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It's Complicated	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and am not making any money off of it. The boys are all just so sexy I can't help playing with them a bit. I'll put them back when I'm done. In tact. ...probably.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-13
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2

New
Year's Eve, the Leaky Cauldron

“This
is fucking boring,” Charlie declared after his fourth whiskey.
“I wouldn'ta come out if I knew this is what my New Years was
gonna be like,” he slurred a bit. He wasn't drunk, but four
whiskeys in a row had a pleasant blur at the edges of his vision. “At
least Bill knows how to have fun.” He glanced out at the dance
floor where he and Viktor were dancing. They both looked ridiculous.
Viktor didn't seem to be much of a dancer, but he certainly seemed to
enjoy faking it. They were pornographically close, and most of the
time when Charlie glanced their way there was sneaky groping or
stolen kisses. Charlie was happy for Bill – he was awfully cute
when he was all madly in love - but he was also kind of jealous. Bill
was getting arse every weekend, and Charlie had hit an unfortunate
dry spell. It didn't have anything to do with lack of offers, but
Bill was polluting his mind! Watching him get all sweet on Krum and
fuss about what he was going to wear and fix his hair in the mirror
seven times in a row even though it was perfect (as always) the
first, and then seeing the big, goofy grin on his face that was stuck
in place for an hour every time Viktor firecalled made Charlie wish
Mr. Right would hurry up and show his damn face already!

It
wasn't like he blamed Bill and Viktor for being all over each other
and not paying him any mind. He'd thought being a third wheel would
work for him – he'd find someone cute, flirt, dance...finish
the night off naked in the nearest hotel. It was just that wasn't how
things had worked out. He'd danced with a few guys – a dance
here, two there, but he just didn't feel very committed to the entire
experience. He kept glancing over at Bill and his goofy grin, and
Viktor and his awkward smile, and he just thought 'Merlin, I want
that.' He hadn't realized how much he wanted it until he saw how good
it could be. He hadn't realized all the fun he thought he was having
was just a way to temporarily fill a void he didn't even notice
existed until Bill (Damn Bill for always being right!) started
crashing on his couch.

Charlie
made an irritated noise and decided to see if he could find a seat by
the bar. If he had to turn to look at the dance floor, maybe he
wouldn't bother and he could stop sulking. It really wasn't like him.
Jealous and moody were more things he'd attribute to...well, to be
honest they weren't very Weasley-ish traits at all, and Charlie
always considered himself intrinsically Weasley-ish (good-hearted,
charming, you know, the whole list – and yet, modest enough not
to rattle off his best traits out loud). 'Wohoo! Seat!' His
mental tirade cut off abruptly. He leaned over the stool to the young
man nursing a frosted ale beside it. “This taken?” he
asked.

“Fecking
bastard,” came the reply as the man lifted his gaze from the
counter-top and glared at the clock on the wall. 11:15 pm.

'Helloo
accent,' Charlie thought, interest instantly piquing. He'd
always been a sucker for an accent. “...so, is that a yes, or a
no?” he asked tentatively, trying to give off his best 'I'm
handsome and charming and you'd love to shag me' waves without
seeming overbearing – it was a fine art, really.

“Yeah,
I guess,” the young man said. Around Ron's age, now that
Charlie got a good look at him, which was younger than he would
normally go for, but still perfectly legal. The young man had
wonderfully slate colored eyes, sandy hair, and was blatantly Irish.
Adorable, really, and Charlie had a weakness for accents.

The
sulky expression made Charlie forget his earlier decision to swear
off one night stands because those pouty lips looked delicious.
“...fecking arsehole's not coming, anyway,” the Irishman
muttered.

Charlie
saw his chance in that last statement, and felt like a heel for
instinctively jumping at it. “Boyfriend?” he asked.

Seamus
glowered and downed a huge swig of his drink so fast he choked on it.
Charlie slapped his back a few times until the sputtering cough
calmed itself. He didn't immediately move his hand.

“ ...'e's
a bastard,” Seamus slurred a bit. “Always skips out on
me.” He gave Charlie a bitter grin, tilting his head to the
side a bit. “Third year running,” he declared as if he
were proud of it. “New Years', tha' is. Stood me up three years
in a row now.”

'I'm
a horrible person,' Charlie thought. He had to be, right? Because
here the poor guy obviously had a piece of shit lover, and all he
could think was that while it was bad for the slightly tipsy
Irishman, it turned out pretty damn good for him.

