure touch, that´s what this had become.  Harry´s glasses lay on the nightstand, and a length of cloth wound around his green eyes in their place.  He had been the one to suggest this temporary sightlessness - tonight they would be on equal footing, as they had been before the ill-fated Quidditch match.  He would not gaze into Draco´s unseeing grey eyes and feel oddly bereft because the blond could not return the gesture.  He would not watch for visual confirmation that his actions were pleasurable.  He would not watch where he put his hands at all.

Tonight they would both rely on their other senses.

Draco had the advantage of course; he was used to it by now.  His nimble fingers made quick work of the knot as he bound the fabric around Harry´s eyes and, as soon as it was secure, he bent confidently to suck on a sensitive spot behind Harry´s ear.  But Harry turned quickly in his arms and, knocking his hand a bit unexpectedly into Draco´s chest, held him back.

“Hang on a bit,” he murmured.  “This is normal for you.  The whole point was to have me be the same as you – doing things without my eyes.  If you´re doing everything, how is it any different?”

“It´s different because you won´t be able to see what dastardly things I´m going to do to you, will you?”  Harry discovered he could hear the smirk on Draco´s face; he wasn´t sure how, but he could hear it all the same.

“Er… I suppose so,” he conceded.  “But—“

“Potter, you talk too much, did you know that?  Now – shut up and just … feel.  If you really want to know what it´s like for me when we do this – just lay back and feel.”

Harry closed his mouth over another protest and nodded, before remembering that Draco couldn´t see it.  Normally, seeing those blank grey eyes automatically reminded him to use voice and not gestures, but robbed of his own vision, he´d forgotten.  “Fine, you win,” he replied instead.

“Of course I do.  Don´t I always?  Now, shush.”  Then, before Harry could make any sort of reply, he felt Draco´s hand reach out, find his face, and then warm lips were pressed to his.  He started – he hadn´t known the kiss was coming – but then relaxed into the familiar feel of Draco´s mouth against his.  This isn´t so different, he thought; Harry usually closed his eyes during a kiss – yet he found himself paying more attention to the minute traces of Draco´s tongue along his lips, to the feel of Draco´s hands undoing his shirt buttons.

“Lie back,” the other boy murmured.  Harry hesitated a moment, trying to remember which way he was facing on the bed; then he felt Draco gently pushing him down, and his outstretched hand encountered the pillow.  How on earth did Draco maintain so much of his pre-accident grace, the same confidence in his spatial relationships?  Harry shook his head mentally as he settled himself on top of the duvet.  Draco was right; it *was* different, even for the more passive partner, but Harry quickly found he didn´t need his eyes to know exactly where Draco was, and what he was doing.  He felt the mattress dip and shift as Draco knelt next to him, felt the cool fingers make quick work of the buttons on his jeans, and found he knew the exact moment to lift his hips so they – and his boxers – could be pulled off, just by feel.  

Getting Draco´s clothing off was more of a challenge; individual shirt buttons weren´t so hard, but he missed one in the row and had to go back.  He took his time pushing the shirt off, enjoying the feel of muscles under his hands, muscles he was used to admiring with his eyes.  This was almost better, in a way; the simple gesture of running his hands over Draco´s shoulders and down his arms stirred him unexpectedly.  Tracing the curve of Draco´s arse as he pulled down his trousers was even better – he´d always been in more of a hurry to divest the other boy of his clothing to pay much attention to the feel of this step, and Harry made a mental note to appreciate this more often, blindfold or no blindfold.

Once both of them were free of all their clothing, Draco took the lead again.  He trailed light fingers down Harry´s torso, across the slight hollow of his abdomen, then back up again.  Up and down, back and forth.  Nails raked gently over Harry´s nipples, and he drew in a breath sharply.  He felt Draco switch to the pads of his fingers, running circles around the raised flesh, then – just once more – over the sensitive nubs.  Harry arched his back slightly, knowing full well Draco would sense the shift in body position, silently asking for the Slytherin´s lips to replace his fingers, for that warm mouth to follow the same path.  But Draco did not comply; instead, he shifted to straddle Harry´s thighs and continued to trail his fingers down the other boy´s sides.  

Harry scarcely missed being able to see Draco´s blond hair falling around his face, the familiar body hovering over him; deprived of his sight, he was suddenly much more aware of Draco´s thighs surrounding his, of the base of Draco´s erection pressing between them.  Of the incessant teasing fingers, working their way lower, curving around his hips, stirring the dark curls below.

He pushed his pelvis up.  “Please,” he groaned, unable to take the teasing fingers anymore.

“What?” Draco murmured silkily in response.  “You want more?”

“Please.”  It came out as a mere whisper this time.

“Something, like … this, perhaps?”  Without any warning, Harry suddenly felt Draco´s firm grip wrap around him, the fingers cool against his heated flesh, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.  The seated man stroked him once … twice … then, maddeningly, paused.  Then again … stroking up, down, up … pause.  He set up an unpredictable pattern, jerking Harry off rhythmically for a full minute and then interspersing a few short, quick strokes, a few agonising moments of rest which weren´t restful in the slightest.  Strokestrokestrokestroke…*up*…*downup*………strokestrokestroke....

