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“He had it coming,” Tom spat, hands as red as the blood pooled on the floor. Tom’s hand rose to his lips and he dragged his fingers across his tongue, crimson staining his lips. Harry bit the inside of his lip, breath stuttering in his chest.
Harry slumped back against the wall, knees weak. Of all the things to happen, he hadn’t expected Riddle Sr to end up twitching in a puddle of his blood. Despite himself, arousal unfurled in his gut, hot and heavy. Tom could kill — had killed — for him. It was enough to take the breath out of any omega. He widened his eyes as Tom strode across the room much like an animal towards their prey, blood-splattered and destructive, dark eyes full of focus, chaos, mania. Harry’s feet were glued to the floor, riveted in place by fear, or perhaps anticipation.
“He wanted you, thought of doing inappropriate things to you,” Tom said, voice low, dangerous. A bolt of arousal flared inside Harry. “I couldn’t stand it, hearing him fantasise about your lips or picturing you, sprawled out on my parent’s wedding bed.”
Harry knew all this; it had been through his manipulations after all. Little glances under his eyelashes, lingering touches and glances. Minor flirtations that could be dismissed until they happened three, four, five times. Harry had fuelled the infatuation Riddle Sr had, letting him catch a whiff of Harry’s scent days away from his heat or teasing him with crooked smiles. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he loved the attention, the validation only the attraction of an older man could make him feel. Riddle Sr was also ridiculously attractive, from his icy blue eyes and coiffed hair, his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Being the omega chosen by the rich, handsome Riddle was a place many wished to be, but no one else came as close to taking it as Harry had. And unfortunately, the object of his desire lay dead on the floor.
He’d let Riddle Sr press him against the wall in the hall today and Tom had caught them. Harry was the reason Riddle Sr was dead. He wasn’t ashamed, however, to admit how aroused it got him.
“You planned this,” Tom breathed a sickening twist to his lips. Of all the days for Tom’s natural legilimency to backfire on Harry, of course today would be the day. “You wanted him dead.”
“I didn’t want him dead quite yet,” Harry clarified but closed his mouth when Tom shot him a look, pinning him to the wall, bloody hands on either side of Harry’s head.
“Show me your plans, Harry. Now.” Tom’s breath ghosted over Harry’s skin, and he could feel the command fester deep in his veins, prompting him to lay his secrets bare. But no. He couldn’t.
Because Tom had just shattered one path and opened another.
A hand gripped his chin, tacky with blood, and he whined as sharp nails cut into his skin, hard enough to bruise. His heart beat as quickly as a rabbit’s.
“Enticing me with your scent,” Tom growled, pushing his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, forcing his face away and baring his mating gland. When elongated fangs ran over the sensitive skin Harry whimpered.
“Yes,” he whined, then groaned as Tom pulled away, his lips brushing Harry’s ear.
“No.” Tom’s voice was quiet, but strong, powerful. Like his father’s. “You don’t deserve a reward for what you’ve done.”
Harry was so aroused he knew if anyone touched him they’d slip right in. He gasped as Tom pushed their hips together. They were both ridiculously hard, but Tom was also ridiculously big, and Harry would do anything for it to be inside him.
“Anything?” Sick humour coated Tom’s words, and Harry nodded as best as he could with Tom’s rough grip holding his head in place. “Does a blindfold sound good?”
Harry’s head fell against the wall, knees weak, and he gasped out, “Yes, please.” His hole clenched at the thought of being blinded, with Tom’s cock suffocating him, thick and long and too big to fit, but Tom would force him to take it anyway—
He groaned, eyelids fluttering. And then Tom backed away, a smug, satisfied smirk on his lips.
“Perfect.”
Harry nearly collapsed at the tone — deep, dark desire crawling under his skin, filling his pores and overflowing through the air. He couldn’t smell his own scent but Tom seemed to, nostrils flaring as his pupils blew wide. His lips stretched, wide, devilish, and once more Harry felt like prey, felt like Tom could kill him like he killed his father for touching Harry.
