badthoughtsgoodthots

Draco could never make himself run.

He tried to ignore them. It was difficult after being on high alert for weeks; watching closely for any sign they would attack him again. He couldn't suddenly make himself unaware of the way Toms fingers gripped at his book and Harry's lazy stretching. He waited for Harry to crack his neck. That was always the signal. Harry would crack his neck and Tom would rise from his space in the back corner (away from any asinine conversation that usually filled the currently empty common room) and Harry would follow from his place by the fire (in the warmest possible spot) and they would both seat themselves either side of Draco. Tom exuding power and Harry transforming into a creature of pure sex appeal both setting off Dracos instincts which would scream at him that these two were dangerous and meant him just as much harm as past experiences had taught him, but he didn't try to leave. Couldn't try to leave.

As much as he hated "The Draco Game", hated the way Tom just sitting next to him made him feel helpless and trapped, hated the way Harrys soft laugh in response to whatever Tom had said in parseltongue reminded him that this was all just a bit of fun to them, he couldn't leave.

The Draco Game was simple: Make Draco Malfoy cum in his pants without once touching his dick. Ideally touching him as little as physically possible. Parseltongue was ideal for this. Sometimes during parseltongue games Draco would be brought to orgasm without a single finger being laid on him. He hated those days the most.

"Once upon a time there were three little pigs." Harry started, letting his lips graze Draco's ear. "they each came of age to bulid a house for themselves..."

"Their mother told them to build a house of bricks, but along the way to get them the youngest pig saw some straw." Tom added, carefully annunciating each word like he would an order he wanted followed. Now. But Draco didn't have to do anything during the Draco game. Well, one thing, so it was probably meant for Harry.

"The next found some sticks" Harry whispered into his ear, pressed so close Draco could almost feel his heartbeat where his too warm chest touched Draco's arm. His tone shifted to flirtatious, inviting. "So they made their houses out of that instead"

Tom was not pressed up against him, he lent casually over from his seat on the couch, arm draped over the back, as if this were normal party conversation, but his intensity crowded Draco all the same. "They all built their houses. One of brick, one of sticks, one of straw." He said as if he was examining Draco to see whether or not he agreed with Harry's comment. Draco couldn't stop the blush rising to his cheeks.

He heard a slap. Harry's hand had come up to touch Dracos chest and Tom was clearly displeased. Harry didn't care, hand toying defiantly with the buttons at Dracos collar. "They were all happy until one day the big bad wolf came to town." He said pointedly. "The wolf came to the straw house first."

A rare kindness materialised then. Tom let his body brush casually against Draco's, no longer strictly refraining from touch. "He could smell his victim inside and thought "What a fine meal he would make." So he knocked and said "little pig little pig let me come in." He sounded agitated to have given up on playing with voices only. An agitated Tom was always dangerous.

"Fuck off, mate." Said the pig."

"Language, Harry" Tom said in English. Had what Harry said really been that dirty? Harry could be crass at the best of times, so Draco didn't doubt it would be the case here. "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in" said the wolf. And as he did the foolish piggy leapt out of the remains and lead the wolf straight to the stick house."

Harry's hand had travelled lower to Draco's stomach, not doubt feeling the tension from his humiliation, anxiety, and mind numbing arousal. Draco's mind was running wild with what filthy things they might be saying to him. He hoped Harry had been saying how pretty Draco would look sucking Toms cock. He would look so good. Do so good. If only they'd let him.

"The pigs lock the door and wait for the knock to come. Surely the house of sticks will be strong enough. It shouldn't be possible for hissing to sound like purring, but Harry always managed to. Draco could feel himself twitch at his words.

"The big bad wolf knocked. "Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in."

"Instead of blowing our house down how about we blow you?" Harry suggested. Tom looked annoyed now. He rolled his eyes and gripped Draco's chin, forcing him to look straight into his red eyes instead of down at the floor. "He blew their pathetic hovel down and followed them to the brick house." Tom said, reaching a hand up to play with an errant strand of Draco's hair.

Harry wouldn't have Tom take all the attention. He let his hand travel lower to pull teasingly at Draco's belt before stroking his hand up and down his thighs.

"Inside the pigs waited, trembling together to see what the mean wolf would do."

Draco tried to shrink away but he was held fast in those strong hands. He felt Harry adjust his grip as well, reaching an arm around his back to ensure there could be no chance of escape. He was pinned now, a specimen for Tom to examine. He was suddenly very aware of how heavily he was panting. Gods he was so close already.

"Annoyed by the pigs making such silly suggestions, the wolf gathered up the remains of the straw and stick houses and covered the brick house with them and set them alight." Tom said, moving closer as he spoke so that there was only the barest amount of space between his skin touching Draco's, still not letting him break eye contact. "The heat cooked them alive."

Draco whimpered. Tom was going to watch him while...

"And the big bad wolf had a feast."

Draco stifled a moan as he came in his pants, untouched, again. The shame of it hit him right after the pleasure. Not ruining it, but giving experience a flavour that would upset him later in his bed, alone.

"Tom wins." Harry announced, finally switching to English. "But I don't know if it really counts. He went a bit off script." His hands moved back to Dracos stomach making small, soothing motions. It helped.

"You can argue with me in our bed." Tom smiled, releasing Dracos chin and grasping Harry's instead. Draco whimpered as they kissed with him still pinned between them.

Tom took Harry's hand and began to lead him up to the private room he was afforded as Head Boy, leaving Draco alone and sexless again.

"Is Draco joining us?"

Draco tried not to show just how eager he was. Everything would be Tom's decision. It wouldn't do to act out of line.

"Toys should stay in the playroom." Tom said simply.

"Maybe he could be a pet instead. Pets get to sleep in the bed." Harry suggested. Though Tom's expression showed he didn't think the same at all.

"You'll have to look after him yourself."

"I will. Promise." He turned to Draco. "Are you coming?"

It was everything Draco had wanted all these long months of their game. It took him too long to register that it was actually happening in front of him. Harry started to turn away, dejected.

"I already did. But I'd like to help you both cum." Draco's brain managed to say, even if his body hadn't gotten the message to stand up yet. Harry laughed.

They're at like a party or whatever and he keeps asking people if they've seen his hands and everyone thinks he's high or joking because his hands are on his arms and he's getting increasingly distressed and he tries to like have a drink to calm his nerves but he doesn't have hands and no one is going to pour it in his mouth for him.

H: Awesome. How long till it wears off?

He sits in the corner, quietly sad, feeling like he doesn't belong.