Title: Love you, Love you not.
Summary: "Let me show u something beautiful." He whispers. Slash HP/TRLV
Warnings: SLASH (male/male) pairings if ya don't know what that means, swearing, violence in, Evil! Slytherin! Harry! Self harm, a lot of agast!
Pairings: HP/TRLV
Disclaimer: What are u looking at me for? I don't own it!
A/N: Ok, this maybe a little confusing… in Hp book number 2 instead of Ginny getting tom riddles dairy Harry gets it, and then Dumbledore saves Harry and destroys the dairy. Umm yea so please tell me what you think!
Chapter 8:
Harry's pov:
Dearest fucking diary,
Tom's eyes are blue. Blue like the ocean. They're deep as a sea, too...Tom's eyes are a sea...
They pull me under and I sink, but his hands catch me—
Strong, powerful hands. Long fingers, calloused fingertips, probing, searching, questing...gently pressing into my flesh, electrifying—
--catch me and touch me, guide me. He leads me down to our underwater stage and softly kisses me—
His mouth finds mine and he forces my lips apart. I only try to keep them together because he likes defeating me; false defeat, it pleasures him. A challenge; I present an easy challenge and how he rewards me! I'd never want him to not succeed, though...I like the taste of him, like sugar and cigarettes, so bitter, so sweet...
--kisses me. When we break away, I blush and he laughs gaily and slips his arms around my waist. We skip into the hall and I look up at him, mouth in a perfect 'o' of surprise but he's already gone, laughing, and the sound doesn't seem so sweet anymore---
Soft kisses on my neck, near my fluttering pulse, but now his mouth opens slightly and I feel his teeth, hard against my skin, and pain, again and again- he laughs and his hands reach up and run through my hair, then tug at it. My body twists in terror and he straddles me, still laughing cruelly—
--I feel the familiar tug of strings on my hands and I'm jerked out of place, dancing, skipping, my head lolling without support grotesquely, led by an invisible, inaudible force...
Oh, no. Ha. No, I can see him all right, hear him. Look at his hands tilt and pull the braces, watch him deftly manoeuvre that threads so that I'm sent twirling on my delicate shoes. Listen to him laugh at me, can't you hear him saying "Harry darling, do you like this? Do you like it, do you?" My wooden jaw drops and he grins when I am unable to speak.
Then, with a flourish he pulls the braces into the air and the nails slide out of my hands. I trip on my toe and crumple to the ground.
Holding my hand up to the filtered light, I can see the holes from where the nails once were. They have stopped bleeding. I am still inspecting them when he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.
"Are these real?" he asks me. I nod, speechless, and he narrows his eyes. "They could be illusions."
I shrug. They don't hurt.
His face contorts into his Flight-from-Death, sardonic smile. "Tell me," he begins, "does this hurt?"
And he slides his thumbnail into the cut and teases the skin. I cry out and he says, "They're real."
"Damn it, Riddle, that bloody well hurts!" I protest, and he glances at the palm of my hand and says with mild interest, "It's bleeding again."
"I wonder why," I grumble, and he lifts the palm up to his mouth and laps up the blood like a cat. I am fascinated. Then he kisses me. I can taste blood, my blood, on his lips.
He seizes my wrists with a sudden change of mood and drags me into a room. There is a canopy bed with sheets of black silk and he throws me on and he kisses me again, his breathe is hot, and I'm gasping for air but Tom does not believe in me breathing in anything but him...
He should ask before he touches me like that...he should warn me...he should be aware of how it hurts. Or maybe he is and I have mistaken his passion or sadism yet again. Ribbons and lace tangled around my ankles how it binds and how I'm bound, how I desire so much to see the golden Sun once more...
He unzips my jeans with his teeth and drags my favourite denim jeans down to my ankles with them and tosses them to the floor. He rips my red top to shreds in frenzied fire, his fingers scald my skin as the knowledge of my sin boils out of my mind and when he pushes me down my eyes roll into the back of my head as the soul, the spirit of innocence smokes and writhes and evaporates to be gone from myself...that which is cherished shall lie within no more.
A young boy raped like a barren field and used, left battered, but that would be pain, and although this is against my will I am not harmed...I am burning away but his anesthetic of sheer fancy lies over my eyes and do I see the craving, simply physical? You fool me into thinking you need me...deception your name and yet I forget it for the while...
Then I spiral up from the foaming frothy sea, seeing the lights below I wish to turn back to you, but I don't dare...
When I reached the sand I cough, licking the salt from my wounds I wait, for healing never comes easily. Like a god you rise from the ocean and stride towards me and grasp my fingers and send me flying in an overwhelming kiss once more...I left far too soon...
This night will not end well. It never does.
And your hands are cold now, when I remember them warmly and your nails hurt, but I don't protest, I am foolish. I let you take what is mine and therefore what is yours and it's a devil dance in the dark and your lips taste of cigarettes and mine of brine and together we sail through the sky around the new moon and plummet, or feathers disintegrating, into the depths...
This night will not end well. It never does.
I felt myself falling...
TMRHJPTMRHJPTMRHJPTMRHJP
Tom's pov:
I fall so often now, it doesn't seem as though I'd be a Dark Lord, does it? But it's sort of funny how the stronger you get, the more pronounced your weaknesses become. Actually that's not funny. That's sick. But I never said I thought there was a difference. I'm morbid like that.
Harry catches me when I fall. I wish he wouldn't. It' terribly irritating. I don't like him reaching out and touching my hands. Well, I like the feel of his hands all right- on my back, my shoulders, my chest- but not like some sweet angel. I don't like thinking of him as an angel. A fallen angel, that's more like it. One cast from heaven to lie in my arms in chains. I like that idea. I have always liked it.
He's weak. But that makes his strengths, though subtle, more potent. Harry doesn't have a damn clue about how strong he is. I like to pretend I have control over him. Cat and mouse games I play with yours truly. Raping him is just a way to reassure myself.
But what if he decides he doesn't need me...what then? I'm falling, and he's my safety net. What if he wasn't there?
TMRHJPTMRHJPTMRHJPTMRHJP
Fallen angel, valentine
You're on a leash, you're chained, you're mine
Take you, kiss away your tears
You'll confirm my greatest fears
You're one thing I will not lose
But I don't know how to choose
Between what I am and what I need
I need to breathe, I need to bleed
I am the Dark Lord, Flight-from-Death
Yet I need you like my next breath.
A/N: Anna I have now update its ur turn /grins cheeky/ hehe please……
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