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

Written for kaalee’s birthday, and because tehlils did terrible things to Ron in a Ron/Draco and I threatened to take him in to protective custardy….

It is something of a sequel to Mud.



Molly Weasley had huffed and clucked and muttered, but Ron had put his foot down. When he left school, Fred and George had offered him the flat over their new premises in Hogsmead, plus a job running the new store.

He and Harry felt they had done more than their share in the bloody war that took up half of their seventh year, and Ron was happy to play with Wheezes all day, while Harry was to start training with the Cannons in September.

So they had moved into the flat, with Molly and Hermione’s help and hand-me-down furniture from all over the place. They had a bedroom with two single beds, a lounge with a long couch and a sooty fireplace, a bathroom with a temperamental water supply, a kitchen with an old wizarding fridge and a table with a wobbly leg. They loved it. It was theirs.

Hermione fixed the table, made them promise to look after themselves and Apparated home. Molly had left bread in the breadbin, fruit in the fruitbowl, a casserole in the oven, an apple pie and a jug of custard in the fridge and a kiss on their cheeks and flooed back to the Burrow.

Ron Transfigured the two single beds into one king-size. Harry raised an eyebrow. “Very subtle mate, d’you think your mum will notice?”

“Why would she be in our bedroom?” asked Ron, sprawling on the couch.

“Because she will pop in to tidy up and to leave food, you know she will. We really have to tell people about us.”

Ron groaned. “I know. We will. That’s one of the main reasons I moved out. Just not now. Now, I am hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” said Harry, walking into the kitchen. He took the casserole out of the oven and dished it up as Ron laid the table. They sat down to eat and he grinned at the red-headed figure sitting opposite him.

“Woh kyu ginnig ak?” said Ron, his mouth full of food.

“You. Us. Together. In our own place. Happy. Together.”

Ron shook his head and swallowed, “You’re turning into a real sap, Harry,” he grinned back, “but I’m happy too.” He reached across the table and took Harry’s hand in his, and ran his fingers over the network of scars that criss-crossed the palm, souvenirs of his final battle with Voldemort, where his wand had exploded in his hand. “You deserve it, Harry, you really do. I’ll make sure you’re happy. You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“Now who’s the sap?” said Harry, but his eyes were bright and he grasped Ron’s fingers tightly.

Reclaiming his hand, Ron tucked in to his lunch and the two boys finished the casserole in record time. Harry cast a quick Warming Charm on their dessert. Cutting a large wedge of apple pie each, they carried their plates and the jug of custard into the lounge.

Ron turned on the wireless and tuned it to the Quidditch news on the WWN. “D’you think we could get a Muggle Telavisual, Harry?”

Harry put his feet up on the coffee table and forked off a large piece of pie, “Television, Ron, and no, where would we plug it in? I told you, we could get a flat in Muggle London, and then we could have things like a telly.” He popped the pie in his mouth.

“Dad would love that,” Ron smiled, picking up his whole wedge and biting into it.

Looking at his friend speculatively, Ron put down his plate and wriggled closer to Harry; he slipped his fingers between two buttons on Harry’s shirt. “What d’you wanna do now, Harry?” he asked, undoing the first button.

“Well, we’ve only got four rooms – which one should we Christen first?” Harry grinned and put down his own plate and tangled his fingers in Ron’s hair, bringing his face closer and gently kissing the other boy.

“I, I’m fine here, thanks” murmured Ron, between kisses, continuing to unbutton Harry’s shirt, until he could slip it from his shoulders. He ran his fingers over Harry’s chest and smiled at the noise Harry made in his throat.

“Less clothes,” muttered Harry, reaching for the button on Ron’s jeans.

“Fewer clothes,” corrected Ron, dragging his own t-shirt over his head.

Harry snorted. “I don’t want to feel like I’m fucking Hermione, Ron.”

Ron blushed. “Damn, she has really got to me, hasn’t she?”

They both shed the rest of their clothes and reached for each other once more. The couch was long enough to stretch out on, and Ron lowered Harry back and leant over him. Their legs tangled and their cocks jousted and they kissed throughly for a few minutes.Then Ron propped himself up on an elbow to look down at Harry.

“You know,” he mused, “I didn’t finish my dessert.”

“Hey, I’m naked here,” Harry pouted.

Ron wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and reached his long arm over to the coffee table and picked up the jug of warm custard. Harry’s eyes opened wide.

Frowning with concentration, Ron allowed a little custard to dribble onto Harry’s nipple. It was deliciously warm and Harry gasped. Then he groaned as Ron lowered his head and licked the custard off again, laving a wet trail over his chest. “More,” managed Harry.

Twice more he coated the hardened peak of Harry’s nipple and sucked it clean. “Yeah, mmm,” Harry muttered, clutching at Ron’s back and rubbing up against his groin.

Ron moved his body out of the way and Harry hissed something at him. “Sorry mate, I don’t speak Parseltongue,” Ron grinned and moved lower.

He filled Harry’s navel with custard and drank it down, then swirled his tongue in the dip, licking it clean. Working his way lower, he left a trail of custard along the trail of black hair that pointed towards Harry’s bobbing erection. Following it with his tongue he swirled and criss-crossed the trail, leaving a clean but tingling path behind him.

Biting his lower lip, Ron carefully poured enough custard on the head of Harry’s cock to weigh it down slightly, then lowered his mouth and gently sucked it off – barely touching the sensitive skin with his lips. Harry twitched under him.

Again and again he dripped custard onto Harry’s erection.

He covered the glistening head and licked it clean, diping his tongue gently into the weeping slit.

He drenched the shaft and nibbled his way along it, sucking in mouthfulls of custard and swallowing.

He engulfed Harry’s balls, and buried his face in it, gently take each one in his mouth, sucking it clean and rolling it on his tongue.

Then, taking a mouthfull of the smooth, warm, slippery custard, he leant down and captured Harry’s cock in his mouth.

“Oh, Ron,” Harry moaned, his eyelids fluttering and his hands reaching to hold Ron’s hair as he started to thrust against him. His cock slipped between Ron’s lips, plunging again and again into his mouth; Ron’s tongue swirled around him as he thrust through the pool of custard and touched the back of Ron’s throat.

Ron growled as Harry fucked his mouth, and the sound and vibration were enough to trigger Harry’s climax; bucking frantically, he thust harder and harder and poured his seed into Ron’s willing mouth.

Ron sucked greedily on his throbbing cock and finally swallowed his mouthfull of semen and custard.

Letting Harry’s cock slip from his mouth, he sat back and looked up at his lover. Harry was a boneless heap, one arm flung back behind his head, eyes closed, chest heaving, his body covered in sweat and traces of custard, his other hand cupping his cock.

“Harry,” Ron whispered.

Harry’s eyes opened and he smiled. “Hmmmm?” he answered.

“When we tell my Mum we’re together, please don’t tell her what we did with her custard.”