idea_of_sarcasm: (twinklestar)
idea_of_sarcasm ([personal profile] idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2008-09-13 02:29 pm

Fic: Out in the Open. *Adult* Dean/Seamus

Title: Out in the Open
Author: [ profile] idea_of_sarcasm
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3800
Warnings: Wanking
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: A potion and a game lead to revelations Seamus never intended to make
Author's Notes: Written for [ profile] ozma_katiebell in the [ profile] hp_summersmut exchange. My first 'real' foray into writing slash.

It had all started with a game of truth or dare.

Usually those things were innocent enough – a few titillating questions about sex, embarrassing secrets from the past, and a dare or two that usually involved a bit of nudity and kissing random members of the group. Well, save the time back at Hogwarts Seamus had been dared to steal Snape's underwear from his chambers – he was fairly sure his hand still hurt from the multiple detentions that earned. Still, all in all games like that didn't lead to life changing events, or revelations outside of the fact that if one had to shag one of the Hogwarts professors, then Charity Burbidge wasn't that bad a sort. If the choice was truth and a question led too close to an issue one didn't want revealed, you blatantly lied and that was the end of that – simple and innocent.

And this time it would have been the same – except for one little change.

A half bottle of veritaserum Harry had been made to brew as part of auror training as an interrogation tool, and just happened to still be in the pocket of his robes.

They might have protested they were too old for the game, this was no longer the Gryffindor common room, it was the lot of them gathered at the Leaky to try and give Hannah Abbot a little business – but they'd all imbibed more than a few drinks, and when it was revealed what Harry had, the idea was made all the more alluring, though when Hannah had come over she had outlawed the 'dare' part in her pub. Well, Seamus personally had vacillated because he was fairly sure he hadn't told a complete truth a single day in his entire life, but acting the coward just wasn't done – so he'd taken his dose when his turn had come around, and hoped his luck would hold out like it had most of his life. Hermione was the only one who'd opted out of her own free will on a claim of moral indignation over the potion, and Ron had joined her at the next table with a heavy sigh, though looked longingly over repeatedly.

It had started easy enough, the standard questions that were a bit more revealing when everybody was telling the whole truth so help them Merlin, but things had shifted. Seamus supposed he could pinpoint the start of his unfortunate decline to the moment Neville had asked him what his happiest memory was. They had of course all taken the piss for the poncy question, but it had still stood and Seamus had been required to answer. He would have given a different response if not for the potion, but as it was, admitting the moment he saw Dean alive and well after being on the run for months wasn't that revealing an answer. They were mates after all, best mates, it was to be expected he would have been concerned.

Even sober he probably wouldn't have noticed the glint that sprang into Lavender Brown's eye – not evil, but calculating, and enough to suggest she wasn't going to let it die there – and drunk, he certainly didn't.

It had become obvious she was after some kind of specific truth, because every time her turn came around she went after him – all along the same lines regarding if he fancied someone, how much, and so on. The last question had been the most damning however, the one that he would have given anything to avoid answering, and would have happily killed Lavender in that moment when she leaned forward nearing the end of the night, staring at him intently and asking whose mental image he wanked to most often.

Merlin but he'd wanted to say Gwenog Jones – or even Katie Bell who'd been featured on the cover of Quidditch Weekly the month before as an up and coming chaser. He'd have preferred to say Lavender herself, maybe even Ginny or Hermione even if it would have earned him a loss of Ron or Harry as a friend. Anything in fact but the actual truth. Still, the potion wouldn't let him renege, and though he tried to fashion the first word into anything else with all of his faculties, the magic wouldn't let him.

And when the answer of 'Dean' had been given, it had shut them all up rather quickly, though they'd all covered their shock with weak jokes afterwards.

Seamus hadn't been able to look at his best mate – and oh, weren't they all aware of the fact they were flat mates as well - the rest of the night, except sneaking glances, but they hadn't told him a bloody thing. Dean had taken the joshing well, but never said anything to Seamus, and never looked at him either, not really. And when last call came, he'd mentioned tersely he was going to walk home rather than apparate, suggesting rather strongly he'd rather be doing it alone. It had been enough to give Seamus a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, more than firewhiskey and the Guinness combined.

It was also what had led him up to the current point, laying wide awake in his bed and waiting for his flatmate to come home, pondering if everything was now entirely fucked.

Since chances seemed that things really were.

