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The first thing Harry realised was the fact he was lying on a cold hard surface. The second thing he realised was that he was currently lying down naked, on a cold hard surface.

His first coherent thought being; shit.

His mind begun whirling, thoughts speeding a thousand miles a minute. Why am I naked? Am I in danger? How did I end up here? Where is here?

He suddenly became aware of the shuffles of clothing near him, and opened his eyes slowly, not daring to move. His gaze immediately fell to the multiple people in black robes standing in front of him, in white masks. Death eaters.

His mind screamed at him to run, fight, do something, but his body was frozen in fear and shock. His heart speed up and was hammering so loudly in his ribcage he wouldn't be surprised if they could hear it. The moment the death eaters noticed him watching them, a few seemed to jeer at him.

Wanting to sink through the floor, he examined the men gathered in front of him in a mixture of shock and fear. Never had he imagined anyone could feel this embarrassed, exposed and helpless. Why wasn't he dead already? Surely it would be safer to make sure he was out of the way immediately? He paused in thought. No, they probably wanted to torture him first. He shuddered, suddenly feeling ill.

No, no, this had to be a dream. In a moment he would wake up in his bed in Gryffindor tower, grudgingly get up to go to class. He and Ron would slack off and Hermione would nag them to be more studious, and everything would be normal. He vaguely wondered if he should close his eyes now to help with waking up from this nightmare. 

“Finally awake, Potter?” An intimidating voice drawled from behind him.

Realising he had yet to move he scrambled to sit up, covering himself as best as he could. He heard some snigger at his pointless efforts. He slowly turned his head to find the source of the voice not wanting to take his eyes off the death eaters; and found himself sitting on the ground in front of a chair. No, this was a throne.

Perched at the edge of the throne, peering down at him was a tall, slim man who looked to be in his twenties. His entire appearance screamed power and pure-blood, but there was something vaguely familiar about him. His mind whirred trying to figure out why he was so sure he should recognise this man.

Then, he noticed the red eyes studying him in amusement. 

His mind quickly put the pieces together. This was Tom Riddle. Voldemort. In human form. The feeling of dread and hopelessness that had been building slowly finally reached its peak. No, this could still be a dream. He remembered before, he got out of his nightmares by telling himself over and over, "its a dream, its just a dream." But right now that wasn't working; why wasn't it working this can't be real please don't be real. The cold feeling of fear washed over him fully as he realised the situation. 

There was no getting out of this. He was trapped. Defenceless on the floor, wandless, naked, surrounded by death eaters and in front of Voldemort himself.

“Stand up,”

It was spoken in a bored tone of voice but there was no doubt in Harry's mind it was an stern order, one which promised consequences should he not listen. Voldemort had his wand pointed lazily at Harry, eyes daring him to disobey.


Harry realised he had two choices now. He could fight, defy them, and probably get tortured longer or harder for it; but he would at least keep some dignity. 

Or, he could obey; he would possibly be punished less, but it would just amuse them all, him giving in so easily and quickly.

For now, he decided to follow along with any orders, the torture this was leading up too did not look good and he did not want to aggravate these possible murderers that surrounded him. The floor was chilly and cold on his posterior anyway, he longed to get off it.

He was facing Voldemort, whose' gaze was raking over Harry's lithe form. He tried his best not to give him the pleasure of seeing him flush or shy away, so he forced his face to stay blank, and his body stiff, refusing to react.

Voldemort seemed to notice his stubbornness and smirked “Turn around and face the others,”

He cursed Voldemort in his head, but a cold feeling was settling in his stomach. What was going to happen next? As he turned he noticed most of the death eaters had removed their masks, and to his horror, a few were staring at him with what could only be described as hungry, lustful gazes. Of course, there where still some who simply looked bored or amused.

“So, Harry Potter, the Saviour of the wizarding world. The chosen one. Here you are now, defenceless and surrounded. What shall you do?”

He could hear the sinister smile in Voldemorts' voice, and nearly rolled his eyes but just managed to stop himself. 

The moment cold hands touched his arm he made to jump away from surprise, but another came forward grabbing his hip, and pulled him backwards.

For a moment he was disorientated, but then to his horror, realised he was sitting in Voldemorts' lap, his back pressed against the black robes the man favoured. He quickly made to get up but the Dark Lords hands grabbed his wrists, and forced them upwards.

Harry heard vague mumbling, a spell, and then Voldemort released his wrists. He tried to pull his arms back down, only to his horror find them magically locked into place above his head. There was no getting away from this...monster now.

His panic began to build again, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest when hot breath ghosted across his ear.

“Now now, none of that; relax. I think you may even enjoy this,” his voice was low, nearly seductive- no, don't even think like that Harry, clear your mind, don't think of anything. He chastised himself and closed his eyes, pretending he was anywhere but here. He evened out his breathing and tried to imagine Hogwarts to calm himself. 

Hands began lightly trailing down his chest, then back up again, light, teasing, feather touches, and he nearly tensed up. The mans fingertips danced across his chest, seemingly at random, and Harry nearly squirmed from the ticklish feeling this created. 'What on earth is he doing ? Luring me into a false sense of security? ' Harry wondered. Those long fingers now were focusing in and around his nipples, and he couldn't imagine why, before one hand reached up and twisted his left one. Harry felt a spark shoot through his body and what on earth was that

A small noise forced its way out of Harrys' throat and he squirmed slightly in Voldemorts' lap, before forcing himself non-reactive. 

