Seamus is a Slutmuffin

Last Chapter. Dean/Seamus. Enjoy!
-----------
It had been two weeks since Seamus had been properly fucked. Two weeks of half-baked excuses—“I’m sorry, Shea, but Cho and I need to work on our outfits for the ball”—sneering admonitions—“You may have gotten that Huffle-slut, Finnigan, but that means nothing to me. Go see fucking Draco if you want a lay”—and general disdain—“Oh, so it’s my turn now, after weeks of ignoring me. That’s right, I forgot, I’m just the Boy Wonder’s best mate, I don’t really matter!” And Seamus, for all his general merriment, was fucking tired of it.

Pent-up lust spilled from every fibber of his being. Two weeks.

He lay back on his cot, eyes tracing the ceiling stones. He needed something, anything really. A fuck, a blowjob, a good shag, even a kiss…he needed some way to get his emotions out. He just didn’t know how.

“You know, when most people feel particularly emotional,” Dean’s voice floated to him over his swelling anger, “they don’t lie on their beds growling like an animal.” He was holding a parchment and quill, Seamus wasn’t sure why. “Most people figure out constructive ways of conveying their emotions.” Seamus rolled his head to the side to glare at Dean.

“’Constructive ways of conveying emotion’?” He mocked, lip raising in a sneering smile. He really needed to stop hanging around Slytherins; their habits were rubbing off on him. He scratched his face with blunt, bitten nails. “And what exactly are you suggesting?”

Dean frowned. “You know, constructive. Paint a portrait, kick a football, write a poem—“

“And I’m the poof! Write a poem you say, Dean?!” He laughed, not caring that he was being rude. Dean scowled.

“I’m only saying. You need to get your emotions out, not…” He waved his chocolate coloured hand in Seamus’ direction, “bottle.”

“And what do you do to ‘get your emotions out’?” Seamus asked with a smirk. Dean blushed, a dark chocolate taking over the cocoa of his skin.

He shrugged. “Lot’s of stuff. Paint, sketch…stuff.” His eyes flickered down to the parchment he was holding. Seamus felt his own blush starting. Sketch, Dean liked to sketch, and there was only one person in all of Hogwarts that Dean would ever look at hard enough to sketch. A flash of irrational anger thundered in Seamus’ mind.

“Were you drawing her?” He asked darkly, brow crinkling in distaste. “Sketching how your little Miss Weasley would look all laid out beneath you, begging?” Dean’s cheeks got darker.

“N-no.” He fought weakly, parchment placed face-down on the desk. “And what would it matter if I did?” His voice regained some spunk. Seamus rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me, Seamus. Talk to me. You haven’t talked to me since the third week of school, not really. Look, I know that you’re into boys, and that’s fine with me, but I can’t deal with this.” He gestured between them. “I can’t deal with this unreasonable temper.” Seamus rolled his eyes again, turned his head so as not to look in Dean’s direction. “Come on, Shea, just tell me what’s on your mind.”

The Irishman glared at Dean from under his eyelashes. He wouldn’t say anything, he wouldn’t. Nothing Dean could ever say would make…

“You know, I heard Malfoy talking the other day. He was with a group of Slytherins. Talking about you, Shea. You know, he knows about your scar.” Dean’s hand traced where Seamus’ scar was. “He was telling them about how loudly you moaned when he sucked it.” Dean’s melted candy eyes met Seamus’. “How come he knows about the scar, Shea?” Seamus didn’t answer, simply turned his head back to the side, lips pouted together, eyes hard. “How many people have you fucked and not told me?”

Fucked. Dean Thomas, Britain’s sweetheart had used the word fucked, like it was a normal part of conversation for him. The juvenile way his tongue danced around the word though proved him otherwise. Seamus looked back at him, didn’t want to answer, did anyway.

“Do you want technically fucked or the list of those I’ve messed around with?” Dean scowled openly.

“Damn it, Seamus!” He pinched the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. “So the rumours, the one’s I’ve been defending you from, the one’s that I have been standing up for you about; they’re all true?!”

Seamus shook his head quickly, sitting up. “No. Only some…most…well, parts of most are true. I-I never fucked Malfoy. I didn’t fuck Zacharias either or Lee Jordan…” He trailed off, arguing further was pointless. Dean looked disappointed and pissed. “Look, Dean, I’m…sorry, I guess. I should have told you.”

“Fuck yeah you should have, but it’s a teensy bit late for that now, isn’t it? I had to find out from that bloody, son-of-a-bitch Malfoy that my best mate was screwing every guy in this school senseless without even telling me. Why did you think you couldn’t trust me?”

“Well, you’ve got your Ginny, why should you care who I spend my evenings fucking?” Seamus retorted angrily. Dean’s face was livid.

“Stop bringing her into it, she has nothing to do with this. This is about you and me, Shea, not her.”

“It has everything to do with her.” Seamus knew that he should stop, knew that his cascade of words would end him nowhere good. He couldn’t get his voice to listen however. “If it weren’t for you being so smitten with her, I wouldn’t have been in that bathroom with Malfoy in the first place.” He bit his lip sharply, ebbing all further speech.

Dean looked a little surprised. “What?”

“Nothing. Look, just go back to your Ginny sketch.” He lay back on the bed, staring forcefully at the ceiling. If looks could kill, the ceiling wouldn’t have stood a chance. Dean’s worried, slightly curious, face, impeded Seamus’ view of the ceiling, his body weight on the mattress, tilted everything slightly.

“Seamus, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous of Ginny.”

“Fuck you, Dean, and fuck her. I am not bleeding jealous.”

“Then why does it matter if I sketch her, why does my talking about her send you to bathrooms to get yourself molested?”

“It just gets annoying.” Seamus’ eyes flickered away from Dean’s gaze. “Why in the world would I be jealous?”

