Ron...asleep | By : Hewigkeit Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Ron Views: 27011 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: No money is being made out of this. The Potterverse is the sole property of J.K.Rowling. |
...
Harry sighed, shifting his weight on the mattress. His shirt was sticky from the stale, damp air of Ronald's room. He groaned, for opening the windows was not an option, unless one wanted mosquitoes, among other things, to snack on them.
He considered going downstairs so he could have some cold water, apple juice, something, anything fresh would've been welcome. Also, when not in the room, it'd prevent him from reaching out and do... inadvisable stuff. Perspiration shone on his forehead, small drops gliding down his neck and onto the flat, stained pillow. Both from heat and undisclosed desire.
The clock on the night-stand red 03:00 a.m.
Harry hit his head against the pillow, 'Shit.'
There was a clinging sound followed closely by some groans and Harry wished yet again for the Weasley not to be so soft-hearted and kill the damn ghoul that squatted the attic once and for all. Or at the very least, kick its ass out of the Burrow.
The thing in the attic went like 'Grorwlorreee!', causing plaster to come crumbling down from the ceiling as it jumped up and down. Harry's frustrated glare had no effect but for the dust to settle more easily in his wide open, angry eyes.
'Christ!' careful not to rub his lids and take it deeper, Harry focused on crying to get out most of the stuff in the less painful manner. Up there the ghoul's groans grew in intensity. Swearing, Harry creaked out of his bed, grabbing his wand and made for the door, flimsy stockings and scorned pages somehow muffling his steps, turned the knob and -
Silence.
Harry froze, seeking out any noises beside Ron's snores which he could hear quite well. Not one to wake up at the slightest disturbance, Ronald. No sir, indeed. Sleep troubles was a concept he had difficulty grasping, considering it never happened to him. A shaft of moonlight streaked the freckled face, the sweat catching the light.
Now, that didn't help Harry to feel fresher in any way, did it? More like, hotter and hotter. He needed something to chill, to curl his hands around and drink. His breath caught in his throat and stayed there while his brain liquefied and his hands shook. Ron slept like the baby of the saying, except no part of him had any babyish attributes. Big hands, big arms, big feet and big -
Harry swallowed around the dry lump in his throat and knelt besides his mate Ron was curled up on his right side, his back to Harry, the yellow-brown-whatever blanket folded around his legs with one big foot sticking out. Pigwidgeon hooted in its cage, its eyes following Harry's movements like a curious child and he could feel his cheeks pinking. What he did was hardly noble. But Ron was there, and he needed – wanted – craved to –
He reached out with shaky fingers, probing the blanket and feeling the warmth of Ronald's body, the shape of his member through the underwear. Harry had trouble breathing, neck frozen stiff and eyes bulging out he was so very f---- nervous. Much more than with Riddle's gigantic killing pet. This time, he was not a Hero.
He knew there was no way for him to get caught. But the fear he felt was not rational and it was also very real. If, IF Ronald woke up...
Pale, freaked out and horribly turned on, Harry began to unwrap Ron from the blanket, throwing it away among their discarded pants and school papers laying on the floor. Then he could see smooth white skin peeking out from under the cotton underwear and he squeezed Ron's shaft through the soft material, eyes closed, just feeling. He could almost see it in his mind, surrounded by red curls with the foreskin -what an ugly word- neatly in place. Or perhaps not, perhaps Ron was cut.
Rolling his eyes at himself for thinking like a strung out little whore, Harry hooked his finger and pulled, and then Ron's limp manhood was in plain sight, his for the taking; Harry's own member throbbing against his boxer he took Ron in his hand, unsheathed the head and revelling in the here and now, his mate's mem-- fuck it, COCK, his mate's cock, Ron's cock in his palm, warm and pulsing. Ron moaned something and his head lolled from side to side as Harry stroked him slowly, watching the skin licking the tip in a wet embrace each time his hand moved up. If the size of his things were anything to go by, he hadn't shoot for a week. If only he could have some...
Tentatively, he licked the vein that run from top to bottom, sucked on the sac, his hand pulling on Ron's sex.
'Son ofabitch...,' Harry stopped, blood turning cold as Ron continued to mumble, 'geroff.'
What the - ? Was he awake, was he dreaming about some nasty jerk pissing him off? Relishing his grip, he looked at Ron's slack face but he remained silent. Meanwhile, Harry's heart threatened to tear a hole through his chest. But he could not give up now. The heavy cock rose invitingly, gliding up Ron's leg toward his stomach.
Harry gulped and drew the skin back with feverish lips, drowning in the scent of Ron, of his filling his mouth, gaining length while Harry grabbed his sac, fondling away and moaning around the young redhead.
'Mmmmbrlrr. Hot... fuck.' Harry glanced upwards; Ron was frowning and his whole face had a tenseness about it as he rolled over. Tried to. Harry's hand stopped that from happening, although with much apprehension and fear. But he was too far gone to really care.
Ron.
In his mouth, his hand, in him.
That was all that mattered. Ron stiffened and soon Harry couldn't fit all of it and jerked what he couldn't take. The rounded head butting against his palate drove him wild and he tried to deep-throat his mate, all of him, give it to me Ron.
Later, he worried the nipples, small and flat and Christ he wanted more. Always more. Sucked them till they were eager for more and teased Ron's thighs until they tensed and quivered. Ron's cock was arching up, fully erected and skin pushed back to reveal the moist head and Harry, to lick and try every trick he knew to get what he wanted, to see Ron's toes curl and his legs seize up. Ron's heavy balls were moving up and down, Harry's thumb caressing the slit on the swelling tip, tasting the clear drops oozing out. He wanted -More-.
'Fuck!'
Ron's groan started low in his throat, spilling out in a moan as he went all stiff and came, heels digging into the mattress.
Though he had expected it, the shot got Harry by surprise and he gagged. Gross. Then it sank in, what he had just done. He had caused Ron to come and perhaps even climaxed. He owned him, so to speak. Wiping his mouth, and smiled in the darkness.
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