springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2009-03-03 16:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, harry/teddy, slash |
Happy Springsmut, Nk_aoede!
Author: florahart
Recipient: nk_aoede
Title: Stakeout
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Teddy (with mentions of Harry/Ginny, Albus Severus/OMC, Teddy/Victoire, and assorted other innuendo)
Warnings: Voyeurism, innuendo between Albus Severus and Victoire (who are cousins, which is not incestuous in Britain), gentle coercion.
Word Count: 4,372
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: It's funny what a bloke can find out if he just keeps his eyes open. Funny, and disturbingly hot, too.
Bring the bottle, would you? And pull up the ladder; I don't fancy making a scene at the bloody reception even if everyone is more or less besotted by wine and/or spirits by now. And I definitely don't need one of the younger kids deciding to escape to the tree house and overhearing and running off to tell Mum.
Not that this old thing is all that safe for little kids any more. Remind me later to tell Granddad again he ought to do something about it.
Right. Comfortable? We should have brought more pillows. Anyway.
First things first. The reason I know this whole thing is because I was kind of present for the initial moments of the conversation, in the sense I was spying practicing critical Hit Wizarding skills by nicking Dad's cloak and the situation presented itself, and I didn't leave. Because, honestly, once I heard the first part, I couldn't help it. I had to know how it all turned out.
Of course he doesn't know! How stupid do I look? Besides, I'm pretty sure until recently he thought I thought he'd never had sex, which for one thing, that's ridiculous because unless someone Accio'd the come off him in order to experiment with, I'd be a little hard to explain, what with being practically a clone, everyone says. And for another thing, I didn't think of it quite like that anyway, that it was my dad, so it doesn't matter whether I thought he'd ever had sex. Just, you know, that it was porn. Live porn. Live porn twenty feet away, with noises and smells and sweat. During which I couldn't do a fucking thing to relieve any tension myself, because I was busy spying practicing critical Hit Wizard... you know, and didn't want to give away my position. Or my testicles. But the practicing was legitimate, more or less. I've decided what I want to do with my life, unlike certain other boys named Potter who are still faffing about their father's house a year later after leaving school.
Anyway, so I got over the part about it being my dad by sort of imagining, er, you know, putting myself in his place? Because that's a lot less pervy, right? Plus, I mostly watched Teddy, who, there was nothing wrong with watching him anyway, since he's not even my cousin, even if he sort of is halfway my semi-brother and also he used to be practically engaged to you until he worked out how it was going to be a problem, you not having a cock. Speaking of, by the way, I bet the two of you made a seriously, seriously hot picture.
No, no taunting. I mean, unless you're about to offer to let me watch you with someone sometime to make up for it, in which case, Christ, we're never going to get through this story, so you're going to have to wait. More whisky?
Okay, are you sure you want to hear this? Because I'll tell you the whole story, like every tiny detail, but remember, you don't get to get freaked out by me knowing--shut up, I know, you don't get freaked out by sex things--and also, the basic how it all began part? Is weird. I mean, I guess my dad wouldn't be who he is without a weird story or two popping up, oh, every bloody year of his life or something, but this one's a whopper.
And in the morning you won't be a little drunk any more so you won't really be able to unknow it. Without magic. Which, hey, you're a witch, so I guess if you really want to, you can find a way.
All right, then.
Oh, also, Mum has no idea I know all this shit, obviously, which means you can't go telling any of the uncles, except maybe Charlie because he'd think it was fucking funny, because probably they'll get all serious about what a complete perv I am, especially if Percy gets wind of it, and then we'll have to have some kind of fucking talk and I do not need them to tell me that shit. I know I'm a complete perv. I practice being a complete perv, right?
Okay.
So here it is.
It was a dark and stormy night. No, really, shut up, it was. I was supposed to be in bed, but like I said, I'd nicked the cloak and I was going to use it to go in Jamie's room when he went to shower because I could probably find out something I could use somehow, right? What? Of course not! I'd never do that to you. You're all pure and beautiful and stuff, right? Not the kind of girl about whom I could ever find out dirty secrets, are you? Or whose lacy lavender thong I could nick! Plus, again, let's review how I don't want to lose my testicles.
