|Wolfie (wolfiekins) wrote in bestmeatsawards,|
@ 2007-08-21 11:32:00
|Current location:||The Burrow|
|Current music:||GREAT NORTHERN "Home"|
|Entry tags:||my fics, nc-17, ron/harry|
FIC: "Once More, With Feeling" Ron/Harry, NC-17
Title: ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING
Characters: Ron Weasley, Harry Potter
Genre: Romance, Humour, PWP
Warnings: Adult Language, Slash, Sexual Content, Some Verbal Abuse
Word Count: 2710
Beta: evilauntiesnape & thrihyrne
Summary: Harry's devised a plan, and Ron doth protest too much... Post Hogwarts/War.
X-posted to ron_and_harry
DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to that Scottish broad. Bully for her. I'm only playing with the boys. No offence intended nor monies made...
An attempt at PWP. Post War...
~~~~~ ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING ~~~~~
Ron looked up from his copy of Broom Enthusiast, his blue eyes going wide. “Holy hopping Harpies!” he exclaimed, dropping his magazine and gesturing with his bottle of Winchester's Burly Brown ale. “What the fuck is that?”
Harry held out the tiny lump of shiny, black latex. “I’ve told you. It’s all part of the plan.”
Ron drained his ale, setting the empty bottle on the coffee table. He stood up and rounded the sofa to peer at the item in Harry’s hand. “I don‘t understand how me wearing that,” Ron said, hesitantly poking at the latex thong, “is going to solve our problem.”
“Trust me,” Harry said around a wicked smile. “I’m pretty sure this’ll work.”
Ron fidgeted with his belt buckle. “Explain it to me again?”
“It’s simple,” Harry began. “You’ve said that you don’t like being gawked at, especially on our own sofa, in our own flat, right?”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed.
“So reverse psychology’s in order. We kick things up a bit, and they won’t want to look any more. Perfection in its simplicity.”
Ron pulled a face. “And we can’t just put up blinds?”
“I don’t like blinds."
“Well, neither do I, really,” Ron said.
“There it is, then. And considering how bashful you are, this is the only thing I could think of to try.”
“It’s not just me, mate.”
“It bothers me that it bothers you,” Harry clarified. “You’re so easily distracted when we’re, uh, busy.”
Ron planted both hands on his hips. “Oh, and I suppose you don’t mind perfect strangers seeing us starkers while we snog and shag, then?”
Harry folded his arms and shrugged. “Frankly, no, I don’t give a skrewt’s arse who sees us.”
Ron threw up his arms. “Great, that. Make it all about me.”
“I’m not,” Harry protested. “No need to get all pissy.”
“This is one of the best neighborhoods in Diagon,” Ron pointed out. “I didn’t know when we signed the lease that the block across the way was filled with voyeurs!”
“Not like either of us gave it a thought,” Ron continued, waving his arms. “You liked the huge bank of windows, if I recall.”
“I did, and I do. Don’t forget you thought that they were pretty cool, too.”
Ron ran a hand through his shoulder-length ginger locks. “Yeah, I know. But sometimes I feel like that bloke with the broken leg in that Muggle film.”
Harry furrowed his brow and shook his head. “What? Who?”
“You know, that old film with the fellow who watches his neighbours across the way and witnesses a murder. Can‘t quite recall the name of it...”
“Rear Window,” Harry replied flatly.
Ron snapped his fingers. “Right, that was it! Interesting film. I liked it well enough, but I don’t understand why the bloke didn’t tell his bird sooner what was going on. And another thing...”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Ron!” he said, stepping closer to his bondmate.
“What?” Ron bristled, pulling a face. “Now who’s gettin’ pissy?”
“Are we going to give this a go, or what?”
"You really think it'll work?"
Harry nodded, twirling the thong on his index finger. "I've given it a bit of thought, and it's a sound plan. I'm rather good at plans, you know."
"You certainly came up with some brilliant ones during the War."
"I had some help, especially from Remus, from Snape, and you as well. But yeah, I reckon I pulled my own weight more often than not."
Ron nodded. "That last one you came up with, though. Where you rigged Nagini to detonate on cue."
"Certainly took Voldemort by surprise."
"Took him out!" Ron grinned at the memory. "Blimey, there were bits of snake and Dark Lord everywhere. Hermione keeps insisting that she's still picking bits of Snakeface out of her hair, even now, three years later."
Harry stepped forward, still twirling the skimpy bit of latex.
Ron thought about it for a moment before he sighed heavily. “Oh, all right. No harm in trying, I suppose.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, great. Now, strip.”
Ron arched a russet eyebrow. “Bit forceful, ain’t we?”
“Funny you should mention that,” Harry answered with a wicked grin. “You trust me on this, yeah?”
Ron nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good. Now that’s sorted.” Harry whipped out his wand and banished every stitch of Ron’s clothes.
“Bloody hell!” Ron yelped, instinctively covering up his quickly hardening cock. “Now?” He gestured to the bank of windows making up the entire western wall of their flat. “This time of night, everyone can see!”
Harry waggled his bushy eyebrows. “Precisely the point, remember? And you weren't this hesitant during that photo shoot for Quidditch Stars Unrobed! last Spring.”
"That was a bit different. More of a controlled environment. Not like this." Ron flipped his hand at the wall of glass.
"Ron, there were at least twenty people in Creevey's studio that day, not to mention the thousands that drooled over and wanked to your pictures once the magazine came out."
Ron shrugged, a wistful expression on his face. "Ya know that was the first issue without staples through the centerfold. Sold out in record time, too. And two reprints from last I heard. Didn't hurt the Cannons' ticket sales, either."
"Just think of this as an encore performance." With a wave of his wand, his own clothes disappeared. He held out the latex thong. “Let‘s get to it.”
Ron nodded, picking up the thong with his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure they’ll fit?”
Harry nodded, one hand palming his already fully erect dick. “Yeah, one size fits all,” he panted.
Ron fumbled with the slick black thong, finally straightening it out sufficiently to step into it. He pulled it up and over his long, muscled thighs, struggling to fit his balls and engorged cock into the laughably small front pouch. “Damn, Harry, these wouldn’t fit a toddler, let alone me!” He looked over to Harry, whose eyes were closed. The very tip of his tongue was sticking out from between his pursed lips, and he was stroking his erection like there was no tomorrow. “Oi! Harry!”
Harry’s eyes popped open, and he smiled. “No, no, they’re perfect,” he murmured, stepping closer.
Ron arched an eyebrow. “But I don’t fit, mate,” he protested. “I know I’m hard, but it’d be a lost cause even if I weren’t.” He gestured to the exposed upper half of his erect cock.
Harry sucked in a deep breath and dropped to his knees. “Believe me, Ron, they’re just right.”
“So what about you, then?” Ron asked accusingly.
Harry flicked his wand at his chest. Two large, chrome rings appeared, piercing each of Harry’s dark brown nipples. With a wicked grin, he tossed his wand over his shoulder and advanced on Ron, one hand tugging at the left ring. “So, what do ya think?”
Ron blinked and licked his lips. “Dunno. His and Hers towel hangers?”
“More like His and His,” Harry purred, his free hand ghosting over Ron's hip. “Want a pair for yourself?”
"They look sorta painful."
"They're not. Automatic anesthetic charm. So?"
“Um, maybe next time. And here I though you’d just conjure up a nice leopard skin thong or some such.”
Harry shook his head, his green eyes bright with desire. “Nope.” He knelt down to get a closer look at Ron’s thick erection. “Oh, yeah, those fit rather nicely.”
“If you say so, mate. I’m sure that nearly my entire arse is hangin’ out. I still don’t...yow!” Ron yelped in surprise as Harry’s hot mouth closed over the end of his dick. “Okay, let‘s get to it, then,” he murmured as Harry sucked and pulled on him with thinly veiled urgency.
Harry pushed the slick latex downward over Ron's hips, releasing the rest of Ron’s erection. He swallowed it whole, eliciting appreciative groans from Ron.
