Mirror Images

Disclaimer: All Characters belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this.

Draco stood in front of the huge ornate mirror. He was fresh from the shower, and was wearing only the briefest of towels.

He looked critically at himself in the mirror, not entirely happy with what he saw; a little on the thin side, although starting to fill out, but all in all, he wasn’t too disappointed.

He ran his hand through his hair, down past his jaw and over his throat, fingertips pressing lightly as the hand trailed down over his collarbone. His nipples peaked as he ran his fingers gently, but slowly; one by one, over them.

Draco felt the first flush of arousal, and watched his reflection, fascinated as his pupils expanded and a faint blush of colour tinged his cheeks. He could see his erection, half hard beneath his towel. There was a secretive, furtive thrill in watching his own pleasure, it was in some ways even more intimate that sharing that pleasure with a lover.

His hand dropped lower, slipping under the towel. Although the towel didn’t exactly cover much, the sight of his hand, sliding over the erection hidden beneath it, as he slowly stroked himself to full hardness, sent a wave of arousal through him. He forced himself to keep his strokes slow, luxurious, not wanting to rush, wanting the slow build up, the steady heightening of sensation and pleasure.

“Now, that’s a very welcome sight to return home to…”

Draco raised his eyes, and met those of his father in the mirror. He smirked when Lucius looked away, drawn by the movement of Draco’s hand. He had to fight even more now, to keep his rhythm; to not give in to the temptation to chase his climax too quickly. The wait would be worth the effort, he knew. Even more so, now that his father was there with him.

Lucius shed his cloak, and cane by the door. He moved across the room as Draco watched, stripping and dropping his clothes negligently to the floor as he drew closer to his son.

Finally he stood right behind Draco, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more. Draco was breathing shallowly, hard and *wanting*. He was close enough that Draco could feel the warmth of his body. As Draco watched, Lucius raised his hand and drew a fingertip up Draco’s arm, fingers curling lightly over his bicep, over his shoulder. When they reached his throat, the fingers curled, pressing more firmly. Draco heard his own breath catch, and his hand, which had almost slowed to a stop sped up again, until he could regain control.

Lucius moved closer. Close enough that Draco could feel just how much the show had affected the older Malfoy. Lucius clearly couldn’t help himself at the touch, his hips thrust once, twice. Draco gasped, and Lucius stilled again, although Draco smirked at the deep, unsteady breath that the elder took.

Lucius dropped his other hand to Draco’s waist. He ran a fingertip along the edge of towel. Draco could feel the goosebumps that finger left in it’s wake, and resisted the urge to shiver. Lucius watched him for a second longer, then hooked his finger under the towel, and pulled it away.

Draco tried to keep the same, slow motion, but in fighting the urge to increase his pace, his grip tightened, and that was almost as good. He watched his mouth open, his breath come in pants as he rode the line between pleasure and pain, the friction of his own hand against his cock almost on the verge of becoming raw. Lucius had taught him well.

He wasn’t surprised when Lucius slid the hand still clasped loosely around his throat to the nape of his neck and pushed him closer to the mirror. There was a very good reason why there was a chair in front of the mirror and both were on a raised dias. A Malfoy rarely did things without reason.

Draco took his eyes away from his father’s in the mirror only when his feet touched the edge of the raised platform. He looked down, stepped onto the dias and then stopped. He dragged his hand away from his cock, and placed both hands on the back of the chair, leaning slowly forwards, enjoying the way Lucius’ eyes widened slightly as he did so. Lucius’ hand stroked slowly down from the nape of his neck, running down the line of Draco’s spine, finally trailing over his buttock.

Draco watched Lucius drag his eyes away from the mirror to look directly at the body of his son, spread out in front of him. Draco’s arousal was spiked by the satisfaction of seeing the tell tale signs that Lucius’ calm façade was beginning to crumble. At times like this, Draco would have been hard pressed to say which of them was the biggest slut.

Lucius summoned the phial of lubricant from it’s usual place, raising his eyes again to the mirror, to meet Draco’s, the smirk now back on the elder Malfoy’s face. Draco sucked in a breath as two of Lucius’ fingers breached him, as always without warning. The burn of being stretched arched his back, and almost closed his eyes, but the reflected glitter of Lucius’ eyes in the mirror held him.

A few strokes was apparently all that Lucius could stand tonight. Draco watched his father’s face as he removed his fingers, slid his hands over Draco’s buttocks and round to clasp his hips, and thrust, slowly. He saw the expression of pleasure that flitted across his father’s face, and it added another layer to the sensations. His head dropped forwards, as he welcomed the raw friction as Lucius took him to sharpen the edge of his own pleasure. Lucius paused, not to allow his son time to adjust, Draco knew, but to better savour the moment.

Lucius moved, a sudden withdrawal, and a hard sharp thrust in, and his back arched, his head snapping up to meet his father’s in the mirror once more. He could see the tiny ring of colour around Lucius’ dilated pupils, matching his own, and the same flush on both their cheeks. Draco watched the smirk settle back over his father’s face, and he *knew* what was coming next. He felt an answering smirk bossom on his own face.

Lucius pulled back, and then slammed home, fucking him in earnest now.

Draco held his eyes in the mirror as long as he could, trying, as always, to outlast his father. Inevitably, he didn’t. Before he dropped his head, he saw the now bright colour staining both his and Lucius’ cheeks, same the same wild look in their eyes. Then he gave in, his head drooping, his eyes closing, leaving nothing but the sound of their laboured breaths; the feel of Lucius’ fingers, gripping and flexing on his hips; the bittersweet pleasure/pain of Lucius’ cock; the sordid thrill of knowing that it was his father fucking him, making his body burn.

Such a dirty thing, so wonderfully right and so horrifyingly wrong, in equal measure, and Draco loved it. Bent in front of a mirror, taken, owned, watching his own defilement.

Draco felt the pleasure both of the act, and of the knowledge of the act rush through him, felt his body tense and muscles begin to tighten.

Lucius must have felt it too, his hand now sliding from his son’s hip to clasp Draco’s cock. Draco’s body tensed even more, and heard the soft grunt that indicated that Lucius had definitely felt that too.

It took no more than strokes of Lucius’ hand, and a squeeze, to take Draco over the edge. Somewhere in the midst of the ensuing, lost moments, Draco was dimly aware that his father was coming too, but he was far too caught up in his own pleasure to take much notice or to care very much.

When he finally raised his head, the smug, satiated smirk on his face was perfectly replicated on his fathers.

Lucius pulled away, stepping back, as if to admire his efforts better.

“You’d better have another shower, we have guests arriving soon”

Draco nodded, limply, smirking even more at the still slightly breathless tone of his father’s voice. He watched in the mirror as Lucius collected his clothes, slipped his robe on and moved silently out of the room. Draco collected his discarded towel and headed slowly back to the bathroom.