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maja_liTitle: Grey Dove
Pairing: Al/Scorpius(/Harry)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3700
Warnings: crossgen, incest, threesome, dirty talk
Disclaimer: Harry&co. belong to JKR. Not me.
Summary: Al and Scorpius are back from a trip, and they're tired of waiting.
A/N: Quick post from my laptop @ the library where Mother Dear works (TGF public wifi). Am slightly perturbed to be posting smut with small children running all about... >_>
Scorpius tumbled through the Floo and dropped his bags on the floor with a groan of relief.
"Merlin, it's good to be home," he said, looking around the modest flat that he and Al had shared for the past two years.
"Tell me about it," his boyfriend agreed as he stepped through in Scorpius's wake. "I swear, if you'd tried to pack any more books in there, I might have tried to throttle you."
"Nonsense. Cernik Navoty's Pojednání o jedy is a classic in the field," Scorpius said airily, brushing soot from Al's elbows and chest. "And don't tell me we could have left behind the Smrcka or the Stojespal, I saw you salivating over them when Pan Schwarz wasn't looking."
"Wouldn't hardly have done to let him see how much we wanted them," Al groused, but knelt down and began to sort out their new purchases from the rest of their belongings. "Well. At least we're done…"
"Oh, no we're not," Scorpius said reproachfully. "Don't think you're getting out of it now!"
"…getting out of what?" Al's tone was genuinely puzzled, but the guilty flick of his eyes away from Scorpius's face gave him away. Scorpius shook his head and pulled his boyfriend to his feet, walking him backwards until Al was pressed up against the living room wall.
"You know," he murmured, flicking open the snap of Al's jeans and sliding a hand inside. Al squeaked. "I know you know." Scorpius's hand crept up Al's chest, clever fingers popping Al's top shirt button without even looking down. "Because if you've forgotten," Pop. "I'm going to be very," Pop. "very," Pop. "annoyed."
Scorpius jerked his hand sharply downward along the open V of Al's shirt, sending the rest of his buttons skittering away over the wooden floor and baring the tanned expanse of his chest, barely paled by long weeks in the weak, chilly light of Prague. He caught one already-hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it, his other hand toying with the waistband of Al's boxers, knuckles just brushing against the hot flesh inside.
"So…do you remember?"
"Wha—? Ah!" Al grunted and grabbed for Scorpius's hands as he went to pull them away. "I remember!"
"Hm…do you? Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, good." Scorpius grinned and slipped out of Al's rasp. "Let's be off, then."
"What? But—"
"Come, come, we don't want to be late. I thought I might have to persuade you all over again, but since you do remember after all…" He grinned wickedly at Al's crestfallen expression.
"You. Are a horrible boyfriend," Al complained, adjusting his pants so that he could do them up again and mending his shirt with a muttered spell. "And I hate you very much."
"Me too, darling. Me, too." Scorpius leaned up, gave Al a chaste peck on the cheek, and pulled them both back into the Floo.
* * *
They emerged in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron: Scorpius immaculate as always, Al somewhat disheveled but still perfectly presentable. Al's father was already waiting for them, a glass of scotch in one hand and a copy of the Daily Prophet in the other. A bell chimed as soon as they set foot on the stone lip of the fireplace and Young Tom—who had taken over after Old Tom died—poked his head inside.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy! Good t'see you," he smiled, with only a few more teeth than his predecessor. "Is ever'thing in order, Mr. Potter?" That was addressed to Harry, who nodded and stood.
"I really appreciate this—" he began, but Tom waved him off.
"We knows the need for privacy here," he said, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. "You gents are free t'use this room for as long as you like, or there's stairs up the back what lead to one o' them private soo-eet-ies."
"Suites, man, suites," Scorpius muttered under his breath; if Tom heard, he pretended that he hadn't.
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely, as Tom bowed himself out. As soon as the innkeeper was gone, however, Harry turned around to face Al and Scorpius with a thunderous expression.
"What," he said tightly, clearly controlling his temper only through years of practice, "the bleeding hell is this about?" He brandished a letter with Scorpius's Malfoy crest on it, a letter that Al all to clearly recalled sending. He cringed inwardly, more familiar that Scorpius with his father's fits of temper—and they had expected surprise, embarrassment, disgust and rejection at worst, but nothing like this crimson-flushed anger. Scorpius only smiled like his own father and inclined his head.
"I see you received our invitation," he said, sounding downright pleased with himself. "And since you chose to come—"
"Now wait just a damn minute," Harry interrupted, glaring fiercely at both of them. "I didn't come to accept, I came to find out what the hell the two of you were thinking!"
"I don't think so, Mr. Potter." Scorpius was still smiling. "If that were the case, you could have written a reply, or come to see us at our flat—or even invited us to Godric's Hollow. But since you did none of those things…" He trailed off suggestively. Harry turned to his son.
