The Boy and The Knife - One Shot

[lacer-corcordis.livejournal.com]

Title: The Boy and The Knife
Author: lacer_corcordis
Pairing: H/D
Length: One Shot, 3,022 words
Completed: Yes
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Blood-Play, Language,
Summary: Draco's been a bad boy, and he's to be punished, by The Boy and his Knife.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, JKR does, and I doubt she'd ever have her characters doing something like this...
Notes: This is my first sex scene I've written, and it's based off my favorite sexual aspect, blood play. I understand, it's not everyone's cup of tea. You don't like blood play, then don't read it. I, personally, find it kinky.

Also, if you are going to attempt blood play, don't be stupid. Don't just slash away at your partner, make sure you're both aware of what you're doing, sure you want to do it, and are prepared to face the results.



Draco Malfoy stared up from his place on the bed, watching the movements of the Boy above him. He watched as he withdrew something smooth, and forest green from the pocket of a pair of pants that had been discarded only moments before. Draco sucked in his breath as suddenly the smoothness changed, and suddenly, emerging from the end of the even green plastic was a blade.

Not a blade like anything they’d ever used before. It did not have the slick, sharp angles their usual silver razor had. It was larger, ridged, and dull. It did not shine with the just-cleaned look their special razor had. No, this was something different. Something foreign. Draco would have been lying to say he wasn’t aching in frightened anticipation.

“That’s different,” was all he choked out from his place. The Boy over him glared down at him, all the love and compassion that had been in his eyes only moment ago, gone.

“I thought you said you’d be good, Draco,” he whispered cruelly. “I thought you said you’d be a good boy, if I gave you a special treat. Don’t you want the special treat I have for you, Draco love?” the Boy asked in a cold, heartless voice.

Draco nodded solemnly, knowing he’d pay for his slip in the sweetest way. Knowing he’d enjoy every second of his punishment.

Draco starred down at his body, stretched out, naked, and vulnerable. He wondered how exactly he’d gone from gently caressing the Boy now standing over him, to being tied to a bed in Gryffindor tower, more vulnerable than he could remember being since he was a child. Draco pushed the thoughts away. He didn’t really care.

It didn’t matter how he’d gotten into his position. All that mattered now was that he was there, in the soft darkness, just him, and the blade. Well, him, the blade, and the Boy.

The Boy slowly climbed onto the bed, in an almost careful, gentle manner. Draco silently laughed at the irony, at how tender the Boy was being now, and how different he would be soon. But perhaps not soon enough. Draco nearly lost himself and moaned when the Boy lowered himself to straddle Draco’s hips. He caught himself just in time; there was punishment, and then there was torture, and Draco wasn’t quite ready for torture today. Maybe next time.

Draco starred at the wall, anticipating the first cold cut to his skin. He waited for the cool feeling of a blade, followed by the harsh scraping and then warmth of his own blood pouring, but it didn’t come.

Draco looked up at the Boy sitting across his hips, and was startled to find he was staring back at him. Those eyes bore into his soul, those eyes like perfect emeralds that burned through him. He’d always loved those eyes.

But now was not the time to be mooning over the Boy’s eyes. Now was the time for pain and punishment and forgiveness. Draco silently asked the Boy, with his eyes, what he was waiting for.

The Boy chuckled under his breath. “Honestly, love. I can’t believe you’ve learned to speak with your eyes, in this short time. We’ve only known each other for six years, how can we communicate so well? No matter, there will be a time to speak of that, you can be sure. Now, however, is not that time.”

Without another word, the Boy drew the blade up close to Draco’s face. Draco watched his every moment, sick eagerness coursing through his veins, He knew it must be wrong to want this so badly, but really, what wasn’t wrong about this whole thing?

The Boy brought the blade up over Draco’s head, as if to cut the cords that bound Draco’s arms so firmly to the bed. Then, as if it was an after thought, he seemed to change his mind, and brought the blade back down towards Draco’s chest.

