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Quirrel had a secret. Something he could never share with his best friend, and roommate Voldemort. Though the secret wasn’t all that bad, he was sure he’d be mocked for it. For his love of skirts.
He kept them at the back of his closet, and never, ever left them out like he sometimes did his shirts and robes. It didn’t help that he was so head over heels in love with Voldemort that the thought of him discovering his secret was the most mortifying turn on in his arsenal of turn ons. He was also absolutely sure that Tom didn’t feel the same way about him, which is yet another reason he couldn’t find out about the skirt thing. If he did, he would surely figure out that Quirrel is gay and be disgusted with him. Even in the modern world, in which homosexuality was much more accepted, it was surely something the dark lord despised as he did mudbloods and muggles.
^ ^ ^
Voldemort didn’t know what was wrong with him.
The way Quirrel hums as he brews tea for them, or will always remember Voldemort’s favorite things, or even the way he sticks his tongue out just enough when he laughs. It was all disgustingly cute, and Voldemort loved every bit of it, which was considerably abnormal for him. Even today, as he was standing making breakfast for Quirrel, as it was his turn, he couldn’t help but ponder the other man. It’s like ever since he “came home” all he could think about was the other man.
Voldemort has decided to be nice today, and bring Quirrel his breakfast in bed. The other man must be exhausted, as he hadn’t left his room despite it being nearly 11 am. He was usually up and at 'em by 9 at the latest. When he reached the other man’s door, he was surprised to find it cracked. He took advantage of this and peeked inside, only to get the shock of a lifetime.
Standing and admiring himself in his full length mirror, was Quirrel. However, it wasn’t just Quirrel. It was Quirrel standing in a simple white tank top that hugged his lithe body, and a short, red and black, plaid skirt. A skirt. Suddenly the world came crashing down on him, as he suddenly figured out why he’d been feeling so strangely. Not only was he decidedly in love with the other man, he was extremely attracted to him. Something about seeing him in that ridiculously short skirt brought everything to a halt.
Voldemort, ever so calmly, set Quirrel’s breakfast down at the nearby, side table to the couch, and opened the door the rest of the way. When Quirrel didn’t seem to notice the snake man, he made a throat clearing noise.
“Quirrel.” he said, in a calm yet raspy voice.
Aforementioned man whipped his head around and instantly grew fifteen shades darker in color. He clearly had lost track of time, and hadn’t expected to be interrupted.
“V-Voldemort! U-um, y-you weren’t supposed to.”
“I wasn’t supposed to what, Quirrel? See you parading around your room in a school girl’s skirt? Are you sure I wasn’t meant to see that? Because I sure am glad I did.” Voldemort said, keeping his calm facade, though his insides were screaming.
“You. You’re glad?”
“Yes, Quirrel. I’m actually very glad. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to see those long legs on full display.” Voldemort replied, licking his lips. This caused Quirrel to grow an even darker shade of red. Voldemort decided now was his chance, and pushed forward into the room. He slid his hands around Quirrel’s waist, under his shirt, and pulled him flush against his body.
“Is this, okay?” Voldemort double checked.
“Yes!” Quirrel nearly squeaked out.
As soon as permission was granted, Voldemort pulled Quirrel into a heated kiss. Their mouths opened as soon as they came into contact and it was an immediate battle for dominance. They explored each other’s mouths at the same time as their hands explored each other’s bodies. Voldemort’s hands travelled under Quirrel’s shirt and found one pert nipple. He lightly brushed over it, earning a shudder from the other man. As he brought his hand back to lightly pinch, Quirrel moaned into their mouths.
Voldemort broke contact and slowly slid his hands down Quirrel’s waist, hips, and legs. He grabbed his thighs and hoisted the brunette up, who instinctively wrapped his legs around the taller man’s waist. He carried them about a foot over to Quirrel’s bed and laid Quirrel down none too gently.
“What do you want?” Voldemort asked as he started to mouth at Quirrel’s neck.
“I-I want you. I want all of you. P-please.” Quirrel replied around soft moans from the light bruises being sucked into his neck.
“As you wish.” Voldemort responded with a devilish grin, emphasizing his snake like features. As he sat back a bit he took a stuttering breath when he looked down at the younger man. His tank top was both riding up extremely high, and being pulled down, revealing new red marks. His legs were still wrapped around Voldemort’s waist, causing his skirt to fall a bit. Voldemort’s grin grew as he slowly ran his hands up Quirrel’s thighs, and underneath his skirt. This caused the younger man to bite his lip and his already red face to grow redder.
“I should warn you I-I”
“Quirrel. Are you wearing...panties?”
“Y-yes.” He replied, trying to keep as much dignity in his voice as possible.
“You’re so sexy, I can’t even handle this. You’ve been doing this on your own for how long?”
“Basically since I’ve been on my own.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“Yes well I see that now.”