"Al," he said, a touch desperately. "Al, are you—how can you—?"
Al swallowed. Licked suddenly dry lips. Swallowed again.
"I don't think it's a bad idea…Dad," he said softly, but with conviction. Harry's shoulders sagged, but then his mouth thinned out in a stark line.
"I see," he said. "I think I'll be going now, boys." He Disapparated with a sudden, sharp crack! and Al sank into a chair with a whimper and buried his face in his hands.
"He's going to hate me," he moaned. "He's going to disown me and feed me to Buckbeak and let Uncle George use me for experimental product testing—"
"Oh, don't be such a drama queen." Scorpius chuckled, patting Al on the back. "He hasn’t threatened to do any of those things since you were at least thirteen. Anyway, I thought that went rather well, all things considered."
"Really." Al's tone was scathing as he lifted his head to glare at Scorpius. "And how do you figure that, exactly?"
"He didn't hex either of us. He didn't even really curse at us. He didn't blow anything up," Scorpius said, ticking points off on his fingers. "He did blush like a virgin, get a raging hard-on, and flee as soon as you licked your lips—very good strategy, by the way, I wouldn't have tried it myself but clearly you know your father best." At Al's disbelieving look, Scorpius smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Trust me. I was watching." He winked lasciviously, and Al finally laughed.
"Of course you were," he retorted. "You're such a pervert."
"Mm, and you wouldn't have me any other way." Scorpius leaned down and planted a long, lingering kiss on Al's lips. "Now, what do you say to going home and practicing for when he finally gives in?"
As if Al were going to say no to that.
* * *
Afterwards, when they lay loose and easy in bed together, Al propped himself up on an elbow and turned to Scorpius.
"Do you think we ought to write him again?"
"Someone's feeling bold," Scorpius teased. "I wouldn't worry about it for now. It's almost Saint Andrew's Day, isn't it? Then we can give it until just before Christmas, at the least."
In fact, they ended up letting it go right up to Christmas Eve—the annual Potter-Weasley Christmas party, to be exact. Scorpius and Al had never gone together before: they had spent last year with Scorpius's family, the year before that they had been hunting down a manuscript in India, before that in the middle of an outrageous quarrel…which was, of course, not to say that Scorpius hadn't met Al's (rather extended) family before. Quite the opposite: Molly Weasley had adored him on sight, Hermione had been perfectly pleased once she learned that the Book Shop had originally been Scorpius's brainchild, and Uncle George had given his blessing on the day Scorpius managed to prank him with one of his own inventions. Yes, Scorpius, politic fellow that he was, had somehow managed to charm everyone who mattered in Al's life.
Everyone—except Al's own father.
Which was how Al found himself half-hidden away in the kitchen beside the enormous punch bowl, his pants unfastened and his cock peeking out of his boxers, Scorpius's warm, teasing breath keeping him on the edge of arousal.
"I h-hate you," Al groaned, cracking open an eyelid and looking down at Scorpius—who, little bastard, wasn't even paying attention! No, he was leaning back and peering out the kitchen door as best he could. Whatever he saw apparently pleased him, because Scorpius nodded to himself, turned back around and in one fluid motion yanked Al's boxers down and sucked his cock down to the root.
"Ngh!" Al grunted in surprise and clutched at Scorpius's hair, feeling his face suffuse with blood…just as his father walked into the kitchen. Al flushed even more deeply, and not just from embarrassment at being caught. He knew exactly what sort of picture they presented in profile to the doorway: himself, needy and dissolute, trousers and underwear tangled around his thighs and his shirt rucked up to expose his taut, flexing stomach muscles—and Scorpius, immaculate and precise, looking perfectly calm until your eyes found the eager stretch of his lips around Al's cock, until you heard the soft moans and squelching noises as his slid up and down the solid length, until you smelled the dark musk of his arousal, no less potent than Al's own.
The three of them—Harry, Al, and Scorpius—stayed like that for a moment, a tableau of desire displayed and denied. Then the empty scotch glass, which Scorpius had seen Harry coming to refill, slipped from Harry's fingers to shatter on the tiled floor and the frame was unfrozen. Al and Scorpius both turned toward Harry, but he Disapparated without a sound the moment they moved. Without a sound—but not before Al saw the hungry part of his father's lips, or Scorpius the incriminating swell in the front of his loose, worn jeans.
On New Year's Day, they received the owl. Al sent the little Flammulated Grey on its way with a treat and scratch of its ear tufts while Scorpius scanned the missive it had borne. When he reached the end, he looked at Al, eyes alight, and handed him the parchment. It was only three lines long.
Al—
You win.
—Dad Harry
* * *
They met at the Leaky Cauldron once more, a week later, thinking the back room a safe place to continue on to Al and Scorpius's flat. The simple truth was that as a man of interest to all Wizarding society, Harry had long ago become used to disguising his movements; while an impromptu visit to his son and his son's boyfriend was bound to draw a covert inquirer or two looking for gossip, a trip to the Leaky fro a solitary pint was another matter entirely.
