It was some time ago that I first noticed you staring at me.
I was eating breakfast, and I could feel your gaze burning me, from far across the hall. I raised my head to meet your eyes, and the fire in them peaked my curiosity.
I had always enjoyed taunting you and angering you, and the darkest parts of me wanted to hurt you, and break you, and make you experience true pain, beautiful in it's lightest moments, terrifying in it's darkest. When I saw your stare I knew there was more than annoyance and petty rivalry - you wanted something - and by the way you stared, by the way you worried your lower lip, by the way your emotions were laid out clear across your face, I knew that you wanted me.
Who was I to deny you? It was the perfect opportunity to break something beautiful. Who was I to deny myself a true source of pleasure?
As I looked at you I envisioned taking you then and there, pushing you onto the table and claiming your mouth, tearing moans and growls from your throat, making you crave and want and need. It was then that I decided to take action, to take the chance to revel in your misery, while gaining my own satisfaction. I smirked at you, but softened my gaze, nodded briefly towards the entrance doors, then swept gracefully from the hall.
It was only a few minutes until you joined me, and I could have laughed aloud at the absurdity of the situation. You were doing a better job of concealing your emotions, but the hitch in your breathing as I stepped closer to you was a glaring indication that you were not as composed as you wanted me to believe.
I backed you up until you were against the wall, body pressed tightly to the cold stone. I placed a hand on either side of your head, and lowered my own until our foreheads nearly touched. I smirked as you blushed slightly, a tremor running along your body. I leaned closer still, until my lips touched your ear, and whispered, "Let me fuck you, Harry."
You gasped softly, hands balled into fists at your sides, eyes staring desperately into my own. You leaned forward and barely placed your lips against my own. "If you'll let me," you said, and I could feel your lips moving. I slammed you against the wall and claimed your mouth as my own. You opened your mouth to me and we fought for dominance, pressed tightly together, aware of the reaction the other provoked. I put everything into that kiss, wanting you to burn for me, wanting you to admit defeat and give yourself to me.
And you did.
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I'll never know how we made it to my room. We stumbled and tripped down stairs and through dark halls, never losing touch of the other, never breaking the contact of our fused mouths. Your robes were opened and my vest pulled off, even before we reached our destination. I hurriedly said the password, and then we were inside, and almost running, desperate to make it to my bed.
A furtive glace around to make sure we were alone, a few silencing spells, and we were secure. I pushed you on the bed and in one smooth motion pulled your sweater and undershirt off, and lowered my head to your neck, biting and sucking, smirking as you gasped and squirmed. I made my way down your chest, which was surprisingly muscular, and was pulling your fly down when I felt you shift.
Suddenly I was the one on my back, and you were tearing my clothes off, eager to find my own skin. If I had had any preconceptions of your lack of experience, I was immediately proved wrong. You knew all the right places, and I was amazed when the moans I was hearing proved to be my own. Angry at myself, I once again took control, pulling a quick maneuver that trapped you beneath me. My hands finished their previous journey and divested you of your pants, and then somehow my own were off, and it was skin against skin.
I doubt I have ever felt anything nicer. It was like fire, your skin burning beneath mine, and I couldn't get enough of it. You thrust your hips up and we were connected so intimately, and it was all I could do to not lose control and come right then and there.
Growling, I grabbed your hips and forced them down, then ground my pelvis into yours. The look on your face was incredible - such sheer ecstasy was evident, your eyes shining brightly, your mouth open and inviting. I kissed you again, with as much force as I could, and when you moaned I could feel it in my mouth.
I was so hard, so very, very hard, and you were so very, very enticing. Using saliva, I prepared you, as you squirmed and sighed and clutched my shoulders, wrapping your legs around my waist as I entered you. It was hot and tight, and it was heaven. I had been with many before, but you were special. Though I felt nothing but lust for you then, there was always that something, that small spark that threatened to flare into something unimaginable, and at that moment I first felt it.
I pumped and you were thrusting, and it was over quickly. My vision exploded and I'm almost certain that your name was in the scream I gave out, and I know that mine was in yours. I stayed in you for a few moments, letting myself catch my breath, feeling your heartbeat pound underneath me. Finally I pulled away and collapsed beside you, watching as your chest rose and fell, listened as your breathing finally evened out.
