Lucius Malfoy x Fem!Reader
content warnings: graphic smut, caught in the act, strong language, age gap
summary: You and Draco have been dating for two years. The first year was great, but then things began to decline. He had longer hours at work, less time for you, barely looked your way anymore. Your final straw was him standing you up on your second anniversary, and you turn to his father for comfort.
You had been sitting at the restaurant alone for two hours when you finally gave up hope - he wasn't coming.
Flagging down the waiter, you asked for the bill, unshed tears burning behind your eyes. This is the last time he humiliates me like this, You vowed silently, paying for the bottle and a half of wine you'd managed to finish while waiting. You scribbled your signature on the receipt, tipping the waiter handsomely, then grabbed your purse and coat, quickly exiting the restaurant.
The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin as you stepped into an alley and apparated, landing in front of Malfoy Manor. You stormed up the steps, closing the large front door harder than necessary behind you, letting your back come to rest against the cool wood for a moment. A single tear fell, which you furiously scrubbed from your cheek. No! You told yourself. I'll not cry over him - not again.
You removed your heels, holding them in your hand as you stepped quietly through the house, making your way to the room you'd shared with Draco for the past year. The two of you had been together since your last year at Hogwarts, and today was supposed to be your two year anniversary. You had the entire night planned, fine dining and fun, but it was all ruined now. You knew he'd been busy at work lately, but he hadn't even bothered to call.
Fury was too tame a word to describe the level of anger and humiliation you felt. As you walked through the kitchen, you set your bag and shoes down on the island and poured a glass of water for yourself. You caught your reflection in the smooth chrome of the basin - you'd gotten your hair done, your nails done, you'd gotten waxed, bought a new dress, new shoes, had your makeup professionally done - all for nothing.
With an incensed cry, you threw the glass into the sink, where it shattered and sprayed water all over you. A shard rebounded off of the metal, slicing your hand, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Instead you sunk to the floor, back against the cupboards, hugging your knees to your chest, and cried. Sobs heaved from your chest, a mix of heartbreak, anger, and embarrassment, and you knew this was it - your final straw.
You'd forgiven Draco for many shortcomings, but this one took the cake. Never had he mortified you so thoroughly - of course the Malfoys were a well-known family, and you had been roped into the craziness of their publicity from the moment you'd started dating Draco. The Daily Prophet had done a piece on your first anniversary, which Draco had gone all-out for, so when your second anniversary began to approach everyone wondered if it would be as grand as the first.
No doubt Rita Skeeter would write some melodramatic piece about the poor girl who got stood up on her anniversary now, and no doubt everyone would read it. You'd be a laughingstock to all those who didn't pity you.
The sounds of your sobs seemed to echo throughout the vast silence of the open kitchen, your tears falling in fat droplets down your cheeks and dripping onto the dark green fabric of your dress, now sopping wet from the water that had splashed on you. The expensive silk clung to your legs uncomfortably, the cold chill of the marbled tile seeping through the fabric, your forehead pressed to your knees like they could hide your shame.
Then, you heard the soft, deliberate click of expensive shoes stepping across the floor. You didn't look up - there was only one other person who lived here aside from you and Draco:
Your throat tightened painfully, another burning wave of mortification washing over you, and your sobs grew heavier. You had endured two ignominious hours of waiting at that damned restaurant, endured the pitying stares of other patrons and the wind-carried whispers from mouths hidden behind menus, endured the creeping certainty that Draco wasn't coming as you had glass after glass of wine. You had endured until you broke, and now here you were - drunk, disheveled, and bleeding on the kitchen floor like some tragic parody of yourself.
Lucius witnessing you like this was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae that this night had become.
The footsteps drew nearer, then stopped, and you heard him gasp sharply. You didn't look at him, didn't lift your head, just curled up more tightly, like you could vanish entirely if you just made yourself small enough. You couldn't bear to see the look on his face as his eyes swept the scene - the shards of shattered crystal in the sink, the water sprayed all over the marble countertops, the bright red droplets of blood against the smooth chrome of the basin, and you, on the floor.
