FIC: Draco's Kidnappers (Draco/OMCs, Draco/Harry), Part 2/2

[plotting-pen.livejournal.com]

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Draco stares at his body in the mirror. He is naked, fresh out of the shower. The room is warm enough that his body stays flushed, though his hair is already beginning to dry, tendrils of it curling around the nape of his neck.

At sixteen, he is turning out rather handsomely. Father’s always said Draco looks just like the person who gave birth to him, from his wispy blond hair to the tip of his pale, slender toes. When he blushes, he looks just like a white rose unfurling in its first bloom. It used to embarrass Draco to no end, until one day he saw Harry absently nodding along with his father’s comment, and all Draco could do was try not to blush too obviously.

He does turn red quite easily, Draco thinks as he gazes in the mirror. He runs a hand lightly down his chest, stopping short his pelvis, letting his fingers brush against the small nest of blond hair above his soft, pink cock.

Draco has no illusions as to how gorgeous people find him.

Moonlight and roses, Harry once described a whore, all the while gazing at Draco with an expression that Draco wasn’t experienced enough to understand. Draco isn’t sure he does, even now. But then again, he is only sixteen.

From the corner of his eye, Draco catches a glimpse of the book that his father gave him earlier that day. He had to dust it off before he was able to read it properly without his eyes watering up from the dust.

Now, it lies on the table, half open to the chapter he’s read so many times the words have practically burned themselves behind his eyes.

Alphas and Beta aside, one must remember the rarest one of their kind, the Omega. On the hierarchy, they are inferior to the Alphas and Betas. However, the special gift with which they are blessed cannot be brushed aside despite their cast within the clan.

Since the beginning of time, Omegas have been males. Paleontologists have found fossils dating back at least a thousand years that show credible evidence to indicate that the first pair of werewolves was an Alpha male and an Omega, given their relative size and general anatomy. In a society without a female, the Omegas alone possessed the ability to fertilize and produce about four werewolves or more for every heat cycle, as long as there was an Alpha or Beta to mate with them. Over time, however, females (both Alphas and Betas), presumed to be a mutation of the Omega, were born (refer to Chapter IX, pp. 450).

Omegas are instinctively receptive to the other males’ pheromones, especially for the duration of their heat cycle. Their bodies are responsive, and not only on a physical level. During this period, which can last for a few days to a fortnight, an Omega will release a hormone that primes his body for fertilization. This particular hormone will also act as an aphrodisiac for the Omega, facilitating his receptiveness to the Alpha or Beta male and their response in turn. However, given the nature of the beast, the Omega’s pheromones tend to be produced in a higher quantity in the presence of an Alpha, and vice versa. This, if presumed from the perspective of a Darwinist, serves as a catalyst to ensure offspring will be born with the superior genes. Indeed, there has never been a documented case of an Omega producing a Beta werewolf. The majority will turn out to be Alphas, and these are comparatively much larger in size and more aggressive than those produced by a female bitch.

The one thing that separates the Omega from the females, and indeed makes them irresistible to the other werewolves, is the fact that only an Omega can produce another Omega. To be bred by a male bitch, the offspring are considered purebred and will very likely end up leading the pack without question or contention from the other members of the pack. This, perhaps, is the reason they are sought after to the point that there have been reports of wars breaking out between packs just to gain possession of one. It is also the reason why many of the already small number of Omegas have gone into hiding, although it is extremely difficult for them to do so.

Omegas cannot hold relationships with a regular human given their aggressive heat cycles, and because of that, most Omegas end up getting discovered while in heat by a werewolf male who picks up their scent. Once an Alpha or Beta recognizes an Omega in heat, their body become imprisoned to the scent of the Omega and will not stop copulating with the male bitch until either the Omega has worn the male out, or he himself has become impregnated.

Draco puts a hand over his belly – flat, defined with muscles thanks to the hours that Harry works him every day – and presses in lightly. This is why Harry has always impressed upon Draco that he must never let anyone come inside him. Not only is he a werewolf, he’s also considered, in every aspect, a male bitch.

