: The tales mirrors could tell Author
: Narcissa Malfoy, Blaise Zabini Rating
: NC-17 Warnings
: Dub-con, Dirty Talk, NWS-art Themes/kink
: Kinky Kristmas 2007Word Count
: ca 8800 Summary
: After doing something to please the Dark Lord, Blaise gets to choose his reward
The snow was falling outside the large French windows. Small, wet, flakes that were hardly seen against the grey dark night as they fell on the park. Grey. Not black. No stars. It seemed fitting, this shapeless grey foggy dark. It seemed fitting that the stars of her ancestry weren't shining. Just as her own star wasn't tonight.
She brushed the thought away as she turned into the room, her room. The only light came from the fireplace opposite the bed and she was grateful for the gloom tonight. She turned to the bed. The large mahogany bed with its rich dark green velvet hangings and equally green silk sheets. It was dominating the room at the best of times. There were other furniture of course, but it was the bed you saw - the bed she saw now - and tonight it reminded her of how far she'd fallen. A whore to do the Dark Lord's bidding.
She sighed, then straightened up. No matter what she'd become, what they thought of her, it didn't matter. She would do this with her head held high. She'd look her son's former friend in the eye and see Lucius, she would pretend things were normal, pretend she was some place else and when he was done (and he was a youngster, it honestly couldn't take too long) she would go back to being herself. Now if he could only hurry up to get there, it was the waiting that had her on pins and needles.
Blaise was well amused by the peacocks still strutting about the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Despite it all, some things needed to remain unsullied for the glorious future of wizarding kind. He didn't bother to knock on the door, nor did he bat an eyelid at the portraits of Malfoys long dead that gazed at him as he climbed the staircase. He'd wanted this for quite some time, and he had revelled in the joy of having pleased the Dark Lord enough to ask for whatever boon he desired. His request even seemed to have pleased Lord Voldemort, as he had given Blaise an approving nod.
It did not matter to him that Narcissa was old enough to be his mother. He was certain that his own mother took lovers his own age. What was it about her and Theodore Nott the last time he had visited? What did it matter, anyway? The Malfoys were out of favour, but perhaps with a little of his persuasion, he might be able to bring Narcissa's star back to life.
He didn't knock on the bedroom door, merely opening it as he tossed his cloak aside. If an elf didn't catch it before it hit the ground, it would not live to see the morning. He'd kept her waiting. Good. He liked a little fire and spirit, and making them wait often brought that to the fore.
"Narcissa," he said with a low rumble in his voice. She had no other titles, and the name of her voice sounded smooth as it rolled off his tongue.
She nearly flinched at the sound of her name over his lips; soft, smooth, as if this was a seduction and not a business deal. She didn't let that show however, as she stood looking at him through the large golden framed mirror above the bed.
“You're late,” she said simply. “Shall we get this over with? Now, where do you want me?” She turned, looking straight at him, her head held high and a look of scorn on her face. He was nothing to her, she kept telling herself, and the sooner this was over the better.
Blaise heard her frustration and laughed low in the back of his throat. He headed to the sideboard and helped himself to the brandy. He poured a good shot, and gave Narcissa a look before deciding to pour her one as well. "Now, there's no need for haste. We have all
He saw her watching him through the large mirror, and heard her words. Taking a sip of the brandy (He always knew that Narcissa was the one with the taste, not Lucius - this was her brandy), he pondered how he wanted her. "Well, willing would be rather nice. It's always so much easier than if I have to use force." The thought of having her tied up to one of those mahogany bedposts, her skin red raw and the possibility of blood against her skin was something he would normally find appealing, but that was only as a last resort.
He stood there, just watching her as he licked his lips and swirled the brandy around in the glass. He was considering a great many things, and each one was making his cock hard just at the thought. "Yes, I definitely think willing is how I want you."
She nearly rolled her eyes at his words. How in the world could he possibly think she'd be willing? She was whoring herself to keep herself and her family alive, nothing else. For not the first time in the last year she wished Potter would just kill the Dark Lord and have it over with - though of course she kept those thoughts deep inside her, even hidden from her husband and son.
“Willing is not an option,” she said frankly. “But I will not fight you if that's what you mean,” she said walking up to him and taking the offered brandy. “Do not expect smiles and cuddles and me screaming your name - I won't do either of those. I'll play along, do what you wish of me, and after tonight I will live pretending this night never happened.'”
Merlin- it was Christmas Eve she was supposed to be with her family, not with some young upstart who didn't even know for sure who his father was.
He was not surprised by her forthright words, or her tone. He was amused by what she deemed she would do, and not do. But before the night was out, he would get her respect. And her willingness. His mouth was still quirked in amusement.
