A Bit Like A Half-Windsor

~~~~~~~~~

Seamus was sprawled on his bed, engrossed in a homework assignment, when Dean walked into their dormitory.

Dean quietly shut the door behind him, and leant against the wooden frame, watching. Seamus didn't seem to have noticed that he'd come in. They were alone, a rarity in and of itself; the impending NEWTs had propelled his fellow Gryffindors to Hufflepuff-like levels of dogged studiousness.

Save for the scratchings of Seamus' quill on parchment, the room was silent. It was late afternoon; the sunlight that filled the dormitory had softened to a pale gold that made Seamus' auburn hair look almost red. Dean smiled faintly, straightened himself, and walked up to Seamus' bed.

When Dean's shadow fell across his parchment and books, Seamus looked up.

"Arithmancy?" Dean asked, when he saw which book Seamus was using as an armrest.

"Nah, Potions," Seamus replied, making a face. He sat up, and patted a spot on the bed beside him. Dean took the invitation willingly, and plopped down beside him.

"Long essay?" Dean had heard Ron Weasley complaining to Seamus about too many Potions assignments the night before.

Seamus shook his head. "Yeah, but it isn't tough." He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Well, yeah, all right, it is -- but it's not hard hard, you know?"

Dean laughed faintly. "No, really, I don't- but I'll take your word for it. Glad I dropped Potions, mind you."

"Heh. Yeah. 'S not bad, though. Tough, but not bad." Seamus shuffled some of his things around to give Dean more room.

"Snape's still a bastard?"

Seamus laughed and collapsed on his pillow, a grin still on his face. "If Snape weren't a bastard, the world would come to a grinding halt."

"I bet you're right," Dean said, stretching out on the bed beside Seamus. "Got much left to do?"

"Nah, 'm almost done," he said, stacking his papers and books on the floor. "I have a few more paragraphs to write, and a conclusion to tack on -- did that first, essays're always easier that way -- and then I'm gonna sit on it f'r a few days. It's not due 'til next week-"

"Oh," Dean said as he nuzzled Seamus' neck, "So you can take a break, hm?" Dean blew softly against Seamus' neck, just below his ear, so close he could almost feel the blood pulsing beneath that pale skin, could smell the soap Seamus had used that morning.

Seamus laughed and drew Dean's arms around him. "For a bit, yeah." He turned in the embrace to face Dean. Dean pulled back a little to meet Seamus' eyes.

"That's good," he whispered. "That's good. A bit's all we need, really."

Seamus kissed him, briefly, at the corner of his mouth. "We sure Ron 'n Neville aren't going to come rushing in this time?"

Dean scowled at the memory of that. It had been an odd, awkward moment; he was glad that they'd been -- mostly -- clothed at the time. Dean still wasn't sure he was happy Ron was pretending it hadn't happened. "Yeah. I put a quick locking charm on the door before I came in."

Seamus laughed darkly. "Oh, good."

"Yeah, 'cause I really don't want to be interrupted this time." He ran his fingers through Seamus' hair. "Lie on your back," Dean added, softly.

Seamus complied, stretching out on the bed as Dean straddled him. He was smiling faintly, eyes hooded, hands pressed flat against the head-board. "Something you want to show me?"

"Something like that, yeah. Now, don't move."

Dean bent forward and unknotted Seamus' tie. He met Seamus' eyes, and slid the length of fabric out from his shirt collar. He wrapped it slowly, slowly around his hand. Seamus was following the motion, his eyes going round and round and round.

"Don't you have your own tie?" Seamus asked, his gaze darting to Dean's neck -- and Dean's own red and gold tie.

A snort. "It's more fun with yours."

Seamus craned his head up, smirking defiantly. "Show me, then."

Dean leaned closer and kissed him. He moved his hands up to pin Seamus' arms to the bed. He did not break the kiss. Seamus' mouth was warm and had a faint aftertaste of that day's lunch.

Seamus made a soft, contented noise when Dean finally pulled away. "Now that was nice," he said, "but 'm still not sure what its gotta do with my tie."

"I'm getting to that. God, but you're impatient."

