Tonight Let’s Get Some Author: writcraftCharacters/Pairings:
Charlie Weasley/Harry PotterRating:
autagonistaphilia (arousal from being on stage), exhibitionism, voyeurism, caught in the act, homosexualityOther Warnings/Content:
Gratuitous One Direction references, cheesy flirting, first times, blow jobs, hand jobsWord Count:
Harry discovers private karaoke rooms are great for blow jobs, gets a crash course in Muggle music and hopes that One Direction songs are the way to Charlie Weasley’s
Singing karaoke is a somewhat loose interpretation of ‘on stage’ but let’s go with it. Title is a line from One Direction's 'Live While We're Young.' It’s great to be back posting at Daily Deviant. Thanks for having me!
Harry doesn’t mean to barge in on Charlie Weasley getting sucked off in a private karaoke room.
Harry doesn’t even do karaoke. He’s a horrible singer and he spends all his time during karaoke nights in the main bar with his friends. Karaoke is Charlie’s thing and he comes over for a pint before going off to sing with people Harry doesn’t know. It’s always different people—an array of men that have strong arms, handsome faces and great arses. Not that Harry’s jealous. Not even Charlie’s good-looking strangers could convince him to make a tit out of himself, singing Muggle songs he doesn’t even know. Harry has enough of people staring at him on the regular, he can’t imagine anything worse than performing for people.
All Harry wants to do is to see if Charlie wants another pint. It’s Harry’s round and he’s generous when he’s buying drinks. He’s certainly not trying to find an excuse to speak to Charlie, even if he does seem to be getting fitter every single week. Harry’s under no illusions about the way Charlie sees him, like a little brother to take the piss out of—he ruffled Harry’s hair the other day. Harry knows thinking of Charlie in any other way is hopeless. He’s trying very hard to push those thoughts to the darkest recesses of his mind in case he has too many shots and makes a twat out of himself, trying to get off with Ron's older brother.
The door to the karaoke room is stiff and impossible to open, so Harry mutters a quiet Alohomora
. He pushes open the door and stops in his tracks, his body suffusing with heat that travels through his veins and goes straight to his cock.
Charlie's head is tilted backwards, lips parted in a silent groan. He’s gripping a microphone loosely in one hand and the other twists into the dark, rumpled hair of some bloke he arrived with. The same bloke that’s currently on his knees, sucking Charlie’s cock with unbridled enthusiasm. With his heart hammering in his chest, Harry’s just about to close the door behind him as quickly—and quietly—as possible, when Charlie looks straight at him.
Harry’s entire body burns hot with embarrassment. Before he can decide if he should just Apparate the fuck out of there, Charlie winks.
Harry swallows and holds Charlie’s gaze, sure his cheeks are flaming. Something loud and poppy thrums through the room, laughter and the electronic thump and beat of music from the main bar reverberates along the maze-like warren of corridors. The whole place is dark, lit only by flashes of neon and the bright light from the karaoke screen, but Harry can see Charlie perfectly. His muscular thighs, the hair trailing from his navel downwards, the crumple of his ripped jeans around his knees, the twist of his hand in the stranger’s hair and the way his eyes get dark and lidded when Harry watches him.
Charlie’s voice is low and filthy as he mutters words of encouragement that go straight to Harry’s cock—that’s it, take it darlin', you like that don’t you?
. Every single grunt and each gruff instruction feels as though it’s directed straight at Harry. He doesn’t take his eyes off Charlie, clutching the door handle so tightly it digs into his skin. He wants to palm his cock through his trousers, but he can’t bring himself to make such a bold move without knowing what Charlie’s thinking.
“You’re so gorgeous.” Charlie twists his hand in the stranger’s hair, the words deep with arousal and his eyes firmly trained on Harry. His voice dips to a throaty whisper. “I bet you enjoy being on your knees, don’t you love?”Fucking hell
As Charlie reaches his climax with a low groan of pleasure, Harry turns on his heel and shuts the door to get the hell out of the room as quickly as possible.*
“Shot of Sambuca, thanks.” Charlie’s distinctive voice makes the area around Harry even warmer. He gives the barman a flirtatious smile. “One for my friend here too, if he wants.”
