Ginger Nuts - H/R - R
Title: Ginger Nuts
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1000
Rating: R for language

Written for the first lines challenge on harry_and_ron.

The boy who stuck his finger in the dyke to keep the dam from bursting had nothing on Ron.


Ginger Nuts
****
The boy who stuck his finger in the dyke to keep the dam from bursting had nothing on Ron.

He sat and stared at his hand and Harry kept peeking at him, out of the corner of his eye, but if Harry expected him to explain himself, he had another thing coming.

Coming.

Well, that was the problem.

Harry coming with Ron’s finger thrusting into him; or, rather, that Harry blatantly and inexplicably and cruelly never came with Ron’s finger thrusting into him.

Ron glared at his hand and wiggled his fingers and glared hardest at his middle finger. He sighed and shook his head.

Harry frowned as Ron got up and stomped into the kitchen.

Ron got mugs and coffee and biscuits out of the cupboard and sniffed the milk suspiciously.

He’d been perfectly happy being confused and miserable, with no hand metaphor to focus on, until bloody Hermione came over and blathered on about how bad things were at work, and her department was about to be overwhelmed in a deluge of new legislation, and she was like the boy with his finger in the dyke.

Which had been a perfectly good opening for jokes about dykes certainly not wanting boys’ fingers inside them, followed by a perfectly good opening for Hermione to tell him some boring Muggle story.

“So, you’re holding back all this change with one finger?” Ron had asked, holding up his middle finger.

“Change can be good,” Hermione had said, as Harry said “Forefinger, surely?”

And the three of them had stared at Ron’s middle finger, and Ron had stifled a groan at the thought of the change that his middle finger longed for.

Because it wasn’t the rest of him.

No.

For reasons best known only to the middle finger on his right hand, it wanted to slide between Harry’s arse cheeks and circle his hole and slip inside him and thrust slowly in and out of his body as Harry writhed beneath him.

Although, to be fair, the other fingers weren’t so sweet and innocent, either.

His thumb and forefinger had this thing about twisting Harry’s nipples.

Even his ring and little finger were in on the act, and would slip between his legs and caress his balls while his three totally degenerate fingers stroked his shaft.

And made him think of Harry.

It definitely all started with his hand.

He watched his stupid, shirt-lifting, arse-probing, wishful-wanking hand making two cups of coffee and pick them up, and he walked back into the lounge with a newly-opened packet of biscuits dangling from his mouth.

“Bifquix,” he muttered as he handed Harry the coffee cup that was in his far more innocent left hand.

Harry caught the packet of biscuits as they fell and grunted his thanks, still frowning, as Ron sat down and flexed the fingers wrapped round his cup.

Ron watched as Harry helped himself to a biscuit and held it between a finger and thumb that never gave any indication that they wanted to wrap around Ron’s cock and move slowly up and down his shaft.

He shook his head, like a dog coming out of the water, to rid himself of this image, and glumly watched Harry dunk his biscuit and deftly transfer it to his mouth.

“Ginger Nut?” Harry said.

“What?” Ron asked, blinking and crossing his legs as his ginger nuts twitched.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry demanded.

Ron took a biscuit and stuffed it in his mouth, whole.

“Nuffink,” he muttered, round a mouthful of softening Ginger Nut.

Harry took a biscuit and dunked, transferred, and sucked his fingers clean and Ron groaned at the thought of lying on his bed with those wetted fingers probing his arse, as Harry knelt between his splayed legs and bent and filled his mouth with more ginger nuts.

“Not nothing,” Harry said. “You groaned.”

“I… I thought you’d taken the last biscuit,” Ron said.

They both looked at the packet of biscuits. Precisely three had been eaten.

Harry picked it up and sprawled back on the couch, frowning at Ron and holding the packet between his legs, like a plastic sheathed cock with three biscuits missing.

He stroked it, idly, as Ron tried not to whimper.

“What’s wrong?” Harry repeated.

“Why d’you always buy Ginger Nuts, anyway?” Ron asked desperately. “They fall to pieces far too quickly, in a cuppa.”

“Are you saying they suffer from premature mastication?” Harry sniggered.

“What?” Ron squeaked.

“Joke,” Harry said. “Funny joke. They lose their stiffness too soon…”

“Right,” Ron said tightly, getting to his feet. “And flood your mouth with… with…”

“Soggy biscuit, actually,” Harry said, leaping up and grabbing Ron by the arm. “Since when can I not make crude jokes?”

“Since… since…” Ron looked down at Harry’s hand and huffed as the fingers flexed and dug into his skin and he thought about them flexing inside him, and the look on Harry’s face as he’d lean over him and…. “Since I…”

“Ron, shush,” Harry whispered, tugging on his arm to pull him closer and pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Harry?” Ron breathed. “Since when do we…”

“Since you… you know…” Harry looked nervous. “Since Hermione said you, um.”

“I um?” Ron asked.

“I do, too,” Harry assured him.

“You… um?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Harry groaned.

“And you’d?”

“If you’d like me to.”

Ron blinked.

“Oh, I’d like you to,” he assured him.

“I always buy Ginger Nuts because they make me smile and make me think of you,” Harry said swiftly. “Make me think of you, naked, and Hermione said you want to… you want to…”

“Stick my fingers up your arse,” Ron growled, stepping closer, bending, and clumsily covering Harry’s mouth with his own.

Harry’s mouth was sweet and tasted of tea and Ginger Nuts and Ron groaned into it as Harry’s hand slipped between his legs, cupping his aching cock and stroking it.

“I know we only ate three biscuits,” Harry murmured. “But c’n I open a new packet?”