Jabberwocky

The leather seating of the train was probably enchanted into being so comfortable during the long ride to school. Flint was sure of that fact, as he read through one of his books while waiting for the train to actually start and get going. People were so freaking slow, it was annoying to have to wait for them to get their shit and get it together. Stupid first years.

Granted, he had been early, wanting to get a good spot on the train, but still, that should have not meant anything. With an annoyed groan he shifted, closing his eyes, putting his feet up on the seat before leaning back into an even more comfortable position. He was in the last car, and it wasn't likely that he'd have to share with anyone...

The door opening ruined all of his hope, and he opened his eyes, ready to tell the bugger off. He never did, eyes locking into the others, while Wood blinked in surprise. The Gryffindor looked ready to turn back and leave, but was stalled when Flint rolled his eyes and called out from his position.

"You wanna sit here? Plenty of room." He knew exactly what prompted him to ask, and why. There were no other Slytherins around to find out, or any other Gryffindors... only his lone Gryffindor. None knew that he had claimed Wood as his own, his fellow housemates thought that it was one of those special bullying cases, his need to torture the younger.

If he had the chance he would love to drag Wood down to the dungeons and have his wicked way. That was his preferred torture, even if he usually ended with just teasing and fist fights.

He smiled at that thought, a smile that became bigger when the brunette gave a long pause and closed the door, sitting across from Flint.

"Ain't many other carts," he explained while his hands twisted nervously, "they booted me from the first I was in for talkin' 'bout Quidditch plays, an' shite." Flint didn't expect a explanation, but chuckled anyway. Ah, that was one of the reasons he liked the other so much, that drive, and those tactics, so Slytherin at times, but without the guilt of cheating. So much perfection!

"Ah. I've been waiting here for awhile, bored as hell, so I don't mind if you want to blab." Flint shrugged and listened in silence as the other did start babbling. He hadn't heard such excitement from  Wood before, even during their fights Wood didn't seem to get so peppy and energized. It was actually rather hot, in his opinion.

And Wood could talk. Bloody hell, he could talk! About players and plays and moves, brooms, specialized robes, and even some very interesting uses for equipment that should have never been thought of. It was an interesting time span that the Slytherin listened to, before he finally realized that the way he was sitting was a sure fire way for Wood to notice how 'happy' the other's voice was making him.  

He faked a yawn as well as a stretch and sat up, crossing his legs just in time to keep from being sat on. Wood had noticed his movement, and before he could open his mouth, a book was shoved in his face.

"See? From what I can tell, the 'Cannons should have used their seeker for more then just the snitch. From these diagrams I found, they could have made it so that the seeker was a distraction, while looking for it!" Wood sat the book down and flipped through it's pages, before stopping where he'd stuffed a sheaf of hand drawn plays and notes.

"What were the chasers doing?" Carefully, Flint asked, watching brown flecked gold eyes light up with fire and... relief, as he flipped through. He wasn't sure what the relief was from, but it was adorable, and he unconsciously licked his lips, fingers tapping a messy line of writing when it came into view.

"I'd jus' read it, but you have the hand writing of a cornish pixie."

Wood's face heated instantly, and he rolled his eyes, seemingly used to his penmanship being prodded at. It was probably something his housemates did, from the reaction.

"Better that no'ne can read it but me. Don' want anyone stealin' from my ideas." He started on another rant about a set of beaters that apparently did that a lot, and Flint ended up tuning the words out in favor of watching Wood scribble down more notes. He nodded and hummed at the right places, but for the most part was silent again.

And he still didn't mind it.

He did, however, mind the pressure between his legs.

It didn't take long for him to become restless, rubbing his legs together in a futile effort to relieve some of it. Ultimately, his actions just made it worse, and in the end he was cursing every deity he could think of as he shifted around. Wood didn't notice, until Flint finally ripped the book from his hands and tossed it onto the other seat.

He shoved the startled Gryffindor back and kissed him with bruising force, one hand buried in brown hair, while the other groped sensitive flesh. Shock registered on Wood's face, melting into something that should have made Flint worried, even if he was too focused on the feeling of the thin form under him.

All muscle and wonderful skin, and... that wasn't a erection suddenly poking into his stomach.

He looked between them, blinking stupidly at the wand that was in a great position to blast him into next holiday, and almost missing what had made him lose control in the first place, Wood speaking.

"Don' throw my books."

