Title: Behind The Scenes
Summary: Harry is sold to one Thomas Riddle, an aristocrat of the Renaissance by his family after his parents die of the Black Plague. AU, One-shot
Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter
She helped a lot, but the mistakes are mine. She helped me build the world a little bit with a few special placed comments and helped me when I got lost or stuck.
It was a time of new thinking, of inspiration. The arts were increasing. Paintings were seen more now, especially ones related to religion. The papacy was influencing this new era to restore the church and to obscure the corruption the Black Death had revealed in the church. With this new way of thinking though, came the revolutionaries, the idealists.
One of the most prominent families had just been over thrown in Florence. The Medici family, which had run the city behind the scenes and also been the wealthiest banking family of Florence, by a friar named Girolamo Savonarola and his religious followers. The reason for this takeover was the leniency that Lorenzo De Medici allowed in Florence, the sodomy he let occur.
With the loss of the Medici's rule though, many other bankers lost their jobs as well.
A young boy cringed as he was manhandled by his uncle. He looked nothing but a boy, eleven years at most. There was a yelp as the obscenely huge man tightened his grip on the boy and pulled him along.
The young boy's body felt sluggish and he groaned as he was pulled by his hair, forced to walk by the abomination that he'd been sent to live with when his parents died. He coughed when his face hit the ground, trying to breathe without consuming something horrid. He heard voices above him, not being able to decipher what they were saying. He knew one was his uncle, though. As he closed his eyes, the darkness he saw pulled him under.
A man was standing over him with an upturned bucket in his hands and it took Harry a moment to realize the man had just dumped water on him. The man had black hair that was tied at his nape, the long strands flowing over his shoulders as he leaned over him slightly, the locks stopping just below his ribs.
Harry had never seen a man with hair that long who didn't appear more womanly than the trophy he held on his arm. Well, until now anyway.
"I am your master, Thomas Riddle. Get up; you're coming with me."
He obeyed the smooth, deep voice, pulling himself to stand and sprinting slightly when he'd realized the man had left him behind.
Harry followed Riddle, acutely aware that he himself might be mistaken for a girl. His relatives had never wasted their time or money on him. Even the clothes he wore were rags. An old sack covered his body, his legs were wrapped in rags and his hair was one long mass of snarls down his back because they never gave him anything to keep it up with or bothered to cut it for him. He continued after his new...master down a secluded dirt pathway that didn't look heavily used. His surroundings didn't look too different from where he'd lived before, so he guessed that he was still close to Florence. Maybe a little further away then where his uncle had lived before he'd lost his job when the Medici had been run out of town.
He followed the man for a while before he had to stop and appraise the house, his mouth falling open slightly at the sheer size of the manor Riddle lived in.
"Come." The sharp tone snapped Harry out of his daze and he followed the man through an open iron gate that connected to a stone wall, which seemed to span the property. They walked up a path to the main doors, the silence between them continuing. Riddle led him to an empty room in the back of the manor that took almost five minutes to reach. Then he began talking. Harry was dazed from the long walk and lack of food he'd received from his old owner. He could hardly keep his mind focused on the man's words.
"Now strip." Harry squeaked as he looked at the man, who in no way looked like he was joking.
He sighed lightly and pulled on the rope around his waist. Then he tugged the shapeless garment over his head and pulled at the rags twisted around his legs until he stood uncomfortably naked before Mr. Riddle.
"You're a boy."
"Err - yes, I am."
"Why did your family sell you to me then?" There was silence in which Tom growled, Harry flinching to attention as he answered.
"My parents died with the plague. My aunt took me in with my uncle's permission. They said I should be grateful though, that they'd take in an abomination like me. They're very religious and my parents weren't and…I di-"
"It's quite all right; I can't quite say I'm religious either. But that's neither here nor there. There are two buckets of water waiting for you to bathe. They're the only ones you'll get for the time being, do not waste them when you bathe or you will walk around with suds all over."
"I will be back when the clock chimes."
As the clock chimed Harry was seated on his heels in front of the door, just far enough back that when the door swung open, he wasn't in the way. His hands were clenching and unclenching as he held them together in his lap. Mr. Riddle looked pleased as he stopped in the doorway, apprising him, it seemed, before speaking.
"It will do," he murmured, "Follow me." The older man demanded.
Harry did so, his face burning as he left the towel behind, following the man in the nude.
