Nil Carborundum Illegitimi
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,941
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,941
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
In Violence, We Forget Who We Are
Arwarn stripped completely, rubbing the scratchy towel over his pale, clammy skin. He had been given weird looks by those who he had past. Of course be knew he was soaking wet, but it just wasn't polite to stare. What Arwarn didn't know was that the girls who had been seduced by his glamour were wondering why they had been having saucy ideas about the Elf freak. The effect had worn off the females for now he was stone cold sober, he was back in control of his wilder side again.
Wrapping the green Slytherin towel around his waist, he was perversely and childishly pleased that he had arranged the material so that the snake looked like...well...hahaha! Tapping garegarette out of the soft pack, he lit it with someone else's wand and curled up onto the wide windowsill to stare out onto the moors. A boarhound, unmistakably Wolfie, chased invisible hares in the half-moonlight, while Hagrid's shouts tried in vain to call him to heel. The giant groundsman at lot loved the now magnificent young creature as much as its true master. Lucius Malfoy, true to his son's threats, had forced Dumbledore (who had secretly found the incident hilarious and had made sure that Lucius knew about it) to make Arwarn hand him to Hagrid for safe keeping. The boy knew that his most beloved pet would be safely looked after.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Lord, knees curled under him, gazed out into the half-light of the afternoon. Hunting had been impossible; snowfall had meant no scent. Even a vigorous ride on the destrier had not released the tension that he felt in his body. He tucked the wolfskins more closely around him, for the palace was buffeted by the northern winds each winter which made it's interior walls scrim with ice.
Warmth, breath from another being's mouth, trickled onto the back of his frozen neck as hands slid around his chest and caressed him. The Lord closed his eyes, lips curling in pleasure, as a warm, soft tongue drew a line on the salt tasting neck.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy's hands slithered down to the towel, gently freeing it from its position while he nibbled gently at the cropped black hairs cut short to Arwarn's neck.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Something was wrong. His body screeched a warning as his Lady's hands started to massage him gently. Wrong. Something awfully wrong.
A sting of agony bit into his left shoulder, and fingers caressed the top of his left shoulder, dragging fingertips over the sensitive skin.
Think. What is wrong? Pain? No pain with the Lady. Who is causing pain? The boy. Who is the boy? Malfoy....Malfoy.....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Malfoy!" gasped Arwarn, eyes sticky with sleep dragging themselves open. "MALFOY!"
The teeth dug into the this flesh of his shoulder, and he almost screamed. The smell - of course it was Malfoy. The smooth, slightly muscled forearms tightened around him as he started to struggle.
"Admit it, Sandinista, you love it like this!" The drawl in his ear, followed by the flicker of a surprisingly long tongue, made Arwarn snap. One bicep, pinning his right shoulder was near enough....reaching out, sharp, slightly pointed Elven teeth sank into pristine aristocratic Malfoy flesh and hung on.
Screaming, Mortis pushed Arwarn from the sill. "You stupid fool! You imbecile half-blood!"
"At least I wasn't the one that was touching you up when you were asleep!"
"You had a fucking hard on, Sandinista!" taunted Malfoy, still clutching his bruised arm. "The biggest one I've ever seen!"
"And I bet you've seen enough in your time!"
It was sudden, but Malfoy flung himself towards Arwarn, hissing with fury. Knuckles collided with cheekbone, and all the younger boy saw before he collapsed into the darkness was Malfoy sucking his fingers and cursing all the gods he could come up with.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain. Pain had taken residence in his body, along with his brother, Agony. Fury had long since departed, leaving behind the soggy mass of Fear that now crushed his chest and smoked up his brain.
Wrists....sore stripes of pain surrounded each hand and if they moved fire scorched through his flesh. His face had numbed to a throb, but there was some damage there. Lips had sliced open on teeth. The metallic taste of the coppery blood gave a pang of homesickness and the desire for raw meat. Am face up. Good.. Try to get up - can't move. Something weighing down on body.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy surveyed his handiwork. He particularly liked the handcuffs, he mused, watching the skin around the boy's wrists pinken and crisp. Arwarn's ankles were lashed to the bed with thin thongs of leather.
God, the boy was beautiful; a tainted, wanton creature, only good enough for whorish sex and nothing more. Malfoy had always considered himself a connoisseur of flesh, but he had to admit that the half-breed, even when unconscious, was giving out more sensual signals than a roomful of fourth form girls. Watching him, trapped, helpless, ready for him to take as he desired, there was a strange nobility about him, an animalistic magnificence in his refusal to give in to Mortis. Malfoy, in situation with other boys, knew they would surrender. his his case...who knew?
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, other thoughts were blissfully entering his mind, slowly eating all of the nasty little ideas he had and replacing them with a thin, silver mist of unknowing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A click and the burning in his arms dulled to a nag. The silent sound of a knife slashing through leather and he could move his ankles. Still dazed, Arwarn groaned. Pain was gone, but he didn't want to move or else he would tempt wrath.
