Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: tjs_whatnot
From: digthewriter

Title: When I Practiced Flirting With You
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Pining. Dirty Talk. First Time.
Other Warnings/Content: Oral sex. Oblivious boys. Desperate Sex. Friends to Lovers.
Word Count: 3120
Summary/Description: Ron gasps and a desperate moan escapes his throat as Harry swallows him down. "Merlin, Harry. I didn't know you could talk like that."
Author's Notes: I wrote this fic on a train to conquer boredom. I had far too much fun with it. I hope you enjoy it, too! Thanks to R & R for the beta. All the remaining mistakes are mine. The original prompt asked for the following: Kinks/Themes: awkward oblivious boys, pining, desperate-got-to-have it, first time. So I did my best to incorporate that!

Every time their hands brush, it sends an electric charge down his spine.

Ron doesn't understand how he could have shared a room with Harry for all those years, shared a tent, even, while they were on the run, and yet now that they live together in a huge house—just the two of them—he feels like they don't have enough space.

Somehow, unless it's late at night and Ron's in his bedroom, Harry seems to find him everywhere.

In the kitchen when Ron is fixing breakfast, Harry stumbles in half-naked. Sure, it's the morning, but Ron doesn't understand why the man just won't put on a bloody shirt! Ron’s cock always stirs as Harry makes the coffee. His gaze falls down to Harry's flat stomach and then that bit of fuzz beneath his navel, travelling down until Harry’s trousers block the view.

In the shower, Harry has a habit of just barging in. "Sorry, mate," he'll say, and start brushing his teeth while Ron is still under the water, his hands occupied. Then, Harry proceeds to make conversation until Ron's done, before handing him a towel.

If Ron manages to lock the door before he gets in the shower, he almost always bumps into Harry when he's leaving the bathroom. Harry in a towel, no less. There are even times when Harry's towel falls to the ground and Harry—as unbelievably shameless as he is—doesn't even rush to wrap himself up.

"It's just me and you, mate. What's the big deal?"

The big deal is that then Ron forgets what he was supposed to be doing for the day and locks himself in his room, wanking over the memory of seeing Harry absolutely naked. He fantasises about feeling Harry's warm hands on his body, rubbing their erections together, and coming while he's panting in Harry's mouth.

*

"He's unbelievable!" Ron exclaims when Neville asks how he’s doing. Neville is the only person Ron can talk to about this; he knows Ron's secret.

"Why don't you tell him you need more space?" Neville asks.

"I can't tell him that. It's his house! If I tell him—I might as well move out."

"Harry's not going to want you to move out."

"I know. I don't want to, either. I like living there and, well...living with Harry. And..."

"Why don't you tell him how you feel?" Neville asks, and Ron can't help but roll his eyes. Of course, Neville has found his own happiness with Charlie and they’re so all over each other all the time, it's embarrassing. And maybe Ron's slightly jealous.

Maybe.

"I can't—"

"You know Harry's bisexual. He had that obsession with Malfoy when we were in school. You're the one who told me that. And—"

"—and then he kissed my sister," Ron says. "I'm not going to be yet another Weasley that's desperate to snog Harry. Ginny and Charlie were enough, I reckon."

This time Neville is the one to roll his eyes. Ron’s never been able to understand how Neville doesn’t get jealous. If a bloke so much as looks at Harry the wrong way, Ron loses his shit, and Neville’s actually with Charlie. Men are always trying to pull Charlie, and Neville doesn’t even bat an eyelash when it happens.

"Why don't you two come over next Friday?” Neville asks. "Charlie said he doesn’t want a fuss for his thirtieth, but I'm going to plan a surprise party. Even if it's last minute, loads of people are going to be there. Maybe you'll finally get the courage to tell him how you feel."

"And if I don't? Tell him how I feel, I mean."

Neville shrugs. "There will be plenty of Charlie's friends there from the dragon sanctuary. Maybe you'll meet someone."

Ron could never understand how Neville could be so simple, in a good way, when he tended to make everything complicated.

