Fic: Sweet Victory (Oliver/Harry; NC-17)
Feb. 28th, 2013 01:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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hpkinkfestTitle: Sweet Victory
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marianna_merlo
Prompt Number: 119
Kink Showcased: Underage/Age-Disparity
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Oliver Wood/Harry Potter
Summary: There is nothing Oliver wants more than to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor House, and he pins his hopes on Harry. But, is Harry on the same page?
Warnings/Content Notes: The storyline spans Harry’s first three years at Hogwarts. In his last year, when Harry is thirteen, Wood is seventeen. Also, there might be dub-con in places.
Word Count: 10,000
Author's Notes: Yes, I wrote my own prompt *hides* - but I just wanted this story written so badly! It was agitating and swirling around in my head, dying to come out. Thank youk8sfic and kedavranox for the wonderful betaing, and katelinmr for the britpick!
*Mods - could I get a harry/oliver pairing tag? :)
~*~
When I first saw Harry Potter, I thought, blimey, McGonagall got it right. Even as a first year, it was clear Harry had the ideal Seeker’s body. He was small enough to be light on a broom, but he wasn’t overly thin and wiry; there was potential for muscle. He wasn’t too tall for his age like the twins’ younger brother, so his arms and legs didn’t dangle awkwardly around a broomstick. The only thing that worried me were his glasses... the best Seekers traditionally had the best vision.
Though from what McGonagall said, he was a natural flyer, and I ached to see him on a broom. I became antsy just thinking about it, and I couldn’t sit still when McGonagall sent me back to class. My foot quickly tapped against the stone floor, the repetitive motion satisfying me a bit; but the professor was not pleased, nor was the girl sitting next to me who kept shooting me dirty looks. I rolled my eyes at her; bloody Ravenclaws, always so uptight in class.
But no matter; I was thrilled to show Harry the balls we used in the game. I showed him the Bludgers, the Quaffles, and the Golden Snitch. It made me warm, the way his eyes lit up - the brightest green I’d ever seen - as they followed the movement of the Snitch’s tiny, fluttering wings. I was suddenly flooded with appreciation for him and his natural interest in the game.
“Oliver?” he asked while helping me put the trunk away. Though really, I was carrying it, and he was just running along after me.
‘“Yes?”
“When did you first learn to fly?”
I liked him even better then. “When I was nine. My father brought home my first broom, and it’s been true love ever since.” A grin stretched my lips at the memory.
He sighed. “That’s brilliant. I wish I could’ve known how to fly when I was younger.”
He frowned just then, and a shadow passed over his face that I didn’t like.
“You know, Harry, I can already see that you’re really into this sport. I respect that about you.” His grin widened. Made me grin as well. “You’re a good lad, and I can tell that you’re gonna be a fantastic player.”
I thought the boy was going to jump up and kiss me. “Thanks, Oliver,” he said, cheeks flushed pink. He was cute, this Harry Potter. Really sweetly innocent. Everything he felt, I could see it on his face, and right now, he practically worshiped me.
In the weeks that passed, Harry proved to be a good player. He definitely pulled his weight, catching the Snitch about eleven out of thirteen times during practices. For a first year, he certainly surprised me.
We usually showered back at the Gryffindor tower, as the locker room showers were sketchy at best. Plus, no one wanted to shower anywhere there was a possibility Slytherins had been naked, so the general consensus was always to go back to the castle together after practice.
One particularly windy day, we got rather roughly tossed around on our brooms. I was sweating bollocks and desperate to sit under steaming water, but I stayed behind to chat with Harry about the upcoming game. We got to the showers after the the twins had already left. I took the stall next to Harry’s.
When I reached onto the shelf, my hand hit nothing but hard tile. “Bugger.” Clearing my throat, I prepared to yell. “Harry, mate, pass me your soap after you’re done.”
There was a moment of only the sound of water pattering down. “That’s a bit weird,” Harry finally said, his voice muffled behind the wall.
“Oh, come off it.” I rolled my eyes, smiling. “It’s just soap. I forgot mine.”
A pause and more pattering of water. “Well, fine, but I’m not getting out.”
The cheek. “All right, all right, I’m coming.”
The cold air stung my skin as I pulled back my curtain. Stepping onto the tile made my toes curl, and I winced, wishing I wasn’t such a forgetful knob and had remembered to bring my own damn soap.
I grabbed the curtain to Harry’s stall and roughly swung it aside, the rings screeching against the metal rod. Steam from his shower flooded out to greet me, and there, ensconced in the mist, was Harry.
My mouth nearly fell open.
His glasses were lying on the tile shelf, and I finally got an unobstructed view of his eyes. His dark hair was slicked around his face, though still obviously thick and messy - perfect for grabbing...
The skin of his arms, chest, and torso was pink, flushed from the heat. I glanced down at his cock for only a moment, catching a glimpse of his pink shaft resting against his small, neat balls. There was only a shadow of hair - a suggestion. Soft, he was not very big. Then again, he was only a first year.
I swallowed hard, my own cock feeling heavier by the second. Still, the cool draft against my back pulled me out of my trance - as did Harry’s words...
“I didn’t say you could barge in.” Even though he sounded a bit defensive, he didn’t look angry. In fact, he bit his bottom lip, cheeks pink in a way that I reckon didn’t have anything to do with the steam.
Mind dizzy with the effort to not look down, I could only hold out my hand and mutter, “Soap, please.”
He turned around to grab it off the shelf, and I nearly whimpered out loud. That arse. That small, round arse.
“Shit,” he yelled.
Then something miraculous happened: the bar of soap slipped. It slid onto the floor, and Harry - Harry, that amazing boy - bloody bent over to get it. My cock twitched and dribbled precome as a spasm of lust hit my stomach. His pert cheeks opened up, revealing his sweet little pucker - pink, and tight, and hairless.
Immediately, I was assaulted with the desire to grab his hips, bent over as he was now, and force my cock in. The wetness of the shower, the soap as lubricant, would feel so good, and he’d squeal like a little bitch toy as I fucked his arsehole - his tiny, pretty, sweet arsehole. I could just imagine his little virgin rim stretching around my big cock - my big-boy cock, fuck yes. Merlin, the noises he’d make... surprise... pleasure... helpless need. I could make him the horniest little boy...
“Here you are.” He was blinking, wet lashes sticking together around bright, green eyes.
I had to swallow again, though I hardly found my voice. “Thanks,” I grunted, gritty and dry.
As he handed me the soap, he glanced down, and his eyes widened twofold. Heh... he’d probably never seen a dick so big.
Without a word - because what could I even say? - I shut his curtain and stumbled back to my own stall, my cock bobbing up and down in front of me.
That was the first time I wanked over Harry, pulling myself off in the shower with frantic, rough strokes. After that, every practice was torture, because all I could think about was his arse. Even if he weren’t such a good player, I think I would have kept him on the team all year anyway, if only to ogle that cute, little body and be greeted with that bright smile.
I followed that smile into the shower again a week later, even though I told myself I wouldn’t. Harry was a first year, and I couldn’t bloody well go around perving on first years, could I? But after he caught the Snitch in that first game against Slytherin, I wanted him badly. He came up to me after practice one day and started chatting about how much he loved being on the team, I just nodded and grinned like a loon, and I soon found myself in the bathroom right behind him.
I watched as he gripped the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it up, revealing his smooth stomach and a hint of navel, when he paused. “Oh, bugger.” Sadly, he let his shirt fall back into place, and he turned towards the door. “We forgot towels and everything.”
“I’ll run up and get yours and mine,” I offered. “You just hop into the shower, and I’ll be right back.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“No problem.”
“Wow, cheers, Oliver. Ask Ron, he’ll know where my things are.”
I practically skipped from the bathroom and up the steps to the boys’ rooms, imagining Harry naked and wet under the spray and me having an excuse to open the curtain and hand him his shampoo.
Weasley was helpful and surprisingly knowledgeable about where Harry kept his towel and soap. I grabbed whatever he handed me with a quick thanks, flew to my own room to get mine, and then back down to the showers.
The sound of the spray greeted me, steam curling over the curtain of Harry’s stall. I was instantly glad we were, once again, alone.
I laid the items on a bench, and I continued to watch Harry’s stall as I undressed. The pattering of the spray was the only sound in the quiet room.
“Oliver?”
I opened my mouth to respond and realized I needed to clear my throat. “Erhm... Yes.”
A relieved sigh was barely audible over the water. “Find everything?”
“Yes. Fine.” I swallowed as I pulled down my pants and kicked them away, imagining him naked behind that curtain... under the water. Grabbing his soap and shampoo, I walked to his stall. I didn’t even ask before ripping open the curtain.
He jumped, his mouth forming a circle. “Oh...”
Rivulets of water streamed over his chest and stomach, dripping off the peaks of his nipples and into the dip of his navel. The sight sent my blood south. What made my cock twitch, however, was seeing him pull his hand away from his groin. He’d been touching himself.
I grinned, holding up the soap. “Might need this.”
His cheeks turned pink, and he looked at the items with a shy smile. “Oh, yeah... thanks.” He reached out his hand, but I didn’t give him his things. Instead, my heart beating fast, I stepped over the threshold of the stall. His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Just putting this stuff here.” I set the soap and shampoo down on the tile shelf and turned to him. “Want some help, there?” I asked, nodding down at his prick.
He stammered, his mouth hanging open, and his hands flew to cover himself. “I... I wasn’t...”
“It’s okay, Harry.” I stepped closer to him, and he moved away, but all I did was reach over and pull the curtain closed again. I made sure not to touch him at all. “We all do it; all of us blokes. It’s normal, you know. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
He set his jaw and looked me in the eye, although his face was still pink. “I’m not ashamed,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Then why’d you stop?”
We stared at each other in silence. The hot water splashed against my back, running over my arse. It was hard to draw a breath in all that steam, and I started wishing I hadn’t closed the curtain...
Harry’s hand moved back to his prick, gingerly taking his shaft between his fingers and holding it loosely in his palm. He looked at me questioningly, a worried crease between his eyebrows. “Do you do it?”
An uncontrolled grin broke over my face. “Course I do.” I grabbed my own cock, more purposefully, and began to stroke it lightly. “Haven’t you ever touched yourself before?”
His cheeks turned an even stronger shade of pink. “Sometimes... I thought I was the only one.”
“Blimey, Harry! No way are you the only one. Mark my words - every bloke wanks.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile before he bit his lip. “I was a bit ashamed.” I couldn’t help but silently laugh, chuckling to myself. He was adorably innocent. “I always manage to stop though...”
“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Surely, my eyebrows had risen into my hair. “Harry, please don’t tell me... No. Can’t be.”
He lowered his chin and pulled away, as if he were preparing to be hit in the face. “What?”
“You stop yourself from coming?” He said nothing, only blinked. “You’ve never got off before?”
“What do you mean?”
“Harry, if you have never come, then we have a major problem.” He swallowed. “How could you have never wanked?”
“At my aunt and uncle’s, I never had any privacy... and... and it would be so embarrassing if they heard me... And here, there are always people around...”
“Stop.” I help up my hand, and he set his lips together. “Take a breath, and listen to me very closely: There is nothing wrong with wanking. In fact, it’s good for you.”
“What if someone heard?”
“That’s what silencing spells are for... Merlin!”
He swallowed. “Could you... could you show me?”
“Sure I can. It’s a bloody simple spell - just an easy flick of the wrist - ”
“No. I mean...” He bit his lip again, and a strange feeling rose in my chest. “Can you show me how to... touch myself. Properly?”
I was suddenly lightheaded, and I leaned over once more to open the curtain. The rush of fresh air was such a relief, and I breathed in deeply. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry shiver.
“Get under the water,” I said.
He immediately moved under the spray, looking eager and wide-eyed.
“Grab hold of your prick,” I directed, doing so myself. He did the same, holding it up, and I could see the pink head poking out through his clenched fist. “Squeeze it a bit.”
He did, and his eyelids fluttered and his mouth parted. Tingles of pleasure rushed through me, and I sighed at the look on his face.
“Feel good?”
He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Now, stroke up and down, making sure to squeeze a bit as you do so. You don’t want to chafe your palm against your foreskin.” I watched the expressions on his face as he stroked, feeling the heat building inside me. I started grunting as my hips pushed my cock through my fist; I couldn’t help it. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Mmm...” He took deep breaths, his eyelids drooping even as he looked at me. His neck and chest were flushed as pink as his face. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“It feels so good,” he said brokenly, ending in a whimper.
I couldn’t even stop myself; the words flew out of me. “Do you like touching yourself, Harry?”
