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Paloma had missed the mist and rain of England. She would die before confessing that to anyone, of course - she had complained too much of the dreary weather all her life for anyone close to her to forget her disgust with it. But after her years abroad, and especially the muggy, skin-melting heat of the Bayou, the coolness on her skin would never be enough. She drank it in, fresh and clean and pure, and began to feel as though she were home .
Sighing, she tilted her face to the moody grey sky. Here, on the coast of Dover, the air smelled crisp and salty and clean, and she would savor it as long as she could before taking up her new post at the London offices. This small test - mediation between the ghost of an ancient sailor and the caretaker of the nearby kelpie refuge - had passed quicker and easier than a laugh.
A few days at home with her family, this final assessment by her head of department, and then the rest of her life splayed out like an indexed paper book: Official Spirit Liaison of the Ministry of Magic.
Still, it could have been more perfect. Wandering the grassy knolls where she could see the grey, cold churning of the sea far below - she was, for the first time in a very long time, lonely.
She had studied for this position with several other witches and wizards from around the globe. And before that, Hogwarts had always been bustling. Always part of a group - always happiest with cozy friendships around her - but now, alone at the seaside, she ached.
She ached for one in particular.
Since returning, she had not yet dared to send an owl to Lucius - they had kept up a regular correspondence during their years apart, but the affection that had come so easily during those early months at Hogwarts had not come so easily in parchment.
Paloma sighed, and turned to trudge back to the village where she was staying.
Perhaps he doesn’t love you anymore , the nasty part of her brain whispered.
A man the like of Lucius Malfoy would not faithfully write a woman he didn’t love for so long , she retorted back - and though it snarled and nipped at the edges of her consciousness, it slunked away to strike later. For now, she missed him too badly to even allow doubt to unfurl.
The village was starkly white-washed and rather cheery against the rain: bright summer flowers spilled from flower boxes and scented the air sweetly. A perfect medley with the mist and earth, Paloma thought - if her job wasn’t in London, she might consider living here…
When she stepped into the hidden half of the village, where the buildings appeared older and more crooked and children rushed by on toy broomsticks, unheeding of the rain, her heart caught in her throat. There - standing beneath the creaking sign of the local wizard inn -
It was him.
He saw her only a half-second after her - straightening, and looking even taller and more striking in his black cloak - she could see the shimmer of a silver waistcoat as he strode towards her, his expression hard and impenetrable but shimmering - pale hair streaming behind him at his speed -
Lucius Malfoy gripped her ‘round the waist and kissed her soundly.
Paloma went limp in his arms.
He was merciless. Holding her fast - she could scarcely breathe - or was that her own dizzy surprise? - his icy eyes gazed down at her, devouring her, and his breath was a warm contrast against her face as he muttered in a hush,
“Were you trying to sneak past me, coming home like this?”
She could scarcely speak. Missing him for so long - everything about him, his confidence and assurity and passion - Paloma swallowed several times before her throat cleared, very aware that her gloved hands were now resting on his chest.
“N - no, Lucius - oh, I missed you so!”
That was enough - his expression softened at once, and when he kissed her again he was gentle and searching. But still, she was gasping for breath when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and lashes dark against his skin.
“When - when I heard you had returned, I thought you...I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
From anyone else, the confession would have sounded petulant, but Paloma knew Lucius was incapable of petulance. No, he was simply honest and stubborn and likely still a bit angry, and she smoothed down his shirt collar as a memory of when she’d done so at Hogwarts after they’d snuck away to snog…
“No,” she told him, and his steady gaze met hers. “No. I - I was only afraid of what you’d say.”
One of his brows crept upward. “What I would say?”
“That you didn’t want me anymore,” Paloma confessed, and that sounded petulant - but his lips twitched - extra pink from kissing and looking delicious still.
“I want you more than the day you left,” Lucius told her solemnly. “Nothing has changed for me.”
“For me, either,” she said, and smiled. Immediately he grinned back at her, his eyes flickering down to her mouth - and he might be taller, his face more defined and his shaven chin more manly than boyish - but that barely-contained want was so very him.
“Come, then,” he said briskly, and loosened his embrace on her - immediately the chilly wind was cutting through her cloak again, and she desperately wanted his warmth, his touch again. “Is this where you’re staying? Let’s find some supper and talk.”
The common room flickered with golden light: shaking off her hat, Paloma sat, shivering slightly, in front of the fire - perhaps she had not realized how cold she’d gotten on her walk, or perhaps it was giddiness and nerves and excitement making her tremble from the inside out. No, it must be giddiness: when Lucius appeared beside her, a pair of steaming goblets in hand, she jumped, and beamed up at him as she accepted one to warm her fingers.
He cleared his throat as he sat in front of her - their knees touching in the cramped space, and the firelight turning his skin rich and dark. She sipped at the hot butterbeer, still smiling (if she would ever be able to stop smiling again), and the softness in his eyes was enough to warm her better than any fire.
“Well,” Lucius said softly, at long last. “Tell me everything.”
The rain crescendoed to a storm outside the pub, bringing in various characters and creatures to bask in the warmth of the inn. Paloma hardly noticed; she talked and talked and talked, even when the barkeep brought bowls of stew for them and Lucius’s eyes remained fastened on her face. She spoke of ghostly saints and unfinished business, churches older than time and haunted swamps in the night. It was easy to speak to him - it always had been, despite the stark differences between them. There was some knowing; something more that circumstantial that made trusting him as inevitable as the moonrise.
Eventually her voice croaked, and he refilled her goblet with a tap of his wand, grinning up at her.
“And you’re returning to London?” he asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Excellent. I’ve started at the Ministry myself, you see - that’s how I heard you were here.” The smug lines around his mouth made her laugh - he really hadn’t changed a bit.
“You passed your Aurorship, then?” Paloma teased. “And without a N.E.W.T. in Charms?”
