Confessions
Chapter 3: Confessions
Over the next few weeks, Percy and Oliver fell into an easy pattern of grabbing casual drinks or meals together whenever their paths crossed. At first, Percy told himself it was merely two old friends reconnecting, a balm for nostalgic souls. Yet the more time they spent in each other's company, the more he came to crave Oliver's presence like a salve for his solitary existence.
While his rational mind urged caution about rekindling complicated feelings, Percy couldn't deny the magnetic pull that lured him back into Oliver's orbit again and again. It was like a siren song he didn't possess the wherewithal to resist.
During their increasingly frequent meetings, Percy noticed the smallest gestures taking on weights they didn't possess before – the way Oliver's eyes crinkled warmly at the corners whenever Percy made him laugh, or how the other man seemed to lean fractionally closer with each shared anecdote. He cataloged every nuanced touch and loaded glance like a priceless artifact to be studied and dissected endlessly.
The simmering tension was exquisite torment, both intoxicating and utterly distracting.
One Friday evening found them ensconced in a corner booth at a dim, out-of-the-way pub, nursing Firewhiskeys as rain pattered against the window panes. Oliver was in the midst of recounting some grand tale from his Puddlemere days, indulging in his typical theatrical flair. Percy barely heard a word, too absorbed in the rich timbre of Oliver's voice and the shape of his lips as they quirked around each syllable.
"—and that's how you dodge a Bludger attack by flipping right off the side of your broom upside-down in the middle of a tailslide," Oliver finished with a proud grin.
Percy blinked slowly, inwardly replaying the last few sentences in hopes of grasping the context. Judging by the expectant look on the other man's face, he clearly awaited some sort of reaction.
"You...certainly had a flair for the dramatic, even back then," Percy deflected carefully.
The corners of Oliver's mouth tugged downwards, seeing right through his feigned interest. "You weren't paying any attention, were you?"
"What? No, I—"
"Don't bother denying it." Oliver huffed a resigned sigh, though his eyes glittered with amusement. "I know that dazed look better than anyone. Your mind was miles away, Weasley."
Oliver leaned forward across the table, closing the distance between them to mere inches. Percy could make out each individual laugh line crinkling around the other man's eyes.
"Care to share just where it was you drifted off to?" Despite his teasing tone, there was an undercurrent of something heated in his gaze.
Percy found himself momentarily transfixed, drinking in the flecks of gold amidst the warm brown irises studying him so intently. Heat crept upwards from the collar of his robes as he fought off a potent rush of longing.
He knew what Oliver was doing, challenging him to admit where his thoughts had truly wandered. Baiting him in that irresistible way he always had to broach the unspoken tension crackling between them.
Percy cleared his throat, trying to project an aura of nonchalance even as his heart rate quickened. "Apologies. I'm afraid the thrilling details of your Quidditch escapades were simply too...stimulating to follow."
He congratulated himself on the smooth deflection. Yet Oliver's eyes remained locked on his, dark pupils swallowing the hazel irises as his gaze suddenly burned with unmistakable intent.
"Is that so?" Oliver murmured, voice pitched low enough to elicit an involuntary shiver down Percy's spine. "Well then, we can't have that now, can we?"
One of Oliver's booted feet slid forward to nudge against Percy's shin beneath the table, igniting sparks everywhere their bodies connected. Percy's breath hitched as Oliver's other hand snaked across the scarred wood, fingertips ghosting along Percy's wrist until they came to rest atop his fingers, engulfing them.
"I think it's high time I stimulated you in...other ways."
Oliver punctuated the blatant innuendo with a slow wink that utterly derailed any coherent response Percy could muster. He was intensely, deliciously aware of every point where the other man's heated skin brushed against his. A familiar yet long-suppressed ache blossomed within his core, a sweet agony demanding to be sated after so many years apart.
Before he could second-guess himself, Percy turned his hand over so their palms met in a searing caress, tangling their fingers together properly. He held Oliver's smoldering gaze in silent challenge, heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"Is that so?" He threw Oliver's earlier words back at him, lips quirked in a mirror of the other man's roguish smirk.
Oliver's pupils blew wide, his sharp inhale audible. There was no mistaking the sudden need and want blazing in that look.
Percy wasn't quite certain which of them closed the final scant distance first, but suddenly they were kissing like the world was ending. Searing, hungry, desperate – giving voice to over a decade's worth of unspoken temptation and want.
Oliver's free hand slipped into the hair at the nape of Percy's neck, holding him firmly in place. Not that Percy had any intention of leaving this embrace, not when he could finally chase the flavor of Oliver's tongue with his own after all this time.
