A Shift In The Dynamic
The thing is, Harry really loves denying himself- and more recently, letting Malfoy use him- until he doesn’t.
The cycle started when it was just him and his hand back at the Dursley’s, but if Malfoy were to want another blowjob then he knows that it will continue with him.
He’s not sure where the vicious cycle starts. It’s sort of a chicken and egg thing… but it goes from hopeless yearning until he finally gives in to sexual desire, to endless shame and self-hatred that he loves to feel at the time of pleasure, but hates with a passion afterwards. And then the need to feel something other than despair comes back and the whole thing repeats.
Harry hates that he’s like this. He hates why he is like this. He wishes he could just be normal.
Sometimes late at night, drowning in misery, he finds himself drenched in white hot anger that eats him up inside like a hungry parasite who cares naught for anything but sweet revenge.
He imagines what he would do that guy if he ever had the chance. He imagines what he’d say to his uncle or that arse whole detective or that stupid talk show host and everyone else who’s ever wronged him. Sometimes he even is angry enough at Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore for abandoning him when he needed them the most and he even imagines revenge against them, though for them it looks less like violence and more like telling them everything that happened and eating up the look of guilt on their faces when they realize how much they’ve hurt him.
When he’s thinking clearly he knows it’s not their fault. Why would they ever suspect that the police would be wrong about something like this. But emotions aren’t rational and they don’t escape the fantasies of vengeance any more than the others.
On occasion he even pretends he’s taking it out on himself, because of how he allowed it all to happen, taking a knife to his wrist and finally being brave enough to end it all.
He’s done this all month long and now that he’s gotten to the point where he’s consensually pleased another person, initiated it even, he hates himself and all the rest even more.
He can’t believe that just hours ago Malfoy had ran out of the room and Harry had been blissed out and feeling so very good, when now it’s 2 in the morning and he can’t stand who he’s become.
By the time he finally falls asleep he doesn’t stay that way long, before he wakes to nightmares of the man who has destroyed him to his very core. He thinks the image of his face will be seared into his mind forever and he can’t imagine a life where he’d ever get relief from what happened.
He’s dead tired, but it’s double herbology. It’s a few days after the ‘Malfoy incident’ and they’ve been instructed to work in pairs and Neville has graciously offered to team up with him, even though Harry is completely useless and is not actually helping at all.
Hermione laughs loudly at something Ron has said and Harry, who has been doing his very best to avoid looking at them, feels a stab deep in his gut at yet another reminder of the fact that he’s lost the two people he cares about more than anyone.
Neville doesn’t seem to mind much that Harry is slumped over on the desk doing nothing. He does all the work for them and is yammering on about various plants and how to take care of them and when Harry simply hums in response and is clearly not paying attention he finally trails off and looks at him.
“You look terrible, Harry… but look, actually listen to me for a second.”
Harry winces, feeling guilty for being such a shite friend to one of the few he actually has left. He manages to drag his tired body up so that he’s sitting properly now.
“Sorry, I’m just… it’s been a bit rough lately.”
“I know… and I don’t know or care what’s going on between you and Ron and Hermione. I’m not getting in the middle of it. You’re all my friends and it’s staying that way so don’t expect me to take sides.”
“I wouldn’t.” Harry promises.
He genuinely means it and really appreciates Neville for that. It also tells him that Ron had gotten through to Hermione and they hadn’t been spreading the word that Harry ‘lied about being raped’.
He breathes a sigh of relief and smiles up at Neville, who seems proud of saying the right thing and getting Harry temporarily out of his funk.
“Neville… why are we handling lemon balm and lavender?”
Neville laughs, “Man, you really have been out of it. We’re looking into non-magical plants that actually have a lot of uses for potions. But see, you’re better at herbology than you thought.”
“I’m just well acquainted with common household herbs.” Harry snorts, thinking of all the years spent in Aunt Petunia’s green house.
The neutral mood doesn’t last, of course and Harry’s once again roaming the halls with his only destination being anywhere but the Gryffindor Tower, when he’s suddenly accosted. He’s grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall and he grunts at the force, preparing to fight off whoever was attacking him.
Once he realizes that it’s Malfoy his struggles stop, though it does nothing to slow his pounding heart. Instead it just shifts from fear to desire.
After days of Malfoy avoiding him, he seems to have had a sudden change in heart.
“I’m not gay.” He says, looking into Harry’s eyes determinedly.
“Sure, yeah… okay.” Harry breathes, not actually caring one wit if he’s gay or not when he’s pinning him into the wall like this, his rock solid dick stirring against Harry’s.
“Okay. Yeah, good… Now that that’s cleared up, shut up and suck my cock, Potter.”
