Restraint

A/N: This started off as a stand-alone piece, but it ended up being a sequel, of sorts, to my previous Draco/Harry fic, Desperatio. I have the dreadful feeling that this may not be the last of this little plot-bunny either......

As always, leavers of feedback will be loved and petted and called George (or whatever they want to be called).

Disclaimer: All Characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this.

“There is no way I’m putting that….’thing’ on Malfoy. No fucking way!”

“Well then Potter, I guess if that’s your attitude, I’ll just have to tell Granger and Weasel exactly what you were doing last week, in that corridor. I’m sure they’d be fascinated to know that their friend, the Gryffindor golden boy, let Draco Malfoy fu…..”

“Alright, dammit. I’ll put the fucking thing on.”

Harry ground his teeth at the smirk on Malfoy’s face. He was trapped, and the Slytherin knew it. If he didn’t want Malfoy telling Hermione and Ron about his shameful secret, he’d have to do whatever Malfoy wanted. He should have realised that this would be the end result of allowing Malfoy to suck and fuck him in that corridor, but at the time, he’d been too blindsided by the turn their encounter had taken to consider the ramifications. Clearly, the Slytherin hadn’t had the same problem. In fact, Harry was certain that it had been Malfoy’s ultimate aim all along.

He snatched the offending item of clothing out of Draco’s hands, and turned his back on the other boy. It was a pointless gesture, and he knew it. The dry chuckle from behind him indicated that Malfoy knew it too.

Harry had realised, as soon as he’d been able to think again, that the little tryst in the corridor would come with a price. Even as Draco had wrapped his lips around Harry’s all too eager cock, he’d known. But he’d been unable to resist, unable to push the boy away and leave. And now he had to pay the price; he’d just not expect Draco to come up with the idea of making him wear a corset, complete with lacy knickers as payment.

He struggled into the clothing, cursing and muttering to himself, which provoked more chuckles from behind him. Finally, he thought he had the damned thing on. He was just steeling himself to turn around and the inevitable laughter, when he sensed Malfoy moving to stand directly behind him. Harry froze, heart pounding suddenly.

Cool fingers grazed the bared skin of his shoulders, raising goosebumps in their wake, and Harry had to fight the shiver that threatened to run down his spine.

“Let me do this up properly for you” Malfoy’s voice was a whisper in Harry’s ear, the warm breath on his neck catching him off guard and causing a shiver that Harry couldn’t prevent this time.

He felt Malfoy tugging on the laces at the back of the corset, fingertips brushing against his skin. Harry sucked in a breath and tried to keep absolutely still.

”Hey, not too tight dammit Malfoy.”

“Shut up you idiot, it’s supposed to be tight. I know what I’m doing.”

That was a disturbing thought. How in the hell did Malfoy know how a corset was supposed to be laced? Harry suddenly felt very, very out of his depth.

Harry wondered how bad telling Hermione and Ron about Draco could be. He knew that they would forgive his mistake, although they certainly wouldn’t understand it. But if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to tell his friends. However depraved and degrading it had been, Harry had wanted the heady thrill of seeing Draco Malfoy on his knees in front of him, mouth too busy on Harry’s cock to speak. He had revelled in dark and dangerous sensation of Draco fucking him in a corridor where anybody could have seen them. He wanted to feel that again. Even the shame of submitting like that, to Malfoy, of all people, couldn’t dim the memory of the rush, of the pleasure. Harry knew, if Ron and Hermione knew, they would try to stop it happening again, thinking it was best for Harry, who couldn’t deny that it might well have been best. But, oh god, he wanted it, he wanted it badly.

Draco finally finished messing about with the corset laces. Harry took a cautious breath, and discovered that whilst he was tightly bound in the stupid contraption, he could at least still breathe, so long as he didn’t try to take any deep breaths, that was.

Then Draco’s hands curved round the slender waist created by the corset. Harry held his breath, even as his heart rate spiked again. He felt Draco move closer, until his chest was pressed firmly against Harry’s back. Even through the corset, Harry could feel the warmth of the other boy’s skin.