You heard the swish of his robes, felt the warmth of his body as he crouched down beside you, flinched as his hand gingerly took yours, turning your palm upwards. You kept your face buried behind your knees, but you could feel the delicate swipe of a handkerchief wiping away the blood that slicked your skin.
"Great Salazar, woman," He muttered, his voice tight with alarm as you felt the tip of his wand gently touch your palm. "Episkey."
You hissed softly at the searing sting of your wound pulling itself closed, but within seconds the pain had dulled, then faded to nothing. Though your sobs had dwindled to sniffles and hiccups, you still didn't lift your head; you didn't want to see the pity - or worse, contempt - that you were certain you'd find if you met his eyes.
But his voice broke through the silence at last. Low, smooth, gentler than you'd expected. "Y/N," He began, still holding your hand, his thumb brushing slow, comforting circles on your skin.
"You don't have to say it," You cut him off, voice muffled and raw. "I already know what a spectacle I've made of myself, something I'm sure the whole of Britain will know by morning."
He squeezed your hand gently. "That isn't my concern right now, you are. What happened?"
You shook your head, biting back a sob. "It doesn't matter."
His other hand closed over yours, sandwiching it gently. "It matters to me." His tone sharpened slightly, though not in anger - in supplication. You felt him lean in closer, his voice dropping to that persuasive, silken timbre you'd always found impossible to ignore. "I see your pain, whether you name it or not. Better to let it out than quietly bleed into yourself."
Your chest tightened. "I... I waited for him, Lucius. For two hours, I waited. But he.. he never came." Your voice cracked, another tear trailing down your cheek. "He didn't call, didn't text, nothing. But I still waited, and I kept hoping - oh Salazar help me, I kept hoping he'd come sweeping in with some ridiculous excuse, that he'd kiss me and we'd enjoy supper and everything would be fine. I sat there, like a fool, while others whispered behind their menus and looked at me with pity."
Your shoulders began to shake, quiet, broken cries falling from your lips. "Have you any idea how witless I must have seemed? Rita Skeeter must be frothing at the mouth, I've no doubt she's come up with some melodramatic piece about poor, jilted Y/N, abandoned by the Malfoy heir on thier anniversary, that'll be plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet come morning."
A long, shuddering breath left your body. "I- I'm so sorry, Lucius, I.. I've stained your family's name."
For a moment there was only silence, and you feared the worst - he was going to throw you out, publicly cut ties with you, disassociate his family from you. But then he spoke, his voice sharp as a razor's edge.
"My son is the fool," He seethed. "You've made no spectacle of yourself. Draco has - this is his failing, his shame, not yours."
You finally dared to lift your head, and Lucius was close enough that you could count the long, blonde lashes framing his steely eyes. You were sure you looked a fright - damp hair clinging to your cheeks, makeup running down your face, eyes red and glassy - but if Lucius thought so, his expression didn't show it. His expression was soft, sorrowful, a current of anger towards his son simmering under the surface.
"You don't understand," You whimpered brokenly. "I'm going to be a laughingstock to anyone who doesn't pity me. They'll see me as weak, pathetic even-"
He cut you off, his tone fierce. "There will be hell to pay for anyone who dares try to laugh at you, Y/N. Of that, you can be certain." Then he softened, his hand rising from yours to brush the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "You deserved better than waiting, better than being ignored and humiliated. Better than him."
Your chest tightened again, aching with how badly you wished you could believe him. "He scarcely even looks at me anymore, Lucius," You said, your voice a broken whisper. "I tried, I kept trying, I- I did everything tonight to try to make it special, to make him see me again." You sniffled, more tears slipping from your eyes. "And he didn't even bother to show up."
