Hey hey, another one! Deamus is rapidly becoming more obsessive than Spirk!
- - - - - - - -
Title: Valentines Day, part deux
by kissmeimirish
Rating: R. Language, underage, candy used inappropriately ;P
Pairing: Deamus, the one and only
Summary: The rest of that blissful Valentines Day, the first Seamus and Dean *really* share together.
NOTE: For the beginning, it would help to have read the prequel "Valentines Day." Just a tip.
- - - - - - - - -
"Oh. My. God."
"Ron, what- oh."
"Um."
I hear some whispers coming in bleary waves at the edge of my consciousness. There is a pleasant, soft warmth under my arms and I'm snuggled up to it. I feel a breath of warm air on my forehead.
I crack one eye, see the rich chocolaty skin, and everything we did floods back.
I must have made some sort of noise, because Dean replies with a grunt of his own and the whispers stop, though only for a second.
*Whispers?*
I sit bolt upright, sheet pushing down to my waist, and look around wildly. One of my curtains has been drawn back, and Ron is standing beside my bed with a Dungbomb in his hands and a dropped jaw. Harry and Neville are just behind him, with similar expressions. I suppose the Dungbomb was supposed to be a joke, dropped on my bed.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, some thoughts come into being and collide. One was, "Oh, shite." Another: "He better not drop that." And then, "What the hell now?!"
I make another noise and Dean mumbles something that sounds remarkably like, "Cover me the fuck back up."
"Seamus?" Harry has managed to squeeze out a word.
"Yeah?"
"Are you and Dean- erm- naked?"
"What does it look like?"
"It looks a lot like you just shagged, actually," says Ron. "*Did* you?"
Deciding, what the fuck, let them wonder, I close the curtain and lean back against Dean, covering him back up.
"What was that?" he mumbles.
"Our drom-mates have returned and are currently qued up outside my bed, looking as if they've all been Stunned."
Silence, then: "Shit."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Does this mean I have to get up?"
"It's advisable."
With a groan, Dean rolls over and props himself up on his elbows.
"Welcome back," I say.
"Where are my clothes?"
"No idea."
"Now you have to kiss me 'cause you lost my clothes."
"Anytime."
We wrap around each other and snog for a little bit.
"D'you think they're doing it again?"
"No, we're bloody *not*, Neville!" Dean has removed his lips from mine- sadly- and is grabbing a pillowcase to wear around his waist. I cover myself with the sheet and open the curtain.
"Yeah?" asked Dean.
"Um."
"*What?!*"
"Does this mean you're- gay?" squeaks Neville.
We look at each other. I shrug.
"Yeah, but don't get any ideas," Dean replies.
"Someone hand me my pants," I say. Harry finally moves and dumps our pile of clothes on my lap.
A few minutes and three traumatized dorm-mates later, Dean and I are up in our shorts and school shirts; Dean's grabbing the Dungbomb from Ron's drooping hands.
"If you lot don't close your mouth, something gonna fly in them," he says, putting the Bomb under my bed.
"What time is it?" I ask, hopping into my trousers.
"15:36."
"Shite, we crashed for three bloody hours!"
"Are you guys gonna tell- y'know. People?" Ron has delivered another eloquent sentence.
"Look, guys, we're not feckin' coming out *quite* yet, as this was our first time and will you please stop looking like goldfish; we're not in a zoo," I say, grabbing my tie and stuffing my feet in my trainers.
"Oh- yeah. Sorry."
They wander off, and Dean gets dressed.
"Just to clear things up, he's all mine!" he calls to the others. Neville snickers, and soon we're all laughing until it hurts.
"C'mon, Dean, let's go to the lake."
We walk, arm-in-arm, out of the dorm.
I've got the Jelly Slugs from this morning in my pocket, even though Dean won't let me stick them in him out there, en plein air. They might still be fun.
It's sunny now and the fog has burned off. Dean's got his sketching stuff and says he wants to draw me in front of the lake.
"I love the way your hair's mussed up," he says, charcoal flying.
"Mmm."
"And you've got that little half-smile that says you've got a secret."
"I haven't got any secrets, not from you. Just the others."
"Don't move!" I've started to slip down on my elbows.
"How long will you need? It's uncomfortable."
"I'll make it up to you."
"That sounds-" loaded -"nice. What will you do?"
"Let you do something to me."
"How about letting me stick Jelly Slugs up your arse?" I ask, holding up the bag.
He stops sketching a moment and just looks at me.
"I s'pose so," he says, resuming his sketch. Then he smiles. "You've got a candy fetish, Finnigan. First cream puffs, now Slugs, and I know you love chocolate. What next?"
"Dunno. Let me think."
"You're *thinking* now, as well as reading and memorizing spells? Are you feeling all-right?"
"Let's play doctor and find out!"
He drops his book and launches himself at me. We wrestle for a bit.
"You messed up your drawing," I say, when we've finished.
"S'alright. I'll remember the shadows. What about those Jelly Slugs?"
- - - - - - - - - -
God, Seamus looks so good right now. His sandy hair is all tousled, his cheeks and nose are a little pink, and he's breathing hard. I want to take a mental picture and remember this forever. He's beautiful.
The sketch is good too; I think I'll do it in pastel. Yeah, he'd look nice in those creamy colors.
"Dean?"
He's gotten up and is offering me his hands. His shirt is unbuttoned and his tie is un-tied, hanging like a scarf. I'm sure I'm drooling.
"Earth to Dean? You coming?"
"Yeah, hold on."
It seems funny that only a couple days ago, I was obsessing over being in love with Seamus. It also seems funny that only a couple days ago, Seamus was wanking off every day to stop his wet dreams about me, just so I wouldn't be uncomfortable.
It's funny that. Most people think that he's just a noisy, unfeeling Irish boy, but he's almost totally opposite. He's kind and caring, and yes, a bit on the rowdy side. I've seen Seamus give his last box of Bertie Bott's to a first year in hospital wing. I know a different Seamus Finnigan.
He caught ahold of my hand just then and began wheeling around, singing an off-key rendition of a Celestina Warbeck love ballad. It's amazing that he can force the words out while laughing his arse off. Soon I'm singing too, and we careen over the fields like a demented dragon, ending up at the front steps.
Right at the feet of Professor Snape.
"Detention, Mr Finnigan and Mr Thomas. Monday evening, my office," he said smoothly.
"Why?!" protested Seamus.
"Breaking dress code, disturbing the peace, and being a nuisance."
"What, I'm not allowed to horse around outside with me best mate on a glorious holiday?"
I squeeze his hand to get him to shut up- and realize I'm still holding it, right there in front of Snape. I quietly try to slip my hand away, and for a horrible second I think I see Snape's eyes flicker down to our hands. He raises his eyebrows at us.
"It's not allowed if you are being so disruptive."
"Dean wasn't doing anything! It was my idea!"
"Oh?"
"No, he's just with me!"
I wince. Loaded statement, Shay.
"Surely you would want to share your- time with Mr Thomas, being such great friends."
Seamus doesn't reply, grinding his teeth instead.
"Can we go now?"
"Fix your uniform."
He grudgingly reaches up and buttons his shirt, and knots his tie. The knot's lopsided.