Somehow, Draco thinks humorlessly, this makes him desirable to everyone of his race except Harry.

-

Scar turns out to be the last one to break. Draco figured he would, despite the evident hatred the man has for Draco’s father, and, by default, Draco. But Draco has never met an Alpha who doesn’t want to fuck him, and Scar, no matter how much he might hate Draco, obviously wants to very much.

Scar comes into his room in the middle of the night, when Draco is finally asleep for the first time in four days, his ass plugged up and full of come.

Keep it there until I come back, Black had whispered before shoving the butt plug into him. Draco had curled into the new sheets, too fucked out and sated to do more than nod.

Now he senses Scar’s hand hovering over his ass, hesitant, wavering between taking what he wants and walking away. Draco can’t risk that. With one smooth motion he shifts and raises his ass so that Scar’s fingers skim over the base of the butt plug. He hears a startled ”Fuck” and then Scar is climbing onto the bed, taking Draco by his hips and pulling him backward until his ass is pressed up against Scar’s confined, but very evident, erection.

Draco moans softly, twisting until he’s on his knees and elbows with his head resting against the crook of his arm.

In the darkness, he hears Scar whisper, “You really want this.”

It’s not a question, but Draco replies anyway, arching his back a little more and moaning as sweetly as he knows how. “Yes, yes please –“

“Fuck,” Scar utters, and then for a moment it’s just the sound of Scar unzipping his trousers and Draco’s heart thumping like a nervous little bird in his chest.

By the time Draco feels Scar’s cock slapping against one of his ass cheeks, Draco is so eager he’s practically vibrating. Scar traces a finger around the rim of his hole, and then tugs gently at the plug. The easy pressure, coupled with Draco’s own anticipation, release tiny little whines from Draco’s mouth.

“That perverted fucker,” Scar mutters, pulling harder on the plug. Draco gasps, clawing at the sheets, torn between wanting it inside him and knowing Scar has something much, much better to offer.

“Please, please,” Draco says breathlessly, pushing back and trying pull his knees up to his stomach all at once, desperate for some sort of friction against his hard, weeping cock.

“What do you want? Tell me,” Scar growls, urging forward until Draco can feel the long, hard length of his cock on his skin. Draco squirms, his body undulating, needy but his mouth can’t form the right words, can only sputter useless little noises and harsh, desperate moans.

“Draco, tell me,” Scar presses, taking hold of the butt plug again and pulling at it even more insistently now.

“You, your cock, oh god please just give it to me, put your cock inside me, make me feel it I need it please. Please please –” The words fall out of his mouth in a rush, until Draco isn’t aware of what he’s saying any more, until all he’s left with is this all-consuming knowledge that Scar has to fuck him. Now.

And the man doesn’t disappoint. With a low, feral growl he pulls the butt plug out of Draco’s ass in a quick motion, leaving Draco screaming at the gaping emptiness. It doesn’t last long, because soon Scar’s fingers are in his ass, making a wet-slick sound as they slide in and then out, as if checking to see how ready Draco is, if he can just push inside without any preparation and still won’t hurt either one of them.

“Fuck, you’re so hot and wet inside,” Scar rasps, breathless and hoarse as if he has no breath left in him. Draco glances back over his shoulder. In the slivers of moonlight he can see the man’s face, wild, unhinged, as if his mind’s halfway turned to wolf and all he can do is keep himself from tearing into Draco with his cock, his teeth, his fingers.

Scar could actually kill him, Draco realizes, for the very first time seeing how huge the man actually is. He has to be at least six foot five, broader around the shoulders than even his Harry, with bulging biceps and a thick torso. When Draco looks down, he finds himself involuntarily pulling away.

“You’re – you’re huge,” he says rather stupidly, turning onto his back and staring at Scar’s cock. He has never seen anyone so… big.

