Seamus Finnigan was a horny bastard.

In addition to having been told this on numerous occasions, Seamus rather agreed with the assessment himself. He hadn't always been this way, of course, but it hadn't been so much a gradual transition as a moment of realization. As far he could tell, one day he had been a normal boy concerned with normal things: Quidditch, staying awake in History of Magic, keeping his eyebrows intact, and whatever everyone was meant to think about Harry Potter that week. Then one day he had been sitting in the common room watching Dean nibbling on a sugar quill and he'd found himself with a massive erection.

"Would you mind giving me a blow job, mate?"

Dean had stopped abruptly, raising one eyebrow. "I know you did not just ask me for a sexual favor in that tone."

"What tone? I didn't have a tone."

"You had a tone. Like you're asking me to pass you the butter at dinner."

Seamus had struggled to banish all thoughts of using butter as lubrication from his head, but he hadn't altogether succeeded. "Tone aside, yes or no?"

Dean had jerked his thumb in the direction of the stairs, effectively crushing all of Seamus's hopes in one tiny gesture. "Take care of it yourself."

Seamus had then indeed gone upstairs to take Dean up on his suggestion. Luckily, he'd run into Lavender Brown waiting for Ron. She'd taken one look at the size of the bulge and practically torn his trousers off. All in all, it had been a satisfying venture for everyone.

Except perhaps for Ron.

However, the greatest proof that he was indeed a horny bastard came towards the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts. He had just finished a very satisfying excursion with Blaise Zabini – an excursion he did his best not to enjoy overmuch because Zabini was still a Slytherin, after all. Sneaking back into Gryffindor Tower turned out to be something of a chore. He may have been obsessed with sex, but he did not want to have to even consider offering Filch sexual favors in order to get out of detention. Still, a few deft maneuvers allowed him to avoid Filch and his lousy cat.

He waved to the scattered students still hanging about the Common Room and then ascended the stairs, fully prepared to throw himself into bed and dreams of feathers, leather, and ball gags.

This had been the plan, but it fell by the wayside almost instantaneously when he strolled into his room. The first thing that caught his attention was that while he heard Dean's quiet breathing and Neville's wheezing, he did not hear Ron mumbling in his sleep or Harry screaming from his latest set of nightmares. Normally, Seamus might have assumed that the two were off with Hermione either saving the world or doing the London Bridge. But a quick glance around the room showed that while Harry's bed was unoccupied, Ron's was decidedly not. And the curtains appeared to be moving.

The situation, Seamus decided with a lazy grin, was clear.

Seamus sauntered over to Ron's bed, loosening his haphazardly tied tie and rolling up one of the sleeves of his cotton shirt. He nearly performed the same action with the other sleeve, but he decided against it. After all, he knew he looked damn good when he did it, and it would be a shame to waste it with no one to appreciate the view. He checked in the mirror to make sure his hair was appropriately tousled and then slid open the curtains to Ron's bed with fastidious swiftness.

Seamus took one look at his mates and his cock stood at attention like Her Majesty's soldiers.

Ron's wrists were secured to the bed with one red and gold necktie, limbs crossed in a matter that seemed delicately, deliciously painful. Another tie wound around his eyes – probably his own considering the fraying around the edges. His mouth hung open, panting breath quietly hissing in and out, his tongue darting out to wet his bruised looking lips. His pale legs, freckled and covered in curling hair the color of a distant sunset, clung to Harry's shoulders and crossed at the ankle. And Harry pushed into him with what Seamus knew from a few surreptitious glances was a magnificent cock. Messy black hair clung to his wet forehead, and his glasses were gloriously askew.

But what really made Seamus hard were those eyes. Seamus had always heard girls whispering about them in the halls, and Seamus had never really gotten the point. Harry had a tendency to look distracted most of the time. But Seamus knew this was different. These were the eyes Harry had in Quidditch. These were the eyes that had faced down the Dark Lord. These were the eyes Harry Potter had when he fucked – all emerald fire and startling intensity so fierce it could scorch flesh. Now Seamus understood the attraction. He understood it and Harry, and he wanted to devour his mate, Chosen One or not.

Unfortunately, the effect was more or less ruined when Harry paused mid-thrust and turned to Seamus. His eyes were now panicked and full of embarrassment. This bored Seamus considerably; he'd seen that look plenty of times in Potions.

Seamus arched one eyebrow – a gesture he employed almost incessantly now that he'd finally found the right bloody muscle – and then took the time to languidly roll up his other sleeve. Judging by the way Harry's Adam's apple bobbed when he gulped, it had the desired effect. Seamus chuckled and then jerked his thumb, bidding Harry to move away from the bed for a little chat.

"Err..." Harry mumbled, eyes darting anxiously between Seamus and Ron.

"What is it?" Ron hissed, fidgeting against Harry's cock still imbedded within him. "I feel a draft." His ears turned colors and his voice jumped up at least one octave. "Is someone there? Because Harry, if someone's there, Herm—I mean, Lavender—will kill me."

Harry glanced over at Seamus a bit helplessly, gesturing to Ron's hands tied to the bed.

Seamus dropping his exceedingly seductive post in exasperation. He rolled his eyes and mouthed, "He's not going anywhere." Then he jerked his thumb again and turned, reasonably sure Harry would follow.

He did, eventually. The bed creaked, the sheets rustled, and Harry and Ron had a whispered, hurried tiff about Harry leaving Ron tied to the bed. Harry made a very poor excuse by saying he was going to see about the draft. Then he clambered over to Seamus, attempting to cover his erection out of modesty. It took both hands.

"Err, look, Seamus," Harry began, brimming with awkwardness that reminded Seamus of why he'd never bothered with the saviour of the wizarding world before this. "I know what this looks like, but—"

"I'm sorry, are you are actually going to attempt to suggest that you were not just buggering your best mate?" Seamus interrupted. "Honestly, you lose a few eyebrows when you're twelve, and everyone thinks you're thick."

Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's not quite what I... I just was going to ask if you could please not tell Lavender about this for Ron's sake." He paused. "Or Hermione. Same reason."

Seamus shrugged nonchalantly, taking his time in responding. After all, there wasn't much blood above his shoulders and banishing the image of Lavender greedily ripping his trousers off earlier that year took considerable energy. "Wasn't my intention."

Harry practically collapsed in relief. He started to gesture, then remembered his nudity and hastily covered himself again. "Thank you. Thanks so much. I do not want to think of how many bruises I'd have from—"

Seamus tired quickly of the conversation. Actually, he tired quickly of most conversation, and he employed his favorite method of shutting someone up. He took Harry by the shoulders, pushed him up against the wall, and then shoved his mouth onto Harry's. The other boy was too shocked to respond, but Seamus certainly felt a reaction when he took the liberty of grasping Harry's cock.

Harry jerked his head back and glared down at the appendage with some annoyance. Then he turned his gaze back to Seamus, the craved intensity a faint glimmer among the green. "Ah."

"Yes," Seamus agreed, casually pushing his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Well then," Harry mused. "That's... Huh."

"Surprised you didn't—"

"Hermione says I'm very distracted."

"I'd call it oblivious, actually."

"There's that," Harry agreed amiably. He leaned his head to one side. "So does that mean you're... you know..."

"According to Dean, I'd fuck anything with a heartbeat." He frowned. "He made very nasty insinuations about Mrs. Norris and coma patients, but I'd prefer not to discuss it."

"I wonder why," Harry deadpanned, grinning. His eyes slid over to Ron's bed, where they could hear the redhead muttering darkly to himself. "I should really get back to—"

"I'm happy to join in," Seamus informed him. "In a minute."

Harry blinked as if this thought had not occurred to him. This more or less confirmed Seamus's use of the word 'oblivious.' "Oh. You'd... Oh. Well, I'm not sure about Ron."

Seamus knew his eyes glittered in a way that probably rivaled Colin Creevey's, and he didn't care. "Let's not tell him!"

Now Harry frowned at him, serious and stern. Seamus was a bit turned on, but he didn't fancy himself a submissive. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

Seamus was undeterred. After all, Blaise Zabini had once told him that he'd sooner let a cactus go up his arse before Seamus's cock, but he'd changed his tune soon enough. Seamus was used to the art of persuasion, and he knew exactly how to get what he wanted. He leaned forward into Harry's ear and whispered in the sexiest Irish brogue he had in his arsenal. "I'll go down on you if you let me fuck him." The he bit – not nibbled, but bit – Harry's earlobe.

He felt Harry's erection twitch against his thigh, and he knew that this would be a very easy battle to win. It occurred to him that if Voldemort were better looking, he'd probably have a very easy way of winning the war.

