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You and Me Could Write A Bad Romance	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 6414 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-You and Me Could Write A Bad Romance
- 1
A/N: Written
in response to a lot of conversations I've seen recently on cheesy
words for genitalia! ;-) Title taken from the Lady Gaga song, 'Bad
Romance'.

Pairing: Harry/Ron
Title:
You and Me Could Write a Bad Romance
Word Count:
~5,006
Warnings: Boy talk, language,
wanking, first 'sort of' times.
Summary: Five
boys, a porn story writing challenge, and an issue of logistics.

___

“Quivering lions?” Harry asked,
his voice full of badly repressed laughter.

“What?” Ron growled, peering at the parchment in his
lap. Harry was leaning into his personal space.
“Do you mean
quivering loins?”

Ron hissed beneath his breath as his face burst into flame, and he
scratched the word out and re-wrote it in his usual scrawl.

“I don’t think you can use the word loins,”
Harry was shaking with giggles.

“Why not?” Ron frowned.

“Because… do your loins quiver?”

“My loins are none of your fucking business!”

“What about your lions, then?”

Harry yelped at Ron’s hard smack on his arm, and fell away,
chuckling and reaching for his bottle of beer.

“I need constructive criticism, not being a git,” Ron
threw the parchment and his quill down on the coffee table and picked
up his own beer.

“That was constructive.”

“Laughing at me?”

“Pointing out that your words are really, really poncy.”

“So what would you have said?”

“No way, this isn’t my section to write,” Harry
held his hands up.

“You didn’t write that either,” Ron narrowed his
eyes.

“I got caught up at work.”

“Bollocks,” Ron laughed. “You were in the pub.”

“Getting the scoop on the other entries,” Harry
gestured with his bottle. “And trust me; our story is way
better than anything the others are putting out.”

Ron severely regretted agreeing to the world’s stupidest
challenge. He regretted ever finding a dirty old book when clearing
out his recently departed Auntie Muriel’s loft. More than
anything he regretted taking it to a Friday night pub session
for everyone to laugh at. Seamus had been crowing, Dean had read
excerpts aloud with meaningful expressions and Neville had choked on
a crisp at the word ‘folds’.

That had been the fun part, but then, in his usual drunken stupor,
Seamus had issued a challenge.

“Let’s write our own.”

The plan had been simple, but then ideas had been thrown into the
pot and it became a challenge, then they’d drawn straws, and of
course, he had drawn the straw with ’gaygaygay’ written
on it. Harry had laughed, and been lumped with pairing with him.

“Stupid challenge,” Ron muttered beneath his breath.

“You’re the one that bought the bloody book to the
pub.”

“I know,” he groaned, carding one hand back through
his hair. “But how am I meant to know, Harry? I’ve fucked
a girl, you’ve fucked a girl –let’s not talk about
what girl, mind,” he added quickly, stomach turning as it
always did when he thought about Harry’s past relationship with
his sister, “But have either of us fucked a bloke? No.”

“If we had we wouldn’t have had to have got that book
out of the library,” Harry conceded with a scrunched up face.

“We should take that back, by the way,” Ron chewed his
lip. “It’s a week overdue.”

“Well I’m not taking it back, I got it out.”

“I’m… busy,” Ron shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll just keep the book?” Harry
suggested with raised eyebrows and the lip of his bottle rubbing over
his own.

“Sorted,” Ron winked. “They don’t have our
address, right?”

“I don’t think muggle librarians attack you in your
sleep for a lost book.”

“You just don’t know, Harry, with these bookish
people. Think of Hermione, what she’d do if she was a librarian
and you didn’t bring it back…”

“Maybe we should put some more locks on the door?”

***

Harry’s hair was on end due to all the times he had run his
fingers through it. He was sat at their kitchen table, the illegally
kept library book spread open in front of him, and a very messy piece
of parchment next to the book.

“Stupid idiot, agreeing to write the first sex scene,”
he muttered to himself, reaching for his tea and finding the mug
empty.

