All I Need

What Harry loved most in the morning was strapping Draco into his chastity belt.

He loved every aspect of it. He loved oiling up the butt plug, warming it so that it was no longer just a black piece of thick rubber, but so that it was warm, glossy, worthy to sit inside of Draco, to have his arse flexing around it. He worked the cream around it slowly. Draco was bent over the bed, his pale legs spread, his pink hole already dilated-- preparing to take it.

He'd need to go a size up soon, perhaps. Or maybe he'd leave it. It kept Draco open at a nice level of suction, leaving him wet and ready for when he returned home from work-- ready for Harry to take, to remind him who he belonged to.

There was no event that preceded this to make it necessary. Draco had never cheated on him, had never even made mention of anyone in particular that it would even be likely with. Then again, Draco was a Slytherin. It wouldn't be very cunning of him to mention that on the Burberry shoot that he'd modeled with an attractive Frenchman. But when he did speak of them, they had these ordinary names that rang in Harry's ears long after they'd been uttered dismissively.

"I worked with Paul. Yesterday it was Louis. I think tomorrow Matthew, maybe Hampus, too. It's a brilliant year for blondes."

Satisfied that the butt plug was saturated enough, Harry pushed Draco's fine, pale cheeks apart gingerly, kissing the underside of his bum. He pressed the tip against the ring of muscles. It looked too smooth, too alien, not organic, like he was doing something wrong to Draco. It only pleased Harry more.

He dipped the tip inside of the borderline, watching the way that Draco's whole body tensed to take it.

"I warmed it for you," said Harry in soothing tones.

"Thank you," said Draco. His cheek was against the duvet, rich velvet against his perfect skin. Never would Harry have taken Draco for glamorous, but since he'd seen the other male models, he realized that there was something odd looking about all of them. A pasty pale boy with silky hair and worried eyes would fit right in. They were probably already casting his replacement.

Harry worked the dildo in and out of Draco, watching the pink skin flush to white and dark pink again as he fucked him with it, inching the plug in more and more until it was all the way around the base. Then, when he'd reached the base of the plug, Draco's arse clenched shut around the narrow part of it, rubbing, squeezing, greedy for more. He gave it a few turns at the base for good measure.

With a snap, he attached the leather strap that held it to the rest of the harness. The straps were fairly thin, but substantial. Dragon hide-- unbreakable, but beautiful and glossy all the same. It was almost a pity that it was enchanted so that Muggles couldn't see it, but he supposed that taking such a beautiful and unobtainable fabric as dragon hide to the fashion industry would be just plain cruel.

"Stand up," Harry commanded. As much as he loved fucking Draco's hole wet, knowing that by the end of the day he'd be itching to be filled, twitchy with the need for something real in there, he also adored lacing Draco's cock in.

Every morning it was a struggle not to suck it. Harry's mouth practically watered to have it inside of him, watching how it strained even to his very touch. "Such a good boy," Harry cooed. He smiled at the shiver of muscles up Draco's defined torso.

He dragged his fingers over the line of his hips, the beautiful crease that showed just over his trousers, leading somewhere others would find mysterious. Only Harry had ever been there. Only Harry touched these places on Draco. He had found him fair and square, hiding from the Death Eaters under a bridge, too scared to even use his own magic.

Harry didn't ask Draco to follow him, he just did. He didn't ask him to touch him, to kiss him, to suck his cock, to ride him, to massage him when he hurt. Harry barely spoke to him, keeping him a secret from the Order, from even his best friends. He fed him, cared for him, and once the war was over and survivors were sorted from the dead and victims were sorted from the predators. Harry made sure that Draco got a second chance.

He'd never asked Draco to follow him, he just did.

Now Draco had a job, at least for now. One that gave him all of the attention he ever wanted. It was Draco who brought the belt home. Harry put it on dutifully in response to Draco's need to be protected, to be comforted; to be possessed.

The front of the belt held black laces in which to weave Draco's prick between-- silken chords to keep him in place, knots to hold him steady, to guard him from violation or temptation. Harry's fingers brushed the flushed pink prick, crisscrossing the plaiting around his prick. At the bottom, he tied it into a neat little knot and tucked it into the dragon hide, leaving Draco bundled up and full.

Draco sighed in relief as Harry sat up on his knees and dotted angel kisses over his belly. He slid his hands up Draco's back and gazed up at him adoringly to see his expression reflected on Draco's face. His hair fluttered down to shroud him in shadow, but Harry knew that face, knew that it meant that he was happy.

"I'll see you when you get home," said Harry, standing up slowly to hold him for a moment. He was already hard thinking about how glorious it was to take the apparatus off, to hear Draco's demanding whimpers, how he begged to come after being denied all day. He slid his fingers through Draco's hair, cupping his face so he could flash him his most reassuring smile.

"I should be back by four," said Draco. He held Harry a moment longer, and then pulled on his Muggle jeans and a cashmere jumper. He held up his cell phone to show that he'd have it with him and shoved it into his pocket.

Harry smiled, seeing him out adoringly before he prepared for his own day at the Ministry.