Who: Percy Weasley + James Wilson What: 4 month anniversary dinner turned sexing When: 6/27 Where: Their place. ♥ Rating: High because sex Status: Complete
Since his job had become his career and his career had become his business, Percy had had a fairly new vigor on the concept of long days. Now when he went to work early and came home late he knew that it was for a good reason. It was his show to run (and Sam's), and it made a very large difference on his outlook.
But sometimes a man just had to leave the office. Getting home at a reasonable time rarely seemed so important as it did today. You know, to see exactly what kind of surprise his boyfriend slash fiancé had planned out.
When he finally got home and through the door, he was greeted by something that smelled possibly too good. Oh dear. Fancy dinner?
Wilson was wearing the pinstripe suit that showed off his bottom perfectly. He was, however, also wearing his apron as he didn’t want to spill anything on said perfect pinstripe suit. Humming, he looked up and smiled when he heard the door open. Scout and Baxter went to greet Percy, but Wilson didn’t say anything. He was busy chopping garnish, putting the finishing touches on the four course meal he’d prepared. There was also music playing, a glass of wine waiting, and even a movie if Percy managed to stay up that long.
Hey, he was the young one here. He could stay up late! Maybe. Okay, not usually. But he'd make extra effort tonight, or fall asleep in Wilson's lap trying.
Percy pet the dog, and then the cat-dog before settling his briefcase down and wandering in enough to poke his head into the kitchen. If he'd had anything to say when he walked in, he really couldn't recall it now -- there was something breathtakingly endearing about finding James there in the best suit he had along with a Winnie the Pooh cooking apron. He wasn't quite aware of it, but he was smiling a little stupidly from the doorway. Sometimes he was nearly hit over the head with how much he loved this man.
Turning his head, Wilson smiled when he saw his fiancé. “Hey, perfect timing.” He set down the almonds he was shaving and moved to give Percy a kiss. “I’ve got wine out for you if you want a glass. I hope you’re hungry, there’s a few courses.” He felt a little sheepish when he said it out loud, but he saw that Percy was smiling. That helped.
"You've over done it all," Percy said, going a bit pink. But he said it in that cute sort of false denial with a slight urge to continue sort of fashion. It was really, terribly British of him. Which was okay, probably, because he was really, terribly British.
"I feel oddly underdressed," he admitted, stealing another kiss before stepping further into the kitchen to peek at everything. He was, of course, wearing a suit (he always wore one to work), but it was hardly as nice as James'. The wine was his favorite overly-sweet white and the music was good, but not over powering. It was clear Wilson had certainly planned this out some.
“Oh, it’s just a fancy sit-down dinner. I do it every four months on this exact day. It’s not my fault that we started to date around the same time,” Wilson teased. He kissed Percy’s earlobe, sighing happily.
Taking off the apron, Wilson folded it and put it away before moving to make up two bowls and two plates. Moving toward the table, he grinned and set them down in front of Percy before moving to grab his own. “It’s a roasted beet salad with almonds and ricotta on the plate, and the bowl is a vegetable consomme with some ginger and vanilla.” He sipped his wine, reaching out to squeeze Percy’s hand under the table.
"Well," Percy said, feeling overly smug even as he slipped into his seat at the table and looked a bit amazed at the fancy made-menu. "I can't say I'm sorry to have interrupted your fancy dinner four months ago by making you take me out." He'd known Wilson was teasing, and this was nearly teasing in return -- but in the nicest way possible, he liked to think. Really, he was still occasionally floored by all of this. Them.
He returned the hand squeeze and gave another smile. He did that a lot more often lately. "This is -- impressive."
“It was fancy enough because you were with me,” Wilson smiled. He lifted up Percy’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Well, I hope it tastes as good as it looks. This was the first time I’ve made it, but the next three courses I’ve done before.” Test runs. He’d been eating vegetarian for a while at work in preparation for this.
"I suppose it was," Percy allowed, although there had been nothing outwardly fancy about that secret date at all. Unless blue drinks with little umbrellas in them were classier than he thought, but somehow the redhead doubted that highly.
"It looks perfectly edible," he said, brushing James' cheek with his hand before taking it back in order to take up his fork. The only unfortunate side effect to them both being left handed was the fact that it was nigh impossible to really keep touching whilst eating. Perhaps he should have been practicing at using his other hand for eating.
"You're amazing, I hope you realize."
“I just like doing things for you. I know you’ve been working a lot, so I kind of wanted to do something to help you relax.” He started to eat, enjoying the fruits of his labors and sighing to himself. “I’ll have to make this again.”
He really did enjoy spoiling Percy. Wilson suspected that this would always be so; Percy had this way of lighting up whenever he was pleased, and Wilson wanted him to do that all the time.
Percy might have objected to that -- certainly it would be less interesting for Wilson were Percy to act so pleased all the time, after all. Then again, he was a clever young man, and so saw no reason to object against positive things. There was just no practical use in being counter productive.
"I appreciate it. Although now I feel like I didn't try quite hard enough with my gift." He made a random happy sound over the soup that he'd already forgotten the proper name for.
“You did a wonderful job, hush. I’d just gotten some bad news about a patient, so I was glad to hear it.” He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand and grinned. “It cheered me up. And it really helped that the intern that gave me the news had just misread the chart so things were really fine after all.”
