shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-02-27 01:00:00 |
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Harry's Lucky Day - H/R - NC-17
Title: Harry's Lucky Day
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3500
Happy birthday to my adorablemagicofisis.
Somehow it is a year since her last birthday.
I think she must have used her powers to speed up time, or something, in the hope that Ron and Harry would shag for her, once more.
I must say, they fought against it – OK, so I knew that Ron being with Hermione would complicate matters, but they kept not getting into bed with each other – and OK, Hermione may be a tad OOC, but you wanted them to have sex!
Betaed, terribly kindly, and at great personal risk, by the wondrousbelovedranger.
Harry's Lucky Day
****
So.
We’d been questing for a year.
Hogwarts had reopened for a few weeks, but closed again when Death Eaters attacked on a Hogsmeade weekend.
So many students had been hurt, or killed.
Neville and Ginny had led the ex-DA members, of course, and they got most of the third and fourth years to safety.
Neville was horribly injured, but he was brilliant, apparently.
We weren’t there to see it, of course.
Harry had been convinced that the Death Eaters wouldn’t be interested in the school, if he wasn’t there.
Had been convinced that Ginny would be safe there.
No one knew where we were, and it wasn’t until we made a fleeting visit at Christmas, that we learnt that Ginny had been killed.
Of course no one blamed Harry.
No one but Harry.
He became grimmer and more single minded than ever, over the next few months.
He used Sectumsempra on Death Eaters, while Hermione and I still stunned or disarmed them.
I desperately wanted some way to get through to him, but he held Hermione and me at arms length.
Hermione and me.
We had put our relationship on hold, not wanting to upset Harry, but, after we found out about Ginny, Harry put his foot down.
He sat us down at Grimmauld Place and told us that we were in love with each other and that, if we didn’t share a bed that night, he’d leave without us.
Obviously, I’d do anything for Harry, so I slept with Hermione.
She was a bit annoyed, at first. Claimed there was something wrong with having sex just because Harry told us to.
But she came round.
And she came.
And that’s what made me feel guilty.
I had this fantastic sex life.
I hope that Hermione had this fantastic sex life.
And Harry had his right hand.
His birthday was approaching and we were at Grimmauld Place and I tentatively suggested a party or something.
Harry refused.
He spent all day, every day in his room, while Hermione researched in the Black Library and I bothered her.
The day before his birthday, I tracked her down, again.
“We have to do something,” I said.
“What?” she asked, marking her place and looking up from a huge book.
“For Harry’s birthday,” I explained.
“He doesn’t want anything,” she said.
“But he’ll be eighteen,” I complained. “That’s a big deal for Muggles, isn’t it? Maybe we could go to a Muggle club, or something. Death Eaters would never find us there.”
“Can you really see me in a Muggle club?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes,” I smirked. “I’d love to see you in a strip club…”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Actually, I think you should take Harry to a strip club.”
“Hermione!” I gasped.
“Well, it’s a world away from the awful things we’ve seen, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, casually, not believing that my girlfriend was encouraging me to see women stripping naked. “I see what you mean; it’d certainly be a change.”
So, Hermione looked in a Muggle magazine and gave me the name of a club in Muggle London, but near the Leaky Cauldron.
I threw Harry into the shower and handed him the clothes that Hermione had selected for him.
She chose my clothes, too, and I thought we both looked a bit underdressed, but I just supposed Hermione knew what she was doing.
Harry was very dubious about the outfit and the being dragged out to celebrate, but he gave in when Hermione told him he needed a night out with his best mate, like normal people.
I hadn’t told him about the strippers, and I Side Along Apparated him to an alley beside the club.
Sauntering round the corner, we joined the queue of men waiting to pay their money and enter.
Hermione had given me plenty of Muggle money, but I put Harry in charge of it, knowing I’d get it wrong when it came to paying for anything.
I was fascinated with everything I saw, and Hermione had been spot on with the clothes; we were dressed just like everyone else.
We finally moved into the club and Harry bought drinks and we managed to find a table near the narrow stage that bisected the room.
Maybe I am naïve, but the fact that the club was full of men didn’t strike me as odd – they were there to watch strippers, after all.
Harry looked a bit uncomfortable, but he’d had a couple of drinks by the time the music changed to something deep and throbbing and lights started to play over the room.
The curtains at the back of the stage opened and my whoop died in my throat when three scantily dressed blokes strutted onstage.
