(no subject)
Title: Fifty Galleons
Pairing: Lucius/Hugo/Albus
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4496
Summary: Gryffindors have dreams, but it takes a Slytherin to put them into action.
Warnings/Kinks: incest, spanking, voyeurism, wanking. vaguely dub-con, depending on how it's read. Fudging of canon so Albus and Hugo are the same age. Changing POV.
AN: originally written for hp_cross_fest
I know when I walk into the kitchen that it's a bad time, I'm not stupid. The problem is, it's the only time I have left. The tournament is on the weekend, and I need a bit of support with it. After explaining the deal to mum and dad, dad agrees to give me the money I need. Mum, though...
"I'm only going to finance your ridiculous hobby if you take up a charity as well, Hugo." I've got a bad feeling, but I really need the new gear.
"What's that, mum?"
"We'll pay for your equipment if you donate fifty galleons to SPEW by the end of the year." My head swings to dad, hoping he'll step in. Mum's gone bloody barmy! My gear's only half that. The coward doesn't say anything of course, he never stands up to mum.
"My gear's only half that!" I say, even though I know it's futile.
"Hugo Weasley, it won't hurt you to raise money for a charity. In fact, if you don't then I'm afraid there won't be any travelling to Koppargerg for the annual broom race next summer." That vicious bitch! Of course I know better than to slag my mother out loud, but my hands are clenched and I'm sure fury is radiating off me. She's got to know how much I hate her.
"I've got to go in to work now. Your father will take you to Gringotts."
The moment she apparates away I turn desperately to him. When he isn't under her influence, dad's a pretty good bloke. Surely he'll see reason. "So, dad-"
"I'm not giving you fifty galleons."
"But!"
"It's not that I agree with your mother about charity. Or some charities, but definitely not SPEW. There's no sense in it, everyone but your mother knows it. I just can't."
It's him being a coward again. "Why bloody not?"
"Because she'll ask me if I did and your mother is frighteningly good at reading lies. I'm not getting into shit because you spent all your dosh on sweets. It's not as though you have to go door to door. Just ask a few of your friends for money. Make a few bets you know you can win."
My mind goes first to Uncle George, he'll have suggestions about betting. The first load of money he and his twin had gotten was because they'd bet on Quidditch, or at least it would have been had Ludo Bagman not been a cheating bastard. Once he tells me how to go about it, I'll conscript the one person I know will always help me.
*
My cousin Hugo owns me, and he knows it, the prat. It's not like I've got stories about us sleeping in the same playpen or being washed in the same tub, cementing us from birth. Between James, me, Lils, Rose and Hugo there was a lot of interaction, and of course we've got the other cousins too. Seemingly every Weasley decided to pop out children at approximately the same time. There's nothing to pinpoint why I like him most.
Me and Hugo, we've always been best mates. I've always thought he'd be a bit better off in Hufflepuff, but after I got sorted to Gryffindor he argued with the sorting hat for over a minute before it acquiesced and put him with me. And hell, maybe I'm the Hufflepuff, I'm just as loyal to him as he is to me.
The only problem with being best mates is the theory of friends with benefits. Most of the blokes I know have someone to fool around with, with whom it means nothing but mutual pleasure.
So he asks me for a favour, and I groan because he knows and I know that no matter what it is, I'm doing it. But as it turns out, all he wants is a way to make money. Apparently a week ago he asked Uncle George for a strategy, and Aunt Hermione ended up finding out, and now he's in shit if he can't find someone to actually donate money as compared to winning it. I think for a few minutes and come up with a name or two, and he smiles with relief and it makes me smile too. Then we go out and toss a quaffle around a bit, because how stupid would it be to just sit around smiling at each other all afternoon?
*
Our dads had it lucky. Sure they had all sorts of war and trauma around them, but I'd rather be them then us any day.
Albus and I, we're quite a lot like our fathers. We look like them, Albus with utterly uncombable hair and a small physique, me with the freckles and height of a Quidditch goal. We've got the same basic personalities, loyal to each other until the end, though we fight on occasion, smart and brave. We're both Gryffindors, we're both Quidditch players like they were.
The only difference is our dads could shag when they were teens because they're not related, and as sexy as Albus is, we're cousins. And that's not on. So yeah, I'd fight a Death Eater or two, if it meant I could shag my very own version of Harry Potter.
*
Albus is brushing his teeth in the bathroom whilst James is having a shower. James always showers in the morning, and the screech of the water tank against his bedroom wall wakes Albus up each morning. The floor is chilly against his bare feet, and he curses Lily for taking his slippers once again.
The glass door opens and steam billows out, fogging the mirror and making the room warm and damp. The floor creaks as he steps out of the shower, after years of routine Albus expects James to grab a towel from the rack, wrap it around his waist, then shimmy past him as he exits the room. But there's no towel, no shimmying, only the clatter of the toothbrush being dropped into the sink as Albus' grip loosens in shock.
It's not James, it's Hugo, and it shouldn't bother him that there's no towel, he's been training himself for years to not notice this sort of thing. But he can't help it, can't stop himself from reacting as Hugo presses wet and hot against his bare back, water droplets falling to his shoulders when Hugo nestles his head into Albus' neck. He only gets harder when Hugo's thumbs curl underneath the elastic of his pyjamas and pull down in one smooth motion.
