n o t . y o u r . s i s t e r ' s . s e e k e r

Not Your Sister's Seeker
[by victoria p.]

Rating: Adult

Summary: Mates don't go around kissing or groping each other, no matter how much Ron wants to.

Notes: For wireandroses in the Pornish Pixies Fantasy Fest. The request was ron/harry, an argument turns into lots of sex, first time, mild bondage is cool but they both have to like it. Thanks to Mousapelli for the beta.

Word count: 1,710

Date: May 5, 2005

Everyone pairs off for trips to Hogsmeade these days. The professors even encourage it, always blathering on about buddy systems and strengthening friendship between houses, but Ron knows it's just an extra measure of protection, now that they've finally admitted there's a war on.

Hermione's off with Terry Boot and Ginny's just disappeared with Luna and Neville. She was laughing, but Ron knows she's hiding the hurt at once again not being asked to Hogsmeade by Harry.

Harry doesn't appear just because Ron's thinking of him, and Ron doesn't want to miss the day, so he heads back upstairs to find him.

Harry's half-dressed, and looks as if he's still half-asleep, which he probably is, because they were up until half past two last night talking rubbish when they should have been studying Charms. His hair sticks out at all angles and his glasses are slightly askew, and his mouth is red and wet because he's brushing his teeth, wandering back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom as he gets ready.

Ron's mouth goes dry and his palms get sweaty, and he wants to reach out and touch-- He shakes his head and pushes those feelings down. There's no place for that sort of thing between him and Harry. They're mates, have been and will be forever. Mates don't go around kissing or groping each other, no matter how much he wants to right now.

No, Harry should be with Ginny, and Ron is angry that Harry keeps treating her with so little regard.

"All right?" Harry asks around his toothbrush, one hand attempting to slick down his hair with water, oblivious to Ron's turmoil.

"Ginny's just left with Neville and Luna. If we hurry, we can catch up with them," he says as Harry moves back into the bathroom and then out again, done with his cleaning rituals.

"Is that what you want to do?" Harry asks. He pulls a pair of socks out of the chest of drawers and drops them on his bed before turning to Ron. He looks lost and a little confused.

"It's what you want to do," Ron says, carefully neutral.

Harry cocks his head thoughtfully. "No, it really isn't."

"It isn't?" Ron can feel his temper rising, but he tries to keep hold of it. "Why isn't it?"

Harry shrugs. "It just isn't."

"You-- You--" is all Ron can manage. He lunges at Harry, shoves him into the wall. "You should treat my sister with more respect!"

"What the hell?" Harry asks, shoving him back. "I respect your sister a lot, Ron. I just don't fancy her."

Another push, his hands against Harry's chest. "Well, you should!" It makes sense in Ron's head, even if it sounds a little wonky when he says it out loud. If he can't have Harry, Ginny should. Keep him in the family, at least.

They tussle for a few moments -- Ron is taller and heavier, but Harry is wiry and sly, and not above cheating to win. He hooks a foot around the back of Ron's knee, and Ron finds himself on his back on Harry's bed, with Harry sitting on his belly. They're both breathing heavily, and Ron flushes as he tries to stop his body from responding to having Harry on top of him.

"Gerroff!" He bucks up, but Harry clamps his knees tight to Ron's hips and hangs on. He twists, reaching for something on the bedside table, his t-shirt rising to bare a strip of pale skin that Ron can only stare at helplessly, his mouth gone dry. Which is why he's surprised when Harry wraps a tie around his wrists and then ties it to the headboard.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Ron's voice squeaks. He wriggles a little in an attempt to get free, but all he manages to do is grind up against Harry's arse, which makes both of them gasp. Harry's eyes spark and Ron flushes miserably. He pulls against the silky material of Harry's tie, which is cool on his suddenly overheated skin, but he can't get free.

"I'm making sure that you don't go anywhere until I'm done saying what I have to say," Harry says, scooting back a bit, making Ron gasp and swallow. He leans forward, his hands now splayed across Ron's chest, over his heart, which is beating wildly.

Ron raises his chin, as defiant as he can be with his hands stretched above his head and the boy he wants sitting on top of him. "Well, go on then."

But Harry doesn't speak. Instead, he leans forward and presses his lips to Ron's.

Ron stares at him for a long moment, seeing himself reflected in Harry's glasses, eyes wide and shocked.

He pulls back, Harry's name on his trembling lips, the only question he can think to ask.

