new fic: Harry/Ron | "Quotidian Bliss" | NC-17
I got totally inspired after visiting wolfiekins and koshweasley last weekend. The last joint writing effort we did to cleanse our writerly palates from the last of our drabbles (unpublished: Dudley/Remus, augh) was to each put in our OTP into the now-famous Rubbermaid container. Wolfie had Harry/Ron, Kosh had Fred/George, and I had Ron/Draco. Kosh picked his own, Wolfie picked mine (squee!) and I picked his. We all sat for a couple of hours, actually, writing and talking until I had to pack up and leave. I finished my story last night, and here it is. It's fiction, of course, but many of the small detailed elements are reflective of their real lives. Mostly I hoped to capture the understated but heartwarmingly obvious affection and devotion that Wolfie and Kosh have for each other. They are so inspiring. This is for you two, luvs.
Given the subject heading, for those of you on my flist who don't read my HP slash, you'll want to skip this. Also, my apologies to those who are also H/R shippers as I'll be cross-posting somewhat.
Title: Quotidian Bliss
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Genre: rather PWP-ish; vignette
Wordcount: 2300
Summary: Ron and Harry enjoy a far-too-infrequent lazy Sunday morning.
A/N: 'Aurors In Love' is totally Wolfie's creation in a not-yet-published fic. Thanks for letting me borrow them!
Ron slowly opened his eyes, rubbing at them as he let out a big yawn. He stretched, rolling over in anticipation of scootching next to Harry's warm body.
Harry wasn't there.
Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he got up onto his elbow. Harry didn't usually get up before he did, especially on a lazy Sunday like today. Ron hoped that he hadn't gone out running or something barmy like that; for some reason, once they'd both turned thirty-six Harry had decided he was going to seed and created an exercise regimen Ron assured him he didn't need to follow.
"Harry?" he called into the corridor, sulking for a moment when he didn't hear a response. With a disappointed grunt, he sat up and adjusted his pyjamas before getting out of bed. He went to the loo and clomped downstairs, muttering under his breath about over-achieving ex-Quidditch players and the waste of a perfectly good morning of lying about half-dressed.
"What was that?" Harry asked with a smirk, sitting at their dining room table with a steaming cup of tea in his hands.
Ron walked over to Harry and leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. It was quick, but sweet as Harry insisted on putting two full teaspoons of sugar in each cup.
"I thought maybe you'd gone out," Ron grumbled as he went to the beer stein that held their wands. He waved his wand at the range, putting on their kettle and scooping out some instant coffee into a mug.
"No," Harry said bemusedly, getting up from the table and walking over to Ron. He stood behind him, wrapping his arms around Ron's middle, placing his bony jaw on Ron's shoulder. "Just woke up earlier than usual, and you were still snoring a bit. Was there something you wanted to do this morning?"
Ron quirked a smile, placing one of his hands on top of Harry's and clasping the slim fingers. "Well, not exactly. It's been ages since we've had an entire weekend to do nothing. Or next to nothing," he said, unsure whether or not Harry might be keen to lie around and watch one of their favourite films. He sometimes felt like a romantic git, preferring nothing in the world to have Harry sprawled with his head in Ron's lap or Ron spooning behind him, breathing in Harry's unique musky ripe scent that was simply home.
"You're right," Harry said next to Ron's ear as the kettle began to boil. "Quite the luxury, eh?"
Ron nodded and Harry released him while Ron fixed his coffee. "I reckon." He turned around, raising his mug to his lips and blowing across the black liquid.
Harry tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he drained the last of his tea. After placing the cup on the counter, he scooted over in front of Ron, leaning into him and enfolding Ron's waist again. "Reckon I have an idea of what you might like to do," he said, shifting his hips just enough to be suggestive.
"Haven't even had my coffee yet," Ron insisted, though he was grateful that he was sometimes as obviously transparent to his partner as he apparently was this morning.
"That's never stopped you from a pre-breakfast shag before."
"Who said I want to shag?" Ron said indignantly, insinuating a hand behind Harry's back to knead at the slight swell of the top of his arse. "Maybe I want you to make us one of your fabulous breakfasts and then we can take a nap."
