Everything smelled like spruce and pine – and that odd mulled wine Uncle Ron had brought over – even though Albus had cast spells and charms in the bedroom, and on the door, before he got into bed. There was an overwhelming scent of Christmas in the air. Christmas, and something sharp and woody – something that had nothing to do with the holiday decorations or the tree in the sitting room.
Once he had noticed it, he couldn't escape it. Albus buried his face into his pillow and sighed. When it became too warm, he resurfaced. He punched the pillow into a lumpy ball and wound his arms around the shape, lying on his stomach and placing his chin on top of it.
The wooden headboard loomed over him and he looked at it. In small scratched lines, a few inches to his left, he saw the old Jamie & Al that they'd carved there when he was thirteen. It felt like an age ago.
By the time he was in fifth year, he'd known he was in trouble. At fourteen, when he considered joining the Soggy Biscuit game some of his older house mates played, he knew something was different. He googled it during the holidays that year, two days before going back to school.
There wasn't much about them, really. He wasn't gay, he reckoned, because the search hits for naked birds was more appealing than the blokes, but the idea of something with a boy didn't terrify him. Maybe he wasn't as freaked out as some would be, because of Teddy. Because Al had grown up learning it was normal – but it was still bloody weird, wasn't it? He wasn't supposed to fancy blokes.
Next term was rather eye opening, though, and by the time he was fifteen he'd wanked to idea of boys more than anything else. It was simply more exciting when it was a little... different. Not wrong, because it wasn't, but... Well, most of the students from his year were going out with people of the opposite sex. The girls were sweet and all, a few were even rather hot, but none of them made Albus quite as hard as that fit Ravenclaw bloke.
Even Scorpius was fit. His arse wasn't bad, to start with, and sometimes Albus couldn't stop glancing at him when he had his shirt off. He was surprisingly gorgeous for a skinny, pale bloke.
Usually Albus preferred them darker; a little tanned and messy-haired, like his brown-eyed Ravenclaw Chaser.
Albus tilted his head down and pressed his face into the pillow once more.
When he was fifteen and hard all the bleeding time, sometimes for no reason other than his body messing with him, and had only just started tossing off to the idea of boys he didn't really look for an explanation. It seemed reasonable to spring a boner when a fit person wandered around your room, wearing nothing but a towel, chest and back still glistening with water droplets.
And, okay, when it kept happening later on as well – it wasn't his brain reacting, just his body.
If anything, Albus was probably subconsciously thinking of Mr Fit Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, right?
Groaning into the pillow, Albus screwed his eyes shut and tried to ignore whatever was stirring inside of him. It was fine, being attracted to somebody. Some body. That's all it was. His brother was a bloke, and he looked good, and he reminded Albus of a fit Quidditch player he had a crush on. That's all.
Only, Albus was seventeen now, and, although he still wasn't gay, he was much more into boys than girls. McFarlow had graduated over a year ago, and Albus hadn't seen him since. In fact, he hadn't even thought about him much. And, after Christmas hols, Albus only had a few months left at Hogwarts, then he'd be home, sharing a house again... with—
Albus swallowed thickly. After lifting his head to breathe, he dove back down and groaned, with feeling, into his pillow again.
With some effort he forced himself to roll over – although he did so with a dramatic sigh – and turn out the wand light where it was glowing with a faint Lumos on his bedside table. After accidentally making eye contact with the glowing tip, the darkness of the room seemed even more pressing, his eyes taking their time to adjust.
He stayed on his back, looking up at the ceiling and willing it into existence. As the next minute ticked by, he could gradually make out silhouettes and shadows creating odd shapes in the room, while his eyes became used to the dark. The ancient wardrobe in the corner stood out, seeing as it was the biggest thing in the room.
In the dark, eyes lingering on the furniture, he couldn't help but notice the sharp smell again. The one that reminded him of trees, dirt, leather and oranges. Every breath he took, he could feel it. It was in the air, in this room, stuck on the sheets and discarded clothes – the sharp and fresh scent of James’ favourite cologne. Albus closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The deep inhale only made it worse. The crawling feeling inside of him returned, restless and warm, flashing absurd ideas through his mind.
He could tip-toe out of bed, and steal one of Jamie's pillows. James had four in his bed – which had always seemed excessive to Al – and Albus wasn't big on scented products. James probably wouldn't notice if Albus swapped one of his own with one of James', but – breathing in his scent straight from the bed linen...
The thought alone had Albus' cock stirring with interest.
He reached for his second, and last, pillow and pressed it over his face, moaning unhappily. This wasn't working.
Promptly pushing all such thoughts aside, Albus ripped the pillow off his head and turned over. He slid the blankets up higher with another sigh, snuggling into his bed and curling up a little.
Searching his brain, he thought of the most boring and tedious potion he could remember, and started listing the ingredients and instructions in his head. After about a minute he was sufficiently distracted, immensely bored, and when he finally stopped listing procedures, his mind was thankfully much quieter. This time, when he blinked in the dim light and took notice of the scent in the room, it had a calming effect. He let his mind drift, thinking the most abstract thoughts, until he finally started feeling himself grow sleepy.
He jerked awake, not sure what had woken him up, or if he'd even really fallen asleep just then, and felt a heavy weight on top of him. He threw his arms out best he could and gave the thing a kick, only then realising that what woke him up had probably been whatever this thing—
“James?” Albus grunted under the weight and slapped at the lump that was apparently his plonker of a brother. “Get off me.”
“Mm, I'll gerroff in a minth or so, stop kick'n so much, woulda?”
Albus paused momentarily, then proceeded to pull his crushed arm free so he could elbow James. “Are you drunk?”
Albus scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Fine, issa sleepin' potion.”
“That's one stinky potion, in that case, because you reek.”
“Shhh, Al.” James wriggled on top of him and moved clumsily to the side, leaning his weight on an elbow placed on Albus' thigh.
Groaning, Albus shoved him off. “For fuck's sake, Jamie, ow.” He scooted back and twisted so he was on his side. James was next to him, mostly on his back, his eyes closed. He turned onto his side as well, facing Albus.
“S'alright, 'm sorry.” James slapped his hand softly across Albus' face, caressing his cheek. He scooted his bum back, away from Albus, but snuggled in on top of the blankets and only managed to push his front towards him in the process. His hand slid down to Albus' neck, his wrist warm against Albus' skin. It went limp.
“Go to bed,” Albus hissed, his heartbeat speeding up. “Your own bed. Fuck off.”
“Uhn-huh...” James responded sleepily. His fingers twitched, and he started rubbing them into Al's nape. They stopped a moment later, and James' breath puffed out evenly over Albus' face.
“James?” Albus whispered tensely. The bed was warm, and soft, and he'd been asleep – he was sure of it now – and despite... or maybe because of...? He took a quiet, steadying breath. He could probably fall back asleep now if he actually tried.
But that would be weird.
James' wrist was strangely heavy against Albus' throat, and his fingers twitched again. Albus reached out to nudge his shoulder, to wake him up, and his fingers touched cool skin, his brain buzzing into life.
