
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/278855.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Bill/Oliver
  Character:
      Bill_Weasley, Oliver_Wood
  Additional Tags:
      Oral_Sex, Anal_Sex, Public_Sex
  Series:
      Part 4 of Past_Curfew
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-10-17 Words: 6961
****** How I Spent My Christmas Vacation ******
by juice817, semaphoredrivethru
Summary
     Oliver will never see Kings Cross in quite the same way.
Oliver waved at his parents as they left. He wasn't really sure they even saw
but didn't really care, not this year. This year, he was spending a few days
with Bill for Christmas. He tugged at his jumper to straighten it, shouldered
his rucksack and headed into Kings Cross. This time on a Sunday, the station
was, although certainly not deserted, quiet and free from the crowds it would
hold tomorrow morning. He wasn't sure where Bill would be, but he knew they'd
find each other. Maybe Bill would be at the Hogsmeade station, or maybe in the
Gryffindor common room. He couldn't wait, and nearly bounced as he made his way
to Platform 9 3/4.
It had been a long shot that Bill would actually manage to find Oliver at the
Muggle train station, but somehow Bill had gotten it into his head that it
would be a fun surprise. Besides, if Oliver didn't get on the Hogwarts Express,
then no one would ever know he was missing for a few days. Hopefully. Spotting
Oliver at last, Bill straightened his borrowed porter's uniform and brushed
past a couple of ladies in what appeared to be tattered housecoats, and cleared
his throat.
"Help you with your luggage, sir?" he said, deliberately pitching his voice
differently.
"No, I got it," Oliver said dismissively. "S'just this." He shrugged the
shoulder with the bag on it and kept walking without looking at the porter,
even rolling his eyes at the thought that he'd need help with his one bag.
Muggles. Quickening his step just a bit, he turned the corner, leaving the main
entrance foyer and heading for the wall between platforms 9 and 10.
"Are you sure?" Bill asked, reaching to tug on one of the bag straps. "You
know, there aren't any trains that way for at least an hour, sir." To his
credit, he even managed to keep a straight face as he said it, though Bill
wasn't entirely certain how.
"I know where I'm going, thank you." Oliver tugged back, honestly irritated
now. He looked up at the man, ready to glare him into going the hell away, and
his mouth fell open as he saw Bill in the porter's uniform. The irritation
turned instantly to jubilation, and Oliver threw himself at Bill, arms going
tightly around his neck. "Bill!"
Laughing, caught up in Oliver's infectious enthusiasm, Bill caught Oliver about
the waist. "'Lo, gorgeous," he said, grinning and kissing the tip of Oliver's
nose. "Miss me?"
"Dumb question," Oliver murmured, lifting his face the little bit necessary to
press their mouths together. "God, it's been awful." Oliver hoped Bill had
missed him too, but didn't want to know if he hadn't, so he just kissed Bill
instead.
Bill felt safely anonymous among the Muggles, so he pushed back his porter's
cap, tilted his face, and kissed Oliver back. It felt so good to kiss him
again, to have Oliver's solid body pressed against his, and maybe the tight
feeling he'd been carrying for weeks now hadn't been anxiety about seeing
Oliver again after all. Not that Oliver really needed that sort of
encouragement, Bill thought as they kissed.
"Well these porters certainly are full service these days, now aren't they,
Gladys?" a female voice, wobbly with age, said. "Hey, son, when you're done
over there, I could use some of that help you're offering!"
"Constance!" a scandalised voice said.
"What?" Constance said, their voices drifting off as they wandered away. "It's
been fifteen years, and if he's helping with that sort of baggage..."
Oliver buried his face in Bill's shoulder, laughing helplessly. "That'll teach
you to dress up," he said, nearly giggling. "What are you doing in that,
anyway?"
"I thought everyone liked a bloke in uniform," Bill said, chuckling and
squeezing Oliver once more before letting go a bit more slowly than he'd meant
to. "Besides, you should have seen the look on your face. Abso-bloody-lutely
priceless."
Reluctantly letting his arms slide from around Bill's neck, Oliver rolled his
eyes at the taller man. "I was trying," he said a bit indignantly, "to get to
the platform so I could get back to Hogsmeade and find you." Oliver punctuated
the "you" with a light poke of his finger into Bill's stomach. "And this Muggle
porter wouldn't leave me alone." He smoothed his hands over the uniform.
"S'nice," he said quietly, "but I'd rather see you out of it."