Tom stepped forward once more, and this time Harry could smell him — spiced biscuits and old books, so fitting — nearly overpowering, and saliva pooled in Harry's mouth at the thought of having this powerful Alpha take him. Tom was so much stronger than his father and Harry wanted him even more, even though he hadn’t realised the sheer difference between them.
In Tom’s hands lay a dark, smooth cloth and Harry was hit with the realisation that Tom had also planned this, had planned to kill his father and fuck Harry beside his corpse.
He moaned as Tom fastened the cloth around his eyes, far softer than he expected. The sudden lack of stimulus from his eyes made him much more aware of his surroundings, of the soft sounds of Tom’s breathing, the tang of metal in the air.
“Can you see?” Tom asked, far closer than Harry expected him to still be. He couldn’t feel the heat from Tom’s skin. Harry shook his head and Tom growled. “Use your words.”
“No.” He gasped as Tom’s fingers found his mating gland, running over the skin and scratching lightly. “Oh, oh Gods, Tom—”
“Quiet.” Harry closed his mouth instantly, his heart beating rapidly as Tom’s torturous fingers disappeared, leaving millions of tiny pinpricks in their wake. Tom’s shoe pressed insistently against Harry’s ankle, and Harry moved it hesitantly, knowing it was the right thing to do the moment the shoe disappeared. He let Tom nudge his feet into position, just enough that Harry felt exposed, open.
Harry couldn’t hear anything now, the carpet running the length of the hall clearly covering the near silence of Tom’s steps. He couldn’t be sure what Tom was doing until Tom’s voice was right by his ear, thick and deep.
“Open your mouth.” Harry tentatively opened his mouth, hands quivering by his sides. Why was Tom feeding him raw meat? He swallowed, salivating out of disgust rather than enjoyment. But the way Tom’s pheromones flared made Harry’s skin crawl with excitement, fiery and overwhelming. Tom’s scent grew stronger, like he was reflecting Harry’s arousal back at him, and Harry was intoxicated by the lovely welcoming scent, so unlike Tom’s father’s, which still lingered in the air, feral and fresh, just like the overwhelming scent of blood.
“You look beautiful,” Tom whispered, as if overcome, and his fingers trailed over Harry’s cheek where the blindfold met his skin. His fingers were still smeared in blood. Harry shivered, stomach twisting.
Tom had never shown much interest in Harry at all beyond their friendship and it was almost enough to give Harry whiplash. But Tom clearly hid more than just his affection from Harry, such as the darkness that lingered under his pretty perfect persona, the murderous streak etched into his soul. Although, Harry couldn’t say much; he’d been planning to marry Tom’s father for his fortune. Their entire friendship had been formed on secrets and half-truths to the point where Harry didn’t know if it could go on from here.
But. Here they were, both of them laid bare, open to each other.
And Harry wanted Tom like nothing he ever had before.
Tom fed him more meat, his fingers brushing over Harry’s bottom lip. Harry reluctantly closed his mouth as Tom’s fingers lingered, gentle and bloodstained.
“What have you done to me?” Harry whispered as Tom’s hand cupped his cheek. He let his head fall into it, moaning as a wave of scent flooded over him.
“What have we done to each other?” Tom replied nonchalantly. Gods. What had they done? Liars, the both of them, murder at their feet and on their hands. Tom’s other hand found his, twisting their fingers together, the most grounding experience of anything that happened today. “Strip for me.”
Harry’s fingers found their way to his buttons automatically, untangling his hand from Tom’s. He managed to get his wobbly legs in check as he shucked off his robe and shifted out of position to pull his trousers down. He was suddenly glad for the roaring fire in the dining hall, otherwise he would be speckled in goosebumps. Harry hesitated as he stood in nothing but a blindfold and his underwear, suddenly swept into a cloud of nerves which had otherwise abandoned him earlier. Tom’s hand grabbed his chin once more, and he could feel the flaking blood, the heat of Tom’s skin.
