The receiver of this gift was: "freakingcrups"

Here was the prompt I worked from: Marcus/Adrian (rare pair), jealousy, wall!sex, first time, secret relationship

To Unseenlibrarian: You are so wonderful, you know? THANK YOU for the beta and the encouragement!

Thank you to the HP_ValenSmut Mods – this was a wonderful fest to participate in!

DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Post-Hogwarts-EWE (2004).

MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey

SUMMARY: As Adrian prepares for a future that will include a witch he's not in love with – marrying her for the sake of his pure-blood lineage – he can't forget the one man who slipped into his life five years previously, took his virginity, and stole his heart: his best friend, Marcus Flint. But Marcus has moved on, and now Adrian has to come to terms with doing the same. As he sits alone in a quiet room, seeking closure and accepting the loveless future that looms on the horizon, he's about to come face-to-face with the past he'd thought long over. "You can't hide the truth from me… You're only mine, remember?"

RATING/WARNINGS: NC-17/MA - Explicit homosexual situations (snogging, oral sex, implied intercourse), Profanity, Alcohol consumption, Consensual Cheating

**IMAGES for this fanfic can be found by going here (remove all spaces from the URL to make it load properly): http:/ / s905 . photobucket . com / albums / ac260 / RZZMG / Only%20Mine /



Escaping the overcrowded ballroom that the Ministry had rented for the night for the annual Charity Valentine's Masquerade Ball, Adrian loosened his costume's front clasps and unzipped the sweltering jacket, throwing it wide open so he could actually breathe.

Gods, that was much better!

This Muggle costume had been the shittiest idea in history! Really, what the hell was a 'fireman,' anyway, and why would the bloke wear something as stifling as this sodding jacket and these stupid trousers and boots?

Frankly, he was overheated and felt absolutely ridiculous in this ensemble that his fiancée, Hestia, had picked out for him for tonight's event. He was terribly tempted to shuck the whole bloody outfit on the spot, in fact – and would have, had he thought to bring a change of clothing. The only thing that stopped him from stripping down and pretending to be a partial-nudist was the fact that this soiree was his launching pad back into society, and it wouldn't do to poke about in nothing but his Y-fronts and socks, especially in front of the Minister, his snooty entourage, many of his old classmates, and those vulture reporters attempting to scoop a story.

Why was it so bloody hot in that damned hall? Hadn't someone thought in advance to provide a general Area-Of-Effect Cooling Charm on the place? That seemed fairly straightforward when you were packing over five hundred people into a space that barely accommodated such a mob. It was preposterous and ill-planned not to have considered something that trivial!

He knew he was suffering a mild panic attack; they came upon him occasionally when he was out in the general public and surrounded by all those knowing eyes. He just needed some air and quiet to settle his nerves, so he headed down the corridor until he came to a 'T' intersection. Choosing to go left, he discovered a series of smaller, closed-off rooms that were obviously used for private party rentals. Choosing one at random, he quietly snuck in and looked about.

It was much cooler in the squarish meeting room, and far enough away from the main ballroom to allow Adrian a moment of peace and quiet in the dark so he could compose his thoughts and relax a bit. A series of small windows with sheer white curtains ran along the far wall, and allowed for enough of the moonlight to penetrate for him to see the shadowy outline of his hand, and the chairs and the conference table in the middle of the room.

"Hominem Revelio," he softly called out the spell and flicked his wand, but nothing glowed to indicate another living being was in the room. Good, he was alone – finally!

Not wanting to cast a Lumos yet, as he took solace in the lack of bright lights, Adrian carefully made his way over towards the table and drew out one of the cushioned chairs. Plunking his bum down, he leaned back and let out a sigh of relief, tossing his wand onto the table in front of him.

Ahhh, blissful solitude! He'd grown accustomed to it, living alone for years in his family's ancestral home, Tarns House in Herefordshire. With his father still in Azkaban – as he would be for the next decade, until his Wizengamot sentence had been fulfilled for having taken the Dark Lord's side during the war – and his mother preferring to live in their Scottish country estate to avoid the gossip of the Pucey family's fall from pure-blood society's graces, Adrian had become a man who enjoyed the privacy, silence, and space that his home afforded.

