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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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pt. iv: never let 'em see you sweat

pt. i: break a sweat || pt. ii: blood, sweat and tears || pt. iii: sweat it out

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (m receiving), shower sex, dirty talk

Summary: part iv: after the events of the Quidditch Cup final, you and Sebastian sneak away to do what you always do – but this time you don't get as far as the castle...

"Hang on… Did someone leave the shower on?” one of the boys asks, and you feel panic bubble up inside your stomach. Always quick on his feet, Sebastian calls out, “Larson, I’m just finishing up in here.” “Sallow!” Andrew calls out delightedly. “What in Merlin’s name are you still doing here? You ought to hurry up, I imagine your housemates are waiting on you to start the party.” “Won’t be long,” he insists – far too casually for someone who’s got his fingers inside you, you think. “Give me some privacy, will you? I’ve just been flying for an hour, I smell foul.”

By the time spring rolls around, few at Hogwarts are surprised that the Slytherin Quidditch team has rather easily carved a path to the Quidditch Cup final. Sebastian has played brilliantly all year, almost always securing the Snitch well before the opposing team can rack up anywhere near enough points to give the Slytherins a true challenge. Even when he doesn’t, Imelda’s intense training regimen has the Chasers in tip-top shape to earn enough points to secure a win regardless.

What is a surprise is that the Gryffindor team managed to claim the other spot, meaning that the possibility of a rematch between Sallow and Prewett was undoubtedly the hottest topic of conversation leading up to the final.

To others, Sebastian is convincingly calm about the matter. You, of course, can tell that he’s quite nervous – he’s having trouble sleeping at night, and his usually robust appetite has dwindled to practically nothing.

“Please eat some breakfast, Sebastian,” you ask him the morning of the match. “At least some toast.”

“I’m not hungry,” he insists sullenly.

You glance where his gaze is pointed and see that Leander Prewett is haughtily holding court at the Gryffindor table across the hall, already dressed head to toe in his uniform. Undoubtedly he’s bragging about how he’d almost one-upped Sebastian the last time the two of them had come to blows – probably leaving out that he surely would’ve wound up with Nurse Blainey overnight if he hadn’t apologized to you.

“Bash,” you croon, luring his attention away. “Don’t pay attention to him.”

“He’s a twat,” Sebastian grumbles.

“He is,” you agree. “And today you’re going to thoroughly trounce him and the rest of the Gryffindor team without coming to blows. Promise?”

“Sure,” he says unconvincingly.

“I heard Clopton was taking bets on whether you’d get into another fight,” Anne interjects with a grin. “He’s got fair odds on Prewett, but better ones if you duke it out with anyone else on their team.”

“Come now, Anne,” Ominis scoffs. “You know well and good that the best odds are on whether or not they use their wands this time.”

“You two are not helping,” you hiss.

By the time Sebastian leaves you to go warm up with the rest of the team, you’re a ball of nerves yourself. It only worsens when Hogwarts’ student body gets up en masse and makes its way down to the pitch. Anne and Ominis join you in the stands in the best seats you can wrangle, but even being the Seeker’s girlfriend doesn’t mean you can secure the prime seats down the front – those had quickly been snapped up by the most fervent of Slytherin supporters.

(Mostly excitable underclassmen who had arrived hours ago, but also some more senior girls who you are quite certain are only there to watch Sebastian.)

Once Kogawa starts the match, Sebastian and Leander both take off for opposite ends of the pitch. You have no way of knowing which one of them has spotted the Snitch already, but you think it’s likelier they’re both merely avoiding each other.

Sure enough, an hour flies by with little action from either Seeker. Thus far the Slytherin team has done a respectable job by putting their team into the triple digits, but Gryffindor’s Beaters are particularly vicious and manage to knock a Bludger into Priscilla Wakefield that sends her tumbling into the grass. All of a sudden your team is down a Chaser.

“Bollocks,” Anne grumbles.

“It’s going to come down to the Snitch now,” Ominis says ruefully. “There’s no way Slytherin wins without it.”

“Come on, Bash,” you whisper, watching him weave between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections in an easy loop, eyes fixed on the pitch.

Suddenly he swoops low toward the pitch and just barely skims the grass before he’s arcing high up into the air. The crowd around you gasps – surely he’s spotted the Snitch if he’s flying around like that, they must think.

But instead of heading back toward the ground or circling the pitch in pursuit of the glittering golden ball, you realize that he’s on a path to collide with the Slytherin students section. Then before your very eyes, Sebastian pivots at the last second, vaults himself off his broom and tumbles right over the railing and into the stands, leaving his Yew Weaver floating in midair fifty feet above the ground.

The crowd around you erupts into noise – shouts, scoffs and astonished yelps break through as he starts to muscle his way through the spectators and climb the stands toward you.

