We should leave.

Albus stood immobile with his arms crossed, his breath fogging up the windowpane as he thought of Gellert. The dust-covered glass had grown opaque and almost impossible to see through. He didn't need to actually see what was out there; he was waiting for a signal he knew he could recognize with his eyes closed.

He exhaled yet again, then drew a symbol on the fogged-up window. Each line brought forth an equally exhilarating, yet entirely different feeling, his last conversation with Gellert still fresh in his mind. He could see the little house on the other side of the dirt road in its entirety by peeking through the horizontal line he had drawn on the damp window, directly in the middle of the triangular symbol.

He frowned, wondering how such a tiny house could contain so much magic—so much raw power within—without bursting into flames and announcing to the world that someone magnificent dwelled within its rackety walls, ready to change the world.

Suddenly, Albus wanted to laugh. The fact that he, and he alone knew of the brilliance, the importance of the wizard who inhabited that house just across the street… finally, an equal, that nobody but him knew about. He let out a weak snort and shook his head. It made him feel special, more so than before, and that was saying something.

He wondered if his house gave off the same feeling when looked upon through the windows of the Bagshot house. Somehow, he'd never looked out towards his own house in the few occasions he'd been there. What did Gellert think when he gazed up at the Dumbledore house from his room? Did he ever?

His ears perked up as he caught the distant sucking sound he'd been waiting for, just as a weak green light momentarily illuminated the first floor of the house across the road.

Finally.

His breath caught in his throat as he anticipated his next move. He had barely closed his eyes when he felt his feet leave the floor. When he opened them again, he was standing in the middle of Bathilda Bagshot's tiny living room. He caught a final glimpse of emerald in the fire as it turned back to orange, the smell of floo powder thick in the air.

"That was quick," said Gellert, his face arranged into an ironic smile. He was leaning against the mantel, barely a few feet away from where Albus had just apparated.

Albus turned away from him if only to hide his embarrassment. This wasn't the first time Gellert had said those very words to him, and the memory made him flare up like phoenix.

He took a few steps towards the window, from where he could see his own house. In his embarrassment, he'd forgotten why he wanted to look at it from Gellert's viewpoint. Then it came to him. The Dumbledore house was twice as large, built to accommodate a family of five. However, it didn't look like it held mysterious wonders within, the way Bathilda's house did. While the Bagshot house looked like it was a spark away from setting the entire village on fire, the Dumbledore house looked entirely lifeless, as if about to crumble from neglect. This defunct house, with its dark windows and silent rooms—well, he couldn't wait to get as far away from it as possible.

He heard Gellert's footsteps approaching, but Albus decided against turning around, the tension in his limbs working to root him where he stood. Gellert's words from their last conversation resounded in his mind.

We should leave.

"It's rude to apparate into someone's living room, you know?" Gellert whispered, so close that Albus could feel his breath on the shell of his ear. His voice was light, playful, an occurrence that had become increasingly common as of late.

"You do it."

"Yes, but I'm me," Gellert replied with a quiet chuckle.

"Would you say my house looks special?" Albus asked all of a sudden. He spotted his bedroom window, which bore no signs of fog whatsoever.

Albus felt Gellert's arms snake past his waist, his hands coming to rest upon the windowsill. He stiffened momentarily as Gellert leaned forward, pressing his chest to Albus's back. Physical contact between them had only been a very recent development, one Albus was still not entirely accustomed to, despite how fervently he had longed for it.

"Your house?" asked Gellert, sounding as if he'd never dwelled on anything more thought-inducing, and yet he did not turn to look at it. Instead, he dipped his nose into the crook of Albus's neck and inhaled. Albus looked down at Gellert's hands on the windowsill as they drew themselves into fists.

"My house," Albus added in a whisper. The words tasted foul in his mouth. His house, indeed. His prison. One he would be leaving shortly and for good. With him.

"No," Gellert replied as he inhaled Albus's scent. "All houses look the same."

Albus took a deep breath and relaxed into Gellert's arms, drawing comfort from Gellert's voice. Yet, he disagreed on that particular point. Not all houses looked the same.

"Yours doesn't."

"Is that so?"

Albus didn't reply. The tip of Gellert's nose felt like an ice cube against his neck. Gellert was in one of his playful moods. At times like these, Albus found it impossible to believe he'd been expelled from his previous school. Not him. Not this brilliant, heedless boy who would change the world. He took a sharp intake of breath as Gellert's hands moved from the windowsill to his hips.

