#slowtober

You and your watercolor eyes straight out of a painting. You and your sweetness, handing out smiles to everyone at every turn, harvesting the same in exchange. The goddamn spring of his winter. Oh, how he was fancying you. He hated it, though, being so easily troubled by you. Relying on someone is taking the risk of getting betrayed. Getting attached is not a good thing. That's what he had learned, this mantra burned into the convolutions of his brain. These two contradictory realities existed within him at every moment, incompatible and hostile, ice and fire.

And living with this literal antithesis wasn't easy. Especially not after he had heard you.

It was on a summer night. You had let every window of your house open, probably because of the heat. He just wanted to give back the awesome CD you had lent to him a few weeks before. Because of course, on top of everything else, you had to have perfect taste in everything. He hadn't planned on getting struck by your smothered little cries. Just before knocking, feet glued to the ground, he had frozen on your doorstep, at first unsure of what he was hearing. But it was unmistakable, the way your voice was ragged, jerky, emitting those high-pitched little moans at regular intervals. Every each of them had made a beeline to his crotch, as he enjoyed this forbidden melody. Were you alone? Was there someone with you? He didn't know what to think about it; all he knew was that he wanted to hear you whimper like this forever.

It's only after a particularly loud crescendo that the silence fell on your house again, followed by a muted ruffle inside.

He had been quick to walk away.

It's now September. The leaves, just like the temperatures, have fallen precipitously. Yet time seems to slow down. The pace of life became more tranquil, harvests became scarcer, and so were infecteds. As the days grow shorter, they feel less intense. Yet another paradox.

This pace does not help Joel, who is still desperately craving action. He could have killed for any semblance of a situation to manage, signing up for every patrol he could. And yet, it is never enough. No matter how exhausting his activities during the day, they do nothing to quell the wild imaginings that fill his mind once night falls.

Just like right now, during one of those evenings. He has tried to read one of his books about space to please Ellie. Two hours have already passed after he had put down his glasses and turned off his bedside lamp. Nothing works. Sleep won't come. Sleep never comes. He always has to go out to it and drag it back to him like a stubborn enemy.

But this time, it is you who comes to him.

The memory of that day he had caught you suddenly fills his mind. Without even thinking about it, the sweet melody imposes itself like a nice song someone would play in the back of his mind. He doesn't even know how he managed to keep himself from jerking off thinking about you before. It feels irresistible.

There is no long moment of hesitation, no internal monologue of his morals to fight his impulses. The promise of a good rush and a peaceful night is way too tempting. Only sleeping with a boxer on, he pulls it down carelessly, getting out his member already gorged. It's a familiar and well-known gesture, one he had performed so many times in his life, and yet it seems entirely new in this particular context. After this hiatus of several years, during which all notions of dreams, fantasies, and even hope had left him, even this simple gesture feels so distant.

He takes his cock in his right hand and instantly begins to rub it. It's quick, it's efficient, it's like every aspect of his life. He doesn't want to wait and build suspense —screw that. He lets your cries fill his head, whispering in his ears. His dick twitches as he does. Jesus, what he could have done to be the one responsible for them. His fist his moving up and down his hard length, the veins on his biceps getting more visible, pumping his blood like his hand is pumping his pleasure. And he sees you, he can see it; your naked body, the way your breasts would prickle in the fresh air of those fall mornings, even curled up under the blanket next to him. The way the golden lights from outside would wrap around your curves, how it would light up your gaze when your eyes opened as you said “hello” to him.

The sheets would slowly slide with the movements of your body as you slipped underneath them. Your head would hover over his crotch, knowing it would make him mad with desire. One of your hands, so different and tiny, would grab his base, and then finally. Heaven, your lips, welcoming him in the velvet of your mouth, his cock plunges in a hot and mellow heaven that could bring down even the greatest tyrants.

Oh, you would suck him just like he dreams to be, just like he needs to. Deep and fast, engulfing him entirely in a banquet worthy of Dionysus. And you would praise him, oh, you would praise him so good.

"It's so big." You'd babble between two dives. "You're doing so good for me, honey."

His dicks fucks his fist fast, his bed cracking slightly, but he doesn't care. He can't stop living this daydream now, those images of you glued to his eyes as if they had been painted with stencils directly onto his retina.

Your throat would feel so good around him. And you would know just how to drive his appetite: by teasing it. You'd suck hard, two or three more times, before removing your divine mouth from him completely. He sighs in frustration, even though in reality, he's doing all that to himself. You'd look up to cross his gaze, a slightly cocky grin on your face, before finishing your duty with both of your hands.

"You gonna come for me, Joel?"

He groans, unable to keep quiet. The repercussions of all this stupidity and how ridiculous it was would hit him later, once he had come —for now, he wanted only one thing, to continue.

"Fuck yes, darlin'." His jaw is tight as he groans out the words. A single drop of sweat leaks on his forehead, its silvery reflection in the night contrasting with the dark tone of his short hair.

"Then say you're mine."

