shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-03-01 01:17:00 |
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Costume - H/R - NC-17
Title: Costume
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 843
Rating: NC-17
A smutlet for my Harry/Ron claim at 50_smutlets.
Costume
****
The theory was that Harry was still instantly recognisable.
If he was alone in the pub, in the remote Welsh village that he couldn't even pronounce, then the Death Eater believed to be hiding in the area wouldn't be able to resist a little tormenting of the Chosen One.
Harry hated using his fame to get Quidditch tickets or tables in restaurants, and only sunk so low if Ron really pouted, but to exploit it to catch a Death Eater was a pleasure.
Of course, he wasn't actually alone.
The ancient shepherd nodding under his flat cap in the corner, his dog at his feet, was one of Tonks' smelliest disguises.
The slurring, drunken Irishman, trying to chat up a rather bored young lady, was hopefully Seamus acting rather well.
The petite blonde barmaid, with the plunging neckline, who was currently trying to teach him to say 'Myfanwy' while flirting outrageously with three men at the far end of the bar. Well, she had followed him into the gents and knelt at his feet and freed his cock with sharp taloned nails and sucked greedily on him with deep red lips, leaving lipstick marks as he buried his fingers in elaborately curled blonde hair and hissed "Ron, you are insane, you are supposed to be undercover."
"Hmmm," the girl hummed, her long nailed fingertips stroking him and finding out that his balls liked living dangerously. "It's all part of the act."
Harry snorted. "Is this how you treat all your customers?" he breathed, locking his knees and reaching for his climax.
The blonde looked up at him, stroking his cock just how he liked it. "Only the ones I'm gonna take to bed with me, tonight," she smiled. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
"Christ," Harry gasped, as he came, splattering across her pouty red lips.
A small pink tongue peeped out and licked them clean, as Harry groaned and leaned back against the wall, zipping himself up. "You shouldn't have done that," he complained weakly.
His tormentress just kissed him and slipped back into the bar.
Harry took off his glasses and splashed water on his face. He frowned into the mirror, trying to focus on his reflection or the case, rather than the taste of Ron's mouth, under the tastes of spunk and cherry lipstick.
When he returned to his bar stool, Myfanwy was blushing becomingly at something one of her other admirers were saying. She ran one long finger nail down his arm and Harry found himself grinding his teeth and desperate to punch the poor bloke.
He sighed.
It was all very well for the rest of the team.
Tonks got to smell and doze in the corner.
Seamus got to drink and chat up pretty girls.
Ron got to stroke straight young men, who would run screaming into the night if they realised they were oggling the breasts of a six foot three bloke.
While he, Harry, got to sit on a bar stool, and try and look like a vulnerable vanquisher of evil, and hope that the Death Eater was stupid enough to come in and confront him.
Ron giggled breathlessly and leant towards his conquest, giving him a good look at his cleavage.
Harry shook his head, confused by the adjectives involved, no matter the hormones.
"I'd never," Ron gasped, just as the door opened. "I'm a good girl, I am."
His admirers laughed, Tonks tipped back her cap, Seamus put down his drink and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up as someone behind him hissed "Potter".
It was all over swiftly; Tonks' dog leapt for the man's ankles while Harry turned and disarmed what turned out to be only a stumbling Gregory Goyle; Seamus raised his glass in a toast and Ron squealed and threw himself into the arms of his admirer, possibly getting too far into his role, although Harry could bet his right arm he'd claim he was protecting innocent Muggles.
With his body.
Harry marched Goyle outside, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, where Tonks took over and side-alonged him away to the Department's holding cells.
When Harry returned to the bar, Myfanwy sauntered over to him, hips swaying.
"Thanks for your help," Harry said.
Myfanwy gave a very familiar grin. "Oh, I reckon you were holding your own;it was only Goyle. I had to protect my customers."
Harry snorted. "So, d'you want to come up to my room?" he asked. "I have to pack my stuff, and then we can go."
"Don't you think I should wait until closing time?" she asked, winking down the bar at her other customers.
"D'you have to stay so far in character?" Harry whined.
The girl shrugged, leant across the bar and kissed him. "I reckon Myfanwy is a bit of a slut," she whispered.
"Based on what?" Harry asked, kissing him back, even if he was a girl.
"Her Polyjuice tasted like come," Ron said, smiling against his lips as her admirer stood up and stalked over to them.
My Table.
Title: Costume
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 843
Rating: NC-17
A smutlet for my Harry/Ron claim at 50_smutlets.
Costume
****
The theory was that Harry was still instantly recognisable.
If he was alone in the pub, in the remote Welsh village that he couldn't even pronounce, then the Death Eater believed to be hiding in the area wouldn't be able to resist a little tormenting of the Chosen One.
Harry hated using his fame to get Quidditch tickets or tables in restaurants, and only sunk so low if Ron really pouted, but to exploit it to catch a Death Eater was a pleasure.
Of course, he wasn't actually alone.
The ancient shepherd nodding under his flat cap in the corner, his dog at his feet, was one of Tonks' smelliest disguises.
The slurring, drunken Irishman, trying to chat up a rather bored young lady, was hopefully Seamus acting rather well.
The petite blonde barmaid, with the plunging neckline, who was currently trying to teach him to say 'Myfanwy' while flirting outrageously with three men at the far end of the bar. Well, she had followed him into the gents and knelt at his feet and freed his cock with sharp taloned nails and sucked greedily on him with deep red lips, leaving lipstick marks as he buried his fingers in elaborately curled blonde hair and hissed "Ron, you are insane, you are supposed to be undercover."
"Hmmm," the girl hummed, her long nailed fingertips stroking him and finding out that his balls liked living dangerously. "It's all part of the act."
Harry snorted. "Is this how you treat all your customers?" he breathed, locking his knees and reaching for his climax.
The blonde looked up at him, stroking his cock just how he liked it. "Only the ones I'm gonna take to bed with me, tonight," she smiled. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
"Christ," Harry gasped, as he came, splattering across her pouty red lips.
A small pink tongue peeped out and licked them clean, as Harry groaned and leaned back against the wall, zipping himself up. "You shouldn't have done that," he complained weakly.
His tormentress just kissed him and slipped back into the bar.
Harry took off his glasses and splashed water on his face. He frowned into the mirror, trying to focus on his reflection or the case, rather than the taste of Ron's mouth, under the tastes of spunk and cherry lipstick.
When he returned to his bar stool, Myfanwy was blushing becomingly at something one of her other admirers were saying. She ran one long finger nail down his arm and Harry found himself grinding his teeth and desperate to punch the poor bloke.
He sighed.
It was all very well for the rest of the team.
Tonks got to smell and doze in the corner.
Seamus got to drink and chat up pretty girls.
Ron got to stroke straight young men, who would run screaming into the night if they realised they were oggling the breasts of a six foot three bloke.
While he, Harry, got to sit on a bar stool, and try and look like a vulnerable vanquisher of evil, and hope that the Death Eater was stupid enough to come in and confront him.
Ron giggled breathlessly and leant towards his conquest, giving him a good look at his cleavage.
Harry shook his head, confused by the adjectives involved, no matter the hormones.
"I'd never," Ron gasped, just as the door opened. "I'm a good girl, I am."
His admirers laughed, Tonks tipped back her cap, Seamus put down his drink and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up as someone behind him hissed "Potter".
It was all over swiftly; Tonks' dog leapt for the man's ankles while Harry turned and disarmed what turned out to be only a stumbling Gregory Goyle; Seamus raised his glass in a toast and Ron squealed and threw himself into the arms of his admirer, possibly getting too far into his role, although Harry could bet his right arm he'd claim he was protecting innocent Muggles.
With his body.
Harry marched Goyle outside, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, where Tonks took over and side-alonged him away to the Department's holding cells.
When Harry returned to the bar, Myfanwy sauntered over to him, hips swaying.
"Thanks for your help," Harry said.
Myfanwy gave a very familiar grin. "Oh, I reckon you were holding your own;it was only Goyle. I had to protect my customers."
Harry snorted. "So, d'you want to come up to my room?" he asked. "I have to pack my stuff, and then we can go."
"Don't you think I should wait until closing time?" she asked, winking down the bar at her other customers.
"D'you have to stay so far in character?" Harry whined.
The girl shrugged, leant across the bar and kissed him. "I reckon Myfanwy is a bit of a slut," she whispered.
"Based on what?" Harry asked, kissing him back, even if he was a girl.
"Her Polyjuice tasted like come," Ron said, smiling against his lips as her admirer stood up and stalked over to them.
My Table.