Title: Sizing up the Matter Author: by lee_west and ceria Characters: Kingsley Shacklebolt / Gideon Prewett Rating: R Summary: Two wizards meet and, well, size each other up. Repost: originally written for daily_deviant on lj.
He was bored. It was a hot, windless day, the kind that left trails of perspiration dripping down his neck and back. Cooling charms helped with some of the heat, but after a long morning training on the pitch, he needed a distraction.
Unfortunately, none of his Quidditch teammates were able to provide the distraction he wanted. He'd gone through six years of Hogwarts frustrated without knowing why before finding someone his last year to entertain him. Now that he was out of Hogwarts, he hadn't found anyone new in the wizarding world to provide anything similar. It was early afternoon - too early to begin prowling through Muggle London to look for someone, so he distracted himself with a quick trip, wasting time. Wandering through Diagon Alley, Gideon Prewett stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Of course, with his mind focused on play and not work, Gideon quickly found himself comparing brooms to the type of bloke he wanted to find in Muggle London. Non-racing brooms were slimmer than brooms Quidditch players needed. Considering the amount of equipment used to protect their bodies, they had to have thicker handles to make it easier to control them with one hand, or no hands depending on the match.
Rolling his shoulders to dislodge his sticky shirt, Gideon looked through the window at the new comet advertised. He owned a professional broom already, but this was a beauty. He touched the glass with one finger, tracing its outline, thinking about how long it had been since he found someone big and thick. Shaking his head, he tried to dislodge the image of a man hung like that, someone willing to bend him over and... Night was not arriving fast enough for him.
***
Standing naked in his bedroom after a cooling shower, Kingsley assessed his clothing options: he was going to Diagon Alley to get his books for his last year, but he didn't plan to stay much longer than that. Muggle London, with all its attractions, was beckoning.
So robes were out of the question. Actually, robes were out of the question as a matter of principle. He only wore them when absolutely required to. They were shapeless and, frankly, Kingsley didn't spend all that time in the makeshift gym at his house for his well-toned body to be hidden.
He chose a very tight black t-shirt and, bare-bottomed, took two pairs of jeans from his closet. He put them, one at a time, in front of his body and finally decided for the one that sat lower on his hips. The boys on Old Compton Street loved to see the crack of his arse when he bent over under the guise of examining some sort of merchandise from a street vendor. It never failed ā the usual follow up to that was having a handsome boy bending over for him, bare-bottomed, in a nearby loo.
The jeans were ridiculously tight, and he adjusted his cock inside, zipping up carefully. He looked at himself sideways and admired the bulge in the front. He had often been told that he was hung like a horse and he liked to give the boys at Old Compton Street a chance to assess the goods before they committed themselves.
He slid on his dragon hide boots, which in Muggle London looked like any other exotic skin, and, whistling, Apparated to Diagon Alley, near Quality Quidditch Supplies.
And he saw the man rolling his shoulders right in front of him. He checked him out from the back: tall and lanky, yet he seemed strong. His red hair was plastered to the top of his head, the fringe on the bottom sticking out in several directions, and his damp blue shirt was stuck to his back.
Kingsley's eyes moved further down: a nice tight arse. He wondered if the man in front of him was (1) gay, (2) unaccompanied and (3) a bottom in need of a big cock. It never occurred to him to add a fourth category, willing. If numbers one and three were affirmative, then the man would be willing. If he wasn't alone, there were ways to separate him from his company, so Kingsley added the category but didn't really worry about it.
There was only one way to find out. He approached the man and said, with a grin, "Hot, isn't it?" while openly checking the man out.
Gideon glanced at the young man in front of him, immediately noticing that his eyes were wandering. Then Gideon looked down, taking in the tight jeans hanging low on the boy's hips and the tight, black tee shirt. It was rucked up a little above his jeans and Gideon smiled at the sliver of bare skin . Some things were worth touching, even in this weather, and he wondered how old the bloke was.
"Do you mean the weather?" Gideon asked, calmly watching his face until he looked back up to meet his eyes.
Aha! Number one is a go! That was exactly the kind of response Kingsley wanted. He wiggled his eyebrows. "No, I didn't. Although the weather is hot, too." He waited, arms crossed behind his back, for further confirmation.
