It was a natural trap for any traveller through Wiltshire, for all carriages between the major towns would, sooner or later, make their way through the Dark Forest. There, the trees grew so thick that horses had to slow down to near standstill. The only passenger on this particular midnight carriage who was unaware of the danger was a princeling, on the run from his evil uncle, who had never worried about public carriages before; had he been aware, he might not have chosen to disguise himself as a young princess.
Their first warning was a panicked cry from the coachman, who made a doomed attempt to speed the horses onwards faster. The beasts - inclined as they were to survive the encounter, not to mention a great deal brighter than poor Shunpike - refused to obey, naying and rearing up, and bringing the carriage to a sudden stop. The five passengers were thrown about inside their luxurious compartment. And then there was another cry, and a dull thud, as Shunpike was thrown off his seat high above the carriage to land on the forest path.
The elderly lady seated opposite Prince Harry gasped and clutched her lacy handkerchief to her mouth, then attempted to peer through the window; she was foiled by the misted glass, however, for the night was cold and the carriage fairly warm, so there was nothing to be seen, despite the full moon.
"There, there, Minerva," calmed the old man beside her, patting the back of her hand where she was clutching the thick fabric of her tartan cloak. "We will simply remain calm, and we shan't be harmed." He smiled pleasantly when she gave him a distinctly doubtful look.
Prince Harry gathered his travelling cloak more tightly around himself, feeling anything but calm. He was about to enquire what might be about to happen, when his page Ron, sitting to his left, did it for him.
"Excuse me, sir? Do you know what's happening?" Young Ron looked more excited than worried, his red hair seemingly standing up straight with eagerness, blue eyes bright.
The old man nodded sagely. "I have been in this situation before, young man. The important thing is to be quiet, and to do exactly as we are told."
Ron frowned. "Told? Told by whom?"
"I imagine we shall find out momentarily," came the almost bored sounding voice of the fifth passenger - a black-haired man, dressed entirely in yet more black and sitting gloomily on the other side of Ron.
As if to confirm his statement, the sound of hooves in the distance announced a rider making his way towards the travellers at a steady pace. More horses could be heard even further away.
"Oh dear." That was the old man, rummaging in the pocket of his purple cloak and stuffing whatever he had extracted from there into his mouth.
Only that first rider appeared to halt beside the carriage. There was a bark of deep laughter - no doubt related to Shunpike attempting to regain some dignity - and then the carriage door was flung open. Cold wind and a few isolated snow flakes blew inside, and the five passengers averted their faces for protection. Thus, none saw the blade of an ornate dagger flashing in the moonlight.
"A pleasant evening, my good people." The voice was low and mocking, but sufficiently arresting to make all five of them turn towards the intruder. "Not a wise time of day to be about in the world. Especially when travelling with such fine jewels as these."
There was a yelp of indignation from the old lady in tartan as her cat broach was cut expertly from her cloak with the dagger, then caught in midair, before the same hand unceremoniously plucked a large emerald ring from her finger.
Prince Harry dared not look fully at the highwayman. He was breathing hard, shielding his face with the high collar of his cloak. His fingers nervously crunched the luxuriant folds of his pink gown in a tight grip. This was not at all what he had hoped for when escaping his uncle's attempts on his life.
"Ah, a young lady," the robber said smoothly. "Come now, my dear, do not hide your face. I am quite certain it is well worth looking at."
Harry's stomach clenched when he realised he was the only one in the carriage, aside from the cat lady, who could possibly be addressed thus, and he wished fervently that of all the possible disguises to don, he had not been fool enough to choose this one. He peered past the edge of his collar, a bang of black hair obscuring his gaze. His eyes - greener than the forest itself and twice as beautiful - fell on the robber's boots, which were of the finest leather, laced tightly and seemingly going on forever as the prince's eyes moved up the long legs. The boots finally ended well above the knees, giving way to breeches of sapphire velvet. Having begun his inspection, Harry could not help but notice that all of the robber's clothes were of the finest quality, his long black cloak falling in smooth folds around his tall, broad-shouldered frame, contrasting blindingly with his white shirt and its opulent frills and laces. Harry's heart was already pounding by the time he finally saw the man's masked face, framed by a plumed tricorne from under which peeked hair so golden, it might have been an angel's. He immediately wished he had not raised his eyes so high.
