Harry Potter Fic:Flower Boy.
I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to read about Harry Potter in a kimono. Icouldn't find a fic, so I wrote one!!!
It's Harry/Ron!!!
Title: Flower Boy (1/1).
Auther: lupin_stargazer
Rating: nc-17
Genre: Romance.
Pairing:Harry/Ron
Warning: Public masturbation and sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Title: Flower Boy.
Auther: lupin_stargazer
Rating: nc-17
Genre: Romance.
Pairing:Harry/Ron
Warning: Public masturbation and sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
It was a common misconception among Hogwarts students that Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were the only such places in London. However, that was not the case. There were magical places that weren't talked about in polite society. Places that students need never go.
Desire Alley was such a place.
The streets of Desire Alley were lined not with colorful shops or ice cream parlors, but large, elegant mansions and tiny, little houses with blacked-out windows. It wasn't the joyful laughter of children that echoed off the cobblestones, but throaty moans of pleasure.
Ron Weasley didn't even want to imagine his mother's reaction to the news that he'd even set foot in Desire Alley. He had no doubt that she would, eventually. The knowing smirks on his brothers faces when he left the Burrow, night after night, without any sort of explanation, spoke volumes. But he wasn't going to submit to her demands. Not this time. Not when his heart was here, in this hidden back alley. It had resided here for over a year now.
Ever sense Harry ran away.
It had hurt, waking up that morning to find Harry gone. But truthfully, Ron didn't blame him. After the way society had turned on him, he had almost expected Harry to flee. Harry had killed the Voldemort in a spectacular display of very public magic on the third anniversary of Sirius Black's fall through the vale. Ron had been there, of course, along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. He'd been one of many witnesses to a power not seen sense the days of Merlin, watching as the Mighty Dark Lord withered away right before their eyes, leaving nothing behind but a pile of goo on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. And he had gotten nothing in return but accusations and guilt.
Ron pulled himself out of bad memories as he arrived at his destination. Looking up at it, he grinned in anticipation. It was a large mansion, built to resemble a Japanese Palace. Yet the name of the establishment was French.
Le Garçon de Fleur de Danse.
The doorman, dressed in the plain black and white kimono of a staff member, didn't ask him for identification. Ron was a regular. Everybody knew him, and he knew all of them. He had a usual table, right in front of the stage. He had a usual drink, which a black and white clad waitress, hair hidden under an elaborate black wig, was quick to bring him. It was in their job description to giggle and flirt, but they knew not to try that with him. He had eyes for none of them.
He sat at his table, sipping his drink, as the other tables filled up around him. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but it didn't matter to him. He would wait forever if he had to.
The lights dimmed. Soft guitar music started. Amongst the soft melody and pale lights, a dozen figures emerged from the shadows. Twelve young men, dressed in a rainbow of colorful Kimonos, began a graceful dance. Ron barely paid them a glance. They were just the opening act. He was there for the main attraction.
Suddenly, the music picked up. All the young men on the stage stopped their dance and flipped open large, painted fans. As one, they moved toward to center of the stage, holding the fans out in front of them, creating a barrier. The music swelled, picked up speed, then abruptly cut off. The dancers snapped their fans shut and vanished into the shadows, reveling a single figure behind the fans. Ron leaned forward in his seat, body taunt with anticipation.
He was standing with his back to the suddenly cheering crowd, a paper parasol painted with lilies perched on one shoulder, dressed in a beaded, emerald green kimono. The music started up again, and the figure snapped his parasol closed, turning to face the crowd as he did so. Ron's breath caught in his throat. The young man before him was beauty personified.
Long, black hair was pulled up in elaborate braids, held in place with jeweled hair sticks. Slender hands were painted with flowers. The boyish looking face was painted white. Green, green eyes were made even greener by jade eyeshadow. Full, kissable lips were painted red.
The delighted crowd cheered as the music started up again. Very slowly, the dancer began to dance to the soft melody. He couldn't move very much, wrapped in such a form fitting kimono, but Ron wasn't worried. He, like all the other regulars, knew what was coming next. And he wasn't disappointed. Without warning, the music suddenly exploded in dark, sultry beat. The dancer threw aside his parasol and whipped open his kimono, sending the already excited crowd into a frenzy.
Under all the emerald silk was a second kimono, but one much different then the first. Cut off at the knee and completely sheer, this one was a paler sea foam green, form fitting without being constricting, and did nothing to hide the fact that the dancer was completely naked underneath. Naked, that is, except for the flowers. Big, white lilies painted all over his body, giving the illusion of decency without actually covering anything.