His mouth hung open now, panting. “Yes,” he breathed as he jerked his hips.
“Keep touching yourself.”
“Yes...” He clenched his eyes shut, and his mouth fell open. He was close...
“Oh, yes.” I fisted myself frantically, trying to keep up. “Just let yourself go, Harry. Keep stroking, that’s a good boy.”
“Oliver!” It sounded like a plea. “I’m gonna...”
“Yes, Harry, come.” I wanted to see his little cock spurt.
“Oh!” With a strangled cry, Harry bucked his hips and squeezed his prick one more time, and streaming the tile with his come.
“Oh, fuck.” My eyes shut, and a broken sound escaped me. It was a glorious few seconds of coming, the sight of Harry’s first little orgasm spurring me to new heights.
When I opened my eyes again, he was still breathing hard.
I grinned, catching my own breath. “Good work, mate.”
Next practice, Harry was the first one on the grounds. I was standing at the edge of the pitch, and he bounded up to me, practically skipping. My stomach sort of twisted watching him approach, all excited and eager.
“Hey, Oliver.” His grin stretched across his entire face. “How are you?”
“Good, Harry. And yourself?”
“Brilliant.” His face lit up when he looked at me, and my chest tightened. I felt something like guilt, although I didn’t know what for.
“Ready for practice?”
“Course. I love practice. Always look forward to it after lessons and being cooped up inside all day.”
We walked to the middle of the pitch, brooms slung over our shoulders. Thankfully, the twins showed up just then, and their chattiness distracted Harry from being any more clingy.
Until after practice...
“I’ll help you bring these back.” Harry picked up the trunk with the balls.
“No need. Go shower and relax.” I tried to take it from him, wrapping my fingers around his in the hoops on the side of the trunk.
“No bother.” Before I could stop him, he pulled away, running toward the broom shed.
I growled and tore off after him. He was leaning the trunk against the shed, trying to get the door open, and I rolled my eyes and reached out for the handle. “Here you go,” I said, opening the door. He looked at me like I’d just given him a lifetime’s supply of Chocolate Frogs. “Well? Go on.” I nodded at the doorway.
“Thanks.” When he was a few steps inside, he dropped the trunk on the floor and paused. With his hands clasped behind his back, his fingers twisting together nervously, he turned, biting his lip. “Oliver?”
“Yes?”
He came forward, standing in front of me and looking up through his lashes. “Do you think you can show me... how to do that... thing again?”
My lips twitched. “Again?” He nodded. “Really? You’re up for it?”
“Yeah, sure. I tried it last night by myself...” He looked away, smiling, and I pictured him in bed, touching his prick and moaning quietly, desperately. Bloody hell, it was hot, and it sent shivers down my spine. “But it was so much better with you.”
“Well.” I crossed my arms. “I didn’t think you’d want another go.”
“Of course I do,” he insisted, raising his eyebrows.
“All right, then. Off with your clothes.” I stood there watching him stumble out of his clothes. “No need to rush.” However, he was naked in no time. His prick was already pink and bobbing.
His eyes roamed my body. “Are you not going to do it, too?”
“No, Harry.” I shook my head. “I want to watch you.”
A blush spread over his cheeks, and he dipped his chin. With a nod, he began stroking himself.
I felt hot all over, and my cock bulged against my trousers, but I didn’t touch myself. It was better this way, watching him naked and wanking just for me.
“Pull the foreskin over the head,” I instructed, my voice coming out thickly.
He whimpered as he did it, closing his eyes.
Shifting onto my other leg, I swallowed. “How does it feel?”
The desperation in his voice nearly killed me. “Really good, Oliver.”
Oh, fuck, my cock twitched violently, and I had to adjust myself. The moment my hand touched my groin, I couldn’t let go, and I continued to rub myself over my trousers, pushing the heel of my palm along the outline of my shaft. “Want me to teach you something new?”
His eyelids fluttered open, his breath ragged. “Okay.”
“Have you ever touched your balls?” He nodded, his other hand flying to cover his bollocks. “Squeezed them?”
A little, breathy laugh escaped him, and he squeezed. “Oh...” His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his other hand started to stroke faster.
“You like touching yourself, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Mm...”
“Reach further behind - you’ll like that, too.”
His fingers traveled lower, disappearing behind his sack. “Back here?” His brow creased.
I inhaled through my nostrils, rubbing faster. “Just... a little farther back.”
When he gasped, his eyes snapping open, I knew he’d touched it. He pulled his hand back, stopped wanking, and blushed even more fervently. “But... but... that’s my...”
“Your arsehole.”
That shy, nervous laughter bubbled up in him again. “Yeah.”
“It feels good to touch it. Trust me.” I could see him fighting himself internally; it showed in his eyes. “Have I steered you wrong before?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Back there?”
“Positive. You’ll love it.” Tentatively, he reached behind himself, but I realized I wanted something else. “Turn around.”
A frightened look passed over his face. “But, then you’ll see...”
“Fuck, yeah,” I breathed, giving in and unzipping my trousers, and pulling out my aching cock.
As he considered it, his face scrunched up in uncertainty. Was he embarrassed knowing I would look there? I hoped he was turned on by the idea, but equally ashamed. The thought had me pumping hard into my fist; I loved making him feel slutty.
Maybe he decided he liked it, too, because he turned.
“Spread your legs a bit, and bend over.” I pointed to a stack of crates holding extra quaffles, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Lean against there... that’s right. Oh, fuck...”
When he leaned over, one hand on a crate to hold him steady, his arse cheeks parted. I had a perfect view of his hole. It was wrinkled and tiny, and impossibly tight-looking. I wanted to see him struggle to open it up.
“Reach back... that’s it... and feel for your hole. There it is. Do you feel it?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice barely audible. His thighs trembled, whether from embarrassment or lust, I couldn’t tell.
I started moving my foreskin up and down my shaft. “How does it feel, Harry?”
“Er...” His finger gingerly touched the furrowed skin of his hole, as though if he pressed any harder, he would break himself. “Weird.”
“Describe it.” I all but growled.
“Uhm... it’s soft. I’ve never touched back here before.”
I groaned, wanking myself harder. “Why not, Harry?”
“It’s sort of... dirty, isn’t it?”
“Not at all, Harry. Everyone does it.”
“They do?”
“Sure. Now... lick your finger, and push it in.”
I heard a small gasp. “In?”
“Yeah, inside. Do it, now.”
His finger disappeared for an instant as he brought it to his mouth, and it returned all shiny. He found his hole again, places his finger on the pink entrance, and pressed against it.
“Push it in.”
He pushed, and, as his fingertip breached the rim, he gasped. “It’s strange, Oliver.”
“Push harder.”
“It’s hard.”
“Do it.” I squeezed the base of my shaft to slow myself down. “Want me to do it?”
“Er...”
I stepped forward and took his hand in mine. With a firm grip on his wrist, I pushed his own finger deeper inside himself. He inhaled sharply.
“It stings.”
“But it feels good, too. Relax and feel it.”
As his breathing became more steady, I pulled his finger in and out, fucking him with it. He was so bloody tight, it wouldn’t go in all the way. He was all nerves, his body stiff and rigid.
Without a thought, I reached my other hand around and grabbed his prick, making him jump back against my chest.
“You keep fingering yourself,” I whispered into his hair.
Soon, he was huffing and whimpering, moving his hips back and forth in the rhythm I was wanking him. He was so much smaller than me, and his entire prick fit in my palm. It was easy to play with - easy to torture him by pinching the foreskin over his head on every stroke.
When he pushed forward, he drove himself into my fist, and when he pushed back, he impaled himself on his finger. I rubbed my cock against his body wherever it touched, using the other hand to steady him by the waist.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“Oliver...” He panted. “I feel... I feel so good.”
“Yeah, Harry. It feels good to touch your arsehole, doesn’t it?”
He whimpered, clenching his eyes shut. I could tell the word arsehole embarrassed him - forced him to face what he was doing - and I felt my balls draw up.
Grinning, I leaned into his ear. “You like playing with your arsehole, Harry.”
“No...” His hips jerked forward, and I felt warm come against my palm.
I came after him, spurting his arse with come. When I let him go, he sagged over the crate. As I tucked my cock away, I watched my come slide onto the back of his thigh. His rim was bright pink.
It was obvious we’d gone too far this time. Although he was still polite as ever, still chatted with me about Quidditch, and still tried his very best at practices, Harry quit his clinging. In a way, I was relieved. But we didn’t wank together again that year. As the days passed, Harry seemed preoccupied with something else, and he was always sneaking around the castle with his two little mates. It wasn’t until next year that we so much as touched again...
~*~
The morning after the Slytherin match, I allowed myself the rare luxury of a lie-in. There was a chill in the air, so I wrapped my red Quidditch robes more tightly around myself. In my opinion, there was something truly satisfying about sleeping in winning Quidditch robes, and I sighed as I shifted in bed.
The robes were wrinkled and smelled faintly of grass, but at least they weren’t mud-splattered, so I figured I could wear them to bed. They were a symbol of yesterday’s victory, and I wanted them as close to my body as possible. I had nothing on underneath, and the thick, rough cotton scratched my chest, my thighs, and the sensitive skin of my prick. I groaned into my pillow as my cock awoke with a violent twitch.
Daylight flooded through the open window; the breeze ruffled my hair and nipped my face. For a moment, I considered drawing the bed curtains, but my shivers stirred the fabric and caressed my cock. Slowly, my mouth stretching into a private smile, I gave in and rutted hard against the inside of my robes. Blood rushed south, and my precome soaked the fabric. The entire area was soon wet and warm, and impossible not to rub against.
I fucked the mattress until it creaked, and I grunted into my pillow through clenched teeth. With the cool air rushing in, I could imagine I were flying. I came with the vision of yesterday’s win vivid in my mind.
When I finally emerged from my room feeling sated and extremely well-rested, the first person I met was Harry; he was climbing the stairs as I descended them.
I grinned widely. “Hallo, my brilliant Seeker.”
His eyebrows lifted upon seeing me, his lips thinning. “Where were you?”
“What do you mean, where was I?” I frowned, sensing the tenseness about him. “Something wrong?”
“I spent the night in the hospital wing. Whole team was there, but you weren’t.”
“Bloody hell, Harry!” I ignored the voice in my head saying, you bloody well knew that, Wood. “You all right?”
A sharp laugh escaped him, and then a sound like a huff. “I’m fine, Oliver. Don’t worry about me.” Shaking his head, he made to move past me.
I extended my arm across the corridor to block him, and he bumped against it. He was so close to me, I could smell the scent of freshly cut grass - my senses instantly brought me back to yesterday’s game, and I inhaled sharply through my nose. Leaning forward, I looked into his eyes, almost touching our foreheads.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “What happened?”
He didn’t move away, but his eyes shone with an intensity that was so unique to Harry. “I broke my arm, remember?” His jaw was tight, but I wasn’t put off by his bitterness. Rather, I found it endearing coming from a twelve-year-old. The smooth fullness of his cheek was still boyish, and his lips were still pouty and young. One of my biggest impressions of Harry was how sweet and expressive his face was; how his eyes gave away everything behind them.
“Ah.” I nodded, and our fringe brushed. “I thought Lockhart fixed that.”
Harry snorted. “Bloody blew my bones right out of my arm. Didn’t you see that yesterday, when I was lying on the ground in agony?”
I frowned. “I didn’t notice. I just remember them announcing we’d won, and being fucking ecstatic.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but I fell off my broom, if you’d care to remember.”
I stayed my ground, looking him dead in the eye. “Are you upset with me?”
Harry swallowed, and his full lips parted into a sigh. “No, it’s all right.”
“Don’t lie to me, Harry. It’s okay if you’re upset.”
“Well, then...” He bit his lip, hesitating. “Yeah, I am. Everyone else came to see me except you.” A pink flush crept over his cheeks. “But like I said, don’t think on it - ”
“Harry, I’m sorry.” I grabbed his small chin in my hand, and he flinched for a moment before his shoulders relaxed. He let me tilt his head back, my thumb resting just below the curve of his mouth. “I got distracted, which I never should have done. You are the main priority on this team, and I care about your well-being.”
He looked down, his eyelashes fanning out, and he squirmed a bit. I moved my hand to hold his face more tightly, spreading my palm against his cheek. There was something about the way he looked up at me, his eyes sparkling like the first day I met him, that made my pulse jump.
