Promise Me This
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Draco/Lucius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
32,762
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Draco/Lucius
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
32,762
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Promise Me This
Title: Promise Me This
Author: Gertrude Flint
Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Lucius knows how to make sure Draco remembers him during the school term. PWP.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling and various corporations. I\'m only borrowing some Malfoys.
Warnings: Incest. Chanslash: Draco aged 13-14.
Archive: If you want it, ask me.
A/N: Just a nice old-fashioned PWP, nothing fancy. About 1,600 words. Also posted to these LiveJournal communities: blond_azkaban, hp_incest, malfoycest.
That last afternoon, before the start of another year at Hogwarts, Draco is summoned to the library to find Father waiting on the big leather-covered sofa, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
\"Disrobe,\" he orders.
Draco eagerly lets his robes slide to the floor. He wears nothing beneath; no need, here at home, where his task is to keep himself in readiness for Father\'s pleasure. Anticipation shivers deliciously across his naked skin. How will he be taken this time?
Father beckons, and Draco runs forward to climb on his lap and straddle his thighs, twine his arms around Father\'s neck, bury his face in the silky curtain of hair pale as his own. A tiny sigh of contentment escapes him; Father laughs quietly, speaking his name in a voice deep and rich and filled with desire.
\"How you\'ve grown this season, my son,\" he says, stroking Draco\'s shoulders, caressing his arms. \"It pleases me to look at you. Very much.\"
Draco has always tended to blush easily, and knows his face is turning pink now. It\'s true -- though he\'s not nearly as tall as Father yet, he has grown, and feels inordinately proud of the new golden curls beneath his arms and between his legs.
Still, he blushes at the praise, and wriggles, pressing himself urgently into the hardness beneath Father\'s robes, and turns his head to sigh into Father\'s ear: \"Fuck me... please, now, please fuck me, please...\"
Not that he expects his wish to be granted at once; no, he accepts that it\'s entirely up to Father to decide what they do together, and how, and when. But Draco is permitted to ask, especially if Father is in a relaxed, amused mood, as he is today. He\'s allowed to ask for what he wants so badly -- to beg for it, rubbing himself against Father\'s body in his need.
Oh, he wants.
And now his bold speech has earned him a kiss, and more: Father takes his mouth fast and thoroughly, one hand firm on Draco\'s neck, the other sweeping down to find him already hard. Draco whimpers as Father\'s hand closes around his cock, whimpers again when it releases him just as quickly, and loses himself in the kiss. Oh -- ohh, but Father\'s kisses do this to him every time -- they taste of pure dark power, stealing his soul as relentlessly as any dementor, leaving him mindless and frantic with the need to be opened and filled, used and made to come.
Draco shudders, pressing closer. He pulls at Father\'s hand, trying in vain to make it touch him again.
\"Oh yes, you are lovely like this, my son.\" Father\'s lips brush a trail down Draco\'s neck. \"And how delightful it\'s been to have you here all summer -- always at hand --\"
Father raises his head, and the hunger in that gray gaze lets Draco know he is also seeing a hundred memories from the summer now gone by: the season when Draco not only shared Father\'s bed at night, as before, but learned to welcome and please him at any time.
On his back in the rose-garden, the grass cool and damp beneath him, lifting his legs to let Father thrust even deeper. Bending forward over a desk, a table, a chair -- in the morning-room, the dining-room, anywhere -- robes hitched up around his waist as Father entered him from behind. Once even half-way up the grand staircase, on his hands and knees, his cries echoing through the Manor\'s entrance hall. Most recently, this very morning -- Father out on the second-floor balcony, enjoying the view of the park while Draco knelt at his feet, stroking and sucking and swallowing.
Now Father closes one hand around Draco\'s balls, rubbing them gently. The other hand slides from Draco\'s neck down his spine, slowly, further and further. His eyes still hold Draco captive. \"I do believe I\'ll miss you when you\'re gone,\" he murmurs. \"The question is -- will you miss me?\"
Draco\'s reply is a wordless gasp, as Father\'s touch reaches the cleft of his arse.
\"Shall we make sure of it, then?\"
Draco watches, his breaths quickening, as Father\'s hand reaches out lazily for the small flask of oil on the side-table nearby. The house-elves have been instructed to keep those flasks replenished all summer, in every room of the Manor.
\"Here -- show me how well you can prepare yourself.\" Draco\'s hand is guided down to his own entrance; his slim fingers entwine with Father\'s larger ones, all slippery with oil. \"Open yourself for me.\"
Draco shuts his eyes and obeys. Impatiently, he thrusts in two fingers at once, too fast, and winces -- and Father chuckles, kissing him again.
