Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/233573.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry/Ron
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-07-17 Words: 1565
****** Connect the Dots ******
by thepsychicclam
Summary
     This time it was Ron who crawled into bed with Harry.
It was not the first time he had kissed Ron. Experimental kisses in third year
became a regular on-again-off-again thing between them. The time at the
Burrough right before the Quidditch World Cup, when Harry crawled into Ron’s
bed in the middle of the night. Or after Cedric had died and Harry had slept in
Ron’s bed for three nights in a row, starting with kisses on night one but by
night three had Harry and Ron coming together for the first time. And the first
night at Grimmauld Place, when Harry was angry and lonely and confused and he
had fucked Ron so hard he left bruises.
Harry needed Ron all the time, just like Ron needed him, and sometimes they
needed each other more than others. This time it was Ron who crawled into bed
with Harry. They were back at Grimmauld Place, anxious and scared and relieved
because of what happened to Mr. Weasley. Harry thought that for the first time,
Ron felt firsthand the effects of the war, because until then he had been a
spectator, and now he was a full participant.
Ron’s face was a mask of fear and uncertainty, and Harry slid over so Ron could
fit beside him. Ron’s bare feet stuck out from the bottom of the blanket. He
lay on his side, towards Harry, and Harry could feel his warm breath against
his neck. They lay there for almost an hour, the only sound their varied
breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets when one of them shifted.
Harry couldn’t have slept if he’d wanted to; it took him hours to fall asleep
these days because of the dreams. He thought about many things, from Voldemort,
to the way Umbridge had fucked up Hogwarts, to spending time with Sirius, to
his kiss with Cho. It had been weird kissing a girl after kissing Ron for so
long, and he wasn’t sure which he liked better. He thought he liked Ron better,
because Cho didn’t leave his entire mouth burning and tingling from the
stubble.
He wondered what Ron was thinking about. He was certain Ron was thinking about
his father, but he imagined he also thought about Quidditch, maybe school, and
probably Hermione since Harry was fairly certain Ron had a crush on her, and
maybe even him. Harry hoped Ron was thinking about him.
Without a word, Ron slid a hand underneath Harry’s shirt and started rubbing
comforting circles on his stomach. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. It calmed
him, and he might have fallen asleep if he wouldn’t have known where that was
leading. He felt his pajama bottoms getting tight, but he didn’t move. Ron’s
hand against his skin felt too good, and it had been quite awhile since he’d
felt it.
Ron rolled towards him slightly and clumsily found his mouth. He caught Harry’s
cheek then nose before finding his mouth. They kissed lazily, unhurried and
deliberately. Ron’s hand never left Harry’s stomach.
Harry surprised himself by how much he realized he needed to feel Ron against
him, how much he needed to feel connected. He was so lonely these days, so
isolated if only by his own mind, and he idly wondered if Ron felt the same
thing. He felt like one of those Muggle child puzzles and someone had forgotten
to pencil in the lines inside him. He wanted to pencil Ron in if he could do
the same for him.
Ron’s hand moved upwards, flat palm against flat skin. Fingertips brushed a
nipple, then Ron was tugging at Harry’s shirt in an attempt to remove it. Harry
lifted up and helped Ron pull it over his head. Ron caught his mouth in a kiss
as soon as the shirt was over his head, and Harry brushed errant strands of
hair out of his eyes. The worn cotton of Ron’s shirt was soft against Harry’s
bare chest, and he curled his fingers into the material, pulling Ron closer.
Ron was all tongue and teeth and wetness and Harry couldn’t get close enough no
matter how deep his tongue was inside Ron’s mouth.
Harry’s glasses began digging into his face. He pulled away, receiving a soft
growl of disapproval from Ron, and Harry quickly readjusted the glasses on his
face before moving strictly to Ron’s throat. He wanted to hear him growl again,
feel the vibration under his tongue, so he scraped his teeth against his Adam’s
apple and kneaded the heel of his palm against Ron’s hard crotch. He was
rewarded with a sound that was a mix of word and moan, and Harry settled for
the way Ron’s throat felt against his tongue.