"If my woman had sat at that table," He said slowly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sure you heard every word, "Dressed as you are, looking even half as radiant as you, I would have crossed oceans to meet her." His large hand rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Only an impudent fool would have done otherwise."
His words hit you like a physical blow, and your breath caught in your throat. "Lucius.." You whimpered, his comfort cooling some of the heat of your embarrassment.
He stood, offering his hands to you. "Up. You needn't stay crumpled on the floor, it's no place for a lady."
Your hands slipped into his and he pulled you to your feet, the room swaying slightly as you stood. He took a moment to steady you before snapping his fingers loudly, and a House Elf appeared, eyes lowered. "Y/N needs fresh clothing. Dry, soft, nothing cumbersome."
The Elf disappeared for a moment, returning a moment later with neatly folded pajamas, holding them up in offering. Lucius took them, guiding you to the washroom adjoining his study, ushering you inside. "Go, compose yourself. I'll wait in my study."
You stepped into the washroom, nodding graciously as he closed the door behind you, but one look in the gilded vanity mirror cracked your composure all over again. Your cheeks were stained with mascara, your delicate pin-up hairdo now frizzed and damp, the front of your dress darker where the fabric had gotten wet, your lipstick smeared and faded from chewing on your lips. Fresh tears burned your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away as you peeled yourself out of the ruined dress, stripping off your bra and slipping into the soft cotton pajama set - a cropped, dove grey t shirt, with matching shorts.
Grabbing a cloth, you turned on the water and washed the remnants of makeup from your face, then carefully unpinned your hair, combing through it with your fingers. Once you felt less like a drowned swamp creature, you emerged from the washroom, stepping into the study.
Lucius stood when you entered, walking over to meet you and led you to the plush sofa near the fireplace, guiding you to the seat with a kind of courtly patience. "Drink?" He asked, and you nodded. With a flick of his wand, two crystal glasses appeared and filled with amber liquid, and he passed one to you as he sat next to you, leaving several inches of space between you.
The burn of the liquor grounded you, the taste - spicy and expensive - lingering on your tongue. You exhaled shakily, your eyes fixed on the fire, but Lucius's gaze never left you.
"My son's failure," He said, breaking the silence, "Is not your own. You must understand that, Y/N. He has proven himself to be unworthy of you - your loyalty, your beauty, your devotion."
"My beauty?" You scoffed lightly. "What beauty? My face is a mess, my hair is ruined, I-"
"And yet, you are still radiant," He cut you off, gently but with conviction. You turned your head toward him, watching as his eyes flicked over you with something akin to reverence. "Even undone, with tears streaking your cheeks. Draco's neglect reflects only upon him, not upon you. You are not diminished by his failures; if anything, you shine all the more brightly against his shadow."
"Not diminished?" You asked, somewhat bitterly. "I sat there like a lovestruck fool waiting for a prince, only to be left alone. Everyone saw it, they'll be talking about it for weeks."
His eyes met yours. "Let them talk, words from the envious have never tarnished what is truly beautiful."
Your hand gripped your glass tighter as you shook your head. "I'm not beautiful, I look like something discarded."
"You look exquisite," He said smoothly.
"Even with ruined hair and mascara running down my face?"
"Yes. Rare beauty such as yours is not painted on, it shines through - you could be undone, disheveled, and still light up any room you walk into."
You swallowed, your throat tight. "If that were true, he would have come," You replied sadly.
Something dangerous flickered across Lucius's features before he smoothed it away. "Were he not such a fool, and had an ounce of good sense, he would have. His failure does not erase your worth, Y/N. It only reveals his blindness."
You looked away, back at the fire, to escape the weight of his gaze. "You regard me as if I'm some sort of goddess."
"And why shouldn't you be regarded as one?" He asked, and your eyes flew back to his.
"A goddess wouldn't get stood up at a restaurant."
