Wrong
Warning: Draco (younger)/Harry (older), Harry is 16, Draco is has just turned 12 over the summer –Draco top!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
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Their relationship is wrong. So, so wrong.
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Draco Malfoy grew up inside of a gold cage in a white marble manor. Draco Malfoy is the golden boy of the pureblood hierarchy, as the sole heir to one of the most powerful and influential families for the last thousand or so years in Britain he did not have much of a choice. Magic is blood, blood is power, and therefore power is magic –where only the purest of bloods deserve it. It did not matter to him the status of the muggles with their magicless lives, or the muggleborns with their impurity, much less the state of the squibs as invalid wizards. It did not have to matter to him. Because it already mattered the Malfoy. Draco has no say.
Draco Malfoy has grown up inside of a gold cage, hovering above the ground in a white marble manor. His mother, the prettiest of flowers, sits in the garden ready at any moment to flourish with complements. And his father? His father is the god in this forsaken family, the lord whose name must not be spoken, whose rule is absolute.
Draco is a caged bird. Always has been, always will be.
Let us pray he does not fall victim to a snake.
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"More!" he shouts into the abyss his hips pushing harder and harder, his nails gripping silk black hair. "Deeper!" he internally curses as his body blushes involuntary to his deepening voice hitching at the end in a high squeal. "Swallow." His last command comes out smooth and soft spoken despite his chest panting heavily. He trusts hard one last time before releasing the black hair his warm, thick cum shooting down the back of his partner's throat. Patting the hair softly he removes his penis from between the blood blushed lips.
Swallowing heavily the other licks those same lips consuming the mess entirely. Smirking Draco brushes his thumb across the lips slowly, enjoying every time a small pink tongue peaks out between them to taste his skin. "How is it, my seed?"
Green eyes as deep as an abyss stare back at him. "Delicious, My Lord, absolutely riveting. Your seed is thick like the sweetest of creams but tastes of bitter spirit rimmed with salt rum." The other slowly stands from the kneeling position. "Your cum's texture cannot be beat. Trust me, I would know."
A smirk crosses Draco's lips. "Oh, would you? Careful now, one might think you a man-whore or perhaps something worst." The other continues to stand tall and straight.
Laughter is shared between the two of them, a dark and poison laughter. "Oh! My Lord I would never! I belong to you –only to you. But can you blame me? I need to be sure that I could serve you to the best of my abilities." Hovering over his Lord, his hard cock at the same height as the boy's line of sight. "Could you ever forgive a shameful slut like me?"
"A pedophilic shameful slut," Draco teases the hard cock, flicking his fingers against its weeping head.
"A pedophilic shameful slut," the other repeats stifling a moan.
"Hmm," the Draco hums thinking for a moment. "Perhaps," he begins, "if prepare yourself in front of me."
The other flushes a light pink but smiles gleefully never the less as he crawls onto the bed and places his large bum and tight anus right in Draco's face. Nibble and worn fingers barely covered in saliva peak around and run around the rim of the anus –causing it to involuntary twitch. With a lick of his lips Draco wraps his hand around his cock and in rhythm with the fingers pushing themselves in one at a time he enjoys becoming hard again with the ravishing entertainment in front of him.
"Moan, moan for me." He orders as the fourth finger enters the tight passage in front of him. The first moan is purely of relief, but the brothers and sisters that join it are purely of pleasure. "Oh, you are a whore –such a beautiful whore," Draco chuckles.
"Your whore Draco. Only yours."
"Stop." At the order both remove their hands from their sexual organs. "Lay on your back –I… I want to see your face."
The young master doesn't see the small smile of the other. "Of course master," he purrs his back on the crumpled bed sheets, muscles coated lightly in sweat. Bending his knees upwards he displays both his weeping manhood and sultry hole.
A light blush runs down the masters pale skin, smirking arrogantly he lines his cock up with the blushing red entrance. He'll never admit it –he's nervous. Complete perfection lays before him, wanting him. It's impossible –completely impossible!
Larger hands wrap around his own –even as he touches him manhood just centimeters from entering –looking up he meets those wild forest greens for the first time that night. The other boy is blushing, just like him, "Do…" that deep, adult voice starts, "Do you want to continue?" the other had broken character.
Vulnerable.
Those damn eyes are so vulnerable right now.
The same vulnerable as that night.
Never breaking eyes contact he nods.
