Oblivious to the Obvious (Un-Betaed)
Rated:NC-17
Pairings: LVHP/TMHP
Warnings: EXTREME MAN SEX!!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!!
Disclaimer: Aside for Deayva, my OC, I don't own anything that you might recognize and pay money for. If I did, I'd be rich. But I'm not.
Note: This is kind of a random little thought that I had. Don't hate me. I'm still working on my other ideas, I'm just kind of at a road block. Forgive any grammatical errors. I'm not perfect ya know. And if any other the names are miss spelled of information is wrong, please alert me and I will fix. Thank you!
He couldn't look away.
There were so many others around him, in various states of dress and undress, all dancing rather suggestively,
But Tom just couldn't look away.
The way his pale body moved and swayed with the heavy beats against the cold metal poll (he fucking hated that poll). The way the sweat clung desperately to his sweet form, creating a hypnotizing sheen over the already tantalizingly smooth skin. The way his silky black triangular ears would twitch with his silky black tail at just the right times. The way the scarce amount of cloths would be stripped; piece by agonizing piece till all that was left was a pair of skin tight black shorts and a small black collar. The way his eyes were closed and his mouth was open in a silent sound of bliss made him utterly delicious. Even the way he breathed, unheard over the masses of bodies between them and the loud background music, seemed somehow to make Tom's pants even more uncomfortable than they already were.
He couldn't bring himself to look away.
The only thing he could think of was how that delicate body would look underneath him, panting and moaning out his name as he familiarized himself with every curve and every sweet spot and how the younger would feel, warm and tight around his length, screaming out in pleasure with every single movement of his body.
If he could just…
"My lord?"
…
Damn it.
Damn it all to hell and back.
"What do you want Lucius?" he said. Even over the music, he could hear and be heard clearly, thanks to the charms placed over the balcony. He sighed, turning his eyes away from the demonically sinful angel on the dance floor below. He inwardly smirked when he saw the blonde shiver with fear. Serves the prat right.
"Um…M-my lord, Cornelius Fudge is here." Tom violently squelched his urge to roll his eyes and stood, making sure that none of his earlierexcitement was left.
"Ah! Mr. Fudge! How wonderful to see you again!" he said, putting on a fake smile and held out his hand, again willing himself not to take away said hand and smacking the pudgy man with it, then desensitizing it with acid.
"It is an honor Lord Voldemort." Fudge bowed and gestured to the seats.
"I trust that everything was to your liking?" Tom smiled (fake). He had been helping Fudge with a bit of dirty work to ensure the man's standings in the up coming elections. Of course, Tom Marvolo Riddle was flawless, so none of the dirt ever got traced back to his doorsteps. He was the perfect tactician and the perfect representative. Not only was he smart, but he was quick and sexy to boot. The man could fool the Sphinx into eating its own tail if he had to, and he was charming in public, and in private. In other words,
Number one guy from hell.
He could destroy a high standing company in a week and he could bring a country to its knees. How the hell else do you run a small time slave trade and teach defense against dark arts in a school all while seducing wives and blackmailing politicians all in the time span of about 24 hours (he's done it before on many occasions). With his silky black hair that fell to his shoulder in waves, his sinfully crimson eyes, his amazing anatomy (as in god was very generous), he could seduce himself a throne (he tried, but then he got a bit bored, so he left that plan…a year later, the country became a barbaric wasteland).
And, of course, that's why he was here.
"Yes! Yes! My ratings are better than ever! You truly are the greatest Lord Voldemort…however…" Tom, who had let his eyes wander back to the wiggling piece of eye candy on the platform, turned back to the man before him.
"Oh? What seems to be the problem?" Tom smiled casually, betraying his wishes to strangle the fatty.
"Your fee seems a bit outrageous don't you think? I mean for a bit of sabotage, 5000 galleon?" So that was the bugger's idea. He wanted to wager. He wanted to show that he had some form of power against that all feared and none opposed.
That bloody git.
Well.
This time,
He didn't hold himself back all that much.
With a smile and a graceful flick of his wrist the metal floor underneath Fudge form a spire that flew upwards…
…right between his legs…
Now if it were a bit to the left, he would be missing a leg and if it was a tad closer to him, he'd be dead.
To say that the fatty was scared was a bit of an understatement.
"My fees are never negotiable. It is either you pay me in full, so you turn out like dear old Padoria." Tom's usual smiling façade was completely washed away, leaving only a dangerously handsome face with a pair of red eyes that could, and have, killed.
"W-who's P-pa-padoria?" The fat man stuttered out. Tom fell silent for a second before his deceptively charming smile came back in full bloom.
"Exactly." With anther flick of his wrist, the metal spire shrunk back down to the ground and he could practically feel the relieved sigh coming from Fudge.