“Oh, shit, yeah, that’s the ticket.” Ron slowly pumped his hips back and forth, moaning slightly as Harry’s fingers firmly massaged his arse cheeks.
Harry carefully dragged his teeth along the underside of Ron’s erection, pausing to swirl his tongue around the head of Ron’s cock before swallowing his length again and repeating the entire process.
Ron bucked and moaned, throwing his head back and running his fingers through Harry’s mane of long, black hair. “Gods, yeah, mate, gods yeah!” he yelled as Harry squeezed his balls. Ron took deep breaths, absently turning his head to stare out the huge span of windows.
“Holy shit!” he blurted out. His dick slid out of Harry’s mouth with a wet plop. “The old woman from across the way’s watching us again,” Ron said, pointing. “And she’s got binoculars!”
Harry wiped at his red, swollen lips. “Brilliant! Let’s give the old bat something to really gab about, okay?” Harry hooked his fingers in the waistband of Ron’s latex thong and shoved it down his thighs, gesturing for Ron to step out of it.
"I've barely had it on five minutes, and now you want it off?"
Harry nodded, licking his lips as he reached over and swept everything off of their coffee table, sending magazines and remote controls flying. “C’mon, mate. The stage is set.” He jumped up onto the table and held out his hand.
Ron stared as if Harry’d sprouted antennae. “You can’t mean...you don’t want me to...”
Harry nodded. “Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I want.”
“I dunno, Harry,” Ron said rather nervously as he kicked the thong away.
“Don’t back out now,” Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “Let’s show ‘em how it’s done, yeah? I’m tired of worrying who’s watching and seeing what. Pre-game show‘s over; time for the main event!”
"You sure that thing is big enough?" Ron flipped his hand at the coffee table.
"It's nearly as large as the kitchen table at the Burrow. It'll be fine." Harry crooked a finger and languidly waggled it. "Get up here."
Ron sighed heavily and jumped up to join Harry. “By your command,” he replied, placing his hands on Harry’s hips.
Harry glanced over his left shoulder at the wall of glass. “Excellent. Looks like that bloke on the third floor centre’s on line.”
Ron pointed a bit higher and to Harry’s right. “And the Asian lady with the scary green hair. She’s lookin’ too.”
“All according to plan,” Harry rumbled as he ran his hands along Ron’s torso and sides, “You’re too hot, Ron. Too fuckin’ hot.”
“I think the old codger on the second floor's lookin' on, too. You've said he works at the Ministry; do ya know what Department? Wonder if Dad knows 'im."
“Oh, just shut it Ron, and fuck me, okay?” Harry growled, stroking his own erection firmly. “Or must I resort to extreme measures, you spotted, hairy, cock-sucking broom jockey?”
Ron grinned crookedly and placed his hands on Harry’s hips. “What am I again?”
“You’re nothing but a fucking overgrown carrot, with brains to match,” Harry said throatily.
“Oh really?” Ron said, spinning Harry about and murmuring a wandless Lubricus.
“Yeah, arsehole! You’re a ginger-haired, shirt-lifting berk with about as much sense as a deranged, lobotomised skrewt!” Harry yelled, pressing his arse against the head of Ron’s cock. “Do it, you dim-witted, in-bred, Marmite-sucking squib!”
“Oh, fuck yeah!” Ron roared, driving his dick deeply into Harry’s arse. “Keep it coming, mate, keep it coming!” he groaned, reaching around to tug at one of Harry’s nipple rings.
“About time you caught on,” Harry panted, “you addle-brained, steroid soaked broomstick fucker!”
“Hah!” Ron cried out, nuzzling and nibbling at the side of Harry’s neck. “You’re such the foul-mouth!”
“And you fucking love it,” Harry replied breathlessly.
Ron suckled and kissed his way down and along Harry’s neck, stopping to bite gently at the flesh of Harry’s shoulder. He thrust into Harry with an even rhythm, his feet spread apart slightly and one hand wrapped about Harry’s waist while the other tugged and pulled at the chrome nipple ring.
