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hackthis_archiveHarry Potter
Theodore Nott/Neville Longbottom (NC-17)
The Thousandth Man-verse
Dedicated to the four letters that made it possible: A, K & H. Oh, and C.
The Coast is Never Clear
There were several things Theodore Nott took under consideration before he extended an invitation to Neville Longbottom to visit him at Nott Terrace during the Winter Break of their sixth-year:
a) The whereabouts of his sister, Alexandria, and their doting house elf, Dottie during said visit;
b) Whether or not Neville’s grandmother would be willing to let her grandson visit the son of a known consort of The Dark Lord, and if not, did Theodore even care? The answer being a resounding ‘no’, and
c) (which perhaps should have been a) would Neville Floo directly to the kitchen or the sitting room?
For the obvious reasons -- propriety and a need for privacy -- the kitchen seemed to be the natural choice.
The kitchen Floo was more of a back route used by house elves and less-pedigreed wizards, but Theodore didn’t want Neville to think he considered Neville the sort of person who Floo’d into kitchens all the time. After all, Theodore rarely Floo’d into anyone’s kitchen at any point, ever -- but he was a Slytherin and Neville was a Gryffindor, and who knew what they did?
When he was small, Theodore had traveled with his house elf by the secondary line and traveled with his mother by the mainline; he had traveled by the backline only twice by himself. On both occasions he had been on family business that required great discretion, hence the use of the kitchen Floo.
Use of the Floo in the sitting room was rather obvious, and more importantly it was the sort of thing that people kept tabs on. Well, not people in terms of a Ministry Committee, but Theodore’s father had told him tales of the Hawke family, who’d been responsible for Floo Law & Maintenance since the earliest days of the Network.
Referred to by the Muggles as “Chimney sweeps”, the Hawkes knew the whereabouts of any wizard or witch at any given time if they traveled by Floo Network.
The Backdoor Floo, as it was commonly referred to, however, was monitored by a sole cantankerous old Italian wizard, Frederico Antonio de Medici, who never answered any route inquiries and instead regaled callers with tales of his ancestors. The stories grew old after the first few times, and yet, Theodore still listened avidly when the kitchen elves recounted how de Medici’s family had once hexed the entire Muggle religion of Catholicism.
Unlike many of his peers, Theodore held house elves – particularly the Nott house elves -- in a solicitous sort of respect. There was never a question of who was in charge, but Theodore had a healthy esteem for wandless magic and anyone who prepared his food on a daily basis, and he’d instilled the same appreciation in Alexandria.
This was not a sentiment shared by many of his equals, like a good deal of the Nott philosophy, but it was another one of those things that Theodore had learned how to keep to himself. After all, one didn’t have to grow up in Malfoy Manor to understand the general order of the world — particularly the whys and hows of unpopular opinions and those who spoke freely of holding them.
Not all Slytherins were power-mad, murdering megalomaniacs, but none were stupid enough to publicly question those who were. The common thread among all Slytherin families being a desire to keep breathing and living, unfettered by any Unforgivable Curses.
Everyone understood that sort of ambition.
For his part, Theodore knew that attempting to upset the status quo was foolhardy, and he had no desire to do so. At most you could change one mind -- you simply had to make certain that was a mind worth changing.
In Theodore’s experience a person was intelligent, but people were unbearably dense. He wasn’t terribly certain where house elves stood in this equation; it wasn’t something he had given a great deal of thought to.
When he had suggested to Dottie that Alexandria required new robes, she had nodded her head and agreed that Alexandria was outgrowing her everyday robes without any further comment. Dottie needed no further prodding to make an appointment at Armani Wizarding in Diagon Alley for Alexandria to have a fitting, which was obviously why she had been picked as a suitable caretaker for the youngest Nott.
That and her ability to follow thinly-veiled orders.
Not that Theodore felt the need to veil his orders when requiring things to be done, but he had heard all about the Dobby/Lucius/Harry Potter fiasco, and he didn't want anything of that sort to occur under his roof.
The pretense of kindness could go a long way, and with Alexandria and Dottie otherwise engaged, the only other impediment to Theodore having Neville over was his father.
Since Those Events At The Ministry, Alexander Nott had spent a great deal of time outside of Nott Terrace, but where exactly his father was spending his mornings and a great deal of his afternoons was not known to Theodore.
It was impertinent to be suspicious of one's father, but that was far better than admitting to being concerned. The carefully vague queries of his Aunt Narcissa, and the more direct questions of his sister, led Theodore to believe that his father was not whiling away his hours in the company of other Death Eaters.
In Theodore’s mind this could only be seen as a good thing, and yet, he was troubled by his father’s lack of appearances within the inner circle. It was one thing to distance oneself from certain activities, but something else entirely to be seen doing so.
Everything Theodore strove to be could be traced back to his father, mother and aunt -- everything he worked to avoid could be found in Draco and Lucius; therefore, Theodore could only trust that his father was making the right decisions.
Not that trust was not a distinguishing Slytherin characteristic, but loyalty was, and it did Theodore no good to fret and agonise over things not within his power.
He couldn’t protect everyone all the time, nor did he wish to – at most he could be discreet and make intelligent choices. He could do his best to keep those he cared for safe, or at the very least make certain that his own choices didn’t endanger them.
*
Theodore had reasons for wanting Neville’s company without the intrusion of other people: the desire to move about without worrying over who was coming around the corner every five seconds; the ability to wear whatever he chose without using an Obscuro; and a lack of endless pandering required by most of his associates –- but there was also something more primal.
He could pretend that once again he sought Neville’s vast knowledge of Herbology and all things plant-related. He could say he was considering buying Alexandria a toad, or that he sought companionship and conversation. None of these things was completely untrue, except the toad business, but the fact of the matter was that the time Theodore and Neville spent alone together in the library and the greenhouses and various other locations was wreaking havoc on Theodore’s hormones.
Really, it was a matter of sex.
Theodore wanted to have sex with Neville, but he was completely unwilling to do so at school, because that was entirely too crass and common, and who knew who might come barging in like a herd of centaurs and ruin the moment. It was fine to be seen shagging another Slytherin, or even a Ravenclaw, but this was a more delicate matter, and as such it required more finesse.
Naturally they had exchanged hand jobs, and there had been fellatio and all sorts of explorations under robes and shirts and inside trousers, but the vast majority of these exchanges had taken place standing up or in empty classrooms. The fact of the matter was that Theodore wanted Neville naked, and in his bed, and that was not possible at Hogwarts.
It was possible at Nott Terrace, and while such behaviour could have been construed in some quarters as unwise and foolish -- especially in light of that business with his father trying to kill Harry Potter -- on the surface there was nothing questionable about it.