"Oh, goodness," Percy said, raising his hand up as if to ward off that particular idea. "I've got to find some new interns and that yours read a chart that poorly isn't encouraging at all." Personally, Percy was not interested in interns at all -- but he supposed he was fond of going home every now and again. Battles must be carefully chosen, or something. Also Sam was pouting an awful lot, lately.
He gave a sheepish sort of expression to follow that up, though. "I mean. It's good it turned out well, though." Details, he swore he paid attention to them.
“He was just nervous,” Wilson smiled. “It’s their job to learn. Really, ninety percent of the time I’m really grateful for my interns.” He had noticed that tiny eeping face that Percy had made. Wilson really did pay attention to details!
Percy was entirely too Type A to want to give over power and work to other people. It was a very harsh learning curve for him to be able to even think about doing it, let alone sign off on the paperwork to make it actually happen. “There’s still that ten percent,” the redhead pointed out with a tiny pout. He poked a beet with his fork in a way that he felt was quite pointed.
“Well, that’s why you give them work that’s fairly menial. I’d have looked the chart over myself, regardless.” Wilson couldn’t help but smile a little bit to himself; he really liked how much pride Percy put into his work. How much concern and care Percy demonstrated really spoke to his integrity and ethics, and it was the sort of thing for Wilson to smile fondly about.
“You have a point,” Percy conceded -- as he often did, because Wilson often made a good point. “Anyway.” he smiled shyly, glancing over the frames of his glasses. “Enough work, right? This is a once in four months type of dinner, I’d hate to ruin it.”
Wilson chuckled. “Exactly. Just let me know when you’re ready for course two, I left it warming.” Because that was how James Wilson rolled. Prepared. All anybody had to do was look at the jubilee of pens he kept in his lab coat breast pocket to see that.
That was one of the things Percy really liked about Wilson. Of course, he liked an awful lot of things -- but the fact that the man planned and prepared for basically everything was very comforting to him.
And it was just nice to never be wanting for a pen.
"What's course two?" Percy sipped his wine, sat up a little straighter in his chair.
“Truffle gnocchi with salt baked carrots,” Wilson said with a smile, leaning over to kiss Percy and clear away the dirty dishes at the same time. Yes. He did spoil Percy, but also himself, in a way; it wasn’t like he was just cooking for Percy.
Fair enough, although Percy assumed Wilson might make completely different recipes if it was just for himself.
He stood too -- always a little awkward when someone else was doing work around him. “Can I help?” He asked, adjusting his cornflower blue tie absently even as he hovered. “I can do the dishes later.”
“Of course.” Wilson stood, taking a kiss while he handed Percy the dirty plates. “If you want to put those in the dishwasher, I’ll plate up next course?” It was even more romantic somehow doing chores together.
Isn’t that all one could ask for in life, really? Someone who you liked enough where even doing the most menial of chores suddenly seemed pleasant so long as you were doing them together? That’s what Percy thought, anyway. Not that he’d ever really minded washing dishes, but still.
He rinsed the plates dutifully, and made it a point to stare at Wilson’s bottom while the other man worked on plating. He had worn that suit for a reason, after all.
Wilson’s cheeks were faintly pink; he could fairly feel Percy burning a hole in his trouser pocket. But he had truffles to grate on top of gnocchi. Once he’d arranged everything just so, he carried their plates to the table and went to snog Percy. The food could sit for a moment.
"Oh, hello." Percy wasn't really trying to be coy about it -- he just liked looking, and he liked the results of looking. He settled his hands onto his spot on Wilson's waist and happily took the kiss, (never snog, that was just poor form, Wilson) and then one more just for the sake of even numbers or something. Look, he wasn't thinking on it too hard, okay.
“Hi.” Wilson grinned, running his fingers through Percy’s hair for a change, pulling him a little closer. It was odd; Wilson had, in previous relationships, felt the need to be a white knight at all times, showing very little weakness or quirk. But with Percy, his quirk and oddities and weaknesses had made all the difference. He liked to think that Percy loved him because of his great faults. It was certainly why Wilson kept Percy around; they complemented each other.
In any case, Percy hardly needed a white knight -- he much preferred having someone around to talk to, someone who understood and related and someone who didn't bother him when he was in a poor mood. Wilson was that -- plus silly voices for poorly written romance novels.
And if they had to be fair, Percy was the magical one here. He could be the protector. Or at least do the dishes in a very keen fashion.
"Hello," he repeated, and kissed Wilson again.
Smiling, Wilson just let his forehead rest against Percy’s. “If you’d have asked me a year ago if I’d be in this position - really, genuinely happy with someone named Percy Weasley - I would’ve probably believed that I could be with someone like you, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I’d have thought happiness was possible if I hadn’t met you.” Because James Wilson was one of those people who did fine most of the time. Who didn’t really hurt, or fuss, or bother. But sometimes he noticed that he didn’t really laugh either, didn’t really guffaw or chortle or have fun.
But he did with Percy. He’d even brought out centaur porn and done whinnied fake orgasm noises for the younger man. And that, Wilson had decided, was love. He got it.
