The Erotics of Power
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
8,053
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
8,053
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Harry Potter or its characters, nor do I profit from writing this.
The Erotics of Power
Title: The Erotics of Power
Characters: It's complicated but involves Voldemort, Harry, Draco, and Luna
Genres: Darkfic, Sadistic noncon (that will no doubt lead to PTSD for all concerned)
Warnings: See genres. This is nasty. Don't read it if you don't like darkfic.
Voldemort resented those who claimed his merciless, ruthless nature left him no pleasure in sport. Though he was no maniacal pervert, like the wildly lustful Bellatrix Lastrange or the tersely sadistic Lucius Malfoy, still, he knew well both the erotics of power and the power of erotics. And, he prided himself, he knew patience better than any other being, living, dead, or resurrected. If he could not reach Harry Potter directly, he could reach and use his mind. And wasn't the mind where passion most truly resided. He grinned, eyes glinting in the darkness as he focused his energy and shoved Draco's sloppy mouth further down onto his writhing shaft.
Harry's pale adolescent flesh glistened with sweat as he watched his wide-eyed prey, hard, slender cock in hand and slit-eyed lust in his gaze. He had never felt quite so full of power, nor wanted it so badly. He finished binding the girl's slender arms overhead. How easy it was to coax her away from the others. How little she resisted when he gagged her. He grinned, snakelike, at how she balanced on her little toes. Yet, he must hurry. Enjoying his handiwork slowly and thoroughly was a delight, but Hermione or Ron or even Ginny might stumble upon his little hiding place at any moment. He must not pause too long to admire the golden-haired muse of his debauchery before he made full use of her.
Luna Lovegood stared unblinking at the glow within the locket around Harry's neck. She made not a sound as he approached. His intent was clear, but she would not cry out through the rag stuffed into her mouth. Somehow, everything would be all right. Harry didn't mean to be doing this. That was what mattered.
Neither knowing nor caring why, Harry spread and entered his prey while Voldemort arched and burst into Draco's obedient, trembling mouth. "Good boy," he spat, delighting in the moment for its piquancy. Triumphs, big and small, must always be savored.
Characters: It's complicated but involves Voldemort, Harry, Draco, and Luna
Genres: Darkfic, Sadistic noncon (that will no doubt lead to PTSD for all concerned)
Warnings: See genres. This is nasty. Don't read it if you don't like darkfic.
Voldemort resented those who claimed his merciless, ruthless nature left him no pleasure in sport. Though he was no maniacal pervert, like the wildly lustful Bellatrix Lastrange or the tersely sadistic Lucius Malfoy, still, he knew well both the erotics of power and the power of erotics. And, he prided himself, he knew patience better than any other being, living, dead, or resurrected. If he could not reach Harry Potter directly, he could reach and use his mind. And wasn't the mind where passion most truly resided. He grinned, eyes glinting in the darkness as he focused his energy and shoved Draco's sloppy mouth further down onto his writhing shaft.
Harry's pale adolescent flesh glistened with sweat as he watched his wide-eyed prey, hard, slender cock in hand and slit-eyed lust in his gaze. He had never felt quite so full of power, nor wanted it so badly. He finished binding the girl's slender arms overhead. How easy it was to coax her away from the others. How little she resisted when he gagged her. He grinned, snakelike, at how she balanced on her little toes. Yet, he must hurry. Enjoying his handiwork slowly and thoroughly was a delight, but Hermione or Ron or even Ginny might stumble upon his little hiding place at any moment. He must not pause too long to admire the golden-haired muse of his debauchery before he made full use of her.
Luna Lovegood stared unblinking at the glow within the locket around Harry's neck. She made not a sound as he approached. His intent was clear, but she would not cry out through the rag stuffed into her mouth. Somehow, everything would be all right. Harry didn't mean to be doing this. That was what mattered.
Neither knowing nor caring why, Harry spread and entered his prey while Voldemort arched and burst into Draco's obedient, trembling mouth. "Good boy," he spat, delighting in the moment for its piquancy. Triumphs, big and small, must always be savored.