Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2011-09-28 10:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp ficlets harry/lucius, hp quill-it 100.3 |
HP ficlet: Instruction [Harry/Lucius, adult]
Title: Instruction
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Lucius
Rating: adult
Length: 613 words
Warnings: various kink references
Summary: Lucius enjoys teaching Harry... perhaps a little too much.
Note: For quill_it, 100.3, prompt 36, "mine". For felaine who requested Lucius with this prompt. [Basically a sequel to "Apprentice" although I think it can stand alone.]
Harry is the most willing pupil I have ever had, eager to drink in every drop of sexual knowledge I share with him -- quite literally, at times. More eager than Dexter Avery, or Evan Rosier, or even Severus Snape, and I never thought I would find anyone with the same bright thirst for knowledge as Severus. Of course, his interests were perhaps more wide-ranging... but no matter.
I am instructing Harry as slowly as I dare, reminding him again and again that it is not enough to be shown a technique, or even try it once or twice. Practice is what truly develops one's skills. He has long since grasped this when it comes to magic, but for some reason thinks that sex should be easier. It is not, not even when more tender emotions are involved.
No such emotion exists between us... not yet. To my dismay, I am finding that each time I make Harry mine in body, I desire more and more that he might be mine in heart as well. It is an absurd desire, and well do I know that. Harry is the same age as my own son Draco, after all, and whatever his reasons for choosing to ask me to be his teacher in these matters, I very much doubt that it was with the intention of giving himself to me in more than body, and that only of necessity.
Still, from time to time I think I see something in his eyes when he looks at me, something that is more than a respect for my teaching, more than a challenge to instruct him in increasingly diverse means of sexual gratification. When he impales himself on me, riding me to his own pleasure; when I initiate him to the pleasure/pain of hot wax fallen drop by drop on sensitive skin; when he learns how to bind me and the bliss true submission can bring -- with every new piece of knowledge transmitted there is a moment when the hunger in his eyes seems to be a hunger for me, for Lucius Malfoy, not merely for the body that shares pleasure with him or the mind that teaches him.
It is a foolish hope, no doubt. Yet I cling to it, foolishly, and dole out my instruction bit by bit in the hope that the more time we spend together, the more likely it is he will develop a true attachment.
My own feelings for him are complex. I remain grateful that he saved Draco, the reason for our bargain in the first place. I resent that his triumph shamed me and mine. I envy his youth and success. Above all I desire him physically, more than I would care to admit to anyone, even to him. In a way I am grateful for the difference in our ages. Were I my son's age, I doubt I could control my reactions enough to teach Harry as I agreed.
I am no Seer to tell the future. Neither tea leaves nor crystal balls nor the movement of the stars has ever told me what would come to pass, nor do I put any faith in others' predictions on my behalf. I can only follow the course I have chosen, and see what may transpire.
My immediate future, however, I know well. Harry and I have our next lesson in half an hour. I have already selected the items I will teach him to use on this occasion; he will learn the delights of paddle, cane, and whip. It is a lesson I greatly anticipate, whether or not it ends by serving my larger purpose with him.