That was, until Hestia Carrow had come around this last year and turned his whole world upside down.

Last June, in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday, his former Housemate – who had bloomed into a lovely young witch - had appeared on his front step and told him in no uncertain terms that she'd fancied him back in school, had watched him for the past five years to see what he would make of the mess he'd been thrown into post-war, and would now no longer tolerate him hiding away. Amused by her audacity and her courage, he'd invited her in for tea.

She'd insinuated herself into every corner of his life since, and had drawn him out of the shell of his home to face the world. True, her insistent cajoling and general bossiness got on his last nerve, but he had to admit that what she was doing was actually quite a brilliant plan for reintegrating his family name into society and repairing the damage to the Pucey reputation. Shrill though her voice could get when she was vexed with him, he had to admit that she was good for him.

If only he could make himself want her, they would be quite a fetching pair.

He shut his eyes, and once again, the unwanted memories of the summer after his trial had ended returned in full force, leaving him aching in his loins and his chest. Why couldn't he let it go? It had only been a couple of months they'd been together…

Fuck, who was he kidding? It had been nine and a half weeks of blissful, taboo wantonness that he'd wildly indulged in to celebrate his freedom with the only other person in the world who'd truly understood his suffering.


Adrian's former best friend had been required to take the Dark Mark by his loyal Death Eater father in the weeks after Voldemort's regime had taken the Ministry. They'd shared the experience of having been terrorized into compliance and forced to do evil things under duress, and it had been Flint who had eventually taught him how to lock away the truth of his personal fear and disgust deep in his heart through the art of Occlumency - a trick the man had learned from his mum to protect him from his father's wrath.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, the two of them had completely bucked orders and didn't raise their wands except to defend themselves as they'd made their way down to the Slytherin common room. There, they sat out the fighting with others who were in the same predicament as they were – forced to take the Mark, but not wanting any part of the madness above. There, in the eerie, greenish glow cast from the Black Lake through the windows, alongside Hestia and her twin, Flora, Theodore Nott, Terrence Higgs, Gemma Farley, and Graham Pritchard, Adrian and Marcus had sat on the black leather couches, attempting to be as quiet as mice, and praying for Voldemort to lose. When the fighting had come to an end and The Bloody Baron had stuck his head through the wall to announce that Potter had won, the eight deserters had scrabbled up without a word and fled the dungeon for freedom. An hour later, it had been Adrian who had held Marcus as he'd wept in relief when they'd found his father's corpse lying half-buried under some rubble.

It had been a great comfort to both of them when they'd been imprisoned next to each other at Azkaban as they'd awaited their turn at trial a month later, for at least they had been able to keep each others' spirits up.

When they'd both been freed by the Wizengamot a few weeks later, Flint had returned home to discover that his mum had scuttled away to Germany to live with relatives after the war, locking up the Flint's ancestral Manor house with powerful wards and putting a freeze on all of the money in their vaults. So, Marcus had come to live with Adrian at Tarns while he went to court again, this time to get his due as sole heir. The timing was perfect, as by then, Adrian's mother had left England as well, and his father had been assigned a long-term cell in prison, leaving him quite alone in the big house.

Despite being a man of twenty by then, Adrian had always been rather shy when it came to his attractions to others; he'd never quite worked up the nerve to do much more than kiss a girl when he'd been in school. Then the war had come and taken all of his opportunities away. As a result, he'd never had the chance to experience sex.

That he would end up giving his virginity to Marcus on a humid, late July night had been the last thing Adrian had expected.

"Say you're only mine, Addy, from now on."

"I'm yours, Marc. I promise – only yours."

In retrospect, that his first encounter had been with the man who was his best friend had seemed almost fated. It had certainly felt very natural to him at the time, anyway, and he still held no regrets. He'd even believed it to be real love between them, for his part – especially when Flint had won his court case and was awarded back his ancestral home and half the money in his family's vaults, and yet he had chosen to stay on at Tarns by Adrian's side and in his bed.

