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A Dangerous Game

我他妈笑死！！汤和哈利打架打着打着擦枪走火就ying了哈哈哈哈哈！！哈利也太可爱了！！

“You’re hard.”

"Am not!" Harry cried. And if he was, it was only the adrenaline.

Rather than answer, Riddle leant forwards, just so. Harry groaned, embarrassingly loud, as his thigh ground against his cock, sending electric shivers of pleasure up his spine.

“No,” he tried to say, but to his horror, it came out breathy. Riddle gazed down at him, his eyebrows drawing together, like Harry was a puzzle he was trying to solve. His eyes flicked to where Harry's free arm lay limp in the grass.

Not fighting.

Not struggling.

Harry went red in embarrassment as those dark, sceptical eyes panned back to his own.

But Riddle did him the courtesy of not contradicting him. Instead, very slowly, very sensuously, his fingers traced up Harry's bare arm and closed tight around his wrist like a shackle.

Harry swallowed. He was completely pinned. Whatever happened next was not his fault. He met Riddle’s eyes again, and finally struggled in his hold.

In a complete coincidence, the movement rubbed his cock against Riddle’s.

The Slytherin growled and lowered himself down so they were pressed together, grinding forwards. Harry could feel his weight on him, feel his breath tickling his skin, feel that he was hard too--

It was exciting. The most exciting thing ever. Harry canted his hips up, finding a rhythm with Tom - with Riddle - and threw his head back, gasping, as they pressed together again and again. Riddle let go of his wrists, sacrificing the hold for better leverage, and Harry flung one arm round his waist while the fingers of the other wound through his hair. His curls were as soft and silky as they looked--

“I hate you,” he gasped out as Riddle moved between his thighs, shaking with pleasure and the sheer thrill of it. It was like running down a steep grassy hill as fast as he could, knowing that at any moment he was going to fall, that it was inevitable.

Riddle spoke into the crook of his neck. “I know.”

哈哈哈以及第八章最后一段！

The quiet, tenuous peace between them lasted all day, and when they went to bed that night, Harry didn’t sleep in the armchair. Riddle cuddled up behind him straight away, no longer keeping up the charade of facing the wall. His hands roamed over Harry’s thigh, hip, chest, neck – the touches were somewhat sexual, but mostly just possessive. Staking a claim.

To Harry’s shame, he didn’t mind.

这里哈还不介意汤触碰哈利哈哈哈哈我真是爱死这篇了！！