FIC: The Art of Surrender [Percy/Lucius, NC-17]
Since the reversathon Masterlist is out, I'm now able to properly squee over the gorgeous story I received:
Come to Make Me Pay (Lucius/Sirius, NC-17) by comtesse_sin. Which, despite the rating and definite hotness, shines for its complex plot and the breath-taking intricacy of its wizarding world where Lucius struggles to regain his position. So worth reading! (*pokes rfachir* - I have the feeling you might like this in particular...)
Well, and here's my own modest contribution for anneline, with many thanks for an intriguing prompt and for letting me get away with the kink I wanted :).
Title: The Art of Surrender
Author: mrennan_moredon aka Hijja
Pairing(s): Lucius/Percy, Percy/Ron, Lucius/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): incest, non-con, coercion, breathplay, voyeurism, mild toy use
Length: 9000 words
Feedback: so very welcome, including concrit!
Summary: Percy will do anything to make sure that Ron stays alive and safe. Lucius will do anything to make sure that Percy knows how completely Lucius owns both him and his little brother.
Note: Velma Laveela (anneline) requested:
A kinky Lucius/Percy - dubious consent/non-con, exhibitionism/voyeurism, BDSM, or D/s or any combination you feel like.
With warm, loving feelings for lazy_neutrino and hummelchen, for beta and test-reading! And for gehayi who made up the summary :).
As always when Percy Weasley took the long, tree-lined carriageway up to the entrance of Lucius Malfoy's Wiltshire manor, the two pillars framing the double doors looked like harbingers of doom. The classical simplicity of the place made his good work robes appear shabby in comparison, and even his fashionable Moke-skin briefcase - bought with his first six months' wages after starting at Mr Crouch's office - seemed to yellow and fade.
For a man who had always dreamed of living in a decent house, Percy had come to hate his new domicile with a rare passion. Which shouldn't be the case, considering that he had petitioned for, fought over, and finally won permission to assume guardianship over both the manor and its owner.
Dread knotted his belly as he approached the entrance. Again, he'd brought nothing of value to trade. He had even been snarled at by the Minister to keep his 'private pet projects' out of his working hours when Scrimgeour had caught him filling out his weekly sheaf of MLE parchments to document the conduct and deportment of his charge. No, Minister Scrimgeour would have distinctly preferred Lucius Malfoy locked up in Azkaban rather than have him sitting under house arrest in his manor, occupying his office staff, and casting doubt on his tough stance on all things Death Eater. But then, so would Percy.
Malfoy, however, was the only Death Eater Percy had ever met socially. So when he'd received his mother's tear-stained parchment that Ron had been abducted during a lazy afternoon's shopping in Diagon Alley along with a taunting note that the Chosen One's closest companion might in time come to rue that he had ever crossed Potter's path, his thoughts - after a moment of heart-stopping panic - went straight to the man who had been Minister Fudge's personal friend and benefactor, and his own father's outspoken enemy.
Yes, Lucius Malfoy was incarcerated in Azkaban and had certainly earned that honour. But Percy served as junior aide to Minister of Magic, so writing himself a special licence to visit Malfoy in prison was accomplished easily enough. If you projected confidence and occupied a position of power, abusing it was frighteningly simple. Digging up dodgy old St Mungo's testimonies from the first war about the man's vulnerability to Imperius to appeal Malfoy's confinement had proven even simpler.
Apart from the responsibility of supervising Malfoy's house arrest, it had earned him Scrimgeour's ire and the lasting hatred of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, demonstrated yet again this afternoon when Alastor Moody had dropped by at Percy's office, gleefully announcing that he and Kingsley Shacklebolt had visited the manor to make sure "the bastard wasn't up to anything".
So it had been shaping up into a distinctly bad day even before Percy had run into the twins while paying his monthly wages into his Gringotts account. The silence that followed Percy walking around the corner and almost bowling Fred over had been cutting.
"How could you?" George had hissed at last. "Vouch for Malfoy's release after what the Death Eaters did to Ron!"
The urge to explain himself had been gnawing on Percy, at war with the recollection of how he'd had to learn about Ron's fate from his mother's letter days after the fact. Neither his father nor any of his brothers had thought it necessary to inform him, although Percy was placed in the perfect position to help. That still hurt.
"Our little brother is dead, and you're cosying up to Malfoy!" Fred had added, disgust dripping from his voice.
Percy's own voice had been raw like a crow's as he croaked, "Why don't you mind your own business-"
Which was when George's fist landed on his mouth and knocked him right into the wall. Fred had given him a look of pained rage, then dragged his seething twin away. Percy was left to struggle to his feet under the coldly amused gaze of a handful of goblins.
Percy fingered the bruise on his lip and decided that the humiliation was well worth it. Because Ron wasn't dead, and if 'cosying up to Lucius Malfoy' meant that he remained alive, bearing his brothers' hatred was a small price to pay. Not that he wasn't used to that anyway.
Coming back to reality, he realised that his feet had been dragging the closer he came to the entrance, and had come to an instinctive stop before the four flat steps that led up to the twin doors. Even his subconscious, it seemed, was procrastinating to postpone his inevitable encounter with the manor's owner.
He raised his wand to announce himself to the security spells the Ministry had placed around the house, ensuring that the prisoner could not leave without Percy's permission, nor was anyone to enter whom he hadn't personally cleared. Percy knew just as well that the manor's generation-old protective charms would already have announced his approach to their master. His spell had one of the huge bronze doors swing open to admit him. He stepped up and inside.
As always, Percy tried not to be impressed by the height of the hall, the vast marble entrance chamber, and the twin spiral stairs leading to the upper storeys. The door clicked shut behind him, and he remained unmoving until his eyes had made out their target.
Lucius Malfoy was waiting for him, in a floor-length white house robe that looked unsettlingly bridal. Percy threw a nervous glance at the man. The ex-prisoner stood with his head demurely lowered, pale strands of hair streaming over his shoulders. The restraining torque glowed in bright silver around his throat. The torque would render Malfoy docile and powerless as long as Percy didn't take it off him.
After a few endless moments, Malfoy turned to look at him, sharp eyes taking in Percy solitary form, the closed door, to ascertain that he'd come alone. Gathering his courage, Percy walked forward to meet his nemesis. Lucius' gaze brushed him coldly, then the man raised his neck for Percy to inspect. The restraining torque looked raw against the pale skin of Malfoy's throat, although it was spelled not to chafe. Evidently, Shacklebolt and Moody had tested its reliability quite thoroughly today. It was as if the mere thought of being controlled was abrading Malfoy's aristocratic flesh.
"Remove it," Malfoy commanded, his voice ever so slightly raspy.
Percy lifted his wand again. He touched the tip to the collar and spoke the unbinding charm. The sigils on the torque flashed golden for a moment, then went dull. With trembling fingers Percy reached up and unclasped the lock. He pulled the torque off and stood there with the mark of Malfoy's captivity in his hands. Malfoy stared at it, the fingers of one hand touching the base of his throat as if to reassure himself that he was truly free. He froze in mid-move when he realised what he was doing.
Percy hardly registered the step Malfoy took in his direction before Malfoy's back-handed blow sent him sprawling onto the marble floor of the hall. Its sheer force had him skidding several feet along on his robe until he came to lie at the feet of the left-hand spiral staircase. The torque and his wand slipped from his fingers and clattered over the floor in the opposite direction. His cheek was flaming, and his cheekbone felt bruised. At least, Percy thought light-headed from shock, this would mask the welt from George's blow from Malfoy's prying eyes.
Malfoy had followed Percy's sliding form, looming over him like a Lethifold. Percy scrabbled to push himself up onto his elbows on the staircase. The two lowest steps dug into his back, and the horn-rimmed frames of his glasses hung askew. Malfoy stopped right in front of him.
"Your Auror friends decided to drop in today for a bit of fun with the domesticated Dark Wizard," he hissed, and Percy quailed. He'd known this would be coming ever since the moment Moody's scarred grin had appeared round his office door.
Percy managed to pull his glasses off and shove them out of danger when the Death Eater began to undo the lower buttons of his floor-length robe. He was naked underneath, and half-hard already, as if hurting someone provided its very own aphrodisiac. Malfoy reached down to stroke himself, rubbing hard, pinking flesh between a ring of fingers and teasing the slit with his thumbnail. Percy knew better than to look away.
"Cross your hands above your head," Malfoy ordered, and Percy hurried to comply. He suspected Malfoy would enjoy seeing him hesitate, because it gave him reason to go harder on him. Not that obedience guaranteed safety.
Malfoy straddled his chest, and the musky smell of his arousal filled Percy's nose. The wet, half-emerged head of Malfoy's cock lay along Percy's cheek. He turned his head to put his mouth on the man's erection before Malfoy could order him to - sometimes, compliance shortened his torment. Malfoy grabbed his chin.
"Open," he growled, then proceeded to feed Percy his cock.
Percy struggled to relax his throat to the invading flesh, trying not to fight even though Malfoy's weight on his chest compressed his lungs, and the stairs were cutting into his back and neck like dull knives. He busied his tongue along Malfoy's erection, skittering over bumps and veins, and even gave an hasty accommodating swallow when Malfoy thrust forward. It was like being smothered in Malfoy, his throat filled, the strong smell clogging his nostrils, the heavy balls wedged against his chin. The taste of precome clung to the roof of his mouth.
He breathed through his nose in shallow gasps, and tried to keep his lower body from twisting. He could feel the press of Malfoy's thighs along his outstretched arms, encasing him. The Death Eater rutted into his throat, rocking harder, deeper, until colours blossomed before Percy's eyes. He sucked hard, wincing at the obscene slurping noises it produced, and inwardly pleaded with Malfoy to finish before he choked on him. He swallowed painfully although it brought no air, no respite.
Then Malfoy's palm came down on the base of his cock, and slid over Percy's nose in a sealing clasp until his breath was gone altogether. Percy heard Malfoy groan, loud in his ears as his own despairing whimper travelled up the length of Malfoy's cock. He pulled back, just enough to raise Percy's hopes for a rattling lungful of air, then pushed back in, chokingly deep, and the red circles swirled brightly before Percy's eyes.
He couldn't help but struggle now, his nails drawing blood from his palms, feet drumming the marble floor. With every fraying bit of self-control, he forced himself not to uncross his wrists and shove Malfoy off him. He knew the monster sucked half his pleasure out of Percy's helpless flailing. And knew equally well that he would not, could not bite because the consequences would be terrible.
His frantic brain knew he'd survived this before, but Malfoy was so furious. What if he had decided that Percy wasn't useful any longer, would never get him what he wanted? Panic shot through the base of Percy's neck as if it had been touched with a hot iron. He couldn't see anything beyond white pubic hair, but he could imagine Malfoy's eyes, hot and dark with the lure of the ultimate pleasure: ending Percy's life in throes of ecstasy and with the satisfaction that his victim would let it happen without a fight. It would appeal to the very essence of what Malfoy was.
Percy's tongue struggled madly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and into his hair as Malfoy attempted to carve out a place for himself in the cavern of Percy's throat with his cock. The bright red against the insides of his eyelids had dulled to the blackish colour of coagulating blood. Blood roared in his ears as well, louder as his movements grew weaker, his groin tightening in the sheer, agonising hardness of life imperilled.
Surrendering his last wet sigh around Malfoy's cock, he gave in to the spinning pressure inside his head and drowned in the roaring tide of darkness.