\"And now I\'ll set down this little discipline for you, to aid your memory. This term, you will wake half an hour earlier than usual, every morning...\"
Father\'s hand covers his, and while Draco works and stretches his own opening Father\'s fingers rub the tender skin just outside it, his touch as insistent as his low, commanding voice.
\"...and behind the curtains of your bed you\'ll oil your fingers and prepare yourself, exactly as you are doing now. Will you do that for me, Draco?\"
\"Y-yes,\" he manages to say, and no more, since he\'s slipped in a third finger -- and he wants, he wants, his cock is begging to be touched, but he can\'t, he knows he mustn\'t --
\"Good, very good,\" says Father, petting his hair. \"I shall enjoy the thought of you doing that every day. Alone in your bed, in the dark, all open and eager -- and hard, hmm?\"
Suddenly Father\'s hand grasps his cock again; Draco\'s back arches and he whines aloud, fucking his own fingers even harder, desperately. Now he uses the tip of his thumb as well, but it\'s still not enough, nowhere near enough... When Father invites him to beg, he\'s more than ready.
\"Yes, this is how I\'ll picture you -- with all your blushes, all those greedy little moans, how delicious they are! Fingers not enough for you, hmm? Do you want more? Tell me what you want, Draco...\"
\"You -- your cock in me, please, now, please, I want --\" Draco opens his eyes and looks up at Father, pleadingly, through a haze of need.
Father\'s smile is approving, cruel, perfect. \"And you\'ll have it, now. I will take you now, oh yes, very soon --\" For a moment he presses two fingers up between Draco\'s legs, hard, just behind his balls; the sound Draco makes at that seems to please him. \"But I won\'t be with you then, will I? I won\'t fuck you then -- so will you still do as I bid, I wonder, if I make it clear that you shall not touch your own cock, all those mornings in your bed -- you shall not be allowed to come...\"
Draco doesn\'t understand, and doesn\'t care -- because what does then matter when now his cock is so hard it hurts, and his passage is slick and aching to be filled, and his fingers don\'t reach far enough, and if Father doesn\'t take him soon he\'ll cry.
\"That is exactly what I wish you to do, my son,\" Father whispers, his voice an irresistible force in itself. \"Every morning this term, you shall open yourself, preparing to accept me even though I\'m far away -- and as your fingers work, as your heart races and you grow hard, you\'ll think of me, think of my cock, how it feels inside you --\"
\"Yes -- please, Father, please...\"
\"Stretching you, filling you --\"
\"Father fuck me, please fuck me, now Father, please...\"
\"Making you scream, making you come --\"
\"Please, oh please -- now, want you...\"
\"-- and you\'ll ache and cry for me to take you -- but you\'ll have no relief, no release, because I won\'t be there, will I? So you will rise from your bed, every morning, exactly as you are now -- empty, hard, unsatisfied, wanting me in you...\" Father kisses him once more, as if to claim what is already, entirely, his. \"And you will remember, always, that you -- are -- mine.\"
\"Yours... yes, yours, yes, please...\"
\"Promise me this, Draco,\" Father whispers, still stroking and petting him. \"Promise me you\'ll do as I ask -- promise, and I\'ll take you, I\'ll fuck you now --\"
\"I promise!\" Draco sobs out the words, writhing, unable to endure any more. \"Yours -- always, promise... now, Father, please!\"
\"Good boy,\" Father purrs -- then parts his robes, and lifts Draco easily, holding his hips -- and brings him down onto his cock, fast, sliding all the way in with one thrust.
Draco\'s scream is cut off by another kiss, this one brutal and unrestrained, taking everything. His hands clutch at Father\'s shoulders as another thrust sparks sweet lightning deep inside him, and when Father speaks again Draco can only form one word in reply.
\"My son --\" says Father, driving into him again and again.
\"Yes...\"
Piercing him, filling him. \"My toy --\"
\"Yes...\"
Possessing him utterly. \"My slave --\"
\"Yes...\"
\"My whore --\"
\"Yes...\"
\"Come for me,\" Father hisses, his hand around Draco\'s cock. \"Come for me now --\"
And Draco does, helpless in ecstacy, spilling himself over Father\'s hand and the front of his robes -- a moment before Father\'s other hand urges his hips to move faster, harder, and Father\'s mouth descends on his, and he feels Father shudder within him in his own release.
When he can breathe again he finds himself slumped against Father\'s chest, with Father\'s head resting on his, the long pale hair tumbling down to cover them both.
