Notes:
If you would prefer not to read sex scenes, you can skip over this chapter with the knowledge that a good time was had by all. Or you can read the first third, and it should be pretty obvious where to stop!
If you would prefer to check tags before reading, then there are less than last time and no new ones, but you can find them in the end notes
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Harry had tipped forward to rest his head against Voldemort's middle at some point, and long fingers swept meditatively over his hair and forehead. Harry's breath calmed and his eyes unfocused, feeling pleasurably dazed and taken care of.
"Now that you have gone to all the effort of informing your friends you may be absent for some days," Voldemort spoke quietly after a time, "perhaps you might be willing to stay with me for them regardless."
Harry hazily contemplated this. Being reunited with his friends and family over the last two weeks had been brilliant, but more than slightly overwhelming. As if compensating for having moved on in their own lives, they currently strove to involve him in everything.
"Won't you have to go to the Ministry?"
"I shall take a little time off," Voldemort promised. The thought ignited a satisfied ember in Harry's stomach.
"Sounds nice," he said.
Voldemort's fingers pressed a little harder, then slipped down to the back of his neck to cradle and squeeze it. Harry's eyes slipped blissfully closed and he gave a little hum.
"I shall need to make a few arrangements first," Voldemort murmured. "Mipsy will show you to our rooms. Mipsy!"
The house elf obligingly popped into the sitting room. Harry rolled his head to the side against Voldemort's stomach to see her. She didn't react in any way to finding the two of them so close.
"Mipsy, you will show Harry Potter to my rooms and prepare a bath for him."
"Yes, Lord Master. Mipsy will. Master Harry is coming this way please!"
Harry tilted his head back so that he could look up at Voldemort. Voldemort's fingers grazed along his jaw to tug his chin between thumb and finger, then reached to stroke over Harry's lips. He started to lean down, but then pulled back. "You have quite bewitched me," he admitted thoughtfully.
Harry smiled.
*
Mipsy led him up flights of stairs and down half remembered hallways until they reached the master suite. He was ushered into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom, which was as big as he remembered. He'd only had time for a quick shower the last time he was here, but now the large round bathtub was already filling from the ornamental fountain of brass taps on one side. Steam rose into the room as Harry began to remove his robes, carefully setting his glasses on a cabinet, and Mipsy rummaged through cupboards on one side before an array of coloured glass bottles danced through the air, uncorking themselves with little pops to let gleaming droplets fall into the bath.
Harry hesitated, down to his underwear, and after blinking patiently for a moment Mipsy seemed to realise he was waiting for her to leave. She gave a little mutter and click of her fingers, and then both she and his discarded robes disappeared.
Alone, Harry removed his underthings and cautiously climbed into the bath. It was large enough for a few people to sit in a circle on the benches around the side. As he sat, the water swirled and bubbled against his skin, almost massaging. It was lovely.
His mind flitted from thought to thought. Memories of his travels. Plans for the next few weeks. People he needed to owl to inquire about apprenticeships and positions. They gradually dissolved and drifted away, until there was only sensation and a faint anticipation.
Eventually he dragged himself from the bath, finding rich, soft towels to dry himself with. His clothes had not been returned, but there was a dark green bathrobe that felt like brushed silk hanging on the back of the door. It draped loosely around him, fastening at the front with only two corded strings. He pulled it close around himself so that the front edges overlapped and felt less indecent, and then cautiously stepped out into the main bedroom, the long material of it pooling out behind him.
Voldemort awaited him. He turned to Harry with a flattering inhale at the sight of him, red eyes fixed and burning.
"You would undo even Lord Voldemort," he murmured eventually.
Harry blushed.
Unhurried, Voldemort moved towards him and stood gazing down, drinking him in. A hand rose and thin fingers gently dragged the collar of the robe aside, revealing flushed skin and a few droplets of moisture that Harry had missed. One hand came to cradle Harry's head as Voldemort dipped his head to taste, and another wrapped around Harry's lower back to pull him closer. Harry leaned into them, testing, and Voldemort took his weight easily. A small, content sigh escaped him, and Voldemort's head rose like a lion's from its kill.
"You willingly put yourself in my power once more," Voldemort mused. Several thoughts seemed to pass behind his eyes. "I had thought, at first, when you left to travel the world, that I might hunt you down."
Harry's heart thumped with fear and arousal both. "What changed your mind?"
