porn: Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum (1/2)

[lettered]

Title: Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: dirty talk, fingering, anal sex, with mention/discussion of dominance, submission, felching, object insertion, food porn, exhibitionism, spanking, cross-dressing, and, I don’t know, throw in like a consensual orgy
Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.
A/N: -Thanks ever so to hereticalvision for the Brit pick and SPAG; all mistakes are mine
-There is potential gross-out; heed the warnings
-For me, this is a little like showing some sex toys I like. If you're here for the Schopenhauer come back next week.

Sex, Lies, and Veritaserum

Harry and Draco had been married almost a year when Draco said, “I’ve put Veritaserum in the wine.”

They’d had a nice meal. Afterwards, Draco had insisted on night flying. Back at the flat, winded and slightly reddened by the cold air, he had suggested wine. He had been distracted all evening, Harry had noticed. Slightly distant, in that Draco way, but also agitated. From time to time his eyes had come to rest on Harry and he looked almost . . . longing, but when Harry caught him looking, he’d steadfastly turned away. Probably looking forward to the great sex they were going to have, Harry had concluded. It was getting late.

Now that Harry thought about it, Draco had seemed distracted for more than just tonight. The last several weeks had seemed strange.

Harry put down his glass. He hadn’t drunk any yet. “Why . . .” he began, and stopped to watch Draco, who was taking a rather long sip from his own glass. “Why?” he settled on.

“So we can talk.”

“We can always talk.” Harry pressed a hand to his temple. “If you wanted to dose me with Veritaserum, why would you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to dose you. I want you to dose yourself.”

Harry felt like rubbing both temples now. Instead he closed his eyes, and opened them. Draco was still lounged on the couch, drinking his wine. “I’ve never lied to you, Draco.”

“I didn’t say you had.”

Harry glanced at the wine. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Sex.”

Dismayed, Harry said, “Why would I need Veritaserum to talk to you about sex?”

“In order to have an honest discussion.”

“I told you; I’ve never-”

“I have.”

Harry gaped. “You’ve lied to me about-” His eyes went to Draco’s glass. “You’ve dosed yourself?”

“Yes. I may lie, but when I lie about sex it’s because I’m ashamed. I wouldn’t-” Draco looked down at the wine. “I hate Veritaserum,” he added, and drank the rest of the glass down.

Harry felt as though the ground was being taken from under him. “Ashamed?” he repeated.

“That’s why I need the Veritaserum.”

“What are you ashamed of?”

“The things I want you to do to me.”

Harry’s palms were suddenly sweaty. He licked dry lips. “What sorts of things?”

“The things I can’t ask for. I-I’m probably going to need more.” Draco started to get up.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder, pressing him back down. He took Draco’s glass. “Only you could talk circles around Veritaserum.”

“I want to be straight forward. It’s very hard for me, Harry.”

Hearing Draco so earnestly admit to a weakness made Harry’s heart twist hard inside his chest. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

Draco held his eyes. “Yes.”

“I’ll get you more.” Harry went and poured another glass.

As soon as Harry put the glass back into his hand, Draco took another sip.

Harry very carefully tried to think of a question Draco couldn’t get around. “What things can’t you ask for, that you’re ashamed of, that made it so you wanted to take the Veritaserum?”

“I’d like to be your slut,” Draco said promptly, and just as promptly looked utterly mortified.

Harry caught his breath. “Draco . . .”

“I feel sick.”

“Shit,” said Harry, and took away Draco’s glass away. “How much Veritaserum did you put in it?” Harry tried to feel his forehead, and Draco batted away his hand.

“Not enough to make me ill.”

“But you’re-you don’t look well.”

“I told you,” Draco said, and really did not look well at all, “I’m ashamed. Give me back my glass.” Harry kept it, which made Draco roll his eyes. “I know my potions, and I’m under Veritaserum. Give it to me.”

“It’s not going to make you any less sick.”

“Yes, but too much makes me babble.”

“Too much can kill you.”

“Please give it to me, Harry. This is hard enough as it is.”

Reluctantly, Harry gave it to him. Draco took a big gulp. Harry had never seen Draco drink wine that way; usually he was such a connoisseur. “Why do you want to babble?”

“You might not ask the right questions.”

“What question do you want me to ask?”

Draco closed his eyes. Harry could see him fighting the Veritaserum, which was ridiculous, considering that he was fighting it at the same time as he was drinking it. Draco’s eyes finally popped open. They were so dark they looked almost black. “Ask me how I want to be your slut.”

“Er,” said Harry.

“I said you should have some too.”

“Why?”

“Because you want me to be your slut.”

“Er,” Harry said again. “You rather like that word.”

“I love it.” Draco took another long draught of the wine.

“I don’t . . .” Harry began, and then realized he was going to lie. That meant he would have lied twice-once about not lying, and once about not wanting Draco Malfoy to be his slut. Oh God. Draco was right; he should have some of the wine. Instead, he said, “How would you like to-how?”

“Good. Yes. Harry, I would like to be on my knees for you. I want to be wet for you. I want to be ready for you. All the time.”

“I . . .”

“Have some of the wine, Harry. You want to use me. You want to fuck me any way you please, and for me to like it. I know it. I see it in your eyes sometimes.”

“No. You don’t.”

“I do. I’m on Veritaserum, remember?”

“Then you’re not . . .” Harry trailed off again.

“Have some of the wine.”

“You . . .” Harry shook his head. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“I think it’s weak. And humiliating. And debasing.” Malfoy put his head to one side. “And I think it feminizes me, even if females don’t necessarily act that way. I’m sure some do, but it’s not as if-It does make me babble. I hate myself for wanting this.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because I still want it. And you’re the only one who can do it for me.”

“No.” Harry was slowly shaking his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Oh, God, Harry. You have-have-” He could not say Harry had to, because Harry didn’t have to. “I need-” Draco had to change that too. He closed his eyes. “I want you to. Very badly.”