Bill hummed softly and looked Oliver up and down. "Of course you do," he
murmured, then grinned again. "But first, you ought to come with me to the loo;
it's a good a spot as any to Apparate out of around here, and it'll be the
perfect place for me to give you something every growing boy needs."
"Okay," Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. "What, exactly, does every growing boy
need?" He started walking toward the loo, hand absently curling around Bill's
as he did.
Bill said nothing as they walked into the men's room. There were a few occupied
stalls, but no one was at the sinks or urinals, and Bill smirked at how perfect
it was for what he had in mind. Fisting his hand in Oliver's jumper, he hauled
the younger man into the stall all the way at the end, closed the door and
locked it, and then pressed Oliver against the wall, kissing him hard, hand
already working at his flies, tongue tasting those tempting lips. "Every
growing boy needs," he growled softly, fingers teasing the waistband of
Oliver's pants, and then cupping him through the thin cotton, "a mind-blowing
orgasm in the middle of a public place."
Oliver whimpered against Bill's mouth, hips pushing up into Bill's hand as he
let the rucksack fall from his shoulder to the floor. "I- we- really?" he
gasped, threading his hands through Bill's hair and kissing him back almost
desperately. He'd missed this, so much, needed the taste of Bill more than he
needed air. He wasn't sure it was a good idea, but Oliver was rapidly losing
the ability to think rationally; he realised he didn't care, and stopped
thinking altogether. "Bill."
"Really." Bill wanted to get down on his knees, right there on the filthy
floor, to suck Oliver off, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop kissing
and tasting, tracing the inside of Oliver's mouth with his tongue. He had
tried, while back in Egypt, to get the kid out of his system, but they'd all
just left Bill feeling... cold. And now that he had Oliver here and pinned
against the wall, had his hand curled around Oliver's cock, Bill knew it was
because no one else had ever reacted with such honest, wild abandon before. He
kissed a hot and wet trail to Oliver's ear, sucking on the soft lobe. "I want
to taste you all over, Ollie. I want to watch you while you show me how you've
been wanking for me."
"Yes," Oliver moaned. His mouth was open; he was already panting and melting
from the inside out. "Please." He let go of Bill's hair and reached down to tug
the back of the uniform up, reaching under to dig his fingers into the warm
skin of Bill's back. "I need you. I've missed you so much. I want you to fuck
me until I can't walk."
Bill shook with want, hand tight around Oliver's cock as he turned Oliver
around and pressed up against his back, grinding his own hard-on against that
perfect arse. "That's exactly what I was thinking," Bill growled, sucking on
the side of Oliver's neck, not caring if he left marks just now. He groaned,
thrusting against Oliver's arse in time with the hard strokes of his hand. "But
right now I wanna make you come while people listen to you whimper and moan and
beg for my cock, Ollie. You make the hottest fucking noises, you know they've
all got to be just as hard as I am. Right. Now." The last few words were
punctuated by particularly hard tugs on Oliver's cock and sharp thrusts of
Bill's hips.
Oliver cried out, helplessly moving with each tug and thrust. He rested his
cheek against the cool tile wall and curled his hands into fists on either side
of his head. "Please, oh god, Bill, please. I need you so much." He bit his
lip, small needy noises spilling out. "Fuck me, god, please fuck me." Oliver no
longer cared where they were, or whether there were a million people lined up
outside the stall listening. "It's nothing like my own hand, nothing feels as
good as your hands on me. Your mouth. Your cock. Please, I want your cock."
"You got it, Ollie." Grabbing his wand, Bill cast the preparation charm with a
vengance and let go of Oliver to shove the younger man's jeans and pants down,
growling for Oliver to spread his legs as he opened his own flies and pulled
his cock out. Groaning, Bill rubbed against Oliver's arse, one hand sliding up
under Oliver's jumper to tweak and tease a nipple.
Eagerly spreading his legs as far as the jeans would let him, Oliver canted his
hips back, rubbing Bill in return. He was whimpering almost continually now,
face pressed hard against the wall, and he reached back to spread his own
cheeks, trying to encourage Bill inside as soon as possible. "So long," he
mumbled, "s'been so long. Please."
Bill shifted, pushed, and worked his way into Oliver with several hard, quick
thrusts. He paused for a few heartbeats when he was completely in, a groaned,
"Too fucking long," slipping past his numb lips, not that Bill even realised he
had spoken at all. Then he started thrusting, hard and fast, not willing to
draw it out this time, knowing they had days ahead of them for taking it slow.
"Fuck, Ollie..." he groaned. "So. Good."
