(no subject)
Title: Tomorrow Night
Author: Chad
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the person with all the money and the fabulous idea for this little playground. If I owned them all, sadly there would be far less plot, Hogwarts would most likely be a boys school and this kinda thing would happen, all the time.
Notes: nothingbutfic for the beta and encouragement. mistletoemagic story for: baleheadbabe
The space in Dean Thomas' bed that wasn't taken up with himself and his best mate was littered with brightly coloured wrappers. The boys were lying close in a bed that had seemed so much bigger last year. Now Dean had to curl up a bit, just to keep his legs from dangling over the sides. They were wearing clashing plaid pajamas, legs tangled together as both of them tried to stuff their hands into a large paper sack a once, raiding what was left of Dean's stash of Honeydukes sweets.
"Wanker." Seamus hissed it under his breath, giving Harry Potter's backside the dreaded Finnigan death glare from behind the curtains of Dean's bed, safe and sound. His lips were curled into a petulant sneer that would give even Draco Malfoy a run for his money.
Dean looked up from the bag. At first, he thought Seamus was referring to him since he'd managed to snag the last piece of fudge - and nice fudge it was too. It only took a moment to realize that Seamus' rage was not about fudge at all.
Seamus was watching through half sheer curtains as Potter and Weasley left the room, laughing and nudging each other back and forth the way most mates did as they left the dorm room they all shared.
Dean didn't comment, decided it was better to just let Seamus fume.
"He's such a bloody wanker," he repeated, bright blue eyes flashing toward Dean. Clearly he wanted a confirmation of this Potter's status as a wanker. "Almost curfew. Hope he gets caught. Weasley too." His frown deepened.
"Come on, Seamus, he's not that bad." Dean tried his best not to grin at Seamus. It only egged him on. Only got everyone's favourite - or at the very least, certainly Dean's - ball of Irish fury more wound up. So instead, Dean reached over and ruffled the smaller bloke's hair.
This was greeted with arm slapping and a flurry of 'Get off me's' from said ball of fury, who was grinning - apparently in spite of himself.
"You like Rugby better anyway, right? Quidditch is just a bunch of silly queers on brooms, right?" Dean asked, nudging the other boy who had crossed his arms and was frowning again.
"Yeah, do." Seamus dug deeper into the bag of candy. "Bloody Quidditch, don't care," he added, pulling out a brightly wrapped chocolate frog.
Dean had introduced Seamus to Rugby in their fifth year when he'd come to stay for a week and Seamus had taken to it famously. Quidditch had become just a bunch of silly queers on brooms only this past month when Seamus managed to do rather spectacularly bad at tryouts. Not to mention the Irish national team had been losing rather miserably lately as well.
Dean reached over the side of his bed with a groan.
Seamus' eyes were on him instantly. He was, Dean figured, probably wondering if he had managed to get any new porn mags from his older brother in Scunthorp. They usually shared the magazine the first night, both laying shoulder to shoulder, hands stuffed in their bottoms, stroking until one or the other would whisper if they were close, then it would be a race to finish. Whichever one came first would get the magazine for the next week.
Sadly for both of them, it wasn't that. Dean was digging around on the floor, half hanging precariously out of the bed as he found it.
"What are you…" Seamus started and then stopped as Dean pulled his brand new maroon and gold Quidditch robe into bed with them.
Dean held it up, the back emblazoned with his last name. Thomas. Dean smiled. Of course, Dean would never wish ill on another person to get on team, but he was glad to be on despite what happened to poor Katie Bell. "Does that make me queer now?" he asked, waving the robe in Seamus' direction, batting his eyelashes, giving Seamus his best mock come-hither stare, making his best mate laugh again.
"I'm cavorting with the enemy, I am, and yeah, does, and a wanker as well," Seamus grumbled, this time more good naturedly, giving Dean a shove, snapping a chocolate frog in half and stuffing the bottom half in Dean's hand.
The magic in the chocolate frog was a bit wonky, because the thing was still trying to give a hop. "Got it today." Dean poked at it with his finger, trying to make it stop before finally giving up, snapping the legs off and eating it.
"Mmm." Seamus' voice was non-committal.
Dean was silent for a moment before laying his Quidditch cloak next to Seamus, looking from him to it. "Kinda cool, huh?" he asked, tempting the boy with another pack of Fizzing Whizbees.