Despite the fact Marcus had never outwardly said he loved Adrian, the affair had given him hope nonetheless when there was little to be found in the brokenness of the war's aftermath. And he was quite arrogantly confident that if he remained patient, Flint would eventually say those three, little words that Adrian so desperately wanted to hear from the man.

But then the dream had died, and he had been alone with the harsh reality of his situation – and all because Terrence Higgs, a new recruiter for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had come to them that October and pitched them on joining the Auror Apprenticeship Program, citing the need to help put away the Death Eaters who had escaped justice.

"Only then will we be truly free of Voldemort's hold on us," he'd stated with great fervor.

The man's words were persuasive nettles under their brains as he'd reminded them both of that night not so long ago in the Slytherin common room, when the eight of them had courageously defied the most powerful dark wizard of their time.

"Because we knew his cause was wrong," Terry had convincingly stated. "Just like I know you'll come to see that this cause is right."

He'd held up the recruitment pamphlet, punctuating the air with it as he'd drawn his argument to a close. Before he'd left them to their thoughts, he'd pressed the leaflet in Marcus' hand.

That was where Adrian's regrets truly began.

If only he had grabbed that infernal piece of paper from his lover's grip and burned the damned thing up in the fire! A part of him knew how Marcus would react; somewhere between taking the Dark Mark the year before and the day Higgs appeared at his doorstep, Flint had apparently developed a tortured conscience that had needed appeasing. Yet, Adrian had stayed his hand and let the brochure be.

The next day, Marcus had informed him that he'd decided to answer Higgs' call to arms.

Feeling that he was losing all that he'd held dear, and in blind desperation, Adrian had given Marcus an ultimatum: stay, or leave and never look back. It had been stupid to corner Flint like that, and he now regretted the words, but in that moment, he'd been so bitter and angry at the thought of being abandoned that he'd let pride take the mouthpiece.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this," his lover had informed him, his features set and resolute.

Panicked and furious, Adrian had snapped. "Fine, you want to act all noble? Then, go. I don't need you! I'll find someone else!"

Marcus hadn't replied to that. He hadn't said goodbye or looked back. He hadn't whispered, "I love you," either, as Adrian had fervently hoped. He'd simply stepped into the Floo and called out for the Ministry of Magic as the green sparkling dust drifted to his feet. In a roar of sound and a brilliant flash of light, it was over between them.

As the years passed, Adrian's jealousy and disappointment gnawed away at him, and he'd avoided all interpersonal relationships as a result, soured to the idea. What made it worse that it was near impossible to ignore his former lover's success when Marcus had begun hauling in escapee Death Eaters and letting the justice system throw down its hammer of righteousness upon their heads. The newspapers continually reported on the success of the new generation of Aurors, of which Flint prominently figured.

With every headline, Adrian's bitterness had doubled. The regrets had piled up. He'd been forced to channel all that energy into work to keep it from eating him alive, turning to transferring some of his family's fortune into wise investments and in rebuilding the Pucey name through charity work. Slowly, he'd entered board rooms to listen in on meetings, then he insinuated himself into those discussions. He was just now on the cusp of gaining significant influence at Gringotts and on the Board of Governors, alongside other "redeemed" Slytherins, like the Malfoy heir and Carmen Zabini's son. Another five years, and Adrian knew he'd have his own name plate at a table at each institution…

His success wasn't enough to make the stabbing pain go away during those restless moments just before sleep, though, when he'd let his mind stroll through memories of more erotic times. Quite often, his hand would wander as well… and in those situations, it always ended the same: his fingers sticky with his hot come, and his chest so filled with a dark despair that he wanted to put his wand to his temple and just end it all.

Time was meant to heal all wounds, but it seemed he wasn't one of those lucky fuckers who could claim such a cliché as his own. Hell, if five years hadn't cured his broken heart, he knew he'd most likely never get over Marcus Atticus Flint.

Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts of anything having to do with his ex. As always, it was a difficult path to emptiness, but he knew if he stayed here for another hour or so, he'd get to that point and then he could head back into the throng of lions and hyenas, and stand his ground.

The door to the conference room opened. For a moment, the silhouette of a man could be seen backlit by the light outside in the corridor, but the face was too inked in darkness to make out its features.

"Room's taken," Adrian sighed, expecting that would be all he'd need to say for the intruder to turn around and leave.

To his great displeasure, the stranger didn't take the hint. He remained in the doorway for several more moments before resolutely stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. Adrian heard the click of the lock, and sat up in his chair, reaching for his wand, his senses on high alert. He prepared two spells, using the cover of darkness to point his wand where he assumed the other man would be standing. "Didn't you hear me?" he growled, painting his words with a dripping menace. "I said get lost!"

"No, Adrian. Not this time."

Adrian's breath hitched in his chest, coming out as a nearly-silent gasp. He recognized that voice. It may have been five years, but you never forgot that special way your lover pronounced your name.

No, he was being ridiculous. This was a case of his imagination transposing-

"-my voice onto another? Not likely," Marcus finished his thought, having read his mind with a delicate form of Legilimency that Adrian didn't even know was possible. "It's really me, Addy."

What the hell did they teach a person in Auror training to have that kind of power?

"I'm a specialist in mind magic," his former lover explained, and Adrian could feel the tingle in the air as a spell was cast. "All of those weeks of living in your head during that summer… I learned how to manipulate my way around the brain, much as our previous Master did. Only, I use the gift for good."

Adrian made his feet, and stepped silently and cautiously several feet away to the left. "Nice attempt at distraction. Bringing up our shared past like that might have worked a few years ago. Now, why don't you tell me what you just cast."

Flint was silent, but Adrian could sense his movement. He shifted to try to anticipate where the man would be, not sure of Marcus's intentions, but paranoid enough to worry that they might not be so benevolent.

"You're suspicious of me?" his ex whispered the question against the nape of his neck, amused by the idea.

Shite, he hadn't even realized the guy was that close! He made to jump away, but a pair of powerfully built arms wrapped about him, pinning him in place. He was roughly pulled back into the solid mass of well-muscled flesh that still carried the same earthy-musky scent that he'd so deeply imprinted upon once-upon-a-time.

"That's rich, Addy, since I'm not the one trying to become a puppet-master of influential boardrooms."

"Bloody hell, what do they feed you in Auror school to bulk you up so much?" Adrian snarked, falling back on sarcasm to cover his embarrassment-slash-fear-slash-arousal. "Baby trolls?"

Marcus's mouth hovered over the whorl of his ear as he waited for Adrian to settle down. When he stopped struggling, his question was answered in a manner that told him Flint had no intention of hurting him.

"Not trolls - virgin boys. Didn't you know?"

Adrian snorted. "Bet you're in heaven, then."

Marcus's nose traced along the shell, breathing hot air against Adrian's sensitive skin. "I've only ever taken one virgin to my bed." When his tongue snaked out and licked it, Adrian drew in a deep breath and hissed, tilting his head away. "Can you guess who that might be, Addy?"

"It was my bed, you bastard," he snarled, and flexed his arms to loosen Marcus's hold, pulling his weight forward to try and dislodge the man.

Flint's training, however, clearly had taught him the finer points of wrestling a perp, and he now outweighed his opponent by several stone. Like a constrictor snake, he tightened his embrace and then he leaned his weight back on the table, throwing Adrian's center of gravity off. Frustrated, knowing that some game was afoot that he didn't understand, and that Marcus was using sex as a weapon against him, he tilted his wand back as far as he could and cast a non-verbal Stinging Hex, hoping it would give him leverage to get away.

Flint laughed and jerked Adrian hard once in warning. "Missed me by a mile. You've let your spell-casting become sloppy. Tsk. Tsk." His arm slid down and his hand gripped the wand, yanking it from Adrian's grasp. "Maybe you shouldn't have this back until you get in more practice, hmm?"