“Thanks,” Harry croaks. He hopes Charlie doesn't notice that Harry's currently painfully aroused and drinking away his sorrows with the image of Charlie getting sucked off seared into his mind. “I didn’t mean to, umm.” He stops. How do you say to a mate I didn’t mean to watch you getting a blow job
“It’s fine,” Charlie says cheerfully. He leans in, his breath tickling Harry’s ear. “I like an audience. Karaoke always gets me like this. There’s something about singing that presses all the right buttons, if you know what I mean.”
Harry isn’t sure he does know what Charlie means, but he thinks he’d like to.
“Maybe I’ll join you for karaoke next week,” Harry says. His cheeks get hot and Charlie rakes his eyes over Harry.
“Didn’t have you down as a karaoke sort of bloke.”
“I love karaoke,” Harry replies. It’s a lie, unless karaoke
is a euphemism for giving blow jobs
, in which case it isn’t.
“Ron never mentioned.”
“Friends don’t just go around talking about their mates liking karaoke,” Harry points out.
“No, I don’t suppose they do.” Charlie sounds amused. His shoulder nudges against Harry’s at the bar, the tattoos on his pale skin colourful and attractive. He smells good, too. Like sweat and spicy, musky aftershave. Harry wonders what the scruff on his face would feel like against Harry’s skin. The thought makes his mouth water and he downs the shot of Sambuca as the barman puts it in front of him. The sharpness of the liquor and the unpleasant aniseed taste makes his mouth burn.
Charlie necks his shot in one swift motion and Harry stares at the way his large hand makes the glass look so small, drinking in the way his throat bobs and the firm set of his jaw. It makes Harry's stomach twist with an unexpected hunger that takes him by surprise and makes his palms clammy.
Charlie licks his lips when he finishes and gives Harry a questioning look. “Do you even know any Muggle songs?”
Emboldened by the shot and earlier pints, Harry wants to make sure Charlie doesn’t think of him as someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing—doesn’t know what they want. Harry's been out for just about long enough to reply boldly. “I don't know many, but I can’t imagine they’re hard to learn.”
Charlie grins. “Sometimes it can be very hard. Depending on the song you choose.”
Harry swallows and holds Charlie’s gaze without looking away. “I’ll leave the hard stuff to you. I’ll do something easy.”
Charlie’s eyes flare with interest and he chuckles under his breath. “You will, will you?”
“Yeah.” Harry takes a gulp of his beer to steady his nerves and chase away the aftertaste of the Sambuca. “Very easy.”
“New singers are always welcome.” Charlie gives Harry a heated look. “I come here on Wednesdays, too. Less of a crowd. Fancy coming with me?”
Harry bites back a groan, the idea of coming with Charlie making his brain turn to goo. “I’d love to come.” He really would, too. He's uncomfortably hard and his back's sweating from the monumental effort of not pulling Charlie close.
“If you like it enough after the first time, you might even come again.” Charlie gives Harry another grin, before giving his hair a quick ruffle. Harry bats his hand away with a huff. “I’m off to Hackney for the night, a friend’s having a house party and I’m all sung out. Don’t let my brother get pissed on apple sours, last time he threw up in fluorescent green.”
“I won’t.” Harry grimaces and rakes a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want Charlie to ruffle it, like Harry's one of his brothers. He wants Charlie to twist his fist in it and guide Harry over his cock. The thought sends sparks through his body and it’s all he can do not to grab Charlie’s t-shirt and haul him in for a filthy, boozy kiss. “See you Wednesday.”
“Looking forward to it.” Charlie laughs as if part of him still thinks Harry’s joking. Shaking his head, he leaves the bar and Harry stares after Charlie’s retreating figure.
After he’s managed to get rid of his inconvenient hard-on—another shot of Sambuca and the absence of Charlie Weasley does the trick—Harry makes his way over to his table and sits next to Hermione in something of a strop. “Why do we never do karaoke with Charlie?”
