The Malfoy Cellar

A/N: I am trying very hard to keep away from fan fiction at the moment, but I simply cannot keep my hands off dear Lucius. He's just too good.

Thanks to Neko Mata and Apple Blossom for beta reading.

And thanks to you for reading. I hope you will enjoy this little piece of filth.

I tilt the glass and behold the colour of the wine. It is dark red like your lips, promising the sweetness of a sensuous kiss.

I swirl the glass and then lift it up, watching the wine slowly run back down the inside of the glass. The light of the torches on the wall reflects in the legs of the wine, and I am reminded of your hair. Just as red, just as fiery.

Holding the glass a few inches from my nose, I take a sniff. Your hair had smelled of vanilla earlier tonight, and I detect a similar sweetness in the wine, combined with dark chocolate and spices, and I long to bury my face in your locks, to inhale your sweet scent.

I take a sip and roll the wine around in my mouth, exposing it to all my taste buds. Once more I am reminded of you. The passionate kiss we shared in the dark alley behind the pub had tasted just as sweet. But no wine in this world can heat my blood the way you do.

Ah, that pub. Seedier a place has rarely been visited by a Malfoy. But if one has business to attend to and if one's associate shies away from daylight, one has to oblige. But the wine had been sour and my associate late, and I had just been about to leave again when a familiar whisper had tickled my ear.

'Tut, tut, Mr Malfoy. Isn't such plonk somewhat below your standards?'

I lifted my gaze from the vinegar-like substance in my glass and looked to my right just quickly enough to see you slip onto the stool next to me. You were wearing a ridiculously low-cut blouse and a flowing black skirt. In your hand, you held a glass filled with a substance quite similar to the one in mine. You took a sip and wrinkled your pretty little nose.

'Even I can tell that this is not suitable for drinking.'

I smiled at your comment and gave the vile substance in my glass another chance just to realise that it would never do. And while I was content with just pushing my glass away, you actually had the cheek to pour the contents of yours into a flower vase.

'I wonder if there is even any point in trying to order something else,' you mused, craning your neck. 'That bottle of red over there looks quite dusty. Wonder if it's because the wine in it has matured for a century or because it's so vile that no one would touch it.'

'If you are interested in tasting good wine,' I replied, absent-mindedly caressing the handle of my cane, 'I know a place.'

'And where would that be, Mr Malfoy?' you asked, tilting your head slightly and giving your empty glass a contemptuous look. 'The Leaky Cauldron?'

'Not even close.'

I reached over to take the glass from your hand and peered deeply into your blue eyes. 'My cellar, dearest heart,' I whispered, 'holds pleasures you cannot even imagine.'

'Does it now?'

You cocked an eyebrow at me, and when your lips parted into a smile, the tip of your tongue flicked over your upper lip ever so quickly, and I couldn't help but take a firmer grip around the handle of my cane. I remember all but too well what that little tongue of yours is capable of.

I told you to leave and wait for me in the alley behind the pub. We couldn't leave together, of course. In seedy places like this, one never knows who finds someone else's business more interesting than their own. And I for one have a reputation to guard.

I did pay for the wine, even if I thought that I should have been the one to be compensated for having sullied my mouth with that beverage, and gave the barman another handful of Galleons for his silence. Should someone ask, he wouldn't have seen me that night. And neither would he have seen you.

Once out in the alley, I found you lazily leaning against the stone wall. You had wrapped a delicate shawl around your naked shoulders, and your right foot was propped up on a Butterbeer crate. That was when I noticed your boots: black leather, high-heeled, laced, and reaching all the way up to your knees. A most delicious sight.

I sauntered closer, the clicking of my boots and cane echoing through the otherwise silent alley, and you looked at me, quite impassive, as if you hadn't been expecting me at all.

'Good evening, my lady,' I greeted you, deciding to play along. 'What drives a dazzling creature like you out into the darkness on a moonless night like this?'

