(no subject)
title: What's the use of morals, anyway?
rating: nc17
wordcount: 1649
prompts used: lyrics from queen, godric's hallow
summary: Albus has morally reprehensible friends.
author's note: this is two of four sequels, this one is a Ravenclaw Albus. the first one is here Beo
A few hours after the incident with Scorpius, Seamus is shouting last call. For the patrons that can't hear him large gold snowflakes shoot from his wand and rain from the ceiling, only to disappear once they hit the floor. Aaron and William are long gone home with their girls of the night, but Owen is still there. Which is good, seeing as they share a flooless flat and Albus has failed his apparation licence 4 times. If Owen hadn't stuck around he'd have to walk, which he's not entirely capable of right now.
"Ready to go?" Owen asks, mindlessly scratching his red cap tattoo. He's had it for almost a year, there's no way it should still be itchy, and yet Owen's always scratching it.
"Yeah, sure." After all, the bar is emptying with each passing second, Seamus has already started to mop the floor. He doesn't need to buy his last drink, he's already fairly tanked. Owen's arms close around him and he presses his face into Owen's chest as they apparate, he's only about two feet shorter than the man.
When he feels his feet steady on the floor he lets go of his friend and takes a few steps back. And Owen's gotten the address wrong. It seems impossible, Owen's criminal older brother taught his younger sibling how to apparate illegally when Owen was eleven. Owen's the best long distance traveller Albus knows, and Beo is only a dozen blocks from their flat, there's no way he could have gotten the coordinates wrong.
At least not on purpose, Albus' mind feeds him. It's a quick conclusion to jump to, but Ravenclaws have quick minds. "Okay, where are we?"
This room is a combination of classy and completely trashed. With the expensive object d'art lining bookshelves with no books on them it's clear the individual has a lot of money, or is very skilled at transfiguring replicas. But there are clothes and blankets and plates and song-balls scattered all over the floor and table. Albus has never seen so much clothing in his life, not even the summer that the aunts and uncles had the idea to go camping and there were seven girls sleeping in one tent.
"34 Godric Hallow."
"That doesn't really answer my question and you know it. I meant, who's house are we in?"
Owen answers him with another question, "What's my brother's famous phrase?"
"Never back down? Not that it served him well, he's in Azkaban now. And what does that have to do with-" Albus trails off as the owner of the room walks in.
It's Scorpius Malfoy, and Albus can't remember ever being so pissed off in his life. "Owen, I am going to kick your arse!"
"Why are you so mad? Your friend is just trying to help you get laid. Maybe he knows something I don't? Maybe you're still a virgin, and it's worrying him?"
"I am not going to dignify that with a response!"
"Which means yes," Scorpius replies drolly. "And now that you can't run away and hide in a loo, what do you say? Would you like to have sex with me? From what I've heard, you rather do."
"Owen, so help me God, I am going to-" a thought occurs to him, "how did you know this address? Have you had sex with Scorpius?"
"No. Well, not really. It was a threesome, but we were more interested in the girl than each other."
"So you're not even gay? Why the hell are you offering then?" None of this makes any sense, he's not sober enough to figure it out, not drunk enough to not care about reasons.
"Well, I'm not straight either. You're cute, your friend made a convincing argument for you whilst you were locked in the loo, and well, it's not like I brought anyone else home."
"So I'm just a one night stand?" Albus doesn't know why he's getting so upset about this, just knows he's not impressed with the way this evening has gone at all.
"Two seconds ago you didn't even want to have sex at all! Jesus, lighten up Al." He's never been so close to brawling with someone in his life, but there's just something about Owen that grates on people's nerves, even his best friends'.
"What do you want me to say? I'd like for you and I to go romancing? Or maybe you're more into kink? want me on my knees, your wish is my command?"
"Good lord, you are the worst seducer ever!"
"The question you have to ask yourself is does that matter? Do you care if he's a good talker, or can you just decide that coming against warm flesh is better then in your own hand?" his ex-best mate has a comment for everything, and it's driving Albus up the wall.