He blushed, the color spreading under my thumb so that I instinctively caressed his cheek. His voice was shaky, and he tried to shake his head. “You think I’m so important - ”
“You are,” I insisted, because he didn’t seem to believe it. He wasn’t aware how important he was to me. I couldn’t lose Harry Potter. “If you’d been badly hurt, how do you think I’d feel?”
He stood a step below me, so his mouth naturally tilted up when he looked at me. I lowered one foot to his step, bringing our bodies flush together. I still had to lean down.
“I can’t lose my Seeker.” Before I knew what I was doing, my lips touched his, and my entire body flushed with heat. His mouth was so soft, I pulled back only to press against it again, to feel his plush lips. He inhaled through his nose; I felt his entire chest fill. When I pulled away, his eyes were still shut and his lips still poised, searching for mine.
It would be a shame to ignore an invitation like that, so I leaned forward again just as his eyes began to flutter open. This time, I placed a hand on his back to pull him closer, and, to my surprise and amusement, he gripped me by the waist with a strength I would never have expected.
This time, I sucked lightly on his lips. I didn’t pull away until he did, and I smirked at his pink face.
His mouth was hanging slack as he tried to form words. “What... what was that? Why did you...”
“You did it right back.” I winked and grinned at him, darting around him to climb briskly down the stairs.
What I learned about Harry Potter after that was this: the boy was a winner.
What made him a winner, more than anything else, was his determination. While the twins joked around, beating Bludgers between one another for fun, and the girls gossiped in the air, floating on their brooms like a flock of chirpy sparrows, Harry stayed focused.
I could spot him flying high above the rest, circling the field. His face was hard, brow furrowed in concentration. Always looking for the prize - eyes poised for the Snitch.
Evidently, he applied that same determination in all things.
“Oliver!”
I halted on my way back to the castle and turned around. After blocking Quaffles for an hour, my muscles ached. “Yeah, Harry?”
He jogged to meet me, and we stalled on the pitch until the rest of the team shuffled past us. They were joking and laughing together, and Harry looked over my shoulder, watching them get further away. I could tell he was waiting for their voices to drift off...
“That was a great practice.” He was breathless, although he’d stopped jogging for a few minutes now. There was a flush on his cheeks and a coyness in the way he looked at me.
“I reckon it was.” I nodded in agreement, throwing my broom over my shoulder. “You did really great.”
He dipped his chin, smiling uncertainly. “Yeah?”
“Caught the Snitch a fair amount of times.”
His grin widened. “I tried.”
“You’re gonna be brilliant in the game, Harry.”
His shoulders sagged as though he were suddenly relieved. “I’m glad to hear you think so.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“Not sure.” He shrugged and stepped closer, licking his lips. My eyes were drawn to them, and my cock twitched at the memory of how they felt. “It’s nice to hear it from you.”
“Why’s that?”
I’ve never had someone so much younger be so aggressive toward me before. He stepped into my personal space, and I smelled the fresh sweat on his uniform.
“Because I want you to have faith in me.”
“I do...”
His head was tilting back; he had to slightly lean up to get closer.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his full lips, and I felt my blood pumping to my cock as I breathed, “But you shouldn’t put so much faith in me... ”
His lips cut me off, sliding against mine awkwardly, because he was about half a head shorter than me. I had no choice but to grab him by the front of his t-shirt.
As our lips pressed together, he wrapped his hands around my neck in a way that would have made me cringe if the kiss weren’t so silky and good. All I could register was the warmth of his body as he pressed against me - the heat from his tongue when he parted his lips.
There was also something about him being so young and yet so domineering. I was supposed to be his superior, his captain, his model, surpassing him in age and experience... but he had me by the neck and waist, and pulled me down to meet him.
It was like that all year. Stolen kisses after practices, small gropes in the dark shed or on the staircase where no one could see us. The beginning of the year passed in a swirl of rushed handjobs and snogging. Then the Chamber of Secrets opened, and our meetings tapered off until we forgot to meet at all.
~*~
My last year at Hogwarts, I hopped off the train with one thing on my mind. I knew I had to win the House Cup. This year was my last chance to prove myself as captain, and I knew damn well how important this was if I wanted a chance at a national team.
That is, until I saw Harry that first practice, and I nearly dropped the Quaffle in my hand. It was like all the blood rushed to my cock in that half a second it took me to look him up and down. I think it was the way he sauntered up to the group of us - late, too, for fuck’s sake - like he really didn’t want to be there.
“Oi, Harry,” I called. “Got something better to do, have yeh? Can’t be arsed to get to practice on time?”
It looked like he was about to roll his eyes, and that’s when I noticed the rigidness of his jaw, the hard lines when he clenched it.
“Leave him alone, Oliver,” Fred said, walking up to Harry and placing a hand on his shoulder, as if he needed protecting. “It’s only the first practice. Are you going mad already?”
Harry’s eyes flashed to me so sharply, I felt nearly more winded than my first lift on a broom. Easily, and more fluidly than I’d ever seen him move, Harry shrugged Fred off, stepping away from him. I watched Fred’s hand slide from his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” Harry mumbled.
Moody bugger. So this was how it was going to be this year, eh? Bloody third years...
I narrowed my eyes at the lot of them. “All the more reason to be on time! This is our last year, and our last chance at the Cup.”
Fred grinned. “You mean your last year?”
Practice went more or less smoothly after Harry’s grand entrance, with me shouting instructions that nobody bothered to pay attention to. Less smoothly because Harry was still being a moody fucker. He had a perpetual scowl on his face as he looked for the Snitch. I could tell his heart wasn’t as into it as usual. He soared around the pitch lazily, and he didn’t look at me once.
I shrugged it off at first, telling myself I couldn’t be arsed how Harry felt about practice, but I found I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. What was worse, I was noticing things I shouldn’t have been. Like, he was lovely to look at on a broom. Not that I’d ever forgot the sweetness of his body, not since those times in the showers, nearly two years ago - but like I said before, this year, he was different. Lean muscle replaced soft lines. He carried himself straighter. He was more aloof; more indifferent to me. It fucking set me on fire.
“Harry,” I called after practice finished and we’d landed. The sun was low in the sky, about to set, and it cast an orange glow across him that made him seem to gleam. In that moment, I knew... This time would be different.
“Yeah?” He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Fuck, he was beautiful, with his dark brows and hair and lashes... and lips.
I kicked the trunk once. “Bring it over to the shed.”
“What? I can’t, I promised Ron - ”
“Move it, Potter.” I turned and marched in the direction of the broom shed, smirking as I caught sight of him leaning down to grab the trunk. He mumbled something under his breath, probably miffed I’d singled him out. But I’m still the bloody captain, and he’ll do what I tell him.
The shed was dark, but I didn’t light any sconces. I liked it shadowy. Harry strode past me as I leaned on the door, holding it open with my shoulder.
There was a thump as he dumped the trunk on the floor. “Right.” He turned on his heel. “See you - ”
I took a step forward, letting the door slowly swing shut behind me, eliminating the sunshine in the room. The only light now came from the pale rays that streamed in through the ancient window, which was dulled by a layer of dust.
His eyes widened a fraction, dilating in the dark. “What?”
In two easy steps, I moved closer and grabbed him by the waist. His body was warm under my hands. It sent a jolt to my cock as I realized how much I wanted him. He was not so little anymore, and the look and feel of his body drove me mad.
He tried to wriggle away, pushing against my biceps to maintain some distance. “Listen, I don’t think this can go on - ”
“Don’t say it.”
He inhaled sharply, his chest pressing against mine. His grip tightened around my arm, holding onto the muscles there. Even though he was putting on a show of protest, his fingers squeezed, and his thumbs stroked. I could tell he was just as turned on as I was by the way his hands lingered and his breath caught.
My throat felt dry and scratchy. “Harry, I want you.”
A small gasp escaped him. “Fuck...” His eyelids began to droop, and the stiffness left him as he started to relax in my arms. “I wasn’t going to do this...”
“Why the fuck not?” My hands roamed to the small of his back, down to his arse. I grabbed it tightly in each palm, making him gasp again and push his hips back. “So hot, Harry.”
A soft grunt escaped him from low in his throat. “I’ve always wanted to.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“I’ve imagined fucking you so many bloody times.”
He moaned and jumped at my mouth with so much force, I stumbled backwards. He herded me against the wall, and I fell onto a crate while he stood between my parted legs, tilting my head back with a tight grip in my hair.
We snogged fiercely, tongues sliding against each other, until it was hard to breathe. I couldn’t keep my hands off his arse, squeezing and playing with it through his jeans. Breathing hard into my mouth, he climbed on top of me and sat on my lap, grinding his hips into mine. My erection throbbed, so I let go of his arse and began to undo my zipper. The sound was loud in the room, which was otherwise silent except for our heavy breathing. Harry stopped moving, arms still wrapped around my neck. His whole body tensed as he looked down, eyes widening.
A smile pulled my lips, and I teasingly waved my cock. “Do you like it?” He inhaled harshly, and I could see his chest rising and falling. Licking my lips, I squeezed the head between my thumb and forefinger, pulling the foreskin up and covering the tip. A whimper escaped from the back of my throat as warm precome soaked my thumb. “I think you want it, Harry.”
He hesitated, so I took his hand off my shoulder, brought it down, and placed his fingers on my cock. His fingertips grazed my skin with the lightest touch, sending shivers through me.
When I let go of his hand, he kept it where it was. Slowly, he dragged the pads of his fingers down the length of my shaft. I couldn’t tell if he was experimenting or teasing me, but, either way, I sighed heavily at the tingles of pleasure he created.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” I said raggedly.
He swallowed, nodding his head minutely and leaning down to press our mouths together. The kiss was so familiar, I relaxed into it, opening my mouth to take him deeper. Our tongues slid against one another, and I groaned, remembering this taste.
Pulling away, our lips smacking together, I brought a finger up to his mouth instead. “Suck,” I instructed, touching my fingertip to his wet bottom lip.
He looked at me, and I was again struck by the intensity of those fucking green eyes. His tongue peeked out and touched my finger, and I shivered at the wetness and warmth. How had I never asked him to suck me off? That tongue was brilliant, sliding over my finger and sucking it into his mouth. He looked down, his lips pursed in a circle, soaking my finger with globs of spit, going straight to my leaking cock. It seemed Harry knew where my finger was going.
I pulled my finger out and reached behind him, and he lifted his arse. I felt around for his hole with my dry hand, and I touched upon the soft and silky skin. His breath hitched when I traced the length of his crack, and I brought my wet finger against his wrinkled entrance.
He was so fucking warm... and tight. The thought of putting my cock in there was breathtaking, and I drove my finger in impatiently, wanting to finish stretching him so I could finally fuck him. He was so pliant in my arms, so soft and giving. I felt the press of his lips against my ear, my jaw, my neck, my lips... until I leaned over his shoulder and rested my chin there. He hugged me tightly around the neck.
“You scared?” I asked, wondering if that might be why he was so touchy feely.
“No. Do it. I want you.”
I pressed my finger into him, and his whole body quivered in my arms. “Push back onto it.” He steadied himself, then pushed, and I felt his arse stretch around my finger. I twisted it, pushing it in and out. “Yeah, Harry, you feel amazing.” He grunted against my ear.
After a bit, I added a second, forcing it in next to the first. He whimpered, tightening his hold on me, and I rubbed his back to try to get him to relax. The feel of his silky skin only made me want him more.
I pulled my fingers out and reached between his legs to grab my cock, lining it up with his hole. His scent and his weight on top of me was intoxicating - it was the smell of come and sweat mingling with the heat of both our bodies to create a lusty need inside me. I pushed my hips up experimentally, testing how far I could breach him in one go.
“Ahh.” I threw my head back, mouth open, hardly breathing. The tightness was incredible. My fingers gripped his waist so hard, I knew I would leave bruises, but I needed to steady him or I’d push too far and come to quickly. It was a slow grind, with him lifting his arse up and sliding it down at his own pace.
Soon, he was bouncing up and down in my lap. I massaged the small of his back, tracing my palm along the curve of his spine and feeling it move. Our groans and pants filled the small shed. My bollocks tightened, pressure building in my groin, and I grunted into Harry’s shoulder. A moment later, I felt the wetness of his orgasm hit my stomach, and the spasms of his arse around my cock, milking the rest from me.
Harry gripped my face in his hands, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just looked into my eyes and said, “The Hufflepuff game’s in a week.”
A grin broke over my face. “That’s why we’ve got to practice hard. None of this messing about, like the twins do. I told them, there’s no ti - ”
His fingertips traced my bottom lip, silencing me. “You’re so serious about Quidditch.”
“I love Quidditch.” I kissed one of his fingertips.
