With Teeth

What if this whole crusade\'s

A charade

And behind it all there\'s a price to be paid

For the blood

On which we dine



--



“Harry, where are you going?”



Harry paused mid-step on his trek away from the table.



“I’ve got a potions essay to write…”



He imagined he fumbled over the words, but really the lie rolled effortlessly from his lips.



“We were all going to work on it after dinner, mate. Remember?”



Yeah, I ate a really big lunch. I’m just not hungry. I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”



He forced himself not to run away from the hall, and heard Hermione mumble to herself:



“No he didn’t, he hardly touched any of it.”



He closed his eyes tight really not wanting to get caught, but he made it all the way out of the hall without a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t like lying to his friends, but he really couldn’t take their conversations anymore. He fingered the charm around his neck, almost hiding under the edge of his collar. The charm around his neck was one of their rules.



“Rules…”



A smile twitched his lips at the memory the word brought him.





**





Harry backed away from Draco’s advance, wary of the almost predatory smile on his lips. Wary, and very keenly aware. His back hit the desk just as Draco closed in.



“What are you-“



“Relax, Potter. I told you, I don’t want your nerves getting the best of you.”



He trailed fingertips up Harry’s arms, noticing his dilated pupils and shallow breaths.



“M-Malfoy…”



“Now there are going to be some rules, Potter.”



Harry swallowed thickly, head buzzing.



“Rules?”



Draco leaned forward, feeling Harry tense. He nosed the delicate skin of his neck, testing sensitivity and earning a whoosh of breath over his ear as Harry let it go.



“Yes, rules,” before he retraced the path his nose took with the tip of his tongue.



The whimper, his reward, was barely noticeable but it was there. His tongue found Harry’s earlobe, pulling into his mouth. He sucked, tugging gently, eliciting a slightly more concrete whine.



“Malfoy…”



“The first rule,” he let go but kept his proximity, breathing into Harry’s ear, “is that you will no longer call me ‘Malfoy’.”



Harry’s brain fought to push through the fog Draco’s closeness created. He stumbled over his lips and tongue before settling on:



“W-what am I supposed to call you?”



“For now, you will refer to me as ‘sir’.”



“Sir? In public?”



The fog was lifting and Harry was growing uncomfortable. He shrunk in upon himself, feeling cold.



“No, not in public, and not tonight;” Another nip below his earlobe, another finger trailing down his arm, “Draco.”



The idea of calling the blonde by his first name would have been off-putting, but the nibble on his collar-bone sent a volley of electric spikes under his skin effectively making his legs feel like jello.



The lips left his neck, and Harry thought he might protest. The situation, the name, the cold as Malfoy (no, Draco) retreated; but then he felt a gentle hand on his jaw, guiding him to look forward into piercing blue eyes. The shock only strengthened when lips pressed softly against his own, but everything melted away as the other nibbled on his lower-lip.



Once Draco was satisfied with the distraction of the other boy’s nerves, he returned to his neck and mused that he rather liked the smell.



“Another rule:”



“Rule…”



The shaky breath uttered as teeth scraped the juncture between neck and shoulder and a soft tongue soothed away the bite.



“You will do what I say, when I say.”



Another lave of an earlobe.



“And there will be consequences for disobeying.”



Harry swallowed thickly doing his best to catalogue his orders, but the fingers tracing up his sides (and sliding under his shirt) made it impossible.



“An-anything?”



Thumbs brushed nipples, receiving another shaky gasp.



“This is about trust, Harry. That’s what you want, isn’t it? A safe place to be who you want to be, knowing no one will take advantage of you?”



Harry muddled through the words, deciding they made sense.



“O-okay.”



Sharp nails drug down sensitive flesh; fresh goose bumps and a small moan the reward.



“There will be a safe-word; a failsafe, if you truly do not feel comfortable with something,” he pulled back slightly and stared into the other’s eyes, “anything.”



Harry nodded his understanding. Draco returned to his task of turning him into a babbling puddle of goo (almost there).



“Something silly. Able to break the mood quickly.”



Draco missed the smirk on the other boy’s lips, but Harry’s response stopped him in his tracks.



“How about ‘ferret’?”



A half smile followed a quirk of an eyebrow; amusement, acceptance, approval; a nod.



“Ferret will do wonderfully. Do not forget it.”



