volumetwo | (no subject)

A shudder passes through Scorpius. He's not drunk. James may be, but Scorpius is one hundred and ten percent sober. And that means everything he's feeling are things he'd feel any time James might want to kiss him. And apparently lift up his shirt to touch him.

Scorpius doesn't move away from the questing touch. He invites it, removing his hand briefly from James's hair to tug his shirt up and give James room. Scorpius is slim and still on the verge of gawky at times, more bone than muscle, more angles than curves. It will be nigh impossible to pretend he's a girl, so what James touches is purely masculine beneath his fingertips.

James nearly breaks away when he moves to tug his shirt up. Too much, too fast, if they don't put the breaks on soon then it's going to be nightmarish, much harder to do damage control after the fact.

But he doesn't, and his fingers slide up against the ridges of his spine. Slowly, admiringly; he's not feminine at all, but James seems to be fond of that.

Scorpius can't help but laugh, a bit. His mouth pulls abruptly away as he exhales against James.

"That tickles." And it does. In stupidly wonderful ways.

Scorpius puts his hand on the back of James's neck, delicately touching his nape, the short hairs back there. He leans down to continue the kiss again. And if James is counting, they're already over the sixty second mark.

"Sorry," James murmurs, but it's clear that he's not. He's smiling, actually, righty against Scorpius's mouth, his fingers sliding against his side now. The hand on the back of his neck gives him goosebumps, makes something twist wonderfully in his stomach, but he couldn't help himself: he digs his fingers in, trying to tickle his side with one hand as he holds him firmly in his lap with the other.

Scorpius was juuust about to get his tongue in James's mouth again, when those fingers slide up his flank and he dissolves into laughter, quickly taking advantage of James's sluggishness to grab both his hands to still them. Even so, he did wriggle quite a bit, and his face is getting pink to boot.

"Prat," he teases, trying his best to breathe.

"Am not," he argues with a little laugh of his own, and tries not to think about how nice the feeling of Scorpius actually wriggling on his lap is. James shakes his head, still grinning, and leans in to kiss him hard as he simultaneously attempts to break at least one had free to start kissing him again.

His laughter. It was a good sound, an earnest one, and he wants to hear it again.

"Are, too," Scorpius argues, but his words are swallowed up by the kiss, and instead of finishing that thought, he moans instead. Only because James is struggling so much does Scorpius let go of his wrists finally. His own hands find James's chest, feeling him up over his shirt and then reaching down to find its hem so he too can touch bare skin.

He doesn't bother with just pulling it up. He urges James to get the whole thing off entirely.

The moan makes another little thrill shoot through him. His fingers flex, go still for just a moment, and then he softly shakes his head breathlessly. "Can't," he murmurs, before he leans in to kiss him again, his hands moving to gently grip his hips. He holds him there gently in his lap, focusing so, so pointedly on anything else.

"...Can't?" Scorpius repeats, a little dumbfounded. Well, also, there's the fact that James's hands have found a steady placeholder: on his hips. It's an intimate gesture, to be sure, one that Scorpius doesn't seem to mind.

Leaning in, Scorpius kisses along James's jaw, up to his ear with a grin. "Sorry...can't what, exactly?"

Two minutes have come and gone, Jamie.

"Shirts need to stay on," he mumbles, but his head tilts to the side to give Scorpius better access to his jaw. His lips are warm, and the heat of his breath so close to his ear might actually render him speechless. His thumbs begin to stroke against his hips, sincere if a little awkward, and he finally exhales a low, deep sigh.

Reluctance, so much reluctance.

"...should probably, uh. Stop, too."

"Oh....Right."

Stop?! Is James serious here?? It was just getting good! James couldn't very well have sobered up...but maybe Scorpius freaked him out with trying to take his shirt off. Shit. That's got to be it.

"Probably." He leans back, looking down at James and runs both hands through his hair.

James sighs, leaning forward and impulsively kissing the side of Scorpius's neck. It's a gentle, fond little gesture, his own breathing still a little shallow, but there's nothing wrong with that, is there? He's not doing anything bad... just showing a little measure of gratitude for the kisses earlier.

"Should probably go back to Al's room 'fore he finds you gone," he murmurs, but it's with his lips against his pulse point.

