|yule_balls_mod (yule_balls_mod) wrote in hp_yule_balls,|
@ 2008-12-12 00:10:00
|Entry tags:||2008, character: albus potter, character: scorpius malfoy, fic, pairing: albus/scorpius|
Fic: Eternity With You (Albus/Scorpius, NC-17) for okydoky
Title: Eternity With You
Rating: Hard R, bordering on NC-17
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary: Sometimes the death of a loved one is hard to accept even after a year. For Al it becomes easy after only two weeks.
Warnings: Aside from the smex? Not really. Unless rimming squeaks you…Also, highlight to read: *Vampire fic*
Word Count: 2,500 words
Author's Notes: okydoky, I’ve tried my best to include your kinks and prompts here. Dunno if I succeeded, considering I wasn’t entirely comfortable with some stuff, but I’ve given it everything and I really do hope it shows.
Eternity With You
“I’m sorry, what?”
The question was sharp, the tone both demanding and weak at the same time.
Al looked up, as though praying for some help from above. The skies failed to grant him any semblance of assistance, and his body curled into itself, small and defeated, much too young and vulnerable.
“Look at me,” the voice of his lover pressed, and Albus squeezed his eyes shut against the painful image in front of him, turning his head to the side and silently praying for forgiveness.
His voice nearly shook, but he pressed on: “I’m in love with someone else. I can’t… I can’t go on seeing you,” Al forced out.
Marcus sat heavily on the cream-colored sofa, running a hand through his dark hair, looking anywhere but at Al. Al couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have looked at himself either, were he in Mars’ position.
“Mars,” Al tried, his throat tight and dry.
Marcus lifted a hand, silencing him. Albus stopped, green eyes pleading.
“This is goodbye, then,” said Marcus resolutely, getting up and walking towards the door, pausing beside Al and looking at him with deep, understanding brown eyes, and Al nodded, because it really was goodbye.
Mars nodded too, kissed his temple and walked away, never turning once to look back, because there was nothing left to look back at.
Albus waited for the sound of the door closing, body shaken by silent sobs before he collapsed on the armchair once again, motionlessly, hugging himself and looking down and darkness descended over him.
It was only then that he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the stage and allowed the others to replace the used setting, as the applause on the other side continued filling the air.
A forced smile graced his lips as Mars popped in. “Oi, next time, keep it short on the waterworks! I could have been in danger of drowning out there,” he called after Al who flipped him the bird before continuing on his way, Mars’ laugh following his path.
He skidded to a halt only outside the theatre, in the back alley, breathing in the crisp December air and allowed himself to be proud for a moment. He’d done well tonight. Better than he –or anyone else- had expected.
He looked at the pavement and ignored the sound of the door opening and closing with a dull thud behind him. A warm hand clasped his shoulder and squeezed it awkwardly and Al knew it was supposed to be reassuring. He took comfort in the kind gesture.
“He would have been proud of you,” said Mr. Malfoy in a soft voice that barely concealed the pain and hurt behind the words.
Al didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’? ‘He would have’? ‘I’m not sure’? He shrugged, a little bit self-consciously and whispered: “I thought I saw him tonight.”
Mr. Malfoy’s hand flew off his shoulder as though burned. Al regretted having said anything and closed his eyes against the outside world and wished –not for the first time in the past two weeks- that he were dead.
He listened to Draco’s footfalls as they departed, drawing further and further away from him before stopping briefly. Al thought he heard Mr. Malfoy say ‘I thought I saw him too’, but he couldn’t be sure and he didn’t want to turn around and ask. He couldn’t allow himself to hope that maybe it wasn’t just his imagination making him see Scorpius – that maybe he was alive somehow.
With a heavy sigh he pulled out his wand, paused, turned on his heel and Apparated away with a crack that resounded sharply in the silence and stillness of the alley.
Al sighed as lukewarm water cascaded down his body. Score always had teased him about his showering habits.
‘How can you stand that water? It’s barely warm, for crying out loud?’ Scorpius would say and Al would laugh at him and tell him that it’s better than coming out of his showers looking for all the world like a badly boiled lobster. Score would then huff indignantly and demand make up sex on the spot to which Al would gladly and readily comply.