“Because you’re a terrible singer and you said you hated the idea of getting up in front of people like a performing monkey,” Hermione replies.
“I know what I said, Hermione.” Harry’s frown deepens. “He gets a private room though. Doesn’t seem so bad.”
“I’m sure you could join in if you fancy it.” Hermione leans in to whisper to Harry. “Although I’ve got my suspicions Charlie’s karaoke nights are just an excuse to pull. He’s never with the same person twice.”
“Yeah.” Harry takes a drink of his lager. “Hermione?”
“I’m going to need a crash course in Muggle music.”*
By the time it gets to Wednesday evening, Harry has a new pair of jeans that make his bum look decent, the kind of too-tight t-shirt Charlie’s boys seem to like wearing and thanks to an old CD Walkman from Hermione, he’s managed to learn some songs by a band called One Direction. He arrives at K-Box right on time and finds Charlie outside, chatting to one of the bouncers.
“Hiya, Harry.” Charlie gives Harry an appreciative look, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Harry glances at the bouncer who seems amused. He doesn’t see what’s so funny. He’s eighteen, not a child. The bouncer can get fucked.
“You did.” Charlie claps Harry on the shoulder in a way that’s far too lads being pals
for Harry’s liking. “Ready to do some singing?”
“I’ll say.” Harry swallows back his nerves and follows Charlie downstairs after the bouncer stamps their hands with a small, black-ink mark. He gets his wallet out when Charlie hands over a few notes for the private room. “I’ve got cash.”
“Good.” Charlie puts a light hand on the small of Harry’s back and steers him as they follow the woman who took their money down the dark corridors. The sounds of music and laughter filter from some of the rooms, but it’s quieter than it usually is on the weekend. There’s a faint, boozy smell and one of the neon lights flickers as if it’s struggling to maintain its hot-pink sharpness. “You can get the beers in, if you're feeling so flush.”
Harry’s heart thrums in his chest as the woman pushes open the door to a small room which seems even tinier than the one Charlie was in at the weekend. The lights are low, there are black leather seats along the walls and a table in the middle of the room. They order a bucket of beers and Charlie starts flicking through songs on a small computer screen nestled into the brick wall.
Charlie turns to Harry and gives him a quick look. “What d'you want?”
“What?” Harry’s mouth gets dry as he stares at Charlie. Their drinks haven’t even arrived yet. He’s not sure about the etiquette of coming to a karaoke bar with Charlie, but he didn’t learn all his songs for nothing.
Charlie gives Harry a slow smile, a fond expression crossing his face. “What song
do you want?”
“Oh.” Harry fights back the heat he can feel rising in his cheeks. “One Direction, What Makes You Beautiful
“Okay.” Charlie laughs under his breath, shaking his head. Their drinks arrive and when the woman leaves, Charlie taps the door with his wand. He shoots Harry a quick grin. “Don’t want to be disturbed when we’re singing by some wanker banker from the City getting his rooms mixed up.”
“Definitely not.” Harry grins back at Charlie. That’s why he couldn’t open the door when he walked in on Charlie at the weekend. He’s still embarrassed that he just barged in without thinking. He just didn’t think for a minute that karaoke could make someone horny. Harry’s insides are already squirming with nerves when he imagines singing his song. He opens two beers and hands one to Charlie, taking a long swig from the other in the hope it might calm his nerves. They should have done shots.
Charlie chooses something quite different to Harry’s song. It’s a rough, rocky number. It takes Harry by surprise realising that Charlie—unlike Harry—can actually sing. He’s brilliant
. His voice is perfect for the song and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen Charlie as free, happy or confident. Except for when he’s with his dragons, of course. He’s a natural, and he puts everything into the song. The muscular lines of his torso are easy to see beneath his tight, white cotton t-shirt and his jeans hug his long legs in all the right places. The light accentuates the curve of his biceps, the firm line of his jaw and the way his eyes shine when he looks at Harry. Watching Charlie Weasley sing karaoke is not all that different to watching porn. By the end of the song Harry gets why Charlie's strangers are so keen to sink to their knees for him, with his rockstar energy and gorgeous smile.
