Seamus is a Slutmuffin

Chapter 4: Moth to the Flame
Seamus/Theo Nott.
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Seamus Finnigan was really quite proud of himself. Three weeks, it had been three weeks, three weeks of Blaise in the corridors and classrooms, three weeks of being drawn away from his friends by a confidant sneer and slanting gaze. Three weeks and, although there were rumours-when where there not rumours?-nobody actually knew anything. Nobody but he and Blaise and Neville, whom Seamus had told after his first encounter with the dangerously sexy Zabini. The entire affair made Seamus feel powerful.

But power was all too easy to flaunt.

No one was off-limits anymore, he’d bedded down with Blaise Zabini, what wizard was beyond his flirting? More often then not, Seamus wouldn’t even realise that he had done it, leaned too close to whisper some nonsense in a faceless ear, smiled a little too suggestively when an unintentional innuendo was made, winked at the wrong moment, but a few times he went out of his way to flirt. Like with the instance of Theodore Nott.
A Slytherin, a skinny little prick, dark hair, dark eyes, pale and tall; he was quiet by trade, never really speaking out, but there was that undeniable air of snotty confidence surrounding him. All Slytherins seemed to have it. It drew Seamus in like a moth to the flame.

Three weeks into Seamus’ inconsistent romps with Blaise, the Irishman set his sights on the pale, dark haired Slytherin. He had caught the boy staring at him one day in Herbology, dark eyes reflecting confusion and disbelief. He’d obviously been talking to Malfoy or maybe to Blaise…Seamus crinkled his nose. No, Blaise wasn’t the type to kiss and tell-or in this case fuck and tell-he was more refined, he conquered only to conquer, not to brag, bragging made him seem like a whore and everyone knew Blaise never wanted to be compared to his mother. Malfoy was more likely. It was that day that Seamus had taken an interest in Nott.

Interest soon turned to obsession as Seamus soon found himself watching the boy constantly, from breakfast in the Great Hall to scoping him out in the halls when heading to the common room for bed. Luckily, none of his friends seemed to notice. They were all too busy with their own lives, Harry had his Triwizard Tournament, Ron was PMS-ing over the littlest of things, Dean was happy to have his best mate back but was beginning to talk more and more about the Weasly brat, Ginny, Neville was well…Neville was Neville. Occasionally he and Neville would meet in closets or classrooms to…talk, but he found his time being eaten up more by Blaise and school work and watching Nott. Neville didn’t seem to mind too much.

“Have you figured out a way to get him alone yet?” The unexpected, silken voice of Blaise traipsed across the outer shell of Seamus’ ear, causing him to shiver unintentionally. They were in the Library. Public. Blaise generally ignored him in public. Seamus was surprised.

“Excuse me?”

“Have you figured out a way to get little Theo Nott alone yet? You know, so you can fuck him?” Seamus blushed, eyes flashing indignantly. Blaise was smart and Blaise was smooth and Blaise could read everyone like a book, it was frustrating in the most amazing way possible.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Zabini.” He lied, using Blaise’s last name. If anyone was eavesdropping they’d never guess how he spent his free time. Blaise’s smirk made him want to scream.

“Right, because you haven’t been constantly watching, Theodore Nott for the past few days. Did you notice he’s wearing a blue sweater beneath his robes today?”

“It’s a green sweater.” Seamus corrected before he could stop himself. Blaise chuckled.

“Whatever. You know he’s got the personality of a cardboard cut out.” He picked up one of the books-Quidditch Through the Ages-that Seamus had been reading and flipped through it absently. “He almost isn’t worth the time, Finnigan.” Slanting eyes, flicked once to Seamus, their gaze meeting briefly before he returned to scanning the book. “You could almost say, that to take time on Theo Nott would not only be a waste of time, but a waste of energy. He’s a boy not worth the challenge.” Blaise snapped the book shut and placed back on the table with a smooth grin. “But that’s just my opinion. If you want his, you’ll find him hanging around the dungeons after Transfiguration. He does that a lot.”

