Dedicated to Nocturnal Bastard and Sin Maxwell and Co.

Harry looked through half lidded eyes from his spot on the floor, his body leaning heavily against Voldemort's leg. He wasn't really listening, he didn't feel like it. He really didn't care about politics. He didn't care about them when he was after Voldemort and he didn't care now that he was with them. The only thing he cared about currently was the strong hand running through his hair and caressing his neck firmly causing him to bury his face into the older man's leg as a shudder ran through his body and his breath hitch. He was seriously resisting the urge to moan or arch himself against Voldemort's leg. He had some dignity left, but only enough to keep himself from doing it in front of death eaters.

Soon he didn't have to worry about that though, and Voldemort was pulling him into his lap, a small smirk gracing his features. "Very good boy," he murmured in Parseltongue, his fingers gripping Harry's hair slightly and tipping the younger man's head back with it. Harry's own hands came up willingly and he heard a pleased sound issued from Voldemort as he buried his hands in the man's hair, pulling him closer as the man latched onto his neck, sucking almost greedily.

Harry arched slightly and moaned, allowing his body to be played. He wanted to get close; as close as possible. He didn't want this to be taken away. Not after this, no; he needed it too much. His body craved it. He went out of his way now to make Voldemort happy. He hated being left alone in the manor while Voldemort left for days on end. He couldn't handle it, and he didn't want to see if, for some reason, he could.

"You've been so good lately, pet." Voldemort murmured once he pulled back, letting his hands run firmly up the younger man's back, then down again, coming to rest on Harry's waist pushing him back slightly as the green eyed man whimpered slightly. "Stop it." Voldemort commanded, and Harry did, allowing his body to be moved however Voldemort wished it.

The man watched his pet, his Harry, as the young man let him move his body like a puppeteer would a marionette. His eyes narrowed as he gripped the young man's hair cruelly at the nape of his neck. "I wonder why that is so, my pet, this radical change..."

Harry only whimpered, knowing the words weren't poised as a question. He didn't protest though and keep his arms limp where they lay against Voldemort's chest where they'd fallen from his hair. The only part of his body that tensed was his back, and only because of the ruthless grip Voldemort had on his hair.

"You have my interest piqued, pet, what is it you are planning? Do you miss me so much when I am away?" Voldemort hissed, his grip becoming so harsh Harry felt blood trickle down his neck.

"Master..." He whimpered.

The hand in his hair let go immediately and Harry could tell from the look on Voldemort's face that it was out of shock.

Harry recoiled almost immediately as he saw the look on Voldemort's face. Had he bollixed it up? Would Voldemort be angry? Harry couldn't exactly tell, he'd ended up on the floor in his panic, looking up at Voldemort as he supported his weight on his hands, leaning back on them.

He'd thought it'd make Voldemort happy...Hadn't that been what he'd wanted? To break Harry? To have him as a pet? To own him? Harry didn't think he could take rejection, not now. So, like when he was at the Dursley's and he needed to detach himself; he closed his eyes and waited.



He waited for the pain he knew would come with such a transgression. He waited and flinched when he felt a weight settle on his legs. Then there was a hand on his throat, and his arms buckled. He expected pressure. To stop breathing. Then the hand moved over his face, and into his hair, avoiding the abused flesh by his nape. Then there were lips on his own, and a weight settling on him that was anything but threatening.

Harry mewled, tentatively bringing his hands up to touch Voldemort, his breathing hitching as one of Voldemort's hands grabbed one of his own, lacing his fingers with Harry's and then pushing it against the ground as he let Harry do what he willed with the other.

Harry could feel the man's excitement and was more than aware of his own as he thrust back against the body rutting against his own. His breathing was erratic and his body was on fire. He wanted this. He actually wanted this. "Please?" he moaned.

Voldemort smirked against his neck, biting harshly as Harry arched into him quickly with the contact. "Say it again, Harry," he hissed.

The younger man didn't give it a second thought. "Master."

Each and every time he said it Voldemort rewarded him. First with kisses, then touches, then skin on skin contact and before Harry knew what was happening has was looking down at Voldemort. The man's hands entwined with his own as they braced him and he leaned back slightly onto the man's bent legs. Grinding himself down Harry loved the effect it had on both of them.

Then his muscles went taunt, his back rigid, and he could feel the nails digging into his hips as Voldemort arched up, pushing further into him.

Then reality snapped back into place and Harry collapsed against the older man's chest and both their breathing, fast and uneven, met Harry's ears.


I have two new stories:

My Phobia: Harry only feels safe when he's in his Cupboard or with Tom. The Dark Lord can't always be around though, and his cupboard isn't there anymore.

These Eyes: Harry learns at an young age that he can see what others can't. When he gets to Hogwarts he meets a charming young man by the name of Tom Riddle, but really, no one else can see him, yet.

I'd like to know which one I should post, coz it's one or the other. Not both. Tell me what you think!