Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter WARNING: (Thank you SlythindorMalfoy) This chapter contains Minor with Adult, Toys, Fire play, Non-con, Physical Abuse, Humil, Minors together and Rim. If this triggers you, please skip those scenes. It is there to further plot.

The Hold

Freak woke up feeling warm. He opened his eyes to see the blond boy from the day before sitting next to him, wrapped in a tattered brown blanket. The Hold was dark like before. Just four hanging lights that weren't very bright. There were lots of shadows. The kids on the other side of the room were quiet now. Most were curled up and sleeping.

He turned his attention back to the hurt boy. The boy was sitting right next to him. He had a blanket wrapped around him so only his head could be seen. His stringy, blond hair was tucked behind his ears and just brushed his shoulders. He was staring at the curved wall, his grey eyes not blinking or moving. It was as if the other boy was turned off. He'd done it the day before, too, and Freak had tried to clean the nasty cuts while the boy wasn't paying attention.

Freak felt his face grow hot. He had no idea where the courage had come from, to pick up that blanket and touch the other boy. He had just wanted to help so badly! The boy had looked him in the eye and talked to him. He'd even given Freak food! And then. . . then the boy had held him. He'd stroked Freak's hair!

Freak began to tremble just remembering it. The motion must have caught the boy's attention, for he turned to look at Freak, eyes now bright and alert. The boy smiled at him. Smiled! And he reached out to push some food closer to Freak.

“I saved this for ya.”

Freak shook his head wildly. “I'm okay! Y-you should eat it.”

Those grey eyes became sharp and hard. “Eat.”

Freak scrambled to obey, and in only a few minutes, the bread, apple, and jerky were gone and he was finishing off a bottle of water. He looked up uncertainly at the other boy, but the boy's eyes were normal again. He wasn't angry. The boy had tucked himself back up in his blanket and sat watching him.

“My name's Draco. What's yours anyway?”

At the question, Freak broke out into a cold sweat of terror. His pulled his stick-thin legs and arms close to his body and stared with wide eyes. What if Draco got mad when he found out Freak was a freak? What if Draco hurt him for not telling him sooner? Freak hadn't known what being held felt like. Now he wanted more, but if he told then that would go away. But if he didn't, then Draco would be mad that he was keeping secrets. He was a horrible, disgusting freak for even thinking about keeping it secret!

Heart pounding, scared and hating himself, Freak ducked his head and played with the frayed hem of the blanket pooled in his lap. He bit his lip until he could feel the blood roll down his chin. A pale hand reached out and touched his face. Freak gasped and snapped his eyes up, shocked to see his own blood on Draco's skin.

“Oh!” he cried and dove for the water. He desperately spilled some on the blanket and scrambled forward to wipe Draco's fingertips clean. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. Fat tears spilled down his face. “I'm sorry.”

Draco's other hand reached out and touched Freak's face again. Freak could only stare in horrified awe as Draco put the blood-smeared fingers in his mouth. In his mouth! Those grey eyes stared at him. “You shouldn't be sorry. I'll let you know when you should be sorry, okay?”

Freak nodded dumbly. He had no idea what to think. Draco was so strange!

“What's your name?” Draco asked again. He held Freak's eyes, refusing to allow Freak to look away.

“I'm . . .” He was crying now, but he was helpless to disobey. “Freak . . . I'm Freak.”

He could hardly hear over his banging heart. He was ready for Draco to narrow his eyes, to hate him. He was ready for the slap or to be banished to one of the other groups of children away from Draco. He waited for what felt like eternity, but Draco only looked back at him. The other boy sat so still, and then the black in Draco's eyes, already big in the low light, grew until there was only a small line of silver left. Freak felt like he was falling into them as Draco stared and stared.

“Not Freak. . .” Draco said slowly in a lower voice. “Harry. . . You're Harry. . . born as the seventh month dies. . .”

Freak whimpered. “Draco?”

