Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/549031.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Lucius_Malfoy
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Parent/Child_Incest, One_Shot, Fluff_and_Angst, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-29 Words: 3371
****** Caught in a Whisper ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     The sound of the heavy boots came closer, and a few moments later,
     Lucius Malfoy came out on the terrace. With his back toward the patio
     doors, Draco couldn't see his father's face, but he noted, with a
     small huff, the exhaustion in his voice.
      
      
     A second later, Draco felt warm lips pressed against the side of his
     face and a soft murmur in his ear, “What are you sitting out here
     for, child?”
      
     “You're late,” was all Draco offered as an answer.
Notes
     I've decided to move all my old fic from Livejournal to here. Some of
     this stuff is very old, so yeah...
See the end of the work for more notes
                   Listen for the calling, use your pleasure
                 Perchance a wish and it just might come true
                        Beautiful is beautiful forever
                           You'll see yourself in me
                              Caught in a whisper
                              This is the meaning
It had just been raining.
Draco was sitting on the white-painted, wooden bench on the porch, legs drawn
up and arms curled around his knees.
He had been sitting there for a while now; his white hair was darkened by the
water and was cascading down his neck and shoulders, and every other second, a
rain drop slid from his hair line, down over his forehead, down between his
brows, just as pale blond as his hair, along the arch of his nose until it
reached the tip where it would pause a bit before letting go and land on the
boy's knee.
It was quiet in the garden even though it was only the early evening. Only the
frogs from the pond could be heard over the wet grounds.
If Draco's parents had been home, they would probably told him to get inside
long before the rain had begun. But they weren't home. Draco's mother was
attending a charity event for St. Mungo's, and Draco's father had been called
away on business.
Of course, Draco knew exactly what kind of business his father was doing. It
had increased from being practically non-existent to suddenly being all the
time. Lucius could be called away on business in the middle of the night and
not return before the next evening, looking exhausted and worn.
Draco never said a word about it, because he knew that this was just something
Lucius had to do, whether he liked it or not. And in the end, Draco knew,
Lucius did it for him, because they both knew that if Lucius refused to do the
Dark Lord's biddings, the Death Eaters would take it out on Draco.
But even patient as Draco was, he was beginning to lose it. It had been almost
three weeks since the summer holidays had begun, and Draco felt like he might
as well have stayed at Hogwarts, because Lucius was almost never around.
Draco drew a sigh and tightened his grip around his knees to keep himself from
shivering. The weather was warm, but he had been sitting still in rain wet
clothes for so long that he was beginning to feel really cold.
The thin white shirt he was wearing was sticking to his skin, and the matching
shorts didn't provide much heat either, and even though he tried to fight it,
he began to shiver.
Just as he decided that he had waited long enough, he heard something from
inside the manor. A small 'pop', then the sound of heavy boots on wooden
floors, followed by a mumbling and the sound of someone brushing their clothes.
Lucius had returned and had apparently just stepped through the fireplace in
the sitting room.
Normally, Draco would have sprung to his feet and stormed inside the manor to
meet his father, but tonight, he remained on the bench and merely sighed
softly.
“Draco?” it came from inside. “Draco, are you outside?”
The sound of the heavy boots came closer, and a few moments later, Lucius
Malfoy came out on the terrace. With his back toward the patio doors, Draco
couldn't see his father's face, but he noted with a small huff, the exhaustion
in his voice.
A second later, Draco felt warm lips pressed against the side of his face and a
soft murmur in his ear, “What are you sitting out here for, child?”
“You're late,” was all Draco offered as an answer.
There were silence for a moment, then he felt Lucius sitting down next to him
and a strong arm was wrapped around him and drew him in close against a warm
body.
“You are wet,” his father muttered as he caught Draco's chin between his
fingers and tipped his head back to make Draco look up at him. “You'll get a
cold.”
Draco shrugged and jerked his head away.
Lucius sighed beside him and withdrew his arm. “Tell me, my boy,” he said.
“What did I do to upset you, hm?”
“You're late,” Draco repeated sullenly as he gazed down at the pair of black
leather boots. There were dirty with ashes from the fireplace, a bit of mud and
on one of boots, something that looked dark crimson was splattered over the
tip. Draco didn't want to know what it was. “You're always late.”
