Narcissa hears it as she’s coming in from the gardens: hushed, rhythmic gasps audible even from outside the bedroom door. She doesn’t have to wonder what it is; the sounds of Lucius’ panting, the soft, throaty groans he makes when he’s aroused, are as familiar as her own breathing.
She opens the door carefully and finds her husband sprawled across their bed: bottom half bare while a shirt covers his torso, the ends pushed haphazardly up toward his waist while his back is arched, his hand pumping over a long, leaking cock. His features are twisted with pleasure, his pale skin flushed a gentle red as he bucks into his own touch. If Narcissa were to guess, she’d say he was close to completion.
She stays there, standing half-hidden by the bedroom entrance, and watches for a moment before she speaks. “This is the work you had to do?”
It’s light-hearted. His eyes open at the sound of her voice, body faltering. Her lips curl, the smile small, soft. Teasing.
“Don’t stop on my account,” she says, but Lucius slows, stills. Narcissa walks toward the bed and settles on the edge, the mattress dipping as she leans over her husband, her graze trailing from his erect cock to the torso that peeks behind his half-buttoned shirt, the flush high on his cheeks, the sweat gathered at his hairline. She feels her own body heat, the pink tip of her tongue peeking between her lips.
“You said you’d be another hour,” is what Lucius says. It’s low, breathless, hints of desperation clinging to his voice; Narcissa knows he finds it hard to stop once he’s started.
She hums, distant. “I reconsidered the second fountain,” she says, waving her hand and adding, Too crowded as an explanation. She gets no response, but she hadn’t been expecting one. She can see Lucius twitching, muscles taut as he breathes heavily, his body aching for release. She reaches out and pushes his hands away, pleased when Lucius lifts his arms, keeps them above his head; obeying the implicit order.
“Tell me, darling,” Narcissa drawls, her long, thin fingers wrapping around his prick and squeezing lightly. “Are you really so greedy?” She twists her wrist, is careful to do it slow. It’s one of her favourite things, this: torturing him when he’s on the edge. She likes to know what it takes to make him beg. “Are two lovers not enough?”
The way Lucius reacts to her touch is almost natural, she thinks. Ingrained. Thoughtless. His whole body leans toward her, his breath catching on a groan. “Neither of you were around,” he says. There’s a hint of accusation to it.
Narcissa smiles, a soft laugh bubbling in her chest. She masks it with a hum and leans to kiss him, her tongue licking its way into his mouth as her hand settles on a slow, steady rhythm. Lucius bucks up, a silent request for more, but Narcissa shakes her head. “So impatient,” she tuts. “What’s got you so worked up?”
She doesn’t think he’ll answer, but the response is immediate; his voice breaks into a sigh as he says, “You.” Narcissa half-expects it to be a lie. She is beautiful, yes, has likely been the fantasy of many, but it’s an easy answer, she thinks. One to be expected, even: a safe way to keep the embarrassing truth to himself.
“Very flattering, mon chéri,” she murmurs, shifting her hand so it’s only the tips of her fingers touching him, the soft skin running along his abdomen, “but don’t lie. What were you thinking about before I walked in?”
She stays fixed on Lucius’ face, catalogues the way his head tilts back, the way his eyes have darkened, the heat in his gaze doubled. Interesting, Narcissa thinks, feeling the muscles of his abdomen spasm. It’s not often she sees that look.
“Not a lie,” Lucius says, his usual posh tones nowhere in sight as she takes his cock back in her hand. “I was imagining you…” She slowly returns her attention to his prick, her thumb swiping across the head, gathering the precome there. “…and Severus.”
The turn of her head is quick, sharp. Narcissa looks back to Lucius’ face, intrigue prickling beneath her skin. There’s something about the way he said it, she thinks. Something that suggests… “Severus and I together?” she says, and knows from the way his body reacts that she’d got it right. She turns to him more keenly, not missing the way uncertainty flickers across his expression. “How often do you indulge in this fantasy?” she asks. She can’t help it; there is a strange curiosity bubbling inside her, an unexpected heat pooling her stomach.
It doesn’t look as if Lucius will answer, his attention focused instead on the way she’s touching him, the arousal she can read so clearly on his body. She squeezes his cock, the touch almost harsh, and it rips a groan from him. “All the time,” he says, a half-gasp. He rocks against her hand.
