Albus Severus Potter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
honourbyname) wrote2014-06-29 02:06 pm
honourbyname) wrote2014-06-29 02:06 pm
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[OOM] Hogwarts Dorm Rooms
It's a peaceful Sunday mid-morning and the dormitories are nearly empty, save for one Albus Potter sitting up in his bed, doing something so incredibly predictable for a Ravenclaw student, it's almost downright cliche.
He's reading a book.
Oh, yes.
Most of his clothing is strewn about on the floor, and his other belongings - books stacked in piles of two - are perched precariously on the edge of his night-table. Albus has never been known to be particularly neat with his belongings but it could be worse.
(At least all of said clothing is clean, for example.)
He's flipping through pages, occasionally jotting down a note in the parchment beside him.
He's reading a book.
Oh, yes.
Most of his clothing is strewn about on the floor, and his other belongings - books stacked in piles of two - are perched precariously on the edge of his night-table. Albus has never been known to be particularly neat with his belongings but it could be worse.
(At least all of said clothing is clean, for example.)
He's flipping through pages, occasionally jotting down a note in the parchment beside him.
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It belongs to fellow Ravenclaw and Albus' boyfriend, Scorpius Malfoy. Who, newly returned from his morning jog, breaks the peace of the mid-morning, being his usual energetic self.
He's shrugging out of his dirty things, dropping the offending items here and there, while searching for new and clean, and -
" - Thinking I'd have to check for cobwebs, but you've moved an inch or two. What're you on now?"
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"Funny," he says, flipping to the next page and placing a scrap piece of parchment in between as a sort of bookmark. Then he shuts the book closed and allows his eyes to follow Scorpius around the room. Never mind that he's ... only half-decent.
"I've been doing a bit of prep-work for Potions on Monday, that's all."
He sits up straighter.
"How was your run?"
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(After a quick glance at the shut door to ensure privacy, that is.)
"Fine. Good weather for it," he says, pulling the Potions book close and opening it to the marked spot. He makes a nearly identical scrunched-nose face as he glances over the text.
"Right, so - New appreciation for Potions aside, this is not how you should spend a Sunday morning."
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Yes.
He rolls his eyes affectionately.
"All right. So - um. What do you suggest, then?"
In other words, what could be more important than studying in preparation for what will undoubtedly be a huge Potions assignment to come on Monday?
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Because with all the studying he's been doing to keep up with Albus, Scorpius has found that he can, at the very least, tolerate the subject now.
(A vast improvement from the past, truly.)
"And I know you want to be prepared, but - It's the weekend.
"I suggest taking the rest of the morning off."
He worries at his bottom lip, looking at Albus with those grey eyes of his. He's promised that he wouldn't keep Albus from his classes, and he's certainly kept to his promise, but it is the weekend.
"Just the morning?"
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Which, all right, could stand to do with a bit of loosening up from time to time. He might take the whole Ravenclaw thing a little too far.
Albus returns Scorpius' look, considering, and then he smiles.
"Yeah," he agrees. "All right. Just the morning." There's a pause before he adds, "And maybe a bit of the afternoon too."
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Which is mostly a distraction to take the book from Albus again and re-add it to the precariously stacked stack on the bedside table.
Out of sight and out of mind.
He then sits back with a far more satisfied grin, wetting his lips.
"Want to stay in?" he asks, with the innocence of a seventeen year old not thinking about the bed, an empty dorm, and lots of handsy snogging.
(Well. Maybe he's thinking about it a little.
Or, a lot. But - )
"Or, uhm - We could head outside? If you want."
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"We could stay in," he agrees, taking Scorpius' hand in his and twining their fingers together. "Especially since it's rare that the dorms are so empty."
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"Right, don't know how that happened."
Truly rare as it is, and who knows how long it will last!
"So, uhm - Should I be thinking naughty things or finding a deck for a game of Exploding Snap?"
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Albus' eyes, the same brilliant green ones his dad and his grandmum have, flick back up towards the door, just to make sure it's firmly closed.
And then he glances back in Scorpius' direction.
"Mm. Naughty first, and then we'll look for the deck," he says, sitting up on his knees. Albus leans in and kisses him, letting go of his hand to clutch at the hem of his shirt. He doesn't make any move to do anything further than that, as they've never done anything more yet.
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Naughty. First.
Uhm.Yes?Please?
He only pauses when he feels the slight tug at the hem of his shirt.
"Al?"
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Maybe it's the fact that their dorm rooms are rarely ever this empty. Or maybe it's the fact that Scorpius looks so - brilliant, after his run: flushed and warm, and smelling so much like him.
Whatever the reason might be, he allows himself to get caught up in the moment, and he's a little distracted when he responds.
"Hm?"
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Scorpius is feeling bold enough to ask, heart pounding and blood racing, more than a little caught up in the moment himself.
This is his adorably shy but equally bold boyfriend, who sought him out after half-a-summer apart and initiated their first kiss, and so he is certainly not thinking about stopping.
Not yet, anyway.
Not until Al or him are feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the direction.
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He glances down at his fingers, still gripping at Scorpius' shirt like it might be a lifeline.
And then he nods, small but firm.
Here, Scorp. He'll even help you.
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Now -
"You too," Scorp murmurs, pulling at his boyfriend's clothes.
Which need to come off. Right now, or ten seconds ago.
Mutual disrobing is only fair, after all.
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It is only fair.
