Chains Like Trophies

When they first got together, Draco had been surprised to learn that Harry was so domestically capable. There were spells that could do the job, but Draco preferred to watch Harry put his muggle cleaning and cooking skills to use. Decorated in nipple clamps, a cock cage, and the pulsating butt plug that was almost always there, as well as the welts and bruises Draco had given him, Harry would work hard at his chores. Sometimes Draco would put Harry to work, and then go about his day without paying him any mind. He'd make one of his frequent trips to the Ministry, and be content with the knowledge that there was a dedicated slave at home, still obeying his orders. Sometimes, perhaps in the middle of an important conversation with the Minister, he would subtly flick his wand, changing the pace of the plug in Harry's ass.

Draco arrived home one day to find Harry pulling something out of the oven.

"What's this?"

Harry looked up and smiled. "I made you a cake."

"What's the occasion?" Draco asked, walking around the counter to pull Harry toward him.

"I love you."

Draco's hands found Harry's ass and grabbed. "I know."

"You could say it back, you know."

A hand moved from Harry's ass to tickle his encased cock. "I could." He smirked as Harry's eyes closed and his breath changed at the attention to his neglected organ. "You made a mess of the oven."

"I'll clean it, sir," Harry breathed.

"Do it now."

Harry withdrew himself from the arms around him and gathered his cleaning supplies. Draco sat on one of the stools along the counter and watched as Harry gave him a bit of a show. Mesmerized by Harry's ass as it wiggled and stretched, he absent-mindedly cut himself a piece of the chocolate cake in front of him.

"I haven't iced that yet."

"Did I say you could stop?"

Harry turned back to the oven, swaying enticingly as he finished up.

"May I get back to the cake now?"

Draco answered with a curt nod, choosing to ignore the bit of snark in Harry's tone. He continued to leisurely enjoy his cake as he eyed Harry with some curiosity.

"You know, I never asked," he said, and Harry flicked his eyes up from his work to show he was listening, "where did you learn all of this?"

"All of what?"

"Cooking, baking, cleaning… Did you take a class in being a housewife without my knowledge?"

Harry's eyes were glued to the cake he was icing as he answered. "I learned when I was little."

"You mean before Hogwarts?" Harry nodded. "So you were doing all this stuff when you were a little kid?" Another nod. "Why?" Harry shrugged. "Use your words."

"I had to."

Draco was quiet for a moment, understanding. "So what you're saying is, there's a reason you've never expressed a desire to see your family." Harry didn't answer. "The cake is iced. You can stop spreading it around." When this went unacknowledged, he tried again. "Harry, stop." Nothing. "Harry, look at me."

Harry pulled the knife he was using away from the cake, still holding it in a tight fist, and breathed in the breath he was holding. There was something hard in his eyes that caught Draco off guard. On an impulse, he got up and walked behind Harry and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel all the tension in his body. Then he gently kissed Harry's neck, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Thanks for making me a cake," he said. "I love you."