Title: Like Father, Like Son

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Lucius/Draco

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters created by J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from the use of them.

Warnings: Yes, this is a perverted, evil incest fic that I itched to write. I hate it. I hate the thought of a father and son doing this sort of thing to each other. But Lucius the Muse demanded I write it. Bleg.

A/N: Dedicated to Lucius Malfoy. Gods know you deserve anything sick and evil (except in ‘Legacy...’ you’re cool and mine to control there...) This is a sort of back-story to my Harry/Draco fic, ‘Sooner or Later.’ It is not necessary to read it by any means, but it’ll help when I continue the saga.

****

Draco Malfoy, at fifteen and angelically beautiful, had never had a crush. He had never been infatuated with any of the whoring and attractive girls that threw themselves at him relentlessly. Draco was also *not* a virgin.

It was seemingly impossibly to even briefly think of this boy as a virgin once you saw him. Draco’s aura of sultry boredom kindled whatever fleeting feelings you may have for him, and sometimes not even him, but a certain section of his very fair and very feline body. Draco was as hot as a bitch in heat, and everyone knew, but no one cared. Principally Draco.

Draco favored blondes who were fair in complexion, kin to his own flaxen skin and hair. It gave him no end of a thrill to look at one of his many mirrors amidst the gleaming and fucking pale bodies, looking ghostly in the throes of ecstasy.

Summers, Draco thought, were a crime against his very nature. Lucius was possessive of his son nearly to the point of what could be called jealousy, and successfully banned him from female company when he stayed at Malfoy Manor during the summer.

“Do you think I want everyone in Britain to know my son is a slut?” Lucius was a Malfoy even in arguments, not a strand of icy-looking hair out of place, and looking distinctly bored, but Draco thought he detected a pulse throbbing at his fathers’ neck.

“Dad, really.” Draco idly ran his manicured fingers over the leather of the armchair. “I’m well informed of your own exploits in youth. I’m well informed also that I am a Malfoy and therefore, anything I do wrong can be put with little more than a...” Draco snapped his fingers. His father had the decency not to flush.

“Nevertheless, you are my son and I’m allowed the say. You shouldn’t be proud of the fact that you can whore yourself with virtually no consequence,” he said sharply.

“Oh father- lighten up. We gave those girls’ carrying my bastards money with my monthly allowance.” Draco smiled cheerfully, as if this solved everything.

“Draco, you vex me,” Lucius said, looking completely un-vexed. “I’m going for a swim to cool my head.”

“Sure.”

“And you will *not* join me.” Lucius sat up from his desk and shot a temperamental glance at his son.

“Oh.” Draco pouted. “Pity, that.”

“The point of swimming alone is to calm down over you. It doesn’t work when you’re there, bitching over the water temperature.”

“Relax, dad. I’ll be away and gone. No need to get snippy.”

“Good.”

Lucius closed the door with an authoritative bang. Draco stared at the spot had been standing for a few moments.

“Feisty,” he chuckled to himself, sitting down at his father’s desk and running his fingers over the leather armrest. This chair was different from the guest chairs in his office- it was massive and extremely new. The rest had been around a few decades, though they were in perfect and expensive condition.

Draco busied himself with little odd, snooping things at his dad’s desk. He opened a file cabinet and mulled through the manila folders, nearly bored to tears by the unexciting contents. Taxes, estate maps, letters from the Ministry. There was absolutely nothing in them that told of his father’s deadly side-’hobby’ of being a Death Eater.

The muggle phone at the desk rang, and a red button flashed on the body of the telephone. He glanced around the room for someone to answer it, but discovered there was no one to do it. Draco sighed- he *hated* anything muggle, but if that red light was flashing, that meant it was probably urgent and Lucius hated missing urgent calls.

“Malfoy,” Draco said in a bored tone.

“Draco?” It was Severus Snape. “Where’s Lucius?”

“Screwing the maid, or possibly recruiting some veela...oh, that’s right,” he said, in an artificial tone, “out for a swim. Can I take a message?”

Snape cursed.

“Can’t you get him?”

“’Fraid not. Said he wasn’t to be bothered. I’m sure if you leave me a message for him, he’ll get back to you.” Draco smiled when he heard Snape curse again. “Professor Snape?”

“Just tell him to get in touch with me as soon as possible.”

“Right-o. Have a pleasant day, Severus,” chirped before slamming the phone down. “Fag.” Draco pulled a face of disgust. “Better tell dad about the call. Snape said as *soon* as possible.” Draco swung the chair out from the desk and got out of it with his usual slinky grace.

He whistled an improvised tune as he walked along the corridors, strolling along to the inside swimming pool with absolutely no trace of regret. Screw Lucius. He could live with some company, recluse that he was.

Behind the door that opened to the indoor pool, he could hear the sounds of splashing, most likely caused by the laps he knew his father liked to swim. Lucius was a powerful swimmer, long and graceful, much like Draco himself. Draco waited until he heard the swimming resume after a short pause and opened the door without knocking.

“Surprise.”

“Out.” Lucius turned the other direction and swam back, not even casting a look back at his son.

“Snape called.”

“Out.” Lucius dove under water and surfaced ten feet away from where he had been floating.

“It’s urgent.”

“*Out*.”

“No. Snape called and it’s urgent.” Lucius arched an eyebrow, a gesture that reminded Draco of himself.

“And this I should care about because? Snape can manage his own affairs.”

“Didn’t sound like it,” Draco said, shaking his head in false pity. “Poor man sounded distraught.”

Lucius looked angry then, and he straightened in the water. Draco noted promptly that his father wasn’t wearing any swimming trunks.

“Daaad! *Wow*,” he said, his eyes widening in appreciation. Lucius sniggered.

