Chapter Text

Ron

Ron blearily opened his eyes, and there it was again, right in front of him. If he reached out, he might have been able to touch it and feel its heft.

He hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains of his bed last night, so now that he had woken up he was immediately greeted by a display he was unable to draw his eyes away from. The swell of his bollocks and the long, thick outline of his cock, snugly confined in Harry’s tight boxer briefs.

Standing right between their beds, Harry was getting dressed, but hadn’t managed more than his Gryffindor-red underpants just yet, his white shirt only half pulled on, still hanging loosely off his arms. Ron wanted to say that he hadn’t noticed how ample that package in Harry’s boxers had become over the last two years or so, that he had no interest in it. But he really had. Had both noticed it and developed an unexpected interest in it, and it had become significantly worse since the incident had happened.

It wasn’t like Ron had been trying to get a look at Harry’s dick on purpose in the past, he’d just gotten the occasional eyeful in a dorm shared by five teenage boys, completely unavoidable, really. Surely, everyone had risked a glance every now and then, just to make sure everything was in order down there and up to par in terms of…size and looks. You wouldn’t want to be the one with the weird dick after all. But then the incident had happened and Ron’s world had been flipped upside down.

He had stumbled upon Harry having a wank in the showers, so nothing too out of the ordinary, as they had all at some point found one of the other guys at an inopportune moment. But this time Harry hadn’t noticed him, clearly too focused on more important things. Ron hadn’t wanted to keep watching, he really hadn’t, but being mostly hidden by the door frame had been too good an opportunity and seeing Harry like that just too hard to ignore. He hadn’t even been aware that he was apparently also into blokes, but there was hardly any doubt after that day, since Ron would never forget how Harry had stood under the spray—hair wet, eyes closed, back against the slippery tiles—as he’d languidly double fisted his cock, his unexpectedly huge cock. One of Harry’s hands had wrapped around the base while the other was gliding over his thick shaft, making sure to always twist over the fat head and…anyway, that wasn’t the point here.

The point was that Ron still vividly remembered his shock from being suddenly confronted with a cock that seemed to be reaching double-digits, and if it didn’t, then it undoubtedly was just shy of that, or Ron would eat his broom. He had never seen it hard before, and while certainly above average when soft, there had never been any indication of it getting that big. And it truly was big, never mind the sheer length, there was a certain heft to it due to its thickness, Ron could tell just by looking. Even though he would've loved to feel it in his hands, just to make sure his observations were in fact correct.

Since that time he had been obsessed, unable to draw his gaze away from Harry’s crotch whenever it was in sight, like it had its own gravitational pull. And maybe that was true for a cock of that size, irresistibly leaving Ron at the mercy of the forces of nature.

Harry pulling up his trousers and hiding his package behind an additional layer of denim apparently killed that pull and brought Ron back from his trance-like state. He quickly closed his eyes, pretending to still be asleep so he didn’t get caught staring. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already done that enough in secret, observing how Harry’s package looked in different kinds of situations: simply the bulge in his underpants, the thick outline along his thigh in his pyjama bottoms, or the sway of it inside his grey joggers when he slipped them on sans underwear after taking a shower. It wasn’t just his cock either. One couldn’t notice his cock without also paying attention to his bollocks, how full his hand looked when he cupped them, trying to properly accommodate them in his boxers as he got dressed in the mornings.

Merely fantasising about Harry’s magnificent prick like that swiftly earned Ron a really bloody inconvenient boner beneath the covers. He needed to have a wank, again, which had become a rather frequent occurrence in recent weeks. Ron hadn’t gotten any real experience yet, but he always imagined his own cock surrounded by a mouth—or arse, as of late—when he rubbed one out. More recently, though, he had been getting more and more adventurous and had started playing with his bum, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a cock like Harry’s filling his hole. Harry seemed to have the kind of cock that would feel brilliant inside of him.

“You up, mate?” Harry then asked out of nowhere, abruptly pulling Ron from his errant thoughts. He had somehow appeared directly beside the bed to prod Ron’s leg with his fingers and only stopped once he’d gotten a grumbled response in confirmation. “All right, I’ll see you at breakfast then.”

The others went to breakfast shortly after Harry, the room falling silent in their wake, leaving Ron to deliberate for a moment longer how much he might enjoy Harry’s massive cock buried up his bum.

✶ ✶ ✶

Over the next few days it became exceedingly clear to Ron that it wasn’t just a weird obsession with Harry’s prick. Sure, that had set it all off, but he’d slowly come to the realisation that he wanted more, wanted all of it, that he wanted Harry. His best mate Harry.

That was a recipe for disaster if he’d ever seen one.

