[fic] massage therapy ; hp, oliver/charlie

[delacourtings]

massage therapy. harry potter. oliver/charlie. r. 1,274. ao3.

“our healer has this muggle massage trick that does wonders. i can show you if you want.”

for the for the pairing: oliver/charlie square on my @hprarepairbingo.tumblr.com bingo card.


Charlie groaned as the hot water from the showerhead rained down onto his aching shoulders. Every muscle in his body ached. Puddlemere had given them hell but luckily the Seeker on Charlie’s team had caused them to yank a victory from Puddlemere’s grasp along with the snitch.

Charlie groaned as he rotated his shoulders, wincing at the pain the movement caused. The team healer had given him a pain relief potion but it wouldn’t start working for at least half an hour.

There was a loud squeak, followed by the door to the locker room shutting. Someone must have forgotten something. Charlie was always the last one to leave the locker room.

“Macey?” Charlie called. “That you? You lose your wand again?”

But it wasn’t Macey. Or anyone from Charlie’s team. Oliver Wood, Puddlemere’s star player, was disrobing and heading toward the shower a few feet down from Charlie.

“Wood?” Charlie asked, rubbing water from his eyes.

Oliver jumped at the sound of Charlie’s voice. “Merlin! Sorry, I didn’t even notice you were here.” Oliver frowned. “Why are you here?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him, an amused smirk on his face. “This is the Falcons’ locker room.”

“Oh.” Oliver looked around. “It is. Huh.” Oliver shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Sorry. I get a bit in my head after games.”

Charlie grinned. “So I’ve heard.”

Oliver smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you mind?” He asked, nodding toward the shower. “Since I’m already here?”

Charlie shook his head. “Have at it.”

They stuck to typical locker room etiquette, completely ignoring each other until Charlie couldn’t help but let out a groan as he tried to use his right hand to massage his left shoulder.

“Sorry,” Charlie said to Oliver, wincing as he did so. “Your beater did a number on my shoulder.”

“I’d apologize but…” Oliver trailed off, smiling. Charlie laughed but his laugh quickly turned into a groan.

Oliver frowned. “That bad?”

Charlie nodded, grimacing. “Pain potion hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Oliver nodded. “Our healer has this Muggle massage trick that does wonders. I can show you if you want.”

“I’ll do anything at this point, mate.”

Oliver made a sympathetic grimace and walked over.

“Turn around,” he instructed Charlie.

“Uh...alright,” Charlie said. He’d never been shy.

“Tell me when I’m on the place that hurts the most,” Oliver instructed.

Charlie nodded. Oliver placed his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and started massaging. Charlie let out a gasp of pain as Oliver’s thumb pressed down on a spot right beneath his left shoulder.

“Ah. That’s it, then?”

Charlie just nodded, the pain shooting through him so sharp he couldn’t even speak.

“Alright, try not to move,” Oliver commanded. Charlie closed his eyes and braced himself.

Oliver placed his elbow on Charlie’s sore spot and pressed down.

A jolt of pain ran through Charlie’s body, so intense it made his knees shake. But Charlie forced himself to breathe through the pain.

“Sorry,” Oliver apologized.

“It’s alright,” Charlie said through gritted teeth.

“It’ll feel better in a minute.”

“It’s gotta get worse before it gets better, huh?” Charlie asked.

Oliver chuckled. “Something like that.”

Oliver took his elbow away and placed his hands back on Charlie’s shoulders, rubbing at the sore spot. He did it so softly and so gently, it almost felt nice. After not nearly long enough for Charlie’s liking, Oliver took his hands away.

“I've got to alternate between the elbow and the hands. Sorry.”

Charlie shook his head. “That’s alright. It’s starting to feel better already.”

“Good,” Oliver said and resumed massaging him.

Oliver spent the next few minutes alternating between his elbow and his hands, eventually getting Charlie to relax a little. After a while, Charlie found himself letting out a contented sigh.

“Okay?” Oliver asked.

Charlie made a pleased noise. “Feels nice.”

“You feel nice. Er, I mean—-“

Charlie opened his eyes and turned to look at Oliver.

“Do I?” He asked, grinning.

“Um,” Oliver said, blushing. His eyes flicked from Charlie’s eyes to his lips and back again, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

Charlie raked his eyes up and down Oliver’s naked body. All Quidditch players were toned but Oliver’s physique was above and beyond. His shoulders were broad and his chest muscular. His thighs were the size of tree trunks and his cock, which was currently thick with arousal, was long and pink. Just the sight of it was enough to make Charlie’s mouth water.

“I can help you out with that,” Charlie said, nodding his head towards Oliver’s cock. “If you like.”

“Wh-Wh-What?” Oliver stuttered. “Really?”

Charlie glanced back down to Oliver’s cock. “Believe me,” he said, looking into Oliver’s eyes. “It would be my pleasure .”

Charlie grinned, filthily, and sank to his knees.

“Fuck,” Oliver said. The sight of Charlie on his knees in front of him, looking like he there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to get his mouth on Oliver, went straight to Oliver’s cock.

Charlie looked up at him. “Maybe after.”

Oliver moaned, his mind suddenly inundated with images of Charlie pounding into him, of him bending Charlie over.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” Charlie said, placing one hand on each of Oliver’s upper thighs and spreading him apart.

“Fuck,” Oliver hissed. “If you don’t quit it, this will be over before it’s even gotten started.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Charlie said, grinning up at Oliver before, taking Oliver into his mouth. Before Oliver could even get a chance to enjoy the sensation, Charlie was pulling off.

“Oi, tease.”

“You like it,” Charlie smirked before wrapping his hand around the base of Oliver’s cock. He lulled Oliver into a false sense of security, running his hand up and down the shaft for long enough that Oliver’s eyes closed, before taking his hand away and swiftly replacing it with his tongue.

“Merlin’s fucking beard,” Oliver gasped.

“If you’re still able to speak coherently, I’m doing something wrong,” Charlie said before taking Oliver into his mouth as far as he was able, which wasn’t all the way, but almost, and Oliver couldn’t help but thrust into the heat of Charlie’s mouth.

“Sorry!” Oliver said, pulling back but Charlie stopped him, grabbing Oliver by the hips and pushing him into

“Fuck, Weasley. You’re...” he trailed off, unable to think or speak with Charlie like this, on his knees, for him.

Charlie moaned around Oliver’s cock and that was all it took, Oliver was spilling into Charlie’s mouth before he could even warn him.

Charlie swallowed and Oliver felt a painful jolt of arousal at the sight. As Oliver finished, Charlie pulled his mouth off of Oliver’s cock with an obscene pop.

Oliver sank to the floor of the shower stall, completely spent. “Give me a minute and I’ll return the favor.”

Charlie chucked. “There’s no need.”

Oliver’s eyes, which had fluttered shut without his permission, opened. “Really?”

Charlie laughed. “Yeah, you put on quite a show.”

“You’re quite the performer yourself, Weasley.”

“Why, thank you, Wood.”

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” Olive suggested, the part of his brain that would normally hesitate over asking something like that overtaken by his carefree post-orgasm brain.

“Maybe,” Charlie shrugged. “That depends.”

“On?”

Charlie smirked. “Whether or not you win the next match.”

“Oh yeah? What do I get if I win?”

“Me,” said Charlie.

“And if we lose?”

“Well, then I get you."

“Is this some sort of ploy to get me and try to lose the game?” asked Oliver.

“Why? Is it working?”

“Not even a bit, Weasley.”