***
His throat was raw and dry like sandpaper when he woke. Apart from that, his body was comfortable; silk so cool it felt almost wet was clinging to his sides and chest. Still, his breaths wheezed, longing for humidity.
It took real effort to move, to roll himself onto his back. He knew his surroundings, of course. The carved ebony of the bed frame. The scattering of black and white pillows running together into soft shades of grey before Percy's near-sighted eyes. The sumptuous sheets that crisped back into pristine perfection at a wand's flick. He was naked, but that was to be expected.
Of course it wasn't Malfoy's own bedroom. Percy had seen that when he'd accompanied the Aurors on their final inspection before they left the house - and Malfoy - in his care. It wasn't Percy's own bedroom either, decorated in sparse and elegant blue-greys so different from the loud, oppressive cosiness of the Burrow, or the garish colours of the Gryffindor dormitories, or the austerity of Percy's own tiny flat in Peripher Alley. Malfoy evidently believed that his 'games' did not belong anywhere near his actual living quarters.
Although Percy wondered what else the Aurors had managed to overlook when they'd stripped the manor of Dark Artefacts. They certainly hadn't discovered the room's little secrets - the propensity of the headboard to grow spiked shackles, for instance, or the disguised chests of drawers holding Malfoy's little 'toys'...
When he concentrated, Percy could still feel twinges in his back and neck, but only faintly. He must have slept for quite some time, and the fading fuzz at the corner of his brain was a telltale sign that his rest had been aided by magic. Just as, he was ready to bet, had been his transport up to bed and the act of undressing him.
He licked his dry lips, managing only to leave them sticky and stinging from the lack of moisture. Determined to shove thirst to the back of his mind, he revelled in the freedom of his limbs - at the moment, at least, he was unbound. He was also - obviously - alone, but that didn't mean anything. Malfoy had any number of means to observe him in secret if he wanted to.
And indeed it took only a few minutes during which Percy wished it were safe to sneak into the adjacent bathroom and take a few deep gulps of water from the tap, before the middle of the room... rippled, and Lucius Malfoy stepped around thin air. Behind him, the air shuddered again and then curdled into nothing.
There was an alarmingly smug smirk curling at the corners of Malfoy's lips as he sauntered towards the bed.
"You've disappointed me today, Percy."
Faintly, Percy tried to protest, but the words died in a croak inside his throat that didn't - didn't! - have anything to do with the way Malfoy's finger was crooking to play with his nipple.
"Water - please!" he rasped at last. Malfoy cocked his head.
"Favours, even though you've done nothing to deserve them?"
For a moment, Percy considered to just let it go and suffer thirst for the rest of the night. But if Malfoy expected anything more of him than to spread his legs and offer his arse - and he usually did expect more than that - he'd just set himself up for worse punishment.
"Please," he whispered again. Pride had been the first thing he'd sacrificed in the bargain for Ron's life, ever since Malfoy had ordered Percy to kneel and pleasure him as proof of his sincerity right where he was chained spread-eagled to the wall of his Azkaban cell.
"As you wish." Malfoy drew Percy's own wand from the depths of his white house-robe - his own had been snapped upon his arrival inside the walls of Azkaban - and conjured a pitcher of water and a goblet on a silver tray floating in mid-air. The pitcher rose up and the sight of water pouring into the goblet quickened Percy's pulse. It soared into Malfoy's hand, and he observed it contemplatively. "You know that you'll have to repay me for this, too?"
"Yes," Percy croaked. Instead of handing him the goblet, Malfoy put a hand on Percy's neck and lifted his head until the cool rim could comfortably touch his lips. And then Percy luxuriated in the spill of iced water on his parched tongue, and the bliss of it trickling down his abraded throat.
Despite his thirst, Percy sipped slowly. Malfoy despised bad manners, and Percy would not lower himself to display them in the small matters he still had control over. And yet it surprised him when Malfoy poured him another half-goblet after the first and patiently waited for Percy to empty it as well. He wasn't used to kindness, and Malfoy's gentle touch prickled at the nape of his neck like the brush of a spider's legs. There was no gentle bone in the man, only polished, icy calculation - his behaviour was just plain wrong.
Then Malfoy withdrew his hand and Percy sank back down onto the mattress while a wand flick vanished the tray.
"You keep falling short on your promises, Percy," Malfoy took up his earlier line of thought; Percy trembled in apprehension, at the words as much as because Malfoy's fingertips had returned to run freely over his stomach and chest. "You promise me freedom and then leave me bound in my own house for Aurors to harass?"
Percy bit his lip. It wouldn't go down well if he told Malfoy he was vastly over-estimating the influence of a disgraced junior aide to the Minister of Magic.
"You pledged yourself to serve as the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord in Scrimgeour's office, but all you've brought me so far were bureaucratic tidbits." Malfoy ran his finger along Percy's cock and lightly rubbed the head between index finger and thumb. Percy's stomach clenched, expecting pain, but the touch remained light like a playful lover's and the stupid organ hardened mindlessly under the stimulation.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "They don't trust me - Magical Law Enforcement, Shacklebolt, Moody... They're furious. I've been called in twice this week for Examination on Imperius and Dark Tampering, and it's supposed to be random, and once a month at most-"
Percy realised he was babbling when Malfoy's index finger tapped on his lip to silence him.
"I will accept no excuses, Percy. And most of all, I will not suffer another humiliation like today's. I bargained your brother away from my more... uncharitable associates with promises to the future glory of our Lord. If you don't deliver, perhaps I won't chastise you in the future, but play with sweet little Ronald instead."
Cold panic hissed inside Percy's chest. He flinched, made to grab for Malfoy's hand, but it pressed down on his breastbone hard enough to leave him breathless.
"You can't! You swore he'd be safe!"
"As you swore you'd serve me?"
Percy had long realised that Malfoy's own position was precarious. With his son fled, his wife gone into hiding and himself a failure, he'd been quite out of favour with his master. He'd used Percy not just as a ticket out of Azkaban, but also to reinsert himself into You-Know-Who's good graces. The chance of having a spy right inside Rufus Scrimgeour's office in exchange for nothing more than the return of an already harshly-used plaything. But he had little leeway - he needed to produce results.
"I want to see Ron," Percy insisted, raspy and fearful.
"Oh, you will, never fear." There was a snake-cold expression on the man's face now. "But I'll expect better from you, or he will pay the price. Not that he'd mind much, I suspect."
The most terrible thing of course was that Malfoy might be right. It had been exactly ten days after the Aurors had delivered the man - chained and torqued - to his former home and into Percy's care that Malfoy had brought Ron home, shrouded in a Fidelius Charm for which Malfoy himself served as Secret Keeper.
Outwardly, Ron had looked unharmed when Malfoy finally allowed Percy into the room where his brother was turning in an uneasy sleep. But Percy had seen the dark shadows left by powerful healing charms that still marred Ron's skin. And the few times Percy had been allowed afterwards to watch through a magical mirror or a scrying bowl when Ron was awake, he'd looked very different from the lively if quiet boy Percy had known all his life. Not quite mad, or so Percy hoped, but... docile. Frightened and hurt to the bone and beyond. Obeying not only Malfoy's every command, but seemingly aware of the implications of his every gesture, blue eyes shadowed and downcast.
Percy had been told Lucius had taken his brother from Lestrange and a few other of You-Know-Who's more deranged madmen after a bit of persuasion, and he'd tried very hard not to think about what those monsters might have done to Ron in the weeks between his capture and Malfoy's intervention. It would drive him mad to dwell on it. There was a warped sense of consolation that Malfoy's Fidelius protected Ron from the attentions of his associates even as it hid him away from the world. It was as much safety as Percy had been able to buy. Percy himself had learned the art of surrender at Malfoy's hands early on. He could only hope that it was that same lesson that lay at the core of Ron's submissive behaviour, that he hadn't been broken beyond repair.
Malfoy's hands kept running over Percy's skin, his prick, as if to belie his soft-spoken threats. Percy dug his fingers into the sheets, frightened and unsure of what to do with his hands; he was used to being bound, or just restrained by a command. He longed to touch himself, to put a bit of vigour into the maddening light brushes Malfoy lavished on his groin, but that would invite punishment. He even longed to touch Malfoy, confused by the rare gift of pleasure, but didn't dare to. He could only lie there and shift his hips ever-so-slightly, trying to be as inconspicuous about his frustration as possible.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Percy?" Malfoy inquired silkily, even though the restless movement of Percy's hips must write the answer out for him in glaring letters.
"Yes," Percy whispered, as raw as if Malfoy's hand was again wrapped around his throat. Malfoy graced him with a feral grin and crab-walked his fingers up from Percy's groin to tickle, then twist one of his nipples. Percy moaned before he could catch himself, from the loss of pressure on his cock as much as from the delicious sting. He couldn't fathom what Malfoy was on about, threatening and caressing him in turn, but if this was the prelude to pain, Percy could just as well enjoy it as a good thing for as long as it lasted.
He jumped in surprise when Malfoy lowered his head to suck lightly at his chest until his nipples stood out reddish and hard. Then he leaned up to smirk into Percy's face and snatched something out of the air. Percy gulped as he watched the glittering silver maws titter and snap on Malfoy's palm. Animated only, but the little clamps looked like hungry doxies. They hurt just as much when they bit down, too.
"Your choice," Malfoy murmured and trailed a nail over the vulnerable insides of Percy's thighs, provoking gooseflesh and an embarrassing twitch of his cock.
Percy gnawed the inside of his cheek. He'd worn the clamps before, much larger ones even which had been connected and weighed down by a chain. Malfoy's drawers were certainly well-stocked when it came to tormenting his victims in bed. Then again, it wasn't as if there was a real choice, and it was never wise to cross Malfoy, especially not when he was as erratic as today. He nodded.
"What, pet?"
Percy nearly swallowed his tongue at the endearment, but hurried to reply. "Yes. Put them on me, please."
The little silver beasts quivered eagerly between Malfoy's fingers as he moistened Percy's left nipple with his tongue, blew on it until the nub tightened into a shuddering peak, then let the silver teeth bite down around it. Percy sucked in a hiss of air at the sudden, brilliant burst of pain, and felt it spark something wild inside his groin. His legs splayed open a little more. The second clamp snapped into place without any loving preparation, and this time a low groan escaped Percy's lips.
Malfoy observed the silver ornaments with satisfaction. A spell urged them to more activity, making them gnaw and pull on Percy's poor trapped nipples until he writhed. His cock, however, curved up into Malfoy's palm as if the two had been made for each other.
Sometimes Percy wondered whether Malfoy had infected him with the ability to draw enjoyment from pain during sex, and hated himself for his responsiveness at the man's hands. He certainly had experienced only timid tenderness during his lovemaking with Penelope. He didn't enjoy the pain, or the ropes, or Malfoy splitting his insides apart with his cock. But there was a state of mind - when he was too far gone to think, and scraped too raw inside and out to feel much pain any longer, when calmness wrapped itself around his abused body like a warm blanket, a blank slate that no fear or worry or thought could still touch. He could've died content, in those moments.
His body wasn't willing to pass up on the pleasure, though; it arched a little as Malfoy kept stroking his cock, and he felt his precome wetting the Death Eater's fingers and altering his grip from rough rub to a sinuous, slippery slide. Every time those brilliant fingers brushed the slick mess of his cockhead, or played over the filigree wings of the clamps, his balls tightened painfully. The edge of fear - the sheer unbelievable wrongness of Malfoy jerking him off - almost made his pleasure more intense.