It would have been terribly easy to give a glib response Wilson's words; Percy had a good deal of snark still saved up from the long periods in his life where he hadn't bothered using it much at all. But that would really just be a disservice to the moment (sometimes, he was sure, they had to go as perfectly as he wanted them to, or else he might deliberate over them later).
It occurred to him that while Wilson was a man who was generally easy enough to please and rarely seemed in poor mood, he didn't exactly have a lot of people he went out and socialized with. It was fair to assume they'd both been a bit lonely before the other. "Is it greedy of me," he asked, "to say I'm glad neither of us have to know?"
It wasn't greedy. Because they'd both enjoyed those terrible accents and centaur orgasms (although Percy was certain that Wilson was just making goat noises, thank you).
“If it makes you greedy, it makes me greedy too,” Wilson smiled. He let his forehead rest against Percy’s, sighed contentedly, then broke the embrace. “Come on, there’s black truffles you’re not eating.” The moment was perfect, crystallized and in the back of Wilson’s mind for later ponderings, upon which he would smile. That was what Wilson did before he slept.
"I'm okay with being greedy." And really, he was. Just so long as that greediness included Wilson. Dual-greediness? Probably that wasn't a thing.
Either way, he stole one more snog before reseating himself at the table. Truffles were a thing he hadn't known he'd liked before meeting Wilson. Well, most foods he ate now were things he hadn't known existed. He meant to say he liked it, but came out with something very different, indeed. "Politics in the state have been uplifting this week."
Wilson nodded. “It’s true. We won’t have to go up to Washington after all, if we don’t want to.” He cut one of his gnocchi in half, dipped it in brown butter and looked at Percy. He was pleased that Percy had paid attention, but figured that Percy would’ve paid attention even if he was a straight man. He was a lawyer, after all.
True, Percy paid attention to most news, particularly the kinds dealing with law making -- but this was something he'd paid a bit more mind to than he usually might have. It affected him, after all. "It might be nice not to have to travel." He ducked his head down slightly, going a bit pink and finding a very sudden interest in his food. It was a strange conversation to him - to even vaguely be planning something he never thought he'd do.
“We could find a honeymoon location further away if we wanted, but it’d be nice to have the ceremony close to friends and family.” Wilson smiled to himself, watching Percy’s cheeks. Somehow, Percy was even cuter when he was sheepish. “You know, it’ll be fun to pick out a place.” It’d have to hold a million Weasleys.
At least a million. Really, Percy had a huge family. It was disgusting.
"A place?" He asked, nearly blank in his confusion for a moment. It was clear this wasn't really the sort of thing he'd ever taken much time to know about. "Oh. Like for -- the actual -- uh." He sipped his wine, and then smiled almost embarrassedly. "Is that fun?"
He nodded. “Finding the venue? It can be. Unconventional venues are fun. But we’ll figure that out eventually.” He squeezed Percy’s knee in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “Weddings aren’t awful as long as we don’t have a super long ceremony.” Wilson wrinkled his nose. His second ceremony alone had been two hours. He’d never gotten why, but it had been important to wife number two at the time.
It was a spectacle thing, as far as Percy was concerned. He'd be just as pleased without making a show of things -- for as much as he sometimes liked attention, he wasn't sure he liked that kind of attention. Perhaps it was just the recognition he generally enjoyed.
His smile at the reassuring touch was lopsided at best, but still a smile. "I'm in no rush," he said, going for wry. "I just didn't want you to forget I was still interested."
“You’re still wearing the ring. It helps.” Wilson smirked.
Percy blinked before his expression moved to one of playful exasperation. "Oh, hush," he murmured fondly.
Wilson couldn’t help but tug Percy close by the tie, kissing him heatedly. It was fun playing with his fiancé.
It took a special sort of person to think that Percy's feigned expressions of annoyance were fun. Luckily, Wilson was that special sort of person. The redhead, admittedly, liked it an awful lot too. He liked most things that resulted in kissing. For balance, he rested one hand on the table and the other on the back of Wilson's chair before putting his very best efforts into returning the kiss. This only made sense -- to take little breaks between courses.
Besides, black truffles were allegedly an aphrodisiac. And Wilson didn’t really need much libidinous inspiration. “I’m glad you still want to marry me,” Wilson smiled. “I half thought you’d freak out about it. I know I asked kind of suddenly.”
"Oh," Percy said with a tiny snuff of a laugh. "I'm still freaking out about it." Wilson had to know by now that Percy was the sort who was sort of constantly anxious. "But not because I don't want to do it." It had been pretty sudden, though. At the time, Percy had been sure he might pass out.
Wilson smiled, stroking Percy’s cheek. “I wasn’t scared at all, actually.” He’d had the clarity of mind that he always had when he did something that he was completely sure of. “I was really ... excited, anxious, but not scared.”
“I wasn’t scared either,” Percy felt the need to point out, nearly pouting, even as he leaned into Wilson’s hand some. He hadn’t been scared. He’d just been shocked. And you know, very concerned about the state of his hair. “But good. I mean. No reason to have been, anyway. You have to have known I wouldn’t --” pause. “You know. Say no?”
Wilson shook his head. “I assumed you would - if only because of the timing. I wasn’t expecting a ‘get away from me’ sort of no, but more of a ‘let’s slow down’ no. I’m just glad that you understand the concept of engagement. It means we’re promised to get married someday, whenever we’re ready. That can be tomorrow or in three years.” Percy was very much like a cat himself, which Wilson supposed explained his attraction to the animal. “Either way, I just like being yours. Is that weird?”
