FIC: Make the Man
Title: Make the Man
Pairing: Lucius/Sirius
Rating: Porn
Warnings: underage, object insertion, highly dubious consent
A.N.:For the_minx_17's Bring Back the Porn challenge. Written also with red_squared in mind. She deserves something much more extravagant than this rather hurried piece, but I hope she will like it regardless. ♥


It's sheer luck, as Sirius throws his cutlery down, that his plate doesn't break. Sirius slumps back in his chair, looking rebellious and flushed, and waits for Lucius to respond. He has to wait for a while. Lucius finishes his mouthful of pheasant, calmly lays his own knife and fork down on the side of his plate, dabs at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, then looks at Sirius.

"Is there a problem?"

"I don't like pheasant. I'm a vegetarian."

Lucius arches an eyebrow and resists the urge to smile. He picks up his cutlery again and neatly slices off a small shred of meat.

"No, Sirius, you are not a vegetarian," he says, while sliding the blade back and forth. "You're a fifteen-year old brat determined to be difficult and looking for any excuse to escape this lesson. The two things are very different, though I'll admit both depend on a matter of principle."

Sirius stretches forward over the table, strands of his long black hair falling forward from over his shoulder like ribbons over the white linen tablecloth. He picks idly at the one of the roses in the floral centrepiece. With a breath of annoyance, Lucius reaches out and plucks the trailing cuff of Sirius's robe out of his glass of red wine. He frowns at the stain on the expensive silk and folds the fabric up past Sirius's slender white wrist. Sirius lets him, sulky but pliant.

"I don't like pheasant. I'm not eating it," Sirius says again.

"We've discussed the etiquette of being served a meal one doesn't much care for in previous lessons, Sirius. Good manners dictate that, at the very least, you cut it up a little and move it around your plate. Pretend."

A smile tugs at the corners of Sirius's lips. His eyes fix on Lucius, pale and amused.

"That's lying, Lucius."

"Then you should find yourself up to the task." Lucius sighs and rolls his eyes. "It may be lying, but it's also good manners. Now, eat some."

Stubbornly and calmly refusing to notice that Sirius does not eat some, but instead resumes plucking the petals from the roses - long white fingers slipping through the yellow and white flowers – Lucius returns to his meal. Moreover, he does not pay any attention to the way Sirius's gaze keeps moving back to him.

"Why are you doing this? Aunt Druella hired tutors for Bella and Narcissa. I have tutors for music and language. Haven't you got better things to be doing than teaching me my manners?"

Lucius picks up his wineglass and smiles at Sirius over the thin, swirling red liquid. He takes a sip and watches a flush sweep along Sirius's high cheekbones at his extravagant swipe of his tongue over his lips.

"I take pleasure in teaching you your manners, Sirius."

Sirius mutters something into his own glass, something that sounds suspiciously like weirdo. Lucius is about to challenge him on the point when Sirius loudly slurps at his wine. With great effort, Sirius then burps. It's a delicate burp but a burp nonetheless. He finishes this performance with a sweet smile at Lucius.

"Pardon. Better out than in, as they say."

No one can say Lucius hasn't been a model of restraint up until this very meal. He has withstood two months of Sirius's bad behaviour and pretty face. But he is only human after all. And whereas the professors at Hogwarts have to resort to detentions and menial chores to deal with Sirius and his unruly little friends, Lucius's authority goes much further. This will be good for Sirius and a fitting reward for the weeks of provocation Lucius has endured.

Lucius crumples his napkin and drops it beside his plate. He rises to his feet and lifts his wineglass, as if making a toast to Sirius, then takes a long sip, letting the alcohol buzz warmly through him. He takes his time in everything and the wait is not lost on Sirius.

There's no fear on Sirius's face, not openly anyway. But there's a wariness. His eyes are narrowed and they don't move from Lucius. Sirius even shrinks back a little in his chair as Lucius approaches. The tiny frown that's settled on Sirius's brow doesn't lift at the sight of Lucius's pleasant smile. If anything, it grows deeper.

"Stand up, Sirius," says Lucius.

When he doesn't move, Lucius grabs him by the upper arm, fingers digging into the flesh beneath the thin layer of his robe, and drags him to his feet. Sirius jerks free and rubs at his arm, but he doesn't try to escape. It's just as well for him that he doesn't; escape would require yet another punishment on top of the one he's already earned for his continued disobedience.

"All right, all right, I'll eat the fucking pheasant!" says Sirius.

He tries to sit down again but Lucius wrenches him back upright, provoking a small, pained noise from Sirius. Lucius takes care not to let his smile falter, even though now, with the urge to lay hands on Sirius finally answered after all this time, he feels less than civilised.

"It's too late for that now, I'm afraid. We must move on to a different lesson."