The other boy blinked and his eyes went back to normal. He shook his head, his stringy blond hair falling around his face. “Look.” He pulled Freak up against his body again. “Just. . . Don't call yourself Freak, kay? That's not your name. It's Harry.”

He stared up at Draco. He had no idea what to think. So much was happening. He couldn't understand. All he knew was that Draco was looking at him. Draco was petting his hair again and holding him. He would do anything for Draco.

Softly, almost as if Draco were whispering, he said, “Kay? Can ya be Harry for me?”

Freak – Harry – nodded his head even though he had no idea how to be what Draco wanted.

Draco smiled and it made Harry feel warm. No one ever smiled at him before. “Good. Sleep, Harry. I've got ya.”

Harry closed his eyes and obeyed.

xXx

Draco held the boy as he slept. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the kid. This kid. . . This kid had been so hungry it had hurt to eat. He'd acted like he'd never been touched without being hurt when Draco had held him. He'd thought his name was Freak! Draco lived in Hell, but at least he had a name. He had plans to escape; he had plans for Revenge. And he had these because he'd had the orphanage before he was kidnapped.

Draco didn't let himself remember often, but he did remember. The nice ladies. The games and playing outside. The warm food and baths. He remembered laughing and running. He remembered songs and sweets. Holidays. Wishes and presents. Draco didn't think this boy ever had any of that.

Rage stirred hot in his stomach and he held the boy tighter. He'd seen. . . something dark. Something evil. He had stared into the boy's green eyes and knew that something was hunting this poor kid. Something would come for him, something unspeakable, and the boy wouldn't survive it. It would destroy him. Draco had also seen the boy's name. He had no idea how it was possible, but the name had been written across Draco's mind in golden letters: Harry Potter. It had been amazing and terrifying all at once.

Draco shook himself. Whatever had happened when he'd looked into Harry's eyes, he knew it had happened because Harry was special. The wrong kind of special. The special that drew monsters, that made you a target. He stared down at the kid's sleeping face, turning the problem over and over, round and round. He must have sat like that for hours because suddenly the Hold door slammed open.

The kids nearest the rickety wooden stairs jumped and gave startled screams. Draco was already on his feet, hands fisted at his thighs. Harry was awake, huddled on the floor behind Draco like a helpless puppy. The lackey standing in the doorway laughed at them from the top of the stairs. He had the food tray in his arms.

“Grub's on!” the bastard called down.

Draco silently climbed the stairs, automatically compensating for the sway of the boat. He ignored the way the man's eyes roved over his naked body. He knew no one would touch him. He was for the Master's use only. Without a word, he took the tray and turned away, carrying his prize down to the kids.

He took it to his corner first, just as he always did. He put two bottles of water, two apples, two rolls, and two bags of jerky down before taking the tray to the Brats. It was their turn. The kids all watched him with hungry, frightened eyes. They didn't say anything as Draco put the tray in front of the dark-haired kids, but the Brats scrambled forward around the tray as soon as he put it down. It had been four trays, which meant two days, since they had eaten. Draco gave them a sneer and went back to his place with Harry.

The boy hadn't moved. He just watched Draco with those green eyes of his. Draco snorted and sat down. He gave the boy one of everything and took the other half. He bit into the apple and raised an eyebrow. The kid still hadn't made a move to eat the food.

“Eat,” Draco ordered after swallowing.

Harry looked so lost and confused it was almost painful, but he picked up the bread and began to eat.

“Ya know Cinderella?” Draco asked. Just as he suspected the boy shook his head. Of course he hadn't. “Well, there was this girl an' she. . .”

Draco told the tale of Cinderella. It took hours, but it was worth it. Harry stared at him as if Draco was the most wonderful thing in the world. It made Draco's chest swell with air that almost tickled. For the first time in forever, Draco was happy. But he wasn't used to talking so much. Screaming, yes. Talking, no.

“Your turn,” he demanded and waved at Harry to tell a story.

