shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-02-05 01:00:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Epiphany - H/R - NC-17
Title: Epiphany
Author:shocfix
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 4600
Rating: NC-17
Written for the![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif)
harry_and_ron Christmas Challenge.
Betaed, as always, by myrosina_alcona and magicofisis - I have missed them so much, because the last 149 things I wrote were posted unbetaed, and I don’t know if something is hot until rosina_alcona has found the ‘God, Ron is sexy” moment.
Um, I’m sure a Christmas fic is supposed to be more childlike and snowy and innocent, but sod it.
Ron got really crude and rather slutty.
But at least the title is clever.
Epiphany
****
We should have done this years ago.
What had we been thinking?
Well, we’d been thinking about girls.
Dreaming about soft curves and bouncy breasts.
Wondering what they felt like.
How pointless was that?
Because none of the soft, curvy, bouncy breasts I’d touched had been Harry’s.
Well, no.
But the thing was, anything of Harry’s was better than anything of anybody else’s.
I’d been amazed at being allowed to touch Lavender’s breasts; over her jumper, of course.
They felt unlike anything I’d ever touched, and they filled my hands quite beautifully.
But that was it, really.
Lavender did seem to enjoy it, but it was only Lavender.
Hermione’s breasts were much smaller. She had pale pink nipples that tasted fantastic, and she made brilliant noises when I did it.
And I adored Hermione.
I loved making her feel good.
But the actual breasts didn’t do anything for me.
I’d never really given it much thought.
Obviously touching girls’ soft bits was important.
So touch them I did.
All sorts of pretty girls that were impressed by a lopsided smile and a professional Quidditch player’s uniform.
With breasts of all shapes and sizes.
The girls; not the Quidditch player.
They had other soft bits, of course.
Remarkably strange and just a little bit scary bits that my brothers had always recommended highly.
Bits that somehow sounded much more attractive when described breathlessly in an Irish brogue, late at night.
Bits that I dutifully touched.
And more.
The sex part was pretty good.
The wet warmth surrounding my cock was always worth it, and I closed my eyes and let my body enjoy itself.
But I’d wasted close to ten years putting my fingers and my tongue into places I wasn’t all that impressed by, and then wondering what I was supposed to do with them afterwards.
Wondering if it’d seem rude to wash my hands.
And clean my teeth.
Wondering why none of my brothers had ever mentioned this problem.
So what was different tonight?
Tonight I’d arrived at Harry’s flat unannounced.
Not an unusual occurrence, but my practise had finished quite late, even though it was Christmas Eve. I was still thrumming with adrenaline and I took a hot shower and Apparated over to see my best mate.
The most important person in my life, Harry.
Always had been, always would be.
Harry had a flat in Muggle London and I loved to watch television with him.
You wouldn’t believe some of the things that Muggles got up to.
Like the Muggles on the screen when I popped into the room behind Harry’s couch.
Harry had explained porn to his poor, confused friend.
Muggles made whole films of people pretending to have sex.
Pretending to enjoy it, too, which made me feel uncomfortable.
Which, in retrospect, was significant.
The men were moaning and thrusting and obviously thinking of something else while trying to keep an erection, while the girls who were writhing under them were probably running through their shopping lists in their heads.
They weren’t actually enjoying it any more than I did when I went down on a girl.
Which was too close for comfort.
So, tonight, when I arrived in Harry’s flat and saw what Harry was watching, well, I didn’t know what to think.
Was it the fact that Harry’s jeans were undone and he was running his thumb over the head of his cock as he watched television?
Was it the fact that my cock twitched significantly when I looked at the screen?
Or was it the fact that the screen showed two men having sex.
All this registered in the second before Harry reacted to the sound of my Apparition.
“Shit,” Harry yelped, covering himself with one hand and fumbling for the remote control with the other.
“Um,” I said, sitting on the arm of the couch and gawping down at my friend.
“I… it… um… it’s not how it looks,” Harry eventually stammered, pulling his shirt down over his lap.
I raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No!”
“It looked like you were wanking over gay porn,” I said.
Harry blinked helplessly. “Then possibly it is how it looks,” he whispered.
I snorted.