Neville came from a long line of purebloods and fine stock; his parents were well-known casualties of Past Events, and no one could disapprove of Neville on the face of it. Of course there was the matter of families and sides and acquaintances and all that other nonsense that inevitably came up whenever two people who weren’t formally thought to interact came together, but Theodore didn’t have time for all that rubbish.
Besides, he had needs that had to be met.
He was a seventeen year-old Nott, and no one was going to keep him from having sex with his boyfriend, if that was what he wanted. Theodore hadn't announced as much to Neville when he invited him over, but there was no point in dwelling on something so self-evident.
Neville had been nervous enough about accepting Theodore's offer, even though Theodore had assured him that he would look after him. Not that Neville couldn't look after himself -- surely Theodore's father's convalescence had shown that, but there was no need to trouble the issue with unnecessary facts.
Theodore had everyone's best interests at heart, especially his own, and it would do him no good for his father to find Neville Longbottom in their home.
So in preparation of this event, on the correct day and time, Theodore took a long hot bath and dressed himself in his favorite outfit, an artfully faded bottle green shirt and a pair of dark blue-black trousers. In a moment of whimsical fancy, he decided to forgo shoes for bare feet, and after a brief glance in the mirror, he went to make sure the house was rid of its various occupants.
Theodore wasn’t terribly obsessed with his looks, but it wouldn’t do for him to entertain a guest looking less than his best, especially a guest he was planning on separating from his virginity. Not that Neville had ever told Theodore he was a virgin, but the truth was rather obvious whenever they were alone together. Theodore found it rather charming in a somewhat amusing manner; it was a rather common assumption that Gryffindors only had sex for procreative purposes, which apparently was not entirely true.
A quick sweep through Alexandria’s playrooms and his father’s bedroom showed that their primary occupants were indeed out, and Theodore took the stairs down to the first floor somewhat quicker than he normally did. He paused in the foyer for a moment and considered the large portrait of his mother than hung against one wall. There were several occasions when he would look for her and find the painting empty, but on this day Anora Nott sat at her roll-top desk writing, with her favorite owl, Nimue, perched on the edge. Theodore watched her for several seconds as her ivory quill dashed back and forth, and she reached up to push dark locks behind her ear.
“Theodore, where are your socks and shoes?” she asked, after lifting her head and placing her quill back in its inkwell. Shifting in her chair, she rearranged the indigo-coloured robe she wore and fixed her gaze on her son.
Theodore hadn’t even realised she’d noticed his entrance, but his mother had always been very perceptive. His father said it was because she was a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw -- normally he only said this after she caught him attempting to hide something from her.
“I thought I would go without today,” said Theodore, brushing the invisible wrinkles from his attire. It took him a moment to comprehend that he was fidgeting, and when he looked up at her portrait she was smiling.
Her smile was small, but genuine. “Did you now?” she said, propping one arm on the side of her desk and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.
“Yes, Mother.”
Theodore stood as still as possible as his mother gave him a rather appraising once over. Anora Nott had sharp, angular features and long dark hair, which had been inherited by both of her children.
“Indeed, well, do be careful where you step,” she said after several moments.
“I will.”
“I know you will,” was all she said. They looked at each other intently for some time before his mother nodded her head and waved him on his way. “I would love to stay and chat, but I must finish this epistle and then I’m to have tea with your great-aunt Daphne.”
“Great-uncle Reginald’s fourth wife?”
“No, my darling, his second. Anyway, I’m sure you have things you must attend to, so off you go.”
“Yes, Mother.” Theodore gave his mother a sharp nod as he left the foyer and headed towards the kitchen. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he passed by his father’s second study and his mother’s old sitting room, which now served as a schoolroom for Alexandria. The door was slightly ajar, and Theodore nearly stepped on one of her animated ostriches, which had escaped from her zoo menagerie.
He had once tried to explain to Alexandria the mechanics and insanity of The Ostrich Races, but as she had never seen twenty-seven ostriches careening around the countryside, the explanation was a bit lost. Alexandria continued to think all ostriches were adorable and friendly, and she had blackmailed Theodore into promising to take her when the races were held in Prague in the next leap year, which he was not looking forward to at all.
The last Ostrich Races had been held in Milan, and Theodore had attended them in the company of Draco, Blaise, Aunt Narcissa and a wing of the Zabini family that lived locally. Everything had gone smoothly, or as smoothly as things with Draco ever went, until there was an altercation with Draco, three escaped racing Ostriches from Tunisia, and some underfed Muggle women from the local circus, Fashion Week, who were under some illusion that Draco walked a cat.
Blaise had found the whole incident impossibly amusing, but Theodore had been the one forced to restrain Draco to stop him from hexing a piazza full of people.
It was the sort of disaster that always occurred travelling with Draco, and Theodore had to force himself to focus on more pleasant things.
The Nott kitchen was clean and bright and empty. Great bunches of sage and thyme hung from the rafters, and the slate tiles underfoot were rather chilly. There were copper pots drying on the sideboard and the fireplace was only marginally sooty, which meant that Biddy and Pokey had taken Theodore’s request for quail for dinner seriously and were obviously out procuring some at the wizarding bazaar. Considering quail was horribly out of season, the nearest possible bazaar to stock them would probably be somewhere warm, like Algiers. Clearly they would be gone some time, which was exactly what Theodore had hoped for.
Theodore glanced up at the clock on the wall briefly; he loathed waiting, and in exactly six seconds Neville would be one minute late.
The thought was cut off by a crackling in the fireplace and a flash of light.
The smoke was stifling, and Theodore shaded his eyes from the brightness. He heard Neville coughing before he actually saw him, and he stepped forward into the cloud of ash and caught Neville just as he stumbled out of the fireplace.
There was soot on Neville’s cheeks and in his hair, but his eyes were bright with the flurry of Floo travelling and he radiated heat.
Theodore opened his mouth to welcome Neville to Nott Terrace and found himself on the receiving end of a brain-shattering kiss. Neville’s hands gripped Theodore’s biceps and held him fast as his tongue slipped into Theodore’s mouth and wiped his brain of conscious thought.
Neville’s lips were cold and dry, but no-longer chapped, and he tasted of toothpaste and dirt. Theodore was completely blindsided by this aggressive version of Neville Longbottom.
He quite liked it.
His body certainly took notice, and when Neville pulled away, Theodore cleared his throat and adjusted his clothing. He was at a loss for what to say, and Neville coloured when he smiled.
“I missed you,” Neville said.
Theodore smirked and licked his lower lip. “So I gathered,” he said, busying himself with helping Neville unfasten and remove his traveling cloak.
Neville was attempting to tell him something about something or other, but Theodore wasn’t listening since he was much more interested in sniffing Neville’s neck and investigating how Neville’s arse looked in the dark blue jeans he was wearing.