So what if he fancied Dean Thomas? It had never mattered before. Wasn't like he tried to do nefarious things to his best friends arse without his consent, or torment him with mentions of feelings of abiding affection. He treated him like he was just that, a best mate, and didn't even begrudge the birds that paraded through his friends life instead of him. After all he recognized how bloody brilliant Dean was – why shouldn't others? Besides, just because he seemed a little bit bent didn't mean his friend was, as the presence of those said birds suggested. Just because he wanked to the thought of his friends face and smooth black skin, deep voice and nice build, didn't mean Dean had given his freckled Irish arse a second thought in that respect – and that was fine, not ideal, but fine.

Really, so what then – except Lavender Brown had blown it all out in the open. It didn't matter if she'd intended it cruelly, or done it with good intentions, the outcome was the same.

Dean knew.

Dean was probably disgusted, appalled, repelled, shocked, disturbed, creeped out, uncomfortable...

Really, Seamus could come up with a lot of likely adjectives, none of them positive. The gist of it was, it mattered now, oh how did it matter now.

When the sound of the door opening and closing came, seemingly loud in the still flat, Seamus held his breath, and then released it with the nothing that came. He didn't know what he had been expecting. Maybe a flurry of activity with Dean scrambling to move out, maybe a fight, just something to suggest that Dean took exception to the fact his best mate had the best wanks of his life to the very thought of him. Still, he wasn't going to get that. It was likely going to be a more drawn out process it seemed. Dean would try co-existing with him for awhile, though everything would change for him, and he'd realize within a month he was so uncomfortable he'd rather go back to living with his smothering mother and siblings than share a flat with Seamus.

It sounded like such a pleasant prospect.

He was about to settle into an uncomfortable sleep when the knock on his door came, followed by Dean sticking his head into the bedroom.

"You have a minute?" He asked, seemingly nervous.

Seamus could only nod in return, expecting the things that hadn't happened initially.

All that happened in the moment though was Dean coming to stand at the foot of the bed. He seemed about to say something, but then hesitated, grasping onto the bottom posts of the bed. Again, he opened his mouth, but stopped, starting to pace back and forth, saying nothing while Seamus just watched and stared – well aware he was starkers under the quilt, though glad for once nerves and worry were keeping his cock relatively behaved for once. Usually billowing wizarding robes were lovely when it came to being around Dean these days. Tight muggle clothes, not so much.

"You wank to the thought of me." Dean made the statement all of a sudden, surprising Seamus, but didn't add anything else.

Hesitantly, Seamus nodded. "I think I made that more than bloody obvious, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" That seemed to take Dean aback.

"Well, yeah," Seamus said, confused, "unfortunately. I mean, 'tis unfortunate, isn't it? Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable mate, so I...yeah. I mean it's one thing if a bird tells you she fondles herself to the thought of you, another if it's one of your best mates. Well, suppose there's a circumstance where that might be creepy too, not that I can think of one right off. So...unfortunate, yeah?"

Dean hesitated, "I suppose."

Seamus was confused as bloody hell. Still, he forged on, like Dean's reaction made sense, and was more like the one he expected. "Listen mate, I'm not...I mean, I won't...I'll start wanking to that pin-up of Gwenog Jones, yeah? It's just wanking, it changes nothing. Not like I've ever had forceful designs on your arse, and I won't try to in the near future. "

"Changes a lot," he'd muttered it under his breath, and then louder said, "and I know you wouldn't you tosser, if not for the fact I could bloody flatten you. Listen Shay, I know I should be a bit weirded out, but..."

There was never a finish to that sentence, and Seamus just watched him for a moment with eyebrow raised. The 'but' seemed to reverberate around the room, and tease him for a moment, even though it might mean nothing. Dean seemed incredibly uncomfortable, and didn't seem on the verge of saying anything else, so Seamus prompted, "But..."

"But," Dean continued, "but...well, bloody hell, here's the way it is. I should be a little freaked, I should be everything like that. But here's the thing – I walked home, and I thought about it, expecting to work myself into a lather about exactly how this was a bit creepy. About how I wouldn't know how to act around you with you being bent. Thing is though, I don't think if I was really weirded out, I'd get so fucking aroused at the idea of you wanking to me." His last words came out in a rush, like he had to get them out before he lost the stamina and the courage.

"You got...?" Seamus couldn't quite finish it.

"Aroused," the word wasn't quite as hesitant this time.

It was a development he hadn't been expecting all around, and it seemed all of a sudden important to clarify, "And that means..."

"Don't know exactly," Dean said with a bit of a laugh, "just...either it's one bloody powerful of suggestion you gave me, or I'm a bit of a poof too. I've never really thought about it Seamus, but...hell, you're kind of it, you know? Remember Ginny? I think those days I still managed to spend more time with you than with her, and wanted to spend time with you. I thought the way I feel...I chalked it up to being best mates, you know? You're allowed to care for your friends, blokes or no. Now though, the thing is, all of a sudden, all I couldn't stop thinking about something besides that affection – I started thinking about kissing you, about the image of you wanking in your bed to me, and I got..."

