ravenna_c_tan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ravenna_c_tan) wrote2008-12-04 01:14 pm
ravenna_c_tan) wrote2008-12-04 01:14 pm
Entry tags:
Part Two
Title: Balanced on the Sword's Edge, part 2 of 3
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Pairing: Lucius/Harry (with some other side pairings that I won't list for fear of spoilers)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Consensual sex, nonconsensual sex, and dubious consent (yes, all three). Rape, sexual slavery, piercing, whipping, bondage, blood, forced exhibitionism, double penetration, first time.
Summary: Harry Potter never escaped Malfoy Manor after being brought there by the snatchers (though Ron, Hermione, and the rest did, taking Draco with them). Without Harry there, the Battle of Hogwarts went quite differently, and now, after several months as Lucius Malfoy's personal pet, Harry's mind, body, and soul are quite different than they were as a schoolboy. He clings to his prophesied purpose, though, and knows he must stay alive to have a chance to fulfill it.
Disclaimer: Non-commercial fanfic.
A/N: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clauclauclaudia and strickens_girl for beta-reading! The needles are there as a tribute to Sanguine, a Serpent Knotted Sable by Amanuensis, the granddaddy of all Lucius/Harry fics. Originally written for HP Darkfest.
Prompt:
"For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest." -- Lord Byron
Part One: on LJ
In the morning, Harry says the words that neither of them would speak the night before. They are on their way from the breakfast salon to the office. "It seems like... like the performances are... escalating."
Lucius makes a noise of agreement. "It is no wonder that Bellatrix, for all her throwing herself at him, has never once interested him in that manner."
"What about her husband?" Harry blurts, it only just now occurring to him that her being a Lestrange means that she has a husband, and what must he think of her vamping?
"Rodolphus?" Lucius makes a dismissive sound, a more casual sound than Harry has heard before from him. "It was an arranged marriage. And I don't think he cares much about appearances. He's probably got some shameful vice of his own that she ignores."
Harry has a sudden, unbidden pang of shame himself. "I'm sorry. I... I forgot about Mrs. Malfoy."
Now Lucius is laughing at him. He's attempting to hide it, but the mirth wells in his eyes and he lays a hand on Harry's shoulder. "And you're concerned that last night you usurped her place in my bed? Such a sweet thing you are. Narcissa, when she is here, has her own suite, you know."
"Oh." Lucius' hand is warm on his bare shoulder. Then Harry finds himself pulled into an embrace made of Lucius' robes.
"Yes, the performances are escalating," Lucius says. "But we shall not hurry to disaster. You must appear as docile as can be when we are with them. Docile, and pliant." He thumbs Harry's lower lip. "And sensuous."
Harry stiffens in Lucius' arms as this hint of Lucius' plan suddenly penetrates. "I'm... to be the bait?"
"You are the bait and the trap, both," Lucius says, breathing warm into his hair. They stand that way for long moments, before Lucius goes on in a more pragmatic voice. "It won't do for your first time to be in front of them all. If you're to keep your wits about you... you'll need to learn to take a cock up your arse."
At that pronouncement, Harry does not stiffen again, but stays stock still in Lucius' embrace. "Your cock," he says, just to be sure.
"My cock," Lucius affirms, then steps back. "Now, to the office. There is correspondence I cannot neglect."
Harry nods and follows him. This time, as he lies bound and stretched upon the desk, he tries to imagine what sex with Lucius will be like. He thinks it will be okay, if he is mostly able to concentrate on what Lucius smells like, wine and woodsmoke and cologne and the day's sweat... except that they will likely do it after the nightly toilette? He thinks if he can be utterly wrapped up in the scent of him that he'll be able to bear anything. He supposes that Lucius' plan makes sense. He will need to learn to deal with the pain, so that even while he is being torn apart on the dais, he can be ready to make his move. Still, he trembles a bit, anticipating the pain. His courage does not fail him, but it is one thing to leap into a battle, entirely another to lie quietly and make oneself a sacrifice.
Lucius' hand finds his heart. "Impatient?" he teases, looking up from his letter, as he feels the organ hammering under Harry's ribcage.
When Harry does not answer, he finds Lucius looking into his eyes.
"Are you afraid of me?" Lucius asks. When Harry shakes his head, Lucius clucks his tongue. "You've convinced yourself you are not, but your body remembers that it's me who wielded the whip." As if to prove the point, Harry shivers as Lucius' hand strokes his side. "I know I am asking a lot of you."
Harry nods. It's a price he's willing to pay. More than willing, if it will rid the world of Voldemort. What's a little pain when compared with that? "It'll be worth it," he says.
"Yes, yes very," Lucius says, a sudden look of hunger in his eye. With a flick of his wand, the ropes and ink and quills are gone, and Harry fears that Lucius has decided to take him right here on the desk, right now.
But Lucius sees the look in his eye, and draws him naked into his lap instead. "You still don't trust me."
Harry shakes his head, although whether it's to deny what Lucius says or affirm it, he doesn't know.
"Did you forget I said I wouldn't take you until you were ready?"
"Yes, but... you... you might decide that I'm ready..."
Lucius laughs softly. "True. But my actual words were that I wouldn't take you until you trusted me. That is how I'll know you're ready."
"Ah." Harry finds himself relaxing into Lucius' arms, the heat of the fire and the warmth of his robes comforting.
"I think it's time we added something more to the routine," Lucius murmurs. "The last time you came was here in this room, nearly a month ago."
"I don't need..."
"Hush. I think we should add one orgasm per day for each of us."
"All right," Harry says, as if he has some say in the matter. "When?"
"Well, I've been thinking about that," Lucius goes on. His voice is deep when they sit like this. "I think I shall decide when you come, but you shall decide when I come. It needn't be at the same time each day, of course. But as it will happen only once, we must choose wisely."
Harry nods, absorbing this. He finds himself rubbing his cheek against the wool of Lucius' robes. "May I... make you come now?"
Lucius chuckles.
"Er... no time like the present?" Harry goes on.
Lucius nods, and without dislodging Harry from his lap, sends the owls off with their correspondence. Then he lifts Harry up, like a bridegroom carrying his bride over the threshold, and settles again on a leather-covered seat for two closer to the fire.
"Your hand," Lucius says, reclining and letting both arms rest along the back of the seat. "Go on, take it out."
Harry is very familiar with Lucius' robes and clothing by now. Very familiar with his cock, too, though he hasn't held it like this in a long time. And he's never felt it come to life, pulsing in his palm, as he coaxes it to its full length. He licks his lips where a question hovers.
It is only after a few minutes of stroking that he manages to ask it. "Are you... that is, I think you're larger than Lestrange."
Lucius opens his eyes at that, but says nothing.
"It's hard to judge from a distance of course, but..." Harry shrugs.
Lucius chuckles. "You are right. Lestrange has ever been ashamed of his small penis, and has tried enlarging it with potions. The problem is that the larger he makes it, the less sensitive it becomes. So he stopped enlarging it some time ago."
Perhaps it's good if Lestrange is smaller, Harry thinks. If Harry gets used to taking a larger cock, that can only help him be ready. And Draco, maybe Draco will be able to survive longer if the man's prick is smaller...
It's a strange sort of optimism to be engaging in. Lucius does not say anything more about it, instead giving Harry suggestions in a low voice, on how fast, and where to touch, and how tight, until with a groan he is spurting heavily all over his robes. Harry marvels at the energy that seems to pulse through the flesh in his grip.
Lucius Vanishes the mess with a flick of his wand, then pulls Harry close for a kiss, but pulls away suddenly after a few moments as if he hadn't meant to do so.
Harry sucks in a little breath, swallows. "Did I do something wrong?"
Lucius seems too breathless, too shocked to speak. He gives a little shake of his head, and this time Harry kisses him, breathing deeply of Lucius' scents.
Lucius' hand seeks out Harry's own cock, and Harry's moan is muffled by the lips that now seem reluctant to leave his.
But leave him they do, as Lucius pulls back, lets go Harry's cock, and rights his own clothes. Lucius licks his lips. "I haven't decided when your orgasm shall be," he says, still a little breathless, but with a veneer of his usual aplomb coming back.
* * *
Much later, at dinner, Lucius teases him with words rather than with touches. "Goodness, Harry. I should have been promising to let you come all along. You've barely spent a moment flaccid since we left the study." Even Harry's nipples seem to harden when Lucius looks at him admiringly.
"Is it... is it harmful?" Harry asks, remembering what Lucius had said about the erection potion.
Lucius touches only his cheek, the edge of his lip. "No. Not when come upon naturally. Ah, to be so young."
Harry cannot help it. Every time his mind wanders, it goes back to that moment in the study when Lucius was kissing him and stroking him at the same time. Harry drops his gaze, not out of submissiveness, but in shyness. He doubts Lucius is a legilimens like Snape, but he feels like it must be obvious what he's thinking.
Especially when Lucius says, "Later."
He feeds Harry a forkful of something that seems to be made from dark chocolate and air. Harry makes a sound as he swallows it, possibly the best thing he has tasted since coming to the Manor. When he looks up Lucius is leaning over and beckoning him for a kiss. Harry rears up and meets his mouth, only to find an intense flavour there. Lucius' tongue darts out to open his mouth and Harry is suddenly drinking some kind of liquor, directly from Lucius' mouth.
This time it is Lucius who makes a sound.
They share another bite of the dessert, and another mouthful of smoky cognac, and then Lucius declares "later" to have arrived. "Let's go up to bed," he says, voice huskier than chocolate or cognac alone could account for.
Harry is delighted when Lucius enfolds him in his robes, just behind the bedroom door, carried away on the scents buried in the cloth and in Lucius' skin. Harry finds himself nuzzling at Lucius' neck, then crying out hungrily as two of Lucius' fingers begin a slow torment, stroking upwards feather light on the straining organ. Harry tilts his head for another kiss, and finds Lucius saying against his lips, "I told you it would be better if you trust me."
