Strange-Eyed Constellation, Post 2
Jun. 16th, 2007 07:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneTitle: Strange-Eyed Constellation
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."
Previous Post:
Part 1
"Shay!" Dean's voice sounded faintly from inside the flat. "D'you mind rubbing at my upper back? I still feel as though I've been attacked by Bludgers."
"No worries," Seamus called from the porch where he was watering the fledgling Emmalexis shrubs Neville had given them a while back. The black thumb he'd thought he'd had from his Hogwarts days seemed to have transformed, and the waxy, aubergine leaves twisted happily as he threaded his fingers through the plant.
He deposited the watering can in the kitchen and glanced into the living room, but Dean wasn't there. Wandering into the corridor, he did a doubletake when he saw that Dean was sitting on his own bed, one of his Braille books in his lap.
"Did ye get lost?" Seamus joked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. It took tremendous self-control on Seamus' part to force down his desire to sprawl out on top of him. Dean sat contentedly against Seamus' riot of pillows wearing nothing but long shorts. They'd been in a days-long hot spell, and neither of them cared much for Muggle air conditioning. Spending as much time as he did around Dean in myriad stages of undress was both fueling and abusing his libido, especially since Dean's accident a few days prior.
"No. Your pillows are softer," Dean said petulantly. "Sit behind me, will you? Your hands are better than any magic, and I'm not just saying that to inflate your large head."
Seamus made a derisive noise while climbing up on the bed and shoving Dean in the shoulder. "Ye'd best be careful what you say if you're going to stay in my good graces. Or you can find someone else to rub you down, you ungrateful git."
"Hmmph," Dean said with a smile.
Seamus allowed himself the luxury of fixating on Dean's left dimple for a moment longer than necessary before situating himself behind Dean. He arranged Dean so that he was close, but not temptingly cushioned against the vee of his legs.
"Spoil ye rotten, I do," he said, placing his hands atop Dean's broad shoulder blades and beginning to massage deep into the muscles there.
"Yeah, well, suppose I deserve it," Dean rumbled, relaxing back against Seamus in a way that made him overly conscious of his now-interested cock. The last thing Dean needed to know was the physical affect he had on Seamus, so he tried willing his thoughts away from the proximity of Dean's arse to his groin.
"Ye don't deserve me," Seamus said, his voice light as he tended to the few knots he found in Dean's upper back and neck. He allowed his fingers innocently to infuse the deep affection that he wished he could demonstrate in far more intimate ways.
There was silence for a while, and a shift of timbre to the room which made Seamus uncomfortable. "That was a joke, y'know," he said across the ridge of Dean's shoulder.
Quiet continued to permeate the room, adding heaviness to the already dense summer air. Dean let out a low sigh, sinking back fully against Seamus' chest, letting his head fall against the crook of Seamus' neck. The heat of Dean's skin and the secure weight of him against Seamus' body from groin to jaw was dizzying; Seamus grasped Dean's upper arms, stilling his fingers against the wiry biceps in a failing attempt to prevent his traitorous body from reacting in a way that Dean would notice.
"I know," Dean said, his voice harbouring what seemed to be a distressing resignation. "I really don't deserve you."
Seamus' heartbeat stumbled in his chest. "What?" he asked cautiously, half-expecting Dean to go back to their usual banter and make Seamus take the piss for believing him.
"Can I be honest? Oh, fuck," Dean said, exasperated. "If I can't talk to you, who else've I got?"
"Of course you can talk honestly with me!" Seamus insisted, shifting and pushing Dean forward as though to move so they were face to face.
"No— stay there, if you don't mind," Dean said quickly, scooting back so he was solidly entrenched in the vee of Seamus' pelvis.
Seamus winced, knowing Dean must be able to feel the pressure of his thickened, but thankfully not erect cock. Maybe Dean would joke about it and move on. He put his hands down on his thighs, though he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around Dean's waist.
Dean took a deep breath. "Look. I just need to say a few things, right? So don't interrupt until you've heard me out."
"All right."
"Well, can I ask you a question first?"
"'Course."
"Do you really perve on my arse?"
"What?!" Seamus said, flustered and slightly pissed off that Dean was bringing something like that up when obviously this was a serious conversation about… something. "You're me best mate. Ye know I look at guys' arses, but—"
Seamus stopped talking before he let on just how guilty he felt about being able to admire Dean's long, wiry body without him knowing.
Dean nodded slowly, and his shoulders slumped so he curved even more against Seamus.
"Well, I know I'm nothing like Fred. But Shay, he treated you like shit. You deserve so much better than that, and I know you're sick of me saying so."
"I don't follow—"
"Well, it's just that I'd kind of hoped maybe you did, genuinely think I was appealing. I'm probably not your type, and Merlin knows we've joked about this for long enough that you'd never believe me, and, well…"
Dean eased his arms underneath Seamus', bringing them together across the lean muscle of his chest.
"I don't know what it means," Dean went on, "but I've been dreaming about you. Heaps. It's your voice, maybe, or the feel of your fingers and how you're always considerate to let me know where you are so I don't stumble over you… We have sex in my dreams, Shay. I know I can't see you now, not anymore, but when I dream I'm doing, well, we're doing all sorts of really fantastic things and your face— you look so amazing, so happy, and I'm the one who touches you, and you make these unbelievable noises…"
He huffed a quiet, pathetic laugh.
Seamus' pulse roared like the ocean. He'd been a bit lost at the mention of Fred, as he'd never thought to compare his former lover to Dean, except that Dean revered him and Fred, after professing all kinds of devotion, had turned out to be an asinine prick. But Dean— Dean was dreaming about them shagging. His Dean might not fancy just birds?
"How long've you been dreamin' about me? About us? That?" Seamus asked, propping his chin on Dean's shoulder, allowing his hands to curl Dean's fingers closer in against the soft skin of his stomach.
"Since that freakish snow, back in April. You're not… offended? Well, you're not laughing, either." Dean's voice was drenched in uncertainty.