The self-satisfied smirk on what had to be the most handsome mouth Harry had ever seen tore any thoughts of angels from Harry's bedazzled mind, and suddenly, he was quite afraid what he might see, not to mention feel, should the villain choose to remove his mask. He could not help his genuinely feminine reaction of clasping his hand to his heart to steady it. He prayed he would not stoop so low as to slump down in a dead faint.
The highwayman laughed - a low, rumbling sound which tickled every inch of Harry's skin, right down to his toes in their fine lace-up boots.
"Good sir," said the old gentleman. "We will hand you all we have on us of value, if you only let us go on our way unharmed."
When the robber's head turned to the old man, Harry saw just how long and luxurious the fall of golden hair was, even tied as it was into a queue with a simple leather band.
"I have no wish to harm you, old man. If you would kindly vacate the carriage, taking your fellow passengers with you, I shall take the opportunity to search your belongings for whatever trinkets I might desire."
The old man nodded gratefully and ushered the Lady Minerva out of the carriage on the far side, though she did protest somewhat. "Severus?"
The dark man in the corner sighed. "What a tiresome evening this is turning out to be. Remind me not to travel with you again, Albus." He actually dared to glare at the robber when the same laughed out loud at his words.
"Come now, dear boy, and be still," Albus soothed, already standing on the snow-dusted forest path. "I have some lemon drops in my pocket to cheer you with."
The man Lady Minerva had addressed as Severus shuddered elegantly, but proceeded young Ron out of the carriage.
Harry began to scramble after the others so hurriedly, he dislodged the hood of his cloak to inadvertently display his short black hair and masculine jaw. All his fellow passengers were outside already and did not notice, but there came a sharp intake of breath behind him, and a strong hand on his wrist held him back.
The carriage door fell shut with a soft click, and Harry sank back into the plush seat with a sigh, preparing himself for the mockery and indignity certain to come. He told himself it was better than the fate he might be subjected to, were he indeed a fair maiden.
There were cries and exclamations from outside, the other passengers - and dear Ron most emphatically - demanding that the young lady be released with them. But meanwhile, the other riders had arrived and were telling them to hold their tongues, should they wish to keep them in their heads.
The highwayman merely chuckled at all the commotion, seating himself opposite Harry to look at him in the illumination of the small lantern spreading its warm glow. For a minute or two, he sat there in complete silence, assessing Harry with such interest and, there was no other word for it - hunger, that the carriage suddenly felt warmer than it had with five passengers inside.
"Please, sir, let me go," Harry begged breathlessly. "As you can see, I am not what I appear to be."
Full lips curved into a smile. "Indeed you are not. And how fortunate." A chuckle. "For me."
Blinking at the man in confusion, Harry jumped in his seat when the highwayman suddenly leapt across the carriage and was at his side, much too close. "I am no lady!" Harry yelped unnecessarily.
"Praise be, for ladies hold no appeal for me whatever." Letting this sink in for a moment, the highwayman removed his tricorne and threw it carelessly to the opposite seat, then leaned in. "Dear me, what eyes you have!" He cupped Harry's chin and forced him to meet his own gaze, obscured behind his fancy mask. "I have never seen the like."
Harry was breathing hard, which only served to make him all the more aware of the man's masculine scent - well worn leather, musk and the freshness of being out and about in the wild on the cusp of winter made for an intoxicating mix. It was a scent one might wish to cloak oneself in during a lonely night.
"And such milky skin…" the highwayman mused. "So much better on a handsome male face rather than some simpering wench. Tell me - why have you chosen to garb yourself in these admittedly pretty swathes of silk?"
"I... needed to escape." Harry swallowed. "My-- Someone wanted me dead."
The robber growled low in his throat. "Whoever the reprobate, he shall come to regret ever being spawned."
Harry blinked at the man in surprise, then yelped when he realised the tip of the robber's dagger was slowly being traced along the wide neck of his dress. He dipped his eyes, for his chin was still not released, and attempted to watch as the silver point reached the centre of his chest and, with a flick of the robber's wrist, cut off the topmost button without even the slightest nick to his skin. He was panting fearfully.
"I would not mar your lovely pallor, my dear," the robber assured Harry, promptly slicing off the next button and sending it flying. The smooth silk parted a little further, revealing more of Harry's youthful skin. "Like marble, though I dare say much warmer to the touch."