Narcissa eases her hold and quickens her pace: a reward for the truthful answer. She leans to kiss him again, the next question murmured against his mouth. “And where are you in this scenario?”
Lucius lets out a heavy exhale, the breath hitting her cheek as she nips at his jaw. His voice is thick the way it gets when they’re in bed, hands shifting to get a hold of her. “With you,” he tells her, and Narcissa hums low in her throat.
She can feel him tensing beneath her. “Watching,” he chokes out. “Instructing.”
Narcissa pulls back to arch an eyebrow, her cunt clenching in interest. “Instructing?” she repeats, and Lucius nods, but it’s all she gets before his mouth drops open in a silent groan, his body shaking lightly as come splatters her hand, his chest, their bed. She works him through it, watching as he twitches, a sheen of sweat covering his body.
It’s not until his breathing has evened out that Narcissa speaks again. “Instructing?” she prompts, catching his eye. It’s clear from her tone that she expects an answer.
two weeks later.
It doesn’t take much convincing.
Narcissa had caught Severus not long after the incident, had stopped him in the drawing room before he could make his way to Lucius’ study and ruin her chance at secrecy. She’d informed him of the revelations, smiling as disbelief flickered in dark eyes. That’s what he wants? he’d asked, and she’d been able to see his analysis of the information: the uncertainty weighed against the benefits, the implications of what it would mean for their arrangement, the quick, subtle glance at her low-cut robe.
It’s his birthday in two weeks, she’d said, the proposition clear. His agreement had arrived via owl the very next day.
That’s how they find themselves here.
“Kiss her, Severus.”
They’ve barely begun and Lucius’ voice is already ragged. Narcissa can hear the underlying excitement to his tone, the veiled desire rearing its head now that it has the opportunity. She’d suspected his gift would go over well, but she hadn’t thought he’d be quite so… overt with his appreciation.
Not that she’s complaining.
Severus hesitates for only a second, meeting her eye first, as if needing permission from her, too. She offers a minuscule nod of her head and that’s all he needs, his hand reaching to take hold of the back of her neck as he leans down, his mouth meeting hers. She hadn’t been expecting anything, but the eager, attentive press of his lips comes as a bit of a surprise. It’s focused in a way that borders unusual, she thinks. Full of determination, as if his only goal in that moment is to take her breath away. It’s not something she considers a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.
While she’d been certain of Lucius’ interest, she’d had doubts about this part. She and Severus were friends, yes – close ones, in fact – but they had never done this. Their triad arrangement is a specific one, the agreement she has with Lucius full of negotiated conditions. It’d started as something almost trivial, brought about by their shared interest in both men and women and their mutual desire for more; the two of them free to take on casual lovers so long as the other was told. It had stayed that way until Lucius expressed his interest in Severus. Narcissa had had her suspicions well before he’d approached the topic, had watched for years as they balanced on the brink of something deeper than friendship. She’d been the least surprised of all of them when they’d ended up renegotiating, once with her and Lucius alone, a third time with Severus present.
Now, they’ve settled into their relationship: Lucius has them both, separately, while Narcissa is still free to seek another lover when she wishes. Severus is in a similar position, she knows, though she can’t say with any certainty if he ever utilises Lucius’ permission, certainly not the way she does. But in all their time together, it’s never strayed from that; she’s never joined them. In fact, she’s had private doubts as to whether or not Severus would be open to the attentions of a woman.
Those doubts all disappear now, as his hand slips beneath the opening of her robe and settles on her waist, Narcissa’s body burning at both the touch and the way she can feel Lucius’ gaze follow it. He offers quiet praise: a low, appreciative hum, a murmured good, a quiet more.
“Remove her robe,” he says, and Severus reacts instantly. It’s pulled from her shoulders and discarded, Lucius taking the fabric and draping it over the arm of the chair he sits in. “Now yours, as well.”
It’s only once they’re both mostly naked that Lucius stands. He remains completely clothed, dressed in a long, high-necked robe, his boots heavy and loud as they thump against the floor. He circles them, assessing, and anticipation prickles beneath Narcissa’s skin. She’s never been particularly patient, at least not when it came to her own pleasure.
Lucius comes to a stop behind Severus, his hands resting at his waist much like Severus holds Narcissa’s. “Put your hands on her breasts,” is the order, Lucius speaking into Severus’ ear. Narcissa sees the slight shiver as hot breath runs down Severus’ neck. “Above the bra. Start gently, or we’ll never hear the end of it. Good.”