Even if Albus is half-fighting against his incredible shyness at the idea that Scorpius would see him even remotely undressed.
(Which is silly, considering this sort of situation sort of calls for that level of intimacy.)
He starts unbuttoning his shirt, fingers trembling ever so slightly at each button.
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Which is, if anything like the butterflies that are fluttering about in his own stomach, from nerves, he totally understands.
He distracts Albus from those silly thoughts by kissing him, and helping him with the last of the buttons.
And with the pushing of the shirt off the shoulders.
And -
"Alright?" he asks, only after the shirt has been added to the pile on the floor.
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His reply is sure, much surer than his fingers had been, and while his skin suddenly feels cold from the sudden loss of shirt, Scorpius' mouth on his warms him immediately.
It's instinct more than anything that gives him the confidence to do this.
His hands immediately set to exploring Scorpius' skin, shifting the focus of his mouth from Scorpius' lips to his neck, and then a shoulder, one hand moving to press itself against the pounding beat of his heart, echoing like Albus' own.
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"Okay."
He worries at his bottom lip, if only in restraint, and oh-so-carefully follows the curve of Albus' collarbone with his fingers.
Down then, across his chest, and lower still to skim the waist of trousers. But there he stops, paused.
"Maybe we should, uhm - Lie down?"
(It'd be more comfortable. Or something.)
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Scorpius is right, of course.
And these sorts of things - whatever they're trying to do, or however far they're willing to go - are probably done better when more comfortable.
Not that Albus isn't feeling surprisingly okay about everything though. Good, even.
He kisses Scorpius again, leaning back against the crushed sheets and his half-squashed pillow and drawing the other boy with him.
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Being the adventurous sort and all.
He breaks the kiss - with some reluctance, being that they were having a very good snog - to turn his attentions elsewhere.
Like to the same path his fingers had taken moments before.
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If Albus hadn't been completely distracted by Scorpius (so that the world around them could cease to exist and he wouldn't even notice) before, well he certainly is now.
Everything is getting hotter, the pounding in his chest is getting louder, and the blood pumping in his ears is nearly deafening - save for the sound of their breathing, and lips being pressed against skin, hands skimming strong curves and tense muscle.
He is only vaguely aware that Scorpius' hand is reaching lower than it ever has, and Albus is both excited and a little scared of what he knows is going to come next.
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Not that such thoughts are enough to stop him.
One glance at Al, so undone as he is and all from his doing, and Scorpius is feeling particularly pleased with himself.
Sitting back, lower lip caught between his teeth, his fingers tremble, much like Al's had before, as he reaches for the trousers and then there's nothing to do but act.
(He'll worry about any critiques on technique later.)
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Everything is so - it's all skin and lips and fingers, here, then there, then there. Everywhere.
He closes his eyes and feels like he's drowning in happiness itself, to be so close to Scorpius, to share this with him. Even if it's not yet mutual.
Not yet.
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(Adventurous, remember? And - why not.)
With some awkwardness and certainly not very graceful-like, being the first time and all, but - brilliant.
Scorpius has forgotten his worries and he'll accept whatever critique because it is just so - and Albus is - and he's grinning, after.
"Still with me?" he asks, when he clambers forward to kiss his ridiculously gorgeous boyfriend on the nose, cheek and chin, and everywhere.
"You'd better not be thinking about Potions."
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He feels spent and relaxed, more relaxed than he's ever been. Is this what it feels like? The pain mingled with the pleasure, and then suddenly he's aware of e v e r y thing.
"Who could think of Potions after that?" he asks, voice quiet, almost shy.
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What they've just done.
"I don't think it makes the memoirs, though."
He curls up beside Albus, sharing his pillow, and touching. He can't stop touching his boyfriend. Kisses here, and there. And hands everywhere.
"Unless it's a biography written by Rita Skeeter, maybe? I haven't read any of her works."
He realizes he's rambling now. It's just - And he's just - And what they did.
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Because ... yeah. After what they've done, which he's never ever done before, or ever even thought they'd be doing this morning, it's actually a bit exhausting.
"Maybe," he allows. "I've read plenty of Rita Skeeter. It's hard not to when your dad -"
There's a one-shouldered shrug but he doesn't finish the sentence. Scorpius knows about his dad. He knows how Rita Skeeter has pretty much made it her life's mission to go after him for ages.
"Mm. Scorp? Um. How do you feel?"
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And not who Scorpius wants to be thinking about right now, anyway. So.
"Uhm."
How does he feel? Besides brilliant, if a little flabbergasted as to how the morning took its turn. (He did not plan this. Handsy snogging, yes. That, no.)
"Honestly? Like I could go another round or two," he says with a laugh.
He glances at Albus, taking stock of his (sleepy-eyed) boyfriend - and, okay, getting another eyeful, too. It's just - yeah.
"Are you - ?" He sits up, propping himself on an elbow. "I mean - How do you feel?"
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He smiles and lets it sort of linger on his face.
Yeah, lets not talk or think about Albus' dad for a little bit. Talk about a moment-killer. (Sorry, dad.)
He traces the line of Scorpius' jaw with a finger, the motion entirely fond.
"We could go again. If you want. Before the morning's over."
... and everyone gets back.
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That smile.
His heart is skipping all over the place.
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He feels like he'd run a marathon, but that's just Scorpius' effect on him.
It's strange. Brilliant. He's honestly never felt anything like this before.
So ... yeah. Another round couldn't be a better idea.