“Bash!” you yell, bewildered. “What in Merlin’s name do you think–”

He cuts you off with a bruising kiss when he reaches you, wrapping one arm around your waist to haul you against his chest. Someone near you catcalls, setting off a wave of delighted laughs, and you vaguely hear Violet McDowell make a very displeased sound.

“Sebastian!” Anne exclaims. “Have you actually lost your mind?!”

“You can snog any time, you oaf,” Ominis hisses. “You’re in the middle of a match!”

“Not anymore I’m not,” he breathes against your mouth.

Without breaking away from you, Sebastian lifts his right fist into the air and reveals the thrumming Snitch he’d evidently scooped up right off the ground, its wings unfolding and fluttering proudly. The Slytherin section becomes impossibly louder as students begin to cheer and chant, “Sal-low! Sal-low! Sal-low!”

The announcer calls the match and far below you, Imelda hoists the Quidditch Cup into the air while the rest of the Slytherin team haphazardly lands on the ground and tackles her into one big group hug. Sebastian remains in the stands with you, one arm wrapped around you protectively while your fellow students bombard him with congratulations.

Slowly the student section empties onto the grass in a sea of green, with students splitting off in waves to return to the castle. You know the real party will be taking place in your common room, but the energy on the pitch is simply electrifying.

Sebastian gets a turn hoisting the cup high above his head and he even lets you have a go at lifting it, as well as both Anne and a bemused Ominis, who finds the whole thing just a touch too rambunctious for his tastes. Fortunately, as it was the last game of the season, Imelda doesn’t round up the team to go into the changing room to discuss their performance, which means most of the other players take off rather quickly.

At one point, you catch Sebastian looking at you with heat in his eyes, and a similar heat starts to pool low in your stomach.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask him teasingly. “Care to share with the class?”

“Not here,” he murmurs, glancing around at the crowd. “Come on.”

He takes your hand and starts to weave out of the crowd with you, making your way toward the tunnels where the empty changing rooms are located. The drop in volume is stunning once you duck inside the canvas tunnel, and by the time Sebastian pulls you into one of the changing rooms, it’s practically silent.

“Wow,” you whisper.

“It’s charmed so we can’t hear the crowds when we’re meeting in here,” Sebastian explains. “Bit intimidating otherwise.”

“Of course,” you breathe, but before you can say another word he’s pulling you against his chest once more and kissing you senseless, his gloved hands skimming across your body.

“B-Bash,” you stammer. “Let’s go, we – we can hurry back, c’mon.”

“I’m not going to make it upstairs,” Sebastian insists. “Love, I need you. Right now.”

“I do too, but what are you suggesting, we simply do it here?” you ask insistently. “We’re in public, Sebastian.”

“No one is here,” he explains. “The entire team went straight back to the common room to celebrate, we’re all alone.”

…He does have a point.

“All alone?” you murmur hesitantly. “You’re positive?”

Sebastian grins at you like he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “I’m quite sure.”

It’s honestly embarrassing how easy it is for Sebastian to talk you out of your robes. You’re stripped down to your chemise before you can even get him to take off his sporting cloak. Once you’re standing completely bare in the middle of the changing room and Sebastian is tugging off his dirt-stained trousers, you peer around the empty space. Save for the lockers, benches and a chalkboard covered in Imelda’s strategic illustrations, it’s largely empty.

“How are we going to do this?” you ask him skeptically. “Conjure a bed?”

“I have a better idea,” he says with a cheeky grin.

He takes your hand and starts to walk you to the back of the room. Around a corner you find a square, tiled room with six taps sticking out of the walls, looking much like ones lining the bathtub in the luxurious prefects’ bathroom.

“Are these showers?” you ask, surprised. “Wait. You’ve had a shower here this entire time?”

“I’ve never really used them much,” he says with a shrug. “Since the teams went co-ed, it doesn’t seem fair to make the girls walk all the way up to the castle to have a bath, so we let them use it.”

“How chivalrous,” you snort.

Sebastian turns on the taps and the room starts to fill up with steam from the warm water. You find yourself shivering standing there nude, so he gently walks you underneath the running water and smiles brilliantly while you gasp and giggle at the feeling of being soaked with water in such a large open room.

“Good idea?” he asks teasingly.

“Great idea,” you tell him as you tug him toward you for a lazy kiss.

You can feel that he’s already half hard at your hip, and thanks to the water it’s all too easy to reach down and slowly stroke him until he’s moaning into your mouth and bucking against your hand.

“Let me touch you,” he whimpers. “Merlin, I need to feel you.”

