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Chapter Text

Sweat dropped form Neville’s brow as he levitated the last of the flower delivery into place.

When Pansy asked him to set a scene using only flowers, for her passion photo shoot he wasn’t sure he could deliver. Not everyone got a heady rush from flowers the way he did, but the deep reds and earthy sweet smells that now filled the taped-off corner of the studio was intoxicating.

Pansy had intimidated him at first, her acerbic tone often leaving him feeling unsure and less than confident with his work. They hadn’t been close at school and he wasn’t sure of her motives. But that uncertainty quickly passed as she continued to place orders, send customers his way, sing his praises at high society parties and allowed him to have free reign over at least one set in her quarterly “Pansy Says” editions of Witch Weekly .  

During their repeated seventh year at Hogwarts (dubbed “eighth year” by their fellow classmates), Pansy had ditched her perfect Pure-Blood act and, ever the Slytherin, used her mean girl talents to start turning heads (and quite the profit) in the journalism world. Her (gossip heavy, often crass, never boring) weekly rag, Pansy Says , was an instant guilty pleasure for much of the Hogwarts student base. Pansy would never admit to it, but her sassy stories and small-time photo shoots featuring her fellow eighth-year students helped mend post-war tension and build inter-house unity. Students were either coming together to help Pansy with the magazine or to talk about it. Either way, Pansy Says and all of its style, sex and sass brought light, lust and laughter to the group of broken teenagers.  

Witch Weekly couldn’t offer her a job fast enough. Her monthly “Pansy Says” article grew in popularity quickly and allowed her to climb the ranks inside the successful magazine. Now, at 25, Pansy was Junior Editor and her former article ran four times a year as full-blown issue. Much like her small-time school magazine, each issue was based entirely on a theme and was loaded with articles, interviews and photo shoots that sent witches across Britain rushing to the newsstand to get their hands on the limited copies printed.  

That Neville got to be a small part of that filled him with pride. Not to mention gave him a constant influx of customers and a steady income doing something he loved. But, perhaps most importantly, the working relationship helped forge a friendship between Neville and Pansy that Neville truly cherished. It was strange to think of time when they weren’t friends. But, then, they weren’t the children they once were. 

Neville was no longer awkward and bumbling. Puberty had been kind to Neville and the physical nature of his job left him toned and far from the chubby boy of the past. He was still kind and loyal, but had a quiet confidence that underscored his nerdy love of plants and endeared him to witches and wizards alike. Neville could often be found gracing Witch Weekly’s “Britain’s Most Eligible: Thirty Under Thirty.”  

Pansy, most likely due to her Pure-Blood upbringing, was poised and elegant. But she was far from the uptight, meek Pure-Blood wife she was bred to be. Pansy was stylish, tenacious, fierce and often downright scary. She was no longer pug-faced, nor was she a traditional beauty. But she was striking and used her exotic features to their fullest potential. Pansy knew how to work what she had. 

“Oh, bloody hell! Grab his arse! Kiss his neck! Give me something!” 

The sound of the familiar voice shook him from his musings. Neville followed the voices and the click click of a camera to find Pansy stomping a stiletto-clad foot looking more frustrated than he had ever seen her.

Stepping up behind her, Neville cleared his throat.

“What now?!” Pansy whipped her head around so fast that her normally never moving, black bob swung to cover the anger flashing in her eyes momentary. The magic crackling around her was enough to put his teeth on edge. 

“Oh, Neville, it’s you.” Her face softened upon seeing him. 

“Wow, Pans, good to see you too.” He chuckled.

“Don’t take it personally, she’s in a right foul mood and making it her life’s mission to make sure the rest of us are as well,” came a smooth voice from just over his left shoulder. 

Neville knew that voice as well. That voice had a one-way ticket to his cock. Always had done. The voice of the man who, near single handedly, confirmed Neville’s bisexuality by staring in far too many of Neville’s wank fantasies and wet dreams to count. 

Blaise Zabini. 

Neville bit off the whine that threatened to escape his throat just as Blaise came into view in a perfectly tailored three-piece muggle suit.

Neville sighed. Merlin, did he have to be so bloody fit?  

