Redeem Me

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Redeem Me…by Samayel

Chapter 57: The Flesh And The Spirit

’Oh, fucking Merlin! It’s huge!’

Consciousness came to Draco early that morning, and despite the wonderful, muzzy heat from Harry that made the winter dawn bearable, he was very, VERY aware of the erect and softly pulsing thing pressed against his backside. Harry’s arm was still draped across his chest, and they were as close as they had been when they’d fallen asleep. Harry’s breath danced across the back of Draco’s neck in even, calm puffs, telling Draco that Harry was still asleep. That aside, the most immediate thing Draco had noticed, even before his eyes fluttered open, was the swollen flesh pressed against him, even through their pajamas. He hadn’t actually seen Harry naked before, but he’d guessed by the way that Harry filled out his clothes that the man was fairly well-endowed. Now, sight unseen, the feel of it against him made it seem positively enormous, and just a little bit frightening.

Draco hadn’t had the wherewithal to relieve his own ‘tension’ for days. The treatment and the headaches after it had seen to that. His head still hurt very faintly today, and he felt well enough to go to work, though he suspected that he wouldn’t get anywhere near as much done as usual. Being well was all fine and good, but it brought back into play a problem that had been temporarily rendered moot. However unnerving it might be to wake finding Harry fully erect behind him, it wasn’t genuinely frightening at all. In fact, it was fairly exciting, if the rapid stirring in Draco’s own groin was any way to judge things. He could remember fantasizing about moments like this just a week ago, but they’d been nothing but dreams and wishes then. It hadn’t seemed possible that so much could come to pass in a few short days, and now the reality of what he was doing struck Draco squarely in the face.

’I’m nineteen years old. I’m bent as hell. I’m in love for the first time, and I’m ‘spooned up’ in bed with him, and now I’m so horny I could just explode right here. I’ve got to wake him up and see if he deals with this well enough to try something a little more…interesting.’

“Harry. Wake up, love.”

Draco settled for stroking the arm that was draped across him, brushing his fingertips across the smooth and tanned skin of Harry’s arm. A nervous trepidation filled him, making it hard to speak above a whisper, and his stomach felt fluttery while he held Harry’s hand close to his stomach. So peaceful. It almost seemed a shame to wake Harry up at a time like this, but Draco had slept as much as he could the past couple of days, and he had no intention of wasting today as well. Frankly, he was sick of being sick, and desperately eager to enjoy some of the things that would have been impossible for him less than two days ago.

“C’mon, Harry. The sun’s up. Wake up.”

Harry stirred just a little, mumbling something unintelligible, then drifted back to slumber. Draco huffed a little with frustration. He pulled Harry’s hand to his mouth, and kissed the open palm, dabbing his tongue in the center just as he pulled away, then blew gently onto it. Harry smiled in his sleep, then wriggled closer to Draco suddenly, the erect prick in his pajamas shoving indelicately against Draco’s bum. It wasn’t quite the reaction Draco had hoped for, but it was pleasant enough in an awkward sort of way.

They were so close that Draco could almost feel Harry’s heartbeat, and every so often Harry’s erection throbbed involuntarily, and the feeling of it being ground against his backside was setting Draco’s blood on fire.

“Harry! Wake up!”

His voice only made it to a normal speaking volume out of sheer desperation, and while he hated to admit, he’d actually sounded vaguely whiny, but, damn it all, he needed some kind of attention NOW!

Harry woke with a slight start, eyelids fluttering open, bleary and confused. He’d been in the middle of a very pleasant dream, and the sudden realization that he was grinding his cock against his boyfriend, in his sleep, on their first morning in Harry’s room as a couple, was extremely disturbing.

“Ngh! Sorry! ‘m sorry, Draco. I…I didn’t mean t-”

Draco cut him off quickly, and when Harry tried to pull away, Draco latched hold of Harry’s arm and pulled it back around his own waist.

“Knock it off, already. We sleep in the same bed, we snog whenever we like, and we’re crazy about each other, right? Fine couple we’d make if we both go running for the hills every time we wake up with a stiff one. I don’t want you to get away from me. Harry, I wanted you to wake up and…well…you know…”

He’d been doing fairly good with his little speech, until the part where he trailed off, blushing furiously. He wasn’t even really sure how far he wanted things to go, but he was fairly sure he wanted to get off, and sooner rather than later. Harry got the idea quickly enough, and his blush matched Draco’s a few seconds later.

“Oh. You…you want to…now?”

Harry’s question came out strangled, and Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Not everything at once! Just, well, something to celebrate my first day in this room.”

