
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/313343.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Terry_Boot/Anthony_Goldstein
  Character:
      Terry_Boot, Anthony_Goldstein
  Additional Tags:
      Anniversary, Masturbation, Underage_Sex, Frottage
  Series:
      Part 5 of Made_For_It
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-01-05 Words: 3107
****** Made To Love ******
by tealeaf523_(ConstantComment)
Summary
     Terry Boot was familiar with many aches.
-x-
Terry Boot was familiar with many aches. There were bad aches: growing pains,
indigestion, migraines, bruises, heartache. Heartache was one he was most
recently familiar with. But there were also good aches: the fatigue he felt at
the end of a long run around the neighbourhood during the summers, the
exhaustion after a long class-day when he could finally, slowly, sink into the
soft down of his bed relaxing, relaxing, relaxing until he fell into a deep
sleep.
And then, there were the times when he was with Anthony, which included some of
the best aches Terry had ever experienced.
Today marked the first day of the last month of school. Today also marked the
end of his and Anthony’s first month as boyfriends. In fact, Terry was more
careful about throwing that word around than Anthony nowadays—although he’d
never admit that he kind of liked the term ‘lovers’ over any other synonym. The
two had returned to school after the small break in April having hashed and
rehashed anything and everything to do with their relationship. And, Terry
thought they had most everything figured out, which made things so much easier,
since they were both to sit exams at the end of May.
Number one: they were in love
Number two: neither was to interfere with the other’s study time
Number three: agreement from both parties that the relationship would not be
‘consummated’ until after O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were over
Number four: they were in love!
Number five: Terry really liked to dwell on the fact that they were very much
in love – was this mentioned before?
So, in summation, Terry was a happy son of a witch, and Anthony never failed to
tell him so.
“You’re a happy son of a witch, aren’t you?” Anthony murmured in Terry’s ear as
they lounged in the Head Boy’s bed the morning of their anniversary, which just
so happened to be a dreary Sunday that invited indoor activities instead of
those less interesting ones… ones that involved being vertical.
“Mmm,” Terry hummed, squirming when Anthony nipped at the same ear and snuggled
close, blankets rising and falling agitatedly like tremendous waves during a
maelstrom.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Thinking about how I should stay away from similes and metaphorical phrases if
I want to get anywhere in life,” he answered, patting down a lump of foldy
bedding and glancing at Anthony, who looked open but confused. Terry lightly
scratched at Anthony’s stomach with his fingernails, causing his abdomen to
contract with the ticklish sensation. Anthony sucked in a breath of air.
“What? Does this mean no more love songs, then?”
Terry grimaced, feeling his cheeks heat up. “You promised not to make fun.”
Anthony pulled him closer with his arm, which, if it hadn’t been under Terry’s
shoulders, would have been holding displaced air close instead of a sulking
Teddy. “I love you,” Anthony said after a moment, smiling into Terry’s hair.
“Yeah, yeah,” Terry grumbled, goose pimples marching down his neck. Anthony
ghosted his fingers over the flesh just—just—above Terry’s briefs, under a
hipbone. Swiped his fingers along that line until his knuckles curled and his
fingernails grazed the next hipbone, circling there when Terry squirmed, the
backs of his thighs brushing against Anthony’s half-hard cock.
“You like that?” Anthony asked, pressing his cock against the cleft of Terry’s
arse when his own hips gave an involuntary twitch.
“You’re bloody impossible,” Terry gasped.
Anthony pulled Terry swiftly toward him, biting down on his neck and laving at
the pink marks his teeth left behind. Terry made some probably ridiculous noise
in the back of his throat at the pleasure-pain, his own cock hardening between
one breath and the next.
“And you, my little Ravenclaw,—“ Anthony slid his hand under Terry’s waistband
and rubbed at the underside of Terry’s awakened prick with the pad of one
finger. “—are insatiable.”
Terry whined.
“I’m surprised it took this long, actually,” Anthony said with a hint of
wonder.
Terry pushed back at his boyfriend, insinuating the tip of the older boy’s
stiffening cock between his cotton-clad arse cheeks, rolling his hips until
Anthony choked on a gasp.
“I wasn’t just talking about you, wanker!”
“I hope you’re not going to leave me to do all the work by myself!” Terry
cried, flipping over and flopping a leg over Anthony’s waist. He grabbed at
Anthony’s surprised face and licked into his mouth, probably a little
overenthusiastic, but Anthony moaned and wrapped both arms around his ribs like
Terry would run off at any second.
