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hp_goldenageTitle: Darling, It's Never Too Late
Author:![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
webofdreams89
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Ron
Rating: E
Word Count: 2771
Content/Warning(s): sex, referenced child abuse, referenced racism
Summary/Prompt: "I was just wondering why you never settled down. You're a catch, mate, and I don't mean because you're Harry fucking Potter, but because you're you."
"Because I've been in love with you since we were kids, Ron."
A/N: This was a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy!
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry hummed to himself as he prepared dinner. Ron would be home before too long and would no doubt be hungry after a long day slinging lattes and cappuccinos at the coffee shop he opened in Diagon Alley. Harry had popped in during his lunch break and was greeted with a line nearly out the door. When Harry finally reached the front of the line, he watched Ron light up and had to fight the flush threatening to spread across his cheeks.
Fifty-one years old and his best friend could still make him blush like a schoolboy. But then again, he’d been in love with Ron since he was a schoolboy, so things weren’t likely to change at this point.
“Do you need any help?” Harry asked when he reached the front of the line.
Chuckling, Ron said, “I still remember what happened the last time I let you help out.” Involving a blistering burn from the steam wand on the back of Harry’s hand, several dropped pastries, and closing his fingers in the cash register drawer, Harry wasn’t likely to forget either. “Besides, don’t you have your own business to run?”
“True,” Harry said, thinking of the massive broom order for the Wimbourne Wasps Harry had due by the end of next week. “At this point, I think I’m looking for any excuse to take a break from it. There’s only so long I can concentrate on broom bristles before I start going cross eyed with a migraine.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron said, “Harry, you know you’ll regret it if you put off that order.”
Sighing dramatically, Harry said, “I suppose you’re right.”
“It’s been known to happen on occasion.”
Ron slid Harry’s coffee thermos across the counter to him, the strong scent of coffee wafting up and making Harry’s mouth water almost as much as watching Ron’s arms flex as he moved about behind the counter.
“Make sure you’re home on time. I’m making your favorite,” Harry said, ripping his eyes away from Ron’s arms.
“Marry me, Harry,” Ron said, clutching his chest.
Harry forced a smile. It must have been noticeable because Ron’s brow furrowed. “You couldn’t handle me, Weasley.” Ron’s brow smoothed out.
“Don’t I know it.”
Harry waved and left the coffee shop quickly, hoping that Ron didn’t notice how weird he was being.
Harry sighed, refocusing on chopping the potatoes. Sure, he was good enough at healing magic by now that he could easily heal himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted to cut himself by any means. Not to mention the fact that, no matter how magically talented, blood was bloody hard to get out of fabrics. Hermione, bless her, could probably tell him why.
“That smells fantastic,” Ron said, as he stepped through the Floo fifteen minutes later. He walked over to peer down into the pot of curry Harry had simmering on the stove. “How do you keep getting better and better at cooking, mate?”
Harry chuckled. “I’m just glad I finally live with someone that appreciates my cooking.”
Ron’s face darkened, no doubt thinking about the Dursleys and Harry’s last live-in boyfriend. Andrew hadn’t liked Harry’s “ethnic” dishes, ones he uncovered from the main Potter vault all lovingly written in a notebook by his grandmother Euphemia. Needless to say, Harry dropped him like a hot potato for that comment.
Ron still got riled up on Harry’s behalf whenever Andrew or the Dursleys were brought up.
Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, conveying the fact that he really didn’t want to talk about them. Ron nodded and turned his attention back to the pot. “Well, I enjoy your cooking no matter what you make. It’s all fucking delicious.”
Harry’s lips quirked up. “Is that why you moved in with me, mate?” he asked cheekily.
After Ron and Hermione’s divorce a few years ago, Ron moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, something Harry could never regret no matter how in love with Ron Harry was. Between having a constant companion in an otherwise lonely home life and the constant hyping of Harry’s cooking skills, living with Ron was a dream. Neither of them seemed inclined to end the arrangement because they got along great, spending their evenings listening to Quidditch matches on the wireless or watching the TV Harry rigged up or reading. Harry was always on the lookout for magic to improve his brooms and Ron had taken an interest in warding over the last few years, strengthening Grimmauld’s wards until not even a fly could get through them.