The boy instantly looked frightened. “I don't know any stories,” he whispered miserably, as if confessing some great sin.

Draco shrugged. He turned the boy so Harry was sitting in his lap, back to his chest. He wrapped the blanket around them both and leaned against the damp wooden wall of the boat. “Just make somethin' up til we fall asleep.”

For a long minute, Harry sat silently in his arms, but then he began to talk. “There was a boy. He was a Prince. He, um, he had snow white hair and grey eyes.”

Draco smirked and held the boy tighter. “I like this story.”

Harry tilted his head back to smile up at him before snuggling back down into Draco's body. “The Prince. He was in a big castle. He lived there. It was so big and white. There were big rooms that had gold floors and gold ceilings. And there were tables and tables of food. Big roasts and potatoes and everything. There were even pies and cakes! Chocolate and lemon. And he would go outside and ride horses. They were white like his hair. They would run and run. The wind would blow in his face. It was like he was flying. . .”

Draco held the boy tight and let himself fall away into the painfully beautiful story where Draco was a prince.

xXx

The door to the Hold opened and Draco tensed in wretched anticipation. It had been a few days since the Master had made him bring kids up. He knew it would happen soon. The food tray was placed on the top step and the door shut again. Draco relaxed and looked over at Harry with a smile.

“Wanna help?”

The boy flashed a wide smile. “Can I really?” he asked. He was always so eager to be helpful.

“Don’t talk to them. Jus’ follow me.”

“Yes, Draco.”

Satisfied, feeling strong and invincible under the little boy’s trusting gaze, he stood, naked and dirty, and made his way up the stairs for the tray at the top. He brought it down and put it in Harry's arms. The little boy was stick-thin, and he almost couldn’t manage the wide tray, but the kid was stubborn. He had Harry put their portion over in their corner and bring it back. It was the Angel's turn for the tray.

“I want my mommy,” a girl sobbed weakly. She’d been brought in the same day as Harry and was still weepy over her capture. She was a year or two older than Draco, maybe seven.

Draco gestured for his charge to put the tray down on the floor before the small group of kids. “Eat quick,” he ordered them, unmoved by the emotional plea.

The blondes scrambled for the bottles of water, bread, cheese, beef jerky, and apples. The newest girl didn’t move. She just sat there and continued to cry.

“Don’t cry,” he snapped harshly. “No one’s gonna help you here. Eat. You won’t get more for a long time.”

Harry smiled at the girl and picked up a piece of bread. Draco knew this would end badly, but he let the kid continue so that Draco could prove a point. Seeing that she was getting attention, her cries grew louder. She made no move to take the offering. His charge tried again. Again, she began to cry louder, and now other kids from the other groups were crying, too. The sound began to rise and Draco quickly intervened.

He slapped Harry’s hand with a glare, making him drop the bread. “Leave her alone. If she wants to eat, she’ll get it herself!” He said this last with a fierce look at the girl who had started it all before looking back at Harry.

The boy looked devastated. “Sorry,” Harry whispered and backed away until he was practically behind Draco.

The other children, those who’d been there longer, eyed the food. When the crying girl made no move to grab her share, little hands snaked out and stole it from her. Draco let them. He picked up the empty tray and carried it to the top of the stairs before coming back down.

He glared at any of the crying children and made sure none of them were outside the designated areas he’d created before making his way to his private corner. His charge sat with his knees pulled to his chest. His eyes were wet as he stared up at him. Draco sighed and settled next to him, pulling both their blankets around their shoulders to keep out the damp cold.

“You don’t help ‘em by being nice,” he explained softly.

“I’m sorry,” the boy answered miserably. “Don’t be mad at me.”

He reached over and grabbed the little boy’s jaw with firm fingers, forcing the green eyes to meet his own. “Did I say I was mad?”

“No,” the boy said softly, eyes bright with the hope of forgiveness.

