FIC: Thoughts while wanking: Unique to Seamus? ~ seamus/dean ~ rated R
title: Thoughts while wanking: Unique to Seamus?
author: kaalee
pairing: Seamus/Dean
word count: ~680 words
rating: R
prompt: Night
a/n: Written for my Seamus/Dean claim at 50_smutlets. This story follows the previous story, and is from Seamus's perspective this time. Dedicated to inspiredlife & magicofisis for figuring out a kaalee-ism in a recent story. ♥
:: previous::
Thoughts while wanking: Unique to Seamus?
seamus/dean, rated R
::
Sometimes Seamus is so turned on he can barely think. He's often wondered if it's normal, or if it's just an Irish thing, or possibly just an embarrassing characteristic unique to him.
Now, though, he's not turned on at all. Only an hour ago Dean found him wanking in the shower and everything about that feels wrong.
Or, almost everything.
Because, the thing is? Seamus knew that Dean had come in. He knew it. And he maybe might have waited to start pulling himself off until after Dean had come in. He heard the swish of the door, and he knew Dean's footsteps, and even before that, he had known Dean would be coming in. Seamus hadn't quite figured out how he knew those things, but he did.
And, god, it had been bloody fantastic.
Seamus had taken hold of himself and let the water sluice over his back, warming him as he moved his hand, slowly at first, not wanting to be too obvious. As he pumped, Seamus had thought about the various things he always did when pulling himself off, freezing when an image of Dean touching himself flew into his mind. Seamus had sucked his breath, suddenly aware of the odd silence in the room, and wondering if Dean was -- god -- if he was doing the same thing.
It had been short and fast, not furious exactly, but less controlled than he normally was. He'd lit onto that image of Dean and not let go. Not even for a moment, really, because how could he when Dean was right there?
After a few short minutes, Seamus's muscles had exploded in a sudden warm wash and lights had pricked the back of his eyes as he came -- hard and pulsing and all over his hand -- in a steady rush of godDeanyespleaseGOD!
As soon as Dean's wand had clanged to the floor, Seamus had realized that Dean was doing the same thing... pulling himself off. At the same time. In the same fucking room.
Dean had been doing the same thing.
Seamus had reached for his towel, not sure exactly what he was going to say, but still felt the rush of liquid courage coursing through him.
He'd opened the curtain and started to speak, but suddenly, his realization melted into a steady burn of doubt and he'd lost his nerve, hurrying out with his cheeks aflame and getting dressed in a hurry.
And, now?
Now, it's an hour later and Seamus is sitting on his bed, trying to get his homework done and failing completely. He glances over at Dean, who's doing the same thing, and presses his lips together, wondering if he should say something.
Unexpectedly, Seamus is angry. He should be able to wank in the shower without anyone knowing about it -- or at least without Dean figuring out so easily that he's not thinking of Professor Olanike. Being so close to her for three quarters of an hour just about kills him because, god help him, she makes him think of Dean and...
And, god, it's wrong to think those things about your best mate.
If Seamus was in charge, he would have waited until night silenced the rest of the dormitory. He would have opened the curtain, letting the moonlight shine in, and watched Dean. He would have watched those dark fingers, watched how long Dean grew as he touched himself, watched how quickly or slowly Dean moved. He would have examined Dean's face: what did his eyes do? His lips? Did his lower lip hang slack, all full and tempting and ready to kiss?
Seamus would have matched his own rhythm to Dean's, tugging silently and imagining that they were doing it together. This, Seamus is pretty sure is unique to him, because who in the fucking hell else wanks over their best mate? Who else literally yearns to touch their best mate, to see him, to feel what it would be like with their bodies brilliantly, hotly together?
Yeah.
Yeah, he's the only one alright. And what a fucking mess it is.
::
:: next::
~thank you so much for reading! ♥
[ table]
author: kaalee
pairing: Seamus/Dean
word count: ~680 words
rating: R
prompt: Night
a/n: Written for my Seamus/Dean claim at 50_smutlets. This story follows the previous story, and is from Seamus's perspective this time. Dedicated to inspiredlife & magicofisis for figuring out a kaalee-ism in a recent story. ♥
:: previous::
Thoughts while wanking: Unique to Seamus?
seamus/dean, rated R
::
Sometimes Seamus is so turned on he can barely think. He's often wondered if it's normal, or if it's just an Irish thing, or possibly just an embarrassing characteristic unique to him.
Now, though, he's not turned on at all. Only an hour ago Dean found him wanking in the shower and everything about that feels wrong.
Or, almost everything.
Because, the thing is? Seamus knew that Dean had come in. He knew it. And he maybe might have waited to start pulling himself off until after Dean had come in. He heard the swish of the door, and he knew Dean's footsteps, and even before that, he had known Dean would be coming in. Seamus hadn't quite figured out how he knew those things, but he did.
And, god, it had been bloody fantastic.
Seamus had taken hold of himself and let the water sluice over his back, warming him as he moved his hand, slowly at first, not wanting to be too obvious. As he pumped, Seamus had thought about the various things he always did when pulling himself off, freezing when an image of Dean touching himself flew into his mind. Seamus had sucked his breath, suddenly aware of the odd silence in the room, and wondering if Dean was -- god -- if he was doing the same thing.
It had been short and fast, not furious exactly, but less controlled than he normally was. He'd lit onto that image of Dean and not let go. Not even for a moment, really, because how could he when Dean was right there?
After a few short minutes, Seamus's muscles had exploded in a sudden warm wash and lights had pricked the back of his eyes as he came -- hard and pulsing and all over his hand -- in a steady rush of godDeanyespleaseGOD!
As soon as Dean's wand had clanged to the floor, Seamus had realized that Dean was doing the same thing... pulling himself off. At the same time. In the same fucking room.
Dean had been doing the same thing.
Seamus had reached for his towel, not sure exactly what he was going to say, but still felt the rush of liquid courage coursing through him.
He'd opened the curtain and started to speak, but suddenly, his realization melted into a steady burn of doubt and he'd lost his nerve, hurrying out with his cheeks aflame and getting dressed in a hurry.
And, now?
Now, it's an hour later and Seamus is sitting on his bed, trying to get his homework done and failing completely. He glances over at Dean, who's doing the same thing, and presses his lips together, wondering if he should say something.
Unexpectedly, Seamus is angry. He should be able to wank in the shower without anyone knowing about it -- or at least without Dean figuring out so easily that he's not thinking of Professor Olanike. Being so close to her for three quarters of an hour just about kills him because, god help him, she makes him think of Dean and...
And, god, it's wrong to think those things about your best mate.
If Seamus was in charge, he would have waited until night silenced the rest of the dormitory. He would have opened the curtain, letting the moonlight shine in, and watched Dean. He would have watched those dark fingers, watched how long Dean grew as he touched himself, watched how quickly or slowly Dean moved. He would have examined Dean's face: what did his eyes do? His lips? Did his lower lip hang slack, all full and tempting and ready to kiss?
Seamus would have matched his own rhythm to Dean's, tugging silently and imagining that they were doing it together. This, Seamus is pretty sure is unique to him, because who in the fucking hell else wanks over their best mate? Who else literally yearns to touch their best mate, to see him, to feel what it would be like with their bodies brilliantly, hotly together?
Yeah.
Yeah, he's the only one alright. And what a fucking mess it is.
::
:: next::
~thank you so much for reading! ♥
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