Good lord this cannot be happening. He was fairly sure he knew what this could be now. Any situation where he would imagine being captured by Voldemort, this was certainly the last possible thing he would imagine happening. He should be dead, or in pain, not in Voldemorts lap being...touched like this.

He felt rather than heard the Dark Lord chuckle, Toms hard chest vibrating lightly against his back.

The hands where back, trailing down his sides, back up, across his chest, briefly landing teasing touches to his now hardened nubs. He tried so hard to block the feelings, make his mind blank, but the sheer shock of the situation kept bringing his mind back. Was this actually happening? And hell, he'd never touched his nipples before and never heard of them feeling like this when touched. It burned when pinched but otherwise send small pulses through his body from his nipples down to his crotch. Those long elegant fingers trailed along his ribcage, before lightly circling the area around his nipples, refusing to go closer. 

“Open your eyes,” The voice was back beside his ear, making him shiver at the small jolt that went through him at the authority in that tone. Shiver in disgust he told his mind harshly. The mans' warm breath tickled his ear, the husky tone only fuelling the pleasure that was pooling in his crotch.

A hand grabbed his jaw to direct it upwards. His eyes flickered open automatically, and then immediately wished they hadn't.

Some of the Death eaters assembled had taken themselves out of their robes, and where touching themselves slowly; others where subtly rubbing themselves through their robes. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that a few of them, those not interested had left while he was...distracted.

“Just look at how you are affecting them,” Voldemort practically purred into his ear, his chin now resting on Harrys' shoulder. He tried his best not to flinch when he felt teeth graze his ear lobe, but had to withhold a small whimper when he begun sucking and licking, a tongue curling around the edge of his ear. He never would have pegged his ears as a sensitive or erogenous zone but was proved wrong, as he practically writhed in the mans' grasp under the attention he was reciving.

To Harrys' horror, his body began reacting much, much more strongly. He begged his body to stop, stop feeling what Voldemort was doing to him, but it was useless. His cock which had been settled at half hard was now becoming more erect. It wasn't long before it was curved upwards towards his stomach, demanding attention.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' He thought 'I can't possibly be enjoying this, why am I not even trying to fight? A spell. It must be. There’s no other explanation' He tried to reassure himself, before being brought back to reality by a deep chuckle near his ear.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Harry,” Hearing his name in that tone of voice, from that man induced a full body shiver in Harry, disgust, obviously. There was no way it could have been pleasure. Definitely not.

He tried to subtly bend his knees up towards his chest, hiding himself from those watching. Naturally, Voldemort noticed and took action.

The man tutted “We can't have that,” and grabbed hold of his ankles. Harry shuddered from the strong grasp. The man brought them upwards and apart, settling his feet on the arm rests on either side of the throne. He heard another vague whisper and his legs where now stuck like this, wide open and bent at the knees, displaying him for all to see.

He was completely exposed, there was no way to hide. He could struggle all he wanted but he was stuck in this position, only able to move a few centimetres in each direction. To his shame, this only aroused him more, as he tried feebly to bring his legs together, his efforts gaining amused chuckles from beside his ear, and he was nearly possitive he heard a moan from somewhere in front of him.

The way his legs were open showed not only his now throbbing erection, but also a hint of his small, wrinkled arsehole between his cheeks. He felt completely vulnerable, his heart still beating like he was running a marathon. Would they now take turns with him? Would they kill him afterwards? Or was he now going to become some toy for their sexual pleasure and amusement, never see the light of day again?

He was brought of of his morbid thoughts by Voldemorts' teasing voice.

“That must be rather frustrating Harry,” he murmured, head now resting on Harry's' shoulder. Before he could wonder what the man meant he noticed Tom was looking down at his weeping cock, which had yet to be touched. “Do you require some assistance, Harry?”

The fact that this was the Dark Lord himself speaking in such a gentle tone, despite being teasing was nearly ridiculous. If anything he would have expected Voldemort and his Death eaters to be rough, unforgiving, but not this. It was unbearable, and arousing, if slightly embarrassing.

The hands were now trailing down his sides, nails dragging lightly creating a delicious sensation. Harry bashed down the instinct to squirm in Voldemorts' lap. Slowly the hands travelled lower and Harry found himself holding his breath in anticipation. Closer....closer....

The hands passed his now dripping cock, and slowly started gently caressing the creases between his thighs, pointedly ignoring his cock and balls. they trailed along the gap between his legs and crotch, slowly, and so close to his cock that it was nearly unbearable. Harry's breath started to come faster, like small quiet gasps. His eyes were now scrunched shut both against scrutiny and in pleasure. He was sure he must have looked utterly pathetic. Stuck, exposed in the Dark Lords lap, panting and writhing at such little attention to his body. His cock was jutting upwards and dripping pre-come onto his stomach despite having yet to be touched. 

When those large hands suddenly pulled apart his arse cheeks he jumped slightly, although all this did was make him grind into the figure behind him.

He noticed with slight horror and some strange sense of smug satisfaction that Voldemort was just as affected by this. He could feel the man’s own warm arousal through his robes, pressing into his lower back.

When he moved Voldemort let out a sort of gasp, or maybe just a small inhale. For some odd, crazy reason Harry found himself wondering if he should do it again, perhaps it would be better than just sitting, taking everything that came his way; but he restrained that urge. Why on earth would I think about making him feel good?

