Malfoy Manner: The Reading Hour
"What the fuck are we doing?"
Narcissa Malfoy peered over her book at her son and blinked. "I am reading my book and minding my tongue, Draco. What are you doing?"
Draco blinked back. He folded his book closed in his lap. "We're reading."
She sighed. "Yes, it would appear that way. But the truth is, I am attempting to read while a foul-mouthed prat accosts me at every turn."
"Huh." He grimaced. "You've aged me before my time, witch."
That got her attention. "I beg your pardon?"
"This is what old people do, mother! Old married couples who no longer produce estrogen or testosterone." He gestured to the inches between them. "Look! We might as well get two single beds and put a bloody night table between them!"
"What a delightful idea," she bit back. "How novel to read in peace and awaken without an erection in my bum crease." She returned to her book, ignored the stricken expression on his face.
There was a minute of full silence. "Did you do this with my father?"
It was her turn to be stricken. "That is… Draco, I didn't even share a bed with your father!"
"You did once, at least. I'm his son, after all."
"You don't know that."
He closed his eyes as if in prayer. "Gods, mother. Please tell me I'm not Lucius Malfoy's son. It would be my ultimate fantasy come true."
She chuckled. "Whose son would you rather be?"
He grinned. "Anyone's. A mudblood window-washer."
"I'm sorry to disappoint," Narcissa said gently.
"Damn." Draco re-opened his book.
His book slammed shut. "Lies!" He glared at her laughing face. "Not funny, mum."
She sobered. "I know. I apologize. Would you like to know the truth?"
"You're full of bollocks tonight." He looked back to his book. "There shall be no truth from your sinful lips."
"The truth is…you came to me twenty two years ago…as you are now…by way of a time-turner. And thusly, you are your own father." Her eyes darted to his face, then back to her book.
"You're twisted, mum."
She withheld a smile.
"Gods." He settled back into his own book. "I bet you were blazing in the sack back then."
Her book lowered. "Just what are you implying?"
"I'm just saying…I bet you were a right demon in the sheets those days. Now, we lay here and read together."
"What?" He looked at her innocently over his pages.
She spluttered a moment, eyes disbelieving. "I have spread for you…" She held up fingers and began to tick them off. "In a muggle car, on the Minister of Magic's desk, in a dressing room, in a filthy public loo…" She trailed off. "I – I can't even remember all of the debasements I've suffered for your sexual gratification! How dare you tell me –"
"There was that coat closet at the Ministry," he interrupted helpfully.
"Exactly!" She huffed. "So don't think I'm used up, yet." She looked back to her reading. "Arsehole."
Draco looked back to his book, as well. "Yes, you did let me have that, too." She tisked. Silence fell once more. He sniffed. "What are you reading, then?"
She sniffed. "The Elf."
He groaned painfully, stared at her incredulously. "Please tell me you are having me on, witch! You are not reading that bloody book!"
"Oh, what the devil now?" She glared at him. "What is wrong with my book?"
"That fucking book…" He shook with the inability to form a coherent insult. "It's just bloody awful, mum! I think it turns women menopausal before their times! You could be in danger by reading it. Gods! Merlin's sac! No wonder we're not fucking right now!" He reached for the book. "Give it to me! I must destroy it!"
They wrestled over the book. "Stop it!" She slapped at his hands. "You menace! Leave it!"
He settled back with a heavy, defeated sigh. "I can't believe you're reading The bloody Elf…"
"Everyone is reading it," she defended hotly. "I want to see what the fuss is about."
"The fuss?" He groaned again.
"And my book club is reading it," she added quietly.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't even hear that." Draco sulked against his propped pillows, hands crossed over the forgotten book on his lap.
Narcissa scowled. "And what miraculous masterpiece are you reading, oh scholarly one?"
"Your sarcasm is not needed." He pointed at her. She snapped her teeth at his finger. "Minx." He blushed a little. "If you must know…"
"…it's a muggle book I found."
Her brow arched. "You attack me for reading popular fiction and you're reading a muggle book!" Her mouth gaped. "You hypocrite!"
"Hardly!" He flapped the book. "It's most fascinating."
"What is it?" She reached for it and he slapped her hands away.
"It's for men," he said.
"So it's a picture book?"
"You sharp-tongued she-devil," Draco drawled. "It's called The Low-Down on Going Down."
"Going down where?" She asked. She was still craning to get a look at the cover he kept so well-hidden.
"Let me show you," Draco said.