Scar snarls, grabbing Draco’s thighs and tugging him forward until his legs are resting on the man’s thighs. Set against Scar’s size, Draco feels like a miniature version of himself. His cock leaks at the thought, but his brain, what’s left of it, is screaming at him to run before he’s split in half.

Scar takes hold of his cock and positions it at Draco’s entrance.

Draco has only a moment to utter, “Don’t –“ before he’s impaled by something that feels more like a fist than a cock.

Draco clenches up, shaking and sobbing and scratching at Scar’s chest. It hurts so badly he won’t be able to take it, it’s going to break him…

“Draco, breathe,” Scar says, pushing Draco’s hair back from his forehead and forcing him to look into his eyes.

“You’re hurting me,” Draco sobs pathetically, unable to look at Scar and not fall apart because Christ he looks exactly like Harry, from the worried frown to the way he bites his lower lip in concern. This man is a kidnapper, not Harry, Draco reminds himself, though the thought is not very convincing in his half-lucid, half-fucked state.

“You need to breathe,” Scar instructs, surprisingly gentle for a man who had only moments ago looked about ready to tear him apart. “I’m not even completely inside.”

Draco nods, surprising himself when he sees that he’s still rock hard. It helps that Scar has wrapped a hand around Draco’s cock and is stroking it in tandem with the slow breaths Draco’s forcing himself to take.

Slowly, he feels himself relax, allowing Scar to inch inside, opening him up little by little, until finally, holy fucking hell finally, Draco’s ass is nestled against Scar’s pelvis.

“There,” Scar says softly, “ that wasn't so hard.”

Draco circles his hips, testing, and gives an awed little moan when Scar’s cock rubs against his prostate. The sudden and possibly coincidental action sets his entire body alight with electricity and fireworks.

“Fuck me, fuck me now,” Draco urges frantically, digging the heels of his feet into Scar’s ass.

Scar smiles, wolfish, and does so.

For a while the room is filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans and the creaking of the bed. Draco wants to keep up, to push back, feeling almost drunk from the sensation of Scar’s cock so wide and deep up in him, but Scar sets a pace that leaves Draco too weak and slow to do more than just hang on and let the man fuck him and fuck him and hold him down, so violently Draco is sure he will have large bruises on his hips and ass tomorrow.

Draco’s arms wind around Scar’s neck, his fingers splayed against the bunched up flesh there, only registering for a second how far that scar runs before he arches off the bed and comes all over his and Scar’s chest. Draco lets go and squeezes his cock until the last drop drips down to his stomach, and still his body wants more, wants more of Scar’s cock hammering into his greedy hole, more of it fucking him and branding him and making sure Draco’s body remembers the size and shape of it.

Draco’s body is oversensitized, beginning to hurt post-orgasm but he’s still reluctant for Scar to stop when it’s hurting so good. It seems he doesn’t have to say anything, because in another moment Scar’s thrusts lose their rhythm, his hips jerking without finesse or control.

Draco pushes at him, tensing up. “Don’t come inside,” Draco manages to choke out.

Scar isn’t like Skin or Black, he doesn’t have an issue with pulling out and jerking himself off until he’s shooting all over Draco’s chest, over Draco’s face. Draco opens his mouth when Scar feeds him his cock, sucking at the head and swallowing what’s left of his orgasm, not caring where it’s been before.

When Scar’s done, he lies down next to Draco and pulls him close. After a while, Draco has to ask, “Why do you have that scar on your back?”

Scar grunts. “The ceiling fell on me when I tried to get my daughter out of the fire your dad set to my house. Now shut up and rest, we’re not done just yet.”

-

Draco’s kidnappers seem to be quite taken by him, Draco thinks on a cool afternoon that might’ve been the third or seventh day into his captivity, while Skin is fucking his face, deeply and deliberately in opposition to the way his fingers brush tenderly across Draco’s cheeks. Black and Scar have come into the room some time ago, and from the glazed way they are staring at the two of them, Draco suspects they smelled the stench of sex and came seeking the source.