On the weekend, when they weren’t required to wear their school robes, he couldn’t help noticing the way that Harry’s shirts and jumpers clung to his strong back, well defined from countless hours on his broom during Quidditch practice. And that wasn’t even mentioning his arse. The hand-me-down jeans he was wearing were still too big on him and he sure as hell would never grow into that kind of size, but it left them hanging just off the top of his arse, framing the perfect swell of those muscled mounds just right and making them look like they would fit brilliantly into Ron’s hands. Unable to avert his eyes from the slight sway of arse and hips as Harry walked ahead of him, Ron’s unhelpful mind went full steam ahead, imagining how he wanted to settle his hands on those hips and slide his palms over that arse. Thank Merlin I’m trailing behind, he thought as he adjusted himself, futilely trying to hide his throbbing erection.

“Ron, what are you doing? If you fall back any further, I’ll have to send an owl,” Harry then said, looking back at Ron who had admittedly fallen behind by more than a few steps.

“Oh, sorry, mate. I mean…I’ve got a…,” Ron barely managed to stop his traitorous mouth before he could say ‘massive boner’ out loud. Instead, he quickly caught up with Harry, angling his hips slightly away from him, no matter how awkward that made him look. What wouldn’t he have given for his school robes in moments like this. “Er, I got lost in thought, don’t worry about it.”

Harry didn’t look convinced, but thankfully let it drop all the same. Hermione gave him a long, measuring look, and that was never a good thing, even if she hadn’t said anything…yet. There was no way he could look at them and not have them know, so he mulishly stared down at the floor in front of him. It was only a matter of time before one of them would ask him what his bloody problem was and then get right on putting the pieces together and then Ron would be well and truly fucked, and not in the way he liked to imagine as of late.

When Harry suddenly lifted his arms and began to stretch, Ron barely managed to avert his gaze in time. Every time he stretched like that or tried to reach for a book on an upper shelf his top would rise up, revealing a mouth-watering stripe of pale skin between his low-riding jeans and the hem of his jumper. Let alone that trail of dark hair, starting just below his navel before leading down and disappearing behind the waistband of Harry’s jeans, drawing Ron’s gaze right back towards the origin of his troubles.

It wasn’t just physical attraction, of course. Harry was a handsome bloke with his wild, black hair and mesmerisingly green eyes, no question about it, but he was also so much more than his looks. Harry was his best mate and undoubtedly the person he was most comfortable around, the one he couldn’t imagine not having at his side. While Harry often struggled with being particularly cheerful these days—unsurprising considering the stress and generally gloomy atmosphere their sixth year at Hogwarts had brought along—his rare smiles lit up Ron’s world and he wanted to protect them, as they were something to be cherished.

There was also his incredibly attractive cheekiness. For as long as Ron could remember Harry had been quite the little shit when he wanted to be, and Ron was always happy to see it when it occasionally flared up amongst all the gloominess, when Harry’s eyes were suddenly full of mirth. Even if he couldn’t afford to look him directly in the eyes in those moments, as there was no way to hide the love showing through his own.

✶ ✶ ✶

Then there was Quidditch practice later that day.

The practice itself was fine, mostly. While Harry sure was a sight for sore eyes on his broom, Ron could handle that, mostly. It was what came afterwards that was torture. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Harry after practice before, and yet it was so very different. The image of a leanly muscled Harry—wet and dripping after his shower, wearing nothing but a towel—would stay with Ron for a very long time. It also brought back that unforgettable image of Harry stroking his fat cock in the shower, because Ron clearly wasn’t suffering enough already. He had never dressed so fast before fleeing the locker room even faster.

As he sat outside in the Quidditch stands trying to gather his wits, his mind once again unhelpfully replayed everything, the memory of Harry’s wide shoulders and firm chest, how his dark nipples had been slightly stiff from entering the colder locker room after the hot shower, or how his abdominal muscles had steadily contracted with his breathing. How he had given Ron one of those rare, bright smiles that made his heart ache.

It was quiet in the stands, and Ron heard his blood rushing in his ears, felt the heat rising in his stomach and his heart racing in his chest as he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He desperately wanted to pull out his almost painfully hard dick and have a proper wank, right then and there.

How had his life turned into this? It was maddening.

✶ ✶ ✶

“So, out with it. What’s going on with you?” Hermione fired off immediately after she sank into the seat opposite him, Harry nowhere in sight.

Predictably, it had only taken a few days for Ron to end up in this sort of interrogation. It didn’t take long before he already felt his cheeks turn crimson. This was so embarrassing. “W-what do you mean?”

Hermione immediately gave him the kind of offensive look reserved for times when he acted like a complete buffoon. “Ronald Weasley, you better not play the fool with me. I want to know what is going on between you and Harry?”

“H-Harry?! Nothing’s going on with Harry. Why would you even think that?”

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh and Ron almost felt bad for her, but this was not something he could just talk about out in the open. He was making a fool of himself often enough already and he definitely didn’t need anybody to know that stupid Ron Weasley fancied his best mate, who happened to be the Harry Potter. He didn’t harbour any illusions about how well that would go down.