He walks you back against the cold tile wall and coaxes you into lifting a leg up onto his arm, knee hooked over his elbow so he can part your thighs and grind the head of his cock against your slit. He doesn’t dip inside, not yet, but that little bit of contact makes you both moan, the sound echoing off the tile.

He’s just worked two fingers inside you and is murmuring mindlessly about how good you feel when you hear the door to the changing room slam open. You both freeze.

“Why would it be in here?” a voice you don’t recognize asks.

“I don’t know,” another voice laughs, but you realize this voice belongs to Andrew Larson, one of the Ravenclaw boys in your year who shares Astronomy class with you and serves as captain for his house’s Quidditch team. “But I’ve looked everywhere else, so maybe I left it here after the game last week.”

“Just look quickly, alright? We’re missing the Slytherin’s party for this,” the stranger grumbles.

You’re trembling, one of your legs still lifted while Sebastian winks at you and curls his fingers inside you without saying a word. You squeak and slam your eyes shut – he’s evil for that, you think.

“Hang on… Did someone leave the shower on?” one of the boys asks, and you feel panic bubble up inside your stomach.

Always quick on his feet, Sebastian calls out, “Larson, I’m just finishing up in here.”

“Sallow!” Andrew calls out delightedly. “What in Merlin’s name are you still doing here? You ought to hurry up, I imagine your housemates are waiting on you to start the party.”

“Won’t be long,” he insists – far too casually for someone who’s got his fingers inside you, you think. “Give me some privacy, will you? I’ve just been flying for an hour, I smell foul.”

Andrew and his companion both laugh understandingly.

“Fair enough,” he relents. “I’m just looking for a library book I’ve lost, if I don’t find it Scribner will have my head.”

“Good luck, mate,” Sebastian offers cheerfully.

Then he pulls his fingers out of you and lets you lower your leg so he can turn you around. Facing the wall of the shower, Sebastian nudges your thighs apart with his leg and lines himself up with your entrance. Aided by the water he easily sinks inside you and presses you against the wall. You gasp sharply, both at the intrusion and at the feeling of the cold tile against your hardened nipples.

“Shh,” Sebastian whispers against the back of your neck. “You must be quiet, love, or I’ll have to stop. D’you want me to stop?”

“No!” you whimper. “Please don’t stop.”

Your fingers claw at the wet tiles trying to grab onto something, anything to help ground yourself as Sebastian grinds deeper inside you. You feel exposed in a way you’ve never felt before, with no blanket to hide under or door to slam shut behind you. You’re bare in the middle of an open shower, and should either boy in the other room round the corner to the showers for any reason, you would have no way to hide what Sebastian is doing to you – what you’re doing together.

You had no idea that the threat of being caught like this, doing something so improper in such a public way, would be so erotic.

“Good girl,” Sebastian murmurs. “Be nice and quiet and they’ll never know you were here.”

You can hear Andrew and his friend chatting aimlessly about Ancient Runes while Sebastian fucks you, taking care to stick to slow, deep thrusts so the sound of wet skin on skin doesn’t alert the nearby boys to what’s truly going on.

Even without the quicker pace you both usually prefer, the slow, thorough fucking you’re receiving is enough to drive you mad. You feel claimed like this, like you were merely there in the stands that afternoon to offer Sebastian a wanton reward for his victory – a prize he can bury his cock in.

You can’t help the desperate keens that slip out every time he hits that sinful spot inside you that makes your legs tremble. Sebastian can tell you’re barely holding on, so he waits until he’s fairly positive he heard the changing room door shut behind Andrew and his friend before he starts to properly lay into you, hips smacking loudly against your ass.

“Touch me!” you plead in a desperate whisper. “Bash, I’m so close, please.”

He laces one hand with yours against the wall for leverage and slides his other around the front of you to find your clit. Three fingertips pressed right against that sensitive spot is all you need to see stars, and Sebastian chokes on your name when you reach your climax and go fiercely tight around him.

You’re still a panting, writhing mess after you come back to yourself, making Sebastian groan in frustration while you squirm from sensitivity on his cock.

“Love, if you can’t find a way to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet, I can certainly think of one,” Sebastian hisses.

“Please,” you whimper, expecting him to place a hand across your mouth and tip your head back so he can continue whispering pure filth in your ear.

But instead, he pulls out of you and grabs you by the hips to turn you around.

“On your knees,” he says softly. “Finish me off with that gorgeous mouth.”

Merlin’s beard.

You quickly drop to your knees on the wet tile and place your hands against Sebastian’s thighs. He’s so solid and warm here, even with the water still pouring over you both.

He holds his cock steady for you with one hand and with the other he tips your chin up so he can meet your gaze and whisper, “Tell me if it’s too much and we’ll stop, alright?”

