My view on CW's for this chapter: Non-Con Elements, Possessiveness, Explicit Sexual Content, Minor Discription of Blood

Sum: Harry is eighteen now, and though he hasn't expressed wanting to leave, Tom has a plan to stop that idea from ever forming.

"Little Rabbit!" Tom calls out, pouring Harry a bowl of soup. "Dinner is ready!"

"Coming!" Harry yelled, bounding from their bedroom, a smile on his face. "Thanks, Tom!"

"You're welcome, Little Rabbit." Harry sat down, and Tom leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Over the years, Tom had convinced Little Rabbit to grow his hair out. It looked good on him, the soft black waves cascading down his neck and shoulders. It seemed to make his eyes glow brighter, but perhaps that was Tom's imagination.

Tom smirked, turning away. Tom had a great imagination.

"Hey, Tom?" Harry asked, seated at the table. He ate his soup happily, grinning as he tasted the chicken, completely unaware of what the broth was made from. Sometimes it got hard, having to skin the rabbits while Harry was asleep, but a little sleeping potion in his food, a few banishing charms, and a shower later, and Harry was as oblivious as always.

Tom scowled slightly. It was far too easy to slip potions into Harry's food. Part of him almost preferred his Little Rabbits distrustful tween years. It would make him prepared for the real world. Tom relaxed. But Little Rabbit wasn't going out in the real world, oh no. He was staying here, in their cabin, with Tom.

"Tooom?" Harry called again, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Little Rabbit, I'm alright. What do you need?"

"You weren't sitting with me," Harry pointed out. "I was just curious as to why."

"Sorry, dearheart," Tom took a seat, relishing a bit. Harry had grown a lot. Though he wasn't as tall as Tom, Little Rabbit didn't have to look up to meet his eyes anymore. Tom disliked that.

Maybe he could…

No, no, definitely not that. Tom wasn't that evil of a man. Perhaps he could make Harry shorter in…other ways. Yes, that would fit the boy very nicely. Tom looked Harry over. He wasn't really a boy anymore, was he? Harry had grown into a fine young man. Too fine. If Harry ever thought he'd ever escape Tom, he wouldn't now.

"How does it feel, darling? Being an adult now, and all."

"I don't know, honestly. Feels kinda the same."

"Kind of, darling."

"Right, kind of." Harry took a few more sips of his soup, and Tom smiled. "I still feel kind of the same, I guess. I just feel like Harry. Just Harry."

"Just Harry?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow. His Little Rabbit was anything other than 'just Harry'. His Little Rabbit was perfection itself. From how the boy looked at Tom so reverently, to how he smiled and hummed little toons he made up as they did the dishes.

"Yeah, I mean, nothings really changed now that I'm eighteen, right?"

Wrong again, Little Rabbit, Tom thought to himself. Completely and utterly wrong, but that's alright. Tom slid his hand over Harry's smiling softly. I'll show you how wrong you are.

"What?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"I'm just so glad you enjoy my cooking, darling."

"It's good! I really like it! Thank you, Tom." Harry smiled back at him, and Tom wanted nothing more then to see those lips-

No! Not yet, not now. Harry wasn't…accustomed to the idea yet. Tom needed to take his time, prep Harry just right. Masterpieces took time, after all.

"How about we do something today, Little Rabbit? For your birthday and all."

"Wait, really?" Harry asked, placing his bowl on the table. "Like, actually?"

"You've been so good these past few years, Harry," Tom practically purred. "I feel…guilty for not rewarding such good behaviour. You'll let me reward you, right?"

"Yeah!" Harry bubbled with excitement. "I mean, yes! Please! I'd love to!"

Harry was also so cute when he smiled. Tom nodded at their shared bedroom, gesturing for Harry to go get changed. The teen ran off, still smiling. Tom stared after him, a cruel grin graced itself upon Tom's face.

