Ron circled the pitch, keeping one eye on the changing rooms as he half-heartedly went through some flying drills. The Aurors had just finished their most recent intramural Quidditch match against the team from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, a match that they'd won thanks in no insignificant part to Ron's superb Keeping skills. They'd barely won the game they'd played against Magical Games a month ago, and this had been Ron's chance to redeem himself, an opportunity he'd taken full advantage of. He wasn't too humble to admit he'd been on fire today, and he should have been elated. Instead he was flying in circles long after the match had finished, his stomach in knots.
The teams were currently finishing up with their showers in the shared changing room before heading off to the pub, but instead of joining them to change, Ron had elected to stay behind. He'd waved his teammates and co-workers away when they'd sent him questioning glances, claiming he wanted to get in a little more flying time before meeting them at the Leaky. Harry had been a little more persistent, offering to help him practice by throwing Quaffles at the hoop, but Ron had shooed him on, saying he wanted to work on basic flying technique as opposed to Keeping. He knew Harry could tell that something was up, and Ron didn't want to risk him trying to figure out what was going on in Ron's head. Harry had been almost too supportive of Ron's recent revelation that he liked blokes as well as birds, and while Ron appreciated Harry's easy acceptance, there were some things Ron really, really didn't want to talk about with his best friend.
He glanced back towards the changing rooms, watching as a group of Aurors and Games employees exited the building, the buzz of conversation and laughter just barely reaching Ron's ears. He scanned the group, pretending he wasn't looking for a particular person, then pretending even harder that he wasn't disappointed when he didn't see him. It had been over a half hour since the game had ended, and by Ron's count, that should have been just about enough time to get everybody showered and off home or to the pub for post-match beers. Which meant it was finally safe for him to do the same.
Given what happened after last month's game, he wasn't taking any chances.
The thing was, Ron thought as he landed and began to make his way towards the changing room, maybe nothing even had happened last month. He had been completely bladdered that night at the pub, and the whole evening was hazy and indistinct. He remembered the match, of course, and the fact that his team had won by the skin of their teeth and only because Harry had caught the Snitch. Ron had been off his game and had let in a frankly embarrassing number of Quaffles, a fact that Cormac McLaggen, the opposing team's Keeper, had been keen to point out repeatedly after the match when the teams had met up at the pub The Aurors and the Games employees generally got on, but Cormac had rubbed Ron the wrong way ever since Hogwarts, and time hadn't changed Cormac one little bit. He remembered telling himself to avoid Cormac and to try and enjoy the night out at the pub with his friends, but something about Cormac always got beneath his skin and drove him bonkers. Somehow, he'd spent most of the evening sniping and arguing with Cormac, working himself into a lather with each sanctimonious comment that fell from Cormac's annoyingly full lips. Before he knew it, the night had passed in a blur of beer and bickering, and suddenly it was last call and everybody else had already left.
Cormac had been every bit as pissed as Ron, and since both the Floo and Apparating were right out in their state, they'd stumbled outside to catch the Knight Bus. Ron wasn't really sure how they went from trying to remember which arm flagged down the bus to making out in the alleyway outside the pub, grunting and groaning as they rutted against the brick wall, but the memory of it still made Ron's cheeks heat.
Only, maybe it wasn't a memory, Ron told himself desperately, because he still wasn't entirely convinced the whole thing wasn't just some bizarre, alcohol-induced dream/nightmare. Yes, he had a shockingly vivid recollection of coming his brains out as he squeezed Cormac's unbelievably firm arse, but the next thing he remembered was waking up clean and naked in his own bed, with no memory as to how he made it home. Surely that was a sign it was all just some fucked-up figment of his imagination… right?
Yet there was a small, rather vocal part of him that kept insisting that it was most definitely not a dream, and that he really did share a drunken snog with Cormac in a dirty alleyway, a voice he was doing his level best to suppress. It was far too mortifying to even contemplate. Ron might have recently come to terms with his bisexuality, but getting it on with McLaggen was a step too far. Surely he had more taste than that? Cormac might be fit as hell, but he was also a pompous arsehole who frequently made Ron want to scream, and not in a fun way.
And if he did get off with Cormac, it was only the result of a drunken lapse in judgement, most certainly never to be repeated. Ever. Which was why Ron was sneaking into the shared changing rooms after their latest Quidditch match once everybody had already left. He emphatically did not fancy Cormac, but it was probably best not to be confronted with him all wet and naked and… wet, just the same.
