Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11895054.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Tom_Riddle
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Tom_Riddle_|_Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Explicit_Language, Bodily_Fluids, Extremely
      Dubious_Consent, Professor_Harry, Alternate_Universe_-_Student/Teacher,
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, I'm_messing_heavily_with_consent,
      Imperiused_Sex, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Forced_Masturbation, Spit_As_Lube,
      Ambiguous/Open_Ending, Mind_Control, This_messes_heavily_with_consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-24 Completed: 2017-12-01 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 18431
****** I'll Eat Your Heart Out, Sir ******
by Katsitting_(Nekositting)
Summary
     “You smell divine, Professor,” Harry heard Riddle growl, his eyes
     fluttering open to stare intensely into Harry’s own, breath fanning
     across Harry’s lips.
     The boy’s pupils were blown—the black so intense that Harry could not
     discern where the chocolate of the boy’s irises began and where they
     ended. Harry felt like he was being swallowed up by the gaze, a
     hunger so thick in them that Harry could only gape.
     And then Harry recalled just what the potion was meant to do.
     Oh Merlin no.
     “I can practically taste you on my tongue.”
Notes
     Please mind the tags. This is very dubious consent. This was inspired
     by a drabble.
     Please leave comments or kudos! And mind the typos. It happens.
***** Chapter 1 *****
“How is your project coming along, Mr. Riddle?” Harry asked finally, having
gone around the room to discern the progress of each of his individual
students. It was tiresome, and Harry knew better than anyone that this being
the final day made students particularly finicky.
 
Harry had honestly expected the worst.
 
But shockingly enough, most of the potions had been done remarkably well. There
was no explosions, and although there had been a close call earlier with Malfoy
and Lestrange; the disaster had been miraculously avoided. One of the boys had
somehow mistakenly dropped the proper ingredient to cancel out the brilliant
red hue of the potion. The imminent explosion circumvented by some careless
bump of a student’s hip against the table.
 
Harry had not been familiar with what the boys had originally intended to
create, but it didn’t take much common sense to know that red meant bad.
Especially when both boys had paled and had begun scrambling around with their
things in hand like rats scurrying off with a piece of cheese in their mouths.
It had not been conspicuous in any shape, way, or form, and it was a relief
that the worst of the entire affair was a bruised ego, and nota visit to the
Hospital Wing.
 
Merlin knows just how many students had paid Madam Pomfrey a visit just on this
week alone.
 
With that thought, Harry released a deep breath before he turning his gaze to
the Headboy, noting the way the boy was standing straight and alert.
 
Harry knew already that if he wanted to have a better end to his evenings he
should leave the more competent of his students for last. Riddle, so far, had
yet to disappoint and Harry was sure that Riddle would continue to perform well
until graduation.
 
There was no doubt of that.
 
Harry shifted his gaze away from the boy’s inquisitive black eyes to cast a
curious glance at the brew, not the least bit surprised that Harry could not
discern just what the concoction was. Riddle, like Malfoy and Lestrange, had
elected to create his own potion for their project. It was quite the ambitious
venture—the danger quite high should he fail to account for precise and
painstaking art of potions making.
 
An art that Harry himself had been terrible at until he resolved to improve,
studying the delicate science in combination with self-defensive work. Harry
could admit that he was no expert, but at least now, he wasn’t a danger himself
in the classroom. It had taken him too many sleepless nights and even more than
a bit of hounding from Hermione, but he now could at least teach basic stuff.
 
Though this was not quite what Harry had in mind when he decided to become a
professor.
 
Originally, Harry had intended to work as the Defense Against the Dark Arts
professor. A position Harry knew he was more than a little qualified for. Hell,
he was definitely the best candidate for the job if he was being honest. His
best marks had been in D.A.D.A, and Harry had always been interested in dueling
just as much as he was interested in Quidditch.
 
But Dippet had not been convinced of his qualifications, his bearded face and
thin features not nearly as welcoming as Dumbledore’s had been. The headmaster
had been quite adamant about the whole thing, refusing to allow Harry to take
the position due to his “lack of experience” as the man had put. Dippet had
nearly rejected him altogether for any sort of position, but blessedly enough,
Dumbledore had been kind enough to step in and steer the man away from that
dangerous thought.
 
Harry knew he was young, far younger than most professors were allowed to
teach. But toss it, he was perfect. It was a relief that Dippet had caved under
Dumbledore’s gentle prodding and allowed him to take Slughorn’s old position
until the man recovered from whatever disease he had contracted back in Egypt.
It was to serve as a trial run of sorts, and Harry would definitely prove his
worth.
 
And although it was not quite ideal, it was better than being turned away
completely and so, while they had filled the D.A.D.A. position with an interim
professor until another more permanent professor was selected for the role,
Harry would serve as the Potion’s professor in the meantime.
 
Though it was still rather frustrating considering Harry was not even close to
qualified to handle anything Potion’s related. But if Harry wanted to possibly
take over the empty D.A.D.A position, he had to simply clench his jaw and make
do.
 
So it made perfect sense that Harry had no bloody clue what it was that Riddle
was brewing. It was a pink substance, with a slight purple sheen at the
surface. It didn’t look like anything Harry had ever personally made. It didn’t
look dangerous though, and that was admittedly better than whatever Lestrange
and Malfoy had been trying to create.
 
It seemed placid enough. Proper, even. The complete opposite of a disaster.
 
“My potion is going along splendidly, Professor. I believe I have identified
the proper agents to neutralize the volatile nature of the Dementor’s hair,”
Riddle replied, and Harry heaved a relieved sigh at the simple response.
 
Good. It meant less work because quite frankly, Harry had no idea how to
neutralize that finicky ingredient himself.
 
“I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Riddle. Perhaps you would like to tell the class
what it is that you are working on? I believe it would be quite the learning
experience for those that resolved to simply brew Amortentia rather than tackle
a more ambitious venture,” Harry remarked, noting the way Riddle preened under
his compliment.
 
The boy’s lips had twisted into a wide smile, a glimmer in his eyes that belied
just how smug he felt. It was a slight shift in the boy’s normally rather
polite expression, but it was like a ripple in normally stagnant water. A bomb
that had gone off in a silent room.
 
Slytherins, Harry thought with an internal roll of his eyes, all too aware of
their competitive streak, before gesturing for Riddle to speak. A warm smile on
his lips, as he encouraged Riddle to continue.
 
Class was almost over and Harry needed this little discussion over and done
with.
 
“Well, since the assignment originally was to create Amortentia, I deemed it
appropriate to create something along that line,” Riddle began, and Harry
listened, his eyes casually roaming over the boy’s immaculate attire.
 
It was strange just how put together the boy was. No one would think he was
only seventeen with the way he walked and spoke. His manners were impeccable
and his tone always slow and even. His voice, admittedly, had been the first
thing Harry had noticed upon taking the Potion’s post, aside from his
shockingly handsome features.
 
It should have honestly been a crime to be that pretty and perfect, in Harry’s
humble opinion. But Riddle was the ideal student to have. The exact opposite of
what Harry had been back when he was a student and most students in his year,
let alone his own house.
 
Though if Harry listened to the hogwash Dumbledore fed him, he’d think the boy
was the antichrist. Or a future dark lord, using the words of the old coot. The
boy was nothinglike his fellow Slytherins;Riddle kept mostly to himself. He was
rather popular with almost all students from each of the houses, but that was,
by no means, reason to be suspicious of the boy. Everyone liked him, the girls
and the boys even admired him.
 
Dumbledore’s behavior was just weird.
 
Dumbledore from the first day Harry had taken over Slughorn’s position had made
it a habit to warn Harry about the boy. To watch the boy carefully, and if
Harry saw anythingthat could be construed as odd, to contact him immediately.
 
It was complete bollocks and honestly, prejudicial.
 
Harry simply did not understand the sentiment. The young man behaved just fine,
if not better than most of his peers, and he was incredibly intelligent. He
knew more about potions than Harry himself did, and although that was
frustrating considering Riddle wasn’t a potion’s master, it was definitely
impressive to listen to the boy chime in with answers to the questions Harry
threw out for the class.
 
Riddle was going to be someone someday. Of that, Harry was more than certain.
 
“You see, rather than create a simple love potion to induce such a powerful
feeling of affection in the drinker, why not instead create something that
would make you irresistible to all those around you? Instead of the drinker
becoming the one drunk off the potion, why not have those around the person
become attracted to the drinker, instead?” Riddle inquired, and Harry was
awestruck.
 
It was an interesting thought, and a dangerous one as well.
 
It would definitely lead to loads of trouble, and it was fortunate, indeed,
that it was Riddle rather than some other cheeky seventh year making the brew.
If it were anyone else taking a stab at the potion, Harry might have
immediately put a stop to it. Knowing for a fact that it could be used for
nefarious purposes.
 
But this was Riddle: Headboy and one of the brightest students in his class.
The boy may have been a Slytherin, but he was possibly the nicest of the bunch.
 
The nicest Harry had ever met, if he were being honest. And he had more than
enough dealings with Slytherins to know their ilk.
 
“Well then, it seems like we’ve run out of time. Thank you for humoring me, Mr.
Riddle. Be sure to put your potions in a stasis charm before you leave!” Harry
called out, the shuffling of papers and bags nearly drowning out his voice as
students began to rush out of class and to dinner.
 
It was the last class of the day, and Harry understood the sentiments of his
students well. They didn’t want to be there any more than Harry did.
 
“Professor Potter, do you have a moment?” Riddle voice interrupted Harry’s
mental musings, his green eyes shooting out to stare at Riddle’s polite face.
 
Sometimes Harry wondered if it was a mask more often than not, if Riddle was
truly as nice as he was because Harry could not recall ever seeing anything but
a soft, pleasant expression on the boy’s face. Harry had managed to see minor
flashes of emotion in the boy’s expression when he was focused on something or
when Harry complimented his skills, but it was never anything...intense.
 
It made Harry wonder if the boy was capable of strong emotion at all.
 
“Of course, how can I help you?” Harry noticed how Riddle stood up straighter,
his eyes flashing with something before the emotion disappeared as quickly as
it came.
 
Odd, Harry thought as he tried to make sense of what just happened before
discarding the thought when Riddle smiled sheepishly at him.
 
“You see, I have managed to neutralize the Dementor’s hair, but there is
something I am still rather unsure about. I thought to add white poppies
to...coax a more visceral response, considering both its healing and addictive
qualities, but I was unsure,” Riddle hedged, his hesitation so out of character
that Harry was struck dumb by it.
 
The boy was asking himfor potion’s advice? Harry could hardly believe it.
 
Harry stepped around the desk, his robes catching on one of the vials sitting
precariously by the cauldron, to take note of the different ingredients on the
table. Harry heard the faint sound of glass shattering, the sound closer than
Harry was comfortable with, before the pink liquid inside the cauldron exploded
into a myriad of different colors.
 
Red. Blue. Purple. Lilac.
 
It was the only warning Harry had before the liquid burst forth from the open
maw of the cauldron, the droplets flying out.
 
Harry had a split second to push Riddle out of the way before the liquid gushed
over him, the hot brew like acid as it drenched his hair and face in the
viscous substance; his nose clogged by the bitter liquid and his mouth tasting
annoyingly like nickels and rosemary.
 
Harry hastily yanked his wand from his pocket, clenching his jaw as the potion
singed his skin, and immediately casted the first spell he could think of to
suppress the explosion. He managed to contain the explosion to the desk, the
liquid splattering the potion’s book Riddle had left lying on the table and
various beakers and flasks, but the damage had already been done.
 
His upper body was drenched.
 
With a curse, Harry vanished the cauldron and all the ingredients lying on
Riddle’s desk, a twinge of sympathy on his brow when the book was vanished
along with it. The tome had been completed ruined, and it was possibly all that
Riddle could afford.
 
