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The Twelve Days of Smutmas	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14927 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Summary: In an effort to bolster the Malfoy name, Draco throws a Christmas party. Lucius stands on the edge of the festivities and as he observes the guests his son has managed to convince into coming, his eyes invariably fall to Potter, now good friend to his son. The sight of him stirs in Lucius a desire he had not expected to feel, and the elder Malfoy begins to plot how to best get the Saviour of the Wizarding World into his bed.
Christmas Spirits

It was a wholly uncommon occurrence in these days of peace for Lucius Malfoy's home to be filled with such noise.

Stranger still was the gay merrymaking that sounded from his ballroom, in place of the fearful and torturous cries that had filled the silence only a handful of years prior. Trust the Malfoy heir to attempt to bring some positivity back to the Malfoy name—in the form of a Christmas Party.

To Draco's credit, it was not some ridiculous kegger—or whatever young people called getting three sheets to the wind and shagging each other silly these days. His house was noisy, yes, his ballroom moreso; the jumble of high society guests—both Ministry Officials and a handful of celebrities (how Draco had convinced Gwenog Jones to attend would be an eternal mystery), and a number of old, respected families, blended in remarkably well with common folk that had likely never set foot in such a home in their lives.

Draco's attempt at a more diverse crowd beyond just Slytherin alumni meant that there were some families Lucius was all too pleased to welcome into his home (The McLaggens and Smiths, as per example), but he had yet to comprehend why Draco had felt the need to invite his classmates Longbottom and Lovegood, or Weasley and his little mudblood wife.

The only guest Lucius had not been surprised to see in attendance was Harry Potter.

His son and Potter had been spending an inordinate amount of time together over the last year, and for a long while Lucius had assumed that they were seeing one another. He had been somewhat displeased that Draco had not come to him straightaway, considering his own proclivities towards both sexes, which he'd never bothered to conceal from his only child.

When at last Lucius had lost his patience and confronted Draco, he could still recall, even months later, the highly entertaining reaction the accusation had incited.

“Me, in love with Potter? What on earth gave you that idea?” Draco sputtered indignantly, his eyes wide with shock.

“You spent your entire adolescence complaining about him, and now in your young adult life he is spending a great amount of time here,” Lucius replied smoothly, “what conclusion would you have come to in that scenario?”

“We're friends,” Draco replied at once with a flush, “just friends. Potter might be a shirt lifter, but I am most assuredly not.”

The memory floated to the forefront of Lucius's mind as his eyes fell on Potter, who was standing at the edge of the festivities, drink in hand while he smiled weakly at an unfamiliar girl, who was fawning over him quite enthusiastically.

He muttered something to her, from Lucius's standpoint he couldn't make out the exact words, but he assumed that it was a polite rejection, as the girl retreated from him a moment later, head bowed sadly.

Potter, on the other hand, looked quite relieved that she'd gone.

Lucius helped himself to another drink as he regarded the young boy-hero.

Times of peace had done wonders for him, and he looked less like the haggard, downtrodden creature that had taken down the Dark Lord a mere handful of years earlier, and now he looked more like an actual human being. His budding Quidditch career as a second-string seeker had filled him out quite nicely, and his eyes had been charmed, thus ridding him once and for all of those wretched glasses of his. Even at a distance Lucius could see the young man's dress robes straining slightly against his frame, and each subtle movement and shift of the dark fabric gave Lucius a delightful show.

It took a moment for Lucius to realize that he was staring down Harry Potter of all people. He shook his head minutely, swallowing his mortification at this realization behind a neutral mask. Had he been caught in the act, Lucius was quite certain he'd never live it down.

Still...

His son approached Potter, and he felt rather embarrassed at the flash of jealousy that shot through him as the younger Malfoy brushed Potter's forearm with his hand. He forced himself to look away and towards the dance floor, but his eyes still strayed to the pair, and the clearly forced smile Potter offered his son before he swept away again to rejoin the young Astoria Greengrass.

On it went.

Lucius nursed drink after drink, punctuating it with food and sobering potion to keep himself from getting too drunk and thus embarrassing not just himself but the name of Malfoy quite spectacularly.

His eyes were never far from Potter, who looked more and more uncomfortable as the evening progressed. Weasley and the mudblood wandered over to him on occasion, the latter nursing glasses of water and holding herself in such a manner that led Lucius to the assumption that she was with child.

Lucius wrinkled his nose. He knew better than to comment on such things in polite society—especially these days, but it still did not fail to disgust him that a pureblooded family, even blood traitors like the Weasleys, would lower themselves to willingly mix their blood with one such as her.

