Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for the prompt "Quiet or Dad will hear." Thank you so much, Iwao, for reading through this for me—and on such short notice, too! What would I do without you? :')

"Shh," Al hissed, before pressing his tongue a bit more forcefully against that spot—right there, just below the head, where it drove Scorpius mad and set off sparks behind his eyelids, and Al knew it, the cheeky bastard.

Scorpius wasn't sure what he'd done to earn himself a blow job in a house full of people—Al's family, no less—but he wasn't exactly complaining. In fact, he'd have to remember to ask Al about it later, for future reference.

Somehow, it had involved a great deal of emotional blackmail from Al's little wench of a sister ("He keeps going on about you, I tell you. I think he misses you."), and then from Al himself ("You did promise you'd visit, and if you think I'm not holding you to that …"), and then Scorpius' father had physically ejected him from the Manor's library ("Oh, for— I did notraise a Ravenclaw. Go out! Go do … whatever it is the youth are doing, these days.").

Personally, Scorpius thought his father just wanted to have the Manor to himself. Merlin only knew what he got up to when Scorpius was away at Hogwarts; all sorts of obscene orgies, if the Prophet was to be believed—though how reliable that rag could be was anyone's guess.

But either way—and this was were things started to get muddy—after all that, there had been some sort of impromptu party at the Potters', with Al's increasingly ridiculous dance moves, and shots of Firewhisky, and James and Lily ruining some Muggle song in tandem. That last bit had been hilarious to watch, but rather painful on the ears.

And then Mr Potter had come back from work.

Scorpius sort of expected him to tell them all they'd had enough excitement for one day, and send them off to sleep—he was wrong. Instead, Mr Potter had greeted everyone with a weary smile, asked them not to make too much of a racket, and headed straight to bed.

And then night came, and muddy soon escalated into wildly out of control.

It was about that time when Scorpius found himself dragged out of the room and pressed into a wall, well on the way to forgetting how to breathe, with Al's mouth hot and wet around his prick. He was trying his hardest to keep the embarrassingly loud moaning down to a quiet sort of whimpering, really. Only, he seemed to be failing miserably.

"Fuck, just—" Scorpius' breath hitched when Al pulled back to grin knowingly up at him—obviously aware of his part in turning Scorpius into this … this thing that couldn't string more than two words together at a time. "Al, please …"

"You know—" Al licked a playful stripe up the underside of Scorpius' cock, "—Dad sleeps just next-door." He trailed his fingers along Scorpius' inner thighs. "You might want to tone it down a little," Al said, and then wrapped his lips around Scorpius' cock and sucked, his tongue moving over Scorpius' skin, warm and slick and full of promise, again and again, and Scorpius realised he'd been fighting a losing battle all along. He came with a chocked, cut-off moan that reverberated in the silent room.

"Al?" came Mr Potter's voice, hoarse and sleepy, from the other side of the wall. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, Dad," Al yelled back. "Scorp stubbed his toe, is all."

"Fucking hell, Al," Scorpius breathed; Al chuckled.