Sighing he pulled the book closer. “That can’t be
comfortable,” he cocked his head to one side, following the
line of the two men’s bodies. “So glad I’m not a
girl. Or gay.”

The next time he had sex with a woman, he would feel differently
about hoiking her ankles up onto his shoulders and banging into her.
When he looked at it from a male point of view, and wondered if he
could bend that way, he felt rather selfish.

Groaning he slammed the book shut and glared at it. It wasn’t
helping his inspiration at all. It was then that he heard a key slide
into the front door.

“Only me,” Ron hollered from the hallway.

“Not a crazed librarian then?” Harry hurriedly screwed
up his failed attempt and lobbed it at the swing bin –just to
spite him it hit the flap and landed tellingly on the floor.

“Not going well then?” Ron spotted it immediately and
dumped the shopping bags on the table.

“Come here,” Harry said, frustrated.

Ron backed into the wall and Harry grabbed his chin with such
force that his cheeks bulged and his lips gathered into a pucker.

“’Arry?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Just shut up,” Harry herded closer, and then he
turned Ron’s face to the side forcefully.
“That’s
singularly the most unsexy thing ever,” Ron mumbled and
Harry released him laughing.

“Chin tilting and grabbing is so out,” he made a face.

“No, it doesn’t have to be,” Ron shook his head.
“Just don’t go for me like you’re about to strangle
me.”

Harry froze as Ron’s large hand came up and the fingers
touched lightly to his throat, before sliding up and resting over his
jaw. In a soft, coaxing movement, he tilted Harry’s head over
to the side. Ron’s fingers were startlingly warm and soft,
softer than he had thought a man’s hand would feel on his
cheek.

“See?” Ron grinned smugly. “Just don’t
jump in like you’re trying to put a muzzle on me.”
“You
need a muzzle,” Harry sulked and pulled away.

He tried to ignore the fact that he could still feel the heat from
Ron’s skin on his face ten minutes later.

***

“Can you grind your hips?” Ron thought aloud, over
their desks.
“I thought we agreed not to talk about this at
work? Harry sighed.

“I know, but… can you?”

“What, against somebody?”
“Yeah? Is that an
acceptable describing word, do you think?”

“Don’t see why not… what have you got in mind?”

“Get up,” Ron rose to his feet and kicked their office
door shut with his foot.

“What?”

“Get up,” Ron snapped his fingers and pointed at the
door.

Waiting as Harry slowly got up, Ron bit back his grin. As soon
as his best friend was near, he grabbed him by the shoulders and
threw him with a thump against the closed door. And then he threw
himself.

“Ron!” Harry’s yelp was more surprised than
terrified, and Ron smirked as he rolled his hips.

“That’s grinding, yeah?”

“I’d… I’m not…”

Harry was very red in the face and Ron took a step back. “What’s
the matter with you? I’m just messing around!”

“A bit of warning?” Harry flushed, his eyes oddly
bright.

“You don’t like my hip grinding?” Ron pouted.

“It wasn’t bad, I’ve felt better.”
“You
have not!” Ron let his jaw drop.

A devilish grin spread over Harry’s face, and Ron groaned
when his back thumped into the door.

“You’re a midget,” he glared. “How’d
you do that?”

Ron couldn’t ask anything else; Harry’s hips were
grinding into him with hard pressure, meeting their groins on every
roll, despite the differences in height.

Before he could stop himself, Ron moaned. Harry froze.

“What was that?”
“Erm?” Ron was
well aware he was blushing.

“Did you find that hot?”

“No,” Ron shook his head.

They both jumped when there was a heavy thumping from the other
side of the door.

“Weasley! I need you on a call-out to a spewing toilet in
Upton-on-Severn!”

“Where the fuck is Upton-on-Severn?” Ron whispered
-Harry was still close.

“Gloucestershire? Worcestershire? One of those two.”

“I’m on it!” Ron yelled back through the wood,
and licked his dry lips.

He didn’t notice how Harry’s eyes stalked the movement
of his tongue.

***

“Where’s Ron?” Dean asked as Harry dropped,
exhausted, into his usual chair at the pub.