The couple seemed much more interested in dancing and sneaking off to Merlin knows where to sully his home than to talk with his friend, and were quick to leave Potter alone to be approached by a line of hopefuls, only to be turned away each time. Lucius was amazed at Potter's apparently limitless patience, as the boy had yet to hex, curse, or otherwise jinx any of the girls who approached him—even the more persistent ones who seemed incapable of comprehending the word no.

The night pressed on, and Lucius could not deny that it would be quite interesting to test his luck with the boy. The loss of his lady wife a year earlier had left his bed quite cold, and a young man, Lucius thought, might be just the thing to warm it again.

Lucius did not immediately approach Potter. He needed to plan out his would-be attack to ensure his success. Of the few young men that approached him, while Potter showed a vague interest, it seemed as though the boy might be a virgin (or otherwise very inexperienced) if his stuttering, awkward responses to their advances were anything to go by.

Lucius tapped one of the nearby waiters on the arm and he spun to face Lucius at once.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Bring Mr Potter a glass of wine—the fairy red—if you would be so kind,” Lucius said, smirking inwardly at the look of surprise on the young man's face. “He looks like he could use it, don't you agree?”

“Erm, of course Mr Malfoy,” the waiter said awkwardly, “shall I inform him of whom sent it over?”

“Please do,” Lucius replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. If nothing else, Potter's reaction to receiving a drink from Lucius Malfoy would be highly entertaining.

“Yes sir,” he said, and Disapparated.

Lucius looked away from Potter to the bar, where he watched the barman pour the deep red liquid into a crystal wineglass. He placed it on a small silver platter, which the waiter lift it carefully, Disapparated once more, and reappeared next to Potter.

Potter jumped at the waiter's sudden appearance, and leant in to mutter in Potter's ear, then nodded in Lucius's direction. The gobsmacked look upon the young man's face almost made him laugh, and he instead lifted his own glass of wine towards Potter in a silent toast.

He accepted the drink, apparently self-conscious about holding it when everyone around him were either sporting bottles of butterbeer or glasses of firewhisky. Lucius chuckled when he saw Potter flick his wand at the glass, apparently checking for curses or poisons before he seemed satisfied that it was safe and brought it to his lips. Lucius watched him sip it, and chuckled softly when he saw the look of surprise that crossed the young man's face when he seemed to realize how much he liked it.

Potter finished the wine perhaps a little too quickly and set the glass aside, which disappeared the moment he'd set it down, and was quick to grab a bottle of butterbeer, though he did little more than hold onto it. The action gave Lucius the impression that Potter was doing everything he could to keep from standing out.

Not that he could do very much about that.

Lucius watched his son approach Potter again, it quite clear to him now that Draco was not, in fact, flirting with Potter, but checking up on him. The forced smile was obviously a smile of reassurance; Potter was reassuring his son that he was indeed having a good time, in spite of the fact that he'd been steadily consuming drink after drink all evening, and hadn't moved towards the dance floor once.

There was a certain dance Lucius would be delighted to engage Potter in, there was merely the challenge of getting the boy there that posed a certain level of difficulty, especially considering their colourful past.

His cock stirred at the image of Potter, all tan skin and dark hair sprawled across his white linens. Yes, that was certainly a better way to spend an evening than hanging about on the edge of this celebration only to watch his son attempt to woo Miss Greengrass. If her positive responses to his advances were anything to go by, it would not be long before he'd be a grandfather.

Lucius shook his head minutely; now was most certainly not the time to think on such familial matters. Lucius knew now was the time, before Potter decided to call it a night and he lost his chance.

Lucius strode casually across the expanse of the ballroom, pausing occasionally to add more realism to his casual gait. It would not do to be seen making a beeline straight for Potter.

“You have not moved from this spot all evening,” Lucius remarked as he at last sidled up to the young man, “and you instead seem intent on making some kind of dent in the ridiculous amount of drink my son has purchased for the evening.” He had moved covertly enough that his appearance caused Potter to jump slightly before he turned sharply to see who it was. He seemed caught somewhere between relaxing at the sight of his friend's father, and staying on his guard because of who he was—not simply his friend's father, but also an ex-Death Eater and former Slytherin.

“Er, these events aren't exactly my thing,” Potter replied at last, his tone low and awkward. Any softer, and his response would have been lost amidst the music and low babble that filled the space. “I'm only here 'cause Draco threatened to hex me if I didn't come. He's too busy trying to fu—er, he's too busy with Astoria to keep me company, anyway.”

