A/N: Abraxas and Voldemort's time is interrupted by a visitor. slash Abraxas/Voldemort. smut (Warning: sexual content) This is unrelated to the other drabble in this collection. Lucius is about fifteen to seventeen. I do not own Harry Potter.
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Tongues travel over skin in what can only be described as decadence. Or maybe it's torture, Abraxas cannot decide, but it must be pure sin for something wrong to feel right. There's something unbelievable but arousing in how two men who never show weakness to the outside world are willing to show it to the other behind closed doors. In the privacy of the bedroom, the world melts away and it is just the two of them, their fast breathing, their frantic moans and the pleasurable spasms that rack their bodies as they inch closer and closer to their climax.
The pale man is spent and they switch places. Now it's Abraxas' turn, he's the one in control, he's the one who has the Dark Lord, one of the most powerful wizards in the Britain, at his mercy. To the world, he is evil re-incarnate but in this room, he is Abraxas' to toy with, he is Abraxas' to do as he pleases.
The man's mouth opens in a silent scream and Abraxas quickly pulls his head back to capture it with his own while pounding into him, mixing the pleasure with pain, something they've always both enjoyed.
"Father, are you in here?" someone asks from beyond the doorway. Abraxas turns suddenly, his eyes flashing in anger. The boy knows only to interrupt his time for something important that cannot be handled later.
"What!" he roars while pausing in his ministrations, but he can still feel himself twitching within. His breathing is uneven and out of sync with the other man's.
He can practically hear the boy's knees shaking on the other side of the wood. Good, fear will teach him never to come while he is busy. "The Minister is here for lunch," the boy says quickly before footsteps are heard hastily moving away.
Abraxas groans as he pulls out, feeling completely unsatisfied that he was unable to finish. He had forgotten completely about this ridiculous luncheon, but he couldn't cancel. To the outside world, Abraxas Malfoy was a reliable and dependable Ministry figure, not one who associated in debauchery and wrapped up in bedsheets with murderers.
The man moves from beneath and quickly redresses. "I'll let myself out," he says without looking back as he walks towards the fireplace in the bedroom. Abraxas scowls as he makes himself presentable, trying to calm himself down by thinking of their next time together. Though unsaid, there's always a next time.