He glanced down, and, oh, yep, Jamie was shirtless, in his bed. Albus tried to swallow his emotions, illogically hoping to Vanish them by doing so, but his face heated anyway and his cock stirred again. Merlin, his face felt so warm it was tingling.
It was dark, though, so there was no way Jamie could notice it. Waking him up and dumping him on his own bed was the sensible option. Fuck, it was the only option.
“Jamie, wake up.” Albus grabbed his shoulder gently and gave a push, and to his embarrassment James groaned softly. Al's prick twitched. “Bloody hell, would you wake the fuck up?”
James tightened his hand around Albus' neck and curled in on himself, bringing his face right near Albus' own. “Mm, restin' m' eyes s'all...”
“You're in the wrong bed,” Albus tried, but James only hummed vaguely in response. “Seriously, I want to go back to sleep. Get out or I'll hex you stupid.”
“Get out of my bed.”
“Mhm, scary hexes, got it...” James yawned and stretched, nudging his nose up against Al's cheek and sliding his hand up on the pillow behind Al's head, his forearm resting against Al's throat now. He blinked his eyes open, meeting Albus' own. “Al? Why are you in my bed?” He frowned.
Albus was nearly half hard already. As James eased back a few inches, his arm sliding against Albus' throat as he pulled it back, Al's cock filled more.
“You're not.” Albus tried to control his breathing, all too aware of it speeding up along with his pulse.
“Huh?” The pads of James' fingers trailed across his Adam's apple and finally disappeared.
“Um.” Albus stared at James' sleep-confused face and his dark hair that was spread over the pillow Albus had pushed aside earlier. “I meant, I'm not. You're in mine.”
Jamie's eyes widened, and for a moment they only stared at each other. “Why am I in your bed?” he whispered. He licked his lips and Albus' eyes were instantly drawn to them.
“I don't know,” Albus replied distractedly, failing to look away. Remembering, he added, “You stumbled in, drunk.” He tore his hand away from Jamie's shoulder. “Can you go now?”
But James was reaching out to touch Al's hair. “What's this?”
Albus tensed. “What?” He bent his knees a little, making a barrier between the two of them just in case. James smirked at him, seeming far more awake now.
“You've got glitter in your hair, baby brother.”
Albus' throat clenched, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and his face still prickling. He bit down, his jaw tight, and shoved James – hard. “Fuck off.” He huffed out a frustrated breath and turned around, rolling away from James, biting back his harsh don't call me that.
James' fingers curled around his arm and pulled, tipping him over to his back. Albus closed his eyes, berating himself for going so easily, terrifyingly aware that his slight erection hadn't gone down. He was definitely half-hard, if not more. He opened his eyes slowly and locked gaze with James, who was leaning over him now. Deciding that the blankets were enough to hide his reaction so far, Albus tried to relax.
“God, you're always so grumpy when you're tired.” James rubbed his eyes, sighed, and fell back onto his side. “Fine, I'm sorry for laughing.” Albus turned his head to look at him, counting to three inside his head.
“Fine,” Albus repeated, still trying to keep his breathing in check. “I forgive you. Go back to your own bed now?” Gulping down a breath of air, Albus blinked and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. James had closed his eyes again, and he hummed sleepily as he stretched.
“I'm actually pretty comfy here, thank you.” And with that, his arm was back – his fingertips and nails running back and forth over Al's neck. “Let's go to sleep, hmm?”
Albus tensed but focused on forcing his limbs to relax. He concentrated on keeping his breathing in check, and he managed to keep it slow, if a bit deep. His heart was still doing something it shouldn't, but when he closed his eyes things seemed muted somehow. James was moving his fingers slowly against his hair now, gently brushing it back and forth at the back of his neck. Everything was smooth and warm, and smelled of James. The downside to it all (at least, Albus thought it was supposed to be a downside, even though it felt incredible) was that the touch made Albus lose his breath little by little, and occasionally made his cock twitch again.
It didn't take long before it was plump and full, straining against his pyjama bottoms, stiff and touching the blankets. Hopefully they were enough to hide it. James wasn't looking, anyway.
Plenty of words and options drifted through Al's mind, but he remained silent, breathing funnily and trying to work up the courage to turn. To what side, he didn't know. The idea of turning his backside to James seemed impossible. Far too many mental images flashed by to make that a viable option. But turning to face him... It wasn't— Albus opened his eyes and looked. No, he couldn't face that, in every sense of the words.
“You're so tense. Relax.” James' fingers flexed and his thumb rubbed lightly under Al's ear.
“Jamie...” Albus cleared his throat and turned on his side, going with instinct and facing him after all. James scooted closer before Albus could pull his legs up and create a barrier again, and fear kept him in place, legs mostly straight and his dick pointing towards James. It was fine. James would never get that close. He had no reason to get that close. He wouldn't notice.
Jamie's breath smelled clear, and when their eyes locked he didn't look sleepy or drunk at all.
The hand moved from Al's nape and James touched the pad of his index finger to Al's cheek, studying it as he moved it over Albus' nose, to the other cheek. “How many d'you reckon you have?”
Albus shivered and James moved his head on the pillow, inching forward. His finger tickled, the touch so incredibly light over his cheekbone. He was still watching his own hand while Albus studied James' face.
“How many what?” Albus managed, sounding a bit hoarse. His face heated up again at the realisation.
“Freckles,” James said, curiously flicking his eyes over Albus' cheeks.
Albus relaxed. “Oh. Them. I don't know. More than you.”
It was true, while Albus got most of the Potter genes – green eyes and all – he also had the Weasley freckles. Thanks, mum, Albus thought bitterly. James was a generous mix of their parents and generally soft around the edges, somehow, despite his frame being more square and sharp than Al's own. God, he was fit though.
“That's true.” James' breath caressed his cheek, warm and completely disorienting, “I like them.”
His hand travelled down Albus' neck again, over his shoulder, down his collarbone. Oh, Merlin, his cock was throbbing. He'd be leaking soon.
The door handle clicked, dim light from the hallway pouring into their bedroom as the door swung open. Albus twitched in horror and froze, heart in his throat. James' hand was still skimming lower, his expression unchanged.
“Ja—” but his protest died on his lips, and where did the blankets go? He snatched at air but only managed to place his hand on James' hip. Albus craned his neck, looking over his shoulder, hard prick and wandering hands on display for all to see. His face was on fire.
Silhouetted against the light stood Teddy – and Albus stared. Their eyes met, and that's when his pyjama-clad cock was engulfed in the warmth and pressure of a palm. He sucked in a breath that hitched in his throat, almost making him choke on his own saliva. James hummed sleepy again, or was that a moan...?
“Oh, I see how it is, little brothers.”
James was above him now and Albus' hands were on both of his hips. “We're not brothers,” he breathed, eyes on James now, wishing everyone would stop saying that. James was sticking the tip of his tongue out between his lips, his attention fully on his hand at Al's crotch. He rubbed and squeezed, palming Albus, making the fabric twist slightly in his loose grip.
