
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/700521.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Colin_Creevey/Cormac_McLaggen
  Character:
      Colin_Creevey, Cormac_McLaggen
  Additional Tags:
      Hand_Jobs, Oral_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Anal_Sex, Rimming, First_Time, Fluff,
      Romance, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Exhibitionism, Light_Dom/
      sub
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-26 Completed: 2013-03-03 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 15136
****** Reel ******
by yeaka
Summary
     Cormac likes pursuing things, and Colin runs in the wrong direction.
Notes
     Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I’m
     not making any money off this.
     This is for the amazing Imera, who I love muchly! Her rarepair fics
     are so inspiring, and this is the result for me. ♥
  This work was inspired by
      Summer_conquest by imera
***** Start *****
Quidditch training is something of a bore, particularly because Cormac isn’t
actually in it.
He’s allowed to tag along sometimes. Especially if someone’s feeling sick, and
then suddenly it’s all invites his way. He practices a lot anyway, because even
if Potter’s too stupid to see it, Cormac is excellent at Quidditch and should
be on the team. He’s certainly better than Weasley. He flies like he was made
for it; his broom feels right in his hands. He can’t play Keeper now, not with
Weasley still in full health. But he joins in with the Chasers and delights
when he spots the Snitch before Potter—he’d be a better Seeker, too. He’s not
fast enough, or rather, he’s not as small. Potter dives and catches the Snitch
before Cormac can, and he goes back to sulking around the middle.
When the Quaffle flies too close to the stands, Cormac is the one to zoom after
it. He’s the one that catches it, turning just as a flash goes off. He tosses
the ball to Katie. Once he gets a few meters back into the air, he glances
backwards at the stands to see where the flash came from. As usual, there’s a
small collection of onlookers. Cormac never pays much attention to them,
because Cormac doesn’t generally pay attention to things that aren’t him or
aren’t going to get him anything.
Today there’s a smaller blond boy, a fifth year, he thinks, beaming up at them,
a large camera in hand. Cormac blinks as another flash goes off, pointed this
time towards the goalposts. Then the boy swivels back around to Cormac, the
camera pointed right at him.
Cormac isn’t moving. He’s hovering in place, staring down. The boy falters,
lowering the camera a bit, cheeks flushing. Frowning, Cormac turns around and
soars across the pitch.
He chases the Quaffle for a while, and from then on, he keeps track of which
direction the flashes are going in. He doesn’t look down again, but he makes
note out the corner of his eye. He starts subtly striking poses—pausing mid-
flight and arching his back properly, tilting his chin ruggedly. He preens
under the attention, and he stops every so often to finger-comb his hair into
place. If he’s not mistaken, he gets about three pictures taken for every one
the other players get, even Potter.
By the end of the match, Cormac’s smirking to himself. He knows he’s handsome,
of course. He understands. He’s better looking than everyone else on the team,
and, if he’s perfectly honest, most other people in Hogwarts. He’s never had
any trouble getting girls before. It’s almost gotten to the point where he
finds it boring. He’s never tried boys, though.
That probably won’t be hard either, but Cormac could use a challenge. When he
lands on the grass beside everyone else, he chances a look back at the stands.
It’s too far away to see, of course. But a bright twinkle of light in the
distance confirms he’s still being photographed—Cormac pauses to pose
dramatically.
===============================================================================
The next day, Cormac wakes up feeling particularly good. He had very delectable
dreams about a certain photographer dying to use Cormac for a model. When the
sun through his curtains shakes him awake, Cormac finishes the dream off to
take care of his morning wood. When he strolls into breakfast, it’s with as
much overconfidence as ever, and he finds what he’s looking for without too
much trouble.
The boy—the fifth year, Cormac still assumes—is sitting at the Gryffindor
table, nose buried in a book. He’s eating his oatmeal somewhat messily, trying
to do it while reading. Cormac saunters right over and takes the empty seat
next to the boy, purposely not looking over. Out the corner of his eye, he sees
the boy glancing sideways and turning a delicate shade of pink. Cormac forks
some sausages onto his plate, completely casual.
He takes his first bite before pretending to notice the blushing fifth year,
arching one eyebrow.
“Enjoy the match yesterday...?” Cormac tilts his head and leaves the question
open in that certain way that indicates he wants the boy to provide his name.
When the boy just opens his mouth dumbly and nods, Cormac rolls his eyes. He
isn’t the sort to beat around the bush too much. “What’s your name, again?”
“C... Colin Creevey.” Cormac’s smirk only grows. A stutter? This should,
indeed, be very easy.
Leaning forward a few centimeters, Cormac murmurs, eyelids half-lowering, “Did
you get all the photos you wanted?”
Colin squeaks and abruptly knocks over his porridge. He mumbles, “Y-yes!”
whilst scrambling to clean it up. Cormac just pulls his wand out of his robes,
vanishing the mess like it’s no trouble. If anything, he finds the clumsiness
endearing. It speaks to his own good looks; he’s that radiantly distracting.
He tries again, being a bit clearer, “You sure you wouldn’t like... more?”
“Oh.” Colin blinks up at Cormac, brown eyes bright and wide. His light, wavy
brown hair is a bit of a mess, and his cheeks are flushed right up to his ears.
He looks completely innocent and utterly adorable—a fun target. When Cormac
arches another eyebrow tellingly, Colin’s blush deepens, and he repeats, “Oh.”
“Where should we go?” Cormac asks nonchalantly. He rests his elbow on the table
and drops his chin into his palm, letting the sunlight wash over him. Colin’s
chewing his lip nervously and squirming in his seat. His robes are a little too
big for him, and Cormac can’t help but try to picture what he looks like
underneath. “Gryffindor Tower might be a little crowded for what I have in
mind. Perhaps an empty classroom...?”
Colin nods mutely and too fast—he looks like he might give himself whiplash.
Smirking in victory, Cormac turns to stab his fork back into one of his
sausages. He picks his plate up as he takes a bite, climbing out of his seat.
He walks down the table and onto the far side, staying at the end, and Colin
watches him go, confusion all over that cute face. Cormac likes to keep the
mystery up, and besides, he isn’t entirely sure he’s done with the female
population yet. He doesn’t want them to know he could play for other teams
until he’s successfully mastered this one; Cormac’s nothing but victory.
Not that he thinks there’s any chance of failure. Colin’s eyes linger on him
for the rest of breakfast, while Cormac ponders which room he’ll use later.
===============================================================================
The Room of Requirements is as good as any. He has it all set up when he brings
Colin into it. It’s a combination of his living room and bedroom back home:
large and rich, with an elaborate fireplace on one wall and a bed on the other,
king-sized and sporting deep crimson blankets. Colin blushes while he looks at
it. There’s a large armchair by the bed that Cormac brings Colin too, gesturing
for him to sit down. Colin’s clutching his camera and nothing else; he left his
bag behind. He sits down and his robes swallow him up. Cormac croons, “Aren’t
you a little warm in that?”
And he strips off his own robes to demonstrate. In just his trousers and white
t-shirt, he stretches out across the bed. He lies down on his side, propping
his head up on one elbow, pulling his tie out with the other hand. He smiles at
Colin encouragingly.
Colin’s a bright red and looks like he might faint. But he does start to fumble
with his robes, and eventually he gets them off, stepping out of them. Then he
sits back down and drops his camera to the floor, scrambling to pick it back
up. Cormac chuckles, “Not into this kind of photography?”
“N-no!” Colin insists. And he instantly takes a shot. Smirking, Cormac tilts
his head back, and another pictures snaps. Colin leans forward, almost toppling
out of his chair. Cormac points his chin down, looking up at Colin with as
sultry eyes as he can manage, biting his lip. He tugs his tie down to give a
peak at his collarbone; Colin gulps as he takes another picture. The sudden
light’s a little disorienting, but Cormac forces his eyes to stay open.
After a few more, Colin mumbles, “Er, can you... could you maybe bend your leg
like—yeah, like that. Perfect!” Another hurried shot, and Cormac smirks. After
two more, he rolls onto his back. Still looking at the camera, he tosses his
arms behind his head. Colin practically salivates, trigger finger moving at the
speed of light. Cormac arches his body off the bed, puffing out his chest and
looking sideways through half-lidded eyes. He keeps the leg closest to Colin
flat and bends the other, trying to show off his package.
Colin is now craning around in his seat, snapping photos from every angle.
Cormac adjusts slightly between every one. Then he runs his finger down his
chest erotically, and Colin’s finger hesitates before snapping the next one.
Cormac undoes his top button, shifting his shirt around to show of his defined
chest. Colin’s breathing very, very hard, and it’s audible over the crackling
fireplace. Cormac slowly trails his hand lower and lower between shots, until
he’s resting on his crotch.
Colin hesitates, and Cormac’s hand hesitates with him. Only when another flash
goes off does Cormac draw his hand back, slipping it underneath the fabric.
Colin gasps instantly, and the next flash comes just as fast. Cormac slowly
strokes himself through his boxers while Colin takes pictures. The whole thing
is incredibly exhilarating, and even without the ploy to seduce Colin, Cormac
finds it hot. He’s always known he was a bit of a show off, and he always knew
he liked to be watched. Somehow he’d never really considered doing it behind a
camera before though, and now he’s wondering why. The attention he’s getting is
intoxicating. Colin’s treating him like some fascinating, divine piece of art,
and that makes Cormac almost immediately hard. When he undoes the top button of
his trousers, Colin’s breath hitches, camera pointing downwards.
Voice naturally husky, Cormac purrs, “Have you ever taken nudes before, Colin?”
Colin shakes his head, camera lowering a bit, brown eyes wide in awe. Cormac
undoes his zipper very slowly, but doesn’t take himself out yet. No sense
giving all his cards away at once. He asks, “Would you like to?” Colin nods.
Giving that a moment to sink in first, Cormac murmurs, “Do you know how much
models usually get paid...?”
“Oh!” Colin’s head instantly snaps back up to Cormac’s, shoulders hunching, “I-
I don’t have any money...”
“Shh,” Cormac purrs, sitting up as slowly and elegantly as possible. “I didn’t
say anything about money.”