“Well, his loss appears to be my gain,” Lucius purred, and his smirk widened ever so slightly at the look of surprise that crossed Potter's face. Draco had often complained about Potter being as observant as a gobstone, but the implication behind Lucius's words seemed to be read loud and clear with him. Lucius watched as the intent behind his words seemed to click in his mind, and Potter's cheeks flushed an attractive red.

“Um...” Potter began, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazed at Lucius, apparently at a loss for what to say.

“Perhaps,” Lucius began, reaching out and closing his fingers around the neck of the bottle Potter held, his fingers idly brushing across the back of the young man's hand, “I might entertain you more satisfyingly than your long line of...fans.” Lucius cast a glance over to a group of young women, all of whom had attempted to woo Potter at one point or another over the course of the evening. They were casting dark looks at Lucius, while Draco seemed to have caught sight of them together, the look of utter bewilderment upon his son's face a far cry from his usual aloof nature.

“I—er, I never know what to say when people approach me like that,” Potter mumbled, allowing Lucius to pry the warm bottle from his hand without much resistance and set it aside.

“It is likely that they are attracted to your fame—the idea of you, rather than the young man that you are,” Lucius said, feeling the faintest twinge of guilt at the hurt look that crossed Potter's features at his words. “I cannot say I fall into that category myself,” he continued, keeping his voice smooth and level, “I am rather attracted to the...handsome shape you have grown into, rather than your social standing.”

“I'm sure it doesn't hurt for you to associate with Harry Chosen-One Potter either,” Potter said, his tone wary, but curious.

“No,” Lucius agreed with a short nod of his head, “it certainly doesn't hurt.”

Lucius had intended to progress straight to coming up with an excuse to escort Potter to his bedroom, but he found himself rather surprised and how much he was enjoying the young man's company. Potter was a far cry from the obstinate brat he'd been during his formative years, and had grown into a thoughtful young man, one who seemed at a loss for how to move past his dealings with the Dark Lord.

“I mean,” Potter said as Lucius summoned a fresh, chilled butterbeer for him, “I thought I wanted to be an Auror, save the day, you know...but...After Voldemort, I dunno, I just want some peace. Be a shrubber, farm daisies, I don't care, just something...peaceful. Instead I'm filling my free time with Quidditch, and I've got Hermione chastising me for not completing my N.E.W.T.s...people who are supposed to be my friends—my family keep trying to tell me what I should do with my life, my inheritance, everything. I'm just so tired of people trying to run my life for me.”

“And what does Famous Harry Potter wish to do with his life, now that he is free of the Dark Lord?” Lucius asked, taking a chance and reached out to brush his hand across the back of Potter's, and was both surprised and pleased when the young man did not pull away.

“That is the question, isn't it?” Potter asked with a laugh, though if Lucius was not mistaken, there was distinct bitterness to the sound.

“Perhaps more simply,” Lucius clarified, “what do you wish to do right this moment?” Lucius prompted, arching a brow. The implication, most unfortunately, seemed to go right over the young man's head.

“Erm, getting out of here might be a good start,” Potter said, “but I dunno how long I should hang around so that Draco doesn't think I hated it. He put a lot of work into tonight.”

“That he did,” Lucius agreed, “however, I would say four hours of wallflowering is quite enough, and I do not believe he would fault you for leaving.” Lucius hid his alarm under a neutral mask; if Potter was so keen to leave, how on earth would he coax the young man into his bedroom?

Dismissing the worry for the moment, Lucius trailed his fingertips up Potter's delightfully toned arm to his shoulder and rested his hand there. He did not miss the faint tremor that ran through the young man under his touch.

“Come, I shall walk you out.”

“Er, okay,” he said, a clear conflicted look crossing his features—curiosity, suspicion, and the faintest spark of arousal.

Perhaps Potter wasn't quite as dense as he had been led to believe.

Potter stopped long enough to bid a goodbye to his friends, then rejoined Lucius, who was happy to escort him out; the task made sweeter by the mixed looks of shock and minor disgust he saw upon the faces of those Potter considered to be his friends. Draco's expression was perhaps the most entertaining of them all as it read quite clearly, Father, don't you dare.

Given the opportunity, Lucius most assuredly would dare.

In the passageway, Potter paused and glanced left and right, a blank look crossing his face.

“Are you lost, Potter?” Lucius asked, arching a brow once more, and struggled to keep a smirk of amusement from his face when the boy once more turned an attractive shade of red.

