Fic: Does This Mean You Fancy Blokes? (Harry/Ron, NC-17) for hpuckle Author:triomakesmehot Recipient:hpuckle Title: Does This Mean You Fancy Blokes? Rating: NC17 Pairing: Harry/Ron Disclaimer: I am a HUGE FAN of the Harry Potter series and I really enjoy playing with the characters, which clearly are the legal property of J.K. Rowling and all the publishers and film companies to whom she has granted license. I have used them without permission, but no copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from any of these stories ... they are for entertainment purposes only. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older. Summary: None. Warnings: explicit twincest Word Count: ~5800 Author's Note: This fic was written for the lovely hpuckle for the 2008 hp_yule_balls exchange. I did my best to incorporate as many of the requested items as I possibly could. Many thanks to my friends, A, L and S for beta assistance, helpful comments and general moral support! To anyone reading this, reviews/comments will be much appreciated!
Does This Mean You Fancy Blokes?
Harry had always noticed the other boys in the communal showers at school. Sometimes he wondered how it might feel to touch them, or if their cocks would be as heavy in his hand as his own, but he had never even remotely questioned his sexuality until Cho Chang kissed him in fifth year. And even after that kiss, when he was back in the common room with Ron and Hermione, he’d thought maybe it was just that Cho had been crying when she kissed him that made him think Ron’s lips might be more kissable than hers.
Things hadn’t worked out with Cho, or even with Ron’s sister, Ginny, and he finally had to admit that the vague images of red hair and freckles he’d always dreamed of as he stroked himself were not visions of Ginny. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised ... nothing about his life was ever easy.
Harry had let Ginny down as easily as he could, but he’d felt like such a prat. He felt like he was failing the entire Weasley family, particularly when he couldn’t bring himself to tell them the real reason why he didn’t want Ginny. He just couldn’t tell them he preferred blokes ... what if they reacted the way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would?
On one of those rare occasions when Harry had been allowed to accompany the family, they had seen two men holding hands. “Look at those nancy boys, Dudders ... they're even more freakish than his lot,” Vernon had growled, gesturing toward Harry in the back seat.
The Weasleys were the closest thing Harry had ever had to a proper family, and Ron was his best friend. There was no way he could risk that or Ron’s friendship ... even knowing it meant he would never find true love, because he was slowly coming to accept that it was Ron he really wanted. Ginny had been merely a substitute.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
In retrospect, Ron blamed Hermione for everything ... not that he was mad about it, but it had made things more difficult now. For years, Ron had fancied himself in love with Hermione, so it hadn’t seemed odd to him that he hadn’t spent much time in school checking out the birds like the way the other blokes did. Well, there had been that one interlude with Lavender, but Ron didn’t even like to think about that. Merlin, that had been awful!
Maybe if Hermione had never returned his interest, Ron's focus would have moved elsewhere and he would have noticed that the tingly feeling he got in the pit of his stomach was more apt to occur around other blokes, particularly if Harry was among them. But she had snogged him during the final battle, and that somehow made them into a couple.
When he and Harry moved into Grimmauld Place together and entered the Auror program, life was good. Hermione enrolled at a Muggle university, but she visited often, sleeping over on occasion in the room she'd shared with Ginny before the war. Hermione was a good kisser, so Ron really didn’t mind their relationship so much at first. She had been very impressed at how much of a gentleman Ron was, even when they were alone together. He hadn’t tried to cop a feel of her girly bits even once! She finally pulled one of his hands to cup her breast one Sunday when Harry was out at the market, and Ron didn’t resist. It was interesting at least, and Hermione seemed to like it, so he could do that for her.
But then everything went pear-shaped. Hermione decided they’d been together long enough for things to get more intimate, and the whole thing had been quite humiliating for Ron. Getting naked was bad enough, but she expected Ron to touch her! Well, of course Ron knew what he was supposed to do ... you couldn’t have five older brothers and fail to be aware of the mechanics of sex ... but he felt embarrassed about doing any of it, particularly with Harry somewhere in the house, even though Hermione seemed to like it. And then, of course, she wanted to touch him ... and he had to let her, but apparently his body didn’t have to respond.
