A Father's Love, for madam_minnie Mod Note: For those who were watching closely this evening, you'll notice that a fic was posted and immediately deleted. There were technical issues with that post, and it will (hopefully) be up tomorrow with all issues fixed. ♥ Eey
Title: A Father’s Love Author: *unknown* Recipient:madam_minnie Pairings: Lucius/OMC, Lucius/Draco Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, incest, and biting. Word Count: ~2500 A/N: Sorry that I couldn’t fit in all of your requests, but I was really feeling the UST part of the prompt :) I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! DH Spoilers: None
Draco was huddled in the dark of the coat closet, pressing his face against the fur of his father’s favorite winter coat. Memories assailed him: the first time father had praised him; the first time he’d ridden a broom, father watching with pride; and the first time father had ever hugged him, wearing this very coat. He breathed the scent of it in and wished, not for the first time, that Voldemort’s death had meant the return of his father’s attentions.
If only it could have been like it was before that snake had come back.
If only it could have been... more.
When he was younger, his father had been grooming him for his place in society, giving him constant lessons in manners and economics and politics. He was always taking him on trips with him, introducing him to men of power and influence, showing him by example that money held sway over all.
And then Voldemort had stolen him away from him.
That bastard was always stealing his father away from him, and Draco had resented it from the very beginning. Leaving Lucius to rot in Azkaban had been the last straw, however, and Draco had worked with all his might to help the side of the Light bring about Voldemort’s downfall. Pretending to be his loyal little Death Eater had been hard, but oh how it had been worth it. He’d even managed to earn his father amnesty and save the Malfoy estate from seizure by the Ministry.
He’d thought Lucius would be proud. He’d thought that his father would welcome him into his arms and begin teaching him again, but instead he’d been cold and distant. Azkaban had changed him. And now he was spending nights away, usually when mother was home from abroad, and he hardly talked to Draco at all...
Draco heard the front door open to a gust of wind. Could it be? Draco straightened and moved towards the closet door. Voices echoed off the high ceilings of the Manor, indistinct, and then he heard his father’s rich voice rumble through the air and another voice, this one deeper, laughing. Yes, it was just what he’d been waiting for. The front door fell closed with a loud bang, and Draco pressed his ear against the coat closet’s door, trying desperately to hear something of what his father and his unknown companion were saying.
Instead, a pop of Apparation sounded as one of the Malfoy family’s many house elves appeared in the front hall. Draco could hear its high, squeaky voice ask for their coats and gloves.
The sound of rustling cloth barely reached his ears and then his father’s voice could be heard again, still too indistinct. Draco scowled as that deeper voice responded, and when his father chuckled low in his throat Draco felt himself burn with something... jealousy? His father had never laughed at anything he said... much less in his presence.
Finally, the voices approached his hiding place. Footfalls sounded on the thick carpet of the hallway outside, and Draco began to breathe more shallowly, willing his heart to stop beating so loudly. He felt like a small child playing hide-and-kick with the House Elves. In fact, that may have been the last time that he’d seen the inside of the front hall’s coat closet...
“... the club. Merlin, Lucius, you’re such an awful tease...”
Draco jumped at the sudden clarity of those last words. Were they right outside the closet?
“Now now, Robald, don’t tempt me or I’ll take you right here–”
“Sirs are going to sit in the study? Nippy will serve sirs the best of Master’s Scotch! Sirs will –”
Draco flushed red and retreated into the dark recesses of the coat closet. Who was this Robald man? And what the hell was happening –
“Where is your lovely wife this evening, Lucius? Will she be joining us for our nightcap?”
“You know very well that Narcissa isn’t here, Robald. Why else would I invite you in?”
Draco’s breathing picked up as their voices kept getting closer to the hall closet—what if Nippy opened the door to put their coats away before they reached the study? Shit!
“The esteemed Mrs. Malfoy away from home? And leaving your bed cold...”
“It won’t be cold for much longer,” Lucius growled, and then there was a loud thud! and the door that Draco hid behind rattled in its frame. Draco stumbled back even further, tripped over a spare cane of his father’s, and landed in a heap on the floor.