I looked at Harry to apologize and to blame Hermione, but was stunned by the look on his face.
A look I’d hoped to have on his face by the end of the evening.
He looked shocked, but delighted – almost happy.
He was transfixed during the whole routine – while I couldn’t even look at the stage.
The bloke strippers finished with a flourish I could see out of the corner of my eye, and the audience of obviously gay men cheered and whistled.
Harry turned to me and the delighted look melted from his face. “Ron?” he whispered. “I… um… you… how? How did you know?”
“I… know what? I don’t know anything. Um… it was all Hermione’s idea.” I spluttered to a halt as a stripper fell to his knees on the stage right in front of us, thrusting his scantily dressed, um, genital area at us.
“No, thank you,” I said politely, leaning back in my chair.
Harry smirked and, unbelievably, stood up and tucked some money in the bloke’s, um…pants? Costume?
I’d have to ask Hermione, later.
After I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, sending me to a place like that.
The bloke blew Harry a kiss and danced away, revealing the complete non-existence of the back of his pants… costume.
“Harry?” I croaked.
He shrugged and looked sheepish. “She should have warned you,” he said. “But she’s right – as usual.”
“Wow,” I said.
His smile disappeared and I kicked myself – we were there to make Harry happy. “No, no, no,” I babbled. “It’s fine… you’re fine… being, um… here is fine…”
“I get it, Ron,” he said, shaking his head at my suave man-of-the-world reaction. “It’s fine!”
I laughed. “I had no idea,” I admitted. “There was Ginny. And you never said anything.”
He looked miserable and I kicked myself again, for mentioning her. “It’s fine, though.”
“Yes, we established that,” he said.
I gave up and focussed on blocking out the show.
And thinking about Harry.
My Harry.
My sister's boyfriend.
My dead sister's boyfriend.
My dead sister's ex-boyfriend.
My dead sister's gay ex-boyfriend.
And what the fuck was Hermione thinking of, sending us here without warning me.
I watched Harry drinking and watching the naked men.
Harry's face was flushed and his eyes were shining.
And he laughed.
When had I last heard Harry laugh?
I was a crap best mate.
When had I last made him laugh?
Maybe I should have got naked.
I necked my drink swiftly and blinked back tears.
Bugger.
If you'll pardon the expression.
What if that is why Hermione didn't tell me?
What if that is why Harry didn't tell me?
What if Harry wants me naked?
What if he misses Ginny and red hair and freckles and I'm some sort of substitute?
God.
What if he likes my red hair and freckles and Ginny was the substitute?
What with him apparently being gay.
What was Hermione thinking?
Sending me into this lions' den when she knows that my best mate is in love with me and only used my dead sister because he couldn't have me.
Well, shows how much she knows.
How much Harry knows.
Did either of them ever ask me?
Maybe I'd have said yes.
There's Harry, moping around the house, insisting I shag Hermione, and I'm right there and he never even asked.
What the fuck was I talking about?
I had another drink and watched Harry some more.
Something dreadful must have happened on stage, because he blushed and gave me a huge smile.
Would I have said yes?
I couldn't even look at the stripper blokes, no matter… shag them.
But, Harry.
I looked at Harry.
At the far too tight t-shirt that Hermione had poured him into, that showed off his shoulders and a very bitable collarbone.
What?
I could have a thing for collarbones, rather than blokes.
Except that I don't.
By two a.m. I was hopelessly confused and Harry was either vibrating slightly, or I was drunk enough that he was out of focus.
"'C'mon," I said, putting my hand on his arm. "Let's go home."
He blinked down at my hand and then up at my face and smiled blearily and sentimentally.
We wobbled out of the club and into what passes for fresh air in Muggle London and made our way in companionable silence to the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione had made us promise not to Apparate home drunk, so we Flooed to Grimmauld Place.
I went first, as usual. Harry and Hermione – much to her disgust – still step out just a second too early. You can always tell who has been brought up by Muggles by the way they trip out of your fireplace.
I turned to catch Harry and he literally fell into my arms, the bastard.
His hands were on my chest and mine were wrapped round his biceps and his face was inches away and he was looking at me as if I was right and he was in love with me.
He looked at my mouth and sighed and I shivered as I felt his breath on my lips and his eyes flew up to meet mine.
"I can't," I whispered.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm straight."
"I'm drunk."
