Archive of Our Own

They’d talked about this for months. 

“Bring him before me.”

Sweating, tangled in their sheets, whispering into one another’s mouths. 

“Kneel.” 

Harry stood, defiant. His public persona still. For another few months. 

“Kneel at your Lord’s feet, Chosen One.” 

Harry could feel Tom in his mind, could feel the gentle caress of his clawed desire. 

“Kneel.” 

They’d debated. Tom had said he could fake it. Harry knew he didn’t want him to. 

He felt the Imperius gnawing at his spine, trying to force him to kneel. He could shrug it off. He’d always been able to. Even Tom’s power. Even that delicious ache of raw magic that pulsed echoes through his own core. 

“Good boy.” 

Harry hissed as his knees hit the ground, hard. He’d given in. He’d let it happen. Just like he’d promised he would.

He glared up at Voldemort’s red stare. The Dark Lord sat on his gaudy throne, a select few Death Eaters at the peripheries, at his beck and call. 

“So defiant. So proud. You shouldn’t bother trying to fight it.” 

“I will never stop fighting you.” Harry spat out, trying not to smirk at the scattered gasps he could hear throughout the room. 

Voldemort’s laugh was cold, cruel, too high and too jovial. Harry had to suppress a shiver. 

“So bold… and so mistaken.” Voldemort flicked his fingers and the large doors to the ballroom swung closed. The mood in the room shifted. Harry could feel it as the Death Eaters stood at attention, ready for whatever their Lord demanded of them. 

“Such a young thing. So immature.” Voldemort mused. “Closer.” 

Harry felt it again, that dull ache, the desire to obey. He had to fight his instinct as he shuffled forward gracelessly on his knees, his robes twisting awkwardly beneath him.

“You should apologise for such impertinence. I dole out a great deal of forgiveness, but I demand contrition.” He looked down at the boy kneeling at his feet, “If you beg for my forgiveness, I might still be inclined to grant it.”

“Never.” 

“Never.” He’d said that last night, when Tom had suggested that Harry might chicken out. Might decide to resist after all. He knew Tom wouldn’t hold it against him, but he would never have brought it up all those months ago if it wasn’t something he’d wanted.

“I’ve had a long day, Harry.” Harry envied Tom being able to use his name during this. “If you’re unwilling to beg, you can show me your contrition in another way.” 

Harry could feel the nervous energy spilling from the Death Eaters behind him, but he blocked them out. For the moment. He said nothing, staring defiantly at Voldemort, daring Tom with his eyes. Begging Tom with his eyes.

“Use your own free will to kiss my boots and beg for my mercy,” Voldemort’s voice was soft, as though it was only for Harry, though they both knew the whole room hung on each word, “or you will suck my cock and beg for my release.” 

A hiss of surprise from someone, Lucius, probably, was the only sound in the room as Harry tried to look shocked. Tried not to let anyone see how hard he was beneath his own robes. 

“What?” 

“Suck my cock, Harry Potter.” Harry felt the spell beneath the words, felt his lover’s magic wash over him like a wave of fizzy warmth. Harry didn’t even try to resist. It never even crossed his mind as he let his fingers fly to Voldemort’s lap, parting his robes and pulling him out in front of a room full of followers. His most loyal Death Eaters. Harry had asked if Tom wanted more expendable people in the room, but Tom insisted that he’d handle the guest list. 

Harry watched, fascinated, as he began to stroke Voldemort’s cock, hardly able to feel the skin beneath his fingers. His foreskin slid smoothly over the hard flesh and Harry leaned forward, tongue already out- but he stopped, just short of his goal, just close enough that his breath ghosted across Tom’s tip as his eyes flicked up, meeting his lover’s and winking almost imperceptibly before letting his tongue snake forward, tasting him. 

He could feel Voldemort’s thighs tense beneath his hands, aware that Harry had just thrown the curse, that easily. The Dark Lord let his head loll back and Harry smirked around him as he began to take the thick length into his mouth. Now he had the easy job. Tom had to pretend that Harry was still imperio’d and hold a meeting while his lover lavished attention on his leaking cock. 

“Yaxley, bring me my wine.” Harry smirked, Corban had been a particular thorn in Tom’s side lately, he could only imagine the slick man fumbling his way toward Tom to obey. He’d have to watch the memory later. Fuck. The thought of watching this again- watching himself through Tom’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine and he swallowed hard, earning him a stutter in The Dark Lord’s breath, but no more. 

“Continue with your report, Carrow.” Voldemort’s voice was tighter than usual, but no less bone-chilling, no less commanding, and Harry felt his cheeks heating slightly as Carrow stepped forward to continue whatever it was he’d been reporting before Harry had been brought in. He tuned out the Death Eater, listening only to the wet sloppy sounds of his own ministrations. He could feel how hard Tom was beneath his lips, under his tongue. 

They’d talked about this part too, this part where Harry looked like he was under the Imperius, where he looked like he had no choice. Harry could feel the satisfaction through their connection, he could feel Tom relishing the attention, the show of power. The secret knowledge that Harry was a weapon unto himself, not his to wield. 

Harry knew that the Death Eaters would never trust him. Even if commanded to by their Lord, they wouldn’t dare let their guard down around him. He understood. Even if he was just a child in most of their eyes. Too young to be a true threat, yet too war-torn to relate to his peers. If Voldemort hadn’t found him- discovered the Horcrux in time… Harry tasted a fresh bead of cum and rewarded Tom with an increase in suction. 

Tom had been worried that Harry might bring him off too quickly- embarrassing him in front of his followers, so Harry knew this was not going to be fast. He knew that his goal was to last the whole meeting, to help Tom last the whole meeting. Of course, it helped that Tom could end the meeting at any time. 

