Of Blood and Lust and need and want
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,986
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,986
Reviews:
4
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.
Of Blood and Lust
Title: Of Blood and Lust
Author: flaming_jay
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The good lady JKR owns these boys, though a lot less bloody.
You hold his glasses in your hand the next time he comes and he takes them from you without any indication of thanks or admission he left them on purpose, but you know he did, and you know that they are not the reason he came back. A little smug smile flits across your face and you quickly hide it or try to disguise it, but too late, he\'s seen it and now there\'ll be hell to pay.
You know him well enough now that if you even think you have some hold over him, he punishes you to within an inch of your life, and you like the pain, you love the pain, but he breaks you when he punishes you. He shatters every scrap of dignity, every long held secret place that hides from the world, and he does it because he can, because sometimes you get too big for your boots and assume that he cares. He abuses you, fucks you and leaves you alone to rebuild your shattered world, to put yourself back together once more. You do, every time it gets harder, but you do it anyway and then try so hard to never give any indication that you want him, need him, or God forbid, love him.
But now, before you are really aware of what is happening he has you strung up, hanging from the ceiling, bound tightly, arms above your head. The lash of the whip sends you screaming and it\'s wonderful the pain, and the blood dripping down your legs feels warm and thick and he cuts your back again and again with the whip and you scream, twisting and struggling, into the echoes until they blend into one.
There are tears pouring down your cheeks, they make your eyes look huge in your face and you\'re sobbing loudly, uncaring if he hears you. Your struggles ceased long ago and you\'re hanging there, held up by your wrists, which are raw and bleeding, and they sting, the bindings biting into the raw flesh. When he stops with the whip and grabs your chin roughly to look at you, you whimper and blink trying to clear your eyes, but that only manages to allow the tears to flow more freely down your blotched face. You\'ve bitten your lips so many times that they’re swollen and bruised and there is a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth.
The haze you see before your eyes isn\'t just tears, its pain; it surrounds you, and there is nothing else to your world, but blood and pain and arousal. He fucks you hard and you hear his jagged voice telling you that he cares nothing for you, he doesn\'t, you\'re his whore, his toy, his everything, his to use and abuse as he sees fit. He tells you he doesn\'t care if you live or die, he doesn\'t, and if you think that he will come again, well he might not, he doesn\'t need you, doesn\'t want you, doesn\'t dream of you, doesn\'t have a second in the day when he doesn\'t think about you. He doesn\'t.
But he\'s pushing hard and painfully into you and you\'re so delirious from the pain, your head lolls onto your shoulder and you feel weak, the arousal still beating in your chest, thrumming along your skin, pushing your lifeblood through the gashes and cuts on your back, making you slippery and hard for Harry to hold. His fingers dig into your blood-soaked skin and you see spots before your eyes. But you need this lesson, you need this pain, it’s an addiction with you; it’s raw and it’s real, the only real thing you have from Harry and you’ll cling to it with everything that you have. It’s yours. His lessons are harsh and they’re soul destroying but you need that, you deserve that, you ache for that mind shattering climax that only he brings.
Your body is twitching, jerking into his of it’s own accord, straining to get more, harder, faster and deeper. Your legs are wrapped tightly around him as his grip slips and slides and falters and you almost scream in ecstasy, gasping and sobbing and falling headlong into someplace you crave. He tells you to come and with the last ounce of energy you posses you do, shaking, the intensity of the pain scorching across your back, in your arms, too much for you. You manage to hold yourself together as he growls and comes hard into you. You writhe and whimper one more time as everything fades to black around you. And your last conscious thought is that you are sure there are no glasses in your hand this time.
Some time later you wake aching and stiff, flat on your stomach, something warm and soothing across your back. You are surprised and amazed when you open your eyes and turn your head to find yourself staring into two green eyes. You smile, and ask him why he\'s still here. He looks at you with a look that speaks what his lips are afraid to, but he says three words and those three words are all you need to hear.
