Entry tags:

character: oliver, character: percy, character: remus, genre: slash, kink: chan, kink: threesome, pairing: remus/percy/oliver, rating: nc-17

Please, Sir (Remus/Percy/Oliver, NC-17)
Title: Please, Sir
Pairing: Remus/Percy/Oliver
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3542
Warnings: Percy and Oliver are seventeen.
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: Remus Lupin enjoys the attentions of the Quidditch Captain and the Head Boy.
Notes: Immeasurable amounts of thanks to freckles42 for helping me to find direction and for keeping me sane. Written for pervy_werewolf's Howl-O-Ween challenge. My prompt was: At first cock-crow the ghosts must go/Back to their quiet graves below.



"It will last for one night," the old witch had promised Remus, "from sundown to sunup. You can lie with any woman you wish—only eight sickles, hey?"

Remus regarded the woman, clad in robes shabbier than his own under an equally shabby shawl in the darkening alley, pushing a little blue bottle at him. He had only meant to take a quick detour down Knockturn to do a favour for Dumbledore while he was in London, but he'd been delayed and evening had set in and it was beginning to snow.

The witch looked somewhat less sinister than the other denizens of the Alley—pathetic, really, casting her eyes about as if she were afraid she would be chased away at any moment. The potion was probably either full of Dark ingredients or completely useless, a concoction of rainwater and vegetable dyes, but Remus sighed and said "All right" and dug in his pocket for the coins he couldn't really spare.

The old witch stowed Remus's money beneath her robes and thrust the bottle at him again, losing interest in him as soon as her sale was completed.

Remus pocketed the potion and trudged through the accumulating snow, his purchases safe beneath his cloak, towards the Portkey station and whatever battered object would take him back to the gates of Hogwarts.

***

The wind whipped around the castle, moaning, mourning, and Remus couldn't concentrate on marking essays anymore. He set his quill in its stand and stood, stretching. He could do the essays tomorrow.

Remus lit a fire in the grate, then fumbled in the pocket of his cloak for the paperback book he'd picked up in Diagon that afternoon, a second-hand copy of a Muggle classic about a German scholar in Venice, one he'd been meaning to read for quite some time. Blustery nights like this one were perfect, Remus had always thought, for curling up with a book until he fell asleep on his sofa.

Remus's hand closed on the book, but his fingertips brushed against something small and hard and cold. He grasped it, instead, and withdrew it—it was the potion the ragged old witch had sold him earlier. Remus mused on the bottle for a moment, then gave it a little toss in the air and caught it again as if weighing its contents.

"Don't you dare," he chastised himself out loud, and he set the bottle on the end table and fumbled for his book again.

He had read nearly five pages of his book when the wind gave a particularly loud screech, and Remus looked up, distracted. He thought he might make a cup of tea, but his eyes alit on the potion bottle once more, and he reached for it.

"I should have Severus take a look at this," he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the surface of the bottle, then he shook his head and chuckled a bit. A silly notion. If he asked Severus to check the potion, he'd have to explain what it was supposed to be…and that wasn't exactly a conversation Remus could see himself having.

The sun had long set, and Remus found the old witch's words coming back to him. From sundown to sunup, you can lie with any woman you wish…

Remus smiled to himself. There wasn't a woman alive he wanted to take to bed. Twelve or thirteen years ago, he might've entertained the notion of choosing Sirius as the subject of his fantasy, but those days were over now, and things were very different. Who would he even choose, if he did decide to take the potion? There were a few students who—but no, no, Remus didn't need that on his conscience.

But then he remembered the note he'd intercepted from Oliver Wood to Percy Weasley on Friday afternoon. It had contained phrases Remus didn't think Percy Weasley knew—or would have acknowledged that he knew. And all the colour had drained from Percy's face when Remus had snapped up the note as Oliver pushed it across the desk. Oh, Percy knew what was in that note, all right, Remus was certain of that.

Remus crossed to the desk and opened the top drawer. The note was there, folded twice over and written in Oliver's untidy scrawl, teenaged emotions masked by bravado.

Perce,

That was seriously brilliant, what we managed last night. What about meeting up again tonight after Quidditch practise? Don't worry, I'll shower first. Or maybe you can meet me in the showers, there's a thought! Just kidding, I know you wouldn't want to do that. I'll meet you in the common room, okay?

Remus sank onto the sofa, Oliver's note in his hand, trying hard to ignore the boy's abuse of commas and just focus on the implications of his words. The broad-shouldered Gryffindor Keeper and the pale, willowy Head Boy—were together. It was brilliant—no one would ever have suspected them.

