miracle (miracle) wrote in harrylovesdraco, @ 2004-11-16 19:58:00 |
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Current mood: | tummy ache |
Current music: | Enya.. again |
"Pain"
Original poster: xxroguexheartxx
"Pain"
Rated: NC17
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: Characters here are not mine, so blah :P
Summary: An almost-sequel written in the "Change" universe, in which Draco doesn't realize how much he's been hurting inside all along until Harry takes away his pain.
Genre: PWP/Kink/Romance
Kinks!: Rather descriptive talk of piercing, pain... very minor blood play, and hot, kinky, alley!sex.
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When I had asked Harry why we were going to a muggle piercing shop instead of the much-closer wizard owned parlor, the dark haired boy had only smiled enigmatically. Of course, Harry had announced our intended destination three days ahead of time, thus giving me plenty of time to ponder this. I entertained any number of possibilities that might explain Harry’s decision, ranging from Harry’s own muggle-background, to the other boy not wanting to be seen with me in public. It turned out, however, that the actual reason was nowhere near as deep in meaning as I had supposed, oh no. Realization was slow to dawn though, and I remained curious, if not slightly nervous, as Harry led me out and away from the Leaky Cauldron, down cold, dark, rain slicked alleys and back roads until at last we stood outside a dim and grimy shop, the neon sign above the door flickering in and out, lit only long enough for me to read the one small word that had my heart dropping down into my stomach: “Pain”.
He’s taken me to a little piercing shop in the seedy back alleys of London called “Pain”, and suddenly the real reason for Harry’s decision became very clear; A muggle shop means no magic, no magic means no healing spells, no healing spells means pain, and lots of it. The shop name seemed suddenly very fitting and I began to panic, but by then it was too late for Harry was already leading me inside, the reassuring grasp on my wrist tightening imperceptibly.
The shopkeeper was a young girl, probably no older than mid-twenties, her hair died absinthe green, an irony that hit me hard despite my panic induced haze considering the limitless number of times Harry had tried to persuade me into watching Moulin Rouge (we rarely made it past the “green fairy” part, so I am quite familiar with the color of absinthe). Apart from that her ears were weighted with silver rings, and a tattooed claw reached around her neck, appearing to rip open her throat. She seemed to brighten visibly at the sight of Harry, and had I not been so utterly horrified I would have been profusely jealous. As it were I did not notice, only aware that they exchanged friendly words before she slipped into a side room blocked from sight by a heavy red velvet drape. I was prepared to tell Harry I’d changed my mind, that I didn’t want to go through with it after all but then he glanced down at me and the look on his face froze me where I stood for it was a sight I had not seen in many months, not since that fateful day in the Quidditch showers in fact, and I realized then how utterly important this was to him. Important, in fact, didn’t even seem to cover it as I realized the meaning behind that smile the green-haired girl had given him; this was where Harry had gotten all of his own piercings, and now he’d brought me here as well. Somehow it all seemed suddenly terribly intimate.
I stepped numbly forward as he guided me to the case of jewelry, full of different studs and rings and swirls of metal that made me cringe just to look at them. I found myself queasy at the mere thought of where that metal would soon be going but found the strength to tell Harry he may choose for me. At this he looked so utterly delighted that all remaining thoughts of bolting were diminished and I resigned myself to the excruciating agony that was certainly to come.
Soon after I was led into the same dark room the girl had disappeared to, only now it was no longer dark, but lit by candles, lavender scented, I believe. Despite the calming scent, I’m not sure if the flickering flames were reassuring, or if they terrified me all the more, but then Harry was petting my hair and whispering to me and helping tug off my coat and the shirt underneath. As I sat down on the sole piece of furniture in the room, a long padded bench with a sloping back, the girl brought over a tray, placing it on the end of the bench and setting about marking my nipples with a black pen. Or set about attempting to anyway, for that’s when I caught sight of the pristine needle, still wrapped in plastic, glistening in the candle light. This is also when I began shaking uncontrollably. Luckily, this is also when I felt Harry’s bare, smooth, muscled chest slide against my back, his hands coming around to pet my quivering stomach, murmuring reassurances against my throat between hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses.
The sudden mixture of pleasure with all my apprehension and fear was so great that I whimpered, and I felt the soft vibrations of his laughter in response. I was about to protest being laughed at when I felt the hand on my stomach slip suddenly lower, pushing beneath the waistband of my jeans to grasp my cock at the same moment that the needle plunged through my left nipple. I screamed, I know because my throat is still sore from it, but at the same time I was very aware of the fact that I was now quickly becoming fully hard and twitching in Harry’s grasp, moaning as he gently mouthed the spot beneath my ear. Somewhere far far away the girl was talking again but I paid no attention, instead tipping my head back and catching Harry’s mouth with my own, making him moan and thrust his own impossibly hard cock against my ass. I won’t lie to you and say it didn’t hurt; on the contrary, it was one of the most painful things I have ever endured. Paired with Harry’s incessant stroking though and the hot, wet friction of his tongue against mine, I can also say I’d never been so aroused in my life. When the needle went through my right nipple my entire body arched and I came moaning Harry’s name, whimpering and pleading incoherently, twisting in his grasp to clutch weakly at his chest, his shoulders, his neck, anywhere I could keep my grasp, my entire body trembling with raw feeling. The woman was talking again but Harry had picked me up, lifting me into his arms like a child and cradling me close and the blasted woman would NOT shut up and I found myself dazedly thinking “stupid green fairy… go away,” but somehow, judging from her indignant tone and quick departure, as well as the deep rumbling in Harry’s chest, it had in fact slipped out. Oh well.