Tracing the tip of the blade gently over Draco’s chest in a smooth, straight line along his breastbone, not deep enough to cut, not even deep enough to scrape, it still gave Draco delicious goosebumps.

Arching gently into the touch, noiselessly begging for more, the Boy seemed to take the hint. He gave Draco a knowing smile, and nodded his acknowledgement. He knew how badly the Boy beneath him wanted to be punished. He knew the only real punishment for the Boy was waiting for the first cold cut, and the release it gave him.

Placing the tip of the dull blade just above Draco’s left nipple, the Boy gave a wink, before digging the blade into the pale Slytherin’s flesh.

Draco gasped, and arched into the blade. He felt his erection grow harder, and then shuddered as the blade was pulled diagonally up towards his collarbone. Tears of pure ecstasy filled Draco’s eyes, and he nearly cried out from the feeling.

Estimating, using only his tingling nerves as a marker, Draco guessed the cut was at least six inches long, but not as deep as he’d prefer. He waited for the next cut, hopefully deeper, longer, sending more jolts of painful pleasure coursing through his body.

He waited several moments, before looking back up at the Boy above him. The Boy’s eyes watched dazed, almost hungry as the blood spilled from the gash in Draco’s chest. He licked his lips in anticipation, loving the way the blood seemed to blend with the sweat on Draco’s chest, and seemed to fan out like it had a mind of its’ own, its’ own desired course.

Shaking himself out of his blood-induced stupor, the Boy brought his emerald eyes up to meet the silvery-blue ones beneath his. He saw the tears in those eyes, but knew they were not of pain. He knew they were of pure elation, and so, he wouldn’t need to be punished further.

The Boy brought the blade down again, but went back to the soft, not a cut, not a scrape, stroke he’d made before. Draco nearly groaned from frustration; nearly spoke to the Boy, begging him to continue. But he didn’t.

The soft, almost kind strokes of the blade had traveled lower and lower, until finally it was tracing in a circle around his navel. It traced lazy figure-eights, and intricate designs across his stomach, but it always returned to the gentle circling of his belly button.

That’s why Draco wasn’t prepared for this cut.

The Boy had taken him by surprise this time, place a sharp, short yet deep, cut across his stomach, horizontal, just inches above his navel. Draco gasped louder, sharper, and the Boy basked in the sound. He watched the balmy liquid gush from the cut, contrasting against the cool paleness of Draco’s abdomen.

The Boy had been planning on doing more to punish Draco, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the cool, crimson covering, spreading over Draco’s chest and abdomen. Snapping the blade shut, he tossed it into the pile on the floor, along with their long forgotten clothing.

Bending low over Draco’s body, the Boy breathed in the coppery, salty smell of Draco. He always loved this smell; this was always one of his favorite parts of Draco’s punishments. Taking one last deep inhale of the delectably wrong smell, the Boy went on to the next step.

Leaning even closer, the Boy allowed his tongue to dart out and gently lap at the long cut across Draco’s chest. This time, Draco really did moan, but the Boy didn’t care, for he had let out a moan at the same time, one that drowned out Draco’s sound of pleasure.

He laid long, lavish laps across the cut, wiping clean all the blood that had spilled from Draco’s chest. The Boy thought of the potion Draco took before each of his punishments; the potion that would stop his blood from clotting without a spell. Yes, it was a danger; should they miss a part in the spell casting later, or should something happen to interrupt their punishments, Draco would surely die. But really, what was punishment without a little danger?

The Boy brought back his head to watch the cut well up with blood again, and he grinned. He could do this forever, if it didn’t mean the certain death of the beautiful Slytherin beneath him. Shaking the thought of his lovely pet’s death from his mind; the Boy went back in for another taste.

As the Boy traced his tongue over the gash along his chest, the cut across Draco’s stomach continued to bleed. The blood spilled down his abdomen, filling his navel, and dripping down his hip bones. Draco felt the warmth of the blood flow over his abdomen and gush down. He didn’t worry, the Boy would take care of him; he always had.

