The Emperor: FIC (Lucius/Draco, NC-17)
Welcome to the hp_tarot Potterverse Tarot Fest! The fest will run from now through March 31st with a new fic and a new piece of art every day, all based on prompts from the interpretations of the cards of the Tarot. Today we have fic and art that go together, though most times they will not. (And on some special days we'll have two fics or two pieces of art!)
We begin with:
Title: The Emperor
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Type: Fic
Length: 2991 words
Main character or Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Card: The Emperor
Card Interpretation: "The Emperor always makes the final decision on his own. In control, forceful and ambitious. The Emperor has power--can he avoid corruption?"
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfic.
Warnings: Incest, dubious consent.
Summary: The end is nigh.
Author Notes: Written to accompany the "Emperor" art by pinkelephant42. Beta-read by pinkelephant42 and Miss_Bowtruckle
The Emperor
by Ravenna C. Tan
"The Emperor always makes the final decision on his own. In control, forceful and ambitious. The Emperor has power--can he avoid corruption?"
The voices reach his ears as if they echo off stone, as if he is at the bottom of a well. Arguing. men arguing.
"The Death Eaters are a pack of wild dogs, Lucius."
"I am well aware of that." That is his father's voice, smooth as a hand on his back, lulling him to sleep.
"The boy is depending on you." Draco wonders what boy they are referring to. He knows, somehow, that it is not himself they speak of. "We all are. You must delay..."
"I know perfectly well what I must do." Draco hears the sharpening in that voice, the knives slicing through honey. "It is why I am suited to this role and you are not. You're too soft-hearted, Severus, to truly make the sacrifices necessary."
Draco blinks, but he cannot see anything. That is Professor Snape then, speaking with his father... he feels hands on him then, and cannot tell whose they are. He feels the sting of Lucius' comment almost as sharply as Snape, he imagines. What greater sacrifice than killing his own mentor could be asked?
Snape's voice is pained. "Narcissa's vow is not the only reason I wish to protect him, Lucius."
Draco flails inside his head. Now they are talking about him. The honey is gone, and Lucius' voice slices. "You have your role to play and I have mine. You shall have your diversion and we shall all, finally, have our freedom from a madman. Do not presume I do not know the price I have paid, nor the one yet to come."
Draco feels a hand on his hair; he does not know whose. And then he is lifted up, levitated, and he feels the wind everywhere on his skin. They are outdoors now, and he can hear a rushing sound.
Gravity returns as the charm is lifted, he is lying on the ground... then something hard against his lips. A bottle. He swallows, sputtering slightly.
He looks up into the hooded eyes of Severus Snape, his vision suddenly clear, his awareness sharp. He is naked, one of Snape's hands cradling his head, the other holding a vial.
His father looms over them, his face a mask of disdain, his hair catching the torchlight. They are in a clearing. Draco feels the matted grass under him, the night air buffeting his skin.
And all around them are Death Eaters, a few hundred strong, some carrying torches, all murmuring in low voices. Their ranks go up the side of a hill, all looking down on the trio in the open space below them.
"They're here for your punishment," Snape says softly to Draco. "The Dark Lord ordered it before he... went into seclusion."
The potion has left Draco a bit groggy, but he still catches the pause, the tone. Something is going on. Something Snape and Father are privy to. He knows of Snape's role as double agent, but Father? His eyes dart to Lucius, still looking down on them, his arms now crossed over the front of his black robes, the silver head of his cane shining in the crook of one. "P-Punishment?" he stammers.
Snape, too, glances back at Lucius, questioning. Lucius' voice is cold. "It was decreed. It will be done." And then he waves Snape away, a quick flicker of his black-gloved fingers, and Snape obeys, a last look passing between the two men as Snape Disapparates.
Draco is not prepared for the speed with which his father moves. Before he knows it, that black glove is buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, hauling him to his feet, and Lucius is speaking angrily into his ear.
But the words themselves are not angry. "Our lord has fomented their unrest. They have come to be entertained. They think you are weak and that I will show my own weakness by letting you off easy. We must prove them wrong, my son."
Draco clings to him in an attitude of supplication, as he processes the words. The potion has left him weak, he slips to his knees, and a roar goes up from the crowd.
