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Gilderoy is not proud of it. In fact, he's rather ashamed… Which is exactly why he only does so in the privacy of his own home. Well. The home he shares with Peter. In the privacy of his and Peter's home when Peter is gone.
The hoodie smells perfect. It's Peter and warmth and home and everything Gilderoy has ever loved or wanted. He tucks his chin into the collar and inhales deeply, his entire body instantly relaxing. He doesn't often get to indulge in this little horrifying secret. Peter tries to spend every second he's not required elsewhere with Gilderoy. To be fair, Gilderoy is the exact same way. His friends often complain about how codependent they are. Gilderoy doesn't care. In fact, he loves it. He loves when his partner obsessed with him.
Gilderoy is also a bit obsessed, not that he'd ever admit it. Oh no. Gilderoy is simply a man in love… a very passionate, lively, intense man.
Regardless, Gilderoy is not obsessed with Peter's hoodie collection. They're an abomination. An eyesore. The worst thing mankind has ever invented. They're hideous! Peter wears them around the house, wears them out to the pub, wears them on casual dates, wears them on walks around town, wears them in front of all their friends! He keeps one in the backseat of his car and one tied around his waist when the afternoon warms up, He keeps one at James and Regulus' flat, and one at Sirius and Remus', and one at work. He has so many hoodies it ought to be illegal.
In fact, Gilderoy complains about them often. He's always saying how Peter should be on a list, that until he's down to five hoodies he can't buy more, he has to be the only person keeping hoodie manufacturers in business, etc. etc.
All of that just to sneak them on when he's not around. He knows it's ridiculous. If anything, the guilt of stealing them when Peter isn't around makes Gilderoy tease him even more. He's compensating. He has to, lest his boyfriend catch on.
Today is another perfect day to slip into Peter's oversized hoodie and sip tea on the sofa. He has one of his favourite trashy tv shows on, a hot cup of mint majesty, and an orange abomination to tuck his knees into. Truly an unbeatable experience.
He's twenty-four minutes into Love Island when he hears the door open. Panic courses through his body and he spills a little of his second cup in his haste to stand. "Fuck," he curses under his breath and looks at the small puddle on the coffee table. Gilderoy feels seconds from tears. He can picture it now, the ridicule he will face when Peter finds him in this ugly hoodie, Love Island on the telly, tea on the table. His eyes feel hot and his nose feels sharp and—
"Is that my hoodie?" Peter asks as he deposits his keys in the little bowl on their side table. Miserably, Gilderoy turns to face him and nods. Peter's brows draw together and he purses his lips. Any moment now, Gilderoy thinks. "You look so cute," declares Peter with a grin. There's not a smug smile in sight. No scowl, no sneer, no tease. He just grins, unbidden and smitten, at the sight.
"Pardon?" Gilderoy murmurs.
Peter crosses the room to tug on the hem. It falls just barely over his thighs. Peter's eyes follow the movement before he tugs it a bit further to say, breathless, "No pants?"
Gilderoy's cheeks flush an angry red and he reaches to yank the hoodie back down over his parts. "Stop it," he scolds weakly.
Peter smirks and pulls them together. He wraps an arm around Gilderoy's waist and buries his face in his neck. After inhaling deeply, he says, "You smell like me."
"I'm wearing your hoodie," Gilderoy replies and he's trying very hard to maintain an unaffected air.
The other man kisses just under his ear. "You look bloody gorgeous, Gild, it's unreal."
Gilderoy feels hot all over again, just for a better reason now. "Yeah?" he fishes.
Peter sneaks a hand up his top again and pinches his hip. "You know you do."
Which isn't true at all. Gilderoy's rather certain this colour is horrid for his complexion. "Why are you home early?" asks Gilderoy in an attempt to keep from melting.
Peter's fingers sneak back to find his crack before trailing down to his hole. "They didn't need me. Told me to come home."
He can't catch his breath before Peter's brushing over his dry rim. "Peter," he gasps and instinctively pushes forward. He grinds directly into Peter's erection, hard and pulsing against his trousers. "Peter!" he exclaims again and buries his face in the other man's shoulder.