When it’s Harry’s turn to sing his arousal dulls, replaced by a wave of nerves. He gestures towards Charlie, trying to sound casual. “You do another. You’re better than me.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Charlie gives Harry an encouraging look. “It’s just a bit of fun, isn’t it? It’s only me here. Nobody’s bothered if you can’t hit all the high notes.”
“You might be bothered if I don't hit any notes,” Harry replies with a wince. He clutches the microphone in his sweaty palm and pointedly doesn’t look at Charlie, tripping over his words as the music starts. “You’re insecure don’t know what for—
Christ, he sounds fucking awful. He takes a panicky swig of his beer before putting it down to pick up the chorus which he yells (squawks?) into the microphone.
“You don’t know you’re beautiful!
“You really don’t,” Charlie murmurs. His warm hands circle around Harry’s waist, hot and confident. The press of his fingers into Harry’s belly makes everything warm and the words on the screen swim in front of Harry’s face as arousal pulses through his body.If only you saw what I can see you’d understand why I want you so desperately
Charlie’s mouth against Harry’s neck is damp and searching, the pressure of Charlie's lips burning against his skin as he presses back with a groan. Charlie is hard against Harry's backside and gods, it’s all too much for Harry. He can’t remember the song, the words or what the fuck he’s even supposed to be doing. His microphone clatters to the floor and with a groan he turns in Charlie’s arms and pushes him back towards the leather seats. Charlie falls onto them with a thud and Harry straddles him, pressing their lips together firmly.
The kiss is almost enough to make Harry come in his pants. Charlie is hard beneath him, his hands firm on Harry’s bum. His stubble feels just as good as Harry imagined and his kiss is firm, confident and filthy. He tastes like beer and minty chewing gum and Harry can’t stop pushing against him, tugging at his t-shirt and trying to feel more of Charlie’s body against his own as he kisses him desperately. He grinds down into Charlie’s cock and it makes Charlie growl. He squeezes his gorgeous hands on Harry’s backside before sliding one under Harry’s t-shirt, his calloused fingers rough and hot on Harry’s skin. Harry’s desperate and perspiring, he wants to be taken apart by Charlie and he wants to show him he’s bold and brave. He wants to prove he can suck Charlie off better than any of those stupid men he does karaoke with. The slide of Charlie’s tongue against his own is so good—the poppy sound of another vaguely familiar One Direction song indicating the playlist has moved on to the next song.
“No one’s singing,” Harry says. He’s breathless and he moves off Charlie’s lap, sinking to his knees between Charlie’s parted legs. “Don’t you care?”
“Couldn’t give a rat’s arse,” Charlie replies. “Not with you snogging me like that.” He thumbs at Harry’s cheek, sucking in a sharp breath as Harry works to open his jeans. “Look, love…”
“Don’t,” Harry says. “I’ve wanted to do this for ages. Don’t treat me like a kid, I know what I’m doing, sort of. I don’t care if you don’t want anything else with me. Just let me do this, will you?”
“Yeah.” A flicker of confusion crosses Charlie’s face and he brushes Harry’s hair back from his forehead. “You think I don’t want this?”
“Dunno.” Harry shrugs. “I’m like a little brother to you, aren’t I?”
“Not exactly.” Charlie winces. “I don't tend to get boners over my brothers. You’re fit, surely you know that?”
“I am?” Warmth spreads through Harry’s body and he yanks down Charlie’s pants and jeans, sliding his palms over Charlie’s hot thighs. The floor is hard and cold beneath his knees but if anything it just makes the whole thing sexier. “I’m a horrible singer.”
Charlie huffs with laughter. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. Anyway, I’m the one that gets off on singing. It feels like being on stage, and I’m a bit of an exhibitionist as you might have realised.” He licks his lips, his tongue leaving them slick and damp. “I get off on singing and you.”