He pats the bed beside himself with a raised eyebrow, and when Colin steps
closer, trembling slightly and completely pink in the face, Cormac slips the
camera out of his hands. Cormac places it down on the nightstand and explains,
“Now... if you really want me to model for you, I’m sure we can work out
another way for you to pay me for it...” He reaches out to gently hold Colin’s
wrist, tugging Colin closer. Colin stumbles forward, and Cormac pulls him onto
the bed, shifting over slightly to make room. He doesn’t give Colin even a
second to settle down and get comfortable.
He darts a hand to grab Colin’s light hair, and he presses their lips together.
Colin instantly gasps into him, and that parts his soft lips, letting Cormac
dive his tongue in. He didn’t mean to go this fast really, but Colin’s too
delectable to resist. Colin doesn’t really seem to know what to do—his mouth
hangs limply open while Cormac pillages it. Cormac doesn’t exactly mind—it just
lets him show off his own skills more.
Colin’s a lot smaller than Cormac. He’s short, and he’s thin, and he’s young,
and he trembles as Cormac runs his other hand down Colin’s body. Cormac keeps
the one hand fisted in his hair, not letting him go. The other trails down
Colin’s shoulder, finding his frail wrist. Cormac pulls Colin’s hand forward,
pressing it into the front of his trousers. Colin makes a squeaking noise into
his mouth, obviously excited, but Cormac just swallows it. He grinds his cock
hard into Colin’s soft palm, and he can feel Colin’s fingers shaking. When
Cormac finally releases him, Colin’s eyes stay closed, his lips staying open,
wet and red.
On sheer instinct, Cormac reaches behind himself and grabs the camera, pulling
it up to snap a shot; the light makes Colin jerk his eyes open and blink.
Cormac’s smirking—he thinks he’ll want a copy of that picture.
***** Around *****
Colin, not at all to Cormac’s surprise, turned out to be a virgin. Cormac isn’t
a total monster, and as coy as he tried to be, he couldn’t quite get Colin to
ask for sex—the permission he would’ve wanted. Colin trembled and obediently
lay down on the bed when Cormac put him there, but he scrunched his eyes closed
and looked nothing short of terrified.
So Cormac stopped, until Colin whined, clearly wanting more, and Cormac wrapped
Colin’s small hand around his cock and pumped it, until he was coming in hot
spurts across Colin’s chest. Then he kissed Colin a bit, cleaned him off, and
let him take some more pictures. Cormac explained how post-orgasm photos often
have more of a glow, and Colin seemed shocked to find that true.
Now Cormac’s deciding when he wants the next time to be. Because there
obviously has to be a next time, even if Cormac isn’t typically the sort to
settle down with one person. He didn’t get as far as he wanted, and he knows he
can go all the way, if he just gives it a little time. Men are definitely an
option he’s decided he wants to pursue. And why try another target when he
already has one so eager to please?
Colin’s nothing if not eager. Cormac thought he’d give Colin some time to
recover and think after their first encounter, but apparently that wasn’t
necessary. Colin showed up beside him at breakfast, timidly glowing and acting
as if it would be his greatest wish for them to be friends. Cormac treated
Colin just like he treats all of his admirers: offhandedly. But when the rest
of the boys weren’t looking, Cormac whispered in Colin’s ear, “Later.”
And he told Colin the same thing at lunch and dinner, which Colin also showed
up for. He’s still deciding now when the best time would be, while he lazily
pumps his cock. All the usual silencing spells are up, of course, and the
dormitory’s quiet. The moonlight streams in through the curtains of his four-
poster, and Cormac wonders idly if he could manage to smuggle Colin into his
bed. He’s used to jerking off before sleep, but the times when he’s had a girl
around have been better. He sleeps so much better after sex. Cormac’s dated
girls in Gryffindor before simply for the convenience; why should Colin be any
different? They can be sneaky about it.
Colin’s hand would be better than Cormac’s. It wouldn’t be as experienced, of
course, but he could guide it. It would be smaller and softer, delicate and
almost pretty, and then he’d also have Colin’s pretty face to look at, staring
rapturously down at his cock. Cormac’s hand goes a little faster as he pictures
Colin kneeling between his legs, pumping him and leaning down, darting out a
tiny, pink tongue to lap at his tip. Cormac’s sure he could get a blowjob with
hardly any convincing; that would be a fair exchange for some nudes. And then
he could grab Colin’s soft hair and shove him all the way down, nearly choking
Colin, and brutally fuck Colin’s face. Just thinking about it makes Cormac
moan. He arches off the bed as he comes suddenly, eyes closed so he can picture
his cum sliding down Colin’s throat.
When he’s spent and breathing heavy, Cormac grins wide. Tomorrow, he won’t have
to do this again.
===============================================================================
Tomorrow, he runs into Colin during one of his spare periods. Colin’s in-
between classes, hurrying off to Divination. Cormac chuckles, “What on Earth
would you need Divination for?” And he ignores all of Colin’s startled rebuke,
dragging him over to a broom cupboard.
Cormac looks both ways before deeming the hallway clear enough, and he tugs
Colin in and shuts the door behind them. They’re thrown into total darkness,
and Colin squeaks, “C-Cormac, I have class...”
“I have a hard-on,” Cormac retorts, sweeping down to capture a quick kiss. It
only takes one step to shove Colin into the wall, and he slips Colin’s bag off
his shoulder while ravaging his mouth. Colin gasps into it and moans loudly
when Cormac shoves a leg between his thighs, hiking Colin up the wall. A few
shallow thrusts, and Cormac really is hard, and he rubs his crotch into Colin
like an animal. Cormac’s never been particularly graceful about wanting sex;
he’s handsome enough that he doesn’t have to be.
Kissing down to Colin’s neck, a place where Colin’s very sensitive, Cormac
purrs, “Do you want to earn some pictures tonight?”
He sucks on Colin’s neck, so Colin can’t do anything but mumble breathlessly,
“Oohhh, yes, yes please...”
Cormac grabs one of Colin’s wrists, bring it to his crotch. Colin rubs
obediently, until Cormac opens his trousers. He lifts Colin’s hand and slips it
inside, and Colin whimpers, fingers wrapping around Cormac’s full cock. Cormac
groans and reaches into his pocket, tapping his wand. Silencing spells
instantly envelop them, so Cormac’s free to growl raunchily, “Be a good boy and
jerk me off, and I’ll let you take as many pictures of me as you want...”
Colin makes a needy, mewling sound and lifts his hand gently up and down with
the same unsure hesitancy he seems to have for anything not camera-related.
Cormac flattens his hand back over Colin’s, jerking it faster. Colin learns
quickly, and Cormac rewards him with a hungry kiss. He can feel that Colin’s
hard too, but he doesn’t want to switch the dynamic to that, yet—he keeps it
about pleasuring himself. Colin doesn’t seem to mind. Colin tugs on Cormac’s
cock while Cormac grinds hard into him and devours his mouth. Cormac’s hands
roam all over Colin’s body, slipping under his robes and caressing every curve,
eventually sliding down between Colin’s ass and the wall. Cormac squeezes
hard—Colin gasps into his mouth. Colin has a great ass. Round, pert, and tight.
Cormac kneads it and thrusts harder, until he’s shuddering and his balls are
tightening. He quickly moves to pull Colin’s hand up, and he spurts all over
Colin’s palm a minute later.
He has Colin keep touching him until every last bit is out. Then he takes
Colin’s wrist again and raises Colin’s hand to his mouth, breaking their kiss.
For a moment, Colin doesn’t seem to know what to do.
So Cormac purrs helpfully in his ear, “Lick it up, baby.”
He doesn’t need any light to know that Colin’s blushing furiously. Cormac can
practically feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. For a moment, Cormac thinks
he might’ve gone too far.
But Colin takes a shuddering breath, and the next minute, Cormac hears him
softly lapping away at his sticky fingers, and Cormac digs out his wand to
cast, “Lumos,” and watch.
Colin closes his eyes in embarrassment, but he finishes the load without pause.
He sucks off all of his fingers, popping them one at a time into his mouth, his
lips already swollen and wet. He licks in-between each digit and he runs his
tongue along his palm, until his hand is slick with sweat, not cum. Then his
eyes sliver open, and he looks up at Cormac deliciously, as if to ask if he did
well.
Cormac likes to reward good behaviour. Colin’s like a new puppy that wants a
treat, and Cormac reaches up to ruffle his hair, murmuring, “You did very well,
Colin.”
Colin beams, almost bright enough to light up the whole closet.
Cormac lets him leave to run back to his class, which he’s definitely late for.
Then Cormac cleans himself off and heads for the pitch—maybe he’ll do some
flying.
===============================================================================
Jennifer Yaxley is a pretty Slytherin girl with long blond hair and piercing
blue eyes, and she’s one of the very few girls in his year that Cormac hasn’t
dated. She corners him in the library one afternoon, holding a book hard
against her plump chest. The top button of her shirt is undone, but Cormac
finds making eye contact unusually easy. “Did you finish the Transfiguration
essay?”
“Nope,” Cormac answers. He never does homework early, but he gets by. She’s
never shown any interest in him before—probably the reason he’s never had any
interest in her. Vaguely, he wonders what it is that’s changed that.
Colin’s the only thing that’s different. He hasn’t officially announced
anything, but he’s started spending most meals and a few evenings with Colin.
Maybe she’s noticed. Maybe she’s jealous. Maybe she’s offended that he’d rather
go after a fifth year boy than her, and that thought makes Cormac smirk to
himself.
She asks, “Do you want to work on it together, maybe? I haven’t finished it
either, but all my housemates have, and I could use a second pair of eyes...”
Cormac finds himself saying, “No,” before he even realizes it. The girl looks
utterly shocked; Cormac shrugs. He’s never been particularly elegant with his
rejections. If someone’s not good enough for him, they’re not good enough for
him. Yaxley’s good looking enough, but for whatever reason... Cormac just
doesn’t feel like it.
Cormac goes back to looking for his book, but he gives up halfway through. Now
that he’s been basically propositioned, he’s got sex on the brain.
He wanders off to find Colin.
***** Date *****
Colin shows up at breakfast flushed and bright-faced, even more so than usual.
He sits across from Cormac with a dreamy stare, practically sighing, “Hogsmeade
weekend today. And it hasn’t snowed yet! I can get some pictures of the before
and after.”
Frowning, mostly because Colin’s excited over something that isn’t him, Cormac
asks, “That’s all you’re going to do? Take pictures?”
