"If you could look him in the face, you'd know," Avery replies coarsely in his place. "You can't just stop now." He moves a little closer to Albus and Scorpius. "Don't be so insecure." A little more. When the next blow comes down, washing him in a blinding wave of heat, Avery's upper body disappears from his field of vision, but Scorpius takes what he can get, and rests his heated forehead on his lap, inhaling the oddly boyish scent, the throb of his own pulse mixing with that of Avery's erection beneath the denim of his trousers.