Him.

The thought should terrify him, but it doesn’t. If anything, Draco is more turned on by the thought of three Alphas surrounding him, wanting him, needing him. Father was right. Draco has incredible control over men who are inherently more powerful than him. It’s validating and empowering to find proof here, in the unlikeliest of places, from those who wear the face of a man he’s been in love with since he was eight.

Frankly, Draco thinks, he could be in a much, much worse situation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Skin gasps, hardly sparing his friends a glance, too busy staring at the way Draco’s red lips are wrapped around his cock, the way Draco’s eyes are watering from the limited amount of oxygen he’s allowed.

Draco utters a surprised noise around Skin’s cock when he feels hands on his thighs, sliding up until one wraps around his leaking cock. Draco jerks up, pulling away to utter a strangled, high pitched moan, his body vibrating and his hair standing up in response to the masculine scent emanating from the Alphas. Their pheromones are thick in the air, choking Draco and turning him blind with lust.

“Helping you out,” Black replies, his eyes already turning yellow as he watches Draco. Slowly, he takes off his shirt. “Draco doesn’t mind, do you, dear?”

Draco sucks in a breath and arches forward when Black’s fingers graze one of his nipples and pinch, hard. It doesn’t stop there, because as Draco’s reeling from the too good feeling of having his nipples played with, he feels a hand on his ass, and then a slick finger sliding into his hole in a smooth and effortless glide.

“Shit!” Draco shouts, his body arching in response to the multiple stimuli coming from all directions.

Skin tucks a stray hair behind Draco’s ear and smears pre-come on Draco’s lips, letting Draco’s tongue dart out to catch some from the tip of his cock, his eyes never wavering from Draco’s face. Draco can’t hold his gaze for too long, distracted by Black moving to the top of the bed and rubbing both of Draco’s nipples with his very warm, very dexterous hands in a slow and firm motion. All the while, Draco has to resist coming too soon from Scar’s fingers – two now – insistently pressing against his prostate as if attempting to make him come untouched.

“How should we do this?” Black drawls, looking at Skin, continuing to roll Draco’s nipples between his fingers until they’re hard peaks and so sensitive Draco’s whimpering from it. “Are you going to fuck his face? I’m rather fond of his pretty lips, though.”

“I’m going to fuck his ass,” Scar grunts, adding another finger and spreading them. Draco can feel how wet he is, can hear the squish-squish sound of Scar’s fingers working inside him, opening him wider than he already is. At this rate, Scar can stuff his hand up there and Draco thinks he’ll love him for it.

“What do you want, Draco?” Skin asks, pulling his cock out of Draco’s mouth long enough for Draco to register the fact that they’re actually waiting for him to answer. It’s difficult to concentrate, as Scar has just slipped his pinky into Draco’s ass, totaling four fingers and Draco thinks he’s going to scream from the pain and the pleasure and the need for Scar to move them and open him up and just put his entire hand –

“Draco, darling, focus,” Skin says, pulling him back gently.

“I –” Draco licks his lips, tries again, “I want you to fuck me.” Draco is looking straight at Skin when he says it. The other man sucks in a deep breath, smiling at Draco as if saying good boy.

“I’ll fuck you,” Skin confirms, and then adds, “and he–” he jerks his head at Black, “will fuck you after. Would you like that, darling? Me fucking you, shoving my come in your ass and making you wet for him?”

Draco whines at the image, distracted and horny and therefore completely missing the glint in Skin’s eyes when he says, “Or would you rather we both fuck you at the same time? Stretch you out on our cocks, split you open? Would you like that?”

Draco can’t even form words, but Skin doesn’t need an affirmation when Draco’s spurting come everywhere in response and moaning like a needy little whore.

“Shit, he really likes that,” Black says, almost wonderingly. “That turns you on, pet? The thought of having two cocks in you at the same time, fucking you until you scream?”