And then Blaise was gone, wandering off into the shelves of books, perfect sneer never once waning. Seamus was a tad confused. Blaise didn’t do anything unless it somehow benefited him and, for his life, Seamus couldn’t figure out what Blaise could get out of him seducing Theodor Nott. And deep down, he didn’t care. With each new day, he found himself becoming more and more of a slut, with each day he found himself caring less and less about becoming a slut. Life was lived but once and all, Seamus’ mind chortled happily as he packed the books away, and he was only making sure he got the most out of his life.

He spent Transfiguration next to Dean, just like old times, but with his eyes glued on Nott. The stringy little Slytherin didn’t seem to notice, which made things all the more thrilling for Seamus. There was something so wrong about watching Nott secretly, something so perversely intimate in the way that Seamus went about it. He had learned more things about Nott in the three days he’d compulsively watched him then Theodore Nott probably knew about himself. The boy was smart, that wasn’t a question, but when something puzzled him or bothered him slightly, he would chew his lips or nails. When he was concentrating hard, his mouth would squeeze tightly to the left side of his face. When he was talking to Pansy, he would lean away from her slightly, his arms usually crossed, he would frown. When he talked to Malfoy, he would frown as well, but more openly, and he’d splay his feet and keep his hands at his sides. Openly challenging. He was too cool for Draco’s games, too cool for gangs of friends and proposed rivalries. There it was, that fucking Slytherin confidence again.

Merlin, how Seamus wanted him, for no reason other then to say that he had. He smirked openly. Somehow, he Seamus Finnigan, upstanding Gryffindor, was becoming the Slytherin housemates’ bitch. And oh, how he liked it. Dean seemed to notice his goofy smile and tapped him on the arm lightly, face alight with confusion. Seamus waved him off, ‘It’s nothing, Dean, just got a tickle is all’, and continued trying to transfigure his frog into a toad, all the while keeping his gaze tracked on unsuspecting Theodore Nott.

As soon as Transfiguration was over, Seamus was off, giving a hastily formed excuse to Dean, and practically hurtling down the halls in order to reach the dungeons before Nott could. He wanted to scope his surroundings before he tried to take Nott on, he wanted to know the layout of everything before he attempted to lure Nott in, he never got the chance. Nott was fast and thin, working his way through the halls faster then Seamus ever could have. He was waiting when Seamus arrived, tousled and slightly tired, to the dungeons. Nott frowned as Seamus entered the room with him. There was a moment of silence as the two regarded each other, Nott’s eyes sliding up Seamus’ form before settling on his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Finnigan?” His voice was quiet, reserved. It didn’t hold the same brazen confidence of Malfoy or the soft-spoken, undeniable power of Blaise, but it was appealing nonetheless. Seamus grinned.

“I followed you.”

Nott snorted, lips reforming a thin pressed frown. “That much is obvious; the question is why would you follow me?” His dark eyes slid down Seamus’ form again before refocusing to his left then flickering back. “Not here to confirm rampant rumours I suppose?”

Seamus frowned back, puzzled. He knew that Malfoy had been spreading word of their…meeting to the Slytherins and that word could have easily leaked from there but…to call the rumours rampant? That seemed like overkill. “What sort of rampant rumours?” A ghosted smile snuck across Nott’s face.

“You need to be more careful who you sleep with, Finnigan. Everything catches up with everyone in the end.”

Seamus grinned back. “And who exactly have I slept with, Mr. Nott?” He said mockingly, purposefully using Theodore’s last name. Playing the game. Games were becoming more and more addictive of late it seemed. For a moment the boy frowned, confidence wavering just a little bit.

“Draco Malfoy.” The snotty arrogance was back as Seamus rolled his eyes. He knew it, he knew that that little bastard was spreading untrue shit around the school. Seamus sighed internally, getting angry over the whole thing would do no good however, this he knew, it needed a cool head and time to be mulled over. At the moment though, things other then skinny little Draco Malfoy and his rumours had Seamus’ interest.

“He does tend to talk quite a bit.” Seamus said easily, leaning back against the dungeon wall and meeting Nott’s gaze. “But can you believe everything a spoiled little brat like him says?” Cold and statuesque and perfect, smile in place, dark eyes flickering, Malfoy was the definition of spoiled. Nott frowned. From what Seamus had garnered from watching Nott, he could only hope that his interpretation of the challenging body language was correct and that Nott actually wasn’t Malfoy’s biggest fan. The boy took a deep breath.