"I'd been back for all but two seconds when you decided to pop in," he whispered, his breath hot against Albus's ear, "and all you care to do is ask about your house?" He wrapped his arms around Albus's waist, pulling him flush against his chest. "And here I thought you'd be more pleased to see me."

Albus allowed himself a faint smile. He lowered his palms over the back of Gellert's hands, still flat against his stomach, and turned his neck ever so slightly. He caught Gellert's brown eye first, peeking behind a curtain of golden hair. He tilted his head back further, until he was able to see Gellert's bright blue eye as well.

"I certainly am," said Albus. He could feel Gellert's breath against his lips, but he did not inch any closer. Instead, he turned back to the window, raised a hand and pointed straight at his house. "I stood by that window for three hours, you know. Waiting for you to come back."

Gellert finally did him the courtesy of looking at his house, which he had ignored throughout their brief conversation. With a sudden burst of energy, Gellert tightened his grip around Albus's waist, pressed their cheeks together—Albus could feel him smiling wildly—and spun him around once.

The entirely new gesture sent a bolt of electricity up Albus's spine as Gellert's laughter filled the room.

"Three hours, huh," Gellert repeated, sounding impressed. He gathered Albus in his arms once again and squeezed him, as if attempting to absorb him through his chest.

Albus laughed awkwardly. He'd only known Gellert to be this affectionate in two other particular occasions, and those had wound up being the most mind-shattering experiences of his life. He found the thought of a repeat positively terrifying and exhilarating.

Once he set him back down, Gellert's grasp relaxed around Albus's waist. With one final, weak chuckle, he drew his hands down the expanse of Albus's abdomen, the tips of his fingers fluttering past the front of his trousers.

Albus froze, inhaling sharply.

"That eager, huh?" Gellert whispered. He palmed the sensitive area, drawing his hand up and down, holding Albus steady around the waist with his other hand.

Albus closed his eyes. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"I didn't mean to be gone that long. She.. insisted I stayed for a while." Gellert said.

It didn't sound like an apology. It certainly wasn't an apology—that wasn't something Gellert ever did. Yet the mere statement made Albus's chest heave with suppressed joy. He'd meant to escort his aunt to a private event, celebrating the anniversary of one of her books. He should have come straight back, and yet he hadn't. Albus had counted the minutes. His breath caught in his throat as Gellert cupped his crotch.

"And you waited by the window. You and your window," Gellert said through gritted teeth, an edge of danger to his voice. "I know all about your bloody window."

Albus swallowed, feeling suddenly light-headed. Even though he couldn't see him, he knew Gellert was looking at his house.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Gellert whispered, speaking directly into Albus's ear, then licking the shell of his ear. "Three hours is nothing. I've waited longer."

The room had suddenly become suffocating, and it had nothing to do with the weather outside, or the tiny hearth that served the sole purpose of allowing for floo transportation, and therefore gave no warmth whatsoever.

The heat was coming from him. Or could it have been them?

Distantly, Albus wondered if the house would appear any different to anyone who happened to be walking past at this particular moment. Whether anyone would perhaps consider casting a preventive spell in case the place caught on fire due to all the heat it surely must have been emanating.

As he continued to caress the front of Albus's trousers, Geller began to grind against him from behind. Albus could feel the bulge against his lower back, and it was a greater source of heat than anything else Albus had ever encountered in his life, and he'd once taken an academic dip in a puddle of dragon's blood.

Perhaps it was because it was broad daylight, or they were in Bathilda's living room, but the idea that they were doing this, here, right now, made Albus suddenly fear spontaneous combustion. He'd seen that happen, too.

His jaw fell slack, and he heard himself moan at the ministrations. He placed his hand over Gellert's, adding pressure and guiding him where he wanted him to go.

"Quiet today, aren't we?" Gellert teased. "That's a first."

"What is there to say?" Albus replied in a voice he had never heard before. He pressed down on Gellert's hand, who took the cue and wrapped his long fingers around Albus's length, tracing its silhouette over his trousers.

What was there to say? They'd kissed before. They'd embraced in the darkness of Albus's bedroom. They'd brought each other over the edge—twice, in fact. By the looks of it, they were going for round three, and Albus was not about to break the spell. The thought sent his mind reeling. For the first time in his life, he absolutely feared his lungs would blow up and carry him away into the horizon—an embarrassing feat he'd seen happen more than once at school.

He was hard as a rock now, and so was Gellert behind him. He tried to turn his head but Gellert held him steady, then positively thrust into him. Had they been naked, they might have just gone a step further than ever before.