They eschewed The Leaky Cauldron for a smaller, quieter pub in a
lane off the Alley. There was always too much attention in the main
pub, too many people staring. On Harry’s request the boys had
sought out somewhere more suitable for them to while away their
Friday nights.

“Last I heard he was sorting out a toilet in the Home
Counties,” Harry took the first beautiful mouthful of beer.
“Haven’t heard from him since.”

“So how’s the old porno coming then?” Seamus
waggled his eyebrows, flicking the ash from the cigarette he was
smoking into mid-air.

“Oh Merlin’s arse, it’s a pile of wank,”
Harry snorted through his mouthful. “We keep getting ideas and
then laughing and nothing gets written.”

“Well you know what you have to do if you lose, right?”
Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah, I know, no sex for a month,” Harry screwed
up his face.

“Which is fine, seeing as he hasn’t had a shag for
triple that time anyway!” Seamus grinned.

They fell into shouting banter, heightening the level of volume in
the pub in their playfulness.

“Children, so loud,” Neville arrived in a flurry
of his cloak and dropped down next to Harry. “Where’s
Ron?”

“Got his head down a loo,” Dean stole Seamus’
crisps.

“Fixing a loo,” Harry corrected.

“How’s the porn?”

“Oh will you just get here earlier?” Seamus lobbed a
bottle top at his head.

“How’s your porn?” Harry turned the
tables.

The three of them fell silent and didn’t offer any
information.

“Are we the only ones actually fucking writing?!”
Harry asked in disbelief.

“I’ve been busy,” Dean muttered.

“Drawing naked people? You should have more inspiration than
the rest of us!” Harry protested.

“I’ve been snowed under at work,” Neville picked
aimlessly at his beer mat.

“And I’ve been at me mam’s all week,”
Seamus nodded self-importantly. “Couldn’t really get me
quill out and start scribbling away about pussy, could I?”

“I think we know whose going to lose if he’s using the
word pussy,” Dean whispered loudly.

Harry slumped into his chair as the other three fell into an
argument about which descriptive words were acceptable and which were
cheesy. More than anything Harry realised he missed Ron, who would
have been sniggering at the inclusion of the word testicles.

Surreptitiously he pulled his mobile out of his pocket and slipped
it beneath the table, silently tapping out a text message. It was
unlikely that Ron would answer, or that his mobile would even be
turned on –Ron was still afraid of technology. However, he
pressed ‘send’ and kept the phone in his hand as he
switched it to silent mode.

“So are we going for a bender tonight lads or are we being
reserved?” Dean sat up and slapped his thighs. “My round,
answer now or forever hold your peace.”

“Bender,” Seamus yelled as Neville answered
“Reserved."

“Harry?”

“Reserved, feeling a bit… blergh,” he made a
hand gesture for crap.

“Beer it is, we’ll save the hard stuff for next week,”
Dean got to his feet and headed to the bar.

Harry nearly jumped when the phone went off in his hand. As
Neville and Seamus descended into a conversation bemoaning their work
lives, he glanced at the screen.

‘At home. Toilet gross. Need shower. Can u call a cock
rigid?’

Seeing the word on his phone made Harry rather breathless, and his
own cock gave a tiny twitch in his boxers. Quickly he clicked back a
message.

‘Stay home. 1 pint and I’ll b there. Will bring
food. Cocks can def b rigid.’

“That was Ron, the toilet was manky, he’s staying
home,” Harry reached for the pint Dean held out to him. “I’ll
just have this and be off.”

“Look at you running home to lover boy,” Seamus
smooched at him.

“Going home to get some first hand experience for your
story, eh?” Dean smirked.

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered to his pint.

***

“I think I’ve done the first sex scene!” Ron
shouted excitedly as soon as he heard the front door open. “Where
have you been?”

He got to his feet and ambled into the hallway, to see Harry
locking the door behind him. He grinned at the thought of the
librarians. There was a plastic bag in each of his flatmate’s
hands.

“Food and beer,” Harry explained, holding them up as
he brushed past Ron into the kitchen.

