Fic: Getting To Know You for Shiftylinguini's Birthday
Title: Getting To Know You
Pairing: Harry/Teddy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:~3k
Warnings: godfather/godson, age difference, slightly dub-con, disguised identities, heavily implied switching, anal sex, rather stalkerish behaviour.
Summary: Teddy knows that he and Harry are meant to be, he just needs to help Harry realise it.
A/N: Present for![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shiftylinguini ! HAPPY belated BIRTHDAY, NOODLE! =D
Also on AO3
Tonight’s the night, I’m sure of it. I’ve got butterflies, and I feel a little sick. We’ve split the bill and part of me wants to say a polite goodnight and go home, but I’ve worked too hard for this to give up now.
A little harmless flirting around the house after I came out to him made it painfully obvious that he saw an uncrossable line between us. Many lines, in fact. Some parallel, some overlapping. There was the age difference, his loyalty to my father and, of course, his godfather status. Those were the biggies.
Thing is, it was already too late by then. I’d tried to deny the attraction, my feelings towards him at first. Of course I had. For the most part, I never thought he’d want me. As if someone like him would want a great gangly over-sized orphan with attachment issues. He’s so… Well. He’s Harry Fucking Potter. How could I ever be good enough?
I couldn’t, obviously. Not as I am. If he was going to give me the time of day, I had to make myself better. More what he needs. He just needed to see who I really am, who I can be to him, what I can do for him. It’s working. He’s starting to fall for me.
Well, for Tyler.
It took a while to settle on Tyler. At first I tried too hard. Too handsome, too perfect, too confident. Harry — or Henry as he was selling himself, in hopes of blending in — wasn’t interested. When I put in the imperfections, that’s when he started to take notice. The odd scar, or mole, the wrong shoes or coat for the rest of my outfit. He’d let me buy him a drink, maybe even chat for a while. There was something missing, though. He was happy enough talking, a little teasing, a bit of casual touching, but he never seemed to want to take it further. I thought perhaps he’s just not looking for casual fucks, trying to forge a deeper connection or whatever bollocks. Then, I found out that Saturday wasn’t the only night of the week that Harry regularly went out.
Thursdays, that was his pulling day and not to the pub this time, but a seedy, grotty little bar-cum-club down a Camden backstreet. In the pub I’d always played someone more Harry’s own age. It’s a bit of a wrinkle room, so I figured that as he frequents the place, it must be what he’s after. But in this bar, they were a lot younger. It gave me a new hope. I made a new character and just watched him for a few months, noticed the kind of guys he chose. I even took a few of them home myself, to try and get an idea of what he was into. They were a real mix; tops, bottoms, switchers, vanilla, kinky, hinky. I managed to persuade a few of them to dish the dirt, but I never felt as if I was learning enough. The research certainly had it’s own merits though, if you know what I mean. I started to pick up on the common characteristics, trying to latch onto that whatever-it-was that he always looked for.
And that’s how Tyler was born. He walked into the pub packed with older men, looking only a little unsure of himself, and everyone took notice. I didn’t want to approach Harry at the club, there was too much competition. I needed to stand out, offer him something different. Tyler’s tall, quietly confident, cheerful, polite and a bit ropey looking. Basically, he’s me without the complicated baggage. And Harry likes him.
Talking and flirting with Harry wearing Tyler’s face felt different. He seemed more interested, more invested in the conversations. I didn’t go as Tyler every week. Sometimes I watched him from behind a different mask, saw him look up hopefully every time the door opened, only to be disappointed. He started asking me if I would be coming next week, and I knew I was onto something.
Turns out I was right, because last week he asked me out. And now here we are, leaving this little bamboo-clad Taiwanese restaurant that he picked out.
“Not a bad little place?” he asks me, leading the way down the street, under the strings of red lanterns. We turn the corner, out of Chinatown.
“The food’s great, there’s just so much of it. I could quite happily have a nap now,” I smile, making sure the back of my hand brushes against his as we walk.
“Oh,” he says, sounding a little disappointed. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go somewhere for a drink, but if you’re tired—”
“I’m not that tired,” I interrupt maybe a little too quickly and he suppresses a chuckle.
“A drink, then?” He’s slowed down to a stop, nodding towards the pub we’ve just passed. It’s packed.