Albus smiled a small, sad smile, more of a grimace than anything else, and turned off the water, feeling clean, but empty and desolate and lost – adrift in a way that he hadn’t felt ever since he’d realized he was gay. Score had helped him with that. He had stuck by his side and often took his hand and guided him, offering comfort in his seemingly cold way. And Al had to remind himself now that Score wouldn’t be guiding him anymore because he was dead.
Albus felt his throat constrict as he toweled himself dry.
Scorpius was dead because of a stupid Muggle explosion that had occurred in the building he’d been living in. His body was never found, but authorities of both Muggle and Wizarding kind had declared him deceased and a small funeral was held during which an empty coffin was placed in the ground.
Al found the whole thing ridiculous even now. Mrs. Greengrass said it would offer closure. Al couldn’t relate to that and he knew, deep down, that Scorpius’ mother didn’t think that either.
He slid into a green bathrobe and shook his head in a vain attempt at clearing it. His thoughts jumbled up and mixed and Al was satisfied that he needn’t focus on one thing for now.
He sighed and exited the bathroom, eyes downcast and tired, trying not to think of anything.
“You were great tonight.”
The familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks, his hand frozen halfway to the bridge of his nose where a headache was building slowly, heavy stone by heavy stone. “Score,” he breathed and his breath hitched.
He didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare move. His muscles locked together, tension building like his headache, making him shake and shiver and want to hit something. But he still couldn’t move.
“Yes,” came the slow, slightly smug reply, closer to him this time.
Spider-like fingers touched his cheek and Al still didn’t move voluntarily. His body shook harder, though, jolt after jolt of ice-cold electricity flowing though his veins, making him hot and cold at the same time. The hand was so cold… Like frozen marble.
“You’re dead,” Albus choked out, hating the way his voice caught and how his eyes burned. But most of all, he hated the finality of his tone because it made things permanent and irreversible.
Scorpius laughed, though Al couldn’t tell if it was genuine or bitter. “That I am,” he agreed and Al decided it was a little bit of both. “See?” He took Al’s hand and pressed it to his chest, right above the heart… His unbeating heart.
Albus’ eyes flew open and for the first time in two weeks, emerald green clashed with ash grey. For one blissful second, all was right in the world again. His life felt like it was starting to rebuild itself -- reborn like a baby Phoenix, unsure of the world, but stronger than last time.
But the spell had to break and Al had to know: “How?”
Scorpius’ lip twitched at the corner, almost as if he wanted to smile, but unsure in his stance. He opened his mouth, though and Al’s gaze zeroed in on a pair of pearly white fangs and he hated himself then because he didn’t know whether to feel sorry things had taken this sudden turn, or be glad for it because now he wouldn’t be alone anymore. Wouldn’t be adrift.
Slowly, he reached out with trembling fingers and touched one elongated canine, questions running through his mind with such speed it made him dizzy. It happened without his conscious consent after that. His hands trailed each and every feature of Scorpius’ face and of Scorpius’ body, burning them into his memory again and matching them to the old ones.
Al kissed him. Hard and fast and urgent, trying out the taste and ignoring the shallow cut in his tongue after grazing it against Score’s fangs. It wasn’t the most gracious or best of kisses, but it was like water to a man who spent days in the dessert: heaven.
Al stumbled backwards under Score’s insistent pushing and let out a sharp gasp as his back hit the wall, making him arch into Score’s touch and rub his groin against a leather-clad leg. He moaned lowly, flinching as cold hands touched his chest, trailing downwards towards the tie on his bathrobe.
He moaned louder when Scorpius’ lips left his and trailed kisses on his neck alternating between small, delicate nips and harsh bites that made his head spin and his body ache for more. The bathrobe was falling from his shoulders, exposing his skin and making him shiver under the coldness of Score’s touch and yet he yearned for the contact. Needed more because that very touch was what kept him going for so long.
Al felt like he was floating and being grounded at the same time. He was somewhere above himself, riding a wave of sizzling pleasure, acutely aware of Score’s mouth around him. He was shivering, holding back and letting go in what was supposed to be a confusing turmoil of emotions and thoughts, but was actually instinctual and comforting in a way that only Score made him feel.
But then Score’s hot mouth was gone. Al’s brain was shouting something distinctly blasphemous and Al wanted to protest himself when his hips were gripped tightly and forcefully turned and pulled outwards, making Al feel exposed and not entirely comfortable. But then his body tensed up in anticipation when Score’s hand parted his buttocks and hot air blew over his entrance. Al’s eyes literally rolled in the back of his head when his lover’s tongue flicked over and circled his puckered hole.
