"Shay…I think...I might really love her."
Seamus Finnegan walked the grounds of Hogwarts, alone and inconsolable, as his best mate's words replayed over and over again in his head. Mocking him, humiliating him, torturing him with the knowledge that Dean Thomas, the boy he'd been hopelessly love with for 3 years, didn't love him back.
With a sad sigh, he remembered Dean's brown face as it had appeared that morning in the Gryffindor common room. Handsome, dimpled, and pressed lovingly against the blushing cheek of Ginny Weasley. How happy he'd looked! How happy she'd looked, all snuggled up and warm in Dean's protective embrace.
Cunt. Seamus had thought, glaring enviously from his end of the room, far away from their sickening affection. Whore. Bitch. Dung swallowing slut.
The endless stream of mental insults had done little to make him feel better, because, whether he liked it or not, she was the one holding onto Dean. She was the one he cared about, she was the one he loved, and Seamus couldn't change that.
Oh sure, he'd been on a few dates himself. Parvati Patil, Romilda Vane, even Hermione Granger. Each had been the object of his affection at one time or another. But it had all been proved pointless when, halfway through 3rd year, he realized he was gay. A very masculine gay, mind you, but gay nonetheless, and for one boy in particular. A boy who didn't feel the same way.
Putting his hurt aside, Seamus finally arrived at his destination: the Quidditch team dressing rooms.
A bulky lock was positioned on the door, and as he whipped out his wand, Seamus wondered if it had been protectively charmed against magic. If it had, then the moody young man's trip would be pointless, and he'd have ditched a highly important Transfiguration exam for nothing.
With that in mind, Seamus determinedly took aim.
"Alohomora." He whispered.
There was a moment of silence.
*click*
Raising his eyebrows at the ease with which he was breaking into a school facility, he wondered if he was forgetting something. This was Hogwarts for Merlin's sake! Surely there was a trick to it.
He carefully took a step inside. Then another, and another, until he was completely through the entrance and standing in a hallway filled with Quidditch memorabilia.
The smiling faces of Quidditch teams long disassembled peered at him with curious amusement, winking occasionally. We know what you're up to, they seemed to say.
Ignoring them, Seamus continued his intrusion further and further until he approached the dressing chambers. With a stanch determination, he put his hand on the doorknob, and moved to push it open.
Inside, a row of Quidditch robes hung directly in front of him, with the names of their owners written in gold. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell/b…the names continued on and on, with Seamus becoming increasingly impatient, until finally, second to last, the name Dean Thomas/b beckoned from a position too high for him to reach. Without thinking, Seamus pulled out his wand and gave it a flick.
"Accio robes!"
Instantly (and very loudly), seven robes flew from their respective racks and aisles, pummeling the Irishman. Pushing the unexpectedly heavy load off of himself, Seamus sorted through the pile and pulled Dean's uniform. He pressed it to his face and breathed deeply, taking in comforting, masculine scent that was undeniably Dean. He stuffed it into his bag.
The houseleves hadn't gotten to this one.
He left the others on the ground, but gave special attention to Ginny's. With a sneer, he removed it from the lot, and took aim.
"Incineratio."
The smell of burning wool and leather began to permeate the air, and with that, he left.
"Shit…"
Seamus gripped the sheets of his bed tightly with one hand, until his knuckles were white from the stress. With the other, he indulged in a vicious game of self torture, alternating between long, tantalizing strokes of his cock, and short, repeated bursts of lust-driven desperation, bringing him to the very edge of control, but never allowing himself to come. As another wave of self-denying ecstasy hit him, he pressed his face into the stolen Quidditch robes, now being used as a make-shift pillowcase. Greedily indulging in the mixed smells of sweat, paint, and grass, he let a small moan slip through his lips now and again, imagining with all his might a pair of dark slender fingers caressing him, instead of his own freckled hands. Even then, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. He needed more.
Experimentally, he halted the ministrations of his leaking manhood, and allowed his moistened hand to traverse further down, all the way to his puckered entrance. The young wizard hesitated for a moment, then took another breath of Dean-flavored air, gently pressing in with his index and middle fingers.
There was slight discomfort, and for a moment he considered pulling out, but went on, until the long and calloused digits were completely inside of him.
It hurt when he made his first movements, but as he adapted to the feel of it, Seamus slowly caught on to the rhythm of his body, making small, side-to-side motions within himself.
It was incredible how good it felt. When the fingering became rougher and even more mind-numbingly pleasure-filled, he knew he wouldn't be able to go much longer without coming. Frantically, he started pumping himself.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck- fuck!" he howled, not caring or remembering that classes were bound to have ended by now, and that people were returning to the common rooms.
His entire body shook, and he finally released, spilling warm, built-up amounts of seed onto his stomach and bed sheets. Basking in the afterglow, he was still for a marvelous five minutes, before the sound of other students entering the common room forced him to get up.
In a daze, Seamus wiped himself off with Dean's robes, then stuffed them haphazardly into an empty dresser.
I'm working on the next part right now, but REVIEWS (good or bad) are always a massive inspiration to me! Thanks for reading!