|Slash Pervert (slashpervert) wrote,|
@ 2008-02-13 15:03:00
|Entry tags:||fiction, oneshot|
Stretching the Limits (Oliver/Seamus)
Title: Stretching the Limits
Authors: slashpervert and nothingbutfic.
Betas: brknhalo241 and Mini Mouse.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Length: 4402 words
Warnings (Mark to Read): Language, Explicit M/M sex, oral. Teacher/student.
Summary: Oliver Wood attempts a second flying lesson with Seamus Finnigan but they end up stretching their limits.
Notes: Written post-HBP, pre-DH. No spoilers. One-shot that can be read separately, but follows Flying Fun.
Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fan fiction intended for adult audiences only. No copyright infringement intended. (Full Disclaimer!)
Oliver pulled his practise gear on and tried not to think about what he was doing. Just giving the lad lessons in flyin', tha's all. He told himself this was true. And he tried to keep the smile friendly, not showing his delight, when he found the young man waiting in the Gryffindor common room. "Good morn'n, Seamus. Wanna go ta' the pitch?"
"Mornin', sir. I mean, Captain. I mean, sir." Seamus blushed slightly, embarrassed as he fumbled through what to call Oliver. "I mean ... which would you prefer?" he asked openly, before confiding: "If I'm goin' to make a fool of meself, I could at least clarify for future occasions."
Oliver grinned at the younger man. Damn, but he was cute when he stammered like that. "I s'pose that depends on the o'casion, dinnae it? In here," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the room, "It's Professor Wood. Out there," he pointed to the area of the Quidditch pitch, "ye can call me Captain."
Another broad grin. Seamus did like to push things every now and again. "I think I prefer you when you're me Captain," he said, brazenly - but he could have just been talking about the lessons, of course - and strode out the door of the common room to head towards the pitch.
Ye shoulda told him to call ye Professor all th' time! Oliver's inner voice chided him. But, oh, how he loved it when the lad flirted with him like that. Shaking his head, he hitched his broom over his shoulder and followed Seamus out of the castle and to the pitch.
Seamus strode along easily, broom clasped with a sort of relaxed confidence he didn't truly feel. When they got to the pitch, he stood - gripping his broom properly - preparing to mount. "Oh. You want to stretch, Captain?"
"It's best, tha' way," Oliver answered and dropped to the ground to start stretching his leg muscles. "Ye need ta work the kinks out o' yer leg muscles," demonstrating one of the long stretches.
After a few moments of watching, Seamus dropped to the ground and followed suit, distracted from any erotic appeal by the sheer grunt and sweat of having to attempt what Oliver made look easy.
Oliver's practised eye looked at the boy’s stretch and he reached out to help Seamus find a better position. "Ye have ta move yer foot this way," and he almost stopped breathing when he laid his hand on the young man's thigh to help him turn into the stretch. The feel of Seamus' muscle under the thin fabric brought flashes of his naked flesh from last week. Gritting his teeth not to show his reaction, Oliver continued as the boy followed his direction, "See tha's got it."
Seamus flashed a smile at him; the words were out of his mouth before he realised what they could mean. "You know just how to order me about," he grinned, flirting as he would with anyone, and then he remembered that this was a teacher - and Oliver had his hand on his thigh - and Oliver's face was almost close enough to kiss. He stilled, suddenly frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
Oliver's eyes widened at Seamus' daring and he looked up to find the young man staring at him, his face only inches away. He smiled into the lad's eyes and said, his accent getting thicker with the heat he was feeling, "Nae, darlin', ye cannae freeze lik tha', ye could hurt yerself." But for the life of himself, he couldn't withdraw his hand, and continued to crouch beside the young man, smiling into his eyes.
"But if I did ...." Seamus said slowly, a little flushed, and slightly matter of fact as he pieced it together word by word. "You'd be there to take care of me, right, Captain?" He shifted a little against Oliver's hand. "... I mean, that's your responsibility, isn't it? Or I am."
Oliver's breath caught and his mouth was suddenly dry. This lad cannae be meaning wha’ he’s implying. He’s just playing around. But the look in Seamus' eyes seemed so open and direct. Oliver brought one hand to the small of the younger man's back and slid his other hand along Seamus' thigh. He told himself he was just showing him a better position for the stretch. Still holding Seamus' gaze, Oliver licked his own lips before saying, "That's it, lean ina th' stretch more. Aye, ah'll nae let ye fall."
