Possession

~~~

You push him back hard, and the corner of your mouth twists in satisfaction at the crack of his bones against the rough stone of the wall. You think he could break like that. You’d like to be the one to break him. He whimpers, and it sounds sweet, too sweet and pure and you want to silence him. So you do. You press against his neck and he gasps, hot, coarse exhalations that tickle the shell of your ear.

You whisper a charm he knows well, and you hear him hiss as the air is sucked from his drying throat. You whisper it again just to hear that sound again, similar to the hiss of parseltongue and yet so much darker, and so much better because it comes from him.

His eyes say ‘Harry’, but the words on his lips are only profanity. He’s pleading with you to fuck him, fuck him here and hard and please just right now or he’s going to die.

You watch his grey eyes dilate as you press biting kisses against his swollen lips, loving the way the black swallows the grey and all color disappears except for the green reflection of your own. You see yourself in that glossy surface, and you see yourself wanting and ruthless and it drives you, gives you energy to continue.

He looks scared and small and beautiful and when you move against him again, the friction of your erection grinding hard against his makes him moan, and it is a hollow, breathless sound. That’s all you will allow from him. When you kiss him this time, your tongue is probing, driving, slick and wet against his teeth and mouth until he is choking out air that tastes delicious in its desperation.

You pull back, fingers slipping into his robes as you undo the buttons of his trousers, undressing him quickly, yet determinedly. Your own clothes follow, falling to the floor and pooling at your feet, rustling as you step over them and press against him again, his skin already sweaty and warm as your chest melds into his and you feel the hardened buds of his nipples trace over your skin like the tips of quills.

You prepare him slowly, a look in his eyes akin to trust as your fingers slip in and out of him and he bites his lip, willing himself not to moan. His eyes say ‘Harry’ again, this time more desperately and when your fingers curl and touch that part inside him, his eyes widen and his breath hitches and you wish you could freeze that moment, just to keep that look, the split-second where his eyes say ‘yours’.

You lift his legs and he’s clenched between your body and the wall. If you took one step back now, he would fall. And his breath is coming in little panting gasps and you whisper the charm again and he hisses and writhes, hips thrusting forward and arms clutching at your back and shoulders.

You could let him go and he would fall, break, and shatter before you. And you would stand triumphant. But you don’t. When you look into his eyes again, you see tears. The grey is fogged with tears and when you kiss him again, you taste the salt on your tongue. You smile, because he’s already broken.

You cast a second charm, and feel yourself go slick and smooth and you probe at his entrance before sliding inside. You feel him clench around you as his whole body stiffens, fingers scrabbling at your back, fingers digging in to your flesh like he’s trying to mark you.

He tears off your glasses and your vision blurs. Your eyes are open, but all you can see now is the pale outline in front of you. Your eyes flash a green that reflects in his grey eyes but you are dizzying from the cocoon of sweat and sex and Draco is all blurred edges of skin and hands. Against the dark windows of the wall behind him, you think he looks like an angel.

He’s strangely silent and you watch him carefully as you move, thrusting roughly in and out of him, watching his eyes go watery and his mouth open to mouth your name. He looks so fragile, so scared, and you haven’t seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. You kiss him as you slam into him a final time, and you can taste your name on his tongue as you drag it into your mouth, reclaiming ownership.

When you pull back again, his eyes still say ‘Harry’, and you note with some dark satisfaction that his cock has not been touched.

Lowering his legs, you slide out of him and gather your clothes.

You pull on your robes and walk away, leaving him standing there, naked, and empty.

He is yours, but that doesn’t make you his.

~~~