His
Title: His
Author: starkittyn
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry/Draco/Severus
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Rimming, Felching, Master/slave, Dark themes
Author's Notes: There are quite a number of things about this fic that are unusual. One, I haven't written anything in a while. Two, it's written in first person. Three, this is a post-war changed!Harry story and it uses a common D/s courtesy of capitalizing all references to the Dominant. I fear that might be a trifle confusing but I can't seem to get it to come out any other way. This is told from Draco's viewpoint. This one, I actually considered posting somewhere else cause it's um, almost embarrassing. *blush*
I can almost hear the wheels turning in those microbrains they laughingly call their thinking apparatus. The rumors are flying through the air faster than hexes once did on a warfield. They are gravely mistaken if they assume I don't know what they are saying. Idiots.
I keep walking, slowly and gracefully down the wide corridor that leads to the chamber that He most favours. I can feel Him in the back of my mind and the rage I sense, roiling and trapped makes me shiver. I refuse to quicken my pace. Some things never change and my early training now stands me, us, in good stead. My robe swirls around me, a fluid curtain of silver-struck wine. I never thought I would wear such a color, or such a robe but He has changed everything.
As I move in my stately progression down the hallway, my mind works at a furious pace. I don't need to be told that an object lesson is in order, not only to settle His anger and anguish but also to make very clear the consequences of this...this, stupidity. That anyone could possibly believe that I, Draco - once Malfoy and now simply His - would risk one moment of being His for a flicker of transitory delight is insulting past bearing.
The snake bracelet on my upper arm where the sleeve of my robe is artfully slashed warms and moves against my skin. I shiver again as the golden creature sinuously wriggles up my arm and coils itself around my neck. It elongates until three coils of exquisite magical gold show plainly about my throat and the snake's jewel-eyed head rests in the hollow between my collar bones. This is His will, and it symbolizes in its way both His continued psychic embrace and His unchanged possession.
I smile very slightly and swallow to feel the soft thrum of the snake against my skin. If He so wished, the snake could cut off my breath, snap my neck like a twig but it only holds me securely. A gleaming flick of tongue touches me and I shiver again as my cock begins to harden. Anticipation burns as I imagine Him in all His glory, the manner of His hands touching me and His lips bruising mine. I want Him and this too is a measure of His power.
That anyone could possibly imagine that I would willingly betray Him, risk both His wrath and the loss of His magnificent sex-drive, His pure love is out of their mind. Or, maddened with the jealousy that seems to consume some few who once claimed friendship with Him. I lick my lips and remember again His mourning at the loss of His once companions. He doesn't deserve such pain. No one seems to understand Him, not as I do. He struggles daily, hourly with His power. Each moment is an exercise in more self-control than most men could hope to summon. He is an honorable Liege and yet, He suffers.
My teeth click together sharply at that thought and the snake at my throat gently shifts as if to reassure me. He knows me, He knows my thoughts, my feelings and I do not resist His knowledge. How could I when daily He rewards me with His love and possession. I am the most privileged of men and I am grateful.
The doors before me are huge, intricately carved with scenes of His life. In the center one sees the young man He once was. His wand is gone but the magic shows plainly in His slender frame. Of His enemy there is left only a smoking bit of robe and a severed head. I smile again with pride and step over the threshold when the doors swing open before me.
This close to Him, the power is more sharply noticeable. To the knowing eye, it creates a faint shimmer in the air and my body begins to ache in earnest beneath the soft silk that clings like mist to my skin. This outer room is a sort of lounge, a place where any subject of His painstaking governance may come to bask in His presence. There are aurors ranged about the room who smile and incline their heads in respect to me but their stances are much more battle-ready than on most days.
So, it is worse than even I imagined and I can imagine a great deal. Oh, my Lord, I think sadly and try as hard as I might to send back to Him my utter devotion across that which binds me to Him. The snake at my throat again licks briefly against my skin and with that I must be content.
I am not surprised that the room is empty today aside from the aurors and myself. He would not wish others around Him, as much for their own safety as for His comfort. This is His honor and commitment and I once again feel a tremor of righteous anger that any should doubt that after all He has suffered. Ungrateful wretches, that is what they are.