“Draco,” Harry said gently. “Don’t you see? If you hate yourself for it-”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Veritaserum.”

“But you have no way of knowing-”

“I’ve thought about it. I have a plan.”

Malfoy’s face was tinged pink, his eyes so bright. He looked so nervous and eager and hopeful, Harry felt awful. “What?”

“We don’t speak of it,” Malfoy said rapidly. “We have a method to designate it from the rest of our lives, keeping it completely separate. Within the perimeter of that method, we can behave in certain ways that . . . suit us, but outside that perimeter, we don’t even have to consider it.”

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“Utter sense?”

“You want us to do something we can’t even face.”

Draco closed his eyes again. “Not everything you desire has to survive the light of day.”

“It does. Or else I-I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Harry.” Draco’s eyes slid down. His eyelashes were silver, and the light of the lamp by the table caught in his hair. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

Draco stood up. He was all lanky bones and pointed angles, yet somehow he moved gracefully. He came to stand in front of Harry, and then got down on his knees. They had been in this position plenty of times before, but never had it made Harry quite so uncomfortable. Draco leaned in, his voice at Harry’s ear.

“I’m saying that I want you to plug me up. All day. So that any time you like, you can simply pull it out and fuck me. I’ll be so wet and stretched and wanting you, so ready, just like a cunt. Harry, just like the cunt I am.”

Draco’s lips drifted across Harry’s throat, breath trailing until Draco moved his mouth to Harry’s other ear. “I’m saying I want a fake cock forced down my throat while you fuck me from behind, and I’ve already been fucked so hard that come is leaking down my thighs. I want you to lick me out afterwards, just like it was a pussy, and the whole time you’re not even touching my cock because it’s not worth your time.”

Then Draco’s hand was on Harry’s cock, which had been hard ever since he first said the word slut. “I want you to ram this down my throat until I choke,” Draco whispered, “and to keep fucking my throat raw with it while my arse is full of thick, long toys. I want us to pretend we’re doing it in public-I want to do it in public, Harry, just so long as I never have to admit it, in a seedy toilet, in a bar-just so I can think about how everyone is seeing how much I like it up the arse, how much I love you big thick cock, so I can think about everyone seeing I’m such a dirty, filthy fucking whore. Are you telling me you don’t want those things?”

And then Draco sat back on his heels and waited.

Harry was shaking all over. He was thinking that he had two choices at this point. One was to leave Draco right now, because now that it had been said, Harry could never forget that that was what he wanted. Harry made the other choice. “I’ll have some wine,” he whispered.

“Good,” said Draco. The words he had said had made him quite pale, but now his mouth showed the ghost of a smile.

Harry poured himself a glass, and took a sip. Then he looked at Draco, who was still kneeling on the floor, looking up at him with his odd little smile in his haunted face. Harry downed the whole glass. “Yes,” he said finally, and put down the glass. “I want it.”

The smile deepened. “I told you.”

“Oh, God. This is awful.”

Something wiped clean in Draco’s face. He stood up, turning away. Harry had known Draco long enough to know that he was pulling on a mask. Normally, anything he could say from this point on would on fall on flat features, a cool tone of voice, with eyes staring at him as though through tiny holes, revealing nothing. But this time Draco was on Veritaserum.

Harry didn’t like taking advantage of others, but he was only human. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Draco whirled around. “I’ve revealed to you something I’ve always believed to be ‘awful’. Then I began a relationship with you, and you’ve been teaching me to accept myself, and-I hate Veritaserum-”

He looked more ill than before in response to the things the serum was making him say, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He tried to take Draco’s hand, but Draco recoiled. “I’m sorry,” said Harry.

“Now I’ve finally worked up the courage to face this part of myself and you-you-”

Harry was an idiot, was what he was. He spread his hands, wanting to explain, and hoping that the Veritaserum would help him along. “You may have spent all this time accepting this part of yourself, but it’s something I . . . I’ve never faced it in myself. I never thought to face it.”

Draco sneered. “Have you thought about facing it now?”

Now Harry felt ill. “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Shock registered in Draco’s face. “I didn’t think of that,” he said, obviously not meaning to say it.

Harry waited. “You didn’t think of what?” he asked finally.

Draco looked down. “I didn’t think you hadn’t accepted it about yourself. You’re always . . . you’re so . . .” He wasn’t fighting the Veritaserum this time, but instead searching for words. “You’re so bloody confident.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not. Trust me, I’m not.”

Draco looked up, teeth tugging on his lower lip. “Then . . . then maybe it’s a bad idea.”

He meant the part about him being on his knees all the time and shoving dildos down his throat and being fucked in the men’s.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Harry said, without thinking about it. It wasn’t true; he thought it was a really bad idea, especially the part about the men’s. But obviously, it was true; some part of himself must think it was a really excellent idea.

“But if you’re not confident, you can’t . . . . What I want requires . . . .” Draco bit his lip and looked away again. “I don’t think I could act that way if you weren’t perfectly sure of everything.”

“Why not?”

“The moment you needed reassurance, I would tell you it wasn’t on. Even if I desperately wanted it.”

Harry thought about it a while. “You can admit to the things you want under Veritaserum.”

“But then I . . .” Draco wrapped his arms around himself, sucking in a breath. “If I had to say what I wanted on Veritaserum every time, first of all you would have to force feed me the Veritaserum. I wouldn’t take it willingly; it was hard enough to do it just this once.” At last, he looked at Harry. “I don’t think you would like that.”

Harry opened his mouth and spoke, just to check. “No.” Good old Veritaserum. “And secondly?”

“Secondly.” Draco’s eyes fixed onto a point behind Harry in the room. “Secondly, I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to hear myself asking. I don’t want to have to face the fact of what I want every time. I want to tell myself I do the things you ask because I have to obey you, and not for any other reason.”

“That means that I’m the one who has to face the fact of what I want every time,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes.” There were unhappy lines beside Draco’s mouth. “I guess I still expect you to be the strong one.”

