Title: Right Away
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sex and some language
Summary: Harry gets distracted at work. One-shot.
Pairing: (What if I totally faked everyone out and put something squicky here? Would anyone even notice?)
Genre: smut, humor
Word Count: 1200
Beta: Not Brit-picked, unfortunately, buttwbasketcase was kind enough to glance over it for typos,nova33 humored me late into the night as I waxed poetic on blow jobs, andgoneoffthelump was gracious enough to read my porn at work. You’re all lovely.
A/N: Shocolate, I’m sorry, I tried to write your gift fic on “watching Spiderman” like you asked, but everything that was coming out was pretty much crap. So I decided to be a cheater cheater pumpkin eater and just write you some smut instead. I hope you don’t mind. Oh, and happy birthday.
ETA: I also have a little drabble version of this fic here.
Harry’s eyes flew open and he looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in the now-open doorway to his office, eying him suspiciously. Harry sat up straight and adjusted his tie, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat.
Shacklebolt glanced around Harry’s office. “Have you seen Weasley?”
“Erm…” Harry licked his lips nervously. “I think he went downstairs to get coffee?”
The older man paused, and Harry felt his face go warm. “Right,” Shacklebolt said finally. “Well, when you see him, tell him I need him in my office right away.”
Harry nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
There was silence for a good ten seconds after the door closed before Harry leaned back from the desk and peered down between his legs.
“Kingsley wants you in his office right away.”
Ron grinned and straightened up, nearly bumping his head on the top of the desk. “Right away, huh?”
Ron planted a hand on each side of Harry’s desk chair and glanced down at Harry’s open fly. “Would you like me to, uh…zip you back up?”
Harry hesitated. They’d only been fooling around in his office for five minutes, but already Harry was hard like they’d been going at it for hours, and he wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps it was Ron’s thumb circling his bellybutton, or his strong hands running up and down Harry’s thighs, or perhaps it was just the sight of him squatting underneath the desk with his face between Harry’s legs while their coworkers talked business on the other side of the door. Either way, Harry was all wound up, and he really didn’t want to let Ron leave until he’d taken care of what he started.
Ron must have known what Harry was thinking, because he leaned forward and started folding back the flaps of fabric to expose the bulge in Harry’s underwear. “Probably just a question about that paperwork I submitted earlier. You know how messy my handwriting is. He probably just wants to know if I captured a warlock or a wardrobe.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, biting his lip uncertainly. “Maybe.”
Ron smirked and rose up to his knees, pushing Harry back against the cushion of the chair. He skimmed his index finger over the waistband of Harry’s y-fronts, but instead of pulling them down to expose his cock, he pressed his nose against the bulge in the fabric, nudging gently. Harry let out an unsteady breath and curled his fingers around the arm of the desk chair as Ron nuzzled him repeatedly, leaving a trail of sloppy little kisses in his wake. When he reached the wet spot at the centre of the white material, he swiped his tongue right over the head of his cock, and Harry moaned out loud.
“Oh, god—” He bit his lip to keep the rest of it in as Ron pressed his tongue down firmly, swirling it so that it hit that spot where the head met the rest of the shaft. How he managed to find that precise location with a layer of stretchy material in the way, Harry would never know, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to ask either. He was at work, and Ron was under his desk giving him head, and the fact that anyone could walk in at any minute was making it hard to concentrate on anything at all.
“Door’s unlocked,” Harry managed, digging his fingertips into the underside of the wooden arms of his desk chair. Ron chuckled and coaxed Harry’s legs apart even wider.
“Relax,” he said quietly, insinuating a finger along the crease of his thigh. “No one can even see me.”
Harry wasn’t sure about this, but he didn’t have time to argue, because suddenly Ron hooked one thumb under the fabric opening at the leg, and Harry nearly jumped out of his chair when Ron’s thumbnail scraped over one of his balls.
“Shit, Ron!” he exclaimed, then flung a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else. Without meaning to, he spread his legs apart even farther and was rewarded by another swipe over his balls, this time from the other side. Harry felt a surge of warmth in the pit of his stomach, a prickle of hot sweat at the base of his spine, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer, especially when Ron’s thumb found the bit of skin between his balls and his arse.
“Oh!” Harry let out an undignified whimper against his palm as Ron nibbled lightly through the fabric, nose pressed against Harry’s groin. It was all Harry could do not to reach down and tangle his fingers through the mop of red hair and press Ron’s face down even harder. He was so close, and he wanted to come, with Ron’s lips wrapped around his cock and Ron’s thumbs stroking the underside of his balls and—
It was a very good thing that Harry had a hand clamped over his mouth, because he was fairly certain that the entire department would have heard him shouting Ron’s name over and over if he hadn’t. As it was, he almost broke the wooden chair arm in half, he was gripping it so hard. Ron kept licking the growing wet spot on the front of his underwear until Harry stopped shaking and slumped forward, resting his hand against the top of Ron’s head.
“We should do it this way more often,” said Ron, tucking Harry back into his trousers and zipping him back up. “Less to clean up.”
“Easy for you to say,” Harry murmured tiredly as he brushed the hair away from Ron’s face. “I have to walk around like this all day.”
Ron grinned. “At least you don’t have to walk around like that all day,” he said suggestively, patting the front of Harry’s trousers. “Besides, are you a wizard or not?”
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted when something whizzed in under the crack at the bottom of the door. It was a small piece of pale violet paper, folded into the shape of an aeroplane – an inter-departmental memo. It flew in and landed on Harry’s desk, colliding with his jar of pencils.
“It’s from Kingsley,” said Harry, when Ron’s eyebrows went up. He unfolded the piece of paper and skimmed quickly, his eyes growing wider as he read.
“Well, what does it say?” Ron asked impatiently.
Harry swallowed. “‘When you and Mr. Weasley are finished, I’ll really do need him in my office right away. And please remind him to collect his necktie on his way out – he left it on the chair next to the door.’”