Colin’s cheeks flush a little. “Oh... uhm, that’s what I usually do.”
Cormac rolls his eyes. “You don’t visit the shops?”
Looking a little flustered, Colin hunches his shoulders and looks down, as
though he’s being chastised. He mumbles, “I... um... I dunno; I guess those are
sort of for going with... with friends, or...” He looks up at Cormac
pleadingly, chewing his bottom lip.
Cormac’s trademark smirk is instantly back in place, and he practically purrs,
“Do you want me to take you to Hogsmeade, Colin?”
Colin nods eagerly, suddenly all smiles. Cormac’s chest puffs up. Obviously,
everything is better with Cormac involved. Colin seems to completely understand
this, and he asks, a little nervously and breathlessly, “Can I... can I take
pictures of you there...?”
“Of course,” Cormac answers, before digging back into his cereal, like he was
doing before Colin came along. Mouth full of whole-wheat hoops, Cormac manages,
“I look stunning in any setting.”
Colin’s grin reaches his eyes; it’s clear he couldn’t agree more.
===============================================================================
Colin shows up for their ‘date’ looking nothing short of adorable. He has to
bring robes of course, because it’s cold, but underneath he wears clinging,
dark trousers that look almost like leather, and a too-small, nearly sheer t-
shirt. The red-and-gold scarf around his neck drapes over his back. It’s clear
that he agonized over everything for hours; his hair is combed perfectly, and
his lips are a little shinier than usual; Cormac thinks he might be wearing
gloss. His bag is draped over his shoulder like usual, camera inside, and he
rubs his arms nervously while Cormac approaches him.
Cormac vanishes the robes in an instant (sending them back up to Gryffindor
Tower) and casts a quick warming spell. Colin tenses, but shyly mumbles, “Thank
you.”
Colin isn’t truly shy, really. He’s infuriatingly obnoxious in some situations,
hopelessly withdrawn in others. Cormac seems to be able to make him flustered
more times than not, and Cormac tugs Colin towards the path by the scarf.
Cormac’s wearing Muggle jeans and a sweater: nothing special. He doesn’t need
to dress up to look gorgeous, and Colin seems to agree. Colin tentatively wraps
his thin arms around Cormac’s sleeve, and when Cormac doesn’t protest, Colin
latches on like a particularly cute leech.
They pass plenty of Gryffindors on their way to Hogsmeade. They pass some
classmates of Cormac’s from other houses too, but he doesn’t pay them much
mind. He’s never been particularly concerned with what others think of him,
probably because he assumes it’s always good. Even if Colin is a boy, he’s a
very good looking one right now, and Cormac does think Colin looks good on his
arm. Colin’s lips shimmer while he talks, and Cormac tries very hard not to
picture them parted around his cock.
When they hit Hogsmeade, Colin spots a ladder leaning against the Three
Broomsticks. He instantly chirps, “Oh, perfect!” And he drags Cormac over to
it, placing the camera on a high rung and pressing some buttons.
Then he steps back and latches back onto Cormac’s arm, leaning his head on
Cormac’s shoulder. He says, “Cheese.” He sounds like he’s never been happier in
his whole life, and Cormac grins smugly.
As soon as the flash goes off, Colin’s nearly giddy. He runs back over to
retrieve his camera, and he says a tad breathlessly, “Sorry! Where do you want
to go?”
Cormac’s idly wondering whether buying a room at the Three Broomsticks or not
is worth it. Probably not. Colin’s a cheap date; it isn’t necessary. Cormac
isn’t a cheap boyfriend, but at the moment, he’s more than happy to buy Colin
some treats instead.
They go to Honeydukes first, and Cormac buys several packs of Drooble’s Best
Blowing Gum and sugar quills for Colin. ...Mostly because he likes seeing
Colin’s mouth in motion. Colin’s ecstatic, like he’s never had anyone buy him a
present before. Or maybe just no one as handsome as Cormac. Cormac sucks in all
the gratitude and eventually tugs Colin out the door. They visit a number of
other places but spend the most time at the Shrieking Shack, Colin taking all
sorts of photos of Cormac posed dramatically in front of it and up against the
fence. Colin makes Cormac feel like a super model, and there’s nothing more
endearing than someone totally enamoured with him. When Cormac asks if Colin
wants to do anything else, Colin happily insists he could take photographs of
Cormac all day.
===============================================================================
Colin says, “Thank you,” for the Butterbeer about a thousand times. He sips at
it with too much tongue, licking it like a kitten with milk. He says he gets
the flavour more that way. He ran out of film a while ago, and now they’re
just... spending time together.
Cormac’s running his foot along Colin’s leg under the table, and Colin’s biting
his lip and trying to follow the conversation. Cormac’s explaining what he’s
going to do when he graduates—a plan which occasionally changes. “...But I
think I’d make an excellent Keeper for the Tornadoes, and given my connections,
I imagine I’ll get in.”
Colin breathes, “Wow,” sounding genuinely impressed.
It isn’t Cormac’s usual style, but he actually finds himself asking, “And you?”
Then his lips quirk, and he adds, “As if it isn’t obvious...”
Blushing, Colin nods. “Y-yeah, a photographer... if I can manage.”
“You’ll manage,” Cormac says bluntly, between sips. “I’ve seen your work—you’re
good.” ...Although, that might be because he’s the model.
Colin still lights up like a star. “Thank you. I... used to have more tenacity
for it. It’s a hard industry.”
“You’ll do fine,” Cormac repeats.
Colin buries his blush in his Butterbeer. Cormac hits the end of his and peers
at the bottom, wondering if he should order more. He’s hungry, but... not for
that. He’s still playing with Colin’s leg, and he puts his glass down with a
heavy thunk. They’re in the Hog’s Head, because there’s too much traffic in the
Three Broomsticks. They can get some privacy here. ...And it’s slow, and no one
will check the bathrooms. Cormac climbs out of their table, reaching a hand
over. Colin looks up at him, then down at the remaining Butterbeer.
“You can finish it after,” Cormac tells him. “C’mon.”
Colin tilts his head, as if to ask ‘after what?’ But he gets out of his seat
and takes Cormac’s hand, and Cormac weaves them between the dusty tables.
There’s an old hag at the back whose eyes linger too long, which Cormac can’t
blame her for. Colin swings his hips a bit too much when he walks; he’s always
full of excitement. It’s been mildly torturous for Cormac all day, and he’s
been looking forward to this.
The Hog’s Head bathroom isn’t much. There’re only three stalls, and they’re all
cramped, and there’s toilet paper on the floor, and one of the ceiling lights
is burnt out. The mirror’s cracked, and the door doesn’t have a lock—Cormac
takes out his wand and taps it. Then he grabs Colin’s collar without a word and
drags him into the middle stall. Colin squeaks but follows as obediently as
ever. His bag is still over his shoulder. The stall is cramped—Cormac drops the
toilet seat and closes their stall door, locking it too, just in case.
Then he sits down on the seat and spreads his legs—pushing Colin down to the
floor. Colin’s bag slumps over his shoulder, and he looks up at Cormac with as
wide eyes as always.
“I had a good day today,” Cormac says. “You were a very good date.” He knows he
sounds a little condescending, but that’s part of the game. Cormac’s putting
Colin in his place. Cormac pets Colin’s head affectionately and croons, “Do you
know what would make it even better?”
Colin nervously shifts on his knees, looking sideways. After a minute he
mumbles, “It’s dirty in here...” Which is a fair point; Cormac does deserve
better. But there’s often an element of fun to lesser dangers.
Cormac bends down to trace his tongue along Colin’s ear—Colin shivers
deliciously. Cormac holds his head in place, thumbing his cheek, and purrs in a
very low voice, “I want you to be dirty, Colin. I want you to be filthy for
me...” Cormac hasn’t tried degrading dirty talk before, so it’s a bit of a
gamble, but he stays light and it has the desired effect. Colin shivers again,
eyes sliding closed, and his lips part in a silent gasp. Cormac nibbles on his
earlobe and continues, “Haven’t I been good to you all day? It’s because I like
you, Colin. I bought you all those treats because you’re such a good boy for
me. But don’t you think the day would be even better if you had one more
treat...?”
Colin moans. Cormac chuckles and presses one hand against the back of his head,
pushing him closer. Cormac thrusts his hips out, holding Colin only a few
centimeters away from his crotch, and Colin blinks his heavy eyes open, dilated
and clearly as turned on as Cormac is. Cormac still waits for him to take a
deep breath and mumble, “I... I’ve never done this before...” His brows twitch;
for a moment, he looks genuinely worried that his inexperience will ruin
things.
But Cormac insists, “That’s okay.” He tugs Colin closer still—Colin’s leaning
forward, back arched beautifully. Cormac keeps petting his hair, like soothing
a skittish animal. Colin licks his lips—they’re already shining from the gloss
and the drinks, looking so fuckable it should be a crime. “I’m sure you’ll be
very good at it, with a skilled mouth like yours... you look like you were made
to suck cock; it’ll be worth it just for me to see it even if you didn’t move
at all. ...But I’m sure you’ll move, because you’re such an eager little
thing...”
Colin’s face is screwed up, almost conflicted. Maybe he doesn’t know if that’s
a compliment or not. But he licks his lips, and he looks up at Cormac, nodding.
Infinitely pleased, Cormac pecks Colin’s forehead while he unzips his trousers,
massaging himself through the fabric. When he pulls back, he gestures for
Colin’s hands—Colin obediently raises them.
Cormac moves them to the front of his trousers, and Colin, always the fast
learner, takes Cormac out with trembling fingers. Cormac moans instantly—his
cock looks so big in Colin’s tiny hands, and Colin looks at it with so much
lust that it’s intoxicating. For a minute, Colin just idly thumbs the base like
Cormac’s taught him to do before. Cormac knows it’s more than that—he can see
the want for a picture in Colin’s eyes. Then he slowly pushes his head forward,
sticking out his tongue.
He gives it a soft lick before pulling away, blinking up at Cormac. Cormac
grins appreciatively, and Colin smiles back. Colin turns back to the large cock
in his hand, leaning forward for another lick. He doesn’t seem to mind the
taste; once his confidence goes up, he goes back again and again for more. When
Cormac moans, it seems to spur Colin on; Colin presses his pink tongue to the
base and drags it all the way up to the tip, holding the other side flat
against it with his hand. Cormac moans again, and Colin starts lapping at it
enthusiastically, nuzzling his face into it and breathing in deeply.
