Invent a Pleasure

Disclaimer: All familiar characters and situations are Copyright by J. K. Rowling and Co.
Warning: Slash, chan, incest, crossdressing.
Notes: Draco is 14 going on 15. Inspired in part by the time one of my classmates, a high school junior, walked into class wearing a pleated skirt, a girl’s top, and a black ribbon in his hair. Talk about inspiring!

--------------------------------

Lucius knew that the adolescent stage was marked with bouts of sullen silence and strange moods. He knew it to be natural, but did not approve of it at all.

Draco hung about the mansion like a shadow, shunning the outside, preferring the cool damp of the walls to the crisp sunshine of summer. At twilight, he sulked around the grounds, his face set into a dispassionate, disdainful glare. It did not do to talk to him as all that was received in response was either a hard glare or a growled monosyllabic answer.

Lucius was displeased with this state of affairs. A Malfoy heir, no matter in what temperamental stage, always acts in Malfoy fashion. This does not include flitting about like a shade in his house.

As time permitted, he tried talking to the boy, but usually lost his temper and stalked out before any progress was made. Sitting at his desk, Lucius decided to try a different tactic, it never failed before. It would certainly incite some form of a response.

Once his errand was complete, Lucius went in search of Draco. He found him lounging in the garden, twirling his wand absentmindedly.

“Draco, accompany me back to the mansion, I have a few things to discuss with you,” his tone was hard and left no room for argument.

Scowling, but not willing to cross his father, Draco made a show of getting up and dusting himself off before walking towards the mansion. Lucius followed leisurely.

Climbing up the grand staircase, Lucius came upon Draco, standing next to his study, impatiently glaring at a wall. Without a word, Lucius strode past the door and continued into the heart of the mansion towards Draco’s room. With satisfaction he heard the light tread of Draco’s shoes following at a distance.

Lucius settled himself in the straight-backed chair standing before Draco’s desk and waited for Draco to notice the parcel sitting primly on his bed.

“Is that for me, Father?” Draco asked, his show of emotion obviously strained and false.

“Open it up,” Lucius gestured impatiently and Draco went to ripping into the gift paper, pieces of it floating to the ground.

Draco stood astonished when he finally unveiled the contentsthe the box. Incredulously, he lifted out a short, pleated skirt, steel grey in colour, and a strange blouse, the neckline wide cut to expose the shoulders while the sleeves were ample enough to modestly cover the arms.

“Isn’t this – isn’t this a little wrong for me?” Draco laughs breathily, not at all amused.

“You’ll never know until you try, Draco. Now, stop your silly arguments and put it on.” Once again, Draco comes up against the unbreakable, absolute control his father insists on always inflicting upon him.

The boy visibly swall bef before turning away from his father’s eyes, undoing the buttons on his robes. He slipped them off, letting the material pool around his feet. Undoing his slacks, he slid them down, bending over and offering up an excellent view for Lucius, who, with great concentration, studied the subtle shift of muscles under the snow-white skin of Draco’s legs. The flesh looked sweet and Lucius devoured it with his cold gaze.

As Draco reached for the skirt, Lucius tutted, “Everything goes.”

Closing his eyes for an instant, Draco inhaled and exhaled deeply before sliding his undergarments off, acutely aware of his nakedness as Lucius’ gaze traveled like an invading touch.

Each time Draco bent over, Lucius was teased with a view of the inviting dark between Draco’s pale arse cheeks.

Draco struggled to get the skirt up as it seemed too small a size for him. Once he got the tricky zipper closed, the skirt stretched tightly across his hips, flaring fetchingly at the edges.

Lucius discreetly rearranged the folds of his robes across his thighs, eyes never waveringm him his son as Draco continued dressing. The black cloth of the blouse complimented Draco’s pale skin, making it seem almost translucent.

Smiling appraisingly, Lucius beckoned Draco closer with one long finger. “Turn for me,” Lucius said in a tone that ordered obedience.

Draco turned but not to Lucius’ satisfaction. “Again but slower.”

As Draco demonstrated for him, Lucius let his eyes slide from the curves of the exposed shoulders to the flaring collarbones, knobby protrusions, naked and fragile. He noted the out of place bulge at the front of the skirt. The image Draco presented was very pleasing, no matter for its wrongness. The sight was more welcome than if Draco had been naked.

Smiling still, Lucius reached forward and, grasping his son by the hips, pulled him into his lap. Draco landed off balance, eyes darting around frantically. His hands fidgeted before one lowered for balance, pressed against Lucius’ thigh, brushigaingainst a hardness in his robes. Draco snatched his hand away as if he had touched fire.

Soft hands stroked the tops of his thighs, keeping Draco in place. His father’s eyes looked wistful as he kept up the continuous motion.

Unsure of what to do, Draco sat still, trying not to move, the material of the robes rough under the tender backs of his legs. He sat complly wly while the constanay oay of fingers across his skin slowly numbed all sensation.

With one hand lingering on a prim white thigh, Lucius cupped one inviting shoulder and pulled the boy closer to his chest, the blond head fitting under his chin. The fine hair smelled fresh and Lucius leaned his cheek against the dampened forehead.

The hand on Draco’s thigh leisurely crept upwards to graze the edge of the skirt. A touch higher and Draco shuddered, clutching at the f of of Lucius’ robes. When foreign fingers touched him under the skirt, skillful in the manipulations of the flesh, Draco haltingly gasped out, “Father?”

Lucius soothingly shushed him, the warm presence on Draco’s shoulder sliding to stroke idly at Draco’s Adam’s apple, all the while running knowing fingers across the hardening cock hidden under the soft folds of the skirt.

Lucius shifted in the chair and Draco sank between his legs, offering up more exposed flesh as his own legs were nudged open.

As Draco gasped irregularly for breath, eyes clenched shut, his fisted hands whiter than his usual pallor, Lucius could not tear his gaze away from the obscene way his hand moved beneath Draco’s skirt. His own breathing ragged, Lucius burned feverishly with arousal.

“Such a lovely outfit, isn’t it, Draco?” Lucius whispered, squeezing the shaft lightly. Draco whimpered in response.

Lucius flicked his index finger against the pucker that had enticed him earlier and was rewarded as Draco seized up, muscles trembling from the overwhelming sexual strain.

Slowly circling the hot pucker of flesh, Lucius slid his other hand over the damp skin of Draco’s smooth chest, the curve of his bacd sid sides, the thin lankness of his tensed arms.

Draco moaned wordlessly, breath hot enough that Lucius felt it through the cloth of his robes and shirt.

Leaving Draco wholly intact, Lucius moved his hand back to work at inventing a pleasure where there was none before.

The pinnacle reached, Draco shuddered, mouth agape as shocks of pleasure tingled over his lower half, covering it in warmth and stickiness.

Lucius withdrew his sticky hand and wiped it on the skirt, leaving wet smears on the fabric. Draco was still in bliss and did not mind in the least, curling closer to his father.

Lucius, unsated and ravenous for a touch, pushed Draco away before standing himself, looking slightly ruffled.

“You see, Draco, now you have something tink ink of – an experience to make you happy that you were born a man.” He bent his head to place a chaste, fatherly kiss against Draco’s lips and swept one last touch against Draco’s backside. “It’s something to be proud of,” Lucius inclined his head and swept off, looking rather strained, leaving a miffed Draco behind.

Still wearing the strange outfit, thighs sticky with his own seed, Draco lay down onto his bed, thoughts muddled as to what educational value that encounter coulve. ve.

Absently tugging at the hem of the sullied skirt, Draco yawned. Now, here was something to keep him occupied for the whole summer.

End