Chapter Text
“And you really think this is the best way?”
“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I don’t particularly like anything about this, but just look at him.”
You have. You haven’t been able to look away, if you were being honest with yourself.
“It’ll happen one way or another, and I just think he’d feel most comfortable with you. You want him to feel comfortable, don’t you?”
“You don’t have to try to manipulate me, Draco. I’ve already said yes, haven’t I?”
“Do you—” You startle slightly at the softly spoken words coming from the slight blond in front of you. “You don’t want me,” he says quietly, a horribly mournful undertone coloring his statement, stabbing you in the heart with every syllable.
“Scorp, it’s not that. It’s—” And how are you supposed to explain that the problem is the exact opposite, that you care about him too much—that in the deepest recesses of your mind, you want him too much? Your attention had barely wavered from his father in your school days, and Scorpius was a near perfect iteration, though with slightly softer facial features and sky-blue eyes instead of mercurial grey.
He was exquisite.
“Wouldn’t you rather choose for yourself? I know your father thinks—” you shoot a silencing glance at Draco as he begins to open his mouth, “—that it’s his role to help… protect your experience,” you say slowly, turning the words over in your head. “But you could have anyone.”
“Even you?”
Letting out a quiet sigh, you meet his eyes. You had put up the resistance that felt due to the circumstances. That had to be good enough.
“Even me,” you confirm softly, bringing a hand to his jaw to tilt his face upwards and locking your gaze with his head on. “I would do anything for you, Scorp.”
He shudders under your touch, biting his lip in the obliviously enticing manner that is just so quintessentially him. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing to you, and you thank every god that may or may not exist for that fact.
Lowering your hand from his face, you graze your fingers down his neck, to his chest before withdrawing them with a bemused grin.
“The bed?”
You take his hand in a light grip before turning towards the bed and—
“Draco? Shouldn’t you be going now?” you ask him with a raised brow at where he sits against the headboard, his body set into an unusual lax posture.
“Going where?”
“You’re going to watch?”
“I didn’t mention that part before?”
You’re fairly certain you would have remembered that detail, so you can only shake your head dumbly. He shrugs, and, most disturbingly, makes no move to leave the bed. “I think Scorpius would be more comfortable with me here.” He sends you a slight smirk, his eyes blazing a path down and back up your body—you feel nearly violated by it. “And I think you could—benefit—from my presence as well,” he drawls, forcing you to will the capillaries in your cheeks and neck into compliance as you fight the inevitable blush from his implication.
He wants to coach Scorpius. Specifically, coach him on how to please you.
Fucking hell, you think for about the four thousandth time since meeting Draco Malfoy.
“Is there truly no such thing as overstepping with you?” you mutter darkly, sitting on the side of the bed furthest from where Draco sits, eying Scorpius who has taken a seat next to you. His knee bounces slightly, and you immediately push your agitation aside to attend to his.
Your hand instinctively finds his knee, resting it gently on top to still the movement when you hear a sharp intake of breath from him. Looking up in concern, you find his eyes glued to the spot where you’re touching his leg, and you see him gulp.
All right, middle-aged Malfoy can fuck right off, you think angrily, about to say something—something to call it off, to calm the trembling boy sitting next to you—when the words die before they can make it past your throat.
Because now, somehow—and you’re positive it wasn’t your doing—your hand rests gingerly on top of Scorpius’s groin. The same groin that is sporting a more than just-burgeoning erection.
Your gaze snaps to meet his, and you can’t hold back the soft gasp you emit when you see that the beautiful blue of his irises has been nearly swallowed whole by his pupils.
“Scorp,” you croak out, green eyes wide with concern or lust or something else that probably shouldn’t be there.
“Kiss me, Harry,” he whispers, as soft-spoken as ever but you couldn’t have missed the words if you’d tried.
Fuck it all to hell, you think as you lean forward, pressing your lips to Scorpius’s.
He lets out an almost surprised gasp—as if he really hadn’t expected that to work—before he grabs the back of your neck, carding his fingers through the hair there as he moans against your lips. You press your tongue lightly to encourage him to open his mouth into the kiss, and you barely hold back a groan as he parts his lips, allowing you to taste him.
“Perfect,” you murmur, pulling back to lay on the bed as he wastes no time straddling you and leaning down to press eager kisses to your neck.
