In a jam - H/R - NC-17
Title: In a jam
Author: shocfix
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Harry/Ron
Summary: Harry and Ron have been captured by Voldemort, how will their friendship get them though this?
Warnings: um, there is a kink – click the lj-cut below if you think there is a sexual practice that might squick you – and silliness. Well, the first bit is sort of normal, but after that it’s all lysrouge’s fault, as usual. I mean, my normal stories are funny – I hope? Aren’t they?


When Ron returned to consciousness he was aware of pain everywhere. He was lying on his face on what felt like stone; it was cold and hard and his cheek was pressed against it, his eyes closed. He tried to push himself upright and discovered what the dreadful pain in his shoulders was; his hands were somehow tied behind his back, twisting his shoulders backwards and making it almost impossible for him to rise from the floor.

Finally working one knee under his body, he managed to lever himself into a kneeling position and turn to look at the room. At the dungeon. And somehow, no matter how much he loathed Snape, he didn’t think he was in the dungeons at Hogwarts.

There, on the other side of the room, someone lay with their back to Ron. Someone who also had their hands bound together in the small of their back. Someone with a shock of black hair, shining softly in the light from the torches high above them.

Ron struggled awkwardly to his feet and stumbled across the room, then managed to kneel at Harry’s side. Leaning down he hooked his shoulder round Harry’s and rolled him onto his back.

Harry’s face was pale, and there was a cut on his cheekbone, but his chest rose and fell smoothly, and now Ron felt a bit guilty – it must be horribly uncomfortable, lying on his bound wrists like that. He leant closer and spoke in Harry’s ear.

“Harry, wake up. Can you hear me, mate? Harry?” He nudged Harry’s face gently and sat back up.

Harry’s eyes flickered open and he looked up at Ron, blinking stupidly until he managed to focus on him. “Ron?” he whispered, “where are we?”

“Um. A pretty generic dungeon, somewhere.”

Harry snorted. “And why am I so fucking uncomfortable?”

“They’ve tied our hands behind our backs, uh, actually I rolled you onto your back, and I’m not sure how you’re going to be able to sit up.” Ron looked shamefaced.

Harry rolled his eyes and raised his legs in the air and then swung himself upright.

“Oh,” said Ron.

They sat side by side against the wall, not speaking much. Conserving their energy for what lay ahead. The dungeon was dark and damp, as traditional, and a crack in one wall admitted a trickle of water and a trail of ants.

Suddenly the door burst open and Lord Voldemort was framed dramatically in the doorway. Harry and Ron looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. OK, he was going for theatrical, was he?

Voldemort strode into the room, his robes billowing around him and stood before them. “So,” he hissed, “the Boy Who Lived doesn’t look so impressive now. How would your fans feel if they could see you like this?”

“Like what?” asked Harry.

“Like this!” thundered Voldemort and, whipping out his wand dramatically and performing a Banishing Charm with an unnecessary flourish of the wrist that Ron knew, for a fact, would have irritated Hermione beyond belief.

Suddenly the floor felt even colder and Ron and Harry looked down to find they were both now naked.

“I thought you had a thing for Unforgiveables,” said Ron.

“There are more ways to torture someone than with the Unforgiveables,” sneered Voldemort, and he pointed his wand at Ron and hissed “marmelatacorpus.”

Ron flinched and closed his eyes, but when he felt no pain he opened them and looked down again. To find that he was covered, head to toes, in a layer of jam. He licked his lips. Hmm. Blackcurrent. He turned to look at Harry, who was still naked, but jam-free. Their eyes met, but Harry looked as baffled as Ron felt, so they both looked up at Voldemort again.

“Jam?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” sneered Voldemort, “let’s see how brave you are, Potter, after watching your best friend being bitten to death by poisonous ants!” And with another flourish he strode from the room and the door slammed closed behind him with what he obviously hoped was an ominous clang.

They both looked at the ants on the far side of the room. They were still marching in single file, out of one crack and back in another, between two stones. Ron turned back to Harry, wild eyed, starting to panic. “Harry, I don’t like ants. What am I going to do?”

Harry scooted closer and ran his eyes over Ron’s sweetly coated body. “It’s OK,” he said, looking Ron firmly in the eye, “I’ll lick it off.”

Ron’s eyes opened even wider. “L..l…lick?” stammered Ron, looking at Harry incredulously.

“There’s no other way, Ron,” said Harry, earnestly. “No wands, our hands our bound, we have no water.” And he leant closer and ran his tongue along Ron’s jaw line. Ron gasped as Harry methodically worked his tongue all over his face. Lapping at his eyelids, closing his mouth on his chin, sucking on his earlobes, licking his neck as Ron tipped his head back to let him.

Harry sat back to judge his work, his eyes running over Ron’s face, which still tingled from the contact with his best friend’s mouth. “That looks good,” Harry said frowning slightly, then he shuffled behind Ron on his knees and commanded “lean forward a bit, Ron.”

Ron closed his eyes and leant forwards, careful not to rest his throat on his raised knees – not to get any jam from his legs back onto his face. He knew his face was so flushed that the heat had already dried Harry’s saliva.

Harry went to work on his shoulders, working his way backwards and forwards across his back in a rhythm that was hypnotising. At the end of each row he worked his tongue between Ron’s arm and his body, lapping the jam from the sensitive skin down the inside of his arm. Ron tried very hard to keep his breath even.

Then Harry reached his elbows and Ron’s eyes rolled up in his head as Harry’s tongue ran repeatedly down his forearm. When Ron thought his skin could get no more sensitive he felt Harry’s tongue drawing circles in the palm of his hand. And then, oh, god, Harry’s mouth closed over each finger and he drew back his head as he swirled his tongue and sucked it clean.

Without a moment’s respite, Harry turned to the other arm and repeated his exquisite torture.

When both hands tingled and trembled from their cleansing, Harry said “try and hold your arms away from your body, Ron” and he lent forward and felt Harry bend down low and run his tongue up his spine, right from the base, right from the dimple above his arse, and he closed his eyes and swallowed the groan that was welling up inside him.

Again and again Harry’s tongue ran up his back, scooping up the sweet blackcurrant jam and swallowing it down. When he was satisfied that Ron’s back was licked clean, he knelt up to lave the back of his neck with a hot tongue. Rolling his head to give his friend better access, Ron leant against his legs and wondered what was going to happen when Harry asked him to lie down, because something had risen against his belly that he was going to find it, well, hard to explain.

But then Harry leant against him to run his tongue along the curve of his ear and he felt Harry’s erection pressed against his bound wrists.

Sitting back on his heels, Harry took a bit of a breather and licked his lips. He wished he could have a drink, but when he eyed the water trickling down the wall in the far corner, he noticed that the ants had started to come further into the room.

“Um. Right. Uh. Can you lie down now, Ron?” and he shifted out of the way as Ron gingerly lay back, trying to lie comfortably on his immobilised arms, painfully aware that this thrust his throbbing cock even more obviously into the air.

Harry manfully ignored it and crawled down to his feet, so Ron closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing as Harry started at his toes and began licking his legs clean. Each toe got the same treatment as his fingers; it was sucked deep into Harry’s mouth and released with a swirl of his tongue. Then Harry’s tongue worked over his foot, running deliciously up the sole and making his cock throb harder.

When each foot was spotless, Harry had him bend his knee and plant his foot on the floor, giving him access to his calves. Harry’s head dipped repeatedly as his tongue ran up Ron’s leg, from ankle to knee. Next, with trembling legs lying flat and parted again, he felt Harry’s tongue sweep over his thighs, getting closer and closer to…another break, apparently.

Harry sat back, his chest heaving, his thigh muscles aching. This was hard work, without being able to take any weight on his hands. Bypassing Ron’s shaft he returned to his face and their eyes met. Harry nodded. “OK?” he asked. Ron nodded, sharply, trying not to look at Harry’s cock as it bobbed over him.

Then Harry bent low and sucked on Ron’s collarbone and Ron gave in to the sensations again. Methodically cleaning one side of his body, Harry worked closer and closer to Ron’s nipple, until his mouth finally closed over it, sucking it to an aching peak. Then he moved on, lower and lower, his tongue dipping into Ron’s navel, running down the line of hair that led down from it, then turning away to run up his groin and round back up his side again.

Giving Ron a minute to catch his breath, Harry crawled around to the other side of his body. Glancing across the room, he could see the first ants were about half way across the floor.

Then, starting on the other collarbone, he repeated his ablutions, until he nudged Ron’s legs apart and knelt between his thighs. “Can you spread them further, Ron?” he asked, in what Ron started to think of an unnecessarily businesslike manner, until Harry bent his head and licked the jam from his inner thigh. He couldn’t imagine anything better than the feel of Harry’s tongue running along his groin, and then Harry took his balls in his mouth and rolled them gently on his tongue as he sucked the sack clean.

Harry looked down at his friend, whose freckles gleamed damply in the torchlight. So. The only thing left on his front was his cock. “Well,” said Harry, “um, actually it’ll be easier to, um, suck it like this.” And as Ron held his breath he felt his best friend’s incredibly hot mouth close over his straining erection. Harry sucked hard, swirling his tongue over the head and dipping the tip of his tongue in the slit. Dipping his head once more, he took as much as he could in his mouth and, as it hit the back of his throat, Ron gasped and came, and he found his mouth flooded with warm, creamy liquid. He swallowed and leant lower and as Ron’s cock softened slightly he finally managed to take it all in his mouth and suck it clean right to the base.

When he sat up again, Ron wouldn’t look at him, but whispered “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Actually, that was ok, after all that jam.”

Ron snorted in disbelief and finally met his eyes. Harry climbed over his thigh and crawled back up to his face. “Really, it’s ok, I, um, I wanted to do it.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, but there was still work to be done, and Harry tore his eyes away. “Right, roll over,” he ordered, and Ron lurched onto his front, resting his flushed cheek on the cool floor. “OK,” said Harry, “the backs of your thighs,” and he bent once more and ran his tongue over Ron’s legs, from the sensitive skin behind his knees, up to the cheek of his arse.

When his legs were damp and clean, he felt Harry crawl between them and lick off the jam that was left on his backside. Harry’s tongue slipped into the top of the crack of his arse and tried to probe deeper, but he soon stopped. “Um, Ron. Um. Can you kneel? Just sort of on your knees, but keep your, um, chest on the floor?”

Glad Harry couldn’t see his burning face, Ron brought his knees up under him, bringing his arse up to Harry’s face, his cheeks parted. Then Harry ducked his head and ran his tongue from behind his balls, over his entrance and right up to the top of his cleft.

God. So that was over. He was clean. But Harry ducked his head again. And again. Running his tongue over and over the sensitive skin, then, concentrating on one spot in particular, his tongue spiralled closer and closer until it reached his hole, and slipped inside.

Ron groaned loudly as he felt Harry thrust his tongue inside him. Harry’s breath was hot against the wet trail he’d left, and his tongue stroked deeper and deeper into him. Then, as Harry pulled back he felt, rather than heard, him whisper “Ron, can I?”

“Please,” Ron moaned, and spread his legs wider as Harry knelt up and pointed his aching cock at his entrance. It took several tries to achieve the correct angle with no hands to guide him inside, but he had lubricated and loosened the tight ring of muscle and once he slipped inside he felt Ron’s body grip him and draw him further in.

Awkwardly he thrust his hips forward and Ron’s arse pushed up to meet him, but after what he was pretty sure was unique in the, well, the annals of foreplay, it didn’t take many strokes before he exploded deep inside his friend’s body.

Ron heard Harry cry out and felt him come. For a moment he took the weight of Harry’s sated body on his back, but then Harry pulled out and he struggled to his knees and turned to face him.

“Harry,” he whispered, and swallowed hard. “Harry, you have jam on your face.” And he leant forward and licked of the remnants of the jam that adhered to Harry’s chin and cheeks. Then he finally came to Harry’s lips, and ran his tongue along them. Harry’s mouth opened willingly and sucked Ron’s tongue inside. They kissed deeply for a moment, then pulled back to look at each other.

“Well,” said Harry.

“Yeah”, said Ron. And they both smiled.

Looking around the room, they saw that the ants had turned and headed back to their corner. Ron leant forwards and nuzzled his face in Harry’s neck. “Oh, Harry,” he murmured, as he felt Harry lay his cheek on Ron’s hair.

The door opened once more, and he felt Harry’s body tense up. They both raised their heads and turned towards it, bracing themselves for Voldemort’s anger.

Only to see Tonks and Hermione burst in, faces flushed and wands raised.

Both women ran to their side, and Hermione threw her arms around their necks. “I thought we’d never find you,” she gasped.

Tonks severed their bonds and as they rubbed some life back into their wrists, she and Hermione draped a cloak over each of them, and drew them to their feet.

Harry and Ron’s eyes met as the same thought occurred to each of them “why were the girls carrying cloaks – how much had they seen?”

****


Warning : rimming

Oh, and my new spell, marmelatacorpus, is from the Italian ‘marmelata’ – jam