Title: Huntsman's Compromise
Smuttiness, non-con, kink, dark, foolish Valentine's Day tie-in. 348 words
"A little more? Of course," Lucius murmured, voice soothing as a cool hand on a fevered brow, as he brought the glass to the boy's lips again, tilted it just enough to promise Potter another mouthful if he strained, limbs pulling at the limit of his chains, dry tongue probing past the lip of the glass to lap at the water. Not enough to quench his thirst, of course, but enough to sustain him for another hour or two of play, enough to make Potter fight to the very reach of his restraints for his reward of two gulps of water, if he showed himself desperate enough. He always did, the dear boy.
"That will do for now," Lucius withdrew the glass, smiling as if he were doing it for the boy's good. Potter whimpered, and Lucius's smile deepened; if Potter's throat was moist enough to allow a whimper, he was doing fine.
He set the glass upon the adjacent table, selected from it a device of silver and wire. "What say you wear this for a time, hmm?"
Potter's expresssion did not disapoint, though it was entertaining to feign that it had. "Oh, come," Lucius chided, not entirely hiding the chuckle that wanted to emerge. "I've left your urethra unmolested for days. Those tears are unseemly."
Bless him, Potter tried to check them. As he slipped the device into place, adjusting the wires just so, Lucius continued, "I don't doubt the Dark Lord will like your tears, mind, only that I think your enthusiasm would please him more. I haven't forgotten his words, if you have." The fingers of his face had touched Potter's face; one traced the boy's gasping mouth. "Shall I remind you? 'Show me his change of heart, Lucius, or show me his heart.'"
No sound except for his gasps, but Potter touched the tip of that finger with his tongue, drew it into his dry mouth and began to suck upon it with slavish humility, if not quite the eagerness Lucius hoped to display to his lord.
But he smiled. There was still time.