"Yes," Oliver whispered. He braced himself against the wall and pushed back
into each thrust, mewling as Bill pushed in again and again and again and it
had been so long and Oliver had missed him so much and it was so bloody good
that the orgasm slammed through Oliver in a sudden rush. He cried out again as
his body stiffened, come spraying the wall in front of him.
Gasping, Bill clamped his lower lip between sharp teeth to keep from making too
much noise as he hurtled head-first after Oliver, thrusting all the way in once
more and then coming harder than what felt like in forever, because it felt
like it had been forever since he'd had Oliver last. He saw stars, shook, and
barely managed to gasp out a tight, praising, "Oliver!" as he emptied over and
over.
Oliver's legs were shaking so much he wasn't sure he could stand upright much
longer, but he really didn't want to lean into the mess he'd made. He leaned
back into Bill instead and could feel the older man trembling, too. A slow,
smug smile spread across his face, although it vanished when the blood stopped
roaring in his ears and he could once again hear the men outside the stall. He
flushed red.
Reaching back, Oliver hooked one arm behind Bill's neck and twisted his own
head so he could whisper, "Can you Apparate us out of here yet?" His voice was
shaky too. He was not ashamed of what they'd done, but the comments and
catcalls were upsetting, to say the least. He loved Bill, and thought maybe
Bill might like him a lot back, and he loved what they did together. It was
beautiful. His voice was a little thick as he continued, "Or do you need a
minute?"
"I'm afraid we can't leave that way now," Bill said, bending his head and
kissing the red mark he'd left on Oliver's neck. He'd have liked nothing more
than to just Apparate them to his room, but... "We've made a bit of a scene,
and I'm sure they'll notice if we don't leave." But he still didn't let go of
Oliver just yet, the both of them struggling to catch their breath, Bill's arms
wrapped around Oliver, cradling him against his slender chest.
Oliver didn't really care if they noticed or not, but he nodded and tried to
force his lungs to stop gulping in air. He unhooked his arm from Bill's neck
and wrapped both arms around Bill's, holding them tight to his body. "Okay," he
murmured. He thought absently that he should clean off the wall, but he didn't
let go of Bill.
The comments from outside the stall had lessened, but still hadn't stopped, and
Bill resigned himself to walking the gamut. Slowly, carefully, Bill untangled
their bodies and turned them so Oliver could lean against the door if he wanted
to. Then he pulled a set of clothes from his trouser pocket, neatly shrunken.
Bill stripped out of the uniform quickly, dressing even faster when he realised
just how chilly it was in the loo. Then he shoved the wrinkled and come-stained
uniform behind the toilet as Oliver finished tucking himself in and fastening
his trousers, and kissed him lightly. "C'mon, then," he said gently. "They're
just a bunch of arseholes who're jealous they can't get a hot shag in the loo
like the rest of us."
Oliver managed a smile that went nowhere near his eyes. "Okay," he said again
and squared his shoulders. He opened the stall door and walked out staring
straight ahead, fighting to ignore the men watching them. One of them reached
out as he passed and tugged at the sleeve of Oliver's jumper. "'Ere now," the
man said with a leer, "'ow much you charge for a go like that?" He jerked his
head at the stall Bill and Oliver had just left. Oliver's face went from an
embarrassed red to a deathly pale in the space of a heartbeat.
Bill heard what the man said, saw Oliver's reaction to it, and did the first
thing he could think of to stop things from getting out of hand. With Oliver's
bag over his shoulder, Bill came up behind Oliver and wrapped his arms around
his waist, kissing his neck softly, glaring at the bloke who'd talked to Oliver
like he was some common slag. Like you treated him any better by fucking him
here, Weasley?
"My baby doesn't charge me," he said in a low and dangerous voice. "And he
wouldn't touch your sorry cock for the Crown Jewels. Now if you don't mind, we
haven't seen each other in months, and I want some real quality time." He
nuzzled behind Oliver's ear, squeezing him gently. "Hungry, love?" he murmured.
"We can get some dinner before we go back to my place."
Still pale, Oliver shook his head faintly. "Let's just go," he said quietly.
"Unless you want something." Oliver covered one of Bill's hands with his own
and tangled their fingers together. He stepped reluctantly out of the circle of
Bill's arms and walked past the outspoken man without another word, tugging
Bill along behind him.
Mostly concerned with Oliver, Bill almost didn't see the man reaching for
Oliver again until it was almost too late. But he reacted in time, free hand
wrapping vise-like around the stranger's wrist. "I might be queer, but I can
still kick your arse, mate," Bill threatened. "Touch what's mine again and
you'll bring back a fucking stump. Are we crystal?"