"I'm with Hermione."
"I'm in love with you."
I kissed him.
It was amazing.
He moaned and flowed up against me and opened his mouth and I drowned in him.
He hadn't had much practise, poor bloke, and that which he'd had was with my fifteen-year-old sister, so it had better have been pretty tame.
But his kisses were hard and hot and desperate and he grabbed a double handful of my t-shirt to keep me pressed up against him and he made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and I was unbelievably hard and he tasted incredible and he was sucking on my tongue and a voice said "oh" in the doorway.
Hermione.
Harry jumped away from me like he'd been cursed.
"Oh, god," he whispered.
I opened my mouth and looked at Hermione, but found I had nothing to say.
The tight jeans she'd dressed us in showed we were both aroused; she'd caught us clinging to each other and kissing.
It's all your fault didn't sound like a good enough defense.
Harry sank onto a couch and held his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he muttered.
Hermione looked at him, then back up at me. "Ron?" she said.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," I said, watching her carefully and waiting for her to explode.
"It's OK," she said quietly.
"No, it's not!" I spluttered.
"I thought this might happen," she said calmly. "If you realised how Harry felt about you."
Harry looked up at her as if she was crazy. "So you sent us out to ogle male strippers?" he shouted.
"I thought it was the best way to get you to admit it, yes," she shrugged.
"Are you insane?" he gasped.
She snorted. "I waited up to tell you it was OK, Harry. Stop shouting at me."
"How is this OK?" I demanded.
Hermione sighed. "Because I know he needs you," she said. "And I can't stand watching him be so unhappy – knowing I'm making him unhappy."
"Oh, Hermione, you're not," Harry interrupted.
"I am," she said, sitting beside him. "You don't have to be jealous, anymore."
"Hermione," I said, kneeling before them. "I love you."
"I know," she said. "I love you, too. And so does Harry."
I looked back and forth between them. "What are you suggesting? A threesome?" I asked her, hopefully.
"No," she said. "I'm suggesting we share you."
We both stared at her and my heart raced. "You're not serious," I said.
"I really don't mind," she said, taking my hand. "It doesn't even feel like you're being unfaithful. Not with Harry."
"Harry?" I said.
"If it's what you want," he said quietly.
I looked up into his face; he was so nervous and hopeful and I couldn't believe that this was all for me, but I remembered his kiss, remembered the feeling of his body pressed against mine, and I nodded.
He let out a loud breath and Hermione smiled. She kissed us both – Harry on the cheek and me, gently, on the lips – and said, "I'll see you in the morning."
"What, now?" I asked.
"I only interrupted you because you'd both have felt awful if you thought you were cheating on me," she said.
"There is such a thing as being too logical, Hermione, " I complained.
"I believe Harry once insisted you shag me," she said, standing to leave the room. "Well, I'm just repaying the compliment."
She left us gawping at the doorway.
I turned to look up at him.
"We don't have to," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "And face the wrath of Hermione?" I asked, moving closer and kneeling between his legs.
I rested my hands on his thighs and he grabbed me by the t-shirt again. "Oh, god," he murmured. "Are you sure?"
"Was it you I was kissing, earlier?" I asked.
He laughed, nervously. "Ron, this means everything to me," he said."But you're in love with Hermione."
"I do love you, Harry…"
"As a friend," he interrupted.
"And I want you," I said, brushing the ghost of a kiss across his lips.
"As an eighteen-year-old bloke who had someone sucking on his tongue," he complained, half-heartedly.
"It's a start," I pointed out.
He snorted, but I leant in and kissed him and his tongue flickered between my lips, trying to ask mine out to play.
"What d'you want to do?" I whispered.
"Ron, you couldn't even watch those strippers," he whimpered, letting his forehead fall onto my shoulder.
"'Cos I was watching you enjoying the naked men and wondering if that's what you want from me."
"Not the dancing," he laughed. "I've seen you dance."
I huffed. "What d'you want to do?" I asked again.
"I want you to touch me," he whispered and my eyes flicked down to the bulge in his jeans.
I ran my hands up his thighs, until my thumbs met at his balls.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Harry," I said. "I've only just got the hang of girls' bits."
He laughed huskily. "You've had boy's bits all your life," he pointed out.
We both looked down at my bulge.
"Strip," I said firmly, getting to my feet and unzipping my jeans. I moaned as my poor erection finally had room to breathe – and at the sight of Harry hurrying to get naked at my command.
Interesting.
Sex with Hermione was wonderful, but she was far from submissive in bed and I felt there was more going on here than a race to get naked.
Harry stood before me, so wound up he was trembling and so gorgeous I couldn't take my eyes off him.
I sat on the couch and spread my legs. Harry eyed my cock and licked his lips and I had to take a deep, calming breath before I could speak.
"Not yet," I said and he groaned.
Fantastic.
"Sit here," I said, patting the cushion between my thighs and feeling my cock twitch at the look on Harry's face.
He approached me and stood between my parted legs; his cock was right in front of me and I ran my fingertips down his shaft. With an audible swallow, he turned on the spot and sat between my legs and I adjusted my erection to lie between us, nestled between his cheeks, before pulling him back against me.
His naked skin felt wonderful against mine and his head tipped back onto my shoulder as I reached round him and ran my hands down his chest.
My thumbs rubbed at his nipples as he pushed his arse back against me and we both gasped.
My hands moved lower, exploring his belly, his sharp hipbones, stopping on his thighs; he reached down, putting his own hands in front of mine, slipping them down between his legs to hold them further apart.
His legs pressed against mine and he snuggled back closer and my balls were crushed against his arse as my hands finally moved again.
My left hand moved down between his thighs, cupping his balls; my right moved up his cock, learning its shape, finding it delightfully different from my own, though the weight and heat of a cock in my hand was wonderfully familiar.
Harry cried out as I touched him and I dropped my face against his neck, lapping at the sweat forming on his skin as I started stroking him.
"FuckRonyesRonplease," he babbled as I sped up.
He bucked and thrust into my hand and I released his balls with a final squeeze to wrap that arm round his waist and hold him flush against me; pushing my feet against the floor, I rubbed my erection against his arse with every stroke of his cock and he whimpered and trembled and his cock throbbed in my hand as he cried my name and came across his chest.
I held him tight, milking his climax from him, turning my head to meet his as he opened his mouth for my kiss.
He sucked on my tongue as he thrust up into my hand once more and was still.
Limp and drained and sprawled in my arms.
His cock slipped through my fingers and I wrapped both arms round him, not caring that he was splattered with his come, holding him while he came back to earth.
Finally, he blinked up and me and moaned in the back of his throat. "Ron," he whispered. "Fuck."
I smiled and pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. "Brilliant," I said.
He wriggled in my lap and my cock throbbed against him. "What next?" he asked.
"Anything you want," I said, leaning down for a kiss. "You're the one who'd thought about this before tonight – what d'you want to do?"
He blushed.
I raised an eyebrow.
He sat up straighter, moving his legs to straddle mine and putting his hands on my knees.
He leant forward slightly and flexed his arse against my cock. "I want you inside me," he whispered.
I looked down, watching as I slid against him. "Harry?" I asked, my voice cracking embarassingly.
Fuck.
Oh, god.
"In my jeans pocket," he said and I reached for his discarded jeans.
In the pocket was an unopened tube of lubricant.
"I don't know what to do!" I whined.
"On your fingers," Harry said, lying forward on my legs.
I fumbled nervously to unscrew the lid and managed to squirt it all over Harry's lower back as he lay in my lap; Harry sniggered and I told him to shut up.
"Fuck," I muttered, scooping it up and smearing it between his cheeks and slathering it on my cock.
Harry stopped sniggering.
I held my cock in place and grasped his hip as he stood and lowered himself onto me.
I fought my eyelids as they tried to close, desperate to watch as I entered him.
Harry moaned and dug his fingers into my leg and fuck the heat of his body surrounded me and I moaned and I was fully inside him and he was sitting in my lap and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Oh, Harry," I whispered into his hair.
His head tipped back and I pressed my cheek against his."Is this OK?" I murmured.
"It's amazing," he said. "You're inside me."
I kissed his neck and he took a deep breath and started moving.
It was so tight and like nothing I had ever felt and I only lasted a couple of minutes before I grabbed him by the waist and held tight and thrust into him as I came, babbling nonsense into his hair.
Letting my cock slip out of him, he turned in my lap and I held him as I tried to get my breathing under control.
"Harry?" I said finally. "Why was there lube in your pocket?"
He leant back against me. "I bought it at the club," he said. "Just in case I got lucky."
I snorted and stole another kiss. "Yeah?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I just never dreamt I'd be this lucky."
Title: Harry's Lucky Day
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3500
Happy birthday to my adorable
magicofisis.Somehow it is a year since her last birthday.
I think she must have used her powers to speed up time, or something, in the hope that Ron and Harry would shag for her, once more.
I must say, they fought against it – OK, so I knew that Ron being with Hermione would complicate matters, but they kept not getting into bed with each other – and OK, Hermione may be a tad OOC, but you wanted them to have sex!
Betaed, terribly kindly, and at great personal risk, by the wondrous
belovedranger.Harry's Lucky Day
****
So.
We’d been questing for a year.
Hogwarts had reopened for a few weeks, but closed again when Death Eaters attacked on a Hogsmeade weekend.
So many students had been hurt, or killed.
Neville and Ginny had led the ex-DA members, of course, and they got most of the third and fourth years to safety.
Neville was horribly injured, but he was brilliant, apparently.
We weren’t there to see it, of course.
Harry had been convinced that the Death Eaters wouldn’t be interested in the school, if he wasn’t there.
Had been convinced that Ginny would be safe there.
No one knew where we were, and it wasn’t until we made a fleeting visit at Christmas, that we learnt that Ginny had been killed.
Of course no one blamed Harry.
No one but Harry.
He became grimmer and more single minded than ever, over the next few months.
He used Sectumsempra on Death Eaters, while Hermione and I still stunned or disarmed them.
I desperately wanted some way to get through to him, but he held Hermione and me at arms length.
Hermione and me.
We had put our relationship on hold, not wanting to upset Harry, but, after we found out about Ginny, Harry put his foot down.
He sat us down at Grimmauld Place and told us that we were in love with each other and that, if we didn’t share a bed that night, he’d leave without us.
Obviously, I’d do anything for Harry, so I slept with Hermione.
She was a bit annoyed, at first. Claimed there was something wrong with having sex just because Harry told us to.
But she came round.
And she came.
And that’s what made me feel guilty.
I had this fantastic sex life.
I hope that Hermione had this fantastic sex life.
And Harry had his right hand.
His birthday was approaching and we were at Grimmauld Place and I tentatively suggested a party or something.
Harry refused.
He spent all day, every day in his room, while Hermione researched in the Black Library and I bothered her.
The day before his birthday, I tracked her down, again.
“We have to do something,” I said.
“What?” she asked, marking her place and looking up from a huge book.
“For Harry’s birthday,” I explained.
“He doesn’t want anything,” she said.
“But he’ll be eighteen,” I complained. “That’s a big deal for Muggles, isn’t it? Maybe we could go to a Muggle club, or something. Death Eaters would never find us there.”
“Can you really see me in a Muggle club?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes,” I smirked. “I’d love to see you in a strip club…”
She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Actually, I think you should take Harry to a strip club.”
“Hermione!” I gasped.
“Well, it’s a world away from the awful things we’ve seen, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, casually, not believing that my girlfriend was encouraging me to see women stripping naked. “I see what you mean; it’d certainly be a change.”
So, Hermione looked in a Muggle magazine and gave me the name of a club in Muggle London, but near the Leaky Cauldron.
I threw Harry into the shower and handed him the clothes that Hermione had selected for him.
She chose my clothes, too, and I thought we both looked a bit underdressed, but I just supposed Hermione knew what she was doing.
Harry was very dubious about the outfit and the being dragged out to celebrate, but he gave in when Hermione told him he needed a night out with his best mate, like normal people.
I hadn’t told him about the strippers, and I Side Along Apparated him to an alley beside the club.
Sauntering round the corner, we joined the queue of men waiting to pay their money and enter.
Hermione had given me plenty of Muggle money, but I put Harry in charge of it, knowing I’d get it wrong when it came to paying for anything.
I was fascinated with everything I saw, and Hermione had been spot on with the clothes; we were dressed just like everyone else.
We finally moved into the club and Harry bought drinks and we managed to find a table near the narrow stage that bisected the room.
Maybe I am naïve, but the fact that the club was full of men didn’t strike me as odd – they were there to watch strippers, after all.
Harry looked a bit uncomfortable, but he’d had a couple of drinks by the time the music changed to something deep and throbbing and lights started to play over the room.
The curtains at the back of the stage opened and my whoop died in my throat when three scantily dressed blokes strutted onstage.
