Of Burning Beds And Liquid Fire
My bed is burnin' all through the night.
You're the only one that can make me feel right.
"I Love You Like a Ball and Chain" - Eurythmics
Charlie took note of Oliver Wood for the first time at a Sorting Feast. He paid careful attention to the younger boy, wondering what kind of person he was, what kind of friend he might be for Charlie's slightly priggish brother, Percy. Over that first year Charlie was able to observe that Oliver was of a good sort. Oliver seemed to get on with Percy as well, and that made Charlie happy.
The second time that Charlie noticed Oliver was when the boy made the Gryffindor House team. Oliver lived and breathed Quidditch and his enthusiasm was thoroughly infectious. If it happened to only infect Charlie, well, he tried not to think about that. Instead Charlie basked in Oliver's happy smiles, attention to task, surprising sarcasm, and his joyous laughter.
When Charlie left Hogwarts he knew that he could count on the twins to keep Oliver company. He tried not to think why he thought of in it that particular way, and not the reverse.
It had been Kingsley's idea, but Bill was the one to bring it to him.
"Do you really think this will work? The Death Eaters may be evil, misguided thugs, but they're not stupid."
"Of course we think it's going to work, Charlie. Why else would we ask you to find a guinea pig for us?"
Charlie flinched at Bill's choice of words. "You want me to find someone to fly low altitude maneuvers over enemy targets for reconnaissance purposes -"
"Fully protected, of course," Bill interrupted his younger brother and clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I've been working on a defense system for the rider. It's based off Harry's invisibility cloak, but it's much more sophisticated."
"Really, now. That's sounds intriguing."
"Doesn't it though? The rider will be totally undetectable to any sort of alert system. Perfectly safe, Charlie. Now we just need you to find someone willing to do it. Have any ideas?"
Charlie nodded stiffly. "Just one."
It was raining heavily when Charlie Apparated in Puddlemere. He had to come straight from the dragon camp in Wales where he was overseeing four excitable keepers and two even more excitable Welsh Greens. It would only get worse when the other dragons started to arrive in the following weeks.
He'd memorized Oliver's address before leaving for the camp that morning and he anxiously made his way through the streets looking for the cottage. It would've been easier to find without the rain, Charlie told himself, but with it the search took more than fifteen minutes. By the time he knocked on Oliver's door, Charlie was soaked the bone, his longish hair dirty and tangled. He knew that he must have looked a fright; the suspicion was confirmed by Oliver's expression when he opened the door.
Charlie raised his hand in a sheepish sort of wave. "Hi," he smiled.
Oliver looked at him queerly for a moment but then grinned broadly. "Bugger all, Charlie, you're starting to prune up." Oliver grabbed Charlie's arm and tugged him inside the cottage. "Get in here before you catch your death. I've seen your mum, and I don't exactly want to have her coming round wondering what happened to her baby boy."
There was something to be said for Oliver's reasoning. Charlie couldn't help laughing. "It's good to see you, Oliver."
"And you as well, Captain." He helped Charlie take off his long leather jacket and directed him towards the fire at the far end of the room. Once he and Charlie were settled he asked bluntly, "Now to what do I owe the pleasure, Weasley?"
Slightly taken aback, Charlie took a moment to compose his pitch. "We have an job for you, if you want it, that is."
Oliver nodded slowly, and looked deeply into the fire. "What's the job?"
Charlie noted that he didn't even ask who the 'we' was. "Ever fancy becoming a spy?"
A wicked smile broke out on Oliver's face. Charlie knew then that if he'd ever been able to ignore Oliver in the past, there was no way he was going to able to ignore him from then on. The thought made Charlie smile too, but in a slightly less wicked manner.
His visits to Oliver's cottage became quite regular after that September night. First he delivered what Bill called the "midnight cloak". It was black and bulky, large enough to cover both Oliver and his broom as he flew over his targets. Oliver declared it brilliant and memorably, "positively badass".
Charlie was also the one to visit Oliver and deliver his assignments in person. They'd indulge in Oliver's overly strong coffee before Charlie would relay the details of the next mission. After the third time Charlie figured out that the coffee was Oliver's secret to getting up so early in the morning for Quidditch practices. He made a note to tell Fred and George the next time he saw them. He'd heard the stories of Wood's unnatural ability to be lucid before the crack of dawn. The twins would be gratified to know that Wood was just as human as the rest of them.
Charlie reveled in these late night conferences. He hated that he was the one sending Oliver into danger, but the fact was that they were all in danger. At least Oliver had gone into with it eyes open, unlike some of the others.
Little by little Charlie started popping round to Oliver's even when there wasn't a specific reason for him to be there. Oliver never seemed to mind, always opened the door for him with a bright smile and a playfully sarcastic observation. As his days at the dragon camp grew longer and more tedious, Charlie came to rely on Oliver's friendship. If there was anything ulterior about his motives, Charlie took comfort in never acting upon his more base impulses - at least until one night in early December.
In the background Charlie could hear Oliver fiddling around in the kitchen. He didn't pay the racket any mind - Oliver never seemed to be that coordinated in that particular area, up to and including his coffee making skills - and continued to stoke the fire. It was bitterly cold outside and despite his heavy sweater (one of his mum's creations, it was hideous but terribly warm) Charlie was chilled to the bone.
