Title: My Father Loves Me
Author : Rube ( [email protected])
Rating : NC-17
Pairing : Draco/Lucius (Slash, Incest)
Category : Angst/Drama
Summary : This is the new backstory to "Sooner or Later," and takes the place of "Like Father, Like Son." I have decided to completely redraft "Forsaken," (what I have of it) and, as expected, that will change, too.
Disclaimer : Thanks to Aspen, for her. encouragement during the gods, was it half an hour? Twenty minutes? It took to write this fic. :)

My Father Loves Me

I once asked my father if he loved me. I was laughed at in return, sent back to my own bed and told that I had drunk too much punch. I reconciled it, saying to myself that I had startled him into laughter. My father didn't deal well with sentiment, not at all, and I had foolishly prompted him to say something he couldn't admit to.

Of course my father loves me. He loves me as a son, as a mutual, as a pupil and.. even as a lover. But Malfoy's do not take lovers. They take slaves. They take unwilling slaves and bestow them with affection and promises and kind words until the slaves think they have been salvaged, that they have been made an equal. Made into a partner, a lover. But only later do they realize, when dumped out onto the street or starved for days in a dungeon, that they were a helpless pawn and nothing more than a useful cock or cunt. A toy, a game. A trick.

I am not a toy, or a trick, or a game. I am my father's son, and he loves me. He told me about as much, the first time he took me. Ah, the first time. The times I've spent with my father, in his bed and mine and all the places in between, the times seemed to have blurred together over the years, to become one giant map of rutting, pale flesh. The first time was unremarkable, save for the pain. But my father loved me, because he whispered in my ear how I was so beautiful and how I made his cock so hard and my little hole was so tight and I felt perfect. That I was perfect.

I look a good deal like my father, and my father takes great pride in his appearance. Grey, heavy eyes and an angular face, topped with an astonishingly beautiful silvery-head of hair. Mine is short, his is long. He wears reading glasses, too, and I don't. But I do look an awful lot like him. My father must love the look of me, because he likes to watch me masturbate myself in front of him. He calls it looking into a mirror. I do look a lot like him.

Sometimes he likes to have other people fuck me, as well. This has only happened a few times, and usually its some servant or other, roped in with promises of time off or extra pay. I think about it now, and realize that they have whored for the purpose of my father's pleasure. For my pleasure. I guess.

I do love my father, too. He loves me so very much. He spends hours making me come, making me cry. He said he loves to watch me cry, that it reminds him that I am truly his son. This confuses me. I was told Malfoy's were never to cry. But he told me that when he's fucking me, when he has me bent over his desk or the dining room table and his hand strays to the letter-opener or the dinner knife and he gashes those pretty red lines all over me that I need a mirror to see.. well. He says my tears taste like come.

He loves me so much he's jealous by the thought of others touching me. Once, when I was in third year, my cousins came to visit, and Jonas, who is a year older than me and so beautiful I could scarcely stand it, was around me quite a bit. Father said I was mooning over him, that I was disgusting, that he was my cousin and didn't I know better? He told me that if I was going to be a faggot and whore myself to some AIDS ridden fool that I should get out of his house.

He was so angry. I was so bad for lusting after Jonas. It was crazy and sickening. I know now I'm not allowed or entitled to even think of Jonas in that way, and in doing so I'm not clean for my father.

I want to be clean for my father. Cleanliness is next to godliness, or so they say, and I want to be as perfect, as pristine, for my father as I was during our first time. He told me I was so tight he could barely fit inside of me, and I want so desperately for him to moan like he did that first time. I want to be clean for my father.

He loves me so much that he's kissed me in front of my mother. I consider that more proof than anything he could have done. They were fighting about something, estate problems most likely, and he dragged me from where I was passing by in the hallway and slammed me up against the wall, plundering my mouth and caressing my cock through my pants.

He loves me enough to take care of my wounds after we've coupled. He draws me into his arms, and with his wand and lips and bony fingertips heals the jagged, cut flesh and melts the bruises away until they are nothing but seamless, smooth pale skin. He tells me that though he relishes the look of me like that, I can't look so delicious for everyone else. All those fucking queers would take me and rape my body.

"Daddy," I whispered to him, tucked deep within his embrace. "Do you love me?"

A short bark of laughter escalated to convulsions and it jarred me into a fully awake state. He gave me a rough shove off of my bed. "Go back to your own bed, Draco. You've drunk too much punch again." I blinked, startled, but grabbed up my robe and walked silently out of my room. I didn't want to make him angry.

My father's laughter followed me out.

I curled up on my bed, still covered with his come and stunned almost to the point of tears. My father loves me, he just doesn't want to admit it. He's afraid. He's afraid of rejection. Or possibly...

My father loves me, he just doesn't know it.

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