24. DISCOMPOSURE (R) BY IAMSHADOW
Title: Discomposure
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,001 + NEW!! digital painting by kath_ballantyne
Rating: R
Warnings: One discreet wank. Sleazy crockery. Extreme embarrassment.
Summary: The morning after Consummation.
A/N: A little smut, a little humour, a whole lot of humiliation. Very like Morning, but with so many differences. Read it, and you'll see what I mean.
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
I swim up through the layers of sleep to the surface of awareness, alertness. The sounds of birds and the odd clatter from downstairs are filtering into the room along with weak, early morning sunlight. And there’s a long, warm somebody snuggled up to my back with their arm curled over my body and their breath tickling the back of my neck with every exhalation. Ron.
click for larger image
There’s the initial jolt of panic. My muscles tense, my heart taps a little faster and my breaths come short and shallow…but it passes almost as quickly as it came. I let out a deep sigh, releasing the last of the anxiety. Ron makes a small contented sound and grips me a little tighter…and I’m fine.
I slept with him. I had sex with him. And I’m okay.
My half-hard cock gives a feeble twitch at the thought of sex, but I ignore it. As wonderful as the night before was, I need time to digest the new developments in our relationship before trying for a repeat performance.
Oh God…a repeat performance…
Another little pulse. It probably doesn’t help that I’m wrapped in an unconscious, very naked Ron Weasley, whose own morning glory is nudging my lower back, giving my brain all kinds of hints as to what I could be doing to it. What he could be doing to me.
I swallow hard.
Mentally admonishing myself very firmly, I wriggle free from Ron (who rolls onto his belly and begins to snore), shrug on my pyjamas and escape to the bathroom to relieve some tension. It doesn’t take long. Last night gave me enough masturbatory images to last a lifetime. It’s the memory of Ron cupping me, his fingertips just brushing my balls, that sends me over the edge.
The mirror tuts, disapprovingly. "You'll go blind, you know."
"Shut up," I mumble, flushing, as I tuck my spent cock back into my pyjama pants and turn on the tap to wash my hands.
Freshened up and slightly more at ease, I wander down to the kitchen, only to come to a freezing halt just outside the doorway.
Shit.
I’d forgotten our little oversight last night up until now. I’m just wondering whether I can hide upstairs forever when I hear Mrs Weasley call out, “Kettle’s on, Harry!”
Fuck!
No escape. No reprieve. No choice but to step through that doorway into the kitchen and take my chances.
I had been hoping against all hope that this morning the kitchen would be empty. Even just Mrs Weasley, as on many mornings it was, would have been preferable. No such luck. Mr Weasley is reading the Daily Prophet while taking large mouthfuls of tea from a lurid mug that flashes from Who needs hair with a body like this? to Hey baby, want to come upstairs and see my spark plugs? Mrs Weasley is frying eggs on the stove and stirring something in a large pot. And just to make things infinitely worse, George has chosen today to pop in for breakfast and is ploughing into a plate of sausages and bacon with Weasley gusto.
Brilliant. Just fantastic.
The yellow tea service is out and waiting for me on the countertop. I run the gauntlet, quickly mumbling ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, and snatch up the tea caddy as though it’s a Portkey ready to leave.
At first I think they’ve forgotten me. It’s true, Mrs Weasley doesn’t quite make eye contact with me when she passes me the kettle and I think she blushes a bit when I say thank you, but I try to brush it off as a coincidence. She’s busy making breakfast, after all, and maybe she’s just hot from standing over the frying pan.
But then…
“Sleep well last night, Harry?” Mr Weasley asks, cheerily.
Mrs Weasley drops a dish with a clatter.
Is he winding me up? my frantic brain gibbers. Heat floods my face, and I’m sure it’s glowing like the sun. I eventually gabble something vaguely affirmative.
“Excellent,” he says, grinning.
He does seem to have a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips that I’ve seen before on the twins when they were up to no good. And, speaking of the twins, George has been distracted from his meal and is glancing back and forth from myself to his Dad with a look of dawning comprehension.
I finish loading up the tray hastily and start to make my way across the kitchen.
“So,” George drawls, “Does Ronniekins get his tea in bed every morning? Or just the mornings after you -”
He breaks off with a yelp as a ladle whaps him on the back of the head. I disappear as quickly up the stairs as is possible with a fully laden tea tray.
Ron is semi-conscious when I sidle into the bedroom and set down the tray.
“Mmmm…morning…” he murmurs, as I sit next to him. I’m grateful that he doesn’t hug me. He just smiles, reaches across and takes my hand the way he’s done every time I’ve woken him over the last month. It’s familiar and comforting, and almost enough to make me forget that I want to die of embarrassment.
“Hey? Waz wrong?” Ron slurs, his brow creasing as he looks up at my crestfallen face.
“They…they know. They heard. Last night,” I mumble.
Ron blinks blankly for a moment then his face becomes a picture of woe. “Oh, no…Mum?”
I nod.
“Not Dad too?”
“I think he would have made jokes about it if your mum hadn’t been there,” I admit miserably.
He looks chagrined, then suddenly terrified. He studies my face intently, with desperation. “No. Not today. Please…Don’t tell me George was down there too?”
“He did make jokes about it.”
Ron buries his face in his pillow and yells for a while. I pour out the tea. I’ll need it to bolster my confidence for the not too distant future, when we have to walk downstairs for breakfast.
