Chapter Text
Even amidst the pollution of London, Oliver could sort of see the stars overhead when he kissed Percy. He savored every detail. Percy’s hand resting gently on Oliver’s waist. The mix of minty aftershave with a woodsy hair gel. The rough fabric of Percy’s tweed jacket from the Muggle secondhand shop. As if he had any talent for silent spells, Oliver repeated over and over in his mind, Invite me up, invite me up, invite me up . What the fuck is that in Latin? Invite me up.
“Thank you for dinner,” Percy mumbled against his lips. The hand on Oliver’s chest pushed a little harder to break off the kiss, rubbing gently over the fine silk shirt of his dress robes. He’d purchased the robes the same day Percy asked him on a first date four months ago. If Percy noticed he wore the same outfit for every fancy dinner date (and Percy certainly had), he was too polite to comment.
“A pleasure,” Oliver licked his lower lip. His eyes focused on Percy’s mouth, eager for another kiss. He didn’t have the will to care about the handful of people scurrying about. He’d hex them if he needed to. Oliver moved his leg in between Percy’s and shifted his boyfriend’s back against the building. Percy hummed, neither approvingly or disapprovingly, his eyes darting out to the street. He could already hear the protest forming.
Oliver , Percy would say, face turning a delicious pink, we can’t scandalize the neighbors .
For all the prissiness he put on down here on the pavement, nobody would believe what Percy was like behind closed doors. Oliver had the hickeys to prove it. Invite me up , Oliver whined in his head over and over again. He slipped his thumbs into Percy’s belt loops, dragging their thighs together even as the hand on Oliver’s chest kept their upper bodies apart.
If you aren’t going to invite me upstairs to ravish me, I might have to snog you mercilessly out in the open , he thought. It was working, based on the fact Percy’s hands hadn’t left Oliver’s shirt.
“Care for a…” Percy cleared his throat. That tantalizing blush crept from his cheeks out to his red ears, but a smile grew at the same time. “A nightcap? I believe I have rum in a cabinet.”
“Updated the shopping list for me, love?”
“Or one of my numerous lovers,” Percy remarked with an entirely too straight face. He shoved Oliver a little bit and took advantage of the space to grab his hand and lead him toward the door.
“Don’t tease ,” Oliver chuckled, catching up to Percy so his lips were a centimeter away from the back of his boyfriend’s neck. When Percy stopped short, Oliver’s face collided in an unromantic headbutt. “Shit, sorry–”
“Sorry,” Percy interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck and stepping to the side. “I need to grab my mail.”
Oliver watched impatiently as Percy fumbled with his mail key, wishing he’d risk the Secrecy Act and simply Alohomora his way in. Obviously, there was some kind of magic on the mailbox, as a veritable mountain started spilling out.
“Is this all today’s?” Oliver raised an eyebrow, moving to help and grab some of the envelopes that scattered on the carpet.
“I was traveling last week, and I’ve spent the last two nights in your flat, Ollie, I haven’t checked my mail for a while,” Percy sighed, grabbing a few boxes with his apartment number and scooping the rest of the mail.
“You say it like I kidnapped you. I wasn’t even there last night, babe, I was at my mum’s.”
“Yes, well, you live close to my office. It was convenient. You’re very convenient, Oliver. Like right now. With all this mail.” With a hopeful pout, Percy tilted his chin toward the last box.
“I’ll get it,” Oliver mumbled. He bent down slowly, hoping Percy took the opportunity to admire his ass. Convenient, he’d had the cheek to call him convenient.
Two flights of stairs later, Oliver had to wait once more as Percy tried to unlock his door. Exactly like a boggart, Percy Weasley had chosen a flat at the age of 18 (on the budget of a minor assistant) and stuck with it for nearly a decade. He was a Vice-Head of Transportation, he could certainly afford a wizarding flat. Maybe he had the Muggle-obsession of his father. Or maybe he was simply cheap and thrifty. At least he spent decent money on a bed frame; otherwise, he would have broken it. When Percy topped… Oliver’s cock quivered in anticipation.