Draco had a sudden devilish thought. He twisted back a little, craning his neck to give Harry a proper good morning kiss. Harry seemed a bit stiff, albeit this time north of his waist. Draco pulled away and nibbled his way down to the shell of Harry’s ear, twisting a little more so that he could turn to face Harry properly. As a result, his own stiffened flesh was rubbing gently into Harry’s thigh. He could feel the breath catch in Harry’s throat.

Draco whispered huskily. “Haven’t I waited long enough? I’m as happy as I can imagine ever being…here…with you. If you could, would you let me do whatever I wanted?”

Something vaguely like a whimper died in Harry’s throat.

“Yeah. If…if you’re sure.”

Draco let his breath drift warmly across Harry’s neck.

“I’m sure. Relax, love.”

Draco’s hand fumbled with the buttons on Harry’s shirt, opening them one by one, and he made himself comfortable on his side, letting his lips work their way down Harry’s neck, while Harry was on his back, paralyzed with uncertainty.

’Who’s the big, brave Gryffindor now? I never thought he’d be like this. Maybe he’ll be more…forceful, once he’s sure it’s okay with me. I hope so anyway. It would be a bloody tragedy if I fell hopelessly in love, got well enough to enjoy a normal life, just to find out he’s the one terrified of sex. Mmmm. Sex. That’s right. Where was I?’

It was positively intoxicating. Harry relinquished any semblance of control to Draco without any complaint. Draco was well aware that it wasn’t anything that Harry had to do, and he couldn’t have forced his will on Harry if he’d tried. Harry simply gave him carte blanche to do as he pleased.

Draco peeled back the pajama shirt and ran his hand up the dark expanse of smooth skin. His own hand looked like ivory or alabaster next to such an earthy tone. He marveled at the small, yet perfectly defined muscles that had escaped his hurried notice in the past. Harry’s skin was warm and soft, unscarred and clean. Draco brushed his fingertips across a flat, dusky nipple, enjoying the small gasp from Harry. Draco was nearly hypnotized by the luxury he was enjoying, and rather innocently fell into brushing lazy circles across Harry’s chest with his hand, spiraling slowly lower until he noticed that Harry was trembling. His hand was less than an inch away from the knot in the drawstring of Harry’s pajama bottoms.

Harry’s eyes had been closed, and his breathing was thready. Draco also suddenly noticed the bulge in Harry’s clothing. He rested his chin on Harry’s stomach gently, looking up to Harry, waiting for those eyes to open and acknowledge him. A second later, wide emerald orbs were looking down, and Draco framed his question quickly, trying to decide what he wanted first.

“Can I? Harry, I want to see it.”

Harry could only barely manage a nodded ‘yes’. Draco reached for the drawstring, tugging slowly at it, enjoying the anticipation as much as possible. Technically, this wasn’t such new territory for him. He’d seen dozens of men with their flies open, jerked or sucked them to completion, and had been thoroughly violated in every way that he could have been. This was truly different. Those memories were locked in a misty haze, walled off by arcane power and kept at bay. This was the first time Draco had ever willingly touched another person this way, much less a person he adored and desired, and there was a subtle magic at play that couldn’t be denied. Dula had been right in more ways than one. To this, Draco might as well have been a virgin, no matter what else he had done in the name of survival. And there was no one in the world he would have chosen for this moment save Harry.

The drawstring was undone, and Draco tucked his thumbs under the edges of the pajamas pushing them down slowly. Harry nervously obliged him by shifting his weight so that the clothes slid down easily and didn’t get stuck beneath him. And there it was.

Draco stared while he pulled his hands away. It wasn’t really as enormous as it had felt against his backside, but it certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at. It was perhaps a couple of inches longer than his…at the most, but its girth was unnerving, especially at the base, where it was thickest. It tapered upwards noticeably, and curved slightly upwards, toward Harry‘s chest, making a soft arc of swollen flesh. Draco’s own erection was leaking a small amount of pre-come into his pajamas, aching for freedom and eventual satisfaction. Harry’s was stone-hard, but didn’t seem to do that. It was as smooth as velvet, and almost as dark as the rest of Harry’s skin, with a heavy slip of foreskin that had already peeled back, evidence of Harry’s arousal.

Draco slithered his hand down Harry’s chest, letting it rest just beneath the jutting thing that sprouted upwards from a small thatch of dark fur. His palm was flat against Harry’s stomach, and the warmth and softness of Harry’s stiffened flesh was at rest against the back of his hand. He was so hypnotized that he didn’t notice the hand pulling a strand of hair away from his cheek. Harry was gently rubbing his back, and it was still a weird and wonderful thrill just to be touched and not feel fear cresting like a wave in his heart.

