Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: kabal42From: coffee_n_cocoaTitle:
bondage, leather (sort of)Other Warnings/Content:
plant pornWord Count:
It was difficult to imagine such an affable bloke as being so, well, kinky
, if Charlie hadn’t witnessed it firsthand. Author's Notes:
I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Happy holidays to you!Mermaid’s Suede
“You’ll inform me if there are any difficulties settling in,” the headmistress said, hands flat against the desk.
“I’m sure the accommodations will be more than adequate,” Charlie assured her. “I’m not nearly as large as Hagrid, so I imagine the place will feel almost spacious. Besides, I adapt easily. Very little surprises me any more.”
Headmistress McGonagall nodded. “Very well, then. I must thank you again for accepting the position on such notice while Rubeus enjoys his sabbatical. Qualified experts in magical creatures are distressingly rare, qualified instructors even more so. I hope you will enjoy the coming year...Professor Weasley.”
Charlie chuckled, rising from his chair when McGonagall did. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” he admitted wryly. “I never really saw myself as the academic sort, despite my good marks in school. I hope I live up to expectation.”
“I’ve every confidence you will,” McGonagall said briskly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few other matters to see to, so I’ll leave you to the business of moving your things to the groundskeeper’s hut. The house elves serve meals to the remaining staff in the Great Hall every day, or if you wish you can cook your own or enjoy a bite at The Three Broomsticks, if that’s what you prefer.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
There wasn’t much to move, truth be told, Charlie thought to himself as he made his way out of the castle. He’d always packed light, and if he needed anything, Hogsmeade wasn’t far away. Besides, Hogwarts was a quiet place with the students gone on summer holiday; he figured he wouldn’t need to purchase his professor’s robes just yet.
His pace slowed as he walked past the greenhouses, peering through the glass and the thriving greenery within, alive with verdant fronds and brightly coloured blooms. Herbology had been one of his favourite classes whilst in school, second only to Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Sprout had retired several years earlier, but he seemed to recall one of Ginny’s friends had taken her place. It would be nice having a colleague relatively close in age, compared to the other, much older professors he’d be working with.
The door to the last greenhouse was slightly ajar. Charlie paused in mid-stride and turned, pushing the door open and letting himself inside. Perhaps Ginny’s professor friend would be amenable to a friendly getting-acquainted pint of ale in the hut, if he wasn’t too busy with his plants. Summer was a busy time for herbologists, he figured, what with weeding and feeding and mulching and deadheading and all the other numerous little tasks necessary to keep plants healthy and vibrant.
Charlie started down one of the centre aisles, looking for a second door or perhaps an interior office tucked into one corner. Maybe no one was here, and the greenhouse door had been left open accidentally, or perhaps Neville had only thought
he’d closed the door when he last left, and it had been pushed ajar by a particularly strong breeze.
A flash of movement from the corner of his eye let Charlie know he wasn’t alone. He turned toward the source of motion, but the words of greeting on his lips died when he saw the cause. His jaw dropped, incredulous. Ducking behind a large pot of ferns, Charlie peered through the fronds in an attempt to see more despite his better judgment and the knowledge the ferns made poor cover at best for his bright red hair. He doubted Ginny’s friend would bother looking his direction, anyway, not with the manner in which he was...occupied.
The professor (Neville,
Charlie’s mind helpfully and belatedly supplied) was naked save for a pair of green gloves. Several vines wrapped around his sturdy frame, twining around his arms and legs. One thinner tendril was wrapped around his balls, another around his cock, the tip probing at Neville’s leaking slit. Charlie bit back a groan at the sight, feeling himself harden in response, watching while Neville pinched and pulled at his nipples with his gloved hands, head falling back in obvious pleasure.
Charlie heard Neville murmur something under his breath, jaw dropping once more when the vines around Neville’s body responded, the ones wrapping his legs tugging them apart, while the ones binding his wrists pulled him so that he bent forward at the waist. A third vine uncoiled behind Neville, the end prodding at his buttocks. The whimper of delight Neville made a few moments later, accompanied by his rocking movements, made it perfectly clear what
the vine was doing. Charlie found himself unable to look away, his own cock hardening further while he watched as Neville was deliriously buggered by his own plants. The thick vine in his arse pumped in and out, its rhythm steady and forceful, the smaller tendril around Neville’s cock stroking and squeezing. Neville’s gasps and grunts as he neared completion were intoxicating music to Charlie’s ears. Neville’s back arched less than a minute later, semen arcing into the air in creamy spurts. The vines released him with a single word, and Neville collapsed onto his knees, panting. His chest gleamed with sweat, gloved hands moving from his nipples to stroke across his abdomen.
Charlie backed away slowly, crab-walking his way to the greenhouse door and out, where he fled to Hagrid’s hut as fast as his erection would allow. Once inside he slammed the door and undid his trousers, indulging in a frantic wank that lasted all of thirty seconds before he cried out and came, images of undulating vines and green gloves dancing behind his closed eyelids.
