Disclaimer, Pairing and Warning: in chapter 01
Every you, Every Me
C & P by IncubusSuccubus
My Heart's a Tart, Your Body's Rent
His 12th birthday was spent in a warm bed, with chocolate, vanilla ice cream; whipped cream and red cherries on a silver tray.
He could pretend that his home life this summer was different than the stories he told his friends and the summers before that.
They wouldn't understand. They had families who love them and friends who believed you were like them and not a freak, not the Boy-who-lived.
They were not alone.
He was afraid they would take the magic away once they found out about his Angel. Like his uncle, they would lock up his magic in the cupboard under the stairs when he received his letter. At least his Angel was understanding and helped 'settle' things up with his Uncle. As long as he was silent he would never be alone.
He would have his Angel. His own magic.
He never saw, heard or spoke of warnings.
When the House-elf appeared, the Angel stopped coming.
Uncle Vernon locked him up since he had no use of the boy during this summer (not when he couldn't offer him to the other uncles). Not when the contract and 'settlement' said so. Of course the boy didn't understand at all. It hardly mattered when-
He was just worried and restless and missed his Angel so.
He thought he was dreaming as he breathlessly ran out from the dark and haunted alley.
He thought he saw his Angel. But it must have been his imagination. Many people have long blond hair and blue eyes. And his Angel never wore a heavy cloak like that, right?
He couldn't see them clearly. The store was too dark and dusty and all the spider webs were so distracting. He tried not to sneeze or make a sound.
The elder had a deeper, colder and more arrogant voice than his Angel though.
It must be someone else.
It must be.
Please let it be someone else.
But like everything else in his life, everything fell appart.
The cold voice kept ringing in his ear and inside his head, mocking cruelly. He slipped away as soon as Mr. Weasley and Malfoy's father started their brawl.
It couldn't be.
His Angel was not his rival's father.
His Angel was a muggle.
Mr. Malfoy was cold and sarcastic and a dark wizard…not an Angel, not /his/.
His chest constricted painfully as he struggled to breathe. He hid behind a large book case deep inside rows and rows of bookcases filled with parchment and thick leather bound books.
His shoulder hurt (from the cold touch), his chest...he clutched his chest with both hands. His heart beat erratically and painfully. His body thrummed in heat, shivering in cold sweat.
"Harry."
He turned around and whipped his wand out, trembling as he saw whom it was.
The man shrugged off his over coat and tossed it on a small stool nearby. His cane was still clutched in his leather-glove covered hand. The aristocratic before him were unmistakably his Angel; only the eyes were more silver blue and cooler, the blond hair was paler and tied to the back. He was not wearing Muggle attire like he wore on their 'dates'. His Angel always wore a white shirt, black cotton pants and a dark green vest that probably dated from the 19th century.
"Stay away from me," Harry choked out.
The man tipped his head to the side and stared at the boy. He stepped closer.
"Don't." Harry choked again. The man halted one or two feet away from him. "Don't come any closer, Mr. Malfoy." He breathed harshly as he stepped back until he his back was against the bookcase.
"Harry," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you." He took a step. "You trust me don't you?" The voice was warm and gentle and not like a Malfoy at all.
"No...no, you can't be him. You're..." he shook his head in denial. His eyes were brimming with tears. He sobbed as the man reached out for him and brushed the tear away.
"I'm sorry."
"No, no, no, no." He tried to push the man away. "You're not him. You're not. I-"
But his words were swallowed as the man took the final step and claimed his lips.
Oh God. It was just like he remembered. The man tasted of warm chocolate and red burgundy wine. It burned hotly inside his mouth. It flared through his body like fire vibrating from the top of his head to the tip of his toe. Harry instinctively grabbed the man's sleeves. His wand dropped on the soft-carpeted floor with a thud.
He gathered the boy in his arms, pressing him against the bookcase with all of his body. The boy fit nicely with his larger frame. He shivered and coaxed apart the boy's lips and tasted the innocent vanilla ice cream as he re-acquainted the less experienced tongue again and again.
Harry whimpered softly when the wet mouth kissed his cheek gently and licked the tears away. He felt the head of the cane nudge his legs open. His legs buckled and parted a little. The man's tongue and mouth traveled down to lick his neck and to suck the skin just /there/. His Angel's hands tugged his shirt out whilst one hand traveled on his back, while the other was exploring his front and his side. He never knew that leather could be so smooth like a child's skin and the head of the cane was cool on his hot sweaty flesh. The hands tickled and caressed everywhere all at once. When the man let go of him, Harry almost fell down on his knees. He panted and moaned and was lost from the man's touches. He was weak with lust and deep loathing for responding to the kisses and touches.
The boy was trembling and flushed red. The boy was hot and oh so deliciously wanton with just a little stimulation. He had taught his boy well. "You want me."
"No," his eyes were closed and his expression was filled with painful raw desire. "No." He whimpered.
The man pressed closer again. "Oh, but you do, Harry." He held the boy's hip tightly. "So let me." Touched. Caressed. Nipped. Licked. Kissed you.
Harry groaned. "Mr. Malfoy. No...I-."
"Shh," he nuzzled the delectable pale neck. "I want to-" he licked the sensitive skin behind his ear, "-pleasure you." He cupped the boy's round buttocks and squeezed them through his pants. His cane came between the boy's legs and gently; he teased the boy's front trouser with the tip of the head. The silver snake with green emeralds gleamed on the black material.
"Oh...sir...oh..." He clutched the man's shoulder hard. His knuckles were white and he could almost feel his fingernails dig and leave scars on the man's back. He rocked his hips and his body vibrated deliciously. His foggy mind heavily clouded with deep lust, told him this was wrong but it felt so right.
"Say you want it, Harry. Say yes." Hot breaths and sweet seductive kisses. "Say you want me-" And say you want me to pleasure you. "-And I'll give you everything." He kissed the boy harshly.
Harry didn't care anymore as his body answered by itself.
"Harry." Breathy whisper that sent shivers down his spine.
His hips buckled. "Yes," he cried out and the world exploded around him like shattering glass.
He had tasted the boy, claimed him.
The boy was his to do as he pleased
It took them a few minutes to right the world at its axis, to bring the boy back to the real world. The boy was proper and golden with his glasses on his face and his shirt tucked in and a thick school robes wrapped around him.
Oh yes, such a pretty boy
He sent the boy away, canceling the silencing and privacy wards and calmly took his cane and his dress robes.
He could still feel the boy's heat in his arms and on his body.
He's mine
A moment after the boy was gone, he went out from the back door silently.
Always
TBC
Thanks to my betas and early readers: Catherine Siviter, Ryoko Ishana, Draco Malfoy, Autumn Sun, Mermaid3290, Harvest, Leila