Lucius’s lips twitched. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Never,” she vowed.
“I did pass,” he told her, and took a sip from his own goblet. “They accepted my O in Alchemy.”
“That’s awfully lucky.”
“I’m a lucky man.” Something darker lurked at the edges of his expression - Paloma watched his face for a moment, wondering if he’d show it to her - but then he blinked, and smiled. Leaning forward in the firelight, Lucius said softly, beneath the clamor of the other pub patrons, “I look forward to working together.”
The sultriness in his voice made her cheeks flush warmly. Or was that the fire? She smiled, and pointed out, “We work in different departments, Lucius. We’ll be lucky to pass in the corridors.”
His brow quirked. “We can arrange that.”
It was growing late: midnight arrived with a clap of thunder and a rousing song from a few wizards at the bar - Paloma looked away as Lucius cleared his throat, and he tugged at his collar a moment before standing.
“I’m going to see if I can get a room for tonight,” he said. “Anything else you want?”
“No, I’m perfect.”
Lucius smiled at that, and retreated with a sweep of his black cloak. She stared after him - the cut of his shoulders made her feel giddy again. The authoritative way he waved over the bartender to converse in low voices...it was so very him . Paloma had missed that: when she was with him she never questioned his ability to accomplish anything. Making arrangements, getting what he wanted...she had listened for years about the other houses complaining of Slytherins and their slippery ways, but she preferred his assertive nature. She was so used to bending to every push, but he pushed back…
At least as much as he could. As he stalked back through the crowded pub, lips curled, Paloma knew that something had gone wrong. And when he growled as he resumed his seat, she reached out to clasp his hand.
“Booked full,” Lucius muttered. “Bugger. I told my parents I was on assignment tonight; they’ll ask questions if I return early.”
“Stay with me,” she said impulsively, and immediately swallowed. He blinked as he met her gaze, the ice-blue questioning wordlessly. But Paloma didn’t dare to clarify that she simply meant they could share a room out of convenience rather than desire.
Not that she didn’t desire it...
“You want me to stay with you?” His voice was a near-whisper.
“Why not?” she asked boldly. “As long as you don’t snore.”
Lucius chuckled. “I’ve never been told that I do. You’re safe with me.”
“It will give us more time to talk, anyway.”
He hummed at that, and as a glass of firewhiskey exploded over their heads as it smashed against the mantle, they stood to leave, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist. Though she wasn’t afraid in the least, it afforded the chance to rest her head against his shoulder, breathing in deep the scent she’d missed: crisp, loamy cologne that reminded her of the cardamom buns her mother used to bake. It was an invisible tether that drew her to him - one breath and she was completely reeled in. He kissed the top of her head as they wound around the bar as she sighed in contentment.
Slytherins protect what’s theirs , Paloma recalled him saying, long ago. And you’re mine .
She shivered their way up the rickety back staircase. Exposed at the corner of the inn, the wind seemed to rattle worse here, and Lucius tightened his hold on her hand as he followed her up. Down the corridor lit by flickering sconces on the wall. Paloma tapped on the slab wooden door to her room with her wand for it to swing open.
“Brr,” Lucius remarked as he stepped inside behind her. “No turn down service?”
“Evidently not,” she replied, a little tetchy as she felt her fingers and toes turning to ice. “This is my first night here.”
He merely smiled at that, and pointed to the fireplace with his wand to mutter, “Incendio.”
The effect was instantaneous. The heat was enough that after a few minutes Paloma could shake off her cloak to drape on the foot of the bedstead, summoning her suitcase over to plop open and reveal her things. Lucius, much slower to remove his cloak, was watching her, and she flushed to realize he could see the sorts of silks she had packed.
“Those aren’t going to keep you warm,” he pointed out as she pushed a pair of pajamas aside.
“I know. They’re more for swamp living,” Paloma said, smiling up at him. “It’s been too long since I’ve been cold.”
“Well, I’m used to it,” Lucius drawled, and with one hand started unbuttoning his crisp white collar. “And that bed seems small enough I’ll keep you warm whether you like it or not.”
She laughed then, to hide her nerves. “Turn around, then. I’m going to change.”
He lifted a brow, but did not question it. Once his back was turned to her, and tearing her eyes away from his back as he shrugged off his silver vest, Paloma snapped her wand in a few too-excited motions - her clothes nearly ripped off her body to fold neatly in the suitcase, and the gold, silken pajamas she had no choice but to wear zoomed over her arms in record time. It took a moment to regain both her breath and her balance, and she squeaked,
“I’m done.”
“Good. My turn now.”
She wasn’t entirely sure if it was silly of them to insist on undressing privately. But still, she crawled under the covers on the admittedly-tiny bed to stare at the wall while Lucius changed behind her. This was entirely new territory for them: no longer teenagers, no longer students - but a man and a woman, free and wanting and uncertain.
But the cusp was a beautiful thing, Paloma thought. The butterflies in her stomach, as the bed dipped with his weight, were enough to make her hands shake.
“Pretty,” Lucius remarked, and his voice was deep and low as she felt his fingers worry the edge of her cap sleeve. “But you really are going to freeze, pet. Come here.”
Paloma shifted beneath the covers, towards the source of heat that welcomed her with a wry smile and open arms. The glow of the fire was an intimate light to watch his face by, and once she was pressed up to his chest and wrapped in his goodness, she closed her eyes and hummed out a sigh of contentment that she felt all the way to her bones.
“Not exactly how I expected to spend the night,” he said into her hair, and followed it with a kiss. Shivers broke out across her skin, crawling delicately down her spine and leaving heat in its wake. So this was how it was going to be, she though dimly: torture.
“I’m not complaining,” she mumbled back. “Cute pajamas, though.”
“Why, thank you,” Lucius chuckled. “I thought you might like the stripes.”