They didn't linger there for long. It seemed that no sooner had Al and Scorpius stepped out of the Floo than they were pulling Harry back in again, whirling through the emerald flames to tumble out into the living room of their flat. After the weeks of anticipation and doubt, of solitary counsels taken and silent decisions made to come to this moment, it could have been horribly awkward. But Al, whose personal Ravenclaw inclinations could not at that moment overcome the Gryffindor recklessness he'd inherited from his father, pressed forward almost immediately and crushed his lips against Harry's. It was hot, and eager, and as uncaring of the consequences as only privileged youth could be.
From behind, Scorpius slid his hands around Harry's chest, his long, clever fingers working at undoing Harry's shirt buttons—but Harry pulled away from both of them with a groan, steadying himself against the mantle with one hand and covering his eyes with the other.
"Really?" he whispered. "Really?"
"Really," Scorpius answered, firm and soothing in equal measure as he drew Harry away from the fireplace and toward the bedroom. Al followed, more than happy to let Scorpius take the lead as Al reeled internally from the force of his own desire.
Though, he suspected, it was less the fact that he was attracted to his father than the slow-dawning realization that he was attracted to this—to sharing Scorpius with and being shared by Scorpius with another man, solely for their own sensual fulfillment—despite the fact that the man in question was his father. That, however, could wait for further examination…
Because right now Scorpius was kneeling in the center of their bed and pulling Harry down beside him. Gesturing with his head for Al come around behind him, Scorpius made short work of Harry's half-undone shirt and tossed it carelessly into a corner. When he started on the trousers, Harry balked a bit, but Al was there to distract him, pressed up flush against Scorpius's back and running his hands over his boyfriend's body in a blatant invitation for Harry to join the fun.
Trembling, Harry reached out and laid the back of his hand against Scorpius's collarbone. He paused for a moment, then slowly slid it down Scorpius's chest, letting his wrist turn naturally until his palm rested flat on the spot where Scorpius's heart thudded a quickening tattoo against his ribs. A stretch brushed his fingers over Scorpius's nipple, making Scorpius melt back against Al with a heartfelt groan.
That, apparently, was enough for Harry. He followed Scorpius back, covering the younger man's neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses as he shifted to rub Scorpius's nipples with him thumbs. Meanwhile, Al was busy stripping Scorpius and himself, so that son all three of them lay naked and tangled together on the bed. Al fumbled the lube off the bedside table and squirted a generous glob onto his fingers, dripping another down Scorpius's crack. While his boyfriend kissed Harry deep and slow, Al slid a finger into the Scorpius's tight little hole and twisted.
"Mmph!" Scorpius cried out, arching his back as he tried to push himself backward onto the slight penetration. Al smiled.
"Give them a nice, hard pinch," Al suggested huskily, meeting Harry's eyes and licking his lips as he continued to work just one finger in and out Scorpius's body. "He's not nearly so sensitive as I am, he'll love it." He knew when Harry obeyed, too, because Scorpius gasped sharply and jerked, his hips stuttering as Al finally drove another finger into him.
"Bastard," he moaned, and Al rested his head against his shoulder.
"And you love it, don't you?" Al murmured, pulling on Scorpius's hair and forcing him look Harry in the eye. "Tell him how much you love it."
"Yes." Scorpius hissed, grey eyes locked on Harry's green as he writhed, trapped between father and son. "I love it, I want it, I want more…"
"If you insist," Al murmured, sliding his fingers out of Scorpius and shoving the blond's hips forward so that he was poised, slick and loose, right above Harry's cock.
"May I?" Scorpius whispered. Harry made a choked, desperate noise and clutched at Scorpius's hips. Taking it for consent, Scorpius slowly lowered himself down. Al felt his satisfied shiver as the head of Harry's cock pushed inside, heard the soft hiss of pain as Scorpius struggled to accommodate a thicker cock—with less preparation—than he was used to. It didn't make him pause for long, however, and as Scorpius worked himself downward Al craned his neck to see his father's expression. Harry's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep, steadying breath, so clearly trying to hold himself back despite the feel of Scorpius's tight, greedy passage clenched around his cock.
"Go ahead, move," Al urged, reaching around Scorpius to stroke Harry's hips with one hand while he tugged Scorpius's shaft with the other. "He can take it."
Harry's hips stuttered upward, pushing his cock deeper into Scorpius, Scorpius pushed back—and that was enough. Both of them moaned loudly as Harry slid slightly out and then shoved back in, finding a rocking, steady rhythm. Al pulled back from Harry and wrapped his arm around Scorpius's waist, supporting him as he sagged into the dual pleasure of Al's hand stroking his cock and Harry pounding into him from beneath.
