![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneSaturday evening I was meandering through my flist and saw that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
satindolls was pleading for someone to write smut for the "I Touch Myself" challenge at The Quidditch Pitch. Since I'm between stories and had two hours between church and the Mozart concert I sang in yesterday, I rose to said challenge! I suppose this is a belated entry. The story is set within my "Fling Wide the Whirlwind" universe about a year before that story starts. Nothing redeemable here, it's pure PWP.
Title: With and Without You
Pairing: Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Indian takeout in hand, Ron plunked down on the sofa. He realised he was missing something; two somethings, really, but one he could remedy.
"Accio ale," he said, pointing his wand at the refrigerator. A cold bottle flew to him which he opened and swigged with relish. He couldn't Accio Harry, however. He was off in Scandinavia for a fortnight, taking the Green Knights team to play in some international tournaments. Harry had been gone for ten days already. It wasn't that Ron was pining for him or anything, but he really did miss his company. Since defeating Voldemort and especially since their handfasting, Harry had become a truly cheerful person. His usually sunny disposition and enthusiasm evidently made a powerful impact on Ron, who had become a bit mopey with Harry's absence. He dug into his dinner and began skimming through Quagmire's Quidditch Quarterly. Assaulted both by his spicy food and cosmic irony, Ron noticed that Harry's much-awaited interview was on page thirty-six. He flipped to the page, his partner's face beaming from a quarter-page picture accompanying the article. It was well written; Harry would be pleased.
"Maybe I can fire call him at his hotel tonight," Ron said aloud. He waved his hand in front of his mouth. "This curry's really fucking hot!" he exclaimed, downing half his ale in one go. He finished his meal, unable to take his gaze away from Harry's smiling, optimistic expression. If Harry were here, he'd have taken him out for celebratory drinks and then given him a memorable, equally celebratory shag.
"Guess you'll have to wait," Ron said mournfully to his groin where his cock had decided to show a modicum of interest in the sadly nonexistent celebratory shagging. "No sex for you yet." As though to appease his neglected cock, Ron palmed the slight mound. "Four more days," he promised, "and you'll be back in action, rogering Harry until he's begging."
Spurred on by his erotic monologue, Ron's erection began hardening in earnest. Ron moaned in frustration. He just didn't wank very often anymore. Sometimes he and Harry would do it together before other things, and Ron did enjoy taking himself in hand when he went down on Harry. Which he really loved. He adored the tangy taste and how he always ended up with drool going down his chin as he licked and sucked Harry's hard flesh and… Merlin's balls! Why was he thinking about all of this stuff when Harry was gone?!
"Fine!" he said, surrendering to his impossible libido. He ran his thumb over the noticeable bulge straining against his flies. "Better than nothing, I suppose."
Ron finished his ale and headed back to their bedroom. As he stripped off his trousers and pants, a recent gift from Harry came to mind. It was kinky and had led to bruising sex when he got it. Harry had given it to him just for occasions like this, thoughtful bloke that he was. Ron glanced down at his jutting erection as he padded over to his chest of drawers.
"Shameless, you are."
He rummaged through his sock drawer until he found the unique toy. Reverently Ron held it in his palm, feeling an obligatory need to kiss it and run his tongue along the bulbous head.
"What'll you think of next, Harry?" he asked metaphorically, gazing at the golden replica of Harry's erect penis. Ron had never put anything in his bum besides a lubed finger or two until he and Harry had finally come clean about their true feelings for each other at age 17 and began exploring each other with insatiable energy. Even so, only in the past few years had they tried experimenting with things like butt plugs and dildos. Ron could definitely put this gift to use now, letting his imagination run rampant and his energy be stoked by arousal and how illicit it all seemed.
"Need lube," he muttered, tossing the dildo on the bed where it landed with a satisfying whump. Harry had spared no expense in getting it made; Ron hadn't asked where or how, but he knew it couldn't have come cheaply as the outside really felt like skin and the weight to it was exactly as though it were attached to the rest of Harry.