"I know how bad you want this," Hugo whispers into his ear, hands squeezing Albus' arse. "You're so fucking bad, wanting this."
And that's when Hugo starts hitting Albus; massive, Hagrid sized hand smacking his arse again and again as Albus tries not to scream and attract the attention of his family. It quickly turns from shocking and arousing to painful, but his erection doesn't flag-
And that's when I wake up, sheets wet. I curse my dreams, evil for how wonderful they are, and reach for my wand. The spell hardly has to be said, silent magic always works best with familiar spells and I've had dreams like this often enough. Sodding hell, life is difficult enough without dealing with this.
*
Albus' idea is to talk to Scorpius, and I punch him in the arm because he makes me feel stupid for not figuring that out myself. He punches me back, and then I dictate a letter to him to send to Scorpius, nearly all of which he ignores and does his own wording. It's how we hash out essays during the school year, just talking about the subject and plagiarizing each other. Even for the classes we don't take together, Muggle Studies for him, Ancient Runes for me, it's easier to write about a topic once we've discussed it.
A few hours later Scorpius is coming through the floo, and even though he's got the money to get me out of my troubles, he refuses, the bastard. 'Saving up to buy a broomstick' my arse, all of the regular allowance he's got goes down his throat, the addicted git.
"I've got a suggestion."
"Yes? Enlighten me, you poxy bastard."
"He didn't mean that!" Albus blurts. I'm about to say that I actually, really did, with a nod of my head for emphasis when he kicks me in the ribcage. It's easier done than one would think due to the way we're splayed on the bed. I guess he thinks that namecalling is immature or something.
"Go to the source!" Really? That's his suggestion? Today's must be a befuddlement brew, because Scorpius' way of getting his potions has less than nothing to do with me getting cash. Unless that bastard actually thinks I'm going to deal for him. From how stiff Albus is against my side, he obviously thinks that Scorpius' has gone mad too.
"We're not cooking for you, if that's what you suggest." Albus' voice is cold, I love it when he gets up the balls to bitch about a situation.
"No, you gits. The source of my money. My dad. Go beg some off from my dad. Say you're cleaning for money."
"Your father will not give the sons of his two enemies money."
"He would if it gets him an article in one of those rubbish magazines. It's a win-win situation. The charity gets the money whether they need it or not, you still get your summer vacation, my dad gets good press, and your mum's probably embarrassed enough from the thinly veiled sniping in said article that she won't do it to you again."
"He's got a point, Hugh." I think it's a bit silly, but if Albus likes it then I'm for it.
*
Upon arrival into the Malfoy manor, my stomach drops. Not just because I've inherited my dad's inability to travel but because I sense something very wrong. Scorpius said he'd be home, but that's very easily changed by him not having a vial of whatever it is he's craving and going out looking for it. He's supposed to bridge the gap between us and Mr Malfoy, but there's no one in the room.
The Malfoy floo must have a spell tied in it, a few moments after Hugo steps in behind me a house elf pops into the room. I want to laugh at the irony, but I think Hugo would kill me so I don't say a word.
"You're to follow me." The elf says in as much of a demand as a House Elf can make to a human. I shrug and Hugo stomps behind me down a long hall until the elf nods his head and pops away. I make Hugo open the door, it's only fair as this is his money drive, not mine. If the prat had let me know he would need new equipment I would have saved a few sickles here and there over the school year to contribute, and stolen the same from Lily and Scorpius.
Neither of us are pathetic enough to be close mates with an addict, but we know what his father looks like. Even if we didn't know Scorpius, we'd probably know his father anyway. Draco Malfoy is thin, short like my dad, and balding. This blonde is far more tall, with hair cascading halfway down his back. If that isn't obvious enough, he has a cane.
"I understand you're selling your services."
"Er, yes." Hugo says.
"How much would it cost me to see you two fuck?" My mouth goes dry and I can't even think of answering. I know Hugo must be as stunned as I am.
Finally it's Hugo that's able to scrape up his wits. "No sir, you misunderstand. We're doing cleaning for cash."
"And how much for a sexual component to said cleaning?" I'm considering suggesting double. It's dirty and wrong, that just goes without saying. But if we get the money Aunt Hermione backs off, and we've got some spare for future impulse buys at Hogsmeade. Far more important, this offer gives me an excuse to do what I've wanted for at least a few years now. One hundred galleons probably isn't much prostitute oneself for, but since it's what I want it's not fair to charge too much more. I'm still working my justification of it when Hugo says triple. He's always been the more enterprising one.
*
Lucius' first instruction is to wash the dishes in the nude. If it's meant to unsettle us, it doesn't work, I'm not phased by nudity. I'm on a Quidditch team with a bunch of teenage boys, I've got siblings and cousins that don't bother to be invited before apparation, I don't bother myself. Nudity is just a fact of life for me.
