(no subject)
Title: Just a Bit of a Problem
Pairing/Character: Although it’s during Ron/Hermione, it’s not Hermione - Eeeeek!
Rating: NC-17 (Can you believe I’ve moved past G?)
Summary: Not quite the worldy wise wizard he’d like to be, Ron turns to a supplement in Wicked Witch magazine clearly intended to be used by the older (and less hormonally driven) wizard
Wordcount: 3,466
Author’s Notes: An unwritten prompt from a long ago challenge (I wrote mine) was Ron’s first experience with a girl after lots of previously solitary wanking. I think I contained that within here!
I should say this is for jeminigrl87 as I let her down badly during July, in the middle of a month long writing experiment we undertook together. Sorry Erica, the apology has been a long time coming.
Thanks to manynames for the speedy and efficient read through, and for finding all my niggly little errors.
Just a Bit of a Problem
He had a problem. There was no doubt about that. It was a problem that he could well have done without, could well do without. But just what was he to do about it?
Ron sighed. How could he have been so stupid? Every time he caught Hermione’s eye she looked him up and down, silently but quite obviously to him tutted, and then walked past, her head almost snapping to the other side. He was sure he’d heard her chunter the words stupid boy several times on several such occasions for the last few days.
He’d only done it for her. Though he wasn’t sure how he was going to make that point and make it sound like it was meant. How could he convince her that it really had been for her?
“Won Won!”
Ron turned around ready to smile one of his placating smiles towards Lavender Brown, he’d got used to doing that over time. Except this time instead of her eyes, his eyes met the top of her head, where her eyes were staring he just knew.
“Lavender.” Her name muttered tonelessly as he walked on.
“I wondered if there was something I could help with,” she offered. The less than confident might consider Lavender’s voice contained more than a tinge of amusement within it and one thing Ron would not call himself was confident.
“S’alright thanks,” he replied slightly indignantly and strode on, on his way to wherever he was going and if he was honest he wasn’t actually sure where now.
Bedtime arrived slowly and while he waited Ron was reminded of Christmas eve as a child where the clock’s tick slowed to at least half speed, time apparently almost standing still. Finally he watched as the last of his room-mates made their way up the spiral staircase and he followed, with only one thing on his mind. The moment Neville, Seamus, Dean and Harry appeared to have settled down, their breathing slow and even Ron delved into his bedside cabinet and brought out the supplement from last month’s Wicked Witch magazine entitled Advice for mature wizards: Super spells to bring that certain smile back to that certain someone’s face!.
For what must have been at least the twentieth time today, and every day lately, Ron cursed that he’d not made a visit into Hogsmeade’s branch of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and picked up a product from the shelf and taken it back for those certain moments, times when he knew he was lacking. He knew why of course, admitting he needed such a product to Fred, George or both of them, was beyond embarrassing. As if this wasn’t.
For what must also have been for at least the twentieth time today, Ron let out a deep sigh, before he muttered Lumos and pointed his wand tip at the page where the spell was contained. He’d not done anything wrong. Everytime he checked, the spell was the same as it had been the time before, the same as it had been the afternoon he’d cast it, the afternoon before the evening of his last intended date with Hermione. He’d had to cancel that, of course. How could he have gone out with her like this? Hermione was hardly going to …
Why did he think she’d not understand? Something similar had happened to her all the way back in second year. Well, not exactly similar. He’d even have to give in and argue with himself on that one. But she’d made an error in a spell, or more accurately a potion, and had to live with the consequences for some months. She wasn’t going to understand though, was she?
Serpents’ teeth, he hoped he wasn’t going to have to live with the consequences of this spell for some months. A week had been bad enough, and still there was no sign of improvement. In fact daily the whole problem was getting worse. He was starting to ache all over. Every muscle was affected, and why? Why? The what must have been twenty first time of sighing didn’t answer that, didn’t even go anywhere near to relieving his anguish, but he was going to have to relieve something soon if there was any chance of getting to sleep. And, looking on the bright side. You know the one? The side of your glass where the pumpkin juice is always half full and never half empty, tonight might be the night. If it wasn’t then there was a good chance that tomorrow morning would be the morning, and if not. Well, Ron told himself with what must have been the twenty second sigh, then he would have to think again tomorrow. He had a free lesson just before lunch, if there was no-one around then maybe he could try again, at least once. For what must have been the twenty third time of sighing Ron’s spirits sunk at the thought of spending his free lesson involved in doing that.
