alisanne

Title: The First Time
Author:

alisanne
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Oliver Wood
Summary: Reminiscing leads to something new.
Word Count: 1046
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for

hp_may_madness/

hp_may_madness' 2018 fest.
Day Fourteen prompt(s) used: The boy is mine/ tattoo
Pairing: Harry/Oliver
Kink: first time
Beta(s):

sevfan and emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

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The First Time

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“Remember the first time we met?”

Harry, looking through Oliver’s pictures on his mantel, turned around. “Of course. I was an ickle firstie, with no clue what Quidditch was, and Professor McGonagall called you, the Quidditch captain, to mentor me after breaking all the rules to put me on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

“In her defence, we were desperate.” Oliver grinned. “Drink?”

“Sure,” said Harry. “Old Ogden’s if you have it.”

“That I do.” Oliver nodded approvingly. “You’ve good taste. Anyway, I remember that day, too.”

Harry snorted. “Why would you remember anything about me?”

Oliver gave him a flat look. “You were still Harry bloody Potter. Ickle firstie or no, everyone knew you.” He grinned. “Plus, we were all pretty chuffed when you Sorted Gryffindor. Surely you saw the Weasley twins leading a chant about it? I’m pretty sure I even saw McGonagall mouth something like, ‘the boy is mine’. Trust me, I knew who you were.”

“Wow. Well you certainly didn’t show it.” Harry accepted the glass Oliver poured for him. “You acted like I was just any other kid who you had to mentor and teach about Quidditch.” He raised his glass in a salute. “I appreciated that, actually.”

Oliver nodded. “I’m sure. At the time it was more, but I didn’t want to look like an idiot, so I acted as if I wasn’t in awe of you.”

“You did a good job,” said Harry, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on a chair.

“Well it wasn’t an act by the time I got to know you. You’re one of the most down-to-earth blokes I’ve ever met.” Oliver grinned. “And I know that for a fact now. Some Quidditch players can be…” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say they can take themselves quite seriously.”

“What are you saying?” Harry asked, pretending to be shocked. “You can’t possibly be implying that anything and everyone associated with Quidditch isn’t perfect?”

Oliver laughed. “Prat,” he said. “Fine, I suppose I deserved that. I was quite serious about Quidditch as a kid.”

Harry snorted as he took a seat, placing his drink on a side table. “And as an adult. In fact, I seem to recall that only last week—”

Oliver held up a hand in defeat. “All right, all right! So I like Quidditch. And I happen to think it’s one of the best things ever invented.”

“No! Really?”

Oliver held up two fingers in a rude gesture.

Laughing, Harry raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to fight!”

“No?” Oliver smiled, settling next to him on the sofa. “Why are you here exactly?” he asked softly.

Clearing this throat, Harry looked away from his searching eyes. “Oh, you know. I was just in town on a case and—”

“Harry.” Oliver’s low insistent tone made Harry turn back towards him. “We both know that’s not it. Tell me why you’re really here.”

Harry sighed. “It feels as if we’ve been dancing around something for a while now, and I was curious to see if it’s just me or you felt anything— Oof!”

While the kiss was a surprise, Harry wasted no time in responding, arching closer to Oliver and moaning into his mouth. When Oliver pulled back to kiss Harry’s neck and undo the buttons on his shirt, he whispered, “In case it’s not clear, the answer’s yes. I’ve felt it, too.”

“Brilliant,” gasped Harry, moaning as Oliver tweaked his nipples before moving his hands downward towards Harry’s cock.

Pressing Harry into the sofa, Oliver made short work of his trousers before moving back and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of Harry. “Nice tat,” he said, brushing his thumb over the whirring Snitch tattoo on Harry’s hip.

“Thought you’d like that,” said Harry. He swallowed hard as Oliver bent close to kiss it.

“Oh God,” murmured Harry, his hand tangling in Oliver’s hair. “You know we don’t have to move this fast if you want to take more time—”

“Actually,” interrupted Oliver, pressing Harry’s legs apart to stare at his cock, “I think we do.” And leaning forward, he licked the tip.

Closing his eyes, Harry gasped and moaned as Oliver teased and licked before finally swallowing him to the root and sucking. Arching his back, Harry clenched his fingers in Oliver’s hair as his cock pulsed far sooner than anticipated, sending warm come down his throat.

Once he was done, and Oliver’s mouth slipped off him, Harry struggled to catch his breath. “Sorry. I’m not usually so quick, but I’ve been dreaming about that for ages—”

“No need to apologise.” Oliver crawled his way up Harry’s body, kissing him. Smiling against his mouth, he continued, “First times are for fast and dirty sex. Next time we’ll be slow and thorough.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

Oliver drew back, searching Harry’s eyes. “Yes, ‘next time’. I’m fucking Harry bloody Potter. If you think I’m letting you go easily, you’re mad.”

Looping his arms around Oliver’s neck, Harry grinned. “And I’m fucking Quidditch legend, Oliver sodding Wood, so ditto.”

“Looks like we should move this to bed, then, hm?” said Oliver, dropping a quick kiss on Harry’s mouth before standing and offering him a hand up. “After all, I’ve a game tomorrow and the coach will not be amused if I tell him I wrenched my back with vigorous and acrobatic sex.”

Talking Oliver’s hand, Harry rose. “Don’t worry, old man,” he teased. “I’ll take it easy on you.”

Snorting, Oliver dragged him close, kissing him until he was gasping. “You were saying?” he whispered, drawn back from a dazed Harry.

Harry chuckled. “Fine, we’ll take it easy on each other. After all, I don’t want to have to tell my boss I’m calling in sick because a Quidditch player broke me with spectacular sex.”

“Spectacular, hm?” Oliver grinned as he drew Harry down the hall and presumably towards his bedroom. “You’ve high expectations.”

“Absolutely. I have it on good authority that everyone associated with Quidditch is perfect.” Harry gave Oliver a slow once-over. “And so far, that’s proved true.”

“Oh, I think we’re going to get along just fine,” purred Oliver, leading Harry to his bed.

And they did.

~