"Fix. Your. Tie." Snape's voice is dangerous.
"Shay, here-" I reach over unthinkingly and reknot his little striped tie, and almost melt into my shoes at the Look he gives me.
He glares at Snape. "Okay now?"
"You may go."
We dash up the stairs.
"*Walk.*"
We force ourselves to trudge all the way back to the Fat Lady, who is sleeping with several empty boxes of chocolates littering her frame.
"Well, I s'pose it was inevitable," mutters Seamus.
"What?"
"Been 3 3\4 weeks since my last detention."
"Are you a bad boy?" As if I don't know.
He shoots me another Look. "You have no idea." His eyes were laughing.
"Show me."
"All right- I will."
We abandon the prospect of being together in our dorm without traumatizing our dorm-mates, and soon we're walking up and down the corridor outside the Room of Requirement.
The door appears, Seamus goes in, and I follow, checking the hallway first.
"Whoa."
Seamus has stopped, mouth slightly open. In a second, I see why.
We have stepped into what looks suspiciously like a gay bar, complete with lights, bar, and a "relaxing" -AKA shagging- area in the corner.
"Seamus? What exactly did you think about?"
He closes his mouth and flushes slightly.
"Um- I just thought, 'I need a place where I can be with my boyfriend.' Guess the room figured out..." He trails off.
"Is there music here?" I head over to a stereo set against a wall.
"What d'you wanna hear, Shay?"
"Dunno. Maybe just put the whole collection on random. No rap. Is that a bar?"
He heads for the bar so fast he almost trips on his own feet. "Aww, it's only butterbeer and juices and crap."
"It must know we're underage."
"Watch this."
He's waving his wand over a glass of water, muttering the charm for Firewhiskey.
"Seamus, look out! You're waving your wand the wrong-"
*BANG*
"-direction." I run over. His face is sooty and he looks like he's been Stunned, but he appears to be intact.
Apart for half of his left eyebrow, which crumbles and falls off. He's still cute.
"Shay? You hurt?"
"Not *again.*"
"Here- don't move. *Scourgify.*"
Amazingly, it works. He looks at his (preciously grass-stained and dusty) trousers in surprise, then rubs his face, hand coming off clean.
"Wow- where'd you learn that?"
"I read couple books over the summer too."
"Did you read a book called 'How To Charm Cheeky Irish Wizards'?"
"No."
"Strange, cause that's what you've done."
Half of his clothes are instantly on the floor, and mine are rapidly going the same way. He's kissing me, God, it seems like forever since he did that thing with his teeth, our hands wandering.
Just before he abandons his trousers, I reach over and grab the bag of Jelly Slugs from the pocket.
"Not gonna forget these, are you?"
"'Course not- let's dance!"
- - - - - - - - -
It's an odd feeling, dancing in your pants, alone, with your boyfriend.
You keep expecting someone to start making fun of you, and then remember the only other person is in love with you. And he's nearly naked as well.
We dance, making fun of the dance music's beat with out exaggerated moves. The lights flash in time to the music. A slower song comes on, the lights dimming.
"D'you know how to slow dance?" I ask, moving closer to Dean.
"Kinda. My sisters did it a lot with their boyfriends."
"You press like this... and you move like this..."
After about 10 minutes of these actions, we've both got really hard stiffies, and decide to abandon dancing. Dean's still holding the bag of candy as I waltz him over to the bed.
It's truly amazing how fast your boyfriend can strip you of your pants.
"Shay?"
"Yeah?"
"Do Jelly Slugs need lube?"
"Might break 'em down."
"They're already- y'know. Slippery enough, yeah?"
"Probably. Let's find out!"
I've got Dean on his hands and knees, that big strong back horizontal. I take out a Slug and play with it while I decide how to approach the situation. The Slugs feel a lot like a well-lubed dick, nice and firm in the center, slippery on the outside.
I coat my fingers in it's sugary gel and start to probe Dean's firm arse. Apparently, he like it, because he makes a funny noise and pushes back on my fingers.
"You okay?" I ask. He just nods. I reach for another Slug.
"Here goes. Might be cold."
I hold him open with one hand and slide the Slug into him, bit by bit, with the other.
He looks like he's going to fall over.
"How is it?"
"Oh- oh God, Shay- you can't ima-"
And then he does fall over.
I've got him positioned like I was earlier, on his back, legs spread, knees bent. I've gotten the Slug totally up him, making sure I don't loose the end. He's quivering and his dick twitches periodically.
"Dean- tell me what you want."
"I-I want you to- to touch me."
I lean forward and wrap my jelly-coated hand around his stiff cock. He moans as I start to rub, getting faster and faster. He arches his back, and I slip another finger into his arse, enjoying the sight.
Suddenly, it's over, Dean spurting milky-white blobs on his stomach and my slippery hand.
I remove my fingers from his contracting arse and stroke his shaft as it jumps.
Finally, he opens his eyes and looks as me.
"Seamus."
"Shhh."
"That was-"
"Shh!"
"Bloody brilliant."
I have to kiss him so he'll be quiet.
part 3 on the way....
R&R please!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Valentines Day part 2
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
And Here's my first ever Deamus...
Title: Valentine's Day
Author: kissmeimirish
Rating: R for language and underage sex
Paring: Deamus, totally
Summary: Seamus is having dreams about his best mate. What will happen when some hormones and a certain holiday get in the mix?
Disclaimer: HP and Dean and (sadly) Seamus belong to J.K. Rowling, who never used them to their full potential.
- - - - - - - - - -
I moan as the hands roam over me, caressing my chest, tweaking my hard nipples, gliding down to my stomach and finally to my stiff cock, over the wet tip, and fondling my balls. Now I'm being bent over the edge of my four-poster, naked arse exposed, and those long fingers are stroking me from the inside out, dripping cool lube inside. The fingers left, and I make a small sound of objection, but then something else begins to fill me, long and hard and oh so slick...
I collapsed over the bed as my sweet spot is touched again and again, rubbing me into ecstasy, as the cock moves in and out, in and out.
I murmur and come explosively all over the bedsheets.
I wake up the instant my orgasm stopped. Then I feel the all-to familiar wetness. Fuck. I get out of bed and reach for the box of tissues on my stand- they come in handy for a healthy, horny teenage boy- and mop myself off, sponging most of the mess from the sheets. They'd be clean by tomorrow night anyway.
I wriggle out of my soiled pajama bottoms and slide back into bed, gloomily reflecting that sleep was not going to come back tonight.
The first time this had happened, I'd dismissed it as just another wet dream. The second time, I'd noticed how strong the hands were, cause I was just getting blown. In the third, I actually got fucked, spiking off these- questions.
These past few nights, though, I've seen that not only is there another penis involved, and the hands are masculine, but that the hands are black, and I know them as well as I know my own.
Gay or straight has never really been an issue with me, and, as far as I could tell, neither with Dean. But these things are different when *you* are the possibly gay person, and you are steadily falling in love with your- apparently straight- best friend.
Anyways, Dean has a girlfriend- Ginny Weasley. They've been off and on for about two months now, with some rows in between. Dean never talked about the fights, and no one seemed to ask.
I just bury my head in my pillow, trying to block Dean's face from my mind. Would it always be just a dream?
The next morning's a little tense, because Dean and Ginny had another row, right in the middle of breakfast. They saved the loudest for the corridor outside the Great Hall, but the distance didn't muffle it much.
Dean met up with me outside double History of Magic, looking thunderous and still feeling antisocial. He didn't say a word until the second half of the class, when I pass him a Chocolate Frog under the desk.
"Thanks."
"You look like you could use it."
Dean snorted.
"She's sure got a temper," he mutters around a mouthful of Frog.
"What happened this time?"
"She's accusing me of being in love with someone else."
"No way."
"Yep. Go figure."
"Are you?"
Dean was quiet for a moment, and my heart sped up.
"I don't know," he finally answered. "I'm not sure I'm actually in love with Ginny."
I leave with a small smile, for a reason I don't want to think about.
There's a Quidditch match tonight, Gryffyndor against Hufflepuff. Harry was out on the pitch, making an arse of himself as usual. He's nice and all, but he can be a bit of a prick sometimes. Hopefully it's just hormones.
Dean was sketching Ginny in her robes, tongue between teeth, from the stands. When he finished, he drew a little heart in the corner and waved his wand over the paper. It folded up into a little airplane and obediently fluttered down to hover in front of Ginny's face. She grabbed it, looked it over, then scrunched it up and dropped it. She threw an angry glance up towards the stands, and Dean's face crumpled like his drawing. He packed up his supplies and was about to walk away when I caught the edge of his cloak.
"Hey- where'ye going?"
"Bed."
"Aw, come on- it's barely dark! At least watch the first half with me."
"Shay-"
"I'll get you a butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip."
"All right."
They sat down together to watch the start of the match. I give Dean a piece of Drooble's, and we chew in silence for the first 15 minutes.
"Ginny and you-"
"Dunno."
"You okay?"
I wished I hadn't said it the second it left my mouth. Dean slowly turned to look at me.
*"Okay?"*
"Um-"
"Look, Seamus, not *all* of us are poofs, you know? I'm *just fine!*"
What?
"P-poofs?"
"Yeah, Seamus, *you* are gay and I know it! Don't try to tell me you have no idea!"
I'm stunned. *How did Dean know?*
"Dean-"
"I hear you every night, moaning and rubbing and shit. And you're dreaming about a *man*, Finnigan. *A MAN!*"
"Dean-"
"I'd be fine with it, so long as you don't assume that *all* of us are gay too!"
"Dean- I didn't mean- I'm- I'm sorry, Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Really."
Dean's quiet now. A Bludger soars through the air and hits Harry soundly in the arm.
"Shay- mate- look, *I'm* sorry. I'm still mad at Ginny and all, and you're the closest person I- well, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm really sorry."
I let out my breath. I hadn't realized I was holding it.
"It's- it's okay, Dean. But- well- what- how do you know I dream about a guy?"
Dean makes a face.
"You talk about him fucking you. Fucking you over your bed."
"Did I ever say a name?"
"Dunno. The rest of it's too quiet."
Silence, then I say, "Damn. I never thought I was sleep-talking."
"Scared me to hell and back the first time. Though you brought someone back that we missed," he says, grinning.
I smile back, pretty weakly.
"Dean- um- d'you think the others know?"
"Not really. Neville doesn't, cause he's always snoring like a pig. Ron neither, maybe Harry, but I don't know."
"You- y'know. You won't tell anyone just yet, right?"
"Sure. And Shay-"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to worry about that butterbeer. It'll be the other way 'round."
"Uh- well- thanks, Dean. For everything."
"No problem. We're best mates, right?"
"Right."
"Now let's shut up about out love lives and watch Harry get pummeled."
We watch Gryffyndor scrape by when Harry catches the Snitch. As the first drops of rain pelt down from the sky, we run inside to the common room.
I can't sleep, so I'm sitting in my window, watching the rain track down the pane. I hear the steady breathing of the others, minus Harry, who's in hospital wing with a cracked arm bone (and a fractured ego.) I'm mulling over what Dean said to me earlier, at the pitch, and what it might mean...
*"you're the closest person I- well, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."*
Dean, Dean, Dean. Wish I could tell you that I'm dreaming about you, dreaming about you fucking my tight little arse with your big black cock, fucking coming in me, jerking me off, sucking me-
"Shay?"
I jump and bang my head on the windowsill.
"Sorry. Can't sleep?" It's Dean.
"Naw. You?"
"Too busy watching you."
I blush and my stupid heart skips a beat.
"What's up?" I ask, willing my voice to stay steady.
"I was wondering if you're not sleeping so you won't dream- about him."
"Shit, am I that transparent?"
"It's okay, you know. I don't care if you're having a wet dream about a guy. We're still friends. No matter what."
"You really mean that, Dean?"
"Of course. Gryffyndor's honor."
"Thanks."
"Who were you dreaming about?" he asks.
I knew it was coming, just a matter of time. I had even thought of how to respond, but all of my pre-meditated sentences had fled from my brain.
"Shay?"
"Um- well- see, Dean- it's- um- it's- you."
Dean looked like he had just been run over by the Hogwarts Express. I felt like I wanted to break through the window and plummet down the tower to quietly die in the rain of shame.
*"What?"*
"You, Dean. I've been screwing my sheets to you."
"Um."
There is an uncomfortable silence, and I can almost hear him blushing.
"Well-um- that's really. Um. Unexpected."
"Tell me about it."
And suddenly Dean's giggling, quiet at first, then louder and louder. I start to chuckle as well, and now we're laughing outright, to the sleepy protests of their dormmates.
"S'matter?" groans Ron.
"No-no-nothing," guffaws Dean. "Just something Seamus said. Go back to sleep."
"'K." Ron's snores fill the room again.
"What did I say?" I giggle, when I can talk again.
"Just that last thing- like you're weren't expecting it either."
"I wasn't, really. Just happened one night."
"Hmm. I wonder if something spiked it off?"
"Maybe. That was the night when I was pissing drunk, remember?"
"Oh yeah, the infamous 'When I turn this water into Firewhiskey I'm gonna drink the whole thing in front of you' night."
"Gah, that was horrid."
"That night or the next morning?"
"The next morning. I spent half the day in the toilet."
We giggle a little more, then get serious.
"So, Dean- what now?"
"I dunno, Shay- I really don't know."
"Are you mad?"
"No."
"Are you not gonna hang around me alone anymore? No more midnight prank parties?" I'm really pretty worried.
"Oh, no way, of course we can keep doing all that. I'd seriously miss hanging 'round with you, and I don't think things would change- do you?"
"Dunno. I hope these dreams stop, though. Not sure if I could face you knowing I get off each night to- well- y'know."
"Yeah. Want me to cross my fingers?"
"Think so."
"K."
"D'you wanna go to sleep now?"
"Good idea. See you tomorrow- mate."
"Thanks, Dean. Thanks a million."
"No problem."
I go back to my bed, and drop off to sleep.
There are no dreams that night.
- - - - - - -
The next three weeks pass much the same as always, with pranks and giggles and tossing chips in the others mouth. The only difference is that Seamus's wet dreams have stopped, at least I think they have, and the whole topic of anti-gay jokes are totally out-of-bounds. Not that we ever made many of those anyways.
But something has been brewing in my chest.
I guess I was flattered, you know, that Seamus was getting off to the thought of me- well, whatever I was doing to him. And I was a little shocked, but who wouldn't be?
Something else has been happening too. Something I wasn't gonna say to him that night, when he came out to me. That was awkward enough.
The thing is, I tend to duck into a broom closet or whatever to wank off a few times a week. That isn't so bad, I guess, but lately my- thoughts have tended more towards the masculine side of things. The last time- before That Night- I wanked off to the captain of West Ham, with his muscular thighs and all.
I've been a little scared to do it now, cause I'm worried that instead of football players, I'll see Shay, my best mate, sucking me off or presenting himself to me, that tight little arse in the air-
Oh, God.
Dinner is hell. Almost everything anyone does seems to be loaded. Half the things probably are, knowing the crowd I keep, but I seriously doubt that there's anything sexy about Bubotuber pus uses. Unless you see it as spunk...
Right, well- Valentines Day is soon. I want to make Shay a card or something, something different than our usual sugar overdose and singing along to bad love songs on the wireless.
I hope we don't just skip it this year, cause of all This. It'd be a shame. And who knows, maybe Shay'll do the water into Firewhiskey trick again, and we can share it.
Maybe I'll go ask him.
Hogwarts always had a hormonal undercurrent, but around February 14th, it progresses to a full-fledged tsunami. For the most part, I stay out of it. Anyways, I was obsessing a little over what a Valentine to Shay might say. It'd have to be anonymous, for sure, but on the other side, it could possibly be- well, painful, cause of the whole gay thing. At least, if he thought it was from a girl.
I have a few idea drafted out in my sketchbook, along the lines of "Roses are red, violets are blue, you may not know it, but someone loves you", and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go through with this. Part of me's still whispering that I'm really straight, and this is just a sympathetic reaction to your best mate coming out to me- literally.
Suddenly I realize something. We had never actually addressed that, that Seamus was having wet dreams about *me.*
Why had *I* sprung to mind for Shay's weird nighttime romps? What was I missing here? Does this mean that he's *really*, truly, gay-pride-flag *gay*, or is he just temporarily infatuated with me? I've never know Seamus to take notice of any other guy like that; he's always been the ladies man.
Now the prospect of giving him a Valentine seems a lot less playful.
I clear up my things and head for the bathroom. Hopefully a hot bath will help clear things up. Somehow I get sidetracked hiding from Peeves, and I end up in the Broom Closet of Sexy Thoughts, where I used to wank off, before the West Ham football player scare. Unfortunately, my body remembers that it got a treat when we came here, and immediately springs to attention.
I curse under my breath and sat down on some crates to review my options. I could sit here and think about frog guts until my stiffie went away, I could try and make to the bathroom for a cold shower without anyone noticing that my dick was reaching for the sky, or I could just wank off now and get it over with. All three are pretty uncomfortable, for a couple reasons.
Then I hear someone else breathing.
I reach for my wand and back towards the door. "Lumos."
"Shite."
I would know that voice anywhere, with it's little Irish lilt that was really quite cute.
"Seamus? That you?"
"No, it's feckin' Viktor Krum." He's standing in the corner, trying very hard to disappear into the stone.
"What are you doing?"
And then I see that he's pulled his trousers up in a hurry, and the bit of pants showing through his fly is damp.
"Fuck, Dean. I didn't know you came here."
I blush a little at his choice of words.
"Same here. Why?"
"Stops those dreams. Thought you'd be more comfortable."
"You don't have to do this for me, mate."
I wait for him to say that it's for him, too- but it never comes.
"Shay?"
"Yeah?" He's looking at the floor, hands in his pockets.
"Did you like those dreams?"
Deep breath. Seamus's voice is quiet.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
A wash of emotions breaks over me, and I get the odd feeling of being right.
"Um." Yeah, really eloquent, Dean.
"Gonna punch me out now?" he asks.
And then I know exactly what I want to do.
I move towards him, extinguish my wand, and bend slightly to kiss him passionately on the mouth.
He emits a squeak, and I pull back, embarrassed. I hear him lick his lips, tasting me. Then his arms are around me, drawing me closer. We kiss again, deep and long, mouths opening bit by bit until we're being fairly sloppy, but the fire in my belly is growing hotter and hotter, and my chest feels like it's going to explode when he sucks my tongue.
We're grinding our erections together, and Shay had pulled down our trousers and pants, skin against skin, thrusting, stroking, all the while devouring the other's mouth.
I push him down on the crates and kneel between his legs. His breath hitches and he whispers, "Dean- you don't have to-"
"Shut up, Shay, I want to do this too."
He leans back and I find his thigh in the dark, exploring. They aren't like a football players; they're smooth and still a little boyish. I dance my fingers up his inner thigh and follow closely with my mouth, kissing a line up to his balls, licking here and there. Seamus moans and I smile, knowing that I have the power to turn him inside out.
"Dean- Dean, stop."
I freeze, sure that I've gone too far. He reaches for his wand- God, is he gonna hex me?
But he points it at the door and whispers an advanced double-locking spell instead.
"Where'd you learn that?" I ask, bemused.
"Read a book over the summer."
"Seamus Finnigan read a book? Unbelievable. Now, where were we?"
I return my attention to his balls. His cock twitches as I start to lick my way up to his shaft, and kiss my way along his hard length.
When I reach the head, I taste the salty precome and envelop him in my mouth.
"*Fuck*, Dean!" he hisses, arching his back. I just keep twirling my tongue around his cock, sucking and lapping in turn. Shay's hips jerk, he whispers my name, and a salty wetness fills my mouth.
I swallow it- what else am I gonna do?- and pull back. I lick him clean, feeling my own cock leaking onto the floor.
"Damn...Dean, that was-"
I kiss him so he'll shut up.
- - - - - - - - - - -
This is unbelievable.
Dean just sucked me off in a broom cupboard.
He kissed me *first*.
He found out I like him.
I found out he likes me.
Damn.
Tomorrow is Valentine's day. I wonder what we'll do.
God, what *am* I gonna do? Give him a card that says, "Thanks for sucking me off, Happy Valentines"?
We get a trip to Hogsmeade instead of studies, as it's on a weekend this year. I'll split some candy with him like always, then what? Is he gonna try to stick a Jelly Slug up my arse?
Hey...
We all wake up at about 5 am, due to Neville having a nightmare that he's spending today with Snape, who tries to slip him some love potion. He was a gibbering wreck, so I turned his jug of water into Firewhiskey (*without* burning my eyebrows off, thank you very much) and he glugged some down.
Harry and Ron disappeared early on to find prospective dates, probably a pint or dozen, and Neville staggered off outside after drinking too much. Dean and me are alone in the room.
We look at each other, still in our pajamas. My dick starts to get hard.
"So- what d'you wanna do?" I ask.
"Dunno. You?"
"Mmm... maybe- d'you wanna stay here or go to Hogsmeade?"
"Hogsmeade first, then come back early?"
"Sounds good. But before we go, why don't you let me take care of that little issue of yours?"
I gesture to Dean's rapidly tenting bottoms. He looks at me for a moment, and then we're all
over each other, mouths open, hands groping. We manage to make it to his bed before our legs give out, and now we're all over each other, hands between legs, wanking each other off.
And then it's over, spunk overflowing everywhere as we groan into each other's mouth.
We kiss again, clean up, and go out.
Hogsmeade is packed with students, most cuddling and shacked up, especially in that Madame Puddifoot's or whatever that hell is. We walk kinda close together, not so close that people get ideas- I'm not sure if Dean's ready for that just yet- but close enough so that we can hold hands under out cloaks.
We stop at Honeydukes to get some chocolate and Sugar Quills, and I get a little sack of cream puffs and, yes, Jelly Slugs. You never know.
We skip the Three Broomsticks, as it's absolutely packed, and go back up to the castle. On the way, when no one was around, we kinda hug as we walk, with a quick kiss every few steps. It's wonderful.
All those surging emotions and hormones make sure we both have a stiffie when we get back. We head straight for our room, where we dump our cloaks and make it past the first Chocolate Frog and nip of Firewhiskey before we're snogging for Ireland again. We strip off slowly, enjoying out freedom, savoring every look.
Dean's on his back on my bed, looking up at me. The pupils in his beautiful eyes are dilated, and his mouth is slightly open, breath ragged. I've never seen such a hard-on.
I take out a cream puff and smile when his eyes widen. I move slowly until I'm straddling his lower torso, just above his cock. I don't put my full weight on him, just break the puff and spread a blob of cream on each hard nipple.
I dump the shell and lean forward to lick the sweet whiteness from his ebony skin. Lick, lick, lick. At the last few strokes of my tongue, he whimpers, and I feel his cock jump against my arse.
I smile mischievously and reach for my secret stash of Muggle lube. Dean shuts his eyes as I turn around to grease his cock with long, slow strokes.
I help him sit up, his strong back against a bedpost and draw the curtains. We kiss again, and then I lean back against my pillows, and spread my legs, bent at the knee.
"Fuck, Shay- I mean- *fuck.*"
"Like what you see?"
"Fuck."
"C'mere and I'll show you 'fuck'," I whisper.
"Sassy Irish."
He moves forward with the lube. I close my eyes as I feel his slick fingers slide into my arse, coating the inside in cool gel.
Now it's my turn to whisper, "fuck," as he reaches my sweet spot.
"Dean- Dean, fuck me, Dean."
He slips out his fingers, and as I open my eyes, I see the tip of his long black cock start to disappear into my pale arse.
"*Fuck!*"
He's almost all the way into me now, and it feels better than I could ever have imagined. Better even than in my dreams. Oh, Dean...
He stops and looks at me when he's buried to the hilt.
"God, Shay- you look so *hot* right now."
"Wha- what do you mean?" I'm fucking panting.
"Just- with your face like that, and your hair messed up- and you're so *hard*... hard for me?"
"You know I am."
"Want more?"
"Gah, *fuck* me, Dean!"
He obliges, thrusting slow and gentle at first, then faster and harder. He leans forward, still pushing into me, and we snog like it's our first time again- all sloppy and, well, sexy.
It's not long before my brain fries in pleasure and I come all over our stomachs, making Dean moan. An odd sensation fills my arse, like reverse coming, and it's only when Dean's spunk drips out my arse do I realize that I made him come.
He pulls out and flops down beside me. We kiss again, though we're too tired to do much, and mop ourselves up. We curl up together and we're smiling, drifting off to sleep, holding on to each other. *This is love.*
And after all, I've still got those Jelly Slugs.
Fin- for now. ;P
feedback! here or at bugzaboo (at) gmail (dot) com
I'm working on a sequel right now! Please R&R, feedback is bliss!
Author: kissmeimirish
Rating: R for language and underage sex
Paring: Deamus, totally
Summary: Seamus is having dreams about his best mate. What will happen when some hormones and a certain holiday get in the mix?
Disclaimer: HP and Dean and (sadly) Seamus belong to J.K. Rowling, who never used them to their full potential.
- - - - - - - - - -
I moan as the hands roam over me, caressing my chest, tweaking my hard nipples, gliding down to my stomach and finally to my stiff cock, over the wet tip, and fondling my balls. Now I'm being bent over the edge of my four-poster, naked arse exposed, and those long fingers are stroking me from the inside out, dripping cool lube inside. The fingers left, and I make a small sound of objection, but then something else begins to fill me, long and hard and oh so slick...
I collapsed over the bed as my sweet spot is touched again and again, rubbing me into ecstasy, as the cock moves in and out, in and out.
I murmur and come explosively all over the bedsheets.
I wake up the instant my orgasm stopped. Then I feel the all-to familiar wetness. Fuck. I get out of bed and reach for the box of tissues on my stand- they come in handy for a healthy, horny teenage boy- and mop myself off, sponging most of the mess from the sheets. They'd be clean by tomorrow night anyway.
I wriggle out of my soiled pajama bottoms and slide back into bed, gloomily reflecting that sleep was not going to come back tonight.
The first time this had happened, I'd dismissed it as just another wet dream. The second time, I'd noticed how strong the hands were, cause I was just getting blown. In the third, I actually got fucked, spiking off these- questions.
These past few nights, though, I've seen that not only is there another penis involved, and the hands are masculine, but that the hands are black, and I know them as well as I know my own.
Gay or straight has never really been an issue with me, and, as far as I could tell, neither with Dean. But these things are different when *you* are the possibly gay person, and you are steadily falling in love with your- apparently straight- best friend.
Anyways, Dean has a girlfriend- Ginny Weasley. They've been off and on for about two months now, with some rows in between. Dean never talked about the fights, and no one seemed to ask.
I just bury my head in my pillow, trying to block Dean's face from my mind. Would it always be just a dream?
The next morning's a little tense, because Dean and Ginny had another row, right in the middle of breakfast. They saved the loudest for the corridor outside the Great Hall, but the distance didn't muffle it much.
Dean met up with me outside double History of Magic, looking thunderous and still feeling antisocial. He didn't say a word until the second half of the class, when I pass him a Chocolate Frog under the desk.
"Thanks."
"You look like you could use it."
Dean snorted.
"She's sure got a temper," he mutters around a mouthful of Frog.
"What happened this time?"
"She's accusing me of being in love with someone else."
"No way."
"Yep. Go figure."
"Are you?"
Dean was quiet for a moment, and my heart sped up.
"I don't know," he finally answered. "I'm not sure I'm actually in love with Ginny."
I leave with a small smile, for a reason I don't want to think about.
There's a Quidditch match tonight, Gryffyndor against Hufflepuff. Harry was out on the pitch, making an arse of himself as usual. He's nice and all, but he can be a bit of a prick sometimes. Hopefully it's just hormones.
Dean was sketching Ginny in her robes, tongue between teeth, from the stands. When he finished, he drew a little heart in the corner and waved his wand over the paper. It folded up into a little airplane and obediently fluttered down to hover in front of Ginny's face. She grabbed it, looked it over, then scrunched it up and dropped it. She threw an angry glance up towards the stands, and Dean's face crumpled like his drawing. He packed up his supplies and was about to walk away when I caught the edge of his cloak.
"Hey- where'ye going?"
"Bed."
"Aw, come on- it's barely dark! At least watch the first half with me."
"Shay-"
"I'll get you a butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip."
"All right."
They sat down together to watch the start of the match. I give Dean a piece of Drooble's, and we chew in silence for the first 15 minutes.
"Ginny and you-"
"Dunno."
"You okay?"
I wished I hadn't said it the second it left my mouth. Dean slowly turned to look at me.
*"Okay?"*
"Um-"
"Look, Seamus, not *all* of us are poofs, you know? I'm *just fine!*"
What?
"P-poofs?"
"Yeah, Seamus, *you* are gay and I know it! Don't try to tell me you have no idea!"
I'm stunned. *How did Dean know?*
"Dean-"
"I hear you every night, moaning and rubbing and shit. And you're dreaming about a *man*, Finnigan. *A MAN!*"
"Dean-"
"I'd be fine with it, so long as you don't assume that *all* of us are gay too!"
"Dean- I didn't mean- I'm- I'm sorry, Dean."
"Yeah?"
"Really."
Dean's quiet now. A Bludger soars through the air and hits Harry soundly in the arm.
"Shay- mate- look, *I'm* sorry. I'm still mad at Ginny and all, and you're the closest person I- well, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm really sorry."
I let out my breath. I hadn't realized I was holding it.
"It's- it's okay, Dean. But- well- what- how do you know I dream about a guy?"
Dean makes a face.
"You talk about him fucking you. Fucking you over your bed."
"Did I ever say a name?"
"Dunno. The rest of it's too quiet."
Silence, then I say, "Damn. I never thought I was sleep-talking."
"Scared me to hell and back the first time. Though you brought someone back that we missed," he says, grinning.
I smile back, pretty weakly.
"Dean- um- d'you think the others know?"
"Not really. Neville doesn't, cause he's always snoring like a pig. Ron neither, maybe Harry, but I don't know."
"You- y'know. You won't tell anyone just yet, right?"
"Sure. And Shay-"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to worry about that butterbeer. It'll be the other way 'round."
"Uh- well- thanks, Dean. For everything."
"No problem. We're best mates, right?"
"Right."
"Now let's shut up about out love lives and watch Harry get pummeled."
We watch Gryffyndor scrape by when Harry catches the Snitch. As the first drops of rain pelt down from the sky, we run inside to the common room.
I can't sleep, so I'm sitting in my window, watching the rain track down the pane. I hear the steady breathing of the others, minus Harry, who's in hospital wing with a cracked arm bone (and a fractured ego.) I'm mulling over what Dean said to me earlier, at the pitch, and what it might mean...
*"you're the closest person I- well, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."*
Dean, Dean, Dean. Wish I could tell you that I'm dreaming about you, dreaming about you fucking my tight little arse with your big black cock, fucking coming in me, jerking me off, sucking me-
"Shay?"
I jump and bang my head on the windowsill.
"Sorry. Can't sleep?" It's Dean.
"Naw. You?"
"Too busy watching you."
I blush and my stupid heart skips a beat.
"What's up?" I ask, willing my voice to stay steady.
"I was wondering if you're not sleeping so you won't dream- about him."
"Shit, am I that transparent?"
"It's okay, you know. I don't care if you're having a wet dream about a guy. We're still friends. No matter what."
"You really mean that, Dean?"
"Of course. Gryffyndor's honor."
"Thanks."
"Who were you dreaming about?" he asks.
I knew it was coming, just a matter of time. I had even thought of how to respond, but all of my pre-meditated sentences had fled from my brain.
"Shay?"
"Um- well- see, Dean- it's- um- it's- you."
Dean looked like he had just been run over by the Hogwarts Express. I felt like I wanted to break through the window and plummet down the tower to quietly die in the rain of shame.
*"What?"*
"You, Dean. I've been screwing my sheets to you."
"Um."
There is an uncomfortable silence, and I can almost hear him blushing.
"Well-um- that's really. Um. Unexpected."
"Tell me about it."
And suddenly Dean's giggling, quiet at first, then louder and louder. I start to chuckle as well, and now we're laughing outright, to the sleepy protests of their dormmates.
"S'matter?" groans Ron.
"No-no-nothing," guffaws Dean. "Just something Seamus said. Go back to sleep."
"'K." Ron's snores fill the room again.
"What did I say?" I giggle, when I can talk again.
"Just that last thing- like you're weren't expecting it either."
"I wasn't, really. Just happened one night."
"Hmm. I wonder if something spiked it off?"
"Maybe. That was the night when I was pissing drunk, remember?"
"Oh yeah, the infamous 'When I turn this water into Firewhiskey I'm gonna drink the whole thing in front of you' night."
"Gah, that was horrid."
"That night or the next morning?"
"The next morning. I spent half the day in the toilet."
We giggle a little more, then get serious.
"So, Dean- what now?"
"I dunno, Shay- I really don't know."
"Are you mad?"
"No."
"Are you not gonna hang around me alone anymore? No more midnight prank parties?" I'm really pretty worried.
"Oh, no way, of course we can keep doing all that. I'd seriously miss hanging 'round with you, and I don't think things would change- do you?"
"Dunno. I hope these dreams stop, though. Not sure if I could face you knowing I get off each night to- well- y'know."
"Yeah. Want me to cross my fingers?"
"Think so."
"K."
"D'you wanna go to sleep now?"
"Good idea. See you tomorrow- mate."
"Thanks, Dean. Thanks a million."
"No problem."
I go back to my bed, and drop off to sleep.
There are no dreams that night.
- - - - - - -
The next three weeks pass much the same as always, with pranks and giggles and tossing chips in the others mouth. The only difference is that Seamus's wet dreams have stopped, at least I think they have, and the whole topic of anti-gay jokes are totally out-of-bounds. Not that we ever made many of those anyways.
But something has been brewing in my chest.
I guess I was flattered, you know, that Seamus was getting off to the thought of me- well, whatever I was doing to him. And I was a little shocked, but who wouldn't be?
Something else has been happening too. Something I wasn't gonna say to him that night, when he came out to me. That was awkward enough.
The thing is, I tend to duck into a broom closet or whatever to wank off a few times a week. That isn't so bad, I guess, but lately my- thoughts have tended more towards the masculine side of things. The last time- before That Night- I wanked off to the captain of West Ham, with his muscular thighs and all.
I've been a little scared to do it now, cause I'm worried that instead of football players, I'll see Shay, my best mate, sucking me off or presenting himself to me, that tight little arse in the air-
Oh, God.
Dinner is hell. Almost everything anyone does seems to be loaded. Half the things probably are, knowing the crowd I keep, but I seriously doubt that there's anything sexy about Bubotuber pus uses. Unless you see it as spunk...
Right, well- Valentines Day is soon. I want to make Shay a card or something, something different than our usual sugar overdose and singing along to bad love songs on the wireless.