"Yeah, I guess," Seamus sighed, looking at it a moment. "Pretty cool," he added, wiping sticky fingers on his pajama top before picking it up, eyes flickering back to Dean, "Heavier than I thought it'd be." Seamus laid the cloak over his chest, looking down at it.
"I thought so too," Dean said, scooting closer, fingers tracing the gold on the collar, "You're gonna try out again next year with me, right?" he asked, nudging Seamus, snatching the pack of Whizbees from him.
Seamus shrugged.
"Can't imagine going out without you, you know, just be wrong," Dean murmured, popping a couple of the brightly coloured candies in his mouth. Seamus liked the Whizbees better. They always tickled the roof of Dean's mouth, made him shiver. Just felt dodgy. But they were nice and sweet.
Another shrug.
"Come on, you're not really that pissed at Potter, are you?" Dean asked, laying his head on Seamus' shoulder playfully as the candy popped and crackled loudly against his tongue.
"What Ginny not putting out enough for you?" Seamus stuck out his tongue. "Get off." He tried and didn't have much luck pushing Dean's head off his shoulder.
"I'll try and get off later, when I don't have your goofy arse in my bed," Dean counted, shoving back and giving Seamus a hard pinch of one of his nipples through his cloak.
"Ouch, wanker!" Seamus said, slugging Dean in the shoulder, then rubbing his own chest, pulling the Quidditch cloak aside to touch the abused nipple.
"Ron and Harry are out… doing whatever the bloody hell they do after curfew," Dean snorted at that thought. Seamus had gone into vivid details what he thought they 'got up to' just a few nights ago to both him and a very shocked Neville Longbottom.
"Yeah, so?" Seamus arched an eyebrow, but leaned closely, listening conspiratorially.
"Neville…" Dean leaned out of his bed curtains for a moment again, seeing Neville curled up in his bed, with his Herbology book still open, snoring softly. "Neville is out like a light," he added.
"Y-yeah?" Seamus whispered, eyes going wider.
"Was wondering," Dean reached over, stroked a hand over his cloak. The boy under it shivered, shifted, looking uncomfortable. Dean arched an eyebrow. It made him think of that last night he and Seamus had spent at his house over summer. When they'd gotten into his Dad's scotch. That night, they had ended up doing, well doing some things that both pretended hadn't happened the next day.
"Wondering what?" Seamus reached over, touched Dean, the boy' fingers stroking the inside of Dean's arm.
Dean rolled closer, embarrassed, that maybe, just maybe Seamus was thinking, he'd meant something else. And of course, now that the idea was in his head, he couldn't think of anything else. "Try it on," Dean whispered, reaching over, undoing the top two buttons of Seamus' pajama top.
Seamus watched, fingers clutching the cloak, pushing it towards his lap, "It's your cloak, you bloody try it on," he complained even as he sat up, not bothering to unbutton the other buttons and instead quickly pulling his pajama top of his head, the cold air making his skin prickle.
Seamus was fit. Dean had always liked the way Seamus looked without his shirt on. Dean wondered if you could see the bloke's muscles so clearly because he was so bloody pale of it was just he way he was built. Seamus also had nipples second only to Ginny Weasley, which might have been why Dean couldn't help bout reach over and tweak the same large, flat, pink nipple again. This time their wasn't a arm slap or any 'Get off's' so Dean reached over, pinched the other one, watching them harden. Harden. Dean half rolled onto his stomach to hide the hardening between his legs.
"Come on mate, you know you wanna see what it looks like on you," Dean said, smiling a sly half grin.
"Do not," Seamus rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft…" he added, eyes back to lingering on the Quidditch cloak, fingers tracing over the rough, heavy fabric again, tracing the eyelets of the chest lacings pushing the cloak towards his lap.
Dean was sure the bulge down there was bigger than it had been a moment earlier - not that he looked. Well at least not very often, "I won't say anything, you know," Dean shrugged. "We're best mates, right? I mean, I'd want try on yours, if Potter had needed a Beater instead of a Chaser," he said, watching Seamus poke his head out of Dean's bed. Dean assumed he was checking on Neville as well.
There was a long pause before he finally moved. "Bloody cold," Seamus complained, breaking the silence, as he pushed his arms into Dean's cloak, pulling it around him.
"Here…" Dean pushed himself up onto his knees, moving to sit between Seamus' splayed legs, doing up the lacings as he saw Seamus was getting frustrated trying to get it tied up.
