Archive of Our Own ^beta

Harry slapped Tom’s wandering hands away for the third time in a quarter hour.

“Tom!” he hissed under his breath, “we are in the library!”

Tom lifted his hand away from Harry’s inner thigh, instead moving to pick up a spare quill and fiddle with it.

Tom affected a dramatic pout, “Yes, and we’ve been in here for ages now. I finished my assignments hours ago, and you won’t even let me entertain myself.”

The alpha stuck his lower lip out in a ridiculous pout.

Harry will not be swayed.

“You are welcome to leave at any time and leave me in peace. Besides, there are rules in here, and I cannot be kicked out before I finish this essay!”

Tom knew Harry had a point.

He’s been working diligently for several years to secure a position as a Healer's Apprentice, and though his omega is intelligent, potions has always been a bit of a difficult subject for him.

But his own argument stands.

They have wasted away over half their Saturday in the library. Usually, Tom Riddle—the genius, head boy that he was—would be ecstatic to spend his day like this, but dammit he was bored.

And horny.

Mostly horny, to be honest.

And his omega had been too busy and stressed with the N.E.W.T’s coming up to humor his libido.

It’s been nearly a week, and Tom isn’t sure he can make it much longer.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I won’t get us kicked out, Madam Pince loves me and you know I get quite a bit of leeway.”

“Only because the professors don’t realize you violate at least 3 rules a week!” Harry never lets any of his mistakes go. It’s not fair when Tom is so lenient towards him.

“Tom!” Harry snarled at him, tiny fangs showing, and Merlin is it adorable when he does that, “Hands!”

Tom just lets a smug grin crawl across his face. He can feel the muscles of Harry’s lower stomach jump under his teasing fingers.

His omega tried to tug his hand away, but wasn’t strong enough to force the issue without causing a commotion.

“Mm,” Tom hummed, tracing tiny circles with his fingertips, “You’re so tense. That’s not healthy, darling. Why don’t you let me help you?”

He savored the bright red flush that spread across Harry’s neck and face. His fingers itch with the desire to chase the flush down his omega's body.

“Don’t call me darling! And this isn’t relaxing!” Harry jerked to his feet, Tom’s hand falling away from under his shirt.

Perfect.

Tom’s other arm shot up, and both hands clamped down on Harry’s waist, dragging the omega down into Tom’s waiting lap.

Tom pulled Harry flush against his chest and pinned him there, easily ignoring the squirming attempts to get free.

He pressed his lips to his omega’s ear before he spoke, just to feel Harry shiver.

“Calm down, Harry, you wouldn’t want to make a scene, would you?”

He dipped the fingertips of the arm trapping Harry’s midsection into the waistband of his omega's trousers, just tracing the skin there. The other hand, he used to pull the potions textbook and essay materials back in front of Harry.

“There you go,” Tom murmured, grinning, “now we both get what we want.”

He knew if he could see Harry’s face, he would look delightfully red, half from fury and half from embarrassment.

Harry had gone rigid in his arms, the muscles in his jaw stood out prominently from how hard he must be clenching his teeth together.

Tom tapped a long finger against the parchment in front of him, “Go on, darling, your essay won’t write itself.”

He didn’t expect Harry to jab his elbow back into Tom’s ribs, forcing a shocked breath from his lungs and loosening his arm just enough for the omega to slip free.

“That’s it,” Harry snapped, shuffling his books and papers haphazardly into his satchel, “I’m going back to the tower so I can work in peace!”

“Aw, come now, Harry, surely you’d like help with your little…problem.” Tom eyed the tiny bulge between Harry’s legs, smugly grinning at the ruffled omega.

Harry refused to look at him, but readjusted his robes to conceal the evidence of his arousal, “I’ll deal with the problem you caused, myself!”

Tom blinked, briefly startled, then narrowed his eyes, “I’m sorry, you what!?”

But Harry was already halfway down the aisle, muttering surely disparaging things about his alpha's character.

Tom stood in a fluid motion, dusting invisible lint from his perfectly crisp robes as he strode after him.

“Harry, stop.” He demanded, voice calm and quiet, but dangerous.

Harry did not stop. He did not even acknowledge him.

His damned omega never behaved like an omega.

