Cowritten with the lovely Mrs. Milfoy!
"Ow!" Hiss.
Mmph. "Sorry!"
"It's alright... Just... There! Oh! Yes!" Mmmmmmm.
"Fuck! Ow!"
"What?"
A rustle of bedclothes. "You scratched my bloody eye!"
More rustling. "I'm sorry, Draco."
Sigh. "Lumos."
A flare of warm light from the sconces, but then immediately: "Nox!"
"Gods damn it, witch!" Growl. "Lumos!" His wand flared to life this time, bright in the blackness, illuminating his frustrated face.
"Nommmmhh!" His hand muffled her mouth.
Kneeling between her pale, raised knees, he spoke tersely. "I'm bleeding done with buggering you in the dark." She was scrambling to pull downy grey duvet over her bare body, one hand still gripping her wand. Draco plucked the instrument before he released her mouth.
"Draco!" She lunged for her wand. He held it over her head, teasing her, enjoying her struggle to keep covered. She grunted with the effort and finally surrendered, scooted dejectedly into the pillows and arranged duvet over her hips.
He followed, preventing her from fully sheathing her nudity. "Narcissa," he whispered. "What's wrong?" He tugged at the duvet.
"Nothing!" She yanked the cover back. Tucked it beneath her arms and attempted again to snatch her wand from his grip.
"Something!" Draco held the wands out even further, this time behind him. He sneaked a kiss when she leaned into his space. She drew back in a huff and he couldn't help smiling. "Tell me what's the matter." He stroked her face gently, lowered his voice to a purr.
His seductive machinations were wasted on his Slytherin mother. "There's nothing the matter," she insisted tightly. "I'd like my wand back, now."
"You may have it back afterwards," Draco stated. He dropped the wands a ways behind him. Nudged them to the edge of the bed with his bare foot until they clattered onto the floor.
Her brow arched high. Nostrils flared. "After what?" She asked.
"After I have my way with you," he whispered, his hands wandering underneath the duvet across her hips. He tugged at it.
Her arms tightened over the fabric. "There shall be noactivity of any sort in this bed until I have my wand back."
"And we're plunged into darkness again." She made no reply other than arching the other brow and Draco grimaced. "Mother -"
"Oh, don't do this!" She shoved her hands over her ears. "Especially if you're going to call me mother."
He reached for her hands. Pulled them from her ears. "Narcissa. I think that you are a beautiful witch -" He raised his voice over her groan. " - more than beautiful, in fact. And I would love to see your face, to see your body when we fuck."
"No!" She shouted almost petulantly and wrenched her hands back from him.
"Why not?" He demanded and tugged at her hands again.
"Do I really have to tell you?" She asked. "Will you truly debase me further by making me explain, Draco?" She clutched the duvet tighter. Stroked the thick fall of hair over one shoulder, attempting to smoothe it. It was a nervous habit.
"Pray tell, Narcissa...how is wanting to see you without clothes on debasing? You let me do whatever I want with your body. Why can't I see it?" He paused. "Arousing," he continued, his voice softening, "is a more appropriate term if anything."
Narcissa stared at him. "Arousing? I assure you it's anything but."
He stared at her. Silently challenging her opinion.
"Look, Draco, I-" she paused. Awkwardly. "Well you see, I mean obviously I'm older than you and things... well...look different." She rambled, not quite meeting his eyes.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Different? Don't tell me you've been hiding a third arm or something."
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Don't be absurd. More like...lines, marks-"
"Scars?" Draco asked. "You never seemed to care about the remnants of Potter's sectumsempra across my chest while you're undressing me. Nor the faded mark on my arm."
Narcissa said nothing but slowly loosened her grip on the duvet. Draco leaned over and kissed her while slowly moving the covers off of her. "I don't know what you are so interested in seeing." she mumbled between kisses.
"I told you," he said. "I want to see you. I want to see your body, your face. The look you have when I enter you. I want to watchyou come."
She tensed when she was bared to the room's warm glow, but couldn't control her body's response to his as it pressed her into the lush bedding, couldn't stop the thrill that raced from her ear to her spine when he spoke his sweet filth to her. "Draco..." The whisper was a warning, a worry and a surrender of sorts. Her hands fluttered uncertainly to his shoulders, lightly pressing.
"Shhhh." He gentled her with his words, but not with his hands. "Not so bad, is it?" He asked, squeezing a breast, staringat it as he brought the fussed mauve nipple to his lips. He sucked. Bit. "So fucking pretty," he murmured. "Your tits wet with my spit."