As it happened tomorrow brought a fresh episode of tutting, expedient looks in the opposite direction, and another stupid boy shortly after breakfast, and then again just before lunch from Hermione. After lunch, Ron thought he’d heard something muttered about him forgetting it if he was going to go around like that all the time and he knew that any thoughts of finally having a relationship with Hermione had flown out of the window along with his common sense.
“Won Won.”
“Lavender.” Oh no, here it went again. Dinner was over, bedtime was drawing near. There was nowhere to escape to this time. He was going to be soon on his way to Gryffindor Tower, she was going to soon be on her way to Gryffindor Tower and they both knew it. He tried to muster the placating smile, but failed miserably.
“Can I help with something?”
“I don’t think so, Lavender. But thanks for the offer.” Ron winced as he stood from his seat in the library. There were some bits of him that were actually really hurting now, bits that shouldn’t be hurting and it was getting worrying.
“I was good at it if you remember, before. Last year.”
Ron blushed, stumbled as he turned towards the door and looked back over his shoulder. She was following him.
“I could try again if you wanted. No-one would have to know. Just between you and me. As a friend to a friend. For old times' sake.”
Ron continued to walk back towards Gryffindor Tower where he gave the password, Giant Globes, to the Fat Lady, who made a comment about having seen something like that once before. He almost fell through the now opened portrait hole when the Fat Lady sniggered to Lavender and he heard the words big, ugly and the Bloody Baron’s downfall, and then made his way hastily past where Hermione was checking through an essay, up the stairs and into the thankfully empty room he shared with his fellow seventh year students, falling onto his bed and pulling the curtains tight around it before sighing back onto his pillow and closing his eyes.
Perhaps he should have said yes to Lavender, but how could he? Would he even have said yes to Hermione had she offered? He guessed not. Though it was all for Hermione he reminded himself yet again that he’d done it. After last year’s encounters with Lavender, Ron had lived in dread of the same thing happening again. Eyes shut he could still, all this time later, feel Lavender’s hand as she slipped down the zip of his trousers during an amazingly heated snogging session, her hand slipping inside and finding the opening of his boxers and then swiftly being removed as they both pretended he’d not come on the first touch of her soft skin against his awfully overeager cock. He had to give it to her, she’d not been put off the first time, she’d tried again. The second time she’d stroked his whole length, with difficulty as she was sitting in his lap at the time, her tongue firmly tangled with his, before he’d made a quite noisy and dramatic release. The third time was a little better, he could still feel her fingers wrapped tightly around him and the one and only movement she made before she’d asked if he had a tissue, adding to ease his awkwardness that her nose seemed to be running with a bit of an allergy or something and perhaps she ought to be going anyway as she was sure there was homework to be done.
Then after they’d all gone off to Godric’s Hollow during August, and Harry had wanted to be alone in the graveyard with his parents' graves, he and Hermione had gone for a walk and found themselves snogging in an orchard. The warm smell of the meadow around them, the leafy canopy of leaves and newly ripening apples, and Hermione’s body pressing against his had been all it took for his problem to repeat itself. Hermione hadn’t even got her hand towards his zip - not that he’d have expected her to. But if she’d have tried he’d have had to brush it away without explanation beyond a few stuttered words and the meaning his bright red ears would have passed on.
Setting out a few days later to search out Mundungus Fletcher had put the problem out of his mind; it had put the thoughts of more interaction between the two of them right from both of their minds. They needed to find Mundungus and see if he had, or had previously had, the locket from Grimmauld Place. There wasn’t time for encounters of a romantic nature. Hermione had said before they’d set off, and he’d agreed, that if Harry and Ginny could wait then so could they.