“Harry, wait,” Tom said again, catching up to him just as he slipped out the library doors. He shot out a hand to catch Harry by the upper arm, jerking him to a stop.

“Let me get this straight. Instead of allowing me, your alpha, to help you, you want to run off upstairs and…handle things. Alone. Without me?!”

Harry jerked his head up to lift his chin, defiant as always. “Yes. You know what you were doing in there. You’ve been winding me up for days, Riddle. Congrats. You found my limit.”

Tom blinked. Slowly.

“Oh, darling,” he drawled, stepping forward and pushing Harry along until the omega’s back hit the cool stone wall of the corridor. His arms came up to bracket Harry in, trapping him in. “You think I’ll let you touch my omega without me present?”

Harry sputtered, “Let me—? Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Tom dropped his voice an octave, leaning down to nose at Harry’s neck. “Edge yourself alone until you’re miserable and unsatisfied? Pretend your fingers are as good as mine?”

Harry made a strangled noise, fists coming up to clench in Tom’s robes.

“I am not your property,” he spat.

Tom hummed. “Of course not.” He tilted Harry’s chin up with maddening gentleness. “You’ve always been your own person. With a very pretty mouth and very bad ideas.”

“Tom—”

Tom cut him off, pressing tiny kisses to the corners of Harry’s mouth.

“I’ll make you a deal, let me take care of the problem I caused, and I’ll read over your essay, make certain you’ll receive a high mark.”

It was a tantalizing offer, he knew. Tom generally refused to assist anyone, even Harry, with schoolwork. He had high expectations for his omega and knew he was more than capable on his own. Everyone else failed to even deserve his assistance.

There was a long silence.

“...You’re the worst,” Harry finally whispered.

Tom victoriously recognized it for the submission it was and finally kissed Harry fully on the mouth, trying to reward good behavior.

Harry seemed unappreciative.

“I hate you.”

Tom smiled into the kiss. “No, you don’t.”

*

Harry stomped in front of Tom, petulantly staying a handful of steps in front of him, refusing to allow Tom to hold his hand.

The long walk from the library to the Head Boy’s quarters was filled with the kind of silence only a pissed omega was able to radiate.

Harry didn’t say a word, didn’t need to in order to communicate his irritation. The line of his shoulders was stiff with indignation, his mouth set in a scowl that had Tom smiling. His omega was clearly still furious with him, maybe feeling a bit humiliated, and certainly still hard beneath his robes.

Tom wished he could smell it, Harry’s anger was divine, but alas the high collar all students had to wear across their glands prevented any such thing from occurring.

No matter.

As soon as Tom got him alone, he could remedy the issue.

When they reached Tom’s door, Harry pushed it open with far more force than necessary. He dropped his satchel carelessly to the floor and began to undress, fumbling with the tie at his throat.

Tom quickly turned and shut the door, locking it and casting a number of charms—noise cancelation, scent blockers, privacy wards—against the wood.

As soon as he was assured there would be no interruption, Tom spun around, stalking over to Harry and knocking his fingers away from the tie.

He was making no progress anyway, the jerky, frustrated movements doing little but tightening the knot around his throat.

Tom leaned in to kiss Harry as he gently worked the knot free, nipping at his omega’s lips.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Harry mumbled against Tom’s lips, “I have a lot to do still today,”

His alpha was kissing him, hands all over his body, and Harry was still thinking of nothing except schoolwork?

Unacceptable.

“Calm down, darling. There will be plenty of time for everything.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Riddle. You’ve had your hands all over me since breakfast, and I have work to do.”

Tom slid Harry’s tie free and tucked it into his pocket before moving on to unclasp his robe and begin snapping free the buttons of his shirt.

“I always have my hands on you, Harry,” Tom pointed out, nosing at his jaw, “And yet you only complain about it when it would be most beneficial for you to take a break.”

Harry tried to recoil in indignation, but Tom just used the motion to slip the robe and shirt off Harry’s shoulders, leaving his upper half bare save for the collar.

“Beneficial!?” Harry demanded, “Beneficial, would be having the essay done! Beneficial, would be studying right now! I can’t afford to fail this class! This is my future!”

Tom sighed, ignoring the hands trying to bat his own away and reeling Harry into a makeshift hug, “Harry, you have been studying for this class nonstop for weeks. I know this is important to you, and I have absolute faith that you could take your N.E.W.T this very second and score an Outstanding. I promise a little stress relief will do no harm whatsoever. Just relax and let me help you.”

