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Title: Promise
Author: crazyparakiss
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Al/OMCS, AS/S
Summary: Al has a thing for blonds, and they have a way of breaking his heart. After a break up he always needs a cup of tea along with a friendly ear, and it helps to have a good looking blond to stare at.
Warnings: Sex, mentions of bestiality (but it isn't graphic and isn't Al or Scorp)
Word Count: 3,394
Author's Notes: I know it isn't the fic I promised you...that damn thing is about to hit the recycle bin...but I hope you like it anyway. :D Also I have no clue what this is about; it might just be my version of PWP. A little Flangst too.
Throbbing bass lines pound through his sternum and fill up his soul in a way that only club music can; it commands the body to commit vulgar acts of sex and lures them to the darkened corners of drugs all the while consuming every piece of soul. Al hates the scene as much as the club goers love the masses in the sweaty orgies. Making his way through the throng of gyrating bodies Al bats away more than a few grabby hands that try to get a feel of his bits. Their advances serve to irritate more than they arouse.
In the darker back room that marginally glows under the veil of a crimson light he hears the moans and slapping of multiple bodies. Finding an empty completion in a full room seems degrading and makes Al’s skin itch more with each set of momentary lovers he passes. Four groups of two or more passed and he comes upon a couple who catches his eye. At least one of the partners immediately grabs his attention.
“Mmmm yes.” The man, mostly obscured in the darkness, pants behind Al’s familiar bed partner. Someone he called lover only hours before. Blond and slim with simple yet radiant features, who knows all the way to please a man, Lorcan is a lover unlike any other. Watching, now as his thin lips part to release a pornographic moan, Al hates him. Just another cheap whorish man who doesn’t mind getting off in a room full of strangers.
From his pocket he pulls a small duffle, enlarging it with a simple flick of his wand; no need to worry about discovery in an area where people are far too interested in their genitals to care of the world surrounding them. Tossing the heavy bag against Lorcan’s foot causes his blown usually blue, but in the light an eerie red, eyes to snap open. They fall on Al and he looks frightened for only a fraction of a second before the canting of the nameless man’s hips snap behind him and bring Lorcan out of his momentary heartache. If Al had no soul he’d beat the bugger where he stands getting fucked by a stranger.
The shop is still open at midnight; catering to the hip young crowd that like to sit in tea and coffee houses at random hours of the night. He is grateful for the idiots that sit around in the comfy chairs talking of art as if they are creative while admiring the stereotypical pieces on the walls, but only because their money buys him this haven when he needs the comfort of a hot cuppa. A plain white saucer and short fat cup clink together as they are set before him by an abnormally white hand. Looking up his green eyes fall on the narrow sharp face of Scorpius Malfoy. A man he knows well now, after so many nights spent pouring out his soul to the silent waiter who smiles at him kindly; listening even when he is busy. Of all the people he rely on in this world after a hard break up, Albus would bet good money on Scorpius being the one he needs the most.
“Hard night?” The slim man asks, folding his long arms over his small carrying tray; holding it close to his body as he watches Al for signs of anything.
With a tired smile Albus replies, “Hard life more like.”
There is something in the way Scorpius smiles that tells Al the other man doesn’t believe Albus knows half of a truly hard life. “Well perhaps it will get better.” His voice is a soft ambiance that soothes the aches and frays of Al’s heart and nerves.
“By the time I am dead I hope.”
Scorpius snorts, “Al you are only twenty six; your life has only just begun. Believe me, it will get better.” A long haired boy in a chequered button up waves Scorpius over and with an apologetic smile Scorpius goes, off to do his job.
