FIC: Of Rainy Days and Wizards [Blaise/Neville]
Title: Of Rainy Days and Wizards
Author/Artist: myfirstisfourth
Prompt: # 30 by digthewriter
Pairing(s): Blaise Zabini/Neville Longbottom
Word Count/Art Medium:~8700
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Slash, Mild Dom/sub, Anal sex, Orgasm Control, Referenced Mild Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Physical Scars, Post-War AU.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many Thanks to IrelandSpades and ladyofsd (LJ) for their amazing beta talents. And Much Gratitude to Her Royal Goddess for Brit-picking for me. They have all improved my original work in various ways.
Summary: Blaise Zabini has it all put together, the “Total Package”. He’s made quite a success of his life since the war ended. Everyone but his best friend believes the lie; he has them all fooled. A surprising encounter on a rainy night will lead him to the man who can see through his mask. The one man who will change his life forever...for the better.
Of Rainy Days and Wizards
Neville huddled in the covered doorway of a shop; a shop he was certain catered to Muggle tourists during the day. Thankfully, it was late evening, and the shop was closed, its covered doorway providing a welcome sanctuary from the torrential downpour he had Apparated into. Unable to do anything about his soggy, clinging clothes, he thrust his hands more snuggly into his armpits for warmth, grumbling once more, over his friend’s choice of accommodations.
He honestly understood why Harry wanted to live away from the wizarding community, but why did it have to be a flat in the middle of Muggle London. How he convinced Draco to live there with him, he would never understand. The apparition point was at least a block from the couple’s home, and he didn’t want to arrive soaked and dripping all over the carpet during Harry and Draco’s engagement party. He glanced ruefully down at his clothes. Well, too late for that I guess. Huffing again, he resigned himself to waiting until the rain died down to make a dash for it. Arriving fashionably late was acceptable, but at least he wouldn’t make himself look any worse and appear truly drowned.
Neville stirred at the loud pop of another apparition, lowering his hands to be prepared for anything. He heard a rapidly muttered curse and found his dry doorway soon crowded as a fellow wizard sought shelter.
It took a moment to recognize his companion due to the dim lighting. Neville leaned away as the man flapped raindrops from his trench coat. A nagging instinct, developed during the war, made his fingers itch for his wand, but it had been years, and they had all changed a lot since then. He could only hope, the person he was looking at, had changed for the better.
“Hello Blaise.”
Only after hearing Neville’s voice, did Zabini realize he wasn’t alone in the small, shadowed entryway. His usual sneer of disdain for the world at large wasn’t quite in place when he replied, “Hello...Longbottom. I take it you were caught by this deluge as well.”
Neville crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing some warmth into his biceps. It was early autumn, and he was getting cold, standing still in his wet clothes. He thought absently he should have brought a jacket. Shaking off his rambling thoughts, he answered, “Yeah. On your way to the party?”
Zabini nodded briefly. “Mm-hm. I had a business dinner run late. Now it appears I will be even later, unless I wish to arrive soaked.” He leaned his back against the opposite wall so that he faced Neville and turned his head to look out at the rain. “Of course,” Blaise muttered, “Potter would want to live in a Muggle flat... We can’t even use magic to help ourselves.”
Neville agreed, shaking his head. “No, not until we get to the flat. Any magic we do will show up on the Ministry’s radar and likely get us a warning, if nothing else.”
Huffing loudly and slumping against the wall, Blaise ignored the other man. It wasn’t as if Longbottom and he were friends; he only needed to be civil for Draco’s sake. Just his luck, his best friend would fall for bloody Harry Potter, requiring him to spend time around those Gryffindor friends of his.
Fortunately, business had kept him abroad for the better part of the past six months. This would be the first time he had to spend an extended amount of time with any of them since their schooldays. Not that he could blame Draco really. Potter was incredibly fit, causing no strain on the eyes, that’s for sure. He sometimes regretted never, at least attempting a move on the foxy Gryffindor. From everything Draco said, Potter was a beast in bed. He sighed. Ah well, too late now. Draco and Potter were head over heels in love and engaged to be married. The wedding would happen as soon as it could be planned, which knowing Mrs. Malfoy, would probably be in about three months, if not sooner.
Blaise was getting bored waiting. Since the war, he prefered staying busy to keep his mind off any troubling thoughts, there were certainly more than a few. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and he found his eyes drifting over to Longbottom. The man had certainly grown and matured since leaving Hogwarts, in fact, now that he could take a closer look, Longbottom was even more dishy than Potter. Damn! How in the hell have I not noticed him before?
Since their initial greeting, the Gryffindor hadn’t bothered him. He just stood there watching the rain falling.
Blaise took the opportunity to study the man standing across from him more fully. Thick brown hair, neatly trimmed with soft layers. Eyes that could not decide if they were hazel or green. A long sculpted nose, soft cheekbones in a squared face, and a strong jawline. While he had a thin upper lip, the lower lip was full and so pink it was utterly tempting. Longbottom had gotten taller, dwarfing Blaise’s own height by several centimeters. Broad shoulders and muscular arms gave way to a well-defined chest tapering to a lean waist. Sinfully long legs were encased in tight Muggle jeans, leaving little to the imagination in regard to what exactly Longbottom was packing.
The only thing he couldn’t see was his arse, but he imagined it was just as lush as the rest of him. The damp white shirt he wore clung to his chest, outlining a pair of dark nipples on sculpted pecs. Blaise felt his mouth water as he contemplated sucking those nipples...among other things.
Maybe the Slytherin could coax Longbottom into a little fun while they waited.
Neville was certainly no fool. He was so keenly aware of Blaise’s scrutiny that he could virtually trace the path of those dark eyes across his body. He certainly returned the interest and wouldn’t mind in the least getting his hands on the striking Slytherin. However, Neville wasn’t the same push-over he had been once upon a time in school, quite far from it in fact. He was also well aware of Blaise’s reputation as a sexual gadabout. Blaise had had no lasting relationships-ever. To use a common Muggle phrase, Blaise was a “fuck ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of guy. Not the type Neville went for, at all.
It wasn’t that Blaise wasn’t gorgeous; he simply didn’t want to waste time on a man who wouldn’t appreciate what he could offer. If Zabini thought to play him, he was going to get quite a surprise.
Blaise put on his most charming smile, tilting his head coyly and showing the graceful arch of his neck that had caught the interest of scores of conquests. Stepping closer to the silent Gryffindor, he braced his left hand against the wall just behind the young man, leaning in to make things more intimate.
“So Longbottom, ever fancied a go with a bloke? We could have a bit of...uhm...fun, while we wait.”
The Gryffindor’s intense hazel eyes studied him, carefully. Blaise dropped his gaze, slightly discomfited, and instead focused on the other wizard’s pink lips. His smile grew when he saw the tip of Longbottom’s tongue slip out to moisten them in preparation.
Zabini leaned in for the kill, letting his right hand drift up towards a nipple hardened by the cool breeze. He sucked in a sharp gasp when his wrist was captured faster than a snake striking and held firmly away from its target.
“Did I give you permission to touch my body?” Longbottom asked in a low voice.
The Slytherin’s gaze darted back up to look into fiery green eyes, and he felt compelled to answer.
“N-no.” Blaise was displeased to hear the sudden stutter in his voice. When those striking eyes narrowed at him pointedly and the hand holding his wrist tightened slightly, he added, “Sir?”
The Slytherin couldn’t believe what he had just said...and to Longbottom of all people. Neville’s stern gaze relaxed, and the grip on his wrist loosened but remained in place.
For some reason, he felt he had earned some sort of approval from the odd Gryffindor, and disturbingly enough, this pleased him. When Longbottom spoke, Blaise swore he could feel the low baritone voice vibrating along every inch of his spine, making him want to arch closer to the man in question.
“No. I didn’t think so.” Neville tugged on Zabini’s wrist to make sure he had his full attention.
“Let me be clear, Blaise. I choose who I’ll spend my time with…” Neville leaned into the Slytherin’s personal space and practically growled into his ear, “And once I make my choice...I take what I want.”
Blaise didn’t know when his eyes had slipped closed, and he was powerless to stop the shudder that traveled through his whole body at Longbottom’s words. But it was more than the words, something about the Gryffindor was setting off alarm bells, left and right, but at the moment, he couldn’t think why.
The Slytherin made a habit of being the aggressor with his more than willing partners. His response to this man was very disconcerting; Blaise had reasons for his preferences.
Opening his eyes and his mouth to speak, he rapidly began trying to extricate himself from the situation. “W-well, you know...can’t blame a bloke f-”
With his left hand, Neville pulled sharply on Blaise’s wrist, bringing him in tight against his chest, while his right hand grabbed the back of the Slytherin’s neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. The Gryffindor was expecting some resistance, but there was only surprise and hesitation, before Blaise began to respond. He moved his lips skillfully over Blaise’s, nipping with his teeth and sucking first one lip and then the other into his mouth.
When the Slytherin gasped softly against his mouth, he quickly pressed forward, exploring every curve and crevice he could map, before sucking the warm, thick tongue into his mouth. With Blaise’s wrist still in his hand, he tucked their arms behind the dark man’s lower back, pressing until their groins made contact. Zabini was already aroused, and Neville ground his own sizeable endowment against the other man’s. He gave a low rumble of pleasure when Blaise actually whined softly into his mouth.
Neville managed to twist his fingers into the short hair at the base of Blaise’s neck and pulled hard until the long throat was bared to him. He smirked at the sounds the Slytherin probably wasn’t even aware he was making then pulled away from the kiss. When he began to suck at the dark collarbone, he heard a corresponding groan and felt the thrust of hips beneath his hand. He proceeded to lick a broad stripe up the column of Blaise's chocolate throat, biting down just behind his ear, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
Before pulling away, Neville whispered in Blaise’s ear, “I told you...I take what I want.
Without warning, the Gryffindor released his hold and stepped back.
Blaise was still leaning against the wall, attempting to right his world, when Neville’s heated gaze raked over his body. Once he met the piercing eyes again, Neville’s words made him tremble anew, “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
The rain had eased off, and their chance to leg it had come. Neville looked back over his shoulder, “Best make a run for it while we can, yeah?”
Blaise was still wondering what had just happened as he watched Longbottom dart off down the street towards the flat. He felt odd, rather out of sorts, and couldn’t remember ever being so undone by a man, and certainly not just from a kiss. Neville Longbottom made him uncomfortable in a way he could not understand, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be chosen...or not. He finally managed to begin walking towards Draco and Harry’s, the light drizzle and cool breeze helping to clear his head. He thought there was nothing to do for it now; he’d just have to see how the night went.