Tom could feel the slight hitching breaths shaking both their chests, a tremor he’d come to recognize as the tipping point—when Harry’s frustration had turned in on itself, no longer sharp but tight and anxious.

He brushed his fingers through Harry’s hair, gentle now, lulling him with a slow touch.

“Breathe, darling,” he said quietly. “Just breathe.”

Harry’s forehead pressed against his collarbone, and Tom could feel him trying—slow, uneven inhales through flared nostrils. The omega was seeking comfort from his alphas scent, but couldn’t find it. Not with the collars in the way.

Tom would fix that for them.

Tom’s hand slid to the back of his own neck.

Harry tensed.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Tom paused, fingers resting on the clasp. “Why not?”

“You know why.” Harry didn’t lift his head. “If I smell you, I’ll lose focus.”

“That’s the point,” Tom said gently.

“I don’t want to lose focus. I have work to—”

“You have me,” Tom interrupted, voice low. “And you’re already suffocating yourself. Just take a short break with me, everything will be fine..”

His fingers snapped the clasp free and he knew his scent would be rapidly filling the room, laying over the older scents he left behind by inhabiting the room.

Harry gasped, his body instinctively pressing in closer.

Tom buried his nose in his hair and whispered, “There we are.”

“Tom,” Harry warned, weakly. “Don’t take mine off. I mean it.”

Tom hummed, ignoring him completely. His fingers slid to Harry’s throat, brushing over the thick leather collar sitting there like a barrier. He traced the edges, slow and reverent, then dipped lower to ghost along the barely-there gland hidden underneath.

Harry’s breath hitched. He pushed at Tom’s arms, but there was no real force behind it—just the pantomime of resistance.

“You’ll go mad,” he said, voice shaking. “You always go mad when it’s off.”

Tom smiled against his skin. “So do you.”

With a practiced flick, the clasp came undone.

The moment the collar slipped free, Harry shuddered—full-bodied, helpless, swaying in Tom’s arms.

Harry had been right, of course.

The scent hit Tom like a brick wall. He pressed his nose immediately to Harry’s neck, just below the now-exposed gland, inhaling deeply like he’d been deprived for days. His hands tightened at Harry’s waist, possessive and reverent all at once.

“Harry,” he breathed. “You smell divine.”

Harry gave a strangled whimper, swaying slightly. “This is exactly why I said no.”

“And this is exactly why I never listen,” Tom growled, licking lightly over the spot just under his gland, “You’ve been working too hard for too long. You're going to take a break now.” Any other time the order would be enough to send Harry into a snapping rage, but here, surrounded with their combined scents and feeling off balance, it just sends Harry’s pupils blowing wide.

Harry went very still.

Then whispered, “You’re going to ruin me.”

Tom smiled, still mouthing at his neck, already dizzy from the pheromones coating the air between them.

“That’s the idea.”

Harry turned his face away, breathing hard through his mouth. His entire body trembled like a string pulled taut.

Tom leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips, featherlight. Then, without another word, he reached up to loosen his own green-and-silver tie.

Harry stiffened in his arms, immediately recognizing Tom’s intentions.

“No,” he said, very softly. “Don’t tie me up right now.”

His words told one story, his body another. Harry’s eyes, pupils blown wide, tracked Tom’s hands with an interest he couldn’t hide.

Tom kissed his cheek. “You’ll feel better when you stop trying to control it.”

In one swift motion, he turned Harry in his arms, pulled his wrists behind his back, and looped the silk around them. Harry gasped, arching slightly at the sudden shift in balance, and Tom took advantage, pressing flush against his back, keeping him upright with nothing more than the heat of his body and the grip he had on Harry’s wrists.

The tie wasn’t cruelly tight. Just snug enough to hold him in place.

Harry let out a long, shivering breath, body sagging against Tom as if something inside him had finally cracked.

“Good,” Tom breathed against the shell of his ear. “That’s it.”

Harry shook his head slowly, cheeks already flushed and mouth slack. “This is a bad idea.”

“I don’t have bad ideas,” Tom whispered, dragging his lips down the side of his throat.