He was shocked into opening his eyes by the single finger that ran down his cheek and gently caressed his lips. The finger, joined by one of its brothers, slipped across his chin and onto the soft skin of his throat. For one crazy moment, he thought that Malfoy was going to take his pulse.
Green eyes open wide in utter astonishment, Arwarn stared into the face of his captor. isbeisbelief he saw the gentle, almost soppy look, causing the icy eyes to melt and be replaced by nothing but kindness. He wet his painfully cracked lips, trying to articulate, and managed just to croak.
"What the hell you do to me, Malfoy?" he whispered, gently wincing as he touched the weals on his wrists.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Arwarn's voice rose with disbelief. "You soak me, try and wank me off, hit me when I don't respond and then tie me up like the last turkey in the shop and you say you did nothing!?" He shook his head with incredulity.
"Nothing," replied Malfoy.
Arwarn, ever suspicious, eyed the strange look on his enemy's face with something approaching worry. Malfoy, being nice to him. There had to be some devilry behind this...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Watching the boy that lay angry, unamused and somewhat apprehensive, Mortis realised that he just wanted to kiss him. Nothing else entered his head apart from the overwhelming urge to place his own lips on the soft, albeit rather dry lips of Arwarn and kiss all the fear and pain away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwarn sat up, eyes staring into Malfoys. "Not even a little fiddle or a lick or suck anywhere?" He had to admit that no part of his body was sore, so Malfoy was probably telling the truth. Probably being the operative word.
The ghost of a smile floated across the pale Patrician features. "Not even a nibble. What do you take me for, Arwarn? Some kind of sadist sex offender?"
Mouth falling open at the temerity of the statement, the dark head cocked to one side. "Why, Malfoy? Normally you would have had me without any quibbles at all. Why?"
Malfoy blushed, for the first time that Arwarn had ever seen him do properly. His entire face was embarrassed pink. "How could you even think I would do such a thing! I wouldn't do anything to you. As if I'd hurt you!"
Arwarn gave him a searching look. This was just getting too strange and Malfoy was acting positively weird. He could smell something fishy. Indeed this was so fishy that it was approaching the size of a whale shark fishy. "Yeah, right Mortis. Now where have you hidden the razor blades then." It was the first time he had used his enemy's name, and it felt strange on his tongue.
Anger and despair flared in those glacial eyes. "How can you say such evil things! I wouldn't harm you, couldn't even. Never in a million years would I cause you pain and it's a terrible thing to accuse me of!" Malfoy sat on the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows lowered.
Arwarn suddenly realised what had happened, and it made him giggle out loud. He'd felt guilty. Mr. "˜I am the biggest bastard' Malfoy had actually felt an emotion. "Woah! Don't say big, bad Malfoy is going nice on us? That would be weird! You've never had a guilt trip before so why now? Why be actually pleasant to me, the 'disgusting little half-blood' you so hate?"
Eyes lowered, gazing upon Arwarn though dark lashes, Mortis sighed softly. He reached over and ran his knuckles almost lovingly along the curves and planes of the other boy's cheekbones. Arwarn jumped like a scalded cat, but at the gentle hand continued be began, unbelievable to himself, to relax. However, the fear of what was to come intensified when Mortis slid astride his slender hips, holding him down with his weight. Leaning forward, loosely crossed elbows were placed on Arwarn's pale and slightly trembling chest. Oh Christ, screamed the voice in his mind. You are going to get absolutely minced
Malfoy leaned over, eyes only inches from Arwarn's, and smiled. Thrk-hrk-haired boy thought that something was strange. But he then realised; it was the first time he had seen that Malfoy mouth curved in something that actually resembled a true smile.
"I do not know what I have done to wound you so deeply, Arwarn my love," whispered Malfoy, and the half-blood gaped as the words of the latter part of Mortis' speech actually registered. "I do not know what I have done but let me right my wrong and show you I am terribly sorry."
Hands cupping Arwarn's face, Malfoy placed his warm lips onto those of the boy he adored.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mortis Malfoy is kissing you silly, whispered the little voice that spoke for Arwarn's Subconscious. He's kissing you and you are liking it, aren't you, you mad freak. I know you were too shocked to fight what he was doing, but you didn't have to start enjoying this. Admit it. You like the way his tongue tastes and the feel of his hands in your hair and the silk of his black dress robes against your naked flesh and his body pressing into yours as if he wants you to become one entity and his thighs wrapped around your hips squeezing you as he becomes more enamoured by your warm mouth and your flickering tongue. You like boy boy, you like it...
He's not that bad looking though, is he? he mentally answered the voice. Arwarn found himself willing to forgive everything that Malfoy had done to him. The kiss, though wholly unexpected and at first unwelcomed, made him realise how lacking in love his life had been. He was in love with Aurella, but she was perfect, untouchable and utterly unobtainable. This moment of realisation, of passion and desire, had opened his eyes. God knows what life affirming moment had utterly changed Mortis, but it was okay by him as long as Malfoy worked that magical tongue and stroked his hair and showed him how to love.