The initial shock of Dean's confession had begun to wear off, though the heated flash and tingling in Seamus' skin seemed to radiate from him. Bloody hell, he wanted to just show Dean how fucking unbelievably brilliant he thought it was that Dean fancied him, in a way that he'd not allowed himself to hope for.
"I don't know about any other blokes, Shay," Dean said softly. "But you— I can't stop imagining what you feel like, but it's not some passing thing. I'd never be as cruel as Fred was, even though I know I've not been the best boyfriend to anyone in the past, and I get moody as hell, but you already know that, gods…"
Seamus' mind was a dervish; years of their friendship, of fraternity and laughter, of occasional fights and desperate prayers to any deity who would listen to keep Dean safe during the War— they spun crazily, knocking him off-kilter into this new, unpredicted reality. Seamus let out a breath he'd not realised he'd been holding as Dean cautiously pulled their joined left hands down on top of a prominent bulge in his trackshorts.
"Oh fuck," Seamus whispered.
"You do this to me," Dean said helplessly. "I hope I've not bollixed everything up between us, but I thought I'd go batshite if I didn't say something. I mean, for fuck's sake, I was finishing a really great wank thinking about you when I slipped so spectacularly in the tub. Not that I was going to tell that to any Healer, especially Ron."
Seamus let out a strangled laugh, his fingers rapaciously fondling their new steely prize.
"'S not funny," Dean muttered, though Seamus could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.
"Dean. Shut up for a minute," Seamus insisted, desperate to tell him that he'd not messed things up in any way at all. "I've got to have me say, quickly, before I fucking explode, and then you're going to let me show you just how fucking much I adore you and want to feel whatever it is ye've been dreaming about."
Dean moaned and nodded his head. Seamus slowly rubbed up and down the enticing length under the soft fabric of Dean's shorts. He'd never been more grateful for wearing boxers as his own cock practically leapt against the small of Dean's back.
"I've had thoughts for you off and on, but ye knew that. I knew you liked birds and I was okay with that, too. Things were better that way, I s'pose; better than thinking of you off with some guy. But I didn't know ye'd even considered blokes, or me. I'd hoped you might, but never expected it. You're me very best friend, Dean," he said, his other hand having slid up past the baggy shorts to reverently caress the soft, thin skin of Dean's sacs. "Yes, I've really perved on your arse. Ye're handsome, mate. Fucking beautiful," he murmured, nearly swooning with the warm, cloveish Dean scent that filled his senses. "I don't want to be just an experiment to you, though. Don't think I'd do well with that. You know I'm possessive, and I carry grudges forever."
"Not an experiment," Dean said, his husky voice settling on Seamus like buttery leather. "Like I said, I've not known what to think. It's not about blokes, generally; it's about you. I just wish I could see you." He paused and Seamus stilled his hands, uncertain how to explain that it didn't matter that Dean was blind. Evidently Dean's imagination seemed quite healthy; though he'd always been frighteningly able to intuit Seamus' moods simply by looking at him, that hadn't stopped since he'd lost his sight.
"I wish you could, too," Seamus rumbled, removing his right hand from Dean's groin so he could cradle his jaw. He turned Dean's head enough so he could speak against the corner of Dean's parted lips. "But you'll feel me, instead."
Dean's indistinct but needy groan made Seamus want to shed his skin and simply slide into him, tongues, fingers, cocks, all blended into one throbbing, fantastic being.
"Have to kiss ye, now. Have to know how you taste and feel and… ach, shove over!"
A low laugh tumbled out of Dean's mouth as Seamus edged out from behind him. He shoved down his shorts and boxers and kicked them to the floor, telling Dean what he was doing and that he'd bloody well do the same. Then there was nothing but his body pressed into Dean's; miles of Dean's corded muscle and sable skin to be ravished and explored, but only after Seamus at last had kissed him fully on the lips. Seamus reckoned that the thundering in his chest was loud enough to wake their neighbours, but he didn't care. Dean was making delicious moaning noises, his slick tongue sliding along Seamus' lips as Seamus plundered the roasting wet of Dean's mouth. Thankfully their noticeable difference in height was mostly in the length of their legs; Seamus could rock into Dean's groin, whimpering shamelessly at the friction of their cocks pushing against each other. He intertwined their fingers, their mutual hold seamless and solid.
Unbidden, a physical memory of lying astride Fred, of their more similar statures and Fred's brawn flared on his skin. The heady scent of beer and candied ginger that Dean loved to snack on overcame the older remembrance, for which Seamus was grateful. He pulled away from Dean's mouth, panting.
"I've got to taste you, okay?" he pleaded, thrusting his erection against the flat plane of Dean's pelvis. He stared into the opalescence of Dean's eyes, remembering the gorgeous chocolaty colour they'd been, the amber flecks that had radiated from his pupils. Gods, but he wished Dean could see him, see the flush and desperation that Seamus was sure was stamped on his face.
"Taste me where?" Dean gasped, disengaging his hands so he could run them down Seamus' back to knead at his arse.
"Everywhere. Ach, I love your hands on me," Seamus sighed, wriggling closer to Dean and holding his sweat-glistening face in his palms. "Mostly I want your cock in my mouth. Want ye like that, want to suck you 'til you're hoarse from yelling," he said throatily before devouring Dean's mouth, humming into his lips as he kissed him before sliding down Dean's torso.
"Gods, Shay, your mouth— wish I'd told you how I felt sooner, you feel incredibleaaaaaaaah!"
Dean's babblings were silenced as Seamus licked around the purpled crown of his cock, peeking out from its sheltering skin. Closing his eyes, Seamus swallowed as much of the long, slender cock as he could. He grinned around the slick pole when Dean arched off the bed, shouting colourful invectives and praise. As Seamus set to his task, Dean clenched his arse, the indents providing an anchor for Seamus' fingers. Musk wafted enticingly up to him as Seamus suckled and occasionally scraped carefully with his teeth. He loved giving head; adored the feel of papery skin over hard length, savoured each unique tangy flavour, his senses filled to bursting with undeniably male scents as the hot flesh slid in and out of his mouth. He listened carefully to Dean's whimpers and rumbling groans of pleasure, changing his speed or intensity so Dean didn't come to his release too soon.