Harry knew of Riddle’s orphan status. The fund was out there to help such
students, but it barely covered anything at all. And of course, money simply
did not come easy, especially when you’re a student and not permitted to really
work.
 
Riddle couldn’t afford it, but Harry certainly could. He’d purchase the
Potion’s book in compensation for his fuck up. It was the least he could do for
both ruining the potion and the only book Riddle could afford.
 
Merlin, I’m worse than the Longbottoms.
 
Harry groaned internally, before waving his wand again to scougify the lilac
puddle from all over the desk and floor, cleaning his robes last as he did so.
His relief instant when his robes no longer felt like they were fused together
with his bare skin.
 
Harry heaved a heavy sigh.
 
His skin stung, but it was not the worst injury had ever sustained in his life.
Nothing compared to the scrapes he had often gotten in as a teen.
 
Well, this is wasn’t so bad—
 
Harry froze, panic exploding in his gut so swiftly his vision blurred.
 
Potion. You got drenched with a potion, you ninny!
 
Harry’s mind reeled,  the acrid taste of nickels and rosemary still a foreign
weight in the back of his throat.
 
I hope this doesn’t kill me, Harry thought. His heart beating rapidly as he
considered all the horrible things that could happen to him. Dread a disturbing
weight in his gut.
 
Harry waited for the tell-tale sign of the potion taking effect. For the magic
to turn him into some bizarre creature. For his limbs to collapse or his mind
to muddle.
 
But there was nothing. Just the rank taste and the unfamiliar burn of liquid
traveling up his nose and throat.
 
Everything seemed fine, and after waiting several more moments, Harry slumped
with relief apparent on his features, and shot a glance to the boy sprawled on
the floor a meter or so away.
 
Concern quickly overshadowed all relief on Harry’s face, recalling just then
that he’d practically hurled the boy out of the potion’s exploding range.
 
Harry was rooted in place, unsure of what to do in that second.
 
Several seconds passed before Riddle jerked, his hand pressing onto the ground
to try to propel himself up, but failing to do so. It was that gesture that
spurred Harry into motion, clearly the boy was notalright and was in definite
need of assistance. Harry shuffled over to help the boy up, his arm jutting out
awkwardly right beneath the boy’s nose to coax the boy to reach for it.
Riddle’s eyes were squinted, more closed than open, and Harry felt guilt flare
up in his gut once more at the sight the boy made.
 
Riddle’s hair was in total disarray, more a bird’s nest than the impeccable
coif he typically styled it to, his robes dusty from having landed on the
ground, and if Harry squinted, he could even see a bright red bruise on the
boy’s cheek from when he landed on his side on the ground.
 
Harry’s guilt grew heavier, the feeling twisting his insides funnily. It had
been his fault in the first place that the potion had exploded. If he hadn’t
been so careless Riddle might not have gotten hurt in the first place. And now,
Harry likely had to take Riddle to the Hospital Wing in the event that he
concussed his student.
 
Good job, Harry.
 
It was fortunate that a bruise and a hard fall was the worst of it though. It
didn’t look quite as serious as it could have been had Riddle gotten the full
brunt of the spell, and that was at least something.Though convincing himself
of that was a difficult feat. It was still rather shite that he’d landed Riddle
in the Hospital Wing due to hiscarelessness.
 
“Are you alright, Mr. Riddle? I am so sorry. I ruined your potion. We have to
get you to the nurse,” Harry apologized profusely, noting how Riddle’s fingers
finally reached out to thread in his hand, Riddle’s grip surprisingly tight and
unyielding considering how disheveled he looked while sprawled on the ground.
 
The boy had yet to open his eyes, and Harry felt his concern elevate into panic
when Riddle failed to say anything to him.
 
Harry was prepared to start casting all the spells he knew to get the boy up
when Harry saw the boy’s nostrils flare, the boy’s jaw clenching and
unclenching. Almost like Riddle was trying to rein himself in, or control
something.
 
It was the only warning Harry had before Riddle, rather than let Harry to lift
him up, yanked so harshly on his arm that Harry’s balance slipped.
 
Harry yelped, his free hand jutting out to splay over the hard ground beside
Riddle’s head to prevent his face from smashing into Riddle’s own. It fortunate
that Harry had been Seeker back in his days; he would have smashed their
foreheads together if he hadn’t reacted in time.
 
Shite, what was that?
 
With a furrow of his brow, Harry composed himself before focusing his vision on
the boy’s face beneath him, Harry’s face going white as a sheet when he
realized that his mouth was uncomfortably close to Riddle’s.
 
“You smell divine, Professor,” Harry heard Riddle growl, his eyes fluttering
open to stare intensely into Harry’s own, breath fanning across Harry’s lips.
 
The boy’s pupils were blown—the black so intense that Harry could not discern
where the chocolate of the boy’s irises began and where they ended. Harry felt
like he was being swallowed up by the gaze, a hunger so thick in them that
Harry could only gape.
 
And then Harry recalled just whatthe potion was meant to do.
 
Oh Merlin no.
 
“I can practically taste you on my tongue.”
 
Harry scrambled to get up, horror dawning on his features when Riddle twisted;
reversing their positions on the dirty floor.
 
Harry grunted, his back landing hard on the floor with Riddle’s taller frame
straddling his own on the ground. Harry’s glasses, miraculously, still propped
against his nose.
 
It took Harry several seconds for his world to realign after being spun so
suddenly, and when it did, Harry regretted the instant he came to his senses.
 
Riddle looked completely unhinged, his eyes wild and hungry as they took Harry
in. He was disheveled, his hair twisted and his cheeks flushed, as if he were
burning with a fever.
 
“Mr. Riddle you are not yourself…” Harry tried to reason, but stopped when
Riddle’s hands pressed onto his shoulders, and shoved him more harshly onto the
ground, the boy’s body flush against Harry’s own.
 
This is not right.
 
Harry was so close that he could count the lashes in the boy’s eyes, could
taste the treacle tart Riddle had eaten for lunch and the faint smell of
cologne the boy had likely put on that morning. This was closer than Harry had
ever wanted to be to Riddle.
 
Harry was horrified.
 
“I disagree, Professor. I have never been more myself than at this moment,”
Riddle murmured before leaning in closer, his short hair tickling Harry’s
forehead as the boy practically devoured him with his gaze.
 
Harry felt a nervous sweat begin to bead along his back.
 
“Riddle! I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry threatened, his fingers reaching for
the wand tucked away in his robes.
 
He was staring intensely into Riddle’s eyes, waiting for some sort of lucidity
to take hold of his expression. But there was no recognition that Riddle had
even heard what Harry said. It was as if Harry was speaking to an animal rather
than a person.
 
Just what bloody potion was this?
 
“...Hurt me?” Riddle intoned, breathing the words out and making Harry squirm
when Riddle’s leaned in until his lips were touching his cheek. “With what
wand?”
 
Harry’s eyes narrowed, confusion twisting his lips into a frown before he felt
the familiar weight of his wand in his pocket vanish.
 
What the fuck.
 
Harry reeled.
 
“H-how did you—?”
 
“Take your wand?” Riddle interrupted smoothly, something predatory flashing in
his gaze, before his lips trailed up his cheek and to his ear.
 
“You let your guard down, Professor. You underestimated your opponent…” Riddle
crooned before his lips smoothed over his ear, his teeth catching on the lobe
to bite lightly at the skin.
 
Harry shivered, unsure and disturbed.
 
What was that even?
 
Harry planted his hands on Riddle’s shoulders, ready to shove the boy off him
because this was not bloody happening, but Riddle, as if sensing Harry’s
intentions, twisted his legs to trap Harry’s shaking legs between his own, and
grabbed onto Harry’s wrists, squeezing the flesh so tightly that Harry swore
he’d have bruises. Harry tried to jerk his feet out from the hold, writhing and
squirming.
 
But when Riddle bloody moaned into his ear, Harry immediately ceased.
Harry doubted he could have been anymore embarrassed.
 
“Riddle, I am warning you. I know you’re not yourself but don’t make me—”
 
“Incarcerus.”
 
Harry gaped, both impressed and horrified by Riddle’s impressive show of
wandless magic as his hands were bound and forced away from Riddle’s shoulders.
His wrists tied and pinned above his head through the will of the boy’s magic
alone.
 
Harry felt the ropes snake around his ankles, cutting the circulation of his
legs when Riddle finally released his grip and the ropes parted his legs, and
bound his ankles to his thighs, his knees jutting out awkwardly in the strange
pose.
 
“R-riddle! This is inappropriate. I’m your professor!”Harry squeaked, a bright
blush flaring on his cheeks when Riddle laughed into his ear, the sound husky
and warm.
 
Harry did not know what he was going to do. He was bound up like some virgin
sacrifice about to be ravished by some rogue in a bodice ripper novel. He
needed to do something, to get Riddle back to his senses.
 
Harry could lose his job for this. Hell, anyone could walk in at that moment
and find them in this precarious position.
 
This wouldn’t look good at all for Harry, but Riddle was not bloody listening
to reason.Merlin, why did Dippet have to force him to be a Potion’s professor.
How the fuck was he supposed to undo whatever it was that Riddle brewed?
 
“And you think that will discourage me, Harry?” Harry felt like he was going to
have a heart attack.
 
Riddle had just called him by his first name.
 
Riddle had just pinned him to the dirty floor in possibly one of the most
isolated places in all of Hogwarts.
 
Riddle and he were alonewhen everyone else was sitting for dinner.
 
No one would come down to the dungeons in search of them. They were alone for
lord knows how long, and Harry renewed his squirming despite the risk of Riddle
moaning into his ear. All concern at the consequences of being found discarded
because, fuck it, losing his job was better than whatever the boy planned to
do.
 
Harry couldn’t just bloody lie there!
 
“You’re young, perhaps seven years my senior at most. You’re intelligent,
despite your abysmal skills with potions making…” Harry sputtered, incensed at
that comment.
 
Well, at least Harry knew exactly what Riddle thought of him then. The
politeness had definitely been a mask.
 
“And your smell, it is bathed on your skin…” Harry gasped when Riddle bit more
harshly into his ear, and then pressed his tongue across the hurt skin to
soothe the sting.
 
“I want to devour you, Professor…”
 
Harry groaned when one of Riddle’s hands cupped Harry’s cock through his robes,
his fingers easily teasing along the ridge of his hardening prick.
 
Think of dead cats. Think of anything else but the fact that Riddle is groping
you.
Harry thought desperately, trying to drown out the feeling of Riddle’s hands on
his cock with horrid images at the back of his mind.
 
Harry cried out when Riddle squeezed his cock hard, the fabric of his robes
doing little to protect the sensitive flesh as Riddle began to twist and knead.
Harry could feel each individual stroke as if Riddle’s hand was actually
fisting him skin to skin, and Harry wondered faintly if Riddle had done
something because this wasn’t normal. This sensitivity was notnormal.
 
“Do you like that, Professor? That someone you thought your inferior is
debasing you in this way?” Riddle purred, clamping his teeth hard on Harry’s
neck and forcing another pained cry from Harry’s lips.
 
Merlin, I’m acting like a sodding virgin…
 
“Piss off,” Harry retorted, toes curling pleasantly when Riddle increased his
pace, his grip almost unbearably tight.
 
Then there was a whisper, a line of words so soft that Harry couldn't quite
catch what they were.
 
And then all of his clothes melted away, vanishing as quickly as the cauldron
brewing Riddle’s potion had.
 
Harry froze, horror and mortification so thick on his face that when Riddle
finally pulled his face away from his neck, he didn’t think before spitting at
him.
 