I hope we don't just skip it this year, cause of all This. It'd be a shame. And who knows, maybe Shay'll do the water into Firewhiskey trick again, and we can share it.
Maybe I'll go ask him.
Hogwarts always had a hormonal undercurrent, but around February 14th, it progresses to a full-fledged tsunami. For the most part, I stay out of it. Anyways, I was obsessing a little over what a Valentine to Shay might say. It'd have to be anonymous, for sure, but on the other side, it could possibly be- well, painful, cause of the whole gay thing. At least, if he thought it was from a girl.
I have a few idea drafted out in my sketchbook, along the lines of "Roses are red, violets are blue, you may not know it, but someone loves you", and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go through with this. Part of me's still whispering that I'm really straight, and this is just a sympathetic reaction to your best mate coming out to me- literally.
Suddenly I realize something. We had never actually addressed that, that Seamus was having wet dreams about *me.*
Why had *I* sprung to mind for Shay's weird nighttime romps? What was I missing here? Does this mean that he's *really*, truly, gay-pride-flag *gay*, or is he just temporarily infatuated with me? I've never know Seamus to take notice of any other guy like that; he's always been the ladies man.
Now the prospect of giving him a Valentine seems a lot less playful.
I clear up my things and head for the bathroom. Hopefully a hot bath will help clear things up. Somehow I get sidetracked hiding from Peeves, and I end up in the Broom Closet of Sexy Thoughts, where I used to wank off, before the West Ham football player scare. Unfortunately, my body remembers that it got a treat when we came here, and immediately springs to attention.
I curse under my breath and sat down on some crates to review my options. I could sit here and think about frog guts until my stiffie went away, I could try and make to the bathroom for a cold shower without anyone noticing that my dick was reaching for the sky, or I could just wank off now and get it over with. All three are pretty uncomfortable, for a couple reasons.
Then I hear someone else breathing.
I reach for my wand and back towards the door. "Lumos."
"Shite."
I would know that voice anywhere, with it's little Irish lilt that was really quite cute.
"Seamus? That you?"
"No, it's feckin' Viktor Krum." He's standing in the corner, trying very hard to disappear into the stone.
"What are you doing?"
And then I see that he's pulled his trousers up in a hurry, and the bit of pants showing through his fly is damp.
"Fuck, Dean. I didn't know you came here."
I blush a little at his choice of words.
"Same here. Why?"
"Stops those dreams. Thought you'd be more comfortable."
"You don't have to do this for me, mate."
I wait for him to say that it's for him, too- but it never comes.
"Shay?"
"Yeah?" He's looking at the floor, hands in his pockets.
"Did you like those dreams?"
Deep breath. Seamus's voice is quiet.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
A wash of emotions breaks over me, and I get the odd feeling of being right.
"Um." Yeah, really eloquent, Dean.
"Gonna punch me out now?" he asks.
And then I know exactly what I want to do.
I move towards him, extinguish my wand, and bend slightly to kiss him passionately on the mouth.
He emits a squeak, and I pull back, embarrassed. I hear him lick his lips, tasting me. Then his arms are around me, drawing me closer. We kiss again, deep and long, mouths opening bit by bit until we're being fairly sloppy, but the fire in my belly is growing hotter and hotter, and my chest feels like it's going to explode when he sucks my tongue.
We're grinding our erections together, and Shay had pulled down our trousers and pants, skin against skin, thrusting, stroking, all the while devouring the other's mouth.
I push him down on the crates and kneel between his legs. His breath hitches and he whispers, "Dean- you don't have to-"
"Shut up, Shay, I want to do this too."
He leans back and I find his thigh in the dark, exploring. They aren't like a football players; they're smooth and still a little boyish. I dance my fingers up his inner thigh and follow closely with my mouth, kissing a line up to his balls, licking here and there. Seamus moans and I smile, knowing that I have the power to turn him inside out.
"Dean- Dean, stop."
I freeze, sure that I've gone too far. He reaches for his wand- God, is he gonna hex me?
But he points it at the door and whispers an advanced double-locking spell instead.
"Where'd you learn that?" I ask, bemused.
"Read a book over the summer."
"Seamus Finnigan read a book? Unbelievable. Now, where were we?"
I return my attention to his balls. His cock twitches as I start to lick my way up to his shaft, and kiss my way along his hard length.
When I reach the head, I taste the salty precome and envelop him in my mouth.
"*Fuck*, Dean!" he hisses, arching his back. I just keep twirling my tongue around his cock, sucking and lapping in turn. Shay's hips jerk, he whispers my name, and a salty wetness fills my mouth.
I swallow it- what else am I gonna do?- and pull back. I lick him clean, feeling my own cock leaking onto the floor.
"Damn...Dean, that was-"
I kiss him so he'll shut up.
- - - - - - - - - - -
This is unbelievable.
Dean just sucked me off in a broom cupboard.
He kissed me *first*.
He found out I like him.
I found out he likes me.
Damn.
Tomorrow is Valentine's day. I wonder what we'll do.
God, what *am* I gonna do? Give him a card that says, "Thanks for sucking me off, Happy Valentines"?
We get a trip to Hogsmeade instead of studies, as it's on a weekend this year. I'll split some candy with him like always, then what? Is he gonna try to stick a Jelly Slug up my arse?
Hey...
We all wake up at about 5 am, due to Neville having a nightmare that he's spending today with Snape, who tries to slip him some love potion. He was a gibbering wreck, so I turned his jug of water into Firewhiskey (*without* burning my eyebrows off, thank you very much) and he glugged some down.
Harry and Ron disappeared early on to find prospective dates, probably a pint or dozen, and Neville staggered off outside after drinking too much. Dean and me are alone in the room.
We look at each other, still in our pajamas. My dick starts to get hard.
"So- what d'you wanna do?" I ask.
"Dunno. You?"
"Mmm... maybe- d'you wanna stay here or go to Hogsmeade?"
"Hogsmeade first, then come back early?"
"Sounds good. But before we go, why don't you let me take care of that little issue of yours?"
I gesture to Dean's rapidly tenting bottoms. He looks at me for a moment, and then we're all
over each other, mouths open, hands groping. We manage to make it to his bed before our legs give out, and now we're all over each other, hands between legs, wanking each other off.
And then it's over, spunk overflowing everywhere as we groan into each other's mouth.
We kiss again, clean up, and go out.
Hogsmeade is packed with students, most cuddling and shacked up, especially in that Madame Puddifoot's or whatever that hell is. We walk kinda close together, not so close that people get ideas- I'm not sure if Dean's ready for that just yet- but close enough so that we can hold hands under out cloaks.
We stop at Honeydukes to get some chocolate and Sugar Quills, and I get a little sack of cream puffs and, yes, Jelly Slugs. You never know.
We skip the Three Broomsticks, as it's absolutely packed, and go back up to the castle. On the way, when no one was around, we kinda hug as we walk, with a quick kiss every few steps. It's wonderful.
All those surging emotions and hormones make sure we both have a stiffie when we get back. We head straight for our room, where we dump our cloaks and make it past the first Chocolate Frog and nip of Firewhiskey before we're snogging for Ireland again. We strip off slowly, enjoying out freedom, savoring every look.
