Zacharias Smith in the Hogwarts Library with a House Scarf
Title: Fetish
Author: keieeeye (Kei)
Character: Zacharias Smith
Location: Hogwarts Library
Object: House Scarf
Other Characters: Terry Boot
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage.
Word Count: 1519
Disclaimer: All the usual; also, some aspects of Terry's personality (and glasses fetish) taken from a much-loved roleplaying character.

Zacharias doesn't usually sit alone in the library, even if none of his friends are there. It's how he goes about out of house friendships mostly, actually, glancing around the tables to see who he thinks would be the least annoying to sit with and just dropping down there whether they like it or not.

Not today, though. He spots the back of Terry's head as soon as he enters, eyes drawn to him, sitting opposite Anthony and Michael at a table near the far end of the room, and he walks past them, heading for the one in the corner, which might afford him more privacy than almost anywhere else in the library that isn't an alcove or in the stacks. It's a sort of double table, with a vertical piece of wood splitting it in half underneath so that when he tries to stretch his legs out he invariably bumps his shins against the bottom of it, which is why he doesn't normally sit there.

The hair on the back of his head tickles and itches, standing on end, and as he finishes spreading his stuff out he glances up to see Terry staring at him intently. He pulls his glasses out of his pocket and slips them on, shooting him a small smirk.

*

"No way!" Zacharias laughed to show exactly what he thought of the suggestion that had just been made, namely that it was completely and utterly ridiculous. "Not a chance. There are some things even I won't do."

It was also completely and utterly ridiculous how sexy Terry could be when he was looking petulant. This, Zacharias decided, was probably at the root of much of his madness. "You asked what I wanted for my birthday," he pointed out, voice somewhere between cajoling and pleading.

"I thought you'd say, like, an original Common Goblin LP, or a blow job or four. Or naked photos. I could take you naked photos." He dangled the counter-proposal in the air between them, settling back down into his sprawled-out-on-the-grass position, school robes piled underneath his head as a pillow. It was something else he'd previously refused to do on the grounds that he'd most likely have to find someone to take said photos, and he could only imagine the incredibly awkward conversations he'd have to have with his friends to do that.

Terry looked tempted by this offer, but after a moment he shook his head. "No. No, I'll save that for Christmas. How about, you do this, and then, when you come over this summer, I'll tie you to my bed with your school scarf and torture you for hours and hours."

The mental image that immediately sprang to the forefront of his mind was incredibly vivid, and Zacharias had to swallow and shake his head to try to get rid of it. Between that, and the implication that Terry thought they'd still be together come Christmas, he was beginning to harbour second thoughts about his point-blank refusal. It wasn't like... No, no way, absolutely not. "Someone would see. They'll expel me and lock me up for corrupting minors. I know expelled guys are hellishly sexy and all, but I don't think they give conjugal visits in Azkaban."

"I'll see. You can do it during a study hour, or on Saturday morning when everyone's outside. Please?" He leaned over Zacharias, one hand moving to rest on his stomach for balance, and he could feel skin on skin where his shirt had ridden up slightly. Terry was chewing on his lower lip absently, or maybe not absently, maybe completely deliberately because whenever he did that Zacharias just wanted to snog him madly and it was slowly becoming clear to him that his boyfriend was a minion of evil. This was what he got for dating a Ravenclaw.

*

Terry's gaze is heavy and loud in the silent emptiness of the library, and for a moment Zacharias wonders if maybe he should just walk out and come back when it's busier, when the sound of murmuring and chairs shifting and people discussing their essays forms a mask over everything. It's a delaying tactic, though, and he suspects that if he were to walk out now he wouldn't come back. And he really, really wants Terry to tie him up. (Ravenclaws are definitely evil, a part of his mind mutters, using his biggest fantasy against him.)

So, really, it's now or never, and with mostly the hardcore studiers here Madam Pince isn't likely to be doing rounds much, and the fucking annoying piece of wood under the table is blocking his lower body from view by anyone who isn't sitting directly to his left, and a few metres away Terry is chewing on his lip again. "Fuck," he whispers, and tries to call to mind those vivid mental images from the other day as he oh-so-casually drops his left hand under the desk and starts undoing his trousers.

He would have thought he'd be too nervous to get hard, but apparently the fact that he's a seventeen year old boy supersedes the fact that he's sitting in the fucking school library, textbooks around him and his glasses on like some straight-laced swot. He draws in a small breath as blood starts flowing into his dick, imagining the look of concentration Terry will get on his face as he does up the knots around his wrists. Sometimes he thinks it's slightly girly that it's those little things that turn him on almost as much as the more obvious, and he'd never tell Terry just how much he likes watching him when he's thinking, god no, he'd never be able to look at himself in a mirror again. He didn't think to bring any lube, and lifting his hand up to spit into the palm might be just a little bit obvious, so he twists his wrist around a bit to rub his thumb over the head, eyes closing for just a moment as he tries to get pre-cum flowing. Terry will probably do that too, and then with the tip of his tongue, flicking it into the slit (and oh god, that thought works) and Zacharias will start twisting his hands helplessly, whimpering in frustration as he wishes he could bury his fingers in Terry's hair, the woolen fibres of his scarf grating against the thin skin of his wrists.

He can almost hear the friction of the scarf in his ears now and he lets his tongue flick out to dampen his dry lips, risking another glance up at Terry and meeting his eyes for a moment before looking back down at his parchment and hoping to all hell he looks like he's focused on his homework. To be honest he's not sure whether the glasses make it harder or easier to see his eyes, but knowing his luck, probably easier - maybe that's why Terry likes them, apart from the obvious factor of how stupidly bookish they make him look and how that's like porn to Ravenclaws. The movement of his arm is the thing that would give him away the most, he thinks, and he tries to work it from the elbow and wrist instead, slicking fluid over the sensitive skin of his cock as it leaks out. He bites his tongue to keep from making a noise, dipping his fingers down to stroke his balls for a moment, moving them up again to pump more firmly, thinking about the scrape of Terry's teeth on his nipples and how he'll arch up, begging for more. With his arms up over his head and the scarf doing nothing for the flush of heat all over his skin, palms sweating, his muscles will be stretched taut, nerve endings tingling under the wet heat of his boyfriend's mouth, everything made better by the knowledge that he's completely and utterly at Terry's mercy.

The pit of his stomach is starting to tighten and he moves his hand a little faster, torn between racing towards an orgasm and trying to be careful not to draw attention to himself. His mouth opens slightly, breath coming faster as he squeezes firmly and there, he bites down hard on his lip and swallows as he comes, smothering a groan in the back of his throat, belatedly realising that as well as lube he really ought to have brought tissues. He swallows again, trying to calm his heartrate as he puts down the quill he's holding in his right hand and reaches for his wand, looking up again to see Terry's reaction as he attempts a silent evanesco to get rid of the evidence. Anthony and Michael both still have their heads down working, but Terry is staring right at him, practically drinking him in, and from what Zacharias can see with the sharper vision his glasses give him his eyes are dark with arousal. They'd damn well better be, for what he just did.