Jealous Lover

By: Brunette Believer

Rated: Mature

Warnings: Homosexual content, if this offends do not read.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this piece of fan fiction. All rights to these characters belong to the amazing JK Rowling.

A/N: Okay, well this is the first thing I've written in a long time and of course it has to be inappropriate, but I'm finding it's much harder to write fics with plots and believable characters these days. I guess I'm not as good of a writer as I once thought. Anyhoo, this is Marcus/Oliver slash, so if this offends you do not read. Please no flames, though constructive criticism is welcome. Hope you enjoy. J


My back hit the door before it had even fully closed. "Marcus!" I cried, as the larger man attacked my neck, kissing and sucking and biting. My knees melted as big hands wrapped around my waist and kneaded my arse. And really, why did I always have to be so easy?

"Mine," he breathed into my skin before grabbing my arse more firmly and lifting, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist or hang like a rag doll.

He carried me quickly to the bedroom and threw me down on the bed. I landed with a yelp which quickly turned into a moan as he literally wripped his shirt off and, dang, all those years of quidditch had done his body good. He smirked smugly down at me and crawled over me, his dark eyes frightening in their maddening lust and jealousy. He fisted a hand in my hair and melded our lips together and kissed just like he fought, rough and hard and dirty. Our tongues clashed and I dimly realized he'd gotten my shirt off and was now working on my pants and how did he do that? My pants and underwear were thrown to the far corners of the room and now there was nothing separating him from me. His hard chest meeting mine.

I moaned his name as he kissed down my collarbone and sucked on a nipple, fingers sweeping down between my cheeks and brushing lightly. I sucked in a deep breath as he summoned a bottle of lube from the nightstand and his eyes seemed even darker than usual. Was this what thinking of me with another did to him? I broke out of my musings as a finger drove its way inside of me with a single hard push. I cried out and he shoved his tongue down my throat. Licking away every last breath I owned. "That's right," he growled in my ear, licking at the shell. "Moan for me. Show me who you belong to." Another finger roughly joined the first and I strangled out a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. He never went this fast, always gave me time to adjust, always murmuring sweet words in my ears, telling me how beautiful I was. It was never like this.

There were three fingers in me then, pumping in, out, in, out and then nothing and I struggled to rein in the frustrated pleas that were begging to spring forth from my lips. please, please, just take me already. He seemed to sense the battle waging inside of me. He took my hand and coated it in the shiny liquid covering his own fingers. Our fingers intertwined, my hand wrapped around his cock, stroking one, two times. A rough groan tearing out of his throat. "Beg me."

And who was I to refuse. "Please Marcus! Oh, please just take me already! I need you so - so bad," the pleas falling from my lips like rain from the sky.

The hands at my hips were just this side of painful and I knew in that moment that he needed me, that seeing someone trying to talk me into their bed did this to him.


And his hips slammed forward, sheathing himself halfway inside of me. I cried out, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes. He kissed me softly and rocked his hips, inching further into me until he was finally balls deep inside of my body, quaking with the restraint it took to not thrust in further.

Marcus took several slow, deep breaths, hands fisted in the sheets on either side of my head, eyes locked on my own shining hazel ones below him. And slowly he started to pull out and thrust back in. I gasped the fist time he pulled out to the hilt and slid back in, the momentary loss of him inside of me heartbreaking.

My legs wrapped instinctively around him as his thrusts grew more powerful, more animalistic. My ears were filled with the sweet music of his grunts and groans and his hot breath on my face. "Ollie," he moaned, one hand entwining in my hair and the other grasping onto my hip. "Who do you belong to?" another gasping breath. "Please."

Our foreheads were touching and I arched as he hit my sweet spot brutally over and over again. "Marcus," I gasped. "Oh, Marcus, I'm yours. Always. I promise."

And then he was kissing me again with a ferocity I'd never before experienced in the ten months we'd been together. Teeth clashing and tongue fucking me harder than the cock in my arse. My hands, previously clenching his biceps, cupped his face, running through his hair and down his neck and, oh, I could do this forever. Could spend the rest of my life locked in his embrace with nothing by his smooth, scarred skin to warm me.

He suddenly wraps a hand around my aching cock and, oh, this is it. I moan all the louder and he seems to appreciate the gesture for, if even possible, he's slamming into me harder now and I know I'll sport the bruises for days, and in some sick way, that only turns me on more. I'll wear his marks with pride because I'm the only one he touches this way, the only one he trusts enough to share his bed, his heart with.

"Marcus!" I arch and there are lights and fireworks behind my tightly closed eyes. My clenching muscles drive him insane and with one, two, oh three more thrusts he's coming inside of me, his hot come leaking out of my quivering hole. He collapses on top of me. And for a few minutes, all that can be heard in the quiet bedroom are our ragged breaths.

With much effort, Marcus finally rolls us over so I lay on his chest, fingers tracing random patterns on his abs. "Marcus," I breath, tentatively looking up into his face.

"Hmm," he murmurs, opening his eyes which had slid closed in exhaustion.

"You're not still mad at me are you?" I ask, looking down, not able to hold his intense gaze.

"Mad?" he chuckles. "Baby, after a session like that I'm thinking maybe guys should hit on you more often."

"Marcus!" I yell, hitting his chest indignantly. "How can you say that after you were mad at me all night for that stupid guy just talkin' to me?"

Marcus seems to think that over, hands running up and down my back. "Just had to make sure you weren't really interested, that's all," he says, smirking at me. "And after that," he says with a lewd smile, " it's clear you weren't."

"Well, I could have told you that, you git," I mumble into Marcus' chest. "He was the one being all too-friendly, not me."

"Sorry," Marcus says, though he doesn't sound it in the least.

"Yea, well next time rather than fuck my brains out, could we just talk about it like two civilized adults?"

Marcus laughs, he actually laughs. "Actually, babe, I'd really prefer if we just settled all disagreements like this."

"Marcus!" I sit up and hit him with a pillow over the head, though I can't help but really agree.


Please Review. J