Percy found himself amused by the explained differences between 'no', but also a little surprised to find that Wilson had thought he'd have given even the latter meaning answer for it. Then again, he supposed not everyone was as keen on definition knowledge as he was. Or something.
It wouldn't be tomorrow, but Percy highly doubted it would be three years away, either. He adjusted his glasses before turning his head a bit to kiss Wilson's palm. "It's hardly strange at all, I should think. If you didn't like being mine, we might need to reassess the situation."
That just made Wilson smirk. “Well, don’t worry. No need for any of that.” Wilson would be Percy’s for as long as Percy would have him. It was the first relationship that James Wilson had ever been in that he wanted to fight for.
“Good.” Percy said it like they’d just made a very important decision and that he was rather proud of himself for making it happen. It was very silly, actually. He slipped back into his seat some, and smiled another one of his too-small smiles. “What’s next on your extensive menu?”
Wilson walked Percy through the next two courses, fava bean ravioli with wilted kale followed by dessert of kaffir lime semifreddo with tangerine, coconut, and vanilla poached kumquats. He’d really put a lot of effort into the semifreddo, and was glad that it had set perfectly.
Once the dishes were done and everything cleaned, Wilson settled down on the sofa and wrapped his arms around Percy. “It wasn’t much, but I wanted to do something special for today,” he smiled.
Percy rather wanted to change out of his clothing into something more comfortable, but was loathe to offer the same to Wilson -- he really did look terribly nice in that pinstriped suit and Percy got to see it so rarely. And so he suffered in silence for the greater good, wiggling over until his chin was rested on James' chest. "Wasn't much? That was possibly overly much. I would have been happy with only one of those courses." But he was impressed and delighted nonetheless. Even if it made his small purchased effort seem quite trivial.
“It’s easier to cook for me than you think. I like doing it.” Wilson ran his fingers through Percy’s hair. “I rented a movie if you want to watch it, or we can just stay like this.” Sometimes, in the quiet moments, Wilson was happiest.
“Mm,” Percy agreed in not words -- he knew Wilson had an easy time of cooking, knew the older man even made it look easy. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t effort. Either way, he appreciated it - liked it - but it was his job to protest trivially, in some regards.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed happily. “Let’s just -- this is nice. For a while.”
Wilson nodded, nosing about in Percy’s hair to kiss his scalp. “It is.” He just ran his fingers over the veins of Percy’s hands, delighting in their smoothness. Wilson’s own hands cracked sometimes from too frequent washings.
Percy was a not so secret consumer of hand lotion, which helped a lot with the fact that he did a lot of paperwork. A lot of that being digital now also helped, but no need to get ahead of ourselves, here. Turning his hand over in order to thread his fingers with James’, Percy smiled to himself. He could just sit here like this all night and be happy for it.
“Have I told you lately that I’m really glad that I hit on you?” Wilson chuckled to himself against Percy’s shoulder. “I didn’t know what I was doing at the time, and it was hamfisted, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You might have.” Percy nuzzled closer, feeling warm and a little fuzzy over it. Wilson did that to him, sometimes. “But I like hearing it.” He was glad too, though. It was nearly funny, in retrospect that they’d both wanted to go out, considering how little either actually liked that sort of thing.
“I normally don’t do things like that, but your little icons were... “ Wilson blushed a little. It sounded so shallow - ‘hey, I first asked you out because you’re hot’.
Percy didn’t mind. Lots of relationships started out because of attraction. That was really just the natural way of things. “That’s adorable,” he said, almost teasingly, leaning back a little to let Wilson have the full effect of a raised eyebrow.
Wilson bit his lower lip. “I um. Kind of have a thing for redheads?” Oh, dear, Percy was getting dangerously close to Wilson divulging his most embarrassing secrets.
He’d have to tell them at some point, anyway. Not like Percy was going anywhere, or didn’t want to know. “Is that so?” As if it weren’t obvious.
“The first guy I ever slept with was a redhead. It’s kind of stuck with me.” Wilson reached out to undo Percy’s tie, still feeling sheepish. “But you’re ... I mean, you know you’re really hot, right?”
That was interesting information, Percy only gave a polite smile about it, but filed it away - like he often did when Wilson spoke of his past encounters and relationships. It was like an odd puzzle of his fiancés life that he put together bit by bit when he had the time for it.
"I know I'm not unattractive," he allowed with a half smile. "But I certainly won't encourage you to stop you thinking me so." He rolled his tie up properly once it was off.
Wilson lightly kissed Percy’s neck. He could’ve spent hours talking about how he liked to just look at Percy, but that would be creepy. He could’ve said that objectively speaking, as a doctor, Percy was symmetrical and healthy and showed many dominant traits that were attractive to most people, but that would’ve been strange. So instead he just twined his fingers with Percy’s and nibbled his earlobe.
It was hard to think that Wilson could be either creepy or strange in excess, but maybe everyone had their own talents. In any case, Percy was more than fine with touches and kisses in response instead of words. The redhead went a little pink at the earlobe nibbles, ducking his head down a little with a shy sort of smile before turning to face Wilson again -- slender fingers working expertly at the Wilson's tie. "You're very attractive yourself, realize."