“Is that what you think?” Harry came closer. “You think I’m the strong one?”

“You’ve always been strong, Harry.”

Coming closer, Harry put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be the man I am without you.”

“I should have you take Veritaserum more often,” Draco said lightly. His tone was ironic, but he looked both grateful, and a little sad.

Harry was thinking hard. “There should be a way.”

“I’ll put it in your creamer,” Draco suggested.

“No.” Harry’s hand came off Draco’s shoulder. He was thinking hard, dealing with the inner resistance. This was hard for both of them, both of them disgusted with themselves in different ways. Somehow, that didn’t seem right. It was together that they were strong. That was why he’d married Draco. “If we both want to do those things you said, we should be able to,” he said. “I should be able to do it for you.”

Draco turned away, his neck angled. “Put that way, it sounds unfair.”

“You don’t want it to be unfair?”

Draco flinched. “I may want to get tossed about, and fucked hard like a whore, and be used by you as though I was nothing more than an object for your pleasure, but I-I always thought that we were equals, Harry. I know that you don’t-”

Harry closed the distance between them. “I thought that maybe you thought we weren’t,” he said. “We are. We’re equals. You’re as strong as I am. Sometimes I think stronger.”

Draco’s breath was against his skin. He subtly shifted his hips. “We could start now.”

“No.”

Draco let him go, and the disappointment was palpable. “I thought,” he began, and stopped himself.

“I said we should be able to,” Harry said, somehow less able to soften the correction under Veritaserum. “I mean, I think we can, if I just . . .” He thought about it some more. “What if you tell me what you want right now?” Harry suggested.

Draco gave him a look. “I think I’ve made it fairly clear what I want.”

“No. I mean, what if you tell me what you want-everything you want-right now. Tell me everything. Everything you’ve ever imagined, every fantasy; we’ll dose up on Veritaserum. You may not have liked having to do it, but you’ve come this far; you could just keep going, and tell me, and then later, when it wears off, I could-we could-”

Draco swallowed hard. “That might work.”

“Yeah?” said Harry, trying not to sound too eager.

“Yes, but if . . .” Draco appeared to be thinking about it. “I wouldn’t like you to remind me that I’ve told you I wanted these things. You would just do them, and act like you didn’t care if I wanted them or now.” He dropped his eyes. “I would never know what was coming.”

Harry caught his breath.

“Can you do it?” Draco’s voice was low.

“I might be able to, if . . .” Harry found himself pausing in the same way Draco had. The Veritaserum was making them answer carefully. Meanwhile Draco was starting to look dreamy. “I would like to set the guidelines first.”

“Hmm? Guidelines?”

“Yes, guidelines. You said we could have guidelines.”

“What? Oh. My brilliant plan. I don’t want this all the time.” Draco cocked his head. “Do you?”

Normally, Harry would have given it some thought. When Draco snapped into focus like that, like a bird or a lizard deciding whether it wanted to eat you up, it meant you really better think about your answers. But Harry was on Veritaserum, and couldn’t answer any other way. “No,” he said, which was a relief, because he hadn’t thought he wanted Draco as-what was it?-a personal sex slave at all times. But wanting Draco at all as a-a sex servant, that was nicer (slut, Draco’s voice whispered)-had been a bit of a surprise to him.

As he had told Draco, he had known it, but-well, everyone had crazy sex fantasies, right? Ginny had even once told him she had fantasies about getting raped, and he knew for damn well certain she didn’t want to be raped, and she knew it too. Harry had just never been as honest to her as she was to him, and he had never thought any crazy fantasies one might have could ever actually be acted upon. He had equated all of them to that kind of terrible violence, when what Draco seemed to be talking about actually wasn’t that way at all.

“Sometimes I would still like you on your knees,” Draco said, “all slicked up for me and begging for me to fuck you; I love the way you hold me when we fuck and make me feel like-Veritaserum can also be very distracting,” he finished contemplatively.

“Yeah,” said Harry, and resisted the urge to adjust the ache in his trousers. “I’ve noticed that.”

Draco nodded. “Anyway, I still want that. And I don’t want you to control my daily life or routines.” He tilted his head to one side. “Though it would be interesting if you sometimes made demands that affected my daily life and routines.”

“Okay,” said Harry. “But you mentioned . . . Draco, I just can’t do this if I don’t know when you want it. There has to be some kind of off-switch.”

“Safe word,” corrected Draco.

“What?”

“I’ve been researching.”

“Researching?”

Draco looked smug. “It’s a way I can say no or stop, without having to say no or stop. I mean, if I say no or stop, then you can keep going. But if I say the safe word, you know I really don’t want it.”

“Good,” said Harry, relieved. “I want that.”

Frowning, Draco said, “I’m just worried I’ll say it all the time because I know I can.”

Harry was beginning to get annoyed. “I’m going to be doing stuff that’s hard for me. You have to do something that’s hard for you.”

Draco looked at that spot on the wall again. “I don’t want it to be hard for you, though. I thought it wouldn’t be. I thought that you could just come in, and be so powerful and in control and confident-you know the way you sometimes get, and I would just have to do whatever you said because you’re so-when you get like that, you’re just so-”

Harry lifted his brows.

Draco took a quick breath. “You make me want to lie back and get fucked like the worst kind of whore, when you’re like that,” he muttered.

Harry wanted to lay him back right then. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, and proceeded to draw on the armour that apparently got Draco so hot and bothered, though Harry had never known that. Draco always made fun of him, the way Harry’s voice got flat and hard, the way his face went smooth, the way that all of him went still, except for a hand that occasionally twitched by his side. It was always, “Mr. Mood” or “God, Harry, take a potion” or “Mean Old Auror,” with Draco, never, “so hot you make me want to be your whore.” God, Draco was such a little liar.

Of course, this was not power or confidence at all. This was what Harry had to do when he was afraid. He had learned it, once, when the Snitch had told him he was going to die. He had obediently walked into the forest to do so.

