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Chapter Text

Harry woke up when a cold drop of water, which dragged down a rusty stalactite growing from the hatch of a ventilation shaft for a few hours, finally landed on his forehead.

He blinked confusedly and then felt a wave of panic as he realized that in the darkness disturbed only by the faint glimmer of a few torches, he was strapped to a stone pillar by an iron chain with handcuffs. Except for a starched ceremonial chemise which reached to his knees, he had nothing on. So since he wasn’t stupid, his heart missed a beat with that finding.

He knew that ending up in here was always a possibility. His prize for the few years of being what some would call and above-person, hiding in plain sight when he swore the oath. He just selfishly hoped he won’t ever be the unlucky one.

How could it possibly be him?!

There were literally hundreds of mutants under the wings of Royals. Every day, dozens of outcasts, reciting the words of allegiance in exchange for a little DNA change meant to turn their lives easier. Yet: it was Harry who was to pay for all of them this month. It was only his fate to end up killed for the Prince’s purebred urges in this humid dark dungeon.

“No,” slipped helplessly from his lips as he worked himself up to the unsettling certainty of his situation.

“Please, no,” his chest heaved with terror, and then constricted with a regret of ever entering this cursed district of the city with a simple wish to have a chance at survival in today’s world.

“Please! Don’t do it! Please! I can pay you back in a different way! Please! I could work for you! I could become your slave! ...Just don’t kill me. Let me have my life! Please!”

It only took a few dreading minutes of screaming into nothingness to feel the cold seeping into his bones through his bare feet. He couldn’t feel the chills before, due to the shock of waking up in this black pit, but now, his teeth literally started to clatter.

“Fuck!” he barked into the void helplessly and then realized that he should at least try to save himself: “Help!” he screamed with chin lifted to the ventilation, a mocking echo bouncing back from the oddly vaulted ceiling. “Help!” he tried to rattle the chains against the stones to create the loudest sound possible. It took some time (not that long, because since they’ve probably injected him with something, he couldn’t use his mutant abilities) before he finally felt exhaustion. Sweat was pooling at the end of his spine, drops of it rolling down his temples. The icy rocks were still burning into his soles as he tried to breathe, though.

In the second of silence after his deep, desperate exhale which turned into steam, he suddenly heard the darkness tear with a sound. Something was moving, no, slithering across the damp paved floor, that made Harry stop yelling, even if he really wanted to scream more. Through the shadows of the poorly illuminated place, he didn’t see it. But he knew that it was closer every second.

He shivered and with a new wave of the lowest instinct of self-preservation, he tried to tug at his cuffs.

Fear was a bitch. It turned Harry into a poor wreck of a person. He felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks and into the rhythm of his spooked, startled heart, he started whispering the word please, over and over again. Stubbornly so.  

It felt awful. More sinister than necessary, Harry would call it. If he at least knew what to expect, maybe he could make peace with it in advance. Prepare himself. Like this, it was just adding to the torture of waiting.

He felt his chest rapidly rising and falling, the coldness of the stone pillar seeping into his shoulder blades through the thin layer of fabric.

How long will it take me to die? Will he torture me? Or rather just get over with it fast enough? he asked himself, as if knowing the answers could ever possibly be comforting.

“Please,” he sobbed again, and it had nothing of his previous dedication to surviving in it. More like a plea for a quick death.

But then he saw the eyes.

Glowing silver. Cold, freezing. Like if the touch of the colour in that gaze alone could cover things with frostbites.

Harry’s jaw fell down in surprise, a weak gasp escaping his throat. Because. He knew those eyes.

Whenever he was angry, they were his.

...

Some believe that one can choose how much they’ll let their beast take over. But that is just a story. Nobody can choose what they are born as. Who they are in life. What they need to do to survive.

Louis was born a Prince, son of two dragons. And he should have been proud and embraced the power. He just could not.

The first person Louis killed was his best friend, Oli. They were just kids, ran to play in the garden. Louis lost a game... When he came back to reason, covered in Oli’s still warm intestines, gaping for air, staring at the joint sticking out the little arm he tore off its body and having Oli’s brown eyes frozenly fixed at him in shock... when he realized what happened, he got a panic attack.

His mother only told him to not freak out about it, giving him advice about how he should surrender to his powers. Louis, however, didn’t see it as a power. It was a curse.

