Dreaming Behind Bright Green Eyes

It started, as it usually did, as a very ordinary day. It could have been any day, really; any day during the summer, or over winter break, when Albus went to visit his best friend, and stayed the day—or night—at his house.

Although to be fair, it wasn’t so much a house as it was a palatial estate. Albus’s best friend was, after all, Scorpius Malfoy, and that meant that his “house” was more generally referred to as “Malfoy Manor.” And any place that deserves the epithet of “manor” without irony or condescension can’t really be accurately described as a house without an immeasurable measure of understatement.

At any rate, whatever you called the place, that was where he was. Albus currently lay sprawled out on a long divan against the second dayroom’s main window. It looked out over the wide, immaculately-trimmed, peacock-speckled grounds, and the warm light of afternoon streamed back in through the wide panes. Albus blinked sleepily, and realized that at some point, the book he had been reading had slipped down to rest on his reclined thighs, and he was no longer reading it.

Albus stretched out and snuggled down in the thick, velvet-green cushions. He felt very comfortable and lazy, and decided that he was way too content to contemplate moving to either shut the curtains or find a chair where the light wouldn’t be in his eyes. He turned his head and squinted slightly instead, letting his lashes shield him from the sun.

He could have turned away from the window, of course, but he was enjoying the view.

It was an impressive sight, the sprawling gardens, glimmering in the bright sunlight, but it wasn’t the wide expanse of lawns and hedges and trees that Albus was looking at. He had eyes only for the people in the garden and, as they came closer to the house with every step, the view—to Albus’s eyes—just kept getting better.

There were three of them, and they were all slim and pale, and had politely arranged themselves in descending order of height. They were, each one, carrying exquisite brooms slung over their shoulders, and the shortest of the three held a bright red Quaffle in his other arm. They shared fine-boned, aristocratic features; impossibly pale blond hair, straight and luminous; and a well known, rather infamous, last name: Malfoy.

Albus, for some reason he couldn’t remember, had not gone to play Quidditch with them.

It didn’t make much sense. He wasn’t hurt, which was pretty much the only time he could be kept off a broom; he didn’t have to worry about messing up his clothes, because he kept several spare sets at Scor’s house for just such an eventuality; the Malfoys had a half-regulation size pitch and their house was plastered with Muggle-repelling charms, so it wasn’t like Albus would have been sulking about having to fly low, like at the Burrow; and if he had gone, they could have had teams of two, and actually held a miniature match. That was what they usually did at Scor’s house, when the boys could talk Scorpius’s father and grandfather into joining them (which was most of the time, because Scorpius was very spoiled).

But, for whatever reason, Albus was here instead in the house, watching the the three Malfoys walk up the wide lawn, their pale faces flushed from the wind and damp with sweat. Albus licked his lips, and looked closer.

The eldest and tallest of the men, Lucius Malfoy, reached around the back of his head and casually pulled loose the ribbon that had been holding his long hair out of his face. It tumbled free in a loose cascade of moon-blonde locks. Lucius tossed his head and the pale hair splayed neatly across his broad shoulders, looking as smooth and shiny as if it had just been combed. Albus burned with jealousy, and dragged his fingers disappointedly through his own thick and untidy dark hair.

Scorpius said something that Albus, from his perch in the high window, obviously couldn’t hear, and the boy’s grandfather laughed, throwing his head back in an elegant arch. Everything Lucius Malfoy did was elegant and refined, but somehow he never seemed stilted; it was as if the man simply exuded good charm and manners. (Albus’s mum would have said that that was true of most sociopaths, but Albus didn’t care if Lucius’s charisma came from a lifetime of wheedling his way out of jail; that just, to Albus, gave the old man a delicious hint of danger.) Lucius grinned at his grandson, his haughty features lighting up with good cheer, although his gray eyes never lost their half-lidded arrogance, even when he smiled. It was a very nice smile, the lined planes of his aquiline face staying flat and carved even as his mouth curled.

Lucius was, Albus readily admitted, a very attractive man. He was the same age as Albus’s grandparents and, by all rights, should have looked old, but he didn’t. Lucius looked distinguished, to be sure, but not elderly; he was imposing and imperious and impossibly fit, especially for a man his age. As if to prove Albus’s point, Lucius shifted his broom aside so that he could—casually and elegantly—strip off the loose tunic-like shirt he had been wearing. (Lucius Malfoy never dressed like a Muggle. Even pick-up Quidditch in the garden with his grandson required some variation of exquisitely-tailored robes.) Lucius tucked the shirt into his belt, leaving his hands free, and slung the broom back over his shoulder. They were, Albus noted carefully, very broad shoulders. Lucius was quite pale, but not pallid; his smooth skin, with its faint sheen of sweat, gleamed in the sunlight like butterscotch taffy.

Albus wanted to lick it.

The muscles beneath the skin were excellent, too. Lucius looked like he worked out for several hours every day, despite Albus never having noticed any of the Malfoys doing any such thing. His smooth muscles bunched and rippled as he moved, making Albus’s palms sweat. He wanted to measure that pale bicep by circling his fingers around it; Albus estimated that his finger-tips might just be able to touch, but only if he strained.

Lucius stretched again, working out the kinks in his back. The man was, Albus reminded himself, sixty-six years old, and bound to require some limbering-up after a long afternoon on a broom. Sixty-six, Albus repeated to himself, but it didn’t really sink in; Lucius didn’t look sixty. Fine lines framed his thin lips, and spider-webbed beside his eyes, and carved furrows on either side of his long nose, but no one with muscles like that should ever be sixty. The man’s pecs were as thick as Albus’s wrists, and the sculpted eight-pack of his torso could have been chiseled from marble. Albus couldn’t understand how Lucius Malfoy could willingly cover up that much peak physical perfection with loose, flowing wizard robes. Albus decided that if he ever had abs like that, he would never wear shirts.

Albus wasn’t the only one, apparently, to take a dislike to such articles of clothing; his attention was suddenly pulled away from Lucius to the slightly shorter, slimmer man walking next to him. Draco Malfoy, too, shifted his broom so that he could remove his shirt. He slung the pale, silky cloth over his shoulder, and then balanced the broom atop, as if the shirt had always been meant to pad the slender length of wood rather than conceal his chest.

Albus approved of the shirt’s new purpose. Even dangling loosely down his side like that, the shirt now revealed a good deal of Draco Malfoy to Albus’s fascinated eyes.

Draco was not nearly as thickly-muscled as his father, nor his shoulders as broad, but he was gorgeous in his own right. He was still well-muscled, underneath his pale skin—even paler than his father’s; Draco was so breathtakingly white that Albus actually had to wonder if his flesh had ever seen sun before—it was just that where Lucius was wide and solid, Draco was lithe and wiry. His flat, slim muscles were sharply-cut and shapely, with just enough soft, pale flesh overtop to keep the tendons from standing out like raw ropes. Draco looked like someone had taken Lucius, and cut down the mold to remove everything that wasn’t absolutely essential; he was like a tighter, sharper reproduction of his father, as if a sculpture by Michelangelo had been re-interpreted via Alberto Giacometti.

The main difference between the two men, aside from Lucius’s longer hair and slightly stronger features—Draco’s delicate face showed traces of his mother’s side of the family, with a more pointed chin and the sharp, thin nose common to the Blacks—were the long, thin scars across Draco’s pale chest. Albus stared at them in rapt fascination, tracing the delicate lines with his green eyes. He knew that it had been his own father who had put those scars there, long ago, when his dad had been in school with Scor’s father. Harry used the story to explain the importance of responsible use of magic to his kids, and Albus had been scared of accidental curses long before he had met Mr. Malfoy at the train station after his first year at Hogwarts.

Still, even with those scars and the slighter features, one would have to be blind not to spot the keen physical resemblance between the aging father and his grown son. Not only did they look alike, but they even moved alike, walking with the same wide stride and confident posture. They walked like they owned the world, or at least whatever parts of it they considered to be worthwhile. Not only that, but they made the same expressions, from haughty smirks to icy sneers. Draco tossed his head back in the exact same arch his father had made when he laughed moments earlier, although Draco had no long hair to flip.

Draco’s hair was kept closer-cropped than Lucius’s long, trailing locks, but it was just as sleek and shockingly pale. Right now a thick curl had slipped forward to dangle in Draco’s eyes. He slicked it back absently, revealing a high forehead that was always just a little furrowed, as if Draco couldn’t ever stop himself from thinking and worrying, just a little, about something or other. His pale, pointed face was very thin and sharp beneath that high, receding hairline. The delicate, aristocratic bones of his face were sharp enough that Albus imagined that he might actually cut his lips on that high cheekbone; certainly he wouldn’t have minded the chance to try. Draco Malfoy, for all that he was more prone to frowns than to smiles, had a distantly-inviting air that pulled Albus in. He tended to find himself, quite unconsciously, standing rather closer to the politely-reserved man than he had meant to.

Where Lucius was distinguished to the point of ennui, Draco always just looked serious, even when he smiled. Albus had always thought that—were the Malfoys inclined to work for their money—Draco would have made a good professor. Certainly he was clever enough, granted; but he also possessed that stern, slightly superior sense of intellect that the best and hardest teachers all seemed to share. He had the slim build of an academic, too; the type of man who tended to forget his meals because he was too engrossed in research or reading.

Albus remembered that Draco Malfoy had flown Seeker for his house team back in school, just like Albus’s father. (Lucius, Albus recalled, had played Chaser; for Slytherin, of course, because he was a Malfoy.) Certainly Draco had the sort of build that captains looked for in their Seekers, although he was rather taller than most who flew that position professionally. Draco was a few inches shorter than his father, which meant that he was definitely above average height, although not quite so gangly as the taller members of Albus’s sprawling Weasley family. Still, Albus had to tilt his head to look up into those icy grey eyes; eyes that always sparkled wickedly beneath smoothly-arched brows and above a viciously-curling smirk.

The eyes, and the smirk, and the ice were traits shared by all three Malfoys.