“I’m all right.” Wilson knew that he was acceptably attractive, but Percy’s compliment made him bite his lower lip and chuckle. “I think I get by because of my personality.”
“You also have very nice cheekbones,” Percy pointed out, fully removing and setting aside Wilson’s tie before moving on to shirt buttons. “And lips,” he paused, and actually gave an honest to god smirk. “But yes, I suppose you’re also a decently nice guy.”
Wilson’s eyebrows raised, and he actually blushed. “Decently nice? Why only decently?” He pretended to look offended, sniffing a little in feigned sorrow.
“Because,” Percy said pointedly, undoing each button with no flourish, but taking his time anyway. He liked when Wilson blushed. “No perfectly nice guy makes fun of people with speech impediments. Even the vampire kind.” Oh, Tobiath and his lisp.
“Tobiath was sort of asking for it with the way he was stalking what’s her name,” Wilson countered. “Oh, god, I really am a mean girl, aren’t I?” He laughed a little at himself, liking when Percy took his time undoing his shirt. “I’m lucky you put up with me.”
Percy only gave a tsk in initial response -- he did that sometimes, giving only little huffs of noise until his mind was in enough order to properly respond. “You’re hardly mean at all. And I wouldn’t call it putting up with you. More like...” he paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully even as he finished off all of the buttons. “Enjoying every second?” He never did seem to manage staying mean even in a teasing capacity for long.
“At least we’re on the same page, then.” Wilson stroked Percy’s cheek. Sometimes he wondered if he would mess this up the same way he must have messed up his previous relationships; guilt came easily to James. But that was the same negative, hurtful voice that told him that he wasn’t a very good doctor, or that his hair was too poofy. He suspected everyone had one. Percy was someone Wilson would happily spend the rest of his life trying to keep around.
Leaning forward, Wilson kissed Percy gently, remembering the first thing that they’d ever done together was on the same sofa they were presently sitting upon. It seemed fitting that they were celebrating four months together by likely doing the same thing all over again.
"Right, of course." Percy had always been in the habit of responding to things that probably didn't actually need a response. But it was a harmless quirk, and one that he was sure he was forgiven for in most cases.
The redhead was a fan of things like positive repetition based on nostalgia (even if it hadn't been too long ago, really), and was more than pleased to be on this couch, kissing Wilson much like the first go-round they'd ever had. In general he liked this couch -- often falling asleep on James' lap here while reading or watching movies, even when he had the option to go to bed instead.
Wrapping his arms around Wilson's shoulders, he pressed himself a little closer in order to deepen the kiss.
It was a pretty comfortable couch. Wilson had picked it out after laborious research and couch testing, not being the sort of person to commit to a piece of furniture on a whim. (Or a person, but he hadn’t committed to Percy on a whim, despite how it appeared; it had been a need, really.)
Wilson pulled Percy closer, into his lap, grinning when they fell back against the sofa a bit. He pushed Percy’s shirt off of his shoulder, gently biting down on the skin there.
Wiggling until none of his gangly limbs and sharp joints were in danger of poking anything important, Percy pressed closer until there wasn’t much a distance between them at all. He huffed out a little noise of pleasure at the biting, even as his hands found their usual happy purchase on James’ waist.
Percy’s skinny frame was a source of endless fascination for Wilson. He ran his fingers over Percy’s ribs, lightly, not enough to tickle, even as his tongue ran lightly over the younger man’s clavicle. He could do this all day.
And Percy would be happy to let him do it all day. With some added participation, of course. Leaning forward enough to press a kiss to the top of James’ head, he delighted silently in how soft it was (again. he was always delighting over this, it should probably have been a point of concern by now). “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Wilson smiled. And he did. It wasn’t something that he thought about overmuch because it simply was, in the same way gravity existed. Smiling up at him, he stroked Percy’s cheek, feeling uniquely and contentedly lucky.
That smile was one of Percy's favorites. It was the kind that was a whole mess of positive emotions all in one look for Wilson, and it always made the redhead want to kiss him until he was breathless and more.
So he did.
It almost seemed rude to ruin so much love with an erection, but Wilson’s body betrayed him more often than not. Grinning, Wilson ran his fingers idly up Percy’s spine, rubbing whenever he felt stress. “Sorry.”
Percy blinked at the apology, as if completely and utterly perplexed. “Sorry?” he repeated, “Why?” Each word was accompanied with a kiss.
Wilson arched his hips upward, his smile growing more sheepish. “I hate ruining romantic sentiment with my penis.”
That actually made Percy laugh, a delighted and surprised sound. “Yes, god forbid you ruin it all. How dare you.” He brushed his palm teasingly over Wilson’s obvious, although still pants-ed (it was a word now) erection.
“I know, now you’re going to look at me in disgust and tell you to go to my room. Or wait, am I being Freudian?” Wilson smiled lopsidedly, appreciating Percy’s laughter all the more because Wilson loved amusing his fiancé.
Who was currently palming him. Wilson bit his lower lip to keep from making a sound that would have been wholly undignified. Instead, he rocked his hips slightly upward.