"They think to have you," Lucius says into his ear. "If the Dark Lord were here, he would no doubt choose a few favourites to be your tormentors. But he has tasked me with this. Neither of us will leave here alive if they are not satisfied that I have done my duty."
"Please, Father," Draco begs. He clutches at the edges of Lucius' robes, for if his own father will not rescue him, who will? "Don't give me to them. I've seen... I know..."
Lucius' voice is soft when he says "Hush," though the slap that follows it is hard, sending Draco sprawling, one hand to the stinging flesh at his cheek. His ears are ringing and he can hardly hear over the cheers of approval that come from the rabble. But he can see Lucius' lips move. "Trust me. This will save us both."
And then Lucius is speaking to the crowd, denouncing Draco for his failings, much the way the Dark Lord himself had done to so many others before him. Draco swoons, the words lose their meaning, but he understands them in a general sense. Now others are challenging Lucius' authority, a pack of wild dogs indeed, and it is as Lucius predicted. They will be satisfied with nothing less than blood.
He feels the spell and his eyes snap open, and there is his father before him, wand in hand, levitating him up onto a platform that had not been there before. Now they are raised above the others, and to Draco the sea of faces that surges around them is like one giant, living thing.
Lucius prods him with the cane and he sees the post, a foot or so taller than Draco himself, with a heavy iron ring set hanging from it. As he gets closer he sees that the ring is in the shape of a snake with two heads, their noses just touching at the bottom of the circle.
"Grasp it," Lucius commands.
When Draco does, his knuckles go white for a moment as the charm takes his hands--he cannot let go, no matter how hard he tries. He struggles reflexively, panic welling up, but then he feels the cane on his shoulder and he stills, just as frightened, but his focus changing now.
The cane disappears as Lucius walks away, and for a moment it is not clear to Draco why. Then he hears the whistle of a whip through the air, just a moment before a line of fire sears his skin, and he cries out. He pulls at the ring, the pain too great to stand still and take. There are whistles and cheers and he presses his eyes to the backs of his hands, trembling in anticipation of the next blow.
Again the whistling sound, and this time the whip cuts across his shoulders, a lashing the likes of which he has never felt before. Tears spring to his eyes, and he wonders how many times he will be struck. The third slash swipes his arsecheeks, making him scream and press against the post, as if he could escape.
His father's words play in his mind. Trust me. This will save us both. He is trembling all over now, wishing there were something he could do to further the plot, the conspiracy that Father and Snape share. But his part is determined, it seems. The words drift back to him from a short time ago. You shall have your diversion.
The jeers are growing louder. As Draco takes blow after blow, his screams are no longer enough. They want more. Draco looks down and sees tiny rivulets of blood running down his legs and he wonders if it is enough to satisfy the bloodlust in the rabble. What if it is not? He can hear them shouting for more.
Then he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to look and there is Lucius, answering a challenge from someone, MacNair maybe. There is a chorus of agreement with the challenger--Draco can hear it in the buzzing voice that the crowd puts forth.
But then the buzzing stops, replaced by a stunned silence. Draco jerks his head around to look at Lucius again, and sees what it is that has silenced them.
The gloves are off and Lucius has opened his robes; he has let them fall from his shoulders. And that is not all. In his hand he holds his manhood, and he is stroking it to hardness. Draco's mouth hangs open, as silenced as the rest of them by what it appears Lucius Malfoy is about to do.
Lucius' bare hand grips him by the hair at the back of his neck, bending him back and bringing a sound of protest out of his throat. Draco feels something, hot and hard, rubbing against the base of his spine. He knows it is his father's cock. He knows it and he trembles. It rubs up and down, making him whimper, knowing what is to come.
Lucius whispers in his ear. "Be sure to scream like it is killing you." And then another word, one Draco does not know, but he feels the coolness inside him for a moment. The lubrication charm. Now Lucius' words make sense.
But then he steps away, and Draco feels something against his leg--the tip of Lucius' cane. The unforgiving wood traces a line up the inside of his thigh, then settles at his arsehole.
"No, please..." he whispers, so quiet, and yet it seems as if every leering face has heard him.
No answer comes but the hand on the small of his back, steadying him, and then he feels the pointed tip entering him.