Scorpius, walking next to his father, suddenly decided that he shared their dislike of shirts, as well. The shorter, slighter boy nearly dropped his broom trying to pull the soft green shirt over his head while still juggling the Quaffle. Scorpius, for all that he was generally graceful, was a teenager, and occasionally fell victim to the awkwardness of those years, despite his evident inclination towards dignified Malfoy elegance.

Draco reached out a long, pale hand and caught the slender pole before it could fall. Scorpius grinned his thanks, and yanked his clothes off quickly, mussing his hair. Scorpius took back the broom and wrapped his shirt around his wrist, holding it and the broomstick in one hand, the Quaffle balanced against his slim hip. That left his chest and arms bare, and Albus drank in the sight. Scorpius was pale and slender, skinnier than his father although his porcelain skin was not quite as bleached-white; he played enough Quidditch that his natural Malfoy pallor was somewhat offset by time spent in the sun, although he was still somewhat whiter than Lucius, and decidedly smaller, albeit possessed of the same elegant proportions as the imposing head of the family.

Scorpius balanced his broom’s long shaft on one pale, skinny shoulder, then rolled his eyes when his father reached over again to smooth his hair. Scorpius’s hair was longer than his father’s, although much shorter than Lucius’s long locks. It still fell into place neatly under Draco’s brief ministrations. The pale, flat blonde hair shone slickly in the golden light of the afternoon, framing Scorpius’s pointed face and, just slightly, fluttering into his gray eyes. The straight, white-blond locks were all uniform of length, reaching just below Scor’s sharp chin, although at the back of his neck the ends curled inward, just at the very tips.

Albus had, for quite a while now, been wanting to tangle his fingers in that hair, feel those silky curls against his skin; had wanted to wrap his fist in that pale nest, and drag Scorpius’s thin, smirking mouth in for a long, very lingering kiss.

Albus knew he was totally, helplessly bent.

Anyone who spent as much time fantasizing about his best friend—and about doing to one’s best friend the kind of things that Albus thought about doing—had to be. It hadn’t been hard for Albus to figure out the direction his interests lay in, although he hadn’t told anyone just yet. He was, for one thing, afraid that if Scorpius knew, the modest, dignified boy might no longer be so blithe about striping naked in front of Albus when they were changing clothes or showering. Albus thought it was probably bad form to take advantage of Scorpius’s ignorance to shamelessly ogle him like that, but he still had no intention of stopping. The sight was too good to give up.

Scorpius was considerably shorter than his father, although that might well change in a few years. For now, though, the boy only barely reached Draco’s chin. When Scorpius hugged his father—less frequently now then when he had been little, true, but still every time before he got onto the school train, and every time when he stepped back off of it—he tended to tuck his face in against his father’s collarbone, the older man’s chin resting on his son’s pale head, their slim arms wrapped in a tight embrace. Albus thought that pose was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, even though he felt a bit guilty every time his groin heated up over the image of a father hugging his son.

(But it wasn’t his father, and it wasn’t Albus’s fault that Scorpius’s dad was just so damn edible—as for that matter, was Scorpius.)

Scorpius was pale and skinny, but very limber, his adolescent musculature a tantalizing mixture of wiry strength and childish softness. He had slight, graceful wrists and delicate, long-fingered hands that Albus longed to touch and kiss and suck. Actually, there really wasn’t a single inch of Scorpius that Albus wouldn’t have liked to run his tongue along. Albus groaned, and leaned back against the soft green cushions of his sofa, and closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to have the guts to just tell Scorpius how he felt, and what he wanted; what he wouldn’t sacrifice in the hope that Scorpius might want the same...

But there was a reason that Albus had been sorted into Slytherin, rather than Gryffindor, and it wasn’t because of a high proportion of reckless bravery.

The door of the dayroom opened smoothly, but Albus’s over-stimulated senses were taut enough that he heard the faint click of the metal latch against the wood. He looked up and grinned at the pale, slim boy who had joined him in the room, but then the grin froze upon his face. Scorpius seemed to have come straight from the garden, pausing only to leave behind broom and Quaffle. He hadn’t taken the time to clean the glow of sweat from his skin, and he hadn’t taken the time to replace his shirt.

Albus swallowed, very hard.

“Missed you on the pitch,” Scorpius said, crossing the room to join Albus at the wide window.

“Er, yeah,” said Albus. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t gone down there and flown with the others. He was having a hard enough time remembering English with a sweaty, half-naked, flush-cheeked Scorpius Malfoy standing so close beside him.

Scorpius dropped lightly to the couch, practically sitting on Albus’s feet. Albus edged his legs sideways to make room, then froze again. Sheer panic bubbled in his throat, stole his breath; his cock was swollen. Albus cleared his throat and shifted the book he had forgotten to read so that it lay in his lap, covering the tell-tale bulge in his trousers. Apparently the sight of three half-naked Malfoys sauntering up from the gardens had been even more appealing than Albus had realized.

He had to find a way to get out of here without Scorpius noticing.

Albus cast his gaze around the room, looking for something that might grant inspiration for an excuse. Of course, he would also need a way to get out of the room without letting Scorpius catch sight of his swollen crotch...

Long, thin fingers closed around Albus’s wrist, and his eyes snapped sideways, locking in panic onto his best friend’s face.

Scorpius had one sharp eyebrow raised in a high arch, and the opposite corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. His gray eyes glittered like sleet frozen on snowdrifts. He gently pulled Albus’s arm towards him, the book in his hand moving along with it.

Albus tried to jerk away, yanking the book back into—and over—his lap.

Scorpius’s other hand came up to cup the side of Albus’s face. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I already know.”

He gently but firmly—inexorably—drew Albus’s arm, and the book, away. The book was easily wrested from Albus’s numb fingers, and then Scorpius drew Albus’s empty hand to his face. A pert, pink tongue flicked out to lap at Albus’s palm. Albus gasped.

“Scor, what—”

“Oh please,” Scorpius purred. He climbed across the long divan, his slim legs moving seductively over Albus’s trembling knees. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you watch me?” Scorpius said softly. “You think I don’t know what you want?” He leaned forward, taking Albus’s lip between his teeth and pulling, very gently. Then he released Albus, and licked his own lips, and he grinned.

It was a very Malfoy grin.

Scorpius nuzzled his face into the crook of Albus’s neck, right below his jaw, and licked the soft skin there. His voice, when he spoke, was barely audible, little more than a warm breath on Albus’s shivering flesh. “You think,” Scorpius whispered, “that I don’t want the same thing?”

Then, suddenly, Albus was kissing him. Their lips met, softly at first, tentative; Albus pressed lightly against the soft flesh of Scorpius’s mouth, gently easing it open. Before he could do anything else, Scorpius’s tongue had darted forward, swiping at the hollow of Albus’s mouth. Their tongues met and tangled together and they were soon breathing very hard, the both of them.

Scorpius’s hands were pressed on either side of Albus’s face, tilting him and turning him for better angles as the pale boy plundered his willing mouth. Albus had one arm around Scorpius’s slim, naked waist. His fingers stroked the smooth, still slightly-sweaty skin. His other hand was fisted in the back of Scorpius’s pale hair, right where it curled against his neck. Albus moaned hungrily.

The hands left Albus’s face, slipping away slowly, and slid down his neck and chest. Albus pressed himself forward into the touch, enjoying the way the thin cotton of his T-shirt rumpled under Scorpius’s fingers. Then those fingers reached the hem and tugged Albus’s shirt away from his skin, so Scorpius could reach up inside. Albus moaned again. Scorpius inched the soft fabric up, uncovering Albus inch by inch, all the while licking and nipping at his mouth and face. He only pulled away when he had to, in order to pull Albus’s shirt up over his head.

The instant the pile of fabric hit the floor, Albus slammed his mouth back into Scorpius’s. He kissed him so hard the other boy yelped with surprise, and toppled over backwards. Albus went with him, practically growling with lust and need. He pinned Scorpius to the long couch, rubbing his tense, straining body against his friend. Their bare chests were slick and smooth, Albus barely dusted with the first curls of adolescent hair, and Scorpius in his pallor even less so.

Albus’s hands were tugging at Scorpius’s trousers, fumbling with his belt. Scorpius moaned and arched up, pressing himself against Albus. Al thrust back down sharply, trapping Scorpius between the soft cushions and his own hard body. Scorpius moaned happily, his fingers tangling in Albus’s messy hair. Albus licked the line of Scorpius’s slim jaw, just under his ear, and Scor shivered, his eyes fluttering closed, hiding the beautiful gray ice that Albus loved so much.

Somehow, suddenly, their trousers were gone. Shoes and socks had vanished the same way, and Scorpius’s long fingers were tugging at the elastic band of Albus’s boxers. They were each sitting up now, their legs crossed together, both of them panting and gasping and kissing. Scorpius leaned forward and down as he pulled at Albus’s boxers and Albus lay back so that Scor could tug them down his slim hips. Scorpius’s lips trailed behind the soft cotton cloth, leaving kisses in the wake as he finally finished undressing Albus completely. Albus moaned, his cry especially loud when Scor’s kisses brushed lightly over his tall, straining cock.

Scorpius chuckled, and finally pulled Albus’s boxers away completely, tossing them aside without care. He kissed the sensitive flesh of Albus’s ankle, the one he had just tugged the cotton underpants off of, and Albus shivered. Scorpius started kissing back up the leg, and had reached Albus’s trembling thigh before Albus decided he couldn’t take any more.

He sat up, tackling Scor backwards again, and crawled after so that he was on top of his friend. Albus grasped the silky fabric of Scorpius’s underpants and gently, slowly, tugged them low. He took especial care to brush the wet, sticky tip of Scor’s cock with his knuckles when he pulled the pants over the straining bulge. Scorpius moaned, his lithe body squirming with delight.

“So fucking beautiful,” Albus mumbled, his lips pressed tight to the firm, pale flesh of Scorpius’s hot thigh. All Scorpius could manage to reply with was another moan. Albus worked the silken underpants down Scorpius’s pale legs, finally leaving the other boy totally naked as well.

Albus didn’t hesitate, but dove right in, taking Scorpius’s cock in his mouth just like he had fantasized about a hundred times before.