Eagerly you nod and let your mouth fall open for him. He curses softly while he guides the tip of his cock inside your mouth, letting you briefly suck on the sensitive head before he starts to press in deeper. Your eyes drift shut while you take him and you concentrate on relaxing your throat so he can properly claim your mouth how he likes, until your nose brushes against the lowest part of his pelvis.

“Merlin, you’re so good at this,” he breathes. “Go on, love, show me how much you love to taste me.”

He’s a rotten scoundrel for saying it out loud, but you do love this. Sebastian tells you that most times he would prefer to be inside your body rather than your mouth if given the choice – he insists it’s too decadent, too self-serving. But that’s precisely why you enjoy it, you tell him; you get to simply pleasure him, and it feels entirely apt that you should do so after such a heroic win for your house.

On top of that, you’re quite taken with his cock.

The warm water of the shower has washed away all the sweat, dirt and grass that had clung to him even after he’d stripped off his uniform. Now he just tastes of slightly-salty skin and the bittersweet taste of the precum he’s leaking onto your tongue, and you're addicted to the way your lips have to stretch around him to accommodate his size.

You moan around the length of him in your mouth and his hips twitch eagerly.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Keep going.”

You slide your hands up the length of his thighs to his hips and pull him closer, coaxing him into rocking his hips toward your face. The whine you make around him is pitiful and needy.

“You want me to use this mouth, darling?” he asks you knowingly. “I’ve got to do everything myself, have I?”

You have to ask yourself, why is it that he’s maddeningly irresistible when he’s being an utter prick?

Sebastian laughs softly to himself, well aware that if you weren’t in the middle of sucking his cock you’d be rolling your eyes at him. He gently cups your face b your jaw and drags his thumbs along your cheeks. He’s done this with you before, but he’s always insistent on being exceptionally careful with you, reverently mindful of your trust in him.

Then he starts to carefully fuck your mouth, holding you still while he rocks his hips in and out. He takes his time to let you breathe between lazy thrusts and murmurs soft words of encouragement every time you swallow around him.

“Such a lovely mouth,” he sighs. “You’re going to swallow every drop I give you, aren’t you love?”

Yes, you wish you could say. Yes, Bash, all of it.

His pace quickens when he’s getting close, shifting away from those deep grinds that invade the back of your throat to more shallow thrusts that have him dragging the most sensitive part of him across your tongue over and over again. Your eyes are still shut but you can easily picture what he looks like: flushed red down to his chest, drops of water clinging to his shoulders, his wet curls hastily brushed off his forehead so he can see you on your knees for him.

“Open,” he gasps, and when he hastily pulls out, you open your mouth for him with just a tease of your tongue sticking out. Placing one hand on the wall behind you to support himself, his other wraps around his cock and swiftly strokes himself until he’s spilling onto your tongue, your bottom lip, even your chin.

You’re a mess: flushed, dazed and covered in Sebastian’s spend.

“Fuck’s sake,” he gasps. “Quite cheeky of you to look that good the second I finish.”

You smirk up at him and drag your tongue across your bottom lip, collecting some of his mess and sucking it off before swallowing what you’d caught in your mouth. His softening cock twitches weakly and he groans like he knows it would hurt, but he’d happily stuff himself back inside your mouth for as long as you’d let him right this very minute.

“Do you think we should properly shower now?” you ask softly. “So we can go to the party?”

“Forget the party,” Sebastian counters. “How about you and I go up to the Room and have our own little celebration?”

“You’re such a rake, Sebastian,” you sigh, accepting the hand he offers to stand up off the tile floor. “You just had me and you’re willing to put off celebrating with all your friends, your sister, and all the Butterbeer you can drink just to have me again?”

“...Yes?” he answers, as if confused why you’re even asking.

You just scoff and shove him under the running water, giggling delightedly when he sputters and whines at how the water plasters his hair to his forehead. You sweetly brush it back for him and give him a kiss to soothe his pride, letting him taste what remains of himself on your tongue.

When you do finally get redressed and join the party, Ominis makes a face like he knows exactly what the two of you were up to.

“You know,” he murmurs as you claim a spot on the wall next to him. “I heard Andrew Larson telling some of the other Ravenclaws that he heard Sebastian Sallow in the showers after the match – and that he thought he wasn’t in there alone.”

“W-what?” you stutter.

“I don’t suppose he had any company?” he asks casually. “I noticed you too were quite late to the party.”

“No,” you lie. “N-no, I just – went to the Room of Requirement afterward to drop something off.”

Then he deadpans, “Your hair is still wet.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that!” you protest.

“I do now,” he smirks, and you curse under your breath.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #my fic #hogwarts legacy smut #alright let's pretend i did a good job with the historical accuracy of showers ksdjkdhfkgjhsdfkg #no one CAAAAAARES tho right? it's smut

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