Harry made the decision, then. He could do this. He wanted to do this for both of them. He could do this if Draco had overcome his own fears this much, and would continue to fight against them.

He looked Draco over. Draco shuddered. “Let’s put it this way,” Harry said coldly. “You’ll never know it looks hard for me. You’ll never even suspect. You’ll think it’s all so perfectly easy.” He paused. “Is that what you want?”

Mutely, Draco nodded. His eyes slid to the floor. He trembled, just a little. “I didn’t know,” he said, because even if he hadn’t been able to read Harry when he was this way before, he knew exactly what Harry was saying now. “I thought you were just-braver than me.”

Harry laughed, strangely harsh. “I’m in Gryffindor because I’m supposed to be brave, but the things I did-they were often not about that at all. They were about survival.”

Draco looked up. “Then you should have been in Slytherin.”

“Maybe.” Harry’s voice was still flat, giving nothing. “Will it work for you, if you know that-” now that he had begun the sentence, Harry couldn’t stop; Veritaserum made it so hard. When he was in this kind of mood, he realized, he usually lied.

He wondered if this was something he should have kept from Draco, after all. Then they could have done what Draco wanted, yet a part of him was glad. He wanted it out in the open; this should be honest, at least. Here it came: “If you know that I’m afraid?”

Draco was silent for a moment. Then at last he came closer, touching Harry’s elbow. Somehow that seemed sweet, and Harry looked up. “I prefer to know,” said Draco. “I do love you, Harry.”

The world went very silent.

Draco coughed. “Veritaserum is so much fun?” he said

Harry just smirked. “Did you forget why we got married?”

“I remembered.”

Harry’s eyes got heated, looking Draco over again. “Why did you marry me?”

“I love you,” Draco said, frowning.

“What was that, again?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I love you.”

“I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I love you.”

“Was there any other reason you married me?”

A flush was beginning on Draco’s cheeks. “I adore you, Harry, don’t be a ponce.”

“Were there other reasons besides those?”

“I want to be with you always, this isn’t fair.”

“And any other reasons?”

“You’re my whole world, please stop.”

“Honey,” said Harry, in that same cool, steady voice, “I can go all night.”

Draco shivered, whether in response to the tone or the threat, Harry couldn’t tell.

Harry slowly raised his brows again. “But not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to tell me every sordid way one fucks a whore.”

Draco shivered again. “God, yes.”

Harry relaxed a little, taking Draco’s wrist. “Then we’ve got to pick the safeword,” he said, in a lighter voice. “And you’ve got to promise me you’ll use it.”

Biting his lip, Draco nodded. At last, he shook himself too, sighed, and sat down. “I was thinking of something different.”

“Such as?”

“What if there was something like a signal in a room? If it was turned one way-green, for instance-then you would know you could . . . do whatever you like. If it was turned the other way, you could-well, you could do whatever you like, except for these things we’ve mentioned.”

“Why not just a safeword?”

“Because if you wanted to . . .” Draco twisted his hands, and then made himself stop doing it. “If you wanted to do something like get home from work, and order me to be on my knees for you for the rest of the night-” The blood was never, ever going to leave Harry’s crotch this way-“and I had to use my safeword, because I didn’t feel like it then, I would feel more like I could do it whenever I wanted. But if the signal was turned to green, then you would just-you would know what you could or couldn’t do.”

Harry thought about it. “And if I came home from work, and tried to do that, and you told me the safeword, it might make me self-conscious. I might not feel alright asking for something like that again.”

Draco gave him a look. “You haven’t asked for that once,” he pointed out.

“I mean in theory,” Harry said absently, still thinking.

Draco sighed. “I wouldn’t like it anyway. I would always be able to see the signal, and I would know, and I’d-I’d always be switching it to red just because leaving it to green would make me feel like-like-”

“Like you wanted it,” Harry finished for him.

“Which I do,” Draco concluded. He looked miserable.

Harry would have done just about anything to get that look off his face. “What about a spell?” he asked. “It’s a spell coded just to me, that’s difficult enough that you can’t just-just do it accidentally, but easy enough that if we’re . . . well, if we’re in the middle of something, you could cast it and I would know.”

Draco chewed on his lips. “You mean a spell that lasts as long as I want it to, but only you can feel. And you know that if I take it off, I’m-I’m fair game.”

“I was thinking the other way around. When it’s on me, I know that-that you want me to do something. When you take it off, I know you want things to be normal.”

Draco shook his head. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. “It’s easier for me to tell you to stop than to tell you to go. Besides I . . . I’d like to leave it on a lot.”

“You mean, you want us to . . .” Harry searched for a way to say it. “You want us to play the game a lot?”

Draco’s nose wrinkled at Harry’s choice of words. He was still chewing his lip, not looking at Harry. “I want the option to be open a lot. So you have to decide. So you can just-whenever you want me to. Whenever you-God.” Finally, he lifted his eyes. “Who would have thought it’d take so much manoeuvring, just to be your fuck toy?”

Had this conversation been going any other way, the idea of Draco being his fuck toy would have sent blood straight to Harry’s cock. Instead, he thought he might be getting a migraine. He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“Harry-no.” Draco quickly took his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. This is-this is good. It’s so good.”

Harry looked up. “Why?”

“The way you’re saying these things, helping me plan it all out. It’s going to be even better than I thought. Because we’re both going to want it, and I’ll have ways to say-to say what I want, but they’re ways that I can face. I want it so badly, but this is-I need this. It’s so good. But it’s really hard.”

“Veritaserum does make you babble.” Harry turned over Draco’s hands, running a finger along the palm, up the arm. Up to Draco’s Dark Mark. “Alright. You leave a spell on me whenever you don’t want to play the game, and you leave it on until you want to play again. Then you take it off. Whenever it’s off, I can tell you what to do, and we’re playing the game. It’s an easy spell, and one that only I can feel. Is that good?”

