Secrets Revealed

Remus decided that Oliver Wood was going to be the death of him. It seemed the young man was taking time out of his busy professional Quidditch schedule to help the Order, and Remus wasn’t certain he could stand it.

The lad was utterly charming and had the large, liquid brown eyes to add to the effect; he was tanned and lean and had stylishly messy hair. These things weren’t the worst, though, and neither were the glimpses of Oliver’s flat stomach, or the stretch of his short sleeves around defined biceps, or even the fit of his pants over what had to be the most spectacular ass on this end of London. No, instead, it was one tiny detail that had been torturing him since he’d noticed: Oliver Wood, when he wasn’t thinking about it, spoke with a sibilant ‘s.’

It was possible he was reading far too much into it, but he began to notice other small things, now that Oliver spent so much time at the meeting house. He noticed that when Bill Weasley was in the room, Oliver watched him with lazy eyes and spoke to him with a half smile every time. He noticed that when Bill Weasley was not in the room, Oliver did the same to Charlie or Kingsley Shacklebolt or perhaps, if Remus could be certain he wasn’t letting his imagination run away with him, to Remus himself.

Oliver Wood, once a student of his, suddenly became a regular in his nightly fantasies, pretty brown eyes closed to slits, firm lips puffed and wet and slack before they wrapped around his cock. Remus feared he would begin to have wet dreams again, if he didn’t find some way to cope with this.

Then one night, his greater fear came true: he was left alone in the house with only Oliver for company. Oliver was pleasant enough, with his charm and his energy, even if most of it went into talking about Quidditch, just as it always had, it seemed. But the temptation it caused to spend too much time around the young man was torture, particularly when Remus caught himself staring.

He made an effort to avoid him where he could, without seeming rude, but Oliver hunted him down, finally, rushing into the parlor with a magazine in hand and an expression of sheer joy. Remus set his book down when Oliver flopped onto the couch next to him.

“Remus,” he said excitedly, and there, at the end of his name, was that incriminating ‘s,’ strangely appealing though it was, hissing softly from behind his teeth. “Remus, it’s my first published interview. You’ve got to read it.” Remus must have looked startled, because Oliver thrust the magazine at him and said, “Oh, please? I don’t have anyone else to share this with, right now.”

Remus took it – a copy of Teen Witch, the cover claiming to offer fashion tips, tried and true ways to get a man’s attention, and yes, there, "Quidditch Star Oliver Wood: Ten Sexy Secrets Revealed!" Remus raised his eyebrows, and Oliver blushed – charming, again, and Remus wondered if it were possible to overuse that word when it came to this young man.

“Well, I didn’t say it was a proper interview,” Oliver muttered.

Remus laughed a little, then obligingly flipped first to the contents page, then to Oliver’s interview. “It’s alright,” he said. “I was just surprised you’d be so excited over it.”

“Well, I mean. I’m sort of famous now, right? I wish they’d asked me more about the game, ‘cause that’s what it’s really all about, but at least people know who I am. The longer an athlete stays in the public eye, the better his chances of surviving all the cuts and drafts, you know.” Remus just smiled, eyes skimming over the article, aware of Oliver watching him.

“These are your sexy secrets?” Remus finally managed.

Oliver snorted. “No. Those answers are utter shite. You should have heard the questions they asked me. The kind of girls who read Teen Witch want to read that, I guess.”

There was a long silence between them, interrupted only by the sound of flipping pages as Remus closed the magazine. There had been a beautiful photograph of Oliver, too, sitting in a large red chair and smirking, looking a little cocky for the camera, he supposed.

Finally, it was Oliver who broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you want to know what my real sexy secrets are?”

If Remus had had a drink, he would have spit it everywhere. “What?”

Oliver laughed again, this time at himself. “That came out all wrong. What I really meant was… well, I mean, I’ve caught you watching me, sometimes, and, er. You are watching me, aren’t you?”

“I… yes, I suppose I am,” Remus said, startled enough that he could do nothing but tell the truth.

“Good,” Oliver said, then bridged the distance between them, mouth latching onto his. Remus pulled back – or rather, tried, as Oliver followed him quite diligently – until he was leaning over the arm of the sofa.

He only barely managed to push Oliver away, even then. “Oliver, just because I’ve been watching doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“But you’ve been watching. And I think it does mean that you want this.”

And really, there was hardly any way to fight that logic, especially when Oliver was against him again, lips pressed to his and sucking Remus’ tongue into his mouth. His hands roamed, too, and all Remus could do in response was grip those upper arms tightly.

Then Oliver’s hands worked quickly at the buttons of Remus’ shirt, pushing each flap aside, though he seemed to stop caring once Remus’ chest was bared, pressing the older man back into the arm of the couch. Remus’ wrists were trapped by the shirt and his own body weight, though with Oliver sucking enthusiastically at the skin of his neck and chest and stomach, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Oliver pulled his own shirt over his head, leaving his hair a fluffy mess when it was through, but the sight was enough to make Remus’ mouth water – or any of those Teen Witch girls. Oliver surely set a record time in removing both their trousers – at least enough to make use; Remus’ were tangled around his knees.

Then Oliver cast a charm at himself and tossed his wand aside. Next thing Remus knew, there was a young, naked athlete sinking onto his cock. It had to be fifteen years too late for any of his school fantasies to come true, but here one was, riding his cock like he was racing to the finish, giving Remus a nice view of the corded muscles in his back and shoulders, bracing himself with hands on Remus’ hips, which left poor Remus utterly at his mercy, only barely able to buck up into him.

It hardly took any time at all for both of them to finish, Oliver fisting his own cock and muscles clamping and shifting and squeezing all around Remus’ cock.

When it was over, Oliver gingerly pulled off of him, turning over to cuddle up to him on this couch, which struck Remus as odd. “So you are a cuddler?” he asked, once he had worked enough moisture back into his mouth.

“Mmhmm. That one was true, I guess,” Oliver said sleepily.

Remus said nothing more, though his arms were starting to ache. Oliver tucked his head just under Remus’ chin, and Remus smiled almost deliriously, wondering if he would get a chance to find out how many of the other nine “secrets” might be true.