Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter.
Warning : Look out for OOC-ness (nothing extremely annoying, trust me)
Thanks to faded. brilliance. for editing this. :D
The first thing that Tom realized when he woke up was that the other side of the bed was empty. He quietly traced his fingers against the lingering warmth on his side, his companion's scent, chamomile with mint fresh in his senses. His eyes closed and Tom counted to three before opening his eyes.
He expected the other man had left, probably there was a note placed on his nightstand, explaining his absence or probably he just left without any clue. Well, Tom knew him very well; Tom knew where to find him. What he didn't expect was that the black haired man standing in the doorway of his bedroom, wearing nothing but Tom's button up shirt, barely covering his ass and he was chuckling, a glass of red wine in his hand.
"Awake, log?" he teased, not moving from his spot. A pair of black rimmed glasses framed his forest green eyes, but nevertheless, they still looked beautiful, and brilliant to Tom. Tom let out a lazy chuckle, stretching his naked body underneath the thick comforter and Harry laughed at his response.
"I thought you're gone." Like always.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips curled into the seductive smile that Tom had come to obsess over and he gracefully made his way to the bed. His hips swayed like how he did in his work – modeling – causing Tom's unnaturally red eyes to skim down his body. He placed his glass on the nightstand and crawled on top of Tom's lean, muscular body. When standing, Harry barely reached his nose and he always loved the position when he get to ride Tom, to look down at him and enjoyed the height advantage for once.
Because Tom likes him – maybe even love him, but that word was so strong that Tom always found it too raw to be said – he let Harry do it.
Harry grinned down at him, his glasses slipping down to the bridge of his nose and Tom took them off before examining them.
"I see that you've bought a new pair." Tom commented almost nonchalantly, as if he did not have a Harry Potter currently straddling his lap. Harry leaned down to rest on his chest, his fingers picking on the soft dark hair there.
"I wore it last night; right after the party was over. But I bet you were too distracted by my outfit to even look at my face. Did the black jeans fit me snugly?" Harry murmured; a hint of smile in his voice. Tom let out a small groan, his hands grabbed Harry's ass and his lips found his left ear to bite. Harry let out a moan and shamelessly starting to rut himself on Tom, the duvet between them only adding the friction. Tom's brain was starting to get fuzzy, his consciousness jumbled up and down, the feeling of Harry's body against his own has always been the trigger. Tom wasn't sure when is it ever going to stop.
He felt Harry rubbing his palm against his arousal, everything was jumbled together into a hot blur and Tom couldn't remember what happened next but whatever happened; nothing else was worth as much as it did.
Like always.
Tom had always found that by having a lover – partner, girlfriend, boyfriend or whatever it's called – is going to pull him down, will become a liability and would ruin him and his life. His family is wealthy, owning several business companies and fortunately for him, Tom is the only living heir of the Riddle. He's got the looks, the brains, the charisma and most importantly, he's got the money.
Nothing is lacking in his life.
Tom spent nights alone, most of the nights anyway but there were times when women and men occupied his bed. He tried to find the one that deserves to be by his side, he opened his arms for others, just to see, just to test whether that particular person is the one or not. Whether he or she is the one that won't pull him down, won't become a liability, and won't ruin him and his life.
He happened to find it in one Harry James Potter.
Tom had loathed it when he had to attend a modeling night performance, courtesy to his business partner that insisted for him to come. He sat down in the VIP seat, eyes wary as he sipped from his glass of champagne. Maybe he should have seen it coming when a male model suddenly stepped out, body lean, short but there were glimpses of defined muscles underneath his black button up shirt. His hair was messy, Tom doubted it was intentionally styled as such – Tom was proven right later that night – and he had the forest green eyes that stunned Tom in his seat.
His brain said it was just for a one night stand.
But his heart had beaten so fast and Tom had forgotten how to breathe for a while.
It wasn't hard – how Tom got Harry into his bed.
Harry himself socialized with so many people – and sometimes Tom wondered what number is he in Harry's bed partner's list – and an offer for coffee was enough to attract his attention. Harry had barely paid attention to the Rolex watch he wore, his leather shoes, his Ralph Lauren suits and even his Clive Christian's perfume. He just looked into Tom's red eyes, his own green aided with contact lens dilated and he whispered 'Coffee in my apartment, name's Harry James Potter. I know you'll find me' before he left Tom speechless, standing in the middle of an after party.