Draco whines, his ass clenching around Scar’s fingers helplessly. Their cocks, yes, they’re big, bigger than Scar’s four fingers, and just the thought of having both of them inside him turns him on so badly he feels himself stirring again, already.

“He’s hard again,” Scar says, pulling his fingers out and causing Draco to mewl in protest. “So I suppose I’ll be fucking his mouth then.”

“Great plan,” Black claps his hands and drags Draco up until he’s lying against his chest. Scar and Skin switch place, so that when Draco looks up, it’s Harry’s face and Scar’s body that are in front of him.

“Hi sweetheart,” Scar says by ways of hello. Somehow he found time between fingering Draco and coming up with a plan to fuck him to take off his clothes. “Wanna suck me off?”

Draco smiles at him, somewhat dopily in the post-orgasmic haze, and wraps one hand around Scar’s cock, admiring the way his fingers won’t quite touch. Before he can do much about it, though, Skin penetrates him with four fingers all at once. They’re not as thick as Scar’s, but it’s still sudden, still hurts, and Draco gives a strangled moan at the sharp ache.

“Can you take it if I put my fist in you, Draco?” Skin asks contemplatively, rubbing the rim of Draco’s ass with his thumb as he speaks. “It’s not as big as both our cocks combined, promise.”

“Oh god,” Draco gasps hoarsely, clutching at Black’s arms as if his life depends on it. His toes curl. Instinctively he spreads his legs wider.

“Oh pet, you are a dream,” Black says into his ear, practically giddy. “Do it, I’ll keep watch to make sure he’s okay.”

Draco feels Skin wipe his fingers across his stomach, collecting some semen before shoving them into Draco’s ass. Skin’s thumb is still rubbing at his hole, pressing gently, applying pressure a little bit at a time, until Draco’s shaking with it, tilting his hips and begging for more.

And then Skin is pushing, more insistently this time, purposely trying to get past the first ring of muscles, and all Draco can think is it won’t fit it won’t fit and then his body just… gives and there, Skin’s entire hand is inside him.

“Fuck, Draco, look at how amazing you are,” Skin says, his voice full of pride and affection. Draco doesn’t understand why, cannot be bothered to think deeply about it at the moment, but his entire body relaxes at the compliment, going pliant and sweet in Black’s arms.

Scar has moved aside so the three of them can take a look at where Skin and Draco are joined together. Black is grinding his hips into Draco’s lower back, his cock slick from pre-come and making it easier to rub against Draco. On his side, Scar is wanking himself slowly, enraptured.

Draco, for his part, can only close his eyes and try not to come again from the overwhelming sensation of having someone’s hand in his ass. He can feel everything, every knuckle brushing against his internal passage, every shift of a finger, the turn of the wrist. It hurts – of course it hurts – but more than that, it makes Draco burn with pleasure, relieving that awful, nagging ache inside that has become such a part of his life every time the heat cycle strikes.

And Skin, the man sure knows how to work his hand, slowly curling so it turns into a fist, pressing in deeper all the while rubbing Draco’s thigh gently and hushing sweet words that he can’t hear but still understands, keeping Draco inexplicably calm and equally high on a steady dose of pleasure.

After what seems like forever, Skin relaxes his fist and slowly, carefully pulls out his hand. Draco groans softly at the loss, his ass already feeling numb and sore, but in a good way. He has barely a second to recover, before there’s something nudging at his entrance again.

Skin leans up and presses a kiss to his mouth, licking a bit of come from the side of his face. “You did very well, darling. Ready for round two?” He ends the question with a squeeze to Draco’s still very hard cock.

Draco nods, raising his arms and kissing Skin again, deeper this time, licking his way into Skin’s mouth and making little noises in his throat when Skin growls and kisses back fiercely.

“Break it up,” Black complains, pushing at Skin. “I think he’s feeling left out.”

Scar glares at him, saying, “Fuck off.” However, he does go to straddle Draco’s chest rather eagerly when Skin pulls back.