There was a jolting motion, and then Adrian heard his wand hit the back wall as Flint casually threw it away. His heart sped up with real fear then. Unarmed and outclassed in strength and technique, he knew he had no chance of getting away. "What the bloody hell do you want from me, Marc?" he growled, striking back in the only way left to him. "What, Higgs and his crusade not enough for you? Or are you and lover boy broken-up? That's it, isn't it? You thought you'd troll for a rebound and so came looking for me."

Marcus was oddly silent behind him, but his grip didn't let up.

"Well, forget it. You're too late," he continued, wanting to hurt his ex as much as he was hurting. "I'm with Hestia Carrow now, and she's given me what you never could, Marc – the possibility of a future."

Those constricting arms tightened and Flint's breath sawed from his lungs with increasing ire.

Finally, he was getting a reaction. And now he understood why his former lover was toying with him, rather than simply continuing to ignore him: to pick up where they'd left off. He'd obviously heard about Carrow insinuating her little self into his life and was finally jealous enough to come crawling back.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," he taunted. "I'm going to take her as my wife – and to my bed."

"Stop," Marcus demanded, tensing even more.

"She'll bear my children," Adrian forced the words past his teeth. "I'll take care of her in ways you couldn't imagine. I'll give her everything she wants. She'll be my one and only, like you never wanted to be!"

He felt his feet leave the floor as Marcus bodily picked him up with a heave of his hips and thighs, and with all the strength in those massive arms. Adrian was twisted around and slammed face-down onto the conference table. Using all of his weight, his former best friend pinned him down and dropped his mouth to his ear once more, snarling.

"Fuck Hess all you want, but she'll never have your heart. That's mine! You're only mine, remember?"

Struggling to push the guy off was a useless endeavor, as Marcus's training had helped him perfect the art of capture, it seemed. After nearly exhausting himself, Adrian decided to switch his strategy and instead went limp and loose. Continuing to verbally goad his opponent, he hoped that the other man would soon became so disgusted that he simply let go and walked away – just as he had five years ago.

Because that would be easier than admitting that he desperately missed his friend and would give anything in the world to have him back – not just for sex, but for the companionship. He'd been alone for so long, and although he enjoyed the peace, he'd grown too accustomed to the emptiness.

"Dumb bastard," he hissed. "We shagged. That's all it was – experimental sex."

"You lie," Marcus accused with righteous anger. "I was in your mind. You can't hide the truth from me." He bit down over Adrian's pulse with just the right amount of pressure to get his thick, sluggish blood heating and roiling. An electric shiver flushed up his spine, tingling through his whole body.

Refusing to let the responding moan escape his lips, Adrian bit down on the inside of his mouth instead, drawing blood.

Marcus refused to let up. He suckled over the spot with bruising pressure, leaving behind a mark. When he pulled his mouth up, it was so he could continue to lick and whisper dark truths against the hot flush of his skin. "I know all of your secrets, Adrian. I know what you need and want." He paused, placing a small kiss on his cheek. "I know that you dream about me, and that you wank to thoughts of us sucking each other off. I know your favourite memory is the first time my cock opened you up and filled you with come. I know you haven't shagged that bird of yours yet, or anyone else, either. I know you're still only mine. Always have been, always will be."

Strong, calloused hands pulled Adrian's belly off the table and held his upper torso suspended above it, as he pulled the jacket of his costume open and slipped under the fabric of the tee underneath. Hot hands that he remembered with an almost obsessive longing traced a familiar pattern across his abdomen and pectorals, relearning his curves. The touch was like a punch to his gut, reminding him of all he'd given up in letting this man walk out of his life.

Gods, he'd missed this – missed him!

"It's true," Marcus continued, pressing his pelvis into Adrian's arse. His erection was prominent and demanding. "You never forget your first, and there's a part of you that will always want them." With slow precision, his former lover ran his covered cock through the divide. "Am I wrong, Addy? Go on, tell me I'm wrong, and I'll let you go."

