Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Squirm	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Squirm
- 1
Title:
Squirm
Rating: NC-17 (my keyboard nearly
melted, as a warning)
Prompts: angst, jealousy
(unspoken was asked for, very blatant ended up being given
*blush*)
Warnings: Angst, bondage, dub-con
(depending on how you look at it), coercion, alienation, magical drug
use. Set in 8th year Hogwarts... Seamus is re-taking it as I doubt
the Carrows allowed him to get much of an education ;)
Word
Count: ~4,149
Note: Sorry -this hasn't
been beta'd. Any mistakes are all my own.
Summary:
Seamus understands Ron; but Ron's been missing something
about Seamus. He finds out what in the most graphic of ways.

Ron
didn't know what it was, the thing that had developed between
them.

Seamus Finnigan had always been his dorm mate. They had
argued and shouted together, laughed together, and after the battle,
cried together. They'd been drunk and they'd smoked together at the
start of the year, when going back to Hogwarts for an extra year
seemed too much of a task to contend with.

Then there had been
others with them; Dean had been restless, Harry almost off the
planet. Even Hermione had been unsettled, heading back to rules and
homework after a year of freedom and taking charge of her own life
beyond the library and homework. However, as the year had moved on,
those around them had settled down, but Ron and Seamus seemed stuck
together, on a continual track of confusion.

Ron was sure
that, by accepting Seamus' invitation to the Room of Requirement that
evening, the rails would end in destruction. It was an unsubtle
flutter in his belly; the shake of his fingers. Ron knew.

But
he would go, because Seamus understood him, and he understood Seamus.
He would go.

***
Seamus was waiting for him when he arrived
that evening, only just late at five minutes past nine. He didn't
have time to look at how the room had regenerated itself for them.
Seamus was too distracting.

“Alright?” Seamus
looked at him, getting to his feet.
“Yeah,” Ron
answered, shedding off his cloak, which he had only worn to protect
himself from the chilly corridors, and threw it over the back of the
sofa.

He glanced around the room. It was sumptuous, decorated
in dark red hangings, plush cushions and rugs, and a bed larger than
he thought he had ever seen in his life.

“What-”
“Shut
it,” Seamus ruled, stalking closer.

Ron looked up
warily, meeting the boy's eyes, a brighter shade of blue than his
own. They were filled with something which both excited and
frightened him.

“Time t'put y'money where y'mouth is,
Weasley,” Seamus slurred. Ron blinked, wondering if perhaps he
too should have had a drink before attending that evening. “Or
were you just feckin' lyin'?”

Ron swallowed thickly as
Seamus stepped close to him, carrying with him the scent of honey and
man. In the heady atmosphere it was a quick drug, seeping into Ron's
nostrils and dulling his senses. He remembered what Seamus was
talking about -two nights before when they had shared a bottle of
firewhiskey as the rest of the dorm slept, and they had lain next to
one another on Seamus' bed. A thigh had touched another, and an arm
had followed. Ron shivered thinking of the way that one steady hand
had travelled down his chest to stroke at the hair on his bare belly.
He had stopped Seamus after he'd plucked at the drawstring of his
pyjama bottoms.

“Were y'lyin'?” Seamus cocked his
head to one side, expecting an answer. “I swear if y'were I'll
die.”

Ron frowned. “Bit much, don't you
think?”
“Y've no feckin' idea!” Seamus yelled
suddenly, throwing himself away and stamping over to the fireplace.
“What y'do to me, d'ya?”
“What're you on about?”
Ron reached back with one hand and rubbed at his neck, which had
grown sore from the tension which had built in his body throughout
the day.

Having his hand raised, he didn't have time to react
when Seamus flew back across the space and collided with him. Ron
yelped in surprise and braced himself for a hard impact with the
floor, but to his surprise he landed with a bounce on the bed.
Grunting ungracefully, he let out a gasp when Seamus crawled on top
of him and pinned him to the covers.

The room blurred when the
boy ducked his sandy head and sucked Ron's lower lip in between his
own. When he nipped, Ron cried out with the pain and instinctively
wriggled. Only then did he realise that he was trapped.

Seamus
released him and looked down, panting hot breath over Ron's
face.

“Shay, this is... I don't understand,” Ron
cleared his throat.
“Y'drive me up t'bloody wall,”
Seamus said, his voice low and dangerous. “And when y'look so
feckin' innocent, it kills me. I know what y'want. I've heard it in
the night, moanin' like a feckin' whore.”