The treacherous voice cackled back at him, derision dripping from it's poisoned tongue. He's pretty enough and he's not thinking of hurting you, spat the voice, but this is Mortis Malfoy! Remember? The one who tortured and burned and hated you? Do you really think that someone with such innate evil could truly become the boy he is at the moment? Of course not! His mind is affected by your Glamour - he is not being himself because of that, not because he has become genuinely good. Your naiveté is ridiculous, boy.
Glamour? I didn't know I had a Glamour?
The alcohol has let down the walls in your mind. They were all staring at you, lusting after your body, driven by compulsion. Seeing the wilder side of you as compared to the filthy little half-blood you really are made them want to have you, possess you.
I should get drunk more often then. At least they like me then.
Fool! screeched the voice, sounding like Professor McGonagall that time Arwarn had accidentally set fire to her hat. They don't like you, they want you. There is a world of difference between lust and love. And when the glamour wears off after you have possessed each other, what then? They would hate you more than they do now. They would not only want to see your suffer and torment, but your destruction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Until his own Subconscious kicked in rather viciously, Malfoy was enjoying himself intensely. He could vaguely remember not liking this sexy creature he was snogging senseless, but now all of those thoughts had slipped right out of his sandy-locked head. Again, if he thought very hard (which was difficult considering he was sharing the most incredible kissing session with someone who was several leagues from being unattractive) he knew he had wanted to do something to Arwarn. Hurt him ... that's it, hurt him. But why would he want to hurt him. He was so lovely with his strange hair and emerald eyes and curving, slightly sardonic mouth. Why would he cause pain to such a delicious boy, who's soft icy skin he was tracing his fingertips across and who could do the most wonderful things with his talented tongue?
The other students who had been caught up in the sheer pheromone attack that Arwarn's unleashed Glamour had caused suffered fairly short term affects. Pretty soon after he had started to sober up they had recovered, embarrassed and shocked by the powerful thoughts and needs they had wanted him to fulfil. Malfoy, however, had been affected differently. His hatred of the boy meant that when the Glamour sought him out, he was hit and hit hard. As all sensible people know, there is a hairs breadth between love and hate. Those who merely disliked Arwarn felt sexual desire; Malfoy, the only one who truly despised him, fell head over heels for the boy in black.
Mortis Malfoy! roared the voice of his father. Mortis Malfoy what in the name of the gods are you doing?!
Kissing the sexiest boy I have ever come across, Father. He felt quite unashamed.
He almost felt his Subconscious slap his sharply across the face before continuing. Why are you kissing that disgusting creature, my son? Why are you letting your pure mouth be tainted by the filth that is that boy?
I love him, Father.
The voice dripped with sarcasm. Love? Is that what you call being controlled by this grotesque parody of a human? Don't you know how Elves lure their victims, child? They use they despicable ways, their magic, their Glamour. He is taunting you, laughing at you while you give yourself over to his twisted games. Here you are, kissing him as if is the most important thing in your world and he is mocking you for it.
He would not do that!
He would, my little one, he would. The voice was gentle, almost understanding now. The Elves are vicious. They are cruel. They use and discard those they play with and he is doing it to you. Look at the tales those who have escaped from their realm bring home. The Hunting of the humans, the devouring of mortal flesh and the degradation that is dealt out by their wrath and lust for power.
What shall I do, Father?
Show your strength, the strength of the Malfoy clan. Punish him, humiliate him, make his as disgusting and gross as you know him to be. Make him despise himself and shatter his soul, my little Mortis. Hurt him until he is so maddened with the pain and suffering he cannot try to harm you again. Terrorise him, break him, feed his body and mind to the wolves of self-hatred.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy's hands tightened painfully in Arwarn's black and silver hair as he broke the kiss. In his disgust, the half-blood was smirking at him, as if the kiss and the love he had felt had been utterly planned. How could he, Mortis Malfoy, son of one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world, have been taken in by such filth and depravity? He returned the smile, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant grimace.
"Mortis. You're hurting me." Arwarn lifted his hands to try and untangle the now clenched fists from his hair.
"Good. You deserve it."
Emerald eyes widened and teeth bared in a silent show of agony and terror as a fist was driven violently into his face and throat again and again and again...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain, the sort that only flares when metal is placed too near, skewered his wrists and Malfoy had lashed his ankles to the bed frame so tightly that a numbness was spreading from his aching toes towards his shins. He retched violently, feeling the blood from his shattered nose dripping down his throat. The gore he produced splashed in a crimson fountain onto the once pale green sheets, joining a sticky, congealing puddle that had dripped from his mashed lips while he was unconscious. His face too had become unfeelable after the terrible administrations of the Malfoy punches. At least his teeth were still sitting securely in their sockets, though when testing them with his bloodied tongue, which he must have bitten several times during the beating, some felt worryingly loose.
"Awake then?" Good. I don't want you to miss the fun part." Malfoy dragged Arwarn's head sharply upwards, causing a whimpered of pain to emit from his ruined mouth, and gave a shark-like grin.