"Bill," Oliver said, "let's go." He tugged at Bill's hand again, giving the
stranger a dismissive look. "He's nothing. Let's go home." He was torn between
lingering embarrassment from the man's question, excitement at being with Bill
again, and pleasure over Bill's possessiveness.
"Fine then," Bill said, letting go of the man's wrist like he'd been holding
something cold and slimey. He squeezed Oliver's hand and let go only to wrap
his arm over the younger man's shoulders. They walked out of the loo and across
the train station that way, and Bill didn't let go of Oliver until they were
outside. "I'm sorry about that," he said softly, turning and kissing Oliver
softly. "I don't know what I was thinking, putting you in that situation."
Oliver lifted a hand to cup Bill's cheek, smiling faintly. "I don't know
either," he said dryly. "It couldn't possibly have been my begging you to fuck
me now." He rubbed his thumb over Bill's bottom lip. "It was definitely worth
it," he added absently, eyes watching his thumb as it moved back and forth,
then his lips twitched and his gaze lifted to meet Bill's. "My baby doesn't
charge me?"
Bill laughed, turning a faint shade of pink. "It was the first thing I could
think of to shut the wanker up," he muttered. "Well, other than a silencing
curse, but that would've blown our cover, now wouldn't it?"
Oliver laughed and put his arm around Bill's waist, starting them walking again
aimlessly. It didn't matter which way; they could Apparate from any alley. "You
could have told him I was priceless. Or really expensive," he said, still
grinning, although it faded a little as he said hesitantly, "Was it just
because we were shagging there, or do I just look like, like a p-prostitute?"
"You don't look like a prostitute, Ollie," Bill said, arm around Oliver's
shoulders again. "I'm sorry," he said again, not sure what else to say.
"Don't be sorry," Oliver said. Bill had been out of control, had wanted him
that much. He shivered. "Let's go to your place and do it again. It was
brilliant."
"Insatiable," Bill said with smirk, squeezing Oliver's shoulder as he steered
them into the nearest alleyway. "I've taken a room here in London," he said,
pulling Oliver behind a stack of empty crates and away from anyone who might be
watching. "In case you let me up for air and we want to go anywhere."
Oliver grinned up Bill. They might go out. Like a date. "Well, I guess we can't
fuck all the time." He laughed as he slid his arms around Bill's waist, waiting
for him to Apparate them.
"We could always try, though," Bill teased with a wink, and then they
disappeared with pop, rematerialising in the alley behind Bill's hotel. He
looked down at Oliver, who hadn't made so much as a move to let go of him yet.
"Damn sight faster than a cab," he said with a knowing smile.
"Yeah," Oliver agreed. "Cheaper too." He leaned up to kiss Bill lightly.
"Should we go try?" he murmured into Bill's mouth with a sensual grin.
Bill laughed, a throaty sound. "Let's."

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

"I have to go back today." Oliver tried not to sound quite as dejected as he
felt as he reminded Bill that their time together had come to an end. He slid
his hand down over the arm Bill had wrapped around his waist and tugged it more
securely around himself. He'd gotten used to sleeping like this, spooned with
Bill, and wondered what he would do when he had to go back to sleeping alone.
Bill hummed quietly and nosed at Oliver's hair. "In a few hours," he mumbled
sleepily, curling closer. They hadn't slept all that much the night before (but
then again, they hadn't all week, Bill thought with a satisfied smirk), and
Bill just wanted to relax before they had to do something strange like put on
clothes and leave the room for longer than it took to get take-away. He was
comfortable, warm, and feeling slightly randy even though a few hours before
he'd been sure it was going to be days before he'd have the energy to get it up
again. "Unless you're eager to get home and tell your mate Angie everything you
did on your winter hols, that is."
Oliver blushed and pinched Bill's arm. "I'd rather do some of it again than
talk about it," he said, sidestepping the admission that yes, he would be
telling Angie all about his week with Bill. Well, maybe not all about it. His
lips curved in a slow, satisfied smile, and he snuggled back into Bill's body.
Trailing his fingers over the skin he'd pinched, Oliver quietly admitted, "I'm
not at all eager to get home."
"School's not all that bad," Bill said, kissing behind Oliver's ear and pulling
him closer. With Oliver's arse nestled against his groin, Bill curved his arm
across Oliver's solid chest, thumb moving back and forth slowly. "I always
liked the showers, myself."
That made Oliver laugh softly. "Yeah. And Quidditch is completely wicked."