As he'd hoped, the coast was completely clear when he pressed open the doors to the changing room, the air still damp and muggy from everybody else's showers. He was feeling a bit manky himself, and he quickly shucked off his kit, tossing his gear into his bag before making his way to the large, communal shower area. Another benefit of being the only one left was that he got to claim the third shower from the right, the one with the best water pressure, though 'best' was still a relative term. He cranked it up as high as it would go and sighed as he stepped under the scalding spray. The hot beat of the water was heaven against his sore back and shoulders, and he closed his eyes as he tipped his head back, finally letting himself relax.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Ron jolted, nearly falling on his arse as his feet slid on the slippery floor, his heart taking off like a stampede of Erumpents. The sudden shock of realising he wasn't as alone as he'd thought was bad enough, but worse still was the fact that Ron recognised the voice as belonging to the one person he'd been trying to bloody avoid in the first place.
"McLaggen," he said through gritted teeth, fighting the instinct to cover his bits; Cormac wouldn't hesitate to take that for the weakness that it was. "What are you doing here?"
"Surely we're past last names at this point, Ron," he said with a knowing smile. "And I imagine I'm here for the same reason you are. You'd think it would be easy to stay clean given that we're all up in the air, but Quidditch really can be such a… dirty sport, don't you think?"
With that, he whipped the towel from his waist with a flourish, draping it over one of the hooks before turning on the shower directly next to Ron's. Ron couldn't stop his traitorous eyes from taking in Cormac's broad shoulders and muscled chest, his defined calves and thick thighs, and finally, the half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. He'd not had a chance to see Cormac's cock last time (if there'd even been a last time, which Ron was becoming increasingly sure there had) and the sight of it now…
Ron scowled, tearing his gaze away as his own cock began to stir. So what if the wanker had a nice cock, thick and long and nearly as big as Ron's own (which, Ron thought with no small amount of pride, was saying something)? Just because it had been harder (pun fully intended) than Ron expected to find a decent bloke to give his newfound bisexuality a proper test flight, that didn't mean he had to hop on the first prick that came his way, especially when it was attached to such a massive git.
"You do know that literally every other shower is available, yeah? Why don't you piss off and use one of those?"
Cormac chuckled, pompous and condescending and unfairly hot, the warm, rich tone sending shivers down Ron's spine. "Always such a joker," he said, his gaze hot as he stared at Ron through the rushing water.
Ron flushed, frustration and arousal swirling through him as the water continued to pound down against his shoulder blades. Cormac was just so infuriating, dismissing him in that smug tone of his while looking at Ron like he was remembering that night in the alleyway, like he wanted to repeat that night in the alleyway. Water slid down Cormac's wide chest, running down the annoyingly defined cuts of muscle that he clearly spent hours in the gym sculpting like a prick. He was arrogant and superior, and Ron hated him, but he also kind of wanted to choke Cormac with his cock and feel all that built strength pressing him against the nearest available surface.
Horrifyingly, he felt his cock begin to plump. The damned thing insisted on stiffening up, even when Cormac took clear notice, his gaze flicking down towards Ron's prick as he licked his lips. Their eyes met again, tension sparking in the air between them like zaps from a Stinging Spell. Ron opened his mouth, intent on telling Cormac to stop looking at him like that, to take his stupid muscles and perfect hair and impressive dick somewhere else, but he never got a chance. In the blink of an eye, Cormac had crossed the few steps between their showers, fisting a hand in Ron's hair before drawing their lips together in a fierce kiss.
Ron moaned into the kiss entirely against his will, his hands coming up to brace themselves against Cormac's firm shoulders as Cormac pressed Ron flat against the cool tile wall. He kept telling himself that he'd push Cormac away in outrage at any moment, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to get his hands to do anything other than slide down the water-slick planes of Cormac's back to squeeze his arse and urge him closer.
Fuck, this was so different from his hazy, beer-soaked recollections of their sweaty fumble behind the Leaky. This was crystal-clear technicolour, their naked, drenched bodies slipping and sliding together with a pleasurable intensity that made it almost impossible to breathe. Though maybe that was just because Cormac kissed like he did everything else, with an absurdly high level of confidence that made Ron hate him a little, because the confidence was entirely well-deserved. He didn't think he'd ever been kissed so expertly, so thoroughly, as if there was nothing in the world that Cormac would rather be doing than licking into Ron's mouth. It was more than a little intoxicating, being the subject of such focus and intensity, and when Cormac's hands slid down to grip Ron's arse, his fingers slipping along the damp skin and dipping into Ron's crease, Ron gave up all pretense that he would be stopping this and let himself enjoy the ride.
"Fuck," Cormac groaned, his voice a rough, low timbre that vibrated straight through to Ron's cock. "Merlin, you're so…." He trailed off and pulled away from Ron's lips to look him over, the hand that wasn't still massaging Ron's arse pressing huge and hot against his chest before slowly sliding downwards. Ron's stomach jumped as Cormac's rough fingers tickled his belly, tugging lightly at his treasure trail and then boldly wrapping tight around his cock.