"why?" was the only word he could croak as he st int into a face twisted by malice, hatred and something else. Power, though Arwarn's fuzzy brain. He wants to be dominant.
"You ask why?" Malfoy said this almost pleasantly. "Why, you say?" He released his painful hold on the black and silver locks and Arwarn's head thudded into the mattress. He hid his face, trying to protect himself from further blows but glanced as his tormentor paced up and down, robes billowing like the Angel of Death himself.
Suddenly he turned, his face pink with pent up anger. "You DARE to ask me why?!" Laughter, verging on maniacal, poured from his mouth. "You tricked me! You tricked me with your Glamour and I was forced to believe that I, Mortis Malfoy, could be attracted to you. You made me believe that I desired you, even cared for you, and what for. To attain power over me to make me weak and you strong. You seduced me into participating in your sick power games, and you ask me why I punish you? Why did you do that, half-breed? So you could laugh when poor Mortis swallowed the bait? When he abased himself, dragged himself down to your level by wanting something as disgusting as you?! So you could toy with me as your race does with other humans?"
"no....wasn't like that."
"Like hell it wasn't. You need to be shown who exactly is the master. You certainly are not. Yavenaven't even got the decency to be a real Elf, have you? Oh no, you have to be half and half. If you were pure blood at least I could admire you for that. But no, Sandinista has to be a mudblood, and even lower than those impure scum."
"let me go..." he coughed, bringing up another gout of blood.
"No. I am going to demonstrate to you how weak and insignificant you are, you little bastard. You are going to suffer a hell of a lot more before I let you go."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy resumed his pacing, his eyes never leaving the prone, naked form of the boy lashed down on the blood-stained bed. Occasionally he would giggle, hand covering his mouth as a naughty little boy grin stretched his lips into a ghastly rictus of enjoyment, but usually his hands would remain behind his back. He looked for all intents as if he was a professor about to lecture an extremely disruptive pupil in rather differing circumstances.
"Did you know, half-breed, that the greatest form of power a person can have over another is to utterly humiliate him? To truly make yourself the master, you have to break he who has disobeyed. How is this achieved? The breaking of the mind - the subject is made to feel insignificant, weak, almost useless. The shattering of the soul - achieved by the subject coming to the conclusion that they are of no worth. And, of course, the physical. The destruction of the body. This, I am very happy to say, if my favourite part of the whole humiliation process." Malfoy ed, ed, a spiteful expression twisting his usually still features. "I think we shall start with the body."
He advanced towards the prone form, but then clicked his fingers in annoyance. "I knew I had forgotten something!" He rummaged around in the drawer of his cupboard,
but emerged with nothing. "Oh dear," he murmured. "Oh deary deary me. I hoped to make it easier for you but you know what a scatterbrain I am. I forgot to pick some up when I went into Hogsmeade the other day. Have to do without it, I'm afraid. Unfortunately for you it will hurt much more. For me ... I'll just enjoy your screams."
"what you forget" he choked to the blond.
"The Vaseline."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He didn't feel anything as fingers were forcibly inserted deep into his body and nothing pained him while they twisted and scissored, opening him up for easier access during the devastating assault that was to come. Nails slicing into already scarred flesh made no impression as Malfoy digging his fingers into fleshless pale hips, pressed against the still tight opening and forced his entrance. As Malfoy withdrew and lunged again and again pressing deeper all the time, all Arwarn could do was to bite his arms bloody and imagine his Aurella, whispering sweet nothings and calming his fears. She would understand. But the Lady, the Queen, she wouldn't want him now. Why would she want a vile, tainted creature like him when she could have a thousand others who were worthy of her love?
He screamed, not with the physical agony but of the mental torment of losing someone who did at least care and protect him, and the removal of his detachment opened his nerve endings and mind to the nightmare he was presently facing. Sobbing now, realising that it would be better if there was no struggle less pain, Arwarn pressed his face into the bed as the agony sodomised his mind.
"Scream, Sandinista, scream as loudly as you can."
Arwarn resolved to keep his mouth shut, teeth slicing into the already bloodied flesh on his arms to stop himself doing just that, halting himself from finally giving in to Malfoy. Mortis pounded into him, aflame with dominance, superiority and the lusts that these brought. The boy was incredibly tight, but the lubrication that was missing was provided the rips and tears that the assault had inflicted inside. Driving in, hissing with utter pleasure, all he needed was to see the half-breed in utter, perfect agony to complete the humiliation.
"SCREAM, damn you!" hissed Malfoy, pressing in violently, sinking his teeth into the scarred flesh of the boy's back to taste his blood and to brand him. The scar of death on the Arwarn's arm was one of ownership. This was the mark of absolute power. He sucked at the greenish liquid that oozed from the elliptical wound, relishing the taste. But bit again, opening more wounds on Arwarn's rigid torso. A final thrust, stabbing into the heart of the boy's body, was rewarded with a wail of desolation and pain that drove Malfoy over the edge.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Only pausing to remove the cuffs and slash the leather thongs, Malfoy adjusted his dress robes and stalked out, back to his beautiful date and the ball. He could not even be bothered to look back at the battered, bloody boy whose hysterical sobs tore his throat and made even the gods weep.
