The Librarian
Somewhere between Harry helping the sixth year find a book and Tom complimenting the librarian's eyes, Harry was on his knees sucking down a student's cock and gripping his own thighs because he was told he could only use his mouth. He barely interacted with students and now he was putting his job in jeopardy because of one very demanding, very commanding Slytherin whose been a library regular since his first year. Harry has seen him grow up with only breaks during the summer holidays. It rings how wrong it is for him to be doing this, but he can't tell whose being taken advantage of. Tom, a minor who tugged on Harry's hair and adoringly called him a whore, or Harry, the adult being blackmailed into repeating the incident- in increasingly illegal ways.
The first time could have been the only time. It wasn't. Because Tom liked the library and, apparently, liked Harry. And Harry bloomed under someone's attention and responded far too eagerly to Tom's orders. He became a whimpering, whining mess entirely dependent on what Tom wanted. Strange, since every relationship Harry's tried his hand at ended because he couldn't meet their sexual needs or only thought of himself. He could accuse Tom of only thinking of himself, but then he couldn't because the boy always made sure Harry had stained something with his own cum, as well as Tom's own.
It was once, then it was twice, then it was thrice, then it was happening daily. Harry found himself hiding bruises and bite marks, healing shallow slices into his thighs and stomach, and no he couldn't heal anything else or Tom would punish him. He was bent over library tables, pushed up against bookshelves, spread out on his own desk in his own office, fucked in his bed in his hidden chambers, lured into the Astronomy Tower where he wasn't even able to see the stars because he was on his hands on knees. He was fucked in the Forbidden Forest, too, digging at the ground and getting dirt under his fingernails while the side of his face got bruised because the ground wasn't soft and neither was Tom's thrusts.
Tom banned him from touching himself over the summer. And for some fucking reason, Harry obeyed. When the school year began again, he was begging within minutes of Tom touching him.
Luck was to thank when they weren't caught.
Harry tried to resist in bits in pieces, tried moving away from whatever he had growing with Tom, but it wasn't ever successful. Instead he was shaving then he was rubbing a hair-removing lotion over his skin because Tom liked his hair long, but his body smooth. Then he was wearing a cinch tight around his waist, bright lipstick that would smear all over Tom's cock, using an assortment of feminine and girly things to make himself into whatever Tom wanted. And Harry was pretty damn sure it wasn't to make him like a girl, it was just because Tom liked having the power to choose what Harry wore and what Harry did and how Harry looked, felt, and smelt. It shouldn't have been so intoxicating to hand the reigns over.
When Tom graduated, he spent hours taking Harry apart. They fell asleep together and, for the first time, woke up wrapped around each other. It was the most amazing thing Harry had ever experienced.
I found this rotting away in my Doc Manager. I can't remember when I wrote this :D so I thought I should post it. Good news is it'll be the sixth thing posted to this profile and that's amazing! I'm starting to feel accomplished.