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Harry studied Draco's townhouse, patiently looking for a crack in his wards. It was difficult, by the bleak light of the street lamps alone, but Harry was a good wizard. And that was one of the skills he had developed in his work as an Auror.
Draco was lying on his stomach, on top of a thick duvet. It was hot, Harry's sweat was dripping down his back where his charm had worn off, and he was burning to lick the sweat he would find on his slave's body. His bed was like a cloud in which he was comfortably curled up, one leg bent. His arms were folded under his pillow, showing off the attractive muscles of his shoulders and back.
All he was wearing was a pair of lacy panties.
There: wards crumbing. For a moment, the thrill was drowned by the rage: he was going to fix them when he left, after giving Draco a good thrashing for being so poorly protected. Not checking his wards every day was reckless of him.
Harry descended from the roof of the opposite house in silence. He broke into the house, opened his shirt and made himself comfortable in the kitchen, watching with amusement the little life of his slave when he was not crying for his pleasure - the washed strawberries on the counter, the open book by the softest armchair, a lemon mosquito potion in little clay pots by the windows. Harry placed a dome of silence around the living rooms. With a wave of his wand, he opened one of the windows. The thin curtain moved sharply in the draught, and the door to the half-open bedroom above slammed shut.
Shortly afterwards, Harry heard footsteps on the wooden floor. Running water.
The sounds faded. No survival instinct.
Harry pushed the banal vase, decorated with an extravagant bouquet of summer flowers, off the kitchen table. The glass shattered into tiny pieces. Harry pressed his palm against his sex, swollen and aching in his jeans.
Draco came down the stairs.
Harry rose quietly, positioning himself in the blind spot at the side of the cooling cupboard.
His boy had his wand in his hand. Not entirely devoid of survival instincts, then.
As he passed him, Harry wordlessly disarmed him and clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his scream.
Draco struggled. Harry dropped their wands out of reach, and used his second arm to hug his waist. Draco thrashed, tried to kick him, and Harry squeezed him harder, too hard, making him cough as he pressured his stomach.
"Are you going to be sick?" asked Harry. He shoved him against the counter, pressing his hips against his pelvis to corner him. He restrained his wrists with one hand, put the other to his throat, following the subcutaneous movement of his nausea.
"Let me go!"
Good boy. There hadn't been a moment when he didn't want to be fucked by Harry so far, but CNC turned him on as much as it did him. "You dirty little whore. You're already hard. Shall we see if you're wet, too?"
He stepped back and stripped him savagely of his silk dressing gown, shoving his hand into his panties under his balls, like where he would have gone to look for a little pussy. "You're an Auror." Big, silver, frightened eyes, the way they should be when you were a pretty piece of Death Eater ass facing the grand justice of the country.
Draco tried to kick him to get away, and after letting him have a few scratches, Harry slapped him hard, making him lose his balance. He cut himself a little more on the small pieces of glass on the floor - he was barefoot, as protected as a kitten in the circumstances.
"You're going to hurt yourself, kitten..." purred Harry, letting him try to walk away for a split second before kicking him in the shin with his heavy leather boots. "You know why I'm here."
"No, no..."
Harry plunged a satisfying fist into the silky hair and gripped back violently. Draco screamed. Harry's cock swelled further. "Oh yes. Your address isn't exactly a secret, at the office - I wonder why." He undid his belt and fly, took one of his victim's hands and pressed it into his boxers.
Draco struggled, and noticed the open window nearby. He screamed for help - it was coming from the gut - and Harry took the opportunity to shove as many fingers as he could into his mouth, excited by the texture of his tongue, the soft palate of his violated mouth.
He bit him.
Harry hissed, and tightened his grip on his jaw painfully in retaliation. "I see." He conjured rope and his O-shaped gag, tied his arms behind him and forced the instrument into his mouth. He made him get down on his knees on the water, shattered glass and scattered flowers, suffering and beautiful like that Ophelia painting.
He was hard as a pillar, and slid his cock into the hot mouth, whose distorted cries became moans and heavy painful gags. Harry rammed the full length of his cock in, silencing and starving him of air, blocking his nose for good measure. He thrust deep into his throat, fucking his skull, and waited until his slave had the consistency of a rag doll, ready to collapse, to withdraw just enough so that once he'd freed his nose, he could breathe a little through it with concentration. "Don't panic. All you have to do is breathe." Of course, his captive was completely panicked, and used what little oxygen he had to try in vain to struggle, before collapsing.
Harry used his throat more, warm and wet and perfect around his fat cock, before finally pulling out. He let the warm body fall to the floor, lifeless, and wanked on top of it.
But the fact that he wasn't completely naked wasn't right at all. Harry crouched down and ripped off his panties, flipping him onto his stomach and sticking his cock between two lovely, warm globes of pale flesh. It was too dry. He leaned in further, putting his hand close to the slave's face. "Spit."
He remained motionless. Harry sighed. The angle wasn't practical for slapping, so he slid his belt out of its hoops and bent it in half to strike his thick buttocks. After several lashes, his foggy movements became sharper.
"Spit," Harry repeated. The slave tried to straighten up enough for his saliva, dripping profusely from his forced open mouth, to reach his owner's palm. "Good. You're not totally useless, with the right encouragement." He placed the makeshift lubricant between his buttocks, and with a blissful sigh slid his cock between them, throbbing, veiny and bluish from how hard it was.
The slave muttered something unintelligible, probably along the lines of 'no, let me go'. Harry magically undid his gag. "I'm begging you, no, stop... Stop! Stop!" Harry chuckled.