"I'm-" His cockhead is starting to get too sensitive, his calloused hand attacking it repeatedly and making him moan in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. "I'm yours." His words are blurted through his tight jaws, beard barely muffling their vulgarity.

"Thaaat's it, let it go now."

It doesn't come straight away. Something in him is still fighting against it, still convinced he shouldn't be allowed to do that, still holding on. His body is tensed, hard like a statue, his senses completely on alert. He forces himself to focus back on you. On those perfect little noises he had heard. It's a conscious and difficult exercise, like concentrating for a particularly tough test. He pushes away all the horrors that wait hidden in the dark. He focuses, focuses, focuses. On the way your skin would feel wrapped around him. On the feeling that would spread in his chest if your eyes were really looking back at him like he fantasizes they would. On the sensations of your hands jerking him so fast he would have come instantly before the Fall, when he was still a normal guy.

"I can't, I…"

"It's okay. You can do it, honey. Nothing is coming to get you. There's just us."

His throat closes up in an almost panicked gasp as he feels his cock fill up, on the verge of exploding.

"Just us, Joel."

His guts seem to be spilling out the equivalent of ten years of anxiety as his spend finally spurts violently from his abused cockhead. Out of the ocean, his breath finally relaxes, lungs as empty as his balls. And fuck it, it feels so good. And he had missed it. That slow descent after a climax, his heart beating from ecstasy and adrenaline, but for pleasure and not danger. It feels… right.

It feels right.

After a few minutes of distilled silence, savor it like a delicious nectar, he finally gets up and cleans himself with some dirty clothes of his lying around. He can't believe this has just happened. He takes an anxious peek at his clock, 3 a.m. Exhausted, he lies back on his bed and finally closes his eyes.

For once, sleep has been brought to him by something else, not his own struggles. His breath calming gradually, he slowly drifts, his thoughts merging and mingling in this incoherent, blissful state of letting-go peculiar for falling asleep after hours of agitation.

A last notion crosses his mind as his body mellows like the marshmallow in a s'more pressed between two chocolate-covered cookies: crossing your eyes after that won't be an easy task, even for the pinnacle of stoicism that he is.

Silence falls in his room.

There was nothing more than the light patter of raindrops from a passing autumn shower outside.

Perhaps, just like the trees dropping their leaves in golden hues after carrying them for months, letting go wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"Did it work?" Seungmin pouts staring at the potion in front of him.

The mixture's liquid looks decent, the forms of the steam above it looks like the kind of description their teacher made during class earlier, but something is off. He looks back to the recipe, knowing very well he has not missed a step because he is always very diligent with his work and also because Hyunjin was checking after him, but still. He checks.

"I think it did," Hyunjin answers after getting close to the potion. His cheeks coloured in pink. Seungmin does not notice.

"You think or you're sure? Those are two different things." 

Seungmin smells the potion. This is what is wrong with it. It smells nothing. And the smell is surely the most important thing about this potion. It has to smell like things the person smelling loves. Seungmin expected to smell old books, something homey, maybe that pie Hogwarts serves during Halloween. But all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume because the latter is so close to him right now, hovering over his shoulder. And to be honest they've spent so much time together lately, Seungmin feels like the perfume has penetrated his own skin.

One thing to know about Seungmin is that he hates not understanding. He will ask questions, make the researches, works the extra time if he has to. But he will get it. Whatever it might be. Usually it is school works, because ever since he has entered Hogwarts it had been his priority (obsession some might said). In exchange he keeps on being the best student, one of them at least, except in potions. Which makes no sense because potions surely is one of the most rational subject they have. Follow the instructions. Choose the right ingredients. Dont miss a step. And follow again the instructions.

The things Seungmin should be the best at! Not that he does not succeed. He just does not succeed enough. And Seungmin really wants to be a healer at St Mungo, he does not need to be good at potions. He needs to be excellent.

Except he is not and apparently books could only tell as much as they can - the disappointment he had felt upon noticing that is still indescribable - so he had gone to the only option left. Ask for help. Slytherin this year were no exception to the unspoken rule of them being the best in potions, in the person of Hwang Hyunjin who was mostly knows for his quidditch skills (Seungmin had had many opportunities to admire... notice those skills through the years).

Another thing about Seungmin is that he definitely lacks people skills, and because Ravenclaw do not share their potion class with Slytherin, he had no reason to ask Hyunjin for help. He knew from other shared times that Hyunjin is a very nice and approachable person, only has the looks of the mean cliché Slytherin but he's heard one day one of his friends telling him he could have been sorted at Hufflepuff and he agrees. Because when Seungmin suddenly showed up and ask for help to that boy he has barely talked to all their years, the boy smiled and said of course.

All that happened last year. When they were studying for their O.W.L.S and Seungmin wanted to make sure he got a O. And he got it because Hyunjin was a very good teacher, very patient, nice and funny. Even if he would often stumble on his words, somehow always made his point very clear. Plus he knew Hyunjin made space for him in his schedule which was already busy with quidditch practices, so for that Seungmin was grateful.

