Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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6th June 2011 08:59 - FIC: One Snog and a Grope
Title: One Snog and a Grope
Author: [info]iamisaac
Theme(s): alternate pairings: Charlie Weasley/Seamus Finnigan, exhibitionism, brief mirror references
Warnings: no others, really.
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~2800
Synopsis: Seamus has always liked performing: first humour, then sex. Kink clubs are an obvious place for him to ‘perform’ – but he’s cursed by a frustrating obsession with red-heads…
A/N: eep, evilly not beta’d – sorry!



Thing was, Seamus had always liked performing. His Mam generally called it “showing off”, but Seamus reckoned “performing” was a better word. Making people laugh, to start with; and not just because if they were laughing with him, they weren't laughing at him. Just because – well, life was better with a laugh, wasn't it? And then Seamus found something else that made life better. Made life much, much better.

Sex.

Oh hell yeah.

Wanking was – well, y'know, everyone wanked. It was one of those things. And yeah, it was good and that – if you hit the right spot, it was better than good. But not better than making people laugh. Not then.

Mirrors... Perhaps it all went back to there. Seamus had practised jokes in front of the mirror for years (there was a great 'un at home which laughed raucously at his mucking around), but it was only quite a lot later that Seamus had discovered wanking in front of a mirror. Course, you had to choose one that wasn't magic – laughing mirrors might be great when you were doing a comedian act, but you didn't want to have a mirror pissing itself giggling at the size of your dick, thanks. Still, get the right sort of mirror – a big, floor to ceiling jobbie was amazing (and Seamus found it difficult to think of any other reason but that for why they'd put them in the prefects' bathroom... not that he was supposed to be in there, exactly, but finders keepers, yeah?). Anyway, get that sort of mirror, get your angles sorted out and there you were – you and this other guy, pumping away together. Kind of companionable. Sometimes the bloke in the mirror pulled weird sorts of faces. Seamus learnt to know when they would happen and stop himself: imagine being in the middle of getting your end away and having a girl look at you making that face. It'd be worse than a laughing mirror.

Seamus still thought at that stage, you see, that it'd be a girl. Course it would. That was how stuff worked. You met a girl, settled down, she popped out a few sprogs and before you knew it they would be running riot at Hogwarts, just as he was doing now. The fact that he hadn't found one he fancied yet was fine. His Mam, after all, had been way out of school by the time she met his Da. Had to have been, since he was a Muggle. You didn't meet them at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was plenty of time.

And especially when things got nasty. Not fancying girls was the least of his worries when he was dealing with all the crap surrounding The Dark Lord, and that. Well, it wasn't “not” fancying girls, obviously, it was just not having yet found the girl that Seamus would fancy.

Only then there came Charlie Weasley into his life.

Seamus didn't go for red-heads, male OR female. He'd noticed that Ron's little sister was collecting an entourage (and also noticed she had eyes for no one but Harry, which figured), but Ginny had never done it for him. And Ron – hell, no! Seamus'd rather have gone with a troll than Ron, no offence meant. Ron was great and all, but really not sexy. Really. So obviously, his brothers – and Seamus'd met Fred, George and Percy – were not likely to be erection material, to put it bluntly. But then, there came Charlie. (As in 'appeared'. Seamus'd've liked to make him 'come', but that wasn't what was going on.) Granted, when you were in the middle of a big battle that Seamus hadn't believed happened anywhere but in books, fancying your mate's older brother took a back seat. Or it should’ve done. Trouble was, that was where it all started…

Seamus ducked round a corner, his wand quickly raised as he hit another body - a broad masculine figure whose wand was equally ready. Looking unexpectedly into the eyes of Charlie Weasley, they both laughed.

"Merlin," said Charlie, "thought I might have run into trouble. Instead I run into a hot guy. Not complaining."

Seamus told himself that the heat flooding through him was adrenaline from the fight, not an urge to jump Ron’s older brother. Then a menacing figure appeared in his sightline, and his words were nothing to do with sex. "Behind you."

Charlie swung round, cast a quick-fire spell and was back facing Seamus before Seamus had finished the words.

"A hot Irish guy with quick reactions," Charlie added.

"Not so bad yourself."

"And that sounds like an invitation." Charlie slid an arm around Seamus, his hand resting firmly on Seamus's arse; and hell, Seamus wasn't complaining. Seemed he must've said it aloud because Charlie, grinning, said "But would you complain if I did this?"

Seamus found himself swung into a full-on-oh-fuck-how-hard-could-he-get-in-two-seconds-flat snog. For a few moments, Seamus was aware of nothing but Charlie's body (fit), Charlie's mouth (hot), Charlie's cock (hard). Then, suddenly, they were back in the moment and Charlie was swearing and moving away.

"Shit. More Death-Eaters. Save it for later, Irish-guy. Don't you go dying on me. We've got unfinished business."

"I'll do me best," Seamus threw back, and they parted.

