Mud - H/R - NC-17
Title: Mud
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17

Written for my darling rosina_alcona, ‘cos she spent the weekend at a festival, and wanted to come back to slashy smut.


Mud

Putting up a Muggle tent was easier by himself than with Ron's help, so Harry didn't complain too much as he struggled with the ropes and Ron stood in the rain, watching him and dripping.

“How d'you know how to do that, anyway?” asked Ron, hunching deeper into his hood, and transferring his weight from one wellied foot to the other with a squelching sound.

“I don't,” spat Harry, struggling with a rope and falling backwards into a puddle, “it's just common sense, Ron.” Ron sniggerered. “What's so funny?”

“You sound like Hermione. Except I think she'd have had the tent up by now. She'd have done that first, before we went off to check out the beer-tent.”

Harry sat in the puddle and looked up at his best friend. “Thank's Ron, big help.” He grumbled back to his feet and untangled the rope he'd been fighting with.

“Anyway, I think you enjoy this,” said Ron, nodding wisely and grinning at Harry.

“Enjoy what, Ron? I am soaked, I am muddy. I just drank six pints of Wurzle's Old Temptation. I only agreed to come with you because The Reformation were playing, and now they have split up again and their lead singer has become a monk. I am putting up this tent by myself, in the dark, in the rain, because you are, quite frankly, a liability in the Muggle world, and, and why are you smiling?”

“I think you enjoy this, because that was a completely normal list of problems – it didn't include any Dark Lords plotting to kill you.” Ron looked enormously smug.

Harry grunted. A smile tugged at his reluctant lips. Ron smirked. Harry smiled and hung his head, nodding.

“I think this may be the most normal weekend of my entire life, Ron.” He looked up at the taller boy, who was smiling more gently down at him.

“You deserve it, Harry.” Harry's smile wobbled slightly. “I tell you what. I am going to make it my life long mission to make sure you always have normal problems to grumble about.” Harry laughed out loud and shook his head.

“Bastard,” he muttered and turned back to the tent.

Soon it was finished and he and Ron picked up their backpacks and ducked under the flaps. Harry swiftly knelt and struggled with his things; shrugging off his parka, opening and unrolling his sleeping-bag, digging out a dry change of clothing and starting to wriggle out of his muddy clothes.

Ron just squatted in the doorway, eyes darting around the interior of the tent.

Harry lay on his sleeping bag to unlace his boots and strip off his sodden jeans and finally noticed his friend's inactivity. “What?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“This is it?” asked Ron, in a disbelieving whisper, “No beds, no kitchen?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. We are in the middle of a Muggle rock festival, in a Muggle tent. How would it look if anyone peered into our tent and spotted us at the table in the kitchen?”

Ron still looked baffled. “But the beer-tent is massive, and that tent with the stage in it..”

“Ron. Those tents are also massive on the outside, yeah?”

“Um. Yeah. I s'pose so. So this is it? Sleeping bags on the ground?”

“Why did you think you'd packed a sleeping bag, Ron?”

“Um. For effect?”

Harry made a strange strangled noise in his throat and sat up. “Look, it'll be fine, Ron. Unpack your sleeping bag and change and we'll put our backpacks down the end of the tent and there'll be enough room. It's already really late, and we'll be outside most of the day tomorrow – and the bands play until all hours. We'll only come in here to sleep.”

Ron nodded and made to sit down beside Harry, who shoved him away.

“Ron, you're still dripping,” said Harry, rising up onto his knees and helping Ron take off his wet coat in the confined space. For once being so much shorter made life easier. Then Ron kicked his way out of his wellies and Harry placed them with his boots inside the 'doorway' of the tent as he knelt and zipped the flaps shut for the night.

When he turned round Ron had managed to strip down to his Cannons boxers and was unrolling his sleeping bag next to Harry's. “Are you sure these are comfortable?” grumbled Ron, “I think it'll strangle me.”

“Just you wait,” said Harry, and crawled past his friend to unzip his bag, “Undo your zip all the way round, Ron.” With much wriggling, and knees and bottoms getting stuck in faces, Harry managed to unzip both bags and then zip them together as a double sleeping bag. He sat back, a little flushed, and made a 'ta-da' gesture.

“Yeah, great,” muttered Ron, “still looks bloody uncomfortable.”

“Ron, you were the one who wanted to come to this thing, though heaven knows why, as you haven't heard of any of the bands, you don't like Muggle ale, you..”

Ron leant forward and put his finger to Harry's lips. “I'm sorry, Harry. It's just that I'm wet, and I was a bit surprised by the tent, but you know why I wanted to come. I wanted to be alone with you.”

“Well, ok,” said Harry, slightly mollyfied, “shall we turn in, then?” Ron nodded, in a conciliatory fashion, and they both wriggled into the sleeping bag and zipped it up.

Shifting around until they'd fitted themselves together comfortably, they ended up with Ron's arm under Harry's neck and Harry tucked under his chin, arms folded between them, and one leg slipped between Ron's.

Harry sighed and relaxed against his friend and felt Ron shiver as his sigh brushed the taller boy's neck. “There,” he murmured, “that's why we're here. I want to be alone with you, too.” Nuzzling his face into Ron's neck, he kissed the damp skin. Ron groaned and threw his head back, giving Harry better access to his freckled throat.

“Mmm, Harry, this was an excellent idea. Sleeping bags, yeah, mmmm.” Harry was licking circles on the salty skin of his neck, and as he tangled his free hand in Harry's messy, black hair, he felt Harry's fingers flex against his chest and start wandering closer to his nipples, which had already hardened in anticipation.

Harry bit and sucked his throat and now his fingers were playing with Ron's nipples, and his thigh was rubbing against Ron's erection, pushing it against his belly. He tried to run his hands over Ron's belly, but found his arms were bent at the elbow and had no room to straighten.

Ron managed to run his hand down Harry's back, feeling the muscles tightening under his fingers, but when it reached his arse he was stuck. He wanted to reach for Harry's cock, but found there was no room to bend his elbow. “Harry, I want to touch you,” he muttered into Harry's hair, “but I can't reach.”

“Just a sec,” said Harry, trying to move back and give Ron room. He succeeded in freeing one of his own arms, and wedged that down between them, but Ron's hand was still stuck on his backside.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” muttered Ron, “this is worse than a single bed in Gryffindor Tower.”

“No, it's ok, I can reach you,” Harry kissed his neck again to stop his moaning and elicited another sort of moan, altogether. Moving his leg out of the way and digging his elbow into his side he managed to slip his hand between their hip bones and grasp Ron's cock. Ron gasped and dug his fingers into Harry's arse cheek, pulling him closer and trapping his hand between their bodies.

“Let go, Ron, I can't move my hand,” Harry tried to wriggle back, but was stopped by Ron holding him firmly in place.

“Harry, this is ridiculous. Look, get your hand out of the way. How about if you hold my arse too? Can we thrust against each other?”

Harry managed to drag his hand free, and he slipped it round Ron waist and down to his arse. Slipping his fingers between the cheeks for leverage, he started rocking against his lover. Ron gripped Harry's arse firmly and thrust back against him. Harry buried his face in Ron's neck again and sucked on his neck as their rhythm built.

“'t's good,” murmured Ron, “bite me, Harry.”

Harry turned his head and bit hard on Ron's collar-bone as Ron slipped his leg over Harry and held him down as he thrust harder and harder against him. With a yell he threw back his head and came over Harry's stomach.

Harry bucked up against the taller boy; trapped under his body, he could barely move, he could barely breath; he thrust his cock against Ron's, slipping through the come that sandwiched their bodies together until he felt his own climax building deep inside him.

And as he reached the edge, Ron managed to lift his weight sufficiently to slip his hand under Harry and slip a finger inside him. Harry gasped and saw stars and exploded.

They managed to roll back onto their sides, heavy limbs entwined, and Harry rested his head on Ron's shoulder.

Ron kissed the top of his head. “OK, that was great, but how the hell do we clean ourselves up? I can't move my arms.”