Seamus did as he was bid, curling in closer to Oliver's touch, muscles bunching and flexing as he stretched. "It's good to know you won't let me fall, Captain." Another bold grin.
Oliver laughed, shifting so that he still held his hand at Seamus' back but pulled the other one back to rest on his shoulder. Okay, the lad's just teasing me. This is him just having some fun. Dinnae make it more’n it is, Wood. He tried not to be disappointed with this conclusion. All Finnigan wants is extra pointers on flyin’. He chided himself even as he smiled.
With a sudden, certain spitfire bravado that surprised even him, Seamus' instinctual reaction was to level his eyes and ask "Did I tell you to take your hand away? It's not like I wasn't appreciatin' bein' touched by a gorgeous man, and considerin' it was the highlight of me year so far, you can damn well put it back!" Then he coloured. "... I mean, uh, please, Captain."
It was Wood's turn to blush at that. "Cheeky, aren't cha?" he asked as his eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up. Looking Seamus in the eyes, he continued, "Um, lad, ye cannae mean that. Me be'n yer teach'r n awl?"
"Just look at you," Seamus said flatly, as if he saw Oliver to be stupid, and then he flushed more at his impetuousness. "Not, like, I'm desperate or anythin', or that I could think you'd ever like me, but maybe a boy ... would like a stronger bloke with authority, even a teacher, and uh ... I should run away now, right?"
Oliver closed his mouth on the first retort he had been about to make, and took a long serious look at Seamus Finnigan. Then he stood up, dusted himself off, and offered a hand to the younger man, "C'mon, we'd better talk, an nae out here."
Seamus, still blushing, took that hand and used it to pull himself up, adjusting his sweats. "Your office, then?"
Oliver's office was pretty sparse. He hadn't brought much with him when he arrived. He had a trunk sent on the train but most of his things were still stored. This was, after all, only a position he had taken to help McGonagall get the school open. At some point she would find a regular teacher and he would go back to playing Quidditch professionally. He had taken a quick shower. Really quick because he wasn't going to let his mind wander this time and changed into some trousers and a simple jersey shirt. He heard a knock at the door and took several deep breaths before sitting down and calling out, "C'mon in."
Seamus had just changed into jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing major, really. He shuffled inside, not really sure at all what he was getting himself into.
"Ye dinnae have ta be here unless ye want to," Oliver said smiling at the nervous young man. Then he stood and walked over to Seamus, standing with his hands on his hips looking down at him. "This cannae be a school lark ta tell awl yer friends."
And Seamus looked up at him at that, jaw prominent and spine straight. "I'm not after a lark, and if you think that's all I would want, then you don't respect me very much."
The fiery response made Oliver grin -- and made him hard just standing there. Oh, Gods, but this lad was a spark. What am I gonna do with him? Well, I certainly can think of lots of lovely ideas. He shook his head, smiling. "Naw, lad, I cannae say I know ye well, yet," he said and reached his hand out, sliding his fingers into the honey locks of the boys hair and tipping his head up. "But I would like tae, would like that verra much." With that he leaned forward, using his hand on the back of the young man's head to pull him into a kiss. It was not rough, but neither was it gentle. A kiss that laid possession. Strong and firm against the other man's mouth.
Seamus 'mmphed' into the kiss, standing on tiptoes to meet it, lips pressed strong against lips. His fingers curled up by his sides, and then he gently teased the hem of Oliver's top with his fingertips. When Oliver pulled back, Seamus grinned. "Maybe I like that you're a teacher," raising an eyebrow, “or have you never heard of fantasisin'?"
Oliver Wood held himself in check and looked down at the young man, still holding his hand to the back of his neck, and whispered in a rough voice, "Hey, lad, this nae be fantasisin. This is real. Ye ken?"
Seamus' own voice grew rough in response. "I know. So think 'bout what it'd be like for me to call you 'Captain' or 'Professor' or 'Sir' and have you in your robes just waiting for me to push them aside and suck your cock."
The heat in the boy’s eyes and his bold words were enough to send Oliver over the edge. He was already so hard it was nearly painful. He let go of Seamus and stepped back, "Wait,” he said before pulling his wand and setting Locking and Silencing Charms on the door. He then turned back to the younger man. He wrapped both his hands into the boy's hair and kissed him hard, pressing the length of his body against Seamus.
Seamus melted a little at that kiss. He curled into Oliver's taller, broader body, and when he broke the kiss he was panting. "Mean it," he mumbled. "Love the way you look in your Quidditch gear, or all dressed up for class." He was blushing, as well as panting; it made him look eager and bashful at the same time. "'S why I have all the Puddlemere posters of you."