But later never came. Not in the sense Charlie had meant it. Seamus'd known that battle was bloody, that people died, for fuck's sake, but he'd never seen the proof - not sprawling around Hogwarts in the undignified attitudes of sudden death. Not when everywhere you looked, you saw someone you knew - someone you liked - who you'd never know again.

Not when Ron's brother, Fred - Charlie's brother, Fred; heck, George Weasley's other half, Fred - was one of those who'd never speak again. The Weasleys, en masse, left together; Seamus said nothing more to them than a few stumbling words to Ron.



It didn't take all that long for Seamus to discover the kink clubs in Knockturn Alley. For a start, the idea that he "wasn't supposed" to go down there was enough to tempt him that way. And then, well, his latent exhibitionism drove him onwards and upwards. Not to mention 'outwards'. It wasn't at all long before Seamus was out and proud (much to the horror of his Mam, who thought it was "all very well for Dumbledore" but not something she wanted to see in her son). He was slightly annoyed to find himself with a fetish for red-heads; apparently, however much he told himself it had just been the whole “fuck we’re gonna die” thing that made him fancy Charlie, the guy still lingered in his subconscious. Not to mention that although Seamus wasn't generally worried whether he was top or bottom, so long as he was getting some, he still found it kind of wrong when he was butt-fucking a ginger. Because whatever else he knew, he was certain of one thing. Charlie would've topped.

Not that this was about Charlie. Merlin's sake, one snog and a bit of a grope. Charlie happened to have red hair, and happened to have made Seamus realise that there were sexy red-heads out there. That was all. Until…

"Hey." The guy (red hair) who stopped Seamus in the club looked vaguely familiar. "I hear you've got a thing for red-heads."

"Oh yeah?" Seamus had heard this too many times before. About 50% of his recent fucks had started with this type of comment. Seemed he was getting a reputation.

"Yes. And that's funny, because I happen to know a red-head who's got a bit of an obsession with Irish guys."

Seamus suddenly realised who he was speaking to. Ron's eldest brother. Ron's married brother.

"Er... uh... you're married," he blurted out.

Bill (Seamus had remembered his name) rolled his eyes. "Not me, you prat. No offence, but you're not my type. Not to mention that Fleur'd hex my balls off if I cheated on her." Bill stepped aside, and Seamus saw a familiar figure.

"Hey, hot Irish-guy," Charlie drawled. "Long time no see."

"Yeah." Seamus suddenly found it hard to say anything at all. The room had got at least twenty degrees hotter, and all available intelligence appeared to have drained down into his cock, which was waving happily at Charlie.

"I hear you're not bad at putting on a show," Charlie said. "Fancy putting on a show with me?"

Seamus's second "yeah" was immediate, and not just from his dick.

"I should warn you," Charlie said coolly, "that I'm used to getting my own way, and I'm used to getting my own way with dragons. I'm not great at 'gentle'."

"Suits me." (Where had Seamus's Irish "gift of the gab" gone? He seemed unable to get out more than two words at a time. What was the point of practising all that stuff in front of the mirror if the moment things got good, he lost the plot?)

"I'll leave you to it, shall I?" Bill's voice was in the background.

"See ya later." Charlie had only a passing word for his brother; Seamus none at all.

In fact, Seamus didn't have much voice for anything. Apart from the thought of putting on a show with a definitely-not-gentle Charlie. Seamus hoped he hadn't started moaning already, just at the thought, but he wasn't at all certain.

"Uh..." he managed.

Charlie grinned. "Never mind the talking, let's get on to the action," he suggested.

"Oh please." Seamus had a feeling he should've had more pride, or whatever, but he didn't really give a flying fuck (in fact, he was hoping that this fuck was going to be as good as flying any day).
Charlie was up close and personal almost before Seamus had finished speaking, and Seamus wasn't complaining. Turned out that he hadn't been over-estimating Charlie all these years - the reality was one hell of a lot better even than his imaginings. For a start, yeah, he was... hung. Seamus didn't even need to get the guy naked before he was aware of the size of his tackle. Also, though - frankly, Seamus didn't give a toss whether the rumours were true and Charlie was used to fucking dragons; he was bloody, fucking, amazingly hot. And hell, he didn't just have the equipment, he knew what to do with it.

When Charlie had suggested a show, Seamus had expected the middle of the club. But Charlie had smiled when Seamus suggested it.

"No need. Let them come to us." His smile had turned to a smug grin. "Or come with us."

He snogged Seamus to within an inch of his life; and Seamus would've said 'okay' to anything. In fact, he wasn't at all sure he wanted to share Charlie with the rest of this salacious crowd, damn it. Though on the other hand, if he got to have Charlie (or have Charlie have him), Seamus wasn't going to be complaining.