His hands ghosted over Neville’s hips and arse of their own accord, and Theodore only looked up when he noticed Neville was laughing. “You’re not listening to anything I’m saying, are you?”
“Of course I am,” Theodore said taking Neville’s cloak and folding it over his arm.
“Really?” Neville stepped forward, forcing Theodore to step back once, twice, and he started slightly when his back hit the wall. “What did I just say then?”
It took Theodore a moment to collect himself when he realised that Neville was, well, nuzzling his neck. Even though Neville’s nose was cold, the brush of his nose against Theodore’s neck was making it hard for Theodore to concentrate. “You said you thought we should go see my room, which I think is an excellent idea.”
When Neville lifted his head, his brow was furrowed, but then he smiled. “That’s exactly what I said.”
Theodore smirked and slipped away from Neville. “I know.”
*
The gray marble passageways of Nott Terrace were wide enough for Neville and Theodore to walk side-by-side with ease, but despite the excess of space, their hands continually brushed against each other as they walked through the halls. Neville’s cheeks flushed when he caught Theodore watching him taking everything in.
“I’ll take you on a tour some time if you like,” said Theodore as they passed several windows, which looked out onto the property. “Sometime when the weather is warmer and you can explore the grounds.”
The family Augurey was sitting on a low branch of a Chinese Elm, practising his scales in preparation for what Theodore assumed, would be another torrential downpour.
“I’d like that,” Neville said.
Theodore never hesitated in taking Neville through the foyer instead of using the backstairs, but he was rather disappointed that his mother wasn’t in her painting so introductions could be made. “I had hoped to introduce you to someone,” he said pausing and pointing to his mother’s empty portrait. “But it appears that she’s gone visiting.”
“Maybe next time?” Neville’s sentiment echoed Theodore’s earlier indication that there would be a next time, which made something in Theodore’s chest tighten, but not in a bad way.
Neville opened his mouth as if to say something further, but instead bit his lower lip.
“I think she would like that,” Theodore said.
“It’s a really nice house,” Neville began hesitantly. “Our house isn’t nearly so – it’s just not like this. But I mean that in a good way,” he hurriedly added on the last part.
“Well, I quite like it.” Theodore winked at Neville as he shifted Neville’s cloak from one arm to the other and motioned for Neville to follow him upstairs. “It’s not necessarily the biggest house,” he said. “But it keeps us dry.”
Neville rolled his eyes, and Theodore laughed openly and freely. It was an amazing feeling, and one to which he was becoming accustomed the more time he spent with Neville. Of course it was the sort of thing that was completely un-Slytherin and very un-Nott, which was obviously why, when Theodore was still snickering when they reached the second floor, he woke up the portrait of his Great-Uncle Reginald.
“What on earth is that infernal noise you’re making?” the portrait demanded, and Theodore sighed. The portrait swung back and forth as his uncle shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.
Theodore watched his great-uncle lift his monocle up to his bad eye, become aware of his mistake and then switch it to his good eye. Next to him, Theodore could feel Neville radiating anxiety.
He tamped down on an urge to reach down and squeeze Neville’s hand.
“Hello, Great-Uncle,” Theodore said, shifting the cloak to his left arm. “How are you today?”
“Terrible, my boy, absolutely terrible. I’ve got a toad in my throat, and my wand hand’s swollen from all the rain and cold weather. Your useless Uncle Gerald still hasn’t avenged that slight from 1903, and word’s come down that your Great-Aunt Anastasia will be joining me shortly. You know I never cared for my third wife. Or was she my sixth?”
“I believe she was your sixth,” Theodore said. He shifted closer to Neville slowly, and brought his right hand up to the small of Neville’s lower back. Theodore was pleasantly surprised when Neville didn’t start, but his back went rigid.
“You have to watch out for those women, boy, they’re crafty.” Reginald tapped his nose with his monocle. “I should know -- I married enough of them.”
Theodore rubbed circles on the small of Neville’s back, hoping he would relax, but if anything he seemed to be more on edge. “Great-Uncle, I want you to meet Neville Longbottom.”
Reginald lifted his monocle, and his face grew larger in the portrait as he leaned closer. “What’s that you say, boy?”
“Longbottom, Uncle Reginald.” Theodore whispered into Neville’s ear, “He’s a bit deaf.”
“Longnottom?”
Neville shivered when Theodore’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “And a bit mental.”
Theodore felt an overwhelming urge to do something completely shocking and perhaps squeeze Neville’s arse or drop to his knees and suck Neville off in front of his Great-Uncle, but he thought better of it. He wasn’t terribly fond of sharing.
“Longbottom.” Theodore enunciated clearly while moving back into his own space, and he licked his lips as his uncle studied Neville. Neville’s skin tasted quite good, if not a bit sooty.
“Longbottom, you say? I knew a smashing bloke at school, Vincent Longbottom, married an Emily Van Der Klempt. Titan of a woman you know. First female beater in Ravenclaw. Broke my nose twice.” Reginald seemed delighted, but if it were at all possible Neville grew more nervous.
“That’s - that’s my grandmother,” he said.
“Is it really?” Reginald said. “Oh, you poor boy, and how is your nose these days?”
Neville let out a tiny chuckle. “It’s fine. It’s only been broken once.”
“Yes, I’m not surprised. You know, your grandmother was quite a looker back in her day. She used to go around with --”
“I’m sure Neville would love to hear your stories, Great-Uncle,” Theodore interrupted. “But we wouldn’t want to keep you from preparing for Great-Aunt Anastasia’s arrival.”
“Oh, Merlin’s goolies,” Reginald said. “Yes, I suppose I’d best be getting on then.”
Neville and Theodore watched as Reginald tottered to his feet and produced a snub-nosed cane from up his sleeve. “Send my regards to your grandmother, Nathaniel, and protect your nose!”
Theodore covered his mouth with Neville’s cloak to hide his smirk, and waited until his great-uncle had hobbled out of his portrait to say anything further. “It looks as though you’re a hit with the family.”
Neville shook his head and stepped away from Theodore’s hand. “I can’t believe you were molesting me while we were talking to your dead great-uncle.”
“No, if I’d actually fondled your arse as I’d been thinking of doing -- that would have been molestation. In this matter, I was simply attempting to relieve your tension.”
Neville looked horrified for a moment. “You wouldn’t have dared.”
“I wouldn’t have?” Theodore narrowed his eyes and stepped into Neville’s personal space. “Are you so certain of that?”
“I was tense because -- because of you!” Neville blurted out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Theodore couldn’t help but look where his hands were, and no wonder Neville had seemed so tense.
Theodore would’ve been tense talking to someone’s family with an erection himself.
“Would you like some help with your problem?” he said, running the palm of his right hand over the bulge in Neville’s jeans.
Neville opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Theodore said, squeezing Neville through the fabric.
