Title: Confess
Author: _melodic_
Characters/Pairings: Seamus, Harry, mention of Harry/Ginny and Harry/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Adultery. Erotic Confessions.
Other Warnings/Content: Infidelity. Wanking. Coming in Pants. Semi-Public Sex. Morally Ambiguous Seamus.
Word Count: ~1,790
Summary/Description: Harry, overcome with guilt, confesses his infidelity to his good mate. Seamus is only too eager to listen.
Author's Notes: I had a lot of fun with the themes this month! Thank you to gracerene for the beta!




Harry looks flustered when he walks into the pub; his wild hair is messier than ever and his eyes frantically search the crowd. His pinched expression relaxes slightly when he spots Seamus in a corner booth.

“Alright, Harry?”

“Hey Seamus.” Harry slides into the booth, casting a few furtive glances around before releasing a weighty exhale. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“Of course.” Seamus smiles while sliding a beer over to Harry. “I ordered you a pint.”

“Thanks.” Harry grips the glass tightly and swallows half the drink in one go.

Harry chews nervously on his lower lip, his eyes trained on the table. Seamus’s gaze is drawn to the reddened flesh becoming plumper under his sharp teeth. Harry’s a great looking bloke—Seamus has always thought so—but something about his obvious distress truly suits him. Of course Seamus doesn’t want Harry to be miserable—Harry is his mate and he wants the best for him. But, Harry’s clenched jaw and flushed cheeks are undeniably enticing and Seamus’s heart flutters at the sight.

“So, is everything okay?” Seamus leans forward, brow furrowing in concern. He really shouldn’t be focussing on how attractive Harry’s distressed expression is. “You seemed a bit anxious in your note.”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs deeply. “I just—I needed to talk to someone. I have to get some things off my chest.”

“Well, I’m happy to listen, mate,” Seamus responds good naturedly. “Although I am surprised you wanted to chat with me and not Ron.”

To be honest, Seamus can’t recall the last time Harry and himself meet up one on one. Usually they get together in a group setting; sometimes meeting at the local pub or having a few drinks at a holiday party. They’ve always had great conversation, passing jokes back and forth and chatting about Quidditch, but Seamus wouldn’t consider them extremely close.

“No.” Harry shakes his head, voice tinged with desperation. “I can’t talk to Ron about this.”

“Okay.” Seamus sips slowly from his lager. “What’s going on?”

“Well…” Harry trails off, chewing his lip nervously as his eyes dart around their surroundings. He hastily casts a privacy charm and leans forward. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course,” Seamus agrees, curiosity piqued. He’s always been good at keeping secrets and as a result people often confide in him. Seamus has come to truly enjoy hearing their confessions, thrilled by the secrets they spill for his ears alone. “Tell me.”

“I’ve—I’ve been having these urges lately.”

“Urges?” Seamus asks, interest rising by the second. He thought Harry might have wanted to rant about work or maybe confess to forgetting Ginny and his anniversary. This is different. This is intriguing.

“Yes.” Harry flushes and stares at the sticky table between them. “I’ve been having these fantasies about… about men.”

“Oh.” Arousal begins to curl deep in Seamus’s stomach. This isn’t quite what he expected, certainly not from Harry of all people. The magnitude of what Harry is sharing spreads through him like the pleasant heat from a flickering fire.

“At first they were just dreams, nothing more.” Harry picks up his beer mat and starts to fold the corner. “I would wake up at night, sweaty and out of breath, with the faint memories of a firm male body pressed against mine. I didn’t think much of it or what it might mean. It was just a dream!”

“Go on,” Seamus urges, his breath becoming shallow. He knows this is serious, that Harry is terribly conflicted and haunted by these fantasies, and yet he needs to hear more. He imagines what Harry looked like when he woke; flushed and panting, hard prick throbbing against his sweat dampened pants. It’s utterly compelling.

“The dreams wouldn’t stop.” Harry begins to shred his beer mat, eyes still trained on the table. “I was having them every night. Sometimes Ginny would wake up next to me when I stirred. She saw how I was, er...affected and would start touching me. I thought I could just close my eyes and get off with her, but as soon as her gentle hands were on me I began to lose interest.” Harry’s flush deepens. “I'd get soft and have to make some excuse about being tired.”

“I see.” Seamus’s own cheeks heat up, his heart pounding against his chest. Harry’s voice is laced with remorse and that turns Seamus on even more. He loves how wrong it is, how difficult it must be for Harry to form the words that spill from his pretty lips. A better friend might feel deep sympathy, pat Harry on his shoulder and assure him everything will be okay. Seamus can lend a friendly ear, can easily keep a secret, but he can’t pretend he’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He has to hear the rest, has to know exactly what forbidden acts Harry took part of. Sex is great, of course, and Seamus has no problem pulling blokes and birds alike, but this is so much better. There’s nothing more arousing than hearing somebody else share their hidden fantasies, admit to their deepest desires. Seamus’s breath quickens, excitement thrumming through his body. He can’t recall the last time he heard a secret this juicy.