"That's it," he encourages. "Cry for me, Gild."
"P-Please," Gilderoy begs and he's not quite sure what he's begging for.
"What, baby?" Peter presses with more power against his hole. It's not comfortable and yet Gilderoy's already gagging for it. "What do you need, gorgeous?"
"Please," whinges Gilderoy. "I… You, please."
Peter pulls away just slightly. "Bedroom?" he asks and Gilderoy whimpers. "I'll take that as a yes." With implied permission, Peter leads him down to their bed. He presses Gilderoy back against the mattress before grabbing the lube from their bedside drawer. "Can't believe you've bitched about my hoodies for so long. Have you been wearing them this whole time?"
At the question, Peter pushes his first finger in. He's slow and gentle, but that's nothing new. Gilderoy prefers them to be soft with each other. He likes to feel loved. He's been fucked rough and ugly plenty of times. Around a whine, he answers, "Y-Yes."
"Oh?" Peter smirks when Gilderoy looks up at him. "You're so ridiculous," he mutters fondly. His attention turns to where Gilderoy is practically sucking him in. "So sexy, too. You look unreal in my hoodie. I could eat you up like this."
"Peter!" he exclaims and throws an arm over his face to hide.
"What?" asks Peter, perfectly innocent. "I could. It's such a naughty thing you've been doing, walking around in nothing but my hoodie. Were you going to touch yourself? Is that why you weren't wearing pants?"
A second finger joins and Gilderoy feels so full already. He keens and bears down, desperate for Peter to just touch him where he wants. "No," he lies. He loves to touch himself when Peter's not home, especially surrounded in his scent like he is.
"Liar," Peter replies blandly. "You were. Were you going to finger yourself on the sofa?"
He shakes his head. "No, no."
"Hm," he hums thoughtfully. "I believe that one. You prefer when I play with your little hole, isn't that right?"
Gilderoy gasps as three fingers find his prostate. "Oh!" he exclaims and drops his hands to clench the sheets. "Peter," he begs.
His boyfriend smiles at him sweetly. "Okay, love." He thrusts a few more times before pulling out. He undoes his trousers just enough to get his cock out and he lubes it up so much Gilderoy considers the amount of effort it will take to clean it off. But then Peter's meeting his eyes and leaning up to press the head of his cock against Gilderoy's softened hole. "Take a deep breath for me."
Gilderoy does. He takes a long, slow breath and by the time he's exhaling Peter's only halfway in. "Fuck," he moans and squeezes his eyes shut.
"You can take it," Peter promises sweetly. "You always do."
Gilderoy nods even though there are tears in his eyes. "Keep going," he begs.
"I'll take care of you, sweetheart." Gilderoy knows he will. Peter always takes care of him.
♨︎♨︎♨︎♨︎
Later, when they're clean and eating dinner, Peter asks, "Have you really been wearing them this whole time?"
Gilderoy sighs and looks down at his plate. "Not… not the entire time. But… for a while, yes."
"How long?" Peter needles with a smug look.
"I don't know. Maybe… I think I started a month after we moved in together."
Peter grins, wide and confident. "I knew you'd like them."
"What?" Gilderoy squints at him.
"Yeah." The other man shrugs but his eyes are twinkling. "I knew you'd crack eventually. Didn't think it would take only a month, but I knew you'd see the error of your ways."
"You're mad," Gilderoy realises breathlessly.
Peter laughs. "Mad about you, yeah."
"Oh for Christ's sake." But Gilderoy can't stop himself from laughing too. He'll never admit it, but he's absolutely gone for Peter. So gone, in fact, that he's got a ring hidden in the bottom of his pants drawer. "You're off your trolley," Gilderoy declares with a huge grin all his own.
Peter reaches across the table and pulls them together for a quick kiss. "Love you," he says it so easily.
Gilderoy sighs and hooks their ankles together under the table. "Love you, too."