“It's fine,” Teddy said, his voice almost sing-songy. He was waving his hand dismissively when Albus glanced over, and his eyes were alight, an enthusiastic grin plastered on his face. Albus rolled his hips up without meaning to while staring at Teddy in desperation, silently pleading with him. James rubbed the head of Albus' cock, making Albus hold his breath and scrape his teeth across his bottom lip to avoid whimpering. “I'd know, wouldn't I?” Teddy said. “This is normal, Al, don't worry so much.”
It bloody well couldn't be normal.
Teddy's grin faded, turning into a comforting smile. Albus sucked in more air, finally letting himself breathe rapidly after trying to hide it for so long. Holding his breath a moment ago hadn't helped in that department either. He was openly panting.
The warmth of Teddy's smile melted away, changing into something heated, and then he was leaning against the door jamb with a predatory smirk. His hair turned dark where he stood, and he folded his arms.
“Do it, Jamie. Touch him.”
Albus' head snapped back to James. He expected to see the same predatory expression on his face, but he looked gentle and reverent instead, breathing heavily – slower than Albus – and grinding back down against him. Puffs of air rolled over Albus' face as James bent lower, grinding their hips together. Al's fingers were splayed over James' sides, and he held on, his eyes rolling back as James groaned and Albus realised he was hard too.
“Yes,” Teddy hissed, “make him come, Jamie.” Albus groaned too, giving in and pulling James down on top of him by his waist, grinding up to meet his thrusts. Fuck, there was so much precome already, he could feel his pyjama bottoms sticking to the tip of his cock as the fabric slid against Jamie's pants. God, fuck, Albus could feel the hairs on Jamie's thighs when his hands wandered lower.
“That's it, Albus,” Teddy said, his voice low. “He wants you. Can you feel how hard he is for you?”
“Ngh, Al!” James' breath was puffing over Albus' face, his lips even ghosted over his cheek, their noses brushing together as James lowered himself closer. Albus wrapped his bare legs around James, rocking against him. Delirious, magnificent bliss washed through him, consuming him, his balls tight and his prick twitching, moans and breathy whines filling the room. Jamie was hard, and willing, and the world was right. This was right, and oh god, Teddy was wanking in the corner and Albus was going to come, come, come.
“Come on, Al.” James sounded impatient. Ahh, yes, Albus was so close, and James was so warm wrapped around him, his hands tight around his arms. “Sometime this year, maybe?”
“Albus, seriously.” His right arm stung. “Wake up.”
The room was dark and Albus was breathing heavily. Drowsy and confused, his cock hard under his favourite quilt, he blinked at James, who flicked him on the arm. It stung again. “Wha...?”
“Thanks for waking me up, arsehole.”
“I – it wah s'nightmare,” Albus slurred. His face tingled with heat again, his entire body was probably flushing.
James looked unimpressed. “Please,” he scoffed, “it was a dodgy wet dream, and you could very well have it elsewhere, you know, or not at all. That'd be ideal.”
Albus rubbed a hand over his face. “It wasn't a wet dream.”
“Hm, well...” James said, speculatively, glancing down the quilt. “Maybe not wet, but pretty obviously a sex dream.”
Albus flushed, this time for sure, and threw a panicked look towards his own groin. No, he was still hard, he hadn't come in his pants in the middle of the night, while sleeping – with James in the same room. He gripped the sheets tightly. “Yeah. Well.” He didn't actually know if that was better, as he became very aware of how hard he still was.
“Yes, well.” James turned around, heading for his bed. “I'm going back to sleep. Try not waking me up again, or you'll regret it.”
The soft creak of James' mattress and the rustling sound of the duvet being pulled up as he got into bed and settled in were too loud in the quiet room. Albus could hear his own breathing, and felt nothing but his throbbing prick once it was silent again. James had his back to him and seemed to not move, and with that in mind, Albus hurriedly pushed his blankets off and dashed for the door. “I need the loo” he said unnecessarily, pausing with his hand on the door handle, James' voice stopping him, clear and amused.
“I'm sure you do. Enjoy yourself, and don't wake me up when you get back.”
“I wasn't—” Albus sputtered. “I need to use the toilet.”
“Uh-huh.” James was moving in the bed again and Albus really didn't want to know if he was being watched, so he opened the door instead. “Have a nice wank!” James called out, a little too loud, as Albus closed the door behind himself without turning around. His heart was beating furiously, the wet spot at the front of his pyjama bottoms rather large now.
After locking the door to the bathroom, he closed his eyes in misery. He hadn't brought his wand. He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and hoped everyone was asleep. Everyone but James, who knew that Al was in here, about to toss off.
Pushing that thought aside, he freed his cock and finally got his hand around it. He palmed the precome over the head and thrust into the circle of his fingers. He took a deep breath, scrunching his face up and closing his eyes, trying to keep quiet as he sped up. For a horrible moment he thought he heard something out in the hallway and paused, breathing rapidly but as quietly as he could, keeping his breaths shallow. His fingers itched to keep moving and he pushed his hips forward again, slowly, straining his ears for more sounds.
He half expected James to sneak up to the door, questioning him how it was going in a teasing whisper, but nothing happened. The idea of James lingering outside seemed terrible, but the thought of Lily or Dad, or god, Mum... That'd be worse.
Picturing James leaning outside the door, listening, Albus dug his teeth into his lip. Fuck, what if he was? Even if he wasn't, he was in bed now – in their room, warm and sleepy – and possibly thinking about the fact that Al was wanking.
Albus sucked in a breath, hand squeezing and speeding up again. He twisted his wrist and curled his other hand around his balls, rolling them. Fuck, no, he couldn't focus. He reached out instead, steadying himself on the sink, his other hand becoming a blur. The jerky movements had his hips stuttering, and he released his lip. He started panting, his mouth open wide, and he was probably being too loud, but he was so close, so close to coming, that he didn't care. He couldn't care.
His thighs tensed and his bollocks drew tight, his toes curling, and he remembered James leaning over him in the dream, how his breath had felt, and how his hand— “Uhh, fu...”
Albus grunted, dropping his head and biting his lip again, shivers going through his body. Pleasure shot through him, and he came in several small spurts over his hand and the floor.
He stood there for a while, panting and slowly stroking himself as his focus returned, his body no longer enslaved to the pleasure of chasing his orgasm. He stared at the splash of white on the floor, unable to look away. One large glob next to a smaller drop. He'd managed to smear most of the come he'd caught in his hand over his prick when he’d kept touching himself.
Grimacing, Albus let go and splayed his fingers in front of himself. God, what a mess.
Shit. And he didn't have his wand.
Feeling mortified, and yet oddly light and giggly after finishing – although that might have been a tinge of hysteria, seeing as how he'd just wanked to the thought of his own brother again – he gathered toilet paper and cleaned it all up by hand.
Thankfully their room was still, and mostly quiet, when he returned. That is, apart from James' deep, steady breaths. Albus slid into bed feeling much calmer and relaxed than before.