"Oh, Merlin," breathed Harry, his voice laced with unexpected pleasure. "That's good..oh..oh!" He gasped, startled, as Scorpius ran his hands along his chest, the light, teasing touch a heady contrast to the quickening drive of their hips. Then Scorpius raised his arms and rested his palms on either side of Harry's face, fingers curling gently in Harry's sweaty, black hair so that he could hold Harry's gaze with his own. Slowly he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing Harry's cheekbones—and as he touched their mouths together in an oddly chaste gesture, Scorpius pressed the pads of his thumbs to Harry's eyelids, holding them shut, and murmured deep and rough and strange,
"Come, Harry."
And, just like that, Harry did, back bowing so that his head almost touched the comforter as he jerked his hips upward and spent himself deep and messy inside Scorpius's body.
Scorpius, still unsatisfied, let Harry's limp member slip from his body and turned to face Al, who was staring at him with hungry eyes.
"That. That was. Fucking hot," Al managed, before dragging Scorpius forward and tumbling them both backwards onto the mattress. He went to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, but Scorpius pushed it away with a smirk.
"I've got a better idea. Prop up your shoulders," he ordered, turning as Al obeyed so that he was kneeling on all fours above his boyfriend, chest level with Al's hips while his cock hung thick and heavy over Al's face.
Captivated, Al reached up and wrapped his hand around the long shaft, caressing it slowly while Scorpius moaned and let his head droop down between his elbows. His hips tensed, pushing him into Al's hand, and his reddened, well-stretched hole twitched and leaked pale globs of lube and spunk down the insides of his thighs. Al pushed three fingers inside, squishing them around in the slick-sticky mixture and smiling when Scorpius's breath stuttered and his passage clenched eagerly.
Not to be outdone, however, Scorpius leaned down further—whimpering a little as he almost slipped off Al's fingers—and began to apply his tongue with fervent determination. Al's strangled cry as his head fell back did not go unnoticed; Harry, who had been lying flat on his back in the wake of his orgasm, struggled up onto his elbows and looked over at them. His mouth fell open in surprise and lust at the sight of the two men pleasuring each other. With a grunt of effort, Harry rolled over and crawled around in front of Scorpius, eyes locked on the blond's face as his cock began to fill once more.
Scorpius looked up, meeting Harry's eyes and making, soft, eager noises as he continued to lick along Al's cock in broad, wet stripes. It was glistening now with spit and precum, crimson thickness straining upwards as each puff of Scorpius's breath teased over the sensitive tip.
Harry's cock was inches from Scorpius's face, his hand moving more rapidly now. Occasionally, the plump head brushed against Scorpius's cheek, and left glistening trails of slime across his pale skin.
'Do it," Scorpius urged, grey eyes wide and eager. "Do it, do it…"
Harry groaned deep in his chest, hand flying over his shaft—and when Scorpius bent his head, blond hair falling around his face and blurring his features as he took Al's full length down his throat, Harry shouted and came again. Thick gobs of spunk splattered against Scorpius's face and dripped down to coat Al's cock and balls, sending a jolt of pleasure shivering up Al's spine.
Suddenly, Scorpius gave a startled cry and pulled his mouth of Al's cock, hips writhing desperately backwards. Al's mouth stayed gentle on his sack, tongue caressing Scorpius's cum-filled balls but his hands were rough as he jacked Scorpius's cock and fucked three fingers knuckle-deep into his ass. Scorpius shuddered and jerked under the threefold assault, but just as he had gathered his control and moved to take Al in again, Al curled his hand to shove a fourth finger in Scorpius and squeezed roughly on the end of his cock, startling him into a wailing climax.
Scorpius collapsed, belly smearing the stripes of his own cum on Al's chest, boneless and limp but still determined as he wrapped his lips around the tip of Al's cock and sucked hard. Al moaned and thrust upward, and Scorpius let him, relaxing his throat and allowing Al to fuck his mouth however he wanted.
Then Harry, who had watched Scorpius's climax hungrily despite his own satiation, leaned down and pressed moist lips to Al's plump balls, stained with cum—and it was Al's undoing. He let out a soft, choked gasp and then poured his release down Scorpius's throat more rapidly than Scorpius could swallow, so that the last few spurts dribbled out from between his lips and added to the mess Harry had left on his face.
Flushed, trembling, exhausted his mouth inches from Scorpius's and his cheek resting against the inside of his son's thigh, Harry drew a deep, shuddering breath a whispered a heartfelt,
"Merlin."
And, really, what else could any of them say?
* * *
One week later, an owl arrived at the Manor at Wiltshire, addressed to Draco, Lord Malfoy. It carried a Pensieve vial, silver wisps of memory swirling within, and a plain slip of parchment with a note in Scorpius's elegant, governess-ruled penmanship. It read:
Dear Father,
I believe this may be of interest to you. Please do let me know.