Well, wizarding London suddenly became much more interesting, Gideon decided. He considered his options briefly: the young man in front of him had to be close to his age, maybe a few years younger, which meant he was most likely legal.
Taking in his appearance again, Gideon dropped his eyes to his waist, unconsciously licking his lips at the revealed skin. All that black looked delicious, and tempting enough to make him not care about the legality of it.
Gideon looked lower, eyeing the hips in those tight jeans.
"Uncomfortable?" Gideon asked without looking up, avidly watching his pelvic area and the fact that the jeans left little to imagination.
"Yeah, a bit. These jeans are tight, you know? Maybe I should find a place where I can take them off," Kingsley answered, bucking his hips forward a little. "You know of any place like that?" So far number two seemed affirmative, too. At least no irate wizard had come out of a store brandishing his wand in Kingsley's direction. With a bit of luck, number three would be bull's eye.
The bloke was a tease. Gideon looked up slowly, at the flat stomach, the slight swell of muscular definition beneath the shirt, the broad shoulders. The shaved head could be forgiven; in any event, it wasn't like he would be able to see it if the boy was any good.
And, if those jeans were any indication, Gideon might even bother to ask for a name instead of calling him some generic term.
"You sure you can manage to remove them? They look a size or two too small. I would have to think it's a painful fit in there." Gideon reached out to touch him, but stopped. Not in public he wouldn't, especially not in front of the Quidditch shop where the shopkeeper knew him by first name.
He glanced around, wondering which alley was closest, "I could help, if you like."
"I'm sure you can. It's a bit hard to zip it down. Come on," he said, turning in the direction of Knockturn Alley. He would never go in the alley, but right past it there was a good place, a sort of a nook where packaging crates were stacked until removed. No-one ever went there, unless they were, well, stacking unused packaging material. Usually at this time of the day it was pretty quiet, and the crates offered privacy.
The only risk would to be seen by his father or one of his father's Auror colleagues, who constantly patrolled the streets. But he was sure they wouldn't be caught. The Aurors were much more worried about the shady characters who shopped in Knockturn Alley.
The boy's arrogance and assumption that Gideon would follow made him forget the heat and do exactly that, heeling behind him. Gideon watched the sway of hips, surely exaggerated by the boy's stride but fuck if it wasn't making him hard as he stared.
They reached a stack of crates and he twisted through a small opening to wait behind them. Gideon waited a moment, letting his anticipation build, although he was slightly nervous. He was going to find out if this wizard had what he wanted. Gideon hoped he did. He took a deep breath and followed him through the opening. The boy was leaning against the wall, smiling confidently with his hands on his hips, his shirt rucked up a little more.
Gideon dropped immediately to his knees, oblivious to the dirty concrete below him. Placing each hand on a thigh, he traveled upward, feeling tight muscle beneath his palms, and leaned forward, jutting his chin forward. Nuzzling the denim, he grinned as the boy started, his cock already twitching in its confines.
There was sweat clinging to his black skin, the sheen caused by the heat the only thing differentiating between flesh and shirt. Licking the bare skin, Gideon felt the boy shudder. Tongue trailing from left hip to right hip, Gideon slowly caressed skin, teasing with light nips of his teeth. Gideon put his hands to either side of his lower stomach, both thumbs caressing his cock as it stretched inside the jeans.
Kingsley hadn't thought to cast any sort of privacy charm, which he realized now had been a mistake. He was already trying to remain quiet, and his clothes weren't off yet.
Sucking on the hipbone that was slightly showing above the top of denim, Gideon finally leaned back, appraising him. "Tell me you know how to use that."
With a loud laugh, Kingsley motioned for him to continue, "I know it very well, don't worry. If you lean over for me, I'll use it right now." So far, so good; the man in front of him obviously wanted a good fuck. Kingsley grinned: that was something he could do without any reservations.
Gideon shook his head, "Not yet; I want that in my mouth, and then we'll see about you fucking me."
