The Heart Never Lies [Triss] MATURE

[ryan]

Marius Regulus Black was an absolute bitch. Just because he'd let the boy fuck him didn't mean that the Slytherin owned him. Just because he'd put his cock up Ry's ass didn't mean that he could just force food in his mouth. It was disgusting. It was humiliating and degrading and God help him, if he didn't love the guy so damn much he would have hexed him. Which, looking back, would have been a smart thing to do. Cause fuck, those hexes Marius had sent his way hurt.

But he'd stayed strong. He hadn't had one damn bite until the other began force feeding him like he was some shit-diapered baby. He'd just glowered at the man, biting his fingers and trying everything he could just to stop food from going down his throat. But what could a tiny, scrawny kid do against iron man Marius Black? Not a whole fucking lot, that's what.

So he'd actually had food - no idea what since he tried his best not to gag and tasting what was forced into his mouth wasn't his top priority. But still, it had been in his stomach for a while. Luckily the sensation had made him violently sick and he'd ran off just in time to make it to the bathroom. After spilling the content of a good breakfast into the toilet bowl, he went to the Common Room to get that foul taste out of his mouth.

Once again, Firewhiskey was his friend (and such a good friend, unlike that backstabbing whore of a Black), and he spent most of the afternoon getting riproaringly drunk. Until it was time for dinner. He was going to show him that he wasn't about to be bullied into eating, sat down next to him and grinned - when he wasn't eyeing Professor Blake, that was.

But apparently Marius wasn't quite as dumb as he seemed, because he'd gotten his revenge. After dinner, he'd dragged him out of the room, yelled something or other (in one ear, out the other) and then suddenly sweet-talked Blake into getting him something from the broom cupboard. Before Ryan was actually aware of the fact that he was moving, he was shoved in there with him and the lock had turned.

...That fucking bitch.

[tristramblake]

Tristram Blake thought he was going to die. Everything had been fine, the day had gone fairly smoothly - he hadn’t even had to teach any classes. A whole day of sitting in his office, undisturbed, working on his research. Of course, there was the constant fear that Abe might come and knock on his door and ask him to do something hideous, but he’d been working on a few silencing charms and he seemed to have managed to get away with pretending he wasn’t there for the past couple of times. Unfortunately, tricking one of the cleverest men ever to have taught at Hogwarts wasn’t the best of ideas, and Abe was bound to cotton on soon, but at least it was keeping him safe for the moment.

The only sour point of his otherwise brilliant day was meal times. He hated the communal meals, having to magically scour absolutely everything on his plate before he could even consider eating it, and just the sight of the other teachers, and the students - did they have any idea how unhygienic they were being. It was almost enough to make him throw up. If he could, he would have eaten his meals away from the rest of the school - not in his office, that was almost as bad as the communal eating area, but in his quarters, somewhere so much safer, out of the way, where he could clean his food without his social phobia fairing up.

But that wasn’t possible. It was a requirement that thee was a certain number of staff members at the staff table for every meal, and being new, he was right at the bottom of the pecking order. So he had to sit there, three times a day, terrified that the whole student body was staring at him. It was even worse that dinner time - he could swear he could feel the burn of someone eyes on him, but it was probably just because he’d spent the whole day researching and it was getting to him a little.

Still, as soon as it was acceptable for him to leave, he’d made his excuses and left the staff table, making to hurry back to his office. It was only when he was half way up the stairs in the Entrance Hall that he realised that in his rush to leave, he’d left his wand at the teachers table in the Great Hall. Feeling completely idiotic, he turned round and went back the way he’d come. He knew it was going to be ridicules embarrassing, all the other teachers would probably laugh at him, and his cheeks coloured just to think about it.

