TWs for sexual content, knife-play, sadism, masochism, blood, torture & borderline consensual sexual content that some may find distressing. Toxic tendencies/manipulations. Please take care of yourself & read with caution.

  HE TASTED LIKE heaven. His hands felt like hell; sinful in that strictly forbidden way only godless things may be. For so long they had been worlds apart, and now, they collided; and the world came alight in a wash of heavenly light, lightning struck the sky though no storm had been brewing.

  He didn't hesitate; kissed her back with even more than she gave, a lifetime of pent up felt, his hands tangling in her hair, her back pressed against the railing.

The rain poured as the stars watched on, silent in their sentience, and beneath their light, they came hopelessly undone. The world could burn and the sky could fall and they wouldn't have even noticed, lonely as they were, but less so in each other's company. The last starving souls in this world of patriarchal tragedy.

He lifted her up as if she weighed little more than a toy, resting her on the railing. Seven's arms draped around his neck, holding him close. It wasn't enough. Nothing ever was. She wanted more, wanted him closer. Their bodies moulded together, chests heaving in tandem, hearts becoming one.
There was a thrill in it too, in the fragility of her life as it balanced atop the thin metal railing. Draco was the only thing standing between her and death. In a way, he always had been, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.

They both broke the kiss to watch as the blanket Seven had brought out with her slipped from her shoulders, billowing from the balcony and into the blackness below. Droplets settled on her exposed skin, trailing down the valley between her breasts to disappear beneath her silk nightgown that was slick to her skin with rain.

It was only a moment's hesitation, and if anything the separation created an even greater sense of urgency. They crashed together, two souls apart for far too long, starved for affection and desperate to be sated. They were one another's greatest affliction, and yet, somehow, also the most potent cure.
Seven's legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him nearer still, pressing him into her in all the right ways. It was reassuring, the feeling that she wasn't alone in this madness, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. The feel of him between her thighs, the promise of all he could give, was enough to make her head fall back in bliss, lips parted in heavenly exhale. He took the opportunity to find her neck, making his way down with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

"Draco," She gasped, digging her nails into the back of his neck and tightening her legs around him, begging for more. He didn't need to be told twice, permission was all he asked.
Seven didn't remember leaving the balcony, but the next thing she knew they were on the bed and Draco was pulling away. Without him there, the cold began to creep in.

And there he was, the Draco she knew. The Draco she loved. Her Draco. In his eyes, he held a question, the one that had never had a more certain answer than now. She was sure. She wanted him, all of him, all the scars and cruelty, even despite the blood and tears. She'd take it all if it meant having him. It wasn't quite forgiveness, and she'd certainly never forget what he'd done to her, but there was a peace in moving on.

But she was also afraid, "I won't let you hurt me again." She said, certain that this was what he wanted, to cut into her again, make her scream, to feel her writhe and watch her agony beneath him.

The corner of his lip quirked upwards, primality mixing with amusement in the pale grey of his eyes. "I wouldn't want you to."
Perhaps it was the control he relished, and so, Seven decided she would take it from him.

"Stay." She commanded, crawling out from under him and forcing him to lie back on the bed. He did as he was told, obedient not out of fear, but out of curiosity for what she would do; the lion entertaining the whims of the lamb until it so suited him otherwise.

In her days spent solitary Seven had searched this apartment from top to bottom, looking for something, anything to bring him back, and as a result, she now knew it like the back of her hand. In a box in the drawer beside the bed, there were two nearly folded ties; one red, one green. She pulled them out and held them behind her back, not certain Draco would willingly submit to what she had planned.

Strangely, he found himself liking this newfound side of her. "You don't have to hide them, Seven. Just tell me where you want me."

She climbed on top of him to straddle his waist, not that her weight would have done much to keep him down if he decided otherwise, "Hands above your head."

He complied, unable to keep his eyes off her. Seven didn't fumble as she tied him to the headboard, perhaps a little too tightly, but then again it was no less than he deserved. Besides, she had all manners of torture planned for that night, this was only just the beginning of Seven's long-awaited vengeance.

A cruel smile worked the corner of her mouth as she leaned in close and heard his breath falter, her hands slipping beneath the pillow to retrieve the dagger. The handle was cold beneath her fingers, the blade sharp and baying for blood. When she held it up for him to see his breath hitched altogether, "What are you doing?"

