Cowboys and Angels

moment twenty-nine: priorities (15 august 1992.)

Terence was in the shower when Marcus entered the Slytherin bathrooms, the water playing down his boyish form. Terence was always one of those guys who would look far younger than he actually was, and it certainly wasn't something that Marcus ever had a problem with. Making sure there was no-one around or any sign of anyone approaching, he quickly wrapped his left arm around the other young man's chest, and pulled Terence close to him, kissing the side of his neck. Terence melted against him, chuckling softly.

"Hey, Marc. Was hoping you'd stop by."

Flint stiffened slightly, before relaxing. That was one of the reasons he was going to have to get rid of Terence, and soon. It was all very well for them to be fuck buddies, but pet names were not Marcus' thing, and he certainly didn't allow anyone to call him Marc. Flint didn't do relationships; he just did people. Terence's obsession had served its purpose and so had he. Although, at least, he wasn't a half bad fuck.

It was of course, one of the privileges of being a Slytherin. The strong invariably fucked the weak, and if the weak didn't like it, they could go jump off the Astronomy Tower. You usually started when you were in fifth year, and it was a known fact that first years were off limits as a rule. Marcus had always preferred fucking guys to girls, simply before there was more of a fight, a challenge. The result was the same: a conquest, but at least a guy usually tried to make it fun. Girls just lay there, and took it, no matter how hard you hit them. They just did nothing, as if their passive resistance might mean he'd stop. He didn't admittedly, but he was less likely to fuck girls. Generally speaking, one hole was good as another; it was what lay around it that made the difference.

"Course. Had to catch up with you, didn't I?", Marcus grinned, and slapped Terence's firm arse. It was a relatively simple process to soap up two fingers and prepare Terence, causing him to relax against Marcus and moan slightly, the hot water covering both of them.

He fucked Terence quickly with his fingers, wanting to waste no time as his teeth nipped and marked Terence's smooth flesh, and pulled out, washing the fingers in the spray from the shower. All that was left was to actually fuck him - easily accomplished.

They both groaned, and Flint tightened his arm around Terence's upper chest, bringing his closer in, almost impaling the young man. They'd been doing this for nearly three years, and Terence still felt as good around him as ever. As Terence himself had observed a year back, it was lucky he was a masochist and Marcus a sadist, or they'd never have got on so well when it came to fucking.

Terence's head lolled against Flint's shoulder, and he started babbling. "Oh, yeah, Marc, that is so good, oh, Marc, oh yeah..." Unbidden, an image rose to his mind - Wood. Oliver Wood, proud Gryffindor Keeper, right where Terence was now. That would be the perfect victory; almost as good as winning Quidditch, putting Wood in his place like that. Sure, Wood seemed to be about as sexual as a brick wall, but he couldn't be that clueless, could he? Marcus fucked Terence, clutching him tight against his chest, and dreamed of another man.

Wood did have that cock-sucking mouth, after all. And that fucking accent. It'd be fucking hot to tear the moans from his mouth, see how he sounded. Oh yeah. Marcus sped up, panting, and pictured it in his mind. Wood, lightly muscled - Keepers always had a different build from Seekers, and he'd been taller than Terence as well, and Merlin, he could put up with the kind of shit that fell out of Terence' mouth if Wood was saying it.

"Oh yeah, oh fuck Flint, yeah, that's so damn good oh yeah oh please fuck me..." Reality and fantasy clashed in Marcus's mind and resolved into one. He came with a cry, and Terence a few seconds later, and pulled out, pushing Terence flat against the shower wall.

"What the fuck?" Terence cried.

"You're dropped from the team," Marcus informed him flatly, stepping back and grabbing a towel. "Oh, and don't fucking call me Marc."