"Gn—" Albus exclaimed in surprise, which only made Gellert chuckle. His laughter was a low grumble, dangerous and feral. Albus could picture Gellert's mismatched eyes glinting like a wild animal's as he pleasured himself against his backside.

"This is what you came here for, isn't it?" Gellert hissed between small thrusts. His right hand purposefully cupped Albus's bulge, embarrassingly tight against his trousers, his fingers digging into its sides.

He could have lied. It would have been easy.

"Yes," Albus said instead, and there was a lot more conviction there than just a few minutes before. Why should he lie, when Gellert was just as eager, just as willing?

He could feel Gellert smiling as he pressed their faces together.

"Good boy," he said as he placed his lips on Albus's cheek and licked a trail down his jaw.

Albus laughed. Of all times and places, this was the moment Gellert had chosen to reward him with some positive feedback. Under different circumstances, he would have found him condescending. Now, the words made him want to prove Gellert wrong. He retracted his right hand back into his sleeve, touched his fingers to his wand and undid his trousers without having to work any of the buttons himself. His hard cock fell out of the opening instantly, and Albus could have sworn that for a second there, Gellert's hands faltered. He'd done it. He'd surprised him.

"I figured you might need some help there," Albus teased, gathering Gellert's hand in his and placing it back on his cock. This time, Gellert's fingers wrapped around his length with renewed conviction.

"I knew it," Gellert whispered, squeezing him hard. He set on a steady rhythm, and Albus felt no need to conceal his rapture any longer. He allowed his head to fall back on Gellert's shoulder and let out a long moan.

Albus's hands fell to his sides momentarily, as he enjoyed the feeling of Gellert working his cock and thrusting against him from behind. Hesitantly, Albus raised his hands and dug his fingers into Gellert's hair.

Peeking out the window through half-lidded eyes, he fancied the entire room had disappeared. What with his arms well over his head, it was almost as if he were free-falling from Hogwart's north tower.

Gellert's breathing was hot against his ear, shallow and fast-paced. Each thrust had Albus fearing he might wound up colliding against the window sill, but he trusted Gellert's arm around his waist, keeping him steady so he could pound into him.

For a fleeting second, Albus considered turning around, perhaps reciprocating Gellert in some fashion, but he quickly decided against it. The fact that they were doing this by the window was an entirely new thrill. They had the house to themselves, yes, but by looking out onto the empty road, his empty house just across the street—it made it seem as if they had the entire world to themselves.

Which was the case, he reminded himself.

Blindly, wantonly, he allowed Gellert to drive him close to the edge, until he felt his abdomen spasming with pent-up pleasure, forcing him to arch forward. At this rate, he would end up finishing embarrassingly fast, a thought he found intolerable.

Behind him, Gellert chuckled. "I know what you're thinking," he panted quietly. "Put it out of your mind. This is my wish."

With that, Gellert's other hand cupped Albus's testicles and squeezed gently.

Albus let out his loudest moan yet. He clasped his hands around Gellert's wrists to slow him down, but the man wouldn't stop his relenting ministrations.

"Shh," he whispered into Albus's ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth for a moment. "Let me, Albus. I want this, I will not repeat myself."

Albus closed his eyes, then grabbed onto the windowsill for balance. Gellert began to time his thrusts with his pumps, slow but firm. A white-hot ball of light seemed to form in the pit of Albus's stomach, sending a tingling sensation down his thighs and up his back. He was close, he was so close.

He wanted to say something, but what? These last few weeks with Gellert had shown him that even he, Albus Dumbledore, could be rendered at loss for words from time to time.

"Look up," Gellert suddenly commanded, tugging hard on Albus's cock. "You wanted me to look at your house. Look at it. What do you see?" he asked. His voice was raspy, and there was an edge of frustration to it, as if he were trying to contain his anger.

Albus looked up—his house was barely recognizable through the waves of pleasure that rippled through him with each stroke of his cock.

"I see it," he managed to say, barely able to hear himself.

"Dull, isn't it?" Gellert asked, tugging at Albus's balls.

"Yes," Albus moaned back, biting down on his lower lip.

"Ordinary, isn't it?" he asked again, thrusting hard against his ass, then grinding slowly as he moaned into Albus's neck.

"Yes," Albus replied, his vision blurry, his cock about to explode. The spasms in his abdomen began to grow increasingly close to each other, his scalp tingled. "Gellert, I'm going—"

"You want to know why it looks like that, Albus?" he panted, coming to a stop squeezing Albus's cock. "You want me to tell you?" He rolled his tongue across Albus's neck, then dug his teeth into his jaw.