"Who are you, my conscious? Why the fuck are you still here?"
"Because you'll need a way to get home." Owen says, as if it's obvious.
"Get the fuck out. Right now." Owen hesitates. "Right now, or I'll fucking deck you one."
So Owen apparates, and Albus is left alone. He stares at the massive piles of clothing rather than look Scorpius in the eye. "We don't have to fuck, if you're not comfortable with it. Your friend just thought you needed a shove into the real world, but I'm not the sort to rape, so we can listen to some foreign Quidditch programme, if you can't."
"Can I just look at your tattoo for a moment?"
It doesn't surprise him when Scorpius strips nude instead of just taking his shirt off. After all, this is a means to an end for the man. But when Albus looks at the artwork covering his back he's not sure he minds. Scorpius is not only sexy, he's also obviously got the rare confidence it takes for a bloke to get tattoos of lace winged fairies.
Almost without thinking he reaches out and traces the leaf one of them is sitting on. It doesn't move, it must not be a wizard-tattoo. And from there it's a mere inch to the delicious bumps of Scorpius' spine. When he traces the length of it with a fingernail Scorpius shivers but doesn't move away.
"You've slept with a lot of people," he murmurs into Scorpius' neck as he presses his body against the blonde's back. It's not a question, he knows it's true.
"That doesn't mean you won't be special."
Albus wants to laugh for how ridiculous the words are, but he thinks he's past caring. It doesn't matter how pathetic Scorpius' seduction is. The bottom line is Albus wants to be seduced, so naturally it'll work. He's smart enough to know that, at least. So he stands still as Scorpius turns around and deftly unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor. It settles among all clothing, and for a brief moment Albus wonders if those are his trophies, if none of articles are actually his. He decides he doesn't care, that Scorpius wants him tonight and that's what really matters.
"I think we should-" He doesn't finish his sentence, only pushes against Albus' chest so he finds himself walking backwards. They stop when Albus hits the wall, at least Albus stops, Scorpius continues moving his hips. It's so fucking hot, he can feel Scorpius' pelvis pushing against him, Scorpius has both their cocks in his somehow wet hand -when did he do that?- but Albus hardly cares for that sensation because he's got his arms around the blonde's body and his fingers are dancing up the vertebrae of his spine.
He tilts his head and they snog, the cartilage of Scorpius' nose pressing into his cheek. Scorpius tastes like muggle rum, spiced and burning his tongue, it makes Albus struggle to remember the last drink he had, what he must taste like to Scorpius. Unless the man is so drunk that he can only taste himself. Either way Albus doesn't really care.
He quickly moves from the blonde's lips to his collarbone. He wants to make a hickey to prove Scorpius is his, even if just for the night. The skin is so pale and thin Albus feels like if he's not careful he can bite right through it. He's not sure if that's horrible or arousing, the idea of permanently scarring Scorpius.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Scorpius asks eventually.
"Why not?" Albus laughs. It's not the best of responses, but he's given up on morality, on trying to convince himself that Scorpius actually cares. They might as well have fun, because that's all Albus will ever have with him.
Scorpius lets go of them and takes a step back. Albus' cock bounces as he steps to nearest pile of clothing and lies on the floor. The couch is mere feet away, and surely the bedroom is one of the three closed doors, but he can't bother. Scorpius rearranges his limbs so his hands are near the coffee table legs, and his own legs are drawn up to his stomach. He plumps a bunch of pairs of jeans right under Albus' arse so it's angled up. Just as Albus feels like nothing more then a poseable doll Scorpius waves his wand and thrusts inside him, and no doll has ever felt this whole.
