Entry tags:

fandom, lucius malfoy, rp samples

:: rp sample - lucius malfoy ::

:: background ::
Scene is from a post-DH game - canon to DH in most events and information but without the deaths beyond Voldemort's.

:: scene ::
WHO: Lucius, Narcissa
WHERE: Malfoy Manor
WHEN: Thursday, 15 February, 2001; very early a.m.
SUMMARY: After their gala, Narcissa follows gifts, and her 'anonymous' Valentine, about the Manor. Completed threaded play.
RATING: PG-13 to slight R for content in the below log; was cut here as what follows had explicit adult content at the end, but was completed.


Though the hour heralding the end of 'Valentine's Day' had passed and the invited guests were now gone from the Manor, for Narcissa and Lucius, the evening would soon prove to still be young. Lucius had been absent since shortly before Narcissa was finished issuing instructions for the house-elves for the night, so alone she had retired to their bedroom for her nightly routine, the first of which was always writing in her journal. She had kept a journal for most of her life and until recently had continued to prefer the traditional journals she had used over the years to the new, connected journals because of a lingering suspicion as to security, but her additional, custom spellwork on the new journal was flawless, so the comfort with using it had increased.

Tonight it would be the new journal she used for, upon opening the drawer in her vanity, she had found a tastefully wrapped box atop the journals. It had been... too long, really, since Lucius has last left gifts hidden at all. It was an old game, to be certain, but one that had not been played in some time. It delighted her more than she could express to see it resume, not for the presents, but for what it meant about the man leaving them. The end of the war had buried many of those private parts of him he showed only to her and the slow return of his playfulness had been one she long mourned.

As the exchange continued, a pleased and expectant smile spread over her usually impassive features, the type of expression directed at very few and seen by only a small list of individuals. Though the years had done much damage, had strained many things, it had not killed the part of her that could still react with breathless anticipation, that still responded like a young woman in love. Still in her gown for the gala, the heavy skirts following the sway of her hips with a gentle swishing sound, Narcissa swept into Lucius' study to discover this next 'anonymous' gift.

The house was too big, Lucius decided. While a large stately manor was needed to uphold the Malfoy name and appearances, it was times like these that made Lucius wish that they lived in a little cottage that would let her appear in his study instantly...not that he would ever voice such a silly thought.

Everything about him was teasing and playful in that moment, despite the fact that he was still unhappy about the person teasing Narcissa about him in the journals. It wasn't that he FELT particularly jovial, because the weight of the war and the lingering resentment at being Potter's charity case was still there, but today wasn't about that. Today was Valentine's day, one of the first in recent memory where he felt like a man and not just some thing to be sneered down upon by the worthless scum of wizarding society, and he was going to make it memorable to her. So he was perched atop his desk, barely sitting on the edge of it with a small box in his hand and a smile on his face. Waiting, hoping, and anticipating the least noise or indication that his Narcissa was coming in.

It was the smile that Narcissa saw first, one that made her breath catch in a way that pressed creamy skin tightly against the low, but not indecent, cut of the bodice of her gown. It was not a social smile, cold and remote, or a dangerous smile, one that was meant to strike worry or fear into whomever it was directed toward, but a genuine one of open mischief and pleasure. So rare, especially in recent years, and so very treasured. She closed the door behind her, a wave of her hand locking it securely as she gazed at him, her smile that mirrored his just as rare.

Yes, the war had ended over two years ago, but that had not meant everything was once more perfect. There had been investigations and trials, ridiculously invasive things that exposed their lives to others, and then there was the time that followed, the time that continued even now, where those lesser felt free to treat them however they wished because they feared no retribution from the Malfoys, who, they reasoned, could never retaliate with the Dark Lord gone and a freedom that had been given by the words of Harry Potter and could be taken away.

There had not been much to smile about in all of that, that was certain.

Right now, however, there was, for with the locking of the door, the world was left outside. She crossed the room to him, standing just within arms reach of him and the gift, and nodded to his hands.

"I believe that is for me?" she said, a slightest light of a question in the soft tone of her voice, a question expressed only for his game for she was under no confusion as to whom that present belonged to, none whatsoever.