“Hmm?” Paloma lifted her head to look up at him - his pale hair falling over his shoulder, his eyes hooded and growing dark, his smile rather taut. “I thought you said you didn’t expect to spend tonight like this.”
“I didn’t,” he clarified in a low voice, and traced along her jaw with one long finger as his lips twisted into a smile. “But at some point I hoped that we would be this...close.”
“Ah.”
“And anyway,” Lucius continued, and he pressed his nose to her hair, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “I’d rather choose pajamas that please you than my mother.”
Paloma couldn’t help it - a giggle burst out before she could stop it, and unsure of whether his dry tone indicated a joke or something more serious, she clamped a hand to her mouth. But he was laughing as he pulled her hand away, and dipped his head to kiss her.
It was all too much: his sudden, unexpected appearance, his assurances that his feelings hadn’t changed, and now, his mouth moving intently against hers - she whimpered, he groaned, and she could feel his fingers tightening like a vice on her waist and bunching up silk into his fist. Lucius paused then, and she panted for breath as she opened her eyes to meet his - the raw hunger in them sent her over the edge, careening -
“Lucius,” Paloma whispered, and tangled her hands in his hair as he waited for her to go on. Tense and stiff and ready to spring, she suspected, rather like a starving predator - and there was nothing more she wanted than to be his prey. But her throat was dry, her heart hammering - and she could say no more.
“Do you want this?” he murmured. Clasped her clammy hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her palm, eyes never leaving hers.
“I - I do, I truly do.”
“It’s - ” Lucius started, and then paused. Licked his lips. “Sudden.”
“Yes,” she said. “But this - being with you - it’s...it’s like I haven’t been away.”
“I’ve already forgotten,” he told her solemnly, though humor flickered a grin on his face. Then, more softly, “I’ve ached for you. Every day, love. It was all I could do not to follow you to Prague. My life is nothing without you.”
“That can hardly be true,” Paloma insisted. “You have - your career, your family, your friends - ”
“And you mean more than any of them. Truly.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, but she was weakening at the sincerity in his voice, his eyes - smoldering, dark blue now, like the stormy sea she’d seen in the afternoon.
“I was nothing until you. A shell, really. I don’t know who I was - a culmination of expectations, perhaps. But it wasn’t me. And with you away - “ Lucius paused, his gaze flickering over her face as if to memorize it all over again. “I was slipping. I much prefer who I am with you.”
“Oh, darling…”
“I love you,” he told her. “I have for a very long time.”
Something deliciously lovely swelled in her heart - biting her lip, Paloma twirled her index finger through his white-blond locks, and he was smiling at her absent affection.
“Is this,” she purred, and a little hiss escaped his lips at her tone. “ Really the boy that once dusted the entire Gryffindor bench with Wartcap Powder?”
Lucius burst out laughing, and she giggled, too, but he sobered quickly, wrinkling his nose ruefully at the memory. “I suppose it is,” he said. “But I’m not twelve anymore, love. Some credit would be vastly appreciated.”
“Consider it done.”
His hand was moving beneath the thick quilts, and beneath her pajamas her skin was responding in breath-hitching wonder: Paloma wasn’t used to being touched this way, and when his chilly fingertips found the warm skin below her navel, pausing, she wondered if she might faint.
“Your decision, pet.”
Of course it was. Lucius was too courteous for anything else.
“Make love to me,” she said boldly. “I want to forget that we were ever apart.”
“I’ll do my best.” That with a characteristically arrogant grin, but she loved it, anyway, and when his lips found her throat she fumbled blindly for the buttons on his pajama shirt. The vibrations of his laugh shook her to her core; his mouth to her neck, and Paloma whined in impatience. “Greedy, aren’t we?” he teased her, and lifted his head to meet her gaze as his long fingers slipped beneath her neckline to tug, exposing more of her skin, and resuming his worship with his mouth.
“Only a little,” she gasped, when he sucked on her collarbone - frantically she loosened the last button of his shirt, and tugged it over his shoulders without his mouth ever leaving her.
The soft flump of fabric to floor was missed as Lucius reached up to her breast; fondling through the silk as her nipple perked at the attention - Paloma was growing dizzy in all the most delectable ways, running her fingers over his bare shoulders to savor the feel of him. And then his lips followed his hands, and she gasped, back arching, when his tongue found that nipple beneath the silk
“Merlin’s beard, these are as nice as I remember,” Lucius mumbled some time later, when he’d left two wet spots on the front of her shirt and she was cross-eyed. “Can I - is it alright if I see them?”
She could have laughed - that usual confidence seems to have left him, and his eyes were desperate and beseeching before he leaned up to kiss beneath her jaw. “I’m yours,” Paloma whispered. “You can see whatever you like.”
A low growl seemed to form in his throat, and without warning he reached up to yank at the neckline of her blouse: buttons popped as it fell open. She shrugged it off her arms to toss away, but his attention was fully on her front. So he was speechless - how utterly endearing. Paloma smiled as she trailed her hands up his arms and over his shoulders, cataloguing the dips and curves and outlines of lean muscles that felt so masculine - she’d never touched a man like this before, and by the reverence that Lucius cradled her breast with, it was new territory for him, too.
And frankly, there was none other she’d rather explore it with.
He wasted no time to taste them now without the silk in between. She wriggled; half-trapped beneath him she felt as though she couldn’t participate as well - but if she tucked her arms underneath his, she could reach…
“Mmph,” Lucius grunted around her nipple. He went completely stiff as she stroked the outside of his pants, gentle and slow to feel his hard heaviness in her palm. Up and down, up and down as he groaned. She liked the feeling, she decided, and she liked the way he shuddered.
“Is that alright?” Paloma whispered.
“It’s - ” his voice was strangled as he released her breast, now red from the attention, “More than alright, pet.”