“Sounds
like time to toss him to the curb if you ask me. Only reason I can
see to hang onto a guy who can't put you first is...” He
quirked a brow and smirked rather than finishing that sentence.

Seamus
let a bark of laughter go. “Balls, no! To be honest, he's right
poor at that. Pencil-pricked idiot, but somehow I can't bring
m'self to hold it against 'im.” Seamus sighed heavily. “Wa'nt
always this way. Oh, who'm I kidding,” he slumped. “Yes
it was. Closet case that 'e is. But ya know, when we were in school,
it was exciting – sneakin' 'bout after curfew, lookin' for any
secret corner we could find ta snog n' grope n' shag. An' havin' a
secret like that, that ya can't tell anyone, not even your mam, as a
kid, that's an exciting thing, ya know?”

Charlie
rubbed a hand consolingly down his spine. The gesture pulled a long
drag of a sigh out of Seamus. “You thought he'd eventually get
over it and come out, huh? But he never did. Chickens out every time,
doesn't he?”

“We
went out a few times,” Seamus defended adamantly. “Just,
you know, places where no one would know who we were.” His lips
took on that very kissable, sulky pout again. “I'm na' a kid
anymore though.” He took another long swig of his drink, and
frowned to find it empty.

Charlie
gestured to the bartender to bring over two more of whatever Seamus
had been drinking.

“Thanks,”
Seamus said. The big hand running up and down his spine gently felt
damned nice. His
hands were much smaller, with slender
fingers. “It ain't all bad. When it's good, it's real
good,
ya know? Izz jus'...'t ain't been good in a long while 'sall. We
din't see each other much once 'e graduated – older n' me,”
he clarified. “...got a weakness for that, the older men
thing.”

Charlie
cursed himself for feeling a swell of luck at that. Horrible. A
horrible, horrible person who wanted to take advantage of a sexy
young man who was obviously hurting and desperately needed to pull
his head out of his arse and dump this loser he was dating. Well, if
he could get the guy to say he was definitely going to dump his prat
of a boyfriend, then that was like a good deed, right? And so it kind
of balanced out the bad deed he felt building in his abdomen
listening to the drunken Irishman's slightly slurred speech and
watching his adam's apple bob as he took down a long chug of the
drink that had just been laid before him.

Seamus
slammed it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Not
to sound all righteous, but a guy who won't even spend New Years with
you sounds like an arse. I bet you could do way better.”

Seamus
chuckled. “Flirt,” he replied. “If I didn't already
have someone, I could totally go fer you.” He was getting a bit
past tipsy now as he reached up and ran his fingers clumsily through
Charlie's hair. “Jus' love redheads.” He shook it off
though and turned back toward his drink. “ 'e's a decent guy
though, really. He's just got all these...issues. I thought
about dumpin' his arse, ya know, few times. First time though, he
showed up on my doorstep one night lookin' like he was gonna bawl his
eyes out. Had some kinda fallin' out with his family. Hadn't seen him
in months. Kept claimin' it was work and I was sure he was cheatin'
on me with 'is boss, but then he shows up lookin' all like he just
needs the biggest damn hug in the world and I changed me mind. Then,
I thought about it again, but I was talkin' with this friend o'mine
who tells me his brother's havin' a right hard time. Lost someone
real dear after the war n'such...so I thought I'd better give him
some time. Been playin' the brother excuse for two years now though.
Dun' wanna make things harder on 'im but...”

“You
need someone, too,” Charlie said understandingly. It sounded
like this guy just gave and gave and gave and never seemed to get
anything back. “Someone who might show up on your doorstep in
tears sometimes, but who's got a doorstep for you to show up on too,
if you need it. That's what it's supposed to be like, isn't it?”