“Sirs should not be doing that in the hall! Sirs needs to be going to Master’s rooms before –”
Nippy’s frantic voice went unheeded, and Draco heard his father groan in passion before the door began to rattle even more, rhythmically this time, and Robald cried out inarticulately.
“I’ll take you right here, Robald. Would you like that? Would you like my hard cock –”
“Yes! Want you... want you in me...”
The sound of tearing cloth made Draco gasp, and then –
“Ooooooh, fuck. Fuck, Lucius, your hands are amazing. Don’t stop – don’t...”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll beg me to stop, Robald,” Lucius panted. “But first...”
An abrupt pop! of Apparation later, and the hall outside the coat closet fell silent.
Draco hardly noticed as the door opened, and Nippy said nothing to him as she hung Lucius and Robald’s coats. Perhaps she didn’t notice Draco sprawled across the floor in the back corner of the closet.
And perhaps she’d seen the hard bulge in the young Master’s trousers – and hadn’t wanted to intrude.
He could hear them fucking in the dining room. Probably smudging the shiny mahoghany table as they rutted like bloody animals. Draco gritted his teeth and fled to the west wing of the house, intent on his bedroom. It was probably the only place they hadn’t soiled yet –
But he felt no better in his room. Instead, a surge of anger drove him to punch the wall with all his might.
He turned his back to the dented plaster, clutched his bleeding knuckles to his chest and slid to the floor, already fighting tears. It wasn’t fair! It... it wasn’t fucking fair! Robald had been in their home for four days, and Draco hadn’t seen his father except for lunch yesterday and breakfast the day before. That stupid frenchman had kept Lucius wrapped around his little finger the whole time, sneering at Draco whenever he stared at him for too long.
He couldn’t help but stare, though. This was the man his father had chosen instead of him? This was the man who had stolen his father’s affections from him? And what did he do for Lucius that Draco couldn’t do?
Draco looked down at his hand. He watched it swell and bruise and tried to ignore the confusing way his cock throbbed in his pants.
This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t bloody normal. Draco leaned back in the bath, cock in hand, and tried not to think about his father. Tried so damn hard not to think about his long, silvery hair. His strong arms. His steady shoulders and hard eyes.
Draco groaned and kept stroking himself, too turned on to stop. The vanilla-scented bathwater moved around him sensually and he gripped the edge of the tub with his toes. He’d heard them again today, fucking in the gardens. And then he’d come around the corner of the house and seen them...
He kept pumping his cock with urgent strokes, but his other hand crept down between his legs, curious.
He’d seen his father’s muscular back. His gleaming hair. His ass as it clenched and moved...
Draco gasped as his hole was breached by one fumbling finger. So.... tight. How...? His cock softened a bit, but he kept stroking himself in earnest. He had to know how...
Lucius had been fucking Robald furiously. Long, hard thrusts that rocked Robald harder and harder into the ground. All Draco could see of him were his feet and calves locked around his father’s waist and it had been so easy – so easy to imagine himself under that powerful body...
He pushed a second finger in next to the first, wincing at the pain. Water sloshed in the bath and he imagined his father thrusting into him the way he’d been thrusting into Robald. But he’d be looking down at Draco and whispering his name...
Fuck, but this was wrong. Was this... was this why he’d been so jealous of Robald?
He scissored his fingers inside himself, and when he rubbed against something... something rough... it felt so good that he cried out.
He pulled on his cock harder and faster and moved his fingers in and out of his hole, trying to simulate the act he’d seen in the gardens. His heart was beating so fast, so fast and loud that he thought he’d explode and then –
“Father!” he screamed, shooting come up into the air with such force that it splattered against the wall. “Oh... oh Merlin... oh, father...” he was panting as his fingers slipped out of his ass. Panting and trembling as if the bathwater had dropped twenty degrees. “What am I going to do?”
That last was said as a whisper, but it did not go unheard. A shadow detached itself from the corner and a moment later the bathroom door fell closed.
Robald was finally gone. Wonderfully, blessedly gone. Draco smiled at his father across the breakfast table and felt ten stone lighter.
“Is mother coming home today?” he asked brightly, waiting for Nippy to butter his toast.