"Please don't make Freudian jokes," Percy murmured pulling a little face but then smiling a little anyway. He did that, sometimes.
He nosed Wilson's chin upward a bit in order to kiss at his jawline even as he continued to rub at him through his pants. It made him feel a little bit like a teenager, which was nearly laughable.
“Right, I’ll stick with Jung or Pavlov in the future,” Wilson quipped. He gasped as Percy nibbled, closing his eyes and turning his head so the younger man would have more room. It really was a bit like necking in the backseat of his first car, only that had been with a girl named Cassi (no e, just an i - it had been fairly progressive and wild at the time).
There was a joke here. About salivating archetypes, but Percy couldn't quite put it into words, and so stopped trying after a moment. Anyway, he was busy. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and opened shirt even as he nibbled lightly on Wilson's neck -- they were both professionals after all, and leaving marks in such visible places was a terrible faux pas.
This was why Wilson owned concealer, really. Not just for his dark circles on days where he had to be photographed for random charity fundraising. Whimpering, he ran his nails lightly down Percy’s chest, meeting his eyes for a moment and smiling.
Percy returned that smile with a small, nearly shy one of his own before turning his eyes downward, fingers moving to work at Wilson's belt. Teasing though clothing was nice, but the redhead never had been particularly patient with this sort of thing, particularly not when he didn't have to be. Not when Wilson was whimpering.
Wilson couldn’t help whimpering, not really. He liked when Percy took the lead like this, and as such, only moved his hips to help facilitate Percy’s removal of his trousers. This wasn’t what Wilson had planned on doing after dinner and dessert. It was far better.
If Wilson really hadn't been expecting sex to be in the nights' equation at all, Percy would have been a little shocked. It wasn't as if either were really lacking in the way of libido -- Percy, in particular, always got a little extra touchy when things were going very romantically.
Shimmying his fiancés' slacks and boxers off at the same time, Percy leaned back for only long enough to half fold them and set them aside before closing the gap between them again, nipping at his hip bone with a little more purpose.
Wilson liked sex, but he’d learned after three marriages never to expect it. Expecting things lead to resentment. But when Percy nipped his hipbone, Wilson gasped, smiling and looking down at the man that he knew he was going to marry, eventually, and probably be co-uncle of a million redhaired nieces and nephews.
Great. Percy had James so wrapped around his little finger that he was open to sentiment pre-blowjob.
Percy didn't notice all that sentiment though, because he had that look of concentration on that he got when he was about to pay all of his attention to something. It was no slight to Wilson at all, instead a strange show of dedication.
He glanced up for a moment, gave Wilson a little smile before getting down to it nearly teasingly with little licks and kisses.
Wilson recognized that brow furrow, that amount of focus that happened when Percy was about to give himself into something one hundred percent. He ran his fingers through Percy’s hair, biting his lower lip and breathing hard. Percy was fantastic.
Just so long as Wilson never forgot it.
As always, he appreciated the head petting, and even in his concentration made a tiny noise of approval for it. There was little he liked more than when Wilson touched his hair - sometimes that fact was still a little bewildering.
Either way, he was never one to tease for long -- it just wasn't in him -- and so after a moment took Wilson's erection fully into his mouth, tongue twisting playfully along the bottom as he leaned forward a little more.
There was still a part of Wilson that couldn’t just lay back and enjoy a blowjob. He always felt a bit guilty, like he needed to help or something, like he needed to do something in return. But he knew Percy wouldn’t want him to feel that way, so he closed his eyes and groaned instead.
Good choice, really, since there wasn't a lot of help to be giving when one was receiving a blow job, anyway. Percy probably would not have objected to Wilson moving his hips some, but had no large preference either way. Mostly, he just liked doing this - it was a very attractive thing to know that he was the one getting Wilson to make those noises and groans.
Digging well manicured and short nails into Wilson's thigh, he worked a little harder - alternating between proper sucking and licking until he needed to breathe. Breathing was important, after all.
Wilson was a good person and didn’t move his hips at all. Instead, he just gasped, whimpered Percy’s name, and lightly tugged at his hair. “Dear god,” he murmured. If this was Percy’s reaction to desserts, Wilson could make a semifreddo every night.
It was Percy's reaction to Wilson in general, but the redhead certainly wouldn't object to more desserts, either. He was easy like that, really.
Leaning back a little, Percy licked his lips and smiled in a way that was nearly predatory. "Yes?" Sometimes he was just entirely too smug for his own good.
Laughing, Wilson sat up and kissed Percy firmly on the mouth, wrapping his arms around him and sighing contentedly. “Just happy.”
"Good," Percy huffed out after a moment of kissing, and nearly laughed in pleasure. Sometimes it just bubbled out of him, and it was the strangest of things. "I'm glad." He gave a little pause before going a bit coy. "Would you like me to continue, or shall we do something else?"
“I want you to do whatever you want.” Wilson smirked, loving whenever Percy laughed like that. Wilson’s fingers in the ginger’s hair had sent it sticking up a bit, and Wilson couldn’t help but ogle. He looked all sorts of tawdry and it made Wilson feel content.
Not really having a proper response to that, Percy only gave another vague smile that said he thought Wilson was doing something particularly endearing, and then leaned over to kiss him again before squirming back a little in order to go back to what he’d been doing.
