Click.

"The light in here is perfect, don't you think?"

Ron shrugged, adjusting slightly as he tried interpreting the photographer's frantic hand gestures. He didn't know much about lighting, so he was trusting himself to the professional.

"God. You look so hot like that. Okay...uhm, how about you lay more on one side? No...no. Yes! Perfect. God!"

The camera whirred again and Ron grinned a little. He wasn't used to this much focussed attention, but he could certainly deal with the compliments headed this way. Especially when he was wearing so little.

"I am such a sucker for this outfit, Ron. You know where I got it?"

Ron wrinkled up his forehead. "How on Earth would I know? They're Muggle things!"

The photographer laughed, his hands somehow still steady even through the mirth. "I forget, that's all. The idea was from my mum."

"Are you kidding me?" Ron groaned. "I don't want to think of your mum when we're...when you're...when I'm dressed like this! You're a fucking weirdo, Colin."

Click click click.

"Ah, fuck, it's nothing but a story." As Colin moved maniacally around the bedroom set up especially for this session, Ron wondered where the hell he got all that energy. "Nah, my mother had this calendar of these, like, these dancers? They're men...obviously, heh! And they're dressed up like you are, with the bowtie and the tight trousers and what not. Women go fucking crazy over them, stuffing pound notes into their waistbands. The trousers are pull-away, so they end up in just a tie and some pants that no man would ever really wear--"

"Christ, yeah, Colin! These things are so uncomfortable." Ron stretched a hand around the back of his trousers and made to dig in, but froze when Colin screeched inhumanly.

"Don't you dare, Weasley. You move when I tell you to move."

"Ah, so it's one of those games, is it?" Ron asked coyly, getting up on all-fours at Colin's motion. "And here I thought you only wanted to take hot pictures of me."

Colin took a few steps, so he was now nearly nose-to-nose with his subject. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he lowered his voice in volume and timbre, murmuring, "It's important for a model to listen to every word his photographer tells him. We've only the model's best interests at heart."

"As long as the model's best interests involve being screwed through the mattress," retorted Ron, but he was smiling. He licked his lips and leaned in a bit, almost scowling when Colin's camera came between them.

Click!

"Don't they, though?" Colin was on his feet again. "You know, your trousers are pull-away, too. Stand up, try them out."

Ron complied, giving the trousers an experimental tug. Sure enough, an almost invisible seam down both legs opened up, pulling the garment from his body and leaving him clad only in the shiny, Gryffindor red bowtie and matching skivvies. He was unimpressed; a simple vanishing spell could have achieved the same effect without the tattered trouser remains, but he supposed it wasn't a bad trick as far as Muggle magic went. He rolled his eyes when Colin began applauding as well as he could manage with the camera in hand.

"You look even better like this. Too bad wizards don't deal in paper money; coins don't make for good stuffing, you know?"

Ron was slightly mystified, but he nodded anyway. He was feeling a little exposed and awkward now. It wasn't as though Colin hadn't seen him this way -- well, in underpants, not necessarily the shiny, little ones, nor the bowtie -- but being under the lens' intense scrutiny, he self-consciously rubbed at his forearms.

Colin made a tch sound with his tongue. "No need to feel embarrassed. Anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?"

Ron shrugged. "Not standing? Standing feels too..." He trailed off at a loss for words.

"Okay, sit then. Or stretch out on the bed again," said Colin, understanding immediately. He quickly looped the camera around his neck, helping Ron get settled. "Anything else? How about a story?" Peering through the lens, Colin brought Ron into focus.

Laughing, Ron felt a knot in his stomach loosen a bit, though he said, "A kid's tale isn't going to make me feel any better."

"Who said anything about a kid's story? I was thinking something a little more...adult." Colin lowered his camera, raising an eyebrow in Ron's direction.

"...Oh." Ron swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks go a bit red. That would work.

"Oh," Colin said agreeably, raising the camera again. "Get comfortable. Do whatever feels natural." Ron rested on his side again, closing his eyes, ready to listen.

Click.

"Did you know I used to think about you constantly before you knew a thing about it?"

"Oh yeah?" Ron let Colin's words wash over him, feeling some of his awkwardness drain away. "Think about me under the covers, did you?"