If it's meant to arouse us, it still doesn't work. Like I said, I've grown up seeing Albus and James and even Lily and Rose naked. The moment Albus started exciting me was the moment I learnt how to separate my brain from my cock. I might have been the one to suggest price, but Albus didn't say no, and I'd be willing to bet that he has the same ability.
If it's meant to arouse him, it's impossible to say if it's working. Lucius is sitting in the corner of the room on one of the dark wooden chairs, leg casually folded over one knee. He's as calm as Aunt Audrey, or at least acts it well. The way the robe sits makes it impossible to tell if he's hard. I rather hope he is. If we're a show then we should at least be interesting.
The longer I scrub the long handled brush over the china the more it bothers me. Weasleys are not a patient lot, and finally I turn and walk across the room, Albus staring at me like I've grown another head. My hand tangles in his long hair as I attempt to snog and grope him both. Within seconds he shoves me away and says something about impertinence, but I don't really care. I've got my answer, he's hard.
*
When Lucius first suggests Hugo clean the carpets I snigger a bit. I can't help it, I know how much he'll hate the job. On some advice from Uncle George a few Christmases ago, Hugo had tried to decorate with Edible Baubles. They'd been prototypes, and Uncle George had forgotten to mention that they had the nasty habit of melting if left hanging in the air too long. His mum had made him scrub every carpet by hand, even though she knew a charm for it.
His glare tells me he knows exactly why I'm laughing, and after we're done here he'll get me back. I'm not too concerned, Hugo's more likely to give me a few good punches then help me heal them. It's not like I'm pissing off Freddie, the mad git.
Unfortunately for me, he doesn't have to wait to get his revenge. Lucius hangs the rug in the air with some charm I don't know, and gives Hugo a oddly shaped paddle to beat the dust out. Then he drags me by the arm and uses the Shackles of Air charm dad uses at work to freeze my arms in the air beside the rug.
"One for the rug, one for Albus."
"What?"
"What?" we say, almost in unison. My voice has more horror though, because I've never actually told Hugo I have a thing for spanking, and the last thing I need is to come after two smacks.
"You heard my request, one I am paying a good deal of money for. Unless you no longer need your fee. Do you renege on the deal?"
I can't quite tell Hugo, it seems like crossing a line, not that I haven't done that hundreds of times, every time I fantasize about him. But I mutter "It's alright, you can," and I know he knows.
*
My hands ache from clutching the paddle, and kneeling with half my weight on my palms isn't helping. Of course, I'm definitely less sore than Albus is right now, the last I saw his arse was bright red. If he doesn't let me heal it, he's not going to be able to sit down. I've got this funny feeling though, that he won't want me to. I think I've stumbled on one of his kinks by pure chance.
It doesn't worry me too much, because he's literally in the position to get one of mine. The parody of cleaning is washing the floor, and I've got a bucket of soapy water in front of me. I'm ignoring it utterly though, I've got better things to focus on. Mainly Albus kneeling behind me, with his fingers holding my cheeks apart.
It's not so much about how hot it is, though there's no denying that. Albus blowing warm air over my hole makes my entire body shake. It's that rimming seems like so much more an intimate act than sucking or fucking. To be willing to put your mouth on someone's arsehole, you have to actually care about their pleasure. For Albus to be doing this, it makes it seem like it's more then some freak mistake, that he really might want to do this again.
The idea of repeat occurrences, just as much as the actual feeling of a tongue in my arse is what has me gripping my cock with the hand that's not holding my body up. If you can't one-up your best mates then who can you beat, I've always said, a bit of Slytherin ambition coming into play at times, and considering Albus lost all control while his needs were being met, It'll be a matter of pride to not come whilst he's rimming me.
*
Stubborn bastard, he's shaking like he's overdosed on Fizzing Whizzbees. The only reason he's not coming is because he thinks it somehow makes him better than me. It's stupid, how can denying yourself be a good thing? And it's not like I'm not already hard again. The ability to be constantly hard used to be aggravating, now I'm seeing the potential. Still, if he's turned it into a competition, then I'm not going to let him win. Now my goal is to make Hugo come, which was my goal before too, but now I hope it irritates him.
At this point it's easy to figure out that rimming him isn't going to be enough. It's obvious he likes it, he keeps clenching down like he's trying to rip my tongue out of my mouth, but if he's held on this long it's not going to push him over the edge.
I don't have any lube, but he's wet and open enough that when I pull my tongue out I can slip two fingers in. I almost laugh at how shocked Hugo is, he stiffens and arches his neck to look at me. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Scrub, Mr Weasley" comes the order in a clipped voice. Hugo takes the rag from the water and swipes it across the floor once before I start moving my fingers. The moment I start, the cleaning is abandoned.
I don't hear Lucius say anything, but as I squeeze a third finger beside the other two, hoping that it's not going to hurt him, my cock gets wet. I look down, my prick is covered in glistening lubrication, bluish tinge meaning I've passed the STD checking charm. I call out a thanks and line myself up behind Hugo.
The way he grips my cock is amazing, it's better than ten hands wanking me at once. I'll never be able to wank again without remembering this feeling. "Hugo, fuck, it's" I don't know how to explain it, there aren't words for this, "can I start?" moving, please, I need to move and feel all of you, but I won't start until he says okay because I know it hurts some people, and some people don't like to hurt. I could probably handle it, hard purpling cock in my red bruised arse, but I don't know if Hugo can and I refuse to hurt him.
