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Harry cupped Voldemort's nape and brought him closer. He smelt like sex and smoke. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, panting softly.

"Did you get everything you wanted, V?"

Voldemort lifted an eyebrow in a silent query.

"I'm not going to call you Voldemort. Don't expect that from me."

Voldemort's lips tightened,

"Really?"

Harry brushed his nose over Voldemort's.

"Yep. Answer the question."

Voldemort said after a short pause. His gaze dropped to Harry's mouth and stayed.

"Not quite everything."

Harry asked gently,

"What else do you want?"

Voldemort shifted until his lips were brushing Harry's cheek

"A lot. I want a lot of things, Mr. Potter, but right now I'd settle for you. A taste of you."

He phrased it as a question, but Harry was sure that just like everything Voldemort said, he meant it as a demand.

"If you wish to kiss me, V, all you have to do is beg. You do it so prettily."

Voldemort's nostrils flared.

"I don't beg, and don't call me that."

He lurched forward, mashing his lips against Harry's. They froze like that,

Harry heard Voldemort's breath rattling as the other man waited for Harry's next move. Harry moved his head back a bit, breaking their connection. Voldemort's Adam's apple bobbed. Harry smiled and brushed their lips together. Voldemort made a sound, low and husky in his throat. Harry knew exactly how he felt. Just the press of their lips jacked up his heartbeat. He finally murmured,

"Open for me, V,"

Voldemort did. Harry flicked his tongue over Voldemort's torn bottom lip then dipped inside, slowly, carefully. Voldemort's breath hitched. The palm he'd pressed to Harry's chest curled, his fingers scraping against his skin. Harry hummed and delved deeper, sinking into the moist heat of Voldemort's mouth. Voldemort clutched him, tongue meeting Harry's in a tentative brush. Voldemort tasted sweet, like caramel. And a tad bitter. Dark chocolate. Harry went in search of more. He palmed the back of Voldemort's head, held him firmly and tilted his head to the side. Voldemort came to him, his tongue lashing against Harry's in a more hurried touch, all inhibitions gone.

Harry smiled, teasing Voldemort's tongue with the tip of his own. The man shook and pressed closer. The feel of him was different. With each swipe pf his tongue, Voldemort moaned a little louder, pressed a little bit closer.

Harry kissed like a man who hadn't done it in a while. Kissing was an indulgence Harry hadn't fully allowed himself in years, at least not to this depth and extent. But kissing Voldemort was like tasting an old and damn expensive cognac. Meant to be savoured, to be sipped leisurely. Harry wasn't rushing it and every time Voldemort tried to pick up the pace, Harry tightened his hold on the other man's nape so that he would get the message and slow his roll.

Finally, Harry broke the kiss and stared at Voldemort. The man was practically glowing, cheekbones stark and coloured red, eyes heavy and slitted, lips wet and swollen.

"You taste good, V."

He dove back in before Voldemort could respond. Sucking on his tongue, a hard pull that made his body clench when the man whimpered. Voldemort matched him perfectly, twisting his tongue over Harry's, their teeth knocking every now and again.

Harry lost track of everything but Voldemort's taste, the feel of him between his legs, under his fingertips, the sound of him. He was surrounded by the man, his senses taken over by him. He'd fight it, but he wasn't meant to win this. From the instant Voldemort had accosted him in the bathroom at the club, Harry had realized that this was meant to happen. He was meant to give in, to be here on his knees, holding Voldemort's face between his hands, kissing him as if he'd be lost without the sweet taste of the other man filling his taste buds.

He broke away, gulping air, chest heaving. Voldemort did the same, that crooked self-satisfied smirk on his face as he licked his lips,

"V"

Something flickered in Voldemort's eyes then disappeared. He spoke,

"I have to go."

Harry nodded,

"Okay."

He made himself let go of Voldemort and got to his feet.

He held out a hand, pulling Voldemort to his feet when he took it,

"Come on."

Voldemort stared down at himself with a wrinkled brow,

"Damn. I need to clean up."

Harry pointed to his private bathroom.

"Through there. There's a small closet where I keep spare clothes. I think you'll find something that fits in there."

Suspicion darkened Voldemort's gaze, but he strode to the bathroom and went in, closing the door behind him. Harry held on to the edges of his desk with both hands and tried to breathe calmly, evenly. He needed to think. To call Sirius and call off the attack. He moved and the mess in his pants had him grimacing. Damn. He'd really lost control, hadn't he? He stared at down at his desk. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He pulled out the pack of wet wipes he kept in his desk drawer and wiped his hands. His shirt had smears of blood on the front so he took it off. He'd been so sure he'd never be in a position like the one he faced right this second. Since his pants were black, he brushed a hand over his crotch to check that the moisture wasn't visible. All good on the front.

"Hey."

He turned at the sound of Voldemort's voice. He'd cleaned up good. All traces of blood and tears were gone. Couldn't quite hide his swollen, cut lip, though. Or the evidence of his belt around his neck. He wore one of Harry's shirts, a lilac colour, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.

"Are you okay?"

Voldemort nodded.

"Yeah."

"Let me change my shirt and I'll walk out with you."

Voldemort frowned.

"That's not—"

"Non-negotiable."

Harry didn't even look at him as he hurried to his bathroom. He quickly unhooked a blue shirt from one of the hangers, slipped it on then walked over to the sink.

Harry froze in the process of buttoning his shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were...different. Lighter? They were sparkling and looked so full of life. He looked relaxed. More relaxed than he had felt in years. And felt inherently calm. He didn't even feel this way after a good morning of yoga and meditation.

He swallowed. What had Voldemort done to him?

Check out my other fanfic named "Ensnared". It's actually a Harry Potter Version of "The Beauty and the Beast" Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback

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Check out my fanfic named "Elusion". Let me know what you guys think. Just follow the link below or visit my profile. Looking forward your feedback

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