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It’s about eleven o’clock at night when he hears a knock on his bedroom window.
“Jesus Christ!” Albus just about jumps out of his skin. It’s too dark to make out the face, but he already knows who it is. There’s only one person who enters his house via window.
Albus pushes the pane of glass up and helps haul him inside off the tree branch.
“What are you doing?” he hisses. “Why don’t you ever use the front door like a normal person?”
Karl rolls into the room, an uncoordinated mess of limbs thudding to the ground. He’s in a forest green hoodie and grey sweatpants, which should be surprising given that he was supposedly just at a house party a few streets over, but honestly, he’s worn far worse things to far fancier places. He’s also high, Albus clocks immediately, all loose limbed and languorous.
“Nah,” he declares, dusting himself off. He’s wearing that blissed out smile of his, and his eyes are red and unfocussed. “That’s too easy! Anyway, this brings me straight to your room.”
“So do the stairs,” Albus points out, picking a couple of stray leaves out of his hair, “and you have less chance of breaking a bone.”
Unsurprisingly, Karl’s bumpy entrance has not gone unnoticed and Albus’s mum cautiously opens his bedroom door. Her tired face is somehow both amused and unimpressed when she takes in his messy pose on the floor.
“Karl, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Ginny sighs, running a hand over her face, “please stop scaling the side of my house and come in through the front door. I really don’t need you falling and breaking your neck. I know Harry still calls you ‘the flour boy,’ but we are always happy to see you.”
She’s referring to the nickname he acquired after several trips across the road from his own house to borrow their flour for different baking projects. Harry, unable to recall his name, soon began calling out the flour boy’s coming! to the rest of the house whenever he spotted him on his way. It stuck.
“Sorry Mrs Potter,” he gives her a charming, toothy grin and pushes the hair back from his face. Albus’s stomach flips. He hopes to god that Karl’s state is not as obvious to her.
“It’s Ginny, love,” she corrects, but there’s no hiding the fond smile on her face. If she notices the redness of his eyes, she doesn’t say anything.
“Right. Yeah.” Karl laughs, same as he always does, like he can’t believe he forgot again.
“Are you staying the night?”
Karl looks to Albus, the movement sluggish. Though they’re glazed, his eyes flicker across Albus in an unintentionally suggestive way that leaves him unable to do anything but shrug, undoubtedly as red as a beet.
“Maybe, yeah.” He turns back to Ginny.
Ginny gives Albus a look that he pretends not to notice. He refuses to decipher her not so hidden meaning. There is only one bed after all. His bed. He picks at a thread on his own sweatpants instead, a difficult task with nails as chewed up as his.
“Well, if you do decide to go home please use the door. I don’t want to have to call an ambulance because you fell out of a tree at three in the morning.”
“Will do! Sorry!”
She gives them both another lingering look, appraising them in a way that makes Albus feel itchy, but he refuses to squirm; that would only confirm her suspicions.
She’s wrong, anyway. Nothing’s ever happened between them. Not properly.
“Goodnight, boys,” she says, finally.
“Night.” They both chorus as she quietly pulls the door shut behind her. Her footsteps retreat softly until they’re sat in silence again.
“What are you doing here?” Albus repeats, turning to Karl. “I thought you were at that party?”
“I was,” Karl says, relaxing further into the carpet, “but it was boring as fuck. I realised I’d rather be here.”
“In my house?” Albus deadpans. He highly doubts that his room is anywhere near as interesting as the party Frankie is throwing while his parents are away.
“With you.” Karl says, simple and honest.
All at once Albus is aware of his heartbeat. It beats unusually hard and fast in his chest. Karl must be able to hear it. He can’t stop his eyes from raking over his body, spread out on the floor. His hoodie rides up at his hips and Albus drinks in the pale peek of skin like a drowning man. He imagines, not for the first time, what the rest of him might look like with shameful detail.
He forcibly snaps himself out of it.
“Are you cold? You must be. Come on, get off the floor,” he stands to tug Karl to his feet. His hands are icy to touch, though that’s not a shock seeing as he walked through the freezing winter air to get here.
He’s only trying to get Karl to sit on the bed. He’s planning in the back of his mind to wrap his duvet around him. Maybe they can watch a movie on Albus’s laptop or scroll through dumb videos on their phones. Instead, Karl follows the momentum and slumps into Albus’s arms, pressing their bodies together in a warm hug. Albus carefully wraps his arms around him, feeling his lightly toned body through the bagginess of the hoodie.