The scratches from the glass on his delicious body were small and innocuous, so Harry happily left the crime scene as it was. He sat up on his knees, locking Draco's legs with the optimal placement of his shins and boots on them, and spread his buttocks to push the head of his cock against the prettiest, tightest, pinkest little anus there was.
Draco shrieked, struggling harder. The raw ropes had already left purplish marks on his bent back arms. Harry put one of his palms on his lower back and put all his weight on it.
"Are you surprised?" asked Harry. "Did you think you were good for anything other than being used and abused? Try not to bite your tongue when I..." Without warning, in the middle of his sentence, Harry managed to get a bit of his member inside him.
Draco convulsed and screamed from the pain of being penetrated unprepared, barely moist. This created an intense and surprising pressure around the crown of Harry's cock; his cock and balls contracted violently.
"Shh, shh, beautiful. You better learn to take what you're given. I'm going to fuck you no matter what. There's nothing you can do about it." He let his voice take on the gentle, loving tone he sometimes caught himself having with his slave. In this context, it sounded psychopathic.
Draco protested with all the wandless magic he could muster. The furniture vibrated. A bowl fell on Harry's head.
He laughed. "Lovely."
He covered his cock in conjured lube and, in one motion, sank into him from the slit to the base. It seemed almost too fast for his slave's nerve endings to keep up, and it took a second before he howled and bucked like hell. Harry let him, delighted, until the slave realised that the more he moved, the more friction he created around his assailant's cock.
Harry pulled his hips to him, sitting back on his heels, and forced a movement of Draco's pelvis with two imperious hands, making him rape himself on his master. With his arms bound, all the slave's weight rested on his knees and cheek. "Ah. That's nice."
Draco didn't quite seem to agree, judging by his sudden sobs. His body was a vise around Harry's cock. Harry forced his hips back and forth on his cock, rocked by the thrusts, by his heavy breathing, by his moans and tears so intense they seemed to squeeze his thin body tighter around him. "It hurts! Aaaaahhh! It hurts - so - much, please - please - let me..."
"Where does it hurt, darling?"
"My... my... Aaaahh! Stop!"
"Your little anus? Your pretty pussy? Your tummy?"
"Stop, stop!"
"I don't think so." Draco kept begging him to stop as he cried, and Harry kept talking calmly. "This is exactly what you deserve, baby. You know it, deep down. You were made to be owned by me." He was going to cum soon. The pressure was phenomenal.
He pulled out of his slave's ass, not ready to end the experience. The little hole wasn't so little any more, angry, red and gaping. The slave cried out in discomfort at suddenly being empty, raw. Harry stuck a single finger inside him, emphasising the weird, jarring sensation of contraction around emptiness after the thickness of flesh, and Draco squirmed, trying to pull free.
He was no match for Harry's degree of wandless magic, nor for the heaviness of his muscles on his beautiful but harmless body.
However, Draco's magic finally came to some use, and as soon as one point of the rope was severed by it, he immediately elbowed Harry in the face. It stung.
He escaped, scrambling onto his knees and his one free arm and trying to get up, clutching the furniture in his lovely kitchen, still sobbing.
Harry wiped the blood from his face and got to his feet. He ran after him, following the wet footprints, and saw just in time that he was about to leave the house to adjust to what he had not anticipated in his countless scripts of the scene - he hurriedly cast spells so as not to be seen or heard by the neighbours, and belatedly followed Draco into the front garden.
Before Draco had passed through the small white gate, he cast a spell that worked like a lasso, slipping into a more annoyed and vicious version of his dominant self. Draco fell heavily to the soft grass, abruptly interrupted in his sprint. "No!"
"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear you anymore."
Draco screamed of terror and shattered hopes of escape as Harry covered him with his body. "I'm not done raping you."
Then Harry strangled him, with both hands and no leeway.
The slave tried to shake his head from side to side, and Harry squeezed harder. Draco's cock was wet and hard under his weight.
The pale mouth moved.
"You can't breathe?" Harry read his lips. "Oh, I didn't realise, you stupid slut."
He paused for a moment to deliver slap after slap after slap to his cheeks. His face reddened in patches where he'd been hit, his drool-stained chin, his eyes red and wet. So insanely beautiful.
"Please, please, please…" Draco whispered, exhausted.
"I told you I didn't want to hear from you again!"
He used one hand to fondle Draco's drawn balls and hard cock, and the other to strangle him again. His hand seemed immense on his delicate, shaven throat.
A car drove past, right next to the well-kept lawn. The headlights shone on them briefly.
His slave's pretty mouth had softened, his body no longer responding to him.
Harry kissed his lifeless lips. "There. I'm all the air you need. Aren't I?"
Eyes rolling back, perfectly submissive, his slave found the energy to nod. Harry laughed happily. He squeezed a little tighter on his throat and bit his bottom lip, wanking him faster.
Draco came, powerless, an immense amount of sperm coming out in a few drowsy pulses. Harry smiled against his lips and straightened up, letting him breathe again. The orgasm, the return of oxygen, the sudden absence of pain - Harry had left bruises everywhere from weighing so much on his body - made the grey eyes widen more than any drug ever could. And Merlin knew what drugs the wizards had come up with.
"You haven't come, Sir," panted Draco as his first lucid thought.
Harry smiled, kissed the trace of his fingers on his beloved throat. He rolled onto his back and pushed his jeans down the middle of his thighs. "Come and ride me, pet. If you're good, I'll give you a good whipping before I leave."