{*} {*} {*}
The party was in full swing when they arrived, still a bit damp. However, once safely in the entryway, a flick of their wands had them put to rights in a tic. After greeting and congratulating their hosts, each dutifully presenting a small gift, the two men parted with slight nods. Neville wandered off to greet other friends, while Blaise, still a bit rattled, hit the bar for a stiff drink.
All evening, Neville found his eyes drawn repeatedly to Blaise, memories of what he had seen earlier weighing on his mind and prompting further consideration. Underneath that arched doorway, both of them drenched from the rain with shirts clinging tightly to their respective chests, Neville had clearly seen the dark outline of scars covering Blaise’s chest when they were standing close and the light hit them just right.
The Gryffindor knew Blaise had suffered an injury during the Battle of Hogwarts but not what had actually happened. Now he knew. The scaring looked very similar to what he had seen on Draco’s chest when they had visited the beach, but thanks to Snape’s intervention, Draco bore only the faintest trace of the Sectumsempra curse. However, Blaise’s scars were more pronounced.
Neville always thought it odd that Blaise never joined Draco when everyone went on holiday together to the coast... With this new insight in mind, the Gryffindor continued to watch and study the man as he considered what he may or may not do.
Blaise didn’t care for parties much anymore, however, courtesy and work required that he attend many such affairs; at least this was a happy occasion for his best friend. When he was with Draco, he could relax, letting the blond monopolize any conversations with other guests. It was when he had to interact while alone that he put on the mask.
Affable Blaise grinned and flirted, making indecent proposals to one and all before drifting off to the next encounter. Everyone laughed and smiled and waved ‘good ol’ Blaise’ on his way.
After the latest session of witless banter, Blaise found he needed a moment alone to regroup before he could do it again. He returned to the bar to refill his drink, and ended up sitting at the kitchen table. While he was peering into his glass and wondering why his thoughts were so maudlin, Draco found him.
The blond glanced out into the sitting room, “I know. It’s a bit much...but I am glad you came.” He sat down, opposite his friend. “One of those nights, huh?”
Blaise merely nodded. He didn’t have to speak; Draco had been familiar with his moods for many years now. He didn’t know how he would have survived after the war if it hadn’t been for Draco’s family taking him in after his own father... He cut that thought off abruptly. He would not think about that tonight.
Draco let him be, sipping his drink before making an apparently random observation. “Longbottom can’t seem to keep his eyes off you tonight. I wonder why... Harry says he is notoriously selective with his partners.” He looked pointedly at Blaise. “Anything going on there? A new conquest on the horizon?” He smirked at the guilty look on his friends face, “Oh! There is something.”
Blaise quickly shook his head, waving one hand to stave off Draco’s assumptions. “No. Nothing like that. I mean...a bit of a snog earlier, but nothing...certain.” He sighed, realizing for once he couldn’t explain himself to his oldest friend. “I don’t know. He’s certainly different from my usual type of bloke. Can’t imagine why he keeps staring though. If he is as picky as Harry says, why would he ever bother with me?”
Draco reached across to grip his friend’s hand as he replied fervently, “For lots of reasons. Don’t sell yourself short. Being with Harry, I’ve spent plenty of time around Neville. He is quieter than most, more private, but he is unfailingly good and kind. He’s a decent man, Blaise. If he’s interested, he’s worth taking a risk for.”
Blaise’s eyes widened at Draco’s words. A risk is exactly what he would be taking with someone like Neville. He just wasn’t certain he had the courage.
Nodding his head, Blaise replied. “Yeah...maybe.”
Draco smiled, squeezing his friend’s fingers before standing. “Can’t keep the other guests waiting when it’s my party, now can I?”
Blaise smiled, shaking his head in agreement.
“Besides,” the blond chuckled, “I believe I am past due for a snog with my fiancé.” He waved as he left the kitchen.
A few moments later, Blaise could hear the combination of ‘awws’ and cat calls that meant Draco had found Harry. He smiled as he rose to rejoin the party himself, not surprised to find Neville’s gaze turning his way once he entered the room. He pushed the man out of his mind, knowing there was nothing he could do until Longbottom made a decision.
{*} {*} {*}
By the end of the party, Neville was almost certain that Blaise did in fact need a man like him. He suspected he also knew the actual cause for the dark man’s string of one-night stands. The challenge would be getting him to open up and allow Neville to help. Regardless of the challenge, he had plans for the handsome Slytherin.
When he saw Blaise preparing to leave, he made his own hasty farewells, making sure he was right behind the darkly handsome man when he stepped outside. The rain had picked up again, prompting a groan from Zabini.
Neville stepped out into the rain and started walking. Turning to look at Blaise, he said, “Well, we’re leaving now, not as if we have to worry about getting wet, yeah.”
He shrugged his shoulder and gave a slight tilt of his head, inviting Blaise to walk with him as he began to move away. Neville couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face when he heard the splash of footsteps catching up.
They plodded silently through the rain until they reached the apparition point. Neville turned, catching the wary gaze of the Slytherin before he held out his hand. “Are you coming?”
Guess Longbottom has made his decision. Blaise glanced at the offered hand then back at Longbottom’s expectant expression. Now, it’s up to me...but what should I do?
He glanced over to their doorway shelter from earlier, recalling the sensations this particular Gryffindor stirred within him. He was terrified of facing a night alone with this man, but it was high time he took a chance on someone who just might last.
Blaise accepted Neville’s hand and stepped closer to him, both men Disapparating with a loud crack.
{*} {*} {*}
They arrived in the warm, well-appointed parlor of Neville’s family home. His Gran had passed only a few years ago, and he had inherited the stately old townhome. It spoke of old money and family history, and he loved it.
After they had both spelled themselves dry, Neville offered Blaise one of the leather armchairs near the cozy fire while he got them both a drink. He returned to stand at the Slytherin’s shoulder, just until Blaise looked up at him with uncertainty. Handing him his drink, Neville gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before he took his own seat, ready for the challenge ahead.
“Why did you decide...to pick me?” Blaise couldn’t help being curious after all.
Neville took his time answering, sipping his drink slowly while looking the other man over. When Blaise began to shift awkwardly in his seat, he spoke, “Various reasons.” He looked into the fire for a moment before continuing, “Some of them I’m not sure I can tell you just yet... I suppose you could say that my observation of you tonight convinced me that we might be a good fit.”
Blaise smirked, “Is that Gryffindor speak for I looked hot? Is this the foreplay then?”
Neville gave a small smile in return but remained undeterred. “Your looks were a given long before tonight, Blaise. My observation was another matter entirely. And this is not foreplay. This is you deciding if you can bring yourself to trust me before we proceed any further.”
Blaise felt his mouth go dry. Bringing his drink to his lips, he swallowed a good slug before he could speak. That odd feeling was back again; the feeling Neville caused earlier, something between uncomfortable and excited. “Trust you with what?” he managed to spit out after a long moment.
Neville’s eyes narrowed, and a knowing smile grew. “Everything,” he stated simply. “I would like you to tell me about your scars.”
All at once, Blaise’s countenance darkened; he stood, setting his glass down sharply on an end table. “Thank you for the drink, but I believe we have wasted enough of each other’s time. I’ll just be going now.” He turned to leave... He meant to go...but Neville’s voice called out softly.
“Blaise, you need to let someone in besides Draco.”
The Slytherin huffed. He had tried, and every time, it had ended in disaster. He took another step forward, stopping when Draco’s voice echoed in his mind. He is worth taking the risk over. Blaise’s heart began to beat faster, and he felt short of breath. He recognized the anxious feeling.
Relaxing his shoulders and getting control of his breathing, he put all his cards on the table. “My father.”
At this point, Blaise couldn’t stand the resurgence of his nerves, but in a soft voice, he forced himself to go on. “I don’t know how you found out. How you could possibly know about the scars... but it was my father. He did it… on the day of the Battle.”
He never heard Neville move, but suddenly there was the warmth of a large palm pressed into his back and a gentle voice in his ear said, “Come sit down, Blaise. I’ll get you a fresh drink and we can talk about it.”
Blaise had never wanted to talk about it, but Neville’s manner made it easier somehow. He did as he was told, Neville’s comforting hand guiding him back to his chair.
Soon a fresh Firewhisky was pressed into his hand and Neville, after drawing his own chair closer, returned to his seat.
When Blaise hesitated to start, Neville got the ball rolling. “I saw them earlier,” at the Slytherin’s startled and puzzled expression, he hurried on, “through your wet shirt.
The dark brown head bobbed in understanding. It made sense of course. If he had noticed, he would have pulled his coat and jacket closed self-consciously. The Slytherin was not in the habit of showing his scars to anyone.
“I am fairly certain I already know which curse caused them,” Neville continued, after he let Blaise process what he had said, “What I want to know is why, and I want to hear the whole story.”
Blaise forced himself to relax back into his chair and start from the beginning.
“During the last year of the war, Draco and I had growing doubts about the Dark Lord’s plans, but we didn’t act. When we saw Harry dead, we believed all hope was gone. And then, Harry leapt from Hagrid’s arms...a-alive; it was only a moment before we knew we would fight with him.”
He paused, glancing up to see how Longbottom was taking his story. Receiving only an encouraging nod and smile, he continued, “My father, you see, was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. He followed him with all the fervor of a religious zealot and expected his family to do the same.
“He saw me turn and fight beside Draco, fight against the Death Eaters...fight against him. I had no idea how much rage filled him at my betrayal.”
Pausing again to take a healthy swig of whiskey and a deep breath, he didn’t notice the tremor in his hand, until Neville’s hand reached out to still his fingers. He glanced up, genuine gratitude clear on his face over the simple gesture that helped ground him. Most of the men he had dated were uncomfortable with any vulnerability, but Neville simply accepted it and waited for him to continue.
“When Harry killed the Dark Lord, when the Death Eaters began to flee and chaos reigned, my father found me. Needless to say, he punished me for my…my crime. He said he no longer had a son, and he would not see a traitorous poof live to besmirch his name. Then he cursed me.”
“He could have just killed me...but he wanted me to suffer. Every Death Eater had been taught the Sectumsempra curse at Voldemort’s order. My father,” he mirthlessly laughed, “left me there, bleeding to death atop the rubble at the base of the school.”