When it got clear to the queen that Louis is a weak excuse of a royal, she slapped his face and left him to drown in darkness. The bravest servant, Louis’ nanny, who was also his wet nurse and loved the boy as her own son, dared to enter his room, even if she saw the massacre by the fountain. She tried to comfort him, soothe him, tell him that he was loved and destined to live a great life. She never managed to convince him, however. Even as young as he was, he couldn’t perceive himself as a powerful creature worth respect as his mother wanted him to see it. He was only a monster, a too dangerous one.

The problem, though, was that he couldn’t die. When he tried poison, just before his heart stopped beating, he changed into the dragon and his body created antidotes. When he tried bleeding out, it worked the same: on the very edge, he switched forms and his wounds healed in a blink. Rope always snapped. No amount of rocks could hold him under water long enough, and if he tried to starve himself, he just killed more people than one. After every try, as if the monster in him was doing it in spite, he paid with committing a murder.

When it got too much, he did the only thing he could: burying himself so deep under his darkness, that there wouldn’t have to slip back into his soul-bearing side of mind and had to relive tearing throats, screams and pools of blood with conscience. In the darkness, he could not be, only endure time.

Every three months, there was a mutant chained to the pillar for him. So that he’d soothe his demon and not break down the whole castle.

Sometimes, it felt like the captives resigned to their fate with reconciliation. Like if they accepted it. Like if they didn’t even long for a chance to fight, because they didn’t deserve it...

Louis tried to imagine that they were murderers. Like him. He tried to not concentrate on it too much.

This time, though, something was different. Something in the air. It made Louis halt before jumping forward. It made him come closer to look. It made him feel a guttural growl forming deep inside of his gut. And then it made him burn inside.

He lost all control and with a tortured roar and snapping bones, he switched into his human form. He panted, his thin pale skin too hot against the rocks. The pain of transformation vibrated through his veins, a white noise pulsing through his ears. But it was somehow dull. Not important. Because there was also the hunger flowing through him. Not the bloodlust kind. It made him stand up.

As his knees buckled, he stared at the curly boy in the chains, blinking, trying to catch up his breath.

“Who are you?” he asked tremblingly. His voice sounded so strange after all the years of not using it.

The lad seemed terrified, silently pressing his back into the pillar as if he could become one with it. But maybe he thought it a sign of hope that Louis has switched. So he gave him his name at last: “H-Harry. I’m Harry.”

Louis swallowed. Because the way Harry’s whisper made his skin covered with chills... Only an urge stronger than the one to kill could ever bring him back: a mating haze, if the partner chose to present as a human. To induce that state, Louis would need another dragon, though. Which – he could tell – this boy was not. No one who wasn’t a member of his precious and pretentious family of pure bloods could be one, so this definitely wasn’t a relative. Louis could smell human on him. Yet. Here they were, flames of desperation awakening in Louis’ belly.

“...What... what are you? ...Why are you here?”

The royals never allowed anyone to use their DNA components. In fact, using it was punishable by death. How could anyone even get their hand on something containing the dragon matrix?

Did his mother send him? Was this some kind of a sick game of trying Louis’ border lines?

He didn’t want this. He never even thought of mating, nor was it ever his intention to try. What it was worth, it was not his fate to give pleasure, he didn’t deserve it, and was in no way prepared to potentially bring new Devil’s breed into this world.

To be honest, he would rather kill the boy right now than getting attached to later bath in his blood – or their hatchlings. It would hurt less. It was a quick decision. Only: it seemed he no longer possessed any self control, he found out as he paced so close to the lad to be able to drag his nose up over his neck, breathing the scent of his sweated skin deep inside of his lungs... and then tearing the obstructive piece of cloth on him with both of his hands, baring him free for Louis to devour with his eyes... and then the soft pads of his fingers, until he yearned to grab for him, turn him over and knead at his waist and ass and thighs...

Harry tried to jerk free, the chains rattling. Louis didn’t really like the sound, so he spined Harry over to press his back into the pillar once again, reaching for the chain and wrapping it around the metal clamp for several times so that the boy would no longer be able to move his hands as they were now raised up, hanging limply in the handcuffs. He cornered him against the stone, aligning their chests.

Harry squeaked in fright, and then, somehow still not on Louis’ wave, he tried to beg for his life: “Please, don’t torture me! Please! I never knew it was your scale I found! I thought it was a crocodile one! Please! I just wanted a chance for a better life! I never used my powers for wrongdoings! I swear! Please, Prince! ...Prince Louis!”

A mutant of his flesh, then...

