InsaneJournal

Theology of the Body Made Simple (Percy/Anthony, NC-17)
Title: Theology of the Body Made Simple
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Anthony Goldstein
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2060
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.
Summary: On a trip to Israel, Weasley and Goldstein discover ancient magic and entirely new feelings.
Notes: I caught some crap for this story when it was originally posted. If you have a problem with it, I'd love to discuss it with you. Please don't talk about it behind my back. This was originally posted 7/9/07 on LJ.



Israel was hot.

Of course it was, but Percy hadn't expected it to be quite so hot. Percy hated the heat. It made him sweaty and crabby and freckly and though he'd originally been looking forward to the trip, he was glad, now, that he and his companion would only be stuck for a few days in this barren land.

Percy stood, arms folded, on the edge of a low precipice, gazing down at the halted archaeological dig, while Goldstein finished scribbling some notes on ruled yellow paper. Percy tapped his foot and began to drum his fingers against his arm.

"It's hot," he announced, as if this was a new piece of information for Goldstein.

The dark-haired boy turned and blinked at Percy, shoving his specs up on his nose. "Sorry, what?"

Percy scowled, knowing it was only the heat making him so grumpy—he was as interested in the finds as anyone else—and began to walk away from Goldstein.

"I'm going back to the hotel. I'm going to have something to eat and something cold to drink. You can stay out here and bake if you like. I'll come back in the afternoon, when it's cooler."

Percy stalked away, raising a hand to the Assistant to the Israeli Minister for Magic as he went, then he ducked behind a tent, and Disapparated.

***

Goldstein caught up with him in the hotel bar, where Percy was drinking whisky and eating kibbe and feeling a whole lot better.

"How can you eat that shit?" Goldstein asked without preamble, plopping himself down in the other chair at Percy's table for two.

Percy paused over a bite of kibbe, then raised an eyebrow and popped it in his mouth. It was delicious.

"Honestly, it's really good," he said, once he'd swallowed. "You should try it."

Goldstein made a face and ordered a sandwich and a beer.

"So what do you think?" Percy asked. "I'd ask to see your notes but I never have been able to decipher what you call handwriting and I probably never will."

Goldstein took a long draw from his beer and smiled. "It's magical, all right," he said, leaning forward, his voice low. "From what I could tell—I couldn't really get out my wand at all, but couldn't you feel the magic?"

Percy shook his head. He hadn't felt it at all from where he'd stayed on the ridge. Goldstein, though, had crawled down into the excavation. Presumably the ancient magic was stronger closer to the source.

"I wonder if we could take over the excavation," Goldstein mused, sitting back in his chair, and Percy choked on his drink.

"Oh, not us, not you and me," Goldstein said, "But, you know, our Ministry. Our—our people. Scrimgeour could set something up, don't you think? Oh, hey, and don't you have a brother who does this sort of thing?"

Percy leaned forward a bit. "Bill's a curse-breaker," he murmured, low enough that the Muggles around them couldn't hear, "Not an archaeologist. And you and I work for the Ministry—at desk jobs, might I remind you. We're hardly in a position to champion a cause like this."

Goldstein shrugged. "We'll see. Meanwhile I think we've got enough information to get us started, don't you? Think we could make one more trip out there, then leave in the morning?"

Percy finished his kibbe, swiping his pita across the plate. "That sounds good," he said, pushing a few sweat-stuck stray hairs off his face, "The sooner we get back to clammy old England, the better."

***

"So why did Scrimgeour send you? Not that—well, you've done a fine job, it's just that the last time Muggles uncovered something like this, he sent an Obliviator with me. I suppose as a precautionary measure, in case the Muggles…disturbed anything."

"Yeah," said Goldstein, coming out of the bathroom in his pyjamas, towelling his hair dry, "I guess because I'm Jewish. The old man's just insensitive enough to think that that makes a difference."

Percy snorted. "He would think that, wouldn't he?" Percy had plenty of respect for his boss, but after these many years he was also attuned to Scrimgeour's many faults and prejudices.

Goldstein dropped his towel on the floor, at which Percy gave him a pointed look that went unheeded, then got into bed, putting his glasses on the bedside table and turning off the lights with a flick of his wand. "'Night."

Percy snapped on the reading lamp above his own bed. "I'm going to read for a while, if you don't mind."

"That's fine," replied Goldstein, and he rustled around in the sheets for a while before stilling.

Percy made it through all of three pages in his book before Goldstein sat half-up in bed.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, just can't sleep. It's a bit warm."

"That it is."

Goldstein sat against the headboard and drew his pyjama-covered knees to his chest. Percy smiled a little to himself—he had forgot how young the other man was, about Ron's age, he was pretty sure.

"Percy," Goldstein said, staring at the opposite wall, "Tell me something?"

"What is it?" Percy only vaguely noticed Goldstein's use of his first name, and didn't look up from his book; he really wanted to finish the chapter on magic carpets before he turned in for the night.

"What did you think of the Israeli Minister's assistant?"

Percy furrowed his brow and looked over at Goldstein. "Nice enough man. Why?"

Goldstein paused. "Er. You didn't think he was…" He trailed off.

"Was what?"

"Um. Attractive?"

Percy choked a bit on nothing. Certainly the man had been attractive—Percy had a bit of a thing for dark-haired men in spectacles—but why on earth had Goldstein thought to ask?

"Did, er—did you?" If Goldstein could ask inappropriate questions, then so could Percy.