“I know that.” His face came closer, until I could see the lines on his lips. “I’ll catch the Snitch. I promise.”
I did kiss him, then.
Every practice, Harry ignored me. He seemed to only have eyes for the Snitch, chasing it across the field with rapt concentration. He didn’t joke around, didn’t find small ways to touch me or talk to me, and didn’t even fly near me. However, when practice ended, he always stayed behind... Sometimes we’d meet in the shed, sometimes in the showers, and sometime even in my room on the rare chance all my mates were gone.
The Hufflepuff game drew near, and I fucked Harry the Saturday night before. I fucked him against the wall of the broom shed... outside. He was naked, his smooth skin dappled with moonlight, and I wore my Quidditch trousers and shirt. As I gripped his thighs, which wrapped around my waist as I pounded into his arse, I asked, “You’ll win for me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” he panted, his head thrown back. “Yes, yes...” His nails dig into my back as he came.
We didn’t win the game. I honestly thought my heart would fall out of my chest if I stayed on the field, so I went straight to my room and shut the door. I must have stared at the empty, quiet room for twenty minutes as I tried to process the loss. Could we still win? Yes... yes we could. My mind started to whir, calculating the points we’d need to beat Ravenclaw in order to remain in the running for the Cup. It was possible... definitely possible.
I went to McGonagall and asked for a rematch, but she said there were more important things to deal with. I supposed she was referring to the Dementors, but I didn’t see what they had to do with it. If Harry hadn’t fainted, there wouldn’t be such a fuss over them now. In fact, had he gone to the Hospital Wing?
A few days later, Harry spotted me in the common room. I rose from my armchair as casually as I could, even stretching a bit to show I was tired, and hastened to reach the stairs before he caught up with me.
“Oliver.”
Fuck. I plastered a grin on my face and turned. “Hey, Harry.”
His expression winded me; I’d never seen him scowl so hard. “Again? I can’t believe it. I can’t...” Sighing heavily, he raked a hand through his hair, messing it up more than usual. “I fucking fell off my broom, you arsehole, and you didn’t even bother to show up.”
There was a moment where I strove to find words, not having expected him to look at me with such a mixture of anger and hurt, and intensity. Only Harry could portray that in one look.
I blinked, shaking my head a fraction. “Where?”
He narrowed his eyes, his voice barely controlled. “The bloody hospital wing.”
“Listen, Harry. I don’t know what you want from me.”
He looked taken aback, eyes widening, and I saw his fists clench. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“I’m sorry you were in the Hospital Wing. I’m sorry you were hurt. I don’t know what else you want me to say. Should I say sorry I wasn’t there to hold your hand?”
Something glistened in his eyes, but they remained as sharp as ever, and he said through clenched teeth, “No.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I tried to smile, and I shrugged once. “All right, then. See you next practice, yeah?”
“Sure.”
I think he stood there glaring at me while I climbed the stairs. I didn’t look back, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me.
The noise in Gryffindor common room was so loud, McGonagall had to come silence us three times. That didn’t stop the twins from sneaking lager out of Merlin knows where. No one knew how Fred and George accomplished all the things they did; it was a bigger mystery than what happened to the Bloody Baron. Were they hiding all this alcohol in their room? Under their beds? And how did they manage to keep it cold? Blimey.
I was through my fourth pint, my mind hazy and happy, when I spotted Harry across the room. He was standing by the fire - his usual spot - with the twins’ brother and that girl Hermione. About twenty other kids crowded around him, so he was mostly hidden, but I could see his face; the firelight touched his skin, making it glow. His grin was radiant from where I stood.
I walked up behind him, weaving through the throng. When I reached him, I touched his shoulder and leaned in. “That was a brilliant catch, Harry.”
He’d been drinking too; I saw it in his eyes. They were not as sharp as usual. “Thanks, Oliver.” He gripped my shoulder and stepped closer to me. “We won!”
“I know.” My hands found their way to his waist. “You were brilliant.”
His cheeks coloured, and his smile became sweeter. “We have a chance for the cup now. Can you believe it?”
“It was all you, mate.”
Shaking his head, he swayed, and I gripped him more tightly. “It was the Firebolt.”
I bit my lip. “Can I see it?”
“You’ve seen it at practice,” he said, laughing.
“No.” I squeezed his waist once, hard. “I want to see it,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “It’s in your room, isn’t it?”
A smirk curled his lips, and I knew he’d finally caught on. “Well, that’s where I generally keep my broom, yes.”
Cheeky bugger. I couldn’t help but smile.
“You want to see my broom, Oliver?” he asked lightly, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s go.”
I’d never seen his room before, and it sort of turned me on. Whenever I fucked him in a bed, it was always in my bed. But seeing his now, my blood rushed to my cock, and I was hard in moments. This is where he slept, and where he touched himself. Where, as a little first year just learning the joys of his arsehole, he’d touched himself.
As soon as we were both in the room, he locked the door, and the din of the common room became only a murmur. His kisses pushed me all the way to the bed.
We fell into a regular rhythm, and I was lying on my back with Harry straddling my hips. Every time he moved, I felt his entire weight against my groin, and I couldn’t resist bucking upward. He leaned in, his face an inch from mine. However, when I craned my neck up to kiss him, he pushed me down with a crooked smile.
“Oliver.” His voice was so serious, I felt a strange chill run through me. “What is this?”
Oh, no. “What?”
Running his hands over my biceps, he looked at my chest when he asked, “Have you ever even liked me?” Oh, no.
“Course I do. Are you gonna get all girly on me, all of a sudden?”
That earned a smile. “Fuck you.”
I jerked my hips up, making him bounce in my lap. His bed was so comfortable, all I wanted to do was shag already - enough of this bullshit. “Harry, Harry... I want you so bad. You know that,” I added, rubbing his bare thighs.
He smirked, looking pensive. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think. Sometimes, I think it’s not me you like.”
“What are you talking about? If it’s not you I like, why would I be with you?”
I felt his muscles tense in my hands as he held his breath. In a voice barely above a whisper, as if he hadn’t heard me, he asked, “With me?”
“Wel... now, I am. I’m with you now, aren’t I?” I rubbed his thighs again, warming them skin under my palms. Soft, barely-there hair dusted the top of his thighs and felt rough on the upstroke. “At this moment...”
“Is it because I’m a good Quidditch player?”
“Well... yes, you are a good player.”
Shaking his head, he grabbed my wrists and ceased their motion. “No. Is it because I’m a good player? Or do you like me?”
I sighed deeply, beginning to feel bored with this conversation, In one, quick movement, I flipped us over so that he was on his back and I pinned him down with my full body weight. A laugh escaped him, and I growled as I attacked his neck with a bite. “Shut up,” I said against his skin, holding his arms down as he wriggled and laughed, trying to escape bite after bite. “Shut the bloody hell up.”
“No, I won’t!”
“I said, you will.”
“Make me.”
I grabbed his cock and pumped it, feeling it grow harder by the moment. I didn’t stop even as he gasped and mumbled incoherently, probably telling me to go slower. But I didn’t want to go slower, I wanted to make him so breathless, he couldn’t open his gob. Soon, all he could do was moan and drool, and I made him come just like that, just from a dry, relentless hand job. Oh, I was completely flooded by the thrill of power, and I realized I was aching, and leaking all over his mattress. I heaved his legs up, holding their weight on my shoulders, and I summoned the lube from my jean pocket. I fucked him until his face was red he had nothing else to say.
I literally stared open-mouthed at the Snitch in Harry’s hand. I saw Slytherin’s Seeker shouting, but no sound came out. There was only his pink face, contorted in rage, his hands fisted into his white-blond hair. My hearing had died for the moment, my mind unable to process any senses other than sight, for the vision was too overwhelming. It took me a few seconds to even believe what I was seeing.
Harry had caught the Snitch. Slytherin lost. Gryffindor won. The Quidditch cup... it was ours. It was bloody mine.
Merlin.
The sound rushed back to my ears in a deafening roar - a hoard of people in red and gold rushed to the middle of the pitch. The stomps of their footsteps, the clapping of their hands, and shout of their voices all merged into the most beautiful fucking sound I’d ever heard. It was the sound of victory.
My body coursed with more happiness than I had ever felt, and I ran to Harry with the rest of them, clapping him on the back with such force, he nearly fell over. He was still clutching the Snitch, holding it up and looking upon it with a monster grin and surprised, wide eyes, almost worried in disbelief. I wanted to pick him up and kiss him right there on the field. My wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Harry. There was no doubt in my mind, he was the best Seeker Gryffindor’d ever had.
McGonagall came onto the field with the trophy, looking just as excited as everyone else. It was the first time I’d seen her grin so widely... actually, it was the first time I’d seen her grin at all. She handed Harry the trophy, and he clutched in in both hands, looking at it as if it might be a figment of his imagination.
As the throng proceeded toward the castle in one giant mass of arm-waving and cheering, I pulled Harry aside by the arm.
“Harry! Harry, fuck, Harry, bloody hell... You were amazing. I can’t believe it. I don’t even have words.”
As I pulled him closer and grabbed his waist, his smile began to fall.
“Come on,” I said quietly, so that rest of the students milling past us didn’t hear. “Let’s go. I want you. Now.”
He went rigid. “Can’t.” His mouth tightened into a thin line. “Ive got to get back... everyone is waiting.” He jerked himself free and began to turn.
I suddenly felt something heavy in my chest, although I couldn’t say what it was. It was hard to place, but it was like a shadow coming over me... really strange, that.
But then he hesitated, pausing in his step, and he turned back around. Biting his lip - that full bottom lip I had kissed so many times, I practically memorized the taste of - he stepped closer again. “Here.” He looked pained as he held out the shiny, golden trophy, his eyes worried and bright. Glancing down, I caught the trophy as he let it go. “Here’s your prize. It’s yours.”
My brow furrowed as I looked at it. Why did it suddenly feel so wrong to take it? I looked up at Harry, and he took a step back.
Raising the trophy an inch, I saluted him. “Cheers, mate.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Cheers, Oliver.” He started to jog at a slow pace, before turning fully and dashing toward the castle to catch up with the rest of them.
The trophy was heavy, and it gleamed in the sunlight. Somehow, I knew Harry and I would never really be the same. But the longer I watched the rays of light on the trophy’s golden surface, and I realized I wasn’t sad at all. In fact, I was bloody enthralled. I had won the Quidditch Cup. I had won. My team, the one I trained for years, the one I coached and fostered, had won. I got everything I ever wanted. Blimey.
Author:
marianna_merloPrompt Number: 119
Kink Showcased: Underage/Age-Disparity
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Oliver Wood/Harry Potter
Summary: There is nothing Oliver wants more than to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor House, and he pins his hopes on Harry. But, is Harry on the same page?
Warnings/Content Notes: The storyline spans Harry’s first three years at Hogwarts. In his last year, when Harry is thirteen, Wood is seventeen. Also, there might be dub-con in places.
Word Count: 10,000
Author's Notes: Yes, I wrote my own prompt *hides* - but I just wanted this story written so badly! It was agitating and swirling around in my head, dying to come out. Thank you
k8sfic and kedavranox for the wonderful betaing, and katelinmr for the britpick!*Mods - could I get a harry/oliver pairing tag? :)
~*~
When I first saw Harry Potter, I thought, blimey, McGonagall got it right. Even as a first year, it was clear Harry had the ideal Seeker’s body. He was small enough to be light on a broom, but he wasn’t overly thin and wiry; there was potential for muscle. He wasn’t too tall for his age like the twins’ younger brother, so his arms and legs didn’t dangle awkwardly around a broomstick. The only thing that worried me were his glasses... the best Seekers traditionally had the best vision.
Though from what McGonagall said, he was a natural flyer, and I ached to see him on a broom. I became antsy just thinking about it, and I couldn’t sit still when McGonagall sent me back to class. My foot quickly tapped against the stone floor, the repetitive motion satisfying me a bit; but the professor was not pleased, nor was the girl sitting next to me who kept shooting me dirty looks. I rolled my eyes at her; bloody Ravenclaws, always so uptight in class.
But no matter; I was thrilled to show Harry the balls we used in the game. I showed him the Bludgers, the Quaffles, and the Golden Snitch. It made me warm, the way his eyes lit up - the brightest green I’d ever seen - as they followed the movement of the Snitch’s tiny, fluttering wings. I was suddenly flooded with appreciation for him and his natural interest in the game.
“Oliver?” he asked while helping me put the trunk away. Though really, I was carrying it, and he was just running along after me.
‘“Yes?”