Watching the way long spindle thin fingers reach into Scorpius’ work apron to remove a pad and pen makes Al smile. He’s never understood why Scorpius Malfoy, richest unwed bloke in Wizarding society, would waste his time in a hip java shop. It is something that puzzles the tabloids as well, Skeeter is always making up some sort of sordid reasons for his odd business venture in The Interrogator. The most popular theory is disownment, but Al has seen Mr Malfoy here a handful of times visiting with his son in a warm manner. So that shot those rumours to death in his opinion. Anymore the rest of the world doesn’t care, even the newage idiots that flock to this maroon coloured cafe who are always in the business of the rich and famous. None of them bat an eye when they see Albus for the first time, nor do they bother him much; not as they had when he first started frequenting Cafe Couture. Skeeter’d had a fat sack of gold on her desk the day that article hit the streets of Diagon. Boy Who Lived Twice’s Son a Stereotypical Queer He still isn’t sure who that damned article offended more his mum, dad, or his easy going granddad. James bout had kittens, and Lily sing songed the entirety of rubbish at the next Sunday brunch. Al just shrugged. The old batty woman had to make money somehow, and she wasn’t quite pretty enough for modelling nor was she bright enough to make it in the real world. In his next interview, the following month’s issue of Witch Weekly discussing his signing with the Magpies, Al was sure to tell the interviewer exactly how much he pitied poor old Rita Skeeter. No more articles were written about him in her gossip column.
Now with a smirk on his face, watching Scorpius, problem with Lorcan pushed aside for the time being, and his last rendezvous with the infamous Ms Skeeter at the forefront of his mind Al drinks his still warm tea with a new sense of calm. Perhaps there are better days to come.
Trevor Hinckley is what Al always looks for in a partner. Tall, slender, gentle laugh, a bit of an easy mystery, and blond. Wonderfully blond. They meet, as most couples do, in a bar. A very trendy place called Horcrux (apparently the chef’s recipes are so brilliant he puts a piece of his soul inside) that Lily drags him to along with James and his fiancé Cheryl. The food is a bit too rich for Al’s taste but the wine is wonderful, a powerful dry bouquet that tastes of lust and he laps it up greedily. The waiter, Trevor, comments on his flushed face and the rest, is as they say, history.
It is a wonderful six and a half months. Swimmingly so until Trevor sits Al on his gaudy gold sofa to open up more of himself to Albus. They’d spoken of secret desires a week before, talking about how they could only share certain intimacies with people they see themselves with for the long haul. Al saw that “steady” factor in Trevor, and was willing to take the plunge. Told the man about his foot fetish (which drove Lorcan insane...apparently enough to go fuck another man not a week after Al told him), and expected something along the lines of hot wax on nipples. In other words, something doable, but what Trevor hands him is definitely not doable.
“I’m into animals.” He says, stone faced serious and oddly defiant.
There is a long silence in which Al feels his black brows move toward his hairline, “What?” He asks, just for clarification.
Clarification would be fine if it could remain in the form of words, but Trevor bumps it up a notch and pulls out pictures. Lots of them, showcasing himself and different dogs in compromising positions. Doing things that no man should do with man’s best friend.
He doesn’t remember apparating, but he is grateful he did when he walks in and Scorpius greets him with that beatific smile that can chase away any bad image.
“The usual?” Scorpius asks when he takes his common chair by the window.
“Yeah, bring me one awesome cure for a bad break up.” His head of unruly dark hair hits against the headrest covered in chocolate brown upholstery.
“You have the worst luck with men Al.” Scorpius chuckles as he jots something down on his pad, “I wonder if it is a hereditary trait.”
“What?” Al asks even though he is almost certain he knows the answer.
“Attracting trouble.” Scorpius winks. His smile says that he knows Al already knew Scorpius would give that answer; which causes Al to smile somewhat.
The crowd isn’t so thick tonight; all the Hogwarts students aren’t on holiday yet and the Uni brats are too busy studying up for winter exams to spend their nights spouting crap in a coffee house. It is a nice change of pace for Al.
When Scorpius returns he listens to Al groan on and on about Trevor. Mostly he confides that he wishes they could have stayed together.
“Why didn’t you?” Scorpius sits across from him, his long trainer covered feet curled beneath his bum while his cheek rests in the white palm of his slim hand.
Lifting his head so as to give Scorpius a more direct look Albus says, “Because he’s a bleeding pervert.”
One of the humoured snorts Scorpius is so fond of, “Who exactly isn’t a pervert? I bet even the Pope is turned on by things as simple as lacy knickers.” A pale arched brow wiggles at him suggestively causing Al to laugh despite himself.
“Yes well, lacy knickers I could handle...” With a very sober stare he says, “But when you bring animals into the mix that’s when I ask for the cheque and get the hell out.”
Scorpius’ wide grey eyes go even wider for a rather long period of time, then finally he blinks; slowly. “Animals?” He whispers in disgust.
“Yeah dogs; Shetlands mostly.” Al adds with a terrified shiver that isn’t all for show.
