Hello there dear readers,

title: The Truth
author's notes: Some more smut~! I thought it was about time. The last couple of chapters have been a bit devoid of it, nay?

Enjoy!

Black Silk

Charlie awoke lazily to the sound of birds twittering fitfully outside the window and when he blinked his eyes open the sun streamed in. This didn't set him on edge, because now it was March the sun had just about risen by the time the students had to be up and down to breakfast. What did set him on edge was the window itself. Or windows themselves, even, for there were several placed in the wall, joined together to create one long line of black-framed glass. This was not the boys' dormitory.

Instead of panicking, Charlie took it in his stride. Looking to his right, where he now identified a source of heat, he momentarily started at seeing that it was Manfred, but then relaxed. Of course. Their agreement last night. It had worked! Charlie grinned; he had been able to sleep well again.

Manfred appeared to still be asleep so Charlie turned on his side to observe his cousin. The arm that had been lying over Charlie's chest now moved subconsciously to his back. Without his eyes open Manfred looked deceptively harmless, even though Charlie knew that the head boy had no power over him as far as hypnotism was concerned even when he was awake. But the stress of eighteen years living under the harsh rule of his father had taken toll; there were already faint lines etched into the young man's forehead and his lips naturally curved downwards at the sides through habit. Charlie couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

Reaching a tentative hand forward, the younger boy lightly touched Manfred's hair. It always seemed to look greasy, but Charlie was surprised to find that it felt normal. Perhaps the shine was just a natural one. Or maybe Manfred used too much conditioner. Charlie had to admit that he wasn't very good with hair products.

Something subtly changed in the young man's face and Charlie realised that he was waking up. He quickly withdrew his hand and placed it on the thin strip of mattress between them. Manfred's fingers twitched on Charlie's back and then his eyes opened a slit, glaring at the younger boy. Realisation dawned and Manfred closed his eyes again and rolled onto his back, right hand slipping off of Charlie completely.

'Manfred,' Charlie whispered softly, moving a bit closer and glancing at the window again. He was glad that he hadn't received as violent a reaction as last time from the older boy. 'What time is it?'

'Time to shut up, Bone.' The words were too sleepy to be insulting.

Charlie dithered. What would Fidelio think if he woke up to find the bed next to his empty? What excuse could he give if he was late to class? Worse still, what would he do if he missed breakfast?

Manfred opened one eye to gaze at Charlie, trying to guess what he was thinking. 'Come back to sleep,' he finally demanded, reaching out to pull Charlie on top of him. A note of surprise escaping him, Charlie found himself sprawled half-on, half-off Manfred's silk-covered chest. The older boy chuckled faintly and wrapped an arm around Charlie to keep him there, eyes closed again.

Charlie shifted to get more comfortable and then resigned himself to staying in the bed. He couldn't sleep though now he had woken and, bored, he fingered the silk of Manfred's top. The head boy's pyjamas matched the bedsheets in both feel and colour. Charlie's were just blue, striped cotton, but then the Bloors were much, much richer than the Bones.

With a barely audible sigh Charlie began to trace patterns in the silk, eyes following his left index finger and the trails it left behind it. It was almost fun, and he forgot that Manfred's chest was just below the flimsy material. The head boy's breathing changed, became shallower.

The arm holding Charlie in place slid across his back so that Manfred's left hand could make his own patterns in the blue fabric. These were not so aimless. They were letters; D, O, N, T, S, T, O, P.

Charlie paused to concentrate on what Manfred was writing, and then obediently continued to run his finger over the sleek fabric. As an experiment, he tried using all the fingers of his left hand to stroke the older boy's side, and pressed harder than before. Manfred's heartbeat quickened, and because Charlie was draped over his cousin's chest he could feel the acceleration. He blushed and stilled his hand.

Protesting with a soft note, Manfred fisted his hand into the back of Charlie's pyjamas and hauled him up so that their faces were level. Charlie couldn't help being impressed; Manfred's arms, whilst skinny, were deceptively strong. The younger boy quickly placed his hands on the head boy's shoulders though to balance himself.

Even half-lidded, Manfred's eyes were intense. Charlie swallowed and found himself moving nearer. This close, he could see that there was something different about the black orbs; thin, silvery lines flamed around the pupil as usual but their circumference was wider than normal. A hand slipped into his untameable mop of hair and Charlie felt himself descend much quicker. Even though he was expecting it, he was still unprepared when their lips met.

Physically remembering their last kiss, Charlie's lips moved against the soft flesh beneath him, eyes closing, and he flushed at the friction. His fingers dug into Manfred's shoulder blades as a tongue pressed against his lips, and he shyly let it through.

Before he really knew how, Charlie was moaning quietly and Manfred had rolled them over so he was on top, his weight pressing Charlie down as his hands roamed possessively. Arching up to press their bodies flush together, Charlie's hands fumbled with the head boy's hair-tie, tugging the black strands free. Manfred pulled a face at this gesture and grunted, but he let it pass and ducked his head down to Charlie's neck as the younger boy ran his fingers through the shoulder-length locks. He'd never seen Manfred with his hair down before.