She wanted his pants off entirely, but in her position she didn’t quite have the power - so she contented herself with sliding her hand back beneath the waistband to grip into his bare buttocks as his lips crashed to hers, tongue slipping between to devour her like a final meal.
And she loved it.
Even the tickles of his hair on her face, the sweat that was breaking out on her skin between them and making their cocoon hot with the growing heat of the fire beyond it. She was panting for breath, so utterly caught up in her body and seemingly out of it as well.
He scattered open-mouthed kisses to her throat. Paloma pulled herself back together enough to say, “Darling - take off those trousers, will you?”
Lucius lifted his head to blink, and then scrambled off of her. The blankets fell aside, and cold as the warmth of his body left her naked, she tugged them up to her chest as she sat forward to watch as he slid his trousers and pants off, kicking them to the side. With hair lit gold by the fire behind him, she bit her lip in admiration.
There was no doubt Lucius Malfoy was a handsome specimen: Paloma remembered returning to Hogwarts the autumn when he’d gone from boy to very nearly a man in the course of a single summer. Half the girls in their year had been talking about him for weeks; blushing and stuttering and sighing. She hadn’t been immune - especially against his rare smile that he sometimes favored his friends with when she pretended she wasn’t looking. But, unlike the other girls, Paloma hadn’t been afraid of him - she’d teased and talked and even flirted once or twice, and he’d noticed her .
“Alright?” he asked hoarsely, and she realized he’d been watching her watch him, that hunger still raw and unsatiated in his eyes.
Paloma smiled back, and crooked her finger at him. His teeth bared in a grin, and he crawled under the blankets at once to slide up to her. Skin on skin, and his hand was drawn to her breast like a magnet. It made her laugh - she’d never seen the appeal herself - and she clasped his face in her hands to kiss him fiercely.
“So, tell me, pet,” Lucius murmured some time later. “When are you going to take off your trousers?”
She pursed her lips. “When are you going to take them off of me?”
One silver brow rose, and his lips curled into a smile: it made her stomach turn in a delicious flip. That wicked look in his eyes - she could drown in the depths of them. Keeping his gaze on her, he moved down, sliding beneath the blankets until his head disappeared. She could still see lumps of him squirming around, and Paloma couldn’t help laughing.
His fingers were cold - she bit back a shriek as they untied the waistband of her pajamas. Then he slid them, agonizingly slow, down her hips - there Lucius paused, and though she could not see the look on his face, she clenched her hands nervously over her breasts, and waited.
Then, a muffled, “You smell delicious , pet.”
That made her giggle, too - when at last he’d tugged the trousers off her ankles to kick to the floor, he emerged back from the blankets with his hair, once smooth and sleek, now completely tousled. His cheeks were slightly red now, too, perhaps from the warmth, and his grin was devilish.
“Your fingers are cold,” Paloma told him, and pinched his handsome chin between her fingers just to see him scrunch up his face.
“Warm them up for me, pet?” Lucius asked back, boldly, and already he was tracing over her bare thighs with his fingers. Over and over the skin, raising goosebumps wherever he went as her breath caught and lodged in her throat. Each pass, closer to where she ached for him, and each time she wriggled and then sighed as he moved away again, his grin grew bigger. “Impatient?” he purred, and his breath ghosted her throat, and as he moved his head lower; her breasts. “Eager? Desperate, perhaps?”
He swirled his tongue over one pert nipple, and then smiled up at her. Paloma felt cross-eyed and stupid, barely noticing that the teasing path of his fingers had slowed until she felt him parting her, tracing up in a slow, soft motion that dragged a gasp from her throat as her back arched against him.
Lucius didn’t stop. It was agony in the best of ways; every muscle in her body tensing up for release as her desire built like a bonfire racing beneath her skin.
“I thought about doing this every single day,” he whispered, and his low voice laced with sensuality made her tremble. “Every day. Like at the lake before you left. I dreamt about you for months after that.”
“Merlin’s beard, Lucius,” Paloma whimpered. Her fingers dug into his bare shoulders for some sense of grounding as he dared to dip a finger inside of her. Just a little, enough to rile her up more, and her hips moved up for more, more, more, as if following their own free will - and wanting him, more, more more -
“Good?” Lucius asked.
“ Good. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. Her face prickled with dizzy heat, little moans falling from her lips as oh, oh, oh ’s as he pushed a second finger in, too, gently stroking now - slow enough to torture, enough to give a taste of what was to come. She wanted more. Desperately. And so she fumbled beneath the covers to find his hand, guiding it to touch just that, yes and urging him to go faster - Lucius chuckled at that, and thankfully obliged.
The intensity built. Paloma clutched the sheets in one fist, drawing in ragged breath after ragged breath, and his teeth nipped at her breasts, sucking on the flesh and she wondered if he was going to leave marks -
- and then a ripping, hot orgasm shook her head to toe, stealing her breath and her voice as she shuddered and cried aloud, which was then swallowed as Lucius’s mouth crashed to hers as if to drink in the sound of her climax. She scarcely noticed that he was groaning, too, as the fuzziness around her began to fade.
Biting her lip but not at all tempering her smile, Paloma kept her eyes closed, and let him kiss her jaw as his wet fingers walked up her belly.
“I thought about it, too,” she told him quietly.
“Hmm?” Though his eyes were bright, they were muddled dark blue, and she hummed as she tucked his hair behind his ear.
“You touching me like this.”
“Mmm.” Lucius’s smile crept back upwards. “Just can’t resist me, can you, Tornsey?”
“Not at all,” Paloma said. “Nor do I wish to.”