Once laid out, the mail covered half the dining room table. Oliver stepped behind his boyfriend, burying his hands under the brown jacket and dark blue sweater vest. He clawed at the tucked-in white button down. Not a single thought went into the temperature of his hands. As his fingers brushed bare skin, Percy yelped and wrestled his way free.
“I need to look through the mail. I’ll be thinking about it all night otherwise,” Percy mumbled. His face was as red as a quaffle now, but the bashful act would fade soon enough. “Only a minute or two, please . I did say a night cap, didn’t I? Why don’t you go pour our drinks?”
“Yeah, but that’s only because you’re too bloody proper to say you wanted to fuck,” Oliver licked Percy’s ear.
“ Oliver, the drinks ,” Percy’s voice shook. “ Accio letter opener .”
“Alright, love, I’ll get the drinks,” Oliver laughed, dodging the hurtling bronze blade.
The air was filled with the sound of crinkling paper and sliced envelopes as Percy sorted his correspondence.
Whistling, Oliver made his way to the liquor cabinet. There were three bottles of his favorite rum clustered to the side. It would take months to get through it. Good thing Oliver would see that through. “What would you like, love?”
“Mum… advert… work… order… oh, yes, the letter to the editor…”
“Drinks, love?”
“Oh, whatever you’re having,” Percy said. His eyes were scanning a copy of the Transfiguration Bulletin . “They’re taking new spell entries again, I should submit.”
“You should. Could catch McGonagall’s attention when she eventually hires someone,” Oliver set down the rum on the coffee table and searched for club soda. “You, in tweed suits every day, a stone’s throw from Professor Wood’s Quidditch Pitch. Is that too forward of me to plan our retirement?”
“You’re not thinking of retiring, are you?” Percy glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “I thought you signed another five year contract with Puddlemere.”
“Just daydreaming. You should submit.” Clearly, Percy was only half listening if he didn’t pick up on the implication that after only four months, Oliver’s daydreams were to settle down in rural Scotland as if they were the only two people in the world. He was the very definition of smitten.
“I’ll think about it,” Percy said, tossing the paper into his growing mountain..
He couldn’t even clean the living room absentmindedly to fill time. It was spotless. With a small smile, he chose to mess it up a little. His dark dress robes draped across the back of the leather couch. His silk shirt was folded on the cushions – that’s what would get Percy off, a folded shirt. He tugged at his belt, dropping it next to the shirt. He considered stripping his boxers, but wasn’t less… more? Unzipping his slacks, Oliver let them drop enough to show his hips and no more.
With each minute, Oliver crept closer to Percy. The man was fully engrossed in the packages now, the dozens of letters sorted through. Bent over the table, he struggled against the thick layers of tape on a book delivery.
Oliver celebrated each milestone – past the couch. Past the houseplant that was suspiciously lucious despite Percy’s mediocre history with plant care. Past the kitchen door. Around the table.
“Weasley, the drinks are ready,” Oliver purred, massaging his lover’s shoulders. The maneuver went terribly wrong, as Percy leapt from surprise and slashed his hand with the letter opener.
“Bloody hell,” Percy said rather accurately. He stumbled away from the table, likely to stop any of his precious mail from getting stained. His wild eyes caught on Oliver. “Why the hell are you naked?”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver burst out. “Are you alright? Do you want me to get something?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Percy winced, tears in the corners of his blue eyes. “It’s my own fault. I’ve got dittany, I’ll be right back.”
Oliver shuffled to where Percy had been standing, neatening the pile of paper scraps and wiping clean the letter opener before finishing the box for his boyfriend. “Hey, Perce, I’m really sorry, I can head out if that’s what you want. I’m being a prat, aren’t I?”