He wondered vaguely what was going through their heads. Wondered if Tom was monitoring there too. If he could see which of them were uncomfortable, which were turned on, which were simply afraid. He was sure there would be at least a few who would become aroused at the sight of Harry’s bobbing head in the Dark Lord’s lap, but they’d disagreed on who was most likely to be affected. 

Harry wasn’t listening to the discussion, he knew if there was anything important, Tom would make sure he knew. But even without following the conversation, Harry could hear the teasing in Voldemort’s voice, could feel the pulsing in his length at the depravity of it all. 

He could still remember the shine in those red eyes when he’d first brought up the idea. 

“Tom, do your Death Eaters know that I can resist the Imperius?” 

Tom had glanced up at him along the plane of Harry’s body. “Of course not. Not unless they’ve found out through their own means.” 

“Is that likely?” 

“Not at all. I’m constantly surprised they don’t need direct orders to wipe their own-” 

“Okay. okay.” Harry groaned, but paused. Then, softy- “Good.” 

“What are you thinking, my soul?” 

“It would make you look powerful. Ruthless.” 

“Go on.” 

“Imperio me. In front of them.” 

He’d watched those eyes darken, “In front of the Death Eaters?” 

“As many as you want.” 

“It’s not my birthday, Harry. Why the sudden generosity?”

Harry had pinched him for that, “I don’t need a reason.” Voldemort hummed in assent before Harry’d added, “I think I’d like it. A lot.” 

He’d watched the slow smile spread across his lover’s face, “You know I can deny you nothing.” 

“And you’re turned on by the power play of it all.” Harry added with a smirk. 

“Undoubtedly.” Tom grinned at him, “You are a marvel, Harry Potter.” 

“Shut up.” Harry grumbled, “Show me some of that gratitude?” 

Tom smirked, but said nothing as he’d slid down Harry’s body, bringing him to two consecutive orgasms before Harry had begged Tom to let him rest. 

Voldemort was getting close. It was quicker than Harry had anticipated, but he wasn’t surprised. This was their first time doing something this kinky. This depraved.  

He could feel the tension through the bond as Voldemort fought for composure, usually so close at hand, but now it seemed distant, a fantasy that he’d told himself he’d be able to maintain. 

I can stop. He murmured down their connection, a skill he’d been practising at Tom’s insistence. 

Don’t you dare. Harry smirked around the familiar weight against his tongue, he’d kept his efforts basic, nothing that he knew would set Tom off, he knew his lover wanted to last. 

Harry hummed softly, and gave Voldemort a mischievous look before he began working in earnest, first teasing with his tongue, massaging that spot that made Tom clutch their bedsheets. 

“Enough.” Voldemort said to whoever had been speaking, Harry saw him glance down, his eyes sparkling as he met Harry’s gaze, “Finish it.” he ordered, the half-meant Imperius easy to shake as Harry hollowed out his cheeks, “Don’t forget to beg, pet.” 

Harry moaned, knowing the vibrations would set Voldemort on edge before pulling off and resting his cheek against the hard, pulsing length of his soulmate. “Please, my Lord. ” 

“Please what, Potter?” 

Harry swallowed, cheeks darkening as he remembered their audience, “Please come for me, my Lord. ” He let his voice carry, loud enough that he heard more than one sharp intake of breath at his words. “Please, let me taste you.” 

“Good.” Harry could feel Voldemort relaxing, ready. He managed to contain his smirk as he redoubled his efforts, this time intent on his goal. 

The room was silent save for the sloppy sounds of Harry’s mouth. He could feel the nervous energy, thrumming through the room behind him as the Death Eaters watched, unable to turn away even if they wanted. 

Where? Harry moaned softly at the word sent down their bond. 

“Please, come in my mouth, Lord Voldemort.” He gasped, pulling back just long enough to whine the words before taking Voldemort back into the velvety heat of his mouth. He was going to need to come, too. Hopefully Tom would whisk them back to their room after this. Not force Harry to sit through the rest of this silly meeting. 

“Leave us.” Voldemort’s voice was tight and Harry looked up at him in surprise, “Now.”

He could hear the shuffling footsteps as the Death Eaters hurried out of the chamber, but his attention refocused as Tom’s fingers laced into his messy hair, “Just us, my soul.” 

Harry hummed happily, suddenly glad that the others were gone, this wasn’t for them. Only us.  

“Swallow it all, my love.” Harry did just that, swallowing as he tasted Voldemort spilling onto his tongue, letting himself slow until finally he pulled off, wiping the spit and cum from his lips as he opened his empty mouth to show Tom. “Beautiful.” 

“My turn, Tom. Please.” Harry begged, rutting his own erection against Tom’s leg desperately. 

“I’ll take care of you, Harry, hold on.” 

Harry held tightly to Tom as he apparated them both to their chambers, “Thank you for that.” He whispered as he parted Harry’s robes and pulled him from his trousers, his hand moving smoothly and quickly through the precum that Harry was now steadily leaking. 

“Hnggg…” Harry bit his lip as he leaned into Tom’s shoulder, “You made them leave.” 

“I’m sorry, my soul. I should’ve-” 

“No,” Harry lifted his head up, meeting Tom’s gaze, “I’m glad you did.” 

Tom merely smiled, capturing Harry’s lips in a searing kiss as he tightened his grip, twisting his wrist as he worked Harry to his own completion. Harry cried out, biting Tom’s lip as he came across his lover’s hand. 

“You’re perfect, Harry.” Tom murmured against him, vanishing the mess and Harry’s clothes at the same time. “And mine.” 

“Yours.” Harry leaned against Tom as his glamour faded, the older man gathering Harry against him as they slipped into the bed, ready for round two.