Wilson just wanted Percy to be happy. Really, his life had boiled down to simple imperatives - Do No Harm. Love and Honor Percy. It made things easy, but complicated at the same time.
At least Wilson had narrowed it down a bit. Percy had no such luck with things like that, and his goals varied widely from Stop Freaking Out to Don't Make a Face Until You've Tried It. Still, he made some effort.
Speaking of effort! Blow jobs!
It was unfortunate, he thought, even as he kissed and licked at James' erection, that he hadn't thought to take his own pants off. Zippers were the worst.
Wilson had thought of that though, and after a bit he mentioned it. “You. Trousers. Pain. Off. Them.” Because talking was difficult when someone was doing what Percy was doing.
Leaning back again, Percy glanced up at Wilson, licking his lips slightly before raising his eyebrows. Smart. Even if it was in so few words and no real sentences. He gave a half of a nod, as if he wasn't sure how to make a real sentence either and then undid his belt, buttons and zipper before wriggling out of his slacks. He sighed a tiny sigh of relief.
“Percy, can you - I don’t know, maybe you can tonight?” They’d settled into a comfortable ritual of Percy on bottom so often that Wilson felt almost guilty. For while everyone thought of Percy Weasley as almost meek and prudish, Wilson was an exception. He knew exactly what ran beneath Percy, things that would make anyone else blush.
It took Percy a moment to get the meaning behind those words -- if only because he was a little slow on the uptake when his blood wasn't circulating like it normally did. Or something.
He tilted his head to the side and gave another half smile. "Of course." He rather liked being on top. About as much as he liked being on the bottom, actually. He was more than happy to, particularly when Wilson asked for it.
That made Wilson grin. He loved how happy and how ... well, English the other man could be at times. He was also amused at how often they had sex on his sofa. Wilson’s bed only saw about a quarter of the action in his household.
And the kitchen had still yet to see any. Which Percy was still pleased (and English) about. He folded his slacks along with everything they'd managed taking off recently and stuck them with the rest of the pile of clothing (how he managed to be so organized even while hard and distracted was beyond even him, sometimes), and then adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "Don't suppose we have any --?" Sometimes even he wasn't sure where Wilson stashed all those secret bottles of lube.
“TV stand, next to the remote,” Wilson purred. He stretched a little, amused that they were possibly the most OCD couple to have impromptu couch sex.
They really were. It hardly even felt impromptu when they always seemed to be prepared for every occasion. Percy liked that quite a lot -- there was never and needless floundering or relocating involved.
He got up to retrieve the little bottle next to the remote on the tv stand (good thing they never had company?) and then considered Wilson on the couch with an air of amusement, even though he wasn't really smiling. "Comfortable?" He found space on the end of the couch to crawl back onto.
If they’d had company, Wilson would’ve tucked it into a cabinet or something. “It’s a comfortable couch, yes.” He often pretended to be flippant when Percy was making his heart and stomach do flip flops.
Wilson could pretend all he wanted -- but Percy knew. He knew because his fiancé did the exact same thing to him sometimes. Also, he was an amazingly observant man when he put the effort into it. "It is," he agreed wryly, even as he flipped the cap up on the bottle (thank goodness for that design, by the way. Unscrewing things would be ridiculous, considering the product) and slicked his fingers. "Scoot up some?" He was ever so polite, but knew he didn't actually need to be.
Wilson nodded, moving closer to Percy. He just liked watching him sometimes, which probably bordered on creepy, but it was true. He was just stunning, all lithe muscles and pale skin. Smiling to himself, Wilson ran his fingers through his hair.
And freckles! One couldn’t forget about freckles when looking at the pale redhead, considering his shoulders and arms seemed to be made up of them. That wasn’t really the point though. Percy didn’t mind when Wilson watched - it sort of just made his stomach feel warm.
On his knees, he carefully leaned forward to kiss Wilson -- nearly a sweet, chaste thing even as he played slickened fingers almost teasingly downward.
The freckles were just cute, and Wilson liked to kiss them whenever he was spending time nibbling on a shoulder. But he wasn’t kissing his shoulder, he was kissing Percy’s mouth, and he was trying not to rock too insistently into Percy’s fingers. The younger man had figured out how to play him like an instrument, something Wilson was at turns grateful for and amused by. They both had fantastic work ethics, both believing in studying something until you really were great at it. Sex was no exception.
Percy absolutely had to be a hard study at everything he wanted to be good at, since he didn't consider himself naturally gifted at much of anything. Sex, in particular, he wanted to be good at. Because it was amazing and fun, but also because Wilson was older and so obviously more experienced and it would be a disservice to the both of them if he didn't try his hardest.
Luckily, Percy was a fairly quick learner.
He had no problem with Wilson's enthusiasm -- rewarding the rocking with a surer hand, all confidence and an extra finger. Really, most people who knew him would probably be shocked.
Wilson loved that he got to see this part of Percy, and only him. It made him smile to himself when he thought of it at work, and he often thought of it at work. Whenever a case got particularly difficult, all Wilson had to do was sum up Percy smirking while doing something confident - cocky, even - and it made him smile to himself.
