Birthright

Lucius looked at the grand staircase, daunted. He turned back to Draco. “Would you like to head down to the salle?” he asked, his voice weak.

“If you would like,” Draco said carefully.

Lucius breathed a sigh of relief. “I haven’t fenced with a true competitor in quite some time.”

“Nor have I.” Draco gestured for his father to lead the way; the fencing salle was tucked away at the back of the mansion.

They suited up and Lucius retrieved their swords. He tossed Draco’s and smiled when his son caught it neatly. Lucius waited for Draco to raise his weapon; they saluted and assumed positions of readiness. “On guard,” Lucius called, stepping forward. Draco’s feet crossed and he moved out of the way of his father’s lunge, parrying with a light touch. Lucius bounced back on the balls of his feet. In a flurry, the two touched swords six times, ending in a long and tense glide that had each pressing his weight against the other’s sword. They retreated.

“You’re much stronger now,” Lucius grunted as he parried an attack.

“And you have been practicing without me,” Draco said, batting his father’s sword away.

Back and forth they dueled, dancing over the mat as if they weighed nothing. They paused for breath, and Lucius circled Draco. His eyes were intense. Draco wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He wiped his forehead and raised his sword once more. Lucius made a quick lunge and Draco barely had time to parry. “Very good,” Lucius purred, attacking again. Draco moved away from his father’s furious attacks. Although Draco was of a lighter build than his father, Lucius had a definite advantage in speed. In strength they were nearly matched, so Draco could draw no advantage there. Basically he was forced to rely on his mental faculties. Lucius was fast, but he was also predictable.

When Lucius made his next attack Draco parried to the opposite side. It was a weak parry, but it threw Lucius off balance and allowed Draco to push him back. “Very tricky, little dragon,” Lucius said, whirling back to face him.

“Thank you. I do try.”

It went on and on without either scoring a point. Lucius was starting to tire, and his rapid footwork was slowing to a pace Draco could match. That was the problem with relying on a speed advantage; it’s the first thing to go when you get tired. Draco was having an easier time predicting his moves now that they had slowed to a reasonable rate, and he came very close to scoring several times. Lucius growled in frustration and pushed him back on an attack. Draco was caught off guard and lost his balance, stumbling backward and making a crashing three-point landing on the ground with shoulder, thigh, and hand.

“Draco,” Lucius breathed, surging forward. “Are you hurt?”

Draco pressed the tip of his sword to his father’s chest. “Touché.” Lucius barked a shocked laugh and offered Draco a hand up. “You always taught me never to underestimate an opponent, even when he is down,” Draco chided.

“Then I taught you well, and forgot my own lesson.” He caught Draco’s hand in his and pulled sharply, tugging his son off the floor. Draco dusted himself off; he missed some and Lucius brushed at his shirt for him. They paused, looking at each other.

“Since I was the winner, I believe a prize is in order,” Draco said. Lucius nodded distractedly. Draco hesitated a moment, looking at his father’s handsome features and down at the perfect lips. Then he gave in and leaned forward.

Lucius evaded him and put his fingers on Draco’s mouth. “Draco, you are young. Foolish, I daresay. I am your father and I should not allow this to continue.”

Draco nodded, but kissed his father’s fingers. His hands met Lucius’ waist and he pressed past his father’s hand. The elder Malfoy did not resist. A jolt of desire made him shudder as Draco’s thumbs stroked small circles on his stomach. Draco pulled back slightly, lips parted, to look at his father’s eyes.

“We should stop this madness,” he murmured.

“I agree.” Lucius kissed him again.

“Why aren’t you stopping?” Draco inquired softly, kissing at his father’s chin.

“I find I don’t really want to,” Lucius said, tilting his head back to give Draco better access to his throat. The younger man took advantage, licking and nipping at the vulnerable flesh. Lucius groaned softly and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders.

“Let me get this out of the way,” Draco murmured, “You are my father. I want desperately to have sex with you. That is, shall we say, rather unorthodox.”

“I do feel a bit improper about the whole thing,” Lucius admitted, ghosting his lips across Draco’s. “Noeleseless, if you will allow me…”

Draco smiled. “Can we at least leave the salle?”

“Good point. Shall we repair to the main floor, then?”

Lucius bent to pick up the sword he’d dropped. Draco grabbed his own blade and removed the padded vest he wore. The vest he hung in the cabinet on one wall. He let his hand linger over the rich cherry doors and looked at his father. Lucius was staring at him unabashedly, and his gaze smoldered. Eyes that coldly blue should not be able to produce such heat, Draco thought with a shudder.