They kissed, whimpering and gasping with astonished arousal like they were
discovering their cocks all over again, and Terry delighted in the breathy
sounds Anthony made when Terry ventured down his boyfriend’s back and squeezed
at his arse. He fisted Anthony’s boxers in a hand and pulled them taut, pulled
Anthony closer with the tight cling of fabric, which inspired an even better
noise. Anthony sounded like he was either hurting or feeling on top of the
world with the sounds he was making. When Terry thought about it he supposed it
was sort of both of those things at once.
Terry smiled and giggled when Anthony chased after his mouth, hungry, frowning.
Anthony gave up after a moment and buried the side of his face in a pillow,
panting a little. Terry leaned back in and bumped Anthony’s nose with his when
he’d caught his breath.
“Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Anthony said finally.
“Er, what?”
“Sorry,” Anthony said. He bit his lip. “Wanking. That is, you wanking for me.
I’ve never seen you do it.”
“Psh. We get each other off all the time!” Terry laughed. “Or had you
forgotten?”
Anthony blushed. “No, I mean. You wanking… like I’m not here. Or—like you want
me to be here but I’m not. I’m far away but you’re missing me and you want me
to be with you and you can’t keep your hands off your dick thinking about me.”
Terry’s breath had stolen away somewhere. Likely it had run off with Anthony’s
senses. “What?”
Anthony blushed and scuttled away under the blankets, running a hand through
his hair and looking everywhere but at Terry. “Sorry, it’s stupid. Never mind.
Forget I said anythi—”
“You want me to do that for you?” Terry asked quietly.
Anthony grimaced. “No, no, it’s—really, don’t worry about it.”
Terry grabbed at Anthony’s shoulder. “Shut up for a moment, will you? I’m not
worrying about it.”
Anthony looked back at Terry, chastened.
“I’m just thinking about logistics,” Terry said finally.
Anthony’s answering laughter was like sunshine. Terry tamped down that
particular thought in order to get to the bottom of this… wanking business. No
need to get distracted from the distraction, right?
“So, you’re considering it?”
Terry frowned. “May I ask why?”
“Why… why I want you to…?”
“Jesus, Anthony, I’m the blushing virgin here. Stop being a twat.”
“Because I think about you all the time. Especially when I’m here in bed and
you’re all the way in Ravenclaw Tower and we haven’t seen each other in three
days and I can’t keep my hands off my—” Anthony sucked in a breath. “I want to
see you. I want to see that you want me that much, too.”
Terry leaned over and pressed a swift kiss to Anthony’s lips. “I love you,”
Terry said.
Anthony smiled slightly.
“And you love me, right?”
Anthony nodded, frowning.
“And you like my lips, yeah? And you’re always a bit preoccupied with my dick
whenever it’s out.”
“Yeah,” Anthony gusted out.
Terry leaned in again so his lips would touch Anthony’s ear ever so lightly.
“D’you think about my dick a lot?” Terry asked. “When you’re alone—“
“Terr…”
Terry climbed out from under the covers and pulled the duvet away from
Anthony’s body. Terry committed what he saw to memory, then. ‘Cause Anthony was
so gorgeous he just couldn’t—
“Fucking shit, I’m gonna do this.”
Anthony twitched a little, startling out of his daze. “What?” he mumbled
confusedly. His light green boxers twitched, too, though, when he realized just
what Terry was thinking about—just what madness he was going to commit this
time.
Terry scuttled to the end of the bed, leaning back on one of his hands and
taking a big breath before pushing his fingers under his briefs. He palmed his
cock nervously, feeling it grow harder and harder in his palm as he thought
about Anthony wanking to thoughts of him. He closed his eyes tight when Anthony
let out a little moan, trying not to focus on the fact that he was being
watched. That they were about to engage in a bit of voyeurism-exhibitionism
weirdness. Or whatever.
Terry took another big breath, letting it out in a gust of air that had his
shoulders relaxing and his palm getting back to business in a comfortable grip
around his prick.
He thought about the first time Anthony had approached him—had taken advantage
of him—in the girls’ dormitory over Christmas hols. How he’d made Anthony come
and how he’d felt so powerful doing it, like he’d pulled the orgasm out of
Anthony with his own talent. He thought about Anthony’s fingers, sure and rough
on his prick when he’d been so desperate to come. He thought about Anthony’s
mouth.
