Chapter Seventeen of 'Jonquils and Lightning'- A Visit to the Bedroom

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Sixteen.

Title: Jonquils and Lightning (17/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, a few one-sided het pairings and canon het pairings
Content Notes: Angst, blood, dubious consent, dimension travel, OC’s
Rating: R
Summary: Harry Potter found peace after the war in another world where a large number of Potters live. He makes his living as an animal healer in Godric’s Hollow, surrounded by family and away from all wars. But his peace shatters with the arrival of a Tom Riddle from another dimension, who seeks a Potter who can be his foretold weapon in his own war.
Author’s Notes: At the moment, I can’t say how long this story will be.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Seventeen—A Visit to the Bedroom

Harry stepped back through his portal and looked around, conjuring a flame on his palm as he watched the shadows on the hills. It appeared to be an hour after dawn, which didn’t surprise him, even though he had only spent a few hours with Ron and Hermione in his first world. Time just didn’t flow at the same pace in both places.

He moved forwards, and touched the edge of an alarm ward with his knee. The tinkle as of a bell was barely audible to him, but it would ring loudly in the ears of whoever had set it.

Harry carefully turned, bracing himself for Albus to come hunting for him. He couldn’t conceive who else would have set up such a thing.

But when the sharp crack of Apparition sounded across the hills, it was Tom who appeared. He was rubbing sleep out of his eyes with one hand. He stepped towards Harry and held his hand out, beaming at him with his head half-tilted. That smile made Harry’s breathing quicken.

Tom seemed to sense the change. “You made some kind of decision.” His voice was neutral.

Harry nodded. “My friend I went to talk to—she told me things I already knew. But I had to have someone who was outside the situation tell me the truth before I was ready to accept it.” He swallowed and moved forwards until his forehead was leaning against Tom’s. “She said that I can’t make both you and Jonquil happy. Even if I tried to rip myself apart to do it, it wouldn’t work.”

“So your decision is?”

“That I want to make myself happy. And that means being with you, Tom.”

Harry thought he would follow up those whispered words with a kiss, and it would be romantic. But he didn’t get the chance. Tom kissed him first, hungrily, fiercely, his hands gripping the sides of Harry’s cheeks like a hawk’s talons. Then he moved back and tugged insistently on Harry’s hand, gesturing with his head towards Godric’s Hollow.

“Come,” he breathed. “Now.”

“But I’m not going to run away,” Harry said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I choose you, so that means—”

Tom Apparated them both while he was still trying to argue. Harry stumbled as he found himself in the middle of his bedroom, anti-Apparition wards well and truly torn, with Tom all but vibrating in his arms with impatience. Harry stumbled again as Tom forced him back onto the bed.

“I know you’re not going to run away,” Tom said, with an impatient shake of his head that disordered his hair even more than it already was. “But I’ve been waiting for this moment for days now, while half-convinced that it would never come. You don’t know how hungry I’ve been, Harry.”

Harry reached up and traced his fingers along the line of Tom’s cheekbone, up to his eyes. Tom closed them and stood there as if savoring every moment of the gentle touch.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Harry breathed. “I can see it in the way you look at me.”

And no one had ever really looked at him that way before. So many people in his first world had been blinded by the thought of being with the Chosen One; they hadn’t noticed him, or his disgust for that title. And Ginny had been more sincere, but even then, part of her would always see the boy hero who had come to rescue her in the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom looked and just saw him. Powerful magic and face that Harry thought was average and faded scar and all. And wanted him.

Harry lifted his head to be kissed, and cast away all the defenses that would have made him an innocent victim. Easy to claim that, boring to be it. He wanted Tom back.

*

Tom had dreamed of Harry’s surrender. Now he had it—

And it was setting him afire.

For the first time in his life, Tom’s hands were clumsy as he undressed a lover. But Harry didn’t make the mocking noises that so many other people would have made. His eyes were bright and soft, and so was his smile. He helped Tom undress him, and then got involved in all the clasps that did up Tom’s clothing. Tom shed them without taking his eyes off Harry, which didn’t hasten the process.

“God, look at you,” Tom purred, as he had the time to take in Harry’s skin. Despite his devouring, flaming famine, he still looked more than he had the first time he and Harry had spent in bed together. “That scar…” He reached out and traced one that wound about Harry’s ribs, up to finish in a squirming splash on his side.

“I know. I have a lot of them.”

Harry’s voice was neutral, but Tom still knew the undertones of it. He kissed Harry, and kept on kissing him until Harry’s eyes were glassy and crossed and his breath was gone.

“You misunderstand me,” Tom told him, voice still soft, still reaching out and yearning. “You don’t need to worry about me finding them ugly. They’re not ugly, Harry. I admire them so much.” He reached out and trailed his fingers over the scar, and Harry spasmed and his cock lifted. He stared at Tom in wonder.