And then Malfoy's thumb pressed into the tender skin right above Percy's left elbow. Searing pain flowered in his arm as the man conjured Percy's makeshift Mark, painting every curve, swirl and slide into his pasty, freckled skin. It was like having acidic slime poured onto his skin that dried into a foul film and was then set on fire.
Malfoy had taken Percy down to the dungeons on the first night after their arrival at the manor, and had used his wand to spell the Mark onto the blistering skin of Percy's arm while he fucked him into the flagstones. Even then, half-delirious with pain and shock, Percy had understood Malfoy's need to leave a mark of power of his own against the choking indignity of having been fitted out with a restraining torque in front of a group of Aurors and Ministry witnesses.
Percy hadn't even known that anyone but the Dark Lord could bestow the Mark, and still wondered whether it was anything like the real thing; it hadn't been brought to life by any of the - rather invasive - physical and magical examinations the Auror Department had subjected him to. Only Malfoy himself could coax it out - and only Malfoy could make it sear and burn and coil inside his blood like a seductive snake, leaving Percy a helpless prey to pleasure as if the ink-black snake slithered out of its skull and transformed into a tendril of lust that rushed right into his cock.
Overcome by want, Percy humped Malfoy's hand shamelessly, and felt the leaden tightness in his balls which howled for release. He knew the punishments for coming without explicit permission all too well, though.
"Please," he begged, hoarse desperation dripping from the syllable.
"Say my name, and you may climax," Malfoy whispered, his breath moist and his mouth almost touching Percy's skin.
Percy stared up at the sharply-defined, hard face, distant like the stars and yet so close to his own, flushed one. His pulse hammered in his throat. In a mad impulse, he reached up to touch Malfoy's pale cheek, curving his sweaty fingers along the man's cool jawline, and whispered, "Lucius."
Malfoy's fingers tightened around his prick, a slick pinch that compressed the wet slit until it gaped like a flower opening for a bee. The touch wrung a whimper from Percy's lips that transformed into a broken chant of "Lucius, Lucius..." like the recurrent waves that lapped the sea to rest.
The blinding shock that leapt through his balls and resulted in a white spill erupting from his cock came almost as a surprise, but with a force that made his eyes roll up in their sockets. He felt his come spurting over Malfoy's fingers, saw bright sparks and lost his breath just as he'd done when Malfoy had cut off his air supply. The murmurs of Lucius' name died in his throat.
For a long minute, the world was far away and washed white, until the roaring tide of culmination quieted in his ears and the painfully knotted muscles relaxed in his calves. Gasping for air, he opened his lips to admit Malfoy's wet fingers. He sucked them into his mouth as delicately as possible, tasting his own fluid. It splashed the colour of shame into his cheeks even as his tongue scraped lightly over the palm of Malfoy's hand. He didn't like the taste, but the gesture was mandatory - Malfoy would accept no less.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Malfoy asked again, huskily in the muffled, breathless silence that had fallen over the room. The tone alone provoked another twitch in Percy's wet, spent cock.
He nodded, and released the long-fingered hand from his lips. "Yes, Lucius."
"And you did ask for permission to see your brother."
Slightly unnerved by the fine smile that kept tugging at the man's mouth, Percy nodded again. "Please."
"All right, then." Malfoy rose and picked up the wand from where it lay next to Percy's discarded glasses on the bedside table. Percy swung his legs off the bed, hoping against hope that he might be allowed a robe for the trip down to the lower wing where Malfoy had lodged Ron. It wasn't likely though - he usually went naked from the moment he got back to the manor right up to his departure for the Ministry. Perhaps it gave Malfoy an added feeling of power.
He made to rise, but Malfoy's hand held him back, a warm weight on his shoulder. Percy's heart sank when Malfoy crouched behind him, draping his long body around him, wand in hand. He much preferred looking at Ron with his own eyes rather than through a magical artefact. Even scrying bowls or spyglasses could be falsified.
For all that Percy wasn't allowed to speak - or show himself - to his brother, he had occasionally been permitted to observe him with one of those magical instruments. Watching Ron with Malfoy always choked Percy with fear, no matter how innocent those scenes looked - he'd seen them play chess, or just sit together in the same room, or, once, Lucius reading in an armchair with Ron sitting at his feet, cheek resting on Malfoy's robe-covered thigh and fast asleep. The intimacy of that last scene still haunted Percy's nightmares.
Malfoy waved Percy's wand at the middle of the room, and again, the air rippled as it had done when the man had first appeared inside. This time, however, Percy realised that it wasn't an effect like air being compressed as it happened with a localised Apparition, but something in the air itself. An iridescent gauze, spanning the whole room, fluttered in the conjured breeze, shimmering in a silver light where it fell into folds.
An invisibility curtain! Percy had seen Invisibility Cloaks on sale at L'Ensorcelle's in Diagon, each of them glowing with its own mystery and priced far beyond his means of a dozen years. This must have taken several cloaks' worth of Demiguise hair to spin, and be beyond priceless.
The whole room seemed to shudder and spin as the fine cloth disengaged from the ceiling, and fell to the ground in cloudy waves.
And then Percy whimpered in terror because the fall of the invisible barrier revealed a leather-upholstered stool in the middle of the room. On the stool, directly facing the bed, sat Ron Weasley, feet drawn up to the footrest, both fists balled and resting on the leather seat next to his hips. He was dressed in the same loose, belted house robe Malfoy favoured, only that Ron's was black.
And his face... Percy blanched, and the urge to throw himself down and hide his face in the pillows and his body under the sheets became overwhelming. But he remained sitting like a stone, Malfoy's arms around his chest, Malfoy's chin on his shoulder, Malfoy's smell clinging to his skin. He'd never been the victim of Petrification, but suddenly knew how Penny must have felt, turning slowly to stone. Ron's eyes were bruised and dark, his face devoid of any expression, but his mouth an eloquent knife-thin line.
The thought that his brother had watched him writhing under Malfoy's hands, that he'd heard him beg and whisper Malfoy's name like a lover, that he'd seen his ultimate surrender...
"Now," Malfoy murmured into his ear from behind, "you were told that you'd be punished, weren't you?"
"That was sickening!" Percy snapped, just as low, but with more fury than he'd dared show the Death Eater before.
"That, my dear Percy," Malfoy ran a finger over Percy's flaccid prick, "-wasn't it. Now, I do think that your poor brother may feel a little left out. I want you to go over to him and pleasure him with all the care you'd show myself."
The sick heave in Percy's stomach intensified. He dug his fingers into the bedclothes. "I will never touch my brother like that, Malfoy!" he snarled, and realised from the way Ron's eyes widened that his expression must have turned into something frightening. Still, he kept his voice quiet enough that Ron wouldn't be able to hear.
"Oh, I think you will," Malfoy cut across his protests. "Because if you refuse, I'll take our little morsel down to the dungeons and fuck him myself. I'm sure he would enjoy that far less than a blowjob from a loving brother."
Over the roar of blood in his ears, Percy protested. "You swore you wouldn't hurt him!"
"This won't hurt him at all - and believe me, he knows what being hurt means; this will only hurt you."
Malfoy grabbed his chin and forced Percy to meet his steely eyes. "Our bargain was that young Ronald would be safe as long as you lived up to your obligations. You haven't. Which means that I don't see why I should." He let go of Percy's face. "Now get over there and suck him."
Percy stared at Ron's crotch, hidden by the smooth silk of his robe, and fidgeted. He'd thought he'd encountered the nadir of Malfoy's depravity when he'd forced Percy's own body to his will, but this... A pleading glance up at the man's implacable face showed him that Malfoy would not relent. Percy fidgeted again.
"A task most efficiently performed on your knees, I'd think," the monster added mildly. And then, when Percy had managed to struggle up to stand on wobbly legs, "Don't speak to him - not a word."
Every inch of Percy's skin was crawling as he stumbled the few steps over to his target. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron, so he stared at the tense arch of his ankles on the footrest of the stool. Ungainly, he lowered himself to his knees before Ron, egotistically wishing for a moment that his brother's mind were truly gone so he wouldn't have to experience this. But when he glanced up, he saw Ron's eyes glued with frightful clarity to the lines of the Mark that still bloomed fat and dark against the pasty skin of Percy's forearm. The sharp line around Ron's mouth deepened, although he said nothing and didn't look away.
Surely, Percy told himself as his hands reached up to undo the loosely-knotted belt of Ron's robe, his brother would know that Percy would never have taken the Dark Mark if there had been any other option, and that he wasn't touching Ron out of cruelty, or to please Malfoy! Then again, Ron had watched him climax in Malfoy's arms, and had been all too ready to believe the very worst of Percy over the past years.
Underneath the flowing robe, Ron was naked just as Malfoy had been. Reluctantly, Percy bared his brother's legs and lower body. He could smell Ron, healthy like freshly-mowed grass, and his skin, Percy discovered as he postponed going for his goal by stroking Ron's thighs, was very soft. Smell and feel reminded him of the tiny bundle he'd dragged around proudly when he'd been a toddler, and Ron just born.
Yet for all his ostensible health, there was something unnatural about his brother. Percy had seen him grow up, all gangly limbs, scraped knees and freckles, and some of that... Ron-ness was lacking. He shoved the robe out of Ron's chest and encountered creamy skin and pronounced, rosy nipples. Percy had read Ron's earlier pallor as a sign of abuse and exhaustion, but now it made him pause. A mild scattering of freckles still circled his nose, but they had practically vanished from his arms, chest and neck. Even Ron's hair was different: longer and more darkly red in place of its normal, carroty colour. His eyes darker.
Percy swallowed hard. He'd heard about those spells - the sort of Dark Arts wizarding mothers warned their daughters against. Artificial beauty that paid no heed to the demands and the uniqueness of the body it altered, draining vitality and magic in equal measure. Rage bloomed in Percy's chest, and only a sudden indraw of breath made him aware that he'd pinched the flesh of Ron's thigh in agitation. He let go and rubbed the angry red spot gently.
Tempting as it was, he couldn't quite convince himself that it had been Malfoy's work - the man had fucked him, Percy, who was if anything even less physically attractive than Ron, for weeks. No, this smacked of a woman's hand - one whose beauty had been ravaged by time and Azkaban. Only Lestrange, Percy thought, shaking with pity for his poor, violated little brother, would make her victims more alluring before setting out to destroy them.
He slipped his fingers between Ron's legs to caress the downy skin at the insides of his thighs, and gratefully watched his brother part his legs at this most minimal of urgings. Ron's compliance was comforting, because Percy wouldn't be able to touch him roughly - there was something too fragile about the way Ron sat on his stool and allowed himself to be fondled and moved about like a puppet.
Against all his better instincts, Percy reached up to where his brother's cock lay nestled against his left thigh, as if trying to hide from prying fingers. He ran the pad of his thumb along the sweaty, half-stiff flesh, at the same time relieved and affronted that Ron showed a reaction. There was something quintessentially wrong about Ron becoming aroused by watching Percy with Malfoy, but then he was also seventeen and perhaps - just like Percy - considered responsiveness the most prudent course of action in order not to incur Malfoy's wrath.