“Well.” Harry looks up, his bright green eyes full of anguish. “I did my best to ignore it, but eventually something snapped. I told Ginny that I had a late meeting at the Ministry last week, and to not wait up for me.”

“Where did you go?” Seamus’s cock twitches in his jeans, eager to hear where this story will lead.

“I went to Muggle London. I found a club…” Harry lowers his voice. “A gay club.”

“Yes?” Seamus bites the inside of his cheek, fighting back the lust coursing through his veins.

“I was terrified at first,” Harry admits, returning his attention to his shredded beer mat. “I stayed at the bar and sipped on a stupidly expensive cocktail but then…”

“Tell me.” Seamus’s cock aches, straining against the stiff denim of his jeans.

“This man approached me. He was bloody gorgeous—Tall with stylish blond hair and pale creamy skin. He had these striking eyes, such a light blue they were almost grey.” Harry clears his throat and smiles sadly. “He stared at me so intensely, with such passion—well, he sort of reminded me of someone I know.”

“What did you do?” Seamus asks gruffly, blood pounding in his ears. His breath is shallow, stuck in his throat as he watches Harry carefully. Seamus delights in the fact that Harry chose him, that Seamus alone gets to listen to Harry’s mumbled dirty secrets. He wants to hear more, he wants to hear everything.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Harry takes another long gulp of his beer. “I was frozen, really. But then the man gave me a knowing look, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me into the loo.”

“And then?” Seamus gives in to his need and slips his hand over his erection, the table hiding his movement.

“He started kissing me, all wet tongue and sharp teeth. I'd never felt anything like that before.” Harry’s voice cracks and he takes a steadying breath before continuing. “Honestly, it was incredible. My skin felt like it was on fire, my chest ready to burst. His hands were all over my body, rough and hot and eager.”

“Yeah?” Seamus chokes out, his hand rubbing fiercely against his jeans-covered cock. He can picture it so clearly, can vividly imagine exactly how Harry and this mystery man looked rubbing against one another. Seamus can feel the muggy heat of the club, smell the arousal curling in the air, taste the desperation. It's not that he wants to be either man—a frantic hookup in an empty loo doesn’t really do it for Seamus—but to observe... What he wouldn't give to stand in the shadows, to watch with hooded eyes as the two men devoured each other.

“We didn’t even take our clothes off, we just grinded against each other like anxious, inexperienced schoolchildren. I was lost in a blur of sensation and want and I spun completely out of control.”

Merlin, Harry’s confession is driving Seamus wild. He looks so miserable and conflicted, frowning into his beer across the table, but all Seamus can think of is what Harry must have looked like that night. How he would have been disheveled and flushed, pressed against the wall with an equally gorgeous man rutting against him. Harry’s guilt-ridden words sink into Seamus’s skin, lighting him on fire, igniting sparks of desire throughout his body.

“And then…” Harry trails off, as if needing a moment to steel his nerves to continue. “Then it was over as quickly as it began. I was panting into his mouth, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I came right there in my pants.”

“Fuck,” Seamus mutters under his breath, his own cock pulsing beneath his hand. His orgasm sends tremors through his body but he fights off the worst of the shivers, ignoring the wetness that spreads in his jeans.

“I know,” Harry sighs sadly, oblivious to Seamus’s situation. “I felt terrible. I mumbled some excuse and all but ran out of the loo. I didn’t stop until I was several blocks away from the club, my skin crawling with guilt and remorse. When I finally made it home, I stayed in the shower for ages, scrubbing at my skin with steaming hot water.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” Seamus finally replies, his mind hazy in a post-orgasmic state. The proper words seem unable to form on his lips. All Seamus can think about is whether or not Harry will cheat again, will his guilt drive him wild to the point where he needs to confide in Seamus once more? “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Harry looks up with shining sincere eyes. “I know this is something I have to figure out on my own, but for now, I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“I understand.” Seamus roughly clears his throat, shifting his legs as the sticky mess cools in his jeans.

“Thanks, mate.” Harry finishes the last of his beer and stands up, clapping Seamus on his shoulder. “I appreciate you listening and, you know, not judging. I better get home though.”

“Of course,” Seamus replies as Harry releases his shoulder and turns away. “Oh, and Harry?” Harry stops mid stride to look over his shoulder. “I’m here anytime you want to talk in the future. In case there’s ever anything else you want…” Seamus lowers his voice, the words coming out dark and gravelly. “...to confess.”