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Make Me Bleed	By : Insatiable_Fox Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7610 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any characters from the Harry Potter series. I make no money nor claim a profit off this work.

Chapter List
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Was it wrong that a mimicry of their school yard antagonism sent his abdomen clenching and his pulse racing? Possibly, but then again nothing between him and Harry was normal, and somehow it fit.

Harry loomed over him, arms either side of Draco’s shoulders, and Draco shivered, his mind and body caught in a fight between panic and arousal. A lazy smirk hovered on Harry’s lips as he took in Draco’s wide eyes, panting breaths, and his straining pants. “See, Draco” Harry purred, leaning down so his mouth was inches from his. “I told you that you wanted it. Look at you, so taut, wound up. Relax.”

“Get off me then, Potter” he snapped, twisting and rolling them so it was now Draco on top. Harry just grinned, seemingly happy enough to let Draco control the situation. For now.

“What you going to do to me, Malfoy” Harry teased, and the use of his last name sent shocks of pleasure down Draco’s body, reminiscent of the boys at Hogwarts they had been, a reminder that this was Harry Potter, and he was Draco Malfoy, and they were, probably, hopefully, going to have sex. “You going to fight me?” Fingertips skated up his sides, pulling his top up and leaving goosebumps where they brushed against his bare skin. Even from the bottom it felt like Harry was in control, and he fought against the compelling urge to submit.

“You're the one naked, you know” Draco smirked. “I wouldn't be so cocky, if I were you.”

“Why, Malfoy, I think you’re right.” Harry grinned, and it set Draco on edge. “Shall we remedy that disastrous problem?” Suddenly, Harry’s hands were grabbing the bottom of his many shirts, pulling them up, over, off, all at once, until his chest was bare, his clothes on the floor, and Harry looked far too pleased with himself.

The cold air brushed against his newly freed skin, hardening his nipples and sensitising his flesh. He couldn't stifle a groan as Harry pulled his body until he was straddling Harry’s legs, his cock nudging at Draco's still-covered hole indecently. “You know, I don't really mind being under you, right now.” A hand reached up to toy with his nipple, the other flattening out over his pelvic bone, fingers brushing closer and closer to where he desperately needed them to be, yet panic still rose at the thought of. “Not when I get to lie back and perv at you in all your wanton glory.”

A blush stained his cheeks, and it was wrong, so wrong, because it was meant to be Draco in control, Draco in charge. Harry writhing in pleasure and biting his lips to stop the need to cry out for more, just from his nipples being touched. Draco was done being the whore, the toy to be played with. He wanted to be the giver, not the taker, and the knowledge that his body was responding to Harry’s sly taunts, responding to his control, sickened him.

This, among other things, was about proving to himself the he could be more than the pretty little submissive his father had conditioned, Voldemort had tortured, and muggles had used. He was more, should be more.

“Draco” Harry’s voice was soft, his tone harbouring nothing but care, and love. “You’re thinking too much. Let go. I promise I’ll catch you.”

“Easy for you to say, Potter, when your ass hasn't been violated and abused since you were six. Fucking shut up, and kiss me.”

Harry studied Draco for a long second, before yanking him down and doing just that, their lips melding even as their tongues battled for control, breath hot and panting, hands clutching desperately at any inch of skin they could. Draco swallowed Harry’s moans as his ass pressed against Harry’s dick, rocking his hips forward, grinding harder and down, relishing the needy whimpers and Harry’s bucking hips as much as his own pleasure.

Harry’s hands were on Draco’s waistband even as his mouth moved on to his neck, his teeth biting harshly at the skin before the soft swipe of his tongue soothed the pain, along his jaw and to his ear lobes, a hyper sensitised symphony that had Draco wriggling and panting like a virgin. Honestly, he pretty much was when it came to sex, the only pleasure gained was from Voldemort’s imperius, which was no pleasure at all.

A low grunt and a muttered “oh for fuck’s sake” was his only warning before Harry flicked his hand and Draco’s pants were gone, the sudden heat against his ass and thighs making his breath hitch

“Much better” Potter growled, eyes fixating on Draco’s recently liberated cock as it came to rest against his stomach . Now seemingly hesitant, he reached out and curled his hand around Draco’s dick, dragging free a broken moan at the contact. “Why is it, Malfoy, that you have to beat me at everything?” he asked with a grin.