When he lowered his head to nuzzle Ron's pubic hair, the earthy tang of his brother's cock filled his nose, very different from Malfoy's distinct smell, and so essentially Ron that it brought tears to Percy's eyes.
Gingerly, Percy prodded the cock with his index finger before steeling himself and wrapping his hand around the warm, sweaty organ. It twitched a little on his palm as his moist breath ghosted over it. Struggling against the guilt that swept in a sickly wave through his stomach, he gave it a lick. The taste was as earthy as the smell, and salty. Percy felt the reluctant cock harden as he snaked his tongue around it. It took all his courage to draw the tip into his mouth, sucking on the fragrant, spongy flesh.
Ron remained unmoving, sitting as rigid as a statue even as Percy's lips slid up and down his cock, busy recalling all the lessons Malfoy had taught him about this particular activity.
With gentle hands, Percy spread Ron's thighs a bit more on the stool, noticing the way the muscles in his calves had stiffened. Ron's toes were curled tightly around the footrest. Percy reached up to roll smooth, surprisingly delicate balls in the warm cradle of his palm, then slid his fingers behind to lightly press against Ron's perineum. It provoked a stifled gasp, the first sound Ron had made since Percy had seen him. He arched his back a little. Percy slid his lips down to suckle at the swollen head, then risked a peek up into his brother's face - Ron's mouth was open a little, his eyes shut tightly. Percy could only hope that in his mind, his brother was able to replace his mouth with a fantasy in order to escape from the abomination of the act.
Percy's right nipple caught on Ron's bare toes on the footrest, and Percy felt both of them tremble in unison - Ron from he sudden contact with cold metal, Percy because the clamp fluttered its wings and bit down sullenly until shivers travelled up his back. He could almost hear the little thing growl. But when Percy arched his back and accidentally brushed Ron's hand as he tried to hold on to something to distract himself from he sudden pain, Ron pulled away his fingers as if he'd dipped them into acid, and cradled them against his chest.
In retaliation, Percy wrung another soft mewl from his brother when he gave his prick a hollow-cheeked suck, then took it into his throat as deeply as he could, and swallowed around it. He heard the scrape of Ron's nails as they dug into the wooden bottom of the seat, felt the upward strain of his hips and the distinct taste of precome at the back of his throat.
Desperate to end the travesty as quickly as possible, he worked Ron alternately with tongue swipes and deep sucks that almost acquainted the head of his brother's cock with his tonsils, massaging his balls with one free hand until his brother rocked restlessly on his seat, legs splayed wide and near-boneless, soft, pained sounds escaping his throat with every breath. The pale skin of Ron's thighs and abdomen was mottled pink with arousal, his prick red and straining. Hating himself for causing his brother such distress, Percy pinched his calf in impotent anger and swallowed the desperate prick into his throat again.
He felt Malfoy's hand on his back just as Ron twisted forward on his seat, frantically trying to delve deeper into Percy's mouth and nearly falling over in his urgency.
"Enough."
Wide-eyed, Percy let the wet cock slip from his lips and twisted his head around. Ron's groan of helpless protest made the hairs stand up at the back of his neck.
There was a feral light in Malfoy's eyes as he shrugged his robe off his shoulders, revealing pale, smooth limbs and an arrogantly curved cock that had returned to life observing Percy's ministrations. It was already slicked with something, and Malfoy stroked himself provocatively as he took in the perverted scene he'd set up.
"There will be time for the boy later."
He grabbed Percy's shoulders and pushed him back down again, pulling Percy's hips towards him as he knelt down behind him. Malfoy's hands were burning the cool skin of Percy's waist as he positioned himself.
"Why don't you hold on to dear Ronald while I take you," Malfoy snarled and shoved Percy face-first against Ron's stomach, roughly pulling his legs apart for better access while Percy grappled for purchase.
Percy let go of the wooden legs of the stool and wrapped his arms around Ron's middle, holding on for dear life as Malfoy pushed into him in a long, unforgiving thrust that had Percy throwing his head back in agony. Malfoy was lubricated, if not very generously, but having to molest his own brother had chased all after-effects of orgasm from Percy's mind. His inner walls contracted around Malfoy's cock in protest, making the rapid entry hurt even more.
His whine was drowned in Malfoy's satisfied groan. The man pulled out again almost entirely, then gave another shove into Percy's unprepared depths before setting up a cruel rhythm. It felt as if Malfoy was in the grip of some animalistic rut, a single-minded drive for pleasure with no care for the way Percy's back arched with pain, or that Percy's arse downright screamed under the rapid thrusts.
And then he shrieked out loud when Malfoy's fingers found the clamps on his chest and twisted them brutally until the metal teeth bit into the tender flesh deeply enough to draw blood.
Percy buried his face against Ron's hip, his brother's cock pressed against his cheek in a slimy trail of precome. He couldn't stop himself from squirming in the grip of agony and moaning into the sweaty skin, which had to bring even more distress to Ron's aching erection. Percy wondered if his brother could feel his tears wet against his hip, and was able to read them right.
Malfoy fucked him without any care, quick and vengeful and seeming to delight in the way the thrusts were shoving Percy further into Ron. Ron's eyes were open, and had turned so dark they were nearly black, his body a coiled spring of need. Percy tried to cushion him, tried to bear the weight of Malfoy's assault himself, tried to hang on without sobbing too loudly until Malfoy went rigid, digging sharp nails into the quivering skin of Percy's back and flooded his insides with warm, slippery fluid.
He pulled out immediately, sending trickles of come down the back of Percy's thighs, and carelessly wiped his dripping cock on Percy's hip. Percy lay wrapped around Ron's waist, trembling and too weak to work up much indignation as the Death Eater rose to his feet behind him. Without giving him time to catch his breath, Malfoy pulled him away from his brother. The mere movement sent a shock of agony through Percy's arse, and nearly had him collapse on the floor.
Percy raised his head weakly as Malfoy focused his attention back on Ron's rigid body.
"My, it looks as if poor Ronald is in a state indeed." Malfoy smirked as he knotted the belt of his robe while the pink flush was fading quickly on his cheeks. He stood there with a degree of self-possession that implied nothing of importance had happened.
Ron's lower lip was plumped, with teeth marks that spoke of his struggle against orgasm. His prick stood up in a rigid curve towards his stomach, ruddy and swollen and shiny with precome.
"There is no wrong in teaching the young a little bit of restraint," Malfoy said conversationally and stroked the flushed skin of Ron's cheek with long white fingers. "But it would be churlish to let a guest suffer. Though I think we'll leave the choice to you, Ronald. Would you rather have your brother see to your satisfaction, or return with me to your chambers to... take care of matters?" Ron's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, sweat turning his fringe into a dark red. "How about sealing your choice with a kiss, little one?"
Percy flinched at the abruptness with which Ron slipped off the stool, not even lifting a finger to pull the gaping robe around him. He didn't spare a single glance for Percy, but stepped right into the circle of Malfoy's arms and lifted his mouth to Malfoy's lips.
The sight cut Percy like a carving knife opening up his chest cavity; Ron's body, moulding itself against Malfoy's, his mouth half open, searching for the Death Eater's lips like a newborn mouthing against its mother's breast... Malfoy's hand stroking Ron's thigh under the flimsy black robe, Ron dipping his head back to bare his throat for Malfoy's mouth to claim. Percy had to turn his face away to disguise the tears that threatened to spill. He bumped into the bedside table and fumbled for his horn-rimmed glasses to shield his grief.
He hadn't wanted that kiss for himself, truly not, but he wanted to protect his brother, anything but to abandon him into Malfoy's hands. But Malfoy had made sure that Ron would never trust Percy again after this - after seeing him making what looked like love to Malfoy, begging the Death Eater, and then being misused by Percy the way he'd been.
Malfoy pressed another kiss to the boy's temple and threw Percy a horrible, amused look over the top of Ron's red head.
"I think it's time for you to retire to your rooms for the night, Percy. After all, you will have another busy day tomorrow at the Ministry."
A casual gesture, and the winged clamps let go of Percy's nipples. Pain seared through his chest so abruptly that Percy had to stifle a howl against his palm. Like dead insects, they insidious little things clattered to the floor.
Stumbling backwards on icy, bare feet, Percy observed Malfoy's possessive arm around his brother's shoulders, the stark contrast of red, white and black that seemed to tie them together like an abstract painting, the unresisting lines of Ron's body language - Ron, who didn't even bother to look away from Percy, just looked through him as if he'd never existed at all. It took all of Percy's willpower to keep his face from crumbling until he had his back to them both, trying to ignore the drying semen on the backs of his thighs and the squelchy feeling in his arse as he moved. The silvery shroud of the invisibility curtain snagged his ankle as he fled, then let him escape through the door with a silky rustle.
Percy bit down on the side of his hand as he stumbled though the dark corridors on his way back to his room both to fight the burning pain in his lower body and to keep from sinking down against a random wall and throwing up. His shoulders trembled, but the dry sobs seemed unable to find their outlet in tears.
He found his bedroom door and staggered inside, shivering in the spacious darkness. A single line of light still showed at the horizon outside the window. It had only been a few hours, then, if enough to shatter his whole life.
He saw the oval shape of a magical mirror sitting on the desk by the window, mocking him with its presence. It tempted Percy to activate it and look in on Malfoy and Ron. The cool, dark glass projected suggestions of tangled limbs and his brother's dark-eyed, open-mouthed passion. With a feral snarl, Percy swept the priceless artefact off the table, where it shattered in a rain of shards and fizzling flickers of enchanted light.
Oblivious to the glass embedding itself into the soles of his feet, he collapsed beside the bed, shaking with cold. His mind flitted between images - of Ron, of Malfoy, of the Ministry where he would have to dig up something to feed the Dark Lord no matter the cost. He could not, would not allow something like this to happen again!
The Fidelius Charm kept Ron hidden away from the world, accessible only to those to whom his Secret Keeper chose to divulge his presence. Even if Percy confessed his treachery to the Aurors, they wouldn't be able to find Ron. And although after this night Percy knew he'd have all the strength required for the casting of the Killing Curse, Malfoy had warned him very early and in no uncertain terms that - thanks to a slight modification of the Fidelius Charm - any attempt on his, Malfoy's life would end Ron's for good.
Percy would have to return Malfoy's attention to himself, and himself alone. And, he tried to convince himself as he wiped icy palms over his face as if to wash away the day's nightmares, if he did what Malfoy wanted, the Death Eater would not again stray down towards the lower wing that held Ron's prison. He wouldn't need to! A hateful little voice at the back of his head whispered that Percy would never know even if he did, but he quelled it by biting down on his hand again until he tasted salty iron. There was nothing else he could do. He'd surrendered to the Dark Lord's own, and he'd have to play the game out no matter what.
After what seemed like hours, he hoisted himself up and crawled into bed, ignoring the red smears his feet left on the bedclothes. Tomorrow, he'd slip into his new life as a spy for real, and tonight he'd try not to think about what Malfoy was doing to his brother right now, just a few rooms away.
He lay between the costly, crisp silk sheets of his bed - never anything but the best in Malfoy's household - curled in a foetal position with the grassy smell of his brother's skin still in his nostrils and the urgent taste of his brother's cock in his mouth, and cried.
~ finis ~
I'm sitting on quite a handful of reversathon-recs, but I've read so few stories so far that it's not even funny, and my RL workload will probably tie me down for a while yet, so, well, asap :). Browsing the Masterlist is a good idea, though.