Harry laughs, thinking that Malfoy clearly has some of his own issues to work through, before he realizes that Malfoy is serious. He wants him to get down on his knees right now.
“Here!?”
“Obviously.”
“I’m not going to give you a blowjob in the middle of the corridor!”
“You’ll do what I fucking say.”
Harry moans, the thought of doing something so shameless and potentially getting caught has him already getting hard and Malfoy’s fingers that squeeze tightly against his wrists become even more painful.
And Harry hums. Malfoy releases his wrists and he lets his arms fall from above his head to his sides.
Malfoy starts pressing down on his shoulders as if to guide him to the floor and Harry follows his lead, wondering if Malfoy likes punishing himself too. For someone who’s clearly not okay with his sexuality or perhaps just confused and unsure, he’s certainly putting himself in a risky situation.
This time he’s fucking into his throat instantly and doesn’t even give Harry a chance to do any of the work himself.
“Bet you’d get off on being found like this, chocking on my cock. Probably even start wanking then, wouldn’t you?”
The thought of it alone has Harry reaching into his own pants and Malfoy moans, rutting against him faster, his balls slapping against his chin.
“You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” Malfoy says.
Harry whimpers, but moves his hands back to his sides, the command just making him more needy. He has to clench them into fists to prevent himself from reaching out again.
He’s not entirely sure why he listens to him, but he loves being told what to do or having him take what he wants from him.
In the end it doesn’t take long before Harry can see to his own needs. Malfoy flushes at how quickly it’s all over, but he doesn’t let it show in his facial expression. He remains stoic as ever, and still manages to find other things to make fun of Harry for.
Once he’s gone Harry practically runs to the nearest bathroom, barely shutting the stall before he’s unzipping his own pants and stopping just before the good part, moaning with need, but unwilling to allow himself to have it.
Harry find himself at Malfoy’s knees the next night and the night after that, and several more times in the following week and now he can’t imagine a life without it. Truly, it’s the only thing that gets him by most days, salivating over what will be happening later that evening. He hardly even has much time to feel bad about it, because the turn over rate has become pretty quick and it’s not long before he’s back in the yearning phase, jacking off to to the thought of Malfoy’s cock.
“I don’t get it. What’s in this for you?”
“I thought Slytherins were supposed to just take advantage of things that are to their benefit. Why the fuck do you care what I get out of it?”
For the first time they’re doing this during the day, having snuck off to the Quidditch Locker room which is as empty as expected, what with it being the off season.
Malfoy is sitting on a wooden bench, but somehow manages to looked poised and smug and as care free as ever. He looks on as Harry strips, as per Malfoy’s previous orders.
Harry’s face is red and he’s riddled with embarrassment, for it’s the first time Malfoy has ever actually asked him to take his clothes off. He’s the second person who’s ever seen him naked like this and for some reason he cares what Malfoy thinks about his appearance.
He worries about how big he is, how scrawny he is, if he’ll ask about the various scars that Harry doesn’t really feel like explaining to anyone.
All of it leaves him hard, the thought of being watched and ridiculed and vulnerable in a way that Malfoy clearly has no intent of doing himself. No, he was going to use Harry’s mouth fully clothed and demand Harry demean himself for his pleasure, just how Harry likes it.
Malfoy snorts, “Caring is a strong word. I’m genuinely just curious what one would get from such a one sided arrangement.”
“Look… This thing.” Harry starts, gesturing between the two of them, “It’s not about emotions or personal shite. This is purely sexual, so don’t ask me dumb questions anymore.”
“Sexual? For everyone except for you, I suppose…” Malfoy laughs. “Well, get to it then.”
He’s scanning Harry’s body with his eyes and he doesn’t look disappointed. If anything, he’s starting to lose that arrogant indifference and the desire is clear on his face.
He doesn’t get up from the bench and instead motions with four fingers to come towards him. He doesn’t have to bother telling him to kneel. Harry knows his place.
Malfoy widens his stance to make room for him and Harry crawls between his legs, placing his hands on his thighs when he leans down to get to work.
It’s the first time in a while that Malfoy isn’t taking the lead, but he’s just as verbally expressive as ever as Harry takes him in deep.
Harry likes that. Malfoy isn’t the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, but when Harry is doing this to him he’s so very open about how it makes him feel. It makes Harry feel like he has some sort of purpose.
He hasn’t really had much of a chance to hone his skill, so he explores options to see what sort of sounds he can get out of the other boy. He switches up the tempo, bobs up and down while his hands massage the base, focuses on his head while he pulls lightly at his scrotum, takes him in completely and grinds his face until he can’t breathe and keeps doing it for a few more moments until he can’t stand the lack of oxygen for a second more.