Ron blushed at
the accusation and didn't know how to reply.

“And then
t'other night... I can't do it any more... I need to...” a
visible shudder ran through Seamus' body. “Have. Touch. Taste.
Feck. Lick. Suck,” his words sped up and he stuffed his face
into Ron's throat, where he began to suck hard on the virgin flesh
there.
“Shay, we should... take this slow...” Ron
dragged at the air, but found it offered him little comfort.
“I'm
sick o'bloody slow!” he hissed hotly in Ron's ear. “I'm
going to show y'why this'll work, Weasley, and y'going to feckin' let
me.”

Ron held his breath as Seamus threw himself back.
His fingers curled into fists but that was all the opportunity he had
before, with deft magic, his clothes melted away from his body,
leaving him naked.

Naked and mostly hard. His cock was hot as
it nestled in his pubic hair. Seamus' eyes widened and took it
in.

“God.”

With high colour in his cheeks,
Seamus' wand waved again and Ron shuddered as his hands were pulled
high over his head and connected to the headboard of the bed. They
dragged him over the covers, which were so silky that they didn't
burn his back at all as he was forceably moved. His head rested on
thick pillows, propping him up so that he could see the entire long
line of his body, down to his toes.

Hot fingers skimmed up his
legs, starting at the ankles and moving up, rounding over his knees,
and as they hit his thighs, thumbs pressed in and dragged until they
sat in the crease between his thighs and his groin, uncomfortably
close to his cock.

“What're you going to do to me?”
Ron muttered, his voice too thick to be without lust.
“I
haven't got a feckin' clue,” Seamus seemed to lose his nerve
for a moment. “But when I'm through with you... feck, Ron...
you'll never look at another man again. Or another woman. You'll be
mine.”
“Yours?” Ron frowned.

Seamus threw
himself north and shoved his face into Ron's, so that they had a
direct line from pupil to pupil. “Harry. Harry's the one I want
to stop.”
“Stop what?” Ron whispered.
“You
being with,” Seamus looked up shamefully from beneath his
eyelashes. “Can't stand it. Can't stand him. You're so much
better than him, Ron, and he doesn't get y'like I do... not any
more... me, I'm better for yourself than he is.”

“You're
jealous?” Ron asked, staggered.
“I have been fer
years,” Seamus shook his head bitterly. “And this year,
when you've been with me,” he kissed Ron hard on the lips.
“I've been over the feckin' moon. But I've had enough. The
other night you got hard when I touched you and now... now I'm not
going t'wait anymore, Ron. No.”

He shook his head again
and blinked. Ron caught a waft of alcoholic breath on the air. He
couldn't think of what to say, but wished that he was drunk for
it.

“Accio,” Seamus jabbed his wand at the rest of
the room, which looked oddly dark from the bed. “Need to get
you up to speed.”

Ron watched with apprehension as
Seamus unscrewed the cap of the whiskey bottle and lifted it to his
lips. Ron obediently drank from it, ignoring the scorch on his tongue
and throat as he glugged at the amber liquid. Seamus paused every now
and then to give him a break, but the glass remained at his lips and
Ron continued to drink. He liked to think that if he asked firmly
enough, Seamus would have stopped.

“Good boy,”
Seamus teased, reaching out to wipe the lingering traces from Ron's
lips.

Without thinking, Ron captured one of the digits in his
mouth and sucked it clean, letting his tongue bat at the soft pad.
Seamus' eyes went wide and his mouth slackened. A wanting moan
rumbled out of his lips.

“Shite, Weasley, y'know how to
get me goin',” he took a heavy swig from the bottle himself and
then sent it to the side table. Its landing 'thunk!' was loud in the
quiet room.

“I'm...” Ron heard his own shallow
breath and waited for the effects to kick in. Between them, he and
Seamus had found a way to lace their alcohol with potion which made
it work more quickly. They'd shared enough of it since September for
him to know he only had seconds before his vision would speed up, and
his pulse would quicken too.

“Feelin' it yet?”
Seamus crooned, stroking his hand down to rub Ron's belly. It felt
oddly erotic and Ron couldn't prevent his cock's reaction. It
twitched, unmissable to Seamus' wandering eyes, and the boy above him
grinned. “Y'want it.”

