Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/278848.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Bill_Weasley/Oliver_Wood
  Character:
      Bill_Weasley, Oliver_Wood
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, Rimming, First_Time
  Series:
      Part 1 of Past_Curfew
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-11-17 Words: 7038
****** Past Curfew ******
by juice817, semaphoredrivethru
Summary
     Oliver is where he shouldn't be and finds something he didn't expect.
Notes
     Oliver is 16 and Bill is not. In story age of consent is 16. Underage
     tag being used to err on the side of caution.
     This fic is from back in the vaults. 2006 era. The rest of the series
     to follow.
~**~**~**~**~**~
Oliver stopped at the street corner, hands in his pockets, and looked around
nervously. No, he thought, not nervous. M'not. He knew exactly where he was and
what he wanted and why he was there and oh god.
Directly across the street was London's most popular gay nightspot. It looked
nearly innocent from the outside, but Oliver had heard you could find any and
every sin imaginable inside... and he wanted to fucking sin.
If he could only find the balls to try to talk his way in.
He shifted from one foot to the other. He knew he looked young, but not that
young, and besides, he was legally old enough for sex even if he wasn't quite
for drinking, and it was dark. Surely he could pass the bouncer in the dark.
Finally taking another deep breath, Oliver took a step toward the club. This
was what he wanted. He was here for a reason, and...
Holy fuck.
The most beautiful man in the entire world had just stepped out of the club. He
didn't see Oliver, not at first. He was calling to the friends who were
obviously irritated with him, a smile curving his lips as he said something to
them. Oliver just stared and managed, barely, not to drool.
This. This was what he wanted.
Laughing at the sour expression on Nigel's face, Bill tossed his head back,
shaking some of his long red hair away from dark blue eyes. "I can't help it if
the bloke you were pulling likes freckles and leather better than tan and
denims, Nige," he said, eyes dancing with mischief and energy thanks to the
blow job he'd just gotten in the loo. "If it makes you feel any better," he
added, idly looking around out of habit, "I got his phone number. If you play
it right, he might forget enough to think it was your cock he was just singing
the praises of."
Nigel said something rude, quite possibly about over-inflated egos and
engorgement charms, and behind him, Robert and Tony snickered in agreement, but
Bill was just drunk enough that he didn't really care one way or the other.
Taking a deep breath and rotating his shoulders back under his leather jacket,
Bill tucked his thumbs into his front pockets, fingers druming absently to the
pounding beat inside.
That was when he looked across the street and saw him.
He was young. Definitely too young for this place, but the spread of his
shoulders put him old enough for at least some of the activities that went on
inside, and his short dark hair had that generic school-boy cut that Bill
remembered all too well. He was wearing plain, loose jeans and a t-shirt, and
he looked ridiculously out of place among all the tight leather and shimmering
fabrics that Bill was used to seeing at the club. Intrigued, wondering if maybe
this was just the new style to look like you didn't care about style, Bill
waved off Nigel and the others as they tried to get him to leave with them, and
crossed the street, prowling forward in his dragon-hide boots.
The closer Bill got, the more he could see that this boy was completely out of
his element. He looked about Percy's age, but infinitely more fit than Bill's
younger, bookish brother. Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Bill smiled
slowly and gave the kid a once over as he wondered how much it would take to
scare him back home to his mummy.
"It's a school night, you know," he said, smirking.
"So?" Oliver said just a bit belligerently, hunching his shoulders and shoving
his hands even harder into his pockets. His brain was whirling. Oh my god, oh
my god. He's right here. Talking to me.
He could be Percy's brother, with the red hair and freckles, but what had
combined in Percy to create an awkward nerd of epic proportions had, in this
man, created a confident, arrogant, fucking gorgeous god that Oliver suddenly,
desperately, wanted. His fingers curled into fists in his pockets as he fought
not to touch. To stay cool. Calm. Grown-up. He raised an eyebrow and gave the
man a challenging look. "I'm not in school any more. I was just going in
there." Oliver gestured with his head at the club.
"Is that so?" Bill asked, taking a step closer. The kid was cute; tan, not
nearly as gangly as most teens. He had a dimple in the middle of his chin and
the tip of his nose was turned up just enough to soften his attitude so that
Bill found it amusing rather than irritating. His eyes were dark and nervous,
pupils wide as he stared up at Bill. "So you come here often, do you?"
"Yeah, all the time," Oliver lied. His shoulders dropped as he forced himself
to relax a little. "It's an okay club, I guess." This close, Oliver could see
the glint of gold at one ear. He wanted to taste it. His eyes drifted over a
freckled face and met knowing blue eyes, and he flushed and got nervous again.
