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Percy had left Oliver in the bedroom when he went to shower. The Quidditch player seemed so peaceful in his sleep that, despite wanting to continue with their new relationship development as soon as possible, Percy couldn’t bear to wake him. He’d left Oliver with a kiss to the forehead.
The water was hot enough to burn. Percy stood under the stream and let it cook him, relaxing his muscles until he was swaying. He used Oliver’s rosemary soap and combed out his curls with his fingers. He was sore and not in a bad way, but certainly in a different way. Hopefully it’d be a feeling he’d adjust to over time; Something that’d become second nature, and not something he’d have to actively think about.
When he finally shut off the water, Percy noticed that the air was cold . His skin goosebumped; He’d been expecting and, frankly, looking forward to the steaming hot air. It was a welcome reprieve from the chill London air, and presumably this lack of heat meant-
“Oliver?” Percy asked, pulling the shower curtain back.
Oliver stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, entirely naked. He had his tanned arms crossed tight across his chest and his hair was fluffed from uncombed bedhead. Percy could see faint pink scratch marks winding from his chest to his neck; His scratch marks, overlapping in numerous places.
Percy had done a number on him, evidently.
“Didn’t even think about asking me if I wanted to join?” Oliver asked, smirking. “Bit rude, innit?”
“My deepest apologies, Oliver.” Percy responded, stepping on the bath mat. He rung out the excess water in his hair, water dripping down his side, “You just seemed… tired.”
Percy took the few short steps to the door, giving Oliver a quick peck on the cheek. When the other man didn’t move Percy turned to study himself in the mirror; Oliver had done a number on him as well. Bruises littered the sides of his neck and his collarbones, a vibrant purple-red against his pale skin.
“Tired?” Oliver asked, stepping behind Percy, “Me?”
Their eyes met in the mirror. Oliver stepped forward, hands whispering over Percy’s hips; He pressed a kiss to Percy’s shoulder. Percy leaned back into the touch, dragging his fingers back across the countertop until he was gripping the edge. It wasn’t verbal but Oliver was asking him something- Percy was eagerly trying to communicate yes.
Soft kisses were laid from Percy’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, and Oliver stopped to brush his lips against the shell of Percy’s ear. “Not very tired at all, really.”
“It was just an assumption.” Percy smiled, all innocence.
Oliver snorted into his shoulder, and then he was using one of his feet to nudge Percy’s apart. “You’re the last person on the bloody planet who should be making assumptions.”
Oliver skirted one of his hands over Percy’s thigh; Percy let his eyes flutter and head lull back. Oliver’s fingers dipped low and traced over the tight ring of muscle he found there. It was still a newer sensation for Percy to experience. Something light and loving that made his legs go soft.
Oliver mouthed a quiet spell against Percy’s spine; Something that both relaxed him and made the following process easier.
Percy didn’t have anything to say. He let out a sigh as one of Oliver’s fingers entered him, and then a low moan when it became two. Oliver moved slowly; Percy had the brief thought that Oliver could ask him to do anything, and he would, no questions asked. He’d do anything to keep this sensation happening for as long as possible- perhaps a dangerous thought to have for another person, but entirely genuine.
The moment didn’t last nearly as long as Percy would’ve liked, and he let Oliver know with a huff. The fingers withdrew.
“Couldn’t have even bothered to see if I was awake- and now you’re making demands?”
Percy let out a breathy laugh- Oliver had a fair enough point.
Oliver pressed himself up against Percy, his now free hand lifting up to Percy’s throat. He held it, gently, as he lined himself up with Percy’s entrance and Percy thought maybe the gods themselves had formed his throat to fit perfectly into the palm of Oliver Wood’s hands.
“Ready?” Oliver asked, and Percy nodded. During their first time he’d had a rush of anxiety at this exact moment; Oliver had held still and waited until Percy was adjusted. He’d petted Percy’s hair and whispered something sweet into Percy’s skin that the redhead couldn’t quite remember- perhaps it’d been in Gaelic.
Oliver didn’t wait this time. He fully pushed in until Percy was doubled over the counter and making a wildly unbecoming sound, forehead pressed against the cold countertop. Already panting, Percy shifted his hips and Oliver’s mouth pressed against his shoulder.
