“Suck my cock.”
“Bit more tongue… now open up for me - ahhh - that's perfect.”
Harry lay in bed, one hand wrapped tightly around his throbbing prick, the other pumping two fingers rhythmically in and out of his tight arse. Even the thought of those instructions had his cock leaking precome onto his stomach, his hole clenching reflexively around his fingers.
There was nothing quite like the freedom of being told exactly what to do.
It made no sense, really. Except it made perfect sense to him.
For years Harry was tasked with the insurmountable task of making decisions that would impact the entire future of the Wizarding World, his aching body collapsing under the expectations of others. People were depending on him to make decisions that no individual so young should ever have to make. His bones were constantly threatening to break, his mind overrun with the responsibilities he was burdened with from the day he was born.
A Prophecy had determined his future as a leader. A future of being looked to whenever a decision was to be made. A future of being in charge.
Which is precisely why Harry craved nothing of the sort when it came to sex.
Harry wanted to be told exactly what to do and when and where and how. He wanted to know each step along the way, to follow each instruction without question, to be at the mercy of someone else's decision making.
He wanted the pure freedom to simply feel. To take in the experience through each of his senses in turn. To drown in the sensations without a care in the world.
Harry wanted nothing more than to listen, obey, and feel.
“Strip for me.”
“Move a bit slower - that's it.”
Whenever Harry dropped into subspace, it was as if he was suspended underwater, his mind hardly processing anything beyond the commands he was carrying out. He felt cocooned, safe, his body light in a way it had never felt before.
As Harry brought himself off, he couldn’t help but think of a certain pair of piercing blue eyes and a shock of expertly-styled blond hair. Harry couldn’t help but imagine Draco Malfoy standing above him, dressed in an expensive Muggle suit, his shirt unbuttoned just enough so that Harry could catch a glimpse of his prominent collarbones and long neck. Harry thought of Draco standing over him with a look of superiority in his gaze as Harry gave up the reigns and fell into Draco’s mercy.
“Fuck,” Harry moaned, his fingers curling inside of him on instinct, pressing perfectly against his prostate and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body.
Harry arched his back as he milked his own prostate, the pleasure akin to a thousand orgasms happening simultaneously, his body vibrating from the intensity.
His eyes flew open as a loud Crack! brought him out of his reverie.
As Harry turned his head, he noticed a man now standing in the corner of his room. A man who he had just been fantasizing about. A man who was now walking towards him with the same hungry superiority in his eyes and a purpose in his stride.
Harry came seconds later, his cock twitching out ribbons of come onto his chest as Draco stood over him, a smirk on his thin lips.
The last thing Harry remembered before he fell asleep was a pair of icy blue eyes and the soft whisper of "Good boy."