Harry thinks maybe he understands now. If he didn't trust him, then he wouldn't really be willing to do this. He'd consent to go through the motions but he wouldn't really want to...and that would have made it rape.
He's no longer questioning whether he wants to. Well, when it comes to being fucked he's still got a lot to worry about with that, but this... this is something else. He cries out suddenly, spurting hotly all over Lucius' robes, and into the palm of his hand as Lucius quickly moves to harden his stroke, coating Harry's cock in the slippery stuff and prolonging the orgasm a few more precious seconds.
And then Harry sags boneless in his arms. Lucius laughs and scoops him into bed, and it takes Harry a few moments to realise, oh, he's put me into the bed, oh, he's not getting in, oh, he's undressing himself. "I should...?"
"Hush. I'll be there shortly," Lucius says. He cleans his teeth and detangles his hair with a charm and then slips, utterly naked, into the bed with Harry.
Harry swallows. Lucius' erection is hard to miss. Harry puts a hand on Lucius' thigh.
Lucius shakes his head. "I've already come once today, remember?"
"But..."
"Choose wisely," Lucius intones, then urges Harry with his hands to roll over and spoon against Lucius' body. Lucius shifts until his erection is tucked between Harry's thighs. "Good night, Harry."
Harry wants to argue that it seems wrong to him. It feels wrong, like Lucius is going to bed without supper. But he finds he cannot argue the point. "Good night," he answers, letting his post-orgasmic lassitude pull him down into sleep.
* * *
They sleep that way every night for a week—even the nights when Harry plans for Lucius to come immediately before bed. He wonders if Lucius has a charm or a potion or if it can really be how much Lucius wants him that insures a throbbing erection between his legs each night. A few months ago it would have been an utterly repulsive thought. Now, he wonders what he can do to show Lucius he is ready.
It is the night of the weekly entertainment. Tonight Amycus Carrow fucked a Ministry representative of some kind until he bled to death. Harry never did find out what the man's position had been, but he apparently had tried to thwart the Dark Lord's agenda somehow. Carrow used a knife to cut a hole in the man's thigh, a great bleeding gash, and he fucked the gash with great glee. Harry found he couldn't even view it as sexual at all until Carrow came with a great bellow, and then the Dark Lord himself stood up, stroking his cock in anticipation, then inserting it into the hole slick with come and blood, the body still warm, perhaps even still barely alive.
Tonight Harry had worn some new adornments, wide silver bands at wrist and neck, paper thin and shined with charms. Lucius had stroked his hair possessively throughout the performance and at the end, the Dark Lord himself had complimented him on Harry's appearance, both beautiful... and submissive. Lucius made a noncommittal hint about Harry's training.
Now they are home, and Harry wants something to erase his memory of the blood. He drops to his knees the moment they are in the bedroom, seeking through Lucius' robes and his trousers for his cock, needing quite suddenly to suckle on it like a babe seeking comfort at his mother's teat.
Lucius allows it. Harry was half fearing that he would not, but he feels the fingers of Lucius' hands combing his hair as he takes his cock into his mouth. Harry moans as a salty stripe of precome is painted down the centre of his tongue when Lucius comes to hardness.
Lucius charms away the silver bands and Harry notes it with the back of his mind. His concentration is wholly taken up by the cock in his mouth, too large for him not to heed every moment, lest he gag like he did the first time earlier in the week. He had sucked him three days in a row after that, trying to get it right, and now he finds it a comfort, like diving again and again into deep water. Three days in a row... though that hadn't been how he'd always made Lucius come. Perhaps Harry is learning by example, but once he just teased Lucius to the edge of orgasm... and then told him that it was not the time he'd chosen for Lucius to come yet. Amazingly, Lucius took it good naturedly. Well, perhaps not so amazing, as it had precipitated a lovely bit of revenge, too, with Lucius later telling Harry... after he'd stroked him and licked him and brought him to the edge... that his time would be when the chime on the mantel clock rang. Unfortunately, Harry had no way of knowing when that would be, and Lucius threatened a punishment if Harry came too soon...
It is only now that Harry realises he doesn't know what the punishment would have been. He strained to hold back his orgasm because... because he wanted to. He wanted to see if he could, and he wanted to please Lucius, and he had known there would be payback for his earlier trick... and it had been a torment, but a wonderful torment. It feels like a game between them, and he realises Lucius made it one intentionally.
He raises his head, lips disengaging from Lucius' swollen prick with a wet sound. Neither of them has come yet, today, and Harry is sure they were both thinking the same thing, which was that tonight it should be mutual. "To the bed?" Harry asks softly.
"What do you have in mind?" Lucius' voice is rich like chocolate, fully amused.
Harry pulls him by the hand, pulling him all the way until they are spooned, tucking Lucius' cock between his thighs, just under his balls, and then rolling slowly onto his stomach. "Like this, please."
Lucius kisses him on the back of the neck. "A wise choice," he whispers, then takes the jar of lubricant from the side table, slicking his hand with it. He pulls back from the crevice just under Harry's arsecheeks where his cock is situated and slicks it as he thrusts the head alone back into the crack. His cock slides easily in the fleshy gap between his legs and Harry groans it feels so good. Then Lucius insinuates his slick hand under Harry's belly, until Harry's own erection is pressing into his palm.
"I'm going to fuck you until you come," Lucius breathes into Harry's ear, and thrusts into the gap, pushing Harry's own cock against his hand as he does. Harry gasps at the sensation, at the scent of Lucius surrounding him as Lucius' hair closes around him like a curtain, at the feeling of Lucius' weight on his back and the thing which feels something like penetration. It isn't real fucking, Harry knows that, but oh... if it could feel like this, he wouldn't fear it at all. Lucius' thrusts are slow, and at first Harry thinks it is because Lucius is teasing him. It becomes gradually clear that the slowness is the only way Lucius can keep himself in check.
Soon he cannot even do that, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic, and yet he holds back, and holds back, and holds back until that slippery spill pours out of Harry. Harry cries out, and Lucius's answer follows quickly after, ringing in Harry's ears like joy and triumph. They both sleep soundly, very soundly then, flaccid and sated.
* * *
It all goes wrong the next day.
Yaxley and both of the brothers Lestrange appear in the midafternoon. Tea time. Lucius has a bare moment to turn to Harry and hiss "On your knees!" with a flare of urgency in his eyes, before his mask of disdain descends and he pulls open the door.
The three Death Eaters are ranged there, Rabastan in the lead with a slave in some kind of leather hood in front of him on a leash like a dog. The man crawls forward and now Harry can see it is Draco, the hood has two points on it like dog ears and he has some kind of a muzzle or gag in his mouth. They stare at one another while Lucius greets the men, ignoring his son and Harry completely for the moment.
He greets the Lestranges with some effusiveness, but he is merely cordial to Yaxley. Harry wonders about their history. He would have thought Lucius would be cold toward Rabastan, but maybe he has to be nice or Draco will suffer for it? Harry doesn't know. He watches as Draco crawls, still on the leash, further into the foyer. He has something that looks like a tail sticking out of his anus, and his cock hangs down, wrapped in some kind of metal and straps. Harry doesn't want to look at it too closely.
Lucius directs them all into the tea salon, conjuring a scrap of fabric over Harry's genitals as he takes his seat and then shooting a jealous glare at the others. Rodolphus guffaws at this. "You can't be serious, Lucius. You won't even let us look at him?"
Lucius clucks his tongue. "I won't have him serving tea with his prick hanging out," he says. Then, "Harry, the tea."
Harry jumps up and hurries to the kitchen. Thankfully tea service is one of the things he's had to learn during the first few months of his training. At first, Lucius had even dressed him in a tea towel, and said it was because Harry had freed Dobby that he was being put to such schooling. Harry had resented it terribly at the time, and each mistake had earned him a thin red welt across the backs of his ankles or his hands. But over time, he has learnt to prepare and pour tea for Lucius.
This should be the same, he thinks. Only for four of them, as clearly Draco isn't having any. And there are other elves besides Dobby, who spell the water hot nearly instantly, and load the tray with jam, and scones, and cream, and every other thing such that Harry can barely carry it.
He brings it into the room and sets it carefully onto the cart, trying to make no noise. Not only because that is as he was taught, but so he can listen to what they are saying. They are talking about the Ministry, and about the Resistance. Harry keeps his face impassive and his eyes down. Now would not be the time for an outburst. But oh, it's hard, when they talk about Muggleborns they've killed, especially when they are people he knows, or relatives of theirs.
Soon he has poured for all four of them, and settles again on his knees at Lucius's feet. He bows his head just as Yaxley says, "He'll want something special for this week's entertainment, you know."
Lucius rises to the bait. "Oh, why is that?"
"His damn snake died, and I say good riddance, but you didn't hear me say that." Yaxley laughs and so do the other two. "Had to be poison of some kind. A snake like that's hard to kill. I think the poison was probably meant for him, but... oh, he's quite livid about the whole thing."
Harry's heart hammers. Ron and Hermione must still be destroying the Horcruxes. By now, Nagini might be the only one left...? He had been willing to try to kill Voldemort anyway, to at least send him back to the half-life that he had been in before, but to know there was a chance, a real chance, to destroy him...
"Whom does he suspect?" Lucius asks, sipping at his tea.
Rabastan speaks in a hushed voice, one hand petting Draco idly. "No one's been accused, not yet. I'd have thought Snape, except the snake already had him for dinner months ago. But none of us liked that thing. Not after being forced to watch it dine on occasion." He makes a disgusted sound. Harry nearly laughs out loud at that. As if being made to watch people fucked to death is somehow better...?
Lucius nods. "Yes, I agree. He'll want appeasing."
Harry dares to glance up through his overlong fringe and sees three pairs of eyes trained steadily on Lucius.