“Percy,” Oliver said, and Percy felt the strong hand around his throat lift, “Percy, look at me.”
Percy did. Their eyes met in the mirror again, significantly closer to the glass now. Oliver smirked at him. “Do you want me to go grab your glasses?”
Percy let out a dry laugh, pushing himself back against Oliver. The other man apparently had some sort of fetish for Percy’s spectacles. “Are you only ever going to have sex with me if I’m wearing them?”
Oliver gave him a kiss on the cheek before thrusting in, hard and unrelentless. Percy scrambled to find purchase on the countertop, one hand splaying out on the mirror. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth.
“Nah, you’re just as pretty without them.” Another thrust. Oliver moved the hand not around Percy’s throat to his hips instead, so that there was a gap between Percy’s legs and the counter. It stopped the cool tile from digging into the flesh of the redhead’s legs. “Just wanted you to be able to see how pink you get.”
“I hate you,” Percy laughed, “Pull out of me right now, Wood, I’ve changed my mind.”
He could feel Oliver’s smile against his neck. Then Oliver was moving again, setting a pace that had Percy making breathy and short sighs. Not fast, but not so slow as to be defined as lovemaking. Moans caught in Percy’s throat and he was certain Oliver could feel them through the palm on Percy’s windpipe.
“Look at me, Percy,” Oliver asked, not slowing his pace but tightening his grip, “Please.”
Percy opened his eyes- he was so close to the mirror that his hot breath had fogged it up. He swiped it away before meeting Oliver’s gaze again; Percy never wanted to look anywhere else again. No sight would be as beautiful as Oliver’s blown pupils or his flushed cheeks as he moved behind Percy.
The rhythm was soft yet firm; Percy found purchase on the countertop with his elbows. He rolled his head back so Oliver could grab at him more. If Percy could’ve made this moment stretch on forever, he would’ve. He’d trade any amount of money or power or notoriety to stay right here in their bathroom forever, Oliver deep inside him. This was where Percy belonged.
Oliver was starting to lose his composure; The thrusts meeting Percy’s hips were no longer steady. He was panting against Percy’s skin and whispering Percy’s name in intervals- Percy fought to hear them around his own sounds. His own terribly embarrassing sounds, soft and keening as he tried to keep them down. He tried to say Oliver’s name but just found there were too many letters in it, stuttering out an Ah sound instead.
He was shaking; Could feel the finishing sensation building up in his legs. He was clumsily managing to wipe the fog off the mirror so he could keep their eyesight connected, but his ragged breath was making it difficult.
He was falling apart beneath Oliver’s touch and gaze. Brown eyes held blue firmly, and Percy could see the way his own jaw was slack with want. Oliver had been right; Percy was blazing pink, his chest completely red against Oliver’s tanned skin.
“Percy, Percy,” Oliver was begging him for something, accent thick; Percy would give him anything. “Percy, love, come for me.”
And Percy did. A shout ripped from his throat and he grabbed at the mirror again, fingertips grasping through the moisture of his breath. He fell against the countertop, pinning Oliver’s arms.
Oliver was moments away, Percy could feel it in the way his head dropped to Percy’s neck and every pant was a moan. The sounds reverberated from Oliver’s chest into Percy’s own. An opportunity arose-
Percy felt himself smirk, and with a laugh: “Oliver, I love you.”
Oliver shuddered. Percy felt himself be pressed into the countertop, the grip on his throat impossibly tight. Unbearably hot heat spread through Percy’s core; Oliver’s breath was absolutely ragged as he pressed his head to Percy’s nape.
Laughter was smothered in Percy’s damp hair. “Fuck you, Percy, you absolute cunt of a man.”
They stayed like that for a moment; then two. Percy felt Oliver’s smile against his scalp before he pulled out. The loss was instantly noticeable.
He’d need another shower. “Oliver?”
Oliver was still riding the high and smiling like a fool. “What? What do you want now?”
“Would you like to take a shower with me, Oliver?” Percy couldn’t stop the grin cracking across his face.
“Aye, but fuck you, Perse. I love you too.”
Percy loved him more than he thought was humanly possible.
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