By the time Charlie had finished with the fire Oliver was just returning from the kitchen.
Charlie was sitting on the couch and without looking back he called out, "I was starting to worry that the pans might have taken revenge on you for last week's dinner. What were you doing in there?"
"Getting this," Oliver said. He came around the couch and sat down next to Charlie. He shifted a bit closer to his friend and put down two squat glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey on Oliver's old school trunk before them.
"You're brilliant," Charlie smiled and reached for the bottle. He poured a small amount in each glass and then gave one to Wood. "Fucking mad, but brilliant, mate. Cheers!" Olive raised his glass to Charlie's then downed the alcohol in one take.
A half hour later found the bottle of firewhiskey diminished considerably. The two men had abandoned all pretense of personal space. Oliver was slumped against Charlie's shoulder with Charlie's left arm wrapping around the slightly smaller man. They had given up on the glasses sometime before as well, and now they were just passing the bottle between them.
With Oliver's strong, warm body tucked in against his side and his belly warm from both the firewhiskey and from Oliver's contact, Charlie was as happy as he had been in years.
"You wanna know the best thing about this stuff," Oliver asked, his words slurred. "It makes everything hurt less."
"Good idea in theory, but dangerous too."
"Mmmm, maybe." Oliver took a swig from the bottle. "But it's practical too." He put the bottle down on the table and pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. "See that scar? Burns like fire most of the time, but with this," he pointed to the whiskey. "It's quiet. Every once in a while that's nice to have."
Charlie considered that before responding. "And in times like these, maybe you're right."
Oliver leaned back to look Charlie in the face. Charlie almost shivered at the loss.
"At least a little right, anyhow." He blinked slowly and leaned closer to Charlie again, but didn't touch him. "So what scars does it quiet for you, Weasley?"
He had accumulated many scars over the years, some from his brothers (Ron had a tendency to bite when he was a toddler), some he had earned while at school, and finally some gained during his time as a dragon keeper. As soon as Oliver asked, he knew exactly which one to show.
Charlie awkwardly lifted his sweater over his head and then did the same with his t-shirt before dropping them beside the couch.
Oliver's eyes were wide. "What is that?"
Charlie smiled down to the red and gold dragon tattoo that snaked around his right side, just below his ribs. "That is Beatrice."
Reaching out to touch her, Oliver stopped before his fingers actually made contact. "Can I?" he asked, his voice soft and low.
"Absolutely."
Charlie almost jumped when Oliver's fingers made contact on his skin. His touch was soft, careful and intoxicating. Charlie didn't want to breathe in fear that this moment would disappear into the ether.
"She's wonderful." The tattoo, a stylized Chinese Fireball, was enchanted to twist up his side and to breathe fire. Oliver tickled her tail and Beatrice responded by letting loose her flames. "It's like liquid fire!"
"Wicked isn't she?"
Oliver nodded, still stroking Charlie's skin.
"But this isn't a scar, Charlie."
"Look," he tugged down the waistband of his jeans to his hipbone. Charlie had revealed an ugly, pinkish scar the size of Oliver's palm. The skin was shiny and smooth, standing out against the rest of Charlie's fair skin. Charlie heard Oliver gasp in recognition.
"See that? Beatrice's real life counterpart gave me that two years ago. Beatrice protects me now."
Smiling, Oliver joked, "How, by screeching when you get too close to another mad dragon?"
"Something like that."
"Well, whatever she does, she's dead sexy."
Charlie felt the air in the room change, become charged. He looked at Oliver and saw that he had noticed it as well. After years of ignoring and putting aside his instincts, it was the easiest thing for Charlie to hold Oliver's head with one hand, to lean forward and kiss him. He'd kissed plenty of people before, and somewhere in his brain Charlie felt foolish for feeling like he did, but for Charlie, kissing Oliver was like completing some long journey.
He had finally found home.
Charlie smiled against Oliver's mouth. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just you."
Now it was Oliver's turn to smile and laugh. "I sure as hell hope so. I don't want you giving this treatment out to just anyone."
Charlie pulled Oliver to him but Oliver went one further, swinging a leg over Charlie's lap so he was straddling the other man.
Charlie kissed him again, keeping one large hand at the back of Oliver's skull and the other safely on the overhot skin of Oliver's back. He teased at Oliver's lips with his tongue seeking entrance into that hot, wet mouth. It was access that Oliver was only to happy to give. Charlie couldn't help a low moan when Oliver's tongue finally touched his. He curled his tongue around Oliver's and was rewarded when Oliver scooted closer to his body, bringing them into even closer contact.
Charlie pulled back and took a deep breath. "Let's get this," he tugged at Oliver's shirt, "off of you, shall we?"
The shirt was gone almost instantaneously as Wood wasted no time in ripping it off and throwing it across the room with a flourish.
"Oh, dramatic," Charlie teased, settling his hands on Oliver's hips to hold him steady.