“Continue,” Tom crooned, pressing against Harry’s side, and Harry flushed, pulling his soaked underwear down his legs, pressing his thighs together as the air reached his wetness. Tom’s strong hands found his thighs and pushed them apart though, exposing Harry more than ever. “Take off your blindfold, I want you to see what we’ve done together.”
The comfort of darkness disappeared the moment Harry pulled the knot, and it fell into Tom’s waiting hand as lightly as a feather. Harry squinted as his eyes adjusted to the modern electrics that decorated the Riddle’s halls, watching Tom throw the blindfold over his shoulder carelessly. It landed near the pool and Harry’s eye caught on the reflective gleam of a knife, next to Riddle Sr’s corpse, hacked into a little bit more.
“Oh—” Harry choked out, hands covering his mouth. He wasn’t sickened by the knowledge that he’d eaten a person — eaten Riddle Sr — and that was the part that sickened him the most.
He’d always know he was morally fucked and this just proved it.
“You’re still hard,” Tom observed and Harry blushed. He was suddenly reminded how empty he felt, and the distraction was welcome after the realisation that he didn’t care about murder, cannibalism, or other disgusting, morally wrong things. “Touch yourself for me.” Harry met Tom’s dark brown eyes and shivered at the fullness of his pupils, overwhelming the irises with fathomless black. He felt almost compelled to do anything for Tom. He wasn’t under a compulsion though, Tom preferred when people did things for him with their own free will.
And Harry didn’t refuse, his hand moving down to grasp at himself, realising for the first time just how hard he truly was. The moment he touched himself he gushed slick, beading down his tensed thighs. Tom shook his head when Harry moved his fingers lower, to his dripping hole. Tom moved closer as Harry worked his cock, pressing his body against Harry’s side. Tom tilted Harry’s head up, hand coming to a stop around Harry’s throat, loose but it felt like a brand against Harry’s skin.
His eyelashes fluttered as Tom’s lips pressed against his cheek, fingers twisting into his curls and combing through his hair in a way that made him purr. Harry leaned into the caress, falling into the comfort of Tom’s touches. He didn’t stop touching himself, letting himself be lulled into a haze of pleasure and affection, metal on his tongue.
Soon enough, Harry’s hand grew frenzied, the hand around his throat grew tighter until stars burst behind his eyelids and he arched off the wall, thighs tensing and stomach trembling as he grew closer and closer.
And nothing. He didn’t come.
He darted his eyes to Tom, who seemed to be a figment of Harry’s imagination, blurred and strangely lit through the haze covering Harry’s vision.
“A handy little spell, that.” Tom’s lips stretched into a weird smile, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat, stuttering in his chest. “You won’t be able to come until I take it off.” Amusement clouded Tom’s voice, and Gods, Harry realised just how attracted to Tom he really was. “And I don’t want to take it off until I’m inside you.”
Oh, fuck—
His gut clenched and he could feel the slick leaking out of him. He ached to be touched, for the press of Tom’s cock inside his hole, stretching him wide. To feel Tom’s heat behind him, over him, to feel the protection of a strong, powerful alpha.
“Don’t tempt me,” Tom whispered and Harry knew he was close to giving in, to having his way with Harry’s body.
“Please,” Harry gasped, peering out at Tom from under his lashes. Like father like son, Tom gave in, pulling away to unbuckle his belt. Harry let his head fall back against the floral wall staring at Tom’s profile, his sharp jaw and pretty, thin lips. When he pulled his cock out Harry bit his lip so harshly it hurt, overwhelmed. The size was immense, perhaps the biggest he’d seen. He scarcely believed he’d be able to wrap his hand around it.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tom said, very matter-of-fact, but there was a flush on his cheeks, like he was proud of Harry’s internal praise. Harry, however, felt his cheeks flare hot as a wave of embarrassment twisted his stomach. He’d forgotten his thoughts weren’t only available to him. “We have the same sized hands.”