Faithfully yours,
Scorpius
-fin-
Pairing: Al/Scorpius(/Harry)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~3700
Warnings: crossgen, incest, threesome, dirty talk
Disclaimer: Harry&co. belong to JKR. Not me.
Summary: Al and Scorpius are back from a trip, and they're tired of waiting.
A/N: Quick post from my laptop @ the library where Mother Dear works (TGF public wifi). Am slightly perturbed to be posting smut with small children running all about... >_>
Scorpius tumbled through the Floo and dropped his bags on the floor with a groan of relief.
"Merlin, it's good to be home," he said, looking around the modest flat that he and Al had shared for the past two years.
"Tell me about it," his boyfriend agreed as he stepped through in Scorpius's wake. "I swear, if you'd tried to pack any more books in there, I might have tried to throttle you."
"Nonsense. Cernik Navoty's Pojednání o jedy is a classic in the field," Scorpius said airily, brushing soot from Al's elbows and chest. "And don't tell me we could have left behind the Smrcka or the Stojespal, I saw you salivating over them when Pan Schwarz wasn't looking."
"Wouldn't hardly have done to let him see how much we wanted them," Al groused, but knelt down and began to sort out their new purchases from the rest of their belongings. "Well. At least we're done…"
"Oh, no we're not," Scorpius said reproachfully. "Don't think you're getting out of it now!"
"…getting out of what?" Al's tone was genuinely puzzled, but the guilty flick of his eyes away from Scorpius's face gave him away. Scorpius shook his head and pulled his boyfriend to his feet, walking him backwards until Al was pressed up against the living room wall.
"You know," he murmured, flicking open the snap of Al's jeans and sliding a hand inside. Al squeaked. "I know you know." Scorpius's hand crept up Al's chest, clever fingers popping Al's top shirt button without even looking down. "Because if you've forgotten," Pop. "I'm going to be very," Pop. "very," Pop. "annoyed."
Scorpius jerked his hand sharply downward along the open V of Al's shirt, sending the rest of his buttons skittering away over the wooden floor and baring the tanned expanse of his chest, barely paled by long weeks in the weak, chilly light of Prague. He caught one already-hardening nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it, his other hand toying with the waistband of Al's boxers, knuckles just brushing against the hot flesh inside.
"So…do you remember?"
"Wha—? Ah!" Al grunted and grabbed for Scorpius's hands as he went to pull them away. "I remember!"
"Hm…do you? Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, good." Scorpius grinned and slipped out of Al's rasp. "Let's be off, then."
"What? But—"
"Come, come, we don't want to be late. I thought I might have to persuade you all over again, but since you do remember after all…" He grinned wickedly at Al's crestfallen expression.
"You. Are a horrible boyfriend," Al complained, adjusting his pants so that he could do them up again and mending his shirt with a muttered spell. "And I hate you very much."
"Me too, darling. Me, too." Scorpius leaned up, gave Al a chaste peck on the cheek, and pulled them both back into the Floo.
* * *
They emerged in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron: Scorpius immaculate as always, Al somewhat disheveled but still perfectly presentable. Al's father was already waiting for them, a glass of scotch in one hand and a copy of the Daily Prophet in the other. A bell chimed as soon as they set foot on the stone lip of the fireplace and Young Tom—who had taken over after Old Tom died—poked his head inside.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy! Good t'see you," he smiled, with only a few more teeth than his predecessor. "Is ever'thing in order, Mr. Potter?" That was addressed to Harry, who nodded and stood.
"I really appreciate this—" he began, but Tom waved him off.
"We knows the need for privacy here," he said, tapping the side of his nose knowingly. "You gents are free t'use this room for as long as you like, or there's stairs up the back what lead to one o' them private soo-eet-ies."
"Suites, man, suites," Scorpius muttered under his breath; if Tom heard, he pretended that he hadn't.
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely, as Tom bowed himself out. As soon as the innkeeper was gone, however, Harry turned around to face Al and Scorpius with a thunderous expression.
"What," he said tightly, clearly controlling his temper only through years of practice, "the bleeding hell is this about?" He brandished a letter with Scorpius's Malfoy crest on it, a letter that Al all to clearly recalled sending. He cringed inwardly, more familiar that Scorpius with his father's fits of temper—and they had expected surprise, embarrassment, disgust and rejection at worst, but nothing like this crimson-flushed anger. Scorpius only smiled like his own father and inclined his head.
"I see you received our invitation," he said, sounding downright pleased with himself. "And since you chose to come—"
"Now wait just a damn minute," Harry interrupted, glaring fiercely at both of them. "I didn't come to accept, I came to find out what the hell the two of you were thinking!"
"I don't think so, Mr. Potter." Scorpius was still smiling. "If that were the case, you could have written a reply, or come to see us at our flat—or even invited us to Godric's Hollow. But since you did none of those things…" He trailed off suggestively. Harry turned to his son.