Charlie had been telling the truth about the 'not gentle', Seamus thought, a few frantic moments later. Not that Seamus was particularly clothes-obsessed, but after Charlie had ripped Seamus's shirt off with his teeth, it was going to take a hell of a lot of mending. Charlie hadn't forgotten what to do with his hands, either; he hadn't yet touched Seamus's cock, but that was kinda fortunate because Seamus was this close to coming as it was, and he wasn't sure he'd manage to control himself if that happened. Never a passive lover, it was Seamus's time to make a move, and he grabbed a handful of Charlie's hair, tilting his lover's head backwards so that he could kiss him long and hard.

And yeah - not that Seamus was exactly surprised, but it was totally as good as he remembered. With the added bonus, of course, that the guys around them were cheering them on, not trying to kill them...

Charlie pushed Seamus up against the wall. Seamus's naked back was hot and sweaty against the cold paintwork; he was vaguely aware not of the music but of the thumping drum beat it held, which echoed through his body as if it were the sound of his own blood pumping. And Charlie started thrusting his hips so that his cock was rubbing against Seamus's with every forward movement, and m-a-a-n, Seamus was glad he hadn't known what he was missing this last year because they hadn't even got to fucking yet and it was still the best sex he'd had since... well, ever, really.

Charlie was sweaty as hell; his hair was dark auburn and damp, sticking to his forehead and up at every crazy angle you could think of. Charlie's hands were rough and smooth in turn, callused fingers leading to unexpectedly soft palms; and fuck, did he know how to use the different sensations.

"Hold tight," said Charlie, moving away far enough to tug Seamus's trousers down whilst still holding him against the wall; flicking undone his own flies so his cock sprung out thick and hard from his body, pointing at Seamus with an intent that Seamus could only think was hopeful. "Lubrico." He used the useful lubrication spell well-known to all wizards from their teens, then leaned in closer to Seamus. "It's been a while, Irish-guy, and I've never been good at gentle. Sure you're okay with that?"

In reply, Seamus pushed his hips up with definite invitation, his fingers digging into Charlie's shoulders. "Never been more okay, red-head," he retorted.

Charlie grinned, and hoisted Seamus up against the wall. Seamus wrapped his legs around Charlie’s waist, and Charlie brought one hand round to push a lubricated finger into the ring of muscle of Seamus's anus, which gave only a modicum more opposition than Seamus had given Charlie. For a moment, Seamus wished he hadn't had quite so much no-strings-sex lately; but then Charlie replaced fingers with cock and Seamus wasn't thinking about the past, nor even about the enthusiastic crowd surrounding them, but only about Charlie, and what Charlie was doing to him. Charlie's teeth bit hard into the soft flesh of Seamus's neck as he pushed with one firm unyielding motion further into Seamus's arse. Seamus groaned at the feeling, which felt like much too much and not enough at the very same moment; the pain where Charlie was biting him somehow seemed to make each sensation five times stronger; and then Charlie guided one of Seamus's hands down to his own cock, and together they wanked Seamus as Charlie thrust his own dick in and out of Seamus's arse so hard that Seamus was waiting for the moment when he was pushed right through the club wall by the force of the fucking.

It didn't last long. Seamus couldn't last long, not with Charlie's fingers entwined with his over his cock, not with Charlie's cock filling him up; not with Charlie's mouth here, there, everywhere on his face and neck. Seamus came with a yell, loud enough to be heard even above the music, even above everything; and Charlie looked up, his blue eyes looking straight at Seamus, almost straight through him, as he orgasmed. Then, as if he had only been waiting for Seamus to reach completion, Charlie was coming, hard and strong, his expression almost feral.

Seamus wasn't sure what happened after that; it was a huge rush of colour and sensation and confusion; and suddenly he realised he was in a flat which wasn't his own (much tidier, for a start), lying sprawled across Charlie Weasley's half-naked body, and feeling fucking top of the world.

Charlie stretched lazily beneath him. "Thought it was time I brought you home," he explained. “Sorted a port-key before I met you.”

"Quick worker, aren't you?"

"Hot Irish-guy, I've been waiting more than a year to do this," Charlie drawled. "You've got to forgive me if I want you to myself. I've been hearing the stories, you know."

Seamus blushed. "Exaggeration."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie's voice was gently skeptical.

"Erm, no," Seamus admitted.

"I'm very possessive," Charlie warned.

"Yeah."

"And demanding, and difficult to live with, and a workaholic -"

"Yeah?"

"Keen on my own way -"

"Who isn't?"

"And no good at gentle -"

"I noticed," Seamus grinned.

"Still interested?"

"Still here, aren't I?" Seamus's grin grew as he remembered his earliest experiments. "Beats wanking in front of a mirror," he said casually.

Charlie laughed, and Seamus knew that they'd got an agreement; that from now on, Seamus wasn't going to be fucking random red-heads in clubs or elsewhere. That he didn’t even want to. That Charlie had been waiting a long time for Seamus, and wasn't going to give up on him now. Perhaps it hadn't been phrased in the usual terms, but they knew. They both knew.

"That's good enough for me," said Charlie, and kissed him.
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