"Ma eager lad," Oliver smiled as his hands slid down Seamus' back, enjoying the feel of the young man's body under the flimsy t-shirt. Oliver's mouth continued along Seamus' jaw nibbling and licking his way to his neck, while his hands moved lower to cup his arse and pull him tight so that Seamus could feel Oliver's hard cock through his trousers pressed against his hip.
Seamus liked the firm touch of Oliver's hands. It made him feel closer, more secure, more wanted. Then Oliver started to bite and nibble at his neck and something altered in him, then. His eyes went wide, breathing raspy and instinctually grinding against Oliver's hard cock. Oh, Seamus seemed to enjoy being bitten very much.
"Ahh, Gods, Seamus," Oliver groaned as the boy ground against him. He ran his hands back up to the waist of the boy's jeans and roughly tugged the t-shirt up. As his hands touched the skin of Seamus' back, Oliver bit him at the point where his neck and shoulder met. The touch and taste of the boy nearly making him come then.
Another bite and Seamus was hard enough already, operating on some instinctual level. He clawed at Oliver's broad back and muffled his cry into the firm pectorals of his teacher - the grinding didn't stop, either.
Oliver loved the feel of the boy's flesh between his teeth. But he wanted more than that. He pulled his head back, and grasping the edge of the shirt, pulled it over Seamus' head and threw it aside. Then grinned as he admired the view he had uncovered, his hands exploring the exposed flesh from his shoulder, down his chest, lightly rubbing his nipples and then down his stomach to his waist. "Yer a lovely lad," he said softly, almost whispering to himself as he gripped the boy's waist in both hands and pulled him forward, walking backward as he did until he reached the desk.
Seamus came back to coherency a little when Oliver stopped biting. He stood awkwardly at first, unable to cover his chest - he had very large nipples, and he always was ashamed of them. A red blush crept over his skin. "No, I'm not," he murmured in response, but let Oliver carry him where he would.
Oliver looked seriously at Seamus and then gave him the hottest look up and down he could manage. There was no mistaking the admiration and desire in that look. "The better response, ma lad, is 'Yes, sir."
Whatever hesitancy Seamus still felt was eradicated at those words. "Yes, sir," he said simply in reply, voice hoarse with lust and need.
"Tha's better now," Oliver grinned as he sat on the edge of the desk and brought the young man to stand between his knees, wrapping his feet around the back of Seamus' thighs so that he was held tight with his groin against his own. "Ah, tha's verra good," he groaned as he dipped his head down and swirled his tongue around Seamus' left nipple. Oliver's left hand still rested on the boy's waist, but his right hand traced his way up the boy's torso until he could use his fingers to gently tease Seamus' right nipple while he lapped at the now hard left one.
Oliver's voice was like honey, and as for his mouth - Seamus let out a heady whimper as Oliver licked around his nipple, fingers gently, reverentially stroking over Oliver's scalp. He couldn't believe this was happening, but it was, and his cock pulsed again in his trousers.
The sound of Seamus' whimpering was driving him mad, but he forced himself to go slowly, enjoying one nipple before smoothly moving over to lick, nip and suckle at the other. Oliver didn't know what kind of experiences the boy had before, but he wasn't going to push him too far too quick. No matter what his cock was telling him.
Seamus held himself tightly in check, hand settling on Oliver's shoulder like he was using it to anchor himself there. His nipples were now both hard little nubs; he'd never done anything like this, not ever.
"Aye, but y' dinnae ken 'ow beautiful ye are!" Oliver crooned to Seamus as he continued to kiss and nibble the young man's chest. He ran his hands over the smooth flesh and then down past the waist of Seamus' trousers, stroking him through the fabric.
Seamus bit his lower lip. Oliver's words made him blush and feel uncomfortable - he wasn't sure what he could say in response. Still, he wasn't about to leave, and his cock twitched as Oliver stroked it, eliciting a soft moan.
Oliver rested one hand on Seamus' hip and the other on his cock, while pulling back to look the young man in the eye, "Tis wha yer want? ye an me?"
Seamus blinked: the question seemed to startle him out of his lust for a moment - he had to drag his thoughts together. "Uh, yeah. I mean, I'd like to try - if you don't mind ... taking care of someone," he added, looking guilty, and stared at the floor, expecting Oliver to laugh at him.
Oliver leaned forward, dipping his head to find Seamus' lips, kissing him first gently and then more deeply. His hand on Seamus' hip slid around to the small of the young man's back, holding him close even as he explored the young man's mouth.