Voldemort's eyes scanned his face curiously. "You sent cards."
"Postcards?"
"Yes. And letters. You described... your days. What you were thinking. I... enjoyed having this access to your thoughts. It seemed as though you were not running, as I had thought you might be."
"You'd thought I wasn't coming back?"
Voldemort's head tilted. Harry reached a hand to gently trace the smooth ridge of his brow, and Voldemort leaned into his palm, eyes half lidded for a moment. "It seemed a possibility. But a few years passes in an instant, and you had protections upon you to keep you safe." Harry's hand pulled back to tug at his earring at the reminder, and Voldemort's eyes followed it. "Still, I was... pleased, at the information that you were in England once more."
"Because you want me to take up some kind of political position?"
"Let us say-" Voldemort gave him a dry look "-that it is easier to keep an eye on you when international distances are not involved."
"And now that I'm here?"
"My plans are... undergoing revision."
Revision to accommodate Harry, include him, please him. "Good," Harry said softly.
"Good," echoed Voldemort, voice deep and dark.
Harry shivered.
Pulling back a little, Voldemort's gaze dropped to the front of the silken robe. His fingers traced down the collar again and then teased the two sides to hang naturally, a gap down the centre except where held in place by the fastenings.
"You look very fine in my robes, little horcrux," he murmured. His touch feathered down the gap, pads of fingers brushing Harry's bare sternum; his navel. Harry drew in an involuntary breath, skin jumping at the contact, and Voldemort's eyes flashed up to meet his. With a small crook of his lips, the Dark Lord slipped his hand fully under one side of the robe, curving it around Harry's ribs. A firm, confident pressure that Harry breathed into. Then, withdrawing fully, taking Harry's elbow to lead him towards the antique divan.
Harry was carefully arranged against the cushions, arms beside him and one knee bent just so. Then, greedy hands teased at the front of the robe again, catching at the lopsided bows Harry had tied the cords in. Knuckles brushed his chest, his stomach, and there was a long, drawn out pull of the top fastening until it slipped loose, robe gaping open across Harry's chest.
"Beautiful," Voldemort murmured, draping himself over the divan; over Harry. A dull red flush spread across Harry's skin at the praise.
Another tease, and this time knuckles brushed against his lower stomach, the groove of his hip. Harry's breath caught, and caught again, and Voldemort slipped the fastening open to leave him bared to his sight.
"Yes," Voldemort hissed, seeming almost mesmerised at seeing him framed in emerald silk. Harry's cock was already hard, and twitched under the attention. One of Voldemort's hands came to rest at the top of his inner thigh, thumb idly stroking. "You desire me."
Harry blushed again.
"Tell me." And now curious fingers moved to pet his cock, a gentle massage between thumb and fingers that had Harry pushing into the touch, "Have you thought of our last encounter? Have you abused yourself imagining it?"
"Yes," Harry hissed back. "I could not stop thinking of it."
Voldemort preened. "I regret the many things I did not try," he said speculatively. He weighed Harry carefully in his hand. "You pleased me last time. I wish for you to please me again today."
"Yes," rasped Harry.
Moving slightly further down the divan, Voldemort swooped down to inhale the scent of Harry, to bite lightly at the crease between groin and thigh. Harry widened his legs at a little more at pressure from Voldemort's hand, and then stayed as still as possible while he was inspected; stripped and laid bare. His stomach trembled with every breath, held taut, and his prick jerked just at the feeling of Voldemort staring at him so intently.
"Here," Voldemort hissed, and took the very tip of Harry's cock between thin lips, holding it there. Harry jolted, fingers digging into cushions to keep himself still. The pointed tip of a tongue teased consideringly against Harry's slit, and he moaned helplessly but didn't move. The only points of contact were the broad hand spread firm across Harry's inner thigh, and the tight, finely ridged lips closed over the tip of him.
Voldemort hummed a satisfied sound, and then started to suckle.
"Oh," gasped Harry softly, as Voldemort sucked and sucked and sucked. "Oh fuck that's-"
Not even the whole head in his mouth, just the – oh, gods – just the tip, and Harry was losing his mind. It was absolutely single minded; no other movement, no other sound; absolute focus and attention on suckling at Harry's tip and slit.
His breath hiccoughed in his throat, his stomach clenched and released, his cock bobbed and Voldemort swayed with it.