*
Theodore wasn’t a great proponent of convoluted seduction techniques. Slytherins on a whole leaned more towards the ‘if you want something, you should take it’ school of thought; and while that was all well and good in most situations, especially those involving his fellow Slytherins, Theodore’s technique seemed to be lacking somewhat when it came to seducing Neville –- or at the very least getting him in Theodore’s bed.
They were a veritable grope-fest at Hogwarts, and Theodore had just accosted Neville in the hall, but now that Neville was in Theodore’s bedroom, Theodore was sitting at his desk as though he had no idea what was supposed to come next. Draco would have said something about his own preternatural good-looks; Blaise would have said something witty; Theodore could only be himself.
“Do you like the art?” he asked, getting to his feet and crossing to the bay window where Neville was looking at various pastels. The paleness of Neville’s skin was a great distraction from the blue walls of Theodore’s room, and he narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on the pages in Neville’s hands.
Theodore had had involved dreams about Neville’s hands.
“They’re lovely renderings.” Neville didn’t look up as Theodore situated himself at Neville’s elbow, but he did seem to lean into Theodore’s space when Theodore pointed at one of his favourites. “You said they were done by your sister?”
Neville’s eyes were bright in the afternoon sun and Theodore nodded. “Alexandria is the talented one in the family.” His lips brushed Neville’s ear as he spoke, and he could see Neville shudder.
“I don’t know if she’s the only talented one.” Neville’s voice was husky, and Notts didn’t do modesty well, but Theodore could feel the heat colouring his cheeks.
“Will I get to meet her one day?”
Neville’s tone this time was teasing, and yet it seemed as though he was being earnest. Notts didn’t do confusion either, so Theodore would hear what he wanted to hear. “I think we’d both like that.”
Theodore took the etchings out of Neville’s hand and dropped them lightly on the window seat. “I was looking at those,” Neville protested good-naturedly as Theodore leaned in and pecked him on the mouth.
“They’re not going anywhere,” Theodore said, crowding Neville towards the large bed in the centre of the room. “You can look at them later.”
Neville clearly wasn’t expecting it when he backed into Theodore’s bed, and he grabbed at Theodore before falling backwards and taking Theodore with him.
The wind was knocked out of Theodore’s lungs for several moments, and he shook his head and smirked -- he’d managed to get Neville exactly where he wanted him.
“That worked out quite well,” he said, tugging on Neville’s hips to urge him further onto the bed. They were stretched out parallel to the headboard and pillows; their legs tangled over the side of the bed. Theodore couldn’t be bothered to correct their situation. “I didn’t even have to resort to any nefarious planning – which on second thought isn’t quite right at all. This is all very unbecoming for a Slytherin, you know,” he said running his hands up Neville’s chest and pushing himself up.
Neville chuckled as Theodore knelt on either side of Neville’s thighs. “Is it, really?” asked Neville. “And what else is behaviour unbecoming a Slytherin?”
Theodore leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Neville’s forehead and another on his nose. “This is… and this is --”
“And this absolutely is,” he announced before leaning forward and kissing Neville heatedly. Neville’s lips parted easily under Theodore’s, and whereas once they’d had problems with coordination, now they fit fluidly.
His tongue slipped between Theodore’s lips, and Theodore could taste the soot from where he’d kissed Neville’s face and then kissed Neville.
Theodore felt Neville’s smile against his mouth, and he couldn’t muster a frown of his own as his hands scrambled to push Neville’s white shirt up under his arms. His plans were nullified when Neville’s arms came around his waist, and when he inched forward he noticed he was sitting rather firmly on Neville’s erection.
Theodore ground downward experimentally and was rewarded with a groan from Neville and a glorious rush of heat from his own groin. Neville gave his lower lip a sharp nip when Theodore began rocking his hips back and forth in tiny motions.
The friction against his cock and his arse were amazing, and if this was how it felt fully clothed, they obviously needed to take off their clothing -- but that required stopping, and Theodore wasn’t terribly interested in that.
He let a small groan escape when Neville’s hands gripped his waist, and Neville began thrusting upwards with considerable strength.
This wasn’t quite how Theodore had envisioned passing the afternoon, at the very least there should have been more skin exposed, but he was busy pulling Neville's hair and couldn’t think clearly.
The bedsprings began to creak, and Theodore panted against Neville’s mouth and throat. He propped himself up with a death-grip on the duvet, but the blue silk was slippery and made it difficult. Sweat formed underneath his clothes, and his trousers grew damp from the friction on his confined cock.
Neville’s hands slipped, or moved, and one moment they were on his hips and the next they were groping his arse. Theodore could practically feel Neville’s fingerprints through the thin wool-blend of his trousers, and Neville’s grip was going to leave marks.
Theodore’s orgasm hit him like a hex and rolled through his body leaving him confused and stupid. Neville held him firmly for a few more thrusts before coming himself, and Theodore panted against Neville’s neck for several long moments before levering himself off of Neville’s body.
Theodore rolled over onto his back, and stroked his chest a few times to make sure he was still breathing.
He’d had sex often enough, and yet he couldn’t recall his orgasm ever being so intense. Every nerve in his body was alight, and he could feel the soft knit of his shirt underneath the flat of his hand. He looked over at Neville when he chuckled lightly and then tugged at the sleeve of Neville’s shirt to bring him closer.
“I never took you for a cuddler,” Neville said even as he entwined his arms and legs with Theodore’s and rested his head on Theodore’s chest.
“This isn’t cuddling,” Theodore said, even as he stroked Neville’s hair. “This is conservation of body heat… It’s also a bit uncomfortable,” he said after several moments, propping himself up and tugging at his trousers.
“I could sort that out,” Neville said.
“Please do.”
“Right,” Neville said sitting up. “I just -- do you hear something?”
“Apart from the pounding in my head? No,” said Theodore.
“That would be all the blood rushing back to where it stays normally,” Neville teased. “I do I think someone’s calling you though, Theodore.”
“Not possible. No one’s home.”
And then Theodore heard someone calling his name.
He would know that voice anywhere.
“Bugger,” he said, levering himself up and over Neville rather quickly. Grabbing his wand from the cupboard, Theodore cast a quick Scourgify on his clothing, and tried to compose himself. Now was not the time for this.
He glanced up at Neville’s bemused expression and cast a quick Scourgify on him as well. “Do not move,” Theodore said. “I won’t be more than five minutes.”
Neville looked at the clean, but rumpled state of his clothing. “Five minutes?”
Theodore’s breath caught at the sight of Neville pawing at his own shirt absently. “Three minutes,” he corrected. “One-hundred and eighty seconds. I promise. You can even count.”
“One, two, three…”
Theodore closed the door on four.
Neville didn’t count in increments in French -- thank Mordred.
