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In an underground strip club in South London, Teddy’s world implodes. And on a random Monday, no less.
The day starts how it always does. He wakes up on the right side of the bed, makes his breakfast and arrives at work on time to receive his weekly assignment from the Head Auror. At the hand-off, he gives Teddy no indication that there is anything unusual about the case on the surface. Nothing to give Teddy pause and brace himself for the shitstorm that awaits him.
It’s not like his supervisor could have known. No one could have.
The brief is surprisingly… brief. It simply contains known information about the notorious strip club Allure, which isn’t much, an intercepted invite to the club, and his objective.
To gather intel.
As the sun sets on the day, it’s time for Teddy’s work to begin.
South Wizarding London has a seedy reputation and a bustling nightlife, which makes Teddy’s job all the easier. Wearing his nicest set of robes and his most unassuming features, the boring ones that help him blend into a crowd and make his face disappear in a sea of equally seedy-looking individuals, he arrives at Allure.
Teddy greets the troll at the door, flashes his invite and is admitted entrance with relative ease. He ducks his towering form through the doorway and walks into a completely different world.
Club Allure, he finds out, is aptly named.
The place reeks of opulence. Everything about it invites and entices leisure and luxury. From the ambient low lighting and the plush dragonhide furniture scattered throughout, to the finely dressed hosts weaving through the crowd and the scantily dressed dancers on the stage. There’s a gentle hum of magic thrumming in the air that prickles his skin.
To his left, Teddy sees the bar and makes his way to it, noting the finery extends beyond the counter to the expensive bottles of Elven wine and aged whisky on display. He orders a house cocktail and pays with Ministry galleons, takes a sip and lets the liquor burn down his throat as he turns back to the room.
He scans the crowd of patrons and employees, mentally cataloguing every face for future use. It would have been nice to know why Teddy’s here beyond the purpose of gathering information, but he’s learned long ago to focus on the brief, and the brief alone. Anything else is just a distraction.
That line of thought spectacularly blows up in his face when the next dancer is announced and walks on the stage, stealing all of Teddy’s focus, all of the air from his lungs.
Teddy recognises him immediately despite not having seen him in the years since he had supposedly left for uni and never looked back. He knows it’s him like he knows magic flows steadily through his veins. It’s Al.
Many thoughts and feelings flash through Teddy’s mind at once. Hurt, betrayal, and confusion among them. He also has questions, so many questions, none of which he can ask. He’s only here to observe, and observe he does.
It’s Al without a doubt, but the changes are… significant. His once shaggy mop of dark curls now look soft, tamed into something more elegant and refined. The long, lanky limbs of his youth have rounded and filled out with taut, lean muscle that shimmer in the light as he floats across the stage.
And it really does look like he’s floating, or flying. Trailing behind him is a wave of sheer fabrics in various shades of blue, connected to the back of the harness strapped across his chest and the gold cuffs at his wrists. It creates the illusion of wings, and Teddy doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.
His eyes travel down Al’s chest, past the fine dusting of dark hair, and snag on the bars of metal pierced through each pert nipple. Even from this distance, Teddy can tell the jewels on either side are the same brilliant shade of green as his eyes.
The hair on his chest continues lower and lower, disappearing beneath the only piece of clothing he’s actually wearing, a dark blue, almost black thong. The way the light’s reflecting, Teddy would bet it’s the finest Acromantula silk.
But underneath it all, despite it all, it’s the same Al he knows—knew, and loved.
The same too-green eyes he shares with his father, framed by the same smile lines he’s had since he was young enough to complain about premature aging. The same plush lips, curved into the same shy smile, and punctuated with that singular dimple that always appeared in his left cheek.
Peeking beneath the silk string slung low on his hips is the same crescent-shaped birthmark Teddy remembers well. His throat is suddenly tight, his brain gone foggy with memory that he swiftly represses.
Al dances, and Teddy can do nothing but watch and ignore the increasing tightness in his trousers. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes follow Al across the stage. He moves with a feline grace, approaching men in the audience with a twinkle of interest in his eye before moving onto the next, leaving the sorry blokes wanting for more. Teddy unfortunately relates.
Too quickly, Teddy drains the liquor from his glass and is craving another to mask the buzzing under his skin, or give him an excuse to blame it on something else. When he stands to head to the bar, for a fleeting moment, Al looks his way and their eyes meet, twin alarm bells go off reminding him of two very important things.
One, he is undercover. He needs to stop drawing attention to himself, of which is currently failing with all the blatant staring he can’t seem to stop doing. And two, probably more importantly, this is a conflict of interest.
