The Harmonics of Flesh

Title: The Harmonics of Flesh
Summary: Porn. Straight up.
Pairing: H/D
Warnings: See the “i’m going to hell” tag? Yeah. Specifically: fisting, bdsm, spanking, breathplay, consensual humiliation, hand job, orgasm denial, and teabagging (?—it refers to Republicans where I’m from. ;-p). Mention of: threesomes, anal, double penetration, caning, flogging. Also mention of Weasleys and Snape in sexual situations. Use of blindfold. Mild mind games. However, it’s all consensual. AU (Snape lives!). Oh, yeah, and it’s not beta’d.
Rating: NC-17 Not for anyone underage. Possibly not for many people who are of age. NOTE THE WARNINGS
Word Count: ~2,500

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her corporate associates. No money is being made from this.




Draco lolled indolently on the bed. It was the third Wednesday of the month, Draco’s day (the first Friday was Harry’s), the day when, outside certain negotiated areas, he could have anything he wanted.

Harry mused.

Draco hadn’t requested anything specific.

And, Merlin, his bum looked so tempting, the sheet pulled low and tight just at the bottom of the elegant curve.

He’d caught Draco in a thoughtful but dour mood a few times recently and he thought he knew why.

It had been three months, but he was missing being filled, being taken over his limits. Unfortunately, filling Draco took two, or at least some ingenuity—“boring cold plastic” having become one of those couple’s phrases that no one ever asked them to explain—and the third they’d chosen before...

Well, he should have known having a Weasley and a Malfoy in the same bed was just asking for trouble, no matter how well-endowed the Weasley might be.

He considered. Draco had mentioned it before, but Harry hadn’t been comfortable, and, hell, Draco had never even tried it himself, just heard of it. Over the past two years, though, Harry’s comfort level had stretched. His breath caught just thinking of some of the things they’d done, the power, the chest –which Draco laughingly referred to as his “Hope Chest”—at the foot of their bed.

Harry made his decision.

*

Draco woke with a breath ghosting over his nape. Normal, but his own breathing quickened at the feel of Harry’s hard length tight against his arse. He shifted hopefully, only to have Harry pull away. Draco’s eyes fluttered: a hard Harry was one who was being an imaginative Harry, and an imaginative Harry on Draco’s day pulling away... He had plans. He felt his nipples tighten in response.

“I’m going to make you take it, take more than you ever have before,” Harry whispered. Draco didn’t try to hold back his whimper—he loved it when Harry talked like this. “You little slut, writhing like a cat in heat. You want to get fucked so hard you can’t walk, don’t you, you street-walking pureblood?”

Harry stroked his throat and Draco felt the collar there—he must have been deeply asleep indeed for Harry to collar him. The leather was just on the edge of too tight. He whimpered and canted his hips as Harry tugged on the leather, just a little, just enough that Draco knew he could take his breath, if he wanted. “Tell me you like being bent over and fucked,” Harry whispered.

“Pl—please.”

Harry slapped his arse, as Draco had hoped he would, and Draco shivered. “Say it, Malfoy.”

Draco swallowed. “I like being bent over and f-fucked.” He intentionally left off the ‘master’ and received another stinging slap.

Harry bit his ear, almost hard enough to draw blood. If he didn’t ease back, Draco knew he’d come... but maybe that was the plan. Harry liked to wear him out and then take him at his leisure, when every nerve was on fire and he was soaked in pleasure. He shook at the idea.

Harry drew close in a parody of a hug, twisting his nipple lightly. “I’m going to put the cock ring on you, and bind those sweet bollocks of yours. Then I’m going to lick them until your wrists are raw from jerking on the restraints—oh, yes, no silk ties for pureblood whores, you get it rough all the way. And then I’m going to take you further than you’ve ever gone before, beyond being stretched over two cocks. And you can take it, you little slut. You’re going to take it and beg me for more. God, your body’s practically begging for it. If I’d known you were nothing but a cock whore back then, I’d have collared you at Hogwarts. I’d have made you scream holes in the walls.”

Draco fought not to frot against the bed, and Harry slapped his arse again anyway.