Then it was time to leave, seeing as my roommates would return at any moment, and the sight of a very naked, very sweaty Potter was something that they would not have properly appreciated. You dressed quickly and made to leave, but I stopped you at the last minute, kissing you roughly. Your eyes widened considerably, but you said nothing. I whispered "You're mine."
The look you gave me was priceless - there was disbelief and a small glimmer of hope, until I pushed you out the door and slammed it behind you.
It was sometime until I finally heard your footsteps leave.
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We met several times that week, and several the next, and so on. Our encounters were always charged, our eagerness and desperation unmatched by anything else that we knew. We were always rough, but perhaps our roughest time yet was on the day that I found the black armband.
It was lying in the Quidditch locker rooms, a small, black armband, sitting glaringly on the clean tiles. We had just finished a combined session of practice, and were the last ones into the showers. You had started a shower, and I was preparing to join you, when I noticed the band.
I picked it up and twirled it around. You noticed it and stopped dead in your tracks.
"Potter, this is a Hufflepuff armband, is it not?"
Frankly, you looked terrified, as though you were imagining something horrible. You lost all the color in your face, and you halted completely, hands clenched into fists.
"This is to remember Diggory, right Potter?" I asked, nonchalantly, sadistically enjoying your obvious pain.
"Yes," you said, your voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"Silly things," I scoffed. "If Diggory were stupid enough to get himself killed, why honor his ridiculous memory? Only the weak are killed."
The fury that flashed in your eyes was incredible, as you stalked towards me.
"What did you just say?" you asked, looking as though you would kill me that very moment.
"Well I guess it's not really his fault now, is it? It was you that got him killed, after all."
I heard you gasp, your fury falling as though something inside you finally fell and shattered - and then the anger was back. You hit me, hard. I stumbled backwards and before I knew it you had jumped me, slamming me to the ground. You hit me hard in the stomach, hard in the mouth, and I tasted blood.
You grabbed the collar of my robes and slammed my head into the ground, hard enough that I saw stars. I retaliated by lifting a leg and kicking you hard in the chest. You went sprawling backwards, and I quickly straddled you. I then grabbed your collar and lifted your face to mine.
"You'll never fucking do that again," I spat, before crushing my lips to yours, biting roughly on your lower lip, tasting as your blood mixed with mine. You moaned low in your throat, and your hands clutched my shoulders, nails raking along my skin. I pushed you down again and flipped you over, ripping your pants and boxers off, leaving you open and waiting.
You made a motion to get up, but I slammed you down, hastily undoing my own pants. I entered you without preparing you, and the scream you gave made my head spin. I began thrusting roughly, and to my amazement you lifted your arms up and met them, head thrown back, moans pouring out of your enticing mouth.
I picked up the pace and grabbed you, pumping, and your strength gave you, making you collapse on the floor. I bit your neck harshly, and I could hear you whimpering. You were mumbling incoherently.
"I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry, oh god, oh god, oh god."
I grabbed your hips and yanked you towards me and you came, spurting onto the cold floor, and seconds later I followed, the exquisite feel of power and pleasure burning in my veins.
"That's what it feels like to have power," I growled, pulling out, pushing you off to the side.
"I hope you enjoyed it." I said, and you looked at me strangely, waiting to hear the rest of my sentence.
".murderer."
Something in you broke. You lowered your eyes and looked away, fury and hostility and rage pushed aside. I saw a solitary tear fall, and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at me. The humiliation and pain and grief and guilt were glaring at me, screaming your pain from your gaze. You tried to twist away, but I held on as the tears welled and you began to cry in earnest. A great shuddering gasp escaped from you, and you began to shake, as you rocked your body back and forth.
"I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, oh god, I didn't mean it, I didn't want it to happen, oh god, oh god, oh god."
I stared at you the whole time, expression blank, eyes cold.
"I hate you," you spat, finally regaining some of the anger you had had.
"You're a fucking bastard," you shouted, wrenching you head from my grasp.
I sighed and stood up, and your eyes followed my movements.
"Potter, I don't care. I just don't care enough to feel for you."