"It must be hard to convince yourself that you're only doing this to keep yourself alive - or to keep your husband alive. That once this is all over you'll go back to him, and you'll take up your lives as if nothing had ever happened."
"Are you afraid you'll enjoy yourself too much?" he asked, a finger trailing along her collarbone. Her skin was so perfect, so pale, and his was in distinct contrast, although equally unblemished. "Or have you come to that startling conclusion already? Having to... settle for your husband's affections for the rest of your days would leave you... empty."
"How many times have you closed your eyes when you're being fucked, only to find it isn't your husband's face, it isn't his cock you're feeling? How can you live with such a dirty little secret?"
If he thought his words would affect her, he was dead wrong. She had chosen Lucius out of her own free will, and she had not regretted her choice once. She loved her husband, her son, their family. “You're wrong,” she said calmly, taking a sip of brandy, trying not to flinch at the delicate touch of his finger or the softness of his voice. It spoke of patience - one he was too young to have - and that
more than anything he could possibly say unnerved her.
“And I will not be enjoying myself tonight,” she added, though she wasn't sure if it was for his or her own benefit she said it out loud. She almost wished he'd get on with it, take her, let it be rough and humiliating as things like this should be. Soft was...wrong somehow.
Blaise could see how she had the nickname 'the Ice Queen', but he always knew that was a façade. He had all night to pick away at that reserve - piece by piece. When she said she would not be enjoying herself, he just shook his head and tutted. "Now why would you deny yourself that pleasure?" It was insane for anyone to deny themselves pleasure when it was offered. It was anathema to him to even think it.
"I'm a very patient man, Narcissa." I had to be living in the same bloody dorm room as your son.
"Do you have any
idea why I wanted this as my reward?" the hand that had trailed along her collarbone now brushed along the edge of her robe, a soft red pressure mark leaving a trail as his fingers trailed down over the soft swell of her breast. "Why I wanted you, when I could have had any reward that our Dark Lord was willing to provide?"
At his question she did almost flinch. She didn't want to know, didn't care, she just wanted it to be over so she could return to normal. His calm warm voice was unsettling and she felt naked even though she was still in her morning robes. She did not move from his hand, let him move his fingers where he wanted without shying back even when the softness of that touch made her want to scream. Why couldn't he be like a typical teenager?
“I don't know and I don't care, I do wish you could get on with it,” she said coolly. Her eyes did not deviate from his as she refused to let herself crumble just from the heat in his eyes and the softness of his touch. She was a Malfoy and a Black - and she did not crumble and break down in front of teenage boys. No matter how patient they seemed.
"You do care," he said with a knowing smirk. "You know, I'm curious about something," he said as he stared straight at her. They were of a height - he really liked tall women. "You can pretend all you want that you are a Malfoy, but you're not, you're really just a Black. And the Blacks will always do what they can to survive, don't they?" He stood closer, his voice getting softer with each word as he came to whisper across her ear. The hand that had been toying along her breastbone brushed back along the underside of her breast, a thumb brushing over a fabric covered nipple. "Malfoys aren't adaptable, aren't as malleable as you or I, Narcissa. That's why your husband failed, and why your son failed, and why I'm the one in our Lord's favour."
"But we both know you're better than that, don't we?" he whispered as the back of his finger traced down her sternum and pulled at the tie on her robes. They fell open, but Blaise wasn't interested in the expanse of skin that was revealed. He was still watching Narcissa's face. He leaned in again close to her ear, this time his tongue darting out to brush ever so softly across the shell. "But you're a survivor."
"Malfoys don't let themselves get lost in the moment, Narcissa, but I think you do. I think you want to so much, but you can't, not when your husband expects you to do the exact opposite."
He smirked just a little, watching her so closely, waiting for just a hitch of her breath, or watching a change in the hairs along her skin. His hand brushed back up her arm as he waited to hear yet another denial spill from her lips. "Have you ever touched yourself when you're alone? I bet you have, and I bet you ache for that sometimes - when you can be alone and just be yourself as you let your fingers touch you in the places that only you know about." Blaise knew his voice held power, and he kept talking, waiting for that moment when he knew he had her.
His voice was seductive, soft, warm - it embraced her whether she wanted it to or not, and she shivered as a result of the tone. At that moment, she hated him. Hated him for requesting her, hated him for speaking to her pride as a Black, for insulting her son and her husband - and she hated the way his tone of voice made her want to give in. She tried not letting it show, stood still, holding in those very emotions he was talking about. He was right - in one thing - she did hold back. Not her passion when she was her husband (Lucius was a magnificent lover - well had been once before, though that seemed like a long time ago now) but her anger when things did not go her way. If she didn't she'd yell and scream and cry and fight for what she knew was her right, the right that was now denied her. That was denied her family.
