Cum-Stained Tears

Bittersweet seduction. Harry felt himself falling deep into Draco's pale expanse, darkness enfolding around his gentle glow. Draco's stomach was a vast wind-torched desert with raging brushfire nipples. "Scared, Potter?" he growled sultrily into the quivering boy's ear. He reached up his hand, a trembling pixie cooing and nestling into Harry's stubbly manbeard. Harry licked the pixie, teased it gently into his soft melon-colored lips and nipped at it like a werewolf pup. Draco hissed and reared, sinking his ivory fangs into the Chosen Boy's milky shoulder. He tore at the flesh, releasing a crimson Tiber, which he then lapped up like a hungry kitten at a swollen teat.

The pureblood's breathing grew heavy, as did his swollen member. As though possessed by the Imperius Curse, his pupils dilated and a single purpose filled his gently-folded cranium. Anal sex. Anal sex. Anal sex.

He flipped the Boy who Lived onto his back and unsheathed Harry's Sword of Gryffindor. Manically, he grasped the hilt with sweating gauntlets and polished it, pulsating fingers firmly running the expanse of the blade, 'til it gleamed milky white. The Sword deflated in his able hands, twitching fat and useless like a mottling phoenix.

Draco then savagely threw the other boy onto all fours like some sort of primal canine. Harry whimpered and cowered, tail, so to speak, dangling between his legs. Draco slunk up behind him, breaths condensing heavily on Harry's back, as Harry nervously dripped semen on the bedsheets, like a leaky cauldron. Inflamed with his power and bloodlust, Draco ripped off his robes and silken undergarments, as his Basilisk slave hissed and purred in the pipes. Harry moaned like a stone gate unfurling and Draco crept up behind him, undulating through the sheets, trailing slime behind his gentle coils. Harry sniveled, and braced his firm buttocks for coming onslaught. Cackling and roaring like a fire, Draco triumphantly released his sputtering Basilisk into Harry's Chamber of Secrets. Here he grew stronger, thrusting like a manticore, rising as a brilliant phoenix in a burst of milky flame that tainted Harry's bleeding anus.

The phoenix would not be stopped! Covered in blood and contending sperms, it thrust its way out of the Chamber and flew! – yes, flew! – through the sweat-saturated skies into The Department of Mysteries. Nervously, Dumbledore's favorite student mashed his sluggy lips around the phoenix's plumed neck, his own sword hanging limp without a sheath. The phoenix crowed, sang a song too beautiful for mankind to behold, and began to weep opalescent tears. Harry Potter obliged his master, sucking like a vicious house elf. As Draco reached his climax, he quickly withdrew, and spewed like a geyser, exploding with wasted fertility across the pale visage and fiery scar.

Cowering, Harry wiped the manfluid from his grimy specs.

"Was that alright, Draco?" he muttered in a soft dejected tone, the tone of one condemned to a life of suffering at the hand of his beloved.

Draco sneered coldly and offered no response; he placed a single lily-white hand around the ashen corpse of his once majestic phoenix, which now hung limp and empty, and promptly smacked Potter across the face with it. Harry looked up, eyes tearing with a trust abandoned, and Draco stood, a rising mountain against the sea of despair. He slapped again and again, raining a fleshy massacre on Harry's dignity. "Stop, Draco," he pleaded, but the arrogant Slytherin grew bolder as the boy suffered, and he did not desist until Harry's cum-stained tears soaked the floor beneath him.