One of Voldemort's hands was now softly caressing his face, tracing the back of his knuckles down his cheek. It tickled slightly, and he found his head moving away from the touch of its own accord. The man simply followed, still lightly touching around his face, mapping it out as though fascinated.

His other hand was now in front of his view, and he flicked his wrist. Suddenly, in his hand was a feather.

Harry's stomach dropped, and he now was anxious again. How long would this teasing go on for?

Before he could think anything else the feather was on his nipples, circling the outer edge. His breath caught in his throat and his mind went blank and he found himself only feeling.

It trailed from one side of the chest to the other, his breath hitched every time it flicked over the nubs of his slightly red nipples, sending light electric pulses down his chest and to his twitching cock. He continued at a slow, leisurely pace, but eventually began trailing down his stomach. The man swished the feather back and forth, circling areas of skin that make Harry react strongest. Being unused to touches like these, Harry was unbearably sensitive, and these light teasing touches were driving him mad. He'd only ever even touched himself a few times. 

He also couldn't help but gasp and squirm at the ticklish feeling the feathers brought. Voldemort groaned softly next to his ear as harry grinded backwards, trying to get away from the blasted torturous feather.

But of course, Voldemort found himself liking this reaction, and continued, but moved onto his side. Harry dully noticed that another feather had been summoned and was at his other side, and he had nowhere to squirm too, trapped in between the torturous, light and teasing touches.

Although they tickled he didn't find himself wanting to laugh, no, he found himself fighting back moans.

His body continued moving back against the man against his will, but he found himself no longer caring. The teasing sensations made it impossible to stay still, and his arse grinded back and forth in the lap of the man teasing him.

He felt teeth nip at his neck, and he unconsciously tilted his head to the side to allow better access. He felt his neck being tasted. A wet tongue trailed along the skin, nipping and sucking and fuck that felt good. Harry's breath was slowly becoming heavier, and his cock more desperate to be touched, pre-cum now dripping down the shaft, and smearing across his stomach where his cock lay, lightly rubbing back and forth against it when he grinding back into the man.

It was infuriating.

One feather was suddenly gone and a hand forced his neck forward, while the other moved down, again, trailing on past his painful erection, and found itself between his cheeks. His eyes fluttered open of their own accord and he felt himself entranced, watching what was happening to him. It was slowly trailing up and down the small space between his arsehole and balls.

He mewled slightly and bucked, trying to get it to touch more intimate areas, anything to get him off. Of course, the man only huffed a deep laugh and continued avoiding where Harry desperately wanted to be touched. His cock was beginning to ache, and his mind was in a hazy state of pure lust. The feather continued but now in circles and god that was so much worse. His hips were constantly moving now, and he couldn't stop it if he tried. His eyes fluttered shut again. Nothing else existed to him at the moment. Only him and Tom.

The thumb on the hand that was gripping his jaw began moving, caressing his cheek, and moving towards his mouth. It traced the outer edges of his lips, before gently moving between his moist lips, settling against the tip of his tongue. His tongue pressed against the invading appendage, and he heard a noise of approval beside his ear, which oddly enough made him feel amazing.

“Open your eyes Harry.” A soft spoken command broke through the mist of arousal, but he kept them closed. There was a noise of disapproval and the thumb was out of his mouth, hand gripping his jaw a tad harder now, keeping it firmly in place. 

“Open them, Harry,”

The man had now stopped doing anything, and Harry found his hips thrusting more desperately, looking for some kind of touch. He waited a few moments, squirming lightly in the man's hold. When it became clear he wasn't about to grant Harry that wish, he opened his eyes.

The Death eaters were still there. He could see some had no shame, and were now stroking themselves in full view of the others. A few were more subtle, and palming themselves through the robes.

A whine escaped his throat before he could stop it, but he was rewarded for his co-operation when the man began his ministrations again, but finally moving lower.

The feather was suddenly flicked across his arsehole.

He gasped loudly at the sudden intensity and hot arousal that shot through him at this tiny movement. Voldemort seemed amused by this reaction and continued trailing the feather up and down the crease between his butt cheeks, each time lightly teasing the outer ring.

He waited until another moan escaped Harry's throat before fully focusing in on the wrinkled hole. The arousal that was shooting through him was shocking, he was never thought it possible to feel this much pleasure. Harry was panting now, and trying to move his legs apart to get more of this amazing feeling but he was reminded of the invisible bonds keeping his legs in place and nearly whined.

It was torture, pure, blissful torture. He refused to lower himself to begging but he was growing more and more desperate for a more intense touch.

Whiny moans and pants continued escaping him at regular intervals, and he could feel Voldemort shifting beneath him, the man's arousal still hot and hard against his back, and he wondered how the man could stand not touching himself.

“Tell me what you want,” A husky voice whispered into his ear, and he shuddered in response.

His resolve at not begging was slowly slipping away, and after a few more moments of gasping and squirming he gave in because he needed to cum now.

“Please...” He spoke it so softly he wondered if he had even said it, but the light vibration against his back as Voldemort laughed slightly confirmed that he was, in fact heard.

“Louder, Harry, so they can hear you” He spoke softly and gently, voice so kind sounding Harry almost couldn't stand it. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this in any way, shape or form, and yet here he was, naked and aroused, panting and gasping for more in the Dark Lords lap.

The feather disappeared from his arsehole. Before he could mewl in displeasure at the loss, it trailed ever so slowly up his red swollen cock. 