She would not do that; she would not lose her cool.
Meeting his gaze steadily, she tried giving him nothing of the fire within. “What I do when I'm alone is none of your business, Mr. Zabini, but I can assure you that there is never a time when I do not want my husband near.”
Blaise nearly laughed. She was like a colt that had never been properly broken in. Lucius had truly done a number on her - had claimed her as his own, but Blaise knew there was a fervent and fiery woman there who was just so close to the surface. "Well, isn't it a pity your husband won't be joining us tonight. Or any time soon for that matter."
He didn't fail to notice the shiver at his words. "I intent to enjoy my 'spoils of war', and so everything becomes my business this evening, Narcissa
." he laughed low as he came to stand behind her. His hands came up to her shoulders, finally removing the robes and finding no resistance as they fell to the floor. She was completely naked, and Blaise took a moment to take in the expanse of pale flesh. The back of his hand trailed down from the nape of her neck as he softly let a hand settle on her hip. He was naked under his own robes, but he made no move to take his off, as he had other plans for Narcissa.
Planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, he came up again to whisper across her ear. "Perhaps I merely wanted to watch you tonight, Narcissa. Watch you just pleasure yourself, seeing how you like to make yourself come when you're feeling needy. Perhaps I just want to hear you beg and ache to be touched, to be filled." Blaise reached for the back of Narcissa's hand, bringing it up so she was cupping her own breast. His fingers entwined with hers, he brushed her palm across her nipple as he gently squeezed her finger and thumb around the dusky bud.
The chill of the air as her robes fell to the ground had her nipples growing hard and erect. Sensitive they responded to the touch as once, but it was the sound of his voice whispered so close to her ear that made her shiver and caused her breath to hitch. She wasn't sure how to handle this. It wasn't at all what she'd expected. She swallowed. No one had ever seen her touch herself - no one but Lucius. It wasn't the same as letting someone do things to her, or even to do things to that someone. To touch herself would be opening up, offering herself to him.
She was glad he was behind her back so he could not see the look in her eyes.
“And what if I don't do as you ask?” she asked, gaining her courage, not flinching, refusing to budge. “Or what if I do and find no pleasure in watching you watch me?” she added.
"Do you really want to disobey?" he asked softly, hearing the fire in her voice and knowing just how to temper it. He would break her. "Or was Yaxley's lesson not strong enough the last time? I didn't think you were like your sister - I didn't think you were aroused by pain. I always took you for one who enjoyed a more sophisticated approach."
Blaise pulled his wand, letting it trail down her spine. "If you don't do as I ask, I'll just have to put on my own puppet show."
"And if you don't want to watch me watch you, I could blind you. But then you'd only start to think about Lucius, and we can't have that, now, can we?" Blaise toyed with casting a coercive spell on her, but he wanted her willing, and he wasn't about to give up yet. "I can already feel the heat between your legs, and I bet you're just aching already for just a touch. Why not just let go?"
His words scared her more than she was willing to admit. On the one hand, yes, let him make her a puppet, then she wouldn't be responsible. Only she'd not have control either. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to push away his words. Nevertheless, he was right. Her body was responding. To the sound of his voice, to the touch of his - and her own - hand, to the feel of a man so close.
It had been a long time since Lucius touched her like this. A long time since he showed her attention she needed as a woman. Azkaban had broken the man he once was, and as much as she hoped to have her husband back the way he had been, her body knew to take pleasure where it could.
“I will do as you demand,” she said, glad her voice was still under her control even as her body wasn't. Damn the treacherous thing. Swallowing, she vowed herself to think of Lucius, of not letting the youngster claim her mind too.
She was resisting as much as possible, and Blaise smirked. He knew he would get to her eventually. He preferred it like this - no marks to blemish her skin, no spells to force her into such a natural act. The thought was arousing, and he let his hard cock brush up against her thigh as he leaned in closer.
With a flick of the wand his robes were gone and he stood naked and proud as he felt the heat of his body as he leaned against hers. He ached to fuck her - to control her and make her his own, to make her realise that her husband could never truly make her feel like a complete woman. He let go of her hand at her breast. "On the bed. Now. Kneeling, knees spread and facing the foot." The commanding tone of his voice was filled with promise as he waited for her to comply.
Rather than watching her from afar, Blaise still came up behind her on the bed. He pulled one of the pins from her hair, letting it cascade down her back. Those fair curls fell naturally around her shoulders. "You're free of your bonds now. Show me how you please yourself." His voice had become even lower than before. Blaise swallowed hard, the sight of her just like that enough to test his resolve.
