Happy springsmut, themadmermaid! Author:hecticity Recipient:themadmermaid Title: The Art of Seduction Rating: R Pairing(s): Lucius/Narcissa Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Lucius was Narcissa's pawn from the very beginning, but she was only playing the game out of love. Warnings: First time sex. Also, it might be fluffier than you wanted, but only by a tiny bit, I swear. Word Count: ~5700 Author's Notes: I may have fudged the timeline of Abraxas’ life a bit, but my research didn’t turn up an exact date of his death. My thanks to my beta for all of her help (you will be credited after the reveal). Thanks especially to the mod for giving me the time to do this story justice. I really hope that you enjoy it, themadmermaid!
Eying the couple in the corner, Narcissa made a face. "People like that give us a bad name. Particularly her."
"You think so?" Lucius asked. His gaze followed hers, but all he saw was a couple kissing in the corner. They lacked decorum, yes, but at least they had the sense to keep it in the Common Room, where they would only be criticized by their fellow Slytherins.
Slytherins were their harshest critics, of course, but as long as they had no reason to shame their housemates, no one outside their house would ever know.
"Think about it," Narcissa said easily. She folded her hands elegantly in her lap. "Their pride in themselves, and in each other, comes from making a show of their sexuality. What kind of standing in society could they possibly be hoping for? Laughingstock?"
"Perhaps it's just a dalliance," Lucius said. He certainly knew quite a bit about dalliance, and from the shrewd look Narcissa was giving him, she knew that about him, too.
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she looked away, back at the couple. "You wouldn't think so if you heard the gossip in the girl's dorms," she said with a secretive smile. "He might think that, but you can bet your fortune that she doesn't."
Lucius shrugged. "That's not unusual. I'm sure she's being pressured by her parents."
"We all are," Narcissa pointed out, giving him a look. "You really don't understand, do you?"
"I don't see why it's so important that you feel the need to lecture me about it," Lucius answered. He wondered, not for the first time, why he bothered to listen to her.
Her answer placated him a little bit, although it was a backhanded compliment if he'd ever heard one. "I thought you were smarter than him, Lucius."
Lucius looked at his housemate in the corner, allowing himself to be pressed against the wall by a girl who - according to Narcissa, at least - was willing to give up some of her dignity simply for a chance at his last name.
"Of course I am," he said after a moment. Narcissa's smile was disconcerting. "But that doesn't mean that he can't tell exactly what she's doing."
"That's possible," Narcissa agreed amicably. "You'd know better than I, I'm sure. But isn't that what most of us dream about? A high status marriage, power and influence... and excitement. None of us want to end up dry and boring, or old and cynical."
"Like our parents," Lucius finished for her.
Narcissa smiled. "Then you can see how he might be... persuaded."
"Yes," Lucius was forced to admit. "But she'd have to play it very, very carefully. If he knows what she's doing..."
"He'll pull away as soon as he realizes what she's after, if she hasn't proven herself worthy of his name by then," Narcissa interrupted. "Yes. If she realizes that, she certainly isn't showing it."
She paused for a long moment, and Lucius wasn't sure if she was going to speak again. She was watching the couple, apparently unashamedly interested in the dynamics of their relationship. Lucius watched her, curious.
Finally, her eyes met his again, and she smiled. "What were you thinking?"
"Wondering why it matters to you," Lucius said honestly. "I don't see how it affects you personally."
"It doesn't," Narcissa agreed. "But I like to understand other people's motivations. It might be useful one day."
That was a statement that Lucius couldn't disagree with.
***
"You're a gossip," Lucius accused her one afternoon.
By this time, it had become something of a habit for them to do their schoolwork side by side on the couches, although the schoolwork very rarely got done. Or rather, it had become Narcissa's habit to join him on the couches whenever he wasn’t terribly busy. She always seemed to know when he wouldn't mind being interrupted, and when her strange brand of conversation might even be considered a welcome relief from the tedium of ordinary schoolwork.
Lucius had an appreciation for her understanding of propriety, and he in turn made an effort to be somewhere else whenever he didn't want company. As long as she wasn't turned away directly, there was no harm in it.
There were very few times when he stayed away simply to avoid her, and then only when it was beginning to seem improper to talk to her too often. He had an aloof, holier-than-thou reputation to uphold, after all.
But she never failed to entertain him, and she often surprised him, as she did now.
"No," Narcissa answered calmly. "I watch and I listen. I don't talk about what I'm told, I don't spread rumors." She glanced at him. "And I only tell you what I observe."
