Gellert groaned again when Albus's fingers curled around his cock, the sound curling around the barely-recognisable syllables of Albus's name. The noise was caught by Albus's lips, and Albus's teeth, Gellert's scalp still stinging from the rough grasp of Albus's hands in his hair.
Gellert had not yet had much cause to truly appreciate his own prodigious skill at Occlumency. There was, after all, not much call for it at Durmstrang. One day he would come to appreciate the fact that his barriers were unbreakable, when he had Albus sifting through his mind scarcely three months into his own future. The safety of knowing that even Albus did not realise just how skilled Gellert was at the art, in contrast to his faltering Legilimency. He did not realise that one day he would want to bring Albus into his mind, making sex into something intimate.
It did not occur to him that even now, had Albus requested it of him, Gellert would have said 'yes.' Would have unlocked his mind, weakened the lesser wards, and let him in.
Instead there was just sex, and the knowledge that Gellert had which Albus did not -- that it would never happen again. There would be no need, after this. If anything, there would just be the need to drag it out further, letting Albus hate the newly-vivid contrast between celibacy and what Gellert had to offer. But Gellert would not offer it again. Let Albus want it -- let him starve for it, die for it. Gellert knew how to drive a man mad with lust, and sex was the last tool to use in that arsenal.
Gellert could feel himself drawing closer. But not as close as Albus, he was sure. It would be delicious, having Albus come first, and then turning around to twist his fingers in Albus's own hair and push him down to his knees. Albus's pride be damned, Gellert would see him kneel at his feet and practically beg to be allowed to take Gellert's cock into his mouth. It would be a blissful symmetry, after all Albus's moralities, his attempts to deny Gellert in this place.