Afire with sensations that had been repressed for too long, Adrian let slip his control and did moan then. He was weakening, like the pathetic sop he was. His arms were now free, as Marcus was busy fondling him, so why didn't he make good his escape?

"You've filled out, too, I see," his seducer noted, circling his nipples with caressing fingertips, causing Adrian to tremble from the amazing pleasure such small touches brought him. "Mmmm, I like the man you've grown into. There's more definition here." He stroked up and down Adrian's abs and pecs. "Same eyes, same lips, same hands, though. Do you think they remember what it was like to touch me back?"

Quaking at the memories of his lips wrapped around Marcus's cock and the taste of his semen across his tongue – memories that he knew his best friend was purposefully using his mind magic to rouse to the surface and augment – Adrian felt overwhelmed by the flood of returning emotions and sensations. It was too much, too powerful.

But it had always been this way with Marcus, hadn't it? He could always get lost in the man's simplest affections.

And Marcus well knew that fact. He used it to tear open the black scab over Adrian's heart that had never fully healed, to allow its poison to leach into every pore in his body again until he felt saturated and diminished by it.

"I hate you," he resentfully proclaimed, his eyes burning hot with tears he hadn't shed since that day, five years before. "I hate you more than you can ever know. I regret you ever touching me." To his utter mortification, a small sob escaped his lips on those last words, and he willed the next one and the one after that back behind the cage of his ribs, even as scorching, salty water eased down his cheeks.

Marcus's forehead fell into the cradle of his shoulder and neck. "I'm so sorry, Addy," he whispered, voice laced with regret. "I'm sorry I walked out on you that day. I didn't want to go."

Then why did you? Adrian wanted to shout, but was too humiliated by how pathetic he'd sound uttering such a ridiculous thing. He was already pussified enough by crying in the dark in the arms of the man he still loved despite everything; he wouldn't turn into a whining nancy-boy now, too.

As always, Marcus knew his mind, however, and took the responsibility from him. "I knew if I stayed much longer, I wouldn't be able to ever leave your side. With a wife looming in your future, I knew it couldn't last between us. And you have to marry, don't you, same as me? We're cursed by our fathers to these fates, being only sons. So, I took the offer Higgs made. I got out while I still had the strength to. I thought that the time and distance would allow us both to move past it, so we could someday be friends again, but… it never got better for me, only worse. It's why I-"

He distracted that thought by kissing Adrian's throat over the love bite he'd given him earlier. "I saw you once, last year in Diagon Alley. You didn't see me. I hid. I touched your mind then, hoping…" He paused, nuzzling Adrian's cheek with his nose. "I read you. You've never let me go, either. You're as trapped as I am."

"Yes," Adrian whispered, horrified by his weakness. He hung his head in shame and he let the tears go.

I'm destroyed by you, Marc. Can't you see what you've done to me – what you still do to me?

It hurt to admit he'd been betrayed - not just by the man he'd loved, but by his own pride, by fickle Fate, and by Nature, herself, who had cursed him to desire a man when he stood as the last heir to his legacy. He'd been brought to heel by Voldemort, but never to his knees. It had taken falling in love with his best friend for that to happen.

"Five bloody years wasted. Well, I'm tired of fighting it. I'm giving in," Marcus stated, letting his hand slip down between Adrian's legs to cup his bollocks and gently roll them. Adrian groaned, arching into the touch. "I want you. I need you." He stroked up the length of his fully erect penis. "I'm going to have you again. This time, for keeps."

"But Hestia-" he countered.

"Forget Hess for now," Marcus dismissed the issue with a firm tone. "Tonight, you're all mine again." He shoved his hand down Adrian's trousers, gripping his solid, hard flesh with his fingers and holding on. "I'm going to suck you deep and swallow you right here, right now. Then, I'm going to take you back to your home and do you like you've never been fucked."

Adrian whimpered, the desperate, reckless need to allow this to happen between them clawing at him. At the same time, the very real fear of abandonment fought back, creeping like a cancer through his growing hope. "I have to marry and have an heir. I have to. And you'll just leave me again when the times comes."

