Strange Cocks and Stranger's Come

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Summary: Ron doesn't know how much longer he can keep pretending.

Ships: RonWeasleyxHarryPotter

All credit goes to lumosdrabbles (lumosatnight)

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It was Ron who had suggested it, but it was Harry who had agreed.

Now, it was months later and too late for things to change. Even if he wanted them to. Even if he needed them to. These few moments of secretive pleasure, Ron didn't want to give them up even if it was killing him.

"I'll just be going to the loo."

Harry gave a hum of acknowledgement but didn't look away from his glass.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. "Uh, yeah. See you soon."

Their gazes lingered, stretching out between them, reeling Ron's body closer.

Harry looked away first, taking a large gulp of his drink. Harry was his best friend, his brother-in-arms, his Auror partner. Ron didn't want to break this fragile thing between them, but he didn't know how much longer he could take.

Ron stood from the bar and snuck into the back hallway where the dark curtains hid lewd moans and even lewder acts. He settled himself in the furthest stall and pulled the curtain closed, the metal rings scraping against the beam.

There was a hole in the wall, perfectly round, unnervingly simple. Steadying his breath, he unzipped his trousers and took out his cock. All it took was a few strokes to have him hard and leaking. He had been thinking about this all day.

After exactly sixteen seconds, he heard someone enter the next stall. Knees hit the floor. A puff of air ghosted through the hole in the wall.

Ron slowly fed his cock through the hole, the stranger's lips closing around him. He ignored the slight musky scent of the stranger — familiar aftershave and fresh roast and broom polish. He ignored the slight stubble on his chin when Ron's dick popped out and wiped across his face.

The stranger took him to the back of his throat and hummed.

Ron ignored the familiar sound. It wasn't like he had heard it every day for the past however many years — at his desk, over pints, at school.

The stranger sucked him, flicking his tongue and tightening his lips.

When Ron came, he ignored the image that popped into his head — of dark curls and green eyes and a full-lipped smile. He focused on the wet mouth, the eager lips sucking his cock, the gurgled moans of the stranger.

After he finished, he slumped against the wall, hands braced on either side. He felt satisfied but not. Because this was all he could ever have. He could never have more. He could never have Harry.

With a sigh, Ron knelt on the cushions on the ground. It was his turn to reciprocate, and he wasn't about to be labelled an inconsiderate lover. He opened his mouth, ready to receive the stranger's cock, but who was he kidding anymore? It wasn't a stranger at all.

When Harry's cock came through the hole, Ron swallowed it down and tried not to think about his best friend on the other side of the wall.


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