“Not like you haven’t seen a cock before.” He was ever still composed. “Hand me that towel. I’m getting out.”

Draco’s fingers inched out to the glass table holding the towels and grabbed them up in one hand.

“And what if I don’t,” he teased.

“Then it’ll be the dungeons for you, boy. Accio tow-” he started to say, but the towels burned in Draco’s hand after he muttered a few words and were then dropped on the ground.

“Oopsies.”

“Damn it. Fine.” Lucius started wading out of the pool, and Draco gave a wolf-whistle. “Slut,” Draco though he heard his father mutter. No, he *heard* his father mutter.

“Spot on.” Draco darted quickly to the edge of the pool where Lucius was climbing out and gave him a swift push back into the water. Lucius flailed, unbalanced by the shove, and let out a yelp before he hit the water backwards. He surfaced quickly, expression livid, while his son crowed.

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Will I,” Draco said, laughing still.

“Imperious.” Draco’s knees buckled, and he fell, unaware, into the pool when his fathers’ voice demanded him to. “Stupid child,” Lucius cursed, slicking his hair back from his face when Draco surfaced and he took the curse off of him. “Don’t play games you can’t win.”

“Who says I won’t win,” Draco asked hotly. “You’re naked, I’m not. I have a lot more to aim for,” he mocked, darting away from his father before Lucius could make any sudden moves.

“I’m far too lenient with you, Draco Octavious.”

“I’m in real trouble now. Daddy used my middle name,” Draco sneered. “Woe is me, what will he do? Will it be whips? Will it be chains? Will he *starve* me? Hurt my feeeeelings?”

“No,” Lucius said quietly. “What is the only thing you take with some level of seriousness?”

“Erm, Quidditch, I suppose.”

“No. Sex.”

“Oh, goodie! Daddy’s letting Draco out to play!” Draco clapped his hands together in glee like a small child. “Can I have a blonde again? I only fuck blondes.”

“Stupid, arrogant slut.”

“Ouch. Dad. You’re getting a little riled here.”

Draco was prepared to utter another antagonizing sentence, but his father pounced on him. At first Draco feared Lucius was going to push him under the water and hold him until he felt he had paid his dues, but something entirely different happened.

“You only fuck blondes, you brainless squib?”

“I am *not* a squib-” Draco’s pallor rose into an angry blush.

“Enough,” Lucius growled, smacking his palm flat across Draco’s cheek. It stung like hell, and Draco raised a hand to his face to see if he was bleeding. He wasn’t, but nearly.

“Stop it, dad.”

Lucius said nothing, and it looked as if he was going to raise his hand to hit Draco again, but instead the arm coiled around Draco’s sopping middle and hoisted him over the edge of the pool. Pressed that close against his father’s body, Draco could just barely feel his dick against his leg.

Lucius lifted himself over the edge, shoving Draco over. Draco rolled onto his back and stared at his father’s contorted face, confused. What was going to happen?

He didn’t have time to think or react. Lucius’ mouth, his father’s fucking mouth, was harshly probing Draco’s open. Draco screamed a muffled protest, and slapped at his father’s naked back, but Lucius didn’t stop and only yanked Draco into a hold where he couldn’t move.

Lucius cursed and broke apart, but again, instead of stopping, merely moved forward. Draco started sobbing helplessly, moaning ‘father, please, father!’ as Lucius stripped him quickly and mercilessly of his clothes.

“Dad, no! What are you doing,” Draco managed to yell as his still dripping and naked father flung his boxers to the other side of the room.

“Teaching you a god damn lesson,” he hissed through bared teeth. Draco whimpered into his arm when he was flipped over, body parts being moved, poked and prodded roughly.

“Please, don’t,” he whispered. “Dad.”

Another growl came from Lucius throat, and when he bared down on him to flip him over again, Draco was appalled to see his dad was erect. And frighteningly huge.

“What are you going to do to me?”

No response. Not even a further growl. Instead, Lucius hand reached for Draco’s limp cock, lying against his inner thigh. Draco whimpered and tried to scuttle away, but another back hand was delivered.

“It’s time you stopped shaming the family name with all your fucking misconstrues, Draco Malfoy,” was all Draco was given as explanation.

And then Lucius started to jerk him, wildly, ruthlessly, until Draco was sobbing again. He was dry and completely flaccid, and his father wasn‘t stopping, no matter what Draco screamed.

“Please! Daddy! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” he squealed as his father slicked his own pre-come down his cock. “I’ll do...anything.”

“Silence,” Lucius voice boomed, and Draco was again flipped onto his stomach.

Draco knew what was coming, from having seen it first hand, and he knew how painful it was, especially the first time. Draco howled in pain as his father positioned his dripping cock at his anus, and the howl turned into a piercing scream of pain when Lucius started to push himself in.

“No! No! No!” Draco chanted, and writhed and screamed underneath his penetrating father, bawling and kicking, unaware flecks of spit and tears were hitting the pavement of the poolside floor.

“Shut up,” Lucius voice roared, more powerful than it have ever been heard by Draco before.

Draco tried to stop his yowling and sobbed onto the ground as his father fucked him brutally, pulling in and out for long, hard thrusts that made places he didn’t think he had rip and tear. Blood was pouring down the back of his thighs, mingling with sweat and a small amount of his fathers pre-come.

“Stop, daddy,” Draco whimpered one last time, as his father plunged even deeper than he had before and starting moaning hoarsely.

His father rocked down on his ass, come spurting out in streams as Draco quieted his sobbing. As soon as Lucius stopped coming, he pulled out of Draco and stood. Draco vaguely heard footsteps and a door closing, but he was curled on the ground in a little ball.

Draco Malfoy, at fifteen, gave up on love on a poolside cement floor.