They’d not intended to come back to Hogwarts at all this year. It was the look of Molly, and the one and only note Harry ever received from his Aunt that had done it. Hermione said she’d find a way they could continue their studies, that that dreadful woman was not going to have any excuse whatsoever to call Harry a failure. They could do both. They could trail the Horcruxes, gain their education, and whenever the time came then they’d be there for Harry at his last meeting with Voldemort. They’d all taken to using his full name this year. What was the point of the three of them going after him with the intention of finishing the monster off if they were too scared to even say it after all?
Lazily, and somewhat reluctantly Ron unzipped his trousers and lifted his hips to wriggle out of them and kick them off. He supposed he’d best get this over and done with now, while the others were out. Late nights and early mornings were doing him in, and if he was honest, the whole problem was getting worse not just by the day but by the hour. Turning over to reach for the supplement one last time, just in case he’d missed something vital that would deal with his problem, Ron noticed a piece of parchment sticking out from the cover.
Ronald Weasley, how could you be so stupid? You left your essay in the Common Room so I brought it up here to be safe for you and found this open at this page. This supplement is for older wizards and I don’t believe you’re putting yourself and me through the embarrassment, not to mention danger to you, of dealing with it. I don’t care how you do it, but get your problem sorted. I am sure that Madam Pomfrey has something to take care of it, if doing it yourself hasn’t shown any impact, which I guess it hasn’t. As if you think I … oh Ron. Just sort it out, and then we can start again. Hermione
“Won Won.”
“Lavender?” Ron opened a gap in the curtains and looked around. He’d imagined her voice. This damned problem was playing tricks on his mind now. I don’t care how you do it … Perhaps if he closed his eyes he could imagine that it was Lavender’s hand from last year, curling around him.
“I always thought you were quite special down there. Nice and big. Huge in fact.”
Ron smiled, lay back on the pillows and once again lifted his hips, riding his boxers down over his thighs. A small sigh of pleasure left him as the slightest breeze glanced over his heated and swollen balls. He could almost feel his hand slipping down to take hold of them before he even thought about doing so. His poor tight, swollen balls. Every day they’d got more uncomfortable. The more relief he’d given them, the more swollen they’d become.
“It’s nice to see you as well as feel you Won. You can touch my boobs if you like.”
“S’alright,” Ron said to the voice in his head, “I don’t think I’ll have enough hands for that. But thanks for the offer.” Opening his eyes, Ron gasped as he realised he wasn’t alone, hadn’t imagined a thing. Kneeling on his bed, her top open and her skirt riding up on her thighs as she straddled his legs was Lavender Brown and right now she was taking his hand and pressing it towards her chest.
“Relax,” Lavender instructed him, squeezing his hand lightly against the lace of her bra. “I’m not going to tell anyone if you’re not.” As she spoke she let go of his hand, hers hovering over the top of his for a moment or two longer, ready to replace it if he moved away.
He was tempted to, of course. He wanted to even. He didn’t want to be here on his bed in this state, fondling the chest of last year’s girlfriend. Even less than that he wanted to be walking around the school like the Fat Lady had suggested, hung like a prize stud Thestral. Walking was perhaps a bit of a grand term for it, hobbling was probably closer the last hour or two.
“Err, I’m not telling anyone,” Ron heard his voice say, his hand still hovering lightly over the white lace fabric, though his eyes were fixed more on her skin than his own. Lavender had started to work on him now, her grip different to his, her movements different too. No-one had ever done this to him before, well not for more than a quick touch anyway, and it was more than necessary right now. He should have been feeling guilty, of course, and undoubtedly he would later, but he’d deal with that later. “Err, thanks Lavender.”
Lavender smiled towards Ron, moving one of her hands back to his hovering lightly on her boob and flicking the lace back out of his way. “That’s better Won Won, I’m sure.”
Galloping Godric, what did he do now? A look of terror must have crossed Ron’s face as Lavender chuckled and moved to his side before returning to his hard and throbbing cock. “A handful of that will help me deal with this,” she said huskily, and rubbed her thumb over the end, now not just leaking but actually it seemed to him to be hissing and spitting. In a moment of lucidity Ron realised it hadn’t reacted like that to his movements. He’d just done what he always did, though it took a fair bit longer than usual, and then after a short rest it had been there again ready for another go. If he’d wanked very enthusiastically, and had been tired enough, then the rest time had been enough for him to drift into a sort of sleep. Next morning he’d had to take care of it again in order to get to the bathroom, and then the cycle had started all over again, and again, and again.