"You can't be serious," Lucius snarls.
Rabastan answers with a sneer of his own. "Oh, I assure you, we are quite serious. And besides, the Dark Lord isn't the only one whose been waiting for a taste of your little sweetmeat there."
Lucius sets his cup and saucer aside with an uncharacteristic clatter. "Oh, so you waited until I tamed him before wanting to step into the lion's cage?"
Yaxley laughs and makes a meowing noise in Harry's direction. "Meek as a pussy, is he now?"
Rabastan's eyes are hard. "Meek. It's you, Lucius, who have become meek. You've never been the same, since your wand was taken. You're too soft on the boy; we can all see that."
Harry curses inwardly. If they'd expected a challenge like this might come, they could have easily made sure Harry appeared with fresh welts on his back or something. But they haven't done anything like that lately...
To Harry's surprise, Lucius laughs. "And if I have been enjoying the slut he's become a bit too indulgently, am I to be faulted for that? Yes, I admit it. We spend much less time in the dungeon of late and much more in the bedroom. And anywhere else I can get the slut to spread his cheeks for me. No, gentlemen, I cannot turn aside this accusation. You know my skill with pain, my taste for power, but I have gorged myself lately on a steady diet of pleasure."
Harry swallows hard as this speech is delivered. Lucius' voice is like velvet touching his skin. And from his vantage on the floor, he can see it is also having an effect on at least one of the guests. Yaxley's erection is prominent in his trousers.
"Indeed?" Rabastan says, sipping from his own cup and then running his tongue along his lower lip. "I should like to see that."
Lucius barks a short, dismissive laugh. "Indeed, did you not come here to insinuate that it is my turn to make a spectacle of myself in front of the Dark Lord?"
"I mean now," Rabastan says, voice silky. "It has been a while since I've witnessed the plying of... pure pleasure. Can you make him come untouched?"
There are sounds of agreement from the other two.
"I have been trying to train him to come on command." Lucius threads his fingers into Harry's hair, and it feels as indulgent as he claims it is. "But he is slow to train, as you can well imagine. Part of the fun, of course, is that the boy does not take naturally to any of it."
Rodolphus slaps Rabastan on the back, though his words are for Lucius. "Unlike the slut here who used to be your son, eh? The boy had his legs spread and was begging for it before Rabi here even raised a hand to him."
"Show us what he can do," Rabastan says, setting his teacup aside. "Come now, Lucius. If you're reticent to perform in front of us, I'd be happy to have a go."
Lucius does not answer in words, instead pulling Harry by the hair up into his lap, and pulling him into a heated kiss. Harry can feel the desperation in the way Lucius plumbs his mouth, though to the others it surely looks like domineering passion. It is as if Lucius is trying to tell him through the kiss... what? That they are in danger? That he has no choice? That he wishes it could be another way?
Harry tries to reassure him the same way, but kisses are inexact messengers. His heart is hammering hard; this wasn't how he hoped it would be, and he hopes he can bear it in front of the others... and yet it's thrilling at the same time, this urgency. Music springs from somewhere; Harry is not sure if Lucius has conjured it or one of the visitors.
Lucius turns him in his lap then, so Harry's chest is exposed to the others, and his cock, too, as Lucius eases the fabric over it and tucks it under his bollocks. He suckles at the back of Harry's neck and cups his cock with his bare hand, until Harry tries to thrust into it. Then he pulls his hand away, so that all three Death Eaters can see Harry come to full hardness just from Lucius' love bites and quick pinches on his nipples. Harry can see them, too, and Draco, who looks as if he has not moved a muscle since sitting back on his heels. He closes his eyes and concentrates on Lucius's touch.
Lucius draws one fingertip across the dewy slit, catching up the glittering opal of precome that has gathered there. He suckles his own finger like a chef sampling an incredible creation. He smacks his lips, then says to the others, having to pitch his voice slightly louder so they can hear him over the music, "I shall have to cut off his potions, though. The Dark Lord seems to like his... holes to be as loose as can be."
The men chuckle at that. Harry realises it's true... the times when Voldemort takes his pleasure it seems to be there's possibly no friction there at all for him, the flesh is so ruined. Perhaps, Harry thinks, it's that there's no resistance, and that's what he gets off on. He doesn't really want to think about it, though, and he must concentrate on Lucius, on being here with Lucius and putting on a good show. Like they do this every day, several times a day. He cannot help but gasp, though, as Lucius banishes the thong entirely and slips a finger across the crinkle of his entrance.
"How come he's so tight, if you've been fucking him so much?" Yaxley demands to know.
Rodolphus' laugh is wicked. "Didn't you just hear? Said he's on a potion. How tight does it make him?"
"Well," Lucius says, reaching between Harry's body and his own with his wand in order to spell open his trousers, "when he was a virgin, I found I enjoyed taking him so much, that I wanted to repeat the experience. Again and again. The first few times, I Obliviated him, so he even thought it was his first time more than once. Now, though, it's enough just to feel his tight little arse squeezing me. Honestly, I think if I let him get as loose as all the fucking we do would make him, he'd be only all the more insatiable. I'd find him fucking the candlesticks next."
"I'd like to see that," says Yaxley.
Harry closes his eyes. He cannot imagine Lucius doing as he said, Obliviating him and then doing it all again... well, he could imagine it, actually. When he thinks about the way he'd thought Lucius was before. But he can't square that image with the one he has now, of the man whose bed he's been sharing.
There's the Lucius the Death Eaters know, or think they know, and there's the Lucius that I know, and they are not the same, Harry thinks. And then all thought stops as Lucius' bare cock touches his spine. He lets out a moan of desire. Unfeigned. If anything, having the others watching only heightens Harry's arousal. The danger of the situation only sends his blood surging even more.
Lucius shifts then, moving Harry forward onto the ottoman, folded over it with his arse toward Lucius. Suddenly the warmth of Lucius is gone, and Harry holds still, wondering what is happening. But it seems Lucius is just admiring how he looks from all sides, and then comes a sharp "Incarcerous!"
There are appreciative sounds from the audience as Lucius's spell binds Harry's hands in place, each to one of the ottoman's feet. His legs are still free, though. He tugs a little on the bonds, but there is a kind of logic to them. Harry doesn't have to do anything this way. It's quite... safe. Almost like the silencing charm that frees him when they are with the Death Eaters to think whatever he likes without fear he'll say something wrong.
He feels something cold and hard on his back and wonders why the others are laughing. Then he gathers from their jokes about tea time that it is a jar of clotted cream. The cream is cold as Lucius circles his entrance with a fingertip, but it warms quickly.
Lucius narrates as he pushes one finger in, perhaps distracting the others from how much time and care he is taking. "After the game of Obliviation grew tiresome, I decided making him into an utter fucktoy was really the next step. I started making him wear a plug in his anus, charmed to vibrate from time to time. Over the course of weeks I gradually increased the size of the plug until it was possible for me to pull him to me at any moment and just start fucking him without any preparation at all. I got a bit carried away, though. The plugs eventually got larger than I was." He gives a wry chuckle and the others laugh with him. "Once he took to the training, the insatiable thing, I had to use an Engorgement Charm on my own cock to satisfy him. That was when I decided it was time to get back to basics, and put him on the potion that made his arse virginal to me all over again. Now he wants it... oh, he wants it so very much, don't you, my dear toy?"
"Oh, yes, oh yes please..." Harry finds himself saying easily.
"Yes, he wants it, but he fears it, too. Because now he remembers how much it can hurt."
Harry bows his head. He realizes there is a thread of truth in everything Lucius is saying. Is that what the next step would have been, soft plugs that would stretch him gradually until he could accommodate Lucius' cock easily? He hadn't realised that Lucius knew how afraid he was of how much it would hurt.
He also realizes, as Lucius fingers plunge in and out of him, that Lucius could have put him under Imperius just now. It would be like binding him, only moreso. He wonders why Lucius did not, but also remembers that to get through this, he will have to trust Lucius.
He realizes that he does. He does trust Lucius, to protect him from these men.
He realizes one more thing before thoughts cease again for a while, and that is that Lucius' fingers pistoning in and out of him feel good. So very good.
But there is no more delay, no more time, no more waiting, as Lucius positions the head of his cock against Harry's anus. Harry clutches at the legs of the ottoman and closes his eyes. It feels impossibly blunt, impossibly large...
He cries out as the head goes in, pain flaring at its widest point, then fading as the tight ring of muscle grips the slightly narrower shaft. Lucius swears an oath that sounds quite heartfelt. Harry trembles as he begins to move, but the pain now is nothing more than a dull ache, not at the entrance but deeper inside him... and then Lucius shifts his angle and the ache on each thrust changes suddenly to a sparking warmth and pleasure. Harry moans. The closest thing he can come to describing it is having his cock stroked. Except this isn't his cock and it's inside...
He moans and pushes back against Lucius, wanting more of that.
Rabastan chuckles. "He is quite the little slut."
Lucius makes a dismissive sound, as if Rabastan should have known better than to doubt him.
Harry cannot believe how good it feels. He is opening up, so much looser now, and it feels like Lucius' cock fits inside him perfectly. He whimpers not with pain, but with loss, when Lucius pulls out completely, and begins to tease him again with the head, pressing against him all around his entrance without going in.
"Oh please..." he finds himself saying. Begging. "Please put it in, please." He can't remember wanting anything else in his life this much.
"Yes, so needy," Lucius croons, stroking his back and then obliging him.
They all fall silent as Lucius settles into a rhythm except for the little moans Harry makes on every other thrust. Harry loses himself in it. He barely feels it when Lucius works a hand around his chest, but then quite suddenly the bonds dissolve, and Lucius pulls Harry upright, thrusting up into him, both arms around his torso.
"I want you to come when I say," Lucius says into his ear. "Can you do that for me? If you fail, you'll need to service all three of them to appease me."
