Harry Potter, Percy/Oliver Wood, polishing cloths
Percy opened the door to his dormitory slowly and poked his head inside, calling out, “All clear?” He glanced around cautiously. Oliver was sitting cross-legged on his bed, reading his Transfiguration textbook. Percy sighed with relief. “Oh good. You’re done. I desperately needed my Arithmancy notebook.” He made a beeline to his desk.
Oliver looked up from his book. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t want to walk in when you were in the middle of… doing what you were doing.”
Oliver cocked his head. “And what did you think I was doing up here?”
“The others said you were up here polishing your broomstick.” Percy couldn’t help but notice a few cloths lying on Oliver’s bed. “I guess I should have given you a few more minutes.”
“Huh?” Oliver looked down at his book, then his bed. “Percy, you might be brilliant and Head Boy, but sometimes you don’t make any sense. I was just polishing my broomstick. I don’t need privacy for that.”
“Right,” Percy nodded, laying his finger against his nose and winking knowingly at Oliver.
Oliver closed his textbook and fixed Percy with an expression of disbelief. “Merlin’s Beard, Percy… you thought it meant…” He choked back a laugh. “Wait, wait. When you say you’ve been up here polishing your badge, you actually mean you’ve been wanking?”
“Certainly,” Percy said. “A man has needs, after all. Though I would put it in a more dignified manner.”
“Aye, of course you would.” Oliver had difficulty holding back his laughter now.
It was Percy’s turn to go from confused to understanding in the span of a handful of seconds. Suddenly, his eyes widened. “You mean you were actually—”
Oliver plunged his hand under his pillows and pulled out his broom. “Polishing my broomstick, yeah.”
Percy went completely red, flushing from cheeks to ears. He sank onto his bed, hand clapped over his mouth. “Oh, Oliver. I’m so sorry.”
The laughter Oliver had been fighting burst out of him. He shook his head and wiped tears from his eyes. “It’s all right,” he said around the laughing. “No harm done.”
Percy responded quickly, “Right. Right. No harm done.” Too quickly.
Oliver cocked his head again. “Perce?” Something was clearly wrong, but Percy seemed to be at a loss for words for a change. Concerned, Oliver got up and sat down beside Percy on the bed. “You all right?”
Percy nodded but when he tried to reply, a squeak came out instead of words.
“What’s wrong?” He touched Percy’s warm, red cheek with an incredible gentleness. “Please tell,” he whispered. “I won’t make fun, I promise. Just tell me.”
And even though he requested it, Oliver hadn’t really expected Percy to do it. Percy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “While I was waiting to get into the room, I may have been in the Prefect’s bathroom… polishing my Head Boy badge.”
Oliver nodded. “Okay…” He couldn’t see where this was going, but he also couldn’t deny the pleasure of the image of Percy in that grand bathroom, slipping naked into the water with his hand on his cock, that had popped into Oliver’s mind.
“And I may have been thinking of you polishing your broomstick while I was doing it.”
Oliver smiled. “Oh.”
Mortified, Percy opened one eye, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness from his dorm mate.
Suddenly, Oliver could see several moves ahead, just like he did in Quidditch. He moved in close, taking Percy in his arms, kissing, throwing him back, and then mounting him like a broomstick.
Percy gave in immediately, kissing back, moaning excitedly as his robes were pulled up. But then he grabbed Oliver’s forearm, stopping him. “Wait. We left the polishing cloths on your bed.”