Fic: Draco: Soulless
Title: Soulless
Pairing: Draco, Draco/Astoria, main focus Draco/Scorpius
Rating: R
Warning: crazy, self-harm, incest, light bondage, crossgen
Word count: 1,177
A/N: Mostly unbeta'd. However, the important thing is that this fic is a belated birthday present for icanhaspancake! I was at camp during her birthday, and I was too exhausted during the camp/right after I camp back to do anything. So I've spent the last few days making this for her. SORRY IT IS SO LATE! Love you so muchh though, bb!
It was frigid; Draco pulled his thin blanket about him, wishing the slight fabric could provide him anything but the constant reminder of what he had left behind. His mind, floating anywhere but here, was full of images so painful Draco clutched his chest again.
He heard a scream from down the hall, but did not even look up; it was routine. Before he had left his life at Malfoy Manor, he had only heard stories from Lucius. His father told stories to his mother, never Draco; it hurt more than Draco ever let on. Draco had been determined to eradicate his relationship with his father. It broke what strength he had left when his chances were taken forever.
Narcissa was never the same. Her sister and husband were dead, what was left for her?
Her son, Draco thought with venom. As soon as the words formulated in his mind, he cringed. He wrestled his thoughts away from that dangerous area. Draco hated thinking of his mother; it made the nights longer and the wind colder as it tore holes through his flesh, rattling his bones.
The man stood, retreating from his barred window and curling into a ball on his icy, firm cot in the corner. His head throbbed; the magic imbibed in the walls of the place was at such a magnitude to affect him directly. He supposed that this unnerving attribute contributed to the mad and slightly psychotic reputation of the place. Sighing, he clutched the ragged piece of cloth around his slight frame, wishing for warmth, yet knowing why he could not have it.
Father, please…
Draco twitched roughly, nearly unsettling his cot.
I’m so sorry. Please, just once more, I beg you...
The man in the cell covered his ears, as though attempting to block out the voices. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but he had to try anyway. Nothing could repress his memories of what he had done. His hands shook as they shoved off the thin blanket. He suddenly had no desire to feel warm, or safe. He wanted to feel the reason he was here; his body needed to suffer for what he had done. It was wrong, so wrong. He shook, staggering back towards the barred window, reading a thin, malnourished arm through the bars and out into the air. It was bitterly cold, and the smell of the salty ocean burned his nose. He relished in the pain, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He threw himself against the wall, viciously and suddenly. His brain reeled, but it was too soon before he felt nothing again. His forearm was numb - this would never do. He withdrew it and extended his other arm, throwing himself against the wall again. He gasped - his bones made a dangerous creaking noise. The ominous sound seemed to alert Draco to what he was doing. He slowly pulled his arm back in the window and slid down the freezing stone wall. Cradling his seemingly fractured arm, he glared at the grey walls surrounding him. As the pain ebbed, he was overcome with memories once more.
‘Father, yes, please…more, please Father,’ Scorpius gasped.
Draco watched the scene unfold in his mind, unbidden.
Draco hovered behind his son, biting his lip. His eyes were tightly shut, but his body held nothing back. With each thrust, his conscience teetered closer to the edge; with each thrust, his heart broke a little more. He could not watch himself do this to his son, he would not allow it. The haughty Malfoy genes gave him that little bit of control - the rest of it was melted away. Each inch of perfect pale skin that touched his - each lock of blonde hair that resembled his so intimately - each slight caress - each lingering touch - each meeting of their eyes. All of it was tearing at his resolve.
Draco slammed his head back against the wall. Obviously he had not done well enough to retain his tenacity. No one could do this to him - No, he corrected himself. No one would. No matter what the cost, he would maintain his stature. He would not be reduced to nothingness, and he would not give the reigns to anyone. Not even Astoria. His vision was swimming, but he did not need his eyes to see the picture floating to the forefront of his mind.
Astoria’s lips were red, and her dress was beginning to tear where the straps cut into it. Draco yanked - the woman in front of him whimpered in pain. Draco could never figure why he enjoyed it so much. The more Astoria struggled against her bonds - tied at the neck, wrists, waist and ankles - the harder Draco got.