Somehow, the discovery felt arousing, just as hearing his name out of Harry’s lips. A sweet, honey-like warmth travelled up his spine. His breaths quickened. And it was only when he reached to clasp around the backs of both of Harry’s knees, knocked his legs out from under him (so that his breath hitched) and lifted his weight up to buckle his hips forward, his already fully erected cock pressing right against Harry’s hole, when the lad’s green eyes blew wide with realization of what is to come, only a weak shuddered breath escaping his lips before he seemed to quickly adapt to the situation and changed his tactics of survival: “Ok! Easy! ...You want me? That’s fine. I just want you to–”

Louis wasn’t in a mood for getting bossed around, however. – Or negotiating. It was like if a current of sparks coursed through him, like if a magnetic power of Harry’s body was calling for him. So he silenced his words with joining their mouths, plunging in for a bruising kiss.

Harry resisted for a while, didn’t give in. He tried to hold his breath, too. But the truth was that in his position, there was not much things he could do except not moving his tongue, and then, when he lost the fight with his lungs and had to inhale a gallon of new air, panting, all the resistance somehow left his body. Instead, he felt ignited.

The pheromones must have done their job right, their biology fighting for the nature’s advantage, because even before Louis pulled away, an involuntary moan trickled down Harry’s dissolving dignity as a gush of slick wetted his entrance where Louis’ cock never stopped teasing it.

“Fuck,” Harry threw his head back, his tummy fluttering with shallow breaths, “what is this,” he whimpered, eyes wide with concern when he felt something slick oozing out of him and a crimson red fog clouding his judgement. Normally, fear would devour him as he had never had his hole lubed up all by itself like this, and he definitely also never felt like he’d die if not bred right this second. Now, though, he cared only about one thing: that some place inside of his stomach started burning like if it was scorched and needed rain and that he was sure that if a storm doesn’t come, if he’s left without moisture, it will be the death of him. With every ticking second, every drop he heard falling down after ending its slow way down the stalactites, he could feel the drought spreading, screaming for cultivation. He only craved redemption.

“Please!”

It was a different kind of plea than before, Louis observed. This one was free of dread. There was only an ache for being stuffed in it, yearning to get full. A visceral animal urge.

Louis chest rumbled and he brought Harry’s legs to place them around his waist, let them lock by ankles behind his back. As it was done, he roughly gripped Harry’s hips and moved his own up, his knob finally entering the boy as his previously taunt muscles loosened up and greeted him with an embracing warmth.

They both screamed, their hot breaths mixing in one puff of steam in the poor lightning. Harry’s chest heaved up as he felt his walls stretching over just the top of the Prince’s large cock. A sharp strike of pain made his body taunt.

Louis leaned closer again, to swallow Harry’s moan, to make the ache more bearable for him, even if it was a selfish act of hoping to get the boy relaxed and loose enough to breed him with eggs soon enough. Because he needed him full of shells, pregnant with his future, carrying his seed.

Harry clung to him with a soft gasp and then, their tongues started dancing. It felt overwhelming, to lick into each other’s mouths, tease the other’s lip by grazing it with teeth, rubbing against the other.

When his head started spinning, Louis broke away, but only to start licking down over Harry’s neck, filthily sucking the pale skin into his mouth and sometimes applying pressure to leave his marks. The pleasure it brought caused Harry to not concentrate on the pulsing girth in between his legs for a while. Before the Prince moved.

Harry was so tight. So wet. So gorgeous. And Louis needed to take, not be patient. Out of instinct, he bit into the juncture in between Harry’s neck and shoulder... and bottomed out.

The crimson red fog suddenly turned solid in Harry’s head. And then exploded. It hurt. So bad. But he loved how full he felt, he loved how the Prince’s savage groan thrummed through his body from the spot where his teeth tore Harry’s skin, and it sent a feral shudder of arousal up his spine.

„Ah! Need more!“ his lips parted in a gasp and then opened wider in a contented cry as Louis answered his plea with planting his palm against his stomach and pressed against where his cock was forming a bulge in Harry’s tummy.

“Oh God! Yes! God! Yes! Fill me up! Neet to be full! Please!”

Louis could feel the monster in him preening over this, unable to hold up another untamed growl, long and low. He stirred, pulling out from Harry’s sinfully divine heat, but only to thrust in again and again, adding on speed until he made Harry yelp with the movements, piercing him on his prick, slashing him up, stretching him up so nicely, building this tension in him that made his back taunted as a bow until it snapped with Louis’ next shallow thrust and then turned into a shriek of sensational madness.