You're welcome.
Of course it was hypothetical. Are you missing any lacy lavender thongs? You just seem the sort of girl who might like pretty knickers. I certainly have no idea exactly what kind, and pending the previously-mentioned invitation, I don't really expect to.
Where was I? Dark and stormy night, cloak, and so there's this knock on the door, and it's like ten at night, so clearly there's something worth checking out, because who shows up at the door unexpectedly at that hour? So I stopped hanging out outside Jamie's room, and went down the stairs. Almost fucked the whole thing up right there--I barely remembered in time not to step on that one squeaky step. I know, you'd think after all the times I've had a reason not to step there, it'd be automatic, but what can I say? Unusual circumstances. So I got down there just ahead of Dad, who was evidently in the kitchen doing some kind of cleaning up, which probably means he was sulking about Mum, which, God, he's been so weird about that, fine most of the time and then he'll get all maudlin about how he screwed up our lives and stuff by liking cock, which is totally insane because I don't know about you, but I can tell they're both five thousand times happier, except for how Dad's practically been a monk so the cock thing didn't even matter. Until this whole situation.
So I'd just got across the foyer and settled down into an unassuming lump in the corner before he came out, and I bet if he'd looked--you know, really looked using his Auror eyes--he'd have seen me because I wasn't really hiding yet at that point, but he was tired or whatever, and I was halfway behind the coat rack, and anyway, he just opened the door, and there he was. Teddy, I mean.
He came in straight away, which was evidently the easy part. Well, and also the part anyone would really have wanted to get right to, what with there being wind like one of those tropical monstrosities they show on the telly sometimes that take up the whole bloody ocean, and also water pouring about fourteen pints a second all over everywhere, so I guess he had motivation. Anyway, he came in shivering and totally not wearing a cloak like a reasonable person--just as well, as hanging one up would have been a problem for me--and shook water out of his hair like a great bloody dog.
Dad laughed, said it reminded him of Sirius.
I know. Not much similarity otherwise, is there? Except for recklessly haring off to Do The Right Thing, or chasing after Dad for good reasons, or having a sort of complicated love/hate relationship with Andromeda. Okay, now that I think of it, maybe they have some common features, in a way.
Anyway. Shook off and said they needed to talk, all sober and brown and big-eyed and shit.
Okay, just out of curiosity, has Teddy always been completely unable to just come to the point when he needs something unusual? Or sexual? Because it took him like half an hour to ask for a fuck. Half. A bloody. Hour. How are the kids, and how's work and who does Dad think will take the cup this year, and has he been keeping up with Muggle footie--stupid question; if he doesn't, next time he sees Dean there will be a repeat of the Great Disappointment of 2012 when he didn't know who that keeper was--and has he heard anything interesting from Kingsley lately. Which, who shows up at ten at night for that? So it was totally not a social call, or not that kind, so I stuck around listening and watching him practically radiate tension from every hair, pore, and molecule on his body.
No, I suppose I can see how it would be kind of awkward to ask, hey, godfather, whom I've known my entire life, any chance you want to bang me right here on the carpet at the foot of the stairs? Because I really need cock tonight, and I thought you might be willing.
And no, ew, I can't imagine asking either of my godparents any such thing, though to be fair, Uncle Ron looks a hell of a lot like my brother, and I can't even begin to tell you how profoundly not hot that makes him. Now, like, Mum's "friend" Cormac, I could totally go for him. I can't believe she's still telling us he's a friend. Does she think we're six? Or Aunt Audrey, who by the way is way, way too hot for Uncle Percy, don't you think? I could go for her, too. But as far as I know, neither one of them is flexible about the whole monogamy thing anyway, and besides, they'd probably tell their respective Weasleys, and we'd be back to Percy being involved and having a talk. No, thanks. I'll stick to imaginary three-ways with the two of them.
