A/N: Hello friends! Idk how this little story happened but alas here it is. This won't be like my normal WIP's; I'll just be writing short little chapters as the muse strikes but I hope they'll be fun and smutastic and without any angst to keep you guessing.
Content Warnings: Multi-relationship, NO INCEST, Some D/S, praise kink, rough sex, dirty talk, A LOT OF OF SMUT very minimal plot.
xXx
Hermione sat on the edge of the massive bed with her hands tucked underneath her legs. Silk had never felt so uncomfortable in all her life. The innocuous gift box had arrived in her chambers earlier that morning—when she was still Hermione Granger—and her lip had curled for no reason at all. A beautiful ivory silk negligee that went down to her ankles and a matching robe.
She wasn't ready. Of all the ways she imagined her wedding night, it wasn't like this. Two husbands. One surname. One house.
From beyond her chamber doors, she heard feet padding down on hall. A shiver skittered across her skin. It'd been decided it wouldn't be Draco on the wedding night—Lucius had insisted during negotiations that he have her first. Maybe it was better this way. There was such a sordid history with Draco, it was complex and tangled and now against all odds—he was her husband. One of them.
Because she had two.
The door handle turned and she sucked in a quick breath, rushing to her feet and smoothing her palms down the fabric on her thighs.
In an aristocratic sweep, Lucius entered, ignoring her presence as he made his way to the drink cart and set down his cane. He was barefoot, she noticed. "Would you like a drink—" he paused then, turning over his shoulder with an arched brow. "Darling?"
She ought not to, but at this point, she'd do anything to calm the thrashing of her heart. "Yes, please—but I can do without the endearments."
"What shall I call you then?" he asked, returning his attention to the drink cart. Even with his face downturned, she could see the way his cheek lifted into a smirk. "Wife?"
As he poured amber liquid into crystal tumblers, she took a moment to study her new husband. He was broader than Draco, his shoulders wide and strong, yet still tapering into a trim waist. The shirt must have been his undershirt because it was thin linen; she could make out the lines in his back.
"I have to say," he continued while turning and offering her a glass, "I am as surprised by this as anyone. Though I don't think I'm quite as unhappy as you are."
The firewhisky burned down her throat as she swallowed a large drink. "What makes you think I'm unhappy?"
His eyes tightened on her as he drained his drink and set it aside. With a slow, predatory step, he crossed the space between them, looming over her. If he noticed the way her hands trembled, he didn't mention it. When her drink was gone, he took it and vanished it with a wave of his hand.
Lucius' silver stare dragged over her features and down the column of her neck. As he stood transfixed on her chest, she felt a hot blush bloom and crawl over her skin. Merlin, she couldn't bloody breathe.
This was her life—he was her husband. She'd had other options when the law made its way through the Wizengamot, but the Malfoy's offered her something no one else could.
Money.
If someone had told her five years ago she'd marry for money, she'd had never believed them.
But in the years following the war her parents had unforeseen issues with the Obliviation. They lost more and more of their memories. Soon, they'd lost the ability to practice Dentistry.
Her Gringott's account dwindled and dwindled as she paid for healers and curse breakers and international portkey's to Australia for the lot. Her measly Ministry salary barely covered enough for her to survive, nevermind the medical bills kept coming in.
So, she'd turned down Ron's proposal. And Harry's. And Neville's. She'd considered Cormac—he boasted a brilliant Quidditch career, after all—but it still wouldn't be enough to take care of her parents.
And she'd accepted a rather odd proposal from the Malfoy's. Plural. Narcissa had passed from a neglected illness shortly after the war and they found themselves without a Lady of the Manor. Now they had one.
Hermione forced her gaze on his face, she wasn't a victim; she'd chosen this and knew that consummation and pregnancy were requirements of her. Sex didn't have to be emotional. It'd been transactional for centuries and could be here as well. Tilting her chin higher, she steeled her resolve.
His fingers pulled the tie of her robe free and the silk fell apart, revealing the negligee beneath. Her nipples pebbled under the cool fabric and Lucius' eyes narrowed as he stared down at her.
There was certainly no tremble to his hands as he pushed robe from her shoulders, letting it pool at their feet. Lifting a finger, he settled it on the hollow of her throat. So slowly she thought she might combust, he dragged said finger down her sternum stopping only as it fell to the valley between her breasts.
"You're beautiful." The praise whispered over her skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh. With a smirk, he moved, stepping around her in a tight circle. It'd be nice if he'd bloody get on with it but she suspected this was part of the thrill for him. He'd paid for his bride; he wanted to enjoy her.
From behind her, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest and one arm curled around her ribs. He palmed her breast and her breath hitched, a familiar tingle between her thighs. His free hand curled around her hip, tugging her flush against him and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her bum.
Sweeping the curls from her shoulders, he planted a kiss to her shoulder, and then to the nape of her neck. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you accepted, pet. I've wanted to make you mine for some time and now—" The hand on her hip fell away. "You are. Turn around."
Hermione obliged, eyes rounding.
"Undress me." His voice was low and husky and it did something sinful at the apex of her thighs.
Swallowing around the knot in her throat, she tugged his shirt from his trousers and then off his body. His chest was thick and covered with a smattering of silver hair. And her gaze caught on the inky Dark Mark on his arm. Peeking up at him, she found him smirking, a single brow arched high.
"Does it scare you?"
With a snort, she gently rolled her eyes. "Not even a little bit."