Ron moaned as his ankles
were grabbed; Seamus seemed too quick. He was in between Ron's legs,
hoisting his ankles into the air, exposing him without shame nor
dignity. Ron blushed and waited, watching the way that Seamus' eager
eyes raked over the sight of his most private areas, parts which
nobody but him and his entourage of large family caregivers as a
child had ever seen. Nobody had seem them as an adult.

“Beautiful,”
Seamus breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. “And mine.”

Ron
didn't answer him, trying to make sense of everything. He was
sprawled on his back tied down, legs akimbo, and Seamus was
practically drooling over him. He was suddenly wrenched from his
foggy musings when a wet mouth clamped down in the arch of his foot,
licking.

“Ugh, don't... I must stink,” Ron thought
of the earlier Quidditch practice and felt a fool for not
washing.
“No mind,” Seamus dismissed, grabbing his
wand.

Ron shivered as the litany of hygiene spells raced
across his flesh, sweeping over his hole, balls and cock, under his
arms, along the soles of his feet and through the gaps in his toes,
into his belly button and ears.

“Thorough,” he
grunted, trying not to giggle as he was tickled by the spell.

Seamus
merely resumed his sucking and Ron arched his back off the bed when
the Irishman reached the crease between toes and foot. His tongue
flitted along there, back and forth, up and down.

“Shit,
stop it!” Ron cried, when his cock was straining uncomfortably
on his belly. “Shay, please.”

But he carried on,
teasing Ron with wetness and warmth, occasionally licking up entire
toes and sucking at their tip. He might as well have been sucking on
the end of Ron's cock for the reaction it caused. He keened at the
canopy of the four-poster and pressed his hips into the air, wishing
that there was something to create friction on his neglected
erection.

“P-Please,” he hoarseness of his voice
shocked him and he moaned, tossing his head from side to side.
“Shay...”

He breathed a sigh of relief as one
ankle was released, but moaned with both fear and anticipation as the
other was picked up. He let out a low whine as the whole process
began again, and Seamus grinned dirtily at him.

“Why?”
Ron panted, throwing his head back and clenching his jaw.
“I
want t'see y'squirm,” Seamus muttered in response. “I
want to see y'feckin' beggin' me to come, Ron.”

As he
resumed his ministrations once more, Ron thought that the man
wouldn't have long to wait. He was leaking heavily onto his stomach.
He could see the pool of glistening liquid resting there, waiting to
be lapped up.

“Enjoying the sight of yourself, are we?”
Seamus grinned, suddenly paying attention.
“No,” Ron
breathed. “I just... nnngh!”

He cried out loud as
Seamus pounced forward, putting his face close to Ron's penis, but
aiming for the stickiness that Ron himself had been considering.
Seamus' pink tongue lapped out, tasted once, and tasted again. The
noise was pornographic.

“You taste so feckin' good,
Ron... Christ... I'm going to drink you till your balls are fucking
dry and then start over again.”

Ron shivered. The
promise of that was more alluring than he could ever have imagined.
Nobody knew where they were. They had the whole night -no, he
had the whole night- to remain tied, helpless, to the bed, and Seamus
could do whatever he wanted to do to him.

Ron knew that he
probably had limits, but as the whiskey kicked in he had no chance of
remembering what they were. In the morning he might be angry that
Seamus had forced him to drink, to become so inebriated that fucking
a tree might have seemed a good idea. For that moment, however,
nothing felt better than the Irishman's tongue on his skin, lapping
up his body's sexual emissions.

He shivered again as Seamus'
chin clipped the soggy tip of his cock.

“I've played
around before,” Seamus mouthed against the hot column of flesh.
“I know how to make y'scream for me.”
“I'd do
it,” Ron assured him, hot in the face. He shifted his arms,
suddenly desperate to be free and touch the boy in return.

“Oh
no y'don't,” Seamus laughed, his tone breathy as he reached for
something else. “Not yet. Maybe not at all.”

Ron
watched with curious eyes as Seamus pulled the stopper out of the
bottle he'd picked up. He poured some of the clear liquid into his
hands and then rubbed them together. When they pulled apart, Ron
noticed they were glistening far too much. He didn't protest when
Seamus put his hands onto his hips and began to rub. The smoothness
felt divine. It took at least ten seconds for the first sensation to
kick in, and Ron didn't properly understand what it was.

“What's
happening?” he gasped, as the skin which had been coated with
the crystalline liquid began to almost tickle without further
touch.
“Special massage oil,” Seamus grinned. “It
reacts to oxygen... everything it touches gets
super-sensitised...”

He met Ron's eyes and held them as
he wrapped his hand around Ron's cock, slowly, and squeezed.

