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This was beyond reckless, stalking someone, demanding he accept his submission, but Voldemort didn't care about any of that. He'd shown up at Ginny's door after bribing the girl at the DMV for her address. Slut that she was, Ginny got wet simply at the sight of his gun, but unlike the last time, Voldemort wasn't interested in her. He needed the man who now stood in front of him.

Potter was focused on her, no doubt, but his face was completely blank. He'd shown no signs of anger or frustration from the minute he'd stepped into the house to now. Even as he'd apologized for his behaviour the night before, and told Ginny this would be their last time together—insisting Voldemort had nothing to do with it—and that he'd have the club refer her to someone else, his tone remained unaffected. What would it take to get the impenetrable mask to slip? To get the walls to crumble?

He walked right out, past Voldemort, and toward the door. Voldemort grinned.

"I know you know better than that. I'm not done with you, Mr. Potter. Not by a long shot."

Potter spun to face him,

"I'm leaving."

Voldemort walked up to him, getting in his face. The man refused to take the bait,

"Yeah? You haven't asked my name. Why don't you tell me yours and I'll reciprocate?"

Cold eyes regarded him steadily,

"Harry Potter."

Voldemort bit down on his bottom lip, he murmured,

"Harry, what do your friends call you?"

"Are we friends?"

Voldemort winked,

"We're a lot of things. Getting to be more by the minute."

For a second there he thought Harry was going to roll his eyes, but he just said,

"Harry. My friends call me Harry."

Voldemort grabbed his arm and pulled him close, their chests touching.

"Harry, it's a pleasure. Really. I'm Lord Voldemort"

He dropped his gaze from Harry's expressionless face to his lips. They needed biting in the worst way. Voldemort whispered,

"I want your emotions. That control you keep a tight rein on, the power you work so hard to conceal. I want you to unleash it on me. All of it. And I want to watch your face when you do, when you let it all go. For me."

Harry stiffened against him, felt as if the other man had stopped breathing. Voldemort tightened his hold, not willing to risk letting Harry out of arm's length for an instant. Harry's voice was scratchy, full of static when he spoke next,

"You've got the wrong guy, if that's what you want."

Voldemort tilted his head back, meeting Harry's gaze.

"Yeah? You think so?"

"I know so."

Harry was gone, yanking out of Voldemort's hold effortlessly, opening the door and stepping outside. Voldemort raced after him. He spoke breathlessly

"You must want to put me in my place. Show me who's in charge."

Harry hurried to his car parked in Ginny's fenced-in driveway. He didn't look at Voldemort as he pulled out his keys,

"You've got the gun, you're in charge."

Voldemort grabbed his shoulder, turning him around and stalling Harry's movement.

"No. You. I want you. Your belt, my skin. Your hands. On me."

Harry yanked away,

"Don't touch me again."

Yes. Voldemort touched him again, sliding a palm down Harry's front. He didn't make it to his destination, because his toy grabbed his fist and spun him, shoving him into the car. Damn. He wasn't quick enough to smother the needy sound that fell from his lips. Harry's touch killed his usually lightning fast reflexes. He stood with his face pushed into one of the car's windows, both hands twisted behind his back and trapped in Harry's grip. His body liked it, especially his cock. He was already hard. He bowed his head, waiting, panting.

"Safe word?"

Voldemort hiccupped.

"Toffee."

"I'm going to release your hands. Don't move until I tell you."

Harry spoke, Unruffled. How the hell was he so fucking calm while his entire being rioted at Harry's presence, his touch, his voice?

Voldemort licked his lips. His blood buzzed, a loud racket in his ears. Ginny's property was protected from prying eyes by high fences, but he wanted to be seen. If Harry was going to lose control, lower his guards, people needed to witness the who and the why. Harry spoke,

"Unbutton your shirt. Then take it off and drop it to the ground."

In his mind, he completed the assigned task in two seconds flat. In reality, somehow, his fingers fumbled at the buttons and what he'd wanted to be a smooth undressing turned out to be an awkward spectacle. Finally, he pulled the shirt from his body and dropped it at his feet.

And he waited. Was Harry examining the dark mark tattooed there in all its vibrant colourful detail? Was he wondering what it meant? Did he want to know who Voldemort really was? He didn't hear movement, didn't hear sound. Nothing. His heart pounded and he clenched his fists. Damn. Just as he was about to turn around, the blow landed.

He shouted as his skin lit up on fire. His knees buckled and he grabbed on to the SUV, nails scraping against the smooth surface as he fought to remain standing.

Another blow fell. Another. Harry's belt on his skin. Voldemort smelt the leather. Intoxicating. The pain clogged his throat and watered his eyes and he heard himself, demanding more. Demanding Harry hit him harder, made him hurt, made him feel. Voldemort's body bowed under the force and Harry still hadn't made a sound. To be fair, if he had, it would likely be drowned out by his groans, by the blood rushing in his ears. His skin pulled tight, the hot pain smoothing out into a drowsy pleasure that made his erection throb along with each strike. Tandem. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, and centered himself on the pain in his back, on the strokes as they fell, sure and steady and so damn good.

What he needed. This was what he needed. What Harry provided, just this. He rose on tiptoe, palms flat on the side of the vehicle. The belt landed on the middle of his back. Voldemort arched with a sharp cry and the dam broke. He jerked and came. The force of his climax dropped him to the ground.

His skin burned. The scent of leather filled his nose and he curled up on the graveled driveway. The belt fell next to him.

"We're done."

Voldemort jerked his head up, blinking as Harry hopped into his vehicle.

"Harry."

His toy didn't hear him, or chose not to, because he drove off, leaving Voldemort on the ground.

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