Harry’s body was writhing in convulsions of ecstasy, clenching around Louis’ cock, the spasms sucking all energy and control out of him while ropes of his hot come started spurting over Louis’ pecks. He lost control over all of his muscles and if Louis didn’t hook at least one of his limb legs around his hip, not to let him slip off his shaft, he’d only numbly hang there on the chains, short of breath, sweat and slick dripping down his thighs, stars exploding behind his closed eyelids, a desperately puckered, swollen hole gaping for any kind of substitute for a perfect length, a heart wildly slamming against his ribcage.

But he craved more. He wanted absolute fullness. The seed which would grow inside him, eggs that would stretch his womb so much that his skin would tear with stretchmarks on the outside...

“Breed me!”

Louis’s eyes flashed with a silver gleam before he rolled them back into his scull as he got hit with an unfamiliar feeling of something round pushing down his pubic bone and lower into his balls, the whole of his ball sack suddenly unusually heavy and full. He rolled his hips, crashing his mouth with Harry’s again. And then he felt the first egg pushing up.

Harry’s walls burned with the stretch, so much that it made his muscles clench around Louis’ dick, now girthier with the slowly moving object inside, but when he tried to focus on how one of the Prince’s hands tenderly travelled over his chest and nipples, down his sternum and around his bellybutton, all the way up to the now limb dick, caressing every inch of his hot skin as if in soothing manner, it was also somehow extremely pleasurable. When the first egg pressed into a sensitive spot inside that previously scorched place in his stomach, Harry’s cock twitched in a reaction to it and woke to hardness under Louis’ fingers. There was a strange weightiness to the egg and a lot of jelly-like liquid that came with it, too – Harry could feel it trickling right into him, somehow making him feel chilly inside, causing him to curl closer to Louis’ body.

The Prince grunted, moving again, pressing his sweaty forehead against Harry’s and letting out a long rugged breath, as if it hurt him to be going through this. Harry felt special thanks to it and he tried to somehow help Louis by grinding into him, which made Louis growl, and then, at least a dozen of eggs followed in a very quick succession, Harry wasn’t sure about a precise number, because the feeling of the eggs stretching him in combination with the Prince’s fist pumping over his prick until he started cumming for a second time, only made him exhaustedly cry out.

When it was all over and the Prince slipped out of him, carefully standing him down, Harry was somehow glad for the chains, because the dungeon suddenly started rotating around him, the stones under his feet swinging to left and right, and he could only tell that it was all happening due to several kilograms of eggs and aspic nestled in his body which he was yet to get used to. He would have liked to feel, honestly, let his hand marvel over his new shapes. But the chains were still in place.

Just as the thought entered his head, the Prince’s palm stroked over his protruding bump. Tenderly so. Like if it had a bigger meaning.

Harry blinked and waited, his breath shallow. He was not stupid. He was to die here, no matter if with eggs inside of him – or only after they are out.

But Louis placed a damp curl behind his ear and whispered: “I won’t hurt you.”

And he really meant it. In his core, he was somehow entirely certain that he could never hurt Harry. The dragon in him wouldn’t allow it. He was meant to protect him. Keep him warm and nurtured, alive until someone brings the next prisoner for him and takes them out of here.

Because with his eggs inside of him, Harry gave Louis a reason to live, something he never had before.

Chapter Text

Harry shivered as his butt cheeks dived into the cold cloth when Louis carefully sat him down and climbed after him. As soon as he could, he pulled his knees to his chin, curling around his round stomach, swallowing a curse.

Even though he was grateful that the Prince broke his chains so that he could bring him to the nest (nice to get blood flowing back to his arms again), it was somehow ominous to see what said retreat was made of: the base was skulls and bones of all the poor martyrs who came before him, and on the top of this disturbingly large horde – a whole layer of torn sullied ritual shirts, the rests of embroidery identical to the one Harry had on before Louis ruined it, too.

Honestly, the whole situation was very fucked up. Because even if Harry wanted to fight for his life, use one of the rocks scattered on the ground around here to get free... he’d still be stuck in here at least for months, that is if some rats which he could catch and eat not to starve to death lived down there. And then, in a very dubiously possible case of survival, he would probably be without a chance of escaping a terminal sentence anyway, never mind if for murder of a Royal, being pregnant with a threat to current heirs, or for unknowingly using a noble’s sample for mutation. The thing was: he didn’t want to fight.

When Louis’ silver gaze landed on one of his ankles and then slowly travelled up to meet his look, a sting zipped through his nerves. He felt instantly dizzy. He laid down as he shivered again, weakly pulling one of the rag pieces over his hip.

Louis’ nostrils flared. He reached for Harry’s hand and after finding out how freezing it was, he moved to effectively wrap himself around the boy, encasing him in between his limbs, palms sliding over the protruded bump.