Ron noticed that the brunette sucked his gut in to squeeze past
him without having to make bodily contact and set everything down on
the kitchen table.

“Let me read it then,” Harry turned out his pockets
and shrugged out of his coat. His fingers curled around the parchment
as he lifted it to his eyes.

Anxiety suddenly exploded in the pit of Ron’s belly and he
chewed on his thumbnail, hugging his torso tightly as emerald eyes
slowly scanned the parchment. It might have been his imagination, but
the deep swallow in Harry’s throat was overtly sensual. His
lips parted as he reached the bulk of the scene and one eyebrow
quirked in surprise.

“Wow… that’s… graphic…”
he murmured wispily, blinking twice and looking up at Ron.

“Sort of…” Ron chewed hard into his lip. “I
didn’t know if you’d think it was too much or not…
we can cut it out and re-write it if you don’t like it-”

“It’s brilliant,” Harry shrugged. “Better
than I could have done.”

His best friend’s body turned away then, and Ron blinked. He
definitely did not imagine the hand which slid down the front
of Harry’s body, plunged into his trousers, and –Ron was
pretty sure of it- rearranged his cock.

The thought that his badly written little sex scene might have
turned Harry on took the moisture out of Ron’s mouth. He
couldn’t have said why.

“So, uh…” he decided to try and make
conversation. “What takeaway did you get us?”

“Chinese,” Harry said over his shoulder. “Sweet
and sour pork… rice… prawn toast… the usual…”

“You’re so good to me,” Ron sighed happily,
rummaging in the bag. “Are we using plates or being…
what is it Hermione calls us?”

“Slovenly?” Harry snorted.

“Yeah, are we being slovenly?”

“Most definitely,” Harry recovered himself and began
to rummage for forks.

“So, really,” Ron asked through a mouthful of egg
fried rice five minutes later. “You think it’s good?”

“It’s great,” Harry nodded, taking a swig of
beer.

“I was a bit… worried about it; I thought it might be
too…”

“You mean the part where he blew in his mouth?”

Ron dropped his fork and picked it up again with clumsy fingers.

“I think that was the best part,” Harry’s voice
was quiet.

“And what do you think about the bit after that…?”
Ron closed his lips around a large chunk of sweet and sour pork.

“Um… the position? Or the…”

“Describing?” Ron swallowed.

“It was good,” Harry nodded.

There was a blush in his cheeks.

“But I’m… Xavier is shorter than Daniel,
right?”

“Yeah…”

“So… wouldn’t it hurt for him to put his feet
on his shoulders, or wouldn’t there be a struggle, or…?”

“Bollocks,” Ron chucked down his fork. “I didn’t
think of that! Damned logistics!”

Pouting to his food, Ron let his shoulders slump. He was so sure
that he’d got it right and that the rest of the story would
come easier after that.

“Maybe we could…”

“What?” he looked up glumly.

“No, no it’s stupid,” Harry shook his head and
clutched at his beer bottle.

“Tell me,” Ron wheedled.

“I thought that maybe… you’re tall, and I’m
a bit shorter… if we… sort of…”

“Oh,” Ron blinked. “Try it out?”

“Not naked!”

Harry’s exclamation was loud in the quiet kitchen.

“After dinner?” Ron gingerly picked up his fork.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, and then, as though he thought
he might be doing so a little too enthusiastically, he jerked to a
stop and looked at his food. “Is this weird?”

“We’re just researching,” Ron mused. “And
there’s nothing wrong with research, right? Hermione researches
all the time…”

Harry snorted, and then Ron laughed, and soon they were both
cackling.

“I doubt Hermione does research like this,” Harry
chuckled.

“I can’t eat this now,” Ron pushed the plate
away. “Come on. Bring your beer.”

“My room or yours?” Harry said leeringly.

“Your room clean?” Ron raised an eyebrow.

“Sort of. Yours?”

“I don’t think I even have a floor…”

“My room it is!” Harry shoved open the door.