"I—" Goldstein coloured. "Yes?"

"You—okay." Percy closed his book. Now this was interesting. He'd be lying if he said he'd never been attracted to Goldstein—after all, there was that thing about dark-haired men in spectacles—but this was entirely new information. Percy turned and sat on the edge of his bed, facing Goldstein. "So, then, you're, er—"

"I'm gay," Goldstein said in a rush, "Really, really gay."

Percy nodded, clutching the book in his lap. "I see."

Goldstein turned his head to look at Percy. "Do you? I mean—you do? I mean—that is—because, if you—"

Percy let out a sharp breath. "Yes, I—I do. I—am." Percy's hands would have been shaking if he hadn't been gripping the book so tightly, and his heart threatened to explode in his chest.

"But this is great!" Goldstein exclaimed, standing. "I mean, not that you necessarily—" He cut himself off and looked around the room. "Er, if I've been reading this all wrong, I'm really sorry, and it's really going to be awkward being stuck in this room all night together if I am wrong, but I just thought—I've seen you looking—I've heard things—"

And without further explanation, he pushed Percy back across the bed and kissed him.

Percy froze for a moment and began to attempt to push Goldstein away, but then he felt the younger man's erection pressing against him through two sets of pyjamas, and Percy's own cock began to harden.

Goldstein tore his mouth away then, gasping, his face only a couple of inches from Percy's, his hair falling in his eyes, his spectacles smudged.

"It's all right?" he panted, and though it honestly was, surprisingly, Percy couldn't find the words to say it.

Goldstein seemed to wilt a little.

"Percy? Oh, god, I'm sorry, I—"

But Percy swallowed the rest of Goldstein's sentence with a fierce kiss, pressing his cotton-clad erection against Goldstein's own. God, it had been a while, and Percy couldn't help it, he actually whined when Goldstein ventured kisses down Percy's neck and throat.

"Gold—" Percy began, then corrected himself—it was hardly appropriate to call a man who was currently unbuttoning your pyjama top whilst simultaneously rutting against you by his surname.

"Anthony," Percy gasped, and Anthony opened Percy's undone pyjama top and licked around Percy's nipples, then down, down, and Percy strained upwards, sucking in air and whimpering.

And though they were both clad only in thin pyjamas in the warm night air, there was too much clothing involved, and Percy fumbled with Anthony's pyjama top and wriggled out of his own pyjama bottoms and pants even as Anthony did the same.

When they were naked together, they both paused. This was normally Percy's time to be embarrassed; he was used to being thinner and paler and less defined than his companion and being therefore ashamed of his body, but Anthony was just as thin and just as pale and he trembled on top of Percy.

"It's all right?" Anthony asked once again, his hands clutching at the bare skin of Percy's shoulder and waist.

Percy closed his eyes and moved against Anthony so their cocks rubbed together.

"It's definitely all right," he replied, and when they kissed again, their glasses clicked together, but neither man could be bothered to pause to take them off.

Anthony began kissing down Percy's chest again, and this time he didn't stop but continued to Percy's insistent erection. Percy tipped his head back, his eyes closed, and waited, feeling Anthony's hot breath on his cock.

"You've got foreskin," came Anthony's voice, then, and Percy opened his eyes, blinked, sat up.

"Well, of course I have."

Anthony was lying between Percy's spread legs, peering at his cock.

"I've never seen that before," Anthony confessed, "I've only done—er, this, only once, and he was, um—he was Jewish, too."

"…Oh." It wasn't the cleverest remark Percy could have come up with, but he was still adjusting to the abrupt change of mood.

"What do I do with it?"

Percy laughed, then, gently, and bent forward, taking his erection in hand, retracting the foreskin the rest of the way. He'd always hated that it didn't retract completely on its own—it had on the other penises he'd seen, belonging to the other men he'd been with—but Anthony didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed fascinated by it, sprawling between Percy's legs and taking Percy's cock in his hand, licking the tip experimentally, then running his tongue along the ridged band.

"Oh, god…" Percy leaned back on his hands and shut his eyes as Anthony sucked him, apparently having got over the novelty of the Foreskin Thing, and when Percy came, he came too quickly, apologising as he did, apologising even more as Anthony choked and spit and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It's okay—I'm okay—" Anthony managed, as Percy thumped him on the back.

"You're sure?" Percy was in mild panic mode. God, he'd screwed up their relationship—was this a relationship now?—in its first ten minutes. Brilliant.

…Except that Anthony was smiling at him, and Anthony was kissing him, and Percy recoiled only a bit at the taste of his own come on Anthony's tongue before kissing him back, trailing a hand down to Anthony's erection, and stroking it until Anthony came, still clinging to Percy, babbling against his neck.

They collapsed, satiated, exhausted from heat and from emotion, on Percy's bed, and neither spoke until their breathing slowed, and when they did speak it was only to murmur to each other before dropping off to sleep, sentences half-finished, their entangled bodies sticky with sweat and spit and come.

And in the morning they'd laugh a little to deflect embarassment when they woke up stuck together, and there would be an awkward sort of dance around each other as they showered and dressed and finally met in the middle of the room and kissed, once, and murmured some more, and there would be excavations to visit and Muggles to avoid and notes to compile and Portkeys to catch, and after that there would be assessments to be made and relationships to define and kisses to long for and bodies to remember, but none of that mattered in the moment, for there was bliss in the moment, and everyone is innocent when he sleeps.