The Malfoy's were the best actors the world could see. Family seemingly perfect. Their only flaw was a lack of one. Their only mistake was their only flaw. But there wasn't a flaw. Or a mistake. That was something sewn into Draco's very essence. No mistake. No flaw. No imperfection. To disgrace thy family was to disgrace thy self. To disgrace thy family was to disgrace thy father.
This moral code was beaten into his flesh. Quite literally. He never cowered or avoided his own torture, though, when he probably could hide away. He didn't want to anymore.
The simplest sentence his father could ever muster had been muttered to him when he had been 6 years of age. The words had a severe effect. His father had said, in a soft monotone, "You are mine." like the boy was a doll, before going to work that day.
And what a willing doll he was. Down on his hands and knees, he caressed his father's erection in fast, heated motions. Just like he was told. He darted his tongue out, licking the tip lightly once before engulfing the thing. Just like he had been told.
And...if it wasn't for the simple fact that his father actually looked at him during sex, he probably wouldn't be here. He was no one's doll. But his father's. Even if he could muster up enough strength to even slightly dislike this game, there was no way Lucius would let Draco go. No way at all.
With one thrust of his hips, Lucius came inside his beautiful son's mouth.
Several hours and a shower later found Narcissa smiling at her husband and her son. Lucius often beat her, as she often did him, so it never failed to surprise her that the father and son were so sweet to each other.