Harry just went with it. He didn’t care about being naked (that would be pointless anyway at this point), he just liked how pleasantly warm Louis’ touch felt, how it melted into his bones. It even made him close his eyes in feeling unanticipated relief when all his unconsciously flexed muscles suddenly relaxed.

“How can you be cold if you have my blood?” the Prince asked curiously. “Doesn’t it work like that, the mutant thing?”

With the heat seeping into his flesh more and more, Harry’s mind once again started to get foggy. His eyes fluttered in an effort to make it go away, but it was not that simple, as it turned out, a weak moan escaping him with how good it was to feel the Prince’s hot sole thoughtfully dragging up along his frozen calf.

“I can... ah,” he pressed his back into Louis’ chest and hastily reached to grasp the Prince’s right hand, using his left one to lift it up and slip his own right palm under it, leading Louis to somehow cup it over and intertwine their fingers like that, before giving an incentive to do the same thing with the other hand. He then slid their palms all the way up to stop on the top of his belly.

“...I can only do this,” he breathed and tried to focus over the red mist, hoping that it would work since he was there for hours already, if it wasn’t more than a day, and any kind of power suppressants should not be effective anymore.

In no time, his palms turned alight, soft pastel orange beam bursting through the gaps between their locked fingers and a cotton-candy-melting-on-tongue-like warmth of Harry’s own caused him to sigh.

Louis smiled. “Hm, very nice,” he murmured and added also: “What else can you do?”

Harry’s heart jumped on a track of rushed race of beats with the way the Prince’s voice unlocked something feral in him. He wanted to answer, but instead just fell deeper into the thickness of that annoyingly invasive red haze, throwing his head back.

Then, however, his stomach rumbled loudly, and Louis moved, hovering above him in no time. “You’re hungry?”

 “No shit, Sherlock,” Harry pushed into his chest, causing him to fall back to his side, chuckling a little. In reality, a bit of unease washed over him. With only water from the stalactite pond, he won’t survive here for much longer now. Just a few days and it’s over for him.

“You’re half me. You don’t really need food to survive,” Louis stated. “I’m basically immortal. The prisoners my mother sends me are just precaution so that I don’t go crazy, but I think I could do without. I wanted it like that, mother didn’t listen. Anyways. As I said. Dragons can’t die. Which means that so can’t you.”

Harry snorted into the shadows. “Sure. What happened to your grandpa, then?”

Louis blinked. “...That’s complicated. And not what we are speaking about here. You don’t need to feel hungry.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Harry uttered, but Louis started slowly moving one palm up and down his hip, as if he wanted to distract him.

“It’s in the mind. All you need to do is to stop thinking about it,” the voice tickled him on his shoulder, sending a spark through his spine.

“Oh really, now?” Harry teased. “And what else is there to think about in this dark pit of nothingness, huh?”

Louis’ hand stopped.

“Me,” he breathed hotly into Harry’s ear from behind and unexpectedly sucked on Harry’s earlobe.

The wet attack on his senses unlocked a flood of heat pooling behind his pelvis. He moaned, losing control.

“Fuck!” he gasped, and Louis brought one hand to his pregnant belly, pushing one knee in between his legs, his cock fattening up so close to where heaven was hidden.

He could already feel the wetness pooling down Harry’s bottom when he slid his free hand to check, and it made him instantly hard.

“Of course, baby. We don’t need no food to make your stomach nicely full,” he assured and territorially licked at Harry’s nape, holding his waist down and rutting against his plump ass until he managed to fit his member into Harry’s slicked crack – not further.

“Oh God!“ Harry pressed his back into him, so quickly gone for it, crazily drunk on the feel of Louis’ manhood poking in between his ass cheeks.

“What are you waiting for?! Shove it in!” He prompted impatiently, breathing heavily, because to be honest, he felt desperate.

With no idea about how this worked, he only was sure that the smallest of Louis’ touches threw sparks in his core’s ember, which was just smouldering and waiting to be stoked into a giant fire for years already. He’s never realized it until now. But there was need to burn thrumming through his veins for ages.

Louis chuckled, reaching to adjust one of Harry’s legs so that he’d have more space to make the friction enjoyable. “This is how you beg the breadwinner for deliverance, love?”

Harry whined. “I’m sorry! Please! I beg you!”

Louis’ hand, already lubed with Harry’s slick, moved to Harry’s leaking prick. He slowly jerked it up and down, smearing the precome over its head with his thumb while performing another fake thrust, only just a slide.