He turned his hand up, brushing it down Harry’s thigh, feeling the tension in the muscles of Harry’s legs. Then he ran his fingertips back up the same path, caressing the sensitive places that he already knew had never been touched by anyone before. Harry’s gentle massage of his shoulders and back halted suddenly, and a soft gasp could be heard behind him. Draco smirked at the knowledge that he did so little, and yet pleased Harry so much, then made up his mind and moved again, this time making himself comfortable on his side before wrapping a firm and cautious hand around Harry’s erect length. He could actually hear Harry swallowing out of surprise, and a frisson of excitement shivered through the man’s entire body.

He made a few tentative pulls, feeling out what Harry responded to best. No two people liked exactly the same things, and a decent wank hinged on finding a style that suited the recipient. Harry was cursing softly under his breath, so it was safe to assume that he was enjoying himself. Every so often, Harry would twist this way or that, wracked by a need to come that was becoming immediate. Lack of experience had a lot to do with it, since at that point, any sexual contact, however mild, was overwhelming for Harry. Draco, however, had no intention of letting things end that quickly.

’I have waited wayyyy too long to let this be over with in a matter of minutes, and if I have to get him hard all over again, before going to work, just to properly enjoy myself…well, actually, I guess that might be fun too.’

Draco leaned forward, glancing back at Harry, who was wide eyed and trembling, obviously unsure of what to do. Draco smiled disarmingly, trying to show his level of comfort, and slowed his pace while he whispered his thoughts.

“I want to watch you do it. You can watch me too. We should get used to each other this way. Don’t you think so?”

Draco leaned back onto his haunches and started to peel away his pajama shirt. Harry, red-faced and confused, took the cue and did the same. A few seconds passed while they divested themselves of their night clothes and settled back in laying side by side.

Harry’s eyes were riveted to Draco’s groin. The parts he’d seen weeks ago, withdrawn from cold and fear, were prominent now. A modest tuft of dark blond fuzz surrounded the slim, pale wand of flesh that Draco was rather lazily tugging at, and Draco himself was staring lustily at Harry, waiting for Harry to take up the same activity. It didn’t take any encouragement to move Harry to action, but the reality of what he was doing made his skin feel like he was on fire.

Draco’s free hand was exploring every reachable detail of Harry’s chest and arms, while Harry stared in amazement at the pale, slender young man beside him. This wasn’t the sickly, wounded youth that had arrived at the Burrow weeks ago, and it wasn’t the Draco he’d gone to school with either. Something new had been born, an amalgam of each of those persons, and this Draco was stronger and more confident than either of the others that had come before. He was beautiful in a way that Harry was only just becoming aware of, and the sight of lusty, lambent gray eyes locked hungrily on Harry’s body was as much, if not more, than he could stand.

Their mutual pace quickened rapidly, and Draco’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Harry’s stomach and chest tighten. Harry groaned softly, eyes clenched shut and head tipped back, and then arched forward hard, his entire body tensed while he shuddered and came. Copiously. Draco stared in surprise at the sheer volume of the mess that Harry made. Seconds kept ticking by slowly, and Harry was still coming, heavy white streaks of fluid splashing onto his chest and stomach, jet after jet. Draco flopped back onto the pillows and let his own excitement carry him over the edge. He was at peace with the knowledge that this was the only time another person had ever seen him come to orgasm, and even if he hadn’t been at peace with that, he was much too aroused to care. Pearly droplets rolled across his knuckles and spilled down onto his stomach, one after another, while Draco clenched his teeth and periodically looked over to Harry, who was gasping for breath, flushed from head to toe, and staring in unabashed awe at Draco.

Draco caught his breath, and wriggled sideways, resting his head on Harry’s arm. It was a little surreal, realizing that they were starkers in bed together, and dotted with their own come besides. Harry interrupted his reverie, finally finding his voice.

“I can’t believe we just did…that. That was…it was strange…but great! No complaints. Bloody brilliant, even! I’d give you a hug, but I’m a mess at the moment. I haven’t had one off at all this week. Guess I was overdue.”

Draco chuckled giddily. “I guess so! Someone needs a Cleaning Charm. Maybe three or four. Accio! Evanesco!“

Draco repeated the last spell several times to clean Harry, once he had wand in hand, then flopped bonelessly back onto the bed, sighing with contentment. His mind registered one thing immediately, solving a small mystery that had crossed his mind weeks ago. Harry’s rampant cock had softened, but was still very close to the same size it had been before, while Draco’s had rather dramatically deflated, curling in on itself quickly. No wonder Harry always gave the impression of being exceptionally well hung. He had the kind of endowment that just didn’t shrink, and didn’t really grow that much when it was erect. Draco wondered idly if it was inconvenient to have something like that swinging about in a pair of boxers all day.