Feeling a little anxious the next night, Albus got into bed and hoped he'd be too tired to dream. Teddy had come over – of course he had – and after avoiding talking to him for the first twenty minutes, Albus had finally been able to look him in the eye without thinking This is normal, Al, don't worry so much. He was very sure it wasn't normal.
Seeing Teddy and James play Quidditch in the garden hadn't helped matters, of course. Even with their thicker winter clothes on, James had looked edible. Albus gave up on watching after a while though, the tug in his chest too sharp, and had escaped inside. But once the two of them got back – Teddy's hair rumpled and a bizarre shade of purple as he pulled his hat off, and James' cheeks and nose rosy from the cold – Albus was a lost cause again.
He tried pushing the image away, as he lay in bed, focusing on the stillness of the night instead. He rolled over onto his other side and tugged the quilt over his chest. This corner of the pillow was cool against his cheek.
The quiet sounds in the room were comforting, and he closed his eyes. He breathed in, out, and pressed his face firmly into the pillow for a moment.
He thought he must have dozed off, but he couldn't be sure. He was boneless and half asleep, James’ breathing across the room reminding him of earlier. James, with his red tinged cheeks and his mitten-clad hands patting over them, shoulders shaking as he breathed out an exaggerated brrr, making Teddy chuckle.
Albus closed his eyes again, realising he'd opened them, and exhaled softly and contentedly. One of their owls hooted outside the window, and Albus smiled sleepily to himself as he stuck one hand under his pillow.
James sighed in his sleep too, very quietly. There was a tiny rustle which might have been the duvet shifting, and Albus snuggled in deeper in his own bed. His thoughts were muddled, odd images fluttering through his mind, one after the next, but without his consciousness latching on to any of them. He sank deeper into a vague state of sleep.
The sheets rustled again, for a moment, and James breathed out. His exhales were long and more audible than when he breathed in; a steady rhythm of near silence followed by a breathy huff of air. Albus focused on it and let the predictability of it take over, his mind going blank again.
A tiny snore came from the other side of the room, the next inhale a little sharper, making the exhale heavier. The next few breaths were the same, every breath in caught slightly in James' throat, the exhale a little strained.
Albus' mind halted its decent, waking his body up a few degrees, and his ears perked up. James breathed out again, but it cut off. It was quiet, but his throat clicked, and then he exhaled the same way again. He breathed in fast a few times, unevenly, although still quiet, and then the mattress creaked. Albus would have missed it if he hadn't been listening for it. James sounded breathy and his throat clicked again as he failed to cut off another sharp exhale.
Albus blinked his eyes open, too awake for his own good, his prick stirring. James was asleep, or trying to fall asleep after waking up, like Albus was. Maybe he was restless, or getting comfortable. Maybe he was dreaming?
Another few breaths puffed out, each accompanied by a quiet, throaty grunt. They changed into uneven breaths that seemed to come from his nose – more wheezing and less breathy. Then he exhaled a tiny, quiet, Ohh. It barely counted as a word, Albus thought, but he was fully awake now, listening to every minute change of James' breathing.
The sheets rustled again, far more than before, almost aggressively so, and then there was a soft, wet squish. A sticky, soft slide, like when Albus used too much shampoo and the lather foamed and slicked his fingers, his palm sliding through the slippery substance. James breathed out again, the sound almost hiding the slick sound, but it kept repeating, over and over. Squishy, slick noises sort of like when Lily used her hand lotion.
Oh, Merlin's fucking gnomes.
Albus tried not picturing James with his duvet thrown aside, hand on his prick, lube or oil or lotion coating his skin, his hand gliding smoothly up and down over it.
He couldn't be.
But there it was again, that small ohh. Albus kept listening very carefully.
Slick, schlick, squish. Another breathy moan, if you could even call it that. But were they moans? That would be... It wasn't—
“What the fuck?” Albus raised up on his elbow and looked, his own prick hardening as he did so. James was on his side, his naked back to the room, and the covers were slung away. He didn't seem to be moving at all at first, but his shoulders were. They shifted slightly as he breathed. He was breathing rather fast, still, but he was keeping it quiet now. This was ridiculous.
“What?” James answered, clearly awake.
“What are you doing?”
There was one single slick sound, very distinct, but then silence fell over the room again. “What's it to you? Go back to sleep.”
“Are you...?” Albus asked, his prick loving whatever this was. All he could see in his mind's eye was Jamie's hand on his cock. What was he using? How long had he been going? Was he close? Was he going to hear James come? “Are you touching yourself?”
James sighed. “Yeah, I'm having a wank, what of it?”
“You can't...” Albus fell down on his back, pulling the quilt up to his throat, the fabric bunched up in his fists. “You can't just wank in our room.” There was another wet noise – only the one, though – and Albus closed his eyes, looking for strength. His cock was uncomfortably hard already, the feel of his pyjamas and the blankets both torture and a blessing at once. He willed himself to stay quiet, not to grind up against the friction. “Go to the loo.”
James huffed and the bed creaked quietly again. “I'm not going to the bathroom. I'm almost finished, anyway, don't listen if you don't like it. Stick a pillow over your head or cast a spell, or something.” With that, the slick slides continued, louder now. James exhaled and seemed to be getting into a more comfortable position. Albus squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying and failing to wonder if James had turned onto his back and whether or not he'd be able to see anything if he looked that way again. He wanted to tell him that James was the one who should be casting a spell, if anyone. A simple silencing charm would do the trick. But, face burning again, Albus knew he wouldn't be able to get the words out.
He wanted to hear. Pretending he didn't, though, he turned on his side and stuck his extra pillow over his ear.
“Good choice,” James said, hardly muffled at all. “I'm sure, uhh, that'll do the trick.”
“For fuck's sake, Jamie!” Albus burrowed deeper into his bed, curling up as much as was comfortable, hoping not to come in his pants.
“Oh, don't be such a prude, you grew up in a boarding school.” Schlick, schlick, schlick. Pause. A wet kind of plop followed. “Ohhh,” James moaned. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly. “I'm done soon. I'll... Ohh, fuck, sorry.”
Albus groaned into his pillow, hoping in hindsight that James would read it as frustration. It was part frustration, anyway. He sneaked his hand under the blankets and pressed hard against his erection, near the base. Fuck, no, that was worse. He grabbed it, encircling it with his fingers, and squeezed hard.
James wasn't moaning anymore, but somehow that was worse. The wet noises were loud and fast, his hand working furiously, and the mattress creaked. James' duvet rustled again, and James made a frustrated sound. He seemed to be kicking it to the floor, judging by the sounds of effort. Albus groaned again, his hand stroking himself twice under the pyjamas, over his pants, before he forced himself to stop.
“Fuck,” James breathed. His hand was moving steadily, still fast, but the wet sounds were growing softer. After a while they had mostly changed, a rougher schlap, schlap replacing them.
Albus kept his eyes closed, his hand resting against his own cock. He stroked it once more, then stopped and listened while he gave in and pictured it as vividly as he could.