Draco looked down, confused, more focused on Harry’s hand that had started languidly sliding up and down his length. “Because I'm fabulous? Not that I actually know what you’re on about.”

“This -” he gave Draco’s dick a sharp tug that had him whimpering in pleasure “-is possibly the most perfect thing I have ever seen.” Feeling awkward and ten times more aroused, Draco simply laughed. Harry’s eyes flicked up to him, the humour of the last few minutes having been replaced by heavy desire. “Do you know how much I want to bleed you right now?” His voice was low and husky.

Draco instantly stilled, terror flashing through him. “B-bleed me?” he stammered, his mind instantly flashing back to the past. Voldemort had bled him. Fucked him and bled him and raped him and made him enjoy it. “No, Potter.” What was meant to be stern came out strained and timid.

In a sudden movement, Harry flipped them so Draco was under him, head pressed against the intricate iron headboard. “Yes, Draco” Harry purred,shuffling down to bury his nose into Draco’s pubic hair and inhaling deeply, an alarmingly intimate gesture that had him feeling both awkward, yet ridiculously horny at the same time.

“Harry” he panted, trying to ignore the trails of heat Harry was inflicting on his hip bones with his tongue. “There is no way in fucking hell I'm going to let you cut me, or yourself.”

“It’s not the same” Potter replied in a tone Draco guessed was meant to be reassuring. He finally looked up from his attack and Draco sighed, welcoming yet resenting the break. “Draco... this isn't - wouldn't be - about redemption. It's not about paying for blood spilt.” His eyes darkened, and Draco wished he was unable to look away from that intense scrutiny, the gaze that saw too much, eyes that pierced through his defences. “I want your blood. I want to see it, I want to feel it. I want to taste it, lick the droplets from your body. I want that vitality, the proof that you're alive and before me, that as I kiss the wounds and heal the pain it's you, needy and wanting and hard.” Harry paused, eyes lidded, and Draco lay shock-still, the words turning uncomfortably in his head even as his body reacted shamelessly to the heady desire in Potter’s tone.

What Harry was asking for was twisted and sick, too much like what he had been forced to give before, endure. It was too much, too soon, and would only ensure that Draco could never forget that he was indeed what everyone had claimed; a depraved, perverse whore, a needy little pain slut, a sick, unnatural queer. He had been all those things for his father, for Voldemort, It shouldn't have surprised him that Harry - dark, disturbed, fucked-up Harry - was no different. This was never going to be sweet, halcyon love making.

Why was he kidding himself? This was all he deserved. He should have been thankful, that Harry even wanted to touch his defiled, grotesque body.

“Fine. Do it” he said woodenly, squeezing his eyes shut and preparing for the pain.

“Draco” Harry said, and there was so much just in that one word that Draco’s eyes flicked back open, startling when Harry’s face was right in front of him, filled with promise, and care, and oh god so much fucking love that Draco didn't deserve. It made him want to cry. “Draco.” Harry’s voice was low and intense. “Do you think I would ever do anything to seriously harm you? I’ve lost you once. I’m not going to do it again.” His tone turned frustrated. “It’s just so fucking hard! To see you walking around, and know that it’s your past weighing down. To know what happened to you, to know that I should have stopped it, yet you're still standing here, trying, for me. You need to let go, Draco, let the past go and accept the free fall, because I’m going to be here to catch your fall. It could be good, so fucking good, because you're not the scared boy your father raised, and you're not the boy who endured so fucking much at the hands of Voldemort. God, Draco -” Harry’s voice broke, hands tightening almost to the point of pain on Draco’s hips. “- You’re Draco. You’re sassy, gorgeous, brave Malfoy. You're the man who pulled me from the dead, in more ways than one. This isn't going to be simple, you've said it yourself. But I’m trying. For you. I wont cut for redemption, not any more, because you give me hope. But the blood... I need it. I need it from you. Because sometimes, I don't even believe that you're real, but it's tangible, blood doesn't lie, and it kills me to ask because I'm so sure you will run, but I need it.”