Draco nodded and let him go. “Look, the people here aren’t gonna be nice to ‘em. They need to understand that quick. Get it?”

Harry stared at him as if he had all the answers. It made Draco feel good. “I won’t do it again.”

Draco shrugged. “You don’t have to be mean like me. It’s not your job to take care of ‘em. It’s mine. Jus’ ignore them.”

“Okay,” the boy whispered even softer.

Draco gently wrapped his arms around the little boy. “Don't worry. I'll take care of ya.”

The boy tilted his head back to look up at Draco and his eyes shimmered with something that made Draco hold his breath. “Love you, Draco,” the boy whispered softly.

Draco looked away, holding to Harry tightly. Tears burned his eyes. No one had loved him in a very long time. Draco almost didn’t remember what it felt like. It burned his chest and made his skin tingle. They sat quietly together as Draco stroked his charge’s soft hair, absorbing the boy’s unconditional warmth and trust. It was the most wonderful thing he’d ever experienced in his hard life.

The Hold door opened and the Master stood framed, his long shadow falling on the frightened children. “Draco, bring the boy.”

Draco felt his stomach drop. Harry's adoptive parents were ready and he still didn't have a plan. He didn't really want to keep Harry in the Hold, but who was going to look out for the kid? Harry stood out in the darkness. Monsters would always target him. And what about what Draco had seen? Something bad was waiting for Harry. Who would protect Harry from that? Draco felt sick, but he knew better than to let any of it show. He'd long ago learned to mask what he felt. So with only a slight tremble in his hands, he grabbed Harry and towed him toward the stairs.

Both naked, they climbed the stairs and walked behind the Master down a narrow hallway. The ship swayed underneath their feet. The Master opened the last door by another set of stairs. The room was brightly lit with a huge window open to allow light and air in. A man and a woman were waiting there, and one gestured Harry further into the room. However, they weren't adoptive parents. Draco knew them very well. They helped the Master with cataloguing.

Numbly, Draco towed the boy over to the bucket. If those two were here, then something had gone very, very wrong. Draco desperately avoided making eye contact with his charge as he carefully washed all the dirt and grime from the soft skin. When that was done, he backed away. His charge was taken out of reach and told to stand on the table.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing…” the man remarked absently as he worked his camera, taking pictures of the naked boy.

Harry was pretty, Draco supposed. He had thick dark hair that stuck up messily. Dark eyebrows and equally dark lashes that framed large, crystal green eyes. He had light skin a few shades darker than Draco's white, and he had no freckles. Harry blushed easily, as he was doing now. His mouth was small, but he had full lips. The only thing wrong with the kid was the way his bones stood out. Harry was like those running dogs, all knees, ribs, and elbows, and some sickos liked that starved look.

A knot of pure dread sharply twisted Draco’s insides.

“You’re a cutie,” the woman cooed. Her hand slapped the little boy hard on the butt twice, making him whimper and look to Draco for reassurance. “There. Put more color on you.”

Draco had none to give. He wanted so badly to cover the boy, keep him safe, but he was too scared to move. The Master was right behind him, making suggestions so they could get a good picture for the catalogue. What had happened? Harry was meant to be adopted. Why was he going into the catalogues for people who were looking to buy toys?

I have to be strong, he mentally chanted his mantra, his whole body trembling with the repressed urge to rescue his boy. This was the kid who’d taken away his pain, the only one to ever love him. He belonged to Draco now.

“Smile, kid.”

The green-eyed boy looked carefully into the round glass end and smiled his biggest smile.

Draco felt gutted. He'd never seen such a beautiful smile and it would be smashed by these bastards.

“Draco.” The Master placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”

Draco quickly masked his expression. The Master couldn’t become suspicious. It would be the worst thing that could happen. So he bowed his head and nodded.

“Draco?” Harry cried out fearfully.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do – and he’d had to do some very hard things – but Draco left without looking back. He felt numb, his mind retreating as he was led to his Master’s bedroom. The door shut behind him. The bed loomed before him.