“Fucking hell, he is a pervert.” Scorpius says causing Al to laugh. “I mean I thought I was weird.”
That causes Al to curiously peer at his waiter, “Oh yeah?”
With a wry smile Scorpius speaks, “Yeah you know, biting, vibrators, handcuffs, lacy knickers, and the occasional arse spanking...that sort of stuff.” He shrugs then adds, “But animals is a bit of a stretch.”
“Yeah you are much to vanilla for that, and I don’t think your girlfriend would be pleased with you asking to let a dog lick her clit or something of the sort.” Al replies trying hard, and failing, to keep a straight face.
“Ew.” Scorpius wrinkles his slightly upturned nose, “If I had a girlfriend I imagine it would freak her out greatly, but as it is I know it would have disturbed my ex boyfriend.”
Al really should have seen it coming, but he isn’t one to stereotype. He just assumed that Scorpius was another of those new age metro-sexual yuppies who cock tease by dressing the part, but then become extremely offended when you try to pick them up. He is severely mistaken. “I thought you were straight.”
“I can’t even think straight Al.” Scorpius quips with the dry tone Al envies.
“Oh shut up.” Al groans with another barely contained laugh.
“So what about your weird kink, did he ever find out what it was?” Scorpius looks intrigued.
“Yeah I told him about it a day before I discovered my boyfriend is completely bonkers.” He throws his face in the wide palm of his hand, not intending to say more when Scorpius gives him an impatient look. Al still doesn’t budge for quite a few minutes; not until Scorpius throws out one of his lean legs between them and nudges Albus with his trainer covered foot.
“Out with it!” He laughs, “I told you mine.” Scorpius tries to pout but he is much to devious for Al to fall for the fake show of childishness.
“Vanilla,” Al says while inspecting his nails.
“Oh as if yours is whips, chains, domination games, or hot wax on nipples.” Scorpius’ eyes are still lovely even when they roll in the most juvenile way. They charm Al much too easily.
“Fine,” Al huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I like feet, love them really; worship more like.”
If it thoroughly disgusts Scorpius he doesn’t let that fact show. After a long moment he just says, “Really.” In a very neutral manner.
Swirling his tongue around the long smooth toe Al sucks the length of flesh into his mouth and scrapes his teeth along the top as well as the bottom while performing flicking motions with his tongue. His fingers dance up a slender lightly furred calf that looks shaved because of the near colourless hair covering it. A moan sounds from above him as his fingers splay across a bony hip, tickling the smooth flesh there.
“God I didn’t know that could feel so good.” Scorpius breathes out on a pant, his slim curved cock hard and leaking.
Pulling off of Scorpius’ big toe with a nearly silent pop Al grins, “Oh yes it can be quite stimulating, but,” eyeing the toys sprawled beside Scorpius on Scorpius’ off white duvet Al says, “your little objects look like they could be even more fun than my tongue.” He wishes he didn’t sound so shaky when he spoke; if Scorpius asks he will blame it on pent up desire instead of nervousness.
“I don’t know about that,” Scorpius says with a low moan while Al moves up his lean body with bites and lewd licks, “ Your tongue is pretty stimulating.”
“Flatterer.” Al bites at Scorpius’ small ear lobe, hard enough to induce pain without breaking skin. It makes Scorpius keen in a way that shoots desire from the tip of Al’s hard prick to a deep spot in his gut.
Their conversation ends when Scorpius leans up, pressing as much of himself as he can against Al, and invades the cavern of Al’s mouth with demanding motions of his tongue. The rumble of Al’s groan can be felt between them and it prompts both of them to move more vigorously. Al’s hands rough from work worship every inch of creamy smooth skin that they can find. Scorpius’ cold fingertips ghost along the blazing hot skin of Al’s back and shoulders, learning the ridges Al’s firm muscles create. Al shivers from the sensation and fists a hand in Scorpius’ hair when he feels teeth bite into the muscle around his left nipple. When the teeth retract themselves the warm tip of Scorpius’ tongue laves at the spot lovingly.
A white hand scrambles for the toys to Al’s right and wraps around a frightening purple number that Scorpius flicks a button on. When it starts vibrating Scorpius shoves it at Al and husks, “Make me wet.”
Al nearly comes undone.