I looked at Harry to apologize and to blame Hermione, but was stunned by the look on his face.
A look I’d hoped to have on his face by the end of the evening.
He looked shocked, but delighted – almost happy.
He was transfixed during the whole routine – while I couldn’t even look at the stage.
The bloke strippers finished with a flourish I could see out of the corner of my eye, and the audience of obviously gay men cheered and whistled.
Harry turned to me and the delighted look melted from his face. “Ron?” he whispered. “I… um… you… how? How did you know?”
“I… know what? I don’t know anything. Um… it was all Hermione’s idea.” I spluttered to a halt as a stripper fell to his knees on the stage right in front of us, thrusting his scantily dressed, um, genital area at us.
“No, thank you,” I said politely, leaning back in my chair.
Harry smirked and, unbelievably, stood up and tucked some money in the bloke’s, um…pants? Costume?
I’d have to ask Hermione, later.
After I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, sending me to a place like that.
The bloke blew Harry a kiss and danced away, revealing the complete non-existence of the back of his pants… costume.
“Harry?” I croaked.
He shrugged and looked sheepish. “She should have warned you,” he said. “But she’s right – as usual.”
“Wow,” I said.
His smile disappeared and I kicked myself – we were there to make Harry happy. “No, no, no,” I babbled. “It’s fine… you’re fine… being, um… here is fine…”
“I get it, Ron,” he said, shaking his head at my suave man-of-the-world reaction. “It’s fine!”
I laughed. “I had no idea,” I admitted. “There was Ginny. And you never said anything.”
He looked miserable and I kicked myself again, for mentioning her. “It’s fine, though.”
“Yes, we established that,” he said.
I gave up and focussed on blocking out the show.
And thinking about Harry.
My Harry.
My sister's boyfriend.
My dead sister's boyfriend.
My dead sister's ex-boyfriend.
My dead sister's gay ex-boyfriend.
And what the fuck was Hermione thinking of, sending us here without warning me.
I watched Harry drinking and watching the naked men.
Harry's face was flushed and his eyes were shining.
And he laughed.
When had I last heard Harry laugh?
I was a crap best mate.
When had I last made him laugh?
Maybe I should have got naked.
I necked my drink swiftly and blinked back tears.
Bugger.
If you'll pardon the expression.
What if that is why Hermione didn't tell me?
What if that is why Harry didn't tell me?
What if Harry wants me naked?
What if he misses Ginny and red hair and freckles and I'm some sort of substitute?
God.
What if he likes my red hair and freckles and Ginny was the substitute?
What with him apparently being gay.
What was Hermione thinking?
Sending me into this lions' den when she knows that my best mate is in love with me and only used my dead sister because he couldn't have me.
Well, shows how much she knows.
How much Harry knows.
Did either of them ever ask me?
Maybe I'd have said yes.
There's Harry, moping around the house, insisting I shag Hermione, and I'm right there and he never even asked.
What the fuck was I talking about?
I had another drink and watched Harry some more.
Something dreadful must have happened on stage, because he blushed and gave me a huge smile.
Would I have said yes?
I couldn't even look at the stripper blokes, no matter… shag them.
But, Harry.
I looked at Harry.
At the far too tight t-shirt that Hermione had poured him into, that showed off his shoulders and a very bitable collarbone.
What?
I could have a thing for collarbones, rather than blokes.
Except that I don't.
By two a.m. I was hopelessly confused and Harry was either vibrating slightly, or I was drunk enough that he was out of focus.
"'C'mon," I said, putting my hand on his arm. "Let's go home."
He blinked down at my hand and then up at my face and smiled blearily and sentimentally.
We wobbled out of the club and into what passes for fresh air in Muggle London and made our way in companionable silence to the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione had made us promise not to Apparate home drunk, so we Flooed to Grimmauld Place.
I went first, as usual. Harry and Hermione – much to her disgust – still step out just a second too early. You can always tell who has been brought up by Muggles by the way they trip out of your fireplace.
I turned to catch Harry and he literally fell into my arms, the bastard.
His hands were on my chest and mine were wrapped round his biceps and his face was inches away and he was looking at me as if I was right and he was in love with me.
He looked at my mouth and sighed and I shivered as I felt his breath on my lips and his eyes flew up to meet mine.
"I can't," I whispered.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I'm straight."
"I'm drunk."
"I'm with Hermione."
"I'm in love with you."
I kissed him.
