It's Birthday time....
Today has the honor of being wook77's birthday. I won't tell how old she is today, that would be rude.
However, I come bearing gifts. This little ditty was written specifically for her as a sequel to a little thing I wrote for her on her birthday last year. This is NOT going to be a yearly tradition, I swear it.
Anyway, HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS!!! and I'll see you in a few days.
Title: Second Verse, Different From the First
Author: yodels
Summary: Dean ponders the ramifications of not one, but two unexpected encounters with Seamus.
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Warnings/Rating : R
Word count: ~730
Disclaimer: The characters contained within are not of my invention, nor do I claim any right to them. I’m simply manipulating them for someone else’s pleasure. They belong to JKR, and a few other folks.
A/N: Written for the lovely wook77 on the occasion of her birthday. This is a direct follow-up to Going Underground a ficlet written for the same Wook last year on her birthday. You may want to read that one first, otherwise this one won’t make a bit of sense. Sorry.
A/N...2 This was helped along by the incomparable janicechess, who whipped it into shape.
One time could be considered a fluke.
An aberration.
A momentary lack of concentration.
But, twice? That implied some kind of volition.
A purpose.
A distinct abundance of concentration.
And Dean had no idea what to make of that, because it had definitely happened twice. Granted, the second time was neither planned nor sought, but once begun it couldn’t be undone, and the outcome had been the same.
An orgasm.
An orgasm with a boy.
Seamus’s breathing hitched when Dean’s hand found his bare cock and gave a long slow pull. Dean could feel Seamus’s hands roaming across his back, alternately pulling and pushing at the bare skin as if unsure if he wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
Dean shook the image of this afternoon’s surprising interlude from his head. The familiar feelings of confusion and gratification still lingered, but the shame he had felt the first time was muted by the fact that this time it hadn’t happened in public. Well, almost not in public. Were owls members of the public? Dean decided that they were not.
However, this time the whole thing had been glossed with a sheen of …of…something. A little bit of thrill. Excitement. There was the thrill of doing something unexpected and unpredictable, but more than that, there was the thrill of finally knowing that the first time, while most definitely an accident, was not wholly unwanted. The first time had been a result of circumstance. Coincidence. The second time, had been, if not intentional, certainly preventable.
The wall of the Owlery was rough against his bare back, sharp stones scratching into his skin like a lover’s nails. Seamus’s teeth were leaving their own marks across his chest and up his neck. The pleasurepain of it made him gasp in surprise. Seamus stopped at the sound and looked directly into his eyes for the first time. The question was asked and answered in an exchanged look, and Seamus bent to his work once again.
Want. An interesting word. Did Dean want Seamus? He hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the “incident,” as he termed it in his head. The first time. The Tube. The crush of people. The air thick with the fumes of engines and humans alike. Dean could bring up the memory so easily. And since that moment two weeks prior, Dean had become obsessed. He thought about him during Quidditch matches. Thought about him while eating eggs at breakfast in the Great Hall. Thought about him while brushing his teeth. Definitely thought about him while taking a shower, which inevitably ended with a very quiet wank in the last stall, praying that no one could hear him. Dean decided that he definitely wanted Seamus. But for what, exactly?
To touch? Yes.
To lick? Yes.
To shag? Hmmm….yes?
To have a relationship with? Didn’t he already have a relationship with Seamus? Weren’t they the best of mates? Shared everything? Went everywhere together? Seamus was the first person Dean thought of when he had news to share. Seamus was the first person Dean looked for at every meal. Seamus was the last person he saw before falling asleep at night.
And now, this second incident was there, looming over everything. Turning his world upside down and inside out. Everything he ever knew about Seamus, and everything he thought about Seamus was screened with this new filter. Sex. Either it ruined everything, or made it unbelievably better. Hard to tell.
Dean came without a sound, staring directly into Seamus’s eyes, his body jerking and twitching convulsively, much like the thoughts in his mind. Sweat poured down his neck and dripped to the stone floor around their feet. The only sounds were the rustle of owl wings and Seamus’s hand stroking his cock.
Pushing himself off the grass, Dean walked the perimeter of the lake, pondering his options. He could ignore everything, go on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and pray that it happened again and again and again.
Or.
He could push Seamus into a dark alcove on their way to dinner and tell him that he wanted it to happen again and again and again, but with intention and emotion behind it, not happenstance and surprise. No more coincidences.
Once was a fluke.
Twice was deliberate.
Three times? That made it real.
Thankfully, it was just about dinnertime and Dean knew exactly where Seamus would be right now. Only one of the many benefits of being best mates.