He handed Pansy a steaming paper mug and turned a smirk on Neville.

Neville swallowed thickly and silently told his dick to stand the fuck down .

“This had better have fire whisky in it, or you’re fired” Pansy snapped. 

“Yes, dear,” Blaise drawled as he turned to Neville and raised his eyebrow as if to say: “See what I mean?”

Neville blushed. He actually fucking blushed. Merlin, help me , he thought.

“You seem a little stressed, Pans,” said Neville.

Blaise snorted.

Pansy snarled, “I’m four days to my photo shoot deadline, two days behind schedule and they’ve sent me bloody monks as models for my passion photo shoot! I should have known! ‘Send me the young and hot ones’ I said. ‘They don’t need experience’ I said.” 

“Hot and young. You do have a type.” Blaise said drily, earning him an icy glare from Pansy.

Neville chuckled. “Oh, come now. It can’t be that bad.”

“Just look!” 

The stage behind Pansy was set up to look like a modern living area. The lighting was perfect and made the space look warm and inviting. The set was casual but still stylish and Neville found himself impressed with the mix of furnishing and charm-work used to set the scene. That is, until, his eyes fell to two men who, he assumed, were supposed to be a couple. Two men sat, straight backed, on the edge of the green leather sofa half-heartedly pawing at one another with their eyes open and following the camera that was click clicking away in front of them. Sure, they were quite fit, but they looked out of place and far more interested in the camera than each other. It was awkward and not at all sexy. Neville’s winced.

“Yikes.” 

“You hear that boys?!? Yikes! That’s the response we’re getting from your riveting performance!” Pansy turned to yell at the monks. 

“And that’s not even the worst of it. This scene is supposed to be mild and flirty. Sort of an underlying passion, if you will. Foreplay! Child’s play! They’ll never be able to pull off the shower tease scene I have mapped out!” 

“Maybe they’re just nervous,” Neville suggested. 

“Ha! This is them looking comfortable together. An hour ago they were trying to make out with a broom’s length between them. Before that they were basically battling for camera time and posing entirely independent of one another. That meaty one on the right was practically making out with the camera . It was hard to watch.” Blaise laughed as Pansy glared at him.  

“Blimey. Do they know they’re suppose to be a couple?”

Pansy dropped her chin to her chest and let loose a long, tortured groan.

“I think we may need to cut our losses on this one, Pans. We will have a new set of fit blokes sent out tomorrow.” Blaise offered. 

“Tomorrow?? I can’t waste another day! No! I need to get these shots in today!” Pansy was starting to sound frantic.

“I know, darling. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m simply saying that, outside of us throwing these two over and hopping on set ourselves, I don’t see how we can make that happen.” Blaise offered in his best, calming tone.

Pansy paused as a wide grin split her face. There was an evil glint in her eye that Neville wasn’t all together sure he liked.

“Neville, dear, care to deliver a little more than some flowers today?” she smirked.

“What?! Me? What do you mean?” Neville spluttered.

“Yes, you. It’s decided. You’re one of my new models,” Pansy said, nodding her head eagerly. 

“Pansy! No! I’m no model!”

“But you are a Gryffindor, yes? Where’s that famed courage you lot are so proud of?”

Blaise chuckled quietly. 

“Okay. Say we throw Longbottom to the wolves. We still need someone to pose with him. You have a camera-ready bloke stashed somewhere I don’t know about?”

“Why, you , of course!” 

It was Blaise’s turn to splutter. “Me??” 

While Blaise and Neville continued to gape, Pansy quickly turned and began shouting orders.

“You. You. Scram! You’ve been replaced! I hope you have a back up career choice! Good riddance! Shanna, scene reset! Philippe, get Neville and Blaise in some quick makeup. They shouldn’t need much; we’re going for natural. Carly, let’s talk wardrobe! Roderick, toss what we’ve got so far and be back in twenty to re-shoot. Let’s make it happen, people!”

Pansy clapped loudly and everyone set into motion at once.

What just happened? Neville thought.

The next twenty minutes flew by in a rush of shouting, makeup, magic, and general chaos. Neville found himself sitting on the green sofa next to Blaise feeling just as awkward as the monk models looked.