“Yes,” Draco breathed.

Harry traced the raised skin of the scar. “The spell is something you learn to do wandless, so that if I-if I take away your wand, you’ll always have a way to do it, either by an incantation or a motion.” Harry paused. “And there’s a back-up spell in case something goes wrong.”

Draco nodded.

“Okay,” said Harry. “Before you tell me anything, here are the things I know that I can’t do.”

Draco closed his eyes. “Please don’t say the public toilet thing. I really, really want it. Harry, I want it to be filthy.”

Harry’s hand paused, tracing the scar. “I won’t say the public toilet thing. I’m not sure about that, but there are some things . . . there are things I need to think about. There are probably things I need to work up to.”

Draco shuddered.

“And maybe there are things we can work on together.”

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head.

“I think we can,” said Harry, still tracing the Mark. “The things I’m going to tell you are the things I absolutely, positively, can never do.”

“Alright,” said Draco, and gulped.

“I can’t do anything that will permanently damage you,” said Harry. Draco ducked his head, and after a moment nodded. Harry guessed it was reasonable. It seemed bloody reasonable to him. “I can’t see you in pain for an extended period of time.”

Draco looked up, opened his mouth. He closed it. Swallowed. “What about painfully turned on for a long period of time?”

A part of Harry’s brain could not believe they were having this conversation at all. The rest of Harry’s brain was somewhere down at his cock, having a field day. Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them, letting the Veritaserum once again speak for him. “If the pain is caused just by your arousal, I could stand it. If you’re tied too tight or-” He really actually couldn’t believe the words that were going to come out of his mouth-“stretched too wide and it’s causing you physical pain-”

“What about discomfort? Can you do discomfort?”

Draco seemed vaguely eager at the idea of discomfort, which should have been more disturbing, but in light of this whole conversation, it really wasn’t. “Yes,” said Harry, having to take a deep breath again. “I can do discomfort. I can’t take-I can’t take the idea of you being tortured.”

Slowly, Draco’s mouth was being replaced by a wolfish grin. “I don’t think I like extreme pain.”

“You don’t?” said Harry, relieved.

Draco shrugged. “I must not. I’m on Veritaserum. In fact,” he cocked his head to one side, “I don’t like the idea of anything that breaks the skin, except for a very little biting, and maybe if there’s-if there’s a . . . a crop involved, but then only a finite number of lashes, and if it did break my skin, the first time it did you would put it away. And lick me,” he added, then cast his eyes ceiling-ward. “Ta, Veritaserum.”

Harry let out his breath in relief.

“What else can’t you do?” Draco asked.

Harry didn’t have to think too hard about what his objections were. As soon as he went to answer, Veritaserum made him do it honestly. “I’m never, ever going to let anything be put inside you without lube, oil, or something just as greasy and slippery.” But Harry had to say, that one sort of startled him. It seemed quite nit-picky, when you thought about it.

Draco was half smirking at him. “Really, Harry. I didn’t know that about you,” he said, coolly.

Draco was laughing because Harry had always been insistent on it. It was not as if Draco was always trying to shag without it, but it was definitely the case that he had wanted to once or twice and Harry had absolutely refused. It went both ways-he’d refused to let Draco do it to him and refused to do it to Draco. Draco hadn’t minded, saying only, “Spit is absolutely, positively not lubricant; it’s awful.” Harry knew just enough about Draco’s past lovers to know he didn’t really want to hear more about it, and after those two times, Draco had never suggested it again. And conveniently, never run out of lube.

Draco’s mouth was twitching now, on the verge of the wolfish grin again. “Tell us something we don’t know,” he told Harry.

Harry opened his mouth. He thought he was going to say things about involving other people, and he didn’t know, bondage or anyone calling him “Master” and things like that, but no sound was coming out of his mouth. He shut it again.

So, he realized, that was all he had been absolutely set against: hurting Draco. And not having lube. Harry was fairly surprised to realize that this was so. Yes, he was concerned about all the rest. In fact, he was terrified: what if he humiliated Draco-actually humiliated him, deep down, in some kind of irrevocable way; what if Harry liked it? What if Draco wanted to stop and Harry couldn’t; what if Harry wanted to stop and Draco couldn’t; what if-what if-what if? This was really petty: what if Draco laughed at him?

But Harry realized he could face all that. If he knew he would never hurt Draco, he could be careful about all the rest. He trusted Draco enough, and he trusted their relationship enough, that they could work this out. “That’s it,” said Harry.

Draco’s eyes went wide again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I thought there was more, but-but that’s all. There might be some I haven’t thought of. If there’s something else I think of, I’ll let you know.” He shrugged. “But what it really boils down to is I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Draco, and lunged. He was kissing Harry, and Harry had been hard on and off for so long in the past half hour that it was difficult to concentrate. Draco was the way he was when he got excited, all warm squirming happiness-sort of like a puppy. When Harry had mentioned that, once, Draco had become extremely unhappy, and rather pointy. Sort of like a porcupine. But Draco was happy now and his mouth was wet and his nose was cold and he was everywhere, hot on Harry’s skin.

Harry pushed him away. “We’ve still got to talk,” said Harry.

“Bugger talking. Let’s have lots and lots of love-making.” Stricken, Draco pulled the rest of the way away from Harry. “I’m disgusted that I just said love-making.”

“Hm,” said Harry, and looked at Draco with half-lidded eyes. “Veritaserum makes you tell the truth, you know.”

“Ugh. But honestly, Harry, now that you’ve been so brilliant and everything, I just want lots and lots of-”

“Equality?” Harry said innocently.

“I was going to say your arse,” said Draco in disappointment, “but yes, that too.”

“That’s too bad.” Harry shook back the hair from his eyes. “Because if we instate this regime, I reserve the right to dose you with Veritaserum whenever the light is green.”

Draco went pale. “Harry,” he began, and stopped.

