KinnPorsche at Hogwarts

Kinn x Porsche [3]

"Okay," Porsche said, looking at the ugly bite in the mirror. "How do I get rid of it?"

"I don't think you can," Vegas replied, wetting his kerchief as he wound it up before tying it around his nose. "You're going to have to wait it out."

"How long?"

"A week?" Vegas asked. "I can't be sure unless I've read more."

"I thought you'd know."

Deadpanned, he looked at Porsche.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have the brain capacity of a regular human being."

"What's that for?" Porsche asked, waving at the kerchief on his nose.

"You smell..." Vegas gulped. "You smell good. Your body's trying to complete the transition and so anything will excite you."

"Complete the transition?"

Magical creatures weren't exactly Porsche's thing. As soon as he left, he was going to go check it out or go crazy. But at the moment, he had no idea what Vegas was talking about.

"You have to ejaculate to become an incubus."

Porsche frowned, eyes shifting to look at the spot just above Vegas' head. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Vegas was Vegas. It was just whatever. But for some reason, his brain was trying to do weird things, trying to shift Vegas into places he wasn't meant to be. Because, currently, they were the only two people in the bathroom, and Porsche had no idea why that thought was expressly exciting.

"Are you sure?"

He remembered the man from before. The one in his memory that had obviously done something to - something with Porsche.

"It's straight forward, really. The incubus bites you and then has sex with you."

"Maybe they were interrupted."

"Clearly."

"Maybe they just wanted to feed on me."

"If they wanted to feed, they'd just fuck you and leave. The bite infects you with the venom that makes you no longer palatable. Makes you kin. So, no. This incubus was trying to turn you, not feed on you."

That was what that was. The man that Porsche kept remembering.

Which was good news.

Porsche didn't fuck anyone else.

PORSCHE DIDN'T FUCK ANYONE ELSE.

Jumping and punching his fist in the air, Porsche couldn't help it. He felt like kissing Vegas. As he headed in Vegas' direction, Vegas swooped under him, running to the other end of the bathroom.

"I'm not going to hold this against you, Porsche, but we have to take precautions."

"What precautions?"

"For one, you can't leave this bathroom as long as you're," he hesitated "Like that."

"Like what?"

"You're turned on. You're smelling like heaven because you're excited. Calm down so we can leave."

"I'm fine," Porsche shrugged.

"You're going to go out there and enthrall someone who won't have the good sense to cover their noses. We can't have that."

Shrugging, shaking his head and hopping on the spot, Porsche clapped his hands.

"How do I do that? You said I can't... ejaculate."

"Think of something that's the opposite of exciting for you. Think of knowledge. Try to imagine being smart. Think of books."

"Fuck you."