"Kind of scratchy," Seamus murmured, smoothing the cloak over his bare chest, smile widening.
"Well that's why we don't wear just the cloak, you know," Dean whispered, kneeling up, eyes focused on the cloak.
Seamus was holding his breath. When Dean finally had finished gliding the lacings effortlessly through the eyelets and looked down at Seamus, he saw what Seamus was looking at. Dean's cock was straining lewdly against the front of his pajamas.
"Yeah, course," Seamus whispered, reaching for his wand, casting a silencing charm in the bed. Just like they did those nights that there was a new magazine.
When Seamus laid his wand down on the bed, his fingers brushed over Dean's skin, the knuckles of Seamus' hands brushing back and forth of Dean's hips where the pajama bottoms rode low. "Need a wank." Dean let out a soft sigh.
"Me too," the Irish boy let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering down to his own tenting pajama bottoms, the tip of Seamus' pale cock was peaking through the gap in the fly.
Dean reached over, pulled the gap wider, watching as Seamus' cock slide through the opening with very little coaxing throbbing, untouched. Pale, fat, not really that long, but long enough for Dean to get a good grip on he figured, if he wanted to. Part of him really wanted to.
In fifth year, they had all - even Neville - sat around late one night. Dean didn't remember how it had started. They'd been taking turns, passing around the third of a bottle of rum that Seamus had managed to smuggle in after Christmas. They'd ended up using Neville's wand to measure themselves, guessing at size, seeing who was the biggest. No one would fess up to who was the most curious, who ended up suggesting it, but in a matter of minutes all of them had their dicks out, all of them were already hard. Everyone was a bit surprised that there was no contest at bloody all. Neville Long -who would have ever guessed how apt that was-bottom, was hung like a bloody bull. It was Dean next and then Ron. Harry and Seamus were nearly identical, so close in fact that Ron had come up with the idea of making them stand side by side, holding the wand between them as the tie breaking. After several measurements that left Neville's wand a bit sticky, it was decided that Seamus was most certainly fatter and Harry was just a tiny bit longer. Well more than a tiny bit, but no one wanted to make Seamus feel bad. And Dean liked how Seamus' dick was so thick that you could barely get a hand around it. Dean was finding it easier though than he'd expected it would be, his hand sliding back the foreskin.
Seamus let out a shaky breath, eyes glued to the curtains as if he was afraid someone would come in at any moment. The tip was gleaming with pre-come. Dean's thumb spread the fluid down along the underside of Seamus' cock. "Ginny got me, um, all worked up earlier," Dean explained as though that made what they were doing not in the least dodgy.
Seamus gasped, hand moving up shakily to tug on Dean's pajama bottoms, pulling them down past his arse, reaching in to pull out Dean's cock, fingers stroking through the dark wiry patch of pubic hair, each boy marveling in the other's difference. "Wha- what she do?"
"We were snoggin'," Dean straddled Seamus' waist, letting his cock slide over Seamus' over the boy's taut stomach, watching, thinking it looked really brilliant, the two of them, one so dark, the other so pale.
"Yeah?" Seamus whimpered, using both hands, stroking them together, as Dean's hips rocked back and forth.
"Was touching me, feeling how bloody hard I was, thought she was gonna make me come in my pants," Dean hissed, hands rucking open his Quidditch cloak, exposing more of Seamus' skin, "Begged her not to stop," Dean's fingers traced over Seamus's chest, making the other boy shiver, noticing the blush that was covering his cheeks was creeping over the boy's upper chest.
"But she did?" Seamus bit his lower lip, making Dean's foreskin slide over the head of his own cock. "Cruel, mate, that's just cruel," he commiserated, the fingers of his other hand teasing down the crack of Dean's arse.
Dean leaned forward, he could smell candy on the other boy's breath, could smell the heady scent of their arousals. "We're mates right?" he whispered, waited for Seamus to nod, before they both closed the gap, kissing clumsily, teeth knocking together, sucking on each other's lips. He wasn't sure why he felt like he had to ask that question, it was daft really if he'd thought about it. Hell, they'd been mates since first year.
"Shite, Dean," Seamus breathed, arching his hips off the bed.
Dean licked the palm of his hand, spit into it and pushed Seamus' hand away, took over, pining the smaller bloke down with his weight, stroking them faster, as though this was a better, newer race than any they'd had before. "First one that comes…" Dean gasped, gritting his teeth, thinking it was unfair that Seamus had leverage to tickle his balls like that to play with his arse.
