12 : Orange
Title: Orange
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter / Ron Weasley
Prompt: Orange
Word Count: 450
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Written for fanfic100 and posted at harryron.

The one hundred stories are inspired by Broke Back Mountain.

Ron looks back on one hundred memories of his life with and without Harry.

Enjoy.


Orange
****
I knew he knew about Hermione, about my girls, but I couldn’t face him seeing them yet.

I tore my mouth away from his. “Come with me?” I asked.

“Yes,” he whispered.

I held him tight and Side-Along-Apparated him to my old room at the Burrow.

Nothing had changed; the blur of players circled the room, moving from poster to poster.

I Impeturbed the door and dropped my wand.

His eyes followed it and he swallowed.

But he knew why we were here.

We fell upon each other, our hands desperate to slide beneath clothing, our mouths hungry.

His fingers were mapping my chest as I unzipped both our jeans and pushed them down to our knees, not thinking of kicking off my trainers, not able to waste a second before freeing my cock and pressing up against his.

I wrapped my hand round both and stroked a few times, but it wasn’t enough.

He was shaking as he bit hard on my shoulder, lapping at the broken skin.

I knew I had to be inside him, but I wasn’t going to ask.

I turned him around and bent him over my old bed, hearing the air whoosh out of his lungs as he landed. He moaned and frantically kicked one foot free of shoe and jeans and I grabbed my wand and shot the lube over his arse as he spread his legs for me.

I leant over him, one hand tangled in his hair as I pushed his face into the dusty orange bedspread, the other using my cock to spread the lube between his cheeks.

He groaned and pushed back against me as I slid slowly inside him.

After a few strokes I pulled his head back and he gulped in air, his breath hissing between his teeth as I thrust again.

I covered his body with mine, hooking my arm round his throat and kissing what I could reach of his face. Grabbing his hip with my free hand, I pulled him back against me with every thrust and he was almost sobbing as I reached beneath him to stroke his cock.

Our ragged climaxes rocked through us and I numbly pulled out of his body, sitting beside him on my bed, my trousers round my ankles, trying to catch my breath.

“Why?” I asked, chest heaving.

He surged up and round, leading with his fist and catching me on the cheekbone.

“Fuck!” I spat as blood flew. “Harry!”

His other hand came up and I flinched, but gentle fingertips ran over my face and he said, “I’m sorry.”

“You left me,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you can say?” I demanded.

“I’m going to marry Ginny,” he whispered.


My Big Damn Table.