And the thought of the two of them naked together under the water in the Gryffindor locker room, kissing and touching and god only knew what else—Remus shivered a bit and pressed his hand to his crotch, then glanced at the little bottle on his table.

"Bugger," he said, and he reached for it, downing its contents in one go.

***

Remus wasn't certain what had awakened him, but he suddenly found himself blinking open his eyes and trying to remember falling asleep. He was on the sofa, one leg hanging over the edge. His mouth was as dry as if he'd been eating sand. He held something small and hard in his hand, and he brought the hand up to see what it was.

Oh. Right. That potion bottle.

"Sleeping draught, that's all it was," groaned Remus, and as he sat up and stretched, he realised what had awakened him. There was water running somewhere—and he could hear voices.

Remus shook his head to clear it, but the voices and the sound of the running water continued. He crossed to the bathroom door—it opened at a touch. The room was filled with steam, but Remus could just make out two figures through the glass shower door.

As he approached the shower, disbelieving, one of the figures spoke.

"Here's Professor Lupin," came the unmistakable Scottish burr of Oliver Wood. The shower door opened and there stood Oliver, naked and dripping, his arms folded across his chest, a merry smile dancing across his face.

"Hello, Professor," came a second voice, and Percy Weasley stepped out of the steam behind Oliver, curling a hand around Oliver's bicep. "Won't you come in, please?"

"Boys—" Remus began, but both of his students shook their heads and smiled, puppyish and eager.

"It's all right, Professor," said Percy, "Everything's all right." And Remus didn't know exactly how, but yes, everything did seem somehow all right.

"We want you," added Oliver, and Percy nodded.

"Do you want us, sir?"

Remus found himself nodding before he could even begin to process Percy's question.

"Good, then it's settled," said Oliver, and he stepped out of the shower and began to unbutton Remus's robes while Percy watched from just inside the shower door. Oliver made swift work of most of Remus's clothing, then stepped back, admiring.

Remus would have expected to feel ashamed of his body in a situation like this, but instead he found himself quite enjoying being appraised by two of his students. He ran his hands down his chest, then hooked his thumbs just under the band of his pants, the only article of clothing Oliver had not taken off.

"Well, what do you think, boys?" Remus asked, "Do you still want your old professor?"

"Oh, yes," breathed Percy, and he, too, stepped out of the shower, trailing wet fingers along Remus's shoulder. "Very much."

Remus smiled at the boy and pushed his pants down, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. His erection sprang up, slapping against his stomach, and both boys stared.

"Shower's still running, boys," he admonished, "We don't want to waste water, now." He put a hand on Percy's shoulder and a hand on Oliver's and turned them around, guiding them back into the shower, then closed the door behind the three of them.

"Now," Remus said, clasping his hands together, "Since you two got started without me, why don't you see if you can get me caught up?" Percy immediately dropped to his knees under the shower spray and took Remus's cock in his hand, then wrapped his lips around the head of it, suckling.

"Oh, good boy," Remus moaned as Percy took more of his erection in his mouth. He reached down to run his fingers through the bright hair that turned dark auburn when wet, and Percy made a little mmph noise around Remus's cock and sucked a little harder.

"And what about you, Mr Wood?" Remus asked, turning to the dark-haired boy who was watching the two of them with interest, "Are you as talented as Mr Weasley?"

"You'd have to ask Percy," said Oliver, a wicked smile crossing his face, "But I like to think I'm good at what I do." He stepped forward, and Remus put an arm around the boy's waist, drawing him closer and kissing him hard.

Oliver pressed himself to Remus, rubbing his erection on Remus's hip, and Remus moaned a little into the kiss, pushing forward harder into Percy's mouth. Percy was knocked a little off-balance, and he grabbed Remus's hips to steady himself, his mouth never leaving Remus's cock. Remus tightened his fingers in Percy's hair, and Percy made a greedy little noise and gripped Remus's hips even harder, his fingernails no doubt leaving half-moon imprints on Remus's skin.

The water kept pouring down all around the three of them as Remus smoothed his free hand down Oliver's chest to the tangle of curls that surrounded the boy's erection. Oliver gasped a little when Remus took his cock in hand, peeling back his foreskin, and Oliver looked suddenly much younger, there in the steam and spray with his eyes wide and his pink lips parted just so.

Remus grinned at the boy and swiped his thumb over the tip of Oliver's cock, causing the boy to shiver and close his eyes, a slow smile spreading over his face.