Wrapping the green Slytherin towel around his waist, he was perversely and childishly pleased that he had arranged the material so that the snake looked like...well...hahaha! Tapping garegarette out of the soft pack, he lit it with someone else's wand and curled up onto the wide windowsill to stare out onto the moors. A boarhound, unmistakably Wolfie, chased invisible hares in the half-moonlight, while Hagrid's shouts tried in vain to call him to heel. The giant groundsman at lot loved the now magnificent young creature as much as its true master. Lucius Malfoy, true to his son's threats, had forced Dumbledore (who had secretly found the incident hilarious and had made sure that Lucius knew about it) to make Arwarn hand him to Hagrid for safe keeping. The boy knew that his most beloved pet would be safely looked after.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Lord, knees curled under him, gazed out into the half-light of the afternoon. Hunting had been impossible; snowfall had meant no scent. Even a vigorous ride on the destrier had not released the tension that he felt in his body. He tucked the wolfskins more closely around him, for the palace was buffeted by the northern winds each winter which made it's interior walls scrim with ice.
Warmth, breath from another being's mouth, trickled onto the back of his frozen neck as hands slid around his chest and caressed him. The Lord closed his eyes, lips curling in pleasure, as a warm, soft tongue drew a line on the salt tasting neck.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy's hands slithered down to the towel, gently freeing it from its position while he nibbled gently at the cropped black hairs cut short to Arwarn's neck.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Something was wrong. His body screeched a warning as his Lady's hands started to massage him gently. Wrong. Something awfully wrong.
A sting of agony bit into his left shoulder, and fingers caressed the top of his left shoulder, dragging fingertips over the sensitive skin.
Think. What is wrong? Pain? No pain with the Lady. Who is causing pain? The boy. Who is the boy? Malfoy....Malfoy.....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Malfoy!" gasped Arwarn, eyes sticky with sleep dragging themselves open. "MALFOY!"
The teeth dug into the this flesh of his shoulder, and he almost screamed. The smell - of course it was Malfoy. The smooth, slightly muscled forearms tightened around him as he started to struggle.
"Admit it, Sandinista, you love it like this!" The drawl in his ear, followed by the flicker of a surprisingly long tongue, made Arwarn snap. One bicep, pinning his right shoulder was near enough....reaching out, sharp, slightly pointed Elven teeth sank into pristine aristocratic Malfoy flesh and hung on.
Screaming, Mortis pushed Arwarn from the sill. "You stupid fool! You imbecile half-blood!"
"At least I wasn't the one that was touching you up when you were asleep!"
"You had a fucking hard on, Sandinista!" taunted Malfoy, still clutching his bruised arm. "The biggest one I've ever seen!"
"And I bet you've seen enough in your time!"
It was sudden, but Malfoy flung himself towards Arwarn, hissing with fury. Knuckles collided with cheekbone, and all the younger boy saw before he collapsed into the darkness was Malfoy sucking his fingers and cursing all the gods he could come up with.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain. Pain had taken residence in his body, along with his brother, Agony. Fury had long since departed, leaving behind the soggy mass of Fear that now crushed his chest and smoked up his brain.
Wrists....sore stripes of pain surrounded each hand and if they moved fire scorched through his flesh. His face had numbed to a throb, but there was some damage there. Lips had sliced open on teeth. The metallic taste of the coppery blood gave a pang of homesickness and the desire for raw meat. Am face up. Good.. Try to get up - can't move. Something weighing down on body.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy surveyed his handiwork. He particularly liked the handcuffs, he mused, watching the skin around the boy's wrists pinken and crisp. Arwarn's ankles were lashed to the bed with thin thongs of leather.
God, the boy was beautiful; a tainted, wanton creature, only good enough for whorish sex and nothing more. Malfoy had always considered himself a connoisseur of flesh, but he had to admit that the half-breed, even when unconscious, was giving out more sensual signals than a roomful of fourth form girls. Watching him, trapped, helpless, ready for him to take as he desired, there was a strange nobility about him, an animalistic magnificence in his refusal to give in to Mortis. Malfoy, in situation with other boys, knew they would surrender. his his case...who knew?
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, other thoughts were blissfully entering his mind, slowly eating all of the nasty little ideas he had and replacing them with a thin, silver mist of unknowing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A click and the burning in his arms dulled to a nag. The silent sound of a knife slashing through leather and he could move his ankles. Still dazed, Arwarn groaned. Pain was gone, but he didn't want to move or else he would tempt wrath.
He was shocked into opening his eyes by the single finger that ran down his cheek and gently caressed his lips. The finger, joined by one of its brothers, slipped across his chin and onto the soft skin of his throat. For one crazy moment, he thought that Malfoy was going to take his pulse.