"I come a lot," he finished lamely, and looked away.
Thinking about the blow job again, Bill smirked. "So do I," he drawled, and
reached out to trace the line of the kid's shoulder, surprised to feel strong
muscles underneath the cotton shirt. "But you don't want to go in there now,"
he added, stepping even closer. They were almost touching now, the kid's face
hidden in shadows as Bill blocked out the light from the club.
"I don't?" Oliver asked softly. Oliver could feel the heat of the man's body
now and leaned closer, looking up into his face. He was even more gorgeous
close up, his blue eyes alive with humour and intelligence Oliver could see
even in the darkened street. Oliver swallowed and forced himself to brashness,
voice stronger as he added, "Why not?"
"Because my hotel is the other direction," Bill said, closing the space between
them and nosing along the kid's high cheekbone and breathing teasingly against
his lips. He wondered if the kid would run now, or if he'd keep up this
ridiculous charade of being worldly. Brushing their mouths together, just once,
Bill felt a wave of dizziness from all the alcohol and a surge of lust at the
same time, and he hoped that this kid would have enough balls to at least
pretend a little longer. Long enough, hopefully, that Bill'd get to see those
surprising shoulders for himself.
Oliver leaned in and tilted his face, capturing soft lips in a stronger kiss.
That light brush had not been enough, had pushed Oliver into action. His hands
tugged free of his pockets so they could rest on the man's chest. Oliver didn't
quite know what he was doing, but he went with instinct, lips opening and
tongue darting out to taste the man's upper lip. "Lead the way," Oliver
murmured, and tasted again as his fingers curled into the shirt under them.
Bill covered the kid's mouth fully, tongue pushing into his mouth and tasting
the innocence there. It was just about as intoxicating as what he'd been
drinking inside, and Bill pulled him closer, one hand at the kid's waist as he
stuck the other one out to hail a cab. The hotel might only be a few blocks
away, but Bill could think of much better ways to spend the trip than just
walking.
When a taxi pulled to a screeching halt at the kerb beside them, Bill backed
away enough to open the door and give the kid a knowing smirk. "Coming?" he
asked, eyes fixed on damp, parted lips, his own cock firming in the tight
denims he wore.
"I hope so," Oliver muttered, and climbed into the cab.
Once Bill had given the address to the cabbie, he turned to the kid next to
him, sliding an arm over his shoulders and pulling him close. By now, on the
few occasions Bill ever brought anyone back with him, he'd have had his hands
in their trousers, driving them mad in the back of the cab so that by the time
they got to their destination, they'd be lucky to make it much further than the
first dark alleyway. But for some reason, Bill was tempering himself, wanting
to see how far he could push this kid, and willing to enjoy every last step
along the way.
"Bill," he said by way of introduction, his long nose brushing along the kid's
face as he rubbed up a strong thigh that reminded Bill of Quidditch players and
riding brooms. He palmed the kid's crotch, pressing firmly as the cab swung
around a corner, only a block away now from the room Bill'd taken for the next
couple of weeks while here on business.
"O-oliver," Oliver managed on a gasp, legs opening wider to accommodate the
strong hand between them. He let his head rest against the cushion, eyes closed
and mouth slightly open. Oh god. There was still denim and cotton pants between
Bill's hand and his cock, and already it was a hundred times better than his
own hand had ever been. He forced his eyes open enough to watch, and knew
looking down at pale flesh cupping him that he would never look at freckles in
quite the same way again. Oliver turned his head into the brush of Bill's nose
seeking that mouth, already addicted to the taste and feel of his kisses.
"Nice to meet you," Bill chuckled darkly, then sealed their mouths together,
tongue diving back into the kid's -- into Oliver's mouth. He wondered if Oliver
was a virgin or just inexperienced, but not enough to stop and ask. Instead,
Bill rubbed him slowly, making him gasp and writhe quite prettily, only to let
go abruptly when the taxi stopped in front of the hotel.
Oliver made an abrupt needy noise when Bill stopped and forced his eyes open.
When had they closed? "Why," he rasped, then swallowed and tried again. "Why'd
you stop?" He realised the taxi had stopped too, and straightened from his
slouch.
Bill just laughed knowingly as he paid the driver, who smirked at the pair of
them as Bill climbed out of the cab, his long legs eating up the sidewalk. He
didn't wait for Oliver, just expected him, and rightly so, to follow.
Fuck. Oliver scrambled out of the cab after Bill, knowing he'd made himself
look stupid and vowing to just shut up for the rest of the night. Flipping the
bird at the cabbie, Oliver jogged across the pavement and through the door Bill
had disappeared into. He hoped Bill wanted him to follow, he hadn't said.
