Perfect - Harry/Ron - NC-17
Title: Perfect
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1900
Rating: NC-17

This is a sequel to My Eyes!, Arse and Cinderella.

Thanks, as always, to the wonderful magicofisis, for handing me a box of commas and showing me where to use them!


Perfect
****
You know, I wonder how the human race survives at all.

Because let’s say, for the sake of argument, that a bloke fancies Hermione. What does he do? Well, after three years or so he manages to ask her on a Hogsmeade weekend. But should he hold her hand? He has no idea. Does she want him to kiss her? Absolutely no idea. How many dates would it take before he can drag her up to his bed? Abso-fucking-lutely no idea.

We only went out that once. And I never did try to kiss her.

Anyway.

I’m assuming it’s roughly the same, no matter who the girl is.

But just look at me now!

This morning it had never even occurred to me that I could fancy another bloke. Yet within five minutes of Harry climbing into my lap, he had pulled me to my feet and dragged me up the stairs and we had swiftly bypassed his Malfoy-infected mattress and collapsed onto my bed in a tangle of arms and legs and half removed clothes.

Blokes are just so much easier. I don’t mean slutty. I mean easier to work out, to understand, to know what they want. OK, maybe I do mean slutty.

Because with a girl, there’d be all that subtle negotiation and trying to look casual as you brushed your hand against her breast, ready with a cover story about having to stretch your arm as it was getting cramped if she objected.

But with Harry, all I said was, “Take your clothes off” and he was naked beneath me. Brilliant!

And he whispered, “You, too,” and I stripped in a second. Do girls realise how much guys want to get naked? They probably do.

I had seen Harry naked before. Well, you know that. There was the whole thrusting against Malfoy thing that we’re not mentioning anymore. I mean before, before. We’d shared a dorm and showers for years. Of course I’d seen him naked. And I’d never thought more than, “Fuck, Harry’s too thin.”

But I’d never seen him as a, well, a sexual being until that morning. And now here he was, stark-bollock-naked, and I could do what I liked with him. Why had I never thought of doing this before? I leant back and watched my fingers zig-zag down his ribs, brushing over perfect pink nipples that stood to attention against my fingers.

“Ron?” he asked, with a laugh in his voice.

OK, so I was staring at him, but he didn’t have to laugh at me, the bastard. I looked up and met his eyes and he sniggered and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Why have we never done this before?” I demanded.

He laughed again. Merlin, it was good to hear him laugh. “Well,” he said slowly, running one hand through my hair. “You were straight?”

“Well, yeah,” I conceded. “But so what?” And I bent my head and kissed him again. Oh, he tasted good. And his lips were soft and they curved into a smile against mine as I groaned into his mouth. And that was best of all, because I loved making him smile. I’ve always loved making him smile.

And, OK, his hands were running down my body, and his cock was rubbing against my thigh, and, yes, this was all very sexy. But it’s not what I’d been thinking of all day. I wanted to make that edible arse flex for me like it had for Malfoy.

“Harry, roll over,” I whispered against his lips and watched his eyes fly open.

“What d’you want to…”

“Please,” I interrupted, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth and nipping it gently.

He nodded frantically and I scrambled clear as he rolled onto his front, adjusting his position to keep his erection from getting too badly trapped.

Another huge advantage over girls. Not the trapped erection; that can be bloody painful. No, the immediate “Yup, here you go, have your wicked way with me, are my legs spread wide enough?” attitude. I bet you don’t get that with a girl. Not on the first date.

I knelt by his side and reached out a hand to touch him. Holding my breath, I ran it across his shoulders and down his back, smoothing carefully over every bone until I came to the dip at the base of his spine. Then I let my breath out in a huge sigh as I let my fingers run over the curve of his arse.

I hadn’t been remembering it wrongly. It was superb. The muscles trembled under my hand and the cheeks drew together slightly as I allowed one finger to trace along the valley between them.

I moved, nudging my knee between his until he opened his legs, then kneeling between them and letting both hands touch him. Leaning forward and letting both hands feel his skin from his shoulder blades, down the planes of his back, over his ribs, narrowing at his waist and coming together at his arse. Leaning back to cup it in both hands. To squeeze it. To let my thumbs run down between those perfect, perfect, tight, perfect, muscular cheeks, that flexed gently under my hands as Harry moaned and thrust down against the bed.

And those muscles gripped tight around my thumbs, holding them in place as Harry gasped and squeezed tighter.

“Fuck, Ron,” he muttered into the pillow and I whispered “Hush,” and he relaxed and my thumbs parted his cheeks and ran down between them, circling his hole, and he trembled under my hands, and, god, it was fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. I, I was making him tremble.

Then I flexed my fingers, digging my nails into his arse and dragging them downwards, leaving red marks against the beautiful pale skin. I leant down and pressed my palms hard against him, pressing forward and smoothing the marks away, pressing outwards and parting the cheeks again, and Harry grunted softly and arched up off the bed. Which gave me room to brush the pad of my thumb back and forth over his hole, pressing slightly against the ring of muscle on each pass.

And each time it gave just a little more, letting me press gently into him.

I don’t know how long I knelt there, petting and stroking his arse, but eventually he turned, looked over one shoulder, raised an eyebrow and asked “Uh, should I be jealous, Ron? Is there something going on between you and my arse that I should know about?”

So I leant down and sank my teeth into one cheek and he yelped. But then I ran my tongue over the teeth-marks, and I felt him quiver against my mouth.

I was still holding his cheeks apart and I was running my tongue in circles over the curved flesh, and I found myself drawing closer and closer to the smooth hairless path that led between those perfect cheeks.

And I had no idea if he’d like it, but not in the oh-god-I-want-to-touch-her-breast-but-I-don’t-know-if-she-wants-me-to way. Because where a girl will say she doesn’t want you to even if she likes it, just because she thinks she’s supposed to, I knew Harry would only stop me if he didn’t like it, and then that would be fair enough.

And quite frankly I had no idea what I was doing. I mean, if you’d come to me the day before and asked “Would you like to lick Harry’s arsehole?” well, I’d have hexed you, punched you, sworn at you. All of the above. But now he was quivering under my hands, and under my tongue, and as my hot breath hit him he shivered.

So I leant lower and lower and pushed against his cheeks as I dipped my tongue between them and licked over his hole and up to the beautiful dimple at the base of his spine.

He jumped and yelped and shook and I nuzzled him there, pressing kisses into the swell at the top of his arse.

He whispered “Ron?” in a strangled, disbelieving tone of voice, and I replied, “Was that OK?”

The back of his neck had flushed red, but he sighed and relaxed and snuggled into the pillows again, murmuring, “Hmmmm, yeah,” as his thighs subtly spread wider. And I smiled and nuzzled lower, turning my hands out of the way to slide all my fingertips down between his cheeks and spread them further. Dipping my head, I licked his balls from behind, where they were squashed between his thighs, and he squirmed and thrust back at me.

My face was buried between his legs, tongue probing, nose between those trembling cheeks, eyes wide open, marvelling at the sight before me.

Then my tongue worked it’s way higher, and I whispered “Mine,” against his skin, before dragging my tongue right along his crack, feeling his hole clench as I licked it.

Look, I know this is bizarre. And I even know, on some level, I have the ferret to thank for this. I don’t know what else would have woken me up to how I felt about Harry. He’d always been the most important thing in my world. There’s always been nothing I wouldn’t do to make him happy.

I had just never realised that that included circling my tongue round and round his hole until he was whimpering under my mouth. And then Harry moaned ‘More,’ and I thrust three fingers into my mouth and sucked on them, before stroking him and gently pressing into his hole with a fingertip until his body relaxed and let it inside.

Because it did make him happy. It did. He was thrusting down, rubbing his cock on the blankets; then up, spearing himself on my fingers. And he was crying out my name, and he somehow managed to draw his legs up under him and I swiftly batted his hand out of the way as it reached for his cock, and I wrapped my hand round his erection that was already throbbing and twitching as I stroked it. And he thrust his arse up hard into my face, so I added my tongue to my fingers, licking at the tender skin as I thrust my fingers inside him, and as I squeezed his cock I felt streams of hot come painting my hand and Harry cried out and collapsed in a heap and I rested my forehead on his hip to let him catch his breath, still feeling his cock twitch in one hand and his arse clench around the other.

And as I slipped my fingers free from that heavenly arse, that still flexed slightly as he thrust lazily into my hand, you’d think I might be embarrassed. Almost anything made me blush. You’d think this would push me off the scale.

But Harry made a small noise in his throat and pulled me down next to him, and crawled into my arms, nuzzling against my neck and making the most fantastic contented noises, and I’ve never been prouder of myself.

There you go. Hermione always says I have self-esteem issues. Well, I have finally found what I am best at. The thing that’ll make me feel good about myself; make me stand out from my brothers. And, as Harry pulled my face down to his and sucked noisily on my tongue, with no regard for where it had been, I marvelled at my luck.

He was mine.

And no one was ever going to take Harry and his perfect arse away from me.


Cock, arse. Arse, cock.