He had been allowed to keep his jeans (which were hit with a few quick tailoring charms by Carly, that took them from comfy and greenhouse-friendly to arse-hugging) but was stuffed into a blue fitted T-shirt that he was fairly certain wasn’t anywhere near his size. He was pushed on the couch and told to take off his shoes, relax and look casual.

Relax. Right .  

Blaise, on the other hand, now wore black jeans, complete with strategic holes and frays, a white tee with a deep v-neck and a silver- grey cardigan pushed up to his elbows, bearing delicious looking forearms. 

Carly, the spunky pink-haired wardrobe designer squinted her eyes and leaned back to look them both over appraisingly. She tilted her head to the side as if trying to figure them out.

“Aha! I know!” She sank to the floor in front of Blaise, making him jump, and quickly removed his shiny black baroques and socks, leaving his feet bare. 

“Perfect!” She nodded sharply and disappeared. 

Gods, even his bloody feet were sexy.  

“Okay, boys, let me have it! Casual, laid back, flirty, fun. Passion!” said Pansy as she and the camera-welding wizard, Roderick, joined them on set.

Neville gaped. 

“I-I’m not sure what you’re expecting here, Pansy. I don’t exactly model for a living in case you’d forgotten.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, hands flying as she spoke. 

“You’re a bloody Gryffindor, Neville. Do something brash and bold and sexy. Rawr and all that! You know…”

“When have I ever given you the impression I could be sexy? And we don’t rawr ! What Gryffindors have you be hanging out with?” Neville exclaimed, gobsmacked.

“Neville, darling, work with me please. I need this. I need your help. Witch Weekly sells countless issues because of your abs alone. Channel whatever it is that has half of Wizarding Britain in love with you and give me something I can work with. I don’t beg, Neville, but I am right now. And I know you’re no blushing virgin, so please , help me.” 

Neville groaned.

“You bloody owe me. Big time.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. 

“Yes, fine. Whatever.” 

Blaise raised his eyebrow and spoke dryly.

“Just sit here and look pretty then, shall I?” 

Roderick snorted and shook his head disbelievingly. 

Neville was nervous and not altogether sure how he was going to pull this off. But he knew he had to help Pansy. Let it never be said that I am not willing to do absolutely anything for a friend in need , Neville thought to himself.

“Okay. Okay. We can do this. Lets, um, build a fantasy, yeah? A story? It’ll be easier to play a role than it will be to pose and not even be sure if we’re all on the same page, yeah? We just need a fantasy.”

Blaise shifted and leaned back on the couch throwing one arm over the back. Neville lost all brain function entirely. That man was a bloody fantasy. His bloody fantasy.

Pansy snorted. “What would you know about fantasies, Longbottom?” 

Neville quirked an eyebrow as he looked at his friend.

“I’m a 25-year-old Herbologist who spends most of his time with plants. And when I’m not working with plants, I’m talking about them. And when I’m nervous, I babble about plants. When I babble about plants, I sound like a N.E.W.T. Level Herbology textbook. When I go on dates, I get nervous. Since most people don’t find plant genesis and in-depth discussions on soil types sexy, dates don’t go well for me. If it wasn’t for my right hand and an active imagination, I would be a very sad man,” Neville said dryly.

Pansy threw her head back and cackled. The surprised chuckle beside him reminded him of Blaise’s presence and he felt a hot blush color his cheeks.

Neville shook himself, straightened his shoulders and said: “Well, uh, what about like just every day, normal life, yeah? Don’t you ever just fantasize about having someone every single day? You love someone enough and even drinking tea on the couch with them can be loaded with passion. Probably. At least, I hope. That’s what I want one day.”

Pansy didn’t look convinced.“Passionate, every day, tea drinking? Are all your fantasies so romantic ? Is that a Gryffindor thing?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His face and neck felt like it was on fire. “Oi! You know what I mean! Somebody help me out, here!”

He chanced a look at Blaise to see something strange cross his face. He ducked his blushing face just in time to hear a soft “hmm” from the man. 

His blush only deepened.