The cheers from the crowd are ones of approval now.
Lucius' voice is hoarse in Draco's ear. "I am sorry I can not prepare you better. To show any mercy would be..." He need not finish the sentence. He fucks Draco gently with the cane's end, moving it in a circle and causing Draco to cry out--not in pain, but those watching do not know that. They cheer lustily.
"Deeper, deeper!" One of the hags in the front shouts.
Draco cries out, more in surprise than anything else, as he feels the impact of his father's hand against his tailbone, but no pain, no tearing... It is not magic. It is sleight of hand, Lucius' hand gripping the shaft of the cane but only his hand moved...
Draco hears the sound of the cane being thrown down, it clatters, wood on wood, and then he grips the ring tighter than the charm warrants as Lucius runs a hand down his back.
"Fuck him, fuck him!" Several of them are shouting it now.
Lucius silences them with a gesture, and his voice carries magically over the crowd. "This one displeased our lord because he was unable to follow instructions. Shall I see how obedient he is now?"
There is a murmur of approval. They have come to be entertained.
"Let go the ring, Draco," Lucius says, and the charm releases him. He drops his hands to his sides and stands waiting, trembling, sweat mingled with blood trickling drop by drop down his back. He dares not look back now.
The post transforms in front of him. Lucius has transfigured it into something that looks like a wooden horse with a wide bench for a back. A noise of appreciation comes from the crowd.
"Bend over," Lucius says, "And grasp the reins in your teeth."
Draco finds that to reach the loop of leather trailing from the carven head, he must lie lengthwise down the bench, leaving his arse toward his father, of course. Even over the wind and the crowd noise he can hear the wet, rhythmic slicking that Lucius is giving to his cock. Hardening it.
Draco trembles.
"Fuck him!" shouts the hag in the front.
"All in good time," Lucius replies. "Draco," he says, his voice like ice. "Reach back and hold your cheeks wide for me."
He cannot help it. His head jerks back as he protests, but his teeth hold fast to the leather. Tears of humiliation stain his face as he does as he is bid.
"Wider. Stretch yourself, boy."
He digs his fingers into his own flesh, presenting himself as best he can.
He gulps and sobs through his teeth at the first touch of Lucius blunt cock to the sweet pucker of his arsehole. But Lucius is teasing the crowd as much as he is Draco, or maybe himself, rubbing it up and down the spread-open channel between Draco's cheeks until Draco's legs are trembling and the crowd is shouting and chanting for him to consummate this most twisted of couplings.
"Do you doubt me?" Lucius shouts. The responses are mixed.
He grips Draco by the hair, bending his spine further and kicking his feet a few more inches apart. "Do you doubt me?" Lucius thunders again. This time the chorus of "No!" is mixed with a few "No, my lord!"
He shoves in then, and Draco screams, letting go the reins but not the globes of his arse, it burns, it's far too large, and he's never...
"Did you doubt me?" Lucius calls again to the crowd, and their answer is a resounding "Never!"
Lucius pumps his hips, fingers gripping his son and pulling him onto his cock, while Draco cries out almost without realizing it. The sensation of being fucked is so overwhelming, he barely realizes his fingers are still in a deathgrip on his arse. Compared to the tip of the cane, Lucius cock is huge and feels just as hard, moving relentlessly. But it is bearable. As the strokes of the whip were bearable. As the year spent in fear that Lucius or Narcissa would be killed if he failed was bearable.
Snape and Potter are off somewhere right now, Draco realizes, as all the pieces come together in his mind, ridding us of the Dark Lord.
If the only real price he would have to pay was this, he would take that bargain again any day. "F-father..." he says.
"Hush," Lucius answers, driving in now with long, smooth strokes. Draco stiffens with a start as he realizes his cock is responding. His flesh has moulded to accommodate Lucius' bulk, and now there is actual pleasure building inside him. On every thrust now, it is almost as if an invisible hand strokes his cock. He keens, wondering if it is even possible to come from this...
He should have been mortified, horrified. But all he can think is that it is a small price to pay. If Potter succeeds, that is. Lucius' pace quickens and Draco can feel his heart in his throat. Dear God, his father is going to spend himself inside him...!
"Brethren!" Lucius calls out. "Do you know why this taboo exists?"