"Merlin!" Harry said, pressing into Ron with more intent. "You're really taking this time off seriously. You've not even been awake fifteen minutes and you're already talking about going back to bed."
Ron shrugged, having some more of his coffee and savouring the slow but familiar heat of arousal resolutely settle in his groin. They'd been together for several years, but there was still something about his lover that held sway over his passions and body, with rare exception. They had fights, of course; moving beyond best mates to lovers and bondmates didn't mean that there weren't things that drove Ron around the bend, and Harry could sulk and brood like no-one else Ron knew. At those points, sex was the last thing on his mind, but on this cozy morning, with nothing but time and an obviously willing Harry grinding languorously against him, well, the concept certainly had its appeal.
"Sleep is good for you," Ron said teasingly, putting his mug down on the counter so he had two hands to pull Harry toward him. "But you're good for me too." He leaned down to kiss Harry, their tongues sliding together in a well-practiced but still erotic dance.
"Harry? Harry!" Hermione's voice piped from the fireplace in the next room.
"Oh bollocks." Harry broke from their kiss with a moan, rubbing his forehead against Ron's cheek.
"I think Hermione must have some kind of tracking charm that goes off when we're about to get in each other's trousers."
"We've managed so far," Harry said with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Besides, we're both in bathrobes. I'll go see what Ms. Granger-Thomas wants. Why don't you go put in 'Aurors in Love?'"
Ron went slack-jawed. "That's ancient! I was really just thinking of something on the telly. Quidditch, or cricket. Or that show about people's gardens." He pinched Harry's nipple through the fabric as Harry turned to go, earning a stinging swat on his abdomen for his efforts.
"And I'd like ancient porn," Harry said, his voice brokering no refusal.
"Fine, fine," Ron mumbled.
As Harry left the room, Ron poured a dash more coffee into his mug and found some Irish Cream to liven it up before rummaging through their video collection. Thankfully there weren't that many of the nearly-identical black boxes to rifle through while Harry kept his conversation with Hermione to a blessedly brief interlude. Ron put the tape in and widened the sinfully comfortable couch, placing most of the pillows under his head and arm, leaving plenty of space for Harry. He scooped up a blanket for good measure, draping it over himself. This was really Harry's idea, though Ron was certainly not going to turn down the opportunity for a leisurely, joint wank. Truthfully, he'd expected to still be in their bed. If Harry'd not woken up early, Ron would probably still be asleep. They'd both be in dreamland, curled up together. The more Ron thought about it, the more he sank into his bower of pillows.
"Oi! No sleeping!" Harry said with a wicked smile, a new cup of tea cradled in his hands. "Scoot over so I have room."
Ron unfurled his legs, making a haven for Harry in front of him. Harry took a sip of tea before putting the cup on the floor and taking off his robe, displaying his bright orange Chudley Cannons boxers that Ron had bought for him a year ago Christmas. He lay down, his back to Ron's chest, drawing Ron's hand down to his stomach as the first vignette for the randy Aurors began to flicker on the screen. They watched in silence, Ron idly massaging Harry's trail of hair at his navel, eventually moving his fingers past the elastic to hold Harry's tumescent cock. The Aurors moved on from a two-person frisky office tryst to Ron's favourite scene, a post-Quidditch match near-orgy in the showers. Being Wizarding porn, while the scenarios were the same, their actual activities varied each time. He pulled his hand out of Harry's pants to play with Harry's sensitive nipples. Ron paid them more mind now that they were pierced, fondling the thin metal bars. Harry groaned his approval, shifting to pull off his boxers before pressing back against Ron's burgeoning erection.
"Something on your mind?" Ron said in a low voice, gnawing lightly on Harry's neck. He smoothed his hand over the fine black hair on Harry's thigh until his fingers came to rest at the base of Harry's stiffening cock.
"Maybe," Harry said provocatively, twisting his head around to snag an awkward, sloppy kiss from Ron. He turned back toward the telly screen where a well-endowed wizard was enjoying an apparently spectacular blowjob in the shower, and two other buff blokes were undressing and fondling a third. It was fantasy, of course, though Ron would've been lying to himself if he'd not thought about being in the middle of a sweaty Quidditch player sandwich. Who wouldn't want that, at least once?