“All right, since you’re clearly uncooperative, you leave me no choice here. I’m just going to rip off the bandaid,” Hermione declared and Ron’s eyes widened in fear but she just surged ahead, paying no heed to his sensibilities. “It truly doesn’t take a genius to figure this out, the admittedly concerning amount of longing stares and miserable sighs is in all honesty rather telling. You like him, right? Like him as more than a friend? Fancy him?”

She then simply sat there like she hadn’t just launched a Bombarda Maxima directly into his face and calmly regarded him as if she could see how the cogs were turning in his head, frantically searching for a believable excuse and coming up with absolutely nothing. In the end, Ron’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He wouldn’t get out of this situation and could only brace himself and confess.

“So what if I do? Doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like he’s into blokes.”

“Wait, you think he’s straight?” Hermione asked, disbelief written all over her face.

“Well, he bloody well is, isn’t he?” Ron countered grumpily.

“Are you serious? At the Yule Ball he had no clue what to do with Parvati, and whatever he had going on with Cho last year was downright painful to watch,” Hermione explained, slightly grimacing at the memory of their fifth year. ”I think he has figured things out by now, though I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“I…I don’t know, does he really like blokes? I figured out things about myself only recently, I didn’t have time to figure him out on top of that, all right? And I didn’t want to get my hopes up, I guess. I just…what if I ruin things between us? He’s my best mate and I don’t want to make a fool out of him or myself.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Why would you be making a fool out of either one of you?”

“Harry is…well, he’s bloody Harry Potter, isn’t he? He’s amazing and everybody would want to be with him. He can hardly end up with me.”

“Nonsense. What is that supposed to mean anyway?”

“Can’t you understand?” Ron asked, frustration seeping into his voice. “I don’t want to ask him out and then listen to everybody running their mouths about how he could do so much better. He’s just out of my league.”

“You think Harry would care about their opinions?”

“No! He doesn’t care about that stuff, but I’d feel bad for him anyway. And I don’t want him to go out with me only because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“He wouldn’t go out with you just to spare your feelings,” Hermione refuted. “However, he would if he liked you, and it’s quite possible that he does.”

“You don’t mean that. Harry doesn’t fancy me,” Ron said and deflated slightly at his own admission. “I’d know it if he did, he isn’t exactly subtle with that sort of thing.”

“It’s different when it’s about yourself. You probably wouldn’t be able to tell even if he was openly pining after you. Which he’s not. But the way he looks at you from time to time when your attention is elsewhere…look, all I’m saying is that your prospects might not be as bleak as you think they are.”

“Fine, maybe I wouldn’t know. But he…he wouldn’t like me like that, I’m not really handsome or particularly good at anything, what would he even see in me?” Ron mumbled before he slumped into his chair and stared at the table.

“Oh, stop it,” Hermione growled and Ron could feel her glare on him. “Even if that were true, Harry isn’t superficial like that. Just…do something about this situation, all right? It really can’t go on like this. Out of everyone at this school you’ve known him the longest, you two have basically been attached at the hips ever since you met, so if anyone has a chance it would be you.”

Ron’s heart started beating faster after that revelation, even if he didn’t quite dare to believe it yet. When he finally gathered the courage to look her in the eyes again, he understood that she truly meant every word. A knot formed in his chest, right around Ron’s heart, and he felt like there was a lump in his throat.

“I’ll…I’ll try, all right? But it needs to be in the right moment, I can’t do this half-arsed.”

“Fine, but don’t intentionally drag your feet on this,” Hermione allowed, before letting out another long-suffering sigh. “Boys!”

Ron wisely kept his mouth shut, even if he’d seen what kind of drama often unfolded between the girls and thus knew that they were hardly any better. Remembering all that romantic drama from the female side of their dorm, another thought came to his mind.

“Er, do you have someone you’re interested in, or…?” he awkwardly asked after a moment.

“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said, blithely dismissing that train of thought with a wave of her hand. “Where would I find the time for a boyfriend? I have my hands full with my studies and keeping you two out of trouble.”

“Uh, right, silly question. Forget that I asked.”

✶ ✶ ✶

It was a terrible idea.

Ron knew it, but he also had appalling impulse control, and so he checked the Marauder’s Map regardless. Watching the dot labelled Harry Potter move towards the Quidditch Pitch, he just knew that this was going to turn into an absolute disaster. Of course, he would follow him anyway. Harry had left the Common Room again, and Ron needed to know where he had been disappearing to over the last weeks, even if he wasn’t so sure that he actually wanted to know where he went, or with whom he met. Of course, Harry could just be getting himself into trouble as usual, it was possible, but he didn’t genuinely believe that to be the case.