"A goddess," Lucius countered, his voice silken, "Is radiant regardless of who does or does not appear. And any man worth the air he consumes would never dare neglect her." He paused, his eyes holding yours for a long moment, suggesting a deeper meaning to his words. "You deserve a man who will not only see you, but cherish you - a man who will protect and adore you. I've long wondered if my son was capable of such a thing." His voice dropped lower, hushed, like he was confessing a secret. "I know I am."
You went quiet for a moment, looking at the glass of amber whisky in your hand and taking a long, slow sip. Then your eyes met his again, the firelight warming his handsome patrician features in shades of gold. You shifted to face him, settling in a few inches closer, close enough that your knee brushed his. "Your words... well, they hardly sound like something you'd say only to ease a woman's wounded pride." Your tone was soft, cautious, but threaded with something sharper underneath.
Lucius inclined his head slightly. "They are truths," He replied, low and deliberate. "That my son has been too oblivious and impertinent to see."
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but you suddenly felt quite brazen. Your voice was soft, tentative, but carried a challenge. "And... what do you see, Lucius?"
He regarded you in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable save for the faintest tug of a smirk playing on his lips. Then he leaned closer, his voice pitched low enough that it felt like it belonged to you alone. "I see a woman whose elegance demands attention, whose presence alone could silence a room. I see beauty," He paused, his gaze sweeping over your face, lingering on your lips before meeting yours once more, "That tempts a man in ways he could scarcely admit aloud."
His breaths were slow, deliberate, and you felt as if the fire itself could not compete with the heat that threading in the space between the two of you at that moment.
"Tempts a man how?" You breathed, your pulse quickening.
He inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. "You tempt him," He murmured, voice threaded with heat, "To imagine the feel of your skin beneath his hands... the taste of your mouth when he finally dares to claim it." He finished his drink, setting the crystal glass down on the coffee table before leaning a fraction of an inch closer, close enough that you could feel his breath caress your cheek. "You tempt him to picture you close - so close, he can breathe nothing but you - and still be left starving for more. You tempt him," He leaned his lips close to your ear, "To forget reason... to cast aside restraint and risk everything, for even the smallest taste of what it would be to have you."
You felt a shiver run down your spine as he leaned back slightly, breath catching and heart hammering so loudly you were certain he could hear it. The fire crackling was the only sound as you shifted closer, brushing your leg against his, a sudden recklessness stirring in your chest.
You finished your own drink, setting the glass beside his before raising your hand, fingers ghosting along the lapels of his robes, toying idly as though you needed something to occupy your trembling hands. You didn't quite meet his gaze, instead watching the way your fingers brushed the dark fabric, the weight of your pulse quickening in your throat. "And what," You said softly, almost absently, "Do you think I would feel like?"
A small, coy smile tugged at your lips as you finally lifted your eyes back to his, looking at him through your lashes. "What do you think I would taste like, Lucius?"
He stared at you for a moment as though you had struck the very breath from his chest, his eyes flicking to your lips, his hand reaching up and gently brushing your cheek. "What I would give to know..." He murmured, his eyes meeting yours once more, dark and stormy.
You leaned closer still, your lips inches from his. "Why don't you find out?"
His inhale was sharp, and his jaw clenched as if he were physically restraining himself. "You tread dangerous waters, little witch," He muttered, a warning laced with something darker, enticing.
A smile blossomed across your lips, daring and bold, and you tilted your face up toward his. "I've always found danger to be quite... thrilling."
The ghost of a moan slipped from his lips, hovering a breath apart from yours. "And what of Draco?"
Your eyes went molten. "What of him?" You breathed sharply in retort. Your fingers clenched his lapels, emboldened by his nearness. "You told me that I deserved better, deserved to be cherished... Why don't you show me what that feels like?"
"And if he returns home and... happens upon us?"
"Then let it be a lesson to him, to show him how to properly care for a woman."
