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The Sording of Perfection	By : Abremaline Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1484 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Sording of Perfection
- 1
Title: The Sording
of Perfection

Author: Abremaline

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Draco/Dining Room (wank!fic)

Warning: Artsy, poetic styling stuff. D/s overtones.

Disclaimer: Rowling owns it. I just
perverted it.

Disclaimer2: All characters portrayed aged
over 18

Summary: The dining room is too perfect.
Draco tries to ruin it. Not much plot.

Draco scanned the room with his eyes.
Everything was pristine, everything was in its place. Malfoy Manor dining room, in its ever present, never changing, capsule
against time. Everything seemed perpetually frozen in this room. Forever
caught in some past master's image of personal sanctity.

Draco was bored stupid. He couldn't handle
it. He wanted to mess it all up, coat every surface in grime, and slime, and
come. He wanted to force people to
eat here, with it like that. Much more interesting then the white, on white, on
white, all lathered in fake wholesomeness.

Fact was though; He couldn't find the
inspiration to start work on the 'en-griming' of the dining room. It was as
though it had frozen him within its never ceasing, never changing entity of
non-existence. He couldn't even leave, some force within himself kept him
there. It stayed him, rocking backwards on the hind legs of the chair. Unable even to cross his feet on the marble table in front of him.

White. He felt white. Like his ancestors where white, like the room was
white. White, like, no doubt, his future would be. White.
And frozen in this room of nothingness perfection. Alone with himself and his dreams of perfected ruin. Lost to the white.

The room had powers, he had powers. In this room of stale sanitary white, could he call
forth the sordid? Certainly a self appointed task worth
testing. A way to let the room destroy itself.
Use its own powers against it.

It worked on the ideal of cleanliness and
perfection, so, logically, all he had to do was
convince himself of something else. Other then the excepted
usual.

Himself. But, stronger of the mind. That would be a
form of perfection to him. Strong enough to stand by himself.
Strong enough to leave this room, and its ruling court over
his mind. Strong enough to stand and hold his wand to
Potter, strong enough to tell the dark lord to sod it. Strong enough to
take Severus Snape and...and what?

He didn't want to kill him, nor did he hold
any interest in fucking him. Do what to Snape? A question for
a later time that one.

An interest in fucking
people. His mind (and the room too) wandered off
tangent. Who did he hold an interest in fucking, if not any of the above?

Purity. Like this room. Taken harsh and destroyed. The beauty it would be,
to wield a power like that. To break them and create
something new, something wanton and perverted. Something that would be
his!

But, who, in the Sodom world of new
still held such a purity? Certainly not Saint Potter! Last seen by Malfoy being drilled up the arse into a filthy brick
wall at a back street night club. No, not even he, in this time of the
lost, held the purity that Draco wished to ruin and recreate as something new.

Just him and this white
anesthetized room. The only perfection left of
the kind he sought. And the room refused to be ruined. It was most definitely
unlikely to scream "Oh, fuck me again, Draco! Cover me in your spent, Draco! I live on your seed, Draco."

Ridiculous things that he himself knew well, were unlikely to ever be screamed by anyone. Purity
unregarded. It was stupid, and only ever heard from the mouths of porn stars.

Still, the idea turned him on. He hardened
at their sounds ringing in his head. Gasping, panting, crying, and screaming.
"Draco. More, Draco. Have me, take me, Break me! Draco. More." gasping.

Front legs of a perfect white chair,
clicked as they hit the floor. A hand, pristine in its white purity, rubs his
hardening cock through the pressed pants as the sounds of the unseen spoil
continue in his mind.

A bared arse, specifically prepared. Raised to the air, begging for the taking. An ignored sign of want, dripping its pleasure from under. Signs of the beginning of the ruin, dripping to the floor. Untouched by anyone. Not even he
yet.

A shudder for air, as he drives his cock
into that hole spread there before him.

�Draco!�

A shuddered gasp, an
unquiet groan. Sounding,
bouncing off the white of the dining room.

Unconsciously, still lost
in the image in his mind. The rubbing gets
faster, harder, aided by the room he is in. Skin on fabric,
forced on marble, bearing down onto its surface. Smooth surface now
roughened through the cotton.

A groan, and an
edge of the table.

Purity, in his mind, now rocking back
into him. Contracting around him, and cascading
drippings of sin to the marble.

Devine divinity wanting. Thrusting.
Nameless faceless, essence of the untainted. Now thoroughly corrupted.

�Draco!�

Fuck. Fabric, and table, and room, and the
oiled wanted needing body splayed beneath.

Faster, harder, he drilled to the table, to
the wall, to every surface there was. Still not touching the dick of taken, not
till�..

He grabbed it. Harshly.
Twisting the head of its owner backward towards his own,
claiming possession of that too as he drove hard, right to its very soul.

Screaming. This time Draco�s own, of pleasure, rent the room as he was lost to
the white. Pushing in and no longer pulling out. Just in, in,
in, and�.release as he comes. Searing forever the pure he envisioned. Soaking the room in his come. Now forever left flowing from
the walls in the Malfoy dining room.

Draco smirked from within his haze where he
lay back naked on the table. Perfection. This was much
more his style.

�Draco!�

He turns. �Mother! I was just
redecorating.�

~end~
- 1
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The Sording of Perfection