"Yeah?" Came Seamus' own ragged grunt.
"Has to…" There was a long pause.
"Do something to the other one?" Seamus offered, not looking Dean in the eye, watching Dean pump their cocks together, light and dark skin sliding back and forth, slick with each other's pre-come, slick with Dean's spit, Dean pulling back to lick his hand and change hands, tasting the musk of their flesh each time.
Dean nodded. "We… we should agree on what," he whispered, leaning down for a harder kiss. Funny how kissing a bloke was so different; the wispy little bits of hair on Seamus' face tickled. Wasn't exactly something he'd thought about.
"Yeah, should," Seamus whispered back, the boy's hands stroking down the furrow of his ass now, teasing, touching him in places he didn't even know it would feel good to be touched in.
"First one that come, has to," There was a long pause. Dean was afraid to say it. As if saying it made it more real than what they were doing right now. Only when he felt it building knew it wouldn't be long for either of them did he manage to ground out, "suck the other one off. Deal?"
"Yeah, deal," Seamus nodded, sucking on the side of Dean's neck.
"Don't leave a mark," Dean complained, feeing Seamus mouth open in a silent groan, nipping at his skin when Dean's thumb stroked over the head of Seamus' cock. He was glad of the silencing spell when he found just the right spot, made Seamus cry out, the boy shaking as he did it again and again until Seamus was splattering his own pale smooth skin and Dean's cloak with come. "Win…" Was all Dean could manage before he was coming as well, adding to the mess, the stench of sweat and come hung in the air, masking all hints of Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs and Cockroach Clusters.
"Fuck, no fair," Seamus complained, watching Dean rub his cock through the mess on his chest, sprawling out of Dean's bed.
"Fair and square," Dean panted, wiping his brow his the back of his hand trying to catch his breath. "Tomorrow night, after curfew, sneak over, deal's a deal," he added, reaching up and tentatively spreading some of the stickiness over Seamus' lips. It was automatic Dean figured to lick them. He watched a pink tongue lap it away.
"What's it like?" Dean murmured.
Seamus shrugged, then whispered, "Hot." He obviously meant the cloak, pulling it off, mopping his skin dry, before pushing the soiled cloak outside the bed curtains.
"What's it like?" Dean repeated, watching Seamus shrug, Dean's fingers stroking over Seamus' side, staring at him until he answered.
"Just kinda odd, I guess, not… not bad," was the soft answer that came after a moment. Dean was ready to kiss him again when Harry and Ron came lumbering back in, obviously trying to be quiet. Which meant they were making entirely too much noise.
"Should go," Seamus said, instantly looking guilty for what they'd just done.
"Yeah, bedtime and all… classes," Dean added lamely.
"Yeah, classes," Seamus rooted around, found his pajama top and slipped it back on, moving his hands away to let Dean button it up.
"We're still cool, right?" Dean worried his lower lip, reaching down to run his hand across Seamus' sticky cock.
"Course," Seamus shrugged, smiling, tucking himself with Dean's help back into his bottoms, their fingers lacing together for a moment as either Harry or Ron turned out the lights illuminating their room. "You're me best mate, right?"
"Right," Dean smiled, sliding back to his side of the bed, not bothering to get dressed, in fact, he thought it was way too hot for clothes after what they'd done, course he wasn't the one that had to get out and go to his own bed.
"Tomorrow night," Seamus whispered, one leg sliding out of the bed.
"Yeah?" Dean cocked his head to one side.
"After curfew, right?"
Dean smiled broadly, "That was the deal."
"All right then, wanker, see you after curfew," Seamus tried to play it cocky, but his voice cracked as he pushed himself up, his hand straying over Dean's lap before, sliding between the curtains of the bed, clambering out, making a loud show of letting everyone in the room - that might not be asleep - know that they'd gorged themselves on candy and talked about girls.
Dean let out a pent up sigh, spreading himself out to take up his entire bed, the candy wrappers sticking to his sweaty skin. In the morning he would wake up with Helga Hufflepuffs Chocolate Frog card practically glued to his bum as though it had been hexed there and it would all be very uncomfortable, but for right now, nothing could deflate his mood or his cock. All he could do is lay there and think about what was promised for tomorrow night.
end
Author: Chad
Pairing: Dean/Seamus
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the person with all the money and the fabulous idea for this little playground. If I owned them all, sadly there would be far less plot, Hogwarts would most likely be a boys school and this kinda thing would happen, all the time.