Schlap, schlap, schlapschlapschlap. “Uhh, ye–es...”
Fuck, yes! James, with his legs spread, just him and his pillow on the bed, his pants around his ankles. His head was probably thrown back, his chest rising and falling with his quick breathing.
Albus rubbed back and forth over his pants, small movements, his hips rolling in tiny circles. It was probably obvious what he was doing, if James was looking his way. He was starting to sweat now, the blankets too warm. He tried raising his leg a bit, using his knee to push them up, away from his groin, hiding the movement underneath.
James had gone quiet, though, Albus realised. He lowered his leg again, straightening them but keeping them wide apart. Still, flat on his back – with his hand holding his cock down a little, only squeezing it gently – it shouldn't look suspicious.
His heart was probably beating hard enough for James to hear, though. He could feel it thumping against his ribs.
There was a loud snap-click in the silence, a sputtering fhsslth, and another click and a thud as something hit the floor. With a drawn out but quiet “Uhhnn” – the wettest, slickest squish so far filled the room. James was breathing a constant “Aahh” suddenly, the drier sounds from a moment ago replaced with the filthiest, wettest wanking sounds. James' breath hitched and Albus wasn't even sure what he could be doing, because how some of those sounds came from masturbating only, he wasn't sure.
He imagined Jamie fingering himself and shivered. Trying desperately to keep what little was left of his sanity, he hurried to lean up – keeping his eyes closed – and without much thought used his free hand to throw one of his pillows in James' direction. “Must you be so loud?” he almost wailed. He fell back onto his bed, panting and staring at the ceiling. To his surprise, the noises slowed and grew quieter, but James was still breathing heavier than what was normal. It was all Albus could hear.
Albus let go of himself a few moments later, too turned on to have any willpower left. His body was so close to making his decisions for him. He gripped his quilt instead and caught his lip between his teeth, a litany of swear words looping in his mind.
Schlick, schlick, schlick – schlickschlickschlickschlick. “Nn, uh.....”
Albus pressed his fists against his eyes, his hips jerking without his approval. It wasn't enough, but he humped the blankets all the same.
“Ohh.... ahhhh, ye— fu—” Schlickschlickschlickschlick.
Albus groaned, his hand flying down on top of the quilt, rubbing himself through layers, his hips still moving. He opened his eyes and twisted his head and strained his neck, needing to see.
James was naked and had one foot resting on the bed, knee pointing upwards, his other leg spread out to his side. One hand was gripping the base of his cock loosely, the other flying over the tip in short, jerky movements. There was a slick pop as he squeezed and pulled up until his fist slipped right off his cock. His head was thrown back, the line of his throat seeming endless, and when the hand returned to circle his cock again, Jamie's legs twitched, his back arching.
With a sharp wheeze of a breath, Jamie's hips jerked once, twice, and then his feet and legs pushed his hips up further, his back curving more, and with a grunt and his mouth wide open, he shot a creamy stripe of come right across his stomach. Albus' head swam, overwhelmed and dizzy as he drew in a breath of his own and moaned, loudly, curling in on himself as he was racked with pleasure, shivers go through him but not tipping him over the edge. Looking back up, he saw James fall back, hand still moving over his cock, squeezing the last drops of come out.
His belly and chest were painted in white stripes, and his upper chest and throat were flushed.
In the stillness that followed, Albus eased back down, folding the hem of the quilt down a few inches across his chest. He placed his hands on top of the fold, his legs still flat and straight, but wide apart, and he curled his toes. Quelling the need to touch himself, he focused on a pointy shadow on the ceiling.
“You can too, you know,” James said, his regular voice disarming in such a strange moment. “It's only fair.”
Albus remained silent, his nails digging into a seam.
“Or do you want help with it?” James continued. “I don't mind.”
“Ngh,” Albus exclaimed, his eyes wide and jaw clenched, not sure what he had actually meant to say. He didn't think he meant to speak at all.
“Don't tell me you've never exchanged a handjob with someone from school.” Albus' silence prompted him to go on. “Seriously? Not even in your dormitory? Come on, you and Scorpius must've tried it at some point, at least. You do everything together.” The bed creaked, louder than before, and Albus closed his eyes.
The side of his own bed dipped down. “You're being ridiculous. Oh, for god's sake, calm down, I'm not going to do anything.”
Albus slowly let go his death grip on the quilt and turned to look at him. James was perched on the edge of the bed, near his shoulder. Albus didn't mean to look, but his eyes glanced down before his brain caught up, and James was apparently no longer naked. He was wearing a pair of grey underpants now. But his stomach was still streaked with semen.
James followed Albus' gaze. “Oh. Shit. D'you mind?” Picking up Albus' wand from the bedside table, he tried to pass it to him. “I'm not as good at casting with this hand,” he said and wiggled the wand. “And my wand hand's a bit messy, so unless you want your wand all sticky...”
Albus carefully leaned on one elbow and accepted his wand. He raised it, stared at James' torso for another moment, and cast a cleaning charm over it and his hand.
“Thanks. So,” James said, and Albus peered at him. “You are hard, aren't you?” A trickle of sweat ran down Albus' temple and he made a sound. “Or couldn't you keep it up?” James smirked.
“I didn't go soft!” Albus protested. Well, great. That ought to do it. He snapped his mouth shut again.
“So you are hard.” James' eyes trailed over the covers and back up to Albus' face.
Maybe Albus should own up to it – unashamed, or even proud – take the Slytherin route and use it as a shield rather than crumbling under the embarrassment, so he could go and finish himself in the bathroom again. Or maybe he should channel his inner Gryffindor? All bravado and strength, and acting before thinking. Wasn't that what all good little caricatures did? All those students keeping the stereotype alive? Perhaps he should use both houses' logic and simply go for what he really wanted.
“Well, you can borrow my lube if you want,” James said, cheerfully. “There are spells too, of course, but the lube lasts longer. Trust me. Or maybe you prefer it dry? How do you like it?”
“Very eloquent, Al. What's the plan then – the loo again? It's so beneath you. Live a little, would you? Bedrooms are made for wanking. Well, wanking and sleeping.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I want to go to sleep then. Go back to bed.” Albus swallowed thickly, remembering telling him that before. False memories of James' breath across his cheek and his hand on his prick surfaced again.
“I bet you're not even hard, anyway. You're probably lying. Or are you embarrassingly small or something?”
Albus made a frustrated noise, feeling hot all over, and ripped the blankets away, tugging the corner from under James. James toppled over and put his hands down on the bed, one of them ending up on Albus' outstretched leg. Al pulled harder, getting the quilt away from James and throwing it off to the other side. Most of it slid down the opposite edge of the bed and landed on the floor. Only the corner of it rested near Albus' foot.
The air felt nice and too cold against his heated skin all at once. His shirt was damp, and his pyjama bottoms were stained. “See?” he said, defiantly. James was staring at the tented fabric between his legs. When James said nothing for several moments, Albus gripped himself, tightening the fabric around the head of his cock. “Not soft.”