With Draco generally too far away for Harry to do much to him in return, he was left to clutch at Draco´s knees and thighs as his lover manipulated Harry´s cock.  He could feel the tension building inside of him and he thrust his hips forward, the aching twisting need overtaking any reason or control.  But, just as suddenly as Draco had gripped him, he released him, and Harry knew a whole new level of frustration.

“What are you—” he began, only to have the words cut off as a hand found his face and, sufficiently oriented, Draco´s mouth closed over his own.  Harry felt the full weight of Draco´s body press down on him as he leaned into the kiss.  Their cocks were now nestled next to each other, and Harry immediately forgave Draco for ceasing his handwork in favour of this new development.

“Oh, God…” he groaned into his lover´s mouth.  He pushed his hands through Draco´s hair and pulled him closer, feeling the silk caress his fingers as he in turn caressed Draco´s tongue with his own.  He didn´t want it to ever end, and yet he felt as if he would die if he stayed like this much longer; Draco was sucking on his bottom lip, Draco´s bare skin was pressed against him chest to toe, Draco´s erection was thrusting against his own, Draco´s hands were pinning his down.

And then all of it disappeared, except the hands.  He felt the weight leave him as Draco shifted positions.  The mouth pulled away – nothing touched him except the hands; fingers wove through his own, holding them firmly against the sheets.  And yet … the mouth was there.  He could feel the warmth of Draco´s breath ghosting over his skin, and sensed that if he were to raise himself so much as a millimeter, those wet lips would come in contact with his skin.  But the hands held him firmly in place, and all he could do was lie there, enduring the torture of Draco´s mouth almost touching him.

“Moan for me, Harry. No tongue till you moan.”  The whispered command came from the vicinity of his breastbone; strands of Draco´s hair swirled over his nipples.

His hands clenched under Draco´s grip.  “Damn you.”  Draco knew this one weakness of his.  The Slytherin´s fingers were talented, yes, but there was something about his mouth – that tongue which had spilled such hatred when they were younger had come to bring him unbearable pleasure in their near-adulthood.  He had withheld it, teasingly, before, and yet it was somehow far more torturous now, with only Harry´s magnified sense of touch to let him know what his lover was doing.  

The warmth trailed down, down, down – a near duplicate of the path his fingers had taken earlier.  In fact, Draco´s fingers led the way this time as well, following the contours of Harry´s body, and ensuring his mouth would skim the air over his skin without actually coming in contact.  Harry endured this with silent panting, holding himself still as much by sheer force of will as by force of Draco, until the mouth reached his groin. With agonising slowness, he felt the warm breath tease his inner thighs and then inch along the underside of his straining cock.  When it finally reached the tip, he could no longer hold back.  A moan escaped him, uncontrolled, undisguised.

“There´s a good boy,” Draco murmured approvingly; he retraced the route up Harry´s shaft with his tongue as a reward and, before Harry could catch his breath, took the full length in his mouth.  A much louder moan echoed in the small bedchamber.

“Shhhh.  Mustn´t wake the neighbours.”  A warm suction pulled at Harry´s erection before sliding fully back over him again.

“You´re not … helping….” Harry ground out, just as Draco swirled his tongue around the head.  The pleasure was spiraling ever-upwards and he knew his reactions would soon be completely out of his control.  That tongue… those lips … those hands....

Harry gave into the sensation.  Draco´s grip kept his hands pinned, likewise limiting torso movement, but his hips were free and he thrust them up toward Draco´s willing tongue with abandon, and he no longer knew or cared if people heard his cries.  The warm wetness of Draco´s mouth slipped up and down, pulling, sucking, caressing, and he pushed his hips higher, frantic.  Take me … take me… oh God … I can´t stand it....  

As Draco brought his mouth down over Harry´s thrusting, straining erection one last time, Harry let go.  With a final cry, he released himself onto Draco´s tongue; he gave himself up to the darkness which surrounded him, to the hands which held him, to the whole person who had brought him over the edge.

And when he finally came back to himself, he reached out with a sure hand and grasped Draco´s shoulder, pulling him up so their faces were level.  Then, cupping the other boy´s face with both hands, he planted a thorough kiss on his mouth, savouring the taste of Draco mingled with the taste of himself.  “That was … I can´t even begin to explain it,” he murmured against Draco´s lips.

He heard the other boy chuckle.  “You don´t have to – I know, remember?”  Then, more seriously,  “But the difference is you don´t have to stay that way.  You can get rid of that stupid blindfold now, if you want.”

“No,” Harry answered, kissing him again, and rolling them over so Draco now lay on his back.  “You´ve just ‘seen´me.  Now it´s my turn to ‘see´ you….”

(End)

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