Word Count: 1000
Summary: Lucius wrought the chains that now hold him.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers, including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thank you, eeyore9990, for beta'ing. This fic, my first daily_deviant (@ IJ) offering, is a piece of pure fan-service involving shiv5468's OT3, and it is dedicated to her with my compliments.
The chains were cold, heavy; they held him, fast, to the wall, his arms above his head, his legs spread. This wedding night was nothing like the one he'd shared with Narcissa, but Lucius didn't want to think of her. Narcissa had been frigid and suffocating; his new bride—and groom—possessed the gift of masterdom that he craved, the lecherous skill that Narcissa had lacked, and the dedication to his cock that he had always desired.
His cock, too, was bound, but it, with soft leather straps that folded his shaft down over his bollocks to prevent its full engorgement. It felt as if it would burst, and the sensation of Hermione's fingertips sliding over the sparse hairs on his separated and restricted testicles only increased that feeling.
He loved it. He loved them, as well, although not even bondage could compel him to admit it. But they knew what he felt, what he needed, and that they longed to give it to him was enough for them all.
Undeniably, it was magnificent to find himself so gloriously helpless, controlled by two biddable masters, after spending so many years shackled by his own lack of foresight to a genocidal maniac incapable of controlling. The only thing Lucius wished to manage in this moment, in fact, was Severus' seemingly mocking distance from his position on the wall.
Why do you make me wait, you bastard? Haven't I given you everything?
As if in reply to his thought, Severus almost purred, "Lucius looks thoroughly debauched, doesn't he? Yet we've barely begun to celebrate."
"Not thoroughly," Hermione replied. "He'd be making more noise, I think, if that were true."
"Oh!" Lucius gasped, as Hermione struck his cock.
"Better," she murmured, as if to an indulged pet, "but I wonder if I should allow such vocal displays?"
The look in her eyes told Lucius that she craved them. It was gratifying, but it made him want to remain silent—if only to coax Severus into paying him more attention.
Bored already are you, Severus? Lucius wondered, with, of course, no true insecurity.
Malfoys were nothing if not confident.
Hermione knelt before Lucius, removing her teasing hand and replacing it with her tongue; the sensation was hot, painfully pleasurable, and almost too much to bear. Lucius couldn't help it, he struggled.
So undignified, he thought, examining the floor lest he find disappointment in Hermione's gaze.
For so many reasons, she desired breaking his will of an evening in a leisurely manner.
The chains moved then; Lucius found himself being lowered slowly to his knees. When he looked up, it was to see that Severus had finally moved near—to present his swollen, leaking prick for Lucius' attention.
"Suck," Severus demanded, jutting his hips forward.
Almost too thick to take—thank Salazar for magic at other, more demandingly intimate moments—Lucius stretched his lips around the protuberant head and slowly leaned into a suck, sliding the flat of his tongue down the underside of the salty flesh with the steady pressure that he knew Severus enjoyed.
Musky heat assailed Lucius' senses. His head swam. He hummed with the effort of pleasing Severus.
When did I first know? Know that I wanted this, wanted you, wanted you both?
Certainly the "charms" of Narcissa Black had never been so inspiring.
"Stop thinking of her," Hermione chastised him, pulling the restrictive strings binding his shaft away from his body.
"FUCK!" Lucius shouted, desperate to come, but the clever clamping spell set at the base of his cock prevented his orgasm. Please! "Fuck me, damn you!"
"There will be no fucking, not yet," Severus answered, his voice hoarse in reprimand. "I want to taste you before taking your arse."
With no other warning than this, the chains jerked Lucius up and then upside down, and then moved in such a way as to position his torso forward into the air.
How does Severus do that?
It was as if Lucius were being cushioned by the air, and perhaps he was. He didn't truly know or care. Mercifully, his wrists and ankles were free of chafing and pain. He knew that spell to be one of Hermione's.
He forgot about Hermione's cleverness, however, as Severus presented himself, nude, in an impatient hover above him.
"And that's clever, too. Why've you never done this before?" Lucius managed to ask, but then all questions left him as Severus' mouth closed over his cock and sucked it to the root. In lustful relief, Lucius took Severus' thrusting cock above into his mouth before he could cry out again and worked it as ferociously as he could, not wanting to come before his husband did.
Won't last long. Can't.
He was proven right when one small, lubricated finger of his wife's pressed itself into his arse and stroked his prostate in time with Severus' rhythmic suction of his cock.
It wasn't a sound that Lucius had ever made before, and it was cut short as Severus came and Lucius found himself swallowing and swallowing and swallowing, swallowing so greedily, so as not to choke. His world became centred on taking everything Severus could give, feeling every crook of Hermione's finger, and then he came undone as he felt the sudden, shocking absence of the clamping spell on the base of his cock.
Hermione's massage didn't stop, and his second orgasm rendered Lucius incapable of anything other than a wordless, open-mouthed scream of pure, lust-soaked joy.
Shuddering through shocks of pleasure, Lucius felt his matrimonial chains fall away and the warm hands of his spouses pulling him into a pile of moist limbs. Somehow, he managed to achieve Hermione's breasts as a pillow, and Severus' chest as a headboard of sorts, as he surrendered to the welcome lull of post-coital ease on the pillow-soft, Transfigured stones of the Malfoy dungeon.
A surge of uncharacteristic glee spread through him as he realised that they had yet to actually fuck, and Lucius drifted off, thinking, Second marriages—can't recommend them enough.