Completely indifferent to the wolf-whistles and cat-calls, the vision on the stage began to move his body to the increasingly fast beat. He twisted and turned, jerking his hips. The music got quicker and faster, but the young man had no problem keeping up. His sheer kimono clung to his form as he began to sweat, making his makeup run and his painted flowers blur.
Ron couldn't look away. His hand moved, practically of it's own accord, to unfasten his trousers. It plunged inside, stroking his throbbing cock in time with the beat.
The dancer was now pulling his hair sticks free. Long, loose braids tumbled down his back as the style came undone. One he trailed up in down his chest, the other he brought to his painted lips.
Ron's eyes clenched shut of their own violation as he climaxed hard, splattering hot cream all over himself. The table rattled, and they flew open once again. The dancer had jumped onto it. This close, Ron could just make out the lightning bolt scar on the dancers forehead as painted hands gripped his shirt and pulled him out of his seat, sending his long forgotten drink flying. Ron didn't fight him as he was pushed onto his back, his trousers yanked down about his knees. He distantly heard the loud whoops and shouts of the crowd, but paid them no mind as the dancer crawled on top of him, and his newly re-hardened cock was taken up the tightest, hottest arse in existence. He gripped the dancers hips and began to quickly thrust in time with the music. He didn't last long, but that was just fine. As he brought them to climax, he was only distantly aware of the dancer climbing off him.
Pulling his trousers back up, he slid back into his seat, grinning at the look the dancer sent his way before continuing with his routine, now complete with a layer of hot seed clinging to his kimono. That had just been for the benefit of the crowd. The encore would be back in his private dressing room, and it would be meant only for an audience of one.
Ron.
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Ron was grinning like a fool as he stepped out into the early morning sunlight. Anybody who looked at him could easily tell what he had been doing, what with his rumpled clothing and the smeared make-up covering his exposed skin, but such was a common sight in Desire Alley, and he blended in with the sleepy crowd easily.
Yes, Harry could run away from the world all he wanted, bu he couldn't run away from Ron. Ron would find him, no matter where he hid.
As he made his way toward the entrance, he caught sight of a familiar flash of red hair and grinned as he saw his brother Bill, looking just as rumpled has he did, exit one of the clubs. As far as Ron knew, that particular club was called The Gypsy Caravan, and if memory served him correctly, a certain dark potions master was their main attraction.
He made a mental note to tease Bill about it later.
<>Fin<>
It's Harry/Ron!!!
Title: Flower Boy (1/1).
Auther: lupin_stargazer
Rating: nc-17
Genre: Romance.
Pairing:Harry/Ron
Warning: Public masturbation and sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Title: Flower Boy.
Auther: lupin_stargazer
Rating: nc-17
Genre: Romance.
Pairing:Harry/Ron
Warning: Public masturbation and sex.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
It was a common misconception among Hogwarts students that Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were the only such places in London. However, that was not the case. There were magical places that weren't talked about in polite society. Places that students need never go.
Desire Alley was such a place.
The streets of Desire Alley were lined not with colorful shops or ice cream parlors, but large, elegant mansions and tiny, little houses with blacked-out windows. It wasn't the joyful laughter of children that echoed off the cobblestones, but throaty moans of pleasure.
Ron Weasley didn't even want to imagine his mother's reaction to the news that he'd even set foot in Desire Alley. He had no doubt that she would, eventually. The knowing smirks on his brothers faces when he left the Burrow, night after night, without any sort of explanation, spoke volumes. But he wasn't going to submit to her demands. Not this time. Not when his heart was here, in this hidden back alley. It had resided here for over a year now.
Ever sense Harry ran away.
It had hurt, waking up that morning to find Harry gone. But truthfully, Ron didn't blame him. After the way society had turned on him, he had almost expected Harry to flee. Harry had killed the Voldemort in a spectacular display of very public magic on the third anniversary of Sirius Black's fall through the vale. Ron had been there, of course, along with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. He'd been one of many witnesses to a power not seen sense the days of Merlin, watching as the Mighty Dark Lord withered away right before their eyes, leaving nothing behind but a pile of goo on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. And he had gotten nothing in return but accusations and guilt.
Ron pulled himself out of bad memories as he arrived at his destination. Looking up at it, he grinned in anticipation. It was a large mansion, built to resemble a Japanese Palace. Yet the name of the establishment was French.
Le Garçon de Fleur de Danse.
The doorman, dressed in the plain black and white kimono of a staff member, didn't ask him for identification. Ron was a regular. Everybody knew him, and he knew all of them. He had a usual table, right in front of the stage. He had a usual drink, which a black and white clad waitress, hair hidden under an elaborate black wig, was quick to bring him. It was in their job description to giggle and flirt, but they knew not to try that with him. He had eyes for none of them.