Green eyes open wide in utter astonishment, Arwarn stared into the face of his captor. isbeisbelief he saw the gentle, almost soppy look, causing the icy eyes to melt and be replaced by nothing but kindness. He wet his painfully cracked lips, trying to articulate, and managed just to croak.
"What the hell you do to me, Malfoy?" he whispered, gently wincing as he touched the weals on his wrists.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Arwarn's voice rose with disbelief. "You soak me, try and wank me off, hit me when I don't respond and then tie me up like the last turkey in the shop and you say you did nothing!?" He shook his head with incredulity.
"Nothing," replied Malfoy.
Arwarn, ever suspicious, eyed the strange look on his enemy's face with something approaching worry. Malfoy, being nice to him. There had to be some devilry behind this...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Watching the boy that lay angry, unamused and somewhat apprehensive, Mortis realised that he just wanted to kiss him. Nothing else entered his head apart from the overwhelming urge to place his own lips on the soft, albeit rather dry lips of Arwarn and kiss all the fear and pain away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arwarn sat up, eyes staring into Malfoys. "Not even a little fiddle or a lick or suck anywhere?" He had to admit that no part of his body was sore, so Malfoy was probably telling the truth. Probably being the operative word.
The ghost of a smile floated across the pale Patrician features. "Not even a nibble. What do you take me for, Arwarn? Some kind of sadist sex offender?"
Mouth falling open at the temerity of the statement, the dark head cocked to one side. "Why, Malfoy? Normally you would have had me without any quibbles at all. Why?"
Malfoy blushed, for the first time that Arwarn had ever seen him do properly. His entire face was embarrassed pink. "How could you even think I would do such a thing! I wouldn't do anything to you. As if I'd hurt you!"
Arwarn gave him a searching look. This was just getting too strange and Malfoy was acting positively weird. He could smell something fishy. Indeed this was so fishy that it was approaching the size of a whale shark fishy. "Yeah, right Mortis. Now where have you hidden the razor blades then." It was the first time he had used his enemy's name, and it felt strange on his tongue.
Anger and despair flared in those glacial eyes. "How can you say such evil things! I wouldn't harm you, couldn't even. Never in a million years would I cause you pain and it's a terrible thing to accuse me of!" Malfoy sat on the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows lowered.
Arwarn suddenly realised what had happened, and it made him giggle out loud. He'd felt guilty. Mr. "˜I am the biggest bastard' Malfoy had actually felt an emotion. "Woah! Don't say big, bad Malfoy is going nice on us? That would be weird! You've never had a guilt trip before so why now? Why be actually pleasant to me, the 'disgusting little half-blood' you so hate?"
Eyes lowered, gazing upon Arwarn though dark lashes, Mortis sighed softly. He reached over and ran his knuckles almost lovingly along the curves and planes of the other boy's cheekbones. Arwarn jumped like a scalded cat, but at the gentle hand continued be began, unbelievable to himself, to relax. However, the fear of what was to come intensified when Mortis slid astride his slender hips, holding him down with his weight. Leaning forward, loosely crossed elbows were placed on Arwarn's pale and slightly trembling chest. Oh Christ, screamed the voice in his mind. You are going to get absolutely minced
Malfoy leaned over, eyes only inches from Arwarn's, and smiled. Thrk-hrk-haired boy thought that something was strange. But he then realised; it was the first time he had seen that Malfoy mouth curved in something that actually resembled a true smile.
"I do not know what I have done to wound you so deeply, Arwarn my love," whispered Malfoy, and the half-blood gaped as the words of the latter part of Mortis' speech actually registered. "I do not know what I have done but let me right my wrong and show you I am terribly sorry."
Hands cupping Arwarn's face, Malfoy placed his warm lips onto those of the boy he adored.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mortis Malfoy is kissing you silly, whispered the little voice that spoke for Arwarn's Subconscious. He's kissing you and you are liking it, aren't you, you mad freak. I know you were too shocked to fight what he was doing, but you didn't have to start enjoying this. Admit it. You like the way his tongue tastes and the feel of his hands in your hair and the silk of his black dress robes against your naked flesh and his body pressing into yours as if he wants you to become one entity and his thighs wrapped around your hips squeezing you as he becomes more enamoured by your warm mouth and your flickering tongue. You like boy boy, you like it...
He's not that bad looking though, is he? he mentally answered the voice. Arwarn found himself willing to forgive everything that Malfoy had done to him. The kiss, though wholly unexpected and at first unwelcomed, made him realise how lacking in love his life had been. He was in love with Aurella, but she was perfect, untouchable and utterly unobtainable. This moment of realisation, of passion and desire, had opened his eyes. God knows what life affirming moment had utterly changed Mortis, but it was okay by him as long as Malfoy worked that magical tongue and stroked his hair and showed him how to love.
The treacherous voice cackled back at him, derision dripping from it's poisoned tongue. He's pretty enough and he's not thinking of hurting you, spat the voice, but this is Mortis Malfoy! Remember? The one who tortured and burned and hated you? Do you really think that someone with such innate evil could truly become the boy he is at the moment? Of course not! His mind is affected by your Glamour - he is not being himself because of that, not because he has become genuinely good. Your naiveté is ridiculous, boy.