Malfoy seems to love it all and Harry wonders if it’s the variety that always keeps him unsure of what will come next.
As always, he’s hard and leaking, but this time he can’t hide much from Malfoy. At one point he brings his hand down to tease at his slit for a moment and Harry keens around his cock, causing Malfoy to also make delicious sounds.
He pulls his hand away though and laughs, “you’re actually soaked just from this… Christ, Potter…”
It’s clearly an insult, even if it was a tame one and Harry almost wishes he’d been more degrading.
But then suddenly a firm pressure is on his cock and he’s gasping and moaning so much that he actually chokes and has to pull off to clear his throat from the saliva he inhaled.
He looks down and realizes that it’s Malfoy’s shoe pressed against his throbbing member and for a moment he leans back, his arms holding his weight as he moans, thrusting into it.
He feels naughty. He feels dirty. He feels pathetic. He feels more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.
Malfoy moans too and Harry can hear him stroke himself and he looks up at him, watching Malfoy watch Harry debase himself and the Slytherin looks like he himself has never been more turned on before either.
His heart soars, as it always does when he realizes that Malfoy doesn’t just like to get off, but he seems to like seeing Harry be the one to do it to him. He knows that he’s kidding himself, who would ever want someone as disgusting as he was? But still, it’s a nice thought and he allows himself to dwell in it for a moment while they stare into each others eyes, both moaning with need.
It doesn’t take long at all before Harry’s shouting in pleasure and so very close to that he has to push Malfoy’s foot away and panting with how close to orgasm he was. He’s whining and whimpering with need and Malfoy is making quiet little sounds of desperation himself.
“‘M not… not going to touch it, Potter. If you want to get off it’s going to be by my boot.”
Shame is all he knows as he realizes that he’s either got to cum or make his fucked up kink known, and Harry has been so proud how long he’s gone without a true orgasm and he can’t bare the thought of ruining his streak now just for Malfoy’s sake.
“I’m fine.” Harry breathes, starting to come down enough to gather his wits.
Malfoy is looking at him in confusion and even stills his hand as he looks down at him.
“You… don’t want to get off? Seriously?”
“Not yet.” Harry says, and gets back into position.
“Wha-“
But then Harry’s going to town on his cock, eager to distract him from it all and it seems to work because Malfoy is making needy sounds and wailing from his own pleasure and he uses his hand to push his head down faster and faster until he finally cums, and Harry loves that he didn’t cum down his throat for once and could actually taste his earthy seed on his tongue.
He swallows it all down and then laps at his head, milking him through his release.
“Fuck.” Malfoy says after a few minutes, looking at his watch, “I’m late.”
Harry’s glad for it, because at least he doesn’t have to explain.
Once he’s sure that Malfoy is gone he leans on a near by locker and starts fisting himself remembering how good, how terrible it felt to be thrusting against Malfoy’s shoe, of all things. It was so dirty and it made him feel so small and God it was the hottest thing he’s ever done.
It all feels so good he can’t quite make himself stop in time to deny himself all together, so instead he ruins it, sounding absolutely wonton to his own ears.
“Bloody hell… What the hell was that!?”
Harry’s stomach lurches when he hears Malfoy’s voice and he’s bright red and hating himself more than ever. His eyes squeeze shut against the reality, even as he continues to snap his hips against nothing, still whimpering with need and wishing he could sink into the floor until he became a part of it, never to be seen again.
“Sweet Merlin!” Malfoy continues, “is that what- you didn’t even- what the fuck!?”
“Get the fuck out, Malfoy!” Harry snaps, closing his legs and trying to cover himself the best he can.
“I, uh… Forgot my bag… Do you always do this? Wait until I leave and then… not let it feel good!?”
“Oh, God!” Harry moans, covering his face with his hands.
He feels sick with shame and he wishes the other boy would just fucking leave already.
“Potter…” He says quietly, and surprisingly his voice doesn’t hold malice. It’s almost soft, like he wants to ease Harry’s suffering.
But Harry’s not an idiot. Malfoy hates him and growing up with the Dursley’s has taught him that sometimes people act kind just so they can hurt you better later.
“I just never really heard of that before… What’s it like?”
“Why do you care!?” Harry asks.
“That question is getting boring. You should switch it up some.”
“Can you just leave!?” Harry shouts, standing up to grab his pants and shove his legs through so he can feel less vulnerable.
“Come on… if we’re going to keep doing this I should at least know what you like or don’t like. If you don’t want to actually get off I should probably be aware that I should stop before you do.”
Harry supposes he’s got a point. It was only a matter of time before the truth came out, wasn’t it? He may as well just get it out of the way now… that is if Malfoy wants anything to do with him when he finds out how much of a freak he is.
