Title: Romance sans paroles
Pairing: AS/S
Rating: NC-17
Length: 1 400
Summary: One wrong word and the moment will shatter; he can foresee the broken friendship, the lost trust, the avoiding glances and the general feeling of nevermore.
Disclaimer: JKR created these beautiful boys just for us to play with, right?
Warnings : m/m explicit sex
Notes : written for the Speedpr0nz community on LJ, AND the French community 30_interdits. Prompts : "insomnia" and "anniversaire - fête galante".
This is the original version, the French one, already published on ff . net, is my own translation.
Many thanks to Cheryl Dyson for the beta! :D
Romance sans paroles
The clock ticks. And ticks. The night is too silent. Scorpius closes his eyes. Opens them. Closes them again. He cannot sleep.
He doesn't know why. Maybe it's just because it's not his bed. Al's breathing is so even. So regular. At Hogwarts he used it as a lullaby that drove him into sleep. But for some reason here it doesn't work.
He sighs. Throws away the blanket haphazardly. He stands up before he had time to formulate a conscious decision.
He's careful to be silent on the stairs. He doesn't want to wake up anybody. He doesn't know where his steps are carrying him. Outside? Fresh air couldn't hurt. Summer nights are too hot. It's easy to suffocate when you're waiting for something you don't know you want.
He opens the back door, takes a look at the garden, peaceful and quiet in the moonlight. He loves the Potters' house. He's been here every summer for Al's birthday, since their first year at Hogwarts.
Why is it different this year? Why can he not sleep? What is that unknown weight, that invisible uneasiness straddling his chest?
The longing, the need, they are easy to identify. He just doesn't know what it is he's longing for.
He's barefooted, only wearing briefs and a tee-shirt. The grass is soft under his feet, as is the light breeze on his skin. He lets out a deep sigh and sits on the bench near the small pond. He doesn't know how long he stayed there, but when someone sits beside him he jumps to his feet, startled, and turns around.
Al smiles softly. Knowingly. He reaches and his hand lands on Scorpius' waist. His face is only a few inches from Scorpius' crotch. Scorpius' breath catches. Blood pummeling in his veins, he wants to speak, to ask, to plead. No word passes his lips.
He can feel the warmth of Albus' hand on his hip. Their eyes meet. Scorpius is afraid to move, on the verge of something he cannot completely fathom. One wrong word and the moment will shatter; he can foresee the broken friendship, the lost trust, the avoiding glances and the general feeling of nevermore.
He knows they should think this through very carefully but Al has never been like that. Al is all about impulsivity, recklessness, instinct. Officially a Slytherin, but Gryffindor to the core. Al without his bold insolence is like a misspelled poem, the key to an empty chest. The spark in his eyes cannot be tamed; if you try, you'll only get burned.
Knowing all of that, Scorpius also knows he cannot escape it more than the moth can escape the murderous call of the candle.
Al's thumb slips under the hem of his tee-shirt. Scorpius breaks eye contact and stares at Al's hand, instead. Inch by inch, Al lifts up the fabric until the smooth flesh of Scorpius' stomach is completely uncovered. Not wasting any time, he presses his lips against the soft, pale skin, while he steadies Scorpius with his other hand on his waist. Scorpius' heart skips a beat. His arm moves of its own accord and he laces his fingers through the other boy's hair. Al pokes his tongue out and tickles his navel with it, eliciting a moan from Scorpius.
Time stretches. Al kisses his stomach for what seems ages. Not that Scorpius has any complaints about that, but he knows his erection is obvious, the bulge in his pants unmistakable, and he cannot help but think about how Al's lips and tongue would feel a bit lower. He won't ask, though.
Al's fingers ghost over his cock still enclosed in the dark fabric, sending jolts of pleasure running along his spine. He holds back a moan. Albus tilts his head and mouths his cock through the fabric. Before he can process what is happening, Scorpius' knees give way under him and he falls on the ground, simply overwhelmed by the sensations.
Al smiles with his eyes. Scorpius cannot look away from his face. The dark light of the moon makes his features look sharper than usual, the shadows accentuating his high cheekbones. His lips are slightly parted and his eyes are so intense. He is breathtakingly beautiful.
Al grips Scorpius' hands and brings them to his thighs. Scorpius clings to him in a rather desperate way but the look of sheer need on Al's face prevents him from feeling embarrassed.
Albus leans forward and it's like he's moving in slow-motion. Scorpius anticipates the kiss, closes his eyes and waits with trepidation. He is rather surprised when Al kisses his closed eyelids, first the right one, then the left. And then nothing more, except for the warm breath he can feel on his cheek. After a few seconds Scorpius opens his eyes again.
Al is staring at him, staring at his lips, but apparently not willing to make the last move. Scorpius shivers under the intensity of the moment. He straightens up a little and brings his lips to Albus'. The first contact is shy; Scorpius kisses as one whispers a prayer. Just before ending the kiss, he gives a tentative lick to Al's bottom lip. And then Albus' two strong hands are on his shoulders and he is kissing him back, kissing him hard, without holding back anything. Scorpius has no desire to resist him in any way and as Al leans against him he lets himself be maneuvered until he rests on his back.
Al is on top of him now; Al is breathing against his mouth; Al is stroking the delicate skin of his collarbone; Al is panting in his ear; Al is shuddering with need; Al is hard and pressing his cock against his thigh; Al is everything he ever wanted and he doesn't know how he could not know it before. Al is kissing him again and Scorpius thinks he could die from the sheer intensity of it.
A hand is tugging at his pants and he lifts his bottom in order to allow Al to remove the piece of clothing. A warm palm is soon cupping his cock and his breathing hitches. Albus' eyes are wide opened, the pupils dilated, and he is so close that even in the dark Scorpius thinks he could count his eyelashes. It is just too much and Scorpius closes his own eyes while Al strokes him. He feels Al's weight shifting over him but he's not quite prepared for his hand being replaced by a hot, wet mouth.
Scorpius knows he's not going to last long and soon his hips are bucking wildly and he thrusts into Al's mouth without being able to restrain himself. It's only a few minutes before he clutches his fingers into Al's hair and gently pushes his head away. Al is a bit slow to take the hint and Scorpius' release splatters on his face, painting his cheek in white, dribbling across his lips and chin.
Scorpius is too lost in ecstasy to feel embarrassed. When he comes back to his senses he sits up and captures Albus in a tight embrace. He wipes his face with both hands, brushing away the sticky liquid. He kisses him, then, and it's with his hand wet from his own come that he finally reaches for what is still hidden by Al's pants. Before long his friend is moaning helplessly, thrusting into his fist as if his life depended on it.
Al tenses in his arms and hot wetness coats his hand. Al's breathing is heavy and it's a long time before he lets go of his arms around Scorpius' neck.
Silence stretches for a long while, but there's nothing uncomfortable about it. They are just happy sitting there in each other arms, listening to the mad pulsing of their blood and their ragged breathing. Eventually, Al gets to his feet and extends a hand towards Scorpius. He accepts it gratefully and stands up in turn.
They get back to their room, careful to be silent while they cross the hall. It's only when Scorpius motions towards his bed than Albus breaks the silence for the first time.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
He doesn't answer but instead turns towards Al's bed, and slides under the covers with him. In the dark and the secret places of his heart, he is smiling. And he knows Albus is smiling, too.