Neville was still there, still listening, still holding his fingers in his large hand. Blaise choked off his irrational giggle of pleasure and downed the rest of his drink. “I would be dead if it weren’t for Draco. He knew the healing spell since Snape had used it on him. The only problem was that my father’s curse was fueled with far more hatred and loathing than Harry’s accidental curse against Draco. He was able to keep me alive but couldn’t minimize the scarring.
“After school, Draco and his family took me in. I lived there until I got established.”
He paused once more, chuckling to himself before meeting Neville’s gaze. “Do you know I still inherited my father’s estate when he died in Azkaban? Everything! The crazy fool thought he had killed me, so he never changed his will. I’m actually running my family’s estate and business interests despite my own father trying to end my life. I find comfort in that thought; a sort of poetic justice, you know what I mean?” Blaise barely waited for a nod from his host before finishing.
“My mum...she’s still alive. It’s just been hard to reconnect...after everything with Father.”
Now that he was finished, his brow furrowed suddenly, and he looked at Neville strangely. “I have never told anyone what happened to me. Draco only knows because he was there. I...I don’t understand...why you?”
Blaise glanced away, trying to control the sudden feeling of panic. Just telling the story had made him anxious, made him feel like he should run from this situation...hide himself from the inevitable fallout. His thoughts were promptly derailed by the Gryffindor’s next move.
Neville leaned forward, kissing Blaise softly yet possessively. “Because I understand what you need, and you needed to tell your story. It’s as simple as that.”
Blaise shook his head, “I still don’t get it.”
Neville stood, taking the empty glass from the Slytherin’s hand and placing it on a silver tray next to his. “You will.” He offered his hand. “I think we can go upstairs now.”
He hadn’t gone wrong with Longbottom so far, Blaise thought. With only a moment of hesitation, he took the offered hand and let Neville Longbottom guide him upstairs to his bedroom.
{*} {*} {*}
Neville’s bedroom was a surprise to Blaise. It was dark with well-polished, antique furnishings, in colors of rich burgundy, midnight black, and charcoal grey. It was remarkably sophisticated for the nervous bumbler Blaise remembered from their school days.
He looked at Neville, really looked, beginning to see the man he had become. This was certainly not going the way his usual seductions did, and he was at a loss as to what to do next.
Neville didn't have the same problem. He led the Slytherin over to the side of his bed before sitting and pulling the dark beauty between his thighs. Resting his hands on lean hips, he said, “Just so we’re clear. I am not like the other men you have been with; I prefer to be in control.” His expression, dark with repressed passion, made Blaise shudder involuntarily. “Control of everything, Blaise. Of you, your pleasure...your care. I can take you apart in ways you’ve never imagined... You only have to trust me, submit to me. Allow me to have control and give you what you need; what you’ve been missing for so long.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Longbottom,” Blaise replied, trying to protect himself and divert such intense attention out of long ingrained habit. “I don’t just give it up because a man says so. Besides, I prefer to top.”
“No. You don’t.”
The Slytherin was truly startled by the statement, debating what to say next, but Neville took charge once again. “You don’t like to top; you’ve made yourself top...because of these.” He allowed his hand to rest over the muscled chest, still covered by a lavender shirt. He reached up to begin unbuttoning the shirt, only to be stopped by a dark hand covering his.
Blaise’s soft voice pleaded, “Please, don’t.” He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Neville, to let him see the vulnerability in his eyes.
Neville was undeterred. Slowly removing Blaise’s hand, he moved to the second button as he spoke again. “I believe I told you that I take what I want.” He unbuttoned the third button, “Now, I’m going to take...you, and you’re going to let me. I would even wager you will give yourself to me.” He was positively leering at the stunned man before him.
Blaise sputtered and scoffed, “What makes you think…? Why do you assume…?” He sucked in a deep breath, bringing himself under control. Leveling his gaze at the arrogant Gryffindor in front of him, he spoke pointedly. “What makes you think that, Longbottom?”
Neville only chuckled as the next button popped free. “Because I have watched you all night.” He motioned for Blaise to lean down, and when he did, that low voice whispered in his ear. “I’ve seen the mask you put on; I’ve seen what’s behind it when you let it fall.”
The Gryffindor heard a sharp intake of breath as Blaise straightened but didn’t look up from his task. “You’re comfortable around Draco, relax when he dominates the conversation, yield to his choices.” He did look up then, “You’ve always been that way around Draco, even in school. Always the dutiful follower, never the leader.”
He returned his attention to the few remaining buttons. “When you are approached by other men, the mask is in place as you flirt and carry on-but your body betrays you. You unconsciously hunch your shoulders in slightly. You lower your eyes or tilt your head down. Your body wants to submit to men you view as stronger or more powerful than you, even as you force yourself to be the dominant pursuer. It’s no wonder you need breaks during social gatherings; you’re exhausting yourself, trying to deny your own tendencies...and what you need.”
For a long moment, Blaise just stared at the man. Never had anyone been able to see through him, to see the truth. The fact that Neville did and could, terrified him as much as it excited him. Yet, he tried to stick to his proverbial guns. “T-That proves nothing. I see no basis for your assumptions.”
Neville smirked up at the nervous Slytherin. “Really? I can give you a few more examples if you like.”
With a curt nod from his guest, a smile spread across his face. “How about the fact that during the last five minutes you haven’t once attempted to stop me? Haven’t even attempted to simply walk out. When I made my position clear and you knew my expectations, you could have left at any time. I’m not holding you...don’t have you bound.”
“But truly the most damning evidence in my favor is your utter lack of protest to being stripped by me.” He had deftly unfastened Blaise’s trousers as he talked. Sliding his hands into the back of his pants, Neville eased both the garments down. Smoothing his palms over taut buttocks, he bared a rather impressive erection. The Gryffindor positively beamed, “And let’s not forget your rather obvious arousal over me being in control.” He wrapped one hand around the swollen member and began to stroke languidly, enough pressure to tease but not enough to relieve the tension Blaise was feeling.
A small moan escaped the Slytherin’s throat as he struggled not to whine needily, however, he wasn’t sure he succeeded. He could only look at the hand stroking his cock and marvel at the man it belonged to. No one had ever even suspected his submissive nature, but Neville had figured it out in one evening. The Gryffindor was spot on, and he wanted nothing more than to give him whatever he wanted.
When no further protestations seemed to be forthcoming, Neville tightened his hand around the darkly flushed cock to get Blaise’s attention. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.
The Slytherin froze. He had spent years hiding himself, not letting others get too close, curbing any chance his dalliances had of seeing his chest, after one too many bad experiences. Could he bring himself to willingly show his body now?
Once again, the Gryffindor appeared to know precisely what was on his mind. Neville raised his free hand until it rested in the middle of Blaise’s chest, just under the opened edges of the unbuttoned shirt. He felt a hitch in the man’s breathing as he touched him but carried on as if nothing had happened.
“These,” he let his thumb lightly trace the ragged outline of one scar, “do not bother me, Blaise. Do you understand? This is not the sum total of you as a man; there is so much more I wish to experience with you, but it will require you freeing yourself from this shirt.” Neville could feel the heart racing beneath his fingers.
The Gryffindor narrowed his eyes shrewdly and asked, “When was the last time you bottomed for anyone?”
Blaise blinked in surprise and answered the question without thinking. “Before.” He waved one hand towards himself in explanation.
Neville nodded, having expected as much. “You made yourself top.” Blaise glanced away, still shaken by the clarity with which Neville saw him. “You became the aggressor so that you could control sexual situations...control what others saw. You topped from behind, so they wouldn’t be able to see you. I suspect you’ve exaggerated the number of ‘conquests’ you’ve had, as well. Your reputation...earned from the way you disappear afterwards, rather than risk discovery with further intimacies. That is not going to happen tonight.”
Blaise was going to hyperventilate; he just knew it. It simply wasn’t possible. “How do you...? How can you possibly know! Draco has known me for years and even he only suspects.” He was stunned, but not afraid.
Longbottom smiled. “I’m a man of many skills, surprisingly. I enjoy being a dominant and have learned to recognize a submissive in need. I can give you what you want...what you need. You only have to trust me.”
Blaise stared at the man sitting before him, his hands still pressed to his chest and around his cock. He wasn’t ready, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Casting about for any reason to stall he asked, “Couldn’t we turn out the lights? Just this once?” Neville understood but was not backing down, slowly shaking his head as he waited patiently.
After a long moment, the Slytherin slowly reached up, slipping his shirt carefully off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor behind him. He kept his eyes averted from Neville’s, afraid to see the reaction he had become so familiar with in the past.
The Gryffindor merely nodded in approval. “Good. That’s good. Step out of your trousers and pants, then I want you to lie on the bed. Shoes and socks too, of course.”
Blaise quickly did as instructed, Neville rising from the bed so he could take his place. Lying down expectantly, he waited for his next instruction.
Neville leaned over him, letting his right hand ghost down Blaise’s dark throat, over his scarred but sculpted pecs and abs, to the thick thatch of curls and waiting shaft. “You are a bloody gorgeous man, Blaise Zabini. And if I have my way about it, you’ll be mine.” He smirked as the cock beneath his hand twitched in response to his words. He kissed the Slytherin fiercely before standing back abruptly. “I want to watch you touch yourself while I undress. Pleasure yourself now, I might not allow it later.”
Blaise was certain he did whine that time. He dutifully licked his palm and reached for his cock, spreading the moisture leaking from his slit to ease the way and stroking steadily as he watched Neville undress. His previous assessment in the darkened doorway with only streetlights to go by, or even across the room at the party, did not do justice to the powerful physique being bared to him now. Blaise licked his lips as the Gryffindor reached for his own trousers, having to close his eyes and grip the base of his cock tightly just to get his libido under control. Neville’s cock was gloriously big, long and thick. The Slytherin could imagine the weight of it on his tongue or the sensation of it filling him already, and he hadn’t even gotten to touch it yet. He had completely forgotten about his scars under Neville’s intense, heated stare. Swallowing thickly, he resumed the movement of his hand, temporarily without danger of imminent release.
When he was naked, Neville climbed onto the bed, draping himself over Blaise, slotting his thighs in between the readily spread legs and letting their weeping erections rub together. He smirked as those long dark legs instinctively wrapped around his hips but made no move to thrust against the man beneath him.
He slid one hand behind the curly head and kissed Blaise deeply, enjoying and returning the low moan he elicited. “Tonight is about you and for you. Unless I tell you otherwise, you only have to lay back and let me please you.”
Once Neville got a shaky nod in reply, he began in earnest. He kissed the strong jaw, nipping and sucking until he reached an ear. Licking around the shell, he flicked his tongue into the well of the ear before sucking hard on the earlobe. He heard a soft gasp and moan as hips bucked up against him.