"Why?" Lucius asked, curious. He believed the first part, at least, but he had never given her any indications of being trustworthy or willing to listen. She had simply begun talking to him one day, and he had never been able to fathom why.
Her secretive smile indicated that she had purposefully kept him in the dark, but when she spoke, her words were straightforward, her tone honest. "Because you're not a gossip either," she said gently. "Because I know that if you were to use the information, you'd do it for the same reasons I would."
Lucius regarded her with grudging respect. "To serve my own purposes," he answered, although she hadn't asked him a question. He was rewarded with a nod, and he laughed softly. "How do you know what those purposes would be?"
"I don't," Narcissa said, although something in her gaze told him that she had a fairly good idea. This was the first indication she'd given that she watched him as carefully as she watched everyone else, and although he'd expected it, it still gave him a bit of a jolt. "But I still think I would understand."
Those words stayed with Lucius for a long while. He made an effort to keep his expressions even more unreadable, to remain imperturbable whenever she was nearby. Although she had said that she didn't know what his purposes were, his instinct told him that she had designed even the most innocent conversations to learn more about him. Never mind that Narcissa's normal methods of observation usually meant that she was silent, watching and listening, whereas with him, she was the talkative one, and he the one who listened.
She had given him information that she'd explicitly said she wouldn't use except for her own purposes, therefore she must have a purpose for telling him. It wouldn't have bothered him so much if he'd been able to understand her machinations, even a little. But she held her cards close to her chest, and even though he knew her means, he could not see her end.
Eventually, his mind was soothed by the passing of time. He even began to wonder if she simply, genuinely wanted someone to talk to, with no ulterior motives. But he never forgot.
***
In their senior year, everyone was on edge. They were preparing to leave school, and out in the real world, war was brewing. For his part, Lucius was eager to participate in something much bigger and far more important than his schoolwork.
Between studying for his NEWTS, attempting to socialize and network (a task that was far more important than his marks, although he still refused to be anything less than a perfect student), and mentally preparing for war, Lucius did not have much time to talk to Narcissa.
The few times that they did talk, she didn't mention his long absences from the Common Room. He appreciated that, because he had a feeling it would lead to conversations that he didn't particularly want to have. The war was the elephant in the room, and most people didn't want to bring it up. Narcissa was as well-mannered as the rest of the people he knew - even more so, probably - but around him, she didn't seem to see the harm in talking about things that no one else dared to.
However, she had an appreciation for the gravity of the situation, and he often got the impression that she intended to distract him from it. Not with completely inane chatter - nothing that came out of her mouth was ever completely inane, Lucius had observed - but with her rather keen observances of the people around them. Talking to Narcissa became more of an indulgence than a habit.
Until one day, when he hadn't had the time to talk to her for quite a while – a few weeks, perhaps. Earlier he had received a letter from his father, which - among other things - had expressed concern for his son, and his choice to risk his life. Distracted from his work, Lucius had put off his homework, and when he finally dragged himself up to the Common Room after curfew, to find that only a few people were still lingering on the couches. One of them was Narcissa.
After hesitating only for a moment, Lucius moved to take a seat on the couch beside her. It was the first time that he had chosen to initiate a conversation, although he had never been uninviting. From the warmth in Narcissa's smile when she looked up at him, he guessed that she understood the significance of that.
"Lucius," she said, in a soft voice that he had never heard her use before. He found it strangely comforting. "It's late, and you look tired. Maybe you should go to bed."
Lucius shook his head, and she accepted that, shifting on the couch to face him, her legs tucked elegantly beneath her. She rested one elbow on the back of the couch and considered him, waiting for him to speak. That was new, too.
Until he opened his mouth, Lucius hadn't been sure what he was planning to say to her. Her mere presence made some of his tension drain away, and he had thought that would be enough.
"There's so much I want to do," he found himself saying, watching the fire crackle in the hearth. "But sometimes I wonder if this year will ever end. Or if it does, whether... everything else will live up to my expectations."
When she didn't answer immediately, he looked up to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes were clear, with no trace of judgment or pity, only understanding.
She smiled at him. "You've taken a great deal of responsibility upon yourself," she said calmly. "More than most of us have. But that's what we Slytherins do - we reach for the stars. And you are the best of us, Lucius."
The compliment rolled easily off her tongue, without even the slightest hint of flattery or deceit. Blindsided by the honesty of it, Lucius had no idea what to say.