Even though Percy was rather the one in control here, he was the first one to give a little whimper. He wasn't always the most patient of men, not when he didn't have to be, and so he slipped his fingers free, and arranged himself to properly enter the other man even as he leaned forward for another kiss.
Wrapping his arms around Percy’s thin shoulders, Wilson kissed him firmly, all teeth and tongue and shifting of his hips. He liked Percy this way, impatient and wanting.
Wilson shifting beneath him really only made Percy groan a little -- sinking in deep and taking a moment to adjust -- to remember that breathing was a thing, and a thing he should be doing, and that kissing was lovely and literally one of his favorite things in this life. "God," he mumbled after a moment, and then found a proper way to balance himself so he could move again. It'd been a while.
Reaching up, Wilson’s fingertips ran over Percy’s chest, legs moving so they were higher up on Percy’s hips. The look on the older man’s face was intense concentration mixed with intense pleasure, and the combination made him seem to almost be contemplating his very existence like a Buddha on the mountain.
It was a serious enough expression where even Percy (who was someone who knew about intense concentration, thanks) nearly laughed. Except he was busy, and so refrained. Later though, he'd think about it and possibly have a giggle over it.
He reached one hand back to rest against Wilson's knee, and tried his hardest not to be too introspective or even with the speed and thrust of his hips (it was not sexy to time things).
Gasping Percy’s name, Wilson arched his back and rocked harder into Percy’s thrusts. There was something so beautiful when Percy lost control that made Wilson want to help him get there, to that reckless, unleashed place.
He liked his name on James' mouth. Liked the way he could get the older man to gasp and squirm. He leaned forward just enough to steal another kiss -- a little rough, teeth against Wilson's bottom lip, particularly on a down thrust.
"Glasses," he said, leaning back a little and tilting his head to the side. The damn things were falling off of his nose and he had no interest in stopping what he was doing to fix them. Wilson would get it.
And get it Wilson did, taking Percy’s glasses and putting them on the coffee table. Rough was good, and Wilson encouraged it with a plaintive whimpering of Percy’s name. That, accompanied by fingernails down his spine, and Wilson was fairly sure he’d be able to get Percy to redouble his efforts.
He was just warm, yet somehow the heat pooling up his spine was cold, kind of like how he’d been told cauterization felt while under local anesthesia. Crap, even his internal monologue used medical metaphors.
Yeah, that was kinda fucked up. Good thing it was internal monologue, or else Percy would be terribly distracted from his now glasses free redoubled efforts. He was all sharp hip thrusts and little gasps and blurred, useless vision even though Wilson was ever so close. Sometimes he liked the way the world blurred into just colors when his glasses were off -- it was a bit like seeing feeling. Just primal and lacking any extreme clarity.
Wilson was sure to keep the kisses going since Percy couldn’t see how well he was doing, how much Wilson was enjoying himself. Auditory and sensory were the ways to go to help urge Percy on into yet faster, yet harder. He was pretty sure the sofa wasn’t entirely built for this.
It really wasn't. One of these days they were bound to break the thing -- and wouldn't that put a damper on their plans and efforts? For now, though, it remained as solid as ever, even if it was a bit squeaky. Then again, it was leather, so maybe squeaky was fine, too.
"You're brilliant," Percy muttered out breathless and nearly stupidly happy. He never used words that were distinctly British when he could think better of it. It honestly wasn't even that great of a compliment.
Wilson smiled to himself. “You were first,” he murmured. “I’ve been nuts about you for a long time.” Wilson was pretty honest with how stupid he was over Percy; he couldn’t help himself.
Percy wasn't going to actively argue the semantics, but normally he might have pointed out that they'd both liked each other for basically the same exact amount of time. Maybe Wilson had a few minutes on him. Either way, he gave a huffed out laugh about it, resting his forehead on Wilson's shoulder and digging shortly cropped nails into the grip he had on Wilson's knee.
It was good, and too much, and he wanted to keep doing what he was because he liked it so well, but that would probably require slowing down just to pace himself. Which wasn't nearly as fun a thought. Adult decisions were hard ones.
Huffing out a whimper, Wilson felt himself about to lose it and he bucked his hips enthusiastically in response.
Releasing his grip from Wilson’s knee, Percy snaked his arm back around in order to take grip of Wilson’s erection, his stroke as rough as his subsequent thrust.
Fuck. Wilson almost cried, letting out a loud whimper of release as he came. It had been a while since he’d come this way, and he shut his eyes tightly, gripping the couch like he was scared that he might fall. “Fucking goddamn.”
It might have been weird, but Percy came with a laugh bubbling out of his lips. Wilson's words - never usually so crass - struck an odd chord in him and he couldn't help but giggle breathily between little pants. Fucking god damn, indeed. He pressed his forehead to James' chest and wondered how to breathe properly.
Grinning, Wilson ran his fingers through Percy’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “I second that motion,” he murmured. He liked when Percy laughed, and that had been no exception. “Have I mentioned today you’re perfect for me?” Maybe not to everyone. But around each other, yeah. They were perfect.
Nuzzling closer, Percy didn't quite bother to unattach himself from the older man quite yet -- instead just delighting in the closeness and the hair petting. "Mm," he said, sounding about as close to languid as he got. "I think it was implied."
“I’m glad you’re finally aware,” Wilson murmured. He could die pretty happy in that moment.