Lucid


The situation wasn't unusual anymore. Percy Weasley often returned to his dorm with his hands rubbed raw and purpling bruises appearing in the most obvious of places. His room-mates would avoid meeting his eye and, the moment the lights went out, he'd hear them muttering amongst themselves. He knew exactly what they were saying.

Some nights, as he stripped off his robes to dress for bed, they'd note the bite-marks on his neck. Messy, misaligned grazes on his pale, freckled skin. On these nights, their whispers would be even less subtle than usual. Sometimes they wouldn't even wait for the lights to flicker out.

They all knew what was going on. There was only one student that could leave a mark that distinctive.



"Flint!" Percy gasped, his voice made alien by his frantic breathing. Bracing himself against the wall and feeling the familiar scrape of stone on skin and Marcus’ low chuckle tickling at his ear. "We can’t.." his voice trailed off as he was caught off guard by a particularly distracting thing Marcus was doing with his hips. "We can’t keep doing this."

"And why not?" muttered the low voice in his ear. Percy closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip a moment, trying to clear his head to speak.

"People are talking," he replied as firmly as he could.

"Pardon me for forgetting your constant struggle to be the paragon of virtue," he breathed into his ear, flicking his tongue slowly along the ridge of it. He smirked at the little whimpers Percy let out, the way he shook and tried to steady himself. "Honestly, who cares what people say? Who. Really. Gives. A. Fuck?" he spat, punctuating each syllable with a sharp thrust of his hips. The way Percy gasped and rolled his head back with each jab simply urged him on.

"I.. I do," stuttered Percy, unconvincingly. "This.. It’s wrong."

"Does it feel wrong?" growled Marcus, bringing his hand around Percy to grasp at his cock. Percy jolted and mumbled something indistinct. Slowly, Marcus began moving his hand along his shaft. "Does it, Weasley?" he asked again, kissing along his shoulder blade. His only response was a constant soft whimpering, interspersed with little groans. "Is this wrong of us?" Marcus imitated the concerned tone Percy had used perfectly. "Should we.. Should I.. Stop?" He suddenly released his grip, drawing out a desperate sound from the red-haired boy.

"Please.." Percy murmured, thrusting forward uselessly.

"I’m sorry, I missed that. Speak up."

"Please!" he almost shouted, pushing back on to the taller boy’s cock, eliciting a gasp from him.

"When you ask like that," Marcus growled, biting down on the soft flesh of his nape and clasping a hot hand around his erection again, "how can I refuse you?"



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