…
Eww.
"I-I apologize for any disrespect sir." The man stuttered as he cautiously removed himself from the chair, eyeing it warily as if it would sprout teeth and chew off his limbs at any given moment, which, if Tom willed, it would. But he figured the man was in enough trauma for one day. With a wave of his hand, the man was sent scurrying down the stairs of the balcony, through the swarms of people and out the door (in a guise of course).
With a sigh, Tom leaned back in the red suede chair and let his eyes wander back to the dance floor below, only to find that his one little slice of heaven was out of sight. A scowl made itself apparent.
"Lucius." He called. The blonde man was faithfully at his side in a breath.
"Yes my lord?" the man bowed.
"Bring me Deayva ((Dee-ay-va)). I wish to speak with her." The man bowed again and melded back into the shadows to find the club's owner.
The club was a very simple, yet wildly elegant night club. It was where all assassinations, conspiracies, coups, and drug deals were planned. It was very roomy, thought outside it looked like nothing more than a small, uninviting coffee shop. It was charmed, however, so that no one who didn't already know of it would find it. Inside, there were two levels. One level was the dance floor level. It contained, obviously, the dance floor, which was lit up from the bottom. The lights periodically changed colors and supplied much of the scarce light in the building. On the dance floor were four small raised polled platforms on which the poll dancers would dance (Tom's eyes had been glued to the body on the nearest poll). On the far side of the first level, farthest from the entrance, was a bar that was also lit from the inside by a bluish tinted light. On either of the club, behind the tables and chairs, were dozens small, hidden rooms that can only be seen an accessed if you were holding the key to the corresponding room. Those were sound proof and spelled rooms where the plans were made along with sex and any other thing people felt like doing in private.
From either side of the bar were two curves staircases that led to the second level, which consisted of a balcony that overlooked the dance floor. There were a multitude of small, self lit tables on the edge of the balcony, as well as many booths that were set further back, away from the edge. All in all, it was a very simple club in design, but somehow it attracted many guests.
"What's up Tommy?" Tom visibly twitched at the nickname and at the woman who said it. The woman, Deayva Thornbecket, looked about 15, but that was just when she was turned.
She's 1784.
Deayva was the owner of this club, known as NitenGayl, as well as many other clubs and bars, so she always knew what went on in the underground world. The vamp had long black hair (long as in knee caps long) that was currently up in a high ponytail at the crown of her head. Her eyes were dark blue, almost black, and the angrier she got, the lighter her eyes got (one time, they turn light blue, and a city was nearly demolished…pray to never see them when they're white). She had an average body, with an average height and less then average features (a little flat chested), but she never minded about that. All the better for fighting with, she said. Can't have them jiggling around all the time.
Of course, being a 1784 year old vampire that looked 15 had its upsides. For one, it made her highly inconspicuous and always underestimated, and she always got away with everything (everything). She loved it when she went into a fight against an overly confident 235 pound man and sent him away in tears with a mere glance.
And of course, she was the only one who would ever call the infamous Lord Voldemort by his muggle name…and got away with it.
"Stop calling me that."
"Grow a dick and I might." The vamp unlatched herself from Tom's neck (where she was clinging just a second ago) and plopped herself in the seat across from him, to used to the damages he inflicted on her furniture when he was there to care about the gaping hole in the cushion. She could get that fixed later.
Tom growled.
Deayva chuckled.
"So. What was it that you wanted to see me about oh 'Great Lord of Darkness'?" Deayva said in a mocking tone.
"It's 'Great Master of Darkness' thank you very much!" Tom shot back, crossing his arms in a superior manner. "And I was wondering about one of your…exquisite dancers." Deayva's eyebrows rose up on her smooth forehead.
"Oh? You've taken a liking? And here I thought you were asexual save for those who had you any benefit." The vamp casually crossed her legs and lean back, throwing both her arms behind the back of the seat with a smirk.
"This one does have a benefit." Again Dea's eyebrows went up. "Even I need to relieve some sexual tension every now and then, and I'm afraid the overdone concubines and whores who throw themselves at my feet are too…loose for my liking. And no. I'm not asexual." The surprised expression stayed for a moment before it mellowed out and the vamp chuckled.
"So my dear Tommy, which one do you have in mind?" she asked, leaning forward with a sort of 'I know something that you don't' expression. Tom disregarded the nickname with a growl and pulled out a thought (wandlessly of course) and let the silvery translucent piece drift over to the vamp. She caught the thought with a flicking motion and it seeped into her skin. She was silent for a moment as she processed the thought, then a grin broke out on her face, which quickly evolved into a full blown smirk.
"What?" tom asked, arching an elegant eyebrow. Deayva shook her head.
