Title: Taste of Death
Author: torino10154
Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Rufus Scrimgeour
Rating: NC-17
Theme Chosen: Alternate pairing
Other Content: Torture, non-con, CBT, object insertion, whipping, caning, cutting, sadism, murder/character death
Word Count: ~1420
Summary: Scrimgeour isn't talking and it's up to Lucius Malfoy to get the information the Dark Lord wants any way he can.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to gryffindorj for her suggestions and tamlane for the beta. <3 Any mistakes that remain are mine alone. Title comes from Shakespeare.



"What have we here?" Lucius looked down at the Minister of Magic. His left eye was swollen shut and there was blood trickling down his face and neck from the corner of his mouth.

"May as well let me go," Scrimgeour said, defiant. Not yet broken.

Lucius's pulse quickened in anticipation.

Walking behind him, Lucius noted his bound wrists, the rope digging into his skin. With a flick of his wand, he tightened it further and smirked at the hiss of pain he heard as a result.

"Surely you don't believe you've been brought to me for a cup of tea before I see you on your way." Standing in front of him again, Lucius said softly, "I am a very patient man, Rufus."

"I won't tell you anything, Lucius." While Lucius had used Scrimgeour's Christian name to prove there was no barrier left to him, he knew damned well that Scrimgeour did it to show he wasn't afraid of him, not one bit. And Lucius believed it. He felt a muscle twitch in his cheek with annoyance. Lucius never cared overmuch for such stubbornness.

"We shall see." In quick succession he Vanished Scrimgeour's clothing and caused chains to drop from the ceiling and rise from the floor, holding him where he stood.

"I knew you were a disgusting perver—hmph!" he started to say, but Lucius quickly conjured a gag and secured it to his head. It was nothing but a strip of cloth, but it would dig painfully into the sides of Scrimgeour's mouth and his cheeks and make his jaws ache abominably.

"That is only temporary as I fully intend to enjoy your screams for mercy." Lucius then pointed his wand at the length of rope which had previously bound Scrimgeour's wrists and floated it toward his cock and balls. Scrimgeour squeezed his eyes shut as the rough rope wrapped itself around his tender flesh. For a moment, a very short moment, Lucius regretted providing such an unwelcome touch to such a beautiful part of Scrimgeour's anatomy. While his face might have been grizzled and the majority of his body battle-worn, his cock and balls were whole. His cock was long, thick, and a very healthy pink. His balls were good-sized, and Lucius could just imagine the hot, silky skin of his sac and the spring of the curls that grew around it.

Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Lucius pulled out what appeared to be a small metal ball, but when he tapped it once, it grew in size and became a rather large butt plug. He made a show of fondling it in front of Scrimgeour's face and wondered to himself if the man's arse would be as lovely as the front.

"Nearly the size of my fist, wouldn't you say? I don't suppose you'd like to tell me where I can find Potter."

Scrimgeour growled and shook his head; his unkempt grey-streaked hair reminded Lucius of the werewolf to which he now, unfortunately, found himself related.

"I see." Lucius tapped the plug twice, and it leapt from his hand and floated through the air until it was behind Scrimgeour. "I suggest you relax," he said with a laugh, watching as Scrimgeour's eyes first widened and then squeezed shut, watering as the plug shoved its way into his arse.

A low, guttural groan bubbled up from his throat, and Lucius removed the gag in time to hear his first cries of pain, his cock taking notice then. Seeing someone in discomfort was enough to arouse him, but outright distress was truly something to behold.

Scrimgeour was panting harshly, and his body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

Lucius reached out a hand and gripped his hair, tipping his head back. Looking into his eyes, he said softly, "Tell me where Potter is, and I will Obliviate you and let you go. The alternative is far less pleasant, I can assure you."

Scrimgeour grit his teeth together, exhaling through his nose before he responded. "Do I look like I'm in a position to put trust in you?"