“Stop this now,”Harry demanded, all thought of the fact that Riddle was not
himself overshadowed by his anger and panic.
 
This is bloody ridiculous. Harry wasn’t some damsel in distress. He was a
bloody wizard.A professor.
 
Riddle was only a student. He shouldn’t be capable of this.
 
What kind of bloody potion was this?
 
“Was that an order?” Riddle asked innocently, his hunger still apparent on his
gaze. But there was something else there, an emotion that Harry had never seen
before on the boy’s face. Not in the entire year since taking on the Potion’s
position.
 
“I do not take ordersfrom anyone, Harry. I am the one in control, and you…”
Riddle hissed, anger melding with the hunger still thick on his features,  as
his grip on Harry’s cock tightened to the point of pain-—the pleasant sensation
chased away by agony.
 
“...should know your place,” Harry’s brain was reeling, confusion and surprise
shooting through him because this was definitely notperfectly behaved, innocent
Riddle.
 
This was someone else. Someone that Harry did not know and did not wish to
know.
 
What was in that bloody potion?
 
“I’m not your slave, I am your professor. I am the authority—”
 
Harry whined suddenly when Riddle’s hand began to stroke him once more, the
other hand sliding across the skin of his chest before latching onto his right
nipple to play with the nub.
 
A shot of adrenaline crawled up his spine, the pleasure such a shock that Harry
could not even think to finish his sentence.
 
“Oh, Harry, we all know that is not true. Look at how you melt from just a
little teasing along your skin.”
 
Harry wanted to deny it, but just as his mouth parted to speak the words,
Riddle suddenly twisted Harry’s nipple and the words died at his throat.
 
“I knowyou want me. Your glances were never discrete…” Harry felt humiliation
burn over his cheeks, the warmth traveling down his chest.
 
He couldn’t have…
 
“Admit it, Professor, you found me desirable. Enough that your eyes could look
at no other but me when I walked into a room…”
 
“No, that’s not true!” Harry denied through the pleasured haze of Riddle’s
fingers over his skin, his eyes slipping shut when Riddle rolled his nipple
between his fingers in tandem with each twist of his fingers over his cock; the
teen’s thumb teasing his slit each time Riddle slid his hand from Harry’s
bollocks to the head of his cock.
 
“Liar,” Riddle growled and Harry panted, feeling something begin to build low
at his belly. The threat of orgasm more real than ever as Harry tried to fight
off the ecstasy dancing along his spine.
 
“Secretly, you’re grateful that the potion erupted…” Riddle was staring into
Harry’s eyes, and Harry could not find it in himself to look away. He knew he
was blushing, and he knew that it revealed just how affected he was.
 
But Riddle’s black eyes ate him alive—they held his gaze captive, more tightly
bound than even the restraints keeping Harry’s body pinned down.
 
“Maybe you even did it on purpose...how devious of you.” Harry moaned when
Riddle released his nipple and began to flick the other, the nub surprisingly
more sensitive than the one Riddle had been abusing earlier. With Harry’s
impending orgasm weighing heavily in his gut, Harry bit his own tongue to stop
himself from tipping over the edge.
 
The fall was too steep.
 
But it was hard to resist when Riddle’s hands worked him with patient and even
strokes, coaxing short gasps and pleased moans despite how tightly his teeth
clamped on his tongue. And then Riddle dug his nail into his cockhole, and
Harry could not stop himself from jerking in response, his limbs straining and
his spine arching the closer and closer he came to orgasm; his body disobeying
him.
 
Please no. Don’t.
 
Harry did not want to orgasm. He didn’t want to give the boy the satisfaction.
To fall would be to admit defeat. It would be as good as a confession. A
confirmation of all those lewd things the boy claimed he was.
 
Even if, admittedly, Harry did think Riddle was too pretty for his own good.
Even if his eyes did stray in Riddle’s direction one too many times throughout
the year.
 
“I know you’re close, Professor. I can feel each ripple of muscle beneath my
hands, can see each twinge and jerk of your limbs every time I stroke you just
like this,” Riddle twisted his cock, his grip firm and Harry could not stifle a
high-pitched cry as he was forced over the edge. His orgasm blinding as his
limbs shook and twitched from the power of it.
 
Harry wanted to curse himself—to cry and yell at the same time.
 
Harry splattered all over the Riddle’s hand, his half-lidded gaze shooting down
to watch his cock coat the boy’s hand with his fluids. The sound of his cock
being fisted loud in the room as Riddle did not desist in his motions. Harry
whined, oversensitive from his orgasm, but still Riddle did not stop.
 
The pleasure quickly shifted to pain. An overwhelming sensitivity doing little
for his sanity as Harry squirmed and writhed to escape from the constant press
of Riddle’s thumb against his slit, and the tight confinement of his hand
clutching around his shaft.
 
All while his fingers squeezed and teased his nipples.
 
“Tom please sto—ah!” Harry cried out, watching how Riddle’s lips twisted into a
satisfied smile as he did the exact opposite.
 
“No.”
 
And the Riddle smashed his lips against Harry’s, his teeth catching on Harry’s
lip before biting hard on the skin hard enough to draw blood. Harry clamped his
mouth shut, but Riddle, as if sensing his intentions, squeezed his cock so hard
that Harry’s mouth parted to release a loud shout.
 
The pain was incredible.
 
Riddle seized the opening to slip inside, his mouth wild as they sucked on his
lips like a parched man. Harry could hardly keep up, Riddle’s tongue teasing
along his gums and his bottom lip expertly to elicit the right responses from
Harry’s mouth. Harry felt Riddle’s tongue run across his bottom lip lightly,
before taking the appendage into his mouth, sucking on it hard hard before
sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh.
 
Harry hissed, and Riddle moaned, releasing his lip to slip back into Harry’s
parted mouth, his tongue running over the roof of his mouth.
 
Harry felt lost and afloat, his toes and fingers tensing and flexing when
Riddle sucked Harry’s tongue into his mouth after teasing along with mouth, his
teeth clamping around it lightly to elicit a pained cry straight from Harry’s
throat.
 
I’m losing my bloody mind.
 
And then Riddle released his lips to trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck,
his teeth scratching and his tongue licking a burning path down his throat.
Harry twitched and groaned when Riddle hit the sensitive patch just between his
shoulder and his neck, and felt the familiar pressure of orgasm ghosting along
his gut.
 
All while Riddle continued squeeze and tease at his prick.
 
Harry did not want to know what his neck was going to look like at the end of
this. Of what he must look like now, as Riddle ravaged him like some horny
teenager. But the first thing he was going to do when he got out of this mess
was the glamour that mess away.
 
“Salazar, your taste…” Riddle moaned into his throat. He was nipped across
Harry’s collarbone, his teeth and tongue making him jerk and twist within his
restrains. Gasping, euphoria twined around Harry’s spine when Riddle suddenly
latched onto his nipples.
 
Harry saw white, his mouth parting without his permission.
 
A throaty moan was ripped from his throat when his second climax consumed him,
his limbs trembling profusely as he tried to fight off the bliss dancing along
his skin.
 
Several seconds passed before Riddle released his nipple, the cold air fanning
against Harry’s wet nipple making Harry breathe in sharply.
 
“Your nipples are quite sensitive, Professor. My hand is completely drenched in
your juices.”
 
Harry wanted to die. He truly did in that second. Anything was preferable to
having his many sins shoved right under his nose.
 
Harry never thought that Riddle would be such a pervert.
 
Merlin, just what was in that potion.
 
“Riddle no more—oh!”
 
And then Riddle’s mouth took his nipple into his mouth once more, his teeth
catching onto the delicate nub before taking it between his teeth.The hand on
his cock, finally, mercifully, stopping in his ministrations and pulling away.
 
Harry could have cried with relief.
 
Harry froze, his relief immediately lost,  when he felt the hand slip beneath
his balls, a long, wet finger slipping down his arse, between his crack, to
touch along his arsehole.
 
He wouldn’t.
 
Harry shook, and squirmed. He tried to move away as far as possible from the
finger probing against his hole. But there was nowhere for him to go.
 
“Don’t,” Harry begged, throwing his pride and dignity to the wind because for
all his experience with women. He had never been with a man before. He had
kissed and even played with a man’s prick in the past, but there was certainly
something left to be said about playing pitcher. “Please don’t,” Harry
repeated.
 
Harry had never fucked or been fucked by a man, and he certainly did not want
his first time with Riddle.
 
Liar, a voice whisper teased across the back of his mind. But Harry shoved that
traitorous thought as far as he could, focusing instead on the issue at hand.
 
Like the fact that Riddle had stopped sucking at his nipple and was staring
quite intensely at him in the eyes, for one.
 
Riddle looked pensive, his lips neutral despite the sweat beading at his
forehead and the redness on his cheeks.
 
There was hunger still swirling in his gaze, but there was something else. An
almost possessive gleam in them that set Harry totally on edge.
 
“I will not hurt you…” Riddle promised, the seriousness with which he said it
doing little to calm Harry’s nerves because that certainly did not sound like
Riddle was going to stop.
 
Harry felt Riddle press more firmly against his hole, and Harry tensed, dread
twisting his stomach into knots.
 
“...much.”
 
And then Riddle grinned, all teeth, before shoving his finger inside and
twisting.
 
Harry yelped, unable to stop himself from clenching onto that finger as tightly
as he could when Riddle laughed at him, eyes dancing merrily as he began to
move his finger with little regard for Harry’s pained sounds.
 
It burned. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable thing Harry had ever
experienced, but then Riddle pulled out, the relief short lived, before Riddle
slid back in, over and over again.
 
His finger was not gentle by any means, and Harry found himself closing his
eyes in humiliation when Riddle winked at him, the mischief dancing along with
the hunger doing little for his self-control.
 
Perhaps, if Harry thought of something else, it might end more quickly? But how
was Harry supposed to bloody ignore that when Riddle was—
 
Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth parting to release a choked sound when Riddle’s
finger suddenly brushed against something, like a finger poking into an
electrical socket.
 
What was that?
 
Harry cried out again when Riddle pressed against it once more, his eyes
staring unseeingly at Riddle’s face as the boy continued to abuse his prostate.
 
Harry had read enough to know that this had to be it. But nothing could have
ever prepared him for the thrill that crawled up his spine, or the mind-numbing
pleasure that ate away at any sense of rationality in his brain.
 
It was suffocating and delicious. It was singlehandedly better than anything
Harry had ever felt before.
 
Harry didn’t even notice when Riddle shoved a second finger inside, the burn
nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure that warmed his insides each time
Riddle just twisted his fingers just so.
 
Harry was bucking into the boy’s hand before he knew it, his mind chasing the
delicious sensations Riddle elicited in him.
 
In that moment, Harry was not a professor nor was he an older man possibly
sleeping with a compromised student.
 
Here and now, he was Harry Potter. And Riddle was fucking him too good on his
fingers for him to think to resist.
 
“More,” Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering shut when Riddle shoved a third
finger inside in response to his request, a moan leaving his lips.
 
Morgana, why does it feel so good?
 
“I thought you didn’t want this, Professor?”Riddle teased, his fingers curling
and scissoring inside him as he spoke. Harry did not have the presence of mind
to even think of responding, instead he fluttered his eyes open to shoot the
boy an angry look.
 
“I thought that I wasn’t myself. Perhaps I should stop now?” Riddle inquired
and Harry almost gaped, ire and desperation twisting his lips into a frown. No,
Riddle couldn’t possible stop now.
 
“N-no, don’t you dare.”
 
Harry gasped when Riddle pulled his fingers out from his arse, the emptiness
both disappointing and relieving.
 
Harry’s mind felt less cloudy, his mental faculties returning to him like a
punch in the stomach. Embarrassment and shame were among the first to return,
and Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl into the ground and die.
 
