bob says hello

Leon’s fingers are laced with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly while his eyes are focused on the big screen in front of him. You try to focus, but your gaze keeps dropping to his hand, to his thumb moving slowly over your own, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

The credits began to roll, casting soft blue light across Leon’s face. He hadn’t said a word during the whole film, just sat there quiet, steady, his hand warm in yours.

Now, as the theater lights slowly came up and people started shuffling out of their seats, he finally turned his head toward you. His eyes were softer than usual, not tired or serious like on duty, but relaxed. Happy.

Without saying anything yet, he lifts your joined hands slightly and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles before looking at you with that small smile, the one only you ever see.

Your heart constricts in your chest and you beam at him, blinking slightly as the theatre brightens.

“What’d you think?” He asks, and you cock your head. He laughs a little, standing up and pulling you with him. “Of the movie…?”

“Oh!” You laugh, and he continues to hold your hand as you make your way out. “It was- uh, good. Yeah I liked it.”

Leon smirks, squeezing your hand as you walk out into the cool night. The theater parking lot is mostly empty now, just a few stragglers heading to their cars. He swings your joined hands slightly between you like an idiot in love, which he absolutely is.

“Good,” he says simply, then glances over with that quiet affection again, the kind that makes his whole face light up. “I liked holding your hand more than the movie though.”

Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you, soft and sweet right there under a flickering streetlight.

Your steps falter, and your lashes flutter as you tilt your face, your lips pressing into his. Your heart rate goes double time in your chest, making you feel just the slightest bit dizzy.

One touch from him and you’re entirely his tonight.

His hand lets go of yours, cupping the back of your neck and pulling you closer. Your fingers find his belt, resting on the leather. Leon deepens the kiss without hesitation, his lips warm and insistent against yours. The cool night air fades away, and all you feel is him: the firm press of his mouth, the steady strength of his hand around the back of your neck, how perfectly it fits.

His belt clicks softly under your fingers as he leans into you more, one hand still cradling your jaw while the other finds its way to rest on your hip. He kisses like a man who’s been saving it all up, patient but hungry.

After a few breathless seconds, he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown and his cheeks a little pink before he brushes a stray hair from your face.

“Mm, Kennedy,” you murmur, taking half a step back. “Keep kissing me like that and I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep all my clothes on.”

The flush on Leon’s cheeks spreads to his neck, a boyish grin pulling at his mouth. “I- wouldn’t be mad about that.”

You scoff, raising a brow at him. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs, sliding into the drivers seat as you sit in the passengers, crossing your legs and flattening your skirt. “Just a bit.”

Putting the car in drive, he makes a left turn, and you watch him, your lip sliding between your teeth. You squirm, the pressure of wanting him building up between your thighs and you lean over the center console, pressing your lips to his ear. “Take me somewhere.”

Leon’s breath hitches the second your lips brush his ear, and for a split second, he forgets how to drive. His foot slips off the clutch, clunk and the car lurches slightly before he recovers.

The dashboard lights glow softly on his face as you lean in closer, your warm breath ghosting over his skin. Your mouth dips, and you press a light kiss to his lobe.

He swallows hard.

Without a word, Leon shifts gears with more purpose than ever before. The engine hums to life beneath him as he pulls out of the theater a lot faster than strictly legal, but who cares? Not tonight.

In seconds, he's making sharp turns through quiet streets, and you mouth at his ear lazily. He clears his throat as he throws the car into park.

You aren’t sure where he parked or if it’s clear but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Leon is pulling off his seatbelt and leaning forward, pressing his mouth to yours so hard your teeth clink.

A small giggle passes your lips as his hands find your waist, long fingers digging in and your hand slides down his chest, to the apparent bulge in his jeans. He inhales sharply and you palm him as your mouths dance, and you sit up on your knees of the passenger side.

Leon pulls back and grips the seat handle, cranking it so that his chair goes back as far as possible. You look at him, with his blown eyes and pouty lips and oh, you could eat him.

“C’mere,” he whispers and it’s a desperate sound. “C’mere, baby.”

You straddle his lap carefully, you skirt riding up your thighs, exposing skin and he leans up, kissing you again. His hand slips between you, a feather light touch to your panties and you nod, encouraging him. No matter how many times he fucks you, he can always use some encouragement.

“Leon,” you whisper, and lick into his mouth. “Want you.”

Leon groans the second your tongue slips into his mouth, and his fingers curl against the damp fabric of your panties. He’s always so careful with you, even when he’s desperate, his hands are shaking a little as he presses a finger to your clit.

His other hand grips your hip hard as you settle fully on his lap, and that small movement makes him throb beneath you. The space is tight in the front seat, the steering wheel digs into your back slightly, but neither of you care.

He breaks the kiss just to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and along your neck. His teeth graze softly over that spot behind your ear, the one that always gets a reaction from you, and then he nips gently before soothing it with his lips.

You lean up, letting him unzip his jeans and you’re tugging your panties to the side. His cock springs free, pale and hard and he runs it through your folds. You give a small gasp, rutting your hips against him and Leon bites his lower lip as he watches with glasses eyes.

He has such pretty eyes.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he mutters, fisting his base as you settle on the head, and slowly sink down. Both of you moan, loud and unapologetic before you splay your hands on his chest. He looks up at your face, jaw slack. “S’okay?”

You smile, cupping his face and pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “Perfect.”

His hands fly up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kisses you again, deep and slow this time. You’re on him. Taking all of him. So tight and warm around his cock, moving with such careful trust, and God, it wrecks him.

He breaks the kiss to press his forehead against yours, breathing unevenly as you rock on his lap just slightly, just savoring each other. His hips twitch upward instinctively for more friction but he stops himself; this is your pace tonight.

One hand slides down into your hair while the other grips your ass through fabric-covered skin, gentle possession mixed with awe that someone so incredible wants him.

“Love you,” he murmurs, and you nod, your nose brushing his. “So much.”

“Love you more.” You whisper and you realize with a little drive of your hips you mean it. You’re so in love with him it makes you dizzy.

Hand on his chest, you settle into an easy bounce, the movement deep and smooth. His forehead is slicked with sweat, and the only sound filling the car is the gentle slap slap of skin on skin.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut, his breath coming in shallow gasps as you move on him- slow, sweet rolls of your hips that make every nerve light up. Each motion pulls a quiet moan from his throat, the kind he’d never let anyone else hear. Raw and tender and yours. Only yours.