His thumb traced along her cheekbone, the lines around his mouth fading from smile to something more somber, more tender. Stormy eyes over her face, as if to assure himself she was really there, and that he was really there with her. Her heart thudded. Trailing her hands over his bare chest, she could feel knots of lean muscles and a few prickles of hair - she hadn’t seen it, and so it must be light like his head. She would enjoy taking a better look in the daylight, sometime…
Lucius nudged his knee between hers, grunting as he dragged himself over. Being tangled this way was such an alien experience; skin on skin at every inch of their bodies. She drew up her knees to make space for him as he settled, his breathing ragged but deep. It made her heart race more, to think that a few years ago they’d been fumbling teenagers at school, and now...this…
“Tell me if it hurts,” he whispered, and rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me if I hurt you, pet.”
“I will.”
Paloma reached beneath the covers, falling over his shoulders like a cape, to guide his awkward movements - one of the few times she’d ever seen Lucius clumsy, and she absolutely loved it. Loved the vulnerability he shared with her, his willingness to listen and adjust and change . Who else had the privilege of knowing him so?
None. She knew it.
The stretch burned; the pain was more than she expected. But she breathed deeply, savoring the scratch of his thighs against hers, the way his brows furrowed so adorably as he concentrated. His arms trembled, propped on his elbows around her shoulders; silver hair pooled against her breasts. Lucius hissed, and suddenly stopped when she wasn’t entirely sure he could go any further. His eyes screwed shut.
“Darling?”
“Just a moment, pet.” His breathing was labored. “I - I’m only thinking I won’t last long. And I want to make sure you enjoy yourself. I need to - to pause.”
Paloma brushed his hair back, smoothed out the lines on his forehead with her thumbs. His eyes blinked open; pools of night sea that swam as he stared at her. Love glittered there. And she was sure it was reflected in her own eyes, too.
“Are you in pain?” he asked raggedly.
“No,” she said, and truthfully - it had faded. “Are you?”
“No!” Lucius laughed, a little choked. “Not in the least.”
She did not like the strain in his face; it made him look hollow though he trembled at the edges. She wanted to soothe him. A few moments of caressing his face, until he smiled and his tautness seemed to lax slightly, and then Paloma drew his head downward to kiss his mouth, gently, gently.
Slowly at first, he began to move - shifting his hips back and then, with a groan, thrusting forward again. She whimpered at the sensation, hating when he left her empty but dizzy when he was inside her - the discomfort was long gone, replaced instead with pooling heat that grew and spread. Lucius’s fingers threaded with hers, bracing them against the bed as his lips fastened to her throat. Her head lolled to the side, breaths shaking; she couldn’t catch her breath, not now, not when everything was so wild and new and hot - she hooked a knee up by his hips as he thrust over and over again, gaining speed but still so stiff and restrained -
“Don’t stop,” Paloma murmured, and he jerked forward in response. Harsher. A moan formed thick in her throat, which he swallowed as he moved up to kiss her mouth again: tongue sliding past her lips as if to drink up every noise that was coming fast out of her -
Lucius stuttered in his motions, going more tense for a half-second and struggling to breathe, and then he collapsed.
She waited a moment as a rush of wind and rain splattered against the window - she’d forgotten about the rain - before offering, tentatively, “Are - are you done?”
“Mmph.” It was a groan, really, deep from his chest, and it made her shiver. Then, finally, with eyes dark and dazed and perhaps a little sleepy, he gazed down at her as a smile began to form. “Alright, pet?”
“Mmm,” Paloma hummed back. “That was…”
“Excellent?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “For me.”
“It was for me, too.” Uncharacteristic bashfulness made his face seem less pale than usual - tenderly she traced over his cheeks with a finger, wanting to memorize him all over again… “Oh! I forgot.” Suddenly Lucius moved away, leaving her cold and shivering and empty - but, then again, watching him rush naked across the room had its benefits - Paloma snuggled deeper into the blankets, rubbing her sore thighs half-heartedly. He rummaged through his cloak for a moment, and then turned ‘round. His chest was glistening from sweat, she noticed fondly, and perhaps stared longer than she should have as he walked back to her.
“I bought this as a welcome-home gift for you a while back,” Lucius said. He sat on the edge of the bed, one knee propping himself at an angle as he opened his hand to reveal a bright yellow box tied with a purple bow.
“My favorite colors,” Paloma teased. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did, pet. I thought about you every day.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat, and at his grin she accepted the proffered box with no small sense of nervousness. As she pulled one end of the ribbon, he added,
“I was going to give it to you earlier - I don’t want you to think it’s some reward for - for our making love.”
“Never,” she vowed, though she laughed. “I - oh! Oh, it’s gorgeous!”
Nestled in a bed of spun glass, gold and silver shimmered around each other in a delicate chain: enchanted stars raced across the chain, one after another, giving the impression of shooting stars in a night sky. Unsure of whether she was even worthy of such a gift, Paloma traced a star with her fingertip. And then she looked up to see Lucius’s uncertain expression, his smile - and her heart leaped.
“Thank you, darling,” she murmured, and leaned forward to kiss him. “Won’t you put it on for me?”
“Mmm, of course.” His delight was palpable. He lifted the chain from the box with his long fingers, and when she held out her wrist he draped it gently overtop. The clasp clicked into place, and he ran his thumb over the chain against her skin, then lifted it to his lips to press a kiss to her sensitive flesh. “I am so glad you’re home, love.”
“Come lie down,” Paloma said, and scooted over so that he could have a place in the small bed - he grinned as he obeyed, and once the quilts were pulled up over them, Lucius dragged her close with an arm around her neck, breathing in deeply with his nose in her hair.
“I missed how sweet you smell,” he muttered.
But she put a finger to his lips - he quirked a brow, as if to say ‘are you trying to silence me?’ - and Paloma said, “We’re together now. There’s no need to muse on the past.”
“And we’ll see each other so often at the Ministry,” Lucius grinned. “I wonder just how often you’ll be fabricating business with the Auror department just to see me.”
“Oh!” she laughed, running her hand up his chest to rest on his heart. The gold and silver chain dragged against his skin. “Every day, I’m sure.”