“When did you first learn to fly?”
I liked him even better then. “When I was nine. My father brought home my first broom, and it’s been true love ever since.” A grin stretched my lips at the memory.
He sighed. “That’s brilliant. I wish I could’ve known how to fly when I was younger.”
He frowned just then, and a shadow passed over his face that I didn’t like.
“You know, Harry, I can already see that you’re really into this sport. I respect that about you.” His grin widened. Made me grin as well. “You’re a good lad, and I can tell that you’re gonna be a fantastic player.”
I thought the boy was going to jump up and kiss me. “Thanks, Oliver,” he said, cheeks flushed pink. He was cute, this Harry Potter. Really sweetly innocent. Everything he felt, I could see it on his face, and right now, he practically worshiped me.
In the weeks that passed, Harry proved to be a good player. He definitely pulled his weight, catching the Snitch about eleven out of thirteen times during practices. For a first year, he certainly surprised me.
We usually showered back at the Gryffindor tower, as the locker room showers were sketchy at best. Plus, no one wanted to shower anywhere there was a possibility Slytherins had been naked, so the general consensus was always to go back to the castle together after practice.
One particularly windy day, we got rather roughly tossed around on our brooms. I was sweating bollocks and desperate to sit under steaming water, but I stayed behind to chat with Harry about the upcoming game. We got to the showers after the the twins had already left. I took the stall next to Harry’s.
When I reached onto the shelf, my hand hit nothing but hard tile. “Bugger.” Clearing my throat, I prepared to yell. “Harry, mate, pass me your soap after you’re done.”
There was a moment of only the sound of water pattering down. “That’s a bit weird,” Harry finally said, his voice muffled behind the wall.
“Oh, come off it.” I rolled my eyes, smiling. “It’s just soap. I forgot mine.”
A pause and more pattering of water. “Well, fine, but I’m not getting out.”
The cheek. “All right, all right, I’m coming.”
The cold air stung my skin as I pulled back my curtain. Stepping onto the tile made my toes curl, and I winced, wishing I wasn’t such a forgetful knob and had remembered to bring my own damn soap.
I grabbed the curtain to Harry’s stall and roughly swung it aside, the rings screeching against the metal rod. Steam from his shower flooded out to greet me, and there, ensconced in the mist, was Harry.
My mouth nearly fell open.
His glasses were lying on the tile shelf, and I finally got an unobstructed view of his eyes. His dark hair was slicked around his face, though still obviously thick and messy - perfect for grabbing...
The skin of his arms, chest, and torso was pink, flushed from the heat. I glanced down at his cock for only a moment, catching a glimpse of his pink shaft resting against his small, neat balls. There was only a shadow of hair - a suggestion. Soft, he was not very big. Then again, he was only a first year.
I swallowed hard, my own cock feeling heavier by the second. Still, the cool draft against my back pulled me out of my trance - as did Harry’s words...
“I didn’t say you could barge in.” Even though he sounded a bit defensive, he didn’t look angry. In fact, he bit his bottom lip, cheeks pink in a way that I reckon didn’t have anything to do with the steam.
Mind dizzy with the effort to not look down, I could only hold out my hand and mutter, “Soap, please.”
He turned around to grab it off the shelf, and I nearly whimpered out loud. That arse. That small, round arse.
“Shit,” he yelled.
Then something miraculous happened: the bar of soap slipped. It slid onto the floor, and Harry - Harry, that amazing boy - bloody bent over to get it. My cock twitched and dribbled precome as a spasm of lust hit my stomach. His pert cheeks opened up, revealing his sweet little pucker - pink, and tight, and hairless.
Immediately, I was assaulted with the desire to grab his hips, bent over as he was now, and force my cock in. The wetness of the shower, the soap as lubricant, would feel so good, and he’d squeal like a little bitch toy as I fucked his arsehole - his tiny, pretty, sweet arsehole. I could just imagine his little virgin rim stretching around my big cock - my big-boy cock, fuck yes. Merlin, the noises he’d make... surprise... pleasure... helpless need. I could make him the horniest little boy...
“Here you are.” He was blinking, wet lashes sticking together around bright, green eyes.
I had to swallow again, though I hardly found my voice. “Thanks,” I grunted, gritty and dry.
As he handed me the soap, he glanced down, and his eyes widened twofold. Heh... he’d probably never seen a dick so big.
Without a word - because what could I even say? - I shut his curtain and stumbled back to my own stall, my cock bobbing up and down in front of me.
That was the first time I wanked over Harry, pulling myself off in the shower with frantic, rough strokes. After that, every practice was torture, because all I could think about was his arse. Even if he weren’t such a good player, I think I would have kept him on the team all year anyway, if only to ogle that cute, little body and be greeted with that bright smile.
I followed that smile into the shower again a week later, even though I told myself I wouldn’t. Harry was a first year, and I couldn’t bloody well go around perving on first years, could I? But after he caught the Snitch in that first game against Slytherin, I wanted him badly. He came up to me after practice one day and started chatting about how much he loved being on the team, I just nodded and grinned like a loon, and I soon found myself in the bathroom right behind him.
I watched as he gripped the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it up, revealing his smooth stomach and a hint of navel, when he paused. “Oh, bugger.” Sadly, he let his shirt fall back into place, and he turned towards the door. “We forgot towels and everything.”
“I’ll run up and get yours and mine,” I offered. “You just hop into the shower, and I’ll be right back.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“No problem.”
“Wow, cheers, Oliver. Ask Ron, he’ll know where my things are.”
I practically skipped from the bathroom and up the steps to the boys’ rooms, imagining Harry naked and wet under the spray and me having an excuse to open the curtain and hand him his shampoo.
Weasley was helpful and surprisingly knowledgeable about where Harry kept his towel and soap. I grabbed whatever he handed me with a quick thanks, flew to my own room to get mine, and then back down to the showers.
The sound of the spray greeted me, steam curling over the curtain of Harry’s stall. I was instantly glad we were, once again, alone.
I laid the items on a bench, and I continued to watch Harry’s stall as I undressed. The pattering of the spray was the only sound in the quiet room.
“Oliver?”
I opened my mouth to respond and realized I needed to clear my throat. “Erhm... Yes.”
A relieved sigh was barely audible over the water. “Find everything?”
“Yes. Fine.” I swallowed as I pulled down my pants and kicked them away, imagining him naked behind that curtain... under the water. Grabbing his soap and shampoo, I walked to his stall. I didn’t even ask before ripping open the curtain.
He jumped, his mouth forming a circle. “Oh...”
Rivulets of water streamed over his chest and stomach, dripping off the peaks of his nipples and into the dip of his navel. The sight sent my blood south. What made my cock twitch, however, was seeing him pull his hand away from his groin. He’d been touching himself.
I grinned, holding up the soap. “Might need this.”
His cheeks turned pink, and he looked at the items with a shy smile. “Oh, yeah... thanks.” He reached out his hand, but I didn’t give him his things. Instead, my heart beating fast, I stepped over the threshold of the stall. His eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Just putting this stuff here.” I set the soap and shampoo down on the tile shelf and turned to him. “Want some help, there?” I asked, nodding down at his prick.
He stammered, his mouth hanging open, and his hands flew to cover himself. “I... I wasn’t...”
“It’s okay, Harry.” I stepped closer to him, and he moved away, but all I did was reach over and pull the curtain closed again. I made sure not to touch him at all. “We all do it; all of us blokes. It’s normal, you know. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
He set his jaw and looked me in the eye, although his face was still pink. “I’m not ashamed,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Then why’d you stop?”
We stared at each other in silence. The hot water splashed against my back, running over my arse. It was hard to draw a breath in all that steam, and I started wishing I hadn’t closed the curtain...
Harry’s hand moved back to his prick, gingerly taking his shaft between his fingers and holding it loosely in his palm. He looked at me questioningly, a worried crease between his eyebrows. “Do you do it?”
An uncontrolled grin broke over my face. “Course I do.” I grabbed my own cock, more purposefully, and began to stroke it lightly. “Haven’t you ever touched yourself before?”
His cheeks turned an even stronger shade of pink. “Sometimes... I thought I was the only one.”
“Blimey, Harry! No way are you the only one. Mark my words - every bloke wanks.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile before he bit his lip. “I was a bit ashamed.” I couldn’t help but silently laugh, chuckling to myself. He was adorably innocent. “I always manage to stop though...”
“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Surely, my eyebrows had risen into my hair. “Harry, please don’t tell me... No. Can’t be.”
He lowered his chin and pulled away, as if he were preparing to be hit in the face. “What?”
“You stop yourself from coming?” He said nothing, only blinked. “You’ve never got off before?”
“What do you mean?”
“Harry, if you have never come, then we have a major problem.” He swallowed. “How could you have never wanked?”
“At my aunt and uncle’s, I never had any privacy... and... and it would be so embarrassing if they heard me... And here, there are always people around...”
“Stop.” I help up my hand, and he set his lips together. “Take a breath, and listen to me very closely: There is nothing wrong with wanking. In fact, it’s good for you.”
“What if someone heard?”
“That’s what silencing spells are for... Merlin!”
He swallowed. “Could you... could you show me?”
“Sure I can. It’s a bloody simple spell - just an easy flick of the wrist - ”
“No. I mean...” He bit his lip again, and a strange feeling rose in my chest. “Can you show me how to... touch myself. Properly?”
I was suddenly lightheaded, and I leaned over once more to open the curtain. The rush of fresh air was such a relief, and I breathed in deeply. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry shiver.
“Get under the water,” I said.
He immediately moved under the spray, looking eager and wide-eyed.
“Grab hold of your prick,” I directed, doing so myself. He did the same, holding it up, and I could see the pink head poking out through his clenched fist. “Squeeze it a bit.”
He did, and his eyelids fluttered and his mouth parted. Tingles of pleasure rushed through me, and I sighed at the look on his face.
“Feel good?”
He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Now, stroke up and down, making sure to squeeze a bit as you do so. You don’t want to chafe your palm against your foreskin.” I watched the expressions on his face as he stroked, feeling the heat building inside me. I started grunting as my hips pushed my cock through my fist; I couldn’t help it. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Mmm...” He took deep breaths, his eyelids drooping even as he looked at me. His neck and chest were flushed as pink as his face. “Feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“It feels so good,” he said brokenly, ending in a whimper.
I couldn’t even stop myself; the words flew out of me. “Do you like touching yourself, Harry?”
His mouth hung open now, panting. “Yes,” he breathed as he jerked his hips.
“Keep touching yourself.”
“Yes...” He clenched his eyes shut, and his mouth fell open. He was close...
“Oh, yes.” I fisted myself frantically, trying to keep up. “Just let yourself go, Harry. Keep stroking, that’s a good boy.”
“Oliver!” It sounded like a plea. “I’m gonna...”
“Yes, Harry, come.” I wanted to see his little cock spurt.
“Oh!” With a strangled cry, Harry bucked his hips and squeezed his prick one more time, and streaming the tile with his come.
“Oh, fuck.” My eyes shut, and a broken sound escaped me. It was a glorious few seconds of coming, the sight of Harry’s first little orgasm spurring me to new heights.
When I opened my eyes again, he was still breathing hard.
I grinned, catching my own breath. “Good work, mate.”
Next practice, Harry was the first one on the grounds. I was standing at the edge of the pitch, and he bounded up to me, practically skipping. My stomach sort of twisted watching him approach, all excited and eager.
“Hey, Oliver.” His grin stretched across his entire face. “How are you?”
“Good, Harry. And yourself?”
“Brilliant.” His face lit up when he looked at me, and my chest tightened. I felt something like guilt, although I didn’t know what for.
“Ready for practice?”
“Course. I love practice. Always look forward to it after lessons and being cooped up inside all day.”
We walked to the middle of the pitch, brooms slung over our shoulders. Thankfully, the twins showed up just then, and their chattiness distracted Harry from being any more clingy.
Until after practice...
“I’ll help you bring these back.” Harry picked up the trunk with the balls.
“No need. Go shower and relax.” I tried to take it from him, wrapping my fingers around his in the hoops on the side of the trunk.
“No bother.” Before I could stop him, he pulled away, running toward the broom shed.
I growled and tore off after him. He was leaning the trunk against the shed, trying to get the door open, and I rolled my eyes and reached out for the handle. “Here you go,” I said, opening the door. He looked at me like I’d just given him a lifetime’s supply of Chocolate Frogs. “Well? Go on.” I nodded at the doorway.
