(Author's Notes: This is the first chapter of three. I hope you enjoy this!
Pairing: Marcus Flint/Percy Weasley, Marcus Flint/Surprise, Percy Weasley/Surprise
Rating: R)
Chapter One -- One Night Alone
"One night alone - just you and me, all we need is
One night alone - that's how it should be
One night alone - you lovin' me, all we need is
One night, one night alone."
"One Night Alone" by Vixen
They agreed that it would be a one-night stand. It would be a simple arrangement – straight, simple sex, and then a promise of silence about anything that went on that night. It was a verbal contract, and one they knew the other would keep. After all, for all his hubris and stubbornness, Percy Weasley followed the rules, and for all his surliness and bouts of cheating in Quidditch, Marcus Flint was the epitome of a closet case.
And so they met in a Muggle motel in the countryside outside London, wearing various charms so that no Muggle would remember their appearances.
Weasley took off his outer robe which had gotten soaked by the slight drizzle outside, a distasteful look crossing his features as he looked around the room they had rented for the night. "A bit seedy, isn't it?" he said, a familiar holier-than-thou note creeping in his voice, and Marcus wondered why he had chosen a one-night stand with him of all people. Oh yes, because Weasley was the only one he'd figured out swung for his side as well. If only it had been someone like Wood! Given, he had his suspicions about Wood, but he still had no evidence to back it up, and so he was stuck with Weasley.
"If it wasn't seedy, we might run into someone we know," Marcus reminded him for the third time since entering the motel. Perhaps he could do a Silencing Spell…at least until Weasley was almost beyond words. Then he could undo the spell and let the Weasley scream his name. He smiled, predator-like, at the thought. Prim, proper Percy screaming his name.
Having probably noticed his smile, Weasley gave him a weary look. "So…shall we start?"
"Shall we start?" Marcus mimicked, and was unable to keep from rolling his eyes. "You sound like this is a Quidditch match, Weasley." He pulled off his own outer robe, and quipped, almost leering at the redhead, "Well, then, let's get…started." As Weasley blushed, Marcus smirked and removed the rest of his robes and his boots, feeling the cool air of the room caress his exposed flesh. This would be straight, simple sex after all. Why bother with attempts to seduce the other man when they could move to the most enjoyable part of the night? Besides, Marcus had never been one to sweet talk.
He watched the lump in Weasley's throat bob up and down, and then he let his eyes move with Weasley's hands as the redhead too shed his clothing and showed off his bare skin. Weasley was skinny and scrawny and pale, but Marcus just stared for a moment, turned on by the familiarity of the otherwise-unappealing figure. It would be so much fun to make the other man scream his name!
Marcus sauntered to stand by the bed, and arched an eyebrow as invitation. He resisted the urge to laugh as Weasley colored and then walked over, awkwardly standing before him. Weasley was appealing only in this inelegance and embarrassment of his, so different than his stuffy holier-than-thou attitude. Without further ado, Marcus grabbed a fistful of Weasley's hair and kissed him, hard.
Weasley froze up for a moment, and then his eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss, hands fluttering around in the air for a moment before they came to rest on Marcus' shoulders. Deepening the kiss, Marcus was startled at how soft the other man's lips were. They were soft, even softer than a girl's, and Marcus found himself closing his eyes and savoring the smoothness for a moment. It had been so long since he'd kissed someone, and that had just been a one-night stand with some Muggle that had left him feeling filthy in the morning.
But this was no time to be thinking of his other one-night stand; he had Percy Weasley here to do whatever he wished to. Eyes still closed, he wrapped his other arm around the man and dragged him into a rough, ravenous embrace, deepening the kiss as Weasley gave a little desperate moan. The noise sent a shudder down his spine, and he suddenly shoved the man away.
"Wha…?" Weasley blinked, face flushed and lips already swollen.
Marcus smirked at him. "Did I say you could speak, Weasley?" The words were almost a purr, and then he unceremoniously lunged at the other man and knocked them both onto the bed. "The only thing you'll be saying is my name." As Weasley opened his mouth to object, eyes darkened by a thousand different emotions, Marcus kissed him hungrily, letting his tongue steal into Weasley's mouth and silence the talkative redhead. The kiss was wet and sloppy, nothing like the prim, proper Head Boy Weasley had once been.
Weasley writhed against him, and he had never felt anything so good as this power over the man who had always been his superior in school, even though Weasley was two years younger. Marcus was the one in charge here, and he liked the supremacy he wielded over Weasley. He kissed the man harder, throwing aside any thought of the softness of Weasley's lips and focusing more on the feeling of Weasley's trembling frame shuddering against his. He pulled his head away for a moment, and smirked at how utterly ravished Weasley already looked.