“I won’t use it very often.” Harry was not using a gentle voice. He was using one of the tones from work, when he was dealing with a dark wizard and knew exactly what he was doing, because maybe Draco liked that too. Maybe Draco needed that just now. “Hardly ever. I told you earlier, you were right: the idea of forcing Veritaserum down you or tricking you into drinking it doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Why then?”

“Imagine this, Draco: I’ve fucked you six ways to Sunday. I’ve used you as my own personal fuck toy. I stuffed you full of fake cock and I’ve made you walk around in it all day. I’ve . . . I’ve made you lick up come I fucked into your own arse, and I’ve made you say you like it; I’ve made you-made you lie on the table while I eat dinner off your arse. And now I’m fresh out of ideas; I’ve no idea if you’ve enjoyed any of it. I’d be afraid; I’d hesitate to keep it going. Say it’s two months from now. I’d want to have a conversation just like this again, so I can know what you want, and make sure that honestly, you still want it.”

Draco’s eyes were wide and his thin chest was heaving. “I’ve never-I’ve never thought of that, of you having dinner off my arse. That’s-that’s brilliant.”

“We need to be able to talk about it from time to time.”

“Never talk about that one, Harry. Just do it. Get me naked, lie me down, make me be your table. Just use your knife and fork and eat-eat curry off of my arse, and-and-cutting lamb on my arse cheeks; do you even realize . . .” Draco usually sort of got this way when he hyperventilated, which was not often, but it did happen, sometimes.

Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll do it only if you focus, Draco.”

“Yes.” Draco was completely distracted. “I’m focused. I’m perfectly focused. I’ll do anything. What’s the question?”

“Can I dose you with Veritaserum when the light is green?”

“Yes. When you eat off my arse, Harry, act like it’s the most normal thing. Like I’m just a . . . I’m your plate. And I’ll be such a good plate, Harry; I’m going to be the best plate, and afterwards you’ll . . . you’ll clean it, eat out of my arse, Harry, and then you’ll-you’ll just leave me there, because I’m just a . . . just a table for you and-” Abruptly, with what looked like a physical jolt, Draco cut himself off. He put his head in his hands. “Will you listen to me? I sound like such a mental case.”

Harry didn’t know what to do. “If you’re not a good plate, I’ll punish you,” he suggested, because it seemed to be the kind of domineering thing that Draco wanted.

“No, no no, that’s all wrong.” Draco pulled his hand through his hair and did not look up. “You can’t do it that way. Not to comfort me. You’ve got to think only of yourself.” He turned up tired looking eyes to Harry. “Maybe this won’t work.”

“Because I need to be able to talk to you?”

“Because I’m a mental case, and apparently want you to treat me like utter shite! Of course you want to talk to me about it.” Draco was really agitated. “I should want to talk about it. Instead I’m getting so side-tracked by the thought of being dishware that I don’t want to have to even think.”

“But you don’t always want to be dishware,” Harry pointed out. “Most of the time you command a lot of respect, in fact.”

“I want that too. I need it. I crave respect; I-” Draco closed his eyes desperately. “Why are there two separate parts to me that want such different things?”

Oh. Two separate parts.

Like the part of Harry that had walked into the forest to save the world.

And the part of Harry that thought the world should just fuck off and die in a fire, already.

Those two parts. Harry thought that he knew what Draco meant. “I think it’s going to work,” said Harry. “I’m going to fetch you water. You drank that wine too fast.” He stood up. “Where have you been keeping the Veritaserum?”

“In the cupboard.” Draco looked up at him. “Why do you think it will work?”

Harry didn’t really know, but the Veritaserum compelled him to make an answer: the most truthful one possible. He shrugged. “I respect you enough to treat you like a dinner plate.”

Draco just stared at him. “I’ll get it,” he said, and went with Harry to the kitchen.

Draco opened the cupboard, moving a package of biscuits, the flour, and a big jar, and brought out a slender vial from a stand of slender vials.

“I don’t think mine is worn off yet,” said Harry.

“My name is . . . Draco Malfoy.” Draco shrugged. “Mine isn’t either.”

They brought the water and vial back into the living room, where Draco seated himself on the couch, still looking a little anxious around the eyes.

Attempting to ease Draco’s nerves somewhat, Harry said, “Where did you get the Veritaserum?”

“I brewed it.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re really good with potions. And you’re very clever.”

Draco looked down. “I hid it from you.”

“That’s okay. I see now you had your reasons.”

Draco didn’t look up. “What I said about respect. I wouldn’t want you to cater to it, when the light was green.”

“I wasn’t catering to it,” Harry said in surprise. “I was . . .” He had to stop to think about it. “Saying what I think.”

“I wouldn’t want you to say what you think.”

“You’d want me to lie?”

“Yes, but only when we were . . . playing the game. I-I-” Draco struggled with the Veritaserum. “I like when you say I’m clever. When you praise me, it makes me feel . . .”

He struggled against the Veritaserum, until Harry took pity on him. “Good,” he suggested.

“Better.” Draco met his eyes. “When the light is green, I don’t want to feel . . .”

Harry didn’t know how to help him this time.

“This is very difficult,” Draco said. “I want to feel good. I want to play this game because I want to feel good, and because I think it might make you feel good too. And I don’t want to feel worthless. I don’t want you to think I’m worthless.” His voice went low. “I just want you to tell me I’m worthless.”

Harry opened his mouth to say that he couldn’t, and instead found himself saying, “That is difficult.” He looked at Draco, who looked miserable. “Do you know how much I think you’re worth?”

Draco nodded. “That’s how I’m able to ask you this.”

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much do I think you’re worth?”

“You think I’m . . .” Draco’s voice caught. “You think I’m priceless.”

“Beyond even that,” said Harry, his own voice feeling thick.

Draco’s eye lashes swept down. “Write a Celestina Warbeck single, why don’t you.”

Harry looked at him a long time. “You just want me to say that: ‘you’re worthless’? Like that?”