About to simply give her the present, Lucius changed his mind at the last moment. His smile growing a bit wider and his eyes more mischievous. "Perhaps...though whoever left it was far too careless. It seems there's no name on the box. Now, I can wager a guess as to who it's for, but it would only be a guess, and this present looks too important to guess about."

He reached his hand out, offering it to her. "Who do you think that it's for, Narcissa? That mysterious admirer of yours has been leaving quite a few things around the house. Perhaps we should put a stop to it, people littering little boxes unexpectedly over the house. It's hardly..." the corners of his lips twitched. "becoming is it?"

Lips twitching slightly at the corners in threat of a wider smile, Narcissa took a step closer, then one more so her legs brushed his briefly. Like this, so carelessly lounging against his desk with a purpose in his eyes that was far from carelessly at all, the epitome of pureblooded perfection with an air that spoke of quiet power, he was without a doubt magnificent. She felt her response to the sight in the quickening of her pulse and the uneven inhalation and exhalation of her breath.

"No," she agreed softly, blue eyes alight with that same spirit he showed, "it is not becoming at all, this childish game between adults. I suspect that is what my admirer enjoys about it so very much."

She took the box then, but not before lingering in touching him, her elegant, slender fingers sliding along the length of his hand from wrist to fingertip with a light touch. Though meant to entice him, it was not without pleasure for her, the familiar sensation of skin on skin and all its promise mixing with the anticipatory feelings that had previously made her heart beat quicker.

Lucius's eyes narrowed when she took the box. However, unlike the other times when he narrowed his eyes, times when looks of suspicion or displeasure or unhappiness crossed his face, this time was because a rather large smirk had washed over his face. While some might have thought his wife an icy woman (and the more who thought that the better, as far as Lucius was concerned) he knew differently, and he relished that private fiery side that so few knew. She also knew exactly what she was doing.

Waiting for her to open the box, one which contained of all things a small golden key, Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're afraid to see what sorts of childish games this admirer is playing. Are you afraid that you'll start to enjoy them?"

The box nested in her palm, Narcissa's chin lifted at the remark, lips quickly set to a thin, almost disapproving line that hid the true nature of her bow-shaped mouth. The affectation of her façade, that of the untouchable ice queen, was flawless in feature, spoiled only by the fact it did not even touch the amusement in her eyes.

"I am never afraid," she said, stepping one step closer so she stood now between his legs, the expression slipping away as she did, "certainly not of secretive creatures who skulk about my home leaving boxes wherever they please."

Lifting off the top of the small box, she set it aside, then set the bottom aside as well once she held the contents of the present, turning the golden key this way and that with interest. Her curiosity had certainly been peaked. Her gaze lifted to his, question clear.

"What do you suppose I am to do with this?" she murmured.

Lucius only barely managed to suppress a laugh. "Forgive me if I am wrong, for certainly no skulking admirer, but I have heard that most use keys like that one to open things. Doors, safes, other miscellaneous things...all of them require a key to pick their locks. One would suppose that the more appropriate question would be not what YOU were supposed to do with it, but what the key was supposed to do for you."

His little chiding speech said, he did laugh softly, looking at her with a look he struggled to keep neutral. "What would you like for the key to do for you, Narcissa?"

Narcissa, however, did not repress the gentle bubble of laughter that resulted from his remark. The sound blended with his in an air of intimacy, one they could achieve alone in a room or surrounded by hundreds who were not looking their way. It was a companionable amusement, Narcissa far from irritated by his remarks.

"Touché, my darling," she murmured, her free hand moving to her side, fingers idly stroking his thigh as she canted her head, pretending to consider his question. She knew he sought her desires and she would not make his mission so easy as he seemed to wish it be.

"I should like this key to open that which it is intended for," she finally answered, smug for the briefest of moments at the non-answer.

Touche indeed.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me. My words were careless, and I have no desire to be so careless as the man who is leaving boxes littering around my house. What I should have asked is what you would like this key to belong to? What lock is it destined to open?" He reached his hand out as though to take the key from her, but instead he traced his fingers over hers. "What lock would you think such a key was made to open?"

Curling her fingers around the key as he reached for it, Narcissa looked down as his fingers moved over hers, tempting with their touch yet also cradling her hand as his had curved around her fist. Suddenly, she knew her answer, one she wanted to give rather than lead him along and make him guess it, or cause him to play his hand and intent.

"You." Soft but certain, she spoke as her gaze met his, the answer certainly fanciful and rather trite, but the drive behind it serious. "Your heart, your mind, your soul, for only a key so fine as this could be suited to opening such things to me."

Unexpectedly Lucius pulled her to him. Valentine's day was just the day for such sentiment, and yet Lucius still didn't know exactly how to express such things. The war had been so long and the aftermath of it so bitter that for a time he feared that every part of him save for the most base means of survival had perished in Azkaban or slowly starved with his pride afterward. Somehow, though, she had helped him to hold onto it, onto his pride, his very sense of self.

"Silly woman..." He said, his voice a bit gruff and unsteady. "You have that already. You've had that for far longer than you know."

Fitting herself close to him within the vee of his legs when he pulled her to him, Narcissa bestowed on him a smile of great softness and open love, her free hand moving from it's place on his thigh up to his jaw. There she traced the strong line of it with her thumb then cupped his cheek with her hand.

"I have, but it all has not always been open to me," she said softly, not a complaint as much as a concern, a statement of truth. Despite how he might feel she had helped him, during the hardest times he had closed himself off and despite knowing it was a defense mechanism for survival in the living hell their occupied manor had been for a time, it had still been something she had wished never needed to happen.

Lucius took the key from her, his fingers gentle on hers, caressing, before he took the key, kissing it. In truth the key was the key to one of their other vacation properties, he had thought that a vacation might do the both of them good...and it would, they would still go, he was certain, but for now he wanted to play along with this game of theirs, give her the key to him as a reward for being the strong and capable woman that she had been through the last torturous few years. Lucius was no fool, though he had struggled to be the strong man he had always been, to keep that capable facade up, she had seen him in private, she knew how he had suffered in the wake of Azkaban and losing nearly everything. She knew, though he had tried to hide it from her, how hard things had been. Because she knew, and she still stayed, he loved her that much more.

"The key, Narcissa," He extended it to her once more. "Is yours, now and forever."

Sentiment had not been Lucius' strong point for many years – in fact, were Narcissa totally honest, it had been his greatest weakness until he had learned to not only recognize his feeling but express them. A hard thing for him to face, to be certain, when he prided himself on his lack of weaknesses. But she had drawn him along, teaching and supporting until he could do it, even if it was uncomfortable.

The result shined through again in this gesture and she felt her throat lodge with a large lump, the well of feeling in her leaving her nears speechless. "Oh, Lucius," she whispered raggedly, closing the scant space left between them to kiss him, the gesture tender but with an underlying hunger that would have been impossible to conceal.

This was all going so differently than he had planned, but it was clear now that all the best things were perhaps not things that you had planned. Perhaps there was something to spontaneity, even if his entire life had been planned and calculated. He pulled her to him, feeling the same hunger that she did. Hunger, need, he knew how to express, those were strong emotions, powerful ones, not so called weaker ones that he had never learned how to express adequately until his marriage like love.

"I've more presents for you..." he gasped, his voice clearly indicating more than some ornately wrapped box. He pulled his lips away from hers to kiss her neck, sucking for a moment at her pulse point. "Gifts such as that, and I won't leave my gifts littered all over the house like your mysterious admirer did."

With the intake of her skin between his lips, Narcissa melted against him, breathing quickening to an extent that the neckline of her gown was quite strained. "Draco isn't here and the door is locked," she murmured, fingers delving between the buttons of his clothing with the deftness of years of experience. It was a bold observation, to be certain, for she fully intended it to inspire him to want to remain here, rather than move to their bedroom and bed.

In the first years of their marriage, when lovemaking often came about because of hunger and need, rather than softer emotions he felt awkward with, there had not been a place in the Manor he would not take her, even with others occupying the house, and sometimes even with little safeguard over being stumbled upon. It had set the tone for their lovemaking all these years, so even when their joinings were tender and unhurried with whispered love words and gentle touches, they still had those other moments of pure need where little was spoken, and when words came, they were as fierce and sexual as their grasping hands and straining bodies. It was he that had awakened the most indecorous, animalistic parts of Narcissa, for Lucius alone she had lost all inhibitions and control.

But the second war had changed that, for he had gone to Azkaban and when he returned, their home was no longer theirs, their lives no longer theirs at all. They had suffered, all three of them, and she knew even now the memories of that suffering affected him. It colored how she and Lucius and Draco interacted, even now, over two years later, and while some might think those behaviours were good, those cold Malfoys showing actual emotion, thoughts and feelings purposefully expressed in private where before the had taken for granted it would be assumed, Narcissa knew it was not a perfect situation, nor was it often enough to counter the memories of suffering.

When Lucius made love to her now, it was with great tenderness and even worshipfulness, but it was also with a careful reserve. She had come to understand, or conservatively, to suspect, that he was trying to make up for that time of indignity and pain by never doing anything that might hurt her, even something as simple as a bruise to her back from where her shoulders had braced against a wall. Given that she bruised easily because her skin was so fair, those periods of hungry, wild passion were gone from their lives. She was treated as precious, which she had never objected to for she was a Black and the woman who loved him desperately, so she deserved it, but the times he did not treat her as that that she also thrilled to, the indiscriminate passionate joinings, were gone..

She wanted them back. Not just for herself, but for him, to reawakened the companion pieces to that passion, from confidence to even outright smug satisfaction. They deserved to have those times back.

"Really?" Lucius drawled the word out, looking at her in a challenging way before he stood, their close proximity with him perched on the edge of the desk meant that when he stood there was literally no space between him. He could feel her every breath and he knew that she could feel what she did to him, and it made him want to do things that he had not allowed himself to think about for far too long. While Lucius had by no means lived under some self-enforced celibacy since the war, he had forced himself to be almost too gentle with his wife. Worried at finding even a hint of a bruise or causing her a moment's discomfort after all that she had been forced to endure, he had steered them toward making love in their wedding bed, gently.

It had always been one of his biggest sources of pride, before things went so terribly wrong, that he had shielded Narcissa and Draco from most of the physical toles of war. Others had allowed their children, their wives, to suffer far more, but not him, not the great Lord Lucius Malfoy. Then he was in Azkaban and powerless to help Draco as he was confronted with the terrible task, and when he was free things had already gone too wrong. His very wand had been taken from him in his own home, his wife and child abused in front of him. No, he had not wanted to add any fresh bruises to Narcissa Black Malfoy's pale, too easily marked skin.

But now...now things seemed a bit different. Not that he was in a huge hurry to mark her with a bruise or injury, he thought that perhaps that would never change, but perhaps now they could make love right here where they were and not focus quite so hard on being so gentle. Perhaps he could focus on her and bringing her pleasure intense enough to wash away the past pain instead.

"Where?" The question was soft, but his eyes were intense. "Here, right here on my desk? Against the wall over there were I took you just before.." he didn't say before what, assuming that she would know. It had been there that he had made love to her the night before he was taken to Azkaban, the night before the world turned on it's ear. "Or somewhere else. As you said, we do have the run of the house."

The moan that came from Narcissa when he stood was pure reaction, unthinking, only feeling, for it made her aware of every last bit of his need, though they had been quite close before that. She had enticed him well, from touching his hand to stroking his thigh to even, it seemed, igniting his imagination and it was wonderful. As were his suggestions. Even thinking about the last time her naked back had been pressed against the study wall, the hard edges digging in to her unnoticed for her focus had been solely on matching his thrusts with equal passion, caused her little pain now for soon she would regain this, soon she would have Lucius in her arms uninhibitedly and she too could heal the wounds in him he had tried to hide.

"Here," she murmured, leaning in to touch the desk as well as pressed her body firmly against his, breasts lifted up ward by the force to present him with an even more enticing view, "so you have something to distract your thoughts when you work." Her lips curved into a smirk, she looked up at him, desire darkening her oft icy blues.

Certain that the thought of having her here right there on his desk would distract him for some time to come, Lucius practically beamed, reaching blindly behind him to knock off the few pieces of parchment and quills that were neatly placed on the desk. Satisfied once it was cleared, he spun them quickly, so that she was the one resting with the desk so close to her that she could likely feel the cool, polished wood behind her.

"Right here?" Lucius looked at her wickedly, imagining. Right now he wasn't thinking about being overly cautious or worrying about the slight possibility of hurting her, no, right now he was only thinking about making this Valentine's day the best one yet. "Would you like to receive the rest of your presents right here?"

:: fade to black ::