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Irresistible	By : Anath Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 16646 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Irresistible
- 1
Title: Irresistible
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Summary: Another "Draco's first time" story; Lucius makes sure Draco will always be Daddy's little boy...
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M/M slash, incest, chanslash, references to femmeslash, BDSM and prostitution
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-4
Disclaimer: These characters are J.K. Rowling's; I just like to pretend they're mine. She gets the profits, I have all the fun, and that suits both the Malfoys and me just fine.

[Lucius' POV]
Since his birth, my son Draco has been the most important being in my life; his first sweet, heart-melting smile was for me alone. I remember the moment perfectly - his luminous grey eyes wide with wonder, the gentle innocence and trust as his baby hand wound softly around my index finger. His very first tentative steps were towards me, his arms outstretched as he called out his first ever word, "Daddy!" I was almost dizzy with the beauty of that moment, sweeping Draco up in my embrace, hearing him giggle delightedly as I swung him around and around, holding him tight to my chest until we were both giddy and breathless with the pleasure of it all.

His mother loves him too, but mostly from afar, preferring to shower Draco with gifts and praise his cleverness than to spend time with our child for the sheer joy of it, as I do. Her affections are mostly reserved for the variety of lovely ladies she seduces at society balls and parties, bringing them home to her own elegant suite of private rooms in the hours before dawn. I used to find it both amusing and arousing to hide in a secret alcove in my wife's bedroom, and watch Narcissa deliciously entangled with her lovers - unless, of course, I was carnally occupied myself (I would most likely be either bending Severus Snape over the massive mahogany desk with brass fittings in my study and fucking him senseless, or chained to my own four-poster bed by Walden Macnair so he could flog me until I screamed in anguished bliss, frightening every portrait and house-elf at Malfoy Manor out of their wits).

But as Draco grew from an infant into a child, I became more and more drawn to his company than that of my paramours. He is just so perfect in every way, a prince among his peers; more intelligent, beautiful and graceful than any boy I have ever seen. He vastly prefers being with me to associating with children his own age, and emulates my dignified demeanour when we venture out in public.

Although I must appear reserved and even stern towards Draco before the rest of the world - a Malfoy never displays the softer emotions in front of outsiders - when we are alone together my love for him knows no bounds. To have him sit soft and warm on my lap while I read him stories, or to practice Quidditch on our broomsticks, climbing high in the air above the Manor's vast grounds (already skilled at catching the Snitch, Draco has all the makings of an excellent Seeker) - these are more joyous experiences than entertaining any number of lovers. I adore my son more profoundly than anybody I have ever known sexually. On occasion, Draco has even shared my bed, mostly when he has woken up sobbing from a nightmare or when he simply feels lonesome and in need of comfort. Holding my blond angel in my arms, kissing his sweet little face, telling him that I love him, that I always will be here for him and everything will be all right - these are the most precious moments of my life.

This year has been the most difficult ever for me, as four months ago Draco went away to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to begin his studies. For the past few weeks my moods have been bleak and desolate, the only happy times being when an owl flies in with a letter from Draco. I attempt to bury myself in my work, trying to stem the flow of depression that clouds my days and nights, drowning my soul like a dark river. When work fails to focus my thoughts away from Draco's absence, I resort to more intense and drastic means to help me bear my sorrow. I begin to pay clandestine visits to Knockturn Alley and the more disreputable parts of Hogsmeade, seeking out unusual and expensive brothels where wealthy wizards such as I can purchase forbidden pleasures. I spend hundreds of gold Galleons on the company of very young boys (or more likely, adult wizard prostitutes using Polyjuice or some other potion to appear as youngsters - I swear, one such brat I had in Hogsmeade reminded me strongly of Remus Lupin, one of a gang of Gryffindors who had plagued me, along with my fellow Slytherins, at school). At first, I merely take them onto my knee and cradle them closely, crooning tenderly, kissing their foreheads and whispering my son's name. But soon such mildness no longer suffices to console me, and I begin to strip them bare and fuck them hard, sobbing and screaming for Draco as I pound into their tight bodies. So many days and nights without him... I count each one carefully until Christmastime, when Draco will be home for the holidays - a short period of joy in all this hellish emptiness.

From the minute Draco arrives back at the Manor via a Portkey, I am astounded at how he has changed. Although he is still every inch my darling little boy, childish in body and affectionate towards me, he seems less innocent and more worldly than before he went away, sensual in his movements and affecting the manner of someone much older than he. Draco addresses me as "Father" in front of others now, though I am gladdened that he still calls me "Daddy" when I bathe him and tuck him into bed. Yes, my son still allows this, but for how long? Soon he may decide that he is too old for baths with Daddy and goodnight kisses. Brooding darkly, I imagine a future of Draco becoming more and more emotionally distant from me as he grows into an adolescent and then an adult. I see myself usurped as the centre of his world by some beautiful girl, or perhaps some handsome youth. My blood seems to turn to ice, my hands shake and I seethe with rage at the notion of somebody else possessing my Draco. Jealousy scalds me, and I realise in shock that I have fallen in love with my own son. I want him to stay with me forever and to be mine always.

