A/N: This is by darkelixier66 , the first chapter, and the next chappie is mine! Please review! For more Roncest, please visit her profile!
Imagination?
There was something seriously wrong, Ron decided whilst sitting in his bedroom alone at some ungodly hour in the morning, he cared not to look at the clock to verify exactly how early it was for him to be staring at his ceiling but that really didn't matter, he had much bigger problems.
Or... what he assumed to be problems.
Green eyes blinked once, then twice, and then a third time as he played the recent happenings over in his mind.
Happenings that all directly involved his brothers in some way.
They had been acting... strangely lately... all of them... for no particular reason that he neither knew of nor cared to look into.
He wouldn't even of been bothered by it should it of had nothing to do with him.
Only it did.
Or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
Maybe Bill didn't really slip a hand between his legs under the table, fingers running up his inner thigh to grope lightly at his most private of places before his elder brother withdrew and went on talking like nothing had even happened, leaving Ron a blushing mess of confusion beside him.
Perhaps Charlie didn't push Ron to lean over a table, extremely hard length pressing into his backside as his elder brother reached for something that he could have easily gotten without having to lean over him, Charlie's chest flat against his back, hands on his side before he to left as if nothing had happened.
And Percy didn't really, slip one of his hands under Ron's shirt, to pinch one of his nipples smirking with the gasp he received from his younger brother before he let his hand slide down his side, pulling away and then walking back to his room as if he had done nothing.
Fred didn't walk in on him when he was in the shower, pulling back the curtains and looking his nude and flushed body over before he said he was sorry but failed to remove himself from his inspection of the water cascading off Ron's body, staying for a few moments longer before leaving without a word, carrying on like that incident never even occurred.
No way George really, licked a wet line up his neck biting playfully along his jaw, and kissing the corner of his mouth before whispering that there were fresh cookies in the kitchen, hand not failing to squeeze his hip before he returned to said cookies in the kitchen and then had the nerve to ask Ron why he looked so red in the face.
Perhaps he had imagined the hungry looks his older brothers gave him, the suggestive words and touches that were placed upon him when no one was looking.
Yes. That was it, he decided the next morning at breakfast when he was putting strawberry jam onto his piece of toast.
It was all in his mind, and he thought that was a fine explanation of it, taking a bite out of his bread, happy with this profound conclusion.
That was until Fred pointed out that he had a bit of jam on the side of his mouth then preceded to lick it off, another hand belonging to some unknown person was back between his legs being quickly joined by another one.
Ron only vaguely remembered the chairs moving and a well-placed lie to his mum about 'brotherly bonding' as strong arms lead him upstairs to his room.
He only just noted the door being locked before ten experienced hands were on him, shedding him of his cloths and pressing him into the mattress of his old bed with such ease he could have been a rag doll.
And he just barley remembered mouths attacking him like meat, and the pain that shot through his backside as he was pressed into without preparation, voices telling him to hush and stop moving or it would hurt more.
There was no way that happened though, and his brothers did not return every night for the rest of the summer, each having their own turn going inside of him with hushed words and the constant phrase that he was theirs.
They never crowded around him in a circle on the day he was to go back to Hogwarts and fiercely stated that if anyone were to touch him like they did, that person would be brutally killed and furthermore assuring him that he belonged to them.
And he never lied to his friends when they asked why he was limping one day or where he had disappeared to the previous night or even why he always seemed a bit tiered in class.
Ron decided he had an overactive imagination, and left it at that.
A/N: Okay, please review, I would love it!