Once through the door, Oliver paused to take a breath and look around,
impressed at the luxury of the lobby and miserably aware of his own scuffed
trainers and jeans. He shrugged it off and sauntered over to the bank of lifts,
hands back in his pockets as he stopped next to Bill and watched the old-
fashioned dial mark the progress of the lift as it smoothly slid down to the
lobby.
The lift dinged to announce its arrival just as Bill turned to Oliver and
smirked knowingly. "Here's our ride," he said as the doors slid open. His eyes
darkened and he licked his lips, adding, "But the main one's upstairs." Then he
grabbed a fistful of Oliver's t-shirt and hauled him into the lift, ignoring
the scandalised gasps of the girls behind the front desk. He pinned Oliver to
the mirrored wall, mouth plundering his and grinding his hips suggestively,
eyes open and free hand hitting the top button for his floor.
Oliver's hands went to Bill's hair, fingers tangling in the long red strands as
he opened his mouth to Bill's tongue. His hips ground back into Bill's and he
groaned softly into the hard kiss. He could feel the lift rise and his stomach
clenched. They were really going to do this. He was going to have sex, finally.
And with the most gorgeous man Oliver had ever seen. Oliver smiled into the
kiss, and rubbed his crotch against Bill's again.
The doors opened, revealing an empty hallway, and Bill dragged Oliver the few
metres to his door, hand tight in the kid's shirt. Reaching into his jacket,
Bill withdrew the magnetic key, almost pausing to give Oliver a real chance to
back out. But then he thought about how Oliver'd moved against him in the lift,
and Bill told himself there was no way he hadn't done this before. He opened
the door and let go of Oliver's shirt, sauntering into the suite and shrugging
off his jacket, able to take his time again, now that he had his prey in the
room.
"Flip the deadbolt, would you, Ollie?" he called, pulling off his boots and
yanking the tie out of his hair, not that it had been doing much good so far,
and let his hair all tumble past his shoulders as he finger-combed out the
knots that Oliver'd put in it earlier.
"Sure," Oliver said. He swallowed, trying to regain his bearings. They'd been
kissing, Bill's tongue down his throat and his cock achingly hard and pressed
to Bill's body just seconds ago, and Oliver felt dizzy with the abrupt switch.
He breathed in deeply and turned, flipping the dead bolt. Oliver leaned his
back against the door and watched Bill's fingers move through his hair. He had
no idea what to say. "Do you live in the hotel, then? It's a nice place."
"Nice enough," Bill said, pouring a couple of whiskeys and handing one to
Oliver. "But I'm only staying here for a few weeks on business." He sipped his
drink and watched Oliver with hooded eyes. "Not that I mind mixing it with a
bit of pleasure."
Oliver sniffed at the alcohol, inhaling the fumes before sipping at the liquid.
His eyes widened a bit as it burned its way down his throat. He'd had his dad's
whiskey before, a couple times, but this was much stronger. Better. He took
another swallow, a slightly bigger one this time. "They must pay you well," he
said absently, then realised how tacky that was. "Where'll you go next?" he
quickly added. Shut up, Oliver.
Bill relaxed when the kid looked horrified at commenting on his income. For a
minute there, he'd thought that he'd lost his touch and had actually managed to
pick up a slag. "Back to work," he said vaguely, throwing back the rest of his
drink and setting the glass down.
"C'mere, Ollie-boy," he half-purred, pulling his white t-shirt up and over his
head, hair getting tousled in the process.
Oliver went, setting his still full glass next to Bill's before stopping in
front of the older man. His eyes travelled over the lean muscles covered by
freckled skin, and he shoved his hands in his pockets again. Slowly, his gaze
moved up Bill's throat, over his face and met the blue eyes looking back at
him. "Did you want something?" he asked with a smirk.
Arching one fiery eyebrow, Bill traced a line down the centre of Oliver's
chest, down to his groin, and cupped his cock again, squeezing once before
tugging at his belt. Leaning forward, his long hair brushing over Oliver's
face, Bill smirked as he sucked on Oliver's earlobe.
"I wanted to fuck your brains out, actually," he growled. "But you'll need to
be naked for that."
"Or at least lose the jeans," Oliver agreed, shivering as Bill growled in his
ear. He took a single step back away from Bill and quickly tugged his own t-
shirt off over his head, then opened his jeans. Toeing off his trainers, Oliver
shoved the jeans down and stepped out of them and the shoes. He hesitated
briefly before resolutely removing his pants, too. Bill had said naked, after
all. And it wasn't as if he'd never been naked in front of another bloke
before. This was the first bloke who planned to fuck him, but he was just
another bloke. Oliver ignored the little voice in his head that told him Bill
had never been and would never be just another bloke.
