Kept

Warnings: AU/ Foul language. Explicit sexual content between consensual adults.

Rated: R


Navigating through late night Boston traffic Blaise Zabini hoped on the Pike, lead foot on the gas pedal he punched sixty, pushing the black Mustang until he was cruising at a comfortable seventy. Turning the radio up to deafening decibels, he bopped his head to the hardcore rap blaring through the sound system, a shit-eating grin on his face. He was fucking amped, why, because his best friend was coming home. He hadn't seen Draco in almost nine years, since the summer of their senior year in high school if he remembered correctly.

He and Draco had grown up together, lived in the same neighborhood for practically their entire lives. They'd become immediate best friends in fourth grade when Dylan McFarrin had made a racist comment about Blaise and Draco had come to his defense soon after, they'd been inseparable since. Known through the old neighborhood as Draco and Blaise, people didn't mention one name without the other. Middle school had been a series of hijinks that took them well into freshman year in high school.

They hung out with the same crowds, dated practically the same girls until junior year when Draco had discovered the “Almighty Ass” as he'd dubbed it. Came out to Blaise at Marcus Flint's house party that night. High as a fucking kite, he'd blurted out that he'd had a thing for Theodore Nott, a senior back then who'd been captain of the Lacrosse team. Nothing had ever come out of that crush, except for Draco's confession and his and Blaise's inevitable roll in the sac a week or so later. Junior year had been filled with discoveries for them. As well as filling out college applications, prepping for college entrance exams and dealing with AP classes, they'd learned that Blaise was a big Nellie bottom and Draco was one hell of a top that very happily bottomed for Blaise when it'd been time to pop his ass cherry.

They'd also discovered that they were far too similar to be in a relationship with each other, but sex was always a way for them to connect, stay close and find or give comfort when the other was in need of it. They had made plans back in freshman year to attend the same college, room together in the dorms and basically live out the next four or so years of their college lives together, just like always. Their plans however were derailed weeks into their last summer vacation before college. Draco and his mother were moving. To Washington State to join his dad, who'd wanted to reconcile with his mother after their three year long separation. Blaise had been devastated, completely inconsolable the day he had to say goodbye to his best friend. Sure they'd promised to email, call...Skype, but they both knew things would never be the same again. It'd hurt like hell letting Draco go that summer and time had eventually healed that wound, but their friendship had suffered for it.

They'd contacted each other on several occasions during the last nine years, had even seen each other during spring break five years ago, although their interaction had been far too brief and not all together satisfying as far as Blaise had been concerned. But that was all okay now because he was coming back to Boston, for good this time and Blaise couldn't have been happier. He signaled right, merged into the far right lane and took the Logan Airport exit. Draco had called him a week ago, telling Blaise he was heading back to the East Coast. Some shit had gone down with his old man. A homophobic high-powered businessman of some sort who'd expected Draco to fall in line, follow in his footsteps and eventually take over the company he had going back West. Draco wasn't the obey and follow sort of guy, Blaise knew this all too well and so wasn't surprised when Draco had told his dad to “fuck off”. Now he was on his way here, was probably here already if his plane had arrived on time, and Blaise had offered him a place to stay for as long as he wanted. It wasn't much; the apartment he shared with his three former college roommates wasn't much to look at. But it was spacious, room enough for three grown ass men to live in without stepping on each other’s toes and with their fourth roommate in Montana with his family for summer break there was a spare room to rent out until the fall.

When Blaise had told Draco that he didn't need to worry about rent, his prideful friend had made it perfectly clear that he would pay for it. How, Blaise had no clue, but maybe he could arrange some gigs for him while he was here. Draco was a ridiculously awesome musician who could play the guitar like nobody's business and his voice...God his voice. Blaise could listen to the man sing for days and not tire of it. The first time he'd heard Draco sing had been on Blaise's sixteenth birthday.