Fingers returned to his sides playing the edge of the shirt up, exposing more and more skin. Another kiss, another swipe of the tongue to his neck, and the shirt disappeared landing not far away but still out of reach.



More nibbling of a collar-bone, more fingernails scraping skin, and Draco was aware of how aroused he was. Wanting Harry to be just as aware he stepped even closer, molding his form to the other’s; an extra tiny shove with his hips, and he bit back the smallest of verbal approvals at the contact simultaneously appreciating the keen so close to his ear.



“I might just enjoy this, Potter.”



Harry blushed furiously at the almost compliment, understanding the situation he was in.



The desk Harry had ended up sitting on provided just the right height and Draco gave another tiny shove with his hips, sliding along the body against him. Harry’s breathing sped with each shove, a fine whimper issuing from his throat.



“Draco-“



The whine seemed to prickle under the blonde’s skin, surprising him enough to regain his head. Remembering what he was there for he dropped lower, leaving a wet trail from his tongue down until he was on his knees.



The cool air hit Harry’s skin and he delighted in the contrast of hot and cold. It was only when he felt the tug at the fastenings of his pants that he jumped, hands flying to cover the blonde’s. He looked into blue eyes, panicked and pleading; Too much, too fast.



Draco rose, gently kissing Harry fully on the lips.



“Trust, remember Harry? We have an agreement.”



Harry hesitated, slowly nodding. The fear remained visible in his eyes as Draco resumed his attempts at getting Harry out of his pants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband pulling everything down, sliding it over his feet and tossing it to join the shirt.



Draco slid his hands up Harry’s legs, enlivening nerves and leaving a trail of goose-bumps in his wake. He took in the sight before him, musing how well quidditch had treated the other boy, and noticed the white lines along the thigh. A few bright red ones were sporadically placed, accenting the jut of the hips. He memorized each line; where it was and what it looked like, and moved his fingers along Harry’s stomach.



Harry had held his breath as his clothes were removed, shaking violently and trying his hardest to keep it together, when he felt heat and pressure on his VERY erect cock. His breath left his lungs so violently he went cross-eyed for just a moment, and he opened his eyes to find himself looking into blue once again.



“You’re ready…”



It was both a statement and a question. He palmed Harry’s length, waiting for an answer that wasn’t required. Harry’s eyes fluttered dangerously and the nod was almost non-existent, but Draco seemed to have already established a telepathic connection with the other boy. He read the other body so well he knew things Harry had never dreamed he’d discover.

At the acquiesce Draco dropped to his knees once more and pulled Harry forward gently, until he was almost standing. He guided Harry’s erection until it touched his lips, Harry keening at the contact. Licking forcefully just under the head brought a shout of surprise, for Harry had his eyes squeezed tightly shut again.



Pulling the entire length full into his mouth and down his throat (a practiced skill), Draco moved his tongue slightly trying to learn his way around the particular cock in his mouth.



Pulling back and sucking not too harshly on just the head elicited the sweetest moan Draco had ever heard a partner make. He noticed the white-knuckled grasp on the edge of the table, and the sweat clinging to Harry’s brow. His breaths were shallow as Draco worked another pass. Deciding that Harry was sufficiently out of his brain, he took the next step.



Reaching up and gently rolling Harry’s balls received a shudder, and Draco moved slowly, drawing out his time. He trailed a finger along Harry’s entrance and Harry’s eyes flew open at the contact, but the tongue around him stopped any thought of protesting.



Harry heard the sliding of a drawer though the buzz, and the finger returned just a moment later, this time cold and sick.



“D-Draco…”



The probe went unanswered as the mouth continued working on him slowly, almost lazily. The finger pressed in and Harry’s body tried to reject the advance, but it managed in and gently stroked the walls of the canal.



Harry’s breathing evened, leading Draco to push further; more slick, more fingers. Deeper, they pushed, falling into a lazy circle and searching to find that one spot that would:



“Draco!”



The shout forced through gritted teeth made Draco look up, a smirk planted in his eyes. Another rub brought another shout-turned-whine, the cue for another added finger. Not wanting to take too long, Draco rose back to his feet smiling to himself over Harry’s whimpered protest to the mouth leaving his crotch.



“Lay back, just to the edge of the desk.”