His hands slide under your skirt now, warm palms spreading over the backs of your thighs to feel more of you, skin on skin, and he leans forward to kiss along your collarbone between soft pants.

He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t try to flip you or take control; he lets you make the decisions. Your mouth finds his and you kiss him fully, letting your eyes close as his tongue swipes at yours.

“I-I’m-”

“I know,” you coo, and your hips go faster. He shakes his head, gripping your thighs harder.

“But I want you to…feel good.” You can see the blush in his cheeks and it’s the prettiest thing.

“I feel good making you feel good,” you hum, and he smiles back. “Okay?”

Leon doesn’t answer, instead he slides one hand to the junction between your thighs, and circles until you make a small gasping sound. He found the spot, he always does, and he watches you with an intense gaze as your lips part, pleasure sweeping over your features.

Leon’s thumb keeps moving in slow, precise circles, firm but gentle pressure right where you need it. He knows your body so well now, every hitch of breath, every tiny arch of your back.

The look on his face is pure devotion, the way he watches you unravel for him like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. His other hand still holds one thigh open for him, and his hips twitch upward slightly with each bounce to meet yours deeper.

A soft whimper slides from your mouth and you’re pitching forward, clutching to him as that fuzzy warmth glides over you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, and you’re squeezing him so well he knows he’s not far behind. “There you go.”

You’re panting when you come down from your high, but you don’t stop your movements. You bounce on him quicker now, with purpose, and the hand on your thigh tightens as he floods you.

Leon’s whole body goes taut beneath you, his back arches slightly against the seat, his mouth drops open in a silent oh, and then he spills inside you with a shuddering gasp.

He doesn’t make loud noises. Not ever. But the way his breath hitches, how his eyes squeeze shut for one long second, pure bliss, tells you everything.

His hips stutter up into yours on instinct as wave after wave hits him, and he pulls your body flush to his chest so he can bury his face in your neck. He kisses there rapidly, wet little pecks mixed with panting breaths, as if thanking every inch of skin.

You stay there, letting him hold you as you both come down, and when you slide from his lap to your seat, you can feel his spend on your thigh.

“S-sorry,” he blurts, like he’s embarrassed, and reaches into his backseat. “I have a shirt somewhere-”

He hands you a folded tshirt and you can tell it’s clean. You wipe up your inner thigh before adjusting your underwear and skirt, and Leon zips up his jeans. It’s hot in the car, the windows a bit stuffy, and he rolls them down. He watches you clean up with quiet attentiveness, his cheeks still pink. He’s not usually embarrassed after sex, especially not with you, but there’s something tender about how he watches you. Like he wants to make sure it was good for you, too.

Once the shirt is discarded and tucked back where it came from Leon leans over and kisses your temple before starting the car. The engine purrs to life as he checks his mirrors, then glances at you. “Want me to take you home? Or… wanna go get ice cream?”

You grin. “Post sex ice cream sounds fantastic.”

He puts the car into drive with a smile, and his hand finds your thigh. You lace your fingers with his, and press a kiss to the back of his hand.

“That was-unexpected.” He chuckles and you give a little shrug.

“I- yeah,” you murmur a little sheepish. “Sorry I kind of, jumped your bones there.”

Leon squeezes your thigh, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of your skirt. “Don’t be sorry,” he says quickly, voice warm. “I loved it.”

He brings your joined hands up to press a kiss to yours—right on the knuckles—and then rests them back down.

“Honestly? Best date night ever.” A lazy grin spreads across his face as he drives toward a 24-hour diner known for their milkshakes and fries. The kind of place couples go after midnight with messy hair and smudged lipstick.

The streetlights paint gold streaks across his profile, the strong line of his jaw, that sweet little scar above his eyebrow from an old training accident, and you just stare for a second because God, you’re so lucky.

“Fuck!” you laugh, and slap a hand over your eyes.

Leon blinks at you in surprise before he turns off the car. “what?”

You tilt your head before shaking it. “I just- when did I become such a sap? Like I’m pathetic when it comes to you.”

“You’re not a sap,” Leon chuckles, and contemplates you. “You’re just…a lovergirl. in love with me,” his voice drops, a little shy again. “I think.”

You smile, wide and full as you lean close to him, your noses brushing before you nod. “You’re right, officer. I really am.”

x

Leon k taglist @yours-truly-andrea @xozoelivia

Leon Kennedy ML

Ao3 link

Softlys locket

June of doom/ swoon June ML

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Sebastian has snuck into the Restricted Section of the library more times than he can recall.

It’s almost too easy to cause a distraction, conceal himself with Disillusionment and slip past Scribner to pick the lock and let himself into Hogwarts’ most valuable collection of rare books, obscure manuscripts, and other magical oddities deemed too advanced (or dangerous) for the average student.

As long as Peeves is otherwise occupied, he usually finds what he’s looking for without incident.

However, it’s been a while since Sebastian has found himself in need of a book from this particular section. Ever since you’d used Isadora’s magic to pull Anne’s curse from her frail body and store it in a goblin-made metal locket, he’d kept his word and avoided practicing any sort of Dark Arts.

He simply doesn’t need to anymore.

(...He still reads about it sometimes. But how else will he know what to avoid?)

Tonight he has a very specific quest as he wanders the underground stacks, keeping a mindful eye out for any nosy ghosts as he makes his way toward one of the sections he hasn’t ever had the mind to explore.

A small piece of parchment is affixed to the end of the row, and in Scribner’s tight, precise scrawl he sees the words, “Sexually Explicit Materials.”

Sebastian smirks – precisely what he sought.

It’s an open secret amongst Hogwarts’ more senior students that somewhere hidden within the Restricted Section was an entire shelf of books all about, well… relations. Witches would whisper to each other about how they could probably find out everything they’d ever wanted to know about the mysterious opposite sex.

The wizards just hoped that could find some illustrations.

At least a few times per year, some ambitious students would attempt to get a teacher’s permission to access such books, but most failed. Sebastian, not willing to risk being turned down, figured it would be better to ask forgiveness if he was caught “borrowing” a few books rather than seek someone like Sharp’s permission.

He peered closely at the spines as he crept down the length of the aisle.

Smethwyk’s Guide to Marital Relations… Magickal Self-Knowledge… Sexual Behaviour in the Contemporary Wizard… Bewitching the Fairer Sexe…

That last one piques his interest.