Continuing on, I pass through a second door and am within His inner sanctum. This is not one chamber but several, linked together by the grace of the living stone of Hogwart's. The great castle is as much His willing slave as I am and I touch the cool stone as I pass one wall as if to reaffirm that likeness between us.
I loosen the clasps on my robe, precious metal loops lengthening to reveal to Him glimpses of my flesh while maintaining some little measure of decorum. If He wished, I would walk here naked but His affection protects me from such an act. There is only one man within the solar when I reach it and I feel a small stab of disappointment which I squelch immediately as unworthy.
Severus turns to me in a ripple of ebony and green, still tall and spare but so elegant and refined now under His hand. I go to Severus at once, embracing him tightly and resting my head against his narrow chest for a moment. He smells of licorice and vanilla as he always does and I rub my cheek against the folds of his robe. "I'm glad you were with Him," I confide in a whisper.
"He wept," Severus says simply and his long-fingered hand strokes gently through my hair as he holds me. "He wept that any could possibly believe that He would harm you, or that you would betray Him."
I want to cry too, both with rage and with pain. How dare those bone heads He has worked so hard to protect cause Him such anguish? It is so unfair that it takes my breath away. I pull back from Severus and nod. "He knows better," I murmur firmly and touch the snake curled around my throat. Severus knows what that means and I note that the silver serpent of his own office is visible against his wrist and disappearing well up inside his sleeve. He nods without speaking.
"He will not forgive her again," I say, keeping my voice quiet and taking Severus' hand in my own. We walk together, taking a quiet turn around the solar where the saffron light of a winter day floods over us impossibly from deep within the castle's walls.
Severus squeezes my hand as if in comfort. "He has her already, locked away in an oubliette. She is cared for but cannot leave. He cannot bear to face her as yet." His tone is calm but I read the undercurrents in his vibrant voice and can hear satisfaction in it.
"I hope she grows old and dies there, alone." I am stunned a little at the venom of my own voice but I don't feel sorry for it. If it were me, I would cut her to ribbons with my own hands. My Lord is much more civilized than I am.
"The castle may well take control," Severus remarks and bends his head towards me. Now I can see the savage little smile curving his lips and I return it, lifting a hand to brush back the raven's wing satin of his waist-length hair with affection. My Lord's power sustains Severus in the best blush of his middle-age. He is no beauty but he has his charms.
The collar of living scales moves against my throat and I feel His call like an electric tingle that streaks over my skin and curls itself possessively about my cock and balls. I move away from Severus slightly and lift my face. I know he sees the call in my expression, my darkened eyes and lightly flushed cheeks, the parted blush of my painted lips. He releases me instantly, bowing his head in respect for me.
"Come to us later," I say softly. "We want you with us." I am speaking not just for myself but for Him and Severus knows this.
He smiles at me, black eyes glittering like dark stars. "I will be waiting."
I can linger no longer. He needs me with too much anguish and desperation. I am drawn to Him, a steel moth to His hellish flame. I am naked by the time I enter his bedroom, barefoot with the chains of my bonding shimmering against my pale skin. The coils of His call are now made solid, curved as jeweled restraints about my wrists and ankles. They hold my achingly hard cock hostage too, displaying its rigid length for His eyes.
I pant softly as I approach the bed, trembling a little. This close, His power is like a constant touch, everywhere. He is inside me with only the power of his magic and mind, exploring my willing entry as I settle against the soft sheets. He turns to me, a primal vision of ebony waves and absinthe green eyes. He is so beautiful but I can see the traces of tears on His face. Despite my near frantic arousal in His presence, I dare only softly kiss and lick at His cheeks where the salt from His tears flavor His skin.
"Draco," He murmurs, allowing me this liberty.
I could scream from the pleasure His voice saying my name gives me. I tremble for Him, forcing myself to hold back the moans and pleading that lay locked in my throat. He will have me soon enough, of that I am sure. I can feel His cock against my thigh and move just the tiniest bit, offering Him my body to His flesh as well as His will.
"Yes, Harry?" I breathe. Oh please, my Lord, please. I think helplessly and start to squirm because His power is inside me, stroking against my prostate mercilessly. The bonding net pulses, squeezing enough that I know He will make me wait and wait. I am His; and this is right and good.
