Many thanks to @thestarkerisobvious for writing such an amazing story!! I hope you all love it as much as I do.
Tony’s hands fumbled as he rushed to get the present into the box. Dammit, why hadn’t he just ordered it gift-wrapped? Another glance at the clock told him he was out of time. Scotch taping the box shut, then a bow slapped on top, that’s all he had time for. He’d curse himself for getting behind…
…but not the reason he fell behind. He couldn’t fault himself for the reason he was behind. The reason he couldn’t slip away up until now. Up until now he had spent every moment of this lovely fall day taking care of his witch, and he had done his job well. He had made sure Peter had eaten at appropriate times (even though so much of the Mabon rituals involved baking this year, Peter still couldn’t be trusted to eat once his complicated plans began, even when he was in the kitchen.)
Usually, Tony’s job for the holy days was always the same - provide the food Peter had prescribed for the occasion, make sure he ate, then make himself useful/scarce and, finally, be available for the final bedtime ritual.
But this year was different. Mabon, like Yule, always involved a fire in the fireplace. But at Yule their get-away cabin would be full of Yuletide guests, and the fire in the fireplace? Well lets just say that room would be full of too many bodies.
But not tonight. Tonight the fireplace room, like the rest of their cabin, was empty. And tonight, Tony had plans.
The rug in front of the fireplace, Tony had decided, would be too irritating to bare skin, so tonight a bedsheet was spread over the rug just for this occasion. The bedsheet was the same color as the gift he was hurriedly trying to wrap now... Tony had planned ahead.
But he hadn’t planned well. There were things that Peter wanted to happen at a certain time on Mabon night, and another hurried glace at the clock told him the moment was now. Picking up the white box he walked casually into the fireplace room and set the present in the center of his bedsheet-covered rug. He added another log to the fireplace, making sure everything was in readiness for his witch.
The cabin smelled amazing. Of all the pagan holidays, Mabon probably smelled the best (although Yule would be his second favorite.) Spring and Summer rituals might involve the scent of pleasant oils and herbal mixtures, but they were just as likely to involve mixtures that made Tony wince. Not that he would ever complain to Peter (those oils and herbal simples were for practical reasons, not to smell nice.) But Mabon meant baking, apple-cranberry pies and wonderful warm cider and lovely pumpkin recipes. Tony smiled as he poked at the fire, enjoying the memories. Being with his witch was always an adventure.
And here his witch was now, stepping into the fireplace room with two cups of said cider, signaling that his rituals were finished. His eyes lit up as he saw his present on the floor, a white box with a wine-colored bow.
“For me?” he asked slyly, innocently, but that only made Tony grin more.
Taking the mugs out of Peter’s hands he placed them safely off the rug, onto the hardwood floor, as Peter knelt to open the box. Only when he was on his knees did he notice the soft wine bedsheet that had been spread over the rug. He looked at Tony in curiosity.
“This is for tonight,” Tony said quietly, bending down for a kiss. “For when I get you naked,” he whispered.
“Oh... oh... you mean...” he blinked up at Tony, then looked into the roaring fire. “You mean... in front of the fireplace? Oh Tony that’s so romantic...”
Breathlessly Peter turned his attention to the box. He didn’t seem to care at all that it wasn’t wrapped. He struggled with the tape (which Tony had put there on purpose, to slow down the opening.) and oooh’ed and ah’ed appropriately as he pushed away the white tissue paper. As if he didn’t know that it would be lingerie, as it always was.
But Peter’s caught breath, when he actually lifted up the wine-colored chemise, was sincere. His eyes went wide at the matching panties. Tony watched his face closely... panties had never been part of the gifts before. Until now Peter’s fancy things were always long, usually falling to mid-thigh. Teasing Peter’s cock through the silk, both with his hands and his mouth, was part of the joys of the special evening ritual. Especially when it was Tony’s turn to give the five-fold kiss.
They had never even talked about below-the-belt lingerie, dammit maybe they should have? Suddenly Tony was nervous. This might have been a misstep…
Peter’s mouth hung open.
Tony waited.
“Oh. Oh. Tony is this is… Tony this…”
His mouth opened and closed again. And that was unusual. Peter hadn't stumbled overs his words in … well, not in a long time. It made the knot in Tony’s stomach tighten even more. Maybe he should have…
But then Tony saw that sly smile come back.
He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t miscalculated. His witch was pleased.
And not just politely pleased, either. Those narrowing eyes, that wicked grin that was slowly growing on his face… oh that was GOOD. Peter wasn’t just pleased.
Peter was planning.
“This.…” He held up the tiny slip of fabric. “These … are these going to bring all the boys to the yard… nonono, wait,” He giggled then and stammered. That’s clearly not what he had meant to say. He shook his head and tried again.
“I meant…
“I meant… is this going to bring a man to his knees?”
Now Tony was the one with his mouth hanging open. What was going to happen tonight, what always happened after rituals, involved Peter laying on his back with Tony laying with him. First to place the first-fold kiss on the feet, then scooting up to place the second-fold kiss on Peter’s knees. As for the third-fold kiss, well, that was done the same way they usually did that sort of thing… with Peter’s legs held close against Tony’s chest, his arms around Peter’s waist and Peter’s hands buried in Tony’s hair. That’s the way Peter liked it. Peter didn’t like it standing up, with Tony on his knees at Peter’s feet, although Tony had offered to do it that way a million times…
…actually Tony had offered to do it that way since the night they had become lovers. But Peter hadn’t wanted it standing up. Tony had asked… begged to do it that way, really. But Peter had always blushed and giggled and declined. It made Tony be ‘too far away,’ he complained. And it made him feel too silly, doing it that way. Doing it standing up. But right now… right now it sounded like Peter was saying…
“What I mean is,” Peter was saying now, stepping closer. With that look in his eyes. That confident look. The one Tony loved. That wicked gleam - that look of sexual confidence that Tony didn’t get to see very often in his young lover…
…the one that, really, only came on ritual days.
The one that came on ritual nights.
“…is this what is going to bring a powerful man to his knees? Bring a rich man to his knees?” Peter was crooning, now draping a casual hand over Tony’s shoulder, letting his fingers play on the back of Tony’s neck.
“Maybe,” he continued in a whisper that made Tony shiver. “…this will bring a proud man to his knees?”
“Oh angel.” Tony didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke. “Oh… oh I truly hope so.”
Professor Stark had been teaching herbology at the esteemed Hogwarts School Of Wizardry for many a year, seeing thousands upon thousands of young witches and wizards grow up into scholars of their generation. His love belonged to his craft, and his heart belonged to his students.
That is, until that little Hufflepuff that used to cover his ears during every game of quidditch takes on a position as the new Potions teacher, and he suddenly has a reason to spend time in the teachers lounge...
