A fictional account of how my poem White as Snow, Black as Night came into being...
I, of course, don't own Lucius Malfoy, that honor goes to JK Rowling... Lucky her...
She sat in her chair, covering her face with her hands in frustration. No matter how hard she tried, the words would not come. No one had asked her to write the poem, of course, it had been a self inflicted burden. But something about the character of her subject begged something a little more elegant than her usual 3 page venting of her sexual frustrations.
"You'll never get anything done like that," a cold voice said from behind her, making her turn quickly in her chair and stand to her feet. She barely had time to take in the platinum hair and silvery grey eyes before the snake head of his cane hooked onto her shoulder and tugged her toward him. She swallowed as one of his hands moved up to trace an elegant finger along her jaw, the other still holding the cane, now resting against her throat.
"Lucius Malfoy…" she whispered, looking up into the handsome, cruel face that had haunted her imagination. Her eyes drifted closed as his free hand moved up into her hair, curling through it gently before wrenching her head back with a sharp pull. "Why are you-"
"Here? My dear, I'm rather offended… You seem to be having a bit of trouble, so I have come to help you with a little… inspiration, if you will." His mocking smile widened as he dragged the fangs on his snake head cane down her exposed throat, hooking them into the hem of the black tank top that covered her top. With an abrupt downward thrust, he'd torn down the front of it, partially exposing her to his sight.
"Stop it! What makes you so certain I want your help?" she countered, struggling a little to pull out of his grasp. Lucius chuckled; he hadn't expected much of a fight, and was pleasantly surprised. He rested his cane against the door frame and slipped his now free hand inside her torn shirt, cupping and kneading the soft flesh of her breast slowly. His smile became triumphant when she responded, eyes closing and her mouth falling open in a silent moan.
"I admire your… audacity, my dear girl, it certainly becomes one who would write me poetry… but you are still a woman, and fall prey to the weaknesses that come to the fairer sex," he explained as he let her go, picking up his cane again. He directed her attention to the computer again, motioning her to sit. "Write. Or I leave you to satisfy yourself in a less adequate manner than I might." He conjured a black velvet armchair that he sat quite close to her computer chair, and remained behind her as she turned back to the keyboard.
Darkness envelopes like a cloak of death
Can make even the bravest think twice.
Confident to a fault, gloating with every breath,
Beautiful evil, cold as ice.
"Gloating? Is that really how you think of me?" he asked with a dark smile, trailing open mouthed kisses down her shoulder. He looked up to see that she'd stopped and was watching him, he placed the head of his cane against her jaw, gently pushing her head over to face the screen once more. "Write," he whispered, his free hand reaching around to move over her stomach under the ruined tank top.
Who could resist such a one?
Seduces all to his side with a single glance.
In the end, when all is said and done,
His enemy falls to their knees, never had a chance.
Hands trembling as she typed, she tried desperately to ignore the feeling of growing heat in her black mesh pants, made worse as his hand moved up her stomach to tease a nipple into hardness. A loud cry escaped her lips as he suddenly pinched down hard on the newly formed peak, twisting a little as he went. He chuckled darkly against her ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down her spine. His mouth descended to her neck, teeth biting down roughly against her skin, adding to the myriad of sensations flowing through her body. There would surely be marks there in the morning.
Silver eyes, platinum hair,
The Dark Lord's slippery friend.
Kneeling to his indomitable flair,
Hope will meet its end.
"Indomitable flair, I like that," he whispered approvingly, his hand drifting down to slip beneath her pants to press against her core. He allowed her to throw her head back for a moment, watching her face contort in pleasure. "Write," he hissed, pausing in his probing until she reached for the keyboard again. She could feel the tremors in his body as his arms pressed around her; he wanted her to finish quickly, so he could get what he wanted as well.
Yet I cannot fear him, I cannot not shrink,
Though others may cower in a fright,
A mere brush of the hand sends me to the brink,
Skin white as snow, heart black as night.
Her hands lowered as she arched up into him, barely able to think coherently any longer. She cried out a protest as he pulled his hand away from her entirely, silencing as she felt the cold metal of his cane on her shoulder, the fangs tearing her skin a little and leaving bloody trails.