To her surprise, he didn't sound afraid. If anything, he looked even more hellish, eyes hooded with lust, dark with desire.

"It's called revenge, Draco." She traced the dagger straight down the centre of his chest, tearing through his shirt, thin rivulets of blood beading in its wake. "And doesn't it taste sweet?" With that, she lifted the blade to her lips, still slick with his blood and dragged her tongue along it, never once looking away.

Draco's arms tensed against his restraints, watching in condemned silence as the rest of his shirt was cut away. When she was done, Seven took a moment to appreciate him fully, every hard and scarred inch of him. Draco's tattoos gleamed black in the low light, stark against his pale skin. So much beauty, and yet there, above his heart, the place where her dagger had once found a home, was space for her to add an art of her own.

Her smile turned sinister, never did she think she would take so much pleasure in hurting someone, especially Draco, although somehow that made it all the more fitting.

He didn't cry out as her blade broke his skin, far deeper than before. He hardly even flinched. Blood pooled, thick and red and beautiful, in some sick way. Seven moved slow, precise, savouring the way he tensed beneath her, the way his breaths drew uneven and his jaw clenched.
When he let out a low groan, she pouted, feigning innocence and mocking, "Do you want me to stop?"

The way he looked at her, it was like he was fighting a losing battle, all those distinctly dominant parts of him that vied for control, moments away from becoming something monstrous, "Don't you fucking dare."

Every touch, every kiss of the blade sprang fresh tears straight from his heart, she watched them gather, like a sea of rubies brightly born from the violence of their dissonance.
  They were born sick; a product of imperfect parents and a war that had torn the world apart. From the start, they were doomed to fall. Their gods had abandoned them, and so in turn, they became the deities they had lost.

The cuts were deep, and her blade stained red with another night's cruelty. Seven licked it clean, slowly, waiting to see if he would watch. He didn't disappoint. Spurred on by the heat of his gaze, she dropped her head, dragged her tongue along the length of his chest, lapping up the bittersweet taste of him. Draco groaned; a low sound she'd never heard from him and his hips bucked involuntarily, "Fucking hell, Seven."

She looked up at him with hell in her eyes, "Do that again,"

Draco pressed his hips up into her, straining for release and they both moaned in unison, Seven bracing herself against his biceps.

It wasn't enough. Seven rolled her hips against him, her nightdress riding up and hair falling in a mess of damp curls around her waist. Pleasure and pain rolled into one as blood crawled down the contours of Draco's chest, following the strong lines of his abdomen south to stain against her thighs.

"Stop teasing, Seven." His eyes were clenched, jaw firm as if in pain.

She rolled her hips again, harder this time, relishing in his reaction — in the undeniable effect she had. "Or what, Draco? What will you do?"

He lurched forwards, muscles taught and pulling against his restraints. A crack formed down the centre of the headboard, but despite the damage, his restraints remained intact. Seven gave him her most saccharine smile, leaning forwards until her lips brushed his when she spoke, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Draco swallowed as the dagger ghosted his throat, then captured her lips in a bruising kiss, the blade pressing into his skin. He knew her better than she knew herself — knew the threat was empty. Harm was all she meant, not death, so filled with anger and hate as she was. When at last Seven pulled away Draco stared up at her, fighting challenge in his eyes, "Fuck it."

In one fluid movement, he broke through his ties as easily as if they were made from yarn, grabbed Seven by the hips and forced her beneath him, dagger still to his throat. Seven yelped, the realisation dawning he had only been pretending to fight against them before.

All along Draco had really been the one in control, only allowing Seven to think otherwise until the facade no longer suited him. And now his time had come, he wasn't gentle, never had been. His fingers were rough as they bit into her hips, punishingly harsh.

"I warned you." He hissed.

One time she'd asked him if she should be afraid. You should be terrified, but not of me, at least, not yet, was his response, one that at the time, she hadn't understood. Now she did, though only now her time had come to fear him, she didn't. Seven looked up at him, frightening as he was, and couldn't help but see the broken boy she'd mourned, the body she'd slept with, the man she'd stabbed. The monster she'd hated. The man she loved.

Their lips met, and slowly, she lowered her dagger. They were done fighting, hurting, crying, killing. Draco pressed his knee between her thighs with aching pressure. Seven released a breathless sound, tangling her hands in his hair as he descended; biting kissing his way down her body and balling the hem of her nightdress in his fists. She didn't protest as he pulled it off, moving to accommodate until she lay bare beneath him.