“I—didn’t know that would happen.”

“Because not even you touch yourself here, do you?” Tom kept his voice low, though it wasn’t easy with his own cock trembling between his legs and the wonder cascading through him. “Let me be the first to show you.”

Harry looked at him and then let his eyes flutter shut again when Tom trailed his fingers up the scar. “I didn’t know it had any—I could feel any—”

Tom kissed him, muffling his moan, and finally kicked away the last of his clothes and lay down naked on top of Harry. Harry kissed him back, and then reached up and waved his fingers as if he was gesturing to an audience. Tom looked warily at the door, then back again in time to see Harry’s fingers gleaming brightly.

“Move a little,” Harry breathed to him, “so I can reach my arse.”

Tom actually didn’t move for a moment, because he was so stunned. Then he cleared his throat and said, “We don’t have to—”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I find I rather want to.”

And Tom had been wrong, again. Harry’s surrender was nothing compared to the sheer flame burning in his eyes.

Tom gave up, and let himself be burned.

*

Harry had, in fact, never done this before. But he trusted his own magic, and he trusted the way Tom kept staring at him as if Harry was made of pure gold.

Tom wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt him.

Harry wriggled around and stretched and lifted his legs until he was able to slide his fingers into his arse. He grunted. He’d asked his magic for oil that would make him relax as well as lubricate him, and it seemed that was what he was getting.

“God.” Tom’s voice was thick as Harry’s pleasure.

Harry grinned at him and then pressed in further. He gasped in spite of himself when he found what he supposed was his prostate. He ended up grinding his arse into the bed and had to lift his hips again and control his breathing so he could keep going. When he spread his fingers apart, Tom made another thick noise and scrambled down the bed to be beside him.

“As wonderful as watching you do this is, I want to help,” he said, and he grabbed hold of Harry’s hand, moved it, and then inserted his own fingers.

Harry let out a startled cry in response. His hips started rocking and he couldn’t stop. He managed to turn so that he was looking up at Tom and drowning in the thick grey of his eyes, which seemed to spread wider and wider until it ate almost everything else.

Like restraint and common sense, Harry thought as he felt Tom trying to line his cock up in the right position.

“Not—yet,” Harry said, and held out his hand and conjured some more oil. He turned his hand, and Tom got the idea and smeared his own cock. He never looked up from Harry’s arse, which was entertaining by itself. Harry stretched out his legs and managed to hook his ankles around Tom’s, although then Tom shifted and he promptly lost the grip.

“You can look at my eyes, too,” Harry said, and Tom flushed and snapped his up.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said in a hurried whisper, and turned back to staring at Harry’s entrance. Harry decided he felt sufficiently stretched, and it looked like Tom might come in a second if he kept stroking himself, and where was the fun in that? He stretched his back, making Tom look him in the face again.

“I’m ready,” he said, and spread his legs wide enough that his hips ached a little, just in case Tom hadn’t got the idea yet.

*

This wasn’t surrender, Tom understood then, as he knelt dazed in the middle of Harry’s bed and stared down at his lubed arse and glittering eyes and encouraging smile. This was a gift.

He leaned over and kissed Harry for it, and then he entered him, as slow as slow.

Harry gasped the way Tom had thought he would, and leaned back, tilting his hips up more. A second later, he waved a hand and muttered something, and a Summoned pillow soared towards him. Harry managed to wedge it more or less underneath him so that his hips jutted up to an angle that might be better.

Tom, meanwhile, was clenching his teeth on his tongue. The casual display of Harry’s wandless magic was going to make him come too early unless he concentrated.

“Tom?”

“Working on holding back,” Tom said with a warning hiss as he felt Harry edge himself a little closer.

“Oh,” Harry said, and paused for a second, but only until he could work himself further onto the pillow. Then he shoved his arse down, and Tom was part of the way inside Harry before he realized it.

Tom gasped, but this time, he was moving before he thought, thrusting in and thrusting out. Harry reached up and gripped his shoulders hard enough to make bruises blossom all over Tom’s fair skin. But it didn’t matter, not when Tom was riding him, grabbing Harry’s legs, moving, fucking him.

“Yeah,” Harry moaned, his eyes drooping shut, and then he went on repeating that one word in what sounded like a mindless mantra, his hips moving at the same time.

Tom just stared and stared. He had planned all sorts of romantic words to say now. He would impress Harry with how calm and collected he was. But he wasn’t calm and collected, and he couldn’t have completed a sentence for a thousand Galleons. His attention was rooted on Harry, the way his cock was rooted inside him, and nothing was ever going to be better than the tightness squeezing him.

Except knowing that Harry was the one who had given it to him.

Tom reached out and touched Harry’s cock, little tight teasing touches that made Harry tense up at once. Tom hissed as that translated to more warmth around him, and he cupped his hand and stroked once.