Ron stood poised on the threshold and took a deep breath. The
bedroom smelt thoroughly of Harry, the woody, musky scent which,
before they’d started writing their stupid story, Ron had never
really considered before.

However, that day he’d smelt it all the way to
Upton-on-Severn. And the regurgitating toilet had been considerably
better for it.

***

“Right,” Harry took a deep breath and dropped onto his
back, wriggling further up the bed. It didn’t matter but he was
suddenly glad that he’d changed the sheets at the weekend.
“You’ve got to come in between my legs”

He blushed, realising what he’d just said, and Ron sniggered
as he kneeled onto the mattress. Harry took the moment that Ron
reached back to push his hair out of his face to sneakily appreciate
his best friend’s body. Ron was long and lean but no longer the
gangly teenager he had been during the war; his frame was adorned
with wiry muscles and definition on his chest which showed through
his tight t-shirt. The flaming hair wasn’t properly dried from
the hasty shower Ron had taken and curled lightly on his shoulders.

“You’re staring at me,” Ron grinned.

“No I’m not,” Harry looked up at the ceiling.

He jumped when he felt hot hands on the underside of his thighs.
“These have to be up,” Ron said softly, and his long
fingers pushed Harry’s legs up to his body, and trailed to
capture his ankles.

His trousers fell back and Ron’s fingers seemed too tender
on the skin of his ankles. Harry didn’t say anything as his
legs were dragged vertical. Ron held them there, shifted closer and
dropped Harry’s feet over his shoulders.

“Oh,” Harry breathed. Ron’s crotch rubbed
against him as they held the position.

“Not weird at all,” Ron’s voice was quiet.

“No, it’s…”

“Kind of…”

“Good.”

They breathed the approval together and then Harry saw
the bulge in the front of Ron’s jeans. It was embarrassing when
he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Surely something that big might
burst the zipper?

“You’re…” Harry didn’t bother to
pretend he hadn’t seen.
“So are you,” Ron said
defensively, and Harry blushed when he felt what Ron was talking
about.

They said nothing, and neither of them moved, though their
respective bulges didn’t diminish.

“So I guess we should…” Ron rocked forward
slightly.

Harry didn’t know what made him do it, but in a second he
had flung his legs wide, Ron’s support was gone, and he fell
forward, crashing onto Harry’s torso. And really, when their
lips met, it was more of an incident than a planned move.

The moan, however, was a different story. From the second that
Ron’s slightly roughened lips touched Harry’s, the
approval built in his throat, and there was no way that he could stop
it. When Ron returned it, and squirmed on top of him, Harry winced at
the pressure in his pants.

“Ow!” he mumbled, as their teeth smashed together and
his cock hit the waistband of his trousers.

“Fuck,” Ron groaned, trying to move and knocking their
foreheads with a thud.

They both froze, caught each other’s eyes, and burst out
laughing.

“Oh this is so not like the story,” Ron howled,
rolling off of Harry onto his back and snorting into his hand.

“It’s like… the opposite of sexy… Oh…”
Harry turned and collided with Ron’s body again, and the
laughter heightened.

“This is so…” Ron snorted ungracefully. “Bad…
oh god…”

“I just kissed you…” Harry choked.

“And I kissed you…”

“And I rubbed my cock on you…”

“And I rubbed… my cock… on you…”

Harry half-flopped over Ron’s chest as his redheaded best
friend began to cackle, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes
with his mirth. He watched with fascination as the moisture swelled
and trickled down the sides of Ron’s face. His breath caught in
his throat.

Now that was fucking beautiful.

“H-Harry?” Ron giggled.

“Ron…” Harry lifted his face and, to try and
show Ron that he had learnt something from their ridiculous foray
into erotic literature, he smoothed his hand up to cup Ron’s
cheek in his palm.

The action stilled Ron completely, and sapphire eyes glued
themselves to Harry’s face.

“You’re looking at me,” he whispered.

“You’re touching me…” Ron pointed out.

“Uh-huh.”