He turned them both, walked them slowly to the bed, and gently pushed Harry in the chest when the backs of his knees bumped into the mattress. Harry crashed down on his back, further pinning his arms in place beneath his weight.

His scent was suffocating. The air in the room was thick with it, sticky and dizzying, made worse by Tom’s own now-unmasked alpha pheromones curling tightly around them both.

Harry’s head dropped backward, resting against the duvet, panting through his mouth and clearly trying to avoid scenting the air.

That wouldn’t do at all.

Tom withdrew Harry’s red and gold striped tie from his pocket and leaned over Harry to reach his head. He kissed the omega for a long moment—just enough to daze—and then made quick work of slipping the thickest part between Harry’s teeth and securing the knot behind his head.

Harry made an outraged noise and tried to buck Tom off as soon as he realized what had happened, but the smaller omega was no match for someone of Tom’s size.

Harry certainly could still pull air in and push it out through his mouth—as he was currently demonstrating with his long stream of pissed snarls—but it was a limited amount, and he’d need to use his nose to supplement, forcing him to breathe in their combined scents.

Tom mockingly stroked a hand across Harry’s cheek, enjoying the way his pupils were impossibly dilating, dominating the iris of his eyes, “Good boy. Isn’t that better?”

Harry tried to kick him in response, but the angle was too awkward for the attempt to be anything but amusing.

Tom needed Harry to cooperate for this next part, so he pinned Harry’s shoulder down with one hand and used the other to lift Harry’s chin up and away, exposing one of his glands fully.

He leaned down and gently, ever so slightly, sank his teeth into the spongy spot. He roughly dragged the flat of his tongue back and forth and then harshly sucked for a few moments.

Harry positively shrieked through the gag between his teeth, spine arching involuntarily to press their chests together, and shoulder futilely trying to climb to his ear to protect the vulnerable spot.

The explosion of Harry’s unique flavor across his tongue was always a divine experience, but the real purpose of this action was Harry’s body going entirely limp, collapsing back against the mattress as endorphins flooded his brain.

Harry would be highly upset at him when he came back to himself—he always was—but in this case, Tom needed him pliant only for a short while.

Tom straightened and paused for a brief moment, staring smugly down at his omega's blissed out face. Then, he hooked his fingers in Harry’s waistband and tugged the fabric down, working it off his hips and down his legs, a task made difficult by the friction of the mattress.

Not too difficult to manage, though. Harry was a small omega, and certainly did not weigh enough to be difficult to maneuver as Tom pleased.

Tom took his time finishing up his preparations, working Harry’s socks and shoes off, tucking a pillow beneath his hips for a better angle, and removing his own robes, shirt, and shoes.

He paused occasionally, savoring the sight of his dazed omega. His eyes were half lidded, blinking long and slow every few moments. His head lolled off to one side, baring the scent gland enticingly. Tom would bet every knut in his vault that the omega had no clue he was emitting a constant, tiny, breathless whine.

Tom wanted to lick that sound from his mouth.

But he had other plans.

He contented himself with stroking small circles into the crease of Harry’s hip, occasionally reaching up to cruelly pinch a nipple between his nails, just to watch Harry jerk.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Harry’s head slowly came back upright, and awareness filtered back into his eyes.

Regrettably, the whine ceased as his forehead creased, and then his nose scrunched in an adorable snarl. If there wasn’t something in his mouth, the omega would surely be showing off his tiny fangs.

Harry spat something, Bastard

Clearly communicated even without the ability to form words.

Tom harshly pinched the nipple he had been gently rolling in punishment and enjoyed the way Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to curl up and protect his chest—an action made impossible both by the restraints and Tom’s pinning hand.

“Still want this to be quick?” Tom asked, just to be mean, as he traced his fingers across Harry’s rib bones.

He idly noted that they felt too prominent, too close to the surface. He’d have to make Harry eat more.

Harry tried to kick at him again, and then abruptly seemed to realize he had been fully undressed while unaware, a pretty flush rapidly spreading across his face and chest.

His tiny cock stood straight up between his legs, evidence of his continued arousal.

Harry tried to cross his thigh over—shield his sex from view—but it was a hopeless endeavor with Tom standing between his legs.