But then Al continues playing to his audience, turning away without a flicker of recognition on his face whatsoever. Teddy ignores the pang of hurt in his chest at that, then chastises himself for there being one at all. Of course Al wouldn’t notice Teddy while he’s in disguise.
Teddy orders his drink and decides to linger near the bar, give himself some distance so he can try to bloody think. It’s a futile effort at best, every thought revolves around Al.
What is he doing here? How long has he been here? And where does that leave Teddy with this case?
Dancer after dancer takes stage the rest of the night, and Teddy’s eyes continually are drawn to Al’s flowy blue form. Not just because he’s an utter vision, but because this could be the last time he sees him, and Teddy wants to etch this version of him into his memory along with the other.
Tomorrow he will have to present his preliminary findings to the Lead Detective. The only thing he hasn’t decided yet is if he will tell them about Al.
***
Teddy’s moral dilemma extends late into the night as he sits at his desk, staring at the blank parchment before him. Desire wars with duty; what he wants against what is right, what he should do. He eventually drafts his report, and then drafts another. Only one of them includes Al’s name.
He tosses and turns all night, unable to shake the visions of Al when he closes his eyes. Al as he was last night, long limbs and elegant grace, and then the Al that only lives in his memories, all angles and boyish charm. Both equally forbidden.
The following morning, he wakes up late, on the wrong side of the bed, and doesn’t give himself time to eat breakfast before he’s rushing out of his flat with both versions of the report safely tucked away in his robes.
When Teddy rolls into the office thirty minutes later than he was supposed to, it’s to the sight of his partner of two years, grinning from ear to ear.
“Wow, Lupin. You look like shit,” says Detective Branson.
“Thanks, arsehole,” Teddy replies with a huff of laughter, slumping into his chair.
He scrubs a hand down his face in an attempt to fix his features, make them more appealing, but it’s a Herculean effort that doesn’t feel worth it. He knows he looks like shit because he feels like shit.
“I thought after your assignment yesterday you’d be a bit more… chipper?” Branson’s brows pump suggestively and Teddy groans.
“I was there for work, not pleasure, if you’ve already forgotten.”
“Oye, don’t make me seem like I’m some perv!” At Teddy’s quizzical look, Branson adds with a pout, “You are no fun.”
And honestly, Teddy can't disagree. He can't remember the last time he did anything fun, or even anything for himself.
He certainly hadn’t joined the aurors out of some misguided delusions of justice. No, it had been something much more foolish. Growing up, Teddy idolised his godfather. It felt like the natural order of things to follow in his footsteps, to want to be exactly like the person he admired most. Harry, who had loved Teddy so fiercely, treated him as if he were family, and let him want for nothing.
Until he wanted something that he couldn’t have.
And since he couldn’t have what he wanted most, he threw himself into being exactly like him. But where has that left him now? A partner with awful jokes, a badge he no longer truly wants, and living his life as a pale imitation of a man he could never be.
A knock at the door pulls Teddy’s attention from his musings, and in walks none other than Harry himself.
“Auror Potter, what a surprise!” Branson jumps up and starts to straighten his mess of a desk.
Harry lingers in the doorway, nods to Branson and turns to Teddy with a hint of that ever-present smirk.
“Late night?”
Teddy heaves a put upon sigh before answering, “Not you too. I worked on my report all night, sir. I haven’t had the chance to turn it in yet.”
“I’m headed that way now, I can take it up for you,” Harry says as he makes his way towards Teddy’s desk.
“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, that’d be great.” Teddy tries to not let the panic show on his face while the weight of both reports sit heavy in his inner robe pockets.
Sooner than Teddy has mentally prepared for it, he needs to make a decision. Harry’s there, holding his hand out, and it’s somewhat a balm that the proximity doesn’t sting like it used to.
Standing before him in the flesh is a clear reminder of what it's like to want and not have. And then his mind flashes to Al, Harry’s son. Teddy should want to let him know where he is, that he’s been right under their noses this whole time.
But Teddy realises in the moment that while he’s given himself two options, there has only ever been one outcome. He wants to see Al again. He feels it so strongly, like a vice grip around his heart. He wants it maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything before.
Defying all logic and reason, Teddy lets himself be selfish for once. He reaches into his pocket for the report without Al’s name and hands it over with a smile.
***
It’s five days until Teddy’s assignment requires him back at Allure. The time in between, he cannot stop thinking about Al.