'A longing for delicious wine and unimaginable pleasures,' you replied in a half-whisper, your eyes slightly narrowed and you head tilted to the side as if your were assessing me. 'Does the good sir know where a girl like me could obtain such things?'

'As for the delicious wine, my lady, I doubt you will find it around here,' I replied, stepping in front of you, gazing into your eyes. 'The unimaginable pleasures, however ...'

With the speed of a Firebolt, I reached out for you, pulling you into a tight embrace, claiming kisses from you which you were only too willing to give. You moaned into my mouth as our tongues entwined, and your hands on my backside urged me to press myself even closer against you. Oh, the angle you presented with your right foot propped up onto that crate.

The promise of wine all but forgotten, I pulled up your skirt with one hand, wedging the other between us, just to find that you – once more – were not wearing any knickers. I wasn't even surprised. In fact, any piece of fabric I had found obstructing my way would have been both an annoyance and a slight disappointment. After all, I had sent you out ahead of me and expected you to be ready for me once I joined you.

And ready you were, by Merlin. Hot and wanting I found you, and you grinded yourself against my hand, still moaning deliciously into my mouth, while your little fingers nimbly unbuttoned my robes to free my erection that was just as ready for you as you had been for me.

Quite unceremoniously, I pushed you tightly against the wall, lifting your right leg until it was wrapped around my waist and thrust into you, exhaling forcibly through my nose. So tight, so hot, and had you been anyone else, one of the prostitutes that are quite frequently banged against the walls of this alley in a similar fashion, I wouldn't have cared less and just driven on, concerned with nothing else but my own needs. But you weren't just anyone, dearest heart, for certain not a cheap tart, and making you come undone has so far almost been as delightful as my own orgasm. So I slowed down my movements, giving you time to adjust. You, however, seemed to have had different plans, and once more, I felt your hands on my backside, urging me to come closer, urging me to take you properly. Needy little witch. Naturally, however, I obliged.

Picking up your other leg, I spread you wide, pinning you to the wall with my upper body, and thrust into you with short, powerful movements, enjoying the shudder that went through your body every time I filled you, hoping you wouldn't take long to reach your peak. Not that I didn't enjoy our little encounter, dearest heart. Far from it. But would much rather have bedded you on satin and silk instead of taking you against a cold stone wall.

As usual, you didn't disappoint. When I sank my teeth into your neck, I felt your embrace tighten around me, your body go rigid in my arms and your muscles contract around me as if your were planning to milk me of the very last drop of essence I had to offer. And I let you, spurting load after load into your tightness, growling into your ear while you whimpered softly, still clinging to me as if you were afraid that I'd disappear.

We stayed like this for some moments, hugging each other tightly, until our breathing had calmed down and I dared to put you back onto your feet without fearing that you would fall. Then I pulled out my wand to clean the mess we had made, at the same time casting yet another charm, making sure that one would last all night.

Flattening your skirt and running a hand through your slightly dishevelled hair, you tilted your head once more.

'I hear the wine stored in the cellar of Malfoy Manor is the stuff of legends,' you pointed out, looking at me as innocently as if butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. 'Or is that just a rumour?'

Cheeky little thing.

I offered you my hand, and you took it, and I pulled you in like a dancer pulls in his partner on the dance floor. I had caught you unawares, and you stumbled, falling giggling against my chest where I wrapped you into my cloak. And once more promising you that my cellar held more pleasures than just delicious wine, I pulled you into the vertiginous spiral of Apparition. And here we are now, in my cellar, tasting a bottle of the finest elf-made wine. Or at least, I am tasting a bottle of the finest elf-made wine. You, on the other hand, seem to have wandered off, taking your glass with you but leaving behind your silken shawl. Better go looking for you. Wouldn't want you to get lost in the darkness or run into something your heavenly blue eyes are not supposed to see.