“I just… I just like to do this. Either this or not cum at all and tease myself until I’m just about to, but then stop.”
“Merlin… something about that is so fucking hot.” Malfoy growls, and then he’s pushing Harry against the locker, hard again already and Harry’s eyes widen in surprise.
Malfoy’s hands come to his sides, rubbing his hands over him passionately as sucks at his neck, lapping at it, nipping him, kissing it and something about this moment feels like a marker that will completely change what they’ve been doing here and how they’ve been doing it.
Harry’s moaning at the touches that aren’t kind exactly, but aren’t mean either. No, they’re desperate touches filled with a fiery heat and Harry feels blood rushing south once again.
“I like hearing you moan.” Malfoy whispers into his ear, making him shiver.
They both have pants on now and they’re both hard once again and Malfoy is rutting against him, their cocks stimulating each other in a way that makes Harry heat up all over. His chest feels warm at hearing Malfoy say that he likes the sounds he makes and something about this feels so much different than Harry’s ever experienced. He already loves it and he has no idea what’s going to come next.
“I like watching you hump my shoe. And I love how beautiful you look when you’re ruining your own orgasm, fuck!”
And then his hands are at Harry’s waist and he’s unbuttoning his pants, lowering them just enough for his dick to spring free. He does the same to himself and this time when he thrusts against Harry he can feel Draco’s wetness on him.
Somehow this feels much more intimate than anything he’s ever done before. The fear is different than the fear of someone using him selfishly. This almost feels more equal in a way and that terrifies Harry in different completely unsexy way.
But just like always, his body doesn’t seem to care and he’s grabbing Draco’s waist and moving to meet his thrusts and they’re both groaning.
Harry has clearly taking on more of a passive role during this whole thing, but he has a sudden longing to feel Malfoy’s bare chest against his own and before he can think better of it his hands sneak under the hem of his shirt and the feel of Malfoy’s muscles under his hands makes him makes him light up in ways he’s never felt.
“Oh, yes!” Malfoy moans into his shoulder and as Harry starts to lift his shirt he pulls back and helps him tug it off.
“Ahh!” Harry cries when their chests collide and it feels so good.
His hands come behind to explore his back, his shoulders and Malfoy is snapping his hips faster now.
The sensation in his groin grows and he nearly dies when Malfoy brings a hand down and starts to jerk them both off simultaneously as they continue to fuck against each other.
“Malfoy!” Harry cries, his fingers digging into his back as his cock twitches.
His heart is pounding and Malfoy is groaning and Harry is amazed at how good he feels. He’s lost in throws of sensation and for once he doesn’t even remember to be ashamed. He just feels pleasure, real and raw and-
And he’s going to fucking cum any second.
“Wait!” Harry cries, “Oh, God, stop!”
Malfoy does, and he nearly sobs because he.. he listened to him when he said no… but Harry can’t quite get his own body to listen. He keeps rutting into Malfoy, but Malfoy steps away from him and is fisting himself again as Harry wails at the lack of release.
“O…oh! Fuck, Potter. Nngh!” Malfoy moans, “You look so fucking desperate. Such a good boy, Potter. Realizing your sole purpose should be to please others and not to seek your own pleasure.”
Harry shudders. Being called a good boy does things to him that he doesn’t quite understand and honestly he loves hearing Malfoy talk to him like this. He pulls Malfoy closer once again and starts jerking him off and Malfoy leans his forehead into Harry’s chest, gasping as Harry finishes him once again.
They stand like that for a moment, wrapped up in each others arms while Malfoy recovers and then there’s a shift and Malfoy’s entire body seems to stiffen.
“I’m late.” He mutters, unable to meet Harry’s eyes and he all but flees, very reminiscent of the first time Harry sucked his dick.
After such a wonderful experience, Harry can’t help but feel slightly hollow inside, empty like he’s lost something and he doesn’t really understand what that could possibly be.
Perhaps it was the intimacy behind this. Malfoy knew about his biggest shame now and instead of shunning him he seemed to enjoy it as much as Harry did. And then they did something that felt more connecting than they’ve ever done before, only for him to leave the same way he normally does. No, worse, Malfoy leaves him clearly feeling ashamed about what they’d just done.
Harry isn’t sure why it makes him feel anything. He wanted to be used and abandoned, hadn’t he? He doesn’t care at all what Malfoy thinks of him. But for some reason… for some reason he does care. For some reason he hates the fact that Malfoy couldn’t stand the thought of looking at him after this. It’s so confusing to want to be treated terribly, to genuinely love it, only to feel sad and lonely because of it right after.
Malfoy’s probably ashamed that he’s fucking around with someone as screwed up as Harry. And he can’t really blame him, can he?
He wishes he could run from himself too…