He was so close and so imposing - not only on her body but on her mind and that more than anything brought on a fury within her. When he brushed up against her she could feel every nerve in her body wanting the touch - any man's touch - to feel desirable again, but her mind fought back. Her mind closed off and tried to think of Lucius.
The bark of a command felt like a liberation. It was what she could expect, what she knew, it was not trying to make her feel. She obeyed without a word, her head held high as she faced the foot on the bed, for once hating the mirror on the other side of the room, tilted just enough to give a perfect view of the bed. Lucius had liked that, liked to watch them - she had too. Now when she looked in the mirror she saw herself, naked, on her knees like so many times before, but it wasn't Lucius who climbed up behind her, it was the youngster, his skin black and smooth and such a contrast to her own pale shimmer. He let her hair fall down her back and she knew he too was watching the mirror when he told her to touch herself.
His voice alone was like a caress when she did as he ordered her. Eyes closed from the vision in the mirror, she moved her hands over her skin, one cupping her breast and another moving between her spread legs, finding the nub that would always bring her over the edge there. It was swollen already, aching to be touched. In that moment she hated the needs of her body.
Blaise saw her watching herself in the mirror, and he admired the contrast of their bodies. So perfectly opposite, yet they felt as if they fit together. He watched as she started to cup her breast, kneading at the soft skin, and the other moved down to that spot between her legs. His hands settled on her hips, the urge to join her hands far too great.
He watched now in the mirror as he trailed kisses just below her ear. But the spell was broken when she closed her eyes. "Open your eyes," he barked hoarsely. "Watch yourself give in to your desires. I won't have you thinking about Lucius." It was the first time there was anger in his words. But he would not let her escape into her memories of her husband. He had one night with Narcissa, and he planned to make her forget Lucius. At least for now.
She tried to imagine it was Lucius. Only Lucius didn't have such full lips, nor were his hands so patient when touching her. In spite of her efforts, it was impossible to imagine, and then there was that voice again, as he barked at her to open her eyes.
She obeyed immediately, not even hesitating. On the tip of her tongue there was the retort - What if my desires are Lucius? - only she did not speak the words. There was anger in his voice, and she dared not push him further. As much as the pain would be a relief for her mind, she dreaded the marks on her skin, dreaded the pain in itself. He was right, she'd never been like her sister. She loathed pain, had resisted another child because of that fear even as she craved a daughter. In that sense she was weaker than he thought she was, only she did not let him know, did not give him the power it would mean to know.
Instead she opened her eyes and looked into the mirror - at herself, knees spread wide like a wanton whore as her fingers moved over her skin, her hair as a halo around her like an angel. It was a contrast she'd always been proud of. Only then it had been Lucius behind her, his pale skin, his body - slightly softer with every passing year. Now it was Blaise's body behind her. Dark, hard, smooth, velvety. He was beautiful, the contrast between them was beautiful. Narcissa wished that wasn't the case, just as she wished the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand didn't affect her. Her wishes weren't important tonight though.
From the very first time Blaise had met Narcissa Malfoy, he'd wondered if she ever had a hair out of place - if she ever let go of that icy reserve. He'd been only a boy then, but as he matured, that thought had matured into wondering if she ever truly could become wanton and debauched. The vision before him in the mirror was one that he had often dreamed of, but the reality was so much better.
His hand trailed down her arms as he held her gaze in the mirror. "So beautiful, so perfect," he murmured against her skin, his cock throbbing against her thigh. He took in every inch of her skin, from the still pert breasts to the perfectly manicured fingernails that slid down and disappeared between her legs. His hands followed hers, as he was unable to keep them away - the contrast in the mirror one that he found more than a little aesthetically pleasing. Blaise liked beauty - liked to surround himself with all sorts of beautiful things.
He could not resist letting his hand cup her other breast, his eyes seeing hers in the pale reflection. His other hand trailed down her back, each touch a caress of the skin as he subconsciously felt her arch into the simple touch. It brushed over the spot where her husband and son both wore a dark mark. If he continued to please his Dark Lord, he would soon wear one as well. He would not disgrace such an honour, and the thought made him hiss with pleasure. Kissing along Narcissa's collarbone, he let out just the softest of low moans, his hand squeezing her nipple just enough to feel a shift in her body.
It seemed his hands were everywhere, demanding and yet so utterly soft. Softer than Lucius’s ever were, had been, back when he still touched her like this. The thought made her want to close her eyes again, but she didn't dare do that. Instead she kept her eyes open, meeting Blaise's gaze in the mirror, his desire shining through as he looked at her. How long had it been since anyone looked at her like that?
