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themightyflynn
Recipient:fangqueen
Title: What Happens in the Locker Room
Pairing: Marcus/Draco, Marcus/Oliver
Request/Prompt Used: The Quidditch suggestions, and the idea of mixing and matching a threesome (sort of!)
Rating: R.
Word Count: 1351
Summary: A Keeper, a Beater, and a reserve Seeker walk into a shower block…
Notes: Dear fangqueen, I absolutely adored your wishlist when I saw it! I’ve taken the idea of mixing a few of your pairings and worked it into a not-quite threesome. I hope you like it!
Mods, can I get a user tag, please? 😊
It had been a long and hard practice session and Oliver was just about beat. His shoulders burned, his thighs and hips ached from how tightly he had been gripping his broom, and his fingers were stiff from the cold, but he knew the effort he was putting in would be worth it. Puddlemere United had won the Championship three years in a row now, and he would be absolutely damned if they lost this year because he had been half-arsing his practice sessions.
Wandering into the changeroom, he peeled his jersey off, scrunched it up and threw it towards his locker. He took a few seconds to examine his left shoulder in the mirror, twisting so he could get a good look. That bastard Flint had hit him with a Bludger that he was supposedly practicing with an hour before and, while he knew that there were no broken bones, the developing bruise made it clear that Oliver would be stiff and sore in the morning.
He was just heading off towards the showers when he was stopped dead in his tracks by what sounded very much like a stifled moan. Tilting his head to the side, he listened intently, wondering whether his recent dry streak had caused him to hallucinate. But no, there it was again: a rather desperate-sounding moan echoing through the changeroom from the showers. It was at this point that Oliver knew he should just turn around and leave. Whoever was in the showers clearly wanted privacy and, really, who was Oliver to interrupt something like this?
“Mmm, ohh… Marc, I – I…”
The voice was cut off by a loud groan, causing Oliver’s eyes to widen. Marc. There was only one person with that name who had access to Puddlemere’s changerooms: Marcus Flint. With curiosity now burning brightly inside him – a curiosity that he refused to examine closer – Oliver quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing and tossed it in the vague direction of his locker. He paused just before turning the corner into the showers to take a deep breath and unclench his hands.
“Having a good time of it, boys?”
Oliver strode into the showers as though he hadn’t heard anything. Flint was sprawled on the tiles with Draco Malfoy beside him, both of them completely naked and out of breath. Tempting as it was to raise an eyebrow at their appearance, Oliver kept his composure, merely moving over to the shower two down from the one spraying steaming hot water over the two of them.
“Mmm, I’d say it’s been a brilliant practice session, Wood. Thanks for asking.”
Malfoy’s voice was low and rough, but he still managed to sound smug. Oliver huffed out a small, unamused chuckle before turning his shower on. He knew Malfoy being hired as the team’s new reserve Seeker the previous month had caused troubles with both the team’s sponsors as well as with certain factions of their fans, but Oliver looked more to the bigger picture. The Malfoy family had been ruined in the aftermath of the war, yes, but that didn’t change the fact that Draco had put in the time and effort it took to be able to beat out the rest of the challengers for the title. It wasn’t like Lucius could have afforded to bribe Draco’s way onto the team any longer, so it was clear that this time, he had gotten in based on his skill alone. That had been enough for Oliver, even if it wasn’t enough for the sponsors.
Standing in the stream of hot water, Oliver found it surprisingly easy to forget about the two lying on the tiles beside him. Besides the occasional hiss of a whisper, and the spray of his shower, the room was completely silent. Oliver closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing the hot water to run in rivulets down his face and throat. It felt so good to have the sweat and dirt washed away that he allowed himself to become lost in the moment. His aches and pains also slowly began to recede under the combination of the flow of the hot water as well as his hands running over his muscles, kneading them until they relaxed. He’d almost forgotten what he had walked in on until a soft voice broke him out of his warm daze.
“Enjoying yourself, Wood?”
Oliver gasped and took an automatic step backwards when he opened his eyes to find Malfoy standing directly in front of him. “I–”
He was cut off when he backed into Flint’s incredibly solid chest behind him. Malfoy shot a grin over Oliver’s shoulder when Flint wrapped his arms around Oliver’s abdomen, securing him to his chest.
“Oh, I think he is, Draco.” The whispered words sent a shiver straight through Oliver. “Perhaps a little too much…”
“What are you–”
Oliver’s words were cut off again when one of Flint’s hands slid down his body to brush against the top of his thigh. The tremble the touch sent through him went straight to his prick; his already half hard prick. Christ. Oliver’s eyes slid shut as embarrassment flooded through him.
“Let me go.”
“Oh, now he’s embarrassed, Draco! After putting on a display like that right in front of us.”
“I…” Oliver sighed. “It wasn’t a display, Flint, you moron. I was washing myself. With soap, you know? I assume you’ve heard of the stuff.”
“Has he always been this defiant?” Malfoy sounded amused.
“You have no idea.”
Oliver sighed. “What do you want?”
Flint chuckled behind him, but it was Malfoy who responded. “We want to watch, of course.”
“Unless you’d like a hand.”
Oliver’s breath left him in a rush as he felt Flint’s hand moving on the sensitive skin at the top of his thigh. His eyes closed and his mouth opened to respond – to tell them to shove it – but the only sound he could manage was a breathy moan. It had been way too long since he had felt someone else’s hands on him and it seemed that his hormones weren’t going to let him pass the opportunity up.
“Sounds like a yes to me. What do you think, Draco?”
Opening his eyes, Oliver watched as Malfoy slowly smiled at the two of them. It was clear that he liked the idea of being allowed to watch, even before he opened his mouth. Stepping back so his shoulders rested on the tiles behind him, his smile turned to a leer.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Flint wasn’t designed to be soft and gentle, Oliver knew. His hands were calloused and hard on Oliver’s skin, but it only added to Oliver’s arousal. Leaning his head back, Oliver panted as Flint worked him, his hand only lubricated by the hot water and whatever leftover soap was still on Oliver’s skin.
“Gonna be quick.”
Oliver had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself from groaning at the sound of Flint’s deep voice in his ear. He blinked his eyes open as his stomach muscles clenched.
“I…”
“Go on, Wood. Let me see you.”
Malfoy’s flushed face swam into view through the haze of lust clouding Oliver’s vision. His lips were parted as he panted, but it was the motion of his hand that Oliver focussed on. Pleasure swept through him as he realised that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, wanking to the sight of Oliver receiving a hand job.
One last twist of Flint’s hand was all it took to tip Oliver over the edge. His body seemed to be trying to double over as his release hit him, but Flint’s strong arms prevented it, holding him upright. Oliver’s knees hit the tiles with a thud when Flint released him. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the floor in front of him, preventing himself from falling on his face in the shower. A grunt reached his ears a few seconds later, followed shortly by the sound of Malfoy sliding to the floor.
“A really fucking brilliant practice session, Wood.”
themightyflynnRecipient:
fangqueenTitle: What Happens in the Locker Room
Pairing: Marcus/Draco, Marcus/Oliver
Request/Prompt Used: The Quidditch suggestions, and the idea of mixing and matching a threesome (sort of!)
Rating: R.
Word Count: 1351
Summary: A Keeper, a Beater, and a reserve Seeker walk into a shower block…
Notes: Dear fangqueen, I absolutely adored your wishlist when I saw it! I’ve taken the idea of mixing a few of your pairings and worked it into a not-quite threesome. I hope you like it!
Mods, can I get a user tag, please? 😊
It had been a long and hard practice session and Oliver was just about beat. His shoulders burned, his thighs and hips ached from how tightly he had been gripping his broom, and his fingers were stiff from the cold, but he knew the effort he was putting in would be worth it. Puddlemere United had won the Championship three years in a row now, and he would be absolutely damned if they lost this year because he had been half-arsing his practice sessions.
Wandering into the changeroom, he peeled his jersey off, scrunched it up and threw it towards his locker. He took a few seconds to examine his left shoulder in the mirror, twisting so he could get a good look. That bastard Flint had hit him with a Bludger that he was supposedly practicing with an hour before and, while he knew that there were no broken bones, the developing bruise made it clear that Oliver would be stiff and sore in the morning.
He was just heading off towards the showers when he was stopped dead in his tracks by what sounded very much like a stifled moan. Tilting his head to the side, he listened intently, wondering whether his recent dry streak had caused him to hallucinate. But no, there it was again: a rather desperate-sounding moan echoing through the changeroom from the showers. It was at this point that Oliver knew he should just turn around and leave. Whoever was in the showers clearly wanted privacy and, really, who was Oliver to interrupt something like this?
“Mmm, ohh… Marc, I – I…”
The voice was cut off by a loud groan, causing Oliver’s eyes to widen. Marc. There was only one person with that name who had access to Puddlemere’s changerooms: Marcus Flint. With curiosity now burning brightly inside him – a curiosity that he refused to examine closer – Oliver quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing and tossed it in the vague direction of his locker. He paused just before turning the corner into the showers to take a deep breath and unclench his hands.
“Having a good time of it, boys?”
Oliver strode into the showers as though he hadn’t heard anything. Flint was sprawled on the tiles with Draco Malfoy beside him, both of them completely naked and out of breath. Tempting as it was to raise an eyebrow at their appearance, Oliver kept his composure, merely moving over to the shower two down from the one spraying steaming hot water over the two of them.
“Mmm, I’d say it’s been a brilliant practice session, Wood. Thanks for asking.”
Malfoy’s voice was low and rough, but he still managed to sound smug. Oliver huffed out a small, unamused chuckle before turning his shower on. He knew Malfoy being hired as the team’s new reserve Seeker the previous month had caused troubles with both the team’s sponsors as well as with certain factions of their fans, but Oliver looked more to the bigger picture. The Malfoy family had been ruined in the aftermath of the war, yes, but that didn’t change the fact that Draco had put in the time and effort it took to be able to beat out the rest of the challengers for the title. It wasn’t like Lucius could have afforded to bribe Draco’s way onto the team any longer, so it was clear that this time, he had gotten in based on his skill alone. That had been enough for Oliver, even if it wasn’t enough for the sponsors.
Standing in the stream of hot water, Oliver found it surprisingly easy to forget about the two lying on the tiles beside him. Besides the occasional hiss of a whisper, and the spray of his shower, the room was completely silent. Oliver closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing the hot water to run in rivulets down his face and throat. It felt so good to have the sweat and dirt washed away that he allowed himself to become lost in the moment. His aches and pains also slowly began to recede under the combination of the flow of the hot water as well as his hands running over his muscles, kneading them until they relaxed. He’d almost forgotten what he had walked in on until a soft voice broke him out of his warm daze.
“Enjoying yourself, Wood?”
Oliver gasped and took an automatic step backwards when he opened his eyes to find Malfoy standing directly in front of him. “I–”
He was cut off when he backed into Flint’s incredibly solid chest behind him. Malfoy shot a grin over Oliver’s shoulder when Flint wrapped his arms around Oliver’s abdomen, securing him to his chest.
“Oh, I think he is, Draco.” The whispered words sent a shiver straight through Oliver. “Perhaps a little too much…”
“What are you–”
Oliver’s words were cut off again when one of Flint’s hands slid down his body to brush against the top of his thigh. The tremble the touch sent through him went straight to his prick; his already half hard prick. Christ. Oliver’s eyes slid shut as embarrassment flooded through him.
“Let me go.”
“Oh, now he’s embarrassed, Draco! After putting on a display like that right in front of us.”
“I…” Oliver sighed. “It wasn’t a display, Flint, you moron. I was washing myself. With soap, you know? I assume you’ve heard of the stuff.”
“Has he always been this defiant?” Malfoy sounded amused.
“You have no idea.”
Oliver sighed. “What do you want?”
Flint chuckled behind him, but it was Malfoy who responded. “We want to watch, of course.”
“Unless you’d like a hand.”
Oliver’s breath left him in a rush as he felt Flint’s hand moving on the sensitive skin at the top of his thigh. His eyes closed and his mouth opened to respond – to tell them to shove it – but the only sound he could manage was a breathy moan. It had been way too long since he had felt someone else’s hands on him and it seemed that his hormones weren’t going to let him pass the opportunity up.
“Sounds like a yes to me. What do you think, Draco?”
Opening his eyes, Oliver watched as Malfoy slowly smiled at the two of them. It was clear that he liked the idea of being allowed to watch, even before he opened his mouth. Stepping back so his shoulders rested on the tiles behind him, his smile turned to a leer.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Flint wasn’t designed to be soft and gentle, Oliver knew. His hands were calloused and hard on Oliver’s skin, but it only added to Oliver’s arousal. Leaning his head back, Oliver panted as Flint worked him, his hand only lubricated by the hot water and whatever leftover soap was still on Oliver’s skin.
“Gonna be quick.”
Oliver had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself from groaning at the sound of Flint’s deep voice in his ear. He blinked his eyes open as his stomach muscles clenched.
“I…”
“Go on, Wood. Let me see you.”
Malfoy’s flushed face swam into view through the haze of lust clouding Oliver’s vision. His lips were parted as he panted, but it was the motion of his hand that Oliver focussed on. Pleasure swept through him as he realised that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, wanking to the sight of Oliver receiving a hand job.
One last twist of Flint’s hand was all it took to tip Oliver over the edge. His body seemed to be trying to double over as his release hit him, but Flint’s strong arms prevented it, holding him upright. Oliver’s knees hit the tiles with a thud when Flint released him. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on the floor in front of him, preventing himself from falling on his face in the shower. A grunt reached his ears a few seconds later, followed shortly by the sound of Malfoy sliding to the floor.
“A really fucking brilliant practice session, Wood.”