“You always take care of me,” he muses, nuzzling himself into the space beneath Albus’s chin. His hair tickles Albus’s face, though it’s not like he minds.
“Course I do,” he murmurs, “I think you’d die otherwise.”
“Mm,” Karl hums, the sound vibrating on Albus’s chest, “yeah, probably.”
Carefully, Albus disentangles them and settles back onto his bed. Karl kicks his shoes off and sits on the end facing him, running his hands along the blanket.
“What about Yann and Polly? And Craig? Weren’t they all going as well?”
Karl grins to himself, clearly remembering something funny.
“Craig was playing beer pong with that girl, Sophia, last I saw,” he says, “and then I walked in on Yann with his head up Polly’s skirt in the bedroom, so I think it’s safe to say they’re busy.”
“Fuck off,” Albus gasps. “Isn’t that like, the third time you’ve done that?”
“Fourth.” He corrects, dissolving into little hiccupping giggles.
“They’re going to kill you.”
Karl shrugs, leaning back on to his elbows. “I’d like to see them try,” he boasts, “I’m like a cockroach, surviving nuclear wars and that.”
“I think you’re full of shit. What happened to dying without me?”
“Mm,” Karl hums again, head lulling to the side. “Both can be true. Anyway, I hope your birthday party is better than that one.”
“I’m not having a party.”
“Why not?!” he gapes at Albus, offended.
“Because I only have four friends and I hate my birthday.”
“So what? Four is plenty when they love you as much as we do,” he protests, sending little sparks of warmth through him, “it’s your eighteenth! We want you to have fun!”
“I’ll have fun even if we just get pizza and watch a movie here,” Albus says. Karl nods heavily and closes his eyes. Albus can’t help the smile that crosses his face. He’s endlessly endearing and somehow unfairly fit at the same time.
“We’re all going to spoil you though, just so you know.”
Albus snorts. “Yeah, okay.”
Karl opens his eyes to squint at him. He has the same sceptical side eye as a mistrusting dog.
“You laughing at me?”
“Absolutely.”
Karl kicks at him and Albus swats his socked feet away.
“Oi!” he laughs as Karl continues his efforts half-heartedly. “Stop!”
“Hmph,” he huffs, giving it up and flopping onto his back. “Serves you right.”
“Bastard.”
“Prick.”
They lapse into silence for a moment. Albus watches the rise and fall of Karl’s chest as he gazes up at the ceiling. Suddenly, he looks back and Albus’s heart jolts at the eye contact.
“Wanna smoke?” Karl asks, hand disappearing into the front pocket of his hoodie. When it re-emerges, he’s holding a zip lock bag of weed and rolling paper.
Albus glances back at his bedroom door. He doesn’t have a lock and the memory of Ginny’s sudden appearance is all too fresh, but the temptation is so strong that his mouth is near watering.
“Mum’ll kill me,” he groans.
“No she won’t, your mum’s cool.”
Albus screws up his face. “Not that cool. She just likes you.”
“Really?” he looks so touched that Albus can hardly stand it.
“Yes, really.”
“Then we’ll definitely get away with it. Come on. You know you want to,” Karl taunts dangling the bag in front of him like a treat for a dog.
With one last worried glance, Albus accepts defeat. “Fuck it,” he sighs. He grabs his towel off the back of the door and stuffs it as best he can into the crack along the bottom. “We’ll have to sit by the window though.”
“Obviously,” Karl agrees. He’s already started rolling them a joint to share. His usually clumsy fingers are inexplicably quick and nimble at this. “Do you have your airpods?”
“Oh shit, yeah,” Albus retrieves them from his bedside table and grabs his phone to find their smoking playlist.
It’s not the cool and effortless act they’d probably like to imagine that it is, and the icy night air is biting, but once they’re set up in the windowsill, blanket draped across their laps, one airpod each, playlist on and joint lit between their fingers, it’s pretty close to perfection.
Karl lets Albus take the first hit. He inhales deep and slow, then holds it before exhaling out his nose. The burn is immediately satisfying, he loves the way it makes his head spin. Karl reaches out to take the joint, chuckling.
“You look like a moody little dragon when you do that,” he says, running his tongue absentmindedly across his teeth. Albus watches the movement with rapt attention. He watches even closer when he puts the joint to his lips and sucks obscenely at it. He feels a matching breathlessness and squirms at the sudden tightness in his groin. Pretty boys have always been a bit of a weakness for Albus, and Karl is no exception.