Bill's eyes heated up as he looked Oliver over; maybe he wasn't that young
after all. No kid had any right to have muscles that defined. Maybe he was
closer to Charlie's age than Percy's, Bill thought, and that was somehow enough
to make it easier for Bill to push his own jeans off, stepping out of them and
closing the distance between them, pressing their nude bodies together. "How do
you want it?" he asked in a low, rough voice, hands going down to knead at
Oliver's rounded arse, groaning when their cocks rubbed together. "Hard? Slow?
Do you want to taste my cock, ride it?"
Oliver had no idea how to answer that, and couldn't gather his scattered brains
enough to really think about it, not with Bill's hot skin pressed to his, those
hands squeezing his arse. That cock sliding against his own. "Um," he managed,
"yes." The vague thought that slow would probably be better this first time
floated through his mind, and he added, "Slow, maybe. Anything you want."
Oliver's hands moved around Bill's body to cup Bill's perfect cheeks, squeezing
in echo of Bill's own movements.
There was something in Oliver's voice. Something that reminded Bill of himself
not all that long ago, and he paused, pulling back to look down into Oliver's
dazed and lust-fogged eyes. "You've never done this before, have you?" he
asked, suddenly tender and uncertain if this was the best of ideas after all.
"Maybe... maybe you should go, kid," he said, but couldn't bring himself to let
go of Oliver, and even ground his hips closer. "Maybe this is more'n you can
handle."
Oliver blushed, both embarrassed and aroused. "Yeah, I have," he said
earnestly, voice husky, lying desperately. "All the time. You're just a lot
older than..." His voice trailed off and squeezed Bill's arse again. "Don't
worry," he added, "I can handle this. I'm no' leaving." Not knowing what else
to do, knowing he didn't know how to suck cock yet, Oliver let go of Bill's
arse and reached between them to curl his hand around Bill's cock and started
to stroke him. Oliver knew how to wank, and thought it couldn't be much
different to wank someone else.
"Mmm..." Bill groaned, eyes at half mast as he thrust into Oliver's fist. He
didn't believe that Oliver knew what he was getting into, but if he was going
to reject Bill's half-arsed attempt at being noble... "Whatever you say, kid."
Bill cupped the back of Oliver's head and pulled him in for a kiss, sucking on
his lower lip, biting and licking before sliding his tongue into Oliver's
mouth, tasting whiskey and nerves. With his other hand, Bill copied Oliver,
stroking his hard and desperate cock, brushing his thumb over the head and
twisting his wrist on the upstroke. He kept pumping, over and over, knowing
that it probably wouldn't take much to get Oliver to come right now, and
knowing that it would make it easier for him to relax and enjoy the ride.
Oliver gasped into Bill's mouth, his own hand stuttering on Bill's cock as he
started to thrust into Bill's hand. "Fuck," he breathed, "I'm gonna..." He was
wrong, Oliver thought vaguely. Wanking someone else was a lot different, and
being pulled by another man was just bloody amazing. "God, Bill, I can't, I
can't -" Oliver cried out softly, pulling away from the kiss and biting his lip
as he came all over Bill's hand.
The look on Oliver's face when he came was enough to make Bill's stomach
clench, and to hide how affected he was by it, he absently lifted his come-
covered hand to his lips, licking it clean. On impulse, he stopped after the
first finger and pressed the rest against Oliver's slack mouth, thinking he'd
love to put something more substantial than a couple of fingers between those
kiss-swollen lips. "Clean me," he said in a low voice. "Unless you don't
swallow, which would be a pity, now wouldn't it?"
Opening his mouth, Oliver sucked Bill's fingers in, sliding his tongue between
them, over them. Oliver'd cleaned his own fingers once in awhile, it wasn't his
favorite taste, but it wasn't unfamiliar. Somehow, though, it was a lot better
with the taste of Bill's skin underneath it. He hummed softly, eyes drifting
almost shut, and moved his lips and tongue over Bill's hand.
"That's a good 'un," Bill said, the wet slide of Oliver's tongue between his
fingers giving him all sorts of ideas. He was tempted, sorely tempted, to skip
the rest of the play and get down to business; Oliver would be loose and
relaxed, easier to slick up in these few moments right after his orgasm. But
Bill remembered his first time, all fumbles and bad angles, and thought that at
the very least he could do this right for the kid, even if he was a piss-poor
liar. He started pushing his fingers into Oliver's mouth, pulling them back and
then pushing in again, curling his clean hand around Oliver's, urging him to
start stroking Bill's cock again. "Easy now," he growled. "Show me you can be a
good little cocksucker, Ollie, and we can play some more, yeah?"
