|HP Valensmut Mod (hpvs_mod) wrote in hpvalensmut,|
@ 2009-02-13 17:49:00
|Entry tags:||2009, fic, percy/oliver|
Gift for rosivan: Stirring Rods (Percy/Oliver)
Title: Stirring Rods
Warnings: um, none
Summary: (including pairing) Percy/Oliver Percy screws up and tries to make things right.
Disclaimers: If I owned them I would have quit my day job!
Notes: Happy Valensmut, rosivan! Hope you enjoy! Thanks to our lovely mod for the beta and the fest!!
Percy stared at the papers scattered across his desk. It had been one hell of a day. A shipment of stirring rods had actually turned out to be an illegal import of wands. The recipients of the shipment were now in custody, with an international team of Aurors after the perpetrators of the scheme. This meant even more paperwork. It was now well after five o'clock; Percy didn't even need to look at the clock to know that. The levels of noise and magic had decreased from their normal workday intensity and the silence blanketed him. It was soothing in strange way. He had things that needed to be finished today, and the unexpected silence would allow it.
At midnight the paper clips exploded and Percy looked up startled. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Fuck! He was so late. Oliver was to be home tonight after a week away. They never planned dinner after his return because Percy failed to leave the Ministry until eight o'clock every night, and when he did return home they, most definitely, had other things to do. Percy stuffed his parchments into his desk and doused the lights.
He ran headlong thorough the corridors to the Floo gallery, he was home in a moment. The lights were out in the flat except for a soft glow coming from the bedroom. Perhaps Oliver was still awake. Percy hurried toward the welcoming warmth. He gasped as he turned the corner.
Oliver lay on the bed, nude bathed in candlelight. His skin glistened with a sheen of oil from the hollow above his collarbone, across his chest and down his belly to his cock which was fully erect, the tip flushing darkly.
"Oliver." Percy breathed.
Oliver glanced up at the sound. "Stay there!" He commanded.
"You didn't care enough about me or even this," he emphasized his cock with his hand. "To come home before now, you may not come any closer, but you may watch from there if you wish."
Percy opened his mouth. Oliver held up his hand. "If you stay I will require you to be quiet."
Percy swallowed his Adam's apple bobbed as he nodded.
Oliver resumed stroking his cock, watching Percy through half-closed eyes. His other hand toyed with one nipple and then slid down the deep groove that ran between his pectorals to his navel. He repeated the motion again and again. Percy shifted his shoulder against the doorframe as his trousers began to tent uncomfortably.
A barely audible whisper brought the lube from the night table to Oliver's hand. His hands were quite thoroughly coated with it when he returned to pulling his cock. Percy gasped as Oliver reached to fondle his balls, rolling and squeezing them gently between his fingers.
"Do you like this, Percy?"
Oliver canted his hips up displaying himself more fully as he continued stroking and fondling himself rocking into his closed fist. Percy whinged and pressed his palm, roughly against his straining cock.
"Tsk. None of that now." Oliver admonished as he took a quick shallow breath as his cock visibly throbbed. "You aren't interested in this. You're only interested in cauldron bottoms and stirring rods." Oliver pulled his hand from his balls and pointed toward his cock. "This is no stirring rod!"
"Oliver, please." Percy implored.
A whispered 'fuck' hung in the air as Oliver tugged his engorged prick roughly.
Percy moaned. Oliver's breath hitched and he worked his hands faster.
Oliver didn't want him to talk, but the whinging and moaning were having an interesting effect. Without another thought, Percy shoved his hand into his pants to grasp his throbbing cock as he let loose a loud, guttural groan. He watched as Oliver frantically tugged on his balls pulling them downward. It was to no avail, however, Oliver cried out and he came sending long white ropes across his chin, and chest. The final few spurts pooled on his belly.
Percy bit his lip as he gripped the doorframe while his cock exploded, dousing his pants and trousers with his own creamy essence. He swallowed convulsively, his knees threatened to give way and he clung to the doorframe for dear life. Oliver had busied himself with putting away his lube and casting cleansing spells on himself and the bed. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.