*

Ron heads home after his talk with Neville. He's not sure if he wants to attend a party with Harry and watch Harry flirt his way around the room. Okay, so maybe Harry doesn't flirt. Maybe Harry's just a bit awful at flirting. Gods know he's tried. Ron and Harry used to frequent the Muggle pubs after the war, when they first settled into Grimmauld Place. Ron has witnessed all too many occasions where a man or woman has tried to pull Harry, only for Harry to fumble his words or do something stupid.

They even practiced flirting, back then. Harry was really good at pretending to flirt with Ron, but if they went to a club, it was as if he forgot everything they'd rehearsed at home. The flirting practice was the root of Ron's desire. Harry was so convincing, he'd made Ron fall for him. The poor bloke didn't even know it.

Now, Ron wants Harry, but Harry is still somewhat sexually inexperienced, bad at playing the game, and prone to walking around naked at home. Ron is utterly fucked. He can't even go on dates because he always ends up comparing the bloke to Harry. He wonders if the man is funny enough. Would he make Ron laugh like Harry does? Will he look as hot as Harry with his shirt off? Does he have battle scars Ron would find sexy?

And then, on the actual dates, Ron always brings Harry up in conversation and that truly goes nowhere. Either the wizard is intimidated he's getting compared to Harry Potter, or the Muggle is convinced Ron's got an unhealthy obsession with his friend, which is "too much drama."

Ron doesn't blame these blokes. They can obviously see what Neville can see.

The only person who has no idea is Harry.

Finally, Ron arrives at home. He's going to take a long hot shower and get to bed. If he sees Harry, he might tell him about Charlie's birthday party. Harry's still squeamish over the fact that he once got drunk and snogged Charlie. Maybe he won't want to go.

"Ron..."

Ron thinks he hears his name from Harry's bedroom, but he isn't certain. He knocks on Harry's door but doesn't wait to open it.

He should have waited.

Harry is sprawled on his bed, one hand wrapped around his long, thick cock while the other reaches behind him, disappearing at his arse. Ron can only imagine what it's doing there. Harry doesn't look like he's noticed Ron yet, since his hand is still moving slowly up and down his glistening prick and he's biting his lower lip.

Ron should turn away. He should walk out slowly, close the door, and pretend he didn’t see this. Of course, he's seen Harry naked plenty of times, but he's never actually seen Harry fully erect. And fuck him if he won't be able to shake that image off.

"Need some help?" Ron finds himself asking instead. What? Seriously? Did you just—?

"Ron!" Harry's eyes open wide, but doesn’t stop touching himself. He doesn't look flustered or embarrassed. If anything, he looks even more turned on. "Do you want to?"

Ron's mouth is watering. His cock is hard as iron and Harry's the magnet pulling him in. Before Ron can change his mind, he takes his shirt off and throws it on the floor. He kneels down on the bed next to Harry and runs a hand up and down Harry's thigh.

"I'll do it if you ask nicely." Honestly, Ron has no idea where this is coming from but he's not going to deny himself the words. Obviously, he's very good at thinking on his feet. Thinking, while his cock is hard and leaking in his pants.

He's already used to flirting with Harry—this isn't so different from the pretend games they've played in the past. He knows what Harry likes to hear—but now instead of making it innocent, he just needs to make it sexual. Very fucking sexual.

"Ron...please! Touch me."

Harry's eyes are fixed on Ron’s face, and Ron meets his gaze as his hand finds Harry's.

He grabs onto Harry's wrist. At first, he helps by just adding pressure to Harry’s movements, but he gradually takes over. Harry's fingers are still buried deep inside himself so Ron concentrates on stroking him, making it good for him, all the while maintaining eye contact.

"Is this good?" Ron sounds so desperate.

Harry nods frantically. "So fucking good. Your hands...they're so rough. They feel..." Harry pants when Ron quickens his movements. "They feel like..."

"What do they feel like, Harry?"

"Magic!" Harry gasps, closes his eyes, and spills himself all over Ron's hand. "Merlin... Ron. I never...never...nev—wanted that to stop. You're so good. So good. So good."

Ron takes advantage of the fact that Harry's eyes are closed and smiles to himself before looking down at Harry's spent, yet still swollen cock. He desperately wants to lick his hand. Would that be weird? he wonders.