TBC in The Coast is Never Clear (II of II)
Theodore Nott/Neville Longbottom (NC-17)
The Thousandth Man-verse
Dedicated to the four letters that made it possible: A, K & H. Oh, and C.
There were several things Theodore Nott took under consideration before he extended an invitation to Neville Longbottom to visit him at Nott Terrace during the Winter Break of their sixth-year:
a) The whereabouts of his sister, Alexandria, and their doting house elf, Dottie during said visit;
b) Whether or not Neville’s grandmother would be willing to let her grandson visit the son of a known consort of The Dark Lord, and if not, did Theodore even care? The answer being a resounding ‘no’, and
c) (which perhaps should have been a) would Neville Floo directly to the kitchen or the sitting room?
For the obvious reasons -- propriety and a need for privacy -- the kitchen seemed to be the natural choice.
The kitchen Floo was more of a back route used by house elves and less-pedigreed wizards, but Theodore didn’t want Neville to think he considered Neville the sort of person who Floo’d into kitchens all the time. After all, Theodore rarely Floo’d into anyone’s kitchen at any point, ever -- but he was a Slytherin and Neville was a Gryffindor, and who knew what they did?
When he was small, Theodore had traveled with his house elf by the secondary line and traveled with his mother by the mainline; he had traveled by the backline only twice by himself. On both occasions he had been on family business that required great discretion, hence the use of the kitchen Floo.
Use of the Floo in the sitting room was rather obvious, and more importantly it was the sort of thing that people kept tabs on. Well, not people in terms of a Ministry Committee, but Theodore’s father had told him tales of the Hawke family, who’d been responsible for Floo Law & Maintenance since the earliest days of the Network.
Referred to by the Muggles as “Chimney sweeps”, the Hawkes knew the whereabouts of any wizard or witch at any given time if they traveled by Floo Network.
The Backdoor Floo, as it was commonly referred to, however, was monitored by a sole cantankerous old Italian wizard, Frederico Antonio de Medici, who never answered any route inquiries and instead regaled callers with tales of his ancestors. The stories grew old after the first few times, and yet, Theodore still listened avidly when the kitchen elves recounted how de Medici’s family had once hexed the entire Muggle religion of Catholicism.
Unlike many of his peers, Theodore held house elves – particularly the Nott house elves -- in a solicitous sort of respect. There was never a question of who was in charge, but Theodore had a healthy esteem for wandless magic and anyone who prepared his food on a daily basis, and he’d instilled the same appreciation in Alexandria.
This was not a sentiment shared by many of his equals, like a good deal of the Nott philosophy, but it was another one of those things that Theodore had learned how to keep to himself. After all, one didn’t have to grow up in Malfoy Manor to understand the general order of the world — particularly the whys and hows of unpopular opinions and those who spoke freely of holding them.
Not all Slytherins were power-mad, murdering megalomaniacs, but none were stupid enough to publicly question those who were. The common thread among all Slytherin families being a desire to keep breathing and living, unfettered by any Unforgivable Curses.
Everyone understood that sort of ambition.
For his part, Theodore knew that attempting to upset the status quo was foolhardy, and he had no desire to do so. At most you could change one mind -- you simply had to make certain that was a mind worth changing.
In Theodore’s experience a person was intelligent, but people were unbearably dense. He wasn’t terribly certain where house elves stood in this equation; it wasn’t something he had given a great deal of thought to.
When he had suggested to Dottie that Alexandria required new robes, she had nodded her head and agreed that Alexandria was outgrowing her everyday robes without any further comment. Dottie needed no further prodding to make an appointment at Armani Wizarding in Diagon Alley for Alexandria to have a fitting, which was obviously why she had been picked as a suitable caretaker for the youngest Nott.
That and her ability to follow thinly-veiled orders.
Not that Theodore felt the need to veil his orders when requiring things to be done, but he had heard all about the Dobby/Lucius/Harry Potter fiasco, and he didn't want anything of that sort to occur under his roof.
The pretense of kindness could go a long way, and with Alexandria and Dottie otherwise engaged, the only other impediment to Theodore having Neville over was his father.
Since Those Events At The Ministry, Alexander Nott had spent a great deal of time outside of Nott Terrace, but where exactly his father was spending his mornings and a great deal of his afternoons was not known to Theodore.
It was impertinent to be suspicious of one's father, but that was far better than admitting to being concerned. The carefully vague queries of his Aunt Narcissa, and the more direct questions of his sister, led Theodore to believe that his father was not whiling away his hours in the company of other Death Eaters.
In Theodore’s mind this could only be seen as a good thing, and yet, he was troubled by his father’s lack of appearances within the inner circle. It was one thing to distance oneself from certain activities, but something else entirely to be seen doing so.
Everything Theodore strove to be could be traced back to his father, mother and aunt -- everything he worked to avoid could be found in Draco and Lucius; therefore, Theodore could only trust that his father was making the right decisions.
Not that trust was not a distinguishing Slytherin characteristic, but loyalty was, and it did Theodore no good to fret and agonise over things not within his power.
He couldn’t protect everyone all the time, nor did he wish to – at most he could be discreet and make intelligent choices. He could do his best to keep those he cared for safe, or at the very least make certain that his own choices didn’t endanger them.
Theodore had reasons for wanting Neville’s company without the intrusion of other people: the desire to move about without worrying over who was coming around the corner every five seconds; the ability to wear whatever he chose without using an Obscuro; and a lack of endless pandering required by most of his associates –- but there was also something more primal.
He could pretend that once again he sought Neville’s vast knowledge of Herbology and all things plant-related. He could say he was considering buying Alexandria a toad, or that he sought companionship and conversation. None of these things was completely untrue, except the toad business, but the fact of the matter was that the time Theodore and Neville spent alone together in the library and the greenhouses and various other locations was wreaking havoc on Theodore’s hormones.
Really, it was a matter of sex.
Theodore wanted to have sex with Neville, but he was completely unwilling to do so at school, because that was entirely too crass and common, and who knew who might come barging in like a herd of centaurs and ruin the moment. It was fine to be seen shagging another Slytherin, or even a Ravenclaw, but this was a more delicate matter, and as such it required more finesse.
Naturally they had exchanged hand jobs, and there had been fellatio and all sorts of explorations under robes and shirts and inside trousers, but the vast majority of these exchanges had taken place standing up or in empty classrooms. The fact of the matter was that Theodore wanted Neville naked, and in his bed, and that was not possible at Hogwarts.
It was possible at Nott Terrace, and while such behaviour could have been construed in some quarters as unwise and foolish -- especially in light of that business with his father trying to kill Harry Potter -- on the surface there was nothing questionable about it.