“Good. I expect nothing less.”
With such relaxation in her bones and such warmth from both the crackling fire and her lover’s heat beside her, Paloma was drifting off within minutes. She couldn’t remember, not even in her dreams, such utter contentment in her soul - better than the rainy, fresh climate of England, Lucius was her home. His love and protection and devotion and affection - cradling her in such safety.
And it was full on display the next morning; when sunlight shone through the window soon after dawn, the storm having petered off some time in the night - his lips were all over her again to rouse her from sleep, his fingers beneath the covers to explore (for which she was grateful, slight soreness lingered until he rubbed it out.) The sun made his hair a whiter blond, his eyes a paler blue, and his skin nearly translucent - his grin was devastatingly handsome and clearly hungry, and it was so, so easy to let herself be swallowed...
“What time do you have to be back?” Lucius’s question was ragged as his nose trailed a path up the column of her throat and hot against her skin. He pulled away as Paloma tried to make herself present again, but the dancing sparks across the skin as her heart slowed, soaking in the orgasm that was making her so languid…
“I don’t,” she told him. Wrapped a strand of loose blond hair around her finger, and he grinned. “Well - Rextus is expecting me today.”
Lucius paused where he was trailing wet circles on the inside of her bare thigh, beneath the heavy shroud of the quilts. “Rextus?” he asked with a frown. “Your brother?”
“I’m renting a room in his flat.”
“Ah.” His pattern-making continued for a moment, and then he sighed as he brushed his knuckles up her belly and to her breasts. Paloma felt utterly weak, unable to even protest as he thumbed over each of her nipples, and then skated over her shoulder and down to pick up her limp hand, bringing it to his mouth. “And is Rextus going to allow you to have visitors?” A quirked brow as his lips kissed the tip of her index finger.
“He can’t decide that,” Paloma managed to say. Lucius grinned, and kissed her middle finger next. Eyes smoldering, and ready to devour her from the inside out -
“And will you have a curfew?” he asked next - little bolts of lighting from her fingers as he continued to kiss them; ring finger, then pinky, his gaze never leaving hers as it danced with delight as she shuddered at the simple sensation.
“He - he’s not my jailer , Lucius - ”
Her wrist now, where he lingered and then flicked his tongue between the tendons there. Paloma was flexing her opposite hand as if to simmer down her reaction to him. Glancing back up with his teeth bared in a feral smile, Lucius’s voice was innocent,
“Is your job going to take you out of London very often?”
“Sometimes, I think, I don’t know how often - Lucius , I can’t think when you do that!”
“Do what?” More hot, damp kisses up her bare arm as Paloma moaned aloud in protest. “Oh, you mean this?”
“I - I - ” Months of not seeing him had intensified her sensitivity to his touch - she gnawed on her lip as if it would keep her grounded, though he seemed intent the opposite -
“Good,” Lucius said smugly, his nose nudging the inside of her elbow before he used his tongue to trace the blue web of veins visible through her skin. Grinning, he peered up at her and practically purred, “It means you’re affected by me.”
Paloma sniffed, rubbing her thighs together to try to relieve the tension growing between them. Mostly she just bumped her bare legs against his, a reminder that he was as naked as she was beneath the covers. “As if you need more reason to be insufferably arrogant,” she sniped back, and his laugh filled the room with warm amusement.
“Is there a time you have to be out of this room?” he asked next, the question more a croon than anything as his palm slid up her arm to her shoulder, to her neck - her hair to tug her face down to his.
“There - I - after breakfast, I think.”
“How does one go about breakfast, here?” Lucius was peppering kiss after kiss around her mouth, likely trying to drive her insane - and it was working. Paloma sucked in a breath.
“There’s a bell by the fireplace,” she gasped. “The innkeeper said just to pull it once for breakfast - ”
“And what if,” he continued in a low voice, rolling her onto her back - pressed against the bed as her heart threatened to thump right out of her ribcage, and he grinned down at her as if he knew - “I had you for breakfast?”
“I don’t think that will fill your belly,” Paloma said tartly, prodding a finger in his stomach beneath the covers. He laughed again, burying his face into her neck as his legs nudged hers apart to be closer, closer...her head rolled back at the sheer pleasure of the sensation, a moan slipping out between her lips as she clung to him, fingers digging into his back.
Lucius was smiling as he slid down her body, eyes peeping up at her as if to gauge her reaction as he scattered kisses down her breastbone. She couldn’t speak - not when he looked at her like this - and his pale hair trailed along her bare waist and hips, tickling the sensitive skin there. He dawdled at her navel, baring his teeth into something sinister that raised all the hairs on her body - but in the most delicious of ways.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a ragged voice, clutching the covers in her fists.
“I’m going to try something.”
“Oh - alright.”
“Tell me if you don’t like it.”
“Okay.”
A kiss, dragging lower and lower as his eyes remained fixed on hers, and she trembled -
“Actually,” Lucius said, lifting his head as Paloma positively groaned. “Do you touch yourself, pet?”
Heat crept across her neck and up into her cheeks. “I - I have before.” No reason to explain that it was never as satisfying as when he did it -
“Will you show me?” He scooted back, his legs clearly hanging off the end of the bed as he rested one of her knees on his shoulder. A kiss to the side of it as he gave an expectant though patient smile. “I only want to make sure I do it right,” he said quietly.
Paloma swallowed her confusion; he’d touched her before to very satisfying results, what was the issue now? But, running her bottom lip through her teeth - it was those eyes, clear blue and soft, that gave her the courage to reach down, sliding her fingers between her legs. Lucius’s gaze dropped, brows furrowing as if studying for an exam.
She was sensitive. Horribly, awfully sensitive - or maybe that was simply because of the way he was watching her, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as she slid her fingers over herself. A jolt of fiery pleasure yanked a whimper from her throat, and her head pressed back against the pillow.