They were the most powerful emotions, easily overshadowing the indignation he
felt burning across his skin. But Harry clutched tightly onto his anger despite
it—he wasn’t ready to deal with his...other more dangerous feelings.
 
“You son of a bitch,” Harry snarled, and Riddle froze above him, his expression
suddenly stormy and the hunger dimming slightly.
 
“I was planning to be more gentle, but it seems, that my generosity is lost on
you,” Riddle hissed, and Harry gasped when Riddle grabbed onto his knee and
pushed them back, nearly parallel to his shoulders, practically bending Harry
into a pretzel.
 
Harry groaned from the discomfort, his cheeks flushing a brighter red when
Riddle’s gaze was level with Harry’s hard cock and his arshole.
 
“Stop looking at me,” Harry said instead, and Riddle stopped for a moment; his
anger momentarily dispelled.
 
Do I really sound so pathetic that it is enough to snap even an enraged
hormonal teenager from their anger?
 
Harry doubted he would ever live this day down. Being called out for finding
the boy handsome, and molested, all on top of sounding like some kicked puppy,
was definitely not what Harry planned for his Friday evening.
 
“...Perhaps there is another way to punish you.”
 
Harry did not like the sound of that at all. Especially not when Riddle shot
him a mischievous look before leaning forward, his hands still pressed tightly
on his knees.
 
Harry felt incredibly exposed. More than he had ever been in his entire life.
And he had experienced some embarrassing things in his lifetime.
 
“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell, Professor,” Riddle breathed
against his bollocks. And then the boy was licking from his balls and up to his
head, the touch making Harry twitch and writhe in pleasure as he tortured Harry
within an inch of his life with his tongue and teeth, until finally engulfed
him.
 
Harry hissed, the feeling of Riddle’s hot and wet mouth on his cock making his
toes curl as Riddle swallowed him, his throat tight and delicious as it
enclosed around him.
 
Riddle took Harry completely into his mouth, stopping to flicker his gaze up to
Harry’s half-lidded gaze, his eyes glimmering like precious onyx gems. Harry
swore under his breath when Riddle moaned with his cock deep in the boy’s
throat, the vibrations so intense that Harry could feel them dance along his
spine.
 
Merlin.
 
“Fuck,” Harry cursed when Riddle began to bob his head, sucking on his cock as
if he had far too much experience doing so, ripping another cry from Harry’s
mouth.
 
Harry could feel his tongue flicking over his head, Riddle knowing just where
to tease as he forced himself to take Harry’s entire cock into his throat, each
and every time. The boy did not gag, and Harry wondered if he should be
concerned or impressed by this fact.
 
Harry felt that damning pressure begin to build over his navel, his body
twisting and jerking each time Riddle’s teeth grazed up his sensitive shaft
before nipping at his head.
 
It was painful, but Harry was more frightened of the fact that he did not hate
it. The pain, instead of dampening his desire, only seemed to push him closer
to the edge.
 
That was just unacceptable.
 
Harry didn’t think he could handle a third orgasm after the last two. It was
too many in one afternoon. Too intense. Especially not from being bitten.
 
“R-riddle,” Harry tried to say, but when the student in question tensed his jaw
and bit in retaliation onto his head, Harry lost all recollection of what he
was going to say. His eyes fluttering shut to erase the pretty image of Riddle
between his thighs.
 
The pain and the pleasure melded easily, the two balanced so seamlessly that
Harry released a protesting whine when Riddle released Harry’s cock with a wet
pop to lick and suck at his bollocks instead; the touch driving him near
insanity.
 
Harry felt like he was ready to burst, and Riddle was only toying with his
balls.
 
Morgana, help me.
 
“Enough,” Harry gasped, twitching in the boy’s hold when Riddle slid lower
still, his mouth too close to Harry’s arsehole.
 
He wouldn’t, Harry gaped and squirmed, his movements fruitless as the boy
flickered his gaze to his own before bloody winking at him.
 
And then Harry felt moist heat prod his rim, a tongue teasing along the
sensitive hole.
 
“Sweet Godric.”
 
Riddle buried his tongue inside, and Harry saw white. A third orgasm
splattering Riddle’s face as Harry felt his muscles sag, his chest heaving as
he tried to regulate his shallow breathing. It was just the lightest press, the
faintest whisper, but Harry did not stand a chance. He didn’t care that he had
come from that.
 
No one had ever done that before.
 
“I’d have preferred my name, but I suppose we can fix that rather shortly,”
Harry felt Riddle murmur into his arsehole, and Harry felt humiliation burn
more brightly over his insides even through the post-orgasmic haze, his limbs
shaking as he tried to blink away the tears of embarrassment gathering in his
eyes.
 
“Not bloody likely,” Harry shot back, and gasped when Riddle flickered his gaze
back to his own, wide green eyes. Riddle’s black hair was wet with Harry’s
white cum, the fluid dribbling down Riddle’s cheek.
 
He looked a complete mess, and Harry was awestruck by the sight.
 
Somehow, even in such a state, the boy still looked beautiful.
 
Riddle’s cheeks were red, and his mouth was puffy, but there was power in his
gaze. Anyone that looked at him, even in with this rather lewd appearance,
would never doubt just who was the one in charge.
 
“Delicious.”
 
Harry wanted to faint.
 
Riddle straightened, his waist now level with Harry’s arse, one of his hands
releasing one of Harry’s knees. Riddle then waved his arm to vanish his robes
and Harry felt his anxiety shoot through the roof. Harry knew what was coming
next. Riddle was practically glowing with excitement.
 
Harry could only stare helplessly at the boy’s belt buckle, watching how Riddle
loosened his belt, and slipped his fingers lower to open the fly of his pants.
The sound of his zipper so loud in the room that Harry couldn’t help but
flinch, his stomach twisting into knots.
 
“R-riddle, you don’t have to do this,” Harry tried, but the boy shot him an
incredulous look. Disapproval and exasperation twisting his lips into a
grimace. Harry swallowed when Riddle slipped his hand inside to pull out his
large, thick cock from his pants despite the frustration clear on the boy’s
face.
 
No bloody way is that going anywhere near me.
 
Harry tried to fight off the boy’s hold on his knee, but Riddle held him
firmly, his grip unyielding, as he pressed his cock up against Harry’s
quivering hole.
 
“At least use lube…”Harry suggested instead, and that seemed to stop the boy in
his tracks. A smirk twisting his expression before he waved his hand;  his cock
now coated with a clear, viscous fluid.
 
“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this. I was simply going to go in without
any preparation but your wanton sounds stayed my hand…” Riddle said, pressing
his blunt head to Harry’s arsehole and smearing cold lubricant against his
cheeks.
 
“I was resolved to break you apart beneath my hands. To rip your precious
control apart, and my, a simple brush of a finger against your prostate
certainly did just that…” Harry colored at that, his face so hot that he could
probably fry an egg on his cheeks, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to
think of something to say.
 
Fuck, but what could I even say?
 
“And then I just had to taste you. You taste quite sweet Harry, almost like
that last remnant of innocence I plan to steal from you.”
 
How Riddle knew he had never lain with a man, was a mystery Harry did not want
to pursue.
 
“Shut up,” Harry finally said, but Riddle simply quirked a brow at him,
mischief swimming within his gaze, before forcing the tip of his large cock in,
his girth stretching Harry painfully.
 
“R-riddle, oh Merlin,” Harry cried out, his fingernails digging into his own
palms as Riddle continued to push in with little regard for Harry’s discomfort.
His prick split Harry in two, and stabbed along his spine.
 
Harry could only watch as Riddle’s bit his lower lip in absolute bliss, the
black of his eyes so intense that Harry felt like he was going to be swallowed
whole.
 
Riddle pushed further in, and Harry snapped his gaze away, the fullness and the
pain making his vision swim.
 
“You’re too big. Y-you’re breaking me in two,” Harry jerked his head to and
fro, his eyes clamping shut as he tried to relax his muscles, crying out when
he felt another stab of pain cut through his psyche when Riddle finally buried
his entire cock inside.
 
“Good, you’ll come to like the pain,” Riddle replied instead, and Harry nearly
lost it when Riddle pulled out just as he had settled into Harry’s arse, only
to push back in, ramming into his prostate with a precise shift of his hips.
 
Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, momentarily lost to the euphoria
as Riddle set a brutal pace, slamming into his prostate with no mercy.
 
Harry felt like his brain was going to melt. Like he was checking in his brain
at a hotel, only to leave it at the dingy room before going out.
 
This feels so good, that traitorous voice whispered into his mind, and Harry
agreed, seizing on the thought as Riddle abuse his prostate.
 
Harry latched onto the pleasure, sinking further into the abyss. Riddle’s
fingers trailed up his thigh to wrap around Harry’s leaking cock, and Harry
moaned deeply.
 
Ecstasy. Euphoria. Pleasure. Pain.
 
Harry could hardly distinguish any of it. He was lost.
 
“Does it feel good, Harry?” Riddle murmured, his voice strained as he fucked
into Harry, his hips pushing in at a steady and unforgiving pace.
 
Harry wondered why he had even fought this in the first place.
 
“Yesss,” Harry hissed, his eyes fluttering shut when Riddle’s fingers danced
along his cock but did not more than palm him, his fingers teasing lightly
along the skin with his nails.
 
Harry wanted Riddle to sink his nails inside, to fist him and jerk his prick
until he was drowning in the comforting buzz of completion.
 
Desperately, Harry shifted his hips to take the boy more readily inside. To
feel the delicious burn of his prick twisting his insides each and every time
they hit the sensitive bundle inside. He moaned and whined, his spine arching
as much as his restraints allowed.
 
“Do you want more, Harry? Do you want your Lordto consume you? To deliver to
you this intoxicating bliss each and every single time I allow?” Harry nodded
his head desperately, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
 
But then Riddle slowed, and Harry whined, the sound pitiful.
 
“Say it.” Riddle ordered, his voice husky as he moved so slowly inside him that
Harry almost weeped.
 
Harry knew he shouldn’t. But why fight it when this felt so right? When each
time Riddle’s cock brushed against his prostate his nerves caught fire?
 
“Please  touch me more, fuck me more, my Lord . I want you to— ah.”
 
Riddle snapped his hips forward and he renewed his brutal pace, his fist on
Harry’s cock now twisting and jerking the soft flesh until Harry was near
tears.
 
Harry opened his mouth, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to speak, his tongue
lolled from his parted lips and his eyes rolled to the back of his head when
Riddle did not stop abusing his prostate, when his fingers were squeezing his
prick so tightly that it hurt.  
 
Yesss.
 
Drowning, that was what Harry felt like. He was choking and nearing his fourth
orgasm and he didn’t feel an ounce of shame when it finally struck.
 
Riddle’s moan pleased moan fueling his own as Riddle jerked desperately inside
him, spilling his seed inside before pulling out to splatter the rest across
Harry’s stomach. Harry watched as his own juices splattered over his own
stomach, Riddle’s had soaked entirely with his own seed.
 
It was several moments before their labored breathing regulated. The haze of
post orgasmic bliss dissolving into humiliation, horror, and realization when
Harry finally recovered from that rather intense orgasm.
Harry watched the boy suddenly stand, and Harry lost it.
 
I just got fucked by Tom Marvolo Riddle, and liked it….
 
I just fucked a student completely lost to the thrall of a potion explosion...
 
Harry didn’t know what to do. He thought immediately of obliviating Riddle and
himself shortly after, but he immediately discarded the thought, recalling that
Riddle had removed his wand from his person.
 
Harry was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Riddle getting back to his
feet, his clothes righted, as if the boy hadn’t just completely debauched him,
and a pleased smirk twisting his face.
 