"...aroused," Seamus finished his sentence for him, inserting the word used before.

Dean nodded, "So apparently I'm a poof."

"You decided that on the walk home?" His question was dubious.

The other boy rolled his eyes, "No...well, I mean, sort of, a thing long time in coming it seems? I just...this would be a lot easier to say if I still had the dose of the veritaserum working, but I wanked in a quiet alley okay? To you. To…see. To test or something. And I hope to God the charm I put up to shield me worked. And it just made me realize that I'm well…for lack of a better word, a poof. Much as I've wanted to deny it before."

For the first time Seamus really allowed himself to hope. Not that he thought things were just that easy – it had taken him years to come to terms with fancying his mate, was something, it was a lot. He felt a grin sliding into place – not of mocking, though the idea of the quiet and relatively proper Dean Thomas wanking in an alley was amusing – but one of happiness. "Don't think we're poofs," he said lightly, latching onto the word Dean had used, that the other boy hadn't seemed exactly comfortable with.

"No?" Dean arched an eyebrow, "I well...I think that's the definition I just described..."

Seamus shook his head, "Nah, I’m just a bloke who fancies Dean Thomas, who just happens to be a bloke as well. Not like the sight of pricks in the locker room ever did it for me."

The other boy paused to consider it, "Does sound better. I fancy Seamus Finnigan, and would fancy him even if he came in different packaging." He gave a small smile, "Sounds like an alcoholic anonymous meeting..." at Seamus blank look he cut himself off, "never mind. Muggle thing."

It was all a bit ridiculous, having a conversation like this one, defining things, but in truth what the hell else were they supposed to say? Right now Dean was looking at him expectantly, and it seemed like a momentous occasion, them both admitting this to each other – this mutual 'fancying', but he had no idea how to commemorate it. Even if Dean wanted to, he wasn't sure he felt comfortable just getting up and giving him a kiss. Wasn't like he'd done this before after all, he'd just fantasized about it, and fantasy was a lot different then reality. It seemed too like it…meant something, should mean something, and it would be awkward in the moment.

And if nothing else, he was still starkers under the quilt, and his cock wasn't sitting complacently anymore.

A look had come over Dean's face though, one that was embarrassed and flushed with desire all at once, "Can I see?" His question was hoarse.

"Can you see what?" Seamus asked stupidly.

Dean rolled his eyes, and it was nice because this was the dynamic between them, not stiltingly awkward or weird – and a lot of tolerant amusement on Dean's part when it came to him. "You perform magic tricks. No I...I want to see you wank you prat." And now that flushed and desiring look was back, "It...I want to see, I have to, if it's what I imagined. Not just using you, but if my response is the might be too fast, I'm sorry, but..." His hesitancy was obvious, and he was shite at explaining it properly it seemed, but Seamus didn't much really care.

"No," Seamus licked his lips as he spoke quickly, "not too fast."

It was odd because it should seem too fast, but this was somehow safer than an intimacy of a kiss, or the much deeper intimacy of fucking. This was…separate. This was just like wanking himself every other night, except this time the vision was real instead of in his head. Dean in the flesh instead of Dean in his mind. And his nudity had never really bothered him, much to the consternation of his dorm mates, though he'd switched to covering whenever Dean was in the room, or he saw something of Dean's, or he thought about Dean. Even emotionally stunted blokes could notice a raging erection that was seemingly unexplainable, though his favourite excuse was something to do with he'd just thought of Angelina Johnson whipping him into "shape".

He didn't let himself think reasonably, just slowly drew down the covers, looking at Dean the whole time. It was so much easier than trying to see him in his mind's eye. If he let reason into the picture Seamus knew what he should do was tell Dean to shove off and they'd talk in the morning. You really didn't change your whole world view in a single night, even if you claimed there was a little something there before. However Dean had asked, and Seamus pretty much always said yes to Dean.

Plus, he really wanted to.

It was different with Dean there, in the actions. Usually wanking was a frantic affair, scared to do it in case Dean came home, scared his muffliato wouldn't work and his mate would come home to Seamus moaning his name. It wasn't erotic, it was all need, over and done with. Satisfying, but there was only fantasy, and it seemed wrong somehow to put words and actions into his mate's mouth that he was sure that would never come. The thought of him was enough, and of what Seamus could do himself rather than the other way around. With Dean there it was all different, and he bit his lip as he forced himself not to just reach for his cock and jerk off in the span of a few seconds.