The manor was cool and Harry shuddered as he felt the air against his skin.
"What sort of work can you do?" Riddle asked as he sized him over, his stare blatant and uncomfortable.
"I…I can clean, cook, take care of the lands, and wash clothes. Mostly everything, and what I don't know, I'll try my best to learn." Harry said as he fidgeted slightly under the stare.
A smirk spread over Thomas' face as he crossed his arms regally over his chest. He continued to stare at the boy with an expression Harry had never seen before. Abruptly he turned, ordering Harry to follow.
The manor's halls were covered in art. Some looked newer, the ones Harry had heard his old owner's talk about with the new era. Some were clearly religious in origin while others were simplistic. They all varied though, as if Riddle had no specific ideal of what he wanted. It looked as if he'd bought them to own them and to display to others instead of for his personal pleasure. The scenes were very much more different than Harry had originally thought though. Some were portraits of humans with things drawn over them, like someone was trying to draw the insides of their bodies without actually opening them up. While others were dark scenes of war. The variety had Harry mystified as he followed the older man.
Thomas led him to a cramped room with a narrow bed and a tiny window. "You will sleep here, Harrison."
Harry, who had never before slept in a bed, much less had a room to himself, squeezed his eyes tightly to force back the tears. At his old owner's house, he'd slept in a cupboard with nothing but the ground beneath him and the garments he was given to wear, which was more or less what he wore now.
"Put on these clothes and then report to my steward. He will assign you your duties." Riddle murmured as he watched Harrison dress, his head tilted slightly to the side as he measured the boy up. Once he was satisfied with the boy's appearance though, he turned to leave.
"Yes, you will, you will definitely do." Harry heard the older man murmur as he left the room.
Harry sighed as he wiped his brow against his arm, the sun beating on him heavily as he continued to work in the yard. Since winter was ending and spring was slowly starting, Thomas had instructed him to begin work in the yard and garden. Today was exceptionally hot compared to all of the on and off cool days they'd been having.
Harry had been afraid at first, servants were always beaten – everyone was beaten – even at his old owner's he'd been beaten. Here, though, Riddle didn't hit him or beat him. It only resembled his old owner's place in that the work was the same. Other than that, it was completely different. He slept longer than he did before, he was fed with food that made him choke up the first time he saw it. Riddle allowed his servants to eat the same thing as him. Only that they didn't eat with him, they ate after him.
He would smirk and say hurtful sarcastic things but that was who Riddle was. Harry was beginning to see that.
He could also be charming. The little guests that did come were charmed by the young aristocrat; especially when Riddle wanted something. Landowners and artisans were flattered by his attention and the gentry who visited the estate were beguiled by his manners. Harry had seen the man charm an aristocratic woman, convincing her that an object her father had wanted to keep in the family was worthless and persuaded her to part with it for a trifling sum, though it was clear by the glint in his master's eyes that it held great value to him. Her father had looked at her flushed face in bemusement before they had left.
"Harrison." Harry looked up to see the man walking towards him. "We have special guests tonight, go bathe and wear what I set out for you. I want to see you in the sitting room immediately after."
"Yes, sir," Harry murmured as he began to put his tools away, wiping his brow of sweat again.
Mr. Riddle usually allowed Harry to bathe at least once every two to three days, sometimes more if they had guests, like today.
His old owners didn't bathe that much. Harry felt immensely happy that he could do such as he entered the room that the servants used to bathe.
There were two buckets of water and they were steaming slightly. Harry's heart beat a little faster at such a privilege. His water was warm; Riddle had boiled water for him!
He savored the water on his muscles; sighing delightedly as the water worked its magic.
Once the water became lukewarm Harry finished bathing. He'd searched the room, looking for clothes and gasped at the garments Riddle had left out for him. The clothes looked as if Riddle had pulled them out of his personal closet to give to him.
There were two pairs of white stockings, one pair that covered his whole bottom and a heavier pair that only came up to his knees. There was also a pair of short pants that were very wide around his legs. The last of the garments was a white shirt that tied towards the top and was very loose-fitting.
He dressed in them slowly and carefully, not used to the lavish and expensive materials.
As he made his way to the sitting room, his stomach turned in nervousness.
The gifts, or small gestures rather, were most welcome but Harry couldn't figure out why Mr. Riddle would do such a thing.
"Sir," Harry called quietly to get the man's attention, his voice ending up coming out a little louder and confident than he'd meant it to. Riddle turned to him, nodding his head sharply to himself before he spoke.