With a low, gutteral sound that was equal parts growl and groan Lucius closed the distance, his mouth claiming your with a ferocity that betrayed just how long he'd held himself back. His lips were demanding and hungry, stealing the breath from your lungs as his hands, too, abandoned their restraint, one resting at the nape of your neck as his other arm snaked around your waist. With no hesitation, he tugged you onto his lap, your legs resting on either side of his hips, the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers pressing squarely into your heat.
You gasped into the kiss, a soft whimper at the sudden friction against your most sensitive area, and he greedily swallowed the sound. For the first time in what felt like forever you didn't feel alone or abandoned, you felt wanted - every brush of his lips, every desperate tilt of his mouth, was declaration of it.
Your fingers fisted the expensive fabric of his robes, holding tightly as though afraid he might pull away as he shifted beneath you, his tongue sweeping your mouth like it was always his to claim, deepening the kiss until it was no longer just a meeting of lips but a consuming hunger. Another broken sound slipped from your throat - half whimper, half moan - which only spurred him on, his grip tightening on your hips like he might never let you go.
When at last he pulled back, it wasn't to retreat - his lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your throat, where your pulse fluttered wildly beneath the delicate skin. "Salazar help me, Y/N," He muttered, his voice low and rough against your skin. "If you only knew the restraint it's taken not to do this sooner..."
"I wish you had," You groaned, your head falling back as his lips devoured your skin.
Whatever thin thread of composure he had clung to snapped with a feral, low sound that vibrated against your throat. His hands, no longer gentle, claimed you with a certainty that left no doubt about his intent - one hand pressed you against him more firmly, forcing you to feel the evidence of his desire straining against the fine cut fabric of his trousers, while the other traced from your jaw to your torso, his long, elegant fingers splaying posessively over your chest as though he was marking what was his.
"You have no idea," He murmured darkly against your skin, "How many times I watched my son squander your devotion..." His hand trailed under your shirt, gripping your breast as his teeth grazed your collar. "Knowing, that I could make you feel more, better, than he ever could."
You moaned as his fingers toyed with your nip, his words dark as sin and hot as fire as he continued. "How many nights I had imagined this... You, pliant in my arms... your taste on my tongue... the sweet sound of you-" He punctuated his words with a nip at your throat, earning a whine from you. "-breaking, for me."
Almost without meaning to you felt your hips rock against him, desperate for friction, touching your forehead to his as your fingers tangled in his white-blonde hair. "Lucius..."
The sound of his name falling from your lips, half plea, half provocation, nearly unravelled him. He seized your mouth again, rougher this time, deeper, urging you closer, harder, his tongue sweeping in to taste you as his hand left your chest to grab the back of your thigh, rocking you against him. The friction left you crying out into his mouth, sounds he drank down like wine, his grip tightening as he ground you against him harder.
Breaking the kiss again, he trailed his lips to your ear, his voice husky. "Tell me to stop, and I will... But if you don't, right now, I won't be able to stop myself from what I'm about to do to you."
He pulled back, and you looked at him with dark eyes. "Good," You whispered. "Don't."
That was the final blow. He captured your lips again, kissing you like he intended to devour every last breath from your lungs. His fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head, tossing it aside as he hungrily took in the sight of your bare chest.
"Exquisite," He murmured, lowering his mouth to your sensitive nip, tongue circling, teeth grazing, lips worshipping until you were arching into him, a helpless sound escaping your throat as you rocked against him. His free hand slipped lower, lower, slowly tracing along your inner thigh, deliberately torturing you, until his fingers finally pressed against your heat. The thin fabric of your panties and pajama shorts did little to conceal how ready for him you were, in fact you'd long since soaked through both.
He slipped his hand into your shorts, pushing aside the fabric of your panties, his fingers slipping between the raw folds of your slick heat. Your head fell back, a loud cry ripping from your lips as his his fingers stroked, teased, dragged you closer to the edge with every careful, deft movement.
Your fingers fisted in his silken hair, tugging him closer as you moved your hips desperately against his hand. "Lucius, please..."