Every eye in the dell is riveted to Lucius, except Draco's. He can only listen.
"We know the power of blood, of pure blood. But when blood calls to blood..." He leans down and licks the red weals on Draco's back, and the crowd roars. Draco shudders under his tongue. He would have thought it would sting, but it soothes.
It arouses.
And it goes on long enough that Draco knows his father is holding back. Waiting for something. Me?
Then comes a new, but familiar, searing pain. His left forearm. He makes a sound of pain, but Lucius' voice rings out much louder. "When blood calls to blood, there is nothing but power. A greater power than any of you have ever known!"
And Lucius comes. He bellows, slamming Draco back against him, then pulling him upright, hands across his chest, and Draco's own orgasm blossoms out of him like the fiery sensation spreading from his arm.
He looks down to see the Dark Mark burning, smoking as if it were afire and bits of it flaking off and floating away like ash. And then Lucius' wand, as Draco still stands in the circle of his father's arms, as Lucius touches the tip to the Mark on his own arm, speaking words of incantation.
Draco holds his arm up alongside his father's, and watches in fascination as the shape there moves, twists, and reforms, burning all the while, until finally, it settles again. The new shape is smaller, more ornate, and it takes a moment for Draco to realize what it is. A letter 'M,' entwined with ivy and a snake slithering through it.
He sags back against Lucius and feels a kiss fall on his hair, and then Lucius tugs his robe around the two of them. "I hope you can forgive me."
Draco leans his head back against his father. "But they are ours now?"
"Yes. Though not for the reason I gave them." His father's voice is soft in his ear as they look out over the shocked rabble. "That was purely... theatre. Something to hold their attention and convince them I will stop at nothing."
Draco nods. "Then they are ours."
"Yes."
Just one word, but spoken with such passion, such intent, that Draco knows it carries years of planning and layers of emotion. He hears the love, the devotion, the acceptance, and the pride that he has been longing to hear from Lucius' lips for all his life. Draco turns in his father's arms and presses a kiss to his mouth. "Then I forgive you."
"Good. We must hurry now. Potter and Snape will be at their weakest and we must finish the task that old half-blood Tom Riddle started." And Lucius' voice rings out across the hillside, mobilising his followers at last.
-end-
See the accompanying art by pinkelephant42.
We begin with:
Title: The Emperor
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Type: Fic
Length: 2991 words
Main character or Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Card: The Emperor
Card Interpretation: "The Emperor always makes the final decision on his own. In control, forceful and ambitious. The Emperor has power--can he avoid corruption?"
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfic.
Warnings: Incest, dubious consent.
Summary: The end is nigh.
Author Notes: Written to accompany the "Emperor" art by pinkelephant42. Beta-read by pinkelephant42 and Miss_Bowtruckle
The Emperor
by Ravenna C. Tan
"The Emperor always makes the final decision on his own. In control, forceful and ambitious. The Emperor has power--can he avoid corruption?"
The voices reach his ears as if they echo off stone, as if he is at the bottom of a well. Arguing. men arguing.
"The Death Eaters are a pack of wild dogs, Lucius."
"I am well aware of that." That is his father's voice, smooth as a hand on his back, lulling him to sleep.
"The boy is depending on you." Draco wonders what boy they are referring to. He knows, somehow, that it is not himself they speak of. "We all are. You must delay..."
"I know perfectly well what I must do." Draco hears the sharpening in that voice, the knives slicing through honey. "It is why I am suited to this role and you are not. You're too soft-hearted, Severus, to truly make the sacrifices necessary."
Draco blinks, but he cannot see anything. That is Professor Snape then, speaking with his father... he feels hands on him then, and cannot tell whose they are. He feels the sting of Lucius' comment almost as sharply as Snape, he imagines. What greater sacrifice than killing his own mentor could be asked?
Snape's voice is pained. "Narcissa's vow is not the only reason I wish to protect him, Lucius."
Draco flails inside his head. Now they are talking about him. The honey is gone, and Lucius' voice slices. "You have your role to play and I have mine. You shall have your diversion and we shall all, finally, have our freedom from a madman. Do not presume I do not know the price I have paid, nor the one yet to come."