That was it, nothing about the kiss, or the fact that he was fairly certain Wood could feel how hard he was from the angle he'd ended up in. Flint blinked again, and then nodded. What did the other think he was, a Ravenclaw? Only Ravenclaws cared about books!

"Alright." The wand was still in place as he instantly agreed to the demand, and he shifted awkwardly when it was tucked back away. Wood's eyes bored into him, cheeks tinged a delicate pink, and when the silence stretched for another few minutes, Flint growled and dove back into finish what he started.

There was a muffled sound of surprise, and belatedly the Slytherin realized that his rival had still been in shock, and that was... probably why he wasn't missing some or all of his testicles.

He didn't rightly care, a small moan rumbling from his throat as Wood opened his mouth and he deepened the kiss into a one sided full out make out session. If it even counted as such... he wasn't sure by that point. However, he was sure that the other had snapped out of his stupor when there was the sudden feeling of his lip being nipped.

"S-" Flint hissed, would-be apology cut off by a strong, wirey arm wrapped around him. It kept him from gaining back what little bit of sense he could find, it, and the fact that Wood was kissing him back.

"Bloody fuck." It was a surprise to hear the curse when they broke for air, even more so when it was followed by Flint's rival wiggling under him in a way that he thought he would only ever get to see in his imagination. As it was, he felt giddy, as if he had won a Quidditch tournament all by himself, and the satisfied smirk that was plastered on his face said it all.

Just like the pleased, but slightly embarrassed look that Wood was wearing, spoke volumes of the other's enjoyment, among other things. It also was something that he would have paid to see.

"How long ago should I have done that?" He questioned lightly, hands busying themselves by mapping out the slender torso beneath him. The touch helped him keep his control and not just return to senseless kissing. Which, it would have been preferable, but he wasn't about to press his luck.

"... 'M not answerin' such a stupid Slytherin question." Wood grumbled, a bark of laughter ruining his insult and making it seem that much more childish.

Neither had noticed the tension until it was gone, evaporated like the mists that blew off the lake at Hogwarts. He wasn't even sure if there was an answer to the question, but heat traveling up his spine and back down to his still very turned on cock made him unable to care. He wanted Wood, in any way he could get, but was smart enough not to push and ruin it all.

Because contrary to popular belief, Slytherins weren't typically stupid or evil, just normal, and just as prone to do bad things as any other.

Flint rolled his eyes, letting it roll off of him just like anything else. He was far more interested in seeing what was under the robes of the other, listening to that wonderful accented voice, then what was actually being said to him. Something about being beaten to death with a broom? The older of the two snickered, and silenced any more threats by sucking on the very nice bared neck that was in reach.

There was a hitch in that voice, and he moaned, hips rocking into Wood's with mindless abandon.

He couldn't wait to get rid those stupid robes in his way, taste and touch, and feel, just as he'd imagined throughout the whole of their rivalry. And he could feel that the Gryffindor wanted it too, wanted to use that sexual tension they built up through so many years of fighting to make nice, wonderful...

The horrid squeal of brakes latching onto tracks, and the train slowing to a stop left Flint ready to hurt something or someone, preferably someone who deserved it. He slowly shifted into a better position, taking in the appearance of his rival with bitter sweet thoughts.

It was adorable to see, but fuck, it sucked that he couldn't take the time to enjoy the disheveled and wrinkled appearance.

And he was still horny!

They straightened up, and as people started filing out into the station, Wood coughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"How in the bloody hell is this going to work?"

"Who knows? We'll figure it out." All of Flint's annoyance melted away as his mind went into overdrive. There were so many places he could corner Wood, so many places to hide and do as they wished, to start fights that could end very, very nicely.

He smirked and grabbed the front of the Gryffindor's robes, kissing him brutally and possessively.

Many minutes of heated gropes later they were filing out and greeting old friends, sharing glances that to the rest probably looked like glares and evil eyes. Flint laughed when someone nudged him and mentioned the 'glares', recanting a false tale about Wood and himself fighting again.

Stepping into the great hall, he didn't miss the knowing look and wink that Dumbledor shot his way, smiling and nodding shortly back. Ah right, probably more enchantments from that stupid train... not that he could really complain.

It just meant that he would be able to sneak out easier, something that made his smile widen even more.

All that was left was getting rid of the pesky hard on that was plaguing him, but that was a different matter altogether.