Narcissa studied his expression for a moment, and laughed softly. "Yes, I do believe that," she said, touching his shoulder. "And I believe that you will find a way to get everything you want."
Lucius wasn't sure what inspired him to do it. All he knew was that in the firelight, her skin looked warm and soft, her eyes a perfect shade of blue, her mouth curved up in a smile, and suddenly he wanted very badly to kiss her. He leaned in, seeing comprehension dawn in her eyes, and kissed her smile as it widened even more.
Her lips tasted like the chocolates she was so fond of, with a hint of the pumpkin juice she'd had at dinner. He savoured the feeling and taste of it for a long moment before she pulled away, eyes shining, smiling at him. She raised a demure finger to his lips, shushing him.
"Goodnight, Lucius," she said, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."
Without waiting for a reply, she stood and picked up her bag, retreating towards the girls' dormitory. Lucius found himself eying her slim figure as she left, and smiled to himself before heading to bed as well.
He fell asleep easily, and this time there was a new element to his dreams - a beautiful blonde woman that he came home to at the end of the day, tired from battle. She didn't speak, and barely touched him, except to smile and wash the blood and grime from his hands and face.
When he woke, he felt rejuvenated, and he had a new goal in mind.
***
As graduation drew closer, rumors were spreading faster than ever before. Lucius no longer needed Narcissa to tell him her observations, although she did; his extra networking effort had been successful, and he had ears in all the right places. None of the information he got was certain, however, and it frustrated him to no end.
Of the most import, at least in Slytherin House, was the speculation about who would take the Mark. Lucius heard his own name a few times, and those of the Lestrange brothers. Unlike most, he was not particularly surprised to hear a whisper that Bellatrix Black had already put in her name to the list of Death Eaters; yes, she was a pureblood lady like her sisters, and she knew her manners, but she hadn’t taken too kindly to Lucius’ association with her younger sister, and he’d already had a taste of her wrath. Then, of course, there was Crabbe and Goyle, who were the quintessential brutish minions, in Lucius’ opinion. He might have made use of them himself, but he preferred to fight his own battles.
For the rest, he considered them for a long while, making his own judgments about the student in question. Then he consulted Narcissa.
"Nott?" she said thoughtfully, when he brought it up. "It’s possible. He’s always been very secretive, not quick to voice his opinions. I’ve always wondered about him."
"I always thought he was waiting for an opportunity," Lucius said, voice dry. "I was expecting an attempt to blackmail me into doing something for him… but perhaps he’s set his sights higher than the school’s social hierarchy."
That made Narcissa laugh. "We’ve all set our sights higher, haven’t we?" she asked, amused. Then she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "We can find out more about him later.”
As much as he doubted the wisdom of asking his next question, Lucius had to agree. "That’s all of them," he said. "All but the ones I’m certain are rumour, at any rate. Except… your sister."
Narcissa’s smile was odd, difficult to interpret. Her voice sounded a bit weary, as if she had been asked that question many times. "Which one?"
"Bellatrix," Lucius said, surprised. If Andromeda had been suggested as a possible servant of the Dark Lord, this was the first he’d heard of it. On the contrary, there was a rumour that she loved a Muggleborn, although her family had been careful to keep that quiet. He contemplated asking about Andromeda, too, but decided against it.
"Bella," Narcissa said, eyes fixed somewhere on the other side of the room. "Yes. My parents aren’t sure whether to be proud, afraid, or disappointed."
"Sounds like my father," Lucius said, thinking of the way his father’s letters had ceased when he’d finally had no more to say on the subject.
Narcissa glanced at him, smiling a little. "I suppose so," she concurred. "Well. Since Bella’s chosen to fight rather than marry, and Andromeda is refusing to heed my parents’ advice when it comes to husbands…" She glanced at Lucius, knowing that he understood that she was confirming more than one rumour. Lucius could not help but admire how tactfully she’d handled it. "I’m under quite a bit of pressure, and unexpectedly soon, as you can imagine."
He could indeed. And yet it still surprised him somewhat, since he had not noticed her making any attempt to draw attention to herself.
When he looked up again, Narcissa was contemplating him, her expression unreadable. He gazed back, raising an eyebrow, and was rewarded with a smile. After a significant moment of silence, she spoke.
"I’ve heard your name quite a few times," she said, as if the conversation had never turned to family and marriage. "And since you’ve told your father, I assume you’ve made your decision."
Lucius smirked. "I might as well have come out and said it," he said, amused. "You didn’t even need your tricks to work that out."