“That’s it,” Lucius said, but his voice cracked. “Keep going, pet.”
She should feel shame - perhaps not that she’d done this before, but that she was doing it now , right in front of him - that he’d asked made a difference, Paloma thought muddily to herself as her fingers grew slick and wet and she reached out for him with her opposite hand - he clenched it tight in his, humming in approval as she began to pant.
“Stop,” he told her hoarsely. “Stop there.”
Blinking her eyes back open, she only had a split-second to see the ravenous hunger in his face before he caught her wrist in his hand, bringing it to his mouth. Paloma’s breath caught as his hot, rough tongue dragged over her fingers, cleaning them of her own slick and sucking off the dregs of it. She felt utterly boneless, and weak, and wildly baffled by this - but he was grinning as he released her hand, crawling forward and tucking her knees around his head.
“I’ve dreamt of this,” Lucius purred, and even the mere brush of his breath against the sensitive, throbbing flesh made her moan aloud. “You taste delicious, you know that, pet? And I want more.”
“ Lucius - ”
But he was too busy to respond as the first flick of his tongue made her careen, back arching off the bed -
Was that - was he -
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, trying, trying, trying to hold herself together - his hands found hers in the covers and squeezed them tightly, even as the room began to white out around the edges of the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of it all - to have him doing this - her body responding in ways she didn’t even know it could as if he were breathing on embers to flare them into a blazing inferno -
Paloma came with a cry, and Lucius didn’t let up until she was mumbling and whimpering, trying to tear herself away from his relentless mouth. She hissed at him as he chuckled, hoisting himself up onto his haunches as he wiped the glistening residue from his chin with the back of his head. Staring down at her, and she was completely splayed open - he just grinned, the dark look in his eyes more promising than dangerous. As her heart slowed, pushing her damp bangs from her face, Paloma’s gaze drifted lower to see the length of him, tall and proud - she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.
“What?” Lucius asked, eyes narrowing.
“It only - it doesn’t look how I expected.” With this second release she was feeling utterly lazy and smug, and she yawned as she stretched her arms overhead in the warm, buttery sunshine of the single window above the bed. He watched every movement, everywhere on her body - though he lingered on her face and her breasts.
“Did you like it?” he asked next, voice lowering.
“Couldn’t you tell?” Paloma teased.
“I want to hear it from you.”
“Yes. I liked it. Very much.”
Lucius smirked at that, running his fingers through his mussed blond hair.
“I didn’t even know it was...possible,” she admitted then, and his smirk turned wolfish. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I heard about it from my classmates at school. It was...a popular pastime amongst the older Slytherins.”
Paloma pursed her lips. “And I thought we were skirting the line of appropriate behavior.”
“Why, what did Hufflepuffs do for fun?”
“Played cards,” Paloma said firmly, and he chuckled at her joke. But the sudden disquiet in her chest wouldn’t go unspoken, and quietly she asked, “Did you participate in...that?”
“No,” Lucius said. “I didn’t want to. Not until you.”
It warmed her better than the sun. Nearly as well as his loving. She didn’t bother hiding her smile as it bloomed on her face, and his returning smile was fond and affectionate, though he began to run his hand up her bare thigh. Not to tantalize, this time. Just an absent touch. Something natural.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t discover this at school,” Paloma said - she sat forward to tug on his arms, bringing him down to her level. He didn’t protest, settling in beside her with stroking fingers smoothing her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think I would’ve passed any N.E.W.T.s at all.”
“Me neither,” Lucius murmured. “In fact, perhaps it would be best if we quit our respective jobs and only had sex from now on.”
She giggled, looping an arm around his neck as his lips curled sweetly, and he dragged her into his lap. Skin to skin like it was nothing - but it was everything . He was humming as his eyes raked slowly over her face.
“You can’t stop looking at me,” Paloma said gently. “Am I an exam you’re studying for?”
“No, I just don’t want to forget.” His fingers were stroking circles on her legs. “You look a bit different than when you left. Older. Prettier. I want to memorize you all over again.”
Beaming, she leaned forward to press her forehead to his, and Lucius planted a feathery kiss to her cheek as she murmured, “You’ll have time.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Paloma told him firmly. “Now - can we have breakfast first, and then I’ll take care of that for you?” She nodded at his erection, which was looking rather painful to her - and that made Lucius laugh aloud. More kisses now, growling nips over her face as she squirmed and shrieked with laughter, and she found herself pinned beneath him barely a heartbeat later. The ends of his hair tickled her face.
“Maybe I don’t need breakfast,” Lucius said then, voice slipping into a croon that made her feel more bare than actually being naked - she sucked in one breath after another. “Maybe I already had it.”
“Maybe so,” she allowed, though a blush threatened at his innuendo. “But I didn’t.”
“Hmm.” His brows pinched, and after a moment of steady consideration, he slid off of her, helping her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed as her head spun. He was the one to tug on the bellpull by the fireplace, which made no noise audible to them - but only a few moments later several dishes appeared on the little table in the corner, filling the room with the most wondrous aroma.
Paloma’s belly rumbled - she was starving.
“Are you sure you want that sausage?” Lucius remarked, eyes on her as she pranced across the room to fill a plate. “Because mine is bigger.”
“ Degenerate ,” she sniffed, though she did glance down at - at his . She did want it. But she wanted food, too. “Who knew that Lucius Malfoy had such a dirty mind and a filthy mouth?”
“Oh, I never hid it,” he said. Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms ‘round her shoulder to nuzzle his nose into her hair. “But it’s just for you, pet.”
“I am so flattered.”
“You should be. I’m in awfully high demand.”
“By all those criminals you catch,” Paloma teased - her plate full of steaming scones with jam and, indeed, sausages - she spun in his arms to lift her brows at him. He huffed a laugh.
“Maybe. Is that for me, love?”
“ No. Make your own plate.”
