"Come here," Marcus mumbled, fingers poised around the ceramic of his coffee mug.
Oliver was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, watching his lover with soft eyes. When beckoned, he crossed the room and tumbled into Marcus's lap. The man gave a grunt of pain but wrapped his arms around the boy nonetheless. Oliver took up his own coffee mug from the table next to their high-backed arm chair. Marcus shifted under him.
"How can you wear that sweater? It's burning up in here." Marcus trailed kisses along the inner curve of Oliver's neck. He purred with satisfaction. "And jeans too?"
"Well I'm freezing. I just came from practice after all. When did yours finish up?"
"'Bout three hours ago. Captain was out of it today. Team's betting this is going to be his last season."
"Which means-" Oliver cocked his head so he could stare into Marcus's face. The chaser was grinning. "Which means that you should be captain this time next year."
"Jealous, Wood?"
"You wish," Oliver leaned in to capture his boyfriend's lips with his own. He was grinning when he drew back. He raised the mug to his lips and took a swift gulp. Marcus did the same, never taking his eyes off Oliver's face. "Like what you see?"
"And then some."
Oliver blushed as Marcus grabbed the front of his sweater and yanked him in for another kiss. The mug spilled down the front of the sweater. Oliver jumped, throwing his hands in the air as the steaming liquid soaked into his clothes. "Marcus!"
Marcus stood, setting his own mug on the table next to him and snatching Oliver's now empty one from the floor. It joined his on the table. Oliver was still glaring at the boy, hands clutching at his dripping sweater. The chaser stared at his lover, tempted to laugh at the blush spreading over his cheek. Instead, he stepped up next to Oliver, looping his arms around the boy's neck and pressing up against him.
"You're going to ruin my sweater!" Oliver protested, though he didn't make any moves to pull away.
"It's an ugly sweater anyway."
"My mum knit this for me!"
"And we both know she can't knit worth a damn. So come on." Marcus began to tug Oliver down the hallway, walking backwards to avoid having to let go of him.
"What do you think you're doing?" Oliver sighed, clearly not amused.
"You got me sticky. You owe me a shower."
"I owe you a…" Oliver trailed off, considering Marcus's words. His eyes lit up when he finally came to a conclusion. "MARCUS FLINT! If you think you're going to get sex out of me after you made fun of my mother you are sadly mistaken!"
A/N: A real drabble that didn't end up being over 4000 words? Woah. I love Marcus/Oliver, Flint/Wood, Chaser/Keeper. Oliver would probably be twenty-three & the keeper for Puddlemere United. And Marcus would be twenty-four & chaser/co-captain for the Falmouth Falcons.