"Al," he said, a touch desperately. "Al, are you—how can you—?"
Al swallowed. Licked suddenly dry lips. Swallowed again.
"I don't think it's a bad idea…Dad," he said softly, but with conviction. Harry's shoulders sagged, but then his mouth thinned out in a stark line.
"I see," he said. "I think I'll be going now, boys." He Disapparated with a sudden, sharp crack! and Al sank into a chair with a whimper and buried his face in his hands.
"He's going to hate me," he moaned. "He's going to disown me and feed me to Buckbeak and let Uncle George use me for experimental product testing—"
"Oh, don't be such a drama queen." Scorpius chuckled, patting Al on the back. "He hasn’t threatened to do any of those things since you were at least thirteen. Anyway, I thought that went rather well, all things considered."
"Really." Al's tone was scathing as he lifted his head to glare at Scorpius. "And how do you figure that, exactly?"
"He didn't hex either of us. He didn't even really curse at us. He didn't blow anything up," Scorpius said, ticking points off on his fingers. "He did blush like a virgin, get a raging hard-on, and flee as soon as you licked your lips—very good strategy, by the way, I wouldn't have tried it myself but clearly you know your father best." At Al's disbelieving look, Scorpius smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Trust me. I was watching." He winked lasciviously, and Al finally laughed.
"Of course you were," he retorted. "You're such a pervert."
"Mm, and you wouldn't have me any other way." Scorpius leaned down and planted a long, lingering kiss on Al's lips. "Now, what do you say to going home and practicing for when he finally gives in?"
As if Al were going to say no to that.
* * *
Afterwards, when they lay loose and easy in bed together, Al propped himself up on an elbow and turned to Scorpius.
"Do you think we ought to write him again?"
"Someone's feeling bold," Scorpius teased. "I wouldn't worry about it for now. It's almost Saint Andrew's Day, isn't it? Then we can give it until just before Christmas, at the least."
In fact, they ended up letting it go right up to Christmas Eve—the annual Potter-Weasley Christmas party, to be exact. Scorpius and Al had never gone together before: they had spent last year with Scorpius's family, the year before that they had been hunting down a manuscript in India, before that in the middle of an outrageous quarrel…which was, of course, not to say that Scorpius hadn't met Al's (rather extended) family before. Quite the opposite: Molly Weasley had adored him on sight, Hermione had been perfectly pleased once she learned that the Book Shop had originally been Scorpius's brainchild, and Uncle George had given his blessing on the day Scorpius managed to prank him with one of his own inventions. Yes, Scorpius, politic fellow that he was, had somehow managed to charm everyone who mattered in Al's life.
Everyone—except Al's own father.
Which was how Al found himself half-hidden away in the kitchen beside the enormous punch bowl, his pants unfastened and his cock peeking out of his boxers, Scorpius's warm, teasing breath keeping him on the edge of arousal.
"I h-hate you," Al groaned, cracking open an eyelid and looking down at Scorpius—who, little bastard, wasn't even paying attention! No, he was leaning back and peering out the kitchen door as best he could. Whatever he saw apparently pleased him, because Scorpius nodded to himself, turned back around and in one fluid motion yanked Al's boxers down and sucked his cock down to the root.
"Ngh!" Al grunted in surprise and clutched at Scorpius's hair, feeling his face suffuse with blood…just as his father walked into the kitchen. Al flushed even more deeply, and not just from embarrassment at being caught. He knew exactly what sort of picture they presented in profile to the doorway: himself, needy and dissolute, trousers and underwear tangled around his thighs and his shirt rucked up to expose his taut, flexing stomach muscles—and Scorpius, immaculate and precise, looking perfectly calm until your eyes found the eager stretch of his lips around Al's cock, until you heard the soft moans and squelching noises as his slid up and down the solid length, until you smelled the dark musk of his arousal, no less potent than Al's own.
The three of them—Harry, Al, and Scorpius—stayed like that for a moment, a tableau of desire displayed and denied. Then the empty scotch glass, which Scorpius had seen Harry coming to refill, slipped from Harry's fingers to shatter on the tiled floor and the frame was unfrozen. Al and Scorpius both turned toward Harry, but he Disapparated without a sound the moment they moved. Without a sound—but not before Al saw the hungry part of his father's lips, or Scorpius the incriminating swell in the front of his loose, worn jeans.
On New Year's Day, they received the owl. Al sent the little Flammulated Grey on its way with a treat and scratch of its ear tufts while Scorpius scanned the missive it had borne. When he reached the end, he looked at Al, eyes alight, and handed him the parchment. It was only three lines long.
Al—
You win.
—
* * *
They met at the Leaky Cauldron once more, a week later, thinking the back room a safe place to continue on to Al and Scorpius's flat. The simple truth was that as a man of interest to all Wizarding society, Harry had long ago become used to disguising his movements; while an impromptu visit to his son and his son's boyfriend was bound to draw a covert inquirer or two looking for gossip, a trip to the Leaky fro a solitary pint was another matter entirely.