“It’ll probably take us an hour to get served.” Fuck it, I don’t want to end up somewhere crowded where we can’t even hear each other speak, but it’s Saturday night in central London. Everywhere’s going to be packed. If I don’t make a suggestion, he’s going to think I really do want to go home and I’m just too polite to say so. I can only think of one alternative under this pressure. “Anyway, I’m not in the mood for a pint. I’d rather have a coffee.”
He makes a sort of grimace. “I can’t think of anywhere half-decent that’d be open at this time. Unless…”
“Yeah?”
“Well.” He’s looking nervous, unsure. “Uh, my place has coffee.”
I try to dampen down the stupid grin threatening to creep onto my face. He’s not offering me a hot drink, and we both know it. “Sounds great,” I say, managing to sound almost casual about it. He smiles, looking relieved and starting down the street again.
“Okay, there’s a quiet side street down here, we should be fine to Apparate.”
It’s a bit generous to call this a street. It’s more like an alley between tall, windowless buildings. I follow him round the corner, out of sight of the main road and I’m waiting for him to offer out his arm to side-along me, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at me shrewdly, chewing on his lip like he’s planning something or working something out. It feels uncomfortable and I kind of what to reach for my wand, but this is Harry for fucks sake.
“Alright?” I ask, totally not managing casual this time.
“You don’t like coffee,” he states assuredly.
“No, I don’t,” I smile, because this is it. This is when we cut the bullshit and really start to get somewhere. I didn’t know he knew that I don’t like coffee, actually. Well, obviously he knows it about Teddy, but I didn’t know he knew it about Tyler. We’ve talked so many times now over so many months, though, and I couldn’t even tell you what about. Things have just become that easy between us.
He takes half a step forward, fingers reaching out to brush against mine. I turn my hand a little, staring into his falsely brown eyes, and he sees it for the permission it is, interweaving our fingers and pulling me to him. I close the gap and our lips meet for the first time. He’s not hesitant now. He parts his lips for me and I can taste sticky soy and Chinese beer on his tongue, I can feel his thigh pressing between my legs and fuck, I’m getting hard already. Just from a fucking kiss, like a bloody teenager. He pulls away with a small, contented hum, but when he opens his eyes, he’s looking at me seriously.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This isn’t a one-night thing, right?”
“I hope not.” I try and give him a coy smile, but I’m pretty sure it comes across as pretty nervous. I can only hope it’s endearing.
“And you’re sure about this? About… me?”
I sort of want to slap him. He always gets praised for being so modest and down-to-earth, but it drives me nuts that he still can’t see how fucking amazing he is. I mean, he’s passed forty yet he’s still every bent teenager’s wet dream. But I can’t tell him that, so I grab him by the collar and I kiss him again. I don’t hold back, it’s fierce and a little messy but I want him to see, to feel how much I want this. We’re both a little breathless when I finally let him pull away. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just looking at me, a little stunned.
“That’s a yes, by the way,” I mutter, brushing my lips softly against his, tempting, teasing. He takes hold of my arm and turns. The dimly lit street swirls away and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the brighter light of his living room. I need to remember to act like I haven’t been here before, so I give a look around the room, trying to seem like I’m actually interested.
“Shall I put the kettle on, then?”
He looks kind of amused as he takes a step towards the kitchen. I know he’s baiting me, but I don’t care. I’m more than happy to be caught. I shove him against the wall, I hope it’s not too rough but his hands are in my hair and he’s grinding his hips against me, so I guess it’s okay. I grab his arse, trying to increase the friction and he moans and, fucking hell, it’s more than okay. I want to hear him moan again. I want to make him scream.
He pushes us away from the wall, turns and we’re in his bedroom, stumbling against each other a little off balance. He shoves my jacket off my shoulders, pops open a few buttons before pulling my shirt straight over my head. I can’t do that to him, I’d send his glasses flying, so I fumble my way through all the buttons. We keep wobbling, teeth clashing as we both try and kick off our shoes while he’s undoing my trousers. He shoves them down and I step out of them but he hesitates, fingers hooked into the elastic of my pants. Something’s going through his head, like doubt or something. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s going to do me any favours to let him dwell on it.
