All Those Silly Things I Did

Harry knew that whenever Draco Malfoy thought of him, this was what he saw. This right here, Harry bound and gagged, arms stretched above his head, wrists knotted together at the bed frame. White silk scarf stained and pulled down around his neck, bottom lip bruised and bloodied. Immobile, helpless, The Boy Who Lived To Serve, Draco's bitch.

Sometimes Harry thought that should bother him, that Draco wanted to hurt him. Only he knew that wasn't really what it was about. It was that Draco wanted Harry's blood on his hands, not to hurt him, but to feel him. He often said that Harry was untouchable, even though it was Draco himself who disliked lingering contact. He said Harry was too real, too alive. He wanted to subdue him, distort him, smear his lips cherry red and metallic.

It was times like this that Harry wondered what the fuck was wrong with Draco, but more so, what the fuck was wrong with him. To like it so much. To want it, ache for it. The feel of Draco's fingers digging into soft flesh, the sting of teeth and the taste of his own blood.

Arching his back against soft sheets Harry looked to Draco. The boy looked decadent as ever, still mostly dressed, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, buttons undone. There was a smear of something by his hairline. Blood or semen, maybe both, Harry was beginning to forget the difference, both a source of pleasure and pain. Draco said Harry begged to be beaten. As much as he begged to come, Harry had never once considered that it might be untrue.

"What's this Potter?" Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Ready for round two?"

"Malfoy..." Harry started but knew it wasn't worth bothering. Draco would do what he wanted anyway.

"Now, now Potter. Don't make me gag you again, you know how hot that gets me."

Harry closed his eyes, biting back a comment about everything getting Draco hot; and waited. It wasn't as if they hadn't played this game before.

Before too long he felt nails on his skin. Not long, perfectly manicured and sculptured girl nails. Boy nails. Bitten rough and just long enough to scrape down Harry's chest and leave a mark.

The welts didn't hurt that much, Harry didn't know if Draco knew that or not. It wasn't until Draco bathed each one with his tongue that they started to burn. A deep, throbbing heat that seemed to come from inside and made Harry wonder if he wasn't the one creating it.

It was so easy to blame Draco though. He'd been doing it for years now, whether he meant to or not. Had it drummed into his skull a long time ago. "If it isn't You Know Who's fault Harry, then it must be Malfoy's." At times like this Harry hated his friends.

"You're not paying attention Potter," Draco's voice was muffled as he bit down sharply below Harry's navel. Harry closed his eyes and arched his back, feeling the sting travel all the way to his heart.

"Sorry."