dieter is a trampasaurus rex (dieter) wrote in enemies_rpg, @ 2013-01-28 17:28:00 |
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The nook behind the Selwyn tapestry was cramped, hot and increasingly airless. Dieter was too aware of everything at the moment, but that's always how he felt pinned against the cold stone (why was he usually the one trapped against the wall, he asked himself later) during these midnight trysts, but never more than tonight with bare hands on bare skin and neither of them wearing the shirts they had come to their meeting in. He wasn't sure how long it went on before he pushed Algie back. "Stop," was all he said before taking a deep breath. Dieter knew that they were tempting fate meeting up like this so often, but the appeal of Algernon seemed to make him stupid, and looking at the other boy's bare chest he sort of understood why. It took Algie slightly longer to process the request than it would have with his mind clearer, not addled by teenage lust and hormones. Even as he took a small step back (the only kind of step he could make in this tight space), he reached out an arm to brush his fingers against Dieter's pale arm. In the past few weeks, they'd been rash and careless in their rendez-vous, but this was as far as they'd dared to go, and he wondered if Dieter was getting cold feet. "Why?" he breathed, his voice low and husky. Dieter closed his eyes and took another deep breath, leaning back more comfortably against the wall. Once his head felt a little clearer he opened his eyes and straightened back up. In the dim light it was easy to stop feeling so overwhelmed. Dieter hated feeling overwhelmed, but then again he didn't hate it that much. He was never exactly sure what to do with his hands when he stopped to think about it, but he reached out and grabbed Algie's upper arm. "Just needed to catch my breath." "Aye?" The stone walls around them were cold, but human bodies were warm, as was the narrow space between them. Algie drew in, closing that space. He ran his fingers up Dieter's chest (which was, admittedly, not the nicest he'd seen, but at least it was accessible), his hand settling at the juncture of shoulder and neck. He leaned in and muttered into Dieter's ear, "So when I talked to my sister, she said something else." He did not mention that he'd met his sister in this exact spot. That would have ruined the mood. It was almost a relief to hear something so weirdly inappropriate at that moment, Dieter thought. The mood seemed to crumble a little and he thought of a dozen responses that would end any conversations about Augusta before they started. But even as close together as they were, with Algie whispering in his ear like he hadn't brought up his own sister mid-snog, curiosity worked its way in. "Really?" he asked in a low voice. "What did she say?" "She said she hoped Druella wasn't right about us because I ought to have better taste. And you're an ass." He punctuated his point by shoving Dieter closer against the wall. He couldn't argue the last point, but it didn't change what his body wanted or what he did. Maybe Dieter being an ass had even fed into whatever impulse it was that made Algie want to meet him after curfew. Reaching out and grabbing Algie by the shoulder, he pulled him closer. Once they were almost nose to nose, he raised an eyebrow. So Augusta wouldn't approve. He wasn't surprised, of course. None of his sisters thought very well of Algie either, after everything they'd done to each other before. "Now who's a liar?" He smirked. "Since I assume you lied to her about it." Algie's nostrils flared once in irritation. He could have said so many things in retort: how Dieter lied just as much by keeping the details from Alphard and Thalia, how, in any case, Dieter was way worse than him. Instead, he growled, "Shut up," and insured that Dieter would by occupying his mouth. 'Shut up' was becoming a staple of their conversations, it was like Algie's way of saying hello, Dieter thought. Though he didn't mind being told to shut up when it was followed by, well, the usual thing. It was a bit odd to not have a shirt to grab, so he planted his hands against Algie's (yes, perfect) chest and pushed him back, forgetting in the wild stir of impulsiveness that there was a tapestry there instead of another wall. The blast of cold castle air invading their space seemed to go on a bit longer than it should, though. Someone cleared their throat and Dieter's eyes snapped open. Shoving Algie back as hard as he could, he looked up to see the slightly-smiling face of Albus Dumbledore. They were caught. "Sir," was all he could say, looking at Algie and hoping he'd do the talking. Dumbledore was his head of house after all. "Sir," Algie echoed, unsure of exactly how to react in this situation. He'd never been caught in such a compromising position, and he couldn't remember how Augusta had told him that she'd dealt with it when it happened to her. It was worse in his case, though, and the shock of yet another person finding out his secret -- worse, finding out what he was doing with Dieter -- temporarily overwhelmed his senses. It became apparent, though, that Professor Dumbledore wasn't repulsed or shocked. He didn't even look particularly judgmental. Behind the half-moon spectacles, the professor's eyes twinkled just as they did when he congratulated the Gryffindor Quidditch team on a match well played. "I can explain, sir," Algie said hastily, even though he couldn't. He glanced over at Dieter, who was frozen, also in no place to explain. "Oh, it is quite clear exactly what is going on here," Dumbledore said, waving his hand. "The sort of thing that would merit a detention each and fifteen points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, I think." "Y-yes sir," Algie stammered. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" "I daresay that won't be necessary, Mr. Selwyn." There was that twinkle in his eye again. "And I'm sure I won't catch either of you like this after curfew again." Algie nodded solemnly. At the moment, the last thing he wanted was to be out after hours again with Dieter Lestrange, but he was beginning to know himself well enough to realize that would change soon enough. He glanced down at his feet and bent down to pick up the shirt that was lying there. He thought it was his. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Dieter finally snapped out of his panic long enough to realise he was still lacking a shirt and bent down to grab the one left on the floor. Dumbledore's completely calm dismissal of them rattled him maybe more than anger would have. Professors gossiped, didn't they? He wasn't sure how much he trusted the assertion that it would stay a secret. "You even won't tell Professor Slughorn?" Slughorn couldn't understand discretion if he drank it with his nightly mead. "You were simply out of bed after curfew," Professor Dumbledore said easily. "Thank you, sir," he muttered as he pulled his shirt back on and started buttoning it back up. He'd known he was a bad idea. "Now to bed with both of you." With that, the Professor continued to wherever he had been going in the middle of the night in the first place. Algie breathed a sigh of relief as Professor Dumbledore walked away. As far as getting caught went, that had gone better than he could ever imagine. In the immediate retrospection, it seemed completely natural that Albus Dumbledore, who was so gentle and understanding, would know exactly how to react to this situation (had he ever stumbled upon two boys out together before?). Algie looked over at Dieter and tugged at his shirt to button it, mirroring the other boy's actions, but the fabric strained to cover his chest and the buttons barely held. "Ugh," he groaned, shucking it off for the second time since he'd come to meet Dieter. He held the bundle of white fabric out to him. "This one's yours." Unbuttoning the shirt he'd already had halfway on and handing it back to Algie, he took his own shirt with more force than necessary. It wasn't that he was particularly angry, but Dieter suddenly found himself more than ready to go to bed and forget the night had happened. No matter how kind the Gryffindor Professor had been, it was just another person in on the secret. As he turned to leave, he wasn't sure exactly what to do. So he settled for simply saying "good night." Throwing his correct shirt over his shoulders, Algie turned to leave in the opposite direction. He repeated the same farewell. "Good night." |