Wriggling, he turned in Bill's arms to face him, nuzzling Bill's nose with his
own shorter one. "But it'll be ages before I have a shag again," he murmured.
He pressed his mouth to Bill's, sucking his bottom lip in and lightly biting
it.
"Not," Bill reminded, arching a ginger-coloured eyebrow, "if you find a nice
queer mate or two that's probably been wanking for ages while thinking about
your gorgeous body." He cupped and squeezed Oliver's arse, purring in
appreciation. "It's certainly the stuff fantasies are made of."
"Stop it," Oliver murmured, nosing along Bill's jaw. "No one wanks thinking of
me. I don't want them to, either. I don't want to shag anyone else."
For a moment, Bill considered telling Oliver that he had wanked while thinking
about Oliver, but then decided it really wouldn't help him in convincing Oliver
to find someone his own age. Even if it was the truth. "I'm flattered," he
said, tilting his head to make room. "But there's no way I'm that good that I'm
worth you missing out on one of the few parts of being a teenager that actually
is fun."
Oliver scraped his teeth over the bend of bone before Bill's ear, then licked
at his neck. "Not missing anything," he said absently, setting his lips to the
warm skin and sucking hard. Oliver thought Bill was pretty good, but admitted
if only to himself that he had no basis for comparison. Still, it wasn't just
the sex, although that was brilliant. It was Bill. The smirk that was nearly
always lurking in his eyes. The sheer confidence under everything he did,
everything he said. The tall lean body that was such a joy to watch. To touch.
The hair. God, the hair. And the freckles. Oliver smiled against Bill's neck.
Can't forget the freckles.
"Mmmm... are too," Bill said. He really didn't remember what it was they were
arguing about, but if Oliver wanted to prove his point by showing off what he'd
learned... Right. That was it. He rolled back, pulling Oliver over until he was
half-sprawled across Bill's long, lean body. "I know you won't go fucking
around, but you owe it to yourself not to ignore chances to get a mate with
benefits that your mum really will believe is just a school chum."
"Sure." Oliver didn't roll his eyes, but it was close. He levered himself up so
he was draped fully over Bill. "If I promise not to ignore any chances, will
you please shut up about it?" Oliver felt safe promising that; Angie was the
only one at school who knew he liked boys instead of girls and if there really
were any chances he could always say no. Refusal wasn't ignoring. He folded his
arms over Bill's chest and put his chin on them. "It's very strange," he said,
grinning down at Bill, "to have you talk about me fucking someone else when
we're naked in bed together."
Bill laughed, smiling broadly. "How do you know," he asked, absently tracing
the lines of Oliver's face with his fingers, eyes following the lazy path and
then flickering up, mischief dancing in the dark blue depths, "that I haven't
got a fetish for voyuerism? Maybe it'll turn me on to hear you describe what
it's like to ride other cock."
Now Oliver did roll his eyes, even as he laughed. "You'd rather be doing than
watching, I think. You're not that patient." He turned his head to kiss Bill's
fingers. "We can talk about the fetishes you do have, or you can fuck me again.
I don't think there's time for both before the train." His face fell and he
sighed, accent thickening as he murmured, "I don't want to go."
"I know," Bill said softly, and pulled Oliver in for a kiss instead of
comforting him like he wanted to for just a moment. "I reckon I'd rather fuck
than talk, really. I can always tell you what makes me hot under the robes some
other time." He reached for the heavily-used bottle of lubricant and offered it
to Oliver. "Let me see you get yourself ready, Ollie. Let me see you with your
fingers in your arse while you think about my cock."
Oliver smirked as he took the bottle and lay back. "I thought we were going to
talk about what makes you hot some other time," he said and laughed as he
smeared lube over two fingers and reached between his legs.
Bill smirked right back. "There's a difference between talking and doing,
Ollie-boy," he said, running lazy fingers down his own body, turning to face
Oliver better. His fingers ghosted over the tightly-curled red hairs at his
groin, and then Bill traced the length of his slowly-swelling shaft with the
tip of his middle finger. "The difference being that doing means rather a lot
more fun all around for the both of us."
"Mmm," Oliver said absently, more focused at the moment on sliding his fingers
into himself. He was always a little surprised at how much he could feel the
stretch of it, especially now, after so many hours spent with something much
larger in there. Once both fingers were in past his knuckles, Oliver brought
his knees up and relaxed, closing his eyes. "I'm to think about your cock, am
I?" he said, lips twitching as he fought back the laugh that threatened. His
breath caught as he spread his fingers inside.
