Scars and Stripes
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Ron
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,302
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Ron
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,302
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Scar and Stripes
Scars and Stripes
“Hey, Harry,” Ron murmured as he collapsed on the bed across the room. He looked exhausted, sagging in on himself like a bag of flour. He was scratching again too.
“Want me to get the ointment?”
His hands snapped to his sides as if he were suddenly struck by the full body bind. It was obvious to anyone that the scars were running him ragged. Yet half the time, he refused to admit that they existed, let alone that they were bothering him.
“Nah, I'm good,” he responded, now slightly squirming to try to rid his arms of the incessant tingles and shocks of sensation that had plagued him since the Department of Mysteries. “Reckon, I just need some sleep. It'll be fine in the morning.”
Liar. No, bad liar. We both knew he wasn't going to get any sleep, and neither was I knowing he was still awake on the other side of the room. The thought of sleep alone brought up the guilt. He hadn't slept well in weeks... and it was my fault he'd been there in the first place. But I couldn't think of that now, I had to go get that ointment.
When I came back from the potions' cupboard downstairs, I found him like this. Tense, face taut in concentration, fingers clawing at the sheets, as his back arched slowly off of the bed. Ten seconds later, he rolled over onto his side, jerking erratically and trying to muffle his moans by pressing his face to his palms. I had never been so hard in my life.
“Ron?” I tried again. My voice was trembling as much as he was at this point. “Ron?”
He looked at me with a dazed, yet satisfied look until his brain caught up with what had just happened. I'd seen the whole thing and I still wasn't sure if my cock was playing tricks on me. He turned ghost white within seconds and had it not been for the sudden bout of embarrassed hyperventilating, I'd have thought him dead.
“Ron? Are you okay?” I asked, though at the moment, I was pretty sure that I would've creamed my pants had I have moved an inch toward him. My voice was still shaking. However, before he could answer his eyes glazed over and he fell back into whatever had taken him over moments before.
He couldn't contain his moans as he began arching his back and lifting his hips up as if someone was deep inside him. More so, fucking him to within an inch of his life. I was gonna lose it. I could feel my legs tensing up and my cock become heavy with cum. Then he was rubbing at his chest – his nipples – and becoming quieter with every jerk of his hips. He was close and everything in me wanted to be closer.
I didn't realize what I was doing or thinking until I had placed the ointment on the nightstand and was settled atop him with a hand down his pajama fronts. He was hard and leaking and I was stroking him. His eyes flashed open in complete shock before he moaned, shut his eyes and began rocking his hips into my hand frantic for a release. I was so far gone that when my lips sealed around the head of his cock and he gave a short shout, I wasn't surprised at all. I was dying to hear more of him, more of Ron, and I just had to. He ran both hands through my hair before he began muttering breathlessly.
“Oh, Mer- Harry, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm cumming.” And that was all I needed as I shamelessly stroked myself, while feeling my mouth fill with bittersweet liquid. I was still shaking from aftershocks and trying to swallow the rest of Ron's cum when he pulled me up to lie next to him.
“What was that?” I asked. My voice thick from...you know.
“I really needed to scratch. That happens when I don't do it long enough,” he replied, trying to catch his breath.
“Don't scratch anymore,” I told him, with more command in my voice than I had meant. He laughed long and hard.
He pulled me into a kiss when he settled down and told me he'd use the ointment during the day to stop scratching but that I'd have to help him at night. At that moment, I don't think I could've smiled wider without an engorgement charm. I kissed him lazily and deeply, and he smiled before slipping off to sleep.
It was the first night of real rest we'd had all summer and the last I slept alone. Furthermore, we came to an understanding that if he had a scratch he couldn't reach, I'd better be there to help.
“Hey, Harry,” Ron murmured as he collapsed on the bed across the room. He looked exhausted, sagging in on himself like a bag of flour. He was scratching again too.
“Want me to get the ointment?”
His hands snapped to his sides as if he were suddenly struck by the full body bind. It was obvious to anyone that the scars were running him ragged. Yet half the time, he refused to admit that they existed, let alone that they were bothering him.
“Nah, I'm good,” he responded, now slightly squirming to try to rid his arms of the incessant tingles and shocks of sensation that had plagued him since the Department of Mysteries. “Reckon, I just need some sleep. It'll be fine in the morning.”
Liar. No, bad liar. We both knew he wasn't going to get any sleep, and neither was I knowing he was still awake on the other side of the room. The thought of sleep alone brought up the guilt. He hadn't slept well in weeks... and it was my fault he'd been there in the first place. But I couldn't think of that now, I had to go get that ointment.
When I came back from the potions' cupboard downstairs, I found him like this. Tense, face taut in concentration, fingers clawing at the sheets, as his back arched slowly off of the bed. Ten seconds later, he rolled over onto his side, jerking erratically and trying to muffle his moans by pressing his face to his palms. I had never been so hard in my life.
“Ron?” I tried again. My voice was trembling as much as he was at this point. “Ron?”
He looked at me with a dazed, yet satisfied look until his brain caught up with what had just happened. I'd seen the whole thing and I still wasn't sure if my cock was playing tricks on me. He turned ghost white within seconds and had it not been for the sudden bout of embarrassed hyperventilating, I'd have thought him dead.
“Ron? Are you okay?” I asked, though at the moment, I was pretty sure that I would've creamed my pants had I have moved an inch toward him. My voice was still shaking. However, before he could answer his eyes glazed over and he fell back into whatever had taken him over moments before.
He couldn't contain his moans as he began arching his back and lifting his hips up as if someone was deep inside him. More so, fucking him to within an inch of his life. I was gonna lose it. I could feel my legs tensing up and my cock become heavy with cum. Then he was rubbing at his chest – his nipples – and becoming quieter with every jerk of his hips. He was close and everything in me wanted to be closer.
I didn't realize what I was doing or thinking until I had placed the ointment on the nightstand and was settled atop him with a hand down his pajama fronts. He was hard and leaking and I was stroking him. His eyes flashed open in complete shock before he moaned, shut his eyes and began rocking his hips into my hand frantic for a release. I was so far gone that when my lips sealed around the head of his cock and he gave a short shout, I wasn't surprised at all. I was dying to hear more of him, more of Ron, and I just had to. He ran both hands through my hair before he began muttering breathlessly.
“Oh, Mer- Harry, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm cumming.” And that was all I needed as I shamelessly stroked myself, while feeling my mouth fill with bittersweet liquid. I was still shaking from aftershocks and trying to swallow the rest of Ron's cum when he pulled me up to lie next to him.
“What was that?” I asked. My voice thick from...you know.
“I really needed to scratch. That happens when I don't do it long enough,” he replied, trying to catch his breath.
“Don't scratch anymore,” I told him, with more command in my voice than I had meant. He laughed long and hard.
He pulled me into a kiss when he settled down and told me he'd use the ointment during the day to stop scratching but that I'd have to help him at night. At that moment, I don't think I could've smiled wider without an engorgement charm. I kissed him lazily and deeply, and he smiled before slipping off to sleep.
It was the first night of real rest we'd had all summer and the last I slept alone. Furthermore, we came to an understanding that if he had a scratch he couldn't reach, I'd better be there to help.