He was expecting her to smile; that particular, pleased smile that she only gave when she was right. Instead, she simply nodded, eyes solemn, her fine features set. She did manage a smile when Lucius’ smirk began to fade, and her eyes took on a glint that looked like a mixture of pride and worry.
"With you and my sister on one side, the war might as well be won already," Narcissa said, briefly touching his cheek. She got to her feet and picked up her bag, looking down at him. "Still. I know it’s early, but it seems appropriate to wish you good luck."
"It’s not luck I’ll need," Lucius informed her, tilting his head back to hold her gaze as she stood.
"I suppose not," Narcissa agreed. "You need skill, strength, strategy… but those are all things you have." Her look softened for a moment. "Therefore, I’ll wish you luck."
Lucius’ mouth twitched, eyes on hers. He inclined his head to accept her good wishes, and watched her go.
He needed all of those things, of course, and he supposed good luck couldn’t hurt. But what he needed – what he really needed – was an ally he could trust, an alliance outside of the war.
The stone wall that was the entrance to the dungeons closed behind Narcissa, and Lucius couldn’t help feeling that he had just watched that ally walk away.
***
It wasn’t until he had taken his Mark, and his plans for war were set in motion, that Lucius allowed himself to turn his mind to his plans for marriage. When it came to the Dark Lord, a step out of line, a single mistake could be fatal. Narcissa, on the other hand – she was a prize, to be sure, and not one that he would give up easily, but if she really was as perfect as he thought she was, she would wait.
He hadn’t told her that he planned to marry her. He hadn’t even kissed her again – there simply hadn’t been time. Still, he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew, and the rumors that he had turned down all of the suitors her parents had been trying to make her choose from gave him hope.
You are the best of us, Lucius, she had told him. If he had judged her correctly, which he dearly hoped he had, she wasn’t willing to settle for anything less.
He didn’t show up at the Black residence unannounced; that would have been rude. However, since the war rather interfered with his social schedule, he wasn’t able to give them very much notice, either. Thankfully, his request for an audience with Narcissa and her parents was accepted, and his father was willing to attend, much more easily persuaded to support his son’s marriage than his servitude to the Dark Lord.
They were well received, though the looks on her parents’ faces did not make Lucius particularly optimistic. He had to admit that he might not have been particularly pleased with himself as a match for the jewel of Cygnus and Druella Black’s eyes: for one thing, he couldn’t offer anything more than an engagement, and they couldn’t know whether he would even live to make it to his own wedding, if the war went as badly as his own father feared. On top of that, they probably thought he was just another suitor that Narcissa was like to refuse, another hope for their daughter’s future crushed, as small as that hope might be.
It grated at his pride, and Lucius was determined to prove them wrong. He stayed calm and remained impeccably polite throughout the whole meal, willing and able to discuss any subject. He handled the subject of war gracefully, if he did say so himself.
"Although I do believe that war can further the ideals of pure blood and forge a better world for us all," he said smoothly, "I hope that even the Dark Lord would agree that our lives should not be devoted solely to fighting. We must fight for victory, and meanwhile prepare to sow the seeds of a new world within our own families. Our children are the future, after all."
Lucius thought he saw even cold Druella’s eyes gleam with something akin to the pride he himself felt in his choices, and knew that he had them. All that remained was Narcissa, and her expression was hard to read.
"With that in mind," he finished, as the dinner drew to a close, "I have come here today in the hopes that your family will join mine in creating that future. Lord and Lady Black… with your permission – and your daughter’s, of course –" he smiled at Narcissa – "I would marry Narcissa."
"Narcissa?" Cygnus asked, turning his head to look at his daughter. "What do you have to say?"
There was a strange, almost triumphant shine in Narcissa’s blue eyes when Lucius finished speaking. "I will marry him, father," she said, voice clear and strong, breaking the hush of anticipation that had fallen over the table. She met Lucius’ eyes, and Lucius felt a little thrill of happiness, pride, and a tiny amount of disbelief – for he had only just understood why she looked so triumphant, so pleased with herself.
From the beginning, she had been aiming for this very moment, weaving subtle threads in a pattern for him to follow unknowing, until she had inserted herself into his dreams for the future. She had slowly made him aware of everything she had to offer – intellect, tact, loyalty, subtlety – and managed to make him think that he had come to the realization all on his own. This was her end; this was the moment she had been waiting for all along.