He slides it off the shelf and gingerly opens the front cover, hoping that the book won’t start to sensually moan (or worse) and alert the librarian of his presence. Mercifully it remains silent, so he eagerly starts to flip through its pages.

Oh, there are illustrations and then some. The magical kind that move, at that.

Sebastian knows that if anyone were to catch him right now, he’d be terminally embarrassed. But he’s determined to read this book from cover to cover – not merely out of curiosity, but because he has a purpose now.

Since the two of you had decided to make the leap from friends to something more, you’ve already shared so many lovely milestones. To Sebastian, they were all meaningful: the first time you’d kissed, the first time you’d felt each other through your clothes, the first time you’d both had to spring apart and catch your breaths because things had gotten very intense very quickly. (That last memory is one of his favorites to relive.)

But earlier that week, you’d sprung on him that you were ready.

“Ready?” he’d asked dumbly.

“Ready,” you breathed, kissing down his jaw to his neck while you squirmed impatiently in his lap. “For you, for more.”

“You want more?” Sebastian sighed contently, tipping his head back so you can suck one of those claiming bruises you love to put on him. “We have all night, love, and I’m certainly in no rush.”

“I mean for sex,” you blurted out.

“Y-you said you’re ready for…?” he stammered. “W-well, I mean–”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you mumbled, immediately backing off. “You must think me truly wicked for even suggesting it.”

In fact, Sebastian wasn’t thinking much of anything at that moment. But he forced himself to focus and reassure you that he wasn’t upset with you at all.

He’s quite interested, it’s just… he feels hopelessly ignorant.

He knows you lived in the Muggle world until you were fifteen, and that there’s no such compunction about talking about sexual relations at that age within non-magic spaces. Witches and wizards remain staunchly conservative on the matter, however, and generally the topic of “marital intimacy” is firmly taboo in public at Hogwarts.

Students are undoubtedly curious, but many will remain pretty naive until they leave school.

You, however, are not ignorant. He’s fairly confident you’ve never indulged in that sort of behavior with anyone else, but your knowledge of what witches and wizards do together, what the two of you might do together is assuredly more robust than his own.

He simply can’t have that.

Sebastian slips Bewitching the Fairer Sexe into his school bag and sneaks back out of the library. He doesn’t crack it open again until he’s back in the dormitory with the curtains pulled tightly around his bed.

At first he doesn’t bother casting Silencio, because that’s not what this is about. He’s stubbornly focused on learning from this text, not on becoming distracted by all the enchanted illustrations of the erogenous zones of a witch’s body, or where exactly one should touch between her thighs to bring her to her climax, or even how a wizard can use his mouth to pleasure her…

Merlin, who is he kidding? Better do a Silencio just in case.

—

Sebastian clings to that book for nearly a full week before he’s caught.

By you, no less, which is horrifically embarrassing.

He’d even kept it hidden from his dormmates with the exception of Ominis, who can always tell when he’s got a secret. He just assures Sebastian that he couldn’t care less about a smutty book as long as it doesn’t involve any phonic components.

But he’d left it underneath his pillow with a single corner sticking out, and that’s all it took for you to find it when you let yourself into the seventh-year wizards’ room to borrow one of your love’s scarves for your afternoon walk down to Hogsmeade.

When you don’t return quickly, Sebastian goes upstairs to track you down.

He’s horrified to discover you sitting cross-legged on his bed, lazily flipping through the book.

“That’s not mine,” he blurts out in a panic.

“It was on your bed,” you counter, barely looking up from its pages. “Under your pillow, even.”

“You’re snooping through my things?” he demands as he feels himself flush red.

“Obviously,” you scoff. “Like you wouldn’t do the same if you could get into my room.”

“That’s not the point,” he insists. “I – will you quit looking at that?!”

“Why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “It’s really quite informative, this book of yours. Not a bad resource.”

He anxiously runs a hand through his hair and mutters, “Merlin’s beard.”

“You know what might have been easier, though?” you say, finally closing the book and leaning over to drop it on Sebastian’s side table.

When he doesn’t answer, you get up from the bed and cross the room to him before taking his hands and placing them firmly on your waist.

“You could have just asked me,” you say softly.

He immediately makes a face.

“What?” you protest.

“I just… I wanted to figure out what I’m doing before coming to you,” he admits. “Felt like I was supposed to.”

“Why’s that?” you ask softly, winding your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m a wizard,” Sebastian says as if it’s supposed to be obvious. “I’m not supposed to be so clueless.”

You gently remind him, “But you’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend,” he retorts.

“Sure, but I had Muggle friends,” you explain. “They talk about sex, they’re not as repressed as you wizards.”

“If you think I’m repressed, may I introduce you to Ominis?” Sebastian jokes, and you roll your eyes fondly.

“All I’m saying is, I may know a thing or two,” you murmur as you raise up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “And we can always talk about what we want.”

As you kiss him, Sebastian stubbornly thinks, I know a thing or two as well now.

His hands drift from your waist down to your hips as he pulls you closer, earning a soft sigh from you that makes him smile against your lips.

“Tell me what you want then,” he asks as his hands continue sliding down to your ass.

“Right now?” you ask softly. “Here?”

“If you want,” he offers. “Everyone else is out for the day, we have all afternoon.”

“Yes,” you gasp, and Sebastian isn’t sure if you’re agreeing with him or reacting to him slipping his hands underneath your skirt to feel your bare skin.

He steals a few more increasingly urgent kisses before breaking away from you to put a quick locking spell on the door.

You return to Sebastian’s bed while he shrugs off his jacket, promptly abandoning it on the floor. His vest and shirt follow while you watch with an expectant look.

Before reaching for his belt, he skeptically looks you up and down. “Why aren’t you taking your clothes off?”

“I was hoping you would do it for me,” you say softly.

Merlin, you are absolutely going to be the death of him one of these days.

Thoughts of his belt abandoned, Sebastian joins you on the bed and cups your face in his hands so he can thoroughly kiss you before getting to work taking off your uniform. By now you’ve both seen a fair bit more of each other than you have of anyone else, but never like this – never fully bare.

Your vest and tie are simple enough as they’re just like his own, but once he starts unbuttoning your shirt, he reveals a whole new layer: a thin chemise that sits just below your shoulders tucked inside a simple white corset that cinches your waist. Its seams drew clear attention to your breasts, and Sebastian wishes he could simply charm the damn thing right off you.