"I don't fancy Ginny," Harry answers in a low voice, his lips so close to Ron's that Ron can taste his breath, "because I've always fancied you."

"Oh," Ron whispers, almost afraid to breathe, because it might be a spell and he doesn't want to break it.

"Yeah." Harry ducks his head and his cheeks are tinged with pink, and Ron's chest tightens at the sight. "And I thought you might fancy me, too." Harry swallows hard, and Ron can practically smell how nervous he is.

"Okay, then," he says, and his voice shakes only a little. "We should do something about this."

Harry lifts his head and meets Ron's gaze, green eyes alight with heat and something else Ron thinks may be happiness, though he hasn't seen Harry happy in a long time. He says, "I was planning to."

He leans in and kisses Ron again, tongues sliding warm and wet against each other, like light over silk. Their bodies pick up the rhythm, back and forth, thrust and parry, and Ron can't get enough. He hears the rasp of Harry's zip and then his own flies are undone, Harry's hand warm and a little sweaty on the skin of his belly. Ron's eyes roll back in his head at the feel of Harry's trembling fingers on his cock, which has been aching for this touch for months now.

He wishes his hands were free so he could touch Harry the way Harry's touching him, deft Seeker's fingers stroking his cock, cupping his balls, feathering along the insides of his thighs, the ticklish skin of his belly as they move against each other. He wants to climb inside Harry, wants to swallow him down, keep him safe and warm and -- Oh, oh, oh -- He can't tell which of them is moaning, and it doesn't matter. He just wants to feel this way forever, wild and alive, his body bucking off the bed, out of his control.

Pleasure rips through him like lightning, and he spills himself over their thrusting bodies with a loud grunt. Harry kisses him again, moaning into his mouth, and as he drifts back to earth, he feels Harry come hot and wet against his body.

Harry rolls off him and they lie quietly for a bit, sticky and sated. Ron can't quite believe this is actually happening. Harry produces his wand and murmurs cleaning spells, but he doesn't leave; he strips off his jeans and y-fronts and does the same for Ron, pulling off his boots and tossing his clothes to the floor. Then he curls up on the bed and rests his head on Ron's now aching shoulder.

Finally, Ron says, "I just want you to be happy."

Harry thrusts against him, already up for another go. "You're what makes me happy, Ron. And I think I make you pretty happy, too." He wraps a hand around Ron's burgeoning erection and Ron has to agree.

He wants to let himself melt into Harry's touch, to forget everything and everyone else, but he can't quite do it yet. "What about Ginny?"

Harry blinks. "It's not on to discuss your sister while we're having it off," he says, shaking his head.

Ron snorts. "Seriously. I mean, she's been in love with you forever."

"She hasn't really," Harry answers, running his fingers along the vein on the underside of Ron's cock, making him moan low in his throat. "She got over it a long time ago, if she ever really was." He thumbs the slit and Ron arches into his hand. "Can we stop talking about Ginny now? I want to suck you off."

"God, yes," Ron manages, spreading his legs so Harry can move between them. "Wait--" Harry looks up, confused. Ron tugs at his hands. "Can you untie me first? So I can touch you?" Even to his own ears he sounds unsure, and he's just glad his voice doesn't break.

Harry lights up like a beacon, and Ron thinks that for once, he's said the right thing. "I'd like that," Harry says, his voice low and rough as he reaches up to undo the knots binding Ron to the bed. Ron rubs at his wrists, fingers flexing against the pins and needles sensation, then cups Harry's face in his hands, his skin surprisingly soft, his bones unsurprisingly strong.

They stare at each other for a brief, endless moment, and then Ron leans up and kisses him, fingers stroking over soft skin, before sliding down to encircle Harry's cock. Harry takes a shuddering breath and Ron grins. Knowing he has this effect on Harry gives every touch an extra edge of pleasure. Harry begins stroking him again; it's a little awkward at first, but they find a rhythm that works and soon that wild tension is spiraling high and tight inside Ron's body. When it finally breaks in a hot rush of pleasure, he moans, "Harry." Harry grins at him before shuddering to his own climax.

Harry collapses on top of Ron when he's done, his cheek resting over Ron's heart, and Ron squeezes him tightly. For a little while, the only sound in the room is their ragged breathing.

When he's no longer heaving like a bellows, Ron says, "I think you owe me a blowjob."

Harry looks up and grins, eyes gleaming wickedly in the mid-morning light. "We've got time. Everyone will be gone for hours."

end

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