That was probably why he didn’t even notice a student approaching him until they’d already started talking “Hmm, what?” Tristram replied, somewhat distracted. He was already imagining the jeers of his fellow staff members, but he was being asked something, something about a staff only cupboard and a friend in need, apparently all he needed to do was get a glass of water. “Er, okay” He said. At least it was an excuse to avoid going straight back to the table. Maybe this way, by the time he got there, most of the other teachers would have gone. He walked quickly over to the cupboard and tired the handle. It wasn’t locked, but the interior was crapped and dark, and he didn’t fancy venturing any further. But he couldn’t see a sink. He took a slight step further in, to see if it was just out of view, but the longer he looked, the more convinced he was that the student had been mistaken about him being able to get a glass of water from in there.

However, the next moment all thoughts of water or students were banished from his mind, as someone knocked into him and the door was shut, leaving him and this new person alone in the cramped cupboard, in total darkness. Tristram went stock still, feeling his phobic responses kicking in. His breath got shallower - it felt like someone had reached inside him and was squeezing his lungs. He needed to find some way of getting light, right then. He reached for his wand, before remembering it was at the table. Letting out s small whimper, he made to go and open the door, but ad he reached out his hand touched something that felt a lot more like a human arm than a wooden door. “Oh!” Tristram exclaimed, recoiling “W-who’s there?”

[ryan]

Ryan had stumbled inside, knocking straight into Tristram and God, he smelled good. He smelled like paper and libraries and all the safe things in his world, making it very hard for him to restrain from nuzzling the mans neck. Staggering back, he brought both hands to his face, rubbing at it to stop some of the buzz and actually register what was going on.

When he did, he frowned. Why would Marius send him off into a broom cupboard with someone else, which he was fairly sure was Professor Blake. He knew that his friend could be a total asshole sometimes, but behind almost everything was some sort of logic. He cared about Ryan, it was obvious in the way he tried to get him to eat. But why would he shove him off into this dark, cramped space? He hadn't told him anything about his tutor, not even how he'd been rejected. But he was still fairly sure that the reason he was blinking owlishly into the dark was the man who bumped into him only seconds later.

“W-who’s there?”

God, his head was spinning. Ryan ran fingers through his hair, groaning. "Thizzisallyourfaultyouknow" He managed to choke out, needing something to lean into so this damn cupboard would stop whizzing about. Having nothing else in the room that seemed to stand still, he grabbed onto the man and hid his face in the others chest.

[tristramblake]

Tristram could barely breath. He was almost certain something had brushed against the back of his neck a moment before. It wasn’t like he was squeamish of most of the things that inhabited at Hogwarts, not in normal circumstances, when he could see them and he had his wand and he knew that whatever happened he could just surgery himself, but this was different. He was, trapped, wandless, and in the dark. By The time he’d collected enough of his wits to try and look for the door handle, he was shaking violently.

And that was when he’d collided with the other person who was in there with him. Even as he snatched his hand away from their arm, they sunk forwards, leaning on his chest and they were touching him all over. Tristram froze, panic rooting him to the spot. All his phobic responses were kicking in, and now OCD was thrown into the mix. He couldn’t even move, he felt like he was paralyzed, like if he moved than the world would come crashing down around his ears.

And the worst of it was, he knew who was holding him - Ryan Robins.

After their first disastrous tutoring session, Tristram had half hoped that he’d never have to see the boy again, but apparently Abe had been brought into it, and their weekly lessons were still going strong. Not that they were doing any good - most of the time the two of them sat in silence, and Tristram would grade Ryan’s [mostly appalling] work after he’d gone, but he still recognised that voice. A very slurred voice, but recognisable all the same.

And then it clicked. Ryan had been drinking. Oh god, Triss thought. He’d never really had any experience with drunk people, he’d avoided them as far as he could. Still, he knew it often involved vomit, and he didn’t think he’d be able to cope with that, not with the dark as well “R-Ryan?” He asked uncertainly, still trying his best not to move “Could you, erm, could you cast a light spell?” Tentatively, Tristram reached out to the wall, but he couldn’t find a light switch anywhere.