Having
it said out loud was just too much. He would never comfort
Seamus this way. He would never listen to Seamus drunkely slur
out every issue he had. His eyes felt itchy and started to water. He
collapsed into the burly redhead's shoulder before anyone could see
him cry. “If he likes 'is damn brother so much, 'e should just
shag 'im and stop leading me on,” he mumbled. 'God! This
guy's built like a dragon. All muscle.' He sighed. 'Feels
nice.' He felt uncommonly safe with those big, strong arms hold
him, the face dipped down over his head to make the embrace look more
intimate than despairing, one of those big, strong hands resting
gently on the back of his head. He knew how idiotic this was –
spilling a stupidly cliché life story out to a perfect
stranger sitting at a bar, but it was nice to have someone comfort
him for a change. Maybe he was right. Maybe he should dump the
loser. For real this time. It wouldn't be so bad, being single,
right? It'd been a long damn while since his so-called boyfriend had
been able to bring him off. He always wanked when they shagged –
pretended he liked it best that way, but it was just because someone
was damn well going to get him off, and if it wasn't going to be his
lover, then it was going to have to be him. 'Well, that's what you
get for falling for a guy with a small prick, Seamus. He probably
makes a damn good bottom – Merlin knows half the time he goes
about like something crawled up his arse and died there – too
bad you like bottoming too much to top him, huh?'

Seamus
knew what he needed out of a relationship. He also knew his
boyfriend, even when things had been good, was none of those things.
Even if they didn't have all these issues, even if he felt like he
was loved, eventually there would just be other issues because they
couldn't be what one another needed. He liked to think he was
flexible, but he'd long since given up on that delusion – he
liked to bottom. Period. Sentence over. No commas necessary. He liked
to take it up the arse. Giving was good, but receiving was infinitely
better. Seamus Finnigan was, extreme circumstances aside, a bottom.
Problem was, he had a sinking feeling his boyfriend was a bottom in
denial. He wasn't as stupid as people thought. He knew his lover
hadn't been faithful to him since, perhaps, their first year
together. He tried to ignore it. He tried not think about the fact
that his lover needed something that he wasn't capable of supplying.
He tried not to think about the fact that he needed something
that his lover couldn't give him. He especially tried not to think
about how over the years that stopped being one thing and became a
long list of quirks he hated, things he wanted, and stupid arguments.
He wanted it to work. After so many years of their on again/off again
love life, there was something there worth saving, wasn't there?
There was a commitment. 'A commitment to what, Shay? Making one
another miserable?'

Charlie
looked up as someone tapped him on the shoulder. Ah, Bill.

Seamus
startled at the sudden movement and sat up, turning away quickly and
wiping at his eyes, trying to pretend he'd just been tired.

Bill
tilted his head thoughtfully to the side. He recognized that guy from
somewhere. Where was it? Well, not important now. He had Viktor with
him, fingers laced together. He leaned down over Charlie. “Vik
and I are over the whole dancing and clubbing thing. We're gonna, you
know...” he nodded toward the exit.

Charlie
understood very clearly. They were going to skip the whole screaming
at midnight thing in favor of a whole different kind of screaming
back in Viktor's hotel room. He grinned at the way Bill couldn't
outright say it though. He nodded and waved them off. “Catch up
with you some time tomorrow,” Charlie said.

“You're
alright on your own?” Bill asked over the music.

“Totally
fine! Now get lost, I'm trying to be flirty and charming here.”

Bill
and Viktor made their way out of the club and Charlie turned back to
Seamus, running his and over the younger man's forearm. “Sorry
about that,” Charlie said. “My brother. He's just worried
about me spending New Year's all alone. Silly, innit? Especially when
I have such good company.” He chugged his own drink, finally
remembering it was there.

Seamus
wrinkled his nose a bit. “Liar. All 've done is drink,
complain, and cry on you. I'm pathetic.” He sighed. “Maybe
yer right. Maybe it is time to call it quits,” he moped.
He felt oddly sober for being so drunk. The murky-headed feeling
wasn't there. He knew he'd had too much to drink. He was staring at
his half-empty bottle wondering if waking up in the morning by
rushing for the toilet was worth finishing it over. As to his
relationship – well, he figured that had gone down the shitter
a long while ago. He grabbed the bottle and chugged the last of it,
nearly falling backward off of his stool. Charlie caught him in one
of those big, strong, manly arms of his. He had this look of concern
in his eyes that made Seamus swoon a bit as he was lifted back up
properly. He shook off his diziness.

“Enough
drinking?” Charlie asked.

“Think
so,” Seamus answered, then blurted, “You dance? Dance
with me. Make sure I don't fall over or puke on anyone, right?”

“Do
I dance!” Charlie declared. “My dancing will make you
forget all about that good-for nothing boyfriend of yours.”