And god, he could have screamed at the sensations that flooded through him. Instead he writhed wildly in the man's lap, and emitted a loud gasp which melted into a moan half way through. The sensations were flooding his mind, and his hips had begun grinding forward and back rhythmically, trying to get more of that delicious pressure on his cock which was now an angry red at lack of attention.

He was sure he must have looked so utterly desperate now, sweaty, naked in Voldemort's lap.

The feather moved up, and lightly circled the head of his cock, moving slowly round and around and to hell with not begging.

Please, please please please,”

He whispered a mantra of begs. He was lost in pleasure, completely giving in to the situation. He was sure the man could have asked him to take the dark mark right now and he would say yes, just as long as he could cum.

He felt the man shudder behind him, and it oddly pleased him. The feather was now trailing lazily up and down his cock, only just the lightest of touches. But it did occasionly flick across the head of his cock which always drew a loud moan from him. Harry was still chanting "please," but the man took a few more moments to speak.

“What do you want me to do Harry?”

He bucked upwards as the feather continuously circled his head again and half screamed, drawing a quiet moan from Voldemort.

Oh god, please, just, please... fuck,

The feather was now abandoned for the man's hand, which was spreading his pre-cum down the length. And fuck, a hand was a hundred times better than the blasted feather. He'd never felt anything this wonderful. Those few times were he'd touched himself seemed like a chore, and he's always felt shy or ashamed after. It never seemed worth the time or trouble getting off. But this. Now he could understand why people perused relationships or sex. The man behind him was only barely touching his prick and it was the most wonderful thing he'd felt. 

 Harry dully noted was was holding his breath now as the hand froze near the base. Tom seemed to be waiting.

He slowly opened his eyes again. Suddenly re-aware they were not alone, he studied the death eaters quickly.

Many were still stroking themselves slowly, and the sight made his cock twitch. The fact they were so freely being touched and yet he was stuck like this was maddening, but arousing as hell.

“Please, let me cum,” his voice was a mere whisper, pleaded.

His stomach jumped as the man's other hand went down to his dusky pucker, and slowly pushed in one finger. He gasped at the new sensation. It felt odd, and stung slightly, but in his hazy state he couldn't bring himself to care.

He noticed the finger wasn't dry. He must have lubed it up while he was...otherwise occupied.

The finger wriggled slightly and fucking hell, he could feel everything, and it only added to his arousal. A few moments passed of this when a shot of pure pleasure ran through his body and he loudly gasped, mouth and eyes wide as the finger probed and hit a spot that had him seeing stars. His pupils were blown wide now, green nearly completely eaten by the black of his pupils. He felt his eyes were slightly moist with tears of pleasure. Harry was frozen for a long moment, basking in the new sensation, before he began squirming again, body demanding more. 

He took loud shuddery breathers, but as the finger pressed against that spot again he dissolved back into gasps and moans.

Merlin, look at you. So helpless, writhing in my lap.” Voldemorts voice was low and husky. “You're being so good now, see? There was no point in resisting. I can give you so much pleasure.

The last word was practically purred in his ear and he mewed in response. This seemed to please Voldemort and he lightly stroked his cock in response.

Only moments later he felt his orgasm approach.

“Oh god, fuck, yes-” he gasped.

The hand on his cock moved to the base, and squeezed. His orgasm was right there, he was teetering on the edge for a few absolutly blissful moments, before coming back down. Tom was stopping him from cumming.

He could have sobbed.

“Please, please, let me,” He bucked and writhed as much as he could in his magical binds, trying to get some kind of friction or movement that might push him over. He continued his mantra of pleas before the man spoke.

“You want to cum?” Toms voice was teasing, but also heavy with his own arousal.

“yes! yes yes yes yes-” He continued babbling wildly, now thrashing his head from side to side, the pleasure so intense he needed to move more, his head being the only thing free.

And then all at once Voldemort let go and began stroking hard. Up and down his flushed cock rythmically, no longer light and teasing but grasping firmly. His other hand which was lightly teasing near his prostate now began circling solidly and directly onto it, sending small electric like signals of pleasure through him.

It happened so suddenly he couldn't even make a noise, just gulped in air, and came so strongly he could only see white. He had stilled in the man's hold, but after a few seconds he let out a low, loud moan, and slowly moved his hips through his orgasm. And hell, he was so filled with pleasure it verged on the line of pain. He could think of nothing, only pleasure and Tom. His hips rocked hard through the orgasm, and he felt a wet warmth spread near his backside, accompanied by Tom's husky groan of pleasure, and he knew the man came too.

He was sure he was shooting out thick streams of cum all over his chest and possibly face, but in that moment he couldn't care. He couldn't care about anything. He just felt.

A whispered voice cut through his pleasure just at the end of his orgasm. He knew he was about to pass out.

“Good boy.”

And then, he felt himself falling into unconsciousness.

 

 

Chapter Text


 

 

THIS IS A BONUS SCENE!

THIS STORY IS A ONE SHOT BUT THIS NEXT BIT OF WRITING IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GET BORED AND TRY TO MAKE IT INTO A STORY (which it isn't and will never be) SO if you don't want to leave wondering what will happen next, or leave the story as an ambiguous sex scene then DON'T read this chapter!

 


 

 

He was floating. That was the only way to describe it.