“Only the beginning,” he promised, continuing down to Blaise’s throat, sucking hard until he left a mark at its base next to the collarbone. With a sharp bite over his mark, he moved on, reaching the scarred chest. He pinned Blaise’s wrists to the bed on either side of his body, not trusting him to keep them to himself and not interfere with what he knew must be done. He took his time, mapping every scar with his lips and tongue, worshiping the man beneath the marred flesh and kissing away unpleasant memories.
Blaise had frozen when Neville reached his chest, then he had nervously tried to twist away from the searing affection and intimacy but his movements were hampered by the firm body over him. Finally, he accepted the tenderness being shown him and went still as tears began to trickle down his cheeks.
Neville knew the affect he was having on the wounded Slytherin, wounded in mind as well as in body. He knew without asking that Blaise had not received real physical affection in many years. That no one had taken the time to make love to this beautiful man. He let the dark beauty come apart beneath him and didn’t comment, merely continuing to lavish his attention on his ravishing prize. Releasing his hold on the wrists and moving on to the weeping shaft, he licked the length of Blaise’s cock, before taking him deep in his mouth and sucking hard, enjoying the resulting loud cry and thrust of hips. Knowing it had been a long time for his new partner, Neville whispered a spell and began the work of preparation, quickly circling the tight, puckered entrance before pushing a finger in. It had been quite a while since the dominant had a partner that meshed so well with his need to control as much as care, and he wasn’t certain how long he’d be able to last.
Blaise was drowning in sensation and emotion. Once he had given up resisting Neville’s tenderness and submitted fully, it had been one jolt of pleasure after another, each feeding into the emotional upheaval he was undergoing. He moaned softly as Neville began to prepare him, desperately looking forward to being filled by this remarkable man.
The Slytherin could hardly believe that before tonight, he had discounted Neville to such a degree, when he appeared to be exactly what he needed and wanted in a partner.
By the time Neville spread him wide and began to push inside, he could not stop the tears of happiness...of release. He turned his head to the side, attempting to hide himself.
Neville pushed forward until he bottomed out, enjoying the sight of his cock buried in the tight arse below him. He saw what Blaise was trying to do and wouldn’t allow such behavior. He leaned forward, pushing the Slytherin’s knees up towards his chest and sinking deeper to mutual groans of pleasure. He pulled Blaise’s arms up over his head and pinned them together with his left hand wrapped around the joined wrists. With his right, he gripped the stubborn chin and guided the tear stained face to look at him. “You will not hide from me, Blaise. Let me see. Let me see everything.”
Holding his lover’s dark gaze, he slowly eased out and pushed back in. Neville leaned in to taste the willing mouth once more as he continued to slowly fuck his new submissive.
When he knew he was getting close and the frantic sounds against his lips indicated the same for his partner, Neville released those swollen lips and drew back to better see the effect he was having on the man below him. He moved his hand down from Blaise’s chin to wrap around the base of his throat.
“You are going to count out loud to ten while I fuck you good and hard. Once you reach ten, only then, do you have my permission to cum. Do you understand?” Blaise’s eyes fell closed and he bit his lower lip sharply as he whined and nodded eagerly. Neville positively leered as he spoke again. “Very good. You may begin now.”
“One.”
The dominant Gryffindor held him pinned, watching every emotion, every reaction flicker across the face before him as he began to pound his cock deep into the willing arse.
“Two.”
Wanting to time things just right, Neville changed the angle of his thrust, keeping the same pace and depth. He knew when his cock brushed near Blaise’s prostate as the other man released a shuddering breath.
“Three.”
The number dragging out, almost ending on a wail as Blaise whimpered. It was too much and not enough all at once.
“Four.”
The Slytherin whined, each stroke only a glancing tease near the bundle of nerves within him.
“Five.”
Blaise breathlessly arched against his lover, pressing his heels into Neville firm arse, bringing them closer together as he was forcefully fucked. He gasped as Neville began hitting his sweet spot straight on. He could feel the tautness of the muscles moving between his thighs as his own arousal churned fiercely.
“S-Six.”
He could barely recognize his own voice as he rasped and croaked out each number; his need for release building exponentially with each word and gasping breath in between.
“S-Sev-Seven,” he sobbed out the end of the number.
As the submissive Slytherin moaned, Neville gave him a quick peck to get his attention and slowly lifted his head, keeping eye contact. “Feel me.”
“E-Eight,” the word came out as a shaky gasp.
Restrained by his wrists and throat, being taken roughly by this amazing man, Blaise realised at last what he had always hoped for but never found...until now.
“Nine...” His orgasm was hovering just on the brink, ready to tip him over into oblivion.
He barely noticed he had reached ten, and couldn’t stop his smile when Neville whispered, “Come with me,” realizing that, even with earlier permission, he had still been waiting for him...wanting to be able to cum together.
Three more sharp thrusts and he cried out, coming in ragged spurts between them, even as he felt the pulse of hot cum inside him.
Neville stayed buried deep within him, releasing his holds and leaning forward to kiss him tenderly. Utterly sated and feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a long time, Blaise wrapped his arms around Neville’s back and pulled him closer, placing soft kisses to his throat, shoulder, neck...anywhere he could reach.
Neville appreciating the show of warmth, smiled, “That was brilliant. And you...you were amazing.”
“I did nothing.” The Slytherin replied in confusion.
“You did everything. You trusted me.”
Blaise had nothing to say to that, so they lay wrapped together until Neville softened and slipped out. When the Gryffindor rose, Blaise dutifully followed him into the shower, allowing himself to be cared for, washed and pampered before being taken back to bed. With Neville spooned against him and the lights out, he slept peacefully while rain continued to fall outside.
{*} {*} {*}
Blaise awoke desperate for the loo. He slid out of bed as quickly as he could, grabbing his shirt off the floor out of habit and throwing it on as he went to relieve himself. When he returned, he was surprised to find Neville propped up on his elbow, watching him.
“Trying to make your getaway?”
“No, I just needed the loo, you daft bugger.” Blaise walked towards the bed, assessing his lover’s mood.
“Hmm...I don’t recall telling you that you could get dressed. In fact I would very much prefer seeing you naked at every opportunity.” Neville smiled and lay back against the pillows with his hands behind his head, before thrusting his chin at the partially covered man. “Take it off and get over here.”
Blaise laughed as he stripped off the shirt without a shred of insecurity and made his way over to the bed. When he reached Neville’s side, he was startled by a hand grabbing his arm and yanking him onto the bed and over the prominent morning erection of his new lover.
The barest flicker of amusement passed between them, before Neville spoke, his voice already husky with passion. “Ride me.”
Blaise swallowed thickly as his own arousal quickly spiked, obediently straddling his lover and sinking himself smoothly onto the gratifying thickness of Neville’s cock. Both of them groaning softly as he began to rise and fall along the lengthy shaft. One of Neville’s hands reached up and reverently touched the scars on the body moving above him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured softly.
Blaise, blushed at the praise and attention ducking his head momentarily, hardly believing he was able to suddenly feel bashful while riding and fucking himself atop his lover. Realizing that, Neville was momentarily speechless, soon directing the conversation to something safer.
“Just so you’re aware, you should plan on a thorough rogering every morning.”
Blaise smirked as he shifted a bit, spreading his knees wider to allow him to sink more deeply over his lover’s cock, moaning as the massive shaft filled him over and over, stroking his prostate just right. He absently thought that he might never have to touch his own cock again in order to cum, if this was the way Neville would always fuck him.
The Slytherin finally gathered his wits to reply, “Oh, really?” It was the best he could come up with given the current circumstances.
With a little smile, Neville just nodded, “Certainly. Best way to start the day.” He was quiet for a few minutes just enjoying the push and pull of his cock in Blaise’s tight, hot arse before he spoke again. “When do you think you’ll want to move in?”
Blaise looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “What! We’ve only just hooked up. You. Are. Currently, fucking me, and you want to ask something like that? Are you barmy?”
Neville pushed up into him sharply and quickened the pace as he chuckled. “No better time than the present. Besides,” he thrust hard and deep into his partner once again to a resounding cry of pleasure, “I’ve sort of got a captive audience at the moment. And no, not nearly barmy enough, actually.”
He dropped the topic as his pace increased, and they both quickly approached orgasm. Only when they were sweaty and covered with cum did Neville ask again. “So what do you think?”
Blaise just shook his head, “Are you serious?”
Neville shrugged, absently stroking the smooth dark skin of his lover’s back as the man was now draped over his chest.
“Why not?” the Gryffindor innocently asked, “How else am I going to fuck you any time I want, over every surface I own?”
Blaise couldn’t resist the crazed fool, but instead of answering, he grabbed a pillow and swatted his lover. “You’re one mad bastard.”
Neville only laughed and grabbed his own pillow. They were soon engaged in a naked pillow fight while Blaise tried to remember the last time he had laughed in bed with a man.
One thing he could say for sure, life with a Gryffindor would certainly be interesting.
{*} {*} {*}
They did move in together, three months later. With Neville’s attention, affection, and support, Blaise became a powerful businessman in his own right. He was able to battle any hardass who came his way in the board room, as well as let himself be vulnerable and surrender that power at home.
When Neville proposed two years later, he had no qualms accepting the man he had come to love in a way he had long doubted he ever would.
They had their bonding ceremony in the garden of their townhome with their closest friends and family in attendance, Draco and Harry happily standing up as their best men. The weather was pleasant all through the ceremony, but as they moved on to the reception, clouds began to roll in.
The couple and their guests were too happy and jubilant to pay much attention, until the rain began to fall, sending people scurrying for the house or the gazebo.
Blaise stood under the eaves of the gazebo, looking out at the rain as the house elves scurried to move the rest of the reception indoors. Neville stepped up beside him, wrapping one arm around his waist. They both looked out at the rain, then at each other, remembering the night that had led them to this moment.
Neville grinned as he stepped out into the rain, bowing low and offering his hand to his husband. “I believe a first dance is traditional at these affairs, would you care to join me?”
Blaise smiled as he too stepped out into the rain. “You are correct, love.”
The freshly married Gryffindor nodded sagely, “I normally am; you know.” This earned him a playful smack on the arse before they began to dance.
When the guests began to miss the happy couple and went looking, they were surprised to find them in each other’s arms, soaking wet and waltzing away in the rain. While most thought that it was oddly sweet, they simply couldn’t understand why the couple were laughing merrily with each other.