"I love you," He declares ever so softly and my cock drips aroused fluid at the sound of those syllables. This is why He keeps me from Him at times. I am utterly defenseless before His power and the exquisite pleasure is almost killing strength.
"Please," I whimper, biting my lip hard in punishment for letting the plea escape when He is already suffering. I try to breathe and plaster myself against His body. He feels so good, hard and muscular though still youth slender as am I. "I love You so. I worship You. Please."
"She will never spread such lies again," He reassures me, just as if I am not begging and writhing like a whore against Him. I am His whore and I love it, ache for it. I can feel the tremor of fierce rage that passes through Him, the pain of loss surging with it. His last companion of Before has betrayed him.
"Thank You, Harry," I breathe though I cannot even feel triumph or relief. I feel only Him, tormenting me.
He rolls over, pushing me down into the soft bed. He spreads my thighs, pushing them up so that they touch my chest. I whine and almost scream out loud when His will abandons its play within me. I am left exposed, trembling before His eyes. My cock is so hard that the flesh aches beneath the tightly clasped net of our bond. It pulses, squeezing and releasing and I know He is experimenting with it.
He has me absolutely vulnerable, bound like the warprize I am. There is no possible way I can come like this and that too is part of the prize. He'll make me whimper and beg, crawl on my belly, writhing against the pillars, just to be allowed to come for him. I don't feel any shame at such things, only utter bliss and contentment. This too is His power and I blink up at Him with adoring eyes.
"Please," I whisper again and He holds me down by the shoulders, pushing His cock into me in one slick push. He feels huge in my arse, stretching me, using me. I can't touch Him like this, I can only be taken. The pressure against my prostate is constant, tormenting and I nearly weep from it.
"I love you, Draco," he breathes and the bond net shifts. I look up into His blazing green eyes and shriek, coming instantly and violently in a near-hysterical wave that rips up my backbone. I forget I have arms and legs. I forget I have anything but the look in His eyes and the power thrumming and His cock taking me. It goes on and on as he begins to move, each thrust a nearly orgasmic experience.
I go boneless beneath Him, moaning and crying. Sweet Merlin, what He does to me. I come and come, more than seems possible for a man, even a young and vigorous one. He is merciless, almost cruel with His thrusts and I feel His tears against my skin. I am too spent and lethargic to do more than clasp Him to me, stroking my fingers through His hair.
He comes then, spending into me and I feel the magic that spills with His seed. It makes me tremble and spasm beneath him yet again and I pass into a dark oblivion.
When I awaken, there is the taste of blood on my lips and the liquid heat of a tongue sliding in and out of my loosened passage. I am still too weak to do more than mewl like a kitten. He holds me draped over His chest, mouth gently worrying at my lips, kissing me tenderly. I know that the force of His earlier kisses are what made my lips bleed and that it is Severus passionately and methodically tongue-fucking me.
"Pretty slut," He says against my lips and my cock throbs, trapped between our bodies. I go from lazily erect to painfully blood gorged in mere moments. I wriggle against Him, against Severus' insistent tongue sweeping in and out of me, taking what is left of my Lord's come from me like a cat scoops up cream with its rough tongue.
I whine, pushing my arse up towards Severus' face as best I can in my lethargy. He's playing with me now, pointed tongue tip swirling around and around rather than thrusting as deep as possible. I feel like such a whore and Severus is no better, feeding on my Lord's seed from His slut's arse.
"Harry," I breathe, His arms hold my upper body securely against His chest. My hardened flesh dangles, grazing back and forth against His to make my bones crack with the heat. I cannot move, I'm too relaxed and drained from His passion but I want to. I want to squirm and hump myself against Severus and that wicked, wicked tongue.
"Draco," He purrs to me and He sounds lazy and sated. I feel a distinct sense of pride that I can comfort Him, soothe Him as I do but it fades quickly because I am wanton again. "Move for me," He orders and I obey, trapped between Severus' tongue and the friction offered by rubbing myself against Him.
I am quickly a whimpering plaything, begging once again to be allowed to come. I want His cock again, or Severus', or something. I am swollen and burning and so exhausted that I cannot even squirm properly. The bond net is close around me and I can only assume that Severus is so held as well. I mutter every filthy erotic phrase I can think of and breathe out an ecstatic moan when I am rewarded by Severus' cock pushing into me, the motion crushing me tighter against Him.