Oh, what, like you wouldn't go for something like that? You so would, at least if it were Cormac and, hm, Oliver Wood. You've seen him around the place, right? You so would.
Not that much Veela blood, you don't. What, one eighth? That's like how I'm related to Garland Goyle, which by and large is a branch of the family tree I mentally prune at every opportunity. Right now, I'm going to have another drink to that end because you just made it mentally sprout again and alcohol will kill the twig.
God, not like--my twig is just fine, thanks.
So, anyway, he hemmed and hawed and danced around and finally they went in the living room and had a drink, and it turns out he finally got around to reading through his mum's diary about some stuff he'd always kind of skipped over before because, you know, reading about your mum's sex life is--yes, I know, not really less weird than watching your dad, but this is beside the point, because he is not me. And there's some weird metamorphmagus thing where they get to be about a certain age, and they periodically need cock, and not just any cock, but there's this whole string of initial requirements--someone older, someone they have to talk into it, someone unattached, someone they trust, it's insane. I have no idea how their bodies can, like, tell about the age and relative reluctance and attachment status of the come--okay, age, maybe; this is a magical malady, but I mean, what, willing spunk is sparkly or something? I can guarantee that's not the case. I don't have a lot of experience with unwilling come, so maybe it's green or something, but that has nothing to do with relationship status anyway. Or trust, I don't guess. He said something about it would be best if it could be someone he'd want to stay with, too, which was where Dad started waving his hands like he was going to shoo the whole situation away right out the door and down the street, which was when Teddy said okay, just the once, then.
So, yeah, crazy, right? And Dad got even more red-faced and stammery, you know how he does, and Teddy went all blushy and apologetic, and it was a totally pathetic scene, but I knew they were gonna do it. Definitely. I mean, I don't think Dad is even psychologically able to not rescue someone when he can, and like, Teddy explained about, you know, how his mum and dad, and his dad was all grieving, which, I didn't know that, but it makes so much sense how in all the pictures, him and Sirius never stop touching each other oh my God, like, not in any indecent way, more's the pity, but just, you know, all physically leany and arm around the shouldery and shit like that.
Yeah, I guess, you know how they always used to tell the story about how his dad made his mum better, and she'd been, like, fading, all year? Right. And he's been more brown and brown than blue and gold or purple and green lately, you know? He's been saying he's fine, just busy because of the whole healer training, which, yes, long shifts and being on-call a lot, but I know Dad's been worried, and Aunt Hermione was saying just a couple of weeks ago that it was downright creepy how much it was like his mum that year before she hooked up with Remus.
Course, she thought he was heartbroken or something, just like his mum. Aunt Hermione did. I guess she was close, kind of, just, he really didn't need love. Just cock. Just like his mum, who, apparently that whole thing was the third round for her but before she'd always just wheedled Charlie into it, no strings, no alarming consequences. I guess it happens later for blokes? Like the rest of all the whole puberty thing. Or something.
I know, the notion of having to talk Charlie into getting laid boggles the mind, but she was a girl and all, right? Anyway, he wasn't available, with being out of the country, and what with a war being on and work and I don't know what else, she wound up with Remus and then she was pregnant and I guess it must have seemed like a good idea at the time.
And Teddy was all, I could go to Charlie but that seems a little off.
At this point I didn't pipe up and say, plus as if you'd have to convince him, what with not having inconvenient girly bits.
Oh, so during the conversation I'd got up from behind the coat rack and sneaked in, really carefully--no, really carefully, because can you imagine the explosion if Dad caught me eavesdropping while he was sputtering and discussing buggering his godson? I don't even know if all the salve in St. Mungo's would be adequate to handle the blistering. So I sneaked in and got settled in the shadows between the chair and the couch. Perfect view, by the way.
Teddy has a killer arse, which I guess you know.
Yeah, yeah, not as good as yours, but it's not that much of a runaway as you think. Here, let me top up your glass.
I am not stalling. I am building suspense. Even though you know the outcome. I'm setting the mood.