“Go stand in the corner. Bend over and touch your toes.”

Draco moved forward like a robot, like he was walking through fog. He faced the wall and bent over, his mouth and chin touching his knees; Master had made sure he was flexible. The man came up behind him and pressed him forward until he was on his toes, his back leaning against the wall, his head hanging upside down an inch off the ground. His feet were pressed outward. His ass was on display, his hole pointing almost straight up.

Draco was hyperventilating now. He hated these fucking games. It wasn’t enough that the bastard beat and tortured him for his own sick pleasure; he was going to rape him now. And the fucker was smart. He’d learned that if he penetrated Draco in any way with any part of his body, it would make him sick, so the bastard used objects to do it for him or just rutted against his skin.

Raymond grinned down at the little boy. He'd been in this business for almost thirty years, and Draco was the first kid to last a year. And miracle of miracles, the kid wasn't broken yet. No matter how much he was beaten, fucked with toys, degraded, or denied medical care, Draco was not broken. They could actually manage a cargo of thirty with Draco onboard to keep things running smoothly. The child was a gift. He smiled evilly. A gift in more ways than one.

Draco was a gorgeous kid. All lean hard lines. White blond hair that shone in the low lighting. Pale skin gorgeously decorated with scars, bruises, and welts. He was especially gorgeous now. His little legs spread as he leaned forward against the wall, bent in half. His little ass was in the air, that raw hole positioned for him to violate. They boy's heels were off the ground as he rested on his toes slightly. The arch in his small pale feet was so perfectly delicate. Those slender arms wrapped around those legs and hooked around the boy's calves to hold himself in position.

Raymond had the perfect view of Draco's face, upside down, the eyes dead as Draco sank into subspace. He was so well trained, his Draco. Grinning with pleasure, Raymond picked up a candle he had specially designed for this moment. It was a deep red. The color he loved to paint on the boy's skin. The bottom of the candle was about an inch thick and it slowly widened until it was two and a half inches wide at the top. There was a thick wick sticking out ready to light.

“It’s your birthday, Draco. Did you know?” he asked. His free hand rubbed across Draco's smooth ass. He was tempted to finger the boy open, but he knew better. “Been here a year and you haven't killed me yet. Maybe you secretly love being my slut, is that it?”

He made a short stab downward with the candle. It penetrated Draco shallowly, spreading the boy's hole. The boy gasped out a sharp, “Fuck!” Raymond laughed. He jiggled the candle. About an inch in and five more to go. He knew it had to sting. He'd used no lube.

“Next year, how about I use two?” Raymond asked evilly. “Or maybe we can use two now? One to grow on.”

Pain spasmed through Draco's body at being stretched so wide without lube or preparation. The thought of two of whatever was in his ass made him sick with dread. Would Master kill him this time? Cold fear clawed through him even as Master worked the thing in deeper, fucking him with it.

“You’re such a pleasure to play with,” Master practically purred. “Bent over like the slut you are. Your face all flushed, your mouth gaping open, your little ass being split open by my toys.”

Draco bit his lip and refused to make any more sounds to get the bastard off. The hard thing pushed in and dragged out slowly. Master was in a good mood today. He was playing with him, laughing. Each time the thing pressed in, it went deeper. Soon Draco felt the pressure in his gut. He felt himself start to bleed. His body rocked hard against the wall now on every inward push.

“Such a pretty slut,” Master praised and slapped him hard on the ass, jolting whatever was buried deep in Draco's body.

Raymond admired the boy as Draco's skin flushed a gorgeous pink where he'd hit him. The skin around Draco's hole went white as it was stretched wider and wider open, small tears appeared in the rim as it stretched too far, the candle getting thicker as he pulled it out and pressed it down. Four inches in, two left sticking out of the boy's hole; the candle stretching the small entrance two inches wide.