Come to Make Me Pay (Lucius/Sirius, NC-17) by comtesse_sin. Which, despite the rating and definite hotness, shines for its complex plot and the breath-taking intricacy of its wizarding world where Lucius struggles to regain his position. So worth reading! (*pokes rfachir* - I have the feeling you might like this in particular...)
Well, and here's my own modest contribution for anneline, with many thanks for an intriguing prompt and for letting me get away with the kink I wanted :).
Title: The Art of Surrender
Author: mrennan_moredon aka Hijja
Pairing(s): Lucius/Percy, Percy/Ron, Lucius/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): incest, non-con, coercion, breathplay, voyeurism, mild toy use
Length: 9000 words
Feedback: so very welcome, including concrit!
Summary: Percy will do anything to make sure that Ron stays alive and safe. Lucius will do anything to make sure that Percy knows how completely Lucius owns both him and his little brother.
Note: Velma Laveela (anneline) requested:
A kinky Lucius/Percy - dubious consent/non-con, exhibitionism/voyeurism, BDSM, or D/s or any combination you feel like.
With warm, loving feelings for lazy_neutrino and hummelchen, for beta and test-reading! And for gehayi who made up the summary :).
As always when Percy Weasley took the long, tree-lined carriageway up to the entrance of Lucius Malfoy's Wiltshire manor, the two pillars framing the double doors looked like harbingers of doom. The classical simplicity of the place made his good work robes appear shabby in comparison, and even his fashionable Moke-skin briefcase - bought with his first six months' wages after starting at Mr Crouch's office - seemed to yellow and fade.
For a man who had always dreamed of living in a decent house, Percy had come to hate his new domicile with a rare passion. Which shouldn't be the case, considering that he had petitioned for, fought over, and finally won permission to assume guardianship over both the manor and its owner.
Dread knotted his belly as he approached the entrance. Again, he'd brought nothing of value to trade. He had even been snarled at by the Minister to keep his 'private pet projects' out of his working hours when Scrimgeour had caught him filling out his weekly sheaf of MLE parchments to document the conduct and deportment of his charge. No, Minister Scrimgeour would have distinctly preferred Lucius Malfoy locked up in Azkaban rather than have him sitting under house arrest in his manor, occupying his office staff, and casting doubt on his tough stance on all things Death Eater. But then, so would Percy.
Malfoy, however, was the only Death Eater Percy had ever met socially. So when he'd received his mother's tear-stained parchment that Ron had been abducted during a lazy afternoon's shopping in Diagon Alley along with a taunting note that the Chosen One's closest companion might in time come to rue that he had ever crossed Potter's path, his thoughts - after a moment of heart-stopping panic - went straight to the man who had been Minister Fudge's personal friend and benefactor, and his own father's outspoken enemy.
Yes, Lucius Malfoy was incarcerated in Azkaban and had certainly earned that honour. But Percy served as junior aide to Minister of Magic, so writing himself a special licence to visit Malfoy in prison was accomplished easily enough. If you projected confidence and occupied a position of power, abusing it was frighteningly simple. Digging up dodgy old St Mungo's testimonies from the first war about the man's vulnerability to Imperius to appeal Malfoy's confinement had proven even simpler.
Apart from the responsibility of supervising Malfoy's house arrest, it had earned him Scrimgeour's ire and the lasting hatred of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, demonstrated yet again this afternoon when Alastor Moody had dropped by at Percy's office, gleefully announcing that he and Kingsley Shacklebolt had visited the manor to make sure "the bastard wasn't up to anything".
So it had been shaping up into a distinctly bad day even before Percy had run into the twins while paying his monthly wages into his Gringotts account. The silence that followed Percy walking around the corner and almost bowling Fred over had been cutting.
"How could you?" George had hissed at last. "Vouch for Malfoy's release after what the Death Eaters did to Ron!"
The urge to explain himself had been gnawing on Percy, at war with the recollection of how he'd had to learn about Ron's fate from his mother's letter days after the fact. Neither his father nor any of his brothers had thought it necessary to inform him, although Percy was placed in the perfect position to help. That still hurt.
"Our little brother is dead, and you're cosying up to Malfoy!" Fred had added, disgust dripping from his voice.
Percy's own voice had been raw like a crow's as he croaked, "Why don't you mind your own business-"
Which was when George's fist landed on his mouth and knocked him right into the wall. Fred had given him a look of pained rage, then dragged his seething twin away. Percy was left to struggle to his feet under the coldly amused gaze of a handful of goblins.
Percy fingered the bruise on his lip and decided that the humiliation was well worth it. Because Ron wasn't dead, and if 'cosying up to Lucius Malfoy' meant that he remained alive, bearing his brothers' hatred was a small price to pay. Not that he wasn't used to that anyway.
Coming back to reality, he realised that his feet had been dragging the closer he came to the entrance, and had come to an instinctive stop before the four flat steps that led up to the twin doors. Even his subconscious, it seemed, was procrastinating to postpone his inevitable encounter with the manor's owner.
He raised his wand to announce himself to the security spells the Ministry had placed around the house, ensuring that the prisoner could not leave without Percy's permission, nor was anyone to enter whom he hadn't personally cleared. Percy knew just as well that the manor's generation-old protective charms would already have announced his approach to their master. His spell had one of the huge bronze doors swing open to admit him. He stepped up and inside.
As always, Percy tried not to be impressed by the height of the hall, the vast marble entrance chamber, and the twin spiral stairs leading to the upper storeys. The door clicked shut behind him, and he remained unmoving until his eyes had made out their target.
Lucius Malfoy was waiting for him, in a floor-length white house robe that looked unsettlingly bridal. Percy threw a nervous glance at the man. The ex-prisoner stood with his head demurely lowered, pale strands of hair streaming over his shoulders. The restraining torque glowed in bright silver around his throat. The torque would render Malfoy docile and powerless as long as Percy didn't take it off him.
After a few endless moments, Malfoy turned to look at him, sharp eyes taking in Percy solitary form, the closed door, to ascertain that he'd come alone. Gathering his courage, Percy walked forward to meet his nemesis. Lucius' gaze brushed him coldly, then the man raised his neck for Percy to inspect. The restraining torque looked raw against the pale skin of Malfoy's throat, although it was spelled not to chafe. Evidently, Shacklebolt and Moody had tested its reliability quite thoroughly today. It was as if the mere thought of being controlled was abrading Malfoy's aristocratic flesh.
"Remove it," Malfoy commanded, his voice ever so slightly raspy.
Percy lifted his wand again. He touched the tip to the collar and spoke the unbinding charm. The sigils on the torque flashed golden for a moment, then went dull. With trembling fingers Percy reached up and unclasped the lock. He pulled the torque off and stood there with the mark of Malfoy's captivity in his hands. Malfoy stared at it, the fingers of one hand touching the base of his throat as if to reassure himself that he was truly free. He froze in mid-move when he realised what he was doing.
Percy hardly registered the step Malfoy took in his direction before Malfoy's back-handed blow sent him sprawling onto the marble floor of the hall. Its sheer force had him skidding several feet along on his robe until he came to lie at the feet of the left-hand spiral staircase. The torque and his wand slipped from his fingers and clattered over the floor in the opposite direction. His cheek was flaming, and his cheekbone felt bruised. At least, Percy thought light-headed from shock, this would mask the welt from George's blow from Malfoy's prying eyes.
Malfoy had followed Percy's sliding form, looming over him like a Lethifold. Percy scrabbled to push himself up onto his elbows on the staircase. The two lowest steps dug into his back, and the horn-rimmed frames of his glasses hung askew. Malfoy stopped right in front of him.
"Your Auror friends decided to drop in today for a bit of fun with the domesticated Dark Wizard," he hissed, and Percy quailed. He'd known this would be coming ever since the moment Moody's scarred grin had appeared round his office door.
Percy managed to pull his glasses off and shove them out of danger when the Death Eater began to undo the lower buttons of his floor-length robe. He was naked underneath, and half-hard already, as if hurting someone provided its very own aphrodisiac. Malfoy reached down to stroke himself, rubbing hard, pinking flesh between a ring of fingers and teasing the slit with his thumbnail. Percy knew better than to look away.
"Cross your hands above your head," Malfoy ordered, and Percy hurried to comply. He suspected Malfoy would enjoy seeing him hesitate, because it gave him reason to go harder on him. Not that obedience guaranteed safety.
Malfoy straddled his chest, and the musky smell of his arousal filled Percy's nose. The wet, half-emerged head of Malfoy's cock lay along Percy's cheek. He turned his head to put his mouth on the man's erection before Malfoy could order him to - sometimes, compliance shortened his torment. Malfoy grabbed his chin.
"Open," he growled, then proceeded to feed Percy his cock.
Percy struggled to relax his throat to the invading flesh, trying not to fight even though Malfoy's weight on his chest compressed his lungs, and the stairs were cutting into his back and neck like dull knives. He busied his tongue along Malfoy's erection, skittering over bumps and veins, and even gave an hasty accommodating swallow when Malfoy thrust forward. It was like being smothered in Malfoy, his throat filled, the strong smell clogging his nostrils, the heavy balls wedged against his chin. The taste of precome clung to the roof of his mouth.
He breathed through his nose in shallow gasps, and tried to keep his lower body from twisting. He could feel the press of Malfoy's thighs along his outstretched arms, encasing him. The Death Eater rutted into his throat, rocking harder, deeper, until colours blossomed before Percy's eyes. He sucked hard, wincing at the obscene slurping noises it produced, and inwardly pleaded with Malfoy to finish before he choked on him. He swallowed painfully although it brought no air, no respite.
Then Malfoy's palm came down on the base of his cock, and slid over Percy's nose in a sealing clasp until his breath was gone altogether. Percy heard Malfoy groan, loud in his ears as his own despairing whimper travelled up the length of Malfoy's cock. He pulled back, just enough to raise Percy's hopes for a rattling lungful of air, then pushed back in, chokingly deep, and the red circles swirled brightly before Percy's eyes.
He couldn't help but struggle now, his nails drawing blood from his palms, feet drumming the marble floor. With every fraying bit of self-control, he forced himself not to uncross his wrists and shove Malfoy off him. He knew the monster sucked half his pleasure out of Percy's helpless flailing. And knew equally well that he would not, could not bite because the consequences would be terrible.
His frantic brain knew he'd survived this before, but Malfoy was so furious. What if he had decided that Percy wasn't useful any longer, would never get him what he wanted? Panic shot through the base of Percy's neck as if it had been touched with a hot iron. He couldn't see anything beyond white pubic hair, but he could imagine Malfoy's eyes, hot and dark with the lure of the ultimate pleasure: ending Percy's life in throes of ecstasy and with the satisfaction that his victim would let it happen without a fight. It would appeal to the very essence of what Malfoy was.
Percy's tongue struggled madly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and into his hair as Malfoy attempted to carve out a place for himself in the cavern of Percy's throat with his cock. The bright red against the insides of his eyelids had dulled to the blackish colour of coagulating blood. Blood roared in his ears as well, louder as his movements grew weaker, his groin tightening in the sheer, agonising hardness of life imperilled.
Surrendering his last wet sigh around Malfoy's cock, he gave in to the spinning pressure inside his head and drowned in the roaring tide of darkness.