Not a single coherent thought invaded his mind. All he could do was feel. There was a slight cool breeze, that just faintly caressed his exposed skin. The silk surrounding him was cold, but lavishly creamy. All too soon his mind became more aware that he was indeed awake, and he reluctantly began to analyse his surroundings.

He was alone, or at least it seemed that way. Nearly all was silent, but a soft distant chirping coming from an open wind- Open window?

Sluggishly, his eyes flickered open, only to immediately shut again. Light from outside invaded the room, burning his sleep filled eyes. He tried again, slowly, and sat up.

He blinked. And then blinked again.

He sat in an overly extravagant room, decorated in rich tones of green and gold. Saying the bed he was sat on was big would be an understatement, and it was quite possibly the most comfortable surface he'd ever had the pleasure to lay on.

The memories of yesterday which had so far just been hovering at the very edges of his concious mind suddenly invaded him. How should he feel? How should he react?

He supposed he should be panicking, waking up in an unknown environment after being practically molested by Voldemort. Only he wasn't, in fact he felt rather calm, if slightly embarrassed. His mind was cast back to how desperate he'd acted, how willing. He felt his face warm and harbour the beginnings of a blush. Had he even tried to fight? Hell, did he even say no once? He couldn't remember.

He was sent back to his original thought; the open window. He was quite honestly surprised that there was seemingly some method of escape; Even more so that he had awoken at all, or in such a lavish room of all things, rather than chained up in a cold stone dungeon.

Reluctantly, he rose from the nest of silk sheets and fluffy pillows, to explore.

The first thing he noticed upon standing was his clothing. He was dressed in green silk pyjamas. 'What's with all the silk?' passed through his mind before realising he was also wearing new boxers. Perhaps he should be embarrassed or offended...but after what happened yesterday, this would be considered tame.

He walked across the fluffy carpet to the window, to conclude it was in fact open, with no bars or otherwise hindering his escape. Perhaps a ward?

Hesitantly he stretched his arm out, only for it to pass through the window with no signs of a ward. He was only one story up, he could definitely jump without killing himself. He may have a broken or twisted ankle, maybe worse, but there was always the option of escape.

So why wasn't he going for it?

He backed away, and moved towards one of the two doors. The first opened, and lead into a richly designed bathroom. He closed it, and tried the next, to find it locked.

Harry supposed this lead out of the room to the rest of the...mansion? Hell, it would have to be a mansion if it was all designed this ornate.

There was a large bookcase settled against one of the walls, and as he moved closer to read the book titles, or find something to pass the time, the loud click of the door unlocking bounced and echoed through the large room.

Harry jumped, his heart now pounding in his chest at the unexpected sudden noise, and he looked over in time to see Tom ; 'Voldemort' his mind chastised; enter, and immediately zero his gaze on him.

How should he react? Should he defend himself? Run? This entire thing was probably meant to lure him into some false sense of security, he should-

“Sleep well Harry?” Tom smiled.

...gawk and stare like an idiot. Voldemort could smile? Not a smirk, or cruel turn of the lips, sneer, no, this was an honest to god, actual smile.

He resisted the urge to pinch himself, and realised he was still staring stupidly at Tom, who now had one eyebrow raised, seemingly waiting for some response.

“I....what?” He blurted out. Honestly though, who could blame him? This was the dark lord stood in front of him, smiling and being...oddly pleasant. Was the world ending?

Tom huffed out a deep laugh “How very articulate,” he strode over to the second door in the room, and Harry tensed, following his every movement with wide green eyes. “Well, since you just woke up, how about a bath? I'll have the house elves make a meal for when you're done. I imagine your hunger will be setting in soon.”

He stared at Harry expectantly, holding the bathroom door open. Without thinking Harry found himself walking over, mind on automatic following the unspoken order. Just before he reached the door, he stopped and stared up at the man.

The man seemed to see the silent question reflecting in Harry's eyes and sighed, smile dropping from his face “This is not a trick, I am not going to hurt you here Harry...unless you want me too,” He finished with a flirtatious smile that had warmth spread through Harry's stomach, and flow downwards. 'You are not getting aroused right now' Harry tried to stamp down on his bodies internal reactions to this man, and he realised Voldemort had already walked on into the bathroom and started running a bath.

There must have been some magic involved, Harry thought as he walked in, as the bath was filling rather quickly, and with many bubbles despite not seeing the man put in any bubble bath. he oddly found himself getting excited for this bath; he'd never had one with bubblebath and in such a lavish room. 

Tom turned to Harry, looked him up and down, then pulled out his wand. Harry was instantly on the defensive, tensing up, waiting for some sign to turn tail and run.

“Now, one must be naked to have a bath, so...” He waved his wand once, and Harry, to his utter embarrassment found himself suddenly stark naked. He yelped, then moved his hands in front of him, covering himself to the best of his ability. Glaring up at the man he was surprised to see the eyes boring down into his own, and whatever angry retort he'd had in his mind died before it could make it past his lips.

To his annoyance the man just smiled down at his glare “Just helping out. And now,” He moved forward towards him, and Harry immediately mirrored the movements backwards, but hit the cold wall. His back arched suddenly, unconsciously protesting against the sudden change in temperature, and then the world turned.

His mind shut off when he realised Tom had very unexpectedly lifted him up bridal style, moved to the bath, and was gently set him in the welcoming and warm bath water... Still reeling from the shock, he stared blankly at the man now hovering above him.