“Wish you’d been there,” Karl says, exhaling the smoke out the window.
“Where?” Albus asks dumbly, distracted by the curve of his jaw as he turns. He wants to sink his teeth into it. “At the party?”
“Yeah, dude, it would’ve been so much better if you’d been there. Everything’s better when you’re there.”
Albus doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s rendered speechless by how casually he says it, like an undisputed fact. Normally, he feels like everyone would be much happier without him around.
“Yeah?” he asks, disbelieving.
“Yeah,” Karl turns his soft gaze to him and grins that lazy smile. “Always. Want to shotgun?”
He mimes a pistol with his free hand and whispers pew pew!
Albus straightens. His heart leaps into his throat. They haven’t done that in quite a while, not since his last relationship. It was a more common thing back when he first started smoking and Karl was easing him into it. Just a chaste press of lips, much more about the function than the action. Back then he hadn’t really grasped the true depth and nature of his feelings for Karl. He was hot without question, boyishly handsome and always a laugh to be around, that much was obvious, but Albus’s heart hadn’t yet begun to stutter and nor had his stomach taken to its constant flipping. Still, there’s always been something about Karl. Something that intrigues him in a way that differs from the others, something that draws him in.
“You taking the piss?” he asks faux-casually. Karl blows smoke into his face as an answer, lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk. He wiggles his brows at Albus like the little shit that he is. “Dickhead.”
“Old times sake?” Karl asks. His grin is infectious and Albus can’t help but smile back, then again, it’s always been like this with Karl. The song that was playing softly in his ear fades out and when the next one starts Karl’s groans and leans his head back against the window frame, baring his neck to Albus and closing his eyes. The perfect picture of ecstasy. “Fuck yes,” he grits through the intensity of his grin. He bites his lip and sways his head slowly from side to side to the music. He mouths the words like he’s losing himself to them, perfectly melodramatic. High as a kite.
‘What time you coming out? We started losing light, I’ll never make it right if you don’t want me ‘round,’
Albus feels his smile fade as he takes him in. It’s a song he added to the playlist a few months back when he’d been in the depths of despair and moping about Karl ditching him for his boyfriend at the time. Which makes it more than a little jarring to see him mouth, ‘don’t you see me? I, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you,’ at him. He huffs a subtly self-deprecating laugh out his nose and tries to look away.
“I’ve missed you,” Karl admits, to the soft crooning sound of ‘don’t you need me?’ in their ears. It feels like a movie, though that’s probably the weed and not the cinematic moment of realisation he’s pretending it is.
Albus rolls his eyes and refuses to read into it. “Come on then,” he drawls, like he’s doing Karl a favour by letting him kiss him. Like he doesn’t fantasize about it every night. Like his desire doesn’t make him near violent at times, the overwhelming need to scratch, bite and pull him in.
With a smile bright enough to blind, Karl takes another hit. (I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you.) Albus watches in slow motion as he scoots closer to cup the side of Albus’s face with his free hand and lean in. Their lips touch only for a second before they’re opening their mouths and passing the smoke between them. It’s good stuff, but Albus is more inclined to believe that the sudden rush of endorphins is from the way Karl curls his fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.
When he leans back, Albus exhales, smoke clouding his vision momentarily. Karl’s still in his space and Matty Healy is still singing in his ear. He’s not surprised when Karl kisses him again, properly this time. That’s usually how it goes for them. They smoke and make out and then move on like nothing happened. He’s not complaining. Albus kisses him back almost ferociously, cupping his face and biting at his lips. Karl stubs out the joint on the wall outside and sets it on the windowsill beside him before placing his hands on Albus’s neck. They kiss and kiss, and Albus can feel the grin Karl is pressing against his mouth when they hear ‘I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck.’
It’s uncomfortable perched where they are, but Albus is afraid that if he disrupts them enough to change positions, or god forbid, move to the bed, it’ll be over. So, he presses on, licking into his mouth and relishing in the moment. He tangles one hand into Karl’s hair and tugs to give himself better access to his neck. He kisses down his chin and takes special pleasure in nipping at his jawline like he’d been imagining, even as it bumps his airpod and nearly knocks it out of his ear. Karl laughs breathlessly and writhes within his grasp.
“Tickles,” he gasps, and Albus grins against his skin. “D’you wan—D’you want to come away from the window?”