He revisits the duplicate report of his visit to Allure an embarrassing number of times, as if reading Al’s name instead of simply thinking it will ease any of the tension in his body. It does not.
When Harry stops by his office as he tends to do, Teddy finds himself studying those familiar features and then thinks of who else they belong to. The wavy hair, strong dark brow, and those eyes. Teddy has always known they’ve held a strong resemblance, but after seeing Al last night for the first time in years, he knows that time has only sharpened those similarities.
Throughout the week, Teddy struggles with his caseload and keeps making rookie mistakes. He thought he’d done a good enough job managing things while his mind lay elsewhere, but when Branson of all people calls him out on his many shortcomings over the past few days, he knows it’s gotten pretty bad.
It ends up being one of the longest weeks of Teddy’s life.
The day of his return to the club blessedly arrives without fanfare. It's just another normal Monday to everyone else, but Teddy’s practically buzzing with anticipation as he waits for the end of his shift.
He goes through the same routine, carefully applying his facial features one by one until he’s unrecognisable again, then Apparates a few streets down from Allure. Once inside and with a drink in hand, Teddy starts to make his way to the same table near the back, but finds himself gravitating towards an open spot much closer to the side of the stage with a better view.
Teddy sits and nurses his glass and tries not to fidget, but nervous energy courses through his body now that the moment he’s been waiting for all week is finally here. After an eternity, the lights dim and the show begins.
Dancer after dancer take the stage, their body movements equally captivating and erotic. All of them are beautiful, but none of them are Al.
The excitement Teddy had felt so strongly earlier curdles in his stomach, contorting into impatience and frustration. Keeping his eyes on the stage proves an impossibility as he continuously looks to the wings, the audience, then back to the stage to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. He hasn’t.
The longer the show goes on, the heavier Al’s absence feels. When the show eventually concludes over an hour later, Teddy tells himself it’s not disappointment that’s weighing him down. Whatever the feeling is, he sits in it like the fool he is and waits for half of the shuffling crowd to file out while the rest settle in for the remainder of the night.
Amidst all the movement around him, Teddy’s auror instincts go up when he sees from the corner of his eye someone take the recently vacated seat beside him.
“Looking for someone?”
Al’s voice hits Teddy like a bucket of cold water, and it takes everything in him to not look his way at once with all the sudden relief flooding through him. Instead, he schools his borrowed features into a mask of calm that he does not feel.
Teddy turns slowly and there Al is, just as radiant as he was a week ago, only now he’s much, much closer. He steadies his breathing and lies through his teeth. “No, just waiting for the bar to clear up.” He raises his empty glass and shakes it, the clinking ice serving as a flimsy alibi.
“Could have fooled me.” The corner of Al’s mouth curls in a teasing smirk. He leans in and lowers his voice to add, “Detective.”
The water turns to ice in Teddy’s veins, panic seizing his throat making it hard to breathe. But the panic is then replaced with confusion when Al’s light expression isn’t replaced with the sneer he expects from being caught on this side of a Blast-Ended Screwt.
“You… know?” he barely manages to say.
“You’re certainly not the first to be assigned here, and won’t be the last. You all have that look about you. Besides, I’m good with faces, and I haven’t seen you here before.” Al pauses, his head tilting a fraction as he looks Teddy up and down, apparent heat behind his hooded lids. “I think I would have recognised you.”
Teddy feels warm under the weight of Al’s attention while his mind races. He hadn’t planned for this interaction, hadn’t planned a failsafe if he was caught. He didn’t think he’d need one. How could he have been so stupid?
“What do you want me to do?” Teddy asks, even though he knows his options are limited. He also knows he should just get up and leave, cut his losses, but Al’s assessing gaze pins him to the spot.
No sooner has the question left Teddy’s lips, a laugh emerges from Al, and it’s a light, airy thing, a sharp contrast to the heaviness Teddy feels in his chest. “Oh, I don’t get paid enough to care about any of that. But there is something I do want.”
“That would be?”
“For you to buy me a drink.”
Teddy can hardly think straight, let alone form a coherent response in the wake of his world being flipped on its axis once again when Al stands up and makes for the bar, not even turning to see if he will follow. Presumptuous, Teddy thinks, but not wrong.
It’s a short walk there, and Teddy uses the opportunity to look at Al without restraint.
He'd originally thought Al was wearing the same flowing outfit as before, but as he moves under the ambient light, he notices the cascading fabric shifts with every step he takes. The blues continuously fade into cerulean teals and deep indigos, then vibrant purples and pastel pinks; it’s a dizzying kaleidoscope of colour.