Notes: nothingbutfic for the beta and encouragement. mistletoemagic story for: baleheadbabe
The space in Dean Thomas' bed that wasn't taken up with himself and his best mate was littered with brightly coloured wrappers. The boys were lying close in a bed that had seemed so much bigger last year. Now Dean had to curl up a bit, just to keep his legs from dangling over the sides. They were wearing clashing plaid pajamas, legs tangled together as both of them tried to stuff their hands into a large paper sack a once, raiding what was left of Dean's stash of Honeydukes sweets.
"Wanker." Seamus hissed it under his breath, giving Harry Potter's backside the dreaded Finnigan death glare from behind the curtains of Dean's bed, safe and sound. His lips were curled into a petulant sneer that would give even Draco Malfoy a run for his money.
Dean looked up from the bag. At first, he thought Seamus was referring to him since he'd managed to snag the last piece of fudge - and nice fudge it was too. It only took a moment to realize that Seamus' rage was not about fudge at all.
Seamus was watching through half sheer curtains as Potter and Weasley left the room, laughing and nudging each other back and forth the way most mates did as they left the dorm room they all shared.
Dean didn't comment, decided it was better to just let Seamus fume.
"He's such a bloody wanker," he repeated, bright blue eyes flashing toward Dean. Clearly he wanted a confirmation of this Potter's status as a wanker. "Almost curfew. Hope he gets caught. Weasley too." His frown deepened.
"Come on, Seamus, he's not that bad." Dean tried his best not to grin at Seamus. It only egged him on. Only got everyone's favourite - or at the very least, certainly Dean's - ball of Irish fury more wound up. So instead, Dean reached over and ruffled the smaller bloke's hair.
This was greeted with arm slapping and a flurry of 'Get off me's' from said ball of fury, who was grinning - apparently in spite of himself.
"You like Rugby better anyway, right? Quidditch is just a bunch of silly queers on brooms, right?" Dean asked, nudging the other boy who had crossed his arms and was frowning again.
"Yeah, do." Seamus dug deeper into the bag of candy. "Bloody Quidditch, don't care," he added, pulling out a brightly wrapped chocolate frog.
Dean had introduced Seamus to Rugby in their fifth year when he'd come to stay for a week and Seamus had taken to it famously. Quidditch had become just a bunch of silly queers on brooms only this past month when Seamus managed to do rather spectacularly bad at tryouts. Not to mention the Irish national team had been losing rather miserably lately as well.
Dean reached over the side of his bed with a groan.
Seamus' eyes were on him instantly. He was, Dean figured, probably wondering if he had managed to get any new porn mags from his older brother in Scunthorp. They usually shared the magazine the first night, both laying shoulder to shoulder, hands stuffed in their bottoms, stroking until one or the other would whisper if they were close, then it would be a race to finish. Whichever one came first would get the magazine for the next week.
Sadly for both of them, it wasn't that. Dean was digging around on the floor, half hanging precariously out of the bed as he found it.
"What are you…" Seamus started and then stopped as Dean pulled his brand new maroon and gold Quidditch robe into bed with them.
Dean held it up, the back emblazoned with his last name. Thomas. Dean smiled. Of course, Dean would never wish ill on another person to get on team, but he was glad to be on despite what happened to poor Katie Bell. "Does that make me queer now?" he asked, waving the robe in Seamus' direction, batting his eyelashes, giving Seamus his best mock come-hither stare, making his best mate laugh again.
"I'm cavorting with the enemy, I am, and yeah, does, and a wanker as well," Seamus grumbled, this time more good naturedly, giving Dean a shove, snapping a chocolate frog in half and stuffing the bottom half in Dean's hand.
The magic in the chocolate frog was a bit wonky, because the thing was still trying to give a hop. "Got it today." Dean poked at it with his finger, trying to make it stop before finally giving up, snapping the legs off and eating it.
"Mmm." Seamus' voice was non-committal.
Dean was silent for a moment before laying his Quidditch cloak next to Seamus, looking from him to it. "Kinda cool, huh?" he asked, tempting the boy with another pack of Fizzing Whizbees.