Scorpius shrieked, startled, and clapped a hand to his mouth to stifle any further outbursts. He had gone very pale, save for two bright pink spots in his cheeks, and his gray eyes as he peered over the top of his hand at Albus were very wide. Beneath his long fingers, he seemed to be smiling.

Albus sucked and lapped and licked, running his tongue and his fingers down the sides of Scorpius’s cock and back up to the sensitive tip. Scorpius gasped and writhed beneath him, his eyelids fluttering and his pale chest heaving. Albus squirmed up closer, rocking onto his knees so that he could get a better angle, leaning down on top of Scorpius’s cock and taking it into his mouth from above. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste and the texture and the breathless little noises Scorpius was making.

Then a much louder, harsher noise caught Albus’s attention. His eyes flashed open at the long groan, revealing that Scorpius had decided to start touching himself, as well. He was leaving his cock for Albus, though; Scorpius’s attention was focused, instead, on his own ass.

He had twisted sideways a bit so that he could reach, his arm snaking down past Albus, his hand trembling at his arse. Scorpius had slipped the tip of one of his long, thin fingers inside his own arsehole, and was thrusting it around in short, jerky little motions that made him gasp.

Albus actually stopped was he was doing a moment, forgetting that he had a needy cock in his mouth, because all he could think to do was stare. Scorpius was finger-fucking himself, and he was doing it while Albus sucked him off.

Albus moaned, and lunged downward.

What was Scorpius thinking, fucking himself like that? Didn’t he realize that now, Albus was here to do that for him?

Albus gently pulled Scorpius’s hand away; the other boy moaned in disappointment. “Shh,” said Albus. He found lube waiting on the small end table next to the sofa (had Scorpius brought it in with him, or had it been there all along, overlooked?) and handily popped the cap off one-handed. Albus squirted a generous amount into his palm and rubbed it all over his fingers, then took the dripping digits down to bestow their liquid delights.

Scorpius gasped, shivering at the unexpected, slightly cool sensation. The lube wasn’t quite body temperature, and Albus guessed that it had to feel very cold indeed when it was pushed up inside like that. But Albus didn’t stop; just coaxed more and more of the thick, viscous liquid into Scorpius’s body. His pert, pretty arse felt extraordinarily tight and hard, and Albus wanted him to be absolutely dripping before he shoved anything in down there—which he very much intended to do, thanks!

Albus inserted a second finger, working it insistently in to the tight, puckered hole in Scor’s ass. Scorpius gasped and arched up off the couch, his whole body going rigid and his breath coming in short, halting little gasps. Albus kept his fingers moving, slowly but continuously, rubbing and stretching and fucking slowly and gently as Scorpius gradually grew used to the strange new pressure, and appreciative of the delightful way it was making him writhe and gasp.

Albus groaned, his free hand stealing hesitantly to his own cock. He didn’t intend to do anything, not right now; not until he was encased within. But he couldn’t possibly sit there and look at Scorpius’s face while he was being finger-fucked into blissful oblivion and not touch himself.

He tried a third finger, wriggling it in and easing it past the first, tightly-objecting ring of muscles. Scorpius moaned and shuddered, every inch of him vibrating, his mouth opening and closing helplessly. “Albus,” he gasped, “need you, Albus...”

Albus growled again, and nipped at the pale flesh of Scorpius’s legs, and leaned forward, debating the best way to substitute fingers for cock without losing momentum. (He wanted to keep that up, because he knew he was close to cumming by now, and he didn’t want to risk orgasming before Scor did.) Scorpius had wrapped a hand around one of Albus’s wrists, the one connected to the hand up his ass, and was trying to convince him to speed up. When Albus tried to pull away, Scorpius refused to let him, his slim hand clamped like a vice, holding Albus’s fingers inside his tight arse.

“Come on, Scor,” Albus said, his voice wheedling, “wouldn’t you rather have my cock there than my fingers?”

Scorpius gasped, his eyes going wide. He stammered, but nothing intelligible came out. Still, his fingers slipped numbly from Albus’s wrist, releasing their hold on him. “I...” said Scorpius, his voice very high-pitched and shrill. He swallowed hard, and licked his lips, and couldn’t seem to find the words with which to speak.

“He certainly looks like he would prefer that, yes,” came a slow, drawling voice from the doorway.

Albus and Scorpius both spun around to face the speaker. It was Draco Malfoy. Albus jerked his fingers free, the abrupt removal making Scorpius gasp and squirm, his pointed face drawn into a grimace of dismay and discomfort.

“That is hardly the proper way to go about such activities, Mr. Potter,” Draco said smoothly. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed casually over his still-bare, snow-pale chest. He had one sharp eyebrow arched and his lips curled in amusement. “Slow and gentle, if you please,” he prompted Albus. “My dear son is still a virgin, and I must insist that you treat him accordingly.”

“S-sorry,” stammered Albus. His heart seemed to have lodged itself in his throat and his lungs felt empty and hollow. He stared at Draco in terror, wondering how the man could look so calm when he had just stumbled in on Albus finger-fucking his precious only child.

“You’re the one that startled him, father,” Scorpius pointed out with a dignified sniff. “You can hardly blame him for being surprised when you’re the one responsible.”

“True,” Draco admitted easily. He levered himself away from the door and crossed the room with several long, slow steps. Albus tried not to watch the way his hips swayed as he walked, with that elegant, purposeful Malfoy stride. It was hard, and harder the closer Draco came. Scorpius slid over on the divan, his lithe body pressed against Albus’s side, making Albus quiver. A mischievous tongue darted forward and licked Albus’s ear. He bit his lip. He didn’t dare look at Scor, not with his father staring at him like that; Albus didn’t think he could have torn his gaze away from Draco’s cold, piercing eyes even if he had tried.

Draco stopped right next to the couch, so close that Albus could have simply stretched out his fingers and brushed the man’s soft gray trousers. His crossed his arms across his pale chest, delectably muscled and scarred, and looked down at Albus from what felt like very far above him.

Albus swallowed hard.

“Well?” said Draco.

“W-well what...sir?” Albus stammered. He was so tense he was shaking, and he suddenly realized that not only was he naked in front of Scorpius’s father, his cock was fat and throbbing and dripping little beads of clear pre-cum right on the velvet divan. Albus went pale.

“Well,” said Draco, “are you going to demonstrate to me that you are capable of sufficient gentleness to be permitted to continue seducing my son, or are you just going to sit there and let the poor boy suffer unattended?”

Albus gaped. His mouth opened and shut several times before any sound came out. “Yes, sir!” he said quickly, “I mean no, sir—I mean—ah, hell.” Albus turned around and caught Scorpius’s pointed face in his hands, and drew the boy in for a long, breathless kiss.

Scorpius melted forward into Albus’s mouth, his arms coming up to wrap around Albus’s neck. Albus let his hands slide down to tangle lightly in Scorpius’s silky hair, and then lower, to caress his shoulders and back. Scorpius moaned into the kiss, pressing himself into Albus’s touch. One of his legs came forward to wrap loosely around Albus’s side, the heel of his graceful foot pressed lightly against the curve of Albus’s arse.

Albus trailed his hands lower, exploring every inch of Scorpius by touch. It was only then that he realized that one of his hands was still sticky with thick lube, and he was leaving trails of the viscous liquid all down Scor’s torso, and a shiny glob in his pale hair.

Scorpius didn’t seem to mind, moving hungrily into Albus’s embrace, gasping whenever Albus’s fingers reached some area more delicate than the rest of his pale, sensitive body. “Yes,” someone said distantly, someone who was not Scorpius but sounded a lot like him, “that’s very well done, just like that.” Albus had a confused impression of Draco Malfoy nodding approvingly, but Scorpius chose that moment to wrest himself free of Albus’s arms and throw himself down face-first into Albus’s lap.

“Ahh!” Albus cried, arching half-off the divan in pleasure as the warm, wet hollow of Scorpius’s mouth closed around the tip of Albus’s stiff cock. The cock—and the boy it was attached to—jerked in surprise and delight. Scorpius’s lips curled into a smile that Albus could feel but not see, and Albus moaned. A hot, firm tongue flicked out and licked its way down and up the underside of Albus’s cock, then teased lightly at his balls.

Albus fell backwards limply, and only then became aware of a third hand on his body, in addition to the pair that Scorpius held pressed against his trembling thighs.

Draco Malfoy—it had to be him, because there was no one else in the room—Draco Malfoy had placed one strong, thin hand at the base of Albus’s skull, and was gently stroking his fingers through the thick, messy hair. Now the hand slipped lower, supporting Albus as he drooped, holding the boy in a half-upright sitting position on the divan while Draco’s son sucked happily on Albus’s cock.

Albus’s whole body shuddered. “More,” he rasped.

As Scorpius redoubled his efforts, humming happily, Albus felt a warm, strong body slip onto the couch behind him. The hand supporting him dropped away, leaving Albus resting against Draco’s bare chest. Albus shivered and pressed back against the firm muscles, feeling the delightful slickness of Draco’s sweat against his skin, as well as the sharp, indented lines of the scars that criss-crossed the pale man. Albus twisted his head so that he could nuzzle the side of his face against the slight, almost invisible dusting of pale chest hair that stretched between Draco’s pert nipples.

Strong fingers caught Albus’s face, and raised his mouth so that Draco could lean down for a long, probing kiss. Albus arched up into the warm embrace, trying to meld their lips into one while Draco’s long, insistent tongue practically fucked his mouth, exploring Albus from teeth to tonsils.

Albus shuddered, going limp in the man’s wiry arms. Hands moved across his chest, making Albus’s eyes roll back and his breath come in heady gasps. Scorpius hollowed his cheeks around Albus’s cock, pulling hard, and a slim finger teased at the very rim of Albus’s arsehole.

Albus arched forward, raising himself up on his knees, abruptly shoving deep into Scorpius’s mouth. Scorpius gave a muffled cry of surprise as Albus suddenly spurted, hot and thick, into his mouth, but he did not move away. Instead he moved closer, his lips sliding down deep on Albus’s long shaft, and he sucked up every drop of the hot, wet cum that he could manage, swallowing repeatedly.