I understand now what He means to do and lay pliant as best I can while Severus fucks me in long erotic jabs. "Master," I breathe against His chest. His cock too is pressed against my opening, not yet pushing in but rubbing against the wet, slick skin and brushing against Severus' length as it pushes in and out. My Lord's power is stretching me, forcing my hole to widen so that He may enter me as well.
I am the vessel of my Lord's pleasure, drawn down as I always am to be his toy. He begins to push into me and Severus groans, I whimper. It hurts, Merlin it hurts. I feel tears well up in my eyes, streaking down over His chest as I am plundered. Deeper and deeper His cock pushes alongside Severus', one from above and one from below. I am sandwiched between two demanding cocks and I can only guess at the ecstasy Severus must be feeling.
Weeping, I lie there, crying out again and again as those two cocks find their rhythm. In and out, in and out so that I am filled past bearing. The pleasure of it is once more burning me alive. I beg, again and again, my own cock a weeping agony against Him despite the fact that He already drained me thoroughly.
Severus comes first, groaning hoarsely and pumping his hot come all around His cock buried in my hole but He continues the rhythm. He rides me, rides Severus straight through Severus' orgasm before allowing Severus to withdraw. Collapsing beside us, he breathes gratitude to Him but I can't respond. I can't do anything but feel His cock once more drilling me open.
I think I scream, I know I beg. I come again, torn into small glittering pieces by His passion. He spills himself this time on my belly and rubs his come against my skin. He marks me thus, leaving His scent and power behind like a signature. The last thing I hear is His voice telling me again that He loves me. I smile as an ebony pool takes me, though I am radiant in my exhaustion.
When I awaken, I am in my own chambers a small, safe distance from His. I am bruised and sore and can barely move enough to ring a bell and summon a House Elf to aid me. I smile as Tinky fetches me food and drink, lying back against my pillows. I can feel Him still, near but far. His rage and pain are still there, as they must be. I sigh for the sake of Hermione Granger's misguided acts. He is comforted though, I feel that too and I am satisfied with that.
I love my Lord, Harry Potter and will do so until the end of my days. I am His, body and soul and none shall ever divide me from him.
Author: starkittyn
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry/Draco/Severus
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Rimming, Felching, Master/slave, Dark themes
Author's Notes: There are quite a number of things about this fic that are unusual. One, I haven't written anything in a while. Two, it's written in first person. Three, this is a post-war changed!Harry story and it uses a common D/s courtesy of capitalizing all references to the Dominant. I fear that might be a trifle confusing but I can't seem to get it to come out any other way. This is told from Draco's viewpoint. This one, I actually considered posting somewhere else cause it's um, almost embarrassing. *blush*
I can almost hear the wheels turning in those microbrains they laughingly call their thinking apparatus. The rumors are flying through the air faster than hexes once did on a warfield. They are gravely mistaken if they assume I don't know what they are saying. Idiots.
I keep walking, slowly and gracefully down the wide corridor that leads to the chamber that He most favours. I can feel Him in the back of my mind and the rage I sense, roiling and trapped makes me shiver. I refuse to quicken my pace. Some things never change and my early training now stands me, us, in good stead. My robe swirls around me, a fluid curtain of silver-struck wine. I never thought I would wear such a color, or such a robe but He has changed everything.
As I move in my stately progression down the hallway, my mind works at a furious pace. I don't need to be told that an object lesson is in order, not only to settle His anger and anguish but also to make very clear the consequences of this...this, stupidity. That anyone could possibly believe that I, Draco - once Malfoy and now simply His - would risk one moment of being His for a flicker of transitory delight is insulting past bearing.
The snake bracelet on my upper arm where the sleeve of my robe is artfully slashed warms and moves against my skin. I shiver again as the golden creature sinuously wriggles up my arm and coils itself around my neck. It elongates until three coils of exquisite magical gold show plainly about my throat and the snake's jewel-eyed head rests in the hollow between my collar bones. This is His will, and it symbolizes in its way both His continued psychic embrace and His unchanged possession.
I smile very slightly and swallow to feel the soft thrum of the snake against my skin. If He so wished, the snake could cut off my breath, snap my neck like a twig but it only holds me securely. A gleaming flick of tongue touches me and I shiver again as my cock begins to harden. Anticipation burns as I imagine Him in all His glory, the manner of His hands touching me and His lips bruising mine. I want Him and this too is a measure of His power.