With his eyes closed his fingers felt bigger, the sensations stronger, and
Oliver could feel the heat as it spread across his cheeks and down his neck. He
suddenly didn't feel like laughing any more. Oliver moaned softly and tugged
his bottom lip between strong white teeth.
When Oliver moaned, it shivered straight down Bill's spine, the muscles in his
arse tightening reflexively as Bill curled his hand about his cock. "Go on," he
urged in a rough voice. He stroked himself, hand moving slowly up and down the
length of firming flesh. He'd been thinking about watching Oliver like this
ever since those letters of his. "Go slow. Tell me what you're thinking,
Ollie."
"About your cock," Oliver murmured, and managed a smile that faltered when he
began stroking his fingers slowly in and out of himself. "About how it's bigger
than my fingers, how much better it feels when it's you in me instead." Oliver
swallowed, breath coming faster. "How you smell," he continued, "how warm your
body is against me. So strong and solid and real." His fingers pushed in and
out faster, and his other hand curled around his cock, stroking the firming
flesh.
Groaning softly, Bill got to his knees, crawling between Oliver's bent legs so
he could see all the better. He pulled slowly on his cock, mesmerised by the
motion of Oliver's hands. "Is this how you wank, Ollie?" he asked, his free
hand sliding up to play with one of his flat nipples. Bill's breath hitched and
his hand tightened. "How you wanked when you got my letter, telling you all the
things you make me want to do to you?"
"Sometimes," Oliver laughed, "and hell no." He opened his eyes again to grin at
Bill. "God, when I got that letter..." Oliver shook his head. "I was sure
there'd be friction burns on my hands, from wanking so hard, and I think that's
the fastest I've ever come in my life."
Bill laughed throatily. "You look amazing like this, you know," he purred,
shifting forward and closer. "So very fucking hot."
Oliver spread his legs further, pumped his cock faster. "Yeah?" he asked
softly, challengingly. He lifted an eyebrow and said, "So why are you still
clear down there?"
"Voyuerism fetish," Bill said, smirking. But he still let go of his cock and
crawled forward. "Gives me more things to think about when I wank." He reached
for Oliver's cock, batting his tanned hand out of the way and taking over the
job.
Oliver's eyes fluttered shut as Bill's hand moved over his cock. It always felt
so much better when it was Bill's hand instead of his own. Plus... "You think
about me?" Oliver whispered. He reached out and curved his hand over Bill's
shoulder, up around his neck under that gorgeous red hair.
"Sometimes," Bill said, grinning crookedly. More often in the past few weeks,
actually, but it would have been giving too much away to say so. "I'd have to
be dead not to. Not when I know how you feel, what you look like..." He
tightened his hand, stroking a little faster. "The sounds you make."
Oliver made another one of those sounds, a helpless moan low in his throat.
"That, that feels so good," he said. His legs shifted restlessly, one knee
falling to the side as his fingers moved faster, thrusting into his arse in
tandem with Bill's hand on his cock.
"I love the way you fall into this," Bill murmured, squeezing harder for a
moment. "The way you fall apart... it just makes me want you even more." He
wondered if Oliver would still be this wanton after he'd been with more people.
Hoped, in fact, that he would, and that Bill might get a chance to see so for
himself. He had no business wanting that, he knew. Not with Oliver being so
much younger, with so many opportunities ahead of him that Bill was beyond now,
even though he was only twenty-three. It was only a handful of years that
wouldn't have meant a thing if they were both in their twenties, but it was a
chasm between them now. A chasm that Bill had accepted over the past few days
he couldn't cross, and at the same time wouldn't be deterred from skirting so
long as Oliver would continue to offer himself like this.
Shaking off the lingering sense of guilt that his wandering mind had stirred,
Bill kissed the side of Oliver's raised knee. "Add another finger, gorgeous,"
he said, forging on ahead. "Talk to me some more."
"O-okay," Oliver said, voice hitching. He shifted restlessly and spread his
legs further before pushing another finger inside, moaning again as he
stretched himself a bit wider. "Um. You, I don't - what do you want me to say?"
Oliver blinked slowly, trying to keep his eyes open to watch Bill, fighting the
need to completely lose himself. He couldn't quite think straight any more, not
with his fingers pushing rhythmically inside and Bill's hand stroking his cock.
Between the physical pleasure and the idea of Bill wanking while thinking about
him, Oliver simply couldn't remember what he'd been saying before Bill had
admitted it.