***
His throat was raw and dry like sandpaper when he woke. Apart from that, his body was comfortable; silk so cool it felt almost wet was clinging to his sides and chest. Still, his breaths wheezed, longing for humidity.
It took real effort to move, to roll himself onto his back. He knew his surroundings, of course. The carved ebony of the bed frame. The scattering of black and white pillows running together into soft shades of grey before Percy's near-sighted eyes. The sumptuous sheets that crisped back into pristine perfection at a wand's flick. He was naked, but that was to be expected.
Of course it wasn't Malfoy's own bedroom. Percy had seen that when he'd accompanied the Aurors on their final inspection before they left the house - and Malfoy - in his care. It wasn't Percy's own bedroom either, decorated in sparse and elegant blue-greys so different from the loud, oppressive cosiness of the Burrow, or the garish colours of the Gryffindor dormitories, or the austerity of Percy's own tiny flat in Peripher Alley. Malfoy evidently believed that his 'games' did not belong anywhere near his actual living quarters.
Although Percy wondered what else the Aurors had managed to overlook when they'd stripped the manor of Dark Artefacts. They certainly hadn't discovered the room's little secrets - the propensity of the headboard to grow spiked shackles, for instance, or the disguised chests of drawers holding Malfoy's little 'toys'...
When he concentrated, Percy could still feel twinges in his back and neck, but only faintly. He must have slept for quite some time, and the fading fuzz at the corner of his brain was a telltale sign that his rest had been aided by magic. Just as, he was ready to bet, had been his transport up to bed and the act of undressing him.
He licked his dry lips, managing only to leave them sticky and stinging from the lack of moisture. Determined to shove thirst to the back of his mind, he revelled in the freedom of his limbs - at the moment, at least, he was unbound. He was also - obviously - alone, but that didn't mean anything. Malfoy had any number of means to observe him in secret if he wanted to.
And indeed it took only a few minutes during which Percy wished it were safe to sneak into the adjacent bathroom and take a few deep gulps of water from the tap, before the middle of the room... rippled, and Lucius Malfoy stepped around thin air. Behind him, the air shuddered again and then curdled into nothing.
There was an alarmingly smug smirk curling at the corners of Malfoy's lips as he sauntered towards the bed.
"You've disappointed me today, Percy."
Faintly, Percy tried to protest, but the words died in a croak inside his throat that didn't - didn't! - have anything to do with the way Malfoy's finger was crooking to play with his nipple.
"Water - please!" he rasped at last. Malfoy cocked his head.
"Favours, even though you've done nothing to deserve them?"
For a moment, Percy considered to just let it go and suffer thirst for the rest of the night. But if Malfoy expected anything more of him than to spread his legs and offer his arse - and he usually did expect more than that - he'd just set himself up for worse punishment.
"Please," he whispered again. Pride had been the first thing he'd sacrificed in the bargain for Ron's life, ever since Malfoy had ordered Percy to kneel and pleasure him as proof of his sincerity right where he was chained spread-eagled to the wall of his Azkaban cell.
"As you wish." Malfoy drew Percy's own wand from the depths of his white house-robe - his own had been snapped upon his arrival inside the walls of Azkaban - and conjured a pitcher of water and a goblet on a silver tray floating in mid-air. The pitcher rose up and the sight of water pouring into the goblet quickened Percy's pulse. It soared into Malfoy's hand, and he observed it contemplatively. "You know that you'll have to repay me for this, too?"
"Yes," Percy croaked. Instead of handing him the goblet, Malfoy put a hand on Percy's neck and lifted his head until the cool rim could comfortably touch his lips. And then Percy luxuriated in the spill of iced water on his parched tongue, and the bliss of it trickling down his abraded throat.
Despite his thirst, Percy sipped slowly. Malfoy despised bad manners, and Percy would not lower himself to display them in the small matters he still had control over. And yet it surprised him when Malfoy poured him another half-goblet after the first and patiently waited for Percy to empty it as well. He wasn't used to kindness, and Malfoy's gentle touch prickled at the nape of his neck like the brush of a spider's legs. There was no gentle bone in the man, only polished, icy calculation - his behaviour was just plain wrong.
Then Malfoy withdrew his hand and Percy sank back down onto the mattress while a wand flick vanished the tray.
"You keep falling short on your promises, Percy," Malfoy took up his earlier line of thought; Percy trembled in apprehension, at the words as much as because Malfoy's fingertips had returned to run freely over his stomach and chest. "You promise me freedom and then leave me bound in my own house for Aurors to harass?"
Percy bit his lip. It wouldn't go down well if he told Malfoy he was vastly over-estimating the influence of a disgraced junior aide to the Minister of Magic.
"You pledged yourself to serve as the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord in Scrimgeour's office, but all you've brought me so far were bureaucratic tidbits." Malfoy ran his finger along Percy's cock and lightly rubbed the head between index finger and thumb. Percy's stomach clenched, expecting pain, but the touch remained light like a playful lover's and the stupid organ hardened mindlessly under the stimulation.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "They don't trust me - Magical Law Enforcement, Shacklebolt, Moody... They're furious. I've been called in twice this week for Examination on Imperius and Dark Tampering, and it's supposed to be random, and once a month at most-"
Percy realised he was babbling when Malfoy's index finger tapped on his lip to silence him.
"I will accept no excuses, Percy. And most of all, I will not suffer another humiliation like today's. I bargained your brother away from my more... uncharitable associates with promises to the future glory of our Lord. If you don't deliver, perhaps I won't chastise you in the future, but play with sweet little Ronald instead."
Cold panic hissed inside Percy's chest. He flinched, made to grab for Malfoy's hand, but it pressed down on his breastbone hard enough to leave him breathless.
"You can't! You swore he'd be safe!"
"As you swore you'd serve me?"
Percy had long realised that Malfoy's own position was precarious. With his son fled, his wife gone into hiding and himself a failure, he'd been quite out of favour with his master. He'd used Percy not just as a ticket out of Azkaban, but also to reinsert himself into You-Know-Who's good graces. The chance of having a spy right inside Rufus Scrimgeour's office in exchange for nothing more than the return of an already harshly-used plaything. But he had little leeway - he needed to produce results.
"I want to see Ron," Percy insisted, raspy and fearful.
"Oh, you will, never fear." There was a snake-cold expression on the man's face now. "But I'll expect better from you, or he will pay the price. Not that he'd mind much, I suspect."
The most terrible thing of course was that Malfoy might be right. It had been exactly ten days after the Aurors had delivered the man - chained and torqued - to his former home and into Percy's care that Malfoy had brought Ron home, shrouded in a Fidelius Charm for which Malfoy himself served as Secret Keeper.
Outwardly, Ron had looked unharmed when Malfoy finally allowed Percy into the room where his brother was turning in an uneasy sleep. But Percy had seen the dark shadows left by powerful healing charms that still marred Ron's skin. And the few times Percy had been allowed afterwards to watch through a magical mirror or a scrying bowl when Ron was awake, he'd looked very different from the lively if quiet boy Percy had known all his life. Not quite mad, or so Percy hoped, but... docile. Frightened and hurt to the bone and beyond. Obeying not only Malfoy's every command, but seemingly aware of the implications of his every gesture, blue eyes shadowed and downcast.
Percy had been told Lucius had taken his brother from Lestrange and a few other of You-Know-Who's more deranged madmen after a bit of persuasion, and he'd tried very hard not to think about what those monsters might have done to Ron in the weeks between his capture and Malfoy's intervention. It would drive him mad to dwell on it. There was a warped sense of consolation that Malfoy's Fidelius protected Ron from the attentions of his associates even as it hid him away from the world. It was as much safety as Percy had been able to buy. Percy himself had learned the art of surrender at Malfoy's hands early on. He could only hope that it was that same lesson that lay at the core of Ron's submissive behaviour, that he hadn't been broken beyond repair.
Malfoy's hands kept running over Percy's skin, his prick, as if to belie his soft-spoken threats. Percy dug his fingers into the sheets, frightened and unsure of what to do with his hands; he was used to being bound, or just restrained by a command. He longed to touch himself, to put a bit of vigour into the maddening light brushes Malfoy lavished on his groin, but that would invite punishment. He even longed to touch Malfoy, confused by the rare gift of pleasure, but didn't dare to. He could only lie there and shift his hips ever-so-slightly, trying to be as inconspicuous about his frustration as possible.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Percy?" Malfoy inquired silkily, even though the restless movement of Percy's hips must write the answer out for him in glaring letters.
"Yes," Percy whispered, as raw as if Malfoy's hand was again wrapped around his throat. Malfoy graced him with a feral grin and crab-walked his fingers up from Percy's groin to tickle, then twist one of his nipples. Percy moaned before he could catch himself, from the loss of pressure on his cock as much as from the delicious sting. He couldn't fathom what Malfoy was on about, threatening and caressing him in turn, but if this was the prelude to pain, Percy could just as well enjoy it as a good thing for as long as it lasted.
He jumped in surprise when Malfoy lowered his head to suck lightly at his chest until his nipples stood out reddish and hard. Then he leaned up to smirk into Percy's face and snatched something out of the air. Percy gulped as he watched the glittering silver maws titter and snap on Malfoy's palm. Animated only, but the little clamps looked like hungry doxies. They hurt just as much when they bit down, too.
"Your choice," Malfoy murmured and trailed a nail over the vulnerable insides of Percy's thighs, provoking gooseflesh and an embarrassing twitch of his cock.
Percy gnawed the inside of his cheek. He'd worn the clamps before, much larger ones even which had been connected and weighed down by a chain. Malfoy's drawers were certainly well-stocked when it came to tormenting his victims in bed. Then again, it wasn't as if there was a real choice, and it was never wise to cross Malfoy, especially not when he was as erratic as today. He nodded.
"What, pet?"
Percy nearly swallowed his tongue at the endearment, but hurried to reply. "Yes. Put them on me, please."
The little silver beasts quivered eagerly between Malfoy's fingers as he moistened Percy's left nipple with his tongue, blew on it until the nub tightened into a shuddering peak, then let the silver teeth bite down around it. Percy sucked in a hiss of air at the sudden, brilliant burst of pain, and felt it spark something wild inside his groin. His legs splayed open a little more. The second clamp snapped into place without any loving preparation, and this time a low groan escaped Percy's lips.
Malfoy observed the silver ornaments with satisfaction. A spell urged them to more activity, making them gnaw and pull on Percy's poor trapped nipples until he writhed. His cock, however, curved up into Malfoy's palm as if the two had been made for each other.
Sometimes Percy wondered whether Malfoy had infected him with the ability to draw enjoyment from pain during sex, and hated himself for his responsiveness at the man's hands. He certainly had experienced only timid tenderness during his lovemaking with Penelope. He didn't enjoy the pain, or the ropes, or Malfoy splitting his insides apart with his cock. But there was a state of mind - when he was too far gone to think, and scraped too raw inside and out to feel much pain any longer, when calmness wrapped itself around his abused body like a warm blanket, a blank slate that no fear or worry or thought could still touch. He could've died content, in those moments.
His body wasn't willing to pass up on the pleasure, though; it arched a little as Malfoy kept stroking his cock, and he felt his precome wetting the Death Eater's fingers and altering his grip from rough rub to a sinuous, slippery slide. Every time those brilliant fingers brushed the slick mess of his cockhead, or played over the filigree wings of the clamps, his balls tightened painfully. The edge of fear - the sheer unbelievable wrongness of Malfoy jerking him off - almost made his pleasure more intense.