A goodly portion of the thick liquid spilled down his pointed chin anyway, and dripped onto the velvet of the divan as well as onto the porcelain of his chest as he sat up, breathing hard. Albus collapsed, limp and trembling, against Draco’s chest. A strong arm draped itself loosely around Albus’s waist, holding the boy comfortingly in place as he panted and shook in his post-orgasm haze.

“You look great like that,” Albus told his best friend hoarsely.

Scorpius was grinning wickedly as he raised a hand to wipe the cum from his face. “Thank you,” he said smugly. His wrist was suddenly caught, though, and his hand moved gently away before he could clean himself up. Scorpius’s father leaned in, shifting Albus easily out of the way without letting him fall, and then he licked the cum from his son’s face. Scorpius sat still, his eyes closed and his nose wrinkled just a little, like a child annoyed at being tidied up by his parents in front of his friends.

Draco sat back, licking his lips. “Hmm,” he said, “not bad.”

Albus’s heart lurched back into motion and he remembered how to blink. His hands trembled and his eyes felt like they had turned as wide as saucers. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Draco’s face as the man mulled over the taste of Albus’s cum. Albus knew that he would never, ever forget the sight of Draco Malfoy licking his own son clean of Albus’s seed.

He groaned; his limp, tired cock stirring hungrily. “Please,” Albus murmured, squirming backwards against Draco. Then he froze, feeling something very large and hard through the fabric of the elder Malfoy’s trousers. Albus scooted backwards further, pressing himself against the cloth-covered cock, a shy grin stealing across his face.

“Please what, Mr. Potter?” Draco said, the smirk that had to be on his pale face audible in his voice. His breath tickled Albus’s ear, and the rumble of his words in his chest made Albus shiver. Scorpius crawled up to lay his pale head on Albus’s thigh, his lips inches away from the other boy’s steadily-stiffening cock. He stroked feather-light designs on Albus’s other leg with his fingertips, making Albus squirm with delight. He was breathing hard, too hard to answer Mr. Malfoy’s question.

Draco leaned in closer, his lips actually brushing against the rim of Albus’s ear as he spoke: “Please allow you to fuck my son?” he said. “Is that what you’re asking?”

“Oh...” said Albus breathlessly, “oh yes!”

Draco chuckled, the low rumble echoed by Scorpius’s own lilting laugh. “Very well,” Draco said softly, “I think you have proved that you can be trusted with him.”

“Oh yes,” said Scorpius, “yes, please. Thank you, father, yes!”

Scorpius moved up Albus’s body until he was sitting in his lap, his pert arse suspended just above Albus’s swollen cock. Albus couldn’t believe that he was hard again already, but then again, with two gorgeous Malfoys pressed against him, touching him and talking like that, how could he not be?

Scorpius wrapped his arms around Albus’s neck and kissed him. Draco sucked on Albus’s earlobe, then ran his hands down the boy’s thin sides, his fingers tickling against Albus’s sensitive ribs. Albus groaned, and brought his own hands up to wrap around Scorpius, holding him for a long kiss before he released the other boy’s face and reached down lower instead.

This time Albus’s finger slipped easily inside, although there was very little lube left on it. Scorpius moaned, the interior of his arse still wet from Albus’s earlier ministrations, and he squirmed around, pressing himself down on Albus’s hand. Albus immediately worked a second finger inside, although this one did not enter quite as effortlessly; he had to push, just a bit, to get it past the tight rim of Scor’s arse.

Scorpius moaned and started thrusting up and down on Albus’s fingers, his head thrown back and his eyes half-lidded. Albus caught his panting, invitingly-open mouth in a warm kiss, plundering Scorpius with his tongue the same way he was with his fingers. Scorpius groaned, the sound muffled by Albus’s lips.

Strong, slim hands wrapped around Albus’s cock, moving very slowly up and down the hard shaft. They dripped with liquid, liberally coating Albus’s straining organ with more of the lube from the side table.

Albus gasped and flung his head back, tearing himself away from the kiss with Scorpius. The back of his head rammed into Draco’s collarbone, but neither he nor Albus seemed to notice the sharp flare of impact. Draco kept sliding his hands expertly across Albus’s cock, the steady motion hardly pausing even when he teased at the wet, dripping tip, gliding thin fingers in and out of the sensitive slit.

Albus shoved a third finger into Scorpius’s ass, hard enough this time to make the boy gasp loudly. Albus hesitated for a moment, but no reprimand came from the man behind him, and Draco’s hands did not cease in their tortuously-slow ministrations to Albus’s cock, so Albus breathed in relief and kept going, thrusting with his fingers, twisting them around and scissoring them gently, making Scorpius whimper with strained delight.

“Al...Al...please,” Scorpius panted, “please...”

“Okay,” said Albus, feeling giddy with pleasure.

He drew his fingers out, gently this time, and Scorpius moaned unhappily. Albus silenced his friend’s displeasure with a kiss, then felt one of Draco’s hands slide off of his cock to brace his hip. The other slowed its steady tug, but did not still entirely, settling near the base of Albus’s cock.

“Scorpius,” Draco instructed crisply, “lower yourself towards Albus. Albus, take Scorpius’s hips and help guide him down. I will assist with finding the proper angel for penetration, if you will permit it.”

Albus nodded immediately, his throat gone dry. He placed trembling hands on the sides of Scor’s arse and gently lowered the boy towards his cock. Scorpius was shaking slightly in his hands, but the tight grip of his arms around Albus’s neck did not slacken.

Albus felt the tip of his cock brush against the cleft in Scorpius’s ass, and he gasped. Then Draco’s hand moved on Albus’s slick cock, tilting it forward towards the dripping, puckered hole in the middle of his son’s tight ass. “Lower,” Draco breathed, and the boys inched Scorpius down closer. Albus’s cock slid along the crease of Scor’s arse, making both boys shiver and pant. Then Draco angled Albus’s cock further, and the hot, hungry tip met the tight circle of muscles that marked Scorpius’s arsehole.

Scorpius shuddered and Albus thrust up, bracing himself against the strong hand of Draco Malfoy beneath his hip. Scorpius yelped, his body jerking sharply, as Albus’s cock slipped into the tense ring. It felt, for a moment, like Albus was pressing against an impenetrable surface, hard and slick and shuddering, but then with a wet pop Albus’s cock moved upwards, and Scorpius cried out in shock.

Albus’s moan seemed to last forever. Sliding up that hot, wet, impossibly tight tunnel felt like someone was strangling him cock-first, but it was the greatest feeling Albus had ever experienced. He pushed up further, making Scorpius writhe above him.

Scor’s arms had gone very tight around Albus’s neck, the smooth nails of his fingers digging in hard to Albus’s back. He was breathing in short, shallow gasps, and every muscle of his pale, slim body seemed to be trembling. He had his eyes scrunched shut and his mouth half-open, sucking desperately at the air he couldn’t seem to draw into his lungs.

“Shh,” said Draco, the hand that was now free of Albus’s cock coming up to gently caress his son’s pale cheek. He left behind a glistening shadow of lubrication, making Scorpius’s face shine, but the boy’s strained grimace faded at his father’s touch. “It will be all right, my dear,” Draco said softly, soothingly stroking his fingers through Scorpius’s ash-blonde hair. “Give it a moment, and the strain will pass, and all you will know is delight.”

Scorpius nodded, his face slowly relaxing, followed by the rest of him. His belief in his father and his father’s words were all he needed to calm down, despite the extraordinarily thick cock buried deep in his tight, tender young ass.

Albus breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and tentatively thrust upward, making Scorpius whimper. The pale, slim boy bounced up and then down again, dropping himself a half-inch lower on Albus’s cock. He bit his lip, but although his eyes were still closed with strain, he was smiling. He bounced again, and this time Albus thrust with him, burying himself deeply in the warm, taut pit of Scorpius Malfoy’s ass.

Scorpius squealed, his whole body shuddering; his skinny ass clenching tightly around Albus, making him moan. Albus thrust again, and this time Scorpius positively keened, his voice shrill and inarticulate. Then there were hands on Albus’s sides, helping him press upwards, lifting him off the divan and into Scorpius. Albus leaned against Draco’s hands, letting the older man aide him in his vertical thrusts, drawing strength from the steady grasp against his hips.

The hands moved off of Albus, and he fell back a bit, before he managed to brace himself on his own, his knees firm on the velvet couch and his shoulder blades flush against Draco’s pale chest.

Now Draco grasped his son’s slim hips, and pulled downwards, drawing Scorpius even lower onto Albus’s cock. Albus thrust upwards in time with Draco’s movements, and Scorpius’s head fell back, exposing a beautifully-arched throat. His pale hair fluttered around his face like an angelic cloud, and his mouth hung open as he gasped, his pink tongue just brushing his thin, slightly-swollen lips. He cried out as he came, his musical voice raw and hoarse; the hot, almost translucent liquid splattering across Albus’s chest and abs.

Scorpius’s ass clenched tight in his orgasm, constricting so hard around Albus’s thick cock that it hurt. It was, however, the most delightful pain Albus had ever felt, and it was more than enough to send him over the edge, as well. He thrust deep inside Scorpius with each explosive spasm, burying his seed in the farthest reaches of Scor’s tight ass. Scorpius yelped and bucked his way through their mutual orgasm, both boys shuddering and shaking so hard that they would have fallen off the divan had it not been for Draco Malfoy’s strong arms holding them upright.

The boys collapsed limply, Albus falling back against Draco’s scarred chest, and Scorpius wilting on top of him. Albus’s soft, limp cock was still inside Scorpius, and he could feel the delicious ooze of cum leaking around it from the tight, trembling hole.

Scorpius nuzzled sleepily against Albus’s shoulder, his gray eyes fluttering closed as his breathing gradually slowed back to normal. Albus could feel the other boy’s heartbeat doing the same thing, thudding against his cum-slicked chest. Albus wrapped tired arms around the skinny boy on top of him, and leaned back contentedly into the warm embrace of Scorpius’s father, who had his own arms loosely linked around both boys, holding them securely.