Albus pulls back to look at him, readjusting the airpod and setting the music going again. He searches his eyes for any hidden meaning, even though Karl rarely says anything other than what he means. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Karl packs up the joint and the blanket and heads over to the bed while Albus pulls the window shut. He turns around to take in the sight of Karl making himself comfortable on Albus’s bed. It doesn’t mean anything, not properly, and tomorrow they will continue on as usual because this is what they do. It’s what they all do, really. Although it’s never normally in the privacy of his room, Albus has made out with all of his friends, even Polly, and it’s always been a laugh. Just a bit of fun. It’s not Karl’s fault that Albus’s feelings for him are rather less platonic.
Leaning against the headboard, Karl opens his arms and beckons Albus over, and he goes, because of course he does. Karl’s hair is falling into his blue-brown eyes and he’s so beautiful Albus wants to shake him. He’s got partial heterochromia, with a quarter section of his left eye being a chocolate brown colour, and it’s one of Albus’s favourite details about him. It’s pretty strongly rivalled by his both his dimples and one slightly crooked tooth though.
Up close, Albus can really appreciate the light spattering of freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, and when he pushes the hair out of his forehead, he’s gripped by the foolish desire to kiss the space between his eyebrows. He wrestles with himself briefly before giving in and pressing his lips there lightly, almost too intimate for the moment, and then kisses him purposefully again to keep him from making any comments about it.
With a happy noise, Karl pulls Albus further on top of him and slots their legs together. It certainly takes them further than they usually get, but even this is not unheard of for them. Albus is not unused to rolling their hips together and strategically ignoring anything that might be pressing against him. That would cross a line, even as they pant and groan into each other’s mouths, hands gripping at skin and blood pumping heavily through their veins.
He’s just hitching a leg further up when a phone vibrates. They both pause for a millisecond, conditioned by the sound, before carrying on. Albus finds the bottom of Karl’s hoodie and slides a hand up to feel the burning heat of skin beneath.
“Is this—?”
“Yeah,” Karl breathes, chasing his lips.
The phone vibrates again. And again.
Annoyed, Albus pulls away to find the offending device. It’s Karl’s phone, lit up with several texts that he reads before he can stop himself.
“Don’t worry about it,” Karl says, trying to pull him back in, but Albus’s stomach has already dropped through the floor. He pulls his airpod out and switches off the music, plunging them into silence.
“Matt wants to know where you are,” he monotones. He watches Karl’s expression to see him shift guiltily. “Didn’t realise he was at the party. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s irrelevant.”
Albus separates himself from Karl entirely, sitting back and pulling his sweatshirt down over the top of his pyjama pants. Embarrassed by how easy and obvious he’d been.
“He’s texting you to ask where you’ve gone,” he continues, “that doesn’t seem irrelevant.”
“He trying to get back together with me,” Karl props himself up to explain, as if that somehow makes it better. His face is flushed and his chest is still heaving.
“And are you going to?” Albus asks, afraid of the answer. “Need I remind you that the last time you guys broke up you had a breakdown and pierced your nose?”
“Yeah and now I lose my nose ring every other fuckin’ day, worst decision of my life,” Karl laughs.
“I can think of a worse one,” Albus grumbles, thinking of Matt. “At least the nose ring’s hot.”
He’s being bitter. Matt is, annoyingly, incredibly attractive. Albus has considered giving it a go himself a few times. It’s always a low moment.
“Fuck off,” Karl shoves him playfully, which is another jarring reminder of how casual this whole situation was for him, “and obviously I’m not getting back with him. He fucked James, be serious. He tried it on at the party and I told him to get stuffed.”
“Right.” Albus crosses his arms. He feels himself shrinking back from Karl like the retracting tide. “Well. You can’t just come to me every time he upsets you to try and get back at him.”
“What?” the laughter drops from Karl’s face. “That’s—that’s so not what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, alright.” Albus sighs. He should have seen this coming. It’s the way it always goes. The weed is making his head foggy, but he knows the pattern well enough by now. It was stupid to let his hopes get the better of him. He’s been blindsided once again.
“Really, it’s not.” Karl insists.
“Sure, you just showed up here out of nowhere, high as fuck, offering to shotgun and being all—” he gestures wildly, “—the way you are.”
He regrets it immediately when Karl’s face falls even further.
“The way I am?” he leans back. “What does that mean?”