Harry looked over to the sitting table in the room to see a chair set away from it on top of a white sheet that seemed to be acting as a tarp. Harry did as he was told though, his body slightly tense, especially when Riddle set a hand on his head as he walked past him.
The fingers stayed in his hair though, slowly trailing through his hair and pulling all the knots out of it. Harry's body seemed to relax without his permission as he leaned back against the chair.
"Sit up a moment," the older man ordered.
Harry complied and he could feel the man pull his hair out from between his body and the chair before letting it hang over the back of the chair, dangling towards the ground. Harry relaxed again as the fingers continued their work until he felt a pressure and heard the cutting of a blade as some of his hair was sliced off. He whimpered with the thought and Riddle stopped.
"Please don't cut it off." Harry murmured meekly, trying not to upset the man behind him who held a knife.
"No. I'm taming it, the company we're to have demands it."
There was silence for about ten more minutes. Harry slowly relaxed as he realized all the cuts were towards the bottom of the chair and never moved any higher.
"Someone is coming to visit, as I've said, someone who could ruin me. He's an official of the Office of the Night. Do you know what that is, Harrison?"
"They're men who go out at night to stop the sodomy of homosexual relations, especially between that of young boys and older men. When the Medici were running the city, it wasn't so bad since Lorenzo was very…lenient but now that mad friar is in control and things are becoming…chaotic. He's accusing people for the most obscene things without proof or want of it." Riddle stopped for a moment and looked at Harrison as if he couldn't understand why he was telling the boy this, if he would understand it, before going back to the task at hand.
Harry gasped slightly, his face heating up with the blunt words and the insinuation Riddle was making.
"Even though that has never happened in my house hold, I would rather not be questioned. You will be posing as my son. The story is simple and if you do not embarrass me, this will be very rewarding to you compared to the hell I could make your life. Your mother died during childbirth but she and I were never married. I allowed you to live here so long as you make your keep. This is the answer you will give anyone from this point forward if they ask why you work in the yard or if they question you on your blood."
"Yes, sir. Thank you," Harry murmured as he felt the older man's hands on the top of his skull twirling his hair tightly for a few long moments before he started twisting down the middle of his scalp, pulling his hair until he tied it with a leather band at the bottom. Harry moved his hand up to his head to feel what had been done and felt an intricate design all the way back.
"What is it, sir?"
"A French plait, Harrison. Put the chair back and fold up the tarp, once our guests leave shake it out in the back, for now, just place it on the back step."
Harry nodded before he did as he was told, holding the tarp to his chest as he walked to the back of the manor. Riddle seemed very…eccentric. He was nothing like the other aristocrats he'd seen. That seemed to be what scared Harry most now, however. Especially now that he'd mention the Office of…well, it was just the mention of the relationship that scared him at any rate.
As he made his way back to the sitting room, the closer he got the more he became aware that their guests had arrived while he'd been away. He slowed his walk and made sure his clothes weren't wrinkled or sloppy before entering. "Father," he called bowing slightly before turning to look at their guests.
"Ah, forgive me, this is my son, Harrison. Son, these are Henry and Ferdinand."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sirs, father and I have been anticipating your visit. It's been the most I've seen father excited in quite some time." Harry said quietly, a small smile on his face as he bowed slightly to the two older men.
They laughed merrily as they looked him over, his 'father' dismissing him 'to his studies' as the three talked, Henry and Ferdinand commending him on such a well behaved son.
Harry scrunched his face up at having to get dressed up for such a simple thing. He'd wasted clothes, clothes that were probably worth more than his life to most people.
Riddle spoiled him rotten. Harry was waiting, and afraid, for the time when Riddle would abandon him; quitting the overzealous gestures of kindness.
As Harry waited for the guests to leave he stayed in Mr. Riddle's study. There was an open book sitting on one of the desks in Riddle's study and Harry's curiosity bested him as he leaned over to read the open pages.
That vile creature, one who says he owns me, is on his last day. I cannot wait for the time when I over power him, and take what should be mine. He's brutish and undeserving of such a fortune or title. No one will ever know. I'll take everything and leave. Maybe Florence or Rome. It'll all be mine by the end of the day. I'll never be vulnerable or helpless again. Never be weak. No one will ever have under their power again. No seductress, lord, or man.