His fingers danced lightly along the skin of his belly, skimming and playing, hardening his erection to an almost painful state without even touching it. It was so much easier to get in the 'mood', to get into the fantasy, with the image of Dean willing and ready in front of him - and it was easier to let the image of Dean in his fantasy become a willing participant

Dean torturing him, when he knows all Seamus wants is to bloody come, smiling triumphantly as the gasp he earns just by the light use of his fingers.

His hand slid over the shaft of his cock, touching lightly, sliding.

Dean's hand, sliding, caressing lightly from the base of his cock up – teasing him while he murmurs his name in his ear. Words that came, not of poetry – but basic and carnal, all amounting to how much he wanted to touch him, and wanted to fuck him

His hand had created a firmer grip, jerking and quick.

The act is almost violent as Dean tugs on his cock – he's not scared to touch it, because he knows what it can take. He mutters in Seamus' ear this isn't what it would be like with a bird, they wouldn't know, they would be so very gentle. It would never be the same with them anyway, because they weren't Dean, even if they could learn. It's like an order when he tells Seamus to just fucking come.

And Seamus did. He moaned Dean's name as he came apart, spurting all over his hand, body and bedspread in the end. He didn't temper it, because he didn't have to be embarrassed about it, not anymore. It wasn't a secret to be kept just to him. He'd meant it to go slower, to be of sorts, but he was too close just from the sight of Dean's eyes on him. His eyes closed as he tugged a few last times, and Seamus was almost scared to open them afterwards.

Scared that maybe it was too fast.

Scared that maybe despite the words to the contrary Dean was weirded out, and Dean had left.

Scared again that it was all going to change everything for the worse rather than for the better.

When he opened his eyes though, Dean was still standing there, and there was no disgust in his expression – only a look of naked lust, his own cock in his hand which Seamus hadn't even noticed, having jerked himself off in a much less erotic fashion.

"Bloody hell," Dean's exclamation mirrored his own thought, and though it didn't seem Dean thought it a mistake, and Seamus didn't think it a mistake either, they both seemed a little bashful as they reached for their wands to clean up.

It should have been more awkward then it had been after that. Rather than going back to his own room, Dean slid into bed beside Seamus - though over the covers he pulled back up to his waist rather than under. "We're going to have to talk," Seamus said, though the idea was distasteful, analyzing things not really something he cared for.

It was hardly romantic, but it didn't seem the time for pillow talk. Nor did Seamus really think it ever would be. He might fancy Dean, and even if Dean really did fancy him back, they weren't birds. They weren't going to murmur sweet nothings in each others ear. They were..well, if things went ideally -mates with sex, or at least mates with sexual activity. That sounded much more bloody brilliant than the traditional idea of a relationship.

"Maybe," Dean said with a shrug, leaning back against a spare pillow, "or we could just...see."

It wouldn't be that easy, considering others knew things now, at least Seamus' side, but he was content to leave it be. Neither of them seemed inclined to sleep in the moment, and neither seemed ready to kiss, a seeming contradiction considering what they had just done, but it made sense to Seamus at least. At least in a convoluted sort of way. Kind of like the way the prostitutes from Knockturn Alley wouldn't kiss on the mouth because it was too intimate. Not that he knew from personal experience of course, but it was the only way Marcus Flint had ever got another living soul to sleep with him, and he had talked more – and more loudly – than he really ought to.

"So," Dean interjected, raising an eyebrow and looking at Seamus, "your favourite memory is of me coming back safe and sound?"

He flushed more at that then the fact he'd just wanked in front of his friend, "So, what of it?"

"Nothing," Dean was the picture of innocence, "that's really...sweet."

"Oh shove off," Seamus was cross.

"No really," he said, "sweet. Really sweet. Adorable even." And at the wide grin that spread across his face, Seamus knew he was getting to his real intent of bringing the topic up, "Sure you're not a stereotypical poof, mate? Or a bird in disguise?"

It degraded from there, into a flurry of fists and threatened hexes, and a few good whacks with a pillow too. At least it wasn't awkward though, at least they could joke about it. Seamus might have felt a good amount of relief at that.

If he hadn't been taking so much satisfaction from his fist connecting with Dean's stomach.


[identity profile] 2008-09-14 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
I love this so much, particularly the fear of kissing!
You rock!
Thanks again!
ext_23449: Book addict icon (point eyes)

[identity profile] 2008-09-14 05:15 am (UTC)(link)
You're welcome, again ;) lol. Still, I'm really glad you enjoyed it, as I always get amazingly nervous with fest fic.