“No, no,” Albus rushes to correct, “it’s not a bad thing. It’s just—you’re very…alluring. And touchy. And attractive. And I mean, I love making out with you, but it’s a lot to deal with knowing that you’re just using me to make your ex jealous.”
There’s a vulnerable set to his jaw, but it softens as Albus speaks. Karl tilts his head and looks at him sideways. He takes his own airpod out and fiddles with it as he examines Albus.
“You think I’m alluring?”
“Obviously.” Albus answers, hoping that Karl assumes the red of his cheeks is from the cold.
He watches Karl’s mouth twitch as he struggles to hide his smile. When he looks at Albus again, his gaze is soft and far, far too tender.
“Why do you think I’m using you to make him jealous?” he asks, quietly.
Albus frowns.
“Because that’s what you always do?” he says, though he’s doubting himself now. “Every time you guys break up you come find me and we hook up somewhere he can see, and that’s fine. I’m your friend and I’m happy to help, but it does make me feel a bit shit about myself, to be honest.”
“But he’s not here right now,” Karl points out, confusion crosses his features. He looks around the room as if to double check. “And we broke up ages ago.”
“A month ago,” Albus corrects, then winces for being, once again, as transparent as glass.
Karl shrugs like that proves his point. “I don’t give a fuck about Matt. I’m here with you because I want to be here with you, it’s got nothing to do with him.”
“Right.” Albus tries very hard to keep his voice from wobbling. “Okay.”
The phone buzzes again. Karl tosses it across the room without even looking at it and it lands with a soft thud into Albus’s arm chair in the corner.
“You could do so much better,” Albus finds himself saying, then swallows hard. He can still taste Karl’s tongue. “Just, y’know, so you know.”
Karl nods. He’s been getting incrementally closer and it makes him nervous. “Yeah,” he licks his lips, “I could.”
“I didn’t mean—” Albus can hardly hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his head. Karl’s very close again now. “I didn’t mean me. I’m not going to be a rebound, I won’t—I won’t,” his eyes flicker unintentionally down to his kiss-bitten lips, “oh, fuck it.”
He kisses Karl again, pulled by some powerful magnet, and feels the thrill run down his spine and pool in his abdomen. Karl slides a hand beneath his sweatshirt and Albus ruts, accidentally into his hip. They both hiss at the contact and Albus shushes them in a panic.
“You’re not a rebound,” Karl presses into his mouth. “Really, I mean it."
Albus hums. “it’s okay,” he gasps, rolling over and pulling the weight of Karl against him, “weed makes me horny too, I really don’t mind.”
That makes Karl laugh, then it peters off into a low sound in the back of his throat when he rolls his hips again.
“You’re my friend,” he stutters, wandering hands seemingly everywhere all at once. “I’m not just horny.”
“Yeah, okay.” Albus isn’t going to argue just because he doesn’t believe him, and tomorrow, when things are back to normal, he won’t cry. He’ll have this, even if it’s all he’ll ever have.
He’s shocked when Karl pulls back, shaking his head.
“I really like you,” he says. There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes Albus stop. “You’re my best friend and you’re funny, and clever, and you’re always so nice to me. You make me feel good about myself. I really like you.”
Speechless, Albus can only look at him. The world is light and pleasantly blurry and all at once he wants to laugh. It’s so unbelievable and wonderful. He tries to hold it back but once the giggles start, he can’t make them stop. The urgency and heat dies, morphing into something softer as his body starts to shake with poorly concealed amusement.
“You’re laughing,” Karl says, shoulders dropping. That makes Albus giggle even more, the idea that Karl could ever think Albus would seriously laugh at him, it’s ridiculous.
“I’m not,” Albus manages through his laughter.
“You are!”
Albus shushes him quickly by covering his mouth with his hand, and the look of surprise on Karl’s face only make him laugh harder. He ends up shaking with the effort to suppress it and ends up taking the hand away to cover his own mouth. When he glances back at Karl, he can see him starting to smile too, and it isn’t long until they’re both gasping for breath and covering their mouths in futile attempts to keep the noise down.
“Why are we laughing?” Karl gets out eventually. They’re lying side by side, facing one another with tears streaming down their cheeks.
“I don’t know,” Albus gasps.
The mirth in Karl’s eyes is everything, they sparkle like stars in the darkness of his room and Albus likes him so, so much. So he tells him.
“I like you.” He says before bursting into giggles again. “I’ve liked you for so long. You’re so pretty and wonderful, and you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
Karl laughs so hard he has to pull Albus’s pillow out from beneath their heads and hold it over his face.