Oliver smiled around Bill's fingers, giving the older man a heated look through
thick, short eyelashes. I'll be good, he thought. He felt good, and the urgency
was gone even though he was still half hard. Closing his eyes made it easier to
follow Bill's rhythm, stroking the hard length in his hand in time with the
fingers sliding in and out of his mouth. Oliver knew sucking Bill's fingers was
a lot easier than sucking his cock was going to be. He sealed his lips around
them and sucked, sliding his tongue under and between, determined to be the
best cocksucker Bill had ever picked up outside a club.
Bill moaned quietly, held a breath, and then let it shudder out as he pulled
his fingers free. "That's right," he said, voice thick with desire as he drew a
damp path down Oliver's chest. He almost pushed down on Oliver's shoulders,
almost suggested he try it out on the real thing, but then thought better of
it. The way this kid was throwing himself into everything, Bill was fairly sure
he might get dragged under along with Oliver and wind up spending himself in
that delicious and tempting mouth. And Bill had a much better place in mind.
"Get on the bed, Ollie. Face down."
Suddenly nervous, Oliver turned obediently and moved to the large bed. He
climbed up the centre of it from the bottom on hands and knees, head turned to
watch Bill as he did. God, Bill was beautiful. All lean lines and freckles with
that hair spilling over his shoulders. Oliver shuddered and lay down. This was
exactly what he'd wanted, and he refused to be afraid. Head resting on his
forearms, Oliver asked, "Coming?" in nearly the same tone Bill had used outside
the taxi.
"Absolutely," Bill said with a smirk, crawling over Oliver. But instead of just
getting down to things, Bill covered Oliver, his cock nestled between perfect
arsecheeks as he licked the curve of Oliver's ear. "Have patience, Ollie.
Relax." And then he bit the back of Oliver's neck, sucking and licking a path
down that muscled back, kissing once at the rising swell of Oliver's arse.
Knowing teenage boys weren't reknown for cleanliness, Bill smirked and cast a
silent and unobtrusive cleaning charm before he moved further down. Muggles
never noticed that charm, not when they were distracted right off with the
wicked things Bill could do with his tongue.
Oliver felt the tingle of magic but it was lost in the rush of pleasure he felt
at the slide of Bill's tongue over his body, down his back, between his cheeks.
He slid his legs open and turned his face into the bed, muffling the noises
that spilled from his throat in the bedding. Ohmygodohmygod, he thought, and
took a deep breath. Patience. Relax. Oh god.
Bill lifted his head and smirked. "Let me hear you," he purred, nipping once at
Oliver's cheek before ducking his head and sliding his tongue back down, a slow
and determined trail to Oliver's tense and puckered entrance. Holding Oliver's
cheeks apart with one hand, Bill circled the area, teasing, tasting, moaning
softly as he wormed the tip of his tongue inside.
"God!" Oliver pressed his forehead into his arms, lifting his mouth from the
bed and letting the noises out. His hips moved, slowly grinding against the
bed. "That's, unh, that's one of my favourite things," Oliver gasped. And it
was, now that Bill was doing it to him. Fuck, that was his tongue. Oliver
moaned again and fisted his hands in the bedspread.
Chuckling darkly, Bill pushed his tongue deeper. He was pretty certain it was
all Oliver's favourite right about now. Tongue moving down, pressing at the
skin behind Oliver's bollocks, Bill pressed against Oliver's entrance with one
fingertip, hard enough to create pressure but not to push in just yet.
Oliver opened his legs even wider and pressed back into Bill's finger.
"Please," Oliver growled. "That feels so good."
"What?" Bill asked, pushing in the tip of his finger, fighting off a groan at
how much he wanted more. "This?"
"Yeah, that," Oliver said. He pushed back again, trying to get more, shooting
Bill a challenging look over his shoulder. "Are you ever going to fuck me, or
are we just playing all night?" His tone matched the look, taunting Bill. Part
of him couldn't believe what he'd just said, was afraid Bill would chuck him
out, and he held his breath. The rest of him was slowly melting again under
Bill's hands, around his finger, the pleasure rising again and filling him toes
to crown.
Bill snorted in amusement and licked his way up, tongue moving side-to-side
around his finger, wetting it. "Rather pushy for a virgin, aren't you?" he
asked, and then before Oliver could protest, pushed his finger in deeper,
deeper, pressing and seeking, rubbing Oliver's prostate over and over.
Oliver cried out and writhed. "Holy fucking god," he muttered into the bed. He
threw his head back and worked himself on that finger. "Not pushy," he moaned,
and then realized what else Bill had said. "Not a virgin," he insisted. He
sucked in a shuddering breath. "Was just wondering," he said, voice breathy. "I
don't mind playing, not with you."
