Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/777580.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Dresden_Files_-_Jim_Butcher
  Relationship:
      Harry_Dresden/Thomas_Raith
  Character:
      Harry_Dresden, Thomas_Raith, Bob_the_Skull
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Non_Consensual, Implied_Underage
  Series:
      Part 1 of Brotherly_Bonds
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-28 Words: 2796
****** We All Fall Down ******
by ficwriter103
Summary
     Post- Cold Days
     “I think Winter’s Mantle has a curse built into it that’s only lifted
     with sex.” Bob said.
     At 110 degrees, Harry's brain was going to fry and even if it didn't,
     haywire magic could potentially lash out and set himself on fire. I
     couldn't ignore this, not when I had a solution.
Notes
     TW: Rape, Dubcon, Implied child abuse, implied sexual abuse of a
     minor, rough sex
      
     I’m actually a bit worried that I’m going to get flamed for this but
     what the hell. This has been bugging me for ages and I needed to put
     it down somewhere. Basically, the entire premise of this is that
     Winter's Mantle has a built in extended fuck-or-die curse.
My brother is a stupid stubborn ass. I’ve always known it. It’s kinda hard to
miss when he started a war with the fucking Red Court. I had hoped that all the
running, the fighting, the experience would make him a little less stupid but
maybe one too many blows to the head had knocked all the common sense out of
his head.
 
Another example of how stupid and stubborn he can get?
 
I get a visit from Mouse, scratching down the door of my apartment and whining
like nobodies business. I figure something’s wrong and I head down to Harry’s
new place to look in on him.
 
Lo and behold, he’s strapped to the bed, delirious with fever and goodness
knows what.
 
He never really did apologize for the ‘monster’ thing, not straight out,
anyway. He invited me over for beers, to hang out and casually asked me to
teach him how to control himself. Can’t deny that I was hurt in the first place
but I know better than to hold my brother’s pig-headedness against him.
 
I figured that his ‘urges’ were under control since he hadn’t contacted me for
more ‘techniques’ in a while. I didn’t realize that they got so bad that he had
resorted to tying himself to the bed with magic sapping restraints. My brother
isn’t the smartest person on the earth.
 
So there I was, standing in the doorway, watching my little brother writhe
against the cuffs around his wrists and ankles while his pained screams were
muffled by the gag in his mouth.
 
“He said that if it got bad, we could get you to come.” Bob said. I stared over
at the skull, bright orange light motes rolled in the sockets and yet somehow
managed to look worried.
 
“It’s bad, really bad,” Bob said. “Whatever it is, it’s messing with his magic.
Yesterday, he couldn’t even light the candles and today, he nearly set
everything on fire.”
 
“What happened?” I demanded, throat dry. I despaired at my brother’s non-
existent wisdom sometimes.
 
“I think Winter’s Mantle has a curse built into it that’s only lifted with
sex.” Bob said. There was a beat of silence before I managed to process his
words.
 
“…what?” Okay, not my finest moments but excuse me while I figure out why the
hell Mab was interested in having her Winter Knights sex people up. I mulled it
over in my brain for a bit before deciding that it actually made sense. She
probably got a kick out of watching Harry slowly isolate himself from the rest
of his friends because he was worried about what he might do to them.
 
“Is it a one-time thing?” I vaguely heard my own voice ask. Bob did something
with his light motes that somehow still managed to look like a shrug despite
the fact that he had no shoulders.
 
“I can’t tell. You know how he is about casual sex. He doesn’t trust himself
around anyone right now. He thinks all he needs is better self-control.” Bob
was quiet, solemn even.
 
See, this is how you know Bob is serious. If doesn’t make crass jokes, he’s
serious. He wasn’t making crass jokes now, therefore he was serious. Serious
Bob, for a lack of better words, was Serious.
 
“How did he get into the cuffs anyway?” I asked, fascinated.
 
“It’s tied to his vitals. If he touches them when his vitals are going crazy,
they latch on and don’t let go till he’s calm again.”
 
It was a nifty piece of spell work that needed far more persistence and finesse
than my brother was used too but I guess that was the added benefit of being
the Winter Knight.
 
“You seem to be -” I hesitated “-handling it.”
 
“He has a fever of 110 degrees and his magic is all over the place.” Bob
interrupted before I could say anything else. I probably balked for all of
twenty seconds but it felt way longer than that. At 110 degrees, Harry's brain
was going to fry and even if it didn't, haywire magic could potentially lash
out and set himself on fire. I couldn't ignore this, not when I had a solution.
 
“Can it be me?” I asked, swallowing hard. The thought of sleeping with my
little brother had occurred to me several times before, specifically every time
Harry managed to pull of some spectacular display of power, hard-headedness and
sheer dumb luck. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy looking at the lanky
six foot nine moose of a man he was. Would this be taking advantage of my
little brother?
 
“You can’t be serious.”
 
“I am.” I said softly. So I was. I could see blood seeping from where Harry
strained against his bonds. The cloth in his mouth had been stained dark brown.
I was betting that it would get worse, so much worse, if he didn’t do anything
about it.
 