He moved his mouth from Harry's ear and concentrated on the neck. He used lips and tongue and teeth, marking Harry and razing the skin. Within moments, Harry's quick and quiet breaths surrounded them, drowning out the sounds of sleep and Ron's impatience, closing them away from the rest of the world. His hands worn rough from his broomstick ran up Seamus's forearms, thumbs making tiny circles against the elbows.

Then his shirt was torn open and buttons flew everywhere. That was when Seamus knew his victory was assured.

Harry pulled Seamus's face back towards his own, and then they kissed. Dean was quite right in saying that Seamus didn't really have a preference as far as gender went (they often joked he believed in equal opportunity fucking), but Seamus had to admit, he did prefer boys to girls in terms of kissing. Too many girls – or at least the ones he had experience with – had a tendency to fold up and give in. They were softness and tiny sighs. There wasn't anything wrong with that, but sometimes Seamus wanted to kiss like it was a struggle. Boys provided that, and Harry offered it in spades.

Harry's lips moved against his own with force and strength that made Seamus's knees give a little, but neither one of them were the type to give in and they certainly weren't soft. The kiss was rough and harsh. Harry's stubble rubbed against his chin and his teeth sometimes sank into Seamus's bottom lips. But best of all, neither of them gave little sighs – they groaned, hushed for obvious reasons, but full bodied and deep.

Harry shoved Seamus's Oxford shirt away from his arms and it fluttered to the ground, a silent witness to their transgressions. The kiss continued until Seamus peeked through his lashes to see Harry's face. His eyes were closed, and Seamus couldn't stand it. He wanted to see that fierce strength again, and he would do almost anything to get it.

He pulled away, and judging by the growl Harry gave, nearly got thumped for it. Then he pulled his tie off, slung it over Harry's shoulder, and whispered, "Keep your eyes open."

Then he dropped to his knees and gave Harry absolutely no warning before he wrapped his lips around the end of Harry's cock. Harry moaned, too loudly for the circumstances, and quickly went for the tie. He put it in his mouth like a gag and bit down on it, hard. Seamus knew he'd never be able to wear it again, but he was quite sure he would find several other uses for it in the future.

He licked the head, ran his tongue along the vein, and fondled the balls all without taking his eyes away from Harry's face. Any time those eyes threatened to drift closed, Seamus pulled away and bit Harry's thighs, leaving angry red marks along the bronzed skin. They still weren't where Seamus wanted them to be, needed them to be, but they grew closer with every stroke and every twist of the tongue.

Finally, Seamus took all of Harry into his mouth (which was no small feat) and swallowed.

Harry groaned and dug his teeth into the tie. Then his hips bucked and he came in Seamus's mouth. Seamus was no great fan of semen, but he endured it for Harry's flushed cheeks, Harry's gnashing teeth, and Harry's eyes. If Seamus hadn't had so much self-control, he worried he might have come right there, just staring up at those eyes.

A moment later, Seamus got to his feet and casually began to move over to Ron's bed, working at his belt on the way. A hand on his shoulder brought him to a halt.

"Wait," Harry insisted, hissing. "You mean you were serious about—"

"I am always serious about—"

"But you can't just—"

"We had a deal," Seamus reminded him. "Besides, he'll enjoy himself."

With that, he dropped his trousers. He was not wearing pants.

Harry raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "Yes, I suppose he will."

Seamus grinned and then finished walking over the bed.

Ron let out a sigh of relief once he felt Seamus's added weight settle on to the mattress. "Finally! I was beginning to think you'd decided to leave me as a joke. Sort of thing Fred and George would do." He paused, and then realized what he'd said. "Not that I'd be... you know, because that's bloody disgusting, but growing up with them's made me a right bit pessimis-tic!"

Throughout this rambling monologue, Seamus had positioned himself and Ron. He put Ron's legs on his shoulders and settled himself into the depressions where Harry's knees had been a few minutes before. Then, just in time for that crucial final syllable, Seamus thrust.

Ron very nearly yelped, but he caught himself just before it would have gotten embarrassing. He laughed, his eyes widening beneath the makeshift blindfold. "So that's where you were. Engorgement charm. Could have warned me, mate."

Seamus smiled impossibly wide. He couldn't wait to tell Dean he was hung better than the Chosen One.

"Don't look so bloody pleased with yourself," Harry growled in his ear as he gently sat on the bed at Seamus's left.

Seamus shook his head tragically. "Don't think I can. Guess you'll have to find a better way to shut me up."

Harry smirked – and Seamus found he rather liked that expression as well – and then the kiss that was a struggle began again.

Seamus continued to crane his neck over Ron's thin calves as he pushed into the redhead. Ron panted and moaned, his fingers digging into his palms. Harry moaned into Seamus's mouth, and Seamus saw that he was working out a brand new erection, his hand moving quickly in an attempt to get it over with quickly no doubt. And Seamus felt his own climax building with each thrust, pushing himself inside Ron with rising frenzy.

Ron banged his head against the headboard in frustration. "Come on... Waited so long..."

Seamus was more than happy to oblige. He turned away from Harry to focus solely on Ron, thrusting faster and harder. He hissed when Harry buried his teeth in his shoulder, but it was drowned out almost entirely by Ron's groan. The three of them moved together, climaxes building. Ron pulled at his binding, Harry grasped Seamus's buttocks, and Seamus pushed into Ron one last time.

Then they all broke, nearly all at once. They tensed and came, shaking and twitching. Then all three of them slumped forward, breathing heavily, physically drained.

Seamus locked Ron's open mouth and rough sounds into his mind, placing them right next to Harry's teeth and Harry's eyes. He wasn't sure he'd ever looked at either of them more than once (or certainly not more than twice). Now he couldn't imagine why he'd deprived himself of this glorious tryst for so long.

But again, the glory was short-lived as someone cleared their throats.

Harry, Seamus, and the still blind Ron turned their heads toward the open curtain. There, they, or at least two-thirds of them, saw both Dean and Neville, wide awake and quite unamused. Dean was glaring directly at Seamus, no doubt assuming that he was responsible for this, while Neville shoved a tissue up his nostril. In the light coming from their wands – which he somehow hadn't noticed before now – he could see it was bloody.

"You might have used a silencing a silencing charm," Neville chided.

"Yes, that would have been nice," Dean agreed.

Harry hissed, muttering, "Knew I forgot something."

"Don't tell Herm—I mean Lavender!" Ron begged loudly. "Or Hermione for that matter. Actually, if you could not tell anyone that would be great." He paused. "Is Seamus there as well?"

Dean's glare worsened. "You didn't tell him."

Seamus laughed, shrinking back a bit from Dean's gaze. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Ron's ears began to turn colors again. "Did that voice come from where I thought it came from?" They darkened. "Get this tie off me. Right now."

Dean obliged with a flick of his wand, still glaring at Seamus. Seamus glanced at Ron out of the corner of his eyes and watched as his ears turned a color not normally found in nature.

"Seamus buggered me?!" he shouted. He turned and scowled at Harry, positively seething. "How could you let this happen?"

Harry fumbled with his glasses, entirely unprepared for this. "Well, I... He was very convincing..."

"You blew him, didn't you?" Dean asked.

"Again, seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How are you not diseased?" Neville asked, amazed.

"He probably is diseased," Ron lamented, banging his head against the headboard again. "Merlin only knows where that thing has been."

"I know," Seamus snapped with some dignity. "And I am not diseased. Madame Pomfrey and I have a standing appointment."

"You don't want to hear about how that got arranged," Dean warned them.

Ron now looked a bit green. "Oh, God!"

"I really think everyone's overreacting quite a bit," Seamus said. "I mean, you enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"

Ron simply continued glaring as Harry untied his bonds. "Not. The. Point."

For some reason, Seamus turned to Dean, silently appealing for help. It became quite clear instantly that he was not going to receive it. And unfortunately, his powers of seductive persuasion had no affect on Dean.

He'd tried. Many times.

Many, many, many times.

"Gryffinwhore," Dean muttered with feeling. Then he turned and retreated to bed, leading Neville and his bloody nose along.

Seamus leaned against the headboard next to Ron and his still bulging eyes, stroking his chin and the beard he sometimes imagined he could grow there. "Gryffinwhore... You know, I know he meant to demean me, but I think I like it. Suits me."

"I'll get it monogrammed on a towel for your birthday," Harry joked, reaching for his trousers.

"Could you get off my bed now?" Ron growled.

Seamus grinned roguishly. "Not unless you call me Gryffinwhore."

Ron did, and so Seamus agreed to move. It was too bad he didn't lean away faster. He might have avoided the black eye that way. But once it stopped hurting, he wore it like a badge of honor.

Proof that he was Seamus Finnigan, horny bastard and resident Gryffinwhore.