Words : 1200
This is for the wonderful resqdog51, as a ‘reward’ for my not only stealing her birthday, but also begging everyone to write Harry/Ron for ME and forgetting to mention it was her birthday too!
And it was betaed, faster than a speeding bullet, by the incomparable lardencelover - she really had to beat it into submission.
Harry was lying on his stomach on his bed, trying to read one hundred pages of Transfiguration notes before the following day’s NEWT exam. Ron was lying on his own bed, on his back, arse on his pillow, legs up the wall, twirling a ruler in his hand. Harry’s lips moved soundlessly as he tried to memorise the complicated theory behind Human Transformations.
Ron was bored.
“Harry?” he called.
“Hmmm?” grunted Harry.
“What d’you reckon the distance is between my nipples?”
Harry blinked. He replayed what his brain thought it had just heard. He blinked again. “What?” he managed.
“I bet you can’t guess, Harry!” said Ron swinging his legs down and perching on the edge of his bed.
“You know, I think you’re right. I can’t guess,” said Harry, frowning at him, clearly baffled.
“Eight and a half inches,” said Ron triumphantly.
“Why do we need to know that?” asked Harry.
“Because,” explained Ron, in a rather long-suffering tone of voice, “the distance between your nipples is the same as the length of your cock.”
“No it isn’t,” said Harry. “Just think of my cousin Dudley! Ugh!”
“Well, it is for me,” said Ron.
“Eight and a half inches?” said Harry scornfully. “No it bloody isn’t.”
“Yes it is,” insisted Ron, getting up and leaping onto Harry’s bed with his ruler.
Harry laughed and tried to stay face down on the bed, but Ron was taller and stronger, and he managed to slide an arm under him and flip him over. Harry tried to cover his chest with his hands, so Ron sat astride him and peeled one hand away from his nipples and held it down above Harry’s head. Ron’s other hand was clutching the ruler, so Harry twisted to grab hold of Ron’s wrist and push away the offending ruler from his chest, the other hand struggling to shake off Ron’s.
“Git,” laughed Harry.
“Prat,” snorted Ron.
“Wanker,” giggled Harry.
“Ah, well, that’s how I know I’m right,” snorted Ron.
Harry flopped back onto the bed. “All right, all right... weirdo. I’ll let you measure me, just let me go,” he pleaded, squirming to get his hands back. Ron grudgingly let him go, tugging on Harry’s shirt to pull it tight, revealing his nipples through the thin cotton and holding the ruler from one to the other.
He squinted at the ruler and sniggered.
“What?” said Harry.
“Seven,” said Ron.
“Yeah, well, so what?” said Harry. “You’re talking crap, as usual.”
“I’m not!” snorted Ron. “Let’s measure.” And he climbed off of Harry and settled back against the headboard of the bed.
“Measure?” asked Harry doubtfully, pushing up unto his elbows. “Measure what, exactly?”
“What d’you think?” said Ron, undoing his jeans.
Harry sat up fast and gaped at him. “You cannot be serious,” he said.
“What would Hermione say if we didn’t investigate this theory fully?” smirked Ron, wriggling out of his trousers.
“But Ron, we’d have to… you know…” Harry squeaked.
“Don’t tell me you don’t,” scoffed Ron, “because I’ve heard you do it.” And he slipped his orange boxers off and sat cross-legged on the bed. “C’mon,” he said encouragingly to Harry, “strip off.”
Harry spluttered a bit, but crawled to the edge of the bed and climbed out of his jeans and boxers. “Seriously, mate,” he muttered, “I think you’re losing it.”
“Nah,” said Ron, “it’s no big deal.” And he wrapped his hand around his cock and started slowly stroking it.
Harry’s eyes opened very wide, but he sat down opposite Ron and took himself in hand. Watching Ron was mesmerising; he was very open about it, grinning at Harry as he squeezed and stroked himself, running his thumb across the ridge and over the head. His cock was rapidly rising in his hand and Harry froze like a rabbit in a car’s headlights.
“C’mon,” said Ron again, and he crawled over to Harry and sat beside him, putting his free hand on Harry’s.
Harry looked down at their hands and swallowed hard. Ron’s hands both began moving again, using the same rhythm on each of them, and Harry felt his cock leap into his hand and become fully erect in record time. This just wasn’t normal. But, God it was good.
Very matter-of-factly, Ron let go of Harry’s cock and, ignoring Harry’s involuntary whimper, reached for the ruler.
Pushing Harry’s hand out of the way, Ron held the ruler tightly against Harry’s erection and pronounced “Six inches.”
“Well,” gasped Harry, twitching again as Ron let go of his cock, “so much for your theory.”
Ron grinned at him again and leant back on his hands, displaying his cock and handing Harry the ruler. Harry’s hands shook, but he held the ruler against Ron’s erection and carefully measured it. “Seven inches,” he announced.
“No way,” complained Ron. “It’s just not ready yet – you have a go.”
Harry looked startled, but he gamely put down the ruler and grasped Ron’s erection. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Ron was just looking politely interested, so he rolled his eyes and started stroking. Admittedly, he could feel the cock stiffen further and it was hot and heavy in his hand. After a few more strokes he reached for the ruler again and bent low to carefully take his measurements.
“OK,” he admitted, looking up at his friend, “seven and a half.”
“Damn,” muttered Ron, half turning towards Harry and reaching for his cock again, “it was such a good theory.” And he ran his fingers up the shaft and squeezed gently.
“Oh,” gasped Harry, meeting his eyes. Ron nodded, encouragingly, so Harry dropped the ruler and stroked Ron again. Ron thrust slowly into his hand and groaned.
“Ron?” Harry whispered, feeling a sudden surge of worry and vague panic, but Ron shushed him and leant closer, stroking Harry with a slightly clumsy action as their arms tangled together. Harry’s heart was racing, but it was the absolute hottest thing he had ever experienced and he tried his best to match Ron’s rhythm.
Ron obviously approved, because he groaned again and, leaning right up against Harry, captured his lips in a breathless kiss.
“Ron?” Harry whispered again, but “Shh, Harry,” Ron whispered against his lips, and squeezed harder.
Harry gave in. Why would he want to fight this anyway? He let Ron push him back onto the bed and they kissed hungrily as their hands moved faster and faster until Ron buried his face in Harry’s neck and moaned against his skin as he came.
Harry gasped at the feeling of Ron’s cock throbbing and jerking and he thrust desperately up into Ron’s hand and felt his own climax rip through him.
When their breathing had returned to normal, they disentangled and Ron leant up on his elbow and looked down at Harry. Harry straightened his glasses and looked up.
“Well,” said Harry awkwardly, “where did you read about that theory, anyway?”
Ron smirked, evilly. “I didn’t,” he admitted, “I made it up.”
“You made it up?” Harry raised incredulous eyebrows. “How?”
“Well,” Ron shrugged, “it sounds possible.”
“Yes, but why?” asked Harry.
“Why d’you think?” asked Ron. “So I could ravish you!”
“Brilliant!” said Harry, and pulled him down for another kiss.