Goosebumps race down Scorpius's spine, his sides, and bubble up beneath James's breath, hot on his skin. Scorpius is dying here. The kisses, the tenderness. If this is what James Potter is like when he's a little drunk, Scorpius is going to cling to him with a bottle of alcohol at every chance. It's...nice. More than nice.

It's fantastic.

"Probably," Scorpius agrees. But he doesn't move away to leave.

"This doesn't mean anything," he adds again, but there's something a little unsure about his tone. He's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to make Scorpius believe it, and that much is evident. He snuffles his face against his throat, and then adds: "You smell like my soap."

He might be imagining it, but god, the thought is embarrassingly appealing.

Scorpius can't help the smile that lifts onto his thin, boyish lips. They're still tingling from the kiss, and he's having other issues with James's breath wafting over his skin as it is.

The smile wavers a bit, falls, at James's words: This doesn't mean anything.

Slowly, Scorpius untangles himself from James's lap and sits back on the bed, glancing aside. This was a stupid idea. It was stupid to kiss James the first time, but it was even more inexcusable the second. If Al found out... Hell, if anyone found out...

"Yes, well, I do have to shower on occasion," he murmurs coolly.

"-hey," James says before he even realizes that he's complaining, reaching out for Scorpius before his hand falls short. Right. They weren't supposed to be doing this. They would probably be mutually disowned by their families if they were discovered like this.

Fuck it.

James turns, shifting toward the other boy and sort of just reaching out, an attempt to grab him, to pull him against his side. It's not a sexual gesture as much as is it an almost lonely one. "...just shut up and come here, would you?" It seems like he's clumsily trying to hold him.

"...Didn't you just say I should go back to Al's room?" Scorpius murmurs, but with James reaching for him, he's a little sluggish to pull away. James has no idea what he wants is the moral of this entire story, and Scorpius really should just step away. He doesn't need more complications in his life.

But he doesn't. He settles in where James tugs him, trying not to read into it.

"Hey. All right, Potter?"

"Yeah, you probably should. But just- be quiet for a second, like I said."

No, that was unfair to say: James, especially under the careful self-scrutinization that sometimes came with alcohol's assistance. He just didn't want to voice it, couldn't handle admitting it to himself more than briefly. This is what he wants. This is more comfortable feeling, more natural feeling than anything else has been, and he's still often torn between deciding if he wants to punch or kiss Malfoy's stupid face.

He drops his own face into his hair, exhaling lowly.

"Shh."

Complications.

James Potter is one big fucking complication. The single thing Scorpius does not need right now in his life. Especially when he's getting on well with Al and his family, perhaps mending a bridge between his family and the Potters that has been broken for years.

Still, he wraps his arms slowly around James, closes his eyes, and draws him close. Quiet.

And James has a life to figure out. He has to decide where he's going, where he wants to go - has to make sure that he'll make his parents proud. Sure, he's good at speaking big, boasting about big plans and goals on the horizon, but the truth is that he's lost.

"I'm sorry about everything," he murmurs, right into his hair. "I'm sorry about- me."

Merlin.

Scorpius doesn't say anything for a while. He remains quiet, letting James speak, but it's soon clear that that's maybe all the other boy had to say for now. So with a sigh, Scorpius moved, tugging the covers back and squirming the both of them under.

"Why?"

James is visibly surprised, before he sighs and follows suit, keeping his arms around Scorpius as they get beneath the sheets. "You know why. -- for being drunk." For being confusing, he wants to say, but his tongue is too heavy to figure out how to phrase that.

Scorpius shrugs, stifling a yawn into the pillow. He really is tired now. A few hours ago, he couldn't fathom sleeping, but now? Now, it seemed like it could be easy.

"It's fine."

"... won't say this tomorrow, but-" He swallows hard, tugging him closer. "...doesn't mean nothing."

"Shh," Scorpius grumbles, cutting him off. He doesn't want to hear this kind of thing when James is still obviously drunk. He doesn't really want to hear it sober either, but at least then he could tell if the other boy was being truthful or not.

Tucking close to James, Scorpius's breath evens out. He should get up. Go back to Al's room. But... Well...

Staying is easier.

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HAHA i meant to say to start tickling him again, yay proof reading

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