Another Kind of Love

The leather pinched tight around his throat and Draco groaned at the pop of his spine at the knee digging into his back. His eyes widened for a moment and then he looked over his shoulder at Harry's determined face, concentrated watching Draco's body, looking for signals. Their eyes met before Draco closed his eyes, a well-practiced signal of submission and readiness.

Harry's fingers were slick and warm at his opening, prodding him as the belt went slack while Harry repositioned. Two fingers, then three as he pulled the belt tight again-- cutting off Draco's air supply, leaving him in that exhilarating state of arousal and inability to breathe. It was just enough to get him hard, to make Draco touch himself, but not so intimidating that he was actually afraid.

Some might've thought that this kind of punishment was cruel given all that Draco had been through, but he found catharsis in it. Beyond the pain or the headiness of an asphyxiated orgasm, he trusted Harry this much-- trusted that he would do this to him and always stop when he needed him to.

The weight on the bed shifted, giving Draco a momentary feeling of vertigo as Harry moved off of him and then grabbed his thigh, giving it a gentle nudge for Draco to turn over.

Draco smiled.

Moments like this were why he loved Harry, why he knew that no matter how rough or experimental they got, that he would always trust him.

When Draco turned over, he saw the slight strain on Harry's face, the expression he wore when he thought he was being stoic, but his eyes gave everything away. He knew that while Harry took some pleasure in doing these things to Draco-- mostly because of how much Draco enjoyed them-- that it worried his conscience at times.

The belt hung loose around Draco's neck and he wrapped his arms around Harry to kiss him as reassurance, to let him know that he understood that he wasn't angry or impatient for Harry's moment of uncertainty. Draco knew what Harry had seen, knew how it scared him and knew that sometimes the taboo of what they did-- what Draco felt he needed now-- was more than Harry could bear.

Tangling his legs around Harry's waist, he met the hard thrust that connected their bodies. Harry was inside of him now, the invasion harsh and always slightly uncomfortable no matter what their position.

It was the connection that made it worth it. The feeling of Harry fitting inside of him, and the blissful look on Harry's face; nothing could touch Harry here. Everything was perfect, warm and safe. Draco loved that he could provide that back to him.

Draco clutched Harry's back, meeting each thrust with a quiet grunt as Harry took up the end of the belt again. He gazed lovingly at Draco's face, his mouth fixed in a slight sneer from the effort, but softened with affection. Slipping a hand between them, Draco pulled on himself as he felt the belt constricting his airflow, but kept his eyes open, fixed on Harry's face.

There was nothing in the world but Harry. Not breathing. Not the bed. Not the whole of the Wizarding world; just Harry inside of him, Harry controlling his breathing, Harry needing him, needing to be just where he was and being willing to do anything for him.

First Harry cried out, his body stopping in deep thrust as he released. His eyes clamped shut and furrowed brow, still he looked like an angel dripping with sweat, mouth open in gasping need. Then he started to move again, milking the last of his release free as he twisted the belt over the back of his hand, eyes cut like slits, clocking Draco, calculating, measuring whether he could continue to restrict his air.

Coming like this was like time suspended. He could count seconds between the long ropes of come that slapped back down against his abdomen, coating the pale sweat with his release. Everything went black around the edges, tunneling in, giving him focus on Harry's face that went from bliss to concern before the belt loosed and Draco was breathing again. Each hard gasp sliced through his lungs, burned his already heated body, making it tingle in relief and extraordinarily sensitive to touch.

Pulling the belt away seemed to always be Harry's favorite part, and he leaned in to kiss over the chafe marks, nuzzling his throat tenderly.

"I love you, Draco." His voice took on that soft, worshipful tone that both flattered and embarrassed Draco.

Draco tensed his body and then relaxed, nerves still rattled from the oxygen deprivation. He licked his lips and pulled Harry's face up so he could gaze into his eyes.

"I love you, too, Harry."

Maybe it wasn't the perfect kind of love that some people idealized with two perfect people doing perfect things and living in perfect bliss, but Draco loved that they were both broken and loved even more that in their brokenness, they somehow fit. Harry's crags gave Draco something to cling to and Harry had someone in constant need of rescue.

It wasn't ideal, but it was right.