Harry winced and turned away and I slid down off the armrest. “Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
Harry shrugged one shoulder.
“So,” I said. “Anything you need to tell me, Harry?”
“No,” Harry said swiftly.
I picked up the remote control and turned the television back on.
We sat side by side and watched a slender man with messy black hair throwing back his head in ecstasy as another man wrapped his hand around his cock and took the head deep in his throat, sucking hungrily.
Harry whimpered. “Please Ron,” he begged.
Obviously he meant, ‘Please, Ron, don’t make me do this; this is humiliating; I’m sorry you had to find out like this; I never wanted you to know.”
But it went straight to my cock and I heard, “Please Ron, that could be us; you could make me feel like that.”
And my cock was harder than it had been in years.
The man on the television was stroking the other man’s cock firmly with one hand while cupping his balls with the other, one finger sliding lower.
I was impressed.
I knew how to do this.
I could stroke my cock; I could roll my balls between my fingers.
I knew how it felt.
Knew how good it would feel if I did it to Harry.
If I did it to Harry?
Did I want to do it to Harry?
The man on the television took his lover’s cock in his mouth again and closed his eyes in bliss.
Yes.
Yes, I really, really wanted to do this to Harry.
Was this it?
Was it really this simple?
I had no idea what girls enjoyed, no idea how it felt for them, no real interest in being the one to make them feel that way.
But I knew what it felt like when my cock thrust into a hot eager mouth, what it felt like to come deep in a throat that swallowed around me.
Knew how firmly to stroke a cock; knew that slipping a finger inside myself as I stroked would send sparks up my spine.
And I knew I could do this for Harry.
Harry made a distressed noise. “Ron, don’t make me watch more,” he said. “You’re being mean.”
“No,” I breathed, shaking myself and turning off the television. “I’m sorry.”
Harry buried his face in his hands. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this now, Ron,” he said thickly. “Can… could you just go.”
“No!” I said.
“Why are you being like this?” Harry asked.
I reached for Harry’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. He looked hurt and confused.
“No, no, no,” I said, slipping onto the floor and kneeling in front of Harry. “I… the film distracted me, I admit it – it’s not something I’ve ever thought about before – I never realised.”
“Well, I never said anything,” Harry muttered, looking anywhere but my eyes.
“Not you,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Not that I never realised it about you, Harry. I never realised it about me.”
Harry snorted. “Very funny,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re turned on by gay porn?” Harry scoffed.
“Yeah,” I said.
Harry snorted again.
“What?” I said. “I know if I’m turned on or not, don’t I?”
“Ron,” Harry said gently, looking down at where I was still holding his wrists tightly. “You have slept with more women than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, well,” I shrugged. “You have killed more Dark Lords than anyone I know, but that doesn’t mean you particularly enjoy it.”
Harry almost choked. “That is just insane!” he protested.
I shrugged again. “I admit my exploits would shock my mum if she ever found out,” I said and Harry laughed shakily. “But there was always something missing.”
“Like what?” Harry croaked.
I let go of one of his wrists, slid my hand under his shirt and wrapped my fingers around his cock. “Like this,” I whispered.
Harry yelped and pushed my hand away. “You… you can’t just… Ron, no…” He got up and tucked himself back in his trousers. “No,” he said. “You cannot do this, it’s not fair.”
This left me kneeling at his feet, my face very much at crotch level.
“And get up,” Harry snapped.
I leapt to my feet and tried to take his hand, but Harry wrenched it away and went to stand by the fireplace, his hands plunged into his pockets and a muscle in his cheek twitching.
“I don’t know if you’re just feeling lonely on Christmas Eve or something, but weren’t there any groupies hanging round after practise?” he said.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But I’d already fucked them all.”
Harry half-laughed. “Christ, Ron,” he said. “You’re unbelievable.”
I shrugged. “Look, I don’t fuck anyone who doesn’t want it,” I said.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Then what just happened, here?” he asked quietly. “You’d already fucked everyone else you saw today?”
“No,” I complained. “It wasn’t supposed to sound like that. It’s just that you asked about the groupies!”
“I didn’t ask you to make a pass at me,” Harry said. “Really, all you needed to do was never mention what you’d caught me watching. We can still stay friends.”
