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gilascaveTitle: You and Your Body for Teenage Boys 1/1
Author: James
Pairing: Percy/other
Rating: R
Word Count: ~750
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Warnings: mentions of teenagers and masturbation, oh noes!
Summary: Percy is a teenage boy. Which means he has one thing on his mind 24/7.
Notes: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pornish_pixies' the Internet is for Porn challenge! I've got that song stuck in my head now, thank you. Many thanks to elfbystarlight for the beta.
Percy sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his thighs and hands dangling down between. Ten minutes and he ought to just get up, fight for his turn in line and settle for brushing his teeth while one of his brothers shoved their way in to take a piss.
There was a notion of privacy that Percy had heard of, read about in books that talked about fantastical things that he would probably never see. Bill and Charlie's letters home hint at it -- the idea of a room to one's self where the door never slammed open when you were reading, the idea that if you left something in the freezer for later it would still be there. The ability to take a bath without someone barging in to use the loo.
There was more that Percy suspected, though the letters -- read by Mum over family dinners -- never spoke of them. The privacy to lie in bed without noise barging through the walls; the privacy to close one's eyes and think about someone unattainable, someone gorgeous and striking and willing -- possibly eager -- to do the sorts of things one would never do when one's Mum was fifty yards away and could hear everything you ever breathed.
Percy thought about privacy a lot. Almost fifteen and he'd endured those lectures, his Dad beetroot-faced and stammering through everything that Percy had long since heard from his older brothers, and in better detail. He'd read up in the library as well, ducking down behind stacks of books with Spells for Travellers propped up in front. Pictures and diagrams that made him wonder if the school had any idea they even owned the book, much less how often students stole it off the shelf.
He'd been surprised, his first time daring to open it, that the pictures and diagrams and explanations talked about boys with other boys, as well as everything else.
He'd spent an afternoon reading about girls with girls, just knowing that someone was about to tap his shoulder and march him to Dumbledore's office in front of everyone, proclaiming his sins for all to hear. But he'd survived the experience and thought it over long enough to determine that, pleasant as it was to kiss a girl, thinking about other things with boys....
He'd never tried it, never dared, but when he curled up under his blankets in bed and bit his lip to keep quiet, that was what he thought about.
He thought about it rather more often than he ever got a chance to do anything; lack of privacy at home and at school conspiring to make him stay a virgin. Not that he expected to ever dare ask someone for more than a kiss, and certainly not ever another boy. But it would have been nice to have the chance. As he sat on the edge of his bed, listening for footsteps in the hallway and feeling the rumbling of the floorboards as someone ran elephants -- Fred and George, probably -- through the rooms below, he thought about it.
What it might be like to have a home of his own. A room with a door that stayed shut, and no one listening in, and the total, abject freedom to lie back in bed and kick off his pajamas and... do that.
And he could think about anyone he liked. He could think about the boys in the Quidditch team, or the lad he'd seen at the bookseller's, or he could think about the men in the magazines he'd stolen off of some of the girls in his potions class. He could close his eyes and imagine things, and he could touch himself, and he could go to breakfast afterwards without a single drop of shame on his face because no one would be there to see him.
Percy's hand twitched and he knew he needed to do something before he headed down to breakfast with an erection that even his Dad would be hard-pressed not to notice. Percy thought about slipping his hand just a few more inches -- feel the touch of his fingers, and how smooth the skin would be and how would it feel to have another boy's lips, right there....
Percy closed his eyes and whispered a spell that Oliver had taught him. Sending the bloodflow back where it belonged until his erection wilted down to what was decent and proper.
Then he stood, and wrapped his dressing gown tightly around him, and he headed out to fight his way in to use the loo.
Author: James
Pairing: Percy/other
Rating: R
Word Count: ~750
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Warnings: mentions of teenagers and masturbation, oh noes!
Summary: Percy is a teenage boy. Which means he has one thing on his mind 24/7.
Notes: for
pornish_pixies' the Internet is for Porn challenge! I've got that song stuck in my head now, thank you. Many thanks to elfbystarlight for the beta.Percy sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his thighs and hands dangling down between. Ten minutes and he ought to just get up, fight for his turn in line and settle for brushing his teeth while one of his brothers shoved their way in to take a piss.
There was a notion of privacy that Percy had heard of, read about in books that talked about fantastical things that he would probably never see. Bill and Charlie's letters home hint at it -- the idea of a room to one's self where the door never slammed open when you were reading, the idea that if you left something in the freezer for later it would still be there. The ability to take a bath without someone barging in to use the loo.
There was more that Percy suspected, though the letters -- read by Mum over family dinners -- never spoke of them. The privacy to lie in bed without noise barging through the walls; the privacy to close one's eyes and think about someone unattainable, someone gorgeous and striking and willing -- possibly eager -- to do the sorts of things one would never do when one's Mum was fifty yards away and could hear everything you ever breathed.
Percy thought about privacy a lot. Almost fifteen and he'd endured those lectures, his Dad beetroot-faced and stammering through everything that Percy had long since heard from his older brothers, and in better detail. He'd read up in the library as well, ducking down behind stacks of books with Spells for Travellers propped up in front. Pictures and diagrams that made him wonder if the school had any idea they even owned the book, much less how often students stole it off the shelf.
He'd been surprised, his first time daring to open it, that the pictures and diagrams and explanations talked about boys with other boys, as well as everything else.
He'd spent an afternoon reading about girls with girls, just knowing that someone was about to tap his shoulder and march him to Dumbledore's office in front of everyone, proclaiming his sins for all to hear. But he'd survived the experience and thought it over long enough to determine that, pleasant as it was to kiss a girl, thinking about other things with boys....
He'd never tried it, never dared, but when he curled up under his blankets in bed and bit his lip to keep quiet, that was what he thought about.
He thought about it rather more often than he ever got a chance to do anything; lack of privacy at home and at school conspiring to make him stay a virgin. Not that he expected to ever dare ask someone for more than a kiss, and certainly not ever another boy. But it would have been nice to have the chance. As he sat on the edge of his bed, listening for footsteps in the hallway and feeling the rumbling of the floorboards as someone ran elephants -- Fred and George, probably -- through the rooms below, he thought about it.
What it might be like to have a home of his own. A room with a door that stayed shut, and no one listening in, and the total, abject freedom to lie back in bed and kick off his pajamas and... do that.
And he could think about anyone he liked. He could think about the boys in the Quidditch team, or the lad he'd seen at the bookseller's, or he could think about the men in the magazines he'd stolen off of some of the girls in his potions class. He could close his eyes and imagine things, and he could touch himself, and he could go to breakfast afterwards without a single drop of shame on his face because no one would be there to see him.
Percy's hand twitched and he knew he needed to do something before he headed down to breakfast with an erection that even his Dad would be hard-pressed not to notice. Percy thought about slipping his hand just a few more inches -- feel the touch of his fingers, and how smooth the skin would be and how would it feel to have another boy's lips, right there....
Percy closed his eyes and whispered a spell that Oliver had taught him. Sending the bloodflow back where it belonged until his erection wilted down to what was decent and proper.
Then he stood, and wrapped his dressing gown tightly around him, and he headed out to fight his way in to use the loo.