Harry cut off with a gulp, his head dropping to rest against Draco’s chest, his hands still clenched on his hips as if desperately willing him to stay. “The first time I cut you” Draco eventually whispered, and Harry went still. “Where was is?”

“On my chest. Two parallel lines” Harry automatically answered before falling silent, his brows drawn. Abruptly, his head flashed up and his gaze zeroed in on Draco’s chest. “Sectumsempra” he breathed. “I hadn’t realised.”

“You can't see them; they’ve been lost among the countless others. But that’s what the curse left. I’ve marked you, off me. It’s your turn to do the same.”

Harry didn't need to ask what he meant, and all Draco hoped was that he didn’t take the invitation too literally. Instead, Harry moved down so that he was kneeling between Draco’s legs, and he felt so open, so exposed, like he was presenting his body for Harry’s hands.

Which, really, was the truth.

There was a glint in Harry’s hand, and it seemed fitting when he made out the shard of mirror. Two new beginnings had been forged from the glass, both essential in their own way to moving on, in overcoming and letting go.

He expected pain, but felt only Harry's mouth back on him, his persuasive tongue once again sucking and nipping at the accentuated bones of Draco’s hips and pelvis, hot swipes up the crease of his thigh, Harry’s cheek brushing against Draco’s cock. He was hard, achingly hard, and even knowing what was about to come couldn't diminish the pleasure that burned in his gut and clenched at his spine. One of Harry’s hands moved down, fingers trailing down over balls, making them tighten, before moving to rest against his hole, a finger stroking lightly back and forth.

“Harry” Draco moaned, wanting Harry to do it, hating that he did. “Harry. Make me bleed.”

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. With a desperate groan he pressed the shard to Draco’s inner thigh which tensed with the rest of him, not from the pain but from the pleasure, Harry’s need and arousal setting Draco on edge. A hitched moan, as Harry dragged the blade down and across, and he could feel it, knew what was being carved into his skin, even as one was completed and Harry moved on to the other thigh. It stung, but the sting seemed to exacerbate the conflagration which burned recklessly through his body, the barrage of sensations managing to block out the scream of his mind, and its memories. It wasn't until Harry let out a sharp moan that he realised the cuts were complete, and he was staring hypnotised by the blood Draco could now feel starting to slick down his thighs.

Fingertips were sliding through the blood, patterns emerging out of the chaos as Harry revelled in the welling and drip of crimson, breath heavy and laboured. It felt heady, Harry’s hands on him, like before he had been a blank canvas just waiting for someone to come along and add life to it, blood the vital, irreplaceable medium. Slickened, red fingers wrapped around his cock, and there was something so primal, so basic, about it that he couldn't help the buck of his groin into Harry’s grasp, or the debauched yelp when the moist heat of Harry’s mouth proceeded to engulf his bloodied dick.

“Like a pretty red lollipop” Harry murmured around a mouthful of Draco, and Draco couldn't help the hysterical laugh that escaped him, even as his hands clutched Harry’s shoulders and his eyes fluttered.

“Really, Potter?”

Harry just grinned, and Draco looked down to see two perfect lighting bolt cuts on his thighs. A fitting end, both having given something that had been forced upon them a new meaning.

Eventually, every stain of crimson had been licked painstakingly from his body. He reached for Harry, desperate to touch him, but his hand caught on something, and he realised he was bound, each wrist and ankle tethered to a corner of the bed so he was restrained in an unyielding X. Panic seared through him like wildfire, annihilating every ounce of lust, replacing it with terror and hysteria.

“What the fuck did you do, Harry?” he exclaimed, pulling frantically at the fine, yet strangely harsh ropes entwined around his limbs.

“Hmm?” Harry looked up drunkenly, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Nothing. Well, I wouldn't say nothing but - “ he paused abruptly. “Draco, why are you tied to the bed?”

“Don’t act innocent, Potter” Draco growled, temper rising along with the panic. “Untie me, you brute!”

“But Draco. I quite like seeing you spread and writhing, knowing you can’t run.” Harry smirked, and the hunger in his eyes gleamed. “My pretty little Draco. Look at you, all panting and debauched. Why try to fight what you know you like? What you enjoy? I can see it in your eyes, Malfoy. You want to be helpless to my every whim.”