“Louis, please. Please!” Harry pleaded eagerly as his body sweated and trembled. “Please,” his voice trembled, too. “I need–“

With the thought of slipping inside of him for real, the Prince groaned. Because he needed that, too. He just enjoyed bringing Harry apart like this. „I will give you everything you need,“ he promised in a sinful whisper. „But only if you’re good, ok? Be good for me.“

Harry sharply inhaled and swallowed the air, holding his breath for a second, as if he was trying to get a hold of himself despite already being too far from anything close to sanity.

“Hm. So, so good,” Louis praised him and placed a little teasing flick of his tongue over the sore spot where he previously bit through Harry’s skin, which had Harry’s body twitching beneath him. He brought one arm forward to bite into the back of his hand and muffle his low whine like that, but Louis tore the arm away.

“Don’t do that,” he said, quickly getting back to the torturously gentle drags over Harry’s dick, while his second hand pressed firmly against the soft place above Harry’s pubic bone, feeling the roundness of eggs inside.

Harry now moaned out loud in a voracious demand, his body too close to snapping.

“Please,” he heaved, throwing his right hand back to land his palm on Louis’ sweaty hip and urge him forward with a squeeze. “Please!”

Louis realized that the last plea was actually a sob. With it, he forgot about any plans of more teasing and with a fierce relish, he let go of Harry’s cock and quickly arranged his tip to press directly on Harry’s entrance and finally pushed inside for real.

The thrust was slow but deep, Harry’s insides already familiar with him.

Feeling his smooth walls tighten around him was a rapturous bliss, causing Louis’ eyes to close as Harry’s pleasure spilled through the place in a cry.

“Oh God! Yes, yes, yes, yes!” the squeeze on Louis’ hip started getting stronger, as if less than too much was too little for Harry.

In no time, Louis bottomed out and stilled while Harry panted shakily. No matter how mad the thought felt (considering that they were just fucking on a pile of literal human remains) – stretched out and quivering like this, there was no place he’d rather be.

“You feel so good,” Louis whispered into his skin as he kissed it, dutifully getting back to his twitching cock and gently massaging his balls. “Divine,” he nibbled at his shoulder and Harry let out a frustrated whine as he realized that what was just said will probably mean more torture. But at least, he felt full. Not to the brim – but full enough. For now. He decided he’ll take it.

So when Louis didn’t move (other from his hand, that was) and just revelled in the way their bodies felt tied together, Harry tried to breath through it not to go insane. It only didn’t occur to him that to send all the new air right into his abdomen with the deep inhale, will cause him to feel everything ten times stronger as all the eggs would move inside of him.

When it happened, a horrid grumble burst out of his chest. It felt like if he was a jar full of compressed cries and moans and someone threw a pebble in because he just couldn’t see it being already full, and that threw-in rock then pushed the sounds over the brink and as they spilled out, they all fused into one and they were exactly as intense as one might imagine.

Louis must have felt the eggs, too, the shells probably brushing against him, because he suddenly stopped that slow-mo cockwarming nonsense and finally pulled out, only to bury himself back in and cause even more havoc in Harry’s belly, grabbing for both of his hips and angling them right to make it easier for himself to pound into the heat, soon letting go of the waist, though, and concentrating on the stomach again. His hips rocked forward only a few times before Harry couldn’t hear anything except the scandalously erotic wet sounds mixed with his frantic heartbeat and shuddered breaths.

Next thing he knew, more of that jello thing, which he already made acquittance with, was spurting into him. The Prince’s conquering rough huffs as he pulled him impossibly closer and rutted into him stirred something ancient in Harry’s mind: something proud of the course of this claiming; something that felt like smug competence, because he proved himself to be satiating.

While Louis’ precious fluid was filling him effectively, Harry stared down at how his fingers, which were originally placed all close together on his tummy, started slowly spreading apart as the round shape began to inflate. In not so long, he felt like a balloon that has to pop every second, hot arousal spilling into the web of all his nerve connections the moment he adjusted himself not to get a cramp and accidentally made Louis brush against his prostate.

An orgasm rolled along his spine and he allowed himself to completely relax in the Prince’s hold.

Louis didn’t let go of him even after it was all over, leaving his cock inside, as if he was afraid that his work would go in vain had he removed the plug... or as if he just viewed this as a statement of some kind. Something like: You are mine.

Harry melted into a puddle as hot lips grazed the skin of his back.

“So how’s your hunger, hm?”

Harry smiled. “Honestly. These were the best scrambled eggs I’ve had.”