Ron was getting more turned on by the second. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair before dimming the lights in the room and sitting on the bed. A bedside table drawer held a couple of different kinds of lubricant; he chose the one with pine oil as he liked the smell. Anything woodsy, truthfully, was his favourite, especially since he and Harry had shagged outdoors in forests on multiple occasions. He poured a healthy dollop into his hand, making sure all of his fingers were coated before leaning back into the pile of pillows and at last stroking his rock hard cock.
He sighed with pleasure, eyes closed as he pulled up and down on the pliant skin, his slippery hand holding the perfect pressure around his erection. He paused to run his thumb over the head, smearing the milky fluid around the top. Ron lazily opened his eyes, regarding the familiar sight of his freckled fingers wrapped around the shiny skin of his shaft. He quite liked his cock — he'd seen his share of varieties of shapes and features during his Quidditch days at Hogwarts and felt he'd done pretty well in the overall attractiveness regard. When aroused, like now, his penis thrust upward nearly perfectly straight, not too long nor too wide as to look freakish but substantive enough to bring loads of pleasure to Harry. And himself.
He closed his eyes again, luxuriating in the feel of his fingers on his erection, the nerves all firing as he expertly pumped himself. Ron imagined Harry watching him as he slid his hand from the top to the bottom, holding the base for a moment and fondling his sacs with his other hand.
"So fucking sexy," Harry would say, his voice lower than usual. Ron could never get enough of that 'shag me now' quality Harry's voice took on when he was randy. Ron just couldn't get enough of Harry, period. They'd been together thirteen years and yet he still held his breath those first few seconds when he pushed into Harry's hot channel. Ron was always mesmerised, watching his aching cock as it slid in and out of Harry's body…
"Harry, fuck," he now groaned. He'd stimulated himself quickly and he still hadn't even touched the dildo. Panting, he slowed his motions on his cock, the sensitive, throbbing flesh demanding release, but he wanted to draw out the moment. He sat up and retrieved the golden phallus, liberally coating it with oil. He spread his legs, relaxing his arse as he circled his entrance with the gift, imagining Harry was there, murmuring all sorts of dirty, loving things about how hard he was going to fuck Ron.
"Oh yeah," Ron sighed, easing the dildo past the ring of muscle until it was fully inside him. His right hand wandered back to his erection, languidly fisting it as his body adjusted to the intrusion in his arse and the burning feeling subsided. Feeling brazen, as though wanking alone in his own bedroom was somehow daring and not perfectly normal, he pulled the dildo out partway and pushed it back in, moaning with pleasure as he angled it to hit the nerve center that sent sparks of heat pulsing straight to his cock.
"Harry," he growled, beginning to bugger himself in earnest, his erection temporarily forgotten. Ron adored it when Harry was slow and deep and thorough, ploughing into Ron's anus with a predatory gleam in his eye. Out and in, again and again Ron pulled the dildo nearly outside of himself and thrust it back, his muscles clenching around it.
"Fuck, gonna have to come," he gasped into the empty room. In his haste to pour more of the lubricant on his hand some of it spilled, creating a fragrant puddle. Ron's imagination was going full tilt now. He felt Harry deep inside of him, and lavished attention back on his cock, fisting it with fast, jerking motions. It was as though the rest of his body had vanished; all of Ron's senses were centred in his arse, cock and balls. His anus throbbed, squeezing around the lifelike cock; the slick smacking noises of his palm and fingers pistoning his shaft sounded deliciously of sex.
"I can tell you're about to come," he heard the Harry in his mind say. "Do it, Ron, love to see your face when you let go."
The tension was coiled in Ron's sacs, like a cat poised to spring at an unsuspecting bird. They were a dam of pressure; currents of ecstasy crisscrossed his cock as he felt his orgasm rush up his shaft, the release bursting out of him at last.
"Fuck, Harry, Merlin!" Ron yelled, the waves of pleasure ebbing out of him with slowing slides of his hand. The slightly acrid scent of his ejaculate wafted hazily up to his nose. Strings of white come were smeared all over his stomach and his hand was coated in the viscous fluid. Apparently the stuff built up if he didn't have sex on a regular basis. For long moments he rested, fingers circling the base of his spent erection as he caught his breath. Small aftershocks shuddered through him as his body fitfully settled back into its usual unaroused state.
