DISCLAIMER: I am not J.K. Rowling and so I must disclaim how I don't own or gain profit from these characters.
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Percy Weasley always took the last bunk of the third deck. It was an odd habit as it was simply not practical (and not safe for that matter). Why walked up two sets of stairs and down a long aisle of heaving beds? Just force of habit really.
Percy supposed that it had something to do with getting away from the 'conductor for this evening'. Stan was always there, no matter what the time, ready to take his bags up after him and offer coffee and brandy. It wasn't even the puppy-like attentions Stan gave him, as he'd grown used to them. It was more the burning shame of past rides, and the almost dread of what would transpire that time around.
Having stuck out his wand, irritably brushed his way passed Stan and up the grand staircases to his bed, Percy sunk down on it just as the young man appeared, setting down the cases and waiting expectantly.
Percy had long since learned the correct amount to give (after the first few times of having extra sickles handed back to him) and handed the sickles to the young conductor.
"Coffee?" Stan offered, even though he knew the answer.
Percy nodded mutely and watched as the other poured him black coffee, adding the dark liquid to it and handing it over.
Carefully, or as careful as you can get whilst your bed is being lurched around on the third floor of a triple-decker, Percy took a sip, sighing gratefully as the warmth spread down his throat.
"By tha way, whereabouts you 'eaded this time?"
Percy glanced up at Stan, raising an eyebrow.
"Leaky Cauldron" he replied, quickly averting his gaze and blushing.
Stan nodded and staggered over to the banister.
"Leaky Cauldron, Ern," he hollered, returning to Percy immediately and setting himself down opposite the boy.
Finishing his alcoholic coffee a little faster than he should, Percy fixed his blue sights on a tear in the bed sheets. Adamantly refusing to look up.
"Though' yeh'd stop coming y'know, 'specially after las' time."
This only served to worsen Percy's flush; last time had been...a little rough. It had ended badly, arguments-most of which were to do with Percy's older brother Charlie-had heated up between them, and had ended only when Percy's stop had arrived. Leaving the two in a huff.
"Sorry I was awfully short," Percy mumbled.
"I'm sorry too, shouldn'a said those fings."
Percy smiled sheepishly, being compared to his brother in that way had been rather harsh.
"So I'm forgiven?" Stan crawled up beside Percy and wrapped his arm around the other's shoulders.
Percy nodded and Stan tilted his head up with one hand, taking his glasses off with the other.
"Tha's good" he smirked, pressing his mouth against Percy's.
Gasping, Percy reached forward to grasp Stan's dirt smudged shirt, leaning hungrily into the kiss. He allowed the older boy to take control, tongue dominating his mouth. He whimpered as Stan moved his hands down to Percy's sides. Then, ever so torturously, the gripped his waistband, tugging for him to take his pants off.
Pulling away with a breathless sound, Percy hesitantly unbuckled his pants and kicked off his shoes. He felt himself become shy as Stan watched him like a hungry dog.
Percy had always supposed that Stan didn't dwell to much on the idea that was 'them', and went out to find his own fun between their encounters. But his eyes were so full of need and longing as they watched him that Percy begin to feel that perhaps that was not the case.
Shimmying out from the legs, Percy next worked out his boxers and shirt, placing them neatly at the end of the bed and leaving himself completely exposed.
As Stan moved forward a small, very unPercy-like whimper made him pause.
"Please, shut the curtains."
Tilting his head, Stan nodded and took hold of the fabric, moving it forward with a protesting squeal of the rings on the rail. Once safe behind the veil of off-white, Stan scooped Percy up in his arms and ravished him. Bringing his lips down to taste every inch of his soft, white skin. His hands stroking up Percy's sides, making the boy squirm.
Percy, who found it unfair that Stan's clothes were still on his person, pulled at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one.
Growling playfully as the last button slipped free of the hole, Stan shrugged off the shirt and pushed Percy down on the bed. Sprawled out, naked beneath him sent an unfamiliar vulnerability crashing down over Percy. He wasn't used to this...he was NEVER used to this, and no matter how many times this happened in future he was never going to be used to this.
"S-stan" he gasped once the other had began to undo himself.
"Yeah?" The older boy's voice was husky, lustful.
"...I'm sorry...could you please...be gentle?"
Laughing, Stan nodded. He was all to used to Percy's act, how he would always return to acting like a blushing girl when time for the next ride came around. He kicked off his pants, placing a lot less care in his clothing than Percy had, and spread the boy's legs.
Taking a shaky breath and praying for some ounce of self-control, Stan pulled Percy up against him and thrust.
Percy's shrill cry rang through the bus, although above the roar of the bus it was impossible that anybody on the lower levels would have heard anything. Stan planted soothing kisses along his jaw, whispering sweet, loving things in his ear as he retreated. Only to return with rising abandon.
The rhythm he set was fast and erratic, efficiently failing in his promise of slow and gentle. Although Percy didn't seem to mind, he eagerly pushed back against Stan, whimpers and pleas and demands slipping from his mouth.
"Faster!" He gasped, "Harder...please harder!"
Stan groaned, complying the best he could. The bed creaking beneath them along with the tight heat in which he was buried was rapidly getting to him, building as excitement in his groin.
"Percy..." he shuddered, pulling out and ramming back in, his length jerked and his semen washing Percy's insides.
Moaning uncontrollably as his own orgasm took hold, Percy arched and bucked against Stan. He clung to him as his pleasure subsided leaving him in the pleasant afterglow. Percy closed his eyes, feeling suddenly very lazy and content to just fall asleep with Stan on top of him.
Stan kissed Percy lightly and got up shakily, redressing himself as best he could.
"Gotta ge' back tah work..." he grumbled, pulling his boots back on, "I'll come ge' yah when i's your stop, righ'?"
Percy nodded and mumbled incoherently as Stan gave him another small kiss and left, leaving the boy blissfully hidden behind the curtain.
Smiling, he rolled onto his side and drifted off.
Percy Weasley always took the last bunk of the third deck. It wasn't some odd habit. It was so he and Stan would never be discovered.