“I’m not fucking submissive, Harry.” No. That was what Voldemort and his father had wanted. He wasn’t, couldn't be, that person.

“Did I ever say you were?” Harry’s hands trailed over Draco’s sides, down his thighs, feather light over his dick. “Just because you get off on being restrained doesn't make you a sub. It’s a stupid word, Draco. I’m not hand feeding you grapes while you sit on your heels at my feet. Although-”

“I’m not your whore to trifle with!” The intensity of his voice startled Harry, and he looked at him. “This is no fucking different than being the tortured sex slave of the Dark Lord, or my father's young plaything! You want a whore, Harry? You want someone to bind, and whip? A body to violate? Something that, once struck by the sharp crack of a cane and torn to shreds by the cat o nine, you can watch as the bruises bloom and the wounds bleed? Oh, wait. That probably sounds amazing to you.”

“It does.” Draco couldn't help the flinch, not actually expecting Potter to agree. “But that’s not what I’m asking of you. You’re more than that, far more, and just because someone likes to be bound, likes pain, craves to be dominated by others, doesn't make them less. It makes them more, because it's a lot harder to admit you want that, than it is to take a whip to someone.”

“I disagree, Potter. Admitting that would be saying I enjoyed what Voldemort put me through.”

“That was rape, Draco,” and Harry’s voice was so laced with pity, it made him furious. “They are completely different.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. Maybe I want to whip you.”

Draco swore Harry rolled his eyes. “Does that sound good to you? Well, let's go then.” With a quick movement, he had grabbed a blade off the side table and had Draco’s ropes cut.

“Let's go?” Draco queried, rubbing his wrists.

“Whip me. Tell me how good it feels. Come on, Malfoy” There was challenge in his eyes, a challenge Draco couldn't ignore. “Whip me. I’m sure there’s a cane in that wardrobe.” He swung his hand randomly in the direction of a solid oak tall boy.

Muttering something along the lines of ‘dare I ask?’ Draco stalked towards the closet, refusing to acknowledge the apprehension settling in his gut, instead focusing on the outrage, the disgust - at him, and himself. Finding the supple wooden cane, he turned to face Harry, who smirked. Oh, fuck, did he want to cane that smirk off his face.

“I’m not a fucking whore” Draco snarled, and his arm whipped out, the cane connecting with the outer side of Harry’s thigh. It was a wild shot, unwieldy, but the crack and sting was enough to make Harry hiss and Draco flinch.

“Again.”

Draco snarled. “Fuck you, Potter.” Another blow landed, this time on Harry’s hip, the sound echoing through the house. The feeling of inflicting pain was heady, an outlet for his rage and disgust. “You like that?”

“Is that all you got, Malfoy?” Harry gritted out defiantly.

“No.” His arm lashed out, the cane connecting with Harry’s nipple, and then he was moving, circling Potter and falling into some sort of trance as hit after hit rained down across Harry; back, shoulders, ass, thighs. Groin. Welts laced his body, hot and red, and it felt so good to Draco, to inflict pain akin to what he had gone through. Addictive.

It was only when the cane connected with a particularity bad welt, and Harry let out a pained cry, that Draco was pulled out of his trance. Body heaving from excursion, he paused to regain his breath, eyes seeking out Harry’s.

Harry had dropped to his knees, arms braced on the floor, bare back a mess of welts and the beginnings of bruises, blood dripping down the swollen flesh. His head drooped, his body shaking, clenching and unclenching as he fought through the strain. Small whimpers escaped his mouth, and his hitched breathing made Draco think he was fighting tears.

What the fuck had he done? Draco’s stomach heaved, before he was violently sick beside the wardrobe. “Harry? Shit, Harry, I’m so sorry.” He bent down beside him, hands fluttering awkwardly over the ruined, bloody skin beside him, wanting to help but couldn't, his body sick with revulsion and his mind unable to process the scene before him.

“It’s fine, Draco” Harry managed to cough out, moaning as he straightened to sit on his heals.

“No, its not fucking fine, I can't believe I did that... Why the fuck did you let me?!” Draco’s voice rose to hysteria. He was no better than his father, no better than the muggles who abused his body. He, Draco, had inflicted that damage on Harry, created the cuts and agony, in a twisted sense of vengeance. Yet it had been aimed at the wrong person, and Harry had been forced to suffer through the vindictiveness as Draco had tried to dominate his past.