Despite himself, Lucius was impressed. And that, truly, was the magnificence of her plan. How many times had she spoken derisively about women who made blatant, futile attempts to win the affections of the men they hoped to marry? About how their relationship would be over as soon as their game became obvious? He knew now that she only despised their tactics, not their goals – a thing which no one other than him would guess, because she had only showed her hand to him.
She was far more cunning than most people gave her credit for, able to manipulate even Lucius, who prided himself on being able to see through such things. He should have been angry, but her triumph was his own, too – he shared the glory of this moment. He deserved – and probably needed – a wife that could hold her own, whose goals aligned with his own, and who knew how to make them come to fruition.
He had lost track of the conversation, he realized with a start. His father was drinking a toast with the Lord and Lady Black, and all of them had smiles on their faces, much more pleasant than the polite smiles they’d worn throughout the evening. And as for Narcissa… his beautiful fiancée was still looking at him, her previous triumphant look replaced with pride. Pride, Lucius was again startled to realize – although it shouldn’t have startled him, he knew – in him. She knew that he had understood exactly what she had intended him to understand, and was pleased with his reaction.
Reaching across the table, he held out a hand. A small smile graced his lips as she offered him her hand in return, and he slid the ring he had chosen onto her finger. For a moment he admired the perfectly cut diamond, circled by tiny emeralds and set in silver, which looked as though it belonged on her elegant fingers. Then he lowered his head, eyes never leaving hers, and brushed his lips against her knuckles. Whether it was an acknowledgment of her success or a gesture of surrender, he couldn’t say.
***
The engagement was a torment for both of them.
Lucius spent his every free moment with his fiancée, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He longed to come home to her at night, as he had done in his dreams. At the moment, however, it simply wasn’t possible. His nights were spent alone, restless with the burden of the days spent behind a mask, too tired to sleep and impatient for the morning to come so that another day would pass. Every day drew him closer to his wedding, and yet it seemed so far away.
They set one tentative date, and then another. Narcissa was given the task of doing the majority of the organization for the wedding, with the help of her mother, but she didn’t seem to mind. She told Lucius once that it helped to ease her mind, for the rest of her time was spent worrying over him or trying to soothe the tension in her household caused by the void once filled by two other daughters. After that, Lucius stopped apologizing, and gave his input whenever he could, trusting that the wedding would be a simple task for her compared to ensnaring him.
It happened in the winter, which would not have been their first choice of seasons, but the frosty atmosphere (with the help of a few clever winter-themed decorations added at the last minute by the elves) gave the affair a peaceful ambiance, for all that the bride and groom to be were nearly bursting with impatient excitement. It took place in the garden behind the Manor, with the help of multiple charms to keep the snow from falling on their heads, and to keep them warm. Even Lucius admired the full scope of the arrangements, everything from the flowers and lights to the way the guests had been seated, not a single detail forgotten. Once again, he was in awe of Narcissa’s genius.
He forgot all of it when she stepped out into the aisle on her father’s arm, resplendent in a long, pale pink dress that made the most of her slim figure and added color to her cheeks, her blonde hair done up in a coif and accentuated with pinkish pearls. She was visibly glowing, and that wonderful victorious look was back in her eyes, so evident in her every purposeful step, that Lucius wondered whether it was possible that no one else could see it. When her eyes fixed on him, that look buoyed him up, until he felt as though he could have walked on air.
And then it was done. He had said his vows, kissed his bride, and attended his reception, as much as he dearly wanted to escape it. Finally, finally they were truly alone together, with the entire night – and their entire lives – stretched out before them.
To Lucius’ surprise, Narcissa looked a bit nervous, although she was hiding it well. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Never good with physical comfort, he gently retrieved the pearl pins in her hair and ran his fingers through her blonde locks as they fell around her neck.
"No," Narcissa answered serenely, looking up at him. She leaned into his hand as it brushed her cheek. "It’s only that this is your area of expertise, Lucius. Not mine."
She said it with such solemnity that it didn’t make Lucius laugh, although he thought that under other circumstances he might have. Instead, he ducked his head to kiss her, urging her to lift her arms so that he could remove her dress. She wrapped her arms willingly around his neck, and her fingernails dug ever so slightly into his scalp as the dress fell to the floor, her undergarments following shortly after.
Her cheeks were even more flushed when he lifted his head to look at her, and he wondered whether it was from the kiss, or due to embarrassment. She gave no other sign of nervousness, holding herself tall and steady as if she was dressed like a queen instead of completely exposed to his eyes. After a long pause, she lifted her hands and undid the buttons of his robe with careful deliberation.
