The Green Fairy - H/R - NC-17
Title: The Green Fairy
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17

Written for harry_and_ron's third challenge round - Harry and Ron's Christmas In July.

I thought long and hard about trying something with plot, or structure, or something, but the Challenge isn’t the darkest thing I have ever read, and I re-read kaalee’s and rosina_alcona’s pieces from Challenge 2 and, well, let’s just say I know my place. So, funny smut it is then!

This is something of a sequel to Mud and Custard.

It was beta-ed by the butter-doesn’t-melt-in-my-mouth qwertytigger and the anything-melts-in-my-mouth-‘cos-I’m-teh-hawt kaalee, and I love them both.

And it is dedicated to my new, uber-sexy friend from Australia – who just climaxed on the spot when she read the title! Everyone stop reading for a moment while she has a post-coital cigarette and tries to pull herself together.


The Green Fairy

****
It was nearly Christmas and, much to Harry’s irritation, Ron still hadn’t told his family that they were together.

Ron was running the twins’ new store in Hogsmeade, so they saw quite a lot of Fred and George. Harry thought that the twins would take the news pretty well, and that they should be the first people they told. Ron thought not. So they sat in the lounge in the evenings with Fred and George, swapping gossip, talking Quidditch, eating a take-away, drinking Butterbeer, and not being able to touch each other. Though Ron said he would be unlikely to grope Harry in front of any of his brothers, even if they knew. Harry said that that wasn’t the point.

Even Hermione hadn’t been told. Harry thought she already knew. Ron scoffed. When she came over they made a proper dinner and ate in the kitchen. Harry said she looked at them in a slightly wistful way, as if she knew they had a secret, and didn’t like being kept in the dark. Ron said she just missed hanging out with them. Harry said Ron was an insensitive wart, and he didn’t know what he saw in him.

Ron showed him.

They had decided that the best way to keep Molly from popping in regularly was to keep the flat spotless. It was Ron’s plan, but he had been looked after by his mum all his life, so Harry found that he did the lion’s share of the housework. Ron worked in the shop beneath the flat, and usually popped upstairs for a sandwich at lunchtime, for a cuppa in the afternoon. Harry normally apparated home after practicing with the Cannons to find piles of used plates and cups in the kitchen and in the lounge, with Ron sitting in the midst of them, feet up, reading the paper, or listening to the WWN.

Harry said, “Fine, let’s tell your parents, and then it doesn’t matter if the flat is a mess.”

Ron said, “Let’s not.”

It was freezing cold, and the last day of training before the Christmas break. It got dark very early, and it had started to snow, so the manager was kind for once and let them adjourn to the bar for a few drinks. Harry showered grumpily and then wandered down to the bar and sat on a stool, staring into his Firewhisky and sulking. The night before, he’d returned home at midnight after a night practise, to find a cold, dark flat, with Ron passed out drunk in their bed, empty bottles and pizza boxes on the coffee table, Neville asleep on the sofa and Seamus curled up in an armchair.

Fan-fucking-tastic, thought Harry. Well, I hope they see us in bed together in the morning. And he’d got undressed, shoved Ron onto his side of the bed, removed the bottle of absinthe that Fleur had given them from Ron’s arms, and slipped in beside him. Ron had muttered something about a Green Fairy, kissed Harry sloppily with enough alcohol fumes to knock him out and gone back to sleep.

This morning Harry had left for the Cannons’ stadium before the other three awoke, stepping over Seamus’s legs as he crossed the lounge. And now he was loath to go home. He couldn’t face a row, he didn’t want to see the state the flat was in; they were supposed to be going to stay at the Burrow in the morning, and he thought a Harry-and-Ron not speaking was going to be just as suspicious to the rest of the Weasleys as a Harry-and-Ron who kept touching each other.

So he took another drink for Dutch courage before looping his Cannons scarf around his throat, picking up his cloak and his Firebolt and apparating home, slightly wobbly.

The lounge was immaculate, the fire crackling merrily, the cushions plump and inviting. There was a bottle of wine waiting on the coffee table, with two glasses, and a delicious smell coming from their kitchen.

Harry dropped his broomstick and cloak on an armchair and went into the kitchen to find Ron, wearing an apron, and prodding something in a saucepan with a wooden spoon and a frown. He looked up at Harry with a slightly tentative smile, and every last bit of Harry’s irritation melted away.

“Hey,” he said.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” said Ron, putting down his saucepan and crossing over to Harry, “I know I’m a thoughtless git, and I’m the one that won’t come out to anyone, and then I let Seamus and Neville crash feet away from our bed. And I shouldn’t make such a mess, and…” His words were swallowed by Harry’s kiss, which he gratefully deepened, winding his hands in Harry’s scarf to hold him close.

Harry felt the fug of morose drunkenness turn to a warm haze of loving tipsiness and he pulled his lips away just far enough to whisper, “Bed,” before sucking gently on Ron’s full top lip, and half turning towards the bedroom.