Seamus only laughed.

Dean unwound the tie from his hand, bent forward and looped it around Seamus' wrists. He knotted it deftly, using the only knot he could remember, the same one he did every morning -- a slightly modified Half-Windsor that his father had shown to him before Dean had begun at Hogwarts.

He heard Seamus suck in a deep breath as he tied the ends around the base of one of the fanciful carvings adorning the headboard. Dean inched back and smiled.

Seamus twisted his neck to look at his hands, and then turned back at Dean, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "Ooohh... " he said.

"Yeah." Dean began to unbutton Seamus' shirt, every so often brushing his fingertips against Seamus' skin. He smirked when he saw Seamus bite his lower lip. "Yeah," he repeated. Once he had the shirt opened wide, he lightly ran his hands down Seamus' chest. Seamus might not be beautiful -- too pale, too hairy, too scrawny -- but in Dean's eyes, he was perfect anyway, perfect because he was Seamus.

Dean traced lazy circles around Seamus' nipples -- first one, and then the other, back and forth like a figure eight. Seamus was breathing heavily now, eyes wide and fixed on Dean. His skin felt warm beneath Dean's touch.

When Dean drew his hand away, Seamus turned his face to his sleeve, whimpering softly. Dean felt close to that himself. His own pulse was faster, his breathing irregular.

Dean leaned closer and flicked his tongue against Seamus' left nipple. he was rewarded with a sharp gasp. It was like music to his ears. He gave a harder flick to the other. Seamus moaned louder. Dean chuckled to himself.

"You like?"

A breathy laugh. "Yeah, I still do. It's only been how many months?"

"Guess there are just something you don't get tired of."

"I know. Kiss me again, will you?"

Dean complied and met his lips willingly. He made a happy noise as Seamus began to trail kisses up his jaw line.

"Keep going," Seamus whispered in his ear.

Dean did so. He straightened, and set his right hand over Seamus' groin. Beneath the heavy fabric of the trousers, he could feel the warmth of Seamus' cock, already hard. He curled his fingers around it, keeping his eyes on Seamus. A flush had crept up his pale cheeks and his eyes were hooded and dark. So fucking sexy. So hot.

Dean licked his lips and slid his hand down to the base of Seamus' cock.

"This is what you meant, I take it?" Dean said, and squeezed gently.

Seamus replied with only a throaty moan, his head thrown back.

Dean shifted his weight, giving room to his own growing erection. Seamus met his eyes, lips curling up in a knowing smile.

"You like it, too," Seamus said, his gaze darting downwards and his smile growing wider.

Dean only shook his head, and began to stroke the length of Seamus' cock, the wool fabric of Seamus' trousers rough beneath Dean's fingers.

"Ohgod," Seamus gasped, and arched his body upwards, pressing himself against Dean's hand.

"Oh, yes."

Dean redoubled his efforts, stroking and squeezing, watching Seamus writhe and tug at his bonds, eyes wide and unfocused. By now Dean felt almost hypnotised, transfixed by the heat and pressure of his own erection, caught between their two bodies and twitching in sync with Seamus'.

It took not much more effort before Seamus came -- eyes clenched shut and whispering "oh god, oh god" as he did, the words almost slurred into sobs.

"That's going to be hell to clean up."

Seamus laughed weakly. "Yeah. Same for you."

Dean shook his head and looked down. Seamus followed his gaze. Dean was still hard, his erection throbbing in his trousers. "No, not yet."

A look came into Seamus' eyes at that and he arched an eyebrow at Dean, giving his wrists a shake.

Dean leaned forward, keeping his mind on horrendously dull things like homework -- watching Seamus had almost been enough to make him come -- and careful not to brush Seamus with his cock, as he loosened Seamus' bonds. He had an idea what Seamus was planning to do.

As Seamus finished freeing his hands, Dean moved to the right so he was no longer straddling him. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. They helped, somewhat. There was no use ending this before it even began.

Seamus turned to face him. His hands rose to Dean's collar, to loosen Dean's tie.

"Here now," he said. "It's my turn."

The Archive