“Had you asked me that last week, I would have told you its because she’s getting the attention that you feel you deserve—you are my best mate after all. Today though, I’m thinking there’s another reason.” His face ducked out of Seamus’ view. The Irishman sat up. “Want to see what I was drawing?”

“I don’t want to see any pictures of fucking Gin—“

“It’s not of her. It’s someone I like a whole mess more then her. Someone who sometimes I want to murder because he just makes me so mad, but then he does some fucking thing, something bluntly sweet and bull-headed and I find myself not so mad anymore. Someone who sneaks around behind my back, acting like an idiot but who doesn’t mean any real harm.” Dean said slowly, eyes drifting over the parchment. Seamus frowned at the description as the paper was slowly passed to him.

A frown adorned his features, darkly inked eyes glared up from under nicely shaped eyebrows, a square jaw was offset by messy hair and high cheek bones. Seamus started down at himself glaring up from the paper. He looked up at Dean.

“Why?”

“Seamus, you are my best friend and when Neville said that you—“

“Neville?! I thought you found out from Draco.” Dean grinned, guilty.

“Well, I did hear him talking but…I heard from Neville first. He told me on Halloween about you and he and you and Malfoy. He kept me updated on what you were doing. He wanted you to tell me, I thought you would eventually. But when this much time passed and you showed no signs…I decided to bring it up myself. I mean, I know you ‘told’ me but you never trusted me enough to tell me, Seamus. And that was all I wanted. ‘Cause if you told me, if you could trust me, then I could trust you…” He was shuffling through more papers now, class notes and returned assignments. Rough sketches of Seamus adorned all of them, in the margins, the corners, on the backs. “I didn’t want you to know, I thought you’d laugh at me for having a stupid crush, so when I saw you glaring daggers at Ginny one day I thought ‘Perfect opportunity to get him jealous, yeah? Get him hot and bothered and he’ll confess’ but you didn’t you just sucked yourself further in.”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes down. “But you were talking about Ginny long before I was with Neville.”

“I mentioned her once, Shea, and it was in context to Ron. You got all upset and stormed off and I didn’t know why so I just stayed put.” His hands grasped one of the papers, traced the contours of the drawn Seamus’ face. The real Seamus blushed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You’re Irish, I’m used to it. Your temper is almost as notorious as Harry’s and you’re always overreacting. Which is why, in all honesty, my plan should have worked. But instead of coming to me, you went to Theo Nott and Lee Jordan and Justin Finch-Fletchley and Merlin knows who else.” Dean’s voice was angry again, his fingers followed the haphazard planes of Seamus’ animated hair. They traced down his cheekbone, slowing as the traversed across his cheek, onto his inked lips. “But then we’d be eating or going to class or in class and you’d look at me and all that anger would just…go. Merlin above, Seamus. You drive me bonkers, yeah?”

Seamus grinned. “I guess I have that effect on some.”

“Like more crazy then that time that West Ham almost won the championship. Like more crazy then Professor Moody.” He was leaning in now, unintentionally, eyes glued on Seamus. “I could kill you sometimes.”

“You could kiss me sometimes too, though.” Seamus said. Their lips were inches apart, kissing distance. Dean blinked.

“Yeah, I guess, sometimes.”

“I meant now, Dean. You could kiss me now.”

“What? Oh, uh, right.” And then he was leaning just a tad more forward and his lips were catching on Seamus’ chaste, wonderful. Seamus gripped Dean’s shoulders, guided him back, scattering parchment as he went. Their lips never once broke apart. Seamus made himself comfortable, arm stretching up lazily, wrapping around Dean’s waist. He opened his mouth, let the kisses deepen, arched up into them. It was slow and perfect. No sense of urgency hindered their process as the two slowly disrobed one another, kissing each new revealed layer thoroughly before the next garment could be discarded.

“Shea…” It was a whispered moan as Dean’s eyes fluttered open and shut. Seamus was on top now, positions having twisted about as the two progressed, naked, hard but not urgent. The pulsating demand of his cock’s need for release was there but it was dulled. He nestled between Dean’s long, chocolate legs, and rolled his hips gently against Dean’s. Another bitten moan, this one sounding suspiciously more like a curse, flitted out of Dean’s mouth. Seamus guided a hand down to their cocks, wrapped slowly around both of them, tugging gently, guiding them into a steady—but not rushed—rhythm. His other hand supported Dean’s back, rubbing in slow circles, his lips laid unhindered little kisses along the boy’s jaw and neck. He heard Dean’s breathe hitch, his hips gave a violent little spasm, he came. Seamus ground his cock a little harder against Dean’s hip and with a sigh came too, collapsing with his head resting on Dean’s shoulder and his body still in between Dean’s dark thighs.

It had been different, alien. More gentle and caring then any other fuck he had had. He hadn’t wanted it to end—he never really wanted it to end—but even in that, he hadn’t rued the end because he knew that they would do this again. He reached up to absently stroke Dean’s hair. But that wasn’t right either. Fuck, the word just didn’t fit with Dean, didn’t fit with the intimacy of their last act. Love making? Seamus’ eyes drifted open as he remembered a conversation he had had with Neville ages ago.

‘I’m in love with Dean?’

It was possible, was becoming more possible by the minute, even though Seamus tried to ward the feeling away. It wasn’t until Dean rolled over a bit, slipping out from under Seamus to curl against him more, and a sleepy little “Love you, Shea” to meander sleepily from his lips that Seamus lost the battle.

“I love you, too, Dean.” He responded against the black boy’s neck, then with a satisfied smile and a little sigh, he fell asleep.
-----------
~Slutmuffin

That's the end. Hope you liked this series while it ran, I was thinking of doing a follow-up. Maybe, maybe not.