Poised on the Rim
Title: Poised on the Rim
Author: shocolate
Requestor: ron_or_ginny
Claim: Harry hasn't heard of rimming.
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR, all descriptions of genitalia are fictional, and do not refer to DJR.
I wonder if it made magicofisis blush, as she betaed it? I know maple_mahogany just sniggered.
Poised on the Rim
****
Over the last seven years, I would say that eighty-seven per cent of our sexual information has come from Seamus.
From the heady days of ‘don’t rub your prick, you’ll grow hair on the palms of yer hands’, through the whole ‘Lavender has grown bosoms’, the fascinating ‘Hannah Abbot will let you put yer hand on her tit, if you buy her a butterbeer’, to the detailed description of a girl’s bits, in close up, as hairy roast beef, after his summer back home before sixth year.
I’m not saying it was Seamus’ information that turned me queer, but I certainly never wanted Lisa Turpin, with her chipped front tooth, nibbling on my bits.
And you’d think that the unrelentingly straight Irishman would have been stumped by the news that Harry and I were together, but you’d be under-, or possibly over-, estimating him.
The five of us Gryffindor Boys had met up at the Three Broomsticks, when Harry and I swung through Hogsmeade on our Hunt.
After a cold winter sharing a small tent and our body heat, we’d discovered snogging and joint hand jobs in a big way. We’d admitted to each other - and to Hermione - that we wanted to take it further, but tents and nerves prevented anything more pornographic than exploring fingers and a bit of rubbing against each other with our boxers round our thighs.
And there was no one in the world I’d rather rub my cock against, believe me.
So, we’d taken a double room at the Three Broomsticks and owled Seamus, Dean and Neville to meet us for a few nerve-stiffening drinks to pass the time before we could decently turn in for the night.
Seamus took it upon himself to fill us in on the news from school.
Not the DADA syllabus that Tonks was following, not the efforts McGonagall was making to keep the school open.
The fact that Hannah had been caught with her knickers down in Greenhouse Six, that Colin had taken pictures of Romilda, half-naked, and would sell you a copy for a Sickle, and that there was definite bush visible, if you watched it over often enough.
“Um, great,” Harry said unenthusiastically.
“You could sound a bit more interested,” Seamus grumbled. “We’re talking actual pubes, here, Harry. When d’you last touch actual pubes?”
“This morning,” Harry said.
Seamus snorted. “Not your own pubes, you twat,” he complained.
“Not my own pubes,” Harry agreed.
“There’s no way St Hermione grants pubic access,” Seamus spluttered.
“Seamus!” Dean protested, eying me nervously.
“This morning, when we checked in, here, at the pub,” Harry elaborated.
As soon as the door’d closed behind Madam Rosmerta, he’d pressed me up against it and stuck a hand down my trousers and growled against my neck as he stroked my cock.
I grinned reminiscently at him as Seamus narrowed his eyes and watched Rosmerta behind the bar.
“I know fer a fact Rosmerta won’t fuck anyone who’s still at school,” he said. “Don’t tell me you convinced her that dropping out a year early was good enough for her to drop her knickers. Generations of boys have only passed their NEWTs to get into those knickers.”
“It worked for George,” I said, but Seamus brushed that away, his eyes locked on Harry’s.
“Tell me you didn’t,” he said.
“I didn’t!” Harry laughed.
“Then whose?” Seamus asked.
“Ron’s,” Harry said simply.
Well, I hadn’t expected to be outed like that, but it was worth it to see the look on Seamus’ face.
“But Ron’s a bloke,” Neville said.
“I know that,” Harry said.
“And you…” Neville trailed off.
“Access his pubes,” Harry confirmed. “Regularly.”
“So, you’re saying you’re bent,” Seamus said slowly.
“Um, yeah,” Harry said.
The three of them blinked at us and I started to worry.
“S’cuse me,” Dean said, necking his drink and standing up. “That makes Ginny available.”
I snorted and Harry waved him off.
Ginny had been the first person to see it coming. Or to hear it. Coming. She took it rather well, considering no one wants their bloke calling out their brother’s name when they ravish them. She just Hexed him and told him he’d better not break my heart and at least it was her favourite brother.
Neville still looked confused.
“But what about Hermione?” he asked me. “I always thought that you liked Hermione.”
“Ah, apparently that’s a common mistake,” I said. “It’s what Harry thought, too. Practically the first conversation we had, when we started off on our Quest. ‘So, Ron, you and Hermione?’ And I said, ‘What? Me and Hermione? Too much like hard work!’ and that was why he’d never let himself hope, never let himself make his move. Not if his best friend liked me. But, no. Me and Hermione are just friends, and me and Harry are together.”
“S’cuse me,” Neville said, standing up. “That makes Hermione available.”
Harry and I looked at Seamus.
Surely, bush accessing Seamus wouldn’t take our news so well.
“Right,” he said. “I’ve clearly been wasting my time, here.”
My blood literally ran cold in my veins. For all his filthy mouth and womanising and inappropriateness, I was rather fond of the git.
“Seamus,” Harry said slowly.
“Terry Boot,” Seamus said.
“What?”
“I’ve been wasting my time telling you about Hannah’s knickers, haven’t I? Well, you’ll want to know what Terry Boot was caught doing.”
“I will?” Harry asked.
“Well, Ron will,” Seamus said.
“I will?” I said weakly.
“D’you ever miss yer Keeper’s glove, after the last Quidditch match?” Seamus asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “My right glove.”
Seamus waggled his eyebrows. “Terry was caught wanking with it,” he said triumphantly. “Sprawled, starkers, at the top of the Astronomy tower, thrusting into your glove.”
“What?” I gasped.
“You wanted the queer gossip,” Seamus said happily.
“No, I didn’t,” I protested.
“And Colin has a picture of Goyle with his face buried between definite male arse cheeks, but he won’t say whose,” Seamus said. “At least I hope they are male arse cheeks… I suppose it could be Millicent.”
“Doing what?” Harry asked.
“Rimming him,” Seamus said.
“What?”
“Rimming his arse,” Seamus said.
Harry looked back and forth between us.
“And is that some Wizarding World thing I’ve never heard of?” he asked.
“Uh, no,” I said slowly.
“Sticking yer tongue up a bloke’s arse,” Seamus said. “Or a very accommodating woman.”
“Why would he do that?” Harry asked.
“Over to yer man on that one, I think,” Seamus said.
“Shut up, Seamus.”
“And you’ll have heard about your brother, of course,” he said cheerfully.
“Brother?” I echoed nervously.
“Percy.”
“I don’t think I want to know,” I muttered.
“Demoted at work - caught with Fudge’s fingers up his arse.”
I closed my eyes and leant forward, banging my head hard on the scratched table, between us.
“Stop it, Ron,” Harry said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think this was his thing,” Seamus said.
“What thing?” Harry asked.
“He always wanted something that was his thing, after following all those brothers, didn’t he?” Seamus explained. “And he thought taking it up the arse was gonna be his thing; but Perce got there first.”
I banged my head again and Harry grabbed a handful of hair to stop me and that hurt even more.
“Uh, Seamus, I think we’ll be turning in,” Harry said. “I think Ron’s had a bit of an information overload.”
Harry dragged me to my feet and Seamus raised his pint glass and toasted us as we headed towards the stairs.
Depositing me on our double bed, he turned to lock and Impeturb the door.
“It’s not my thing,” I said.
“Hmmm?”
“You’re my thing.”
“I know that,” he said. “You know Seamus’ blarney; I didn’t think it was your thing. Who’d have someone bugger them just to get one up on their brothers?”
I laughed.
“Although,” he said.
“It’s really not my thing!” I spluttered.
He gave me a look. “Seamus’ blarney.”
“Well, we should be used to him, by now.”
“No. The. Um. Arse thing,” he said, sitting beside me.
“I thought that’s why we’re here?” I said, flushing.
“The other arse thing.”
“What?”
“The, um. Thing Seamus said.”
“Rimming?” I asked quietly.
Harry nodded abruptly.
“Do people… really?”
“Apparently,” I said. “I’m hardly an expert, am I?”
“And are we s’possed to?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Hadn’t thought about it. I doubt there are rules about stuff like this.”
“D’you… want to?”
I blinked at him and pictured his arse.
“Well, not in cold blood,” I said, finally.
“Huh?”
“Harry, can’t we just see what happens?” I pleaded. “It’s gonna be weird enough, anyway.”
“You don’t want to.”
“Stick my tongue up your arse?”
“Any of it. You’ve changed your mind.”
“Don’t you dare go all girly on me!” I protested. “Who’s been rubbing their cock against yours all winter? Who’s had their fingers up your arse as you come? Who’s desperate to fuck you?”
“Sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “’M just nervous.”
I slung my arm round his shoulders and pulled him against me.
“We don’t have to do it,” I said. “It is sort of a big deal.”
“I want to do it!” he said. “I just don’t think I can strip off and present arse like that.”
“That’s what I meant,” I said, shaking him gently. “Let’s just start off like we usually do and see what happens.”
He looked up at me and gave me a ridiculously bashful smile for someone who’d been fondling my bollocks for weeks and I kissed him and pulled him down onto the bed.
We settled down to a good snog, hands wandering and untucking and unbuttoning and soon we’d freed each other’s cocks and I had my hand wrapped round both of them as Harry rocked on top of me.
And very soon any worries about what we were gonna do had completely slipped my mind, because Harry was gasping and thrusting and clawing at me, and that was somehow sexier than the fact it was my cock he was thrusting against.
I grunted and flipped him over and he thrust off the bed and looked startled until I struggled out of my clothes and helped him kick his way out of his jeans and boxers.
Nudging his legs apart, I knelt between them and slid up his body for a deep kiss.
“Touch yourself,” I whispered, before hauling myself up onto hands and knees and kissing my way down his neck.
His hand rose to tug on his cock as I bit his collar bone and he gasped my name.
The jolt of power that that gave me made me brave enough to press kisses all down his body as I crawled backwards.
He spread his legs as I reached his groin and I watched him wanking and breathed him in and wanted him utterly and completely and he was all mine.
Dipping my head, I lapped at his balls and curled my tongue around the base of his cock as his hand slid up his shaft and he cried out and his free hand came up to touch my face.
“’Sgood,” he muttered.
“Tastes good,” I murmured into his skin.
“Do it,” he said.
“Hmmm?”
“The… you know… the thing…”
Cupping his balls in my hand, I looked up at him; up past the strong, square hand stroking his cock, up past the crisp black hair that led my eyes onwards, to the erect pink nipples and the dazed eyes, looking back at me.
“Thing?” I echoed, with a smirk.
“You know,” he said, nodding and spreading his legs, significantly.
“If you can’t even wrap your tongue around the word,” I said sadly. “I am certainly not sticking my tongue up your arse.”
He moaned. “Please, Ron,” he whispered, face flushing. “Use your mouth, please.”
“Close enough,” I said, shifting lower and rubbing my own aching cock on the sheets as he hooked his hands under his knees and I cupped his cheeks and spread them and opened him up for me.
“I’m going in,” I said, in a loud whisper.
“Oh, just do it,” he whined.
He was shaking as I lowered my head and sucked on his balls, muttering a stream of nonsense words, that reached a babbling crescendo - yes, Hermione, crescendo - as my tongue ran between his cheeks and brushed across his hole.
Not that I can actually tell Hermione how I alternated between circling his entrance and stabbing my tongue inside him, or how he cried out and writhed under my mouth.
Or how his hand fell to his cock as I sucked on my fingers and pressed a fingertip inside him.
Or how he came in great spurts all over his belly as I stretched him and fucked him with my fingers and tongue.
He milked the last drops from his cock and I crawled over him, lapping up a stray bead on his chest.
“Urgh,” he said weakly. “How can you do that?”
“’Cos it’s you,” I said smugly, sealing my lips over his and letting him taste the come and his musk on my tongue.
He kissed me back, hungrily, and murmured happily as I nuzzled my way along his jaw to his ear.
“Harry?” I whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“Can I?”
“Anything.”
I laughed and bit his neck.
“The other… arse thing?” I asked.
“That’s why we’re here,” he said, his voice barely shaking.
I hauled myself up onto my knees and he sat up.
“Um… how…?”
“D’you think you’re debauched enough to present arse, now?” I asked, running my hands down his arms and leaning in for another kiss.
He rolled his eyes and tried to look put upon, but flushed and turned round and settled on knees and elbows, his legs spread for me.
“Wow,” I breathed, running my hand down his back and over the curve of his arse. “It really is a fabulous arse, Harry.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“There is no way I am gonna let evil defeat this arse,” I said, letting my thumb slip between his cheeks and press against his entrance.
He laughed. “You are insane,” he said.
“I’m serious,” I protested, kneeling between his legs and sliding a finger into him. “This is the Arse He Knows Not.”
But Harry was moaning and pushing back against me and beyond laughing at my jokes, so I switched modes, from making him happy by making him laugh, to making him happy by fucking his brains out.
And I took a deep breath and puffed it out through my nose and held my cock at his entrance and pressed into him, and he was shaking as I bent to kiss the back of his neck and clawing at the sheets as I moved inside him.
And, by the time I came inside him, we were both a trembling, sweaty mess, who collapsed onto the bed, blinking at each other.
“Wow,” I said.
“Wow,” he echoed, weakly.
“Was that alright?” I asked.
“That was amazing,” he said. “Everything was amazing.”
“Good.”
I reached out and pulled him closer and he slid sweatily against me.
“D’you reckon…?”
“What, Harry?”
“D’you reckon there’s any other arse stuff I haven’t heard of?”
“Dunno,” I said. “Let’s ask Seamus.”
****
I have to credit oncelikeshari for the fingers of Fudge, just in case anyone actually noticed I’d pinched her joke!
Yes, my icon is amazing. Notice Harry's big toes curling in ecstacy and Ron's hand stroking himself.
Author: shocolate
Requestor: ron_or_ginny
Claim: Harry hasn't heard of rimming.
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR, all descriptions of genitalia are fictional, and do not refer to DJR.
I wonder if it made magicofisis blush, as she betaed it? I know maple_mahogany just sniggered.
Poised on the Rim
****
Over the last seven years, I would say that eighty-seven per cent of our sexual information has come from Seamus.
From the heady days of ‘don’t rub your prick, you’ll grow hair on the palms of yer hands’, through the whole ‘Lavender has grown bosoms’, the fascinating ‘Hannah Abbot will let you put yer hand on her tit, if you buy her a butterbeer’, to the detailed description of a girl’s bits, in close up, as hairy roast beef, after his summer back home before sixth year.
I’m not saying it was Seamus’ information that turned me queer, but I certainly never wanted Lisa Turpin, with her chipped front tooth, nibbling on my bits.
And you’d think that the unrelentingly straight Irishman would have been stumped by the news that Harry and I were together, but you’d be under-, or possibly over-, estimating him.
The five of us Gryffindor Boys had met up at the Three Broomsticks, when Harry and I swung through Hogsmeade on our Hunt.
After a cold winter sharing a small tent and our body heat, we’d discovered snogging and joint hand jobs in a big way. We’d admitted to each other - and to Hermione - that we wanted to take it further, but tents and nerves prevented anything more pornographic than exploring fingers and a bit of rubbing against each other with our boxers round our thighs.
And there was no one in the world I’d rather rub my cock against, believe me.
So, we’d taken a double room at the Three Broomsticks and owled Seamus, Dean and Neville to meet us for a few nerve-stiffening drinks to pass the time before we could decently turn in for the night.
Seamus took it upon himself to fill us in on the news from school.
Not the DADA syllabus that Tonks was following, not the efforts McGonagall was making to keep the school open.
The fact that Hannah had been caught with her knickers down in Greenhouse Six, that Colin had taken pictures of Romilda, half-naked, and would sell you a copy for a Sickle, and that there was definite bush visible, if you watched it over often enough.
“Um, great,” Harry said unenthusiastically.
“You could sound a bit more interested,” Seamus grumbled. “We’re talking actual pubes, here, Harry. When d’you last touch actual pubes?”
“This morning,” Harry said.
Seamus snorted. “Not your own pubes, you twat,” he complained.
“Not my own pubes,” Harry agreed.
“There’s no way St Hermione grants pubic access,” Seamus spluttered.
“Seamus!” Dean protested, eying me nervously.
“This morning, when we checked in, here, at the pub,” Harry elaborated.
As soon as the door’d closed behind Madam Rosmerta, he’d pressed me up against it and stuck a hand down my trousers and growled against my neck as he stroked my cock.
I grinned reminiscently at him as Seamus narrowed his eyes and watched Rosmerta behind the bar.
“I know fer a fact Rosmerta won’t fuck anyone who’s still at school,” he said. “Don’t tell me you convinced her that dropping out a year early was good enough for her to drop her knickers. Generations of boys have only passed their NEWTs to get into those knickers.”
“It worked for George,” I said, but Seamus brushed that away, his eyes locked on Harry’s.
“Tell me you didn’t,” he said.
“I didn’t!” Harry laughed.
“Then whose?” Seamus asked.
“Ron’s,” Harry said simply.
Well, I hadn’t expected to be outed like that, but it was worth it to see the look on Seamus’ face.
“But Ron’s a bloke,” Neville said.
“I know that,” Harry said.
“And you…” Neville trailed off.
“Access his pubes,” Harry confirmed. “Regularly.”
“So, you’re saying you’re bent,” Seamus said slowly.
“Um, yeah,” Harry said.
The three of them blinked at us and I started to worry.
“S’cuse me,” Dean said, necking his drink and standing up. “That makes Ginny available.”
I snorted and Harry waved him off.
Ginny had been the first person to see it coming. Or to hear it. Coming. She took it rather well, considering no one wants their bloke calling out their brother’s name when they ravish them. She just Hexed him and told him he’d better not break my heart and at least it was her favourite brother.
Neville still looked confused.
“But what about Hermione?” he asked me. “I always thought that you liked Hermione.”
“Ah, apparently that’s a common mistake,” I said. “It’s what Harry thought, too. Practically the first conversation we had, when we started off on our Quest. ‘So, Ron, you and Hermione?’ And I said, ‘What? Me and Hermione? Too much like hard work!’ and that was why he’d never let himself hope, never let himself make his move. Not if his best friend liked me. But, no. Me and Hermione are just friends, and me and Harry are together.”
“S’cuse me,” Neville said, standing up. “That makes Hermione available.”
Harry and I looked at Seamus.
Surely, bush accessing Seamus wouldn’t take our news so well.
“Right,” he said. “I’ve clearly been wasting my time, here.”
My blood literally ran cold in my veins. For all his filthy mouth and womanising and inappropriateness, I was rather fond of the git.
“Seamus,” Harry said slowly.
“Terry Boot,” Seamus said.
“What?”
“I’ve been wasting my time telling you about Hannah’s knickers, haven’t I? Well, you’ll want to know what Terry Boot was caught doing.”
“I will?” Harry asked.
“Well, Ron will,” Seamus said.
“I will?” I said weakly.
“D’you ever miss yer Keeper’s glove, after the last Quidditch match?” Seamus asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said. “My right glove.”
Seamus waggled his eyebrows. “Terry was caught wanking with it,” he said triumphantly. “Sprawled, starkers, at the top of the Astronomy tower, thrusting into your glove.”
“What?” I gasped.
“You wanted the queer gossip,” Seamus said happily.
“No, I didn’t,” I protested.
“And Colin has a picture of Goyle with his face buried between definite male arse cheeks, but he won’t say whose,” Seamus said. “At least I hope they are male arse cheeks… I suppose it could be Millicent.”
“Doing what?” Harry asked.
“Rimming him,” Seamus said.
“What?”
“Rimming his arse,” Seamus said.
Harry looked back and forth between us.
“And is that some Wizarding World thing I’ve never heard of?” he asked.
“Uh, no,” I said slowly.
“Sticking yer tongue up a bloke’s arse,” Seamus said. “Or a very accommodating woman.”
“Why would he do that?” Harry asked.
“Over to yer man on that one, I think,” Seamus said.
“Shut up, Seamus.”
“And you’ll have heard about your brother, of course,” he said cheerfully.
“Brother?” I echoed nervously.
“Percy.”
“I don’t think I want to know,” I muttered.
“Demoted at work - caught with Fudge’s fingers up his arse.”
I closed my eyes and leant forward, banging my head hard on the scratched table, between us.
“Stop it, Ron,” Harry said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think this was his thing,” Seamus said.
“What thing?” Harry asked.
“He always wanted something that was his thing, after following all those brothers, didn’t he?” Seamus explained. “And he thought taking it up the arse was gonna be his thing; but Perce got there first.”
I banged my head again and Harry grabbed a handful of hair to stop me and that hurt even more.
“Uh, Seamus, I think we’ll be turning in,” Harry said. “I think Ron’s had a bit of an information overload.”
Harry dragged me to my feet and Seamus raised his pint glass and toasted us as we headed towards the stairs.
Depositing me on our double bed, he turned to lock and Impeturb the door.
“It’s not my thing,” I said.
“Hmmm?”
“You’re my thing.”
“I know that,” he said. “You know Seamus’ blarney; I didn’t think it was your thing. Who’d have someone bugger them just to get one up on their brothers?”
I laughed.
“Although,” he said.
“It’s really not my thing!” I spluttered.
He gave me a look. “Seamus’ blarney.”
“Well, we should be used to him, by now.”
“No. The. Um. Arse thing,” he said, sitting beside me.
“I thought that’s why we’re here?” I said, flushing.
“The other arse thing.”
“What?”
“The, um. Thing Seamus said.”
“Rimming?” I asked quietly.
Harry nodded abruptly.
“Do people… really?”
“Apparently,” I said. “I’m hardly an expert, am I?”
“And are we s’possed to?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Hadn’t thought about it. I doubt there are rules about stuff like this.”
“D’you… want to?”
I blinked at him and pictured his arse.
“Well, not in cold blood,” I said, finally.
“Huh?”
“Harry, can’t we just see what happens?” I pleaded. “It’s gonna be weird enough, anyway.”
“You don’t want to.”
“Stick my tongue up your arse?”
“Any of it. You’ve changed your mind.”
“Don’t you dare go all girly on me!” I protested. “Who’s been rubbing their cock against yours all winter? Who’s had their fingers up your arse as you come? Who’s desperate to fuck you?”
“Sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “’M just nervous.”
I slung my arm round his shoulders and pulled him against me.
“We don’t have to do it,” I said. “It is sort of a big deal.”
“I want to do it!” he said. “I just don’t think I can strip off and present arse like that.”
“That’s what I meant,” I said, shaking him gently. “Let’s just start off like we usually do and see what happens.”
He looked up at me and gave me a ridiculously bashful smile for someone who’d been fondling my bollocks for weeks and I kissed him and pulled him down onto the bed.
We settled down to a good snog, hands wandering and untucking and unbuttoning and soon we’d freed each other’s cocks and I had my hand wrapped round both of them as Harry rocked on top of me.
And very soon any worries about what we were gonna do had completely slipped my mind, because Harry was gasping and thrusting and clawing at me, and that was somehow sexier than the fact it was my cock he was thrusting against.
I grunted and flipped him over and he thrust off the bed and looked startled until I struggled out of my clothes and helped him kick his way out of his jeans and boxers.
Nudging his legs apart, I knelt between them and slid up his body for a deep kiss.
“Touch yourself,” I whispered, before hauling myself up onto hands and knees and kissing my way down his neck.
His hand rose to tug on his cock as I bit his collar bone and he gasped my name.
The jolt of power that that gave me made me brave enough to press kisses all down his body as I crawled backwards.
He spread his legs as I reached his groin and I watched him wanking and breathed him in and wanted him utterly and completely and he was all mine.
Dipping my head, I lapped at his balls and curled my tongue around the base of his cock as his hand slid up his shaft and he cried out and his free hand came up to touch my face.
“’Sgood,” he muttered.
“Tastes good,” I murmured into his skin.
“Do it,” he said.
“Hmmm?”
“The… you know… the thing…”
Cupping his balls in my hand, I looked up at him; up past the strong, square hand stroking his cock, up past the crisp black hair that led my eyes onwards, to the erect pink nipples and the dazed eyes, looking back at me.
“Thing?” I echoed, with a smirk.
“You know,” he said, nodding and spreading his legs, significantly.
“If you can’t even wrap your tongue around the word,” I said sadly. “I am certainly not sticking my tongue up your arse.”
He moaned. “Please, Ron,” he whispered, face flushing. “Use your mouth, please.”
“Close enough,” I said, shifting lower and rubbing my own aching cock on the sheets as he hooked his hands under his knees and I cupped his cheeks and spread them and opened him up for me.
“I’m going in,” I said, in a loud whisper.
“Oh, just do it,” he whined.
He was shaking as I lowered my head and sucked on his balls, muttering a stream of nonsense words, that reached a babbling crescendo - yes, Hermione, crescendo - as my tongue ran between his cheeks and brushed across his hole.
Not that I can actually tell Hermione how I alternated between circling his entrance and stabbing my tongue inside him, or how he cried out and writhed under my mouth.
Or how his hand fell to his cock as I sucked on my fingers and pressed a fingertip inside him.
Or how he came in great spurts all over his belly as I stretched him and fucked him with my fingers and tongue.
He milked the last drops from his cock and I crawled over him, lapping up a stray bead on his chest.
“Urgh,” he said weakly. “How can you do that?”
“’Cos it’s you,” I said smugly, sealing my lips over his and letting him taste the come and his musk on my tongue.
He kissed me back, hungrily, and murmured happily as I nuzzled my way along his jaw to his ear.
“Harry?” I whispered.
“Hmmm?”
“Can I?”
“Anything.”
I laughed and bit his neck.
“The other… arse thing?” I asked.
“That’s why we’re here,” he said, his voice barely shaking.
I hauled myself up onto my knees and he sat up.
“Um… how…?”
“D’you think you’re debauched enough to present arse, now?” I asked, running my hands down his arms and leaning in for another kiss.
He rolled his eyes and tried to look put upon, but flushed and turned round and settled on knees and elbows, his legs spread for me.
“Wow,” I breathed, running my hand down his back and over the curve of his arse. “It really is a fabulous arse, Harry.”
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“There is no way I am gonna let evil defeat this arse,” I said, letting my thumb slip between his cheeks and press against his entrance.
He laughed. “You are insane,” he said.
“I’m serious,” I protested, kneeling between his legs and sliding a finger into him. “This is the Arse He Knows Not.”
But Harry was moaning and pushing back against me and beyond laughing at my jokes, so I switched modes, from making him happy by making him laugh, to making him happy by fucking his brains out.
And I took a deep breath and puffed it out through my nose and held my cock at his entrance and pressed into him, and he was shaking as I bent to kiss the back of his neck and clawing at the sheets as I moved inside him.
And, by the time I came inside him, we were both a trembling, sweaty mess, who collapsed onto the bed, blinking at each other.
“Wow,” I said.
“Wow,” he echoed, weakly.
“Was that alright?” I asked.
“That was amazing,” he said. “Everything was amazing.”
“Good.”
I reached out and pulled him closer and he slid sweatily against me.
“D’you reckon…?”
“What, Harry?”
“D’you reckon there’s any other arse stuff I haven’t heard of?”
“Dunno,” I said. “Let’s ask Seamus.”
****
I have to credit oncelikeshari for the fingers of Fudge, just in case anyone actually noticed I’d pinched her joke!
Yes, my icon is amazing. Notice Harry's big toes curling in ecstacy and Ron's hand stroking himself.