Seeker

Title: Seeker
Gift for: glockgal
Pairing: Harry/Oliver
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Chan, Coercion
Summary: Oliver abuses his power as team captain.
Author’s Notes: A big thanks goes to the gurks for the betaing and such. This was something really different for me, but I enjoyed it immensely. Written for glockgal for merry_smutmas on lj.

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Oliver watched attentively as the young Seeker entered the Gryffindor locker room. The small frail form shrouded in red robes and leather Quidditch pads sauntered - the best an awkward eleven year old could saunter - up to his locker. His dark hair was mussed, giving off a fuck me vibe:at sat soaked and brushing across his forehead, almost covering his lightening shaped scar and sticking to the frames of his glasses.

Oliver grew hard, his erection pressing against the towel draped about his waist as he watched the young boy struggle to open his locker. Sidling up to the first year, Oliver pushed aside the boy’s hand. “Allow me, Harry,” he said, opening the locker with ease.

“Thanks, Oliver,” Harry said, grinning keenly at the older boy.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling warmly, his eyes glinting lustfully as they skimmed across Harry’s body.

“Good game today,” Harry said eagerly. “That save you made, right there at the end, was brilliant.”

Oliver raised his eyebrow, looking skeptically at Harry. The young Gryffindor’s smile did not falter, his eyes shining with admiration. “It should have been better,” Oliver began coldly. “We played Hufflepuff, we should have beat them in about half the time.”

Harry’s smile waned slightly at the bitter tone. “But we won,” he said eagerly.

“The point is you could have done better, Harry. You’re a shite Seeker if you think that what you did today is going to cut it,” he said, leaning in closer to the other boy.

Harry gritted his teeth, barely holding back a scowl, spitting out, “I’ll try harder next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Oliver said, his eyes burning maliciously.

“What? Why not?” Harry snapped, throwing back his shoulders in an attempt to appear bigger than he was. He rose up on the balls of his feet, eyes narrowing and his lips pulled back into a scowl. “I did a good job today. I deserve to play.”

“You don’t,” Oliver stated matter-of-factly.

“I do!” Harry said, poking Oliver in the chest. “And.” Poke. “I’ll.” Poke. “Prove.” Poke. “It.” Poke. “To.” Poke. “You!” Poke.

Oliver raised his eyebrow and stared placidly at Harry. “Blow me.”

Harry looked at him disgustedly.

“Blow me,” Oliver demanded, dropping his towel, “else I’ll tell McGonagall we need a new seeker.”

Harry seethed, mouth gaping open slightly, his eyes giving the older –and naked, Harry thought- boy an once-over.

“That’s a start,” Oliver said, grinning wickedly. “On your knees, Potter.”

“No,” Harry said, turning to leave.

Oliver grabbed the boy by the arm and slammed him against the locker, pressing his weight against him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry spat in Oliver’s face. The older boy wiped the saliva off with his hand and smeared it on Harry’s robes, before grabbing Harry by the chin. “You’ll listen to me, or you’ll find yourself without a position on the team,” he said before pulling the first year into a brutal kiss; his teeth tearing and biting at Harry’s lower lip.

Pulling away from both Harry and the kiss, Oliver said once more, “On your knees, Potter.”

Harry nodded and gulped before slowly sinking to his knees, his feet and back pushed against the row of lockers as Oliver advanced on him, cock hard and waiting, pushing against Harry’s lips. “Now,” the older boy said, “unless you want to spend the rest of your seven years watching the games from the stands.”

Harry parted his lips, his tongue slowly pushing forward past his lips, making contact with Oliver’s cock, the salty pre-cum tainting his tongue. Oliver thrust forward, his erection sliding over Harry’s tongue and into his mouth.

Harry gagged slightly at the taste and intrusion. Oliver pulled back somewhat, his hand reng dng down and rubbing at Harry’s jaw, trying to relax the muscles and open the small boy’s mouth. As Harry’s mouth opened wider, Oliver thrust back in, relishing the feel of Harry’s tongue against his cock.

Harry slowly cl his his mouth around Oliver’s erection, the warm wetness of his mouth causing the older boy to moan. He gradually pulled back, his hand sliding up to grasp the base of Oliver’s shaft before taking the cock back into his mouth. He began a rhythm of in and out, increasing his ministrations at a leisurely pace.

Harry swirled and rolled his tongue as he slid his mouth up and down the older boy’s cock, repeating actions that elicited a response from Oliver. He lightly grazed his teeth along the sensitive skin and Oliver thrust hard into his mouth, throwing back his head. Harry felt the semen hit the back of his throat and gagged slightly.

Harry pulled away, swallowing the semen as best he could, a little of it dribbling past his lips and down his chin. His tongue darting out to catch it, hoping that the older boy wouldn’t have noticed. He then looked up at the Keeper waiting for approval.

