Author's Note: This is probably one of my most mature chapters so far. Until now, I was only dropping hints. Now, however, there's the starting of smut and more details of the abuse. Read on. Please review. This is my first-time writing fanfiction of this sort. Yes, it's cliched. But isn't most fanfiction?
Draco
The shirt sailed over his head and Harry paid no heed. His head was bowed downward in a submissive pose. My cock stirred with pleasure and Harry's hands were drawn to it like a magnet. His hands were gentle as a feather's touch, as he touched the most sensitive part of my body. I gasped and arched my back as his hands sped up. It seemed Harry was more experienced than I had previously imagined. Although I was highly pleased by this turn of events, I wished to gaze upon Harry's face as I came. His head was still bowed, so I tilted it up to look into his eyes.
Something felt wrong about my fantasy. As my eyes travelled over his exquisite body, I noticed his body trembling slightly. His face was like a marble statue, perfect yet cold. My pleasure was slipping away, like water through my fingers. My raging hard-on was dutifully ignored as I shook Harry's shoulders. As my pleasure faded and I went limp, Harry's face changed to an expression of panic. His breathing became shallow, he looked like a fawn waiting for the lion to pounce.
Harry
I could feel his arousal on a steep decline. I anticipated the eruption of Mount Vernon. I flinched, as Uncle Vernon punched my gut. I prayed with all the strength in me, that my uncle hadn't noticed my foolish blunder. I shouldn't have flinched, shouldn't have shown any weakness. But it was too late. I could see it in Vernon's eyes, he wanted lust from me, not fear. Not when he was in this mood. I had to avoid more pain. It was my only goal in life, to avoid more pain. I followed my instincts through a haze of terror.
My instincts had failed me. When Vernon was in a rage, calling him Uncle and begging would appease him. But when he was filled with lust, he would be pleased only by hearing 'Master' from my lips. I frantically searched his eyes for a remedy to this disaster, but I could find none. I could see it in his eyes, disappointment. I shivered in terror. This would make things much worse for me. Instead of the fiery rage that usually filled him, an icy fury transformed him. He would be sharp and precise with his torture when he was disappointed. He would aim to hit where it hurt the most. This rare emotion would lend him the strength and patience to break me.