{*} {*} {*}
Author/Artist: myfirstisfourth
Prompt: # 30 by digthewriter
Pairing(s): Blaise Zabini/Neville Longbottom
Word Count/Art Medium:~8700
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Slash, Mild Dom/sub, Anal sex, Orgasm Control, Referenced Mild Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Physical Scars, Post-War AU.
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many Thanks to IrelandSpades and ladyofsd (LJ) for their amazing beta talents. And Much Gratitude to Her Royal Goddess for Brit-picking for me. They have all improved my original work in various ways.
Summary: Blaise Zabini has it all put together, the “Total Package”. He’s made quite a success of his life since the war ended. Everyone but his best friend believes the lie; he has them all fooled. A surprising encounter on a rainy night will lead him to the man who can see through his mask. The one man who will change his life forever...for the better.
Of Rainy Days and Wizards
Neville huddled in the covered doorway of a shop; a shop he was certain catered to Muggle tourists during the day. Thankfully, it was late evening, and the shop was closed, its covered doorway providing a welcome sanctuary from the torrential downpour he had Apparated into. Unable to do anything about his soggy, clinging clothes, he thrust his hands more snuggly into his armpits for warmth, grumbling once more, over his friend’s choice of accommodations.
He honestly understood why Harry wanted to live away from the wizarding community, but why did it have to be a flat in the middle of Muggle London. How he convinced Draco to live there with him, he would never understand. The apparition point was at least a block from the couple’s home, and he didn’t want to arrive soaked and dripping all over the carpet during Harry and Draco’s engagement party. He glanced ruefully down at his clothes. Well, too late for that I guess. Huffing again, he resigned himself to waiting until the rain died down to make a dash for it. Arriving fashionably late was acceptable, but at least he wouldn’t make himself look any worse and appear truly drowned.
Neville stirred at the loud pop of another apparition, lowering his hands to be prepared for anything. He heard a rapidly muttered curse and found his dry doorway soon crowded as a fellow wizard sought shelter.
It took a moment to recognize his companion due to the dim lighting. Neville leaned away as the man flapped raindrops from his trench coat. A nagging instinct, developed during the war, made his fingers itch for his wand, but it had been years, and they had all changed a lot since then. He could only hope, the person he was looking at, had changed for the better.
“Hello Blaise.”
Only after hearing Neville’s voice, did Zabini realize he wasn’t alone in the small, shadowed entryway. His usual sneer of disdain for the world at large wasn’t quite in place when he replied, “Hello...Longbottom. I take it you were caught by this deluge as well.”
Neville crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing some warmth into his biceps. It was early autumn, and he was getting cold, standing still in his wet clothes. He thought absently he should have brought a jacket. Shaking off his rambling thoughts, he answered, “Yeah. On your way to the party?”
Zabini nodded briefly. “Mm-hm. I had a business dinner run late. Now it appears I will be even later, unless I wish to arrive soaked.” He leaned his back against the opposite wall so that he faced Neville and turned his head to look out at the rain. “Of course,” Blaise muttered, “Potter would want to live in a Muggle flat... We can’t even use magic to help ourselves.”
Neville agreed, shaking his head. “No, not until we get to the flat. Any magic we do will show up on the Ministry’s radar and likely get us a warning, if nothing else.”
Huffing loudly and slumping against the wall, Blaise ignored the other man. It wasn’t as if Longbottom and he were friends; he only needed to be civil for Draco’s sake. Just his luck, his best friend would fall for bloody Harry Potter, requiring him to spend time around those Gryffindor friends of his.
Fortunately, business had kept him abroad for the better part of the past six months. This would be the first time he had to spend an extended amount of time with any of them since their schooldays. Not that he could blame Draco really. Potter was incredibly fit, causing no strain on the eyes, that’s for sure. He sometimes regretted never, at least attempting a move on the foxy Gryffindor. From everything Draco said, Potter was a beast in bed. He sighed. Ah well, too late now. Draco and Potter were head over heels in love and engaged to be married. The wedding would happen as soon as it could be planned, which knowing Mrs. Malfoy, would probably be in about three months, if not sooner.
Blaise was getting bored waiting. Since the war, he prefered staying busy to keep his mind off any troubling thoughts, there were certainly more than a few. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and he found his eyes drifting over to Longbottom. The man had certainly grown and matured since leaving Hogwarts, in fact, now that he could take a closer look, Longbottom was even more dishy than Potter. Damn! How in the hell have I not noticed him before?
Since their initial greeting, the Gryffindor hadn’t bothered him. He just stood there watching the rain falling.
Blaise took the opportunity to study the man standing across from him more fully. Thick brown hair, neatly trimmed with soft layers. Eyes that could not decide if they were hazel or green. A long sculpted nose, soft cheekbones in a squared face, and a strong jawline. While he had a thin upper lip, the lower lip was full and so pink it was utterly tempting. Longbottom had gotten taller, dwarfing Blaise’s own height by several centimeters. Broad shoulders and muscular arms gave way to a well-defined chest tapering to a lean waist. Sinfully long legs were encased in tight Muggle jeans, leaving little to the imagination in regard to what exactly Longbottom was packing.
The only thing he couldn’t see was his arse, but he imagined it was just as lush as the rest of him. The damp white shirt he wore clung to his chest, outlining a pair of dark nipples on sculpted pecs. Blaise felt his mouth water as he contemplated sucking those nipples...among other things.
Maybe the Slytherin could coax Longbottom into a little fun while they waited.
Neville was certainly no fool. He was so keenly aware of Blaise’s scrutiny that he could virtually trace the path of those dark eyes across his body. He certainly returned the interest and wouldn’t mind in the least getting his hands on the striking Slytherin. However, Neville wasn’t the same push-over he had been once upon a time in school, quite far from it in fact. He was also well aware of Blaise’s reputation as a sexual gadabout. Blaise had had no lasting relationships-ever. To use a common Muggle phrase, Blaise was a “fuck ‘em and leave ‘em” kind of guy. Not the type Neville went for, at all.
It wasn’t that Blaise wasn’t gorgeous; he simply didn’t want to waste time on a man who wouldn’t appreciate what he could offer. If Zabini thought to play him, he was going to get quite a surprise.
Blaise put on his most charming smile, tilting his head coyly and showing the graceful arch of his neck that had caught the interest of scores of conquests. Stepping closer to the silent Gryffindor, he braced his left hand against the wall just behind the young man, leaning in to make things more intimate.
“So Longbottom, ever fancied a go with a bloke? We could have a bit of...uhm...fun, while we wait.”
The Gryffindor’s intense hazel eyes studied him, carefully. Blaise dropped his gaze, slightly discomfited, and instead focused on the other wizard’s pink lips. His smile grew when he saw the tip of Longbottom’s tongue slip out to moisten them in preparation.
Zabini leaned in for the kill, letting his right hand drift up towards a nipple hardened by the cool breeze. He sucked in a sharp gasp when his wrist was captured faster than a snake striking and held firmly away from its target.
“Did I give you permission to touch my body?” Longbottom asked in a low voice.
The Slytherin’s gaze darted back up to look into fiery green eyes, and he felt compelled to answer.
“N-no.” Blaise was displeased to hear the sudden stutter in his voice. When those striking eyes narrowed at him pointedly and the hand holding his wrist tightened slightly, he added, “Sir?”
The Slytherin couldn’t believe what he had just said...and to Longbottom of all people. Neville’s stern gaze relaxed, and the grip on his wrist loosened but remained in place.
For some reason, he felt he had earned some sort of approval from the odd Gryffindor, and disturbingly enough, this pleased him. When Longbottom spoke, Blaise swore he could feel the low baritone voice vibrating along every inch of his spine, making him want to arch closer to the man in question.
“No. I didn’t think so.” Neville tugged on Zabini’s wrist to make sure he had his full attention.
“Let me be clear, Blaise. I choose who I’ll spend my time with…” Neville leaned into the Slytherin’s personal space and practically growled into his ear, “And once I make my choice...I take what I want.”
Blaise didn’t know when his eyes had slipped closed, and he was powerless to stop the shudder that traveled through his whole body at Longbottom’s words. But it was more than the words, something about the Gryffindor was setting off alarm bells, left and right, but at the moment, he couldn’t think why.
The Slytherin made a habit of being the aggressor with his more than willing partners. His response to this man was very disconcerting; Blaise had reasons for his preferences.
Opening his eyes and his mouth to speak, he rapidly began trying to extricate himself from the situation. “W-well, you know...can’t blame a bloke f-”
With his left hand, Neville pulled sharply on Blaise’s wrist, bringing him in tight against his chest, while his right hand grabbed the back of the Slytherin’s neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. The Gryffindor was expecting some resistance, but there was only surprise and hesitation, before Blaise began to respond. He moved his lips skillfully over Blaise’s, nipping with his teeth and sucking first one lip and then the other into his mouth.
When the Slytherin gasped softly against his mouth, he quickly pressed forward, exploring every curve and crevice he could map, before sucking the warm, thick tongue into his mouth. With Blaise’s wrist still in his hand, he tucked their arms behind the dark man’s lower back, pressing until their groins made contact. Zabini was already aroused, and Neville ground his own sizeable endowment against the other man’s. He gave a low rumble of pleasure when Blaise actually whined softly into his mouth.
Neville managed to twist his fingers into the short hair at the base of Blaise’s neck and pulled hard until the long throat was bared to him. He smirked at the sounds the Slytherin probably wasn’t even aware he was making then pulled away from the kiss. When he began to suck at the dark collarbone, he heard a corresponding groan and felt the thrust of hips beneath his hand. He proceeded to lick a broad stripe up the column of Blaise's chocolate throat, biting down just behind his ear, then sucking hard enough to leave a mark.
Before pulling away, Neville whispered in Blaise’s ear, “I told you...I take what I want.
Without warning, the Gryffindor released his hold and stepped back.
Blaise was still leaning against the wall, attempting to right his world, when Neville’s heated gaze raked over his body. Once he met the piercing eyes again, Neville’s words made him tremble anew, “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
The rain had eased off, and their chance to leg it had come. Neville looked back over his shoulder, “Best make a run for it while we can, yeah?”
Blaise was still wondering what had just happened as he watched Longbottom dart off down the street towards the flat. He felt odd, rather out of sorts, and couldn’t remember ever being so undone by a man, and certainly not just from a kiss. Neville Longbottom made him uncomfortable in a way he could not understand, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be chosen...or not. He finally managed to begin walking towards Draco and Harry’s, the light drizzle and cool breeze helping to clear his head. He thought there was nothing to do for it now; he’d just have to see how the night went.