When he's coming, one hand curled around the peg of mahogany, the other cupping Scorpius' shoulder blade, he realises that it's worth it. There's no sense in morality, or wanting someone to like you, all that matters is the moment of sweet release. Scorpius feels like heaven inside him, his cock is spilling not semen but liquid euphoria, and he foresees a nice future of one night stands. Thanks to Owen and a nicely knobbed spine he's turned into William and Aaron, and he doesn't care.
rating: nc17
wordcount: 1649
prompts used: lyrics from queen, godric's hallow
summary: Albus has morally reprehensible friends.
author's note: this is two of four sequels, this one is a Ravenclaw Albus. the first one is here Beo
A few hours after the incident with Scorpius, Seamus is shouting last call. For the patrons that can't hear him large gold snowflakes shoot from his wand and rain from the ceiling, only to disappear once they hit the floor. Aaron and William are long gone home with their girls of the night, but Owen is still there. Which is good, seeing as they share a flooless flat and Albus has failed his apparation licence 4 times. If Owen hadn't stuck around he'd have to walk, which he's not entirely capable of right now.
"Ready to go?" Owen asks, mindlessly scratching his red cap tattoo. He's had it for almost a year, there's no way it should still be itchy, and yet Owen's always scratching it.
"Yeah, sure." After all, the bar is emptying with each passing second, Seamus has already started to mop the floor. He doesn't need to buy his last drink, he's already fairly tanked. Owen's arms close around him and he presses his face into Owen's chest as they apparate, he's only about two feet shorter than the man.
When he feels his feet steady on the floor he lets go of his friend and takes a few steps back. And Owen's gotten the address wrong. It seems impossible, Owen's criminal older brother taught his younger sibling how to apparate illegally when Owen was eleven. Owen's the best long distance traveller Albus knows, and Beo is only a dozen blocks from their flat, there's no way he could have gotten the coordinates wrong.
At least not on purpose, Albus' mind feeds him. It's a quick conclusion to jump to, but Ravenclaws have quick minds. "Okay, where are we?"
This room is a combination of classy and completely trashed. With the expensive object d'art lining bookshelves with no books on them it's clear the individual has a lot of money, or is very skilled at transfiguring replicas. But there are clothes and blankets and plates and song-balls scattered all over the floor and table. Albus has never seen so much clothing in his life, not even the summer that the aunts and uncles had the idea to go camping and there were seven girls sleeping in one tent.
"34 Godric Hallow."
"That doesn't really answer my question and you know it. I meant, who's house are we in?"
Owen answers him with another question, "What's my brother's famous phrase?"
"Never back down? Not that it served him well, he's in Azkaban now. And what does that have to do with-" Albus trails off as the owner of the room walks in.
It's Scorpius Malfoy, and Albus can't remember ever being so pissed off in his life. "Owen, I am going to kick your arse!"
"Why are you so mad? Your friend is just trying to help you get laid. Maybe he knows something I don't? Maybe you're still a virgin, and it's worrying him?"
"I am not going to dignify that with a response!"
"Which means yes," Scorpius replies drolly. "And now that you can't run away and hide in a loo, what do you say? Would you like to have sex with me? From what I've heard, you rather do."
"Owen, so help me God, I am going to-" a thought occurs to him, "how did you know this address? Have you had sex with Scorpius?"
"No. Well, not really. It was a threesome, but we were more interested in the girl than each other."
"So you're not even gay? Why the hell are you offering then?" None of this makes any sense, he's not sober enough to figure it out, not drunk enough to not care about reasons.
"Well, I'm not straight either. You're cute, your friend made a convincing argument for you whilst you were locked in the loo, and well, it's not like I brought anyone else home."
"So I'm just a one night stand?" Albus doesn't know why he's getting so upset about this, just knows he's not impressed with the way this evening has gone at all.
"Two seconds ago you didn't even want to have sex at all! Jesus, lighten up Al." He's never been so close to brawling with someone in his life, but there's just something about Owen that grates on people's nerves, even his best friends'.
"What do you want me to say? I'd like for you and I to go romancing? Or maybe you're more into kink? want me on my knees, your wish is my command?"
"Good lord, you are the worst seducer ever!"
"The question you have to ask yourself is does that matter? Do you care if he's a good talker, or can you just decide that coming against warm flesh is better then in your own hand?" his ex-best mate has a comment for everything, and it's driving Albus up the wall.