He was snapped out of his state when Tom finally spoke. “I'm feeling a bit tense myself, perhaps I should join you?” and the flirtatious smile was back with a vengeance. His mind was cast back to the pleasure he had felt the day before and he already found himself hardening. Without thinking, he blurted out in embarrassment. 

“Wh- no!” He blurted out hastily, then immediately regretted it. He hadn't outwardly denied Voldemort yet, would he be punished? Tortured? He scrunched his eyes closed and looked down, tensed, waiting for...whatever was coming.

There was a brief moment of silence, then the movement of clothes, coming closer to him and it cemented in his mind that a punishment was coming. 'Here it is' he thought. He braced himself.

A large hand came under his chin, and softly, but firmly manoeuvred his head upwards. Harry fully expected some sort of slap, but he was again utterly surprised by the man.

A warm and surprisingly soft set of lips descended onto his very briefly, and all too soon left.

Harry blinked his eyes open and stared up at Tom, who was now smiling back down at him “Take as much time as you want, the food will be ready and still warm when you're out.” and then he was gone.

Now alone he could focus on his thoughts and this utterly insane world he found himself in. He finally gave in to the temptation to pinch himself, and found that yes, he was in fact awake. This entire thing was crazy.

Considering what happened yesterday, why hadn't the man just forced himself on him? He had all the power here, why did he back off? Why was he being gentle? Had he woken up in some alternative universe? Honestly, there was no other way to explain how things were going this way. Perhaps a spell? Potion gone bad? 

It was some time before Harry snapped out of his musings and begrudgingly began to wash himself. He'd have rather just lay there soaking. The water was absolutely divine.

Without noticing, he began dosing off, the warmth and comfort of the water further helping him fall into the wonderful obliviousness of sleep.

 


 

 

He slowly awoke to the sensation of being carried, and was then aware of a voice speaking to him, just managing to break through his haziness.

“Honestly, you just woke up and yet you're falling asleep in a bath...ridiculous,” the voice mumbled on in an amused but exasperated tone. He was then being righted, and Harry forced his legs to stand without aid.

Blinking open his eyes open he came face to face with the large mirror covering the entirety of one wall, and confirmed that yes, Tom had found him sleeping in the bath, and had just lifted him out. Good lord he was acting like some helpless maiden.

Before he even had time to blush or consider covering up his nakedness Tom had a fluffy towel in one hand and had begun gently drying his chest.

Harry immediately reached out to grab and stop him “What are you doing?” He squeaked at the man, who just ignored his efforts to stop him and continued to his back.

“I'm drying you” Voldemort replied, in a tone that stated the answer should have been obvious; which it was of course.

“But why?” Harry fought not to squirm under the man's ministrations; which were completely innocent, but standing naked under the man's gaze was; to Harry's embarrassment; bringing about faint stirrings of arousal.

He was now onto his arms, and answered shortly, “because I want to.” And that was that.

As Tom was drying his arms he finally looked into the mirror at their reflection, and caught harry staring back at him. Harry tried to look away; honestly. But the man's red eyes were too captivating, and he found himself trapped within that heated gaze.

Without even being fully aware of it, Harry's cock was now half hard. It wasn't until the man behind him began towelling his stomach that it was brought to both his; and the man's attentions.

To his surprise Tom said nothing; even his face gave away nothing; and continued drying his arse, and down his legs; completely bypassing and ignoring his crotchal region. He supposed it should have been a relief but it was in fact mildly infuriating. The lack of attention and teasing only made his cock harden further, and just as the man had finished drying every other part of him he was fully hard, and blushing madly.

Tom stood up behind him, and settled his head on Harry's shoulder, looking at both of them in the mirror. To Harry, just looking at the image of him fully naked and hard in front of this powerful man who was fully clothed only made the situation that much more arousing. His skin was sensitive, and he could feel the creases and soft fabric of Tom's expensive robes pressing into his naked back.

Suddenly strong hands were on his lower stomach, very near, but not touching his cock.

“Would you like some help with that Harry?” Smugness was practically radiating off the man.

He opened his mouth to give an indignant reply but was cut off when the man firmly grabbed him, and began stroking up and down the length slowly. Whatever he'd been about to say had turned into a strangled moan, and his hands flew towards the man's wrist automatically. Tom tutted, and used his free hand to remove them and continue, but hell, Harry needed to grab onto something, so he reached back and fisted his hands in the man's robes.

The hand continued all throughout this, slowly travelling up and down his length, never faltering or increasing in its speed. It should have been frustrating, but for right now it was only erotic, and Harry leaned back fully into the man, finding the strong lean chest behind him very appealing. His head fell back resting on the hard shoulders behind him. 

Toms other hand quickly wound itself around Harry's chest; supporting him as he began to practically melt into the older man.

A thumb was lightly swiped over his cockhead, spreading the pre-cum down his length providing extra lubrication other than the water. Not that any of it was really needed though; Toms hands were surprisingly soft. Harry was lost in his lust. He'd never imagined something like this could feel so bloody good. The one continuous speed of stroking could have lasted a minute, or 20, he wouldn't have known. He was only brought out of his haze when the stroking stopped entirely.

He whined and bucked his hips outwards to try and meet the hand again, but it was gone.

“I will continue if you keep looking” Tom's voice was deep and husky in his ear, and it brought not only a shot of arousal through him, but smugness that his state was affecting the man.

Harry hadn't even been aware his head had lulled back, eyes now closed. He couldn't even pinpoint the moment he's stopped watching the man's reflection in the mirror.

