Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12854094.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter/Ron_Weasley, Harry_Potter/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Ron_Weasley, Draco_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Universe, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Threesome_-_M/M/M,
      Voyeurism, slight_dubcon, Extreme_BDSM, Rimming, POV_Second_Person
  Stats:
      Published: 2005-11-16 Words: 2233
****** look away (the point of no return lies in his eyes) ******
by thunderylee
Summary
     You wish you could look away, but it’s too late. Torn between pride
     for your name and anticipation of your wildest dreams coming true,
     you hold your gaze and wait for instructions.
Notes
     reposted from agck.
It’s a force stronger than God, Merlin, or whomever you believe in that draws
you to him, to them. The voice of reason inside your head, which strangely
enough sounds like your father, tells you to look away, avert your gaze, turn
your head. Look anywhere but in his eyes, because therein lies the point of no
return. The point at which you will fall, give in, lose yourself to him, to
them.
You watch from a distance, for it is impossible to look him in the eye if he
doesn’t know you’re there. You watch his face at the different levels of
ecstasy, memorizing every muscle contraction as he nears his release. You
admire the way his hair clings to his sweaty forehead, hanging in his eyes, but
he does not push it out of the way because his Master hasn’t asked him to. In
fact, his Master will usually push it out of the way for him, because this
isn’t just about playing a game or getting off, this is about love.
They are in love; they have been for years. It takes a special kind of trust to
allow someone to do to him what his Master does, a trust that can only develop
over time. He knows his Master will not hurt him; his Master may be in charge,
but he’s the one with the control. Bound, branded, and bruised, he will still
call the shots.
Every session begins the same. Saturday nights at eleven o’clock in the forest
behind the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, they walk hand-in-hand to the tree
with their initials carved into the trunk, and his Master turns to face him.
“What would you like me to do to you tonight, my pet?” his Master asks, cupping
his face lovingly.
Each week is a different answer, as though he spends the other six days and
twenty-two hours researching every possible way his Master can give him
pleasure by domination. His answers are very detailed and descriptive,
sometimes lasting up to five full minutes. Upon completion and understanding,
his Master begins the session with a chaste kiss and an ‘I love you’.
You know all of this because you’re here, every week, watching. You don’t even
remember what brought you here in the first place, only that you kept coming
back at the same time every night in hopes that they would return. You caught
onto their pattern quickly and even scoped out different vantage points
throughout the forest, recently deciding on the large rock that you could lean
against and keep your balance whilst touching yourself.
Tonight is an anniversary of some sort which calls for a special performance,
and you settle in for the show. You haven’t wanked all week in anticipation of
tonight, and your goal is to prolong your orgasm until his Master gives him
his.
You hear your father’s voice again: Look away, look away! The power of tainted
love compels you! Your bittersweet obsession has taken you over, ensnared your
senses, eroded your brain! Look away, while you still can!
Fuck you, Father.
“What would you like me to do to you tonight, my pet?”
He smiles warmly and gazes deep into his Master’s eyes, as he always does.
“Tonight I would like you to allow me a slave, one whom I can dominate the way
you dominate me while still being yours. One on whom you can teach me the role
and let me indulge in my dominant fantasies while still being yours.”
His Master grins as though he already knows the answer to his question before
it is asked.
“Who did you have in mind for this slave, my pet?”
“None other than our loathed enemy for so many years; a wizard who we would
believe rather die than serve us, yet there he sits crouched behind that rock,
cock in hand, watching us as he’s done every week for the past six months.”
Slowly, two pairs of eyes turn towards you. You freeze, meeting his stare, your
cock fully erect in your hand, twitching at the sound of his voice.
Look away! The point of no return lies in his eyes!
You wish you could look away, but it’s too late. Torn between pride for your
name and anticipation of your wildest dreams coming true, you hold your gaze
and wait for instructions.
“Come here, Malfoy.”
His master stands behind him, looping his arms around his waist and nibbling
affectionately on his neck. “Call him ‘slave’,” he whispers, loud enough for
you to hear.
“Come here, slave.”
You are lost in his eyes, the green iris radiating with intensity as though
casting the Avada Kedavra curse. Your feet move without command; the figures of
childhood rivalry formerly known as Weasel and Potter appear larger as you step
closer, your cock visibly erect under your robes.
His face is set, but you can see the excitement in his eyes; the anticipation,
the longing, the undying love for his Master for granting him this fantasy. You
are compelled to assist him in fulfillment, even if that means sacrificing
yourself. It’s more than sacrifice, really, for you are also shunning your
pride and defying your name; however, in your eyes, in his eyes, it is worth
it.
Stopping within an arm’s reach of him, you stand straight. The voice inside
your head has faded to nothing, although the echo of look away remains. You see
not only his eyes but his Master’s, both staring at you in a way that makes you
feel like you’ve just been set on fire.
“Tell him what you want him to do to you, pet.” His Master’s voice croons into
his ear, the tone soothing, the way silk feels against bare skin. “He will do
anything you want.”
His face lights up, a devious smirk playing at his lips, and you silently
agree. Right now you would do anything just to touch him, feel him, make him
moan, make him come; feel his breath and heartbeat quicken, his hands on you,
his cock pulsating as he peaks. Right now your every happiness depends on his,
and you will do anything in your power to see to it.