Black enters Draco at the same time that Draco sucks Scar’s cock into his mouth. His hole is still loose from the fisting, but it’s a perfect fit around Black’s long, hard cock. He doesn’t know how to coordinate his body, how to push down onto Black’s cock and still keep a rhythm going so that Scar’s isn’t awkwardly stabbing into his mouth, but that’s a rather difficult task when he feels Skin’s finger slipping right in alongside Black’s cock.

The two of them fuck him, gently at first, not enough of a stretch to make Draco feel anything beyond mild discomfort and sweet pleasure. Soon enough, however, Skin is retracting his finger and replacing it with something much, much bigger.

Black stops moving when Skin begins thrusting in, burying himself in increments into Draco’s body. Draco waits, frowning and whining low in his throat as the stretch becomes unbearable, but it’s hard to focus on that when Black begins to jerk him off.

By the time Skin is completely buried to the hilt inside him, Draco is so far gone he is incapable of thoughts. All he knows is the taste of Scar in his mouth, the way Scar has taken over, fucking into his throat because Draco’s too slack from the pleasure to do much more than keep his mouth open. Black is driving into him in short, slow thrusts, letting Skin take the lead in pushing Draco to his limits.

Everything feels so good – the lack of control, the utter powerlessness, the overwhelming sensation of pain and pleasure, the sheer need emanating from three Alphas, their evident desire for him – it all spirals into a whirlwind of colors and sensations, making Draco blind and deaf to the world, only aware of the three men inside him, around him, and his own unsurpassed, never-ending shocks of fulfillment.

Black pulls out when he comes, his cock pressing a wet patch onto Draco’s back. Scar isn’t far behind, roughly thrusting into Draco’s mouth until he’s full of come. When he’s done, he pulls off of Draco and sucks him down his throat. The unexpected action pulls Draco back to the present, so that he’s once again hyperaware of his surrounding, of himself moaning and pleading throatily for more and Skin hammering into his ass as if he’s attempting to mark his presence there forever.

Draco comes first, down Scar’s throat with his hips twitching, pushing up into the slick heat and then down to get Skin to fuck him deeper, harder. Skin growls, cursing, when he comes in Draco, calling his name and holding still as his cock swells and expands inside Draco’s body.

For a while it’s only silence around them, comfortable and nice, until Draco breaks it and says, “Harry.”

Skin freezes, his hand pausing in mid-caress. He looks up at Draco, and that’s when Draco understands, knows for certain.

“You’re really Harry.”

-

“Get out,” Harry growls, unable to tear his eyes away from Draco’s face. Draco doesn’t look away from him, either. He’s quiet, waiting until he hears the door clicks shut and it’s just the two of them.

“Why?” Draco eventually says, half-scared of the answer, half-angry at the complete betrayal. Do you hate me that much? Were you planning on killing me to teach my father a lesson?

Of all the things Draco expects Harry to do, laughing is the last of it.

“Fuck, Draco, we’re tied together for at least half an hour and you think now’s a good time to ask me difficult questions?”

Draco shrugs, squirming a little under Harry’s hard body and staring up at him challengingly. “You kidnapped me and fucked me and very possibly are getting me pregnant right now, so yes, I do think I’m entitled to ask you any question I want whenever I want, don’t you?”

Harry, unbelievably enough, turns bright red at Draco’s declaration. Draco’s a little dazed by the sight. In all the years he’s known Harry, the man has never blushed like that. It’s charming, how his face and chest are beet red. Draco absolutely hates himself for loving Harry a bit more despite all the events that have occurred which have led to this moment, here, when Draco finds out what a liar Harry has been. What is wrong with him?

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, at length. He pulls a pillow down and pushes it under Draco’s head, letting his fingers brush down Draco’s cheek when Draco sighs softly at the comfortable position Harry’s left him in. Well, as comfortable as he can be with Harry’s penis stuck inside his body and not giving him an inch to bulge without potentially causing some sort of major internal damage.