Harry's answer catches in his throat. He manages to force out a question. "Un-untouched?"
"I wouldn't call this untouched," Lucius replies, thrusting harder. He drags a finger across Harry's nipples and Harry gasps as the sensation seems to shoot directly to his cock.
"Come for me, come now." And quite suddenly Harry is coming, spurting up onto his own belly, his cock feeling like it's going to catch fire. All of him explodes and he has nothing to compare this to, the weightlessness of flying? the kick of firewhiskey? He cries out because he can't not.
He gradually becomes aware of Lucius' arms, still around him, and of the softening thrusts, the slick, wet drip. Lucius must have come, too, and he is milking out every last drop of his pleasure, until at last he slips back limp onto the chaise, pulling Harry with him. He presses a kiss to the back of Harry's neck and pulls him close, wrapping the edge of his robe over him.
Harry nearly wants to fall asleep like that, but he tries to stay awake enough to hear what the men say now.
"Well, well, Lucius," Rabastan says. "It would seem you're nowhere near as shy as the Dark Lord believes you are."
Lucius yawns as if this little pronouncement is of no consequence to him.
"I'm sure he'll be pleased if you put on such a display, although..." Rabastan speaks now as if he cares greatly for Lucius' welfare. "He may be disappointed with how... plain the subject matter is. You ought to spice it up a bit or it won't do, if he comes to think all you do all day is get off on the boy. In fact, he won't be happy at all at how much the boy seems to like it. And just now is not a good time to fall under the Dark Lord's suspicion, is it, Lucius?"
Lucius lets out one slow chuckle. "Rabastan, your desire is plain to see on your face. Shall I let you have a go at the boy when next we meet at the cloisters? There is no reason you should not ask plainly."
"Very well." Rabastan adjusts his robes. "I want him. But that does not help your position, Lucius, which is precarious in the Dark Lord's eyes. He thinks you've gone soft. I, myself, am wholly convinced of your quality, but... you know how the others talk."
That sounds like a flat lie to Harry—Rabastan isn't convinced at all. He's never heard people lie so blatantly to each other before. It's terribly confusing.
"Yes, well, perhaps you can be of some help to me then," Lucius says. "After all, you didn't think I'd just give Potter to you?"
Rabastan's voice is sharp. "Name your price."
"Draco. I propose a trade, Potter for Draco. After you've fucked him, you can decide whether the trade is permanent, or just for the night."
Rabastan's laugh sends chills down Harry's back, even though he is snug in Lucius' arms. "He'll see through that too easily. You just want to get your son home and safe."
Lucius licks his lips. "I said you'd be the one to decide whether it was a permanent trade or just for the night."
Rabastan hums as he thinks, a low growl in his throat. "If it is just for the night, you know you won't get away with him sitting pretty at your feet."
Now it is Lucius' laugh that makes Harry cold. "Oh, Rabi, you think so highly of your depravity, you never consider fully someone else's. I won't, of course, offer you the trade officially, until I have sampled your goods."
Yaxley guffaws. "You incestuous bugger. No wonder Draco was begging for it, the slut."
Harry has no way to tell now which is the lie. Did Lucius and Draco have an incestuous relationship before? Or is Lucius saying now that he'll... Oh, God.
"Would that satisfy our Lord's needs, Rabastan?" Lucius asks coolly. "I'll fuck Draco as the opening act, say, and you'll have Potter for the finale? As I say, you can decide if you want to keep him after the Dark Lord's through with him."
Rabastan's face is a mask of greed. He gets to his feet and the chain of the leash rattles as he gives it a tug. "Very well, we have a deal." He holds out his hand. Lucius deigns to shake it, though he does not rise.
"If you will see yourselves out, gentlemen," Lucius says, pulling the robes a bit tighter around himself and Harry, "all this excitement has left me in need of a nap."
Lucius must have some way of knowing when they are gone, Harry thinks, because a few minutes later, he feels the tension go out of him. And then Lucius' voice comes, slightly muffled by Harry's own hair. "I'm sorry. That wasn't at all how I envisioned your first time."
Harry pulls one of Lucius' hands up to his mouth and kisses it. "It... it wasn't so bad."
"That hardly sounds like an endorsement."
"No! No, really. I... I quite liked... I mean, I didn't expect..." Harry finds himself tugged around to face Lucius and silenced by a kiss. When Lucius lets his mouth free he tries again. "I thought it would hurt much more."
Lucius brushes his cheek. "If I'd had adequate time to prepare you, it wouldn't have hurt at all." His face is pained. "But of course you'd think that it would. Given what you've seen."
Harry isn't sure what to say to that. "You're going to trade me for Draco?"
"Unless you can think of something else," Lucius admits, his voice soft. He raises his wand and Summons the foil-thin cuffs and collar he has had Harry wear to the entertainments.
To Harry's surprise, Lucius puts the cuff onto his own wrist. It slips on like a bracelet and then tightens to fit snugly. Harry watches fascinated as Lucius seems to snap his fingers and the cuff leaps into his hand like a silvery fish.
A silvery knife?
He twitches again and the knife-like thing snaps back into place on Lucius' wrist.
Harry licks his lips. "They'll suspect you of helping me, though, won't they?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps your instinctive magic finally delivered you the tools you needed to finish him, once he was in your clutches? Besides, if you succeed, and the Dark Lord is vanquished, will it matter? You made your wishes clear, Harry. Help me rescue Draco and kill the Dark Lord. This plan accomplishes that."
Harry nods. "I just have to... let Lestrange fuck me until I'm half dead, and then when V-- the Dark Lord gets his hands on me, let him have it."
Lucius pulls him close. "Yes."
"We have almost a week until then."
"Yes."
Harry puts his arms around Lucius' neck and nibbles at his mouth. "You'll fuck me every day until then?"
Lucius is breathless. "Multiple times, if you like."
"Good." It is the last word Harry speaks for a while, as they drift to sleep together, restless but spent.
Harry wakes first, the last light of evening just leaving the windows. His hand seeks out the warm flesh at Lucius' groin, tugging him gently both to hardness and wakefulness. Lucius does not speak, but merely growls hungrily. He summons a jar, and Harry can tell by the scent this is not clotted cream. Whatever it is feels incredible as Lucius loosens him, greases him, stretches him, then settles between his legs. Harry is already wrapping his legs around Lucius' back, or trying to but the robes are in the way. Lucius Banishes them wordlessly, and then they are skin to skin, man to man, and Lucius presses inward until he is completely sheathed in Harry.
Harry is gasping, but not with pain, with lust and need and a sense of being overwhelmed. The feeling of being overwhelmed only grows as Lucius begins to move, the bulk of him disappearing into Harry's hole over and over again.
An hour goes by but they are lost in the timeless rhythm, shifting position from time to time but never stopping. Sometimes Lucius fucks him with just the head, with short rocks, other times he settles into long, slow strokes, filling him completely and then pulling back just as slowly, savouring every inch.
Another hour disappears but the only part of Harry that feels sore is his throat, and he could not care less about it. They haven't spoken a word since before they fell asleep and he certainly has no desire to speak now.
He gasps as Lucius grasps his cock and looks intently into his eyes. There is no holding back. Harry comes quickly, the amount of issue coming forth smaller than usual, but he hardly cares. He relishes the feeling of Lucius losing control, slamming into him as he finishes himself, relishes more the kisses that follow, and he licks the salty sweat from Lucius' upper lip with a contented noise.
They sleep again, and it is well after midnight before a single word is uttered between them. When it comes, it is Harry, who whispers, "I trust you."
And Lucius answers, lips pressed to Harry's hair as he speaks, "And I trust you."
* * *
For two days, they have sex at nearly every possible opportunity. In between eating and sleeping and practicing with the cuffs that become knives, Lucius is inside Harry, or preparing to be. Lucius has lotions and potions that keep Harry's flesh from being uncomfortably abused by the incessant penetration, even when the fucking takes place in the bath, or on the parquet floor, or on the grand staircase.
And in the bed, of course. The second night Harry climbs astride him, riding him first to his own climax, and then to Lucius'. It is after that time, as intense and physically demanding and cathartic as it was, that Harry nestles close in his arms and asks, "Did the Dark Lord ever tell you the prophecy?"
Lucius' murmur is as thick as chocolate sauce, a lover's voice, though his words are nothing like post-coital murmurs should be. "No. I presumed at the time that if I had succeeded, I would have listened to it with him. The cursed thing."
Harry is not sure if Lucius is referring to the prophecy or to Voldemort himself with those words. "The gist of it was... that one of us will be the death of the other. But it didn't say which."
Lucius is silent a long moment, but Harry knows he has heard him because Lucius' fingers in his hair tighten fractionally. Finally, he speaks. "Fate never uses a broken wand," he says.
"Er... what's that mean?"
Lucius chuckles softly. "It means... you're very likely to succeed, Harry."
Harry can tell he's lying, which in and of itself is a surprise, but even more surprising is that he finds he doesn't mind. Because he does trust Lucius, and maybe some lies are for the best? Harry figures it's a coin flip for Fate, so he has a 50/50 shot of surviving. But maybe Lucius needs to believe that it will all come out right. After all, if Voldemort kills Harry, what are the chances that things will work out for Lucius and Draco?
They still have a few days left to think of something else. Harry would suggest that they just kidnap Draco out from under Lestrange's nose and go into hiding... but that leaves Narcissa vulnerable, and besides, Harry cannot run away from the prophecy.
He presses a kiss against the golden stubble on Lucius' chin. "You should... hurt me tomorrow."
Lucius' eyes snap open at that. "Hurt you?"
"If... if I'm really going to be able to stand what he's going to do to me... shouldn't I be prepared?"
Grey eyes search his. "I don't know that I can train you to eroticize pain in four days time."
Harry does not blink. He presses a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss against Lucius' lips, never looking away, and says, "I think you already have."