“Right. Inspired, Longbottom. Really. Perhaps, a flirty afternoon on the couch. Just a normal day, as you said, but with superfluous touching and lingering looks. Sexual tension disguised as a lazy Sunday.” Blaise said, turning to Neville “that what you had in mind, Neville?”

Neville’s breath caught at the use of his given name. Gods, and the way his name sounded coming out of that beautiful mouth. Look away from that beautiful mouth, Neville! He scolded himself .

“Er, yes. Exactly. Um, thanks.”

Pansy could work with that.

“Perfect! I love it! Let’s give it a go. Blaise, lean back on that side, there. Yes, perfect. But bring your legs up too, sort of straddle Neville. Okay, now, Neville, lean back on his chest yeah? Get comfy. Sunday cuddle and all that.” Pansy clapped her hands together loudly making Neville jump. “Okay! Sit tight boys. Philippe! Final touch ups! Shanna! Props! We need props! You can start shooting some test shots, Roderick.”

“Relax” came the words breathed against his ear. “We need to look comfortable. So get comfortable. Lean into me, I won’t break”

Neville coughed a chuckle and let himself relax against Blaise’s firm chest. 

“I’m not sure I know how to fake this sort of thing. Never been much of an actor, you know? And this isn’t something I exactly have experience with, is it? I spend my Sunday’s breeding plants, not having a cuddle with my fit boyfriend. I’m worse than the monk models. Merlin, I practically am a monk!” 

Neville finished his rant with a low groan, letting his body sag back into the man behind him. He could feel the warm laugh bloom in Blaise’s chest, rumbling against his back, before it escaped to dance warmly through his hair. Blaise’s laugh was warmer than his tropical greenhouse and it settled around him deliciously. His stomach did a funny flip at the sound. 

“I’m quite sure you’re exaggerating. I have it on pretty good authority that half of Wizarding Britain is in love with you and your abs.” 

Neville’s breath flew from his lips in a surprise laugh, only to be sucked back in. Blaise let one hand fall over his shoulder to land on his chest while the other snuck under the hem of his shirt to settle on the space just above the waistband of his jeans. He couldn’t help but squirm and turn his head slightly to look up at Blaise.

Neville was lost.

“Yes! Perfect, gentlemen! The chemistry! I feel it! Absolutely perfect! Pansy, you’ve got to see this shot!” Roderick screamed, breaking the spell.

Pansy’s eyebrows rose sharply as she looked from the camera-viewing screen to the two men on the couch; her lips quirked into a knowing smile.

“Well, well, boys. We may just meet my deadline yet!” She shifted her eyes to the smaller blonde woman to her left. “Let’s see what they can do with some props, shall we, Shanna?”

A book was placed on Neville’s lap and a mug pushed into the hand formerly resting on his chest. A few shots were taken while Neville ‘read’ to Blaise as they lounged casually. Cries of “Perfect!” and “Just there!” were given as the air filled with the click click of Roderick’s camera.  

Neville’s head snapped up at Pansy’s next words. 

“Can you give us a kiss from this position or should we reset?”

Neville hesitated for only a second before he let the book fall to the couch from his lap, quickly turning in Blaise’s embrace. Blaise, not expecting the sudden movement, dropped his mug of tea with a small gasp. Shanna pulled her wand to clean the mess, but was stopped when a red-manicured hand flew to her wrist. 

“Yes, Neville! That’s what I was talking about! There’s that Gryffindor rawr!” Pansy yelled excitedly

Rawr, indeed, Neville thought.

Blaise, for his part, wasted no time getting into the role that was, quite literally, thrust upon him. He lifted one leg to curl around the back of Neville’s thigh, placing one hand on the nape of Neville’s neck and the other firmly on his arse. 

Neville braced himself with his hands on Blaise’s firm chest and brought their mouths a hair's breadth away. Their eyes met and they stilled, breathing each other’s air.

A feral grin spread across Blaise’s face.

“Seems to me we’ve located another asset that is sure to be a hit with the readers,” he said slyly as he gave Neville’s arse a sharp slap before slipping his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Neville gasped and bucked his hips, causing their groins to meet. Blaise’s eyes closed and his head fell back on a low moan. Neville wasted no time pressing his hungry mouth to the long neck in front of him.

Pansy began fanning herself dramatically as she spoke. 

