There was no love in this relationship. It was all flesh, screams, and feelings. It was the only reason Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team allowed this to happen. Oliver Wood mused on his little secret life when a knocking broke his musings.
"Come in..." He knew who it was. He shivered in delight when Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin team walked into the Gryffindor team locker room.
"You're already undressed. Good." Flint licked his lips and approached Oliver. Grabbing the back of his head roughly, Marcus kissed the Gryffindor, delving his tongue deep into the other's throat. Oliver tried to keep his moans in check, but a fair few made it to the ears of Marcus. "I know you like it when I'm rough with you, you little bitch."
It hurt when the Slytherin called him names, but he couldn't do anything about it. If he ever spoke up about it, Marcus might leave and their sessions might come to an end. Oliver couldn't let that happen. This was the only way he could be close to his enemy. Hate sex, that's what the Weasleys would call it. Sex between two people who hated each other, simply for the sake of sex. And that was the only reason that Oliver allowed this to happen, time and time again. Or at least that's what he kept trying to tell himself. He plastered a smirk on his face and spoke up. "Going to call me names all night or are you going to fuck me proper, Flint?"
Marcus smirked right back, pushed Oliver wood over on the bench, bent him over, and slammed himself in deep without any sort of preperation. "Fuuuck!"
Oliver hid his wince. It hurt every time this happened, even though he always gave himself prep before Marcus would show up. He needed to do it himself, because its not like Flint was going to make this any easier on Oliver. That was the agreement after all. They had never agreed on prep, just sex. And sex is all that ever happened. Though, on occasion, Oliver had broken the agreement and talked during it. On those few times, the Slytherin demanded payment in the form of Oliver's mouth, and Oliver, although grudgingly, was only too happy to pay up. In his mind, Marcus was tender with him. In his mind, his back was lovingly carressed during the act of love making, instead of brutally ravaged as it was during the act of simple fucking. He was never allowed to heal himself after the deed was done, either. Flint would have made him pay if he had. And it wouldn't be the kind of pay that Oliver would enjoy either.
"So damn tight! Every time!" came the voice of Marcus Flint. Oliver heard it as he groaned and started to stroke himself. Soon it was all over and Marcus came into his body in jets of white, hot semen. He pulled out, cleaned himself up, and left. As he walked out, he said the same words he said every time this happened. "Thanks for the fuck, Wood."
Oliver watched him go, holding back the tears. He wished, for all he was worth that for once this would end differently. Wished that Marcus would show some compassion when they did this. Wished that just once, Marcus would say something different as he left Oliver to clean up everything and hide the remains of their sex. But his wishing was in vain. Oliver knew well that there was no love in this relationship. It was all flesh, and screams, and feelings. Or at least that's what he wanted to believe. That's what he tried to force himself to believe every time this happened, but just as it had before, he knew he was lying to himself. There was no love in this relationship. It was all flesh, and screams, and feelings. At least that's how it was for Flint.