They'd waited until his parents had gone to sleep, before sneaking his old man's bottle of Jack back to the attic Blaise had called his bedroom. They'd drank themselves into a stupor, lying on his bed, with the moon streaming through the arched window, midnight had carried in Blaise's sixteenth birthday and with it Draco's husky, soft tenor voice serenading Blaise with the infamous “Birthday song”. It'd been the sexiest, romantic thing of his life and it that moment Blaise had known Draco had ruined him for any other. They'd fucked. Hard, slow, deliciously sensual and it'd been all Blaise could do not to scream the house down during each one of his Draco induced orgasms. Hands down the best fucking birthday he's had thus far.

Blaise knew a few people, Seamus, actually owned a Pub in Harvard Square and the Irishman owed him a favor, Blaise intended to collect. He would do just about anything to hear his friend sing again. Taking the ramp up to Terminal B he maneuvered to the outside parking lot, grabbed a ticket from the automated box before driving around to find a parking space. A blue Dodge Caravan was pulling out in the second row, third space in, and Blaise thanked his lucky stars for finding such a great spot. He pulled in, clean and easy, shut off the ignition and opened the car door. A close look at his watch told him he was a few minutes late. With eagerness pumping through his veins, Blaise raced across the parking lot. Entering the terminal like a madman, he fleeted through each gate until he reached gate B11. Winded Blaise took a moment to recuperate before approaching the guard rail separating the twittering crowd from the arrivals.

While he waited, he peered around him. The crowd gathered around the gate, mostly family members with “Welcome Home” posters and friends like himself, stirred restlessly. Probably about as excited as Blaise felt as they waited for the arrivals to clear security and claim their luggage. The wait was infinite, minute after minute he watched as person after person walked through the gaping B11 entrance, none of which were Draco. He'd swiped his clammy hands down his jeans over the last half hour and did so again after taking a peek at his watch. His heart raced erratically in his chest, beads of sweat forming against his mocha colored skin. The frown between his brows only deepened as thoughts began to germinate in his mind, wondering if Draco had changed his mind last minute and decided to remain in Seattle after all. Disappointment weighed heavy in the pit of his stomach when an hour later Draco had yet to make an appearance.

The crowd had thinned out some, the vibrating excitement from before had dwindled down to a quiet hum. He looked crestfallen, forlorn standing by his lonesome at the far right end of the last few people who remained. He inwardly cursed, both Draco and himself when he felt the sting of tears behind his lids, blinking rapidly only seemed to exacerbate it. He turned frantically searching for a bathroom to escape to before he made a complete fool out of himself.

“Blaise!” Blaise didn't make it very far before the call of his name had him turning back, he saw him about a yard or so away, drawn like a lodestone he ran to him and embraced him like the world was falling.

“You fucking bastard!” he said around the lump in his throat, squeezing the other man for dear life it seemed, Blaise however didn't really give a damn. Draco would just have to deal and his best friend did dealing particularly well as he squeezed Blaise back just as tight, the throaty chuckle at his ear eliciting emotions in Blaise only Draco was able to draw out. “Fuck, I've missed you.” he sighed minutes into the infinite, reluctantly releasing Draco, he took a step back.

“Right back atcha,” he smiled and Blaise temporarily forgot how to breathe. He had forgotten the effects of that smile, but the memories were swift in reminding him. He felt sixteen again, taken back to that night of their first kiss. Draco had looked all types of scrumptious, confident, alluring as appose to the nauseatingly nervous mess that Blaise had been. Cradling his face like he'd been the most precious thing in the world, he'd kissed his cheek with all the tenderness of a proficient lover and smiled at Blaise like he did now, all charismatic charm and male sweetness.

God, how he'd missed this man.

He looked as he had back then, crazy sexy, with just the slightest dose of rough beneath the surface to make people curious. It'd been this way since they were teens, people were aware of Draco Malfoy, were inexorably drawn to him like proverbial moths. He had this sort of understated sex-appeal, strangely seductive without meaning to be.