He opened his eyes and met Tom's reflections, and really looked at the man. His gaze swept the man's facial features, and damn, why hadn't he noticed before just how bloody attractive he was. He was utterly gorgeous. Maybe it was his arousal speaking for him, but honestly he would like nothing more than to turn around and ravish the man. 

Maybe Tom noticed this in his eyes, because he promptly turned him around on the spot, and his lips crashed onto Harry's.

With a startled moan, Harry responded, opening his mouth to allow access. The battle their tongues had was short; as Harry quickly found himself submitting, letting the man simply do what he wanted. Their tongues curled against one another and he felt Tom's tounge map out the inside of his mouth, finding each and every sensative spot and playing with it until Harry whined into that amazing mouth. And hell if the kiss didn't just add to Harry's frustrations. He unwillingly began to rut against the man, seeking some friction on his abandoned prick.

He felt the man huff a laugh against his mouth at his actions.

And mercifully Tom reached between them and renewed his stroking. If he could have, Harry was sure he would be purring into the man's mouth. Instead he was letting out small strangled moans, which Tom greedily swallowed down.

Unnoticed by him, his arms hand wound themselves around Tom's neck, trying to get them even closer together, which was at this point entirely impossible as they were plastered together.

The slow pace of Tom's hand soon became not nearly enough for Harry, he felt near the edge but couldn't quite push himself over. He supposed this was probably the man's goal, and it was while being immensely pleasurable it was also infuriating.

He pulled back slightly and panted against Tom's mouth “More, please,”

Tom just smirked down at his flushed face, “More what?”

As the thumb swept over his head, he answered “I-ngh, faster,” before he could even continue he moaned loudly as the man's hand finally, finally began stoking at a pace that fully satisfied him.

“All you had to do was ask,” He murmured in a husky voice.

Harry made a guttural sound of need and tried to move even closer to the man. He found himself nizzling his face into the mans' neck, letting his hot breath pant against that glorious neck. He couldn't help but wonder what it tasted like, and his tongue darted out, before he kissed down and sucked. There was a groan above him and a bolt of arousal shot through him and he needed, needed to make this man feel as much pleasure as he felt now. 

He was fully aware he was now thrusting into the man's hold, and he was quickly approaching orgasm. He just needed Tom now and he needed this man to know. He remembered the effect his begging previously had on the man, and in his state the floodgates suddenly opened with no restraint.

"Tom, please -oh god- need to cum, please, please, let me," He felt the man's deep groan vibrate from his chest, and then he spoke. 

“Come for me now, Harry.” He breathed out

And hell, how could Harry not. He was sure he would have shouted or screamed loudly, but Toms mouth was back on his and greedily swallowed all the pitiful noises made as he finished. Thin ropes of cum shot between them, marking Harry's bare chest and Voldemort's robes. The man continued stroking as he came, milking out every last bit of cum, holding him tightly through the aftershocks. He finally stopped when Harry softly moaned at the over-sensitivity, and Tom finally removed his hand from his cock.

Harry just leaned against the man, catching his breath, mind swimming in bliss.

Less than a minute later, he was brought back to reality, and promptly wondered how on earth his life had come to this. He tensed slightly in the arms that were holding him. Should he move away? Would Voldemort want him to do...something in return? 

Before his mind could send him into a frantic and anxious state, he was pushed back slightly. Harry looked up just in time to see Tom's face moving close to his own. A small intake of breath escaped him as those firm demanding lips descended onto his. He couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped him and the arms around him tightened at the sound.  

Harry was still in a mild haze when he found himself being gently dressed and led outside the bathroom, back into the main room. There was now a small table with two chairs either end in the centre of the room. 

"Harry?" A deep voice snapped him back to reality and he looked up at the face hovering slightly above his. He could see...concern? In those stormy grey eyes. "Are you okay?"

He swallowed, before looking down shyly, not being able to stand the emotions he could see swimming just bellow the surface of the man's normally harsh demeanour. He nodded.

"I'm good." He was surprised to hear his own voice was little more than a croak, and his face heated. There was a pause, before Tom walked over and pulled out a chair in invitation. He hesitated slightly before sitting, and mumbling a thanks. Voldemort sat down opposite him, and Harry nearly jumped when he suddenly snapped his fingers. 

Suddenly, steaming delicious food appeared on the table, accompanied with lavish cutlery and what looked to be wine. After a few moments salivating at the food he looked into the amused eyes opposite him. Tom gestured with his hands at the food.

"Dig in," And so he did; Shyly at first, but gained more confidence as time passed. He was surprised that this was somewhat informal. He had expected a Dark Lord to be strict in table manners but he didn't seem to mind that Harry had absolutely no clue about the extensive cutlery and their uses.

Dinner passed in what should have been an awkward silence but Harry honestly found it quite comfortable. Had they talked he wouldn't know how to act or what to say. All too soon he was finished; there was still some food left but he couldn't eat any more in fear of throwing up.

"Done?" 

Harry's eyes flickered up to the man opposite him, staring so intensely he felt a spark run through his body. He cleared his throat before answering (lest he let out another weak croak of an answer)

"Yes," He paused "It was delicious."  he added as an afterthought.

Voldemort smiled. "I'm glad." And perhaps a smile should have been comforting to Harry but it was so open and honest he found it unnerving because he never associated "The Dark Lord" as someone who could be happy or kind like this. Again he wondered if this whole thing was some weirdly elaborate trick. 

