Freud and his Friends - 10 - The… Games?
----------------------------------------------
!WARNING!: Consensual rape, I think would describe this best. Proceed with caution, and be warned - it's not pretty, at all.
Things, expectedly didn't quite go as planned. They drank, maybe excessively so, but no amount of alcohol got Harry loosened enough to be willing to roughen up Draco. If possible, the alcohol did the opposite - Harry's willingness to try diminished as emotions overcame the reasons Draco gave him, and he said that he just couldn't do it. Won't do it. And that's it.
This, understandably, brought on an argument, in which an inebriated Draco decided to throw caution to the wind and help his boyfriend along in his own, special, way. He upped the argument to a screaming match once they got home, and let his ingrained Malfoy instinct lead the way.
"Are you too chicken? Ha! Harry Potter, the Great Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived, the brave auror, afraid to lift a hand to Draco Malfoy? A boy who raped him? Hahahah……"
"What the Fuck! How could you?! What the fuck do you think you're doing Draco?!"
"Come on, Potter, admit it, you can't even lift your hand! I bet your dick isn't up to it either. Wee little Potter, can't get it up! Ha!"
The unfairness, the twisted meaning of the words, the twisted untruths spilling out of this mouth over the evening, over the last months, over the last seven years finally gathered together to be enough. Harry lost it, let himself lose it. He threw Draco to the wall with a punch to his face, the impact with the hard surface taking the wind of Draco's lungs.
"You're one to talk, Draco. Maybe pervs like you can only get it up for rape, but other people," he pressed closer, almost spitting in the blonde's face with every word, "normal people, Draco, don't need to hurt others to feel good." He stepped back a little, permitting breathing space between them, "But, by all means, Draco, for you, I'll give you what you want, you little shit."
"Yes, that's the spirit, Hero." He smirked, the familiar expression residing in a strange harmony with the fear and eagerness in his eyes; the twisted pink lips offset strangely by the bit of crimson creeping down one nostril towards them.
Harry couldn't believe how far Draco went to get what he wanted, the things he said, the dirt he dragged up from their past. And all of that, just to get Harry realize some sick fantasy of his. The shock, the anger, and the alcohol fused together, making it hard to think of anything beyond hurting Malfoy, the Malfoy he hasn't seen in two years now, the Malfoy he thought didn't exist anymore, one he thought never existed. How wrong he had been! Well that Malfoy he had no problem hurting.
With that thought he grabbed the back of Malfoy's shirt neck, twisting it in his hand, lowering his arm, dragging the little creep with him, half crawling on the floor, half choking, half laughing.
"Angry Harry?"
"Don't speak to me, you worthless piece of shit."
He hefted the lowered body to the bed, seeing it fall in a tangle of limbs, rattling bones, rumpled clothes, unsteady head, thudding on the side of the bed. He grabbed the blond hair and pulled the man by it away from the bed, pinning it to the floor, standing over the prone, still laughing, body, taking his belt off, throwing his shirt open, unzipping his pants and letting them fall down, not bothering to take his shoes off, lowering himself to loom over the boy, face over face, locking their eyes, spitting in that self-satisfied face, in the ever so familiar face of Malfoy. That got a reaction other than laughing. The face twisted even more, unhappy this time, the body under him moving, hands lifting to push him, hit him, slap him? He didn't know. It didn't matter - the hands could do nothing.
He lifted a bit, clutched the boy's shirt once again, lifted him by it, and then drove him to the floor, thrusting the air and movement out of him. With his enemy momentarily out of breath, he sat back on his haunches, leaving his left hand on Malfoy's chest, opening the buckle, flicking a look from his task to make sure the boy was still unmoving in any way, then, putting his knees on the lying man's ankles to stop any escape, he grabbed the boy's trousers and pants ripping them down his victim's legs, down to the knees, shifting to cover Malfoy again, leaning on his left arm, forearm and elbow grinding painfully into Malfoy's chest, the other hand pushing one pant leg further down, finishing the prep of the boy. Of course, that didn't go his way, the little bastard under him started to try and wrench away once more, and Harry relented. There were easier ways to access this body. He flipped the boy to his stomach, revealing the round ass, peppered with pink dots from the carpet and the dirt. The ass was moving, knees trying to get purchase on the floor to crawl away, the detested face looking back over the shoulder, no longer laughing, or smirking, just looking back with hot, hating eyes. The room was filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing, the rustling of clothes and boots on the carpet, but not a one sound of human speech, nothing to remind either who they were. Both men were eerily silent in their scuffle from the moment they entered the bedroom.
Harry felt Malfoy trying to roll over and break the stance Harry had over his body - his hands on the floor on either side of the blonde's back. Harry grinned creually, he wasn't an auror for nothing, this little whelp was no match to him. He pushed down, crashed his knee with all of his body weight on that ass and hip under him, gripping both wrists in one hand pinning them over Malfoy's head, leaning on them while lifting his own hips, spreading Malfoy's hips with his knees, spitting into his other hand and slicking his dick, guiding it to the revealed hole.
The silence of the room was finally breached by a human voice, a scream tearing through the flat, a human in agony, sounding almost, but not quite, like an animal in pain. The sound has covered the grunt of the aggressor, as did the next and the next one. Draco wasn't sure he could handle it anymore. It was dreadful than he's ever imagined, pain ripping though him, reducing his mind and body to a screaming mass of nerves, forcing tears out of his eyes, spasming all his muscles, making things even worse. He didn't know what to do, couldn't gather his mind enough to think of what to do, how to react, all he could do was scream now.
A few thrusts later he managed to remember to try and relax his seized muscles, as the blood seeping out of him helped to further facilitate the movement in him. It helped but not much - with each new thrust the wounds in him were braised again and again. He gave up. He just lay on the floor and whimpered and screamed through it, not fighting any more, bodily or otherwise.
Harry, above him, moved the captured wrists to lie down the sides of his now trounced body, propping most of his weight on each hand, using them as leverage for his thrusts, crushing the thin limbs. Draco could feel his hands going numb from the cut off circulation. He still lay there, not fighting, for the first time in his life acknowledging total defeat.
With a final animalistic grunt Harry finally finished, pushing in for a couple of violent thrusts, stilling, and pulling out of the bleeding orifice. He lifted shakily to his feet and got on the bed, rolling away from the remnants of Malfoy, loosing consciousness to coma-like sleep.
Half hour later Draco finally stirred and pulled himself over the side of the mattress, laying shaking on his stomach, head on the pillow, mind in space, eyes closed. Indefinite time later he finally blacked out.
TBC.