"Shit, yeah," Ron moaned, throwing his head back against the tile and hitching his hips up into the circle of Cormac's first. It had been so long since somebody had touched him like this, and Cormac wanked him with a rough, possessive surety that made Ron's knees shake as pleasure built up inside him.
"Look at me," Cormac commanded as Ron's eyes began to flutter closed. Normally that tone, especially from Cormac, would be enough to make Ron bristle, but Ron didn't even think twice before obeying. Cormac's gaze was intent upon him as he continued moving his fist hard and fast over Ron's erection, his eyes smoldering as he brought Ron closer to the edge. The hand on his arse grew bolder and more daring, the fingers moving more purposefully along his crease, sliding along until they were right up against Ron's hole.
Ron couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, so much more intense than it ever felt the few times he'd rubbed his own fingers there himself. He'd always assumed arse-play just wasn't for him, but the shivery feeling of Cormac's fingers rubbing at his rim and teasingly dipping inside was making him reconsider that assumption.
The combination of Cormac's hand on his dick, his fingers against Ron's arse, and those dark eyes watching him like he was a particularly tasty snack was enough to finally send Ron over the edge. He came with an embarrassingly high-pitched cry, coating Cormac's hand and wrist with come as he collapsed back against the cool wall. Cormac didn't lose a moment of momentum, taking the hand still covered in Ron's spunk and wrapping it around his own throbbing erection. Ron watched with heavy eyes as Cormac began to pull himself off, and he didn't even muster a token protest when Cormac's other hand slid away from Ron's arse to brace itself against Ron's chest, effectively pinning him to the wall as Cormac wanked over him.
Cormac grunted when he finally found his release, his thick cock spurting streaks of white all over Ron's stomach and groin. Ron thought he should probably find it disgusting or degrading, and he was sure he'd have palpitations later when he realised what he'd let McLaggen do to him, but right now his brain was still leaking from his ears due to hotness overload. Cormac might be a cocky son-of-a-bitch, but Ron had to admit he was fucking fit as hell, and given their two dodgy encounters so far, not half-bad in the sack.
He wondered what they could get up to together with a full hour and a proper bed, and then was promptly horrified at his dreamy contemplations.
"You know," Cormac said, his breath still heavy with the effects of his orgasm. "If I'd known you'd be this easy, I wouldn't have waited a month to try for round two."
Ron spluttered. "Easy! I'm not—"
Cormac silenced him with a kiss. It was surprisingly effective.
"I just meant that I expected you to put up more of a resistance," Cormac murmured against his lips. "Figured you'd spend a little more time pretending you didn't find me attractive."
"You find me attractive, too!" Ron countered. This whole mess was hardly his fault. Cormac was the one who kissed him first. At least this time. Ron wasn't totally clear on who initiated things in the alley.
"I do," Cormac said simply as he pulled back.
Ron's jaw dropped—he hadn't expected Cormac to admit it. "What?"
Cormac rolled his eyes as he reached past Ron for the shampoo dispenser. That was nearly as shocking as the fact that Cormac had just admitted he was attracted to Ron—he wouldn't have thought Cormac would deign to use the cheap Ministry-provided shit on his poncy hair.
"Do you think I go around snogging every bloke I see in the shower? I've been flirting with you for months."
"You were flirting? Mate, no wonder you're still single." Ron knew he wasn't the best at flirting himself, but even he knew you probably shouldn't antagonise and insult the person you were interested in. Then again, Ron had got off with him. Twice.
Cormac shrugged, tilting his head back beneath the spray to wash out the shampoo and revealing the tempting curve of his throat. "It's not my fault your infuriating. Did anybody ever tell you you're a bit of a hothead?"
"Seriously? I'm the hothead?" Ron snorted as he stepped back beneath the shower head to wash off Cormac's come. And if it seemed like he noticed Cormac watching and spent a little longer stroking himself clean than was entirely necessarily, well, nobody could really prove that, could they?
Cormac laughed. "I've always liked a challenge, and you, Ron, are certainly that."
"In that case," Ron said blithely as he turned off his shower, "I'd best not make things too easy for you. I'd hate for you to get bored."
This time it was Cormac's turn to be taken off guard, staring at Ron with something like shock and desire. Ron smirked, reaching out and stealing Cormac's towel to wrap around his waist. He still had absolutely no idea what was going on between them, but he was starting to think that maybe it wouldn't be so horrible to find out.
"I'll see you around, Cormac," Ron said with a cheeky grin. "Enjoy the rest of your shower."