“How do you want to do this?” I mumble, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. “Top or bottom? I’d love to suck you off first.” I run my tongue across his pulse point, teeth grazing lightly. He’s arching and groaning and grabbing at me. He’s so fucking responsive. I love it.
“Do you have a preference?”
“I’m flexible.”
Another thoughtful pause, before he speaks in a husky whisper. “I want you to fuck me.”
I don’t need asking twice. I’ve already undone his belt and now he’s struggling to step out of his trousers as I steer him towards the bed. He’s not even wearing pants. Maybe he’s been wanting this as much as I have. He drops down onto the bed, now totally naked, pulling off his glasses and throwing them onto the bedside table. I shove my pants off and join him, kneeling between his spread legs. It’s not quite Harry, with the brown eyes, the neat hair and, of course, no scar. But I’m pretty sure it’s just the face he’s transfigured, and I know it’s him. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I mean, he’s a little softer around the belly than I expected, but I suppose that comes with the promotion — more paperwork and less time in the field. He’s still slim and tanned, and he’s got a good sized cock. It’s thick and not too long with a slight upward curve. He’d be great to ride, bet he could really hit the spot. But not tonight.
I duck my head down, wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock.
“Don’t,” he says softly, pulling at my shoulders. I go, moving up the bed and letting him kiss me. “I haven’t got the patience tonight. Next time we can go slow, but right now I just want you inside me.”
I feel a shiver down my spine, but I really do want to taste that cock, already slick with precome. “How about I go down on you while I finger you open?”
“Merlin, I didn’t think you’d have such a filthy mouth.” He sounds a little impressed, definitely turned on. He’s kissing me and pulling me by the neck and bucking up to rub his hard cock against my stomach. “But can we just use the spell this time?”
I didn’t think he liked using the spell, not from what I’d been told. It sends a thrill through me, that he’s that desperate for me to be inside him. Well, for Tyler to be, but it’s really best if I don’t dwell on that. Then I might start worrying about what’s going to happen after, and how this could possibly ever work with us both pretending to be someone we’re not.
“If that’s what you want.”
He gives a little gasp and his thighs clench slightly. “Okay, ready.” Hee must’ve cast it wandlessly and wordlessly, the amazing fucking show-off.
He spreads his legs for me and I look down, rubbing my cockhead across his slick pucker. I can’t believe this is really, finally happening. I make myself watch his expression as I slowly sink into him, force myself to keep my eyes open, determined to make this so fucking good for him. His cock’s going soft, but he takes himself in hand, gently coaxing it back to hardness as he breaths through the initial discomfort. He rolls his hips, and I know permission when I see it.
I lean forward, planting a hand either side of his head and testingly roll my own hips. Harry throws his head back and groans, hands coming up to my hips, pulling me deeper. I’m fucking him slow, watching him, savouring him. Pretty sure I’m grazing his prostate on every thrust. I rub my thumb over his nipple, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it so I lean in a little awkwardly, my lips against his neck. He’s definitely into that, his fingers tangling in my hair, breathing becoming more laboured, gasps and moans louder and more frequent.
“Harder, Ted.”
Fucking fuck, what? It took a few seconds for me to realise what he just said, and that he really should have said it. I’m stunned, starting to panic and I just freeze.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, and part of me starts to think that maybe he doesn’t know, maybe it’s not the first time he’s said my name during sex. The louder part of me says that I’m being hopefully idiotic. “Hey, look at me.”
Yup, here comes the apology, the excuses about getting my name ‘wrong’. I stay where I am, face in his neck and cock in his arse, wishing I could just disappear.
“Teddy, please…” And it’s so soft, so caring, so worried, that I sit up. And I look down at green eyes and messy hair and a lighting bolt scar.
“Harry, I—”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off firmly, and I’m really glad in a way because I haven’t got a fucking clue what I was going to say. “Not now, please… Don’t stop, Ted. Just fuck me harder. Please.”
“Fuck, Harry.” And it feels so good to say that, and to see Harry, one-hundred-percent-Harry lying beneath me and begging to be fucked. By me. Not Tyler, me. I don’t know why he wants me, I don’t know why it’s now okay but he’s right, now’s not the time.
