Title: Precious Things
Author: Daisy
Fandom: Harry Potter
Setting: Quidditch Locker Rooms
Pairing: Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint
Genre: Romance/Humor
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 481
Type of Work: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Warnings:
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: After a brutal game against Ravenclaw, all Oliver Wood wants to do is rest and ice his wounds. Marcus Flint, however, has an entirely different idea on how to enjoy Gryffindor's win.
AN: This story was suggested by my lovely, Todd (Drkfrg/Cadaverousdingo), and I'm pretty sure this is our OTP for this fandom. x3 So, this is a gift to him. *hearts* Anyway, on with the story!
Precious Things ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The may afternoon proved warm and breezy, perfect for a game of Quidditch, and as the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors took the field, it was sure to be a good, brutal game. This claim was validated with a hard-won victory to Gryffindor, and as the Keeper and team Captain made his way off the field, limping from a stray bludger beaten by a sore loser, to the locker rooms to try and soothe his wounds. Nothing some cooling balm or ice couldn't fix, but it still was rather painful from where his most important injury began.
Of course, once everyone else had filtered out and the bruised young man was alone, he certain cologne filled his nostrils and he sighed as his slithery snake slipped up behind him. Clammy hands sliding over his bare shoulders, down to strong pecs, he shuddered slightly as they headed south.
"That was… A brilliant game, Wood." He whispered softly, pressed up against the other's ear, taking a nip with those notoriously bad teeth.
"I know you have a penchant for me all bloodied and beaten, Marcus, but now isn't really the time..." Oliver tried to interrupt with strong hands, but the other shook him off.
"You know I can't keep my hands to my-" Hearing a hiss of pain, he blinked slightly and turned to look at the other, peering over his shoulder and giving a similar response. A large, dark bruise lay over his right thigh, the side he typically tucked on, and Heaven knew that Marcus was suddenly filled with an incredible rage. Sliding over the other like a snake, he slipped into his lap, gently massaging the bruised area; something rare, a gentle touch, made Oliver flinch, at first.
"Who did this…?" The question burned with a fire that the Keeper had never heard before, and it made him almost feel bad for indulging the name.
"I be-believe it was Jason Samuels." He offered softly, scrunching his face a little bit as he felt those nimble fingers digging into his tender thigh, every so often brushing against his pained member.
"I'm going to kill him." The sentiment was there, but the swiftness of the statement made the taller gulp.
"Kill him? I don't think that's-"
"This is precious to me, and he damaged it. He is going to pay." The smile on Marcus' face made him feel a little uneasy, but he couldn't deny that those hands knew what they were doing.
Later that evening, it was a well-known rumor around the school that Jason Samuels had taken a pretty bloody beating, landing him in the hospital bay to have a few teeth removed and his face fixed up. Oliver took a small amount of pride from the notion that the other cared enough to do such a thing for him, knowing it could be none other than his bad-mouthed Slytherin.
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