"Gah!" She cried out when he attacked them. "Oh, gods!" Her eyes slammed shut, head turned to hide her face in a pillow. If I can't see him, perhaps... He was laving a thick, wet trail down the centre of her torso, biting and sucking hard all the way. Leaving Merlin knew what kind of marks. And she knew the light was revealing every imperfection as he went... She whimpered and clenched her eyes til they hurt.
She jolted when his teeth scraped rough over the jut of her pelvic bone. His fingers held her fast by her hips and his mouth - "Look at me."
She couldn't. "Wha - what?"
The next bite could have broken skin. "I said look at me, witch." He snapped over her exclamation.
Reluctant and nearly terrified, she looked down her body to the boy between her bent and shivering thighs. "Draco..." There. Why did he have to look thereof all places? She stared above his head, not wanting to look at him, sure he was revolted by what he had been fucking. She felt him run a finger down her centre and felt her face burn as if someone had cast incendio upon on her.
"Narcissa," she heard him hiss and lowered her eyes down to meet his again. He was still teasing her, still running his finger up and down her wet slit. She waited for him to tell her to grab her wand. To turn off the lights. To admit he was wrong.
"I want you to watch me eat you out," Draco said, looking up at her. Before Narcissa could protest she saw him lower his head and felt his tongue against her clit.
But whatever he may have requested of her, it was difficult to watch anything at all when sensation clenched her eyes closed on principle. "Oh, Dra..." She gasped, tossed her head to the left. A blurry vision of pillow and the sharp, singing sweep of his tongue. Delicately, his thumb and forefinger pinched her clit, as if asking for her attention.
"Good, Cissa?"
"Mmph." She bit her lip. Her eyes stung. She longed for the comforting warmth of darkness.
"Pretty," he whispered against the devious little protrusion. "Swollen like this." He sucked it and she bucked. "And this..." Again, his finger feathered down her slit. "Like a tropical bloom spreading for me." The finger prodded a little deeper and she tensed. "Red inside." He was studying her and she was dying of it. "Looks like it hurts." A firmer stroke. She cried out, but hardly in pain. "Guess it doesn't." And he dove in earnest.
She tried to relax, to focus on the pleasure, to ignore the nagging voice in her head that was repeatedly spewing out insults about herself. She ran her fingers through his hair as he continued to devour her. He stopped.
Narcissa covered her face with her hands. "Draco..." She moaned in frustration. She felt him move on the bed. Peering through her fingers she saw him staring down at her, smirking.
"As delicious as you taste, I wasn't able to enjoy the look on your face," he said as he leaned back onto the bed. He pulled her over until she was laying haphazardly on top of him. "Up you go then," he said, pushing on her shoulders until she was straddling his stomach.
"Wha..." she trailed off, her hands now attempting to cover her bare and exposed body. It really is a shame I don't have a third arm. She felt his hands running on her hips, trailing along the lines on her lower abdomen. She grabbed his wrists, pushing them down until his hands were on her thighs. "Please...don't."
"Why?" he asked.
Narcissa sighed, relaxing her grip on his wrists. "Just please...it's..." She paused "It's just...don't. It's wrong." She felt too aware of his eyes on her, the light on her, the shadows that light created under her breasts. Breasts that hadn't been the same since Draco - the thin, fading lines disappearing just before her ribs.
"Wrong how? You being so uncomfortable about how you look? Wrong you have the faintest of lines on your body? That you're human?"
She swallowed. "Wrong that you're touching the stretch marks you gave me when I was carrying you," she whispered.
His forehead creased. He squinted. She suddenly felt even more observed. His fingers began to trace and she could have melted. Or disappeared. Become one with the mattress beneath them.
"These?" He asked. "These things I would have never noticed if you'd not mentioned them?" He sighed, suddenly realising the true depth to her sea of self-awareness. "Narcissa."
She blinked swiftly, ashamed of the tears that collected in her eyes. Her arms crossed over her chest; hands flattened against his stomach.
He nudged her chin. "Look at me." She did, resigned to having this out. Draco thought a moment before shifting her just slightly backward, her hands splayed across his body in an attempt to balance herself. His erection bobbed between her arse cheeks and he smiled. "Feel that?" At her blush, he gave a thrust. "You wouldn't feel it if you weren't perfection to me."
Her eyes rolled. "Draco -"
"No, we are!" He thrust once more, this time upsetting her balance til he caught her to his chest and his cock brushed her cunt. "Together," he whispered to her. "With my scars. And your marks. Aren't we just perfect together?"
"Perfectly..." she breathed, leaning forward and bracing her hands on his shoulders. She dropped her head to kiss him, not willing to admit his words were having an effect on her. Feeling him tease her cunt with his cock, she deepened the kiss. Teased his mouth with her tongue.