It was several slow, sleepy minutes before Albus became aware of something stiff and damp beneath him. It was, quite clearly, Draco’s cock, and his trousers were sticky with his own pre-cum as well as with sloshed-over ejaculate from his son’s lovemaking withAlbus.

Albus shifted his hips, grinding his ass down against the stiff, cloth-shrouded cock. Draco groaned and moved as well, just a little, pressing his cock forward instinctively although he held himself mostly in place, perhaps worried about sending the boys tumbling off the velvet divan if he gave in to the urge to thrust.

“Do you want to fuck me, sir?” Albus asked, feeling daring in the afterglow.

“Why yes, Albus,” came the answering drawl, “I believe I do. Would you like that, my boy?”

Albus nodded violently. “Oh yes!” he gasped. He worked himself back a little further against Draco, relishing in the damp friction of the slim man’s tented trousers against his bare arse.

“Mm,” Scorpius murmured tiredly against Albus’s neck, “what a lovely idea.” He leaned up to capture Albus’s lips for a languid kiss, but Albus pulled free of the embrace after only a moment, too excited to enjoy the patient snog.

He pushed Scorpius back away from him, and the boy’s pale eyes went wide with hurt and betrayal, but Albus only made him slide back along the long couch far enough so that he could lay down in between the two Malfoys. Albus pressed his hands against Scorpius’s slim thighs and looked up, grinning wickedly. His chin rested on the velvet sofa, his lips inches from Scorpius’s sticky, slowly-swelling cock, and his green eyes glittered with lewd promise. Scorpius gasped, and shivered, and his pointed face curled into a grin.

“Get your trousers off, father,” Scorpius breathed, “hurry.”

Draco chuckled and stood up to do as he was ordered.

Albus had his arse raised up into the air, braced on his knees, and he wiggled it now invitingly. A cool hand slapped gently against Albus’s hot skin, and long fingers rubbed and groped their way around the round orb of Albus’s ass. They flicked teasingly at Albus’s hole, making him groan. The couch shifted slightly as Draco returned his weight to it, kneeling down gracefully behind Albus. Albus tried to raise his ass higher, impatient.

Then Draco brought his other hand up to cup Albus’s cheeks as well, and this one was wet and dripping with the thick lubrication. Albus moaned as wet, hard fingers slipped inside, gently stretching the delicate rim of his ass wide enough to accommodate the slender digits. When the moan died away, Albus stuck out his tongue, lapping briefly at the hard cock in front of him. Scorpius gasped, his lithe body arching a few inches off the velvet couch. Albus grinned.

Then Albus gasped as a third finger joined the first two, drawing him wide and tight. He groaned, shuddering a little at the unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling of fullness in his virgin ass. Draco worked his fingers in and out slowly, tenderly, easing Albus into the sensation and the stretch. Strong knuckles scraped the tense, rimmed sides of his inner walls, and Albus shivered. The very tip of one long finger brushed lightly against something deep inside Albus that sent sparks shooting across his vision, but before he could do more than suck down a sharp gasp of air in preparation for a moan of delight, the fingers were gone.

Albus whimpered in dismay and waggled his ass, inching backwards, trying to recapture the sensation of those fingers inside his body. Instead strong hands gripped the cheeks of his arse, holding him in place and spreading him wide. Albus felt very exposed, and naked, and vulnerable, and he quivered happily, picturing Scorpius’s father kneeling behind him, his pale cock stiff and dripping.

Albus would have liked to turn around to see that sight, but with his face pressed into the velvet fabric in front of Scorpius’s cock and his arse elevated near Draco’s waist, he could barely move. Albus looked back as best he could, but all he could see were his own freckled arms, the thin muscles trembling. “Please,” Albus gasped, “please do it now, please...”

“Yes father,” Scorpius chimed in breathlessly, “oh fuck him, please, let me watch it...”

“Anything you want, my boy,” Draco replied smoothly. Both boys groaned in happy, throbbing anticipation, then Albus’s groan shot upwards into a high-pitched cry. The hot, wide tip of Draco’s cock pressed against Albus’s dripping, hungry arsehole, and Albus couldn’t help but shove backwards against it. The first shock of penetration jolted through Albus like a knife, making him gasp and shudder. Draco’s thick, hot cock pressed slowly, inexorably, through the resisting rings of Albus’s body, driving with excruciating slowness into his tight, trembling depths.

Albus writhed, gasping, and pushed himself backwards against the painfully-tight, delightful invasion. Gentle fingers stroked his hair, and he was dimly aware of Scorpius murmuring soothing words. Albus flicked his tongue out again, catching the tip of Scor’s cock, and the other boy’s voice cut off in a sharp gasp. Albus grinned, and started licking in earnest, inching forward so that he could take Scorpius into his mouth.

Draco, delightfully, followed, his cock thrusting in deep to Albus’s arse. Albus moaned, the sound muffled against Scorpius’s throbbing cock, and making the other boy tremble. Draco pumped slowly, firmly, into Albus’s ass, stretching and stabbing and soothing. Albus shook violently, torn between shoving his ass back against that wide, thick shaft, and leaning forward to suck more of Scorpius into his cheeks.

Being pinned between the two Malfoys like this was exquisite. Scorpius’s long fingers tangled in Albus’s thick hair, tugging just a little at his scalp, urging him on to more. Albus obliged greedily, licking and sucking and blowing and teasing with his tongue and his lips, devouring Scorpius’s throbbing cock like it was the most delicious gourmet delicacy he had ever tasted. Albus’s fingers worked their way up the underside of Scor’s ass, slipping within the tight ring of his hole, making Scorpius keen with surprised delight. Scorpius thrust forward, driving himself into Albus’s mouth; Albus lapped up everything he was given, hardly gagging even when Scor’s cock brushed the back of his throat. From behind, Draco shoved deep into Albus’s passage, his strong fingers tight on the boy’s hips, holding Albus up high on his knees so that Draco could plunder his virgin ass with ease. Albus moaned, luxuriating in the overwhelming feeling of being fucked from both ends at once.

His straining walls clenched around Draco, drawing in tight and painful around the thick cock as Albus’s body shuddered and lurched, shaking violently with his ejaculation. Draco cried out, the sudden pressure apparently enough to send him over the edge, and his orgasm exploded inside Albus’s tight ass. Draco thrust forward with each jerk of his cock, his carefully controlled motion suddenly hard and violent, filling Albus with even more intense waves of delight. He moaned around Scorpius’s cock, his teeth accidentally brushing the sensitive tip as his senses exploded; Scorpius cried out, and his own cock burst, spilling its hot seed into Albus’s mouth. Albus tried to swallow, even as throes of passion roiled through his body, but most of the thick cum escaped down his chin.

They all collapsed as one, Albus flopping limp across the divan. Scorpius curled above him, barely managing to remain half-sitting, braced on trembling arms. His pale hair hung down low, obscuring his pointed face, but Albus could hear the other boy panting heavily in the aftermath of his own orgasm. Draco sagged down off his knees, drooping onto the couch, Albus’s ass still warm around his limp cock. Albus moaned and shifted, feeling the delightful post-shag strain of his arse muscles; feeling the sticky warmth of cum leaking out of his ass and down his thighs, and Draco’s.

Then Scorpius gave a little sigh and let himself drop, tiredly, to lay atop Albus. He curled up into a small ball, his knees just in front of Albus’s nose and his white head resting comfortably just beneath Al’s shoulder blades. They lay like that for several minutes, just breathing, enjoying the exhausted glow of post-coupling, until Draco finally groaned and pulled himself free of Albus’s still-trembling ass.

“That was brilliant, sir,” Albus said happily, wriggling his ass a little so that he could feel the delightful twinge of over-strained muscles deep inside. “Thank you.”

Draco laughed and patted Albus’s arm. “Any time, my dear boy,” he replied politely. Albus snuggled down further in the velvet cushions, enjoying the sticky warmth of Scorpius’s sweat and cum-slicked skin atop his own. Scorpius murmured something and wrapped one limp arm around Albus’s side, holding them close together. Draco reached over and began stroking Albus’s hair, and then his son’s, alternating the soft, gentle caresses between the two boys.

Albus mumbled happily and his eyes sagged closed, the muffling feeling of sleep starting to steal across his senses.

He was jolted out of that by a sharp snort, and the sound of someone shutting a door.

Albus looked up to see Lucius Malfoy, his expression as inscrutable as ever despite the questioning arch of one sharp eyebrow, standing in the doorway. The heavy wood panel was closed behind him, and he was in the middle of flicking a latch that would lock it that way.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Lucius said sharply.

All three of them struggled to sit upright, Draco hunching his shoulders with the same guilty posture as the two boys; in Lucius Malfoy’s imposing presence, even Scorpius’s father defaulted to the role of easily-chastised child, caught out of bed with illicit sweets in his hands.

“Nothing, father,” Draco said, his voice low.

“Nothing?” Lucius repeated, that stern eyebrow arching up further. “It hardly looks like nothing, boy, so please have the courtesy of not wasting our time with such blatant lies.” He shook his head, frowning at them all. “This is absolutely deplorable, Draco,” Lucius said. “I might have expected such immodest behavior out of the boys—they are only children, after all—but you?” His scowl deepened. “You disappoint me, Draco. You should know better.”

Draco Malfoy dropped his head, as if wincing from a blow. “I’m sorry, father,” he said quietly.

Lucius shook his head again, tsk-ing quietly with his teeth. “When one is engaging in intimate activities of this nature,” Lucius said sternly, “one always locks the door.”

All three heads—two blond, and one black—slowly raised to face the tall, frowning man staring down at them. “Imagine,” he continued sharply, “cavorting like that where anyone might see, and with a Potter no less. I am ashamed, my boy. I had thought I taught you better manners than that.”

Albus glanced sideways and thought he saw the barest trace of a smirk on Draco’s pale, contrite face. “I am sorry, father,” he said again, his tone absolutely neutral.

Lucius sighed, and walked over to where the three sticky, cum-splattered figures sat next to one another on the now damp and spotted velvet divan. He raked cold gray eyes across them all, lingering disapprovingly on the cum on Scorpius’s thighs, and Albus’s face. Albus quickly raised an arm to clean himself off, but his hand was dashed away.