"Dirty things," Bill urged, leaning closer, free hand rubbing slowly high up on
the inside of Oliver's thigh. "What it makes you want, do you have to gag
yourself when you wank? I know the charms only do so much at school... do you
make those noises when you think about me?"
Giving up, Oliver closed his eyes. "It makes me want your cock," he whispered.
"I can't stop the noises. I think about you, about your hair and the way you
smile and the way your cock feels and I have to use a towel to keep the noise
in. I tore the sheets with my teeth so I use a towel now." Oliver tugged with
his hand in Bill's hair. "Please, Bill, kiss me. I want to taste you."
Tore the sheets? Bill's eyebrows went up at that. "I'm impressed," he said with
a wry grin, and moved to the side, curling against Oliver, hand still stroking
him even as he nuzzled Oliver's neck, his jaw, and over to his lips. "Very
wanton of you."
"Stupid sheets," Oliver muttered, head turning to follow Bill's lips and catch
them with his own. His fingers moved faster, his breathing harsher as he almost
panted into the kiss. "Faster, please, Bill, I need... oh god." He was suddenly
so close, nearly there, pleasure roiling through his system. "Bill."
But instead of giving it to Oliver, Bill actually slowed his hand, loosened his
grip. "Wouldn't you rather come on my cock, Ollie?" he purred.
"Yes," Oliver hissed, frustration and pleasure both clear in the single word.
He arched his neck and groaned, then tugged his fingers free of his arse and
wrapped them around Bill's cock instead. "Always. Fuck me."
Bill groaned and nipped lightly at Oliver' shoulder. "On your side. Face away,
Ollie," he ordered in soft tones.
Oliver pulled Bill's face up to his for a quick hard kiss before he obeyed,
rolling over so his back was to Bill. He reached down to cup his balls, hand
carefully squeezing before moving up to stroke his cock again. It felt good,
but it wasn't Bill's hand. Oliver kept stroking anyway.
"Wait for me," Bill breathed, covering Oliver's hand, stopping it. Then he
scooted up against Oliver's back and pulled one of Oliver's legs against his
chest, pressed against the exposed entrance, and slid into Oliver with a
shuddering gasp. "Nice... work," he praised as his cock was squeezed by
perfect, slick walls of muscle.
"Oh god," Oliver gasped, muscles fluttering around Bill's cock, adjusting,
squeezing. He wrapped his arms around his leg to hold it close to his chest,
keeping it up and keeping himself open. Bending his head, Oliver bit his knee.
God, it felt so good. It always felt so bloody good to have Bill inside him. He
moaned and rested his forehead on his knee.
Bill moved steadily, pulling out and pushing back in, not teasing or wasting
time. Neither of them could take that just now, especially Oliver, who acted as
though he hadn't even heard of the concept of holding back on purpose. He
mouthed along the back of Oliver's neck, panting softly as he thrust. "Fuck,
you always feel so good."
Oliver's arms tightened on his leg, fingers digging into his skin, working
helplessly against his calf muscles. "Yeah," he mewled in panting agreement.
Knowing this was the last time he'd have this for awhile made the pleasure
bittersweet. Oliver shoved the thought away and gave himself over to Bill and
the steady rhythm of his cock.
With Oliver's leg up as it was, Bill couldn't reach his cock, couldn't stroke
and fuck at the same time. "Leg down, Ollie," he growled, gasping as everything
tightened when Oliver obeyed. He whimpered, grinding his hips harder, caressing
down Oliver's chest, over his tense stomach, down to his groin. Long, freckled
fingers wrapped around Oliver's cock and tugged, and Bill bit at the back of
Oliver's shoulder, groaning, "There. Better, isn't it?"
"Yes," Oliver whimpered. He arched helplessly into each thrust, moving with
Bill as he rode the pleasure he'd only found here. With Bill. He reached back
and put his hand on Bill's arse, squeezing, trying to pull him in harder.
"Bill," he moaned, "so good. So good." He arched again and squeezed his muscles
on Bill on the next thrust in. "Fuck me."
"Oh god!" Bill cried out, thrusts becoming uneven when Oliver clenched around
him. "O-ollie..." So close already, and it was all Bill could do to hold on, to
draw it out and not come yet. "So fucking amazing..."
Oliver moaned again and again, needy sounds spilling out of his throat with
each hard shove into his arse. It was absolutely amazing, and with a harsh,
sharp inhale Oliver came, eyes wide and blind, body stiffening abruptly as he
spilled over Bill's hand.
"Fucking hell, Ollie, you're so... god, you feel, and you're amazing and..."