Riddle looked like a fallen angel.
 
“Thank you, Professor.That was quite a treat. I do look forward to our
next...evening.”
 
Riddle smiled and Harry blanched in disbelief.
 
A treat? Next evening? Harry could hardly believe his ears.
 
“You need to go to the Hospital wing. There can’t be a repeat of this. There is
no next evening,”Harry said as firmly as he could despite being completely
naked, covered in both his own and Riddle’s cum, and tied down to the dirty
floor.
 
“Oh, Professor. I don’t think you quite understand,” Riddle whispered.
 
Harry’s blood ran cold at the sinister tone in the boy’s voice.
 
“You belong to me,” Riddle continued walking closer to Harry’s trembling form
with a dangerous gleam in his dark eyes.
 
I need to get him to Madam Pomfrey somehow.
 
“No matter where you go, no matter where you will think to hide, I will always
find you. Your scent will always lead me right to you.”
 
What the fuck was in that bloody potion?
 
“And if you try to escape, I can assure you that things will not be
very...pleasant for you. You slept with your student, and I am surethat if I
were to say something on the matter, the Wizengamot will not be pleased.”
 
Harry was speechless.
 
“Now then, let’s get you cleaned up. I am sure your colleagues are wondering
just where you are.”
 
Harry had never felt this fucked in his life. Both literally and figuratively.
 
He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and guessing from the pleased
smirk on Riddle’s face, he knew it too.
 
Well then, Harry would just have to think of something. The boy wouldn’t be in
Hogwarts forever.

***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Please mind the additional tags that have been added.
     Here I tie up the loose ends from the first. Leave kudos or comments.
     This is still an open ending, make with this what you like. The story
     is OFFICIALLY over lol.
" Professor ."

 Harry flinched, shuffling through his papers as quickly as he could when he
recognized the voice that had broken through the stampede of students rushing
out of class. He knew it was fruitless to ignore the boy, to pretend that
Riddle had not spoken at all as the room quickly emptied. But toss it, Harry
was not going to make this easy.

 Riddle had, thankfully, fucked off for several weeks since...the incident. A
perk that Harry had all but seized after he had given Madam Pomfrey a sample of
the potion Riddle had created. The woman was able to mend the mistake he had
made, but Harry could not shake the fact that perhaps it hadn't been the potion
at all. He did not feel any different since taking the potion the mediwitch had
so generously provided.

 But Harry had thought nothing of it then, attributing the lack of side-effects
as simply good luck. He had more than enough of that, even if that unfortunate
Friday afternoon made him wonder if it had finally run out…
So the days passed without issue. None of his students had suddenly felt
compelled to sexually assault him down the halls.
And Riddle, for all his threats that unfortunate afternoon, had done absolutely
nothing. There were no strange things being mailed to his office, and no
intense staring by the boy in question.
Everything was at peace.
And yet, something just didn’t sit right about the whole thing.
This was not even touching on the fact that Harry, try as he might, could not
forget that horrid afternoon when Riddle sexually assaulted him in the middle
of his classroom. He just couldn’t get the boy’s words out of his head, and
then there was the issue of recalling, with disgusting alacrity, the things the
boy had done with his hands.
Harry shuddered despite himself, his eyes boring into the papers between his
hands.
It certainly didn’t help that every time the boy so much as looked in his
direction, Harry would flush and squirm uncomfortably at his desk. Or, worse
yet, whenever the boy stepped too close when Harry passed to review his potion,
Harry would just bolt like a startled doe. It was humiliating how his feet just
moved without his say, his body taking a hesitant step back to avoid all chance
of touching him.
Harry knew that it was silly. He  knew  for a fact that Riddle had not been
himself.
He shouldn’t have been treating the boy the way he had, but his mind refused to
let him forget Riddle’s touch or the boy’s threats.
At the time, Harry had practically shoved the boy over to Madam Pomfrey to deal
with. He had seen for himself the precise second Riddle had been fed that
disgusting remedy, having had to take that very same concoction himself.
It had seemed like Riddle had gathered himself, his flushed cheeks and dilated
eyes replaced with bafflement. It certainly didn’t look like Riddle had been
acting.
Riddle had looked as if he couldn’t recognize where he was and had even  asked
Harry how he had even gotten there at all, seemingly unable to recall just how
and when he had gotten all the way to the Hospital Wing with a rather
disheveled Harry.
Harry remembered just how relieved he’d felt in that instant. It should have
been enough for him to move on—to forget about the stupid things Riddle had
said while drunk on the potion and return to how things were  before  the
incident. But he couldn’t. Even when Harry was sure that Riddle had not, in
fact, done it on purpose.
It was frustrating just how delicate the issue of Riddle was, but at least,
whatever it was that Harry had seen, was only a one time thing, and had
definitely not been the boy’s true character. It was  all  the potion, but...
the doubts still remained. The questions and the theories begging that perhaps
he was being too optimistic about the whole thing, making him see shadows where
there weren’t any.
There was still that whisper of doubt in the back of his mind urging him that
Riddle was not who he seemed. A voice that sounded annoyingly like Dumbledore
telling him that Riddle was evil incarnate. But Harry could not simply blame
the boy for what a  potion  had led to. Even if it seemed like he did, even if
he could not  forget  what had happened.
Harry had been drenched, and, if Riddle’s violent response was anything to go
by, it had to have driven the boy mad.
Though silencing those doubts was a completely different matter. Just as he
could not control his own subconscious reactions to the boy, he could not
silence that doubt.
Riddle may not have acted or done anything strange since, but Harry swore he
could see strange emotions flicker in the boy’s eyes. It was unidentifiable,
but it was a flicker of just  something  that had Harry’s nerves fluttering
with unease.
But it couldn't be. When the whole event had exploded in such a terrible
fashion, Harry’s own panicked movements enough to knock the boy out when he had
been untied, Riddle was most assuredly out cold. And then, after begging for
Madam Pomfrey to fix him and to do something about Riddle, the boy had woken up
as if nothing happened.
Harry had seen it with his own eyes, had seen the confusion flicker in the
boy’s gaze. It was  real . There was no reason for Harry to believe that Riddle
was going to hurt him or blackmail him into a sexual relationship, yet—

 " Professor ," Riddle crooned.
Harry’s body locked, gooseflesh breaking out along the nape of his neck.
The sound was unmistakable.
It was a pitch that Harry heard over and over in his head. It was the same
sultry, breathy sound that haunted him in his dreams, that promised both
completion and pain. It was a tone that hearkened back to the moment Riddle had
pushed into him and ripped out far too many pleasured screams from his lips.
And Harry did not know how to react in that second. His stomach twisted, and
Harry wanted nothing more than to storm out of the classroom. It was like a
spark of electricity shooting up his neck.
But there was something rooting him place, a voice that sounded oddly like his
own whispering in the back of his mind. But it couldn’t be. It urged Harry to
stay, to see what it was that Riddle wanted to say. It challenged him, dared
him to flee like some scared kitten.
It was both alarming and infuriating.

 Harry’s throat tightened, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, as he
considered his options. Riddle had not done  anything  to set him on edge yet,
he was simply standing behind him with a question. It was the boy’s typical
routine, there was  nothing  to be afraid of.
But the way he said it…
Harry shoved his panic aside, forcing himself to remain calm and entirely
composed. This was only a question, nothing more. Sure, Riddle may have sounded
like he had all those weeks ago, but the boy had not said anything remotely
threatening.
He is just standing behind you as you sort through your things. That is
perfectly harmless...  Harry reasoned, and just as he was about to turn around
to consider him, Harry was stopped, his mouth parting in surprise when a warm
hand pressed up against his shoulder.

 It was a light, soft touch of fingers. So gentle, in fact, that Harry might
not have felt it at all had it not glided down to the center of his back, and
shot adrenaline straight to his gut.

 "M-mr. Riddle, class is over. It's a Friday."

 It was a pitiful sound, one that Harry was tempted to kick himself for making.
He was a  professor , for bloody sake.
Harry took in a deep breath. He tried to turn around to face the object of his
unrest, but the warm hand pressed against his back prevented from moving. It
became more firm, more unyielding at Harry’s resistance.
Harry scowled when he tried to push back harder, but Riddle only responded by
pushing harder. As if any sign of resistance would be met with even more force.
Harry swallowed audibly, his nerves shot when Riddle’s other hand came up to
caress the back of his neck, Harry’s panic bursting to life when Riddle’s skin
met his. It reminded him of that bloody afternoon where those same hands
pressed into his skin, of those very same fingers pressing inside, of the
memory of Riddle’s cock teasing along his arse and pushing—

 "Tell me something, Harry..." Harry was startled from his musings by the sound
of Riddle’s curious tone, his voice so light and airy that, if Harry had not
been assaulted by this very same young man weeks before, he might have mistaken
it as innocent. "...Did you really think that I had forgotten?"

 No.
With adrenaline shooting through his veins, Harry twisted around, his hand
slipping into his pocket to seize his wand tightly between his fingers, and
point it at the boy. 
His breath was coming fast, but Harry did not waver, his stance was tight as a
spring.
Standing less than a meter away, Riddle towered over his average height.
It was totally unfair. Both aggravating and irritating that someone so young
could be so bloody imposing. Riddle was only  seventeen , and yet, even with
such a youthful face he was a force to be reckoned with. His student was no
ordinary boy, not when he looked more and more demonic with each passing
second.
Riddle was not a professor, and as talented as he was, he  certainly  wasn’t as
proficient as Harry was when it came to magic. Though admittedly, Harry had
never seen the boy duel, but that hardly mattered. Harry was older, and had
actually lived through battle.
Riddle had none of his experience. All he had was presence and raw talent. But
what did talent matter if you had yet to test it out in a real world setting?
Sure, Riddle had surprised him weeks prior when the whole potion fiasco
occurred, but that was only because he had caught Harry entirely off guard.
Harry refused to be intimidated by a bloody teenager.
However, don’t let it be said that he’d underestimate him. He’d already made
that mistake when Riddle had caught him by surprise before. Harry would not do
it again, especially if Riddle was planning to do something now.  If  he
planned to do something. Though, for all of Harry’s tenacity, it didn’t stop
the sliver of unease from traveling straight from the balls of his feet to the
back of his head.
Riddle had a strange look to him, and Harry did not like it in the least,
reminding him too much of how beasts looked at their prey—of cat-like eyes
narrowing before opening their mouths to sink their fangs into the throats of
their quarry.
He was like a fly caught in a spider’s web and he hated it.
Harry tightened his grip on his wand when Riddle’s lips quirked into a smile,
the burning in the boy’s eyes making him look more demonic than human in that
second.
"What are you saying?" Harry hedged, cursing internally from the hesitation in
his voice, his discomfort so obvious that there was little doubt that Riddle
had noticed. Harry was practically advertising it with his tensed shoulders and
his wide, panicked eyes.

 But he was nervous. He couldn’t help it any more than startled deer could help
flinching away from the sound of a twig snapping on the ground.

