A/N: So basically, the story behind this is very simple: I have been unfathomably horny for the past week, and I don't know why, but it has resulted in many lemony stories like this. These sorts of things are quite delicious to write.
Anyway, I've recently gotten in touch with my love of the Malfoys. It has always been there, but I've only just discovered it. I have realized that I LOVE Lucius, and want him desperately, and that was what spurred this little piece of writing. This is my first time writing about them, though, so please bare with that fact as you read this. Critique on their characterization would be lovely, seeing as I've never done them before, and need practice.
Oh, and yes, you may call me a masochist if you want, because it's probably true, but I just view their relationship like this.
Goodness! I apologize for the unnecessarily long Author's Note. Now, on with the sex! I mean... the story!
Our relationship is a funny one.
We were young when we met, it's true, but loved so deeply, even then, that I can't possibly express it. His proud eyes were cold—grey, distant, and dark—but so soft as they peered into mine for the first time that I was held suddenly captive, and immediately taken breathless by his gaze. From that moment on we shared an almost unfathomable passion that even to this day has not gone. A spark was lit in our hearts the moment we first stared into each other's faces, and has not once been put out.
My hand met his once—just once—and it only took that one touch to understand something impossible: the incomprehensible thing that we would come to call love, but at the time, knew only as lust. Years later, that lust still lingers.
And so it was the memory of our first meeting that woke me one night, and had me sweating, shaking, and thrashing horribly about in the bed sheets. My eyes snapped open quickly, and immediately they began to water. The air was cold, and the absence of him beside me in our bed was driving me mad. I had apparently twisted myself into a tight cocoon of blankets in my sleep, and I knew it was because I had dreamt of him.
The lack of him there with me was making me shiver and sob. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle my cries so that my son would not hear me down the hall. I had to be strong for him. He was losing his father just as much as I was losing my husband.
I won't tell you that we were really losing him. I mean… he wasn't gone. Not for good, anyway. As a prominent member of the Death Eaters, he was away from our family for long periods of time; that was all. Every second he spent away from us though was agony, and pained me to endless amounts, such that it felt as though he really were dead. Every moment he spent out there, working for the Dark Lord, he was at risk of being killed or imprisoned, and these thoughts tormented me every night. I grew sickly and paler than usual as I began to lack sleep. I would lay awake each night feeling hollow and empty, our king-sized bed seeming extremely devoid of comfort without him there next to me.
I thought of our son. I thought of how my husband had told me to make sure our son would be safe, and the way his eyes had glistened, for the first time ever in my memory, with tears of fear as he told me he didn't ever want our boy to become like him. I remembered placing my hands on his face, distorted sadly with the idea of our child growing up to become a Death Eater like him. I told him it would be okay, that he would be safe, and that he didn't have to continue his work as a Death Eater.
It was then that my husband cried to me for the first and last time, hugging me closely to him, his great, stiff body heaving terribly against me, his face nuzzled in my hair, as much needed, long-concealed tears of worry leaked down his long nose and staining his sharp features.
Shaking my head, I tried to not think of him… I tried to not think of the way his eyes bore into mine when we looked at each other, or the way his hands sent waves of excitement down my spine when they were on me.
I couldn't. I was unable to vanish my thoughts, and, bottom lip quivering, I forced my face into my pillow.
Suddenly unable to control myself, I began to sob. The pillowcase grew wet beneath my clenched eyes, but I didn't care. My world was out of control. My husband was a part of something dangerous, despite how good of a cause it was, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Everything was spinning, it seemed, and without him, I couldn't handle my own mind. Miserable thoughts would swim constantly in my head without him there to keep me sane, and I would wallow in them until I went mad. Everything was confusing without my husband near me.
I needed him now: I needed his arms around me, his body moving against mine, his hand caressing my fingers, his cheek lightly touching my own… I needed him more than I could possibly say, and it was killing me, though I hated to admit it. Admitting feelings was weak, I knew, and never let myself appear heartbroken in public, even when I was breaking inside.