“Shit!”
Ron threw his head back and caterwauled at the canopy. “Oh oh
oh... fuck it, Seamus... please... no more!”

He howled
as his nipples were pinched and coated with the devilish substance.
When his legs parted and lifted again, he clenched, as if he could
stop the obvious from happening; he could not. The first swipe of
Seamus' greased finger over his anus stole his breath away -the
second nearly blinded him.

Ron quickly descended into a babble
of shouts, begs and pleas. His body felt like it was being molested
by a thousand different hands, but they were only made of air. His
nipples were harder than he'd ever felt them, and his hips, belly and
groin were alive with sweeping caresses which didn't stop. The worst,
by far, was his backside, however. Seamus still fingered there,
looking greedily down at the clenching little hole and, Ron's heart
stuttered to see, licking his lips.

“My cousin made
this,” Seamus whispered with a grin. “Grand, ain't
it?”
“N-No!” Ron bucked, his desperation
reaching a new peak. “No, it's... fucking... oh God... I'm
gonna come.”
“No you're not,” Seamus answered,
calmly. “Not until I say.”
“What?” Ron
gasped.
“I'll tell you when y'can come.”

An odd
look of command had come over Seamus' usually genial face and Ron had
to admit it, it drove straight to the pit of his belly and dug into
the lust which had steadily built there since he had landed on the
bed. Seamus stared at him, determined, it seemed, to gain his
approval.

“Please,” Ron breathed, twisting against
his binds. “Just make this stop and I'll do whatever you
want.”
“Love me?” Seamus grinned naughtily,
crawling up the bed and pinning a hand a piece on either side of
Ron's head.
“Yes!” Ron choked.
“Suck me off
whenever I ask you to, even if we're in a lesson?”
“Yes!”

Something
flashed in Seamus' eyes and Ron whimpered, biting hard into his lower
lip as he pressed his hips up into the air.

“Why are
you doing this?” Ron croaked. “I would have been with
you, Seamus... I would have kissed you and... let you touch me and
touched you... you didn't need to...”
“This is what I
like,” Seamus whispered in return. “I like... seeing
y'squirm and yell,” he answered with a blush. “I know I'm
a feckin' pervert, and I'm sorry... but y'were just too delicious to
let go...”
“Where would I have gone?” Ron asked
desperately. “I don't love anyone! I've not touched Hermione in
weeks. I don't want her. I don't know what I fucking want other than
to... fucking... oh... come!”

Seamus' fingers had
wrapped around his cock again and were pumping up and down, shifting
the foreskin and when he neared the tip, a thumb swept over it,
swirling the re-gathered juice there. Ron yelled again as the
sensation was so much heavier than it should have been; it felt like
more than a thumb that parted his slit and pressed inward slightly.
The sting was both painful and erotic, and his balls drew tight up to
his body.

“Gonna come...”
“Not until I
tell you,” Seamus hissed.
“But-”
“Not
until I say.”

Ron dropped his head back and felt sweat
running down the back of his neck and on his temples. The backs of
his knees were damp, but he realised he hadn't even noticed that
Seamus no longer held them aloft, but they were suspended by magic.
He was exposed completely and his hole appeared to be twitching
involuntarily, reacting to the air and the movement of Seamus' hand
just above it. He knew what he wanted.

“Stick your
fingers in me,” he breathed, dropping his chin into his chest
to meet Seamus' eye. “Please.”

There wasn't a hint
of uncertainty. Seamus dropped his aching cock and moved south,
trailing his fingers to play around the pucker. Ron held his breath
and waited for the intrusion. He had stuck his own finger up there
once, when he was younger and just curious to see if he could, in the
bath. It had hurt. Seamus', however, was far silkier and pressed into
him, past the first ring of muscle. Ron felt unbelievably
full.

“Feck...” Seamus moaned, closing his eyes at
the tightness and resistance his finger met. “I wish that was
my cock. I wish I was feckin' ye until you lost control.”

He
muttered to himself, not to Ron, it was clear. Ron watched the
developing colour in Seamus' face and throat, the stiff line of his
jaw and a vein which had appeared through his forehead. He was about
to open his mouth and grant the man his wish when Seamus' finger
crooked, and the world exploded around Ron. He could see nothing,
because his head spun, and every single spot that the oil had touched
screamed. Ron screamed along with his body, high and loud, unable to
control anything whilst Seamus was touching him there.