"I'm not going anywhere at this hour, son."
"Of course not, mum! I will be the one going somewhere." He leaned toward her.
She leaned toward him, expecting a great secret to be revealed. "Where are you going?" She whispered.
Draco kissed her. His lips were gentle on hers, and she moaned sweetly into the caress. His hand slipped beneath their duvet, shifted up her leg. She jumped and gasped when he slipped his fingers just past the barrier of her knickers to stroke her moist cleft. "I'd be going here, Narcissa," he hissed in her mouth.
"Oh…" Her copy of The Elf slipped over the edge of the bed.
In smooth seconds, her nightgown was over her head and her knickers were stuck on one ankle. Draco was rough with his maneuverings, and she grunted when he pulled her thigh over his shoulder. He growled in frustration. "What?" Narcissa asked. She looked down at him worriedly.
He kissed her fuzzy mons and looked up at her. "I need to free up my range of motion."
Her face quirked charmingly. "Wha…"
"Here." He flopped onto his back, scooted up to the pillows. "Now." His hands gestured her upward. "Sit."
"Sit?" She was on her knees, regarding him warily. "Sit where?"
Draco reached for her. "On my face, mum. Come on!"
She drew her arms away, flushed brightly. "Oh, Draco. No! That's so…provincial. I couldn't."
He gaped at her. "You baffle me, you know? The Quidditch World Cup incident? I fingered you under a blanket while Harry Bloody Potter whispered scores in your ear, but you won't sit on my face in the comfort of our bed?" He could tell she was torn. "I promise you will be amazed."
He rolled his eyes and reached for her again. "Nonsense. It's all in the positioning. Come on."
"Draco…" She straddled his belly stiffly, let him tug her up to his chest. She stopped. "Wait."
"Wait for what? You're almost here." He licked his lips. "Come on, mum. Let me taste your sweet pussy."
She blushed full-on and stuttered, but she was too stymied to offer any further resistance and he settled her thighs alongside his head. "Good girl, Narcissa." She looked down at him with a hand over her mouth. "Now, why don't you hold onto the headboard – good. Good." He worked his hands around her thighs. "Spread a bit wider for me, mum. I don't want to strain my neck."
She whimpered as his hands firmly urge her thighs further apart, dropping her cunt to his chin. "Draco…"
"Narcissa." He tugged at her buttocks and she felt the first fall of his tongue in her folds.
"Shite!" She tensed and cried out.
Draco chuckled and held her hips steady. He loved making his mother curse, and removing her from her pleasure comfort zone was a sure fire way to achieve such an end. Besides, it was an exciting change – seeing the glistening pink bud of her clit peeking at him this way. Occasionally, it retreated beneath its orchidous coverlet, and he decided to see if he could encourage it to remain visible.
He flicked at the organ, then suckled, all the time reveling in her bucking and irreverent garble. "Oh, Draco! Sweet fucking goddess bless! Oh!" His cock hardened and he groaned against her swelling secret. He mingled his fingers alongside his tongue, spread open her reddening folds. "Yesyes! Merlin! Yes, son!"
He teased her tightening slit, slipping his fingertip gently up and down, never quite reaching the nubbin his lips massaged. Her earlier hesitance seemed to bleed away completely. One hand curled in his hair while the other maintained her grip on the headboard. "Fucking gods help me when you finish that book, Draco," she gasped. He slicked his tongue up her slit firmly in reply and she ground against him. "Oh! I'm sorry!"
Draco looked up. It was incredibly erotic – seeing his mother from this angle. Her firm breasts shadowed her graceful ribs, the hardened nipples jutting forward with every gyration of her hips. "Stop apologizing and ride my face, mother," he grumbled. The vibrations of his voice set her moaning deeper, so he hummed steadily, keeping rhythm to his ministrations.
He delved deeply, let the tip of his tongue graze a place inside her that made her shriek. Then, he flattened the stroke to encompass both sides of her sensitized inner lips. He punctuated this action with a hard suck on her now grotesquely swollen clit.
She was sweating and ranting above him, fingers squeaking as they clenched on the mahogany headboard. "Shit, Draco…I'm so close. Oh, darling! So sweet! So good!"