Narcissa can’t help the gentle laugh as Severus does as he’s told. His touch is soft, his hands smaller than her husband’s. When his palm brushes the skin beside her bra strap, she feels a flash of calluses: Severus’ hands worn with hard work a way a Malfoy’s would never be. Her bra is thin, lacy, more for show than anything else. Her nipples harden as Severus cups her breasts, every shift of his hand following Lucius’ instruction perfectly. She sighs softly, the sound breaking into a soft moan as Lucius moves to stand behind her, instead, his hands moving up her spine and unhooking her bra without notice. His arm winds around her, hands joining Severus’ as he turns to kiss her neck, the wool of his robe rough against her bare skin.
“Bed, hm?” Lucius says, words posed as a question though they all know it isn’t one. He nudges Severus’ hands aside and looks at the other man. “Remove the rest of your clothing and sit against the headboard.”
Severus steps back to do as he’s told, and Narcissa watches with interest as his pants are discarded, the sight of his half-hard cock sending a jolt through the heat in her stomach; it’s thicker than Lucius’, she’d guess, if a bit shorter. More than adequate, at any rate.
Lucius pulls her bra away, dropping it to the floor, and Narcissa twists to face him. “Impatient, are you?” she asks, playing innocent. He pinches her nipple in answer.
“Straddle him,” Lucius tells her, his hand dropping so a thumb can dip beneath the line of her knickers. “Take these off first.”
There is something intoxicating about being watched like this, about lying naked with another person while Lucius looks on, perfectly intact aside from the roughness of his voice, the heat in his eyes, the bulge covered by his outer robe. The bed is big enough that he can lie with them without touching, can lounge comfortably as he tells Severus to kiss along Narcissa’s neck, her chest, to run his hands along her thighs, to instruct Narcissa on where to touch Severus, on how to get a reaction out of him.
It’s a steady build of heat: slow, sensual. Lucius obviously wants to make it last, that much Narcissa can tell. He’s likely thinking of it as some form of retribution, the bastard: a way to get her back for all the times she’s done something similar to him. It’d be the cherry on top, she knows.
Severus is leaving small, sharp bites along her chest, his tongue soothing the damage as Lucius moves closer to inspect. “I want her wet, Severus,” he says, his hand returning to Narcissa’s back and kneading along the knots of her spine. “I want her cunt to drip. I want her to beg.”
Narcissa moans. Can’t help it. She rocks against Severus’ thigh, aching for more. For something. She looks down and sees Lucius pulling Severus’ mouth away, his free hand taking hold of the other man’s and directing it to her cunt. She gasps at the press of fingers, pleasure warming her from the inside out as Severus dips inside, the pad of his thumb rubbing her clit as Lucius tells him how she likes it.
“Good,” Lucius praises, shifting so he can press a kiss to Severus’ shoulder. “Slip one inside – just one. Fuck her with it.”
Narcissa groans, one of Severus’ thin fingers not enough to satisfy the ache inside her. She rocks against his hand and looks down, sees desire etched across his expression, the black of his eyes glittering in the soft light. His cock, now fully hard, is a steady pressure against her leg.
“Tell me how it feels,” Lucius says. “Both of you.”
Severus grunts the word, hot, as Narcissa swears, blue eyes glaring at her husband as wetness gathers at her thighs. “I need more,” she says, almost breathless. And because she knows he wants her to, “Please.”
Lucius smirks, pleased. He reaches for Severus’ hand again, but this time it’s to pull him away. “Lie on your back,” he tells him, motioning for Narcissa to move aside for a moment. It’s only when Severus is lying comfortably again that he adds, “Sit on his face, Cissa.”
Narcissa swallows the moan itching her throat and complies. She looks down, sees Severus lick his lips as her knees settle on either side of his head, his hands shifting to take a hold on her thighs.
“Open her up,” Lucius says.
Severus pulls her down, head tilting up, his tongue licking at her folds before dipping inside. Her breath hitches, her hands reaching for the headboard to steady herself as Severus laps at her juices. Here, at least, she can see the signs of his inexperience. He’s almost uncertain, she thinks. Not completely clueless but possibly out of practice; or maybe she’s just accustomed to Lucius’ confident mouth. Either way, it adds to the charm, the experimental thrust of his tongue making her moan.