Standing at about six foot two, Draco was taller than Blaise by a few inches, but it felt like more to Blaise staring at his buddy now. They had the same build, classic v-shaped swimmer's physique, broad shouldered, defined abdominals, tapered waist and long, powerful legs. He was dressed casually in dark blue jeans and a loose gray hoodie that he'd left unzip, showing the slight slopping v-neck of the white shirt beneath. The silver chain hanging around his neck was new, so was the black tattoo peeking out from the side of his neck. The black and white Chucks at his feet seemed to have seen better days yet nothing could possibly take away from his appearance in Blaise's opinion. There wasn't anything delicate about Draco Malfoy except the full head of pale blond hair that now fell in messy layers around his head. He was a sight for sore eyes and Blaise feasted on the sight of him, getting his fill only when Draco reached out and punched his arm.

“Keep looking at me like that, Zabini and we might have to find the nearest bathroom.” Blaise knew he was only joking; the mischievous twinkle in deep set smoky gray eyes indicated as much, but Blaise was ready and willing to take him up on the offer. What he wouldn't give to have Draco's cock between his lips again. Just the thought had him shifting uncomfortably.

“Let’s get you settled first, and then we'll talk.” God he was itching for a good, long, rough fuck and Draco was the only one who could do him right. He'd beaten off more times in the last week than he'd had in the past year from the all the mental images his mind had conjured of himself and Draco going at it like they were teenagers again.

To keep himself distracted, he peered down at Draco's worldly possessions. The guitar case and the black duffel bag. Both temporarily forgotten on the floor in their hasty reunion.

Knowing he'd never trust anyone with his guitar, best friend or not, Blaise reached for the duffel bag instead, tugging it out of Draco's hand even while he protested.


“What the fuck's the big idea making me wait practically two hours for your ass?” Blaise asked as they walked side by side, exiting the terminal.

Draco laughed, “You never did do waiting well. I'm sorry; my plane got a four hour layover in some Podunk town out West before getting here. I'm tired as shit.” They found the Mustang easily enough and Blaise puffed with pride upon hearing Draco's appreciative whistle. He'd had it washed, buffed and shined before he'd hoped on the Pike. It seemed the extra ten bucks he'd invested hadn't been in vain.

“Nice ride, man. Must've cost you a pretty penny.”

With duffel bag and guitar securely stored in the trunk, Blaise grinned as he settled into the driver's seat, buckling his seat while he was at it. “Yeah, but it was worth it though.” The engine revved to life, with it the deafening sound of rap coming out the system in the back. Draco immediately reached out to lower it, tossing a glare Blaise's way in the process.

“You're going to murder your eardrums.”

“It's 'The Chronic' Dray, you gotta keep this shit bumpin!” Draco laughed outright, the sort of gut clenching laughter that brought tears to his eyes. It was still as funny as the first time Blaise had tried his “Hood” talk when they'd been fifteen. Growing up in suburban Tillington, Blaise had been as white bread as it came and at fifteen, when a cousin from Roxbury had come to visit, he'd mercilessly teased Blaise on being a little “Oreo Bitch” as he'd called him. So Blaise, determined to prove that he was still “down” and “Black” had started listening to gangster rap, dressing like a thug and practically every word out of his mouth had been a swear. His parents had been mortified and quite thankful when he'd grown out of the phase a few weeks later, the rap music however had stuck, something Draco hadn't minded, considering he was also a fan.

Although the laughter had abated, remnants of his gaiety lingered on his face as he glanced over at his biracial friend; fondness darkened his limpid silver eyes. Taking stock of smooth mocha skin, high cheekbones, and those slanting doe-brown eyes that were as expressive now as they'd been nine years ago, Draco realized Blaise was as attractive in ¾ profile as he was full on. He looked so much like the Blaise he remembered and yet...time had smoothed away adolescence and replaced boyish features with that of a man, defined, artfully crafted, like the opus of a master sculptor.

Memories as sweet as the warm summer air blowing through the open windows skimmed along his mind and Draco's smile widened. They'd done so much together. The best times of his life he could remember had been with Blaise. From childhood to near adulthood, they'd been symbiotic. They'd been each other’s first in everything and when he'd needed reprieve from the hell that had been home, it'd been Blaise there to provide a safe haven.

