the_water_clock: abstract painting (Untitled (Seagram Mural) 1959)
the_water_clock ([personal profile] the_water_clock) wrote2013-03-31 06:09 pm

FIC: Feel Your Way (Seamus/Dean, NC-17)

Author: Clio
Title: Feel Your Way
Pairing: Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Seamus wants to try some manscaping, so he gets a pot of wax and leaves the rest up to Dean.
Warning: Some minor pain that comes with waxing off hair, but it's not the point of the story.
Length: 1200 words
Notes: Written for the "waxplay" square on my [community profile] kink_bingo card. Awesomely beta'd by the awesome [personal profile] verity.

"I dunno," Seamus says, shrugging. "Some people like it smooth."

Dean scowls. "I don't, obviously," he says, looking at Seamus's hairy chest.

Seamus doesn't, either; Dean has plenty of body hair and Seamus loves every little bit of it. "But we haven't tried it yet," he says. "Anyway, the wax is supposed to be nice on its own."

"Nice while it's yanking out your hair?" Dean asks.

"Dripping candles, I meant."

"I think that's different," Dean says, "and you hate it when it hurts."

Seamus raises his eyebrows haughtily. "I can suffer for beauty," he says. "So where do you want it?"

"I thought you--"

"On me," Seamus says, patiently, because he likes offering up his body to Dean to do with what he wants, but it always takes Dean some time to accept. Seamus is sitting on the bathroom counter and he can't help kicking his legs nervously, but he's willing to wait Dean out.

Dean is leaning against the wall, nude and arms crossed, looking at Seamus's naked body thoughtfully. "Your arse, then," he says. "See if it feels different under my tongue."

Seamus bites his lip: Dean's dirty talk, while rare, is filthier than anything because it's so damn matter-of-fact. "Let's do that," he replies, and hops down off the counter.

Though he's already showered, Seamus still performs one of his standard sanitizing charms, and Dean tells him to stop being ridiculous, because bickering will shake out some of their jitters. Dean is concentrating on heating the wax and reading the directions while Seamus brings a cushion into the bathroom, lays a towel over it, and lies down atop it.

"Right," Dean says, his voice tense. "This'll be hot, obviously." He's stirring the melted wax with a large, soft brush.

"Just do it already," Seamus says and tries not to tense up.

"It'll be easier if you, er …"

Seamus turns his head. "What?" he asks.

"Spread for me?" Dean asks.

It's odd; shoving his arse into Dean's face isn't new in any way, even spreading himself open, but Seamus feels a little self-conscious. Still, he does as he's told, and bends his head down and closes his eyes. He can sense Dean moving toward him, and then a thick layer of wax is brushed on, coating all the skin from the base of his balls back along the crack of his arse. It's very warm but not overly hot, like stepping into a steaming, freshly run bath.

"All right?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, it's all right," Seamus says, but his voice is a hoarse whisper. His cock is slowly hardening, though whether it's from the heat of the wax, the anticipation of what's to come, or just being on display for Dean and at his mercy, Seamus can't say. Probably all three.

Dean's hand is warm against the small of Seamus's back. He must have put the wax pot down now. "Avexi!" he says, flicking his wand, and the wax pulls itself off of Seamus's body, taking all the hair with it.

"Christ!" Seamus shouts, and he can't breathe for a moment because, fuck, that hurt, and not in the fun way. He drops his hands and cradles his head.

"Your skin's all red," Dean says.

"Ya think?" Seamus replies, annoyed, even though the sharp pain is fading into a sting now. He breathes in and out.

"Shhhh," Dean says, and then he's kissing Seamus's arse, running wet lips and tongue all over the reddened, abused skin.

Seamus grips the edge of the tub to stay still. "Sweetheart," he says, but can't manage more, because fuck, he thought he loved Dean's thick lips and broad tongue on his arse before but it was nothing compared to this, to there being nothing between them at all. The more Dean kisses him the more Seamus forgets how much it hurt.

"Feel good?" Dean asks.

"Too good," Seamus says. He's oversensitive, worked up, and could come like this but he doesn't want to, not this time. "C'mon, let's—I want you to fuck me." Dean sits up and Seamus turns around, and it must show on his face how much he needs Dean's cock, because Dean raises his eyebrows, nods.

Dean gets on his feet, then reaches down and picks Seamus up into his arms. Seamus wraps his legs around Dean's waist and Dean walks no further than the living room, lubing Seamus up with the charm as they go. Seamus can feel the air as it moves across his arse now, which makes him feel even more worked up.

Dean sits down on the couch, Seamus in his lap. "Figured you'd want to drive," he says, and even in his haze Seamus finds it unspeakably adorable the way that Muggle expressions haven't completely left Dean's vocabulary. "Take it at your own pace."

"Yeah, thanks," Seamus says, because he's not even sure how he wants it, just that he wants it, and that it's a good thing the proceedings have got Dean hard, his dark cock rising up from his body. Seamus puts his feet flat on the cushion on either side of Dean and positions that big cock under his hole. Even just having the tip of it rub against him feels new and different, like that first time years ago. He puts his hands on Dean's shoulders and eases himself down, eyes on Dean's all the time.

"So gorgeous, you are," Dean whispers, steading him with one big hand on his back.

When he gets all of Dean's cock inside him, and feels his coarse hair so scratchy on that sensitive skin, it's almost too much. Seamus wants to close his eyes for how he can feel every centimeter of Dean's cock penetrating him, but then he wouldn't be able to see Dean looking at him. His hands move to either side of Dean's face and their noses touch, not quite kissing but breathing each other's air.

"Oh god, not gonna last long," Seamus says, pulling up and then back down again, slowly at first and then a little faster. "Push me down and fuck me after I come?"

"Whatever you want, baby," Dean replies, still just staring at him, letting him do his thing.

"Sweetheart," Seamus says, riding Dean faster now, feeling Dean's cock sliding inside and how it rests against the skin outside, too. It's a lot, and then before he knows it there's white come dribbling all over Dean's dark skin.

"Fuck," Dean says, and then he's doing as he promised, flipping Seamus onto his back on the couch and pounding into his lax body fast and hard, knowing how much Seamus loves it when Dean fucks him after he's come, uses him to get off. Doesn't take him long, either.

"So you like it?" Seamus says, teasingly, one hand in Dean's hair.

"God, Seamus," Dean says. "When I can breathe again, I'm gonna lick all my come out of you."

Seamus runs a hand along Dean's stubbled cheek, and can't wait to feel those whiskers against his own newly smooth skin. But for now, Dean's blunt sort of dirty talk will do. "Tell me about it."