“Alright, boys! Crew! I think we’ve got it! That’s a wrap! That was hot ! Let’s take thirty, cool down a bit. If we skip lunch, I think we can squeeze in the shower tease before we stop for the day.”

It took Neville a second to make his body move. He felt dazed. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he did know that he wasn’t ready for it to end. His brain started to catch back up with his body as he slowly removed himself from on top of Blaise. If this scene was supposed to be “foreplay”, he wasn’t sure his aching cock could handle what Pansy had in mind for a shower scene . He groaned. He couldn’t let his mind go there now.  

No. For now, he needed space from Blaise. 

And possibly a wank.

He glanced down at Blaise’s lap to see the sizeable bulge that had, moments earlier, been rubbing against his own arousal. A spike of heat flooded his groin.

Definitely a wank, then , he thought, as he rose unsteadily from the couch.

--

Neville indulged in a quick wank and a calming cuppa before heading to Pansy’s “shower tease” set. 

The set was charmed to look like a modern shower room with a single-person, all glass shower taking up most of the space. 

“Strip!” were the first words out of Pansy’s mouth.

Neville’s mouth fell open and he searched Pansy’s face for any hint that she might be kidding.

“Down to the pants, at least. We want this to look believable.” 

Neville continued to stare at her, not moving.

“Let me guess,” she smirked “You’ve got a fantasy idea for this one as well?” She raised one eyebrow in question.

Boy, do I, Neville thought as his mind was flooded with images of being pushed face-first into the glass as Blaise shoved into him repeatedly from behind, his large hands grasping his hips until they bruised.

He cleared his throat, mind scrambling for something, anything, to delay dropping trou in front of a set full of people.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Who doesn’t fantasize about shower sex, am I right?”

He chuckled nervously.

“It’s, just, isn’t undressing each other half the fun?”

He groaned inwardly as Pansy gave him a disbelieving look. 

“Oh, that’s hot, ” he heard someone, Philippe maybe, say from somewhere off the left side of the set. 

Carly spoke up next. 

“Loungewear is super in right now. And easy to take off-“ 

Her sentence trailed suggestively as Pansy chuckled darkly. 

“Alright. I can work with that. Let’s dress them up, to take it off. Quickly, people!”

Neville wasn’t sure what made him think that undressing Blaise in front of a room full of people would be better than simply undressing himself. Holy boner, this was shaping up to be an interesting day , he thought. 

Carly wasted no time pushing Neville into a dressing room and shuffling him into a fresh wardrobe using a combination of magic and force. She spelled his shirt white and covered his tight maroon pants with Gryffindor maroon and gold plaid pajama bottoms. She sent him to wait on set, dragging Blaise into the dressing room next. 

Neville wasn’t prepared for Blaise in loungewear. In fact, he was fairly certain no one should look that good in clothes most people didn’t leave the house in. He had Slytherin green joggers slung low on his hips and was practically painted into a light grey fitted tee. He looked fucking edible .

Pansy looked them over critically and turned to nod at Carly. 

“Nice touch playing up the house colors. The readers will love that. And the joggers! Someone remind me to pull that article on joggers to throw in this issue. Witches are obsessed with wizards in joggers right now”

“I can see why,” Neville said before he could stop himself.

Blaise sent a saucy wink his way that had his knees threatening to give way. 

Pansy flicked her wand at the shower, causing the water to start cascading from the showerhead. 

“Shall we get started? Take it off boys.” 

Blaise’s hands landed on his hips and he wasted no time divesting Neville of his t-shirt. His gaze slid down Neville’s chest to his flat, slightly sculpted stomach, and he took his bottom lip into his mouth.

Neville groaned and took a step towards him, hands flying to the hem of Blaise’s shirt. He pushed his hands underneath it, letting them roam over hot, dark, skin, as he lifted the shirt off revealing broad shoulders,a perfectly muscled chest, firm stomach, washboard abs and a narrow waist.

Blaise ran his hands down Neville’s back and slipped his hands down his plaid lounge bottoms, grabbing two hands full of firm arse and pulling Neville towards him. He bucked his hips slightly, growling into Neville’s ear. 

