Title: Improvisations Ch. 6
Author: themightyflynn
Character(s): Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint
Pairing(s): Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Language
Challenge(s): mixandmatch100 prompt 37: Overwhelmed
Word count: 800
Author's notes: I am slowly catching up! :/ This chapter has very mild dubious consent issues.
Entire work on Ao3
This chapter on Ao3


Scrambling to right himself, Marcus shot Wood a glare. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Standing at the end of the aisle Marcus’ table sat in, Wood’s shoulders shook with mirth. The sight of the amusement in Wood’s eyes sent Marcus’ insides fluttering as he made it to his knees. When Wood got himself under control, he shrugged.

“Improvising?”

“That’s really fucking funny, Wood,” Marcus grumbled. Reaching up to one of the shelves, he pulled himself to his feet. “What do you want?”

Marcus had a good couple of inches on Wood, height-wise. He was also broader across the shoulders, something he prided himself on. Not that Wood was a slouch when it came to physicality. As the start to Marcus’ day attested, there was absolutely nothing he could complain about when it came to Wood’s looks. Straightening to his full height, Marcus looked down on him. Wood met his eyes with no hesitation.

“What do either of us ever want?”

There was a challenging tone to Wood’s voice. That wasn’t what Marcus focussed on, though. Heat flashed through Wood’s eyes as his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. The effort it took for Marcus to take a step back took him by surprise. He had always assumed that he was in complete control over this… thing they had started, but recent events seemed to have changed that. Clenching his hands by his sides, he took a deep breath.

“No.”

Shock crossed Wood’s face. “No?” He scoffed. “Since when do you not want to fu–”

“I said no, Wood.”

Something strange jolted through Marcus when Wood rolled his eyes and shook his head. It caused his stomach to lurch, but he ignored it. Taking another few steps backwards, he focussed on keeping his breathing even. It seemed to be that action that caught Wood’s attention; made him believe that Marcus was telling the truth. His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“You started this, Flint.”

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus’ arms crossed over his chest as the feeling that had jolted through him made an appearance again. It sent tingles down through his nerves, making them jump with tension. “And I can stop it just as easily.”

“‘Easily’? You think I’m easy, is that it?”

Marcus blinked. He hadn’t meant his words to be taken that way, but if Wood wanted to start an argument over a supposed insult, then he would take it. The feeling in his chest was spreading through him slowly, bringing a heat with it that was making him uncomfortable, to say the least. Rolling his shoulders, he curled his top lip as he stared down at Wood.

“I barely even had to touch you to have you nearly begging me for more.”

“What?” Wood took a step forwards, his eyebrows drawing down into a frown. “You’re dreaming, Flint.”

The mention of dreams caused Marcus’ stomach to lurch again, but he ignored it. The sensation spreading through him was definitely heating him up, sweat prickling over his top lip and brow. Perhaps he was coming down with something, he considered briefly before refocussing. He took a steadying breath before continuing the argument.

“‘It’s never been like that before,’” he mocked, his voice pitched high. “‘So good… Don’t stop…’ You’re like a fucking bitch in heat, Wood. Desperate and fucking gagging for it.”

Marcus would normally have seen the punch coming a mile away. With the way his insides were churning, however, Wood’s fist connected with his cheek before he even knew what was happening. Staggering backwards, he tripped over the chair he had fallen off a few minutes before. Wood was on top of him the second he hit the floor.

“You bastard.”

Wood grunted as he tried to connect with another couple of wild swings. Marcus raised his arms above his head to cover his face, trying to protect himself as best he could. It felt as though his right eye was going to explode. Wood had managed to connect directly with his cheekbone with that big left-hand swing, rattling Marcus’ teeth. Despite the pummelling he was currently suffering, though, the sensation was still rocking through him, more intense than ever.

“You lying fucking bastard.” Wood slipped a leg between Marcus’ thighs. “You want this, Flint; admit it. You want me.”

With Wood on top of him, it was difficult to deny the truth. The sensation swirled through Marcus’ chest and spread downwards, hardening him in his jeans. He gasped as it overwhelmed him, sending his head spinning with pleasure. Reaching up when Wood took a break from assaulting him, Marcus grasped a handful of his hair and pulled him down. Crashing their lips together, he let out a groan. Because, damn it, no matter what he told himself, he did want this; want Wood.