A/N: This little one-shot was originally written for the Off With A BANG! Challenge over at The Maple Bookshelf with the prompt "Oh, Stop it. You're not supposed to wallow on your birthday until you're at *least *150.".
The characters depicted in this story are the property of J.K. Rowling and company. I make no profit from this work.
Lucius Malfoy sat alone at his dining room table early on a Saturday morning, his customary cup of tea in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other. A fierce scowl twisted his mouth as he stared at the paper, not at the headline as one would expect, but at the date printed below the masthead. November 29, 2004. The date marking the fiftieth anniversary of his birth. He cast the paper down on the polished wood of the table, a disgusted noise rising in his throat. He had might as well select his funeral service and get it over with.
"Wimbly! Breakfast!" he called out, irritation lacing his tone, though it was entirely self-directed. It was only seconds after his call when he heard the heavy oak doors behind him swing open and the padding of small feet headed in his direction. He started slightly when, instead of his breakfast being placed in front of him by the loyal family elf as he had expected, a pair of small, warm hands slid over his shoulders, squeezing gently.
"Good morning birthday boy," his wife said softly in his ear, her tone playful.
"Good morning," he replied tersely, reaching for his tea and taking a long sip. He could almost hear his wife's frown as her hands left his shoulders and she marched around the table to stand in front of him, her hands now perched on her hips.
A crinkle appeared between her brows as she asked, "What's wrong with you this morning Lucius? First you disappear from bed in the middle of the night, and now you're snapping at me?" Her face fell and there was a slight tremor to her voice by the end of her sentence.
He groaned softly and held out his hand to the lovely young witch, drawing her carefully onto his lap when she took it. "I'm sorry, love," he whispered, nuzzling her riotous chestnut curls gently and stroking one hand down her arm. "I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't want to disturb you with an old man's tossing and turning."
He felt the witch tense in his lap and she turned to face him, her voice incredulous. "That's what this is all about, your birthday?"
He hesitated before turning away from her gaze, choosing to stare at the fire crackling in the grate instead of confirming her all-too-correct assumption. Suddenly her bell-like laugh sounded in the quiet room and she spoke, reaching up to frame his face with her hands and turn him back to face her again. "Oh, stop it Lucius! You're not supposed to wallow about on your birthday until you're at least 150." He scowled and her fingers unconsciously moved to smooth the lines that appeared on his forehead. She shifted closer to him with a little wiggle of her hips and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Perhaps you'll allow me to demonstrate exactly how not at all elderly you are Mr. Malfoy?" He raised one white-blond brow and she grinned unashamedly.
He growled suddenly and threaded his fingers through her dark hair, tugging her close to claim her lips hard with his. The pair broke apart a moment later, each breathing slightly harder. With a wry twist of his lips, Lucius reached into his robes and removed his wand, warding the door against interruption from unsuspecting house-elves. His wife smirked, an expression he was certain she had learned from him, and hopped off his lap to stand in front of him, slowly undoing the clasps lining the front of her icy blue robes. Lucius's mouth dried as it quickly became obvious that she wasn't wearing clothing beneath her robes, the sides falling open to reveal only a delicate black lace demi-bra and matching boy shorts.
"Happy birthday Lucius," she murmured, her voice low and silky, a sound that caused his trousers to tighten uncomfortably. Flashing him a wicked little grin, the witch moved so that she was back in her husband's lap, this time straddling him, her hips pressed firmly against his groin. He let out a muttered curse before swooping to capture her lips again. His tongue demanded entrance, while his hands reveled in the velvet feel of her skin. He slid one hand deftly up her back, freeing the clasp of her bra and removing it with an ease bred by practice. He cupped one of her heavy breasts in his hand, rolling the nipple gently between two fingers and eliciting a whimper from the woman. He smirked triumphantly and continued to torment her, bending her back so that he could suckle at one dark red bud while his fingers toyed with the other.
It wasn't long before his petite wife was writhing in his lap, panting and whimpering in supplication. "Lucius," she begged, grinding her hips against him in an effort to relieve the pressure that was building in her. Her supplication, coupled with the look of heavy desire in her amber eyes was too much for the man and he stood quickly, setting her down gently in front of him, kissing her hard as her fingers went to the front of his trousers, unbuttoning them nimbly. Her small hand wrapped tight around his cock as it sprang free and she smiled as he stifled a moan against her lips. Her thumb swiped across the weeping tip, spreading the moisture there as she began to slide her hand slowly over him. He allowed her actions for only a moment before grabbing her wrist and tugging her hand away, pinning it behind her back as his other hand pushed her panties off her hips. She broke his kiss, staring wide-eyed up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of lust and love that prove to be his undoing. Without another thought, he turned her in his arms and pressed her forward against their dining room table. One of his hands drifted over the subtle curve of her stomach to her slit, dipping his fingers into her wetness with a pleased noise. His wicked little wife let out a wanton moan, pushing back against him as his fingers found her clit, strumming it gently. He nipped at her shoulder, admonishing her to still as he abandoned her clit, moving one large hand to cover the rounding of her abdomen protectively while he used the other to line his cock against her opening before entering her in one smooth stroke. She arched with a whimper and he smirked, knowing how much his wife enjoyed being taken in this manner, a fact evidenced by the bump his hand covered. He withdrew almost completely before plunging back into the velvet grip of her channel. He repeated the motion several times, enjoying the way it made the witch beneath him quiver before shifting one hand to her hip, quickening his pace and angling her slightly so the tip of his cock bumped against that secret spot with every move he made.
Before long, his wife was moaning uncontrollably beneath him, her hips slamming back to meet his over and over, their breath coming in hard pants. Knowing he was close to losing all control, Lucius moved his hand to again cover her clit, rubbing hard against it in small circles. Almost instantly his wife arched with a near-scream, her inner muscles clenching in a vise around his cock and pulling him over the edge along with her. After a few long moments during which he made sure not to crush her under his weight, Lucius collapsed back in his chair, tugging her along with him, back into his lap. The pair sat in silence for several long minutes, his hand stroking gently the pregnant swell of her belly and her hands toying gently with his hair.
"See, not old at all," she finally whispered sleepily.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, returning in a hushed whisper with a smile, "The best is yet to be, Hermione."
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed, and feel suitably sappy now. Don't forget to leave a review!