That anyone could possibly imagine that I would willingly betray Him, risk both His wrath and the loss of His magnificent sex-drive, His pure love is out of their mind. Or, maddened with the jealousy that seems to consume some few who once claimed friendship with Him. I lick my lips and remember again His mourning at the loss of His once companions. He doesn't deserve such pain. No one seems to understand Him, not as I do. He struggles daily, hourly with His power. Each moment is an exercise in more self-control than most men could hope to summon. He is an honorable Liege and yet, He suffers.
My teeth click together sharply at that thought and the snake at my throat gently shifts as if to reassure me. He knows me, He knows my thoughts, my feelings and I do not resist His knowledge. How could I when daily He rewards me with His love and possession. I am the most privileged of men and I am grateful.
The doors before me are huge, intricately carved with scenes of His life. In the center one sees the young man He once was. His wand is gone but the magic shows plainly in His slender frame. Of His enemy there is left only a smoking bit of robe and a severed head. I smile again with pride and step over the threshold when the doors swing open before me.
This close to Him, the power is more sharply noticeable. To the knowing eye, it creates a faint shimmer in the air and my body begins to ache in earnest beneath the soft silk that clings like mist to my skin. This outer room is a sort of lounge, a place where any subject of His painstaking governance may come to bask in His presence. There are aurors ranged about the room who smile and incline their heads in respect to me but their stances are much more battle-ready than on most days.
So, it is worse than even I imagined and I can imagine a great deal. Oh, my Lord, I think sadly and try as hard as I might to send back to Him my utter devotion across that which binds me to Him. The snake at my throat again licks briefly against my skin and with that I must be content.
I am not surprised that the room is empty today aside from the aurors and myself. He would not wish others around Him, as much for their own safety as for His comfort. This is His honor and commitment and I once again feel a tremor of righteous anger that any should doubt that after all He has suffered. Ungrateful wretches, that is what they are.
Continuing on, I pass through a second door and am within His inner sanctum. This is not one chamber but several, linked together by the grace of the living stone of Hogwart's. The great castle is as much His willing slave as I am and I touch the cool stone as I pass one wall as if to reaffirm that likeness between us.
I loosen the clasps on my robe, precious metal loops lengthening to reveal to Him glimpses of my flesh while maintaining some little measure of decorum. If He wished, I would walk here naked but His affection protects me from such an act. There is only one man within the solar when I reach it and I feel a small stab of disappointment which I squelch immediately as unworthy.
Severus turns to me in a ripple of ebony and green, still tall and spare but so elegant and refined now under His hand. I go to Severus at once, embracing him tightly and resting my head against his narrow chest for a moment. He smells of licorice and vanilla as he always does and I rub my cheek against the folds of his robe. "I'm glad you were with Him," I confide in a whisper.
"He wept," Severus says simply and his long-fingered hand strokes gently through my hair as he holds me. "He wept that any could possibly believe that He would harm you, or that you would betray Him."
I want to cry too, both with rage and with pain. How dare those bone heads He has worked so hard to protect cause Him such anguish? It is so unfair that it takes my breath away. I pull back from Severus and nod. "He knows better," I murmur firmly and touch the snake curled around my throat. Severus knows what that means and I note that the silver serpent of his own office is visible against his wrist and disappearing well up inside his sleeve. He nods without speaking.
"He will not forgive her again," I say, keeping my voice quiet and taking Severus' hand in my own. We walk together, taking a quiet turn around the solar where the saffron light of a winter day floods over us impossibly from deep within the castle's walls.
Severus squeezes my hand as if in comfort. "He has her already, locked away in an oubliette. She is cared for but cannot leave. He cannot bear to face her as yet." His tone is calm but I read the undercurrents in his vibrant voice and can hear satisfaction in it.
"I hope she grows old and dies there, alone." I am stunned a little at the venom of my own voice but I don't feel sorry for it. If it were me, I would cut her to ribbons with my own hands. My Lord is much more civilized than I am.
"The castle may well take control," Severus remarks and bends his head towards me. Now I can see the savage little smile curving his lips and I return it, lifting a hand to brush back the raven's wing satin of his waist-length hair with affection. My Lord's power sustains Severus in the best blush of his middle-age. He is no beauty but he has his charms.