By the end of the year Seungmin knew he had made a friend. Which had not been the case since his first year. This plus the O.W.L.s results, his fifth year was a success. He really thought it would be the end of their lessons but it was Hyunjin who came back to him and asked him if he wanted to continue. He said yes because he genuinely enjoyed it and, if he was being honest with himself, he was scared he would have no reason to hang out with Hyunjin if not. And he really liked hanging out with Hyunjin.

This is how they ended up making amortentia from scratch on a Tuesday evening, because Seugmin completely failed making the mixture during his class in the morning.

"I'm sure it worked," Hyunjin insists, "everything seems fine."

"I cant smell anything," Seungmin tells him.

Hyunjin frowns, "get closer."

Seungmin does so, even if it is useless. He takes a deep breath it but once again all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume. Floral, probably with lavender undertones, and a bit overwhelming at first but comforting. He shakes his head.

"Do you smell anything?" He asks his surrogate teacher.

This time he does notice the blush on Hyunjin's face.

"I do," he mutters.

Seungmin's never been a really into gossiping, he hates personal question about himself so he does not pry.

"Well, that does not make any sense," he mumbles almost to himself, "go away for a bit, please."

"What?" Hyunjin chokes up.

"I didnt mean it like that... just can you go to the other side of the room so I can focus."

If the request is odd to Hyunjin he does not protest it and do as told. Seungmin stares at the pretty forms the steam makes above the pearly mixture for a moment, deep into focusing on his senses. He closes his eyes to make sure of it. Hyunjin is not in his personal space anymore so there is no reason for his perfume to linger that much, at least he hopes so. He gets closer and closer to the potion but his nose only picks up the same scent over and over. When he opens his eyes back he is frustrated and it probably shows.

"What's going on?" Hyunjin asks him, worry in his voice tone.

"Its just all I can smell is your perfume and I dont get..."

He stops his sentence when he sees the look on Hyunjin's face, the way his blush expanded and his eyes were round. There is a moment of silence during which Seungmin is not really sure what switches in the air what kind of tension gets itself comfortable between them, nor why does it mean. Things in their relationship have always been very easy, even with Seungmin struggling in social interactions, even during the very first lesson Hyunjin had easily broken the glass between them and made Seungmin very comfortable. There is no overthinking when he is with him. It is so relaxing, so freeing.

"Seungmin," Hyunjin eventually says and it is obvious he is trying to suppress a smile on his lips, "you're the smartest person I know... but..."

Seungmin opens his mouth to protest whatever is coming after the "but".

Hyunjin shakes his head and comes back to his previous place, close, very close to Seungmin. It shuts him up because suddenly everything is different.

He sees the look in Hyunjin's eyes, the way their hands could brush against each other if they decided to, and Seungmin is paralyzed.

"I think the potion works very well because I can smell the scent of old books in the library and sugar quills."

This time Seungmin feels himself blushing. Hyunjin always buys for him sugar quills if he goes to honeydukes without him, because Seungmin likes them so much. They are basically just sugar but the way they taste and feel are very calming somehow. He has never really thought a lot about Hyunjin's actions, just categorized him as the nice kind of persons who care a lot about everything and remember little stuff. He never thought it was something special. Just something endearing about Hyunjin like so many things.

"Uh.." he clears his throat. He never is at loss of words, he knows so many words!

Hyunjin smirks and Seungmin tries to look away but Hyunjin is too close and he is everywhere in his personal space and field of vision. It is overwhelming but he does not not like it. He just does not know how to respond to it. And he is still not sure he understands it. While Hyunjin seems to understand everything. That is embarrassing.

"I really thought I was obvious and that you were acting like it was nothing because you were being polite and you didnt want to embarrass me..."

Hyunjin is slightly taller than him, he has noticed, just a few centimeters really nothing in their day to day life but right now as Hyunjin very carefully moves his head closer to Seungmin's, he feels so tiny.

"But you were just very oblivious !" Hyunjin concludes with a smile, "because you are so smart, I never thought it could be that."

"Book smart and emotions smart are different things," he breathes out.

Hyunjin laughs and it makes Seungmin's heart race. He always seems to manage to make Hyunjin laughs so brightly like that, when he has never been known to be a particularly funny person.

"That's right," Hyunjin tells him, "so I'm going to ask you then. Seungmin, do you, perhaps, like me more than just a friend?"

Seungmin knows very well that his entire face is red by now, "I never.. thought about it," he confesses.

Hyunjin smiles very gently, "I did. I actually thought about it so much I lost sleep over it because all I could think about was you and how much I like you."

Seungmin's ears are ringing and he can only hear the loud beating of his own heart, "you did..."

Hyunjin once again looks at him with those doe beautiful gentle eyes and smiles softly and Seungmin feels like he is both melting and burning.

"This might be a bit overwhelming, so..." Hyunjin says and his voice is a little less confident than before, "maybe you can think about it and I can take you out on a date this Saturday at hogsmeade... and if you dont like me then I'll never bother you again with my feelings."

"That's.... thats a very good idea."