Literature, Smut, and Adult Themes

No...Draco did not send Dobby! Dobby came of his own will (for this story’s purposes). Sorry for the wait...school and work came in to play in my life. But, back again, here’s a better Chapter 8, picking up at the end of Chapter 3 in CoS, just entering Ron’s room.

Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: nearly everything in Ron’s room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realised that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks and waving energetically.

“Your Quidditch team?” said Harry.

“The Chudley Cannons,” said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black Cs and a speeding cannonball. “Ninth in the league.”

Ron’s school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics which all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Ron’s magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frogspawn on the window-sill, next to his fat grey rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys’ hedge. Then he turned to look at Ron, who was watching him almost nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.

(ignore the rest of the chapter)

“It’s awesome,” Harry said, looking around, “where do I sleep?”

Ron flushed red, “Um...we don’t have any extra mattresses, and since my bed is a double, my mom’s making you share my bed.”

“Shotgun the right side,” Harry said, trying not to appear surprised at the fact.

“Okay,” Ron mumbled, though he usually slept on the right.

Though it was nearly morning, both boys were angling for a rest before the sun shone. So, Harry and Ron agreed to go to bed.

“Uh...” Ron said after a moment of silence, looking at a poster, “what d’you usually sleep in?”

“Underwear. You?” Harry asked.

“Pyjama pants,” Ron replied, “turn away as I change, ‘k?”

“I’ll turn, and change myself,” Harry said.

Both turned away from each other, and stripped nude. Ron went to his dresser and grabbed his pants; just before he put them on, though, he turned his head around and caught a quick glimpse of Harry pulling down his clothes. He had a farmer’s tan, and was quite white down his back and on his...naked butt. He was slim and looked like he could use more food, because he was so ... taught. Ron’s dick grew harder than it had ever been before, and he quickly flushed red again before putting on his pants.

At the same time, Harry silently stared at the window; thanks to the lamp near Ron, the glass became as reflective as a mirror, and he watched Ron’s naked backside with eagerness. He was erect in a moment, and enjoyed the kinky feeling of being naked with Ron. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the cool air swirled around him, and he was so tempted to start wanking. He usually did it once or twice a week, but ever since the Dobby incident he had been too shocked to get aroused. He was ready for another go, but he decided to be discreet and pulled on his y-fronts; they were too small for the tent he was forming, though. To hide it, he jumped into the bed, under the covers, and pulled them up to his neck.

“Hey, easy there,” Ron chuckled nervously as he too jumped on the bed, doing his best to hide his hard on. Getting under the covers, he pulled them up to his chest and then closed his eyes.

“You always sleep with the light on?” Harry asked, noticing the lamp.

“Yeah...why, you don’t?”

“Er, no,” Harry said, squirming a bit.

“I can’t sleep without it,” Ron confirmed, “sorry, mate,”

“It’s just that...” Harry began, nervously. Shivers began running through his body, and he began to stutter, “I just...uh...”

“Yes?”

“Uh...I haven’t ... hmm ... er ... had a, uh, wank, in a couple of weeks,” he managed to say within a couple of minutes, “so, uh, could we turn the light off?”

“Wank?”

“Yeah...I need it bad.”

“Need what?”

“A wank!”

Ron gulped...he knew it was something private, but he didn’t quite understand what it was, “What’s a wank?”

“Oh,” Harry snickered timidly, “you don’t know what a wank is?”

“Nope,” Ron turned on his side to face Harry in the bed, who was still lying on his back.

“You’ll thank me for this,” Harry whispered, barely audible.

Following a hesitant moment of caution, Harry shoved the covers off of his body, allowing them to gather around his knees. His hard on was now clearly visible through the thin white material of his underwear, and it only got firmer with the new attention.

Ron gasped, and felt his own erection through the covers, feeling quite awkward; however, he could only blush deeper when Harry continued. He dipped his fingers under the waistband, and with a quick pull he removed his underwear off. It was thrown on the floor with a quiet thump, and Harry grabbed the shaft with his right hand and pulled down.

Harry let out the most erotic moan Ron had ever heard in his life, but he couldn’t be distracted away from the beautiful cock – not that he had seen many – in front of him. Suddenly filled with a mysterious wave of courage, Ron shucked off his covers and pyjama pants, revealing his own firm penis. Neither had any hair down below yet, and were barely on the track to puberty; however, Ron noticed immediately that his was slightly shorter than Harry’s.

Finding time alone in a house with so many members and oddities, Ron had never explored his dick to any extent; he got hard, sure, but he only knew to wait it off, thinking of stupid and boring things, instead of indulging. Once, when he was 7, he caught Charlie pulling on his dick in the bathroom, but his brother had yelled and screamed so much that he cried and forgot what he saw.

“Watch me,” Harry insisted – as if I could turn away, Ron thought. With his left hand, Harry gathered some spit from his mouth and then wet his aching erection with it. The pleasure doubled, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into the air. Tugging violently, he looked over at Ron and his own cock, only becoming further aroused each passing second.

“How long do we ... ahhh ... go for?” Ron asked, pulling on his dick with a speed equivalent to Harry.

“Until we cum...oh, I’m close...” Harry did his best not to yell out in pleasure, going faster. After a solid thirty seconds of movement, he suddenly thrust up, leaned over in Ron’s direction, and climaxed. For the first time since he had begun jerking off, he fired semen out of his body – it wasn’t much, just a drop or two, but it pushed Ron over the edge. He spasmed wildly, breathing deeply as he climaxed, but he didn’t have anything to shoot.

Both boys lay there, on their backs, naked, panting. Exhausted, they laughed contently through deep breaths, and soon enough their dicks went to half mast.

“Shit, sorry, Ron,” Harry noticed the cum on his belly, “let me get that,”

With impressive bravado, Harry reached over and wiped up the white liquid with his fingers off the taught skin. He rubbed his hands on the sheets, and then gave a deep sigh.

“That was bloody terrific, mate,” Ron laughed, and looked at his naked best friend in the eyes, “When does my dick go soft again?”

Harry sat up, and looked down Ron’s body and then his own – their dicks weren’t flaccid as they should have been, following a wank. Then, he remembered what Oliver had told him ages ago – “the younger you are, the more sexual energy you have in you. I guess that you are ready to go again”.

“I’ve got an idea...” Harry smiled.


Sorry about the cliffhanger and the wait...