Cormac wants more. But he doesn’t want to deter Colin, so he groans, “That’s
very good, you’re doing so well...” before he asks, “...Now why don’t you suck
on it a little?”
Colin nods and parts his lips, wrapping them around the side. He’s carefully
with his teeth without even needing to be told, and he sucks on the sensitive
skin, like he’s going to give a hickey. It isn’t what Cormac meant, but it
still feels amazing. His fingers are tangling absently through Colin’s hair,
and he tugs Colin up—Colin trails kisses and tongue and suction all the way up
to the head. Colin keeps his hands around Cormac’s base, holding him upright,
gently cupping his balls. Cormac holds Colin’s head over the tip; Colin opens
even wider.
Cormac doesn’t need to push Colin down. Colin wraps his lips around the head of
his own accord, sucking it up into his mouth right away. Cormac groans, and
Colin runs his tongue around it, pressing tentatively into the slit and tracing
little circles, exploring and experimenting. He sucks the whole time, just a
bit, but it’s still amazing. His cheeks are flushed, his lashes down, his
pupils dilated—he looks like something out of one of Cormac’s dirty magazines.
After a moment, Cormac taps the back of Colin’s neck gently. It’s a signal he
wants Colin to go lower, but he doesn’t want to choke Colin. Colin looks up at
Cormac with complete innocence painted all over his face: the picture of
debauchery.
Cormac thinks that if Colin doesn’t make it as a photographer, he could always
be a porn star. He’s a natural at sucking cock, and he clearly knows his way
around a camera. He tries to go a bit lower down, just a tiny bit at a time,
tongue flat along the bottom. It takes every bit of willpower Cormac has not to
wildly buck up into Colin’s mouth. He can feel Colin struggling around him, hot
and hard, teeth scraping slightly. But Colin’s as open as he can be, and he
does his best.
Colin can’t go all the way—not on his first time. Cormac doesn’t want to make
him, even though he’d probably look great at the base. Colin looks up
pleadingly when he gets about halfway down—his eyes are slightly watery. He
looks like he desperately wants to try and take more, but he just can’t. Cormac
can feel the back of Colin’s throat against his tip, and he isn’t cruel enough
to force his way down. He tugs at the back of Colin’s hair, signaling that
Colin can go back up.
Colin does, breathing heavily though his nose. He doesn’t go off completely,
but his lips slide back to just the head, and he mouths it slowly while he
regains his breathing. Then he slides back down, a little faster this time, and
when he gets as far as he can go, he sucks hard. His cheeks completely hollow
out, and Cormac throws his head back, moaning. His hips are trembling from the
effort of staying down—he can’t wait until he trains Colin properly at this,
until he can fuck Colin’s mouth any time with reckless abandon. Colin sucks on
Cormac’s cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and before long, he’s
fucking himself on it, bobbing up and down like a pro.
If the camera had any film left, Cormac would push Colin off and come all over
him, taking a myriad of snapshots. But it isn’t, and they’re in public. So he
fists tight in Colin’s hair when he feels his balls tightening, jerking and
holding Colin down. Cormac explodes a second later—Colin makes a startled
choking sound. Cormac holds him still, coming in short, hot bursts down his hot
throat. Colin stills and takes it, swallowing awkwardly.
Cormac doesn’t let go until a few seconds after, and then Colin pulls off,
spluttering and wiping at his mouth. Cormac takes a moment just to luxuriating
in the afterglow. Then he pulls out his wand and cleans himself up, tucking
himself back in. Colin lifts up on his knees, one hand on the toilet seat
between Cormac’s legs, leaning forward.
Cormac moves to meet Colin halfway. He can taste himself on Colin’s lips, but
he still kisses Colin hard and deep. There’s a Butterbeer flavour underneath,
and Colin looks so inexplicably dreamy and content that Cormac feels like he’s
won a grand prize.
***** After *****
The Room of Requirements is an odd sort of Greek-contemporary mix today. Cormac
posed a bit in a toga, and now he’s completely naked. He lounges across the
settee on his stomach, chin in one hand, smirking towards the lens. Colin is
flittering around him, snapping pictures from every conceivable angle, and
Cormac lazily switches positions every few shots. When he rolls onto his back,
Colin hesitates. Cormac throws his hands beneath his head and bends one leg,
flexing all his muscles. He coaxes, “Go on.”
Colin takes a moment just to admire, and then he lifts the camera, stepping
back to take one long, full body picture. Cormac feels like an Adonis being
properly worshiped. Idly, Cormac wonders if Colin ever uses any other models,
but he quickly dismisses the thought. There shouldn’t be a need for any others.
Cormac’s the best there is, and he can be everything Colin needs.
Cormac closes his eyes peacefully, head tilting up. The sounds of clicking and
shifting footsteps wash over him, and he almost dozes off. But Colin taps his
shoulder, squealing excitedly, “Er... could I maybe get you to lean against the
column over there?” Cormac twists around to look at where Colin’s gesturing.
Then he decides, “Sure.” He stretches when he sits up, smirking as Colin
quickly takes a few more pictures. Cormac strolls across the cold tile to the
marble wall, crossing his arms and leaning back against the column. His hips
jut out proudly—Colin bites his lip as he flashes some more pictures.
Cormac’s a good model. He’s mostly quiet, luxuriating in the thrill of the
attention. He follows all of Colin’s instructions, and he provides his own
poses, and he looks damn good in every one. A few times they dress and leave
the room, only to come in to a different setting. They’re in a sort of woodland
cottage by the end of it, Cormac stretched out on a bearskin rug in front of
the fire. The flames cast a gorgeous orange glow around him, and he stays a
little too close, letting the sweat bead up around his muscles. He slides one
hand down to his cock, and Colin moans and clicks faster while Cormac strokes
himself. Colin keeps stepping closer.
At one point, Cormac grabs his ankle. Colin squeaks like a cornered animal, and
Cormac drags him closer—Colin hops forward to oblige. Cormac puts Colin’s foot
down on his other side, so that Colin’s standing over him. Colin looks down
through his lens, cheeks red around the edges of it.
Cormac settles back in and grins winningly. Colin takes a few shots, and then
he crouches a little lower, getting some close-ups. Cormac reaches out one hand
to climb up Colin’s stomach, grabbing Colin’s tie so he can’t stand back up.
Colin lowers the camera.
Cormac takes it out of his hands, muttering, “You know, I think I’d like a few
photos too.”
“Oh,” Colin starts. “I... I’m not really a model...”
“You look good enough naked,” Cormac insists, already tugging at Colin’s
buttons. Colin’s cheeks go even redder, but he doesn’t protest. “Just a few,”
Cormac says. Because he doesn’t need a lot of pictures; usually when he’s
horny, he’ll want Colin in person, and he’s sure he’ll get Colin in person. The
raunchy photos he’s going to take will be just for emergencies.
Colin climbs off Cormac, sitting down in the furry rug. He helps get his shirt
off and lets Cormac take off his trousers, and he lies down beside Cormac when
Cormac pushes him there. He doesn’t pose like Cormac does when the camera
starts going again, but he smiles sheepishly and still looks great.
When he’s done, Cormac carefully puts the camera aside, and he crawls over to
Colin like the feral beast Colin makes him.
===============================================================================
When Cormac’s last dorm-mate falls asleep, Cormac heads back down to the common
room. Colin’s obediently waiting where he was told, finishing off an essay for
Herbology. Cormac waits for him to pack up and put his stuff away, and then
Cormac tugs him by the wrist up the spiral stairs.
Colin looks eagerly around the seventh year dormitory, as though he’s being let
into something secret and marvelous. Cormac puts a finger to his lips—they need
to be quiet—the silencing spells are only around his bed. Colin nods and
follows over to the four-poster. As soon as the curtains close behind them,
Cormac’s on Colin, smashing their lips together.
There’s an excitement in Colin every time they do this: like every time Cormac
picks him Colin’s surprised and overjoyed. It puffs up Cormac’s chest and goes
straight to his head, and he knows Colin won’t mind. Cormac’s built to be a
star, and Colin’s built to be a groupie. Even if it isn’t the typical
relationship dynamic, there’s something fascinating and hot about it, and it
holds Cormac’s interest in a way others never have. There’s a wild spark
between their bodies. He doesn’t give Colin any chance to breathe—he just
starts attacking Colin’s clothing, peeling off his robes and tie.
Colin helps divest himself of everything, and then they’re unbuttoning Cormac’s
shirt, and Colin mumbles, “I... I don’t have any pajamas with me...”
“I sleep nude,” Cormac says, like it’s obvious. “You can too.”
Colin bites his lip and nods, looking like he’s trying very hard to restrain
his giddiness. Soon Cormac has a pile of clothes to kick under his mattress,
and he shifts back up to get under the covers, holding them up for Colin to
join. Colin does and immediately turns to Cormac, but Cormac pushes him the
other way. Cormac wraps around his body, chest to back, pulling Colin tight
against him. Colin writhes and moans at the contact; Cormac’s already semi-hard
and pressing into Colin’s tight ass. They fit together like they were made to
be this way; Cormac kisses Colin’s shoulder.
Colin doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They curl and twitch
against his chest, and Cormac runs his all over Colin’s body, touching him
everywhere. Colin’s skin is all smooth, all soft, all warm. Cormac kisses
Colin’s ear and nibbles it lightly, hands slipping around Colin’s stomach.
There’s a tuft of golden hair that Cormac pets and trails through, until he
reaches Colin’s pulsing cock. It jumps excitedly as soon as Cormac touches it,
and Colin instantly gasps. Cormac chuckles and uses his other hand to hold
Colin’s chest tight, grinding them fiercely together. He plays with Colin’s
nipples while he wraps his fingers around Colin’s dick. It’s smaller than
Cormac’s, but it still feels full and perfect, warm and deliciously alive. It
only takes a few pumps for Colin’s tip to start spilling precum—Cormac slicks
it down the base and uses it for lube.
To be honest, Cormac’s never jerked off another boy before. He’s never even
thought about it. Even when he fucks girls, he isn’t usually one to retaliate.