“Lick her clit,” Lucius says. There is more heat to his voice, now. A deepened excitement. Narcissa can almost feel it. “Make her drip.”
Severus does, his tongue swiping at the little nub and making Narcissa’s back arch. She rocks against his face for more, a jerky, unexpected moan joining in with her rhythmic gasps. It’d come from Severus, and when Narcissa looks, she finds Lucius with his hand on Severus’ cock, his mouth open and tongue flat against the leaking head. She shivers at the sight and Lucius pulls back when he catches her looking.
“When she’s ready,” he says, meeting Narcissa’s eye, “I’ll have you fuck her on her hands and knees.” He shifts so he can keep a hand on Severus’ cock and curls the other around Narcissa’s neck. “I want her to leak with your come,” he tells Severus. His thumb runs along Narcissa’s throat, up to her chin. He grasps it and brings her closer to him, his lips brushing hers when she speaks next. “Leave her wet and ready for me to fuck.”
He kisses her at the same time Severus sucks her clit, and Narcissa comes, gushing against Severus’ face as her body trembles with pleasure. She can feel Lucius smiling against her mouth, can feel the satisfaction that radiates off him like an aura. She breathes heavy, legs wobbly as Severus laps at her juices.
“Kneel,” Lucius says, nodding toward the empty side of the bed. “Keep your head bowed and arch your back.”
She isn’t the type to scramble, but she is quick. She climbs off Severus with practiced ease and follows Lucius’ orders, putting most of her weight on her elbows as she gets into position. Behind her, she can hear the sounds of kissing, can only just get a glimpse of Lucius with his hand buried in Severus’ hair, mouth rough as he kisses him, as he tastes Narcissa on his tongue. He pulls away with a groan and nudges Severus in Narcissa’s direction, hands reaching to discard his outer robe, leaving only his shirt and trousers on.
“Wider, Cissa,” Lucius says, his voice thick, rough. Narcissa complies, the mattress shifting with Severus’ weight as he settles behind her. “Don’t wait,” Lucius tells him, and it’s all the warning Narcissa gets before a thick cock is pressing at her cunt.
Severus slides in with a single thrust, groaning loudly as Narcissa does the same. He keeps her there for a moment, allows her a moment to adjust to the new sensation before his hips start to rock, experimental at first.
“Fuck her,” Lucius hisses, walking around the bed to get a better view, and Severus pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in: not harsh, but not far from it, either. “Yes,” Lucius says, and Severus repeats the motion, again, again, again. Makes Narcissa’s mouth drop open in pleasure. “Good. Tell me how it feels.”
Severus lets slip a string of swears, his grip tightening, and Lucius huffs what could almost pass as a laugh. Narcissa merely moans, but it’s not a sufficient enough answer, apparently, because Lucius moves to stand in front of her. “Words, Narcissa,” he says, gathering her hair in his hands, and Narcissa shivers.
“Amazing,” she says. “Circe. Need—”
“More,” Lucius finishes for her. He drags his gaze to Severus. “Harder, Severus. She’s not going to break. Don’t make the mistake of thinking she will.”
Severus grunts, pulling out of her to slam back in. Narcissa arches, her cunt clenching as Severus fucks into her, his grip painful, his hold pulling her back with every thrust, trying to get deeper. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, with their rough breathing and erratic moans.
“Look at you,” Lucius says, his voice warm with affection, appreciation, arousal. He uses his grip of Narcissa’s hair to lift her head, to force her to look at him. “The sight you make,” he says, as if she were one of the world’s Seven Wonders. He looks over her body, to where Severus is, and his voice is just as affectionate when he adds, “Both of you.”
He reaches for his fly with his free hand, then, pushing it open and pulling his cock out as if he can’t wait any longer. Narcissa’s mouth waters at the sight, mouth open before he can ask it of her, and Lucius groans appreciatively as her lips wrap around the leaking head of his prick. He doesn’t fuck her mouth like she expects him too, just thrusts shallowly, the force of Severus fucking into her sending her further forward.
“Come, Severus,” Lucius says. “Fill her with it. I need—”
Narcissa shudders, cunt clenching around Severus’ cock. There’s another swear behind her, Severus’ rhythm growing erratic as Lucius continues to talk, to coax him to orgasm. When it happens, it’s with a long, loud grunt, his body tensing as he holds her flush against his pelvis and spills inside of her, his come hot and welcome; it makes her groan, low and guttural.
