This is a fill for a prompt in the H/D kinkmeme over on LiveJournal. To read other fills, create your own, or offer up kinky prompts for others to write, please visit http:/ harrydraco (dot)livejournal (dot)com/8037367 (dot)html *take out the spaces and replace (dot) with an actual dot*

The request called for knifeplay/bloodplay, this is what came to mind.

Vampireisthenewblack is a strict, and horribly (she would beat me for that adverb) snarky(I think she actually agrees with that one, though) …what was that word she used again? Oh, right. Tart…with something against the word "of," but I love her to death and appreciate her immensely. (And if I ever catch anyone else calling her that, I will destroy them with the power of The Force.)

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Rating: NC-17/M to the highest degree

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: I think "knifeplay" and "bloodplay" are warning enough, don't you?

Lacing our fingers together, I lift Draco's hand and press his marked arm to the headboard he leans against.

I lift myself off of his cock, causing him to hiss in a sharp breath as cool air replaces the heat of a warm body. I sit back down on Draco's thighs, our hard, leaking cocks pressed together between us. A warm, shaking breath fans out over me, but neither of us speak. Neither of us move to close the meager distance between us. I lick my lips, chasing away the remaining flavour of my lover as my fingers grip his fragile wrist more tightly.

"Do you want this?" My voice is low and smooth, with no indication that I've just been thoroughly fucked for the better part of an hour.

Draco nods. "All of it," he replies, thrusting his hips up as if to punctuate his desire.

I groan, dropping my head to his shoulder, savouring the delicious friction against my neglected cock.

Draco's favourite thing to do is drag out our pleasure, fucking me slowly, torturously at first only to bring me off with filthy words as he ruthlessly pounds against my prostate.

Tonight is not that kind of night, though. Tonight is one of the nights in which Draco comes home and wants nothing more than to be near me, as close as he can be. Holding, kissing, even just an innocent touch will usually suffice.

He needs, and I know this. It's what brings balance to the otherwise off-kilter world in which we exist. Tonight, Draco needs to feel.

He needs to feel some semblance of control. He needs to feel taken care of. He needs to feel loved. He needs to feel a pain that reminds him of mortality, of sacrifice.

He needs to feel me. On him and around him, swallowing his moans, drinking down his wanton desires, consuming every part of him.

Opening my mouth against salty, sweat-slicked skin, I moan with pleasure as I drag my tongue along the outline of Draco's collarbone. The fingers of his free hand dance lightly over my hip before finding purchase, gripping tightly. I gently nip and lick as my own free hand feels around beneath the pillow, my fingers closing around the object I search for.

Draco shudders as it scrapes bluntly across his jaw.

There's something about the intimacy of a cool steel blade that one doesn't find with a wand. Something about the moonlight glinting off of it, reflected in equally silver eyes.

Dragging the dull edge of the blade up along the inky, twisting line on Draco's forearm, I elicit a soft whimper from my lover.

I offer him a dark smile.

"There, yes," Draco breathes, his voice somewhere between intense desire and unnecessary fear. He should know by now that I won't hurt him. Not really. I'd never cut so deeply that it couldn't be mended. Never get so lost in my own debauched game that I don't pay close enough attention to his reactions.

I rise to my knees again as Draco aligns himself with my entrance. Slowly, I circle my hips, teasing the head of Draco's thick cock, but not yet taking him inside.

He watches me, grey eyes dancing in the light of the moon as he holds me captive with his gaze. I'm powerless to his will, but as I turn the blade against his arm, pressing the razor-sharp edge to the unmarked expanse of skin on his wrist, I feel empowered.

His eyelids drop, lips parting as he gasps and I can't wait any longer. I feel, more than hear, a faint pop as the blade slices through his delicate skin and, as I drag it down through the Dark Mark on his forearm, I sink down onto his cock.

His back arches as he cries out with a combination of pleasure and pain, fingertips digging mercilessly into my hip as he holds me down against him, canting his own hips to shove his cock into me as deeply as possible.

I barely resist the urge to close my eyes and drop my head back. I need to watch him. Especially this part.

Slowly, his eyes slide open and something dark shines through from within. I can't take my eyes off his. I want to watch as warm blood pulses from his marred skin, but the intense desire and longing I see boiling in his molten gaze freezes me.

I want to kiss him. To taste the warm flavour of need on his tongue. But I can't. Not yet. Instead, I circle my hips again, relishing the feel of his thick, hard cock as it drags against every nerve ending inside me.

His gaze releases me finally as he looks down to where we're joined, groaning and hissing as he watches his cock disappear into my body over and over again.

My hand on his wrist is warm and sticky with spilt blood, the metallic scent assaulting my nostrils and causing my cock to twitch as it slides up and down against Draco's hard stomach.

Unable to wait any longer, I lean forward, tracing my tongue up the cut on his forearm. I wonder, not for the first time, how something so dirty, so fucking wrong, could possibly taste so sweet.

He cries out again as my lips close on the pulse point of his wrist, drawing his hot, pure blood into my mouth. In an instant, his hands are on my face, pulling me to him, crashing our mouths together. He kisses me deeply, sucking every bit of his own blood from my tongue as he thrusts into me almost violently.

Blood drips from his arm, splattering against my thigh and marring the white sheets of our bed. My rhythm falters as he steals my breath away.

"Turn around," he breathes between desperate, messy kisses.

Reluctantly, I move off his lap, nearly sobbing with the loss of fullness when he's no longer inside me. He shushes me, shifting onto his knees.

"Back over here," he says, and I quickly move to oblige.

With his knee, he nudges my thighs apart. He presses his forearm against my back, warm, wet blood dripping down my side as he guides his cock up and down the crack of my arse.

"Please," I say, and I wonder when it was that I lost control of this little game of ours.

A soft laugh escapes him as he leans down, licking a stripe up the centre of my back. My head lolls forward, weak with desire as I picture him laving his own blood off of my skin. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he holds me steady as his slick fingers push into my body. Two, maybe three? Nowhere near as thick as his cock, but the way he moves them—in and out, back and forth, scissoring them inside me—feels just as fucking good.

He coaxes me up onto my knees so that my back is pressed to his chest before shoving his dick into me again, filling me deeper and more completely than before.

One arm still around my waist, he drags the other up across my chest, leaving a warm trail of blood in his wake that quickly cools on my skin. I take his hand, bringing his arm to my face so that I can see the dark crimson dripping from him as he fucks me. He's losing more blood than usual, and I wonder how it is he hasn't become weak yet. I need to get him off fast so that I can heal his wound and he can sleep. Licking a drop from his beautiful, pale skin, I take his fingers into my mouth, sucking them with the same enthusiasm I use to suck his cock, matching his forceful rhythm.

He fucks me hard and fast and I clench all of my muscles inside and out in an attempt to draw his orgasm from him while staving off my own. His free hand, wet with blood from my stomach, wraps around my cock, squeezing and stroking and soon, both of us are crying out with the force of blissful release. He holds me tight against him, sucking my neck and shoulder as every last drop of come leaves his body, filling mine.

Gently, I hold his arm to my lips, whispering Episkey and kissing his skin as it mends together flawlessly. Years of practice ensure that's the case. No indelible evidence for anyone else to see.

He's still inside me as we drop down onto the bed together, exhausted and sated.

"I love you, Harry," he whispers against the back of my neck. "Thank you."