Harry pushed Ron back against the pillow, crawling on top of him. He straddled
Ron’s hips, pressing their hips together and Ron thrust up with an erratic jerk
and a grunt. Harry pulled back and looked down at him. Even in the dark he
could see the pink in his cheeks, lips damp and swollen. Ron’s hair was mussed
and the spot on his neck where Harry had bitten earlier was a slightly darker
shade than the surrounding skin. Harry wanted him, needed him. He knew from the
desperation in Ron’s eyes, his hands and breaths, that he needed Harry just as
much.
Ron was already pushing his bottoms over his hips and Harry worked his own down
to his knees. They had only done this twice – Harry’s first night at Grimmauld
Place and during last term – so Ron was tight and nervous despite his
enthusiasm. Harry was just as unsure, still new and unpracticed. Two shags with
their best friend hardly made either an expert. His fingers were slick inside
Ron, and Ron grabbed his neck and kissed him so hard his lip was throbbing
before whispering, now. Ron still had his t-shirt on, but that seemed secondary
to how much Harry needed to be inside Ron at that moment. And then he was
pushing inside, too fast at first, then too slow, then he was thrusting and
kissing and every nerve ending felt like it was going to explode. His mouth was
crushing against Ron’s, tongues so close he wasn’t sure which was his. They
moved together, Ron exhaling against his mouth, breath warm but cooling against
his lips. Soft cotton tickled his nipples, and he pressed even closer to feel
it against his body. Ron’s legs were wrapped against his waist, then one flat
against the bed, then were both by his ears, and then Harry pulled out and
nudged him to roll over.
Harry fit awkwardly against Ron’s back, but the height difference didn’t matter
to them. Harry held Ron around the waist, the material of Ron’s shirt sliding
each time Harry thrust. Ron held himself up with one hand, the other hand
moving to his cock, long fingers sliding up and down the shaft. Harry slid his
hand from Ron’s stomach and wrapped his fingers over Ron’s hand, the two of
them jerking him off together. He dropped light kisses across Ron’s shoulders,
realizing that the only thing wrong with this was that he couldn’t reach Ron’s
mouth.
He pressed his forehead between Ron’s shoulder blades, glasses digging into his
face again, as he came with uneven thrusts. He held tightly onto Ron’s hand
sliding along his cock, pressing himself as deep as he could inside him as he
finished. He lay spent on top of Ron, cock still twitching as Ron squeezed
around him. He whispered against Ron’s neck as Ron came, dirty words and
nonsense and endearments and a few I love yous.
Ron fell to the bed, Harry on top before he rolled to the side. They were both
motionless except for the heavy rise and fall of their chests, then Harry ran a
hand along the curve of Ron’s ass before letting it lie in the small of his
back. Ron moved his head so he was facing Harry, and he smiled. His eyes were
still sad, worried, much like Harry knew his own were. But they looked calmer,
more at ease than they had. Harry wanted to ask Ron had he connected the dots.
Instead he leaned forward and kissed him, sleepy and content being so near.
After a quick cleanup spell, Harry pushed his pajama bottoms all the way off
and tugged at Ron’s shirt until he got the hint and removed it. He wanted to
feel close to Ron, feel hot skin touching every part of his own, and he knew
Ron wanted the same. The sheets were pooled around their feet, Ron’s head lying
heavily on Harry’s shoulder. Harry leaned down and kissed the top of his damp,
messy hair and wrapped his arms around him. Ron pulled his arm out from Harry’s
embrace and placed it around Harry’s chest, interlacing their fingers in the
middle. Ron’s breathing was a constant comfort against his neck. He didn’t care
if anyone came in and saw them like this. He imagined that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley
would be furious, Sirius would be proud, Ginny and Hermione shocked, the twins
amused.
He ran a hand idly through Ron’s hair, eyes closed. Ron drew lazy circles on
his stomach with the tip of his index finger, lulling him to sleep. He wanted
to tell Ron he connected the dots, but instead fell asleep.
-fin
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