“No, I just...I left my things in Draco's room, but your house is so big I sometimes get turned around...” he trailed off, the latter part of his explanation little more than a mumble, and Lucius chuckled softly.

“Clearly, someone should have taken to the task of giving you a grand tour, to save you from further embarrassment,” Lucius said, a plan beginning to form in his mind. It was risky, to be sure, but if successful, would lead to a more than satisfying evening for both of them.

“Come,” Lucius said, repeating the word from earlier, and casually rested his hand upon the back of Potter's neck. Potter started slightly at the contact, but he did not protest it, which came as something of a surprise.

Lucius led Potter through the hall, to the antechamber, and up a curved mahogany staircase. He pushed his luck by brushing his thumb across Potter's pulse point lightly, and if he was not mistaken, he was certain that he heard Potter gasp, though not from fright.

By some stoke of luck, or ingenious house construction on the behalf of his forebears, both his private chambers and Draco's stood behind identical doors, and they were so close together it was not uncommon for wayward guests to mix the two up. If Potter's attention to detail was anything to go by, he would not know the difference.

He released his hold on Potter as they stopped before the doors to his private chambers. The young man stepped forward and let himself in through the ornate double-doors, but only got a handful of steps into the space before he stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that it was not, in fact, Draco's room.

The fireplace burst to life the moment Potter had crossed the threshold, and the scant few lamps around the chamber ignited at once, casting the room in a soft, attractive glow.

Lucius leant against the door's frame to watch him. His confusion shifted to shock, then incredulity. He turned around and stared at Lucius for a long moment before he spoke.

“What do you want from me?” Potter finally asked, the wariness in his tone certainly not unfounded given his history with this house, though it was somewhat disappointing.

“You,” Lucius answered simply, and his mouth twitched into a small smirk when Potter once again went rather red. “You have grown into a handsome young man, one I would delight in tasting for myself. I was informed by my son that you share the same desire as myself for a hard body gracing your bed in lieu of something soft and supple. Of course, I would not force you by any means, but I am certain I can offer you a taste of what you crave.”

“And you think I want...I mean, how would...this,” he waved a hand significantly between them, “help me? You get what you want, but how on earth did you come to the conclusion that I'd want...er...you?”

Lucius pushed himself off the door's frame, but left it open for the time being. He strode up to Potter, and the young man's breath caught as he stopped before him, and Lucius reached out to cradle his jaw in his palm. He leant in and pressed his lips lightly against Potter's.

Lucius was a confident man, and he knew what he excelled at—and how to exploit it. His kisses were well-practised, and had the desired effect he'd hoped for. Potter went rigid, clearly shocked at Lucius's brazen actions. He ignored this as he proceeded to deepen the kiss, capturing the lad's bottom lip between his own and gave it a short tug before he parted his lips slightly and descended upon Potter once more. Potter shivered, and at last reciprocated, his uncertain hands reaching forward to thread through the front of Lucius's velvet robes, and a soft, contented sigh escaped Potter as he inched forward ever so slightly.

The door to his rooms gently swung shut of their own volition, softly enough to not jar Potter from the daze Lucius's kiss had caused, and when he at last pulled back, it took Potter several seconds to come back to himself.

“What...I...what...” he said, blinking several times. His face was still a little red, though Lucius suspected that it was not from embarrassment. A heavy hand was still resting upon the young man's shoulder, and Lucius moved it to brush along the edge of Potter's pronounced jaw.

“This can be no more or less than you desire,” Lucius murmured, “but I believe it may be a blessed reprieve from the demands of those you refer to as your friends.” The hand trailed down Potter's front, and paused just above the waistband of she sheepskin trousers he wore. He heard Potter's sharp intake of breath, and he levelled his gaze with the young man's jewel-bright eyes. They were clouded and conflicted, and Lucius could not hold back the faint smile when he saw the moment Potter chose to throw caution into the wind as he all but threw himself forward to kiss Lucius once more.

Their kiss this time was sloppy, demanding, and dizzying in its passion. Lucius was quick to lead Potter to his bed, stripping the young man quickly, and by the time his impressively toned, pert bottom hit the silk duvet he was completely devoid of clothing, and Lucius licked his lips at the delectable sight before him. The robes he'd been wearing had indeed left little to the imagination, but even so, the young man upon his bed was a delicious sight to behold, and Lucius took several long moments to study every curve and line of his young, hard body.

