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August 3, 2006
“If you do me, I’ll do you.”

“Huh?” Neville squeaks as his eyes widen at the husky words. He feels a rush of heat in his face as he looks up quickly. Bill is leaning against the doorway that leads into his room. His smile is friendly and harmless, which Neville is ashamed to admit is disappointing.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m sore after this afternoon. I could really use a massage,” Bill says as he holds up a bottle of blue colored oil. Neville can make out the letters ‘Sag L’, though the rest of the two words are covered by Bill’s long fingers. “It’s just my back and shoulders from all that lifting.”

At Bill’s explanation, Neville’s own body throbs in understanding, though he needs to scold his cock for twitching because it certainly hadn’t been given a workout when they’d excavated the tomb today. In fact, it’s been months since it’s been of any use save for wanking and trying to embarrass him by hardening every time he’s around Bill.

Considering that they share a flat in Cairo, are both working on the same team currently excavating a several centuries old wizarding tomb, and have become really good friends over the last few months, Neville’s gotten better at avoiding embarrassing circumstances. He reminds himself that Bill is divorced and likes pretty blonde witches with big tits, not chubby wizards with clumsy hands.

Besides, even if Bill did like blokes, Neville’s not close to being his type. He’d probably want someone like Malfoy, all feminine and pretty and girly who would never get his hands dirty or enjoy physical labor. Normally, Neville is comfortable with himself. He’s not very confident but he’s secure in who he is and what he has to offer. Most of his insecurities faded during the war when it was lucky to live to see a new day and things like baby fat and stuttering didn’t seem so important.

Bill has this way of making him feel like a clueless first year again, though, and Neville feels a lot like he did when he had the crush on Hermione until year five when he realized he preferred blokes. Then it had been Zabini who made his palms sweat and his cheeks flush, not that he ever admitted that particular infatuation to anyone. During the war, Terry Boot had become his first lover and there had been one or two since, but no one who really caught his fancy.

However, this thing with Bill isn’t the same as all those. Bill is unattainable, which seems to be typical for Neville, but he’s also a friend and co-worker. They share a flat and Neville watches Bill go out with a variety of blonde slags, mostly vacationing American Muggles that he picks up in local pubs. He never brings them back to the flat, but Neville can imagine what he does with them all.

The sound of a throat clearing distracts Neville from his mental hexing of every blonde woman in the world. He blinks and focuses on Bill, who is holding the bottle of oil out towards him. Bill arches a brow and tosses his long red hair over his shoulder. “You in?”

“Uh, sure,” Neville says, wondering if he sounds as stupid as he thinks he does. Bill grins and stalks into the room. Bill doesn’t walk. No, that would be too easy. Instead, he stalks, moving his tall, lean body with grace and a hint of power that always makes Neville’s tummy do odd things.

“Good,” he says as he hands the bottle of oil to Neville. He glances at the floor and throws some pillows down before he nods. “We’ll do it here.”

Any possibility of replying is forgotten as Bill grips the bottom of his T-shirt and pulls it over his head. Neville stares at the tan skin covered with freckles, his gaze traveling down Bill’s chest and following the path of ginger hair until it disappears into the denim that is riding low on Bill’s hips. He sees a tattoo, some Egyptian symbol that he recognizes from somewhere, on Bill’s right hip that is half covered by his jeans and has to hope that he’s not drooling.

Bill hooks his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, which makes the denim ride lower. Neville whimpers when he sees a flash of hair and realizes that Bill isn’t wearing pants. His mouth is dry, his palms are wet, and he’s forgotten how to speak.

“You feeling okay, Neville? You look flushed,” Bill tells him. “Maybe you got too hot today.”

“Yeah, too hot,” Neville echoes as he glances up and sees that Bill’s lips are curved into a slight smile. He tightens his grip on the bottle of massage oil and tries to focus. “So, uh, if you want to lie down, I’ll get started.”

“Mmm…sounds good,” Bill says with a wink before he lies on the pillows, resting his cheek on his hands.

The wink was just friendly, Neville reminds himself as he stands and discreetly adjusts his jeans. It won’t do to get caught with a raging erection while he gives this massage to his friend, his straight very much heterosexual friend. He kneels by Bill and lets his gaze move over the scars that cover his cheek and jaw, resisting the urge to touch them. Instead of detracting from Bill’s looks, they make him more rugged and distinguished.

