The Open Door

I’ve been awake for quite a while now. I pretend to sleep because I don’t know what else to do. I feel his eyes upon me, watching my every movement. I sneak a glance and pray he doesn’t catch me.

He allowed me to sleep with him last night, in his bed. He allowed me to speak his name. I don’t really know what I’ve done to deserve these two small luxuries, but I take them gladly. His bed is soft and warm, and as I turn over I feel like I’m in a cocoon of pleasure. I’ve was cold and scared before I ran with him. Now, I feel like a treasure, a pet to be sure, but a loved pet. I can live with that for now.

I don’t know why he wants me. I’m marked for death and to be with me could kill him too. He has stolen me from Voldemort. I stifle my laugh at that thought and mumble as if I’m dreaming. It seems ironic to me that it only seems fair that I should be taken from the Dark Lord since the Dark Lord has stolen all that I value, friendship, honor, and love. What I have with my new master is only fucking. I know that he doesn’t love me and that I’m a part of some plot that he’s concocted. He is a Malfoy, after all.

I feel his finger on my chest and it takes all my willpower not to gasp as he caresses me. It doesn’t seem wrong for him to touch me. I want him to. I’ve wanted him since I first met him. Oh, not in a sexual way in the very beginning. At first, I just wanted him to be my friend, but he snapped at the first boy who seemed to want to be my friend. But, Ron is dead now, just like all the others. The thought of their dead bodies lying on the school grounds waiting to be burned in funeral pyres or buried in mass graves makes me want to cry, but I can’t. Not now, perhaps not ever.

I feel him stroking me, and I can’t help feeling aroused. He is lean and muscular and so very pale. I want to touch him so badly, but I lower my hand to my groin to hide my stiff cock. God… I want him to touch me and fuck me. I want him to fuck me so I can forget all the pain I carry, the pain that stabs me everyday that I’m alive and my friends are dead.

I whimper at the image I carry of Hermione and Ginny, bloodied and torn, lying in a twisted heap near the gates of the school. I can still see Ginny’s long red hair glued to Hermione’s face. At least I can’t see her face.

I turn toward the warmth I feel coming from Draco. I feel as cold as a corpse now and I crave his warmth. I hear his heart thudding steadily. I want to curl up to him and feel his arms around me. I want someone to hold me and comfort me for I feel as if I’m dying. I see them all parade in front of me; Ron with the side of his face missing, Neville torn to shreds by the werewolves, Susan Bones a mass of ruined flesh barely identifiable and Seamus, skewered to the wall of Hogwarts by a spelled tree branch. He had died slowly and painfully. I was with him at the last and he begged for his Mam. I would have too, if I had been him. But, I’m not. I’m Harry Potter, and there is no one for me.

I gasp at how alone I am and throw my arm over Draco’s waist. I want him now. I want to forget.

But, I am scared. And I pretend to sleep still. I am paralyzed.

I smell Draco’s scent. He smells like wood, and some sort of liquour and sex. He smells like sex. I breathe him in, I don’t want to stop.

He pulls the cover off me, and I know he’s watching me. I feel his eyes move over me. What does he see? A scrawny scared young man? A fool who was lied to by those he trusted? A man marked for death? I may never know what he thinks, but I know what he wants.

I feel his mouth on my nipple, sucking and licking. He wants me.

Oh Merlin, his hand is so strong upon my cock and I can pretend no longer. I cannot fake sleep any longer. “Draco,” I whisper. Perhaps I can keep my pretence from being discovered.

“Sleep, pet, sleep,” I hear him say. I feel his mouth upon mine. His kiss is gentle and I can’t help myself. I want to taste him and I respond to his kiss and slowly begin to explore his mouth.

I feel him begin to pull away and then he pauses and kisses me back with a passion I didn’t know existed. My hand creeps up into his hair and I feel its softness slide through my fingers. I want him in me now.

I put my hand on his hip and guide him to settle on top of me.

“No,” he hisses and pulls back from me and knocks my hand away.

What have I done to upset him? His face is a twisted mask of fury and I cringe from him. I have nothing left that I can fight with.

“No… no, don’t” he says more softly this time.

I can’t help trembling although I try not to let it show. He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb across it. I feel his hand moving on my cock and I relax. He’s not going to hurt me. He wants me, but he wants me in his own time, his own way.

His lips twitch in a way that I know so well now and he climbs on top of me, settling on my thighs. I follow his hand to my lips and he brushes them gently with his fingers. I want to taste him and I draw them in and swirl my tongue around them. I want them in me.

He moves, but I’m so intent on my task that I don’t notice until his cock brushes against my stomach. He replaces his fingers with his lips and I find myself drawn into his kiss. He opens his eyes and finds me gazing into them. He holds my stare and then I move my legs so he has to kneel above me. I want to make it easy for him to enter me.

He smirks, shaking his head at me. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t have to. I watch as he holds up his two damp fingers and licks them, making them slippery with his own saliva. I follow his hand down and even though I know what’s coming, I tense in anticipation.

He touches me and I want to move forward and draw his fingers in by sheer willpower. Instead I watch in astonishment as he plunges his fingers into his own entrance. I watch hungrily as he prepares himself. He is a blond god readying himself for me. Gods… I grip his thighs tightly and he allows it. He is so intent on his preparations. His mouth opens to form an “O,” then he grips my cock and rises above it.

I smile lazily at him as he lowers himself and takes my length in. It’s so hot and tight and good and overwhelming and I can’t stop myself from tightening my grip to keep him from moving. I don’t want him to move; I’m delirious with arousal and I hear myself groan.

He pulls my hands from his legs and laces his fingers through his and pushes my hands down to frame my head. “No,” he whispers and grinds down pushing me deep within him. I cry out suddenly.

He rises, then begins to ride me. I feel his balls slap against my stomach and he is so breathlessly beautiful above me. His hair glimmers over his shoulders as he rocks and his face, though scarred, is a picture of sated beauty. He’s not holding my hands that tightly, I could escape, by why the hell would I? This is glorious.

I feel his inner muscles gripping me tightly and I roll my hips to meet him. I know I’ve pleased him because he cries out and his face is one of absolute ecstasy. I don’t want him to stop! I grip his hands tightly because I’m so fucking close, so damn close. I want to cry because it’s such a good hurt now.

He loosens a hand from my grip and brushes my hair from my face. Oh Merlin… he sees me crying. He knows how weak and pathetic I am. I shut my eyes; I don’t want to see him seeing me crying like a girl. I’m starting to lose control and it’s so hard to keep up with him. He moves with a precision that I’ve never know before. His last downward thrust sets me free and I come inside him. I feel him come all over my stomach and chest.

He moves and I slip out. I reach for the sheet to wipe his cock of my fluids, but… he lies down on top of me and presses the side of his face to my chest. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. I feel his fingers creep into my hair and twist the strands between his fingers. I turn my head and press my face against his bicep and wait for him to move. But, if he never moves, I could die where I am a happy man. This is what makes me feel alive and that I have some purpose, even if it is only to be a fucktoy of Draco Malfoy.

I relax and feel his breathing slow as he rests atop me.

And I wonder, is the wetness on my chest my sweat or his tears?