"Is it finished?" She'd known he would ask that, known he was as impatient and ready as she was. She could barely answer with a nod before the cane bit into her shoulder even harder as Lucius tugged the chair around to face him. He grabbed onto her roughly, swirling black smoke engulfing them for a moment before she felt the softness of her mattress against her now bare skin. She could feel the warmth of his body pressing down on hers, the hardness of him resting at her hip. His hand thrust into her heat, two fingers pushing within her for a moment, then moving back up to linger at his lips, giving him a moment to taste her. It barely registered with her that she had no idea what had happened to her clothing when he'd moved them to her bed, but at that moment, she only was grateful that there were no more obstacles between their bodies… Now if he would only stop his teasing…
He paused briefly, to take in her pleading expression before he thrust into her almost violently. She cried out as he filled her, each deep, punishing thrust sending her to heights she'd not known before. One hand moved up to catch her wrists, pinning them down above her head, while the other held one of her breasts to his lips, his teeth scraping against her sensitive skin as he suckled roughly. Rather than take away from the pleasure, the pain enhanced it, sending her screaming over the edge. He sped up, moving to look down into her face.
"Say my name next time… I want to hear it…" he growled, grabbing her hair roughly to make her look at him. She nodded her assent, and then his mouth was on hers. It could hardly be called a kiss; it was more about possession than caring. But then, the whole situation was about possession, and she didn't care that she'd been caught in his web of seduction. He moved even faster in her, rough moans escaping him as he threw his head back. His flowing hair framed his face, and, combined with his expression of ecstasy, he was even more intoxicating to look at to her than usual; so much so that she found herself on the brink once more. The hand at her wrist tightened, as did the one that was roughly palming her breast, as she tightened around him again, her body tensing and beginning to shake almost uncontrollably. His silvery eyes locked with hers, a warning behind the lustful gaze, promising an end to her enjoyment should she not do as he'd directed her.
"L-Lucius!" she screamed hoarsely, her hips slamming up against his as he thrust one final time into her. His loud shout of completion sent shivers down her already quaking body; his power, his masculinity was on full display, and she could hardly take it all in. She collapsed back on the bed, darkness swimming before her eyes. She felt him next to her for a moment, the emptiness inside her where he wasn't. His hand trailed over her stomach toward her core, beginning the delicious building within her again. It was too much for her, though, too much pleasure for one sitting, and the darkness enshrouded her even as she sobbed with ecstasy, clinging to his shoulders, his dark laughter ringing in her ears.
The next morning, she awoke, fully clothed in her bed. Her body was sore, and she was still more than a little tired, but she attributed it to the dream she'd had… for it certainly couldn't have been real. She blinked blearily at her computer screen, noticing the over sized post it note stuck to it. She sat in her chair to read it, eyes widening as she read the fine script.
I made some adjustments to the last section of your poem. I hope to see you again soon, for a
repeat performance of last night. I expect you to dress in something more easily removed next time.
And don't defy me again. I was lenient, because I knew you would be a good distraction, but if you try
to fight me again, the pain will outweigh the pleasure, I promise you.
Regards,
Lucius Malfoy
Hands trembling as she lowered the note, her eyes scanned the screen, reading her words and his in her poem. She wasn't a poet, and she was certain she'd never written anything so good, and wasn't likely to again without the proper inspiration… Without him.
Darkness envelopes like a cloak of death
Can make even the bravest think twice.
Confident to a fault, gloating with every breath,
Beautiful evil, cold as ice.
Who could resist such a one?
Seduces all to his side with a single glance.
In the end, when all is said and done,
His enemy falls to their knees, never had a chance.
Silver eyes, platinum hair,
The Dark Lord's slippery friend.
Kneeling to his indomitable flair,
Hope will meet its end.
I dare not defy him, to his will mine is bent,
Yet I cannot fear him, I cannot not shrink,
When he approaches, all protests he will circumvent,
A mere brush of the hand sends me to the brink.
To try to resist is futile; I know I cannot win.
Though others may cower in fright,
He cannot be denied, he is my sin.
Skin white as snow, heart black as night.
Ok, people, read and review! I enjoy getting reviews, so, tell me what you think of it! I'm not really planning on a second chapter, but I could probably be persuaded to let Lucius from his cage to play a little more. Also, be sure to recommend the poem itself, titled in its own story as White as Snow, Black as Night to your friends who might not be interested in the smut, but might like the poem.