Chapter 15: "A man's perspective on things"
2017: The Malfoy's bedroom, just after Hermione has left to meet Luna's
Lucius walked slowly back up the stairs, to their room, intent upon taking a shower and indulging a little personal time. Lying back on the mussed bed, he crossed his arms behind his head and relaxed, simply thinking. As he took stock of his life and future prospects, he found himself experiencing an odd mix of emotions. He was rather content with his present existence; he had a beautiful, young wife who was quite passionate, his son and he were in the process of reconciliation, and he enjoyed his work.
Upon review, he thought that, indeed, he should be content, because a man could truly not ask for much more without tempting the fates. However, his conclusion did not help him decipher his slight feeling of being unsettled, and unsettled he was. It wasn't an unsettled feeling as though he was being watched, or someone was plotting his demise – he was rather used to that. No, it was more of a bone-deep unsettled, where he was rather unsure that anything in his life was completely permanent.
Now, Lucius would never admit to being unsure about anything, so he was more than happy to get back out of bed, prepare for the day ahead, and forget all about his wandering emotions. He certainly wasn't a man to dwell, and in fact, due to that wonderful manhood, he tended to follow the emotionally ignorant tendencies of his greater sex.
Lucius nodded to himself at this conclusion and pulled his clothes off, readying for the day ahead. He rather enjoyed being in the nude, and so anyone with the temerity to enter his home, and then room, uninvited would be granted the magnificent sight of Lucius Malfoy making the bed, nude. Now, generally this would be considered a rather mundane chore for the Lord of the Manor to be doing, but the Malfoy patriarch rather relished doing this one chore. He found it rather calming and simple, enjoying how the silk sheets slithered into place, their soft sounds reminding him of sensual nights and the heat of lust; how the pillows could be fluffed and placed just so, clearing the disarray caused by nightly (or mid-nightly or morning or afternoon) activity; and how once the mother-of-pearl colored, down duvet had been reordered, the mahogany four poster bed looked, once again, like the perfect place to sate one's inner desires.
And despite all those wonderful reasons, he also rather enjoyed the feel of Hermione's eyes as she would watch him make it, standing in the bathroom doorway, rivulets of water cascading down her dewy skin after her shower. His marble skin gleaming in the morning light that filtered in through the windows; his thick leg muscles clenching and straining as he leant to straighten out a bump; or his buttocks flexing, showing off a firm derriere that she enjoyed clenching, as he would bend and stand replacing pillows and blankets that had been shoved off in the heat of the night. His upper body would ripple as he pulled and tugged the bed linens into their rightful place, his biceps flexing, back muscles creating a dance of their own beneath his smooth skin.
And generally, she would drop her towel to the floor as his back was turned, saunter up behind him, her dewy arms encircling his waist, and pull her front flush against the muscled planes of his back. Her hands would trace their way up the ridges of his abs to his rather sensitive nipples, which she would pinch and twist, all the while licking siren like paths along his back and neck. He would be able to feel her damp skin against his, the droplets dripping from her hair tracing sensual paths down her back and skin, flushed from the hot shower. She would feel his ass clench and unclench as he fought the waves of arousal shooting to his quickly hardening length.
He would wait until she was just ready to pull away, and then he would turn quickly. He'd snatch her up, and toss her onto the neatly made bed. He would follow, crawling up her body, letting his long hair trail against her skin, exciting her as it always did. Then his tongue would dart out and lick one of her straining rosy nipples, perhaps he would nibble on it or perhaps simply tease until she was a pool of whimpers and moans beneath him. His fingers would be tracing naughty paths just shy of her pleading, pouting lower lips, the essence of her desire making her adoration clear.
His wicked fingers would slowly, slowly flit their way to her sex, touching with butterfly caresses her most responsive areas. Slightly probing to ensure her readiness, he would often take her lips with his in a claiming kiss that ensured she knew beyond all doubt who she belonged to. Then he would rise up and thrust into her wet, tight warmth that always felt like heaven. Relishing the feel of being inside his beautiful, sensual wife, he would thrust slowly, ensuring she felt every blessed inch of him as he entered and withdrew. Often she would groan and try to hurry his thrusts by arching her own hips, or teasing his sensitive nipples, but it was generally to no avail. Lucius wanted to make sure she knew she was him, and that she would remember it throughout the day as the young pups she worked with drooled and pranced around her, trying to gain her attention.
With that thought, Lucius withdrew from his memory, looking at the well-made bed with a crooked smile. He wondered how many more days he would have with his vivacious wife, how many more hours would she consent to stay his once everything was out in the open. She had delayed for so long, could she ever truly be able to admit that she had gone against everything she was taught and married a man that represented everything she once loathed? Could she handle the potential hatred that her friends might hurl at her when the news broke? Or would she break in turn, and flee from their comfortable, and dare he say loving, home? He shook his head, determined not to his voice to his uncomfortably insecure thoughts. He glanced down and groaned, realizing that perhaps it was time to take a shower and take himself in hand, literally. Sometimes an imagination could be crueler than many believed.