“No,” Albus whines, pulling it away, “I want to see your face.”
“I can’t believe you’re real,” Karl says, wiping the tears of laughter from his face. “I feel like I made you up and I’m dreaming this.”
“Nah, I’m way too fucked up for that.”
Karl swats him. Albus swats him back. They play fight each other, poking and smacking until Karl catches his wrist and pulls him in for a kiss. A million fireworks explode inside Albus’s chest, he can feel them fizzling and crackling everywhere, lighting up the room.
“You like me,” Karl whispers when he pulls back. His eyes are wide and full of disbelief.
“Yeah,” Albus answers. He pushes the hair out of his face again and keeps one hand tangled in it. “It’s kind of embarrassing how much I like you.”
Karl kicks his leg. “Well, I’m very proud of how much I like you.”
“Oh, it’s a competition is it?” Albus teases.
“Yep.”
“I missed that bit.”
“That’s alright, you never stood a chance.”
It’s amazing how easy and natural their banter still is. Albus feels like his face might split in half with how hard he’s smiling.
“I bet I’ve liked you for longer,” he counters.
“Bet you have not.”
Albus rolls his eyes and makes to roll over until Karl touches the side of his face and urges him to keep looking at him.
“You know how I kinda have a crush on everyone all the time?” Karl continues, wriggling closer to him. “Like how I’ve had a crush on all of you at least once?”
Albus does know. It’s the bane of his existence, Karl’s constant crushes and self-admitted inability to tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings. It drives him crazy with jealousy and hope in equal amounts.
“Yeah.”
“It never stopped with you,” he whispers, a confession in the dark. “I thought I was just super into you as a friend, but it’s always been different. It just took me a while to realise, and I never thought you’d like me back. I mean, you make out with everyone.”
“Not like this,” he says, “it’s different with you, always has been.”
Karl hold out his hand. It takes Albus a moment to realise he’s going for a high-five. He smacks their hands together and then holds on to it. He tangles their fingers together and watches Karl watch their joined hands.
“I wish I’d realised, I wish I’d known sooner.”
“Yeah?”
Karl nods. “Yeah. Would’ve saved us a lot of drama, probably. We could’ve been happy this whole time.”
Albus leans in and kisses him on the tip of the nose. It’s out of character for him, but he’s just too giddy to stop himself.
“We can be happy now, though.” He offers. It’s worth it for the way Karl looks at him, fond and full of awe.
It’s the most natural thing in the world when they kiss again. Karl presses him back in to the mattress, and some of that urgency from earlier returns, heat and desire intermingling when he kisses down Albus’s neck.
“Is your dad expecting you home?” Albus gasps.
“Nah,” Karl says into the place his shoulder meets his throat, “I told him I’d either stay round Ceeby’s or yours.”
“Presumptuous of you.”
“I don’t think so.” Albus can feel his teeth as he grins. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
The rest passes in a blur. A whispered “can I?” and an enthused nod. Karl’s hands fingering along his waistline, then down the front of his pants. Pulsing heat. Uncontrollable ecstasy. A hand over his mouth. Shared grins and muffled sounds. They shiver together, rocking into each other, and Albus is ruined for anyone else ever again by the time that it’s over.
“Fuck me,” he breathes.
“Just did.” Karl answers.
A few hours later, Albus wakes him up to do it again. Karl is only all too willing to oblige.
By five in the morning they’re sat on the kitchen floor shovelling dry cereal into their mouths with furious intent, declaring in hushed voices that it’s the best thing either of them has ever tasted. Albus keeps a hand on Karl’s thigh just because he can, squeezing it occasionally and leaning in to kiss whatever skin he can access.
He’s in the midst of kissing down his neck when the light flickers on.
“Flour boy!”
They look up just in time to see Harry’s look of horror as he backs speedily out of the room, switching the light back off.
“Fucking hell,” Albus whispers, dropping his head into his hands.
“Come on,” Karl laughs, tugging him to his feet, “let’s take it back to your room before your mum comes.”
“She loves you.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, much to Albus’s surprise, “but it’s her son I’m trying to win over.”
“James?” he says, just to be difficult.
“No, the really moody one,” he teases, “do you think I’ve got a chance?”
“I don’t think you’ve got a hope in hell.”
“Bastard.”
“Prick—mmph!”
Karl kisses him and everything makes sense. Finally.