He leans forward until only the head of my cock is inside him, then moves back again so I'm fully sheathed, and I nearly faint for how brilliant it is. I start thrusting, erratic and probably too fast, and part of me knows that I'm probably a bad lover, but Hugo doesn't seem to mind. He collapses to his elbows and leans on one forearm so his other hand is free to close around his cock.
It's easy to forget that we're in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor, my mind is entirely consumed by the sensations of fucking someone I've lusted for for over three years. Then the floor creaks and though I don't take my eyes off Hugo's sweaty back I can see dragonhide boots crossing the kitchen in my peripheral vision.
A minute later Hugo stops pressing back to meet my thrusting. I look up and Lucius is kneeling in front of him, robes in disarray. Hugo's head is bobbing, Lucius' fingers tight in his red shaggy hair, directing his motion. I've never seen someone giving a blowjob before, and to be honest there's not actually much to see from my position. But it's still ridiculously sexy, knowing that Hugo is being used by more than one person at a time.
*
I knew the moment he suggested we shag that he'd want in on the experience. I wasn't sure which one of us he wanted, or if it was both, but I knew we wouldn't get out of Malfoy Manor without Lucius Malfoy getting his own. I made the snap decision that it would be worth it, and Gryffindors Never Regret.
So we start to shag and I know it'll only be minutes until he makes his move. Most of me is centred around how good it feels to be fucked, brain shut off except for the bit that reminds my body to keep thrusting back. But part of me is able to calculate the odds, fifty percent chance Malfoy will fuck Albus, fifty percent chance I'll have to suck him off. That solved it moves on to the next issue, trying to convince myself that it's no big deal. I don't like the idea of having sex with someone that I hate, it seems ugly.
He kneels in front of me and it's all I can do to not curse, but I know if I did Albus would stop and ask if I was okay. If he stopped we might never have another excuse for doing this, and sucking Malfoy off is the lesser of the two evils. His white fingers slowly unbutton his robe, cock obscenely red as he guides my head to it.
There's less than no choice, so I curl my lips around him and try not to gag as he pushes all the way into my mouth. I keep my eyes closed, if I don't see blonde pubic hair it's easier to forget. Better to revel in the sensations than think of all the ramifications.
Albus comes first. It's warm and dirty and sexy, possibly the best thing I've ever felt. Better than that is the moan he lets out as he's coming, the fingers that spasm on my hips. Better than that is the avalanche it sets off in my body. My right hand stills as my left arm threatens to give out completely. Like when I wank I can't stop trembling as I orgasm, the difference is Albus is still inside me.
He waits until I stop shaking to pull out, then retreats to the kitchen chair his clothes are draped over. There's no sense in getting up, I know Malfoy will make me finish him off. I start working my head up and down again, jaw starting to ache. His fingers tighten in my hair and if I didn't have my mouth occupied I'd shout at him for it. It gets worse as he pulls up, harder and harder until I get the point and slide off.
I hope he doesn't want to fuck me, but I can't tell him he can't. If I do, I won't get the money I owe my mother. His index finger traces my lips before he slips two fingers between them. I start to panic, even wet with Albus' come, spit isn't much of a lubricant. As a third finger joins the first two the panic ratchets up a knot, but the fourth causes a bit of a mental snort. I had his prick in my mouth seconds ago, I know he's not that big.
Instead of relocating his fingers, Malfoy does something completely unexpected. He hooks his fingers into the inside of my cheek and pulls my face closer to his groin, then comes. It splatters over my face, and because his knuckles are forcing my jaw open some lands on my tongue. It's all I can do to not punch him.
*
I watch, frozen in shock as Hugo's ears turn nearly as red as his hair. It's a sign that he's furious, and I can tell he wants to murder Lucius for doing that to him. I close my fingers around the wand in the arse pocket of my jeans. As much as I understand Hugo being angry, the last thing we need is for a Weasley youth to attack the most senior Malfoy.
I'm about to toss him a tea towel when he grabs his shirt from the floor and rubs it across his face. He discards it before putting on his pants and jeans. I haven't got anything to do, so I stand, waiting for him to mention the Galleons. But he doesn't say anything, and as the silence stretches I realise he can't. He's broken, a little.
I walk up to Lucius and hold out my hand. "Money, thanks."
He leaves the room and part of me doesn't trust him in the least, but I don't follow him. I've got a strong feeling that would be getting far in over my head, as if this situation isn't strange enough already. The green bag he hands me is heavy, I untie the ribbon to make sure it's money, but I don't go as far as to count it. Gold in one hand, I curl my fingers into the gaps between Hugo's and we apparate away.
I have no fucking clue how we'll be around each other after this. I hope for repeats, but I expect a hideously awkward conversation followed by utterly avoiding each other for the rest of our lives. I don't really want to think about the future, except for the brilliant moment in which I beat the hell out of Scorpius for doing this to us. Then brew him the potion of his choice, for doing this to us. Being furious with and grateful to someone at the same time is rather confusing.