Neville came from a long line of purebloods and fine stock; his parents were well-known casualties of Past Events, and no one could disapprove of Neville on the face of it. Of course there was the matter of families and sides and acquaintances and all that other nonsense that inevitably came up whenever two people who weren’t formally thought to interact came together, but Theodore didn’t have time for all that rubbish.
Besides, he had needs that had to be met.
He was a seventeen year-old Nott, and no one was going to keep him from having sex with his boyfriend, if that was what he wanted. Theodore hadn't announced as much to Neville when he invited him over, but there was no point in dwelling on something so self-evident.
Neville had been nervous enough about accepting Theodore's offer, even though Theodore had assured him that he would look after him. Not that Neville couldn't look after himself -- surely Theodore's father's convalescence had shown that, but there was no need to trouble the issue with unnecessary facts.
Theodore had everyone's best interests at heart, especially his own, and it would do him no good for his father to find Neville Longbottom in their home.
So in preparation of this event, on the correct day and time, Theodore took a long hot bath and dressed himself in his favorite outfit, an artfully faded bottle green shirt and a pair of dark blue-black trousers. In a moment of whimsical fancy, he decided to forgo shoes for bare feet, and after a brief glance in the mirror, he went to make sure the house was rid of its various occupants.
Theodore wasn’t terribly obsessed with his looks, but it wouldn’t do for him to entertain a guest looking less than his best, especially a guest he was planning on separating from his virginity. Not that Neville had ever told Theodore he was a virgin, but the truth was rather obvious whenever they were alone together. Theodore found it rather charming in a somewhat amusing manner; it was a rather common assumption that Gryffindors only had sex for procreative purposes, which apparently was not entirely true.
A quick sweep through Alexandria’s playrooms and his father’s bedroom showed that their primary occupants were indeed out, and Theodore took the stairs down to the first floor somewhat quicker than he normally did. He paused in the foyer for a moment and considered the large portrait of his mother than hung against one wall. There were several occasions when he would look for her and find the painting empty, but on this day Anora Nott sat at her roll-top desk writing, with her favorite owl, Nimue, perched on the edge. Theodore watched her for several seconds as her ivory quill dashed back and forth, and she reached up to push dark locks behind her ear.
“Theodore, where are your socks and shoes?” she asked, after lifting her head and placing her quill back in its inkwell. Shifting in her chair, she rearranged the indigo-coloured robe she wore and fixed her gaze on her son.
Theodore hadn’t even realised she’d noticed his entrance, but his mother had always been very perceptive. His father said it was because she was a direct descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw -- normally he only said this after she caught him attempting to hide something from her.
“I thought I would go without today,” said Theodore, brushing the invisible wrinkles from his attire. It took him a moment to comprehend that he was fidgeting, and when he looked up at her portrait she was smiling.
Her smile was small, but genuine. “Did you now?” she said, propping one arm on the side of her desk and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.
“Yes, Mother.”
Theodore stood as still as possible as his mother gave him a rather appraising once over. Anora Nott had sharp, angular features and long dark hair, which had been inherited by both of her children.
“Indeed, well, do be careful where you step,” she said after several moments.
“I will.”
“I know you will,” was all she said. They looked at each other intently for some time before his mother nodded her head and waved him on his way. “I would love to stay and chat, but I must finish this epistle and then I’m to have tea with your great-aunt Daphne.”
“Great-uncle Reginald’s fourth wife?”
“No, my darling, his second. Anyway, I’m sure you have things you must attend to, so off you go.”
“Yes, Mother.” Theodore gave his mother a sharp nod as he left the foyer and headed towards the kitchen. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he passed by his father’s second study and his mother’s old sitting room, which now served as a schoolroom for Alexandria. The door was slightly ajar, and Theodore nearly stepped on one of her animated ostriches, which had escaped from her zoo menagerie.
He had once tried to explain to Alexandria the mechanics and insanity of The Ostrich Races, but as she had never seen twenty-seven ostriches careening around the countryside, the explanation was a bit lost. Alexandria continued to think all ostriches were adorable and friendly, and she had blackmailed Theodore into promising to take her when the races were held in Prague in the next leap year, which he was not looking forward to at all.
The last Ostrich Races had been held in Milan, and Theodore had attended them in the company of Draco, Blaise, Aunt Narcissa and a wing of the Zabini family that lived locally. Everything had gone smoothly, or as smoothly as things with Draco ever went, until there was an altercation with Draco, three escaped racing Ostriches from Tunisia, and some underfed Muggle women from the local circus, Fashion Week, who were under some illusion that Draco walked a cat.
Blaise had found the whole incident impossibly amusing, but Theodore had been the one forced to restrain Draco to stop him from hexing a piazza full of people.
It was the sort of disaster that always occurred travelling with Draco, and Theodore had to force himself to focus on more pleasant things.
The Nott kitchen was clean and bright and empty. Great bunches of sage and thyme hung from the rafters, and the slate tiles underfoot were rather chilly. There were copper pots drying on the sideboard and the fireplace was only marginally sooty, which meant that Biddy and Pokey had taken Theodore’s request for quail for dinner seriously and were obviously out procuring some at the wizarding bazaar. Considering quail was horribly out of season, the nearest possible bazaar to stock them would probably be somewhere warm, like Algiers. Clearly they would be gone some time, which was exactly what Theodore had hoped for.
Theodore glanced up at the clock on the wall briefly; he loathed waiting, and in exactly six seconds Neville would be one minute late.
The thought was cut off by a crackling in the fireplace and a flash of light.
The smoke was stifling, and Theodore shaded his eyes from the brightness. He heard Neville coughing before he actually saw him, and he stepped forward into the cloud of ash and caught Neville just as he stumbled out of the fireplace.
There was soot on Neville’s cheeks and in his hair, but his eyes were bright with the flurry of Floo travelling and he radiated heat.
Theodore opened his mouth to welcome Neville to Nott Terrace and found himself on the receiving end of a brain-shattering kiss. Neville’s hands gripped Theodore’s biceps and held him fast as his tongue slipped into Theodore’s mouth and wiped his brain of conscious thought.
Neville’s lips were cold and dry, but no-longer chapped, and he tasted of toothpaste and dirt. Theodore was completely blindsided by this aggressive version of Neville Longbottom.
He quite liked it.
His body certainly took notice, and when Neville pulled away, Theodore cleared his throat and adjusted his clothing. He was at a loss for what to say, and Neville coloured when he smiled.
“I missed you,” Neville said.
Theodore smirked and licked his lower lip. “So I gathered,” he said, busying himself with helping Neville unfasten and remove his traveling cloak.
Neville was attempting to tell him something about something or other, but Theodore wasn’t listening since he was much more interested in sniffing Neville’s neck and investigating how Neville’s arse looked in the dark blue jeans he was wearing.
His hands ghosted over Neville’s hips and arse of their own accord, and Theodore only looked up when he noticed Neville was laughing. “You’re not listening to anything I’m saying, are you?”