Once she left, I confess, I expected Harry to perform a healing charm for me… even just a minor one. Instead, he leaned forward and gave each swollen, freshly metalled nub a gentle kiss that had me gasping down at him, my cock twitching back to life inside my warm, sticky boxers. This is when I got my first look at my very own piercings, a small silver hoop through each nipple. I couldn’t suppress a moan at how good they looked, and how good Harry looked oh so tenderly tonguing my battered flesh. I could feel my cock quickly rising to the occasion once more, practically crying out when Harry began humping my thigh. Of course, this is conveniently when the stupid girl (who I was really beginning to hate at this point) came back in with the bill, and to inform us her next appointment would be arriving any minute.
This is how I have come to be pinned against a rough, rain-slicked wall of a London alleyway, thunder rumbling overhead. Harry’s lips violently part my own, his tongue tangling with mine and muffling my moans as he pushes my shirt back up, stroking along my chest and stomach and using his other hand to pin my wrists. I cry out as his warm, calloused fingers brush along the rings and he abandons my mouth in favor of lapping up the trickle of blood his toying has caused. His mouth is driving me mad and he’s practically ripping off my pants, here in this cold, deserted street, stepping into the circle of my legs, which I quickly tangle around his waist. He takes my weight on easily, continuing his excruciating tongue bath, and now I know he’s simply indulging in the addictive taste of my blood as he all but rips open his pants, fumbling with the bottle of lube that he wisely had the foresight to bring and I snatch it from his hands as he nearly drops it, spreading the gel on my own fingers and spreading myself open for him, groaning helplessly with anticipation.
I’m not the only impatient one, though, for Harry’s already thrusting up against me, delighting in the friction the hot, quivering cheeks of my ass provide. I do not let him continue on for too long though, knowing we’re both too hot to last much longer and I reach between us, grasping his cock and affectionately fingering the ring piercing it’s head before sinking myself down onto him excruciatingly slowly, tightening my legs around his waist until he’s buried full and deep inside me.
Long moments pass as we cling to each other, panting helplessly, hands petting and groping before he recovers enough of his control and proceeds to literally fuck me into the wall. He’s too preoccupied now to bother teasing my nipples, but his thrusts are so deep and hard and ragged that the impact alone makes the tiny rings quiver. I feel my body jarred against the wall with every thrust, but even now, as far gone in passion as he is, Harry’s hand cups the back of my head, cushioning it from the constant impact of our rocking motion. Already his thighs are trembling beneath me, his thrusts uneven, fast and shallow and constant, he pauses for a moment, panting, and realigns his hips, thrusting back in hard and I can feel the ring of his Prince Albert scraping deep inside me, dragging over and pummeling my hypersensitive nerves with heat and friction and just GOOD and now my legs are trembling so hard I can barely keep my grip on him but we’re both so close… so close and gives up cushioning my skull from the jagged cement behind me, instead grabbing the cheeks of my ass, one in each hand and squeezing them, spreading them, pounding into me harder than he ever has before, fucking the noises from my open mouth until I’m a groaning, sweating, writhing, pre-coital mass in his arms and he leans forward, taking one newly pierced nipple between his teeth and TWISTING and that’s all it takes because I’m screaming and crying and coming so hard I black out there in his arms, coherent just long enough to feel him pumping load upon load of come deep inside me.
When I finally wake again I’m curled up warm and safe and dry in his bed, the first rays of sun peaking through the heavy white curtains. At first glance, Harry’s sleeping heavily, snoring softly, seemingly exhausted. But then I look closer, listen harder and I notice the nearly imperceptible smile tugging at his sleep-softened lips, and I realize that he isn’t snoring exactly, it’s more like gentle purring stemming from deep inside his chest and vibrating through my entire body, head to foot. And that’s when I realize something else, something that makes me want to cry and cuddle closer and smile all at once. Last night Harry took me to a place, not just a grimy muggle piercing parlor, but a place inside him, a place from his past he used to escape the pain in his heart with the pain of his body. He took me there because he knew that, like him, I was hurting, and he let me cy and fall apart and hurt, and then when I was done, Harry made the pain go away… and I don’t just mean he healed the piercings.