The hurt in Hermione’s eyes nearly killed him. He’d have cut off his own arm before he’d have ever hurt her on purpose. She’d thought maybe she wasn’t pretty enough, or that maybe she wasn’t doing something the right way, and Ron had tried to assure her that he loved her and that she was beautiful, but it was what he didn't say that really told Hermione the truth of the situation.
He didn't tell her he wanted her, or that he was in love with her.
“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” she’d asked softly. Just the mention of Harry’s name had made Ron tingle, and his cock twitch in interest. Hermione noticed, of course, so there was no way Ron could deny it ... but somehow that made her feel better in the long run. Ron had made her swear she wouldn’t tell Harry, or anyone else, the real reason why they’d broken up that night.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
Harry bit his lip to stifle a whimper as Ron padded into the kitchen wearing only a towel that was slung loosely around his hips His hair was still wet, and a drop of water had fallen onto his collar bone and was lazily slipping down his chest, skimming just past the outer edge of his left nipple, making Harry’s mouth go completely dry. Harry was thankful he was already sitting at the table, otherwise Ron was sure to see the bulge growing in his trousers.
Harry’s eyes followed Ron as he moved around the room gathering his breakfast ... milk from the fridge, the cereal canister that sat on the counter, a spoon from the drawer. Watching the muscles in Ron’s biceps and his back tense and relax with every movement was both ecstasy and agony for Harry. Ron stood on tiptoe with his other foot up in the air to reach into the upper cabinet for a bowl, and his towel slipped, leaving him bare arsed and practically spread-eagled. Harry groaned, but fortunately the “thumpth” of the towel hitting the floor hid it from Ron’s notice. When Ron turned to pick up the towel, Harry wished the floor would open up and swallow him because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ginger curls and the half-hard cock that nestled there. He mumbled something about needing to clean his teeth before work and fled from the room.
Harry muttered curses to himself as he stood in the tub, trousers down around his ankles and one hand braced against the tile wall as he tugged roughly at his prick with his other hand. Merlin, why did it have to be Ron? If Harry just fancied some other bloke, he might make it all the way through his breakfast in the morning without having to toss off just so he would be able to look at Ron when he asked if Harry was ready to Floo into work. He couldn’t bear the idea of not living with Ron, but he didn’t know how much more he could take of watching Ron walk about half naked.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
Ron supposed it was how Harry was raised by those damned Muggles that made him so uptight about exposing his body. He never walked around the house in a towel the way Ron did, and he always wore sweats and a t-shirt if they were just lounging about at home. The only time you’d ever catch Harry in shorts or without a shirt was during physical training at the Auror academy, and that was because he wasn’t offered any other option.
That was when it was the worst for Ron. It was hard for him sometimes at home to sit across the table from Harry and watch as he absently licked his lips while they were eating, or to find him asleep in the recliner with his arms thrown up over his head, exposing just enough of his middle that Ron could see the swirl of dark hair surrounding his belly button and disappearing into the waistband of his sweats. But work was torture ... having to physically wrestle with Harry, a half naked, sweaty Harry ... one he was supposed to restrain and pin to the floor. Ron was bigger than his best mate and it should have been no problem at all for Ron to use his size and his weight to overpower his friend and immobilize him beneath his own body. But Harry usually won these contests of strength because Ron couldn’t use his weight to subdue Harry. If Ron pressed his body against Harry's, Harry would know. He would know how hard Ron’s cock was every time they touched. Harry would hate him and it would be the end of their friendship. Ron just couldn't let that happen, so he always let Harry win.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
It all came to a head the last Saturday in November, about a year and a half after the war. George had asked Harry and Ron to help him out at the shop because the Christmas rush had begun in earnest and Lee was stuck at St. Mungo’s with Dragon Pox. The two of them had been in the store room unpacking new stock when Ron stumbled and crashed into a table.
Everything on the table had toppled over, and a single glass vial rolled toward the edge. Harry lunged and managed to snag the vial just before it hit the floor. He gasped for breath, the impact of his body colliding with the hard wood surface having knocked the wind out of him. He groaned, and slowly pushed himself back to his feet.
“What is it?” asked Ron.