“Shit!” he cursed and struck his head against the wall, fingers clawing at the paint in an attempt at controlling himself.
It was like Al’s entire reality was dissolving and reshaping itself around the feel of Score’s tongue inside of him, breaching him rhythmically. It was only a while later that he realized he was babbling and begging: “Please, please, pleaseohplease, Score, please… Fuck me, fuck me, please!”
And then Scorpius was pressing his body against his back, still clad in leather trousers and a tight black shirt that rubbed against Al’s skin tauntingly, denying him any sort of skin-to-skin contact.
“Tell me what you want,” Score demanded, low, and his voice sent a jolt straight to Al’s cock.
There was the lust Al had missed so much, the underlined possessiveness and the undertones of slight aggression that made Scorpius a fantastic lover in bed. And then there was, of course, the love and tenderness that Score bestowed on him and him only. It made Al want to cry out in joy, made him want to act like an insane lunatic.
Fingers pulling sharply at his hair reminded him that he would most likely be screaming soon, though for an entirely different reason. “Tell me. Tell me what you want, Albus Severus.”
“You,” Al gasped, pushing his arse backwards invitingly. “I want you to take out your cock and ram it inside of me. I want you for fuck me until I forger my name - until I scream and come and feel whole again…”
To Albus it didn’t matter that he was begging like a whore. He’d achieved his goal. He heard Score’s breath catch and heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone and then Score’s cock was teasing his entrance and Al wanted to scream ‘get a move on, already!’. And Scorpius did… get a move on.
His cock penetrated Al in one sleek, practiced move and Al had to wonder, briefly, when had Scorpius gotten them both lubed. But then it didn’t matter anymore, because Score was pounding into him, whispering filthy words in his ear and intertwining their fingers against the dark green wall in a gesture of intimate affection.
Al was soaring upwards, higher and higher, uncaring about the screams that were torn from his very being because everything was as it should have been and Score was hitting his prostate over and over and over again.
Al’s breath caught for a brief moment and then he let it out with a loud moan, ribbons of white painting the wall and bright swirls of light dancing before his eyes while Score’s own release filled him and completed him.
Al suspected he had blackened out at some point.
He couldn’t remember having made it to the bed. He’d had the most vivid dream, though… A sad smile quirked his lips as he though of it… of how Score had taken him, gentler than usual, against the bedroom wall.
A chuckle beside him made Al freeze. “I know I’m made out of dream stuff, but ignoring my existence and passing it up as a figure of your imagination is a bit rude, don’t you think?”
Al turned his head slowly, carefully, and his breath hitched while his eyes widened. “It wasn’t…”
“A dream?” Score asked with amusement streaking his voice. He shook his head and ran long, pale fingers through Al’s shock of ruby red hair. “No, it wasn’t.”
He smiled a fangy smile and Al relaxed, offering a slow sweet smile of his own, eyes closed in an expression of contentment.
They stood like that, silently, just holding each other and feeling reassured by their presence. “How were you turned,” Al asked suddenly, biting his lip and hoping he hadn’t overstepped his bounds.
Score kissed his temple reassuringly. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t remember much. I remember coming to see you and stopping by a shop to buy you something… And then nothing. My Sire said he hadn’t meant for it to happen. He said he’d been desperate for blood and the Thirst overtook his senses. He turned me once he’d realized what he’d done.”
Al was silent for a moment, processing the information. “Who’s your Sire?”
Score smirked. “Oh, just some bloke that goes by the name of Hugo Weasley.”
Al sat silently, not knowing how to react to this tidbit of information. His 18 year old cousin had been a vampire for months, but he’d never had a problem with it. He didn’t even know if he was having a problem with it now.
“What did you buy me?” he questioned, refusing to think about what he felt about his cousin. He watched curiously as Score’s smile faltered for the first time, and was intrigued.
Score reached to his neck and pulled out a golden band which dangled from a simple golden chain. “I was… I was going to ask you to bond with me.”
Time stood still and Al slowly took the ring from his lover, turning it over in his fingers and frowning at the inscription. “What does it say?”
Score looked away and, biting his lip, he whispered: “Eternity with you.”
Al’s breath caught and a single word made its way past his lips, spoken like a sweet promise: “Yes.”
Click here to comment on livejournal.