With that, Harry's chin was tipped up even further, and that sinful mouth was on his neck, kissing it reverently before opening to suck the fluttering skin to a flush.
The whimper escaped Harry unbidden under the onslaught of sensations - smooth tresses of hair brushing his jaw; that enthralling scent; the wet suction trailing down to the pulse at the base of his throat, then slowly up the other side until it reached the lobe of his ear…
The highwayman's breath was teasingly warm there when he purred, "The best place for a rosy hue is the innocent mouth of a youth, trembling at my touch."
"I... I am not trembling," Harry squeaked.
"Like a leaf, my little temptor." The man's grey mask, adorned with white peacock feathers, brushed Harry's cheek like a wing, making him shiver. "As well you should."
"Why?" Harry whispered fearfully.
A soft chuckle caressed the side of his neck where it met his shoulder, his flesh there slowly bared by a gloved hand. "Surely, you cannot be as innocent as that?" And Harry's hands were separated where they had been twisting in his lap, and the open palm of his right was pressed to the front of the highwayman's breeches.
Harry gasped, trying to claim back his hand, but it was not released. Instead, the gloved fingers curled around it to press it down harder, rubbing it in slow circles over the hard bulge beneath his palm. The villain's low, rumbling growl of pleasure stirred Harry fearfully, and he was horrified to find his own body reacting swiftly and with unaccustomed force. He was quite unable to suppress his moan of surprised delight.
His captor did not miss it, and his smirk made Harry blush. He attempted to back himself into the far corner of the carriage, but the man merely shifted with him, looming over him and holding his hand firm in that forbidden place. "You would be ill advised to make me chase you, my dear, unless your aim is to excite me even further."
As if to prove the frightening words true, the bulge under Harry's hand twitched and hardened further, and he began to worry about the proportions it might attain. At the same time, his curiosity was awakened, for he had never felt such a thing on another, and to feel it grow in reaction to his touch gave him a thrill like nothing had in his young life.
"If you will let me feel your smooth hand on my skin directly," the highwayman suggested in a breathy voice. "I shall give you something in return."
"What will you give me?" Harry whispered urgently, for while he might be a sensible lad most of the time, he was often subject to a frightful sense of adventure, and uncharacteristic cunning, by turns; the latter had often led his dreaded relations to wonder whether he had not been born into the wrong royal house altogether.
"What do you wish for?" the robber asked benevolently.
"Remove your mask!" Only once the words were spoken did Harry realise he should have asked for his freedom, but oddly, to see the man's face was suddenly dreadfully important to him.
The robber laughed. "Your wish shall be my command, once you have fulfilled your side of the bargain."
Harry nodded, feeling unsettled and decidedly wicked. With trembling fingers, he worked open the laces on the thief's breeches, the warm throbbing beneath the velvet both spurring him on, yet causing him to fumble dreadfully. But at last, his hand was inside, curling hesitantly around the hard organ.
The highwayman's groan was so heartfelt, it caused a pitiful whimper to escape Harry's lips, but it was caught, like an errant thought, in the heat of the mouth descending upon his own. And there was not so much as a play at resistance, for everything which made up the young prince's will melted away into raw nerves and need, and he was entirely at the mercy of his passionate captor to do with as he wished. When his lips were parted and a forceful foray made between them, Harry himself ceased to wish for anything in his life but to be owned and used for whatever pleasures this man might wish to inflict upon him.
When the kiss peetered off at long last, the gloved hand held Harry's chin, thumb and forefinger placed so he could not close his mouth entirely. "What need have I of jewels and coin with a treasure such as you crossing my path?" The highwayman's voice was low and husky, making the young prince want things he had never even known existed, things he could scarcely name. "Move your hand, but only a little-- Yes!" A sigh. "You stir me beyond all reason, and I would not wish to go too far ahead of you."
Harry did not entirely understand to what the man was alluding, but he knew it was something wicked. He wanted to ask, but he could not. His lips remained parted as his jaw was held firm. He continued to stroke the magnificent organ in his hand, feeling it twitch and pulse.