"Yes," Albus replied, his voice an octave higher as Gellert's grasp slowed the blood flow into his cock, building up the pressure.

"Because," Gellert said with a dangerous chuckle. His hands stopped momentarily, and there it was. The sound of buttons being undone, a low moan, and Gellert's erect, naked cock fell against Albus's backside. It was all Albus could do not to come right there, but he wouldn't—not without Gellert's hand around him. There was a sudden tearing sound, and Albus's shirt fell over his shoulders, magically torn from behind.

"Ah," Albus exclaimed as he felt Gellert bestow an open-mouthed kiss between his shoulder blades. He tugged Albus's trousers halfway down his ass cheeks and began to masturbate against them. Albus could feel the wet tip of Gellert's cock against his lower back.

"Albus," Gellert whispered, his left-hand fingers suddenly back around Albus's cock.

Albus inhaled sharply. He wanted to turn around, but he fought against the impulse. Instead, he raised his hand and hooked it behind Gellert's head. Tilting his head back and turning slightly, Albus's lips searched for Gellert's. He found him smiling dangerously at him, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Answer the question," Gellert commanded, his breath hot on Albus's lips.

"W-what question?" Albus asked, swallowing a moan.

"Do. You. Want. Me. To. Tell. You—" he said, emphasizing each word with a thrust that had Albus's mind reeling.

"Yes, just. Tell me," Albus replied. He hated how his voice sounded, needy and high-pitched, but there was little he could do to remedy it. He was going to come in a matter of seconds, and he wanted to, too. This wasn't a race anymore—he needed release, and all it would take was a taste of Gellert's mouth to throw him over the edge.

Gellert smiled wickedly, then inched forward, sliding his tongue into Albus's mouth.

Albus's cock twitched. He dug his fingers into Gellert's scalp and tugged. Gellert broke the kiss with a low moan.

"It's dull because you're here, with me. In my hand. And I'm about to come all over you right now."

"Yes," Albus hissed, shutting his eyes against the tidal wave of pleasure that erupted from his cock, riding it with every stroke of Gellert's hand. He felt the jets of hot liquid hit his jaw, then slide down his exposed chest. His entire frame began to shake uncontrollably as he rode his orgasm; he could feel tongues of pleasure licking at his face, each one punctuated with a whimper he could not withhold.

Gellert let out a few low grunts, forceful and loud at first, bestial in nature, as his fingers released Albus's cock and flew to his chest, fumbling for his semen and smearing it across Albus's nipples. Then, with a final grunt, Albus felt the warmth of Gellert's essence hit him straight between the shoulder blades, then trickle down his lower back, the tip of Gellert's cock digging into the crack of his ass cheeks.

Gellert was still ejaculating when he tugged Albus's arm and pulled him around, smearing a drop of semen on Albus's half-erect, exhausted cock.

Enthralled by the view, Albus was taken by surprise when Gellert inched forward, tilted Albus's head back and licked the trail of the pearly-white liquid that had managed to hit him on the jaw.

Albus's eyes grew wide at the action, then promptly closed when he felt Gellert's lips against his. He could taste himself as they kissed, Gellert's tongue licking circles inside his mouth, his semen-smeared fingers tilting Albus's face to give himself better access past his lips.

They broke apart panting, then Gellert continued to press his lips to Albus's, peppering him with forceful, short kisses, until he finally relented. With his fingers hooked behind Albus's ears, he pulled him so close their noses were touching. His mismatched eyes were dilated, and Albus could see his own reflection on Gellert's irises.

They didn't speak, merely panted into each other's mouths. They must have stood like that for a few long, endless seconds, before Gellert let his hands fall to his sides.

"I had…," Gellert began, summoning his wand and siphoning off the mess they had made of each other. He mended their clothes with a lazy wave of his hand. "Something to add to that last letter of yours. A constructive commentary of sorts."

Albus touched his face, which was still exceedingly hot.

As he began to walk away from the window towards one of the living room chairs, he couldn't help but look back at his house. For a second, he thought he saw a face on one of the windows on the first floor, but he quickly dismissed the idea. It's not like they would be missing him. Not yet, anyway.

"Let me guess. You disagree." said Albus, his eyes on his window across the street. He thought back on what Gellert had said—about him being here, and not there, what made all the difference. He turned to Gellert, who had taken the chair furthest from the window, and found him fast asleep, his wand dangling precariously from his grasp.

Albus smiled. He walked up to where Gellert sat, then brushed a strand of hair off his forehead.

Quietly, he procured a book from Bathilda Bagshot's cramped shelves, took a seat by the fire and began to read.