"Tell Me" for oconel
Title: “Tell Me”
Author:
auntbijou
Giftee:
oconel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Seamus/Dean, Seamus/???
Word Count: 1,596
Summary: Just what would you be willing to do to get all your old friends together?
Author’s Notes: I have been suffering the world’s worst writer’s block these last few weeks, and I’m glad that it seems to be over. And I’m glad that this was a pairing that broke it. I hope you enjoy it. And as usual, J. K. Rowling, goddess of all things Harry Potter, owns it all, and I am merely dabbling in her universe, making them much kinkier. Heh, heh...
Beta: The lovely and oh-so-generous
the_minx_17. Thank you, dear heart! You saved Auntie’s bacon, and that’s a fact!
Large, warm hands moved slowly down over his hips and along his flanks, making him tremble. The blindfold was soft against his face, over his eyes, secure and snug so that he couldn’t even see down along his nose. “What are you thinking about?” murmured that voice in his ear, the one that always got him, the one that always made him so damn hard, and Dean knew it, too. Always sidling up to him in the pub to murmur in his ear, “Let’s go home,” or “I like the way those pants fit, so I can see everything that’s mine.” He shivered when the hands moved up his sides. “Talk to me.”
“Dean,” he nearly whimpered, but he managed to make it more breathy than pathetic. Just barely.
“What are you thinking?” Lips against his ear. “Tell me.”
“Actually,” he said shakily as those hands stroked up his bare sides and over his chest, “I’m incapable of thinking at the moment. Sorry.”
Dean chuckled softly. “Seamus...”
Warmth against his back, and he felt the softness of Dean’s robe against his skin. Dean was still dressed then. Damn.
“Still comfortable?”
“Mmmmm...” He tried to shift his hands in the leather suspension cuffs, felt the resistance in the stiff leather, and stopped. “Yes, Dean.”
The warm hands slid up his arms, and he felt the tug as Dean checked the cuffs, making an adjustment as he hummed softly to himself. “I like you like this.”
He didn’t answer, just let his head fall back and relax as he heard the crank turn and felt himself rise till he was on his toes. His body was stretched upwards and he felt something wet sliding up his throat, damp breath against his chin, and a quick nip at his jaw-line. “Dean!” he tried to gasp, but that mouth closed over his and what little rational thought was left to him fled completely. Fingers snagged in his curly hair, pulling his head even farther back, forcing his mouth to open a little wider and finally, the slick, velvety touch of Dean’s tongue against his, and finally, one hand sliding down his chest, down over his quivering stomach, down, down... he whined.
Dean laughed softly against his mouth. “What’s the matter, Seam?”
“Dean, you bloody tease! Aren’t ye gonna touch me?” Was it him, or did the crank move again? He was struggling to stay on his toes as one hand kept a firm grip in his hair, and the other traced up his inner thigh, tormentingly close to where he needed to be touched most.
“I am touching you.” Yes, the crank had moved. He could barely touch the ground now. “Is there somewhere specific you wanted me to touch?”
“Yes, you bloody wanker!”
Laughter against his ear, that low rumble that made him wish his hands weren’t bound, that he could throw Dean down and have his way with him, now! “Naughty, naughty, Seamus...talking that way. What would your mam think?”
“Keep me mam out of this!” he shouted, trying to struggle. Daft bugger, mentioning his mam was a sure guarantee he’d lose his... he jerked when a mouth closed around what he could have sworn was a wilting erection. But... Dean’s hands... one was still in his hair, and the other was now back on his belly, holding him steady. “Dean... Dean...” he said shakily as that mouth started to move, tongue tight against the underside of his shaft. “Dean... who... who’s doing me cock?”
Dean laughed. “Now, now, Seamus... it’s your birthday. Did you really think I’d forget to get my baby a present?”
“Dean...” It was a weak moan as that wicked mouth just kept... oh gods, he couldn’t even think anymore. “Dean... wha... wha... oh, please, Dean, tell me that’s not...”
The mouth came off, and he felt a kiss on his belly. “What’s the matter, Seamus? Dean said you wanted this,” said a familiar voice that made him suddenly squirm. Then an eager tongue was applied to his bollocks, and he writhed.
“Oh, Dean... you didn’t,” Seamus moaned.
A kiss on his ear. “What... you didn’t think I heard you?”
“Dean!” But that mouth was busy again, there was suction, and he really wasn’t in a position to resist. Much.
