Deal

5

Harry stared blankly at the wall of his room.
The events of the previous night had haunted him since they'd happened.
("It's you, brat. I. Want. You.")
The thought of those words had Harry's pulse racing again.
I fucked up, didn't I?
That night, when Voldemort had confessed his love for Harry, the boy didn't hesitate to grab the elder by the front of his robes and snog the man breathless.
Leaving a slightly stunned, possibly turned on dark lord behind, as Harry had walked away quickly and locked himself in his room.
Harry wasn't good with emotions.
He wasn't good with all that love crap.
Though he supposed, neither was Tom.
The man was rumored not to be capable of love.
Could Harry trust him?
Could Harry truly trust the man not to burn Harry when he got too close?
When.
Not if.
When.
Harry knew it was only a matter of time before his walls would crash, Voldemort invading his mind.
Harry always had high walls, his guard always up, always on alert and ready to attack at his defense.
Harry didn't have too much experience in this sorta thing.
He hadn't really done much except with himself and he never really had been so interested in someone before.
Harry knew that at least.
Voldemort, often intrigued Harry, making him want to know more.
Harry had admired the man, always.
He'd flirted with him a bit sure, but as much as he liked him, did Harry love Voldemort?
Harry didn't know.
He hadn't talked or come out of his room all day, the night sky now prominent as Harry realized he'd been locked in his room until the next night.
Harry was frustrated, as he sighed deeply.
What did this mean?
What happens now?
How long?
That was something he wanted to know.
How long had Voldemort loved him?
Days, months, years?
Harry wanted to know, but despite his gryffindor courage, he couldn't get up the nerve to go and ask.
Harry wanted to break something.
He liked Tom, why was it such an issue?
Harry honestly, for the first time in his life, didn't know what to do next.
He didn't have a full plan for what had happened, never expecting it too.
Harry wanted nothing more than to know what to do next.
His hand shook slightly, as he ran it through his messy hair.
Harry didn't know much now, but he wanted to.
He needed his head in order.
Did he like Voldemort?
Harry sat and thought for a moment.
Yes, he liked when the man tried to hide his amusement in public, but would laugh freely with Harry.
Yes, Harry often stared at Voldemort, deep in thought, always admiring the man.
Yes, he felt great satisfaction when the man was around.
Did Harry like him?
Yes, Harry had concluded.
Harry liked the man.
He knew that at least. But, what else did he know?
Harry rubbed his face with his hand, contemplating all he had thought of for the past few hours.
He thought of Voldemort's crimson, red, eyes and how erotic it sounded as the words 'I want you.' Came from the mans lips.
He thought of what he smelled like, strangely the smell of butter beer, whiskey, chocolate, and vanilla.
Harry could smell that scent all day.
It mixed perfectly together and when Harry was around Voldemort, he often found himself leaning towards the man subconsciously to get just a whiff of that damned scent.
Then Harry thought of what he didn't want to.
How the man tasted.
Oh, how Voldemort had tasted, the mans lips against Harry's own.
The man tasted brilliant!
Especially like the dark chocolate he loved to munch on when he thought no one saw.
Harry saw, wanting to taste the chocolate from the mans lips before.
Yes, Harry had thought about it before.
He'd made a list of everything he wanted to do to the man.
Harry thought of the light moan the man had let slip from his mouth at the sudden desire Harry had showed.
It only made Harry kiss the man harder.
Harry wondered what another part of the man would taste like.
Salty?
Sweet?
Harry wanted to run his tongue over the mans entire body, worshipping him.
Harry groaned at the release in his pants, having reached orgasm without even needing to stimulate himself manually.
Harry sighed.
He was a bit pathetic.
Again, Harry still didn't know much, but he did know one thing.
Again.
He wanted to kiss the man, again.