However, he remembers from his reading that you might enjoy being rid of it by his hands instead, slowly building the sort of anticipation that his book had claimed witches crave in the bedroom.

He feels vindicated each time your breath hitches when he slips open another one of the corset’s delicate hooks. Once the garment goes slack and falls open to your sides, he enthusiastically slides his hands beneath your chemise and cups your breasts in his hands.

“Touch me,” you groan, arching your back.

“I am touching you,” he teases.

You whine frustratedly and place your hands over his through your shirt, encouraging him to properly take hold of you.

That won’t do, Sebastian thinks. He wants to reassure you that he is not naive to your pleasure, that he knows exactly where he needs to touch you to drive you mad.

He’s read that you’re sensitive here, especially when you’re wanting for touch. He drags his thumbs over your nipples, both at the same time, and you sigh his name.

If he hasn’t already been growing hard in his trousers, that certainly would have done it.

“Touch you here is what you meant, hmm?” he murmurs as he rubs slow circles over your tender peaks. “Let’s try to be more specific next time, love.”

You don’t even bother telling him to bugger off, which lets him know he’s gotten you worked up already.

You pout endearingly when Sebastian removes his hands from your chest. He assuages you with a quick kiss before coaxing you into arching your back for him again so he can toss the corset to the floor. Then he pulls your chemise up over your head and quickly chucks it away as well. Now he can actually see your chest, already flushed pink from just his hands.

You cry out when he licks one of your stiff nipples and takes it into his mouth. He moans into your skin and sucks at you, remembering having read to be gentle with you here. You reward his efforts by twisting your fingers into his curls to hold him against your breast and stroking your thumb along his hollowed cheek.

Amused, he recalls being a younger student and hearing some of the seventh-year insisting that witches tasted like a wide range of things. Often they insisted the taste was either floral or sweet like sugar candies, but one of them had even claimed he’d pressed his lips to his girlfriend’s chest and tasted elderflower wine.

You don’t taste like any of those things. On his tongue Sebastian notices only the clean taste of warm skin, like when he kisses your neck, and maybe a lingering note of the rosewater perfume you sometimes wear. It’s heady and human and maddeningly perfect.

“Just like that, Seb,” you whine.

Beneath him, your legs fall open wider and your skirt is rucked up to the middle of your thighs. Sebastian thinks it’s a crying shame you’re even still wearing the silly thing, so he pulls away from you with a filthy wet sound and reaches for the clasp at the side of your skirt.

“Lift up,” he murmurs and you tilt your hips so he can tug your skirt down. He easily hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your undergarments as well so that he can get you naked all at once.

You’re a sight straight from one of his daydreams like this – nude and flushed all over with your legs spread in his bed.

He grips his cock through his trousers to give himself some much-needed relief while you observe with a covetous stare.

“I want to see you,” you tell him. “And don’t you dare say ‘you can already see me’ or some nonsense, I want to see your cock.”

“As you wish, love,” he says cheekily.

After undoing his trousers, Sebastian shoves them and his own undergarments down to the middle of his thighs. He can’t resist the urge to stroke himself a few times before letting you take a look.

As far as “wand lengths” go, he never much worried about comparing himself to others; he thought he could safely say that he was at least average. Now though, the seconds feel like minutes underneath your gaze. You’re quite red in the face and your eyes are wider than usual, and he suddenly realizes that it’s the first time anyone else has ever looked at him like this.

He didn’t think it would feel that significant, but it does.

“Well?” Sebastian asks teasingly, desperate for you to say something.

Finally, you stutter, “W-well, you’re definitely bigger than my fingers.”

“Your fingers?” he says. “You mean when you…?”

“Yes,” you squeak. “And now I’m nervous it’s going to hurt.”

He frowns. “Oh.”

“B-but I want to!” you quickly insist. “I just think, um. Maybe we can start with something else?”

“Love,” Sebastian murmurs fondly, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “Of course we’re going to work our way there, I wasn’t ever going to just put it in right away.”

“No?” you sigh distractedly.

“Aren’t you witches supposed to love foreplay?” he teases. “I read all about it in my book.”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

He raises an eyebrow and you continue to stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you were supposed to ‘know a thing or two,’” he says. “Foreplay is everything we do before the actual, er. Penetrative part. Surely you weren’t expecting to just…?”

Everything Sebastian had read had told him that under no circumstances should he press inside you without ensuring you were prepared. He’d poured over the illustrations that instructed him how to use his fingers to stimulate you, how to help acclimate you to feeling full before he filled you with his cock. (He learned he could even use his tongue to do the job, which sounds bloody brilliant.)

“I – I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I know you’re going to go inside. And I know how I use my fingers on myself sometimes, but I just…”

You trail off sheepishly. “Maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought.”

Sebastian is quite pleased by this turn of events. “Bet you’re glad I found that book then, aren’t you?”

You scoff and spread your legs a little bit wider. “Let’s see it then, you know-it-all. Show me this ‘foreplay’ of yours.”

He quickly shoves his pants the rest of the way off and kneels between your legs, one hand gently resting on the lowest part of your stomach. He thinks you’re even lovelier between your thighs than the illustrations, with your taut, delicate skin flushed pink and glistening wet at your entrance.

“Just one to start,” he mumbles to himself, pressing the tip of his middle finger against your slit with his palm up just as he’d learned.

Your body opens up for Sebastian so beautifully that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that this must surely be some kind of ancient magic in itself – perhaps a primordial form as old as wizardkind.

His mouth on you earlier has gotten you plenty wet, and inside you’re soft as silk and feverishly warm. He curses under his breath at the realization that soon enough, he’ll feel this on his cock. (He has no idea how he’ll ever be able to go back to his own hand and some salve after this.)

“Good?” he asks you distractedly.

“Yes,” you sigh.

He glances up to check your expression and finds that your eyes have slipped shut, and there’s a blissful smile on your lips.

Determined to keep you focused, Sebastian murmurs, “Tell me how you use your fingers on yourself.”

“I – I usually use two, maybe three,” you admit shyly. “But my hands are smaller than yours.”

“Do you like to think about anything while you touch yourself?” he asks in a low voice.

You whine like you’re overwhelmed, but your hips cant toward his hand and he can tell what you’re asking for. He pulls out until just the tip of his finger is inside you, and then he presses back in with his index finger tucked alongside it.