When Draco dipped his head and brushed his lips down Harry’s neck and over his shoulder, Harry barely stifled the gasp. Another pointless gesture, because Draco surely knew how aroused he was, with his cock straining at the material of the knickers. And, oh, this was so wrong, so very wrong, but Harry didn’t care. He loved the wrongness of it, thought he’d tried to deny it. He wanted to feel debauched, immoral, violated. He wanted to taste that darkness again. He wanted to give himself over to Malfoy, wanted to be used and bent to the other boy’s will.

Draco’s hand slipped down to grasp Harry’s cock through the lace of the knickers at the same time as he bit Harry’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, then dragged his fingers over the length, trailing down to cup Harry’s balls. Harry didn’t bother to hide the shudder that ran through him. The corset restricted his breathing, making him pant softly, the restriction made his head swim a little.

Draco pressed his own erection into the cleft of Harry’s arse, and rocked gently against him.

“Oh yes, you like this, don’t you little slut? Dressed up like my whore, panting and hard for me.”

Harry groaned, no longer wanting to deny the truth of Draco’s words. There was little point anyway, he couldn’t deny that his body wanted Malfoy’s hands on him. That wearing the corset didn’t disgust him; quite the contrary.

“Bend over Potter.”

Harry couldn’t get enough air, and his whole body seemed to be trembling. This was what he’d been dreaming about ever since their previous encounter. He wanted to feel Draco’s cock fucking him again, as he rode the sensation, the line between pleasure and pain merging until he couldn’t tell the difference.

The corset forced Harry to bend from the waist. He leant his hands against the wall, and waited, shallow breaths coming faster now, the sense of anticipation coiled tightly in his belly. The tightness of the garment ensured that he couldn’t forget he was wearing it.

Draco’s hands slipped over his hips, then over his arse, squeezing and fondling his buttocks. Then he grabbed the knickers and tore them away, the flimsy material parting relatively easily. Harry moaned, the slight friction burns merely adding another layer of sensation. Oh god, he really was a slut he realised. Draco’s whore, and when that thought sent nothing but another wave of lust through his body, he knew he truly was damned. The thought that he was willing playing Draco’s bitch proved just how far he’d fallen, and he couldn’t have cared less.

Malfoy’s hand suddenly slid down the length of his cock, lubricant seeming conjured out of thin air. He shuddered, feeling the pleasure down to his toes, knowing that he was moaning already, short breathy groans, interspersed with pants. The inability to draw a deep breath began to make Harry feel very slightly light headed, but that only added to the pleasure, to the intensity of sensation.

He didn’t resist as Draco forced him further forward, until he was sure he was bent at a perfect 90° angle, though Malfoy’s hand never stopped working Harry’s cock.

“You have no idea how fuckable you look Potter. Pretty as a girl. Just *aching* for me to fuck you.”

Harry moaned, the tightness of the corset making him feel as though he were bound and restrained; helpless, at Draco’s mercy. Which should have scared him. Malfoy’s were not known for being merciful. But then, Harry didn’t want mercy. He wanted what he’d had a taste of before. He wanted to be taken, fucked, debased and corrupted. He wanted to forget, just for a few short minutes, that he was Harry-bloody-Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World. He wanted someone else to make the decisions for once.

He’d spent the best part of a week, replaying those moments in the corridor with the blonde boy, usually with his hand on his cock and Draco’s mocking laughter in his ear. He’d known then that Malfoy would never let him go, and he’d eventually realised that he didn’t want to be free anymore. He wanted to be wanted, even like this. Just like this.

A sharp pinch to his buttock made him jump, whimpering at the unexpected pain.

“What do you want Potter? Do you want me to prepare you properly? Or do you just want me to take you like this, tight and hot and begging for it?” Draco hissed in his ear, voice low and full of amusement and malice in equal measure.

“Oh fuck” Harry was having trouble breathing, the light headedness increasing “fuck me, just fuck me”

Harry didn’t care that he was begging, didn’t care that Malfoy was laughing at him, didn’t care that it was going to hurt, no matter how much lube Draco used. He needed that pain, needed that confirmation that he was alive enough to still feel *something*.

He sensed movement behind him, and the idea that Draco was slicking himself with the same stuff he’d used on Harry’s cock sent another wave of lust through Harry.