Wanting to hear more of those desperate little moans, he nipped at that pale, unblemished throat, and was rewarded by a shocked gasp. Marcus smirked again and kept doing it, moving his mouth up and down that throat until the paleness had been replaced by dozens of scarlet marks and Weasley was almost whining, his slender hands clutched at the Slytherin's shoulders like a drowning man.
And then Weasley's hands were suddenly far stealthier than any Gryffindor's should be, and stroking certain areas with an experience that Marcus didn't thought prim, proper Percy ought to have. He found himself mute, lips pressed against the other man's throat but no longer nibbling at the now-reddened flesh, as Weasley simply…took control.
Soft, subtle stroke after soft, subtle stroke, and then Marcus was no longer mute but moaning. He could feel his eyes roll into the back of his head from the pleasure of it all, but couldn't bring himself to mind much that somehow Weasley has usurped his position as the dominant one in this one-night stand. Weasley maneuvered them so that Marcus was flat on his back, and those hands were free to roam anywhere and everywhere they wished.
Marcus arched helplessly into those hands until all wonderings of how exactly Weasley had gotten so good at this fled, until in fact all thoughts fled from his mind, and there was only pleasure. He was vaguely aware that he was babbling, a steady stream of unconscious nonsense.
"That's good…that's really good, Weasley…oh bloody…how'd you k-know to do that…oh, gods…Weasley…Weasley...Percy, oh damn, oh damn, Charlie!"
The hands stopped, and Marcus blinked at the ceiling for a moment, uncertain of why the pleasure was suddenly gone. Then he realized what he'd said, and mentally cursed. Oh bloody hell.
"Charlie?" Weasley sat up and leaned over him, horn-rimmed glasses askew and his expression one of utter disbelief. "Why did you say Charlie?" There was a slight accusation in his question, and Marcus felt himself flush and bristle.
"I didn't say Charlie," he snapped. "You heard things." Shoving Weasley hard in the chest to get him to move, Marcus sat up. "Why would I say Charlie?"
"I don't know," said Weasley, tone puzzled. "You couldn't have met him…." He frowned. "Wait, you're only two years younger than him, aren't you? You would've been in school with him a lot longer than I was."
Marcus growled. Trust Weasley to remember that fact. "I didn't say your brother's name, Weasley, so back off!" He got off the bed, feeling as though someone had doused him with cold water. So much for a fun one-night stand.
"Do you like him?"
He turned to sneer at Weasley, wishing for once the redhead would just shut the fuck up. "Like him? Get that stupid idea out of your head, Weasley. Your brother is hot, hotter than you, that's all. I needed someone else to picture rather than your scrawny frame."
Sitting up in the bed, tousled strands falling across his flushed face and brushing against his swollen lips, Weasley somehow managed to look determined even while semi-ravished. "You're not a good liar, Marcus."
"And you don't know when to mind your bloody business, Percy," he snapped, suddenly itching to just slap the man to see if that would make him leave off. He moved to gather his robes, hands trembling from rage and anxiety. But of course Weasley wouldn't tell his brother, because then he'd have to explain…right? He paused and narrowed his eyes at the redhead. "Don't go talking to him about this."
Weasley looked amused. "My brother probably wouldn't even recognize the name Marcus Flint."
He couldn't quite stop the flinch at that as the amused words stung like a whip across his face. Charlie Weasley, not even remember him when he'd started playing Quidditch just to fly in the same sky as him? "No," he said slowly, and ducked his head, busying himself with gathering his robes and putting them on. "No, I suppose he wouldn't."
There was silence, and then a quiet, "Marcus."
He refused to look up, glaring hatefully at his fingers as they refused to stop shaking. The sooner he got these robes on, the sooner he could leave, but his trembling hands wouldn't stay still long enough for him to get his robes back on.
"Marcus, that didn't come out the way I'd meant."
Marcus kept fumbling with his robes, and his words were flat and low. "No, you're right. I was just another Slytherin to him, a competitor he could beat. He wouldn't remember me at all. I mean, I didn't do anything remarkable. I wasn't even Captain until after he left."
"I know the twins were always sending letters to Charlie about their matches."
He snorted at that. "Bloody wonderful. So if he does know my name, it'll be all the times I've beaten his brothers' arses. I'm sure he'll really think me a great guy after all the shit his brothers have told him about me." Finally managing to get his robes on, he snarled in frustration at the sight of his boots lying haphazard on the floor. How the fuck was he going to get the boots on? "Besides, you're the only fairy among the Weasleys." He tensed at Weasley's laughter.
