Dusk and Desire - A Mattheo Riddle Story

Conversations From The Owlery

It was only day two when Mattheo felt like he was going out of his bloody mind. His dick had strained in his pants at the sight of a Hufflepuff's ass in a short skirt when he knew that he was most likely not ending the month with forty galleons in his pocket. You can do this, he told himself as he forced himself to walk away from the girl and onto the Quidditch pitch. There, he spent an hour hitting bludgers back and forth until he no longer thought about her ass and only thought about the beater's club instead. On the bright side, Mattheo thought, I will definitely get this co-captain position with how much extra time I'll be putting in.

His friends hadn't taken to torturing and teasing him—yet. The month was still very early and he had no doubt that Malfoy was coming up with something. The little ferret always had something up his sleeve, usually aimed toward Potter but soon coming toward him. If one of his friends did something as stupid as agreeing to go a month without sex, he'd be right there hoarding it over him too.

Mattheo's only saving grace was that his friends seemed to be just as sexually frustrated as him. The difference was they weren't going to end up with forty galleons in their pocket. Theo—who had always been almost as much as a man-whore as Mattheo—seemed to swear off women for some odd reason Mattheo couldn't name. Draco didn't sleep around as often but ever since his engagement to Daphne Greengrass was announced, he hadn't seemed too interested in anything other than spending time with her and her younger sister. And Enzo—the only one of the friend group who probably cared about anything other than a good time with a girl—may have hidden it well but Mattheo knew that he was just as desperate at the rest of them.

They were a sorry lot, those Slytherin boys, but they were brothers at heart. So if Mattheo was engaged in celibacy, it was ironic that it was at a time when they (unknowingly) were too.

"Dude, if I could somehow find a way to fuck a girl without breaking the bet, we would be golden," Mattheo remarked to Theodore as the two split a cigarette on their way to class. This was a daily ritual for the two of them. A cigarette and a mostly one-sided conversation (usually about women) before potions class. Sometimes, it was Mattheo's favorite part of the day. He knew that he could count on his roommate to be there for him every morning and vice versa. There was something special about their brotherhood. Forged at a young age and only growing stronger with time.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Se mio nonno avesse tre palle sarebbe un flipper."

Mattheo scowled and hit his friend on the back of the head. "You know I don't fucking speak pasta."

Theo chuckled before repeating, "If my grandfather had three balls, he would be a pinball machine. It means that there is no point in thinking about hypotheticals because they will never come to be."

"Oh, so now you're a gelato boy and a philosopher, is that it?" Mattheo frowned as Theo laughed again. Between the two of them, they probably had about a total of three brain cells that hadn't been fried but drugs, alcohol, or just pure teenage boy stupidity. The third one tended to bounce around a lot. Today, it would seem that it was in Theo.

"Calmati, my friend. Calm down." Mattheo couldn't decide whether he liked or hated it when his friend spoke Italian to him. Theodore's deceased mother was Italian so he had spent most of his life in the Nott family villa in Italy. The result was a little git who was a smartass in two languages instead of just one. "Thirty days isn't that long and soon you'll have a pocketful of gold and a chick in your bed. It won't be so bad."

"Unless I can find a way to get off and keep the bet." Yes, that would be ideal. But how? Mattheo considered himself somewhat of a sexpert. He had been called a "god" many times during his fucking career. But even he couldn't think of a loophole through this.