I lay over him, propped on my elbows, hands in his hair, kissing his lips and I’m fucking him hard, so hard that his moans are broken by him gasping for air. And he’s muttering things against my lips, my neck, in my ear, about how good it is, how perfect I am, how much he’s wanted me. I don’t want to stop kissing him but I want to watch him, savour every moment, so I push up onto my hands again. He reaches for his cock, wanking himself roughly, teeth biting into his bottom lip, eyes closed. It stings, for a moment, that he doesn’t want to watch me, then I realise.
“Harry,” I breathe out, morphing back to Teddy, dropping the disguise, banishing Tyler. “Harry, look.”
And he opens his eyes. And he gasps, and he moans, and he comes. Fuck, he comes so hard. His fingers are digging painfully into my thigh as his other hand works furiously over his cock, come streaking across both our chests. He’s all stretched out taut and making the most delicious noises and I can’t hold back anymore. I grab his hips, grinding into him hard as I come, flopping down to blindly place kisses wherever I can reach. I think that was a chin, it felt stubbly.
“Wow,” Harry chuckles, throwing his arms around me.
“How long have you known?” I ask, because I’d rather get this over with quickly and he doesn’t seem mad at me. Not right now, anyway. That could change once the high of great sex has worn off.
“You don’t become Head Auror if you can’t recognise when you’re being followed.” I groan, because now I can see how fucking stupid it was to think I could get away with it. “I’ve always known. No matter what face and body you were wearing, there’s still little habits and attributes that are distinctly Teddy.”
I roll to the side, because this can’t be comfortable, and shift up the bed a bit. I keep an arm and a leg flung over him. “So why didn’t you just ignore me, or tell me to piss off?”
Harry sighs. “Because you’re bloody stubborn. I figured the only way was to show you what a bad idea it was. To let you get to know me and show you that we’re not compatible.” He’s right, I’d have just kept trying new faces, new approaches.
I can’t help grinning. “So I see that plan worked out brilliantly for you, then.”
He sighs again, but he’s smiling at me fondly. “Actually, I’d say it did. Bloody brilliantly.”
“Yeah?” He kisses me, and it’s soft and sweet with just a little lingering hint of fire.
“Absolutely.”
And I have to say, I'm inclined to agree.
Fin
Pairing: Harry/Teddy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count:~3k
Warnings: godfather/godson, age difference, slightly dub-con, disguised identities, heavily implied switching, anal sex, rather stalkerish behaviour.
Summary: Teddy knows that he and Harry are meant to be, he just needs to help Harry realise it.
A/N: Present for
shiftylinguini ! HAPPY Also on AO3
Tonight’s the night, I’m sure of it. I’ve got butterflies, and I feel a little sick. We’ve split the bill and part of me wants to say a polite goodnight and go home, but I’ve worked too hard for this to give up now.
A little harmless flirting around the house after I came out to him made it painfully obvious that he saw an uncrossable line between us. Many lines, in fact. Some parallel, some overlapping. There was the age difference, his loyalty to my father and, of course, his godfather status. Those were the biggies.
Thing is, it was already too late by then. I’d tried to deny the attraction, my feelings towards him at first. Of course I had. For the most part, I never thought he’d want me. As if someone like him would want a great gangly over-sized orphan with attachment issues. He’s so… Well. He’s Harry Fucking Potter. How could I ever be good enough?
I couldn’t, obviously. Not as I am. If he was going to give me the time of day, I had to make myself better. More what he needs. He just needed to see who I really am, who I can be to him, what I can do for him. It’s working. He’s starting to fall for me.
Well, for Tyler.
It took a while to settle on Tyler. At first I tried too hard. Too handsome, too perfect, too confident. Harry — or Henry as he was selling himself, in hopes of blending in — wasn’t interested. When I put in the imperfections, that’s when he started to take notice. The odd scar, or mole, the wrong shoes or coat for the rest of my outfit. He’d let me buy him a drink, maybe even chat for a while. There was something missing, though. He was happy enough talking, a little teasing, a bit of casual touching, but he never seemed to want to take it further. I thought perhaps he’s just not looking for casual fucks, trying to forge a deeper connection or whatever bollocks. Then, I found out that Saturday wasn’t the only night of the week that Harry regularly went out.