“S’good Lavender,” Ron muttered, his hands moving more experimentally over the skin presented to him, his eyes wide as she’d gasped when he’d brushed accidentally, of course, against her nipple.
He wasn’t sure just how long Lavender had continued her work, or how long he’d continued to rub her nipple. He still wasn’t sure that the hissing and spitting was actually happening, or even if this whole situation was actually happening, was a dream or in his imagination. He wasn’t sure about anything any more. He just knew that he had to have more than a few minutes relief from this constant hard on and if it took a good imagination mixed with a memory or two then Hermione had said for him to do whatever it took and that’s what he was doing.
“Do the other one Won Won,” Lavender instructed, moving her second boob from its lace confines for him. “Do it the same. No, at the same time. Make me feel good too.”
Ron nodded in his characteristically earnest way and moved his second hand to mirror its twin in movement, his hips thrusting as hard as they could into Lavender’s hand. He could feel the familiar build up starting now, deep in the pit of his stomach. A small grunt filled the enclosed space on Ron’s bed as his thumbs continued to work hard on Lavender’s nipples and her hand continued to work hard on his cock while she pummelled gently at his tender balls. He’d never felt that feeling in this stomach with someone else doing it before, there’d not been time. Should he tell her he was getting close? He knew when he was feeling like this that he should just grip a bit tighter, and move a bit faster, and that he usually bit his lip to stop himself from making a noise, as he didn’t want the others to know what he was doing, even though half the time at least one of them was doing it and thinking the same.
“Won Won I need to … as well …” Lavender was moving again, her skirt was up now over her hips and she was sinking down onto him. Ron realised he wasn’t in her, but she was pressing his cock between her and his stomach and the spitting and hissing was building up. Lavender’s head was thrown back now and she was rubbing herself hard up and down him and he could feel her hot and wet and pulsating and … and with a final rub of her nipples they were both coming, he was coming like he’d never come before. His hips were thrusting hard, the breath held in his lungs was going to explode them if he didn’t let it out soon, his eyes felt like the were going to bulge form his head, and above him was Lavender Brown who had professed herself to be very good at it.
Ron opened his eyes, rubbed them, and blinked.
“That was some dream mate.” Harry was grinning between the drapes on Ron’s bed.
“Dream, oh yeah. Yeah, it was. More like a nightmare,” Ron grinned, sitting up a bit in his bed.
“It’s Saturday, Hermione’s waiting in the Common Room. Thought we could all go down to breakfast together. What do you say?”
Ron blinked, looked around him, his hand sinking under the covers to confirm what he thought and then hastily back to pull the covers back.
“Ron?”
“What?” Ron asked, standing beside the bed and reaching for his washing stuff. “I thought I’d have a quick shower first.”
“Yours are they?” Harry grinned, taking a pair of lacy and decidedly female panties from the side of the bed. “I knew you’d been a bit strange this week, but wearing girl’s knickers?”
“You’d better believe it,” Ron laughed, making his way towards the bathroom, suddenly feeling carefree and that life was good. He’d get them back to Lavender later; she probably deserved some sort of thank you too. He watched as Harry shrugged and dropped them back onto Ron’s bed. What did you give a girl who’d just saved you from a fate surely worse than death? If he’d been at breakfast Ron wouldn’t have had to ask that. Lavender Brown, true to her promise wasn’t saying a word, but her own satisfied expression hinted of erotic secrets that clearly intrigued her own little gang of friends.
“All’s well that ends well then,” Ron muttered as he pressed Hermione against the old oak in the grounds while Harry was having a quick word with his sister, glad that he couldn’t even feel the slightest rising.
“Indeed,” replied Hermione as she moved her lips back to his. She’d really have to cancel Ron’s subscription to Wicked Witch magazine before her stupid boyfriend did any permanent harm to himself.
