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Percy couldn’t keep his voice down.
He knew Flint was loving it—the gasps, the moans, the little whines that escaped him at every moment—but they were in a back alley behind the Three Broomsticks and every moment Percy was expecting someone to walk by and see them.
It didn’t matter, he thought, as Flint thrusted up into him again, that he’d seen the Slytherin cast a notice-me-not, because he’d had his hands down Percy’s pants at the time and didn’t seem like he’d given it any thought (Percy had found it difficult to cast anything for… obvious reasons.)
Now Percy’s clothes were pooled on the cobblestone and he could hardly think but when he did he thought—it wasn’t Flint’s reputation that would be shattered if they were caught, was it?
“Stop thinking, Weasley—I can hear you.”
Percy bit into Flint’s shoulder where it met his neck. “Make me,” he said, the noise muffled in Flint’s robes. Flint sped up, answering the challenge as he drove into Percy, his hand tight around Percy’s cock as he fisted it.
There was a clatter of glass behind them, and a soft, “Oh.”
Percy’s heart stopped. He knew the voice before he opened his eyes—might have tried to hide his face but his teeth were still wrapped around Flint’s shoulder and he couldn’t have had a clearer view of Oliver Wood, standing behind them, his butterbeer glass rolling on the floor at his feet. His jaw was slack, face apprehensive as he took them in, joined so completely. “I had no idea,” he said softly, before he seemed to return to his senses. “What are you doing, Percy?” His voice was strained, on the edge of a manic laugh.
Flint, still pressing Percy into the wall, only laughed. “What does it look like, Wood? Your golden boy is enjoying himself.” He punctuated the words with another thrust into Percy, who had almost forgotten that Flint was still deep inside him, and felt the breath leave him as his forehead fell back onto Flint’s shoulder, fingers digging into the Slytherin’s arms.
“I can… see that,” said Oliver. Percy couldn’t see his face and he didn’t want to, squeezing his eyes shut and thinking that surely, surely it must be a dream, surely he had not been… found in this way, with Flint, of all people, by Oliver…
Flint suddenly let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Wood—you’ve got fine form there. What, did you want to join?”
Percy seized Flint’s arms, who grunted as his dick was squeezed, and lifted his eyes to see Oliver, red dusting his cheeks, and, true to Flint’s words, already hard beneath his robes.
Flint’s arms wrapped around Percy and took him away from the wall, hoisting him in his grip and turning towards Oliver. Percy’s neck craned to watch his childhood friend as his eyes flicked down to where Flint’s cock met Percy’s ass, no doubt red and slick. His bulge grew more pronounced.
Percy had no idea—that there was even a chance Oliver would harden at the sight of him—Or maybe, he thought again, it was Flint, forcing him in this position, pinning him to his chest—the power of it. That’s—that’s why Percy was there.
Oliver licked his lips and Percy felt his stomach churn. Flint made a deep noise in his throat at the sensation. “He’s tight,” Flint promised, before chuckling and adding, “though, maybe not for your size.”
Oliver’s eyes flicked up to meet Percy’s, with an intense hunger he had never seen before. “Percy?” he asked softly, as though Flint hadn’t said anything at all. “Do you… want this?”
And Percy, whose mouth was so dry he couldn’t talk, only nodded, fingernails still clutching at Flint as he watched Oliver approach. He reached out a soft hand and trailed his fingers down the length of Percy’s spine before dropping his robes to the cobblestone floor and pressing the fabric of his shirt against Percy’s back.
The angle was too hard for Percy’s neck to manage, so he reluctantly let his forehead rest against Flint’s shoulder again, breathing deeply as he felt Oliver moving slowly, listening to the sound of his zipper.
“He won’t fit both of us,” muttered Oliver.
Flint snorted. “You don’t know what he can fit, Wood.” Percy’s breath quickened, but moments later Flint had slipped out of him. His arms were still wrapped around Percy’s legs, holding them aloft for Oliver to access.
He felt a bare arm, the sleeves rolled back, wrap around his waist as Oliver pressed a kiss against the crook of his neck. “Tell me if it hurts,” he murmured as he slid in.
