like a motherfucking stoner praetorius (stephanometra) wrote in hp_backtosmut,
like a motherfucking stoner praetorius

Gift for Aylaranzz!

Title: Kilts Are Amazing, Wondrous Things
Author: emiime
Recipient: aylaranzz
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: For aylaranzz, who requested voyeurism, boys in skirts (does a kilt count? I hope so!), wall!sex, oral, and fluff. Hope you like it! Thanks to S for the beta! Mod note: this came to me untitled, and I filled one in. I'm sure the sentiment is agreeable to most of you.


Oliver was wanking.

As Percy entered his flat, he heard the unmistakable slapping rhythm coupled with throaty moans coming from his bedroom. Setting down his case and hanging up his cloak, he moved silently across his flat to where the bedroom door was open just enough for him to peek through.

And there was Oliver, sprawled in the centre of the bed which, when Percy had left that morning, had been neatly made but which was now absolutely rumpled under Oliver's writhing form. Oliver's eyes were squeezed shut as he wanked frantically, his fist pumping hard on his cock, aided by the slick slide of his precome.

But in Percy's eye, the best part of all wasn't what Oliver was doing…it was what he was wearing. His best dress kilt, the plaid fabric draped around his broad thighs, and woollen hose tight around his calves, framing his naked cock beautifully. Percy could only stare, his mouth dropping open a little, as Oliver reached under his kilt with his free hand and trailed a fingertip lightly across his arsehole. Percy felt a groan rising in his throat and his cock rising in his pants, and he did his best to suppress the former and encourage the latter, swallowing hard and pressing his open palm to his trouser front. He bit his lower lip and sucked in a shallow breath as Oliver traced the pucker of his arsehole, scraping what Percy knew to be a rough and bitten fingernail across it.

Percy's breaths grew more and more ragged as he pressed his hand harder against his straining erection. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, shuddering with anticipation, and Oliver gave a choked cry and came, shooting sticky white fluid up onto his red plaid kilt.

Oliver's knees gave out, and his legs collapsed onto the bed, the kilt falling over his spent cock like the curtain at the end of a particularly erotic show.

Percy resisted his sudden, strange urge to applaud.

Instead he pushed the door open and cleared his throat as he took a single step into his bedroom.

Oliver only smiled lazily, his eyes still closed, one hand still hidden under his come-smeared kilt.

"I knew you were there," he murmured, his voice thick and sleepy. "Hoped you'd be home soon."

"But why are you here?" queried Percy, loosening his necktie.

"The party was dead boring. Old fat dull ex-players with nothing new to say. Got tired of dodging that shirtlifting Seeker from the Arrows, too."

Percy sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes. "Shipley?"

"He's the one."

"He's fit."

"Shut it."

Percy grinned. "But why did you come here? You knew I'd be working late tonight."

"Mmm. You work late every night."

"Well…" Percy had no response to that other than to admit the truth, so instead he unfastened his cufflinks and took off his shirt, draping it over the chair by the bed.

"I was thinking about you all night. Wanted you so badly," admitted Oliver, rolling onto his stomach and digging his chin into Percy's thigh. "Didn't think you'd be this late."

Percy shoved Oliver off his lap and stood, unbuttoning his grey wool trousers and tossing them on top of his discarded shirt. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood in front of Oliver's upturned face, clad only in his vest, pants, and socks.

"Maybe I've been thinking about you tonight, too."

Oliver grinned. "Maybe?"

"Perhaps." Percy stepped closer, his erection only inches from Oliver's face.

"Love it when you talk like that." And Oliver reached a wide hand to stroke Percy's cock through his pants, which were already damp with perspiration and spotted with precome.

"God, Oliver…" His huge, rough hands had always been one of Percy's favourite things about Oliver, most especially when they were running over various sensitive spots on Percy's skin.

Percy pushed forward, in desperate need of more contact, of skin on skin, silently damning the inventor of underthings, but Oliver pushed against him at the same time, moving off the bed, his strong, muscled frame besting Percy in their brief battle. He shoved Percy hard against the wall, and Percy didn't resist in the slightest, only thrust his erection forward as Oliver yanked his pants to his knees and surrounded Percy with his wet, wide mouth.

The closest thing to actual words that Percy could manage was something approximating "Nnnghhhhh…" which translated roughly to "Oh my god, Oliver David Wood, you will continue to suck my cock until I come down your throat if you have even the first idea of what is good for you."

And Oliver did, and Percy knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he did it because he had heard Percy's incoherent moans enough times that he knew precisely what the redhead meant.

Percy threaded his fingers through Oliver's coarse brown hair, tugging only a little as Oliver gripped his arse with his strong hands and trailed one rough finger over his hole. He allowed the smallest of whimpers to escape and thrust even harder into Oliver's willing mouth as Oliver's finger teased his hole, not quite dipping inside, and then the finger was gone, only to be replaced by something smaller and harder and—oh.

Oliver slipped his wand into Percy's arse and took his mouth from Percy's cock just long enough to whisper a lubrication spell, and Percy slammed his head back against the wall and gritted his teeth as Oliver's thick finger entered him. Oliver flicked his tongue over the vee just under the head of Percy's cock, and Percy exploded into Oliver's mouth, coming hard, keening and squeezing his eyes shut so hard he saw fireworks.

He slid down the wall, panting, sitting with his legs spread wide, and pulled Oliver into a tight embrace as the last waves of his orgasm subsided. He tugged Oliver close, and Oliver laid his head on Percy's shoulder. They stayed that way for quite some time, both breathing hard, until Oliver moved his head just enough so that he could press a kiss to Percy's throat.

"Mmm." Percy shifted, pressing against Oliver so he could see his face. He stared into Oliver's heavy-lidded brown eyes for a long moment, then smiled.


"Mmm?" His voice was sleepy again.

"Just move in with me."

Oliver gave a half-smile, then shifted his gaze away from Percy's. Percy took his face in both hands and turned him back.

"What? It's not as if I haven't asked you this a hundred times before."


"Just move in with me, Oliver." Percy pressed a kiss to Oliver's sweaty neck and pulled back again, waiting for an answer.

Oliver blinked.

Percy waited.

Oliver sighed.



"Okay, let's do it." Oliver smiled and ducked his head sheepishly, moving back into the embrace. Percy pressed his cheek to the top of Oliver's head and smiled stupidly, biting his lip to suppress a joyful laugh.

"And Oliver?"

"Yeah, Perce?"

"Bring the kilt with you when you come."


Feedback - it's what's for dinner!
Tags: oliver, percy, percy/oliver, slash

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.