And then Malfoy's thumb pressed into the tender skin right above Percy's left elbow. Searing pain flowered in his arm as the man conjured Percy's makeshift Mark, painting every curve, swirl and slide into his pasty, freckled skin. It was like having acidic slime poured onto his skin that dried into a foul film and was then set on fire.
Malfoy had taken Percy down to the dungeons on the first night after their arrival at the manor, and had used his wand to spell the Mark onto the blistering skin of Percy's arm while he fucked him into the flagstones. Even then, half-delirious with pain and shock, Percy had understood Malfoy's need to leave a mark of power of his own against the choking indignity of having been fitted out with a restraining torque in front of a group of Aurors and Ministry witnesses.
Percy hadn't even known that anyone but the Dark Lord could bestow the Mark, and still wondered whether it was anything like the real thing; it hadn't been brought to life by any of the - rather invasive - physical and magical examinations the Auror Department had subjected him to. Only Malfoy himself could coax it out - and only Malfoy could make it sear and burn and coil inside his blood like a seductive snake, leaving Percy a helpless prey to pleasure as if the ink-black snake slithered out of its skull and transformed into a tendril of lust that rushed right into his cock.
Overcome by want, Percy humped Malfoy's hand shamelessly, and felt the leaden tightness in his balls which howled for release. He knew the punishments for coming without explicit permission all too well, though.
"Please," he begged, hoarse desperation dripping from the syllable.
"Say my name, and you may climax," Malfoy whispered, his breath moist and his mouth almost touching Percy's skin.
Percy stared up at the sharply-defined, hard face, distant like the stars and yet so close to his own, flushed one. His pulse hammered in his throat. In a mad impulse, he reached up to touch Malfoy's pale cheek, curving his sweaty fingers along the man's cool jawline, and whispered, "Lucius."
Malfoy's fingers tightened around his prick, a slick pinch that compressed the wet slit until it gaped like a flower opening for a bee. The touch wrung a whimper from Percy's lips that transformed into a broken chant of "Lucius, Lucius..." like the recurrent waves that lapped the sea to rest.
The blinding shock that leapt through his balls and resulted in a white spill erupting from his cock came almost as a surprise, but with a force that made his eyes roll up in their sockets. He felt his come spurting over Malfoy's fingers, saw bright sparks and lost his breath just as he'd done when Malfoy had cut off his air supply. The murmurs of Lucius' name died in his throat.
For a long minute, the world was far away and washed white, until the roaring tide of culmination quieted in his ears and the painfully knotted muscles relaxed in his calves. Gasping for air, he opened his lips to admit Malfoy's wet fingers. He sucked them into his mouth as delicately as possible, tasting his own fluid. It splashed the colour of shame into his cheeks even as his tongue scraped lightly over the palm of Malfoy's hand. He didn't like the taste, but the gesture was mandatory - Malfoy would accept no less.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Malfoy asked again, huskily in the muffled, breathless silence that had fallen over the room. The tone alone provoked another twitch in Percy's wet, spent cock.
He nodded, and released the long-fingered hand from his lips. "Yes, Lucius."
"And you did ask for permission to see your brother."
Slightly unnerved by the fine smile that kept tugging at the man's mouth, Percy nodded again. "Please."
"All right, then." Malfoy rose and picked up the wand from where it lay next to Percy's discarded glasses on the bedside table. Percy swung his legs off the bed, hoping against hope that he might be allowed a robe for the trip down to the lower wing where Malfoy had lodged Ron. It wasn't likely though - he usually went naked from the moment he got back to the manor right up to his departure for the Ministry. Perhaps it gave Malfoy an added feeling of power.
He made to rise, but Malfoy's hand held him back, a warm weight on his shoulder. Percy's heart sank when Malfoy crouched behind him, draping his long body around him, wand in hand. He much preferred looking at Ron with his own eyes rather than through a magical artefact. Even scrying bowls or spyglasses could be falsified.
For all that Percy wasn't allowed to speak - or show himself - to his brother, he had occasionally been permitted to observe him with one of those magical instruments. Watching Ron with Malfoy always choked Percy with fear, no matter how innocent those scenes looked - he'd seen them play chess, or just sit together in the same room, or, once, Lucius reading in an armchair with Ron sitting at his feet, cheek resting on Malfoy's robe-covered thigh and fast asleep. The intimacy of that last scene still haunted Percy's nightmares.
Malfoy waved Percy's wand at the middle of the room, and again, the air rippled as it had done when the man had first appeared inside. This time, however, Percy realised that it wasn't an effect like air being compressed as it happened with a localised Apparition, but something in the air itself. An iridescent gauze, spanning the whole room, fluttered in the conjured breeze, shimmering in a silver light where it fell into folds.
An invisibility curtain! Percy had seen Invisibility Cloaks on sale at L'Ensorcelle's in Diagon, each of them glowing with its own mystery and priced far beyond his means of a dozen years. This must have taken several cloaks' worth of Demiguise hair to spin, and be beyond priceless.
The whole room seemed to shudder and spin as the fine cloth disengaged from the ceiling, and fell to the ground in cloudy waves.
And then Percy whimpered in terror because the fall of the invisible barrier revealed a leather-upholstered stool in the middle of the room. On the stool, directly facing the bed, sat Ron Weasley, feet drawn up to the footrest, both fists balled and resting on the leather seat next to his hips. He was dressed in the same loose, belted house robe Malfoy favoured, only that Ron's was black.
And his face... Percy blanched, and the urge to throw himself down and hide his face in the pillows and his body under the sheets became overwhelming. But he remained sitting like a stone, Malfoy's arms around his chest, Malfoy's chin on his shoulder, Malfoy's smell clinging to his skin. He'd never been the victim of Petrification, but suddenly knew how Penny must have felt, turning slowly to stone. Ron's eyes were bruised and dark, his face devoid of any expression, but his mouth an eloquent knife-thin line.
The thought that his brother had watched him writhing under Malfoy's hands, that he'd heard him beg and whisper Malfoy's name like a lover, that he'd seen his ultimate surrender...
"Now," Malfoy murmured into his ear from behind, "you were told that you'd be punished, weren't you?"
"That was sickening!" Percy snapped, just as low, but with more fury than he'd dared show the Death Eater before.
"That, my dear Percy," Malfoy ran a finger over Percy's flaccid prick, "-wasn't it. Now, I do think that your poor brother may feel a little left out. I want you to go over to him and pleasure him with all the care you'd show myself."
The sick heave in Percy's stomach intensified. He dug his fingers into the bedclothes. "I will never touch my brother like that, Malfoy!" he snarled, and realised from the way Ron's eyes widened that his expression must have turned into something frightening. Still, he kept his voice quiet enough that Ron wouldn't be able to hear.
"Oh, I think you will," Malfoy cut across his protests. "Because if you refuse, I'll take our little morsel down to the dungeons and fuck him myself. I'm sure he would enjoy that far less than a blowjob from a loving brother."
Over the roar of blood in his ears, Percy protested. "You swore you wouldn't hurt him!"
"This won't hurt him at all - and believe me, he knows what being hurt means; this will only hurt you."
Malfoy grabbed his chin and forced Percy to meet his steely eyes. "Our bargain was that young Ronald would be safe as long as you lived up to your obligations. You haven't. Which means that I don't see why I should." He let go of Percy's face. "Now get over there and suck him."
Percy stared at Ron's crotch, hidden by the smooth silk of his robe, and fidgeted. He'd thought he'd encountered the nadir of Malfoy's depravity when he'd forced Percy's own body to his will, but this... A pleading glance up at the man's implacable face showed him that Malfoy would not relent. Percy fidgeted again.
"A task most efficiently performed on your knees, I'd think," the monster added mildly. And then, when Percy had managed to struggle up to stand on wobbly legs, "Don't speak to him - not a word."
Every inch of Percy's skin was crawling as he stumbled the few steps over to his target. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron, so he stared at the tense arch of his ankles on the footrest of the stool. Ungainly, he lowered himself to his knees before Ron, egotistically wishing for a moment that his brother's mind were truly gone so he wouldn't have to experience this. But when he glanced up, he saw Ron's eyes glued with frightful clarity to the lines of the Mark that still bloomed fat and dark against the pasty skin of Percy's forearm. The sharp line around Ron's mouth deepened, although he said nothing and didn't look away.
Surely, Percy told himself as his hands reached up to undo the loosely-knotted belt of Ron's robe, his brother would know that Percy would never have taken the Dark Mark if there had been any other option, and that he wasn't touching Ron out of cruelty, or to please Malfoy! Then again, Ron had watched him climax in Malfoy's arms, and had been all too ready to believe the very worst of Percy over the past years.
Underneath the flowing robe, Ron was naked just as Malfoy had been. Reluctantly, Percy bared his brother's legs and lower body. He could smell Ron, healthy like freshly-mowed grass, and his skin, Percy discovered as he postponed going for his goal by stroking Ron's thighs, was very soft. Smell and feel reminded him of the tiny bundle he'd dragged around proudly when he'd been a toddler, and Ron just born.
Yet for all his ostensible health, there was something unnatural about his brother. Percy had seen him grow up, all gangly limbs, scraped knees and freckles, and some of that... Ron-ness was lacking. He shoved the robe out of Ron's chest and encountered creamy skin and pronounced, rosy nipples. Percy had read Ron's earlier pallor as a sign of abuse and exhaustion, but now it made him pause. A mild scattering of freckles still circled his nose, but they had practically vanished from his arms, chest and neck. Even Ron's hair was different: longer and more darkly red in place of its normal, carroty colour. His eyes darker.
Percy swallowed hard. He'd heard about those spells - the sort of Dark Arts wizarding mothers warned their daughters against. Artificial beauty that paid no heed to the demands and the uniqueness of the body it altered, draining vitality and magic in equal measure. Rage bloomed in Percy's chest, and only a sudden indraw of breath made him aware that he'd pinched the flesh of Ron's thigh in agitation. He let go and rubbed the angry red spot gently.
Tempting as it was, he couldn't quite convince himself that it had been Malfoy's work - the man had fucked him, Percy, who was if anything even less physically attractive than Ron, for weeks. No, this smacked of a woman's hand - one whose beauty had been ravaged by time and Azkaban. Only Lestrange, Percy thought, shaking with pity for his poor, violated little brother, would make her victims more alluring before setting out to destroy them.
He slipped his fingers between Ron's legs to caress the downy skin at the insides of his thighs, and gratefully watched his brother part his legs at this most minimal of urgings. Ron's compliance was comforting, because Percy wouldn't be able to touch him roughly - there was something too fragile about the way Ron sat on his stool and allowed himself to be fondled and moved about like a puppet.
Against all his better instincts, Percy reached up to where his brother's cock lay nestled against his left thigh, as if trying to hide from prying fingers. He ran the pad of his thumb along the sweaty, half-stiff flesh, at the same time relieved and affronted that Ron showed a reaction. There was something quintessentially wrong about Ron becoming aroused by watching Percy with Malfoy, but then he was also seventeen and perhaps - just like Percy - considered responsiveness the most prudent course of action in order not to incur Malfoy's wrath.
When he lowered his head to nuzzle Ron's pubic hair, the earthy tang of his brother's cock filled his nose, very different from Malfoy's distinct smell, and so essentially Ron that it brought tears to Percy's eyes.