"Do you like that, Mr Wood?"

"Oh, yes…"

"Yes, sir," Remus corrected, though he usually could have cared less what his students called him, and Oliver's smile grew wider.

"Yes, sir," Oliver replied, and he thrust up into Remus's hand, a little unsteady on his feet from all the stimulation.

"Why don't you tell me, Mr Wood," coaxed Remus, "What exactly it is that you and Mr Weasley have been doing with each other? The things you alluded to in your note?"

"I, um—" said Oliver, and he glanced down at Percy, who gazed up at the two of them through his water-flecked glasses, his mouth full of his professor's cock, and nodded.

"Okay," said Oliver, and Remus murmured Good boy and began wanking Oliver in earnest. Oliver grasped Remus's shoulder to help keep himself upright.

"We—just fool around a bit, you know," Oliver began, thrusting his cock forward into Remus's hand. "We just, you know, suck each other, and give handjobs, and…things."

"What things?" Remus asked, and at that, Percy took his mouth from Remus's cock, looking up.

"Oliver wants to fuck me," he said in that prim little voice of his, "And I want to do it to him. We can't decide. So we haven't done that. But we've done everything else. We know some spells. I looked them up."

Remus smiled down at Percy, then sank to his knees to face the boy, and he pulled Oliver down with him. Water pooled around their knees, and Remus leaned forward and kissed Percy deeply, tasting himself on the boy's tongue, slipping a hand behind his neck to steady him.

"There's plenty of time for that," he assured Percy, and Percy threw a pointed look Oliver's way. Remus chuckled a little, then pulled back.

"I think I would like to see the two of you kiss now," he said, and he settled back against the shower wall, his thighs spread wide, and began touching himself, circling his cock with the fingers of one hand and stroking feather-light touches across his balls with the other.

Percy nodded and moved forward on his knees. He slicked Oliver's dripping fringe from his forehead and pressed their mouths and their bodies together. Remus smiled.

"Very good," he moaned, "Very nice, boys. Do keep going."

Percy and Oliver reached for each other's cocks simultaneously, their hands bumping together on the way down, and Oliver laughed a little into their kiss. They wanked each other with a genuine ease, if not expertise—they'd clearly done this a time or two. Remus couldn't decide which spectacle he was enjoying the most—the sloppy kisses the boys were sharing, Percy's elegant fingers around Oliver's cock, thick and solid like the rest of him, or Oliver's frantic fingers on Percy's erection, pink and red and pale.

"Oh, boys," Remus moaned, hopelessly lost, sucking on his index finger. He brought the finger down to his arsehole and worked just the very tip of it inside, never taking his gaze from the display before him.

Oliver looked over at him, just then, and nudged Percy in the ribs. Percy pushed his glasses up onto his head and squinted.

"It's no use," he declared, "I can't see anything either way."

"Then maybe," Remus said, righting himself, "Maybe you should just feel, instead." He moved behind Percy and took the boy's slim frame into his arms. "On your hands and knees," he murmured in Percy's ear, and Percy shivered in the embrace and did as his professor commanded, looking back over his shoulder. Remus gave Percy a reassuring smile though he knew the boy probably couldn't see it.

"I think you're going to like this," Remus announced, and he picked up his wand (though he didn't remember bringing it into the shower with him) and pressed it to Percy's arsehole. The boy clenched instinctively, and Remus ran a hand down his thigh.

"Relax," Remus coaxed, and Percy did, the tiniest bit. Remus pressed a gentle kiss just to the left of the boy's virgin arsehole, and Percy relaxed a bit more.

Remus took advantage of the boy's relaxation and pressed his wand forward, just enough so that the tip was buried inside Percy. The boy threw his head back, biting his lip, and Oliver moved to face him, to press reassuring kisses to his mouth,

"Lots of blokes do it, right, Perce? And he's our professor…I know he knows what he's doing." Oliver glanced over Percy's shoulder at Remus as if to verify his claim. Remus nodded and muttered a few simple spells, relaxing and stretching and slicking the boy.

"I've done this a fair few times," Remus conceded, though he knew full well he should truthfully have put the emphasis on the word few. But he knew more than the boys did, which was what really mattered. He positioned himself at Percy's entrance and gripped the boy's slim hips.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Remus declared, and with no further warning, he thrust forward, sheathing himself in Percy Weasley, Head Boy.

