The First Encounter
It becomes a nightly ritual, torturing himself sexually.
He knows without a doubt that he’s some messed up freak, but there’s nothing for it. It’s not like he can ask for help. No one believes him anyway.
Now that he realizes he can actually get off without… well, getting off, he finds his fantasies straying from the assault. Instead they focus on nameless men refusing to let him cum as they use him however they wish, and Harry’s all too happy to entertain these fantasies and leave that awful night behind (as much as possible, anyway).
Usually, he stops just before the point of no return, denying himself any release and testing his strength of mind. But when the lack of release becomes too much he ruins it entirely. He can hardly remember the last time he’s had a proper orgasm outside of waking up to sticky pants, but even then he usually sleeps through the orgasm so he doesn’t remember the experience quite as much.
Still, that seems to happen when he goes too long without any sort of orgasm and he’s starting to know his body better on how frequently he needs to actually let himself cum, even if he doesn’t allow it to feel good.
Things escalate fairly quickly though, once he’s back at school.
Returning to Hogwarts is brutal.
Harry wanted to confront Ron and Hermione on the train ride in and tell them the truth. In the past they’ve always been willing to listen to him, even when the adults wouldn’t. The fact that they had exiled him from the Weasley household though, speaks volumes. He’d spent weeks rehearsing his little speech, but when the day actually comes he finds himself frozen.
The fear of rejection paralyzes him to the point that he doesn’t even try.
Instead he gets there as early as his uncle is willing to drive him there and finds an empty compartment on the opposite side of the train than they normally sit at and hopes that no one will bother him.
In the end it doesn’t stop the conversation from happening, because his friends end up coming to him.
Hermione’s the one who slides open the compartment. She stands in the door way, glaring at him in anger. Ron stands next to, but behind her and the expression he wears is both apologetic and serious. It tells Harry that the outcome of their talk is likely not going to go the way he wishes it would.
It doesn’t, of course, because nothing in his life goes the way he hopes it will.
Hermione is beyond angry, going off about rape culture and how people like Harry are the reason women never see justice.
Ron at least asks why he did it, which is more than anyone else has done, but it’s still so frustrating that no one questions the news or officers that have stollen more from him than his rapist has.
Harry does end up stumbling out a brief version of his reality. He says that he hadn’t lied, the police hadn’t believed him. He tries to explain that his uncle told him he probably made it up and that they just ran with it, but Hermione doesn’t let him get another word out after that.
She’s furious at his lack of accountability and is on full attack mode now. It’s worse than her normal reproaches and it makes Harry feel more alone than ever.
He tells them he’ll leave them alone, but asks if they can at least keep all of this quiet.
That’s when Hermione stops talking finally and stares at him as if she doesn’t know him anymore, turns on her heels, and storms away.
“I’ll talk to her, mate.” Ron says, “About telling people… I think she’ll come around to that. But you know it really was a messed up thing you did, right?”
Harry just nods, his eyes watering as he avoids eye contact until Ron slides the door shut again, leaving him all alone.
Something about it seems final and Harry’s heart shatters in their wake.
The next two weeks are just as awful.
He almost wishes they’d antagonize him or something, because at least anger means they care at least a little... The cold indifference hurts him more than any fist ever could.
He avoids his common room and dorm as much as possible, roaming the halls well into the dead of night, hardly even caring if he gets in trouble. If anything, at least a detention would get him away from his common room, the place that used to feel like home. At least he wouldn’t have to be confronted by his friends moving on without him.
Feeling lonely at the Dursley’s was one thing. It was expected. It didn’t feel like rubbing salt in the wound. Being alone in front of the people who used to feel like family is a pain greater than he’s ever known. The ever present reminder is a slap in the face and he’ll do anything to avoid the sting.
It’s on one of these nightly strolls that he runs into a familiar face that he doesn’t particularly want to see either.
He can hear footsteps around the bend and he hurries into a near by classroom, shutting the door quietly behind him only to turn and see Draco Malfoy staring back at him.
His eyes narrow in suspicion and he opens his mouth, probably to throw some sort of insult at him, but Harry shushes him and points to the hallway.
They stand there for several awkward minutes until Malfoy decides the coast must be clear by now and opens his stupid mouth.
“So what are you doing out and about after hours, Scar Head?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Mmm… but my answer wouldn’t be nearly as interesting. Avoiding having to see your friends, are you? Or should I say ex-friends?”
“Sod off, Malfoy!” Harry snaps.
He opens the door to storm away, but Malfoy is behind him now, an arm reaching over his shoulder to firmly push it shut again.