Pairing: Lucius/Hugo/Albus
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4496
Summary: Gryffindors have dreams, but it takes a Slytherin to put them into action.
Warnings/Kinks: incest, spanking, voyeurism, wanking. vaguely dub-con, depending on how it's read. Fudging of canon so Albus and Hugo are the same age. Changing POV.
AN: originally written for hp_cross_fest
I know when I walk into the kitchen that it's a bad time, I'm not stupid. The problem is, it's the only time I have left. The tournament is on the weekend, and I need a bit of support with it. After explaining the deal to mum and dad, dad agrees to give me the money I need. Mum, though...
"I'm only going to finance your ridiculous hobby if you take up a charity as well, Hugo." I've got a bad feeling, but I really need the new gear.
"What's that, mum?"
"We'll pay for your equipment if you donate fifty galleons to SPEW by the end of the year." My head swings to dad, hoping he'll step in. Mum's gone bloody barmy! My gear's only half that. The coward doesn't say anything of course, he never stands up to mum.
"My gear's only half that!" I say, even though I know it's futile.
"Hugo Weasley, it won't hurt you to raise money for a charity. In fact, if you don't then I'm afraid there won't be any travelling to Koppargerg for the annual broom race next summer." That vicious bitch! Of course I know better than to slag my mother out loud, but my hands are clenched and I'm sure fury is radiating off me. She's got to know how much I hate her.
"I've got to go in to work now. Your father will take you to Gringotts."
The moment she apparates away I turn desperately to him. When he isn't under her influence, dad's a pretty good bloke. Surely he'll see reason. "So, dad-"
"I'm not giving you fifty galleons."
"But!"
"It's not that I agree with your mother about charity. Or some charities, but definitely not SPEW. There's no sense in it, everyone but your mother knows it. I just can't."
It's him being a coward again. "Why bloody not?"
"Because she'll ask me if I did and your mother is frighteningly good at reading lies. I'm not getting into shit because you spent all your dosh on sweets. It's not as though you have to go door to door. Just ask a few of your friends for money. Make a few bets you know you can win."
My mind goes first to Uncle George, he'll have suggestions about betting. The first load of money he and his twin had gotten was because they'd bet on Quidditch, or at least it would have been had Ludo Bagman not been a cheating bastard. Once he tells me how to go about it, I'll conscript the one person I know will always help me.
*
My cousin Hugo owns me, and he knows it, the prat. It's not like I've got stories about us sleeping in the same playpen or being washed in the same tub, cementing us from birth. Between James, me, Lils, Rose and Hugo there was a lot of interaction, and of course we've got the other cousins too. Seemingly every Weasley decided to pop out children at approximately the same time. There's nothing to pinpoint why I like him most.
Me and Hugo, we've always been best mates. I've always thought he'd be a bit better off in Hufflepuff, but after I got sorted to Gryffindor he argued with the sorting hat for over a minute before it acquiesced and put him with me. And hell, maybe I'm the Hufflepuff, I'm just as loyal to him as he is to me.
The only problem with being best mates is the theory of friends with benefits. Most of the blokes I know have someone to fool around with, with whom it means nothing but mutual pleasure.
So he asks me for a favour, and I groan because he knows and I know that no matter what it is, I'm doing it. But as it turns out, all he wants is a way to make money. Apparently a week ago he asked Uncle George for a strategy, and Aunt Hermione ended up finding out, and now he's in shit if he can't find someone to actually donate money as compared to winning it. I think for a few minutes and come up with a name or two, and he smiles with relief and it makes me smile too. Then we go out and toss a quaffle around a bit, because how stupid would it be to just sit around smiling at each other all afternoon?
*
Our dads had it lucky. Sure they had all sorts of war and trauma around them, but I'd rather be them then us any day.
Albus and I, we're quite a lot like our fathers. We look like them, Albus with utterly uncombable hair and a small physique, me with the freckles and height of a Quidditch goal. We've got the same basic personalities, loyal to each other until the end, though we fight on occasion, smart and brave. We're both Gryffindors, we're both Quidditch players like they were.
The only difference is our dads could shag when they were teens because they're not related, and as sexy as Albus is, we're cousins. And that's not on. So yeah, I'd fight a Death Eater or two, if it meant I could shag my very own version of Harry Potter.
*
Albus is brushing his teeth in the bathroom whilst James is having a shower. James always showers in the morning, and the screech of the water tank against his bedroom wall wakes Albus up each morning. The floor is chilly against his bare feet, and he curses Lily for taking his slippers once again.
The glass door opens and steam billows out, fogging the mirror and making the room warm and damp. The floor creaks as he steps out of the shower, after years of routine Albus expects James to grab a towel from the rack, wrap it around his waist, then shimmy past him as he exits the room. But there's no towel, no shimmying, only the clatter of the toothbrush being dropped into the sink as Albus' grip loosens in shock.
It's not James, it's Hugo, and it shouldn't bother him that there's no towel, he's been training himself for years to not notice this sort of thing. But he can't help it, can't stop himself from reacting as Hugo presses wet and hot against his bare back, water droplets falling to his shoulders when Hugo nestles his head into Albus' neck. He only gets harder when Hugo's thumbs curl underneath the elastic of his pyjamas and pull down in one smooth motion.