So, I knew they were going to do it, but I figured, you know, Dad would get all uptight and want to go get a bloody room somewhere or something because obviously he wouldn't want us to know he was fucking anyone, especially Teddy, and he kind of did start to say something about it, but Teddy said they didn't have to do it right that moment, said it wasn't like he was going to expire on the spot. Damn it, because getting myself in place to watch a whole separate time, when Dad was probably going to be full of fifty kinds of stupid nerves and laying down tripwires all over just in case, that was going to be a lot harder.
I was already trying to work out if I could lay my hands on a really good set of new-generation Extendable Eyes--you've seen the invisible ones, right?--and then fuck me if Dad didn't say no, they should just do it before he lost his nerve, and just give him two seconds.
At this point, I thought I was totally fucked because he started toward the stairs, and I thought shit, he's going to go count noses and my nose is so not in my bed. But instead he just relied on a sleepcheck charm. And Lils and Jamie were, apparently, asleep. So, no one in his area of inquiry was non-asleep, so I was good.
Then he came back and turned out the lights so everything was all shadowy--I mean, candles, and the fire, and plus it was a pretty full moon, so I could see plenty--and sat down. And just sat there. For like, hours. Okay, more like thirty seconds, but it was long enough to be weird. He didn't know how to start, he said. Didn't know how to start seducing his godson. Which was when Teddy got all certain and stuff, and before I knew what he was doing, and I think before Dad knew, he was on his knees on the floor between Dad's feet, undoing his belt.
Dad opened his mouth like he was going to object, but he must have wanted it a lot more than he ever let on, like, he must have thought Teddy was hot but just never acted on it, because when Teddy set his hand on Dad's balls, through his trousers and all, he stopped trying to talk and bit his lip and closed his eyes, and two seconds later he was leaning back against the back of the couch with his fingers gripping at the upholstery like he'd never felt anything so good.
Course, since I completely refuse to imagine my mother blowing my father, and since Teddy obviously loves to give head--holy fuck, I don't think I've ever seen anyone so eager--maybe he hadn't. I know if it had been me, I'd have shot my load in about three seconds, and don't even say it, I've had some amazing blow jobs, thanks, so it's not a matter of inexperience.
Oh, fuck you, maybe I've had your Aunt Gabrielle on her knees, for all you know. She's certainly sucked off half of wizarddom, or at least half of those under fifty. And was that an offer to improve what you think is my poor sad sex life? Because I can finish this story later, you know.
Oh, please, I'd make it worth your while. But as I was saying, there was Dad all whimpering and shoving at his trousers in this sort of desperate dirty way, and Teddy doing his best to suck the fucking life out of him, and me trying to work out whether it's actually possible to explode from not making any noise watching this. I don't have a definite answer on that, but I'm leaning toward no since I don't know how there could have been any more pressure. And then finally Teddy sat back on his feet and looked up, lips all wet and swollen, and Dad stopped stammering--finally!--and lifted up to shove his trousers down out of the way and off.
This would be the point at which I nearly swallowed my tongue because even in that state, he'd certainly have noticed if his cuff had hit nothingness in the air, but it landed, like, an inch short of the cloak. By the time I'd recovered from the shock, he'd dragged Teddy up on top of him and I've never seen anyone so bad at actually unbuttoning someone else's flies, but Teddy didn't seem to care, rocking and gulping down little moans--yeah, like that. And at some point Dad's glasses went flying and I don't even know what happened to rip Teddy's sleeve open, but I didn't really care, because they looked like they were trying their best to actually swallow each other whole, teeth hitting and Dad's lip bleeding and noses in the way, Christ.
Yeah, pass that bottle; I'm never going to survive telling this. Fuck.
Jesus, Vic, you can't squirm like that. Not. Helping.
