Mirror Images - Reversed

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

Lucius strode purposefully down the corridor. He paused suddenly, outside an unremarkable door, resting his hand on the handle for a moment, then quietly opened the door and slipped into the room beyond.

He saw Draco, standing in front of the huge mirror, looking at himself. No, not looking, watching, as his own hand slipped under the tiny towel he was wore. Lucius smirked as he watched Draco stroke himself, slowly, teasingly. He felt the stir of arousal from the furtive delight of watching his son pleasuring himself.

When he raised his eyes, he realised that Draco hadn’t noticed his arrival. As tempting as it was to stay where he was and simply watch, he wasn’t in the mood to wait until Draco was finished before pursuing his own pleasure.

Moving slowly towards the mirror, he decided to make his presence known.

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

Draco looked up, and met Lucius’ eyes in the mirror, the very beginning of a smirk appearing on his face. Lucius dropped his eyes, again drawn by the motion of his son’s hand, hidden beneath the towel. He could tell that Draco was fighting his natural instinct to speed up, to find that blissful release. Lucius watched closely as Draco regained control of himself, the boy knew well that the rewards of waiting would be more than worth it.

He removed his cloak, and left his cane next to the door. He crossed the room, Draco’s eyes following his movements in the mirror as he shed his clothes, heedless to where they landed. Lucius watched his son in return, seeing Draco’s arousal grow, even as his hand slowed even more.

Lucius halted behind his son, meeting his eyes in the mirror. Draco was almost panting, his hand still caressing his own flesh, and clearly wanting what Lucius was only too willing to gift to him.

He raised his hand, watching Draco’s eyes to widen slightly, even as his pupils dilated further, then stroked Draco’s arm, brushing lightly with the tips of his fingers, moving up and curling his fingers around his son’s bicep, then up, across his shoulder. Draco sucked in a breath, sending a wave of arousal through Lucius at his ability to affect his son so. His hand moved from Draco’s shoulder, to curl around his throat, fingertips pressing more firmly into the soft flesh there.

Moving closer, he made sure that Draco felt how hard he was, how much his son’s willing acquiescence pleased him. His hips thrust twice against the boy, before he could stop himself. He was almost unprepared for the dark thrill that Draco’s gasp evoked in him, although it should have been almost familiar by now. He stilled, too focused on trying to regain control of his breathing to be truly irked by the knowing look on his son’s face.

Lucius brought his other hand to Draco’s waist; he amused himself by delaying the final pleasure a little longer, allowing his excitement to build steadily. He ran his fingers along the edge of Draco’s towel, eyes flicking between his son’s face, and the goose bumps that followed the path of his finger. He waited a second, and then pulled the towel away.

Catching his breath, he watched Draco’s face in the mirror, wanting, needing to see the inevitable disintegration of his son’s reserve; as much as he desired the physical satisfaction, it was the sweetness of Draco’s surrender that he truly craved. That was the most exquisite thing, the part that provided the gratification that Lucius craved.

He suspected that despite the still slow pace of Draco’s hand on his cock, the dry friction had to be almost painful by now, and yet Draco didn’t stop. Lucius smirked. It seemed that the boy could indeed learn, providing the right incentive was offered.

That thought sent another spike of arousal through him, and he slid his hand from Draco’s throat round to the nape of his neck. He applied the slightest pressure, and it took no more than that for Draco to move closer to the mirror, and to step up onto the dais on which the mirror stood. Lucius watched as Draco pulled his hand away from his cock, placed both hands on the chair that stood in front of the mirror, and bent slowly forward, his eyes not leaving Lucius’ gaze in the mirror.

Lucius took the opportunity to run his hand down Draco’s spine, down to his buttocks, where Lucius lingered briefly. He looked away from his son’s eyes, and looked at the body spread out for his delectation. This body that belonged to him, that was his to touch, his to fuck, his to own; laid out for his pleasure.

He summoned the lubricant, unwilling and unable to wait any longer. He raised his eyes again to meet Draco’s in the mirror, knowing he was smirking openly now. Without warning, he breached Draco’s body with two fingers, knowing not only that Draco could take it, but also that he would welcome the burn. Lucius has taught him well, as after.

Draco’s back arched, and his eyes almost closed.

A few strokes were all that Lucius allowed. His need was too great now, and he wanted to feel the tightness of Draco’s body as much as possible. He slid his hands over Draco’s hips, lined himself up and thrust. The pleasure of taking Draco like that almost undid Lucius, and he paused, to both give himself time to gather his now ragged composure, and to enjoy the sensation, the moment of his son’s ultimate surrender.

He couldn’t stand it for long though. The need to thrust was like an itch he couldn’t reach. The longer he denied it, the more he was aware of it. A sudden withdrawal, to catch Draco unawares, and a hard thrust in. Draco’s back arched, and his eyes flew open, meeting Lucius’ in the mirror, pupils wildly dilated, cheeks splashed with colour. Lucius smirked again, and saw the realisation of what would come next bloom on Draco’s face.

Lucius pulled out and slammed back in, hard, fucking Draco in earnest now.

Draco held his eyes, but, inevitably, his head dropped. Lucius revelled in the tight heat surrounding his cock, in the compliance of the body beneath him, in knowledge that it was his son, his own flesh and blood, the life he had created that he was fucking. It made Lucius’ cock throb and his pulse race.

The thrill of knowing how sordid, how perverted, how *depraved* this was simply added to the pleasure. The recognition that the tight arse he was fucking was that of his son almost took him over the edge then and there.

He felt Draco’s body begin to tense, and knew that it wouldn’t take much for either of them to find that ultimate release. He slid his hand down from Draco’s hip, and grasped his son’s cock. It was only a couple of strokes and a tight squeeze to bring Draco panting to climax. Lucius gave in, and allowed the same bliss to wash through him mere seconds later.

Draco was clearly drained, his whole body limp. He looked ravaged and well fucked, and Lucius felt smug that it was entirely due to him. When Draco finally raised his head, he wore a smirk remarkably similar to Lucius’.

Lucius pulled out, and stepped away, wanting to fully appreciate the result of his efforts. Neverthless, he couldn’t forget that he had plans.

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

He was annoyed that his voice was still a little breathless, but the aftermath of pleasure was still flowing through his body, so he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about the smug smirk still on his son’s face.

He collected his clothes, slipped on his robe, and slipped out of the room as quietly as he’d entered it.