The previous brand he'd left, now healed, glinted pale in the low light; a moonlit mark to her tan skin. Draco held her there as he kissed the scars he'd created. A wicked shiver crawled down her spine, the remains of a sigh playing on her lips.

"No one will ever hurt you again, Seven." He said, in between kisses, his arms wrapping around her legs as he homed himself between her thighs, "I promise," His lips traced the two letters on her hip that branded her as forever his.

He kissed every scar he found, not just his own, but also the ones gained from battles lost and won. Life before Draco had not been easy, though she wasn't sure it had gotten any easier since. "You're the only person who hurts me, Draco."

He paused, guilt projecting in the way his body tensed and his grip became gentle. "I know." He said quietly; two words, and yet every letter overflowed with a lifetime of self-hatred.

No one will ever hurt you again, Seven. — No one except him. He could promise her protection against everyone but himself.

"It's okay." She said. It wasn't, but, she wanted it to be.
"I'm trying to be better, Seven." He admitted, releasing her. Seven sat up."I mean, I want to be, for you."

This time it was her to close the distance, to stop his lips with hers. And there, in their small corner of the world, all the words, all the hurt, every moment before that one ceased to exist. It all fell away, until all that was left was an innate ache, pleading for sacrilegious sedation.
Their mouths crashed together, immoral in their dissonance, and their hands greedy in their wandering.

In contrast to the press of his lips, Draco was gentle as he lowered Seven's back to the bed, her chest arching up into him as he pulled her nightgown down and dove at her breasts. She gasped, grasping the pale strands of his hair tightly as he worked each one with equal time and care.
Seven knew what she wanted, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Draco aided her without breaking his lips from her skin, quickly tearing it away and unzipping the catch, working them off until only his boxers remained.

An immoral degree of anticipation made her eager fingers deft as they slid down to grasp him. Draco hissed a breath between clenched teeth, as he bore down upon her.

Her hand slid down his length and back up again with a small squeeze, fingers barely meeting around his shocking width.

"Fucking hell," The rasping curse fanned warm across her skin, leaving a blazing trail of fire in its wake. Draco kissed her again, different this time, something that had been a long time coming, hungry, starving, desperate.
Draco pulled away, looking just as dangerous as he felt, teetering on the edge of sanity, driven wild by the lust. He held her eyes, almost daring her to look away, as he slowly guided himself to her wet core.

He eased himself teasingly into her, and the sound they made was one that only came with the most cardinal of sins. The feel of him so tightly sheathed inside of her made Seven writhe for friction. "It's too much," She gasped.

— But Draco had never much been one for mercy, instead, he took her by the arms, pinned her still beneath him and said, "Take it, Seven. I know you can."

Amorality stole her salvation, and right as Seven began to adjust to his size Draco slowly slid himself back out, until only his head remained, then came slamming back in. Seven cried out, revelling in the feel of the most incredible agony. He wasn't gentle. He wasn't kind. She didn't want him to be. Anything other than bliss like this would have been a lie, and Draco was done pretending.

He watched her face for signs of protest, finding none as he repeated his actions, harder each and every time.

"Draco!" Seven couldn't stop the gasp that came wontanly from her. That was all it took, what little restraint Draco had been harbouring came quickly undone. They collided; a bitter symphony of lust and love, misguided in their affection. Foolish in their crime.

In any situation other than her current one, Seven would have been embarrassed by the litany of sounds pouring from her. Now she didn't care. Nothing mattered other than the sweet release that only Draco could give, and with every second it loomed closer, mounting and twisting like a great crescendo of a wave, black against the shoreline.

Seven's nerves began to fray, her body tensing and contracting around him uncontrollably. Her pleasure mounted, desperately close, until, at last, the wave crashed down upon her and she came undone with a cry.

He held her there, beneath him, using her as he pleased to get what he wanted, like some sick toy. He wasn't done yet, and so, neither was she. Seven could sense the change in his rhythm as he grew nearer too, his strokes becoming unevenly harsh and his teeth bared as if in pain.

"Fuck! — Mara," Draco groaned as he spilt his release, collapsing down upon her.

  ***
Sorry I had to do it;) Also, thank you so much to annak3davra for another amazing fanart!