Title: Firewhisky: the New Veritaserum
Author: emiime
Characters: Percy/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Kinks chosen: Confessions, frottage
Word Count: 1379
Summary: There's a reason Percy doesn't drink.
Author's notes: Dedicated to my boring flist. ♥

And, yes. This was why he didn't drink. Percy remembered now. Okay. He would just shut his mouth and stop talking, or stop talking and shut his mouth, and stand, and say good night and that he had had a lovely time, and he would Floo home and he would collapse into bed and he would do all of that before he said or did anything stupid.

Except, oh. Oh. Harry was looking at him all dazed and stupid and his mouth was hanging open a bit and apparently, yes, Percy had already said or done something stupid. He looked down at his hands to discover that one of them was covering Harry's there on the sofa cushion, and oh, that was maybe why Harry was leaning over like that, because he wanted to be kissed, except, except no, ha, ha, no, Percy wasn't going to kiss Harry because that went against his not-doing-anything-stupid plan and surely Harry didn't want to be kissed by Percy.

Right?

---

The first thing Percy was aware of when he woke was a persistent throbbing in his head. This realisation was quickly followed by an awareness of three facts: that there was a cottony feeling in his mouth, that he was wearing most of his clothes (which were sticky in odd places), and that there was someone snoring next to him.

Which there shouldn't have been.

Especially since that person appeared to be Harry.

Buggering hell.

Percy squinted and shifted, searching for his spectacles. There was a little bedside table and he felt around on it, nearly upsetting a glass of water, before he found them and jammed them onto his face.

Huh. Harry's bedroom was remarkably neat. Percy hadn't expected that.

He shook his head. He didn't need to be pondering the state of Harry's bedroom, he needed to be getting out of Harry's bedroom before Harry awoke and there were awkward questions to ask and to be answered.

Harry snuffled and snorted in his sleep, and Percy rose and tiptoed towards the door. He had his hand on the knob when Harry spoke.

---

Okay, so he was kissing Harry, and Harry was kissing him back which was brilliant but which was probably a bad idea, only Percy's head was so fuzzy and so full of Firewhisky that he couldn't recall exactly why something so brilliant could possibly be a bad idea.

Only Harry couldn't possibly be queer, and yet here he was with his mouth open against Percy's and his tongue tangling with Percy's and his hands on Percy's shoulders sending tingles down Percy's spine, and if he wasn't queer then why on earth would he be doing all of that?

And, sod all, Percy wasn't queer, besides! He'd dated Penny Clearwater for two whole years and why was he thinking about Penny when Harry was pressing him back against the sofa cushions oh god oh god oh god.

And maybe it didn't matter who was queer and who wasn't because ohgod Harry was pressing himself to Percy and Percy was fairly sure that wasn't Harry's wand in his pocket and he didn't much mind, for he was also fairly sure that Harry could feel Percy's own, ahem, wand, and it felt good and maybe that was all that mattered.

Harry began kissing Percy's throat, then, and Percy closed his eyes and whimpered and officially gave up on thinking.

---

Percy couldn't possibly have heard Harry correctly. He paused with the doorknob half-turned.

"What was that?" He didn't turn to look at Harry and the rumpled bed.

"Don't leave," Harry said, a bit clearer this time, though his voice was still scratchy with sleep. "Stay. Will you?"

"Please—" Percy began, and Harry interrupted.

"Please?"

Percy turned and frowned. "I wasn't prompting you," he said.

"Oh. Will you stay anyway? How do you feel? I feel like shit, honestly," Harry said. He paused. "Might be better if you stay, though. Come on. I have Pepper-Up. I'll share."

Percy had never seen Harry without his glasses on before—well, maybe last night, but he didn't remember it—and he couldn't stop looking at those wide eyes, those dark smudgy lashes. And Harry's cheeks were awfully pink.

Bugger.

Percy shifted, the mess in his pants no more comfortable than it had been when he woke up. "I don't think I can stay," he said, mustering as much dignity as he possibly could standing there with foul breath, bare feet, and a sticky crotch.

"Oh." Harry sat up, and the sheet fell away from his chest, and Percy saw dark lovebites there, and he blanched. He was torn between running for the door and investigating. And probably investigating wasn't the best idea.

"Perce, don't you get it?" Harry asked then, and Percy finally took his hand from the doorknob. He seemed to be giving in a little.

Well.

"Get what?" Percy asked, shifting from foot to foot, trying hard not to count the lovebites on Harry's chest and on his neck, trying harder not to look at those pert pink little nipples.

Harry furrowed his brow and stood, crossing to the door. Percy was glad to see that Harry was at least wearing a pair of boxer shorts. He didn't know how he would have managed to keep up a conversation if Harry had been naked.

"I invite you over, I get you drunk, I kiss you—"

"I kissed you," Percy said, his mouth dry, "Um, I think. Did I?"

"Doesn't matter," said Harry, with a wave of his hand. "I get you into my bed, fucking finally, and after everything you said last night when we were—well—now you're leaving? Not going to let you do that, Perce. Did you know Firewhisky's like Veritaserum to you? You said all sorts of things."

"I knew that," said Percy, scowling, "But how did you know that?"

"Ron," said Harry with a shrug, and Percy groaned. The whole world was against him.

---

Harry was saying his name, and that was maybe the most erotic thing ever, and Percy thrust up and up against Harry's hard cock and Harry thrust down and down against Percy's, and finally one of them gasped bed bed bed and somehow they dragged each other in there and there were an awful lot of somehows but for once Percy wasn't concentrating on the details, just the bliss, just Harry, and it was importantthat it was Harry, but Percy wasn't sure why.

And Harry was undressing and Percy was helping him and Harry was saying things like want you and for so fucking long now and all Percy could do was whimper and moan and shut the boy up with kisses and press against him, still, and Percy didn't even mind that Harry was mostly naked and Percy himself was mostly dressed; he just knew it felt good good good and oh god there was Harry's throat under his mouth and Percy bit, hard, and Harry cried out and said again and Percy did, again and again, and down to Harry's chest and again and Harry's stubby fingernails dug into Percy's back, and it was too much, too much, and Harry kept rubbing against him and Percy kept rubbing against Harry, and his cock twitched and twitched inside his pants and something tightened inside him, and Percy came and came and came and he didn't even care about his new trousers.

Much.

---

"So this was all—you planned all this?" Harry had drawn closer, still clad (maddeningly) only in his pants, and Percy could have sworn he was still standing right up against the door, only somehow he'd moved closer to Harry.

Harry put a hand on Percy's arm. "Do you mind?"

"Yes," said Percy. "I mean. No. I don't know."

"I liked kissing you."

Percy nodded and wet his lips. "I liked—" He paused. "I need a shower."

Harry cocked his head. "It just so happens I've got a shower."

"I need to think." His voice rose a little, and Harry's grip tightened on his arm.

"No," Harry said, "For once in your life, Percy Weasley, you definitely do not need to think."

And Harry kissed him again.

And Percy really didn't mind.

At all.