“Thanks.” When he was a few steps inside, he dropped the trunk on the floor and paused. With his hands clasped behind his back, his fingers twisting together nervously, he turned, biting his lip. “Oliver?”
“Yes?”
He came forward, standing in front of me and looking up through his lashes. “Do you think you can show me... how to do that... thing again?”
My lips twitched. “Again?” He nodded. “Really? You’re up for it?”
“Yeah, sure. I tried it last night by myself...” He looked away, smiling, and I pictured him in bed, touching his prick and moaning quietly, desperately. Bloody hell, it was hot, and it sent shivers down my spine. “But it was so much better with you.”
“Well.” I crossed my arms. “I didn’t think you’d want another go.”
“Of course I do,” he insisted, raising his eyebrows.
“All right, then. Off with your clothes.” I stood there watching him stumble out of his clothes. “No need to rush.” However, he was naked in no time. His prick was already pink and bobbing.
His eyes roamed my body. “Are you not going to do it, too?”
“No, Harry.” I shook my head. “I want to watch you.”
A blush spread over his cheeks, and he dipped his chin. With a nod, he began stroking himself.
I felt hot all over, and my cock bulged against my trousers, but I didn’t touch myself. It was better this way, watching him naked and wanking just for me.
“Pull the foreskin over the head,” I instructed, my voice coming out thickly.
He whimpered as he did it, closing his eyes.
Shifting onto my other leg, I swallowed. “How does it feel?”
The desperation in his voice nearly killed me. “Really good, Oliver.”
Oh, fuck, my cock twitched violently, and I had to adjust myself. The moment my hand touched my groin, I couldn’t let go, and I continued to rub myself over my trousers, pushing the heel of my palm along the outline of my shaft. “Want me to teach you something new?”
His eyelids fluttered open, his breath ragged. “Okay.”
“Have you ever touched your balls?” He nodded, his other hand flying to cover his bollocks. “Squeezed them?”
A little, breathy laugh escaped him, and he squeezed. “Oh...” His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his other hand started to stroke faster.
“You like touching yourself, don’t you?”
He nodded. “Mm...”
“Reach further behind - you’ll like that, too.”
His fingers traveled lower, disappearing behind his sack. “Back here?” His brow creased.
I inhaled through my nostrils, rubbing faster. “Just... a little farther back.”
When he gasped, his eyes snapping open, I knew he’d touched it. He pulled his hand back, stopped wanking, and blushed even more fervently. “But... but... that’s my...”
“Your arsehole.”
That shy, nervous laughter bubbled up in him again. “Yeah.”
“It feels good to touch it. Trust me.” I could see him fighting himself internally; it showed in his eyes. “Have I steered you wrong before?”
He shook his head, but he didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Back there?”
“Positive. You’ll love it.” Tentatively, he reached behind himself, but I realized I wanted something else. “Turn around.”
A frightened look passed over his face. “But, then you’ll see...”
“Fuck, yeah,” I breathed, giving in and unzipping my trousers, and pulling out my aching cock.
As he considered it, his face scrunched up in uncertainty. Was he embarrassed knowing I would look there? I hoped he was turned on by the idea, but equally ashamed. The thought had me pumping hard into my fist; I loved making him feel slutty.
Maybe he decided he liked it, too, because he turned.
“Spread your legs a bit, and bend over.” I pointed to a stack of crates holding extra quaffles, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Lean against there... that’s right. Oh, fuck...”
When he leaned over, one hand on a crate to hold him steady, his arse cheeks parted. I had a perfect view of his hole. It was wrinkled and tiny, and impossibly tight-looking. I wanted to see him struggle to open it up.
“Reach back... that’s it... and feel for your hole. There it is. Do you feel it?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice barely audible. His thighs trembled, whether from embarrassment or lust, I couldn’t tell.
I started moving my foreskin up and down my shaft. “How does it feel, Harry?”
“Er...” His finger gingerly touched the furrowed skin of his hole, as though if he pressed any harder, he would break himself. “Weird.”
“Describe it.” I all but growled.
“Uhm... it’s soft. I’ve never touched back here before.”
I groaned, wanking myself harder. “Why not, Harry?”
“It’s sort of... dirty, isn’t it?”
“Not at all, Harry. Everyone does it.”
“They do?”
“Sure. Now... lick your finger, and push it in.”
I heard a small gasp. “In?”
“Yeah, inside. Do it, now.”
His finger disappeared for an instant as he brought it to his mouth, and it returned all shiny. He found his hole again, places his finger on the pink entrance, and pressed against it.
“Push it in.”
He pushed, and, as his fingertip breached the rim, he gasped. “It’s strange, Oliver.”
“Push harder.”
“It’s hard.”
“Do it.” I squeezed the base of my shaft to slow myself down. “Want me to do it?”
“Er...”
I stepped forward and took his hand in mine. With a firm grip on his wrist, I pushed his own finger deeper inside himself. He inhaled sharply.
“It stings.”
“But it feels good, too. Relax and feel it.”
As his breathing became more steady, I pulled his finger in and out, fucking him with it. He was so bloody tight, it wouldn’t go in all the way. He was all nerves, his body stiff and rigid.
Without a thought, I reached my other hand around and grabbed his prick, making him jump back against my chest.
“You keep fingering yourself,” I whispered into his hair.
Soon, he was huffing and whimpering, moving his hips back and forth in the rhythm I was wanking him. He was so much smaller than me, and his entire prick fit in my palm. It was easy to play with - easy to torture him by pinching the foreskin over his head on every stroke.
When he pushed forward, he drove himself into my fist, and when he pushed back, he impaled himself on his finger. I rubbed my cock against his body wherever it touched, using the other hand to steady him by the waist.
“Tell me how you feel.”
“Oliver...” He panted. “I feel... I feel so good.”
“Yeah, Harry. It feels good to touch your arsehole, doesn’t it?”
He whimpered, clenching his eyes shut. I could tell the word arsehole embarrassed him - forced him to face what he was doing - and I felt my balls draw up.
Grinning, I leaned into his ear. “You like playing with your arsehole, Harry.”
“No...” His hips jerked forward, and I felt warm come against my palm.
I came after him, spurting his arse with come. When I let him go, he sagged over the crate. As I tucked my cock away, I watched my come slide onto the back of his thigh. His rim was bright pink.
It was obvious we’d gone too far this time. Although he was still polite as ever, still chatted with me about Quidditch, and still tried his very best at practices, Harry quit his clinging. In a way, I was relieved. But we didn’t wank together again that year. As the days passed, Harry seemed preoccupied with something else, and he was always sneaking around the castle with his two little mates. It wasn’t until next year that we so much as touched again...
~*~
The morning after the Slytherin match, I allowed myself the rare luxury of a lie-in. There was a chill in the air, so I wrapped my red Quidditch robes more tightly around myself. In my opinion, there was something truly satisfying about sleeping in winning Quidditch robes, and I sighed as I shifted in bed.
The robes were wrinkled and smelled faintly of grass, but at least they weren’t mud-splattered, so I figured I could wear them to bed. They were a symbol of yesterday’s victory, and I wanted them as close to my body as possible. I had nothing on underneath, and the thick, rough cotton scratched my chest, my thighs, and the sensitive skin of my prick. I groaned into my pillow as my cock awoke with a violent twitch.
Daylight flooded through the open window; the breeze ruffled my hair and nipped my face. For a moment, I considered drawing the bed curtains, but my shivers stirred the fabric and caressed my cock. Slowly, my mouth stretching into a private smile, I gave in and rutted hard against the inside of my robes. Blood rushed south, and my precome soaked the fabric. The entire area was soon wet and warm, and impossible not to rub against.
I fucked the mattress until it creaked, and I grunted into my pillow through clenched teeth. With the cool air rushing in, I could imagine I were flying. I came with the vision of yesterday’s win vivid in my mind.
When I finally emerged from my room feeling sated and extremely well-rested, the first person I met was Harry; he was climbing the stairs as I descended them.
I grinned widely. “Hallo, my brilliant Seeker.”
His eyebrows lifted upon seeing me, his lips thinning. “Where were you?”
“What do you mean, where was I?” I frowned, sensing the tenseness about him. “Something wrong?”
“I spent the night in the hospital wing. Whole team was there, but you weren’t.”
“Bloody hell, Harry!” I ignored the voice in my head saying, you bloody well knew that, Wood. “You all right?”
A sharp laugh escaped him, and then a sound like a huff. “I’m fine, Oliver. Don’t worry about me.” Shaking his head, he made to move past me.
I extended my arm across the corridor to block him, and he bumped against it. He was so close to me, I could smell the scent of freshly cut grass - my senses instantly brought me back to yesterday’s game, and I inhaled sharply through my nose. Leaning forward, I looked into his eyes, almost touching our foreheads.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “What happened?”
He didn’t move away, but his eyes shone with an intensity that was so unique to Harry. “I broke my arm, remember?” His jaw was tight, but I wasn’t put off by his bitterness. Rather, I found it endearing coming from a twelve-year-old. The smooth fullness of his cheek was still boyish, and his lips were still pouty and young. One of my biggest impressions of Harry was how sweet and expressive his face was; how his eyes gave away everything behind them.
“Ah.” I nodded, and our fringe brushed. “I thought Lockhart fixed that.”
Harry snorted. “Bloody blew my bones right out of my arm. Didn’t you see that yesterday, when I was lying on the ground in agony?”
I frowned. “I didn’t notice. I just remember them announcing we’d won, and being fucking ecstatic.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but I fell off my broom, if you’d care to remember.”
I stayed my ground, looking him dead in the eye. “Are you upset with me?”
Harry swallowed, and his full lips parted into a sigh. “No, it’s all right.”
“Don’t lie to me, Harry. It’s okay if you’re upset.”
“Well, then...” He bit his lip, hesitating. “Yeah, I am. Everyone else came to see me except you.” A pink flush crept over his cheeks. “But like I said, don’t think on it - ”
“Harry, I’m sorry.” I grabbed his small chin in my hand, and he flinched for a moment before his shoulders relaxed. He let me tilt his head back, my thumb resting just below the curve of his mouth. “I got distracted, which I never should have done. You are the main priority on this team, and I care about your well-being.”
He looked down, his eyelashes fanning out, and he squirmed a bit. I moved my hand to hold his face more tightly, spreading my palm against his cheek. There was something about the way he looked up at me, his eyes sparkling like the first day I met him, that made my pulse jump.
He blushed, the color spreading under my thumb so that I instinctively caressed his cheek. His voice was shaky, and he tried to shake his head. “You think I’m so important - ”
“You are,” I insisted, because he didn’t seem to believe it. He wasn’t aware how important he was to me. I couldn’t lose Harry Potter. “If you’d been badly hurt, how do you think I’d feel?”
He stood a step below me, so his mouth naturally tilted up when he looked at me. I lowered one foot to his step, bringing our bodies flush together. I still had to lean down.
“I can’t lose my Seeker.” Before I knew what I was doing, my lips touched his, and my entire body flushed with heat. His mouth was so soft, I pulled back only to press against it again, to feel his plush lips. He inhaled through his nose; I felt his entire chest fill. When I pulled away, his eyes were still shut and his lips still poised, searching for mine.
It would be a shame to ignore an invitation like that, so I leaned forward again just as his eyes began to flutter open. This time, I placed a hand on his back to pull him closer, and, to my surprise and amusement, he gripped me by the waist with a strength I would never have expected.
This time, I sucked lightly on his lips. I didn’t pull away until he did, and I smirked at his pink face.
His mouth was hanging slack as he tried to form words. “What... what was that? Why did you...”
“You did it right back.” I winked and grinned at him, darting around him to climb briskly down the stairs.
What I learned about Harry Potter after that was this: the boy was a winner.
What made him a winner, more than anything else, was his determination. While the twins joked around, beating Bludgers between one another for fun, and the girls gossiped in the air, floating on their brooms like a flock of chirpy sparrows, Harry stayed focused.
I could spot him flying high above the rest, circling the field. His face was hard, brow furrowed in concentration. Always looking for the prize - eyes poised for the Snitch.
Evidently, he applied that same determination in all things.
“Oliver!”
I halted on my way back to the castle and turned around. After blocking Quaffles for an hour, my muscles ached. “Yeah, Harry?”
He jogged to meet me, and we stalled on the pitch until the rest of the team shuffled past us. They were joking and laughing together, and Harry looked over my shoulder, watching them get further away. I could tell he was waiting for their voices to drift off...
“That was a great practice.” He was breathless, although he’d stopped jogging for a few minutes now. There was a flush on his cheeks and a coyness in the way he looked at me.