“Fuck,” Terry moaned. He pulled his cock out, waistband of his briefs hugging
his bollocks snugly, and squeezed the precome out of the top of his cock with
one long, hard pull.
Anthony’s mouth was heavenly, Terry knew. He sometimes thought he knew it by
heart, but then Anthony’d do this thing with his tongue or his throat or his
lips and Terry’d be coming for ages and shaking like a leaf.
Terry began stroking in earnest, now. But he knew, like every time he wanked
nowadays—now that Anthony was his and sometimes still so far away—that he was
missing something.
It must’ve shown on his face, because Anthony answered with a mewl of lusty
dissatisfaction, making Terry’s bollocks tighten a little. He squeezed the base
of his cock quickly, and staunchly ignored the sounds of slapping skin from
across the bed.
“Shut up, Anthony! I’m trying to imagine you’re not here!”
“What—wait,” Anthony moaned, voice a little sad.
“God—oh, God…” Terry’s head fell back, and he felt the sweat in the hair at his
temples, pooling just above his clavicles, and dripping sleepily from the
creases of his knees. He tightened his grasp and tugged faster. “I’m getting
close,” he mumbled.
Anthony moaned again.
Terry looked down at his cock, angry and red as it slipped through his fist in
a blur. His own precome slicked the way, but Terry couldn’t help—honestly, why
would he help?—but think about how much better it would be if Anthony’s lips
were stretched around his cock and his velvety hot mouth were swallowing him
down. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Terry.”
Terry’s gaze snapped to Anthony, who was sitting up and jerking his prick
quickly, eyes hooded and face crumpled in a moue of want.
Terry let go of his cock, even though he wanted to come so fucking badly, and
crawled to the other end of the bed. He scrambled over Anthony’s juddering hips
and shoved his shoulders into the pillows.
“Agh!” Anthony yelped, hands grabbing Terry’s waist reflexively.
“You’re not allowed to look like that!” Terry growled.
Anthony gasped as Terry straddled his legs and rutted up against him. He found
Anthony’s mouth very easily with his eyes closed, especially since Anthony was
moaning obscenely and pathetically below him.
“Fuck, oh—Terr, I—“
“Love you,” Terry said finally, pulling at Anthony’s thigh and pulling it over
his hip.
“Agh!” Anthony yelped again, yet this time it was more pleasure than surprise
that flitted across his face. Maybe surprised pleasure.
“Like that?” Terry’d never imagined himself to be the one to take control, but
he was kind of manhandling his boyfriend into a position that suited him
best—and Anthony was loving it.
“Yeah, fuck!”
Their skin was slick with and hot with sweat, but Anthony made it slicker when
he came seconds later, just as Terry’d grabbed his other thigh, fingers
ghosting over the cleft of his arse.
“Fuck me,” he moaned deliriously, weakly, into Terry’s neck.
Startled, Terry followed him quickly, the slippery mess between them so perfect
it hurt.
“I love you,” Terry whispered into Anthony’s hair, confused and still rutting
in little spurts against Anthony’s sensitive, spent prick.
It took a while for either of them to say—or think—anything, and in the silence
Terry rolled off of Anthony and stared at his boyfriend while he steadied his
breathing, looking more blissed out than Terry’d ever seen him. He looked high
with it.
“Which part was it?” Terry asked quietly, when Anthony finally turned his head
to Terry and gave him a smile as unsure as it was happy.
“S’that?”
“Which part… of what just happened. What made you—”
Anthony shrugged, but Terry knew that they both knew what was being said.
Asked.
“You know I’m not a virgin, yeah?” Anthony began, supposedly trying to answer.
Terry turned more fully to him and twined his fingers in Anthony’s. “Yes.”
“D’you wanna know who I lost it to?”
“Is it someone I know? Someone who still goes here?”
Anthony shook his head. “No, no.” He looked down at their entwined fingers. “He
worked in the office I was the coffee runner for, two summers ago.”
“Muggle?”
“No. He was 25 and had gone to a school of wizardry in Switzerland. English.
Pureblood. Gorgeous as hell and the worst person to lose your virginity to.”
Terry’s heart clenched. “Why?”
“Ah, he was a massive prick. But, that’s not the point.”