Ron winced as he carefully pulled out the dido; he'd been a bit more vigourous than he'd realised while caught up in the moment. He cast a thorough Scourgify on himself and the bed. He wanted to take extra care with his sex toy, so he took it into the bathroom and washed it in the sink. He dried it gently with a towel, rolling his eyes when he noticed he was treating it as though it were real.
"Sure feels real. Felt real," he corrected himself. "I'll be glad when he one connected to Harry is back, though."
After splashing some water on his face and putting on his bedclothes, Ron went to their fireplace to fire call Harry. While the Norwegian concierge went away to find Harry, Ron poured himself a small tumbler of firewhiskey and went back to wait on the hearth. Moments later Harry's face appeared.
"Hey Ron! How're things?"
"All right. Your article in Triple Q came out. It's really good." Ron held up the magazine so Harry could see the pages.
"Excellent! I'll pick up a copy in Oslo. D'you miss me?"
Ron could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was giving him a hard time. A shifting of his arse on the floor gave him a pleasant reminder of his earlier activities, though, so he played along.
"Yeah, but I found a way to entertain myself."
"Did you now?" Harry's expression was both curious and lascivious.
"Yup. Used that toy you gave me." Ron waggled his eyebrows.
"Oh." Harry definitely looked interested in that bit of news. "How was it?"
"Not as good as the real thing of course," Ron said meaningfully. "But pretty bloody amazing."
"As long as you don't start preferring it to the real me!"
"Bollocks, no," Ron said with a laugh. "And I'm not snuggling with it in bed or anything pervy."
"Good thing, that." There was a ruckus behind Harry. He turned away for a few seconds, and then he was back, wearing an apologetic expression. "Hey, I've got to go deal with an incident. Love you. See you in four days and fire call anytime. Okay?"
"Yup. Love you too, Harry."
Ron sipped his whiskey, a mellow happiness settling in his chest. Except for the very rare occasions when they actually fought, Ron always felt better being around Harry. Ron was the luckiest damn bastard in the wizarding world. Unable to keep from grinning, he took his firewhiskey to the couch and relaxed with his magazine, sated, adored and content.
satindolls was pleading for someone to write smut for the "I Touch Myself" challenge at The Quidditch Pitch. Since I'm between stories and had two hours between church and the Mozart concert I sang in yesterday, I rose to said challenge! I suppose this is a belated entry. The story is set within my "Fling Wide the Whirlwind" universe about a year before that story starts. Nothing redeemable here, it's pure PWP. Title: With and Without You
Pairing: Ron/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Indian takeout in hand, Ron plunked down on the sofa. He realised he was missing something; two somethings, really, but one he could remedy.
"Accio ale," he said, pointing his wand at the refrigerator. A cold bottle flew to him which he opened and swigged with relish. He couldn't Accio Harry, however. He was off in Scandinavia for a fortnight, taking the Green Knights team to play in some international tournaments. Harry had been gone for ten days already. It wasn't that Ron was pining for him or anything, but he really did miss his company. Since defeating Voldemort and especially since their handfasting, Harry had become a truly cheerful person. His usually sunny disposition and enthusiasm evidently made a powerful impact on Ron, who had become a bit mopey with Harry's absence. He dug into his dinner and began skimming through Quagmire's Quidditch Quarterly. Assaulted both by his spicy food and cosmic irony, Ron noticed that Harry's much-awaited interview was on page thirty-six. He flipped to the page, his partner's face beaming from a quarter-page picture accompanying the article. It was well written; Harry would be pleased.
"Maybe I can fire call him at his hotel tonight," Ron said aloud. He waved his hand in front of his mouth. "This curry's really fucking hot!" he exclaimed, downing half his ale in one go. He finished his meal, unable to take his gaze away from Harry's smiling, optimistic expression. If Harry were here, he'd have taken him out for celebratory drinks and then given him a memorable, equally celebratory shag.
"Guess you'll have to wait," Ron said mournfully to his groin where his cock had decided to show a modicum of interest in the sadly nonexistent celebratory shagging. "No sex for you yet." As though to appease his neglected cock, Ron palmed the slight mound. "Four more days," he promised, "and you'll be back in action, rogering Harry until he's begging."