Now he had me.
 
I was the best choice, really. I was used to sex in all its forms. Rough sex,
vanilla sex, gay sex, straight sex, you name it I’ve probably done it. And it
wasn’t as if I had never had sex with a family member. I’m a White Court
Vampire. We teach by practical methods. Meaning, well, a lot of things happened
between me and my family that most people would balk at.
 
“We have no choice, do we?” I asked Bob. Bob was silent for a moment.
 
“There are potions.” He offered quietly.
 
I knew the ones he talked about. They were used to ‘castrate’ people back in
the Renaissance. It ‘worked’ mainly by ‘removing’ an emotion, which in most
cases was lust. The problem was, it usually removed a lot more than just the
lust, usually taking away passion, happiness, all forms of desire and a lot of
empathy, leaving the person a ball of rage, hate and anger afterwards. Or
sometimes just leaving a zombie.
 
Of course, there were refined versions of that potion. But that involved the
massacre of several virgins, several deadly and illegal poisons as well as the
freshly boiled skin and skull of a child.
 
None of us would even want to try and gesture in the general direction of that
with a pole that spanned half the world.
 
Bob took my silence as answer enough.
 
“He needs submission.” Bob told me cautiously. I swallowed. Power play was a
lot of what went on in the Raith mansion. I could do this.
 
“Will do.” I said as I walked over to the bed. I laid a hand on Harry’s head.
He was sweating even though the only thing he had on was boxers. He calmed a
little, eyes unfocused as they stared at something beyond me.
 
“Mmfgh.” He said.
 
I cautiously pulled the cloth gag out of his mouth, blood and saliva dribbled
out.
 
“Get out, Thomas.” He rasped wearily.
 
“Shhh, shh.” I said softly, stroking his hair. He calmed a little more. The
restraints loosened ever so slightly. Bob murmured something behind me that I
only I could hear.
 
“Get out.” Harry repeated, he looked as if he had a brief moment of lucidity. I
shook my head as I whispered the words to deactivate the spell. The restraints
fell away immediately. The slight narrowing of his eyes was the only warning I
got before I was pinned to the bed.
 
My first instinct was to fight back but I overrode that by reminding myself
this was Harry. This was Harry, sort of, and he needed me to submit. I could
submit. I learned it from my family when I was very young. Go with it were the
first words I recalled in that instance. I struggled a little and opened my
eyes a little wider.
 
His pupils were completely dilated, that much was obvious in the dim light. He
had a glazed look in his eyes as he growled my name.
 
“Fight me, Thomas.” He practically begged. I shook my head, put on my best
‘weak’ voice.
 
“I don’t want to hurt you, Harry.” I added a little bit of whimper to it. I
won’t deny that my heart was thudding in my chest. I had fantasized about
having sex with my brother because as a White Court vampire, family isn’t a
boundary. But when I had thought about it, I imagined a sweet coupling unlike
the ones I was subjected to. I thought about taking him through it slowly, with
all the time in the world, on a four post California king bed and plenty of
lube on hand. White Court or not, I didn’t like pain and from the look of it,
Harry was going to want to cause it.
 
His hands ripped at my shirt, everywhere he touched left little goosebumps. He
was burning up but his fingers left little bloody frost prints on my skin. I
shouted in alarm when his hands dove into my pants and tore them off along with
my boxers.
 
“Fight me!” He snarled, drops of blood hitting my face. I shook my head,
closing my eyes and baring my neck for him in the classic gesture of
submission.
 
He couldn’t resist. His hands tightened on my hips as he bit down on my neck. 
I choked, hands coming up to push at his shoulders. He grabbed my wrists and
pinned them above my head with one bloody hand. With a few deft movements, the
restraints that had held him now held me.
 
Harry was a growling, snarling animal, using his teeth and mouth to mark me
wherever possible. I did my best to be quiet, keeping the whimpering and the
dry sobs to a minimum.
 
“Look at me.” He growled as he pushed my knees apart and hoisted my ankles over
his shoulders. I braced myself for pain only to feel a warmly wet finger probe
at my ass. Harry was visibly trying to restrain himself. He had the look that I
got when I was absolutely Ravenous but I didn’t want to kill or hurt anyone.
 
“Don’t wanna hurt you.” He panted.
 
The few times my other brothers had taken me like this, they had not been
gentle. I wouldn’t call what Harry did very thorough, but he showed me more
consideration than the most of my family had. He did it at a pace that must
have been agonizing for him, slowly working me open with one, two then three
fingers and what was probably his own blood.
 
When he finally thought to use his own cock to fuck me, I was prepped enough
that I didn’t tear, even though it still hurt.
 
It had been awhile since the last time. The stretch, the burn was no more
pleasant than it had been. My hiss of pain was swallowed when Harry leaned
forward to kiss me. He kissed like he fought, clumsy and full of brute strength
without any finesse. I let him take the lead and concentrated more on being as
meek as possible rather than the sensation of being penetrated roughly.
 
