Seamus Finnigan stood on one foot near the Portkey Arrivals area at the Ministry of Magic in Athens. Never the most patient of men, he had devised small games to keep himself distracted while waiting for the 13.09 from London. The current game consisted of standing on one foot as long as possible before switching, which worked best if one kept still. Seamus found it difficult to keep still, under even the best of circumstances.
Dean Thomas was going to be here in a few minutes. Here in Greece. Here to see Seamus for the first time since they had parted two months earlier, when Seamus left an England recovering from war to complete his Mediwizard training. Seamus hadn't thought it would be possible to miss Dean more than he had during the war, when each parting could have been their last. But as Dean himself had pointed out after it was over, they hadn't been living then. They had been holding their breath.
Now Seamus had a life again, but it was a life without Dean, or at least without the physical presence of Dean. Sure, there were owls twice a day like clockwork, some with words and some covered with little sketches and doodles that said so much more. Weekly conversations through the fireplace teased, as though if Seamus could just reach out in the right way, he could scratch his fingertips on Dean's stubbled chin without even burning his fingers.
Seamus had known even from the war that being completely faithful was probably unrealistic. They were so young. The result of a summer of discussions was an agreement to emotional monogamy. Sure, they'd play around with other boys—they were young and horny, after all. But no more than three dates, and nothing beyond the occasional blow job. The romantic side of Seamus had insisted that there be no actual fucking with these other boys. He and Dean had been each other's first, and he wanted them to remain the only.
Suddenly there was a loud rush of air. Seamus looked through the windows into the Portkey room as the new arrivals appeared, somewhat disheveled but not much the worse for wear. An enormous grin spread across his face as he saw Dean Thomas come through the door.
"Hello, you!" Seamus said.
"Hello, you," Dean replied. "You are so brown! And your hair is so blond and so long—doesn't it get in your way?"
"Not really. And didn't you once say, 'the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice'? Why should that be true for you and not me?"
"Sweeter you could not be, love," Dean whispered, pulling Seamus into a hug. He put his lips next to his lover's ear and whispered, "We need to go home and fuck right now."
Seamus pulled away, laughing. "Your wish is my command, sir." They traveled by Floo to the small beach bungalow Seamus shared with Hermione. Once they arrived, Seamus dragged Dean into the bedroom and shut his door.
The bedroom was simple—two small chairs, a bedside table, a wardrobe. The bed was in the corner, under a large window facing the ocean, and the bright early afternoon sun streamed into the room. The curtains and bed linens were crisp and white. The light, airy room was a stark contrast to the dark rooms they had shared in school, with their deep red bed curtains and small castle windows.
"Silencing charm, Seamus?" Dean asked, putting his bag down in the corner.
Seamus shook his head. "Ms. Granger will not be returning from the library until half seven, whereupon she will be cooking us dinner."
Dean smiled. "Ms. Granger is a very considerate housemate." Suddenly, Dean felt a little cold, and realized that his clothing and shoes had been removed, and were now neatly folded in a pile atop his bag. But he didn't remember hearing Seamus say anything, much less wave his wand. "Seamus?"
"On the bed, Thomas," Seamus said.
Confused, Dean sat on the end of the bed.
Seamus frowned. "No, on your stomach."
As Dean rolled over, pulling his knees under his chest and a pillow beneath his head, he felt the familiar coldness of the lubrication charm. But again, he hadn't heard Seamus say anything. He looked over his shoulder at his lover, who was naked himself and walking toward the bed, his cock rock hard and bobbing slightly. Dean concentrated on breathing slowly.
"Close your eyes, love," Seamus whispered. "Turn your head away, that's right."
Dean could feel Seamus's fingers sliding into him, preparing him, though he was so excited he doubted he needed much preparation. Then again, he hadn't done this in months. Seamus's other hand slowly rubbed a circle on his lower back, and Dean sighed. He relaxed his shoulders into the bed, raising his arse up toward Seamus's touch.
"Eager, are we?" Seamus asked.
Dean could only nod. Seamus had moved his hands to Dean's hips, and began to slowly, steadily push his cock into Dean, who responded by pushing backwards.
"Oh, we are eager," whispered Seamus.
Dean groaned into the pillow. How they had managed without this for the last six months, Dean couldn't imagine. Then Seamus began thrusting, hard and deep and fast, and Dean stopped thinking. His universe contracted to this room, this bed that smelled of Seamus, the warmth of the sunlight on his back, the soft sounds Seamus was making, and the feeling of his lover's penis, deep inside him.
