shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-03-01 01:03:00 |
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Love - H/R - NC-17
Title: Love
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 407
Rating: NC-17
A smutlet for my Harry/Ron claim at 50_smutlets.
Love
****
When Harry had first realised he fancied blokes, he had tried very hard not to fancy Ron.
The one thing he could not afford to do, was to offend Ron, lose Ron.
It was almost impossible for the Chosen One to pick up men in pubs, to get the hang of things, and he had been thrilled to discover that Seamus was only to happy to be experimented with.
The mouthy Irishman was the least shy person Harry had ever met, and he'd gleefully described and attempted any number of things that were beyond Harry's wildest dreams.
And Harry had proved to himself that, yes, he fancied blokes.
He fancied strong thighs and tight arses and hot, heavy cocks.
He knew that, for the rest of his life, he wanted to lie beneath a strong, beautiful man, whose arms trembled as he surged and thrust into him.
The only problem was, he also knew who he wanted that man to be.
He'd enjoyed a laugh with Seamus, but it hadn't lasted.
And there was really only one man he could be that vulnerable with.
Only one man he could love.
The one man he must never make a pass at.
But then, for the only time in his entire, stupid life, the fates smiled on him.
A drunken, miserable Ron had arrived at his flat and confessed his deepest, darkest secret.
The reason he had split up with Hermione wasn't just some guff about wanting different things.
Because, really, they'd wanted the same thing.
A tall, dark, gorgeous boyfriend, with a Quidditch player's thigh muscles and Seeker's hands.
So, Hermione had moved to Bulgaria, and Ron had clumsily grabbed Harry by the shoulders and drunkenly kissed him and passed out in his lap.
Harry had put him to bed and kissed him on the forehead and he'd never left.
Which brought them to today.
To their bed, in their flat.
Where a contrite Ron was making up for diving for cover and leaving Harry exposed to Tonks' amused gaze.
Where Harry had already come twice and was shaking and running his hands down Ron's back as he arched beneath him, his legs spread wide while Ron gasped and thrust, his cock hot and hard and stretching Harry until the world narrowed to the beloved face above him and the tall slender body surging over his.
"Love you," he whispered against Ron's lips.
"'Course you do," Ron smiled.
My Table.
Title: Love
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 407
Rating: NC-17
A smutlet for my Harry/Ron claim at 50_smutlets.
Love
****
When Harry had first realised he fancied blokes, he had tried very hard not to fancy Ron.
The one thing he could not afford to do, was to offend Ron, lose Ron.
It was almost impossible for the Chosen One to pick up men in pubs, to get the hang of things, and he had been thrilled to discover that Seamus was only to happy to be experimented with.
The mouthy Irishman was the least shy person Harry had ever met, and he'd gleefully described and attempted any number of things that were beyond Harry's wildest dreams.
And Harry had proved to himself that, yes, he fancied blokes.
He fancied strong thighs and tight arses and hot, heavy cocks.
He knew that, for the rest of his life, he wanted to lie beneath a strong, beautiful man, whose arms trembled as he surged and thrust into him.
The only problem was, he also knew who he wanted that man to be.
He'd enjoyed a laugh with Seamus, but it hadn't lasted.
And there was really only one man he could be that vulnerable with.
Only one man he could love.
The one man he must never make a pass at.
But then, for the only time in his entire, stupid life, the fates smiled on him.
A drunken, miserable Ron had arrived at his flat and confessed his deepest, darkest secret.
The reason he had split up with Hermione wasn't just some guff about wanting different things.
Because, really, they'd wanted the same thing.
A tall, dark, gorgeous boyfriend, with a Quidditch player's thigh muscles and Seeker's hands.
So, Hermione had moved to Bulgaria, and Ron had clumsily grabbed Harry by the shoulders and drunkenly kissed him and passed out in his lap.
Harry had put him to bed and kissed him on the forehead and he'd never left.
Which brought them to today.
To their bed, in their flat.
Where a contrite Ron was making up for diving for cover and leaving Harry exposed to Tonks' amused gaze.
Where Harry had already come twice and was shaking and running his hands down Ron's back as he arched beneath him, his legs spread wide while Ron gasped and thrust, his cock hot and hard and stretching Harry until the world narrowed to the beloved face above him and the tall slender body surging over his.
"Love you," he whispered against Ron's lips.
"'Course you do," Ron smiled.
My Table.