The collar of living scales moves against my throat and I feel His call like an electric tingle that streaks over my skin and curls itself possessively about my cock and balls. I move away from Severus slightly and lift my face. I know he sees the call in my expression, my darkened eyes and lightly flushed cheeks, the parted blush of my painted lips. He releases me instantly, bowing his head in respect for me.
"Come to us later," I say softly. "We want you with us." I am speaking not just for myself but for Him and Severus knows this.
He smiles at me, black eyes glittering like dark stars. "I will be waiting."
I can linger no longer. He needs me with too much anguish and desperation. I am drawn to Him, a steel moth to His hellish flame. I am naked by the time I enter his bedroom, barefoot with the chains of my bonding shimmering against my pale skin. The coils of His call are now made solid, curved as jeweled restraints about my wrists and ankles. They hold my achingly hard cock hostage too, displaying its rigid length for His eyes.
I pant softly as I approach the bed, trembling a little. This close, His power is like a constant touch, everywhere. He is inside me with only the power of his magic and mind, exploring my willing entry as I settle against the soft sheets. He turns to me, a primal vision of ebony waves and absinthe green eyes. He is so beautiful but I can see the traces of tears on His face. Despite my near frantic arousal in His presence, I dare only softly kiss and lick at His cheeks where the salt from His tears flavor His skin.
"Draco," He murmurs, allowing me this liberty.
I could scream from the pleasure His voice saying my name gives me. I tremble for Him, forcing myself to hold back the moans and pleading that lay locked in my throat. He will have me soon enough, of that I am sure. I can feel His cock against my thigh and move just the tiniest bit, offering Him my body to His flesh as well as His will.
"Yes, Harry?" I breathe. Oh please, my Lord, please. I think helplessly and start to squirm because His power is inside me, stroking against my prostate mercilessly. The bonding net pulses, squeezing enough that I know He will make me wait and wait. I am His; and this is right and good.
"I love you," He declares ever so softly and my cock drips aroused fluid at the sound of those syllables. This is why He keeps me from Him at times. I am utterly defenseless before His power and the exquisite pleasure is almost killing strength.
"Please," I whimper, biting my lip hard in punishment for letting the plea escape when He is already suffering. I try to breathe and plaster myself against His body. He feels so good, hard and muscular though still youth slender as am I. "I love You so. I worship You. Please."
"She will never spread such lies again," He reassures me, just as if I am not begging and writhing like a whore against Him. I am His whore and I love it, ache for it. I can feel the tremor of fierce rage that passes through Him, the pain of loss surging with it. His last companion of Before has betrayed him.
"Thank You, Harry," I breathe though I cannot even feel triumph or relief. I feel only Him, tormenting me.
He rolls over, pushing me down into the soft bed. He spreads my thighs, pushing them up so that they touch my chest. I whine and almost scream out loud when His will abandons its play within me. I am left exposed, trembling before His eyes. My cock is so hard that the flesh aches beneath the tightly clasped net of our bond. It pulses, squeezing and releasing and I know He is experimenting with it.
He has me absolutely vulnerable, bound like the warprize I am. There is no possible way I can come like this and that too is part of the prize. He'll make me whimper and beg, crawl on my belly, writhing against the pillars, just to be allowed to come for him. I don't feel any shame at such things, only utter bliss and contentment. This too is His power and I blink up at Him with adoring eyes.
"Please," I whisper again and He holds me down by the shoulders, pushing His cock into me in one slick push. He feels huge in my arse, stretching me, using me. I can't touch Him like this, I can only be taken. The pressure against my prostate is constant, tormenting and I nearly weep from it.
"I love you, Draco," he breathes and the bond net shifts. I look up into His blazing green eyes and shriek, coming instantly and violently in a near-hysterical wave that rips up my backbone. I forget I have arms and legs. I forget I have anything but the look in His eyes and the power thrumming and His cock taking me. It goes on and on as he begins to move, each thrust a nearly orgasmic experience.
I go boneless beneath Him, moaning and crying. Sweet Merlin, what He does to me. I come and come, more than seems possible for a man, even a young and vigorous one. He is merciless, almost cruel with His thrusts and I feel His tears against my skin. I am too spent and lethargic to do more than clasp Him to me, stroking my fingers through His hair.
