
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/226585.
  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:
      Oral_Sex, Dubious_Consent, Love_Confessions, Underage_Sex
  Series:
      Part 2 of Made_For_It
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-21 Words: 1940
****** Making Up For It ******
by tealeaf523_(ConstantComment)
Summary
     Terry swore he might just puke. Right here and now. You see, he had
     been waiting for a good ten minutes, dread slowly inching down his
     spine as the seconds ticked by. He scuffed his trainers against the
     Persian rug, awakening dust clouds, and shoved his hands into his
     back pockets.
Notes
     Slight warning for transphobic/generally rude assumption Anthony made
     about Terry's sexuality in the previous story.
Terry swore he might just puke. Right here and now.
You see, he had been waiting for a good ten minutes, dread slowly inching down
his spine as the seconds ticked by. He scuffed his trainers against the Persian
rug, awakening dust clouds, and shoved his hands into his back pockets.
Where is he?
Feeling foolish and used, Terry licked at his lips (he’d stolen the lip-gloss
and didn’t plan to give it back) and straitened up. He’d wait—he checked his
watch—five more minutes, then he would be gone and he would forget about
sodding Anthony Goldstein and he would find some other bloke.
Yep.
Another bloke.
That he wasn’t in love with.
That probably couldn’t give a decent hand-job.
And didn’t have stunning, deep blue-green eyes.
“I’m gonna make myself cry,” he muttered miserably, his voice surprisingly loud
in the Charms classroom. He snapped his jaw shut almost immediately,
irrationally afraid someone would come in and reprimand him for…
…standing around… in a classroom… by himself.
Terry kicked the desk next to him.
It was 8:12 when he considered his book-bag over on the desk near the door.
It was 8:14 when he walked over to his bag and slung it over his shoulder,
wrenching the door open angrily only to run promptly into a solid chest (clad
in achingly soft material).
“Fucking shit!” he yelled, and a pair of hands seized his mouth and backed him
into the room again. Hearing the slam of the door and the accompanying wards go
up, Terry blinked and looked up into a pair of stunning, deep blue-green eyes.
“Evening, Terr,” the older boy smiled down at him, resting his hands on Terry’s
shoulders.
“Goldstein,” Terry answered coldly, shrugging out of the other’s embrace and
heading toward the door.
“Hey, wait!” Terry heard and then he was spun around and pinned against the
door. Anthony looked panicked and smirky at the same time, which just pissed
Terry off all the more. “Why are you leaving? I just got here,” he murmured.
“Yeah? Well, I was here bloody fifteen minutes ago at your request. So, I think
I’ll be going. I have studying to do.” Terry tried to push him away, but the
Head Boy was known for being ridiculously strong as well as stubborn.
Anthony squeezed Terry’s shoulders and stepped into his personal space, his
features slipping into a much more appropriately worried frown. “I’m so sorry,
Terr. Professor McGonagall held me up. I would’ve been on time, I swear.”
Relief flooded through Terry, making his shoulders slump a little, but his face
remained in pout-mode. He harrumphed as if he barely believed that story.
Anthony lifted his finger and traced Terry’s lips, smiling slightly. “Were you
afraid I’d stood you up?” he asked.
“No.”
“That I was off with another bloke?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Terr. And you got all gussied up for me,” he whispered, tapping
Terry’s bottom lip with the same, distracting finger. “However can I make it up
to you?”
Terry’s eyes snapped to his, slipping the other’s finger between his lips and
laving it lightly, then taking it fully into his mouth and dragging it out
again, nipping the tip as he withdrew. Anthony’s eyes hardened, and Terry saw
beautiful, white teeth come out to bite down on an equally beautiful bottom
lip.
Merlin, I could come right now, Terry thought fleetingly.
Anthony stepped ever closer and leaned into Terry, removing his hand and
trailing his fingers down an arm to take the younger boy’s hands in his. Their
lips hovered a breath away, and Terry could hardly breath. “May I make it up to
you, Terr?” he said huskily.
Terry’s eyes fluttered closed in acquiescence and waited for those lovely lips.
Nothing.
His eyes shot open when he felt hands at his belt, and he felt slightly
disoriented to see Anthony kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his trousers
quickly and shoving them (the ones Anthony’d Transfigured for him) down to his
feet.
How the hell did he get down there?
But, most intelligent thought left him when the Head Boy shucked off his brown
sweater, lightly muttering something like, “Mustn’t ruin the cashmere!”
So now Terry leaned against the door in nothing but his button down and boxer-
briefs, and there was Anthony, kneeling before him in nothing but his own,
tight denims that hugged his arse so beautifully Terry could have cried. But,
not really.
“You ready, Terr? You aching for me, already?” Anthony growled, placing his big
hands over Terry’s hipbones and hooking his fingers over the waistband of the
younger boy’s pants.
Terry whimpered and frantically unbuttoned his dress-shirt.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Anthony murmured, smirking devilishly, and slowly
peeled the cotton material down Terry’s tense thighs, dropping them to the
floor when the boy’s stiff prick bobbed up. Anthony hummed appreciatively and
slid the tip of his tongue up the underside of Terry’s cock, causing his knees
to nearly buckle. “You,” Anthony breathed, “have a lovely, big cock for a boy
your size.” With that he grasped the base of said cock with his left hand and
slipped the head into his mouth, sucking hard and flicking his tongue over the
sensitive underside.
“Ohh, Anthon—fuck! Oh, god,” Terry yelped, scrambling to put his hands
somewhere where they could find purchase, somewhere where he could find a way
not to fall down. “Unh!” he whined, looking down as Anthony took more of him in
his mouth. He watched, breathing hard as the older boy’s eyes flickered closed
and his hand came to rest on Terry’s hipbone, preventing him from thrusting.