He threw himself to the ground, his erection rubbing against the floor through his tattered, unruly robes. He thrashed slightly, willing it away. He got nothing out of the effort but a scraped arm and knee. He dragged himself up, glad to be rid of the terrible recollections. As he did so, the door opened.
Draco looked up, suddenly and with an alarmed expression. The chill emanating from the doorway was enough. He knew what came next. His mind, slowing slightly, began to relax. The unbidden images of before rushed to the forefront of his mind again, and he was reliving them as though he were in them. He watched Astoria scream in pain, muffled by the Silencing Spell. He watched his son squirm in pleasure beneath him. As usual, his hardening cock betrayed him. His thoughts were mutinous and vile, but he found them strangely arousing. He shivered, and coughed. Scorpius looked up at him in concern.
It’s alright, Draco told him. His body trembled and he watched as bumps formed on his arm, which stretched in front of Scorpius, fingers encircling his son’s cock. He inwardly cringed at the touch, but the pleasure overwhelmed his sensible side. It’s too late now, Draco thought as his son leant down over him, his breath tracing lines down Draco’s chest. Their faces brushed gently, and Draco’s eyes, so full of despair, matched his son’s for the briefest of moments. His chest felt cold and hollow; resigned he leaned upward, pressing his lips to those of the teenager arching over his body. Their lips connected, and in that moment, Draco felt himself tear in two. His body went completely numb, and he found himself glimpsing Scorpius from above. The scene faded as soon as it was presented to him, and he felt himself flying, but could still feel Scorpius’ body leaning over him. The sensation continued for half a minute, before a painful sensation in his chest caused him to roll to his side in agony. His vision flared for a moment, illuminating Scorpius’ lust stricken pose, lean muscles arching over his father’s rigid form. His eyes were wide and full of terror; the last thing Draco remembered was the horrified face of his son, before he thought of nothing else, and saw only darkness; until he felt no more.
Pairing: Draco, Draco/Astoria, main focus Draco/Scorpius
Rating: R
Warning: crazy, self-harm, incest, light bondage, crossgen
Word count: 1,177
A/N: Mostly unbeta'd. However, the important thing is that this fic is a belated birthday present for icanhaspancake! I was at camp during her birthday, and I was too exhausted during the camp/right after I camp back to do anything. So I've spent the last few days making this for her. SORRY IT IS SO LATE! Love you so muchh though, bb!
It was frigid; Draco pulled his thin blanket about him, wishing the slight fabric could provide him anything but the constant reminder of what he had left behind. His mind, floating anywhere but here, was full of images so painful Draco clutched his chest again.
He heard a scream from down the hall, but did not even look up; it was routine. Before he had left his life at Malfoy Manor, he had only heard stories from Lucius. His father told stories to his mother, never Draco; it hurt more than Draco ever let on. Draco had been determined to eradicate his relationship with his father. It broke what strength he had left when his chances were taken forever.
Narcissa was never the same. Her sister and husband were dead, what was left for her?
Her son, Draco thought with venom. As soon as the words formulated in his mind, he cringed. He wrestled his thoughts away from that dangerous area. Draco hated thinking of his mother; it made the nights longer and the wind colder as it tore holes through his flesh, rattling his bones.
The man stood, retreating from his barred window and curling into a ball on his icy, firm cot in the corner. His head throbbed; the magic imbibed in the walls of the place was at such a magnitude to affect him directly. He supposed that this unnerving attribute contributed to the mad and slightly psychotic reputation of the place. Sighing, he clutched the ragged piece of cloth around his slight frame, wishing for warmth, yet knowing why he could not have it.
Father, please…
Draco twitched roughly, nearly unsettling his cot.
I’m so sorry. Please, just once more, I beg you...