Potter seemed to be made of nothing but lean, corded muscle. His skin was tan, a shade or two darker than it had been in the past, and unless Lucius was very much mistaken, he had taken to some form of self-grooming, as his body and pubic hair were both trimmed neatly.

Potter looked on to Lucius nervously, his face flushed, though Lucius was uncertain whether it was strictly arousal, or paired with nervousness. His eyes carried a what the hell am I doing look to them, and became more pronounced as Lucius approached him, flicking open the top button of his black and silver robes. He stripped off the outer layer and draped it across a chair as he approached the naked youth upon his bed. It was quite clear that Potter was at least marginally interested, but then Lucius could recall that it had not taken much to pique his own sexual interest at age twenty-one either, and as a result did not put a great amount of stock in Potter's bodily reactions.

At the bedside, dressed now in his black trousers and white shirt, he unbuttoned the top garment slowly, and Potter looked on with a flushed, hungry look upon his face. Lucius shrugged out of the garment and slipped out of his trousers and silk undergarments, then crawled onto the bed to join Potter. He had been quite right, and Potter did look excellent upon his sheets, and it gave him an even stronger desire to ravish the young man.

Potter's eyes had been fixed upon Lucius's cock, a fact that he found highly amusing and arousing simultaneously. It had been a very long time since he'd been looked at with such hunger. He wondered, not for the first time whether Potter was a virgin or not. Deflowering The Chosen One would be a great pleasure, especially if the gossip magazines got wind of such a thing—not that Lucius was the kind of man to let such things slip.

Lucius drew Potter's attention back to him by kissing him again while he pressed one of his knees between the young man's parted thighs. Potter's breath hitched as Lucius pressed it fast against his erection while Potter reached up, apparently uncertain where to rest his hands, and dug his nails into Lucius's shoulders as he pressed his thigh more firmly against Potter's cock, creating a delightful friction for him.

As he drew back, he smirked at the hooded expression that Potter wore, and Lucius was certain that Potter was unlikely to balk and back out at this point. Lucius gathered Potter's wrists in his hand and pinned them above his head; Potter squirmed experimentally, but did not protest being held down.

“Do you trust me?” Lucius purred.

“No,” Potter replied at once, though he was smiling. Lucius could not help but chuckle at that.

“Fair enough,” he replied, and gathered up his wand and muttered a quick, “incarcerous,” and watched as Potter's breath hitched, his wrists suddenly bound by thin leather cord in place of Lucius's hand.

“Wh-what're you—” Potter began, his voice edged with panic, but Lucius silenced him with a kiss.

“Relax Potter,” He murmured against his mouth. “Though you may find it hard to believe, I will not hurt you. Let go. Close your eyes and give yourself over to pleasure. I promise that you won't regret it.”

Potter eyed him nervously, and he squirmed experimentally in the bindings. Lucius sat back a little, the fingertips of his left hand trailing up and down his chest while he waited for Potter to come to a decision. His reputation preceded him in nearly every social circle these days, but he had never been in the practice of forcing one's hand—sexually. There was a fine line between seduction and coercion, and though Lucius skirted that line often, he had yet to cross it. At last, Potter nodded his head, and Lucius watched as Potter's eyes slid shut.

Lucius's first desire at this admission of tenuous trust was to flip the boy over and have his way with him, but he stopped short at the second idea that slithered into his mind.

He braced his knees on either side of Potter's hips, and starting at his jaw, he brushed his lips across the sweet flesh, not quite in a kiss, then trailed his mouth down the young man's front, causing him to whine and squirm beneath him, desperate for some kind of actual contact.

Lucius closed his teeth around Potter's right nipple, not hard enough to hurt, and tugged gently upon it. Potter groaned and arched his back into the contact, while he fidgeted, clearly longing to reach out and touch Lucius in kind.

Lucius released the flushed nub, then circled it with his tongue before closing his mouth over it again, suckling softly, and eliciting another delicious groan from the young man beneath him.

Lucius released it at last, and made his way to the other nipple, and repeated the attentions while Potter continued to whimper and squirm beneath him.

Lucius pressed his open palm against Potter's hard abdomen, trailed it down, and stopped just short of his leaking cock.

“What do you want, Potter?” He asked softly.

“Y-you,” Potter replied with a stutter, clearly struggling to form a coherent thought. He squirmed again, and tugged feebly at the bindings. “I—I want you to fuck me, and I want to hear you call me Harry.”