"You always were an intelligent man, Rufus." Lucius stepped away, releasing the hold he had on his hair. He picked up his favourite whip, black as sin; the handle was sturdy but felt like it moulded to his hand when he gripped it. The fall and the popper were made of the most elegant and supple leather, whose beauty betrayed the evil bite they could give when handled correctly. Lucius trailed the leather over his hand before giving an experimental flick. Scrimgeour stiffened visibly at the crack and Lucius laughed. "How many do you believe you can endure, I wonder."

Lucius positioned himself behind Scrimgeour, admiring his broad shoulders for a moment before raising the whip.

"Argh," Scrimgeour managed after the first lash, "bastard."

Clearly Lucius wasn't putting enough effort in. Warming to his recurring role as the villain of the tale, Lucius began raining down lashes, raising welts with abandon. His cock, already stiff, seemed to pulse with each stroke of the whip. From his shoulders down his back to his buttocks, Lucius worked until the hisses of pain were transformed to true cries of agony.

He paused a moment to catch his breath—magic was so much less work than Muggle forms of torture—then stepped around to face Scrimgeour. He dropped the whip and Summoned a cane, holding out his hand to catch it.

"Potter?"

Scrimgeour shook his shaggy head. "Never."

Without hesitation, Lucius brought the cane down on Scrimgeour's cock, eliciting a blood-curdling scream as his entire body went rigid in pain. Lucius ever so slightly regretted injuring such a lovely appendage but needs must... Lucius waited until Scrimgeour's breathing evened out to say, "I would hate to have to cut it off to get you to talk."

"Sadist," Scrimgeour spat.

"Yes, I am," Lucius replied and brought the cane down again with a crack, his own cock hard beneath his robes, even as he watched Scrimgeour's flesh purple with bruises.

"Potter's whereabouts?"

"I don't care what you do to me, Malfoy. I will not tell you anything."

"Very well." Lucius threw aside the cane and pulled out his wand. "A little spell our dear Severus created. It's as cutting as he is," Lucius said, amused at his own sense of humour.

A quick flick opened a thin cut just over Scrimgeour's heart, droplets of blood beading at the surface. Lucius slashed again, this time a little harder, and a gash opened above Scrimgeour's navel.

His face paled as he looked down and watched his blood run down his abdomen. Lucius had an entirely different reaction to the sight of blood...he could feel his balls draw up tight, the pressure in them intensifying almost to the point of pain.

Another slash and another trickle of blood. Flick. Beneath his nipple. Slash. His upper thigh.

Unable to resist any longer, Lucius pressed the heel of his palm to his cock through his robes, shuddering slightly at the relief the pressure brought.

"You filthy—" Lucius slashed wildly and a deep cut appeared at Scrimgeour's clavicle.

Lucius pointed his wand and shouted. "Crucio!"

Scrimgeour screamed, his body twitching, blood visibly increasing with the movement. However, Lucius was tired of toying with the man.

"Where is Potter? I will not ask you again, Rufus," Lucius said. "We will find him, even without your help."

Scrimgeour held his gaze but remained silent.

Lucius nodded his understanding. It seemed he planned to sacrifice himself for Potter.

Yet another in a long list of fools.

Striding toward him, Lucius kicked Scrimgeour in the bollocks with all his strength, the answering shriek deafening Lucius momentarily. The final slash of his wand slit Scrimgeour's throat, blood spurting copiously from the wound.

"Farewell, Rufus." He could still see the shallow rise and fall of Scrimgeour's chest, his heart pumping rapidly in an attempt to live but, in a lovely twist of irony, actually killing Scrimgeour all the faster. His eyes had gone glassy, and only the chains supported him.

Lucius then called for a house-elf, not giving his prisoner another thought. "Bring a change of robes, as well as one of the ladies in the Manor, to the blue guest room."

"Pipsy is bringing Mistress?"

"Absolutely not, you filthy creature. You will punish yourself for suggesting such a thing. I need a whore, not my wife," Lucius said with a sneer then strode from the room, Scrimgeour's blood congealing on the floor.