I take a last sip of the wine and then pick up your shawl to bring it to my nose. It smells of vanilla, just like the wine, just like your hair. Certainly, nothing in my cellar carries as sweet a scent. It should be easy enough to follow it. And I am sure it will lead me to you, just like Ariadne's thread lead Theseus through the labyrinth of the Minotaur.

Letting your shawl run through my hands, every now and then lifting it to my face to remind myself of your scent, I wander through the many rooms of my cellar. I need no torch, as I know these rooms like the back of my hand. Many a secret have I hidden down here, as had my father and his father before him. But surely, neither of them had ever hidden a secret as sweet as you, dear heart.

Now, where are you hiding?

I turn around another corner, your shawl still in my hands, and I am just about to give up and draw my wand to find you with the help of a well-placed spell when I hear the most peculiar sound. Are these moans I hear?

I slow down my steps and sharpen my ears. Yes, these are moans. Your moans, dearest heart. I recognise them quite easily. How many a night have I not heard them in my dreams and awoken with a hunger no other but you could satisfy?

Whatever are you doing?

I take my bearings. The corridor to the left leads to a room where I keep certain items certain Aurors would kill to find in my possession. But the entrance to that room in charmed, and had the enchantments be lifted, I would know. So there, dearest heart, you are not. The corridor to the right leads to the old torture chamber, and as much as the idea of you in chains arouses me, I doubt you found anything there that would make you moan as deliciously as you are now. You must be straight ahead then, I conclude, and continue walking. And indeed, your moans grow louder, and as I come closer, I see the door ajar. It leads to a storage room, I'm sure. What, by Merlin, could you have found you there to arouse you thus?

Silently, I approach the door and peek inside the room. It is dimly lit by a torch, and my eyes take a moment or two to adjust. And when they do, I can almost feel my pupils widen, and my jaw drops. There stands my beloved writing desk, along with my chair and the carpet. The white sheet the desk has been covered with is now lying on the floor and has been replaced with nothing less than your skirt. And out from under the smooth fabric stick a pair of boots and a pair of milk white thighs ...

Heavens, what a sight! You are lying on you back with your red hair fanned out behind you. Your blouse is unbuttoned, your voluptuous breasts exposed and your legs parted, the heels of your boots digging into the varnish of the desk.

I feel an electric jolt go through my body, and my semi-hard cock springs into full attention at the sight of you. You are most obviously ready to be taken and just waiting for me to come to you, and I am just about to step out of the shadows of the corridor when it hits me: I have heard you moaning. And now I find you here, all exposed and all alone. Have you abandoned me and mine wine in order to satisfy yourself? Are my services not appreciated anymore?

A wave of annoyance washing over me, I once more attempt to step into the room, this time in order to demand an explanation, but once more, I find myself rooted to the spot, mesmerised by what I see. Your right hand, earlier hidden in the folds of your skirt, is now caressing the inside of your thigh and gliding ever higher, ever closer to your glistening core.

You draw your fingertips along your swollen lips, and I see you shiver. And when you place a finger on either side of your clit and moan softly, any anger I might have harboured against you only moments earlier is blown away. There is no chance that I will trample into the room, demanding an explanation. Instead, I very much intend to enjoy the show.

Tearing my eyes away from your fingers, I let them wander up your body, over your flat tummy to your breasts where I catch sight of your other hand that is fondling one of your delicious orbs. Your fingers are glistening, and I imagine that you have licked them. The thought makes my cock twitch. I remember what you can do with your tongue and lips. Merlin, I long to feel them against my skin.

A deep moan rips me out of my reverie, and I return my gaze to your core just quickly enough to see you plunge a finger into your tight wetness, and I have to bite my lips to keep myself from moaning. How I want to step between those inviting thighs of yours, drop to my knees and see from up close how you finger eases in and out of you, all the while the ball of your thumb is resting on your clit, applying pressure every time you fill yourself. But I cannot come close. What I am witnessing here is worth a fair amount of the gold from my Gringott's vault, and as much as I long to replace your finger with my cock, I want to see more. I need to see more! Thus, I watch you play, listen to your moans and get lost in the memory of me taking you roughly on the very desk you are lying on. And while I watch you, my hand wanders to my crotch, and I start massaging my erection through the fabric of my robes.