In and out he watches at the rubbery material disappears within the pale pink ring of muscle; Al kisses at the firm mound of bum, tickling the skin as Scorpius bucks back against the vibrator on all fours. His white body gleams with sweat, and the muscles are drawn tight from the strain of being overly stimulated. Al is in awe at the virtual silence of the room. It’s been a long time since he’s had a lover that isn’t vocal. Lorcan screamed profanities and Trevor always said worshipful lines that made Al feel like he was in Mass rather than in bed, but Scorpius is beautifully silent. His only “words” gentle moans and needy groans that fill the room. Al merely sighs in need and groans occasionally when Scorpius twists his body just so or whines in that wanting manner.
Al moves to fondle Scorpius’ sac; using his fingers first for a short measure then lies on his back between the spread thighs so that he can work the area with his mouth. While he licks, slurps, and gently pulls with his lips Al never stops his slow torturous thrusting with the vibrating dildo. Another high-pitched sound escapes Scorpius’ throat and Al can somewhat see him throw his head back when Al’s mouth closes over the head of Scorpius’ leaking cock.
He allows Scorpius to fuck his mouth; relaxes his throat and continues the shallow thrusts with his aching arm as Scorpius finds his pleasure. Short gasps of breath and stained whines come from somewhere above him, but Al can only see the smooth skin of a white stomach that has a light patch of fur from the navel downward. Ten minutes, maybe more, pass before Al feels Scorpius’ leg tense beneath one of his palms and warm fluid fills his mouth. He almost chokes, but is proud when he swallows all of the bitter thick cream. Scorpius would fall boneless if not for Al keeping him upright; the sight of him panting and red makes Al smile as he moves out from beneath him. Lifting gently, and rolling over gently so that he is covering the bottom portion of his new lover’s delectable body.
“Damn.” Scorpius says at length. Casting an appreciative glance Al’s way as he falls against one of the feather filled pillows on his lush bed.
“I’m not even finished.” Al says with a cocked brow and a smirk.
“Promise?” Scorpius asks on a moan.
For weeks Al remembers the hours they spent in Scorpius bed. He can feel the tight ring that clung to him hungrily as he fucked Scorpius at a brutal pace. Scorpius who gripped the thick dark headboard and gave as good as he got, bucking back against Al on every forward thrust Al threw.
In the practice showers he tries to rub one off, tries to make it worthwhile, but his hand only serves to frustrate him more than he’d like to admit.
In his distraction he lets more goals in than he’d like to have and Chapman orders him to run fifty laps; in the bleeding cold. When he reaches twenty and his lungs burn from the cold he damns Scorpius. However, the damnation backfires on him because it only causes him to remember the scorch of Scorpius’ damp skin. “Fucking Hell!” He shouts, running as fast as he can from the unbidden images.
There is a handsome strawberry blond bloke waiting for him when he exits the showers. Al doesn’t give him the courtesy of learning his name; just grabs him by the arm and leads him back to the showers.
It is wrong; he knows that as soon as they start rutting like horny adolescent boys. The mouth is sloppy. It tastes of stale ale and the bulky muscles look weird. Everything about this boy makes him long for Scorpius’ bed, limbs, tongue, and gentle gasps. Without so much as a goodbye Al shoves away from the young man and cracks out of the steam filled room.
He is still damp, he can still taste the other man on his mouth, but he doesn’t care when he sees Scorpius. All Al can do is stalk towards him, grab him by the wrist, and spin him closer before crushing their mouths together.
“Who is the idiot that said it was too soon?” Al asks with hard lust ridden eyes.
Scorpius smirks at him, their eye levels even, and says, “That’d be you; Albus Potter the great twit.”
“Then this is okay?” He sounds desperate, even in his own ears.
Scorpius winds his hands in the longish curls that are still wet on Al’s nape. “No not yet,” at the almost hurt look on Al’s face he quickly adds, “First I have to rid you of the smell of another man.” He mouths against the stubble on Al’s jaw, “I am going to make you forget the flavour of anyone else; wrap you up in everything that is me and when you try to find another you will discover that the only taste you crave is me.” His tongue tickles behind Al’s ear, and he shivers.
“Promise?” Scorpius smiles in response before leading him toward the bedroom.