He could swear the emotion Lucius hides then is heartbreak.
* * *
(on to part three!)
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Pairing: Lucius/Harry (with some other side pairings that I won't list for fear of spoilers)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Consensual sex, nonconsensual sex, and dubious consent (yes, all three). Rape, sexual slavery, piercing, whipping, bondage, blood, forced exhibitionism, double penetration, first time.
Summary: Harry Potter never escaped Malfoy Manor after being brought there by the snatchers (though Ron, Hermione, and the rest did, taking Draco with them). Without Harry there, the Battle of Hogwarts went quite differently, and now, after several months as Lucius Malfoy's personal pet, Harry's mind, body, and soul are quite different than they were as a schoolboy. He clings to his prophesied purpose, though, and knows he must stay alive to have a chance to fulfill it.
Disclaimer: Non-commercial fanfic.
A/N: Thanks to
clauclauclaudia and strickens_girl for beta-reading! The needles are there as a tribute to Sanguine, a Serpent Knotted Sable by Amanuensis, the granddaddy of all Lucius/Harry fics. Originally written for HP Darkfest. Prompt:
"For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast. And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest." -- Lord Byron
Part One: on LJ
In the morning, Harry says the words that neither of them would speak the night before. They are on their way from the breakfast salon to the office. "It seems like... like the performances are... escalating."
Lucius makes a noise of agreement. "It is no wonder that Bellatrix, for all her throwing herself at him, has never once interested him in that manner."
"What about her husband?" Harry blurts, it only just now occurring to him that her being a Lestrange means that she has a husband, and what must he think of her vamping?
"Rodolphus?" Lucius makes a dismissive sound, a more casual sound than Harry has heard before from him. "It was an arranged marriage. And I don't think he cares much about appearances. He's probably got some shameful vice of his own that she ignores."
Harry has a sudden, unbidden pang of shame himself. "I'm sorry. I... I forgot about Mrs. Malfoy."
Now Lucius is laughing at him. He's attempting to hide it, but the mirth wells in his eyes and he lays a hand on Harry's shoulder. "And you're concerned that last night you usurped her place in my bed? Such a sweet thing you are. Narcissa, when she is here, has her own suite, you know."
"Oh." Lucius' hand is warm on his bare shoulder. Then Harry finds himself pulled into an embrace made of Lucius' robes.
"Yes, the performances are escalating," Lucius says. "But we shall not hurry to disaster. You must appear as docile as can be when we are with them. Docile, and pliant." He thumbs Harry's lower lip. "And sensuous."
Harry stiffens in Lucius' arms as this hint of Lucius' plan suddenly penetrates. "I'm... to be the bait?"
"You are the bait and the trap, both," Lucius says, breathing warm into his hair. They stand that way for long moments, before Lucius goes on in a more pragmatic voice. "It won't do for your first time to be in front of them all. If you're to keep your wits about you... you'll need to learn to take a cock up your arse."
At that pronouncement, Harry does not stiffen again, but stays stock still in Lucius' embrace. "Your cock," he says, just to be sure.
"My cock," Lucius affirms, then steps back. "Now, to the office. There is correspondence I cannot neglect."
Harry nods and follows him. This time, as he lies bound and stretched upon the desk, he tries to imagine what sex with Lucius will be like. He thinks it will be okay, if he is mostly able to concentrate on what Lucius smells like, wine and woodsmoke and cologne and the day's sweat... except that they will likely do it after the nightly toilette? He thinks if he can be utterly wrapped up in the scent of him that he'll be able to bear anything. He supposes that Lucius' plan makes sense. He will need to learn to deal with the pain, so that even while he is being torn apart on the dais, he can be ready to make his move. Still, he trembles a bit, anticipating the pain. His courage does not fail him, but it is one thing to leap into a battle, entirely another to lie quietly and make oneself a sacrifice.
Lucius' hand finds his heart. "Impatient?" he teases, looking up from his letter, as he feels the organ hammering under Harry's ribcage.
When Harry does not answer, he finds Lucius looking into his eyes.
"Are you afraid of me?" Lucius asks. When Harry shakes his head, Lucius clucks his tongue. "You've convinced yourself you are not, but your body remembers that it's me who wielded the whip." As if to prove the point, Harry shivers as Lucius' hand strokes his side. "I know I am asking a lot of you."
Harry nods. It's a price he's willing to pay. More than willing, if it will rid the world of Voldemort. What's a little pain when compared with that? "It'll be worth it," he says.
"Yes, yes very," Lucius says, a sudden look of hunger in his eye. With a flick of his wand, the ropes and ink and quills are gone, and Harry fears that Lucius has decided to take him right here on the desk, right now.
But Lucius sees the look in his eye, and draws him naked into his lap instead. "You still don't trust me."
Harry shakes his head, although whether it's to deny what Lucius says or affirm it, he doesn't know.
"Did you forget I said I wouldn't take you until you were ready?"
"Yes, but... you... you might decide that I'm ready..."
Lucius laughs softly. "True. But my actual words were that I wouldn't take you until you trusted me. That is how I'll know you're ready."
"Ah." Harry finds himself relaxing into Lucius' arms, the heat of the fire and the warmth of his robes comforting.
"I think it's time we added something more to the routine," Lucius murmurs. "The last time you came was here in this room, nearly a month ago."
"I don't need..."
"Hush. I think we should add one orgasm per day for each of us."
"All right," Harry says, as if he has some say in the matter. "When?"
"Well, I've been thinking about that," Lucius goes on. His voice is deep when they sit like this. "I think I shall decide when you come, but you shall decide when I come. It needn't be at the same time each day, of course. But as it will happen only once, we must choose wisely."
Harry nods, absorbing this. He finds himself rubbing his cheek against the wool of Lucius' robes. "May I... make you come now?"
Lucius chuckles.
"Er... no time like the present?" Harry goes on.
Lucius nods, and without dislodging Harry from his lap, sends the owls off with their correspondence. Then he lifts Harry up, like a bridegroom carrying his bride over the threshold, and settles again on a leather-covered seat for two closer to the fire.
"Your hand," Lucius says, reclining and letting both arms rest along the back of the seat. "Go on, take it out."
Harry is very familiar with Lucius' robes and clothing by now. Very familiar with his cock, too, though he hasn't held it like this in a long time. And he's never felt it come to life, pulsing in his palm, as he coaxes it to its full length. He licks his lips where a question hovers.
It is only after a few minutes of stroking that he manages to ask it. "Are you... that is, I think you're larger than Lestrange."
Lucius opens his eyes at that, but says nothing.
"It's hard to judge from a distance of course, but..." Harry shrugs.
Lucius chuckles. "You are right. Lestrange has ever been ashamed of his small penis, and has tried enlarging it with potions. The problem is that the larger he makes it, the less sensitive it becomes. So he stopped enlarging it some time ago."
Perhaps it's good if Lestrange is smaller, Harry thinks. If Harry gets used to taking a larger cock, that can only help him be ready. And Draco, maybe Draco will be able to survive longer if the man's prick is smaller...
It's a strange sort of optimism to be engaging in. Lucius does not say anything more about it, instead giving Harry suggestions in a low voice, on how fast, and where to touch, and how tight, until with a groan he is spurting heavily all over his robes. Harry marvels at the energy that seems to pulse through the flesh in his grip.
Lucius Vanishes the mess with a flick of his wand, then pulls Harry close for a kiss, but pulls away suddenly after a few moments as if he hadn't meant to do so.
Harry sucks in a little breath, swallows. "Did I do something wrong?"
Lucius seems too breathless, too shocked to speak. He gives a little shake of his head, and this time Harry kisses him, breathing deeply of Lucius' scents.
Lucius' hand seeks out Harry's own cock, and Harry's moan is muffled by the lips that now seem reluctant to leave his.
But leave him they do, as Lucius pulls back, lets go Harry's cock, and rights his own clothes. Lucius licks his lips. "I haven't decided when your orgasm shall be," he says, still a little breathless, but with a veneer of his usual aplomb coming back.
* * *
Much later, at dinner, Lucius teases him with words rather than with touches. "Goodness, Harry. I should have been promising to let you come all along. You've barely spent a moment flaccid since we left the study." Even Harry's nipples seem to harden when Lucius looks at him admiringly.
"Is it... is it harmful?" Harry asks, remembering what Lucius had said about the erection potion.
Lucius touches only his cheek, the edge of his lip. "No. Not when come upon naturally. Ah, to be so young."
Harry cannot help it. Every time his mind wanders, it goes back to that moment in the study when Lucius was kissing him and stroking him at the same time. Harry drops his gaze, not out of submissiveness, but in shyness. He doubts Lucius is a legilimens like Snape, but he feels like it must be obvious what he's thinking.
Especially when Lucius says, "Later."
He feeds Harry a forkful of something that seems to be made from dark chocolate and air. Harry makes a sound as he swallows it, possibly the best thing he has tasted since coming to the Manor. When he looks up Lucius is leaning over and beckoning him for a kiss. Harry rears up and meets his mouth, only to find an intense flavour there. Lucius' tongue darts out to open his mouth and Harry is suddenly drinking some kind of liquor, directly from Lucius' mouth.
This time it is Lucius who makes a sound.
They share another bite of the dessert, and another mouthful of smoky cognac, and then Lucius declares "later" to have arrived. "Let's go up to bed," he says, voice huskier than chocolate or cognac alone could account for.
Harry is delighted when Lucius enfolds him in his robes, just behind the bedroom door, carried away on the scents buried in the cloth and in Lucius' skin. Harry finds himself nuzzling at Lucius' neck, then crying out hungrily as two of Lucius' fingers begin a slow torment, stroking upwards feather light on the straining organ. Harry tilts his head for another kiss, and finds Lucius saying against his lips, "I told you it would be better if you trust me."