A dawning realization formed in Harry's mind as it finally clicked in his head. Riddle treated him how he did because he saw himself in Harry. He saw someone with potential that was helpless because of how their family had treated them. If he had to guess, Riddle had much the same history as he did.
It was almost two quarters before Mr. Riddle stepped through the double doors of his study, judging by the chiming of the grandfather clock set in the study. Something that had recently been acquired when Riddle had realized how many other Florentine lords possessed one.
Harry stood watching the older man. He looked pensive, slightly angry but also extremely intrigued. The anger put him on edge.
He stood rigidly as Mr. Riddle circled him.
"As I was contemplating a reason for your presence here, I believed as my son would be easiest but also very difficult. Where have you learned to hold and present yourself like that?"
Harry fidgeted slightly before he thrust his chin up and looked straight.
"I ... I mimic people... I read..." Harry jerked as Riddle pulled his arm maliciously.
"Liar! Slaves cannot read."
"I'm not a slave! I just lived with my relatives that abhorred me because my parents were purer than they'll ever be! I don't need to be here, I choose to be!"
"Why do you choose to be here?"
"When I was first sold to you, I thought all my planning had been for naught. That my schemes to escape from my relatives were useless now that I was under someone else's power. Someone I didn't know, someone who could be even more ruthless than my relatives. You weren't though, you were very kind, and still are. It was my godfather who found me and introduced me to my pedigree. He used to visit me while I was with my last owners. He was my father's best friend, but he couldn't be my guardian. Instead, he taught me in my father's stead."
Riddle stared at Harry for a while and silence enveloped them. Harry's green eyes were blazing as he stared determinedly at the older man.
"What's your last name?" Riddle asked ten minutes later.
"Potter-Black," Harry replied, his words sharp and precise.
Riddle's gaze sought towards him so quickly Harry thought the man's neck must have snapped.
"Why would you degrade yourself? Why would you allow that filth to do this to you?"
"They're the past. They don't matter anymore. I've been humbled. I'm not like the rich, rude, ruthless aristocrats you interact with, and that used to treat me horridly." Harry stepped towards the older man, watching his guard go up, hugging him around the waist, burying his face against the man's chest.
"I was afraid when they sold me. My godfather told me that it could always get worse. You've been so nice, so allowing. Doing these things for you don't bother me, they make me happy." Harry's arms tightened around the older man slightly hoping he hadn't angered the man by touching him.
So much time went by that Harry started pulling back shakily, two arms coming around him suddenly stopped him from pulling away completely though.
"Then I am honored you feel that way. I hadn't realized Lord Potter had an heir."
"They died when I was a season old, they couldn't exactly tell anyone."
There was silence again but it was a lot more comfortable than the last.
Mr. Riddle's arms tightened around him as the older man buried his face against Harry's neck. They younger man gasped at the sensation, his fingers tightening against the man's outer cloak.
The man's hands moved away from Harry's waist, shifting to trail beneath the boy's shirt, skimming his hands against the smooth, soft pale flesh.
Harry arched against him, his arms, almost impossibly, tightening further.
Thomas looked down, marveling at how vocal and responsive the young man was. He allowed his hands to firmly touch the boy's back, soothing him with soft noises as he pulled away slowly.
"Shhh, calm down, Harrison, calm down."
He pulled away slowly, allowing the boy to gain his bearings as he let the boy stand on his own two feet. Harry was flushed scarlet with his eyes to the ground.
"S-sorry, sir," Harry murmured.
"It's quite alright, Harrison, I enjoyed it immensely."
"B-but the Office of the Night!"
"Has no business in my home any longer."
Harry scrunched his nose up slightly as he made a small noise of understanding before leaving quickly.
Thomas watched him intently, Harrison's shy demeanor leaving him deeply baffled on how he was going to gain the young man's favor.
It was awkward then, for most of the week; even more than that, it seemed. Harry was nothing but respectful and Thomas didn't say anything in hopes Harrison would come to him once he escaped his embarrassment. A small favor that didn't seem to be occurring.
Harrison would spend no more and no less time in his presence than need be. Instead of taking his meals with him as he usually did, the young man would eat in the kitchens, staring off into space as he idly pushed food around on his plate.
It wasn't until almost three weeks after the small event had occurred that Harrison had to talk to him. They were having guests, ones that had been informed of Thomas' charming young son.