Blood now. Up and pressing down, turning it. The boy was moaning through the pain. Draco's arms were shaking as he practically clung to his own legs. Chuckling, Raymond bent forward and bit the boy viciously on the ass cheek hard enough to leave bloody teeth marks. Draco barked a scream, but he hadn't moved an inch.

“Good boy. Ready to make a wish, slave?”

Draco's eyes widened in horror as he heard a match light. Not fire play! It always hurt so badly and he always got fevers while healing the awful burns. Helpless to stop it, he began to cry. He almost couldn’t believe it when he heard a hard puff of air and smelt smoke as the match was blown out. Master hadn’t burned him!

A large hand soothed down his trembling ass and thigh. “I’ll be back, boy. If I see you’ve moved an inch, I’ll get out the branding iron.”

Draco shuddered. Nothing was as bad as that, and he resolved to hold still. He watched as Master’s feet left him. The door opened and closed, and then Draco was alone. He held his position, his calves burning from having to stay on his toes. Slowly, he started to sink his heels down, his tendons stretching the longer he stood folded in half against the wall.

Something hot dripped down his crack. Draco yelped and jerked. He gasped, eyes wide. The bastard had shoved a candle into his asshole and lit it! The hot wax was melting onto his skin. Biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed, Draco closed his eyes in horror. Pain seared his nerves as the burning hot wax dripped down over sensitive skin and over his genitals. He sobbed and yelped as the pain slowly grew worse, the soft skin beginning to blister.

“Oh god,” he moaned. His hands slapped down on the floor. His body jerked, trying to come to a standing position, but he forced himself to hold. The brand killed some kids. Draco hated every mark on his body. The thought of an ugly, gruesome brand on his face or chest or anywhere else sickened him.

More wax splashed and burned.

Draco screamed.

An hour later, Raymond slipped into the room and stared hungrily. Draco was still bent, but he was no longer in half. His back made a flat table. His hands pressed into the wall and beat at it helplessly as he tried to hold position. The small genitals, ass, and thighs were covered in hot melted wax, and the candle was flickering between the boy's cheeks, actually burning and blistering the skin of his hole.

“Position!” Raymond barked and laughed as Draco instantly folded in half again. The boy's legs were spasming from the pain and collapsed under the kid. Raymond crossed the room and kicked the boy in the ass, shoving the candle deeper and putting it out.

Draco went to his knees, back arched sharply as he clawed at the wall, mad with pain and incoherent. Raymond roughly pulled him up to his feet and flung him toward the bed. The boy hit the side and bounced off, crumpling to the ground. Raymond grabbed him by the hair and flung him face first onto the mattress. Viciously he kneed those pale legs open. His big, tanned hands spread the boy's cheeks to see that the red wax was still soft around the blistered hole.

“That's my, slut,” Raymond groaned and took his cock out. He pressed into the moist wax and heat between those cheeks, used his hands to close them tight to make a channel, and started to thrust.

“Nooo,” Draco moaned, clawing desperately at the sheets. His hair was soaked, fanning across the red sheets, his face pale with a feverish flush, his bright with agony. “Please, no more, please. . .” he sobbed brokenly.

“That's it. Tell me how much it hurts.” Raymond laughed and fucked between the boy's cheeks harder, faster. He couldn't take his eyes off his dark purple cock head rubbing against the boy's lily-white back on every hard snap forward of his hips. “Oh fuck yeah, boy. Such a good slut.”

Draco was near wailing, his high piping voice filling the room, a song of agony, as he fucked against him. Raymond stared entranced at the blood that coated the boy's ass, thighs and lower back, was fascinated by the wax and blood on his hard cock. He came in an explosion of cum that splashed up the boy's back and hit the back of his head. Raymond collapsed next to the small boy, panting and grinning. Oh yeah, this had been a great idea.

After a few minutes, he gathered himself enough to wipe his messy cock down with the sheets. “I'd stay with you tonight, slut, but I have a major deal going down. Back to the Hold you go!”