Before he has a moment to do anything, Harry is on top of him like a tiger. He's slid down to the floor on his knees as Ron sits up on the bed, and he's unfastening Ron's trousers.

"You want this, don't you?" Harry says, sounding so deliciously desperate Ron almost fucking loses it right then. "Want me to suck you off?"

"Fuck yes!" Ron nearly cries out. He helps Harry with his belt and trousers, until Harry's ready to pull his pants down. "Put it in your mouth before I end up coming on your face."

Harry releases a low groan before he locks his eyes with Ron again. "Now I'm not sure what I want. I want you to fuck my mouth, but I also want to feel you come on my face, Ron." Harry sounds so forlorn and contemplative that Ron starts to laugh.

"I'll do anything you want, Harry. Want you so much..."

"I wanna taste your cock, Ron," Harry says, licking the head of Ron's prick and moaning at the salty taste. "Promise me you'll do that though, next time?"

"Do what?"

"I'll get you off with my hand so you can come on my face—"

Ron gasps and a desperate moan escapes his throat as Harry swallows him down. "Merlin, Harry. I didn't know you could talk like that."

"It's always easy with you, Ron. Always," Harry says, pulling away for just a moment. All coherent thoughts leave Ron once Harry's got his mouth wrapped around Ron's prick again. He swirls his tongue around, bobbing his head up and down, and he’s just so bloody good at sucking him--Ron has to wonder how inexperienced he really is.

Ron almost crashes back onto the bed as he spills his release down Harry's throat. "Oh, Harry. You're gonna...you're gonna fucking kill me with that tongue..." When Harry releases him, Ron really does end up falling back against the mattress. He's on such a fucking high of having a fantastic orgasm, he's forgotten he's in Harry's bed. When Harry curls up next to him, Ron summons the blankets over them and falls asleep immediately.

*

He's unusually warm in the morning and his body is stiff. He's not had sex in a while, but he remembers the feeling of waking up next to a stranger in a bed that isn't his. Only this time, the man beside him isn't a stranger, but his best friend.

Harry's face is buried in the crook of Ron's neck and he's snoring slightly. Ron isn't able to stop himself. He presses a kiss on Harry's temple, and then immediately regrets it. What if he wakes Harry up and things get weird? As hot as it was last night, this is still going to be pretty fucking weird. Ron does the only thing he can do: he slowly slithers out of bed, finds his clothes, and leaves the room.

He dresses in a new pair of pyjama trousers, a clean shirt, and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. It is the only thing he's the best at. It's Sunday, so that means breakfast at home before he goes by the shop to help George, and then they’ll head over to the Burrow for dinner with the family. Harry will join them, of course. Now Ron has to wonder if Harry's going to be awkward about this. Knowing himself, Ron knows he's going to be awkward about this. It's what he’s good at: food and being awkward.

Harry stumbles in moments later and this time he's only managed to put on a pair of boxers.

Ron shakes his head. "I suppose it's a good thing I’ve never had a date stay the night. One look at you and..." Ron whistles. Fuck, Harry looks good in the morning with his shaggy hair and his I just got royally fucked, thank you very much, look.

"Coffee..." is all Harry says before he starts to make a pot. A moment later, Harry turns his head to look at Ron. "Stop staring at my arse. You're going to burn the bacon."

"Ah, shit!" Ron’s distraction earns him a small oil burn on his hand. He quickly gets back to concentrating on the food. "Well, stop dressing like that before breakfast and maybe I'll think about eating something else." He knows it’s an awful line, but he can't help himself.

"Do you mean that?"

Ron smirks as he places the bacon on two plates next to the perfectly brown toast. "In those boxers...yeah, I wanna eat you out..."

"Ron—"

"Hello? Are you boys decent?" Angelina's voice echoes through the sitting room and into the kitchen. Harry straightens himself up and Ron quickly reaches down to adjust his cock. "Ah! There you are!" she says as she enters the kitchen.

Both Harry and Ron look at each other before schooling their expressions. No, they weren't just talking about Ron rimming Harry over burnt bacon.