"Mmm. And in the library, and Potions, and in the showers. God, the Hogwarts showers must have the spunk of thousands of boys splashed on the walls." Colin laughed. "Like a shrine to DNA."

"D-N-what?"

"Muggle thing, never mind." The mattress descended a bit, an indication that Colin had joined him. "Yeah, I used to stand in the showers forever thinking about you. Had the same fantasy over and over."

Ron's prick gave an interested twitch at even the mere mention of Colin thinking of him. He wanted -- no, he needed to hear more. "Tell me."

"It started my fourth year, the year you became Keeper. I think the first time I saw you in your Quidditch uniform, I nearly fainted. Such a girly thing, but damn, you looked amazing. Running to the shower as fast my legs could take me...nearly broke my camera in my rush to get all my clothes off and wrap my hand around my cock.

"I picture you out on the pitch, and it's raining -- you know, because there's water rushing over me and I can't separate things properly. I'm sitting in the stands with my camera, taking shot after shot of you getting thoroughly soaked. God, the concentration on your face when you played, it was almost enough to bring me off just thinking about it. You're practising with an enchanted Quaffle, just you and Harry --"

Alarmed, Ron's eyes flew open and he interrupted, "Harry? He and I never...you shouldn't be talking about him."

"Ah, Ron, no, I was just sublimating. Just substituting him for me. Couldn't even come out from behind the lens when I was wanking. I was obsessed with him as a celebrity, but you're the only one I ever wanted."

Ron still felt a bit jealous, but he let Colin continue, closing his eyes and relaxing again.

"Anyway, you're flying around the goals chasing off this Quaffle and Harry's hunting for the Snitch and neither of you is paying attention to the other, even though you're supposedly practising together. All of a sudden, Harry spots something and takes off at high speed. His hand is reaching out, reaching out, when wham, he barrels into you, slamming you both into the ground.

"Harry's caught the Snitch of course, but he lets it go, hardly noticing he's done so, because he's landed on top of you. You're both breathing heavy because of the fall, completely covered in mud and grass and whatever else stuck to you when you hit the ground. Harry's staring at you, you're staring back, and I'm catching it all on camera. You reach up and grab the back of Harry's face, pulling him down into a kiss --"

Ron made a snorting noise. "No one just starts kissing just because their best mate rolled on top of them."

Swatting at the top of Ron's head, Colin said, "Listen, it's my fantasy. If you're going to keep on interrupting, I'll just stop, okay?"

"No," said Ron softly. "I...I liked it. Keep going."

"Good." Ron knew Colin was smiling. "Anyway, as I was saying, you pull Harry down into a kiss and Harry makes one of those half-surprised, half-turned-on noises that people make when they get something they really want. And you two keep kissing, using lips and tongue and teeth until you're both panting. Your hand's moved from Harry's hair to his shirt, so you tug it up and I can see your hands moving underneath. Harry's moaning into your mouth and he says, 'More,' only he says it so softly that I can't hear him, just read his lips, which have reddened under your assault. He says 'More', then I hear myself saying 'More', because I can't tear my eyes away from the two of you devouring one another.

"Then, you get this really fierce look in your eyes. I recognise it now; it's the same look you get right before you take me without warning, but, oh hell, it was hot even in my dreams. You flip Harry over onto his back, and he's sprawled out on the ground, his legs parted, and his shirt riding up. Harry's breathing is ragged and his hair is even messier than usual. There's this streak of mud going from his scar, all the way to his chin, and rain's just pouring down on you both. And I swear, I swear, I can make it out when you say, 'Fuck, you're so beautiful, Harry.' It's so intimate and intense that both Harry and I blush, but I don't look away. There's just no way I could now.

"I just keep on taking picture after picture, shocked that you two don't see me. I'm painfully hard right then, but I don't dare take my hands off the camera because there's no way I'll ever get this lucky again. You're opening Harry's trousers, sliding them to his knees. As soon as you free his cock, it's so hard that it's risen a bit above his stomach and he's begging, begging you touch him."