The man in the cell covered his ears, as though attempting to block out the voices. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but he had to try anyway. Nothing could repress his memories of what he had done. His hands shook as they shoved off the thin blanket. He suddenly had no desire to feel warm, or safe. He wanted to feel the reason he was here; his body needed to suffer for what he had done. It was wrong, so wrong. He shook, staggering back towards the barred window, reading a thin, malnourished arm through the bars and out into the air. It was bitterly cold, and the smell of the salty ocean burned his nose. He relished in the pain, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He threw himself against the wall, viciously and suddenly. His brain reeled, but it was too soon before he felt nothing again. His forearm was numb - this would never do. He withdrew it and extended his other arm, throwing himself against the wall again. He gasped - his bones made a dangerous creaking noise. The ominous sound seemed to alert Draco to what he was doing. He slowly pulled his arm back in the window and slid down the freezing stone wall. Cradling his seemingly fractured arm, he glared at the grey walls surrounding him. As the pain ebbed, he was overcome with memories once more.
‘Father, yes, please…more, please Father,’ Scorpius gasped.
Draco watched the scene unfold in his mind, unbidden.
Draco hovered behind his son, biting his lip. His eyes were tightly shut, but his body held nothing back. With each thrust, his conscience teetered closer to the edge; with each thrust, his heart broke a little more. He could not watch himself do this to his son, he would not allow it. The haughty Malfoy genes gave him that little bit of control - the rest of it was melted away. Each inch of perfect pale skin that touched his - each lock of blonde hair that resembled his so intimately - each slight caress - each lingering touch - each meeting of their eyes. All of it was tearing at his resolve.
Draco slammed his head back against the wall. Obviously he had not done well enough to retain his tenacity. No one could do this to him - No, he corrected himself. No one would. No matter what the cost, he would maintain his stature. He would not be reduced to nothingness, and he would not give the reigns to anyone. Not even Astoria. His vision was swimming, but he did not need his eyes to see the picture floating to the forefront of his mind.
Astoria’s lips were red, and her dress was beginning to tear where the straps cut into it. Draco yanked - the woman in front of him whimpered in pain. Draco could never figure why he enjoyed it so much. The more Astoria struggled against her bonds - tied at the neck, wrists, waist and ankles - the harder Draco got.
He threw himself to the ground, his erection rubbing against the floor through his tattered, unruly robes. He thrashed slightly, willing it away. He got nothing out of the effort but a scraped arm and knee. He dragged himself up, glad to be rid of the terrible recollections. As he did so, the door opened.
Draco looked up, suddenly and with an alarmed expression. The chill emanating from the doorway was enough. He knew what came next. His mind, slowing slightly, began to relax. The unbidden images of before rushed to the forefront of his mind again, and he was reliving them as though he were in them. He watched Astoria scream in pain, muffled by the Silencing Spell. He watched his son squirm in pleasure beneath him. As usual, his hardening cock betrayed him. His thoughts were mutinous and vile, but he found them strangely arousing. He shivered, and coughed. Scorpius looked up at him in concern.
It’s alright, Draco told him. His body trembled and he watched as bumps formed on his arm, which stretched in front of Scorpius, fingers encircling his son’s cock. He inwardly cringed at the touch, but the pleasure overwhelmed his sensible side. It’s too late now, Draco thought as his son leant down over him, his breath tracing lines down Draco’s chest. Their faces brushed gently, and Draco’s eyes, so full of despair, matched his son’s for the briefest of moments. His chest felt cold and hollow; resigned he leaned upward, pressing his lips to those of the teenager arching over his body. Their lips connected, and in that moment, Draco felt himself tear in two. His body went completely numb, and he found himself glimpsing Scorpius from above. The scene faded as soon as it was presented to him, and he felt himself flying, but could still feel Scorpius’ body leaning over him. The sensation continued for half a minute, before a painful sensation in his chest caused him to roll to his side in agony. His vision flared for a moment, illuminating Scorpius’ lust stricken pose, lean muscles arching over his father’s rigid form. His eyes were wide and full of terror; the last thing Draco remembered was the horrified face of his son, before he thought of nothing else, and saw only darkness; until he felt no more.