Glamour? I didn't know I had a Glamour?
The alcohol has let down the walls in your mind. They were all staring at you, lusting after your body, driven by compulsion. Seeing the wilder side of you as compared to the filthy little half-blood you really are made them want to have you, possess you.
I should get drunk more often then. At least they like me then.
Fool! screeched the voice, sounding like Professor McGonagall that time Arwarn had accidentally set fire to her hat. They don't like you, they want you. There is a world of difference between lust and love. And when the glamour wears off after you have possessed each other, what then? They would hate you more than they do now. They would not only want to see your suffer and torment, but your destruction.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Until his own Subconscious kicked in rather viciously, Malfoy was enjoying himself intensely. He could vaguely remember not liking this sexy creature he was snogging senseless, but now all of those thoughts had slipped right out of his sandy-locked head. Again, if he thought very hard (which was difficult considering he was sharing the most incredible kissing session with someone who was several leagues from being unattractive) he knew he had wanted to do something to Arwarn. Hurt him ... that's it, hurt him. But why would he want to hurt him. He was so lovely with his strange hair and emerald eyes and curving, slightly sardonic mouth. Why would he cause pain to such a delicious boy, who's soft icy skin he was tracing his fingertips across and who could do the most wonderful things with his talented tongue?
The other students who had been caught up in the sheer pheromone attack that Arwarn's unleashed Glamour had caused suffered fairly short term affects. Pretty soon after he had started to sober up they had recovered, embarrassed and shocked by the powerful thoughts and needs they had wanted him to fulfil. Malfoy, however, had been affected differently. His hatred of the boy meant that when the Glamour sought him out, he was hit and hit hard. As all sensible people know, there is a hairs breadth between love and hate. Those who merely disliked Arwarn felt sexual desire; Malfoy, the only one who truly despised him, fell head over heels for the boy in black.
Mortis Malfoy! roared the voice of his father. Mortis Malfoy what in the name of the gods are you doing?!
Kissing the sexiest boy I have ever come across, Father. He felt quite unashamed.
He almost felt his Subconscious slap his sharply across the face before continuing. Why are you kissing that disgusting creature, my son? Why are you letting your pure mouth be tainted by the filth that is that boy?
I love him, Father.
The voice dripped with sarcasm. Love? Is that what you call being controlled by this grotesque parody of a human? Don't you know how Elves lure their victims, child? They use they despicable ways, their magic, their Glamour. He is taunting you, laughing at you while you give yourself over to his twisted games. Here you are, kissing him as if is the most important thing in your world and he is mocking you for it.
He would not do that!
He would, my little one, he would. The voice was gentle, almost understanding now. The Elves are vicious. They are cruel. They use and discard those they play with and he is doing it to you. Look at the tales those who have escaped from their realm bring home. The Hunting of the humans, the devouring of mortal flesh and the degradation that is dealt out by their wrath and lust for power.
What shall I do, Father?
Show your strength, the strength of the Malfoy clan. Punish him, humiliate him, make his as disgusting and gross as you know him to be. Make him despise himself and shatter his soul, my little Mortis. Hurt him until he is so maddened with the pain and suffering he cannot try to harm you again. Terrorise him, break him, feed his body and mind to the wolves of self-hatred.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy's hands tightened painfully in Arwarn's black and silver hair as he broke the kiss. In his disgust, the half-blood was smirking at him, as if the kiss and the love he had felt had been utterly planned. How could he, Mortis Malfoy, son of one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world, have been taken in by such filth and depravity? He returned the smile, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant grimace.
"Mortis. You're hurting me." Arwarn lifted his hands to try and untangle the now clenched fists from his hair.
"Good. You deserve it."
Emerald eyes widened and teeth bared in a silent show of agony and terror as a fist was driven violently into his face and throat again and again and again...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain, the sort that only flares when metal is placed too near, skewered his wrists and Malfoy had lashed his ankles to the bed frame so tightly that a numbness was spreading from his aching toes towards his shins. He retched violently, feeling the blood from his shattered nose dripping down his throat. The gore he produced splashed in a crimson fountain onto the once pale green sheets, joining a sticky, congealing puddle that had dripped from his mashed lips while he was unconscious. His face too had become unfeelable after the terrible administrations of the Malfoy punches. At least his teeth were still sitting securely in their sockets, though when testing them with his bloodied tongue, which he must have bitten several times during the beating, some felt worryingly loose.
"Awake then?" Good. I don't want you to miss the fun part." Malfoy dragged Arwarn's head sharply upwards, causing a whimpered of pain to emit from his ruined mouth, and gave a shark-like grin.
"why?" was the only word he could croak as he st int into a face twisted by malice, hatred and something else. Power, though Arwarn's fuzzy brain. He wants to be dominant.