“Or small,” James replied very quietly. He cleared his throat, and his sudden awkwardness made Albus feel more confident. James wasn't so cocky now, was he?
“So yeah,” Albus announced. “I'm going to finish now.” He stuck his hand down his pyjama bottoms again but paused when James wasn't leaving. He was still staring. “Do you mind?” Albus asked pointedly.
“Er – no, sure...” and with that, James reached out, trailing his fingers over the length of Albus' cock. James swallowed roughly again, hesitated, and then wrapped his hand around it, tugging slightly. Albus leaked more precome, the fabric soaked now. He sucked in a breath and held it.
On an explosive exhale, he finally managed a broken, “I—”
Shit. He was breathing far too fast again.
“Yeah, maybe it's better,” James mumbled, almost as if he was talking to himself more than anything. He reached out with both hands and grabbed the waistline of Albus' pyjama bottoms. “Right?” Albus, buzzing with desire, hard and confused, could only nod, and James – fuck him – flashed him a small grin. It seemed shaky, but it was there. “Here...”
Albus lifted his hips, guided by James, and then he wasn't wearing anything below his waist, because his pants slid down his legs along with the pyjama bottoms.
“How do you like it?” James asked, crawling up the bed and sitting down next to Albus, facing him. He reached out and stroked him a few times, slow and loose. He was watching his hand, mesmerized by the sight by the looks of it. “How close are you?” he asked in that quiet voice again.
“Um,” Albus said. His breaths were coming out shakily. “I'm...” he snapped his jaw shut, teeth clicking, as his elbow slid away and he gave in, falling back on the bed once more and spreading his legs wider, bending them at the knees a little. “I'm...” He forced his eyes to focus, willed his brain to take it in. James was next to him, concentrating, rubbing Al's thigh and wanking him.
James was wanking him.
His hand was on Albus' cock, which was leaking so much that James' fingers were sticky. “I...”Albus said, his eyes rolling back and his body going taught.
“Okay, close then.” James was speaking louder now. Not quite at normal volume, but almost. He probably would be, if there was a silencing spell on the room. Albus put his hand over his own mouth, remembering that he had to be quiet. His stomach muscles twitched and he clawed at the sheets, drawing his legs up a little and groaning into his palm. “Hold on, let me get the lu—“
Albus shot his hand out and wrapped it tightly around James' wrist before he'd even fully let go. “No,” he croaked. “Don't. Don't stop.”
“But,” James said. Albus held tighter, his eyes shut now, unable to look at him. “It'll be better.”
“Good enough,” Albus muttered. “Don't stop.” But James had let go. Only Albus' grip kept his hand hovering over his groin. Without the blankets on, sweaty as Albus was, he shivered in the cool air of the room. If he let him leave, he might not come back. “Jamie...”
“Fine, all right, but I'd be able to make it better if I got the— Ow, Merlin's tits, Albus, you're going to bruise my damn arm. Fine, I'll just use my spit, why don't I?”
Albus loosened his grip without letting go, opening his eyes, bewildered and desperate. James scooted down on the bed, bent lower, tilted his head, and sucked the tip of Albus' cock into his mouth.
“Ah!” Albus bucked his hips and dug his nails into James' wrist. It made James cough, and Albus grimaced, but James sat up with a huge grin on his face. His chest and throat were flushed pink again.
“Oh, don't tell me you've never had a blowjob either.” He tore Albus' hand away from his wrist and placed it on the bed instead, where Albus wound his fingers into the sheet while reaching up and clawing at the headboard with his other hand. Their eyes met and James practically leered at him. Albus probably looked a mess. He sure felt it, at least; sweaty and ruined and desperate.
James smiled at him while he ran a hand through his hair, then lowered over Albus again, this time holding Albus' hips down as he took the head of his cock between his lips. He sucked, hollowing his cheeks. He licked around the ridge, and lowered himself an inch.
Albus trembled and bucked again, only James was holding him down now. “Fuuck, I'm going to...”
“Oh, you're coming?” James asked, pulling off. He stroked Albus a few more times, speeding up a little. “You don't last very long, do you?”
“Fuck off,” Albus panted, digging his nails into Jamie's shoulders instead. Albus wasn't pulling exactly... Well, he didn't mean to, at least. But James was lowering the more Albus' nails pressed into his skin, and then Albus was arching his back, eyes closed and mouth open on a moan, while James was hushing him. When his nails got James low enough, he pushed with his hands, pressing James down with his palms. Jamie chuckled, the bastard.
“What else haven't you done?” He touched Albus' legs, sliding his hands up and down his thighs. Albus curled a hand behind Jamie's neck, tugging gently. James was right there, so close, Albus could feel him. He could feel his breath over his twitching cock, but he didn't suck him again. Instead he spread Al's legs wider and moved, breath ghosting over his bollocks. “No,” James said, thoughtfully. “Hm. Turn around.”
“Please.” Albus tightened his hand. “I didn't— I wouldn't—”
James humoured him, licking the slit clean with one wipe of his flat tongue. His hands stayed on Albus' thighs, but he leaned closer, mouthing at the head and slurping around it with wet suction. Al's cock bounced away as James tried to mouth the length, and James chased after it, humming and catching it in his mouth again. It slid away but James kept moving against it, pressing the cock down and trapping it against Al's stomach.
When Albus moved his hand from James' neck to the sheet, James retreated. “Come on, turn around,” he said. “I've got something in mind.” He clapped Al's thigh impatiently and ran his hand over them again. “You'll like it. Let me try something.”
Albus writhed on the bed, wrapping his legs around James' back. “I need to come,” he whispered. He grabbed his cock, pumping it as he groaned and dug his heels into James.
“For fuck's sake, Al, don't finish yet.” A hand stilled his movement and Albus squeezed his legs tight in frustration. Why?! Fuck, he knew it, James was playing with him.
“Fuck off, then!” Albus eased his legs down and sat up clumsily, bitterness mixed up with the lust. He pushed James away. James, though, only grinned and leaned closer. He twisted Albus around by his shoulders so fast that Albus fell to his side.
“Enough with the dramatics.” He lowered down on top of him. “I'll make you come soon,” he whispered into Albus' ear. “Will you let me help?”
Albus groaned, trying to push himself up. James let him, helping Albus to lean on his elbows, but then framed him with his own arms, trapping him there. “Do you want me to stop? Pull your legs up. On your hands and knees.” Albus did as asked, because if nothing else it was the best way to get out of the bed, and out of this room. Not that he wanted to. Albus hung his head, desire washing through him once more. No, he didn't care why James was doing it. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Albus breathed, giving in to the onslaught of feelings. He let the overwhelming anticipation wipe his mind clear for now.
James brushed his nose and lips down Albus' spine, not quite kissing him, but breathing a damp trail through his shirt. He paused when he reached the small of his back, pushing the shirt up. Mouthing lower, James bit lightly into one of Al's arse cheeks and moved to nip at the other, while his hands rubbed up and down at the top of Albus' thighs. Jamie's thumbs ghosted over Al's flesh, spreading goosebumps. “Let me guess, you've never done this before either?”