Suddenly all the humour in their situation was gone as Harry
looked down into the pale freckled face, and for the first time in
his life, truly looked at it. Ron had tiny wrinkles forming in the
corners of his eyes; his nose was long, like his eyelashes, which
were a brighter red than his hair. Lips Harry had seen every day of
his life for ten years were fuller, plumper than he’d ever
noticed. They were slightly red, and the thought that they were
exerted from his kiss made him harder.

A delicious blush crept onto Ron’s cheeks and he looked
away, uncomfortable with Harry’s obvious scrutiny.

“You’re really good looking,” Harry murmured
stupidly, and then blushed himself.
“Well… er…
so are you,” Ron still did look back.

“I’ve embarrassed you,” Harry cringed and made
to pull away, but was surprised when Ron’s lean arms came up
around him and held him in place.
“A bit but it’s not…
your fault, my fault…” Ron finally looked up, but
his eyes were shy, almost demure.

“I could so make a blushing virgin joke,” Harry
murmured, and kissed Ron again.

“How d’you know I’m a virgin?” Ron
breathed, tugging Harry flush on top of him, reversing their original
positions.

“I know you’re not with a girl,” Harry dared to
kiss the soft skin of Ron’s cheek. “But with a bloke?”

“Yeah you got me,” Ron scrunched him his face, more
adorably than Harry would ever admit. “But so are you unless
you’ve been holding out on me…”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“If you had writing that fucking story wouldn’t have
been so sodding hard,” Ron burst out. “That book, Harry,
it’s mortifying and the blokes –oh god, they look like
they’ve spent their lives in a gym…”

“Never eaten sweet and sour pork…” Harry kissed
him.

“And never…” Ron groaned against Harry’s
lips. “Never heard of the idea that men are meant to be a bit
hairy…”

“You like hairy?” Harry rocked their groins together.

“Might,” Ron blushed again and swiped his tongue over
his lower lip nervously.

Harry stared at it intently. Surely nothing should look so damn
enticing? Leaning forward he took it between his own lips and sucked
lightly. Ron moaned. He sucked harder. Fingernails dug through his
shirt.

“So what are we…?” Harry looked into Ron’s
eyes.

“I don’t know,” Ron shook his head. The hair
closest to his face fell back, smoothing onto the bed in a blaze of
crowning fire.

“If I were going to describe you,” Harry tilted his
head to one side with a wry smile, “For our story… I’d
say at the minute that your creamy skin was flushed and that your
eyes were sparkling like the sea.”

“Are my eyes sparkling like the sea?” Ron asked
dubiously.

“Well mostly they look a bit dark and like you’re
really horny… I’ve seen that look before… but not
from you about me…”

“Your eyes look the same, but I would call them glittering
emeralds.”

“Ooh, nice,” Harry nodded with wide eyes. “Very
good.”

“Our story,” Ron brought his arm up to wrap
around Harry’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “Is
going to kick their arses. We’re so going to win,” he
kissed Harry again. “So, so going to win.”

“Because we’re going to act it out?”

Harry’s suggestion hovered in the air. Ron looked up at him
with wide eyes.

“Or not,” he backpedalled immediately, cursing his
stupid mouth.

“Alright.” Ron looked up at him.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered.

“Oh, do you not-”

“Your eyes are really bright,” Harry snogged
him.

***

That afternoon, when he’d thought about how Harry’s
hands might feel sliding over his hips as he tended to a magically
broken toilet, Ron didn’t imagine it could feel as good as it
did. Both of them had somehow lost their tops along the way and his
nipples could have cut glass, but when Harry touched him, it was
amazing.

It might have taken his breath away, though he’d never admit
it. However, he did store the phrase for the story.

“Oh gods,” he mumbled, arching his spine and shoving
their groins together.

Harry rolled with him, even though his mouth was occupied sucking
at Ron’s throat.

“I have got to get these jeans off!” Ron groaned,
bucking his hips hard and shivering in Harry’s arms.

“Evanesco!”

Ron cringed at the shocked yelp he let out, but when Harry writhed
against him, completely naked –ohgodohgodohfuckyes!

“Uh!”

