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Marcus has got Oliver pressed up against the lockers, metal digging into the shorter boy’s back, nipping harshly at the Keeper’s bared neck. Oliver arches up into Marcus’s hand as the older boy palms him through his quidditch pants, the coarse fabric torture on his cock. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s between them two, so Marcus dips his hand underneath Oliver’s jersey and starts pinching at pert nipples. The moans dripping out of the brunette’s mouth echo in the empty locker room; Oliver’s flushing at the evidence of his own arousal, but he can’t keep them in check today - winning his final quidditch game of seventh year has gotten him on an adrenaline rush.
“Do you realize,” Marcus says breathily, rolling his hips down against Oliver’s, “That in your entire quidditch career, we’ve never fucked in the locker room?” He leans in to slip his tongue into Oliver’s hot little mouth, the muffled whimper music to his ears.
Oliver swallows thickly, “Well, now’s our chance.”
Marcus’s eyes glint with excitement and arousal, ready to take full advantage of this. It’s almost summer and graduation and the real world is daunting; Marcus isn’t really sure how far this can keep going.
So. This situation might not be happening again anytime soon, and Marcus’s going to make this good for the both of them. Oliver’s rutting against his thigh now, hard line of his cock apparent, sucking on Marcus’s pulse point. They’re both forceful and violent in their kissing today, and Marcus can taste the iron of blood on his tongue as he runs it over his own swollen lips.
He reaches down to grope Oliver’s ass, bringing the brunette’s hips closer to his, and they let out simultaneous groans as their cocks rub up against each other. Marcus hears Oliver protest when he moves away, only to shut up as the Chaser drops to his knees, nuzzling at the wet spot of pre-come on Oliver’s quidditch pants. Marcus grins, pleased that his boyfriend had decided to go commando today. This makes his following action immensely easier.
The quidditch pants are pulled down, and Oliver’s cock juts out, red and swollen already. Marcus huffs out a hot breath, and Oliver squirms at the sensation. He lathes his tongue over the slit, Oliver’s mouth fallen open, face contorted in silent pleasure as Marcus works at the sensitive spot beneath the cock head. It’s only a few minutes later that Marcus slips the tip between his lips, sucking gently and looking coyly up at the panting Gryffindor .
“Marcus - s-stop teasing, I swear to God.” Oliver’s command ends in a growl as Marcus gives a particular harsh suck. Oliver’s hands are suddenly rooted in his hair, gripping tightly to dark strands. The pain sends a jolt of arousal down to Marcus’s own cock, and he presses his palm down over his own pants, easing the ache a little. He hears a “Don’t touch yourself” above him and reluctantly moves his hand away. He can never deny Oliver’s requests when the brunette is like this, drunk on pleasure, only intent on chasing his release. It’s rare that Oliver comes undone - he’s so focused and driven all the time that distractions bounce off him easily. Marcus gets a thrill at being the one able to make Oliver chase his own pleasure, selfish and needy.
Oliver’s hand forces him down more and more, and Marcus lets Oliver fuck his mouth for a couple moments before taking the control back. He swallows all the way to the base of the cock, dark curls meeting his nose. Spit is dribbling out the side of his mouth, but Marcus knows Oliver likes it messy, so he leaves it, paying little mind. The weight of Oliver on his tongue, filling his mouth thickly is all he’s focused on. His tongue runs along the vein on the underside of the cock, causing a hissed “Fuck” to fall from Oliver’s lips. Marcus moans on purpose when he swallows Oliver’s whole cock down, knowing the vibrations will drive Oliver crazy. He’s rewarded by the thunk of Oliver’s head falling back against the locker, a strangled groan leaving his boyfriend’s lips.
He hums again, but is pulled off abruptly. “If you continue with that,” Oliver pants above him, eyes dilated and dark, “I’ll cum too fast.”
Marcus smirks up at his boyfriend. “I have no intention of letting it stop there, babe.” Oliver concedes with a sigh, which then rises to a breathy whine as Marcus swallows him down again, humming their school tune. Oliver will never be able to hear the band play without thinking of this, and his hips are jerking helplessly against Marcus’s hands keeping him pinned up against the wall. The slick sounds of Marcus’s mouth on his cock are loud in the locker room, and Oliver shudders as he imagines someone walking in on them at this very moment. It’s not a position that two 7th year captains should be caught in, but Oliver almost wants his pleasure to be known, wants everyone to know how good Marcus can make him feel.
The thought of being caught drives his arousal further, and when Marcus scrapes his teeth very very lightly, Oliver comes with a shout of Marcus’s name. Marcus looks up, pleased at the sight of a panting, flushed Oliver, eyes half hooded from the haze of pleasure.
Marcus’s knees crack as he stands up quickly, pressing his lips against Oliver’s eager ones, letting the Keeper taste himself on Marcus’s tongue. Oliver’s hands are running up Marcus’s chest, kneading at pectorals, and with a slight push, they’re face to face on the ground of the locker room, shirts and pants peeled off. Unlike Oliver, Marcus still has boxer briefs on underneath. But now they’re suffocatingly tight, and he’s grinding down against Oliver’s hand as the brunette touches him, having been left untouched the whole time he was sucking Oliver off.
“Want everything, Marcus, c’mon.” Oliver’s murmuring into his ear, so Marcus stops rutting harshly, moving back to slide his underwear off. Oliver’s grin turns into a throaty moan as their cocks rub up against each other with no clothes in the way. It’s slick and hot and torturous, Marcus muffling his own noises by sealing his mouth over Oliver’s. They’re still nipping at each other’s lips, less harsh, letting the rest of their body do the talking.
Marcus’s hands move further down, teasing a finger feather-light around Oliver’s ass. Oliver grinds harder at the sensation, gasping a little as Marcus presses down against his perineum. Marcus’s fingers are rubbing at Oliver’s entrance. It’s not enough to breach the ring of muscle but just enough to get Oliver antsy, itching to be filled. With his other hand, he digs out the small tube of lube he stashed in his briefs after the game.
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “I see you planned this.” He says with no malice.
Marcus laughs. “If you thought I’d let you go out without a bang, then you sorely underestimate me.” Oliver refuses to answer Marcus’s pun, instead uncapping the tube, squeezing a liberal amount over Marcus’s right hand. Marcus spreads the lube over his fingers, then slips his index back to tease along Oliver’s ass.
“Hurry up.” Oliver urges, as Marcus presses against him lightly.
“Be patient.” Marcus tugs at Oliver’s earlobe with his teeth, causing the boy to tilt his head back and bare his neck. Perfect. Marcus starts working at the sensitive spot right below Oliver’s jawline, simultaneously pressing one slick finger into the squirming boy. It earns him a content moan and Oliver’s pushing his hips down, trying to get more to fill him up.
“There, isn’t that worth the wait?” Marcus smirks, knowing full well that no, it’s not enough and Oliver’s greedy for more. The glare directed at him after his little quip confirms his thoughts.
Oliver’s hips thrust upwards, but Marcus’s moved his body off, now only hovering above him. Their only point of contact is where Marcus’s thrusting into Oliver with a single finger, lightly grazing the swollen prostate every now and then. Oliver huffs frustratedly.
“Stop stalling and do this - ohh - properly.” His boyfriend is incredibly eager today, and Marcus’s having a bit too much fun drawing this out. But he know’s Oliver’s patience will run thin soon, so he slips his index finger in, now hooking and scissoring with every thrust, a hissed ‘yes’ issuing from Oliver’s lips. It’s hot and tight around Marcus’s fingers, the walls pulsating around him as he massages the bump that has Oliver burying his head into Marcus’s chest in order to muffle his sounds. Just imagining the feeling of Oliver wrapped around his cock later, hot and needy, has Marcus drawing up the boy beneath him and kissing him greedily, tongue wrapping around the other’s and giving a good hard suck. Oliver pulls back when Marcus rubs especially hard against his prostate, letting out a choked sob at the overwhelming sensation.
Oliver’s hips are rocking up into the air, cock once again hard and searching for some needed friction. His eyelids flutter shut, biting his lip as Marcus reaches down to roll his balls gently in his palm. Oliver’s body is beaded with sweat, and he’s muttering a quiet litany of “Marcus, now, please please.”
“Not stretched enough yet, Oliver.”
“Don’t care.” Oliver says, flipping Marcus over so his fingers slip out and Oliver is straddling his hips. “Don’t,” Oliver presses an open mouthed kiss to Marcus’s neck.
“Fucking,” A bite at his collar bone.
“Care.” He’s pressing up against Marcus’s torso, urging the Slytherin to get a move on. And Marcus knows that Oliver’s close to begging right now - he gets pushy during sex only when he’s so lost in pleasure that he can’t get his mind straight.