Albus dragged his nails across the sheet and shook his head.
“Well,” James said, as if gearing up for something, confidence radiating off him. “Neither have I!” He dove in, spreading Albus' cheeks with two warm palms, and licked across the crack. Albus grabbed handfuls of the sheet. “Oh wow,” James breathed, and Albus shivered, “it actually doesn't taste too weird. I thought it would.” He licked again, all the way up to Albus' spine.
“What are you doing?” His voice came out high and cracked. He cleared his throat.
“Not sure,” James said, “but I'm pretty sure I'm going to be brilliant at it. How hard can it be? Take this off.” He tugged at the shirt before wrapping his arms around Albus' middle and hoisting him up so they were both kneeling. “Go on.”
“Um,” Albus croaked, fumbling with it. James helped him out of it and threw it to the floor, and Albus leaned back against him even as James told him to get down again. He leaned his head back on James' shoulder, gnawing on his own lip. Turning his head, he met Jamie's gaze. “Touch me.”
“I was planning on it,” James grinned, sticking his tongue out and wagging it around. Nevertheless, he reached around Albus' hip, wrapping a hand around his cock and sucking in a breath when Albus moaned and leaned into him more. He stroked him slowly, not tight enough to be perfect but still making it good, and Albus melted against him. “Okay, that's enough.” James lifted his hand away.
Albus groaned at the loss but lowered onto his hands again.
James' mouth was back at his arse not a moment later, licking in long lines. He stopped and nipped at the roundness of his cheek, near his crack. Albus blinked hard several times, adjusting to the new sensations.
James turned his head, the tip of his nose sliding against Albus' cheek. He pressed a kiss there, then bit down for a moment before sucking another kiss into the skin. He kept kissing and nipping both cheeks, firing Al's brain up in the process until every doubt he'd ever had burned away.
This felt amazing.
Jamie's palms returned to his cheeks, his thumbs hooking into the soft flesh, and then he spread them, pulling gently, exposing Albus.
Albus closed his eyes and fell forward on his elbows, arse in the air and toes curling again. His face tingled, another blush trying to consume him. James licked again, wiggling his thumbs in further. He licked over his hole, again, and then again.
Albus was pretty distracted by his own leaking cock, to say the least, but every lick made him arch his back a little more. Little by little his focus shifted from his prick to James' ministrations.
James pressed closer, licking faster, the tip of his tongue fluttering in between broad strokes. Albus rocked back, wanting more – if there was more. He knew about fingers, and objects, and pricks... He'd never thought about tongues. Fuck, he was an idiot.
James' chin felt wet as it nudged up against him. Maybe there was a lot of spit, Albus wasn't sure. It felt wetter than before, that was true, but it was mostly the fluttering of James' tongue that he managed to focus on. It was tickling high along his crack now, licking and sucking above it. God and Merlin both, and his hands – he was grabbing and rubbing, pushing and pulling. Every time he pulled the cheeks apart, Albus thought he'd combust. He was burning up.
Sucking a mark into the left cheek, right at the top, James moved back to keep sucking at his hole, and Albus actually whimpered. “Fuck, my jaw's tired,” James complained, pulling back and trailing his fingers up and down over Albus' entrance instead. His hand disappeared and a sucking sound could be heard. When the fingers were back – two of them now – they were much wetter.
One finger fluttered over his hole, pressing and rubbing circles over it, wiggling and moving in about as much as his tongue had. It moved in, pressing slowly, and Albus bit his lip. It was only the tip but he felt pretty filled up anyway. James pulled his cheek to the side with his other hand, wriggling his finger inside, touching his second finger to the side of it, teasing the ring of muscle. Albus felt himself relax and open up only to flutter closed around James' finger as he pressed it in a bit more.
It was in a good portion of the way now, catching a little and trying to wriggle in more. James leaned in and breathed a hot, long breath over it all. Albus clenched again.
“Ah, oh god.”
James' tongue licked around the finger. He kissed Al's arse again. “Good?”
“Good.” James removed his finger and went back to spreading Albus open, this time pulling as much as he could. Albus groaned loudly, spreading his legs wide, and although James laughed and happily pressed close to speak directly into his arse, he reprimanded him with a light slap to the right cheek and sounded stressed when he spoke. “Shut up, the room isn't warded at all, idiot.” Tongue back in Al, James himself groaned low in his throat. “You'h impossibuh.”
“Ahh, fuck, s-sorry.”
James sucked and slurped for what felt like forever, shifting to lick a broad line across Albus' arse, then fucked him eagerly with his tongue again, moving his hands to Albus' hips so he could pull him back against him. He thrust in, tugging Al back at the same time, and his muffled moans vibrated through Albus, making him incoherent.
“Fuck... me... yes... don't – no, don't stop I don't – yes, ohh!”
James pulled away, panting hard, his palms pressed firmly against Albus' hips. His breath was cool against Al's wet bum. Albus squirmed.
“Bloody hell, my tongue is going to fall off.” One hand left Albus' hip and a teasing fingertip circled the rim again. “Takes more effort than I thought.” Albus felt his hole flutter, tighten, and then relax as James teased the tip of his finger in and out again. “Wow, that looks... How does it feel?” He pushed in further, rotating his finger. “Hm, hold on.”
James moved back, hands leaving Albus, the weight disappearing from the bed. Albus stayed on all fours and shivered, hot and cold and aching, all at once. He lowered himself down flat on his front and buried his face in his pillow, all too aware of how naked he was, arse on display. It definitely felt wet. It was probably glistening, maybe a little red from the groping hands and the nipping teeth.
Albus whined into his pillow. His cock was too hard, and he was still close... still wanted to...
He rolled his hips, grinding down, and groaned at the friction.
The mattress dipped down again and a click later, Albus froze. Was that the...? James squeezed the supposed bottle, air and lube making noise into the night, then the lid snapped shut again. Before Albus could suck in a steadying breath, James' finger was back, circling, dipping, and then pressing in. Albus grunted and came up for air as the digit slid in smoothly, his hands grasping the pillow and twisting the soft material. He sucked in a few short breaths and wiggled his arse, taking the finger in deeper. He wasn't sure if he or James had done that, but it didn't feel bad, so he did it again.
James' hand touched his lower back, stilling him. It seemed James had to apply a little more pressure now to push his finger deeper, but oh, it still slid in much easier than the first time.
This far in, it felt weird. Albus would have tried this sooner, on himself, but this was exactly the reason why he hadn't. It was... strange. It didn't hurt but it felt awkward. Not that the thought hadn't intrigued him, but wanking was more than fine, so why risk it?
James didn't move though, only rubbed his back soothingly. He kissed Albus' thigh, right at the crease, then leaned up and mouthed at his arse. He touched his lips to the left cheek and graced his teeth against Albus' skin. He bit down, jaw wide, and puckered his lips and sucked lightly. His tongue pressed flat against Albus, stroking in the gap his lips made. His finger pushed in, the motion making Albus press his face into the pillow again. It was fully inside Albus now. He could feel James' knuckles brush against him.
