shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-06-01 01:00:00 |
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Handcuffs - H/R - NC-17
Title: Handcuffs
Author:shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 2432
Rating: NC-17
My day again, my lovelymagicofisis… I picked Christmas Day because I am such a bah humbug, and will need cheering up with attractive arses as much as anyone else!
I don't know what else you got for Christmas, but I cannot imagine anything nicer than Harry and Ron rubbing their bits together.
Many thanks to the wonderfulmrsquizzical for the blue and purple beta.
Handcuffs
****
I sometimes think it was a bloody good thing we were just pawns in Dumbledore's ridiculously complicated plans, because we obviously do better when relying on outrageous coincidence and couldn't have actually worked it all out by ourselves.
I mean.
First, we buggered up our private lives, and then our professional, when.
Well.
I was the first one to cock things up, and I should probably have known I would, what with the my whole life being run by coincidence thing – cocked things up, buggered things up.
More than a coincidence.
A clue.
Ginny claims I'd become obsessed with it, by the time she broke things off – and when I say 'broke things off', there was no need for her to clamp down on it and throw me off like that, it bloody hurt.
She's exaggerating; I wasn't obsessed.
Yes, I asked if we could try it. Suggested. Not nagged, or begged, whatever she says. Just suggested, if I happened to be taking her from behind. Which, yes, happened more and more often, toward the end, 'though I reckon that that's just another coincidence.
She'd eventually agreed to my suggestion, and it had all gone horribly wrong and she'd made far too much of it and we'd split up soon afterwards. We told people it was because we'd been too young when we got together; I told Ron it had been perfectly mutual and amicable.
Ginny says she told Hermione it was because I was obsessed with anal sex, but I think she's probably joking.
And I don't have an obsessive personality, anyway.
So, I was free to concentrate on my final year Auror training and I worked really hard. No time for 'relationships', anyway.
Ron was juggling training, the shop and Hermione, and something was gonna give. Being Ron, he gave things a helping hand.
Hermione would never have approved of the dolls that he and George designed. Most blokes can see that a sex doll Charmed to anticipate your desires, and cater to them, is a Good Thing.
Most witches at least pretend to disapprove.
They might raise an extra eyebrow at a model Charmed to anticipate your desires, and delay gratifying them, but only she'd become hysterical at it being nicknamed The Hermione.
So.
We were single, me and Ron.
We'd worked hard, together, for nearly three years, together, and we were partners, together.
I love my job. It's fantastic. All we'd ever wanted, even if there was far more paperwork involved than we'd expected.
We were close to being fully qualified Aurors – only up against a bog standard level of evil - and look how we stuffed things up.
We were sent on a routine surveillance mission and accidentally surveilled Rodolphus Lestrange and tripped one of his wards and ended up handcuffed in a circular room with high windows. Not handcuffed to each other; it was actually more comfortable than when we'd been tied up at Malfoy Manor. For me. But my hands were handcuffed in front of my body, and Ron's behind his. I don't know if this was deliberate – maybe it was easier to twist Ron's arms behind him, as he struggled, him being so tall.
Anyway.
It didn't matter, at first; we sat, side by side, on the room's only bed, bitching about our botched mission.
"Does getting captured by idiots blow our probation?" I wondered.
"Blows mine," Ron muttered, "not the Chosen One’s."
"Don't think I can count on that this time," I said.
"Oh, who cares about the job," Ron said. "I'm pretty sure getting captured by idiots blows ever being on a chocolate frog card."
I snorted.
"That's your priority, is it?" I asked.
"Everyone should have an ambition," he said solemnly. "One beyond not getting killed."
"We're not getting killed," I said firmly, getting up and striding around the room for the twentieth time, kicking at the door and stepping over the chamber pot. The high windows were darkening and torches had flared into life overhead, and I vaguely needed to pee, but I felt a bit odd using the pot in front of someone, even if it was Ron.
Ron, one of seven children, didn't have the same issues.
"I've gotta pee," he said calmly.
“Um, right,” I said, “I’ll just... well, there really isn’t anywhere I can...”
“Harry,” he said.
“Oh, I know: it’s us. I’ll just turn my back.”
“Harry,” he said, in a super patient voice.
“What?”
“While I do what?” he asked.
“While you pee,” I said.
He looked down at his crotch, so so did I.
“I’m pretty sure you know how to pee,” I said firmly.
“I’m pretty sure my hands are handcuffed behind my back,” he said pointedly.
“Shit,” I said.
“Maybe later,” he said, shrugging helplessly.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Right,” I said. “Us. No problem.”
I went over to the chamber pot and bent to pick it up; as I turned, clutching it to my chest, Ron was looking at me with a strange expression on his face.
“Sorry?” he said.
“Pppfrtt,” I said airily. “It’s only us.”
The three of us.
Me. And Ron. And Ron’s penis.
Not that I'd ever been in a very penisy place. I don’t remember thinking of Ron’s cock as more than… part of the furniture. Yes, I’d given more than a passing thought to his arse, but it wasn’t my fault I’d accessed a remarkably similar one; could picture just how the freckles faded to creamy white skin and biteable cheeks.
Picturing almost any member of his family naked would be enough to take me to my toned, flexing happy place.
Which was probably not the best thing to be thinking about as I put the chamber pot on the bed and reached for the button of Ron’s jeans.
“C’mon, then,” I said briskly, unbuttoning and unzipping and tugging them down his endless legs. “Let’s do this.”
He sighed and turned to face the pot and I pulled down his boxers and stood beside him and adjusted my handcuffs and reached awkwardly for his... equipment. It wasn’t a big deal – it was just the cock I’d grown up with, wasn’t it? The cock nestling in pubes far too similar to the ones that had dumped me, but I tried not to think about that.
It's not like I'd had actual issues with Ginny's pubes, or that which lurked within.
I took his cock carefully between my rock steady fingers and pointed it at the pot. It felt strange and familiar and I was far too flustered to cope well with the contradiction.
It was a cock; I have a cock; I touch cock every day. It was Ron; I have a Ron; I touch Ron every day.
It was Ron’s cock.
My hip was pressed to his and the back of my left hand was touching his pubes and I was glad that it wasn't the moment for small talk.
Because I wanted to kneel down, behind him, and sink my teeth into his arse.
I wanted to push him face down on the bed and bury my face between his cheeks.
Far more than usual.
Ron sighed happily as I took him in hand and his shoulders relaxed as he let go and I carefully didn’t lean sideways and look down at the pale, perfect arse that was facing the room.
Luckily, I wasn’t standing behind him, being tempted to press my inappropriately stirring cock up against it.
"Bet you never thought you'd hold my cock," Ron said conversationally.
"Why would I want to do that?" I said stupidly, my fingers tightening.
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked, wincing slightly, and turning his face to look at me.
"I don't want to do that," I said, looking away and helplessly down at his arse which clenched as he finished peeing and jerked his hips forward.
Automatically shaking the unexpected cock in my hand as he finished peeing and my head to refute the ridiculous claim, I opened my mouth to speak. Ron turned to face me and he was standing so close and I tipped my head up to see his face and his eyes were narrowed and the tip of his tongue ran over his lips and I was still holding his cock.
“Never heard anything about you and cocks,” he confirmed.
“Good,” I said.
He stepped even closer, trapping my hand between our bodies; I squeezed him as my wrist pressed against my aching cock.
“Arse man,” he gasped.
“What?” I asked faintly.
“I heard you’re an arse man.”
I shook my head stupidly and tried to step away from him, and his hands were handcuffed behind his back, but he somehow managed to prevent me.
Because, somehow, I was still holding his cock.
“Hermione says,” he said conversationally.
“What?”
“That you’re an arse man.”
“Hermione?” I spluttered.
“Says that Ginny broke up with you because you were obsessed with anal sex.”
I made a ridiculous, gurgling noise, gazing up stupidly into his face.
“Are you gonna punch me?” I asked.
“No,” he said patiently.
“Why?”
“Well,” he said. “Partly because my hands are handcuffed behind my back; partly because I’ve known for months. And partly because you are still holding my cock.”
I looked down at my hand, automatically running my thumb over the head and hearing Ron’s breath catch in his throat.
“And this stops you… because?”
“Because… I like it?” he said softly.
“Like it?” I whispered, looking up at him.
He shrugged.
I gurgled again.
He thrust into my hand.
I fell to my knees.
“Harry?” he asked, as I stroked his cock and leant forward to lap at it. “You… you’re… arse man…”
“Have to earn it,” I said vaguely, opening my mouth, taking the head between my lips and sucking.
“Harry,” he breathed.
It's a good thing Ron cares about me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, because I don't think I did a good enough job to earn access to that spectacular arse. I took him too deep in my throat and gagged and he found it hard to balance, with his hands behind his back, so I huffed impatiently and shoved at his thighs, sitting him on the edge of the bed and sucking industriously on his cock.
He tasted fantastic and I groaned and he moaned my name and sprawled awkwardly back on the bed and thrust into my mouth and came.
I let his cock slip from my mouth and swallowed and was suddenly self-conscious about having had my best mate's cock in my mouth. I mean, he must have enjoyed it – he'd come, I could still taste it – but I hadn't asked if I could take his cock in my mouth, and I sat back on my heels, frowning at his cock as it glistened and curled up happily in its ginger nest.
"Um," I said.
"I should bloody well hope so," Ron said, proving he knew me better than I knew myself.
"You…" I asked.
"You only had to ask," he said, rolling onto his front and parting his legs.
"Ron?" I said.
He huffed and turned his hands awkwardly within the cuffs and held his cheeks apart. I made a noise that would have been humiliating in front of – or, rather, behind – anyone else and fell upon him, my face buried between his cheeks, my tongue running over and over his hole, my handcuffed wrists bending painfully and fumbling for my belt buckle.
He gurgled as my tongue breeched him and pressed back against me and I released my cock from my boxers and tugged hard on it as I licked him. It was a good thing my mouth was busy, or I'd have spoiled the moment by babbling something about how he was so much more generous with his arse than his sister had ever been.
I was not going to last, so I staggered to my feet, standing over him as he held his cheeks apart, and I squeezed my balls with one hand and wanked with the other, biting back my cry as I came in ribbons over his arse. My shaky legs buckled and I knelt, running my fingertips over his cheeks, rubbing my come into his skin, down between his cheeks and into his hole.
He half turned and slithered off the bed, landing across my lap.
"Arse man," I croaked.
He grinned and kissed me.
"Next time you can…" He waggled his eyebrows and nodded significantly.
"Really?" I asked.
"Soon as we get home," he said, bracing his back against the bed and trying to struggle to his feet, before tipping forward and pressing his no longer sleepy cock into my face.
"D'we really have to wait?" I asked, nuzzling at it.
"Yes," said a deep voice in the doorway.
The only weapon to hand was a used chamber pot, so I grabbed it and hurled it at the intruder, as I swung awkwardly around on my knees.
I knelt, my hands clasped in front of my cock; Ron stood close behind me, his erection poking me in the back of my head.
"I have a Department to run," Chief Auror Robards snapped, kicking the broken chamber pot away and shaking the pee off his robes. "I have seen more than enough and I am not going to wait for another round. You have both spectacularly failed this exercise, and I cannot submit a report that includes… that… you… We'll say no more about this. Finish… what you were doing at home. Your final training exercise will be rescheduled."
He turned and strode out of the room, the wide open door revealing a view of a corridor in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Bastard could have undone the handcuffs," Ron complained weakly, sitting back on the bed.
"Ron," I said. "We… it… this was… not real…"
I stood and managed to pull my boxers and jeans up and make myself vaguely presentable.
Ron looked down at his drooping cock.
"The mission, yeah," he said, "but not everything, right?"
"Absolutely," I said emphatically, kneeling at his feet and looking up into his worried face.
He smiled and stood and I helped him dress and we sheepishly slunk out of the room, to find someone to release us and give us back our wands.
I had a new mission.
My boss had told me to go home and fuck Ron's glorious arse.