Harry’s hand found my cock, tugging at lightly. I gasped into his mouth, having
not expected that in the least. I instinctively squirmed away from him but he
held on resolutely.
 
I don’t get off on pain but his hand was distracting enough that it made the
pain almost bearable.
 
“Mine.” Harry growled into my ear. He left scratches down my chest and sucked
another hickey onto another collarbone. He slowed a moment, pausing inside me
to adjust my position.
 
“S’rry,” He said with a grimace. “So sorry, Thomas.” He made as if to pull out.
I hooked my ankles together behind his neck and pulled him closer.
 
“Just finish it, Harry. It’s okay.” I coaxed him. Blown pupils, flushed face,
uneven breathing and a stuttering heartbeat, it was all the signs of being
‘Ravenous’, yet he was still trying to deny himself. Self-starvation is a
horrible thing to go through, I should know because I’ve tried it.
 
“Yours, Harry.” I pleaded. He snarled in frustration and started to move at an
agonizingly slow pace.
 
“Tell me how to make it good.” He said, hoarse. I shifted my position again and
canted my hips upwards so that he’d have a higher chance of
 
-oh- I moaned, eyes closing automatically. There it was.
 
“Just keep moving.” I ground out. His hand went to work on my dick and he
continued thrusting. This time, the pleasure definitely outweighed the pain.
 
Harry kept up a litany of apologies as he picked up the pace. I shut him up by
kissing him.
 
“It’s okay, Harry. It’s okay.” I breathed out, letting my head fall back onto
the mattress. I could, on some base level, enjoy the physical side of this. To
be honest, I was a little amazed at Harry’s staying power. He must have been
denying himself for ages now. Knowing him, he doesn’t even wank in his free
time. Holding on without giving into that sexual frustration is kinda like a
person who hasn’t eaten in days sitting in front of a five course meal and
simply staring at it wistfully.
 
It was only when Harry had me arching off the bed, squeezing my legs around his
neck, crying out his name and cumming in his hand that he deigned to give into
his own release. He came with a pained whimper, face hidden in my neck as his
body went taut above me.
 
We stayed like that for a moment then he sprung into action. His pupils were
still dilated and his face was still flushed. He looked totally exhausted and I
legitimately couldn’t tell if it was better than the glazed pained look he had
before.
 
“M’so sorry, Thomas.” He said as he pulled out in a hurry and gently laid my
legs down on the bed. He rubbed the circulation back into them with nimble
fingers and then scrambled to get a washcloth. I sat up gingerly, wincing as
muscles tinged in protest.
 
Pain factor: 3 out of 10. Overall rating: Way better than the Raith Family
Special. The thoughts occurred to me abstractly as Harry returned and knelt
between my legs.
 
He hesitated.
 
I scooted up lean against the headboard, then spread them willingly.
 
“M’sorry, I’m so sorry.” Harry said guiltily as he wiped me down. Every swipe
of the cloth lifted more blood stains from my skin and put more guilt on
Harry’s face.
 
“Where are you hurt?” He asked anxiously. I gently grabbed his elbows and
forced him to look at his own wrists. The skin had been abraded away by the
restraints and they were still oozing blood. The stains on me were actually all
from him when he ran his hands over my body or grabbed me.
 
“That’s not my blood, Harry.” I said as slowly as I could so that it would sink
in.
 
He blinked owlishly at his bloody flesh, not seeming to understand that he was
hurt too, maybe even more than I was. I was willing to bet that all the blood
smeared on the sheets came from his wrists and ankles as he moved about.
 
“It’s okay, Harry.” I told him. Harry gave me a look that said that he didn’t
believe me.
 
“Thomas, I just -” He swallowed visibly before continuing “- raped you.”
 
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it.
 
“Can’t rape the willing.” I said. It hadn’t been ideal but I had volunteered. I
had willing chosen to do this for him. His slack jawed look of shock was notan
improvement.
 
“I hurt you!” He said incredulously. I was suddenly glad that his new place was
also a basement apartment of sorts because I got the notion that he might try
to fling himself out the window as some misguided attempt to make things up to
me.
 
“I’ve had worse.” I said uncomfortably. It was the blatant, unfortunate truth.
Harry shut up but the guilt filled look of self-loathing remained firmly in
place.
 
“I should have had better self-control. I should have practiced more - ”
 
I slapped my hand over his mouth.
 
“Remember how I told you about my Hunger?” I asked him. He nodded mutely. That
incident where I had cruelly knocked the bottle out of his hand would probably
stay with him forever.
 
“This isn’t that much different,” I told him. “Only now I’m the bottle and you
drank from me.”
 
Harry closed his eyes and to my alarm, tears started rolling down his cheeks.
 
“Thank you, m’sorry, thank you.” He pulled me close and hugged me, alternating
between phrases over and over again. I put my arms around him and held on
tight.
 
“It’s okay, we’ll be okay.” I whispered.
 
 
 
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