grandhighwizard | You gotta trust your mastermind

You gotta trust your mastermind

These things had to be done right. Playing with someone was a pleasant distraction, and like many things in Rhys's life, it was a mixture of spur of the moment decision (he'd certainly never intended to start pursuing the Ancient Runes professor, no matter what he looked like, until he idly needled the man and found out how fascinatingly easy he was to poke) and careful planning to get exactly what he wanted.

So he prepared the herbal tea mixture quite carefully. Blueberry-pomegranate he could do - he had seeds and infusions, and a few black tea leaves, and just a pinch of this and that, all put in a nice little tea ball. It was a tasty mix, with the added benefit that it would render the drinker rather open to suggestion. Not ridiculously so, but just enough that the person would be more willing than usual to go along with requests. Which was just what Rhys needed - Onikous might be oblivious to some things, but best to take no chances. He wanted the younger man thinking this was all his idea.

That morning in the Great Hall, he made sure to get to breakfast in plenty of time to sit down next to the Rune professor, setting a cup of hot water next to the man, and the tea ball dropped gently into the mug, as he settled into his own chair.

"Try that. I made it with you in mind, and I'd like to see if it suits. I can always tweak the formula, if you don't like it."

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He was starting to stammer again and he had to fight off the flush he felt burning into his cheeks. Another bit of his meal, and another sip of wine. Maybe he would need this drink.

"If you say tho...Reeth--er, Rhys. Th-Sorry."

"I do say so," Rhys told him, watching Cy the way a hawk watching a scurrying mouse, before sipping his own wine, and going back to his food. "Now tell me ... what did you do before becoming a professor?"

Because that should give him some interesting insight into the younger man ...

Cyrus took another bite of his meal, and then proceeded to freeze midway through his next bite. He smiled faintly and set his fork down, and took another sip of the wine. Liquid confidence, that's what this was. And it was horrible that he was relying on it--oh, the wine was gone now. Fuck.

"Well, I attended a muggle university, focusing on mythological studies and folklore." he said quietly, trying to avoid looking directly at the older man. "I was receiving training in advanced runic magic as well, but it was a bit challenging to balance them all. But it was a solid eight years of schooling, plus a few more courses taken prior to that--my god, I've spent nearly ten years studying." He glanced up--realizing he was starting to ramble.

"Oh, yes, but long story short. I was a student. This is...actually my first job."

The younger man's wineglass was smoothly refilled, without question or comment, though Rhys was raising his eyebrows at Cy. "And who did you study under for the runic work? I understand many people often go abroad for those studies, though it seems a shame, when we have such a rich culture of magical language and writings here ... "

"A number of people, actually. I did have a number of tutors here in Scotland, but I only remained here for a year or two." And like that, Cyrus was sipping his wine again.

"What about you? What did you do?"

"As you've pointed out, I'm a good deal older than you," Rhys said, with a sly smile. "So I have a bit longer of a history. But I suppose I can give you the condensed version."

He leaned on one hand, gesturing idly with his knife as he spoke. "I apprenticed at an apothecary right out of school, for several years, actually, in Cardiff. I started painting professionally then, as well. This was in the sixties, so things were ... interesting, then. There was a family emergency, however, and I went home to take care of my sister for some time. After that, I became involved in the Ministry, magical law enforcement at first, and eventually the Wizengamot. All this nonsense with the war made me rethink my priorities, however, and I came here when the position opened up."

He grinned, spearing a piece of meat with the point of his knife, and eating it delicately off the blade. "It sounds so dry when I put it like that, doesn't it? I could tell you much more interesting stories, but it might make you blush."

However, even though Rhys was giving him the brief version of the story, he seemed to have Cyrus's attention. His eyes had lit up to the point where he was almost beaming.

"Wizengamot, really?" he asked, finding that he had finished off a fair bit of his meal, causing him to return to the wine yet again. "You've done quite a lot, haven't you. And yet, here you are, teaching instead!"

And Cyrus actually laughed.

That laugh pleased the older man inordinately. It not only meant the wine was working, but that Cy was capable of laughter, which he'd been starting to wonder about. "Twenty years, yes. I have something of a reputation, if you follow politics."

The Potions professor sipped his own wine, much more slowly than his young companion was going through his. "But you talk about teaching as though it isn't an honorable profession," he added archly. "Why are you here, then?"

"Well, I don't follow politics, actually. I avoid it as much as possible." In fact, aside for his father's dead as a repercussion of the recent war, he would not have ever really known about the extremities of the war entirely.

With his plate now cleaned off, Cyrus leans back in his seat, finishing off the other glass of wine. "I say that because you very obviously have done greater things. It's as if this was you...being bored."

He doesn't feel as if he's sharp witted anymore. This is one reason he does not drink.

Rhys tipped his head to one side, resting a forefinger against his jaw. "Oh, I wouldn't say I'm bored. Not even a little bit," he purred. "It's different, here, and I still have my ... hobbies, of course. And I'm meeting so many interesting people."

He stood, smoothly, refilling both their glasses (a splash for his, more for Cy), and gestured to his couch. "Come sit with me? I'm enjoying the conversation ... "

His head had started to swim a bit by this point. It was a bit heavy as he stood up and managed to maneuver his way over to the couch. He was still holding his glass of wine, and he took a sip almost the moment that he sat down.