He was sick. Sick, twisted, and cruel, and it seemed like he had finally shown Harry his true colours. That, more than anything, made him break down to tears.

“Draco. Draco, It’s fine. Please.” Harry pulled himself off the floor to wrap his arms around Draco, wincing slightly as skin met abused skin. “I asked you to. I wanted to prove a point, and I have.”

“So are you happy that it's been made clearly oblivious that I'm no better than the men who tortured me?”

“Draco” Harry actually laughed. “You are about as far away from those men as you could be. Just let me care for you.”

“You will do no such thing. I sicken myself.”

“Draco.” Harry’s voice dropped. “Stop it.”

“No!” Draco screeched wildly. “So I'm not some commanding dominant, but I refuse to be the sub who takes it, craves the pain, and begs for their master!”

“Then don't be! Fuck the past, Malfoy! Fuck the people who tried to tell you what you were! Fuck the labels, and what's ‘right’ and what's ‘wrong’! Just let yourself be, for once in your life! Just close your eyes, Draco, and step off into the free fall, because I will, I will catch you!” Harry stood, chest heaving, body red and wounded, fire blazing in his eyes, hands gripping Draco’s upper arms, and he didn't think he had ever, ever, seen anything so compelling. Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, dead, broken Potter, looked alive. Draco was frozen, unmoving and unable to utter a word, his body reacting shamelessly to the power behind those words, and maybe, just maybe, he wanted all that.

Harry, obviously annoyed by Draco’s stunned silence, let out a snarl before picking Draco up like he weighed nothing and throwing him onto the bed. Draco struggled, twisting and bucking but Harry was stronger, one hand wrapped around Draco’s frail wrists while he loomed over him, stretching Draco’s body out. “Fucking accept it, Draco” he growled, and there was something so powerful, so intense, so hot, just in that one command, that it took Draco everything he had not to comply. “Let yourself go. I’ll catch you.” Harry’s thighs pressed Draco’s open, and there was nothing he could do, his wrists restrained and his legs spread, he felt like a shameless whore, a needy slut, his mind chanting yes, yes, yes, even as his body battled. One of Harry’s knees moved up to press harshly against his aching balls, and Draco didn't know when he had become hard again, but he was, his erection bouncing hotly against his pelvis, trailing patches of pre-cum. Harry’s hand wrapped around his length, hot and hard and right; and as Harry violently jerked it before landing a sharp slap against its leaking head, he knew he was gone.

It was violent, and perfect in a way it made him feel alive, his body needing Harry, needing his control, because it was only then that he could let himself go.

Harry had promised to catch him, and in that one moment, Draco trusted him to do just that.

He let out another needy whimper as a hand wrapped around his balls, pulling and rolling them in a way that shouldn't feel good but did. the other hand still wrapped around his cock, slicking over the tip. The pleasure was too much, toes curling and back arching and body desperately pleading for more, so much more, more pain and more control and more Harry.

“Say it, Malfoy” Harry snarled, form tense and strained from the effort of holding Draco down, controlling his wild body. “I’m not going to fuck you till you say it.”

Draco thrashed his head back and forth, eyes shut, desire overloading his system. He needed it, begged for it, but it was one thing to want it, and another to voice it, and his mind still screamed at him to stop.

“It’s your choice, Malfoy. Stop denying it. Let yourself feel alive, just for a moment in time.” Harry growled, before leaning down to bite him, hard, on his nipple, sending his body cascading into a shaking mess of pleasure.

“Fine!” Draco yelled, but it was more of a plea. “Fuck me, Harry. Fuck me and own me and catch me.”

He didn't need to ask twice.

With a moan, the hardness that had been nudging against his ass pushed forward, the tip pressing into the tight, clamping heat with no preparation at all. Draco let out a strangled cry, body rejecting the intrusion even as his mind begged for it. Another thrust, Harry inching deeper, and it was excruciating and horrible and perfect and not enough all at once. Draco realised he had been a fool to deny that he wanted the pain, because the pain made him feel alive, just as much as Harry grunting above him did. His ass was burning, the muscles clenching. Resisting. Draco didn't know how he was ever going to possibly take him all.