\"My son,\" says Father. \"Always mine.\"
* * * * * * * *
Author: Gertrude Flint
Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Lucius knows how to make sure Draco remembers him during the school term. PWP.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling and various corporations. I\'m only borrowing some Malfoys.
Warnings: Incest. Chanslash: Draco aged 13-14.
Archive: If you want it, ask me.
A/N: Just a nice old-fashioned PWP, nothing fancy. About 1,600 words. Also posted to these LiveJournal communities: blond_azkaban, hp_incest, malfoycest.
That last afternoon, before the start of another year at Hogwarts, Draco is summoned to the library to find Father waiting on the big leather-covered sofa, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
\"Disrobe,\" he orders.
Draco eagerly lets his robes slide to the floor. He wears nothing beneath; no need, here at home, where his task is to keep himself in readiness for Father\'s pleasure. Anticipation shivers deliciously across his naked skin. How will he be taken this time?
Father beckons, and Draco runs forward to climb on his lap and straddle his thighs, twine his arms around Father\'s neck, bury his face in the silky curtain of hair pale as his own. A tiny sigh of contentment escapes him; Father laughs quietly, speaking his name in a voice deep and rich and filled with desire.
\"How you\'ve grown this season, my son,\" he says, stroking Draco\'s shoulders, caressing his arms. \"It pleases me to look at you. Very much.\"
Draco has always tended to blush easily, and knows his face is turning pink now. It\'s true -- though he\'s not nearly as tall as Father yet, he has grown, and feels inordinately proud of the new golden curls beneath his arms and between his legs.
Still, he blushes at the praise, and wriggles, pressing himself urgently into the hardness beneath Father\'s robes, and turns his head to sigh into Father\'s ear: \"Fuck me... please, now, please fuck me, please...\"
Not that he expects his wish to be granted at once; no, he accepts that it\'s entirely up to Father to decide what they do together, and how, and when. But Draco is permitted to ask, especially if Father is in a relaxed, amused mood, as he is today. He\'s allowed to ask for what he wants so badly -- to beg for it, rubbing himself against Father\'s body in his need.
Oh, he wants.
And now his bold speech has earned him a kiss, and more: Father takes his mouth fast and thoroughly, one hand firm on Draco\'s neck, the other sweeping down to find him already hard. Draco whimpers as Father\'s hand closes around his cock, whimpers again when it releases him just as quickly, and loses himself in the kiss. Oh -- ohh, but Father\'s kisses do this to him every time -- they taste of pure dark power, stealing his soul as relentlessly as any dementor, leaving him mindless and frantic with the need to be opened and filled, used and made to come.
Draco shudders, pressing closer. He pulls at Father\'s hand, trying in vain to make it touch him again.
\"Oh yes, you are lovely like this, my son.\" Father\'s lips brush a trail down Draco\'s neck. \"And how delightful it\'s been to have you here all summer -- always at hand --\"
Father raises his head, and the hunger in that gray gaze lets Draco know he is also seeing a hundred memories from the summer now gone by: the season when Draco not only shared Father\'s bed at night, as before, but learned to welcome and please him at any time.
On his back in the rose-garden, the grass cool and damp beneath him, lifting his legs to let Father thrust even deeper. Bending forward over a desk, a table, a chair -- in the morning-room, the dining-room, anywhere -- robes hitched up around his waist as Father entered him from behind. Once even half-way up the grand staircase, on his hands and knees, his cries echoing through the Manor\'s entrance hall. Most recently, this very morning -- Father out on the second-floor balcony, enjoying the view of the park while Draco knelt at his feet, stroking and sucking and swallowing.
Now Father closes one hand around Draco\'s balls, rubbing them gently. The other hand slides from Draco\'s neck down his spine, slowly, further and further. His eyes still hold Draco captive. \"I do believe I\'ll miss you when you\'re gone,\" he murmurs. \"The question is -- will you miss me?\"
Draco\'s reply is a wordless gasp, as Father\'s touch reaches the cleft of his arse.
\"Shall we make sure of it, then?\"
Draco watches, his breaths quickening, as Father\'s hand reaches out lazily for the small flask of oil on the side-table nearby. The house-elves have been instructed to keep those flasks replenished all summer, in every room of the Manor.
\"Here -- show me how well you can prepare yourself.\" Draco\'s hand is guided down to his own entrance; his slim fingers entwine with Father\'s larger ones, all slippery with oil. \"Open yourself for me.\"
Draco shuts his eyes and obeys. Impatiently, he thrusts in two fingers at once, too fast, and winces -- and Father chuckles, kissing him again.