“I reckon it was.” I nodded in agreement, throwing my broom over my shoulder. “You did really great.”
He dipped his chin, smiling uncertainly. “Yeah?”
“Caught the Snitch a fair amount of times.”
His grin widened. “I tried.”
“You’re gonna be brilliant in the game, Harry.”
His shoulders sagged as though he were suddenly relieved. “I’m glad to hear you think so.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“Not sure.” He shrugged and stepped closer, licking his lips. My eyes were drawn to them, and my cock twitched at the memory of how they felt. “It’s nice to hear it from you.”
“Why’s that?”
I’ve never had someone so much younger be so aggressive toward me before. He stepped into my personal space, and I smelled the fresh sweat on his uniform.
“Because I want you to have faith in me.”
“I do...”
His head was tilting back; he had to slightly lean up to get closer.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his full lips, and I felt my blood pumping to my cock as I breathed, “But you shouldn’t put so much faith in me... ”
His lips cut me off, sliding against mine awkwardly, because he was about half a head shorter than me. I had no choice but to grab him by the front of his t-shirt.
As our lips pressed together, he wrapped his hands around my neck in a way that would have made me cringe if the kiss weren’t so silky and good. All I could register was the warmth of his body as he pressed against me - the heat from his tongue when he parted his lips.
There was also something about him being so young and yet so domineering. I was supposed to be his superior, his captain, his model, surpassing him in age and experience... but he had me by the neck and waist, and pulled me down to meet him.
It was like that all year. Stolen kisses after practices, small gropes in the dark shed or on the staircase where no one could see us. The beginning of the year passed in a swirl of rushed handjobs and snogging. Then the Chamber of Secrets opened, and our meetings tapered off until we forgot to meet at all.
~*~
My last year at Hogwarts, I hopped off the train with one thing on my mind. I knew I had to win the House Cup. This year was my last chance to prove myself as captain, and I knew damn well how important this was if I wanted a chance at a national team.
That is, until I saw Harry that first practice, and I nearly dropped the Quaffle in my hand. It was like all the blood rushed to my cock in that half a second it took me to look him up and down. I think it was the way he sauntered up to the group of us - late, too, for fuck’s sake - like he really didn’t want to be there.
“Oi, Harry,” I called. “Got something better to do, have yeh? Can’t be arsed to get to practice on time?”
It looked like he was about to roll his eyes, and that’s when I noticed the rigidness of his jaw, the hard lines when he clenched it.
“Leave him alone, Oliver,” Fred said, walking up to Harry and placing a hand on his shoulder, as if he needed protecting. “It’s only the first practice. Are you going mad already?”
Harry’s eyes flashed to me so sharply, I felt nearly more winded than my first lift on a broom. Easily, and more fluidly than I’d ever seen him move, Harry shrugged Fred off, stepping away from him. I watched Fred’s hand slide from his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” Harry mumbled.
Moody bugger. So this was how it was going to be this year, eh? Bloody third years...
I narrowed my eyes at the lot of them. “All the more reason to be on time! This is our last year, and our last chance at the Cup.”
Fred grinned. “You mean your last year?”
Practice went more or less smoothly after Harry’s grand entrance, with me shouting instructions that nobody bothered to pay attention to. Less smoothly because Harry was still being a moody fucker. He had a perpetual scowl on his face as he looked for the Snitch. I could tell his heart wasn’t as into it as usual. He soared around the pitch lazily, and he didn’t look at me once.
I shrugged it off at first, telling myself I couldn’t be arsed how Harry felt about practice, but I found I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. What was worse, I was noticing things I shouldn’t have been. Like, he was lovely to look at on a broom. Not that I’d ever forgot the sweetness of his body, not since those times in the showers, nearly two years ago - but like I said before, this year, he was different. Lean muscle replaced soft lines. He carried himself straighter. He was more aloof; more indifferent to me. It fucking set me on fire.
“Harry,” I called after practice finished and we’d landed. The sun was low in the sky, about to set, and it cast an orange glow across him that made him seem to gleam. In that moment, I knew... This time would be different.
“Yeah?” He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Fuck, he was beautiful, with his dark brows and hair and lashes... and lips.
I kicked the trunk once. “Bring it over to the shed.”
“What? I can’t, I promised Ron - ”
“Move it, Potter.” I turned and marched in the direction of the broom shed, smirking as I caught sight of him leaning down to grab the trunk. He mumbled something under his breath, probably miffed I’d singled him out. But I’m still the bloody captain, and he’ll do what I tell him.
The shed was dark, but I didn’t light any sconces. I liked it shadowy. Harry strode past me as I leaned on the door, holding it open with my shoulder.
There was a thump as he dumped the trunk on the floor. “Right.” He turned on his heel. “See you - ”
I took a step forward, letting the door slowly swing shut behind me, eliminating the sunshine in the room. The only light now came from the pale rays that streamed in through the ancient window, which was dulled by a layer of dust.
His eyes widened a fraction, dilating in the dark. “What?”
In two easy steps, I moved closer and grabbed him by the waist. His body was warm under my hands. It sent a jolt to my cock as I realized how much I wanted him. He was not so little anymore, and the look and feel of his body drove me mad.
He tried to wriggle away, pushing against my biceps to maintain some distance. “Listen, I don’t think this can go on - ”
“Don’t say it.”
He inhaled sharply, his chest pressing against mine. His grip tightened around my arm, holding onto the muscles there. Even though he was putting on a show of protest, his fingers squeezed, and his thumbs stroked. I could tell he was just as turned on as I was by the way his hands lingered and his breath caught.
My throat felt dry and scratchy. “Harry, I want you.”
A small gasp escaped him. “Fuck...” His eyelids began to droop, and the stiffness left him as he started to relax in my arms. “I wasn’t going to do this...”
“Why the fuck not?” My hands roamed to the small of his back, down to his arse. I grabbed it tightly in each palm, making him gasp again and push his hips back. “So hot, Harry.”
A soft grunt escaped him from low in his throat. “I’ve always wanted to.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“I’ve imagined fucking you so many bloody times.”
He moaned and jumped at my mouth with so much force, I stumbled backwards. He herded me against the wall, and I fell onto a crate while he stood between my parted legs, tilting my head back with a tight grip in my hair.
We snogged fiercely, tongues sliding against each other, until it was hard to breathe. I couldn’t keep my hands off his arse, squeezing and playing with it through his jeans. Breathing hard into my mouth, he climbed on top of me and sat on my lap, grinding his hips into mine. My erection throbbed, so I let go of his arse and began to undo my zipper. The sound was loud in the room, which was otherwise silent except for our heavy breathing. Harry stopped moving, arms still wrapped around my neck. His whole body tensed as he looked down, eyes widening.
A smile pulled my lips, and I teasingly waved my cock. “Do you like it?” He inhaled harshly, and I could see his chest rising and falling. Licking my lips, I squeezed the head between my thumb and forefinger, pulling the foreskin up and covering the tip. A whimper escaped from the back of my throat as warm precome soaked my thumb. “I think you want it, Harry.”
He hesitated, so I took his hand off my shoulder, brought it down, and placed his fingers on my cock. His fingertips grazed my skin with the lightest touch, sending shivers through me.
When I let go of his hand, he kept it where it was. Slowly, he dragged the pads of his fingers down the length of my shaft. I couldn’t tell if he was experimenting or teasing me, but, either way, I sighed heavily at the tingles of pleasure he created.
“I’m gonna fuck you,” I said raggedly.
He swallowed, nodding his head minutely and leaning down to press our mouths together. The kiss was so familiar, I relaxed into it, opening my mouth to take him deeper. Our tongues slid against one another, and I groaned, remembering this taste.
Pulling away, our lips smacking together, I brought a finger up to his mouth instead. “Suck,” I instructed, touching my fingertip to his wet bottom lip.
He looked at me, and I was again struck by the intensity of those fucking green eyes. His tongue peeked out and touched my finger, and I shivered at the wetness and warmth. How had I never asked him to suck me off? That tongue was brilliant, sliding over my finger and sucking it into his mouth. He looked down, his lips pursed in a circle, soaking my finger with globs of spit, going straight to my leaking cock. It seemed Harry knew where my finger was going.
I pulled my finger out and reached behind him, and he lifted his arse. I felt around for his hole with my dry hand, and I touched upon the soft and silky skin. His breath hitched when I traced the length of his crack, and I brought my wet finger against his wrinkled entrance.
He was so fucking warm... and tight. The thought of putting my cock in there was breathtaking, and I drove my finger in impatiently, wanting to finish stretching him so I could finally fuck him. He was so pliant in my arms, so soft and giving. I felt the press of his lips against my ear, my jaw, my neck, my lips... until I leaned over his shoulder and rested my chin there. He hugged me tightly around the neck.
“You scared?” I asked, wondering if that might be why he was so touchy feely.
“No. Do it. I want you.”
I pressed my finger into him, and his whole body quivered in my arms. “Push back onto it.” He steadied himself, then pushed, and I felt his arse stretch around my finger. I twisted it, pushing it in and out. “Yeah, Harry, you feel amazing.” He grunted against my ear.
After a bit, I added a second, forcing it in next to the first. He whimpered, tightening his hold on me, and I rubbed his back to try to get him to relax. The feel of his silky skin only made me want him more.
I pulled my fingers out and reached between his legs to grab my cock, lining it up with his hole. His scent and his weight on top of me was intoxicating - it was the smell of come and sweat mingling with the heat of both our bodies to create a lusty need inside me. I pushed my hips up experimentally, testing how far I could breach him in one go.
“Ahh.” I threw my head back, mouth open, hardly breathing. The tightness was incredible. My fingers gripped his waist so hard, I knew I would leave bruises, but I needed to steady him or I’d push too far and come to quickly. It was a slow grind, with him lifting his arse up and sliding it down at his own pace.
Soon, he was bouncing up and down in my lap. I massaged the small of his back, tracing my palm along the curve of his spine and feeling it move. Our groans and pants filled the small shed. My bollocks tightened, pressure building in my groin, and I grunted into Harry’s shoulder. A moment later, I felt the wetness of his orgasm hit my stomach, and the spasms of his arse around my cock, milking the rest from me.
Harry gripped my face in his hands, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he just looked into my eyes and said, “The Hufflepuff game’s in a week.”
A grin broke over my face. “That’s why we’ve got to practice hard. None of this messing about, like the twins do. I told them, there’s no ti - ”
His fingertips traced my bottom lip, silencing me. “You’re so serious about Quidditch.”
“I love Quidditch.” I kissed one of his fingertips.
“I know that.” His face came closer, until I could see the lines on his lips. “I’ll catch the Snitch. I promise.”
I did kiss him, then.
Every practice, Harry ignored me. He seemed to only have eyes for the Snitch, chasing it across the field with rapt concentration. He didn’t joke around, didn’t find small ways to touch me or talk to me, and didn’t even fly near me. However, when practice ended, he always stayed behind... Sometimes we’d meet in the shed, sometimes in the showers, and sometime even in my room on the rare chance all my mates were gone.
The Hufflepuff game drew near, and I fucked Harry the Saturday night before. I fucked him against the wall of the broom shed... outside. He was naked, his smooth skin dappled with moonlight, and I wore my Quidditch trousers and shirt. As I gripped his thighs, which wrapped around my waist as I pounded into his arse, I asked, “You’ll win for me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” he panted, his head thrown back. “Yes, yes...” His nails dig into my back as he came.
We didn’t win the game. I honestly thought my heart would fall out of my chest if I stayed on the field, so I went straight to my room and shut the door. I must have stared at the empty, quiet room for twenty minutes as I tried to process the loss. Could we still win? Yes... yes we could. My mind started to whir, calculating the points we’d need to beat Ravenclaw in order to remain in the running for the Cup. It was possible... definitely possible.
I went to McGonagall and asked for a rematch, but she said there were more important things to deal with. I supposed she was referring to the Dementors, but I didn’t see what they had to do with it. If Harry hadn’t fainted, there wouldn’t be such a fuss over them now. In fact, had he gone to the Hospital Wing?
A few days later, Harry spotted me in the common room. I rose from my armchair as casually as I could, even stretching a bit to show I was tired, and hastened to reach the stairs before he caught up with me.
“Oliver.”
Fuck. I plastered a grin on my face and turned. “Hey, Harry.”
His expression winded me; I’d never seen him scowl so hard. “Again? I can’t believe it. I can’t...” Sighing heavily, he raked a hand through his hair, messing it up more than usual. “I fucking fell off my broom, you arsehole, and you didn’t even bother to show up.”