Chapter Text

When the gurgling sound burbled through Harry’s body again, he moved and shuffled the pieces of cloth a little to try to cover it. To his tough luck, though, Louis heard it and was up next to him right the following moment.

“Look, this is not good.”

“Hm?” Harry tried his best to pretend like nothing happened, but Louis shook his head dismissively.

“Stop this! At first, I thought that the mutation made you more resistant to mortal things. But obviously, it’s not the case. You’ve lost weight.”

Harry swallowed. “Yeah, but. Maybe it’s just the egg inside me,” he patted his bump. “Didn’t you say that he actually sucked out the magic from all the others in my tummy before using the calcium from their dissolved shells to grow his own bones? Can’t he just suck some energy out of me, too? Maybe he needs it...”

Louis’ jaw tightened. “The thing with eggs is normal. There was never more than one dragon in a lay, it’s how things work. A bit cruel, but in the end, it’s just how this process works. Monsters fight for their place since before birth, so that it is ensured that they are the worst ones from the lot–”

“Our baby is not a monster,” Harry bickered.

Harry has already observed several times before that Louis was kind of allergic to this theme of conversation. “Harry–“

“He’s our son! Your son! You promised that you will protect him, yet now, you speak of him as if you only were waiting for me to lay the egg to crush it!”

Louis’ nostrils flared. “What? No! That’s not– God! How can you say that? He’s my blood and I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a creature, Harry! It will hatch a reptile, for God’s sake! He’s not good. I’m not either, that’s the thing!”

Harry stubbornly placed his hands around his round tummy. “He’s my baby.”

Louis closed his eyes, frustratedly shaking his head. “Ok. Um... here,” he moved a little, and suddenly, Harry could smell blood. He almost gagged from how his stomach churned with the strong metallic scent pushing into his nostrils. But that was when Louis ordered: “Drink.” as he put his sliced wrist under Harry’s mouth.

Harry looked up with horror. “What did you do?! Fuck, this might get you killed!” he inspected the cut. “It’s so deep! ...So much blood, too–” he clamped his hand over the wound, frantically breathing, the blood pouring through his fingers.

“I said drink,” Louis shrugged him off and brought his hand closer to him again, until it was just millimetres away from Harry’s lips.

“But–“

“God, don’t you get that you are the one who’s soon to meet Grim Reaper?!” His angry voice vibrated through the space. “I will heal in a minute, but you are getting weaker every day! Drink it!”

“Lou–“

“Please, do it,” the dragon’s voice suddenly softened. “Harry, do it. Do it for him if not for yourself.”

Harry inhaled sharply. He felt disgusted when he imagined himself in the act, no matter if rationally, he knew that Louis was right and his blood could gain him at least some energy. It didn’t matter that he was hungry so much that his muscles hurt when he moved them. However, the way Louis said the last thing, made him reach for his wrist and latch to it fully.

As he did it, he locked eyes with Louis, trying his best not to think of the taste. But then, he realized about the temperature and density of Louis’ blood and every bit of self control somehow evaporated from his body. He moaned, opening his mouth, and suddenly felt the hot lava-like fluid trickling down his chin and chest. It was too warm. Like a soup taken right from a pot. And even the taste... Harry liked it, he realized as he let go to take a breath, wiping his lips and then licking his fingers not to let any drop come in waste.

Louis’ eyes widened, turning silver. “Shit,” he breathed, “H–“

He probably didn’t think this through entirely. Because apparently, dragon blood was something like a too strong aphrodisiac, at least for the dragon’s mate, it seemed.

Harry moaned, reaching for Louis’ arm again, and bringing it up to his lips to let the blood fill his whole mouth. He swallowed the first two doses, but after the next fill, he spat the thick red juice to his palms and started smearing the blood all over himself, cheeks and neck, chest, thighs...

“Harry, listen to me,” Louis tried to interfere, bending his arm to get the wrist further from Harry’s reach, “this is not what you want to do, I’m sure. You really need to calm the fuck down–”

Instead of a coherent reply, Harry moaned again. Louis noticed that his eyes started shining into the dark, too, and it was clear that he was already too far, as he suddenly bent a knee and invitingly moved it to the side, opening himself up for Louis to see.

Louis swallowed. “Love, I think–“

Harry’s palm was now moving down his round tummy, leaving a quickly drying mark upon his pearl skin. As he reached his cock, coated it in red and writhed under his own touch, Louis’s self control broke.

“Ok,” he breathed. “Are you trying to seem like a snack or something?” he murmured with a grin. “...So that I could eat you, hm?”

Harry lifted his hips as a reaction to that, exposing his hard cock in a clear call for touch and making a desperate sound.

Louis moved to push his hips back down, pressing a kiss high to his right thigh and making Harry even a bigger mess with only that.

He couldn’t help but smile as he had the boy trembling with need under him. He felt a bit of that need that Harry couldn’t supress, too. But the more they did this, the more there was something else mixed in it. Something Louis couldn’t quite name, but which made his chest warmly tight from time to time.

“Want me to take care of you, hm?”

“Ah!” The eyes rolled back in Harry’s skull.

“I will, baby,” he promised and took him into his mouth.

...

When they were in the best part, Harry screaming for mercy under Louis’s ministrations, a small familiar sound pierced Louis’ bubble. He was so out of it, though, that he couldn’t stop worshipping Harry’s cock, and then only realized his mistake as the heavy metal door’s hinges screeched from the left.

That passageway was where the soldiers always came through to drag new prisoners in shackles into the dungeon. Today, they could have been their way out. Only: as Louis straightened up, Harry wailing under him, and locked gazes with one of the two men in armour (the one holding a beacon up), the soldier’s eyes widened in horror.

“Shit! The monster’s been torturing the last one for a whole of three months!” he yelled back at his comrade, who tried to confusedly squirm into the lesser dark filled with light.

Louis’ rational side was screaming at him to immediately act and explain the situation to the men. After all, they were his subjects and if he ever ordered them to take Harry out of here, they should obey him.

There were two little problems, though. First one was that his irrational side would never allow any stranger take Harry from his side – in fact, having intruders so close to the nest now, he couldn’t hold back a deep, guttural, warning growl, which had the men hesitating in place – and second: there was blood all over Harry, it was also dripping down Louis’ mouth. And maybe, it was no surprise that as the other soldier noticed, he swore.

“Fuck, look at his mouth! He’s eating him alive!” he stumbled back and hit his back into his colleague. “Don’t bother with the shackles! Leave the new one on the floor, we have to go!”

Louis wiped his mouth with the back of his hand from which the blood was still dripping. He stood up, doing his best not to react to Harry’s animalistic cries, in which Louis heard hurt and neglect. It was killing him to not react to it, but he knew he had to do this.

“Soldiers,” he said in a stern voice, “I order you to take me back to my quarters in the palace – altogether with my mate.”

It seemed like the men weren’t exactly ready to listen to him, though, because the one with fire exclaimed: “Shit, hurry! We have to get out before he gets too close!”

“No, wait!” Louis struggled to get off his and Harry’s nest and hurriedly stumbled over the bones. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just need-“

“Quick! Where’s the key?!” the lightkeeper snapped at the other man, who hurriedly started to go through the keys on the buckle.

It took him a moment, but in the end, he came out victorious from that task. “Here! I’ve got it!”

“Ok, come on! We have to get out of here and lock the door! Quick! Move it!” they started to pull at the heavy metal door, the hinges groaning again.

“I order you,” Louis tried again, once he made it to the pillar, “I order you to stop what you’re doing and bow in front of your prince!” His legs were only moving slowly, because of how hard it was to battle over each step with his dragon side, which didn’t care at all about the men in that moment.

He wasn’t quick enough to reach them before the door closed after them, only a bit of the orange light glowing through the peephole.

The key bearer probably struggled to push the key in, because the other soldier suddenly burst out: “...Fuck, you’re hopeless! ...Give it to me! ...Shit! It doesn’t fit! ...What is this?!”

Louis breathed into the dark cold place with obstacles once he finally placed his palms against the metal door, chest heaving heavily, sweat running down his temples. Looking straight into the face of the one with fire through the peephole, he growled: “I order you to take me to my mother!”

But after a horrified look at the man’s face, he only heard: “Run!” uttered to the other soldier, and the light started to get fainter.

“Please! Please, come back!” he reached to wrap his fingers around the grid in the peephole. “I beg you! Harry needs help!”

But they didn’t come back. In a while, the passageway only fell dark again.

Louis collapsed to the floor, his back prompted against the door. 

He just sat there for a while, eyes closed, until he quickly opened them and turned his head to the side. His eyes fell back upon the motionless body laying on the stones just a few metres next to him. He swallowed. He knew that the person wasn’t dead, just drugged. Louis could hear his shallow breaths and his stomach turned upside down with the first thought he had - that he could easily rip the man’s head off and feed Harry with his flesh to gain him some strenght. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. And then he sighed.

How the fuck was he to keep two people alive here for another three months?