"Come to bed, Percy." Oliver's voice sounded weary and a bit sad.
"Don't say anything." Oliver turned over to face away from the door.
Percy stood, immobile. Finally, the sluggish drip of the cooling semen down his leg moved him to action. He cleaned himself up, undressed and slipped into bed.
When Percy left for the Ministry in the morning, he knew that Oliver was feigning sleep, but he didn't let on. Instead of clearing his desk of all the paperwork, Percy spent the day gathering wool and wondering if he could make things right.
Dinner that night was a cool affair with stilted questions and monosyllabic answers. Oliver had a game tomorrow and would be leaving for Ireland on Sunday. This trip would be ten days long. They lay side-by-side in bed, not touching and Percy felt frozen inside.
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. It would be a perfect day for Quidditch. He would go cheer Oliver on and make his next move after the match. Testosterone levels ran high in the athletes after competition and Oliver was no exception, Percy knew he could easily wring two or three orgasms from the man. His father had always told him sex was a great healer; Percy hoped fervently that he was right. Puddlemere was victorious.
Percy met Oliver at the player's entrance and slipped an arm around him pushing his hand into Oliver's back pocket. Oliver shrugged out of his grasp.
"But I thought...we usually..."
"I've already been taken care of." Oliver replied stiffly.
Percy stopped in his track, horror suffusing his face.
Oliver turned taking in Percy's expression. "No. Not like that! I did it myself. Let's go home."
Percy sagged. He didn't know if it was in relief or from the weight of his conscience pressing down on him. His lover was angry and hurt and he was making a poor job of rectifying things.
The balance of Saturday and Sunday went the same frosty way that dinner Friday had. Percy would start conversations that would die an immediate, unnatural death. He didn't know what to do or say. Oliver was usually the sensible one leaving Percy to be the sulky, moody. Merlin, he had fucked up!
With a chaste kiss Oliver was gone again, for ten seemingly endless days. Monday morning, Percy called in sick. He was mooning like a thirteen year old girl, and it just couldn't be helped. Halfway through a second pot of tea and having played a depressing Muggle record by a group named 'Air Supply' several times, it hit Percy like a herd of erumpents. He had vacation time; he would just chase Oliver across Europe and make a nuisance of himself. Perhaps his continued presence would convince Oliver of his sincerity, and he would be forgiven.
It had seemed like such a good idea yesterday, but as Percy stood outside the locker room at the Irish National Stadium he was having his doubts. He had persuaded a ball boy to give him the password to gain entry all he had to do was use it. You are a Gryffindor, prove it! His subconscious voice sounded quite like Professor Snape. Percy murmured the words with a wave of his wand the door unlocked.
He marched through the room of half-naked men, looking for Oliver. His face turned pink and he responded to the other players who greeted him. The showers were running and Percy followed the noise. Not Oliver. Not Oliver. Oliver stood under the showerhead at the end. Water sluiced over him and Percy couldn't tear his gaze from the scene. The other two players smirked and hastily left the area.
Percy stepped directly behind Oliver. "Hi."
Oliver whipped around spattering Percy with water. "What? Why? Shouldn't you be at work?"
Percy nodded and sunk to his knees in supplication. "But I should be here as well."
Percy now at eye level with Oliver's cock watched it twitch. "I just... You need...I need..."
Oliver uttered a wary. "What?"
Leaning in Percy rested his cheek on Oliver's damp, muscular thigh. "I fucked up." He paused. "It's not just about sex if that's what you're thinking. I keep putting me before you and before us. It doesn't work that way, does it?" He mused. "You need to be first sometimes and we need to be as well. Do you still want a daft idiot for a boyfriend?"
Oliver chuckled. "You aren't an idiot and I still want you."
Percy looked up and beamed. "I was ready to chase you across the continent, just so you know."
Oliver's grin broadened. "My own personal towel boy then?"
A slow smile curled Percy's lips. "Yes. Is there anything I can do for you now?"
"As you're already done there..." Oliver trailed off as a gasp erupted from his throat.