Harry was making impatient noises, pressing his hips back against Ron's increasingly hard cock until Ron had to shift to get comfortable. Ron loved that they knew each other so well. He could simply show Harry how much he meant to him, rather than getting tripped up in bothersome discussions about it. As he began pulling up and down on Harry's shaft, its familiar, steely length reassuring and warm in his palm, Ron said the three words that no longer gave him any pause to speak aloud.
"Love you, Harry."
"Mmmmmmm," Harry hummed, dropping an arm behind him to squeeze gently on Ron's arsecheek. "You too."
Within moments the Aurors and their sexual ablutions were disregarded in favour of Ron sheathing himself deeply in Harry's tight heat, grateful as ever in Harry's wandless magic skills. Harry had clambered to his hands and knees and held onto the side of the couch as Ron thrust into him. He barely registered the sound of frozen rain tapping onto their roof, focusing instead on the squelching sounds as he claimed Harry, again and again. With each push into Harry's willing body, Ron angled to bring Harry the most pleasure he could. Every rock of his hip, every slap of warm skin against skin, Ron intended as nonverbal expressions of how much he desired Harry, needed him, cherished and sometimes fucking worshipped him. He listened to Harry's increasing moans and pants and 'gods, Ron'-infused invectives, leaning over him at last to brace himself. He hooked his ring and pinky fingers between Harry's pointer and middle, a strangely intimate gesture amidst the all-out sex, before bringing a hand around to Harry's neglected cock.
Harry pumped forcefully into Ron's hand while Ron sped up his thrusts. Despite their years together, he didn't often talk much during their lovemaking; he knew that Harry understood that Ron's grunts and wordless cries were evidence of his pleasure.
"Gonna come, Ron, fuck!" Harry yelled, bucking back and squeezing Ron's fingers on the arm of the couch.
Harry's muscles clenched tightly around Ron, who concentrated on slowing his pistoning hand as the warm fluid cascaded over his fingers. Ron's own release coiled in him like the spinning, tight base of a typhoon. He raised his fingers to his mouth, licking at the vinegary ejaculate before placing his hand back on to the armrest. This was a favourite position of Ron's, even though he couldn't see his beloved's face when he came. It seemed primal and possessive and protective, all at once; Ron sheltered Harry from the world while Harry opened himself up to Ron as he'd done for no other.
"So good, Ron," Harry sighed, hanging his head and tightening his channel around Ron's cock. "Want to feel you lose control, want you to come so hard."
Ron could only manage a guttural assent followed by a trail of open-mouthed kisses up Harry's knobbly spine. He concentrated on how lucky he was to be able to love Harry like this, that neither he nor Harry had died, that miraculously Harry's passion for him had matched Ron's own. Physically, there was nothing like being joined to Harry, the velvet constricting heat that Ron plundered, pulling out and slamming back quickly. Harry egged him on until the shimmering edge of Ron's release shattered, bursting out of Ron as he cried out raggedly.
The hammering tattoo of Ron's heart slowed as he came to himself, still buried in Harry's body. Though he couldn't see it, he knew that Harry was smiling to himself. "You're amazing," Ron said reverently, nosing into Harry's unkempt nest of bedhead hair. "Amazing, amazing, amazing."
Just then, Harry's stomach rumbled.
"Amazing and hungry," Harry said, shaking his hips a bit to encourage Ron to uncouple them.
"So are you going to-" Ron stopped, startled as he glanced at the telly screen. Many of the Aurors in the movie were still going at their various prurient acts, but a few were applauding, apparently having watched he and Harry. "Oi!" Ron yelled. "That was private!"
"They can't hear you," Harry said affectionately, easing his body away from Ron's and wandlessly casting a couple of cleansing charms. "Mind if I have a quick lie-down before I make breakfast?"
Ron shook his head and watched as Harry bedded down, his back to the television and his facial expression one of sated bliss. Harry looked expectantly at Ron, patting the empty space in front of him. He was rarely like this, bordering on clingy, and Ron felt it was a proffered gift.
This is some kind of borrowed heaven, Ron thought. He lowered down and stretched out, exchanging a few light kisses with Harry as they situated themselves against each other. Ultimately they settled so that Harry was draped across him and Ron could still watch the telly. He Accio'ed his wand from the kitchen and with a handwave goodbye to the still occupied Aurors, waved his wand at the modified Muggle contraption until he found the Ballycastle/Montrose match.
