So Wrong

Title: So Wrong
Author: Sing to Angels
Author’s notes: Right, I just whipped this up in twenty
minutes. Don’t ask me where it came from,
somewhere deep in my twisted psyche, I suppose. That and
I’ve been reading far toch fch fan fiction lately so my
mind is warping from the strain. This is in answer to the
Masturbation Challenge at TSC, so I hope all of you fellow
nutters enjoy this. I’m sure that the Ron fans will, at
least, considering that he is the main character.
Mandatory Disclaimer: So not mine. Belongs to JK Rowling, lucky woman she is.
 
 
It was just so wrong.

This happened every time they got into a
fight. Hermione would flick her hair in his face whilst
clutching his arm and he’d wish that she could move her
hand just a little lower and grab something else as he
strained against her. That’s when it would happen
and he’d have to make his excuses and dash madly to the
loo.

Harry would try and follow him, of
course, be the supportive friend. But Ron wanted to be alone.
God, didn’t they understand? He simply had to be
alone for this.

Ron sighed and ran his hands through his
hair once he’d reached the empty lavatory. He sat down
on a toilet in one of the stalnd tnd tried to think of
something that would make that—that thing in his
trousers go away. Well, he didn’t want it to go away,
just to—er, shrink back to its normal size. Shrink
wasn’t a great word either.

Giving up on trying to make sense of his
dilemma, Ron unbuttoned his trousers and tentatively patt his special friend. It was whispering to him again, he could
almost hear it say: Come on, mate. You know you want to
touch me. Maybe a tussle with me will make you forget all
about it. How many opportunities do you get to bash the
bishop in your dormitory at night? With all of those other
boys around, it’s quite . . . hard to be secretive.

Ron growled deep in the back of his
throat and stuck a hand in his pants. The buttons of his
trousers grated his knuckles when he squeezed the head of his
penis until it turned bright red. A squeak escaped Ron’s
lips before he remembered to press them together. He wanted
to kill the thing; then he wouldn’t have this sort of
reaction to everything around him. Especially the
very-naughty-highly-inappropriate-adrenaline-surge that went
through him earlier.

He closed his eyes and leant his head
against the tiled wall behind the toilet, squirming his hips
to get comfortable. Pictures flashed behind Ron’s eyes
and he tried desperately to shut them out, but they were
insistent. Finally, he gave way to them and let his fingers
glide down over the head of his penis to circle the root and
back again.

This was so wrong.

One didn’t just dip into the loo
for a quick strangle between classes. Normal wizards
d#146#146;t do this, did they? Bickering didn’t turn on
normal wizards, and certainly not with someone like—
Ron whimpered and pumped his hand up and
down faster, squeezing desperately. Make it go away, make it
go away, make it go away! A Hogwarts’ robe, shiny
shoes over little feet, delicate hands, a scowl,
hair—hair— hair. Not the hair, anything but that hair.

He could feel it coming. Ron had allowed
his mind to stray to the hair and now there was nothing that
would hold back that wet, sticky, goo that always shot out of
his—er, wand. Sensations tumbled through his mind now. A
shove, a punch, rolling around on the floor, someone’s
waist between his knees as he gave it to them good. He
whispered a name unwillingly.

“Eeek,” Ron gasped, still
moving his hand furiously, digging his fingers into the
hardened flesh as if he could rip the betraying part off of
his body. There was no way. It just wasn’t possible.

Ron’s bottom tensed and he could
feel the length in his hand quiver and thicken. His skin was
slippery with sweat and— other things. He tugged,
yanked, and pulled harsher than usual, the pain calming him a
bit. Then Ron’s hips sprang up, his body tightened and
it was finally over.

“Ew,” he muttered, and wiped
the mess from his fingers with some tissue.

It was quiet now. It wasn’t
speaking to him anymore and it lay as if dead against the
band of his pants.

Ron grunted and stood up to button his
trousers. He patted his robes down and adjusted his collar
before unlocking the stall door and coming face to face with
Draco Malfoy.

“Aaaah!” Ron screamed and
ducked back into the stall, leaning up against the door and
closing his eyes. Did he hear anything? Ron prayed that he
didn’t.

“Well, well, well, Weasley. Are we
having problems?” Malfoy drawled. Ron could hear the
sneer in the other boy’s voice and he knew he was sunk.

“None of your business, Malfoy.
Just go away.”

There was a rustling on the other side
of the door and Ron risked a peek through the crack to see
Malfoy staring directly at him with a smirk on his face.

“It’s too bad I didn’t have a camera to
capture that performance, Weasley.”
“Sod off, you creepy twat,”

Ron growled. He’d had enough of this already. Ron opened
the door, slamming it into the wall with a bang, and shoved
past Malfoy.

“I’m not the creepy one. I’m
not the one wanking off between classes in an empty
lavatory.”

“No, you just like to spy on other
people doing it.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and leant up
against the wall. “Who said I was spying?”

Ron washed his hands at the sink and
continued to ignore what was being said to him. He turned off
the tap, dried his hands on his robes, and strode
purposefully toward the door. Malfoy was still
talking, but something he said struck Ron the wrong way and
he turned around.

“What did you say?”

Malfoy grinned broadly, showing all of
his perfect, straight teeth in a smug manner. “I said
that if you needed help, you could have asked.”

Then he disappeared into the stall Ron
had vacated with a saucy wink. Ron stood rooted to his place
and stared with his jaw hanging down near his chest. Did
Malfoy just say what he thought he said? No, no, no, he must
have heard wrong or something. Suddenly, there was a loud,
dramatic groan and Ron flinched. He wasn’t!

“Malfoy, you’re bloody
sick!” Ron screeched.

“No more than you are,” a
voice echoed from the stall. “You got just as worked up
as I did earlier, but at least I can admit it.”

Ron felt his ears burn and he looked
down at the floor, tapping the tiles with his foot. That
wasn’t the reason he had, you know, earlier. It was
because Hermione grabbed his arm and her hair went into his
face, and then he noticed Malfoy’s hair and how
shiny it was against his pink, flushed cheeks and . . . oh
God!

Another groan came from the stall, even
louder this time, and Ron jerked his head up to see a shiny
shoe peeking out from under the door. He screwed up his
courage and walked over to the stall. It was just so wrong.

“Do you— uh, need any help in
there, Malfoy?”