Seamus slid one hand in front of Dean, sliding down his stomach to his penis, and began to stroke in rhythm with his thrusts. Dean moaned.
"Nice to know you aren't asleep, love," Seamus whispered. He picked up the pace even more, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, until Dean cried out, his body tensing, his arse clenching around Seamus's cock, bringing on Seamus's own orgasm moments later. Seamus collapsed atop his lover, panting, then softly slipped out of him and rolled onto his back on the bed next to Dean.
Dean reached over and placed a hand on Seamus's chest, softly stroking the dense thatch of silky light brown hair. "You do know how to welcome a bloke, don't you?"
"A bit of a quickie, just what the doctor ordered. This doctor, anyway." Seamus laughed a little, admitting, "I doubt I could have lasted much longer, anyway."
"No," Dean agreed, pulling Seamus closer and kissing him softly. They nestled together in the sunshine, staring into each other's eyes as if to memorize the face before them.
Then Seamus, feeling the wet stickiness on Dean's stomach, said, "Shower?"
Seamus got up from the bed and led the way to a bathroom sitting just off the living room that separated Seamus and Hermione's bedrooms. "Plumbing's ancient," Seamus said, "so the hot water will take a minute."
As Seamus fiddled with the taps, Dean surveyed the small bathroom. Because the room faced the road, rather than the shore, it was darker than the front of the house. The fixtures were small and old fashioned, made of white porcelain and chrome. The tub stood upon claw feet on a small raised platform, the faucet and large shower head coming out of the wall along the side. A small cupboard in the corner contained fluffy white towels and various grooming products. "Seamus, how can you fit all of your things in this room?" Dean asked. "Between you and Nin, you have enough hair care products alone to fill that cupboard, never mind all your other stuff."
"You wouldn't believe the reducing charms going on in this bathroom," Seamus replied as he grabbed a tiny bottle from the cupboard. At his touch, the bottle sprung back to full size.
Surprised, Dean asked, "Seamus? Are they teaching you wandless magic here? I didn't even hear you say anything."
Seamus smiled. "Well, when you're with a patient, you need both hands, don't you? And shouting Latin only adds to the stress of the situation." Seamus turned his left hand so the inside of his wrist faced up, and Dean noticed a tiny wand, no more than two inches long and a quarter inch in diameter, affixed to his forearm. "Because it sits on my pulse point," Seamus explained, "I don't need to say the commands out loud. And it's self-attaching, so I don't need to hold onto it. Very convenient. It only works at a very short distance though—good for mediwizard things, not so good for general magic." With a quick flick of his wrist the wand fell into his hand, and he set it on the shelf. "Unless, of course, you are doing something else that requires close physical contact." He reached up to pull Dean's lips closer to his own, and they kissed for long, slow minutes.
When they parted, Dean said, "Water ready?"
Seamus reached a hand into the stream and pronounced it satisfactory, then grabbed a nearby sponge and gestured to Dean. "After you."
Dean lifted his long skinny legs over the edge of the tub and eased the back of his neck and shoulders under the lukewarm spray. His head bowed, and he let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes. He sensed Seamus joining him, then felt a sponge move across his chest. "Mmmm," he breathed, opening his eyes a crack to look at his boyfriend.
Seamus poured a little of the almond-scented liquid soap on the sponge, then began to wash Dean's narrow torso. The lather slid down his slim but muscular arms, the pale soap contrasting with his ebony skin. He quickly cleaned any remaining stickiness from the smooth, lean chest and flat stomach, then reached his hand around Dean to cup a bit of water. As he rinsed, the smaller man leaned forward to nibble at the newly clean, dark nipple. Dean raised his head slightly and smiled down at his lover.
Seamus looked up from his work, taking advantage of Dean's lowered head to give him a little kiss. The sponge moved further down his abdomen, then stopped abruptly just above Dean's cock. "Turn please," Seamus said, sliding sideways to give Dean room to move.
Dean scowled at Seamus' teasing but he did as he was told.
"Christ, but you have a gorgeous back, Dean," Seamus whispered. He rubbed the sponge over Dean's sharp shoulder blades and down to his high, firm buttocks. Bending his knees, he cleaned his long legs and the top of his large narrow feet. The taller man leaned against the wall and lifted his feet one at a time, revealing their pale pink soles.
Seamus stood, reaching into the water to rinse the sponge before reaching for more of the almond soap. He then began to quickly wash his own body, and Dean stepped aside to allow Seamus to rinse himself off in the shower spray.
"Didn't you forget something?" Dean asked, pouting slightly, his hands on his hips.