Seamus whimpered, kissing back in a clumsy, enthusiastic way, no real skill or talent except youthful eagerness. He pressed back a little into Oliver's hand, safe in the knowledge he was being held - comforted that he was secure in Oliver's embrace.
Oliver pulled back, leaving little kisses on Seamus' lips and smiled into his eyes. "Will y' follow yer Captain?"
There was a brief, shuddering reaction and then: "Always," Seamus smiled back, and stood on tiptoes to press his lips to Oliver's. He was bashful and blushing when he pulled away, admitting: "The Captain thing almost made me come in me trousers."
Nodding, Oliver kept his eyes on the young man's face. "Some rules t' this game," he said quietly, "Ye ken?"
Seamus nodded back; he didn't want to make a wrong move here so he kept his responses short and to the point. "For sure. If me mam finds out, she'll kill us both," he said, dryly.
"Then, me lad, yer mum cannae find out. Naw anyone else, ye ken?"
Another nod. His eyes searched Oliver's face. "But when I finish school, if we're together still - public is alright then?"
"When ye are done with school, then the rules change," Oliver smiled. The lad is of age and in seventh year. It wilnae be long. He continued, "Second rule, ye tell me only the truth. Always."
Seamus' eyes glinted, and his mouth curved into something approaching a grimace. "... Didja take me for a liar, or sommat?" he said, flatly. "You'll get no lies from me about what I feel for you."
"Nae ‘bout anything else," Oliver said, "An’ third, ye say so when ye dinnae want something."
That earned Oliver a grin. "You'll find I can be pretty greedy," Seamus remarked, ruefully. "And bitter when I don't get what I want."
Oliver continued to hold the young man, looking serious, "And ye tell me what 'tis ye do want." He kissed Seamus' lips lightly before continuing. "So, wha have ye done and who with?"
"Another boy," Seamus said, demurely. He didn't want to kiss and tell; then he looked down at his feet, embarrassed. "We weren't very ... compatible, or I wasn't very good, or something."
"Good at what?" Oliver continued, not letting the young man off without telling him what he needed to know.
"We just kissed and groped a bit," Seamus continued, still keeping his eyes on floor. He felt like such a virgin.
Oliver rewarded Seamus with another kiss and then pulled him even closer, whispering in his ear, "Did ye suck his cock?"
Seamus shuddered at the words, squirming in Oliver's close embrace, spots of colour on his cheeks. "N-no," he admitted. "Not for want of trying, but yeah - he wanted to go slow."
Holding the boy firm against him with one hand behind his back and the other cupping his head, Oliver licked his ear and then continued to whisper, "And what is it ye wants?"
"To treat you how a boy should treat his Captain," Seamus said shyly, and with an audible hitch in his voice.
"Mmhmm," Oliver murmured, "I want ye ta say it though. Say what ye want to do. The things y' want ta do and have done ta ye."
"Uh," Seamus blushed. "I don't even think I know half the words."
Oliver couldn't hold back any longer, the feel of the younger man pressed against him, the smell of him, it was very distracting. He began to kiss and bite Seamus' neck, his hand on the young man's back running down to his arse.
Seamus grunted when Oliver's hand reached his arse; he arched his neck to offer more to Oliver, hands scrabbling at his shirt.
Oliver released Seamus' head and brought both hands to the boy's arse, while continuing to bite and suck on his neck. After a few minutes of this, he finally pulled himself back and looked into Seamus' face.
The boy was flushed and panting; it took him a moment or two to recover his breath. "Uh. Please. You can't - I've fantasised about you for years, about what I'd do, and what you'd - Why'd you stop?"
Smiling, Oliver put his legs down and pushed the boy back, standing up as he did. He turned, still holding Seamus' hips, so that Seamus was now with his back to the desk. Still keeping his eyes on the lad's face, Oliver slid his hands around to the front of his trousers and began unbuckling Seamus' belt.
Seamus leaned back, comforted somewhat. "Ah, the daydreams I've had about this desk of yours," he teased - it was easier to talk about things. Or getting easier, anyway.
"Tell me," Oliver commanded as he unbuttoned Seamus' trousers and then slid his hands under the waistband of both trousers and pants and along the naked skin of his arse, pushing the pants down as he did.
Seamus sat up a little, helping Oliver to ease his pants down, enjoying the firm feel of those large hands cupping and supporting his arse. "Thought about you bending me over it," he said, shyly. "Or shoving me under it."
