Thanks a lot, to everyone that is following this fanfic and favourited it. My gratitude to Carottal, KikyCocks, ItzTijgertje, Gurgaraneth and especially the guests for reviewing it. Your opinion matters a looooooooooooot to me.
His long graceful legs were cladded in leather, along with his torso. He was Lean and angular, but looked feminine from afar. The sharp movements with which he brought the whip down was hypnotizing Voldemort, so much that he forgot to stick to the outskirts of the crowd. He had to get in closer. Had to see more.
His feet moved and he pushed his way through the crowd until he was right there, at the forefront, smelling leather, sex and pain. The leather played off his body in interesting ways. He tried to ignore the other details—taut piece of ass, broad shoulders, the V-shape of the back at odds with the first impression of femininity. His cock throbbed, awakened and aroused. Not for the woman, but for the man who delivered those precise blows with grave silence. Voldemort surged to the right of the crowd in order to see him, his face.
The face stole his breath away. It was a beautifully constructed one. In that pale face lurked the most beautiful, emerald eyes Voldemort had ever seen, and lips like they'd been cut with knife blades, perfect, sharp, and deadly. He had dark messy curls that didn't look messy at all. The man wore a cold, motionless, focused expression. Voldemort didn't see passion in what he was doing. He didn't see displeasure. He just saw a man going through the motions. It hit him, like a punch to the throat. The need to see pleasure in those emerald eyes. The urge to break that fierce concentration, for emotion to crack that smooth veneer. Not for anyone else, but for him. With him.
The man, the Dom, was with someone else, but that didn't matter. Neither did it factor in that he was topping a woman. Voldemort had him in his sights. This was who would make him feel again. Who would give him release. He watched them, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as the Dom took his sub to the clouds, as she sighed and folded like a cheap suit in his arms.
Everyone around Voldemort sighed and applauded. The Dom stiffened then looked up and around as if he'd only now realized he had an audience. He cradled the woman to his chest, whispered in her ear as he kissed her temple and smoothed a hand over her head. He did all that, but his face never lost its detachment.
That wouldn't do for Voldemort. He'd demand more. No way would he accept being topped by someone who wouldn't or couldn't show their pleasure at his submission. His gift. Because submission was a gift to be treasured. Appreciated.
Voldemort melted into the crowd, watching from the shadows as the woman finally curled up on a bed in the corner of the room. She looked as if she'd fallen asleep. The Dom disappeared into another room without a backward glance. Voldemort waited, but he didn't see him return so he went back upstairs to the main area. A sub was being spanked by a Dom. Someone else was being flogged. He went from room to room, barely registering the sights and sounds and smells. His full attention remained on that Dom in the basement, he needed to know his identity.
In the bar area, where curiously no alcohol was being served, he got himself a glass of water and filled out a detailed questionnaire about himself, his kinks and everything else. Damn, he half expected them to ask about his credit score. He eavesdropped on hushed conversations, but none was about the man. His toy. They'd be playing soon enough. He always got his man. Always. He hadn't been looking, but he'd found himself a brand-new toy. His body tingled with that thought.
The Dom would hurt him. Voldemort had seen the tightly coiled power in those lean muscles, the way the man stood, the way he landed his blows. He could hurt him perfectly well. Exactly what he wanted.
He exited the bar area just in time to see his quarry—now dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a crisp white shirt —duck into a room on the top floor. Voldemort remained where he was. The biting need that rode him for days remained, but he tamped it down. Now that he had someone in his sights he'd get what he wanted soon enough. He'd selected a new toy so now, no one else would do. He ignored the crowd, pulling his dark cap low on his forehead.
The Dom didn't stay in the room upstairs long. He came out a short time later and quickly descended the stairs like a man on a mission. Voldemort followed him into a bathroom and stood by the door as his new toy rolled up his shirt sleeves and washed his hands in a nearby sink. When he turned away to wipe his hands via the paper towel machine mounted to the wall, he stepped out from behind his hiding place.
His new toy didn't seem surprised to see him. He gazed at Voldemort through the mirror. Cool. Unruffled. In control. It made his blood race. Made his palms sweat,
"What's your name?"
The man didn't answer. He remained facing the mirror, head cocked at an angle, watching Voldemort watch him. Their appearances couldn't be any different. The Dom with his pale, milky skin, impeccably dressed, and Voldemort with his wrinkled shirt missing buttons, the ragged holes in his faded jeans, black motorcycle boots and the taste of weed and alcohol on his tongue. When he spoke he sounded rough, words halting with need,
"I watched you. Downstairs. I want it."
"No."
Just one word, but it fired Voldemort like nothing ever had. He stepped up close, pressing his front to the Dom's back. Voldemort was hard, achingly hard,
"I want you. Give me what you gave her."
It was a demand, but Voldemort heard hollow need all over his words. The man spun around, lightning fast, and grabbed Voldemort by the throat. Bloody hell. His balls tightened, threatening to explode. By that. Just that. Voldemort realized when he peered up at him through his eyelids that the man's expression hadn't changed. He kept his hands fisted at his sides. Waiting. Body pulsing. He whispered,
"Give it to me."
He slammed Voldemort into a stall door. He groaned,
"Touch me again and I'll break your neck."
The man released him and was gone before Voldemort could gulp in air. His heart pounded as he clutched the edge of the sink, breathing fast. He met his own wild gaze in the mirror, shivering at the hungry grin on his face. A chase. He could do that.
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
s/12845629/1/Ensnared
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
s/12775290/1/Elusion
Check out my other fanfic named "No Escape." If you haven't checked it out yet. Just visit my profile or click on the link below
s/12572454/1/No-Escape
If you have the time, then check out my other Harry Potter fanfic labelled "Desperation" Just visit my profile or click on the link below,
s/12660747/1/