Adult Content Warning
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Summary
Harry breathed in deeply, but it did nothing to steady him. His lungs were already full of Malfoy. Of whisky and sweet woodsmoke – of cedar and sage pressed between two fingers. Harry felt the scent settling into his skin, vertiginous and warm.
Instinctively, his leg shifted forward, pressing between Malfoy’s, pinning him to the table with more force than intended. A groan escaped Malfoy’s lips, quiet and surprised, and all Harry could feel was the way Malfoy's thighs pressed against his, nerves lighting on fire at the touch.
This was madness. Harry knew it. But for some reason, it didn’t stop him.
“Do you always resort to force, Potter?” His tone was light, daring, and entertained. Malfoy was toying with him. Acted like he’d just been handed exactly what he’d wanted all along.
“Brash, impulsive,” he went on, letting the words drip slowly and sweetly. “Incredibly stubborn. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.”