Marcus lays Oliver back down against the floor, hand stroking up his cock to take the edge off.
“Tell me what you want.”
Oliver blushes a brilliant red, muttering about pushy boyfriends and embarrassing kinks, but Marcus isn’t letting up until he hears what he wants to hear. “I don’t know what you want, Ollie.”
“Fuck.” Oliver curses, cock twitching as Marcus bites along his inner thighs.
“Hmm?” Marcus knows he’s driving his boyfriend crazy, knows that if he pushes it Oliver will probably try and punch him in the face, but seeing the flush spread all the way down the man beneath him’s torso is enough for him to keep pushing the buttons.
Oliver flings his arm over his face. “W-want…I-”
Marcus pushes his index finger back into Oliver, grazing the Keeper’s prostate ever so slightly. Oliver gives a shuddering sob.
“Marcus, please.”
At his boyfriend’s begging, Marcus almost gives in. Almost. But he knows that Oliver gets even more high strung hearing the dirty words spilling out of their mouths.
“Please what?” Marcus murmurs, voice low and dirty into Oliver’s ear, “ ‘Please fill me up? Please, I need your cock? Please, I want to be fucked so hard all I can do is beg to cum?’ ”
Oliver’s watching him now with a slack mouth, lust-blown eyes, as he chokes out a litany of yeses and pleases and gods.
Marcus’s finger presses in, hard. “Say it.”
“Please, please I want it, I want to be filled with your thick cock, I want it so badly, oh god, Marcus.” Oliver keens at the stimulation, cock weeping with pre-cum, and Marcus thinks he’s been torturing the Gryffindor for long enough.
He removes the arm that Oliver has his face buried into to survey his work. Eyes darkened with lust, blown wide, mouth bitten red, and a desperateness in his boyfriend’s face that Marcus wants to keep engrained in his memory forever.
He reaches down, spreading more lube over his cock and lines up against Oliver’s entrance, before pushing forward, breaching the ring of muscle quickly, the heat and tightness around his cock dizzying. Oliver moans brokenly underneath him.
The Keeper’s chest is rising and falling quickly, fingers fluttering where they’re resting against Marcus’s bicep. “C’mon,” Oliver mutters, “I can take it, more, Marcus.” Before Marcus can make sure his boyfriend’s actually adjusted, Oliver’s jerking his hips up, then down, sheathing Marcus inside of him with a swift motion. Marcus bites back a curse at the suddenness, arousal shooting through him, catching him unawares.
Oliver laughs breathlessly. “Too slow.” He moans as Marcus starts rolling his hips, head tipped back and brown hair messed on the floor.
Marcus glares at him with no heat behind his gaze. “Ungrateful when I try not to hurt you, tch.” He thrusts fast and rough in retaliation, shifting the angle in search for Oliver’s prostate. Oliver’s legs are wrapped around his waist, and he leans down, teeth working around a nipple while his hips move in rhythm. The Keeper’s biting down on his left hand, trying to muffle the groans he’s making as Marcus pistons in and out, wet squelches and obscene noises filling the locker room.
Marcus raises Oliver’s hips, allowing him to drive his hips deeper. It’s when Oliver starts whining, breathy ah-ah’s escaping him that Marcus knows he’s found Oliver’s prostate. He smiles smugly into Oliver’s neck, continuing with his thrusts. Oliver’s so good around him, always perfect and tight, and Marcus sucks along the beginnings of a hickey on Oliver’s neck in order to distract himself from the pleasure unwinding in the bottom of his stomach, trying to stave off his orgasm in order to get Oliver to his peak first.
Oliver’s a sight, brown hair stuck to his forehead, eyes screwed shut and mouth gaping open as Marcus thrusts into him. He’s given up on keeping himself quiet at this point - there’s no one around to hear anyways - lewd moans are echoing off the metal doors, answered by Marcus’s occasional groans when Oliver has enough of his head to purposefully clench tighter around the Chaser. Oliver’s cock is throbbing and leaking, begging to be touched - he reaches down a hand to jerk himself off, only for his arms to be pinned back to the floor.
“Nope.” Marcus pants, hips still working quickly, pressing into Oliver’s prostate with every stroke, “Gonna make you come without being touched.”