“No. I suppose you can’t.” His lip was pulled in between his perfect white teeth and nibbled lightly. He was confused, Seamus’ motives had him a bit on edge; the Irishman grinned, wondering if Nott knew how easy to read he was. “But then why would you have followed me? I noticed you watching me, Finnigan, in the halls and in classes.”

Seamus smiled easily. “So?” Nott frowned again, eyebrows sliding together. At his side his one hand gave a reflexive little twitch.

“Why would you watch me? Why would you follow me down here unless all that Malfoy says is true?” He practically spat the name Malfoy. The hand that had twitched at his side came up to his mouth and unconsciously he began to nibble on the one nail. So easy to read…

“What’s Malfoy been saying?” The hand dropped away from the mouth, pretty dark eyes met the gaze of grey.

“He said he fucked you. Fucked you against the bathroom sink like a cheap whore and that the whole time you moaned like a wanton little slut.” Seamus blushed, except for the actual fucking part all of that was true. “He said he pushed you onto hands and knees and made you suck him off. He said…” Nott took a deep breath, colour high on his nicely formed cheeks. “He said a lot of stuff.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I didn’t until I noticed you watching me.” His eyes slid back to the floor again, tracing a pattern there. Seamus wasn’t sure what to make of his body language. It wasn’t normal Slytherin ‘I’ll fuck anyone, anytime’ confidence but there was a hint of something there. Nott was curious, interested, if he wasn’t he wouldn’t have still been standing there.

Seamus cocked his head to the side. There would be a break after Transfiguration, thirty minutes that the students could have to themselves before they had to head off to the next class, if he wanted to get anything done, he needed to get started. “And why does it matter what Malfoy says about me? I’m a Gryffindor, high and mighty and foolish, no? Why should it matter if he fucked me or not?” He put particular emphasis on the word fuck, making it sound dirtier then already was. The colour flared higher on Nott’s cheeks.

“It…it shouldn’t. It doesn’t…I mean…” The lip was back in between his teeth, eyes were hard, shifting. “I should go. I don’t need my reputation tarnished by people thinking I’m like you.” Nott’s voice was hard but quiet, he was striding across the room now, headed for the door just beyond Seamus. As he passed, Seamus said quietly.

“Or you could stay.” Nott turned confusion clear, eyebrows together.

“Why would I want to stay?”

“So I could show you what I know. Show you exactly what it was that your precious little Malfoy and I did. Or I could fuck you, if that’s what you wanted.” Seamus made sure his words were detached, superior. He had learned a few things from Blaise and Malfoy. Cool and confident would always win in the end. Nott was standing bug-eyed at the door now, his face so clotted with colour he could have been a tomato. Seamus grinned, again cool and confident, and continued. “Or you could fuck me. What is it you want, Theo? What is it that Malfoy proposed that piqued your interest?” Seamus took a few steps back, leaned on the wall, eyes meeting Nott’s. “You want me down on my hands and knees sucking your cock, want me tied and begging…what, Theo?” He knew that Nott hated the nickname, he had overheard the boy telling off Gregory Goyle for calling him Theo once, and he used it purposefully. Nott still hadn’t answered, his bottom teeth were gleaming as he tugged on his upper lip. Seamus considered just going over and kissing him, not waiting for answers at all; but that wasn’t part of the game and Seamus knew that playing by the rules was more rewarding in the end. Slowly he righted himself and walked across the room, sweeping close to Nott as he did so. “I’ll take my leave then, Theo, if you aren’t sure what you want.” He grinned back at Nott, hand on the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you arou-“