Tom traced his hands down to Harry’s waist, then pulled the omega forward a few inches, until his ass was positioned right at the edge of the mattress.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

Then he dropped to his knees and took Harry fully into his mouth, lips pressed flush against his groin.

This was his favorite part of omegan anatomy. The cock on a male omega was little more than a vestigial organ. Capable of causing extensive pleasure, but serving little biological purpose. They tended to be minuscule, far, far smaller than those found on a beta or alpha.

Harry’s was near enough to the length of his pinky finger when fully erect, a size absolutely perfect to be tormented.

Tom wasted no time, pinning Harry’s thighs spread open and working his tongue roughly against the sensitive head of Harry’s cock. Every few seconds he tightened his lips around the shaft and pulled back an inch or two, sucking as harshly as he could.

Above him, Harry thrashed as best he could, wriggling against the silk sheets and letting out breathless, overwhelmed sobs.

Tom waited until Harry’s back bowed and his whines took on a sharp quality before abruptly releasing him from his mouth and sitting back on his heels, denying Harry the release he had been hurtling towards.

Harry’s noises turned angry, and he thrashed anew, this time more angry than desperate to escape stimulation.

Tom stood briefly to stare condescendingly down at his omega, reaching up to pat gently at his hip, “You just wanted to come and then get back to studying, right?”

The question was rhetorical, of course, what with the gag preventing Harry from responding.

Harry glared balefully back at him.

Tom just happily grinned back. “We’ll do it your way,” He dragged his hand across to Harry’s groin, briefly gripping his cock in one hand and thumbing roughly across the head, “You’ll get off. Just not when you want to.”

Tom had to bring his other hand up to help hold Harry’s hips down, the omega now yelling at him behind the gag and trying to throw himself upright.

It wouldn’t work, of course, but oh, how Tom liked to watch him struggle.

When Harry had settled down enough to be restrained with one hand, Tom let the other trace down, past where Harry’s balls would be if he was a beta or alpha, and into the wet heat of his cunt.

Merlin, he was soaking.

Tom spent a moment tracing around the slick folds with his nail before tracking up to the top of the slit, searching around until he found the little nub.

He pressed two fingers firmly to Harry’s clit and rubbed for a few seconds, eliciting a fresh round of whines. But it felt too smooth. Harry’s arousal had produced too much slick and the slide against his clit was slick and easy.

Far too easy.

Both Tom and Harry preferred when his pleasure came with an edge.

Tom stepped away momentarily, plucking up his discarded shirt and then rubbing it across Harry’s core, using the cotton to wipe away the excess slick from his folds.

Much better.

Tom tossed the now slick shirt away and returned his fingers to Harry’s clit, pleased when the pads of his fingers now dragged against the skin instead of sliding across it.

Harry’s stomach muscles jerked with the increase in friction, and his hips tried to twist away. Tom just moved his hand from Harry’s hip to his lower stomach and pressed him down more firmly.

Harry’s struggles only encourage Tom, and he uses his thumb to gently push up the hood that protects the nub. Tom mercilessly flicked his fingers against the exposed clit, occasionally changing his rhythm to press down and rub.

Harry’s thighs squeeze against his own legs, desperately trying to protect his most sensitive areas from the torment they are receiving. Tom watches Harry’s face closely, and when it begins to scrunch again, when his whimpers edge a little too closely to keening, Tom again withdraws his fingers, already laughing as Harry realizes he’s been denied again.

The omega seems to be running out of energy to fight; instead of trying to kick out at Tom this time, he just collapses back onto the bed, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.

The plaintive whines escaping from between his teeth would be enough to sway almost anyone to give him whatever he wanted.

Not Tom, though.

Not when he was doing this for Harry.

“Soon, darling.” Tom soothes Harry, petting his thighs until Harry calms down, hips no longer chasing tiny circles in the air.

Harry's pupils were blown wide, eyes looking larger than life with their tear-soaked eyelashes. Harry was clearly out of it, drunk on the pheromones in the air.

That was sufficient.

Now, Tom wanted to hear him.

So he reached up to stroke across Harry’s cheek and then slip behind his head to free the knot.

It took Harry several long moments to realize the gag was out and he could speak, but as soon as he did, he started pleading.

“Tom, please—please—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Tom murmured, crouching down to press kisses to his inner thigh, “You’re doing beautifully.”