“I want . . .” Draco swallowed. “For instance, instead of saying that I was clever, you could have said, ‘I bet you think yourself clever’. But then you could say that I wasn’t going to get around you. That I’m a manipulative little brat, who thinks I’m always going to get what I want, just because I’m a stuck up little know it all.”

Harry’s heart was twisting. “Do you think that?”

“No.” Draco paused. “I was like that at Hogwarts.”

“Are you trying to punish yourself for back then?”

“I don’t know.” Draco seemed unable to meet his eyes again. “Perhaps I’m rewarding myself for the ways I’ve changed.”

“But you want me to say those things to you.”

“It doesn’t have to be those things in particular.”

Had this been a different conversation, Harry might have thought Draco was being obtuse. Veritaserum made you answer questions, but it didn’t make you volunteer information. Draco had said a higher dose made him babble, but either it was wearing off, or this was getting into more serious territory.

Patiently, Harry thought of the next question. “Tell me which things in particular you would like me to say,” he said, “or if there is nothing in particular, give me examples of the kinds of things you want.”

Draco’s face was a strange mixture of relief and pallor. “I want you to call me names. Slut, whore. I want you to tell me I’m just . . . I’m just an object, a toy, something for you to fuck, that that’s all I’m good for. I want you to tell me I’m a cunt.”

“That’s a really horrible word.”

“I know.”

“And people use it on women,” Harry pointed out. He thought back to what Draco had said about being ashamed. “Is it because it’s a word used on women?”

“It’s . . .” Draco struggled to find words. “Because it’s used to degrade women. As if all they are is . . . that.”

Harry thought about it some more, taking into account also how abject Draco looked just now. “Do you want me to tell you you have a pussy, too?”

Draco’s head jerked up. “Yes,” he said, in a choked voice.

“And you want me to tell you you’re a dirty worthless slut, who’s only good for taking it up the arse, and getting fucked full of cock. Is that-is that right?”

“Sort of.”

“Except for the hesitation on the end there,” Harry said.

“Yes, but it’s . . .” Draco had to swallow again. “I want you to tell me I like it.”

Harry frowned. “You said you didn’t want to have to face the fact you want it.”

“It’s different if you’re telling me I want it. I can pretend I don’t agree with it, that you’re just trying to . . . debase me further.”

“You want me to tell you you’re a dirty fucked up slut, and you love taking it in the arse; you’re a cocksucker who loves having cock rammed down his throat.”

“Yes,” breathed Draco.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. “I can’t say it right now.”

“The Veritaserum?”

“Yes.”

A small smile played at the edge of Draco’s mouth. “Well. It’s mostly true.” His eyes were getting brighter. “I do love taking it in the arse; I’ve sucked your cock. And I think I would like having your cock rammed down my throat.”

Harry licked his lips, which were suddenly dry. “Do you . . . want me to make you call me . . . something?”

“N-sometimes Daddy. Oh God.” Draco’s face went beet red. “Sorry.”

Harry just looked at him for a long second. The force of Draco’s blush made his hair seem that much brighter. “Don’t be sorry about any of it. I want you to tell me the truth.” He paused. “How long have you wanted this?”

“All of my adult life.” Draco looked mortified again, but this time didn’t apologize. “I haven’t thought that I could have it and live with myself until two months ago. I thought about it for three weeks. And then I began to brew the serum. I very much wanted to be honest with you.” The last sounded a trifle pleading.

“I understand,” Harry said, and took Draco’s hand.

“Did you . . . did you want me to call you something?” Draco said.

“Harry. Sometimes Daddy.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, and grinned. “So. Are you going to tell me the way you want me to fuck you, or are we just going to talk logistics all night?”

“I’m going to tell you the ways I want you to fuck me.”

It was so arrogant and happy, the way Draco said it. The smile was back at the corner of his mouth. “Come here,” said Harry. It felt weird to be talking about this sort of thing while sitting across from Draco on the couch, so Harry pulled him to him, until Draco was spread out all along Harry and his head was on Harry’s shoulder.

“Mmph,” said Draco.

“The fucking,” said Harry.

“Yes. You can fuck me really hard, Harry.”

“You know I’ve fucked you hard before.” Harry paused. “Or was that not . . . hard enough?”

“It’s usually wonderful.” Draco lifted his head to look at him. “Even when it’s not, it’s nice, and we have some good laughs. I said I like the ways we have sex. I just want . . . more ways.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Okay.”

Draco’s eyes searched his. Apparently content with what they found there, Draco put his head back on Harry’s shoulder. His hand skated idly down Harry’s chest, his flat stomach. “Rougher,” he said finally. “And less like you care about me.”

“I’d be doing it because I care about you,” Harry couldn’t resist pointing out. Maybe it was the Veritaserum.

“Less like you care about my orgasm,” Draco said.

Harry looked down at him, all he could see the profusion of bright hair. “Want to wear a cock ring?”

“No.” Draco was pulling up Harry’s shirt. “I want you to fuck me, and I’ll get off on it, and you don’t care. You just keep fucking me until you’re done, and if I don’t get off-you just don’t care.”

“I sound like a bastard in this scenario.”

“Some part of me likes bastards.”

There were plenty of things Harry could have said about that, about Draco’s past, about his father. He remembered what Draco had said about living with himself, and didn’t say anything. Instead, his heart beat harder. Warmth welled in his chest, because Draco could tell him this. Draco trusted him with this. “What else?” he whispered.

“Then you would fuck me again.”

“I’ve also got stamina, in this scenario.”

Draco’s mouth curved against Harry’s chest. His hand was inside Harry’s shirt, idly playing with the hair just below his navel. “I mean that in this scenario, I’m all fucked out. I’ve come and can’t come any more, and you just keep fucking me. And then after that, you fuck me with a dildo. And then after that, you fuck me again, until I’m so . . .” He sucked in a breath. “I’m so loose and wet that the things you put in me almost just . . . slip right back out.”