Harry had curled an arm around Draco’s shoulders and Draco responded quickly, moving closer for the kiss that was coming. Draco felt exultant, celebrating several firsts in a row, all before the day started properly. Harry‘s kiss began to falter, and Draco pulled away, curious. Harry was as pale as ash, eyes glazed over with something that was not lust. His breath was coming in short gasps.

The spiteful specter lodged in Harry’s soul struck fast and well, exploiting the fears that would wound Harry best. Images of violence flickered through Harry’s mind’s eye. Sickening visions of what was possible, and dark temptations that made his heart quail with terror and disgust.

His fist in Draco’s hair, grinding that impudent face into the pillows, muffling the mewling cries while he sated his blackest lusts with that slim little body spread-legged before him. The muted cries from the boy beneath him were a symphony in his ears, and the knowledge that he had absolute power, over life, and over death, was intoxicating. He could close his hands around that soft throat and snuff the life from this insignificant creature with such ease. Power was all that mattered. He could take his pleasure in any way he wanted, and discard the ruined shell of this pitiful brat when he was finished with it.

“Harry? Are you all right? Harry!”

“Nghk! AHH! Huhhn!” Harry snapped back to reality, suddenly and violently nauseated.

“’m sorry!” That was all he could get out before he grabbed a towel and leaped up and out of the room, running for the toilet as fast as he could. He hadn’t eaten all that much the last couple of days, but it all came up in a matter of minutes, while Harry reeled at what his mind’s eye had seen.

‘How? How could I even think things like that? Sick! I’m sick. I’m wrong…and evil. How could anyone want that? Draco…I was hurting him…and liking it. How could I even imagine something like that?! Maybe he was right. Maybe Molly and Draco were both right. The things…the things I did…the people I killed…changed me. Something is wrong with me…something fucking horrible is wrong with me. I’ve got to…control…myself. I can’t do things like that. I can’t. Not to Draco. Not to anyone. I won’t be a monster. God! Anything but that. I couldn’t…I couldn’t live with myself…if I hurt him that way.’

Harry emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, sweating profusely and quietly praying that he’d just had some isolated flashback. Nothing so sick could have been his desire…could it? He heard a soft knock on the door.

“I’m…I’m alright. Just my stomach. Didn’t settle right. Sorry. Don’t worry, love.” He called the words over his shoulder, gasping for breath and clean air. The bitter tang of bile was in his mouth and nostrils.

Draco stood by the door, hastily wrapped in a blanket. His heart was pounding like a bass drum and it was hard to concentrate on anything but his immediate and chaotic fears for Harry. What if he’d pushed Harry too far too soon? Maybe Harry liked him a lot, but wasn’t really gay? The man had supposedly thought he was straight until a few weeks ago. Maybe he found the reality of sex with a man more grotesque than he’d imagined. Or worse…what if seeing Draco act so comfortable about sex had reminded Harry of the fact that Draco had been a whore? Harry had never had sex with anyone, and presumably he thought it was too important to just have it with anyone. Draco had seen and done so much, most of it against his will, but some of it just for survival. He’d wondered if that knowledge would someday make Harry sicken at the sight of him, and now that worst of fears was a reality.

Draco stepped away from the door, leaking tears he couldn’t stop, and shuffled back to the room that had just been christened by their lust…and now by his shame. He quickly pulled on his clothes and snatched his wand from the nightstand. He could hear the sink running in the bathroom, and slipped downstairs. Molly wasn’t up yet, so he forced himself to start the tea, keeping his mind away from the fluttering urge to panic or break down completely.

He was in much too far. He didn’t want anyone but Harry, and Harry might care about him, and even love him, but evidently not enough to overcome his disgust at the filthy slut he’d fallen for. Draco’s throat felt too thick, and the idea of going to work early crossed his mind. He jotted a quick note for Harry, folding it and setting it on the stand by the fireplace, not far from the stairs. Harry’s name was on it in bold print, and it was hard to miss. When he came downstairs for tea or breakfast, if he could hold it in, he’d see it right away, especially if he was looking for Draco.

Draco snatched a clump of Floo powder and stepped into the fire, wishing he wasn’t so…attached to this place…to this life. It was easier when he didn’t care. Now everything was bright and real and sharp…and it hurt. He uttered the address of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, and vanished in a puff of green fire.

Not two minutes after his departure, Ron Weasley Flooed in, exploding out of the fireplace with a cheerful step, hurrying to the kitchen first. Unbeknownst to him, the note that Draco had left on the stand fluttered to the ground as he passed by in a hurry, and slid beneath the edge of a chair, one corner still poking out from its hiding place.


TBC!!!