She didn't want to get lost, didn't want to lose herself to this, but with every soft whispered word, with every kiss and touch and swirl of her finger over her clit, she found herself melt away, found her body responding, wanting, needing. With every touch her mind - her memories - mattered less and less. With every touch, her body needed more and more. A gasp left her as he softly squeezed her nipple, almost a moan, and she bit her lip to keep the sound in. She couldn't give in. She wouldn't.
He could see she was fighting the desire, even as he sensed it heightening. "That's it," he whispered in approval. He watched as her finger slid over and circled her clit, her hips bucking towards her own hand. The line of her lipstick was still perfect (no doubt it was charmed to stay perfect), but he still had the urge to see her looking utterly debauched. There was a thought to see those lips wrapped around his cock, but that could wait. Perhaps later, perhaps another time. He smirked at that thought.
"It feels good, doesn't it? Letting go like that." He understood her displeasure at her current situation, and spoke soothing words. "Be free for now, and give in to every one of your desires, Narcissa." The scent of her arousal was slowly getting stronger, and he let his cock grind against her. "Give in, and I'll fuck you and truly make you feel like a woman." He nuzzled the other side of her neck, feeling her body becoming more pliant as she pleasured herself. He knew how some of the Dark Lord's servants had been treating her. It was evident in her every word that she despised their words and stares – the way they no longer paid her the respect she was accustomed to.
His voice was too seductive, too warm, too much of everything and she didn't want to give in to him. He was a child, she reminded herself, chanting it over and over in her mind as she tried to fight the growing arousal. Still with every soft stroke, with every soothing word, it was harder to convince herself of that. Her body needed the touch - more than she ever wanted to admit. It had been too long. Too much - and she wanted...no she didn't want this, wouldn't admit to wanting this. And yet as a soft moan escaped her lips it became harder and harder to deny.
“I'm a woman no matter what you do,” she managed to hiss, though her voice was too hoarse, too weak. She hated the weakness in herself.
Her moan and hiss betrayed her, but Blaise didn't respond to her retort. She was weakening, and he was just going to have to disabuse her of those notions sooner rather than later. He buried his fingers in her long curls, turning her head to face him as he brought her lips to his. He felt a resistance at first, but didn't stop as he let his tongue brush along her lower lip. It was just a momentary taste, but one that he knew would remind her just who it was making her feel this way.
Pulling back, he let his tongue trail down her neck and collarbone, his fingers pinching at her nipple as he rocked his body against hers. "You're such a sensual being, Narcissa," he whispered, letting her hear the desire in his voice as he looked back up at them in the mirror. He broke his own resistance, letting his hand slide away from her breast as he brought it down to join hers, his fingers entwining around hers as he felt the slip of wetness around her clit. His fingers slid further down, before teasingly brushing away towards her thigh. "Tell me what you want, Narcissa." In one moment he'd gone from demanding, to listening. He knew she'd give in soon, and he was more than willing to give it to her.
His kiss took her by surprise. He shouldn't kiss her, he shouldn't want to. Not on a night like this, at a meeting like this. Only he did, his soft full slips brushing against hers, his tongue leaving his taste behind for her even after he pulled away. His taste, his touch, his gaze through the mirror. If she'd ever thought she'd be able to pretend she now knew better.
His hands on her body had her arching into his touch, the tension in her body increasing with every swirl of her fingers. She didn't want to give in, but she could feel her body take over more with every passing second - and then his fingers joined hers between her legs and she nearly whimpered with pleasure as a result. It had been so long. So many months with no one but herself. She was craving the touch with every fibre of her being even if her mind yelled to her to stop taking pleasure from a teenaged boy who'd more or less forced her into this.
At his question however, she couldn't answer what her mind wanted - for things to be the way they were - nor did she allow herself to answer what her body wanted. Biting her lip she could feel the tang of blood as she resisted, a low moan spilling from her lips instead of the words she knew he was expecting.
Her lips tasted as he imagined. Not sweet, not bitter, but ripe and full. She was resisting to the last moment, but Blaise knew that there would come a moment where she would surrender. His touch seemed to have helped spark the start of her downfall, but he saw the resistance on her face as she bit her lip. His hand covered hers, still letting his fingers glide with hers as she took her pleasure.
"Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you news of your husband," his words were whispered across her ear, even as much as he despised them. But he had knowledge she did not, and he suspected she was resisting because of him. He practically growled as his fingers entered her, slowly fucking her as his other hand stilled her hips. "Resist, and I'll tell him just what a good whore you are. Let go and be true to yourself, and Lucius will never know."
She nearly whimpered at his fingers moved with hers, her orgasm so close. Yet she fought it, with everything in her being she did not want to give in to him - until he spoke and she knew she was defeated. Even as her anger flared, it occurred to her that had he done this to anyone but her, she'd respect him for his cunning. Now she hated it. She
was better than this, she
should not be treated like this.