Draco feels a hand on his hair; he does not know whose. And then he is lifted up, levitated, and he feels the wind everywhere on his skin. They are outdoors now, and he can hear a rushing sound.
Gravity returns as the charm is lifted, he is lying on the ground... then something hard against his lips. A bottle. He swallows, sputtering slightly.
He looks up into the hooded eyes of Severus Snape, his vision suddenly clear, his awareness sharp. He is naked, one of Snape's hands cradling his head, the other holding a vial.
His father looms over them, his face a mask of disdain, his hair catching the torchlight. They are in a clearing. Draco feels the matted grass under him, the night air buffeting his skin.
And all around them are Death Eaters, a few hundred strong, some carrying torches, all murmuring in low voices. Their ranks go up the side of a hill, all looking down on the trio in the open space below them.
"They're here for your punishment," Snape says softly to Draco. "The Dark Lord ordered it before he... went into seclusion."
The potion has left Draco a bit groggy, but he still catches the pause, the tone. Something is going on. Something Snape and Father are privy to. He knows of Snape's role as double agent, but Father? His eyes dart to Lucius, still looking down on them, his arms now crossed over the front of his black robes, the silver head of his cane shining in the crook of one. "P-Punishment?" he stammers.
Snape, too, glances back at Lucius, questioning. Lucius' voice is cold. "It was decreed. It will be done." And then he waves Snape away, a quick flicker of his black-gloved fingers, and Snape obeys, a last look passing between the two men as Snape Disapparates.
Draco is not prepared for the speed with which his father moves. Before he knows it, that black glove is buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, hauling him to his feet, and Lucius is speaking angrily into his ear.
But the words themselves are not angry. "Our lord has fomented their unrest. They have come to be entertained. They think you are weak and that I will show my own weakness by letting you off easy. We must prove them wrong, my son."
Draco clings to him in an attitude of supplication, as he processes the words. The potion has left him weak, he slips to his knees, and a roar goes up from the crowd.
"They think to have you," Lucius says into his ear. "If the Dark Lord were here, he would no doubt choose a few favourites to be your tormentors. But he has tasked me with this. Neither of us will leave here alive if they are not satisfied that I have done my duty."
"Please, Father," Draco begs. He clutches at the edges of Lucius' robes, for if his own father will not rescue him, who will? "Don't give me to them. I've seen... I know..."
Lucius' voice is soft when he says "Hush," though the slap that follows it is hard, sending Draco sprawling, one hand to the stinging flesh at his cheek. His ears are ringing and he can hardly hear over the cheers of approval that come from the rabble. But he can see Lucius' lips move. "Trust me. This will save us both."
And then Lucius is speaking to the crowd, denouncing Draco for his failings, much the way the Dark Lord himself had done to so many others before him. Draco swoons, the words lose their meaning, but he understands them in a general sense. Now others are challenging Lucius' authority, a pack of wild dogs indeed, and it is as Lucius predicted. They will be satisfied with nothing less than blood.
He feels the spell and his eyes snap open, and there is his father before him, wand in hand, levitating him up onto a platform that had not been there before. Now they are raised above the others, and to Draco the sea of faces that surges around them is like one giant, living thing.
Lucius prods him with the cane and he sees the post, a foot or so taller than Draco himself, with a heavy iron ring set hanging from it. As he gets closer he sees that the ring is in the shape of a snake with two heads, their noses just touching at the bottom of the circle.
"Grasp it," Lucius commands.
When Draco does, his knuckles go white for a moment as the charm takes his hands--he cannot let go, no matter how hard he tries. He struggles reflexively, panic welling up, but then he feels the cane on his shoulder and he stills, just as frightened, but his focus changing now.
The cane disappears as Lucius walks away, and for a moment it is not clear to Draco why. Then he hears the whistle of a whip through the air, just a moment before a line of fire sears his skin, and he cries out. He pulls at the ring, the pain too great to stand still and take. There are whistles and cheers and he presses his eyes to the backs of his hands, trembling in anticipation of the next blow.
Again the whistling sound, and this time the whip cuts across his shoulders, a lashing the likes of which he has never felt before. Tears spring to his eyes, and he wonders how many times he will be struck. The third slash swipes his arsecheeks, making him scream and press against the post, as if he could escape.