“We have talked about this, Draco,” his father said with a soft sigh. “There is
nothing I can do about it. This is my duty.”
“Why d'you join up anyway?” Draco grumbled through clenched teeth. He had
forgotten to feel cold now that he was feeling so angry instead. “You don't
even believe in h--”
“Hush,” his father said and a warm hand closed around Draco's shoulder. “It
isn't safe for you to talk like that.”
“I don't care about 'safe',” Draco spat and finally turned his head to look at
his father. “I want to know about why this is so much more important to you
than me.”
“Draco!” Lucius' hand tightened around Draco's shoulder and he sounded shocked.
“How can you say that, child?Nothing is more important to me than you.”
Draco just shook his head and looked away, stubbornly clinging to his anger.
“Listen,” Lucius said softly. “When I joined up, I was young and foolish just
like so many others. I thought I could do anything I wanted without it having
any consequences. Then I had you and I realised that there was something that
was bigger than me, something more important than Pureblood supremacy or going
after Muggles, something more important than anything and anyone in the whole
world.”
“Well, if I'm that important,” Draco muttered angrily. “Why don't you stay home
with me, instead of rushing off every time you get the chance?”
“Don't you understand?” Lucius asked sounding like he was beginning to lose his
patience. “If I don't bend to His will, he will come after you, Draco. He will
try and get to me through you. I can't let that happen. I can't let anything
happen to you.”
“But something's already happening to me, Father,” Draco retorted, hating how
his voice was beginning to tremble. “I'm missing you. I'm missing you so much,
I'm hurting. The summer holidays have always been our time where we send Mother
away on holiday with some of her stupid friends, so we can--”
The rest of his words were drowned in the soft kiss suddenly pressed against
his lips. Draco whimpered slightly, and even though he wanted to pull away,
even though he wanted to tell his father how terrible he was feeling, he
couldn't do anything but return the kiss.
“I know,” Lucius whispered against his son's lips and Draco's eyes fluttered
closed as he felt warm fingers threading into his hair. “I am sorry, sweet
child. I will make it up to you, I promise. Once all this have ended and the
old fool and the Potter brat have fallen, things will get better. I promise
you, Draco.”
“You promise many things that don't happen,” Draco muttered and opened his eyes
to gaze into the light grey irises of his father. “Like the broom thing.”
“Broom thing?” Lucius looked perplexed over the sudden change of subject.
“Yeah,” Draco shrugged. “You promised me that if my grades improved this term,
you'd buy me the best racing broom on the market. Well, my grades did improve,
but I've never gotten any broom.”
For a moment, all Lucius had to offer was a confused blink of his eyes. Then, a
smile spread on his lips and he chuckled softly. “Sweet child,” he said and
drew Draco into a tight embrace. “You'll have your broom. I'll take you to
London tomorrow to buy it, if you want.”
Draco wanted to struggle and squirm away-- he wasn't done being angry-- but
Lucius smelled so nice and in the end he couldn't help but close his eyes and
bury himself in his father's arms.
“Really?” he whispered. “You promise?”
“I promise,” his father whispered back. “I'd give you the whole world just to
see you smile.”
“A flashy, new broom will suffice for now,” Draco mumbled and smiled a little.
It was hard to stay angry with his father for longer periods at a time.
“You know,” Lucius hummed after a while in a silence, and nuzzled his nose into
Draco's damp, white hair. “You're making my clothes all wet. Now I shall have
to change.”
“When's Mother coming home?” Draco asked as if it were a normal response to
what his father had just said-- which it more or less was.
His father smiled; a special smile that reserved only for Draco. “These types
of benefits usually lasts till late,” Lucius replied and got up. “Then, of
course, there is the after party, which I am certain that your mother will
attend as well. And by the way, I want you out of those soaked clothes before
you get a cold.”
“Yes, Father,” Draco said and got up as well. Now that his anger had subsided,
he could feel the chill again, and the warmth of the manor suddenly seemed very
alluring.
As they made their way into the manor, Draco grabbed hold of his father's robe
as he turned to head up the stairs. “Father? Will read to me tonight?”
Lucius chuckled and reached out to ruffle the pale, blond hair. “Draco, you
just turned 14,” he said. “Aren't you a bit too old for story reading?”
“But I want to, Father,” was Draco's slightly pouting reply. “I like when you
read to me. I like to listen to your voice.”