The pure silence of my bedroom drove me crazy. Wind hardly whistled through the open window, though a chill hung despondently in the air as the black of night pressed in on me, suffocating me. Everything was silent but for my broken, choking sobs into my pillow. I was like an orphaned child, all alone, missing its family, as I cried to myself pathetically. My long fingers gripped the bedposts above my head, and though I felt my palms burning and my knuckles growing sore, I did not let go. The pain was nice compared to the empty, gaping hole within me that was the place my husband belonged.
A crack struck the air, and made me jump. My heart leapt as I was hoping… praying that what I wanted was about to come true… that I would turn to see his cold eyes staring into me with hunger and desire, having missed me as much as I'd missed him.
My heart throbbed painfully in my ears, and I ceased my crying to lift my head from my pillow. With a sniff, I called, "Lucius?" I held my breath, still not turning around. I couldn't let myself take the disappointment of looking over my shoulder to find a room as empty as it had been.
But then, with an electric touch, delicate, well-manicured hands were on my back, and the mattress was squeaking as a person sat down on it beside me. The enticing fingertips I knew so well ran down my spine, and back up, making me shiver, before beginning to massage my shoulders. I groaned in delight and relief, and rested my head down upon the pillow once more, feeling unbelievably elated. He had come when I had needed him, and for that, there were no words to express my thanks.
"Narcissa," the familiar, hissing voice whispered into my ear, leaning over me. I shuddered violently, and moaned his name as his soft mouth found its way to the back of my neck.
Everything was suddenly okay again. His presence dragged me from my state of depression, the way it always did whenever he came home on these rare occasions. Whenever he did, the world was better. I heard him mutter something, and knew he was silencing our room so that any sounds from within it could not be overheard.
I closed my eyes, letting his hands tell my body how much they'd missed the feel of me, not bothering to ruin his long-awaited return with useless words. After a moment of letting him caress my back, I could take no more, and turned to face him.
His face was just as it had been the last time we'd said goodbye. His eyes looked heavier and more miserable, but then, so did mine. Their deep grey melted me as they stared me down. The corners of my lips twitched in an awkward oncoming smile, as though I had forgotten how to do it.
His mouth saved mine the need to remember, however, as it pressed itself upon me, his tongue enveloping mine and taking in apparently every inch of my lips. His tongue was lush in my mouth, and tasted to right and perfect, the way it always had. Oh, how I had so missed this taste of him.
The lusciousness of his lips upon mine made my groan into him. He pulled away to smirk at me, and whisper, "I've missed you, Narcissa," as his hot breath hit my face, making me swoon for more from him.
Unable to stand being apart from him for so long, and unable to stay away anymore, I wrapped my arms around him in a single, sudden movement, entangling my fingers in his long, white-blonde hair. Our mouths met once more, and as he kissed me—so slowly and so deeply—I found him on top of me, my body pressed ruthlessly to the bed, pinned there tightly, completely crushed by his muscular self. A tickling sensation found its way into the pit of my stomach, and I giggled softly against his lips as they still kissed me deeply. I was myself again—I was whole, and complete once more as his massive hands worked their way up my silk nightdress. His hands were taking in every inch of my sides. They felt rough, and so good on my smooth skin. His touch and taste were the antidotes for my recent misery.
Feeling the bulge I knew so well against my inner thigh, and hearing his groan of excitement against my neck as he began to kiss it tenderly, it all became too much. Unable to control myself, I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer to me, grinding my hips on his arousal as I suddenly took control, flipping him onto his back.
He was mine… mine at last, after a week and a half of his absence, and the long-suppressed need for him was finally displaying itself in my hard movements. I moved quickly down his body, stripping his legs bare, and taking him into my mouth. I heard him groan somewhere above me, and allowed myself a glance up at him thrusting his head back in pleasure as I worked him into a very deep sweat. I felt him quivering inside my mouth, felt his body going rigid, and knew I had to let go. Moving back up him, I tore away all remainder of clothing from his sweat-drenched, stiff torso. I ran my hands along his stomach, teasing his chest with kisses and bites, letting my bare legs caress his own.
I was on my back once more as he groaned with desire, breathing hotly in my ear. We were both panting with our cravings for each other. I needed him in me… I needed it now, so badly…
He pinned my arms above my head with one hand, and twisted his other hand into my hair, clutching my scalp so tightly that my head was forced upward. I laughed, enjoying the pain as his fingernails dug into the flesh of my wrist, and my neck began to ache from my position. It always felt so good when he hurt me.