He grazed his teeth along the underside of Harry’s cock and the boy screamed body arching like a bowstring.

Tom once again returned to Harry’s core, but this time he bypassed the clit and delved directly into the folds. They are slick again, a byproduct of the stimulation to Harry’s clit.

He slipped two fingers directly into his hole, immediately searching around, pressing against the walls in search of that spot.

He knew he’d found it when Harry jolted forward, hiccuping pleas pausing as he gasped for air.

“There we are.” Tom grinned and focused his attention on that spot, stroking against velvety walls and imagining the wet heat clamping around his cock instead of his fingers.

But there will be time enough for that later.

Once again, he waited until Harry drew taught, core muscles tightening, before he stilled. He left his fingers in Harry, but knows that the simple weight will not be enough to push Harry over the edge.

Harry thrashed his head back and forth against the sheets, “Please—please—let me—please.”

Tom grins down at the gorgeous sight of his omega coming completely undone beneath him. Eventually, Harry calms down enough to form a coherent thought and spits out, bitingly, “I hate you.”

Bold words for someone in such a vulnerable position.

Tom stripped his fingers free from Harry’s hole, drew his hand back, and then swung it forward, slapping the flat of his fingers against Harry’s pussy.

The omega shrieked and flailed, but Tom had predicted this and easily held the boy down. He rained several more blows down, the wet slapping noise echoing through the small room. Harry tried to kick at him, to close his thighs, but he was helpless to escape the assault.

“No, you don’t.” Tom finally responded to Harry’s biting remark, pausing in his strikes to pet against the swollen flesh of Harry’s sex.

But he quickly decided it was not nearly swollen and red enough.

Usually he’d alternate slaps to Harry’s ass, thighs, and cunt, but in this position the only accessible skin is that of his pussy.

He returned to spanking Harry’s core, determined to make it so Harry won’t be able to breathe without thinking of him for at least a week. The tears have started anew, leaking hot and endless down Harry’s flushed red cheeks.

His begging words have devolved into a single, high-pitched whine, only briefly changing tone to hiccup whenever a slap lands particularly harshly.

Tom carried on until Harry finally fell completely limp, no longer fighting against him, and sounds dying down to breathless gasps.

Tom’s hand was soaked, covered in a layer of Harry’s slick.

“There we go. Good boy.” Tom’s hand returned to Harry’s cunt, but this time he just pets gently across the folds for a few moments, enjoying the broken whine that escaped from Harry’s chest, and the spasming twitches of his thighs.

It’s time for a reward, Tom thought.

He crouched down until his face was level with Harry’s crotch, and then dove in, burying his nose into Harry’s folds and deeply inhaling.

Divine.

He withdrew slightly and then stuck his tongue out, licking a long, flat stripe up the crease of Harry’s cunt.

When he reached the top, he fashioned his tongue into a point and then searched through the folds until he found Harry’s clit. He clamped his lips around the nub and started flicking his tongue back and forth as quickly as he could.

Harry’s thighs clamped down around his head, and Tom knew that if he was able to, Harry would have two painful fistfuls of Tom's hair clenched in his hands.

This time, when Tom feels Harry’s orgasm approach, he doesn’t stop, if anything he increases his pace, shoving Harry over the edge with brutal precision.

Harry’s orgasm is explosive, he nearly folds in two despite the awkward position, curling in on himself and audibly sobbing as he shakes apart. Tom slows his pace but licks him through it, gently lapping at Harry’s clit.

When Harry starts coming down, relaxing out of his curled posture, Tom still doesn’t stop.

Harry tries to buck his hips away as the stimulation fades from pleasant to grating on his sensitive nerves, “Tom, it’s too much—please,”

Tom momentarily pulls his grinning face away from Harry’s crotch, “I know.”

Then he delves back in, nibbling along the painfully swollen lips of Harry’s labia. Then he goes so far so to slide two fingers back into Harry’s hole, immediately scissoring them around, intent on stretching Harry out quickly.

It doesn’t take long before Harry is rolling his hips in encouragement instead of escape, and Tom rewards him by sinking lower and slipping his tongue into that slick, warm hole as best he can with his hand in the way.

Harry hisses in pleasure and tries to shift backwards, to take more of Tom’s tongue into his body.