The thought of Charlie getting off on singing and
Harry makes him groan. He mouths over Charlie’s cock and almost whimpers when Charlie twists a hand in his hair, urging him down over his cock. He likes this. Likes the dull burn in his knees, likes the way Charlie handles him roughly. He likes the slide of his spit-slick lips over Charlie’s cock and the way it makes his jaw ache as his mouth stretches around Charlie’s width. It’s no surprise Charlie’s hung. Harry didn’t miss that
when he decided to stick around and perv on Charlie getting sucked off. It wasn’t only the way Charlie looked at him—hot, dirty and hungry—that made Harry’s cock uncomfortably hard in his jeans.
“You know I thought about this when I came the other night?” Charlie’s voice is rough with arousal and the timber of it slides across Harry’s perspiring skin, leaving him even more turned on than before. “I thought about you on your knees. You're handsome as fuck, and I bet you don't have any bloody idea how good it feels—magic
Harry groans around Charlie’s cock and intensifies his efforts. Saliva leaves his mouth slick and a little dribbles down his chin as he swallows and sucks and works his tongue and mouth over Charlie. He must be a right mess, but he can't bring himself to care as he sucks Charlie off enthusiastically. He clutches Charlie's thigh so tightly it’s a wonder he won’t leave bruises. He wraps his other hand around the base of Charlie’s cock to help him control his movements. It’s desperately good thinking that Charlie might have wanted Harry like this, that he doesn’t think of Harry as some inexperienced kid or that even if he does, he doesn’t seem to mind any of it. He wonders what it might be like with Charlie if they had time and privacy. The image of being stretched out on a bed and tongued, fingered and fucked sets his thoughts alight. He wants Charlie to top him so badly the need pulses through him and he whines in his throat, swallowing more of Charlie down and taking him as deep as he can manage without choking himself.
It doesn’t take much longer for Charlie to twist his hands in Harry’s hair, holding him down as he comes in Harry’s mouth. Harry swallows as much as he can and keeps Charlie in his mouth as his orgasm pulses through him. Finally Harry pulls back and wipes the come and saliva from his chin with his hand. He wonders if he looks as horny and dishevelled as he feels. He sits back on his heels and lets Charlie zip up his jeans and watches as he opens a bottle of beer, catching the froth in his mouth. After taking a long gulp of his beer, Charlie offers the bottle to Harry, a warm smile on his face. Harry takes the bottle and drinks some of the beer down, the lager fizzing in his throat and chasing away the taste of Charlie.
“You must be ready for something too.” Charlie raises an eyebrow at Harry and gives his crotch a pointed look. “What do you fancy?”
“I don’t know,” Harry confesses. His voice is ragged from the push of Charlie’s cock into his throat. He finds he likes it, being on his knees, aching hard and knowing that he’s pleased Charlie.
“Come back up here.” Charlie pats his thigh, and Harry gets to his feet eagerly. His knees are a little wobbly and he stumbles into Charlie’s lap which makes them both laugh. “Good boy,” Charlie says, teasingly. “Now. Let’s get you off, shall we?”
.” Harry sinks into a restless, hungry kiss with Charlie as need burns through him. He thinks he would let Charlie do the filthiest things to him. He chokes back a grunt of pleasure as Charlie gets his trousers open and murmurs a spell, wrapping a slick hand around Harry’s cock. He’s so close already it doesn’t take much more than a few messy tugs of Charlie’s lube-slick hand to bring Harry over the edge.
“Fucking hell.” Harry tries to get his breath back, burying his face in Charlie’s neck and mouthing over it. Charlie keeps Harry in place, his strong hands sliding over Harry’s back and keeping him close. Eventually Charlie moves Harry back, pulling him into a deep, slow kiss that’s almost enough to get Harry hard again.
Charlie’s smiling when he pulls back. “Did you have any other songs?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’m very good though, and they’re all One Direction.”
Charlie laughs under his breath. “Nothing wrong with that.” He wraps a strong arm around Harry’s waist, keeping him in place. “It’s usually around this time I make my excuses and leave.”
Harry rubs his jaw. “I noticed. I’m not bothered if you want to go.” He is a bit, but Harry wasn’t expecting Charlie to stick around. Harry’s not happy to let him leave exactly, but he prepared himself for it. It’s been a pretty successful night, considering Harry’s a terrible singer and doesn’t have much of a clue how to give blow jobs either. Besides, it’s not like he won’t see Charlie again. He reaches for his beer and takes a sip to avoid asking Charlie to stay for a bit so they can do that again.