Pairing/Character: Although it’s during Ron/Hermione, it’s not Hermione - Eeeeek!
Rating: NC-17 (Can you believe I’ve moved past G?)
Summary: Not quite the worldy wise wizard he’d like to be, Ron turns to a supplement in Wicked Witch magazine clearly intended to be used by the older (and less hormonally driven) wizard
Wordcount: 3,466
Author’s Notes: An unwritten prompt from a long ago challenge (I wrote mine) was Ron’s first experience with a girl after lots of previously solitary wanking. I think I contained that within here!
I should say this is for jeminigrl87 as I let her down badly during July, in the middle of a month long writing experiment we undertook together. Sorry Erica, the apology has been a long time coming.
Thanks to manynames for the speedy and efficient read through, and for finding all my niggly little errors.
Just a Bit of a Problem
He had a problem. There was no doubt about that. It was a problem that he could well have done without, could well do without. But just what was he to do about it?
Ron sighed. How could he have been so stupid? Every time he caught Hermione’s eye she looked him up and down, silently but quite obviously to him tutted, and then walked past, her head almost snapping to the other side. He was sure he’d heard her chunter the words stupid boy several times on several such occasions for the last few days.
He’d only done it for her. Though he wasn’t sure how he was going to make that point and make it sound like it was meant. How could he convince her that it really had been for her?
“Won Won!”
Ron turned around ready to smile one of his placating smiles towards Lavender Brown, he’d got used to doing that over time. Except this time instead of her eyes, his eyes met the top of her head, where her eyes were staring he just knew.
“Lavender.” Her name muttered tonelessly as he walked on.
“I wondered if there was something I could help with,” she offered. The less than confident might consider Lavender’s voice contained more than a tinge of amusement within it and one thing Ron would not call himself was confident.
“S’alright thanks,” he replied slightly indignantly and strode on, on his way to wherever he was going and if he was honest he wasn’t actually sure where now.
Bedtime arrived slowly and while he waited Ron was reminded of Christmas eve as a child where the clock’s tick slowed to at least half speed, time apparently almost standing still. Finally he watched as the last of his room-mates made their way up the spiral staircase and he followed, with only one thing on his mind. The moment Neville, Seamus, Dean and Harry appeared to have settled down, their breathing slow and even Ron delved into his bedside cabinet and brought out the supplement from last month’s Wicked Witch magazine entitled Advice for mature wizards: Super spells to bring that certain smile back to that certain someone’s face!.
For what must have been at least the twentieth time today, and every day lately, Ron cursed that he’d not made a visit into Hogsmeade’s branch of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and picked up a product from the shelf and taken it back for those certain moments, times when he knew he was lacking. He knew why of course, admitting he needed such a product to Fred, George or both of them, was beyond embarrassing. As if this wasn’t.
For what must also have been for at least the twentieth time today, Ron let out a deep sigh, before he muttered Lumos and pointed his wand tip at the page where the spell was contained. He’d not done anything wrong. Everytime he checked, the spell was the same as it had been the time before, the same as it had been the afternoon he’d cast it, the afternoon before the evening of his last intended date with Hermione. He’d had to cancel that, of course. How could he have gone out with her like this? Hermione was hardly going to …
Why did he think she’d not understand? Something similar had happened to her all the way back in second year. Well, not exactly similar. He’d even have to give in and argue with himself on that one. But she’d made an error in a spell, or more accurately a potion, and had to live with the consequences for some months. She wasn’t going to understand though, was she?
Serpents’ teeth, he hoped he wasn’t going to have to live with the consequences of this spell for some months. A week had been bad enough, and still there was no sign of improvement. In fact daily the whole problem was getting worse. He was starting to ache all over. Every muscle was affected, and why? Why? The what must have been twenty first time of sighing didn’t answer that, didn’t even go anywhere near to relieving his anguish, but he was going to have to relieve something soon if there was any chance of getting to sleep. And, looking on the bright side. You know the one? The side of your glass where the pumpkin juice is always half full and never half empty, tonight might be the night. If it wasn’t then there was a good chance that tomorrow morning would be the morning, and if not. Well, Ron told himself with what must have been the twenty second sigh, then he would have to think again tomorrow. He had a free lesson just before lunch, if there was no-one around then maybe he could try again, at least once. For what must have been the twenty third time of sighing Ron’s spirits sunk at the thought of spending his free lesson involved in doing that.
