There are things, Harry Potter knows, that can not be undone.
He is in bed between Dresden who he shares both his first name as well as a bed, and Dresden's older half brother, and says not a word as they wake. Dresden drags him nearer, nuzzling sleepily at him in all the right places. Thomas grins at him and with a wink, gives him a kiss that Dresden opens his eyes to see.
"First thing in the morning, you really want to go there Thomas – after last night?" Dresden drawls sleepily, his Chicago accent thick in their ears. It isn't really morning, but it is when they wake. Harry sighs against his chest and lets Thomas trail kisses from lips to neck to chest to navel and groans when quick lips caress his groin.
There is nothing but a sheet to cover them and the bed is Thomas's best.
"Really, really do." Thomas purrs, nuzzling at Harry's thigh playfully. Harry parts his legs willingly, putting one about Dresden's thigh so he can not escape. There are things he would not undo and would not for all the world change.
For Harry Dresden, family is an important thing. Thomas can understand that, they are half-brothers, but do not share much in looks, and nothing in name. Only their mother's blood from birth runs in their veins just the same. Harry does not know what it means to have family, and so Dresden and Thomas show it what it means to share.
As Thomas licks and sucks at Harry's front, Dresden takes advantage of his eager lifting hips, and slides his hand between Harry's back and the mattress. A quick slide of green eyes, low lidded bedroom eyes: as if Harry must struggle to see.
He is aware, but does nothing to hamper Dresden, which is no mistake on his part, Dresden is determined to prove.
"Well then, you're welcome to make him moan, but I'll have him on his stomach soon." Harry's cheeks flush red, and Dresden only grins at him.
Thomas's mouth, lower down, makes an obscene sound. It is only good breeding, power that isn't based in magic and isn't a vampire incubus: a competition between them, to see which brother Harry will bow his back to first.
Harry's fingers clench into the sheets, he is too proud to bow yet, yet – undeniably (so much so that Harry himself never disclaims it) he is theirs.
Harry Dresden will always have regrets, but this isn't one of them. Will never be one of them.
Thomas Raith knows he must feed to tame the demon tucked into his soul, a demon he was born with, but a demon he vowed in silence never to become (again).
With his tongue Thomas reduces Harry to mere sounds, no more words cross those red bitten lips. With his mouth he welcomes Harry in, to use him as soon Harry will be used.
Fingers touch lower, scraping teasingly against sensitive folds of skin. There, between Harry's thighs, Thomas is not alone and has no fear that he'll loose control, taking life rather then making love. With Dresden's fingers tangled with his own, they make Harry bow to them.
It is as it ought to be, it is as it will always be.