“I don’t care, Tom. I want it, please—” Tom held up a hand, cutting Harry off with ease.
“Turn around and brace yourself.” Harry complied easily, and shivered as Tom placed his hand against the swell of his arse. But he didn’t line up his cock yet, instead casting a couple of cold spells that made Harry’s insides tingle. And then the tip of Tom’s cock pressed against Harry’s hole. He was tempted to back up onto it, to take it deep inside himself, but Tom gripped his hips, holding him in place.
Harry whined as Tom breached him, an aching stretch he was sure would hurt far more if he wasn’t so aroused and Tom hadn’t cast his spells. Tom groaned behind him as he sunk deep, his pheromones swirling through the air and leaving Harry a mess. Gods, he wanted Tom to take him properly, to fuck into him again and again and press him up against the wall, press his fangs into Harry’s mating gland and possess him.
Tom pressed Harry against the wall, his breath ghosting over Harry’s ear as he reached around to grasp Harry’s throat. “Do you think you deserve to be mated when you were halfway to presenting yourself to my father not even an hour ago?” Harry groaned, slick gushing and cock twitching. “Luckily for you, I was planning on it anyway.”
“Tom—Tom, please,” Harry cried, and like a shackle he felt the spell around his cock disappear, even though he’d never noticed the feeling of it before. He came then, clenching around Tom’s cock desperately and spraying the wall with his come. His wetness grew significantly, and Tom thrust faster and faster, aiming for the same high Harry had reached. Harry collapsed, only held up by the strength of Tom’s arms. He trembled as Tom wrapped an arm around his chest, bracketing him in his arms. His fingers found Harry’s nipples and Harry gasped, overstimulated. He hadn’t realised his nipples were so sensitive, but post-orgasm, when he felt like he was floating on a cloud, addicted to the feeling of Tom inside him, around him, he didn’t think any part of his body was off-limits at the moment.
Harry nearly keeled over when Tom hit a spot inside him, far beyond anything he’d ever made himself feel, legs even weaker than before. His weight was entirely dependent on Tom, and it was all he could do to keep standing, to not collapse entirely.
A litany of praise fell from Tom’s lips, his degradation streak seemingly gone and Harry keened, dizzy with need and want. He grasped at the wall, finding no purchase, but his fingernails tore into the wallpaper, creating tiny tears in the floral pattern. He hardly noticed, because Tom was pressing him further against the wall, into his own come and giving sweet friction to his cock, which was as stiff as could be once more.
“Tom,” Harry gasped, tilting his head, presenting his neck for his alpha, and Tom growled, almost ferally, and grazed his teeth over Harry’s flesh. Tom’s hips stuttered, and he bit down just as he thrust as deeply as he could, his knot quickly forming to seal them together. Harry moaned so loudly he didn’t believe the sound came from him for a second, and then he was overcome once more, quivering as he came again.
He slumped and Tom carefully pulled him to the floor, resting Harry in his lap.
“I’m still upset with you,” Tom said, and Harry opened his eyes (when did he close them?) to glare at him.
“You killed your father.”
“You were flirting with him. Quite the interesting plan you had there, I have to say.”
What? How did Tom know? Harry hadn’t shared it with anyone, and his rudimentary occlumency walls had managed to protect him thus far, but. But.
“Curious what a little bit of lust does to our minds. No matter the secret, it’s as bare as your skin the moment someone’s mind is addled.” Tom smiled, teeth looking unnaturally sharp and dangerous in the light. “But I’ll go along with your plan because it coincides perfectly with my own.”
Harry clenched around the knot inside him, and Tom groaned lowly, spilling even more. Harry’s fingers trembled as he brushed his curls out of his eyes, leaning back on Tom’s shoulder. His mating gland ached, dull and familiar, though he’d never felt such before.
And the body lay on the perfect carpet, gruesome and open, mutilated by Tom in his rage and his butchering.
“We have a body to dispose of,” Tom whispered, and Harry’s disbelieving laugh echoed down the hall.