{*} {*} {*}
The party was in full swing when they arrived, still a bit damp. However, once safely in the entryway, a flick of their wands had them put to rights in a tic. After greeting and congratulating their hosts, each dutifully presenting a small gift, the two men parted with slight nods. Neville wandered off to greet other friends, while Blaise, still a bit rattled, hit the bar for a stiff drink.
All evening, Neville found his eyes drawn repeatedly to Blaise, memories of what he had seen earlier weighing on his mind and prompting further consideration. Underneath that arched doorway, both of them drenched from the rain with shirts clinging tightly to their respective chests, Neville had clearly seen the dark outline of scars covering Blaise’s chest when they were standing close and the light hit them just right.
The Gryffindor knew Blaise had suffered an injury during the Battle of Hogwarts but not what had actually happened. Now he knew. The scaring looked very similar to what he had seen on Draco’s chest when they had visited the beach, but thanks to Snape’s intervention, Draco bore only the faintest trace of the Sectumsempra curse. However, Blaise’s scars were more pronounced.
Neville always thought it odd that Blaise never joined Draco when everyone went on holiday together to the coast... With this new insight in mind, the Gryffindor continued to watch and study the man as he considered what he may or may not do.
Blaise didn’t care for parties much anymore, however, courtesy and work required that he attend many such affairs; at least this was a happy occasion for his best friend. When he was with Draco, he could relax, letting the blond monopolize any conversations with other guests. It was when he had to interact while alone that he put on the mask.
Affable Blaise grinned and flirted, making indecent proposals to one and all before drifting off to the next encounter. Everyone laughed and smiled and waved ‘good ol’ Blaise’ on his way.
After the latest session of witless banter, Blaise found he needed a moment alone to regroup before he could do it again. He returned to the bar to refill his drink, and ended up sitting at the kitchen table. While he was peering into his glass and wondering why his thoughts were so maudlin, Draco found him.
The blond glanced out into the sitting room, “I know. It’s a bit much...but I am glad you came.” He sat down, opposite his friend. “One of those nights, huh?”
Blaise merely nodded. He didn’t have to speak; Draco had been familiar with his moods for many years now. He didn’t know how he would have survived after the war if it hadn’t been for Draco’s family taking him in after his own father... He cut that thought off abruptly. He would not think about that tonight.
Draco let him be, sipping his drink before making an apparently random observation. “Longbottom can’t seem to keep his eyes off you tonight. I wonder why... Harry says he is notoriously selective with his partners.” He looked pointedly at Blaise. “Anything going on there? A new conquest on the horizon?” He smirked at the guilty look on his friends face, “Oh! There is something.”
Blaise quickly shook his head, waving one hand to stave off Draco’s assumptions. “No. Nothing like that. I mean...a bit of a snog earlier, but nothing...certain.” He sighed, realizing for once he couldn’t explain himself to his oldest friend. “I don’t know. He’s certainly different from my usual type of bloke. Can’t imagine why he keeps staring though. If he is as picky as Harry says, why would he ever bother with me?”
Draco reached across to grip his friend’s hand as he replied fervently, “For lots of reasons. Don’t sell yourself short. Being with Harry, I’ve spent plenty of time around Neville. He is quieter than most, more private, but he is unfailingly good and kind. He’s a decent man, Blaise. If he’s interested, he’s worth taking a risk for.”
Blaise’s eyes widened at Draco’s words. A risk is exactly what he would be taking with someone like Neville. He just wasn’t certain he had the courage.
Nodding his head, Blaise replied. “Yeah...maybe.”
Draco smiled, squeezing his friend’s fingers before standing. “Can’t keep the other guests waiting when it’s my party, now can I?”
Blaise smiled, shaking his head in agreement.
“Besides,” the blond chuckled, “I believe I am past due for a snog with my fiancé.” He waved as he left the kitchen.
A few moments later, Blaise could hear the combination of ‘awws’ and cat calls that meant Draco had found Harry. He smiled as he rose to rejoin the party himself, not surprised to find Neville’s gaze turning his way once he entered the room. He pushed the man out of his mind, knowing there was nothing he could do until Longbottom made a decision.
{*} {*} {*}
By the end of the party, Neville was almost certain that Blaise did in fact need a man like him. He suspected he also knew the actual cause for the dark man’s string of one-night stands. The challenge would be getting him to open up and allow Neville to help. Regardless of the challenge, he had plans for the handsome Slytherin.
When he saw Blaise preparing to leave, he made his own hasty farewells, making sure he was right behind the darkly handsome man when he stepped outside. The rain had picked up again, prompting a groan from Zabini.
Neville stepped out into the rain and started walking. Turning to look at Blaise, he said, “Well, we’re leaving now, not as if we have to worry about getting wet, yeah.”
He shrugged his shoulder and gave a slight tilt of his head, inviting Blaise to walk with him as he began to move away. Neville couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face when he heard the splash of footsteps catching up.
They plodded silently through the rain until they reached the apparition point. Neville turned, catching the wary gaze of the Slytherin before he held out his hand. “Are you coming?”
Guess Longbottom has made his decision. Blaise glanced at the offered hand then back at Longbottom’s expectant expression. Now, it’s up to me...but what should I do?
He glanced over to their doorway shelter from earlier, recalling the sensations this particular Gryffindor stirred within him. He was terrified of facing a night alone with this man, but it was high time he took a chance on someone who just might last.
Blaise accepted Neville’s hand and stepped closer to him, both men Disapparating with a loud crack.
{*} {*} {*}
They arrived in the warm, well-appointed parlor of Neville’s family home. His Gran had passed only a few years ago, and he had inherited the stately old townhome. It spoke of old money and family history, and he loved it.
After they had both spelled themselves dry, Neville offered Blaise one of the leather armchairs near the cozy fire while he got them both a drink. He returned to stand at the Slytherin’s shoulder, just until Blaise looked up at him with uncertainty. Handing him his drink, Neville gave his shoulder a firm squeeze before he took his own seat, ready for the challenge ahead.
“Why did you decide...to pick me?” Blaise couldn’t help being curious after all.
Neville took his time answering, sipping his drink slowly while looking the other man over. When Blaise began to shift awkwardly in his seat, he spoke, “Various reasons.” He looked into the fire for a moment before continuing, “Some of them I’m not sure I can tell you just yet... I suppose you could say that my observation of you tonight convinced me that we might be a good fit.”
Blaise smirked, “Is that Gryffindor speak for I looked hot? Is this the foreplay then?”
Neville gave a small smile in return but remained undeterred. “Your looks were a given long before tonight, Blaise. My observation was another matter entirely. And this is not foreplay. This is you deciding if you can bring yourself to trust me before we proceed any further.”
Blaise felt his mouth go dry. Bringing his drink to his lips, he swallowed a good slug before he could speak. That odd feeling was back again; the feeling Neville caused earlier, something between uncomfortable and excited. “Trust you with what?” he managed to spit out after a long moment.
Neville’s eyes narrowed, and a knowing smile grew. “Everything,” he stated simply. “I would like you to tell me about your scars.”
All at once, Blaise’s countenance darkened; he stood, setting his glass down sharply on an end table. “Thank you for the drink, but I believe we have wasted enough of each other’s time. I’ll just be going now.” He turned to leave... He meant to go...but Neville’s voice called out softly.
“Blaise, you need to let someone in besides Draco.”
The Slytherin huffed. He had tried, and every time, it had ended in disaster. He took another step forward, stopping when Draco’s voice echoed in his mind. He is worth taking the risk over. Blaise’s heart began to beat faster, and he felt short of breath. He recognized the anxious feeling.
Relaxing his shoulders and getting control of his breathing, he put all his cards on the table. “My father.”
At this point, Blaise couldn’t stand the resurgence of his nerves, but in a soft voice, he forced himself to go on. “I don’t know how you found out. How you could possibly know about the scars... but it was my father. He did it… on the day of the Battle.”
He never heard Neville move, but suddenly there was the warmth of a large palm pressed into his back and a gentle voice in his ear said, “Come sit down, Blaise. I’ll get you a fresh drink and we can talk about it.”
Blaise had never wanted to talk about it, but Neville’s manner made it easier somehow. He did as he was told, Neville’s comforting hand guiding him back to his chair.
Soon a fresh Firewhisky was pressed into his hand and Neville, after drawing his own chair closer, returned to his seat.
When Blaise hesitated to start, Neville got the ball rolling. “I saw them earlier,” at the Slytherin’s startled and puzzled expression, he hurried on, “through your wet shirt.
The dark brown head bobbed in understanding. It made sense of course. If he had noticed, he would have pulled his coat and jacket closed self-consciously. The Slytherin was not in the habit of showing his scars to anyone.
“I am fairly certain I already know which curse caused them,” Neville continued, after he let Blaise process what he had said, “What I want to know is why, and I want to hear the whole story.”
Blaise forced himself to relax back into his chair and start from the beginning.
“During the last year of the war, Draco and I had growing doubts about the Dark Lord’s plans, but we didn’t act. When we saw Harry dead, we believed all hope was gone. And then, Harry leapt from Hagrid’s arms...a-alive; it was only a moment before we knew we would fight with him.”
He paused, glancing up to see how Longbottom was taking his story. Receiving only an encouraging nod and smile, he continued, “My father, you see, was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. He followed him with all the fervor of a religious zealot and expected his family to do the same.
“He saw me turn and fight beside Draco, fight against the Death Eaters...fight against him. I had no idea how much rage filled him at my betrayal.”
Pausing again to take a healthy swig of whiskey and a deep breath, he didn’t notice the tremor in his hand, until Neville’s hand reached out to still his fingers. He glanced up, genuine gratitude clear on his face over the simple gesture that helped ground him. Most of the men he had dated were uncomfortable with any vulnerability, but Neville simply accepted it and waited for him to continue.
“When Harry killed the Dark Lord, when the Death Eaters began to flee and chaos reigned, my father found me. Needless to say, he punished me for my…my crime. He said he no longer had a son, and he would not see a traitorous poof live to besmirch his name. Then he cursed me.”
“He could have just killed me...but he wanted me to suffer. Every Death Eater had been taught the Sectumsempra curse at Voldemort’s order. My father,” he mirthlessly laughed, “left me there, bleeding to death atop the rubble at the base of the school.”