As the Boy lapped his way across Draco’s chest for a third time, he whispered a soft spell along the way, making sure he got every inch of the gash. The bleeding slowed, and then stopped completely, and the Boy licked off the excess blood as if it was a savory treat.

He worked his way down his chest, licking off the blood that had slipped down, across Draco’s pectorals and nipple. Finally arriving at the nipple, the Boy sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue and nipping softly. Draco gasped out loud and stuttered out, “Oh...muh-my Guh-Gaw-God!”

The Boy quickly backhanded him across the face, glaring down. “Did I say you could speak?” the Boy demanded. Draco shook his head slightly, looking ashamed. The Boy looked at him wearily, before hissing out, “There, that’s better.”

He grinned up at Draco before moving lower, to his second, deeper, more sensual slash.

Seeing how much it had already bled, and recognizing the distant sort of fade in Draco’s eyes, the Boy spelled this cut on his first trail across it. There was enough blood covering Draco to still have plenty of fun.

As the flow of blood stopped, the Boy greedily lapped at Draco’s stomach, taking in the metallic taste of his blood, mixed with the salty, sweaty taste of his skin. The taste was almost magical, and the Boy seemed to glow with it, delighting in it.

Draco arched his hips up, inviting the Boy to go further in his ministrations to the bloody flesh. The Boy obliged, not caring that the blonde boy beneath him was openly begging by now, not caring that it was against his own rules to allow such begging. Right now, it didn’t matter.

The Boy hungrily took in all the blood spilled across the Slytherin’s abdomen, leaving only that which had spilled over his hips, and that which filled his navel. Winking up at Draco, the Boy bent down, and plunged his tongue into his navel.

Draco jerked his hips involuntarily, and was glad the Boy was too lost in the tastes and smells to punish him further. Any vague ideas of punishment were gone from both of their minds; now they only had thoughts of touching, tasting, feeling, smelling and just being.

Finishing off the Slytherin’s navel with a swirl of his tongue, the Boy lifted his head, smirked knowingly up at Draco, before sliding his tongue over a jutting hip bone, nearly sucking it right into his mouth.

Draco was just short of thrusting into the Boy’s mouth by now, just the feeling on his hip was bringing him close to climax. He longed for release, he longed to be untied and be wrapped in the strong arms of the Boy, his Boy.

No matter how much he longed for it, the Boy had other plans. The slipped Draco’s hip bone out of his mouth, and slid his tongue across to the other bone, sucking on that with as much attention as he’d given the first.

He slid his tongue down Draco’s thigh, lapping up the harsh taste, avoiding the place Draco wanted his mouth most. He ghosted his tongue over the tip of Draco’s erection, before moving on to the other thigh, taking in all the blood that was left, until Draco lay on the bed, tied and panting, and blood-free.

With a gentle word spoken, suddenly the ties at Draco’s wrists and ankles where gone, and he could move. And, with that new range of motion, he did the only thing he could think of. He threw himself at the Boy.

The Boy was knocked back, not realizing how prepared Draco had been. He quickly rolled them over, and he was on top again, restraining the Slytherin beneath him. Draco thrust his hips up at the Boy, quickly proving he wasn’t try to escape, but trying to climax.

The Boy chuckled under his breath, raised an eyebrow at Draco and said, “Shh, let me help,” before muttering another spell under his breath. Draco relaxed instantly, recognizing the spell the Boy had cast wandlessly, and openly welcomed the intruding finger prying at his entrance.

Hissing in pleasure as the finger slid inside of him, he pressed himself down against the finger, begging for more. The Boy added a second digit, and quickly a third; finger fucking Draco into a prepared state. When the Boy felt he was ready, he easily removed his fingers, and positioned Draco.