He was roughly hauled up, the cruel leather cuffs fastened, just loose enough so that he could work his wrists bloody against the rough edges if he wanted to. Draco was gasping by the time he was tied to either bedpost. The silk sheet which had tangled around his thighs gave him a pale pretense of dignity, though his cock was jutting firmly against the accidental binding.

He concentrated on not spurting all over Harry when his lover jerked away the sheet and began affixing the intentional restraints. Though it was a hard choice—if he’d surrendered to impulse, maybe he would have gotten a caning. Harry hated being that rough with him, but Draco longed for the bloody stripes and bruises. It was a good thing that the cock ring was the first thing Harry attended to, else Draco might have orgasmed from the aching memory of the day Harry had “tested the floggers”.

Harry began pulling the leather tight around his bollocks, lifting and separating them. Draco spread his legs helplessly, and mewled as Harry began to tongue the flesh drawn tight by need and leather.

Draco heard himself begin to beg and was thrilled that Harry ignored him. Harry didn’t even bother fingering him, or caressing his aching cock, just tortured him with his evil, clever tongue.

“Oh, god, fuck, Harry, please—”

Harry slapped him again, this time right across his screaming erection. “At my leisure, my dear pureblood prince, not yours.”

Draco arched and moaned, then was left panting breathlessly when Harry stopped touching him altogether and began to stroke his own erection while ogling Draco. Draco found himself flushing, feeling more like a slut than all of Harry’s words could make him. He was bare and helpless, almost sobbing with need, Harry’s collar, with the little “Property of Harry Potter” tag nestled against his throat. That Harry sat, mostly unmussed, clothed save for his open trousers, was just enough added humiliation to make Draco scarlet. If it hadn’t been for the ring, he’d have orgasmed from that.

“You look good, my sweet, but not perfect. Not yet.”

Draco glanced at him, wondering if Harry intended to come on his face, and saw the blindfold. His pulse sped up—the blindfold had been added to the hope chest at Harry’s insistence, as had been the hot wax set. It wasn’t that Draco feared the dark, he feared being blind and helpless.

As a result, of course, Harry could give him a perfectly vanilla blow job while Draco was blindfolded, and he’d go off like a firework.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a plainly evil grin, “you’ll look perfect with this.”

Draco gave a pretense of resistance, tossing his head, but one tug on the collar was enough to quiet him. “Oh, yes,” Harry whispered once the black silk was in place, “you look perfect.” Harry stroked his chest, ignoring his nipples, ignoring the angry flush of his erection though he stroked his own over Draco’s thigh. “So beautiful. You look so innocent, though we both know what you are. The innocent wanton, about to be mastered at long last. Afraid of the mystery of what is to come, but eager for the burn.”

Harry slipped a finger under the collar, making Draco’s breath catch. There was just enough room to still breathe, but, oh, Merlin, they’d never really tried breathplay beyond this little flirting with their collars. “Helpless. I’m looking at you, savoring you. Every time I look at you, at work, with friends, I’ll be seeing you like this. What a pretty blush you have. And you can’t see the one who is about to claim you.”

Harry’s breath hitched and Draco knew he was stroking himself while staring at him. He twisted helplessly at all that had passed between them, and all that would, then arched hard, as if that would release the ring, release his pleasure. The images stirred by those words..

Harry would never blindfold him and give him to someone else without warning him. But the strength, and the delightful weakness, of this relationship, was that maybe, just maybe, he would. Draco’s balls tried to come up at the thought of someone savoring his humiliation, his body. He’d never be able to look at anyone the same way again, not knowing if this image lurked behind their eyes.

Harry grunted and splattered Draco’s chest with come. He wiped it off with a rough towel while his own breathing settled, as if entirely unaware of Draco’s rigidly aching state. “Oh, my goodness,” Harry said with mock surprise, “Would you like to come?”

“Oh, Merlin, please,” Draco moaned. “Master—oh—”

The ring came loose and Harry gave his shaft one long caress.

Draco screamed. Someone—it had to be Harry, didn’t it?—licked his semen-splattered stomach while releasing his balls from their nest of thongs. Draco tried to curl in on himself—the sensation was too much, but Harry was merciless, stroking the oversensitive flesh like a true master.

The licking and petting moved up his body, soothing his wrists—Draco hadn’t even realized they were chafed until Harry licked them—Harry’s solid body weighing Heavily against Draco’s.