[ryan]

The man was shaking, but it was still a hell of a lot better than the spinning world around him, so Ryan stayed close to him, breathing in his scent and trying to regain at least an inch of focus or control. He had a thing for him, still, even though the man was either cruel or dismissive towards him. There had always been a part of him that liked the chase, and another part just wanted to prove the Professor wrong. He didn't have to be a whore. He could be different.

Though right now, different wasn't really on his brain. He wasn't registering much of what Tristram was doing, though he noted the man wasn't hugging him back, which to be honest rather pissed him off. He hadn't asked for this to happen either, but here they were and it was dark and it was cold and he was fucking drunk so could the guy show any concern for his student?

Their tutoring sessions had been spent mostly in silence. Ryan would do his work, Tristram would grade it. He had to admit that he childishly enjoyed how his teacher would look a little more exasperated with every graded exercise. It was a bit of revenge, since the man had made it all too obvious he didn't want to tutor him. Ryan would show him what it was like to be stuck. How it felt to be around someone you didn't want to be around, cause he got that feelings from his parents every time.

Being drunk, he really couldn't help but giggle when the man asked him to cast a light spell. His mind was set to 'horny' even before he'd been shoved against that hard body. "Why", he asked innocently, pressing himself just that tiny bit closer. "Do you want to see my wand?" From the way he said it, it was rather obvious that he didn't mean *that* part of hard wood in his pocket.

[tristramblake]

Had it been possible, Tristram would have gone even more rigid when Ryan pressed closer too him. Half of his mind was insisting it couldn’t be happening, whilst the other was trying to cope with the fact that it was. Triss could spell the alcohol on Ryan’s breath - it was one of the few things he could sense in that panic-inducing dark, that and how tightly Ryan was pressed against him. Somewhere in his brain, the part that was still a teacher, not a wreck of a man on the verge of an anxiety attack, he knew that he needed to look after Ryan, stop him from hurting himself in his drunken state.

Still, even if he acknowledged that, even in part, he couldn’t seem to make his stricken body do anything about it. His breath was getting more and more ragged by the second, and as he squeezed his eyes shut, a tear leaked out the dies o one of them and ran down his face. Sometimes that worked, with blood or nails or any of the specific phobias he’d had. Sometimes, if he’d just turned away, pretended it wasn’t there, he could almost cope, almost get his feet back on the grounds. But he couldn’t with the dark. It was everywhere, all around him, and there was no escape. If the lights didn’t turn on soon, he thought he was going to lose whatever was left of his mind.

And then through his panic-fogged mind, Tristram registered what Ryan had just said. He jolted, eyes snapping wide open, suddenly unforgivably aware of the boy who was pressed up against him. It was surprising the room didn’t light up with how red his face had suddenly become. Surely Ryan hadn’t mean what he’d just said to sound so suggestive? He couldn’t have. Triss couldn’t imagine that anyone of that age could possibly do such a thing on purpose, could they? It but be the alcohol talking, he told himself. He needed to get out of that cupboard, and Ryan did too, before something terrible happened “Ryan, p-please,” He begged, not caring how pathetic he was sounding “I need- I need you to cast a lumos charm, or turn the lights on, or- or something. Please”

[ryan]

Ryan felt the man tense up underneath him, but didn't really realize why. He heard him whisper something about light again and moaned, resting his face against the others neck and breathing warm air over his skin. Christ, the man was turning him on by staying so close, and it was not a good thing. Sure, he'd used this broom closet for this purpose before, but it hadn't been practical nor very arousing. He didn't like fucking in the dark. He wanted people to see him.

“I need- I need you to cast a lumos charm, or turn the lights on, or- or something. Please”

Or something. He giggled at that, running fingers down the others chest lightly. "I don't know about the lights, but I could turn you on..." His voice sounded husky and he reached for the mans hand, taking one digit into his mouth and sucking on it. It was a foolproof move.