“Yes, Seb,” you whimper.

“Go on then, tell me what you think about,” he croons. “I’ll tell you what I think about if you do.”

He starts to fuck his hand into you like that, burying two long fingers in you all the way to the knuckle. Watching you take him inside you like this is a thousand times more captivating than any illustration in any smutty book that’s ever been published, he’s sure of it.

“I can’t,” you protest. “We aren’t supposed to — that’s dirty, talking about that.”

“Dirtier than this?” he asks wryly. “Love, you can tell me anything.”

You stay stubbornly silent until Sebastian presses his thumb to that swollen nub that peeks out just above your entrance, the one that looks like it’s aching to be touched. Just the lightest touch elicits a broken moan out of you.

“Tell me what you think about and I’ll give you a third finger,” he bargains.

“P-please,” you beg. “I just – I just think about you, you on top of me, what your body looks like, it’s always just you.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he taunts as he makes good on his word and starts to press his ring finger in alongside the other two.

This time there’s noticeably more resistance. You were right, you do have smaller hands than him and his three longer, masculine fingers are more of a stretch than you typically give yourself. Sebastian laves more attention onto your clit, pressing his thumb against you a bit harder to distract you. You’re still plenty wet, and he assumes that’s a promising sign.

Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you try to relax for his fingers, but you nevertheless remember to demand that he tell you his fantasies.

“You want to know what I think about?” he asks casually. “It’s been the same thing for a while, really.”

“W-what is it?” you ask, stuttering a little when he succeeds in pressing all three fingers deep inside you.

“It’s you, in my bed, moaning my name, begging for me to fuck you,” he tells you. “Every time I stroke myself off, that’s all I need.”

He punctuates each detail with a thrust of his hand. You’re slick all over by now, and Sebastian has to imagine that a lesser wizard would give up at this point and eagerly replace his fingers with his cock.

But he’s not done with you yet. He’d been quite surprised to learn from that wonderful book that many witches can reach multiple climaxes in a row, provided they’re being seen to by a courteous wizard. He wants to give you your first right now, before he becomes distracted by chasing his own.

“Are you going to come, love?” Sebastian asks. “Just from my fingers?”

“N-no, I want to wait until you’re inside me,” you protest weakly, but your hips are rocking up to meet him with every thrust of his hand.

“Let me make you come like this,” he bargains. “I’m not going to stop at one, darling, I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied.”

Your thighs are properly trembling now – Merlin, you must be right on the edge. That’s when Sebastian gets the idea of leaning down and replacing his thumb on your clit with his tongue.

Immediately his world goes dark as you clamp your thighs around his head and wail.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant as he seals his lips against your skin. “Seb, please!”

He feels you get even tighter around his fingers when you come. He can barely even move them for several long seconds, so he focuses instead on drawing out your pleasure with his mouth. You hold him there with your legs until you can’t take the stimulation anymore, and when he pulls out of you and sits back on his heels, he imagines he must look mad.

Hair mussed, pupils blown, lips wet… you’ve made an utter fiend out of him.

“Suppose I did alright, then,” he observes with a smirk.

“Sebastian,” you sigh weakly. “Come kiss me.”

He bends down so you can wordlessly express your thanks with a lewd kiss – one that tastes like your own body’s release. It’s erotic, and wanton, and it reminds Sebastian of his aching, ignored cock that’s assuredly leaking all over his sheets by now.

“You must be in a dire state by now,” you observe, lips brushing against his.

“That’s an understatement,” he jokes. “I think I might faint if I wait any longer.”

“Then don’t wait,” you coo. “Go on, Seb, you can.”

He clenches his jaw hard when he sits back to guide his cock against your entrance. There’s no way he’s going to last long in this state, not with you spread open and waiting for him like this. Squeezing his hand around the base of his cock helps a bit while he sinks inside you, but he still feels overpowered by the immensity of the feeling of filling you up.

“Merlin, you’re big,” you hiss. “B-but it’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” he manages to ask.

You press your hands to his bare chest and he understands that it’s a wordless plea for him to pause, just for a moment. It’s pure torture, but he remains still inside you while you adjust.

“Merlin,” you whisper. “You’re really… we’re really…”

“I’m begging you, don’t say another word,” Sebastian grits out. “Or this will be over right now.”

You giggle, flattered by his admission, and even the motion of your body laughing threatens to put him over the edge.

“You know I don’t care about that,” you tell him softly. “Forget about your pride. I just want you to feel as good as you made me feel.”

Now Sebastian is the one at a loss for words, merely moaning as you drag your hands down his chest to his hips and encourage him to move.

Once he starts, he can’t stop. He tries to remember everything he’d read in that damn book: maintain a steady rhythm, don’t pull out all the way, keep pleasuring her with your hands…

Most of it he quickly disregards. He thinks to himself, how could he be doing this wrong? This feeling, fucking you, it feels like an instinct he never knew he had. He has to fill you over and over with his cock, he simply must.

And judging by the way you’re arching your back and crying out his name while he slams into you, he’s not leaving you unsatisfied.

In fact, he nearly sees stars when you slip a hand between your bodies and hurriedly rub at your clit until you’re coming again in what has to be some sort of record time. Only this time, when you reach your peak and your walls tighten around his cock, there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from falling right over the edge with you.

Sebastian feels properly spent by the time you both come back to your senses. Still buried inside you, he can feel how he’s filled you up with his release. It satisfies something in his feral hindbrain that much prefers spilling inside of you rather than his own hand.

He sees it start to leak out of you when he pulls out, and he recalls reading that a good wizard should offer his witch a rag to clean up after such a marvelous ending. He attempts to climb off the bed to track one down but you hook your leg behind his knee and whine for him to stay.

“I just want to get you–”

“No, I don’t need anything but you,” you insist, reaching for him to tug him down against your body.

Sebastian bests you when it comes to both height and breadth, but you don’t seem to mind his weight pinning you to the mattress. (Though even if you did, there’s hardly room for the two of you to lie beside each other in one of Hogwarts’ infuriatingly small beds.)

You’re both quiet for a while as you enjoy the simplicity of each other’s company, occasionally sharing a few lazy kisses or a whispered reminder of your love.

Eventually, Sebastian drawls, “I reckon I can return that book now.”

“Hold on,” you counter. “There may be some more tricks in there that we might want to try next time.”