Ron followed, hands still wrapped in Harry’s scarf, lips grazing desperately across Harry’s jaw. The bedroom was also spotless. Nothing was strewn on the floor, candles were lit on the bedside table, the bottle of absinthe and two shot glasses sitting beside them.

Ron threw the scarf onto the bed and Harry undid the apron and pulled it over Ron’s head. They continued kissing gently, as they undid each other’s shirt buttons and tugged their shirts down over bare shoulders. Harry dropped his head and ran his tongue along Ron’s collarbone and then bit it, hard. Then he looked up again and kissed Ron, deeply. “Hmmm, Ron,” he whispered, “you taste of liquorice.”

Ron grinned. “You taste fantastic,” he said, “but you have to try this.” And he crossed to the bed, sat down and poured two shots of absinthe. Harry sat beside him, looking dubious. “Bill, says you have to knock it back, don’t sip it,” he advised and threw back his head and swallowed the almost glowing liquid with a shudder.

Harry, with the air of someone who was doing something against his better judgement, followed suit. It seared down into his stomach, where it immediately heated up and flashed throughout his body. Everything suddenly seemed crystal clear and as he looked at Ron there was almost a sparkling halo about him.

“Here, you need another shot to catch up with me,” Ron poured it unsteadily and Harry drank it without breaking eye contact.

He felt Ron’s fingers brush his stomach as he reached for the button on his jeans and started to undo it. They leant closer and kissed again. “Doesn’t that feel good?” Ron murmured against Harry’s lips. They quickly stripped and Ron ran his hand down Harry’s chest and stomach, gently clasping his cock and running a thumb over the head.

“Now you’ll see her, Harry,” Ron grinned and pushed Harry back onto the bed, “you’ll see the Green Fairy. She’s so beautiful, like an angel, but she wears almost nothing, you know. She’ll fly right up to your face, and you can see everything.” This seemed to make sense, so Harry nodded. Ron grabbed Harry’s Cannons scarf from the foot of the bed and tied it round his lover’s wrist. “She’s such a slut, she’d let you touch her,” he tied the scarf to the brass post of their bedstead, “she knows how dizzy you feel, how turned on,” he took his own Cannons scarf from a hook behind the bedroom door and returned to the bed, “but I can’t let you touch her,” he tied Harry’s other hand tightly to the bedpost, “because you’re mine, aren’t you, Harry?” he bent down and kissed him thoroughly.

“God, yes,” Harry croaked. Ron stood over him in the candle-light, his amazing mane of hair on fire, eyes sparkling, the air crackling with electricity. Harry closed his eyes.

Ron knelt between Harry’s legs and leant forwards to kiss him again, and Harry sucked hungrily on the tongue that thrust hard into his mouth. Ron sat back and ran his fingers up and down Harry’s erection, which leapt into his hand. “Can you feel that, Harry?” he whispered, “Those are her wings. You are fucking gorgeous Harry, and she is jealous, and she wants to touch you. Can you feel it?” his fingers fluttered, “Can you feel her?” he bent his head and rested his check against Harry’s cock and allowed his hair to drop around it like a tent.

Ron’s long hair brushing his cock felt amazing. The silky strands caressed him again and again and it did feel like wings. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright and he thought he could see her glowing and sparkling, but then Ron’s hot mouth closed around his cock and he closed his eyes again.

He thought it was almost a shame that no one else would ever know how good Ron was at giving head. Not that he’d share him, but a virtuoso performance like this should have a larger audience, shouldn’t it? He struggled against the scarves holding his hands spread above his head, but he couldn’t free them; god, he wanted to tangle his fingers in that river of flames and thrust into the sinfully hot mouth.

Ron felt him struggle, and he placed his large hands on Harry’s hips, pinning him helpless to the bed as he took Harry’s straining cock as deep into his throat as he could and sucked hungrily. He felt Harry thrash under him, and he felt Harry’s cock throb in his mouth. Then Harry screamed his name and warmth flooded his mouth.

Sucking until he had drained the last drop, he released Harry’s cock and kissed his way up his chest. They exchanged a long, wet kiss, and he let Harry run his tongue hungrily around his mouth, tasting himself on Ron’s tongue.

“Mmmm, Harry,” he murmured in Harry’s ear, as he knelt between his thighs, and stroked between his cheeks with a questing finger.

“God, that was awesome, Ron,” Harry whispered, spreading his legs further as Ron’s finger teased his entrance. “Did you leave the stove on?” Ron pulled back and looked down at him, exasperated. “Ron? I just don’t remember you turning it off.”

“I… I don’t know, I’ll go and check.” He kissed Harry firmly and climbed off the bed. Pausing, naked, in the doorway, he turned to smirk at Harry and say “though I don’t know if I have room for dinner, after what I just swallowed.”

“That’s good,” said a voice from behind him, “Because we’ve eaten it.”

And he turned to see Fred and George sitting in the lounge, feet up, glass of wine in hand, empty plates on the floor beside their chairs.

“And I didn’t think you’d mind, little brother” grinned Fred, nodding at Ron’s wilting erection, “not after what we’ve just had to listen to.”

****

There, my beloved green_fairy_ - you are Teh Hair.