“Darling, finish opening the mail and then… we’re having a nightcap , Oliver, I didn’t invite you up for… well, not only for… open the boxes, will you?” Percy’s voice faded as he disappeared into the bathroom. Oliver held his chin up in triumph.
Lifting the final box that he’d carried up, Oliver guessed it was another book based on the weight. But he noticed the FRAGILE sticker and stopped tossing it so casually between his hands. Breaking it wasn’t worth the risk. He needed to keep his boyfriend’s morale high. Three canceled practices in one week left him randier than he thought possible.
Letter opener in hand, he stabbed the box and sawed off the weakest side. At first glance, it looked like a massive ink bottle. Slipping it out of the box, he realized it was two potions tubes interlocked in… a heart shape. Half the heart was a black potion, but not something you’d dip a quill in. Golden flecks sparkled under the dim light, and the liquid swirled as Oliver tilted it side to side. The potion on the other half was silver, as though somebody melted a dozen sickles. The glass bottle – more accurately, the stand since it had a base and everything – had two letters carved in the center. An A and… a horseshoe? Oliver squinted at it.
“Oi, Perce? Not to snoop, but what kind of potion is this? I’ve never seen it,” Oliver tilted the container again, eyes drawn to the midnight black potion. The gold flecks danced for him. “Is it medicine?”
“Umm…” Oliver could hear his boyfriend rifling in the medicine cabinet. “It’s not dittany is it?”
“I’ll do an Episkey , it’s only a cut,” Oliver offered, grabbing his wand from his holster without taking his gaze away from Percy’s bottle.
Percy returned, a towel wrapped around his hand. Oliver finally put the glass down, tapping Percy’s palm and stealing a kiss on the cheek as the red mark disappeared. Now, Percy was staring at the bottle.
“I don’t know what it is,” Percy pursed his lips. “It must be a misdelivery. Was there an order form? A receipt?”
“Oh, there was a card,” Oliver said, feeling silly for not reading that. Shifting the papers in the box, he found the small card. As soon as he saw the shop that Percy had apparently ordered from, Oliver let out a high pitched giggle. He didn’t even know he could hit that note anymore.
“What is it?” Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Ollie?”
“To our shareholders,” Oliver read with a grin, laughter bubbling between each word. “From Circe’s Isle of Pleasure .”
Percy’s face fell as he clamored to grab the card. He wouldn’t even make eye contact as Oliver tucked the card behind his back and easily avoided Percy’s hands. He was going to need to move faster to outrace a professional Quidditch player.
“ Merlin , Perce, I know you like it a little rough, but you own shares in a sex shop ?”
“I don’t,” Percy mumbled, one hand over his face as he blindly reached for the card again. When he hit Oliver’s bare skin, he leapt back as if allergic. “Give me the card, give me the card –”
“Percival Weasley, I would never have guessed,” Oliver couldn’t stop laughing, dancing around with the card and avoiding Percy’s waving arm. The idea of Percy knowing what a sex shop was… that in itself was delicious. But that he preferred one enough to buy shares …
In mortified horror, Percy gave up his hunt for the card and collapsed in a wooden table chair. He was rather cute, rubbing his face furiously as if that wouldn’t make him even redder. “Bloody hell, you were not supposed to see this, I don’t– I’m not–” he stuttered before groaning into his hands.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Percy, I think it’s kind of hot you’re into that,” Oliver grinned villainously. “I’m assuming this is… for use in….” he tilted his head toward the bedroom.
“I don’t use them, I did not buy the shares, it’s– please just give me the card,” Percy grimaced, eyes clamped shut as he thrust out his hand into empty air. Oliver was tempted to guide the hand elsewhere, but dutifully dropped the card into Percy’s healed palm.
“Sorry,” Oliver whispered, sitting on the edge of the table and rubbing Percy’s back with a deep, consistent swirling pattern. “Maybe it's the wrong mail, Perce, you’re right.”
He felt victorious when Percy let out a little whine and tilted his head back.
