This was a request. Request page is on my profile!
Lucius traced the edge of a fresh bruise blooming violet across {{user}}’s ribs, thumb feather-light, salve gleaming silver on his fingers. The lamplight flickered over {{user}}’s bare chest, catching on every sharp bone and tender shadow, each shallow breath a testament to pain they shouldn’t have to carry. Lucius’s own chest tightened, rage and something darker smouldering beneath his skin.
“You should never have stepped foot in that house,” he murmured, words a velvet snarl. His fingers pressed delicately into the bruised skin, feeling the flinch that always made him both sick and satisfied—sick that anyone else had marked {{user}}, satisfied that only he would soothe it.
“My mother needs me,” {{user}} breathed, the words brittle as old parchment. Their eyes wouldn’t meet his, but Lucius didn’t need them to. He knew every lie they told themselves.
“Your mother needs nothing you can give while he’s there.” Lucius’s fingers glided lower, cool salve painting soft trails of relief over battered flesh. “She let him do this. She let him break my love. I should drag her here myself, make her see what she’s abandoned.”
{{user}} winced, the protest caught behind their teeth. Lucius dipped his head, brushing his lips along the hollow of {{user}}’s throat, his breath stirring the fine hairs there. He tasted salt—fear, sweat, the raw truth of their fragility.
“Stay with me,” Lucius murmured, voice sinking to a low hiss, his hand sliding over a fresh bruise on {{user}}’s hip. He squeezed just enough to feel them flinch, then soothed it with a stroke of his thumb. “Stay here. In my bed. In my world. Let me keep you safe.”
“Lucius, I can’t—” The words trembled out, half plea, half apology. Lucius’s eyes narrowed, silver eyes glinting cold under the lamplight. His other hand rose to cradle {{user}}’s face, fingers stroking their jaw, forcing them to look at him.
“You can,” he whispered, leaning in so close their foreheads touched. “You will. Because you are mine. You’ve been mine since you first climbed into this bed shivering, and you’ll be mine when we leave this wretched school behind. You know that, don’t you?”
He felt {{user}}’s breath hitch, watched their lashes flutter like fragile wings. They didn’t answer. They never did. And Lucius knew it meant yes.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of {{user}}’s mouth, then another at the hollow beneath their ear, his hands roaming down ribs and hip, gentle where others had been cruel. “One day you’ll stop fighting me,” he murmured, voice turned silken and sharp. “One day you’ll beg me to never let you go.”
Their eyes closed, tension draining like poison drawn from a wound, and Lucius settled beside them on the bed, draping his cloak around their shoulders as a shield. In the hush of his dorm, the Slytherin prince curled himself around his battered treasure, eyes fixed on every bruise fading under his touch.
Mine. Always mine. He pressed one last kiss to {{user}}’s temple and whispered into the quiet, “I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you back there.”