Author: crazyparakiss
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Al/OMCS, AS/S
Summary: Al has a thing for blonds, and they have a way of breaking his heart. After a break up he always needs a cup of tea along with a friendly ear, and it helps to have a good looking blond to stare at.
Warnings: Sex, mentions of bestiality (but it isn't graphic and isn't Al or Scorp)
Word Count: 3,394
Author's Notes: I know it isn't the fic I promised you...that damn thing is about to hit the recycle bin...but I hope you like it anyway. :D Also I have no clue what this is about; it might just be my version of PWP. A little Flangst too.
Throbbing bass lines pound through his sternum and fill up his soul in a way that only club music can; it commands the body to commit vulgar acts of sex and lures them to the darkened corners of drugs all the while consuming every piece of soul. Al hates the scene as much as the club goers love the masses in the sweaty orgies. Making his way through the throng of gyrating bodies Al bats away more than a few grabby hands that try to get a feel of his bits. Their advances serve to irritate more than they arouse.
In the darker back room that marginally glows under the veil of a crimson light he hears the moans and slapping of multiple bodies. Finding an empty completion in a full room seems degrading and makes Al’s skin itch more with each set of momentary lovers he passes. Four groups of two or more passed and he comes upon a couple who catches his eye. At least one of the partners immediately grabs his attention.
“Mmmm yes.” The man, mostly obscured in the darkness, pants behind Al’s familiar bed partner. Someone he called lover only hours before. Blond and slim with simple yet radiant features, who knows all the way to please a man, Lorcan is a lover unlike any other. Watching, now as his thin lips part to release a pornographic moan, Al hates him. Just another cheap whorish man who doesn’t mind getting off in a room full of strangers.
From his pocket he pulls a small duffle, enlarging it with a simple flick of his wand; no need to worry about discovery in an area where people are far too interested in their genitals to care of the world surrounding them. Tossing the heavy bag against Lorcan’s foot causes his blown usually blue, but in the light an eerie red, eyes to snap open. They fall on Al and he looks frightened for only a fraction of a second before the canting of the nameless man’s hips snap behind him and bring Lorcan out of his momentary heartache. If Al had no soul he’d beat the bugger where he stands getting fucked by a stranger.
The shop is still open at midnight; catering to the hip young crowd that like to sit in tea and coffee houses at random hours of the night. He is grateful for the idiots that sit around in the comfy chairs talking of art as if they are creative while admiring the stereotypical pieces on the walls, but only because their money buys him this haven when he needs the comfort of a hot cuppa. A plain white saucer and short fat cup clink together as they are set before him by an abnormally white hand. Looking up his green eyes fall on the narrow sharp face of Scorpius Malfoy. A man he knows well now, after so many nights spent pouring out his soul to the silent waiter who smiles at him kindly; listening even when he is busy. Of all the people he rely on in this world after a hard break up, Albus would bet good money on Scorpius being the one he needs the most.
“Hard night?” The slim man asks, folding his long arms over his small carrying tray; holding it close to his body as he watches Al for signs of anything.
With a tired smile Albus replies, “Hard life more like.”
There is something in the way Scorpius smiles that tells Al the other man doesn’t believe Albus knows half of a truly hard life. “Well perhaps it will get better.” His voice is a soft ambiance that soothes the aches and frays of Al’s heart and nerves.
“By the time I am dead I hope.”
Scorpius snorts, “Al you are only twenty six; your life has only just begun. Believe me, it will get better.” A long haired boy in a chequered button up waves Scorpius over and with an apologetic smile Scorpius goes, off to do his job.
Watching the way long spindle thin fingers reach into Scorpius’ work apron to remove a pad and pen makes Al smile. He’s never understood why Scorpius Malfoy, richest unwed bloke in Wizarding society, would waste his time in a hip java shop. It is something that puzzles the tabloids as well, Skeeter is always making up some sort of sordid reasons for his odd business venture in The Interrogator. The most popular theory is disownment, but Al has seen Mr Malfoy here a handful of times visiting with his son in a warm manner. So that shot those rumours to death in his opinion. Anymore the rest of the world doesn’t care, even the newage idiots that flock to this maroon coloured cafe who are always in the business of the rich and famous. None of them bat an eye when they see Albus for the first time, nor do they bother him much; not as they had when he first started frequenting Cafe Couture. Skeeter’d had a fat sack of gold on her desk the day that article hit the streets of Diagon. Boy Who Lived Twice’s Son a Stereotypical Queer He still isn’t sure who that damned article offended more his mum, dad, or his easy going granddad. James bout had kittens, and Lily sing songed the entirety of rubbish at the next Sunday brunch. Al just shrugged. The old batty woman had to make money somehow, and she wasn’t quite pretty enough for modelling nor was she bright enough to make it in the real world. In his next interview, the following month’s issue of Witch Weekly discussing his signing with the Magpies, Al was sure to tell the interviewer exactly how much he pitied poor old Rita Skeeter. No more articles were written about him in her gossip column.