He bore down on her, now eager to fuck her. His fingers roughened, pinched the pearl of her undoing while his tongue mercilessly lapped at it. She fell to keening pants and he had to tighten an arm around her hips to hold her to his immoral mouth. He needed her to come…
So he clutched her still and plunged the formerly pinching fingers into her impossibly tight sheath, fucked her with a quick rocking stroke and rolled her clit between his lips. The maneuver was the golden ratio…
Narcissa's head fell back on a guttural howl and her thighs nearly boxed his ears. Shamelessly, she rode out the waves and Draco prolonged the pleasure by gentling his strokes and lightening his suction.
Finally, she collapsed against the headboard. "Oh…" She whimpered feebly. "Draco…"
He kissed her thigh. It was shaking from muscle strain and exhaustion. "Yes, mother?" His jaw ached a bit.
"Mm-hm." He looked up. Her lovely blue eyes were black slits and her lips were plump from biting. He grinned. She was ripe for the taking. "Lay down, Narcissa. You need to rest."
"I do…" She groaned as he pushed her onto her back.
His chin, neck and fingers were sticky with her juices. "You're a very wet witch, mum." He crawled between her bent knees, watched them wobble and fall open. He fingered her wide open cunt. "And nicely relaxed." She moaned when he slid his cock into her, folded tired arms over his shoulders. "Oh, but you feel so fucking good." He kissed her neck and shoulders, hips falling flush with hers.
"I'm glad you think so," she told him breathlessly. Aggressively, he hugged her hips, cupped her ass and boosted her up. "Oh!" She exclaimed.
"'Oh' is right." He pumped swiftly, enjoying her hitching gasps. "Yes," he hissed. "Legs up, Cissa."
"What?" She grunted.
"I said 'legs up,'" he snapped. Pleasure shortened his temper. He hooked her knees over his shoulders when she raised them. "Fuck, yes – like that." She cried out at the shallower thrusts – the burn on her already over-sensitive inner walls. "Come again for me," he rasped.
He growled. "The hell you can't." His fingers clutched at her arse cheeks, spread them. The moisture from her cunt sluiced toward her pucker and he briskly slicked it upward, penetrating the tight orifice easily. She growled back at him and bit down – hard – on his shoulder. "I said come again for me, Narcissa." The finger fucked her arse in time with his cock in her cunt. "You can play lady of the manor later," he snarled. "But right now I need you to be the nasty slut that just fucked her boy's face and goddamn come for me."
She gripped his arse cheeks in clawed hands. Her teeth broke skin and her breath blew a thin spatter of blood down his back as she surrendered to fate and obeyed his command on a pained wail.
Draco threw his head back - a dragon victorious, howling proud while his prize milked him dry. "Oh, hell…Narcissa." All of his muscles tensed then relaxed like a stretching tiger. Her knees fell easily from his shoulders, helped along by the coat of sweat glistening on their bodies. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, tasted his blood sharp on her lips. "Bloody fuck…" He chuffed.
She rubbed his nose with her own. "Yes, quite."
He smiled tiredly. "Shall I leave you to your reading now?"
"I'm afraid I've lost interest."
Draco rolled them to their sides, held her to him lazily. "You sure, mum? I'd hate for you to miss out on the inner workings of the house elf's secret society of servitude."
"You're an incredible lover, dragon." His mother kissed his chest. "But it doesn't give you license for facetiousness."
"Incredible, eh?" He nuzzled the top of her sweaty head. "I learned it in a muggle book." He could feel her smile spread against his skin. "There's one for women, you know…"
"Mm-hm. It's called Blow Him Away. Shall I procure it for you?"
Just then, she raised up on her elbow, one eyebrow quirked as she regarded him. "Draco."
"Do you think I need a muggle book to…blow you away?"
His face sobered. "I – I didn't mean to imply – "
"I'm hurt," she interrupted. But her tone was playful. Her fingers wandered down his chest, over his chiseled belly. He lurched. "Perhaps I can prove to you now – "
"Mum!" He grabbed her hand, stilled it.
"Yes?" She asked innocently.
"I'm really quite knackered at the moment." He sounded apologetic.
"Oh." She didn't hide her disappointment. "Well, then." She bent over the edge of the bed, retrieved his book and plopped it on his chest. "By all means, son of mine…finish your reading." She settled into her pillows expectantly. "I'm not knackered at all…"
Draco gulped and opened his book. "You're a demon, woman. Perhaps you should be reading The Elf, after all."
Narcissa merely chuckled darkly.
AN: The Low-Down on Going Down is a real book - if you're interested. It's by Marcy Michaels - who also wrote the real book Blow Him Away. The Elf is not a real book - thank the goddess. It's a spoof of a real book, though. But I'm not naming any names...