Longing (Hatred Bleeds part 1)

A soft moan escaped Draco's mouth. Morning light crept inside the room through the window curtains, shining light across the boys bare skin. He bit down on the soft flesh of his lip, his hand brushing up against his stomach. Clasped in his other hand was a steal blade. He gripped it tightly, not quite willing to put it to use just yet. Meanwhile his free hand felt along his torso, savoring the feel of his own skin. His cock throbbed slightly, aching to be touched. Draco slid his hand up to his mouth. He sucked on his fingers, caoting them in saliva. He let out another moan as he brought his hand down to his cock. He tugged on it, played with it teasingly before wrapping his palm around his cock.

"Gods...Potter." He whispered.

Fantasing about Potter had become a bit of a nasty habit of his these days. It had began ofcourse, with the dreams. It had become a regular occurance to have dreams about his enemy. The dreams started after the end of Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts. Never had he expected he'd have such intense sexual dreams about "the boy who lived." They always started with him and Potter meeting in an empty classroom or some other such place.
He would look at him and the familiar feeling of hatred would stir up in his stomach. Potter was foul, the lowest form of wizard as far as Draco was concerned...well except for maybe Weasley.A fight would pursue, leaving them both covered in bruises and blood. He has had many dreams of beating Potter to a pulp but never had the fighting actually led to something so vile. It would lead to...a kiss? It still confused him to think about. He would devour Potters lips, making him cry out with pain as Draco bit down hard on his lip. Harry bled from the wound, the taste of Potters blood excited him. He craved more. These dreams frightened him. It wasnt like him to dream of kissing Potter. It wasnt like him at all to be dreaming of fucking the boy senseless. Worst of all it wasnt like him to be...turned on by these dreams.

Draco pushed these thoughts away. Instead choosing to concentrate on the object of his current obssession. He pictured Harry as he remembered him. Potter was lean, his body toned from countless Quiditch practice. His hair was always sexily tossled. His eyes were what Draco liked most about the boy. They were a deep clear green. He hated how much he loved those eyes. He hated Potter, every single thing about him. Hated how badly he wanted him. Dracos eyes squeezed shut as he stroked his cock, concentrating on images of Potter. His sleak body was now coated in a thin sheet of sweat. His golden hair was sticking to his forehead. Draco gripped the knife is his hand harder. He brought it up to his chest. Cautiously he graxed the blade over his skin. Not yet making his mark. He shivered at the feel of the cool blade on his skin. He licked his bottom lip, feeling how close he was. He took the blade and pushed harder, neatly slicing across his chest. He felt the sting as the blood mixed with sweat and he moaned louder than before. He took the blade to his mouth, licking across its length. Taking in the tase of his own blood.

He made more cuts along his stomach, tears beginning to well in his eyes. He hated Potter...hated him with everything inside him. Draco made a long cut along his arm, opening his eyes to watch as the blood slowly trickled down himself. Draco arched his back as he felt his orgasm erupt from him. Potter deserved nothing but pain for making him feel like this. He hated Potter...he hated how much he wanted him. He hated that no matter what he could never have him. Not even for a moment.

Draco's breathing slowed. He lied there covered in his own sweat, cum, and blood for a long moment. A tear gently rolled down his face and he wiped it away furiously. He hated him, everything about him.

end