“You dirty minx,” he laughs. “I suppose I’ve ‘bewitched’ you, have I?”

“Sebastian Sallow, I was bewitched by you quite long ago,” you tell him. “But we’ll have to wait and see whether that dirty book of yours gives you any more brilliant ideas for what to do with me.”

prologue (G, 1.3K words) [AO3]

Sebastian Sallow was seven years old the first time he rode a broom.

chapter one (PG, 2.3K words) [AO3]

Regardless, I’ll be ready for tryouts come September. You’ll come to watch, won’t you? – Bash

chapter two (T, 2.4K words) [AO3]

“He is,” she says fondly. “Just like our parents, really, but… after they passed, he decided he didn’t want to go down that same path. All the books, all the research – it can be stifling. He’d much rather be a hundred feet in the air than stuck in a cellar.”

chapter three (E, 4K words) [AO3]

“Sebastian Sallow races along the south side of the pitch in pursuit of the Golden Snitch,” he calls out. “He’s certainly focused – I’ve seen that expression before, and trust me, you don’t want to find yourselves on the opposite side of Sallow when he’s this keen!”

chapter four (E, 5.1K words) [AO3]

“Leave it on,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see you in my jersey the entire time I’m taking you apart.”

“Not so fast, Sallow,” you counter. “Let me give you a massage first, it will help with the soreness.”

chapter five (E, 3K words) [AO3]

Sebastian is waiting for you in the common room when you come downstairs. When he sees you he frowns, his eyes raking up and down the length of your jersey. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

By the time spring rolls around, few at Hogwarts are surprised that the Slytherin Quidditch team has rather easily carved a path to the Quidditch Cup final. Sebastian has played brilliantly all year, almost always securing the Snitch well before the opposing team can rack up anywhere near enough points to give the Slytherins a true challenge. Even when he doesn’t, Imelda’s intense training regimen has the Chasers in tip-top shape to earn enough points to secure a win regardless.

What is a surprise is that the Gryffindor team managed to claim the other spot, meaning that the possibility of a rematch between Sallow and Prewett was undoubtedly the hottest topic of conversation leading up to the final.

To others, Sebastian is convincingly calm about the matter. You, of course, can tell that he’s quite nervous – he’s having trouble sleeping at night, and his usually robust appetite has dwindled to practically nothing.

“Please eat some breakfast, Sebastian,” you ask him the morning of the match. “At least some toast.”

“I’m not hungry,” he insists sullenly.

You glance where his gaze is pointed and see that Leander Prewett is haughtily holding court at the Gryffindor table across the hall, already dressed head to toe in his uniform. Undoubtedly he’s bragging about how he’d almost one-upped Sebastian the last time the two of them had come to blows – probably leaving out that he surely would’ve wound up with Nurse Blainey overnight if he hadn’t apologized to you.

“Bash,” you croon, luring his attention away. “Don’t pay attention to him.”

“He’s a twat,” Sebastian grumbles.

“He is,” you agree. “And today you’re going to thoroughly trounce him and the rest of the Gryffindor team without coming to blows. Promise?”

“Sure,” he says unconvincingly.

“I heard Clopton was taking bets on whether you’d get into another fight,” Anne interjects with a grin. “He’s got fair odds on Prewett, but better ones if you duke it out with anyone else on their team.”

“Come now, Anne,” Ominis scoffs. “You know well and good that the best odds are on whether or not they use their wands this time.”

“You two are not helping,” you hiss.

By the time Sebastian leaves you to go warm up with the rest of the team, you’re a ball of nerves yourself. It only worsens when Hogwarts’ student body gets up en masse and makes its way down to the pitch. Anne and Ominis join you in the stands in the best seats you can wrangle, but even being the Seeker’s girlfriend doesn’t mean you can secure the prime seats down the front – those had quickly been snapped up by the most fervent of Slytherin supporters.

(Mostly excitable underclassmen who had arrived hours ago, but also some more senior girls who you are quite certain are only there to watch Sebastian.)

Once Kogawa starts the match, Sebastian and Leander both take off for opposite ends of the pitch. You have no way of knowing which one of them has spotted the Snitch already, but you think it’s likelier they’re both merely avoiding each other.

Sure enough, an hour flies by with little action from either Seeker. Thus far the Slytherin team has done a respectable job by putting their team into the triple digits, but Gryffindor’s Beaters are particularly vicious and manage to knock a Bludger into Priscilla Wakefield that sends her tumbling into the grass. All of a sudden your team is down a Chaser.

“Bollocks,” Anne grumbles.

“It’s going to come down to the Snitch now,” Ominis says ruefully. “There’s no way Slytherin wins without it.”

“Come on, Bash,” you whisper, watching him weave between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections in an easy loop, eyes fixed on the pitch.

Suddenly he swoops low toward the pitch and just barely skims the grass before he’s arcing high up into the air. The crowd around you gasps – surely he’s spotted the Snitch if he’s flying around like that, they must think.

But instead of heading back toward the ground or circling the pitch in pursuit of the glittering golden ball, you realize that he’s on a path to collide with the Slytherin students section. Then before your very eyes, Sebastian pivots at the last second, vaults himself off his broom and tumbles right over the railing and into the stands, leaving his Yew Weaver floating in midair fifty feet above the ground.

The crowd around you erupts into noise – shouts, scoffs and astonished yelps break through as he starts to muscle his way through the spectators and climb the stands toward you.

“Bash!” you yell, bewildered. “What in Merlin’s name do you think–”

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss when he reaches you, wrapping one arm around your waist to haul you against his chest. Someone near you catcalls, setting off a wave of delighted laughs, and you vaguely hear Violet McDowell make a very displeased sound.

“Sebastian!” Anne exclaims. “Have you actually lost your mind?!”

“You can snog any time, you oaf,” Ominis hisses. “You’re in the middle of a match!” 

“Not anymore I’m not,” he breathes against your mouth.

Without breaking away from you, Sebastian lifts his right fist into the air and reveals the thrumming Snitch he’d evidently scooped up right off the ground, its wings unfolding and fluttering proudly. The Slytherin section becomes impossibly louder as students begin to cheer and chant, “Sal-low! Sal-low! Sal-low!”

The announcer calls the match and far below you, Imelda hoists the Quidditch Cup into the air while the rest of the Slytherin team haphazardly lands on the ground and tackles her into one big group hug. Sebastian remains in the stands with you, one arm wrapped around you protectively while your fellow students bombard him with congratulations.