“No,” his father answered, turning a page of the Daily Prophet before taking another delicate bite of his omelette.
Draco tried to hide his confusion. “Oh... so it’s just us then? That’s... that’s good.”
Lucius smiled at something he was reading. “Yes, I thought it was time that our guest was sent home. He was beginning to get... demanding. You know what I’ve told you about obligations?”
“That a Malfoy has no obligations?”
Lucius turned another page of the Prophet and then reached for his water glass. “That’s partly right, my Dragon. We have no obligations – except those that we have to ourselves and those that we have to our family.”
Draco tried to hide his smile this time, but it escaped him. His father hadn’t called him by his petname in years...
Lucius took a long draught of water and then placed it down with a dull thud. “And I have an obligation to you, Draco. One that I have not fulfilled despite all that you have done for me and for this family.” Draco’s smile slipped from his face and he watched in confusion as his father folded the Prophet and laid it aside. “I realize that you have been waiting for me. Staying in this house without occupation. Riding your horses and reading your books and wandering the halls without direction...”
Lucius’s cold, grey eyes met his and for an instant, Draco’s heart stopped. “...and for that, I apologize.”
“Father... father, you don’t have to apologize. I...”
“I should have given you something to do, Draco. I should have put your considerable talents to work for our family, but I have been lax. In fact, I have not even begun your marriage arrangements.” His eyes seemed to pierce straight to Draco’s core. “Can you ever forgive me?”
The breakfast room fell silent. Nippy was so still that her eyelashes barely fluttered over her huge, bulbous eyes. Lord Malfoy had never asked for forgiveness. Never in his life.
“O-of course,” Draco breathed.
And it felt like life had been breathed back into the room. “Come here, son. Please.”
Draco stood so fast that his napkin fell to the floor. “Father, father I...”
“Son, come to me now,” he repeated, turning from the breakfast table and holding his arms open.
Draco felt the beginnings of tears at the sight, but he fought them back as he made his way across the room and fell to his knees in front of his father. “Father, father, I missed you...”
“I know, son. I know,” Lucius answered gravely, pulling his son to him so that he could stroke his luminous hair.
Draco pushed his face into his father’s lap, trembling and trying in vain to hide his tears. “Do you love me?” he whispered.
“Always and forever,” Lucius answered.
Draco shuddered against him, but did not move away when his cock grew hard in his pants. If Lucius noticed it against his leg, he said nothing.
That was the first night that Lucius came to him. At first, Draco thought he was dreaming; they’d just had a perfect day going over the family accounts and investments, and Draco had fallen asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in years.
So when the bed dipped beside him and woke him from slumber, he had turned into his father’s embrace without a thought. It was so warm and so good. So very right. And his father kept telling him what a good boy he was. It didn’t matter that he was 19 years old and already a man. It didn’t matter that he fit against his father’s body like any other man would. He was his father’s little boy, and he craved his love so much that his cock throbbed against Lucius’ thigh as he kissed him.
It was so perfect. It was what he’d been waiting for his whole life.
“Draco, my sweet, sweet Draco...” his father crooned into his hair as his hands undressed him.
“My fiery Dragon,” he whispered, pulling Draco’s pants down to lick him.
“Mine,” he growled, slipping a finger between Draco’s legs and up inside him.
“Father... father!” Draco shouted, overcome by the sensations. “Please love me! Love me!” He writhed against his body, wanting him the way that Robald had wanted him. Wanting him deep inside him.
“I love you, son,” he moaned, before sliding inside Draco’s slicked entrance, stretching him to his limits and making him cry out in pain and pleasure. “I’ve always loved you...” and then he began thrusting, and both of them were lost in each other. “This is how... how it should have always been...”
Their moans filled the room, echoing off the high walls, and when Lucius felt Draco pulse between them, covering him in his come, he bit down hard on his son’s shoulder, emptying himself inside him as he marked him as his own.
Weeks passed. Narcissa didn’t come back, but neither man seemed to notice. And if Draco’s wedding arrangements never seemed to progress past the negotiation period, it was just assumed that the Malfoy heir was too picky for his own good.