"Just so." A whisper pressed to Harry's cheek, a butterfly kiss fluttering in the corner of his mouth, the tip of a tongue licking his parted lips - first the upper, then the lower - before dipping into his mouth to electrify the tip of his tongue. All the while, he was not allowed to close his mouth, leaving him feeling as vulnerable as a conquered deer before a predator. A predator who had chosen to destroy him lick by lick, and kiss by kiss. "I believe… we had a bargain," the highwayman ground out at last, clamping his right leg over Harry's and pressing against the carriage seat between the prince's legs, mindless that he was crushing the silk of his long gown. He could not fail but notice how Harry shared in his excitement when his knee brushed hard flesh through soft cloth. He smirked. "And it is time for me to fulfil my side of it."
Harry nodded, thereby dislodging the gloved hand and freeing himself to speak. "Your mask."
One hand resting on the carriage wall beside Harry's head, the man raised the other to undo the laces fastening his mask in place. Like smoke, the grey and white feather construction vanished from his face, and Harry found himself gazing up into beautiful grey eyes, darkened with passion.
Harry could not help but gasp, his stomach tightening in the most delightful way. As did the grasp of his hand, causing the robber to arch against his thigh.
"Ah! Not yet!" Harry's hand stilled at once, and his heart was pounding. The robber looked deep into his eyes. "I wonder..."
"Yes?" Harry whispered breathlessly.
"I wonder if you would care for another bargain?" Mirth danced in the storm grey eyes hand in hand with desire. Harry nodded before he could stop himself. "Good." The highwayman grasped Harry's wrist, extracting the hand from his breeches with a regretful sigh, and then stood to tower before him, his impressive cock obscenely close to Harry's face. "Wrap your beautiful lips around me, and I will give you a kiss so special, you never would dare even dream such a thing existed."
Harry's skin tingled at the promise, but finding himself right before the organ he had been stroking into full hardness, he gulped. It was even bigger than it had felt in his hand. How was it to fit in his mouth? A gloved hand wrapped around it, directing it to Harry's lips, and when he parted them wide and allowed the robber to slide his cock inside, he was instantly rewarded with a low moan and a hand gently resting on his head. It should be odd, Harry thought, that he had never in his life felt more cherished.
The highwayman sighed, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted. "That is very, very good."
Harry thought he should probably feel wicked for agreeing with that, but he couldn't help it. Hesitantly, he flicked out his tongue to explore the texture and found a thick vein which intrigued him. He licked along it as best he could, and slowly, the robber ran his gloved hand back towards the base, letting more of his cock enter Harry's mouth. His fingers tightened in the black hair as he slid into the warm cavern with a hearty groan.
Feeling his own cock brush the inside of his silk dress was slowly driving Harry to distraction, and when a sudden spurt of semen touched his tongue, he responded with a minor ejaculation of his own. Not to mention a groan which had to have been heard by his fellow passengers outside; he had quite forgotten about them.
"What's going on in there?" Ron was calling out, and Harry flushed red.
There was a mix of laughter from the highwayman's gang and indignant muttering from Harry's companions happening outside.
"My men are out there, keeping the others from disturbing us," the highwayman stated. He stroked Harry's hair gently. "You do not want them disturbing us, do you?"
Harry couldn't speak or shake his head, of course, so he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again slowly.
"I did not think so." A slow rhythm of in and out was set up, the man's eyes holding Harry's as if to make sure he wasn't being too forceful. "Do you like the way I taste?" he purred. Harry groaned again, more quietly this time. After a drawn out moan of pleasure at the vibration, the robber caressed Harry's cheek, not interrupting his slow pumping motion. "I think I'm going to like your taste at least as much."
Now Harry's eyes widened. Was the man going to do this to him as well? His cock leapt, delighted at the prospect.
"Stop now, my dear. I think it's time for your special kiss." The highwayman drew back slowly, sighing when he plopped free with a wet noise which left the young prince blushing. Even so, Harry could not help but raise his finger to touch the wet, flushed tip of the cock he had held in his mouth, gathering the drop of semen resting there to lick it off his finger. His hand was grabbed hard and he was pulled to his feet with force, but the darkness in the highwayman's eyes was not anger, he could tell. "Turn around and rest one knee on the seat." The man's voice was little more than a husky growl.
Harry obeyed instantly, though he wondered what kind of kiss required him to face the other way.