Seamus
didn't know why he found that so funny as he was dragged, stumbling,
out to the dance floor. “Ex-boyfriend,” he declared as
Charlie placed a hand on his hip to keep him steady. “...as
soon as he shows his stupid face so I can tell him.” It was
rude to break up with someone via owl, wasn't it? And by the way, how
the hell could someone so big and muscular move so well. “...shite.”

Charlie
chuckled, his belly shaking a bit. “It's okay, I won't tell
anyone you think I'm sexy,” he joked.

Seamus
blushed, knowing damn well it had nothing to do with the beer as he
rested his hands on Charlie's shoulders and proceeded to move with
him. He felt dizzy. The music thundered through his alcohol-blurred
mind as the night carried on. Midnight came and went on the dance
floor as he danced with the burly, nameless red-head in that way
that's just full of all kinds of sexual innuendo. He was too drunk to
be embarrassed about the erection pressing against the front of his
trousers as he pressed his back to Charlie's chest, bent his thighs
and rolled his hips against an answering bulge in the older man's
fitted jeans that was definitely no pencil. Too drunk. And yet
not drunk enough to not realize he shouldn't be grinding his arse
against a strange man's erection like this. Drunk enough to drop his
head back against Charlie's shoulder and glory in the feeling of
those strong arms wrapped around his midsection and sliding up his
raised arms, but not drunk enough to not understand how wrong it was
for him to pull the man's head down to him and crush their lips
together in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, which he moaned into as
sparks of electricity shot through his body as he eagerly invited the
man to devour his tongue and very nearly came in his pants just from
that.

“Gad
I'm horny...” Seamus rasped when the kiss broke.

Charlie
locked his gaze as they panted for breath. It had nothing to do with
the fact that they'd been dancing for well over an hour and
everything to do with that incredible kiss. “Do you...want to
go somewhere?” he whispered into the Irishman's ear, dragging
his tongue along the shell as he waited for an answer.

Seamus
shuddered. “Feck yes,” he exhaled. He shouldn't. He knew
he shouldn't. So why had he just agreed? Could he justify to himself
that just because he'd decided to dump his boyfriend, that made him a
free agent as of tonight? No, of course not. This would still,
definitely, be cheating, but wasn't turnabout fair play? No, Seamus
couldn't think like that either. He could hardly think at all. It was
hard to keep a thought in his head for more than a moment with hot
lips trailing down his throat and the redhead's now substantial bulge
rolling against his arse as they continued to dance through the rest
of the current song, unable to pull their bodies apart long enough to
contemplate going anywhere. “Room!” he rasped finally as
Charlie's teeth grazed the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Feck,
room. Upstairs. Ah've got one. Key's in me pocket.”

Charlie
dipped his hands into Seamus' pockets, and didn't resist subtly
groping the Irishman a bit as he dug for the slender piece of metal
he was assured was there somewhere past the wad of cash and loosely
wrapped mints. He nibbled lightly at Seamus' throat as he searched,
feeling the wand in the waistband of his pants poking back into his
podgy belly. He knew he shouldn't be molesting the dejected, younger
man like this – and even if he overlooked that, he definitely
shouldn't be doing it while bumping and grinding on the dance floor –
but everyone was too drunk and too interested in their own private
parties to notice anyone else's. Pubs were good for that. Pubs at New
Year's were even better. He found the key and removed himself from
Seamus' body, catching him when the unsuspecting and intensely
aroused young man almost collapsed. He wrapped an arm around his
waist. “Merlin, you're cute,” he murmured into an
open-mouthed kiss. “I've got'cha.”

Seamus
giggled. Between the booze and the dancing and the intensity of his
arousal about the only thing that he could think of was how this
handsome older man was going to shag him senseless. “...caint
barley move me legs,” he slurred as he buried his face into
Charlie's shoulder. “All wobbly.”

Charlie
chuckled. “Mn, yeah, I have that effect on all the cute boys,”
he joked. “Don't worry, though. Your legs – as gorgeous
as I'm sure they are under those khakis – aren't the part of
your anatomy I'm most interested in at the moment.” He helped
Seamus along upstairs, hoping upon hope the Irishman wasn't so drunk
that he fell asleep the moment his head hit the mattress. He may be a
jerk for taking advantage of the young man's heartache, but he sure
as hell wasn't a rapist.

Seamus
leaned back against Charlie's chest, glorying in the man's broadness.
It felt great, just leaning back against such a strong, stocky frame.
It wasn't the only thing that felt great. He was also rather pleased
the thick bulge pressed against the curve of his spine.