“Of course I am,” Theodore said taking Neville’s cloak and folding it over his arm.
“Really?” Neville stepped forward, forcing Theodore to step back once, twice, and he started slightly when his back hit the wall. “What did I just say then?”
It took Theodore a moment to collect himself when he realised that Neville was, well, nuzzling his neck. Even though Neville’s nose was cold, the brush of his nose against Theodore’s neck was making it hard for Theodore to concentrate. “You said you thought we should go see my room, which I think is an excellent idea.”
When Neville lifted his head, his brow was furrowed, but then he smiled. “That’s exactly what I said.”
Theodore smirked and slipped away from Neville. “I know.”
The gray marble passageways of Nott Terrace were wide enough for Neville and Theodore to walk side-by-side with ease, but despite the excess of space, their hands continually brushed against each other as they walked through the halls. Neville’s cheeks flushed when he caught Theodore watching him taking everything in.
“I’ll take you on a tour some time if you like,” said Theodore as they passed several windows, which looked out onto the property. “Sometime when the weather is warmer and you can explore the grounds.”
The family Augurey was sitting on a low branch of a Chinese Elm, practising his scales in preparation for what Theodore assumed, would be another torrential downpour.
“I’d like that,” Neville said.
Theodore never hesitated in taking Neville through the foyer instead of using the backstairs, but he was rather disappointed that his mother wasn’t in her painting so introductions could be made. “I had hoped to introduce you to someone,” he said pausing and pointing to his mother’s empty portrait. “But it appears that she’s gone visiting.”
“Maybe next time?” Neville’s sentiment echoed Theodore’s earlier indication that there would be a next time, which made something in Theodore’s chest tighten, but not in a bad way.
Neville opened his mouth as if to say something further, but instead bit his lower lip.
“I think she would like that,” Theodore said.
“It’s a really nice house,” Neville began hesitantly. “Our house isn’t nearly so – it’s just not like this. But I mean that in a good way,” he hurriedly added on the last part.
“Well, I quite like it.” Theodore winked at Neville as he shifted Neville’s cloak from one arm to the other and motioned for Neville to follow him upstairs. “It’s not necessarily the biggest house,” he said. “But it keeps us dry.”
Neville rolled his eyes, and Theodore laughed openly and freely. It was an amazing feeling, and one to which he was becoming accustomed the more time he spent with Neville. Of course it was the sort of thing that was completely un-Slytherin and very un-Nott, which was obviously why, when Theodore was still snickering when they reached the second floor, he woke up the portrait of his Great-Uncle Reginald.
“What on earth is that infernal noise you’re making?” the portrait demanded, and Theodore sighed. The portrait swung back and forth as his uncle shifted in his chair and cleared his throat.
Theodore watched his great-uncle lift his monocle up to his bad eye, become aware of his mistake and then switch it to his good eye. Next to him, Theodore could feel Neville radiating anxiety.
He tamped down on an urge to reach down and squeeze Neville’s hand.
“Hello, Great-Uncle,” Theodore said, shifting the cloak to his left arm. “How are you today?”
“Terrible, my boy, absolutely terrible. I’ve got a toad in my throat, and my wand hand’s swollen from all the rain and cold weather. Your useless Uncle Gerald still hasn’t avenged that slight from 1903, and word’s come down that your Great-Aunt Anastasia will be joining me shortly. You know I never cared for my third wife. Or was she my sixth?”
“I believe she was your sixth,” Theodore said. He shifted closer to Neville slowly, and brought his right hand up to the small of Neville’s lower back. Theodore was pleasantly surprised when Neville didn’t start, but his back went rigid.
“You have to watch out for those women, boy, they’re crafty.” Reginald tapped his nose with his monocle. “I should know -- I married enough of them.”
Theodore rubbed circles on the small of Neville’s back, hoping he would relax, but if anything he seemed to be more on edge. “Great-Uncle, I want you to meet Neville Longbottom.”
Reginald lifted his monocle, and his face grew larger in the portrait as he leaned closer. “What’s that you say, boy?”
“Longbottom, Uncle Reginald.” Theodore whispered into Neville’s ear, “He’s a bit deaf.”
“Longnottom?”
Neville shivered when Theodore’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “And a bit mental.”
Theodore felt an overwhelming urge to do something completely shocking and perhaps squeeze Neville’s arse or drop to his knees and suck Neville off in front of his Great-Uncle, but he thought better of it. He wasn’t terribly fond of sharing.
“Longbottom.” Theodore enunciated clearly while moving back into his own space, and he licked his lips as his uncle studied Neville. Neville’s skin tasted quite good, if not a bit sooty.
“Longbottom, you say? I knew a smashing bloke at school, Vincent Longbottom, married an Emily Van Der Klempt. Titan of a woman you know. First female beater in Ravenclaw. Broke my nose twice.” Reginald seemed delighted, but if it were at all possible Neville grew more nervous.
“That’s - that’s my grandmother,” he said.
“Is it really?” Reginald said. “Oh, you poor boy, and how is your nose these days?”
Neville let out a tiny chuckle. “It’s fine. It’s only been broken once.”
“Yes, I’m not surprised. You know, your grandmother was quite a looker back in her day. She used to go around with --”
“I’m sure Neville would love to hear your stories, Great-Uncle,” Theodore interrupted. “But we wouldn’t want to keep you from preparing for Great-Aunt Anastasia’s arrival.”
“Oh, Merlin’s goolies,” Reginald said. “Yes, I suppose I’d best be getting on then.”
Neville and Theodore watched as Reginald tottered to his feet and produced a snub-nosed cane from up his sleeve. “Send my regards to your grandmother, Nathaniel, and protect your nose!”
Theodore covered his mouth with Neville’s cloak to hide his smirk, and waited until his great-uncle had hobbled out of his portrait to say anything further. “It looks as though you’re a hit with the family.”
Neville shook his head and stepped away from Theodore’s hand. “I can’t believe you were molesting me while we were talking to your dead great-uncle.”
“No, if I’d actually fondled your arse as I’d been thinking of doing -- that would have been molestation. In this matter, I was simply attempting to relieve your tension.”
Neville looked horrified for a moment. “You wouldn’t have dared.”
“I wouldn’t have?” Theodore narrowed his eyes and stepped into Neville’s personal space. “Are you so certain of that?”
“I was tense because -- because of you!” Neville blurted out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Theodore couldn’t help but look where his hands were, and no wonder Neville had seemed so tense.
Theodore would’ve been tense talking to someone’s family with an erection himself.
“Would you like some help with your problem?” he said, running the palm of his right hand over the bulge in Neville’s jeans.
Neville opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Theodore said, squeezing Neville through the fabric.