"My, this...is a bit stronger than I thought." He paused. "What sort of hobbies do you have?"

The taller man sat down, quite a bit closer than was really necessary, letting one long arm rest casually along the back of the couch. "Painting," he said, gesturing at the weird picture of the moth. "Personal research into certain ... formulae. I have several collections of things, as well, and I do love to read."

He smiled again - Rhys seemed to smile a lot. "And what is it you do for fun? What do you enjoy?"

"You painted that?" Cyrus asked, rather breathlessly. He seemed genuinely impressed by that. But he managed a laugh as he took another sip from the glass--whoa, had he seriously finished the glass off between standing up and sitting back down?

"My work's what I do for fun. I fancy astronomy too, I thuppoth."

And just like that--he's lisping. This time from alcohol.

"I did. Your work has to be more than teaching, though, doesn't it?" Rhys asked. "Runes are fascinating, secret languages ... "

Quite casually, the older man brushed his fingers through Cy's hair, just above his ear.

"Hnn--" He wasn't aware that he had just made that noise as Rhys combed his hand through his hair. For a moment, Cyrus muttered something in what was probably ancient Greek before slumping into the couch a bit.

"I read a bit, but I mostly have muggle hobbies."

"Tell me about them." Rhys ignored the noise, stroking his weirdly stained fingers through the younger man's hair again, this time trailing down to his neck, letting his fingertips just gently skim over the surface of the skin.

"Television," Cyrus says, purring quietly, because he's just kind of sunken into the couch thanks to the light stroking of his hair and skin. "I watch a lot of documentarieth about viking civilizationths and--"

He trailed off, and from his mouth came a soft, tiny little groan.

It was a soft couch. Really good for sinking into, actually, and Rhys leaned in, fascinated at how quickly Cy had just given in. Some people didn't get this way even when they were completely wasted - the younger man must have needed it, which Rhys had suspected. The potions professor kept stroking, and then gently lifted Cy's glasses, letting them sit atop his head so the older man could get a better look at those marvelous eyes.

"They don't often work around me. Televisions. Your eyes really are one of the most remarkable things I've seen in a while ... "

And in an instant, Cyrus was blind. He could hardly see anything without his glasses, and in that moment, everything just became a blur of color. It was almost like a drug trip, what with his vision being impaired, the array of hues, and the hum of intoxication buzzing about in his head.

"Izzat tho...?" he asked quietly, now unable to fight the head that came crashing to his face as he started to slink into that sort of relaxing warmth that in some strange way--Rhys was providing.

"Th-thankth..."

"Mmhm." The older man leaned in even further, until his lips were almost pressed up against Cyrus's ear. When he spoke again, his voice was low and hypnotic, his breath soft and warm against the Runes professor's skin, the side of his neck.

"I'm going to kiss you now, and you're not going to stop me, are you?"

Most likely, Cyrus was just enough in a daze for him to not make sense of what had just been sad to him. He merely opened his mouth to ask what he'd just said. But the wine in him made him shut up almost instantaneously.

Rhys laughed, his voice still low and wicked, right next to the younger man's ear. Then he did exactly what he'd said he would, sliding his fingers along Cy's jaw, tugging his face up a bit, and kissing him, slow and easy and deep, the taste of wine on his lips, still.

Reactions? What are those? For the first moment or two, Cyrus remained utterly numb to what was happening. He hadn't even realized that he was being kissed. But it was a gradual motion of his eyes shutting, and his lips parting juuuust slightly, and his body relaxing, and his throat squeezing out a soft, pleasured little noise...before his mind started to tell him just what was happening.

And he didn't object.

Rhys was a big man - around 6'8", with a broad, and powerful build. So it probably wasn't any surprise when he slid his arm around the younger man's body and tugged him closer with seemingly no real effort at all. It probably also wasn't a surprise that at his age he was a very, very good kisser. His lips and tongue moved in a languid, almost lazy way that said he was taking all the time in the world to enjoy the flavor and feel of Cy's mouth, and his fingers at the younger man's jaw stroked in effortless time with what the rest of him was doing.

He'd been right, he knew it, that the young Greek just needed a little coaxing, barely any at all, really, and he responded beautifully. Already he could imagine the pale professor stretched out on his bed, moaning in wanton pleasure.

Oh, this was going to be so fun.

He tried to reason with himself. What was going on? Why was he responding? Why was he enjoying this? For a moment, he's back in Greece with Sal and Di, sharing the bed with them both. It's his first time all over again. He's in the bunk with Candesca and she's running her fingers over his chest, urging him to run his hands over her breasts. Suddenly, he's a virgin all over again. Suddenly. His inexperience over the years catches up with him and he's suddenly absorbed in all of it.

He groaned. Groaned right into the other man's mouth, tongue wriggling about in a confused, but frantic method in order to receive some form of attention. Someone had pulled him into their arms, and they were giving him a special sort of privilege that he seldom got to experience.

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He likes talking about his work. l-lol.

Keep going, Cy!

Yess

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