Something Wicked
by Twinkledru J.

Lucius Malfoy, of course, didn't want his son associating with trash like Ethan Rayne.

But the way Draco saw it, Ethan was more of a Death Eater than the true Death Eaters were. The man really didn't fuck around with any subservience nonsense, and let's face it, that's what the Death Eaters were really about in the end -- subservience to Voldemort.

Bloody politics. It was silly, more than anything else.

Or so he had been convinced by Ethan. Well, more specifically, by Ethan's tongue, because any man who could make him feel like an enormous pile of Jelly-Legs Jinxes simply by sucking on his earlobe had to have the right idea.

Meanwhile, Draco had grown more and more discontent with Dark Revels, where you had a bunch of pathetic old wizards and witches raping and pillaging and claiming such a dedication to their own pleasures, when really they were all just a bunch of scared children hoping that they would stay in Daddy's good favor long enough to get their rocks off.

Rape, for instance, isn't part of chaos magick. It was about your own pleasure, yes, but, Ethan had explained, guiding Draco's head down until he got the idea and went to work on Ethan's cock, it was also about the pleasure of everyone involved, because that made it so much more fun for everyone...yourself included.

It's all selfishly motivated, of course. But, Ethan taught him, the beauty of chaos is that everyone realizes that. There's none of this pretending that it's for a greater cause or anything, you just admit it and enjoy it.


He was drying off alone in the spacious Prefect's bathroom in early December when he felt an invisible force grab the towel out of his hands. Draco gasped and lunged for his wand, but slipped on the wet stone floor to find himself caught in someone's arms.

"Well, now," said a familiar voice, the someone's breath hot on his throat as he was lifted up, still dripping, in their arms, "this is disappointing. It would be so much more interesting to have done this while someone else was in that Muggle girl, the Gryffindor prefect...I'd love to see you try to explain to her why you were screaming."

"Ethan?" Draco asked, heartbeat slowing slightly, as he peered around blindly for the source of the voice.

"Don't bother looking," Ethan said, clearly amused. "It's a fascinating little invisibility charm I dug up...a cloak, after all, would render it difficult for me to do what I'm planning to."

"And what would that be?" Draco asked, shivering partly due to the cold air on his wet skin and partly due to the fact that Ethan had just nipped at his slick throat.

"Let's just say," Ethan said cheerfully, "that I certainly hope you don't have to be anywhere soon, because you're going to have to bathe again after we're through."

"Sounds like -- nagh," Draco gasped as the invisible mouth trailed up his throat, teeth finally closing on his earlobe and pulling just the tiniest bit, just enough to make him entirely forget what he'd been about to say, though he was sure it was something quite witty.

Ethan set him down carefully and he wobbled a little, collapsed against Ethan with a tiny gasp.

"Of course," said Ethan, sounding more collected and calm than Draco could ever concieve of being again, "I can hope that your voice will carry. Because," he growled before he buried his hand in Draco's still-dripping hair and pulled him in for a hard kiss, "I promise you, those utterly delectable lips of yours will be cracked from screaming by the time I've finished with you."

"Just try," Draco finally panted before he sucked on Ethan's lower lip, smiling at the gratifying shiver that ran through his invisible partner. "Please."

Warm, warm hands ran down Draco's back. "Oh, I love it when you beg," Ethan murmured.

And then Draco couldn't say anything witty, couldn't say anything at all, actually because oh gods Ethan's hands felt good through the cold air. Ethan's nails dragging along his throat, not digging in but scraping and doing more to create an itch than to ease it, and there were his teeth again, nipping behind Draco's earlobe and Draco just hissed, sucked air in and hissed like the Slytherin he's so damn proud to be.

It was surreal, invisible hands working his body so perfectly and an invisible mouth tasting him everywhere, tasting him and sucking and teeth scraping along his skin, which felt incredibly tight on his body

tight and sparkling and sparks sliding hot itchy trails down his skin

Draco began to fall, felt his knees giving out, and heard Ethan laugh as he caught him and half-carried him the couple of feet it took to get to the wall. "You realize, of course, that you're going to have to turn around before long," Ethan muttered, and Draco could hear the smirk in his sweet rough voice.

And whatever Draco might possibly have said he forgot, preferring only to moan as his hips thrust involuntarily forward when Ethan's hot hot fingers finally left their sparking burning trails along his dick, up and down and oh by Inanna's fucking hooks he was trailing his nails ever so lightly along Draco's length and Draco growled -- and there was a little bit of moaning in there but it wasn't a scream.