Thursdays, that was his pulling day and not to the pub this time, but a seedy, grotty little bar-cum-club down a Camden backstreet. In the pub I’d always played someone more Harry’s own age. It’s a bit of a wrinkle room, so I figured that as he frequents the place, it must be what he’s after. But in this bar, they were a lot younger. It gave me a new hope. I made a new character and just watched him for a few months, noticed the kind of guys he chose. I even took a few of them home myself, to try and get an idea of what he was into. They were a real mix; tops, bottoms, switchers, vanilla, kinky, hinky. I managed to persuade a few of them to dish the dirt, but I never felt as if I was learning enough. The research certainly had it’s own merits though, if you know what I mean. I started to pick up on the common characteristics, trying to latch onto that whatever-it-was that he always looked for.
And that’s how Tyler was born. He walked into the pub packed with older men, looking only a little unsure of himself, and everyone took notice. I didn’t want to approach Harry at the club, there was too much competition. I needed to stand out, offer him something different. Tyler’s tall, quietly confident, cheerful, polite and a bit ropey looking. Basically, he’s me without the complicated baggage. And Harry likes him.
Talking and flirting with Harry wearing Tyler’s face felt different. He seemed more interested, more invested in the conversations. I didn’t go as Tyler every week. Sometimes I watched him from behind a different mask, saw him look up hopefully every time the door opened, only to be disappointed. He started asking me if I would be coming next week, and I knew I was onto something.
Turns out I was right, because last week he asked me out. And now here we are, leaving this little bamboo-clad Taiwanese restaurant that he picked out.
“Not a bad little place?” he asks me, leading the way down the street, under the strings of red lanterns. We turn the corner, out of Chinatown.
“The food’s great, there’s just so much of it. I could quite happily have a nap now,” I smile, making sure the back of my hand brushes against his as we walk.
“Oh,” he says, sounding a little disappointed. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go somewhere for a drink, but if you’re tired—”
“I’m not that tired,” I interrupt maybe a little too quickly and he suppresses a chuckle.
“A drink, then?” He’s slowed down to a stop, nodding towards the pub we’ve just passed. It’s packed.
“It’ll probably take us an hour to get served.” Fuck it, I don’t want to end up somewhere crowded where we can’t even hear each other speak, but it’s Saturday night in central London. Everywhere’s going to be packed. If I don’t make a suggestion, he’s going to think I really do want to go home and I’m just too polite to say so. I can only think of one alternative under this pressure. “Anyway, I’m not in the mood for a pint. I’d rather have a coffee.”
He makes a sort of grimace. “I can’t think of anywhere half-decent that’d be open at this time. Unless…”
“Yeah?”
“Well.” He’s looking nervous, unsure. “Uh, my place has coffee.”
I try to dampen down the stupid grin threatening to creep onto my face. He’s not offering me a hot drink, and we both know it. “Sounds great,” I say, managing to sound almost casual about it. He smiles, looking relieved and starting down the street again.
“Okay, there’s a quiet side street down here, we should be fine to Apparate.”
It’s a bit generous to call this a street. It’s more like an alley between tall, windowless buildings. I follow him round the corner, out of sight of the main road and I’m waiting for him to offer out his arm to side-along me, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at me shrewdly, chewing on his lip like he’s planning something or working something out. It feels uncomfortable and I kind of what to reach for my wand, but this is Harry for fucks sake.
“Alright?” I ask, totally not managing casual this time.
“You don’t like coffee,” he states assuredly.
“No, I don’t,” I smile, because this is it. This is when we cut the bullshit and really start to get somewhere. I didn’t know he knew that I don’t like coffee, actually. Well, obviously he knows it about Teddy, but I didn’t know he knew it about Tyler. We’ve talked so many times now over so many months, though, and I couldn’t even tell you what about. Things have just become that easy between us.
He takes half a step forward, fingers reaching out to brush against mine. I turn my hand a little, staring into his falsely brown eyes, and he sees it for the permission it is, interweaving our fingers and pulling me to him. I close the gap and our lips meet for the first time. He’s not hesitant now. He parts his lips for me and I can taste sticky soy and Chinese beer on his tongue, I can feel his thigh pressing between my legs and fuck, I’m getting hard already. Just from a fucking kiss, like a bloody teenager. He pulls away with a small, contented hum, but when he opens his eyes, he’s looking at me seriously.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This isn’t a one-night thing, right?”