As it happened tomorrow brought a fresh episode of tutting, expedient looks in the opposite direction, and another stupid boy shortly after breakfast, and then again just before lunch from Hermione. After lunch, Ron thought he’d heard something muttered about him forgetting it if he was going to go around like that all the time and he knew that any thoughts of finally having a relationship with Hermione had flown out of the window along with his common sense.
“Won Won.”
“Lavender.” Oh no, here it went again. Dinner was over, bedtime was drawing near. There was nowhere to escape to this time. He was going to be soon on his way to Gryffindor Tower, she was going to soon be on her way to Gryffindor Tower and they both knew it. He tried to muster the placating smile, but failed miserably.
“Can I help with something?”
“I don’t think so, Lavender. But thanks for the offer.” Ron winced as he stood from his seat in the library. There were some bits of him that were actually really hurting now, bits that shouldn’t be hurting and it was getting worrying.
“I was good at it if you remember, before. Last year.”
Ron blushed, stumbled as he turned towards the door and looked back over his shoulder. She was following him.
“I could try again if you wanted. No-one would have to know. Just between you and me. As a friend to a friend. For old times' sake.”
Ron continued to walk back towards Gryffindor Tower where he gave the password, Giant Globes, to the Fat Lady, who made a comment about having seen something like that once before. He almost fell through the now opened portrait hole when the Fat Lady sniggered to Lavender and he heard the words big, ugly and the Bloody Baron’s downfall, and then made his way hastily past where Hermione was checking through an essay, up the stairs and into the thankfully empty room he shared with his fellow seventh year students, falling onto his bed and pulling the curtains tight around it before sighing back onto his pillow and closing his eyes.
Perhaps he should have said yes to Lavender, but how could he? Would he even have said yes to Hermione had she offered? He guessed not. Though it was all for Hermione he reminded himself yet again that he’d done it. After last year’s encounters with Lavender, Ron had lived in dread of the same thing happening again. Eyes shut he could still, all this time later, feel Lavender’s hand as she slipped down the zip of his trousers during an amazingly heated snogging session, her hand slipping inside and finding the opening of his boxers and then swiftly being removed as they both pretended he’d not come on the first touch of her soft skin against his awfully overeager cock. He had to give it to her, she’d not been put off the first time, she’d tried again. The second time she’d stroked his whole length, with difficulty as she was sitting in his lap at the time, her tongue firmly tangled with his, before he’d made a quite noisy and dramatic release. The third time was a little better, he could still feel her fingers wrapped tightly around him and the one and only movement she made before she’d asked if he had a tissue, adding to ease his awkwardness that her nose seemed to be running with a bit of an allergy or something and perhaps she ought to be going anyway as she was sure there was homework to be done.
Then after they’d all gone off to Godric’s Hollow during August, and Harry had wanted to be alone in the graveyard with his parents' graves, he and Hermione had gone for a walk and found themselves snogging in an orchard. The warm smell of the meadow around them, the leafy canopy of leaves and newly ripening apples, and Hermione’s body pressing against his had been all it took for his problem to repeat itself. Hermione hadn’t even got her hand towards his zip - not that he’d have expected her to. But if she’d have tried he’d have had to brush it away without explanation beyond a few stuttered words and the meaning his bright red ears would have passed on.
Setting out a few days later to search out Mundungus Fletcher had put the problem out of his mind; it had put the thoughts of more interaction between the two of them right from both of their minds. They needed to find Mundungus and see if he had, or had previously had, the locket from Grimmauld Place. There wasn’t time for encounters of a romantic nature. Hermione had said before they’d set off, and he’d agreed, that if Harry and Ginny could wait then so could they.
They’d not intended to come back to Hogwarts at all this year. It was the look of Molly, and the one and only note Harry ever received from his Aunt that had done it. Hermione said she’d find a way they could continue their studies, that that dreadful woman was not going to have any excuse whatsoever to call Harry a failure. They could do both. They could trail the Horcruxes, gain their education, and whenever the time came then they’d be there for Harry at his last meeting with Voldemort. They’d all taken to using his full name this year. What was the point of the three of them going after him with the intention of finishing the monster off if they were too scared to even say it after all?
Lazily, and somewhat reluctantly Ron unzipped his trousers and lifted his hips to wriggle out of them and kick them off. He supposed he’d best get this over and done with now, while the others were out. Late nights and early mornings were doing him in, and if he was honest, the whole problem was getting worse not just by the day but by the hour. Turning over to reach for the supplement one last time, just in case he’d missed something vital that would deal with his problem, Ron noticed a piece of parchment sticking out from the cover.
Ronald Weasley, how could you be so stupid? You left your essay in the Common Room so I brought it up here to be safe for you and found this open at this page. This supplement is for older wizards and I don’t believe you’re putting yourself and me through the embarrassment, not to mention danger to you, of dealing with it. I don’t care how you do it, but get your problem sorted. I am sure that Madam Pomfrey has something to take care of it, if doing it yourself hasn’t shown any impact, which I guess it hasn’t. As if you think I … oh Ron. Just sort it out, and then we can start again. Hermione
“Won Won.”
“Lavender?” Ron opened a gap in the curtains and looked around. He’d imagined her voice. This damned problem was playing tricks on his mind now. I don’t care how you do it … Perhaps if he closed his eyes he could imagine that it was Lavender’s hand from last year, curling around him.
“I always thought you were quite special down there. Nice and big. Huge in fact.”
Ron smiled, lay back on the pillows and once again lifted his hips, riding his boxers down over his thighs. A small sigh of pleasure left him as the slightest breeze glanced over his heated and swollen balls. He could almost feel his hand slipping down to take hold of them before he even thought about doing so. His poor tight, swollen balls. Every day they’d got more uncomfortable. The more relief he’d given them, the more swollen they’d become.
“It’s nice to see you as well as feel you Won. You can touch my boobs if you like.”
“S’alright,” Ron said to the voice in his head, “I don’t think I’ll have enough hands for that. But thanks for the offer.” Opening his eyes, Ron gasped as he realised he wasn’t alone, hadn’t imagined a thing. Kneeling on his bed, her top open and her skirt riding up on her thighs as she straddled his legs was Lavender Brown and right now she was taking his hand and pressing it towards her chest.
“Relax,” Lavender instructed him, squeezing his hand lightly against the lace of her bra. “I’m not going to tell anyone if you’re not.” As she spoke she let go of his hand, hers hovering over the top of his for a moment or two longer, ready to replace it if he moved away.
He was tempted to, of course. He wanted to even. He didn’t want to be here on his bed in this state, fondling the chest of last year’s girlfriend. Even less than that he wanted to be walking around the school like the Fat Lady had suggested, hung like a prize stud Thestral. Walking was perhaps a bit of a grand term for it, hobbling was probably closer the last hour or two.
“Err, I’m not telling anyone,” Ron heard his voice say, his hand still hovering lightly over the white lace fabric, though his eyes were fixed more on her skin than his own. Lavender had started to work on him now, her grip different to his, her movements different too. No-one had ever done this to him before, well not for more than a quick touch anyway, and it was more than necessary right now. He should have been feeling guilty, of course, and undoubtedly he would later, but he’d deal with that later. “Err, thanks Lavender.”
Lavender smiled towards Ron, moving one of her hands back to his hovering lightly on her boob and flicking the lace back out of his way. “That’s better Won Won, I’m sure.”
Galloping Godric, what did he do now? A look of terror must have crossed Ron’s face as Lavender chuckled and moved to his side before returning to his hard and throbbing cock. “A handful of that will help me deal with this,” she said huskily, and rubbed her thumb over the end, now not just leaking but actually it seemed to him to be hissing and spitting. In a moment of lucidity Ron realised it hadn’t reacted like that to his movements. He’d just done what he always did, though it took a fair bit longer than usual, and then after a short rest it had been there again ready for another go. If he’d wanked very enthusiastically, and had been tired enough, then the rest time had been enough for him to drift into a sort of sleep. Next morning he’d had to take care of it again in order to get to the bathroom, and then the cycle had started all over again, and again, and again.