[tristramblake]

Tristram practically convulsed when Ryan breathed on his neck. He didn’t think he’d be able to cope much longer - his eyes were hearing up again, and he felt another couple pearl up then roll down his cheek, and onto his neck. He couldn’t wipe them away, he couldn’t move at all, not with Ryan still attached to him. It was almost as if, if he didn’t move, then it wasn’t happening, and he could ignore the terrifying way his flesh was reaction to Ryan’s touch. He wished like hell he had his wand, so that he could save himself, save himself from that situation, from the dark, and from Ryan.

And Ryan was moaning. That couldn’t be good, could it? Triss wondered vaguely whether it was something all drunk people did, whether it meant that Ryan was going to be sick or something. He wouldn’t be able to deal with hat, not in the dark, in that confined space, with no wand. He was sure there must be some kind of sobering charm, if only he could get Ryan to cooperate, then maybe he could get the two of them out of there.

But apparently Ryan had other plans. Tristram was profoundly disturbed by hearing the boy giggle - that wasn’t a sound he would ever have expected his student to make - but not nearly as much as by the way he had started running his fingers down Triss’ chest. He could feel the goose-bumps rising on his skin, and he was all but hyperventilating. But Ryan’s fingers rose and fell in time with his chest, tracing out his torso through the altogether too thin fabric of his shirt. His stomach was churning and his heart felt like it was smashing against his ribcage. He had to get out, he had to-

Then Ryan said something that made him feel like his whole body had turned to ice. It wasn’t just careless phrasing, then, Ryan really was trying to flirt with him, and more, by the sound of it. This couldn’t be right, he was a teacher, and a good 7 years Ry’s senior, at least. This couldn’t be happening, he was entirely unable to comprehend it, his mind feeling like it was collapsing in on itself as he tried to regain control of his shocked body.

Before he could even begin to take control, though, Ryan’s hands were moving elsewhere, sliding down his arm that was still reached out to the side where it had be groping blindly for a light switch. Horror rose up in Tristram’s throat. “Ryan-!” He squeaked. What the hell was going to happen? What was Ryan going to do? after a declaration like that, he didn’t think it could possibly be anything good.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer, as the next moment, Ryan had slipped Triss’s index finger into his mouth. That was it. The wet heat of Ryan’s mouth as he sucked on his finger was enough to Snap Tristram into action. He pulled his hand back, the coolness of the air meeting his spit-slicked finger making him convulse again, and it was only his sheer determination that stopped him from breaking down and having a panic attack right there. His arms shot out, holding Ryan at arms length. He was torn -he wanted the boy to get the hell away from him, but he was a teacher, and this was his student, and he had to look after him.

It was only when he’d heaved the drunken boy away from his chest that he realised what an effect he’d had on other parts of his body. Tristram didn’t get aroused, he probably hadn’t had a sexy thought in his life, but after being locked in a dark broom cupboard with one of his students for just five minutes, he had the beginnings of an erection happening inside his boxers. Tristram was speechless. He’d be about to say something, tell Ryan off or beg him again to turn the lights on, but all he could do was open and close his mouth uselessly. He just thanked Merlin it was dark, so Ryan would not be able to see it.

[ryan]

Ryan had been very content with the closeness, happy that this time, Tristram didn't seem to want to move away. Not that he had much room to, but still, it was a whole other world compared to the way he had run off the first time. It still annoyed him, saddened him even, and were he sober, he would have immediately complied to the mans wishes and get the both of them the hell out of there. He would have seen it as another rejection and dread the tutoring sessions even more, but at least he wouldn't have made such a fool out of himself.

Or a whore. Because he was being a whore, and he knew it. But what else was there to do? It was the only thing he was good at, if the moans and pleading were any indication. He had a reputation to give out a good shag to whoever needed it, and most of the time he didn't mind. Sometimes though, when he was alone in bed at night he just wanted someone to hold him. Someone to wrap arms around him and not just try to earn brownie points that way.