Ron huffed and rolled his eyes. “Obviously. And it shows too,” he said, patting his belly. Ron might have lines around his eyes and mouth and gray interspersed with his red hair, but he looked just as gorgeous to Harry as he did at eighteen. Maybe even more so because now he looked distinguished.
“As if you aren’t as fit now as you were at thirty,” Harry blurted out. His eyes widened when he realized what he said, hoping against hope Ron wouldn’t read too much into it.
Running a hand through his short hair, Ron chuckled. “Thanks, Harry. Erm, so are you, you know?”
Harry blushed, turning his attention back to the simmering pot. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and dipped it inside. “Taste?” he asked.
Ron wasted no time closing his lips around the spoon, his eyes on Harry the entire time. Harry gulped and could only hope his skin tone was enough to hide what was surely a fantastic blush.
“Mm, delicious,” Ron said as he pulled away.
“Th-thanks,” Harry said. Ron smiled.
*
With Harry and Ron sitting across from each other and chatting about their days, dinner was cozy the way it always was. Despite the electric lights Harry managed to get to run on magic, Ron lit a couple of candles and poured them each a glass of wine. Harry felt warm and happy the way he always did in Ron’s presence and had to fight the thought of how this felt a lot like a date.
Ron pushed away his bowl. “I can’t eat anymore,” he groaned, making Harry smile.
“Not even room for dessert? I made chocolate cake,” Harry teased.
“You’re trying to kill me, Potter,” Ron said, though he seemed to give a slice of cake serious consideration. “Nope, it’ll have to wait.”
Laughing, Harry replied, “Fair enough.”
He watched Ron grab his wine glass and take a sip, his eyes intent on Harry in a way that made Harry squirm in his chair. Ron had that look like he was about to say something, and Harry wasn’t sure he would like it.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked. “Something personal?”
Harry forced a smile. “It’s never stopped you before, mate.”
Ron smiled before his face smoothed into a considering expression. “True. I was just wondering why you never settled down. You’re a catch, mate, and I don’t mean because you’re Harry fucking Potter, but because you’re you.”
Harry swallowed. “I have settled down before,” he said, thinking back on Andrew and his string of exes, both wizard and Muggle alike. “It just didn’t take.”
“I suppose,” Ron said, “but you never seemed into them all that much. You never seem to mourn your relationships much. Why?”
Harry was silent. He knew he could lie, make up a plausible half-truth or lie, but Ron would see right through that. He knew Harry better than anyone and always knew when Harry was dishonest with him. Ron might not call him out on it, but it would still hurt to be dishonest with him.
Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face. Now was the time to finally come clean. He just hoped it didn’t change things between them. Harry grasped his wine glass and took a long swig before meeting Ron’s eye. “I was never able to give it my all in those relationships.”
The corners of Ron’s lips turned down. “Why not?” he asked softly.
It was now or never. “Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Ron.”
Silence. Ron’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open, making him look a bit like the fish at the Sea Life Aquarium Harry used to take Teddy, Rose, Hugo, and various Weasley grandchildren to see when they were kids.
“Oh,” Ron finally said softly. Then he got up and rounded the table until he stood in front of Harry.
For a wild moment, Harry thought Ron was going to hit him, though he knew that Ron would never do that.
Instead, Ron’s tilted Harry’s chin up until their eyes met. “Harry,” Ron said in that same soft voice. “I don’t wanna waste anymore time,” Ron whispered, tucking a long curl behind Harry’s ear.
“W-what?”
A wide smile spread across Ron’s face. “Can I kiss you, mate?”
“You…you really mean that?” Harry asked, his voice small. He felt like he was a teenager again, Dean asking to kiss him after Harry took him to the Yule Ball. At least this time Seamus wouldn’t be glaring daggers at him the entire time.