It was amazing.
He moaned and flowed up against me and opened his mouth and I drowned in him.
He hadn't had much practise, poor bloke, and that which he'd had was with my fifteen-year-old sister, so it had better have been pretty tame.
But his kisses were hard and hot and desperate and he grabbed a double handful of my t-shirt to keep me pressed up against him and he made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat and I was unbelievably hard and he tasted incredible and he was sucking on my tongue and a voice said "oh" in the doorway.
Hermione.
Harry jumped away from me like he'd been cursed.
"Oh, god," he whispered.
I opened my mouth and looked at Hermione, but found I had nothing to say.
The tight jeans she'd dressed us in showed we were both aroused; she'd caught us clinging to each other and kissing.
It's all your fault didn't sound like a good enough defense.
Harry sank onto a couch and held his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he muttered.
Hermione looked at him, then back up at me. "Ron?" she said.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," I said, watching her carefully and waiting for her to explode.
"It's OK," she said quietly.
"No, it's not!" I spluttered.
"I thought this might happen," she said calmly. "If you realised how Harry felt about you."
Harry looked up at her as if she was crazy. "So you sent us out to ogle male strippers?" he shouted.
"I thought it was the best way to get you to admit it, yes," she shrugged.
"Are you insane?" he gasped.
She snorted. "I waited up to tell you it was OK, Harry. Stop shouting at me."
"How is this OK?" I demanded.
Hermione sighed. "Because I know he needs you," she said. "And I can't stand watching him be so unhappy – knowing I'm making him unhappy."
"Oh, Hermione, you're not," Harry interrupted.
"I am," she said, sitting beside him. "You don't have to be jealous, anymore."
"Hermione," I said, kneeling before them. "I love you."
"I know," she said. "I love you, too. And so does Harry."
I looked back and forth between them. "What are you suggesting? A threesome?" I asked her, hopefully.
"No," she said. "I'm suggesting we share you."
We both stared at her and my heart raced. "You're not serious," I said.
"I really don't mind," she said, taking my hand. "It doesn't even feel like you're being unfaithful. Not with Harry."
"Harry?" I said.
"If it's what you want," he said quietly.
I looked up into his face; he was so nervous and hopeful and I couldn't believe that this was all for me, but I remembered his kiss, remembered the feeling of his body pressed against mine, and I nodded.
He let out a loud breath and Hermione smiled. She kissed us both – Harry on the cheek and me, gently, on the lips – and said, "I'll see you in the morning."
"What, now?" I asked.
"I only interrupted you because you'd both have felt awful if you thought you were cheating on me," she said.
"There is such a thing as being too logical, Hermione, " I complained.
"I believe Harry once insisted you shag me," she said, standing to leave the room. "Well, I'm just repaying the compliment."
She left us gawping at the doorway.
I turned to look up at him.
"We don't have to," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. "And face the wrath of Hermione?" I asked, moving closer and kneeling between his legs.
I rested my hands on his thighs and he grabbed me by the t-shirt again. "Oh, god," he murmured. "Are you sure?"
"Was it you I was kissing, earlier?" I asked.
He laughed, nervously. "Ron, this means everything to me," he said."But you're in love with Hermione."
"I do love you, Harry…"
"As a friend," he interrupted.
"And I want you," I said, brushing the ghost of a kiss across his lips.
"As an eighteen-year-old bloke who had someone sucking on his tongue," he complained, half-heartedly.
"It's a start," I pointed out.
He snorted, but I leant in and kissed him and his tongue flickered between my lips, trying to ask mine out to play.
"What d'you want to do?" I whispered.
"Ron, you couldn't even watch those strippers," he whimpered, letting his forehead fall onto my shoulder.
"'Cos I was watching you enjoying the naked men and wondering if that's what you want from me."
"Not the dancing," he laughed. "I've seen you dance."
I huffed. "What d'you want to do?" I asked again.
"I want you to touch me," he whispered and my eyes flicked down to the bulge in his jeans.
I ran my hands up his thighs, until my thumbs met at his balls.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Harry," I said. "I've only just got the hang of girls' bits."
He laughed huskily. "You've had boy's bits all your life," he pointed out.
We both looked down at my bulge.
"Strip," I said firmly, getting to my feet and unzipping my jeans. I moaned as my poor erection finally had room to breathe – and at the sight of Harry hurrying to get naked at my command.
Interesting.