Putting one hand behind his head and the other set to drawing imaginative designs on Harry's back, Ron thanked any and all forces in the universe that had brought him to this place of such simple joy.
"Love you," he said quietly, and Harry mumbled a wordless affirmative reply into Ron's ribs.
Given the subject heading, for those of you on my flist who don't read my HP slash, you'll want to skip this. Also, my apologies to those who are also H/R shippers as I'll be cross-posting somewhat.
Title: Quotidian Bliss
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Genre: rather PWP-ish; vignette
Wordcount: 2300
Summary: Ron and Harry enjoy a far-too-infrequent lazy Sunday morning.
A/N: 'Aurors In Love' is totally Wolfie's creation in a not-yet-published fic. Thanks for letting me borrow them!
Ron slowly opened his eyes, rubbing at them as he let out a big yawn. He stretched, rolling over in anticipation of scootching next to Harry's warm body.
Harry wasn't there.
Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he got up onto his elbow. Harry didn't usually get up before he did, especially on a lazy Sunday like today. Ron hoped that he hadn't gone out running or something barmy like that; for some reason, once they'd both turned thirty-six Harry had decided he was going to seed and created an exercise regimen Ron assured him he didn't need to follow.
"Harry?" he called into the corridor, sulking for a moment when he didn't hear a response. With a disappointed grunt, he sat up and adjusted his pyjamas before getting out of bed. He went to the loo and clomped downstairs, muttering under his breath about over-achieving ex-Quidditch players and the waste of a perfectly good morning of lying about half-dressed.
"What was that?" Harry asked with a smirk, sitting at their dining room table with a steaming cup of tea in his hands.
Ron walked over to Harry and leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. It was quick, but sweet as Harry insisted on putting two full teaspoons of sugar in each cup.
"I thought maybe you'd gone out," Ron grumbled as he went to the beer stein that held their wands. He waved his wand at the range, putting on their kettle and scooping out some instant coffee into a mug.
"No," Harry said bemusedly, getting up from the table and walking over to Ron. He stood behind him, wrapping his arms around Ron's middle, placing his bony jaw on Ron's shoulder. "Just woke up earlier than usual, and you were still snoring a bit. Was there something you wanted to do this morning?"
Ron quirked a smile, placing one of his hands on top of Harry's and clasping the slim fingers. "Well, not exactly. It's been ages since we've had an entire weekend to do nothing. Or next to nothing," he said, unsure whether or not Harry might be keen to lie around and watch one of their favourite films. He sometimes felt like a romantic git, preferring nothing in the world to have Harry sprawled with his head in Ron's lap or Ron spooning behind him, breathing in Harry's unique musky ripe scent that was simply home.
"You're right," Harry said next to Ron's ear as the kettle began to boil. "Quite the luxury, eh?"
Ron nodded and Harry released him while Ron fixed his coffee. "I reckon." He turned around, raising his mug to his lips and blowing across the black liquid.
Harry tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he drained the last of his tea. After placing the cup on the counter, he scooted over in front of Ron, leaning into him and enfolding Ron's waist again. "Reckon I have an idea of what you might like to do," he said, shifting his hips just enough to be suggestive.
"Haven't even had my coffee yet," Ron insisted, though he was grateful that he was sometimes as obviously transparent to his partner as he apparently was this morning.
"That's never stopped you from a pre-breakfast shag before."
"Who said I want to shag?" Ron said indignantly, insinuating a hand behind Harry's back to knead at the slight swell of the top of his arse. "Maybe I want you to make us one of your fabulous breakfasts and then we can take a nap."
"Merlin!" Harry said, pressing into Ron with more intent. "You're really taking this time off seriously. You've not even been awake fifteen minutes and you're already talking about going back to bed."
Ron shrugged, having some more of his coffee and savouring the slow but familiar heat of arousal resolutely settle in his groin. They'd been together for several years, but there was still something about his lover that held sway over his passions and body, with rare exception. They had fights, of course; moving beyond best mates to lovers and bondmates didn't mean that there weren't things that drove Ron around the bend, and Harry could sulk and brood like no-one else Ron knew. At those points, sex was the last thing on his mind, but on this cozy morning, with nothing but time and an obviously willing Harry grinding languorously against him, well, the concept certainly had its appeal.