Percy gasped—it wasn’t even the size, which was not all that different to Flint—maybe a little thicker, maybe slightly shorter for it—but the idea of Oliver, that Oliver, with whom he had spent lazy afternoons by the window in Gryffindor Tower, the setting sun casting a golden haze over the memory, now behind him, sheathed to the hilt, his mouth on his skin, breath ghosting over Percy—
Percy shuddered.
“Good little pet, isn’t he?” laughed Flint above him. “Always eager to please—always eager to warm my cock.”
Oliver’s hand pressed into Percy’s stomach, teeth ghosting his skin. “You should have come to me,” he said, voice low and rough, “if you needed this from someone.”
Percy couldn’t help the whine that crawled up his throat, which became strangled as Oliver began to thrust.
“Why would he come to you, Wood?” laughed Flint. “I think Weasley knew who would deliver.”
Oliver made a low noise into Percy’s skin. “Answer me, Percy.” he asked, still thrusting. He hadn’t found it yet, but gods he was close. “Why him?”
Flint sneered. “You want to know? I found him, Wood, in the bathroom, jerking off between classes.” His fingers dug sharply into Percy’s thighs, making him hiss in pain as Oliver grunted behind him. “He begged me to let him suck my cock, and I fucked him with only his own spit.” Flint leaned over Percy’s shoulder, closing in on Wood. “So no, you don’t need to be gentle, Captain.”
Oliver growled and when he thrust into Percy next it was rougher, his jerks more uneven, pressing into Percy and pushing him further into Flint’s chest. And then he hit Percy’s prostate, and a cry was wrenched from Percy’s throat. The fingers pressed into Percy’s stomach dug into his skin, Oliver’s other hand wrapping tightly around Percy’s cock with a stuttering motion.
Percy was fucked to limpness as Oliver continued to ram into his prostate, breathing heavily over his shoulder, both ignoring whatever Flint was saying as he goaded them.
Oliver came moments later, and Percy felt his stomach heat as the come spilled into him, filling that strange place beneath Oliver’s fingertips. Percy, however, was still hard in Oliver’s fist.
Flint’s teeth ghosted Percy’s ear. “Stay in him, Wood. I want it to burn.”
Before Percy’s muddled mind could catch up to what he was saying, he felt the head of Flint’s cock press against his rim, against the side of Oliver’s own—and he felt a wave of fear rush through his blood. “No—no, don’t, Flint, you can’t, I’ll—”
But it was useless, and Oliver made no sound of protest except to groan as Flint pressed in alongside him and Percy—Percy felt the breath leave him along with a strangled cry that left tears in his eyes. I can’t, he thought, wanting the words to pass his lips but unable to speak as Flint pressed further in, filling him up alongside Oliver, forcing a stuttered breath from his chest.
“Don’t pass out, Weasley,” chuckled Flint against his ear. “Unless you to wake up in the infimary. Don’t worry,” he added, finally in as far as he could go with Oliver still beside him, “I’d still be fucking you when you came to.”
“Percy,” said Oliver behind him suddenly, voice a low growl, “why the fuck were you having sex with this asshole?”
Flint laughed. “Can’t you feel him clenching? He likes it, captain.”
“I—don’t—” Percy choked, just barely able to think with the two cocks inside him. Gods, they weren’t even moving yet.
And then Oliver began to move. “Don’t lie, Percy. I can feel you too.” He thrust as Flint laughed and Percy choked on a lungful of air. “I just need to know—is this what you like?”
Percy couldn’t possibly answer, even if that hadn’t been the same moment that Flint began to move as well. It was too much—the both of them, so deep, so full—his prostate was getting brushed with every movement but he could hardly feel the pleasure over the pressure in his stomach.
“Do you want it like this?” asked Oliver again, his hand still tight around Percy’s dick. It was jerking him slowly, precome bleeding between his fingers, setting an agonising pace. “Rough. Cruel. Dirty.”
Tears were in Percy’s eyes and he blinked at them but still could not speak.