Now with a smirk on his face, watching Scorpius, problem with Lorcan pushed aside for the time being, and his last rendezvous with the infamous Ms Skeeter at the forefront of his mind Al drinks his still warm tea with a new sense of calm. Perhaps there are better days to come.
Trevor Hinckley is what Al always looks for in a partner. Tall, slender, gentle laugh, a bit of an easy mystery, and blond. Wonderfully blond. They meet, as most couples do, in a bar. A very trendy place called Horcrux (apparently the chef’s recipes are so brilliant he puts a piece of his soul inside) that Lily drags him to along with James and his fiancé Cheryl. The food is a bit too rich for Al’s taste but the wine is wonderful, a powerful dry bouquet that tastes of lust and he laps it up greedily. The waiter, Trevor, comments on his flushed face and the rest, is as they say, history.
It is a wonderful six and a half months. Swimmingly so until Trevor sits Al on his gaudy gold sofa to open up more of himself to Albus. They’d spoken of secret desires a week before, talking about how they could only share certain intimacies with people they see themselves with for the long haul. Al saw that “steady” factor in Trevor, and was willing to take the plunge. Told the man about his foot fetish (which drove Lorcan insane...apparently enough to go fuck another man not a week after Al told him), and expected something along the lines of hot wax on nipples. In other words, something doable, but what Trevor hands him is definitely not doable.
“I’m into animals.” He says, stone faced serious and oddly defiant.
There is a long silence in which Al feels his black brows move toward his hairline, “What?” He asks, just for clarification.
Clarification would be fine if it could remain in the form of words, but Trevor bumps it up a notch and pulls out pictures. Lots of them, showcasing himself and different dogs in compromising positions. Doing things that no man should do with man’s best friend.
He doesn’t remember apparating, but he is grateful he did when he walks in and Scorpius greets him with that beatific smile that can chase away any bad image.
“The usual?” Scorpius asks when he takes his common chair by the window.
“Yeah, bring me one awesome cure for a bad break up.” His head of unruly dark hair hits against the headrest covered in chocolate brown upholstery.
“You have the worst luck with men Al.” Scorpius chuckles as he jots something down on his pad, “I wonder if it is a hereditary trait.”
“What?” Al asks even though he is almost certain he knows the answer.
“Attracting trouble.” Scorpius winks. His smile says that he knows Al already knew Scorpius would give that answer; which causes Al to smile somewhat.
The crowd isn’t so thick tonight; all the Hogwarts students aren’t on holiday yet and the Uni brats are too busy studying up for winter exams to spend their nights spouting crap in a coffee house. It is a nice change of pace for Al.
When Scorpius returns he listens to Al groan on and on about Trevor. Mostly he confides that he wishes they could have stayed together.
“Why didn’t you?” Scorpius sits across from him, his long trainer covered feet curled beneath his bum while his cheek rests in the white palm of his slim hand.
Lifting his head so as to give Scorpius a more direct look Albus says, “Because he’s a bleeding pervert.”
One of the humoured snorts Scorpius is so fond of, “Who exactly isn’t a pervert? I bet even the Pope is turned on by things as simple as lacy knickers.” A pale arched brow wiggles at him suggestively causing Al to laugh despite himself.
“Yes well, lacy knickers I could handle...” With a very sober stare he says, “But when you bring animals into the mix that’s when I ask for the cheque and get the hell out.”
Scorpius’ wide grey eyes go even wider for a rather long period of time, then finally he blinks; slowly. “Animals?” He whispers in disgust.
“Yeah dogs; Shetlands mostly.” Al adds with a terrified shiver that isn’t all for show.
“Fucking hell, he is a pervert.” Scorpius says causing Al to laugh. “I mean I thought I was weird.”
That causes Al to curiously peer at his waiter, “Oh yeah?”
With a wry smile Scorpius speaks, “Yeah you know, biting, vibrators, handcuffs, lacy knickers, and the occasional arse spanking...that sort of stuff.” He shrugs then adds, “But animals is a bit of a stretch.”
“Yeah you are much to vanilla for that, and I don’t think your girlfriend would be pleased with you asking to let a dog lick her clit or something of the sort.” Al replies trying hard, and failing, to keep a straight face.
“Ew.” Scorpius wrinkles his slightly upturned nose, “If I had a girlfriend I imagine it would freak her out greatly, but as it is I know it would have disturbed my ex boyfriend.”
Al really should have seen it coming, but he isn’t one to stereotype. He just assumed that Scorpius was another of those new age metro-sexual yuppies who cock tease by dressing the part, but then become extremely offended when you try to pick them up. He is severely mistaken. “I thought you were straight.”
“I can’t even think straight Al.” Scorpius quips with the dry tone Al envies.
“Oh shut up.” Al groans with another barely contained laugh.
“So what about your weird kink, did he ever find out what it was?” Scorpius looks intrigued.
“Yeah I told him about it a day before I discovered my boyfriend is completely bonkers.” He throws his face in the wide palm of his hand, not intending to say more when Scorpius gives him an impatient look. Al still doesn’t budge for quite a few minutes; not until Scorpius throws out one of his lean legs between them and nudges Albus with his trainer covered foot.
“Out with it!” He laughs, “I told you mine.” Scorpius tries to pout but he is much to devious for Al to fall for the fake show of childishness.
“Vanilla,” Al says while inspecting his nails.
“Oh as if yours is whips, chains, domination games, or hot wax on nipples.” Scorpius’ eyes are still lovely even when they roll in the most juvenile way. They charm Al much too easily.
“Fine,” Al huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I like feet, love them really; worship more like.”
If it thoroughly disgusts Scorpius he doesn’t let that fact show. After a long moment he just says, “Really.” In a very neutral manner.
Swirling his tongue around the long smooth toe Al sucks the length of flesh into his mouth and scrapes his teeth along the top as well as the bottom while performing flicking motions with his tongue. His fingers dance up a slender lightly furred calf that looks shaved because of the near colourless hair covering it. A moan sounds from above him as his fingers splay across a bony hip, tickling the smooth flesh there.
“God I didn’t know that could feel so good.” Scorpius breathes out on a pant, his slim curved cock hard and leaking.
Pulling off of Scorpius’ big toe with a nearly silent pop Al grins, “Oh yes it can be quite stimulating, but,” eyeing the toys sprawled beside Scorpius on Scorpius’ off white duvet Al says, “your little objects look like they could be even more fun than my tongue.” He wishes he didn’t sound so shaky when he spoke; if Scorpius asks he will blame it on pent up desire instead of nervousness.
“I don’t know about that,” Scorpius says with a low moan while Al moves up his lean body with bites and lewd licks, “ Your tongue is pretty stimulating.”
“Flatterer.” Al bites at Scorpius’ small ear lobe, hard enough to induce pain without breaking skin. It makes Scorpius keen in a way that shoots desire from the tip of Al’s hard prick to a deep spot in his gut.
Their conversation ends when Scorpius leans up, pressing as much of himself as he can against Al, and invades the cavern of Al’s mouth with demanding motions of his tongue. The rumble of Al’s groan can be felt between them and it prompts both of them to move more vigorously. Al’s hands rough from work worship every inch of creamy smooth skin that they can find. Scorpius’ cold fingertips ghost along the blazing hot skin of Al’s back and shoulders, learning the ridges Al’s firm muscles create. Al shivers from the sensation and fists a hand in Scorpius’ hair when he feels teeth bite into the muscle around his left nipple. When the teeth retract themselves the warm tip of Scorpius’ tongue laves at the spot lovingly.
A white hand scrambles for the toys to Al’s right and wraps around a frightening purple number that Scorpius flicks a button on. When it starts vibrating Scorpius shoves it at Al and husks, “Make me wet.”
Al nearly comes undone.
In and out he watches at the rubbery material disappears within the pale pink ring of muscle; Al kisses at the firm mound of bum, tickling the skin as Scorpius bucks back against the vibrator on all fours. His white body gleams with sweat, and the muscles are drawn tight from the strain of being overly stimulated. Al is in awe at the virtual silence of the room. It’s been a long time since he’s had a lover that isn’t vocal. Lorcan screamed profanities and Trevor always said worshipful lines that made Al feel like he was in Mass rather than in bed, but Scorpius is beautifully silent. His only “words” gentle moans and needy groans that fill the room. Al merely sighs in need and groans occasionally when Scorpius twists his body just so or whines in that wanting manner.
Al moves to fondle Scorpius’ sac; using his fingers first for a short measure then lies on his back between the spread thighs so that he can work the area with his mouth. While he licks, slurps, and gently pulls with his lips Al never stops his slow torturous thrusting with the vibrating dildo. Another high-pitched sound escapes Scorpius’ throat and Al can somewhat see him throw his head back when Al’s mouth closes over the head of Scorpius’ leaking cock.
He allows Scorpius to fuck his mouth; relaxes his throat and continues the shallow thrusts with his aching arm as Scorpius finds his pleasure. Short gasps of breath and stained whines come from somewhere above him, but Al can only see the smooth skin of a white stomach that has a light patch of fur from the navel downward. Ten minutes, maybe more, pass before Al feels Scorpius’ leg tense beneath one of his palms and warm fluid fills his mouth. He almost chokes, but is proud when he swallows all of the bitter thick cream. Scorpius would fall boneless if not for Al keeping him upright; the sight of him panting and red makes Al smile as he moves out from beneath him. Lifting gently, and rolling over gently so that he is covering the bottom portion of his new lover’s delectable body.
“Damn.” Scorpius says at length. Casting an appreciative glance Al’s way as he falls against one of the feather filled pillows on his lush bed.
“I’m not even finished.” Al says with a cocked brow and a smirk.
“Promise?” Scorpius asks on a moan.
For weeks Al remembers the hours they spent in Scorpius bed. He can feel the tight ring that clung to him hungrily as he fucked Scorpius at a brutal pace. Scorpius who gripped the thick dark headboard and gave as good as he got, bucking back against Al on every forward thrust Al threw.
In the practice showers he tries to rub one off, tries to make it worthwhile, but his hand only serves to frustrate him more than he’d like to admit.
In his distraction he lets more goals in than he’d like to have and Chapman orders him to run fifty laps; in the bleeding cold. When he reaches twenty and his lungs burn from the cold he damns Scorpius. However, the damnation backfires on him because it only causes him to remember the scorch of Scorpius’ damp skin. “Fucking Hell!” He shouts, running as fast as he can from the unbidden images.
There is a handsome strawberry blond bloke waiting for him when he exits the showers. Al doesn’t give him the courtesy of learning his name; just grabs him by the arm and leads him back to the showers.
It is wrong; he knows that as soon as they start rutting like horny adolescent boys. The mouth is sloppy. It tastes of stale ale and the bulky muscles look weird. Everything about this boy makes him long for Scorpius’ bed, limbs, tongue, and gentle gasps. Without so much as a goodbye Al shoves away from the young man and cracks out of the steam filled room.
He is still damp, he can still taste the other man on his mouth, but he doesn’t care when he sees Scorpius. All Al can do is stalk towards him, grab him by the wrist, and spin him closer before crushing their mouths together.
“Who is the idiot that said it was too soon?” Al asks with hard lust ridden eyes.
Scorpius smirks at him, their eye levels even, and says, “That’d be you; Albus Potter the great twit.”
“Then this is okay?” He sounds desperate, even in his own ears.
Scorpius winds his hands in the longish curls that are still wet on Al’s nape. “No not yet,” at the almost hurt look on Al’s face he quickly adds, “First I have to rid you of the smell of another man.” He mouths against the stubble on Al’s jaw, “I am going to make you forget the flavour of anyone else; wrap you up in everything that is me and when you try to find another you will discover that the only taste you crave is me.” His tongue tickles behind Al’s ear, and he shivers.
“Promise?” Scorpius smiles in response before leading him toward the bedroom.
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Date: 2011-01-02 05:16 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-01-02 10:24 pm (UTC)From:Yeah Trevor and his fetish EWWWW!
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Date: 2011-01-02 10:51 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 04:25 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-08-26 08:18 pm (UTC)From: