not my characters.
this goes backwards.
Pucey's been asking him what's on his mind lately, and Marcus just takes bigger bites of his breakfast and keeps his eyes level two tables across.
Two weeks earlier, Oliver stands in front of a mirror looking for something and he's there behind him in a second, rough hands weighing down his naked shoulders like boulders, brute shadow hanging in a dull overcast.
Days before a big match (there never really was a small match to either boy) Oliver stuck out his hand in the hallway and wished him good luck. Marcus spit on it. He never apologized, even when Oliver tried to be mad.
"I don't even like you." Oliver tells him, broken grinning voice under the bleachers and both their knees have grass stains. Marcus tells him he doesn't expect him to. Oliver rolls on top of him and Marcus rolls on top of him and Oliver grins in sport and Marcus furrows his brow in miscommunication.
His bed's empty without him and he can never find the mood to sleep. So he doesn't (and finds means to wake him up instead).
There's a patch of forgotten freckles tracing the outline of Oliver's spine, a little towards the dip of his shoulder blades and Marcus watches them, sometimes grating his fingernails down Oliver's skin to see if one will fall off. One never has, and it makes Oliver adjust in half-sleep, too worn-out to be angry.
The first time he sees Oliver laugh is when he still devotes his time to hating him. The first time he makes him laugh is on accident, and even though the breathlessness and the way Oliver can't stop earns the lion boy an elbow in the ribs, the memory sneaks up on him one way or another and something about it he guess- well, he sort of likes it.
Oliver shivers just watching the way Marcus' back arches in the dull lamp light and doesn't hear Marcus ask him if he's going back tonight.
"It's just sex." Oliver clarifies before and Marcus squints and shrugs, knowing but maybe not understanding. He never thinks straight when he's sideways. Careful fingers play just behind his ear. He's getting distracted, but he wonders why Oliver would say something like that without the subject having been brought about.
Marcus lies with his head down during class and never dreams. Percy listens to Oliver sneak out at erratic hours of the night and keeps his lips shut tight.
They occupy bathrooms and empty rooms and underneaths and insides and Marcus only smiles when they're almost caught.
The very first night- before the drowsy-eyed days and before the stormy weather and before the inside of Oliver's thighs got those nasty bruises and before Marcus waited for him and before he stayed up all night just to feel him and way before Marcus found out how fucking warm Oliver Wood's mouth could be, before Marcus said that thing to him and Oliver actually tells him to Fuck Himself, before it all started- Marcus Flint watched Oliver Wood punch Terence Higgs in the mouth for calling that Weasley with the glasses some name he hadn't overheard- and Marcus knew he wanted it.
Oliver's told him four times already that it had to stop. Marcus never asks what it is.
review if it's worth it.