The other smiles a genuine smile –not mocking, not playing, not even guilty.
"Then do it my little dragon, become a man."
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But, like all fairytales and happily ever after's, reality sets in.
And one day an owl, much like one that would live in the gold bird cage Draco has been raised in, arrived at the marble manor. His mother from the garden drooped in sadness and hid her joy right next to her heart locked away from the eyes of god. His father, in stride and pride, kept his face straight for he knew but of course his son would receive the illustrious invitation to attend Hogwarts and be placed –like all the rest of his family –in the only house that matters: Slytherin.
Draco has no say. It is his fate and his reality. For the lord whose name must not be spoken says it so.
Draco is a caged bird. Always has been, always will be.
Going to Hogwarts will be no exception.
Let us pray he does not fall victim to a snake.
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The slapping of flesh has its own arousing appeal that the young master had never been aware of before. The feeling of hot flesh and narrow hips beneath his hands bruise easily under his grip, long lush legs slither around him –inviting him further and further and further in.
Arching the older of the two gasps and moans uncontrollably as he rises higher and higher into pleasure. Boney arms wrap around his young master watching him in joy as that young boy continues bury himself deeper into the bliss they've found. Harry takes notes and bits of information as his young lover continues to pleasure themselves. He notices the way Draco continues to regulate his breathing as if to not moan as well, the way his eyes naturally stares at Harry's sexual organ bounce up and down, the flush color that reaches across the face the neck and the torso of the second year. Oh…
"Master," he purrs into the boys ear, nipping the flesh. Grey eyes look directly at his own. Rotating his hips with the cock still buried deep within him he moans huskily, "Master," clenching his muscles as tight as he can the cry the younger rewards him with brings a mischievous smirk to his face subconsciously.
Unknown to him the younger boy is seeing stars for the first time. Hot flashes of white consume him and the boy all but passes out.
"Rest," he hears the voice whisper into his ear, red hot fingers trail softly down his face. "Sleep master, sleep."
"Love you," he whispers the world already dark. White fangs flash in his dream as searing pain comes from his shoulder. A moan of pleasure consumes him. As he falls his last thought is 'What a nightmare… what a dream', and nothingness consumes.
Watching over him the older boy pulls himself up from the flaccid cock even as his own still stands tall. Sitting at the edge of the bed Harry lights a cigarette enjoying a long puff as he watches his unconscious "master".
Something wild gleams behind his emerald eyes. Something dark. Something consuming. A nightmare or even a dream perhaps.
The cigarette down to a stump he hovers himself above the twelve year old once more. Flesh like silk stills fattens at the cheeks, lashes twitch and flutter in their dreams, and that neck –a tongue peaks from red lips. Rubbing his nose against the thin space between the shoulder and neck will not be enough –not for tonight, 'Tonight is special after all' he thinks in glee. Licking the flesh gives him a taste of the weakness underneath.
"Ugh." Harry groans pulling back. His cock twitches. 'Just one bite,' the voice in his head whispers, 'Just the one –he won't run away, not like the others.' In the dark his eyes seem to glow the same as he pearl white teeth.
He closes his eyes and he strikes.
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And on that very day when Draco Malfoy of age eleven was set free from his golden cage for the first time his eyes –accustomed to only gold, silver, and marble –saw emeralds as wide and burning as the sun above their heads.
Draco is a caged bird.
Going to Hogwarts is no exception.
And yet…
…The cunning snake with its wide green eyes adorn in moonlight silver whispered to his heart to follow…
Draco has fallen victim to a snake…
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But they wouldn't want it any other way.
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AN: that got oddly poetic and I don't really know why but I hoped you enjoyed and yes Draco tops, he is 12 in second year while Harry is 16 in sixth year and a Slytherin. I am assuming in this universe that Voldemort is not coming back and it was really just supposed to be a PWP –but ended up focusing less on that and more on this view of his family and snakes and maybe something biblical? I don't know –it certainly wasn't my intention and of course if you don't like the story or find it offense because of a list of reasons –YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ.
P.S. This was my attempt at having a lemon with quirky, witty, sex talk and like "shame" or whatever –a friend recommend I give a try so let me know what you think and realize that in the scenes where their talking –it's a game and sort of roleplay where they realize that this relationship and what they are about to do it "wrong" (hence the title) and in a way I wanted them to satirize it.
Okay –that is enough of me rambling –happy reads and see you in the future (maybe)!