"Sleep is good for you," Ron said teasingly, putting his mug down on the counter so he had two hands to pull Harry toward him. "But you're good for me too." He leaned down to kiss Harry, their tongues sliding together in a well-practiced but still erotic dance.
"Harry? Harry!" Hermione's voice piped from the fireplace in the next room.
"Oh bollocks." Harry broke from their kiss with a moan, rubbing his forehead against Ron's cheek.
"I think Hermione must have some kind of tracking charm that goes off when we're about to get in each other's trousers."
"We've managed so far," Harry said with a quick kiss on the cheek. "Besides, we're both in bathrobes. I'll go see what Ms. Granger-Thomas wants. Why don't you go put in 'Aurors in Love?'"
Ron went slack-jawed. "That's ancient! I was really just thinking of something on the telly. Quidditch, or cricket. Or that show about people's gardens." He pinched Harry's nipple through the fabric as Harry turned to go, earning a stinging swat on his abdomen for his efforts.
"And I'd like ancient porn," Harry said, his voice brokering no refusal.
"Fine, fine," Ron mumbled.
As Harry left the room, Ron poured a dash more coffee into his mug and found some Irish Cream to liven it up before rummaging through their video collection. Thankfully there weren't that many of the nearly-identical black boxes to rifle through while Harry kept his conversation with Hermione to a blessedly brief interlude. Ron put the tape in and widened the sinfully comfortable couch, placing most of the pillows under his head and arm, leaving plenty of space for Harry. He scooped up a blanket for good measure, draping it over himself. This was really Harry's idea, though Ron was certainly not going to turn down the opportunity for a leisurely, joint wank. Truthfully, he'd expected to still be in their bed. If Harry'd not woken up early, Ron would probably still be asleep. They'd both be in dreamland, curled up together. The more Ron thought about it, the more he sank into his bower of pillows.
"Oi! No sleeping!" Harry said with a wicked smile, a new cup of tea cradled in his hands. "Scoot over so I have room."
Ron unfurled his legs, making a haven for Harry in front of him. Harry took a sip of tea before putting the cup on the floor and taking off his robe, displaying his bright orange Chudley Cannons boxers that Ron had bought for him a year ago Christmas. He lay down, his back to Ron's chest, drawing Ron's hand down to his stomach as the first vignette for the randy Aurors began to flicker on the screen. They watched in silence, Ron idly massaging Harry's trail of hair at his navel, eventually moving his fingers past the elastic to hold Harry's tumescent cock. The Aurors moved on from a two-person frisky office tryst to Ron's favourite scene, a post-Quidditch match near-orgy in the showers. Being Wizarding porn, while the scenarios were the same, their actual activities varied each time. He pulled his hand out of Harry's pants to play with Harry's sensitive nipples. Ron paid them more mind now that they were pierced, fondling the thin metal bars. Harry groaned his approval, shifting to pull off his boxers before pressing back against Ron's burgeoning erection.
"Something on your mind?" Ron said in a low voice, gnawing lightly on Harry's neck. He smoothed his hand over the fine black hair on Harry's thigh until his fingers came to rest at the base of Harry's stiffening cock.
"Maybe," Harry said provocatively, twisting his head around to snag an awkward, sloppy kiss from Ron. He turned back toward the telly screen where a well-endowed wizard was enjoying an apparently spectacular blowjob in the shower, and two other buff blokes were undressing and fondling a third. It was fantasy, of course, though Ron would've been lying to himself if he'd not thought about being in the middle of a sweaty Quidditch player sandwich. Who wouldn't want that, at least once?
Harry was making impatient noises, pressing his hips back against Ron's increasingly hard cock until Ron had to shift to get comfortable. Ron loved that they knew each other so well. He could simply show Harry how much he meant to him, rather than getting tripped up in bothersome discussions about it. As he began pulling up and down on Harry's shaft, its familiar, steely length reassuring and warm in his palm, Ron said the three words that no longer gave him any pause to speak aloud.
"Love you, Harry."
