***Sorry this took so long and that it's so short. I seem to fight myself
when I write on this. I don't know what's wrong with me. I usually write
mostly dialogue, but somehow, that doesn't fit these two. They seem more
like action men. I'm a slave to their desires, but I can't give up without
a fight.***
Oliver sat at the Gryffindor table, laughing at the Weasley twins, as usual. Shaking his head, he reached down to his plate to pick up a piece of chicken and pop it into his mouth. He reached for his cup, but noticed that some grease had gotten on his fingers. Not wanting his beverage to slip out of his hands, he slowly licked his fingers clean, one by one. First taking the whole digit between his lips then removing it, just to meticulously run his tongue along the warm, wet flesh.
None of the other Gryffindors noticed the sensual act, however, one Slytherin did. Flint had been studying Wood for days after seeing him in the quidditch locker room. Still not knowing how best to approach the object of his obsession, Marcus kept his distance, content only to watch.
But something needed to be done. The only question was what. Well, what and when. Glancing down at his plate, Marcus speared his potatoes. Then, upon hearing more laughter from the Gryffindor table, looked up to see his Oliver chuckling again at the Weasley's expense.
Smiling, Wood turned to that do-good Potter to talk. What Flint wouldn't give to be able to hear their conversation. Or at least, read lips. That little twat was leaning in to whisper something in Oliver's ear with a hand laying intimately on his shoulder, and Marcus had to stop himself from running across the Great Hall and beating the whelp to a pulp. No one should ever be that close to Oliver. No one but him.
However, the closeness didn't last long as Wood moved away, returning his attention to those two redheads. Thankfully Oliver seemed to be uneasy with how Harry had just acted.
Suddenly, all of Marcus' thoughts fled his mind as Oliver turned towards the Slytherin table. For one brief moment, their eyes collided, and everyone else disappeared. But that annoying Golden Boy interrupted it by tapping on Wood's shoulder, drawing his attention.
Flint released the breath that he had been holding, taking comfort in the blush that spread across Oliver's cheeks.
Oliver sat at the Gryffindor table, laughing at the Weasley twins, as usual. Shaking his head, he reached down to his plate to pick up a piece of chicken and pop it into his mouth. He reached for his cup, but noticed that some grease had gotten on his fingers. Not wanting his beverage to slip out of his hands, he slowly licked his fingers clean, one by one. First taking the whole digit between his lips then removing it, just to meticulously run his tongue along the warm, wet flesh.
None of the other Gryffindors noticed the sensual act, however, one Slytherin did. Flint had been studying Wood for days after seeing him in the quidditch locker room. Still not knowing how best to approach the object of his obsession, Marcus kept his distance, content only to watch.
But something needed to be done. The only question was what. Well, what and when. Glancing down at his plate, Marcus speared his potatoes. Then, upon hearing more laughter from the Gryffindor table, looked up to see his Oliver chuckling again at the Weasley's expense.
Smiling, Wood turned to that do-good Potter to talk. What Flint wouldn't give to be able to hear their conversation. Or at least, read lips. That little twat was leaning in to whisper something in Oliver's ear with a hand laying intimately on his shoulder, and Marcus had to stop himself from running across the Great Hall and beating the whelp to a pulp. No one should ever be that close to Oliver. No one but him.
However, the closeness didn't last long as Wood moved away, returning his attention to those two redheads. Thankfully Oliver seemed to be uneasy with how Harry had just acted.
Suddenly, all of Marcus' thoughts fled his mind as Oliver turned towards the Slytherin table. For one brief moment, their eyes collided, and everyone else disappeared. But that annoying Golden Boy interrupted it by tapping on Wood's shoulder, drawing his attention.
Flint released the breath that he had been holding, taking comfort in the blush that spread across Oliver's cheeks.