Theodore wasn’t a great proponent of convoluted seduction techniques. Slytherins on a whole leaned more towards the ‘if you want something, you should take it’ school of thought; and while that was all well and good in most situations, especially those involving his fellow Slytherins, Theodore’s technique seemed to be lacking somewhat when it came to seducing Neville –- or at the very least getting him in Theodore’s bed.
They were a veritable grope-fest at Hogwarts, and Theodore had just accosted Neville in the hall, but now that Neville was in Theodore’s bedroom, Theodore was sitting at his desk as though he had no idea what was supposed to come next. Draco would have said something about his own preternatural good-looks; Blaise would have said something witty; Theodore could only be himself.
“Do you like the art?” he asked, getting to his feet and crossing to the bay window where Neville was looking at various pastels. The paleness of Neville’s skin was a great distraction from the blue walls of Theodore’s room, and he narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on the pages in Neville’s hands.
Theodore had had involved dreams about Neville’s hands.
“They’re lovely renderings.” Neville didn’t look up as Theodore situated himself at Neville’s elbow, but he did seem to lean into Theodore’s space when Theodore pointed at one of his favourites. “You said they were done by your sister?”
Neville’s eyes were bright in the afternoon sun and Theodore nodded. “Alexandria is the talented one in the family.” His lips brushed Neville’s ear as he spoke, and he could see Neville shudder.
“I don’t know if she’s the only talented one.” Neville’s voice was husky, and Notts didn’t do modesty well, but Theodore could feel the heat colouring his cheeks.
“Will I get to meet her one day?”
Neville’s tone this time was teasing, and yet it seemed as though he was being earnest. Notts didn’t do confusion either, so Theodore would hear what he wanted to hear. “I think we’d both like that.”
Theodore took the etchings out of Neville’s hand and dropped them lightly on the window seat. “I was looking at those,” Neville protested good-naturedly as Theodore leaned in and pecked him on the mouth.
“They’re not going anywhere,” Theodore said, crowding Neville towards the large bed in the centre of the room. “You can look at them later.”
Neville clearly wasn’t expecting it when he backed into Theodore’s bed, and he grabbed at Theodore before falling backwards and taking Theodore with him.
The wind was knocked out of Theodore’s lungs for several moments, and he shook his head and smirked -- he’d managed to get Neville exactly where he wanted him.
“That worked out quite well,” he said, tugging on Neville’s hips to urge him further onto the bed. They were stretched out parallel to the headboard and pillows; their legs tangled over the side of the bed. Theodore couldn’t be bothered to correct their situation. “I didn’t even have to resort to any nefarious planning – which on second thought isn’t quite right at all. This is all very unbecoming for a Slytherin, you know,” he said running his hands up Neville’s chest and pushing himself up.
Neville chuckled as Theodore knelt on either side of Neville’s thighs. “Is it, really?” asked Neville. “And what else is behaviour unbecoming a Slytherin?”
Theodore leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Neville’s forehead and another on his nose. “This is… and this is --”
“And this absolutely is,” he announced before leaning forward and kissing Neville heatedly. Neville’s lips parted easily under Theodore’s, and whereas once they’d had problems with coordination, now they fit fluidly.
His tongue slipped between Theodore’s lips, and Theodore could taste the soot from where he’d kissed Neville’s face and then kissed Neville.
Theodore felt Neville’s smile against his mouth, and he couldn’t muster a frown of his own as his hands scrambled to push Neville’s white shirt up under his arms. His plans were nullified when Neville’s arms came around his waist, and when he inched forward he noticed he was sitting rather firmly on Neville’s erection.
Theodore ground downward experimentally and was rewarded with a groan from Neville and a glorious rush of heat from his own groin. Neville gave his lower lip a sharp nip when Theodore began rocking his hips back and forth in tiny motions.
The friction against his cock and his arse were amazing, and if this was how it felt fully clothed, they obviously needed to take off their clothing -- but that required stopping, and Theodore wasn’t terribly interested in that.
He let a small groan escape when Neville’s hands gripped his waist, and Neville began thrusting upwards with considerable strength.
This wasn’t quite how Theodore had envisioned passing the afternoon, at the very least there should have been more skin exposed, but he was busy pulling Neville's hair and couldn’t think clearly.
The bedsprings began to creak, and Theodore panted against Neville’s mouth and throat. He propped himself up with a death-grip on the duvet, but the blue silk was slippery and made it difficult. Sweat formed underneath his clothes, and his trousers grew damp from the friction on his confined cock.
Neville’s hands slipped, or moved, and one moment they were on his hips and the next they were groping his arse. Theodore could practically feel Neville’s fingerprints through the thin wool-blend of his trousers, and Neville’s grip was going to leave marks.
Theodore’s orgasm hit him like a hex and rolled through his body leaving him confused and stupid. Neville held him firmly for a few more thrusts before coming himself, and Theodore panted against Neville’s neck for several long moments before levering himself off of Neville’s body.
Theodore rolled over onto his back, and stroked his chest a few times to make sure he was still breathing.
He’d had sex often enough, and yet he couldn’t recall his orgasm ever being so intense. Every nerve in his body was alight, and he could feel the soft knit of his shirt underneath the flat of his hand. He looked over at Neville when he chuckled lightly and then tugged at the sleeve of Neville’s shirt to bring him closer.
“I never took you for a cuddler,” Neville said even as he entwined his arms and legs with Theodore’s and rested his head on Theodore’s chest.
“This isn’t cuddling,” Theodore said, even as he stroked Neville’s hair. “This is conservation of body heat… It’s also a bit uncomfortable,” he said after several moments, propping himself up and tugging at his trousers.
“I could sort that out,” Neville said.
“Please do.”
“Right,” Neville said sitting up. “I just -- do you hear something?”
“Apart from the pounding in my head? No,” said Theodore.
“That would be all the blood rushing back to where it stays normally,” Neville teased. “I do I think someone’s calling you though, Theodore.”
“Not possible. No one’s home.”
And then Theodore heard someone calling his name.
He would know that voice anywhere.
“Bugger,” he said, levering himself up and over Neville rather quickly. Grabbing his wand from the cupboard, Theodore cast a quick Scourgify on his clothing, and tried to compose himself. Now was not the time for this.
He glanced up at Neville’s bemused expression and cast a quick Scourgify on him as well. “Do not move,” Theodore said. “I won’t be more than five minutes.”
Neville looked at the clean, but rumpled state of his clothing. “Five minutes?”
Theodore’s breath caught at the sight of Neville pawing at his own shirt absently. “Three minutes,” he corrected. “One-hundred and eighty seconds. I promise. You can even count.”
“One, two, three…”
Theodore closed the door on four.
Neville didn’t count in increments in French -- thank Mordred.
TBC in The Coast is Never Clear (II of II)