There's been something brought by Lucius to each and every one of these lessons, resting cool and heavy against his chest, waiting for just a moment like this. He draws the slender silver rod from the inner pocket of his robe and holds it up for Sirius to see. The late morning sunlight shines over the metal, and catches on the spark of fear in Sirius's eyes.

"Your mother has granted me full rein when it comes to your lessons, Sirius. She is not interested in my methods, only your progress. I say this now to spare you the humiliation of reporting any perceived wrongdoing on my part back to your mother. Now, do you know what this is?" Lucius holds the rod up between thumb and forefinger. When Sirius remains mute, he smiles slightly and says, "Let me give you a clue."

When he taps his wand against the rod, a glistening sheen instantly appears on the metal and the rod itself begins to shiver between his fingers. The hum of it travels through the very bones of Lucius's hand. He can only imagine how it would feel applied to more sensitive areas. From the look of Sirius's face, wide-eyed and pink lips in a small 'o' of outraged horror, it seems he's imagining it too.

Sirius takes a breath and tries to sit down again.

"All right, I apologise for my poor behaviour, Lucius. I'll eat the pheasant."

There's a delightful note of panic in his voice. It amazes Lucius to think he's still a virgin, especially with what he suspects of Potter, but he can’t believe it's purely that it's Lucius that's provoking this response from Lucius. They've been enjoying a gentle flirtation since the boy was old enough to join the adults after dinner.

"I said it was too late for that, Sirius. Now, good manners don't allow a guest to raise a wand to his host, and as this is your house, I shall make it a polite request: pull up your robe and bend over the table." Sirius's mouth snaps open, as Lucius knew it would, so he raises his voice and speaks steadily and clearly over his protest. "Otherwise I shall have to ask Kreacher to assist me. As a servant of your household, that would be perfectly respectable."

His fingers still curled about Sirius's arm, Lucius draws him closer and leans down to whisper in his ear.

"Do you want Kreacher in the room while I put this inside you? Do you want him to see? Because I'm going to be spreading your legs and putting this somewhere very private and I can't think that you'd feel content to have your house-elf watch but perhaps you can tell me differently."

There's a long moment where Sirius won't even look at Lucius. Lucius can see the muscles in his throat working, his eyelashes fluttering as he furiously blinks back tears. Then, with a gracefulness that's almost serene, Sirius slips free of Lucius's grasp, bunches his robe about his middle and presses himself down over the table.

Lucius tilts his head to appreciate the view: Sirius's white cheek lying flat against the tablecloth, half-veiled by the strands of his hair, his long legs in jeans so scruffy his mother would kill him to see him in them, the curve of his arse perfectly on display.

"I'm glad to see you're going to be reasonable about this. Now, hold very still."

Lucius stills the rod and draws closer, taking care to crowd in behind Sirius and drinking in the tremble that goes through him. But Sirius doesn't move as Lucius carefully draws his jeans and underwear down his legs, even though, if Lucius looks away from the sweep of pale flesh he's exposing, he can see Sirius has his eyes squeezed shut and is biting down on his lower lip.

Sirius's backside is as marvellous as Lucius expected: tight and firm and high. Spanking moves several places higher on the list of appropriate punishments. Lucius toys with the image of having Sirius sprawled across his knee, his buttocks painted rosy by the marks of Lucius's hand – maybe Sirius would even beg for it to stop, with tears running down his face.

The possibilities are filed away for future use. Right now, Lucius has Sirius bent over the table, his jeans around his knees. He smoothes his hand over the curve of Sirius's arse then peels his buttocks apart. Sirius hisses, his spine flexing in protest. It's not to soothe him when Lucius rubs the length of the metal rod along the cleft of his arse. It's simply to hear Sirius draw in breath at the touch of its slick coolness.

"These are incredible little devices," says Lucius as he presses the tip of the rod to the tiny - impossibly tiny – pink hole and begins to push. Sirius's fingers scrabble at the table, his hips jerking away, but the rod keeps on slip-sliding into him, until it's swallowed up. Lucius has to pry his buttocks right apart to see the metal glinting inside him. "There, Sirius, you feel that? Nice and deep."

Sirius's hand fumbles blindly behind himself. His breath comes in small, hitched sobs. He peers over his shoulder, hair falling across his flushed face.

"What- what have you done? You bastard! Get it out! Get it-"

"Not until you've tried the pheasant," Lucius tells him. "Now make yourself decent again and we'll return to our meal."

He waits while Sirius pulls his jeans back up with slow, shaking hands, then takes Sirius's seat and pulls Sirius into his lap. He can feel Sirius squirm, his body a lithe, warm weight, settled directly on his cock. Lucius shifts and Sirius scrambles to keep balanced, no doubt still adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation of penetration.

Lucius wraps an arm about his waist and leans around him to start cutting the untouched pheasant breast into tidy morsels. He forks a piece and lifts it to Sirius's mouth. Sirius turns away, his jawline so rigid his face looks like it's about to shatter under the strain.