"No," his lover resolutely denied. "I've taken care of all of it." He stroked Adrian's shaft, causing tendrils of fire to whip through his sac and up and down the length. "I'll explain later, but I promise you, it'll all work out. I've waited for tonight for a long time. I'm not going into this unplanned."

Adrian was straight-up scared. Things were finally on a solid track for him, and he was heading in the right direction. Sure, his marriage to Hestia wouldn't be based on soul mates falling in love, but it would be a comfortable companionship to ease the loneliness and bring him respectability, as her pure-blood family had remained neutral during the war. Could he risk all of that on a nebulous plan with a lover who had walked out on him?

"Trust me, Adrian," Marcus gently pleaded. "Let go and let us have this."

He didn't give much time to consider his offer, releasing his grip and withdrawing his hand to twist Adrian around. Their lips met and… oh, gods! It was better than he remembered it. It was greedy, writhing desire exploding around battling tongues and frantic pulls of lips. He was pulled away from the table, made to step backwards until his shoulders connected with the window, all the while plundered with anxious, impulsive licks and nips. His heart slammed hard against his chest as his lover dropped to his knees before him and yanked on his costume's trousers and his pants, jerking them to his knees.

Silhouetted in the dim light, he watched down the length of his body as Marcus gripped him, stroked up and down twice, and then leaned forward to taste. Wet heat engulfed only the tip, sucking hard as Adrian had always liked.

"Gods, yes!" he gasped, fingering through Marcus's thick, chestnut hair and holding tight. It had been five years. Marcus had been correct: Adrian had never taken another lover. He hadn't been able to stomach the thought. Now though… "More!" he demanded.

Sinking deep into his partner's mouth was ecstasy on tap. The silky texture of Marcus' tongue bathed his length in liquid warmth and didn't stop until Marcus had taken him down his throat with his lips wrapped tightly around the hilt. His penis twitched as he was squeezed around a swallow and then came the exquisite withdrawal and the sucking pressure – the perfect tension, as it always had been. Already, the lava boiled through his shaft, signaling his end would come soon.

Marcus sank back down over him and established a rhythm that allowed Adrian to sway his hips in time. Fisting Flint's soft hair and gently thrusting between the man's delightfully eager lips, the sensation brought back every memory of every time they'd done this. God, it felt right.

Shortening his attention to the tip, sensing Adrian was close to release, Marcus encouraged him to fuck his mouth in short, rapid surges, setting a pace guaranteed to send him reeling off the edge in moments. Between his legs, he felt the stimulating strokes over his sac, and was forced to his tiptoes by the electric currents shooting through his lower body, centering in his tight bollocks.

"I'm coming!" he gasped, finding it hard to hold onto the next breath. Throwing his head back against the glass, he shut his eyes and reached. "Oh, fuck, MARCUS!"

The explosion rocked his soul, forcing him to arch, and his cock slammed forward, sinking deep into Marcus's mouth. His seed gushed forth in blast after uncontrollable blast, splashing into the back of his lover's throat. A bit of his come dribbled between the tight lock of lips, and spilled down Marcus's chin. It was the hardest he'd orgasmed in five years.

Aftershocks rolled through his body, spurting tiny amounts of ejaculate that Marcus was meticulous to catch and clean with his tongue. He suckled upon him until it ended and he began to relax and go limp, at which point his lover regained his full height and pulled him into an embrace whose warmth he'd never forget. Salty lips covered his, a soft tongue shared his essence, and fingers glided through his hair.

"I've missed you, Addy – so much," his lover whispered, and the grip on his hair tightened, forcing Adrian's head to tilt up just that tiny bit. In the dark, he couldn't exactly see Marcus's eyes, but he knew he was looking into them. "Never again, you hear me? No separations. You're mine - only mine. Understand?"

"I love you," Adrian cried, tears falling from his eyes as the emotional wave hit and crushed him under its spell. It hurt, it cleansed, and it sanctified this second chance all in one compressed moment. "Gods, I lied to you. I never stopped loving you, Marc!"