“On your knees.” His voice is strong and confident, as though he’s been waiting
for this moment his entire life. “I want you to take my cock out and suck it.
Suck it good.”
Your knees hit the earth and you fumble with his trousers, anxiously awaiting
the feel of his skin against your fingers, your lips. The taste of his sex on
your tongue, his cock throbbing in your mouth; it’s too much, and you fumble.
Slowly lowering the zipper, teasing yourself as well as him, you lick your lips
and focus on the prominent bulge as you free it from its constraints.
The flesh springs free, hard and thick, and you immediately flick your tongue
out to lick the head. He groans; you feel him groan through a hand tentatively
placed on his hip, and you feel his desire as his hands thrust into your hair,
wanting more.
You lick again and press your tongue into the slit, eagerly lapping up the
precome that has formed. It tastes musky, bitter, tangy, but good. You feel his
knees about to give out from under him, but his Master firmly grasps his hips
to hold him upright. Discovering the placement of your hand, his Master smacks
it away and you jerk it back into your lap, folded over the other as though you
were about to be served tea.
There is to be no touching, that much is clear. However, you are most certainly
allowed usage of your mouth, and you take advantage of that. You slide the head
of his cock into your mouth and push it in and out with your tongue, creating
suction with your lips. He pushes your head down and you comply, taking him
into your mouth until you can feel him at the back of your throat.
He pulls your head up and down once more, and you are slightly ashamed that he
is doing all the work. Matching his rhythm, you imitate his motions and he
loosens his grip on your head, instead grabbing fistfuls of hair in fervor.
Proud, you tighten your lips around his cock and try to take him in deeper,
pushing the instinct of your gag reflex to the vortex at the back of your mind
where the voice was banished.
You raise your eyes in time to see his Master turning his head towards him for
an open-mouthed kiss, one where their tongues meet before their lips do. His
Master lifts a hand underneath his shirt, where he runs his fingers along the
smooth plane of chest from his neck down to your mouth. His fingertips brushing
against your upper lip send sparks throughout your body that end up at your
cock, and you wonder if you’re allowed to touch yourself.
His Master grinds against your Master’s backside, softly groaning into his
mouth and whispering something that sounds like ‘too many clothes’. Your Master
reaches for his wand and waves it without saying a word; you’ve always been
secretly impressed by his knowledge of non-verbal magic. You find yourself
completely starkers and for a moment wonder where your clothes went, until you
notice the striking contrast of clear skin intertwined with freckled in front
of you.
Their kiss is broken abruptly as his Master drops to your level behind him and
thus out of your sight. You feel the change of pace from him, however, and you
can tell that his Master is probing his entrance with his tongue. You figure
his Master’s cock is within reach and consider touching it, but you don’t.
You’re here to serve your master, not anybody else.
He is groaning, one hand thrust in your hair and the other on the head behind
him. He halts your ministrations and looks down at you through hooded lids,
panting for air. Letting his cock fall from your lips, you lean back on your
heels and meet his gaze.
Look away!
“I want to fuck you, slave.”
You nod and begin to turn around to bend over for him, but he stops you.
“No,” he says firmly. “Like this. I want to see your face as I fill you again
and again.”
He lays you down, your back against the earth, and covers your body from head
to toe. A bead of sweat falls from his forehead onto yours as your faces are
now inches away from each other, and he leans down for a kiss. It’s a fairly
chaste kiss considering the compromising position, but it’s still welcome
nonetheless. His lips touch yours briefly before he pulls away and leans back
on his knees, into the warm embrace of his Master.
His Master whispers instructions into his ear, and he complies. You feel a cold
substance being applied to your entrance, followed by probing fingers. It’s not
your first time, yet it feels like it, and when his fingertips graze your
prostate your body jerks and you let out a high-pitched moan.
“Relax,” he says, and you attempt to do so by keeping your eyes locked on his
as he replaces his fingers with his cock.
He slowly pushes in and your body opens up for him, as though your every being
depended on him being inside you now. You lift up with your arms to urge him
on, but he grabs both of your hands and places them behind your head. You don’t
struggle.
He squeezes his eyes closed and gasps as his Master enters him from behind,
wrapping those strong, freckled arms around his body once more and burying his
face into the back of his neck.
His Master establishes the rhythm, which leaves your Master free to bind your
hands and fuck your mind with his eyes whilst fucking your body with his cock.
You don’t dare look away, for you have long since passed the point of no
return.
You feel a hand on your cock; it must be his Master’s. It is a pleasant
surprise that you are allowed release, one which you are most certainly not
about to protest. Especially when your Master leans closer and whispers, “I
want to feel you come.”
You come immediately, fighting against the urge to tear your eyes away from his
and give in to the bright flash that overcomes your vision upon orgasm. His
Master continues stroking you until your cock falls limp against your chest
before quickening his pace. Your Master’s cock is forced deeper into your arse
as his Master does the same to him, and the beautiful harmony of rapturous
moans escaping from their mouths makes you want to come again.
You watch his face as he goes over the edge; he does not close his eyes.
Panting, breathless, his expression distorts in ecstasy as his Master sinks his
teeth into his shoulder and thrusts one final time. Your Master falls back
against his, his spent cock slipping out of you. You feel the emptiness, in
your body, in your mind.
“I love you,” he says, and you know it’s not directed to you.
“I love you, too,” his Master replies.
They share a loving kiss, and that is when you finally look away.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!