His bright blue eyes captured Kingsley's attention - or maybe it was just the challenge in them. Kingsley slowly pushed away from the wall and undid the buttons, shifting himself to carefully peel the jeans away. He watched the man's eyes go wide for a moment and laughed at his facial expression. Oh yeah, he was a bottom, and Kingsley could already tell he was contemplating how much getting fucked would sting. With confidence that he'd like it based on his reaction, Kingsley pushed his jeans down, even with top of his thighs and put one hand on red hair, closing his fist around a clump of it.
Gideon winced as his head was pushed back, forcing him to look up. The pain was inconsequential though, only serving as foreplay to him. The longer he was here, the more he wanted this.
"No teeth," Kingsley reminded Gideon.
Huffing, Gideon tried to look down because he wanted a closer look, but his head was yanked up again.
"Iām serious," he added, as if Gideon didn't understand.
"I get it," Gideon said, barely keeping his face from twisting into a sneer. He wasn't some first time blower that needed instructions. He shook his head, dislodging the fist balled in his hair and glared at him, until he finally looked down and whistled softly, anger forgotten. "What's you name?" Gideon asked.
"You need my name to suck my cock?"
"No, I need your name for the next time."
"Kingsley."
Gideon didn't complain again as Kingsley grabbed his hair and shoved him forward, forcing him to take more in his mouth with the first touch than expected.
Stretching lips over skin, Gideon closed his eyes, letting Kingsley's fist in his hair guide his motions. He shifted on his knees, uncomfortably hard. Kingsley made it worse, mumbling nonsense under his breath as his hand controlled Gideon.
As Kingsley became more excited, mumbling louder now about Yeah, like that, suck it, take it all in, Gideon tried to breathe. Kingsley's cock slid in and out of his mouth, touching the back of his throat, causing a gag reflex that Gideon barely controlled. Yet he didn't fight against it.
Kingsley was pleasantly surprised; he hadn't found someone like this before. Sure, he could lean blokes over all the time and fuck them, but few were willing to go down on him and let Kingsley control it. He pushed in deeper, the tip of his cock sliding down the back of the man's throat, causing Kingsley to moan and mutter some more because it felt so good. He felt the man shudder and Kingsley knew that he was about to make him gag, so he let go of his hair and put both hands on the crates, bracing himself.
Reaching around Kingsley, kneading his buttocks with his hands, Gideon took control back as he began moving faster. Fuck yes, he decided, he wanted more of this. He pushed Kingsley against the wall, the knuckles of his fingers scraping against brick, and sucked, tongue wrapping around the edges.
Fuck, this bloke knew what he was doing with a cock, Kingsley decided. Unable to control it, Kingsley pumped faster; with each thrust of his hips he could feel the bloke's hands tighten on his arse.
Kingsley pulled all the way out and laughed when he whimpered. Wrapping one hand around his own cock, Kingsley grabbed his head again, forcing him to look up at his face while Kingsley pumped furiously. He shot come across his face, inside his mouth, laughed as the bloke on his knees licked his lips, and then carefully licked Kingsley.
With a satisfied sigh, Kingsley leaned back against the wall, his arse still protected from the rough brick by fingers. Idly Kingsley wondered if he had hurt the man's hands. His mum had taught him some basic healing and Kingsley figured it would be a good way to thank him if he healed the broken skin.
Gideon, knees aching from the ground and head aching from the hair pulling, licked Kingsley slowly, careful to not irritate the sensitive skin. He shifted on his knees, cock still hard, but didn't speak.
Sighing, Kingsley stood up, releasing his hands. He touched his face, "You want some help with that?"
As soon as Kingsley spoke, Gideon reached beneath his robes, shaking his head. He'd take care of it on his own. "Not this time," he said, hoping the refusal would pique Kingsley's interest enough to make him want more.
Laughing, Kingsley pulled his jeans up and put his hands on his hips. He wasn't expected to help? Well, that was fine, but he would watch. He congratulated himself silently on his perception. One, check. Two, check. And, most importantly, number three was a big check ā not only was he a bottom, but one who knew how to appreciate a big cock. He'd have to ask the bloke's name, too. After all, one didn't need a name to fuck a decent bottom, but, as the man had said, he'd need it for the next time.