Work Text:
It was one of those rare summer days when the sun actually warmed Feldcroft properly. Ominis had never quite understood why people loved the heat so much, but in that moment, with his back leaning against the rough trunk of an old oak and the wind barely whispering through the leaves, he could almost admit it.
They were alone, as always when they escaped to Feldcroft. Sebastian and him, far from Hogwarts, far from the curious glances of their classmates, far from everything that reminded them they were only "best friends".
Ominis tilted his head when Sebastian's constant chatter suddenly cut off.
"What is it? Why did you go quiet?" he asked, trying to sound casual. But he already knew that pause—it was the same one Sebastian made when something had caught his attention too strongly, when his curiosity turned into something more intense and more personal.
"New mole," Sebastian said, and Ominis felt his voice getting closer. "Right on the left side of your neck. You didn't have that one before."
Ominis's heart gave a small jump. He touched the spot instinctively, feeling the skin slightly warmer under his fingertips. A blush rose to his cheeks without permission. Since when did Sebastian pay so much attention to his moles? How many times had he watched him in silence, memorizing every mark invisible to him?
"Really?" he murmured, though he already knew Sebastian wouldn't lie about something so silly. His friend was many things—impulsive, stubborn, sometimes reckless—but he never lied when it came to details about him.
He felt the weight of Sebastian shifting on the blanket, crawling closer. The air between them changed. It always changed when Sebastian got too close.
"Let me see properly..." Sebastian whispered.
Two fingers carefully pulled aside the collar of his light linen shirt. The touch was soft, almost innocent, but Ominis felt it burn. Suddenly he remembered all the times Sebastian had "casually" brushed his arm in the Slytherin corridors, all the nights in the common room where their knees touched under the table without either of them saying anything. Small contacts that built up electricity, that left Ominis awake for hours in his four-poster bed, wondering if Sebastian felt the same or if it was just his own treacherous imagination.
"One," Sebastian announced, satisfied.
Ominis let out a nervous little laugh, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
"One what?"
"I'm counting," Sebastian replied in that playful tone he always used when he wanted to get his way. "I've always liked counting your moles. You have several on your arms, some on your back... but this one is new. I like it."
"I've always liked counting your moles." The words lingered in Ominis's head. How many times had he felt Sebastian's gaze tracing his skin when he thought he wouldn't notice? How many nights had he stayed awake, heart beating too hard, wondering if those brushes were intentional? Sebastian had always been tactile—he'd put a hand on his shoulder to guide him, brush his back when passing, squeeze his arm when they laughed at something stupid. But this... this was different.
"You're an idiot," he said, though he was smiling, unable to hide the warmth in his voice.
"An idiot, yes... but one who knows how to appreciate art," Sebastian murmured, clearly smiling, and continued, "Two... right here, just below your ear. Three... on your right collarbone."
Sebastian's fingers brushed his skin like feathers. Each touch sent small sparks that gathered in Ominis's stomach, then spiraled down toward more dangerous places. He tried to stay still, but his body was already betraying him.
"Sebastian..." he warned in a low voice, though he wasn't entirely sure if it was a warning or a disguised plea.
"Shh, don't distract me. Seven... eight..."
He felt Sebastian gently tugging at the laces of his shirt. The knot gave way easily, as if it had been waiting for that moment. Before he could truly protest, the fabric opened and Sebastian slid it off his shoulders with skilled, patient fingers. The cool summer air brushed his bare torso, and Ominis felt exposed in a way that went far beyond skin. It wasn't just that he was shirtless—it was that Sebastian was looking at him. Really seeing him, in a way Ominis could never reciprocate with his eyes.
"Fuck..." Sebastian whispered, almost reverent. "Look at all this."
"Look at me," Ominis thought, and the thought embarrassed and aroused him at the same time. His hands clutched the blanket, not knowing where to put them. He wanted to push him away. He wanted to grab him by the nape and pull him closer.
Sebastian's fingers began to move downward, tracing a slow and meticulous path.
"Nine... right here. Ten... eleven... twelve on your chest."
When the pad of his finger brushed one of his nipples "by accident", Ominis jolted and held his breath. The touch had been far too deliberate to be accidental. A spark of pleasure shot through his body, straight to his belly. He felt the nipple harden under the touch, betraying him even more.
"Thirteen... fourteen... fifteen on your ribs."
Ominis was breathing faster now. Each number Sebastian pronounced in a low voice sounded more like a caress than a count. He could feel the heat of Sebastian's breath getting closer and closer to his skin, the weight of his hungry gaze roaming over his torso.
Sebastian kept going down, as if he were discovering a secret map that only he could read.
"Sixteen... right here, just below your ribs. Seventeen... eighteen... Nineteen, on your left hip."
So many? Did he have that many moles?
He had never really noticed. For him, his own body had always been something blurry, something he knew more by touch. But now, with Sebastian's fingers tracing it with such precision, with such hunger, he felt overwhelmed. Each brush revealed a mark Ominis hadn't even known existed. And Sebastian kept going lower, unhurried, as if he wanted to memorize every inch.
Ominis swallowed hard when he felt Sebastian's thumb hook into the waistband of his trousers and tug it down gently, just a few centimeters. The fabric gave way. More skin was revealed. His pulse thundered in his ears.
"Twenty..." Sebastian murmured, voice hoarse. "Twenty-one... right here."
Sebastian continued downward slowly, his fingers tracing the line of his hip, brushing the sensitive skin right where it began to disappear under the fabric. Ominis felt his breathing become irregular, his body responding without permission, blood rushing down, heat pooling between his legs.
"Sebastian..." he said again, but this time it sounded weaker.
Sebastian let out a low, vibrant laugh.
"Yes?"
Ominis pressed his lips together. The blush burned his ears and spread down his neck and chest. He could feel Sebastian's fingers playing with the edge of his trousers, waiting, teasing him with that cruel patience only he knew how to use. And something inside him—that characteristic stubbornness, that arrogance he always used as a shield against the world—ignited suddenly.
He opened his eyes (though uselessly) and lifted his chin slightly with that haughty air his friend knew so well. His voice came out low but firm, clearly challenging.
"Are you going to stop there... or are you going to keep going down?" he asked. "If you want to count them all... do it properly."
Sebastian stayed still for a moment. Ominis could almost feel the surprise mixed with amusement in the silence that followed.
Then came the answer: a soft, playful, and dangerously dark laugh.
"Oh, so suddenly you're getting bossy?" Sebastian murmured with an obvious smile in his voice, leaning his face closer until his breath brushed Ominis's skin. "Let's see how long that attitude lasts when I keep going down."
His fingers tightened slightly on the waistband, pulling it down with more intent this time. The fabric slid lower, revealing the line where the hair began to darken.
"As you wish," Sebastian added, with that slow, wolfish smile Ominis could perfectly imagine—full of promises neither of them had spoken yet.
The wind moved the leaves above them, letting golden specks of light fall that Ominis felt like small warm points on his exposed skin. Neither of them said anything more for a few seconds. All that could be heard was the rustle of the leaves and their increasingly heavy breathing.