Teddy also notices other things. A small tattoo at the base of Al’s neck in the shape of a heart. Below that, the shifting muscles in his back as he walks, evidence of a dancer’s hard-earned strength. Around his tapered waist hangs a delicate gold chain. And lower still, an arse that looks like it belongs on a statue in a damned museum.
Too quickly, they arrive at the bar and two seats miraculously open up as they approach. Teddy’s still reeling from the last five minutes but manages to place their order and pay with most of his dignity still in check. He knows he has a losing hand, but it seems the game isn’t over and Teddy’s never been one to fold.
After the bartender leaves to make their drinks, Teddy musters the courage to turn to Al only to find he’s already looking at him. His chin rests on his open palm and his expression is both pleased and predatory.
“So,” Al says, leaving space for the unspoken ‘Detective’. “Did you enjoy the show tonight?”
“Yes, but…” Al raises an expectant brow, and Teddy trails his gaze indulgently down Al’s body before continuing, “It was… missing something.”
Al shifts a bit closer, amusement clear on his face. “Picky one, aren’t we?”
“Something like that, I guess.” The bartender delivers their drinks during the lull in conversation, and Teddy’s grateful to finally have something to occupy his restless hands again. He takes a hearty gulp of his Firewhisky then asks, “Did you have the night off?” By Al’s elaborate outfit, he doesn’t think so, but he can’t help asking anyway.
Al wraps his lips around the tiny straw poking out of his glass and takes a long sip. Each excruciating second that passes feels like an hour.
“No,” Al responds with a sly curl to his lips. “I had a private room booked.”
That’s not what Teddy had been expecting at all. This new information sends his pulse racing and his imagination running wild.
“Does that bother you?”
“No! Not at all.” Teddy’s reply swiftly spills from his lips. It shocks him that he doesn’t say it to not offend Al, but because it’s the truth.
“Good,” Al says simply, satisfied. “I am off for the rest of the night though.” His hand is suddenly on Teddy’s knee and sliding up his thigh. And for some godsforsaken reason, he leans in, his breath ghosting across Teddy’s neck. “I could show it to you.”
Teddy feels like a Bombarda about to go off with all the built-up tension thrumming through his body. He moves his hand to cover Al’s, to still the movement and delay the inevitable.
“Why–” The question comes out as a breathless plea. Al pulls back, his brow pinched in disappointment. Teddy hurries to add, “Why would you do that? Especially knowing why I’m here.”
“Oh, I know why you came here the first time.” Al’s hand resumes its path up Teddy’s leg until he’s grasping Teddy’s achingly hard cock through his trousers. “And I know it’s not the same reason why you came back tonight.”
“You do?” Teddy asks shakily. Fear momentarily piercing through him, he chances a glance to the mirrored glass behind the bar. His reflection is still that of a stranger. He’s safe, for now.
“It’s simple, really. We want the same thing, you and I,” Al continues in his soft, conversational tone. He gives a firm squeeze around Teddy’s cock, making his point. Teddy stifles a groan, and in the low light, Al’s green eyes twinkle with his approval. He then curls his fingers into Teddy’s waistband, hooking his thumb on the button and tugging him to the edge of his seat. “I’ll make this very easy for you. I will get up from this seat and you will follow me to my private quarters. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Teddy says around the lump in his throat.
“Good.”
Al slides off his stool and almost disappears into the crowd before Teddy remembers he has feet. He nearly stumbles trying to catch up, and when he does, he reaches for Al’s extended hand and lets himself be lured away.
It’s a winding path through long, dark corridors of the club and as they reach their destination, Teddy realises he hadn’t even thought or considered trying to remember his way back out.
The door swings open and Al yanks Teddy inside, then pushes him against the wall with surprising strength. All the air whooshes out of Teddy’s lungs, leaving him panting like a prey caught in a very pretty trap.
There’s no time to examine his surroundings, or even Al standing before him, when Al shoots to his tiptoes, plants his hands on either side of Teddy’s face and kisses him hard.
Al’s lips are soft, but that’s the only soft thing about him. The kiss is searing, demanding, just like the hands that are now unclasping his cloak. It falls to the ground as Al’s coaxing tongue meets Teddy’s, attempting to deepen the kiss. But Teddy can only give as much as his latent guilt will allow. He’s still lying to Al, and the sudden wrongness of it hits him.
“I–” Teddy mutters.