He just touches everything he wants to and gets himself off. But he doesn’t
want that with Colin, and especially in a position like this, it isn’t that
different from jerking off himself. A few more strokes, and Colin’s a writhing
mess, panting and whimpering like the wanton thing Cormac wants. Cormac reaches
down to squeeze his balls, and Colin gasps, “C-Cormac!”
Cormac nuzzles into the back of Colin’s hair and resumes stroking properly. It
doesn’t take long for Colin’s whole body to tense, arching beautifully and
screaming his release, shooting out across Cormac’s hand and the blankets.
Cormac lifts up on his elbow to see Colin’s face mid-orgasm, and he instantly
wishes they’d brought the camera. Colin looks utterly rapturous. His mouth is
open wide, his cheeks are pink, his eyes are barely open, and his bangs are a
sweat-slicked mess on his forehead. He tries to say Cormac’s name again, but
sound seems to fail him.
Then he collapses in Cormac’s arms, and Cormac reaches through his curtains to
the nightstand. He grabs his wand and casts the usual cleaning spell. Colin
weakly mumbles, “Sorry.” He sounds shy, and he buries his face in the pillow.
“Don’t be.” Cormac settles back in against him, pulling him up tight. Colin
purrs contentedly, fitting just right again, just like he should. “You did
well.”
Colin unburies his face and glances tentatively over his shoulder. Cormac
kisses his cheek. It’s dark, but he can still see Colin light up. “...Thanks.”
Then, without even having to be asked, he suddenly rolls around in Cormac’s
arms. He shuffles under the blankets, and Cormac rolls onto his back. He wants
to fall asleep curled around Colin, but he’ll definitely take this in the
meantime.
Cormac doesn’t stop smiling all night.
===============================================================================
“I’m going to move out next year,” Cormac boasts, because he’s been saving the
money every summer, and his parents can afford to help. “I’m gonna get a nice
pad in London—probably a two bedroom. Something with a fireplace so I can Floo
around and shit.”
“That’s so cool,” Colin sighs, because he’s insanely impressed with everything
Cormac does. “Is it going to be like a loft?”
“Right out of a magazine.” Cormac nods as he stuffs another bagel into his
mouth—Colin look dreamily off into the distance, like he’s already imagining
how Cormac will decorate it. Once he’s chewed enough to talk around it, Cormac
insists, “You’ll have to come over sometime.”
“Really?” Shock mixes in with Colin’s ecstasy, and Cormac wonders absently if
it’s just him acting oddly honoured as usual or if it’s more than that. It
belatedly occurs to Cormac that Colin might not have thought this would
continue next year, both over the summer and once Colin’s in school and Cormac
isn’t. Cormac’s face scrunches up while he thinks about it—that hadn’t occurred
to him either.
Usually, Cormac doesn’t make commitments. But when he pictures his own
apartment, he can’t not picture Colin popping up around it, lying in his bed or
stepping into his shower, or maybe cooking him breakfast in a spacious
kitchenette. Naked, of course, with just an apron. If they were in Cormac’s
apartment, there wouldn’t ever be a need for clothes. He could have Colin’s
photographs blown up and put them all over the walls—gorgeous portraits of
Cormac’s body. Colin would probably love it, and Colin would be such a good
boyfriend to come home to.
Cormac just says, “Of course,” and finishes his bagel. He can’t help but think
that dinners would be better just between the two of them, alone at his table,
not in the busy, bustling hall. Cormac’s bored with school anyway, but this is
really making him realize how anxious he is to graduate.
Colin will take a few years, but he’ll catch up. It won’t be so hard—Cormac can
get him a portkey and sneak him out all the time. Cormac can fuck Colin
senseless all over his brand new apartment, then ship Colin back whenever he
gets bored.
Colin looks into his pumpkin juice and mutters, “I wish I could get an
apartment. I have to share a room with Dennis, and it sucks.”
Cormac’s a dog. He doesn’t at all hesitate to picture Colin wrapped around his
younger brother, both whining about wanting to be in Cormac’s bed. The thought
makes him grin, but he says condolingly, “That sucks.” ...He’s met Dennis once
or twice and doesn’t have any interest in him. But Cormac will jump to picture
Colin naked over anything, in any sort of kinky way. He would, though, prefer
Colin in his bed over the summer.
Colin nods. “I love Hogwarts. I mean, I loved it before, but... now I really
do.”
Cormac grins. Naturally, he makes everything better. He grabs another bagel and
says, “You’ll like my place better.”
“I bet,” Colin chirps.
Cormac shifts his foot forward, hitting and resting against Colin’s.
***** First *****
Cormac isn’t particularly great with his schoolwork, but he’s more than
adequate on problems two years below him. They’re in the back of the library
now, in a table tucked behind the shelves. Colin’s struggling with Potions, and
Cormac says, “No, you’re supposed to use Wiggenweld for that.”
“Oh!” Colin’s quill scratches over a few words, and he fills it back in
properly. He looks at Cormac, and Cormac nods.
“Yeah, that looks good, then.”
Smiling broadly, Colin chirps, “Thanks! ...I really appreciate you helping me
with this, Cormac.”
“Don’t mention it.” Except that Cormac likes when Colin mentions it; it puffs
him up. Part of the fun is knowing he’s older and wiser and having Colin look
up to him. Colin adds the next paragraph without too much trouble, and Cormac
just sort of supervises.
And daydreams about Colin really looking up to him. Perhaps from under the
table. Between his legs. Because Cormac’s not into patience, he leans a bit
closer, dropping his hand onto Colin’s thigh. Colin looks up immediately, quill
stilling. Cormac raises an eyebrow, grinning, and trails his hand down to
Colin’s crotch, squeezing it lightly.
Colin gasps, hand flying to cover his mouth. They’re surrounded by bookshelves,
and there’s no one to see them. Cormac leans closer, purring quietly into
Colin’s ear, “Want to show me just how much you appreciate it?”
Colin mumbles through his fingers, “We’re in the library...”
“It’s a big table; no one will see you.”
Colin looks to both sides before twisting in his chair and checking over his
shoulder. There isn’t anyone there, either. Then he looks back at Cormac, who
looks pointedly at the table and back at Colin. Biting his lip, Colin glances
at the (almost finished) essay. Then he nods slowly. He shifts his chair back
as quietly as possible, and his head swivels rapidly in both directions as he
climbs under. Cormac leans back in his chair with a smug grin; he always gets
what he wants.
He spreads his legs and bites off a groan as Colin shuffles up between them,
hands shaking on Cormac’s zipper. Cormac reaches a hand under to thumb Colin’s
cheek affectionately. Encouraged, Colin takes out Cormac’s cock.
Then he licks his lips, red and pouting as always. Colin gives the shaft a few
licks before hovering over the top, slipping the head inside. Cormac bites his
cheek to stifle a moan, face screwing up. He slumps back, trying to get as much
of a good view as possible. The shadow of the table swallows Colin up, but his
blush shines through. He starts bobbing up and down without having to be told,
taking a bit more every time and slicking it up. Cormac keeps one hand loose
against the back of Colin’s head—he just generally likes touching Colin. Colin
seems to like sucking his cock; there’s a heavy lust in those brown eyes that
couldn’t be artificial.
When Colin gets about halfway down, Cormac grunts quietly, “Play with my
balls.” Colin tries to nod, and he reaches up to tug at Cormac’s sac, gently
rolling them around his palm. Colin’s getting good at this—a natural talent. It
doesn’t take long for Cormac to be on edge; Colin gets three quarters down and
sucks for all he’s worth. Cormac pistons his hips forward a bit, muttering,
“Yeah, take that, you love it...”
Colin blushes like he always does when Cormac talks even remotely dirty. A
minute later, Cormac’s balls are tightening, and he bursts inside Colin’s
mouth. Colin makes a surprised spluttering sound, but he’s careful to keep his
mouth open, and he takes it. Cormac holds Colin’s head in place, gritting his
teeth not to moan, and he thrusts into Colin’s throat until it’s all out.
He doesn’t let Colin pull away until he hears Colin swallow. Then he lets go,
and Colin slips off.
Cormac takes a second to dig out his wand, cleaning up and tucking back in.
Colin licks his lips and wipes them on the back of his hand, looking
wonderfully debauched. Cormac reaches down to help him back into his seat. Then
Cormac leans over, kissing him hard.
===============================================================================
It’s not a Gryffindor match, but they’re watching anyway. Quidditch is in
Cormac’s blood, and he cheers Ravenclaw on as they zoom across the pitch. He’s
surrounded by a thick knot of red and yellow done up blue and grey, cheering
and jeering at different players. Colin’s standing next to him, camera going
off wildly. Slytherin gets the Quaffle and Cormac curses loudly at them. He can
feel Colin jump at his foul language, but he doesn’t turn it down. Quidditch
matches are meant to be earsplitting and boisterous. When Cormac graduates and
gets on a professional team, he imagines Colin will be his personal paparazzi,
sending photos to all the big magazines.
Slytherin scores, and Cormac stops shouting profanities long enough to yell at
Colin, over the general din, “What’re you taking pictures of them winning for?”
Colin’s camera lowers. There’s a roar in Cormac’s ears that won’t go away. His
dorm-mates are all around them, and they’re louder than ever. This is their
last year, and Gerald’s got his whole face painted blue, and Leonard has a fake
raven perched on his head like a hat. Colin sticks out like a sore thumb
amongst them, small and still red and yellow. Colin shrugs and mumbles
something that Cormac can’t hear.
Cormac shakes his head and looks back at the match—Ravenclaw’s got the Quaffle
now. They score and the crowd goes wild.
Cormac turns to Colin and grabs his head, knocking the camera out of the way to
smash their lips together.
===============================================================================
Colin got his essay back. A perfect ‘O.’ He credits Cormac for it, even though
Cormac’s sure Colin would’ve done fine on his own. Cormac helps him with his
Transfiguration homework, and then he pulls Colin up the stairs, even though
Leonard’s on his bed with the curtains open. He doesn’t say anything—Cormac
getting laid isn’t anything new.