"Neville wanted me to get right on this so I'm here."

"This about Charlie's party?" Ron asks, putting together a third plate of food for Angelina.

"Yes! Good, you're on board then. Except, now it's a surprise party."

"Wait... what's going on?" Harry asks. He walks around the kitchen island with his cup of coffee and perches on a stool.

"Neville thinks it'll be a brilliant idea to throw Charlie a surprise birthday party and invite all his friends. And his ex-lovers." Angelina laughs almost evilly as she takes her plate from Ron. Ron has always been so impressed by her. She fit into the Weasley family so well as soon as George married her, and now she's become quite fond of Neville too. "Neville's such a treasure, really. He claims to not be the jealous type, but he likes to make Charlie squirm..."

"Oh, when's the party?" Harry asks.

"Ron! I can't believe you didn't tell him?"

"I..." Ron hesitates. I was too busy fucking his face and it didn't come up. "Sorry. Just slipped my mind, I guess."

"I swear, boy. Your Mum is right. You'd lose your head if it wasn't screwed on..."

Harry takes that precise moment to gag on his breakfast. Ron isn't sure if Harry is laughing at him or just really choking.

Angelina stays for the whole of breakfast, telling Ron and Harry stories about baby Roxanne's adventures and how much she adores her grandma Weasley. Ron smiles through the conversation, which flows so easily among the three of them. He's in awe of how well Harry fits into his family, into his life. He could have never imagined it otherwise.

"So you're both coming, right? Neville will have your head if you don't!" Angelina says as she makes her way to the Floo. She doesn’t wait for a response from them before adding, "See you at the dinner tonight, boys."

An uncomfortable silence falls once Angelina has left. Ron busies himself by clearing the table, while Harry makes a start on the dishes.

"So, are we going to talk about what happened...?" Harry asks.

"I...sure..." Ron says hesitantly. He isn’t sure he’s ready to hear the words, It was a mistake.

"It was bloody hot," Harry says, his face still turned away from Ron as he scrubs at the frying pan. "Wasn't it?"

"It was," says Ron. He walks up behind Harry and pushes him against the sink, pressing their bodies together. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Do what?" Harry pushes back, his arse grinding against Ron's erection.

"Touch you. Watch you come..." Ron breathes into Harry's ear and feels his body shiver. "You're so fucking sexy, you know that?" He grabs Harry's hips and really drives into him, wishing Harry wasn't wearing his boxers so he could press his cock against Harry's hole. "All the flirting practice really paid off, didn't it?"

Harry releases a low desperate sound and pushes back harder. His head hangs low; he’s abandoned the dishes. "I was good at flirting with you because I wanted you..." Harry clenches his arse cheeks, squeezing Ron's cock. "I want you, Ron. Fuck, I want you so badly..."

"Neville is throwing a party for Charlie so I could finally tell you how I feel. Or so that I can find someone new and move on," Ron says. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic of Harry's boxers and roughly pulls them down.

"And what are we going to do now?" Harry asks, innocently. He’s so good at this with Ron, it nearly blows Ron’s mind.

"Now...we'll start with me fucking you right here against the kitchen sink. Then, tonight after dinner, you're going to ride me on my old bed in my room at the Burrow. And at Charlie's party..."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, spreading his legs apart as if he is getting ready for Ron. He reaches back to grab hold of Ron's cock as Ron's pushed his own pyjama trousers and pants down, "Tell me, Ron. I'll die if you don't tell me right now..." He strokes Ron's cock, then holds the head of Ron's cock against his hole.

Ron knows he isn't going to breach Harry's body with his prick. Not just yet, anyway; he doesn’t want to rush it. Instead, he summons a bottle of lube from his room and pushes two fingers inside Harry. Harry hisses: pleasure mixed with pain, the sound laced with that needy desperation Ron loves so much about Harry.

"At Charlie's party, you're going to suck me, or fuck me, in every room, Harry."

Harry throws his head back and rests it against Ron's shoulder. He's closed his eyes and seems to be simply enjoying the pressure of Ron's fingers inside him. "I can't wait," he groans.

THE END