When at last they broke apart, chests heaving, Percy was gratified to see Oliver looked equally as wrecked as he felt. The heat and possessive intent in Oliver's darkened eyes sent blood pounding in Percy's veins as urgently as if they were still two hormone-addled teenagers rutting together in their dormitory all those years ago. Percy fought to catch his ragged breath, his entire body thrumming with awakened desire.
"Merlin, Perce..." Oliver rasped, trailing off as he raked an openly appreciative look over Percy's flushed features and swollen lips. His thumb traced the sharp line of Percy's jaw with maddening tenderness. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
A shuddering exhale escaped Percy at the husky admission, warmth blooming in his chest at the devotion burning in Oliver's eyes. How was it possible to crave someone this ardently after so much time apart? It was as if the lingering embers of their Hogwarts passion had been stoked into an inferno.
"I think I have some idea," he murmured, leaning into the caress of Oliver's palm against his cheek.
They stayed like that, suspended in their own private oasis as the bustling pub faded into the periphery. Percy drank in every detail of Oliver's face as if committing it to memory – the dusting of freckles across his nose, the faded scar nicking one eyebrow, the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of those whiskey-warm eyes.
How had he talked himself into denying this for so long? Repressing and compartmentalizing these all-consuming yearnings for propriety's sake? Looking into Oliver's eyes and seeing those same embers reflected back at him made every sacrifice seem utterly worthless.
"What are we doing here, Perce?" Oliver finally broke the weighted silence, his gaze searching. "Waxing poetic over old memories and missed opportunities?"
He leaned forward until their foreheads rested together, his quiet exhale ghosting over Percy's lips in a tantalizing caress.
"Or are we finally going to stop running and face what's been there all along?"
Percy's breath hitched at the unvarnished honesty and vulnerability in Oliver's tone. He opened his mouth to respond, but found no adequate words to convey the swirling vortex of emotions coursing through him.
So instead of speaking, he simply kissed Oliver again. Softly at first, then with growing fervor as months – years – of repressed longing bubbled to the surface.
Oliver met his ardor with equal enthusiasm, snogging him deeply with a passion that robbed Percy's lungs of air. When they parted, breathless and exhilarated, he rested his forehead against Oliver's once more, savoring the electric connection fizzing between them.
"I don't want to waste any more time overthinking this," Percy admitted in a low rumble. "I want you, Oliver. To hell with propriety or what anyone else will think."
A wolfish grin split Oliver's face as he claimed Percy's lips in another bruising kiss, all teeth and urgency. "Brilliant answer," he panted when they separated again. "Because I don't intend to let you slip through my fingers a second time."
Something low in Percy's abdomen tightened at the possessive statement. He knew Oliver's determination and fierce competitive spirit all too well – once he'd locked onto a goal, he pursued it with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
The prospect of being the object of that single-minded focus sent desire searing along Percy's nerves.
All he could do was nod frantically as Oliver grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the booth, already steering them towards the exit.
"My place or yours?" he growled against the shell of Percy's ear, every rumbling timbre reverberating straight to Percy's core.
"Mine," Percy choked out without a second's hesitation. Common sense could barely penetrate the haze of lust clouding his mind, never mind adherence to rules or protocol.
All he knew was Oliver's smoldering gaze and the promise of skin finally – blessedly – meeting skin. He would deal with the rest of the world's opinions and judgments in the harsh light of morning. For now, the roaring in his ears drowned out everything else.
They burst out into the darkened London street like randy teenagers, letting the misty rain envelop them in its cool caress. Oliver snaked an arm around Percy's waist, the solid heat of his embrace blotting out all else as they quickly sought out a secluded alleyway to Disapparate.
Within moments the familiar compressive squeezing sensation enveloped Percy, whisking him away from the bustling city towards Percy’s flat.
They landed gracelessly in Percy’s living room, already panting and tangled around each other. Percy knocked over a pile of records and a lampshade in his eagerness, not caring in the slightest when his back hit the wall. Every nerve ending in his body sung with feverish intensity.
"Finally," he groaned as Oliver pressed hot, hungry kisses along the column of his bared throat. "I've wanted this for so bloody long..."
"So have I," Oliver echoed raggedly between nips of his teeth. His hips rolled in a slow grind that had Percy shuddering at the delicious friction. "Merlin, Percy, you have no idea—"
Abandoning speech, Oliver sealed their mouths together in a heated exchange of teeth and tongues as they rapidly divested each other of garments. Shirts fell away, belts clattered to the floor, and then glorious skin was flush against heated skin at last, and Percy thought he might actually burn alive from the incendiary contact. He drank in the sight of Oliver's bare chest and toned torso hungrily, committing every ridge and plane to memory.