Lucius waited until she was done before stepping close to her, eager for the sensation of her skin against his. He curled an arm around her waist and all but crushed her against him, claiming a second kiss. And she, who held all the cards of their relationship, who had staked her claim on his heart and his future – she surrendered to him this time.
If she had planned this too, it had the desired effect: Lucius felt victorious, knowing that he had conquered her, as well. When the initial rush of pride gave way to desire, affection lingered, and he touched her gently, all too aware of how precious a gift this was. He would do for her what she had done for him – he would share his glory, and make this night a triumph for her, as well.
As much as he wanted to take her quickly – for he had been dreaming of this for a very, very long time – he pressed her gently back against the bed, his body covering hers as he joined her. He ran his hands down her sides and felt her respond, her back arching into him.
It was an achievement in and of itself to make her move on instinct, without her normal, deliberate precision. Inspired, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her throat and the lines of her shoulders, shifting ever so slightly to one side above her to touch every inch of her skin that he could. When his fingertips traced her inner thigh, he elicited the first sound from her: a soft moan from parted lips swollen from kissing him. She watched him through her eyelashes, fingers curled tightly in his hair, a bit of colour accenting her skin wherever it had come into contact with his.
Nerves alight with anticipation, Lucius used all of his skill to tease her mercilessly, tracing patterns along her thighs and through the patch of damp curls between her legs, until her hips lifted every time his fingers drew close to her slit. He lowered his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth, grazing his teeth gently over the pebbled skin, and was rewarded with a whimper of pleasure.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he spread her folds with gentle fingertips, finding them slick and hot with desire. She shuddered when his fingers brushed the little pearl that was the centre of her pleasure, again and again, until her entire body trembled.
"Lucius," she breathed, saying his name like a prayer, and Lucius felt a shiver go down his own spine. Her hands tightened in his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, her body pressing against his in offering, and her moan came out muffled against his mouth. "Please, Lucius…"
Pure lust, long held back by his self-control, flooded his veins. There was no possible way he could resist her now, not if her pride had disappeared enough to allow a plea to pass her lips. Holding tight to the last remaining strands of his restraint, he aligned his hips with hers and entered her as slowly as he could, muffling his own groan against her shoulder. Salazar help him, but she was tight and hot around him. It took all of his strength to move at what felt like a tremendously slow pace, but he managed it with sheer willpower alone. She tensed and clung to him, breath coming in uneven gasps, her eyes shut tight against the initial discomfort, but she relaxed again when he stopped, sheathed inside her.
Lucius watched her until she opened her eyes, and saw the tension drain out of her expression when she saw his face. She smiled at him, still breathless, and wrapped her long legs tight around his waist, arms curling around his shoulders as her hands stroked his hair. He took that as permission to continue.
After a moment of awkward, disjointed movements, they found a rhythm and moved together, and the next minutes blurred together in Lucius’ mind. Pleasure built higher and higher inside him, until he thought it couldn’t possibly grow more unbearable, and then she shifted carefully against him or raked her nails over his back and proved him wrong. He felt her tense and arch beneath him, and then shudder, her head falling back with a moan, and he came deep inside her, unable to stifle his own moans as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.
He collapsed against the bed beside her and pulled her close against him, burying his head in her shoulder. She came willingly, curling against his chest, and he felt her panting for breath. After a moment, she thought to pull the covers up over them, and their eyes met as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. She wore an expression of utter satisfaction, and affection made her icy blue eyes warmer than usual. It made Lucius smile.
Later, he would have her again: once in the shower, moving inside her to the rhythm of the water cascading over their skin; once against the wall, before even making it back to the bed; and once with her hands tied to the bed post and her legs spread for his questing mouth, until her muscles trembled with exhaustion when her body lifted eagerly to meet him and her throat was raw from moaning his name. And even then, he would not have had his fill of her, but he would fall asleep beside her anyway.
For the moment, he was content to lie there with their limbs entwined, bodies recovering, heartbeats slowing as they caught their breath. After a few minutes, growing drowsy, Lucius kissed her throat.
"I can’t wait to see what your next game is," he said softly. He traced her collarbone with his lips.
He felt her smile against his chest. "Who says I’m planning one?" Narcissa asked, fingers trailing over the nape of his neck. "I have what I want. I’ll play your games from now on."
"Well," Lucius said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "At least we’ll never be bored."