One moment away from panting obscenities at the feeling of Scorp’s tongue tracing your sensitive skin, you’re thrown back to the reality of your situation.
“Really, Harry? You’re just going to lie there and let him do all the work?”
Your head snaps up to glare at Draco, jostling Scorpius and drawing a small whine from him.
“Is this the sort of commentary we can expect to be treated to over the course of this evening?” you grit out, flushed with embarrassment and arousal in equal parts.
“Father, I wanted to do that.” You look back to the blond boy in your lap to see him looking at you with a familiar look of desire—familiar, of course, because it’s mirrored on your face.
Unable to resist rubbing it in Draco’s face just a little, you run one hand up the outside of Scorpius’s thigh to squeeze one arse cheek before trailing it back down to a safer position near his knee. “How about this? You can take a nap or get a bloody hobby or something—” you press a kiss to the side of Scorp’s neck, drawing a whimper from him as he wiggles in your lap, “and we’ll let you know if we need something from you.”
Without waiting for a response—because when has Draco had anything reasonable to say, anyway—you set to work on the buttons of Scorpius’s shirt, pushing it from his shoulders to expose the milky-white expanse of skin. Good fucking gods, you think as your eyes rake over his shoulders, to his chest, and the lean lines of his abdomen leading to a trail of blond hair disappearing into his trousers.
You probably should have let him remove your shirt himself, in retrospect, but he hardly looks upset as you wandlessly remove it from your body so you can feel more of his skin against yours.
“Scorp,” you say quietly, barely able to tear your eyes from his body to meet his gaze. “Have you ever… in your, er…” You had clearly underestimated this part, the inevitable awkwardness that comes along with deflowering someone.
He cocks his head at you, and as you brace yourself to just spit out the words, your unexpected knight in platinum armor comes to your rescue.
“He wants to know if you’ve ever fingered yourself, darling,” Draco tells Scorp, the words soft and gentle in the way that only Scorpius ever receives from his father.
At his words, Scorpius flushes a deep red, biting that damn bottom lip once again. “Um, no, I—I haven’t. I know Al has, he’s told me—”
“We don’t need to go into detail on that,” you interrupt, because truly, the reminder that you are about to have sex with your youngest son’s best friend does not need the added visual of said son fucking himself on his fingers.
“Sorry, um, he just told me he has—before.” Scorpius eyes your hands curiously, and your cock throbs against where it presses to his, drawing a soft moan from the boy.
Draco narrows his eyes at the sound, his gaze eventually falling to your joined laps. His mouth twists into a smirk that indicates nothing remotely good to come.
“Feel free to use him, Scorp,” he murmurs, seeing his son hold back a grind aiming for your cock. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
At the encouragement, Scorpius rubs himself against you, a blissful sigh falling from his lips, and fuck, that sound has no business being so arousing, your cock tenting your trousers impossibly more.
Hold it together, Potter. You have a job to do—and no room for errors like coming in your pants like a godsdamn teenager.
“Can you turn around, Scorp? I’m going to help you relax and open up a bit,” you tell him, hoping that choreographing your sex maneuvers doesn’t come off half as awkward in practice as in concept. The blond boy scrambles off of your lap, and sits back on his heels with his back to you now. You place a hand on his lower back, feeling him shiver slightly under your touch, before you urge him to his hands and knees. Taking a deep breath to calm your body—because it’s not like you’re the one losing your virginity—you snake a hand to the front of his trousers to unclasp them, and slowly pull them down along with his pants underneath.
Scorpius facing the other way is your saving grace in this moment as you hear his cock smack against his stomach when it’s released, and you really think that you might lose it if you had to see it for yourself. As it is, your need ramps up at the sight of his puckered hole, just waiting to be filled.
Giving his thigh a light squeeze, you tell him, “Scorp, I’m going to do something now. If you don’t like it, you can just let me know.” Unable to resist any longer, you spread his cheeks apart, and bring your mouth to his hole to lick up across it.
“Oh,” he gasps, and you force yourself to pause before his arse wiggles slightly. “Fuck, that felt good. Was that—” You silence him with another lick, dipping your tongue inside to tease his entrance. “Merlin, Harry, fuck—” He cuts off with a whimper, arse now rocking insistently against your mouth.