When a second of your fingers joins the first and you pick up the pace, I gasp. The now almost desperate rocking of your hips is mesmerising and the sounds that escape your lips enough to compel me to unbutton my robes and take hold of my throbbing cock, and I stroke it in the very same rhythm in which you thrust your fingers into yourself and imagine that I am deep inside you and that your muscles are contracting around me.

When a shudder goes through your body and your hips lift slightly from the surface of the desk, I feel my balls tighten up, and when you call out my name, thrashing your head around in ecstasy, I come undone in my own hand, moaning loudly and now no longer caring whether you notice me standing in the doorway. I have not had a wank as good as this one since my school years, and by the gods, I think you're entitled to know that you're responsible for my pleasures.

The sensation is almost too much, however, and as I grow dizzy, I close my eyes for a moment as not to pass out. When I open them again, I find that you have turned your head and are looking straight at me, with a smile on your lips and a twinkle in your blue eyes that could rival Dumbledore's any day.

'I see you enjoyed watching,' you comment in a husky tone.

'You knew I was here?'

'I hoped you would be.'

You let your left hand glide over the smooth surface of the desk while the fingers of your right hand lazily play with the soft red curls between your legs.

'I couldn't resist the charm of this desk,' you explain. 'Brings back memories, doesn't it?'

I just nod. I feel that the blood has not just yet returned to my head, and I dare not make any more advanced movement.

'That afternoon you taught me what the expression being fucked senseless really implies, Mr Malfoy,' you declare, and your voice becomes almost dreamy. 'And I don't know how many a night I dreamt of our encounter, waking up all alone with the blood pulsating between my thighs and my whole body aching for your touch.'

'And how did you soothe your ache?' I asked with a slightly hoarse voice.

You smile again, and I see your hand glide further south. 'Need you ask?'

I most certainly do not. I have already seen that your nimble fingers know how to give pleasure. And I cannot tear my eyes away from your hand as your fingers once more part your lips, and I am now very certain that there is not a single drop of blood left in my head. Instead, it's already filling my cock again.

'How do you soothe your aches at night, Lucius?' you whisper, and the hair on my neck stands up as if you were standing right behind me, softly blowing on my hot skin. 'Do you ever dream of me?'

'I most certainly do, dearest heart,' I admit, and it's not even a lie. I don't need to lie to you nor flatter you. I know already how much you ache for me and that I have to do nothing more than wink to have you part your legs for me. But so far, flattery has never hurt anyone. 'I dream of you quite frequently,' I declare. 'But no dream could ever exceed reality.'

'Do you ache for me?' you ask, shuddering slightly and giving a small yelp as you penetrate yourself with two fingers.

I nod and am once more mesmerised by your ministrations. And once more I start stroking my hardening cock in the same rhythm as you ease your fingers in and out of your hot tightness.

'And how do you soothe your ache?' you ask. 'Will you show me?'

I cock an eyebrow in surprise. I've had my fair share of women, women of all sorts. Some came to me of their own free will, others were forced; some enjoyed my ministrations and others not quite as much; some were passive and others enjoyed a more dominant role. But never before has any women asked me to pleasure myself in front of her. But you, dearest heart, are a cheeky little witch. I have known that since you asked me if I were a better kisser than the boys on the dance floor right outside the walls of Hogwarts. And just as I rose to the challenge then, I rise to it now.

'Do you remember our encounter in Fudge's office?' I ask, and judge by your blushing cheeks that you remember it just as well as I do. Oh, what a morning that was! I fingerfucked you right behind the Minister's back, and you impaled yourself on my fingers in a similar fashion that you are impaling yourself now on the edge of my old writing desk.