Hastily, he decided on a reasonably clean jumper by sniffing it—the tried and trusted testing method used by teenage boys all around the world—and then pulled it on, before rushing out of the dorms and towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Once he arrived at the pitch, he didn’t find anyone outside or in the stands. The only other place Harry might have gone was the locker room, so he decided to check that out next. As he approached the Gryffindor side of the locker rooms, he could already hear soft voices, one of them distinctively Harry’s, and the other…was that Ritchie Coote? One of their new Beaters who joined this year?

Merlin, he wasn’t sure what he was even doing here, it wasn’t his business what Harry might be getting up to with Coote. He could hazard a guess anyway, after what Hermione had revealed to him about Harry figuring out his interests. And standing right outside the locker room, he was even less sure whether he needed to see that.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer to listen more carefully to the sounds trickling outside. He couldn’t make out exactly what was happening in there, but he needed to find out, so he cast a Silencing Charm on his shoes and a Disillusionment Charm on his whole body, before slowly edging closer inside. He wasn’t very good at the latter Charm yet, however, he hadn’t been willing to just take Harry’s Invisibility Cloak without asking, so he could only hope that the Disillusionment Charm would suffice in the low light surroundings.

Dimly illuminated, he found the familiar view of the Gryffindor locker room once he had stepped trough the door. Everything looked just as usual, with the exception of the two boys currently inside, Gryffindor team captain and Seeker Harry Potter and Beater Ritchie Coote.

Ron froze and his mouth went dry as he processed the scene that took place right in the middle of the locker room. Swallowing heavily, he reached down to rearrange the growing erection in his trousers. He reminded himself—again—that he really wasn’t supposed to be here. And still, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from them.

On one of the benches, laid out on his belly and completely naked, was Coote. His legs were spread wide open, falling off the sides of the narrow bench, and while the view of what happened behind him was partially hidden by Coote’s body, Ron could see it well enough to know that Harry was eating him out. And that sure as hell answered the question whether Harry was into blokes or not.

Ron could admit that Coote looked hot, really hot, but his jealousy didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. If Hermione was right, and she usually was, then that could be him—should be him—Harry was eating out, him he was opening up to take his cock. At least it could’ve been him, since he was apparently too late now and Harry had already found someone else.

By the sound of the moans, Coote was enjoying every moment of it. Suppressing a moan of his own, he squeezed his cock through his trousers and adjusted his stance a little.

Ron had no idea how long he had been standing there, watching how Harry gave Coote a thorough rimming, before switching to fingering him open. He was shaken out of his enraptured haze when Harry rose up behind Coote, who whined a bit pathetically at the loss of Harry’s fingers and earned himself a slap to his arse for his trouble.

“You know the rule. If you want something you need to ask for it,” Ron heard Harry say, slightly bent down so he was close to Coote’s ear. Ron was sure that Coote had to have goose-bumps from hearing Harry’s voice so close, he had them and he was standing over by the doorway.

Coote licked his lips, eyes widened in delight. “I…I can do that. I can ask for things.”

Harry smiled. “Good. Then, what do you want, Ritchie? Why don’t you tell your captain what you need? It’s my job to take care of the team, you know.”

“Uh, I…I want you to fuck me…Captain. Please.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Bloody Hell. What was he witnessing here? Ron had his doubts about this being part of the job description for Quidditch Captain. However, he certainly wouldn’t argue if Harry wanted to take care of him like that, he was the Keeper after all.

It didn’t take long before Harry gave Coote what he wanted. Enraptured, Ron watched as Harry stood above him, a leg on each side of the bench and one hand braced against the small of Coote’s back while the other guided his fat cock to Coote’s lubed entrance, slowly letting the ruddy, pale length disappear between the two dark mounds of the Beater’s arse.

There was a long second where Coote’s face was just pressed to the bench, and he didn’t say anything, probably couldn’t say anything, just lay there, panting and feeling Harry fill him up. Ron didn’t want to hate Coote, he really tried his best, Harry wasn’t his boyfriend after all, no matter how much that irked him. But he was angry. At Coote, at himself, maybe even a little bit at Harry, even if he didn’t know why, his emotions were all over the place. He was so bloody jealous he wanted to scream.

Harry went slow for a minute or so, letting the other boy get used to it, but then angled his hips slightly differently and started slamming into Coote with increasingly forceful thrusts, hard enough to slightly rock the bench across the floor. Coote’s fingers were clinging tightly to the edges of the bench before his eyes rolled back and sweat started dripping down his temples as he simply took each hard thrust of Harry’s thick cock.

Coote whined and moaned, even let out a muffled cry as he pressed his face against his arm. The bench continued to scratch across the floor with a noise loud enough that Ron hoped Harry had silenced the room beforehand. Then Harry leant over him, letting his hands run up the warm brown expanse of Coote’s back, before tangling them in Coote’s hair and pulling his head back.