“Fuck me.” The words were desperate sounding, hushed, completely non-Slytherin sounding. Seamus smiled. He could do that, he would gladly do that. With another cocksure smile, Seamus was next to Nott, head tilted to look slightly up at him. Nott’s dark eyes were large, a bit unsure, again it didn’t suit the normally quietly cocky Slytherin. Seamus could imagine why, similar feelings had accosted him during his little rendezvous with Malfoy. Yeah, he wanted it but did he want it? Was it worth the risk? Seamus didn’t give time for Nott to truly process these thoughts because in the next instant he was kissing him, standing on the balls of his feet to be able to reach, and bringing a hand around the back of the boy’s head so that he couldn’t move away. It didn’t take too long for Nott to take part in the kiss, his warm lips sliding open, tongue slipping out from between perfect teeth to delve briefly into Seamus’ mouth. Mostly though Seamus dominated, tongue sweeping brazenly between Nott’s parted lips, one hand tangling uselessly in the boy’s unruly dark locks, one hand sneaking around the boy’s waist to bring them closer together.

“W-we shouldn’t do this here.” His voice was in Seamus’ ear, his hands were hopelessly attached to Seamus’ shoulders. “Anyone could find us.”

“Good.” And the hand that had been holding Nott’s hips slid to his front and he slid into the robes easily. Nott’s protests stopped when Seamus’ hand found his zipper, loosed it, delved inside. He didn’t even bother sliding the clothes off of Nott’s legs, the confines of the pants allowed Seamus to work him quicker, even if the angle did cause a little twang of protest to zip through his bent wrist. Nott’s legs spread unconsciously, the material of his pants tugging tighter as he did so, his one hand quested forward, tugged uselessly at Seamus’ robes; the Irishman grinned. He took a step back and with a smirk, he pulled his robes off, letting them drift to the floor, his long sleeve shirt came next and he felt himself smiling at Nott’s expression. Seamus was built, he knew it. He may not have been the tallest or the most handsome but he was built, broad shouldered, thinly muscled. He stared back at Nott with a grin until the boy pulled himself out of his reverie.

“Like what you see, Theo?” He teased, smile finding its way naturally to his face. The dark haired Slytherin didn’t answer just pushed his own robes off and tugged on his own sweater, getting it over his head before Seamus was back on him, kissing him roughly. Lightly tanned hands ran down Nott’s sides, drawing a small mewling noise from the boy, and in a matter of seconds Seamus had his hands in Nott’s pants again. He worked the pants off this time, pushing them down Nott’s thin legs, following them up with the boy’s boxers. He fell to his knees and his grey eyes met Nott’s dark ones. A second, a lifetime, a millennium later, Seamus’ eyes flickered away from Nott’s gaze, travelling downward to the perfectly proportionate cock inches from his nose. It was almost startling how perfect the thin boy was, every inch of him was proportionate to every other inch. Seamus grinned for a moment, enjoying the way that Nott’s breath caught as he looked down at Seamus, on his knees, going to suck him off. Seamus could imagine the picture he made.

A heartbeat later, Seamus had Nott swallowed down, willing his throat to relax, allowing his eyes to flutter close for the barest of instants. Giving head was becoming second nature to the Irishman. A shudder and a moan from the boy above him gave him all the warning he needed to get his mouth out of the way, his hand coming up to replace his mouth, finishing the trembling Nott with a few deft jerks of his wrist. Warm cum shot out from the tip of Nott’s cock, soaking Seamus’ hand, dripping to the floor. Seamus coated his fingers with it and wiped the excess off on his pants.

“Turn around.” A quiet command. Nott obeyed. Seamus was a little surprised, if the Slytherin was willing to listen without question then maybe he really did want it. Seamus grinned, pride soaring at not only the willing submission of the boy but at the implications that it was he who was wanted, not just him wanting. “You’re going to want to relax.” He whispered, teeth grazing Nott’s ear as he pressed his fingers against the boy’s entrance. Nott moaned, nodded, his breath hissed out as Seamus pushed forward. He worked quickly, his body demanded that he did, fingers pumping in and out once before he added another. Nott got used to the feelings quickly, grinding back on the fingers as they delved in and out of him. It sort of surprised Seamus.

“Finnigan…” Nott’s voice was a whine, his head was pressed to the wall, sweaty forehead resting on the cool stone, he had turned slightly to look over his shoulder at Seamus. Seamus guessed that it was Nott’s way of saying he was ready. The fingers came out, twined in Nott’s, slightly calloused palm to velvety soft back and Seamus pushed himself into Nott’s welcoming heat.

