I wrote this in the last hour. I have no idea where it came from. I'm very, very naughty.

Warning: Lucius is a voyeur. Smut. No slash or incest, don't worry my little babies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Probably because I prefer Muggle money. XD

…

Lucius Abraxus Malfoy had not looked at the only girl in the famous Golden Trio like she was a woman until the day of her wedding; walking up the aisle on her Muggle father's arms and wearing a more traditionally Muggle wedding dress as opposed to the Wizarding style her mother-in-law had insisted she at least consider.

She was beautiful, like a goddess incarnate. He was mindful enough not to drool like an idiot at those beautiful, bare shoulders, the long, tantalizing neck, and those temptuous lips, but it was a different story underneath his dressrobes.

His wife then squeezed his hand affectionately, stifling what he could only assume was a "happy" sob as she watched her grown up son recite his vows and kiss the woman he loved. Lucius tore his eyes away from his new daughter-in-law and examined his son. He had never had a happy life, even as a child, but the man now gazing at the new Mrs Malfoy was full of so much happiness, so much love, that Lucius was surprised he hadn't lit up like a Yule Tree with all the emotions on his face.

Holy matrimony.

For eternity.

And his son deserved it.

But...

Lucius couldn't help the tightening he felt when he imagined himself kissing the luscious lips his son had just lovingly caressed; not in front of hundreds of well wishers, but behind closed doors and with his hands exploring her body. She would be so hot, tight and delicious, he just knew it. That day still both excited and haunted him.

But now, six months later, he still sported a hard on when he thought about the rare moments he'd spotted Hermione Granger-Malfoy in anything shy of the standard, flowing Wizarding robes she wore for work. Why did Muggles have to wear such revealing clothes? After the wedding, the next time she'd given him a hard on had been when the couple returned from their honeymoon, flooing into the Manor without warning (where they all lived, though in entirely different wings of the mansion) and dressed only in shorts (hers were scandalously short) and sleeveless shirts. Both of them. Hermione's breasts were firmly outlined through the Muggle material, her newly tanned, long legs on show, and her no-longer-frizzy-teenage-hair once again a dishevelled mess.

She looked like she'd just been thoroughly shagged.

After that, Lucius had made a point of insisting any family dinners they actually had together were done in formal clothing. Not to be dissuaded, fate decided to give him another eye-full two months later when he and his Cissy had decided to go to a Wizarding beach one weekend without telling Draco and Hermione where they were going. Lucius had wanted to get away from the Manor for a while and Cissy was eager to try out this "bikini" her daughter-in-law had bought her. As was to be expected with his string of bad luck involving the Muggle-born witch, his son and his wife had had the same idea, at the same beach. So he was forced to endure two days of female frolicking and using a concealing spell to hide how much the entire incident had affected him.

Lastly, two days ago, Draco had given his parents prime tickets for his mother's favourite Opera as an Anniversary present for them. Tonight was the night they were supposed to go there. But Narcissa had fallen under the weather and it was Lucius's duty to tend to his wife. However, as he'd forgotten to inform his son of the change of plans, the youngest Malfoy currently had his head between Hermione's thighs, "going down on her" as Draco had told him it was referred to, as she pressed her back against the living room wall.

Lucius's hand absent-mindedly went to his crotch as the young witch orgasmed; Draco stood up and kissed her, sharing her taste and making his father hungry for more. Without further ado, her legs were hiked up and his son was slamming into her. He seemed impatient for someone who thought they were home alone. There were no moving portraits in this part of the house either.

Instead of walking away, all Lucius could do was gaze longingly at Hermione's thighs, remembering the wide view he'd gotten of her vagina a moment ago, before his son moved her legs to fuck her against the wall. He licked his lips, imagining what it would be like to taste the beads of sweat that trailed down her torso as she moved so sensually. Lucius watched her intently. Her breasts were perfect, everything he'd imagined them to be and more, bouncing with every thrust. And the small sounds of pleasure coming from her was the cherry on top.

Lucius continued to rub himself, refraining however, from unsheathing himself. He just wanted a little more...

"Draco!" A few minutes later, the temptress witch screamed and his son grunted, clearly pleased with himself. "Fuck!"

Her words were crude, the syllables drawn out and the sound of slapping skin echoed in the room. Draco pushed harder and faster, seeming to want to drive his wife insane with pleasure. Her rose-cheeks reflected her delirium and even Draco's own flushed, aroused presence didn't deter Lucius from continuing to watch them come undone together. It was an amazing sight.

But all too quickly he came down from his high. Draco was spent, moving his hips only to ground out the last of his erection. Their heavy breathing sounded so serene and loving; he wasn't sure how else to describe it. Hermione ran her hand along her husband's arm, her eyes closed, and her head back against the wall. Draco held her in place still, with one arm, while his other hand absent-mindedly stroked her breasts. After a moment, he leant forward to whisper something in her ear and a small smile played on her lips. A throaty chuckle escaped him when she giggled and wiggled her hips in response to his whispered prodding.

When they finally moved off the wall and laid down on the couch, looking eager to start again, Lucius looked down at himself, realising his hard on was evident even through his robes.

That was it. He'd finally reached his own limit. This was not proper of him. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not ogle their naked daughters-in-law nor enjoy the sight of their son shagging her senseless. Backing up quietly, he left the lovers alone and returned to his bedroom study; Narcissa was fast asleep and seemed to be doing fine, despite her ill feeling. Lucius rummaged through his desk impatiently, intent on owling the family psychiatrist. It was time to take the man up on the suggestion of trying Muggle related medicine to stifle his physical urges.

It was time to let these fantasies go.

-oOo-

I think my writing's improved. XD