There was Ethan's mouth again, and he sucked at Draco's throat and then his hot breath on Draco's ears sent shudders down Draco's back

He was saying something, he realized distantly, Ethan was saying something to him and Draco could feel the wicked smile on his neck. Finally his neural processors slid it together


this time

And then the hands were gone, and Draco actually whimpered in that brief instant before Ethan pinned his arms behind his back and pushed him so that he leaned on the wall, the steam-slick stone chilling his chest.

"This time," Ethan whispered, "you're going to scream."

One of Ethan's hands, of course, was more than sufficient to hold Draco's bony wrists in place, they both knew that, but a couple seconds later Draco felt a thin silk something tighten around them instead, and then Ethan ran a fingernail down his spine and in his mind's eye it was a trail of bright bright cold bright blue, blue fire down his back and ending just a few frustrating centimeters, millimeters from his ass.

"No gag?" he managed to pant.

"What," Ethan muttered, fingers sliding down Draco's newly-slick stomach, "did I just say? do look lovely in them... but no," he said, as though having just made up his mind, hand tracing along Draco's cock again, "I promised you you were going to scream, and that is a promise that I'm more than happy to keep."

He kept it up, Draco can't imagine how long it'd been going on until every fucking nerve is finally on fire, all over his body. He was trembling and the sweat kept his hair wet and he felt like his knees would give in any second and he was groaning more and more when finally he felt something behind him.

That heat, that heat that can only mean Ethan's so close to entering him at last, just an entire fucking chasm of a tiny little space between them, and Ethan's hand buried itself in Draco's matted hair...

"Please," Draco whisper-groaned and Ethan kissed him before his burning scorching lips trailed along and finally he bit the back of Draco's neck hard.

"Please," Draco said louder, straining to say anything at all and finally forcing out another, whimpered "please".

"I love it when you beg," Ethan growled, vicious velvet voice hot on Draco's ear as Ethan finally slammed into him and

and and

Draco screamed.


Draco mentions it once to Father, the idea that maybe it's stupid to pretend he's actually in it for Voldemort's gain when everyone, including Voldemort, knows he's just hoping for a bit of the glory.

Well, perhaps "mentions" isn't really the best way to put it. Saying that he mentioned it implies that it was a civil intellectual discussion when actually Father had been gloating and Draco muttered something and Father growls that that better not have been what it sounded like and Draco doesn't look up but smirks and continues. He chooses his words carefully, because he wants them vulgar enough to express his full disgust with Father and the Death Eaters but he really doesn't want to waste a lot of breath on it.

Mother slaps him. Lucius stands, eyes flashing, and the next forty minutes are lost in a haze of pain as Father alternately curses him and settles for a good old-fashioned round of beating his son to a bloody pulp.

He's crying by the time it's over, of course. One can hardly help it against Cruciatus and fists, but nonetheless Father always manages to act so ashamed of his son when tears of pain escape Draco's eyes. As if he can control his body's reaction to the pain.

Father takes great pride in their loyalty to Voldemort. It's pathetic, really, Draco thinks much more coolly than he looks. He's pulling himself to his feet after Father's stormed out, trying to stop his nose from bleeding as Mother asks him why he can't just let things be, why does he have to provoke them, they don't like doing this after all, and Draco drags himself out and up to his private room without so much as glaring at her.

Up in his room, he fixes himself up quite well. The sweat has dried and left him shivering (this wasn't helped by the fact that he vomited after making it back upstairs), but rather than starting a fire, he defiantly pulls on a pair of tight dragonhide pants and boots. After splashing a little water on his face, he pulls on a black shirt (which, of course, he leaves open) and, after shoving his wand into his pocket, pulls his favorite black cloak around his shoulders.

He strides out of the Mansion just as coolly as you please and the icy night air feels lovely on his skin, but he finally buttons up his shirt (but not the collar, of course) after he leaves the grounds and Disapparates after a simple spell that will take him to where he wants to be.

Which, of course, is wherever Ethan is.

He spent the rest of the Christmas holiday with Ethan in Hogsmeade. To be fair, there are only two more days left in the holiday, but it's still saying something. He's probably missed at home, but can't really bring himself to give a damn for more than the time it takes for Ethan to...distract him.

It's a nice way to spend the break...

Making each other scream.


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