It makes Lucius groan, too. Or maybe it’s the vibrations of her mouth around his cock. Either way, he steps back, looks desperate. “Fuck,” he says, breathless. He makes to move forward. “Severus, pu—”
But he doesn’t have to say it. Severus slips out of her and drops to the mattress beside them, breathing heavily as Narcissa is left aching. Lucius’ fingers replace Severus’ cock only seconds after, two fingers slipping inside with ease and shifting so the mess of their mixed arousal drips down her thighs. Narcissa expects him to fuck her, to take Severus’ place instantly, but that’s not what happens. Instead, his hands spread her further, his tongue licking at her entrance, lapping at Severus’ come, at the evidence of her own arousal. She gasps, pressing back against him, but Lucius pulls away.
“Your back,” he says, impatient. It’s the tone he uses when he’s trying not to show just how desperate he is. “Cissa—”
She does as told, thankful for the new position; she doesn’t think she could’ve held herself up for much longer. On her back, she can see the wild look to Lucius’ eyes, the way desire warps his expression as he pulls her to the edge of the bed.
“I didn’t think you’d be so desperate for sloppy seconds,” Severus says, sounding as if he’s still catching his breath. Narcissa laughs. Wants to, at least. What comes out is a breathless little huff, the sound breaking off into another moan as Lucius’ cock slips inside her with a single thrust.
Her breath hitches, her body melting as Lucius fucks her without preamble. She shakes with it, mind muddled with pleasure, her head rolling against the mattress to find Severus watching with greedy, curious eyes, his pale skin still flushed from exertion.
“Beautiful,” Lucius grunts. “If you could see yourse—”
He breaks off, words escaping him as he pulls her as close as she can get. Narcissa reaches for Severus, drawing him in for another kiss. She hears Lucius groan as Severus licks into her mouth, as he shifts his weight to cup one of her breasts.
“Fuck,” Lucius says. “Fuck.” His hand finds her clit, two fingers rubbing as he continues to rock against her. Narcissa groans, arching against the both of them, her skin burning hot as pleasure overwhelms her. “I want you to come on my cock,” Lucius says, and Narcissa pulls away from Severus to nod. It’s mostly mindless; she’s likely to agree with whatever he has to say when in her current state.
Severus moves to kiss her neck, down her chest, draw a nipple into his mouth. Her hand tangles in the lank strands of his hair, pulling him closer as her body rocks with Lucius’ thrusts. She feels the heat pooling, feels herself nearing the brink. Severus bites, only gently, and it’s the thing that sends her over the edge. A tremor runs through her, her cunt clenching around Lucius as she gushes, her body going tense as Lucius’ thrusts stutter, as his grip slips. His orgasm follows not long after, his come filling her the same way Severus’ had, and it’s almost too much. She has to nudge Severus away, is too sensitive to handle his attentions with Lucius stroking her used cunt.
He drops forward to kiss her, the press of his mouth messy, more teeth and tongue than anything else. “Beautiful,” he says again, resting against her for a moment, and Narcissa grins, breathless, as Lucius reaches for Severus the same way she had, drawing him in the join the kiss.
Narcissa is the last to leave the shower, the last to join them on the (cleaned) bed. She settles in the free spot beside Lucius, her arm draping over his torso, her hand meeting Severus’ in the middle. “That was…” She trails, at a loss to describe it.
Severus snorts. “Certainly one way to celebrate,” he says.
“Mm,” Lucius agrees. He looks between them, a drowsy, self-satisfied smile on his face. “We ought to do it again,” he says, a mischievous glint in his grey eyes. “Narcissa’s birthday isn’t too far away.”
Narcissa laughs, a huff of a thing. She strokes mindless patterns against Lucius’ chest, looks over him to meet Severus’ eye. “Maybe he can go in the middle,” she says, not missing the look of intrigue on Lucius’ face, the way it’s mirrored in Severus’, albeit more subtly.
“It’s one way to shut him up,” Severus says, in lieu of a real agreement.
Lucius huffs. “I think we’ve established you both rather enjoy my talking,” he says, waving a hand between them as if to say, see. Narcissa leans to kiss the top of his hair.
“This is why you can’t indulge him,” she says to Severus. “It goes to his head.”