Leaning against the door, Charlie waited until he’d caught his breath before Vanishing his spunk from the floor with a wave of his wand, wondering what he was going to do the first time he and Neville met face to face. He couldn’t avoid the other man forever, especially since they were colleagues; and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to. Charlie was quite certain he wanted to learn the spells needed to control those vines, so he could play similar games with Neville. He couldn’t deny the whole thing looked like wonderful fun.
Charlie didn’t have to wait long before he next spotted Neville. He saw the professor the next morning after breakfast, working in one of the herb gardens outside of the greenhouse. Neville had his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, his hands encased in the same green gloves he’d worn the previous afternoon. It provided the perfect opportunity.
“You’re Professor Longbottom, aren’t you?” Charlie asked, strolling toward him, one hand outstretched in greeting. “Weren’t you one of my sister Ginny’s friends from school?”
“I am, and I still am.” Neville smiled and rose, taking Charlie’s hand in a firm grip. The glove felt like nothing else Charlie had ever known, as supple as the finest leather, softer than chamois. No wonder Neville had enjoyed touching himself with them on his hands while allowing his vines to have their wicked way with him. “I hear you’re going to substitute for Hagrid while he’s on sabbatical. I’m assuming you know your way around the Forbidden Forest?”
“I have a rough idea, but I imagine a guided tour with someone who goes there frequently wouldn’t go amiss,” Charlie replied. “I know where not to go unless I want to become acromantula food, and I know the favourite watering holes for the thestrals. I suppose I could find the best places for bowtruckles and flobberworms on my own, but I wouldn’t turn down help or advice.”
“I could help with the bowtruckles,” Neville said, “but I’m afraid you’re on your own with the flobberworms. Hagrid didn’t leave any teaching notes for you before he left?”
“I’m still unpacking,” Charlie admitted a wee bit sheepishly. “I don’t know if he left notes or not.”
“I’m sure they’re somewhere, and knowing Hagrid they’re probably quite lengthy and contain many misspellings.” Neville shrugged, unconcerned. “He was afraid whomever took over this year might not know anything about magical creatures, but considering you’ve worked with dragons I’m sure his doubts are in vain.”
Charlie chuckled. “It’s nice to know someone besides the headmistress has faith in my abilities!”
“She would never have hired you, recommendations or not, if she hadn’t,” Neville pointed out. “Well, I need to finish weeding the thyme, and I imagine you’ll want to finish unpacking. What say we meet at The Three Broomsticks later for a pint? Rosmerta’s mead is even better than her butterbeer, if you can believe it.”
“I’ve never been disappointed with anything Rosmerta brews,” Charlie replied. “Did you want to grab a bite there as well?”
The roast chicken at The Three Broomsticks was quite possibly even better than Molly Weasley’s, although Charlie would never say that aloud in his mother’s hearing. His dinner companion was equally wonderful, friendly and possessing both a dry sense of humour and a keen sense of observation, surprisingly knowledgeable of the foibles of everyone in the pub’s common room. It would be difficult to imagine such an affable bloke as being so, well, kinky
, if Charlie hadn’t witnessed it firsthand.
The mead was also as delicious as Neville claimed. Charlie was halfway through his second and seriously considering buying a third. Swallowing a mouthful, Charlie wiped his lips with the back of his hand, something else he would never have done had his mum been anywhere nearby.
“Thanks for buying dinner and the first two rounds,” he said. “The next one’s on me.”
“You’re welcome, and thank you,” Neville replied. “The pleasure’s been all mine.”
Speaking of pleasure...
“Say, I meant to ask earlier today, but I have to ask where you found your gardening gloves,” Charlie said. “I’ve been wracking my brain all day, and I can’t recall what sort of leather they’re made from. I was half tempted to find an excuse to shake your hand again just so I could feel them again. I’ve never felt leather that soft or pliant.”
“That’s probably because they’re not leather,” Neville answered, grinning. “The gloves are made from mermaid’s suede. It’s actually a species of seaweed that makes a type of material that resembles leather when dried and cured, and is as durable. My friend Luna sent me the pair I own for my birthday last year while she was travelling through Madagascar. I wrote her afterward and asked for another pair this year. She promised to send me some in red. They feel really nice.”
“They looked like they would,” Charlie said, trying and failing not to remember the way Neville had rubbed and pinched his nipples with his mermaid’s suede gloves. Between those gloves and the vines...he shifted in his chair, reaching for his mead and draining it.
Neville propped his chin in one hand, still smiling at Charlie. “I saw you, you know. Yesterday. I take it you liked what you saw.”
Charlie groaned, slumping down into his chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spy, I just noticed the greenhouse door wasn’t shut all the way and I just wandered in to say hello, and I know I should have left as soon as I saw what was going on, but...”
“But you liked what you saw,” Neville repeated.
Caught out, Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”
“And now maybe I’m jealous of a few vines?”
Neville leaned closer, voice dropping. “Trust me, they’re not nearly as good as the real thing.”
The invitation was undeniable, and it took everything Charlie had not to lick his lips in anticipation. “I guess I should ask whether or not you still want me to buy the next round, or do you want to go ahead and leave now?”
Picking up his pint, Neville drank slowly, throat working, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s. Once the pint was empty he set it on the table and stood. “I’m ready when you are.”
