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“Haa, uhn, aghh.”
Muffled moans tumbled out of Draco’s mouth, the sounds stifled by the crimson ball gag wedged firmly between his lips. His eyes fluttered shut in frustration, lashes damp with unshed tears, as his body quivered under the relentless rhythm of Harry’s gloved fingers. One thing about Harry, he always took his sweet, torturous time. He knew exactly what to do to wring out those broken, desperate cries from his lover, one after another, until Draco was reduced to a trembling, pleading mess.
The playroom was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire, every sound heightened by the stillness around them. Draco’s arms were bound behind him, the diamond-weave ropes tracing elegant patterns across his pale skin, making his chest bow forward. His legs were tied in an intricate frog-tie, thighs parted and splayed wide, completely exposed and vulnerable. A drum harness knot supported his hips, suspending him mid-air like a work of art—a masterpiece crafted by Harry’s expert hands.
He whimpered, his voice hitching as Harry’s fingers, sheathed in sleek, black leather, pressed in deep, brushing against that spot inside him again. Draco’s back arched, toes curling helplessly as he was once again dragged to the precipice of pleasure, only for Harry to pull out at the very last moment. The denial made his cock ache and throb, dripping pearly beads of precum that hung from the swollen, red tip before falling in slow, mocking drops to the floor below.
“Look at yourself, Draco,” Harry murmured, voice low and dark, rich with satisfaction. A smile played at the corner of his lips as he pulled his fingers out, leaving Draco’s hole clenching and trembling with loss. Draco keened, twisting his hips in a futile attempt to entice Harry to return, to give him just a little more. The sensation of the smooth leather leaving him empty was almost unbearable, an electric blend of pleasure and agony that made tears gather at the corners of his silver eyes.
Harry stepped closer, his breath hot against Draco’s ear as he hooked a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up. Draco’s gaze was forced toward the mirror covering the wall in front of him. The sight that greeted him made his stomach clench.
He was wrecked. His cheeks were flushed a deep, feverish red, sweat-slicked strands of platinum hair clinging to his forehead. Drool escaped the corners of his mouth, glistening against his chin, and his eyes— Merlin , his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with lust, tears shimmering at the edges. Every muscle in his body trembled with strain, a desperate, needy tension that sang through his veins.
And by his side, Harry stood tall, powerful, every inch the commanding presence he always was when they played. His leather trousers hugged his muscular thighs, the tight material highlighting every line, every dip and curve of his toned body. A harness strapped across his broad chest emphasised his defined pectorals, the gleam of polished silver buckles catching the light. His green eyes, usually so gentle, now blazed with a predatory hunger, drinking in the sight of Draco’s debauched reflection.
A low growl rumbled in Harry’s throat as he leaned closer, teeth grazing the shell of Draco’s ear. “You want to cum, don’t you?” he whispered, voice dripping with dark promise.
“Mmnhh! Hnnn! ” Draco’s answer was nothing more than a series of choked, breathless noises, his head nodding frantically, eyes wide and pleading. He needed it—needed to feel Harry’s fingers inside him, fucking into his tight heat, filling him, stretching him, claiming him. The emptiness was maddening, every pulse of his neglected cock sending shudders of frustrated desire through his overstimulated body.
Without warning, Harry’s fingers curled into his hair, tugging his head back sharply. The ball gag was unbuckled and tossed aside. Draco barely had a second to catch his breath before Harry’s zipper slid down, and his thick, half-hard cock was dangling tantalisingly before his lips.
“Suck,” Harry ordered softly, but the command in his tone was unmistakable.
Draco surged forward, wrapping his lips around the head, moaning at the taste of Harry’s skin. He bobbed his head eagerly, tongue swirling around the shaft, sucking with everything he had. He knew what Harry wanted—what he needed to prove. That he was a good boy, a worthy pet deserving of release. And if giving Harry the best blowjob of his life was what it took, then Draco would do it without hesitation.
“Mm , that’s it. Just like that,” Harry groaned, fingers threading through Draco’s hair, guiding his movements. Slowly, he began thrusting deeper, sliding between Draco’s lips until the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. Draco choked slightly, but he didn’t back off. He swallowed around Harry’s length, feeling his throat constrict as Harry set a steady, deliberate rhythm, his hips snapping forward with every thrust.
Tears spilled over Draco’s cheeks, mingling with the spit that dribbled down his chin. His jaw ached, stretched wide around Harry’s girth, but he didn’t stop, humming softly, trying to take Harry even deeper. When Harry’s cock twitched, thick veins pulsing as he thrust one last time to the hilt, Draco’s eyes fluttered shut, the taste of Harry’s release flooding his senses.
“Good boy,” Harry breathed, pulling out slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched Draco panting for breath, cum dripping from his lips. Without a word, he circled around, positioning himself between Draco’s spread legs again. And then, without warning, Harry’s fingers thrust back inside Draco’s slick entrance.
“AHHN! Harryyy !” Draco screamed, voice cracking as Harry set a brutal, punishing pace, leather-clad fingers hammering into his prostate with ruthless precision. After being edged for so long, his body was a raw, overstimulated mess, every nerve on fire. The force of his climax took him by surprise, crashing into him like a tidal wave. His cock jerked, and he came with a sob, white strings of cum spilling out of him, splattering the ground beneath in long, messy streaks. Harry continued to fuck him through it, his fingers never slowing.
Harry’s grin was smug as he withdrew, leather gloves glistening. He brought his hand up, watching with pride as Draco twitched and whimpered, hole still quivering from the force of his orgasm. “You’re perfect like this,” Harry murmured, voice thick with affection. He traced his thumb over Draco’s rim, dipping in teasingly before pulling back, admiring the contrast of color between his black gloves and his boyfriend’s pink, swollen hole.
Slowly, he untied the ropes, muscles flexing as he carefully lowered Draco from the suspension. The ropes left angry red marks on his wrists and ankles from how long he’d been bound, and Harry’s gaze softened as he took in his lover’s exhausted state.
“You did so well, Draco. I’ll run you a bath, get you all cleaned up,” he murmured, tenderly brushing a damp strand of hair from Draco’s forehead before scooping him into his arms. Draco sighed, his body sagging against Harry’s chest as he let himself be carried upstairs.
“Make me some tea; a strong brew,” he mumbled sleepily. “And rub my back too, you brute.”
Harry chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Draco’s temple. “Anything for you, love,” he whispered. Because no matter how commanding he was during their games, Harry knew he’d always be the one wrapped around Draco’s finger in the end.