Charlie
fumbled with the keys in his eagerness. The beautiful Irishman was so
eager against him that it was all he could do to keep his composure
and not shag him into the door right where they were. He somehow
managed to restrain himself and clumsily push open the door.

Seamus
stumbled inside, barely able to keep his feet and already tearing his
shirt over his head by the time Charlie managed to lock the door, but
he somehow got his arms stuck in the upward tug. Why did his limbs
refuse to work properly?! Didn't they know he was about to get well
and truly shagged and needed their full cooperation for the task?

Charlie's
warm laugh washed up his spine as the large man came up to press
against his bared back. “Having a bit of trouble?” he
asked.

“Mphmnhmph!”
Seamus whined into his shirt. 'I'm
stuck in here!' “Mphfaaahh!”
he moaned as the older man took advantage of his predicament to graze
those big, calloused hands over his bare skin and pinched his
nipples. Oh, how he loved having his nipples pinched! How did the man
know? His
boyfriend – former
boyfriend, he reminded himself – never
paid anything but his arse any mind. Seamus thought the neglect had
somehow made the rest of his body more sensitive, because everywhere
this man touched him felt like it was on fire. “Mmph...mmnaaah...”

Charlie
gloried in the way the other man turned to putty at even the
slightest touch, and took pity on him, freeing him off the oppressive
shirt. Hair tousled, and lips moist, Seamus looked the picture of
debauchery as he leaned his head back against Charlie's shoulder,
lips parted as his soft tongue ran over them.

Charlie
took the invitation eagerly, tilting his head down to devour that
soft mouth again. Their tongues tangled eagerly as the Weasley
caressed the slighter body – ribs, thighs, chest, avoiding for
now the source of Seamus' need. He tugged on the young man's nipples
again, twisting them a bit, and moaned into his mouth at the way the
Irishman cussed into the kiss, bucking before him in delight. “Like
that, huh?” he murmured.

“Fecking
love it!” Seamus rasped as he was shoved backward to flop back
on the bed with a slight bounce as Charlie tore his own shirt away
and tossed it aside.

Seamus
watched him, awed, as he climbed over him. Broad shoulders, big
hands, well-muscled chests, and all these little scars dotting his
torso – burns and claw marks that just made the man even more
ruggedly handsome for the imperfection. He dragged his hands along
the bared torso and let out a shaky breath, finding himself oddly
sobered in spite of his intoxication. “Love this,”
he murmured as Charlie let him explore his bared upper body for a few
long moments. “Shite. You're fecking gorgeous.”

“Watch
your tongue, young man,” Charlie joked at Seamus' apparent need
to use expletives every third word. 'He's
as bad as Ron. Okay. Ew. You are NOT going to think of your kid
brother while shagging.' Of
course, he had no way of knowing at the time that he was shagging a
young man who'd spent seven years sharing a room with said brother.

“Watch
it do what?” Seamus challenged. “I can watch it lick your
cock, if you want.”

Charlie
shivered a bit. That would be rather nice, wouldn't it? Those sexy,
pouty lips wrapped around his prick...oh, that would be heaven.
But... “Heh, maybe later,” he said, laying kisses along
Seamus' neck and collarbone. He should feel a bit guilty that he was
marking him up like that, but he'd given up on guilt out on the dance
floor when the sandy-haired angel had started grinding his pert
little arse into his lap. He moved down to claim one of those
sensitive nipples between his lips and was rewarded with a sexy
little whimper, fingers lacing into his hair, and another string of
curses as he nearly tore the khakis and boxer shorts in his haste to
get the Irishman naked.

He
moved to the other nipple – licking, sucking, even biting
(Seamus seemed to particularly like the biting) – as he fought
with the button on his skin-tight jeans and wiggled his way out of
them. He wasn't wearing any underpants. He'd been planning to get
laid tonight until he got all jealous of Bill and Viktor being so
cute, and he always seemed to lose his underwear when he went to bed
half-drunk with cute boys, so he'd learned it was best to do without
them under certain circumstances.

He
reluctantly separated from the younger body to fight off his trainers
and get his tangled jeans past his ankles.

