Title: Improvisations ch. 2
Author: themightyflynn
Character(s): Marcus Flint, Oliver Wood
Pairing(s): Marcus/Oliver
Rating: PG-13 (I think! :/)
Warning(s): Bad language, mention of sex and an erection.
Challenge(s): Written for mixandmatch100 prompt 31: Decisive.
Word count: 400
Author's notes: Chapter 1
Read on Ao3


I can’t get out of this. Sorry.

Marcus stared down at the crumpled scrap of paper in disbelief. Grabbing his quill, he clenched it in his hand for a few seconds before scribbling one word: IMPROVISE!

Fucking Wood. Fucking useless, worthless bastard. Scrunching the paper up again, Marcus glared at the back of Wood’s head before taking aim. It hit him with a soft thud. Glancing around, he grinned when he realised that old Sprout hadn’t noticed. He was still smiling when he returned his gaze to Wood. The sight of Wood glaring at him as he retrieved the piece of paper sent a jolt through Marcus’ stomach that went straight south.

He’d hated the idea that he had to repeat his seventh year. Not that he had plans for when he left, but sitting in Herbology passing notes with Oliver Wood was not how he had imagined his nineteenth year would play out. But then, he reconsidered, passing notes in class was acceptable when the notes were organising their next encounter. Being nineteen years old, Marcus found himself rather grateful for an outlet for all the sexual energy he seemed capable of producing. Especially when he was watching Wood flying in front of him dressed in those almost sinfully tight leather pants… Shifting uncomfortably, he adjusted himself in his trousers.

The next note landed on the desk in front of him and bounced into his chest. Glancing up, he checked to make sure he wasn’t being watched before opening it.

Desperate, much?

Marcus’ eyes narrowed.

Fuck you, he scrawled before pelting Wood in the back of the head again.

Exactly.

Marcus’ head began to swim as his blood drained downwards. He didn’t get to reply before a second piece of paper landed beside the first.

Behind the Quidditch equipment shed. Lunch.

Slipping his free hand beneath the desk, he squeezed his cock, trying to give himself some form of relief. The very idea that he was going to be getting some in – he checked his watch – less than half an hour was enough to have him hard enough to wipe his mind clean of everything else. Rocking his hips forward, he looked up at see Wood watching him intently. His eyes were dark and intense, fixed directly on Marcus.

Sitting up straighter, Marcus gave a decisive nod. When Wood grinned, Marcus rolled his eyes. Twenty-five minutes. He could wait.