The Dance of Eros | By : GatorBoy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2170 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: The Dance of Eros, Chapter Three “Relief Efforts”
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That privilege lies
with J.K. Rowling. This story is not intended to break any copyright laws, nor
is it being used to make money.
Author’s Notes: Just finished another semester in college,
so I decided to do some writing over the break! I hope you enjoy!
Story Notes: Takes place during their fourth year, but not
meant to coincide with the events in “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire;”
sort of an alternate universe, if you’d like.
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Harry, Draco/Ron/Harry, maybe a
mention of Fred/George (hey, who can resist that?)
Rated: NC-17, eventually.
Contains: Romance, homosexuality, masturbation, sex,
profanity, and a right little bit of me showing off my astronomy knowledge
(stupid college…don’t they know that a little bit of knowledge can be a
dangerous thing in my hands???).
* * *
Harry and
Ron did not speak to each other for a very long time after the events of that
one fateful September evening, except for the occasional greeting and the
everyday things like, “Could you pass the toast?” However, Harry knew that they
would have to talk about what happened eventually.
September
moved into October, and the weather became chiller and wet. With the approach
of Halloween, Harry felt that this was the most depressed he had ever been at
Hogwarts before the holiday festivities. Hermione had, very unfortunately,
noticed as well, and kept confronting both Ron and Harry about it, sometimes seeming
to jump out at them from nowhere in order to surprise them and try to get an
honest response.
Harry came
into the common room one day after a particularly grueling Quidditch practice
out in the ice cold rain with Angelina Johnson, who had replaced Oliver Wood as
captain, and the rest of the Gryffindor team lagging behind him. They were all
too tired to do anything but trudge their way across the room towards the
stairs, but Harry stopped suddenly at the sound of his own name coming from
somewhere near the fireplace.
“Talk to
Harry, Ron! He’s your best friend! Please talk to him! It’s becoming
maddening!” Hermione pleaded with Ron. But there seemed to be no reasoning with
him.
Ron turned
to her looking as if he were about to say something, but then caught sight of
Harry standing there and whatever it was he was about to say seemed to get
stuck in his throat on the way out. He simply stared at Harry until Hermione
noticed that she was not getting a response and decided to look over her
shoulder at whatever he was gazing at so intently.
“Harry…”
She breathed out.
He casually
shouldered his Firebolt, which he had been given as a present the year before,
and continued on and up the stairs. When he got to his shared room, he was glad
to find it empty for the moment. He picked up a towel, tossed his broom onto
his bed, and proceeded to peel off his dripping Quidditch robes, tossing them
into the basket next to his bed. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he
grabbed the handle of the small container with his toiletries and left the
drafty dorm room heading straight for the boys’ bathroom, only half a flight of
stairs up from his room.
The
bathroom was also, gratefully, deserted, and he went straight to the shower
farthest from the door. He set his towel on the hook, and placed the tiny
plastic box with his shampoo and soap down on the floor next to him. Turning on
the hot water, he sighed as it left burning trails down his ice-cold skin.
That jerk,
I can’t believe he still won’t talk to me after that night…he won’t even
acknowledge what he did! I wasn’t the one who started it; he kissed me!
Not the other way around! Similar thoughts kept blazing through Harry’s
mind, but it all brought him back to the same thing eventually. He kept
thinking of Ron’s lips pressed to his own, the heat from his tongue sliding
back and forth across his, and their bodies held tight against each other.
Harry’s
thoughts of malice soon came to an abrupt halt as he realized that the thoughts
of Ron and what had happened between them had begun to arouse him. He could
feel the pressure building up in his manhood, the sensitive skin of the head
straining against the foreskin. He reveled in the feeling this produced, and then,
after a while, he reached down with one hand, lightly teased the thin flesh
between his fingertips, and then he pulled back on his cock, the relief in
pressure making him gasp.
His eyes
fluttered shut as he slid his hand up and down, gently applying pressure at the
bottom, and bringing it all the way to the tip. He ran his other hand across
his chest, kneading his muscles in his abdomen. When his fingers softly brushed
against a nipple, he sucked in a quick breath of air, then moaned quietly when
he took the sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it.
In his
mind’s eye, he kept seeing the events of that one night over and over. He
imagined what would have happened if it had not stopped; if he and Ron had
given over to their hormonal urges and made love right there on the Hogwarts
lawn, their passion heated skin exposed to the humid September air. He thought
about what it would be like to lick Ron’s tender flesh, to take one of his
nipples between his teeth and the sounds that he would elicit from him. He let
his mind continue wandering, imagining his tongue coming to a rest on the
button to Ron’s pants.
Finally,
the pants came loose and only one thing was stopping Harry from reaching his
ultimate goal. His hands tugged at the silky material of Ron’s boxers, pulling
them down past his knees and he saw Ron’s sensual, pale flesh bound into sight,
the skin pulled tight against his straining cock, a bit of milky white liquid
dripping from the tip showing his need. The sight of this, even in his mind,
was nearly enough to send Harry careening over the edge as his hand quickened
its pace up and down his own cock.