The sound of his name on your lips in that tone - the plea, the abandon, the desperation - snapped what little restraint he had left. His arm hooked around you, lifting you effortlessly, flipping you into your back as he held himself above you. His eyes locked on yours as he pulled away your soaked shorts and panties, his voice hoarse with desire. "I will show you," He promised, "How to be adored properly. How to be ruined and treasured, at the same time."
His lips found your thigh, your leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth travelled up, higher, stopping just shy of your throbbing core. He looked at you devilishly, pausing, and you looked at him, confused. "Lucius, wha-"
His mouth locked on to you mid-sentence and a strangled cry forced its way from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushions, your back arching as his tongue swirled circles around your clit. One of his hands grabbed your wrists, pinning your hands to your stomach as he devoured you, the other slipping two fingers inside of you, beckoning slowly at first, then faster, until you were delirious with pleasure.
You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, the knot in your stomach beginning to build as Lucius consumed you. Every stroke of his tongue and fingers was pulling you apart, piece by piece; your thighs trembled against his shoulders, your voice breaking on his name as you arched into his mouth.
"That's it, little witch," He murmured against you, lips wet with your essence, voice decadent and rough, his fingers curling faster. "Give in for me, sweet girl. Show me how badly you've needed this."
Your back bowed so violently you felt it crack as the dam broke, a wail spilling from your throat as stars clouded your vision, shattering, trembling, as Lucius coaxed you through it, drinking down every last shudder. You collapsed back onto the cushions, flushed and gasping, as he rose above you. He pulled his fingers out of you, cleaning your climax off of them with his mouth before kissing you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
"Lucius," You whimpered into the kiss, your hands pulling at his robes with desperate need. "Please, I- I need..."
He silenced you with another searing kiss, and with a wave of his wand, his clothes were on the floor. His arm slid beneath you, lifting you effortlessly back onto his lap, straddling him once more, this time nothing between you. His length, hot and hard, pressed against your entrance, and the low groan that escaped him was feral.
"I should resist you," He gasped, dragging the thick head of his member through your slick folds, tormenting you both with the tease. "But Salazar help me, I cannot."
Your nails dug into his shoulders, your voice needy and desperate. "Then don't," You breathed. "Don't resist me."
That was all it took. With a gutteral sound, Lucius pulled you down onto him, thrusting himself into you in one deep, claiming stroke. Your scream filled the room as your walls stretched around his impressive size, his grip bruising on your hips as he buried himself to the hilt.
"Perfect," He growled against your throat, sinking his teeth into your skin. "You feel perfect."
He gave you no time to adjust before setting a relentless rhythm, driving into you with each thrust, every stroke a blend of ravenous hunger and worship. His lips dragged over your skin, biting, marking, kissing, as if to brand you as his. You clung to him, nails raking down his arms, his name falling from your lips in shattered gasps like a prayer.
"Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?" He groaned between gritted teeth, his voice wrecked with desire. "To be cherished like this? Claimed like this?"
"Yes, Lucius- oh, Salazar, yes!" You cried, meeting his thrusts with equal desperation.
Draco froze in the threshold, his voice catching, his face draining of colour as his wide eyes took in the sight before him - his father, buried deep inside his woman, your body writhing in ecstasy, crying out his father's name.
Lucius didn't stop, didn't even slow, just continued with his relentless pace as Draco stood there, his face a taut mask of fury, jaw tight, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Father! Y/N!" His voice came out a strangled cry. "What in Salazar's name-"
"You've squandered her devotion for months, Draco," Lucius snapped, cutting him off, slowing his pace a bit as he eyed his son with contempt. He pulled your body against his, as if shielding it from the boy, something no longer his to see. "You had every opportunity to cherish her, adore her, to see to it that she was never left wanting. You failed."
Draco's fists trembled at his sides, rage radiating from him, but he was powerless to intervene. Lucius trailed his fingers up your back, a gentle reminder you'd not be neglected again.