And yet she gave in. To the pleasure, to his voice, to the feeling of leaving her control behind. “Tell me,” she whispered, gasping as his fingers entered her - fucked her. “But after, not now.” It was only a plea, but as much as it had been her intention she could not think of Lucius now. Not when her body was so utterly giving in. “There, right there, just a little harder...” The words were gasped, not spoken, and she felt him touch her, be there, and she saw his desire in the mirror.
She saw herself give in. She saw herself come. Her body shaking, shining in the dim light from the fire, her hair spread out around her as her head fell back - her eyes not daring to move from the mirror, or from him.
The words had worked, and he saw that the mention of her husband finally brought her to the point where she surrendered control. It was that moment he knew he had her, and she never looked more beautiful. Her command was not difficult, and he brought his hand to where she wanted and pressed harder, hearing the gasp in her voice as it travelled straight to his groin, and he blinked slowly.
He felt her orgasm the moment just before she shuddered, not taking his eyes from her sensuality. He held her stare as his fingers slid through her wetness, flicking her clit and slowly sliding into her cunt. He let her ride through the waves of the orgasm, whispering soothing words across her ear. "Good girl. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Her body was so soft and pliant, as he pulled her fingers away from her clit, sucking them one by one into his mouth. Her taste was delicious, and he closed his eyes and moaned softly as he licked her fingers clean. But now his cock was screaming for some attention as he thrust against her thigh. Pushing her hand away, he kissed her - hard. Sharing her taste as his lips crushed against hers, he lay her back against the bed. There was no need for fanfare as he finally let his cock slide down between her legs and he entered her in one hard thrust, sheathing himself in her, all the while smirking.
She fell back against him, her body unable to hold back, her breast rising and sinking with shallow breaths as he licked her fingers. Without being able to stop herself, she turned her head away from the mirror - to him, meeting his gaze for real for the first time since they'd got on the bed. His desire was burning and she found herself nearly gasping from the intensity of his eyes.
Then he let go of her hand and pulled her head further to the side, claiming her lips with force as he moved enough to face her. The moan was not intentional, but she'd forgot about her pride and forgot about her word to herself. She'd given in, and now she kept giving in, returning the kiss, tasting herself of his fingers, reluctantly enjoying the taste of him that was behind it.
Lucius had never been further from her mind as when Blaise pushed her back, laying her so that they were draped across the bed, the mirror to their left though at the moment Narcissa had forgotten all about it. She hissed with pleasure as he thrust deep inside her - the thrust deeper and more powerful than any she'd felt before. It was only then she realised he was larger than Lucius. Somehow that seemed unfair - until he thrust again and a moan of pleasure erupted from deep inside her.
Thoughts lay forgotten as her nails dug into his back and shoulders.
Blaise groaned softly when he filled her, her body so hot and tight around his length. He gasped at her hiss, his hands grasping hard at her hips as he filled her. She had surrendered and he felt her responding, her soft walls clenching around his length as he fucked her, her hips arching up to meet him. The depth of her moan - so full of enjoyment - spurred him on and he closed his eyes.
His hand slid down her thigh, urging her leg to wrap around his back. He changed his angle as he thrust again, and turned to the mirror. The sight of his cock sliding into her was clear in the reflection, and Blaise gasped, urging her hips up off the bed with his hands. The feeling was exquisite, and he threw his head back as he started to fuck her hard. So hard, he felt his balls slap against her and he felt his coarse hairs slide up and brush her clit with each stroke.
Watching her breasts bounce as he fucked her, he licked his lips as he leaned down to trace the nipple with his teeth and tongue.
She tried not to look in the mirror, tried not to look at him, but somehow her eyes were drawn to their image. Of his dark hand on her pale hip, of his cock sliding in and out of her again and again reaching spots inside her that had her body shivering with lust. Her nails were digging deep into his shoulders, but he didn't seem to mind the marks. Instead he hissed with pleasure, watching them, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror. Dark eyes looking at her, lust shining through them as he sped up their pace. She moaned every time he brushed up against her sensitive clit, and gasped with the pleasure that ran through her as his teeth and tongue started teasing her breasts. ”Yes!”
The sound was out of her mouth before she could think. But even as she heard it she knew she could not deny the pleasure - it was too strong, too intense, and too long since last.
Blaise was smirking as he tended her breasts, and he heard her cry. It spurred him on as he let his teeth graze the soft bud. He saw her surrender as she saw them, the flutter of her eyelids and the cry of her words was enough to spur him on. His hands were on her hips, his body grinding against hers, his desire slowly building. He felt her clit, rocking his hips with each thrust.