"We've got all night to play," Bill said. He pulled his finger free slowly and
stretched, opening the bedside table to grab the necessary accessories; lube,
of course, since Oliver was going to need plenty of it, and (Bill scowled)
condoms. Muggles always insisted on those little pieces of rubber that were far
less reliable than the charms that Wizards used, but that was most certainly
not a conversation for this moment. As he squeezed some of the lubricant onto
his hand, Bill dimly reflected that maybe he ought to start pulling blokes at
Wizarding establishments. At the very least he wouldn't run into schoolboys
there, since they were all off at Hogwarts at this time of year. But then
again, Bill thought as he rubbed one slick finger, pushing back into Oliver's
grasping heat, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen an arse like this
in any club, Muggle or Wizard.
"Isn't, ohhhh, isn't there a charm for that? Or is bottled stuff better?"
Oliver was holding on to rational thought by his fingernails almost literally;
his nails dug into his palms as Bill slowly fucked him with one finger.
Realising the question showed inexperience, Oliver quickly added, "Always used
charms before."
Charm? Bill paused, looking up at Oliver through narrowed eyes. "Have you now?"
he asked slowly, pulling his finger back and returning with a second, pressing
into Oliver more carefully than before, knowing how huge that second finger
could feel. It must be some Muggle slang I don't know, Bill rationalised.
"Yeah," Oliver said, and grunted with the stretch as Bill pushed in again. "My
old captain taught me a wicked one, does everything at once." At least, he'd
said it did, and Oliver had certainly felt loose and stretched and slicked when
he'd tried it on himself in his dorms last night. It was why he'd finally snuck
out and come to London. He'd felt so open and needed a cock inside him, was
sick of watching the other players out of the corner of his eye in the showers
after practice and not being able to touch or be touched. It was only two
fingers, and fuck. It was already better than he'd ever dreamed.
A wizard, then. Bill huffed in amusement; of all the chances that he'd pull a
wizard outside of a Muggle club... "I like being hands on, myself," he said,
voice almost a growl as he pushed his fingers deeper, curving them and
stretching Oliver a bit swifter. "Good at charms then?" he added, free hand
rubbing up Oliver's back in a slow caress.
Oliver mewled and rubbed his cock against the bedspread. "Not so much," he
panted. He was fighting to concentrate on Bill's words through the haze of
pleasure. "Only really good at quidditch. I love having your hands on me."
Oliver shifted to raise one knee up along his side, and moaned as the
instinctive move opened him up even more around Bill's fingers.
There was something about how Oliver phrased that that set off faint warning
bells in Bill's mind, but he was losing himself in the tight clasp around his
fingers, and all he could focus on was getting this young man stretched and
ready. He worked a third finger in, pushing and wiggling. Almost... he thought
with a low groan, cock twitching at the thought. Bill shifted to the side,
still slowly fingering Oliver as he kissed Oliver's back, his long hair
brushing the gleaming skin. "How about in you, Ollie?" he asked, pumping his
fingers in and out, gut tight with anticipation.
"Yeah," Oliver said, whined really. It almost hurt, he was stretched so wide,
and fuck, it felt absolutely brilliant. "On me, in me, oh god. And your
hair..." Oliver buried his face in the bedding, hips moving as Bill
fingerfucked him. His own hands worked the sheets in the same slow rhythm, the
pleasure rolling over him in waves. He wasn't going to come, not yet, but he
was getting there. "Bill," he breathed, "please."
"Easy..." Bill breathed, kissing up Oliver's back, his cock pressed against
Oliver's hip. "Soon enough, Ollie. You'll thank me later." He twisted his
fingers, tried to spread them. He could feel Oliver melting under his touch,
could feel his own restraint pushed to the breaking point. "Soon," he repeated,
voice going ragged with want.
"Now," Oliver begged, "I'm ready, fuck me please." He reached down to where he
could feel Bill's cock against his hip and curled his fingers around it, slowly
tugging in an awkward stroke. "I'll thank you later anyway," he mumbled.
There really was only so much a bloke could hold out, especially with Oliver
begging like that. "Roll over, Ollie," Bill groaned, pulling his fingers free
and wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking himself, spreading lubricant.
"Roll over and I'll fuck you."
Oliver rolled quickly, eager to feel Bill's cock where his fingers had just
been. He reached for Bill and slid his hands over Bill's chest as Bill settled
between his legs. He grinned up at Bill, unaware of how young the expression
made him look. "Thank you," he said, eyes dancing, the humour almost edging out
the lust and pleasure there.