His hands found her hips as she slipped the button of his trousers free. There was no other fabric between them, he'd foregone pants, and his erection sprang free.
As she pushed them from his hips, his hands slid to her bum, digging his fingertips into her arse. Stepping from his trousers, he reached down and lifted her gingerly in his arms and walked to the mattress. Laying her down with a strange reverence.
He took the base of his cock in his hand and pumped himself slowly as he stared down at her. There was no longer a trace of silver in his gaze; his eyes were the shade of midnight.
A grin spread over his features and the hand on his cock fell away and grabbed the hem of her nightie. He slowly peeled it up, fingertips grazing along her skin and thigh until her knickers were revealed.
"Pretty," he said as he curled his hand around her mound, fingers pressing against her entrance.
A small noise slipped past her lips and she squirmed. "I want you as my wife, Hermione. If I'd wanted a whore, I'd have bought one—could have bought you. But I didn't—do you know why?" His hand moved, sliding down her knickers and toying with her hard clit.
She was embarrassed to be so turned on by him but her body was responding to him more than she'd ever expected. A whimper worked its way from her chest and she fisted the duvet to keep from moving. "No."
"Because I want you." He pressed a finger inside her and she moaned. "As does my son. Love is irrelevant but I expect you to behave as a loving wife. Do you understand?" Another finger pressed inside her and she gasped as he dragged them in and out of her in long lazy strokes.
"Yes," she choked out, back arching off the mattress.
"You're ours." His two fingers withdrew, rubbing her slick across her folds and if she were of sound mind she'd be mortified but she only wanted more.
"Yours."
"Touch me." He thrust his fingers back inside of her, this time with a rhythm that edged her higher. Releasing the duvet, she shot her hand out to wrap around the thick of him in time with his ministrations between her legs. "Kiss me."
Her heart fluttered wildly and in her lust-driven haze she propped up one elbow and kissed his erection.
"More," he commanded, threading his hands in her curls with one hand and slapping her cunt with the other before pressing back inside her. She cried out, unexpected pleasure rippling from her sex.
She took him in her mouth, wetting him with her tongue as he pressed deeper between her lips. "You're so perfect like this." His hand twisted in her hair and he pulled her off him. "I will fuck this smart mouth properly as soon as I'm able."
He didn't relent between her thighs and she felt the familiar coil of her orgasm wind deep in her belly. Rocking his palm against her, he growled as she clenched down on him, pure pleasure coursing through her limbs.
"Good girl." His praise washed over her and she fell back against the mattress heaving hard breaths. Absently she was aware of the dip of the mattress and him settling between her now parted thighs. His cock nudged her entrance and her eyes shot open. "I am going to fuck you in every way, in every room, at every given opportunity." Snapping his hips forward, he filled her with a single thrust and she cried out, throwing her arm over her face.
A hollow laugh mixed with a moan rumbled from above her and he began driving into her with abandon. She couldn't make sense of the sensation of him inside her; it was overwhelmingly too much and simultaneously nowhere near enough.
He sat tall, resting on his haunches as he continued thrusting in and out of her. He gripped the silk at her collar and tore it away, exposing her breasts to his black stare.
One hand assaulted her nipple, twisting and tugging , the other slid between them and rubbed mercilessly on her sensitive clit in a delicious combination that again pushed her towards another orgasm.
"That's it, pet. Come for me." He slapped her clit again and she obeyed, mouth falling open in a silent cry. With a feral growl, he quickened his pace, hands digging into her hips to keep her still. Wisps of platinum hair worked free of the tie that held it in place, fanning around his face as his features steeled. When he came, his head fell back, exposing the long, elegant column of his throat and a faded tattoo made up of magical symbols and numbers. Branded in Azkaban. Hermione found herself desperate to kiss just there.
Lucius withdrew from her and crawled to the center of the bed, ticking his chin for her to join. Hermione Granger—Malfoy— was anything but a submissive witch but there was a timber of Lucius' voice mixed with this sinful desire for her one-time enemy that made her obey.
Strangely enough, he tucked her into his side and caught his breath. "I'll have you again tonight so I'll stay here, but you can expect to come to my chambers on my nights with you."
"Okay," she said lamely, unsure what to say to this new husband of hers.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
What kind of person was she if she said she enjoyed herself while under contractual obligation to consummate with a man twenty years her senior. She remained firm in her earlier reasonings: sex didn't have to be emotional; it could be transactional. But she allowed herself a small amendment—it could also be pleasurable.
This was her life. This was her husband. She'd be sleeping with him for the foreseeable future and she was allowed to enjoy that. She was allowed to like it.
Propping up on her elbow, she stared at him curiously. Husband. Simply because she wanted to, she leaned forward and kissed him for the first time. He stilled at the contact as though he hadn't just been inside her. She didn't relent though, instead kissing him more firmly until his lips moved under hers. His hand moved to cradle the base of her skull and her tongue darted out to taste the curve of his bottom lip.
When she pulled back, she let out a long sigh and laid her head on her chest. If Lucius Malfoy wanted a wife in exchange for providing for her and her family, then a wife he would get.
Her thoughts ran errant to the other Malfoy in the Manor and what kind of wife he'd be expecting.
xXx
A/N: This will be short snippets of mostly smut with some romance and plot! I'll update as the muse strikes and I need some smut breaks haha
Again this is unbeta'd so please forgive any errors. Thank you for reading!
LK