"Yeah, I guess," Seamus sighed, looking at it a moment. "Pretty cool," he added, wiping sticky fingers on his pajama top before picking it up, eyes flickering back to Dean, "Heavier than I thought it'd be." Seamus laid the cloak over his chest, looking down at it.
"I thought so too," Dean said, scooting closer, fingers tracing the gold on the collar, "You're gonna try out again next year with me, right?" he asked, nudging Seamus, snatching the pack of Whizbees from him.
Seamus shrugged.
"Can't imagine going out without you, you know, just be wrong," Dean murmured, popping a couple of the brightly coloured candies in his mouth. Seamus liked the Whizbees better. They always tickled the roof of Dean's mouth, made him shiver. Just felt dodgy. But they were nice and sweet.
Another shrug.
"Come on, you're not really that pissed at Potter, are you?" Dean asked, laying his head on Seamus' shoulder playfully as the candy popped and crackled loudly against his tongue.
"What Ginny not putting out enough for you?" Seamus stuck out his tongue. "Get off." He tried and didn't have much luck pushing Dean's head off his shoulder.
"I'll try and get off later, when I don't have your goofy arse in my bed," Dean counted, shoving back and giving Seamus a hard pinch of one of his nipples through his cloak.
"Ouch, wanker!" Seamus said, slugging Dean in the shoulder, then rubbing his own chest, pulling the Quidditch cloak aside to touch the abused nipple.
"Ron and Harry are out… doing whatever the bloody hell they do after curfew," Dean snorted at that thought. Seamus had gone into vivid details what he thought they 'got up to' just a few nights ago to both him and a very shocked Neville Longbottom.
"Yeah, so?" Seamus arched an eyebrow, but leaned closely, listening conspiratorially.
"Neville…" Dean leaned out of his bed curtains for a moment again, seeing Neville curled up in his bed, with his Herbology book still open, snoring softly. "Neville is out like a light," he added.
"Y-yeah?" Seamus whispered, eyes going wider.
"Was wondering," Dean reached over, stroked a hand over his cloak. The boy under it shivered, shifted, looking uncomfortable. Dean arched an eyebrow. It made him think of that last night he and Seamus had spent at his house over summer. When they'd gotten into his Dad's scotch. That night, they had ended up doing, well doing some things that both pretended hadn't happened the next day.
"Wondering what?" Seamus reached over, touched Dean, the boy' fingers stroking the inside of Dean's arm.
Dean rolled closer, embarrassed, that maybe, just maybe Seamus was thinking, he'd meant something else. And of course, now that the idea was in his head, he couldn't think of anything else. "Try it on," Dean whispered, reaching over, undoing the top two buttons of Seamus' pajama top.
Seamus watched, fingers clutching the cloak, pushing it towards his lap, "It's your cloak, you bloody try it on," he complained even as he sat up, not bothering to unbutton the other buttons and instead quickly pulling his pajama top of his head, the cold air making his skin prickle.
Seamus was fit. Dean had always liked the way Seamus looked without his shirt on. Dean wondered if you could see the bloke's muscles so clearly because he was so bloody pale of it was just he way he was built. Seamus also had nipples second only to Ginny Weasley, which might have been why Dean couldn't help bout reach over and tweak the same large, flat, pink nipple again. This time their wasn't a arm slap or any 'Get off's' so Dean reached over, pinched the other one, watching them harden. Harden. Dean half rolled onto his stomach to hide the hardening between his legs.
"Come on mate, you know you wanna see what it looks like on you," Dean said, smiling a sly half grin.
"Do not," Seamus rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft…" he added, eyes back to lingering on the Quidditch cloak, fingers tracing over the rough, heavy fabric again, tracing the eyelets of the chest lacings pushing the cloak towards his lap.
Dean was sure the bulge down there was bigger than it had been a moment earlier - not that he looked. Well at least not very often, "I won't say anything, you know," Dean shrugged. "We're best mates, right? I mean, I'd want try on yours, if Potter had needed a Beater instead of a Chaser," he said, watching Seamus poke his head out of Dean's bed. Dean assumed he was checking on Neville as well.
There was a long pause before he finally moved. "Bloody cold," Seamus complained, breaking the silence, as he pushed his arms into Dean's cloak, pulling it around him.
"Here…" Dean pushed himself up onto his knees, moving to sit between Seamus' splayed legs, doing up the lacings as he saw Seamus was getting frustrated trying to get it tied up.