There was a moment where I strove to find words, not having expected him to look at me with such a mixture of anger and hurt, and intensity. Only Harry could portray that in one look.
I blinked, shaking my head a fraction. “Where?”
He narrowed his eyes, his voice barely controlled. “The bloody hospital wing.”
“Listen, Harry. I don’t know what you want from me.”
He looked taken aback, eyes widening, and I saw his fists clench. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“I’m sorry you were in the Hospital Wing. I’m sorry you were hurt. I don’t know what else you want me to say. Should I say sorry I wasn’t there to hold your hand?”
Something glistened in his eyes, but they remained as sharp as ever, and he said through clenched teeth, “No.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I tried to smile, and I shrugged once. “All right, then. See you next practice, yeah?”
“Sure.”
I think he stood there glaring at me while I climbed the stairs. I didn’t look back, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes on me.
The noise in Gryffindor common room was so loud, McGonagall had to come silence us three times. That didn’t stop the twins from sneaking lager out of Merlin knows where. No one knew how Fred and George accomplished all the things they did; it was a bigger mystery than what happened to the Bloody Baron. Were they hiding all this alcohol in their room? Under their beds? And how did they manage to keep it cold? Blimey.
I was through my fourth pint, my mind hazy and happy, when I spotted Harry across the room. He was standing by the fire - his usual spot - with the twins’ brother and that girl Hermione. About twenty other kids crowded around him, so he was mostly hidden, but I could see his face; the firelight touched his skin, making it glow. His grin was radiant from where I stood.
I walked up behind him, weaving through the throng. When I reached him, I touched his shoulder and leaned in. “That was a brilliant catch, Harry.”
He’d been drinking too; I saw it in his eyes. They were not as sharp as usual. “Thanks, Oliver.” He gripped my shoulder and stepped closer to me. “We won!”
“I know.” My hands found their way to his waist. “You were brilliant.”
His cheeks coloured, and his smile became sweeter. “We have a chance for the cup now. Can you believe it?”
“It was all you, mate.”
Shaking his head, he swayed, and I gripped him more tightly. “It was the Firebolt.”
I bit my lip. “Can I see it?”
“You’ve seen it at practice,” he said, laughing.
“No.” I squeezed his waist once, hard. “I want to see it,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “It’s in your room, isn’t it?”
A smirk curled his lips, and I knew he’d finally caught on. “Well, that’s where I generally keep my broom, yes.”
Cheeky bugger. I couldn’t help but smile.
“You want to see my broom, Oliver?” he asked lightly, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s go.”
I’d never seen his room before, and it sort of turned me on. Whenever I fucked him in a bed, it was always in my bed. But seeing his now, my blood rushed to my cock, and I was hard in moments. This is where he slept, and where he touched himself. Where, as a little first year just learning the joys of his arsehole, he’d touched himself.
As soon as we were both in the room, he locked the door, and the din of the common room became only a murmur. His kisses pushed me all the way to the bed.
We fell into a regular rhythm, and I was lying on my back with Harry straddling my hips. Every time he moved, I felt his entire weight against my groin, and I couldn’t resist bucking upward. He leaned in, his face an inch from mine. However, when I craned my neck up to kiss him, he pushed me down with a crooked smile.
“Oliver.” His voice was so serious, I felt a strange chill run through me. “What is this?”
Oh, no. “What?”
Running his hands over my biceps, he looked at my chest when he asked, “Have you ever even liked me?” Oh, no.
“Course I do. Are you gonna get all girly on me, all of a sudden?”
That earned a smile. “Fuck you.”
I jerked my hips up, making him bounce in my lap. His bed was so comfortable, all I wanted to do was shag already - enough of this bullshit. “Harry, Harry... I want you so bad. You know that,” I added, rubbing his bare thighs.
He smirked, looking pensive. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think. Sometimes, I think it’s not me you like.”
“What are you talking about? If it’s not you I like, why would I be with you?”
I felt his muscles tense in my hands as he held his breath. In a voice barely above a whisper, as if he hadn’t heard me, he asked, “With me?”
“Wel... now, I am. I’m with you now, aren’t I?” I rubbed his thighs again, warming them skin under my palms. Soft, barely-there hair dusted the top of his thighs and felt rough on the upstroke. “At this moment...”
“Is it because I’m a good Quidditch player?”
“Well... yes, you are a good player.”
Shaking his head, he grabbed my wrists and ceased their motion. “No. Is it because I’m a good player? Or do you like me?”
I sighed deeply, beginning to feel bored with this conversation, In one, quick movement, I flipped us over so that he was on his back and I pinned him down with my full body weight. A laugh escaped him, and I growled as I attacked his neck with a bite. “Shut up,” I said against his skin, holding his arms down as he wriggled and laughed, trying to escape bite after bite. “Shut the bloody hell up.”
“No, I won’t!”
“I said, you will.”
“Make me.”
I grabbed his cock and pumped it, feeling it grow harder by the moment. I didn’t stop even as he gasped and mumbled incoherently, probably telling me to go slower. But I didn’t want to go slower, I wanted to make him so breathless, he couldn’t open his gob. Soon, all he could do was moan and drool, and I made him come just like that, just from a dry, relentless hand job. Oh, I was completely flooded by the thrill of power, and I realized I was aching, and leaking all over his mattress. I heaved his legs up, holding their weight on my shoulders, and I summoned the lube from my jean pocket. I fucked him until his face was red he had nothing else to say.
I literally stared open-mouthed at the Snitch in Harry’s hand. I saw Slytherin’s Seeker shouting, but no sound came out. There was only his pink face, contorted in rage, his hands fisted into his white-blond hair. My hearing had died for the moment, my mind unable to process any senses other than sight, for the vision was too overwhelming. It took me a few seconds to even believe what I was seeing.
Harry had caught the Snitch. Slytherin lost. Gryffindor won. The Quidditch cup... it was ours. It was bloody mine.
Merlin.
The sound rushed back to my ears in a deafening roar - a hoard of people in red and gold rushed to the middle of the pitch. The stomps of their footsteps, the clapping of their hands, and shout of their voices all merged into the most beautiful fucking sound I’d ever heard. It was the sound of victory.
My body coursed with more happiness than I had ever felt, and I ran to Harry with the rest of them, clapping him on the back with such force, he nearly fell over. He was still clutching the Snitch, holding it up and looking upon it with a monster grin and surprised, wide eyes, almost worried in disbelief. I wanted to pick him up and kiss him right there on the field. My wonderful, beautiful, brilliant Harry. There was no doubt in my mind, he was the best Seeker Gryffindor’d ever had.
McGonagall came onto the field with the trophy, looking just as excited as everyone else. It was the first time I’d seen her grin so widely... actually, it was the first time I’d seen her grin at all. She handed Harry the trophy, and he clutched in in both hands, looking at it as if it might be a figment of his imagination.
As the throng proceeded toward the castle in one giant mass of arm-waving and cheering, I pulled Harry aside by the arm.
“Harry! Harry, fuck, Harry, bloody hell... You were amazing. I can’t believe it. I don’t even have words.”
As I pulled him closer and grabbed his waist, his smile began to fall.
“Come on,” I said quietly, so that rest of the students milling past us didn’t hear. “Let’s go. I want you. Now.”
He went rigid. “Can’t.” His mouth tightened into a thin line. “Ive got to get back... everyone is waiting.” He jerked himself free and began to turn.
I suddenly felt something heavy in my chest, although I couldn’t say what it was. It was hard to place, but it was like a shadow coming over me... really strange, that.
But then he hesitated, pausing in his step, and he turned back around. Biting his lip - that full bottom lip I had kissed so many times, I practically memorized the taste of - he stepped closer again. “Here.” He looked pained as he held out the shiny, golden trophy, his eyes worried and bright. Glancing down, I caught the trophy as he let it go. “Here’s your prize. It’s yours.”
My brow furrowed as I looked at it. Why did it suddenly feel so wrong to take it? I looked up at Harry, and he took a step back.
Raising the trophy an inch, I saluted him. “Cheers, mate.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Cheers, Oliver.” He started to jog at a slow pace, before turning fully and dashing toward the castle to catch up with the rest of them.
The trophy was heavy, and it gleamed in the sunlight. Somehow, I knew Harry and I would never really be the same. But the longer I watched the rays of light on the trophy’s golden surface, and I realized I wasn’t sad at all. In fact, I was bloody enthralled. I had won the Quidditch Cup. I had won. My team, the one I trained for years, the one I coached and fostered, had won. I got everything I ever wanted. Blimey.
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no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 06:48 am (UTC)*takes deep breaths*
Okay, I will attempt to break down what I liked here.
1) The sex. Oh god, the sex. It was SO HOT. I loved the way it was all centered around Quidditch; I felt that was very nice. There's almost this sense of manipulation, but I don't think Oliver is doing it on purpose. I liked the way how it builds up, from the shower masturbation to fucking. I loved the dub-con; how Oliver seemed to care more for himself than for Harry. Which leads me to item number
2 ….
2) I loved how you characterized Oliver and Harry. Poor Oliver isn't really trying to manipulate Harry. He's just willing to get what he wants. He wants Harry. He wants the Quidditch Cup. It's part of his Gryffindor sensibilities to be brave and do risky things to get them. It just makes sense. In a gloriously porny way. Poor Harry's just so willing to have someone care for him that he's willing to let Oliver do, basically, whatever he wants. Lucky us :)
3) In the end, Oliver doesn't realize that anything's wrong. Because to him, nothing's wrong. I think that really, he was just having sex with Harry so that he could get the Quidditch Cup. He didn't really care for him. So for Oliver, in this case, it's pretty much a happy ending because he ends up getting what he wants. Harry, though—you have to feel sorry for him. He did everything for Oliver, and I have the feeling that he would've stayed with Oliver if Oliver had just been a bit nicer to him. He ends up giving Oliver what he wants. And then he goes off to lick his wounds.
I am pretty sure that I failed at coherency there, but tl;dr?
YOU ROCK AND I LOVE YOU ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:19 am (UTC)In the end, Oliver doesn't realize that anything's wrong.
Yes! Oliver didn't think he was doing anything wrong, because to him, it was just sex, and Oliver is a pretty self-centered, typical bloke. But for Harry, it was about discovering his sexuality, so they had two different emotional reactions to the sex.
You are so amazing, thank you for your kind words! You made my day <3 I am very glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 11:02 am (UTC)tag pairing: hp/ow you got. :)
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 12:38 pm (UTC)I was reading and thinking "This is so wrong, Jesus. But I LOVE IT". Yeah. XD
Wow!
Sorry! I replied to a comment instead! That's how incoherent I was! lol
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-28 02:44 pm (UTC)And then how you wove the Quidditch theme throughout was pure gold. Very well done and I'm thinking victory wasn't quite as sweet as Oliver thought it would be. Not that he's complaining...
Again.. great work!!
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-01 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-01 03:15 am (UTC)I really didn't see the ending coming. I thought finally Oliver would find out that he also held the same feelings as Harry's, they might not be emotionally involved together but it would end with a promising ending. But this Oliver, thinking he had everything he wanted now (Harry not included), not a bit hurt just makes my heart ache. *sniffle*
It's truly a well written fic. Thank you author!
no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-03-02 12:50 pm (UTC)I loved Wood's voice - you got him spot on for me.
Brilliant job.
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Date: 2013-03-04 09:18 pm (UTC)PS - your icon is gorgeous, wow <3
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Date: 2013-03-05 01:58 am (UTC)After that, I was agog in admiration at your Oliver characterization. He was so wonderfully self-centered and manipulative. You gave us a great view of Harry even through his older, trusted mentor. I could see that Harry realized Oliver didn't truly care for him the way Harry wanted, and just took it for what it was worth, finally rejecting him and moving on.
Fucking fantastic!!
no subject
Date: 2013-03-05 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-05 08:30 pm (UTC)I am in love.
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Date: 2013-05-07 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-10 01:45 pm (UTC)Oh, the crazy emotions you've packed into this! Marvelous writing, too - the story really flows, bubbling along with all this mixed-up innocence and lust and cluelessness and need and eager curiosity. These two guys are so hot together, and so heartbreaking.
Love how you let us read between the lines of Oliver's blinkered point of view to see Harry's perspective coming through. How Oliver honestly doesn't get why Harry's upset after the game with the Dementors. How he's honestly bored by any talk about feelings. Because that's just how Oliver is.
I'm left with a lasting image of Harry running away from him, there at the end. Thanks for writing such an unusual, touching, memorable fic.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-12 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-03 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-02-03 09:15 pm (UTC)