“Get yourself out of those wet clothes and we'll talk about it,” his father
replied.
                                      ~*~
When Draco snuggled up in the drawing room a few moments later, he had gotten
out of the wet clothes as his father had told him to, but he hadn't, as
probably every other child told the same message would have done, put on fresh
and dry ones. No, Draco had simply taken the Pashmina blanket from the couch
and wrapped it around himself.
It was warm and cosy, and Draco started to feel a bit drowsy as he waited for
his father to appear.
He didn't have to wait long though, because a few minutes later, Lucius stepped
through the door, dressed in fresh clothes, and he smiled as their eyes met.
“All warm?” his father asked as he sat down next to his son in the couch, and
Draco nodded.
“Then what would you like me to read to you?”
“The Adventures of Prosper the Pure,” Draco answered promptly and nodded toward
the book already lying on the mahogany table in front of the couch. The book
had been his favourite bedtime story as a child, especially when Lucius read it
aloud because he could sometime be talked into doing funny voices for the
characters. Draco's mother had always refused to do that.
Lucius chuckled softly and summoned the book. “Come here then,” he said and
hold out an arm, inviting his son to snuggle up against him, and Draco happily
did so.
                                      ~*~
“Draco? Wake up, my boy.”
Draco blinked, then groaned and opened his eyes to look up at his father's
face. Apparently, he had fallen asleep while listening to the story.
Outside the tall windows, the sky had changed from grey to black, and the
grandfather clock chimed softly in the adjourning room. Eleven strokes.
It was late, and Draco was still tired even after having slept, so he simply
wrapped Lucius' arm tighter around himself and smiled up at him. “How long did
I sleep?”
“About an hour,” his father replied and stroked the few stray locks of silvery
blond hair away from his son's forehead. “You should go to bed, son.”
“M'don't wanna,” Draco muttered, then, on a sudden whim, shifted closer and
pressed a small, soft kiss against his father's lips before whispering, “You're
so nice and warm, Daddy.”
Lucius hummed, licked his lips, then leaned in for another kiss, this time a
longer one.
Kissing; Draco loved to kiss, and especially kissing his father. Kissing his
mother meant a quick peck on the cheek and it was reserved for when extreme
measures of convincing had to be taken in use.
With a soft purr, Draco broke the kiss, shortly, only to shift into a better
position before reuniting their lips and letting his eyes fall closed.
Large warm hands were slithering their way under the blanket, slipped over
Draco's naked skin, caressing, stroking and gently grabbing, and between Draco
and his father's bodies the warmth grew to a steadily increasing heat.
It didn't take long before Draco's body began responding to the loving caresses
and the tongue exploring his mouth, and he let out a soft gasp as his cock gave
a little twitch between his pale thighs.
The drowsiness from before was all gone as Draco shifted into his father's lap,
straddling his thighs and wrapping his arms around his shoulders to deepen the
kiss. The blanket was still mostly in place around his body, although it had
slipped down a little to pool around his hips.
Lucius, apparently very satisfied with the new position, let his hands glide
down Draco's back to cup the boy's naked arse.
Draco moaned and his body reacted with yet another twitch of his cock which
started to harden, slowly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Draco was dimly
aware of the fact that it was late and that his mother could be home any
minute, but that didn't stop him from shifting once more, this time to push
down and rub his arse against his father's groin.
It drew a low and soft growl from the back of Lucius' throat and the hands on
Draco's arse cheeks squeezed the tender flesh.
“Daddy?” Draco whispered, pulling back to look into his father's darkened eyes.
They always seemed to go from light grey to deep grey, almost like heavy rain
clouds, when Draco was kissing him.
“Mh?” Lucius hummed and licked his lips. “Yes, my boy?”
“I want to,” Draco muttered and lowered his gaze. He always got embarrassed
when he had to talk about these kinds of things. “I-- I want to do it. That
thing.”
“What thing?” his father asked, smiling and clearly enjoying himself very much.
“That thing, you know,” Draco murmured, feeling how his cheeks grew warm.
“That-- that naughty thing.”
“Ah, that thing.” Lucius was smirking, then raised a hand to stroke over his
son's flushed cheek. “Then close your eyes, sweet child, and lean your head
against my shoulder.”