He had only a second to register the sensation of Draco’s cock resting against his arse, then Malfoy was pushing forward, slowly. Harry’s body fought to adjust, nerves screaming, the entry burning worse than Harry had thought.. Harry found himself panting and moaning brokenly, tears prickling his eyes, though he would not cry in front of Malfoy, no matter how much it hurt; he welcomed this pain after all, had asked for it.

Finally Draco’s hips were flush against Harry’s buttocks, and the blond boy paused, one hand gripping Harry’s hip hard enough to leave bruises, the other clasping his cock, which although Draco was no longer stroking it, and despite the pain of the entry, was still hard, Harry realised.

“Oh fuck Potter. So fucking tight. Fuck”

Harry thought he would have laughed then, if he could have, but he needed to concentration on breathing. Between the pain and the restriction of the corset, he was starting to feel dizzy, but he had no intention whatsoever of passing out before this got good. And it would be good, Harry knew that. That was part of the humiliation, the payment, that he enjoyed this as much as he did.

When Malfoy’s hand flexed on his hip, Harry braced himself as best he could. It didn’t exactly take a genius to work out what was coming next. Harry moaned as Draco withdrew in a long slow glide. The blonde boy paused for a second, then slammed back in, dragging a moan from Harry’s lips that was mostly pain, part pleasure, and utterly wanton.

Malfoy began a steady rhythm, not fast, but oh so intense. The smooth glide of the withdrawal, the jarring pleasure/pain of the thrust, the breathless pause between movements, when time seemed suspended and dreamlike.

Harry’s head felt too heavy for his neck to hold up, and he let it fall forward, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feeling and the knowledge of Draco fucking him, while he stood there, bent and dominated, wearing a corset, a willing participant in his own degradation.

When Malfoy’s hand started to stroke his cock again, Harry jumped, and he heard, with no small satisfaction the startled gasp from behind him at his unexpected movement.

Harry could barely breath any longer, his ribs ached from straining against the steel bones of the corset, and his lungs burned with the need for more air. The lack of oxygen merely seemed to enhance the pleasure, and Harry knew that this orgasm was going to be among the best he’d had, if he could stay conscious long enough to appreciate it, that was.

As Draco’s thrusts sped up, becoming harder and deeper, matched by the rhythm of his hand on Harry’s cock, Harry knew it was over. A few seconds later, he threw his head back and shouted as his orgasm hit.

When he opened his eyes, it took him a few seconds to realise that instead of standing against the wall he was lying on his side on the floor. A breath confirmed that the corset had also been unlaced enough to allow him to breath normally. Clearly, he’d passed out during what had been, as he expected, possibly the best orgasm of his life.

He looked up. Draco was lounging in the doorway, smirking. If Harry hadn’t been so well fucked, he’d have been tempted to smack that smug expression right of Malfoy’s face.

“Back in the land of the living then Potter? I have to admit, I was rather tempted to leave you here for someone else to find”

Harry gritted his teeth, he suspected the only reason Malfoy hadn’t done just that was simply because Harry had woken up before he had chance to.

As Harry dragged himself to his feet, he caught Draco eyeing him.

“I want that corset back Potter. I’ll collect it next week……” Malfoy walked away, leaving Harry sitting on the cold stone floor.

Harry looked down at himself, covered in his over come, red marks on his thighs where Draco had torn the knickers off, bruises the shape of slender fingers slowly blossoming over his hips, not to mention the ache and burn in his arse.

He looked around for the knickers, but it seemed as though Draco had taken them with him. Harry felt a shiver of apprehension about that idea – there were plenty of dark and potential dangerous potions that could be made if you had someone’s body fluids. He doubted Draco wanted the underwear for that purpose; more likely he wanted a trophy, a physical reminder of this encounter. Harry shivered anew at that thought, although for a very different reason.

He sighed, it was going to take him some time to get out of the corset, if getting into it had been any indication, and he had no idea what the time was now. He figured if he didn’t want too many awkward questions he’d better get on with getting dressed and finding his friends.

He wondered what Draco was going to find to torment him with next week, and whether he’d enjoy it as much as the corset…