𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?

Part XIII

Draco drew back slowly, never tearing his eyes from Harry.  The other man observed him smirking. Draco could understand the amusement. It said what they both knew: they had crossed the line. And now they were at the point of no return.

"Scared Draco?"

The blonde thought better than to answer. He observed how Harry's smile grew.

"You should," Harry said, slowly closing the distance that Draco had unconsciously created.

He was so close now. The Slytherin could sense rage, hate and danger emanate from Harry.  He barely had time to think that he had opened the gates of hell before it began.

Harry punched him right at the pit of his stomach, knocking the air out of him.  Draco bent forward, clutching his abdomen, his eyes widened in shock. He tried to breath but he found he couldn't do it. He blinked, slumping at the floor when suddenly Harry caught him.

Draco said nothing. He still couldn't breathe and just when he realized that he was actually suffocating, Harry leaned on him, kissing him viciously.  The Slytherin felt his head spin and his body go numb at the lack of oxygen.  Harry was still violating his mouth but he couldn't do anything.

Harry kissed him some more before biting hard his lower lip, opening again his fresh wound, tasting his blood victoriously.  It was then that Harry noticed that the Slytherin’s grey eyes were rolling back in his head. He parted from him smirking.

"What Draco? Fainting, already? But we had just began and you'll miss all the fun."

Then, clutching the collar of Draco’s shirt, Harry held him up and slapped him. Hard. Once. Twice. Trice. Finally, Draco answered to that assault with a sharp intake of air. He blinked regaining his consciousness, breathing hard, becoming more and more aware of the pain that pounded in his stomach and on his face. Harry let him go and he slumped on the floor. The Gryffindor observed the scene slightly amused.

"Get up, Draco."

The fair-haired man didn't react. Harry shook his head and, suddenly, he kicked the man lying at his feet.  His shoe connected with Draco's ribs heavily, and as soon as the pain crossed him, the Slytherin had to restrain a scream.

"Get up."

Slowly, Draco pushed himself up on unsure legs, clutching his chest where he could feel a pair of cracked ribs.  Harry put his hands on Draco's shoulder, softly.

"Next time don't make me repeat," he said sweetly, while his fingers dug deeper and deeper into Draco's flesh.  "Ok?" Harry asked.

Draco blinked, raising his gaze until meeting the green one. Green and out of control.  He nodded.

"Clever boy," Harry stated, leaning to lick Draco's blood from his lips. "Mmm... You taste good," he stated, while his mouth travelled until it reached the Slytherin's neck.

Harry kissed and sucked the soft skin and, unconsciously, Draco moaned at that contact. Then, suddenly, he bit down, hard, on the delicate flesh, until he drew blood.  He smiled, the coppery taste filling his mouth, and kissed again his victim, roughly, violently.

Draco felt sick at the taste of his own blood.  He struggled, trying to get free. Unfortunately, Harry didn't like the weak show of rebellion and hit him again, in his stomach and in his chest, several times until the Gryffindor seemed to get tired of that and shoved him away forcefully.