Gingerly, Percy prodded the cock with his index finger before steeling himself and wrapping his hand around the warm, sweaty organ. It twitched a little on his palm as his moist breath ghosted over it. Struggling against the guilt that swept in a sickly wave through his stomach, he gave it a lick. The taste was as earthy as the smell, and salty. Percy felt the reluctant cock harden as he snaked his tongue around it. It took all his courage to draw the tip into his mouth, sucking on the fragrant, spongy flesh.
Ron remained unmoving, sitting as rigid as a statue even as Percy's lips slid up and down his cock, busy recalling all the lessons Malfoy had taught him about this particular activity.
With gentle hands, Percy spread Ron's thighs a bit more on the stool, noticing the way the muscles in his calves had stiffened. Ron's toes were curled tightly around the footrest. Percy reached up to roll smooth, surprisingly delicate balls in the warm cradle of his palm, then slid his fingers behind to lightly press against Ron's perineum. It provoked a stifled gasp, the first sound Ron had made since Percy had seen him. He arched his back a little. Percy slid his lips down to suckle at the swollen head, then risked a peek up into his brother's face - Ron's mouth was open a little, his eyes shut tightly. Percy could only hope that in his mind, his brother was able to replace his mouth with a fantasy in order to escape from the abomination of the act.
Percy's right nipple caught on Ron's bare toes on the footrest, and Percy felt both of them tremble in unison - Ron from he sudden contact with cold metal, Percy because the clamp fluttered its wings and bit down sullenly until shivers travelled up his back. He could almost hear the little thing growl. But when Percy arched his back and accidentally brushed Ron's hand as he tried to hold on to something to distract himself from he sudden pain, Ron pulled away his fingers as if he'd dipped them into acid, and cradled them against his chest.
In retaliation, Percy wrung another soft mewl from his brother when he gave his prick a hollow-cheeked suck, then took it into his throat as deeply as he could, and swallowed around it. He heard the scrape of Ron's nails as they dug into the wooden bottom of the seat, felt the upward strain of his hips and the distinct taste of precome at the back of his throat.
Desperate to end the travesty as quickly as possible, he worked Ron alternately with tongue swipes and deep sucks that almost acquainted the head of his brother's cock with his tonsils, massaging his balls with one free hand until his brother rocked restlessly on his seat, legs splayed wide and near-boneless, soft, pained sounds escaping his throat with every breath. The pale skin of Ron's thighs and abdomen was mottled pink with arousal, his prick red and straining. Hating himself for causing his brother such distress, Percy pinched his calf in impotent anger and swallowed the desperate prick into his throat again.
He felt Malfoy's hand on his back just as Ron twisted forward on his seat, frantically trying to delve deeper into Percy's mouth and nearly falling over in his urgency.
"Enough."
Wide-eyed, Percy let the wet cock slip from his lips and twisted his head around. Ron's groan of helpless protest made the hairs stand up at the back of his neck.
There was a feral light in Malfoy's eyes as he shrugged his robe off his shoulders, revealing pale, smooth limbs and an arrogantly curved cock that had returned to life observing Percy's ministrations. It was already slicked with something, and Malfoy stroked himself provocatively as he took in the perverted scene he'd set up.
"There will be time for the boy later."
He grabbed Percy's shoulders and pushed him back down again, pulling Percy's hips towards him as he knelt down behind him. Malfoy's hands were burning the cool skin of Percy's waist as he positioned himself.
"Why don't you hold on to dear Ronald while I take you," Malfoy snarled and shoved Percy face-first against Ron's stomach, roughly pulling his legs apart for better access while Percy grappled for purchase.
Percy let go of the wooden legs of the stool and wrapped his arms around Ron's middle, holding on for dear life as Malfoy pushed into him in a long, unforgiving thrust that had Percy throwing his head back in agony. Malfoy was lubricated, if not very generously, but having to molest his own brother had chased all after-effects of orgasm from Percy's mind. His inner walls contracted around Malfoy's cock in protest, making the rapid entry hurt even more.
His whine was drowned in Malfoy's satisfied groan. The man pulled out again almost entirely, then gave another shove into Percy's unprepared depths before setting up a cruel rhythm. It felt as if Malfoy was in the grip of some animalistic rut, a single-minded drive for pleasure with no care for the way Percy's back arched with pain, or that Percy's arse downright screamed under the rapid thrusts.
And then he shrieked out loud when Malfoy's fingers found the clamps on his chest and twisted them brutally until the metal teeth bit into the tender flesh deeply enough to draw blood.
Percy buried his face against Ron's hip, his brother's cock pressed against his cheek in a slimy trail of precome. He couldn't stop himself from squirming in the grip of agony and moaning into the sweaty skin, which had to bring even more distress to Ron's aching erection. Percy wondered if his brother could feel his tears wet against his hip, and was able to read them right.
Malfoy fucked him without any care, quick and vengeful and seeming to delight in the way the thrusts were shoving Percy further into Ron. Ron's eyes were open, and had turned so dark they were nearly black, his body a coiled spring of need. Percy tried to cushion him, tried to bear the weight of Malfoy's assault himself, tried to hang on without sobbing too loudly until Malfoy went rigid, digging sharp nails into the quivering skin of Percy's back and flooded his insides with warm, slippery fluid.
He pulled out immediately, sending trickles of come down the back of Percy's thighs, and carelessly wiped his dripping cock on Percy's hip. Percy lay wrapped around Ron's waist, trembling and too weak to work up much indignation as the Death Eater rose to his feet behind him. Without giving him time to catch his breath, Malfoy pulled him away from his brother. The mere movement sent a shock of agony through Percy's arse, and nearly had him collapse on the floor.
Percy raised his head weakly as Malfoy focused his attention back on Ron's rigid body.
"My, it looks as if poor Ronald is in a state indeed." Malfoy smirked as he knotted the belt of his robe while the pink flush was fading quickly on his cheeks. He stood there with a degree of self-possession that implied nothing of importance had happened.
Ron's lower lip was plumped, with teeth marks that spoke of his struggle against orgasm. His prick stood up in a rigid curve towards his stomach, ruddy and swollen and shiny with precome.
"There is no wrong in teaching the young a little bit of restraint," Malfoy said conversationally and stroked the flushed skin of Ron's cheek with long white fingers. "But it would be churlish to let a guest suffer. Though I think we'll leave the choice to you, Ronald. Would you rather have your brother see to your satisfaction, or return with me to your chambers to... take care of matters?" Ron's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, sweat turning his fringe into a dark red. "How about sealing your choice with a kiss, little one?"
Percy flinched at the abruptness with which Ron slipped off the stool, not even lifting a finger to pull the gaping robe around him. He didn't spare a single glance for Percy, but stepped right into the circle of Malfoy's arms and lifted his mouth to Malfoy's lips.
The sight cut Percy like a carving knife opening up his chest cavity; Ron's body, moulding itself against Malfoy's, his mouth half open, searching for the Death Eater's lips like a newborn mouthing against its mother's breast... Malfoy's hand stroking Ron's thigh under the flimsy black robe, Ron dipping his head back to bare his throat for Malfoy's mouth to claim. Percy had to turn his face away to disguise the tears that threatened to spill. He bumped into the bedside table and fumbled for his horn-rimmed glasses to shield his grief.
He hadn't wanted that kiss for himself, truly not, but he wanted to protect his brother, anything but to abandon him into Malfoy's hands. But Malfoy had made sure that Ron would never trust Percy again after this - after seeing him making what looked like love to Malfoy, begging the Death Eater, and then being misused by Percy the way he'd been.
Malfoy pressed another kiss to the boy's temple and threw Percy a horrible, amused look over the top of Ron's red head.
"I think it's time for you to retire to your rooms for the night, Percy. After all, you will have another busy day tomorrow at the Ministry."
A casual gesture, and the winged clamps let go of Percy's nipples. Pain seared through his chest so abruptly that Percy had to stifle a howl against his palm. Like dead insects, they insidious little things clattered to the floor.
Stumbling backwards on icy, bare feet, Percy observed Malfoy's possessive arm around his brother's shoulders, the stark contrast of red, white and black that seemed to tie them together like an abstract painting, the unresisting lines of Ron's body language - Ron, who didn't even bother to look away from Percy, just looked through him as if he'd never existed at all. It took all of Percy's willpower to keep his face from crumbling until he had his back to them both, trying to ignore the drying semen on the backs of his thighs and the squelchy feeling in his arse as he moved. The silvery shroud of the invisibility curtain snagged his ankle as he fled, then let him escape through the door with a silky rustle.
Percy bit down on the side of his hand as he stumbled though the dark corridors on his way back to his room both to fight the burning pain in his lower body and to keep from sinking down against a random wall and throwing up. His shoulders trembled, but the dry sobs seemed unable to find their outlet in tears.
He found his bedroom door and staggered inside, shivering in the spacious darkness. A single line of light still showed at the horizon outside the window. It had only been a few hours, then, if enough to shatter his whole life.
He saw the oval shape of a magical mirror sitting on the desk by the window, mocking him with its presence. It tempted Percy to activate it and look in on Malfoy and Ron. The cool, dark glass projected suggestions of tangled limbs and his brother's dark-eyed, open-mouthed passion. With a feral snarl, Percy swept the priceless artefact off the table, where it shattered in a rain of shards and fizzling flickers of enchanted light.
Oblivious to the glass embedding itself into the soles of his feet, he collapsed beside the bed, shaking with cold. His mind flitted between images - of Ron, of Malfoy, of the Ministry where he would have to dig up something to feed the Dark Lord no matter the cost. He could not, would not allow something like this to happen again!
The Fidelius Charm kept Ron hidden away from the world, accessible only to those to whom his Secret Keeper chose to divulge his presence. Even if Percy confessed his treachery to the Aurors, they wouldn't be able to find Ron. And although after this night Percy knew he'd have all the strength required for the casting of the Killing Curse, Malfoy had warned him very early and in no uncertain terms that - thanks to a slight modification of the Fidelius Charm - any attempt on his, Malfoy's life would end Ron's for good.
Percy would have to return Malfoy's attention to himself, and himself alone. And, he tried to convince himself as he wiped icy palms over his face as if to wash away the day's nightmares, if he did what Malfoy wanted, the Death Eater would not again stray down towards the lower wing that held Ron's prison. He wouldn't need to! A hateful little voice at the back of his head whispered that Percy would never know even if he did, but he quelled it by biting down on his hand again until he tasted salty iron. There was nothing else he could do. He'd surrendered to the Dark Lord's own, and he'd have to play the game out no matter what.
After what seemed like hours, he hoisted himself up and crawled into bed, ignoring the red smears his feet left on the bedclothes. Tomorrow, he'd slip into his new life as a spy for real, and tonight he'd try not to think about what Malfoy was doing to his brother right now, just a few rooms away.
He lay between the costly, crisp silk sheets of his bed - never anything but the best in Malfoy's household - curled in a foetal position with the grassy smell of his brother's skin still in his nostrils and the urgent taste of his brother's cock in his mouth, and cried.
~ finis ~
I'm sitting on quite a handful of reversathon-recs, but I've read so few stories so far that it's not even funny, and my RL workload will probably tie me down for a while yet, so, well, asap :). Browsing the Masterlist is a good idea, though.