WARNING: This is NOT a happy story. I don't know what part of my brain this came out of, but it scared me. NC-17. Non-consensual sex. Don't ask me what happens next, I don't know.
by the lady of shalott
I want to be completed
I want to disappear
I want to be uncovered
Take me down
Let me drown
October Project, "Deep As You Go"
Panting fiercely, Harry bent Malfoy over the desk and kicked his legs apart. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream," he breathed into one ear.
Malfoy struggled under him, but the binding on his wrists held firm, and with a word, Harry extended it to hold his entire torso to the table. Another two secured his ankles, and then Harry could step back and enjoy the view of Draco's slim, lovely body spread open, waiting for him, the muscles quivering beautifully with tension and fear. His mouth watering, Harry stripped off his own pants and shirt, giving his cock a few unnecessary strokes.
"Potter--" Malfoy's voice was wavering, scared. Harry grinned. That was just how it should be. "Potter, you're under the Psychoreveria spell! This isn't you! You don't want this!"
Harry rummaged among the spell supplies in the cabinet and came up with a vial of oil. "That's where you're wrong," he said, bending down to lick Malfoy's neck while his fingers started the work of getting that perfect ass ready for him. "I've wanted you for years. I can't even count how many times I've wanked off, pretending it was your hand, your cock, your mouth. The only thing that's changed is that now, I've got the guts to just take what I want."
Malfoy made a faint noise of surprise, then a louder one as Harry's fingers probed deeper into him. "Ahh. Oh god. Potter--"
"Has anyone ever fucked you before?" Harry twisted his fingers around, and Malfoy's body jumped in the bindings.
"Good." Harry pulled out his fingers and positioned himself, rubbing some more of the oil over his cock. Malfoy's body resisted, but that only made it better when he finally forced his way inside. His head popped past the hard ring of muscle keeping him out with a shove that got him a gasp. Then he slammed home and Malfoy did scream, muffling it against the desk, and it was everything he'd always wanted.
"You haven't had me charged," Harry said.
Malfoy's eyes were dead and blank. "With what?" His voice was completely flat.
"With--" Harry stopped. He couldn't say it.
"Why would I? So I could be laughed out of court and talked about behind my back?"
"There wouldn't be a trial. You can't imagine that I'd plead innocent."
"You were under a curse. You're not liable. I might be, since I cast the curse."
"It was still me."
Malfoy's lips twisted, the first sign of real emotion. "Oh, I doubt that. You were going on about how you'd been burning with lust for me for years."
Harry swallowed. "That--that was true," he said. "That's why I am guilty. If I hadn't wanted--things--"
Malfoy was silent. Harry had his first chance to really look at him. He looked horrible, his hair hanging limp and snarled, dark rings under his eyes, cheekbones sharp and prominent under the bruised-looking skin. Harry looked away, eyes smarting. This was his fault. He deserved to go to prison for the rest of his life for this.
"And what if I don't want to send you to prison?" Malfoy said softly, and his eyes were alive again, burning, glittering, dangerous. "What if I want something else?"
Harry swallowed. "What--whatever you want," he whispered. "I'll do it."
Malfoy looked at him and smiled. "Not something to be done," he said. "Something."
"It doesn't matter--"
"I want you," Malfoy said, that feverish glitter even brighter now. "And not just for a few hours, the way you had me."
Harry stared at him numbly, wondering if he'd heard correctly.
"I want you to move in here," Malfoy said. "I want your mouth on my cock every morning. I want to take you from behind on my desk every afternoon and between your legs in my bed every night."
His whole body was on fire. He thought he was going to come, or die, or scream, or all three.
And Malfoy leaned in, ferocious, irresistible, and hissed, "And I want everyone in the entire wizarding world to know that you're doing it."
Harry shut his eyes and just shook, tears rolling uncontrollably down his face. And Malfoy was licking them off, licking his mouth, biting him, and Harry knew with sudden terrifying certainty that he had a long way down to go.
Harry sighed deeply as Malfoy slid into him, the long slow stroke nothing but pleasure; he'd had all the resistance pounded out of him over the last month. His own cock twitched untouched against his belly, hard as the one taking him.
He had gotten very good at keeping Malfoy from climaxing quickly. He could make things last for almost an hour now, and it was still not enough, never enough, even though he knew that in a few more hours he'd be on his back again, or on his stomach, or on his knees, being taken again. He ached with hunger every moment he was alone, wandering the empty, dim house in aimless activity until Malfoy came back, the black hole at the center of his universe, and pulled him back into his proper orbit.
It wasn't getting any better. He tried not to think about that, because it would only have meant despair. He'd dared to hope that he might get over this, that too much of what he wanted would be a cure the way that starvation hadn't been. It wasn't, and it was never going to go away, and one day Malfoy would realize that the perfect, final stamp on his revenge would be to end it.
There wouldn't be anywhere for him to go then. He'd had to tell Ron and Hermione the first day, his body aching from being taken, his lips still wet with Malfoy's juices. They'd looked at him in horror, and when he'd told them he was moving into Malfoy Hall, Ron had just gotten up from the table and left, his face white. Hermione had followed when she couldn't convince him to leave, crying.
Malfoy had arranged for everyone else to find out. An elaborate dinner party for the worst gossips of the wizarding world, where he'd mentioned Harry had moved in, then casually drew attention to the wristband that Harry wore, glittering with diamonds in the pattern of the Malfoy family crest. The evening had been a long nightmare after that, sly remarks and cruel, smirking laughter every time Malfoy put a hand on him, summoned him with the crook of a finger.
He'd nearly gone upstairs and thrown himself off the tower. And then the guests had gone and Malfoy had taken him three times, hard, against the wall, on the floor, in the bed, and they spent the night tangled together, waking each other with hungry kisses every few hours. He'd been sleeping in Malfoy's bed since, and there had been no more visitors.
And it couldn't last. Tears were sliding down his face as Malfoy began the slow thrusting that would bring them both to climax, and he didn't stop them, because Malfoy might see them and think he was unhappy, the only chance he had to keep this.
Harry stepped blindly outside. The light hurt his eyes, red with unshed tears. He didn't bother waiting for them to clear. He had wandered the garden enough through the six months to know where everything was.
The lake was a short walk away, deep and black and choked with lilies. He'd stood here before in the shade of the willows and envied the water, mirror-smooth, yielding and impenetrable at the same time. He took off his clothes, his own clothes, not the rich silks and satins Malfoy had wrapped him in, and tried not to look at the pale white band of skin around his wrist.
He left them by the water and stepped in, lily vines entwining his legs. The water took him in, glossy black around his thighs, his waist, his chest. He felt light, buoyant. The water was rising to his shoulders, the lake bottom soft under his feet.
He stopped and turned. On the shore, Draco was watching him.
-= End =-