"Kind of scratchy," Seamus murmured, smoothing the cloak over his bare chest, smile widening.
"Well that's why we don't wear just the cloak, you know," Dean whispered, kneeling up, eyes focused on the cloak.
Seamus was holding his breath. When Dean finally had finished gliding the lacings effortlessly through the eyelets and looked down at Seamus, he saw what Seamus was looking at. Dean's cock was straining lewdly against the front of his pajamas.
"Yeah, course," Seamus whispered, reaching for his wand, casting a silencing charm in the bed. Just like they did those nights that there was a new magazine.
When Seamus laid his wand down on the bed, his fingers brushed over Dean's skin, the knuckles of Seamus' hands brushing back and forth of Dean's hips where the pajama bottoms rode low. "Need a wank." Dean let out a soft sigh.
"Me too," the Irish boy let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering down to his own tenting pajama bottoms, the tip of Seamus' pale cock was peaking through the gap in the fly.
Dean reached over, pulled the gap wider, watching as Seamus' cock slide through the opening with very little coaxing throbbing, untouched. Pale, fat, not really that long, but long enough for Dean to get a good grip on he figured, if he wanted to. Part of him really wanted to.
In fifth year, they had all - even Neville - sat around late one night. Dean didn't remember how it had started. They'd been taking turns, passing around the third of a bottle of rum that Seamus had managed to smuggle in after Christmas. They'd ended up using Neville's wand to measure themselves, guessing at size, seeing who was the biggest. No one would fess up to who was the most curious, who ended up suggesting it, but in a matter of minutes all of them had their dicks out, all of them were already hard. Everyone was a bit surprised that there was no contest at bloody all. Neville Long -who would have ever guessed how apt that was-bottom, was hung like a bloody bull. It was Dean next and then Ron. Harry and Seamus were nearly identical, so close in fact that Ron had come up with the idea of making them stand side by side, holding the wand between them as the tie breaking. After several measurements that left Neville's wand a bit sticky, it was decided that Seamus was most certainly fatter and Harry was just a tiny bit longer. Well more than a tiny bit, but no one wanted to make Seamus feel bad. And Dean liked how Seamus' dick was so thick that you could barely get a hand around it. Dean was finding it easier though than he'd expected it would be, his hand sliding back the foreskin.
Seamus let out a shaky breath, eyes glued to the curtains as if he was afraid someone would come in at any moment. The tip was gleaming with pre-come. Dean's thumb spread the fluid down along the underside of Seamus' cock. "Ginny got me, um, all worked up earlier," Dean explained as though that made what they were doing not in the least dodgy.
Seamus gasped, hand moving up shakily to tug on Dean's pajama bottoms, pulling them down past his arse, reaching in to pull out Dean's cock, fingers stroking through the dark wiry patch of pubic hair, each boy marveling in the other's difference. "Wha- what she do?"
"We were snoggin'," Dean straddled Seamus' waist, letting his cock slide over Seamus' over the boy's taut stomach, watching, thinking it looked really brilliant, the two of them, one so dark, the other so pale.
"Yeah?" Seamus whimpered, using both hands, stroking them together, as Dean's hips rocked back and forth.
"Was touching me, feeling how bloody hard I was, thought she was gonna make me come in my pants," Dean hissed, hands rucking open his Quidditch cloak, exposing more of Seamus' skin, "Begged her not to stop," Dean's fingers traced over Seamus's chest, making the other boy shiver, noticing the blush that was covering his cheeks was creeping over the boy's upper chest.
"But she did?" Seamus bit his lower lip, making Dean's foreskin slide over the head of his own cock. "Cruel, mate, that's just cruel," he commiserated, the fingers of his other hand teasing down the crack of Dean's arse.
Dean leaned forward, he could smell candy on the other boy's breath, could smell the heady scent of their arousals. "We're mates right?" he whispered, waited for Seamus to nod, before they both closed the gap, kissing clumsily, teeth knocking together, sucking on each other's lips. He wasn't sure why he felt like he had to ask that question, it was daft really if he'd thought about it. Hell, they'd been mates since first year.
"Shite, Dean," Seamus breathed, arching his hips off the bed.
Dean licked the palm of his hand, spit into it and pushed Seamus' hand away, took over, pining the smaller bloke down with his weight, stroking them faster, as though this was a better, newer race than any they'd had before. "First one that comes…" Dean gasped, gritting his teeth, thinking it was unfair that Seamus had leverage to tickle his balls like that to play with his arse.