Voldemort decided that was enough talking and brought his lips back to Quirrel’s in a searing kiss. Slowly moving his mouth, while simultaneously caressing the brunette’s thighs. He would caress his inner thigh and then right as he was about to cup him, he’d back off. Quirrel was starting to break out in a sweat.
“Voldemort, s-stop teasing me.”
“As you wish, squirrel. Do you have lube?”
“Bedside drawer.”
Voldemort reached over and whipped open the drawer. After digging around for a second he found a bottle of thick, clear liquid. He then resumed mouthing at Quirrel’s neck and chest. He held the bottle in one hand, while finally moving his other hand to fondle Quirrel through lacy pink underwear. Quirrel couldn’t help the loud moans that escaped him as he was being ravaged by both hand and mouth.
Finally, Quirrel popped open the bottle and squirted just enough lube onto one finger. He pushed the panties aside and slowly started making his way into Quirrel’s entrance. Finding a particular, spongy spot that made Quirrel moan even louder only proved to widen Voldemort’s grin, and cause him to slip in a second, lubed up finger. He made scissoring motions in an attempt to get the younger man to loosen up, all while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You’re doing great. Relax. Just let yourself feel everything.
By the time he slipped a third finger in, he could feel Quirrel start to loosen up, but kept going. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his precious Squirrel. So he kept at it. He made sure not to brush against the prostate too much, as he wouldn’t want Quirrel to come before the real funs even begun.
“P-please. Voldemort. Tom, I can’t wait any longer.”
Voldemort shuddered at his birth name being used in such a way, but quickly pulled out all three fingers with a satisfying pop. He quickly pulled down his tight black pants. He used the leftover lube and a bit more new lube on his member. He then utilised Quirrel’s legs around his waist to flip them over so Voldemort was on his back, Quirrel on top of him. Before any complaints could be made, he was sliding Quirrel down onto himself. The initial wince was followed by obvious ecstasy on Quirrel’s face, and all Voldemort could do was stare. Quirrel noticed this and quickly became bashful.
“I must look ridiculous.”
“Quirrel, I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than you do right this second. Which is saying something, because you’re drop dead gorgeous.”
This caused Quirrel to blush deeper, and Voldemort took advantage of his being distracted to pull out and slam back into the younger man. This, apparently, took Quirrel’s mind off of things. As they began to move in sync with one another, Voldemort hitting Quirrel’s prostate over and over, the younger man grew louder. Both of their movements became more and more frantic, until they were coming in sync. Quirrel came all over Voldemort’s stomach and his underwear, while the latter man came inside of Quirrel.
It took all of Quirrel’s remaining strength to lift himself up and off of a now soft Voldemort, and roll over onto his back. Voldemort grabbed some tissues from the still open bedside table drawer and cleaned them up. He then threw his arm over Quirrel, who shuffled his way to laying on Voldemort’s pec, a hazy smile on his face.
^ ^ ^
The two men woke up around 2:30 pm on sweat soaked sheets. Quirrel was still wearing his skirt and tank, but had foregone the underwear. Voldemort was completely nude, as he’d been walking around shirtless, as per usual.
Quirrel was the first to stir. He felt oddly happy and well rested, which was weird for him in the mornings. He was confused at the warmth and the sweat, until the morning came rushing back to him, and he sat straight up, alarmed.
“Quirrreeeelllllllll.” Voldemort groaned, turning his face over, “Go back to sleep” he said slightly muffled by Quirrel’s pillow.
“Voldemort. Did we um, was all of that real? Like I’m not gonna wake up from this dream right?”
“Damn, was it that good for you too?” Voldemort replied, lifting his head and grinning. This time there was no devilishness behind it. Just love.
“Y-yes. I just. This wasn’t like, a one time thing was it?” He questioned aloud, nervousness clear in his voice.
“Quirrel.” Voldemort said, sitting up to be eye level (or slightly above) with the younger man, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m madly in love with you.”
Quirrel’s face grew a dark shade of red, and his face split into a wide smile as he leaned over to kiss Voldemort’s lips in a chaste, yet soft and sweet kiss.
“I love you too Voldemort. I’m in love with you too.”
“Well that’s good. Would’ve hated to get dumped before our first date.”
“Yeah that would’ve been a real bummer. Now I vote on eating something, I’m starved.”
“Look to your left as you walk out the door, should still be good, just stick it in the microwave. You eat, I’m gonna clean these sheets.”
“Did you? Is that why you were coming into my room this morning?”
“Yes, yes it was.”
Quirrel smiled and kissed Voldemort on the cheek, “Thank you Tom.” He said right by the older man’s ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Quirrel jumped out of bed and started for the door.
“You’re just gonna leave that on?” said Voldemort, clearly referring to the skirt.
Quirrel shrugged, “Why not? You seem to enjoy it.” He winked and left the room, leaving Voldemort speechless.