"I know how bad you want this," Hugo whispers into his ear, hands squeezing Albus' arse. "You're so fucking bad, wanting this."
And that's when Hugo starts hitting Albus; massive, Hagrid sized hand smacking his arse again and again as Albus tries not to scream and attract the attention of his family. It quickly turns from shocking and arousing to painful, but his erection doesn't flag-
And that's when I wake up, sheets wet. I curse my dreams, evil for how wonderful they are, and reach for my wand. The spell hardly has to be said, silent magic always works best with familiar spells and I've had dreams like this often enough. Sodding hell, life is difficult enough without dealing with this.
*
Albus' idea is to talk to Scorpius, and I punch him in the arm because he makes me feel stupid for not figuring that out myself. He punches me back, and then I dictate a letter to him to send to Scorpius, nearly all of which he ignores and does his own wording. It's how we hash out essays during the school year, just talking about the subject and plagiarizing each other. Even for the classes we don't take together, Muggle Studies for him, Ancient Runes for me, it's easier to write about a topic once we've discussed it.
A few hours later Scorpius is coming through the floo, and even though he's got the money to get me out of my troubles, he refuses, the bastard. 'Saving up to buy a broomstick' my arse, all of the regular allowance he's got goes down his throat, the addicted git.
"I've got a suggestion."
"Yes? Enlighten me, you poxy bastard."
"He didn't mean that!" Albus blurts. I'm about to say that I actually, really did, with a nod of my head for emphasis when he kicks me in the ribcage. It's easier done than one would think due to the way we're splayed on the bed. I guess he thinks that namecalling is immature or something.
"Go to the source!" Really? That's his suggestion? Today's must be a befuddlement brew, because Scorpius' way of getting his potions has less than nothing to do with me getting cash. Unless that bastard actually thinks I'm going to deal for him. From how stiff Albus is against my side, he obviously thinks that Scorpius' has gone mad too.
"We're not cooking for you, if that's what you suggest." Albus' voice is cold, I love it when he gets up the balls to bitch about a situation.
"No, you gits. The source of my money. My dad. Go beg some off from my dad. Say you're cleaning for money."
"Your father will not give the sons of his two enemies money."
"He would if it gets him an article in one of those rubbish magazines. It's a win-win situation. The charity gets the money whether they need it or not, you still get your summer vacation, my dad gets good press, and your mum's probably embarrassed enough from the thinly veiled sniping in said article that she won't do it to you again."
"He's got a point, Hugh." I think it's a bit silly, but if Albus likes it then I'm for it.
*
Upon arrival into the Malfoy manor, my stomach drops. Not just because I've inherited my dad's inability to travel but because I sense something very wrong. Scorpius said he'd be home, but that's very easily changed by him not having a vial of whatever it is he's craving and going out looking for it. He's supposed to bridge the gap between us and Mr Malfoy, but there's no one in the room.
The Malfoy floo must have a spell tied in it, a few moments after Hugo steps in behind me a house elf pops into the room. I want to laugh at the irony, but I think Hugo would kill me so I don't say a word.
"You're to follow me." The elf says in as much of a demand as a House Elf can make to a human. I shrug and Hugo stomps behind me down a long hall until the elf nods his head and pops away. I make Hugo open the door, it's only fair as this is his money drive, not mine. If the prat had let me know he would need new equipment I would have saved a few sickles here and there over the school year to contribute, and stolen the same from Lily and Scorpius.
Neither of us are pathetic enough to be close mates with an addict, but we know what his father looks like. Even if we didn't know Scorpius, we'd probably know his father anyway. Draco Malfoy is thin, short like my dad, and balding. This blonde is far more tall, with hair cascading halfway down his back. If that isn't obvious enough, he has a cane.
"I understand you're selling your services."
"Er, yes." Hugo says.
"How much would it cost me to see you two fuck?" My mouth goes dry and I can't even think of answering. I know Hugo must be as stunned as I am.
Finally it's Hugo that's able to scrape up his wits. "No sir, you misunderstand. We're doing cleaning for cash."
"And how much for a sexual component to said cleaning?" I'm considering suggesting double. It's dirty and wrong, that just goes without saying. But if we get the money Aunt Hermione backs off, and we've got some spare for future impulse buys at Hogsmeade. Far more important, this offer gives me an excuse to do what I've wanted for at least a few years now. One hundred galleons probably isn't much prostitute oneself for, but since it's what I want it's not fair to charge too much more. I'm still working my justification of it when Hugo says triple. He's always been the more enterprising one.
*
Lucius' first instruction is to wash the dishes in the nude. If it's meant to unsettle us, it doesn't work, I'm not phased by nudity. I'm on a Quidditch team with a bunch of teenage boys, I've got siblings and cousins that don't bother to be invited before apparation, I don't bother myself. Nudity is just a fact of life for me.
If it's meant to arouse us, it still doesn't work. Like I said, I've grown up seeing Albus and James and even Lily and Rose naked. The moment Albus started exciting me was the moment I learnt how to separate my brain from my cock. I might have been the one to suggest price, but Albus didn't say no, and I'd be willing to bet that he has the same ability.