Long, firm fingers wrapped themselves around Albus’s chin, tilting his head up. Lucius’s eyebrow was still raised. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?” Lucius asked him sternly.

“Er,” said Albus uncertainly, “I’m sorry, sir?”

Lucius shook his head. “Has my grandson given you permission to clean yourself?” he asked.

“Er,” Albus said again, “um...no?”

“Then,” Lucius said coldly, “what do you think you are doing? One asks first, Mr. Potter, when one is a guest in this house.”

Albus nodded hesitantly, although his head barely moved, trapped as he was in Lucius’s strong grip. “Sorry,” he said again. He turned to look at Scorpius—turned just with his eyes, because his face was still held in place—and smiled a bit sheepishly. “Do you mind if I clean up?” Albus asked.

“Hmm,” said Scorpius, raising a thoughtful finger to his smirking lips. “I don’t know,” he said slyly, “you do look great like that.” Albus grinned and Draco chuckled. “No,” said Scorpius, shaking his head, “I don’t think I give you permission to clean yourself.” His pointed face curled in a very wicked smirk. “I think you will have to ask Grandfather to do it for you.”

Albus forgot how to breathe. He goggled sideways at his friend, then flicked his eyes around the other way to look at Draco. Both Malfoys were smirking, and they both looked incredibly smug. Albus swallowed hard and forced himself to look at the man in front of him. Lucius was looking down at him speculatively, his expression unfathomable.

“Mr. Potter,” Draco said slyly, “I believe father is waiting for you to ask him for a favor.”

Albus’s throat felt very dry. He could feel himself start to tremble, the firm grip of fingers pressing in hard against the sides of his face. Albus swallowed again, his heart thudding irregularly, and he forced himself to speak: “Um, M-mr. Malfoy, sir, um...would you...would you m-mind, um...helping me to, uh, to c-clean up?”

For a long moment, Lucius simply stared. Then, his blank expression unchanged, he blinked once in apparent decision. “Very well,” he said smoothly, and suddenly he leaned in. The strong fingers on Albus’s cheeks tilted his face up higher, and Albus raised himself halfway to his knees and Lucius pulled him in. Albus gasped when a long, firm tongue lapped at his pale, sticky cheeks, gliding across his lips and chin, leaving damp saliva behind in exchange for the thick, coagulating semen.

Albus trembled, and then he moaned. His lips were captured for a long, heady kiss, and then Albus was finally released to sink down, his head spinning, back to the sofa. Draco’s strong arm snaked up Albus’s back, holding him upright; Scorpius curled warmly against his other side, and rested his head on Albus’s trembling shoulder. Lucius studied him speculatively. “Not bad,” he finally decreed, “for a novice and a half-blood. I assume his other skills are roughly on par?”

Draco nodded agreement, followed quickly by Scorpius. “Yes, father,” Draco said smoothly. “Would you like to determine for yourself? I am quite certain that Albus would not mind.”

Albus, hoping that they were talking about what he thought they were talking about, nodded violently. “I don’t mind,” he said hurriedly. “I definitely don’t mind.” His sore arse throbbed in eager anticipation.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, and Albus gulped, wondering if he should have waited to chime in until he was spoken to. Lucius Malfoy could, somehow, make the most mundane of facial gestures look more intimidating than most people’s drawn wands.

“Then I suppose I had best,” Lucius said calmly. “Boy,” he instructed Albus, “de-robe me.”

Albus gaped, then sprang up off the divan. He barely noticed the way his ass burned as he moved. To be perfectly accurate, Lucius was not wearing robes, but Albus wasn’t about to quibble over semantics, not now. The man had, like his son and grandson, not taken the time yet to re-dress himself from his post-Quidditch stripping, and was wearing only his black trousers and tall boots, which Albus hurried to divest him of. His hands trembled and he fumbled awkwardly at the clasp of Lucius’s belt, and at the laces on his boots, but he managed to remove everything without earning himself a reprimand.

Finally Albus had Lucius down to his thin, silken underpants. There was a definite bulge inside them, and Albus looked up at the old man nervously. Lucius raised an eyebrow and lifted his stern chin in a nod that gave silent permission, so Albus carefully reached forward and slipped the delicate fabric away from Mr. Malfoy’s pale skin.

Throughout it all, Draco and Scorpius had stayed silent, although Scorpius did reach out once to caress Albus’s shaking back in reassurance. He knew, after all, how intimidating his grandfather could be to people outside the family, even people like Albus who was accustomed to spending several hours of his holiday breaks in the man’s presence.

Albus gasped at the sight of the cock revealed in front of him. It was very long and thick, much thicker than Scorpius’s, and—Albus glanced over his shoulder to make sure—yes, even thicker than Draco’s. The comparison was made easy by the fact that all three Malfoys were standing erect again, although not yet to the point of dripping with strain. Draco and Scorpius, sitting side by side, were languidly drawing their own hands up and down their cocks, preparing themselves for whatever was going to come next. Scorpius had rested his head against his father’s chest, and he looked tired but eager. Albus wondered how many more times they could possibly manage to climax in one day, but then realized that he, too, was already hard again.

He grinned, and looked up at the tall, well-muscled, long-haired, totally naked man standing in front of him. “What now, sir?” Albus asked politely.

“I shall test your mouth, I believe, boy,” Lucius decided.

Albus blinked, and then his grin widened. “Okay,” he said eagerly, and dropped to his knees. Albus leaned forward, his lips already parting eagerly, and then he paused. He glanced up, Lucius’s pale form blurred now behind Albus’s lashes. “Do I have permission, sir?” Albus asked meekly, quivering with anticipation.

For a long moment Lucius said nothing; simply regarded Albus with cold, objective appraisal. Then the long-haired, dignified head nodded, and Lucius said calmly, “granted.”

Albus didn’t wait to hear anything else, lunging forward and promptly taking Lucius’s thick cock in his mouth. He slipped himself down as low as he could go without gagging, then pulled back, and distributed short, quick licks instead, working his way up one side and down the other. After several minutes he finally earned a quiet, appreciative grunt, and gleefully redoubled his efforts. Albus had his hands wrapped around the sharp hips of the man in front of him, and could feel a faint trembling in the tense muscles. He ran his fingers down Mr. Malfoy’s thighs, and then back up again, daringly exploring his impeccably-muscled torso. He received another approving grunt, so he kept his hands moving, then slowly brought them down to join his mouth, curling his fingers around the base of Lucius’s cock.

The grunt that earned was louder, and seemed a little bit less deliberate. Albus groaned around the thick shaft in his mouth, working his lips and tongue even faster despite the growing ache in his jaw at keeping his mouth so wide and so full for so long, and under such determined strain. He wouldn’t have stopped if his lips had split and bled, he was so determined to please Scorpius’s imperious grandfather. When long, hard fingers tangled tightly in the untidy nest of his hair, Albus couldn’t help but hum with delight.

He was no longer in charge; Lucius Malfoy had taken over, and held Albus’s head in place by his grasp on his hair while he fucked his dripping, drooling mouth. Albus groaned, sucking as hard as he could, his eyes watering pleasantly from the sting of his scalp. Lucius grunted again, much louder this time, and came in a hot, heavy stream in Albus’s mouth.

Albus swallowed fast, but several thick rivulets of cum still dribbled down his chin. He was finally released, and sank almost bonelessly to the soft carpet. Albus moaned happily, his whole body shaking from the fading tension. An elegant, bare foot prodded him in the side. “Get up, boy,” Lucius ordered. He was breathing hard, but had his voice under its usual tight control; the customary tone of command had Albus scrambling to his feet long before his dazed brain had actually thought about following the sharp instruction.

“Yes, sir,” Albus said immediately, grinning as he looked down at his feet, fighting the urge to wipe his face.

“Clean yourself up,” Lucius ordered sharply. “Yes, sir!” Albus said, and raised a hand to comply, by, “no,” Lucius stopped him abruptly, “not like that.”

Albus looked up curiously, and a strong hand fastened itself to the back of his neck. “You will beg my grandson’s assistance,” Lucius ordered. He marched Albus back to the divan, where Scorpius and Draco both sat, watching the show indolently. Scorpius sat up sharply when his grandfather mentioned him, and his grey eyes glittered. “Yes sir,” Scorpius said, and caught Albus’s face between his hands. Before Albus could even ask, Scorpius was already lapping at his checks and lips, licking him clean. Albus groaned happily, melting into Scor’s touch.

Draco chuckled. “Are you going soft, father?” he asked. He sounded amused, his drawling voice even more relaxed than usual.

“Certainly not,” Lucius replied primly. “I simply wish for the boy to be tidy before I bestow his punishment.”

Albus turned around sharply, his breath going tight in his throat. “Punishment?” he repeated. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. Scorpius leaned forward to lick the last glob of congealing liquid from Albus’s cheek, but both Albus and Scor’s own grandfather ignored him.

Lucius was looked at Albus with a very icy, emotionless expression on his stern, pallid face. Slowly his thin lips curled into a smile. It was a very Malfoy smile.

Albus shivered.

“Yes,” Lucius said very slowly, “your punishment. For failing to keep yourself...clean.” His cold eyes raked Albus’s now spit-shined cheeks and chin, and the smirk curled even more sharply. “There are certain standards of decorum expected in this house, Mr. Potter,” he drawled. “If you fail to meet them, then you must, yes, be punished.”

Albus nodded, his eyes very wide. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak.

“Stand up, Potter,” Lucius ordered. Albus did so, stumbling slightly as if he were Confunded or simply clumsy. Lucius fastened his hard fingers around Albus’s chin again and turned the boy back and forth, studying him closely. “Yes,” Lucius murmured, his cool voice making Albus shiver again, “you definitely do look like you need to be punished. Scorpius!” he ordered, and the boy lept up immediately.

“Yes, grandfather?”

“Go and fetch my walking stick,” Lucius commanded.

Albus felt like all of his bones had turned to water, and his knees wobbled so badly that he would have fallen had it not been for Mr. Malfoy’s tight grip on his jaw.