Their guests turned out to be a newly married couple. A young woman who looked only a little older than Harry while her husband had to be in his fifties. Harry smiled though, and greeted the young couple. He addressed Riddle as his father and offered everyone tea, giving a lovely smile when first he was complimented for his impeccable manners and then his 'father' for teaching him correctly.
He wandered off shortly after to get the tea and biscuits, taking his time as he continue to try and avoid being near Riddle.
It was all so odd, and even per what Riddle said, Harry didn't want him getting in trouble with the Office of the Night. As he made his way back, holding the tray of tea and biscuits he stopped for a moment. He heard what had stopped him again and he slowly began to walk again, heading towards the noise.
He stopped dead at what he saw, the cause of the noise; the older gentleman had his wife pushed up against the wall, ravishing her. Her soft moans echoed through the halls slightly. Harry, frozen in place it seemed. He wasn't in control of his body enough to run away until the woman made an exceptionally loud noise. At that point, he turned around and ran to a hall that connected to the sitting room in a roundabout way.
He practically slid into the room in his mortification. He slowed down only enough to set the tray down before he lunched himself at Riddle.
"Oh my gods! They were fraternizing with one another in the hallway!" He practically screeched, trying to hide beneath Riddle's arm, burying his burning face against the man's side.
The older man laughed as his arms wrapped around the young man, "What, little Harrison, are you jealous?" Thomas murmured.
Before Harry could even finish processing the sentence though, he figured out quite clearly why the young woman was making those small noises. After all, he was making very similar noises at the moment as he felt Riddle's mouth against his own.
He shifted slightly, sagging against the older man's chest, his mouth opening to the tyrant attacking it. Thomas's hands moved from around Harry's waist to his arse, grabbing it harshly as he moved them towards the couch.
Harry clutched the older man tightly, becoming dizzy and anxious with the sudden domination. As they landed on the couch, Riddle went down first and he fell on him harshly, his member rubbing against the older man's thigh as he sat down. The older man only encouraged him, using his hands on the younger boy's arse to rock him against his thigh and in lieu his own erection. Harry gripped the man's shirt in both fists, whimpering as he arched. The way he'd decided to serve the man, adamantly declaring his status but a few weeks ago, he knew that he could to nothing but follow what the man did. He wished for it but at the same time everything but it. He didn't want a worse punishment though. He didn't like being beat.
He pulled his mouth away from the older man's frantically, trying to breathe and moan at the same time; something which only left him shorter of breath. He gasped rapidly and continuously, his back arching even further as he sat up, moving with Riddle's hands; harder, faster…yes.
Harry fell against Riddle immediately, seeking out his lips. He participated this time, Thomas' hands tightening on his arse as he groaned lowly. His mouth ravaging the younger's as Harrison began to participate.
The older man was pulling and pushing him, causing the fire inside him to roar and send his body temperature soaring. In hi delirium he whimpered as he felt a small force push him, for those lips to leave him. Then he was being pushed a little more and a little more until he was sitting up on the man's lap again, Riddle lying beneath him.
"Forgive me, Harrison, but if we don't stop, the couple will see us. Surely they will report us to the Office of The Night. Let us not give them reason to do so. We must stop."
Harry nodded, climbing off the man's lap as his face flamed up. He stood, walking idly, trying to calm his racing heart and stomp out the embers of his embarrassment.
It wasn't more than two minutes later that the couple entered the room. Both the man and woman were flushed, their clothes rumpled and their lips bruised. The man looked as if nothing was out of place, but even if their appearance hadn't given them away, the woman's meek and embarrassed appearance would have.
"My apologizes, I hadn't expected to get caught up."
"It was a bathroom break, not a business break." Riddle teased, his eyes moving towards his 'son,' "Aside, I think you've mortified my son."
The man laughed loudly as his wife blushed a further scarlet, hiding part of her embarrassment beneath her hands.
"Well, it's been a lovely gathering, but I must insist you allow us to extend an invitation to dinner one day."
Thomas smiled charmingly as he accepted the invitation for his 'son' and himself. Soon after, he was ushering his guests to the front d front door.
"Sir, are we actually going to a party?"
"No, Harrison, you're dismissed." It seemed to be a sentence of invisibility. Before when he would see the boy at meals and random times throughout the day, now he never saw him.
He was like magic now, not seen, nor heard, but his job was completed all the same.
It was infuriating, how pliant, supple and expressive the boy was; how the young man could be compared to the god like beings in the many new renaissance paintings.