"I'd wait until later to say that if I were you," Bill said, lifting Oliver's
legs and hooking them over his freckled shoulders. He should probably warn the
kid about how uncomfortable it could be, Bill knew, but instead, he just
scooted forward and turned his head to kiss the side of Oliver's knee.
"Remember to breathe, Ollie," he cautioned in a low voice, angling himself and
pushing in, the head of his cock slipping past slick and stretched muscles in
one slow, easy glide.
Oliver's mouth fell open on a gasp, neck arching, as Bill pushed slowly inside.
Breathe, he thought vaguely, and sucked in air. It hurt, more than he'd
expected it would, and he locked eyes with Bill desperately. His legs tensed,
toes curling. He'd wanted this, he reminded himself, and as he stared up at
Bill, at the intent concentration on that beautiful face, he realised he still
did, and he started to relax a little. "Oh god," he groaned, "holy fuck."
He should have stretched more, Bill thought, pausing halfway. If he'd needed
any more confirmation, the pain in Oliver's eyes, the way he was clenching
around Bill's cock fairly screamed Oliver's virginity. Bill took a deep breath,
trying to calm himself, scarcely remembering to hold still, and rubbed Oliver's
stomach slowly, soothing.
"Shh..." he rumbled, hands still caressing, distracting Oliver as best as he
could. "Breathe, Ollie. First time doesn't have to hurt if you relax. Just let
go, yeah?"
Oliver nodded and sucked in air again, eyes still focused intently on Bill's
face. Bill was so brilliantly gorgeous, and the feel of his hands smoothing
over Oliver's body was soothing him despite the wide stretch of muscles around
that really thick shaft. He felt himself slowly relax in small increments with
each deep breath, each pass of Bill's hands over his body. "S'okay," he finally
said, reaching for Bill, hands curling around his biceps on either side of his
own legs. "Please, I'm okay."
"Okay," Bill repeated, breathing through his mouth, a shaky inhale, and
twitched his hips back before going forward again, hands still moving gently
along Oliver's body, tracing his muscles. Dimly, Bill knew he ought to offer to
stop, give Oliver the out... but he didn't. He was lost already, surrounded by
Oliver, damn near desperate to give in to the urge to move. Deeper, deeper,
slowly he went, until finally his bollocks rested against Oliver's arse and he
was in. "Okay?"
"Okay," Oliver moaned. His hands slid up Bill's arms, curled over the balls of
Bill's shoulders. "Okay." Eyes fluttering shut, Oliver squeezed experimentally
on Bill's cock and groaned as need shivered up his spine and curled through his
brain. "Oh, wow. Wow. Oh my god."
Bill laughed breathlessly, grinning down at Oliver. "Gets better," he promised,
slowly grinding his hips. He rocked slowly and curled his hand around Oliver's
cock, stroking him back to hardness. He groaned, eyes at halfmast, barely able
to keep his movements easy for now. "Gets much better."
"Better?" Oliver's eyes flew open and a wide grin spread across his face. "It's
already better. Fuck, Bill..." Bill's hand on his cock was brilliant. Bill's
cock in his arse was brilliant. Bill was brilliant. "Almost as brilliant as
flying," Oliver murmured, mostly to himself. He tugged at Bill's shoulders.
"Kiss me. I want your tongue in my mouth."
"Almost?" Bill asked, laughing again, pressing forward and folding Oliver in
half as he licked at those tempting, smirking lips. The change in angle sent
him even deeper, and Bill groaned, his control slipping out of his grasp and
his hips jerking hard. Fuck, but Oliver was so goddamn tight, and the way he
was squeezing Bill's cock, the way he kept pulling Bill back in, again and
again. "Fuck," he panted, stroking the cock in his hand rougher.
Oliver cried out, the pleasure sharper and harder and more and almost too much.
It was filling him up, stretching him, too much to contain. It was going to
shatter him into pieces. "Almost," Oliver groaned, not even sure what he was
saying any more. It was like high tide coming in, slowly filling the loch.
Inexorable. "Bill?" Oliver could hear the strain, almost fear, in his voice.
This was nothing like wanking himself. It felt so good; Oliver was sure he
wouldn't survive it.
"S'okay," Bill grunted, thrusting harder. He'd been riding the edge for too
damn long, Oliver's intensity, the way he shattered so amazingly, it was
driving Bill mad. He was shaking, groaning, and too damn close to coming to
hold back anymore. "S'okay. Just. Let. Go." Each growled word was punctuated
with a hard thrust, and sweat broke out all over Bill, running down his long
nose, electricity shooting through him. Then the tension, coiled low around the
base of his spine, suddenly snapped, and Bill cried out, neck arching. "Fuck!