“Yes, grandfather,” Scorpius said again, and Albus heard the soft pad of bare feet across the thick dayroom carpet. He swallowed several times, but his throat stayed dry. He couldn’t seem to tear himself away from Lucius’s icy eyes, and it felt like every layer of his soul were being striped bare beneath that cold, probing gaze. It occurred to Albus to wonder, absently, if this could be what Legilimency felt like, and he thought about fighting, just in case it was, but then he decided that fighting was overrated, and with another full-body shiver, he gave up all thoughts of doing anything but giving in.

Scorpius handed his grandfather the long, silver-tipped cane that he sometimes carried—more as an affectation than a device of ambulatory aide, Lucius being still very fit despite his age, although he did on occasion complain of stiff joints—and then returned meekly to stand next to the divan on which his father still reclined in languid amusement.

Under Lucius’s curt instruction, Albus was placed facedown across Draco’s lap, his arse in the air. Albus’s face pressed into the velvet of the sofa cushions, and he could feel the damp, slowly drying spots that marked the evidence of his earlier exertions with the two younger Malfoys. He flicked his tongue out across the wet velvet, and grinned at the salty taste.

Draco wrapped one arm around Albus’s thighs, holding them tightly. His other hand he pressed against the small of Albus’s back, pressing the boy against his pale legs, which he spread just slightly, letting Albus feel the stiff rod of Draco’s cock so tantalizingly near his own swollen groin. Albus groaned as Scorpius straddled the long couch in front of Albus, and captured his wrists. Scorpius chuckled as he held Albus captive, his thin fingers very strong and steady against Albus’s trembling limbs.

Albus heard Lucius Malfoy make a small, thoughtful noise of speculation, and opened his eyes to peer up sideways. The tall man was fingering the silver head of his cane, and his grey eyes traveled coolly up and down Albus’s naked body. He seemed to be deciding the best way to start his intended activities, or perhaps he was merely letting the anticipation build. Albus’s eyes fixed, suddenly, on Lucius’s broad left arm, and on the faint shadow of a snake and skull that was still, just barely, visible against his pale skin.

Albus’s cock twitched, and he licked dry lips, and he stared wide-eyed at the ghost of the once-dark Mark.

The first swipe, when it came, caught Albus completely off-guard. He yelped, and bucked on Draco’s lap, but the man’s strong arms held him down tightly, as did Scorpius’s weight upon his wrists. Albus’s ass stung more from surprise than from pain, at least at first; for all that the cane was heavy, Lucius’s smacks were light and gentle, although the constant stream of abuse built to an unbearable crescendo of delightful agony.

Albus lost count somewhere around blow twenty-eight, and he just lay there half-insensate, pinned by Draco’s arms and Scorpius’s hands—the latter of whom had been forced to lean up on his wrists, using his full body-weight to hold Albus down as he bucked against each smack—while his whole body shuddered and vibrated. Each blow lanced a white-hot spike of ice up from Albus’s arsehole to his spinal column, then shivered out through every vein and nerve. His eyes had gone closed a while ago, despite his best efforts to keep them open; the sight of Lucius Malfoy, his pale hair flying wildly and his stern face utterly impassive, standing naked and hard above Albus, swinging his long cane against Albus’s burning ass, was truly beautiful, but Albus didn’t have the willpower necessary to stay alert to it. All he could feel, now, were the tight hands pressed cool and firm against his sweat-slick skin, and the sudden, sharp, burning slap of wooden cane to fragile arse.

A blow no harder than all the other measured, gentle smacks—sheer agony against his over-sensitized ass—finally pushed him over the edge that Albus had been hovering at for what felt like hours, and he screamed and bucked helplessly in Draco’s lap, his cock spurting hot and thick, while the cane slapped down again, and again, and again, coaxing the last drops of pleasure from Albus’s hollow core, until it felt like all he had left to give was marrow.

Albus collapsed, limp and trembling, his every nerve jangling, and moaned for days. The hands that had been holding him so tightly loosened, and Albus’s fingers and toes tingled with returning sensation. A soft, smug chuckle reached his ears from across a great distance, and Albus writhed tiredly. “He seems properly chastised now, father,” someone else drawled, his voice rumbling with amusement, and another voice laughed, the sound lilting and musical. Soft, feather-light lips brushed across Albus’s face, and long fingers combed soothingly through his untidy hair.

“Indeed,” Lucius Malfoy agreed coolly, and dipped the head of his cane lightly against Albus’s shoulder blade. Albus groaned, his limbs curling tiredly, and then yelped as the cold metal slid down his spine, and then across his tender, burning ass. A light, sharp tap, like teeth against his sensitive skin, was the final farewell from the long, heavy cane, and then Albus heard a dull thud as if it had been carelessly discarded, its fall cushioned by the thick carpet.

“I wonder if he has learned his lesson well enough to be of further use,” Lucius mused, and Albus nodded quickly, even though he was so tired it felt like his head was going to bob right off his neck. “Find out for me,” Lucius ordered, and a stiff cock was inserted between Albus’s swollen lips. He sucked immediately, eagerly, despite being too sated and exhausted to force his eyes open.

Thin hands grasped at his shoulders, and tugged at his hair, and after only a few minutes, Albus heard the high, shrill sound of Scorpius’s orgasm, and felt the hot spurt of cum in his mouth. He swallowed hurriedly, drinking down every drop, tasting Scorpius’s moans on his tongue. The limp cock slipped free, leaving Albus panting desperately for air, but instead another long shaft pushed inside, and Albus instinctively sucked at that one as well. Soon it was Draco’s turn to cry out and moan, while Albus lapped up his thick seed in turn. Only a little trickled out of the corner of Albus’s aching mouth, and he quickly licked that away, wondering if Lucius had seen.

Part of Albus hoped that he had, and would be forced to punish him further, but a larger part wanted desperately to know what would happen next, if Albus managed to sufficiently please the tall, imposing old man with his obedience and skill.

If Lucius saw, he apparently decided to overlook the tiny lapse, because Albus heard him say approvingly, “that will do. It appears even half-bloods can demonstrate manners, when they are sufficiently instructed.” Albus shivered, and grinned into the sticky velvet. “Thank you, sir,” he murmured. A wide hand patted his arse, making him gasp and moan, and drag his swelling cock against the soft fabric beneath him. Albus wondered if it was possible to die of bliss; if one could actually shag oneself to death. Long fingers pinched his sensitive cheek speculatively, and it occurred to Albus that he might soon find out.

“Well, boy?” Lucius Malfoy demanded, and Albus forced his eyes to open. “Are you ready to show me the extent of your other skills now?”

Albus nodded as fast as he could, swallowing hard. “Oh yes,” he breathed, “yes sir, so very ready.”

Lucius’s thin lips curled into a lascivious smile. “Splendid,” he purred.

Albus shivered.

Then he shivered harder, with a gasp, as firm hands curled possessively around his tingling arse, and drew him to the edge of the cushions. An exploratory finger prodded at the edge of his arsehole, making Albus moan. “Still wet, I see,” Lucius observed drily. “Very convenient,” he added casually, as if approving a rider on a proposed amendment. He glanced sideways at his son, one eyebrow arching in a query. “Your doing, I assume?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “Yes, father,” he answered smoothly. “I imagine the boy should require no further preparation, not at this point.”

“Very good,” said Lucius, and pulled Albus to his knees. Fingers spread his still-tender cheeks wide, and Albus bit his lips to stop a cry of sudden pain at the rough touch upon his throbbing skin. Scorpius slipped forward and tucked himself onto the divan in front of Albus, bracing Albus’s shoulders with lightly-stroking fingers, and licking languidly at Albus’s neck and jawline. He nibbled an ear, and Albus groaned happily into the pleasant sensations.

His groan once again turned into a gasp, and then a cry, as the hard tip of Lucius Malfoy’s cock pressed against his arse. Albus’s whole body shuddered, and he tensed despite Scorpius’s soothing murmurs and gentle kisses. Lucius grunted, and shoved forward, and Albus tasted blood as his teeth broke the thin skin of his swollen lips. Lucius pressed in deeper, turning Albus’s gasp into a breathless shriek as his tight ass strained and stretched around the thick, swollen cock.

“Scorpius,” Lucius said, his voice sounding slightly more tense than usual, although it did not waver, “ready yourself, and then make use of Potter’s cock. Let us see if the boy is capable of more than one thought at a time,” he sneered.

Albus moaned and thrust himself backwards against the stinging pressure of penetration, working Mr. Malfoy’s cock further into his burning ass. Scorpius moved immediately to do as his grandfather had commanded, but Draco was faster, plucking the lube from the side table before Scorpius could no more than nod. “Allow me to assist,” Draco said smoothly, and slicked his fingers with a liberal coating of the sticky liquid. Scorpius lay back and spread his legs wide, which allowed Albus a delightfully unobstructed view as Draco Malfoy worked his dripping fingers into his son’s tight arse. Scorpius moaned and writhed, bucking gently against his father’s hand, while Draco meticulously made certain that every inch of Scorpius’s tight ring and tighter tunnel were well-prepared against Albus’s entry.

All the while, Lucius had been slowly easing his way forward into Albus’s straining ass, making him whimper and shudder with excruciating delight each time the thick, throbbing cock slipped past another tight ring of tender muscle. Albus could barely breathe, and he was sucking in short, desperate gulps of air in between each thrust, his every limb shaking. Now that Scorpius was no longer sitting up to brace Albus’s shoulders, it was very difficult to remain upright, and not simply collapse against the divan and allow Lucius to fuck him straight across the narrow band of velvet and right off onto the floor.

Then, “That should do,” Draco said calmly, and helped Scorpius sit up through the haze of bliss that was filming his normally sharp grey eyes. “Hmm,” said Draco, studying the tableau of his father and Albus Potter, his own grey eyes as sharp as ever, and very calculating. “Yes,” Draco murmured after a moment, “that should work. Scorpius,” he instructed, “stand aside a moment.”

Scorpius groaned unhappily, but did as he was told, although he wavered on unsteady legs, and could not stop himself from toying absently with his own stiff cock. Draco slipped onto his knees on the couch in front of Albus, his heels tucked neatly under his arse, his arousal raised just slightly higher than his thighs. “Come here, my boy,” he instructed his son, “sit on my lap. That should hold you high enough that Albus will be able to reach without forcing your grandfather to bend over too far.”