Al pulls away, his pale skin flushed and his chest rapidly rising and falling with every breath. There’s a frown marring his brow that Teddy wants to wipe away. With a flick of his wrist, Al throws up an impressive privacy charm, the feel of his magic thick in the air and the taste sweet on his tongue.
“You’ve always been too chivalrous for your own good. You can drop the act, Teddy. I know it’s you.”
The admission and the intensity of Al’s gaze stun Teddy. He’s at a complete loss for what to do or say. None of it makes any sense.
“Al, how..?”
Al approaches again, slowly places his hands back on Teddy’s face, his bright eyes searching Teddy’s. “I’ll always recognise you, no matter what. But if it’s all the same, I do prefer the original.”
Teddy’s guard falls, as do all of his disguises. He feels his face morphing back into shape, and sees in his periphery his hair return to its usual teal.
“Much better,” Al says, stepping forward and pressing his thigh against Teddy’s still-hard cock. “Now let’s try that again.”
This time, when Al tilts his chin up and his lips meet Teddy’s, it’s a slow conquering and a total surrender. Al tears down every one of Teddy’s walls, leaving him defenceless. Teddy feels stripped bare, raw, and seen, for what feels like the first time in as long as he can remember.
Teddy has let himself imagine this moment more times than he’d care to admit within the last week, and none of those scenarios compare to the reality of kissing Al. Now that he's started, he doesn’t want to stop.
“I want you to touch me,” Al says against Teddy’s lips, his eyelashes brushing against Teddy’s cheek.
Until that moment, he hadn’t realised his hands were braced flat against the wall behind him. Now hovering at his sides, unsure, Al trails a light touch down Teddy’s arms, encircling his wrists and guiding his hands to his waist and the wide expanse of exposed skin.
Contact with the delicate gold chain that taunted him earlier flips a switch in Teddy, and he tightens his grip, pulling Al flush against his chest. The fabric hanging from Al’s body, now clutched in his hands, is just as soft as it looks.
“Fuck, Al. What are we doing? What are you doing?”
“Why don’t I show you?” Al looks up at him through his thick lashes, blinks in what feels like slow motion. And Teddy doesn’t argue, because he’s only a man after all.
Al presses a quick kiss to the corner of Teddy’s mouth, then turns and leads him further into the room. Lumos-lit sconces line the emerald walls, a plush rug under his feet, and Al—glorious Al—is pushing him into a large armchair.
Teddy inelegantly falls into the cushions and Al falls to his knees in front of him. Breathing heavy, Teddy watches deft hands unbutton his trousers, lifting his hips as Al pushes them down his body. Teddy’s heavy cock slaps against his stomach, the sound loud in the quiet room. Part of him feels like he should be embarrassed, but Al’s hungry gaze only makes him feel desired.
“You don’t have to–” Warm hands spread his legs, and then a hot mouth swallows him whole. “FuckingMerlinandMorgana–”
Teddy’s grasping the armrests for dear life as Al thoroughly destroys him. He watches in fascination as Al bobs his head, watches his mouth stretch around him, watches silent tears prick at the corner of his eyes, watches one hand wrap around the base of Teddy’s cock while the other reaches behind himself to–
“Fuck, Al–” Teddy whimpers.
All of his senses are overwhelmed, he pinches his eyes closed to keep from coming too soon and actually embarrassing himself.
Then the wet heat of Al’s mouth is suddenly gone.
“Eyes on me,” Al says, soft and demanding.
Teddy obeys, wrenching them open to find Al’s swollen lips impossibly pink and shiny, curved into a devastating smile.
“Good boy,” Al purrs. Teddy groans at the two words, his cock twitching in Al’s hand as evidence to their immediate effect. Al hums a sound of approval that shoots right to his bollocks.
Al’s liquid-warm gaze is fixed on Teddy as he starts licking the sensitive head of his cock, and this time Teddy doesn’t dare look away. Al pumps his fist with lazy, slow strokes that turn purposeful, his tongue swirling and cheeks hollowing, and Teddy’s back at the precipice of his release.
Teddy’s hands shoot up from the armrest, his fingers threading into Al’s hair to control his pace, to prevent himself from coming in Al’s mouth. Blessedly, he slows, only to then take him further and further down his throat until his nose is buried in the thick patch of coarse hair at his groin.
Al stays there like that, for what seems like forever, his mouth stuffed with Teddy’s cock, looking up at him through glassy eyes. He eventually pulls off with an obscene pop.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Al,” Teddy murmurs. “Get up here, will you?”