Seamus
sat up with a groan, holding his torso up with his hands, and licked
his lips, unable to keep himself from ogling Charlie's package.
Pornographically thick, long, and moist with pre-cum. Gorgeous and
huge and going to feel so good after eight years of 'slightly
smaller than average'. 'Eight years? I must be mad. What the hell
is there about Him that could keep a guy coming back for more abuse
for eight fucking years?' He'd practically been a child when he
started seeing Him. It was exciting then, and at thirteen, all full
of puberty with these forbidden pleasures within reach and an older
man willing to give them to him... really, he hadn't known any better
then. But how was it that at 20, when he did know better, and the
bastard had been treating him like a pair of old socks for years, he
was still hanging on? He wouldn't feign complete innocence. They'd
been on again off again, and while He was the main reason for that,
Seamus had been with other men when they were 'taking a break'. But
somehow, He always ended up in tears on his doorstep, and somehow,
Seamus kept letting him back in.

Charlie
leaned over him and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Hey.”

Seamus
blinked out of the thoughts and returned to the present with this
big, sexy man and the bratwurst he was packing between his thighs.
“Hey,” he smiled shyly.

“Second
thoughts?” Charlie asked. Seamus had been gawking at him, and
then his thoughts seemed to wander and his gaze lost focus like he
was somewhere far away.

“ Feck
no,” Seamus answered, pulling Charlie down into a firm kiss. “I
was just thinking about this...” He gave Charlie's cock a few
firm strokes to illustrate his point and smirked when the older man's
eyes gazed. “And how well it's going to fill me up.” He
kissed Charlie again, this time letting the man swallow his tongue as
he tugged on his prick. “...mmn...and how it's been way too
long since I've had a proper shagging on the end of a thick cock like
yours. Actually,” he smirked. “I don't think I've ever
had a prick quite
as big as yours.” He grinned.

Charlie
let out a shaky breath. “Shite. You know just what to say to
get a guy riled, don't you?”

Seamus
moaned as Charlie left another series of marks on his throat and
twisted his nipples to the point the pleasure very nearly verged on
pain. “Feck! Yes!”

Charlie
tossed him back against the bed and cast the usual cleansing spells
over the area. It was especially important in a hotel – you
never know who's been doing what in the bed before you – but
once that was done he wasted no time lifting Seamus' hips from the
mattress, sliding his toned thighs over his shoulders and pulling
open his cheeks to drag his tongue over the Irishman's entrance. He
wasted no time, either, plunging said tongue into the young man as
deep and far as he could, wiggling it, fucking him with his mouth.

Seamus
cried out and bucked against the delicious intrusion, letting off
another string of curses. When Charlie pulled back, about to fumble
for the lube and glaring at how far away he'd left his jeans, he
rasped, “Spell me. I can't wait for you to pound me into the
mattress. Fecking spell me. Please!” He liked
doing it the non-magic way – with fingers and lube, it just
felt so much more romantic and the warmth in his gut built so slowly,
but he just wasn't that patient tonight. The redhead was just perfect
– absolutely everything that Seamus thought made men infinitely
sexier than girls.

Charlie
let out a shuddering breath and nodded. His wand, he'd at least had
the forethought to bring to the bed with him; it had rolled against
his shin. He lowered the slender body to the mattress and twisted for
it, feeling Seamus' eyes roving across his body again, and leaned
over to crush their lips together just as the young man was about to
roll over.

Seamus
moaned into the kiss as he felt the wand tip nudge against his
entrance, and groaned as it relaxed him and quickly worked him open.
It was an efficient spell, if perhaps it left some romance to be
desired. Perfect though, for those nights when you just had to have
it and had to have it right now. And make no mistake, Seamus
had to have it right now.

Charlie
pulled back and stretched his muscles to put his wand on the
nightstand. “Since you seem to like my body so much. I think
you should get a nice view, hm?” he teased. He sat back on his
knees and spread his muscular thighs, pulling Seamus' hips up towards
his dripping cock. The tip pressed against the spell-stretched
pucker. “Last chance to change your mind,” he rasped.
'Please don't change your mind,' he thought.

“Shag
me,” Seamus answered hungrily. “Do it rough.”

Charlie
didn't need to be asked twice. He lifted his hips and impaled the
younger man on his heated flesh.

Seamus
cried out. His hands, up above his head, fisted the pillows. It went
in deeper than he thought it would, spread him wider. There was a
moment where tension shot through his belly and he forgot to breathe,
and then a shaky exhale as tears edged his eyes.