“Let me hear you. No need to muffle your moans.”

Which probably meant that the locker room was in fact silenced. Ron gripped himself through his trousers as he watched Harry take the other boy apart. He was so bloody hard that it almost hurt, and rubbing himself through two layers of fabric only brought him the smallest amounts of relief. With difficulty he managed to fumble a hand past his waistband, wrapping tightly around his throbbing erection, just as Harry suddenly pulled out of Coote, much to the other’s audible displeasure.

“Up, come on,” Harry instructed.

Ron’s eyes were glued to the other two boys as Harry wrapped his hands around Coote’s torso and lifted him up. He then guided him over to a stretch of wall that wasn’t blocked by lockers and benches.

“Hands against the wall.”

Coote didn’t need to be told twice since he was apparently well accustomed to these proceedings, Ron realised with gritted teeth. Harry’s foot tapped against the inside of Coote’s calfs, urging him to widen his stance, before Harry held onto his hip with one hand while the other guided his cock back to Coote’s hole.

Positioning themselves against the wall meant that the door was to the side of them now, giving Ron a perfect view on how that long and thick cock smoothly slid back into Coote’s hole until Harry’s groin was pressed flush against his cheeks. Ron’s own hole clenched eagerly at the thought of that being him instead.

Harry stood still for a moment, but then started to roll his hips again when the Beater insistently bucked his arse against him, clearly demanding more action. Harry pulled out until he was barely still inside him, then roughly slammed back into him. Every time he bottomed out, hips colliding against the soft flesh of Coote’s arse, a lewd slapping sound echoed within the locker room.

Once again, Ron considered leaving. He had already seen more than enough and none of it brought him any joy or was his business to begin with. And yet, against his better judgement, he stood rooted to his spot, unable to tear his eyes away.

Harry continued with rough but only moderately fast thrusts, pushing in deep and making Coote feel every inch of his fat cock. Coote whined at each movement, but soon tried to push back against Harry, urging him to go faster.

“Please, harder,” he pleaded, “faster, do me faster.”

Ron could see Harry’s devious smile and it did unspeakable things to him. Why wouldn’t Harry smile at him like that?

“Then take what you need. Fuck yourself on my cock however hard or fast you want,” Harry told him as he released Coote’s hips from his grasp.

Coote wasted no time in doing just that. He started slowly at first, rolling his hips back and fucking himself on Harry’s cock, but soon sped up, establishing a more punishing pace, each thrust becoming faster and rougher than the last. Harry remained still, contend to simply watch Coote’s hole swallow his fat cock and listen to the soft moans he was drawing out of him.

Ron didn’t know where to look or whether he should be looking at all. Never had he felt envy like this before. He wanted—needed—Harry inside of him, fucking him just like he was fucking Coote. His prick was leaking against his fingers and into his pants and his hole was clenching idly around nothing simply from imagining how Harry’s cock would feel. The long, rough thrusts would be slowly driving him towards his climax and the thick cock sliding along his rim would leave his hole fluttering in want. He needed those hands on his hips, taking control of him and pulling him back onto that cock, pushing deep inside him. He needed to feel his hole loosen and tighten around the impressive length, drawing him in, again and again, until Harry flooded his insides with his load.

“Fuck, I’m—,” Coote gasped, finally drawing Ron’s focus back to the activities before him.

“All right, you can come,” Harry said, before he grabbed onto Coote’s hips again and went back to fucking him with rough and deep thrusts, bringing him closer and closer to his climax.

Coote let out a loud, shuddering moan not long after Harry’s words. One of his hands was furiously stroking his cock until he pulled his fist back to the base of his shaft one final time and held it there. Ron watched as his cock pulsed and several spurts of come shot out from the tip, splattering against the wall and the floor. It looked so intense he barely managed to stop himself from both moaning out loud and directly coming into his pants.

Meanwhile, Harry had grabbed Coote’s hips even firmer, pulling him back onto his cock with harsh, short snaps of his hips, chasing his own release. It didn’t take much longer before Ron was able to watch how the muscles of Harry’s arse tensed as his cock pulsed inside Coote’s hole, and he wished with all of his heart that he could feel it for himself.

He glanced down at himself, how his his hand disappeared behind his waistband, putting pressure onto the base of his dick and barely managing to stave off soiling his pants. He couldn’t say how he’d managed to hold on, but somehow he had.

Harry gently pulled out of Coote’s thoroughly fucked hole, allowing some of his come to spill out when the thick head slipped free.

“Come on, let’s go have a shower,” Harry said while giving Coote’s arse a light smack. He grabbed Coote around the waist and guided him towards the shower room, as the other boy was still a bit shaky on his legs after the pounding he had just received.