Only moments later, Harry is coming again, this time more violently spasming on Tom’s fingers and tongue.

And yet, Tom still doesn't stop.

He keeps his mouth lapping at Harry’s core until the omega is openly sobbing, begging, fighting in a desperate attempt to both chase and escape the unbearable pleasure.

Tom forces him into two more mind shattering orgasms before he finally sits back on his heels, chin soaking with Harry’s slick.

Harry is gasping for air above him, breathless and limp against the now filthy sheets.

Tom is the only one to see Harry like this. The only one who will ever bring Harry to such heights of pleasure.

He can never get enough of this.

Tom rises, finally discarding the last of his own clothing and crawling onto the bed with his omega. He takes a brief moment to stroke his own neglected erection but he'd rather derive his pleasure from the warm body beside him.

Tom situates himself sitting up against the headboard and then reaches down, grabbing Harry by the armpits and dragging him up the bed until he sits between Tom’s legs, back pressed to his chest.

He reaches down and gives Harry’s soft little cock a few strokes, but decides to take mercy on him when Harry gives a pitiful mewl and jerks against his chest.

“It hurts—no more—I can’t—please.”

His pleas have devolved into nonsensible fragments. Too bad Tom isn’t done with Harry yet.

But he is nothing if not merciful, and he will allow Harry a break.

“It’s alright darling, settle down.” Tom speaks gently to him, as though soothing a wild animal. Harry resembled a wild animal with all that whimpering and thrashing about.

Tom lets Harry press his face into Tom’s neck, nose pressed firmly to his own scent glands. He knows it must be terribly confusing to the omegas senses, to be deriving comfort from his alpha who is also his tormentor.

He adores it.

There is nothing else like this thrill of power and pleasure.

He lets Harry hide there for several long minutes, until his heart rate slows down and his breaths even out.

When he finally grows too impatient to wait any longer, he tugs Harry fully into his lap, so the omega is sitting on top of his legs, not just between them.

Harry groans in despair when he feels Tom's erection sliding between his legs. Tom only grins into the side of his neck.

“Please, Tom, I can’t—”

“You can. You will.”

In a single smooth motion, Tom lifts Harry and sinks him down, fully seating him on his cock. A single punched out whine erupts from Harry’s chest, and he throws his head back against Tom’s shoulder.

The break has helped, but it’s clear the omega is still far too sensitive, and Tom did not stretch him near enough for the sudden penetration to be fully pleasant.

Tom, on the other hand, is in heaven

The tight, slick heat wrapped around his cock makes him want to yell in victory. He settles for sinking his teeth into the meat of Harry’s neck, mercifully avoiding his swollen scent glands.

He usually has more restraint than this, but the combination of how long it's been since they last had sex and how long Tom has been drawing pleasure from Harry makes this a feral affair.

He sinks deep, deep within Harry on the very first thrust, and then wastes no time, planting his feet against the bed and slamming up against Harry’s ass.

The strength of his grip against Harry’s waist is sure to leave finger print shaped bruises, but he can hardly care about that right now.

He lifts Harry off his cock in one second, and slams him down the next, thrusting up to meet the motion. He does this again, and again, each time eliciting a delicious sob or gasp or whine from the omega in his lap.

The only thing Tom loves more than watching Harry’s pleasure, is feeling it, so he sacrifices some of the leverage he has on Harry to move a hand from his waist to his tiny cock.

Like this, Tom can easily wrap his hand fully around the length, encompassing it in a warm cocoon. His hand is no longer wet from Harry’s slick, and though it shortly will be wet from precome these first dry strokes must be torture against Harry’s overspent cock.

He knows he’s right by the way Harry’s insides clamp down on Tom’s cock and he howls trying to fold over in Tom’s grip.

Tom can’t have that, now can he?

He shifts the hand that had been holding Harry’s hip to instead cross over his waist and lower chest, now able to both restrain and pull Harry back to meet his thrusts.

Then he shifts his legs to the insides of Harry’s and then lifts and spreads them, trapping Harry open and exposed to his torment.

Harry starts crying anew when Tom begins roughly rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, occasionally pausing to dip his nail into the slit.

“Hurt—too much—please.”

“You like it.” Tom murmurs into his omega's ear, licking along the shell of his ear.