'I kept your knickers,' I continue. 'They helped me through many a lonely night. But alas, they are safely locked away in my private chambers. I think, however, that this will work as a substitute.'

I have almost forgotten that I am still holding your shawl in my hand, and I lift it to my nose now, inhaling deeply. Oh, how I long to bury my face between your legs. I know that the scent of your sex is even more intense and that you taste like the most delicious fruit.

I see you bite your lip, and the way the muscles move in your hand tell me that your fingers are now making a beckoning movement, massaging the special spot inside you which I have found and caressed so many times. If you continue, you will come undone much sooner than I.

I fully unbutton my robes, caressing my exposed skin with your shawl. It's a sensuous feeling, and I very much hope we will have the time and strength later to make other good use of this shawl. I bet I can make you scream with lust if I caress you in the right places with this delicate piece of fabric. I could, of course, also tie you up with it and tease you until you beg me to take you. Would you enjoy that, dearest heart? I must admit, the thought alone makes my cock twitch, and I take a firm hold of it with my right hand while I let my left caress my balls with your shawl.

A moan escapes my lips. I enjoy the soft fabric around my balls very much, almost as much as I would enjoy the tip of your tongue tickling me. But I am too far gone to have the patience to caress myself thus. My cock is throbbing in my hand, and I long for release. And the hungry look in your eyes tells me that you wish to see me spurt my seed into my hand, too. And your wish, dear heart, is my command. As always.

I stroke myself slowly and with a hard grip. Up and down, up and down, the whole length, yet carefully avoiding the sensitive tip. I want you to become aware of my size, want you to remember how it felt the last time I thrust into you up to the hilt. I want you to long for me to fill you again, and judging from your reaction, you are longing indeed. The two fingers that have massaged your G-spot earlier have now vanished into your juicy tunnel. And you are rocking against the ball of your thumb as if your life depended on your orgasm. And as much as I want to close the distance between us and once more fuck you senseless, as you put it so nicely, I remain standing in the door, stroking myself. You set up the rules for this game yourself, dearest heart. Now we have to play by them.

'Tell me what you're thinking of, Lucius,' you whisper, your voice hoarse and shaky. 'I need to know.'

'I'm thinking about how you feel around my cock, how your muscles contract around me when you come and how I can feel your sex pulsate against my fingers,' I declare, watching you rub your clit now quite frantically. 'And I am thinking about how I continue driving into your, harder and deeper, until you are begging me to stop.'

'No. No! Don't stop.'

Your plea is almost desperate, and I can hear in your voice that you are right on the edge. And I myself am not far from my peak either.

'Come for me, witch,' I growl, closing my hand around the tip of my cock and stroking it with short, quick movements. 'Come for me, and let me hear it.'

Your fingers are quick, and you know exactly what to do to bring yourself to an earth-shaking orgasm. And as you come, your whole body trembling, you call my name over and over again, and I release my juices into my hand once more, holding onto the doorframe for dear life. I am panting and trembling just as you are, and I doubt that either of us has ever come that hard without even being touched by someone else.

'For the love of Merlin, witch,' I hiss, and let myself fall against the doorframe, my cock still in my hand and my eyes closed. I hate to admit it, but three mind-blowing orgasms in less than two hours may be the limit for a man my age. You, however, seem to think more of me.

As I open my eyes, I find you kneeling in front of me, and I manage to focus my gaze just enough to see your little pink tongue dart out between your lips and start licking my cock and fingers, lapping up every last drop of my essence. I feel my cock twitch and see you grin up at me, your red lips glistening with my juices.

'I think,' you start, taking your shawl from my hand and wrapping it playfully around your neck, 'that I have seen a stretching rack in a chamber down the corridor. Maybe, Mister Malfoy, you should have a lie-down.'