He sat at his table, sipping his drink, as the other tables filled up around him. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but it didn't matter to him. He would wait forever if he had to.
The lights dimmed. Soft guitar music started. Amongst the soft melody and pale lights, a dozen figures emerged from the shadows. Twelve young men, dressed in a rainbow of colorful Kimonos, began a graceful dance. Ron barely paid them a glance. They were just the opening act. He was there for the main attraction.
Suddenly, the music picked up. All the young men on the stage stopped their dance and flipped open large, painted fans. As one, they moved toward to center of the stage, holding the fans out in front of them, creating a barrier. The music swelled, picked up speed, then abruptly cut off. The dancers snapped their fans shut and vanished into the shadows, reveling a single figure behind the fans. Ron leaned forward in his seat, body taunt with anticipation.
He was standing with his back to the suddenly cheering crowd, a paper parasol painted with lilies perched on one shoulder, dressed in a beaded, emerald green kimono. The music started up again, and the figure snapped his parasol closed, turning to face the crowd as he did so. Ron's breath caught in his throat. The young man before him was beauty personified.
Long, black hair was pulled up in elaborate braids, held in place with jeweled hair sticks. Slender hands were painted with flowers. The boyish looking face was painted white. Green, green eyes were made even greener by jade eyeshadow. Full, kissable lips were painted red.
The delighted crowd cheered as the music started up again. Very slowly, the dancer began to dance to the soft melody. He couldn't move very much, wrapped in such a form fitting kimono, but Ron wasn't worried. He, like all the other regulars, knew what was coming next. And he wasn't disappointed. Without warning, the music suddenly exploded in dark, sultry beat. The dancer threw aside his parasol and whipped open his kimono, sending the already excited crowd into a frenzy.
Under all the emerald silk was a second kimono, but one much different then the first. Cut off at the knee and completely sheer, this one was a paler sea foam green, form fitting without being constricting, and did nothing to hide the fact that the dancer was completely naked underneath. Naked, that is, except for the flowers. Big, white lilies painted all over his body, giving the illusion of decency without actually covering anything.
Completely indifferent to the wolf-whistles and cat-calls, the vision on the stage began to move his body to the increasingly fast beat. He twisted and turned, jerking his hips. The music got quicker and faster, but the young man had no problem keeping up. His sheer kimono clung to his form as he began to sweat, making his makeup run and his painted flowers blur.
Ron couldn't look away. His hand moved, practically of it's own accord, to unfasten his trousers. It plunged inside, stroking his throbbing cock in time with the beat.
The dancer was now pulling his hair sticks free. Long, loose braids tumbled down his back as the style came undone. One he trailed up in down his chest, the other he brought to his painted lips.
Ron's eyes clenched shut of their own violation as he climaxed hard, splattering hot cream all over himself. The table rattled, and they flew open once again. The dancer had jumped onto it. This close, Ron could just make out the lightning bolt scar on the dancers forehead as painted hands gripped his shirt and pulled him out of his seat, sending his long forgotten drink flying. Ron didn't fight him as he was pushed onto his back, his trousers yanked down about his knees. He distantly heard the loud whoops and shouts of the crowd, but paid them no mind as the dancer crawled on top of him, and his newly re-hardened cock was taken up the tightest, hottest arse in existence. He gripped the dancers hips and began to quickly thrust in time with the music. He didn't last long, but that was just fine. As he brought them to climax, he was only distantly aware of the dancer climbing off him.
Pulling his trousers back up, he slid back into his seat, grinning at the look the dancer sent his way before continuing with his routine, now complete with a layer of hot seed clinging to his kimono. That had just been for the benefit of the crowd. The encore would be back in his private dressing room, and it would be meant only for an audience of one.
Ron.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><
Ron was grinning like a fool as he stepped out into the early morning sunlight. Anybody who looked at him could easily tell what he had been doing, what with his rumpled clothing and the smeared make-up covering his exposed skin, but such was a common sight in Desire Alley, and he blended in with the sleepy crowd easily.
Yes, Harry could run away from the world all he wanted, bu he couldn't run away from Ron. Ron would find him, no matter where he hid.
As he made his way toward the entrance, he caught sight of a familiar flash of red hair and grinned as he saw his brother Bill, looking just as rumpled has he did, exit one of the clubs. As far as Ron knew, that particular club was called The Gypsy Caravan, and if memory served him correctly, a certain dark potions master was their main attraction.
He made a mental note to tease Bill about it later.
<>Fin<>