Anthony breathed hard through his nose as he took even more in, sucking him
ruthlessly when Terry gasped and cried out once more.
“Anthony,” Terry breathed heavily, finally fisting his hand, tight, into the
boy’s wavy, honey-blond hair. He felt as well as heard an answering moan around
his cock, sending a jolt up his spine and causing his knees to weaken again.
“Unh!”
He was slammed up against the door with the same strong, left hand, and
wondered briefly where the other one was. It was then that he realized Anthony
was thrusting his hips in time with his mouth, and then it clicked, achingly,
fantastically, that the older boy was—ahem—multitasking. Seemingly in answer to
Terry’s revelation, Anthony moaned loudly again and took him all the way into
his mouth, his nose bobbing against Terry’s dark thatch of hair. Terry could
feel his head bump the back of Anthony’s throat, and frantically shoved his
other hand into the boy’s hair to join the other one. He was sure Anthony was
his only tie to Earth right now. Terry barely registered the tensing of
Anthony’s muscled back as the Head Boy came on the floor below and set to his
final task with a vengeance.
“Ah! Oh, Christ!” Terry murmured, then screamed when Anthony sucked. Hard. He
whimpered, and opened his eyes, sparing a glance downward, only to see a pair
of piercing, blue-green eyes looking intently up at him, the accompanying mouth
tight around the base of his prick. “Oh, god! Anthony?” he whimpered girlishly.
“I’m gonna—unh… I think—ah, ah,” he gasped. With that Anthony took his left
hand and snaked it around to squeeze his bollocks. “Unh! Anthony, I love you!”
he cried, and came, it seemed, the hardest he’d ever done before, spewing loads
of cum down the other’s throat.
He slid dazedly to the floor in a puddle of post-orgasmic bliss, and barely
felt warm hands redress him and tuck him into the right places. Then, he felt
the same beautiful hands scoop him up and deposit him, straddled, on a lap. His
forehead came to rest in the crook of another’s neck. Someone’s arm came to
nestle into the hair on the nape of his neck, and another snaked around his
waist. He still breathed hard, and his heart beat a tattoo into his chest.
Oh, Merlin, he felt…
Suddenly he snapped back to awareness, feeling wetness on his eyelashes and on
his cheeks.
“Shh,” said Anthony against his temple. Terry took a ragged breath and placed a
tentative kiss against Anthony’s warm, golden skin. The older boy hummed
quietly and cupped his face in his hands. There was a sort of… panic… in
Anthony’s eyes as Terry looked up into his face, wide-eyed. Finally, Anthony
asked, “Did you mean what you said?”
“What did I say?” Terry asked, feeling a fuzzy, niggling sensation in the back
of his brain, and then shot out of Anthony’s arms, scrambling back until his
shoulders his the door and curling in on himself, stricken.
Anthony, I love you!
“Terr?” Anthony prompted, his voice calm if not a little raspy.
“Oh, god!” Terry wheezed. The heels of his hands came to push against his
temples as he stared anywhere but into that face. “Oh, god…” he whispered, and
tears spilled down his cheeks again. He closed his eyes tightly against the
rejection he would surely feel as soon as Anthony opened his mouth.
But instead all he heard was a soft “Oh, Terry,” and a hand that cupped his
cheek lightly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…” There was a sigh. “I didn’t
know.”
Terry sniffed disgustingly and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “How the hell
would you?” he asked. “We’d barely spoken before yesterday.” His eyes still
stared fixedly at Anthony’s knees.
The same hand came out and grasped Terry’s chin, pulling his eyes to the
other’s. The blue-green was surprisingly emotive—Goldstein was known for his
ability to keep cool in a situation, as well as his unnerving ability to give
nothing away (a trait that caused some to wonder at the Sorting Hat’s choice).
“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you,” he said quietly. “Even if you
didn’t… feel that way about me.”
Terry’s eyes watered. What am I? A waterfall?
“You were just… so cute. And obviously gay. And I was strangely attracted to
you,” Anthony continued. He tentatively leaned in and placed a kiss to the
corner of Terry’s mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
Terry sobbed and dove into Anthony’s chest, straddling him again and wrapping
his arms possessively around Anthony’s neck. “No!” When all Anthony did was
give a startled grunt, his hands splayed across the small of his back, Terry
elaborated. “You can’t be sorry! And you can’t just stop and leave me here!
Because if you stop… I’ll—” He hiccoughed. “I can’t be… close to you…” Terry
trailed off.
Anthony pressed his lips into Terry’s temple again. “Who said I’d just off and
leave you?” he muttered.
“Wha?” Terry mumbled, finally distancing his face from Anthony’s so he could
look into his face properly.
Anthony’s small smile slid quickly into a smirk. “It seems I have much more to
make up to you than a bout of tardiness, Terry. Do you have anything in mind?”
Terry looked into those deep, blue-green eyes. “Can I stay with you, tonight?”
Anthony looked mildly shocked.
“Just sleeping, mind. I’m not really ready for that sort of thing…”
Anthony pondered for a moment, then smiled lopsidedly, softly nudging Terry off
of his lap and standing up. He Summoned his sweater and put it on hastily, then
extended his hand to Terry, lifting him up to stand.
                                       *
They shared a slow, languorous, mind-blowing kiss in the doorway to the Head
Boy’s Chambers, but it was nothing compared to the bliss of Anthony’s bed as
the older boy cradled him from behind, the two sliding into peaceful sleep.
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