Harry’s cock was hard by now, and not from the way Draco’s hand had moved from inside Harry’s shirt to just below the rim of his jeans. “That’s a lot of lube,” he said, putting his hand in Draco’s hair.

Draco’s mouth curved again. “You like lube, Harry.”

“What else do you want?”

“I want to be pumped full of come.” The curve went away, and Draco pressed his forehead hard against Harry’s shoulder. The hand just inside his jeans twisted in the hair there. “I want to be full of come and lube and everything. I want to be messy and sticky and just . . . a hot mess.”

“And then you want me to eat it out of you?” Harry guessed, because he already knew Draco loved rimming.

Draco gave a full body shudder, shifting against him so that Harry could feel he was hard, too. “Yes. I want-yes.”

“You mentioned that when you said you wanted me to use your arse for a table.”

Draco went completely still at that. His forehead was still pressed in at Harry’s shoulder. “I really like that idea,” he said finally.

“I had gathered.”

“I like the idea of . . . of . . .” Draco appeared to be searching for words. “You liking the way I taste.”

“I already like the way you taste.” Harry shifted, in case Draco hadn’t already felt how hard he was.

“I know. It’s just the thought of being so . . . so hot and messy and wet for you.” Draco might just be short circuiting. His hand was still clutched tight in the short hairs below Harry’s navel.

“Want me to pump you full of honey?”

“Oh my God.” Draco choked.

“How much?” said Harry.

Draco only gradually got back his breath. When he regained it, his voice was low and rough. “Just enough for you to tongue it back out of me.”

Harry brushed the soft, fine hair back from Draco’s ear. “Sounds sweet,” he whispered. Then he brushed the hair back and said in a more normal voice, “I rather like you on Veritaserum.”

Draco pulled up to look at him, the hand finally loosening on his abdomen. “Really?”

“I like these sorts of things,” Harry said gently. Then added, “As long as it’s hygienic.” Which was a bit of a joke, since Draco was one of the most fastidious people he knew.

“The magic of cleaning spells,” said Draco.

“What else?”

“The rest you just fuck right out of me. I want it leaking down my thighs.”

“I really like you on Veritaserum.” Harry resumed stroking Draco’s hair. “What else?”

“You’d shove a dildo in my mouth to shut me up.”

“I like the sounds you make during sex,” Harry pointed out.

“In this scenario, you’d say you’re tired of me moaning like a whore.” Draco’s hands was under Harry’s shirt again, this time up Harry’s chest. A nail scratched his nipple at Draco’s words, and Harry sucked in a breath. “You like it; we both know it. But you tell me I’m such a horny slut, I just want to get filled up any way I can. And you’d ask me whether that was true. I’d just glare at you, but when you told me to open up for the big thick cock I’d do it anyway.”

“Jesus.” This time, it was Harry’s hand tightening in Draco’s hair. Then he let go, trying to keep his breathing even. “You’ve sucked the dildo before,” he pointed out.

Draco gave a minute shake of his head against Harry’s shoulder. “Not that dildo.”

“What?”

“I want one that’s big and brightly coloured.” There was a pause. “With sparkles.”

For the first time, Harry had to try in earnest not to laugh. He felt pretty bad about it. “Er,” he said, trying to turn it into a cough. “You want a pretty dildo?”

Draco’s head made that small movement again. “No.”

“Then wha-”

“I’m going to get some more Veritaserum.”

Draco got off of him, and Harry sat up. “Hey,” he said, Draco pulling loose of his attempt to grab his wrist.

Draco went over to the table and neatly poured half a vial in one of the glasses of water. Tipping his head back, he took a long, cool draught, then turned away from Harry.

Harry stood and went over to him. “I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I didn’t mean-”

“No.” Draco put down the water. Harry was full of trepidation, but when Draco turned to him, the corner of his mouth was twitching. “That has to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever said in my life. I want to play a grovelling sex slave from time to time, Harry.” The corner definitely turned up. “It doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind.”

“So.” Harry smiled slowly. “Sparkles.”

Draco gave a quick nod. “It’s because of how fake it looks. Ours is so realistic. I want to have to be reminded about how I’m shoving a big fake-looking ridiculous toy down my throat or up my arse, that I’m getting off on-on plastic objects.” He clicked his tongue. “It doesn’t make sense. I just want it.”

“It sort of makes sense.”

“Right. Your Vertiserum’s gone off.” Draco poured the other half of the vial into the other glass.

“I was going to wait on that.”

Draco gave him a sidelong glance. “You don’t want it?”

“I’ll drink it if I’m at all tempted to hide anything,” Harry said.

“But what if . . .” Draco grimaced, realizing that under the Veritaserum, he would have to voice his fears. “What if you agree to something you don’t really want, just because I say I want it?”

“I won’t. If you think I am, I’ll drink it.”

“Here’s an easier way,” said Draco, disgruntled. “Drink it now.”

“Not yet,” said Harry, and stepped closer. “This way I can tell you you’re a dirty fucking slut.”

“Oh,” said Draco, and his eyes filled with his pupils.

“Come on and drink the rest of this,” Harry said, and gave Draco his half full glass. The other glass still stood full on the table.

Draco drank it, looking at Harry over the rim of the glass the whole time. There was something about that that made Harry’s blood quicken. When Draco was finished, he took the glass away. “Come with me to bed.”

“Okay.”

Harry pulled him closer, tilting Draco’s head so that he spoke into his ear. “You’re already hot for it, aren’t you.”

“Yes,” breathed Draco.

“Because you’re such a filthy little whore.”

Draco’s breath quickened. He laid his hands flat on Harry’s chest.

“Don’t just stand there like a horny fucking slut who can’t do anything but wait to get his cunt filled,” Harry said. “Go get on the bed. And take off your clothes.”

Draco, breathing very hard, sounded like he might cry. “Thank you,” he whispered, and then turned to do what Harry said.

go to: part 2