Draco was unconscious. Humming, Raymond took the boy by the upper arm. He dragged him from the room, down the hall, and literally threw him down the stairs. He tossed the disinfectant in after him. It had been a good day. The adoption deal may have collapsed, but he'd get a fortune for the pretty, doe-eyed Brat. He'd had such a sweet look to him, and his eyes were a rare shade of green. Better yet, he'd gotten to paint his slut's skin red and fuck him until he was unconscious. Yes, it had been a very good day.

xXx

Harry sat huddled with his knees to his chest. His eyes were huge as he stared up at the door. Draco was not there. He'd gone with a big bearded man. He'd left Harry. Was he coming back? Was he being hurt? Harry rocked back and forth, terrified of a world without Draco in it. The other kids glared over at him hatefully and he hunched down further. Suddenly, the door opened. Harry stared in wide-eyed horror as Draco was flung down the steps.

The door slammed shut. Harry hurried over to see Draco completely limp. There was blood and dried white stuff. Worse, there was a weird, hard coating on Draco, too. Harry tried to drag him to the corner. It was hard. Draco was heavier than him. He didn't wake up at all during the whole thing. Harry's heart beat rapidly. Was Draco okay?

Desperately, Harry got Draco on his stomach on a blanket. He started to scratch and peel off the hard stuff and clean off the blood. He worked obsessively. He wanted Draco's skin clean! If Draco was clean, maybe he'd wake up.

“Once the wax is off, you're supposed to lick the rest, might as well learn now, ” a low voice said.

Harry turned to look at one of the older children. The Pet stared at Harry with dead brown eyes, and Harry flinched, looking back down at the mess on Draco's back and butt. He cringed at the idea of putting his mouth on Draco's skin. What if he made Draco dirtier? But some small part of him really wanted to be that close to Draco.

“It won't get better if you don't lick it.”

There was something mean in the other kid's voice, but Harry believed him. Draco lay completely limp. He was really hurt! If Harry could fix him, then he had to try!

Slowly, Harry went to his hands and knees over Draco's body. He stared down at the pale skin and gently bent his arms until he was right above that soft skin. His lips parted. Just as his tongue was about to touch his friend, Harry's eye slid shut. The crust and blood on Draco tasted weird, but the soft warmness of his skin made Harry tingle. His arms shook and his heart punched in his chest steadily quicker.

He ran his tongue in slow laps from the small of Draco's back up along the spine. Warm licks across Draco's shoulder blades, up the back of his neck. Inch by inch, Draco's skin was cleaned, made perfect again. Harry was panting at this point. Tears dripped slowly down his cheeks to further moisten Draco's skin.

Draco rode the waves of pain, red and white screaming through his brain. Then something cool touched him. It stroked over his skin, casting the red and white away, putting out the fires of agony. Inch by inch, he became aware of relief. Until he was staring at the wall in the Hold and knew it was his Harry who was touching him, healing him. He held his breath, desperate for Harry to keep going. It hurt so much deep inside and on his skin. He just wanted to stop hurting. Moaning, he felt tears finally spill over until he was crying softly.

Harry echoed Draco's moan. Everything disappeared except for this moment, the feel of Draco against his tongue, the sharp salty taste of the white, the almost metal flavor of blood, the Draco-ness of every swipe of clean skin. Harry's tears spilled faster, filling with love for the boy under him.

“Draco. . . Draco. . .” His boy's high, soft voice whispered against the skin of Draco's neck, his shoulders. Until the boy was gone from him. Gentle hands touched his butt and Draco opened his mouth to scream when that warm healing mouth lapped in fast little strokes over the bleeding bite mark. The scream became a gasp.

Draco pressed his forehead into the rough wood of the hold. His hands twisted the blanket under him. Pleasure like he'd never known rushed through him. It curled in his gut and shot up his spine into his nipples.

Harry stopped, his breathing rough and uneven, “Draco?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Draco rasped, “Don't stop.”