Dean's on his back on my bed, looking up at me. The pupils in his beautiful eyes are dilated, and his mouth is slightly open, breath ragged. I've never seen such a hard-on.
I take out a cream puff and smile when his eyes widen. I move slowly until I'm straddling his lower torso, just above his cock. I don't put my full weight on him, just break the puff and spread a blob of cream on each hard nipple.
I dump the shell and lean forward to lick the sweet whiteness from his ebony skin. Lick, lick, lick. At the last few strokes of my tongue, he whimpers, and I feel his cock jump against my arse.
I smile mischievously and reach for my secret stash of Muggle lube. Dean shuts his eyes as I turn around to grease his cock with long, slow strokes.
I help him sit up, his strong back against a bedpost and draw the curtains. We kiss again, and then I lean back against my pillows, and spread my legs, bent at the knee.
"Fuck, Shay- I mean- *fuck.*"
"Like what you see?"
"Fuck."
"C'mere and I'll show you 'fuck'," I whisper.
"Sassy Irish."
He moves forward with the lube. I close my eyes as I feel his slick fingers slide into my arse, coating the inside in cool gel.
Now it's my turn to whisper, "fuck," as he reaches my sweet spot.
"Dean- Dean, fuck me, Dean."
He slips out his fingers, and as I open my eyes, I see the tip of his long black cock start to disappear into my pale arse.
"*Fuck!*"
He's almost all the way into me now, and it feels better than I could ever have imagined. Better even than in my dreams. Oh, Dean...
He stops and looks at me when he's buried to the hilt.
"God, Shay- you look so *hot* right now."
"Wha- what do you mean?" I'm fucking panting.
"Just- with your face like that, and your hair messed up- and you're so *hard*... hard for me?"
"You know I am."
"Want more?"
"Gah, *fuck* me, Dean!"
He obliges, thrusting slow and gentle at first, then faster and harder. He leans forward, still pushing into me, and we snog like it's our first time again- all sloppy and, well, sexy.
It's not long before my brain fries in pleasure and I come all over our stomachs, making Dean moan. An odd sensation fills my arse, like reverse coming, and it's only when Dean's spunk drips out my arse do I realize that I made him come.
He pulls out and flops down beside me. We kiss again, though we're too tired to do much, and mop ourselves up. We curl up together and we're smiling, drifting off to sleep, holding on to each other. *This is love.*
And after all, I've still got those Jelly Slugs.
Fin- for now. ;P
feedback! here or at bugzaboo (at) gmail (dot) com
I'm working on a sequel right now! Please R&R, feedback is bliss!
I'm Back! (finally)
Hey all,
New ficcys, and I've got one from a new fandom I've been turned on to. It's called Deamus, it's from Harry Potter, and it's- you guessed it- Seamus\Dean.
*falls out of chair giggling in happiness*
Seamus is pretty cute anyways, but when you're writing about them, you get so much closer to the characters.
Anyway, here is the Trek:
- - - - - - -
Author: Spockoid 31
Title: Want You Home
Rating: I don't know. PG-13?
Disclaimer: Paraborg owns Trek but not my imagination. Sue me.
Pairing: S\Mc (implied)
Summary: When Spock flees to Gol, McCoy remembers their happier days. Angst.
R&R, please. bugzaboo (at) gmail (dot) com or at spockoidsvulcanromance.blogspot.com
This may fall under the heading Drabble, but I'm not sure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Love?
Don't talk to me about love.
Don't ask me about love.
Don't even *think* about love in my presence.
'Cause that's something that's way to painful for me now.
Ever since that pointy-eared, green-blooded bastard went running off to Gol, to the terribly stony arms of Kohlinar, I've been alone and loveless.
Dammit, I thought I knew better. Knew better that to go prodding for emotions- especially ones that strong- in a Vulcan. Knew better that to fall into that trap, again.
Spock.
Sometimes, at night, I let myself relive our nights- and days- together. On nights when I've had to much brandy and I'm feeling particularly lonely. I drift off into my memories of you- of us.
Vulcan, after you were rejected by that horrible Vulcan bitch, when you stumbled into sickbay, still in the clutches of the plak tow. The first time we made love...
Jim's birthday, that party when you introduced me to Vulcan alcohol and the whole crew found out about my love for you. And the next morning when I woke up in your bed, in your arms, with the hangover from hell, you introduced me to your Vulcan hangover remedy.
And the time your pon farr came four years to early; a test of your tradition and my strength.
The night on Risa, in the pink morning sun, cuddling in the sheets. The first time I ever saw you smile that tiny little smile of yours, the one that always set a tiny spark of hope alight in my heart. The hope that maybe you weren't as cold as you always led us to believe.
Was I wrong?
Were you wrong?
Were we all wrong?
I don't know.
I don't know if I want to know, now that you've gone.
I miss you, Spock. Damned nuisance that you were.
I wish you were back here. With me.
Home.
New ficcys, and I've got one from a new fandom I've been turned on to. It's called Deamus, it's from Harry Potter, and it's- you guessed it- Seamus\Dean.
*falls out of chair giggling in happiness*
Seamus is pretty cute anyways, but when you're writing about them, you get so much closer to the characters.
Anyway, here is the Trek:
- - - - - - -
Author: Spockoid 31
Title: Want You Home
Rating: I don't know. PG-13?
Disclaimer: Paraborg owns Trek but not my imagination. Sue me.
Pairing: S\Mc (implied)
Summary: When Spock flees to Gol, McCoy remembers their happier days. Angst.
R&R, please. bugzaboo (at) gmail (dot) com or at spockoidsvulcanromance.blogspot.com
This may fall under the heading Drabble, but I'm not sure.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Love?
Don't talk to me about love.
Don't ask me about love.
Don't even *think* about love in my presence.
'Cause that's something that's way to painful for me now.
Ever since that pointy-eared, green-blooded bastard went running off to Gol, to the terribly stony arms of Kohlinar, I've been alone and loveless.
Dammit, I thought I knew better. Knew better that to go prodding for emotions- especially ones that strong- in a Vulcan. Knew better that to fall into that trap, again.
Spock.
Sometimes, at night, I let myself relive our nights- and days- together. On nights when I've had to much brandy and I'm feeling particularly lonely. I drift off into my memories of you- of us.
Vulcan, after you were rejected by that horrible Vulcan bitch, when you stumbled into sickbay, still in the clutches of the plak tow. The first time we made love...
Jim's birthday, that party when you introduced me to Vulcan alcohol and the whole crew found out about my love for you. And the next morning when I woke up in your bed, in your arms, with the hangover from hell, you introduced me to your Vulcan hangover remedy.
And the time your pon farr came four years to early; a test of your tradition and my strength.
The night on Risa, in the pink morning sun, cuddling in the sheets. The first time I ever saw you smile that tiny little smile of yours, the one that always set a tiny spark of hope alight in my heart. The hope that maybe you weren't as cold as you always led us to believe.
Was I wrong?
Were you wrong?
Were we all wrong?
I don't know.
I don't know if I want to know, now that you've gone.
I miss you, Spock. Damned nuisance that you were.
I wish you were back here. With me.
Home.
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