Cormac sat on the kitchen counter, his muscular legs swinging, his Chaco sandals rhythmically hitting the cheap wood of the cabinet where Ron kept his bundt pans. It was Blowjob Tuesday, and Ron was due home from a three-day Auror mission. Cormac was not only feeling like a horndog, he was also feeling lonely.
On the bright side, Cormac thought as he looked around the kitchen, Ron's mission hadn't taken him away for an entire Tuesday. They'd long ago decided that if one of them missed Blowjob Tuesday, it would be replaced with Rimjob Thursday. It was some consolation, but Cormac relied on stability and routine—on gym schedules and knowing when to expect his sister to pop round for tea and the certainty that on the third Saturday of each month he and Ron always spent the day as their Animagi waterfowl, exploring the marshes and lakes of the surrounding areas. And he relied on the Tuesday blowie.
Everything was set. He had a DVD of Titanic for their evening film (Ron liked to watch telly when he got back from a mission). He'd made a batch of rice krispies squares. He'd spelled his dirty laundry into the laundry basket. All that was left to do was wait for the Floo to roar. His feet kept banging the cabinet.
"I'm in here!"
Ron walked toward the sitting room, chucking his Shrunken duffle bag into their bedroom as he walked past the door. Then he rounded the corner and straight into Cormac's broad chest. "Unfff!"
Cormac crushed him in a strangling hug. "Bro, fuck, I missed you."
Ron squeezed back. Cormac's moisture-wicking sleeveless compression shirt felt like home.
"How was the mission?"
"It was good," Ron replied. "Although I'm going to scream at Robards if he keeps pairing me with Smith. She's like six months pregnant now and fucking babies is all she can talk about."
"You might want to re-think your use of 'fucking' before 'babies' there, unless Smith is a lot worse than I thought."
Ron laughed, dropping his head to Cormac's shoulder. "I kept a tally. She asked me sixteen times when we're going to have a baby. Would we want to use a surrogate? Would Ginny do that? Would we consider male pregnancy? Would we adopt a Muggle?"
"That shit has to be the worst part of being in your thirties," Cormac sympathised. "Also, is she on potions? Obviously Charlie would be the one who would offer to be surrogate."
Ron's head flew up. "That's what I said! I told her repeatedly we aren't interested in children. Finally I told her that if she didn't shut up I was going to tell the whole office she doesn't believe in reproductive freedom. You know how much she cares about appearing progressive."
Cormac patted Ron on the back. "Well, forget Smith! Are you ready to cry your fucking eyes out about a boat hitting a fucking iceberg?"
Cormac turned to Ron, his eyes glistening with tears. "Bro."
"Shhhhh," Ron hissed, munching on a rice krispies square, watching the screen. A few moments later, the credits rolled.
Cormac stood up in a huff, throwing his arm up. "Did she just fucking die?!"
"Seems that way," Ron said, leaning back to look up at Cormac.
Cormac got over his outrage fairly quickly, turning to Ron to ask, "Who'd you rather bone? Jack or Kate? They really got me going."
"Kate," Ron answered easily.
Cormac's face clouded with disappointment. "Oh, bro. Wrong answer. Jack all the way. He's a total babe. He looks just like me when I was a bit younger."
Ron barked a laugh. "What?! No way! You don't look like him at all. You're like twice as swole, for starters."
Cormac raised an eyebrow, pulled his wand, and Summoned a box from the bookshelf. He opened it and started rifling through the contents.
"Are those old photos?" Ron asked excitedly. "Lemme see!"
"Yes, and we can look through them all in a minute. I want to show you how fucking adorable I was at every age, but hold on I gotta find this one…"
Ron watched with a bemused smile until Cormac pulled one photo out with a triumphant "Aha!", shoving it under Ron's nose.
"Huh," Ron said, his nose crinkling in surprise. "You do look like young Leo a bit, here. How did I not realise that when we were at school?"
"Too busy saving the world, I reckon," Cormac said with a toothy smile.
Ron laughed and walked forward to wrap Cormac in a one-armed hug. "I missed you."
"Hard same," Cormac replied, sliding his fingers into the waistband of Ron's trousers. "Thank fuck we didn't miss Blowjob Tuesday."
Ron turned, pressing his lanky torso against Cormac's muscular one. "Thank fuck," he echoed, leaning in to press his lips to Cormac's. Cormac pulled Ron close with a hand at his lower back and bit Ron's lip hard.
"Can I suck your cock now?" Cormac asked, eyes twinkling with mischief as he pushed Ron towards the sofa.
"Fuck yes," Ron breathed as he flopped into the upholstery.
"And then you can do me," Cormac continued, falling to his knees in front of Ron. "And then we're going to figure out how to steam up a car and have car sex with a hand on the window."
Ron laughed. "We don't have a car."
Cormac shrugged as if this was not a major stumbling block. "Think Hazza and Drazza will let us borrow theirs?"
"Do I think Harry will let us borrow their car," Ron deadpanned. "To have sex in. Like Titanic."
Cormac unzipped Ron's trousers and pulled them down around his ankles.
"I really don't think—" But Ron's words died off in a moan as Cormac leaned in to lick his cock.
They thrived on routine, after all.