Still dazed by what he had just witnessed, Ron’s own legs felt a bit wobbly, even if he hadn’t gotten fucked within an inch of his life. He watched them leave for the showers and simply stood still for another minute or so. Only then did he slowly move back towards the door—taking a quick look outside to make sure that the coast was clear—and hurriedly left the locker rooms. He undid the Disillusionment Charm and tried to get his thoughts in order while determinedly ignoring his hard cock still straining against his trousers.

Well, at least it hadn’t been that tosser McLaggen, Ron thought once he was on his way back to the castle. Even if the comfort that fact provided him was hardly anything to write home about.

✶ ✶ ✶

Ron was unbelievably frustrated by the time he made it back to his bed. Frustrated and horny, as he had so very cleverly avoided coming into his pants while he was watching them.

He threw himself onto his bed and rested his hands on his belly, drumming his fingers against his shirt agitatedly. He still couldn’t process everything he had experienced within the last hour, definitely couldn’t make it unseen, and needed to clear his head first. And what could better help him achieve that other than finally having that long overdue, proper wank?

He chewed at his lip as he glanced towards his bed’s still open curtains, then took his wand and spelled them shut and silent a moment later. While the idea of Harry walking in on him was kind of hot, he had an inkling that the reality of things would be much more awkward and humiliating compared to his fantasies. Better safe than sorry surely was the way to go here.

He conjured a magic light in the relative darkness behind the curtains and let it float above him. As he then pulled off his shirt he absently wondered if Harry and Coote were already finished cleaning up and on their way back or if things had continued in the showers. Imagining that shower scene, a soft moan escaped his lips while he slid down the waistband of his boxer briefs. He started to squirm slightly when his bare arse came into contact with the pleasantly cool sheets. His already hard dick smacked against his belly once it had finally passed the waistband. He had been leaking into his pants so much that his knob was already slick and shiny.

Sliding his hand down his belly and between his legs, Ron slowly palmed himself, tipped his head back and let his mind wander back to Harry, banishing any thought of Coote at the same time. He imagined him lying on his bed, mostly naked but maybe with his shirt still on, as neither of them would have been willing to spent the time to pull it off in their haste to touch each other. The front would be unbuttoned though, revealing Harry’s firm chest and abs, and of course his long and thick cock.

Ron groaned as he remembered how that fat cock had plunged into Coote’s arse and drawn moan after moan out of him. He gave himself a few good strokes and sighed, the images of Harry in his mind changing, morphing into a new scene, one where Coote was gone again and Ron was straddling Harry, riding him, gasping as he tried to take all of Harry’s cock. Harry’s hands would be on his hips, gently guiding him, sliding down to his thighs, squeezing, encouraging him.

He twisted his fist around his knob, but frowned a second later because it didn’t feel quite right. Instinctively, his hand travelled further down between his legs and his fingers tentatively began to probe at his hole. As he started rubbing on his entrance he felt his body react almost immediately. The heat in his groin flared up again and his dick started leaking onto his belly. He kept going, circling his rim and increasing the pressure, but as good as that felt, without lube his fingers wouldn’t even get close to where he needed them.

Taking his wand, he quickly cast the Lubrication Charm onto his fingers, coating them rather liberally. It wasn’t a secret to him that one didn’t skimp on the lube for these sorts of applications. He brought his now well-lubed fingers back to his clenching entrance and added some force to it, moaning audibly when he felt one of his fingers suddenly slip inside. His hole twitched around him and his hips started to push against his finger without any deliberate input from himself, forcing it deeper inside his sweltering passage all on their own. Yes! Merlin’s saggy balls, that was exactly what he needed!

It didn’t take long before his finger was pushing in as far as it could reach. He shuddered slightly whenever he came close to that good spot deep inside him, though never quite reaching it with his wrist at such an odd angle. Nevertheless, he gently tried to push in a second finger and was rewarded with the stretched feeling that a single finger couldn’t provide on its own.

But as much as his hole clearly loved his fingers sliding in and out of him, the position wasn’t the most comfortable and he needed just a bit more, go just a bit deeper. He’d thought about trying something new for a couple days or weeks already and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to simply go for it.

Decision made, Ron rolled over to the side of his bed, pulling the curtains open to scan his bedside table for something he could use. Thankfully, there was an empty inkwell he’d forgotten to put away. Picking it up, he withdrew back behind the curtains without any further delay. He didn’t need anything else for his purposes.

Once he had settled against the pillows again he picked up his wand and aimed it at the inkwell. Ron’s brows furrowed as he concentrated on getting the spell right. Imagining what he wanted the inkwell to become, its new shape, material and texture, he carefully cast the Transfiguration Spell. A second later he observed how the inkwell changed before his eyes, how it morphed to assume its new shape and how the glass became soft and opaque, then took on a Gryffindor-red colour.