Spurred on by his erotic monologue, Ron's erection began hardening in earnest. Ron moaned in frustration. He just didn't wank very often anymore. Sometimes he and Harry would do it together before other things, and Ron did enjoy taking himself in hand when he went down on Harry. Which he really loved. He adored the tangy taste and how he always ended up with drool going down his chin as he licked and sucked Harry's hard flesh and… Merlin's balls! Why was he thinking about all of this stuff when Harry was gone?!
"Fine!" he said, surrendering to his impossible libido. He ran his thumb over the noticeable bulge straining against his flies. "Better than nothing, I suppose."
Ron finished his ale and headed back to their bedroom. As he stripped off his trousers and pants, a recent gift from Harry came to mind. It was kinky and had led to bruising sex when he got it. Harry had given it to him just for occasions like this, thoughtful bloke that he was. Ron glanced down at his jutting erection as he padded over to his chest of drawers.
"Shameless, you are."
He rummaged through his sock drawer until he found the unique toy. Reverently Ron held it in his palm, feeling an obligatory need to kiss it and run his tongue along the bulbous head.
"What'll you think of next, Harry?" he asked metaphorically, gazing at the golden replica of Harry's erect penis. Ron had never put anything in his bum besides a lubed finger or two until he and Harry had finally come clean about their true feelings for each other at age 17 and began exploring each other with insatiable energy. Even so, only in the past few years had they tried experimenting with things like butt plugs and dildos. Ron could definitely put this gift to use now, letting his imagination run rampant and his energy be stoked by arousal and how illicit it all seemed.
"Need lube," he muttered, tossing the dildo on the bed where it landed with a satisfying whump. Harry had spared no expense in getting it made; Ron hadn't asked where or how, but he knew it couldn't have come cheaply as the outside really felt like skin and the weight to it was exactly as though it were attached to the rest of Harry.
Ron was getting more turned on by the second. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair before dimming the lights in the room and sitting on the bed. A bedside table drawer held a couple of different kinds of lubricant; he chose the one with pine oil as he liked the smell. Anything woodsy, truthfully, was his favourite, especially since he and Harry had shagged outdoors in forests on multiple occasions. He poured a healthy dollop into his hand, making sure all of his fingers were coated before leaning back into the pile of pillows and at last stroking his rock hard cock.
He sighed with pleasure, eyes closed as he pulled up and down on the pliant skin, his slippery hand holding the perfect pressure around his erection. He paused to run his thumb over the head, smearing the milky fluid around the top. Ron lazily opened his eyes, regarding the familiar sight of his freckled fingers wrapped around the shiny skin of his shaft. He quite liked his cock — he'd seen his share of varieties of shapes and features during his Quidditch days at Hogwarts and felt he'd done pretty well in the overall attractiveness regard. When aroused, like now, his penis thrust upward nearly perfectly straight, not too long nor too wide as to look freakish but substantive enough to bring loads of pleasure to Harry. And himself.
He closed his eyes again, luxuriating in the feel of his fingers on his erection, the nerves all firing as he expertly pumped himself. Ron imagined Harry watching him as he slid his hand from the top to the bottom, holding the base for a moment and fondling his sacs with his other hand.
"So fucking sexy," Harry would say, his voice lower than usual. Ron could never get enough of that 'shag me now' quality Harry's voice took on when he was randy. Ron just couldn't get enough of Harry, period. They'd been together thirteen years and yet he still held his breath those first few seconds when he pushed into Harry's hot channel. Ron was always mesmerised, watching his aching cock as it slid in and out of Harry's body…
"Harry, fuck," he now groaned. He'd stimulated himself quickly and he still hadn't even touched the dildo. Panting, he slowed his motions on his cock, the sensitive, throbbing flesh demanding release, but he wanted to draw out the moment. He sat up and retrieved the golden phallus, liberally coating it with oil. He spread his legs, relaxing his arse as he circled his entrance with the gift, imagining Harry was there, murmuring all sorts of dirty, loving things about how hard he was going to fuck Ron.