Normally it would take much more than this to set him off, but with all the awful things that just continue to stack against him he’s got much less patience than usual. Instead he swings his elbow back to get a good shot at Malfoy’s ribs.
The other boy cries out at the pain and by the time Harry has turned around to face the oncoming attack Malfoy has already drawn and thrown a punch.
The two brawl for a while, but eventually Harry finds himself pinned to the ground with Malfoy on top of him, his own hard cock pressing into Malfoy’s soft one.
He should feel embarrassed, he thinks. He should feel ashamed to be in this position right now. Instead he finds himself stuck somewhere between fear and need.
The blonde’s eyes are wide and hesitant, almost like he knows he should pull away and be horrified, but is sort of curious too. He looks quite innocent, really and the sting of jealously sort of turns him on more.
Harry breathes in sharply and he swallows hard before deciding to test his theory. He thrusts his hips experimentally and Malfoy gasps. When he doesn’t otherwise respond, Harry continues to roll his hips until he feels Malfoy’s body start to respond above him.
But then he’s pulling off of Harry and looking down at him with disgust.
“What the fuck, Potter!?” He spits, “What the actual fuck!?”
Harry doesn’t respond verbally. He stands too and then glances down to Malfoy’s half hard dick and then smirks up at him and the Slytherin flushes and shoves Harry angrily against the wall and turns to flea.
“I can suck you off.” Harry says, internally wincing at how pathetically desperate he must seem.
Malfoy pauses and when he turns back towards Harry he looks angry, but he’s even harder now.
“Why would you ever think I wanted anything between us.”
“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage, Malfoy. I’m asking if I can suck your cock. I’m not even expecting anything in return.”
“Why the hell would you want to do that!?”
“Does it matter? Why do you care as long as you got a warm throat to fuck.”
It’s comical, the wide eyes that appear unable to comprehend the mere idea that his ears accurately heard Harry’s proposal. He blinks at Harry a few times, his mouth parted in surprise.
“You’re being serious?”
“Yeah. I want to blow you, Malfoy. Not sure why that’s so confusing.”
Ropes are suddenly wrapping around his wrists painfully, pulling his hands behind his back and a jolt of fear courses through him at being bound the same way he had been that night. He knows that he’s beyond repair when the fear goes straight to his cock and Harry hums, precum already starting to leak from him.
“On your knees then, Potter.”
Harry trips over himself in his haste and would have face planted if Malfoy hadn’t have caught him. This time he does turn red from embarrassment. Once he’s safety in position he looks up at Malfoy and opens his mouth wide.
“Are you really that desperate to have a cock down your throat? You don’t even care if I won’t let you touch yourself? Is the Golden Boy actually just a pathetic little whore?”
Harry groans quietly, wanting to say that he was, but apparently he still has some sense of pride because he can’t bring himself to.
“Fuck, are we really going to do this?” He mumbles.
The question feels rhetorical, so Harry just stares up at him and waits, his own heart hammering in his chest.
“I’m holding you to that, Potter. I’m not reciprocating this.”
Harry nods eagerly and it’s a beat later that Malfoy starts to work his trousers open. It’s not until he’s face to face with the head of Malfoy’s dick that he starts asking himself what the fuck he was doing.
He doesn’t even know how to give a blow job.
He must like sabotaging himself or something, because now his dirty little secret can become public. Who knows if Malfoy would tell the whole school about how he’d practically begged Malfoy to let him suck him off and not return the favor.
The shame of it all is 1000 fold and it’s a much bigger high than doing this alone in his room, even if he’s not actively being stimulated.
“Well?” Malfoy asks, and Harry realizes that he actually has to do the work himself.
The man just took from him and he forgot that normal people actually participate.
With a deep breath be brings his mouth forward, tongue out to taste experimentally, but Malfoy shifts his hips backwards and Harry strains his neck to follow, a cruel laugh reaching his ears and he stops when he realizes how this must look through Malfoy’s eyes.
He looks up at the other boy and his lids are heavy with lust as he smirks down at him.
“Go on then.” He says.
Harry’s cock strains in his pants desperately wishing to be touched as Harry inches forwards on his knees so he can reach Malfoy better and this time when he extends his tongue towards him Malfoy stays rooted in place.
A small lick along his slit already has Malfoy moaning and Harry feels a sense of pride for making him sound that way when he hasn’t even gotten started yet.
It’s enough to bolster his confidence and he’s lapping around the head now, lowering his neck to lick along the underside of his shaft. Without the use of his hands the task is messier than he thinks it would have been and his cock slides along Harry’s face leaving a wet trail behind it.