When the process was finally done, Ron could immediately tell that the spell had been a roaring success. In front of him lay a beautiful and sizeable dildo, just as he had imagined it. Initially, he had considered making it an exact replica of Harry’s cock but quickly had thought better of it. Shoving something that size up his bum for his first time was probably not the wisest choice, he wasn’t that confident in his ability to take such a big dick right away. He hadn’t gotten all the practice in the world like Coote after all, he thought grumpily. Shaking his head and chasing away the unpleasant thoughts, he focused back on his great Transfiguration achievement.

Taken as a whole the thing was still quite sizeable. He estimated it to be around eight inches long, perhaps a bit less, and reasonably thick. When he picked it up he found it firm but still somewhat flexible. His fingers were able to squeeze it slightly and then close around the shaft just fine, something he doubted he would be able to do with Harry’s prick. And the right thickness was key here. He could control how deep it went but not how much it would stretch him, so he was rather happy with how it had come out.

He was planning to use the Locomotion Charm to make it move on its own. Briefly, he even thought about going for the advanced version of it—Piertotum Locomotor—that truly brought objects to life and imparted the caster’s will onto them. However, he was afraid that with his current state of mind, with his horniness cranked up to eleven, the thing might get the wrong idea and deliver the most intense pounding imaginable for his first time trying it out, so he had reconsidered. It was just too much of a risk with an unpractised spell. He could do well without being unable to sit down for a week, that would simply be mortifying.

The normal Locomotion Charm on the other hand just made objects do simple motions, like a nice back and forth to move a dildo in and out of an inexperienced hole such as his own. It was obviously the bespoke solution here.

Holding it firmly in his hand, Ron considered sucking on the fake cock, but then quickly decided he’d rather try that on the real thing and that he needed this fake one somewhere else much more urgently anyway. He’d already wasted enough time and he wanted it in his hole now, wanted to feel his hole stretched around the thick girth as it pushed deep inside him.

Swiftly casting another Lubrication Charm onto the makeshift dildo, he lay back against the pillows and positioned it between his legs, aligned it with his entrance and couldn’t help but shiver slightly once the bulbous head touched his puckered hole. Common sense dictated that he had to take at least a moment to try this out by hand and get used to the sensation, before he could even think about casting any spells for autonomous movement on the thing.

Teasingly, he started to circle it around his rim while mentally preparing himself for the next step, to experience something so big inside him for the first time. He closed his eyes and thought back to the scene in the shower, where he had seen Harry’s hard dick for the first time, and his surprise at how big it was. He imagined how that dick would feel inside him as he began to push the dildo against his hole more firmly. A soft moan escaped his lips when he felt his well-lubed hole reluctantly yield to the intrusion, allowing the flared head to breach his entrance and finally slip inside.

Keeping one hand on the end of the dildo, he slowly guided it further inside of himself, the path an easy glide thanks to copious amounts of lube. A soft whimper escaped him and his breathing picked up, before turning into a loud moan when the flared head finally brushed against that spot he hadn’t been able to reach until now. He could feel himself tighten around the fake cock as he started to carefully pull it back and then pushed it inside again.

Ron groaned at the feeling, his cock pulsing between his thighs where it rested against his belly. His erection had flagged somewhat after the initial penetration, too many new sensations going on at once, but was now leaking profusely again, even in its slightly softened state. He wanted to grab it and jerk himself back to full hardness, but he was already too busy dealing with the dildo and all the sensations that it entailed.

Gradually, he became adjusted to the stretch and began to push more and more of the length inside him, until the dildo’s wide base was finally pressed flush against his quivering hole, filling him completely. After taking a moment to get accommodated to having the entire thing inside of him, he began to slowly fuck himself with his toy, savouring the new feeling which was exactly what he had been missing for so long.

However, it wasn’t long before his wrist was aching from the odd angle and he became too horny to continue like this for much longer. He didn’t have the patience for it, he just wanted to be fucked. Surely, he was stretched enough by now and it would be fine to try the Locomotion Charm. What could even go wrong? Spreading his legs some more, he took his wand into his unoccupied hand and aimed it at the dildo that was still halfway inside him.

“Loco—hah—locomotor,” Ron stammered breathlessly. Immediately, his heart leapt into his throat, as he was painfully aware of the fact that he had botched the spell’s incantation. He’d imagined a gentle back and forth movement, however, what he got was anything but.

“Unghf,” Ron gasped as even the initial thrust hit him with so much more power than expected that it made him drop his wand somewhere on the bed, proving his dreadful premonition right.

Hastily, he rolled over onto his stomach and got up on his hands and knees, reaching for his lost wand, but the next thrust was delivered even more forceful, plunging deep into his unsuspecting, virgin hole. His arms buckled under him and he collapsed back onto his chest, and with an odd mix of both apprehension and anticipation he realised that he’d be in for a much rougher ride than he was prepared for.