\"And now I\'ll set down this little discipline for you, to aid your memory. This term, you will wake half an hour earlier than usual, every morning...\"
Father\'s hand covers his, and while Draco works and stretches his own opening Father\'s fingers rub the tender skin just outside it, his touch as insistent as his low, commanding voice.
\"...and behind the curtains of your bed you\'ll oil your fingers and prepare yourself, exactly as you are doing now. Will you do that for me, Draco?\"
\"Y-yes,\" he manages to say, and no more, since he\'s slipped in a third finger -- and he wants, he wants, his cock is begging to be touched, but he can\'t, he knows he mustn\'t --
\"Good, very good,\" says Father, petting his hair. \"I shall enjoy the thought of you doing that every day. Alone in your bed, in the dark, all open and eager -- and hard, hmm?\"
Suddenly Father\'s hand grasps his cock again; Draco\'s back arches and he whines aloud, fucking his own fingers even harder, desperately. Now he uses the tip of his thumb as well, but it\'s still not enough, nowhere near enough... When Father invites him to beg, he\'s more than ready.
\"Yes, this is how I\'ll picture you -- with all your blushes, all those greedy little moans, how delicious they are! Fingers not enough for you, hmm? Do you want more? Tell me what you want, Draco...\"
\"You -- your cock in me, please, now, please, I want --\" Draco opens his eyes and looks up at Father, pleadingly, through a haze of need.
Father\'s smile is approving, cruel, perfect. \"And you\'ll have it, now. I will take you now, oh yes, very soon --\" For a moment he presses two fingers up between Draco\'s legs, hard, just behind his balls; the sound Draco makes at that seems to please him. \"But I won\'t be with you then, will I? I won\'t fuck you then -- so will you still do as I bid, I wonder, if I make it clear that you shall not touch your own cock, all those mornings in your bed -- you shall not be allowed to come...\"
Draco doesn\'t understand, and doesn\'t care -- because what does then matter when now his cock is so hard it hurts, and his passage is slick and aching to be filled, and his fingers don\'t reach far enough, and if Father doesn\'t take him soon he\'ll cry.
\"That is exactly what I wish you to do, my son,\" Father whispers, his voice an irresistible force in itself. \"Every morning this term, you shall open yourself, preparing to accept me even though I\'m far away -- and as your fingers work, as your heart races and you grow hard, you\'ll think of me, think of my cock, how it feels inside you --\"
\"Yes -- please, Father, please...\"
\"Stretching you, filling you --\"
\"Father fuck me, please fuck me, now Father, please...\"
\"Making you scream, making you come --\"
\"Please, oh please -- now, want you...\"
\"-- and you\'ll ache and cry for me to take you -- but you\'ll have no relief, no release, because I won\'t be there, will I? So you will rise from your bed, every morning, exactly as you are now -- empty, hard, unsatisfied, wanting me in you...\" Father kisses him once more, as if to claim what is already, entirely, his. \"And you will remember, always, that you -- are -- mine.\"
\"Yours... yes, yours, yes, please...\"
\"Promise me this, Draco,\" Father whispers, still stroking and petting him. \"Promise me you\'ll do as I ask -- promise, and I\'ll take you, I\'ll fuck you now --\"
\"I promise!\" Draco sobs out the words, writhing, unable to endure any more. \"Yours -- always, promise... now, Father, please!\"
\"Good boy,\" Father purrs -- then parts his robes, and lifts Draco easily, holding his hips -- and brings him down onto his cock, fast, sliding all the way in with one thrust.
Draco\'s scream is cut off by another kiss, this one brutal and unrestrained, taking everything. His hands clutch at Father\'s shoulders as another thrust sparks sweet lightning deep inside him, and when Father speaks again Draco can only form one word in reply.
\"My son --\" says Father, driving into him again and again.
\"Yes...\"
Piercing him, filling him. \"My toy --\"
\"Yes...\"
Possessing him utterly. \"My slave --\"
\"Yes...\"
\"My whore --\"
\"Yes...\"
\"Come for me,\" Father hisses, his hand around Draco\'s cock. \"Come for me now --\"
And Draco does, helpless in ecstacy, spilling himself over Father\'s hand and the front of his robes -- a moment before Father\'s other hand urges his hips to move faster, harder, and Father\'s mouth descends on his, and he feels Father shudder within him in his own release.
When he can breathe again he finds himself slumped against Father\'s chest, with Father\'s head resting on his, the long pale hair tumbling down to cover them both.
\"My son,\" says Father. \"Always mine.\"
* * * * * * * *