"Mmmmmmm," Harry hummed, dropping an arm behind him to squeeze gently on Ron's arsecheek. "You too."
Within moments the Aurors and their sexual ablutions were disregarded in favour of Ron sheathing himself deeply in Harry's tight heat, grateful as ever in Harry's wandless magic skills. Harry had clambered to his hands and knees and held onto the side of the couch as Ron thrust into him. He barely registered the sound of frozen rain tapping onto their roof, focusing instead on the squelching sounds as he claimed Harry, again and again. With each push into Harry's willing body, Ron angled to bring Harry the most pleasure he could. Every rock of his hip, every slap of warm skin against skin, Ron intended as nonverbal expressions of how much he desired Harry, needed him, cherished and sometimes fucking worshipped him. He listened to Harry's increasing moans and pants and 'gods, Ron'-infused invectives, leaning over him at last to brace himself. He hooked his ring and pinky fingers between Harry's pointer and middle, a strangely intimate gesture amidst the all-out sex, before bringing a hand around to Harry's neglected cock.
Harry pumped forcefully into Ron's hand while Ron sped up his thrusts. Despite their years together, he didn't often talk much during their lovemaking; he knew that Harry understood that Ron's grunts and wordless cries were evidence of his pleasure.
"Gonna come, Ron, fuck!" Harry yelled, bucking back and squeezing Ron's fingers on the arm of the couch.
Harry's muscles clenched tightly around Ron, who concentrated on slowing his pistoning hand as the warm fluid cascaded over his fingers. Ron's own release coiled in him like the spinning, tight base of a typhoon. He raised his fingers to his mouth, licking at the vinegary ejaculate before placing his hand back on to the armrest. This was a favourite position of Ron's, even though he couldn't see his beloved's face when he came. It seemed primal and possessive and protective, all at once; Ron sheltered Harry from the world while Harry opened himself up to Ron as he'd done for no other.
"So good, Ron," Harry sighed, hanging his head and tightening his channel around Ron's cock. "Want to feel you lose control, want you to come so hard."
Ron could only manage a guttural assent followed by a trail of open-mouthed kisses up Harry's knobbly spine. He concentrated on how lucky he was to be able to love Harry like this, that neither he nor Harry had died, that miraculously Harry's passion for him had matched Ron's own. Physically, there was nothing like being joined to Harry, the velvet constricting heat that Ron plundered, pulling out and slamming back quickly. Harry egged him on until the shimmering edge of Ron's release shattered, bursting out of Ron as he cried out raggedly.
The hammering tattoo of Ron's heart slowed as he came to himself, still buried in Harry's body. Though he couldn't see it, he knew that Harry was smiling to himself. "You're amazing," Ron said reverently, nosing into Harry's unkempt nest of bedhead hair. "Amazing, amazing, amazing."
Just then, Harry's stomach rumbled.
"Amazing and hungry," Harry said, shaking his hips a bit to encourage Ron to uncouple them.
"So are you going to-" Ron stopped, startled as he glanced at the telly screen. Many of the Aurors in the movie were still going at their various prurient acts, but a few were applauding, apparently having watched he and Harry. "Oi!" Ron yelled. "That was private!"
"They can't hear you," Harry said affectionately, easing his body away from Ron's and wandlessly casting a couple of cleansing charms. "Mind if I have a quick lie-down before I make breakfast?"
Ron shook his head and watched as Harry bedded down, his back to the television and his facial expression one of sated bliss. Harry looked expectantly at Ron, patting the empty space in front of him. He was rarely like this, bordering on clingy, and Ron felt it was a proffered gift.
This is some kind of borrowed heaven, Ron thought. He lowered down and stretched out, exchanging a few light kisses with Harry as they situated themselves against each other. Ultimately they settled so that Harry was draped across him and Ron could still watch the telly. He Accio'ed his wand from the kitchen and with a handwave goodbye to the still occupied Aurors, waved his wand at the modified Muggle contraption until he found the Ballycastle/Montrose match.
Putting one hand behind his head and the other set to drawing imaginative designs on Harry's back, Ron thanked any and all forces in the universe that had brought him to this place of such simple joy.
"Love you," he said quietly, and Harry mumbled a wordless affirmative reply into Ron's ribs.