"Father, this- this is unacceptable!" He seethed. "You can't do this, Y/N-"
"I'll do as I please," Lucius interrupted, his voice icy. "As will she."
He began to thrust harder, faster, the sound of your cries and his hips slapping into yours filling the space. His voice, low and smooth, vibrated against your ear.
"Do you feel that, sweet girl?" He murmured. "Every cry, every shiver... this is what you were meant to receive. To be worshipped, cherished, never ignored."
You gasped, tilting your head back as you arched into him, clinging to his shoulders. "Lucius... please," You whimpered, feeling a knot forming, low in your stomach.
He growled, teeth grazing the sensitive pulse at your neck, lips tracing along your jaw, every kiss and nip deliberate, demanding. Your body trembled under him, shuddering with every perfect, punishing thrust, and your cries only seemed to drive him faster. He watched the way your body pressed into his, your hands clutching at him, lips parting in ragged gasps as you rode him.
He let his eyes meet Draco's, pale and stunned at the threshold. "Take note, Draco," He said, voice low and dangerous, "This is what it looks like to truly cherish a woman. Every touch, every movement... this is how she deserves to be treated."
You cried out his name again, fingers threading through his silver hair as he lifted you slightly, grinding into you, claiming you fully, and he pressed a rough, searing kiss to your lips that stole your breath. You arched, shuddering, helpless in his lap, and he whispered against your mouth. "Do you feel how much you're wanted? How much you're needed?"
Draco's jaw tightened, his fists clenched, but he remained frozen, unable to leave or avert his eyes. And Lucius, still in complete control, continued to drive into you, each stroke a blend of worship and hunger, proving in every deliberate movement exactly what it meant to treasure a woman.
"Father, this... this is-" Draco stammered, but Lucius cut him off, voice low, dangerous.
"I suggest you leave," He said smoothly. "Your presence is not welcome here."
With a final glare, Draco stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The echo of his anger faded, leaving the room warm and charged, the only sound your shaky breaths as Lucius thrust into you slowly. He growled, teeth grazing the sensitive pulse at your neck, lips tracing along your jaw, every kiss and nip deliberate, demanding.
Then he began to quicken again, his hands gripping your hips, fingers digging in as he thrust into you with a controlled, punishing rhythm that made you cry out, arching hard against him. Your body trembled, every nerve alight with the combination of pleasure and the electric shame of Draco having seen you riding his father.
"Look at you, sweet girl..." He murmured against your lips, teeth grazing your jaw. "So perfect, so yielding... do you feel how badly you've been wanted?"
"Yes... oh, Lucius..." Your voice broke with each gasp, each cry punctuated by the heat that pooled in your belly. You pressed closer, grinding down against him in time with his relentless thrusts, hands tangling in his silvery hair, clutching at him as if you could anchor yourself to him and never let go.
His hand trailed down your thigh, sliding over the soft skin, teasing you until you shivered violently, ready to tip over the edge. His fingers pressed to your heat, feeling himself sliding in and out of you as he expertly circled your clit. "Do you feel it?" He whispered, voice rough and low, brushing his mouth along yours. "The fullness of what you deserve... of what you've been denied?"
"Yes... yes, Lucius, please..." Your words were ragged, breathless, a mix of pleading and demand, and he responded in kind, driving into you with deliberate precision, hands claiming, lips worshipping, body and soul fully devoted to the pleasure he was giving - and taking.
Your back arched, nails raking his shoulders as your body tensed, trembling, and he could feel you nearing the edge, every heartbeat, every gasp a drumbeat to his own rising need.
"I've waited far too long for this," He murmured against your throat, voice hoarse, husky. "To show you what it means to be truly cherished." His fingers moved faster, your breath catching as your eyes squeezed shut. "That's it, sweet girl... Let go."