Remus didn't move for a moment, but only revelled in the tight heat of the boy's arse, the simultaneous clenching and pushing, and the little whimpering noises Percy was making. He slid a hand up Percy's back, sluicing the water from it, and hoped he was being reassuring enough.

"I'm going to move now," Remus announced, and Oliver looked down at Percy, then at Remus.

"All right," Oliver said, speaking for Percy, and Remus didn't stop to ponder the oddity of Oliver's assent, just pulled out of Percy as the boy let out a moan, then thrust back in to Oliver's apparent delight. A grin spread over Oliver's face, and he cupped Percy's face in one hand.

"He'd like you to keep going, professor," Oliver said then, and Remus didn't need any more encouragement; he was already fucking the boy and watching Percy's glasses slip from his head onto the floor where no one took heed of them. Remus concentrated on fucking Percy, barely taking in Oliver's wide grin, Percy's shocked moans when Remus's cock brushed against his prostate.

"Please, sir—" gasped Percy, and Remus gave a great thrust forward at that.

"Please, sir," repeated Oliver then, combing his fingers through Percy's wet hair, "He loves it, Professor."

Percy nodded and gasped, and Oliver smiled, and Remus bit his lip and groaned out his release.

As he came inside Percy, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on Percy's wet and freckled back, Remus wondered vaguely if the boys had enjoyed themselves, if they had come, if it had all been right for them, if—

***

Remus awoke with his pants full of come and his hand clutching a tiny blue bottle.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and Remus eased a hand across his weary eyes. He listened for a moment—his rooms were silent.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

***

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway to Remus's classroom, and Remus tried hard to make it seem as if he hadn't noticed the boy there, and he continued marking essays.

Percy coughed discreetly and took a step forward. Remus still ignored him.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

Remus sighed a little and looked up.

"Mr Weasley. What can I do for you?"

Percy stepped forward, walking across the darkened, empty classroom, worrying the sleeve of his robes between his fingers. "I came to see you yesterday, but you weren't here."

"No. I was in London. What was it you needed?"

Percy bit his lower lip. "I just wanted to apologise. For that note. Oliver, um, told me what he put in it, and I know it probably sounds really bad, but it's not what you think, Professor. But—right, I'm sorry we were passing notes in class—I wasn't passing notes, it was just the one note, really. But I just—" Percy paused and drew a breath.

"You just want to make certain I'm not going to tell anyone," Remus said almost lazily, sitting back a bit.

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it again, seeming to consider Remus's words. "I—yes," he said then. "Please." Remus didn't say anything for a moment, and Percy's voice turned almost desperate.

"Please, sir."

Remus nearly choked at the phrasing of Percy's request, remembering the last time he had heard those words. He moved his chair forward and pressed his hand against his cock. He could not be getting hard like this, not in front of one of his students. Remus closed his eyes tightly for a moment, willing his erection away.

When he opened his eyes, Percy was still standing there, his brow creased, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. Remus opened his desk drawer and extracted the note, holding it out to Percy between two fingers, not looking at the boy.

"Sir?"

"Take it," Remus said, his voice rusty and cracking. The parchment twitched and was gone, and Remus didn't look to see what Percy did with it.

"I—thank you—"

Remus waved his hand dismissively. "Don't—" he began, then looked up, locking eyes with Percy. "You and Mr Wood had better not pass notes in my classroom again. Not ever. Is that understood?"

Percy nodded. "Yes. Yes, sir."

Remus shivered.

"Go on," he said, and Percy paused for a moment as if he wanted to ask a question, but then turned and fled the room.

"Buggering fuck," muttered Remus, and he reached into his pants before the door had even closed behind Percy. His cock was half-hard, despite his mental attempts to discourage his erection, and he whimpered just a little as he stroked himself to full hardness.

"Boys," he whispered to himself as he pumped his cock, slicking his precome over the head and along the shaft, "Dammit."

His breath came in shudders as he wanked himself, and he came quickly, spattering the underside of his desk with semen, gasping and slumping down over the essays he'd been marking.

After a moment, Remus lifted his head from the desk and his hand from his cock, reaching for his wand to clean himself. He'd only just finished and was still breathing hard when his classroom door opened and a wide-shouldered figure stood blocking the light from the hallway.

Oh, for—

"Mr Wood," said Remus, coughing a little, "What can I do for you this afternoon?"

Oliver stepped into the classroom, smiling nervously, and when he spoke it seemed as though he hadn't expected his words to come tumbling out like they did.

"Please—please don't tell anyone about that note. Please, sir—"