Bottom Harry One Shots

Some Wood in the Corridor

Summary: Oliver stumbles upon Marcus Flint in the corridor, things happen.

Ship: OliverWoodxMarcusFlint

All credit goes to Violetweasley19 on Ao3

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Oliver Wood clutched his bag tightly to his chest as he exited the DADA classroom. His cheeks burned. Was he coming down with a fever? That had to be the reason. It couldn't have anything to do with the way Flint was looking at him, as if he were something to...devour.

"Stupid Flint and his fucking games." said Oliver. A shiver running down his spine. This had not been the first time he caught Flint looking at him in such a way. Those dark eyes...that mischievous grin. Oliver hated that smug look on his fucking face.

Oliver rounded a corner, his mind filled with Flints muscular quidditch body. So much so that as he hit something hard and both fell.

"Watch where you are going, Wood!" Flint said, his eyes flaming.

The two were tangled together, arms and legs in a mess of limbs. Oliver couldn't help but think that he should stay there for a while. Flint looked a lot nicer and... oh, ffs, a lot hotter from this perspective, looking down on him.

Only know did Oliver notice that his knees were situated on both sides of the other boys muscular legs, something hard pressing against his.

"Is this your wand Flint?" Oliver joking asked and he reached down to squeeze his leg.

"Oh you wish it was, Wood, you are such a comedian," Marcus said as he twisted Oliver around so Oliver was on his back on the ground and Marcus was on top.

It was then that Oliver remembered that they were in the corridor with everything exposed. Flint's wood on his leg was clouding his judgement and he didn't want to move. Hot kisses were planted on his neck and he gave in.

God he felt good. Flint was so fucking fit. Oliver felt so small wrapped in his embrace. If he wanted to resist, he knew it would be futile. But, God he wanted this. He didn't know how much. "Flint," he panted. "We have to...not here..." Flint nibbled his ear. "Prefect's bathroom...11pm?" Oliver let out a shudder. Oh fuck. He wasn't sure he could wait.

"Oliver, you must be joking!" Flint replied, his voice even darker as normally and the fire in his eyes so hot he could feel it all over his body. "I've waited so long for this, I'm not going to wait until 11pm! Either we go there now or we stay here and finish what we started, who cares who walks past. I want you." And with that, he kissed him roughly. Oliver paused and thought about his options just for a second, and waited for the intensity to build and make Marcus squirm.

"I want you Marcus, I want you here and now. Please let's finish what we started. make love to me Marcus." Oliver said reaching up to grab Marcus by the neck and nibble at his ears. Flint growled as he took Oliver into a bruising kiss. In a flash, their clothes had been vanished. Flint pressed Oliver hard against him, their throbbing erections pressed against each other. Oliver let out a moan. "Fuuuck...please...now." Marcus spun Oliver around, who placed his hands on the wall. Flint kicked his lets apart as he devoured the sight before him. With a quick lubrication spell, Marcus slid his fingers into Olivers tight hole. Oliver cried out as a second was inserted, stretching him...preparing for what he wanted

As Oliver cried out Marcus quickly added a protection charm so Oliver wouldn't feel pain only pressure. Oliver's cries turned into moans as Marcus slid the rest of himself inside. "You like that don't you wood?"

Oliver could only groan as Marcus started to thrust. He had never felt this kind of pleasure before and Oliver wondered what had taken him so long to realise it. The two bodies glided together as Marcus casted another charm, one to boost stamina. "We will be going all night, I hope you are ready for this," Flint gave Oliver a particularly hard ramming as Oliver could only scream his consent.

The whole night was an understatement. Even after they parted for the first time, they never did go back to hating each other. They fucked whenever they could, in the halls, empty classrooms, astronomy tower... And during their Quidditch games, there were two rods aligned with broomsticks, hands grasping them together, hot glances flying over the field with the quaffle.