Oliver grunted as both he and Flint happened to sink into Percy at the same time, forcing an inhuman noise from his throat. “Fuck, I just—” Oliver swallowed, and then he laughed. “Percy,” he murmured against his skin, slick with sweat, “did you think of me, when he was fucking you?”
Percy groaned and both of the men swore as they felt him clench around them.
“Fucker,” growled Flint.
“Percy,” gasped Oliver, the speed of his hand around Percy’s cock increasing, “you did, didn’t you? I never noticed the way you were looking at me, I thought—” he laughed, “I thought you were my friend.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Percy’s neck. “But you were always waiting for this. Waiting for me—for anyone to fuck you dry.”
Percy whimpered as Flint’s teeth nipped at the tip of his ear. “You’re delusional, Wood,” he whispered, “if you think I’m ever letting you fuck Weasley again after this.”
Oliver laughed, a strangled noise. “Flint, I’m fucking him in my bed tonight.”
“Not if I keep him tied to mine,” growled Flint.
Oliver’s laughter shuddered against Percy’s back. His thoughts spun away from him as they both thrust again, in tandem, a zing of energy jolting through him as his prostate was crushed. “Try it Flint, I swear—”
Another hand wrapped around Percy’s cock—Flint’s, he thought—and stole the breath from him again as it squeezed tight. Percy cried out and Oliver made a noise of irritation. “If you beg, I’ll let you join us.”
“Flint—”
“That’s what he’ll be screaming when I’m wrist-deep—”
Percy suddenly felt both of them still, gripping tight, as they came together, and almost as an afterthought Flint decided to relax his hold on Percy, bringing his palm up to knead Percy’s head in the way that had made him come so many times—just like it did then, forcing him into a shuddering, tearful orgasm that painted Flint’s chest with spurts of come and made Percy go utterly limp in his grip.
They were still for a moment, all three breathing heavily, before Flint pulled out in one motion, dragging Oliver with him. “Fuck you, Flint,” he groaned, his hand falling away from Percy’s dick as he leaned back.
“Not my style,” Flint answered with a smirk in his tone. Percy wasn’t looking at his face, eyes listlessly on the skin of his chest as he rested against him. He was completely, utterly empty. He had never felt like this—gaping wide, missing that feeling already, even as he remembered the painful ache of it. He would never go back to being normal after this. His ass—it couldn’t possibly go back to being normal. Gods, how was he ever going to shit again?
Mad laughter bubbled up from his lungs, turned into coughing as it hit his dry throat.
“He’s gone insane,” said Flint, sounding resigned. “I’ve changed my mind, you can have him.”
“Shut the fuck up, Flint,” said Oliver, wrapping his arms around Percy, more gently than Flint. “He needs to go to the Hospital Wing.”
Flint laughed loudly. “Are you going to take him? What will you say to Pomfrey? Sorry, ma’am, fucked him too hard and now he’s crazy.”
Oliver growled. “He’s hurt, Flint, and its your fucking fault.”
Flint leant back over Percy and licked the shell of his ear, making Percy shiver. “He’s fine, stop whining. Give it a few days and he’ll be tight again.” He slapped Percy’s ass and Percy jerked, whimpering as he felt come leaking from his ass.
“You can clean him up though,” said Flint, at last letting Percy down from his arms—but his legs were useless, and so Oliver rushed to support him. “I don’t mind that part—making him shiver, but,” his eyes swept over the pair, “I have a feeling you’re going to get mushy about it. If you go in the back of the Three Broomsticks, you can use their bathroom. Make sure to lock the door.” He smirked as he pulled out his wand and flicked it, only to clean himself before he did up his trousers. Percy wouldn’t have been surprised, if he was capable of thought.
“Enjoy him, captain. But, Percy—if you fuck him when I’m not watching, I’ll never touch you again.”
That registered, and Percy felt an unwilling jolt of apprehension at the thought.
“That won’t be an issue,” called Oliver after him, though Percy wasn’t so sure.
Flint smiled like he knew before walking off, waving over his shoulder as he went.
“Asshole,” Oliver muttered, pulling Percy closer before glancing down at where he was limp against Oliver’s side. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then.”