When he’s nearly incoherent, little more than a mess of moans and frantic thrusts, you draw back and murmur the spell to conjure lube onto your hand.
“All right Scorp, I’m going to use my fingers now—”
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Potter?”
For fuck’s sake, you’d nearly forgotten about your creepy little albino pet watching your extracurriculars from the other side of the bed.
“Funny, Draco, I thought you’d be familiar with the actions, or is this your first time as well?” you can’t help snarking at him before he tosses a small bottle your way. “What’s this?”
“This,” he states, “is for Scorpius. You can’t just use conjured lube,” he adds, the words nearly spit out in his derision. “He deserves the best.”
You give the bottle an unimpressed onceover. Vaguely French, pretentious-looking label, probably nothing special inside—huh, sounds like someone else you know, you think with a flicker of amusement.
Needing to get your fingers inside his son and far from willing to die on this hill, you wipe your fingers against the bedsheets—relishing in Draco’s affronted look, of course—before applying his preferred lube to three of your fingers.
“Okay, Scorp, it might feel a little strange at first, but I’m going to go really slow, and it’ll begin to feel good. I promise.”
You see him nod his head and press the first finger in. He’s clenched pretty tightly still, which is not altogether unexpected for his inexperience, and you bring your mouth to him again, licking around where your finger is breaching him. You smile against him as you hear his moan of pleasure and feel the vice grip on your first finger relax slightly.
“Such a quick study,” you whisper against him, and he presses back into you with a gasp. “Do you think you can take more?”
“Yes, please, Harry,” he says breathlessly, rocking his hips as you add another slick finger. You move them gingerly within him, sliding them into the right position to stroke over his—
“Fuck!” he cries out, his back arching as buries his face into the mattress.
You can’t help the wicked grin that overtakes your face, rubbing against his prostate with the pads of your fingers. “I told you it would get better,” you say, daring to add a third finger now that the pleasure has allowed him to relax his muscles further, loosening him just enough to slide all three to the knuckle. Your cock will still stretch him, of course, but you know he can take it.
Scorpius was a natural. So beautiful, you think before giving him a tap on his hip with your other hand.
“I’d like to fuck you now, Scorp,” you tell him, withdrawing your fingers from him to be met with a soft whine. “Would you like to ride me? It will allow you to control the pace, the movements.”
He turns to face you, and you just now are able to take him in fully. Body flushed with arousal, hair disheveled from his frantic movements, and his cock nearly purple and throbbing.
Before you even let him answer, you’re pulling him up to sit astride your chest, wrapping your lips around his throbbing prick. He throws his head back as his nails dig lightly into your shoulders. Dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft and swirling it around the head, you moan around him at the breathtaking picture of his ecstasy on full display above you.
You pull off of him just long enough to say, “you can come, Scorp. Whatever you need,” before swallowing him back down deep into your throat.
The command turns oddly prophetic as you feel him pulse on your tongue before filling your mouth with hot spurts of cum. You swallow it all without a second thought, licking him clean as he softens in your mouth.
“Fucking hell, Scorp. You’re going to leave a trail of devastated lovers in your wake someday,” you whisper as you shift him to allow you to sit up, still clutching him close to your chest. He wiggles against your erection, seeming to become aware of its presence all over again.
“Harry, please,” he moans into your chest before pulling back to turn his dangerous eyes on you. “Fuck me.”
Hearing a sharp intake of breath, you turn your attention to the other side of the bed, and watch in slightly horrified fascination as Draco watches where your cock bobs against his son’s spent one, and fuck, are you glad you aren’t paying for whatever family therapy is to come for these two.
“You heard him, Harry.”
Draco’s encouragement was hardly needed by that point. You twist around with Scorp still in your lap before nearly throwing the blond down onto the bed on his back. You know the angle would likely be better from behind, but this is his first time—and, as you determinedly try not to acknowledge it, the part of you that desperately needs to see his face as he comes undone by you becomes louder.
Wedging a pillow under his hips, you swipe a finger across his hole. Still fairly slick, still deliciously loosened, needing to be filled by—
“Don’t forget the lube.”
The reminder that Draco’s voyeurism has turned clinical once again grates on you as you shoot back, “and when have I ever forgotten that?” He would know, surely.