Just as he did now. Theirs was a special relationship that was as convoluted as the love and affection Draco had for him. The bond between them he could say went deeper than friendship, was thicker than blood, lovers, yes, brothers to the very end. The very first sight of him in that airport had been like breathing again like...like home.

He reached over, clasping Blaise's shoulder he squeezed affectionately, needing the touch. Blaise turned and grinned, seemingly reading his mind, he said. “It's good to have you home, Dray, missed the fuck outta ya.”

Draco grinned.“Yeah, missed the fuck outta ya too.” Truer words had never been spoken. Blaise was home. Boston was home. More home at least than the hell Seattle had been. But Seattle was behind him. At least for a little while.

With Blaise gunning down The Pike like his ass was on fire, it took them less than a half hour to get to Allie-Way, a small neighborhood of Boston in the Western part of the city. Consisting mostly of remodeled brownstones, wooden triple-deckers and late eighteenth century single-family Victorian homes that had been converted into dorms; Allie-Way was predominantly a student neighborhood. It was located smack-dab in the middle of three major universities. Hillside to the far East, Bradbury a little further North and Benson school of music a few minutes’ walk from the Victorian dormitories. Grand street housed the majority of triple-deckers in Allie-Way, painted the same bland colors of dark brown and dove gray, they lined the street in nondescript queues. Half past ten on a warm summer evening had the residents out and about, some seated on their decks, while others strolled around the neighborhood. The sound of loud drums emitting from two apartments down greeted them as they exited the car.

“Ron and the lollipops are at it again.” Blaise said as he shouldered Draco's duffel and slammed the trunk door shut soon after his friend grabbed his guitar.

“They any good?”

“Ron is. Their lead singer is shit though. But he's all Ron's got until he can get a new one. They're mostly a cover band. But if you're interested--”

Draco smiled, following Blaise up the flight of stairs. “Nah, I'm more of a soloist. I don't work well with others, apparently.”

“I didn't think so, but I had to ask.” he said as he opened the front door and walked inside the open foyer, dropping Draco's duffel by the front door. “Home sweet Home, Dray. S'not much, but it'll do you for now.” he toed off his shoes and advised Draco to do the same as he closed the door behind them. “Put your shit down and let me give you the tour.” The living room, dining room and kitchen existed in one large open space, delineated by oak flooring and strategically placed vintage furniture. The three large bay windows in the living room that allowed ample amount of sunlight during the day, where drawn wide open to allow the warm evening breeze in. The curved alcove, where the middle window was situated housed a white bookcase of books, DVDs and picture frames. In fact, the cream colored walls were overrun with an array of framed photographs, differing in size from the next each were filled with pictures of laughing faces, Blaise in nearly all of them.

“We spend most of our down time in the living room, especially during midnight cram sessions. Just behind me, you have the kitchen. We take turns stocking it every two weeks.” he stepped over the threshold to enter the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. “I did the groceries two days ago, got all your favorites. Heads up.” lightening fast reflexes had Draco catching the bottle of chocolate milk mid-air. “Nice catch.”

“Thanks.” Taking a gulp of the beverage was like stepping back into childhood; Draco's smile remained as he followed his friend, silently noting the empty pizza boxes and beer cans as they went further into the apartment.

“Down the end of the hall you have Cedric and Oliver rooms, they share the bathroom over there. Oliver works as a bartender down at The Goblet with Seamus, so he's home mostly during the day. Cedric's more of the trust fund kid with too much time and more money than he knows what to do with. Hear that?” Blaise quieted for a second and invited Draco closer so that he could hear the creaking bed-springs that went in perfect synchronization with the moans and grunts from the occupants of the room. “Cedric's room is a like a revolving door of people. Dick or snatch he's an equal opportunity lover. Will fuck anything with a hole.”

“Get the fuck away from my door, Zabini!” Came the muffled voice from inside the bedroom. Blaise's laugh echoed down the hall as they made their way up the bronze metal staircase. “Your room's upstairs, next to mine and across from Harry's. We share this bathroom, but I tend to keep my things downstairs, since Harry tends to hog the bathroom in the mornings. Like Oliver, you won't get to see him much.”

“Works at the Goblet too?”

Switching the light to Draco's bedroom, Blaise turned and wryly smiled. “Nah, he works at Dukes in Chains over on Hammond. Well, buddy, this is you. How'dya like it?” There wasn't much to it really. A single bed against the left wall, a dresser on the opposite end, a 14 inch television placed upon that dresser, a lamp table by the bed and two classic windows on each side of the room, covered with dark blue curtains. It wasn't anywhere close to what he was accustomed to, but freedom had never looked better.

“It’s great, man, uh--.” Draco scratched the back of his head before looking at his friend. “Don’t know how to thank you for this---”

“Shut it up, Malfoy, you know you'd do the same for me. I'll let you get settled, come down when you're ready.” before stepping out the room, he turned and glanced over his shoulder. “I'm glad you called, Draco.” he was gone too quick for Draco to respond, but then he had the sneaking suspicion that that was exactly what Blaise had intended. With a world weary sigh, Draco settled his guitar case by the foot of the bed and took a seat on the mattress. It yielded to his weight, surprisingly comfortable as he allowed his body to fall back. With another sigh, he brought his arm across his face and closed his eyes. Shit he was tired. Mentally. Physically. Drained. Try as he might to forget, the troubles of his past nipped at the edges of his mind like demon hounds yipping for a pound of flesh.

Guilt, anguish and anger coalesced into a burning ache in the pit of his abdomen, refusing to give him peace. The tattoo at his forearm ached, reminding Draco of the reason why he'd fled to Boston. It had been all a part of the “initiation” into the family. An initiation he'd accomplished perfectly, but was all the more sick for having done it. It was when the walls began closing in, when the image staring back at him through the mirror appeared more and more like the man he despised that Draco knew he needed to get out. He'd been given an ultimatum just as he knew Lucius would do and as difficult as it'd been, Draco had turned his back on his mother...his family. Had he remained, Draco had no doubt that he would've become the soulless killer his father had worked so hard to mold him into. He'd played the puppet for too long, remained under his father's thumb for his mother's sake and in the end it'd all been for naught.

She'd made her choice and Draco had made his. He'd pleaded with her to come with him. She'd chosen to remain with her husband. And he...well he was in Boston with Blaise. Despite his best efforts to swallow his bitterness, it came up raw and acrid, bile skimming the back of his throat. He'd given up his childhood for her. Given up his sanity. His fucking life. Everything. And she'd chosen that abusive, crime lord over her son. But really, if he could be honest with himself, Draco knew he shouldn't have been surprised. Lucius pulled the strings and Narcissa and everyone else in the family was expected to follow. Lucius was law, disobey and you could find yourself buried six-feet under in seconds flat. Only reason why Draco was even breathing was because he was Lucius's only son. You didn't kill your first born.

“Yo, Dray, you hungry?” Blaise's voice drew Draco from his morbid thoughts long enough for him to realize he'd clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists. Fists that were still bruised from their last endeavors. Tamping down his emotions took some effort, but he just barely managed to slip on his facade of nonchalance before Blaise burst into his bedroom. As if aware of his inner battle, Blaise peered at him closely, doe-brown eyes searching. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, great. Hey, how about you give me a few minutes to wash up and we go visit our old haunts? Maybe grab a pint at The Goblet?”

The slight frown between Blaise's brow did not disappear all together as he said, “Uh, yeah, sure. That'll give me a chance to introduce you to Seamus.” the probing gaze remained only a second longer before he turned to leave. “You sure you're Ok?”

“Yes Mom.”

“Yeah, fuck you.”

“Condom and Lube, Baby.” Draco laughed as Blaise flipped him off and walked away.