Malfoy‘s breathing has picked up and his taste is earthy. He smells like desire to Harry and he’s ridiculously turned on by this. He already regrets not demanding that he be allowed to touch himself.
“A-ahh! Merlin!” Malfoy says, “Fucking suck me already!”
So he does. He licks back up Malfoy’s cock and then circles his lips around his head, slowly taking more of him in. He moans to Malfoy’s sounds, which only seems to make the other boy louder and Harry wonders what it would feel like to have someone moan with your cock in their mouth. He bets that would feel really good.
It’s sort of uncomfortable, having your mouth stuffed with someone’s cock, but in a way that also makes him feel complete. Malfoy is smaller than he was. Even though Harry hadn’t been forced to do this to him, he can still tell. But he’s certainly well endowed for a teenager. He’s a lot bigger than Harry’s average size and his jaw is starting to ache from this.
His boxers are damp now from his own abandoned shaft while he sets to worshiping Malfoy’s.
He starts slow trying to get a feel for it, but it doesn’t take him long before he’s bobbing on him as fast as he can. It’d be easier if he could use his hands for purchase, but Harry is eager to make him feel good and he doubles down on his efforts trying so hard to do a good job for him and he’s rewarding by Malfoy’s musical notes as he expresses his own pleasure. The dirty sounds of Harry slurping as he pulls up and the gasps for breath before taking Malfoy in again just add to the chorus.
Harry pumps his hips erratically, trying to get even a minimal amount of friction from his pants and Malfoy is laughing again, though it quickly turns into another moan.
“You’re so hot for this. You like servicing cock, you filthy little slut.”
A muffled sound escapes Harry’s mouth sending more vibrations through Malfoy’s cock and his hips thrust deeper down his throat, making him gag and Harry learns that he absolutely adores the feeling of chocking on dick.
“Sorry.” He mutters, stilling himself and Harry can’t help it.
He pulls off and his voice sounds raw when he says, “Do that again, Malfoy, please! Do that as much as you want.”
Malfoy growls and he grabs the back of his head, holding Harry still as he fucks into him. He’s cautious at first, but when Harry doesn’t try to push him away or stop him he seems to lose himself in his hunt for pleasure, humping his face faster as if Harry was just a means to and end and not a person at all.
“Gryffindor Golden Boy- reduced to being a pathetic cock whore. Is this why your friends stopped talking to you?”
Something about stings deep in his soul and it rings far too close to home, even if his friends didn’t realize that that was exactly what had happened. Harry can feel his own cock twitching, his pelvic floor contracting from the force of nothing but how good it feels to drown in his own shame and to be owned like this. He’s horrified to find himself having to hold back his own release as he relishes how raw his throat feels from being used like this.
It’s not much long after that that Malfoy’s hips stop deep inside him and he roars as his pleasure takes over him.
“Ah! Haaah! Fuck!” He says, leaning his weight on Harry as his hands caress softly through his hair. Harry shudders at the kind touch and once again has clamp down on his own orgasm while he waits for Malfoy to let up.
He takes longer than he should and Harry’s starting to panic slightly from lack of oxygen and starts wiggling against him in panic.
It’s enough to get Malfoy to pull out and Harry gasps for air. He notices a string of saliva still connecting them. He’s not sure why that feels so dirty, but it does.
“Sorry…” Malfoy says again, “Are you-er… Are you okay?”
Harry looks up at him and grins, feeling better than he’s felt in ages and the look of guilt slides off of Malfoy’s face. He seems relieved now and it makes Harry frown a bit, because he didn’t offer to do this to him of all people because he thought he’d care at all about what Harry wanted.
Something shifts in Malfoy suddenly and a look of panic takes over him. He hurriedly buttons his pants and waves his wand, allowing Harry’s arms to fall free before he’s fleeing from the room without a word.
Now that he’s alone the silence buzzes loudly in his ears and he feels empty and riddled with guilt as he takes himself out of his pants.
Harry brings his hand to the base of his cock, wrapping his fingers around himself and makes the most lewd sound as the dopamine rushes through him at the smallest touch. He already knows that this is going to be over pathetically quickly. He slides his hand up once and removes it, already cumming, his thighs shaking terribly, body twisting upwards desperately searching for sensation it wouldn’t find because there’s nothing there.
The need to feel his release is so unbelievably strong, but he holds himself back, continuing to hump the air, moaning in disappointment and feeling twice as turned on as before but physically unable to get off again.
He falls backwards against the cold tiles panting heavily, his brain feeling fuzzy and body wired with need and his laugh sounds manic at how happy and floaty he feels right now. Maybe he’ll regret this later, but for now Harry couldn’t be more glad that he took the risk to proposition Malfoy tonight.