Colin blushes like the virgin he is, but Cormac just puts the curtains and
silencing spells up around them like it’s nothing. He divests Colin slowly of
his clothing, stripping down right after, making out the whole time and
touching every bit of skin. Cormac lays Colin down in the mattress like a new
bride, nestling his head safely in the pillows and straddling his waist. Cormac
leans over him, careful not to crush him, and holds Colin’s hands. Colin’s such
a good boy. He lies still and kisses back timidly, then fervently, until Cormac
parts their lips to kiss a trail down Colin’s chin.
Cormac kisses Colin’s jaw, his throat, his shoulder. Cormac dips his tongue
into Colin’s collarbone and trails it down his chest, veering off to suck on
Colin’s nipple. It pebbles almost instantly, and Cormac rolls it around in his
mouth, and Colin’s breath hitches, his body arching into it. Cormac holds him
down and licks over to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. He
worships Colin’s body with his tongue like Colin worships his with the camera,
and he finds he likes this role just as much. Colin doesn’t have Cormac’s
strong muscles or golden skin, but his lithe curves and pale complexion are
just as good. Cormac licks down to Colin’s bellybutton, sticking in his tongue
and loving the way Colin moans.
When he reaches Colin’s cock, Colin’s voice cracks in a gasp. It’s adorable and
incredibly erotic, and Cormac kiss his way through the short, light curls
around Colin’s crotch. He strokes Colin with one hand and shifts past it, only
pressing one lingering, chaste kiss to the base. Then he licks his way down
Colin’s balls, and he lifts one of Colin’s legs over his shoulder. Colin
obediently lifts the other one, giving Cormac full access and an amazing view.
Colin’s tiny hole is possibly the most alluring thing Cormac’s ever seen. It’s
pink and puckered, and Cormac pulls Colin’s ass cheeks apart to get a better
look. Cormac licks his lips—it’s going to be a challenge to get in there.
Just to be sure, he glances up, asking, “You trust me, don’t you?”
Colin nods and instantly says, “Of course.”
Smirking, Cormac nods. “...I’m going to touch you a bit, and then, if you’re
really good, I’m going to fuck you, okay?”
Colin goes beet red, right to his ears, but he nods.
“It might hurt at first, since you’re new to this,” Cormac continues. He pumps
Colin’s cock with one hand for a distraction, and it seems to be working. He
pulls his palm back to spit in it, and then gets a firmer grip, and Colin
gasps. Cormac gives it a little squeeze. “It’ll feel good, though, if you
relax. I’m really good at it, so you don’t need to worry.”
Looking overwhelmed, Colin moans happily, “You’re good at everything.”
The smirk on Cormac’s face nearly reaches his ears. He knows he’s a damn good
boyfriend, but it’s wonderful to have someone that actually appreciates it. To
get started, Cormac blows out across Colin’s hole—it spasms deliciously, and
Colin squeaks.
Colin makes the best noises. Especially in bed. It isn’t hard to make him
writhe, isn’t hard to make him moan. Cormac leans forward and sticks out his
tongue—lightly tapping Colin’s twitching hole. Colin instantly shrieks—when
Cormac looks up, his head is thrown back and his hands are fisting tightly in
the pillow.
Cormac presses his tongue in harder, clutching Colin’s cock out of the way.
Colin’s already hard in his hand, and Cormac doesn’t stroke it anymore, just
holds it firm. He covers Colin’s hole in long, broad strokes, getting it wet,
and then he opens his mouth and kisses it—Colin’s thighs are trembling with the
effort not to move.
To be honest, Cormac’s never done this before. He’s thought about it though,
because he’s got a dick, and he’s thought about every raunchy possibility out
there. It’s hard to find someone with an asshole worth sucking, but Colin has
it. Every time Cormac stops to just admire it, he’s overwhelmed with how
fucking hot Colin looks. His wet, puckered hole is gorgeous, and Cormac feels
like it’s calling out to his dick. He dives back in to press his tongue hard
against it—the furrowed muscles open up around him. Colin wails, and Cormac
pistons his tongue in and out. He gets farther and farther, stretching it wider
and wider, mouth open as far as it’ll go. When he pulls out, Colin whines
immediately, looking down. Cormac replaces his tongue with a finger—Colin
winces but takes it. Gently moving his finger in and out, Cormac mumbles, “Get
my wand, okay? It’s on the nightstand.”
Colin reaches through the curtains without looking. Then he pulls Cormac’s wand
through and holds it out—Cormac takes it and straightens up. He keeps his other
hand inside Colin, and he’s slipping in a second finger in no time. He taps
Colin’s stomach for a quick spell—Colin’s eyes go wide. The tight channel
around Cormac’s finger opens a bit and slicks up, a warm liquid dribbling out.
He keeps scissoring it apart though—he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt
Colin. Another spell and his own dick’s wet, and he pumps it a few times to
keep it hard.
Cormac tosses his wand aside on the bed, shuffling up and picking up Colin’s
legs again. He has to bend them over his shoulders one at a time, because he
now has three fingers knuckle-deep in Colin’s ass. Colin stares at him and asks
quietly, “W... what about a condom...?”
“Pfft,” Cormac scoffs, because he’s fucked Muggle girls before and that concept
still blows his mind. “I don’t want to put a bag over my dick, Colin.”
Colin’s eyebrows knit together, and he squirms. Cormac gives him a mildly
exasperated expression until he says what’s clearly on his mind. “B-but...
protection...”
Cormac twists his finger inside Colin as a sort of cruel punishment—Colin gasps
and throws his head to the side. Grinning, Cormac laughs, “Are you saying I’m
dirty? It’s not like I’m not going to get you pregnant...”
Whimpering, Colin shakes his head. He mumbles, “Sorry,” cheeks red, even though
Cormac can tell he’s still thinking about it.
Bending down bends Colin’s legs, until his knees hit his shoulders, and Cormac
says quietly, done teasing, “It’s okay. Protection spells are built into that
lube spell I used—it’ll work better than Muggle contraception anyway.”
Colin first looks shocked, then relieved. He’s made it through five years, and
he’s still learning things about the wizarding world. Every time Cormac gets to
show him something, it’s a wonderful memory all over again, something Cormac
locks away. If he ever leaves Colin—which he’s now wondering if he ever
will—he’ll have a wealth of good memories that all his other relationships
combined could never reach.
Cormac doesn’t want to lean back up—he wants to kiss Colin senseless. But he
also wants to see his cock disappear inside Colin, and that spurs him on. He
sits back up and slips his fingers out, and Colin whines. Cormac presses his
tip to the stretched ring, hoping the spells will be enough to make it not
hurt. Colin’s chewing his bottom lip, and Cormac asks, “Are you ready?”
Opening his mouth, it looks like Colin’s going to say yes. Then he shakes his
head suddenly, and darts his hands up to Cormac; Cormac has to lean a bit
forward for them to touch him. When Colin’s fingertips are on Cormac’s
shoulders, he nods and murmurs, “Okay.”
Cormac thrusts forward shallowly, just hard enough to force his tip inside. As
soon as it pops in, Colin throws his head back, mouth wide, and Cormac leans
down so those nimble fingers can clutch at him. Cormac grits his teeth and
starts pressing in a bit more, centimeter by centimeter, crawling forward. It
feels absolutely amazing. There’s a pleasure rush that runs straight up his
spine. Even with the stretching spell, Colin feels too tight to be real.
He only gets about a third of the way in before Colin makes a pained sound,
face scrunching up. Cormac stops immediately, panting heavily. He’s never, ever
stopped during sex before, but he does now. He always would if explicitly told,
but with Colin, the quick sound is enough. He leans down to kiss Colin’s
forward, and he grits out, “Relax,” while fighting the urge to fuck Colin into
the mattress.
He’ll do that someday, of course. Once he’s trained Colin to take his cock like
a proper boyfriend. But right now he’s going to go slow and careful—he’s going
to treat Colin right. Colin wraps his arms tightly around Cormac, clinging and
trembling. He shifts his bottom, and Cormac grunts. After a moment, he mumbles,
“O... okay... you can... you can go...”
Cormac doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts slowly pressing forward again,
even though Colin’s ass doesn’t seem to want to take it. The heat is
overwhelming, and the pressure makes it hard to see straight. Cormac presses
on, because he knows it’ll feel even better once he’s fully inside. He watches
Colin’s face and kisses it softly, until Colin blinks his eyes open, looking up
at Cormac. Those brown eyes are so beautiful that Cormac can hardly stand it.
He kisses Colin right between them, and he strokes the sides of Colin’s face,
cupping it and cherishing it. When he finally, finally gets all the way in, he
can’t hold back his moan. Colin screws up his face again, but Cormac’s almost
too horny to care.
Cormac forces himself to shift though, before he melts into an animal. He
presses tentatively forward, then angles his body differently, then slides out
a bit, then pushes back in, until Colin cries out suddenly, hands clawing in
Cormac’s back. Cormac memorizes that angle and starts to pull out.
When he gets to the head, he immediately slams back in, brushing the right spot
and making Colin scream. Cormac pulls back out and does it again, and Colin
looks like a gorgeous, ruined angel, pale and perfect, light and beautiful,
debauched and destroyed. Cormac starts wildly thrusting into him, unable to
help it. Cormac wants to go slow. He wants to make love. But Colin’s too
fucking hot, and he’s too amazingly tight, and Cormac also just generally wants
to fuck him hard. Colin doesn’t seem to mind. He pants like a dog and holds on
tight, desperate and needy, ankles tense against the small of Cormac’s back.
Cormac pounds into him, over and over.
It’s easily the best sex Cormac has ever had, hands down. Deflowering virgins
always is, but there’s something about it being Colin that makes it mean so
much more. No matter what happens now, Colin will always know that Cormac was
the first to have him. Cormac was the first person to make him scream, and
Cormac wants to be the last and every time in between. Colin’s so, so
unbelievably tight, and it feels nothing short of perfect. It’s sheer,
unadulterated ecstasy. Cormac can hardly think straight. He trails his hands
down to reach under Colin’s lithe body, pulling him up, arching him forward, so
every bit of skin that can be touching is. They’re stuck together with sweat,
and Cormac frees one hand to slide between their stomachs, wrapping around
Colin’s hard cock. He jerks Colin off while he fucks Colin hard, and Colin is
shrieking nonsense, erotically rambling, “Yes, oh, yes, Cormac, ohhh, oh right
there! Yes!”