"Yeah?" Came Seamus' own ragged grunt.
"Has to…" There was a long pause.
"Do something to the other one?" Seamus offered, not looking Dean in the eye, watching Dean pump their cocks together, light and dark skin sliding back and forth, slick with each other's pre-come, slick with Dean's spit, Dean pulling back to lick his hand and change hands, tasting the musk of their flesh each time.
Dean nodded. "We… we should agree on what," he whispered, leaning down for a harder kiss. Funny how kissing a bloke was so different; the wispy little bits of hair on Seamus' face tickled. Wasn't exactly something he'd thought about.
"Yeah, should," Seamus whispered back, the boy's hands stroking down the furrow of his ass now, teasing, touching him in places he didn't even know it would feel good to be touched in.
"First one that come, has to," There was a long pause. Dean was afraid to say it. As if saying it made it more real than what they were doing right now. Only when he felt it building knew it wouldn't be long for either of them did he manage to ground out, "suck the other one off. Deal?"
"Yeah, deal," Seamus nodded, sucking on the side of Dean's neck.
"Don't leave a mark," Dean complained, feeing Seamus mouth open in a silent groan, nipping at his skin when Dean's thumb stroked over the head of Seamus' cock. He was glad of the silencing spell when he found just the right spot, made Seamus cry out, the boy shaking as he did it again and again until Seamus was splattering his own pale smooth skin and Dean's cloak with come. "Win…" Was all Dean could manage before he was coming as well, adding to the mess, the stench of sweat and come hung in the air, masking all hints of Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs and Cockroach Clusters.
"Fuck, no fair," Seamus complained, watching Dean rub his cock through the mess on his chest, sprawling out of Dean's bed.
"Fair and square," Dean panted, wiping his brow his the back of his hand trying to catch his breath. "Tomorrow night, after curfew, sneak over, deal's a deal," he added, reaching up and tentatively spreading some of the stickiness over Seamus' lips. It was automatic Dean figured to lick them. He watched a pink tongue lap it away.
"What's it like?" Dean murmured.
Seamus shrugged, then whispered, "Hot." He obviously meant the cloak, pulling it off, mopping his skin dry, before pushing the soiled cloak outside the bed curtains.
"What's it like?" Dean repeated, watching Seamus shrug, Dean's fingers stroking over Seamus' side, staring at him until he answered.
"Just kinda odd, I guess, not… not bad," was the soft answer that came after a moment. Dean was ready to kiss him again when Harry and Ron came lumbering back in, obviously trying to be quiet. Which meant they were making entirely too much noise.
"Should go," Seamus said, instantly looking guilty for what they'd just done.
"Yeah, bedtime and all… classes," Dean added lamely.
"Yeah, classes," Seamus rooted around, found his pajama top and slipped it back on, moving his hands away to let Dean button it up.
"We're still cool, right?" Dean worried his lower lip, reaching down to run his hand across Seamus' sticky cock.
"Course," Seamus shrugged, smiling, tucking himself with Dean's help back into his bottoms, their fingers lacing together for a moment as either Harry or Ron turned out the lights illuminating their room. "You're me best mate, right?"
"Right," Dean smiled, sliding back to his side of the bed, not bothering to get dressed, in fact, he thought it was way too hot for clothes after what they'd done, course he wasn't the one that had to get out and go to his own bed.
"Tomorrow night," Seamus whispered, one leg sliding out of the bed.
"Yeah?" Dean cocked his head to one side.
"After curfew, right?"
Dean smiled broadly, "That was the deal."
"All right then, wanker, see you after curfew," Seamus tried to play it cocky, but his voice cracked as he pushed himself up, his hand straying over Dean's lap before, sliding between the curtains of the bed, clambering out, making a loud show of letting everyone in the room - that might not be asleep - know that they'd gorged themselves on candy and talked about girls.
Dean let out a pent up sigh, spreading himself out to take up his entire bed, the candy wrappers sticking to his sweaty skin. In the morning he would wake up with Helga Hufflepuffs Chocolate Frog card practically glued to his bum as though it had been hexed there and it would all be very uncomfortable, but for right now, nothing could deflate his mood or his cock. All he could do is lay there and think about what was promised for tomorrow night.
end