Neville was still there, still listening, still holding his fingers in his large hand. Blaise choked off his irrational giggle of pleasure and downed the rest of his drink. “I would be dead if it weren’t for Draco. He knew the healing spell since Snape had used it on him. The only problem was that my father’s curse was fueled with far more hatred and loathing than Harry’s accidental curse against Draco. He was able to keep me alive but couldn’t minimize the scarring.
“After school, Draco and his family took me in. I lived there until I got established.”
He paused once more, chuckling to himself before meeting Neville’s gaze. “Do you know I still inherited my father’s estate when he died in Azkaban? Everything! The crazy fool thought he had killed me, so he never changed his will. I’m actually running my family’s estate and business interests despite my own father trying to end my life. I find comfort in that thought; a sort of poetic justice, you know what I mean?” Blaise barely waited for a nod from his host before finishing.
“My mum...she’s still alive. It’s just been hard to reconnect...after everything with Father.”
Now that he was finished, his brow furrowed suddenly, and he looked at Neville strangely. “I have never told anyone what happened to me. Draco only knows because he was there. I...I don’t understand...why you?”
Blaise glanced away, trying to control the sudden feeling of panic. Just telling the story had made him anxious, made him feel like he should run from this situation...hide himself from the inevitable fallout. His thoughts were promptly derailed by the Gryffindor’s next move.
Neville leaned forward, kissing Blaise softly yet possessively. “Because I understand what you need, and you needed to tell your story. It’s as simple as that.”
Blaise shook his head, “I still don’t get it.”
Neville stood, taking the empty glass from the Slytherin’s hand and placing it on a silver tray next to his. “You will.” He offered his hand. “I think we can go upstairs now.”
He hadn’t gone wrong with Longbottom so far, Blaise thought. With only a moment of hesitation, he took the offered hand and let Neville Longbottom guide him upstairs to his bedroom.
{*} {*} {*}
Neville’s bedroom was a surprise to Blaise. It was dark with well-polished, antique furnishings, in colors of rich burgundy, midnight black, and charcoal grey. It was remarkably sophisticated for the nervous bumbler Blaise remembered from their school days.
He looked at Neville, really looked, beginning to see the man he had become. This was certainly not going the way his usual seductions did, and he was at a loss as to what to do next.
Neville didn't have the same problem. He led the Slytherin over to the side of his bed before sitting and pulling the dark beauty between his thighs. Resting his hands on lean hips, he said, “Just so we’re clear. I am not like the other men you have been with; I prefer to be in control.” His expression, dark with repressed passion, made Blaise shudder involuntarily. “Control of everything, Blaise. Of you, your pleasure...your care. I can take you apart in ways you’ve never imagined... You only have to trust me, submit to me. Allow me to have control and give you what you need; what you’ve been missing for so long.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Longbottom,” Blaise replied, trying to protect himself and divert such intense attention out of long ingrained habit. “I don’t just give it up because a man says so. Besides, I prefer to top.”
“No. You don’t.”
The Slytherin was truly startled by the statement, debating what to say next, but Neville took charge once again. “You don’t like to top; you’ve made yourself top...because of these.” He allowed his hand to rest over the muscled chest, still covered by a lavender shirt. He reached up to begin unbuttoning the shirt, only to be stopped by a dark hand covering his.
Blaise’s soft voice pleaded, “Please, don’t.” He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Neville, to let him see the vulnerability in his eyes.
Neville was undeterred. Slowly removing Blaise’s hand, he moved to the second button as he spoke again. “I believe I told you that I take what I want.” He unbuttoned the third button, “Now, I’m going to take...you, and you’re going to let me. I would even wager you will give yourself to me.” He was positively leering at the stunned man before him.
Blaise sputtered and scoffed, “What makes you think…? Why do you assume…?” He sucked in a deep breath, bringing himself under control. Leveling his gaze at the arrogant Gryffindor in front of him, he spoke pointedly. “What makes you think that, Longbottom?”
Neville only chuckled as the next button popped free. “Because I have watched you all night.” He motioned for Blaise to lean down, and when he did, that low voice whispered in his ear. “I’ve seen the mask you put on; I’ve seen what’s behind it when you let it fall.”
The Gryffindor heard a sharp intake of breath as Blaise straightened but didn’t look up from his task. “You’re comfortable around Draco, relax when he dominates the conversation, yield to his choices.” He did look up then, “You’ve always been that way around Draco, even in school. Always the dutiful follower, never the leader.”
He returned his attention to the few remaining buttons. “When you are approached by other men, the mask is in place as you flirt and carry on-but your body betrays you. You unconsciously hunch your shoulders in slightly. You lower your eyes or tilt your head down. Your body wants to submit to men you view as stronger or more powerful than you, even as you force yourself to be the dominant pursuer. It’s no wonder you need breaks during social gatherings; you’re exhausting yourself, trying to deny your own tendencies...and what you need.”
For a long moment, Blaise just stared at the man. Never had anyone been able to see through him, to see the truth. The fact that Neville did and could, terrified him as much as it excited him. Yet, he tried to stick to his proverbial guns. “T-That proves nothing. I see no basis for your assumptions.”
Neville smirked up at the nervous Slytherin. “Really? I can give you a few more examples if you like.”
With a curt nod from his guest, a smile spread across his face. “How about the fact that during the last five minutes you haven’t once attempted to stop me? Haven’t even attempted to simply walk out. When I made my position clear and you knew my expectations, you could have left at any time. I’m not holding you...don’t have you bound.”
“But truly the most damning evidence in my favor is your utter lack of protest to being stripped by me.” He had deftly unfastened Blaise’s trousers as he talked. Sliding his hands into the back of his pants, Neville eased both the garments down. Smoothing his palms over taut buttocks, he bared a rather impressive erection. The Gryffindor positively beamed, “And let’s not forget your rather obvious arousal over me being in control.” He wrapped one hand around the swollen member and began to stroke languidly, enough pressure to tease but not enough to relieve the tension Blaise was feeling.
A small moan escaped the Slytherin’s throat as he struggled not to whine needily, however, he wasn’t sure he succeeded. He could only look at the hand stroking his cock and marvel at the man it belonged to. No one had ever even suspected his submissive nature, but Neville had figured it out in one evening. The Gryffindor was spot on, and he wanted nothing more than to give him whatever he wanted.
When no further protestations seemed to be forthcoming, Neville tightened his hand around the darkly flushed cock to get Blaise’s attention. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.
The Slytherin froze. He had spent years hiding himself, not letting others get too close, curbing any chance his dalliances had of seeing his chest, after one too many bad experiences. Could he bring himself to willingly show his body now?
Once again, the Gryffindor appeared to know precisely what was on his mind. Neville raised his free hand until it rested in the middle of Blaise’s chest, just under the opened edges of the unbuttoned shirt. He felt a hitch in the man’s breathing as he touched him but carried on as if nothing had happened.
“These,” he let his thumb lightly trace the ragged outline of one scar, “do not bother me, Blaise. Do you understand? This is not the sum total of you as a man; there is so much more I wish to experience with you, but it will require you freeing yourself from this shirt.” Neville could feel the heart racing beneath his fingers.
The Gryffindor narrowed his eyes shrewdly and asked, “When was the last time you bottomed for anyone?”
Blaise blinked in surprise and answered the question without thinking. “Before.” He waved one hand towards himself in explanation.
Neville nodded, having expected as much. “You made yourself top.” Blaise glanced away, still shaken by the clarity with which Neville saw him. “You became the aggressor so that you could control sexual situations...control what others saw. You topped from behind, so they wouldn’t be able to see you. I suspect you’ve exaggerated the number of ‘conquests’ you’ve had, as well. Your reputation...earned from the way you disappear afterwards, rather than risk discovery with further intimacies. That is not going to happen tonight.”
Blaise was going to hyperventilate; he just knew it. It simply wasn’t possible. “How do you...? How can you possibly know! Draco has known me for years and even he only suspects.” He was stunned, but not afraid.
Longbottom smiled. “I’m a man of many skills, surprisingly. I enjoy being a dominant and have learned to recognize a submissive in need. I can give you what you want...what you need. You only have to trust me.”
Blaise stared at the man sitting before him, his hands still pressed to his chest and around his cock. He wasn’t ready, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Casting about for any reason to stall he asked, “Couldn’t we turn out the lights? Just this once?” Neville understood but was not backing down, slowly shaking his head as he waited patiently.
After a long moment, the Slytherin slowly reached up, slipping his shirt carefully off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor behind him. He kept his eyes averted from Neville’s, afraid to see the reaction he had become so familiar with in the past.
The Gryffindor merely nodded in approval. “Good. That’s good. Step out of your trousers and pants, then I want you to lie on the bed. Shoes and socks too, of course.”
Blaise quickly did as instructed, Neville rising from the bed so he could take his place. Lying down expectantly, he waited for his next instruction.
Neville leaned over him, letting his right hand ghost down Blaise’s dark throat, over his scarred but sculpted pecs and abs, to the thick thatch of curls and waiting shaft. “You are a bloody gorgeous man, Blaise Zabini. And if I have my way about it, you’ll be mine.” He smirked as the cock beneath his hand twitched in response to his words. He kissed the Slytherin fiercely before standing back abruptly. “I want to watch you touch yourself while I undress. Pleasure yourself now, I might not allow it later.”
Blaise was certain he did whine that time. He dutifully licked his palm and reached for his cock, spreading the moisture leaking from his slit to ease the way and stroking steadily as he watched Neville undress. His previous assessment in the darkened doorway with only streetlights to go by, or even across the room at the party, did not do justice to the powerful physique being bared to him now. Blaise licked his lips as the Gryffindor reached for his own trousers, having to close his eyes and grip the base of his cock tightly just to get his libido under control. Neville’s cock was gloriously big, long and thick. The Slytherin could imagine the weight of it on his tongue or the sensation of it filling him already, and he hadn’t even gotten to touch it yet. He had completely forgotten about his scars under Neville’s intense, heated stare. Swallowing thickly, he resumed the movement of his hand, temporarily without danger of imminent release.
When he was naked, Neville climbed onto the bed, draping himself over Blaise, slotting his thighs in between the readily spread legs and letting their weeping erections rub together. He smirked as those long dark legs instinctively wrapped around his hips but made no move to thrust against the man beneath him.
He slid one hand behind the curly head and kissed Blaise deeply, enjoying and returning the low moan he elicited. “Tonight is about you and for you. Unless I tell you otherwise, you only have to lay back and let me please you.”
Once Neville got a shaky nod in reply, he began in earnest. He kissed the strong jaw, nipping and sucking until he reached an ear. Licking around the shell, he flicked his tongue into the well of the ear before sucking hard on the earlobe. He heard a soft gasp and moan as hips bucked up against him.