Bill could barely breathe but he kept on praising, gasping and shaking until he
ran out of air, and then he sucked in a great lungful of air and came, emptying
deep inside Oliver and body so tense he could barely whisper his lover's name
as he clutched and shuddered.
"Bill," Oliver murmured, still panting, lungs gradually slowing as his heart
rate did. His hand clenched on Bill's arse again and then lazily stroked the
freckled skin. He smiled, a smug lazy expression of sheer pleasure as he felt
Bill calming behind him. His legs shifted to rub against Bill's and then he
sighed. "Surely we can just stay here. Right?"
Bill twisted away briefly, his cock slipping free and a soft grunt in the back
of his throat as Bill lost that clenching warmth about his length. He wiped his
hand on the sheets behind him before curling back and pulling Oliver close. He
sighed in contentment, a small smile on his face. "For a little while," he
murmured, warm and comfortable and utterly loathe to give it up just yet. "I'll
take you to the station in a bit. Just not yet."
"Not yet," Oliver echoed softly. He took Bill's hand in his and threaded their
fingers, bringing their linked hands to his mouth. He kissed Bill's hand, then
tucked their hands into the crook of his own neck and closed his eyes. "Thank
you."
"My pleasure," Bill said, smiling against the back of Oliver's neck.
"It's going to be weeks again, isn't it?" Oliver asked softly. The corners of
his mouth turned down and he closed his eyes. He really hated this part.
"At the very least," Bill admitted. "They don't like us wasting the cool winter
days in travel when we could be working. I might manage April for a visit home,
but anything before that will have to be for the bank."
"Okay." Oliver's voice was a bare whisper. He swallowed hard and brought their
hands to his mouth again to kiss Bill's fingers. He knew if he said anything
else it would be begging Bill to stay, or to take him to Egypt, or to say
something Bill didn't want to hear so he kept his mouth shut and savoured the
way Bill's body felt against his own.
Bill said nothing, because there was nothing he was willing to say that would
make it better for Oliver. The sweet, tender things he sensed Oliver wanted to
hear would only complicate things between them. So Bill just held him instead,
breathing in tandem with him as the minutes ticked by.
Eventually there was no time left, and still silent, Oliver reluctantly
disentangled himself from Bill and rose from the bed they'd spent so much time
in together. He showered quickly and then once dressed, went back to sit on the
edge of the bed. Reaching out, Oliver brushed the hair back out of Bill's eyes
and managed a small smile. "I can get myself back, you know."
Not quite ready to say goodbye just yet, Bill caught Oliver's hand and pressed
a kiss to the centre of his palm. "I'll go with," he said, one corner of his
mouth lifting up into a small grin. "Just in case there are any more overly
helpful porters about."
That made Oliver laugh softly. "I appreciate the protection," he said, curving
his fingers along Bill's jaw. He didn't want to go. His own jaw worked as he
grit his teeth before he said, "You'd better get dressed, then. You can't go
like that." Oliver's eyes drifted down Bill's body possessively before he
looked away. God, he thought dejectedly. April. His shoulders slumped.
Bill sighed quietly, and rolled away. He washed up and dressed quickly, pulling
on a dark blue jumper and a pair of snug jeans, completely forgoing pants. Once
he had his boots and socks on, Bill sauntered over to Oliver where he still sat
on the bed, and tugged him up, wrapping long, strong arms around the younger
man. "All packed?" he asked, because there wasn't much else to say.
Oliver wrapped himself around Bill and buried his face in his chest. He nodded
and then laughed, the sound muffled in Bill's jumper. "I didn't really unpack
to begin with," he surfaced to say with a teasing grin. It's not like he'd
needed clothes the last few days.
"That's true," Bill said, and Summoned Oliver's bag. He kissed Oliver's nose
lightly, smile a bit softer than he'd meant, and then Apparated them to an
alley near the station. Kings Cross would be filled with people because of all
the holidays, so Bill took one more stolen moment and covered Oliver's mouth
with his own, kissing him once more. "I'll see about sooner," he whispered,
lips to lips. "No promises, mind."
"Okay," Oliver whispered again, far more hopeful than the last time. "I have to
go," he said again but instead of pulling away he leaned closer, tilting his
head to kiss Bill deeply, sliding his tongue against Bill's. He hummed. "Write
to me." He pulled away but only made it half a dozen steps before running back
for another quick kiss. "Bye."
Another kiss and a laugh against Bill's mouth and Oliver was gone, headed for
the station at a quick lope. He couldn't look back, not if he wanted to make
the train.
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