- - - - - - - - - "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!