Draco began to relax, even in the darkness. He knew Harry’s touch, his scent. He was so spent he couldn’t even find the words to earn himself a proper flogging. For this moment, he was wholly Harry’s, yielding without question to Harry’s touch.

“I want to take you farther,” Harry whispered into his ear. “I want to stretch you wide.” Each word was rubbed into is skin by Harry’s gentle hands. Draco spread his legs in invitation.

Harry licked his jaw and thumbed the tag on his collar. “I don’t want to just fuck you with my cock. There’s something larger I want to see you take.”

Draco’s mind buzzed with possibilities. “Master... will it hurt?”

Lips brushed his. “Yes.”

Draco’s cock twitched, but, still... “I... I don’t know if I can t-take it.”

Harry pinched his nipple, eliciting a shiver. “If you can’t, you remember that word we can only say in deadly earnest?”

Draco swallowed again, relishing the tight leather at his throat. “Y-yes.”

Harry stoked him, from shoulder to thigh, gently, lovingly. “I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing. You aren’t allowed to ask. If it’s too much, really too much, just say the word and it’s over.” Draco trembled as he considered Harry’s words, then nodded.

“Good boy,” Harry whispered against his cheek.

The restraints were shifted so Draco could lay on his side. He savored the ache of returning blood flow to his arms as Harry began.

It started with one well-lubed finger. Harry moved with painstaking slowness, pushing gently, penetrating, and adding another. Draco wondered what was coming. A new dildo? Or something more?

A third finger and the burn began. It was familiar and Draco settled into it, breathing through the discomfort.

“So good,” Harry said. “You look so good, ready to have anything I give you. I have a whole jar of lube right here, and I’m going to use it all on you tonight, unless you say that word. Scream and beg—well, I’m used to that from my whore. But I won’t stop even if you cry. Even if you soak that blindfold because I’m splitting you open. Unless you say that word.”

Draco’s breath hitched. Four fingers, dripping with lubricant. He gasped as the knuckles breached him all together. Harry rotated them experimentally, brushing against Draco’s prostate and making him keen.

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco whimpered, knowing and not certain whether he should fear or hope for what was coming next.

“You’re tightening up on me, Malfoy.” Harry kissed his cheek and stroked his flank. “You can take it.”

“Oh,” was all Draco could manage. The burn was making his balls tighten again, though it was too soon.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Draco pressed down on those fingers. This was no teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure, this was pain. Real pain. But real pleasure, too. He’d heard of it but this was the first time he experienced the complete mixing of the two. He held himself still and marveled as tears began to leak into the dark cloth over his eyes.

“M-more, please,” he whimpered around the sensations. Draco realized he was mentally bracing himself against them, as if he would be lost if he let himself feel them... and with that thought, he stopped resisting.

“Good boy,” Harry said again, adding his thumb and pushing deeper.

Draco gasped with every breath, tears flowing freely now. It was too much but he was helpless against it, unwilling to cry out against it even as those fingers drew together into a fist.

His gasp brought on a flurry of kisses. “You can take it, you look so good stretched so wide...” More kisses, more soothing caresses until he relaxed with it.

And then Harry began to move his fist.

It was slow and gentle, from Harry’s perspective—Draco was certain of that. From his, it was brutal, a cruel pressure on his prostate, fullness beyond anything he’d dare imagine, burning pain, and sharp pleasure making stars in the darkness behind the blindfold.

Draco began to keen and still Harry moved, flexing, spreading, until there was a burst of white light and Draco screamed as pleasure conquered pain.

He came to himself still shivering with aftershocks. He ached, feeling the ghost of Harry’s fist in him... He blinked wearily and focused his eyes, staring at Harry’s hand, which lay protectively on his stomach. That had been inside him. It didn’t seem possible.

“All right, there?” Harry asked.

Draco looked at his worried lover and managed to move enough to kiss him. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he hurt, Merlin, he hurt. But it was Harry’s hurt, and that was good.

They kissed for a while, curled like teenagers in each other’s arms. There were whispered words of reassurance on both sides. Finally, they were still, and fell asleep.

*

For some reason, they never felt the need to invite another Weasley to their bed.

Severus Snape, on the other hand...

But that’s another story.