Oliver almost cries, body shivering at the words, but he’s so delirious on the feeling of Marcus’s cock sliding in and out of him that he can’t move his arms from where Marcus’s got him pinned. All he can do is grind his hips down in hopes of release. Marcus’s extremely pleased with the fucked out expression on Oliver’s face, pink lips swollen and shiny with spit.
Oliver’s eyes are half hooded when he’s leaning up to kiss Marcus, open mouthed and messy - pulling back on a particularly hard thrust and uttering a string of curses by Marcus’s ear, pleading for release. Marcus’s biting and nipping at Oliver’s neck, intent on marking him up as his, all his. He pulls Oliver up so now he’s sitting and Oliver’s sunken on his cock, gravity doing the work.
“Go on, ride me until you come.” Marcus’s gentle kisses along Oliver’s collar bone in great contrast to how he’s rubbing at Oliver’s nipples with quick little circles. Oliver groans at the stimulation, raising himself up then dropping down with a slick sound. The position makes it so that Marcus’s nailing Oliver’s prostate with every lowering of his body, and the pleasure drowns out the ache of his thighs as he rides Marcus. Oliver’s cock rubs against Marcus’s stomach, smearing a trail of pre come across the pale abdominals. The double stimulation and the friction against his cock has Oliver pressing his face against Marcus’s temple, whimpering, and it’s the whimpering that lets Marcus know that his boyfriend is close.
“Gonna - oh god - fuck, fuck Marcus, talk, talk, m’gonna cum.”
Marcus’s sharp grin sends thrills down Oliver’s spine.
“You wanna hear it? Wanna hear about how you look right now, little whore on my cock, begging for it?”
Oliver lets out a quiet sob, hips still working furiously.
“Look at you, needing it.” Marcus moans into Oliver’s ear. “So fucking tight around me. I bet you wish you could have my cock in you all day, bet you fuck yourself at night wishing it was me, bet you’re hoping somebody walks in right now to see you begging like a little slut- ” And then Oliver comes with a cry, body stiffening and shuddering as his release paints Marcus’s torso, cock trapped between their writhing bodies. Marcus thrusts continuously throughout, drawing out Oliver’s orgasm, his boyfriend’s walls fluttering deliciously around him.
Oliver’s panting at the sensitivity, still taking Marcus’s erratic thrusts, urging Marcus towards his release.
“Come inside me please, please, please Marcus.” He mumbles into Marcus’s neck, and it’s the begging that does it for Marcus, the sudden rush of his orgasm catching him by surprise, and his head is banging back against the locker doors, mouth open in a silent O. Stars are twinkling in his eyesight afterwards, but Oliver’s already leaning down to kiss him, tongue tracing his lips slowly, arms wrapped around his neck as his hips stutter to a halt. They make out for god knows how long, until Oliver’s lifting off from him, grimacing a little at the feeling of Marcus’s cock slipping out of him.
“That. That was fucking brilliant.” Marcus grins from where he’s still splayed out on the ground. Oliver laughs and gives a hum of approval as kisses are peppered across his face.
“Dirtiest fucking mouth in Hogwarts you’ve got, I swear.” The Keeper still has a light blush dusting his cheeks, probably the aftermath of running through everything he said a couple moments ago - Marcus can’t help but kiss him soundly.
Oliver straddles Marcus’s hips, allowing the older boy to pull him closer with strong arms and bite at his neck.
Marcus leers. “You should hear Bletchley talk about his conquests.”
“Oh, is that what you lot get up to in the dorms at night?”
The Slytherin doesn’t respond, only pressing his lips to his boyfriend’s ear, gentleness in contrast to how they were a couple minutes ago.
“You’ve resigned me to another three days of wearing turtlenecks.” Oliver huffs, as he runs his hand down his neck and chest, but his expression is content, floating on the after glow of his orgasm. Marcus snickers as he buries his face against Oliver’s sweaty shoulder, unabashedly running his hands down to knead at Oliver’s pert ass.
“Or you could give everyone something to talk about?”
Oliver swats at him, catching half of his hair and mussing it up even more from where it’s already sticking on end. Oliver has indents on his back from where he was pressed against the tiles of the locker room floor, and Marcus’s tracing them lightly, feeling slightly guilty. Oliver doesn’t seem to look too bothered, however, instead bringing Marcus’s hands up so they can cradle his face.
Oliver’s smirking at him, eyes bright and mischievous. “You know what? Maybe I will.” And Marcus feels a rush of satisfaction that everyone who takes a glance at the Gryffindor in the next few days will know that Oliver is his.