"You're gorgeous," he rasped without thinking, skimming reverent fingertips across Oliver's sculpted abdominals. "Absolutely bloody gorgeous."
Oliver captured his wandering hand, raising it to his lips to brush fevered kisses across Percy's knuckles and palm. His eyes burned with a mixture of tenderness and smoldering desire.
"Look who's talking," he murmured against Percy's skin.
And then they were kissing again, all finesse abandoned in favor of unbridled need. Oliver walked them backwards without breaking contact until Percy's calves hit the sofa, tumbling them down in a tangle of limbs.
They rolled together, greedy hands mapping out the hard lines and soft planes of each other's bodies. Every brush of skin against sensitized nerves kindled the exquisite tension coiling low in Percy's abdomen.
"Oliver..." he panted out the name like a prayer as the other man's teeth grazed the tendon in his neck. "Please, I need—"
"I know, love," Oliver soothed in that low, gravelly timbre that made Percy shudder. "I've got you, I promise."
He shifted until he was poised above Percy, framed between his splayed thighs. Percy marveled at the picture Oliver made – kiss-swollen lips, mussed hair, and blown pupils devouring every inch of Percy's prone form with naked hunger.
"So bloody beautiful," Oliver rasped before ducking down to capture Percy's lips in another consuming kiss.
This. This was everything Percy had been denying himself for far too long. More than mere physical pleasure – the soul-deep connection of baring himself so intimately to the only person who ever truly understood him. Who challenged him, inspired him, cherished him in a way no one ever had.
Oliver's lips trailed a scorching path down Percy's neck, his chest, nipping at every patch of newly uncovered skin. And when those wicked lips finally, finally encircled Percy's aching length in wet velvet heat, he had to choke back a strangled cry. Oliver hummed in approval, the vibrations ricocheting through Percy's very bones as he deftly demonstrated just how talented that sinful mouth was.
Percy was vaguely aware of his own litany of broken pleas and curses, hips straining upward of their own volition to chase Oliver's exquisite suction. But it still wasn't enough – he needed more, craved every fiber of their bodies joined.
Tangling his fingers in Oliver's hair, he reluctantly tugged until Oliver released him with one last slick pull. The other man's eyes were dark and glazed with heady lust, thoroughly wrecked.
"Oliver, please..." Percy tugged him upward until their bodies aligned, no space remaining between them. He hooked a leg around Oliver's hip, aligning them perfectly as they both panted into the scant distance.
"You're sure about this?" Oliver's voice was rough as granite, but his eyes still searched Percy's for any inkling of doubt or hesitation.
In answer, Percy simply arched upwards to claim Oliver's lips in a searing, desperate kiss as the final vestiges of control slipped through his grasp. He was utterly powerless against this man, this connection that transcended a decade of self-denial and stubborn solitude.
"Yes," he gasped when they separated just long enough to let the words bleed out from wherever they'd been trapped inside him. "Always yes, with you. Only you."
Something fractured behind Oliver's eyes at the confession – some final resistance crumbling as he surrendered to their shared inferno. Every muscle went taut as he slid home in one fluid motion, punching a raw, guttural groan from Percy's depths as they finally became one.
They moved together after that, frenzied yet deeply attuned, savoring the dance. Each precise stroke stoked the flames licking along Percy's veins until his universe narrowed to Oliver's eyes – those piercing pools of gold and umber framed by sooty lashes, drinking him in with unconcealed adoration.
Percy reached blindly for purchase as the tension crested, gathering the sweat-slicked strands of Oliver's hair in his fists like a lifeline anchoring him to this reality. He had never felt more seen, more cherished, more utterly consumed than under the heat of Oliver's reverent gaze.
When they finally crashed over that precipice together, Percy could almost swear he glimpsed the fractured shards of his soul knitting back into completion at long last.
Afterwards, as Percy traced idle patterns across the dusting of freckles on Oliver's shoulder, he couldn't ignore the fundamental shift in their universe. Every justification for his reticence now seemed achingly hollow under the weight of his profound devotion for this man.
They existed in their own gilded oasis of intimacy, the rest of the world temporarily suspended as Oliver pulled him closer into his warm, solid embrace. Every unhurried brush of skin and pressed of lips conveyed far more than words ever could.
"So," Percy finally broke the lull, smile tugging at his lips as he basked in the afterglow. "I can now definitively confirm your dramatic tales have done no justice to your, ah...oral talents on the Quidditch pitch."
Oliver snorted, giving Percy's side a playful poke. "Git. You're just lucky I'm feeling too bloody brilliant to hex you."