The tease, the minx; to declare such a thing, commit such an act and now to place himself in solitude. The need he felt for the boy was bestial, black. It would damn him, had already done such!
Thomas only allowed the madness to continue for a week - but only because he would not seem to be begging - before he sought the boy out.
As he went to push open the door, he snarled in frustration. It wouldn't budge.
"Harrison, open the door. Now." He ordered loudly. He heard rustling before there was a muffled: "Go away!"
Thomas saw red as he shouldered the door, whatever had been on the other side blocking its opening crashing to the floor with a loud, startling sound.
Harry had jumped off his bed, his eyes wild as he kept his distance from the older man.
"No!" Harry protested, his eyes shouldering. It wasn't a moment after he'd said the word though, that Riddle attacked him bodily.
"Why won't you submit to me fully!?" The older man yelled. His hands were curled into fists in Harry's shirt. Thomas threw the boy against a post of his bed.
"Because!" Harry yelled, his face flushed in anger and his fists striking out once he smacked the bedpost. A shout escaped him in his pain.
"Why!?" Riddle hollered, rage filling him as he shook Harrison roughly.
"Because once you get what you want you'll sell me! Just like the Dursleys! You'll make me leave," he finished in a whimper, his legs buckling as he slid to the ground in a heap. His body curled up protectively as Riddle watched on, awestruck, his mind moving quickly as he thought of a way to reassure the boy of his…commitment to him, though the word made him cringe.
He crouched down and took the boy's hands from his face and entwining them with his own.
"I am far too greedy to sell such a jewel as you." He whispered, trailing a hand across the boy's face. Harrison looked at him in wonder before Thomas was knocked onto his back a few moments after he spoke.
Riddle groaned beneath him, his arms wrapping around Harrison's waist as he lay back fully, pulling the boy with him. Their mouths meshed, saliva moving from one mouth to another as Harry became bolder. His hands twined themselves in Thomas' hair and he moved up the man's body slightly to sit on the growing bulge there.
The older man growled under him and he'd almost thought he'd done something wrong until the man's hands found their way to his arse. A place - Harry was just realizing - that seemed to be connected straight to his cock. Every time the man touched him there, his blood lit up faster than a fire could be stoked.
"Mine," his lord murmured possessively, his voice deep and dark, sliding over Harry hotly as he whimpered loudly. His actions became needier, more sensual. He didn't think of what he was doing. He was only acting to his body's wishes. He almost felt like he was watching himself, watching the climb to ecstasy as he rocked his body against Riddle's. He felt an odd sense of shame as he watched himself; he looked greedy and wanton, acting like an animal almost, as he worked to find his pleasure.
Thomas' hands left his waist, skimming up his sides as he lifted Harrison's shirt, pulling it over his head and trapping the boy's arms there. Harry whimpered, tugging at his arms. He yelped though, when Riddle smacked him on his arse with one hand while the other tightened on the shirt holding his hands.
The older man pushed him up before toppling them onto Harry's bed, their bodies twining together.
His skin was on fire and his skin on Thomas' felt normal. It was very odd to think he was so warm yet Riddle felt so normal, maybe he was on fire, too. Maybe his blood was liquid fire as well.
He moaned, burying his face against the older man's neck. He breathed in and savored the distinct smell. The one he'd unknowingly been following since his time here began.
Riddle's hand grabbed his own possessively before he pulled Harry's hands to rest against his chest. The young man didn't exactly need a hint though, only the permission it gave. Once he realized there was no way he was getting the older man's shirt undone however, he slipped his hands beneath the material, moaning at the skin on skin contact. His hands tightened to fists against the older man's chest before he relaxed, moving his hands against the elegant skin that felt like silk against water.
His senses were captivated and the movement of his hands on Riddle's skin fascinated him. It was almost like the first time he'd felt silk. His hands tingled and he kept moving them to keep with that feeling. The one that sent shudders down his spine and left his hands longing to touch again; the distinct feel pitched his fever up a few notches.
Even when he was turned onto his back as Thomas pulled his shirt and jacket over his head, he still marveled at the sensation, mesmerized beyond thought as he ran his hands down Thomas' arms. He gasped in surprise though as the older man grabbed both of his hands and pulled them above his head with such strength and finality that Harry left them there, unresisting to Riddle's dominance over him.