“But,” Oliver teased, massaging Percy’s shoulders with both hands, “You are the only wizard in this building.”
Not opening his eyes, Percy sighed. “I’ll add it to the box with the rest. Godric’s sake, I wouldn’t have had you open it. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I hope you’re not saving it for somebody else,” Oliver said with a hint of playful jealousy. “Otherwise, I’m practicing my dueling spells.”
He dug his thumbs deeper into Percy’s shoulder blade, convinced his boyfriend’s back was more knot than muscle. Percy’s head snapped upright again as he groaned. “No, no , it’s very stupid and childish and–”
“I’ve been there before, I just hadn’t seen that one,” Oliver cut in. “I didn’t peg you as the type.”
“You’ve been ?”
“Not recently, but uh… they’ve got some good… toys,” Oliver shrugged. And he might have had one or two partners who did like a bit of potion in their play, but that was years ago. And Percy’s jealousy was not one of his better attributes. “The lube in my nightstand drawer, it’s from there. The flavored one that you don’t like.”
“You can order that sort of thing discreetly, you don’t have to go ,” Percy said matter-of-factly, as if no adult would ever want to visit a sex shop.
“We aren’t all prudes , Weasley,” Oliver said, kissing the back of his boyfriend’s head. “I’m sorry I teased you, I’ll drop it. But you could probably sell that bottle for twenty galleons at least.”
“It’s criminal to sell aphrodisiacs in a black market, those ingredients are regulated for a reason,” Percy scoffed. “And there’s no way that’s more than ten galleons.”
“I bought one half that size at Circe’s for thirty,” Oliver admitted, quickly adding before Percy could inquire when Oliver bought that potion. “Just look at it. I think there’s gold in the potion, actual gold.”
With a huff, Percy announced he had no intention of discussing it further and sharply stood up to hide the potion in whatever box he had mentioned earlier. Oliver grumbled, figuring he’d be politely asked to leave after their nightcap and he’d need to use the pumpkin-flavored lube and his right hand to satisfy his own urges. In his own bedroom. On the other end of town. He moped over to the living room, slipping his shirt back on unbuttoned.
“Now that’s settled and forgotten,” Percy cleared his throat, sitting on the couch and taking his drink. It did an ineffective job of hiding his face, though the blush was receding. “Wonderful job with the drinks.”
“It’s a rum and soda,” Oliver said. “Not very difficult.”
“You added lime,” Percy said. He went mute again, curled up at the opposite end of the couch.
“Tell me about the report again.”
“If you can remember the name of the report I’m working on, perhaps I will. I did talk about it a fair amount at dinner.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve got such gorgeous eyes,” Oliver attempted. Percy arched his eyebrows, hiding the start of a smirk. Not in the doghouse . “I think it was… on flying carpets and import quotas.”
Percy offered him a clink of his glass with a subtle nod. “Quite close, Mr. Wood.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor?” Oliver swirled his drink in hand.
“You don’t have to listen to Ministry reports to earn my affection.”
“I like hearing about them. Interesting stuff,” Oliver said. “Takes a lot of core strength to fly a broom, and carpets are better for transporting luggage. My dad used to have one… might be in the attic if you wanted to look at it.”
“It’s frankly racist that the quotas for import are so low… all the quotas are a century old and are based on the ‘intermixing’ of Muggle and magical societies in the countries of production, but they don’t have the same concept of Muggleness as we do, and it’s all very different and…” Percy began rambling about his legislation, his eagerness completely diminishing any memory of the potion incident. Oliver sipped, listening intently to avoid getting lost in his lover’s eyes. It was taking longer and longer for Percy to get self-conscious on these rants, which made Oliver overjoyed – it was almost like they were back in Hogwarts, before anyone had made Percy feel like shit for loving something in a way that other people didn’t understand.
