Title: The Game Begins
Author: Never
Pairing: Marcus/Oliver
Rating: PG
Warning: Only thoughts of Flint's nasty teeth.
Summary: Before a game, Flint dreams of Wood.
Author's Notes: In response to three senses challenge.
***
Flint rubbed his finger along the smooth wood of his Nimbus 2001 broomstick. Wood. Almost everything reminded him of Wood, Oliver Wood. Although this particular object wasn't terribly hard to connect to that surreal Gryffindor.
The Slytherin Captain stepped onto the pitch for the quidditch game against those pathetic Gryffindors and their beautiful captain. A slight breeze brushed up against his face as Wood flew by, throwing a smirk back to archrival. At least, that's how Flint assumed that Wood would describe him, and their relationship.
Asking Flint would give a completely different answer. The Slytherin secretly worshipped Oliver. Dreamed of running his fingers through that soft, silky brown hair. Carefully study his entire body until he knew it all by heart. Lick off every drop of sweat, taking in the very essence of Wood. Breathe him in. Flint wanted to do everything to Wood; everything with Wood.
Marcus mounted his broom and joined the others in the air. Making one quick lap, he took his position among his teammates, all the while stealing glances at the opposing Keeper. As soon as the game began, Flint would be free to approach those three hoops, and he couldn't wait. A whistle screech pierced his ears. And the game begins.
Author: Never
Pairing: Marcus/Oliver
Rating: PG
Warning: Only thoughts of Flint's nasty teeth.
Summary: Before a game, Flint dreams of Wood.
Author's Notes: In response to three senses challenge.
***
Flint rubbed his finger along the smooth wood of his Nimbus 2001 broomstick. Wood. Almost everything reminded him of Wood, Oliver Wood. Although this particular object wasn't terribly hard to connect to that surreal Gryffindor.
The Slytherin Captain stepped onto the pitch for the quidditch game against those pathetic Gryffindors and their beautiful captain. A slight breeze brushed up against his face as Wood flew by, throwing a smirk back to archrival. At least, that's how Flint assumed that Wood would describe him, and their relationship.
Asking Flint would give a completely different answer. The Slytherin secretly worshipped Oliver. Dreamed of running his fingers through that soft, silky brown hair. Carefully study his entire body until he knew it all by heart. Lick off every drop of sweat, taking in the very essence of Wood. Breathe him in. Flint wanted to do everything to Wood; everything with Wood.
Marcus mounted his broom and joined the others in the air. Making one quick lap, he took his position among his teammates, all the while stealing glances at the opposing Keeper. As soon as the game began, Flint would be free to approach those three hoops, and he couldn't wait. A whistle screech pierced his ears. And the game begins.