Draco gripped the top of her thighs, trying to persuade her to lean back. To impale herself on him. To let him watch her use him to get herself off.
She needed little encouragement. Despite knowing he watched - saw every inch of imperfection, her desire won out. She couldn't resist the lure of his lust, his firm young form beneath her and his hard hot length inside her. She sank onto him as slowly as she could bear, letting her ache take the healing itch of every vein, ridge and ripple that comprised his cock.
And sensation does make one forget. Her head dropped back, eyes clenched shut. "Oh, Draco..."
The moment was a gasp and a sigh. His fingers flexed on her hips, again urging her - to move, to rise and ride him, to soothe the madness with madness. He stared at the junction of their bodies, face strained. Troubled his lips with teeth and tongue. "That's fucking beautiful," he hissed. "Please, Narcissa."
And power does make one bold. "Please what, darling?" From between moistened twists and tangles of dark-light hair, she took in his urgent expression. He was right. Thatwas fucking beautiful.
He couldn't control his pelvis' urge to thrust. "Please. Ride me, Narcissa." He bent his knees just a bit behind her, gave her the support he knew she would need. They were nothing if not learned lovers, and they'd learned in the dark. So their fluidity, their synchronicity was a bawdy ballet in the light.
Her hands slapped onto his legs and she rose, poised as a gymnast. Fell graceful as a swallow. Then poise collapsed under the regime of eagerness. They groaned together, moved together.
Draco watched wanton unfold on his mother's face for the first time. He saw the way her breasts shook - a subtle jarring of the muscles. The motion intensified exponentially with their pace. He saw a bead of sweat form somewhere within the forest of her hair and sluice down, down until it evaporated and disappeared beneath her collarbone.
But her face... the pain, pleasure and desperate baring of teeth that he knew matched his own. She was a blissful, sinful idol. His head fell into the pillows and he released a cross between a gasp and a chuckle. "This may have been a mistake," he managed.
"What?" The approaching rapture had robbed her of words. She kept moving on him, Barely. Her heart seemed to catch in her throat. Regret. A final admittance of being wrong. Her focus narrowed to the red swatch of completion just out of reach.
He glanced down, saw the slick wetness of his cock flashing into the bright pink of her cunt - the abandoned appearance of the clit he'd suckled earlier. Too much. "I can't last. Not lookingat you." Again, he retreated into the pillows.
But he wouldn't escape his own fate.
His lover leaned over him, braced herself on taut arms by his head and loved his shocked expression. Still moving atop him, she spoke against his lips. "You wanted this. To see me. To watch." She moaned. "So bloody watch." He felt simply marvelous. Fantastic. Shaped to scrape that secret and mystical place hidden within her most perfect toy made just for her. Made by her. As if the womb had known what the witch would one day need.
And she rolled them. Catlike. Agile. A cougar cuffing her cub, she pulled her son's face to hers and kissed him roughly. He whimpered in her mouth and the sound was delicious. Once the roles reversed, so did the intentions. Eyes clenched against the too-fast approaching zenith, Draco could hardly focus on Narcissa. It seemed her turn to focus on him.
He was proof positive his own words were truth: that lust in the light was decadence. Abandonment was beautiful, straining his features. His red lips swollen were magnets for her mouth. His skin gleamed with sweat. He pushed himself up, bent to angle just so - the approach she loved in darkness and now she could see the elegance of it: the dance of muscle inside his arm, the shadowed flexing of his shoulders and the sidewinding pattern of motion down his back.
He was splendid, gracing her thighs like a dancer - and she could tell by the strain on his face he was close. Over the slick sweat on his smooth chest, she caressed the scars that hashed him. Remembered how close she'd once been to losing him. And how close they were now. "Draco," she whispered.
And hand pushed his face to hers. His eyes glinted. "Narcissa," he growled. Her legs embraced his hips, tightened. He groaned and fell flush against her. The snapping of his hips became a grind.
"Oh, that's good." She clutched fingers in his mussed locks. "Watch me come, darling!" And the she felt the pained smile that cracked her face when the frisson of fruition cracked the fault in her abdomen and she quaked beneath him.
"Hell yes," he grunted. He looked hurting, himself. Self-consciousness evaporated in a shared bliss shower, raining on the pair, washing them clean as they exchanged essences - his thick, sticky and irrefutable, hers effervescent, magic and invisible. And through the drama of their shared climax, neither looked away from the other.
Sighing, calming, they stroked each other's faces - took in the revelation on similar features. "Mum," Draco murmured. "That was..."
She kissed him. "Beautiful."