"Marcus, did you ever see Charlie with a girl?"
Marcus blinked, and looked up. "Well, no, but…." He paused, thinking it over. Wait, Charlie had never dated, had he? He'd just seemed intent on Quidditch and only Quidditch, just like…. "That sneaky bastard, he's as bad as Wood!"
It was Weasley's turn to blink. "As bad as Wood?"
"Pretending all they liked was Quidditch so they wouldn't have to date girls when they wanted to fuck boys! Those sneaky bastards! I only wished I'd thought of it…." He stopped his tirade as he realized Weasley was blinking dazedly and shaking his head.
"Oliver Wood's not a poof," Weasley said, after a moment of Marcus staring at him. "He…never looked at anybody, boy or girl. He's asexual, if anything."
"And how do you know that?" Marcus demanded, and then it clicked, and he laughed. "Well, well, well, if our dear ickle ex-Head Boy doesn't have a crush on the former Gryffindor Quidditch Captain! How adorable!"
"Shut up," snapped Weasley, and looked miserable. Fiddling with his glasses and resettling them so that they were no longer askew, he added in a low voice, "He's never looked once at me. At least with Charlie you might have a chance. With Oliver, I've got no chance at all."
Marcus rolled his eyes. He'd never been invited to people's pity parties and for good reason. He was never sympathetic, at all. "If he never looked at anyone, then he's a poof, Weasley. He didn't dare look at boys and didn't want to look at girls. It's as simple as that."
Weasley looked almost pathetically hopeful. "You think so?"
"C'mon, Weasley, you can see the facts for your own brother but not for the man you fancy?" Marcus snorted again, but his words held no venom. "I'm sure it's the same deal, those underhanded assholes." He half-smirked at Weasley. "Wishing you'd thought of it too? I mean, you had to kiss that Clearwater girl."
The redhead made a face. "She wasn't a bad person, Marcus. She was just…."
"A girl?"
"Precisely." Weasley looked sheepish at that. "She wanted me to marry her after our graduation, you know."
Marcus shuddered at the very thought. "Ugh, glad you escaped that. I mean, I'll probably have to knock up a girl eventually to keep up the family name, but you don't. You've got plenty of siblings to keep on the Weasley name."
"You'll have to knock a girl up?" Weasley's face twisted in disgust. "At least I never had to get that physical with Penelope. Perhaps you can just get really, properly trashed beforehand?"
He grimaced. "Let's get off that subject. I'm getting queasy just thinking about it." Him, with a girl? If he had been entertaining any further lustful urges even with Weasley's discovery of his fascination with Charlie, they were now definitely squashed with the thought of having to have sex with a girl. Marcus smirked and then faked a leer at the Gryffindor. "So, you fancy Wood, and I think your brother's attractive. Guess we won't be having that one-night stand."
Weasley smiled. "You think my brother's attractive? That's an elaborate way of saying you fancy my brother." He hesitated, and then added, "Charlie will be in London for a few weeks right before Christmas. He likes to hang around Diagon Alley for a week or two to shop as he likes for presents. He'll probably visit me--"
"No." His voice was curter than he'd meant, and he saw Weasley looked startled. "No, I don't need you playing matchmaker, Weasley. I handle my own love-life."
"Or lack thereof."
Marcus was back to glaring at the redhead, who looked defiant as he stared back. "I can handle my love-life, Weasley, so back the fuck off." When the other man just continued looking defiant, Marcus tugged on his boots. "I mean it, Weasley, we've got that contract. You don't say anything about what happened here, and that includes what was said here. You're not to talk to your brother about this."
"I understand the contract, and I won't break it," said Weasley, and Marcus was almost relieved to hear the stiff, affronted tone in his voice. Now that was Percy Weasley. "And you won't break it either?"
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Like I'd tell people I slept – or tried to – with Percy Weasley. I don't want people to laugh in my face." Gathering his robes around him, he stalked over to the door. "Don't think I'll look you up again, Weasley. I mean, you don't even put out."
Weasley's shaky laughter followed Marcus out the door and down the stairs. As soon as he was at the base of the stairs, the man smirked. Surely Weasley didn't think he'd actually keep to the agreement? He was a Slytherin! His smirk grew as he stepped out into the now-pouring rain.
He rather thought seeking out his old rival Oliver Wood would be a very good plan.
All right, at the very least a very fun plan.
"Once I had a secret love So I told a friendly star
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I'm so in love with you."
"Secret Love" by George Michael
"When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."
J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince