FIC for triomakesmehot
For: triomakesmehot
From: certifieddork
Title: Last Weekend
Rating: R
Words: 1000 on the nose (see below)
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing that you would recognise, this is all just in fun.
Author's Note: It's a drabble series! I love drabbles. I love the intensity, and trying to tell a whole lot in just a little bit. So I took the prompt Harry & Ron coming to terms with their attraction to each other and kind of ran with it over 1000 words, 100 at a time. As the title implies, I see this happening over two or three days - my boys are impatient! I hope it's to your liking. End of ramble.
Thanks to the lovely mods for not smacking me (when they had reason to!), betas who got frustrated at the 100-words-only concept and anyone else who encouraged and supported me.
•
Ron was trying to ignore Harry. He was failing, miserably. It was hard; his eyes kept glancing to the right, seemingly of their own accord, taking in every square inch of the bare skin that was exposed to him mere feet away.
It was hard - no pun intended, either, though it was hard and he was hard and it was all he could do to keep his back to Harry only slightly. He didn't want to arouse - no fucking pun fucking intended - !
For Merlin's sake, it wasn't enough showering with Harry, even his own inner monologue was against him!
•
He'd seen naked girls before.
Ok, maybe not many, and almost none outside of a magazine. But still. A naked girl. He had an idea.
But in that crucial moment, when Ron should have maybe been thinking about one of those magazine girls or Hermione, or maybe anything with tits, he was thinking only of Harry.
Under the shower, almost glistening as he stepped out of it, his legs and arse as he walked away, the way he cocked his head and looked at Ron.
As if Harry knew what Ron was thinking.
And Ron could only think of Harry.
•
The first time Ron kissed him, Harry tasted like Firewhiskey. They were only mildly drunk, really, but they'd had a couple. The pub was hazy with cigarette smoke and who-knows-what-else smoke. It was getting late.
Harry was laughing at something that had happened behind Ron, but Ron couldn't be bothered to turn and find out what. He couldn't be bothered to turn his eyes from Harry.
Noticing, Harry leaned across the oak table. 'You're staring at me,' he murmured.
'I know,' Ron said, leaning closer.
Harry just stared at him, not moving and Ron kept leaning until their lips touched.
•
'I never thought - '
'Yeah, well, neither did I.'
'But - for how long, exactly?'
Ron hesitated. How long, exactly? Difficult to tell. Maybe always …
No, not always, that was just ridiculous. But if wasn't always, then it was some fixed time, a fixed moment But how long, exactly? What an impossible question.
'No idea,' Ron said finally. Best to be honest here, right? He'd come this far, after all.
Harry stared down into his pint. 'Not even an estimate?'
Ron shrugged.
'Because - ' Harry took a long draught. I still - I remember. First time I knew.'
Ron's eyes widened.
•
'Not that I'm - '
'No!' Ron agreed quickly. 'Nor am I. … I don’t think.'
Harry smirked. 'You don't think?'
Ron glared at him. 'I just mean - I've never - aah - you're the, um, first. But technically - you're a bloke. I'm a bloke. But, in general - '
'So I'm special, yeah?' Harry asked, laughing.
'I guess you are,' Ron replied, unable to sound anything but completely serious.
As much as he wanted to laugh it off, as much as he wanted to play this light - nothing had ever been more special to him than Harry.
It wasn't funny - just true.
•
Next time, Harry kissed him. Quite emphatically. Grabbed his hair, pulled him close. No hesitation - the way Harry did things he'd set his mind to.
Ron's eyes closed, instinctively. Harry's mouth moved quickly, insistently, and in that moment, there wasn't anything Ron would deny Harry.
Fumbling at Harry's robes, Ron brought him closer, ground against him, fell back into the flat's wall, let Harry pin him there.
As Harry's tongue slid against his, Ron felt his hand on his bare back, under his shirt, at the waist of his jeans and shivers ran down his spine.
This would be good.
•
Ron didn't want to offend Hermione. He didn't want to offend anybody who had done this to him before.
But bloody hell, nobody could do this the same way that somebody who had had it done to them could do it.
One minute, Harry's hand had been on his cock through his jeans, the next they were on. his. cock. Full stop. Harry's warm palm on his warm -
And before he could finish that thought - who could bloody think at a time like this? - he was in Harry's mouth.
Ron groaned, and Harry hummed, and Ron came, and Harry smiled.
•
Sex, in general, was fantastic, Ron thought. With himself first thing in the morning, the couple of times he'd done it with Hermione - Merlin, that seemed ages ago, now. And that was the extent of the sex Ron Weasley had had.
To date.
But. Sex with Harry.
Bloody fucking hell, there weren't enough curse words for that.
Harry made these noises. All. The. Time.
Inside Ron, just at the right moment when Ron thrust backwards and Harry thrust forwards and Harry buried his teeth in Ron's neck and very nearly growled.
Well, that was enough for Ron, and he came.
•
'Oi, could you not.'
'Not what?'
'Stare.'
'I'm staring?'
'Quite a bit, actually.'
'Sorry,' Ron said unapologetically. 'In my defense - '
'Yes?' asked Harry, arching an eyebrow.
'Well, you are naked.'
'Yes.' Harry waited for Ron to continue. 'Anything else?'
Ron blushed. 'No, not really. You're naked and you're bloody - well, look at you.'
Harry glanced down at his naked body sprawled across Ron's bed. He looked confused.
'What are you on about?'
'You!' Ron exclaimed. 'You're bloody fucking gorgeous.'
Harry smirked. 'I am? Gorgeous?'
Ron blushed even deeper and turned away. 'Never mind.'
Harry kissed Ron's shoulder.
'Thank you.'
•
Ron worried at his lower lip, wondering exactly the best way to ask. It was kind of a delicate matter, after all. Calling for subtlety and restraint.
Calling for everything Ron wasn’t.
Fuck it, he decided. Best to just ask.
'So.' He cleared his throat, and Harry looked up from his toast.
And just that image - Harry sitting at his kitchen table, drinking coffee, eating toast, having breakfast. It made everything a whole lot simpler, didn't it?
'Ron?' Harry prompted.
Shaking himself mentally, Ron tried to focus. 'Right. Um. So - does this make you my boyfriend?'
Harry grinned. 'It better.'
From: certifieddork
Title: Last Weekend
Rating: R
Words: 1000 on the nose (see below)
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing that you would recognise, this is all just in fun.
Author's Note: It's a drabble series! I love drabbles. I love the intensity, and trying to tell a whole lot in just a little bit. So I took the prompt Harry & Ron coming to terms with their attraction to each other and kind of ran with it over 1000 words, 100 at a time. As the title implies, I see this happening over two or three days - my boys are impatient! I hope it's to your liking. End of ramble.
Thanks to the lovely mods for not smacking me (when they had reason to!), betas who got frustrated at the 100-words-only concept and anyone else who encouraged and supported me.
•
Ron was trying to ignore Harry. He was failing, miserably. It was hard; his eyes kept glancing to the right, seemingly of their own accord, taking in every square inch of the bare skin that was exposed to him mere feet away.
It was hard - no pun intended, either, though it was hard and he was hard and it was all he could do to keep his back to Harry only slightly. He didn't want to arouse - no fucking pun fucking intended - !
For Merlin's sake, it wasn't enough showering with Harry, even his own inner monologue was against him!
•
He'd seen naked girls before.
Ok, maybe not many, and almost none outside of a magazine. But still. A naked girl. He had an idea.
But in that crucial moment, when Ron should have maybe been thinking about one of those magazine girls or Hermione, or maybe anything with tits, he was thinking only of Harry.
Under the shower, almost glistening as he stepped out of it, his legs and arse as he walked away, the way he cocked his head and looked at Ron.
As if Harry knew what Ron was thinking.
And Ron could only think of Harry.
•
The first time Ron kissed him, Harry tasted like Firewhiskey. They were only mildly drunk, really, but they'd had a couple. The pub was hazy with cigarette smoke and who-knows-what-else smoke. It was getting late.
Harry was laughing at something that had happened behind Ron, but Ron couldn't be bothered to turn and find out what. He couldn't be bothered to turn his eyes from Harry.
Noticing, Harry leaned across the oak table. 'You're staring at me,' he murmured.
'I know,' Ron said, leaning closer.
Harry just stared at him, not moving and Ron kept leaning until their lips touched.
•
'I never thought - '
'Yeah, well, neither did I.'
'But - for how long, exactly?'
Ron hesitated. How long, exactly? Difficult to tell. Maybe always …
No, not always, that was just ridiculous. But if wasn't always, then it was some fixed time, a fixed moment But how long, exactly? What an impossible question.
'No idea,' Ron said finally. Best to be honest here, right? He'd come this far, after all.
Harry stared down into his pint. 'Not even an estimate?'
Ron shrugged.
'Because - ' Harry took a long draught. I still - I remember. First time I knew.'
Ron's eyes widened.
•
'Not that I'm - '
'No!' Ron agreed quickly. 'Nor am I. … I don’t think.'
Harry smirked. 'You don't think?'
Ron glared at him. 'I just mean - I've never - aah - you're the, um, first. But technically - you're a bloke. I'm a bloke. But, in general - '
'So I'm special, yeah?' Harry asked, laughing.
'I guess you are,' Ron replied, unable to sound anything but completely serious.
As much as he wanted to laugh it off, as much as he wanted to play this light - nothing had ever been more special to him than Harry.
It wasn't funny - just true.
•
Next time, Harry kissed him. Quite emphatically. Grabbed his hair, pulled him close. No hesitation - the way Harry did things he'd set his mind to.
Ron's eyes closed, instinctively. Harry's mouth moved quickly, insistently, and in that moment, there wasn't anything Ron would deny Harry.
Fumbling at Harry's robes, Ron brought him closer, ground against him, fell back into the flat's wall, let Harry pin him there.
As Harry's tongue slid against his, Ron felt his hand on his bare back, under his shirt, at the waist of his jeans and shivers ran down his spine.
This would be good.
•
Ron didn't want to offend Hermione. He didn't want to offend anybody who had done this to him before.
But bloody hell, nobody could do this the same way that somebody who had had it done to them could do it.
One minute, Harry's hand had been on his cock through his jeans, the next they were on. his. cock. Full stop. Harry's warm palm on his warm -
And before he could finish that thought - who could bloody think at a time like this? - he was in Harry's mouth.
Ron groaned, and Harry hummed, and Ron came, and Harry smiled.
•
Sex, in general, was fantastic, Ron thought. With himself first thing in the morning, the couple of times he'd done it with Hermione - Merlin, that seemed ages ago, now. And that was the extent of the sex Ron Weasley had had.
To date.
But. Sex with Harry.
Bloody fucking hell, there weren't enough curse words for that.
Harry made these noises. All. The. Time.
Inside Ron, just at the right moment when Ron thrust backwards and Harry thrust forwards and Harry buried his teeth in Ron's neck and very nearly growled.
Well, that was enough for Ron, and he came.
•
'Oi, could you not.'
'Not what?'
'Stare.'
'I'm staring?'
'Quite a bit, actually.'
'Sorry,' Ron said unapologetically. 'In my defense - '
'Yes?' asked Harry, arching an eyebrow.
'Well, you are naked.'
'Yes.' Harry waited for Ron to continue. 'Anything else?'
Ron blushed. 'No, not really. You're naked and you're bloody - well, look at you.'
Harry glanced down at his naked body sprawled across Ron's bed. He looked confused.
'What are you on about?'
'You!' Ron exclaimed. 'You're bloody fucking gorgeous.'
Harry smirked. 'I am? Gorgeous?'
Ron blushed even deeper and turned away. 'Never mind.'
Harry kissed Ron's shoulder.
'Thank you.'
•
Ron worried at his lower lip, wondering exactly the best way to ask. It was kind of a delicate matter, after all. Calling for subtlety and restraint.
Calling for everything Ron wasn’t.
Fuck it, he decided. Best to just ask.
'So.' He cleared his throat, and Harry looked up from his toast.
And just that image - Harry sitting at his kitchen table, drinking coffee, eating toast, having breakfast. It made everything a whole lot simpler, didn't it?
'Ron?' Harry prompted.
Shaking himself mentally, Ron tried to focus. 'Right. Um. So - does this make you my boyfriend?'
Harry grinned. 'It better.'