“Ever been fucked before?” Charlie asks.
Harry chokes on his beer because of all the questions he was expecting, that wasn’t one of them. His cheeks get hot and he shakes his head, giving Charlie what he hopes is defiant look. “No. I’m not just a kid though and now I know what I want I don’t reckon it’ll be hard to get a shag.”
“No.” Charlie’s eyes are dark as he contemplates Harry. “I don’t reckon it’ll be hard at all.”
Harry pulls a face, unused to being complimented and still not entirely sure Charlie isn’t taking the piss. “Give over.”
“Just calling it as I see it.” Charlie shrugs and he has another sip of his beer, looking curiously at Harry. “Ever been to a gay bar?”
Harry shakes his head. “I’m as shit at dancing as I am at singing.”
“It’s easier if you’ve got someone to show you how.” Charlie winks. He pulls Harry against his body, thumbing under Harry’s t-shirt. His fingers are cold from the beer, but his touch makes Harry shiver for very different reasons. “Fancy getting out of here? I know somewhere we can go and have a dance if you want.”
“Really?” Harry stares at Charlie. “Don’t you have a party to get to?”
“Not anything I can’t miss. You can come back to mine after, if you like. We can get a kebab and chips on the way home.”
“Yeah,” Harry breathes. He looks at Charlie’s chest, sliding his hands over Charlie’s shoulders. “Not because you have to, though.”
“No,” Charlie says. He tips Harry’s chin, looking at him before pulling him into a slow kiss. “Not because I have to. You’re not some random bloke, Harry. Whatever else we are, we’re mates. I’m always down for spending time with you.” Charlie frowns, hesitating as if he’s not sure whether he should say what’s on his mind. When he eventually speaks, he’s unusually hesitant. “Look, you can shag who you like, but if you ever wanted—”
“—I do,” Harry interrupts. “I do want.” A wave of excitement crashes over him and he presses closer to Charlie, a low groan escaping him. “I really, really want.”
A small smile plays over Charlie’s lips. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You were going to say if I fancy a shag with someone who knows what they’re doing, you’re happy to take one for the team.” Harry grins. “It’s good of you to offer to help out like that, Charlie. Dead charitable.”
Charlie laughs and ruffles Harry’s hair. Instead of making him feel like a kid, this time it makes Harry feel warm and safe. “You little shit.”
Harry slips out of Charlie’s lap and looks ruefully at the blank karaoke screen. “We didn’t do much singing.”
“Can’t say I mind.” Charlie taps out another song and hands Harry his discarded mic. “One for the road?”
“Yeah.” The familiar beginning to Live While We’re Young
fills the room and Charlie slings an arm around Harry’s shoulder, encouraging him to sing along. Harry does the crazy, crazy, crazy
bits, Charlie does the difficult parts and somehow it doesn’t sound like a kneazle being strangled.
Harry’s still shit at singing and he's not sure he's going to rush back to karaoke unless blow jobs are involved, or a significant amount of booze. Even as he determines not to make a twat out of himself again, they keep drinking and singing. Harry finds singing isn't as awkward or embarrassing when a warm tipsiness bolsters his confidence and the rich huskiness of Charlie's voice mingling with his own gives him another boost.
Harry's beginning to get the endorphins thing, and why Charlie likes this so much. There's something freeing about just opening your mouth, singing and not giving a fuck what other people think. Harry trusts Charlie not to make fun of him for being rubbish, or for not knowing what he's doing. Harry decides karaoke is brilliant
as the music pumps through his veins and leaves him euphoric.
Charlie Weasley is hot, lovely and he wants to take Harry home and fuck him. Harry’s about to go to go dancing in a gay bar for the first time, and he's not going to be alone.
The little karaoke room is warm and bright, Charlie's arm is solid on Harry's shoulder, the music is poppy and upbeat.
As he sings his heart out and all his worries and confusion drain away, Harry decides it really is the best song ever.