“Gods,” Harry moaned, rising up on his toes to give Ron better access. He stroked himself firmly while his other hand squeezed and massaged Ron’s arse cheek. “Gettin’ close?” he asked between moans.
“Yeah,” Ron replied, increasing the speed and force of his thrusts. “Gonna come,” he growled, suddenly stopping his motions, fully embedded in Harry.
“So good,” Harry whimpered as Ron’s release filled him. “Too bloody good.” He pulled on his cock a few more times, gasping loudly as his ejaculate spurted between his fingers and splattered his belly.
“That’s you,” Ron murmured into Harry’s ear, holding his bondmate even tighter. “Don’t ever want to let go.” He reached around for Harry’s spunk-coated hand and brought it to his mouth. With deep moans of pleasure, he carefully and thoroughly licked each one of Harry’s fingers clean.
Harry grunted contentedly, slowly pulling away from Ron, who gasped as his softening dick withdrew from Harry.
“Bloody hell, that was awesome,” Ron said, grinning.
“Better every time.” Harry turned around, throwing his arms about Ron’s neck. He stood on tiptoes, pressing his lips to Ron’s.
Ron encircled his arms around Harry’s waist and lifted him off of the coffee table. Harry responded by wrapping his legs around Ron.
“Reckon we gave ‘em a good show?” Ron asked with a lopsided smile.
Before Harry could respond, the coffee table creaked once before collapsing in upon itself.
Ron attempted to leap from the table but only succeeded in falling over backward. He released Harry and threw out his arms in a vain stab at retaining his balance. Harry gripped him tightly as Ron fell over backward, and the pair landed on the arm of the sofa.
Ron cursed like a Muggle sailor as his arse slid across and over the edge of the sofa arm, his lower body and legs levering up, much like a catapult, launching Harry into the air.
Harry yelped in alarm as he landed head first in the most uncomfortable armchair by the hearth.
“Yeah, a pretty good show,” Ron mused, lying flat on his back on the floor, his legs sticking straight up into the air and leaning against the side of the sofa.
“Mmmmffphfft,” Harry commented, his head buried between the seat cushion and back of the armchair.
“What was that?” Ron asked, sitting up and glancing out the huge window.
“I said,” Harry replied petulantly as he extracted himself from the armchair, “we certainly outdid ourselves.”
“Think it worked?” Ron used Harry’s wand to Accio some boxers and tracksuit pants. “I don’t see anyone watching now.”
Harry shrugged as he grabbed at a pair of Chudley boxers that floated by. “Shows over, that’s why no one’s gawking. Won’t know for sure until tomorrow night, I‘d expect.
“Bloody coffee table,” Ron said, sparing the offending piece of failed furniture a withering stare as he yanked up his Chudley tracksuit pants. “Cheap American junk.”
“That was Ikea,” Harry corrected, finishing with the tie of his own pants. “Swedish or some such. Probably wasn’t rated to withstand two wizards having hot monkey sex on it, though.”
Ron rolled his eyes and cast a Reparo. The coffee table jiggled about and put itself back together with a series of soft thumps and cracks.
Harry moved next to Ron, winding his arm around Ron’s waist. They both gazed out of the wall of glass, and Ron slipped Harry’s wand into the waistband of his pants.
“Ya know,” Ron said, rubbing his chin with his free hand, “we just might have to keep at this for some time. To make sure we adequately put everyone off the staring, I mean.”
“You may be onto something there, mate,” Harry said with a wicked smile. He stepped in front of Ron, sliding his hands inside the back of Ron’s tracksuit pants. “I like the way you think.”
Ron grinned widely. “We should strengthen the coffee table, though.”
“Too right,” Harry agreed, hugging Ron tightly.
“And tomorrow night, you’re wearin’ the thong. And it’s gonna be leopard skin.”
“Oooh, spank me and call me Hagrid,” Harry said throatily just before crashing his lips to Ron’s in a smouldering kiss.
~~~~~ fin ~~~~~