He didn’t think after that.

Words like hot and tight, fuck, harder, faster, more, deeper, so fucking tight flitted through Seamus’ mind uselessly. He was groaning, hips were moving, thrusting in, pulling back, losing himself in the motion. It was like the blowjobs that Neville had become so adept at giving, the heat, the tightness, the wonder of it all but it was so much more at the same time. Seamus was aware that he was talking then, nonsense sentences and words and mangled strains of ‘Theo’ fell unbidden from his lips, traced the boy’s ear, his breath was ragged. Nott was moaning too he realised, he could hear the boy’s crescendo of noise as he sped up his pace. Nott’s hand was on his own cock, stroking himself hurriedly, out of synch with Seamus’ thrusts. The edge was close, Seamus could feel it, and he both welcomed and rued the end. His pace picked up again.

And then Nott stiffened, cumming for a second time, spunk staining the dungeon wall and splashing back onto his stomach. His body tightened like a living vice around Seamus’ cock and with one more defiant thrust, Seamus too was flooded with heat, unsprung like a coil, and he came. He pulled out almost immediately, zipping and buttoning the pants he hadn’t bothered to take off, collecting his shirt, pulling it on as well. He had gotten to his robes when he realised that Nott hadn’t moved. Brief panic flashed through Seamus’ mind, what if he’d hurt the boy, what if Nott had changed his mind last minute and decided to report Seamus to the teachers. The thought of McGonagall’s stern, disappointed countenance was enough to kill the post-orgasmic high.

“You okay, Theo?” Seamus said, hand coming up to pat Nott’s bare back. The boy glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin. Unease re-twisted Seamus’ stomach.

“I’m great.” His tone held that old Slytherin arrogance again. “Better then great actually.” There was something off-putting about his smile as he tugged his boxers and pants on. “Can’t wait to see fucking Malfoy’s face when I tell him.” Seamus frowned.

“What?”

Nott’s eyes grew comically large and he clamped a perfectly proportioned hand over his mouth, like he had just spilled the secret of the world. “Oops. Wasn’t supposed to tell you, Finnigan, but since I mentioned it.” He paused as he pulled the green sweater over his head. “Malfoy and I had a little bet. He seemed to think that he was the only one who could get a Gryffindor into the sack. He thinks he’s Merlin’s gift to all the ickle faggots out there. I wanted to prove him wrong. So we made a little bet.” His smile was cold and perfect, he trailed a hand through his dark hair. “If I could get one Gryffindor to sleep with me, fucking Malfoy would have to do whatever I asked for one day.” Seamus blinked slowly.

“Why me?”

“Blaise heard about the bet, he wanted to see Malfoy lose as badly as I did. He told me you were a good candidate. I mean, you’re not too hard on the eyes, you’re Irish, from what Malfoy was saying, you’re reasonably talented. I figured why not, easier then Potter or Creevey or Thomas or any of those redheaded brats.” Seamus felt himself blush unhappily. Nott smirked. “And you weren’t bad.” He was adjusting his robes now, straightening his collar. “So thanks, Finnigan.” He let out a small laugh and strode to the door.

Seamus frowned again as the dungeon door shut behind Theodore Nott with a thud. Part of him was a little injured that he had been used in such a way, a part of him choked it up to luck--that is what happens when you deal with Slytherins--and another part of him was just happy to have gotten laid. It wasn’t like he’d been used as badly by Nott as he had by Malfoy, besides the fact that other then to prove he’d won the bet, Nott probably wouldn’t gossip too much about the encounter. Unconsciously a finger drifted to his mouth and Seamus nibbled the nail gingerly. With a start he pulled the finger out of his mouth and shook his head. Damn Slytherins…damn cocky boys with their pretty little bodies, inviting little offers. He snorted as he walked to the door, when someone played with fire they usually got burnt, it was a fact of life, and occasionally burning could be fun.
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~Slutmuffin

So, I meant to post this a few days ago but couldn't find the time. Who's got the time? Oh well, there it was, hope you enjoyed expect the next chappie soon, like tomorrow.