Neville pours some of the oil into his hand and warms it before he hesitantly touches Bill’s shoulder. His skin is warm and he sighs when Neville’s fingers dig into his skin. “You can do it harder,” Bill murmurs as he shifts on the pillows. He lazily opens his eyes and looks back at Neville. “Why are you sitting at the side? You won’t get enough pressure like that. Just straddle me and get to it. Do it hard and deep.”

Oh fuck. Neville nearly comes in his pants at Bill’s words, which have nothing to do with the vivid images currently flashing through his mind regarding things he could do hard and deep that didn’t involve massage at all. Neville’s hands shake as arousal consumes him. Fortunately, Bill’s eyes are closed again so he can’t see Neville fighting temptation, again.

“All right,” he mutters as he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he’s a Gryffindor and faced far more dangerous things during the war. He reaches down and adjusts his trousers again, biting his lip to keep from groaning at the pressure against his erection. He finally straddles Bill, carefully keeping himself above him, and goes back to the massage.

He’s actually pretty good at giving massages. Hermione claims he has magic hands and often begs for a massage whenever they get together when he’s in London, much to her very muscular and very scary boyfriend’s chagrin. Charlie doesn’t mind, of course, as there’s no doubt as to the very platonic friendship between Neville and Hermione, but he still feels a bit scared of anyone who is that huge, stocky, and works with dragons.

“God, that feels great,” Bill says as he arches his back into Neville’s kneading hands. He moans, a sound that causes Neville to freeze as his cock throbs, and growls softly when Neville goes back to massaging.

Growls and moans are not good. Not good at all. Neville is breathing heavy and he can feel his shirt sticking to his damp skin as he sweats from the heat of arousal and fear of discovery. He rubs Bill’s shoulders, getting more oil when his hands become dry, and works his fingers deep into the sore muscles. When he finishes, he’s about to get up and run to his room but Bill stops him.

“Lower,” he demands in a husky voice as he shifts beneath Neville.

Neville bites his lip and scoots down, straddling Bill’s arse as he goes back to work. It doesn’t take any time before Bill arches up again into his hands, an action that makes his arse rub directly against Neville’s hard cock. His face flushes and he stops breathing as Bill rubs his cock with his arse.

“More,” Bill urges in a desperate voice. “Damn it, Neville. Stop teasing and do it. You know you want to.”

“Want to what?” he stammers, not sure if he and Bill are on the same page.

Bill growls lowly and suddenly moves. Neville gasps as he finds himself lying back on the pillows with Bill above him. Red hair falls around Bill’s face like a curtain as he lowers his head and kisses Neville hard. As he kisses him, Bill pushes up his shirt and strokes his ribs before his thumb brushes against his nipples.

There’s no chance to protest or ask what’s happening, not that Neville has any intention of doing so. Bill is just there, all around him, and they’re grinding against each other as they kiss. Any doubts Neville has fade when he feels Bill’s erection rubbing against his own. The jeans are in the way but that’s not so important right now.

There’s friction, amazing friction, and the kiss is intense in a toe curling, lip biting sort of way. He runs his hands down Bill’s back and grips his arse as he pushes back, letting him know he’s not some submissive git who just lies there. Bill seems to approve because he moans against Neville’s mouth before he grips Neville’s leg and hooks it over his hip so they can get more contact.

The knowledge that it’s Bill kissing him, Bill rubbing against him, Bill touching him is just too much. Neville comes far too soon, whining into their kiss as he spills into his pants and shudders beneath Bill. Teeth nip at his lip before Bill thrusts against him hard, grinding even more until he gasps and comes with a grunt. His hips jerk forward and send him against Neville before he finally collapses on top of him.

Neville lays beneath Bill, not at all sure what to say or how to react. Was it a one time thing? Bill sure hasn’t given any indication that he’s into blokes or wanted this. At least, Neville hasn’t noticed anything. Of course, with his focus on making sure Bill didn’t find out, he may have missed something, he realizes. Bill raises his head and smiles lazily, looking sexy and sated.

“It’s about fucking time,” he murmurs before he kisses Neville again, still intense but not as rough. When he pulls back, he licks his lips and pushes Neville’s shirt up and over his head. He grins as he runs his hands down Neville’s chest, not seeming to mind the extra padding or pale skin. Neville smiles shyly in return and groans when he speaks, obeying without hesitation. “Roll over, Neville. It’s time for me to do you.”