“I hope not.” I try and give him a coy smile, but I’m pretty sure it comes across as pretty nervous. I can only hope it’s endearing.
“And you’re sure about this? About… me?”
I sort of want to slap him. He always gets praised for being so modest and down-to-earth, but it drives me nuts that he still can’t see how fucking amazing he is. I mean, he’s passed forty yet he’s still every bent teenager’s wet dream. But I can’t tell him that, so I grab him by the collar and I kiss him again. I don’t hold back, it’s fierce and a little messy but I want him to see, to feel how much I want this. We’re both a little breathless when I finally let him pull away. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just looking at me, a little stunned.
“That’s a yes, by the way,” I mutter, brushing my lips softly against his, tempting, teasing. He takes hold of my arm and turns. The dimly lit street swirls away and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the brighter light of his living room. I need to remember to act like I haven’t been here before, so I give a look around the room, trying to seem like I’m actually interested.
“Shall I put the kettle on, then?”
He looks kind of amused as he takes a step towards the kitchen. I know he’s baiting me, but I don’t care. I’m more than happy to be caught. I shove him against the wall, I hope it’s not too rough but his hands are in my hair and he’s grinding his hips against me, so I guess it’s okay. I grab his arse, trying to increase the friction and he moans and, fucking hell, it’s more than okay. I want to hear him moan again. I want to make him scream.
He pushes us away from the wall, turns and we’re in his bedroom, stumbling against each other a little off balance. He shoves my jacket off my shoulders, pops open a few buttons before pulling my shirt straight over my head. I can’t do that to him, I’d send his glasses flying, so I fumble my way through all the buttons. We keep wobbling, teeth clashing as we both try and kick off our shoes while he’s undoing my trousers. He shoves them down and I step out of them but he hesitates, fingers hooked into the elastic of my pants. Something’s going through his head, like doubt or something. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s going to do me any favours to let him dwell on it.
“How do you want to do this?” I mumble, leaning down to nuzzle against his neck. “Top or bottom? I’d love to suck you off first.” I run my tongue across his pulse point, teeth grazing lightly. He’s arching and groaning and grabbing at me. He’s so fucking responsive. I love it.
“Do you have a preference?”
“I’m flexible.”
Another thoughtful pause, before he speaks in a husky whisper. “I want you to fuck me.”
I don’t need asking twice. I’ve already undone his belt and now he’s struggling to step out of his trousers as I steer him towards the bed. He’s not even wearing pants. Maybe he’s been wanting this as much as I have. He drops down onto the bed, now totally naked, pulling off his glasses and throwing them onto the bedside table. I shove my pants off and join him, kneeling between his spread legs. It’s not quite Harry, with the brown eyes, the neat hair and, of course, no scar. But I’m pretty sure it’s just the face he’s transfigured, and I know it’s him. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I mean, he’s a little softer around the belly than I expected, but I suppose that comes with the promotion — more paperwork and less time in the field. He’s still slim and tanned, and he’s got a good sized cock. It’s thick and not too long with a slight upward curve. He’d be great to ride, bet he could really hit the spot. But not tonight.
I duck my head down, wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock.
“Don’t,” he says softly, pulling at my shoulders. I go, moving up the bed and letting him kiss me. “I haven’t got the patience tonight. Next time we can go slow, but right now I just want you inside me.”
I feel a shiver down my spine, but I really do want to taste that cock, already slick with precome. “How about I go down on you while I finger you open?”
“Merlin, I didn’t think you’d have such a filthy mouth.” He sounds a little impressed, definitely turned on. He’s kissing me and pulling me by the neck and bucking up to rub his hard cock against my stomach. “But can we just use the spell this time?”
I didn’t think he liked using the spell, not from what I’d been told. It sends a thrill through me, that he’s that desperate for me to be inside him. Well, for Tyler to be, but it’s really best if I don’t dwell on that. Then I might start worrying about what’s going to happen after, and how this could possibly ever work with us both pretending to be someone we’re not.
“If that’s what you want.”
He gives a little gasp and his thighs clench slightly. “Okay, ready.” Hee must’ve cast it wandlessly and wordlessly, the amazing fucking show-off.