After a few moments, Little Rabbit was out of his loungewear and in a pair of Tom's old muggle jeans and a hoodie. Perfect for their cold little cabin.

"Harry, it's summertime, you'll need something other than a hoodie."

"But all I have are your shirts…" Harry looked at the ground, blushing. If he weren't so naive, he'd see right through Tom's year-long plans. There was a reason Harry got Tom's 'hand-me-downs'.

"That's fine, darling. Go grab one." When Harry came back, wearing all of Tom's clothes, the man felt complete. "We'll be travelling my magic, Little Rabbit."

"I figured," Harry said with a shrug. Over the years he had grown used to the idea of Tom having magic, and even asked to see it from time to time. Tom had said that he was special, just like Harry was, and that only Tom had magic. Harry was too naive to know a lie when he heard one. "I just hold on, right?"

"Yes, darling. Just grab on." Harry did so, and with a whirl the pair apparated out of the house. And if Tom's hand had moved down to grope Harry's ass in the process, well, his Little Rabbit hadn't pointed it out.

They landed in an alleyway, far away from the watching muggle eyes. They were all alone, just then. They were all alone at the cabin too, but something about being alone while in public…enticed Tom. Harry gasped for air, clutching his stomach as he leaned against the wall.

If Tom were a muggle, he'd have done wicked things to Harry just then. His pretty green eyes filled with painful tears, his long hair tousled against the brick, hell, the way his pale skin shone with sweat. He was a delectable dessert Tom couldn't wait to devour.

"Where would you like to go, darling?" Tom whispered in his ear. Harry looked out of the alleyway, his breathing slowly beginning to even itself out.

"Anywhere, you pick." Harry said, and not protesting as Tom's large hand fell on Harry's nape, pushing them out of the alleyway and into the throws of people. "I'm not picky, honest!"

"The bookstore, then? Perhaps let you pick out your own novels this time?"

"Really? I mean, yeah! Thank you, Tom!"

The pair made their way down the streets twisting and turning and avoiding as many people as they could. A few women, and even a few men, stared at the pair, making Tom scowl. Harry was far too beautiful for his own good, that's why Tom always left him at home. Even as a child, the women would coo and coddle what was rightfully his.

Heading inside the small shop, he saw Harry pause. Leaning against a bookshelf were two men, their arms wrapped around each other. They didn't even look up when the bell jingled, lost in each other's eyes.

"Tom…?" Harry whispered. Tom grinned.

"Yes, darling?"

"What are they doing?" Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from the two men. Slowly, the two strangers leaned into each other, lips pressing together. Harry gasped.

"I believe they are kissing, Little Rabbit," Tom whispered in his ear. "Like lovers do."

Harry didn't say anything else, simply making his way to the other side of the shop. He managed to distract himself with a few books, but when they went to pay, Harry found himself staring at the strangers again. He watched as the larger of the two slipped his hand slowly down his lover's side. It dipped lower, until the hand grasped the others behind. The shorter man gasped.

Harry tore his gaze away, cheeks bright red. Tom couldn't help but chuckle. When they made it out of the store, Harry's cheeks still aflame, Tom couldn't help the possessive smile that marred his handsome face. Harry was the cutest thing in the world. He hadn't even noticed who those two people were!

Tom flicked his fingers, and the illusion of the two men vanished.

They made it back home, the sun beginning to set when the apparatted. Harry said nothing, not even grabbing one of the lemon bars Tom had made for dessert. Instead, he went to their shared bedroom, flopping onto the bed. He was still dressed in Tom's clothes, but the teen didn't seem to care!

Tom decided to give him some room to decompress. He cleaned the dishes, the living room, and even put away the books they had bought. After a few minutes of staring at the clean house, Tom headed to their bedroom, closing the door behind him. It was dark, but he could still make out the outline of his Little Rabbit.

Slipping off his shirt, Tom slipped into bed. Harry's breathing wasn't even, signalling he was still awake. Good, that's what Tom wanted.