Both in the
real world and in Harry’s mind, he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and
flicked out his tongue, but in his mind his tongue lapped at the fluid dripping
from Ron’s cock, though Harry could swear he could really taste it. He once
more imagined the sounds Ron would make when he did this, and found that those
sounds, more than anything else, aroused him the most. He pushed his tongue
underneath the foreskin of Ron’s cock and ran it between the skin and the head,
finally coming to a rest at the slit on the tip of it. He wiggled his tongue
until then end of it was as far inside the small slit as it could go, the
salty, bitter taste of Ron’s juices dancing over his taste buds.
The hand
moving over his chest suddenly began to travel lower, past the hand that was
frantically pumping his throbbing cock, pushing the foreskin over the head, and
then pulling it back once more, the friction driving him slowly insane. His
hand continued further on until it found his balls, taking them into his hand
and pulling on them gently, then massaging them together in his palm. He knew
he could not last much longer with his hands pleasuring his body, and the
thoughts of Ron pleasuring his mind.
After
teasing Ron with his tongue, he saw himself going down on him, his mouth
engulfing Ron’s cock, going further and further until finally, after some time,
all of Ron’s impressive manhood was in his mouth. Moans and gasps told him that
Ron was as near to his climax as Harry was to his standing in the shower. He
bobbed his head up and down the shaft, pushing his nose completely into the
soft, red curls at the base, inhaling Ron’s scent, and the pulling up again,
only to go back down until Ron was brushing the back of his throat. One of
these times, when Ron was in his mouth completely, he started to hum, gently at
first, but growing louder after a few seconds when he heard Ron shout his name.
The thought
of this was almost too much for him, as he could feel more and more liquid
dripping out of his cock slicking his hand as it rubbed against it. His other
hand squeezed almost painfully hard at his balls, but he found he liked it,
sucking in air between clenched teeth.
Next, he
tried swallowing at Ron’s cock, but this seemed to be all that Ron could take.
He screamed Harry’s name and brought a hand to the back of Harry’s head,
holding him down as warm, thick liquid hit the back of his throat in spurts,
leaving a warm trail in his throat as it slid down. Now, imagining Ron shouting
his name in ecstasy and releasing his juices inside of him, Harry bit his lip
to keep from screaming Ron’s name at the top of his lungs, sure to attract the
attention of every Gryffindor in the dormitory, and shot his seed against the
wall of the shower, where the water carried it away and down the drain.
He
collapsed on the tile floor, his legs too weak to hold him up after such an
intense experience. He managed to crawl over to the wall, and propped himself
up against it, the hot water beating down on his overheated skin. A glance down
showed him that his cock was already softening after the orgasm, and he saw a
bit of his own cum resting on his dark curls. He caught it between his fingers
and tentatively brought it to his lips, never having actually done this.
He touched
his fingertip with his tongue and found that it was not unpleasant and
immediately sucked it all off. As he did this, he imagined that this must be similar
to what Ron tasted like, and he found that he would really like to try the real
thing to be sure.
After
resting for a bit, he stood back up and quickly finished showering, soaping up his
body, cleaning himself between his legs, the contact bringing a stirring to his
loins, but he ignored it and continued washing up. After shampooing his hair,
he turned off the water and grabbed his towel, drying himself off from head to
toe. He finally realized that he forgot to grab any clothes on his way out of
the dorm room, but it did not much matter as everyone should be asleep by now,
given how long he had spent in the shower.
He made his
way back to his room and quietly opened the door, which was a feat in itself
since Harry swore the doors of Hogwarts were somehow enchanted to creak and
make other attention-getting noises. Seeing that everyone was, as he had
figured, asleep, he tiptoed across the room towards his bed and gently pulled
on one of his dresser drawers. Taking out a pair of pajamas, he took off his
towel and placed it on top of his Quidditch robes in the laundry basket. Before
he had a chance to put on his shirt, however, he got the distinct feeling that
he was being watched. He quickly turned in the direction of Ron’s bed and swore
he saw, for a split second, Ron watching him, but he immediately dismissed as a
trick of the light, as moonlight was streaming in from the window behind him
directly onto Ron’s bed, partly illuminating his face, and casting the other
part into shadow. He also figured that it might have been his mind playing
tricks on him after the experience he had just had in the shower.
Harry
finished putting on his clothes and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to
his chin and shut his eyes. He immediately fell asleep, but, in his mind, he
continued to see himself and Ron rolling around in the damp grass on the lawn,
their bare skin shining in the moonlight, and their bodies eternally entwined.
* * *
Author’s Notes: Well, that’s the end of this chapter! I know
this one’s a bit shorter than the first two, but I didn’t think anyone would
mind! ^_^ I wrote this at about 2:00 AM on the morning of my 19th
birthday, so that’s where it seemingly stops. But, chapter four will be brand
new material. I’ll begin working on it tomorrow after I’ve finished my
macroeconomics test.
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