The fingertips on his thigh pressed down, unyielding. A slow flush of heat flooded Harry at the thought that Voldemort might do this all night. Might suck him forever. Might just keep going and going and, "Oh fuck," never let him come and just keep him here and suck him forever and tie him down if he fought and hold him down and pinned and swallow him down and –
Harry came with a small, strangled noise, hips arching despite himself. Voldemort followed easily, and Harry forced his eyes open to see Voldemort lapping thoughtfully at the come pulsing from Harry's cock. His eyes slid closed again, overwhelmed, and he gasped and shuddered.
There were a few seconds of hazy rest; of Voldemort caressing his thigh and hissing, "So good for me." And then the inevitability of Voldemort's head dipping again, of feeling hot breath and a rasping tongue and almost twisting away but stopping himself, of Voldemort inquisitively holding the tip of Harry's softening, over sensitised dick between his teeth before gently releasing it to rest between his lips once more.
Harry's whole body shuddered.
Voldemort gave one long, tender suck.
"I-" Harry forced the words back, forced his head back to lie against the cushions. Don't move.
Another.
An uneven breath. Just keep breathing. Don't move, don't move.
Voldemort gave another pleased hum. He latched on to the softening tip more firmly and began a series of slow, lingering sucks, as though savouring Harry. As though he really would stay on Harry's cock all night. Harry's breath hitched, quickening at the thought, and he dared to move his arm to cover his face, to bury his eyes in the crook of its darkness.
Voldemort was still moving on him so gently, so fucking gently; as though Harry was precious, as though he wanted to tenderly wring every last echo of Harry's pleasure out of him until he broke with it all over again.
Something built and built in Harry's chest, huge and uncontrollable, until it erupted as a half sob. His hand flew to cover his mouth, unshielded eyes squinting down to see the top of his plumping dick sealed in Voldemort's questing mouth.
Voldemort's glanced up at him, enraptured by his responses. He suckled a little harder, pressing his tongue forcefully into the furrow of Harry's slit and pulling around it.
"Ah," Harry cried. "I-" He cut himself off again.
Slight creases around Voldemort's eyes, which Harry recognised as satisfaction. Don't give in, don't give in. The pressure from the tongue eased, and instead it lapped and probed and, "Oh gods, oh fuck, I can't! I can't!" burst from Harry, torn from him, and he was undone - tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, hand fisted uselessly against his mouth.
Voldemort slowed. Drew back, the tip of Harry's cock resting there for an eternal moment before falling, bobbing helpless and free. The feel of cool air on the head of his dick made Harry cry out again, and he couldn't, he couldn't-
"Hush, now," Voldemort murmured. "Your poor mind doesn't know what your body needs. How it has longed for me. How it begs for me."
Harry shook his head pathetically, hand falling to his side, ragged breathing hitching and catching and refusing to still.
"Hush," hissed Voldemort in a whisper, sliding up the divan. "Oh Harry. You are exquisite when you cry."
Deceptively tender fingertips ran along Harry's temples, tracing the path of tears. Moved back to Voldemort's mouth where his tongue darted out to taste. "So sweet." He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to Harry's slack mouth. To glide cool lips against cheekbones and pause to press little kisses at the corner of his eyes and collect the gathering tears. "So precious."
The hand Voldemort wasn't supporting himself on dragged firm strokes along Harry's side. Harry curled in towards Voldemort, gripping his robes, curving around the knee leaned on the divan.
"Please," Harry said, and he didn't even know what he was asking for.
Voldemort's hand slid down between them to rub gentle circles on his lower belly.
"More?" Voldemort asked, gentle and implacable.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. I know you can."
Harry's breath eased out of him in a long shudder. Voldemort's fingers slid a little further, bumping the head of Harry's hard prick, and Harry arched into the touch with a muffled noise.
"Do you want me to stop?" Voldemort murmured. His fingertips nudged.
The feeling built in Harry's chest again, and his next breath broke as Voldemort's fingers gently pinched his dick. "No," he said. "Don't stop."
Voldemort leaned down to kiss the new tears away. "Good, Harry. Very good." He skimmed down Harry's body, adjusting and positioning him once more. His mouth moved red and hungry to between Harry's thighs. "I hadn't finished yet."
*
Notes:
Tags: BDSM, overstimulation; two men continuing to just go for it without discussing anything; Voldemort continuing to make Harry squirm