Harry came at once, with a grunt of completion, and Tom couldn’t hold back. He came while feeling the warmth thrill all through him and his own helpless thrusts driving himself further into Harry. He came watching Harry’s face twist in pleasure and then relaxation as he opened his eyes and smiled up at Tom.

It was the smile that made the aftermath of Tom’s orgasm more than sleepy heat. He kissed Harry frantically, gripping him and rolling him over while Tom was still inside him. There was a trembling arse around him and a trickle of wetness alongside his cock that he would be disgusted by in a little while.

But for now, there was only Harry’s mouth and eyes and hands.

*

Harry stirred what was probably late that afternoon when he heard other people moving around the house. Dorea would be wondering why they hadn’t come down for breakfast, he thought drowsily. Or at least why Tom hadn’t. She might not know Harry was back yet.

Harry thought he’d awakened before Tom, but then he sensed the soft, steady motion of a hand in his hair. He looked up at Tom and managed a smile that felt as drowsy as his head. “Good afternoon. Evening. Whatever it currently is.”

“Afternoon,” Tom said, his eyes enormous as he bent over Harry. Harry shivered a little. He’d thought Tom had looked possessive before when he saw Harry’s magic in action and wanted it for himself, but it was nothing to now. Tom’s fingers wound tighter in his hair, and he kissed Harry while holding him imprisoned so firmly that he couldn’t move.

“I don’t ever want someone else to see you like this,” Tom whispered as he relaxed his hold. “Even if you stay here and we have to visit back and forth through my portal. You’re mine.”

Harry shivered and said nothing. Part of him was a little angry, considering that for all Tom knew they might have an argument tomorrow and Tom would end up going back through his portal alone and Harry would spend the rest of his life without him. But the rest of him...

He hadn’t minded the general concept of people interested in holding him and holding onto him. He’d only minded the concept of the wrong reasons for it. Someone who wanted him as a weapon or a tool or a pawn was right out.

But Tom’s hands were still stroking his hair as if Harry’s scalp held the secrets of the universe. That kind of possessiveness, he didn’t mind.

“What are we going to tell Jonquil?” he murmured with his eyes closed. He turned so his head was more fully in Tom’s lap. He knew he could go right back to sleep if he didn’t watch himself.

It was part of the reason he’d asked the question. Tom’s leg tensed underneath him, and he hissed, “That doesn’t matter. If you still think that you’re going to put her feelings above mine and yours when we’ve done this—”

“Calm down, Tom.” Harry reached out and clasped Tom’s wrist without opening his eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that I’m not going to hide this, so we’ll tell her, because the last thing she knew, I was promising to back off and not sleep with you again.”

“Well, after the confrontation I had with her yesterday, she won’t be expecting sweetness and light from me.”

Harry turned his head. “What did you do?”

“You always assume I’m at fault,” said Tom, and he managed to sound exactly as bitter as Harry would expect. “You never once put me above your cousin, even when she—”

Harry reached out, caught Tom’s chin, and kissed him firmly enough that Tom didn’t even stutter when Harry let him go. “I’m putting you above her because you’re my—lover now,” Harry said firmly. He wasn’t sure if “boyfriend” or “partner” could apply. “But you’re also more intelligent and calmer than she is, Tom. So I know you could have avoided upsetting her if you wanted to. What did you say?”

Tom stared at him. Harry reached up and deliberately tweaked his nose.

Tom drew his head back with a hiss of disgust, shook it, and finally said, “All right, Harry. I told her that I couldn’t give her what she wanted. That I found her ambition misdirected and wandered why she wanted to join a cause she knew nothing about in a world she knew nothing about. I was harsher than I could have been. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” Harry said, and tilted his head back as Tom began to kiss down his throat. The hand in his hair was still keeping him from moving much. He sighed when Tom slid his hand up Harry’s chest. “We should get out of bed and go tell them something.”

“Why? I want to make love to you again.”

Harry sighed again, because part of him wanted that, too, and didn’t want the sharp looks he knew would be on Dorea’s and Celandine’s faces. But— “We have to get moving.”

“I can’t hold you here,” Tom said, and tugged on his hair as if to disprove the point. “I can only ask. Please stay here in the bed and let me make love to you again.” The hand on Harry’s best fell up and down as if with a sigh, and then he grabbed and tweaked Harry’s nipples.

Harry caught his breath and glanced at Tom’s face as best he could when he was upside-down. Tom was flushed with passion, his breath quickening as though he’d been running a race, and then he bent and kissed Harry again.

They have to already know something is different than they thought it was. And Jonquil won’t be any angrier about another hour’s delay than she already is.

His mouth full of warmth and sweetness, Harry gave in, and opened his legs for Tom.