"Nothing. It's just a figure that you would choose him."
"Oh. So he is one of yours." Tom asked.
"Of course. As if I'd let that delicious little piece of sex dance on this floor without owning it." Tom stared at her, silently signally to go on. "He's a newbie named Harry. Fresh out of training and yet so many customers already after his fine little ass."
"Training?" Tom asked worriedly. He hoped that didn't mean what he thought he meant. As if reading his thoughts (she probably did), Deayva explained.
"He's a virgin. When I said training I meant he was trained how to dance and how to serve and such. He's yet to be touched." She explained, clearly amused as Tom sighed a breath of relief. "He's very obedient to people he likes, but he refuses to serve those he dislikes, and so far, he hasn't taken a liking to anyone, so no one has been able to touch him."
"I see…But wouldn't you normally break him into complete obedience by force?" it was not uncommon for slaves to be rather defiant towards their status, and most of the time they would be beaten broken into submission, so it's rare to see a slave who has yet to be fully 'trained'.
"Normally, we would, but he is a special case Tom." Deayva's eyes wandered over the dance floor. "Harry is a very fiery spirit, something that is valuable and rare amongst slaves. He's bitten more than a fair share of my trainers and he has escaped every single beating unscathed, so I've taken extra precautions as to ensure that he retains his passion. It would be such a shame to see him broken." Deayva took a serious breath, all traces of humor washed away…that lasted for the better half of a second.
"Besides! You know I'm a softy for the cute ones!" She turned back to Tom with a smile and a snigger.
So far, Deayva was the only one who Harry would allow near him, so they've developed quite a bond. Deayva has personally taught him everything, and she was proud to announce that the boy could send the priest to hell for debauchery with a single bat of an eyelash. She's verbally explained the workings of sex, and delighted herself in finding out what various shade of red the boy could invent. For someone who nearly exuded sin through his pores, Harry was surprisingly innocent when it came to the matters of sex. The one time Deayva had him sit through a course with two of her other male slave (he was watching as she explained everything) he nearly fainted of blood loss.
And yet the boy could seduce like no other.
He was a rare one.
Tom sighed and Deayva chuckled again (she liked to chuckle. Got a problem with that?), and reached out for the young boy with her mind. She's bitten him once, and once a vampire bites someone (doesn't have to be a virgin) they can speak to each other through telepathy. After two bites the victim will become like a slave. After three, the victim becomes a vampire.
'Harry dear. Are you busy?' Harry, who was trying to get his complicated uniform back on (he could strip it, but he couldn't put it back on), was a tad bit startled and would've jump had he not been used to it.
'Nope. Do you need me?' He asked.
'It would seem that a customer has taken an interest in you.' Harry rolled his eyes. This wasn't something new to him. Ever since he started on the floor, countless of customers have requested him either for a night or as a slave. He's yet to say yes.
'Dea…' he whined.
'Aw come on! This guy's one of my good buds. Besides, I think you might like him.' Harry growled at his custom. Half and hour and he's gotten no where.
'But what about my cloths?' He was not about to go out there half naked. He actually had to be escorted off the poll after his performance for fear of people abducting him and raping him in the massive sea of flesh and bodily fluids.
'Oh just throw on a white shirt or something. I really don't think he's going to mind all that much.' Harry sighed and threw his costume in a corner and picked up an extra large white button up collar shirt. It was large enough to reach a bit past his finger tips and went halfway down his thighs. Compared to the rest of the people out there, he was the most decently dressed.
With a determined puff, he made his way out of the employ's locker room.
"Hey! Harry! Another guy after your ass?" Asked the bartender. Bill, a tell freckled young man with long red hair tied at the nape of his neck, worked there in the weekends. Weekdays were spent dragon wrestling. Bill was in charge of keep the dragons away from humans whenever they would wander to close to civilization. He found out about Deayva's underground dragon wrestling a few years ago and he was appalled at first, but then he came to realize that those dragons were bred to fight. If they didn't have their share of a good time, they would go mad and run rampant, attacking randomly and killing on sight. Ever since he came to terms with that, Bill started working for Deayva as a dragon keeper and a wrestler. He still upheld the normal dragon protection jobs too, he just found a darker side of him that just loved to get down and dirty. Bill was the only other person who Harry could stand to be around. He was nice and all, but he was young and full of the need for sex, so Harry diligently stayed away.
"You know it. I just hope it's not another fat man cause I don't think I can pull up another fake smile for the rest of the day." Bill laughed and wished Harry good luck as Harry climbed the staircase to his right.
Time to face doom.
Ending notes: Fear teh cliffeh.
PLEASE REVIEW!!! I am lonely[cries
No really. I want to know if you liked it. Did you like it? Good bad or something?
Anyone wanna be my beta?