He comes then, spending into me and I feel the magic that spills with His seed. It makes me tremble and spasm beneath him yet again and I pass into a dark oblivion.
When I awaken, there is the taste of blood on my lips and the liquid heat of a tongue sliding in and out of my loosened passage. I am still too weak to do more than mewl like a kitten. He holds me draped over His chest, mouth gently worrying at my lips, kissing me tenderly. I know that the force of His earlier kisses are what made my lips bleed and that it is Severus passionately and methodically tongue-fucking me.
"Pretty slut," He says against my lips and my cock throbs, trapped between our bodies. I go from lazily erect to painfully blood gorged in mere moments. I wriggle against Him, against Severus' insistent tongue sweeping in and out of me, taking what is left of my Lord's come from me like a cat scoops up cream with its rough tongue.
I whine, pushing my arse up towards Severus' face as best I can in my lethargy. He's playing with me now, pointed tongue tip swirling around and around rather than thrusting as deep as possible. I feel like such a whore and Severus is no better, feeding on my Lord's seed from His slut's arse.
"Harry," I breathe, His arms hold my upper body securely against His chest. My hardened flesh dangles, grazing back and forth against His to make my bones crack with the heat. I cannot move, I'm too relaxed and drained from His passion but I want to. I want to squirm and hump myself against Severus and that wicked, wicked tongue.
"Draco," He purrs to me and He sounds lazy and sated. I feel a distinct sense of pride that I can comfort Him, soothe Him as I do but it fades quickly because I am wanton again. "Move for me," He orders and I obey, trapped between Severus' tongue and the friction offered by rubbing myself against Him.
I am quickly a whimpering plaything, begging once again to be allowed to come. I want His cock again, or Severus', or something. I am swollen and burning and so exhausted that I cannot even squirm properly. The bond net is close around me and I can only assume that Severus is so held as well. I mutter every filthy erotic phrase I can think of and breathe out an ecstatic moan when I am rewarded by Severus' cock pushing into me, the motion crushing me tighter against Him.
I understand now what He means to do and lay pliant as best I can while Severus fucks me in long erotic jabs. "Master," I breathe against His chest. His cock too is pressed against my opening, not yet pushing in but rubbing against the wet, slick skin and brushing against Severus' length as it pushes in and out. My Lord's power is stretching me, forcing my hole to widen so that He may enter me as well.
I am the vessel of my Lord's pleasure, drawn down as I always am to be his toy. He begins to push into me and Severus groans, I whimper. It hurts, Merlin it hurts. I feel tears well up in my eyes, streaking down over His chest as I am plundered. Deeper and deeper His cock pushes alongside Severus', one from above and one from below. I am sandwiched between two demanding cocks and I can only guess at the ecstasy Severus must be feeling.
Weeping, I lie there, crying out again and again as those two cocks find their rhythm. In and out, in and out so that I am filled past bearing. The pleasure of it is once more burning me alive. I beg, again and again, my own cock a weeping agony against Him despite the fact that He already drained me thoroughly.
Severus comes first, groaning hoarsely and pumping his hot come all around His cock buried in my hole but He continues the rhythm. He rides me, rides Severus straight through Severus' orgasm before allowing Severus to withdraw. Collapsing beside us, he breathes gratitude to Him but I can't respond. I can't do anything but feel His cock once more drilling me open.
I think I scream, I know I beg. I come again, torn into small glittering pieces by His passion. He spills himself this time on my belly and rubs his come against my skin. He marks me thus, leaving His scent and power behind like a signature. The last thing I hear is His voice telling me again that He loves me. I smile as an ebony pool takes me, though I am radiant in my exhaustion.
When I awaken, I am in my own chambers a small, safe distance from His. I am bruised and sore and can barely move enough to ring a bell and summon a House Elf to aid me. I smile as Tinky fetches me food and drink, lying back against my pillows. I can feel Him still, near but far. His rage and pain are still there, as they must be. I sigh for the sake of Hermione Granger's misguided acts. He is comforted though, I feel that too and I am satisfied with that.
I love my Lord, Harry Potter and will do so until the end of my days. I am His, body and soul and none shall ever divide me from him.