Wet - H/R - NC-17
Title: Wet
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1000
Rating: NC-17

Written for the incredible cork, whose Harry/Ron and even Ron/Malfoy makes the world a much better place!

I think it must be 50_smutlets Harry and Ron, so I will have to add them to my table!

Happy birthday, my cock-frotting angel!


Wet
****
“My cock is wet,” Ron hissed.

Harry turned an incredulous face to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Will you shut up!” he whispered. “That is not how I want to die.”

“I don’t see how my cock could kill you, wet or dry,” Ron whispered back. “What sort of prophecy states ‘either must die at the hands of Ron Weasley’s cock for neither can live while Ron’s cock is wet’?”

Harry glared at him.

“Ron,” he murmured. “We are lying in a ditch, spying on an inn where Death Eaters are meeting. If we are noticed and captured because they overhear you muttering about your wet cock, I will kill you myself. And with my bare hands, not my bare cock.”

“The wet ditch implies the wet cock,” Ron whispered. “I’m lying in four inches of water.”

“How can you tell?” Harry snapped. “Your cock isn’t long enough to reach the bottom!”

“Not when it’s cold and wet, it isn’t!”

“I’m cold and wet, too,” Harry whispered. “D’you hear me complaining?”

“You could cast a Drying Charm on me,” Ron suggested.

“‘Oh, Harry,’ Tonks’ll say. ‘You were captured and tortured, and poor Ron was killed. Why did you do Magic? I warned you not to!’ and I’ll say, ‘I did a Drying Charm to dry out Ron’s cock, and you were right, that triggered a trap, and we were captured, and I had to kill Ron myself’.”

Ron pouted and settled back, lower in the mud.

“I just thought you cared about the state of my cock, that’s all,” he murmured.

“Well, I don’t,” Harry said.

“You cared about it yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did,” Ron protested quietly. “You were frotting against me like a madman.”

“Shut up.”

“Won’t,” Ron whispered. “I’d hardly walked through the door before I was pressed up against it and you’d unzipped me and pressed Little Harry up against me and you were thrusting and groaning like someone had cast a Twitching Hex on you.”

“OK, look, firstly, we are on a mission, and this can wait, secondly, I am gonna cast a Frotting Hex on you, next time we’re at the Burrow for lunch, and thirdly, stop calling it Little Harry.”

“Your mouth sealed to my throat, your tongue thrusting against me every time you drove your cock against mine, your hand wrapped round both our shafts, tugging my climax out of me.”

“Are you clinically insane?” Harry demanded, adjusting his wet trousers around a swelling erection. “Now I’m lying here, in a ditch, with a hard-on.”

“I thought you don’t care about my cock?” Ron asked. “Why would me mentioning the frotting turn you on?”

“Mentioning?” Harry hissed. “You lie there and describe something like that and you don’t expect to make me hard?”

Harry stuck a hand in the mud and groped around, under Ron’s body, until he found Ron’s own, rock hard erection.

“Hah!” he said. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

“I never said my cock wasn’t awake,” Ron protested, thrusting into Harry’s hand, which, inexplicable, he hadn’t removed. “I just said it was cold and wet.”

“Ron,” Harry moaned. “Fifty Death Eaters could burst out of that inn at any moment, why am I wanking you in a ditch?”

“A very good question,” a deep voice said, and they looked round to see Kingsley’s feet right in front of them, on the edge of the ditch.

They looked up.

He had his arms folded and a hard look on his face.

“False alarm,” he said. “No Death Eater activity. Clean yourselves up and meet me in my office in thirty minutes.”

He Dissaparated with a slight pop and Harry turned to gawp at Ron.

“We’re dead,” he said.

“And yet our cocks don’t seem to have realised this,” Ron murmured, moving closer and rolling Harry over, in the mud. “Unless Rigor Mortis has already set in.”

“No way,” Harry snapped, flinching as Ron unzipped their trousers and freed their cold, wet, but undeniably interested cocks and stroked them with a slick, muddy hand. “I’m not fucking in the mud.”

“Since when were you this fussy?” Ron asked, thrusting into the circle of his fingers and sliding their cocks against each other.

“Since we’re expected back at work, clean and penitent!”

Ron sighed and tightened his grip; closing his eyes, he side-alonged Harry to their bathroom.

“Ron,” Harry said, trying to frown as Ron stripped them both and turned on the shower. “We don’t have time to…”

“You’re probably right,” Ron said, pulling him under the water. “It’ll save time if we shower together.”

Harry gave up.

He couldn’t really complain as Ron reached round him, cupping his arse and drawing him closer; he returned the favour and felt Ron brace his legs as Harry ground against him, their cocks sliding deliciously against each other in the water that streamed over them.

They kissed desperately, water running in and out of their open mouths.

Ron thrust harder and Harry tipped his head back, eyes closing under the spray as he whimpered and came over Ron’s fingers.

“Good boy,” Ron murmured, taking a step forward and pressing Harry against the tiled wall.

Harry laughed, breathlessly, the air being squeezed out of him as Ron ground harder and harder against him. He held Ron’s arse, moaning at the feeling of the muscles flexing under his fingers.

“Gorgeous,” he muttered, sliding one hand between his cheeks, a fingertip circling Ron’s entrance as his rhythm faltered and he came between their bodies.

Ron dropped his head on Harry’s shoulder, breathing hard.

“Brilliant,” he murmured, clenching his cheeks around Harry’s still probing fingers.

“You have your moments,” Harry admitted. “But we should dry off and get to work.”

“Hmmm,” Ron sighed, taking a step back and shaking the water out of his hair.

They looked down at their wilting erections.

Ron ran his fingers through his come and stroked it on his shaft.

“Hey, Harry, my cock is wet,” he said, with a lopsided smile.