They didn't linger there for long. It seemed that no sooner had Al and Scorpius stepped out of the Floo than they were pulling Harry back in again, whirling through the emerald flames to tumble out into the living room of their flat. After the weeks of anticipation and doubt, of solitary counsels taken and silent decisions made to come to this moment, it could have been horribly awkward. But Al, whose personal Ravenclaw inclinations could not at that moment overcome the Gryffindor recklessness he'd inherited from his father, pressed forward almost immediately and crushed his lips against Harry's. It was hot, and eager, and as uncaring of the consequences as only privileged youth could be.
From behind, Scorpius slid his hands around Harry's chest, his long, clever fingers working at undoing Harry's shirt buttons—but Harry pulled away from both of them with a groan, steadying himself against the mantle with one hand and covering his eyes with the other.
"Really?" he whispered. "Really?"
"Really," Scorpius answered, firm and soothing in equal measure as he drew Harry away from the fireplace and toward the bedroom. Al followed, more than happy to let Scorpius take the lead as Al reeled internally from the force of his own desire.
Though, he suspected, it was less the fact that he was attracted to his father than the slow-dawning realization that he was attracted to this—to sharing Scorpius with and being shared by Scorpius with another man, solely for their own sensual fulfillment—despite the fact that the man in question was his father. That, however, could wait for further examination…
Because right now Scorpius was kneeling in the center of their bed and pulling Harry down beside him. Gesturing with his head for Al come around behind him, Scorpius made short work of Harry's half-undone shirt and tossed it carelessly into a corner. When he started on the trousers, Harry balked a bit, but Al was there to distract him, pressed up flush against Scorpius's back and running his hands over his boyfriend's body in a blatant invitation for Harry to join the fun.
Trembling, Harry reached out and laid the back of his hand against Scorpius's collarbone. He paused for a moment, then slowly slid it down Scorpius's chest, letting his wrist turn naturally until his palm rested flat on the spot where Scorpius's heart thudded a quickening tattoo against his ribs. A stretch brushed his fingers over Scorpius's nipple, making Scorpius melt back against Al with a heartfelt groan.
That, apparently, was enough for Harry. He followed Scorpius back, covering the younger man's neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses as he shifted to rub Scorpius's nipples with him thumbs. Meanwhile, Al was busy stripping Scorpius and himself, so that son all three of them lay naked and tangled together on the bed. Al fumbled the lube off the bedside table and squirted a generous glob onto his fingers, dripping another down Scorpius's crack. While his boyfriend kissed Harry deep and slow, Al slid a finger into the Scorpius's tight little hole and twisted.
"Mmph!" Scorpius cried out, arching his back as he tried to push himself backward onto the slight penetration. Al smiled.
"Give them a nice, hard pinch," Al suggested huskily, meeting Harry's eyes and licking his lips as he continued to work just one finger in and out Scorpius's body. "He's not nearly so sensitive as I am, he'll love it." He knew when Harry obeyed, too, because Scorpius gasped sharply and jerked, his hips stuttering as Al finally drove another finger into him.
"Bastard," he moaned, and Al rested his head against his shoulder.
"And you love it, don't you?" Al murmured, pulling on Scorpius's hair and forcing him look Harry in the eye. "Tell him how much you love it."
"Yes." Scorpius hissed, grey eyes locked on Harry's green as he writhed, trapped between father and son. "I love it, I want it, I want more…"
"If you insist," Al murmured, sliding his fingers out of Scorpius and shoving the blond's hips forward so that he was poised, slick and loose, right above Harry's cock.
"May I?" Scorpius whispered. Harry made a choked, desperate noise and clutched at Scorpius's hips. Taking it for consent, Scorpius slowly lowered himself down. Al felt his satisfied shiver as the head of Harry's cock pushed inside, heard the soft hiss of pain as Scorpius struggled to accommodate a thicker cock—with less preparation—than he was used to. It didn't make him pause for long, however, and as Scorpius worked himself downward Al craned his neck to see his father's expression. Harry's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep, steadying breath, so clearly trying to hold himself back despite the feel of Scorpius's tight, greedy passage clenched around his cock.
"Go ahead, move," Al urged, reaching around Scorpius to stroke Harry's hips with one hand while he tugged Scorpius's shaft with the other. "He can take it."
Harry's hips stuttered upward, pushing his cock deeper into Scorpius, Scorpius pushed back—and that was enough. Both of them moaned loudly as Harry slid slightly out and then shoved back in, finding a rocking, steady rhythm. Al pulled back from Harry and wrapped his arm around Scorpius's waist, supporting him as he sagged into the dual pleasure of Al's hand stroking his cock and Harry pounding into him from beneath.