 Harry was thoroughly spooked. There was no denying this fact. He would have to
be bloody stupid to not be. Riddle was a threat.
But what kind?  Harry thought, watching the way Tom tilted his head to one side
to consider him.
Harry did not dwell long on that thought, tensing his fingers when he saw
Riddle’s lip twitch. It didn’t matter what kind of threat Riddle was.
Especially when Riddle looked as if he were up to something completely
nefarious.
Harry exhaled sharply when Riddle’s lips broke out into a grin, his teeth
gleaming white beneath the lit sconces of the room. Tom was like a shark, like
a predator with its jagged teeth and wide mouth preparing to tear into a
person’s arm.
This did little to assuage his worried thoughts, his heart beating so quickly
in his chest that Harry wondered if it might just fail him.
Harry tried to tell himself that Riddle was just a  student  but that reasoning
did nothing to calm his nerves. Student or no, Riddle could still do some
damage— and had done some damage —Harry amended viciously.
Harry watched the way the shadows danced along the boy’s aristocratic features:
his sharp jaw and nose, somehow looking lethal beneath the darkness.
Like a demon prince… Harry thought grimly, taking in the boy’s meticulous
appearance before catching Riddle’s gaze.
 The boy’s eyes were glowing brightly in the dimly lit room, the black
glittering like precious gemstones beneath the sun. The sight made something in
Harry’s stomach clench, and he quickly turned his gaze away, focusing instead
on the skin right between the boy’s brows.
The darkness lurking in that gaze was too much for even Harry to handle. It
brought forth one too many memories of that afternoon to be permitted, so Harry
decided right then and there that he was not going to go there.
Harry had had more than enough of that darkness to last him a lifetime.

 Sure, it was admittedly a little cowardly to turn one’s gaze away. It was a
sure fire way of showing someone that you had lost the battle for dominance;
Harry knew all this. But Harry just couldn’t do it. His instincts were shouting
too loudly in his head for him to ignore this.
He’d already made that mistake once before, possibly even twice considering how
easily he had eaten the boy’s ploy of confusion weeks prior. But no more. Harry
refused to be fooled again.

 "Harry, the potion was never real. I remember  everything ," Riddle breathed
the words out, stepping closer despite the wand pointed right at his chest.

 Harry had suspected Riddle had been playing him, but to have the suspicion
confirmed so suddenly threw Harry for the loop. His mouth parted in shock,
disbelief making his cheeks flush.
Harry’s surprise and disbelief vanished then, the emotions giving way to
bitter, and unfiltered rage.

 "You son of a—" Harry spat, but was promptly cut off by the boy suddenly
laughing, his dulcet voice ringing around the empty room like church bells.

 Harry's skin crawled.

 " Do  finish that sentence. Give me the reason I need to lay you over that
filthy desk and make you scream."

 Harry’s mouth parted, but no sound came out. Words were lost on him, stolen
from his lips when Riddle stepped closer still and pressed his hand against his
wand, pale fingers caressing its tip.

 "Go on then, Harry. If you dare," Riddle challenged, the steel in the boy’s
voice snapping Harry right out of his shocked stupor, his emerald eyes
narrowing into thin slits in anger.
He shoved the panic as far to the back of his head as was permitted, and
squared his shoulders to sneer at the smiling boy.
“ Unless you’re scared ,” Riddle whispered then, and Harry clenched his jaw in
irritation. Riddle looked both amused and smug as he said the words, the stupid
twist of his lips enough to make righteous indignation swell like writhing
snakes within Harry’s chest.
It was stupid to let himself be goaded in that way, but Harry just could not
stand how self-satisfied the boy looked.
Fuck him , Harry thought with a snarl, ready to snap the boy’s head off. Harry
cast aside the voice niggling in the back of his head that he should be more
careful, that he should be afraid, drawn in by the comfort of his anger.
Harry was  not  a bloody coward. He was a Gryffindor, not some timid first year
in Ravenclaw Riddle could bully. Harry was a  professor  and he refused to come
off as some timid rat.
Harry could wipe his arse with the boy’s threat.

 With a disgusted twist of his lips, Harry narrowed his eye and spat the word.


 " Bitch —"