Harry comes first, insides rippling against Tom’s cock and a tiny, sad leakage of spend from his cock.

Tom is helpless to resist following after his omega, but he does pull back just in time to avoid allowing his knot to catch inside Harry’s rim. He comes deep inside Harry, and enjoys the gentle aftershocks caused by softly rolling his hips as his length softens inside his omega.

When Harry realizes he hasn’t been knotted, he makes a plaintive, confused noise.

Tom just smiles at the back of his head. “Don’t worry Harry. All in due time.”

It takes Harry’s sluggish brain several moments to catch up with the implications of that statement, but when he does he’s instantly shaking his head against Tom’s neck.

“I can’t.”

“I’m telling you to, so you can.” It comes out sounding more smug than he had intended, but it’s true nonetheless.

“No, Tom, I can’t, I’m done.”

“Mm—” Tom hums, mouthing against the side of Harry’s jaw, “I know that’s a lie because you can still talk.”

He’d never released Harry’s cock from his grip, and he started fondling it anew, rolling the soft flesh back and forth in his hand, squeezing and releasing the length.

Harry’s squeal was music to his ears as his heels kicked and scrambled at the sheets. His spine arched but there was nowhere for him to go.

It would take Tom a much longer time to be ready to go again, the refractory period of alphas significantly higher than that of omegas.

It was a good thing he had a fantastic way to entertain himself as they waited.

Tom switched back and forth from fondling Harry’s cock to flicking at his clit. Each time he touched either area he was rewarded with Harry’s internal muscles clamping down around him, slowly massaging him back into hardness.

This truly was a delightful way to spend a weekend afternoon.

Tom was able to wring several more agonizing orgasms from Harry’s body before his own length hardened enough to allow him to resume thrusting.

He did so far more gently this time, more massaging his way into Harry than bullying his rim into submission, this time.

Harry wasn’t nearly as appreciative as he should have been for this mercy.

He was kind, and stayed away from Harry’s cock and clit, instead angling each thrust to scrape past that spongy spot on the inside of Harry’s walls.

Harry barely managed a weak clench and a wet gasp each time Tom bumped into it.

This orgasm built slowly, gently, over a long period of time, aided by the gentle rocking of Tom’s hips. Harry fell past his edge with a silent scream, full body seizing up and nothing but a tiny strangled cry escaping his lips.

The soft walls surrounding Tom’s cock barely managed to clench anymore, just fluttering around him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to help push Tom to his own end.

Tom used his leverage to flip them over, rolling heavily on top of his omega.

He kneeled up slightly, drawing Harry’s hips up with him in order to allow him to press as deep as possible into the slick heat.

He bullied his quickly filling knot in and out of Harry’s hole several times, savoring the way the muscle seemed to both fight to keep him out and never let him leave.

Each time his knot forced past Harry’s rim or popped free the omega let out a wet puff of air, seemingly the most noise he was capable of anymore.

Finally, finally, he pressed in as deep as he could go, cockhead pressing firmly up against Harry’s cervix and knot swelling to lock him in place.

Tom would have liked to draw one more orgasm from Harry, but he truly seemed thoroughly spent this time, with his cheek pressed to the silk sheets, panting wetly through his mouth. His cheeks were stained with rivers of dried and fresh tears and his eyes were glazed and empty.

No, there was nothing to be gained from further torture to the omegas spent body.

Tom pressed a few open mouthed kisses to Harry’s neck and jaw as he waited out the last waves of his orgasm.

Finally, he himself was spent, and pulled Harry gently into his arms, tugging free the knot restraining the omega's wrists, and rolling them onto their sides so he didn’t crush the much smaller boy beneath himself.

Harry usually slept for at least 12 hours after a session like this. He’d be pissed when he woke up, but that was alright.

Tom hadn’t been lying, earlier.

Harry would pass the class he was stressed about with flying colors, whether he studied for a minute more or not.

But Tom was the perfect alpha. He would read over Harry’s essay as promised, and finish it up too, all before Harry woke up.

Tom stroked across Harry’s forehead, brushing the sticky curls away from his skin.

Harry sleepily grumbled at him, lifting one of his hands to bat Tom’s away.

“Worst alpha.” Harry drowsily hissed at him

Tom kissed the nape of his neck.

“Best omega.”

He meant it.