He let out his own groan of desire when he heard her cry, increasing his pace as he felt the tightening of the slow coil of desire start to curl inside his balls. He wanted to hold on for as long as possible - draw out his pleasure and give Narcissa hers again, as he fucked her deeper and faster.
The feeling of him filling her over and over again had her moaning out loud, and she raised her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out loud. In the mirror she could see him, see them, and the sight only increased the pleasure. Every time he entered her he brushed against her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the orgasm she didn't even want to want. Why deny yourself
a small voice in her mind said and as much as she wanted to push it away she felt herself embrace the so very Slytherin part of her being that wanted more.
She let go, completely, forgetting the who and the why and the how and simply felt, her body taking what it wanted, claiming what it wanted as she pulled her own orgasm out of Blaise's movement.
Her hand moved, fisting the sheet, and her head fell back, her long hair spreading out over the bed and hanging down the side as she cried out, her body shaking with the power of the orgasm that claimed her.
Blaise saw the moment she moved from resentment, through surrender, and now through something he knew was familiar. Greed. The greed of taking her own pleasure, and Blaise closed his eyes and groaned, smug in pleasure at having brought her to this point. She was stunningly beautiful, with all that hair spread out around her in a halo.
He felt the moment of her pleasure, hearing her cry and feeling her body as it shook and quivered around him. He felt her clutching with need at his cock, and he sped up his thrusts. Her curls were in disarray as he felt the sheen of sweat that covered her body as he fucked her now in earnest.
But youth and vigour won out, and he felt his calm and cool manner suddenly wash away as he let go with his own desire. He thrust again, and his orgasm took over, shaking and shuddering as his thrusts sped up. He came hard, spilling deep as he looked straight into her eyes, showing her the desire, and the victory of having won her surrender, and having known he was right. He shuddered and gasped one last time as his balls emptied, and he slumped against her, fully sated.
She knew she was defeated before he came, but the look in his eyes - the smug victory in them and her gasping for air. Never, not once, during all her marriage - during all her life - had she had another man than Lucius. She was all his. Had always been his, just as he was hers. But now there was this - him - and he wasn't Lucius. So why had she surrendered to the pleasure? Because she, as much as he, knew she had.
And somehow, as much as she wished she did, she did not regret the pleasure. She was too much of a Slytherin to do that. She'd wanted pleasure, release - the kind her husband was unable to give her any longer. Blaise had given her what she needed. They both knew that.
He still wore the smug little smirk as he fell against her body. This was more than just a reward, this was a victory, and he knew that he would be here again, with her, regardless now of whether or not the Dark Lord 'gave' her to him as reward. But now he had the mirror, and a pensieve memory that he could use against Draco or Lucius, should the need arise. But Narcissa didn't need to know that.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, trying not to sound completely smug.
The smug tone in his voice annoyed her and she found herself waiting for when he would roll off her. When he did she sat up, then got up even if her legs were still shaky from her orgasm. “I hope you're pleased,” she said calmly, no shyness or hesitation as she stood in front of the mirror, still naked, putting her hair back up and making sure her make up was still charmed to perfection.
She refused to answer his question, knew they both knew the answer anyway. Besides, saying something would make it true and she was not having that. Not now, not later. He was still only a teenage boy.
“Do I have your permission to get dressed?” she asked turning to face him, her mask back on, at she met his gaze.
Narcissa was no cowering virgin he'd just deflowered, although judging from her responses, he'd done things her husband might never have considered. Like fucking her properly. He lay on his side, his head in his hand as he watched by the mirror. The walls were slamming back up again, which didn't surprise him in the least.
He slowly sat up, but looked at her when she spoke. So he hadn't quite beaten the fire out of her. Part of him was glad, yet another part was very annoyed. He would have to work on that. "You forget your place, Narcissa. Speak to me like that again, and you won't be seeing me next week.
"Now surely you can show a little... gratitude?" He waited for any sort of reaction on her face. "You don't need permission to get dressed, but I do hope next week that you'll wear something a little more... frivolous. I do like the look of lace against skin before I tear it off with my teeth." That image alone should keep her imagination going for a while, especially since this reward with the Dark Lord had been for more than one night with Narcissa. He had many, many plans.
At the mention of more than one night she paled (as much as was possible) and her eyes went wide. “There was no mention of more than once,” she said calmly, though there was a commanding tone to her voice, one that did not leave room for questionings or doubt. “And I might have enjoyed it more than expected, but I still am only here because the Dark Lord asked it of me. He said once. Once is what you had - I hoped you took the chance to enjoy it.”
As Slytherin as she was, and as much as she wanted - no needed - the pleasure, she needed her husband's love more.