 " Expelliarmus. "
And then Harry's wand was ripped from his hand, his eyes widening into saucers
when Riddle's toothy smile broke into a dangerous grin.
Riddle’s eyes were glittering with malicious glee, and Harry gathered himself
then to ram his fist into the brat’s face.
Riddle twisted away from Harry’s fist, dodging it just in time, before he
grasped tightly onto his wrist, squeezing it so ferociously between his fingers
that Harry could not stifle his cry of pain. His leg kicked out in response,
his breaths coming fast as Riddle grabbed onto his other leg, and pulled.
Harry lost his balance, his eyes widening when Riddle used Harry’s momentum to
shove him against his desk, his lower back digging painfully into the
unforgiving wood.
“At a loss for words?” Riddle mused, and Harry spat at the boy’s face, flinging
his hand out to wipe the stupid grin on the boy’s face.
Harry hit soft flesh, the burst of pain against his knuckles delicious when
Riddle’s grip slackened momentarily and the boy released a pained hiss.
Harry tried to pry himself from within the boy’s grip, but Riddle recovered
quickly, his other hand reaching out to backhand Harry.
Harry tasted blood, shocked that the boy had managed to land a hit at all.
Harry had hit him with everything he had, he had not expected Riddle to deliver
something like  that  in return. At least, not so quickly after his blow.
“You should not have done that, Professor,” Riddle hissed before he wrenched
Harry’s arm up and back, flipping Harry around on the desk. Papers and quills
clattered to the ground, ink wells and knick knacks Harry kept from his old
years in Hogwarts dropping to the floor when Harry’s free hand shot out to find
his balance.
Harry groaned when his stomach slammed against the wood, his free hand smacking
uselessly on the desk when Riddle continued to push his arm further up. It felt
like the boy was going to break it, like the bone was going to tear away from
muscle the more he pushed.
Harry whimpered from the pain, clawing at the desk as if to ground himself.
“S-stop, you’re going to rip my bloody arm out!” Harry cried when it felt like
a knife was cutting away at skin, the sharp pain shooting up his spine the more
the boy pushed, and he felt his elbow settle low on his back..
“Perhaps that is my intention. Is that not the appropriate response to being
hit?” Riddle said, his thighs pressing against the back of Harry’s legs. The
warmth seared Harry to the bone, the small point of contact enough to remind
him of the time Riddle had fucked him on the dirty floor.
Harry flushed in both humiliation and fear, his forehead breaking out into a
cold sweat when Riddle finally stopped twisting his arm, but made no move to
let up on the tight grip he had on the limb.
“...Although, I suppose there are other means to make you submit. I am sure you
are familiar with those methods…” Riddle’s voice lost the iciness then, one
hand grasping onto Harry’s flailing arm to force it against his back.
“...No, you can’t do this. T-this isn’t right,” Harry gasped when there was a
whisper, the words too low for Harry to hear, and something coarse twisted
around Harry’s wrists and Riddle finally relaxed his hold on Harry’s arm.
Before Harry could think of fighting off Riddle’s body, Riddle grasped onto
Harry’s bound wrists and forced them out above Harry’s head. There was another
whisper, the boy’s soft voice the only thing Harry could make out, before he
was no longer able to move them.
Harry tried to twist away, to kick back, but Riddle simply pressed his knee
between legs, the friction enough to draw a surprised grunt from Harry’s mouth.
“A-anyone could walk in at any moment. P-please just stop,” Harry hated that he
was begging but he had no other choice when Riddle had, once again, pinned him
down without any way to move.
“Does the thought of being seen upset you so much, Professor? I do recall how
hard you were when I looked at you,” Tom murmured from above him, and Harry
flushed. His mouth opened and closed in indignation, the denial heavy on his
tongue, but Riddle chose that instance to move rub his knee against his clothed
cock and the words escaped him.
Harry groaned, the memory of the last moment flashing in the back of his mind.
The pleasure had been immense, the pain and the heat enough to sweep him away
as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his life.
Riddle knew what he was doing. Where the boy had learned this skill, Harry
didn’t know, but that line of thought was lost when Riddle pressed something
hard against his lower back, and his clothes dissipated like smoke.
Harry squirmed, his arms breaking out into gooseflesh at the cold air pressing
against his skin. He was exposed once again, and the thought of it was enough
to make Harry’s heart beat furiously.
This was just as the last time except it seemed that Riddle was up to something
.There was something heavy hanging in the air, Harry could practically taste it
in the back of his tongue, but what it was, Harry did not know.
His curiosity burned, and Harry opened his mouth once more to ask, to know just
what it was that Riddle planned this time aside from the obvious, if the
grinding of the boy’s knee against his cock was anything to go by.
The last time, Riddle could not take his hands off him. Overwhelming him with
pleasure, but not, Riddle seemed to taking his time, the hard object (mostly
likely his wand, Harry thought) was pulled away from his back.
“What are you planning?” Harry asked, and inhaled sharply when one warm hand
smoothed along the back of his knee, his nails scraping against the skin.
Harry’s thigh twitched before he tried to move away, but Riddle pressed closer
stopping his efforts entirely.
Harry could feel the scratchy fabric of the boy’s secondhand trousers, and he
gasped when the handle traveled higher up the back of his thigh until it was
cupping one of his cheeks.
“Punishment,” the boy said simply, and Harry yelped when the hand smacked his
arse. It stung, the pain traveling all the way up to his spine as he tried to
make sense of it.
Harry could not believe it. Riddle was spanking him like some errant child. As
if  he  were in the wrong for what the boy was doing.
What the hell?
“A-are you bloody spanking me?” Harry rushed out, and groaned when Riddle
smacked his arse cheek against, his palm slapping into the same spot it had hit
Harry earlier.
“Did you just swear at me again, Professor? That is hardly appropriate. You
are  working in a public institution meant for learning.” Riddle tsked, and
Harry bristled, grinding against the boy’s hip when Riddle slapped at his skin
again.
And again. And again.
Harry yowled, the boy’s palm beating into the same spot over and over again
despite how furiously Harry struggled beneath the boy’s body.
Harry’s right arse cheek felt like it was on fire, and with each smack, the
sharp pain grew steadily worse and worse. He was going to have bruises if the
boy just kept slapping away at him.
“Stop!” Harry cried out, but the boy ignored him entirely and slapped even
harder in in response. Harry could hear the smacks echoing in the room, and his
face flushed a bright red each time he jerked and Riddle’s knee pressed more
firmly against his cock from behind.
He was growing stiff, and Harry wanted to die of embarrassment.
“Apologize.”
Harry grit his teeth in irritation, unable to repress another cry when Riddle
began to spank him in earnest. His hits came quickly, beating into the same
bloody cheek as if the boy had been personally insulted by that one cheek.
Harry would rather chew glass than apologize. He’d bear through this.
“Sod off- ah! ”
Harry hissed when Riddle suddenly dug his nails into his arse cheek, scratching
from the top of the swell of his arse down to the middle of his thigh. The
scratch burned immensely, and Harry screamed when Riddle slapped the back of
his thigh, the pain somehow even worse than being beaten against the sensitive
swell of his bum over and over.
“I don’t mind keeping you bent over this desk. I can only imagine the looks of
surprise on the faces of your students if they were to walk in right now and
see you as you are, hard and dripping all over my knee with your arse a bright
red.”
Harry moaned when Riddle rubbed against his cock, and the hand crept up to the
inside of his thighs. Harry arched his back at the sensation, the ticklish
sensation enough to make him press his arse more closely into Riddle’s crotch
from the delicious jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine.
His ears felt as hot as the skin of his arse, his embarrassment and humiliation
too much because the boy was  right.  He was so hard that it hurt.
“You like the punishment, don’t you?” Riddle crooned, and Harry’s legs shook
when Riddle began to earnestly rub against his crotch and pinched at the
sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It hurt, the ache enough to make him
struggle, but the boy continued toying with his flesh expertly. There was no
hesitation, no sign of naivete in that touch.
“The pain...the risk that someone could walk in and see you playing with the
Headboy of all people. It  fascinates  you.” Riddle leaned down to the back of
his head to whisper the words, the feeling of those warm lips and the memories
of what that mouth had done enough to make his cock twitch in interest.
Harry cursed himself for his reactions, unable to stop himself from whimpering
when Riddle took his ear into his mouth and licked inside. The sensation was
ticklish, and Harry cried out when Riddle released the skin he’d been pinching
between his fingers and slapped at his other cheek.
It stung, but the pain hardly registered when Riddle was gyrating against him
and the boy was teasing his ear.
Harry’s mind was lost, and he knew that despite his embarrassment, that he was
not unaffected. His cock was hard, aching between his legs with the teasing
press of Riddle’s knee against his own. It was maddening, the friction between
them.
He could feel the telltale pressure in the pit of his belly--the same one that
he had felt right before falling head first into orgasm.
Harry didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to acknowledge that his body was
careening out of control--that he wanted  release  even when his mind screamed
at him to resist.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
“Y-you did this to me,” Harry murmured, his voice hoarse and weak when Riddle
slapped his arse once more. The feeling of that palm against his naked skin
made him lean back into Riddle’s knee to chase the ecstasy there. “Y-you forced
yourself on me and look at what you’ve done. This isn’t- ah! ”
Harry whined when Riddle abruptly stopped moving, the smacks and the
tantalizing friction of his knee against his cock gone.
Harry didn’t know whether he wanted to cry from relief or from frustration. He
was aching, but there was no way he would voice such a thing.
“I forced myself on you? Perhaps. But you cannot deny that you did not  want
me. I merely sped up the natural progression of things,” Riddle hissed, and
Harry’s vision swam when the boy stepped away and twisted him around.
Harry was shoved over the table, his hips hanging in the air before Riddle
stepped between them and forced his right leg up to his shoulder.
It was a position that looked too similar to the one Riddle had put him in all
those weeks before. It took Harry several seconds to notice the boy’s face,
caught up in the memory of Riddle’s skin pressed against his own and the
feeling of his cock ramming into his prostate over and over again.
When Harry finally gathered himself and looked at the boy sitting between his
legs, he gaped. Riddle was flushed, his forehead wet with sweat from beating
into his arse repeatedly for the past few minutes, it seemed. His lips were
pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes glittering with displeasure despite the
way his eyes traveled from between his parted thighs, and up to drink him in.
Harry felt the stare like a physical touch, and squirmed against his bindings
when his cock twitched in interest underneath the boy’s gaze before those eyes
settled on his ruddy face.
It was a blessing that the pain had stopped, but this new position, Harry knew,
would be no better. It couldn’t be, not with the memory of what had happened
the last time. Especially when Riddle was looking at him as if he were
something to eat and punish.
“You were dancing around me, Professor. Nothing would ever have come of your
attraction if I did not act now.”
Harry furrowed his brow at the boy, unsure. Surely his attraction had not been
that obvious. He knew that Riddle was handsome, more than most. He could
recognize that his stare had lingered too long on the boy, there was no helping
that fact.
But that he would actually  act  on it? That Harry would actually attempt to
date his own student? The notion was entirely absurd.
The fact that Riddle had to go through such lengths was example enough that the
boy was not mature enough for a relationship at all. It hardly mattered that
Harry in fact had found him attractive and had admired the way he handled his
peers. None of those good qualities could overcome the fact that Riddle had not
only tricked him, but had... fucked  him in the middle of his classroom, and
then had blackmailed him.
“Are you out of your bloody mind? Y-you think that doing something like this is
going to endear me to you? Even if I had been attracted to you, which I most
certainly was  not , you betrayed my trust. I can’t possibly love you,” Harry
sputtered, and eyes narrowing into angry slits when Riddle’s face blanked.
It was as if the boy had wiped all remnants of humanity from his flesh.
“I do not need your  love ,” Riddle murmured, his tone arctic as he spoke.
Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end at that, eyes widening
in surprise at the surprising bitterness in the boy’s voice.
“All I need is your  submission.  And that, I can easily acquire.”
Harry gasped, back arching up unwittingly, when Riddle suddenly grabbed onto
his hard cock, and stroked him between his fingers. His fingers were like
velvet against his skin, the warmth seeping deep into the pit of his stomach.
“With just a twist of my fingers I can make you  sing . I can enslave your mind
without the need of something as pithy as love,” Riddle said, his tone husky as
he stroked him slowly. His thumb teased along the slit of his cock, and Harry
whined from the sensation.
Heat licked at his skin, and Harry hardly registered when Riddle whispered
something underneath his breath and one of his hands was set free.
“For instance,” Riddle began and Harry slapped his hand against the table when
the boy’s hand squeezed the base of his cock tightly, and stopped moving. His
frustration swelled beneath his chest and before Harry could think to tell
Riddle to stop, the boy whispered something he’d never thought he’d hear leave
the Headboy’s mouth
“ Imperio.”
Harry was drowning, the pleasant haze overtaking him completely like the warmth
of his mother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. It was thick and heavy, his
mind swept away by the rich tenor murmuring within the inside of his mind. The
sensation was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before, the pleasure
at the hands of the boy entirely unlike this sensation.
“ Take yourself in your hand ,” a voice crooned inside his head, and Harry
obeyed. He reached out with his free hand and wrapped around his cock when the
boy above him had let him go.
“ Stroke yourself, slowly.”  Riddle’s voice was dancing along his senses, and
Harry closed his eyes when he started to stroke and rub at the head of his
cock. He could feel Riddle’s eyes on him, the memory of that black gaze
consuming him like the thick cloud drowning his senses in bliss.
“ Yes, just like that. Shift further back and place your feet on the desk. I
want to see all you.”
Harry did not let go of his cock as he shifted further on the desk, the wood
warm against his sore arse as he spread his legs open and placed his bare feet
on the edges of the table.
The position was uncomfortable, but that stretch hardly mattered when the voice
was coaxing him to keep going. When Riddle’s voice praised him and told him
just how beautiful he looked with his hard cock leaking with his pre-cum and
his arsehole exposed to the boy’s gaze.
“ I am going to release your other arm. Lightly touch your nipples, Harry. I
want to see them harden while you look at me.”
Harry felt the weight of Riddle’s magic dissipate from his wrists, and he shot
a hooded gaze into the hungry black of the boy’s gaze. Harry could see his
desire, and heat traveled up his spine when Riddle bit his bottom lip at the
sight of him.
Harry felt wanted, the haze clouding his senses all-consuming as he stroked
himself slowly, from the base and up to to his head, thumb teasing his cockhole
in a similar manner as Riddle had earlier. He arched his back when he pressed
his fingers to his neck, his own hand cold from lying helplessly above his head
earlier and trailing it down to his collarbone.
“Yess, good boy ,” the voice crooned, and Harry preened at the praise. His
stomach fluttered pleasantly before lowered his hand further, his fingers
teasing at his skin until he squeezed his right nipple between his thumb and
forefinger. The pressure shot a spark of pleasure up his spine, and Harry
arched his back, unable to help it when Riddle was looking deeply into his eyes
and watching him.
Riddle’s eyes were black pools that threatened to drown him, more than the
pleasant heat percolating in his brain, and more than the tingle of pleasure
each time he squeezed his nipple and caressed the tip into hardness.
Harry moaned when he caught sight of Riddle delving into his robes and parting
the fabric to delve into his trousers. Harry knew what the boy intended, the
heat in his mind not so potent to deprive him entirely of his ability to note
the way Riddle’s zipper broke the heavy silence of the room to slip inside.
Harry stared intently at flushed color of the boy’s cheeks as he pulled out his
cock from his trousers, the swollen head beading with pre-cum.
“ Twist your nipple harder, Harry. I want to see you writhe in both pleasure
and pain as you watch me stroke myself to the sight of you.”