Harry looked up at the man; his cheeks flushed, his mouth open slightly as he panted softly. He looked dazed, his green eyes darkening with lust as his pupils dilated, black almost overruling emerald green.
His gasp became louder as the man above him trailed his hands over his smaller body. Riddle seemed drawn to him; like a moth to a flame.
"I'll not risk my title for you; however much you want this, no matter how much you are positively mine, you will act as my son in public. If you go against this single, simple rule: I will sell you. Do you understand, Harrison?"
The younger boy nodded, even though he felt a sting in his eyes and a clenching in his chest as the older man exploited his fear.
"Why are you crying?" Mr. Riddle asked, his gaze apprehensive.
"But...I'm not..." Harry said as he brought a hand to his face to feel the wetness that had escaped him. He closed his eyes though and put his hand above his head again. "Kiss me." He demanded, pouting. For a moment he thought the childish order would anger the older man but Riddle only chuckled darkly before Harry felt those sinful lips against his own again.
He didn't realize how much time had really eclipsed as he allowed himself to be pulled under by Riddle's drug filled kisses and haze inducing touches. It seemed as if he'd been waken up from a dream though as Thomas turned him over smoothly, his lips kissing down the boy's spine as Harry arched into the touch, his breath short. He hadn't even noticed his clothes were gone until Riddle touched him there, the coolness of the room suddenly seeming a lot more prominent when panic slammed into him like a physical blow.
His body froze, so did his breathing, Riddle didn't though. He continued on like Harry's world wasn't tearing itself to shreds right in front of him. He let the boy adapt to his own weakness as he reached over to the table on the side of Harry's bed, grabbing the vial of scented oil that made the boy's room smell slightly wild. He poured some onto his fingers before letting some fall on the boy's arse, allowing the oil to coax him before he discarded the vial.
Even though the boy had relaxed, as soon as a finger breached him he froze up again, his hands balling to fists in his sheets. Riddle was ruthless though, he didn't stop even when Harry made it abundantly clear that he was in discomfort with the noises he was letting out. Then something happened and the noises became needier, more wanton; Harry was rocking back on his fingers, mewling.
Thomas only smirked to himself, pushing his fingers against the spot he'd been stretching the boy to reach. Harry's shout made him start for a second before he did it again before withdrawing. He grabbed the oil again to make his entrance easier.
He leaned over the boy once he was ready; his chest molded against the smaller man's back. He nuzzled into the side of the Harry's neck, biting lightly on his boy's jaw as he twined their hands together before entering him slowly, Harry whimpering in a way that wanted more and nothing all at the same time. The boy was frustrated.
He chuckled darkly, tightening his hands against the ones he held before he shifted back and then forward again, feeling the body beneath him arch towards him for more. After a few more thrusts, a few slamming into the boy's sweet spot, Harry was practically howling as he shoved back, as much as he could in his position, against the older man. His hands were tight against Riddle's, turning both of their hands a yellowish white with the pressure he was holding them with.
Harry's sounds became a litany. It took a few moments before Riddle realized what the boy was saying. It was a repetition of his name: Thomas. Riddle. Tom. Then he heard the word Yours and he lost all control as he took the boy, his hands almost numb he was clenching them so hard.
Harry screamed soon after his loss of control, his body freezing almost completely before it snapped to life. His breathing was heavy and he was clenching sporadically around the older man before Thomas came, one possessive word leaving his lips before he bit the boy's shoulder as his release over whelmed him.
There was a polite knock and the three men in the sitting room turned to see Harry push open the door, holding a parchment to his chest, a brilliant smile lighting his face. He visibly calmed himself down when he saw that Riddle had guests.
"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, no, Harrison, what did you need?" Thomas asked fondly.
"Look! The tutor said I did everything correctly. He said I was ingenious; he wanted to talk to you though. He said he had nothing more to teach me. Does that mean I won't have a tutor anymore?" Harry asked crestfallen.
"Don't be ridiculous, we'll just have to find one more suitable to your intellect. Run along now, this is important."
"Thank you, sir." Harry murmured leaving the room with a smile of surprise and gratitude.
"You didn't tell me you had a son." One of the two men said a short while later.
"You never asked after anything of that sort. I am, in fact, his guardian. He is the Potter-Black heir."
"He's very polite, charming. What say you let him marry my daughter?"
Thomas smiled, even though the older man's expression indicated that he realized his offer had been turned down flat. Thomas was very proud though, after all. And he had never been able to share his fondest possessions.