“Fuck, Malfoy. So fucking tight.” Harry maneuvered Draco’s legs so that they were resting on his shoulders, and all Draco could concentrate on was the burning desire and the pure pleasure written across Harry’s straining face.

Harry was deep, his hips against Draco’s ass, fucking him unrelentingly, pushing Draco up the bed with each thrust. His fingers clutched Harry’s back, digging in, needing the support and the anchorage it provided. His body was on fire, the burning heat in his abdomen and the clenching of his balls, close, so close, but not close enough, desperately needing the push to send him spiralling into free fall. “Slap me, Potter” he begged desperately, and when it came that was all it took, Harry’s hand colliding with his tip and pushing him over the edge, a keening wail emitted as he came, milky seed coating his stomach as well as Harry’s. There was something so primal, so intoxicating, about seeing himself smeared over Harry, making his territory and staking his claim.

“Over” Harry commanded, flipping Draco over so that he was on his stomach. “Hold on to the headboard.” He complied, before Harry was back in him, filling and stretching and burying deeper. Harry grabbed Draco’s hips, lifting him so that it was only the strength in Harry’s arms and the support of his hands that kept Draco up. The cock in his ass demanding, powerful, so fucking amazing that he briefly wondered how he had managed to go his whole life without being fucked by Harry and his wonderful appendage.

“See, Draco” Harry panted, wonder in his voice even as it strained with need. “This is you. Not the conditioned child, or the rebellious teen. This is you, not controlled by your past or governed by expectations, and it's fucking beautiful.” Potters rhythm sped up, till there was no rhythm at all, hips slapping against Draco’s ass erratically, breathing stilted and uneven, hands biting into Draco’s hips with a pressure sure to leave marks. Draco found himself craving that evidence with a fierce hunger.

“Cum, Harry” Draco whimpered, needing to feel that release, the hot cum in his ass and what it symbolised, knowing that it was from Harry, was Harry, and desiring all of it. “Fucking cum all in me.”

With a ragged growl, Harry did, hips bucking and slamming into Draco’s ass one last time, his dick pulsing and his hands clamping. Draco whimpered, reveling in the sensations, the hot warmth he could feel, yet wanting more, needing more of Harry. Blood and cum not nearly enough to sate the woken hunger. “More” he demanded, wanting everything, anything, Potter had to give, even with his dick still shoved up his ass.

Harry groaned. “More, Malfoy? You want more?” Draco only moaned in response, before abruptly there was another heat in his ass, hot, perfect, filthy. It was humiliating, taboo, so base and primal; knowing it was Harry’s piss in him, the pressure building - a dam ready to burst. Finally, Harry pulled his limp cock out of Draco’s hole, leaving him to feel the streams of cum and piss running down his legs, making his dick harden once again, the total indecency and lewdness of the gesture arching his body in desire. “Was that enough for you, Malfoy?” Harry breathed into his ear, and Draco could only shake his head. Because it was true, he didn't know if he could ever get enough, and at that one moment in time, it didn't matter that he was a filthy dick pig, an unscrupulous, indecent slut, only that Harry was there.

It was at that one moment, with cum and urine cooling on his legs and around his abused ass, that he felt alive.

He didn't know how long they laid there afterwards, both Harry and himself finding their way back down from the blissful, addictive, impenetrable high, sweat and body fluids drying on their skin in the cool air. Only that when Harry rolled away and got up silently, Draco had to pry a sleepy eye open to watch the movement, instantly missing the warmth at his side. Harry stopped at a dresser opposite the bed, standing there for a long while before picking up a long wooden box and carrying it back to bed. He sat down hesitantly, such a contrast to the man who had just given him what felt like the world.

“Don’t hate me” Harry warned, and Draco could only blink in confusion as Potter took a deep breath and pushed the case into his hands. “Open it.”

Draco gave Harry a long look, turning the box over in his hands, before sighing and undoing the catch that held the case closed. His breath caught, betrayal cutting through him as what was inside was revealed. “Potter” he stated lowly. “Why do you have my wand?”
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Make Me Bleed