Teasetting Ron

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Teasetting Ron by Oowth

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Disclaimer This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary Ron proved he doesn't have the emotional range of a teaspoon... just for one...
Pairings Ron/Other
Categories First Time, Humor/Parody, Plot-What-Plot (PWP), Unresolved Sexual Tension (UST)
Notes Writen for a vote from MissA. Posted for a vibrator from Eva.

You storm around the castle, muttering under your breath. "Emotional Range of a Teaspoon?" You can't believe she'd say that. You can be just as emotional as anyone. You just don't need to.

In your anger, you find yourself lead to the North Tower, where Professor Trelawney stays. Hermione always complains about what a fraud she is and how Divination isn't real, but something inside you makes you want to believe.

As you stare up towards the trapdoor, you see it open. The ladder slips out and falls to your feet. At first you expect someone to come down, so you step aside. When no one comes you realize you feel yourself being pulled towards the room.

Slowly and uncertainly, you begin to climb the rope. It sways slightly under your weight but you make it safely up.

You're not sure what you expect, but you feel relieved when you find it empty.

No one is there.

Just to be sure, you walk around the room, checking the nooks and crannies. The room seems so much more normal without the silly smoke and fire. You can actually feel a sort of... magic resigning in the room.

Finally you stop walking, standing right in front of the tea set Professor Trelawney keeps behind her desk. It doesn't look very impressive, but something draws you to it.

The first thing you notice is the teaspoon, remembering what had lead you around the castle. You pick up it and can't help but notice it feels cold in your hand. As you tighten your grip around it, attempting to warm it, you wonder how much emotion it can hold.

You bring it closer to your face, trying to examine it better. It's still cold.

Something makes you determined to warm up the spoon. You squeeze your hands around it again, but it doesn't do anything.

Slipping the utensil under your shirt, you try letting your warm chest raise its temperature but that only brings goosebumps to your skin.

Without much thought towards it, you slip the spoon between the waistband of your pants and your skin. You can feel yourself tightening against the cold.

You slowly rub the end of the spoon up and down the length of yourself. For some reason that seems to work. You can feel the spoon warming up, and with the extra warmth, you can feel the blood rushing towards it. With the blood quickly leaving your head, you can hardly think straight. Not that you were doing much thinking before.

As you rub the spoon faster, you feel short of breath, gasping at the pleasure. Some reason this simple teaspoon seemed to have an even stronger effect that your own hand was ever able to bring.

With much effort, you finally bring yourself to remove it from your pants. You can feel yourself quivering, but can't bring yourself to ejaculate.

It'd make a mess in your pants and you didn't want to have to face Dobby, especially since he was the only House Elf that took care of the Gryffindor Tower now.

With the little blood left in your brain, you try to think. So as to not be further tempted you start to return the teaspoon to the tray.

That's when you see the teapot.

It's spout seems rather large for a teapot. But the perfect size for some thing else.

Frantically, one hand grabbing for the teapot, your other hand is busy unbuckling your pants. You let them fall to your ankles, before tugging down your boxers with your free hand.

Without being very careful, you position yourself.

And then thrust.

And again. You push the teapot further over you, letting yourself go deeper and deeper into it, until the brim of the sprout is digging into curly red hair.

Your breathing has quickened without you noticing. You don't even notice the grunts you've been making. All you can notice is the feeling of relief as you feel it flow through your body and fill the teapot beyond the spout.

Finally you're just too worn out to do more. You slid the teapot away, returning it to the tray.

Taking deep breaths to try to calm yourself, you sit down in the chair behind the desk.

Your pants are still tangled around your ankles, the elastic of your boxers digging into your thigh.

Emotional range my foot.