Tom was not an individual that people dared to go against. He held power in his hand, his knowledge of his advantages – of his wealth, his look, his charisma, his brain – made him one of the most famous person in the state.
But when Harry and he had finished with the fourth round of sex, with Harry drawing lazy circles on his chest and his hair smelled wonderful regardless the untamed look it held, Tom was once again struck silent by Harry's lack of acknowledgement of him. Harry had asked, with sly smiles and pretty eyes – although they were blurry in the dark – about him. He didn't ask personal things, just his full name and his place. And Harry didn't even seem to be shocked when he realized he has one of the billionaires of the state in his bed, causing Tom to want him more; to crave him more.
Because Harry took him as Tom, not as Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Because Harry took him as whom he is, not as who he is supposed to be.
Tom stifled a sigh as he sensed a presence behind his leather chair. He believed that he had left the door closed, demanding no one to enter his study in his large mansion. He had left Harry sleeping on his bed and ensued with his never-ending work. But tiredness took over him, causing him to nod into a minute of unconsciousness and then, there Harry was, wrapping his arms around Tom's neck from behind. His hair tickled Tom's temple and Tom turned to press a kiss against the gravity defying hair.
Harry sighed against his neck, his body slumping in a position to drape himself over Tom's back, but prevented by the chair.
"It's 8 AM, Tom, let's get breakfast instead of playing husband to your work." Harry suggested, a lazy lick on his neck caused Tom to involuntarily shiver. Tom placed his pen on top of his papers and his arm reached back to grab on Harry's slim waist to pull him into his lap. The young model let out an 'eep!' and Tom proceeded to ravish his mouth.
Harry has no morning breath. All he has are a beautiful body, with beautiful eyes, a beautiful smile, a beautiful laugh and beautiful everything. Tom was intoxicated.
Tom couldn't even stop imagining Harry writhing underneath him, screaming his name and bucking to get away when Tom's grip on his hips probably bruised him. He couldn't stop imagining even though it was someone else under him, screaming his name and surrendering to his demands. Tom wanted to find someone who could make him think of them – Tom was not all that sure Harry was the one so he continued to sleep around –.
The bad thing about it was, Harry was not even bothered.
Tom swept aside his papers and all his things away from his large mahogany table, just to slam Harry face down on top of it. Then he realized Harry was wearing the midnight black yukata with sakura flowers tainted with red colour instead of pink. He wore it last night for his performance and had laughed when Tom asked him whether or not it was okay for him to dirty the outfit.
He said that the yukata he wore was given to him for his achievement and Tom had taken him against the wall behind the fashion show building, his yukata opened to reveal his pale white chest and Tom had thrust his cock into him in feverish movements, unable to let his mouth off Harry's skin even for half a second. They had sex somewhere Tom would have deemed 'disgusting, not up to his standard' but he had willing to have sex there. Tom wondered whether it was because he wanted – loved – Harry so much or because the place was so unworthy, and the sex should have been meaningless anyway, that's why he agreed.
Tom slipped his hands underneath the silky, thin yukata that covered his eyes from Harry's – beautiful – body. He heard the younger man moan, his hands went searching for Tom's hips, probably to find a hold. Tom hissed against his right ear, Harry's body was warm and Tom could feel his cum leaking from Harry's hole from their previous bout by placing his finger upon it.
"I think this is better than breakfast." Tom murmured, rubbing his rock hard cock still covered by his slacks against the model's bottom. Harry panted heavily, unable to stop from pushing back and rutting against Tom's cock. Tom found this to be quite discouraging and he bit on his younger companion's – Lover? Partner? – ear.
"You love this, do you, Harry? Being held like this? Rutted on? Be used?"
Harry whimpered, scrambling to pull away his yukata only to get his hands held above his head by one of Tom's.
"T-Tom!"
Tom used his other hand to unzip his slacks and pushed the lower part of the yukata that covered Harry's ass from his eyes up.
"You look so innocent sometimes, so sexy next. I couldn't decide which part of you that I'd prefer." He continued, his hand coating his own cock with his saliva, deciding to not prepare Harry at all. The leaking cum should be enough as lubrication. Harry screamed when he slid his cock between Harry's cheeks, teasing him even more.
"Screamer, aren't you? You won't care who you scream for as long as someone stuffs this greedy hole of yours, push something inside, something big, too big, that give others pain but you, pleasure."
