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Their fight has ended with them on the floor, Draco's body pinning Harry against the harsh stone as he draws back and punches Harry once more across the face. His glasses are broken and his right eye is beginning to swell quickly as his struggle wanes. And oh god, this can't be happening. Not again. But the pain in his body and face and the feel of Draco's weight against him is sending all the blood not spilling from his lip straight to his c**k.

Draco pauses above him, and looks straight into Harry's eyes, and ********, he's barely even touched him yet, but Harry can tell Draco knows what his traitorous body wants, can feel it against his hip. Harry can't let this happen again, won't let this happen again, no matter that his singing nerve endings are all telling him differently.

Draco leans down to lick a long, wet line up his neck that ends with a vicious bite, and his slender aristocratic hands, marred with cuts and bruises from both this bout and the last, fumble at the buttons of Harry's shirt. Panicking, Harry finally renews his struggle, dislodging Draco and scrambling back, his shirt half torn but still gripped in Draco's tight fist.

But Draco has a Seeker's reflexes and he doesn't let go of his prey that easily. He jumps up, and using his grip on the shirt, pulls Harry back and past him, slinging him face first into the dungeon wall. As Harry's temple makes contact with the stone, stars flash behind his eyes and he is momentarily dazed. But that is all the time Draco needs to pull Harry's shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders and twist it tightly around his wrists, pinning them behind his back. Draco has bested him again, and he presses the entire weight of his body into Harry's form trapping him against the wall, squeezing the breath out of his lungs and pulling on the shirt-c**-bonds until his shoulder muscles twinge.

Harry's resistance is useless, and the position Draco has him in is inescapable. He knows that Draco has won again, won the right to use him, to ******** him, to own him, and he blushes in shame at the surge of arousal the thought brings him. He thinks this was inevitable, that coming to Draco's room to finish the argument started outside the Great Hall that afternoon could have only ended this way, and he realizes that a small part of him wanted it to end this way.

With a single deft movement, Draco opens Harry's flies and pulls his trousers and pants down to tangle around his knees, further trapping him against the wall. There was blood dripping from Draco’s cheek, Harry knows because his fist was the one that split open that perfect face, and he can feel his hair dragging, sticking to it as Draco leans into him. His back burns at the touch of Draco's sweat slick chest and Harry takes a second to dazedly wonder when Draco removed his shirt.

Those fingers that just minutes ago were so punishing make their way to Harry's lips and into Harry's mouth so he has no choice but to suck on them. And it ******** stings for him to do it but he does anyway, moaning as he forces his tongue around and between them. Then Draco pulls his fingers out roughly, and Harry follows them for a second, his mouth open and wanting, before remembering he is not supposed to be enjoying this. He can see the pink tinge of blood from his split lip on Draco's fingers even in the dark of the dungeon.

Draco's shoulders pin his own into the wall, holding him in place as Draco’s hand slides down his back. He knows Draco is biting his lip, and Harry wants more than anything for it to be his teeth on that perfect mouth. Harry is practically shivering with the fear and the anticipation because he wants it, but he shouldn't, and it is all so good he can't stand it. And he wants to turn his head away so Draco can't see his face, because he’ll know, but pinned against the wall all he can do is close his eyes and press his cheek to the sharp edges beneath it.

Draco has his wrists pinned with one hand at the small of his back now, and he slips his long fingers slick with Harry’s blood and spit slowly down Harry's crack, teasing him mercilessly and just barely scratching the tender skin with sharp nails. His mouth is right at Harry's ear, so Harry can hear his breathing, and just as his fingers push in Draco bites down right there on that spot under his ear that Draco knows makes him want to scream.

And Harry just mewls, because he loves the pleasurepain even though he doesn't want to admit to it. He can feel the rough fabric over Draco's c**k pressing against his bare arse, just waiting to rip him apart, and Draco is whispering filthy things in his ear as those fingers thrust in and out. Draco steps back, and Harry nearly whimpers at the loss, but then he leans back again, and with his trousers now around his ankles Harry can finally feel the brand of Draco's bare c**k.

It burns and it tears, but Harry loves it, loves all of it. The sting, the fullness, the pressure of Draco's c**k against his backside and the press of his body into the rough wall. And as Draco gives a hard thrust of his fingers in, Harry's cheek scrapes against the stone and it only makes him moan louder with the tingling pain sogood overloading his senses.

It’s so cold, the dungeon wall, compared to the burning heat of Draco's body at his back, and that hand, oh god that hand that grips his hip and pushes him into the wall, his own c**k pinned there between himself and the sharp stone that shouldn’t hurt so good, and Draco is pushing into him finally, finally.

Harry bites down on his lip to hold back his moans, and it reopens the cut and the tang of coppery blood fills his mouth. As Draco bites sharp at his neck and sucks his skin right off his shoulders he thinks that surely he's going to die, that this much pain and this much pleasure is not possible to live through.

He's rocking back against Draco now, and he doesn't care about the fact that everytime he moves forward his chest and neck and face scrape painfully against the stone, and he knows his shoulder is going to be bruised in the morning, and he'll wear that mark for as long as it lasts. He'll prod it, push into it with his fingers, to feel the pain and remember how Draco is moving inside him like he doesn't care what Harry feels or thinks or even if he's still alive.

And as Draco's thrusts become faster and erratic, Harry meets his hips at every stroke, and he leans and twists his head painfully around to meet Draco's mouth where it is still whispering filthy dirty violent words into his ear, and the kiss is hot and biting and he gives the blood from his lip for Draco to take and swallow like he has taken Harry's very soul.

The hand twisting the shirt about his wrists lets go suddenly, and nails scratch fire into his skin as it moves around to grip his hip, pulling it back, before making it's way to wrap cruel fingers around Harry's c**k. The thing that is too violent to be called a kiss continues despite Harry's need to breathe, and the other hand is digging into his hip so hard he swears the marks will scar forever.

Harry is submitting completely.

Draco's fingers on his c**k are burning like the fires of hell itself, and his every thrust is hitting a place so deep inside that Harry thinks he will be split in two at any moment. The hand on his c**k twists and pulls and slides and a thumb flicks deceptively gentle over the tip, and each thrust of Draco's hips slides him against the stone, and he can feel the blood dripping down his cheek now. Draco is whispering something against his lips but he can't make out the words over the roaring in his ears that's moving through his body as he goes taut and tight and clenching.

And as Harry goes limp in the aftermath of his orgasm, Draco thrusts harshly once, twice more, and with a final, sharp bite to the top of his spine, Harry feels Draco pulse so ******** deep inside him, going taut against his back.

All of a sudden the hands aren't cruel as they pull the ruined shirt from around his unfeeling hands, and warm arms wrap around his hips as Draco sags against him, forehead resting on the back of his neck, breath hot and quick between his shoulders. He's still pressed against the stone, but his own arms are finally free and he's almost startled to find them sliding over Draco's on his waist.

Without his brain's permission, Harry finds himself turning in Draco's arms and then his lips press warm and wet against Draco's panting mouth. With gentle nips and licks, Draco lets Harry take him in that kiss and Harry is pulling the hands at his waist around to circle him completely.

They don't speak, they never do other than the harsh words that escape during it all, the whole ******** process, but their eyes meet for a split second and Harry knows, knows that he is Draco's, that he'll always be Draco's, and the knowledge soothes his screaming muscles just as much as Draco's tongue does his stinging lip.

Draco releases him and makes his way to the bed, beckoning Harry with those fingers to join him, and Harry does. He finds he fits perfectly in the curve of Draco's arm, just as he fits perfectly in the path of his fist. They sleep, dreamless.