Harry rolled the vial in between his thumb and index finger so he could see the label. He felt his heart tighten in his chest as he looked at Ron cautiously. “It, umm ... it says Fred, The Last Night.
“It’s a memory then?” Ron asked, somehow looking both sad and excited at the same time.
“Looks like . . .” said Harry cautiously. Ron was still grieving; Harry didn’t want to see him hurt more.
“I wanna watch it.”
“We shouldn’t, Ron. It’s only going to make you miss him more.”
“I wanna watch it.”
Harry argued with him until he thought he’d won, but three hours later, when Harry Apparated into Grimmauld Place seconds behind Ron, Ron was already pulling the vial out of his jacket and bending to retrieve Dumbledore’s pensieve out of the cabinet where Harry kept it. Harry’s breath hitched at the inviting picture of that glorious bum as it waggled while Ron struggled with the heavy stone basin.
“Come with me, mate.”
Harry still thought it was a bad idea, but not knowing what was in that vial, he didn’t want Ron to witness it alone. He nodded and seconds later, he was tipping his face into the basin and landing inches away from Ron, who was standing in the flat above the joke shop, staring at the memory images of his twin brothers...his naked twin brothers.
George took Fred’s hand and led him into the loo. Ron looked at Harry, swallowed rather hard, and followed them inside, motioning for Harry to come too. Fred stepped into the shower and began adjusting the taps while George gathered up towels and flannels and scented soaps. They started off simple enough, with Fred soaping up a flannel to wash George’s face and throat and shoulders, but then he moved his hands and the cloth down across George’s chest, pausing at his nipples before moving on to wash his inner thighs. From their angle of vision, Ron and Harry could clearly see Fred’s erection, which kept bumping against George whenever he moved his body as he washed his brother.
Harry shifted uncomfortably. He knew immediately they shouldn’t be watching this ... it was the last good memory George had of his twin, and it was clearly very private, but he couldn’t help being turned on by it. They looked so much like Ron, and it was like they were playing out his fantasies. Truth be told, it was probably as close as he’d ever get to real sex.
Ron looked at Harry nervously. He wanted to watch his brothers, but he’d noticed immediately how uncomfortable Harry seemed. Clearly he was revolted by what they were seeing. Ron hoped it was more because Fred and George were brothers, than that they were both men. Maybe if it was the fact they were brothers ... but no, Harry was straight and he wouldn’t like what they were seeing even if Fred and George weren’t related. Ron wondered if maybe they should leave before Harry realized how aroused he was from seeing two blokes together like that.
“Oh, sod this!” Fred exclaimed suddenly, drawing both boys’ attention back to the scene playing out in the loo. He snaked an arm around George’s waist as he backed him against the shower wall and leaned in for an open mouthed kiss. Harry and Ron could plainly see their tongues dueling for control. Then Fred gripped the back of George’s thigh with his free hand, pulling his leg up towards his hip and aligning his cock with his brother’s. He let go of George’s waist and wrapped his hand around their shafts, rocking his hips hard and groaning as his length slid against his twin’s. Harry bit his lip to stop himself from whimpering at the sight, and from the ache in his groin.
After several long moments that Ron found utterly torturous, George reached awkwardly for a tube laying on the soap dish, unscrewed the cap with his teeth and hissed, “Here ... need you now,” at his brother, pulling his leg free and planting his feet firmly on the floor. Fred held out his hand and George squeezed the lube onto his fingers. Fred used it to slick his own cock and took a step backward, reaching between their bodies as George spread his legs apart.
Harry could tell the second Fred’s fingers entered George’s body from the sudden intake of breath and the slight grimace on the redhead’s face. He could also tell that whatever discomfort was there passed quickly because it was only seconds before George was moaning and pleading with Fred to give him more. Another hiss, and Harry assumed Fred had added another finger. He imagined how it would feel if that were Ron’s fingers inside of him, and his cock throbbed painfully.
He hoped Ron wouldn’t notice the bulge in his denims. It could only be morbid curiosity that kept him watching. No one as straight as Ron could find the show interesting.