Pleasure blazed through Oliver’s eyes. “That was shite, Potter,” Oliver said. “One would think you haven’t ever done that before.”

“I… I haven’t,” Harry stammered.

“I thought you were going to prove to me that you deserve to play on the team. You haven’t,” Oliver said callously.

Harry gave a slight whimper before rising to his feet, looking up at the other boy. “Let me prove myself,” he pleaded.

Oliver quirked his eyebrow, smirking, “You think you can prove yourself, Potter? How?”

Harry nodded, “I’ll… I’ll let you….”

“Let me what?” he demanded, pushing the young seeker back against the lockers. “Let me have my way with you?”

Harry nodded, biting his lip nervously.

Oliver frowned, “And what makes you think I want that?”

Harry reached down and grasped Oliver’s hardening cock, giving it a few strokes. “This,” he said.

Oliver gave a slight gasp at the feel of the small leather-clad hand upon his erection: the soft fingers screaming innocence and inexperience and were not yet calloused from riding his broom. “You’re catching on, Potter. There might be some hope for you yet.”

He pulled down the boy’s trousers, exposing a light dusting of hair surrounding a rigid cock, one that was smaller than his own. Harry’s trousers fell to his knee guards and Oliver leaned in for a kiss. He could taste himself in every last centimeter of Harry’s mouth.

Oliver jerked his hips forward, Harry’s hand still grasping him, until their erections pressed against each other. Harry let out a slight moan as his skin made contact with leather and skin that was not his own. He thrust forward somewhat, gasping into Oliver’s mouth.

Oliver pulled back from the kiss reacreached into his locker, grabbing his wand. He quickly turned Harry to face the lockers, holding him against them with one hand, while the other guided his wand to Harry’s entrance. He murmured a charm and Harry felt a cool slickness form inside him. He made a little gaspy noise as the wand was replaced with Oliver’s fingers and writhed as they probed inside him, stretching him.

Oliver grinned and leaned forward, whispering into the young boy’s ear, “Do a good job, and you’ll stay Seeker.”

Harry nodded, biting his lip and letting out a whimper as Oliver withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the head of his cock. The older boy gradually slid into the younger boy, his hand reaching around and grasping Harry’s cock. It felt small in his hands and the soft hair tickled against his skin. He began stroking as he pulled out and thrust back in.

Harry let out a moan at the feeling of the older boy, the captain of the Quidditch team, thrusting in and out of him. Oliver groaned in pleasure as the tight ring of muscle clenched around him and he began to increase the speed of his ministrations.

Harry, his face pressed against the metal locker door, met Oliver with eager thrusts of his own. As the older boy leaned against him, Harry pressed more of himself against the cool of the metal lockers; a stark contrast to the scorching heat pressing onto and into him.

Oliver’s hand - which was still gripping his wand - fisted into Harry’s robes, holding the young boy to him as he slammed his hips forward. He rocked into the boy, harder and harder, until Harry was teetering on his tiptoes, struggling to match the force of Oliver’s thrusts. Harry’s small hands sought for purchase, scrabbling desperately against the lockers for something to cling to. Harsh grunts echoed in his ears, keeping with the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh.

The slick feel of Oliver’s cock pumping in and out of him was intoxicating: pressure and friction reaching a boiling point as the older boy’s hand ntlentlessly stroked and squeezed his cock. Harry’s body suddenly jerked as a wave of sensation washed over him. He came, gasping, into Oliver’s hand.

The older boy shuddered and continued to thrust in quick shallow jabs as Harry’s muscles convulsed around his cock. With a final groan he released himself and fell forward, panting into Harry’s ear and crushing him against the lockers, riding out the last spasms of orgasm.

After a few moments, the hot breath that had been tickling the back of his neck ceased as Oliver slipped out of him and backed away, leaving a cold, empty vacuum in his wake. He turned and leaned against the lockers for support, grimacing at the warm stickiness sliding down between his trembling thighs.

Oliver sneered at the mess on his hand and wiped it down the front of Harry’s robes. He gave the younger boy a calculating glance, taking in the flushed appearance, trying to discern his next move.

Emerald green eyes burned up at him, pupils dilated with sated lust, the small, clothed chest rising up and down as the young boy tried to catch his breath. Oliver leered down at the boy, putting his wand back into his locker and closing and locking it. He grabbed his towel and began to walk off to the showers, turning around once more to look at Harry. “Congratulations,” he said, still leering, “you’ve proved yourself. You keep your position.”

Harry nodded and stared dazedly as Oliver walked back to the showers. After a moment, he quickly shed his Quidditch gear and robes, shoving them haphazardly into his locker. He slammed the door shut, grabbed a towel and joined his captain in the showers.

~Fin~