Cormac loves vocal lovers. He loves to hear exactly how amazing he is in bed;
he loves hearing people crumble beneath him. He plunders Colin and pumps Colin,
until it’s all too much, and Colin presses up into him, screaming, “Co—!”
As soon as Colin’s load shoots over Cormac’s hand, his ass spasms wildly,
ricocheting pleasure all up Cormac’s body. It’s sheer bliss, and that’s what
really pushes Cormac over. Colin’s barely done coming when Cormac follows, and
he bends to bite hard into Colin’s shoulder, milking out one last scream. He
holds Colin’s hips down into him and pistons it all out, grinding hard,
splashing inside Colin’s tight ass. Colin’s still clutching his shoulders,
unable to let go. When Cormac lets go of Colin’s shoulder there’s a large,
angry bite left.
Good. He wants to mark Colin, and he doesn’t want to pull out. But he does
anyway, and Colin whimpers. Cormac watches his own cum slip out of Colin’s
abused hole with rapt fascination; it dribbles down his thighs and onto the
blankets.
Then Cormac collapses back on top of Colin, right where he belongs.
He feels around for his wand and casts a quick spell to put the blankets on top
instead of under them, making Colin squeak. Then he throws his wand to the
nightstand without bothering to clean up.
He wants Colin to wake up reeking of sex and sticky with Cormac’s dried cum.
Colin doesn’t protest. He looks satiated and overwhelmed, and perhaps a bit
close to passing out. Brushing Colin’s sweat-matted bangs out of his forehead,
Cormac drawls, “You okay?”
“That... was amazing.” Colin’s staring right up at the canopy ceiling—Cormac
snorts and nuzzles into him. Colin turns and snuggles right back, wondering,
“Was I alright?”
“You were perfect.”
Cormac kisses Colin hard, meaning it.
***** Other *****
Often, after Cormac actually fucks someone, the appeal all drains out.
That doesn’t happen with Colin. Cormac wakes up on the far side of his bed,
curled around Colin like a child with a teddy bear. They’re almost falling over
the edge, and Cormac scoots back a little, tugging Colin with him. It’s a
Saturday morning, and there isn’t any class, and Cormac isn’t sure why he
should have to get out of bed at all. The sunlight is bright through his
crimson curtains, but if he shuts his eyes tight enough, he can ignore it.
Colin’s warm all over. He’s like a personal heater, just for Cormac, and the
sweat from last night still shimmers on his skin. He smells like sex and man.
Cormac likes it. He’s grown attached to Colin. He means to have a peaceful
morning, but... before he knows it, he’s running his hands all over Colin’s
body. It isn’t even that sexual—he just likes touching Colin.
Colin twitches suddenly and makes an erotic moaning sort of sound, maybe just
waking up. Then he rolls over and blinks up at Cormac, squinting in the early
morning half-light. Cormac grins and fondly pats Colin’s cheek.
Colin mirrors the smile and snuggles into Cormac’s chest, closing his eyes
again and breathing out contentedly. Cormac bends down to kiss his forehead.
It’s a good morning.
===============================================================================
Cormac lets Colin pick what he wants the room to be, for once. When they step
inside, Cormac’s immediately taken aback, and it must show on his face, because
Colin’s falls.
The room is tiny and cramped, half clean and half a mess. There’s Muggle shit
everywhere, and there’re two little beds against the wall. There’s a curtained
off window and a half open closet full of Muggle clothes. It takes Cormac a
moment to realize what it is: Colin’s room.
Then he grins to himself, walking over to sit on the bed. Colin instantly
bustles after him, explaining, “Oh, no—that’s Dennis’—mine is the other one.”
Cormac rolls his eyes and gets up, walking over to the other bed. It seems
smaller, which makes Cormac peer at it curiously. “Aren’t you the older one?”
“Yeah, but he used to fall off when he was little, so he gets the double and I
get the single.”
Cormac nods. His own bed is a king-sized, because he’s a king and he deserves
it. “Wait, why didn’t you just enlarge it?”
“Enlarge it?” It takes Colin a second. “Oh, I didn’t even think of that...”
Cormac snorts. In a way, he does understand why Slytherins only want
purebloods.
But in another way, he doesn’t understand at all. A partner’s a partner, and
how much Colin knows about his culture doesn’t actually mean much to Cormac. If
anything, it makes it more fun to have that adventure to take Colin on. Colin
looks at Cormac like he’s a genius, and he leans back on the bed, asking,
“Where do you want me?”
“This is good,” Colin answers, shifting his bag off his shoulder and getting
out his camera. Cormac stretches out languidly. After a minute, he reaches down
to scrunch up his shirt a bit, giving a peek at his six-pack. Colin grins,
biting his lip and trying to stifle a blush.
The camera goes off, and Cormac gives it a smoldering look. Colin takes
another, then another. The familiar lightshow fills the small room, until
Cormac gets up and decides to pose by the closet. There’s a half-length mirror
on the inside of one door, and he pretends to examine himself in it while Colin
flitters around.
Cormac’s moved over to the window when he suggests, “You should send these to a
magazine.”
Colin stops, lowing the camera. He’s crouching on the ground, and he looks up
at Cormac with embarrassment painted all over his face. “...Maybe someday.”
“You’ll be a great photographer,” Cormac proclaims.
Colin looks like he’s never been happier, but he gets that way a lot with
Cormac.
===============================================================================
Cormac rounds the corner amongst a tight knit group of friends. He’s laughing
about the shit save Katie did yesterday at practice, and Leonard’s guffawing
like it’s the funniest thin he’s ever heard.
Then Cormac spots Colin across the courtyard, and he abruptly says, “I’ll catch
you guys later.”
He gets a few waves and a nonchalant, “See yah.” They keep moving, and he
marches across the grass. His classes are done for the day. He assumes Colin’s
are too, because Colin’s hunched over on the edge of the bench, looking
miserable.
He looks up as soon as Cormac’s shadow falls over him, and Cormac’s shocked to
see tears prickling the corner of his eyes. Cormac’s never been that good at
consoling anyone, and he mumbles thickly, “What’s the matter?”
Colin sniffs. Cormac drops his bag and takes a seat on the bench, shifting over
to throw his arm around Colin’s shoulders. There’re a few other students around
the courtyard, but no one in Cormac’s year, and he doesn’t care. Colin barely
manages, “I... I failed my Defense test!”
“Is that all?” Cormac didn’t mean to be an ass about it, but... that’s not
exactly the end of the world.
Colin shudders like it is, and he turns his head into Cormac’s shoulder,
nuzzling into it. His small body starts to wrack with sobs, and Cormac, feeling
silly, wraps his arms around Colin, squeezing and holding him tight. Colin
turns his whole body into Cormac, throwing his legs over Cormac’s lap, and he
rambles between tears, “I-I did everything wrong! And P-Professor Snape went
off on me! This was a big test—he said it’ll all be on our O.W.L.s and I
should’ve studied harder, b-but I did study, I just messed up a few things and,
and—” He cuts off, and Cormac soothingly rubs his shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter. Tests don’t mean anything before your O.W.L.s anyway—that’s
all the world actually looks at when you graduate. And you’ll do fine on those.
...And Snape’s an asshole; we all know that.”
Colin sniffs again. He’s clinging to Cormac as if for dear life, and it takes
him a minute to mutter, “S-sorry...”
“It’s okay.” When Colin pulls back, Cormac doesn’t let go of his shoulders.
Cormac kisses his tear-stained cheek, and Colin scrubs at his face with the
back of his hands. When he can manage, he gives Cormac a shaky, thank-you
smile. Cormac nods.
There’s a wet patch on his robes now. But he doesn’t really care.
Being there for Colin is better than the sex he could easily get for this would
be. Cormac feels strange thinking that. But the way Colin reaches to hold his
hand is priceless, and Cormac squeezes Colin’s hand back.
Trying to come up with a Muggle solution, Cormac offers, “Do you want me to egg
Snape’s office?”
Colin laughs, and that smile makes Cormac feel more accomplished than anything
else he’s done all day.
***** Sky *****
There’s a loud crash down the corridor just as Cormac rounds it, followed by
cruel laughter. “Oops! Looks like I broke your gay Muggle box.” Bletchley’s
standing over Colin like a towering troll, two other Slytherins flanking him.
Colin’s on his hands and knees, and his camera is... shattered. “Looks like
you’ll have to find somewhere else to get dick pictures.”
Cormac practically flies across the corridor, while Vaisey kicks the crumpled
metal remains aside. It hits the wall and more glass topples out. Colin’s back
is to Cormac, but it looks like he’s trembling. Cormac doesn’t register
anything else—he’s in front of Colin in a second, seeing red.
“McLaggen,” Bletchley grunts, looking startled, as though he can’t fathom why
anyone would stop blatant bullying in the corridors.
“You leave him alone, you asshole,” Cormac snarls, fists balling up. There’s
three of them and one of him, and he doesn’t particularly care. He’s pretty
sure he can take them all, and if they don’t back down immediately, he’s going
to.
Bletchley mostly just looks taken aback, and he wrinkles his nose at Cormac.
Uruqhart says, “What do you care if we call out some fag?” Then his face
twists, and he adds, “What, is he your boyfriend or something?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, he is,” Cormac practically shouts. “Do you have
something to say about that, Uruqhart? What, are you miffed we’re not related
like your ugly parents?”
It takes about one second for Uruqhart to go from shocked to enraged, and he
lunges at Cormac with both hands raised. Cormac ducks and punches him in the
gut, kicking him back into Bletchley. Vaisey punches Cormac right in the face,
and his head snaps around, but it was a weak one, he shakes it off, and he’s on
Vaisey in the next minute. He’s only vaguely aware of Colin shouting in the
background, and when he topples to the ground on top of Vaisey, familiar arms
are trying to pull him off. Cormac ignores them and keeps punching Vaisey right
in his head, and Vaisey keeps kneeing him and hitting right back, Bletchley
tackling them from the side.
Then Cormac’s knocked aside with a curse—his back goes slamming into the wall,
the Slytherins sliding in opposite directions.
“Detention, detention all of you!” Professor Sinistra fumes, wand out and
pointing between them. “Fighting in the corridors—honestly! The world has
enough trouble right now! Twenty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin—”
She’s barely finished when Cormac interrupts loudly, “They broke his camera!”