I glared at him. “Of course we’re still friends,” I snapped. “Nothing’d change that.”
“Then what just happened?”
I ran my hands through my hair. “I didn’t mean that about the groupies,” I said. “I had a good practice and I felt great and I thought I’d come here and drag you out for a drink; and, yeah, there were some girls at the practise ground, and I guess I have slept with them all – but the Cannons don’t have all that many groupies.”
Harry snorted.
I huffed. “But I didn’t come here because I’d slept with them all – I came here to see you. I just didn’t expect you to be watching gay porn.”
“Yeah, well.”
“And I know for a fact that you’ve slept with women,” I pointed out.
“Not as many as you have,” Harry countered. “But, uh, it doesn’t really do it for me, no,” he admitted, looking anywhere but at me.
“You never said,” I murmured.
Harry shrugged. “Well, all I need is that extra publicity – the Prophet would love it.”
“Not even to me, Harry.”
“I didn’t want to freak you out; you’re such a ladies’ man,” he snorted.
“But I’m not,” I protested.
Harry gave me a very pointed look. “How many women have you slept with this week?” he asked.
“Depends what you mean ‘slept with’,” I stalled. “It’s Christmas, and there’ve been parties all week, and sometimes you just slip into the locker room or something for a blow-job.”
Harry blinked at me. “Those count,” he decided.
“Um,” I looked at the ceiling, frowning slightly. “Six,” I admitted.
“In a week?” Harry asked. “Christ.”
“There were four parties,” I said, defensively. “And that’s what happens at parties. It’s not a typical week.”
“And how many men have you slept with this week?” Harry asked.
“None,” I said. “But I’d never thought about it before I saw you tonight.”
“That’s not how it works,” Harry protested.
“So, you’ve thought about it before?” I asked.
Harry snorted. “Yes, Ron,” he said. “I’ve always thought about it.”
“And you’ve… done stuff about it?”
“Yes, I’ve had sex with men,” Harry said clearly. “Muggles. I wouldn’t do it in the Wizarding World.”
“So, no one knows?”
“Ginny knows,” Harry said.
“Ginny?” I demanded. “Why d’you tell Ginny?”
“I didn’t so much tell her as let it slip,” Harry muttered.
“Let what slip?” I asked.
“Forget it,” Harry said.
“No, really, I’m interested.”
Harry huffed at him. “Fine,” Harry muttered. “I called out the wrong name, OK?”
“Oh,” I said. “While you were…” I gestured at Harry’s crotch.
Harry frowned. “Yes, while we were.”
“Yikes,” I said. “And she was OK with this?”
“No, of course she wasn’t OK – she was livid,” Harry said. “But we talked about it, and she’s been great. It was a long time ago, now. It’s been good to have someone I can talk to about stuff.”
“You can talk to me,” I said.
“Hardly,” Harry scoffed.
“Why not?”
“Because it was your name I cried, OK?” Harry said desperately.
He flushed scarlet and tried to leave the room, but I followed him in two long-legged strides and caught his arm.
“Me?” I whispered.
Harry looked down at the long fingers wrapped around his wrist and his eyes closed with pain.
“Of course, you,” he whispered. “It’s always been you; why d’you think I got confused when I was with Ginny?”
I whistled.
“But that’s brilliant,” I said.
Harry pulled his arm away and glared at him. “Not this again,” he begged. “I can’t.”
“But you want it, too,” I whined.
Harry’s fingers ran over his wrist, where he could still feel my hand touching him.
“You don’t want me, Ron,” he said quietly, sitting back down on the couch and looking very small and lost.
“Please, let me try,” I said.
“What?” Harry snorted. “Is this supposed to be my Christmas present?”
“No,” I protested. “Your Christmas present is Cannons tickets.”
“Cheap bastard,” Harry muttered.
I went and knelt in front of him. “At least let me explain,” I said.
Harry shrugged.
“I know I may give the impression that I fancy women,” I said. “But it’s just that I’m supposed to, you know?”
“You are supposed to fuck six women a week?” Harry scoffed. “That’s more than three hundred a year.”
