Flexible - H/R - NC-17
Title: Flexible
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1200
Rating: NC-17

A drabble to accompany wanderingbusker's entry for Flexible for eyecandy.


Flexible
****
It’s not that I think our behaviour needs justifying, as such, but maybe I should explain.

See, Hermione had gone up to the school, to help Professor McGonagall with something, and Harry and I were alone at Grimmauld Place.

And we were nineteen, fit, healthy, bored and drunk.

We’d got drunk together before, of course, and once we’d even had a wanking competition. Both of us on our knees, jeans unzipped, cocks out, just trying to come first.

I forget why.

This time I know exactly what happened, and who to blame.

Even if we’re not actually gonna tell him what he is pretty much responsible for.

Seamus.

It all – as with most of our sexual education over the last nine years – started with Seamus.

We’d been out for a few drinks with the usual crowd, and Seamus had a new Word of the Day.

Autofellatio.

Took a bit of explaining to Neville, who blushed scarlet, and no one believed Seamus could do it, anyway, and I thought I’d heard the last of it.

We said goodnight to our friends, and flooed home, and Harry wobbled up to our room with an extra bottle of firewhiskey.

We’d stripped down to our boxers and, after another few drinks, were sprawled companionably on Harry’s bed.

I was just wondering if I had the energy to walk all the way across the room to my own bed, when Harry spoke.

“D’you think you c’n do it, then?” he asked.

I blinked slowly at him and wracked my brains, but couldn’t come up with a subject. “Huh?” I said.

“You know,” he said, waving a vague hand. “What Seamus said; auto-thingy.”

“Oh,” I said.

I honestly hadn’t given it much thought.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Prob’ly too tall.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and squinted down his body, his glasses having been discarded some time ago. “S’good being short sighted,” he said. “It’d be in focus – if I could suck it.”

This was incredibly funny, and it took some time for us to stop giggling and catch our breath.

“Let’s try,” he said brightly.

As usual, whatever Harry suggested sounded like a good idea at the time, and we discarded our boxer shorts and lay side by side.

“Well?” I asked. “What do we do?”

“We’ll need to be hard, first,” he decided. “No good to have it just flopping around while we’re trying to reach it.”

“And those extra couple of inches’ll make all the diff’rence,” I added.

So, we both reached down and stroked ourselves.

It didn’t take long before we were sporting a pair of pretty impressive erections, if I say so myself.

“Now what?” I asked turning my head to look at him.

He was thinking deeply. “Kick our legs up and over our heads, I reckon,” he said.

I nodded.

We both kicked our arses off the bed and I tried to curl up and push my legs back over my head.

“Prop your hips on your hands,” Harry said, his elbows braced beneath him and his hands pushing at his arse.

I tried holding my hips, but I think I was too tall, and my body just couldn’t curl up properly and my legs were nowhere near my face, my cock waving in the air high above me.

Harry was folded up pretty well and his knees were almost on his shoulders, his cock pointing directly at his face.

I flopped down again. “Too tall,” I said mournfully.

Harry was lifting his head and trying to shove his arse closer.

“Does it count as ‘auto’ if I give you a hand?” I asked.

He turned his head to look at me, frowning. “Like how?” he said.

“Like rolling you up a bit,” I offered.

“I think so,” he said, seriously. “’cos I’d still be doing the sucking.”

So, just to help out a friend, I went and knelt behind him.

His hands were still on his hips, and his legs were parted, a knee on each shoulder.

I helpfully put a hand on each cheek and pushed.

I knelt up a bit, to peer over and see how he was doing.

My eyes ran over him; his flushed face, with parted lips; the cords standing out in his neck as he strained upwards; his cock arching down towards his waiting mouth; his balls hanging over it; his arse in my hands, my thumbs accidentally slipping between his cheeks.

He was the hottest, most beautiful, most debauched thing I had ever seen.

And I was nineteen, naked and horny.

“Fuck, Harry,” I whispered.

I needed to touch myself, so I moved one hand to my cock and the other to cover both cheeks, letting a finger run between them and brush over his entrance.

He gasped my name and looked up at me.

I shook my head, having no words to justify what I was doing, but he moaned and opened his legs further and I gave in.

I ran my hand over his arse and balls and up the length of his cock and he moaned again.

“Harry,” I whispered and he nodded frantically.

I stroked both of us clumsily, frowning as I tried to keep up a rhythm on two cocks pointing in opposite directions and he groaned and batted my hand away, wrapping his own fingers round his shaft and tugging desperately.

I watched him avidly for a minute, touching myself and idly running my fingers over his arse until I noticed how his muscles clenched around me on every pass.

Watching his face, I traced circles round his entrance and his head tipped back on the bed, his eyes fluttering closed.

Well, that was an interesting reaction, and I just couldn’t help myself.

I dipped my head and ran my tongue between his cheeks and he cried out, his hand moving faster on his cock.

I could feel him trembling under my mouth as I licked and sucked, daring to push my tongue inside him as I stroked my cock harder.

He moaned my name over and over, and I looked down at him. His whole body was shaking and suddenly he tensed and cried out and I watched his come splatter down into his face.

“Christ,” I whispered against his skin.

He flopped down gracelessly into my lap, his legs hooking over my shoulders, his hand still moving softly, pulling aftershocks out of his body and I jerked my hand harder and faster until I climaxed, spraying over his arse and drooping cock.

He dragged his eyes open and squinted up at me and I started to panic, but he brought his hand up and looked at it in amazement, rubbing my come between his fingers.

“Fuck, Ron,” he muttered.

“Um,” I said.

Then he used the same hand to run through the come on his face and I groaned aloud.

He sat up clumsily, still half in my lap, his legs spread wide on either side of me. “Fuck,” he said again. “We have to thank Seamus.”

“Harry,” I laughed. “Doesn’t count, you didn’t suck it.”

“Never though I could,” he said, grinning widely. “I’ve tried it before. But I hoped you’d help me out with the experiment.”


My Table.