He was brought out of his musing by the man's voice. 

"I was going to talk more, explain all of this to you Harry, as I'm sure you must be terribly confused and lost," As he talked he rose from the chair and moved to Harry's side of the table, and leaned down towards him. "But I must say, you're making it rather difficult for me." Surprisingly gentle hands cupped his face and the man's eyes seemed to be settled on an area just beside his lips. 

Tom smirked at the flushed boy below him, and spoke in a husky voice "You've got a bit of food on your face Harry," He was amused when Harry blushed harder and made to move his face away, and then bring his hands to cover his face, but Tom was having none of it. He moved to grasp Harry's hands and moved his face in close.

Harry gasped when a tongue flickered out onto his face, seeming to lick up whatever food he had gotten onto it. A few moments later the tongue was on his lips, licking and coaxing them open; and Harry could only surrender. Warmth began to pool in his groin as he found himself completely surrounded by the man's presence. Everything about him, those strong hands holding him, the intoxicating scent, how he leaned over and trapped him; Harry found it all intensely erotic. He especially loved it when that talented tongue gently swiped along the roof of his mouth, and made it known by moaning so the man would repeat the actions until he was a panting mess. 

Those lips moved off his own leaving him panting and moaning at the loss. before he could try to move back in, Tom spoke.

"God's, look at you..." It sounded oddly hissed, almost whispered. He found himself replying without meaning to.

"Please," he hissed back. The man's eyes widened and he seemed to freeze in shock for a second. 

He leaned in close again, eyes seeming to peer right into Harry's soul and he squirmed under such scrutiny "Say that again Harry." He whispered, pleadingly almost. 

"Please." Harry noticed his own voice took on the whispered hissed quality and realised with a start he was speaking parseltongue. And from the firm lips crashing onto his own like the world depended on it; Voldemort clearly liked it when he spoke it. 

His squeak as he was picked up was swallowed by Tom, and his legs automatically wrapped around the man to keep from falling. Harry became lost in the kissing. Tom was exploring his mouth so thoroughly, so wonderfully he wondered how he was able to pay attention where he was walking. He'd never imagined kissing could feel this amazing; a part of him wanted to pull away to catch his breath but forced himself to stay because it was simply too amazing to stop. 

He came crashing back to reality when he was released from the man's hold and deposited on a soft bed, bouncing slightly. Somehow they'd made it to the bedroom, and suddenly Harry felt nervous. Seemingly sensing this Tom spoke.

"If you'd like you can go back to your room? Or we can stick to kissing," He trailed off and looked down at the boy expectantly.

Harry nearly wanted to make a snide reply about not being offered to leave at all, only being restricted to the confides of his "room". He doubted Voldemort would just let him up and waltz out of this place, whatever this place was. He managed to hold his tongue; after all, he wasn't being "tortured" in a sense. Well, unless one counted this confusing experience of having an enemy look at you like you're important to them, and touch you in these ways. A part of Harry figured that this was the torture; these mind games. But it seemed much better than being locked in a cell and hurt, so he would deal with it...for now.

"Harry?" The deep voice above him reminded him he hadn't answered. 

Instead of answering the question given he blurted out "Why are you doing this?" 

"Because I want to." The answer was said with such confidence that left no room for argument, but it was such an uninformative reply Harry had to dig deeper.

"But you hate me. Aren't you supposed to want to kill me?" He tensed up when he asked as though suddenly Voldemort would come back to his senses and do just that.

The man was still above his form on the bed, arms either side of his head, looking down at him. His brow crinkled in thought and Harry found his gaze drawn to it. It was strange seeing such mundane expressions on Voldemorts' face. 

"I may have tried to kill you once as a baby, yes. But I've never hated you." 

Harry wondered what it meant when someone could speak so off-handedly about murdering babies; and the fact he was willingly letting this man take control of him and touch him sexually. He supposed it didn't mean much good for either of their mental states. 

The answer given only raised so many more, and he couldn't decide what to ask. There was too much to think on. His cock was fully flacid now from the lack of attention. He debated internally if he should go back to his room; try and gain back a bit of the control this man had taken from him...but the kissing had been amazing and a part of him wanted more now. His eyes glazed as he decided what to do.

Tom must have taken this as him being tired because he suddenly lay down next to him and pulled the covers up around them, transfiguring Harry's clothes into light sleepwear.

Harry made to speak up, after all he'd only woken up hours ago. He doubted he'd be able to get a full sleep now; but Toms' voice hushed him.

"We'll both benefit from a short nap." His tone booked no room for an argument. He was surprised that there was no contact between him and Tom. He'd figured the man would at least be right up next to him, or hold him. Maybe he wasn't a cuddly person? He decided to try and be confident for once. 

He shuffled backwards towards Tom until he was snug against him, and felt the answering huff of laughter. Those strong arms wrapped around him and maneuvered them both into more comfortable positions, with Tom holding him firmly against his chest. He allowed himself to relax, and in no time at all, was lulled into a light relaxing sleep.  


 

THERE WILL BE NO MORE ADDED TO THIS WORK! 

Sorry for anyone who might want to know what happens after this but, hey, use your imagination! This originally was not supposed to go past the first chapter but I got bored one day and began writing more. I don't intend to ever add to this, this chapter is more of a....bonus? I guess? 

Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments!