Title: Relationship Reboot
Author: florahart
Characters: Ron Weasley, mentions of Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, and others
Rating: NC17
Warnings: infidelity, sexual identity crisis, first person present monologue
Themes/kinks chosen: cyber sex, a brush with drugs
Word Count: ~2675
Summary: Ron visits the psychiatricist to combat his new addiction.
Author's notes: I intended to write drug use, and then it went all haywire. Also, this is probably unsuitably unouchy for the given warnings. Sorry 'bout that.

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Relationship Reboot

So, I'm not sure I know where to begin, really, since I've never been to a …psychiatricist? before--oh, sorry. Psychiatrist. Right, but I guess you get that a lot, if you're the first one St. Mungo's has ever hired, right? I'm not stalling! At least not on purpose. And yeah, I guess the beginning, but it's kind of hard to say where that is.

All right, I'll start and if I have to go back, then I will, which, that might happen, okay? Okay, so, um.

Sorry, I had to think a minute. No, I don't need--I already took a relaxation potion. I was pretty sure this was going to be awful.

Oh, right, the beginning. Okay.

I guess it sort of started two places. I mean, it started one place, but there was a prior history thing, that… anyway. So, I guess it must have been sixth year, and I saw two blokes--Ravenclaws--doing, uh, things. In the Prefects' bath. One of them was a Pre--what? Oh, well no, I have no idea whether anyone knows about his, did you just say preferences? Oh, right. Good point. Anyway. So I saw, and I was kind of, er.

Yes, fascinated, that's a good word.

Anyway, so that was the first thing, but I mostly forgot about it. Sort of. I mean, I had, I don't know. Dreams? Maybe. It's always hard to remember exactly what went on in a dream, isn't it? But I put it out of my mind, except it kept showing right back up there when I would, uh, --yes, I know the clinical term; I just don't usually say it. You sound like my, uh, like Hermione.

Anyway.

So, skip ahead now. You know how a lot of the people in my generation eventually decided to live in the Muggle world some or all of the time. Lots more interaction and integration now, which, obviously you know that since that's why we know about psychiatricism. Right, so anyway, Hermione got this machine that she could use to keep in touch. Her parents, course, and then, some friends. Dean, because he uses wizarding art supplies for Muggle paintings--wicked popular, so he can't be getting owls and the Muggle post is a pain in the arse. Things like that. And she made me get my own account so I could get the E Mails too. And then things got a little weird.

I mean, she told me about the spams, and how they could make the computer ill, though ours--hers, I guess--seems to get a bit of a fever if you leave it on a while anyway, but apparently that's not the same. But how was I to know all these messages promising all these things were all spams? And then, all right, so sometimes I would put the pointer--mouse, she says, but I always sort of think that can't be the real name, right?--at the link and go, and it turned out, they had some really, uh, interesting images. Like wizarding photographs, really, they'd look at you and move, and then reset and do it again.

Only, I haven't seen that many wizarding photographs that come over and over, and I haven't ever seen any involving two blokes, right? Especially, I mean, some of them, they come on the other man's face, or with any number of objects--anyway. So I got more and more curious, and got more and more to thinking about the whole Prefect's Bath thing.

Yeah, I know, curiosity alone isn't really a psychiatrical problem, which is why that's not exactly the whole story.

It's just, first it was just the spams and the tiny moving pictures, and that's not so bad, and if I sometimes was, you know, thinking about that while we, uh. Anyway, but there's nothing wrong with fantasies. Hermione even says so, and even though I know sometimes that means she might be thinking, oh, I don't know who, well, she has a big brain and it can handle fucking me and thinking about whoever and it's not a problem, but me, it's apparently a problem, because I just kept wanting more. More moving photographs, more kinds of them, more people, more--way more--cock.

So I used the goggle, and did you know, if you tell it not to protect you from the adult images, there's pretty much everything. I mean, if you really wanted, you could probably find images of a man, I don't know, sewing his foreskin shut and then sucking off a centaur whilst being fucked by his twin brother.

Um, not that I've seen that; I'm just saying. If you went looking, or if you didn't want to see it, but used a really unfortunate bunch of goggle words, because honestly, the strangest things bring up pictures of fucking. Like, if you type 'harry draco broom' for instance because you wondered about the whole escape from that room during the battle? you get all sorts of stuff I'm pretty sure Harry had no idea anyone was doing with his photograph. Or his broom. Either one of them. Anyway. So, there's a little of everything and a lot of a lot of things, and there are entire films--some of them rather short on plot but it seems that's not the point--and even written stories about everything you can possibly imagine.

So I just took to spending more and more time, and eventually Hermione got a bit irritated, so I tried to quit, honest, because I did see her point that me wanking at the computer machine all the time left me with not a lot for her. I mean, uh, is it infringing on her privacy if I say it's not like she didn't think some of it was hot? But in small amounts, and it just, I couldn't even go a day without logging on.

So I started sneaking. Like, sneaking home for "lunch" so I could watch some bloke wanking for the camera.

And then, it just…

Yeah, we still haven't got to the real problem.

Uh, do you still have more of the relaxing potion?

Because, I mean, I don't know if I can say it out loud.

No, no I don't think acting out the words would help.

I didn't mean for any of this to happen, you know? And I do love my--I do love Hermione. And I want kids. And I never really expected this would turn into such a …this is my favorite new Muggle word: clusterfuck.

Right. Deep breath. First, I found out it's possible to make, like, live films. To watch someone else, at the same time, and have them watch you. I don't really know if it's a film, since it's more just, watching, but you're a million miles apart, and at first I told myself that wouldn't really be cheating, since there would be no one touching me, and I wouldn't be touching anyone, right? So I tried it. I mean, I wanked for some bloke who kept telling me what to do, how to touch myself, slower, faster, harder, you know, and it was really hot, and I got written up at work for missing half the afternoon because he kept telling me not to come yet, and I... Anyway.

And it just got worse from there. Random men, and sometimes random women, but mostly men, and then the same men, over and over, ones that it was a sort of relationship with, ones that I'd meet up with on the line every Thursday at half one or whatever?

But, right, even that wouldn't really be why I'm here.

I had been being careful. I mean, I found out straight away from some of the blokes that if you meet with anyone in person you have to find out about some really nasty diseases that, I sort of think wizards might not be able to catch, because it's not like we never have sex with Muggles and these things are pretty much unheard of in wizards, but I'd rather not take any chances, plus Hermione's Muggle-born, so that might matter, plus just, I like my cock the way it is, with no alarming symptoms.

So at least I wasn't a stupid arsehole. I was keeping it to the camera and the machine, and no meet-ups.

And then my Tuesday bloke changed jobs, so he wasn't on any more at that time, and that's when everything really went to shit.

See, I knew he wouldn't be there, but then, that was part of the excitement, right? Finding someone new? And I clicked on a link at random, and the camera was already on the most gorgeous cock in the world. Couldn't see the face, though the voice seemed familiar, but it hardly mattered, with something like that to focus on. Perfect proportions, perfect creamy color, perfect blond… uh. So I was watching.

And then everything was going along fine, me Banishing my clothes and getting comfortable, him stroking… for about thirty seconds, and then the camera moved.

Yeah, someone I knew. Know. Know a lot more than I should.

He looked at me, smirked like we were still teen-agers only like it was some shared thing, rather than the nasty way it used to be, and Apparated to my sodding front door half-dressed. We stopped putting up the main wards months ago, because they were a pain in the arse, so while he couldn’t just let himself in or anything, he could get to the door, and what was I going to do, leave him out there to explain to the neighbors? Fuck.

And I think they teach Slytherins special classes in smooth almost-lying, you know? Because he walked right in, preceded by that fabulous cock, and said something about how as long as we were doing this, we might as well do it, and the next thing I knew he was sucking me off, and that? was definitely cheating.

And five minutes after that, he had me bent over the bloody couch, which, yes, cheating.

So much cheating. And it was unbelievable. I didn't know I could come like that. I didn't know, I mean, I'd tried some things, you know, that I'd seen, with my wand, or with, uh, other things? But that was nothing. This was… I'm probably not supposed to be getting all, uh, you know, from telling a psychiatrician.

Thanks, but I know it's definitely not normal. It's fucking weird, is what it is.

No, I'll be fine.

Of course I told her. I mean, not that day, because I was still too busy asking myself what the fuck I was doing, but eventually. I definitely crossed about six lines. Crossed them, rubbed them out, and burned the paper on which they'd been written, I think. And, I mean, she was hurt, is hurt, of course, but it wasn't really completely news, not that that kept her from kicking my arse out in the street, which I fully deserved.

Still, that wasn't--isn't--the problem. The problem is, I think I'm addicted to it.

What? Oh, his cock, is what.

No, I mean literally.

I can't, with Hermione any more. I thought he'd cast some sort of curse while I wasn't looking. I mean, I came in here last week in the first place because, seriously, she could wear a see-through bikini and do a dance and rub oil on herself, and there would be just nothing. And I tried. Between the first time and the time I told her, I mean. But I'd just, I'd look at her, and in theory, I want her, and at first I could sort of fake it, but now? I just can't. And I want to. We were supposed to get married and she was going to be brilliant, working her way up in law enforcement, and we’d have a couple of kids and they and Harry's kids would be cousins… but now I can't even pretend that's even possible.

But it's not that there's anything wrong with me. I mean physically. Because sometimes he shows up in my office and I'm against the back of the door in twenty seconds flat, pressing against the wood as he buggers me. Or, he sends me a sodding photograph--a genuine wizarding one--of him coming, or, and I don't even know how he managed it, but of him fucking me, and I have to go to the loo, immediately. Or he just sends me an owl, innocent enough except there's a stain, two little drops on the edge of the paper, and I start imagining what that could be, and there I go again. Arrogant arse.

And it's not getting any better.

I mean, I even tried, I took that potion they always have the adverts for, on the wireless? That makes you go for hours? Yeah, that. I got some of that and wanked over old pictures of her, and it had me hard as hell, the potion itself, but I couldn't, you know, finish. And they always say if it's more than four hours, that's bad, so after about three hours and five hundred blisters, I gave up and thought about sucking him off in my shower and I was done in about a minute, so.

Of course it was a relief. Coming is sort of inherently a relief, isn't it? But what I want to know is, doesn't that maybe mean I have some sort of fixation? Which you could help me get rid of? I mean, because like I said, I watched a lot of other blokes, but that was different. Him, it's like I can't stop craving it.

Which is why I said I thought I was addicted. It is fabulous, but that hardly seems like the main thing, does it? And he would definitely do something like that.

Damn it, so there's no such thing as addiction to a specific cock?

Well! I was hoping, since at least that would explain why I fucked him seventeen times before I told her, every time swearing it was the last. And why I've fucked him at least once every day since, and why I was late for lunch with Hermione last Wednesday, when I was supposed to be talking with her about whether this is fixable. That's why I came here, and then they referred me to you because they said there was nothing physically wrong. And there is definitely something wrong, physically or not.

Because, to sum up, I'm sore virtually everywhere from so much fucking; my fiancée is now my ex-fiancee; a bloke with whom I have absolutely nothing in common but fucking is in my bed, shower, living room, office, and kitchen at all hours; and my boss is pissed off about my performance level. And there's no medical reason; I'm just an idiot. I'm hard from telling you about it.

He seems happy about the whole thing, yeah. I mean, when we talk, which usually leads to not-talking, but as far as I know, he's not still wanking for strangers. Neither am I, come to that.

Yes, I know it's been fifty minutes.

Wait, what? We can't be done now; you haven't told me how to fix this!

I have no idea! What kind of doctor asks the patient what he thinks the answer is?

Well, I don't. The obvious answer is to stop fucking Draco, beg Hermione to take me back, and learn to love pussy again. Isn't there like, a memory modification and a lust potion sort of regimen?

What do you mean perhaps I should consider a simpler solution? Like what? Move in with Draco for more convenient access to his cock?

That’s ridiculous. I was joking. Weren't you listening? Supposed to get married! Children! Cousins!

…no they can't. That's ridiculous. Men don't have the bodies for--ew. Wait, seriously?

Fuck. I was afraid of something like this.

Seriously, can't your next patient just wai--

…Fuck.