I left you alone on the cold floor, alone with the sobs that started, alone with the tears that streamed down your face, alone with the guilt that was eating you from the inside.
I left, and left you all alone.
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It was the next day, and I was making my way to potions, hurrying because I was late. I had just rounded the last corner, when I ran straight into something solid and large.
Weasley.
He stood before me, attempting to look strong and foreboding. Which, at a good 3 or 4 inches taller than me, he did. Or would have, if it were not for lack of muscles.
He crossed his arms and glared, trying his best to intimidate me. I was curious as to what he was going to say, but intimidated, I was not.
"What the hell have you done to Harry?" he asked, eyes narrowing to tiny, angry slits.
"What do you mean, Weasley?" I asked, exasperated.
"You know what I mean. I don't know what you guys have been doing, but he came in the other night looking like shit. He had obviously been crying, and when I asked what happened all he said was your name."
I tried not to look smug, but the smirk came out anyway. "So sorry, Weasley, he must have not mentioned our, 'activities', to you."
He looked confused, but quickly pushed it away. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"We've been fucking," I said, simply.
His mouth dropped open and he took a startled step back. "You WHAT?!" he asked, looking completely confused. "You have not! Don't go saying things like that, you nasty little ferret!"
I rolled my eyes. "The truth hurts, does it not?"
He growled and stepped closer, stepping so that we were practically touching. "Don't you dare spread horrible lies like that. You're disgusting," he spat.
"It's not disgusting - he's quite good at it, actually, and-" I was going to add something more, but he grabbed me and pushed me against the wall.
"You shut the fuck up, right now," he said, eyes blazing.
I grinned widely, knowing I must have looked crazy. "He is though. But I give as good as I get. He loves when I lick his skin, you know, especially that small birth mark on his inner thigh."
Weasley looked as though I had slapped him. He dropped me immediately and took several steps back.
"How, how did you know, he doesn't tell anyone about that, it's.private."
My grin widened even more. "He never told me - I found it on my own."
He made a strangled noise, and stared at me in disbelief. We stood like that for several seconds, until he turned and hurried away.
I smiled.
I was eating breakfast, and I could feel your gaze burning me, from far across the hall. I raised my head to meet your eyes, and the fire in them peaked my curiosity.
I had always enjoyed taunting you and angering you, and the darkest parts of me wanted to hurt you, and break you, and make you experience true pain, beautiful in it's lightest moments, terrifying in it's darkest. When I saw your stare I knew there was more than annoyance and petty rivalry - you wanted something - and by the way you stared, by the way you worried your lower lip, by the way your emotions were laid out clear across your face, I knew that you wanted me.
Who was I to deny you? It was the perfect opportunity to break something beautiful. Who was I to deny myself a true source of pleasure?
As I looked at you I envisioned taking you then and there, pushing you onto the table and claiming your mouth, tearing moans and growls from your throat, making you crave and want and need. It was then that I decided to take action, to take the chance to revel in your misery, while gaining my own satisfaction. I smirked at you, but softened my gaze, nodded briefly towards the entrance doors, then swept gracefully from the hall.
It was only a few minutes until you joined me, and I could have laughed aloud at the absurdity of the situation. You were doing a better job of concealing your emotions, but the hitch in your breathing as I stepped closer to you was a glaring indication that you were not as composed as you wanted me to believe.
I backed you up until you were against the wall, body pressed tightly to the cold stone. I placed a hand on either side of your head, and lowered my own until our foreheads nearly touched. I smirked as you blushed slightly, a tremor running along your body. I leaned closer still, until my lips touched your ear, and whispered, "Let me fuck you, Harry."
You gasped softly, hands balled into fists at your sides, eyes staring desperately into my own. You leaned forward and barely placed your lips against my own. "If you'll let me," you said, and I could feel your lips moving. I slammed you against the wall and claimed your mouth as my own. You opened your mouth to me and we fought for dominance, pressed tightly together, aware of the reaction the other provoked. I put everything into that kiss, wanting you to burn for me, wanting you to admit defeat and give yourself to me.
