Rating:
R
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Percy Weasley
Genres:
Romance Humor
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban
Stats:
Published: 09/13/2003
Updated: 09/13/2003
Words: 1,167
Chapters: 1
Hits: 5,487

An Oral Fixation

Abaddon

Story Summary:
There are many things which Percy Weasley is good at. This is one of them.

Posted:
09/13/2003
Hits:
5,487
Author's Note:
Thank you to Moonlight69 for the beta.


Sucking cock was not something Percy Weasley was born to do. He had no innate ability for it, he had to declare, and any prowess he gained at giving men (well, Oliver) oral pleasure was chiefly through a great deal of practice.

He was fortunate then, that Oliver gave him a lot of opportunity.

Percy could still remember the first time he had even made the attempt. He and Oliver had come back to their flat late one night, and after ostensibly settling down on the couch for a nightcap, Oliver had proceeded to kiss him senseless. Indeed, this was one of the few times in which Percy did not mind losing his wits. An untold time had passed, with snuggling, and kissing, and low murmured conversation, and Oliver's ready laugh bright in the air, and then Percy had made his move. Reaching down to Oliver's groin, he had begun to fondle and gently massage the bulge, and was somewhat surprised to find it already somewhat aroused, as if in anticipation.

It was not that Percy had fantasised about this for years: indeed, his thoughts of Oliver were more associated with emotions, such as warmth, comfort - or dare he say it, love - than any particular physical facet, although there was no denying that Oliver was handsome, as handsome as ever, especially in the half light of the room, and his voice could wash over Percy like a balm.

Yet, he did not feel he was doing this for himself. Rather, he was doing this for Oliver, for being such a good friend for all those many years. Even now that they were in that hazy undefined space of 'more-than-friends' Oliver had put up with him, held him, kept things slow, and kissed Percy more than he had to. For these reasons and more, Percy decided Oliver deserved thanks. And so he had prepared for this night, because if nothing else, it was simply something he would have to go through anyway, if Oliver was not to cast him off.

Percy prepared as much as he could. He was nothing if not an able researcher, and so he had delved into tomes that years ago would have driven him pale: Magical Gay Sex for Wizards, How To Really Polish His Wand, and of course, the immortal The Art of Riding Someone's Broomstick (and Score At The Same Time). There were, as Percy found, many potions he could use to enhance or prolong Oliver's enjoyment, as well as many various charms to grant him abilities and experience where he had none, but in the end, Percy decided to go au natural. This seemed in the end the most reliable method. A charm or potion could fail suddenly, or have undesired side effects, and besides, there was also the question of application. Percy wished to spare himself the embarrassment of having to suddenly hoist his wand mid-suck and garble out a few carefully chosen incantations. Besides, after reading the literature, he felt rather confident that he could at the very least make a decent go of it.

That night, he had been proved correct. Oliver had moaned appreciatively under Percy's lips and nimble tongue, the fingers of one hand digging into the armrest of the couch, the other curled softly in Percy's hair. Perhaps more surprising than his own success was Percy's realisation that it wasn't as distasteful as he imagined it to be. Certainly, there was the whole problem of conquering the gag reflex, but once that was out of the way, it was a relatively easy run. The mass buried between his lips was not unpleasant, nor was the discharge upon orgasm, and although Percy never became a cock-whore, he gained a typical gay man's enjoyment in giving head and tasting cock.

What more than made up for any displeasure he still had was the look on Oliver's face. Percy did indeed delight in the rather blissfully shell-shocked expression that Oliver assumed every time Percy gave him a blow-job: Oliver's eyelids fluttering, and mouth slack. But even better was the post-orgasmic haze when Oliver would hold him close and kiss him gently. He would look at Percy as if Percy meant something, and for a second Percy almost believed it.

So Percy kept giving Oliver head.

Over the weeks, in which their 'more-than-friendship' graduated to a full-blown courtship, and then official relationship status, Percy noticed that Oliver kept giving him That Look more and more. Even when Percy wasn't sucking him off, or later, after they made love. Well, it was fucking, but Percy didn't want to be uncouth, so he termed it 'making love,' and didn't quite know how to explain the bizarre fluttery sensation he got when he sometimes looked at Oliver.

One night, many many months after that first blow job, they were curled up in bed, Percy resting lightly in the crook of Oliver's arm, said arm curled up around him. It felt good to be there. It felt warm, and so Percy thought he should be polite and make recompense. He attempted to slide his way down Oliver's body, but Oliver stopped him, and Percy blushed and felt hurt. He could do this for Oliver. He knew it was a way of making Oliver happy, and yet Oliver was preventing him. Percy briefly wondered if he had lost whatever ability he had gained - or despite his attempts not to fall into cliché and mechanical repetition, to make it interesting every time, perhaps he had anyway. Perhaps he was no longer good at giving head - but then, how could he lose a gift he had never had in the first place?

Then he noticed that Oliver was chuckling, the fingers gently stroking his arm, and he was giving Percy That Look again, with those big, doe-like brown eyes of his, and Percy finally saw red. He uncurled Oliver's arm from around his body, and in a tight, all-too-controlled tone, demanded to know what right Oliver had to look at him like that, as if he meant everything.

And Oliver had looked at him, surprise mixed with a little bit of pain welling in the doe-like brown eyes, and Percy himself had been taken aback by the twinge in his own heart when he saw that there. Oliver had blinked, taking a few moments to formulate a response, and then he had simply said, "But you are everything to me, Perce," and bent his head to kiss Percy's hair softly, and gathered him up in his arms again.

Percy had nestled back, because he had been shocked by Oliver's response, and those arms seemed like home, and a place to think. He didn't get what Oliver saw in him, he realised. Perhaps he never would. But now at least, there was a new goal to aim for, and with Oliver's help he could at least attempt it.

For one thing, he now knew absolutely that he was good at blow jobs.