"Oh, Merlin," breathed Harry, his voice laced with unexpected pleasure. "That's good..oh..oh!" He gasped, startled, as Scorpius ran his hands along his chest, the light, teasing touch a heady contrast to the quickening drive of their hips. Then Scorpius raised his arms and rested his palms on either side of Harry's face, fingers curling gently in Harry's sweaty, black hair so that he could hold Harry's gaze with his own. Slowly he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing Harry's cheekbones—and as he touched their mouths together in an oddly chaste gesture, Scorpius pressed the pads of his thumbs to Harry's eyelids, holding them shut, and murmured deep and rough and strange,
"Come, Harry."
And, just like that, Harry did, back bowing so that his head almost touched the comforter as he jerked his hips upward and spent himself deep and messy inside Scorpius's body.
Scorpius, still unsatisfied, let Harry's limp member slip from his body and turned to face Al, who was staring at him with hungry eyes.
"That. That was. Fucking hot," Al managed, before dragging Scorpius forward and tumbling them both backwards onto the mattress. He went to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, but Scorpius pushed it away with a smirk.
"I've got a better idea. Prop up your shoulders," he ordered, turning as Al obeyed so that he was kneeling on all fours above his boyfriend, chest level with Al's hips while his cock hung thick and heavy over Al's face.
Captivated, Al reached up and wrapped his hand around the long shaft, caressing it slowly while Scorpius moaned and let his head droop down between his elbows. His hips tensed, pushing him into Al's hand, and his reddened, well-stretched hole twitched and leaked pale globs of lube and spunk down the insides of his thighs. Al pushed three fingers inside, squishing them around in the slick-sticky mixture and smiling when Scorpius's breath stuttered and his passage clenched eagerly.
Not to be outdone, however, Scorpius leaned down further—whimpering a little as he almost slipped off Al's fingers—and began to apply his tongue with fervent determination. Al's strangled cry as his head fell back did not go unnoticed; Harry, who had been lying flat on his back in the wake of his orgasm, struggled up onto his elbows and looked over at them. His mouth fell open in surprise and lust at the sight of the two men pleasuring each other. With a grunt of effort, Harry rolled over and crawled around in front of Scorpius, eyes locked on the blond's face as his cock began to fill once more.
Scorpius looked up, meeting Harry's eyes and making, soft, eager noises as he continued to lick along Al's cock in broad, wet stripes. It was glistening now with spit and precum, crimson thickness straining upwards as each puff of Scorpius's breath teased over the sensitive tip.
Harry's cock was inches from Scorpius's face, his hand moving more rapidly now. Occasionally, the plump head brushed against Scorpius's cheek, and left glistening trails of slime across his pale skin.
'Do it," Scorpius urged, grey eyes wide and eager. "Do it, do it…"
Harry groaned deep in his chest, hand flying over his shaft—and when Scorpius bent his head, blond hair falling around his face and blurring his features as he took Al's full length down his throat, Harry shouted and came again. Thick gobs of spunk splattered against Scorpius's face and dripped down to coat Al's cock and balls, sending a jolt of pleasure shivering up Al's spine.
Suddenly, Scorpius gave a startled cry and pulled his mouth of Al's cock, hips writhing desperately backwards. Al's mouth stayed gentle on his sack, tongue caressing Scorpius's cum-filled balls but his hands were rough as he jacked Scorpius's cock and fucked three fingers knuckle-deep into his ass. Scorpius shuddered and jerked under the threefold assault, but just as he had gathered his control and moved to take Al in again, Al curled his hand to shove a fourth finger in Scorpius and squeezed roughly on the end of his cock, startling him into a wailing climax.
Scorpius collapsed, belly smearing the stripes of his own cum on Al's chest, boneless and limp but still determined as he wrapped his lips around the tip of Al's cock and sucked hard. Al moaned and thrust upward, and Scorpius let him, relaxing his throat and allowing Al to fuck his mouth however he wanted.
Then Harry, who had watched Scorpius's climax hungrily despite his own satiation, leaned down and pressed moist lips to Al's plump balls, stained with cum—and it was Al's undoing. He let out a soft, choked gasp and then poured his release down Scorpius's throat more rapidly than Scorpius could swallow, so that the last few spurts dribbled out from between his lips and added to the mess Harry had left on his face.
Flushed, trembling, exhausted his mouth inches from Scorpius's and his cheek resting against the inside of his son's thigh, Harry drew a deep, shuddering breath a whispered a heartfelt,
"Merlin."
And, really, what else could any of them say?
* * *
One week later, an owl arrived at the Manor at Wiltshire, addressed to Draco, Lord Malfoy. It carried a Pensieve vial, silver wisps of memory swirling within, and a plain slip of parchment with a note in Scorpius's elegant, governess-ruled penmanship. It read:
Dear Father,
I believe this may be of interest to you. Please do let me know.
Faithfully yours,
Scorpius
-fin-