"Shay," Dean sighed, his fingers scrabbling at Seamus' unruly hair. "Shay? I want to taste you too. Come up here, please," he begged, tugging at Seamus' head.
"'m I not making you feel good?" Seamus asked, his feelings slightly hurt. His own neglected cock throbbed, and he squatted back on his heels, stroking himself.
"'Course you are! You're not the very first to do that for me, but Merlin, you're amazing," Dean reassured him, easing up onto his elbows. "But I've never even really seen your, well…"
"My cock, Dean. It's quite attractive. Had no complaints," Seamus joked.
"I don't doubt," Dean said, grinning and shaking his hips slightly. "But I've not felt you in my hands, not had your dick in my mouth. I don't know that I'll be any good at it at all," he admitted plaintively, one arm reaching out for Seamus.
Seamus knee-walked along the outside of Dean's legs and torso, guiding Dean's hand on his thigh as he drew closer. Seamus felt his whole body flushed with desire, his skin taut with the effort of containing his passionate joy. His heart was giddy, cavorting over itself now that he and Dean were together like this, naked and aroused. Their bodies were new canvases to paint with kisses and covetous fingers. He held the base of his cock with one hand, the other grasping Dean's shoulder for balance as all the blood in his body seemed to have lodged resolutely in his prick. When Dean sent out his tongue to swirl around the head of Seamus' cock, he shuddered with pleasure. Dean closed his eyes, lapping and teasing with his tongue until Seamus pushed his hips forward.
"Holy fuck," Seamus moaned, watching his shaft thrust in and out between Dean's lush lips. Dean was rather timid in his treatment, but it didn't matter, not right now. Technique could come later. "I think you're a natural," he murmured, moving his hand from Dean's shoulder to cradle the back of his head.
Dean pulled back with a long lick to the sensitive underside of Seamus' prick, slowly opening his unseeing eyes. "I snuck a few looks as those poufter mags you barely hid back in school, y'know," he said, his roughened voice the sexiest noise Seamus had heard in months. When Dean nuzzled the side of his face against Seamus' bobbing cock in a tender, intimate gesture, his legs trembled. "There was one picture I could never get out of my head, even though I thought I only wanted to get into girls' knickers."
"What was it?" Seamus croaked. He cleared his throat while letting the crown of his cock graze across Dean's puffy lips.
"Two blokes, lying side by side, both of them doing this to each other. At the same time," he said reverently.
Seamus' eyes grew wide and a wicked grin settled on his mouth. "You want to go at it, sixty-nine? You pervy bastard." He snickered, sitting backward so that he could snatch another barrage of nipped kisses from Dean's glistening lips. "I think I've always loved ye, but now you've stolen my heart."
When Dean sat still, an icicle of fear frissoned down Seamus' spine. He'd not been joking, but surely that wasn't really an unexpected thing to say… hadn't Dean's earlier admission meant that he felt at least something akin to what Seamus did, beyond friends?
"You do?" Dean shifted, placing a hand at the small of Seamus' back. "That's, well…" He stretched out his legs, putting his other hand around to fan out on the lower knuckles of Seamus' backbone. "You're a brave man, Seamus Finnigan."
"That, or just bloody sentimental," Seamus said, unable to stop speaking exactly what was on his mind. He dropped his head so that their foreheads touched. "Let's forget what I said and get back to the really brilliant—"
"Shay." Dean's awestruck voice commanded Seamus' attention. "You're brave for wanting to be with me. I'm not exactly low-maintenance, though Merlin knows I try to be. I trust you with everything, and I want to get to know every part of you. Outside and in."
Seamus' desire to meld into Dean surged back with a vengeance. He rubbed his cheek against the side of Dean's face, closing his eyes at the thrill of feeling Dean's stubble scraping gently against his skin.
"So how about I turn around and you get propped up on these monstrous pillows 'o mine, and we'll fulfill this long-standing fantasy of yours, right?"
Dean beamed at him before kissing him soundly and getting situated. Acute yearning bruised itself on Seamus as he manouevered himself into what was actually a rather awkward position. He'd really not given Dean's recent blindness that much thought, once they'd figured out that the damage was irreversible. Dean was still Dean, and Seamus had a sense that was part of why they continued to get on so well, because he didn't treat his best friend any differently than before. But this — being naked and snogging and sucking each other off and hopefully shagging, too — it seemed wretchedly unfair that Dean had only his mind's eye from his dreams to guess at the look on Seamus' face when he came. Not that Seamus even knew what that looked like, or the moony, adoring expression he knew sometimes settled on his face. Or so he'd been told.
Once he and Dean found a stilted but enthusiastic rhythm for their mutual fellatio, all esoteric thoughts were banished from Seamus' mind. There was only the new and delicious sensation of Dean's firm prick in his mouth, the amazing slurping sounds and humming that Dean made while doing the same to Seamus' aching cock, and the vaguely spicy musk scent that made Seamus' pulse race. He couldn't really concentrate on what all Dean was doing with his tongue because he was so focussed on bringing Dean his own pleasure; Seamus had found that an unfortunate but irrefutable problem to sex like this, but since Dean had seemed so keen on it, he'd been happy to go along. He redoubled his efforts, oddly gratified when Dean let Seamus' prick slip out of his mouth.
"Shay… oh gods, Shay, ohhhhh…" he moaned, the broken, unguarded noise heralding his release. Seamus swallowed the vinegarsweet fluid, keeping his lips moving slowly on Dean's shaft until he choked out a sound of distress.
"Too sensitive, oh fuck, you're amazing. Come up here, please?" he said imploringly.
After wiping his lips with the back of his hand and ghosting a kiss at the hollow above Dean's thigh, Seamus turned back around to lie in Dean's welcoming arms.
"Like that?" Seamus asked, pressing his still-hard erection against Dean's hip.
"Un-fucking-believable." Dean shook his head slowly. "I'm boneless. But I've not taken care of you."
Tilting his head back, Seamus slid an open-mouthed kiss down Dean's jaw to his chin. "Ye've got great skills with that left hand of yours. Budge down and lie next to me. I won't be going soft anytime soon."
Dean snorted, and rearranged their bodies so he could take Seamus in hand. Not one to be ashamed about such things, Seamus told him exactly what felt good to him, how he liked to be stroked slowly, and to hold tighter while sliding up, and to run his thumb over the head.
"Bit faster, oh, fuck, just like that…." Seamus' orgasm roiled through him with such intensity that his toes cramped up, his feet arching inward like talons. He panted loudly through the aftershocks, eventually prying off the hand that'd been grasped to the headboard so he could turn and drape his arm over Dean's side.
"You sound really sexy when you come," Dean murmured, sliding down the bed so they were face to face. He gently let go of Seamus' softening cock, holding his ejaculate-covered fingers up to his nose and mouth before licking off some of the pungent fluid. Seamus couldn't stifle a whimper when Dean closed his eyes, smearing a thin layer of come on his mouth and mashing his lips together.
"Don't taste bad, either," Dean said, his expression thoughtful. "Bit saltier than mine. Think I could get quite used to it."
"You're really okay with this? Being with me, just cocks and arse and no soft jiggly bits?" Seamus said half-teasingly, rubbing his sweaty forehead against a pillowcase while Dean wiped his hand on his thigh.
"Well, you know I've no other men to compare you to, and I really don't get all that hot and bothered thinking about other men's bodies. But you," he slid his arm around Seamus' back to pull him in close enough that they breathed the same hot air, "you're who I want to be with. We're still going to be okay around each other, right?"
"What do ye mean? Of course we are!" Seamus insisted. "You'll still throw a fit if I forget to put in a new roll of loo paper when we're nearly out, and I'll trip over your stacks of books in the living room and swear at you, and we'll do the crossword like we do every morning, and we'll have mid-afternoon tea or beer together like we do every afternoon, and it'll be just like always. But better," he said softly.
The late afternoon sun bathed the room in tawny light, a hazy stream from the window highlighting the contrast of Seamus' freckled leg sprawled over Dean's dark, lean thigh.
"Better sounds pretty unreal," Dean said, closing his eyes and blowing upwards to dry some of the sweat from his face. "Where'll we sleep? At night, I mean?"
Seamus eased out from under Dean's arm, muttering about a low-grade wind charm which he cast once he found his wand. "I don't know." Seamus crawled back onto his bed, stretching out on his back as Dean had decided to sit upright again. "Suppose we can alternate our rooms. I mean, ye're not wanting to move to just a one-room place, are you? I thought you were comfortable here in this flat. That bloody cat that keeps lurking around the flat block wants to adopt you. Who'd feed it if we left?"
Dean's lips turned down and with uncanny ability, he pinched Seamus' left nipple.
"Ow! Fuck!" Seamus swore, rubbing at his abused skin.
"I don't want to move, you arse. I just, well, if we're lovers now, or boyfriends…" There was a fleeting look of distaste on Dean's face before he continued on. "Nothing against Harry and Ron, or anybody else like that who's a pair, but I hate that term."
"Like that?" Seamus chortled. "What do you think ye are?"
Dean seemed to turn inward, his brows furrowing and intertwining his fingers so that they were inverted toward the ceiling.
"Fuck, mate, that's not what I meant to say," Seamus said, backpedaling and wishing he'd not sounded like a total prick. Dean had said he didn't think he was into men as a general manner of taste. And yet here Seamus was, not ten minutes after being the first man Dean had ever been physically involved with, his best mate, and putting his foot in it.
"No, I know, Shay. It's just not that obvious to me. I've been really attracted to girls, and then there's you. You're what feels right. But we're equal, y'know? Being thought of as a boyfriend just makes me ill."
"You can just tell people I'm your willing sex slave," Seamus offered, trying to bring back some humour to their conversation. "Or hell, why do we have to be like other couples, anyway? We're us. Don't have to be all in the face of the Prophet just because some of their editors are fucking homophobes; Ron and Harry do that already. Ye're Dean, I'm Seamus, we're best mates, always have been."
"But now we don't have to cast silencing spells on our rooms and wank alone," Dean said, a warm smile blooming on his lips. "Just don't go and getting all romantic and sentimental on me."
"Me? What makes you think I'd do something daft like that?" Seamus harrumphed, crossing his arms on his chest. "I may give you blow jobs that leave you absolutely shattered, but that doesn't mean I'm going to start writing you crap poetry and buying you flowers. I'm queer, not a bloody girl."
"I know. Reckon that's why I think this is the best thing that's ever happened," Dean said, his voice unexpectedly thick.
Seamus turned his head, uncrossing his arms and getting up onto his elbows. "Ye do?"
"Yeah. I want to be the best for you. I know you've had your feelings pretty messed up before, but I promise I won't do anything like that on purpose. You deserve better. And I…"
Dean paused, as though wary of the words he wanted to say.
"I'm yours, Seamus. I don't know how else to say it."
Seamus breathed deeply of the air of trust, nodding his head, though Dean couldn't see it. "I think I know what you mean." He leaned over to kiss Dean's chest above his heart. "Thank you."
..:~TBC~:..
Pairing(s): Past Fred/Seamus, Seamus/Dean, eventual Fred/Seamus/Dean, Ron/Harry
Rating: This chapter NC-17
Summary: War can make strange bedfellows; peacetime allows kindred spirits to join together. Seamus discovers both, and in being true to the baffling desires of his heart, believes that love needn't come exclusively in pairs.
A/N: my thanks to
auntee_mame for the written beta; exceeding gratitude to wolfiekins and callumjames for letting me read aloud and giving me insightful feedback while I write this; also for their enthusiasm over what's certainly a rare trio. The title comes from Thomas Hardy's poem "Drummer Hodge."Previous Post:
Part 1
"Shay!" Dean's voice sounded faintly from inside the flat. "D'you mind rubbing at my upper back? I still feel as though I've been attacked by Bludgers."
"No worries," Seamus called from the porch where he was watering the fledgling Emmalexis shrubs Neville had given them a while back. The black thumb he'd thought he'd had from his Hogwarts days seemed to have transformed, and the waxy, aubergine leaves twisted happily as he threaded his fingers through the plant.
He deposited the watering can in the kitchen and glanced into the living room, but Dean wasn't there. Wandering into the corridor, he did a doubletake when he saw that Dean was sitting on his own bed, one of his Braille books in his lap.
"Did ye get lost?" Seamus joked, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. It took tremendous self-control on Seamus' part to force down his desire to sprawl out on top of him. Dean sat contentedly against Seamus' riot of pillows wearing nothing but long shorts. They'd been in a days-long hot spell, and neither of them cared much for Muggle air conditioning. Spending as much time as he did around Dean in myriad stages of undress was both fueling and abusing his libido, especially since Dean's accident a few days prior.
"No. Your pillows are softer," Dean said petulantly. "Sit behind me, will you? Your hands are better than any magic, and I'm not just saying that to inflate your large head."
Seamus made a derisive noise while climbing up on the bed and shoving Dean in the shoulder. "Ye'd best be careful what you say if you're going to stay in my good graces. Or you can find someone else to rub you down, you ungrateful git."
"Hmmph," Dean said with a smile.
Seamus allowed himself the luxury of fixating on Dean's left dimple for a moment longer than necessary before situating himself behind Dean. He arranged Dean so that he was close, but not temptingly cushioned against the vee of his legs.
"Spoil ye rotten, I do," he said, placing his hands atop Dean's broad shoulder blades and beginning to massage deep into the muscles there.
"Yeah, well, suppose I deserve it," Dean rumbled, relaxing back against Seamus in a way that made him overly conscious of his now-interested cock. The last thing Dean needed to know was the physical affect he had on Seamus, so he tried willing his thoughts away from the proximity of Dean's arse to his groin.
"Ye don't deserve me," Seamus said, his voice light as he tended to the few knots he found in Dean's upper back and neck. He allowed his fingers innocently to infuse the deep affection that he wished he could demonstrate in far more intimate ways.
There was silence for a while, and a shift of timbre to the room which made Seamus uncomfortable. "That was a joke, y'know," he said across the ridge of Dean's shoulder.
Quiet continued to permeate the room, adding heaviness to the already dense summer air. Dean let out a low sigh, sinking back fully against Seamus' chest, letting his head fall against the crook of Seamus' neck. The heat of Dean's skin and the secure weight of him against Seamus' body from groin to jaw was dizzying; Seamus grasped Dean's upper arms, stilling his fingers against the wiry biceps in a failing attempt to prevent his traitorous body from reacting in a way that Dean would notice.
"I know," Dean said, his voice harbouring what seemed to be a distressing resignation. "I really don't deserve you."
Seamus' heartbeat stumbled in his chest. "What?" he asked cautiously, half-expecting Dean to go back to their usual banter and make Seamus take the piss for believing him.
"Can I be honest? Oh, fuck," Dean said, exasperated. "If I can't talk to you, who else've I got?"
"Of course you can talk honestly with me!" Seamus insisted, shifting and pushing Dean forward as though to move so they were face to face.
"No— stay there, if you don't mind," Dean said quickly, scooting back so he was solidly entrenched in the vee of Seamus' pelvis.
Seamus winced, knowing Dean must be able to feel the pressure of his thickened, but thankfully not erect cock. Maybe Dean would joke about it and move on. He put his hands down on his thighs, though he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around Dean's waist.
Dean took a deep breath. "Look. I just need to say a few things, right? So don't interrupt until you've heard me out."
"All right."
"Well, can I ask you a question first?"
"'Course."
"Do you really perve on my arse?"
"What?!" Seamus said, flustered and slightly pissed off that Dean was bringing something like that up when obviously this was a serious conversation about… something. "You're me best mate. Ye know I look at guys' arses, but—"
Seamus stopped talking before he let on just how guilty he felt about being able to admire Dean's long, wiry body without him knowing.
Dean nodded slowly, and his shoulders slumped so he curved even more against Seamus.
"Well, I know I'm nothing like Fred. But Shay, he treated you like shit. You deserve so much better than that, and I know you're sick of me saying so."
"I don't follow—"
"Well, it's just that I'd kind of hoped maybe you did, genuinely think I was appealing. I'm probably not your type, and Merlin knows we've joked about this for long enough that you'd never believe me, and, well…"
Dean eased his arms underneath Seamus', bringing them together across the lean muscle of his chest.
"I don't know what it means," Dean went on, "but I've been dreaming about you. Heaps. It's your voice, maybe, or the feel of your fingers and how you're always considerate to let me know where you are so I don't stumble over you… We have sex in my dreams, Shay. I know I can't see you now, not anymore, but when I dream I'm doing, well, we're doing all sorts of really fantastic things and your face— you look so amazing, so happy, and I'm the one who touches you, and you make these unbelievable noises…"
He huffed a quiet, pathetic laugh.
Seamus' pulse roared like the ocean. He'd been a bit lost at the mention of Fred, as he'd never thought to compare his former lover to Dean, except that Dean revered him and Fred, after professing all kinds of devotion, had turned out to be an asinine prick. But Dean— Dean was dreaming about them shagging. His Dean might not fancy just birds?
"How long've you been dreamin' about me? About us? That?" Seamus asked, propping his chin on Dean's shoulder, allowing his hands to curl Dean's fingers closer in against the soft skin of his stomach.
"Since that freakish snow, back in April. You're not… offended? Well, you're not laughing, either." Dean's voice was drenched in uncertainty.
The initial shock of Dean's confession had begun to wear off, though the heated flash and tingling in Seamus' skin seemed to radiate from him. Bloody hell, he wanted to just show Dean how fucking unbelievably brilliant he thought it was that Dean fancied him, in a way that he'd not allowed himself to hope for.
"I don't know about any other blokes, Shay," Dean said softly. "But you— I can't stop imagining what you feel like, but it's not some passing thing. I'd never be as cruel as Fred was, even though I know I've not been the best boyfriend to anyone in the past, and I get moody as hell, but you already know that, gods…"
Seamus' mind was a dervish; years of their friendship, of fraternity and laughter, of occasional fights and desperate prayers to any deity who would listen to keep Dean safe during the War— they spun crazily, knocking him off-kilter into this new, unpredicted reality. Seamus let out a breath he'd not realised he'd been holding as Dean cautiously pulled their joined left hands down on top of a prominent bulge in his trackshorts.
"Oh fuck," Seamus whispered.
"You do this to me," Dean said helplessly. "I hope I've not bollixed everything up between us, but I thought I'd go batshite if I didn't say something. I mean, for fuck's sake, I was finishing a really great wank thinking about you when I slipped so spectacularly in the tub. Not that I was going to tell that to any Healer, especially Ron."
Seamus let out a strangled laugh, his fingers rapaciously fondling their new steely prize.
"'S not funny," Dean muttered, though Seamus could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.
"Dean. Shut up for a minute," Seamus insisted, desperate to tell him that he'd not messed things up in any way at all. "I've got to have me say, quickly, before I fucking explode, and then you're going to let me show you just how fucking much I adore you and want to feel whatever it is ye've been dreaming about."
Dean moaned and nodded his head. Seamus slowly rubbed up and down the enticing length under the soft fabric of Dean's shorts. He'd never been more grateful for wearing boxers as his own cock practically leapt against the small of Dean's back.
"I've had thoughts for you off and on, but ye knew that. I knew you liked birds and I was okay with that, too. Things were better that way, I s'pose; better than thinking of you off with some guy. But I didn't know ye'd even considered blokes, or me. I'd hoped you might, but never expected it. You're me very best friend, Dean," he said, his other hand having slid up past the baggy shorts to reverently caress the soft, thin skin of Dean's sacs. "Yes, I've really perved on your arse. Ye're handsome, mate. Fucking beautiful," he murmured, nearly swooning with the warm, cloveish Dean scent that filled his senses. "I don't want to be just an experiment to you, though. Don't think I'd do well with that. You know I'm possessive, and I carry grudges forever."
"Not an experiment," Dean said, his husky voice settling on Seamus like buttery leather. "Like I said, I've not known what to think. It's not about blokes, generally; it's about you. I just wish I could see you." He paused and Seamus stilled his hands, uncertain how to explain that it didn't matter that Dean was blind. Evidently Dean's imagination seemed quite healthy; though he'd always been frighteningly able to intuit Seamus' moods simply by looking at him, that hadn't stopped since he'd lost his sight.
"I wish you could, too," Seamus rumbled, removing his right hand from Dean's groin so he could cradle his jaw. He turned Dean's head enough so he could speak against the corner of Dean's parted lips. "But you'll feel me, instead."
Dean's indistinct but needy groan made Seamus want to shed his skin and simply slide into him, tongues, fingers, cocks, all blended into one throbbing, fantastic being.
"Have to kiss ye, now. Have to know how you taste and feel and… ach, shove over!"
A low laugh tumbled out of Dean's mouth as Seamus edged out from behind him. He shoved down his shorts and boxers and kicked them to the floor, telling Dean what he was doing and that he'd bloody well do the same. Then there was nothing but his body pressed into Dean's; miles of Dean's corded muscle and sable skin to be ravished and explored, but only after Seamus at last had kissed him fully on the lips. Seamus reckoned that the thundering in his chest was loud enough to wake their neighbours, but he didn't care. Dean was making delicious moaning noises, his slick tongue sliding along Seamus' lips as Seamus plundered the roasting wet of Dean's mouth. Thankfully their noticeable difference in height was mostly in the length of their legs; Seamus could rock into Dean's groin, whimpering shamelessly at the friction of their cocks pushing against each other. He intertwined their fingers, their mutual hold seamless and solid.
Unbidden, a physical memory of lying astride Fred, of their more similar statures and Fred's brawn flared on his skin. The heady scent of beer and candied ginger that Dean loved to snack on overcame the older remembrance, for which Seamus was grateful. He pulled away from Dean's mouth, panting.
"I've got to taste you, okay?" he pleaded, thrusting his erection against the flat plane of Dean's pelvis. He stared into the opalescence of Dean's eyes, remembering the gorgeous chocolaty colour they'd been, the amber flecks that had radiated from his pupils. Gods, but he wished Dean could see him, see the flush and desperation that Seamus was sure was stamped on his face.
"Taste me where?" Dean gasped, disengaging his hands so he could run them down Seamus' back to knead at his arse.
"Everywhere. Ach, I love your hands on me," Seamus sighed, wriggling closer to Dean and holding his sweat-glistening face in his palms. "Mostly I want your cock in my mouth. Want ye like that, want to suck you 'til you're hoarse from yelling," he said throatily before devouring Dean's mouth, humming into his lips as he kissed him before sliding down Dean's torso.
"Gods, Shay, your mouth— wish I'd told you how I felt sooner, you feel incredibleaaaaaaaah!"
Dean's babblings were silenced as Seamus licked around the purpled crown of his cock, peeking out from its sheltering skin. Closing his eyes, Seamus swallowed as much of the long, slender cock as he could. He grinned around the slick pole when Dean arched off the bed, shouting colourful invectives and praise. As Seamus set to his task, Dean clenched his arse, the indents providing an anchor for Seamus' fingers. Musk wafted enticingly up to him as Seamus suckled and occasionally scraped carefully with his teeth. He loved giving head; adored the feel of papery skin over hard length, savoured each unique tangy flavour, his senses filled to bursting with undeniably male scents as the hot flesh slid in and out of his mouth. He listened carefully to Dean's whimpers and rumbling groans of pleasure, changing his speed or intensity so Dean didn't come to his release too soon.
"Shay," Dean sighed, his fingers scrabbling at Seamus' unruly hair. "Shay? I want to taste you too. Come up here, please," he begged, tugging at Seamus' head.
"'m I not making you feel good?" Seamus asked, his feelings slightly hurt. His own neglected cock throbbed, and he squatted back on his heels, stroking himself.
"'Course you are! You're not the very first to do that for me, but Merlin, you're amazing," Dean reassured him, easing up onto his elbows. "But I've never even really seen your, well…"
"My cock, Dean. It's quite attractive. Had no complaints," Seamus joked.
"I don't doubt," Dean said, grinning and shaking his hips slightly. "But I've not felt you in my hands, not had your dick in my mouth. I don't know that I'll be any good at it at all," he admitted plaintively, one arm reaching out for Seamus.
Seamus knee-walked along the outside of Dean's legs and torso, guiding Dean's hand on his thigh as he drew closer. Seamus felt his whole body flushed with desire, his skin taut with the effort of containing his passionate joy. His heart was giddy, cavorting over itself now that he and Dean were together like this, naked and aroused. Their bodies were new canvases to paint with kisses and covetous fingers. He held the base of his cock with one hand, the other grasping Dean's shoulder for balance as all the blood in his body seemed to have lodged resolutely in his prick. When Dean sent out his tongue to swirl around the head of Seamus' cock, he shuddered with pleasure. Dean closed his eyes, lapping and teasing with his tongue until Seamus pushed his hips forward.
"Holy fuck," Seamus moaned, watching his shaft thrust in and out between Dean's lush lips. Dean was rather timid in his treatment, but it didn't matter, not right now. Technique could come later. "I think you're a natural," he murmured, moving his hand from Dean's shoulder to cradle the back of his head.
Dean pulled back with a long lick to the sensitive underside of Seamus' prick, slowly opening his unseeing eyes. "I snuck a few looks as those poufter mags you barely hid back in school, y'know," he said, his roughened voice the sexiest noise Seamus had heard in months. When Dean nuzzled the side of his face against Seamus' bobbing cock in a tender, intimate gesture, his legs trembled. "There was one picture I could never get out of my head, even though I thought I only wanted to get into girls' knickers."
"What was it?" Seamus croaked. He cleared his throat while letting the crown of his cock graze across Dean's puffy lips.
"Two blokes, lying side by side, both of them doing this to each other. At the same time," he said reverently.
Seamus' eyes grew wide and a wicked grin settled on his mouth. "You want to go at it, sixty-nine? You pervy bastard." He snickered, sitting backward so that he could snatch another barrage of nipped kisses from Dean's glistening lips. "I think I've always loved ye, but now you've stolen my heart."
When Dean sat still, an icicle of fear frissoned down Seamus' spine. He'd not been joking, but surely that wasn't really an unexpected thing to say… hadn't Dean's earlier admission meant that he felt at least something akin to what Seamus did, beyond friends?
"You do?" Dean shifted, placing a hand at the small of Seamus' back. "That's, well…" He stretched out his legs, putting his other hand around to fan out on the lower knuckles of Seamus' backbone. "You're a brave man, Seamus Finnigan."
"That, or just bloody sentimental," Seamus said, unable to stop speaking exactly what was on his mind. He dropped his head so that their foreheads touched. "Let's forget what I said and get back to the really brilliant—"
"Shay." Dean's awestruck voice commanded Seamus' attention. "You're brave for wanting to be with me. I'm not exactly low-maintenance, though Merlin knows I try to be. I trust you with everything, and I want to get to know every part of you. Outside and in."
Seamus' desire to meld into Dean surged back with a vengeance. He rubbed his cheek against the side of Dean's face, closing his eyes at the thrill of feeling Dean's stubble scraping gently against his skin.
"So how about I turn around and you get propped up on these monstrous pillows 'o mine, and we'll fulfill this long-standing fantasy of yours, right?"
Dean beamed at him before kissing him soundly and getting situated. Acute yearning bruised itself on Seamus as he manouevered himself into what was actually a rather awkward position. He'd really not given Dean's recent blindness that much thought, once they'd figured out that the damage was irreversible. Dean was still Dean, and Seamus had a sense that was part of why they continued to get on so well, because he didn't treat his best friend any differently than before. But this — being naked and snogging and sucking each other off and hopefully shagging, too — it seemed wretchedly unfair that Dean had only his mind's eye from his dreams to guess at the look on Seamus' face when he came. Not that Seamus even knew what that looked like, or the moony, adoring expression he knew sometimes settled on his face. Or so he'd been told.
Once he and Dean found a stilted but enthusiastic rhythm for their mutual fellatio, all esoteric thoughts were banished from Seamus' mind. There was only the new and delicious sensation of Dean's firm prick in his mouth, the amazing slurping sounds and humming that Dean made while doing the same to Seamus' aching cock, and the vaguely spicy musk scent that made Seamus' pulse race. He couldn't really concentrate on what all Dean was doing with his tongue because he was so focussed on bringing Dean his own pleasure; Seamus had found that an unfortunate but irrefutable problem to sex like this, but since Dean had seemed so keen on it, he'd been happy to go along. He redoubled his efforts, oddly gratified when Dean let Seamus' prick slip out of his mouth.
"Shay… oh gods, Shay, ohhhhh…" he moaned, the broken, unguarded noise heralding his release. Seamus swallowed the vinegarsweet fluid, keeping his lips moving slowly on Dean's shaft until he choked out a sound of distress.
"Too sensitive, oh fuck, you're amazing. Come up here, please?" he said imploringly.
After wiping his lips with the back of his hand and ghosting a kiss at the hollow above Dean's thigh, Seamus turned back around to lie in Dean's welcoming arms.
"Like that?" Seamus asked, pressing his still-hard erection against Dean's hip.
"Un-fucking-believable." Dean shook his head slowly. "I'm boneless. But I've not taken care of you."
Tilting his head back, Seamus slid an open-mouthed kiss down Dean's jaw to his chin. "Ye've got great skills with that left hand of yours. Budge down and lie next to me. I won't be going soft anytime soon."
