How The Mighty Have Fallen

Can't say I'm impressed. Comparatively, anyway. However, I'll let you decide for yourself.

Fred suppressed a snicker even as he felt a telltale tug around his throat, and his head came up automatically to accommodate the loosening of the House brand around his neck. It was like Keiran had an unhealthy fixation on keeping his chin uptilted, or rather his throat bared. It would brass Fred off, normally, but it was a rather obvious attempt to keep Fred quelled, a highly unsubtle move by the normally unflappable Hayes that screamed ‘I want to keep the power here’ which clearly demonstrated that the Slytherin was actually feeling a bit unsteady, so Fred kept his lips sealed in the smuggest of smiles and charitably allowed it.

Of course this was all going on only in a minute, functioning part of what was left of his logical head, most of it was just taken over by his panting hindbrain which pretty much went like- Keiran’s lips + his throat = zilch problems. It was all very amiable.

“I must say,” His voice wasn’t exactly….breathless, per se. Just a little…um. Compromised. It did wonders for his already husky timbre, so it wasn’t That big of an issue. “I’ve never been in a size competition with the actual possibility of confirming who wins.”

……….then the words sunk in his useless, swimming in a vat of liquid concrete brain and a voice that sounded unbelievably like Lysander’s shook its head at him internally. That’s because you’ve never done this with a guy before, you utter numbskull.

Fred blinked widely at the flagstones of the dungeon wall, just visible above Keiran’s bobbing head. Huh. That explained why things were significantly less……squishier than normal.

And hadn’t he had this identical realisation not five minutes ago?

F*cking fumes.

His hands rose of their own accord from where they were initially positioned, one hooked around Keiran’s neck, the other against the flat of his back which………he didn’t remember doing at all, must have happened sometime during all the snogging (oh my god, not even chaste kisses, this was full on, heavy handed snogging, Fred was going to throw up in his mouth, a little), rose to catch against Keiran’s shoulders with the intention of pushing him back. Followed it up with heavy, stern words, because no, he’d done it once already, he refused to be coaxed back by this sod, no matter how it stung the ego.

“Hayes, stop, we’ve got to get our heads in orde-“ Heavy, stern words, except his voice had……maybe kinda sorta cracked somewhere in the middle, because the Slytherin idiot had gone for the skin right over his Adam’s apple, and…..that was a nip of teeth, right there. Fred squeezed his eyes shut because damn it, it was like trying to stay afloat in a tumultuous sea, catching for glimpses of sanity like one might catch for breaths of air. He knew he could push the sod back. He knew it. Definitely strong enough, mentally and physically. His hands were just……there, clasped about the shoulders though. No, wait, only his right hand was still there, his left was most conscientiously winding through Keiran’s locks, keeping that head down and fastened. “Look, you don’t want this, you really don’t want this, just….pull back, think for a min….nnnh.” F*ck, was that tongue, damn, right the- no, no, he could and would do this, this was nothing, he’d used that little tongue trick himself before, with girls, there was no reason why he couldn’t resist this, apart from the little fact that he was clearly under the effects of sanity obliterating lust fumes and suction and………..shit.

And now his words were muffled against a set of lips that were starting to feel remarkably familiar, there was something bristly scraping against his jawline which set him on fire and repulsed him equally, there was a forward tug of his belt loops and…..bloody buggering hell. Fred inhaled a sound that had no business getting out and for five glorious seconds, dedicated himself to absolutely ravaging Keiran’s lips, making no mistake that that offensive bottom lip would be red and puffy and beyond all saving come tomorrow morning. Drew back for breath and finally, finally, shoved the Slytherin away by the shoulders in a move that should have been made millennia ago, Merlin, what was wrong with him.

“Look, I know I’m bloody delectable, but get a f*cking grip over over yourself.” His voice was shot to hell, but finally had the bite to it that it needed, threaded over with threads of panic because……yeah no, lets just skip that over. He staggered sideways, finally away from that goddamned desk, and backwards, right palm out in a ‘stop right there’ gesture that was impossible to mistake. “Where’s that will power, huh?” Apparently nowhere, because the magnet pull was starting to exert its draw over him again, Hayes looked so lonely over there by himself…..No. Ugh.