Ron’s brow furrowed. “More than anything,” he said. “I’ve loved you for a long time too, Harry Potter. Hermione knew. That's why she asked for a divorce, to give you and me a chance.”
“That Hermione,” Harry murmured, once again thankful for her friendship over the years. “But that was years ago.”
“Yeah,” Ron admitted. “I mean, I needed time to get over my twenty-five year marriage first. And then I wanted to date around a bit, get used to the idea of being with men. I knew I liked women, but liking men was still a bit of a foreign concept to me no matter how long I’ve loved you. Though to be fair, I didn’t realize it most of the time.”
“You’ve dated men?” Harry sputtered, his eyebrows drawing together. Surely he would remember if Ron had gone on a date with a guy.
Ron chuckled. “You remember Sam? And Alex? I know you never actually met them, but I thought you’d have figured it out.”
“In my defense, Sam and Alex are pretty gender neutral names. I thought they were women,” Harry said. He felt like his heart might explode in his chest. Ron liked men. Not just men; Ron liked him.
“No, I love you, Harry,” Ron said, cupping Harry’s cheek, his thumb running along Harry’s bottom lip. Oops, Harry hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“I love you too,” Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut as tears sprang into them. It was just so much, so much at once. This love Harry had for Ron had been the most steadfast thing in his life since he was eleven and now everything was going to change. For the better, but it would change nevertheless.
“Hey, love,” Ron said, groaning as he crouched in front of Harry, gently brushing Harry’s tears away with his thumbs. “I’m here. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”
Harry released a sob and then he surged forward, pressing his lips to Ron’s. The force was enough to knock Ron back on his butt, but he just grinned up at Harry and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him down into a kiss. Harry straddled him and clutched Ron’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss. Ron groaned, his hands gripping Harry’s hips hard.
“Merlin, Harry,” Ron moaned into his lips before kissing down the column of Harry’s neck. He scraped his teeth where Harry’s neck met shoulder, making him shudder, his hips grinding down over Ron’s rapidly hardening cock. Harry moaned and rutted against him, feeling Ron thrust up to meet him.
“Fuck, Harry, just like that, baby,” Ron said, guiding his hips.
“I want more,” Harry said. He was sure he looked wild as rutted against Ron’s cock, eyes wide and hair in disarray. But Ron seemed to like it, running his hands through Harry’s curls, his nails scratching along his scalp.
“Fuck yes,” Ron said, fiercely nodding.
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. In a blink, they were naked, their clothes neatly folded on the table. Ron’s skin felt fantastic against Harry’s, smooth and warm.
Ron’s eyebrows rose even as his hands grasped Harry’s arse, fingers digging into the meat of it. “Mum would be impressed,” he said.
“Do not mention your mother when you’re about to be inside me,” Harry said, eyes narrowed. “I’ll never be able to look at her again.”
Chuckling, Ron said, “Noted.”
Harry concentrated again and cast cleansing, stretching, and lubrication spells he’d perfected back when he was more indiscriminate about the men he slept with. Ron shivered as the magic washed over them.
“I’ll never get over how your magic feels,” he murmured, his eyes intense as he looked at Harry.
“Yeah?”
Ron nodded. “It feels warm, safe. Like home.”
“Fuck, Ron,” Harry said. His chest felt tight like it was whenever Ron said something that amazed Harry, something that touched him far more intimately than what they were currently doing.
“I’m serious about you,” Ron said. “I need you to believe me.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I do. I’m serious too. You’re it for me. You always have been.”
“Good,” Ron said, crookedly smiling. “Now can we please get the show on? I’m going to crack up here.
Harry laughed and acquiesced, lifting himself up and lining Ron’s cock up with his hole. His nails dug into Ron’s chest as he slowly sank down, Ron holding his hands through it. Even with magical prep, it was still a stretch, an exquisite one. Harry was breathing hard by the time Ron was fully seated, feeling so incredibly full. Having Ron inside him was unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. It was like Ron said; it felt like home.
He experimentally moved his hips, drawing a groan from Ron’s lips. “Fuck, Harry, you feel incredible.”