Dean snorted, and rearranged their bodies so he could take Seamus in hand. Not one to be ashamed about such things, Seamus told him exactly what felt good to him, how he liked to be stroked slowly, and to hold tighter while sliding up, and to run his thumb over the head.
"Bit faster, oh, fuck, just like that…." Seamus' orgasm roiled through him with such intensity that his toes cramped up, his feet arching inward like talons. He panted loudly through the aftershocks, eventually prying off the hand that'd been grasped to the headboard so he could turn and drape his arm over Dean's side.
"You sound really sexy when you come," Dean murmured, sliding down the bed so they were face to face. He gently let go of Seamus' softening cock, holding his ejaculate-covered fingers up to his nose and mouth before licking off some of the pungent fluid. Seamus couldn't stifle a whimper when Dean closed his eyes, smearing a thin layer of come on his mouth and mashing his lips together.
"Don't taste bad, either," Dean said, his expression thoughtful. "Bit saltier than mine. Think I could get quite used to it."
"You're really okay with this? Being with me, just cocks and arse and no soft jiggly bits?" Seamus said half-teasingly, rubbing his sweaty forehead against a pillowcase while Dean wiped his hand on his thigh.
"Well, you know I've no other men to compare you to, and I really don't get all that hot and bothered thinking about other men's bodies. But you," he slid his arm around Seamus' back to pull him in close enough that they breathed the same hot air, "you're who I want to be with. We're still going to be okay around each other, right?"
"What do ye mean? Of course we are!" Seamus insisted. "You'll still throw a fit if I forget to put in a new roll of loo paper when we're nearly out, and I'll trip over your stacks of books in the living room and swear at you, and we'll do the crossword like we do every morning, and we'll have mid-afternoon tea or beer together like we do every afternoon, and it'll be just like always. But better," he said softly.
The late afternoon sun bathed the room in tawny light, a hazy stream from the window highlighting the contrast of Seamus' freckled leg sprawled over Dean's dark, lean thigh.
"Better sounds pretty unreal," Dean said, closing his eyes and blowing upwards to dry some of the sweat from his face. "Where'll we sleep? At night, I mean?"
Seamus eased out from under Dean's arm, muttering about a low-grade wind charm which he cast once he found his wand. "I don't know." Seamus crawled back onto his bed, stretching out on his back as Dean had decided to sit upright again. "Suppose we can alternate our rooms. I mean, ye're not wanting to move to just a one-room place, are you? I thought you were comfortable here in this flat. That bloody cat that keeps lurking around the flat block wants to adopt you. Who'd feed it if we left?"
Dean's lips turned down and with uncanny ability, he pinched Seamus' left nipple.
"Ow! Fuck!" Seamus swore, rubbing at his abused skin.
"I don't want to move, you arse. I just, well, if we're lovers now, or boyfriends…" There was a fleeting look of distaste on Dean's face before he continued on. "Nothing against Harry and Ron, or anybody else like that who's a pair, but I hate that term."
"Like that?" Seamus chortled. "What do you think ye are?"
Dean seemed to turn inward, his brows furrowing and intertwining his fingers so that they were inverted toward the ceiling.
"Fuck, mate, that's not what I meant to say," Seamus said, backpedaling and wishing he'd not sounded like a total prick. Dean had said he didn't think he was into men as a general manner of taste. And yet here Seamus was, not ten minutes after being the first man Dean had ever been physically involved with, his best mate, and putting his foot in it.
"No, I know, Shay. It's just not that obvious to me. I've been really attracted to girls, and then there's you. You're what feels right. But we're equal, y'know? Being thought of as a boyfriend just makes me ill."
"You can just tell people I'm your willing sex slave," Seamus offered, trying to bring back some humour to their conversation. "Or hell, why do we have to be like other couples, anyway? We're us. Don't have to be all in the face of the Prophet just because some of their editors are fucking homophobes; Ron and Harry do that already. Ye're Dean, I'm Seamus, we're best mates, always have been."
"But now we don't have to cast silencing spells on our rooms and wank alone," Dean said, a warm smile blooming on his lips. "Just don't go and getting all romantic and sentimental on me."
"Me? What makes you think I'd do something daft like that?" Seamus harrumphed, crossing his arms on his chest. "I may give you blow jobs that leave you absolutely shattered, but that doesn't mean I'm going to start writing you crap poetry and buying you flowers. I'm queer, not a bloody girl."
"I know. Reckon that's why I think this is the best thing that's ever happened," Dean said, his voice unexpectedly thick.
Seamus turned his head, uncrossing his arms and getting up onto his elbows. "Ye do?"
"Yeah. I want to be the best for you. I know you've had your feelings pretty messed up before, but I promise I won't do anything like that on purpose. You deserve better. And I…"
Dean paused, as though wary of the words he wanted to say.
"I'm yours, Seamus. I don't know how else to say it."
Seamus breathed deeply of the air of trust, nodding his head, though Dean couldn't see it. "I think I know what you mean." He leaned over to kiss Dean's chest above his heart. "Thank you."
..:~TBC~:..
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-17 05:35 am (UTC)The honesty and abruptness of Dean's confession and Seamus' declaration of 'love' was nice for a change, rather than doing the usual UST dance around the issue. My chest actually tightened with Seamus' anxiety as he listened to Dean talk.
I was thrilled that you left Dean uncut! Hee - that's just a pet quirk for me. :P
Oh your words, your
This fic is full of gorgeous phrases like this.
I look forward to more.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-17 07:03 pm (UTC)The uncut part is Callum's influence, speaking to an actual British bloke and all that...
I'm blushing at your commentary about my language. I could say the same thing about your wordcraft, you know!! The phrase about being stuck between a hard wall and even harder Weasley comes to mind… :)
I'm so pleased that you're enjoying this. While I don't know that it'll be as long as Fling Wide, it just might be. There's a lot of ground to cover to get these three together. Thank you so much for commenting.