'Want some?' Harry held out his ice-cream cone to Tom, who found it hard to focus on the damn thing when it was the very cause of Harry's slightly swollen, red lips. Harry blinked innocently at him.
They were sitting at the pool just outside of Harry's house, and the teens had just gotten back from a trip to the local mall to get the groceries Harry's godfather Sirius had asked the boy to get him. He had to work late tonight, so Harry was alone that day. Hence the reason he had asked Tom Riddle, his boyfriend since a few days, to keep him company.
Tom regretted coming over, because his own thoughts and needs were driving him mad.
'No thanks,' Tom forced himself to say and turned back to his newspaper. Damn Harry. Damn frosted things. Damn tongues and red, kissable lips.
Harry shrugged and licked his fingers – it had been dripping off the cone – and then aimed all of his attention to the cone again.
Was the little bastard trying to seduce him?
'It's good,' Harry said, 'I never got why you don't like ice cream.'
A million bad thoughts ran through seventeen year old Tom Riddle's mind and his eyebrow twitched in irritation at his own hormones. 'Harry, I'm trying to read.'
Harry's eyebrows knitted together in frustration, but the boy didn't say anything. He just kept making those wet noises with his lips, humming as he did so and goddammit that pleased look on his pretty face did not help.
Tom's eyebrow twitched again, but he kept his eyes on the paper and almost released a relieved sigh when Harry finally finished eating it. The boy traced his lips with his index finger, before sticking out his tongue and poking it.
Tom's eyebrow twitched again.
'What are you doing?' he forced himself to ask.
'My mouth is numb,' Harry observed with a hint of surprise in his tone, as though he had been expecting anything else from pressing it against frosted food.
'That's what cold things do, yes,' Tom calmly replied.
He doesn't know, he reminded himself, he's not doing it on purpose...
'My mouth is really cold too! Even colder than your skin, here you should feel it-' Harry was quicker than Tom, and he pressed his lips innocently against Tom's hand, which he had snatched after grabbing Tom's newspaper and placing it on his own lap. Tom blinked in utter surprise at Harry.
'Did you feel that? It's amazing how long my lips stay cold, and my tongue-!'
Tom gripped Harry's shirt and pressed his mouth against Harry's cold lips, using Harry's surprise as a way to enter his mouth with his tongue. Indeed, as soon as his own tongue slid over Harry's, he could feel how unnaturally cold the appendage was and he found himself soothing his lips over Harry's in a fruitful attempt of warming the boy up. He hummed, finding the kiss strange and an entirely new experience, but not unpleasant.
When they broke apart, Tom wore a satisfied smirk on his face and Harry wore a flustered look on his. Tom hummed in pleasure and released Harry's shirt.
'Amazing indeed,' he loosely commented. Harry rolled up the paper and smacked him on the head with it, before muttering something about bastards who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.
It was worth it.