Charlie merely nodded.
Neville Apparated them outside of the Hogwarts gates, and from there they walked to the greenhouse. He pulled out a ring of keys from his robes and unlocked the door before ushering Charlie inside, making sure the door closed completely shut behind them.
“One audience is enough, there’s no need for another,” Neville murmured, and Charlie finally saw a tinge of pink stain the other man’s cheeks. He swallowed, realising that Neville truly hadn’t intended to be seen caught in such an intimately private moment, that it had been purely incidental.
Reaching out, Charlie caught Neville by his elbow, turning him so they stood face to face. “Look, whatever happens after tonight, I promise I won’t breathe a word regarding what I saw yesterday. What you do with your vines when you miss the real thing is your business and nobody else’s.” Brushing his lips across Neville’s in a light kiss, he added, “On the other hand, I’m going to do my best to ensure you have no regrets about being seen.”
Neville replied by kissing him back, hard and hungry. Charlie responded, parting his lips, their tongues sliding together in fierce abandon as they stumbled down an aisle toward one of the work tables. Charlie’s mouth plundered Neville’s, willingly taking everything he had to offer while they fumbled with buttons and belt buckles and other fastenings, undressing with almost unseemly haste.
“Gloves,” Neville murmured against Charlie’s lips. “On the table behind you.”
“Put them on,” Charlie whispered back. “I want to feel them when you touch my cock, I want to watch while you play with your nipples just before I fuck you. Maybe I should have you wrap one of your vines around your cock tightly enough so you can’t come until I say you can, or perhaps I ought to make you charm one to smack your arse a few times, as a reminder to keep your greenhouse door closed while you play with your plants. Would you like that?”
Neville moaned into Charlie’s mouth in a wordless assent, still kissing Charlie with passionate fervour while managing to pull the mermaid’s suede gloves onto his hands. Once he had them on he closed his fingers around Charlie’s cock. It twitched in his grasp and Charlie moaned in turn, biting down on his lower lip.
The mermaid’s suede was like nothing Charlie had ever experienced before as it slid against his prick, the nubby softness of the material creating a velvety friction that built inexorably with each sliding movement of Neville’s hand, with every expert twist of his wrist. Charlie gripped the edge of the work table, knuckles whitening as he thrust into Neville’s hand. His eyes squeezed shut when Neville’s thumb circled the rim of his penis, pushing back the foreskin before skating across the head, dampening the suede with his precome.
Releasing the work table, Charlie clamped a hand around Neville’s wrist, staying his hand while temporarily preventing orgasm. “Give me your gloves, and then tell your vines to bind your hands above your head,” he growled, capturing Neville’s mouth in another hard kiss.
Neville obeyed, closing his eyes while Charlie pulled on the gloves and the vines wrapped around his wrists, tugging them over his head. “There’s lube in the green pot,” he said instead.
“They won’t ruin your gloves?” Charlie asked, glancing toward the pot in question.
“They haven’t yet. It’s okay, Charlie. Really.”
Reassured, Charlie coated his fingers with the lube, brushing soft kisses along the sharp planes of Neville’s shoulderblades while he worked one, then two fingers into his hole, twisting them inside and feeling Neville’s shudder of pleasure when he found and stroked his prostate, whimpering helplessly as Charlie hit the spot again and again.
Still rubbing Neville’s prostate, Charlie reached around his chest until he found a nipple, caressing the nub until it tightened beneath his touch. Catching it between his thumb and forefinger, he began squeezing, pinching it gently at first, increasing the pressure gradually until Neville gasped, writhing.
“Too much?” Charlie asked.
Neville shook his head. “Just...right...” he breathed. “Oh Merlin, I want you in me so bad...”
Pulling his fingers free, Charlie gave Neville’s nipple another quick pinch before lining up and pressing his cock deep into Neville in one long, continuous thrust. Neville groaned harshly at the invasion, head dropping onto his chest. Grabbing his hips, Charlie began thrusting hard and fast, letting go of his hips occasionally just long enough to twist at one of Neville’s nipples or to reach around and tug at Neville’s cock in a gloved fist. Neville met him stroke for stroke, not even attempting to stifle his cries or moans of pleasure as Charlie pounded into him, fingers curling around the vines wrapped around his wrists and gripping tightly. Charlie’s breath stuttered in his throat, the pressure in his balls becoming unbearable. He felt Neville squeeze around him and he thrust into his welcoming heat once, twice more before coming with a muffled groan, filling Neville with quick, hot spurts. Fisting Neville’s cock once more, Charlie stroked him roughly, pulling at him until Neville gave a strangled cry and came as well, semen spattering his belly and Charlie’s fingers.
The vines released Neville’s wrists as soon as his prick softened. Charlie caught him as he slumped, nuzzling Neville’s throat, one arm going around his waist. Turning his head, Neville gave him a sated smile.
“Did I tell you my quarters are in the back?” he asked. “Vines are nice, but beds are better. It’ll give me a chance to get up close and personal with those lovely tattoos you’re wearing.”
Charlie laughed, rubbing Neville’s wrists and giving him another kiss. “They’ll love the gloves, trust me. Lead the way.”