You are mine.
Author: flaming_jay
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The good lady JKR owns these boys, though a lot less bloody.
You hold his glasses in your hand the next time he comes and he takes them from you without any indication of thanks or admission he left them on purpose, but you know he did, and you know that they are not the reason he came back. A little smug smile flits across your face and you quickly hide it or try to disguise it, but too late, he\'s seen it and now there\'ll be hell to pay.
You know him well enough now that if you even think you have some hold over him, he punishes you to within an inch of your life, and you like the pain, you love the pain, but he breaks you when he punishes you. He shatters every scrap of dignity, every long held secret place that hides from the world, and he does it because he can, because sometimes you get too big for your boots and assume that he cares. He abuses you, fucks you and leaves you alone to rebuild your shattered world, to put yourself back together once more. You do, every time it gets harder, but you do it anyway and then try so hard to never give any indication that you want him, need him, or God forbid, love him.
But now, before you are really aware of what is happening he has you strung up, hanging from the ceiling, bound tightly, arms above your head. The lash of the whip sends you screaming and it\'s wonderful the pain, and the blood dripping down your legs feels warm and thick and he cuts your back again and again with the whip and you scream, twisting and struggling, into the echoes until they blend into one.
There are tears pouring down your cheeks, they make your eyes look huge in your face and you\'re sobbing loudly, uncaring if he hears you. Your struggles ceased long ago and you\'re hanging there, held up by your wrists, which are raw and bleeding, and they sting, the bindings biting into the raw flesh. When he stops with the whip and grabs your chin roughly to look at you, you whimper and blink trying to clear your eyes, but that only manages to allow the tears to flow more freely down your blotched face. You\'ve bitten your lips so many times that they’re swollen and bruised and there is a trickle of blood from the corner of your mouth.
The haze you see before your eyes isn\'t just tears, its pain; it surrounds you, and there is nothing else to your world, but blood and pain and arousal. He fucks you hard and you hear his jagged voice telling you that he cares nothing for you, he doesn\'t, you\'re his whore, his toy, his everything, his to use and abuse as he sees fit. He tells you he doesn\'t care if you live or die, he doesn\'t, and if you think that he will come again, well he might not, he doesn\'t need you, doesn\'t want you, doesn\'t dream of you, doesn\'t have a second in the day when he doesn\'t think about you. He doesn\'t.
But he\'s pushing hard and painfully into you and you\'re so delirious from the pain, your head lolls onto your shoulder and you feel weak, the arousal still beating in your chest, thrumming along your skin, pushing your lifeblood through the gashes and cuts on your back, making you slippery and hard for Harry to hold. His fingers dig into your blood-soaked skin and you see spots before your eyes. But you need this lesson, you need this pain, it’s an addiction with you; it’s raw and it’s real, the only real thing you have from Harry and you’ll cling to it with everything that you have. It’s yours. His lessons are harsh and they’re soul destroying but you need that, you deserve that, you ache for that mind shattering climax that only he brings.
Your body is twitching, jerking into his of it’s own accord, straining to get more, harder, faster and deeper. Your legs are wrapped tightly around him as his grip slips and slides and falters and you almost scream in ecstasy, gasping and sobbing and falling headlong into someplace you crave. He tells you to come and with the last ounce of energy you posses you do, shaking, the intensity of the pain scorching across your back, in your arms, too much for you. You manage to hold yourself together as he growls and comes hard into you. You writhe and whimper one more time as everything fades to black around you. And your last conscious thought is that you are sure there are no glasses in your hand this time.
Some time later you wake aching and stiff, flat on your stomach, something warm and soothing across your back. You are surprised and amazed when you open your eyes and turn your head to find yourself staring into two green eyes. You smile, and ask him why he\'s still here. He looks at you with a look that speaks what his lips are afraid to, but he says three words and those three words are all you need to hear.
You are mine.