Lucius nodded graciously at the consideration, and temporarily lifted one hand from Albus’s hips to languidly gesture his permission for the plan to proceed.

Scorpius slipped gracefully into the gap between his father and Albus, squirming slightly to arrange himself comfortably on his father’s knees. Draco wrapped one long arm around his son’s slim waist to hold him in place, then with his other he raised Scorpius’s leg, opening the boy wide. Albus, shakily, lifted his hands from the velvet cushion he had been clutching so desperately—Lucius, obligingly, paused his thrusts to allow the others to arrange themselves—and Albus transferred his grip to Draco’s firm shoulders, holding tightly. Scorpius tilted backwards against his father and reached out, wrapping gentle hands around Albus’s slick, throbbing cock. He eased Albus forward, and both boys moaned when knob-end brushed arsehole. Scorpius positioned Albus carefully, then took a deep breath.

“Go ah—” he began, but before he could finish the word, Lucius thrust sharply, carrying Albus forward on the spear of his cock, and Albus rammed deep inside the boy in front of him. Scorpius cried out, his head arching backwards in delight, his pale hair sticking to his father’s damp chest so that it splayed out around the boy’s grimacing face, giving him the momentary illusion of a bright halo.

Albus groaned and moved on Lucius’s cock, thrusting back against the wide shaft in his arse, then forward to drive his own cock deeper inside Scorpius. Both boys gasped and panted, Scorpius positively writhing in his father’s arms. If Draco had not been holding him so tightly, he likely would have thrashed his way right off of the narrow couch. Albus leaned down so he could shove in better, and he and Lucius both gasped as that shifted the angle at which the elder Malfoy’s cock was moving.

Lucius drove in hard, making Albus whimper and, in turn, making Scorpius do the same. Albus gripped Draco’s shoulders and pulled himself forward, digging into the tight, trembling arse that curved up smooth and round in front of him like a pale, bloodless sacrifice offered up to the altar of his insatiable lust. Scorpius convulsed around him, his tight walls going tighter, the ribbed tunnel clenching and widening to draw Albus deeper inside, until he was buried nearly to the hilt in Scorpius’s arse.

Scorpius was shaking, his mouth open and his eyes closed, his legs trembling so violently where they hung splayed on either side of Albus’s waist that Albus was afraid the muscles would actually tear under the strain. Lucius pried his grip from Albus’s hips—Albus gasped at the sudden freedom, and knew he would have bruises from those fingers—and transferred his hands to his grandson's legs, holding Scorpius wide and high, and letting the boy sag tiredly in his arms, no longer forced to fight against gravity and arousal at the same time.

Draco grunted, his own face tight with pleasure and strain, trembling at the friction of his son’s slick backside gliding over his own hungry cock. He leaned down to kiss Scorpius’s pale shoulder and his ash-blond hair slipped forward across his forehead, dangling like a curtain of moonlight in front of his eyes. Albus leaned forward to capture Scorpius’s panting mouth for a kiss, because he could not stretch far enough to reach his father. The boys moaned together happily, their tongues tangling.

Then Lucius slammed forward, spearing Albus fast and hard, stabbing to his very core. He could feel Lucius’s balls against the tender, bruised skin of his ass. Albus shrieked, his back arching, his every nerve singing, and his limbs going stiff and taut. The back of his skull banged against Lucius’s chin, making Lucius mutter a curse and Albus’s eyes water. He moved with the thrust, slamming back so hard that he thought he was going to split in half. He drove forward with the same strength, Lucius riding right behind him, and Scorpius screamed.

They moved again, all of them together, driving and thrusting and stabbing back and forth and in and out, deep and harsh and rough, fucking one another until Albus thought that he might burst from the pressure and the pleasure and the pain.

Scorpius came first, his slim hips bucking up under Albus, his pale head thrust back hard into his father’s scarred chest. His whole body shook with his desperate, wild spurts, the thick liquid splattering like hot rain against his chest, and against Albus’s. His shrill cry seemed to go on forever, as did his shuddering orgasm. The sudden sharp, strangling constriction of his arse around Albus’s throbbing cock made Albus cry out as well, his gasp loud enough to nearly be a shriek.

He managed one last, hard thrust, before he lost all control, burying the explosion of his seed deep in Scorpius’s core, making the other boy keen and writhe, his own cock still spraying cum everywhere. Draco gasped and shuddered, bucking suddenly beneath Scorpius and Albus; dragged over the edge by the violent friction of his son thrashing on top of him. Scorpius cried out, arching up above the sudden spray of hot liquid, shoving himself deep on Albus’s jerking, gradually softening cock.

Lucius went last of all, his deliberate thrusts finally breaking with desire at the sight of the others’ writhing, gasping pleasure. He drove into Albus’s arse, the explosion of his orgasm bursting like fireworks behind Albus’s eyes as it savaged the tight, shuddering tunnel of his ass. Albus gasped, and shuddered, and thrashed, grinding down into Scorpius and shoving back against Lucius, and felt like every single hair on his body stood up on end.

They finally shuddered to completion, all of them, and went limp together. Scorpius lolled back, panting, his skinny frame vibrating in the aftermath, and collapsed against his father. Draco sank down onto a shaking elbow, nearly going prone on the long bench, and flung a tired arm across his son’s waist to keep him from falling. His eyes had fallen closed and he breathed very slowly, deliberately, his scarred chest rising and falling shakily beneath Scorpius’s pale, recumbent head. Lucius pulled himself free of Albus with a wet, sticky pop, the heavy ribbons of his cum leaking slowly down Albus’s pale legs, now that it was longer held back by the cork of his cock. Lucius turned so that he could sink down, his strong legs shaking, and sit upon the edge of the velvety divan. His eyes were closed like his son’s, and he was likewise breathing hard, but not quite panting; Albus thought that he probably refused to allow himself to engage in such an undignified practice. Lucius raised a hand that trembled only faintly, and smoothed his long, disheveled hair back into place.

Albus curled up in the middle, leaning down atop Scorpius. His soft cock was still buried in Scorpius’s trembling arse, warmed by his cooling cum. He edged sideways until his tender, throbbing arse jutted up against Lucius’s hip, and then he allowed himself to go properly limp. His cock slipped free of its sheath as Scorpius squirmed, finding a more comfortable seat on his father’s sticky lap, and more cum pooled on the soft velvet cushions. Lucius patted Albus’s hip absently, not looking at the boy, and Albus snuggled down tighter into the loose embrace of the three Malfoys.

He let his green eyes fall closed as Scorpius traced light, abstract circles on his back. He ached everywhere, especially his arse—both inside and out—and his muscles throbbed with overexertion. Albus smiled tiredly, and felt a blissful sleep start to seep across his dazed, overstimulated senses. He planted one last, tired kiss on Scorpius’s pale shoulder, and then with a heavy, contented sigh, he drifted off.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. Albus struggled up out of the depths of his post-coital haze and forced his tired eyes open. “Scor?” he croaked, his throat very dry.

Scorpius Malfoy was standing over him, impeccably dressed in casual robes of pale green, something suitable for dinner with his grandparents without being too formal. The robes gaped open to reveal the soft gray shirt Scorpius had been wearing that morning, and the bright silver glimmer of his customary necklace with the secret poison capsule. His pale hair was combed neatly back from his face, although it looked slightly mussed, as if his mother had just been nearby (Astoria could never resist the urge to kiss her son’s head and toy with his hair). The small curls in the back brushed against his elegant neck, and Albus smiled with blissful recollection.

Then he frowned, wondering what Scorpius was doing so neatly dressed and composed. He did not look, at all, like a boy who had just been shagged until he shrieked, and then collapsed in a cum-slick puddle of nerveless limbs and leaking arse.

Albus looked down and realized that he was dressed, as well. The book he had once been reading, quite a while ago, had slipped down into his lap, thankfully covering it and the stiff tent in the crotch of his trousers. Albus looked up, hoping that the blush in his cheeks wasn’t obvious; grateful that Scorpius was no Legilimens, and could not see through Albus’s green eyes.

“It’s time for dinner, you lazy sod,” Scorpius smirked.

“Right,” said Albus, blinking hard. “Right, yeah. Okay. Thanks. I’ll be right there. I’m just, uh, just going to run upstairs and neaten up a bit, first.” He swallowed, and forced a smile.

“Okay,” said Scorpius. He shrugged and turned away, heading back calmly towards the open door. Scor paused to say over his shoulder, “but hurry up. If you take too long, I’m going to eat all the gazpacho myself.” He grinned at Albus, and then walked out. Albus’s smile was very shaky, and died the moment that Scorpius crossed through the door.

Albus sighed in relief, and in agony, and scrambled to his feet. He fled as fast as he could, the book forgotten behind him where it fell.

A few minutes later Lucius, on his own way to the table, ambled through the dayroom. He spotted something out of place on the floor, next to the velvet divan against the far window. Lucius scowled, wondering if the elves were being negligent, and walked over to pick it up. There was a book and, a little further under the sofa, a box. The book Lucius replaced absently on the nearest shelf, knowing that the vermin would make certain that it found its proper place sometime during the night, and if they didn’t it would be unpleasant for him.

The box he turned over in his hands, his eyes narrow, studying the unfamiliar thing. It was a light, flimsy little box, made of cardboard. It was decorated with gaudy colors, and unfathomably pretty people in ill-fitting robes, embracing one another and wearing vacantly-happy expressions. Lucius frowned and read the curly, elaborately-interlaced letters across the front:

A Patented Daydream Charm (Level Four)! Extended Edition! from Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, your one-stop happiness shop! Includes new “Choose Your Own Companions” Option, for Added Realism! (Side effects may include drooling and/or dazed expressions. Not for use by wizards or witches under sixteen.)

Lucius’s grey eyes sparkled. He smiled to himself and tapped a long finger against the side of the cardboard container. An amused chuckle slipped past his thin lips. He tucked the empty box into a deep pocket of his dark robes.

Then Lucius grinned very, very wickedly, and walked away.