I love my job. It's fantastic. All we'd ever wanted.
Title: Handcuffs
Author:
shocolatePairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 2432
Rating: NC-17
My day again, my lovely
magicofisis… I picked Christmas Day because I am such a bah humbug, and will need cheering up with attractive arses as much as anyone else!I don't know what else you got for Christmas, but I cannot imagine anything nicer than Harry and Ron rubbing their bits together.
Many thanks to the wonderful
mrsquizzical for the blue and purple beta.Handcuffs
****
I sometimes think it was a bloody good thing we were just pawns in Dumbledore's ridiculously complicated plans, because we obviously do better when relying on outrageous coincidence and couldn't have actually worked it all out by ourselves.
I mean.
First, we buggered up our private lives, and then our professional, when.
Well.
I was the first one to cock things up, and I should probably have known I would, what with the my whole life being run by coincidence thing – cocked things up, buggered things up.
More than a coincidence.
A clue.
Ginny claims I'd become obsessed with it, by the time she broke things off – and when I say 'broke things off', there was no need for her to clamp down on it and throw me off like that, it bloody hurt.
She's exaggerating; I wasn't obsessed.
Yes, I asked if we could try it. Suggested. Not nagged, or begged, whatever she says. Just suggested, if I happened to be taking her from behind. Which, yes, happened more and more often, toward the end, 'though I reckon that that's just another coincidence.
She'd eventually agreed to my suggestion, and it had all gone horribly wrong and she'd made far too much of it and we'd split up soon afterwards. We told people it was because we'd been too young when we got together; I told Ron it had been perfectly mutual and amicable.
Ginny says she told Hermione it was because I was obsessed with anal sex, but I think she's probably joking.
And I don't have an obsessive personality, anyway.
So, I was free to concentrate on my final year Auror training and I worked really hard. No time for 'relationships', anyway.
Ron was juggling training, the shop and Hermione, and something was gonna give. Being Ron, he gave things a helping hand.
Hermione would never have approved of the dolls that he and George designed. Most blokes can see that a sex doll Charmed to anticipate your desires, and cater to them, is a Good Thing.
Most witches at least pretend to disapprove.
They might raise an extra eyebrow at a model Charmed to anticipate your desires, and delay gratifying them, but only she'd become hysterical at it being nicknamed The Hermione.
So.
We were single, me and Ron.
We'd worked hard, together, for nearly three years, together, and we were partners, together.
I love my job. It's fantastic. All we'd ever wanted, even if there was far more paperwork involved than we'd expected.
We were close to being fully qualified Aurors – only up against a bog standard level of evil - and look how we stuffed things up.
We were sent on a routine surveillance mission and accidentally surveilled Rodolphus Lestrange and tripped one of his wards and ended up handcuffed in a circular room with high windows. Not handcuffed to each other; it was actually more comfortable than when we'd been tied up at Malfoy Manor. For me. But my hands were handcuffed in front of my body, and Ron's behind his. I don't know if this was deliberate – maybe it was easier to twist Ron's arms behind him, as he struggled, him being so tall.
Anyway.
It didn't matter, at first; we sat, side by side, on the room's only bed, bitching about our botched mission.
"Does getting captured by idiots blow our probation?" I wondered.
"Blows mine," Ron muttered, "not the Chosen One’s."
"Don't think I can count on that this time," I said.
"Oh, who cares about the job," Ron said. "I'm pretty sure getting captured by idiots blows ever being on a chocolate frog card."
I snorted.
"That's your priority, is it?" I asked.
"Everyone should have an ambition," he said solemnly. "One beyond not getting killed."
"We're not getting killed," I said firmly, getting up and striding around the room for the twentieth time, kicking at the door and stepping over the chamber pot. The high windows were darkening and torches had flared into life overhead, and I vaguely needed to pee, but I felt a bit odd using the pot in front of someone, even if it was Ron.
Ron, one of seven children, didn't have the same issues.
"I've gotta pee," he said calmly.
“Um, right,” I said, “I’ll just... well, there really isn’t anywhere I can...”
“Harry,” he said.
“Oh, I know: it’s us. I’ll just turn my back.”
“Harry,” he said, in a super patient voice.
“What?”
“While I do what?” he asked.
“While you pee,” I said.
He looked down at his crotch, so so did I.
“I’m pretty sure you know how to pee,” I said firmly.
“I’m pretty sure my hands are handcuffed behind my back,” he said pointedly.
“Shit,” I said.
“Maybe later,” he said, shrugging helplessly.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Right,” I said. “Us. No problem.”
I went over to the chamber pot and bent to pick it up; as I turned, clutching it to my chest, Ron was looking at me with a strange expression on his face.
“Sorry?” he said.
“Pppfrtt,” I said airily. “It’s only us.”
The three of us.
Me. And Ron. And Ron’s penis.
Not that I'd ever been in a very penisy place. I don’t remember thinking of Ron’s cock as more than… part of the furniture. Yes, I’d given more than a passing thought to his arse, but it wasn’t my fault I’d accessed a remarkably similar one; could picture just how the freckles faded to creamy white skin and biteable cheeks.
Picturing almost any member of his family naked would be enough to take me to my toned, flexing happy place.
Which was probably not the best thing to be thinking about as I put the chamber pot on the bed and reached for the button of Ron’s jeans.
“C’mon, then,” I said briskly, unbuttoning and unzipping and tugging them down his endless legs. “Let’s do this.”
He sighed and turned to face the pot and I pulled down his boxers and stood beside him and adjusted my handcuffs and reached awkwardly for his... equipment. It wasn’t a big deal – it was just the cock I’d grown up with, wasn’t it? The cock nestling in pubes far too similar to the ones that had dumped me, but I tried not to think about that.
It's not like I'd had actual issues with Ginny's pubes, or that which lurked within.
I took his cock carefully between my rock steady fingers and pointed it at the pot. It felt strange and familiar and I was far too flustered to cope well with the contradiction.
It was a cock; I have a cock; I touch cock every day. It was Ron; I have a Ron; I touch Ron every day.
It was Ron’s cock.
My hip was pressed to his and the back of my left hand was touching his pubes and I was glad that it wasn't the moment for small talk.
Because I wanted to kneel down, behind him, and sink my teeth into his arse.
I wanted to push him face down on the bed and bury my face between his cheeks.
Far more than usual.
Ron sighed happily as I took him in hand and his shoulders relaxed as he let go and I carefully didn’t lean sideways and look down at the pale, perfect arse that was facing the room.
Luckily, I wasn’t standing behind him, being tempted to press my inappropriately stirring cock up against it.
"Bet you never thought you'd hold my cock," Ron said conversationally.
"Why would I want to do that?" I said stupidly, my fingers tightening.
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked, wincing slightly, and turning his face to look at me.
"I don't want to do that," I said, looking away and helplessly down at his arse which clenched as he finished peeing and jerked his hips forward.
Automatically shaking the unexpected cock in my hand as he finished peeing and my head to refute the ridiculous claim, I opened my mouth to speak. Ron turned to face me and he was standing so close and I tipped my head up to see his face and his eyes were narrowed and the tip of his tongue ran over his lips and I was still holding his cock.
“Never heard anything about you and cocks,” he confirmed.
“Good,” I said.
He stepped even closer, trapping my hand between our bodies; I squeezed him as my wrist pressed against my aching cock.
“Arse man,” he gasped.
“What?” I asked faintly.
“I heard you’re an arse man.”
I shook my head stupidly and tried to step away from him, and his hands were handcuffed behind his back, but he somehow managed to prevent me.
Because, somehow, I was still holding his cock.
“Hermione says,” he said conversationally.
“What?”
“That you’re an arse man.”
“Hermione?” I spluttered.
“Says that Ginny broke up with you because you were obsessed with anal sex.”
I made a ridiculous, gurgling noise, gazing up stupidly into his face.
“Are you gonna punch me?” I asked.
“No,” he said patiently.
“Why?”
“Well,” he said. “Partly because my hands are handcuffed behind my back; partly because I’ve known for months. And partly because you are still holding my cock.”
I looked down at my hand, automatically running my thumb over the head and hearing Ron’s breath catch in his throat.
“And this stops you… because?”
“Because… I like it?” he said softly.
“Like it?” I whispered, looking up at him.
He shrugged.
I gurgled again.
He thrust into my hand.
I fell to my knees.
“Harry?” he asked, as I stroked his cock and leant forward to lap at it. “You… you’re… arse man…”
“Have to earn it,” I said vaguely, opening my mouth, taking the head between my lips and sucking.
“Harry,” he breathed.
It's a good thing Ron cares about me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, because I don't think I did a good enough job to earn access to that spectacular arse. I took him too deep in my throat and gagged and he found it hard to balance, with his hands behind his back, so I huffed impatiently and shoved at his thighs, sitting him on the edge of the bed and sucking industriously on his cock.
He tasted fantastic and I groaned and he moaned my name and sprawled awkwardly back on the bed and thrust into my mouth and came.
I let his cock slip from my mouth and swallowed and was suddenly self-conscious about having had my best mate's cock in my mouth. I mean, he must have enjoyed it – he'd come, I could still taste it – but I hadn't asked if I could take his cock in my mouth, and I sat back on my heels, frowning at his cock as it glistened and curled up happily in its ginger nest.
"Um," I said.
"I should bloody well hope so," Ron said, proving he knew me better than I knew myself.
"You…" I asked.
"You only had to ask," he said, rolling onto his front and parting his legs.
"Ron?" I said.
He huffed and turned his hands awkwardly within the cuffs and held his cheeks apart. I made a noise that would have been humiliating in front of – or, rather, behind – anyone else and fell upon him, my face buried between his cheeks, my tongue running over and over his hole, my handcuffed wrists bending painfully and fumbling for my belt buckle.
He gurgled as my tongue breeched him and pressed back against me and I released my cock from my boxers and tugged hard on it as I licked him. It was a good thing my mouth was busy, or I'd have spoiled the moment by babbling something about how he was so much more generous with his arse than his sister had ever been.
I was not going to last, so I staggered to my feet, standing over him as he held his cheeks apart, and I squeezed my balls with one hand and wanked with the other, biting back my cry as I came in ribbons over his arse. My shaky legs buckled and I knelt, running my fingertips over his cheeks, rubbing my come into his skin, down between his cheeks and into his hole.
He half turned and slithered off the bed, landing across my lap.
"Arse man," I croaked.
He grinned and kissed me.
"Next time you can…" He waggled his eyebrows and nodded significantly.
"Really?" I asked.
"Soon as we get home," he said, bracing his back against the bed and trying to struggle to his feet, before tipping forward and pressing his no longer sleepy cock into my face.
"D'we really have to wait?" I asked, nuzzling at it.
"Yes," said a deep voice in the doorway.
The only weapon to hand was a used chamber pot, so I grabbed it and hurled it at the intruder, as I swung awkwardly around on my knees.
I knelt, my hands clasped in front of my cock; Ron stood close behind me, his erection poking me in the back of my head.
"I have a Department to run," Chief Auror Robards snapped, kicking the broken chamber pot away and shaking the pee off his robes. "I have seen more than enough and I am not going to wait for another round. You have both spectacularly failed this exercise, and I cannot submit a report that includes… that… you… We'll say no more about this. Finish… what you were doing at home. Your final training exercise will be rescheduled."
He turned and strode out of the room, the wide open door revealing a view of a corridor in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Bastard could have undone the handcuffs," Ron complained weakly, sitting back on the bed.
"Ron," I said. "We… it… this was… not real…"
I stood and managed to pull my boxers and jeans up and make myself vaguely presentable.
Ron looked down at his drooping cock.
"The mission, yeah," he said, "but not everything, right?"
"Absolutely," I said emphatically, kneeling at his feet and looking up into his worried face.
He smiled and stood and I helped him dress and we sheepishly slunk out of the room, to find someone to release us and give us back our wands.
I had a new mission.
My boss had told me to go home and fuck Ron's glorious arse.
I love my job. It's fantastic. All we'd ever wanted.