“I love you, you know,” Harry says in a rush, and it’s so unexpected, those words Draco has been longing to hear since he was a little boy, that it makes Draco’s heart skip a beat, and then gallop forth like a wild horse in a race.

“That was my first mistake. In the beginning, the goal was simple, gain Lucius’s trust and then bring him down in the same way he’s brought down thousands of lives, torn apart countless number of families. I wanted – we wanted – to make him suffer from losing the one thing he loves most… you.”

Draco’s eyes are hard when he says, “Were you the one responsible for my kidnap at that time, too?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, that was purely a coincidence. And a perfect opportunity. Shit.”

Harry closes his eyes, turning away from Draco’s unwavering gaze as if this – Draco, his telling the story, everything that’s ever been between them – is causing him tremendous pain.

Good, Draco thinks just a little viciously. He can’t imagine whatever Harry’s feeling can actually compare to how he’s made Draco feel, since the moment Draco realizes it’s Harry, his Harry, who knocked him out and locked him in this room, in the middle of a heat cycle, who fucked him and hurt him and made him believe he was someone else. That betrayal cuts deeper, cracks open his heart as easy as an eggshell, than the fact that Harry’s spat on the trust Draco’s family placed on him and stolen their heir.

“Then… you were planning to kill me once this is over,” Draco gasps out, blinking at the stinging sensation in his eyes. He cannot believe he’s crying. He’s so humiliated and hurt and a hundred other emotions right now it’s all he can do to hold still and refrain from just tearing his way out and running from Harry forever.

“No,” Harry bursts out, turning back to Draco and looking as if he’s been slapped in the face. “God Draco, how could you even –“

Draco forces himself to hold still when Harry’s hand touches his cheek, the rough callous of his palm a stark contrast to the utter gentleness of his caress.

“You were meant to be bait. Lucius might be a heartless bastard, but when it comes down to it, you’re the love of his life. He would do anything to protect you… even giving up his shares of the company. We were going to get him to come alone with the contract signed, stating that he’d hand everything over to our cause, and then… and then make him believe we’d killed you.”

Draco trembles at the words, hardly believing what Harry’s verbalized. This is not the man he knows. His Harry, sweet, gentle Harry who’s always put Draco’s safety first, who bandaged up Draco’s cat after he was run over by a car, and then buried him when he died… his Harry could never be so malicious and manipulative, and yet, here he is, sounding as if everything that’s been shared between them has been a lie.

“And then what?” Draco whispers. “What would happen to me once you’ve led my father to think I’m dead?”

Harry looks as if he’d rather die than to stay here, stuck with Draco and listen to him ask questions. Draco finds he shares similar sentiment.

“I… haven’t thought that far.”

Draco laughs, shaky and bitter. “No, you haven’t. Because if you had, if you’d bothered to dig a little deeper, you would know my father’s been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer. If you had, you would know he named me in his will as the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. Once he dies, which if Dr. Wilson is to be believed is only a matter of time, I am to take over his position in the company.”

When Draco locks eyes with Harry, there is nothing but shock and pain exchanged between them.

“Now what are you going to do, Harry?” Draco says quietly.

Harry, however, has no answer.

-

When they finally separate, the disappointment, hurt, and dejection in the room are so palpable that there is nothing they can say to one another that can diffuse the emotions tangled in a horrible web of lies.

Draco, for his part, doesn’t know how he will ever be able to reconcile his love and bitter resentment for Harry, isn’t sure he ever wants to be around him any more.

“My dad used to work for your father, as the Head of the Accounting Department,” Harry says into the silence, his voice low, soft, but it carries and something about it makes Draco listen with bated breath.

“I was five when my dad came home one day, yelling at my mom and me to pack our things, that we had to hurry and leave. He didn’t give any explanation, but mom and I packed anyway, because we knew dad, and we knew something horrible had happened.”

Harry’s sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from Draco with his shoulders hunched, his elbows pressed against his thighs.