I know that it is madness to feel like this. It is wrong and sinful in the eyes of the world, but to me it seems so wonderful, perfect and right. On this glorious Christmas Eve, when the house is alight with living fairies, floating candles and gleaming chandeliers of finest crystal, and enormous piles of gaudily wrapped presents, most of them labelled with Draco's name, surround our magnificent Christmas tree, I take a bath with my son, putting loads of his favourite lavender-perfumed bubble-bath into the water; the opulent marble bathroom echoes with his peals of joyful laughter as he watches multitudes of non-bursting, mauve-tinted bubbles rise from the water and float everywhere. After bathing, I dry him carefully, wait patiently while he cleans his teeth, and then carry him into my bedchamber, intending to dress him for bed, read him a story and then take him back to his room so he can sleep, or more likely lie awake and await Christmas morning, too excited to slumber. But as I seat him on my lap, the heady warmth of our naked bodies touching tempts me to take a moment and look at my adorable Draco. His skin is so deliciously, flawlessly pale and smooth, his hair silvery blond just like my own, his nipples dusky pink and the same shade as the delicate flesh around his cock and ball sac. The faintest white down is starting to appear between his legs, though he remains hairless everywhere else save his head. His young member has lengthened since last I bathed him before he went away to school; he will be very well endowed, just like his father, when he is a man. I shiver with excitement as I picture a nude, fully-grown Draco - so gloriously handsome, muscular yet slim, his form mirroring mine... but he is also delectable at the age he is right now. He reaches up to caress my long blond tresses, and smiles sweetly at me.

"May I stay here with you tonight, Daddy?" he asks, and snuggles closer. By Merlin, this boy is so enticing, so luscious, so warm and so near... before I realise what has happened, my cock has swollen to full erection. I reach over to get Draco's nightshirt, saying, "Of course you may, Draco..." My intention is to dress him and tuck him beneath my ebony satin bedspread, but instead I find myself stretching towards the nightstand and picking up my wand; before I can stop myself I pronounce a lubrication spell, lift my son's slender hips above my massive arousal, thrust upwards into his tightly clenched channel and impale him on my aching, needing hardness.

Draco utters a sharp cry; his little arms wind around my neck and he holds onto me as I penetrate him deeper and deeper with each stroke. He is so beautifully tight, more exquisite than anyone I have had before... being inside Draco is like slipping into hot, wet silk. This is perfection, this union of father and son, this merging with the one I worship and adore more than life. I cannot get enough of him, moving frantically within him as I cover his lips with mine, parting them and seeking out his little tongue with my own as he whimpers into my mouth. I am so mad with desire that I cannot keep thrusting much longer. My body is becoming slick with sweat as I approach the most mind-blowing climax I have ever felt; like flame it consumes me, pulling me into a vortex of rapture as I pour my seed into the angelic sweetness of my irresistible little boy. Carefully I withdraw from his ass and catch him as he falls, limply and breathlessly, against my damp chest.

As soon as my heart begins to beat more slowly, I am suddenly wracked with remorse. This is not some boy-whore I have just fucked, but my own darling son, my precious, beloved Draco, the Malfoy heir. Have I hurt him, torn his tender entrance? Have I, Lucius Malfoy, his father and protector, violated the trust my child has placed in me, defiling his innocence in an insane moment of lust? Will he, who so passionately loved me before, turn away from me in hatred? Have I lost him now, forever?

I have not wept in ages, but hot tears are beginning to spill down my cheeks as I look upon my son and whisper, my voice trembling, "Oh, Draco... what have I done to you?"

A dainty little hand rises up and brushes the teardrops from my face; I look into the eyes of my darling child, and my heart leaps when I see that they are filled with a new awareness, a new tenderness and more devotion than ever before.

"You've been loving me, Daddy," Draco whispers raptly, spreading his legs and pressing his very hard little cock against me. He takes one of my hands and guides it gently towards his bottom, so that I am caressing his cleft with my fingers as he expectantly begs me, "More?"

"Anything for you, my love," I tell him, and reach for the wand to perform a charm to renew my erection. It takes all my strength of will not to scream my triumph from the rooftop of Malfoy Manor. What I have done was right, and so perfect for us both. On this night, this most wonderful Christmas ever, I have ensured that my beloved Draco will always belong to me, and I to him.

~ Fin.
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Irresistible