Flint captured his lips in a kiss meant to silence and enflame, and it did its job beautifully, enthralling Adrian to him once again. Then, in a whirl of Apparition, they were standing outside the gate of Tarns, embracing as if the last five years had merely been a blink of time easily forgiven and forgotten.


EPILOGUE - Two months later

The borders of Tarns might not be as expansive as Malfoy Manor, or as the Parkinson Estate, but the Puceys had amassed a solid amount of land and wealth over the centuries through smart matches with rich women. It was that smart forethought by his ancestors that now allowed Adrian a measure of breathing space.

Against the far corner of his property, Hestia's house was in the middle of construction. It would be a grand thing when completed in another month, just in time for their wedding. It would certainly afford the witch more than enough room for the lavish parties she would throw thereafter. It was to be his wedding gift to her – compliments of Marcus' sly wheedling.

He had to give it up to his sneaky lover. Marc had been the one to prod Hess into showing up on Adrian's door so long ago and pressing him for a relationship. He remembered her from the night they'd been huddling in the dungeon at Hogwarts during the Final Battle – her and her sister – and had taken up a friendship with the witch. Slytherin to the core, it had actually been her plan to badger Adrian into marrying her for the sake of outward social propriety. She'd promised to provide him with an heir, to help raise their son, and to help bring the Pucey reputation back into social favour. In exchange, she only asked for a house of her own, a yearly, rather generous allowance until her and Adrian's eldest son reached adulthood, and her freedom to come and go as she pleased, so long as it didn't interfere with their commitments as a couple and parents. Of course, Marcus had played the role of Adrian's proxy in all of these matters without first advising him to the plan, and went ahead, gambling on all of their futures by striking the bargain.

In the end, Adrian couldn't find it in him to feel cheated or bullied by such manipulations, for he was getting what he wanted out of the deal. Besides, Marcus was saddled with the same requirements: he was marrying Flora Carrow, Hestia's twin. Unlike his lover, however, Marcus had simply given his fiancée the Flint ancestral home for her own uses, rather than build her a new one. He'd permanently moved into Tarns instead, much to Adrian's delight.

Hence, the issue of both men carrying on their individual family lineages was solved. Further, since neither woman was in love with her future husband, and both were more than happy with the arrangement presented, no one's feelings were hurt when Marc and Adrian continued their newfound relationship behind closed doors. Everyone won.

Strong, warm arms encircled him from behind, and Adrian leaned back against the familiar, solid chest of his lover. Marcus' cologne tickled his senses as the man closed the gap between them and pressed a kiss to Adrian's temple.

"Flora's pregnant. The fertility potion guarantees it'll be a boy."

Adrian bit back against the tiny sting of jealousy, and let out a relieved breath. "Finally. Two bloody months! I'm about out of patience."

His lover had decided to marry first, to get his duty out of the way, and they'd both agreed to abstain from sexual relations with each other until Flora became pregnant. That way, Marcus' sperm could be at its peak fertility for her womb, and the deed would be quickly done. So, for almost sixty whole days he and Marc had avoided touching except for kisses and hugs, knowing if they went even a bit further, they'd be shagging all over the place.

Adrian wasn't going to wait anymore.

In a quick movement, he turned about. "Up to our bed – now!" he commanded his lover. "I'm going to have you any way I want… until you swear you're only mine."

Marc's dark eyes flared with heat. Adrian had only ever topped him a small handful of times in their history together, and he knew his lover enjoyed that loss of control on occasion. Now was going to be one of those times.

Side-Along Apparating up to their bedroom, he took charge of their pleasure that afternoon, binding the man he loved to him with every touch, every taste, and every sigh. In between the pleas for more, and the lustful moans, the words he'd been waiting years to hear fall from Marcus' lips were drawn forth in a sigh of ecstasy.

"I love you, Adrian. Stones, but I love you!"

At long last, he had finally made Marcus Flint his.


Author's Notes:

This was my first time shipping this couple. I hope you enjoyed this short story! Please review and let me know!