“You...”
Charlie started to ask, concerned. He hated hurting lovers, even if
he was the king of one-night stands.

“ Feck,
that feels good!” Seamus exclaimed at last. It did. There was a
dull burn, but he'd never minded a little pain, especially if the
pleasure was so much greater. He took a few deep breaths, reveling in
the feeling of being spread open so wide, penetrated so deep. He
didn't want to think of himself as a size whore but...oh, who was he
kidding? He was totally a size whore.

The
tears edged down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut when Charlie
started to move his hips. He held Seamus steady, those big hands
keeping a firm grip on his hips, and rocked back and forth. The first
few thrusts were careful, but they were both so riled it was only a
few moments before Charlie was giving his arse the rough treatment
he'd asked for.

Seamus,
unable to do much else from this position other than thoroughly enjoy
himself, screamed out a series of cuss words that let Charlie know
just how good the stocky older man was making him feel. The
expletives were only interrupted by long, deep moans. Charlie
answered Seamus' declarations with his own – told him how tight
he was, how good it felt, all the usual cliches that mean nothing and
everything at the same time as he found the younger man's prostate
and abused it with the hardest, fasted thrusts his body could manage
and the bed squeaked beneath them.

“Feeeeecccckkk!”
Seamus cried out as he came, back arching hard enough that he half
buried his face into the pillows above his head, his seed arching
high into the air and landing in hot splashes across his torso as his
muscles clamped down hard on the member in his body, spasming around
it, and pulling Charlie along with him, releasing the heaviest load
he'd released in a long while into the sexy young man's greedy
arsehole.

Charlie's
thighs quivered as he slipped out. Seamus, lowered to the mattress,
sighed contently. He'd never gotten off without his prick being
touched before, and it had been an incredible experience. He
shuddered as Charlie gently worked his tongue up his body, licking up
the release splattered across his torso before lowering his big body
onto the mattress beside him. He could feel it dip, and then there
was a thick arm curled around his chest, a muscular thigh draped over
his leg and a large, spent cock pressed into his hip.

Charlie
gently tilted his head and they exchanged a few more cum-flavored,
open-mouthed kisses. “You're beautiful,” Charlie murmured
drowsily. “Any man who can't see that is a fool, and doesn't
deserve you.” He caressed Seamus' cheek, kissed him once more,
and then, draped across the younger man's body, fell almost instantly
to sleep.

Seamus
lay there for a while, the booze wearing off a bit, the lust ebbing
to afterglow, and the afterglow quickly fading until he was overcome
by an intense wave of guilt. 'Fuck. He's probably talking his
brother down from the ledge, and what am I doing? Cursing his name,
calling him a lousy lover, and shagging other guys. I'm horrible. I'm
scum. Whose shoulder would he have to cry on about all that's shite
in his life, if not mine? Fuck, Percy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...'
But even though he thought those things, it was well past dawn when
he finally managed the willpower to pull himself out of the stocky
redhead's strong, comforting arms.

When
Charlie woke up late New Year's morning, he was alone. The room had
been packed up, and his clothes were folded and left on the
nightstand with his wand, but there was no sexy Irishman, no note,
and, Charlie realized belatedly, no name. “Shite. Should have
remembered to ask his name...” He raked his fingers back
through his hair and sighed, feeling uncharacteristically abandoned.
He wouldn't have minded a second go with that guy. Or a third...maybe
even a fourth...

...if
he was honest with himself, he thought it wouldn't be all that bad a
deal if that arse was the only one he got to shag for the rest of his
life. After all, it was a damn fine arse, and the man attached to it
was pretty damn fine himself. He knew it was stupid to think that way
about a guy he barely knew, but it was just...there was something
there – something that, given the opportunity, could have
changed everything for Charlie.

He
sighed as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, then
reached for the pants. He drooped a bit, ran a hand over his face.
“Buck up, mate,” he told himself. “You got exactly
what you were looking for last night: a good shag. If what you're
looking for and what you need aren't the same thing, well, then the
problem's with you, innit?” He scoffed a bit at how
ridiculously deep his tirades were getting. “Conscience, thy
name is Bill.” His inner voice really was starting to sound a
hell of a lot like his older brother these days, and if one Bill in
his life wasn't enough – he was damn well sure that two was
more than he could stand.
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It's Complicated