Oliver grinned and leaned forward to start kissing up the side of Charlie's neck. "Have to..." Kiss. "Start..." Bite. "Showing off my...." Lick. "Skills."
Charlie gasped at the sensations Oliver was eliciting. "Can't argue with that," he ground out. Seeking out Oliver's mouth once more, Charlie ran his hands up and down Oliver's back; Oliver began to rock into Charlie in response. "Oliver..." Charlie thrust up his own hips. They were at a slightly awkward angle, but oh god, if he could just hit it just right their erections would come into line and...yes.
Oliver hissed when Charlie's hands reached for the buttons on his trousers, coming into contact with the sensitive skin of his stomach. "God Charlie, yes." Charlie shortly had the trousers undone. Oliver assisted by quickly removing himself from Charlie's lap, shucking out of the trousers and throwing them aside. He stood for a second before Charlie, naked and glowing in the firelight, before Charlie motioned him back to where he'd been sitting before.
"I want to touch you," Charlie whispered into Oliver's ear. He didn't give much warning as right after saying it, Charlie did it, grasping Oliver's cock in hand. Giving Oliver a minute to adjust, or at least merely breathe, Charlie waited and then stroked firmly up and then back down, twist, over the weeping head; he repeated the pattern over and over again driving Oliver ever closer to release.
Charlie found himself thoroughly addicted to the hitched sounds of Oliver breathing, to the little moans that issued forth from his chest, to the way Oliver bit down on his earlobe, sucked it into his mouth, made him squirm like he never had before. "Fucking fantastic, Oliver."
Oliver lifted his head from the crook of Charlie's neck and claimed his mouth. Almost immediately Charlie took charge of the kiss and fucked Oliver's mouth with his tongue. That was all that Oliver need. Charlie felt Oliver twitch and jump once or twice and then Oliver came hot all over his hand.
Heedless of the mess, only paying mind to his own exhaustion, Oliver collapsed against Charlie. Personally, Charlie wouldn't want it any other way. Soon Oliver rose and leaned over the couch, coming back up with Charlie's discarded t-shirt. He smiled quickly and then proceeded to clean up both Charlie and himself before throwing the shirt aside once more.
Forlornly, Charlie looked in the direction his shirt had flown. "Oi, that was my shirt." He grinned and smacked Oliver lightly on his ass.
"Now you can take me home with you," Oliver said cheekily.
"Now there's an idea." Charlie kissed Oliver quickly. He shifted uncomfortably in his too tight jeans, the movement attracting Oliver's notice.
"I've got a better one." And with that Oliver started a long, slow trek down Charlie's body, tongue and fingers working in a common cause. He flicked his tongue over Charlie's nipples before biting down lightly, then laving over the sensitive flesh before moving down. His hands moved continually over Charlie's abdomen, tickling here and there, lingering on the area Beatrice inhabited. Very soon Charlie was just as delirious with sensation as Oliver had been just a short time before. "Did you know, dragons were historically supposed to guard virgins or hoards of treasure," Oliver said as he settled on his knees between Charlie's spread legs.
Raising his head from where he'd thrown it back, Charlie regarded Oliver as seriously as he could given the circumstances. "That's nice to know."
"Isn't it?"
Charlie wanted to groan, though not in ecstasy. How could Oliver be that lucid and that smug when Charlie was about to burst? "What's your point, Oliver?" he asked rather testily.
"Well," he began, unzipping Charlie's jeans. "I was just wondering, since you've got Beatrice where you do, does that mean that she's guarding your virginity or," Oliver carefully freed Charlie's erection from it's denim confines. "Is she just guarding your horde of treasure?" Oliver smirked, "And what a horde it is."
Charlie moaned loudly as Oliver's mouth descended over the head of his dick. Leave it to Oliver to crack wise just before doing something like that, Charlie thought. Bless his little wicked heart. And Oliver hadn't been kidding about his skills either, it turned out that he gave head like pro. After his initial taste he diverted his attention to Charlie's thighs, kissing and nuzzling the sensitive skin, fairly torturing Charlie all the while before focusing back on Charlie's throbbing erection.
Tired of the teasing, Charlie kept a guiding hand on Oliver's head, keeping him where he needed him most. Oliver complied, swirling his tongue over the head, running it back down the shaft until his mouth met his hand, running his teeth lightly on the underside of Charlie's cock on the way back up. It wasn't long before Charlie was yelling, begging to come. It was what Oliver had been waiting for. In one swift motion he swallowed Charlie whole; Charlie's hand tangled in Oliver's hair as he came.
"Next time we do that, let's use the bed." Oliver and Charlie were curled tightly together on the couch, enjoying the dying flames of the fire.
"Your knees hurt?" Charlie asked sleepily.
"Little bit, yeah."
"Where'd you learn to do that, anyway?"
Oliver laughed softly and kissed Charlie's collarbone. "In case you hadn't noticed, I grew up while you were away, Weasley."
Charlie sweetly kissed the top of Oliver's head. "Trust me, I noticed." If it was possible, Oliver managed to snuggle closer. "Now about this bed, Oliver...I trust it's big enough for two strapping young lads such as ourselves?"
He laughed again, "Only one way to find out."