Sorry!"
Shuddering, still thrusting, Bill squeezed his hand around Oliver's cock,
pulling on him. He was coming, emptying into Oliver's hot, tight body, gasping
for breath and fairly sure he was dying, because he couldn't remember the last
time he'd felt like this, been broken so thoroughly.
"Oh my god," Oliver whispered. "Bill." Oliver hadn't thought Bill could get
more beautiful, but watching him as he broke, feeling him come, was the most
singular experience of Oliver's life. Knowing it was him who'd made Bill feel
like that, look like that, was more powerful than the hard tug on his cock.
Overwhelmed, Oliver let go, trusting Bill to catch him, the world going white
with sparks as he convulsed.
When Oliver came, squeezing so tightly around him, Bill gave a strangled sound
and twitched, his own aftershocks so strong it felt like he was coming again in
a few lazy spurts, wrapping his free arm under Oliver's shoulders, pulling him
close as he shook. With a bit of loose-limbed shifting, Bill managed to let
Oliver's legs slide away, kissing his neck lazily before rolling to the side,
groaning as his cock slipped free. "Fucking fast learner," he panted, heart
hammering and hands still petting weakly.
"Fucking brilliant teacher," Oliver mumbled, body still boneless and brain
complete mush. He laughed softly, giddy in the aftermath of pleasure. "S'it
always this good?" he asked, the rhythms of Scotland thick in his voice. He'd
completely forgotten his insistence that he did this sort of thing all the
time. He'd nearly forgotten his own name. He'd never forget Bill's, though.
Oliver stretched, sliding against Bill sensuously, and hummed softly. He felt
brilliant.
Bill laughed, a husky sound. "Sometimes," he said, although he couldn't
remember any other time being like this before, most likely owing to the fact
that he felt like his brains had melted and shot out of his cock only moments
before. He yawned hugely, wrapping his arms around Oliver and nosing in his
hair, the alcohol and spectacular sex taking their toll at last. "Fucking hell,
Ollie-boy, but I'm knackered as shite."
Oliver grinned. "Go to sleep, then," he said, settling himself comfortably in
Bill's arms and relaxing into him. "Regain your strength so you can fuck me
again." Truth was Oliver was wiped too, and couldn't keep his own eyes open any
longer. Fortunately, he didn't have to. It occurred to Oliver that no one else
had ever called him Ollie. He decided he liked it, when it was Bill.
Vague thoughts that it might be best if he sent Oliver on his way since he was
probably out too late already floating hazily in his head, Bill yawned again
and kissed whatever part was nearest. "Too much of a good thing..." he
murmured, drifting off into sleep slowly.
"No such thing," Oliver murmured back. Hesitantly, he rested his hand over
Bill's ribs and slowly stroked, blinking his eyes open just enough to watch his
tanned fingers smoothing over pale freckled skin. He smiled and closed his eyes
again, yawned, then fell asleep between one breath and the next.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Oliver woke just as suddenly as he'd fallen asleep the night before. He could
hear Bill's heart beating slowly and steadily under his ear, and he smiled.
Mine, he thought, then fuck!
Carefully, quietly, he summoned his wand from his jeans and performed the charm
that told him he was going to be severely late for practice if he didn't get
moving now. Dismissing the glowing numbers with a careless wave of his wand, he
eased away from Bill and dressed as fast as he could, t-shirt ending up on
inside out without his notice. He looked at Bill, still asleep in the bed, and
his expression softened. Oliver went back to the bed and sat, looking down at
Bill. "Thank you," he whispered, brushing the hair back from Bill's face, then
impulsively leaning in to lightly kiss Bill's temple. With a sigh, Oliver stood
and looked around for a piece of paper. He didn't see any in the dark, and was
really really late, so he used his wand to write a quick message in fiery
letters above the foot of the bed, where Bill wouldn't miss it.
Another long look at Bill, and Oliver Apparated out of the room with a crack,
already running toward the locker rooms as he landed just outside Hogwarts'
wards as close to the pitch as he could get.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Stretching, grinning in a self-satisfied manner, Bill rolled over in bed
sometime later, reaching for Oliver and finding cold sheets instead. A bit
surprised, but at the same time relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with an
awkward morning after, Bill flopped onto his back, scratching at the dried mess
on his stomach. He'd shower, he promised himself. Just as soon as he had enough
wakefulness to open his eyes and actually stand.
After a few moments, Bill opened his eyes, jumping slightly at the words
hovering over his head. It's later, the note read. Thank you.
Bill snorted and shook his head. At least the kid had been a polite little
wizard virgin.
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