It was exactly that he had been looking for when he first threw himself into the mans arms. Just someone to hold him. Someone to be with him for a while, in the dark when he couldn't see the way it affected Ryan. He didn't let anyone into his bed, out of fear that he wouldn't be able to sleep once he was used to there being a warm presence next to him. So was he really to blame for wanting a hug? Wanting someone to hold him without making more out of it?

But Tristram hadn't responded and of course that had made him revert to his old ways. Ryan knew about shock value. A lot of guys, both in and out of Hogwarts, were surprised by his blatant come ons, giving him those few moments of control, of making them do whatever he wanted. But for some stupid reason, Tristram Blake didn't seem to let him do what he was good for. So he tried harder. He tried harder and harder to make himself into a whore because then maybe he could finally give up on the thought of ever being something more. If even the teachers shagged him, they wouldn't affect him when they were telling him about a future he couldn't have.

Yes, he was drunk, and no, not everything was as clear as it should have been, but he knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing. Getting drunk to the point where he lost control was one of the scariest things in the world for him, but at least this way, if Tristram rejected him, he could play it up to alcohol. It would be because of something he did, not because of who he was.

There was a difference there. When people got close, they would inevitably be presented with this. He'd try to make them leave. He'd test out their boundaries, pushing the limits over and over and further and further just because he wanted to see who would be left standing in the end. If he was cold and cruel and hurtful on purpose, then people wouldn't leave because of who he was, but because he'd behaved like an asshole. He had to push them away before they left him.

Tristram...Ryan sometimes wasn't quite sure where he fit in the equation. He was attracted to him, obviously, but it wasn't like they seemed to have a whole lot in common. Maybe it was because in some weird way, Professor Blake made him feel safe. He was quiet, never seeming to want to interact with his student in any way, and Ry liked that. He really did, it was just that he could never seem to help himself. He needed to find out, once and for all, if this was someone he could trust, or just another person waiting for his chance.

So honestly, Ryan wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Tristram to push him away or pull him close. He didn't know if he wanted to be kissed or yelled at, carressed or thrown aside. He just knew that he had to push this. Had to know. When the man pushed him away, he felt relieved, but the other was still around, still close enough for him to make another move. And he did.

"Don't", He whispered softly, his voice showing a lot more emotion than he would have liked it to. He wasn't sure what he was don't-ing exactly, though he went straight back to the others arms like a magnet. When he got there, he felt something hard (or getting there) poking against his hip. His laugh was soft and seductive, his hand once again trailing a finger over Tristrams chest, before it slipped lower, over the bulge in his pants.

[tristramblake]

With Ryan held at arms length, Tristram’s phobic responses started kicking in harder than ever. It was as if the darkness had flooded into the gap where the boy had been a moment before and was now swarming all over him, pulling him down, consuming him, like a thousand ravenous cockroaches. He coached, and had to take one hand away from Ryan’s shoulder to claw at his throat. His airways were closing, it wouldn’t be long before the panic attack set on, and he started fitting.

Tristram’s brow furrowed when Ryan let out that one, broken word. Don’t what? Maybe he really was ill, or he’d had some kind of spell put on him. That would explain the entirely unorthodox behaviour, why Ryan was acting so differently to the quiet student Triss had come to know him as, why was being so- so inappropriate. “R-Ryan, are- are you okay?” He asked, his voice thick with fear and- something else “Has someone put a spell on you?”

But the next second Ryan surged back against him. Having taken one hand away, he couldn’t stop the boy, and, oh god- in his sudden attack of terror, Tristram had momentarily forgotten the state of the contents of his trousers, but now Ryan was pressed hard against him again, he was all too aware of it. And apparently so was Ryan. His hand snaked over Triss’ body to press at the ever growing bulge in his trousers.

Tristram gasped loudly. He’d never felt another’s hands on him before, not like that, and the feeling was- he didn’t know what it was. In any other circumstance he would have labelled it as terror, his breath catching, his heart speeding up, but there was a strange jolt of something the like of which he’d never felt before, and it shocked him more profoundly than any of the other events of the part few minutes.