“You don’t want your prezzie, Seam?” Teeth nipped at his earlobe, and he squirmed again. “You’re so hard, love, and I think it’s making him really happy to have you in his mouth like that.”
All he could do was moan. Hands were on his hips now, holding him still while Dean caressed his back and sides, standing behind him again. There was something odd about his hands, though. Dean was an artist, and his hands were sometimes rough, thanks to washing paint and other chemicals off his hands, but these hands were rough in a different way. Callused fingertips and palms slid over his skin... and somehow, the fingers were too long... the palms too wide... Seamus shivered.
“Problems, Seam?”
Seamus stiffened. Dean’s voice came from... in front of him? Some distance in front of him, in fact. “Dean?”
“It’s all right, love,” said Dean’s voice soothingly, and he heard footsteps moving closer to him, then fingertips on his lips, the scent of the almond soap Dean used reassuring him, and he opened his mouth, moaning when a fingertip slipped in to rub his tongue gently. “It’s all right. There’s no one here that you don’t know.”
He couldn’t answer while Dean’s finger was pressing on his tongue like that, but that was precisely what was worrying him. Lips on the back of his neck, heat at his back before skin pressed against him, and something long, something very hard, and... his mouth fell wide open in shock. He knew only one person with equipment that size, a person he had seen naked every day in the showers since he was eleven at Hogwarts, and upon occasion in camp during the War. “D-Dean...” he almost whimpered around the finger still in his mouth.
“I thought you wanted this, Seamus,” said the man behind him, and he jerked in surprise. Dean laughed heartily and with one last rub of Seamus’ tongue, removed his finger.
“Stop fighting it, Seamus, you’re so hard you could cut diamonds right now.” Lips pressed the corner of his mouth. “You’re practically gagging Harry with it.”
There was an enthusiastic hum from somewhere down in the vicinity of his crotch, and Seamus shivered at the effect of the vibrations it caused. Teeth nipped at the side of his neck, working up to his ear, and he shuddered again, turning his head toward the torment, though he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to stop it... or get more. He squirmed, writhing in his bonds, gasping when the hands on his hips tightened their grip, and the wet, tight mouth popped off to start sucking at his bollocks again. “Jays,” he whimpered, pulling at his wrists, wanting so much to grab the silky hair he could feel against his belly and pull it back to his cock. He tugged desperately at the cuffs, but they didn’t give, nor did they allow him any movement beyond the stretch that pulled from his shoulders down through the back that someone was licking so thoroughly with an evil and devious tongue. How long he was teased and tormented like this, hands moving over his skin, mouths sucking, biting, and licking he had no idea. He just gave into it, letting go. A sharp nip on his shoulder brought him back, making him jerk.
“Remember, Ron... no bruises, no hickeys,” Dean said sternly.
“Aw... where’s the fun in that?” Ron’s mouth was uncomfortably close to his ear, puffs of warm breath making him squirm as they moved across the shell and into the coil, shivers running down his spine and it was all too much, Harry’s mouth, Ron’s breath, Dean’s fingers moving over his face where it wasn’t covered by the blindfold, dear Merlin, whose hands were those running over his belly and up his chest, because Harry was holding his hips, and Ron was running his hands up his arms, and... and... he writhed as those long, clever fingers pinched and pulled his nipples. He was so close, getting so close now, just... just...
When teeth fastened into a hard nipple, Seamus arched, toes curling hard as he erupted into that warm, greedy mouth and his blindfold was pulled away. Four familiar faces looked into his as he slipped bonelessly from the suddenly released restraints, falling into Dean’s sturdy embrace and they all sank to the floor with him, laughing and grinning at him. “Okay there, Seamus?” asked Harry, wiping at the corners of his mouth, a big, happy grin on his face.
Seamus sighed sleepily, leaning back into his husband’s lean frame and grinned back. “I’m lovely,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “The things I do just to get you gits together. Can we just have a damn reunion with drinks and food and music next time? And perhaps the rest of our class?”
“Sure we can, Seamus,” said Neville, settling comfortably between Ron and Harry and reaching over to tweak a rosy nipple. They were his favorite part of this. “But, you know, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as this.”
Seamus closed his eyes as he relaxed into the many touches on his sensitized skin, the beginning of many in what was sure to be yet another long, but memorable night. Neville certainly had a point.