Title: Percy's Perfect Lips
Rating: PG-13/T
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Percy Weasley
Summary: Oliver thinks Percy's lips are perfect.
Warnings: Slash
---
Percy's Perfect Lips
---
The library was quiet and warm, sharpening the smell of old paper considerably. Silent yellow sunlight streamed through the high windows, flecks of white dust dancing with a magic all their own. The wood of the tables was shiny redwood, undisturbed by rowdy schoolboys and giggling schoolgirls. The books, thousands upon thousands, resting in their shelves, waited patiently for caring hands to slide across their pages.
Oliver Wood might have looked a bit strange in the library. He would be in his quidditch, robes, streaks of mud on his cheeks and weighing down the hems of his pants. More often then not he had blood on him somewhere. He was tanned and screamed of the outdoors.
But he was always noiseless, and he was never bored. Because Percy Weasley, he had discovered, had perfect lips.
He would sit, head in hand, while Percy went on in an inaudible whisper about this Charms assignment, or that Potions test. Oliver never really listened, just watched the lips, so tensed and pursed in the outside world, but relaxed into soft, pink fullness here. He would watch them move, tug into a smile here, pull into a frown there. Flawlessly wrap themselves around words, just baring the slightest amount of dazzling white teeth.
When Percy had a quill, he drove Oliver crazy. Brushing the soft feather against his pouting mouth as he read or worked on a paper. The quidditch captain more then once had the urge to either throw the quill away and ravish Percy's perfect mouth right there on the table, or simply become the quill itself, caressing his love's lips discreetly.
Oliver would pull Percy away from his reverie, into some dusty, forgotten corner of the library, slide his hands around the Prefect's slim waist, unconsciously flexing his arms slightly as Percy ran his hands over them, trying to impress. He would run a thumb along Percy's pale skin, through his curls. And then he would capture those perfect lips with his own, kissing and sucking at them until they were flushed and swollen and more beautiful then ever. He would run a tongue along them, pleading permission, which Percy always granted. He would explore Percy's teeth and tongue, and, again, lips, until they both had to pull away and gasp for breath.
Then Madam Pince, who, in Oliver's opinion, was completely insane, who come shrieking at them to get out immediately, this was a library, not a brothel. Percy would blush and stammer an apology, but once Oliver made the mistake of commenting that the books might like a little action here and there. The librarian picked up an inkwell and threw it at him.
They would leave, and Oliver always came back the next day with the same thing in mind. Percy's perfect lips.