Longing (Hatred Bleeds)
Longing (Hatred Bleeds)
A soft moan escaped Draco's mouth. Morning light crept inside the room
through the window curtains, shining light across the boys bare skin.
He bit down on the soft flesh of his lip, his hand brushing up against
his stomach. Clasped in his other hand was a steel blade. He gripped it
tightly, not quite willing to put it to use just yet. Meanwhile his
free hand felt along his torso, savoring the feel of his own skin. His
cock throbbed slightly, aching to be touched. Draco slid his hand up to
his mouth. He sucked on his fingers, coating them in saliva. He let out
another moan as he brought his hand down to his cock. He tugged on it,
played with it teasingly before wrapping his palm around his cock.
"Gods...Potter." He whispered.
Fantasizing about Potter had become a bit of a nasty habit of his these
days. It had began of course, with the dreams. It had become a regular
occurance to have dreams about his enemy. The dreams started after the
end of Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts. Never had he expected he'd have
such intense sexual dreams about "the boy who lived." They always
started with him and Potter meeting in an empty classroom or some other
such place.
He would look at him and the familiar feeling of hatred would stir up
in his stomach. Potter was foul, the lowest form of wizard as far as
Draco was concerned...well except for maybe Weasley.A fight would
pursue, leaving them both covered in bruises and blood. He has had many
dreams of beating Potter to a pulp but never had the fighting actually
led to something so vile. It would lead to....a kiss? It still confused
him to think about. He would devour Potters lips, making him cry out
with pain as Draco bit down hard on his lip. Harry bled from the wound,
the taste of Potters blood excited him. He craved more. These dreams
frightened him. It wasn't like him to dream of kissing Potter. It
wasn't like him at all to be dreaming of fucking the boy senseless.
Worst of all it wasn't like him to be...turned on by these dreams.
Draco pushed these thoughts away. Instead choosing to concentrate on
the object of his current obsession. He pictured Harry as he remembered
him. Potter was lean, his body toned from countless Quiditch practice.
His hair was always sexily tussled. His eyes were what Draco liked most
about the boy. They were a deep clear green. He hated how much he loved
those eyes. He hated Potter, every single thing about him. Hated how
badly he wanted him.
Draco's eyes squeezed shut as he stroked his cock, concentrating on
images of Potter. His sleek body was now coated in a thin sheet of
sweat. His golden hair was sticking to his forehead.
Draco gripped the knife is his hand harder. He brought it up to his
chest. Cautiously he grazed the blade over his skin. Not yet making his
mark. He shivered at the feel of the cool blade on his skin. He licked
his bottom lip, feeling how close he was. He took the blade and pushed
harder, neatly slicing across his chest. He felt the sting as the blood
mixed with sweat and he moaned louder than before. He took the blade to
his mouth, licking across its length. Taking in the taste of his own
blood.
He made more cuts along his stomach, tears beginning to well in his
eyes. He hated Potter...hated him with everything inside him. Draco
made a long cut along his arm, opening his eyes to watch as the blood
slowly trickled down himself.
Draco arched his back as he felt his orgasm erupt from him.
Potter deserved nothing but pain for making him feel like this. He
hated Potter...he hated how much he wanted him. He hated that no matter
what he could never have him. Not even for a moment.
Draco's breathing slowed. He lied there covered in his own sweat, cum,
and blood for a long moment. A tear gently rolled down his face and he
wiped it away furiously. He hated him, everything about him.
~end~