You catch the bottle that he tosses back to you, pausing only to push your trousers and pants the rest of the way down your legs before squirting it into your palm and spreading it over your cock.
“Scorp,” you say softly, gaining his attention back reluctantly from where it had been focused with a starved intensity on your throbbing cock. “Are you ready?”
“I believe he asked—”
“I believe that your name isn’t Scorpius,” you snap at the older blond, your patience crumbling with the final snark-filled straw added. “Wait another week, and maybe you’ll have your chance to answer that question.”
Sufficiently cowed, Draco sits back with that defiant scowl gracing his features as you turn your attention where it should be—to the blond boy lying under you, writhing wantonly as your cock brushes against his rapidly hardening one.
“Yes, please, I want you,” he says breathlessly, flexing his hips up towards you in conjunction with his words.
It’s now or never, you think as you line the head up with his hole, pushing just barely in and stopping to let him adjust.
“All right?”
“More, Harry,” he moans, jutting his hips once again. Your mind nearly empties faster than your cock feels at risk of doing as he slides you in by another inch or two, his tight arse squeezing you in a way that feels unearthly.
Right, virgin hole, you tell yourself, because you’d somehow managed to forget just what had brought you to Malfoy Manor that evening. A favor to Draco, a caring sentiment for Scorpius, all fleeing your mind as you push further in until you bottom out.
Looking at the boy beneath you, you see him with his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open as small whines escape him.
“Scorp, you feel so—” you pause as he clenches around you again, willing yourself not to come, “you feel incredible, love.” Your mouth crashes into his, swallowing his needy sounds as you lick into his mouth, tasting the absolutely brilliant, sweet boy.
“Daddy, please, more,” he murmurs after pulling back, and if you had thought getting even harder was impossible—
“What—what did you say?”
“Daddy, I need more,” he whines more insistently, grinding up against you, creating an indescribable type of pleasure that you have to fight tooth and nail to overcome.
Knowing that if you hear him call you “Daddy” one more time, you’ll end this far too soon, you pull most of the way out before thrusting back into him. For someone entirely new to this, his moans are borderline pornographic, and you think that it just may be for that exact reason. He’s too inexperienced to restrain himself, and the rawness of his reactions have your balls drawing up, preparing for the inevitable.
“Fuck, Scorp, you’re—fucking hell,” you groan as you fight off your release for hopefully another half minute, stroking his leaking cock furiously.
“Want to feel you come, Scorp. Come for me, son,” you practically growl at him, nipping at his throat to send him over the edge, a wail slipping from his lips as he clenches your cock in a vice grip and spurts cum over both of your stomachs.
You follow him over almost immediately—because of course you do—filling his arse with your spend as he stares up at you with cum-drunk eyes.
“Thank you,” he nearly slurs, his lips turning up into the smile that you’ve loved subconsciously since you were eleven—the same, but different still.
Brushing the hair from his face, you offer a crooked grin in return before gently slipping out of him and wrapping your arms around him, his back pressed to your chest as you lay on the bed together.
“Is he—” You’d forgotten entirely that Draco was still in the room, much less only about three feet away. “Is he asleep?”
Laughing softly as you feel his even breaths against your palms and hear the soft, sleepy noises slipping from his mouth, you tighten your arms around him protectively.
“I think he needs it,” you say quietly, trying to compartmentalize the feeling that washes over you. A kind of love, but that wasn’t surprising. Scorpius always had, and you feared always would, occupy a very multifaceted place in your heart.
You chance a glance across the bed to where Draco sits, shifting uncomfortably and—
The bark of laughter is restrained, but that does nothing to cure the amusement you feel at the sight of Draco’s flushed face and tenting trousers.
“Looks like you’ve got a bit of a problem there, Draco,” you say, happily sated but not above throwing a smug grin his way.
If looks could kill—that sentiment fully encapsulates the glare he sends your way as he struggles not to wank right then and there in the same bed as his sleeping son.
“Real funny, Potter. Guess since you’re staying here, I’ll just have to go stay at your place.” His eyes light up with mischief as a thought seems to occur to him. “Maybe I’ll see if James or Albus are around,” he ponders with just a touch too much performative innocence for you to miss his insinuation. “Or,” he continues, a sinful smirk twisting his lips, “if I’m really lucky, maybe Teddy will be staying over.”