“Picky and bossy now?” Al says as he moves to straddle Teddy’s lap. He settles right over Teddy’s throbbing cock which is now steadily leaking from the tip, and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s getting his delicate fabrics soiled.
“I suppose so,” Teddy says.
“Any other requests?” Al asks, eyes bright with amusement.
Teddy’s gaze darts down to Al’s shiny lips and he says, “Kiss me again.”
He lets out a huff of laughter, lighter than air, leans in and whispers against Teddy’s lips, “So needy, this one.”
“Yes,” Teddy says, closing the gap and capturing Al’s lips, tasting himself on Al’s tongue. “I am.”
“Anything else?” Al asks when they come up for air, panting and breathless.
“I’d like to fuck you now,” Teddy says, his hands at Al’s hips, pulling at the stubborn strings of his thong until they start to come loose.
“Salazar, you’re not here just to interrogate me?” Al says in mock-surprise, a teasing lilt. With a snap of his fingers, he vanishes the fine material to some unknown place.
“Have you always been this much of a brat?” The question comes out ragged, now with nothing separating them and Al’s cock nudging insistently against Teddy’s stomach.
“Hmmm, something tells me you already know the answer.”
With a wordless charm of his own, Teddy presses one slick finger into Al, then easily slides in a second thanks to Al’s earlier preparations. Teddy delights in Al’s arched back, his flushed skin, and his parted lips.
The sight of Al stretched out before him is a sight to behold, and shining right at eye level are his dusty, jeweled nipples. Impulse and desire take over as he leans forward and captures one in his mouth, warming the cool metal with his tongue.
“More,” Al begs.
“Think you can take it?” Teddy teases, adding a third finger, flexing and curling them just so. He watches for the moment Al’s expression falters when he brushes against his prostate.
“I fucking know I can,” Al breathes hoarsely, followed by a gutteral moan.
“Show me then.”
Removing his fingers, Teddy fists the base of his cock in one hand, then uses the other to lift Al and align their bodies, his hands braced on Teddy’s shoulders, nails digging into his flesh. Inch by devastating inch, Al begins to lower himself, the tip easing past the ring of muscle until Teddy’s cock is engulfed in the tight heat of Al’s arse.
“Godsdamn, Al, you feel perfect,” Teddy says on a punched-out groan when he bottoms out.
“See?” Al says with some effort, the corner of his lips curving in triumph as he moves above Teddy.
“Yeah–” Teddy rasps. He tightens his grip on Al’s waist, guiding his canting hips, and tries to stave off the impending release he feels licking at the base of his spine. “I fucking see.”
What Teddy doesn’t see is how there’s any coming back from this. He doesn’t want to return to the version of his life where he didn’t know this Al existed. This fun, flirty, beautiful, independent man. A man who sees him for who he is, can pick him out of a crowd while he wears a stranger’s face. Now that he’s found him, he doesn’t want to let him go.
Teddy wraps his arms around Al and pulls him closer as their movements become frantic with need, the only sound in the room is that of their heavy breathing and slapping skin.
“Touch yourself,” Teddy says, desperate, against the delicate curve of Al’s collarbone.
Al obeys and Teddy can feel he’s close, too. He trails kisses up the column of Al’s throat, incoherent thoughts tumbling from his lips until he reaches Al’s, which part perfectly with a soft sigh. Al licks into Teddy’s mouth, their tongues brush and he devours all of the sounds Teddy can no longer hold back.
Knuckles dance across Teddy’s stomach as Al strokes himself, the light touch driving him closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.
And then Al’s clenching around him with a strangled, “Fuck, Teddy–” and spurting hot ropes of come across Teddy’s chest. The sight of Al’s face screwed up in pleasure, combined with hearing his name on Al’s tongue, sends Teddy spiraling into his own blinding climax. Sparks ignite all over his body, and it feels like he’s dying, or being reborn.
Al falls against Teddy’s chest, a sticky mess between them, and fits his head in the crook of his neck like it belongs there. Their breathing is heavy and uneven for a good long while, and they simply sit in the comfortable silence, basking in each other’s warmth.
But the silence is weighed down by its finite existence. They both know they can’t stay like this forever, no matter what Teddy wants, or what is realistic in the grand scheme of things. And he does know what he wants, he just doesn’t know how to ask for it, or if he should.
He shifts in the armchair, rousing sleepy mumblings from Al who’s still nuzzling into him. Teddy smiles a private, pleased smile and can’t help but laugh a little at the impossibility of their situation.
“Can’t we stay like this a little longer?” Al murmurs.
“As long as you’ll have me.”