Draco did as his father told him to. He took a deep breath, chewing his bottom
lip. He knew what was coming as he felt the tip of Lucius' forefinger nudging
against the corner of his mouth and he opened up obediently.
It was almost like a ritual by now; Lucius would make Draco suck on his finger
for a while, then slip his hand down to slide said finger between the boy's
buttocks to gently push it inside him. This time was no different.
“Ahh,” Draco moaned softly and shifted his head to bury his face in the curve
between his father's neck and shoulder. It always took his body a little time
to adjust and relax around the finger, but when it did, another small moan
escaped Draco's lips as Lucius began moving it.
“Oh, the sounds you make,” a soft voice whispered in Draco's ear, and he felt
warm lips pressed against the smooth patch of skin right under his ear while
fingers shifted to rub over the stretch of soft skin right behind Draco's
scrotum.
With an involuntary jerk, Draco's body arched back and he let out a high-
pitched, mewing whine. It was a mystery why he always reacted to strongly
whenever being touched on that particular spot, but it was certain every time.
After discovering this, Lucius had begun to refer to it as Draco's honey spot,
simply because, he said, Draco's reaction was as sweet as honey.
What had, moments before, been soft tickling between Draco's thighs, was now
red-hot throbbing, and he wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders and
leaned in to whimper in his ear, coaxing him to add another finger.
And Lucius did just that, and Draco's moaning grew louder. It was like a drug
that only got better and better every time he took it, and Draco swore he was
going to be a hardcore addict for the rest of his life.
Rolling his hips and beginning to rock slowly back and forth in his father's
lap, Draco invited Lucius to add yet another finger. He was getting slightly
impatient and it only got worse by feeling the rock hard bulge between his
father's legs. He wanted it now!
Finally, it seemed like even Lucius was beginning to lose it because his
fingers were withdrawn to instead begin to open his belt.
Draco helped him, fumbling in his eagerness, and he let out a soft sigh when he
eventually could curl his fingers around his father's slightly twitching
erection.
But this was no time for taking it slow; Draco couldn't wait any longer, and,
shifting again, he re-positioned himself in Lucius' lap, one hand still wrapped
around the thick shaft to guide it to his entrance.
Lucius' fingers made themselves useful in Draco's hair, grabbing fistfuls of it
to tug Draco close enough to kiss while he slowly pressed his way past the ring
of muscle.
It was bliss, pure, unspoiled bliss, and Draco's groaned into his father's
mouth and his body shivered from the wave of sensations that washed over him.
It felt so, so good that he was sure he was going to explode right there in the
drawing room with all the portrait averting their eyes. Just because they knew
what was happening, it didn't they had to look, an elegant, elderly woman had
shrieked at Draco one day.
But Draco didn't care if they watched or not, if they knew or not. All he cared
about was the man holding him tight, the man panting against his neck, the man
making him love to him.
They had done this so many times before that their movements had somehow
synchronised themselves with each other, and thinking or using your mind for
anything other than pleasure was unnecessary.
Each body moved in time with the other, rocking and thrusting, like the
perfected machine, greased with the sweat from their bodies and the spit from
their mouths.
Perfection had always been the aim of the Malfoy family, and perfection was
created between father and son, perfection was sparkling down Draco's spine,
making him gasp out yelping whimpers, perfection was in those large hands
tightly clutching his hips, guiding his movements, perfection spurted out of
Draco's cock as it jerked and splattered his belly and the front of his
father's robes with come.
And finally, perfection was when Draco felt his father's grip on his hips
tightened and when his cock twitched inside him. It was perfection that filled
him up and perfection that began to leak from him and slowly trickle its way
down his father's balls.
“My perfect son,” Lucius breathed and carded his fingers through Draco's damp
hair, tugging him close for a tender kiss. “You make your daddy such a happy
man.”
Draco's reply was merely a soft and satisfied sigh because after waiting
outside in the rain and making love to Lucius, he was now utterly exhausted.
Before his mind drifted too far off, he heard a soft chuckle and a whispered,
“I know a little boy who needs to go to bed now.”
Then he felt the blanket, which had slipped off him and fallen to the floor,
being wrapped around him, and he purred and snuggled into his father's arms as
he was lifted off the couch and carried to his room.
After that, there was nothing but warm, soft blackness.
                                      ~*~
End Notes
     Disclaimer: I own none of this.
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