"Oh yeah," Ron sighed, easing the dildo past the ring of muscle until it was fully inside him. His right hand wandered back to his erection, languidly fisting it as his body adjusted to the intrusion in his arse and the burning feeling subsided. Feeling brazen, as though wanking alone in his own bedroom was somehow daring and not perfectly normal, he pulled the dildo out partway and pushed it back in, moaning with pleasure as he angled it to hit the nerve center that sent sparks of heat pulsing straight to his cock.
"Harry," he growled, beginning to bugger himself in earnest, his erection temporarily forgotten. Ron adored it when Harry was slow and deep and thorough, ploughing into Ron's anus with a predatory gleam in his eye. Out and in, again and again Ron pulled the dildo nearly outside of himself and thrust it back, his muscles clenching around it.
"Fuck, gonna have to come," he gasped into the empty room. In his haste to pour more of the lubricant on his hand some of it spilled, creating a fragrant puddle. Ron's imagination was going full tilt now. He felt Harry deep inside of him, and lavished attention back on his cock, fisting it with fast, jerking motions. It was as though the rest of his body had vanished; all of Ron's senses were centred in his arse, cock and balls. His anus throbbed, squeezing around the lifelike cock; the slick smacking noises of his palm and fingers pistoning his shaft sounded deliciously of sex.
"I can tell you're about to come," he heard the Harry in his mind say. "Do it, Ron, love to see your face when you let go."
The tension was coiled in Ron's sacs, like a cat poised to spring at an unsuspecting bird. They were a dam of pressure; currents of ecstasy crisscrossed his cock as he felt his orgasm rush up his shaft, the release bursting out of him at last.
"Fuck, Harry, Merlin!" Ron yelled, the waves of pleasure ebbing out of him with slowing slides of his hand. The slightly acrid scent of his ejaculate wafted hazily up to his nose. Strings of white come were smeared all over his stomach and his hand was coated in the viscous fluid. Apparently the stuff built up if he didn't have sex on a regular basis. For long moments he rested, fingers circling the base of his spent erection as he caught his breath. Small aftershocks shuddered through him as his body fitfully settled back into its usual unaroused state.
Ron winced as he carefully pulled out the dido; he'd been a bit more vigourous than he'd realised while caught up in the moment. He cast a thorough Scourgify on himself and the bed. He wanted to take extra care with his sex toy, so he took it into the bathroom and washed it in the sink. He dried it gently with a towel, rolling his eyes when he noticed he was treating it as though it were real.
"Sure feels real. Felt real," he corrected himself. "I'll be glad when he one connected to Harry is back, though."
After splashing some water on his face and putting on his bedclothes, Ron went to their fireplace to fire call Harry. While the Norwegian concierge went away to find Harry, Ron poured himself a small tumbler of firewhiskey and went back to wait on the hearth. Moments later Harry's face appeared.
"Hey Ron! How're things?"
"All right. Your article in Triple Q came out. It's really good." Ron held up the magazine so Harry could see the pages.
"Excellent! I'll pick up a copy in Oslo. D'you miss me?"
Ron could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was giving him a hard time. A shifting of his arse on the floor gave him a pleasant reminder of his earlier activities, though, so he played along.
"Yeah, but I found a way to entertain myself."
"Did you now?" Harry's expression was both curious and lascivious.
"Yup. Used that toy you gave me." Ron waggled his eyebrows.
"Oh." Harry definitely looked interested in that bit of news. "How was it?"
"Not as good as the real thing of course," Ron said meaningfully. "But pretty bloody amazing."
"As long as you don't start preferring it to the real me!"
"Bollocks, no," Ron said with a laugh. "And I'm not snuggling with it in bed or anything pervy."
"Good thing, that." There was a ruckus behind Harry. He turned away for a few seconds, and then he was back, wearing an apologetic expression. "Hey, I've got to go deal with an incident. Love you. See you in four days and fire call anytime. Okay?"
"Yup. Love you too, Harry."
Ron sipped his whiskey, a mellow happiness settling in his chest. Except for the very rare occasions when they actually fought, Ron always felt better being around Harry. Ron was the luckiest damn bastard in the wizarding world. Unable to keep from grinning, he took his firewhiskey to the couch and relaxed with his magazine, sated, adored and content.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-07 03:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-08 03:19 pm (UTC)See you… tomorrow!!! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-08 07:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-09 10:57 am (UTC)