Harry thinks maybe he understands now. If he didn't trust him, then he wouldn't really be willing to do this. He'd consent to go through the motions but he wouldn't really want to...and that would have made it rape.
He's no longer questioning whether he wants to. Well, when it comes to being fucked he's still got a lot to worry about with that, but this... this is something else. He cries out suddenly, spurting hotly all over Lucius' robes, and into the palm of his hand as Lucius quickly moves to harden his stroke, coating Harry's cock in the slippery stuff and prolonging the orgasm a few more precious seconds.
And then Harry sags boneless in his arms. Lucius laughs and scoops him into bed, and it takes Harry a few moments to realise, oh, he's put me into the bed, oh, he's not getting in, oh, he's undressing himself. "I should...?"
"Hush. I'll be there shortly," Lucius says. He cleans his teeth and detangles his hair with a charm and then slips, utterly naked, into the bed with Harry.
Harry swallows. Lucius' erection is hard to miss. Harry puts a hand on Lucius' thigh.
Lucius shakes his head. "I've already come once today, remember?"
"But..."
"Choose wisely," Lucius intones, then urges Harry with his hands to roll over and spoon against Lucius' body. Lucius shifts until his erection is tucked between Harry's thighs. "Good night, Harry."
Harry wants to argue that it seems wrong to him. It feels wrong, like Lucius is going to bed without supper. But he finds he cannot argue the point. "Good night," he answers, letting his post-orgasmic lassitude pull him down into sleep.
* * *
They sleep that way every night for a week—even the nights when Harry plans for Lucius to come immediately before bed. He wonders if Lucius has a charm or a potion or if it can really be how much Lucius wants him that insures a throbbing erection between his legs each night. A few months ago it would have been an utterly repulsive thought. Now, he wonders what he can do to show Lucius he is ready.
It is the night of the weekly entertainment. Tonight Amycus Carrow fucked a Ministry representative of some kind until he bled to death. Harry never did find out what the man's position had been, but he apparently had tried to thwart the Dark Lord's agenda somehow. Carrow used a knife to cut a hole in the man's thigh, a great bleeding gash, and he fucked the gash with great glee. Harry found he couldn't even view it as sexual at all until Carrow came with a great bellow, and then the Dark Lord himself stood up, stroking his cock in anticipation, then inserting it into the hole slick with come and blood, the body still warm, perhaps even still barely alive.
Tonight Harry had worn some new adornments, wide silver bands at wrist and neck, paper thin and shined with charms. Lucius had stroked his hair possessively throughout the performance and at the end, the Dark Lord himself had complimented him on Harry's appearance, both beautiful... and submissive. Lucius made a noncommittal hint about Harry's training.
Now they are home, and Harry wants something to erase his memory of the blood. He drops to his knees the moment they are in the bedroom, seeking through Lucius' robes and his trousers for his cock, needing quite suddenly to suckle on it like a babe seeking comfort at his mother's teat.
Lucius allows it. Harry was half fearing that he would not, but he feels the fingers of Lucius' hands combing his hair as he takes his cock into his mouth. Harry moans as a salty stripe of precome is painted down the centre of his tongue when Lucius comes to hardness.
Lucius charms away the silver bands and Harry notes it with the back of his mind. His concentration is wholly taken up by the cock in his mouth, too large for him not to heed every moment, lest he gag like he did the first time earlier in the week. He had sucked him three days in a row after that, trying to get it right, and now he finds it a comfort, like diving again and again into deep water. Three days in a row... though that hadn't been how he'd always made Lucius come. Perhaps Harry is learning by example, but once he just teased Lucius to the edge of orgasm... and then told him that it was not the time he'd chosen for Lucius to come yet. Amazingly, Lucius took it good naturedly. Well, perhaps not so amazing, as it had precipitated a lovely bit of revenge, too, with Lucius later telling Harry... after he'd stroked him and licked him and brought him to the edge... that his time would be when the chime on the mantel clock rang. Unfortunately, Harry had no way of knowing when that would be, and Lucius threatened a punishment if Harry came too soon...
It is only now that Harry realises he doesn't know what the punishment would have been. He strained to hold back his orgasm because... because he wanted to. He wanted to see if he could, and he wanted to please Lucius, and he had known there would be payback for his earlier trick... and it had been a torment, but a wonderful torment. It feels like a game between them, and he realises Lucius made it one intentionally.
He raises his head, lips disengaging from Lucius' swollen prick with a wet sound. Neither of them has come yet, today, and Harry is sure they were both thinking the same thing, which was that tonight it should be mutual. "To the bed?" Harry asks softly.
"What do you have in mind?" Lucius' voice is rich like chocolate, fully amused.
Harry pulls him by the hand, pulling him all the way until they are spooned, tucking Lucius' cock between his thighs, just under his balls, and then rolling slowly onto his stomach. "Like this, please."
Lucius kisses him on the back of the neck. "A wise choice," he whispers, then takes the jar of lubricant from the side table, slicking his hand with it. He pulls back from the crevice just under Harry's arsecheeks where his cock is situated and slicks it as he thrusts the head alone back into the crack. His cock slides easily in the fleshy gap between his legs and Harry groans it feels so good. Then Lucius insinuates his slick hand under Harry's belly, until Harry's own erection is pressing into his palm.
"I'm going to fuck you until you come," Lucius breathes into Harry's ear, and thrusts into the gap, pushing Harry's own cock against his hand as he does. Harry gasps at the sensation, at the scent of Lucius surrounding him as Lucius' hair closes around him like a curtain, at the feeling of Lucius' weight on his back and the thing which feels something like penetration. It isn't real fucking, Harry knows that, but oh... if it could feel like this, he wouldn't fear it at all. Lucius' thrusts are slow, and at first Harry thinks it is because Lucius is teasing him. It becomes gradually clear that the slowness is the only way Lucius can keep himself in check.
Soon he cannot even do that, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic, and yet he holds back, and holds back, and holds back until that slippery spill pours out of Harry. Harry cries out, and Lucius's answer follows quickly after, ringing in Harry's ears like joy and triumph. They both sleep soundly, very soundly then, flaccid and sated.
* * *
It all goes wrong the next day.
Yaxley and both of the brothers Lestrange appear in the midafternoon. Tea time. Lucius has a bare moment to turn to Harry and hiss "On your knees!" with a flare of urgency in his eyes, before his mask of disdain descends and he pulls open the door.
The three Death Eaters are ranged there, Rabastan in the lead with a slave in some kind of leather hood in front of him on a leash like a dog. The man crawls forward and now Harry can see it is Draco, the hood has two points on it like dog ears and he has some kind of a muzzle or gag in his mouth. They stare at one another while Lucius greets the men, ignoring his son and Harry completely for the moment.
He greets the Lestranges with some effusiveness, but he is merely cordial to Yaxley. Harry wonders about their history. He would have thought Lucius would be cold toward Rabastan, but maybe he has to be nice or Draco will suffer for it? Harry doesn't know. He watches as Draco crawls, still on the leash, further into the foyer. He has something that looks like a tail sticking out of his anus, and his cock hangs down, wrapped in some kind of metal and straps. Harry doesn't want to look at it too closely.
Lucius directs them all into the tea salon, conjuring a scrap of fabric over Harry's genitals as he takes his seat and then shooting a jealous glare at the others. Rodolphus guffaws at this. "You can't be serious, Lucius. You won't even let us look at him?"
Lucius clucks his tongue. "I won't have him serving tea with his prick hanging out," he says. Then, "Harry, the tea."
Harry jumps up and hurries to the kitchen. Thankfully tea service is one of the things he's had to learn during the first few months of his training. At first, Lucius had even dressed him in a tea towel, and said it was because Harry had freed Dobby that he was being put to such schooling. Harry had resented it terribly at the time, and each mistake had earned him a thin red welt across the backs of his ankles or his hands. But over time, he has learnt to prepare and pour tea for Lucius.
This should be the same, he thinks. Only for four of them, as clearly Draco isn't having any. And there are other elves besides Dobby, who spell the water hot nearly instantly, and load the tray with jam, and scones, and cream, and every other thing such that Harry can barely carry it.
He brings it into the room and sets it carefully onto the cart, trying to make no noise. Not only because that is as he was taught, but so he can listen to what they are saying. They are talking about the Ministry, and about the Resistance. Harry keeps his face impassive and his eyes down. Now would not be the time for an outburst. But oh, it's hard, when they talk about Muggleborns they've killed, especially when they are people he knows, or relatives of theirs.
Soon he has poured for all four of them, and settles again on his knees at Lucius's feet. He bows his head just as Yaxley says, "He'll want something special for this week's entertainment, you know."
Lucius rises to the bait. "Oh, why is that?"
"His damn snake died, and I say good riddance, but you didn't hear me say that." Yaxley laughs and so do the other two. "Had to be poison of some kind. A snake like that's hard to kill. I think the poison was probably meant for him, but... oh, he's quite livid about the whole thing."
Harry's heart hammers. Ron and Hermione must still be destroying the Horcruxes. By now, Nagini might be the only one left...? He had been willing to try to kill Voldemort anyway, to at least send him back to the half-life that he had been in before, but to know there was a chance, a real chance, to destroy him...
"Whom does he suspect?" Lucius asks, sipping at his tea.
Rabastan speaks in a hushed voice, one hand petting Draco idly. "No one's been accused, not yet. I'd have thought Snape, except the snake already had him for dinner months ago. But none of us liked that thing. Not after being forced to watch it dine on occasion." He makes a disgusted sound. Harry nearly laughs out loud at that. As if being made to watch people fucked to death is somehow better...?
Lucius nods. "Yes, I agree. He'll want appeasing."
Harry dares to glance up through his overlong fringe and sees three pairs of eyes trained steadily on Lucius.
"You can't be serious," Lucius snarls.
