A Game of Cat and Mouse

O N E

Elio woke up next to two naked girls. Thank Merlin they weren't cuddling him. Elio didn't do cuddling. He didn't do cuddling or kissing or any of that unnecessary romantic shit. In his experience, it usually led to mixed signals even though he told them in advance that he wanted nothing more than a good lay. But, alas, women wanted him and who was he to say no? He never lied—his mother detested lying too much for him to do it—and he couldn't help it if they thought he would change his mind. He never did. He didn't do relationships. What did he do? Shit like this.

He sat up but immediately regretted it. Fuck. His head was pounding. It felt like someone had let a dragon loose inside of his skull. In times like these, Elio had but two options: brew some potion and tough it out for a few hours or drink more and delay the hangover a little longer. When he saw the half-drunk bottle of firewhisky on the floor, he knew what to do. He took a swig, swirling it around his mouth for a few moments and resolving to drink more when he was at home.

Elio rubbed at his eyes before standing up, seeing his discarded trousers and shirt on the floor. They would be noticeably wrinkled, which meant that he risked his mother murdering him when he walked through the door even more. Then again, she probably would murder him anyway.

What even happened last night? He remembered firewhisky, lots of it with Scorpius and Albus as Scorpius ranted about something his parents were doing this weekend. But after that, his memory was gone. The only reminders of what happened were the two women in the bed and the lingering taste of alcohol on his breath. He didn't even know where he was. Some girly, frilly room that was horribly decorated. He had never brought a girl home so he wasn't surprised, though usually he left when they fell asleep so his mother wouldn't quite know what sort of debauchery her son was committing.

Yup. She was definitely going to kill him. Shame, too. He was too pretty to die this young.

As Elio did the buttons on his shirt, he looked down at the girls. They weren't even that attractive. Decent faces, yes, and the blonde one on the right had a good pair of tits but that was about it. È la vita. It's life, as his father would say in the swift Italian tongue that he and Elio shared. Fucking was fucking. Who was he to complain?

"You're awake," the dark girl purred while the blonde one stirred. She was the one with the good ass, though he was usually more of a tits man himself. Perhaps that was why his eye kept darting to the blonde instead. "Ready for more?"

She was eyeing his dick hungrily. Elio was used to it. To put it simply: he knew he had a good body. Women always eyed his penis like it was the next messiah, which certainly helped his already massive ego. His body was tall and toned, his brown hair messy, and his eyes a dark, deep blue that offset against his tan skin. Elio knew he was attractive. Why deny facts? Why be humble when everyone constantly remarked how pretty and handsome he was? Was he going to call them liars? Or was he going to accept the compliment with a smile and, if they were good-looking, a good fuck? To him, that decision seemed easy.

"Sorry, ladies," Elio said because he couldn't remember their names. There was no point in learning them now when he was never planning on seeing them again. "I regrettably have to go."

The blonde one writhed on the bed, bringing Elio's attention down to her pink cunt. Fuck, he wanted another lay. His dick was already hard with want and he really didn't have to use his hand later when there were two salivating women here practically begging to let him bury himself inside. But he didn't have time. He was already risking his mother's wrath as it was, coming home in the morning instead of at night. "But sweetheart—"

"No names," he growled because names were romantic and he didn't do romance. Romance meant needing someone and Elio didn't need anyone. Sometimes, when he was alone and sober in his bedroom (usually after his mother scolded him for another night like one of these), he thought he might have felt pangs of loneliness. The feeling that this wasn't how his life was meant to be, that there was something (or someone) missing from it all. But then Elio just took a few drinks and found some girl to fuck. That usually took care of the feelings for a while.