More than the mild stretch, it was the movement that was the strangest part. It was an odd sort of pressure, and the wriggling made Albus want to tear his own hair out – or maybe Jamie's. He wasn't quite sure.
James was moving his finger in and out, and around, and for every twist and turn, Albus felt himself unable to keep his groans to himself any longer. He made sure to make all of his sounds into his pillow until he started having trouble breathing and had to lift his head on a moan. His arse sucked James in, and he clenched around his finger. He was desperate for... Oh, he didn't know what at this point.
He scrambled up on his hands and knees again, while James wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him up. He was fucking Albus, there was no other word for it. His finger was moving quickly in and out, pushing inside hard at times, and then out and back in with a twist. There was another oddly brilliant wriggle, and Albus gasped. His arms trembled and James' arm tightened around him, his hand still moving hurriedly, pressing in and pulling out.
He slowed after a long moment, shifting behind Albus and changing the angle. He let go of Albus' middle and squeezed more cool lube onto his entrance after pulling his finger out almost all the way. Going in, slicker again and a little cool, he stretched Albus wider with two fingers. He paused before he'd pushed in completely, resting his fingers there for a couple of seconds. Albus grunted and waited.
Finally, James twisted his hand and pressed in more. He widened his fingers, scissoring them, slowly easing in. He wriggled them, pushing and shifting the angle. He curled his fingers and half groaned, half hummed in frustration and without warning sharp pleasure vibrated through Albus and he clenched his arse, hard, and gasped.
“What happened?” James asked excitedly, but didn't wait for an answer. “Did you feel that? Was that it? Hold on...”
Albus hung his head low and panted with his mouth open, staring at the dark spot on the sheet where the precome had rubbed off. His cock was flushed with colour. As he looked, trying to focus, but having a hard time, he saw another droplet forming at the tip. It eventually dripped down in a short sticky string before it broke off and landed on the sheet as well.
James curled his fingers again and hit that spot. Oh, Merlin, his prostate – James was fingering his fucking prostate.
He did it again, and Albus fell down on his elbows again – this time completely without grace.
“Yes,” James exclaimed triumphantly. He swiped his fingers over it and Albus groaned, pushing his hand under himself and grabbing his cock. “Oh, you like that.” James sounded smug, but Albus only nodded furiously as he touched himself.
A couple of swipes later, and some enthusiastic fucking in and out, too, James sighed and moved away. If the intrusion had been strange, the emptiness afterwards was even odder. Oh, fuck. Hand around his leaking prick, he thumbed the head and moved the foreskin back and forth over the length.
“Are you going to come?” James asked, hands on Al's hips, sliding over his arse. The mattress shifted and his mouth was back at Albus' backside, breathing and licking little swipes.
“Unhh, yeah,” Albus moaned, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his body pulled taut and clenching.
“Come on then, Al.” He sucked wet kisses into his skin, nipping at the crease, focusing on his upper right thigh for a while. He licked his way back to his hole, and Albus groaned. James fucked his tongue in, pulled it out, licked flatly up an inch, then down and, ohhh, fuck, the hard tip of his tongue was fluttering and poking him again. It found its way inside, deeper now, James' hands pulling Al's cheeks apart and moaning around his mouthful. His face pressed closer, pushing Albus forwards. Albus instinctively pushed back.
Liking that, Albus pushed back harder. Jamie's nails dug into his skin in response, holding on to Albus' arse while Albus gripped his pillow with his free hand, pulling it away and tossing it aside to latch on to the side of the mattress instead. He clawed at the sheet right at the edge, pulling it loose and bunching it up in his hand.
James moaned and made muffled, panting, groaning sounds. His tongue worked faster and Albus sped up alongside him, his hand flying over his cock.
White-hot pleasure stabbed at his insides, the feeling starting at his toes and spreading up his thighs, working its way through his body. His legs slid wider apart until he felt the stretch, and he moaned with every breath, hips jerking. The feeling spread over him, muscles twitching, and with Jamie's groaned, “Ohhh 'uching chome alreavy,” Albus tensed, his eyes rolling back.
James moved away with breathless profanity spilling from his lips. He wrapped himself around Albus, pressing his face against Albus' back. There was an answering hardness stirring; James rocked his half hard cock against him once, nestling it snugly between their bodies. Fuck, was he actually...? Al could feel saliva wet against his skin where James' open mouth breathed heavily against him. Oh, fuck – this was no dream – he really was hard for him. Jamie's arm moved back around Albus' waist, his hand grasping Al's own, working his cock together. He twisted his wrist, the motion twisting Albus' hand too, and Albus bucked under him.
“Yes,” James said, almost begging, and Albus made a deep and loud guttural sound. He could feel his own wretched groan – chest and throat vibrating with it – and then everything stopped, and he choked on it as hot pulsating pleasure burst out all over him when he came. He shook with it, choking on the air he tried to breathe in, jerking within James' embrace as pulse after pulse spurted out of him.
James was moving their hands slowly over his cock, milking out every last bit of come, while Albus kept trying to breathe. He felt air rushing in and out, aware that he could actually focus enough to breathe now, but instead his arms and legs were giving out. He was bloody light-headed, and his hand was only still around his own cock because James was trapping it there.
James mumbled against his back, face between his shoulder blades, but Albus didn't hear what he said. He couldn't. He was lowered to the bed, though, still breathing in and out with long, deep breaths. He moved his arms, placing his hands on either side of his head, realising James had let go, although he was still resting on top of him. The weight of Jamie was more noticeable now, plastered against Albus' back as he was. He covered the back of Al's hand with his own, both of them sticky. Their fingers tangled together.
Albus continued breathing, lying boneless and exhausted under James. He kept his eyes open, staring at the carvings in the headboard.
“I think,” James started saying, but the rest of his words grew faint and unintelligible.
James had touched him, Albus thought hazily. Finally, James had touched him. Was this reality? It was probably another vivid dream. A very, very vivid... soft... sleepy dream.
James whispered too quiet words against his neck. Then, with a squeeze to his hand, he said, very quietly, “You're beautiful.” Whether he intended Albus to hear that or not, Albus didn't want to think about.
When James got up, Albus shivered. He closed his eyes, his heart aching. A moment later James shook the quilt out over him and placed the pillow next to his head. He pressed a palm to Albus' back, firm but brief, and then he left.
Jamie's duvet rustled and his mattress creaked. After he stilled, the only sounds in the room were those of their breaths.
“Goodnight, Al.” James' voice was soft and unsure, a questioning lilt to his words.
Albus breathed in a quiet, long breath and tucked the pillow carefully under his head. He let it out – slowly relaxing into his bed, not caring that he was lying in his own come, hand still sticky, his forehead damp with cooling sweat.
“Yeah... goodnight.” He smiled to himself. “Sweet dreams, Jamie.”