But Percy eventually tapered off as he finished his drink and offered to get Oliver another. Oliver shrugged, resting the glass on the table. Then Percy licked his lip and rested a hand on Oliver’s thigh. “Did you need to get back early tonight, darling?”
“No, I’ve got to come into the Ministry tomorrow. Contract meeting. I’ll commute with you,” Oliver shrugged nonchalantly, leaning to wrap an arm around Percy’s shoulders. “Bloody mess of a department got our practices canceled all week. Coach is thinking one more day will do it.”
“Don’t get me started on why Marcus Flint should never have been permitted to do Ministry work, I don’t give a damn about his law degree,” Percy scowled, “he’s completely incapable of managing a department.”
“I love you, you know that?” Oliver said as he climbed into Percy’s lap and dove in for a kiss.
***
When they were kids, you could count every one of Percy’s ribs, but his morning runs added a defined layer of muscle and Oliver rested a hand against Percy’s pec, his fingers dragging across Percy’s nipple. He was rewarded with Percy’s hips grinding against his growing erection and they both moaned the other’s name and dove into a flurry of kissing. Percy’s hand went to work, dragging across Oliver’s now exposed cock – how had Percy managed that so quickly? – and his boyfriend began whispering quite aggressively into his ear.
“I love you,” Percy groaned, grinding against Oliver’s thigh and likely getting himself off. A benefit of dating Percy Weasley was having a very efficient lover. “You’re the only one who can get me hot like this, Oliver, I want you so badly. You’re magnificent ,” Percy moaned. “Tell me you need me, Oliver, tell me–”
“I need you,” Oliver gasped out, a fire building in his stomach as Percy’s hand moved cruelly slowly. As if he was a Legilemens, Percy dragged his thumb on the underside of Oliver’s cock. Oliver moaned, pressing his head back into the leather cushion and spreading his knees as far as they would go without forcing Percy into a split.
Still half-dressed, the heat was overwhelming for Oliver. Hell, he still had his shoes on as he rested one leg over the top of the sofa and the other on the floor. He thrust his hips into the air, stammering out Percy’s name as fireworks went off beside his closed eyes. “God, Percy, f-fuck me, I’m–”
He collapsed, breaths heavy as though he’d played a two hour match against the Harpies. Eyes fluttering, Oliver reached to help Percy finish off – he’d been a bit selfish thus far – but his boyfriend was already sitting up on the other cushion. His fist moved quickly up and down, and he whimpered with each motion.
“Lemme help,” Oliver mumbled, crawling over and trying to replace Percy’s hand. But he was a moment too late, as Percy came onto the carpet and sighed in relief. Oliver opted to kiss Percy instead, a lazy, languid kiss that reclined them both on the sofa in an embrace.
Oliver kicked off his shoes, and wriggled out of his trousers so he was only in his boxers. Percy slowly did the same, pausing between each movement to kiss Oliver on whichever body part was closest. He removed his watch and kissed Oliver’s shoulder. He took off his socks and kissed Oliver’s kneecap. He took off his pants and gave a hmph as Oliver playfully slapped his ass. “Come back,” Oliver whined, looping an arm around Percy’s waist and tugging him to lay down once more.
Post-sex cuddling was Oliver’s favorite part of being in a relationship – no awkward leaving or worrying about the clean-up. Only a ginger dork kissing his shoulder and murmuring about how Oliver should spend the night. “I’m not going anywhere,” Oliver promised, closing his eyes. It wouldn’t take too long to recharge, and maybe they’d make it to the bed this time for a proper fuck.
Though, when Oliver woke about an hour later, he resigned himself to shaking a snoring Percy awake. “Come on, my little bureaucrat, we need to get a good night’s sleep. Off to bed.”
“I was getting one,” Percy grumbled before cracking open an eye. “But I suppose you’re right.”
Oliver did his best to wrangle the praying-mantis-shaped man into his arms, but Percy managed to stand up and walk to the room, his hands tugging at Oliver so as to never be more than a foot away from him.