Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: thilia
From: lilmisblack

Title: Just for him
Characters/Pairings: Lily Luna/James Sirius, mention of Lily Luna/others
Rating:NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: Prostitution, incest, mind-fuck, underage
Other Warnings/Content: voyeurism of sorts, felching, lots of talking
Word Count: 1600
Summary/Description: It’s just another way in which he owns her.

Author's Notes: Happy Kinky Kristmas, dear recipient, hope you enjoy!

I stand still, feeling the cold air on my bare skin. I know there’s light around me, but I stay with my eyes closed. In darkness. I don’t want to see.

He’s near, as always. I can hear his footsteps around me, circling me, coming ever closer. He loves to watch me, and I think he loves it even more because I hate it.

It feels like forever as I stand there, waiting, and then, finally, I feel his breath on the back of my neck, the warmth of his body behind me, and in some strange, sick part of my brain I crave this as much as I hate it.

“Open your eyes,” he whispers, and I do as he asks. There’s a mirror in front of me, every wall in the room is a mirror. He loves to watch. But I don’t want to see myself, I don’t want to see the stains, nor the marks left on my body. I don’t want to see the green lace barely covering me. I don’t want to see the way his eyes shine as he watches the traces of other men on my skin.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispers, and lays a soft kiss on my neck that makes me shiver. I can almost feel his gaze on my body, burning, making me feel ashamed, and making me feel alive.

I shiver when he touches me, every time, and however angry I am, however dirty I feel, today is no exception. He did something to me, I know it, back when this all started. Something to make my body respond only to him, to his touch. And even though whatever spell he used is now long gone, my body still comes alive only for him. And he loves it. And I hate it.

“He chose this just for you,” he tells me, but I already knew. Men often choose what they want me to wear, and the last one was no exception. He told me the green looked beautiful against my pale skin. Said it looked beautiful next to my fiery red hair. Said I looked almost as beautiful as my mother had, many years ago, when she wore the lingerie he’d bought her. His silvery eyes shone when he spoke of her. Perhaps he was thinking of her all along. Perhaps that was why he wanted me. I didn’t ask.

“Not the colour I would’ve chosen,” he says, and I feel his finger move down my shoulder, tracing the outline of the bra, ever so slowly, over my breast. “You look best in black.” I close my eyes, and shiver, and feel my nipples tighten, my body tense. I yearn for more.

“Did he like you?” he asks, against my ear. I look at him now, at his reflexion on the mirror, at his eyes, so much like mine, shining with desire. And I say nothing.

“Of course he did,” he says with a smirk, as he moves his free hand down to cup me between my legs, over the lace, feeling the moisture left there by another man. “They all do.”

He pulls me back against him, and I feel him hard, feel his hips press against my back. He loves this. Then he presses a finger against the lace, ever so slightly, getting it only just inside my body, and I’m not sure how I feel any more. “He already asked to see you again. Said his friends would love you, too. He’s having a party next week.”

“James, no,” I beg, my voice barely a whisper, but I know he hears me. He always hears me when I beg. And he always ignores it.

“I told him you were busy next week,” he says, changing the pressure between my legs, making me shiver, “but he wouldn’t be denied. Can you imagine how much a man like him is willing to pay to have Harry Potter’s perfect little girl? To fuck her with his friends?” He smiles a feral smile as he presses his cock harder against my back. “Of course, we don’t have to imagine. I know exactly how much to ask for.”

I look away, and feel his chest shake against me as he laughs.

“Did you like it?” he asks, as he always does. And I whisper, “No,” as I always do.

“How was it?” he whispers. “Tell me.” I close my eyes, try to stop the tears that threaten to fall, and try not to moan as he moves the hand between my legs. “Did he fuck you hard? Or was he gentle with you?”

“Hard,” I say, barely a breath, and he rubs his finger against my clit, a reward for my compliance.

“Where?”

“In his house. His studio.”

“Where?” he asks again.

“The desk,” I whisper.

A second later a desk appears next to us. James wraps his hands around my waist and hauls me onto it roughly, sitting me on the rolls of parchment that cover the surface and then pushing me back to lay down on it, my legs hanging off the edge.

“Just the two of you?” he asks, as he kneels between my thighs and pushes them further apart. There’s another mirror on the ceiling, and as he looks up to watch me I close my eyes and shake my head.

”His son was there.”

James’ hands tighten around my thighs, but still he leans closer, until I feel his breath on my skin. “Did he touch you?” he asks, and I shake my head again. “Of course not,” he says. “He knows the rules.”

Then his mouth is on me, his tongue pressing against the lace covering my folds, tasting me through it, and tasting the come still inside me. Cleaning me. Pleasuring me. Owning me.

My body responds to his every touch, mindless, driven only by desire, and he works it like magic, taking me to the edge, keeping me there. He never makes it so easy.

“What did little Scorpius do? Did the little shit like watching his daddy fuck you?” he asks, his touch vanishing when I don’t reply.

“James,” I moan, not sure what I want to say.

“Did it make him hard?” he asks, and I nod. “Was he jealous? I bet he fucked his fist as he watched you, wishing it was his cock inside you,” he says, as he slides a finger around the knickers, then pushes it inside me, making my back arch as my body tries to pull him further in. “Good girl,” he says, pushing a second finger inside me, and when I open my eyes I see he’s smiling, his eyes fixed between my legs, watching the thick come slipping out around his fingers.

“He’s wanted to fuck you for so long. I remember the first time he came to me, all but begging me to let him have you. Offered to do anything, pay anything to fuck you just once. When it didn’t work he threatened to tell dad about us,” he says, and laughs when my body tenses. “I told him if he ever laid a finger on you I’d kill him, and I made sure he believed me. Keep that in mind when you go back to school next week.”

He starts working his fingers again, his tongue tracing the moisture dripping between my legs, driving me to the edge, making me forget who he is, what he makes me do. In that moment all that matters is the way he can make me feel, the way only he can make me feel. And then, just as I’m about to come, he speaks again.

“Can you imagine, though? Dad finding out? Do you think he’d want to fuck you, too? I think I’d let him do it for free. Would you like that?” he asks, and I’m too far gone to reply, too far gone to stop, too far gone for reason, all I know is I’m finally coming, with my brother’s fingers inside me, and the thought of my dad fucking me stuck in my mind.

I’m still coming when James yanks his fingers out of me, when he grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders, when he thrusts his cock inside me. I scream because it hurts, and it also feels so good, and he silences my scream with his lips, making me taste Malfoy’s come and my own on his tongue, bending my body in half and thrusting deeper inside me than I thought possible. Then he leans back just enough to slide his hand between our bodies and press it against my stomach until he can feel his cock move inside of me. And I come around his cock all over again, harder than before.

He fucks me for what feels like hours, hard and fast and deep, his face turning to one side and then another, watching us from every angle, and I don’t stop coming until he does, too.

He knows I can only come for him, and he makes sure I come hard, and I come often. Just as long as I do what he wants. Because as far as he’s concerned, I am his.

Finally, he steps back and lets his cock slowly slide out, watching his come drip out of me, down between my folds, to pool on the desk under me. And he smiles, satisfied at least for now. It’s just one more way in which he owns me.