If it's meant to arouse him, it's impossible to say if it's working. Lucius is sitting in the corner of the room on one of the dark wooden chairs, leg casually folded over one knee. He's as calm as Aunt Audrey, or at least acts it well. The way the robe sits makes it impossible to tell if he's hard. I rather hope he is. If we're a show then we should at least be interesting.
The longer I scrub the long handled brush over the china the more it bothers me. Weasleys are not a patient lot, and finally I turn and walk across the room, Albus staring at me like I've grown another head. My hand tangles in his long hair as I attempt to snog and grope him both. Within seconds he shoves me away and says something about impertinence, but I don't really care. I've got my answer, he's hard.
*
When Lucius first suggests Hugo clean the carpets I snigger a bit. I can't help it, I know how much he'll hate the job. On some advice from Uncle George a few Christmases ago, Hugo had tried to decorate with Edible Baubles. They'd been prototypes, and Uncle George had forgotten to mention that they had the nasty habit of melting if left hanging in the air too long. His mum had made him scrub every carpet by hand, even though she knew a charm for it.
His glare tells me he knows exactly why I'm laughing, and after we're done here he'll get me back. I'm not too concerned, Hugo's more likely to give me a few good punches then help me heal them. It's not like I'm pissing off Freddie, the mad git.
Unfortunately for me, he doesn't have to wait to get his revenge. Lucius hangs the rug in the air with some charm I don't know, and gives Hugo a oddly shaped paddle to beat the dust out. Then he drags me by the arm and uses the Shackles of Air charm dad uses at work to freeze my arms in the air beside the rug.
"One for the rug, one for Albus."
"What?"
"What?" we say, almost in unison. My voice has more horror though, because I've never actually told Hugo I have a thing for spanking, and the last thing I need is to come after two smacks.
"You heard my request, one I am paying a good deal of money for. Unless you no longer need your fee. Do you renege on the deal?"
I can't quite tell Hugo, it seems like crossing a line, not that I haven't done that hundreds of times, every time I fantasize about him. But I mutter "It's alright, you can," and I know he knows.
*
My hands ache from clutching the paddle, and kneeling with half my weight on my palms isn't helping. Of course, I'm definitely less sore than Albus is right now, the last I saw his arse was bright red. If he doesn't let me heal it, he's not going to be able to sit down. I've got this funny feeling though, that he won't want me to. I think I've stumbled on one of his kinks by pure chance.
It doesn't worry me too much, because he's literally in the position to get one of mine. The parody of cleaning is washing the floor, and I've got a bucket of soapy water in front of me. I'm ignoring it utterly though, I've got better things to focus on. Mainly Albus kneeling behind me, with his fingers holding my cheeks apart.
It's not so much about how hot it is, though there's no denying that. Albus blowing warm air over my hole makes my entire body shake. It's that rimming seems like so much more an intimate act than sucking or fucking. To be willing to put your mouth on someone's arsehole, you have to actually care about their pleasure. For Albus to be doing this, it makes it seem like it's more then some freak mistake, that he really might want to do this again.
The idea of repeat occurrences, just as much as the actual feeling of a tongue in my arse is what has me gripping my cock with the hand that's not holding my body up. If you can't one-up your best mates then who can you beat, I've always said, a bit of Slytherin ambition coming into play at times, and considering Albus lost all control while his needs were being met, It'll be a matter of pride to not come whilst he's rimming me.
*
Stubborn bastard, he's shaking like he's overdosed on Fizzing Whizzbees. The only reason he's not coming is because he thinks it somehow makes him better than me. It's stupid, how can denying yourself be a good thing? And it's not like I'm not already hard again. The ability to be constantly hard used to be aggravating, now I'm seeing the potential. Still, if he's turned it into a competition, then I'm not going to let him win. Now my goal is to make Hugo come, which was my goal before too, but now I hope it irritates him.
At this point it's easy to figure out that rimming him isn't going to be enough. It's obvious he likes it, he keeps clenching down like he's trying to rip my tongue out of my mouth, but if he's held on this long it's not going to push him over the edge.
I don't have any lube, but he's wet and open enough that when I pull my tongue out I can slip two fingers in. I almost laugh at how shocked Hugo is, he stiffens and arches his neck to look at me. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Scrub, Mr Weasley" comes the order in a clipped voice. Hugo takes the rag from the water and swipes it across the floor once before I start moving my fingers. The moment I start, the cleaning is abandoned.
I don't hear Lucius say anything, but as I squeeze a third finger beside the other two, hoping that it's not going to hurt him, my cock gets wet. I look down, my prick is covered in glistening lubrication, bluish tinge meaning I've passed the STD checking charm. I call out a thanks and line myself up behind Hugo.
The way he grips my cock is amazing, it's better than ten hands wanking me at once. I'll never be able to wank again without remembering this feeling. "Hugo, fuck, it's" I don't know how to explain it, there aren't words for this, "can I start?" moving, please, I need to move and feel all of you, but I won't start until he says okay because I know it hurts some people, and some people don't like to hurt. I could probably handle it, hard purpling cock in my red bruised arse, but I don't know if Hugo can and I refuse to hurt him.