He spreads his legs for me and I look down, rubbing my cockhead across his slick pucker. I can’t believe this is really, finally happening. I make myself watch his expression as I slowly sink into him, force myself to keep my eyes open, determined to make this so fucking good for him. His cock’s going soft, but he takes himself in hand, gently coaxing it back to hardness as he breaths through the initial discomfort. He rolls his hips, and I know permission when I see it.
I lean forward, planting a hand either side of his head and testingly roll my own hips. Harry throws his head back and groans, hands coming up to my hips, pulling me deeper. I’m fucking him slow, watching him, savouring him. Pretty sure I’m grazing his prostate on every thrust. I rub my thumb over his nipple, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it so I lean in a little awkwardly, my lips against his neck. He’s definitely into that, his fingers tangling in my hair, breathing becoming more laboured, gasps and moans louder and more frequent.
“Harder, Ted.”
Fucking fuck, what? It took a few seconds for me to realise what he just said, and that he really should have said it. I’m stunned, starting to panic and I just freeze.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, and part of me starts to think that maybe he doesn’t know, maybe it’s not the first time he’s said my name during sex. The louder part of me says that I’m being hopefully idiotic. “Hey, look at me.”
Yup, here comes the apology, the excuses about getting my name ‘wrong’. I stay where I am, face in his neck and cock in his arse, wishing I could just disappear.
“Teddy, please…” And it’s so soft, so caring, so worried, that I sit up. And I look down at green eyes and messy hair and a lighting bolt scar.
“Harry, I—”
“Don’t,” he cuts me off firmly, and I’m really glad in a way because I haven’t got a fucking clue what I was going to say. “Not now, please… Don’t stop, Ted. Just fuck me harder. Please.”
“Fuck, Harry.” And it feels so good to say that, and to see Harry, one-hundred-percent-Harry lying beneath me and begging to be fucked. By me. Not Tyler, me. I don’t know why he wants me, I don’t know why it’s now okay but he’s right, now’s not the time.
I lay over him, propped on my elbows, hands in his hair, kissing his lips and I’m fucking him hard, so hard that his moans are broken by him gasping for air. And he’s muttering things against my lips, my neck, in my ear, about how good it is, how perfect I am, how much he’s wanted me. I don’t want to stop kissing him but I want to watch him, savour every moment, so I push up onto my hands again. He reaches for his cock, wanking himself roughly, teeth biting into his bottom lip, eyes closed. It stings, for a moment, that he doesn’t want to watch me, then I realise.
“Harry,” I breathe out, morphing back to Teddy, dropping the disguise, banishing Tyler. “Harry, look.”
And he opens his eyes. And he gasps, and he moans, and he comes. Fuck, he comes so hard. His fingers are digging painfully into my thigh as his other hand works furiously over his cock, come streaking across both our chests. He’s all stretched out taut and making the most delicious noises and I can’t hold back anymore. I grab his hips, grinding into him hard as I come, flopping down to blindly place kisses wherever I can reach. I think that was a chin, it felt stubbly.
“Wow,” Harry chuckles, throwing his arms around me.
“How long have you known?” I ask, because I’d rather get this over with quickly and he doesn’t seem mad at me. Not right now, anyway. That could change once the high of great sex has worn off.
“You don’t become Head Auror if you can’t recognise when you’re being followed.” I groan, because now I can see how fucking stupid it was to think I could get away with it. “I’ve always known. No matter what face and body you were wearing, there’s still little habits and attributes that are distinctly Teddy.”
I roll to the side, because this can’t be comfortable, and shift up the bed a bit. I keep an arm and a leg flung over him. “So why didn’t you just ignore me, or tell me to piss off?”
Harry sighs. “Because you’re bloody stubborn. I figured the only way was to show you what a bad idea it was. To let you get to know me and show you that we’re not compatible.” He’s right, I’d have just kept trying new faces, new approaches.
I can’t help grinning. “So I see that plan worked out brilliantly for you, then.”
He sighs again, but he’s smiling at me fondly. “Actually, I’d say it did. Bloody brilliantly.”
“Yeah?” He kisses me, and it’s soft and sweet with just a little lingering hint of fire.
“Absolutely.”
And I have to say, I'm inclined to agree.
Fin