His father's words play in his mind. Trust me. This will save us both. He is trembling all over now, wishing there were something he could do to further the plot, the conspiracy that Father and Snape share. But his part is determined, it seems. The words drift back to him from a short time ago. You shall have your diversion.
The jeers are growing louder. As Draco takes blow after blow, his screams are no longer enough. They want more. Draco looks down and sees tiny rivulets of blood running down his legs and he wonders if it is enough to satisfy the bloodlust in the rabble. What if it is not? He can hear them shouting for more.
Then he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to look and there is Lucius, answering a challenge from someone, MacNair maybe. There is a chorus of agreement with the challenger--Draco can hear it in the buzzing voice that the crowd puts forth.
But then the buzzing stops, replaced by a stunned silence. Draco jerks his head around to look at Lucius again, and sees what it is that has silenced them.
The gloves are off and Lucius has opened his robes; he has let them fall from his shoulders. And that is not all. In his hand he holds his manhood, and he is stroking it to hardness. Draco's mouth hangs open, as silenced as the rest of them by what it appears Lucius Malfoy is about to do.
Lucius' bare hand grips him by the hair at the back of his neck, bending him back and bringing a sound of protest out of his throat. Draco feels something, hot and hard, rubbing against the base of his spine. He knows it is his father's cock. He knows it and he trembles. It rubs up and down, making him whimper, knowing what is to come.
Lucius whispers in his ear. "Be sure to scream like it is killing you." And then another word, one Draco does not know, but he feels the coolness inside him for a moment. The lubrication charm. Now Lucius' words make sense.
But then he steps away, and Draco feels something against his leg--the tip of Lucius' cane. The unforgiving wood traces a line up the inside of his thigh, then settles at his arsehole.
"No, please..." he whispers, so quiet, and yet it seems as if every leering face has heard him.
No answer comes but the hand on the small of his back, steadying him, and then he feels the pointed tip entering him.
The cheers from the crowd are ones of approval now.
Lucius' voice is hoarse in Draco's ear. "I am sorry I can not prepare you better. To show any mercy would be..." He need not finish the sentence. He fucks Draco gently with the cane's end, moving it in a circle and causing Draco to cry out--not in pain, but those watching do not know that. They cheer lustily.
"Deeper, deeper!" One of the hags in the front shouts.
Draco cries out, more in surprise than anything else, as he feels the impact of his father's hand against his tailbone, but no pain, no tearing... It is not magic. It is sleight of hand, Lucius' hand gripping the shaft of the cane but only his hand moved...
Draco hears the sound of the cane being thrown down, it clatters, wood on wood, and then he grips the ring tighter than the charm warrants as Lucius runs a hand down his back.
"Fuck him, fuck him!" Several of them are shouting it now.
Lucius silences them with a gesture, and his voice carries magically over the crowd. "This one displeased our lord because he was unable to follow instructions. Shall I see how obedient he is now?"
There is a murmur of approval. They have come to be entertained.
"Let go the ring, Draco," Lucius says, and the charm releases him. He drops his hands to his sides and stands waiting, trembling, sweat mingled with blood trickling drop by drop down his back. He dares not look back now.
The post transforms in front of him. Lucius has transfigured it into something that looks like a wooden horse with a wide bench for a back. A noise of appreciation comes from the crowd.
"Bend over," Lucius says, "And grasp the reins in your teeth."
Draco finds that to reach the loop of leather trailing from the carven head, he must lie lengthwise down the bench, leaving his arse toward his father, of course. Even over the wind and the crowd noise he can hear the wet, rhythmic slicking that Lucius is giving to his cock. Hardening it.
Draco trembles.
"Fuck him!" shouts the hag in the front.
"All in good time," Lucius replies. "Draco," he says, his voice like ice. "Reach back and hold your cheeks wide for me."
He cannot help it. His head jerks back as he protests, but his teeth hold fast to the leather. Tears of humiliation stain his face as he does as he is bid.
"Wider. Stretch yourself, boy."
He digs his fingers into his own flesh, presenting himself as best he can.