“It’s a camera, Mr. McLaggen! That’s no reason to act like an animal!” A flick
of her wand, and the glass all goes flying back into the frame—Professor
Sinistra summons the camera and taps it a few times. The dents smooth out of
it, and Cormac climbs to his feet, still shaking with anger and wanting to
destroy something.
Professor Sinistra hands the camera back to Colin, who takes it, looking
absolutely terrified. She pats him on the shoulder and ushers him along—Colin
looks over his shoulder at Cormac. But he goes.
Cormac glares daggers at all three Slytherins before following, hissing under
his breath too low for the retreating professor to hear, “If you ever so much
as look at my boyfriend funny again I’m gonna paint the walls with your guts.”
Then he hurries to catch up to Colin, looping an arm around Colin’s waist and
leading him off. Professor Sinistra eyes them suspiciously, but Colin just
smiles at her and mumbles, “Th-thank you.” So she nods and leaves them be.
Cormac sweeps Colin down a side-corridor, testing doors as he goes. The third
one’s unlocked, and he pushes Colin inside, closing the door behind them.
Cormac knows he’s probably still red with anger; he’s always had a bad temper.
Colin’s shaking all over, worrying his swollen bottom lip, and shifting
nervously on his feet. He looks like he’s going to piss himself, and it drains
the warmth right out of Cormac. There’s an overwhelming urge to protect Colin
in Cormac’s chest, and he tries to steady his voice as he asks, “Are you
alright?”
Colin’s still clutching the camera tight. He lunges suddenly at Cormac,
throwing his arms around Cormac’s chest, and he holds on tight, burying his
face in Cormac’s shoulder. Cormac holds his back and rubs it in soothing
circles, mumbling, “I’m sorry, baby. I swear if I ever catch them doing it
again, I’ll seriously rip all their heads off.” Colin makes a sniffing sound.
Cormac can feel the camera digging into his side but doesn’t say anything.
Breaking Colin’s camera is akin to breaking Cormac’s broom, and he hopes his
poor boyfriend hasn’t been traumatized.
...Then he realizes that it’s the first time he’s called Colin his boyfriend,
and Colin probably noticed that too.
Colin pulls back a little, eyes wet. Cormac kisses his cheek, holding him
protectively.
It takes a minute for Colin to calm down enough to talk properly, and then he
says, “Thank you.”
“It’s okay.” Cormac hugs Colin again, more to establish dominance than anything
else. It bothers him to think that other people would touch Colin; Colin’s his
and only his. He takes the camera out of Colin’s hand and places it carefully
on the desk beside them, not once letting go of Colin’s back.
Colin murmurs thickly into his sweater, “...Am I really your boyfriend?”
It’s probably something Cormac should think about. But he doesn’t. He just hugs
Colin close and says firmly, “Yes.”
===============================================================================
Quidditch practice is something of a mess. Weasley’s a fucking joke, and
there’s no end to how much it bothers Cormac that Weasley’s the one that
actually gets to play in games. They have a miniature game within the team,
Weasley guarding one set of goals and Cormac guarding the other. Cormac’s team,
obviously, wins. Weasley’s bitter about it, and Cormac doesn’t care that Alicia
shoots him dirty looks when he talks about it loudly.
He’s in high spirits anyway, even knowing he’s a reserve. Because Colin’s in
the stands. Every time a little flash goes off the other players roll their
eyes, but Cormac preens under the attention, knowing he looks amazing. Later
he’ll show Colin how to make the pictures move, and they’ll admire them
together, sharing passions. It’s their thing, and Cormac’s mildly surprised how
much sense they make together.
Practice ends an hour later, and Cormac doesn’t join the rest of them on the
pitch. He veers off to the stands, landing right in front of Colin. Colin’s
sitting off in his own little section, wrapped up in a scarf and the wind
whipping his hair aside and turning his cheeks pink. Cormac has the sudden urge
to take him for a broom ride. He wonders how Colin is at flying. Being a
Muggle-born, he probably never does it outside Hogwarts.
As soon as Cormac’s in front of him, Colin’s snapping away. Cormac
understands—he looks smashing in his uniform. He strides forward anyway, and
Colin obediently lowers the camera. Cormac kisses him over it—flying always
gets him pumped. It always makes him want Colin, makes him want everything,
gets his blood flowing and turns him feral. He kisses Colin with all the fire
left over from practice, and Colin eagerly returns it.
When Cormac pulls back, Colin whines, and Cormac says breathlessly, “Get on my
broom.”
“What?”
“C’mon, get on it.” Cormac mounts it again, hovering just above the bench,
closer to the bristles than usual. He pats the handle in front of him. “It’s
good-quality, and you’re light—it can take it.”
“Oh, I don’t...” Colin cuts himself off, shifting half-nervously, half-
excitedly. “I’m not very good at flying.”
“I’ll steer, and I’m good enough for both of us.”
Cormac glances around the stands. The others have all left, and he quickly
kneels down to stuff his camera into his bag—Cormac reaches over to grab his
scarf, tugging it playfully.
Colin laughs and moves to straddle the broom, climbing on awkwardly in front of
Cormac. Cormac pulls him right up, arms on either side of Colin, holding him in
and clutching the tip of the handle. Cormac leans his head on Colin’s shoulder,
feeling drunk with everything good—all his favourite things at once.
Then Cormac takes off—Colin squeaks and is thrown back against Cormac’s chest.
Cormac kisses his cheek and climbs towards the clouds, the sunshine all around
them.
===============================================================================
Cormac almost doesn’t want to graduate. He wasted five years that he could’ve
had Colin, and now Colin’s got two left and he has to leave. He knows they’ll
still see each other—he’s promised as much, and he’s sure of it. But the
world’s crumbling around them, and Cormac doesn’t want to leave.
They’ve got time left. Cormac wants to cherish it. They’re in Colin’s bed, so
similar to Cormac’s: Gryffindor red, and four-poster, and canopy. Colin clung
to Cormac’s arm when they first paraded in, giving Cormac the distinct
impression that Colin was showing him off.
Now it’s dark, and everyone else is asleep. The spells are all up, the
moonlight thin through the curtains, and Colin’s sprawled out in the mattress,
blankets peeled aside. He isn’t wearing anything, and Cormac’s kissed every
part of him, from his forehead to his toes. Cormac’s hovering over his cock,
lapping at the tip and kissing the shaft. Colin’s writhing, moaning loudly and
whispering desperately, “Cormac...” And it’s driving Cormac wild.
As soon as Cormac’s mouth envelops his cock, Colin breaks. His hips shoot up
and Cormac has to force them down, clutching Colin’s thighs and keeping them
still. Colin isn’t that big, and it isn’t hard for Cormac to take most of it
into his mouth, even if this is new for him. Cormac eats a lot; he’s never had
much of a gag reflex. He isn’t that fond of the taste, but it’s more than worth
it to feel Colin come undone around him. He glances up Colin’s body while he
tongues the side. He shifts one of his shoulders to hold Colin down, so he can
reach a hand up, stretching to play with one of Colin’s nipples. Colin
whimpers, and Cormac sucks.
That makes Colin throw his head back, and his hands run down his own body. His
feet twist in the sheets, and Cormac guides Colin’s fingers to play with his
own nipples. It’s fucking hot, and before Cormac can stop, he’s rubbing himself
off in the sheets, drinking in the gorgeous sight before him. From this angle,
he can only see Colin’s chin, but the rest of it’s enough. He sucks again, and
he starts to bob up and down, pleasuring Colin the way Colin always pleasures
him. Colin tries to look down at him, and when their eyes connect, Cormac’s
instantly impossibly hard.
He gives Colin the, ‘you better not hump my mouth’ look, and lets go of Colin’s
thigh. Colin’s straining not to buck up. Cormac reaches down to touch himself,
moaning around Colin’s cock and bobbing faster, sucking harder. He jerks
himself rough and dry, but it’s enough. He forces himself to keep his eyes
open—he doesn’t want to miss this.
Once, he closes them, lost in the sensations. But then he feels Colin’s fingers
in his hair, and he looks back up. Colin’s staring down at him through thick,
dilated, half-lidded eyes, pink-cheeked and rosy-lipped. Colin pets him, and
Cormac sucks with all his might, nearly choking himself on Colin’s dick.
Then Colin moans, “C-Cormac, I-I’m going to—to—” And he breaks off, shouting
and suddenly bucking up wildly. Cormac nearly gags, and he slides his hands
back to Colin’s hips, holding Colin down, pulling up, but he doesn’t make it
off in time. His lips are still around the head when Colin comes in his mouth,
and the salty liquid shoots across Cormac’s tongue. Cormac splutters but keeps
his mouth open, and Colin gasps as he comes and comes. Cormac’s still humping
the mattress.
His first instinct is to turn and spit. But he doesn’t. When he pulls off of
Colin’s cock completely, he looks right into Colin’s eyes and swallows. Colin
looks like he’s literally had his mind blown, and Cormac climbs up the sheet to
kiss him. Colin doesn’t protest—just turns and throws an arm around Cormac’s
sweaty shoulders, kissing back. Cormac jerks himself off on Colin’s stomach,
coming a second later. It splatters all across Colin’s pale skin, staining the
sheets.
Cormac collapses on top of Colin, panting heavily. Colin’s breathing just as
hard. His fingers move back to Cormac’s hair, stroking again, softly. Colin
opens his mouth and blurts, “I love you.”
Cormac pulls back to look at him. Colin stares right back at Cormac, brown eyes
wide and desperate, needy and hopeful. His mouth is parted, eyebrows knit
together. Cormac scrunches his.
He shocks himself with how easy it is to reply, “I love you too.” He doesn’t
even have to think about it.
Colin repeats, “I love you.” Then he rambles, quickly and so happily it looks
like he might explode, “I love you, Cormac, I love you, I love you, I love
you.”
Cormac snorts and says firmly, “I love you too, Colin.”
It’s probably near midnight. It’s dark in Colin’s bed, but Colin’s lit up like
the sun. He practically glows with warmth, shining like the moon. Cormac feels
like he’s caught a fallen star in the shape of a boy, beautiful and shimmering.
He wants to hold onto that star forever. He snuggles into Colin when Colin
nuzzles into him, and then Cormac reaches down and pulls the blankets up over
them. He falls asleep with his arm around Colin’s shoulders, feeling fucking
perfect.
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