His hands clenched at the sheets and he grunted and moaned as the rogue toy started to fuck him however it bloody well pleased. What a sight he had to make with his face buried in the pillows and his arse raised up high, getting railed within an inch of his life by a renegade dildo. Thankfully, the curtains were closed and no one else was in the room. He’d never be able to live that down if someone were to find him like this.

But even with the situation all messed up as it was, he decided to make the best of it and slowly began to relax his inner muscles, groaning at the pleasant burn he got from his hole trying to accommodate the thick, red intruder. Steadily breathing in and out, he spread his legs even wider and moaned in pleasure as the dildo continued to slam into him with abandon. There was nothing to be found of the slow and steady rhythm he had intended to cast on that thing, instead it was thrusting in and out of his slick hole faster and harder than he’d thought himself capable of enduring. But to his surprise it didn’t take all that long before his hole had loosened sufficiently and he started to take the toy rather swimmingly, even enjoying it when the dildo pulled out completely, leaving him empty and gaping, and moaning when it then plunged back inside, sliding in deep and striking his prostate dead on every single time.

Ron’s pleasure-muddled mind started to wander, imagining it was Harry behind him, roughly grabbing his hips and fucking into him, watching how his thick cock got swallowed by his best mate’s clenching hole. The mere thought of Harry desiring him like that compelled him to arch his back and bury his face into the pillows to silence his needy moans. There were no words for how much he wanted that, and there was no doubt that Harry would tell him how well he was doing, how he was taking his big cock with ease, and how perfect his hot passage felt around Harry’s cock. Ron couldn’t stifle a low whine and his toes were curling as he imagined all the lewd positions Harry would fuck him in and all the loving words Harry would say to him.

He was so lost in pleasure he barely registered that the dildo had picked up the pace even further, as if it knew exactly what he needed. His own cock had gotten hard again not long after the pounding had started, quite obviously loving what was happening to him given the way it bobbed between his thighs, continually leaking onto the sheets with each hard and deep thrust the magical dildo delivered.

At this point he had completely given up on trying to get his hands on his wand. Even keeping himself somewhat quiet had become an almost impossible task because he was enjoying it far too much. His eyes had become unfocused and his breathing had devolved into short and rough pants. Any thought of stopping the current proceedings had gone out the window a while ago.

The dildo’s rhythmic thrusts sent bursts of heat through his overworked body and he felt his hole tightening every time it slid home, occasionally withdrawing so far that only the flared head kept it from slipping past his rim, and then plunging back in, harder and deeper, making use of its full length. Ron reached between his thighs and grabbed his cock, hot and hard and ready to burst. He was so close.

Spreading his legs even wider, he started stroking himself in time with the relentless thrusts and raised his arse, shoving his arse backwards and meeting every one of those thrusts with equal force. The slick sounds of the dildo slamming in and out of him got louder and louder in concert with his moans as he got closer and closer.

His thoughts strayed back to Harry and he imagined Harry’s fingers digging into his hips—leaving bruises for him to admire the next morning—as he kept on pumping in and out of Ron’s arse, making his skin tingle all over. He was so sensitive now that the mental image of Harry pounding into him was enough to tip him over the edge. All of his muscles tensed up, bracing for what was to come, and his hole gripped onto the dildo tightly, as if it was trying to keep it inside as deep as possible.

“H-Harry!” Ron spasmed as he came with a desperate cry of Harry’s name, splattering his come in several large spurts all over his bedsheets. The dildo surprisingly slowed its pace then but continued nonetheless, helping him to ride out his orgasm and the aftershocks, slowly sliding in and out of his oversensitive and erratically clenching hole. And then it finally stopped, slipping out of him and dropping onto the bed, sending another shiver down his spine. Ron let go of his now softening length and bonelessly flopped down on the bed right after.

He had no clue how much of that spell had gone wrong, but his apparent intention to get fucked until he came harder than ever before thankfully had still somehow made it through. He didn’t know if it had stopped because that goal had been achieved after he had come, but he thanked Magic itself that it did. And it truly had to be the hardest Ron had ever come, at least he couldn’t remember it being like this ever before. He grimaced when the wet sensation he felt against his belly told him exactly how much he had come, as he had collapsed right into it.

He could still feel his abs contracting in time with his ragged breathing, but he was slowly calming down. He’d gotten railed by a magical dildo that he was unable to stop because he had botched the spell, and to cap it all off he had loved every second of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what that might say about him, but at any rate, he was too exhausted to examine that dubious realisation in more detail.

Mustering his last reserves, he finally got his hands on his wand again and tiredly cast a Cleaning Charm on himself and the mess underneath him. He wasn’t going to sleep in it no matter how exhausted he was. Once he felt clean and comfortable again, he simply pulled up the blankets, absolutely certain that he’d be out cold in no time.

Soon, Ron drifted off to sleep, deeply satisfied and with a pleasant ache in his bum, all sorrows forgotten for the moment.