When he continues, his voice breaks, “We heard a gunshot, and my dad’s scream. Then there were footsteps up the stairs. My mom called the police and pushed me under the bed, told me to be quiet and wait.

“I watched them come into my bedroom, watched my mom cry and beg for mercy. I watched as one of the men stuck a gun to my mom’s head and said, Mr. Malfoy didn’t want it to end like this.”

Harry’s face is buried in his hands, so the next words are stifled, but Draco hears them, loud and clear.

“I closed my eyes when the gun went off. My mother didn’t even make a sound.

“I think they would’ve stayed and tried to find me if it weren’t for the police siren. Sometimes I wish they would have,” Harry laughs and it’s an ugly, horrible sound. “Then I wouldn’t have had to crawl out from under the bed and step over my mother’s brain splattered all over the floor. I wouldn’t have had to see people throwing a sheet over my dad’s body at the front door and telling me to watch the blood.”

It isn’t until Draco’s arms are around Harry that he realizes he’s crying and sucking in breaths against Harry’s neck.

“All my life I’ve only had one thought, to make your father feel the way he’s made me feel, the way he’s made a lot of people feel. You’d be surprised to know how easy it was to find people who wanted Lucius dead. It was easy for me, to hold on to my hatred, to want to kill your dad and make sure we got the justice we deserved.”

Harry turns around then, letting Draco see the angst and unbridled pain displayed on his face as clear as daylight. Draco wonders how he could’ve ever thought Harry to be strong and fearless and in control, how he could’ve missed the sadness etched in the crinkles around his eyes and the anger carved on his forehead, missed the longing curve of mouth, seeking love and some resemblance of a family he’d lost at a young age.

Draco’s known this man he claims to love for over half his life, and yet, he knows nothing about him at all.

“It became less easy when I met you, Draco,” Harry says gently, raising his eyes to Draco’s. “You made everything so confusing and difficult for me.” Harry sounds too fond to fool Draco. “Have I royally fucked everything up, darling?” Harry says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Draco wants to hold his ground – yes you have you hurt me you want to kill my father you lied to me and made me love you and I don’t even know what is real any more – but under Harry’s crushingly miserable gaze, he has to give in.

“I love you, you know,” Draco confesses, turning and planting himself on Harry’s lap. “Always have, and, against better judgment, always will, so I suppose no, you haven’t fucked up everything entirely.”

Harry’s hands are sweaty when they grip Draco’s waist tightly. Draco returns his embrace, clinging onto Harry with every ounce of his power.

“I’ll take you back home,” Harry says eventually, muffled against Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll tell your dad everything. We’ll… figure it out.”

As much as Draco would like that, he knows the implication of Harry’s words. Tell Draco’s father, and Harry’s dead. Draco doesn’t want Harry dead.

“No,” he says decisively, pulling back to look at Harry. “You’re going to let me go and then tell my dad you found me on the side of the road. We’ll forget this ever happened.”

Draco swallows back the tight clench of his heart and chokes out the next words, “My father… doesn’t have long to live. Once he passes away, I will take over his spot in the company. I… I’ll make sure to change things. I’m not stupid, I know what my father’s done, and I know I won’t be able to change the past, but I can damn well make sure the future will be different.”

Draco takes Harry’s hand, large and warm between his. “And when I do, I’ll need you to be there to guide me.”

Harry is speechless for the longest time. Draco’s beginning to doubt when, very suddenly, Harry breaks into a smile and crushes Draco to his chest.

“What have I done to deserve you?” Harry half-sobs, and Draco strokes his back, smiling at the way Harry’s heart is thumping against his chest.

“By the way,” Draco drawls after a moment. “Who are the other two men who’ve been fucking me for the past week?”

Harry chokes out a laugh and gives Draco a wicked and rather possessive gaze.

“Men who won’t ever touch you again as long as I’m around.”

Draco pretends to think about it, but quite frankly, that’s as good an answer as he’ll ever need.

The End