Horrified over what he'd just asked his boy to do, Draco pushed up onto all fours to get away, but then Harry's little hands were on his hips and that mouth was back, erasing the Master's teeth from his skin. Draco arched, his head thrown back, as he gave a soft cry. Hot tingling heat sizzled through every nerve and Draco never wanted it to stop.

Harry licked and licked and watched as magic happened. Draco asked him to keep going! He wasn't mad his mouth was on him. He didn't think Harry was dirty! He wanted more! Heart singing, amazed as the blood and wounds disappeared under his tongue, Harry moved to the trail of blood coming from Draco's hole. He reached forward, sliding his hands along perfect skin, and he spread the cheeks. There it was. Bleeding a steady trickle. It was red and slightly open, hurt. Harry pressed forward and licked a long, slow stripe from the blistered privates to up past the hole.

Draco collapsed to his forearms, his ass still up and open, and gave a low ringing cry. He was panting, covered in sweat. Harry's tongue touched everywhere. It dipped inside him again and again, stroked along the rim in hot swipes. Draco's thighs trembled as he slid them wider. Harry took the invitation to press deliciously closer.

Pet watched the two boys. The little blond master was on his knees spread wide, his chest pressed to the floor, his hands in tight fists slightly over his head. His usually cold grey eyes were wide and bright, his mouth hanging open. Red flushed his cheeks as he began to glisten with sweat. His small hips were rocking back onto the face of the slightly smaller sub boy. The dark haired one was also on his knees. Naked and sweating, he was bent slightly forward, his face buried in the little master's ass. His hands visibly trembled where they clung to the Master's small, boyish hips.

Neither of them could be older than five, the dark-haired one could be as young as four, and yet they made even Pet's blood heat with lust. Pet watched with utter hatred, but he was unable to look away from the sensual sight. He had wanted revenge. Wanted to see the little master scream at being touched like that, to see him beat the little boy, but instead they were moaning and making whimpering cries of pleasure. Pet hated them.

As the blisters disappeared, Harry drank in Draco's cries and gasps, shivered at every low moan. He focused solely on the little hole. Slithering inside, Harry's tongue licked and rubbed at every cut. He circled the opening, sucked gently. He clung to Draco's hips as the hurt boy made a keening sound that went straight through Harry. He was making Draco feel good! He wished he could go on forever, but his vision began to darken. Suddenly, he couldn't feel his hands. Just as Draco gave the loudest cry yet, Harry felt himself go limp, barely conscious.

Something powerful washed over Draco, turning his vision black. He lost all sense of time and self. He existed in a surging pool of pleasure until the throbbing slowed and he was able to think and breathe again. He was lying on his side, Harry silent and no longer touching him. With shock, he realized Harry had just eaten him out and he'd just cum for the first time.

With a shaking hand, Draco reached between his legs, but he was dry and soft. Confused, he rolled onto his back and pulled Harry up to him by the hair. The boy's eyes were blown open, pupils large, but he wasn't tracking. He stared blindly with a huge smile on his face. Harry looked pale and thinner, if that was possible. Draco was speechless, still tingling with aftermath.

“Draco. . . love you. . .” Harry mumbled before going utterly limp, unconscious.

Draco stroked the dark hair under his chin, just basking in the feeling of being warm and safe. He felt perfect except for the uncomfortable pressure pushing on his insides. Draco held Harry to his chest as he rolled slightly onto his side. He reached back to his butt and opened himself with his fingers. It felt fine now. No pain at all. He smiled sleepily.

Slowly pushing as if he had to poop, he stayed nice and relaxed. Soon he felt the candle head. He pushed one last time, got his nails in the wax and pulled it from his body. It came out with a squelch. His ass throbbed lightly, and he threw the disgusting thing into a shadowed corner. Draco had never felt so good in his life. Grinning, he held the boy close and fell asleep.

Chapter End
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Freedom Bound in Chains