He gulps and sobs through his teeth at the first touch of Lucius blunt cock to the sweet pucker of his arsehole. But Lucius is teasing the crowd as much as he is Draco, or maybe himself, rubbing it up and down the spread-open channel between Draco's cheeks until Draco's legs are trembling and the crowd is shouting and chanting for him to consummate this most twisted of couplings.
"Do you doubt me?" Lucius shouts. The responses are mixed.
He grips Draco by the hair, bending his spine further and kicking his feet a few more inches apart. "Do you doubt me?" Lucius thunders again. This time the chorus of "No!" is mixed with a few "No, my lord!"
He shoves in then, and Draco screams, letting go the reins but not the globes of his arse, it burns, it's far too large, and he's never...
"Did you doubt me?" Lucius calls again to the crowd, and their answer is a resounding "Never!"
Lucius pumps his hips, fingers gripping his son and pulling him onto his cock, while Draco cries out almost without realizing it. The sensation of being fucked is so overwhelming, he barely realizes his fingers are still in a deathgrip on his arse. Compared to the tip of the cane, Lucius cock is huge and feels just as hard, moving relentlessly. But it is bearable. As the strokes of the whip were bearable. As the year spent in fear that Lucius or Narcissa would be killed if he failed was bearable.
Snape and Potter are off somewhere right now, Draco realizes, as all the pieces come together in his mind, ridding us of the Dark Lord.
If the only real price he would have to pay was this, he would take that bargain again any day. "F-father..." he says.
"Hush," Lucius answers, driving in now with long, smooth strokes. Draco stiffens with a start as he realizes his cock is responding. His flesh has moulded to accommodate Lucius' bulk, and now there is actual pleasure building inside him. On every thrust now, it is almost as if an invisible hand strokes his cock. He keens, wondering if it is even possible to come from this...
He should have been mortified, horrified. But all he can think is that it is a small price to pay. If Potter succeeds, that is. Lucius' pace quickens and Draco can feel his heart in his throat. Dear God, his father is going to spend himself inside him...!
"Brethren!" Lucius calls out. "Do you know why this taboo exists?"
Every eye in the dell is riveted to Lucius, except Draco's. He can only listen.
"We know the power of blood, of pure blood. But when blood calls to blood..." He leans down and licks the red weals on Draco's back, and the crowd roars. Draco shudders under his tongue. He would have thought it would sting, but it soothes.
It arouses.
And it goes on long enough that Draco knows his father is holding back. Waiting for something. Me?
Then comes a new, but familiar, searing pain. His left forearm. He makes a sound of pain, but Lucius' voice rings out much louder. "When blood calls to blood, there is nothing but power. A greater power than any of you have ever known!"
And Lucius comes. He bellows, slamming Draco back against him, then pulling him upright, hands across his chest, and Draco's own orgasm blossoms out of him like the fiery sensation spreading from his arm.
He looks down to see the Dark Mark burning, smoking as if it were afire and bits of it flaking off and floating away like ash. And then Lucius' wand, as Draco still stands in the circle of his father's arms, as Lucius touches the tip to the Mark on his own arm, speaking words of incantation.
Draco holds his arm up alongside his father's, and watches in fascination as the shape there moves, twists, and reforms, burning all the while, until finally, it settles again. The new shape is smaller, more ornate, and it takes a moment for Draco to realize what it is. A letter 'M,' entwined with ivy and a snake slithering through it.
He sags back against Lucius and feels a kiss fall on his hair, and then Lucius tugs his robe around the two of them. "I hope you can forgive me."
Draco leans his head back against his father. "But they are ours now?"
"Yes. Though not for the reason I gave them." His father's voice is soft in his ear as they look out over the shocked rabble. "That was purely... theatre. Something to hold their attention and convince them I will stop at nothing."
Draco nods. "Then they are ours."
"Yes."
Just one word, but spoken with such passion, such intent, that Draco knows it carries years of planning and layers of emotion. He hears the love, the devotion, the acceptance, and the pride that he has been longing to hear from Lucius' lips for all his life. Draco turns in his father's arms and presses a kiss to his mouth. "Then I forgive you."
"Good. We must hurry now. Potter and Snape will be at their weakest and we must finish the task that old half-blood Tom Riddle started." And Lucius' voice rings out across the hillside, mobilising his followers at last.
-end-
See the accompanying art by pinkelephant42.