“Oh Merlin, Freddie! It feels so bloody good!” George panted. “I want you inside me.” Fred extracted his fingers from George’s hole and spun his brother to face the wall. He used his hand to slide the tip of his erection teasingly along his brother’s cleft, then bent his knees to lower himself just enough to line his cock up with George’s entrance. He pushed forward slowly, breaching the ring of muscle and sheathing himself inside his brother’s body. Harry and Ron both groaned, then glanced at one another, blushed and looked back at the twins.
"More," George grunted as he pushed back against Fred. Fred began to pick up the pace, pulling back so that all but the head of his cock slipped out before thrusting steadily back inside. Ron pressed the heel of his hand against the seam of his jeans, trying desperately to ease the ache that was growing between his own legs, wondering how it would feel if Harry were pressing into him.
“Bloody hell, Freddie! I’m not a girl...fuck me!” George demanded.
Fred pulled almost out again, then angled his hips slightly, before slamming back into his twin.
“Fuck!” they swore in unison.
Fred reached around George’s side and grasped his brother’s cock, stroking down from the head to the base as he thrust inward. George whimpered, and Fred pressed a kiss against the side of his neck, never breaking his rhythm.
Harry chanced another glance at Ron and was not surprised to see him shifting uncomfortably. It was probably awful for someone attracted to girls to be watching something like this, but it had to be worse when it was your own brothers. Harry felt guilty for being so aroused by the sight, but his cock didn’t care. It was jealous!
“So good, Freddy,” George moaned.
“Come for me, Georgie,” Fred purred. “I want to feel you coming undone around me.”
He pounded into his twin, still stroking him with one hand and reaching up to pinch a nipple with the other. The extra stimulation was apparently just enough to push George to the brink, and his fingers scraped against the tile wall.
“Bloody hell, George,” Fred groaned, “it feels so good when you do that!”
Ron looked toward Harry in confusion, wondering what George had done. Harry was staring at the twins with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Fred bit down on George’s shoulder and thrust into him as hard as his shaking legs could manage.
“Oh, Godric,” George moaned as he spurted his release over his brother’s hand and against the wall.
“Oh, Fuck!” Fred swore as the rush of wetness streamed across his fingers. He drove himself harder into George, and Harry and Ron could see his whole body tense before he collapsed against his brother, allowing the wall to support them both. As his chest stopped heaving with the effort to breathe, he backed away from the wall and turned George to face him.
Harry pulled on Ron’s arm, extracting them both from the pensieve as George leaned into his brother's arms, kissing him tenderly.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
Harry landed unsteadily on his feet, unable to get his balance completely before Ron came through, and the two men tumbled to the floor with Ron’s weight pinning Harry beneath him. The panic was evident on both their faces; they each had the same identical thought. “Fuck, there’s no way he can miss how hard I am right now!”
Ron lay on top of Harry as if he’d completely forgotten how to move. He stared into the brilliant green eyes beneath him, feeling as if he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t fucking breathe.
Harry stared right back into shock-widened deep blue eyes and bit his bottom lip as he counted off the beats of his pounding heart. The fact that Ron was as hard as he was did not escape his notice, but he had no clue what to do next. Should I try to laugh it off and say a guy’s gotta react to watching someone have sex, even if it is two blokes, or do I just ignore this and tell Ron to get off me?”
Ron tried to take the decision out of Harry’s hands by shifting his weight in an effort to right himself, but the movement only served to line up their erections so they brushed together, making both of them groan.
“Umm, sorry ... “ Ron muttered, trying not to look at Harry while his face went scarlet.
“S’okay,” squeaked Harry.
Ron tried again just as Harry was attempting to twist out from under him, but that only left them rubbing against one another yet again. Harry moaned and Ron whimpered, and then their eyes met.
“Do that again, Ron ...” Harry whispered nervously. When Ron did, Harry thrust back against him, and Ron took Harry’s face between his hands and sealed their mouths together.
Seconds later, Ron jerked back from Harry as if he’d been burned. “Oh fuck, Harry! I’m sorry. I ... Fred and George ... I was just ... shite, I’m sorry!” And with that, Ron pushed himself off Harry and ran from the room.
