Even after
a midair fuck, Remus was, by no means, cured of his fear of heights. He still
preferred watch duty to patrolling on broomstick, when it came to divvying
those duties at Order meetings. And he still greatly preferred to watch
Quidditch rather than play it.
Which was
why his feet were planted firmly on the ground while the rest of him was being taken
by a former student. Ironically, a Quidditch-playing former student.
They had
found each other in the club earlier that night, as Remus had been there to get
a little variety once again and Oliver had stopped in after an away game. It
would have been nice to have been able to say they had spotted each other from
across the crowded dance floor and met up in the middle. It would have been
nice if they had been able to skip all awkwardness and conversation and gone
straight into an understanding. And it would have been equally nice if,
following that, they had gone off to the backrooms for fantastic sex.
However,
they met when Remus took his drink from the bartender and turned sharply only
to bump into Oliver Wood and spill the contents of the glass down Oliver’s
front. Remus had jumped in surprised at the sight of Oliver. Sometimes during
the week leading up to his transformation he felt a little more off his game
than usual. “I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling out an orange handkerchief and
blotting at the spill. “I’m feeling far too clumsy tonight.”
Remus could
feel Oliver’s racing heartbeat as he dabbed at Oliver’s chest. Then he moved
the hankie down Oliver’s front, startled at how incredibly fit the man was. He
should have expected as much, but it was still quite pleasant to touch. Remus
found his hand on Oliver’s abdomen a bit too longer than necessary. When he
realized this, he pulled away, blushing a little.
“It’s all
right, Professor,” Oliver said, his fingers curling around the hem of his shirt
and pulling up to reveal a perfect set of hard abs. Since it was wet anyway, he
pulled his t-shirt off completely and tossed it aside. “I don’t mind.”
Remus tried
not to stare, but Oliver had a lovely body. He also had a lovely Scottish
accent, which seemed much richer than Remus remembered. Perhaps that was just a
characteristic of Oliver’s bedroom voice. Because Oliver was clearly showing
off for Remus’ benefit now. Remus could not help but wonder what the rest of
Oliver’s body looked like. Nervously, Remus cleared his throat. “Ah, so how
have you been, Oliver? Harry tells me you play professionally now?”
Oliver
grinned brightly. “Had a game tonight. Not one of the hardest, mind, so we were
expected ta win. But they rested their main keeper
and I got to go in.”
“And you
won?” asked Remus, assuming the answer was yes simply by Oliver’s boyishly
overexcited grin.
“Aye. By a
lot. Blocked all but one shot. Best game of my life.” He beamed.
“That’s great,”
Remus replied. “And the rest of your life?” he asked leadingly, instantly
regretting it. He did not want to be the creepy ex-professor too caught up in
things that didn’t concern him. “I hope it is equally as great.”
Oliver
looked less pleased about that, and shrugged. “I have a nice flat up in Puddlemere but my love life’s taken a wee turn fer the worst. Percy Weasley— you remember Percy?” A shiver
ran through Remus as he nodded. Recent politics and an estranged son were not
topics that aroused Remus. Oliver went on. “Well, he and I were together but we
broke it off a month ago. He got a bit…”
“I know,”
Remus interrupted. “I frequently see his parents and siblings.” He wasn’t about
to drop a detail about their living conditions for fear of anyone overhearing
even a tiny detail about the Order. Besides, the Weasleys
may have had rooms in Number 12, but they spent quite a bit of time at The
Burrow as well. Not surprising considering that the extermination and cleaning
process was taking so long.
“Say hello
to Fred and George for me, then!” Oliver said excitedly. Apparently not all
Weasley topics were off limits. Though Remus resisted mentioning his recent
encounter with the twins’ chocolates. “Anyway, I’m not here to think about the
more unpleasant member of the Weasley clan. I’m here to enjoy myself. I always
like a good fuck after a good win.”
Though
Remus very much liked the sound of that, he kept his reaction to himself and
continued to sport a pleasant smile. Inside, however, he was squirming. The
more Oliver spoke, the more aroused Remus seemed to get. To a trained ear, the
intonations and inflections could trace down the very city of his childhood. But
to Remus’ ear, all he heard was a light Scottish burr that seemed to go
straight to his crotch and pulled at him in all the ways he did not want to be
pulled.
“Would ye
care ta help me, Professor? To tell the truth, I
rather fancied you that year ye taught.” He leaned forward a little and licked
his lips.
Remus
rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, uncertain of what to say. The way
Oliver addressed him reminded him of Harry, however. Thankfully he seemed to
have no urge to address Oliver as ‘Mr. Wood’. This was partly due to the fact
that being in this club and with a shirtless Oliver, Remus did not feel like
being professional. And partly due to the fact that mentioning the word ‘wood’
might make him blush again at the naughty thoughts going through his mind. He
cleared his throat, “Oliver, I’m no longer your professor.”
“Great,”
Oliver said quickly. “That means it’s much more appropriate for me to fuck
you.”
“Oliver!”
Remus laughed.
Oliver
reached forward, grabbing the waist of Remus’ jeans and pulling him close. He
stood only a few centimeters taller than Remus. He turned just enough to give
Remus a glance at the gold hankie in his back pocket. Silver handkerchiefs were
for celebrities and men who wanted sex with men who were famous. While gold
ones, evocative of golden snitches, were for Quidditch players. That usually
meant something like sex in the middle of a pitch or sex while up on
broomsticks, which Remus was slightly curious about but not quite ready for
after last night. Last night had mostly been for Sirius; tonight was for Remus.
“Look, I
can tell ye want me, Remus” said Oliver in a deep, handsome voice. His accent
sent tingles through Remus’ body, especially with the way he slightly rolled
his R’s. “And tonight I want someone who wants me. I want that someone to be
you, Remus.” He took a step closer. “And as your hankie’s orange tonight, it
sounds like you might be up fer this.”
Remus
breathed out as a slow, deep sigh. “You do understand that I would want you
tonight even if you were not a Quidditch player?” Remus wanted to be sure
Oliver got all that he wanted.
“I
understand. But I’m still game.” Oliver moved his head forward, his lips
hovering just above Remus’.
Remus pulled
his head back but did not completely resist. “No kissing. I’m up for this. I just
do not believe we should—”
“I
understand,” Oliver repeated, rotating his hands so his fingers slid down into
Remus’ jeans. “Let’s go find some place where I won’t be kissing you, aye?”
Nodding,
“Aye,” Remus replied, putting himself in Oliver’s hands.
Which is
how he wound up in the backrooms again with his jeans around his ankles and
Oliver’s cock up his arse. Remus was still half dressed, but Oliver had shed
his clothes completely for Remus’ benefit. Remus had not been disappointed, but
had a few additional requests to heighten his pleasure. “Again,” Remus begged as
Oliver plunged into Remus again, his perfect chest hitting Remus’ back, one of
his muscular arms holding Remus in place. “Please? Just once more… all I need…”
Oliver
leaned forward far enough during the thrust to whisper, “Remus,” into Remus’
ear. Remus moaned delightedly. He came and rode the wave of euphoria until Oliver
finished as well several thrusts later.
Smiling and
breathing heavily from exhaustion, Remus glanced over his shoulder as Oliver
pulled out and pulled his jeans on again. “Remind me to keep a closer eye on
Quidditch news the Daily Profit,” he
laughed. “I want to be available next time you’re playing in town and you win a
game.”
Oliver
squatted down and straightened, pulling up Remus’ jeans for him. “I look
forward to it.”