Sex with Hermione was wonderful, but she was far from submissive in bed and I felt there was more going on here than a race to get naked.
Harry stood before me, so wound up he was trembling and so gorgeous I couldn't take my eyes off him.
I sat on the couch and spread my legs. Harry eyed my cock and licked his lips and I had to take a deep, calming breath before I could speak.
"Not yet," I said and he groaned.
Fantastic.
"Sit here," I said, patting the cushion between my thighs and feeling my cock twitch at the look on Harry's face.
He approached me and stood between my parted legs; his cock was right in front of me and I ran my fingertips down his shaft. With an audible swallow, he turned on the spot and sat between my legs and I adjusted my erection to lie between us, nestled between his cheeks, before pulling him back against me.
His naked skin felt wonderful against mine and his head tipped back onto my shoulder as I reached round him and ran my hands down his chest.
My thumbs rubbed at his nipples as he pushed his arse back against me and we both gasped.
My hands moved lower, exploring his belly, his sharp hipbones, stopping on his thighs; he reached down, putting his own hands in front of mine, slipping them down between his legs to hold them further apart.
His legs pressed against mine and he snuggled back closer and my balls were crushed against his arse as my hands finally moved again.
My left hand moved down between his thighs, cupping his balls; my right moved up his cock, learning its shape, finding it delightfully different from my own, though the weight and heat of a cock in my hand was wonderfully familiar.
Harry cried out as I touched him and I dropped my face against his neck, lapping at the sweat forming on his skin as I started stroking him.
"FuckRonyesRonplease," he babbled as I sped up.
He bucked and thrust into my hand and I released his balls with a final squeeze to wrap that arm round his waist and hold him flush against me; pushing my feet against the floor, I rubbed my erection against his arse with every stroke of his cock and he whimpered and trembled and his cock throbbed in my hand as he cried my name and came across his chest.
I held him tight, milking his climax from him, turning my head to meet his as he opened his mouth for my kiss.
He sucked on my tongue as he thrust up into my hand once more and was still.
Limp and drained and sprawled in my arms.
His cock slipped through my fingers and I wrapped both arms round him, not caring that he was splattered with his come, holding him while he came back to earth.
Finally, he blinked up and me and moaned in the back of his throat. "Ron," he whispered. "Fuck."
I smiled and pushed his sweaty hair out of his face. "Brilliant," I said.
He wriggled in my lap and my cock throbbed against him. "What next?" he asked.
"Anything you want," I said, leaning down for a kiss. "You're the one who'd thought about this before tonight – what d'you want to do?"
He blushed.
I raised an eyebrow.
He sat up straighter, moving his legs to straddle mine and putting his hands on my knees.
He leant forward slightly and flexed his arse against my cock. "I want you inside me," he whispered.
I looked down, watching as I slid against him. "Harry?" I asked, my voice cracking embarassingly.
Fuck.
Oh, god.
"In my jeans pocket," he said and I reached for his discarded jeans.
In the pocket was an unopened tube of lubricant.
"I don't know what to do!" I whined.
"On your fingers," Harry said, lying forward on my legs.
I fumbled nervously to unscrew the lid and managed to squirt it all over Harry's lower back as he lay in my lap; Harry sniggered and I told him to shut up.
"Fuck," I muttered, scooping it up and smearing it between his cheeks and slathering it on my cock.
Harry stopped sniggering.
I held my cock in place and grasped his hip as he stood and lowered himself onto me.
I fought my eyelids as they tried to close, desperate to watch as I entered him.
Harry moaned and dug his fingers into my leg and fuck the heat of his body surrounded me and I moaned and I was fully inside him and he was sitting in my lap and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Oh, Harry," I whispered into his hair.
His head tipped back and I pressed my cheek against his."Is this OK?" I murmured.
"It's amazing," he said. "You're inside me."
I kissed his neck and he took a deep breath and started moving.
It was so tight and like nothing I had ever felt and I only lasted a couple of minutes before I grabbed him by the waist and held tight and thrust into him as I came, babbling nonsense into his hair.
Letting my cock slip out of him, he turned in my lap and I held him as I tried to get my breathing under control.
"Harry?" I said finally. "Why was there lube in your pocket?"
He leant back against me. "I bought it at the club," he said. "Just in case I got lucky."
I snorted and stole another kiss. "Yeah?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I just never dreamt I'd be this lucky."