Sucking at Charlie's pulse point, Manfred undid the top button of his cousin's pyjama top and slid his hands down to the next one as the hands in his hair encouraged his lips back up to the young, open mouth. The kiss was clumsy because he was focusing on unbuttoning but it elicited an appreciative noise all the same. Manfred wondered if he had enough patience to deal with buttons, but just as he was about to tear at the fabric something interrupted him.

Three short, loud bangs. They both froze as their minds hazily traced the origin of the noise to the old wooden door. Another three, smart raps followed and, tongues abruptly separated, their horrified eyes sought each other out. Then Manfred swore, more colourfully than Charlie had expected.

'Manfred!' Dr Bloor's booming voice rang out. 'Manfred, are you in there?'

Still muttering violent curses under his breath, as if it would help somehow, Manfred pinned a frozen Charlie to the mattress with one hand whilst he wiped his mouth with the other and yanked the sheets further up the bed to cover the younger boy.

'Do you know what time it is, boy?' Dr Bloor continued angrily, and then the handle began to turn. Manfred's swearing ceased very quickly as his mouth turned dry. It was a lucky coincidence that he was the one nearest the door, so that when he rolled over to face the ancient oak and propped himself up on one elbow he effectively hid Charlie from sight. But his cheeks were still flushed and his hair a mess.

Manfred's dad entered the room, his face portraying the surprise he felt at the door being unlocked. He would have tried it sooner, had he known.

'Father!' Manfred forced out, trying to keep his breathing as normal as possible. It was not an easy thing to do.

'You're still in bed!' Dr Bloor fumed. 'Do you have any idea what time it is, Manfred?'

Manfred's eyes flicked nervously to the windows, brain whirring fitfully as it attempted to find a plausible escuse. 'S-sorry,' he managed, voice still breathless. He took a few deep breaths as his father's rant continued.

'And just look at you! You're a mess, Manfred, a mess. People noticed your absence this morning and I had to say you were ill. Ill. Like some weak little thing. How could you be so irresponsible? You're a disgrace, that's what you are.'

'I'm sorry, father,' Manfred replied meekly. He wanted to shout at him, to remind him that he had never slept in like this before, never been late due to unrestrained slumber before, but he knew that shouting back never worked. He had been able to out-stare his father up until recently, but now his power was waning and he didn't want his dad to find out. So he took the rebuke. 'I haven't been sleeping well recently, so I tried sleeping pills. I didn't realise they'd be so strong.'

Dr Bloor glared at him, but didn't shout any more. Manfred knew what to say from experience with his father, and luckily being in drama had given him practice at lying through his teeth to a high standard. The headmaster sneered at his son instead; 'It's pathetic that you need to resort to pills. Sort yourself out. I do not want a repeat of this.' He paused for effect, then arched an eyebrow. 'Am I understood, Manfred?'

Holding his father's gaze steadily, Manfred nodded. 'Yes, father.'

With a haughty look, the headmaster turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, leaving the door open. Swiftly, Manfred exited the bed and hastened to shut the door, fumbling with the key to lock it. Then, shaking with relief, he sat down on the floor and rested his back against the aged wood.

Charlie's dishevelled head poked out of the black sheets and for a minute he just lay there, watching his cousin shivering. Then he forced himself to move, suitably recovered from the shock of being interrupted. Needless to say his arousal had fled due to his fear, and Manfred's appeared to have done the same.

Sitting up and re-buttoning his top, Charlie slipped out of the bed and then remembered his slippers. It was a small miracle that Dr Bloor hadn't spotted them as they were placed next to the bed and easily within sight from the door. Another wave of relief washed through him as he pulled them on and shuffled over to the door. Manfred gave him a quick glance and then hugged himself, digging his fingers into his upper-arms to stop himself from trembling. It was humiliating, to be shouted at by his father in 'public'.

Guessing that Manfred was annoyed at how pathetic he looked, Charlie wasn't sure what to do. He looked away from the head boy, awkwardly standing nearby, and after another couple of minutes he heard the older boy stand up.

'You'd better go,' Manfred murmured. Charlie couldn't tell whether there was regret in the tone, although he realised that he was searching for it.

'OK.' He wanted to know what time it was, where he was supposed to go, but then he remembered that he'd left his watch by his bed and since he'd have to change clothes before going anywhere else he could check the time when he got back to the dormitory.

Manfred unlocked the door and drifted away, but then stopped, frowned. 'Wait. You'll need a note.'

Charlie obediently hesitated in the doorway as Manfred briskly walked to his desk and scribbled something on a small piece of paper. When he turned around he had more purpose in him and looked a bit brighter, more full of self-possession than before. Charlie was glad on his behalf and braved a timid smile as he took the paper.

Manfred's lips twitched awkwardly in reply, and then Charlie turned around and hurried away from the West wing.

End of Chapter Ten!

Ehe, so what did you think? Sorry I had Dr Bloor interrupt it, I'm such a tease..

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. It's great to hear that you're enjoying it!

~WfCP x