“Hmm, so demanding,” Lucius purred as he trailed back up Potter's form to trace his lips with his tongue before Potter opened his mouth and leant up, his tongue poking out as he reached for Lucius. He indulged the boy with a rather messy kiss. “...Harry,” he murmured against his damp mouth as he broke the kiss, and Potter—Harry moaned out loud.

Lucius sat back up and took his wand from the bedside table, and flicked it at Harry, casting two spells in quick succession. The first released his wrists, and they sprang apart the moment the rope disappeared. The second was a cleansing spell, which he neglected to warn Harry about before he cast it, and the young man hissed his surprise. He set back down his wand, not bothering to explain what he'd done, and dug unto the drawer of his night stand for his jar of lubricant.

He pressed the jar into Harry's hands just as the young man opened his eyes, and his gaze flitted from the jar in his hand to Lucius with confusion.

“I want you to prepare yourself for me Harry,” Lucius explained as he leant back a little while his mouth stretched into a smirk, “give me a show.”

“Um, okay,” he said a little nervously, and unscrewed the jar's lid. He dipped two fingers into the slick salve, and with his bottom lip caught between his teeth he arranged himself against the pillows at the head of the bed, and spread his legs wide. Lucius reclined at the end of the bed, never taking his eyes off the young man, idly stroking himself while he watched.

Harry's fingers slid into his hole easily—so easily in fact, that Lucius had a feeling that this was not the first time that Harry had done this to himself. Face flushed, clearly unused to being watched while he fingered himself, he locked gazes with Lucius, while his fingers slid all the way in, then all the way out.

“Add a third finger,” Lucius commanded, and Harry went a little pink. He obeyed, while Lucius tensed his hand around his own cock to stave off orgasm. The sight of Harry's hole swallowing those lithe fingers was almost too much for him to take. He knew that Harry was more than adequately prepared at this point, but he felt incapable of looking away from the delicious sight of Harry fingering himself. His breathing was shallow, he'd broken his gaze with Lucius as he arched his back, and let out a feeble groan as he continued, now apparently uncaring that he had an audience.

No longer content to simply watch, Lucius crawled forward and rested a hand over Harry's wrist, stilling his movements. Harry's eyes flicked open and his gaze locked with Lucius's as he took the lubricant from Harry, and applied it liberally to himself. He then rested Harry's legs around his hips, and slid into his velvet heat smoothly.

Harry's ankles locked at the small of Lucius's back as he let out a stuttering moan of approval, his fingers clenching the duvet tightly. Lucius began to move at once, uncaring that he might be handling the young man a little more roughly than he should have. His cool, dignified Malfoy mask had slipped away in favour of relishing the sweet sensation of the young man that surrounded him, clenching down on his cock so deliciously, and responded to Lucius's every move with sweet, youthful enthusiasm.

Sweat dotted Lucius's his skin and caused his hair to cling to his chest and back, and Harry below him was faring no better, his skin shining in the low light, while his breath escaped him in rough gasps as he struggled to follow Lucius's brutal pace.

Lucius's orgasm came upon him suddenly, and his body went rigid as he filled Harry's hole with his hot seed. Gasping, he continued to move as though he'd yet to reach orgasm, and reached down to pump Harry's sweet cock, bringing him to climax before falling down bodily next to his young lover, panting heavily.

Harry was quick to burrow himself into Lucius's arms after he'd slipped his softening cock from his pert arse, which was both a surprising development—as well as an endearing one. In hindsight, Lucius thought that he should have known that Harry would be a post-coital snuggler, but all the same, to seek out comfort following such rough, spontaneous sex was surprising nonetheless.

“That was...incredible,” Harry breathed, his warm breath tickling across Lucius's damp chest. He looked up at Lucius uncertainly, and he responded by threading his fingers through the young man's thick mop of hair.

“It certainly made a nice change, having such an enthusiastic lover in my bed,” Lucius replied with a soft chuckle, and Harry responded with a grin.

“Is that some sort of Malfoy way of saying I wasn't too bad?” He asked, and Lucius smirked, responding by leaning down and kissing his young partner.

“Decidedly no,” Lucius replied, and Harry laughed softly, getting settled as Lucius cast a quick charm to clean them up, then shifted long enough to draw the blanket over them.

“I was really dreading this party,” Harry said in a soft but conversational tone as he shifted to get comfortable, “I haven't been much for crowds the last few years, but I gotta say...it turned out better than I was expecting.”

“Hmm,” Lucius intoned thoughtfully, “if I recall, my son did mention something about planning a New Year's Eve party...” Lucius trailed off, and his words were met with a grin.

-Fin
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The Twelve Days of Smutmas