“It’s pretty good from my end too,” Harry said, raising his hips a little and sinking back down.
Time passed funny after that as Harry got lost in the feel of Ron inside him and the intense look in Ron’s blue eyes. Harry’s thighs started to hurt but he powered through until he felt that familiar coil of pleasure start to build.
“Fuck, Ron, please touch me,” Harry said desperately. Ron wasted no time grasping Harry’s cock and pumping it. A few strokes later and Harry splatted Ron’s chest and stomach with come.
“Fuck, Harry,” Ron groaned. He wrapped his arms around Harry when Harry collapsed forward on him, holding tight as he thrust up into Harry, chasing his own orgasm. Not long later, Harry felt Ron come inside him, felt the pleasant reverberation of his groan through his chest.
After a few moments, Harry gingerly climbed off Ron and laid down next to him, his head buried in Ron’s chest. Ron held him, his touch soothing as Harry came down from his orgasm.
“We are definitely too old to fuck on the floor,” Ron said, breaking the silence.
Harry looked at him. “Wanna take a nap?”
Smiling, Ron said, “I’ll need one after that. You wore me out, mate.”
Harry blushed but grinned. He waved his hand, magicking them clean. Then he closed his eyes and pushed his magic. When he opened them, they were lying in Harry’s bed.
“You really are the best.” Ron snuggled up behind Harry. Sleepily, he added, “Love you, mate.”
“Love you too.”
When they woke up, they would have to talk about the change in their relationship. They would go on dates and eventually tell their loved ones about them. Hermione would give them a knowing smirk and Ron’s kids and Teddy would congratulate them on finally pulling their heads from their arses. Eventually, Ron would ask Harry to marry him. Ron and Harry would both cry through the entire ceremony, along with Molly and Andromeda and Hermione. Harry would take great delight in writing to the Daily Prophet the next time they mentioned Harry in the paper, informing him of his name change. They would grow old together and die within days of each other as they neared their 185th birthdays, but most importantly, they would together live a life filled with love and joy and peace.
For now, they slept. The rest could wait.
Author:
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Ron
Rating: E
Word Count: 2771
Content/Warning(s): sex, referenced child abuse, referenced racism
Summary/Prompt: "I was just wondering why you never settled down. You're a catch, mate, and I don't mean because you're Harry fucking Potter, but because you're you."
"Because I've been in love with you since we were kids, Ron."
A/N: This was a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoy!
Read on AO3 or below:
Harry hummed to himself as he prepared dinner. Ron would be home before too long and would no doubt be hungry after a long day slinging lattes and cappuccinos at the coffee shop he opened in Diagon Alley. Harry had popped in during his lunch break and was greeted with a line nearly out the door. When Harry finally reached the front of the line, he watched Ron light up and had to fight the flush threatening to spread across his cheeks.
Fifty-one years old and his best friend could still make him blush like a schoolboy. But then again, he’d been in love with Ron since he was a schoolboy, so things weren’t likely to change at this point.
“Do you need any help?” Harry asked when he reached the front of the line.
Chuckling, Ron said, “I still remember what happened the last time I let you help out.” Involving a blistering burn from the steam wand on the back of Harry’s hand, several dropped pastries, and closing his fingers in the cash register drawer, Harry wasn’t likely to forget either. “Besides, don’t you have your own business to run?”
“True,” Harry said, thinking of the massive broom order for the Wimbourne Wasps Harry had due by the end of next week. “At this point, I think I’m looking for any excuse to take a break from it. There’s only so long I can concentrate on broom bristles before I start going cross eyed with a migraine.”
Rolling his eyes, Ron said, “Harry, you know you’ll regret it if you put off that order.”
Sighing dramatically, Harry said, “I suppose you’re right.”
“It’s been known to happen on occasion.”
Ron slid Harry’s coffee thermos across the counter to him, the strong scent of coffee wafting up and making Harry’s mouth water almost as much as watching Ron’s arms flex as he moved about behind the counter.
“Make sure you’re home on time. I’m making your favorite,” Harry said, ripping his eyes away from Ron’s arms.
“Marry me, Harry,” Ron said, clutching his chest.
Harry forced a smile. It must have been noticeable because Ron’s brow furrowed. “You couldn’t handle me, Weasley.” Ron’s brow smoothed out.
“Don’t I know it.”
Harry waved and left the coffee shop quickly, hoping that Ron didn’t notice how weird he was being.
Harry sighed, refocusing on chopping the potatoes. Sure, he was good enough at healing magic by now that he could easily heal himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted to cut himself by any means. Not to mention the fact that, no matter how magically talented, blood was bloody hard to get out of fabrics. Hermione, bless her, could probably tell him why.
“That smells fantastic,” Ron said, as he stepped through the Floo fifteen minutes later. He walked over to peer down into the pot of curry Harry had simmering on the stove. “How do you keep getting better and better at cooking, mate?”
Harry chuckled. “I’m just glad I finally live with someone that appreciates my cooking.”
Ron’s face darkened, no doubt thinking about the Dursleys and Harry’s last live-in boyfriend. Andrew hadn’t liked Harry’s “ethnic” dishes, ones he uncovered from the main Potter vault all lovingly written in a notebook by his grandmother Euphemia. Needless to say, Harry dropped him like a hot potato for that comment.
Ron still got riled up on Harry’s behalf whenever Andrew or the Dursleys were brought up.
Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, conveying the fact that he really didn’t want to talk about them. Ron nodded and turned his attention back to the pot. “Well, I enjoy your cooking no matter what you make. It’s all fucking delicious.”
Harry’s lips quirked up. “Is that why you moved in with me, mate?” he asked cheekily.
After Ron and Hermione’s divorce a few years ago, Ron moved into Grimmauld Place with Harry, something Harry could never regret no matter how in love with Ron Harry was. Between having a constant companion in an otherwise lonely home life and the constant hyping of Harry’s cooking skills, living with Ron was a dream. Neither of them seemed inclined to end the arrangement because they got along great, spending their evenings listening to Quidditch matches on the wireless or watching the TV Harry rigged up or reading. Harry was always on the lookout for magic to improve his brooms and Ron had taken an interest in warding over the last few years, strengthening Grimmauld’s wards until not even a fly could get through them.
Ron huffed and rolled his eyes. “Obviously. And it shows too,” he said, patting his belly. Ron might have lines around his eyes and mouth and gray interspersed with his red hair, but he looked just as gorgeous to Harry as he did at eighteen. Maybe even more so because now he looked distinguished.
“As if you aren’t as fit now as you were at thirty,” Harry blurted out. His eyes widened when he realized what he said, hoping against hope Ron wouldn’t read too much into it.
Running a hand through his short hair, Ron chuckled. “Thanks, Harry. Erm, so are you, you know?”
Harry blushed, turning his attention back to the simmering pot. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and dipped it inside. “Taste?” he asked.
Ron wasted no time closing his lips around the spoon, his eyes on Harry the entire time. Harry gulped and could only hope his skin tone was enough to hide what was surely a fantastic blush.
“Mm, delicious,” Ron said as he pulled away.
“Th-thanks,” Harry said. Ron smiled.
*
With Harry and Ron sitting across from each other and chatting about their days, dinner was cozy the way it always was. Despite the electric lights Harry managed to get to run on magic, Ron lit a couple of candles and poured them each a glass of wine. Harry felt warm and happy the way he always did in Ron’s presence and had to fight the thought of how this felt a lot like a date.
Ron pushed away his bowl. “I can’t eat anymore,” he groaned, making Harry smile.
“Not even room for dessert? I made chocolate cake,” Harry teased.
“You’re trying to kill me, Potter,” Ron said, though he seemed to give a slice of cake serious consideration. “Nope, it’ll have to wait.”
Laughing, Harry replied, “Fair enough.”
He watched Ron grab his wine glass and take a sip, his eyes intent on Harry in a way that made Harry squirm in his chair. Ron had that look like he was about to say something, and Harry wasn’t sure he would like it.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked. “Something personal?”