The husk in Draco’s voice was not lost on Harry, but he was in no position to point it out. He organized himself on the desk, following Draco’s order best he could. When Draco reached out for his hips, settling him where he wanted him, a strange mix of longing and confusion nipped at his consciousness. He thought he might know what was coming next, but he truly did not want to assume anything. The hand moving his feet up to rest on shoulders didn’t faze him. Only when he felt something once more at his opening (Draco’s hands mostly in plain view) did he throw a hand out again, over Draco’s.



He didn’t say anything this time, forcing himself to trust the blonde in such a position to take advantage of him. He forced his breaths to an even, if deep, cycle. His blink seemed to be the cue for Draco to continue, for that is exactly what he did. Moving slowly in, watching Harry’s face for clues to what he was feeling, Draco bit his lip trying not to close his eyes and surrender to the heat and pressure.



“Fuck Potter,” he spat out.



Harry peeked through his lashes, the squint his best way of dealing with the dull burn he felt in his back-side. He felt the tremors coursing through the other’s body as he stilled, not moving further in or out; the heavy breaths providing the only change.



Finally there was a small movement; slowly out just enough to give room to push back in. Only a light grunt escaped the perfectly manicured persona. Harry swallowed, trying to keep up with sensations barraging his senses; the burn when the other’s cock slid out slowly again before shoving quickly forward, the electricity that coursed under his skin as his prostrate was first brushed then jabbed, the breathy moans and grunts coming from the figure standing above him. All of it was more than he thought to expect.



Another slow-turned-sharp thrust and Harry arched, basking in his prostate being smashed once more. His feet slipped from Draco’s shoulders to rest around his waist, and Draco’s hands gripped tightly on his hips. Harry’s feet unconsciously pulled Draco closer, deeper thrusts the result. Now that the initial probe was over, the harder Draco thrust the louder Harry showed his appreciation for what he was doing.



Coincidentally, the harder Draco thrust the more he appreciated actually doing it, and his breathy grunts and unwilling moans turned into louder almost-shouts. The more frequent whimpers and soft pleads coming from the Gryffindor below him only spurned him on. Harry seemed to have trouble forming words, but when Draco gave another particularly forceful thrust Harry broke into a choked sob, begging for “more”, and “harder”. Draco was only happy to oblige, digging his nails deep in Harry’s hips, pulling him to meet his thrusts. The combination of the pain from the nails, so like that of the tip of a knife, and the assault on his prostate made Harry feel like crying from all the stimulation, but he knew he couldn’t do that in front of Draco no matter the talk of ‘trust’ and ‘safety’.



He settled on his choked breaths moans and shouts, as each thrust drove home the point about this being about an orgasm. Instinctively knowing it wasn’t quite enough, his hand reached of its own accord to hold his own cock tight. He didn’t want to give in to the shame of pulling himself off, but he didn’t have to as his hand was smacked away. Draco’s hand settled around the length pulling sharply up and back down, trying to match his own rhythm and failing miserably, but what did it matter when the contact forced Harry’s head back and arched his spine. The exposed expanse of neck was so enticing, the posture so beautiful, it set Draco off sooner than he expected and he came cursing into Harry’s tight passage; shuddering, quaking, spasming.



His hand never left Harry’s cock, and the combination of being filled and the pressure on his length gave Harry his turn over the edge. He curled up and in, eyes squeezed shut as his own essence was milked from him.



Finally he was able to fall back with a sharp thwack on the table. The bump on his head went un-noticed in the buzz of afterglow, and he stared through lidded eyes at the ceiling. His breaths came slightly easier with the pause. Draco pulled out, reaching to the side for his wand, and cleansed both with a quick charm. He fiddled with another drawer, and Harry barely noticed the leather and metal fastening around his neck. He only looked down after the hands retreated.



“Another rule: You will never take this off.”



Harry blinked to acknowledge the extension, unable to nod. He simply turned his eyes upwards, looking back at the ceiling.





**





Unfortunately another rule was no masturbation, and the memory was no friend to that rule. Harry bit his lip trying hard not to press a hand to his crotch, not to relieve just a little of the pressure, but the last thing Draco had said to him ricocheted around his brain:



*



“You are mine now, Potter. Your body belongs to me, and if what to do something to it, I will. If I don’t want something done to it, it will not happen, is that understood?”



*



Harry sighed fingering the charm once more, waiting patiently for the time when Draco would call for him again.





--



So naïve

To keep holding on to what I want to believe

I can see

But I keep holding on and on and on and on