F A N F I C T I O N > M I S C . F A N D O M S
Sweets From Mummy by Amberina
Draco associates sweets with his mother. No surprise, really, considering she sent them to Hogwarts for him everyday, but like most things in life, it wasn't quite what it seemed.
Chocolate melts on his tongue, much like his mother in the summer heat. Lucius is gone now, and it's just them, alone and together. There are things good sons do for their mummy's when their fathers can't.
Draco slides the chocolate into his mouth, swirls his tongue around the top of it, and sinks his teeth into it. The sweetsweetsweet filling coats his tongue, and it's nearly orgasmic as his senses are filled with the taste of candy, and the memory of mother.
Pale blonde hair tickling at his nose as he kisses down her body. Her skin tastes like honey, her nipples like sugar. It's so hot. He'd heard something about global-warming from the mudbloods in school, but he had never really given it much thought. Not until now, his mother, dissolving like an ice-lolly all over their expensive sheets.
Draco carefully pulls another chocolate out of the container. Must be gentle, can't break it before it's ready. Mother taught him that. Oh, his mother taught him lots of things.
First he must melt it in the heat of his mouth, make sure it's good and soft before piercing it. And it's worth it, the reward for those who are patient... it's worth it.
Mummy once told him that father was too rough. He hurt her in delicate places, though he certainly didn't mean to. Draco had sworn he would never do such things. He would never hurt his mummy, not like his father. Draco, despite what people might think, never wanted to be his father.
Even when he enters her, her warmness (so warm to him, she was always so warm) enveloping him, he doesn't want to be his father. No, he just wants to be Draco Malfoy, giving his mother what she needs -- and what's so wrong with that, he wonders?
He knows this is not normal, of course. He's not stupid. But he doesn't understand how it could possibly wrong. How anything so good, like the sweetest candy on the hottest day, could possibly be considered wrong.
Crabbe makes as if he's going to grab a piece of chocolate and Draco -- his reflexes rather quick when he wanted them to be -- has his wand pointed between his temples before he can remove the candy from the container.
"Don't fuck with my sweets," he says softly, his bottom lip curling up ever so slightly.
Crabbe backs away slowly and mutters a few words under his breath Draco doesn't quite catch. It doesn't really matter what he said though. Draco has his candy, and over the holiday he'll have his mummy, and that's all he needs.