"Do you really think I would have told you how many... meetings I have been allowed?" It was true. He was allowed one night with Narcissa for every traitor that had been captured from his information. So far he had one more night with Narcissa, and he suspected he would have a third. "Who knows, if I keep pleasing our lord you might be entertaining me more than your dear husband."
"Speaking of which..." He had not forgotten he had promised to tell Narcissa of what he knew of Lucius. But he wasn't going to volunteer it immediately as he watched her to see just how hungry she was for the information.
“Unless I hear it from the Dark Lord himself, I have no reason to trust you,” she said calmly, walking past him and putting her robe back on. “You're a Slytherin, but so am I, and I do not trust the words of a-“ randy teenager “man such as yourself,” she said. There was no sarcasm in her voice, she still couldn't be sure he was telling the truth. But she did not take his word for it either and made no pretence to.
When he mentioned something else she frowned, then remembered - and closed her eyes, grateful that he was behind her. “You offered information,” she said quietly. “So what have you heard? I know the Dark Lord does not favour us, but surely he's going to give Lucius the chance to prove himself?” She could only hope, because living like this - reduced to this
was not something she could willingly accept.
"You'll be sure to hear from him soon." Blaise was still smirking, imagining the look on her face when Voldemort confirmed it would happen again.
She was desperate for the information, and Blaise came up to her shoulder. He was still naked, unashamed of his body. He suppressed the laugh at the woman's futile hopes and dreams for her husband, who was practically rendered impotent as an agent of the Dark Lord. One did not regain trust with words and begging futilely. "He's..." Blaise let out a dramatic sigh, prolonging the words that he knew he didn't want to speak. "He's been yet again spared by the Dark Lord, and offered the opportunity to redeem himself. That is all."
So it wasn't anything, really, but he was sure Narcissa would cling to such news. What a wasted effort, in his opinion. She could have any Death Eater who wanted her, and her fortunes need not have fallen this far. Blaise would never understand women, no matter how hard he tried.
That was it? She nearly snorted. That was nothing she couldn't find out from Lucius. Not that she said anything - she knew there would be no point, especially if he was not lying about his reward. She bit her lip, her body responding with anticipation even as she wanted to scream in frustration. And then she took a deep breath, and took control.
you're telling the truth,” she said calmly, turning around and looking him straight in the eyes. “It will not be in this bedroom. I will wear whatever I see fit, and I will influence the whens as much as the hows.”
She raised her chin. “Of course this is only in case you are telling the truth. Again, I want to hear that from the Dark Lord's mouth himself. And if you ever tell Lucius, I will not be held responsible for my actions,” she said. She may have been turned into a whore against her will - but she was still a Black and she would still wear her head high when all was said and done.
"By all means, confirm the details with the Dark Lord," he said, amused by the thought of her asking after him. "It's of no consequence, and will not change anything." He was slowly unfolding his own robes as he donned them again, calmly. But he had one final smirk as he waved away his hand. "Now you know the only way that Lucius will find out is if you displease me." He was not going to let her take the upper hand. She was forgetting her place.
"So you'll be wearing lace, and it will be in this room, one week from today, or Lucius will hear just how much I truly did enjoy fucking his wife properly."
Her eyes were like ice when she glared at him, her jaw set. Though when she spoke she was in perfect control. “And here I thought you wanted me willing,” she said with a slight smirk. “I suppose it's time for you to choose - force me or have me come more or less willingly, make me follow orders and otherwise be lifeless… or have someone who knows how to please a man in bed,” she said, stepping close.
“You may be in a position to force me today, Mr. Zabini, but there is nothing to say that you will be tomorrow. It all depends on how well you do, doesn't it?” She may not have had power, but she had a poisonous tongue, and she knew how to be 'overheard' by the right people. Years of practice would do that.
Blaise knew when he had met his match. Narcissa Malfoy was not to be trifled with. Well, not that way, at least. He held her gaze a moment longer as he ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. Giving her a nod, he conceded the conversation. He'd wear her down. Eventually. It would be a challenge. My oh my, did he love a challenge. "Next week, Mrs Malfoy." With that he finished slowly doing up the buttons on the cuffs of his robes.
"It's been a pleasure
." Indeed it had.
She watched him dress, and go, knowing she'd won a bit - but lost so much more. Next week... she looked out the window into the darkness of the starless night. Next week - and then how many times? How many times would she become a whore before this was over?
And why was she not more upset about it?
“You know why,” the mirror said. “I saw you, you liked it.”
She gave the mirror an icy glare. “Mirrors can be smashed,” she said. The mirror fell silent. She went back to looking outside, pretending the mirror wasn't right. A larger version of the artwork can be found here