“Gods your arse.”

He pushed the pajamas from Neville’s hips where they fell to pool at his ankles. Neville kicked them aside quickly, pushing back against the hands still holding his arse and letting his forehead fall to rest in the crook of Blaise’s neck. He chuckled. 

“My arse, huh?”

“Mmmm” came the throaty reply.

Neville was drunk on Blaise. He ran his hands reverently up Blaise’s arms to his biceps, along shoulders, and across sharp collarbones. He nipped languidly on Blaise’s throat and skated his fingers down his chest and stomach. He tugged slightly on the waistband of his joggers, grinding their hips and erections together. They both moaned as he pushed the joggers to the floor. 

The sound of Pansy clearing her throat made Neville force his eyes open only to have them met with Blaise’s equally lust-filled eyes. 

“I think I speak for all of us, when I say thank you for that, boys. Might I suggest a cold shower?” 

She positively leered at them. 

Neville was blushing as he took a step back. Ignoring Pansy, he addressed Blaise.

“I can finish this shoot in one take. Trust me?”

Smirking, Blaise raised his eyebrows and nodded once. He lifted one hand towards the shower, bowing slightly, as if to say “after you.”

Neville bent to retrieve his wand from the floor before stepping into the shower stall. He shot Blaise a quick smile and lifted his wand. Neville filled the air with thick, misty fog he sometimes used in his greenhouses and bent to push his pants to his knees. 

Blaise’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. His eyes flew to Neville’s cock and a pink tongue darted out to lick slowly across his bottom lip.

Neville stepped back, hissing as his arse hit the cool glass of the shower stall. He smirked at Blaise and crooked a finger at him. Blaise wasted no time bringing his hands up to bracket Neville’s body, one near his head and the other by his hip. 

A moan fell from Neville’s mouth. He could just imagine the image they made for those filling the set: a glass shower filled with steam, two large, dark hands and a pale white arse pressed up against the glass the only clue to what might be happening under the warm flowing water. 

Click click.  

“Got it!” Came Roderick’s voice just as Pansy said “Yes! Neville you brilliant, brilliant man!” 

Neville winked playfully. Giving his aching cock a single tug, he pulled his pants up, ducked under Blaise’s arm and stepped out of the shower stall. 

Pansy shook her head disbelievingly as she crossed the set to her friend. She hugged Neville and lifted slightly onto the balls of her feet to whisper in his ear. 

“Perhaps you’ve got a little Slytherin in you as well. Or you will soon enough.” 

Grinning at the blush rising on his cheeks, she stepped back and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Good job today everyone! We still need to shoot Neville’s gorgeous flowers. Roderick, I’m thinking close ups, full frames and a few with yours truly. But for the most part, we just wrapped at least three days of photo shoots in a single afternoon! Let’s clear these sets and head out for drinks. On me!” 

Everyone broke away in a rush of applause, cheers and action. Just Blaise and Neville were left standing beside her.

“You saved my arse today; both of you. I’ve always had a flare for the dramatic, so I might even go so far as to say you saved the whole bloody issue!” 

She turned her focus on Blaise.

“Take the rest of the evening off, as well as tomorrow morning. If I see your face before noon tomorrow, I’ll hex your balls off. I rather think that Neville would like them to stay where they are.”

She looked between them with a leer. 

“Have a good night, boys.” She said before sauntering away.

Chapter Text

Neville’s feet had barely touched down on the stone tiles of his entryway before Blaise was on him. 

They had put back on the loungewear from the shoot, exited the studio and disapparated back to Neville’s flat with barely a word spoken between them. 

They wasted no time undressing each other. 

Again. 

This time, however, without an audience, neither man was holding back. Hungry hands and mouths battled to cover every inch of the bodies they’d waited all day to have. 

Neville has never wanted anyone like he wanted Blaise right now. Every touch of his hands and drag of his mouth over his heated skin felt like fire. He was burning. Happily, enthusiastically , burning. 

No words were needed between them. Their bodies acted like they knew each other. Each touch felt like coming home. 

Neville walked Blaise backwards towards the blue leather sofa in the center of his living room and unceremoniously shoved him over the side. Blaise hissed as the cool leather made contact with his overheated skin. Neville scrambled on after, straddling him and leaning over to reclaim his mouth. 