"I don't need you to feed me," he says. His voice is quiet and a little hoarse, but remarkably composed. He is a Black, it seems, as much as he distances himself from them and their ways.

Giving a sigh more for drama than because he regrets his next course of action, Lucius taps his wand lightly against Sirius's hip. The effect is immediate. Sirius thrashes in his arms, head falling back and hips grinding down on him. Lucius's cock stiffens even more, straining against his breeches. Seemingly oblivious to the effect he's having on Lucius, Sirius tries to clutch at the table. Lucius whisks his glass of wine out of reach before he knocks it over.

"Do be careful, Sirius. Regardless of the upset, one mustn't cause a scene at the dinner table. Now, what is the matter with you?"

Sirius is still writhing helplessly but he's beginning to get some measure of control over himself. He wets his lips and tries to regain that former, cool composure, even if he can't help the tremors that still rock through his body.

"It's moving," says Sirius through gritted teeth. "Inside me, it's moving. It's-"

The forkful of pheasant gets waved in front of Sirius's mouth again but he ignores it so Lucius shrugs and pops it into his own mouth. As he chews, he rearranges Sirius's body in his lap, settling him on his thighs and feeling the shudder of his body as the rod shivers up inside him.

"It's fucking you, yes. That's what it's designed to do."

There's a hopelessness to Sirius's voice when he next speaks, though he does his level best to hide it. His fingers are still curled tightly about the edge of the table.

"Take it out, Lucius. Take it out or I'll-"

"You'll what? I've told you your mother doesn't care. Will you go running to Daddy? Will you bend over for him, Sirius? Let him finger inside you as he tries to remove it? Do you think he will be impressed to learn that not only is his son a whore, he's not even a very capable one?"

"I'm not-"

Lucius lifts another chunk of pheasant and prods Sirius's lips with it. His lips snap shut, sealing into a tight line, so Lucius lays his fork down and combs his fingers idly through Sirius's hair, tugging lightly at the tangles and smoothing the fall of it back behind Sirius's shivering shoulders.

"A whore? Yes, Sirius, you are. How else do you think we came to this? Do you feel how hard I am?" He pushes upwards to make his point, his cock rubbing against Sirius's arse. "That's from all your wriggling around. And that rod inside you, that's just the first in a long line of things that are going to be shoved inside you. From this day forward, you're going to be spreading your legs, being fucked, being used and come over like any cheap slut from Knockturn, by any number of men. Unless you learn to play the game. You gave me the excuse to do this to you. You know you did."

Sirius doesn't answer that. He simply sits there, on Lucius's lap, while the thing inside him must still be filling him up, stretching his arse open and wet with its endless vibrations. When Lucius brings the pheasant to Sirius's mouth again, his lips part and Lucius is able to slide the mouthful inside. Sirius chews it blankly.

Lucius's hand on his hair becomes proud, almost proprietary. He continues stroking through the soft blackness, even as he rolls his hips to urge Sirius to his feet. As he gets to his feet, Sirius sways a little but he steadies himself without the helping hand Lucius offers.

"Take your jeans back down, Sirius."

It's so kind, Lucius's voice, so understanding. The worst has passed, it says, and now Lucius will make it all better. He watches Sirius push his jeans back down, even as he's unbuttoning his breeches, curling his fingers about his aching, stiff cock. Sirius's head is bowed, his shoulders are slumped. He bites back a noise as Lucius trails the tip of his wand over the bare flesh of his arse, letting it curl under the high curve of one cheek. Then the rod is gliding out of him and he pitches forward, barely catching himself before he falls.

Lucius catches the metal in his hand, feeling it warm and moist in his palm. He throws it to the floor where it lands with a dull thud. Then he slicks his hands over his cock, reaching out with his other hand to catch Sirius's wrist.

"Now, I want you to remember something, Sirius," he says as he draws Sirius backwards and pulls him onto his cock. He holds onto Sirius as he struggles, simply pushes deeper into him - until finally Sirius gives up and sinks down until he's taken Lucius to the root. "Narcissa and I are celebrating our anniversary on Saturday. There's going to be an exquisite meal. And if you can't convince me before then that you can behave in public, I'll have no choice but to make you wear the rod the entire meal. And if you don’t sit quietly while it's inside you, I will explain to everyone why you are making a fuss. I'll even let them see, if they're interested, which I'm sure they will be."

Sirius makes a soft wheezing sound, maybe a response to Lucius's words or maybe to the fact he's so very full of cock. Lucius taps his lips with another forkful of pheasant and smiles as Sirius takes that as well. He presses a kiss to the soft skin of Sirius's cheek and smiles more broadly when Sirius's chewing only falters for a second.

"Delicious," he tells him.

END