His long skirt was rucked up unceremoniously until it bunched around his waist, where he held the yards of fabric in trembling hands. For a long moment, the highwayman did nothing, though Harry knew he was looking at his legs, clad in fine stockings which reached the tops of his thighs. And very nearly Harry's bare backside.
"I am very close to forgetting myself..." the man warned in a strange, slow murmur, almost as if he was merely thinking out loud. "...and bypassing that kiss in favour of fucking you as hard as you can stand it."
Harry shivered, having a vague idea - from whispered conversations he had overheard - what the man was referring to. "But we had a bargain," he reminded.
Soft laughter calmed him somewhat. "Do not worry, my pretty. I keep my promises. You shall have your kiss, and I will enjoy it just as much as you." Suddenly, the man was pressed against Harry's back, his hard organ resting against the top of Harry's buttocks, his gloved hands on his waist. Harry whimpered, having to close his eyes against the onslaught of sensation. The breathy murmur against the side of his neck left Harry shaking all over. "And I am far from done with you, after all."
Then the heat against Harry's backside was gone. But not for long. There was a soft rustle of velvet behind him, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the highwayman kneeling behind him, smirking at his curiosity. Harry quickly looked at the carriage wall again, blushing.
Warm hands were laid on his buttocks, and Harry realised the man had removed his gloves at last, and to touch him somewhere so intimate, no less. He bit his lips when his firm flesh was massaged lightly, flattened and spread until he felt the distinct sensation of his most private place being quite, quite exposed. He could not decide whether to die of shame or moan with the thought that his handsome captor was seeing him like this. Was… oh god, touching him there, fingertips caressing his hole as they might his lips or his cheeks, pressing on it, just a little, until Harry froze, a gasp stuck in his throat. And then came his special kiss - there. The full, beautiful lips covered his hole and kissed it as if it was his mouth, and then, as they had done with his mouth, they parted and a tongue wriggled inside him.
Harry gasped, shuddering and nearly falling, were it not for the firm grasp on his buttocks and the man's strong frame keeping his legs pressed firmly against the seat. He didn't think he could bear this without fainting, that relentless tongue pushing so impossibly deep inside him, and then the hands on his buttocks moved - one caressed the back of his supporting leg, the other the soft flesh on the inside of his thigh where he knelt on the seat. Fingertips brushed the swell of his balls, every so often, as if by accident, and then the hand not busy rolling down his stocking moved forward between his spread legs to grasp his quivering cock.
"Oh!" Harry cried out, this time truly having forgotten about anyone else in the world.
As if encouraged by his loss of restraint, the highwayman set to work mercilessly; his tongue thrust so quickly inside Harry that he feared to die of pleasure, and the hand on his cock began so hard a sequence of strokes, he was leaking copiously enough for the motion to produce a wet squelch of flesh on flesh, and for the hand to nearly slip many a time.
"Please!" Harry begged, jolting helplessly in the middle of the double assault on his senses. "Oh please."
And then the tongue was suddenly gone. Harry sobbed softly at the loss, then shrieked when two fingers took its place, thrusting into him at ever changing angles, until they touched him in such a way that his knees gave in at last while he came, gushing wetness over the highwayman's hand and into the folds of his fine dress. The strokes did not cease until he was milked dry and on the verge of pleading for the pleasure to end, for he could stand it no more. When Harry crumpled, he was caught in strong arms and turned to lie lengthways on the carriage seat, his outlaw lover kneeling at his side with a warm smile and sparkling eyes.
"Thank you." It was the first thing Harry could think to say, and he meant it most sincerely.
"You are most welcome." The man's voice was soft. He leaned over Harry and kissed him, and Harry threw his arms around his neck and held on, responding to the musky clash of tongues with equal fervour.
At long last, the highwayman whispered against Harry's lips, "Will you tell me your name?" He brushed a strand of hair back from his sweaty forehead.
"I am Prince Harry of Gryffindor."
The robber blinked at him. "Truly? You are far from home here on Slytherin land." When Harry nodded, he smiled. "To me, my prince, you shall always be just Harry."
"Yes," Harry agreed, leaning up to kiss the man again, before whispering, "And your name?"
"Lord Lucius Malfoy of Slytherin - notorious criminal and, hence not quite impoverished, nobleman - at your service."