Slowly the student section empties onto the grass in a sea of green, with students splitting off in waves to return to the castle. You know the real party will be taking place in your common room, but the energy on the pitch is simply electrifying.

Sebastian gets a turn hoisting the cup high above his head and he even lets you have a go at lifting it, as well as both Anne and a bemused Ominis, who finds the whole thing just a touch too rambunctious for his tastes. Fortunately, as it was the last game of the season, Imelda doesn’t round up the team to go into the changing room to discuss their performance, which means most of the other players take off rather quickly.

At one point, you catch Sebastian looking at you with heat in his eyes, and a similar heat starts to pool low in your stomach.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask him teasingly. “Care to share with the class?”

“Not here,” he murmurs, glancing around at the crowd. “Come on.”

He takes your hand and starts to weave out of the crowd with you, making your way toward the tunnels where the empty changing rooms are located. The drop in volume is stunning once you duck inside the canvas tunnel, and by the time Sebastian pulls you into one of the changing rooms, it’s practically silent.

“Wow,” you whisper.

“It’s charmed so we can’t hear the crowds when we’re meeting in here,” Sebastian explains. “Bit intimidating otherwise.”

“Of course,” you breathe, but before you can say another word he’s pulling you against his chest once more and kissing you senseless, his gloved hands skimming across your body.

“B-Bash,” you stammer. “Let’s go, we – we can hurry back, c’mon.”

“I’m not going to make it upstairs,” Sebastian insists. “Love, I need you. Right now.”

“I do too, but what are you suggesting, we simply do it here?” you ask insistently. “We’re in public, Sebastian.”

“No one is here,” he explains. “The entire team went straight back to the common room to celebrate, we’re all alone.”

…He does have a point.

“All alone?” you murmur hesitantly. “You’re positive?”

Sebastian grins at you like he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “I’m quite sure.”

It’s honestly embarrassing how easy it is for Sebastian to talk you out of your robes. You’re stripped down to your chemise before you can even get him to take off his sporting cloak. Once you’re standing completely bare in the middle of the changing room and Sebastian is tugging off his dirt-stained trousers, you peer around the empty space. Save for the lockers, benches and a chalkboard covered in Imelda’s strategic illustrations, it’s largely empty.

“How are we going to do this?” you ask him skeptically. “Conjure a bed?”

“I have a better idea,” he says with a cheeky grin.

He takes your hand and starts to walk you to the back of the room. Around a corner you find a square, tiled room with six taps sticking out of the walls, looking much like ones lining the bathtub in the luxurious prefects’ bathroom.

“Are these showers?” you ask, surprised. “Wait. You’ve had a shower here this entire time?”

“I’ve never really used them much,” he says with a shrug. “Since the teams went co-ed, it doesn’t seem fair to make the girls walk all the way up to the castle to have a bath, so we let them use it.”

“How chivalrous,” you snort.

Sebastian turns on the taps and the room starts to fill up with steam from the warm water. You find yourself shivering standing there nude, so he gently walks you underneath the running water and smiles brilliantly while you gasp and giggle at the feeling of being soaked with water in such a large open room.

“Good idea?” he asks teasingly.

“Great idea,” you tell him as you tug him toward you for a lazy kiss.

You can feel that he’s already half hard at your hip, and thanks to the water it’s all too easy to reach down and slowly stroke him until he’s moaning into your mouth and bucking against your hand.

“Let me touch you,” he whimpers. “Merlin, I need to feel you.”

He walks you back against the cold tile wall and coaxes you into lifting a leg up onto his arm, knee hooked over his elbow so he can part your thighs and grind the head of his cock against your slit. He doesn’t dip inside, not yet, but that little bit of contact makes you both moan, the sound echoing off the tile.

He’s just worked two fingers inside you and is murmuring mindlessly about how good you feel when you hear the door to the changing room slam open. You both freeze.

“Why would it be in here?” a voice you don’t recognize asks.

“I don’t know,” another voice laughs, but you realize this voice belongs to Andrew Larson, one of the Ravenclaw boys in your year who shares Astronomy class with you and serves as captain for his house’s Quidditch team. “But I’ve looked everywhere else, so maybe I left it here after the game last week.”

“Just look quickly, alright? We’re missing the Slytherin’s party for this,” the stranger grumbles.

You’re trembling, one of your legs still lifted while Sebastian winks at you and curls his fingers inside you without saying a word. You squeak and slam your eyes shut – he’s evil for that, you think. 

“Hang on… Did someone leave the shower on?” one of the boys asks, and you feel panic bubble up inside your stomach.

Always quick on his feet, Sebastian calls out, “Larson, I’m just finishing up in here.”

“Sallow!” Andrew calls out delightedly. “What in Merlin’s name are you still doing here? You ought to hurry up, I imagine your housemates are waiting on you to start the party.”

“Won’t be long,” he insists – far too casually for someone who’s got his fingers inside you, you think. “Give me some privacy, will you? I’ve just been flying for an hour, I smell foul.”

Andrew and his companion both laugh understandingly.

“Fair enough,” he relents. “I’m just looking for a library book I’ve lost, if I don’t find it Scribner will have my head.”

“Good luck, mate,” Sebastian offers cheerfully.

Then he pulls his fingers out of you and lets you lower your leg so he can turn you around. Facing the wall of the shower, Sebastian nudges your thighs apart with his leg and lines himself up with your entrance. Aided by the water he easily sinks inside you and presses you against the wall. You gasp sharply, both at the intrusion and at the feeling of the cold tile against your hardened nipples.

“Shh,” Sebastian whispers against the back of your neck. “You must be quiet, love, or I’ll have to stop. D’you want me to stop?”

“No!” you whimper. “Please don’t stop.”

Your fingers claw at the wet tiles trying to grab onto something, anything to help ground yourself as Sebastian grinds deeper inside you. You feel exposed in a way you’ve never felt before, with no blanket to hide under or door to slam shut behind you. You’re bare in the middle of an open shower, and should either boy in the other room round the corner to the showers for any reason, you would have no way to hide what Sebastian is doing to you – what you’re doing together.

You had no idea that the threat of being caught like this, doing something so improper in such a public way, would be so erotic.

“Good girl,” Sebastian murmurs. “Be nice and quiet and they’ll never know you were here.”