"You ask why?" Malfoy said this almost pleasantly. "Why, you say?" He released his painful hold on the black and silver locks and Arwarn's head thudded into the mattress. He hid his face, trying to protect himself from further blows but glanced as his tormentor paced up and down, robes billowing like the Angel of Death himself.
Suddenly he turned, his face pink with pent up anger. "You DARE to ask me why?!" Laughter, verging on maniacal, poured from his mouth. "You tricked me! You tricked me with your Glamour and I was forced to believe that I, Mortis Malfoy, could be attracted to you. You made me believe that I desired you, even cared for you, and what for. To attain power over me to make me weak and you strong. You seduced me into participating in your sick power games, and you ask me why I punish you? Why did you do that, half-breed? So you could laugh when poor Mortis swallowed the bait? When he abased himself, dragged himself down to your level by wanting something as disgusting as you?! So you could toy with me as your race does with other humans?"
"no....wasn't like that."
"Like hell it wasn't. You need to be shown who exactly is the master. You certainly are not. Yavenaven't even got the decency to be a real Elf, have you? Oh no, you have to be half and half. If you were pure blood at least I could admire you for that. But no, Sandinista has to be a mudblood, and even lower than those impure scum."
"let me go..." he coughed, bringing up another gout of blood.
"No. I am going to demonstrate to you how weak and insignificant you are, you little bastard. You are going to suffer a hell of a lot more before I let you go."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Malfoy resumed his pacing, his eyes never leaving the prone, naked form of the boy lashed down on the blood-stained bed. Occasionally he would giggle, hand covering his mouth as a naughty little boy grin stretched his lips into a ghastly rictus of enjoyment, but usually his hands would remain behind his back. He looked for all intents as if he was a professor about to lecture an extremely disruptive pupil in rather differing circumstances.
"Did you know, half-breed, that the greatest form of power a person can have over another is to utterly humiliate him? To truly make yourself the master, you have to break he who has disobeyed. How is this achieved? The breaking of the mind - the subject is made to feel insignificant, weak, almost useless. The shattering of the soul - achieved by the subject coming to the conclusion that they are of no worth. And, of course, the physical. The destruction of the body. This, I am very happy to say, if my favourite part of the whole humiliation process." Malfoy ed, ed, a spiteful expression twisting his usually still features. "I think we shall start with the body."
He advanced towards the prone form, but then clicked his fingers in annoyance. "I knew I had forgotten something!" He rummaged around in the drawer of his cupboard,
but emerged with nothing. "Oh dear," he murmured. "Oh deary deary me. I hoped to make it easier for you but you know what a scatterbrain I am. I forgot to pick some up when I went into Hogsmeade the other day. Have to do without it, I'm afraid. Unfortunately for you it will hurt much more. For me ... I'll just enjoy your screams."
"what you forget" he choked to the blond.
"The Vaseline."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He didn't feel anything as fingers were forcibly inserted deep into his body and nothing pained him while they twisted and scissored, opening him up for easier access during the devastating assault that was to come. Nails slicing into already scarred flesh made no impression as Malfoy digging his fingers into fleshless pale hips, pressed against the still tight opening and forced his entrance. As Malfoy withdrew and lunged again and again pressing deeper all the time, all Arwarn could do was to bite his arms bloody and imagine his Aurella, whispering sweet nothings and calming his fears. She would understand. But the Lady, the Queen, she wouldn't want him now. Why would she want a vile, tainted creature like him when she could have a thousand others who were worthy of her love?
He screamed, not with the physical agony but of the mental torment of losing someone who did at least care and protect him, and the removal of his detachment opened his nerve endings and mind to the nightmare he was presently facing. Sobbing now, realising that it would be better if there was no struggle less pain, Arwarn pressed his face into the bed as the agony sodomised his mind.
"Scream, Sandinista, scream as loudly as you can."
Arwarn resolved to keep his mouth shut, teeth slicing into the already bloodied flesh on his arms to stop himself doing just that, halting himself from finally giving in to Malfoy. Mortis pounded into him, aflame with dominance, superiority and the lusts that these brought. The boy was incredibly tight, but the lubrication that was missing was provided the rips and tears that the assault had inflicted inside. Driving in, hissing with utter pleasure, all he needed was to see the half-breed in utter, perfect agony to complete the humiliation.
"SCREAM, damn you!" hissed Malfoy, pressing in violently, sinking his teeth into the scarred flesh of the boy's back to taste his blood and to brand him. The scar of death on the Arwarn's arm was one of ownership. This was the mark of absolute power. He sucked at the greenish liquid that oozed from the elliptical wound, relishing the taste. But bit again, opening more wounds on Arwarn's rigid torso. A final thrust, stabbing into the heart of the boy's body, was rewarded with a wail of desolation and pain that drove Malfoy over the edge.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Only pausing to remove the cuffs and slash the leather thongs, Malfoy adjusted his dress robes and stalked out, back to his beautiful date and the ball. He could not even be bothered to look back at the battered, bloody boy whose hysterical sobs tore his throat and made even the gods weep.