"Ngaah… Tooom!" Harry screamed even louder when he pushed inside. Tom had to bite his lower lip to prevent from groaning because of the tightness and when Harry pushed back, his body slick with sweat and dripping cum, Tom lost himself. He closed his eyes and felt something warm dripped from the corner of his eyes –perhaps a drop, or two – and went to place butterfly kisses behind Harry's neck before fucking him thoroughly.
In his haze, Tom knew he had lost himself.
Because he knew that he'd do anything to be the one Harry looks for.
Because he knew that he'd do everything to be the one Harry likes – loves – forever.
Tom slept around.
He opened his arms to people he deemed worth his standard, worth to occupy his bed.
Because he wanted to look and search and find and maybe, just maybe, fall in – love – with someone. His father said he lacked feelings. His mother never said a thing. So Tom spent his time doing his work, opened his arms, his bed and his brain – not heart, never heart, not until Harry – to people that wanted him. Which were so many until Tom couldn't even remember, had he ever said 'I –love – you' to some of them.
Probably not.
Because the next day, Tom always – always, always, always, until him, until those green eyes, until those playful smiles – decided that they were unworthy. Unworthy for everything.
And then, once upon a time in his life, he had run into the arms of Harry James Potter, instead of the other way around.
Tom got drunk one night. He was quite angry at his coworkers and their disability to do their job right at least once. He thought of firing all of them and hiring new ones. He thought maybe that would be the right decision.
Like how he did with people in his life.
He contemplated to return to his house – the large, quiet mansion – and when he finally found his ground, he was standing in front of a familiar plain white door, with a nameplate engraved with a 'Harry J. Potter' upon it.
He grunted, – something he would never admit he did in his sober mind – and pressed the bell. He pressed again and again and again until Harry opened it, hair messy, skin flushed and was wearing nothing but a blanket to cover his lower part. Tom had to squint because of the bright light from the apartment and Harry looked surprised to see him. Tom stepped inside, ignoring Harry's question about his sudden appearance and he tried his best as well, to ignore another man, who was rushing to get back into his clothes and ran out from the door that Harry had opened for him.
He opened his mouth, sleepy and drunk and dazed, and he saw Harry reaching out to stabilize him. Before he lost his feet, he grabbed Harry by his waist, pulling his naked body flush against his own and dropped himself down on the couch – that was occupied by another man with Harry a minute ago – and Harry on top of him.
Harry gripped his shoulders, his face buried in Tom's neck and he laughed quietly, muttering something about Tom being drunk and a cockblocker.
Tom muttered that Harry was the one, causing Harry to look up at him. In his daze, Tom could still make out of those pretty green eyes and plump lips. And Tom was so afraid – something he wouldn't admit as well in his sober mind – that he might have heard 'I love you'.
That Tom might have heard 'I love you' from his own mouth, and that he was so scared that Harry may have heard it.
And 'Love' was a very strong word to come between them, to replace the emptiness between their bodies when they sleep at night and to make Harry stop looking for his 'the one' because fate was a royal pain in the ass and karma was a bitch.
The next morning, he woke up with Harry acting like nothing had happened and gulped down a glass of water with pills to kill his hangover.
Tom stood proud in his appearance, socializing with people he found bearable in a high class party held in one of his business partners' mansion. His hand swirled his glass of red wine as he listened to people surrounding him. But his red eyes focused on the familiar black raven hair of one Harry James Potter.
The model was leaning against the wall, talking with few people and laughed – beautifully – at their words. Tom excused himself from his group and decided to approach the young model when Harry suddenly turned to his left side, his eyes brightening like nothing Tom had ever seen.
A tall blond approached and swooped Harry – Tom's lover – up into his arms and kissed him. The kiss was gentle, only a peck on the lips but Harry was looking up at him in a daze.
The same way Tom had at Harry– and will always have –.
Tom stood still, the grip on his drink tightened and his red eyes darkened. He quietly turned around and left, his insides screaming and crunched by thousands of words, thousands of wordless feelings that he could not get out.
Because Tom had found Harry.
Only to find out, Harry couldn't see him.
.
.
.
End.
A/N : I'm planning for a trilogy, depends on the outcome I receive. But that's not really a point here, right? Haha. I bet most of you guys are thinking of Draco. But nooo, I'm a fan of Cedric. -insert hearts-
Review please.