Fred took three steps backward. And then another two, because he might finally be getting an inkling of what ‘safety precautions’ meant. His breath was coming harshly, the skin over his throat and lips was tingling, he had what felt like beard burn over his jaw, and that all was, of course, ignoring the very obvious……problem, going on in the nether regions. “Just……stand there. Right there. No moving. Let me…..I just have to…..” He paced a couple of steps, hand coming just a little shakily up to knead at the bridge of his nose, pulling back sweaty, shaggy strands of hair from his forehead. “I can’t think.”

Everything Fred was saying made sense... Somewhere. Keiran couldn't exactly find that part of his mind just then. His mind screamed at him, reminding him just how much he was going to hate himself for this. Bad. This was very bad, and Keiran was a massive, colossal idiot. Then why did this feel like the best idea he had ever had?

It wasn't his idea. It was Fred's. Or he told himself so, anyway. And would continue to tell himself forever. That hardly mattered now, though, when Fred had conceded, at least for a few moments, to raise the challenge against Keiran once more. His grip on the younger man relaxed as their brief battle for dominance occurred. Enough to make it almost easy for Fred to shove him back.

As the Gryffindor backed away, Keiran just watched him. He was right. Obviously Fred was right. The Slytherin had far more control within him than he had been able to harness in those past several minutes.

It had only been minutes, right? How long had Fred been there?

Standing still seemed incredibly stupid, particularly given that he felt a need to continually shift his weight to alleviate certain... sensations he wanted to be rid of. For a moment, Keiran wished he wasn't stuck with Audriana. Then he could have had whoever else he wanted, obviously, and he wouldn't be so strung out. This wouldn't have been so easy for the Weasley to manage. How had they even ended up like this?

And why was Keiran suddenly fascinated by Weasley's hair? That was stupid. Keiran felt stupid. But, more than anything else, Fred Weasley's hair was utterly stupid. Buggering hell, but he was confused.

Fred's last word sunk in and Keiran concurred. They needed to think. He ripped his gaze away from the other student, unsurprised when they landed on the cauldron he had been using. Shit. He had completely forgotten. Despite Weasley's demand that he stay on his own side of the potions lab, Keiran wasn't about to let the potion catch fire, or worse: do something like what had happened to them already.

So he stepped forward, his attention focused (even though it seemed physically painful to do so) on the smoking cauldron. Reaching it, he cursed. "F*ck." The color was all wrong, and the flame beneath it was still lit. Not helping. And hell, it was just making the room that much hotter, wasn't it? Upon Registering that, Keiran draped his robes over one of the lab stools, and he wasn't sure where he had placed his tie. But, Merlin, it was so, just, humid in there. The sort of weather he wasn't used to after so long in the UK, but the sort he was immediately realizing made long-sleeves just unbearable. So he rolled up his cuffs, then reached around to pick up his wand, which had somehow been returned to his pocket. The flame went out. Well, the physical one, anyway.

The metaphorical heat, as well as the layer of tension mixed with just layers of want? That was obviously still here. And Keiran was rapidly coming to realize he couldn't handle it.

It was his sleeves, he decided. Those were the real traitors, nearly as much as his own mind. As much as he wanted to just tear them off, Hayes was too tidy for that. So he reached up to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, completely unaware of what might happen if he let it join the robes on that chair. Which he did, by the way. And it felt glorious. He actually relaxed slightly, as though he had been waiting for years to be rid of it.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the Gryffindor again. Keiran hadn't forgotten he was there. But now that the danger of an accident was gone (beyond everything else that had happened which he would later qualify as 'accidents'), his focus narrowed again. He was half naked in front of one of his near-rivals, and he could still feel the pressure and heat and force of Fred's lips on his own. Was he past those so-called "base" desires? Keiran wasn't convinced.

Somehow, that uncertainty turned into a need to shift his body so that he faced Weasley. No, faced the door. That was it. Though, walking into the dorms without a shirt on souls be fairly odd, wouldn't it? Keiran himself wasn't sure what he was after until his arms unconsciously crossed in front of him, the tension in his frame making it clear exactly where each muscle had been toned, and to the extent each one had been. His feet strained to move forward, but he refused to let them.

His jaw set and he stood there for a moment before pointing out, "this is entirely your fault, you know. If you were interested, you could have just said so instead of getting in my face. Doesn't mean I would've taken you up on it, of course. You're... alright enough, I guess. Decent, of course, but... Not really up to my standards, though."

Plus he's a guy... Keiran's mind was quick to remind him, but not quick enough, really, for him to add it on without making it sound like a cover-up or an excuse. People who clarified belatedly always sounded like they were lying, and Keiran definitely wasn't.

Definitely wasn't.