There’s something to be said for a quiet evening in, Evan thinks. He glances over his book to make sure Barty is still present in the room, smiling when he finds him sorting through a set of gears as he holds his wand between his teeth, a slight wrinkle of concentration on his brow. 

They’ve been on the go the past few weeks, day in and day out, moving Barty’s things into Evan’s home and collecting anything else he could possibly want to transition into being a kept man. 

Well, that’s how Evan explained it at least. 

He keeps an eye on his prey, observing as someone so bloody smart falls into his trap hour by hour. It makes him a bit cocky and half-hard, just the idea that he finally tamed the Barty Crouch Junior, wizengamot politician’s son and the smartest wix in his era. 

“How’s the project going?” 

Barty spares him but a glance as he grins and takes his wand out of his mouth. The spells he performs are too complicated for Evan to understand, but that’s alright. Barty is smarter, stronger, and wittier than Evan, yet he’d used all that to his advantage to entrap him.  

“Well, I bollocksed the welding spell on the first try, so considering I’m on my second go and nothing has gone wrong yet, I’d say net-zero. Might need to run out and grab a few fiddly bits tomorrow, though.” 

Evan just hums. 

“We can go whenever you’d like.” 

“I can go on my own,” Barty responds casually, sticking his wand back between his teeth. 

Evan tries to keep the wave of indignation at bay… but it’s been weeks now without any conflict and a part of him is itching for a fight. What part, he’s not sure. He wanted Barty here, trapped but happy, yet something inside of him likes when he can take someone in hand. Besides, he can’t wait to see the look on Barty’s face when he realizes he’s been had. 

“I’m not letting you do that.” 

“I know,” Barty huffs, wand still in his mouth. 

Evan’s head moves back an inch, startled by the declaration and how sure he is. 

“You know? What do you think you know?”

Barty spits out his wand and looks him dead in the eye, “The wards don’t respond to my magic, you’ve got Gringotts-level security magic up, and you haven’t let me out of your sight in ages, glaring at any bloke or bird who glances my way. Not that I care, mind, s’long as you keep up your end of the deal.” 

“My end of the deal?” Evan balks, abandoning his book to the side and withdrawing his wand. 

“Yeah, calm your tits. I stay here, be your little pet, don’t work and don’t run too far, and you get to fuck me good and proper all the while caging me in like a potions experiment. M’not sure yet what you get out of it besides control over me and the best arse this side of the pond, but s’not so bad an arrangement, if you think about it.” 

Evan’s hand grips his wand as if to snap it in half. Maybe he should do that to Barty’s. Would that increase the edge? Does he even want that? Or is the knowing better? 

“And if I never let you leave again? Take your wand, put you in nothing but a warming charm for me to stare at every day, then what? Would you be so complicit then?” 

Barty chuckles, crawls around the table he was working at and slides Evan’s knees open. He’s so hard it’s becoming uncomfortable, and the space his thighs create makes him moan. 

“Remember, baby, if I can be stuck with you, that makes you just as much stuck with me too,” and he vanishes everything Evan is wearing with a wave of his hand, a powerful exhibit of magic which doesn’t help the situation in his trousers.

Maybe Evan underestimated him, or maybe… this is exactly what he needed. A hot mouth attaches to him, and he brutally grabs onto Barty’s hair, refusing to let go no matter what. He can work with this, he thinks, this mutual torture.