He leans forward until only the head of my cock is inside him, then moves back again so I'm fully sheathed, and I nearly faint for how brilliant it is. I start thrusting, erratic and probably too fast, and part of me knows that I'm probably a bad lover, but Hugo doesn't seem to mind. He collapses to his elbows and leans on one forearm so his other hand is free to close around his cock.
It's easy to forget that we're in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor, my mind is entirely consumed by the sensations of fucking someone I've lusted for for over three years. Then the floor creaks and though I don't take my eyes off Hugo's sweaty back I can see dragonhide boots crossing the kitchen in my peripheral vision.
A minute later Hugo stops pressing back to meet my thrusting. I look up and Lucius is kneeling in front of him, robes in disarray. Hugo's head is bobbing, Lucius' fingers tight in his red shaggy hair, directing his motion. I've never seen someone giving a blowjob before, and to be honest there's not actually much to see from my position. But it's still ridiculously sexy, knowing that Hugo is being used by more than one person at a time.
*
I knew the moment he suggested we shag that he'd want in on the experience. I wasn't sure which one of us he wanted, or if it was both, but I knew we wouldn't get out of Malfoy Manor without Lucius Malfoy getting his own. I made the snap decision that it would be worth it, and Gryffindors Never Regret.
So we start to shag and I know it'll only be minutes until he makes his move. Most of me is centred around how good it feels to be fucked, brain shut off except for the bit that reminds my body to keep thrusting back. But part of me is able to calculate the odds, fifty percent chance Malfoy will fuck Albus, fifty percent chance I'll have to suck him off. That solved it moves on to the next issue, trying to convince myself that it's no big deal. I don't like the idea of having sex with someone that I hate, it seems ugly.
He kneels in front of me and it's all I can do to not curse, but I know if I did Albus would stop and ask if I was okay. If he stopped we might never have another excuse for doing this, and sucking Malfoy off is the lesser of the two evils. His white fingers slowly unbutton his robe, cock obscenely red as he guides my head to it.
There's less than no choice, so I curl my lips around him and try not to gag as he pushes all the way into my mouth. I keep my eyes closed, if I don't see blonde pubic hair it's easier to forget. Better to revel in the sensations than think of all the ramifications.
Albus comes first. It's warm and dirty and sexy, possibly the best thing I've ever felt. Better than that is the moan he lets out as he's coming, the fingers that spasm on my hips. Better than that is the avalanche it sets off in my body. My right hand stills as my left arm threatens to give out completely. Like when I wank I can't stop trembling as I orgasm, the difference is Albus is still inside me.
He waits until I stop shaking to pull out, then retreats to the kitchen chair his clothes are draped over. There's no sense in getting up, I know Malfoy will make me finish him off. I start working my head up and down again, jaw starting to ache. His fingers tighten in my hair and if I didn't have my mouth occupied I'd shout at him for it. It gets worse as he pulls up, harder and harder until I get the point and slide off.
I hope he doesn't want to fuck me, but I can't tell him he can't. If I do, I won't get the money I owe my mother. His index finger traces my lips before he slips two fingers between them. I start to panic, even wet with Albus' come, spit isn't much of a lubricant. As a third finger joins the first two the panic ratchets up a knot, but the fourth causes a bit of a mental snort. I had his prick in my mouth seconds ago, I know he's not that big.
Instead of relocating his fingers, Malfoy does something completely unexpected. He hooks his fingers into the inside of my cheek and pulls my face closer to his groin, then comes. It splatters over my face, and because his knuckles are forcing my jaw open some lands on my tongue. It's all I can do to not punch him.
*
I watch, frozen in shock as Hugo's ears turn nearly as red as his hair. It's a sign that he's furious, and I can tell he wants to murder Lucius for doing that to him. I close my fingers around the wand in the arse pocket of my jeans. As much as I understand Hugo being angry, the last thing we need is for a Weasley youth to attack the most senior Malfoy.
I'm about to toss him a tea towel when he grabs his shirt from the floor and rubs it across his face. He discards it before putting on his pants and jeans. I haven't got anything to do, so I stand, waiting for him to mention the Galleons. But he doesn't say anything, and as the silence stretches I realise he can't. He's broken, a little.
I walk up to Lucius and hold out my hand. "Money, thanks."
He leaves the room and part of me doesn't trust him in the least, but I don't follow him. I've got a strong feeling that would be getting far in over my head, as if this situation isn't strange enough already. The green bag he hands me is heavy, I untie the ribbon to make sure it's money, but I don't go as far as to count it. Gold in one hand, I curl my fingers into the gaps between Hugo's and we apparate away.
I have no fucking clue how we'll be around each other after this. I hope for repeats, but I expect a hideously awkward conversation followed by utterly avoiding each other for the rest of our lives. I don't really want to think about the future, except for the brilliant moment in which I beat the hell out of Scorpius for doing this to us. Then brew him the potion of his choice, for doing this to us. Being furious with and grateful to someone at the same time is rather confusing.