Rabastan answers with a sneer of his own. "Oh, I assure you, we are quite serious. And besides, the Dark Lord isn't the only one whose been waiting for a taste of your little sweetmeat there."
Lucius sets his cup and saucer aside with an uncharacteristic clatter. "Oh, so you waited until I tamed him before wanting to step into the lion's cage?"
Yaxley laughs and makes a meowing noise in Harry's direction. "Meek as a pussy, is he now?"
Rabastan's eyes are hard. "Meek. It's you, Lucius, who have become meek. You've never been the same, since your wand was taken. You're too soft on the boy; we can all see that."
Harry curses inwardly. If they'd expected a challenge like this might come, they could have easily made sure Harry appeared with fresh welts on his back or something. But they haven't done anything like that lately...
To Harry's surprise, Lucius laughs. "And if I have been enjoying the slut he's become a bit too indulgently, am I to be faulted for that? Yes, I admit it. We spend much less time in the dungeon of late and much more in the bedroom. And anywhere else I can get the slut to spread his cheeks for me. No, gentlemen, I cannot turn aside this accusation. You know my skill with pain, my taste for power, but I have gorged myself lately on a steady diet of pleasure."
Harry swallows hard as this speech is delivered. Lucius' voice is like velvet touching his skin. And from his vantage on the floor, he can see it is also having an effect on at least one of the guests. Yaxley's erection is prominent in his trousers.
"Indeed?" Rabastan says, sipping from his own cup and then running his tongue along his lower lip. "I should like to see that."
Lucius barks a short, dismissive laugh. "Indeed, did you not come here to insinuate that it is my turn to make a spectacle of myself in front of the Dark Lord?"
"I mean now," Rabastan says, voice silky. "It has been a while since I've witnessed the plying of... pure pleasure. Can you make him come untouched?"
There are sounds of agreement from the other two.
"I have been trying to train him to come on command." Lucius threads his fingers into Harry's hair, and it feels as indulgent as he claims it is. "But he is slow to train, as you can well imagine. Part of the fun, of course, is that the boy does not take naturally to any of it."
Rodolphus slaps Rabastan on the back, though his words are for Lucius. "Unlike the slut here who used to be your son, eh? The boy had his legs spread and was begging for it before Rabi here even raised a hand to him."
"Show us what he can do," Rabastan says, setting his teacup aside. "Come now, Lucius. If you're reticent to perform in front of us, I'd be happy to have a go."
Lucius does not answer in words, instead pulling Harry by the hair up into his lap, and pulling him into a heated kiss. Harry can feel the desperation in the way Lucius plumbs his mouth, though to the others it surely looks like domineering passion. It is as if Lucius is trying to tell him through the kiss... what? That they are in danger? That he has no choice? That he wishes it could be another way?
Harry tries to reassure him the same way, but kisses are inexact messengers. His heart is hammering hard; this wasn't how he hoped it would be, and he hopes he can bear it in front of the others... and yet it's thrilling at the same time, this urgency. Music springs from somewhere; Harry is not sure if Lucius has conjured it or one of the visitors.
Lucius turns him in his lap then, so Harry's chest is exposed to the others, and his cock, too, as Lucius eases the fabric over it and tucks it under his bollocks. He suckles at the back of Harry's neck and cups his cock with his bare hand, until Harry tries to thrust into it. Then he pulls his hand away, so that all three Death Eaters can see Harry come to full hardness just from Lucius' love bites and quick pinches on his nipples. Harry can see them, too, and Draco, who looks as if he has not moved a muscle since sitting back on his heels. He closes his eyes and concentrates on Lucius's touch.
Lucius draws one fingertip across the dewy slit, catching up the glittering opal of precome that has gathered there. He suckles his own finger like a chef sampling an incredible creation. He smacks his lips, then says to the others, having to pitch his voice slightly louder so they can hear him over the music, "I shall have to cut off his potions, though. The Dark Lord seems to like his... holes to be as loose as can be."
The men chuckle at that. Harry realises it's true... the times when Voldemort takes his pleasure it seems to be there's possibly no friction there at all for him, the flesh is so ruined. Perhaps, Harry thinks, it's that there's no resistance, and that's what he gets off on. He doesn't really want to think about it, though, and he must concentrate on Lucius, on being here with Lucius and putting on a good show. Like they do this every day, several times a day. He cannot help but gasp, though, as Lucius banishes the thong entirely and slips a finger across the crinkle of his entrance.
"How come he's so tight, if you've been fucking him so much?" Yaxley demands to know.
Rodolphus' laugh is wicked. "Didn't you just hear? Said he's on a potion. How tight does it make him?"
"Well," Lucius says, reaching between Harry's body and his own with his wand in order to spell open his trousers, "when he was a virgin, I found I enjoyed taking him so much, that I wanted to repeat the experience. Again and again. The first few times, I Obliviated him, so he even thought it was his first time more than once. Now, though, it's enough just to feel his tight little arse squeezing me. Honestly, I think if I let him get as loose as all the fucking we do would make him, he'd be only all the more insatiable. I'd find him fucking the candlesticks next."
"I'd like to see that," says Yaxley.
Harry closes his eyes. He cannot imagine Lucius doing as he said, Obliviating him and then doing it all again... well, he could imagine it, actually. When he thinks about the way he'd thought Lucius was before. But he can't square that image with the one he has now, of the man whose bed he's been sharing.
There's the Lucius the Death Eaters know, or think they know, and there's the Lucius that I know, and they are not the same, Harry thinks. And then all thought stops as Lucius' bare cock touches his spine. He lets out a moan of desire. Unfeigned. If anything, having the others watching only heightens Harry's arousal. The danger of the situation only sends his blood surging even more.
Lucius shifts then, moving Harry forward onto the ottoman, folded over it with his arse toward Lucius. Suddenly the warmth of Lucius is gone, and Harry holds still, wondering what is happening. But it seems Lucius is just admiring how he looks from all sides, and then comes a sharp "Incarcerous!"
There are appreciative sounds from the audience as Lucius's spell binds Harry's hands in place, each to one of the ottoman's feet. His legs are still free, though. He tugs a little on the bonds, but there is a kind of logic to them. Harry doesn't have to do anything this way. It's quite... safe. Almost like the silencing charm that frees him when they are with the Death Eaters to think whatever he likes without fear he'll say something wrong.
He feels something cold and hard on his back and wonders why the others are laughing. Then he gathers from their jokes about tea time that it is a jar of clotted cream. The cream is cold as Lucius circles his entrance with a fingertip, but it warms quickly.
Lucius narrates as he pushes one finger in, perhaps distracting the others from how much time and care he is taking. "After the game of Obliviation grew tiresome, I decided making him into an utter fucktoy was really the next step. I started making him wear a plug in his anus, charmed to vibrate from time to time. Over the course of weeks I gradually increased the size of the plug until it was possible for me to pull him to me at any moment and just start fucking him without any preparation at all. I got a bit carried away, though. The plugs eventually got larger than I was." He gives a wry chuckle and the others laugh with him. "Once he took to the training, the insatiable thing, I had to use an Engorgement Charm on my own cock to satisfy him. That was when I decided it was time to get back to basics, and put him on the potion that made his arse virginal to me all over again. Now he wants it... oh, he wants it so very much, don't you, my dear toy?"
"Oh, yes, oh yes please..." Harry finds himself saying easily.
"Yes, he wants it, but he fears it, too. Because now he remembers how much it can hurt."
Harry bows his head. He realizes there is a thread of truth in everything Lucius is saying. Is that what the next step would have been, soft plugs that would stretch him gradually until he could accommodate Lucius' cock easily? He hadn't realised that Lucius knew how afraid he was of how much it would hurt.
He also realizes, as Lucius fingers plunge in and out of him, that Lucius could have put him under Imperius just now. It would be like binding him, only moreso. He wonders why Lucius did not, but also remembers that to get through this, he will have to trust Lucius.
He realizes that he does. He does trust Lucius, to protect him from these men.
He realizes one more thing before thoughts cease again for a while, and that is that Lucius' fingers pistoning in and out of him feel good. So very good.
But there is no more delay, no more time, no more waiting, as Lucius positions the head of his cock against Harry's anus. Harry clutches at the legs of the ottoman and closes his eyes. It feels impossibly blunt, impossibly large...
He cries out as the head goes in, pain flaring at its widest point, then fading as the tight ring of muscle grips the slightly narrower shaft. Lucius swears an oath that sounds quite heartfelt. Harry trembles as he begins to move, but the pain now is nothing more than a dull ache, not at the entrance but deeper inside him... and then Lucius shifts his angle and the ache on each thrust changes suddenly to a sparking warmth and pleasure. Harry moans. The closest thing he can come to describing it is having his cock stroked. Except this isn't his cock and it's inside...
He moans and pushes back against Lucius, wanting more of that.
Rabastan chuckles. "He is quite the little slut."
Lucius makes a dismissive sound, as if Rabastan should have known better than to doubt him.
Harry cannot believe how good it feels. He is opening up, so much looser now, and it feels like Lucius' cock fits inside him perfectly. He whimpers not with pain, but with loss, when Lucius pulls out completely, and begins to tease him again with the head, pressing against him all around his entrance without going in.
"Oh please..." he finds himself saying. Begging. "Please put it in, please." He can't remember wanting anything else in his life this much.
"Yes, so needy," Lucius croons, stroking his back and then obliging him.
They all fall silent as Lucius settles into a rhythm except for the little moans Harry makes on every other thrust. Harry loses himself in it. He barely feels it when Lucius works a hand around his chest, but then quite suddenly the bonds dissolve, and Lucius pulls Harry upright, thrusting up into him, both arms around his torso.
"I want you to come when I say," Lucius says into his ear. "Can you do that for me? If you fail, you'll need to service all three of them to appease me."
Harry's answer catches in his throat. He manages to force out a question. "Un-untouched?"