“Only the beginning,” he promised, continuing down to Blaise’s throat, sucking hard until he left a mark at its base next to the collarbone. With a sharp bite over his mark, he moved on, reaching the scarred chest. He pinned Blaise’s wrists to the bed on either side of his body, not trusting him to keep them to himself and not interfere with what he knew must be done. He took his time, mapping every scar with his lips and tongue, worshiping the man beneath the marred flesh and kissing away unpleasant memories.
Blaise had frozen when Neville reached his chest, then he had nervously tried to twist away from the searing affection and intimacy but his movements were hampered by the firm body over him. Finally, he accepted the tenderness being shown him and went still as tears began to trickle down his cheeks.
Neville knew the affect he was having on the wounded Slytherin, wounded in mind as well as in body. He knew without asking that Blaise had not received real physical affection in many years. That no one had taken the time to make love to this beautiful man. He let the dark beauty come apart beneath him and didn’t comment, merely continuing to lavish his attention on his ravishing prize. Releasing his hold on the wrists and moving on to the weeping shaft, he licked the length of Blaise’s cock, before taking him deep in his mouth and sucking hard, enjoying the resulting loud cry and thrust of hips. Knowing it had been a long time for his new partner, Neville whispered a spell and began the work of preparation, quickly circling the tight, puckered entrance before pushing a finger in. It had been quite a while since the dominant had a partner that meshed so well with his need to control as much as care, and he wasn’t certain how long he’d be able to last.
Blaise was drowning in sensation and emotion. Once he had given up resisting Neville’s tenderness and submitted fully, it had been one jolt of pleasure after another, each feeding into the emotional upheaval he was undergoing. He moaned softly as Neville began to prepare him, desperately looking forward to being filled by this remarkable man.
The Slytherin could hardly believe that before tonight, he had discounted Neville to such a degree, when he appeared to be exactly what he needed and wanted in a partner.
By the time Neville spread him wide and began to push inside, he could not stop the tears of happiness...of release. He turned his head to the side, attempting to hide himself.
Neville pushed forward until he bottomed out, enjoying the sight of his cock buried in the tight arse below him. He saw what Blaise was trying to do and wouldn’t allow such behavior. He leaned forward, pushing the Slytherin’s knees up towards his chest and sinking deeper to mutual groans of pleasure. He pulled Blaise’s arms up over his head and pinned them together with his left hand wrapped around the joined wrists. With his right, he gripped the stubborn chin and guided the tear stained face to look at him. “You will not hide from me, Blaise. Let me see. Let me see everything.”
Holding his lover’s dark gaze, he slowly eased out and pushed back in. Neville leaned in to taste the willing mouth once more as he continued to slowly fuck his new submissive.
When he knew he was getting close and the frantic sounds against his lips indicated the same for his partner, Neville released those swollen lips and drew back to better see the effect he was having on the man below him. He moved his hand down from Blaise’s chin to wrap around the base of his throat.
“You are going to count out loud to ten while I fuck you good and hard. Once you reach ten, only then, do you have my permission to cum. Do you understand?” Blaise’s eyes fell closed and he bit his lower lip sharply as he whined and nodded eagerly. Neville positively leered as he spoke again. “Very good. You may begin now.”
“One.”
The dominant Gryffindor held him pinned, watching every emotion, every reaction flicker across the face before him as he began to pound his cock deep into the willing arse.
“Two.”
Wanting to time things just right, Neville changed the angle of his thrust, keeping the same pace and depth. He knew when his cock brushed near Blaise’s prostate as the other man released a shuddering breath.
“Three.”
The number dragging out, almost ending on a wail as Blaise whimpered. It was too much and not enough all at once.
“Four.”
The Slytherin whined, each stroke only a glancing tease near the bundle of nerves within him.
“Five.”
Blaise breathlessly arched against his lover, pressing his heels into Neville firm arse, bringing them closer together as he was forcefully fucked. He gasped as Neville began hitting his sweet spot straight on. He could feel the tautness of the muscles moving between his thighs as his own arousal churned fiercely.
“S-Six.”
He could barely recognize his own voice as he rasped and croaked out each number; his need for release building exponentially with each word and gasping breath in between.
“S-Sev-Seven,” he sobbed out the end of the number.
As the submissive Slytherin moaned, Neville gave him a quick peck to get his attention and slowly lifted his head, keeping eye contact. “Feel me.”
“E-Eight,” the word came out as a shaky gasp.
Restrained by his wrists and throat, being taken roughly by this amazing man, Blaise realised at last what he had always hoped for but never found...until now.
“Nine...” His orgasm was hovering just on the brink, ready to tip him over into oblivion.
He barely noticed he had reached ten, and couldn’t stop his smile when Neville whispered, “Come with me,” realizing that, even with earlier permission, he had still been waiting for him...wanting to be able to cum together.
Three more sharp thrusts and he cried out, coming in ragged spurts between them, even as he felt the pulse of hot cum inside him.
Neville stayed buried deep within him, releasing his holds and leaning forward to kiss him tenderly. Utterly sated and feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a long time, Blaise wrapped his arms around Neville’s back and pulled him closer, placing soft kisses to his throat, shoulder, neck...anywhere he could reach.
Neville appreciating the show of warmth, smiled, “That was brilliant. And you...you were amazing.”
“I did nothing.” The Slytherin replied in confusion.
“You did everything. You trusted me.”
Blaise had nothing to say to that, so they lay wrapped together until Neville softened and slipped out. When the Gryffindor rose, Blaise dutifully followed him into the shower, allowing himself to be cared for, washed and pampered before being taken back to bed. With Neville spooned against him and the lights out, he slept peacefully while rain continued to fall outside.
{*} {*} {*}
Blaise awoke desperate for the loo. He slid out of bed as quickly as he could, grabbing his shirt off the floor out of habit and throwing it on as he went to relieve himself. When he returned, he was surprised to find Neville propped up on his elbow, watching him.
“Trying to make your getaway?”
“No, I just needed the loo, you daft bugger.” Blaise walked towards the bed, assessing his lover’s mood.
“Hmm...I don’t recall telling you that you could get dressed. In fact I would very much prefer seeing you naked at every opportunity.” Neville smiled and lay back against the pillows with his hands behind his head, before thrusting his chin at the partially covered man. “Take it off and get over here.”
Blaise laughed as he stripped off the shirt without a shred of insecurity and made his way over to the bed. When he reached Neville’s side, he was startled by a hand grabbing his arm and yanking him onto the bed and over the prominent morning erection of his new lover.
The barest flicker of amusement passed between them, before Neville spoke, his voice already husky with passion. “Ride me.”
Blaise swallowed thickly as his own arousal quickly spiked, obediently straddling his lover and sinking himself smoothly onto the gratifying thickness of Neville’s cock. Both of them groaning softly as he began to rise and fall along the lengthy shaft. One of Neville’s hands reached up and reverently touched the scars on the body moving above him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured softly.
Blaise, blushed at the praise and attention ducking his head momentarily, hardly believing he was able to suddenly feel bashful while riding and fucking himself atop his lover. Realizing that, Neville was momentarily speechless, soon directing the conversation to something safer.
“Just so you’re aware, you should plan on a thorough rogering every morning.”
Blaise smirked as he shifted a bit, spreading his knees wider to allow him to sink more deeply over his lover’s cock, moaning as the massive shaft filled him over and over, stroking his prostate just right. He absently thought that he might never have to touch his own cock again in order to cum, if this was the way Neville would always fuck him.
The Slytherin finally gathered his wits to reply, “Oh, really?” It was the best he could come up with given the current circumstances.
With a little smile, Neville just nodded, “Certainly. Best way to start the day.” He was quiet for a few minutes just enjoying the push and pull of his cock in Blaise’s tight, hot arse before he spoke again. “When do you think you’ll want to move in?”
Blaise looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “What! We’ve only just hooked up. You. Are. Currently, fucking me, and you want to ask something like that? Are you barmy?”
Neville pushed up into him sharply and quickened the pace as he chuckled. “No better time than the present. Besides,” he thrust hard and deep into his partner once again to a resounding cry of pleasure, “I’ve sort of got a captive audience at the moment. And no, not nearly barmy enough, actually.”
He dropped the topic as his pace increased, and they both quickly approached orgasm. Only when they were sweaty and covered with cum did Neville ask again. “So what do you think?”
Blaise just shook his head, “Are you serious?”
Neville shrugged, absently stroking the smooth dark skin of his lover’s back as the man was now draped over his chest.
“Why not?” the Gryffindor innocently asked, “How else am I going to fuck you any time I want, over every surface I own?”
Blaise couldn’t resist the crazed fool, but instead of answering, he grabbed a pillow and swatted his lover. “You’re one mad bastard.”
Neville only laughed and grabbed his own pillow. They were soon engaged in a naked pillow fight while Blaise tried to remember the last time he had laughed in bed with a man.
One thing he could say for sure, life with a Gryffindor would certainly be interesting.
{*} {*} {*}
They did move in together, three months later. With Neville’s attention, affection, and support, Blaise became a powerful businessman in his own right. He was able to battle any hardass who came his way in the board room, as well as let himself be vulnerable and surrender that power at home.
When Neville proposed two years later, he had no qualms accepting the man he had come to love in a way he had long doubted he ever would.
They had their bonding ceremony in the garden of their townhome with their closest friends and family in attendance, Draco and Harry happily standing up as their best men. The weather was pleasant all through the ceremony, but as they moved on to the reception, clouds began to roll in.
The couple and their guests were too happy and jubilant to pay much attention, until the rain began to fall, sending people scurrying for the house or the gazebo.
Blaise stood under the eaves of the gazebo, looking out at the rain as the house elves scurried to move the rest of the reception indoors. Neville stepped up beside him, wrapping one arm around his waist. They both looked out at the rain, then at each other, remembering the night that had led them to this moment.
Neville grinned as he stepped out into the rain, bowing low and offering his hand to his husband. “I believe a first dance is traditional at these affairs, would you care to join me?”
Blaise smiled as he too stepped out into the rain. “You are correct, love.”
The freshly married Gryffindor nodded sagely, “I normally am; you know.” This earned him a playful smack on the arse before they began to dance.
When the guests began to miss the happy couple and went looking, they were surprised to find them in each other’s arms, soaking wet and waltzing away in the rain. While most thought that it was oddly sweet, they simply couldn’t understand why the couple were laughing merrily with each other.
{*} {*} {*}