"Lucius," Harry repeated with a smile, but the way he said it gained him another breath stealing kiss. When he could speak again, he whispered, "Such a beautiful name. It sounds like a caress." He did what he had wanted to do for some time, sliding the leather string out of the thick golden hair and letting it fall free around Lucius' broad shoulders.
"A caress none but my Harry shall feel from this day on."
Harry sighed contentedly, his eyes slowly closing, but then opening again suddenly when it occurred to him that his lover was still unsatisfied. "You have not--" He blushed.
"No, I have not, though it has been a challenge the likes of which I have never encountered."
Harry blushed, knowing this for the compliment it was. "What can I do?"
Lucius smiled. "You can spread your beautifully adorned legs, my dear." He slid his hand between Harry's thighs, touching bare skin where he had pulled the stocking down, and parted them until one booted foot touched the carriage floor. "And let me make my home between them."
Harry inhaled sharply, growing quite hard again himself. Lucius' words alone would have done this, but the large, warm hand wrapping around his cock and applying a few firm strokes, then moving down to slide back over his balls and to his still relaxed opening, had him writhing on the carriage seat. "Oh please."
"Mmm... I enjoy it when you plead," Lucius purred, pushing two fingers inside.
"Not enough, is it?"
Harry managed a strangled 'no' when they were withdrawn and three were slid inside, bending and seeking that pleasure spot again. And finding it.
"Lucius!" Harry cried out. "More, please?"
Someone outside yelped, and someone else exclaimed 'Blimey!', but neither of the two men inside the carriage was paying it any mind.
Lucius withdrew his fingers slowly, narrowing his eyes and frowning in concentration as he mounted Harry where he lay, lifting the slender hips. Harry cooperated eagerly, raising his foot off the floor and wrapping his right leg over Lucius' hip.
"Slowly," Lucius cautioned, the head of his cock nudging Harry's hole, his voice straining with the effort not to thrust into the welcoming heat at once. "Or I may hurt you."
"I do not care," Harry protested, whimpering softly.
Lucius' eyes softened when they met his, and he sighed. "I do. Slowly, my darling. Now." And he breached Harry in one slow, careful slide, wrapping his arms around him as he lowered himself down.
Harry bit his lip in momentary pain, but when Lucius began to flutter kisses on his cheek and his chin and the side of his neck, he was distracted enough to open his mouth and offer it up to Lucius' tongue, and once they were kissing - deeply and open-mouthed - the pain melted into pleasure. Slow, even thrusts to begin with, Lucius took his time, though by the trembling in his muscles and his heavy breathing, it took a lot of effort.
"Harder," Harry gasped at last, clinging to Lucius, resting one foot on the seat for resistance.
And Lucius complied instantly, thrusting into Harry so hard, both of them couldn't breathe for a moment, eyes fixed on each other. They remained so during thrust after thrust, each deeper than the one before. The carriage swayed slightly, the seat leather creaking, scratches forming where Harry's nails dug into it above his head.
"You are mine now," Lucius gasped out, covering that hand and pressing it down. He whispered almost harshly against Harry's neck. "You belong to me!"
"Yes," Harry agreed, shivering and happy and so, so close. "All yours."
"Stay with me."
"Yes! Oh…" Harry gasped, his back arching and his vision blurring as he spilled himself a second time all over his groin and stomach even as he felt the warm flow of Lucius' emission filling him.
They lay quite still for some time, breathing hard against each other's skin.
At last, Lucius said, "I meant what I said, Harry, even in the heat of passion."
Harry smiled a slow, contented smile. "So did I."
"Yes, my dear?" Lucius withdrew slowly, smirking at Harry's little shiver when a trickle of seed followed his spent cock.
"Will you let the others go?"
"Certainly. What of your young red-headed companion?"
"I would like Ron to remain with me, if he should choose it."
Lucius sighed, but he was smiling. "I doubt I could deny you anything." He smirked. "But I do hope he is handy with a blade, or my men might make idle sport of him."
Harry smiled. "Ron fights like a lion if provoked."
"Well then. He will find his place with us. Yours, of course..." Lucius stroked Harry's flushed cheek. "...is right by my side. Do not forget that."
"Never." Harry sighed happily. "Your no doubt beautiful estate of Slytherin shall be my home as Gryffindor has never been."
He was rewarded for his insight with a long, sweet kiss.