And you did.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------
I'll never know how we made it to my room. We stumbled and tripped down stairs and through dark halls, never losing touch of the other, never breaking the contact of our fused mouths. Your robes were opened and my vest pulled off, even before we reached our destination. I hurriedly said the password, and then we were inside, and almost running, desperate to make it to my bed.
A furtive glace around to make sure we were alone, a few silencing spells, and we were secure. I pushed you on the bed and in one smooth motion pulled your sweater and undershirt off, and lowered my head to your neck, biting and sucking, smirking as you gasped and squirmed. I made my way down your chest, which was surprisingly muscular, and was pulling your fly down when I felt you shift.
Suddenly I was the one on my back, and you were tearing my clothes off, eager to find my own skin. If I had had any preconceptions of your lack of experience, I was immediately proved wrong. You knew all the right places, and I was amazed when the moans I was hearing proved to be my own. Angry at myself, I once again took control, pulling a quick maneuver that trapped you beneath me. My hands finished their previous journey and divested you of your pants, and then somehow my own were off, and it was skin against skin.
I doubt I have ever felt anything nicer. It was like fire, your skin burning beneath mine, and I couldn't get enough of it. You thrust your hips up and we were connected so intimately, and it was all I could do to not lose control and come right then and there.
Growling, I grabbed your hips and forced them down, then ground my pelvis into yours. The look on your face was incredible - such sheer ecstasy was evident, your eyes shining brightly, your mouth open and inviting. I kissed you again, with as much force as I could, and when you moaned I could feel it in my mouth.
I was so hard, so very, very hard, and you were so very, very enticing. Using saliva, I prepared you, as you squirmed and sighed and clutched my shoulders, wrapping your legs around my waist as I entered you. It was hot and tight, and it was heaven. I had been with many before, but you were special. Though I felt nothing but lust for you then, there was always that something, that small spark that threatened to flare into something unimaginable, and at that moment I first felt it.
I pumped and you were thrusting, and it was over quickly. My vision exploded and I'm almost certain that your name was in the scream I gave out, and I know that mine was in yours. I stayed in you for a few moments, letting myself catch my breath, feeling your heartbeat pound underneath me. Finally I pulled away and collapsed beside you, watching as your chest rose and fell, listened as your breathing finally evened out.
Then it was time to leave, seeing as my roommates would return at any moment, and the sight of a very naked, very sweaty Potter was something that they would not have properly appreciated. You dressed quickly and made to leave, but I stopped you at the last minute, kissing you roughly. Your eyes widened considerably, but you said nothing. I whispered "You're mine."
The look you gave me was priceless - there was disbelief and a small glimmer of hope, until I pushed you out the door and slammed it behind you.
It was sometime until I finally heard your footsteps leave.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------
We met several times that week, and several the next, and so on. Our encounters were always charged, our eagerness and desperation unmatched by anything else that we knew. We were always rough, but perhaps our roughest time yet was on the day that I found the black armband.
It was lying in the Quidditch locker rooms, a small, black armband, sitting glaringly on the clean tiles. We had just finished a combined session of practice, and were the last ones into the showers. You had started a shower, and I was preparing to join you, when I noticed the band.
I picked it up and twirled it around. You noticed it and stopped dead in your tracks.
"Potter, this is a Hufflepuff armband, is it not?"
Frankly, you looked terrified, as though you were imagining something horrible. You lost all the color in your face, and you halted completely, hands clenched into fists.
"This is to remember Diggory, right Potter?" I asked, nonchalantly, sadistically enjoying your obvious pain.
"Yes," you said, your voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"Silly things," I scoffed. "If Diggory were stupid enough to get himself killed, why honor his ridiculous memory? Only the weak are killed."
The fury that flashed in your eyes was incredible, as you stalked towards me.
"What did you just say?" you asked, looking as though you would kill me that very moment.
"Well I guess it's not really his fault now, is it? It was you that got him killed, after all."
I heard you gasp, your fury falling as though something inside you finally fell and shattered - and then the anger was back. You hit me, hard. I stumbled backwards and before I knew it you had jumped me, slamming me to the ground. You hit me hard in the stomach, hard in the mouth, and I tasted blood.