There was none of the graceful sighing that they’d been
writing about, Ron felt an idiot as he thought about it and how
bloody raw they both sounded as they rolled about on the bed
together. There was barely anything as graceful as they had imagined.
Harry was sweating like a pig, and he wasn’t far behind, and
neither had fresh breath on account of the late hour.

When Harry’s fingers, which he would never think small or
slender again, wrapped around his cock for the first time, Ron hated
the story. He’d change everything to write about the way that
hand felt on his skin, the way his foreskin was tugged and it hurt,
but also felt so good; he knew he wasn’t likely to make
it to his ankles on Harry’s shoulders. Or the other way round.

Fumbling he flung his hand between them and grasped at Harry,
teasing a gasp from the thoroughly reddened lips. The staining bled
out around the soft skin and marred it, like smudged lipstick.

But so much hotter than smudged lipstick. And none of it’s
fucking on me.

“I hate lipgloss,” Ron breathed beneath his breath.

“What?” Harry’s face was marred with pleasure.

“I hate fucking sticky lipgloss! It gets stuck everywhere!”
Ron grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as Harry’s pressure
increased on his cock.

“So, I’ll get rid of my collection, then?” Harry
prevented him from replying with another kiss.

Ron was too hot. Even though he had just showered, he could smell
his own sweat, he could smell it mingling with Harry’s sweat,
and what’s more, it smelt good.

“Noooo,” he moaned. “I’m becoming
scary porno man… your sweat… smells… good!”

The last word was half-screamed the room as Harry jerked one last
time and Ron spilt over both of their stomachs.

“Oh shit!” Harry’s eyes flew wide before
his head tipped back and he added his contribution to the mess in
between them.

Ron watched in foggy fascination as Harry shivered through his
finish. And then he caught him when he collapsed in a sticky heap on
his chest.

Both of them were panting, hard, but there was nothing rhythmic
about it, nothing melodical. It sounded like they’d gone ten
rounds with one another instead of partaking in a joint wank.

“I’m really out of shape,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Harry’s murmur was muffled; his face
was buried in Ron’s chest.

“Or maybe it was just… dead good?”

When Harry looked up at him, glasses askew and hair stuck in
unattractive clumps to his forehead, and a blush over his entire
face, his emerald eyes were indeed glittering.

“You’re right,” he murmured after an intense
moment of staring.

“About what?” Ron frowned, tucking his chin into his
chest as his head lolled slightly to the side.

“We’re so going to win.”

Harry kissed him again.

***

Harry flew upright in the bed with a cry of surprise. The bed next
to him was empty, and the door was open. He blinked stupidly in the
daylight pouring in through the window. Was it morning?

“Apparently,” he muttered as he rolled out of the bed.
He was naked and there was something dried and sticky on his belly.
“Oh…”

Heat flared back to life in his cheeks as he stumbled into the
hallway, and Ron was still laughing in the kitchen.

“What? Whatsshappenin’?” Harry blurted.

“Read this,” Ron slid a note sideways across the table
to him.

Harry tried his hardest to focus, but his glasses were in the
bedroom. He could make out an elegant, looping script.

‘Dear Harry and Ron,

Firstly, Ron, there are two p’s in nipple.

Secondly, Harry, don’t you think ‘penis’ is
rather clinical for this sort of literature?

Thirdly, you two should really block your Floo if you don’t
want visitors whilst you’re doing research for this no doubt
award-winning novella.

Fourthly, you can thank me for the silencing charm this
afternoon.

Fifthly, I ate the rest of your dinner.

We will be talking about this very soon.

Love,

Hermione.’

“Oh…” Harry dropped the note and looked at the
story on the kitchen table.

Ron grinned at him and pulled him close. Harry realised than that
he wasn’t the only one in the nude.

“So what if the story sucks,” Ron murmured against his
lips. “We didn’t.”

“I so want to say something cheesy,” Harry winced.

“Don’t,” Ron growled, and pressed him back into
the kitchen worktop, and shoved his tongue inside Harry’s
mouth.

-fin-
- 1
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You and Me Could Write A Bad Romance