Draco hissed again, in a combination of pain, pleasure and bliss as the Boy entered him slowly. The Boy stilled, for he knew no matter how much he punished Draco, he would never, ever hurt him this way. After Draco adjusted and nodded to the Boy, he began working into the boy. He slid in, becoming fully sheathed, and brushing against that bundle of nerves deep inside Draco, making him cry out.

The Boy, upon receiving a silent permission, began pounding into the willing body beneath him, ensuring that every time he was grazing that beautiful spot inside Draco that made everything seem more vivid.

Draco was close to the edge, he had been all night, and this was just too much. He knew he wouldn’t last long, and the next thing he knew, he felt the familiar rippling through his stomach, felt his muscles tense, and he knew the Boy felt it as well. As Draco came, shrieking, into the Boy’s arm, he clenched his muscles down on the Boy’s throbbing erection. Watching his Slytherin all night, combined with the pressure on him now, the Boy was as close as Draco had been, and came as well, crying out Draco’s name into the lonely autumn night.

As the boys collapsed into each other’s arm, spent, a lazy grin slid onto Draco’s face.

Yawning, he said, “You know, if this is the punishment I get for calling you that, I might adopt it as your new name.” Draco grinned at the boy sprawled on top of him, knowing he’d be getting yelled at, but knowing it would all be in fun.

“You know I don’t mind you calling me that. It’s when you say it in public that I have to punish you,” the Boy said, stretching his arms and rolling off of Draco.

“Oh. Well, in that case, remind me to scream it across the Great Hall in the morning.”

“Next time I’m using the Sword of Gryffindor. Screw the pocketknife, we’re going heavy duty.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Draco said teasingly.

“Yeah, right. God, Draco you can be so annoying sometimes. You do realize how much it’s going to take to calm down the rumors this time. I mean really, I thought we didn’t want the whole world talking about us,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“Oh, I know I’m annoying but you love me for it all the same. And I’m sure the fact that as soon as I said it, the fact that you screamed ‘Draco!’ and then grabbed my arm, dragged me off to your dorm and had wild, kinky, bloody sex with me won’t alert anyone of our relationship,” Draco said sarcastically, joking, but knowing it would embarrass the Boy next to him.

“Ugh, yeah. I suppose that didn’t help much.”

“Yes, and the fact that you ran in here, dragging me, and told all your little Gryffindor friends they could sleep in the common room tonight didn’t help much either.”

“Well... I could always claim that I went to beat you up, but things will be suspicious when you don’t return to your dorm tonight, and don’t show up anywhere tomorrow either. Thank God it’s Friday...”

“Oh, and why won’t I be showing my beautiful face tomorrow?” Draco asked innocently.

“Because, if you thought I was done with your punishment, you are sadly mistaken, Draco, love.”

“Oooh, sounds fun. Can’t wait, really,” Draco said, completely honest.

“Oh, shut up. You make it sound like it isn’t a punishment, and then we’ll have no way to tell ourselves that it’s right while we’re doing it. Really, you need to keep up the act,” the Boy said, poking Draco’s ribs.

“Yes, yes, I get it. I have to pretend I hate it when you slice me open, and lick every drop of blood off of me, so slowly that I practically come just thinking about it. But yeah, I got it. I hate it. It’s horrible. Never, ever do it again,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“I hate you, I’m going to bed. Night, Drake,” the Boy said, rolling over.

“Night. Hey, could I call you it one more time before you fall asleep?” Draco asked playfully.

“No! That name has gotten you in trouble enough as it is, you will not be repeating it for a very, very long time, if you know what’s best for you.”

“Fine,” Draco huffed, “Good night then.”

When the Boy’s breathing evened out enough to tell Draco he was asleep, he leaned it close and whispered.

“Good night, The Boy Who Lived To Fuck Draco Malfoy Senseless,” Draco chuckled, knowing it wasn’t the most clever nickname, but it sure got a rise out of Harry.

“I heard that,” was the muffled reply.

Comments

[polaris-86.livejournal.com]

Really good story and the end was really funny. ^^ I liked it!

[lacer-corcordis.livejournal.com]

Thanks.