You grabbed the collar of my robes and slammed my head into the ground, hard enough that I saw stars. I retaliated by lifting a leg and kicking you hard in the chest. You went sprawling backwards, and I quickly straddled you. I then grabbed your collar and lifted your face to mine.
"You'll never fucking do that again," I spat, before crushing my lips to yours, biting roughly on your lower lip, tasting as your blood mixed with mine. You moaned low in your throat, and your hands clutched my shoulders, nails raking along my skin. I pushed you down again and flipped you over, ripping your pants and boxers off, leaving you open and waiting.
You made a motion to get up, but I slammed you down, hastily undoing my own pants. I entered you without preparing you, and the scream you gave made my head spin. I began thrusting roughly, and to my amazement you lifted your arms up and met them, head thrown back, moans pouring out of your enticing mouth.
I picked up the pace and grabbed you, pumping, and your strength gave you, making you collapse on the floor. I bit your neck harshly, and I could hear you whimpering. You were mumbling incoherently.
"I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry, oh god, oh god, oh god."
I grabbed your hips and yanked you towards me and you came, spurting onto the cold floor, and seconds later I followed, the exquisite feel of power and pleasure burning in my veins.
"That's what it feels like to have power," I growled, pulling out, pushing you off to the side.
"I hope you enjoyed it." I said, and you looked at me strangely, waiting to hear the rest of my sentence.
".murderer."
Something in you broke. You lowered your eyes and looked away, fury and hostility and rage pushed aside. I saw a solitary tear fall, and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at me. The humiliation and pain and grief and guilt were glaring at me, screaming your pain from your gaze. You tried to twist away, but I held on as the tears welled and you began to cry in earnest. A great shuddering gasp escaped from you, and you began to shake, as you rocked your body back and forth.
"I didn't mean it, it's not my fault, oh god, I didn't mean it, I didn't want it to happen, oh god, oh god, oh god."
I stared at you the whole time, expression blank, eyes cold.
"I hate you," you spat, finally regaining some of the anger you had had.
"You're a fucking bastard," you shouted, wrenching you head from my grasp.
I sighed and stood up, and your eyes followed my movements.
"Potter, I don't care. I just don't care enough to feel for you."
I left you alone on the cold floor, alone with the sobs that started, alone with the tears that streamed down your face, alone with the guilt that was eating you from the inside.
I left, and left you all alone.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------
It was the next day, and I was making my way to potions, hurrying because I was late. I had just rounded the last corner, when I ran straight into something solid and large.
Weasley.
He stood before me, attempting to look strong and foreboding. Which, at a good 3 or 4 inches taller than me, he did. Or would have, if it were not for lack of muscles.
He crossed his arms and glared, trying his best to intimidate me. I was curious as to what he was going to say, but intimidated, I was not.
"What the hell have you done to Harry?" he asked, eyes narrowing to tiny, angry slits.
"What do you mean, Weasley?" I asked, exasperated.
"You know what I mean. I don't know what you guys have been doing, but he came in the other night looking like shit. He had obviously been crying, and when I asked what happened all he said was your name."
I tried not to look smug, but the smirk came out anyway. "So sorry, Weasley, he must have not mentioned our, 'activities', to you."
He looked confused, but quickly pushed it away. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"We've been fucking," I said, simply.
His mouth dropped open and he took a startled step back. "You WHAT?!" he asked, looking completely confused. "You have not! Don't go saying things like that, you nasty little ferret!"
I rolled my eyes. "The truth hurts, does it not?"
He growled and stepped closer, stepping so that we were practically touching. "Don't you dare spread horrible lies like that. You're disgusting," he spat.
"It's not disgusting - he's quite good at it, actually, and-" I was going to add something more, but he grabbed me and pushed me against the wall.
"You shut the fuck up, right now," he said, eyes blazing.
I grinned widely, knowing I must have looked crazy. "He is though. But I give as good as I get. He loves when I lick his skin, you know, especially that small birth mark on his inner thigh."
Weasley looked as though I had slapped him. He dropped me immediately and took several steps back.
"How, how did you know, he doesn't tell anyone about that, it's.private."
My grin widened even more. "He never told me - I found it on my own."
He made a strangled noise, and stared at me in disbelief. We stood like that for several seconds, until he turned and hurried away.
I smiled.