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A Matter of Trust

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Harry knelt. His knees were parted to display his leather-wrapped cock, his hands laced behind his head, his back straight.

After a few seconds, a gloved hand slid into Harry's hair, took a firm grip, and yanked. "Acceptable," Lucius drawled.

The small pain jolted down Harry's spine, but he managed to maintain position without so much as an indrawn breath. "Thank you, sir," he said, and then had to fight the urge to smile at not buggering that up, too.

He could feel Lucius crouch behind him, balancing himself with one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other still in Harry's hair. "We have a guest," Lucius whispered. "Shall I show you off?"

The question was rhetorical, but the thought of being watched made Harry's cock swell that much more within its bonds. He glanced upwards through his eyelashes, but couldn't see anyone else in the room. Petrified and disillusioned, Harry realised and breathed, "Please."

Lucius's acknowledgment came in the way he reached around, took one of Harry's nipples between a leather-clad finger and thumb, and twisted.

Harry bit his lip in an attempt to stay quiet, and Lucius repeated the action. Once, twice, and three times, a little harder each time, until Harry could do nothing but moan.

"So good for me," Lucius said, his mouth against Harry's ear. "Just for tonight, love, I want to hear you. I want our guest to hear you."

"Yes," Harry hissed.

"I expect appropriate behaviour from you, however." Lucius's sharp teeth nipped at Harry's earlobe. "Use your word as you need it, as you would if we were alone and you had no one but me to impress. I shall accept nothing less from you."

Lucius's hand moved to Harry's other nipple. Pulling on it, twisting it, teasing it until Harry was arching into his touch, leaning back against Lucius to maintain his balance. He clenched his hands, the heavy ring on his left hand biting into his skin, as he focussed on not reaching out without permission.

When Lucius released one of his nipples Harry whimpered at the loss of sensation. Then he cried out in satisfaction as Lucius rubbed the rough seam of his glove against Harry's already sensitive skin. Sparks flared through Harry, a thousand small hurts turning into pleasure, firing his nerves.

"Sir?" Harry begged when Lucius withdrew his hand completely.

"Remove my gloves." Lucius placed his fingers at Harry's mouth, and Harry licked his lips, tasting the leather, before setting his teeth carefully to the tip of one finger.

Harry bit down, holding onto the finger of the glove. His neck muscles ached as he fought the pull each time Lucius tugged, for each finger and thumb, until the glove was off.

When the second glove was off and had been tossed away to land on top of the first, Lucius picked up his wand and dragged the tip around Harry's nipples. Three times, drawing figure eights on Harry's chest, before Lucius murmured, "Fibulae."

The clamps were silver — old, ornately carved with runes, and heavy enough to bite into Harry's nipples. They were cold against the heat of Harry's skin, compared to the warmth of Lucius's hands. Each tug on the connecting chain sent a sharp flare of arousal through Harry, sizzling down his spine. He arched back only to have Lucius shove him forwards.

Releasing his hands, Harry used them to break his fall. The chain swung heavy and weighted as he adjusted his position, the nipple clamps bit harder, and he moaned. Beneath that, far quieter than his own noise, Harry heard a faint whimper that made his throat ache, dry as dust with want and need.

The scratch of Lucius's blunt nails brought Harry's attention back to Lucius, to the hand that was sliding across his arse. A couple of taps, soft and gentle against his inner thighs encouraged Harry to spread them further. He folded his arms and laid his forehead on them, raising his arse as high as he could, leaving himself open and vulnerable to whatever Lucius wanted.

A tap, a slap, a smack. One after the other. Alternating from one side of Harry's arse to the other. Occasionally slapping his inner thighs, tapping the underside of his wrapped balls. Harry rocked into each hit, into the heat of them, soaring on a haze of pain and feeling, of love and desire.

Occasionally, Lucius murmured his name, murmured encouragement. "So good," he said. "My Harry," and "Lovely," and "So beautiful for me."

Each word, each phrase sank into Harry, reinforced by the spikes of electric stinging, by the ungentle touch of Lucius's need. He responded with words he couldn't hear or understand, with truths that he didn't know how else to say, that he couldn't trust without being taken so deep into himself that all he could do was feel.

Then there was a slick warm finger inside him, a spell opening him up. A second finger and a third, and then a fourth pressed into him, pushing his boundaries, stretching him to the edge of pain before withdrawing.

"Need," Harry whimpered. "Empty. Please." He ached for more, for something. He held still, resisted the urge to raise his arse, feeling his muscles quiver, hearing their guest groan, driving Harry's need higher and higher. But the leather binding his cock and balls held him tight, kept him from the edge.

And then Lucius entered him. A single thrust of Lucius's cock into Harry's arse that slid past Harry's prostate and drew more words from Harry. Incomprehensible syllables that were all he had to offer, that he knew Lucius would understand, would appreciate.

Lucius slid an arm around Harry's waist, pulled him up and into his lap with Harry's back to his front. The chain slapped into Harry's chest, the clamps bit into his nipples, and Harry bucked.

"Hold on," Lucius ordered. "Show yourself."

Raising his arms, Harry looped them around Lucius's neck, tangling them in Lucius's silky soft hair. Lucius kept his arm around Harry's waist, possessive and secure, and wrapped the other hand around Harry's cock.

Lucius's pace was fast, almost brutal, pain and pleasure. Harry flew on the pain and pleasure, on the utter joy of being wanted and needed for what he could offer. And at the end, as Lucius raised up on his knees and drove into Harry, as the leather unravelled and Lucius tugged on Harry's cock, digging a fingernail into the slit, Harry turned his head and came as Lucius kissed him.

Long minutes, perhaps hours, passed. Lucius held Harry, stroked his hair, and caressed his skin. He murmured words of pride that only Harry could hear, that weren't for anyone else, not even their guest. He held the cut crystal goblet for Harry to drink cool water that spoke more of love than Harry had ever heard from anyone else.

"Show me," Harry said, brushing his lips over Lucius's.

"If you're ready." Lucius stood and brought Harry to his feet. He held Harry against him as he waved his wand. "Finite Incantatem."

The spells slid away, and Neville stood in front of them. His face was red. His trousers looked painfully tight over his hard cock.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry said, taking advantage of the freedom Lucius had granted him to allow his voice to reveal his hurt and betrayal. "I told everyone I was happy. That Lucius takes care of me. Why can't you trust me?"

Neville's blush deepened. "I... I thought it was better me than Ron or Molly."

Images flashed through Harry's mind, and he smiled. "Probably."

There was a moment of silence. Lucius placed his hand at the small of Harry's back, and Harry reached up to take hold of the chain that still hung over his chest. "You still shouldn't be here though. Not without an invitation."

Harry spoke the words that Lucius had offered him all those months ago, the trust that meant everything to both of them. And the wards reacted, obeying one of the masters of Malfoy Manor. Light flashed around Neville, gentle silver rather than dark black, leaving Lucius and Harry alone in their bedroom.

"I sent him home," Harry said in answer to Lucius's unspoken question, and then he let Lucius carry him to bed.