"Who are you, my conscious? Why the fuck are you still here?"
"Because you'll need a way to get home." Owen says, as if it's obvious.
"Get the fuck out. Right now." Owen hesitates. "Right now, or I'll fucking deck you one."
So Owen apparates, and Albus is left alone. He stares at the massive piles of clothing rather than look Scorpius in the eye. "We don't have to fuck, if you're not comfortable with it. Your friend just thought you needed a shove into the real world, but I'm not the sort to rape, so we can listen to some foreign Quidditch programme, if you can't."
"Can I just look at your tattoo for a moment?"
It doesn't surprise him when Scorpius strips nude instead of just taking his shirt off. After all, this is a means to an end for the man. But when Albus looks at the artwork covering his back he's not sure he minds. Scorpius is not only sexy, he's also obviously got the rare confidence it takes for a bloke to get tattoos of lace winged fairies.
Almost without thinking he reaches out and traces the leaf one of them is sitting on. It doesn't move, it must not be a wizard-tattoo. And from there it's a mere inch to the delicious bumps of Scorpius' spine. When he traces the length of it with a fingernail Scorpius shivers but doesn't move away.
"You've slept with a lot of people," he murmurs into Scorpius' neck as he presses his body against the blonde's back. It's not a question, he knows it's true.
"That doesn't mean you won't be special."
Albus wants to laugh for how ridiculous the words are, but he thinks he's past caring. It doesn't matter how pathetic Scorpius' seduction is. The bottom line is Albus wants to be seduced, so naturally it'll work. He's smart enough to know that, at least. So he stands still as Scorpius turns around and deftly unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor. It settles among all clothing, and for a brief moment Albus wonders if those are his trophies, if none of articles are actually his. He decides he doesn't care, that Scorpius wants him tonight and that's what really matters.
"I think we should-" He doesn't finish his sentence, only pushes against Albus' chest so he finds himself walking backwards. They stop when Albus hits the wall, at least Albus stops, Scorpius continues moving his hips. It's so fucking hot, he can feel Scorpius' pelvis pushing against him, Scorpius has both their cocks in his somehow wet hand -when did he do that?- but Albus hardly cares for that sensation because he's got his arms around the blonde's body and his fingers are dancing up the vertebrae of his spine.
He tilts his head and they snog, the cartilage of Scorpius' nose pressing into his cheek. Scorpius tastes like muggle rum, spiced and burning his tongue, it makes Albus struggle to remember the last drink he had, what he must taste like to Scorpius. Unless the man is so drunk that he can only taste himself. Either way Albus doesn't really care.
He quickly moves from the blonde's lips to his collarbone. He wants to make a hickey to prove Scorpius is his, even if just for the night. The skin is so pale and thin Albus feels like if he's not careful he can bite right through it. He's not sure if that's horrible or arousing, the idea of permanently scarring Scorpius.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Scorpius asks eventually.
"Why not?" Albus laughs. It's not the best of responses, but he's given up on morality, on trying to convince himself that Scorpius actually cares. They might as well have fun, because that's all Albus will ever have with him.
Scorpius lets go of them and takes a step back. Albus' cock bounces as he steps to nearest pile of clothing and lies on the floor. The couch is mere feet away, and surely the bedroom is one of the three closed doors, but he can't bother. Scorpius rearranges his limbs so his hands are near the coffee table legs, and his own legs are drawn up to his stomach. He plumps a bunch of pairs of jeans right under Albus' arse so it's angled up. Just as Albus feels like nothing more then a poseable doll Scorpius waves his wand and thrusts inside him, and no doll has ever felt this whole.
When he's coming, one hand curled around the peg of mahogany, the other cupping Scorpius' shoulder blade, he realises that it's worth it. There's no sense in morality, or wanting someone to like you, all that matters is the moment of sweet release. Scorpius feels like heaven inside him, his cock is spilling not semen but liquid euphoria, and he foresees a nice future of one night stands. Thanks to Owen and a nicely knobbed spine he's turned into William and Aaron, and he doesn't care.