I could feel him tormenting me… feel his hardened self hovering above me, touching my thighs as my legs quivered on either side of his naked body. He licked my neck, and I let out a strangled cry of need as he laughed torturously at me. "Tell me you love me," he hissed coldly.
"I do," I gasped.
"I love you!" I moaned.
"Beg for me to take you."
"Take me, Lucius."
"BEG for it," he sneered, making me grow hot and wet beneath him.
"Please, Lucius, PLEASE!"
And he pressed into me at last, squeezing himself in between my legs.
Bliss washed over me, and we panted and groaned against each other passionately, savoring our love as he thrust into me.
"Oh, Lucius," I began crying over and over into his ear. "Oh… Lucius!"
"Narcissa," he gasped.
I squirmed, but couldn't move my arms. It was torment, and I was sobbing. I wanted to throw my arms around him, wanted to take him deeper into me, but my legs were pinned beneath him, my arms still stuck in his grasp, and it was pure agony not to be able to move. I struggled in anguish to free my arms, but he did not let go. Each violent thrust made me omit a deafening scream of his name, and I was suffering immensely, though greatly enjoying such torture.
"Lucius… God, Lucius, please…" I moaned, biting my lip as the pleasure continued to build.
He growled, and bit my neck brutally. As I yelped in exhilaration, he sighed, "Tell me you're mine, Narcissa."
"Always," I sobbed, "Always, I'm yours!"
"You're mine," he repeated with an agonizingly pleasurable thrust of his hips.
"Yours!" I screamed. "Yours! Yours!"
And quite suddenly, my arms were free, as was my neck. I flung my arms around his back, raking one hand down his spine, digging the nails of my other hand into his shoulders until blood began to gather there. He grunted in pleasure at the pain, and our bodies began to move with animalistic, primal instincts of desire. His teeth sunk deeply into the nape of my neck, and my whole body began to spasm as things reached such a height that I was gone, and could think no more. I needed to scream…
"Scream for me," he whispered in a strangled voice.
I screamed gladly, as his grunts grew into a seductively loud tone in my ear, and the pleasure was so great that tears were falling down my face. "Oh, Lucius," I choked, "Lucius! Harder!"
He obliged graciously. He plunged deeper and deeper into me, his entire body shoving itself against mine brutally. My fingers were sliding in sweat upon his back as our bodies were dripping with it. Our hips were bruising sadistically as we slammed ourselves against each other, meeting one another's thrusts with thrusts of even more forceful aggression.
And suddenly he was filling me up, releasing within my body, and I shuddered violently as he continued to pull out and dive back in, hard, our wetness slipping against each other, driving us both insane. Euphoric ecstasy was in my very blood, it seemed, and I was suddenly dizzy with the incomprehensible goodness of his touch.
I was slowly growing heavy and exhausted, the feelings of dizziness slipping away, leaving me with a light-headed feeling of perfection, finally complete, after so long. He went slack at last, and rolled off of me. I didn't like being away from him, even in the few moments in which his body parted from mine. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his, the feeling of bubbling excitement still fervent in my lower belly.
"Lucius," I sighed into his chest as he hugged me to him.
"Narcissa," he breathed quietly. "I've missed your screaming."
I smiled serenely against him, unsure of what else to do.
"I love you," I told him, feeling my eyelids starting to grow heavy with tiredness.
He let out a low purr in agreement, and soon, his chest was expanding and releasing slowly as his breathing evened out. His breaths were deep and steady, and I could hear his heart beating elegantly behind his ribs. Even his heartbeat was proud and strong, just as he was. Even his heartbeat was, like him, beautiful.
The warm silence fell again, no longer obstructed by the panting of our love, or the squeaking of our bed. The chilly night air was especially cold on my sweaty, naked body, but I was unbelievably calm. I felt complete. The world was good again. No longer suffering from his absence, I was happy once more.
With a small smile on my thin lips, I fell asleep with the hope that my husband would still be here against me when I awoke next morning.