“Come,”
Seamus gasped.

Ron was already halfway gone. His hips lifted
and his backside trapped Seamus' finger in a tight vice. His cock
exploded without another touch, leaking in spurts onto his belly,
where it pooled, sticky and hot, on the skin.

“So
loud,” Seamus moaned happily. “Knew y'would be. Hoped.
Dreamt. Jesus.”

Ron couldn't stop. His sac was tight and
his cock still rigid as his orgasm continued, ripping apart his guts
and sense of reality at the same time. He was floating, surely -the
bed was made of some ethereal substance which suspended him, removing
weight and pressure until there was nothing but the bliss of his
orgasm, and Seamus' finger up his arse.

“What've you
done to me?” he gasped, trembling. “I can't
stop...”

Seamus crawled up to his head and bent to kiss
Ron with an open mouth. It took away from the dizziness and
heightened it at the same time. When he felt fabric brush against his
shoulder, and heard a zip, he knew what he would find when he opened
his eyes. The slippery head of Seamus' cock pressed against his lips
and Ron obediently opened, sucking in the spongy flesh and moaning
around it. He lapped with his tongue, desperate for more of the
tangy, unusual taste -a taste he had never known, and never hoped of
knowing.

In one night, everything about him had been thrown
into disrepute.

Seamus' hips suddenly jerked and Ron coughed
as the man spilt into his mouth. The seed was hot and thick,
spattering down his throat in long pulls. Seamus had thrown his hands
up to grip Ron's, which lay still bound on the pillows.

“Nngh
Godric, you feckin' bastard,” Seamus hissed, trembling through
the aftershocks.

Ron realised that, thankfully, Seamus' own
orgasm had made him miss the subsiding of his own, and his cock had
begun to rapidly deflate. He began to pant as his vision
swum.

Seamus shifted and looked down at him, eyes as clouded
with tiredness as Ron guessed his own were.

A punishing kiss
landed on his lips before Seamus bounded off the bed, and Ron
shivered, suddenly feeling very, very alone.

The dungeon was hot, and the bottom of Ron's
hair stuck to his sweaty neck as he bent over his cauldron. Hermione
worked feverishly next to him, adding her ingredients with pedantic
preciseness. Harry stood on his other side, haphazardly throwing
ingredients into the bubbling bowl, which even Ron could see was
never going to produce the complex calming draft they were aiming
for.

And then, as Ron had grown used to doing, he glanced up
and looked over at the table in front. Seamus met his eyes. The usual
steady burn bore from his azure irises, and flicked accusingly to
Harry. Ron jerked his head once and pleaded with his own
eyes.

“You,” he mouthed.

The bell rang and
all of them jumped; they had been so submersed in their brewing that
none of them had noticed the time slipping away.

“Stasis
spells, and you can continue next lesson. Not that some of you will
want to,” Slughorn looked disparagingly at a few peoples'
efforts, including Harry's. “Have a good night.”

He
waddled out of the dungeon at the head of the queue, and Ron was slow
to cast his spell and bend for his bag. Harry and Hermione were
already at the door.

“Catch you up,” Ron waved
them on. “Need the loo anyway, I'll meet you in the hall for
dinner.”
“You always say that,” Harry said,
keeping his tone reserved. “Most of the time you don't turn
up.”
“I'll be there,” Ron promised with a warm
grin.

The door closed softly behind Hermione, leaving him
alone in the brewing room apart from one other body.

“I
have to spend time with my friends,” he turned to Seamus.
“Understand that.”
“But-”
“No
buts,” Ron growled, stalking across the flagstones and wrapping
his arms around Seamus' waist. “I can't just leave them after
everything we've been through.”
“They don't get
you.”
“No, they don't,” Ron acknowledged. Harry
and Hermione hadn't understood his mad insomnia, or his appreciation
of the drink. They hadn't understood how he could function after
staying awake all night and hitting the bottle hard. Seamus did.
There were other things that they understood that Seamus did
not.

Ron knew that his new relationship wasn't healthy. He
knew that Seamus' possession and jealousy was dangerous, and that if
he let it, he would be overpowered by the smothering affection the
Irishman seemed content to pour on him.

Unhealthy or not,
nothing else felt quite like when Seamus kissed him, or touched him,
coursing his hands over Ron's naked body, making it sing and explode
in climax. Nothing.

He kissed the shorter wizard, and revelled
in the taste, ignoring the tension which lingered in his
chest.

-fin-
- 1
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