Chapter Text
“We’re going to be late.”
“It’s not my fault you keep wiggling.”
“But Ron–”
“Every time you move, the time restarts,” Ron says in a sing-song voice.
Harry groans but takes a deep breath and focuses on staying still.
But it's hard, with Ron’s cock buried in his arse. His thighs shake slightly from bracketing Ron’s hips as they sit on the couch, facing away from each other.
The stretch burns in a way that lights Harry’s nerves on fire. He can feel the mixture of lube and precum from Ron leaking out of him, leaving a puddle on Ron’s lap, probably being absorbed by Harry’s pleated Gryffindor skirt.
It’s the only thing he’s wearing, and Ron is in heaven. He’s lifted the skirt just enough to see his cock sunk between Harry’s flushed arsecheeks, leaking with how much he wants to move. But he loves sitting there, living in Harry’s warmth. Each time they sit like this, he tries to go a little longer. He plans to be able to sit with his cock in Harry for hours, eventually.
Ron nudges Harry to lean his back against his naked chest. He sucks softly on Harry’s neck while his hands find his nipples to give them a tweak.
Harry’s hips buck, and a whimper escapes his lips.
“Moved again.”
“That’s not fair. I was being good,” Harry whines so wantonly it makes Ron salivate.
“You’re always good, love,” Ron agrees. “So good taking my cock, keeping me safe and warm.”
The praise makes Harry mewl in appreciation. He flicks Harry’s nipple back and forth before rubbing his finger around it with a soft, whisper touch. Harry does his best not to roll his hips.
Ron takes this as a sign to trail his hand down Harry’s happy trail and take his cock in his hand. He plays with the tip, rubbing pre-cum all over his foreskin as he pulls it back. Harry vibrates with need but still doesn’t move.
“So gorgeous,” Ron breathes in Harry’s ear, testing him. Harry only whimpers. “I can't believe you’re mine.”
Ron’s eyes glance at the clock across the room, and he smirks. He could wait another minute just for the hell of it, but his own desire is starting to fall apart.
“You can move, baby,” Ron instructs, and Harry gasps, immediately rolling his hips, angling them so that Ron’s cock tilts and rubs right against his prostate.
He uses his position to start lifting himself up and bouncing back down; it makes his skirt fly from each gust of air as he takes Ron back down to the hilt. Ron loves watching Harry come undone like this. He could sit back with his arms behind his head as Harry fucks himself on his cock with reckless abandon.
But he also loves to touch Harry, to grip his arsecheeks and pry them apart, so his cock reaches even deeper. He loves to grab hold of the jiggling muscle and imprint his fingers into the skin. Tonight, when he fucks Harry again, there will be bruises to remind him of how beautiful he is now. How beautiful he always is, coming undone like this.
And to think he was still a virgin a month ago.
Ron starts lifting his lips to match Harry’s thrusts downward. The smack of their skin ricochets through Grimmauld Place. Ron hasn’t officially moved in, but he also has never left. They haven’t spent a night apart since that first one. Mainly because it’s nearly impossible to get through a workday without wanting to rip off each other’s clothing. By 5 o’clock, they’re nearly clawing at the walls with lust and need.
They’ve already snogged each other senseless during their lunch breaks. It hasn’t happened yet, but Ron’s positive one of these nights will end with Harry bent over his desk, red Auror robes pushed up over his back. Then he’ll take Harry to dinner at a fancy restaurant, sealed up and still full of Ron’s come.
“I’m gonna–” Harry starts, swallows, then remembers, “May I come?”
Ron rams his cock upward, piercing Harry's prostate so hard that he yells in need.
“Please Ron!”
“Come for me, love,” Ron purrs, and Harry explodes not a second later. His come coats the underside of his skirt and all over his and Ron’s thighs. It causes the cloth to stick to him as he continues to bounce through the ecstasy of his orgasm.
Ron holds out just a bit longer before pulling Harry down tightly against his thighs, burying himself deep into his home, and releasing everything he has deep into Harry’s insides. He coats his lover from the inside out. Harry is his, and he will never share.
Harry doesn’t move from his place, completely spent and breathing so hard he might fall over. Every single time has been intense like this. Even when they go slow and sensual, when they take their time and explore, his entire soul leaves his body so that Ron can consume him.
They sit together on the couch, catching their breath with whimsical smiles.
“Now we’re really going to be late,” Harry breathes. “Your mates will be annoyed.”
“They’re your mates too, now. Plus, they wouldn’t blame us if they knew why,” Ron laughs, but Harry pulls himself off Ron, whining at the loss of what had filled him for possibly the last hour. He misses it instantly as it rushes down his legs.
Ron enjoys the view and picks up his wand from the coffee table. But instead of casting a cleaning spell, he casts a glamour on the white, sticky spunk leaking out of his boyfriend so that only he can see it.
Harry looks down, noticing the feel of magic but the lack of dryness. He spins around, his green eyes still sleepy from the good shag and sparking with shock from Ron’s spell.
“You didn’t clean it?” he starts, then falls into a soft blush of embarrassment that drives Ron crazy as he shakes his head no. He loves the bashful innocence that he gets to corrupt. That Harry will twist and whine for his cock. “What if someone else notices?”
Ron reaches up to cup Harry’s face and pulls him down for a soft kiss.
“No one else is going to notice because the only person you’ll be dancing with is me.”
Harry laughs but leans over to kiss his boyfriend again. Ron reaches up to smooth Harry’s skirt down.
“I like your skirt.”
Harry smiles and says what he had wanted to say on that very first night. “I like you.”
Ron smiles. “Just like? Not love?”
“That, too,” Harry hums before kissing Ron again.