Your cry ripped through the air as you tipped over, shuddering violently, the pleasure coursing through your body leaving you helplessly clinging to him as you gasped his name brokenly against the crook of his neck. Lucius groaned low in his throat, pressing you down into his lap, taking you fully as you rode the wave, his hands firm and unrelenting on your hips, his mouth meeting yours to claim every sound you made.
And when he finally reached his own edge, he hissed your name, gripping you completely, thrusting into you with one final, consuming claim that left you both gasping and trembling. You leaned into him, still trembling, body sticky and flushed, hair falling into wild tendrils around your face.
"Lucius..." You whispered, voice ragged, and he shushed you with a soft kiss at your temple.
"Let me take care of you," He murmured, sliding his hands to stroke your back, smooth and deliberate, tracing the curves of your body with reverent gentleness. "Let me make sure you come down from this properly."
He guided you to rest your head against his chest, long fingers brushing the hair from your damp forehead, tracing the line of your jaw. Every touch was slow, deliberate, possessive, but soft, almost worshipful.
"You’re exquisite,” He murmured, voice low and husky. “Even now, you are still absolutely radiant. Any man would be lucky just to breathe the same air as you." He let the words hang, then added with a softer intimacy, "Myself very much included."
You shivered again, curling into him, lips parting in a soft sigh. Lucius continued, his hands stroking your arms, shoulders, back, lingering over every place his hands could reach without pressure, just warmth and reverence.
"You deserve this," He murmured, kissing the crown of your head. "To feel safe, desired, cherished... never humiliated or abandoned again."
You let out a shaky sigh, nuzzling against his chest, breathing in the faint scent of him - rich, smoky, unmistakably him - and for the first time in months, you felt safe, entirely seen.
"Lucius…" You whispered, barely audible.
"Shh," He murmured. "No one else matters. Not now, not ever while you’re here with me."
Your fingers drifted to his chest, to the fine fabric of his robes, hesitating before tentatively tracing the line of his collarbone. "You... you make it sound like I’m something to treasure," You murmured, voice thick and vulnerable. "After everything... I feel like I should still be ashamed."
His hand rose to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so you met his gaze. His pale eyes held yours with an intensity that was both gentle and unrelentingly magnetic. "The shame isn’t yours, sweet girl,” He said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “It’s his. Draco’s failure, not yours. You’ve done nothing wrong, except perhaps to be far too patient.”
A faint, breathless laugh escaped your lips. "Patience," You echoed, voice still trembling. "I thought it was love. But I was waiting for nothing. And now..." You paused, hiding your face against his chest again. "Now I feel ridiculous."
"You are far from ridiculous," He said, lowering his mouth to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Any man would be foolish not to worship you."
You lifted your head slightly, eyes meeting his, heart hammering at the implication. "You really mean that?" You whispered.
He smiled, a slow, knowing curl of his lips, and brushed his nose against yours. "I do. Every word. And I intend to show you, in every way I can, just how true it is."
Your hands drifted up to his chest again, and he leaned back slightly, allowing you to curl against him, to rest your head against his shoulder while his fingers threaded into your hair, brushing and stroking with languid care. He kissed your temple, your jaw, the side of your face, and every soft touch was a deliberate contrast to the intensity you had just shared - an unspoken promise that he would always handle you with this combination of hunger and tenderness.
"You’ve been betrayed before," He murmured, his breath warm against your hair. "Ignored, humiliated... but I will make sure you never feel that way again. Never."
Your lips parted in a soft sigh, leaning into him, and he whispered lowly, teasing just enough to make your pulse quicken without breaking the calm of the moment. "Do you feel it yet, sweet girl? How much you are wanted, how completely cherished you are? Because I want you to feel it not just once, but always.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes bright and vulnerable, voice barely a whisper. "And if I forget?"
He smiled, brushing a finger along your lips. "Then I’ll remind you, every single day. With every glance, every touch, every moment you spend with me, you will never forget again."
