shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-05-24 01:00:00 |
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The Real Thing - H/R - NC-17
Title: The Real Thing
Author:shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 2000
Rating: NC-17
April Fool’s day gives me migraines – I put so much effort and tooth grinding into not believing anything anyone says… and we don’t even have the Twins to make things bearable, anymore, just an empty Fredshaped hole.
So.
I’m not quite sure why I have written Harry/Ron for George’s birthday. George is present, and a bit of an enabler….
Ah, he won’t have a happy birthday, no matter what I do.
The Real Thing
****
To… touch someone when they’re not aware of it is just an appalling breach of trust.
To touch your best mate, unforgivable.
Not to touch their hair; Harry fell asleep on the couch last night and I brushed his hair back off his face and I didn’t think I’d violated him.
He muttered something that sounded like ‘cut the crusts off, Terry’ and started snoring until I nudged him in the ribs.
Touching someone’s hair, or stroking their face, or even pressing a kiss to their forehead when they’re asleep, well, that’s fine. As long as it’s a friend.
It’s something you might be a squidge embarrassed to do if they were awake, maybe, but if they woke up and caught you, they wouldn’t go mental.
That’s not the kind of touching I’m talking about.
I’m talking about having touched someone’s cock.
Harry.
Harry’s cock.
Sort of.
It’s an appalling thing to do, and originally I was only being, well, curious. I just wanted to see what it felt like, if it felt any different to my own. Not an excuse. Still a terrible, terrible thing to do.
But it was just there, and I touched it. And I instantly felt two other things.
No, not his balls.
I felt utterly guilty, and so, so good.
I hadn’t expected it to feel good; I had just sort of wondered.
I am such an idiot.
It was hot and heavy and grew hard in my hand, and I eased back the foreskin and ran my thumb over the head and it felt so fucking good and I was so confused.
Did it feel good because it was a cock, or his cock, or my cock.
Ah.
Yes.
Well.
My cock.
Yes, I’d Polyjuiced into Harry to protect him, and I’d fought and flown with Tonks and we’d finally made it to Auntie Muriel’s and we’d missed the Portkey and Tonks was dealing with her and I went out into the garden and sat on the wall and rested my hands on my thighs and.
And Harry’s cock was right there.
And I touched it.
I have no idea why; I wasn’t queer, or anything.
Not at the time.
I’d shared dorms and showers for six years, without taking more than an occasional comparative glance at another bloke’s tackle.
Until I touched Harry’s.
And it felt wonderful – but then I was on the other end of it, or inside him, or something.
And, at the thought of being inside him, his cock had leapt in my hand and I’d squeezed it just right and we’d come all over my fingers.
Our fingers.
Harry’s fingers.
Does my head in, honestly, trying to keep it straight.
Straight.
Almost makes me wish I’d just walked up to him in the showers and taken hold of it and examined it right in front of him.
Just knelt down to look closer and explored it, because then, at least, he’d know, right?
OK, he’d have punched me in the face, but at least he’d know that I'm a perverted bastard who touches other blokes’ cocks.
As is, he thinks I'm a wonderful friend, best mate, blood brother.
Fuck.
Thinks I fought for him, followed him, saved his life.
Thinks I managed to destroy the Horcrux before it said any more about my feelings for Hermione.
Has no idea it had been crawling into my head and dissecting my memory of wanking Harry off.
Fuck.
I had no idea what to do.
Luckily matters – but not Harry’s bits - were taken out of my hands.
We’re a year into Auror training and we share a cottage in Hogsmeade and I help George in the shop at weekends and it’s knackering and Hermione thinks I’m overdoing things, but she doesn’t realise why I feel awkward when left alone with Harry.
She doesn’t realise why I pushed her away after the war.
She doesn’t realise a lot of things.
I’ll go insane if I don’t tell someone, but I didn’t expect this.
This being George.
Harry and his cock arrived at the shop after closing time on Saturday, to drag me out for a few drinks. Well, I assumed he has his cock with him; it’s just that that is how I have come to think of him.
All the time.
I tried to plead a lot of shelf stocking being needed before morning, but Harry and his cock were firm on the matter.
I hoped his cock wasn’t firm.
Harry was firm that I needed an evening off, and he dragged me upstairs to George’s flat, to be firm with my boss.
Although, he really needn’t have been, because George was already firm, and halfway down Lee Jordan’s throat.
I made a very embarrassing noise and tried to hide behind Harry, which is pathetic, because I could still see over the top of his head; George gasped ‘fuck’ and Lee hummed and slurped and George gasped ‘Harry’ and Lee paused and glared up at him and George said ‘no, Harry’ and pulled his bits free and covered himself with a cushion.
“Oh,” Harry said calmly, “sorry.”
Lee sat back on his heels at George’s feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and looking Harry boldly in the knees.
“Harry,” George said for the third time.
“So,” I muttered. “Please tell me this is not how it looks.”
George snorted.
“’Course it’s how it looks,” Lee said, with a wry smile.
“But…” I said.
“C’mon,” George said, zipping up. “It’s not like you don’t.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
“No, you,” Lee said, getting to his feet and aimlessly tidying mail order catalogues.
“Me?”
“You,” George huffed. “Both of you.”
“Both of me?” I echoed weakly.
George gave me a Look.
“You and Harry,” he said. “It’s not like you’ve never accessed the Chosen Cock.”
“George!” Harry complained.
“Oh, come on,” Lee said. “Look me in the eye and tell me he never touched your cock.”
“He never touched my cock,” Harry said clearly.
“Not bad,” George said. “Ron? Look me in the eye and tell me you never touched Harry’s cock.”
I blinked stupidly at him.
“Go on, Ron,” Harry said encouragingly. “Don’t let them make this about us – they’re the ones who’ve been caught.”
“Um,” I said helplessly, not looking George in the eye.
“Ron?” Harry said.
“I don’t think it counts,” I said weakly.
“What’s that, Ron?” George asked, his hand cupping his ear. “Didn’t quite catch that…”
“I didn’t touch…”
“Didn’t touch what, Ron?” Lee asked, a huge smile on his face.
“Didn’t touch that freckle?” George asked casually.
“How d’you know about that…” I stopped abruptly.
“Ron? George?” Harry look back and forth between us, bewildered.
“Oh, come on, Harry,” Lee said, enjoying himself far too much for someone who’d just been caught sucking off his best mate.
“What?” Harry asked, looking like he really didn’t want to know.
“They Polyjuiced into you,” Lee said. “Did you really expect them not to look?”
Harry made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“I wish I had the bottle to ask Hermione if she looked,” George sighed.
“She looked,” I muttered and George looked like his Christmas had come early.
“You know Bill looked,” Lee said confidently.
“Bill?” Harry protested. “Bill didn’t have… access.”
“Bill was engaged to it,” George laughed.
“You didn’t…” Harry stammered. “You didn’t all… Ron?”
“It was right there…” I trailed off helplessly and fled down the stairs, with Harry and his cock on my heels and George’s ‘it was very nice’ floating after us.
I reached the shop and Disapparated just as his hand closed on my wrist and I am crap at Disapparating under pressure, anyway, and we landed in the cottage in a heap, and I’d ripped off another fingernail and had a hand full of blood, and I swore loudly and Harry set his jaw and didn’t shout at me until he’d healed me.
He finally sat back and looked at the blood on his hands, before sighing heavily and Tergeoing us clean.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why?”
“I… shouldn’t’ve.”
“No, not why are you sorry,” he said, looking up at me. “Why d’you do it?”
“It was… there?” I said helplessly.
“And you… examined it?”
“Um.”
“Ron?”
“I wanked,” I said bleakly.
Harry blinked at me twelve times; I counted.
“You wanked with my…”
“…equipment,” I agreed.
“Show me,” Harry said.
“What?” I squeaked.
“It’s only fair,” he said inexplicably.
“Fair?” I spluttered.
Harry nodded significantly at my lap and I automatically undid my robes and took myself in hand.
“But, Harry…”
“Hush,” he said.
Harry frowned slightly as he watched me wank; his head tilted to one side, his thumb running back and forth over his bottom lip.
I usually have issues about performing in public, but this was nothing like Quidditch. This was my Harry nodding encouragingly as I whimpered and arched into my hand and came, messily, all over my fingers.
“Interesting,” he said.
“Harry?”
“And that’s how you did it to me, is it?” he asked.
“B…wha? Um. What?”
“Because that wouldn’t get me off,” he said blandly. “No offence.”
“None taken,” I said weakly.
“I’m not saying you’re a crap wanker,” he said. “Just that how did that rhythm make my body come?”
He shouldn’t ask me deep questions, not when I’ve just come for him and my brain is full of chemicals and my body is trying to fall asleep.
“It made me come, because it was your cock,” I admitted.
“It’s not that special,” Harry said, shrugging.
“It is to me,” I said stupidly.
He bit his lip.
“Ron?” he said.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, suddenly wide awake.
“Ron? Are you saying you… like me?”
“Do you want me to say I… like you?”
“Is it the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”
“I might.”
He looked steadily at me.
“You still did something wrong,” he said sternly, and my heart sank. “Let me show you what you should have done.”
And he released his cock from his robes, and it was already hard and I gasped as I watched him do it properly.
“Think you’ve got the idea?” he asked.
I whimpered my yes.
He shrugged his robes off his shoulders and sat back on the couch, his legs spread, his cock arching towards me. I fell to my knees before him and reached for it; it felt different to how I remembered, but I’d used his hand last time, hadn’t I?
Concentrating hard, I copied the rhythm he’d been using and his breath hitched and I looked up at him and his amazing eyes bored into mine and he groaned and reached for me.
“You’re sure?” he asked, as I struggled out of my robes and we both kicked off boxers and trainers.
“Fuck, yes,” I said, pushing him full length on the couch and sprawling on top of him.
“What cha doing?” he asked, raising one knee and hooking his leg over mine as I drove against him.
“No idea,” I said, my reawakened cock grinding against his hip. “Just… need it.”
“Good idea,” he said, reaching between us to align our cocks and hold them together.
“Fuck,” I croaked, gazing down at him. “Brilliant idea.”
“Go f’rit, then,” he moaned.
I nodded sharply, taking my weight on my elbows as I rutted against him.
“Fantastic,” I gasped. “Who needs girly parts?”
His hands slid round me, grabbing my arse and writhing under me.
“Brilliant,” he said. “We must thank George.”
“Please don’t mention my brother when we’re naked,” I begged.
“Which one?” he gasped.
“Any one,” I said. “Fuck, Harry!”
I squealed as I climaxed, but he didn’t laugh; he thrust upwards, arching off the couch as he came, and I watched his face, screwed up in joyous pain.
“Yes,” he crowed, his chest heaving.
I looked down at his cock as it pulsed between us.
“That is how it’s done,” he said faintly, stretching and squelching beneath me. “Accept no substitutes.”
“Never again,” I promised.
Title: The Real Thing
Author:
shocolatePairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 2000
Rating: NC-17
April Fool’s day gives me migraines – I put so much effort and tooth grinding into not believing anything anyone says… and we don’t even have the Twins to make things bearable, anymore, just an empty Fredshaped hole.
So.
I’m not quite sure why I have written Harry/Ron for George’s birthday. George is present, and a bit of an enabler….
Ah, he won’t have a happy birthday, no matter what I do.
The Real Thing
****
To… touch someone when they’re not aware of it is just an appalling breach of trust.
To touch your best mate, unforgivable.
Not to touch their hair; Harry fell asleep on the couch last night and I brushed his hair back off his face and I didn’t think I’d violated him.
He muttered something that sounded like ‘cut the crusts off, Terry’ and started snoring until I nudged him in the ribs.
Touching someone’s hair, or stroking their face, or even pressing a kiss to their forehead when they’re asleep, well, that’s fine. As long as it’s a friend.
It’s something you might be a squidge embarrassed to do if they were awake, maybe, but if they woke up and caught you, they wouldn’t go mental.
That’s not the kind of touching I’m talking about.
I’m talking about having touched someone’s cock.
Harry.
Harry’s cock.
Sort of.
It’s an appalling thing to do, and originally I was only being, well, curious. I just wanted to see what it felt like, if it felt any different to my own. Not an excuse. Still a terrible, terrible thing to do.
But it was just there, and I touched it. And I instantly felt two other things.
No, not his balls.
I felt utterly guilty, and so, so good.
I hadn’t expected it to feel good; I had just sort of wondered.
I am such an idiot.
It was hot and heavy and grew hard in my hand, and I eased back the foreskin and ran my thumb over the head and it felt so fucking good and I was so confused.
Did it feel good because it was a cock, or his cock, or my cock.
Ah.
Yes.
Well.
My cock.
Yes, I’d Polyjuiced into Harry to protect him, and I’d fought and flown with Tonks and we’d finally made it to Auntie Muriel’s and we’d missed the Portkey and Tonks was dealing with her and I went out into the garden and sat on the wall and rested my hands on my thighs and.
And Harry’s cock was right there.
And I touched it.
I have no idea why; I wasn’t queer, or anything.
Not at the time.
I’d shared dorms and showers for six years, without taking more than an occasional comparative glance at another bloke’s tackle.
Until I touched Harry’s.
And it felt wonderful – but then I was on the other end of it, or inside him, or something.
And, at the thought of being inside him, his cock had leapt in my hand and I’d squeezed it just right and we’d come all over my fingers.
Our fingers.
Harry’s fingers.
Does my head in, honestly, trying to keep it straight.
Straight.
Almost makes me wish I’d just walked up to him in the showers and taken hold of it and examined it right in front of him.
Just knelt down to look closer and explored it, because then, at least, he’d know, right?
OK, he’d have punched me in the face, but at least he’d know that I'm a perverted bastard who touches other blokes’ cocks.
As is, he thinks I'm a wonderful friend, best mate, blood brother.
Fuck.
Thinks I fought for him, followed him, saved his life.
Thinks I managed to destroy the Horcrux before it said any more about my feelings for Hermione.
Has no idea it had been crawling into my head and dissecting my memory of wanking Harry off.
Fuck.
I had no idea what to do.
Luckily matters – but not Harry’s bits - were taken out of my hands.
We’re a year into Auror training and we share a cottage in Hogsmeade and I help George in the shop at weekends and it’s knackering and Hermione thinks I’m overdoing things, but she doesn’t realise why I feel awkward when left alone with Harry.
She doesn’t realise why I pushed her away after the war.
She doesn’t realise a lot of things.
I’ll go insane if I don’t tell someone, but I didn’t expect this.
This being George.
Harry and his cock arrived at the shop after closing time on Saturday, to drag me out for a few drinks. Well, I assumed he has his cock with him; it’s just that that is how I have come to think of him.
All the time.
I tried to plead a lot of shelf stocking being needed before morning, but Harry and his cock were firm on the matter.
I hoped his cock wasn’t firm.
Harry was firm that I needed an evening off, and he dragged me upstairs to George’s flat, to be firm with my boss.
Although, he really needn’t have been, because George was already firm, and halfway down Lee Jordan’s throat.
I made a very embarrassing noise and tried to hide behind Harry, which is pathetic, because I could still see over the top of his head; George gasped ‘fuck’ and Lee hummed and slurped and George gasped ‘Harry’ and Lee paused and glared up at him and George said ‘no, Harry’ and pulled his bits free and covered himself with a cushion.
“Oh,” Harry said calmly, “sorry.”
Lee sat back on his heels at George’s feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and looking Harry boldly in the knees.
“Harry,” George said for the third time.
“So,” I muttered. “Please tell me this is not how it looks.”
George snorted.
“’Course it’s how it looks,” Lee said, with a wry smile.
“But…” I said.
“C’mon,” George said, zipping up. “It’s not like you don’t.”
“Me?” I squeaked.
“No, you,” Lee said, getting to his feet and aimlessly tidying mail order catalogues.
“Me?”
“You,” George huffed. “Both of you.”
“Both of me?” I echoed weakly.
George gave me a Look.
“You and Harry,” he said. “It’s not like you’ve never accessed the Chosen Cock.”
“George!” Harry complained.
“Oh, come on,” Lee said. “Look me in the eye and tell me he never touched your cock.”
“He never touched my cock,” Harry said clearly.
“Not bad,” George said. “Ron? Look me in the eye and tell me you never touched Harry’s cock.”
I blinked stupidly at him.
“Go on, Ron,” Harry said encouragingly. “Don’t let them make this about us – they’re the ones who’ve been caught.”
“Um,” I said helplessly, not looking George in the eye.
“Ron?” Harry said.
“I don’t think it counts,” I said weakly.
“What’s that, Ron?” George asked, his hand cupping his ear. “Didn’t quite catch that…”
“I didn’t touch…”
“Didn’t touch what, Ron?” Lee asked, a huge smile on his face.
“Didn’t touch that freckle?” George asked casually.
“How d’you know about that…” I stopped abruptly.
“Ron? George?” Harry look back and forth between us, bewildered.
“Oh, come on, Harry,” Lee said, enjoying himself far too much for someone who’d just been caught sucking off his best mate.
“What?” Harry asked, looking like he really didn’t want to know.
“They Polyjuiced into you,” Lee said. “Did you really expect them not to look?”
Harry made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“I wish I had the bottle to ask Hermione if she looked,” George sighed.
“She looked,” I muttered and George looked like his Christmas had come early.
“You know Bill looked,” Lee said confidently.
“Bill?” Harry protested. “Bill didn’t have… access.”
“Bill was engaged to it,” George laughed.
“You didn’t…” Harry stammered. “You didn’t all… Ron?”
“It was right there…” I trailed off helplessly and fled down the stairs, with Harry and his cock on my heels and George’s ‘it was very nice’ floating after us.
I reached the shop and Disapparated just as his hand closed on my wrist and I am crap at Disapparating under pressure, anyway, and we landed in the cottage in a heap, and I’d ripped off another fingernail and had a hand full of blood, and I swore loudly and Harry set his jaw and didn’t shout at me until he’d healed me.
He finally sat back and looked at the blood on his hands, before sighing heavily and Tergeoing us clean.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why?”
“I… shouldn’t’ve.”
“No, not why are you sorry,” he said, looking up at me. “Why d’you do it?”
“It was… there?” I said helplessly.
“And you… examined it?”
“Um.”
“Ron?”
“I wanked,” I said bleakly.
Harry blinked at me twelve times; I counted.
“You wanked with my…”
“…equipment,” I agreed.
“Show me,” Harry said.
“What?” I squeaked.
“It’s only fair,” he said inexplicably.
“Fair?” I spluttered.
Harry nodded significantly at my lap and I automatically undid my robes and took myself in hand.
“But, Harry…”
“Hush,” he said.
Harry frowned slightly as he watched me wank; his head tilted to one side, his thumb running back and forth over his bottom lip.
I usually have issues about performing in public, but this was nothing like Quidditch. This was my Harry nodding encouragingly as I whimpered and arched into my hand and came, messily, all over my fingers.
“Interesting,” he said.
“Harry?”
“And that’s how you did it to me, is it?” he asked.
“B…wha? Um. What?”
“Because that wouldn’t get me off,” he said blandly. “No offence.”
“None taken,” I said weakly.
“I’m not saying you’re a crap wanker,” he said. “Just that how did that rhythm make my body come?”
He shouldn’t ask me deep questions, not when I’ve just come for him and my brain is full of chemicals and my body is trying to fall asleep.
“It made me come, because it was your cock,” I admitted.
“It’s not that special,” Harry said, shrugging.
“It is to me,” I said stupidly.
He bit his lip.
“Ron?” he said.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, suddenly wide awake.
“Ron? Are you saying you… like me?”
“Do you want me to say I… like you?”
“Is it the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”
“I might.”
He looked steadily at me.
“You still did something wrong,” he said sternly, and my heart sank. “Let me show you what you should have done.”
And he released his cock from his robes, and it was already hard and I gasped as I watched him do it properly.
“Think you’ve got the idea?” he asked.
I whimpered my yes.
He shrugged his robes off his shoulders and sat back on the couch, his legs spread, his cock arching towards me. I fell to my knees before him and reached for it; it felt different to how I remembered, but I’d used his hand last time, hadn’t I?
Concentrating hard, I copied the rhythm he’d been using and his breath hitched and I looked up at him and his amazing eyes bored into mine and he groaned and reached for me.
“You’re sure?” he asked, as I struggled out of my robes and we both kicked off boxers and trainers.
“Fuck, yes,” I said, pushing him full length on the couch and sprawling on top of him.
“What cha doing?” he asked, raising one knee and hooking his leg over mine as I drove against him.
“No idea,” I said, my reawakened cock grinding against his hip. “Just… need it.”
“Good idea,” he said, reaching between us to align our cocks and hold them together.
“Fuck,” I croaked, gazing down at him. “Brilliant idea.”
“Go f’rit, then,” he moaned.
I nodded sharply, taking my weight on my elbows as I rutted against him.
“Fantastic,” I gasped. “Who needs girly parts?”
His hands slid round me, grabbing my arse and writhing under me.
“Brilliant,” he said. “We must thank George.”
“Please don’t mention my brother when we’re naked,” I begged.
“Which one?” he gasped.
“Any one,” I said. “Fuck, Harry!”
I squealed as I climaxed, but he didn’t laugh; he thrust upwards, arching off the couch as he came, and I watched his face, screwed up in joyous pain.
“Yes,” he crowed, his chest heaving.
I looked down at his cock as it pulsed between us.
“That is how it’s done,” he said faintly, stretching and squelching beneath me. “Accept no substitutes.”
“Never again,” I promised.