Harry forced a smile. “It’s never stopped you before, mate.”
Ron smiled before his face smoothed into a considering expression. “True. I was just wondering why you never settled down. You’re a catch, mate, and I don’t mean because you’re Harry fucking Potter, but because you’re you.”
Harry swallowed. “I have settled down before,” he said, thinking back on Andrew and his string of exes, both wizard and Muggle alike. “It just didn’t take.”
“I suppose,” Ron said, “but you never seemed into them all that much. You never seem to mourn your relationships much. Why?”
Harry was silent. He knew he could lie, make up a plausible half-truth or lie, but Ron would see right through that. He knew Harry better than anyone and always knew when Harry was dishonest with him. Ron might not call him out on it, but it would still hurt to be dishonest with him.
Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face. Now was the time to finally come clean. He just hoped it didn’t change things between them. Harry grasped his wine glass and took a long swig before meeting Ron’s eye. “I was never able to give it my all in those relationships.”
The corners of Ron’s lips turned down. “Why not?” he asked softly.
It was now or never. “Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Ron.”
Silence. Ron’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open, making him look a bit like the fish at the Sea Life Aquarium Harry used to take Teddy, Rose, Hugo, and various Weasley grandchildren to see when they were kids.
“Oh,” Ron finally said softly. Then he got up and rounded the table until he stood in front of Harry.
For a wild moment, Harry thought Ron was going to hit him, though he knew that Ron would never do that.
Instead, Ron’s tilted Harry’s chin up until their eyes met. “Harry,” Ron said in that same soft voice. “I don’t wanna waste anymore time,” Ron whispered, tucking a long curl behind Harry’s ear.
“W-what?”
A wide smile spread across Ron’s face. “Can I kiss you, mate?”
“You…you really mean that?” Harry asked, his voice small. He felt like he was a teenager again, Dean asking to kiss him after Harry took him to the Yule Ball. At least this time Seamus wouldn’t be glaring daggers at him the entire time.
Ron’s brow furrowed. “More than anything,” he said. “I’ve loved you for a long time too, Harry Potter. Hermione knew. That's why she asked for a divorce, to give you and me a chance.”
“That Hermione,” Harry murmured, once again thankful for her friendship over the years. “But that was years ago.”
“Yeah,” Ron admitted. “I mean, I needed time to get over my twenty-five year marriage first. And then I wanted to date around a bit, get used to the idea of being with men. I knew I liked women, but liking men was still a bit of a foreign concept to me no matter how long I’ve loved you. Though to be fair, I didn’t realize it most of the time.”
“You’ve dated men?” Harry sputtered, his eyebrows drawing together. Surely he would remember if Ron had gone on a date with a guy.
Ron chuckled. “You remember Sam? And Alex? I know you never actually met them, but I thought you’d have figured it out.”
“In my defense, Sam and Alex are pretty gender neutral names. I thought they were women,” Harry said. He felt like his heart might explode in his chest. Ron liked men. Not just men; Ron liked him.
“No, I love you, Harry,” Ron said, cupping Harry’s cheek, his thumb running along Harry’s bottom lip. Oops, Harry hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
“I love you too,” Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut as tears sprang into them. It was just so much, so much at once. This love Harry had for Ron had been the most steadfast thing in his life since he was eleven and now everything was going to change. For the better, but it would change nevertheless.
“Hey, love,” Ron said, groaning as he crouched in front of Harry, gently brushing Harry’s tears away with his thumbs. “I’m here. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”
Harry released a sob and then he surged forward, pressing his lips to Ron’s. The force was enough to knock Ron back on his butt, but he just grinned up at Harry and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him down into a kiss. Harry straddled him and clutched Ron’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss. Ron groaned, his hands gripping Harry’s hips hard.
“Merlin, Harry,” Ron moaned into his lips before kissing down the column of Harry’s neck. He scraped his teeth where Harry’s neck met shoulder, making him shudder, his hips grinding down over Ron’s rapidly hardening cock. Harry moaned and rutted against him, feeling Ron thrust up to meet him.