However, I come bearing gifts. This little ditty was written specifically for her as a sequel to a little thing I wrote for her on her birthday last year. This is NOT going to be a yearly tradition, I swear it.
Anyway, HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS!!! and I'll see you in a few days.
Title: Second Verse, Different From the First
Author: yodels
Summary: Dean ponders the ramifications of not one, but two unexpected encounters with Seamus.
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Warnings/Rating : R
Word count: ~730
Disclaimer: The characters contained within are not of my invention, nor do I claim any right to them. I’m simply manipulating them for someone else’s pleasure. They belong to JKR, and a few other folks.
A/N: Written for the lovely wook77 on the occasion of her birthday. This is a direct follow-up to Going Underground a ficlet written for the same Wook last year on her birthday. You may want to read that one first, otherwise this one won’t make a bit of sense. Sorry.
A/N...2 This was helped along by the incomparable janicechess, who whipped it into shape.
One time could be considered a fluke.
An aberration.
A momentary lack of concentration.
But, twice? That implied some kind of volition.
A purpose.
A distinct abundance of concentration.
And Dean had no idea what to make of that, because it had definitely happened twice. Granted, the second time was neither planned nor sought, but once begun it couldn’t be undone, and the outcome had been the same.
An orgasm.
An orgasm with a boy.
Seamus’s breathing hitched when Dean’s hand found his bare cock and gave a long slow pull. Dean could feel Seamus’s hands roaming across his back, alternately pulling and pushing at the bare skin as if unsure if he wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
Dean shook the image of this afternoon’s surprising interlude from his head. The familiar feelings of confusion and gratification still lingered, but the shame he had felt the first time was muted by the fact that this time it hadn’t happened in public. Well, almost not in public. Were owls members of the public? Dean decided that they were not.
However, this time the whole thing had been glossed with a sheen of …of…something. A little bit of thrill. Excitement. There was the thrill of doing something unexpected and unpredictable, but more than that, there was the thrill of finally knowing that the first time, while most definitely an accident, was not wholly unwanted. The first time had been a result of circumstance. Coincidence. The second time, had been, if not intentional, certainly preventable.
The wall of the Owlery was rough against his bare back, sharp stones scratching into his skin like a lover’s nails. Seamus’s teeth were leaving their own marks across his chest and up his neck. The pleasurepain of it made him gasp in surprise. Seamus stopped at the sound and looked directly into his eyes for the first time. The question was asked and answered in an exchanged look, and Seamus bent to his work once again.
Want. An interesting word. Did Dean want Seamus? He hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the “incident,” as he termed it in his head. The first time. The Tube. The crush of people. The air thick with the fumes of engines and humans alike. Dean could bring up the memory so easily. And since that moment two weeks prior, Dean had become obsessed. He thought about him during Quidditch matches. Thought about him while eating eggs at breakfast in the Great Hall. Thought about him while brushing his teeth. Definitely thought about him while taking a shower, which inevitably ended with a very quiet wank in the last stall, praying that no one could hear him. Dean decided that he definitely wanted Seamus. But for what, exactly?
To touch? Yes.
To lick? Yes.
To shag? Hmmm….yes?
To have a relationship with? Didn’t he already have a relationship with Seamus? Weren’t they the best of mates? Shared everything? Went everywhere together? Seamus was the first person Dean thought of when he had news to share. Seamus was the first person Dean looked for at every meal. Seamus was the last person he saw before falling asleep at night.
And now, this second incident was there, looming over everything. Turning his world upside down and inside out. Everything he ever knew about Seamus, and everything he thought about Seamus was screened with this new filter. Sex. Either it ruined everything, or made it unbelievably better. Hard to tell.
Dean came without a sound, staring directly into Seamus’s eyes, his body jerking and twitching convulsively, much like the thoughts in his mind. Sweat poured down his neck and dripped to the stone floor around their feet. The only sounds were the rustle of owl wings and Seamus’s hand stroking his cock.
Pushing himself off the grass, Dean walked the perimeter of the lake, pondering his options. He could ignore everything, go on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened and pray that it happened again and again and again.
Or.
He could push Seamus into a dark alcove on their way to dinner and tell him that he wanted it to happen again and again and again, but with intention and emotion behind it, not happenstance and surprise. No more coincidences.
Once was a fluke.
Twice was deliberate.
Three times? That made it real.
Thankfully, it was just about dinnertime and Dean knew exactly where Seamus would be right now. Only one of the many benefits of being best mates.