"Are you alright, Little Rabbit?" Tom said, the bed dipping with his weight. "You seem stressed. My, you're still dressed."

"'M fine," Harry muttered. Tom smiled cruelly, wrapping his arms around Harry like he did every night. This time though, it was different.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Harry. What's wrong?"

Harry stayed quiet for a few moments, and just as Tom was going to ask again, he spoke up.

"They were kissing."

"Who was, darling?" Tom prompted, already knowing the answer. He just preferred when his Harry spelled it out for him.

"Those two men…at the bookstore. They were kissing."

"Yes, they were. People do that."

"But they were both men."

"That's right, Harry." Tom slipped his hand under Harry's shirt, marvelling at the feeling of warm skin against his hand. "A man can kiss another man."

Harry gasped softly, and from the sound alone, Tom knew he wasn't going to stop.

"Sometimes, Little Rabbit, they touch each other like this." His hand slid deeper up Harry's stomach, his fingers tracing every contour and every dip of his flesh. "Or sometimes, they do this."

His hand moved quickly, cupping Harry's chest, making the younger man gasp again. He toyed with the barely-there flesh, gently massaging it with his hands. Slowly, his fingers slowly grabbed the hardening nipple, eliciting another surprised gasp out of his Harry.

"Do you like that, Little Rabbit?" When Harry didn't say anything, he pinched harder. "Harry, answer me."

"Y-yes." Harry moaned softly. Tom couldn't tell if he was lying, and right now, Tom didn't care. "T-Tom…"

Tom growled, deep in his throat, his head leaning into Harry's neck. He lapped at the skin, before his teeth sunk in, making Harry yelp.

"Say it again, Harry," Tom's voice was deep, his hold on Harry firm. "Say my name, just like that."

"Tom," Harry gasped. It half sounded like a sob. Tom licked at the skin on Harry's neck, finding where he bit down previously and sucking at his skin. Little Rabbit tasted much better than the soup they had been eating. His name, one he hated for so long, sounded great when his Little Rabbit said it just like that.

Tom's hand toyed with the button on Harry's pants, not caring about finesse or sexiness. He was filled with a need to pleasure his Little Rabbit, to make Harry feel what he had been feeling for years now.

"Tom," Harry gasped out again breathlessly, his back arching as Tom shoved his hand roughly into his underwear. "N-No! That's my-"

"That's right, Harry. When two men love each other, this is what they do… and you love me, don't you?" His hand roughly grabbed Harry's cock, jerked upwards. The action pulled a strangled moan out of Harry as well. "Say you love me."

"I-i…"

"Say. It."

"I love you, Tom." Harry sniffled, and Tom knew instantly that Harry was crying. Good, Tom thought. Harry looks much better when he was crying. Shame I can't see him.

"Good boy," Tom groaned into Harry's thin neck, his hand jerking roughly. It didn't matter what any of them said, from the firmness of Harry's cock, he knew part of him enjoyed it.

"T-Tom! Something is…!"

"Good, that's good!" Tom rasped out, his hips jerking. "Relax, let it happen, give in to it, Little Rabbit."

"I-I!"

"Say my name as you come for me, Harry." Tom bit down hard, the taste of something metal filling his mouth. Perhaps he should have been eating Little Rabbit for dinner…

"Tom!" Harry called out, his hips giving a sudden jerk, moving up before slamming into Tom's own. He felt as Harry writhed against him, and he knew he wasn't far behind himself. "Tom, I can't!"

"Come, Harry. Just for me."

"Tom!"

Tom came in his pants the moment he felt Harry's own release cover his hand. The sounds Harry made were nothing short of breathtaking, and Tom loved every minute of it.

Not even bothering to clean his hand, or his pants, Tom grasped Harry's hips, pulling him closer. His hand drew hearts on Harry's stomach with his own come, and he smiled, content.

There was no way he was ever letting Harry leave now.