Ron felt hands on his hips then, pushing the garish pants down his legs, then off his body completely. A warm hand loosely circled his erection, and began stroking him slowly. "Fuck, Colin," Ron groaned.

"Shh," Colin instructed. "Let me finish. From where I am, I can see you grin wickedly at Harry, then you lean over and lick his whole cock. Harry bucks and almost raises off the ground in an attempt to get more of your mouth, but you won't stand for it. Instead, you lick him unhurriedly, thoroughly, almost like he's an ice cream cone that's about to drip all over your fingers. Harry's twining his hands through your hair, which looks nearly brown because you're both drenched. His face is twisted, his mouth a little open, and the moment you suck him down whole, he cries out so loud, I'm shocked that the whole school doesn't come running.

"God, in my dreams, your mouth looked nearly as pretty as it does in real life." Colin tightened his grip around Ron, his pace increasing. "Your mouth's always so red and it's almost shaped like a bow. And, fuck, watching Harry's cock disappear in and out of that pretty mouth, I think I could almost come on that thought alone.

"Harry's hips are moving to meet the rhythm of your mouth, and your hands are moving along the trail of hair on his stomach, his hips, then running along his inner thigh, until you're touching his balls. He cries out again, calling out 'Ron, Ron, Ron' over and over like it's some kind of personal prayer written just for him. I find I'm whispering your name along with him, then Harry shouts, coming in your mouth, and I'm coming, too, by myself, all over the wall of the shower." Colin paused and Ron could hear that they were both breathing irregularly. "And that's it."

Ron opened his eyes and found Colin carefully watching his face. His camera nowhere to be seen, Colin's hand was still wrapped around Ron's prick and he arched up, groaning. "God. Bloody hell -- I want -- I need --"

"What do you need? Tell me."

"Fuck. I need you to fuck me, Colin. I need you inside me. Now," Ron added helpfully.

Colin chuckled and stood, quickly undressing. As he struggled to pull off his boot, Colin said, "Thought you'd never ask."

Once the offending garments were removed, Colin picked up Ron's wand from the floor where he'd placed it earlier, awkwardly Summoning a tube of lubricant from his camera bag. "Always be prepared," Colin gasped as he hastily slicked on the stuff. "It's the Photographer's Credo."

"Is it really?" Ron said impatiently, sitting up so he could pull Colin closer to him.

"No, not really. It's someone else's. Still, good advice." Colin knelt on the bed, drawing Ron's long legs up, so they nearly circled Colin's neck. He pressed against Ron's entrance, and Ron pushed out so that Colin could fit more easily. They'd done this so many times before, but...

"Ah, fuck," said Ron, when Colin was fully sheathed inside him. "You feel fucking amazing."

"God, so do you." Colin groaned and moved slowly, reaching for Ron's cock again with a slippery hand. "I like...ah...the bowtie." It was the only article of clothing remaining from Ron's outfit.

Ron hissed as Colin's thumb circled the head of his cock, but managed to say, "Next time you wear it."

"And you take the pictures?" Colin's pace increased, pushing even deeper inside.

Ron moaned, matching Colin's rhythm. "Maybe. Oh. Oh, hell. God, I'm going to come."

"Then come. Watching you always pushes me over the edge."

Crying out Colin's name over and over, Ron came hard, white lines dividing his belly. Warmth filled his insides and he let his legs slip from their place around Colin's neck. Colin carefully pulled out, then reached over to the side of the bed and --

Click.

"You shit!" Ron laughed, grabbing one of the pillows and smacking Colin across the face. "See if I'm ever your model again." He grabbed his wand from the place Colin had thrown it. "Scourgify."

"Hey, I told you up front, all models want is a good shag. You got that, yeah?"

Ron laughed.

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them. Finally, Ron asked, "Did you really think of me like that while we were at school?"

"Constantly. Were you serious about being my photographer?"

"Deadly." Ron stifled a yawn, then crawled under the covers, shutting his eyes. He was done with posing for today.

The shutter clicked again, capturing the tranquil happiness present on Ron's face. "So beautiful," Colin breathed. He put down the camera for good and lay down, pressing into the warmth of Ron's body. "So goddamned beautiful."

"It's the bowtie," Ron muttered, before drifting off to sleep.