Their cocks slid together deliciously as Neville ground his hips into Blaise. He broke away from Blaise’s mouth, panting as he watched their cocks, a thick bead of precum bloomed on Blaise’s tip and began to trickle down the shaft. 

Neville whimpered. He had to taste Blaise. Now . 

Neville shuffled down on the oversized couch until his face was level with Blaise’s delicious cock. It was long, thick and leaking. Staring up at Blaise, Neville licked it from root to tip. Blaise threw his head back on a moan. 

Neville took his time flicking his tongue along the slit and then sucking the thick head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around and around. He moaned at the taste and smiled around the thick cock filling his mouth as Blaise shuddered at the sensation. 

Neville bent lower, taking more of the shaft into his mouth. He bobbed his head in earnest, only slowing when Blaise’s thighs began to shake beneath his clutching fingers. 

Blaise’s cock left Neville’s mouth with a pop. A whimper escaped Blaise’s mouth as he lifted his head, dazed. 

“Wha—why did you?—wha—“ his words broke off on a shuttered breath as he watched Neville turn to lean over the opposite end of the couch. Arse facing Blaise and legs spread wide, Neville conjured lube with a whispered spell and sunk his fingers into his hole, preparing himself for Blaise’s waiting cock. 

Neville threw his head back, shamelessly riding his fingers. He moaned loudly as his greedy hole swallowed his fingers over and over.  

Blaise growled low in his throat, gripping this base of his cock hard to halt his impending orgasm. 

“Your arse will be the death of me, I swear”

“If you die...before you’re inside me...I’ll kill you,” Neville panted. 

Blaise chuckled and moved to position himself behind Neville. His hands landed on Neville’s hips as he dragged his mouth from Neville’s shoulder to his ear, nipping all the way. 

Neville whimpered as he pulled his fingers from his hole. His hips were bucking into thin air as he waited, aching, for Blaise to enter him. 

“Blaise...please. Need you inside me. Wanted this for so long. Fill me up. Make me yours. Please ,” he begged. 

Blaise squeezed Neville’s hips hard as he steadily pushed into him. Neville let loose a sob as he imagined the bruises he would likely have from those strong hands holding him steady. 

Blaise finally, finally , sunk home. Barely giving Neville a moment to adjust, he started pounding in and out of Neville’s hole dragging his cock across Neville’s prostate with each thrust. 

Oh gods . It felt so good. Too good. Neville was going to lose it. He wasn’t ready for this to be over already. 

Abelia...Abeliophyllum...Abelmoschus...

Neville’s eyes flew open when Blaise spoke. “What was that?” 

“Hmm?”

“You were mumbling something. Was it a spell?”

Neville’s face flamed and he groaned in embarrassment. 

“I-I’m...um...well... I might have been listing garden plants alphabetically by genus so I didn’t come right away?” 

Blaise chuckled warmly. 

“Fucking adorable, you are.”

Neville moaned as Blaise hit his prostate dead on. 

“So tight...so perfect... even better than I imagined,” Blaise panted.

“Merlin...yes, yes, yes...Oh!...gods don’t stop!” Neville moaned. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

A breathy “oh” fell from Neville’s mouth as Blaise wrapped his hand around Neville’s impossibly hard shaft. 

“Let go for me,” Blaise breathed.

Neville came with a shout, wave after wave of arousal wracking his body. 

Blaise pumped two, three, more times before growling his own release. 

They collapsed against the side of the couch, chests heaving and hearts pounding. 

Blaise’s magic danced across Neville’s skin as Blaise cleaned them both with a wandless, wordless, charm. 

Neville shuddered and summoned a quilt to cover them as Blaise pulled Neville towards him. They settled into one another, Neville’s back to Blaise’s front. 

Blaise sighed contentedly and placed a soft kiss to base of Neville’s neck.

Neville smiled. Tomorrow morning, preferably after another taste of the delicious cock now resting against the small of his back, he was sending Pansy the biggest flower arrangement his owl could carry. Thanks to her photo shoot, he now had an opportunity to turn his fantasies into reality.