Harry lay on the floor for several seconds wondering what the fuck had just happened. Yes, he’d gotten a bit carried away with Ron rubbing against him, however accidental, so it was entirely possible Ron wasn’t thinking rationally when he kissed Harry. It was logical that it might have freaked Ron out when his brain caught up with his actions, but what if it wasn’t so much that he was freaked out about what he’d done, but worried about how Harry would react? Could Ron actually be as attracted to Harry as Harry was to him?
Harry got awkwardly to his feet and tried in vain to adjust himself so that his denims weren’t biting painfully into his erection. It wasn't helping, so he gave up and padded nervously down the hall toward Ron’s room. He just couldn’t let this pass without knowing where things stood.
Harry knocked softly on Ron’s door, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he waited. Nothing. He knocked again, a little harder this time.
“Ron, c’mon ... open the door!”
Still nothing. Harry drew his wand.
“Alohomora!” he said with a swish and flick.
Harry’s knees nearly buckled when Ron's door swung open. Ron was lying back on his bed with his eyes closed and little wires extending from his ears to the iPod Harry had given him for his last birthday. His shirt was unbuttoned and his trousers and pants were around his ankles. His right hand was steadily stroking his cock as his hips pumped rhythmically in counterpoint.
Harry couldn’t help the groan that escaped him, and either Ron heard, or chose that moment to open his eyes by sheer coincidence.
“Bloody hell, Harry!” he exclaimed, bolting upright as he tried frantically to pull the covers over his lower half. His face was already turning crimson as he struggled with the sheet, finally realizing he was sitting on it, so he grabbed a pillow and plonked it down over his middle.
“Don’t you fucking knock?”
Harry took a step toward the bed and Ron grabbed for a second pillow, holding it protectively with his hands.
“I did, Ron. You didn’t hear me. I’m not mad, you know.”
Ron looked incredulous. “Why should you be mad that I’m wanking? You do it yourself sometimes. I’ve heard you.”
Harry flushed a bit at that news, wondering when he’d forgotten to put up his silencing charms and whether or not he’d done anything incriminating like call out Ron’s name when he came.
“Not about the wanking, Ron. About you kissing me.”
“Oh ... that. Well, you see I ... well, Fred and George were ... well, you saw them. Don’t tell me you didn’t get a little worked up watching them, even if it was two blokes, because, well, you were hard too when we got back here, and ... fuck, Harry ... can we talk about this after I put some clothes on?”
Harry closed the distance between himself and the edge of Ron’s bed.
“Yeah, but Ron ...” Harry hesitated for just a second, trying to work up his nerve. “Ron, I’d really rather just watch you finish, or umm, maybe even ... err, help you.” He groaned inwardly. His voice had risen up in question at the last two words and he sounded like a bloody girl.
Harry just nodded his head and looked longingly at the pillows in Ron’s lap. Ron's heart was racing as he realized just how close he was to getting what he'd thought he could never have. He swallowed hard and reached for Harry's tie, pulling him onto the bed as he tossed the pillows onto the floor and kicked out of his trousers and pants.
* . * . * . * . * . * . *
A little while later, Ron lay on his back, with Harry's body pressing him into the mattress. Harry's tie was draped over the lamp shade and his shirt was hanging from the bed post. His denims and boxers were pushed just below his hips, allowing his cock to slide deliciously along Ron's as he rocked against him while he explored Ron's mouth with his tongue.
Both boys were panting when their lips finally parted, but Harry paused only a second before beginning to feast on his friend. He nibbled his way from Ron's jaw, down the side of his neck and onto his collarbone. When his mouth found Ron's nipple, he circled it with his tongue, then gently nipped at the taut little bud with his teeth, eliciting a moan from Ron.
Harry moved lower, tasting Ron's freckles as he explored the creamy expanse of flesh he'd hungered for so often as Ron meandered about the house in varying states of undress. When he reached the ginger curls where Ron's cock stood proudly with pearly fluid leaking from the tip, he paused, his heart beating excitedly at the knowledge of what he was about to do.
Ron levered himself up on his elbows to look at Harry. "You don't have to, Harry."
Harry looked up at him, surprised. Ron had clearly taken his hesitation as doubt, but Harry had merely been enjoying the view.