Anyway, so just about the time I thought for sure they were both on the ragged edge, coming any second, Dad shoved Teddy off him and shoved his jeans down--caught his thumbnail and pretty much tore a strip off Teddy's arse, which, he went all soft, trying to kiss it better or something, but Teddy wasn't having any of that. The softness, I mean. The kissing of his arse, yes, that he was having. On his hands and knees on the couch. Draped over the far end, arse wide open for viewing. And for kissing, and licking, and all sorts of suction and wet sounds which I didn't know how either of them didn't die of the noises, much less anything else.
This would be the point at which I said fuck being still and clamped a hand down hard on my sac, like, almost hard enough to make me shout from oh fuck ow, because I was pretty sure I wasn't going to come quietly and if I didn't take drastic action it was going to be a big problem very soon.
And then Dad got up and--hey, did you know there are different lube charms? I mean, the one he used isn't the one I know. And anyway, he was all done being soft, definitely, which was just as well because Teddy was all panting and begging, and Dad… Fuck, just, not gentle. Not gentle at all, fucking into him and pushing him against the arm of the couch, arse all flexing like mad, sweat dripping down off his back between his arse cheeks.
The not being gentle was kind of funny, actually, because they were both singing each other's praises about fucking harder, fucking faster, that sort of thing, but Dad kept apologizing for wanting him like this and sorry for needing to go harder, and given Teddy was shoving back onto him like a fucking machine, practically knocking him away, it was obviously unnecessary. And of course they were on the bloody couch, so they had to keep stopping every couple of seconds to shift around, right? Dad bracing one foot on the floor, balls hanging down and slapping against Teddy's, and then shift a different way and fuck some more, you know?
Of course, that couldn't go on forever, though Christ, I could have watched forever. But then there was Teddy, squirting all over the upholstery and Dad lifting up his hips higher and just driving into him like he'd die if he didn't fill him up immediately.
This would be the point at which I made a mess of my pants.
What, I said I was basically putting myself in his place, and he was coming.
Also, I have never heard him use about eighty percent of the words that came out of his mouth while he was doing so. Merlin. It was like compressing Uncle Charlie's vocabulary until all the regular words got squeezed out, and then stringing out what was left into long worshipful syllables of bliss.
Anyway, and then they cuddled, which was boring, but I couldn't go anywhere without drawing attention, which sucked, because yeah, sticky. But finally Dad decided a young thing like Teddy must be wanting more, and while he was busy lavishing way more attention than was strictly necessary on every square centimeter of Teddy's balls, I made my getaway.
Remembered not to squeak on the steps, too, though. I mean, he must have done a Muffling Charm because halfway up all those filthy sounds stopped dead, so it probably didn't matter much, but I thought my presence of mind was impressive.
Went upstairs, put the cloak away, got cleaned up, and took my broom out the window.
No, that wasn't a metaphor. Honestly. You really think at this point in this particular narrative, I'm going to go all euphemistic? No. I got out my old Firebolt, opened my window, and went over the hill to see if Malcolm McDougal was up for a tumble. Dad might be too old to get it up again, but that's no reason for me to abstain, now, is it? Anyway. Came back around two all shagged out only to spot Teddy just leaving. And walking funny.
And then about three weeks later, Dad sat us kids all down for a Very Important Talk because Dad being Dad and Teddy being Teddy, they took it all very seriously indeed and wanted to make it official that they were seeing each other and it was a Relationship and it was not at all any sort of mid-life crisis or fling and were we comfortable with the notion of them--you know how they can be..
Considering Lils had caught them snogging twice in the interim, and even Jamie, and you know how oblivious he can be, had already gone in while they were out and charmed padding onto the bloody bedposts, it wasn't nearly as much of a shock as Dad anticipated.
And the rest, as the story goes, is history. Vows, cake, whisky, and here we are up in the tree house reliving the early moments of their courtship. God, what time is it? Mum's probably going to have a whole litter of cheerful calico kittens if I stay much longer, but, eh.
Of course it's a true story. What, you think I'm trying to get in your pants? More than usual, I mean. And my method is to tell you about my dad's cock?
…Would that work?
No, of course it's true. Hundred percent. I'd never lie to you, Vic.