"I wouldn't call this untouched," Lucius replies, thrusting harder. He drags a finger across Harry's nipples and Harry gasps as the sensation seems to shoot directly to his cock.
"Come for me, come now." And quite suddenly Harry is coming, spurting up onto his own belly, his cock feeling like it's going to catch fire. All of him explodes and he has nothing to compare this to, the weightlessness of flying? the kick of firewhiskey? He cries out because he can't not.
He gradually becomes aware of Lucius' arms, still around him, and of the softening thrusts, the slick, wet drip. Lucius must have come, too, and he is milking out every last drop of his pleasure, until at last he slips back limp onto the chaise, pulling Harry with him. He presses a kiss to the back of Harry's neck and pulls him close, wrapping the edge of his robe over him.
Harry nearly wants to fall asleep like that, but he tries to stay awake enough to hear what the men say now.
"Well, well, Lucius," Rabastan says. "It would seem you're nowhere near as shy as the Dark Lord believes you are."
Lucius yawns as if this little pronouncement is of no consequence to him.
"I'm sure he'll be pleased if you put on such a display, although..." Rabastan speaks now as if he cares greatly for Lucius' welfare. "He may be disappointed with how... plain the subject matter is. You ought to spice it up a bit or it won't do, if he comes to think all you do all day is get off on the boy. In fact, he won't be happy at all at how much the boy seems to like it. And just now is not a good time to fall under the Dark Lord's suspicion, is it, Lucius?"
Lucius lets out one slow chuckle. "Rabastan, your desire is plain to see on your face. Shall I let you have a go at the boy when next we meet at the cloisters? There is no reason you should not ask plainly."
"Very well." Rabastan adjusts his robes. "I want him. But that does not help your position, Lucius, which is precarious in the Dark Lord's eyes. He thinks you've gone soft. I, myself, am wholly convinced of your quality, but... you know how the others talk."
That sounds like a flat lie to Harry—Rabastan isn't convinced at all. He's never heard people lie so blatantly to each other before. It's terribly confusing.
"Yes, well, perhaps you can be of some help to me then," Lucius says. "After all, you didn't think I'd just give Potter to you?"
Rabastan's voice is sharp. "Name your price."
"Draco. I propose a trade, Potter for Draco. After you've fucked him, you can decide whether the trade is permanent, or just for the night."
Rabastan's laugh sends chills down Harry's back, even though he is snug in Lucius' arms. "He'll see through that too easily. You just want to get your son home and safe."
Lucius licks his lips. "I said you'd be the one to decide whether it was a permanent trade or just for the night."
Rabastan hums as he thinks, a low growl in his throat. "If it is just for the night, you know you won't get away with him sitting pretty at your feet."
Now it is Lucius' laugh that makes Harry cold. "Oh, Rabi, you think so highly of your depravity, you never consider fully someone else's. I won't, of course, offer you the trade officially, until I have sampled your goods."
Yaxley guffaws. "You incestuous bugger. No wonder Draco was begging for it, the slut."
Harry has no way to tell now which is the lie. Did Lucius and Draco have an incestuous relationship before? Or is Lucius saying now that he'll... Oh, God.
"Would that satisfy our Lord's needs, Rabastan?" Lucius asks coolly. "I'll fuck Draco as the opening act, say, and you'll have Potter for the finale? As I say, you can decide if you want to keep him after the Dark Lord's through with him."
Rabastan's face is a mask of greed. He gets to his feet and the chain of the leash rattles as he gives it a tug. "Very well, we have a deal." He holds out his hand. Lucius deigns to shake it, though he does not rise.
"If you will see yourselves out, gentlemen," Lucius says, pulling the robes a bit tighter around himself and Harry, "all this excitement has left me in need of a nap."
Lucius must have some way of knowing when they are gone, Harry thinks, because a few minutes later, he feels the tension go out of him. And then Lucius' voice comes, slightly muffled by Harry's own hair. "I'm sorry. That wasn't at all how I envisioned your first time."
Harry pulls one of Lucius' hands up to his mouth and kisses it. "It... it wasn't so bad."
"That hardly sounds like an endorsement."
"No! No, really. I... I quite liked... I mean, I didn't expect..." Harry finds himself tugged around to face Lucius and silenced by a kiss. When Lucius lets his mouth free he tries again. "I thought it would hurt much more."
Lucius brushes his cheek. "If I'd had adequate time to prepare you, it wouldn't have hurt at all." His face is pained. "But of course you'd think that it would. Given what you've seen."
Harry isn't sure what to say to that. "You're going to trade me for Draco?"
"Unless you can think of something else," Lucius admits, his voice soft. He raises his wand and Summons the foil-thin cuffs and collar he has had Harry wear to the entertainments.
To Harry's surprise, Lucius puts the cuff onto his own wrist. It slips on like a bracelet and then tightens to fit snugly. Harry watches fascinated as Lucius seems to snap his fingers and the cuff leaps into his hand like a silvery fish.
A silvery knife?
He twitches again and the knife-like thing snaps back into place on Lucius' wrist.
Harry licks his lips. "They'll suspect you of helping me, though, won't they?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps your instinctive magic finally delivered you the tools you needed to finish him, once he was in your clutches? Besides, if you succeed, and the Dark Lord is vanquished, will it matter? You made your wishes clear, Harry. Help me rescue Draco and kill the Dark Lord. This plan accomplishes that."
Harry nods. "I just have to... let Lestrange fuck me until I'm half dead, and then when V-- the Dark Lord gets his hands on me, let him have it."
Lucius pulls him close. "Yes."
"We have almost a week until then."
"Yes."
Harry puts his arms around Lucius' neck and nibbles at his mouth. "You'll fuck me every day until then?"
Lucius is breathless. "Multiple times, if you like."
"Good." It is the last word Harry speaks for a while, as they drift to sleep together, restless but spent.
Harry wakes first, the last light of evening just leaving the windows. His hand seeks out the warm flesh at Lucius' groin, tugging him gently both to hardness and wakefulness. Lucius does not speak, but merely growls hungrily. He summons a jar, and Harry can tell by the scent this is not clotted cream. Whatever it is feels incredible as Lucius loosens him, greases him, stretches him, then settles between his legs. Harry is already wrapping his legs around Lucius' back, or trying to but the robes are in the way. Lucius Banishes them wordlessly, and then they are skin to skin, man to man, and Lucius presses inward until he is completely sheathed in Harry.
Harry is gasping, but not with pain, with lust and need and a sense of being overwhelmed. The feeling of being overwhelmed only grows as Lucius begins to move, the bulk of him disappearing into Harry's hole over and over again.
An hour goes by but they are lost in the timeless rhythm, shifting position from time to time but never stopping. Sometimes Lucius fucks him with just the head, with short rocks, other times he settles into long, slow strokes, filling him completely and then pulling back just as slowly, savouring every inch.
Another hour disappears but the only part of Harry that feels sore is his throat, and he could not care less about it. They haven't spoken a word since before they fell asleep and he certainly has no desire to speak now.
He gasps as Lucius grasps his cock and looks intently into his eyes. There is no holding back. Harry comes quickly, the amount of issue coming forth smaller than usual, but he hardly cares. He relishes the feeling of Lucius losing control, slamming into him as he finishes himself, relishes more the kisses that follow, and he licks the salty sweat from Lucius' upper lip with a contented noise.
They sleep again, and it is well after midnight before a single word is uttered between them. When it comes, it is Harry, who whispers, "I trust you."
And Lucius answers, lips pressed to Harry's hair as he speaks, "And I trust you."
* * *
For two days, they have sex at nearly every possible opportunity. In between eating and sleeping and practicing with the cuffs that become knives, Lucius is inside Harry, or preparing to be. Lucius has lotions and potions that keep Harry's flesh from being uncomfortably abused by the incessant penetration, even when the fucking takes place in the bath, or on the parquet floor, or on the grand staircase.
And in the bed, of course. The second night Harry climbs astride him, riding him first to his own climax, and then to Lucius'. It is after that time, as intense and physically demanding and cathartic as it was, that Harry nestles close in his arms and asks, "Did the Dark Lord ever tell you the prophecy?"
Lucius' murmur is as thick as chocolate sauce, a lover's voice, though his words are nothing like post-coital murmurs should be. "No. I presumed at the time that if I had succeeded, I would have listened to it with him. The cursed thing."
Harry is not sure if Lucius is referring to the prophecy or to Voldemort himself with those words. "The gist of it was... that one of us will be the death of the other. But it didn't say which."
Lucius is silent a long moment, but Harry knows he has heard him because Lucius' fingers in his hair tighten fractionally. Finally, he speaks. "Fate never uses a broken wand," he says.
"Er... what's that mean?"
Lucius chuckles softly. "It means... you're very likely to succeed, Harry."
Harry can tell he's lying, which in and of itself is a surprise, but even more surprising is that he finds he doesn't mind. Because he does trust Lucius, and maybe some lies are for the best? Harry figures it's a coin flip for Fate, so he has a 50/50 shot of surviving. But maybe Lucius needs to believe that it will all come out right. After all, if Voldemort kills Harry, what are the chances that things will work out for Lucius and Draco?
They still have a few days left to think of something else. Harry would suggest that they just kidnap Draco out from under Lestrange's nose and go into hiding... but that leaves Narcissa vulnerable, and besides, Harry cannot run away from the prophecy.
He presses a kiss against the golden stubble on Lucius' chin. "You should... hurt me tomorrow."
Lucius' eyes snap open at that. "Hurt you?"
"If... if I'm really going to be able to stand what he's going to do to me... shouldn't I be prepared?"
Grey eyes search his. "I don't know that I can train you to eroticize pain in four days time."
Harry does not blink. He presses a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss against Lucius' lips, never looking away, and says, "I think you already have."
He could swear the emotion Lucius hides then is heartbreak.
* * *
(on to part three!)