"I do, Ron. I want to."
Harry leaned forward and ran the flat of his tongue up the length of Ron's cock from base to tip. Ron swore and arched into the sensation, and Harry felt encouraged. He used his hands to anchor Ron's hips to the bed and made another pass with his tongue. Ron's chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as he watched Harry swirl his tongue around the tip, collecting the fluid pooled there for him. Harry rubbed the pearly drops against his lips and considered the taste ... not exactly treacle tart, but not unpleasant. Ron moaned and squirmed restlessly beneath his friend. Harry shifted to his knees and took Ron's cock into his mouth as far as he could.
"Fuck!" Ron screamed, bucking his hips, and causing Harry to gag.
Harry looked up with watery eyes and saw the look of complete surrender on Ron's face, leaving him even more determined then to make this good for Ron. He went down on him again, sliding his lips and tongue all along Ron's shaft, stopping every now and then to suck at the head. Ron struggled to hold himself still as Harry began to stroke his shaft with one hand and palm his balls with the other.
Ron grabbed Harry by the hair and hissed that he was about to come, so Harry reluctantly pulled his mouth away. He wanted to feel Ron flooding his mouth, but this time he wanted them to come together.
Harry crawled up Ron's body, carefully aligning their cocks, but Ron rolled them over and leaned in for a kiss. "Harry, I've wanted this ... wanted you," he whispered softly, "so long."
He lifted himself off Harry and nudged him to turn over facing the mattress. Harry complied and Ron rested his chest against Harry's back, nuzzling his nose in Harry's sweat-damp hair as he kissed his neck. He licked a path down Harry's spine as he scooted down on the bed, then he paused to knead Harry's perfect arse with the palms of his large hands.
"Mmm," Harry moaned. "Feels good."
Ron rolled off of Harry long enough to rid him of his denims and pants, then pushed him up onto his knees with his chest still resting against the bed. He settled himself between Harry's legs and leaned forward, sucking one of Harry's balls into his mouth. Harry whimpered and pushed his bum toward Ron's face while spreading his knees even farther apart, opening himself up for his friend.
Ron took his time, licking and sucking one testicle, then the other. He reached around Harry's waist and wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, stroking it slowly as he licked his way across Harry's perineum. Harry sucked in a sharp breath when Ron’s lips touched his entrance, and when Ron began to massage and probe the rosy pucker with his tongue, Harry let out a string of swear words that only served to spur Ron’s enthusiasm. He liked making Harry lose control!
Awhile later, Ron’s back had begun to ache, so he stretched out next to Harry and kissed him softly. When their lips parted and their eyes met, Harry whispered "I want you inside me, Ron.”
Ron nodded his head and began to fumble in the bedside table, then turned back triumphantly holding a tube of lubricant. Harry pushed up on his hands and knees and tried to give Ron an enthusiastic smile. He was nervous ... scared to death actually ... but he wanted this more than he could put into words.
Ron’s heart was racing as he crawled around behind Harry once again. A million thoughts were running through his mind. I’m gonna be inside Harry! Fuck, what if I bollocks this up? What if I make a fool of myself? Bloody Hell! I’m gonna be inside Harry! What if I hurt him? What if he hates it? I’m gonna be inside him! Shite! I have no clue what I’m doing! But I get to fuck Harry ...”
Ron squeezed a generous dollop of lube onto his fingers, not surprised to see his hands were trembling slightly. Harry jumped at the coolness of the gel when Ron began to spread the slippery substance around his hole, but he liked having Ron touch him there. He winced at the burn as Ron’s thick finger breached the tight ring of muscle for the first time.“Go slow, Ron,” he hissed.
Ron mumbled something about telling him if it hurt and continued to gently push inward, watching as more and more of his finger disappeared inside Harry’s body. It felt like his finger was being sucked into a very tight, moist heat and his cock throbbed in jealous anticipation.
When Ron’s finger had pressed as far as it could go, Harry let out the breath he’d been holding and pushed back against Ron’s hand experimentally. It wasn’t so bad after the initial burn; in fact, now that he’d had a bit of time to adjust and relax, it felt sort of nice. He encouraged Ron to keep going.
Ron slowly slid the finger out and back in again, enjoying how Harry’s passage hugged him, even though he could tell Harry was relaxing more with each stroke. Gradually he picked up the pace, and once again began to pump Harry’s cock with his free hand.
“Oh God, Ron ... MORE!” Harry cried out, spreading his legs as far as he could.
On the out stroke, Ron pressed the tips of his index and middle fingers together as tightly as he could and carefully pushed them both into Harry, who swore, and struggled not to tense up. Ron could tell Harry’s erection wilted slightly in his hand, so he leaned forward to distract him with a series of kisses against the small of Harry’s back as he scissored his fingers.
It didn't take long for Harry to learn to love the feel of Ron stretching and preparing him, and soon he was telling Ron he was ready, encouraging Ron to let him take over for a little while.
Ron lay back on the bed and Harry straddled him, one knee along side each of Ron's hips. He found the lube Ron had used earlier and filled his palm with the slick substance. He slathered it all along Ron's length, then took a deep breath to steady himself for what he was about to do.
Harry tilted his upper body forward then reached for Ron's cock, positioning it at his entrance. He was terrified, but he'd never wanted anything more in his life. He took a deep breath and tried to ease himself down onto Ron's shaft, which slipped sideways and they both laughed nervously.
Ron reached down and held his cock upright, still laughing as he said "I'd help you more, but I don't have the slighted fucking clue what to do here. You've done this before though, right?"
"What? No!" Harry exclaimed. "Not even the other way 'round with a girl. Just let me try again."
Harry settled himself once again with the tip of Ron's cock poised at his entrance and tried to press down, finally realizing that the resistance he was feeling was his own tenseness. He willed himself to relax more and pushed down. They both gasped as the head of Ron's prick pushed through the tight ring of muscle. Ron thought it was brilliant; Harry thought it burned like a son-of-a-bitch. Still, he wanted Ron, he wanted this, and there was nothing for it but to keep going.
"Bloody hell, you're tight, Harry! Don't let me hurt you."
Harry could feel Ron's hips twitching and knew he wanted to thrust up to meet him, but he hoped he wouldn't. "Just try to be still Ron. Let me do this."
Inch by inch, Harry raised and lowered himself on Ron's shaft. Ron was in Heaven ... the sensation of having his cock buried even just a little bit inside of Harry's body was more than he'd ever dreamed possible, even though he'd wanted it for quite some time now. Harry was hot and tight, and it was maddening to have him riding up and down over the sensitive head as he worked his way ever lower onto Ron.
Harry was relieved that the burn eased quickly as he relaxed, even though the girth of Ron's cock was stretching him beyond what he thought he could take. Ron's moans of pleasure and the little whimpering sounds he made compelled Harry to continue.
Ron pulled Harry down for a kiss. Their mouths joined and Ron 's tongue sought entrance into Harry's mouth, leisurely exploring and caressing. As Harry relaxed into the kiss, the rest of his body began to relax as well, and he felt himself slip effortlessly down Ron's shaft until he was fully impaled there and they both groaned in pleasure. For Harry, the feeling of being filled and stretched was indescribable. As he rolled his hips in an effort to sit back up, the tip of Ron's cock rubbed against his prostate, causing his balls to tighten, and Harry swore from the incredible jolt of pleasure it caused.
"God, Ron ... fuck me!" Harry demanded.
Ron thrust up against him, and the more Harry moaned in pleasure, the harder Ron slammed his body upward. He reached a hand between them and grasped Harry's cock, stroking him in time with their thrusts.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Harry chanted at the extra stimulation.
It didn't take long. Harry bit his lip and fisted his hands in the sheets at Ron's sides, crying out Ron's name as he began to spurt his release onto Ron's chest in thick, white ropes. He clinched his muscles around Ron's cock as he came and that extra tightness was all it took to set Ron off.
"Shite, Harry! I'm coming!" he cried out, thrusting hard against Harry's arse and pouring himself into Harry's body.
Afterward, they lay curled together on Ron's bed, but neither of them spoke except when Harry did the cleansing spell. Time passed, and Harry thought Ron might have fallen asleep, until he cleared his throat.