title: Don't Even Know Your Name
pairing: Seamus/Blaise
rating: nc17
wordcount: 1882
warnings: crossdressing, (sort of) forced homosexuality
summary: Seamus likes to go to the pub and pick up women. One night he makes a mistake; except Gryffindors don't make mistakes.
author's notes: this is for my OTP cracking challenge, in which i take an OTP of mine (Seamus/Ron) and write them with other characters.


Seamus' downfall has always been wanting things too orderly. It's not a thought process benefiting of a Gryffindor, but he can't help it. He wants his rights right; God has a plan. He wants his wrongs wrong; Malfoy is a Death Eater, Death Eaters are bad. Right and wrong should be obvious, and truths self evident. As ungryffindorlike as it might be, he wants his rules upheld, his bets paid and his ideas firmly planted. All in all, he's a boring but steadfast guy.

Where Gryffindor does come in is where he follows the rules of strip poker, streaks as per conditions of losing the bet with Cormac, and holds his convictions against Harry for six months. Seamus has been known to do completely ridiculous things just because he won't break his own rules of following through. Tonight is no different.

It starts off well, as most things that get out of control do. He and Dean and Neville are out dancing, sans Harry and Ron. Not only do the two suck at dancing, they're also in relationships and these nights are all about pulling. Dean snags a pretty redhead that swears she isn't any way related to Weasleys, which is important. After stints with Ginny and Charlie, Dean had sworn off the whole clan. Neville is still looking, but the night is young and Seamus has hope that he'll find a sweet woman to shag.

As for Seamus, he's lucky enough to have a drop dead gorgeous woman against him. It's more a clothed mimicry of sex than dancing, but he's not complaining. She's black with a long elegant face and flawless skin. The short clingy dress reveals small breasts but a great arse and legs. Her hair is shorn close to her scalp in a way that would look weird on a Caucasian girl but looks great on her.

Her most important quality is that she seems to want to have sex with him. After a long period of dancing Seamus is about to ask her if she wants to go for drinks somewhere more quiet, she interrupts by saying she's sick of beating around the bush and does he want to go to her flat with her. In Seamus' mind it's not really a question. He waves down Neville and gives the hand signal that means he's busy for the rest of the night, then leans into her as she side-along apparates them.

He barely has time to see where the couch is before she's pushing him against a wall and unbuttoning his jeans. As she crouches she teeters a bit on her high heeled shoes, and Seamus wonders why people go to the lengths they do to feel sexy. All Seamus needs to do is put a bit of deodorant on and he's confident. He's distracted from all thoughts of self esteem issues when the woman grabs onto his arse to steady herself. Moments later her lips glide over his cock, slick and smooth with lip gloss, and her fingers clench on his cheeks to draw him closer.

She gives a good blow, though there's no such thing as a bad one, really. He comes quickly, it's been awhile since his last time with a woman and he's far too sensitive. He's not worried though, he'll get hard again soon enough. She seems to agree with his goal, her mouth stays on him and continues to suck as he get harder. She seems willing to blow him a second time, but Seamus wants to fuck, wants to feel a woman squeezing like a velvet vise around him. Normally he'd tug on the woman's hair, but this one has none, at least nothing long enough to grip. So he's reduced to repeating "Stop, oi, stop" until she actually, finally listens.

"What?"

"I wanna shag. Can we do it here, or have you a roommate?"

"I don't have a roommate, but..."

"But what?" he wonders if it's a protection thing. Muggle women worry about that a lot more than witches do, but seeing as she was the one to apparate him, it shouldn't be an issue.

"I really don't think you want to, Finnegan."

His first thought is to wonder how she knows his last name, when he doesn't even remember giving her his first. But there are only so many witches in England, and there's a good chance she knows him from Hogwarts. Seamus puts it out of his mind and goes back to the important matter, getting her comfortable with shagging. He'd never consider force, but if a fancy phrase or two convinces her he's not above trying.

"Sweetheart, you don't know me as well as you think. I'd love to bed someone as beautiful as yourself." Okay, so wordsmith he is not.

The woman capitulates though, and Seamus watches eagerly as she twists to undo the zipper. Watching someone get undressed is about the most foreplay Seamus has, but that much he loves. She curls her fingers lightly around the opposing strap and slides them both down her arms.

And that's when the first shock of the night hits. The woman has no breasts, just air pockets. It must be some sort of spell. Before he has any chance to acclimatize himself to that, the dress drops to the floor. The woman has a penis.

"Holy crap!" Again, not the most elegant of phrasing. Still, he can't really be arsed to be polite, not when the woman he pulled is a man. An aroused man, and how the fuck did he not notice that whilst dancing?

"I told you you didn't want to fuck, Finnegan. Now wouldn't it have been better to just let me suck you off?" and now he's not talking in a higher pitch, and Seamus fucking recognises the voice.

"Christ. Slytherin. Of course."

"I didn't do this because I'm a Slytherin, you stupid bastard."

As his erection wanes his mind starts to come back. "Is this one of those trying too hard to feel sexy things?"

"It's not trying too hard when it's the only way you can get off. I like my orgasms as much as you do. Stupid Gryffindor."

And that's when Seamus' morals come into play. On one hand, Blaise is a bloke, and Seamus is straight. Blaise is also a Slytherin, and the few honest sentences they've had prove he's still a prat. On the other hand, Blaise made him come and it doesn't seem fair to not do the same. It doesn't matter that he's a prat, Seamus gambles with Cormac all the time, who's the most aggravating bloke he knows. And even if it freaks him out that Blaise is a man, Dean has survived sex with a bloke. Dean liked it, and Seamus trusts his judgment.

"So, should I suck you off?"

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

"Doesn't it seem fair?"

"Fair? Good lord, you really are a Gryffindor. Well, since you're not running away screaming, I'd actually rather a fuck. If you think you can stay hard."

Blaise probably doesn't mean it that way, but to Seamus it sounds like a challenge. "Fucking right I will." hand wrapped around his cock he starts stroking himself back to hardness, adamant that Blaise will get off if it's the last thing he does. He sees Blaise take out his wand and he's smart enough to realise gay guys need spells straight guys don't, and he looks away. Seeing Blaise prepare himself isn't going to help his erection.

Blaise leans against the wall and Seamus knows the position he wants so he moves in close. It seems like the kind of thing that should be happening in a bed, but conversation doesn't seem to be an integral part of their meeting so Seamus isn't going to argue it. Instead he holds braces his hands against the wall and holds his breath as Blaise hovers over his cock. It's sink or swim time, either he'll stay hard or he'll fail miserably.

The moment Blaise lets his weight fall, Seamus realises Dean was right. When Blaise impales himself the grunt he makes is the same as any noise a woman Seamus beds does, the same as any noise he might make. The feel of his cock surrounded by warm wet flesh is the same as with any other partner. Man or woman, it doesn't really matter, he's still getting off.

"Come on, Finnegan," Blaise grunts, and those words spur him onto his half of the action, pushing up in the smoothest rhythm he has. His eyes close, concentration warring with the pleasure that's slowly eating his brain. When he opens them again Blaise pointedly looks from Seamus' face to his own cock. Seamus swallows, not sure that's a line he's willing to cross. "Right, should have known."

It's the tone that gets him, like Blaise hates him for being so pathetic, and yet hidden behind that is a bit of disappointment. It doesn't sit well with Seamus, it goes against his moral code. So he takes a deep breath and leans more heavily against his left hand so he can move his right between them. It's the only choice, really.

The angle is completely wrong, and his hand keeps stalling as his focus is mostly on his thrusting, but Blaise doesn't make any blistering comments, so Seamus considers himself good enough. After a time Blaise's fingers dig into his back and all of a sudden Seamus has another man's come on his chest. It's disappointing how seeing the splatter kills all the built up pleasure.

"I'm not going to get you off a second time, am I?" It's matter of fact, Blaise already knows the answer. Still, Seamus feels like a shit when he shakes his head. Blaise uncurls his leg from Seamus' hip and once Blaise is on his feet Seamus is able to take a few steps back.

What he's never talked about with Dean or Neville is how sometimes after pulling he feels like a bastard. There's just something about searching for your scattered clothes on an unfamiliar carpet that brings up the nausea. It's never enough to stop him from going out with the guys the next time they want to, of course. A man has needs. The feeling has never been as strong as tonight; like the night would have been so much better had he just gone home alone. It's just about the worst way to find out you're homophobic.

And somehow Blaise can read that in his face. "Don't be an idiot, Finnegan. You're the first man that didn't flee in horror, or try to hurt me. Don't be such a damned Gryffindor about not finishing."

It's not the words that make Seamus feel better, but the surge of rage he gets at the idea of someone trying to beat up Blaise because his interests are different. If he can still be indignant on behalf of the homosexual, then he must not really be homophobic. "Tell me you didn't let them get away with that."

"Do I look like the type to let people treat me poorly?"

Seamus takes in the light makeup covering Blaise's face, the high heels he wore throughout the fuck, the short dress on the floor. "Can't say you do."