“Fuck, Harry, just like that, baby,” Ron said, guiding his hips.
“I want more,” Harry said. He was sure he looked wild as rutted against Ron’s cock, eyes wide and hair in disarray. But Ron seemed to like it, running his hands through Harry’s curls, his nails scratching along his scalp.
“Fuck yes,” Ron said, fiercely nodding.
Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. In a blink, they were naked, their clothes neatly folded on the table. Ron’s skin felt fantastic against Harry’s, smooth and warm.
Ron’s eyebrows rose even as his hands grasped Harry’s arse, fingers digging into the meat of it. “Mum would be impressed,” he said.
“Do not mention your mother when you’re about to be inside me,” Harry said, eyes narrowed. “I’ll never be able to look at her again.”
Chuckling, Ron said, “Noted.”
Harry concentrated again and cast cleansing, stretching, and lubrication spells he’d perfected back when he was more indiscriminate about the men he slept with. Ron shivered as the magic washed over them.
“I’ll never get over how your magic feels,” he murmured, his eyes intense as he looked at Harry.
“Yeah?”
Ron nodded. “It feels warm, safe. Like home.”
“Fuck, Ron,” Harry said. His chest felt tight like it was whenever Ron said something that amazed Harry, something that touched him far more intimately than what they were currently doing.
“I’m serious about you,” Ron said. “I need you to believe me.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “I do. I’m serious too. You’re it for me. You always have been.”
“Good,” Ron said, crookedly smiling. “Now can we please get the show on? I’m going to crack up here.
Harry laughed and acquiesced, lifting himself up and lining Ron’s cock up with his hole. His nails dug into Ron’s chest as he slowly sank down, Ron holding his hands through it. Even with magical prep, it was still a stretch, an exquisite one. Harry was breathing hard by the time Ron was fully seated, feeling so incredibly full. Having Ron inside him was unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. It was like Ron said; it felt like home.
He experimentally moved his hips, drawing a groan from Ron’s lips. “Fuck, Harry, you feel incredible.”
“It’s pretty good from my end too,” Harry said, raising his hips a little and sinking back down.
Time passed funny after that as Harry got lost in the feel of Ron inside him and the intense look in Ron’s blue eyes. Harry’s thighs started to hurt but he powered through until he felt that familiar coil of pleasure start to build.
“Fuck, Ron, please touch me,” Harry said desperately. Ron wasted no time grasping Harry’s cock and pumping it. A few strokes later and Harry splatted Ron’s chest and stomach with come.
“Fuck, Harry,” Ron groaned. He wrapped his arms around Harry when Harry collapsed forward on him, holding tight as he thrust up into Harry, chasing his own orgasm. Not long later, Harry felt Ron come inside him, felt the pleasant reverberation of his groan through his chest.
After a few moments, Harry gingerly climbed off Ron and laid down next to him, his head buried in Ron’s chest. Ron held him, his touch soothing as Harry came down from his orgasm.
“We are definitely too old to fuck on the floor,” Ron said, breaking the silence.
Harry looked at him. “Wanna take a nap?”
Smiling, Ron said, “I’ll need one after that. You wore me out, mate.”
Harry blushed but grinned. He waved his hand, magicking them clean. Then he closed his eyes and pushed his magic. When he opened them, they were lying in Harry’s bed.
“You really are the best.” Ron snuggled up behind Harry. Sleepily, he added, “Love you, mate.”
“Love you too.”
When they woke up, they would have to talk about the change in their relationship. They would go on dates and eventually tell their loved ones about them. Hermione would give them a knowing smirk and Ron’s kids and Teddy would congratulate them on finally pulling their heads from their arses. Eventually, Ron would ask Harry to marry him. Ron and Harry would both cry through the entire ceremony, along with Molly and Andromeda and Hermione. Harry would take great delight in writing to the Daily Prophet the next time they mentioned Harry in the paper, informing him of his name change. They would grow old together and die within days of each other as they neared their 185th birthdays, but most importantly, they would together live a life filled with love and joy and peace.
For now, they slept. The rest could wait.