Harry could not fight the command, he squeezed his nipple tightly between his
fingers, the pain making him cry out when his nail dug into the skin and Riddle
began to touch himself.
Harry heard the way Riddle’s breaths broke, his groans spurring Harry’s own
pleasured sounds.
Harry's navel tightened, the familiar pressure of orgasm pulsing with the rapid
beating of his heart. He was close, and Harry could not help but arch his back
higher up, offering his cock and arsehole up to Riddle’s gaze the closer and
closer he got.
The voice whispered into his mind, the promise of pleasure addicting. Harry did
not think to fight it when it just felt so good to listen, when Riddle’s voice
told him just how much of a good boy he was and how good he looked with his
thighs quivering with pleasure.
Harry lapped it all up, and he hardly noticed when Riddle stopped stroking
himself, caught in the building pressure at his navel. He was close to orgasm,
and just the thought of falling was a wicked thought in the back of his mind.
Harry wanted to cum, more than anything—to cum to Riddle’s stroking his own
cock, to Harry’s fingers yanking and twisting harshly at his nipple, and to his
hand palming his cock without stop.
“ Yess, Harry. You will cum, but I need you to do something for me,”  the voice
crooned into his ear, and Harry shook his head eagerly. He’d do anything to get
off, anything to feel the bliss take him completely and please the boy that
watched him with hooded eyes.
Riddle’s hair was in disarray, and his lips were red and wet. His pleasure
called out to Harry’s own, like a siren to the sea. He’d do  anything .
“P-please I’ll do anything for you,”  Master.  The word hung heavily on Harry’s
tongue, but it refused to leave his lips.
“ Put your fingers in your mouth, and suck them. Get them nice and wet for me,
Professor.”
Harry released his nipple instantly and opened his mouth, all while watching
his student. His stuck his index finger inside his mouth, his tongue swirling
around the digit as he watched Riddle, noting how the boy’s jaw ticked as if he
were trying to restrain himself.
Harry’s cheeks hollowed as he pushed his finger further inside, gagging when he
hit the back of his throat. But still, Harry persisted. The voice in the back
of his head encouraged him to keep going, to keep sucking and wetting his
finger like the good boy he was. And he did just that, his eyes fluttering
closed for a moment when he felt a finger tease along the back of his thigh.
“ Another finger in your mouth, pet. You’re doing so well, I’m most pleased.”
Harry moaned into his fingers, and pushed a second one inside without
hesitation. His mouth felt stuffed, but Riddle’s order was law. He wanted to
please Riddle more than ever. He was his pet, and Riddle was his master.
The haze told him so, and Harry could not deny it. Not when a finger slid
further down his thigh and teased along the rim of his arsehole. The sensation
drove him wild, and Harry wanted more than anything for that finger to delve
further inside and hit that delicious bundle of nerves sitting in that flesh.
“ One more finger, and I want you to prepare yourself for me. Show me how
desperate you are for your master.”
Harry whimpered, and shoved a third finger into his mouth. He gagged as he
thrust it in and out, sucking and licking at his digits underneath Riddle’s
gaze. He felt like he was on fire, like his skin might melt from his bones at
any second if he kept going.
But he couldn’t stop now. His cock was hard and wet with his juices, and his
master’s fingers were teasing his hole. His master wanted him to prepare
himself well, to get himself ready for the cock jutting proudly from between
his legs.
And Harry would.
It was several minutes of sucking and licking before Harry was ready. He
watched his master’s face as if in approval, and sighed when Riddle merely
nodded. It was the permission he needed.
Harry parted his legs wider, before sliding his wet fingers past his thighs and
touching his hole. It twitched beneath his fingers, and he groaned when he
forced one inside without hesitation, his knuckle bumping against his cheeks as
he twisted them to fit more comfortably.
It burned slightly, but Harry twisted his finger inside all while staring into
Riddle’s face, unable to stop himself from moaning when his master’s hand
touched along his hole where his finger was pushed in as far as it could go in
his position.
“ Exquisite ,” his master purred and Harry shoved another finger inside. This
stretch burned more than the last, but Harry did not stop. He scissored his
fingers inside himself, biting his lip to stifle his pained sounds. It hurt a
lot more than Harry had expected, but still, the saliva helped him push
smoothly inside.
He twisted his fingers, and Harry nearly came when he bumped into his prostate,
his grip on his cock pausing from the shock of pleasure that crawled up his
spine.
“ Brush against it again. I want to see you fuck yourself on your fingers,
Professor.”
Harry whimpered, and rammed his fingers into it again, his eyes rolling to the
back of his head when he dragged his fingers out of his arse, and forced them
back in repeatedly until the burn completely disappeared.
Harry closed his eyes before shoving a third finger in, the stretch more
painful than the last, but the promise of pleasure under his master’s touch was
more than enough to keep him going. The haze whispered promises of delight and
ecstasy, and Harry wanted it all.
He wanted to be ruined completely. The thought of his master’s cock replacing
his fingers was more than enough encouragement to keep him fucking himself with
just his spit for lube. The haze whispered promises in his head, and Harry
could not ignore the sultry tenor as it described the sound of his master’s
cock forcing its way in, of the feeling of that thick shaft stretching his
walls only for him.
Harry licked his lips, and whined when Riddle abruptly grabbed his hand and
removed his fingers from his arse.
“Squeeze your cock as tightly as you can and do not let go until I have given
you permission.”
Harry squeezed on reflex, and groaned from the pain. It was tight around the
base, and Harry opened his eyes to shoot his master a pleading look.
He wanted to cum, he knew holding on like this was only mean to delay his own
satisfaction.
“Please,” Harry begged, and Riddle smirked. His eyes glittered with delight,
and Harry could only watch as Riddle whispered something underneath his breath
before pressing his wet cock against his arsehole.
Harry squirmed with anticipation.
“ Scream for me .”
Riddle jerked his hips, and Harry screamed, the pleasant haze he had fallen
into disappearing entirely at the feeling of the boy’s cock burying itself
inside. It felt like he’d been split in half, the agony shooting painful sparks
along his spine despite how well he had prepared himself.
“T-take it out,” Harry cried out, eyes wet with unshed tears when Riddle
continued to force himself inside until he was buried completely inside,  his
thick girth stretching him beyond what three fingers could.
And then the reality of what was happening crashed into Harry’s mind, the haze
of the Imperious curse notably gone. His mind was once more his own, and Harry
felt shock and humiliation swell within his chest.
Harry recalled the things he said and the things he did just moments before.
And almost immediately retracted his hand from his own cock as if burned, his
digits wet with his essence.
Oh god, what has he made me do?
Harry winced when Riddle moved inside him, the pain shooting another jolt of
agony down his spine. The sensation tore him away from the horror of the
situation, and Harry shot Riddle a desperate look when the boy merely smiled at
him sweetly.
It was a deceptive and cherubic look. One that had no business being on
Riddle’s face at all.
Merlin, I had even been calling him master in my head…
Harry cried out when Riddle suddenly grabbed his cock in his hand, and Harry
gripped onto the boy’s wrists immediately. He tried to pry the boy’s hand off,
but when Riddle squeezed it to the point of agony, Harry ceased.
His arse felt full and his cock felt like it would be crushed if Riddle
squeezed the delicate flesh any further.
“I didn’t put the words in your head, Harry.”
Riddle said, seemingly out of the blue. Harry shot him a glower, disbelief and
anger twisting his insides into knots at the pleased look on the boy’s face.
“Your mind is stronger than most. And yet you sank into the Imperious curse
readily. You practically leaped into the warmth and seized it between your
hands.”
Harry gasped when Riddle pulled back, his cock rubbing against the walls of his
arse. It burned less than it did the first time he’d forced his way inside, but
it was still not a comfortable sensation. It was a relief to feel the fullness
dissipate, but Harry knew that this was only a temporary reprieve.
His thoughts were drawn back to the last instance where Riddle had slipped
inside, and Harry shuddered, unable to erase the memory of his cock slamming
into his prostate until he could no longer recognize himself.
“It was beautiful to watch you fall, to sink into the abyss knowing the
consequences of such a thing. You could have fought it, Harry. But you  didn’t
.”
Harry cried out when Riddle thrust back in, his cock brushing against his
prostate. His shaft rubbed along his walls, the burn melting into delicious
friction that made his navel clench and his cock twitch from within Riddle’s
hand.
“It was almost as sweet as your cries when I took you for the first time—to
hear you beg for me to give you release. I wonder what I can make you do now,
Harry. I wonder what depraved desires you hold inside that you want me to
exploit…”
Harry flushed, mouth opening and closing in shock as he tried to deny it. The
Imperious curse was completely illegal and was disastrous to the mind. It was
addicting and it left the victim with little capacity for control.
Harry could not have fought it, could he? It was a difficult curse to toss
aside. The warmth had been maddening, like the embrace of  loved one.
But what of the desire in your belly? What of the heat licking across your
mind?  A traitorous voice whispered into his mind and Harry saw white when
Riddle pulled out and slammed back inside him, his cock ramming into his
prostate once again.
Oh Merlin.
Harry pressed his hand into his mouth when Riddle pulled back and rammed back
in, unable to do anything else when he began to move more quickly and beat into
his arse.
Harry could feel him to the base of his spine, could hear the soft gasps and
the deep breaths of the boy each time he thrust inside. The sound echoed in his
ears, and the pleasure overwhelmed him each time Riddle rolled his hips and hit
him  just so.
It was maddening, and Harry wanted to sob when Riddle began to stroke him
furiously. The wet sound of his skin pulling back, of his wet head being teased
by a dextrous finger enough to push him closer to the orgasm he’d been denied
earlier while under the haze.
Harry didn’t want to look at Riddle, but his eyes were caught up by the way
Riddle bit his lip and how his eyes flashed each time Harry cried out. He was
not unaffected, he was as consumed by pleasure as Harry himself was.
And then Riddle grabbed onto his leg and yanked his hips closer to thrust more
deeply inside. Harry screamed, unable to stop his pleased moans when Riddle
fucked into him with more ferocity than he had the first time.
There was nothing gentle about his movements, Harry could hear the loud smacks
of skin slapping against skin. It reminded him of when Riddle had spanked him
with his hand, and Harry felt shame dig itself out of his chest when his cock
swelled at the memory of his palm hitting his skin.
Harry was pathetic.
“Don’t you see, Harry? You may not love me, but you crave  this ,” Riddle
groaned out the words, before leaning over Harry and slipping his arm around
his waist.
Harry didn’t fight it, unable to resist when Riddle pushed and jerked him like
he were some fine tuned instrument.
And then Riddle lifted him up, Riddle’s cock buried deeply inside and his hand
playing with his cock before twirling Harry in his arms until Riddle was
sitting on the desk, and Harry was sitting on his lap.
Riddle’s face was centimeters from his own. His lips were close enough that
Harry could taste the boy’s breath, the tea and biscuit he had eaten for lunch
wafting pleasantly against Harry’s nose.
“Fuck yourself on my cock, Professor. No one will know except for me. It can be
our little secret between you and I,” Riddle murmured against his lips and
Harry bit his lip.
It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. His student had tricked him not
once, but twice before. He had...forced him to come to terms with the fact that
he himself may have been attracted to his student before the entire fiasco had
commenced. And now, again, the very same student had backed him into a corner,
through the use of an Unforgivable curse.
Riddle had to be bloody insane if he thought that Harry would agree to this.
There was no way that he would.
“...Unless you would prefer that I share this information with someone else. I
would prefer you do things of your own volition. It will grow dull having
to...encourage your participation each time I would like to take you.”
Harry grit his teeth before shooting Riddle an angry look, already knowing for
a fact that he was stuck. Riddle’s cock was already buried in his arse, and the
boy’s hand was clasped around his prick.
Riddle had already shown his true colors. He was not above blackmailing Harry.
He had to play his game until he managed to get himself out of this.
Riddle smirked up at him then, and Harry glowered at him before lifting his
hips and plunging himself on Riddle’s cock.
Harry groaned, electricity running along his nerve endings when Riddle thrust
up to meet his own thrusts, his cock bumping into his prostate directly.
Riddle’s hand began to move once again, his palm stroking him in time with his
thrusts.
And then Riddle pressed his lips against Harry’s mouth, a warm tongue licking
at the seam of his mouth. Harry gasped when Riddle thrust up as he undulated
his hips down, and he felt Riddle’s tongue delve inside.
He tasted like biscuits, and Harry drank in the taste. Uncaring of the fact in
that precise second that he’d been blackmailed. Not when he was ready to cum.
“Good boy, Harry. That’s it, move your hips and take me entirely,” Riddle said
after pulling away from Harry’s lips for a second, his dark eyes boring into
Harry’s clouded emerald gaze.
The abyss beckoned and Harry let himself be swept away. He kissed Riddle
fiercely, sucking in Riddle’s tongue into his mouth as he bobbed his hips to
take Riddle’s prick deeper inside, slamming his prostate each time.
Harry’s chin was wet with his saliva, but it hardly mattered to him then.
Riddle pressed Harry closer with his strong grip on his waist, and Harry
wrapped his arms around Riddle’s neck to bring him closer.
Riddle’s tongue teased along his gums, the roof of his mouth, and played with
his tongue, and Harry moaned into the kiss. Lost to the heat and the glittering
in the boy’s eyes as he himself fell into the haze of ecstasy.
Riddle’s lashes were long and black, fluttering each time Harry clenched his
arse against his cock and plunged deeper inside.
Harry may have lost this battle, but he would not be the only one to lose. He
would take Riddle down with him. He would drown Riddle in bliss just as easily
as he was consumed by the twist of desire churning in his belly.
Harry bit softly on Riddle’s tongue, and the Riddle’s eyes flashed predatorily.
The heat in his gaze shooting both fear and desire in Harry’s gut as Riddle’s
pace increased and Harry’s orgasm crept steadily closer.
Riddle ripped his lips away from Harry’s lips, and kissed his way down to his
neck. The heat lapped at the base of his spine, the pressure of Riddle’s hands
twisting and teasing his cock, and his cock beating into his arse a combination
that forced Harry to the edge.
He was treading it, the promise of pleasure so close that Harry whimpered,
unable to stifle the sounds when Riddle ripped sound after sound each time he
slammed into his prostate.
“Let yourself fall, let me inside—into your mind—into your heart,” Riddle
purred into his ear, his hot breath fanning across the sensitive skin making
him clench automatically around Riddle’s cock.
“I’m close, M-merlin- ah! ’ Harry cried out when Riddle’s lips dropped down to
his neck and sank his teeth into the delicate skin. He didn’t savage the
skin—it was no more than a soft pressure against his neck, but it was enough to
tip Harry over the edge.
Harry’s mouth parted into a silent scream, his eyes closing shut as the white
haze overtook him. Riddle’s teeth were digging harder and harder into his skin,
but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
“ Mine .”
Harry splattered his cum all over both his and Riddle’s stomach, the fabric of
the boy’s trousers reminding Harry then that the boy was still mostly dressed.
But that hardly mattered, not when Riddle kept thrusting inside and abusing his
prostate.
“O-oh, please no more.” The pleasure had become too painful, and Harry babbled
obscenely to get Riddle to stop, to get the boy to cum and relieve him from the
torture because he would  lose his bloody mind  if Riddle kept touching his
prick and ramming into his prostate.
And just as Harry was about to cry, to beat the boy off of him, Riddle thrust
three more times before Harry felt something warm shoot through his insides.
Harry panted, and watched the boy as his eyes shut, and mouth parted to release
a guttural moan. It was deep, enough to make the bones in Harry’s body rattle
with the sound.
It was a rich sound, one that Harry did not expect Riddle to be capable of. Not
after the near silence the last time Riddle had fucked him.
He watched the way Riddle’s black eyes appraised him, the way those lips parted
before spreading into a wide, mischievous grin. It made Harry nervous, but he
did not let it show. He couldn’t afford to show his reservations now that he
had fallen this far. He needed to play this game, temporarily, but he needed to
play nevertheless.
Harry would get out of this somehow.
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