“Well, what is, then? You’re not making me feel too great—post-coital haze can
only do so much.”
“He taught me a lot about what I liked, though,” Anthony continued as if Terry
hadn’t spoken.
“So…?”
“Imagine a 25-year-old taking a 15-year-old’s virginity. You can probably guess
who was the bottom.”
Terry frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” Anthony said.
Terry shuffled closer and propped his chin on Anthony’s shoulder. “I know I’m a
Ravenclaw, but I still feel like I’m missing something.”
Anthony flicked Terry’s forehead with his other head.
“Hey!”
Anthony smiled. “Well, the point wasn’t to have a little heart-to-heart. And
not to freak you out, either. I’ve topped other blokes.”
“Okay.”
“I just… I really like bottoming. I suppose.”
Terry sat up. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“What?”
“So what if you like bottoming?”
“Well—”
“You could’ve told me—it’s not like bottoming is some sort of emasculating
experience.” Terry let go of Anthony’s hand, watching his boyfriend’s reaction.
“Unless you think it is an emasculating experience.”
Anthony sat up, too.
“And you assumed that I’d be the bottom in this relationship, with that
attitude? Well, fuck you!”
Anthony scrambled out of bed when Terry rolled from it and grabbed his wand. He
gritted out an angry cleaning charm before shoving into his jeans and searching
for his t-shirt and socks and trainers scattered about the room somewhere.
“Where are you going?” Anthony asked, a little frantically.
“To revise. I need to go over my Herbology reading. I’ve only read it once.”
“No, wait—Terr,” Anthony pulled at Terry’s fingers when he managed to catch
him. “Christ, this is not how I meant things to play out.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Terry snarked. He Summoned his trainers and they landed with a
flop at his feet as he waited for Anthony to explain himself.
“I was just trying to explain… I’m sorry. I just wanted to answer your question
thoroughly.”
Terry huffed.
“You know, answer it the best I could.”
“Ravenclaw,” Terry said.
Anthony smiled self-deprecatingly. “Okay. In the past, my experiences as a
bottom have been somewhat emasculating, to be honest. Especially with Nathan.”
Terry scowled at the mention—by name—of the man who’d taken Anthony’s
virginity.
“But with you, I did… sort of assume that you’d be the bottom. But not because
I’d rather shove that role onto you! I want your experience with me to be a
good one. Whatever you choose to do, I want you to feel good and special and—”
Terry smiled. “You’re such a girl.”
“Talk about emasculation!”
“You deserve it.”
“Yeah, I suppose I do,” Anthony said, looking repentant and… a bit gorgeous and
vulnerable in just his boxers as he stood in front of Terry, who was now fully
dressed save for his shoes. “I just… I started all of this with a bit of a
‘Nathan mentality’… but I liked you. I liked you so much and I tried—am
trying—to treat you as you should be treated. Like my boyfriend. Like someone
I’m in love with.”
“Not like a twink in ladies’ knickers?”
“No,” Anthony laughed. “Although you totally looked like one. And that blue
mascara!”
“You liked it.”
“I did.”
Terry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, pressing his nose into Anthony’s
neck as strong arms wrapped around him.
“Come back to bed? We don’t have to do anything, I just don’t want to spend
today without you.”
Terry pulled off his jeans promptly and climbed under the covers. When Anthony
tried to spoon behind him, Terry elbowed him lightly and shoved him over,
spooning up behind Anthony’s back and biting his ear.
“Ouch!”
“So,” Terry said, ignoring Anthony’s whining. “In summation, would you say that
you really liked when I took control?”
Anthony stopped whining immediately. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
“What an interesting development. We shall have to test out this theory with
extensive empirical research.”
“Yeah,” Anthony agreed, quieter than before.
Terry smiled.
“I have to say that I’m glad O.W.Ls are sooner rather than later.”
Anthony turned his head and waiting for further explanation.
“Because I don’t want to wait that long to lose my virginity.”
Anthony snickered. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t look forward to it.”
Anthony pulled Terry’s arm over to rest against the planes of his stomach.
“Especially since it sounds like you’re bottoming!”
Anthony did not protest, so Terry just chuckled into the curls at the nape of
Anthony’s neck and savoured the moment. This was looking like a good
anniversary, as far as firsts went. And the only ache Terry felt now was the
deep-seated burn of affection as he closed his eyes.
-x-
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