|yule_balls_mod (yule_balls_mod) wrote in hp_yule_balls,
@ 2008-12-13 23:42:00
|2008, character: harry potter, character: ron weasley, fic, pairing: harry/ron
Fic: Waking up to Ron (Harry/Ron, NC-17) for the community
Recipient: the community
Title: Waking up to Ron
Rating: NC 17, to be on the safe side.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary: A moment in the life of Harry and Ron. Harry's POV.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Word Count: 1,350
Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta R, who I practically imposed to beta read this fic. Love you, thank you so much!
Where have you gone, my love? The bed feels so big and empty without you. I snuggle closer to your side enjoying the warm twist of the sheets and blankets around my body and take your lonely pillow to press it to my face. Hmmm. I can still feel your scent. I wouldn't mind dying of asphyxiation if the last breath I take is your delicate and delicious scent. I know you'd laugh if you knew this, but it's only because you don't know how wonderful your smell is.
But where are you, love of my life? Through the pillow I can hear the muffled sound of water running. Ah, there you are.
I stretch to my fullest, feeling the arch of muscles from my wrists to my calves and reveling in it. The pillow slips off my head and onto the carpeted floor without protest. Settling back, I smirk and fold my arms behind my head as I contemplate the ceiling and think of you.
I close my eyes and I can easily imagine you getting yourself ready for your morning shower; merely dropping your pajama pants to the floor and quickly but elegantly stepping out of them. I can almost see you pulling down your underwear, and I even could make out the small depression across your magnificent, dimpled butt cheeks as the ribbon slides across them and it seemed you rubbed them more forcefully across your skin, white, velvet like, perfect skin.
And then you'd stand for a moment in your naked splendor opening and adjusting the water jets, then you enter the water stall and I smile to myself.
I step out of bed and silently walk to the bathroom. The steam clouds the air and I can make your silhouette in the shower, but just barely. A shiver runs through me from head to toe. It could have been because I stepped out from our warm bed to the cold chilly hair of December, but also it could have been from plain wanton lust.
I walk further into the bathroom. You are humming to yourself and you haven't heard me or notice me yet. I sigh deeply and let my eyes travel through your body. So beautiful and delicate you are. Your hair shining with endless shades of red dripping its way down your body.
I rest my body on the side of the door-frame and continue watching you. Your back facing me, and water was cascading down your back in rivulets, and then dripping down to the apex of your -fucking gorgeous- ass, then to the backs of your thighs and calves to finally puddle at the floor and slink along to the drain.
I think you must have felt my eyes upon you because you turn around slowly and tantalizingly as if it was to tease me. Bite my lips is all I can do not to gasp loudly out of sheer erotic pleasure to see my lover naked, wrapped in sensual glory while showering. So fair. Your hair had become slightly tousled, long tests of it clinging to your wet forehead in arch shapes. The sight of your eyes is enough to make my breath catch in my throat all over again and it takes your voice to break the spell.
You greet me and ask if you disturbed my sleep. No, love, you haven't, I say. Although that's a lie, you did disturb my sleep when you left me alone. But I'm not going to say that. You ask if I've been standing too long. No, just enough to realize what I already know, how precious and dear you are to me, but I'm not going to say that either. I just smile and hope you can read my mind. And maybe you can because you smile shyly at me. That knowing smile you have when we are thinking the same.
Can I join you? And even without your reply, I take off in one move the white shirt I'm wearing, though I'm not wearing the pants. Those are blissfully forgotten underneath our sheets. I lick my lips as I walk to the shower, I can almost, yes, almost taste your lips.
First my hands make contact with yours, I interlace our fingers and take both our hands behind my back. And then I melt. Like sugar melting in a starving man's mouth I melt when our lips meet. And then your skin is rubbing mine, slowly and gently rubbing war, wet, hard nipples against your chest. I take one hand and raise it up to your chin and tilt your head, just a small smile in the corners of my lips in the longest prelude to a kiss until our lips join and our tongues brush.
And then there are my hands again. . . feeling the smooth skin on your back, moving in circular motion in the nape of your neck. You groan at the pressure of my hands on your shoulder. That's all the encouragement I need to turn you around and shower your shoulder blades with butterfly kisses while my hands massage your back.
I start gently, very gently, moving it in little caressing circles until I can see a visible change in your posture. Then, gradually, I start to incorporate a bit of strength of my hands; but my lips never leave your skin. Your delicious, wet, soft skin.
Oh, you mewl, slumping forward from the stimulating pressure I am pressing on your shoulders and middle back. Always slowly, letting you become aware of my shifting hands, I run them down to your sides and towards your ass, manipulating the skin until a steady stream of moans bubble out of your mouth. The steady work on the cheeks of your ass cause shudders and hitched breaths so very intoxicating that makes me think I might sink to my knees and take you in my mouth.
Which is precisely what I'll do. But I want to take my time. I find a freckle on your back, kiss it, lick it, and then I find another, and another and each by each I make them all mine. I move up to your neck again, the warm water falling onto your body does not completely washes your unique scent. I smile, I breathe deeply and I start making my luscious way down to your body, thinking the same thing over and over. Mine. Mine. Mine.
I move my lips lower, kissing the small of your back when I hear you moaning into the air. I stand up and I, gently, turn you around, I look into those big, beautiful blue eyes. That smile on your pink, soft lips that tells me you know what's coming.
I kneel, and I begin making love to you with my lips.
I lose track of time, how long I've been enjoying the feeling of you in my mouth, I do not know. Only when your delicious salty flavor melts on my tongue and the trip of your fingers in my hair tightens I realize how so very close to coming you are. A moan dies on the back of my throat when I feel your orgasm flowing into my willing mouth.
Breathless and shaking, you rest your back against the shower wall, letting me to wrap my arms around your hips. The water, hitting both our bodies lightly washes away all the traces of our passion.
You mean to talk. You clear your throat and for a moment you tear yourself away from me. You smile. So do I.
"I'm glad you stayed."
I nod. I could make a joke, I could break this moment with a mention of heart-broken girlfriends and family disputes, but I won't. I'm here. And he came back. Ron always comes back to me.
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