<- 23. Consummation c@r 25. Vocabulary ->
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,001 + NEW!! digital painting by kath_ballantyne
Rating: R
Warnings: One discreet wank. Sleazy crockery. Extreme embarrassment.
Summary: The morning after Consummation.
A/N: A little smut, a little humour, a whole lot of humiliation. Very like Morning, but with so many differences. Read it, and you'll see what I mean.
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
I swim up through the layers of sleep to the surface of awareness, alertness. The sounds of birds and the odd clatter from downstairs are filtering into the room along with weak, early morning sunlight. And there’s a long, warm somebody snuggled up to my back with their arm curled over my body and their breath tickling the back of my neck with every exhalation. Ron.
click for larger image
There’s the initial jolt of panic. My muscles tense, my heart taps a little faster and my breaths come short and shallow…but it passes almost as quickly as it came. I let out a deep sigh, releasing the last of the anxiety. Ron makes a small contented sound and grips me a little tighter…and I’m fine.
I slept with him. I had sex with him. And I’m okay.
My half-hard cock gives a feeble twitch at the thought of sex, but I ignore it. As wonderful as the night before was, I need time to digest the new developments in our relationship before trying for a repeat performance.
Oh God…a repeat performance…
Another little pulse. It probably doesn’t help that I’m wrapped in an unconscious, very naked Ron Weasley, whose own morning glory is nudging my lower back, giving my brain all kinds of hints as to what I could be doing to it. What he could be doing to me.
I swallow hard.
Mentally admonishing myself very firmly, I wriggle free from Ron (who rolls onto his belly and begins to snore), shrug on my pyjamas and escape to the bathroom to relieve some tension. It doesn’t take long. Last night gave me enough masturbatory images to last a lifetime. It’s the memory of Ron cupping me, his fingertips just brushing my balls, that sends me over the edge.
The mirror tuts, disapprovingly. "You'll go blind, you know."
"Shut up," I mumble, flushing, as I tuck my spent cock back into my pyjama pants and turn on the tap to wash my hands.
Freshened up and slightly more at ease, I wander down to the kitchen, only to come to a freezing halt just outside the doorway.
Shit.
I’d forgotten our little oversight last night up until now. I’m just wondering whether I can hide upstairs forever when I hear Mrs Weasley call out, “Kettle’s on, Harry!”
Fuck!
No escape. No reprieve. No choice but to step through that doorway into the kitchen and take my chances.
I had been hoping against all hope that this morning the kitchen would be empty. Even just Mrs Weasley, as on many mornings it was, would have been preferable. No such luck. Mr Weasley is reading the Daily Prophet while taking large mouthfuls of tea from a lurid mug that flashes from Who needs hair with a body like this? to Hey baby, want to come upstairs and see my spark plugs? Mrs Weasley is frying eggs on the stove and stirring something in a large pot. And just to make things infinitely worse, George has chosen today to pop in for breakfast and is ploughing into a plate of sausages and bacon with Weasley gusto.
Brilliant. Just fantastic.
The yellow tea service is out and waiting for me on the countertop. I run the gauntlet, quickly mumbling ‘hello’ and ‘good morning’, and snatch up the tea caddy as though it’s a Portkey ready to leave.
At first I think they’ve forgotten me. It’s true, Mrs Weasley doesn’t quite make eye contact with me when she passes me the kettle and I think she blushes a bit when I say thank you, but I try to brush it off as a coincidence. She’s busy making breakfast, after all, and maybe she’s just hot from standing over the frying pan.
But then…
“Sleep well last night, Harry?” Mr Weasley asks, cheerily.
Mrs Weasley drops a dish with a clatter.
Is he winding me up? my frantic brain gibbers. Heat floods my face, and I’m sure it’s glowing like the sun. I eventually gabble something vaguely affirmative.
“Excellent,” he says, grinning.
He does seem to have a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips that I’ve seen before on the twins when they were up to no good. And, speaking of the twins, George has been distracted from his meal and is glancing back and forth from myself to his Dad with a look of dawning comprehension.
I finish loading up the tray hastily and start to make my way across the kitchen.
“So,” George drawls, “Does Ronniekins get his tea in bed every morning? Or just the mornings after you -”
He breaks off with a yelp as a ladle whaps him on the back of the head. I disappear as quickly up the stairs as is possible with a fully laden tea tray.
Ron is semi-conscious when I sidle into the bedroom and set down the tray.
“Mmmm…morning…” he murmurs, as I sit next to him. I’m grateful that he doesn’t hug me. He just smiles, reaches across and takes my hand the way he’s done every time I’ve woken him over the last month. It’s familiar and comforting, and almost enough to make me forget that I want to die of embarrassment.
“Hey? Waz wrong?” Ron slurs, his brow creasing as he looks up at my crestfallen face.
“They…they know. They heard. Last night,” I mumble.
Ron blinks blankly for a moment then his face becomes a picture of woe. “Oh, no…Mum?”
I nod.
“Not Dad too?”
“I think he would have made jokes about it if your mum hadn’t been there,” I admit miserably.
He looks chagrined, then suddenly terrified. He studies my face intently, with desperation. “No. Not today. Please…Don’t tell me George was down there too?”
“He did make jokes about it.”
Ron buries his face in his pillow and yells for a while. I pour out the tea. I’ll need it to bolster my confidence for the not too distant future, when we have to walk downstairs for breakfast.
<- 23. Consummation c@r 25. Vocabulary ->