“S’good Lavender,” Ron muttered, his hands moving more experimentally over the skin presented to him, his eyes wide as she’d gasped when he’d brushed accidentally, of course, against her nipple.
He wasn’t sure just how long Lavender had continued her work, or how long he’d continued to rub her nipple. He still wasn’t sure that the hissing and spitting was actually happening, or even if this whole situation was actually happening, was a dream or in his imagination. He wasn’t sure about anything any more. He just knew that he had to have more than a few minutes relief from this constant hard on and if it took a good imagination mixed with a memory or two then Hermione had said for him to do whatever it took and that’s what he was doing.
“Do the other one Won Won,” Lavender instructed, moving her second boob from its lace confines for him. “Do it the same. No, at the same time. Make me feel good too.”
Ron nodded in his characteristically earnest way and moved his second hand to mirror its twin in movement, his hips thrusting as hard as they could into Lavender’s hand. He could feel the familiar build up starting now, deep in the pit of his stomach. A small grunt filled the enclosed space on Ron’s bed as his thumbs continued to work hard on Lavender’s nipples and her hand continued to work hard on his cock while she pummelled gently at his tender balls. He’d never felt that feeling in this stomach with someone else doing it before, there’d not been time. Should he tell her he was getting close? He knew when he was feeling like this that he should just grip a bit tighter, and move a bit faster, and that he usually bit his lip to stop himself from making a noise, as he didn’t want the others to know what he was doing, even though half the time at least one of them was doing it and thinking the same.
“Won Won I need to … as well …” Lavender was moving again, her skirt was up now over her hips and she was sinking down onto him. Ron realised he wasn’t in her, but she was pressing his cock between her and his stomach and the spitting and hissing was building up. Lavender’s head was thrown back now and she was rubbing herself hard up and down him and he could feel her hot and wet and pulsating and … and with a final rub of her nipples they were both coming, he was coming like he’d never come before. His hips were thrusting hard, the breath held in his lungs was going to explode them if he didn’t let it out soon, his eyes felt like the were going to bulge form his head, and above him was Lavender Brown who had professed herself to be very good at it.
Ron opened his eyes, rubbed them, and blinked.
“That was some dream mate.” Harry was grinning between the drapes on Ron’s bed.
“Dream, oh yeah. Yeah, it was. More like a nightmare,” Ron grinned, sitting up a bit in his bed.
“It’s Saturday, Hermione’s waiting in the Common Room. Thought we could all go down to breakfast together. What do you say?”
Ron blinked, looked around him, his hand sinking under the covers to confirm what he thought and then hastily back to pull the covers back.
“Ron?”
“What?” Ron asked, standing beside the bed and reaching for his washing stuff. “I thought I’d have a quick shower first.”
“Yours are they?” Harry grinned, taking a pair of lacy and decidedly female panties from the side of the bed. “I knew you’d been a bit strange this week, but wearing girl’s knickers?”
“You’d better believe it,” Ron laughed, making his way towards the bathroom, suddenly feeling carefree and that life was good. He’d get them back to Lavender later; she probably deserved some sort of thank you too. He watched as Harry shrugged and dropped them back onto Ron’s bed. What did you give a girl who’d just saved you from a fate surely worse than death? If he’d been at breakfast Ron wouldn’t have had to ask that. Lavender Brown, true to her promise wasn’t saying a word, but her own satisfied expression hinted of erotic secrets that clearly intrigued her own little gang of friends.
“All’s well that ends well then,” Ron muttered as he pressed Hermione against the old oak in the grounds while Harry was having a quick word with his sister, glad that he couldn’t even feel the slightest rising.
“Indeed,” replied Hermione as she moved her lips back to his. She’d really have to cancel Ron’s subscription to Wicked Witch magazine before her stupid boyfriend did any permanent harm to himself.