Oliver murmured his approval, "Aye, and what were ye doin' under me desk?" He bent and slipped Seamus' shoes, socks and pants off. Then pausing to glance up at the view of the now naked young man.
"Sucking your cock," Seamus growled, low and sultry, in response.
Looking up at Seamus' cock, Oliver smiled. He ran his hands up both the young man's legs, caressing the skin and soft hair until a hand rested on each hip on either side of Seamus' cock.
Seamus bit his lip, looking down at him: he could just picture Oliver blowing him then and there. His cock twitched at the mental image.
Oliver stayed on his knees, so his breath just ghosted over Seamus' cock. He raised an eyebrow and smiled up at the young man, "ye want something, Seamus?"
Seamus reached down to run his fingers lightly over the firm, masculine curve of his professor's mouth. Oliver was so manly that he could barely contain himself - he seemed the epitome of everything masculine, everything solid and protective and necessary in the world. There was nothing weak or girly about him. "Am I your boy, Captain?" he asked, leaning back further on the desk, spreading his legs as if to highlight his cock as it rose from a bush of ashy brown pubes.
"Aye, ye are that now," Oliver answered, bringing his right hand inward to slide over the silky skin of Seamus' cock, wrapping his fingers around it and groaning at the feel.
That same cock pulsed clear pre-come over Oliver's hand; Seamus whimpered at the feel and sight of Oliver stroking him. "I used to jerk off thinking about you doing this to me in your Quidditch gloves," he all but babbled, blushing. "I really do like the Captain thing, don't I?" he realised, a little timid at his own depravity.
Oliver leaned forward and, holding Seamus' cock, ran the head of it back and forth on his lips, smearing the pre-come on them. His left hand smoothed down Seamus' skin to softly cup his bollocks.
"How do I taste?" Seamus asked, licking his own lips. He'd never been quite so daring as to taste himself before - and he hoped Oliver didn't find him too depraved, with the Captain stuff. It hung heavy on his mind for a moment, then he tried to ignore it.
"Y'll find out soon enough," Oliver smiled and then slid his mouth over the head of that cock, rolling his tongue around that soft flesh and breathing in the smell and taste at the same time. "Mmmm," he moaned around the younger man's cock.
It was more than Seamus could stand. He whimpered again, distracting himself from orgasm by pressing his fingers against Oliver's scalp, learning the curves and bumps of his skull - he'd look really hot close-shaven, he realised - but no matter what distraction, that wet, warm mouth was still on him. "Jesus," he breathed.
Oliver slid his mouth down, taking that lovely cock all the way to the back to his throat. Breathing through his nose and syncing it to the movements, he began to slide up and down the shaft, using his right hand to control depth and speed and softly rolling Seamus' bollocks in his other hand.
Seamus' hips twitched and pulled on the desk, shifting him this way and that with jumpy little jerks as he came with an incoherent moan, cock pulsing in Oliver's mouth as it spurted a load of thick come down his throat, leaving Seamus panting and boneless in the afterglow. "S-sorry," he apologized.
Hungrily swallowing and milking Seamus, Oliver was thoroughly enjoying this. The young man's reactions were beautiful. He slowly licked the softening cock, and slid his hands up the boy, rising as he did. He stopped the apology short by bringing his mouth down on Seamus'.
Seamus moaned against and into that mouth, tongue snaking between Oliver's lips to taste the tart sweetness that had to be himself, swallowing it in return.
Oliver kissed and licked the boy's mouth with the same thoroughness he had his cock. His hands came up to cup either side of the boy's face, controlling the kiss and pushing himself against him.
Another moan, and it was all Seamus could do to stop himself falling back on the desk. He fought against the kiss, refusing to surrender completely.
Oliver slid his fingers back along the boy's chin and into that soft hair, curling his fingers into the strands so that he gripped both head and hair. He continued kissing the young man fiercely, fighting for control.
Seamus pulled out of the kiss, gasping, lips bruised and bitten. "You haven't come," he murmured. "'S not fair."
"Aye, is tha’ a request lad?" Oliver looked down at him, hands still wrapped in the young man's hair. His look was fierce and he felt so hard he thought he might break from the tension.
"Yeah, it is. And I have to go soon," Seamus admitted. "They'll notice me gone."
Seamus was laid before him, naked. Oliver reached down and began unbuttoning his own trousers, grinning as he did so. "Yer with ye Captain, dinnae worry about nuthin’ else while with me."
[Yes, it actually ends there!]
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