Seamus, who had closed his eyes as he wet down his hair, looked up innocently and said, "Did I? Oh! I forgot your head, didn't I?" He smiled sweetly, picking up the sponge and reaching up to rub it over Dean's shaven scalp.
Dean scowled as the soapy water dripped down his cheeks. "That isn't what I meant, Seamus," he said through clenched teeth.
"No? I guess you'll have to show me, then. I can't imagine what I missed."
Dean rolled his eyes, then took Seamus' wrist and placed the sponge against his own crotch.
"Oh!" Seamus squeezed some lather out of the sponge before setting it on the side of the tub. "That bit is best washed by hand, don't you think?" he asked, moving a little closer to Dean as he rubbed the soapy water into Dean's cock and the large, low testicles behind it.
Dean reached out to hold Seamus even closer, but the other boy abruptly moved away. "All clean! Rinse yourself off, then!" Seamus climbed out of the tub and wrapped himself in one of the large white towels in the cupboard, grabbing his miniature wand from the shelf. "I'll meet you in the bedroom," he said as he walked out.
Dean stood in the shower, stunned by Seamus' swift departure. They had never taken a shower together without something happening. Bloody tease, he thought as he turned back into the spray.
He wasn't quite over his sulk when he returned to the bedroom. Seamus had thrown his towel over the back of one of the chairs and his small wand lay on the bedside table. He was sitting on the bed, still naked, his outstretched legs crossed and his back leaning against the headboard. Hearing Dean enter the room, he looked up from the book in his hands and grinned. This was not the falsely innocent grin from the shower but that genuine, sunshine-bright smile that never failed to make Dean's heart beat a little faster.
"I read something that reminded me of you," Seamus said.
Dean tossed his towel on the chair and sat down on the bed next to Seamus. He wrapped an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and Seamus nestled into his arms. Dean kissed him on the temple, sulkiness forgotten. "What is this book, then?" he asked.
"Wait, I'll read it to you. I was going to send it in a letter, but I decided I'd rather read it to you, in person. This is about a couple—newlyweds, but they are not young:
". . . I will have my soft music! Unhand me, girl! Let's see what the B.B.C. can do for us."
She released him, and her eyes, in their turn, followed him to the radio cabinet.
"Stand there for a moment, Peter. No--don't turn around."
"Why?" he said, standing obediently. "Has my unfortunate face begun to get on your nerves?"
"No--I was just admiring your spine, that's all. It has a kind of sort of springy line about it that pleases me. Completely enslaving."
"Really? I can't see it. But I must tell my tailor. He always gives me to understand that he invented by back for me."
"Does he also imagine he invented your ears and the back of your skull and the bridge of your nose?"
"No flattery can be too gross for my miserable sex. I am purring like a coffee-mill. But you might have picked a more responsive set of features. It's difficult to express devotion with the back of one's head."
"That's just it. I want the luxury of a hopeless passion. There, I can say to myself, there is the back of his adorable head, and nothing I can say will soften it."
That's what inspired me to top you today. I wanted to stare at the back of your adorable head. And your gorgeous back. Oh, and your beautiful arse, can't forget that."
Dean turned to Seamus, holding his chin in one hand. "Stop talking now."
Seamus could only nod. When Dean said to stop talking, good things followed. Good things that reminded Seamus there were other things his tongue could do besides talk as fast as humanly possible. Good things like the soft, wet kiss he was currently sharing with Dean. Seamus tossed the book onto the bedside table and threw his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him closer, pressing his entire body against Dean's. Dean put one strong arm around Seamus's waist and pulled them both down onto the bed, rolling them so that he was on top.
Finally, his lips left Seamus's and began to move down along the line of his jaw, firm and stubbly-sharp, to his ears, so small that Dean always thought Seamus looked not quite human, then down his neck. Dean buried his nose in Seamus's newly longish hair and inhaled deeply, smelling almond soap and Seamus' own sweet scent beneath it. He stayed there for a moment, his lips and tongue nuzzling at the corner where neck met shoulder, marveling at how the skin had turned from pale honey to golden brown but was still just as soft, tasted just the same. He felt Seamus shift under him slightly, then the other man's hands were rubbing his shoulders, gliding along his shoulder blades and then down his back, slowly, softly, reacquainting themselves with the contours of Dean's body before resting at the small of his back, just above the curve of his buttocks. Dean purred contentedly and lifted his head to look at Seamus.
"Slow this time?" Dean asked.