Lucius grumbled and whined, but he did - and promptly perched on the bed beside her as they ate. It felt naughty; the being naked together, the crumbs littering the sheets. And the way he looked at her: it made her shiver.
“A thought for a thought?” he asked quietly.
“I’m thinking,” Paloma said, licking a smear of raspberry jam from her fingertip (and noting the way his eyes followed the movement), “Last night when I was out walking. I was lonely. And I thought of you. And here you are.”
A single brow quirked. “Almost like magic.”
She laughed at the pleased expression on his face. “Yes, Lucius. Almost like magic. What’s your thought, then?”
“That if you ever try to leave the country again, I’m following you.” His voice was light as he said it, a smile turning his mouth lopsided as he awaited her reaction, but something twisted in her at the sight: Lucius was completely, utterly, serious . It felt sweet but still...uncertain.
“I have no reason to leave,” Paloma told him. “And certainly no reason to leave without you.”
It wasn’t quite a promise, but it was reassurance. Enough to broaden his smile. She stood, swiping his empty plate from his hands to return to the table - she knew without looking that he was watching. The burn of it swept over her body, and despite that morning...she wasn’t satisfied. Not entirely. So she turned, sauntered right back to him and fell into his arms with a laugh, sending him backwards into the bed as he pretended to groan. From there it was easy to scatter kisses across his bare chest, feeling the tickle of the fine hair there - his fingers were in her hair, looping it into a twist to pull over her shoulder, getting it out of the way - Paloma beamed up at him, sliding her hands down his ribs, ready to push herself off.
“Aren’t you a cat that’s got the cream?” Lucius murmured, but he was clearly smug.
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
Nerves skittered through her veins, but she clamped each one out with a firm, figurative slap: he’d done this to her, and so she would do it to him. Already against her belly he was erect again, hissing as she slid her hand between them to grip him gently.
“Pet…” he whispered, almost like a warning as his blue eyes flared with - with yearning. She knew it. Knew that look. He tensed beneath her as she stroked him up and down, savoring the feel of his hardness in her palm; the smooth, taut skin, the heat of it.
When Paloma kissed the tip, watching his every reaction, he shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut.
“If I watch you, I’ll finish before you’ve started,” Lucius grumbled. “Blimey, P - Pa - ” But his words were cut off as she flattened her tongue against the base to slide it up, up - he still trembled, a groan parting his lips as she flicked the tip of her tongue in that slit. Beneath the rigged head, suckling and nibbling her way around to memorize the feeling, and every little twitch of his response.
“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong,” she murmured.
“N...n...n - n - no, I don’t - erm, think you are…” The words were choppy coming out of his mouth as she traced a similar path on each side. His brows were pinched together, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as he slung an arm over his face. It was just as interesting to watch his reaction than to explore him with her mouth - Paloma grew distracted by the sheen of sweat building on his pale throat, especially when she nudged the tip of him past her lips -
All she knew about this was what she’d learned in magazines. But it seemed that those magazines had been right about how it affected men…
A few moments later he hissed, sitting with a feral look on his face as he gripped her arms, tugging her forward to crash his mouth against hers - Paloma gasped at the suddenness of it, the streak of heat between her legs - Lucius made as if to push her back against the bed, but she tensed, gripping his shoulders as she tore her lips from his.
“No,” she said. “Lay back.”
His eyes were wary, and glazed over - but he settled back against the pillows with a scarcely-concealed growl as she swung a leg over his hips. It took a few tries to get him inside of her properly; Lucius sucking in sharp inhales whenever she got it wrong. And then he’d laugh, maybe a little nervously, perhaps in relief - and then Paloma was laughing past her clumsiness - when he did, at least, slide in to the hilt and he went completely silent, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. Eyes met in a stunning, shimmering bond between them.
“Alright?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said back hoarsely.
His hands came up to caress her breasts as she moved, learning the rhythm of her hips. It didn’t take long to find the movement that felt like divinity to her, and drew ragged grunts from him - the way his hair was strewn, the way his gaze glittered as if drunk on the very sight of her…
Paloma lowered herself against his chest, offering her mouth for a kiss (which he gladly accepted) as she continued to undulate, feeling his thickness, deeper and deeper - again and again he stroked against that part of her that turned her to jelly, humming between their lips as the heat built, and his hands were guiding her from where they dug into her rear, his enthusiasm so very clear and so very lovely - she was laughing as he began to pant, but it cut off abruptly as an orgasm swept through her, pulsing and aching and thirsty as he thrusted upward with a groan.
“You’re perfect,” Lucius babbled, and in her giddy haze she just laughed more. “You’re perfect.”
He was panting as he finished, and Paloma kissed him again, tangling her fingers into his hair as he traced patterns up her bare back, following the curve of her spine. It was quiet now, though far away she supposed she could hear voices in the tavern below. But that was far away. And this was here, where love reigned, and it did not bother her.
He moaned, a little pitifully, as he grasped her by the waist to roll into the bed - one leg between hers, now, like he used to lay with her at the lake at Hogwarts years ago - Lucius propped up his head in a hand, smiling down at her sweet and kind and hers . She only ran her thumb along his jaw and the rough bite of his morning whiskers - faint, but there.
“Can we do this every weekend?” Paloma asked, fluttering her lashes just a bit - he laughed at that.
“Likely not,” Lucius told her, but fond all the same. “I’m often on assignment on weekends. But...when I’m free…” And he lifted a brow, eyes twinkling that pretty blue as he kept his gaze fastened on her, lowering his head to sneak a lick of her nipple. Immediately it tingled and hardened under the rough warmth of his tongue, and Paloma held back a giggle at the sensation. “I’m glad you’re home,” he said suddenly. “Have I told you that?”
“I think you did,” she mused, snuggling her head against his bare shoulder. “But I can always stand to hear it again.”