You can hear Andrew and his friend chatting aimlessly about Ancient Runes while Sebastian fucks you, taking care to stick to slow, deep thrusts so the sound of wet skin on skin doesn’t alert the nearby boys to what’s truly going on.

Even without the quicker pace you both usually prefer, the slow, thorough fucking you’re receiving is enough to drive you mad. You feel claimed like this, like you were merely there in the stands that afternoon to offer Sebastian a wanton reward for his victory – a prize he can bury his cock in.

You can’t help the desperate keens that slip out every time he hits that sinful spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. Sebastian can tell you’re barely holding on, so he waits until he’s fairly positive he heard the changing room door shut behind Andrew and his friend before he starts to properly lay into you, hips smacking loudly against your ass.

“Touch me!” you plead in a desperate whisper. “Bash, I’m so close, please.”

He laces one hand with yours against the wall for leverage and slides his other around the front of you to find your clit. Three fingertips pressed right against that sensitive spot is all you need to see stars, and Sebastian chokes on your name when you reach your climax and go fiercely tight around him.

You’re still a panting, writhing mess after you come back to yourself, making Sebastian groan in frustration while you squirm from sensitivity on his cock.

“Love, if you can’t find a way to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet, I can certainly think of one,” Sebastian hisses.

“Please,” you whimper, expecting him to place a hand across your mouth and tip your head back so he can continue whispering pure filth in your ear.

But instead, he pulls out of you and grabs you by the hips to turn you around.

“On your knees,” he says softly. “Finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

Merlin’s beard.

You quickly drop to your knees on the wet tile and place your hands against Sebastian’s thighs. He’s so solid and warm here, even with the water still pouring over you both.

He holds his cock steady for you with one hand and with the other he tips your chin up so he can meet your gaze and whisper, “Tell me if it’s too much and we’ll stop, alright?”

Eagerly you nod and let your mouth fall open for him. He curses softly while he guides the tip of his cock inside your mouth, letting you briefly suck on the sensitive head before he starts to press in deeper. Your eyes drift shut while you take him and you concentrate on relaxing your throat so he can properly claim your mouth how he likes, until your nose brushes against the lowest part of his pelvis.

“Merlin, you’re so good at this,” he breathes. “Go on, love, show me how much you love to taste me.”

He’s a rotten scoundrel for saying it out loud, but you do love this. Sebastian tells you that most times he would prefer to be inside your body rather than your mouth if given the choice – he insists it’s too decadent, too self-serving. But that’s precisely why you enjoy it, you tell him; you get to simply pleasure him, and it feels entirely apt that you should do so after such a heroic win for your house.

On top of that, you’re quite taken with his cock.

The warm water of the shower has washed away all the sweat, dirt and grass that had clung to him even after he’d stripped off his uniform. Now he just tastes of slightly-salty skin and the bittersweet taste of the precum he’s leaking onto your tongue, and you're addicted to the way your lips have to stretch around him to accommodate his size.

You moan around the length of him in your mouth and his hips twitch eagerly.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Keep going.”

You slide your hands up the length of his thighs to his hips and pull him closer, coaxing him into rocking his hips toward your face. The whine you make around him is pitiful and needy.

“You want me to use this mouth, darling?” he asks you knowingly. “I’ve got to do everything myself, have I?”

You have to ask yourself, why is it that he’s maddeningly irresistible when he’s being an utter prick?

Sebastian laughs softly to himself, well aware that if you weren’t in the middle of sucking his cock you’d be rolling your eyes at him. He gently cups your face b your jaw and drags his thumbs along your cheeks. He’s done this with you before, but he’s always insistent on being exceptionally careful with you, reverently mindful of your trust in him.

Then he starts to carefully fuck your mouth, holding you still while he rocks his hips in and out. He takes his time to let you breathe between lazy thrusts and murmurs soft words of encouragement every time you swallow around him.

“Such a lovely mouth,” he sighs. “You’re going to swallow every drop I give you, aren’t you love?”

Yes, you wish you could say. Yes, Bash, all of it.

His pace quickens when he’s getting close, shifting away from those deep grinds that invade the back of your throat to more shallow thrusts that have him dragging the most sensitive part of him across your tongue over and over again. Your eyes are still shut but you can easily picture what he looks like: flushed red down to his chest, drops of water clinging to his shoulders, his wet curls hastily brushed off his forehead so he can see you on your knees for him.

“Open,” he gasps, and when he hastily pulls out, you open your mouth for him with just a tease of your tongue sticking out. Placing one hand on the wall behind you to support himself, his other wraps around his cock and swiftly strokes himself until he’s spilling onto your tongue, your bottom lip, even your chin.

You’re a mess: flushed, dazed and covered in Sebastian’s spend.

“Fuck’s sake,” he gasps. “Quite cheeky of you to look that good the second I finish.”

You smirk up at him and drag your tongue across your bottom lip, collecting some of his mess and sucking it off before swallowing what you’d caught in your mouth. His softening cock twitches weakly and he groans like he knows it would hurt, but he’d happily stuff himself back inside your mouth for as long as you’d let him right this very minute.

“Do you think we should properly shower now?” you ask softly. “So we can go to the party?”

“Forget the party,” Sebastian counters. “How about you and I go up to the Room and have our own little celebration?”

“You’re such a rake, Sebastian,” you sigh, accepting the hand he offers to stand up off the tile floor. “You just had me and you’re willing to put off celebrating with all your friends, your sister, and all the Butterbeer you can drink just to have me again?”

“...Yes?” he answers, as if confused why you’re even asking.

You just scoff and shove him under the running water, giggling delightedly when he sputters and whines at how the water plasters his hair to his forehead. You sweetly brush it back for him and give him a kiss to soothe his pride, letting him taste what remains of himself on your tongue.

When you do finally get redressed and join the party, Ominis makes a face like he knows exactly what the two of you were up to.

“You know,” he murmurs as you claim a spot on the wall next to him. “I heard Andrew Larson telling some of the other Ravenclaws that he heard Sebastian Sallow in the showers after the match – and that he thought he wasn’t in there alone.”

“W-what?” you stutter.

“I don’t suppose he had any company?” he asks casually. “I noticed you too were quite late to the party.”

“No,” you lie. “N-no, I just – went to the Room of Requirement afterward to drop something off.”

Then he deadpans, “Your hair is still wet.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that!” you protest.