"Slow like honey," Seamus replied. They kissed again, then Dean slid down Seamus's body, kissing and stroking collar bones and upper arms and chest all covered in that beautifully soft hair that had bleached in the sun like the hair on his head, so that now it barely showed against the browner skin. He nuzzled into Seamus's underarms, and stroked and sucked at his almost flat, dark brown nipples, until they were hard and jutting from his chest.
Seamus, miraculously, laid so quiet and still during this treatment that Dean looked up at him to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep. Seamus looked down at Dean with a dreamy smile, then lifted his hand to rub it over Dean's shaven head. Dean ran his tongue along the center of Seamus's chest, down to his stomach. Seamus never could achieve a completely flat stomach, something he hated but Dean loved—this little center of softness on an otherwise muscular body. Dean lay his head sideways, pillowing it on Seamus's tummy, enjoying Seamus's hand on his head, vaguely aware of the semi-hard penis below his chin.
Napping could wait. Dean rolled up and bestowed a kiss on the navel, then continued his slide down Seamus's body, skipping his penis in favor of the hollow between thigh and hip. He ran his hands along the golden-brown legs, as covered with sun-bleached hair as the rest of his body. The warm sunlight made Dean languid, and even as he slid back up to nuzzle the hardening penis where it lay atop a thatch of light brown curls, he was in no hurry. He dipped his nose under Seamus's cock, softly sucking one of his balls into his mouth, and was rewarded with a low moan and another rub of the head. He made sure to give equal tender loving care to its mate, before lifting his head and going to work on Seamus's penis.
Seamus gasped as he felt his cock sliding into Dean's mouth. He raised himself up on his elbows so he could watch Dean lovingly sucking him off, and he honestly could not think of a sexier thing to look upon. As per their agreement, Seamus had seen several other men in this position since he had arrived in Greece. But what he had forgotten was how amazingly sexy it was to see this man laying between his legs, this man reaching up to hold one of his hands. The hands that wrote those letters, created that art, also drove Seamus to distraction. He had always scoffed at that old saying that the brain is the real erogenous zone, but here and now he finally understood what they had been talking about.
Dean slid Seamus's penis from his mouth and moved back up for a snog. "Slow enough for ya?"
"Mmmmm. Don't stop, though."
"Payback time?" He raised up, kneeling between Seamus's knees.
Seamus nodded. He spread his legs further, placing Dean's fingers at his entrance. "Look at me now."
As Dean gazed into Seamus's green-blue eyes, he felt a sudden wetness at his fingers. "You did it again!" Dean chuckled.
Seamus held up his left hand to show the tiny wand affixed there, then, with a flick of his wrist, the wand was in his hand, and he set it back on the bedside table. "Don't—need—that—anymore—do we—love?" Seamus said, his voice hitching as Dean worked his fingers inside him.
Dean smiled. "Ready?"
"So ready for you," Seamus nodded. He grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under his hips, then rolled backwards slightly, tipping his lower body up.
"You were so quiet last time. That's not like you." Dean pouted slightly. "Where is my Seamus, who wrote me all those scandalous letters?"
Seamus grinned. "Take that big hard cock of yours, then, and fuck my sweet arse."
"That's more like it," Dean said, complying.
The smaller man lifted his legs up, and Dean grabbed them in his arms and pulled them so that the ankles were crossed behind his neck, then moved his hands back down to Seamus's hips, lifting them up for purchase and then thrusting, long and slow and hard, into Seamus's arse. "Don't. Ever. Stop. Fucking. Me." Seamus panted.
Dean stopped. "Seamus, can't you go for more than three hours without quoting some fucking movie?"
Seamus looked up at Dean through narrowed eyes. "No, and that's why you love me. Now, MOVE YOUR BLOOMIN' ARSE!"
Dean chuckled, and began thrusting faster and faster into Seamus, calling out his name. Seamus was moaning and muttering beneath him: "Oh, Dean, love you, need that cock, need it in me, don't stop baby, don't you stop, fuck me hard, so good, so fucking good, Dean, please, jerk me off, yes, that's right, harder, faster, come on Dean, make me come, so good with you, always so good with you—" and then Seamus stopped talking as his stomach and chest were splattered with semen.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up to see Dean, still fucking him. "Come on, baby, do what you need to do, use me, use me up, just use me to get off." Dean grabbed Seamus's hips again and pulled him forward, hard and fast, then pulled almost all the way out before burying himself to the hilt. He shuddered as orgasm overtook him, and he collapsed onto Seamus.
Seamus lifted up slightly to remove the pillow under his hips, and stretched his legs before laying them back down on the bed. Dean rolled to the side, pulling the smaller boy into his arms and kissing him on the forehead. "Love you," Dean whispered.
"I know," Seamus answered.