“Blimey, is it?” I shook my head slowly. “That’s scary. But I meant that I have all these brothers telling me about their birds, telling me about breasts and other bits. And at school, well, we’d listen to Seamus talking about girls. There was so much pressure to do it.”
“Well, yeah,” Harry interrupted. “What d’you think that was like for me? Hearing all that and wanting you.”
I bit my lip. “Oh,” I said. “Well, yeah. So we did what we were expected to, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s not that good, is it?”
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes ostentatiously. “That is why I have done it exactly three times,” he pointed out. “I admitted to myself that it just wasn’t for me. You’ve done it, what, three thousand times.”
“I said that this wasn’t a normal week!” I protested.
Harry snorted.
I ploughed on. “So I did it, and apparently I am good at it, and there aren’t that many things that I get complimented on, really, are there?”
“You do it for the feedback?” Harry asked.
“Sort of,” I said. “I mean, it’s what we’re supposed to enjoy doing, and the girl seems to enjoy it, even when I’m bored.”
“Bored? That’s a lovely compliment.”
“Well, breasts are OK, but some girls could happily have you touch their breasts all night, and then my mind wanders. And,” I pulled a face, “other bits are just weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, and I never know what to do afterwards,” I said earnestly. “I’m sure they’d think I was rude if I washed my hands.”
Harry sniggered.
“And I don’t like the taste and I’m always dying to clean my teeth.”
Harry choked. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he said faintly.
“And really I like blow-jobs best. Don’t you think that that is significant?” I asked eagerly.
Harry looked down at my smiling face and sighed. “Why is that significant, Ron?” he asked.
“Because that is the only bit that needn’t be a girl!”
“Not good enough,” Harry said sternly.
I made a dismissive noise. “Look, Harry,” I said. “When I got here tonight, I saw the two hottest things I have ever seen – two men having sex on your television, and you touching yourself.”
Harry frowned at me.
“And I just thought, ‘Oh my God, I can do that.’ Because it just cuts out the middlewoman, doesn’t it?” I beamed up at my friend, who snorted again.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.
“It means I know what feels good to a man,” I explained. “I know how to make you feel good.”
“Oh, God,” Harry murmured. “But it never occurred to you before.”
I shrugged. “No, it just didn’t,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, now.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cos it’ll kill me if we do this and you hate it.”
I leant forwards, with a hand on each of Harry’s thighs, thumbs rubbing in circles as I pushed them apart and moved closer. “So sure,” I whispered.
“But you can’t go from straight to actually sleeping with a bloke just like that,” Harry protested, leaning back against the cushions to keep some distance from the smiling mouth bearing down on him.
“No, I couldn’t just go and pick up some random man,” I admitted, pressing him down onto the couch. “But I can go from straight to you.”
And I kissed him.
And Harry whimpered and his hands came up to grab a handful of my shirt and hold me in place.
Our lips just brushed softly against each other at first, and Harry kept his eyes wide open; then I deepened the kiss and Harry sighed into my mouth as he tried to relax.
After a little while, I leant back to look at him. “Stop frowning, Harry,” I said. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Is it OK?” Harry asked.
“It’s kissing, I know I like kissing,” I said. “Let’s try something else.”
And I pulled Harry’s hands free from my shirt and undid the row of buttons, before reaching for Harry’s and doing the same.
I opened his shirt and ran my hands over Harry’s chest.
Harry’s breath hitched as his eyes followed their path. My fingers flexed as they skimmed his nipples and Harry twitched.
“Y’know what is annoying about breasts?” I asked, bending down to take a nipple in my mouth and sucking on it until Harry groaned.
“What?” Harry managed, his hands settling in my hair and entangling themselves.
“They don’t do anything,” I said, licking my way across to Harry’s other nipple, and feeling the muscles tense.
Harry snorted. “Like, card tricks?” he hazarded.
“No, prat,” I laughed, pulling back to watch my fingers playing with Harry’s chest. “I mean they are just dead weight in your hand. But I can feel your chest muscles moving under my mouth, that’s excellent.”
Harry laughed. “Um, good,” he said, suddenly arching against me as I pinched both nipples.
“And I’m not usually allowed to pinch that hard,” I smirked as Harry twisted under me. “And girls never realise I want them to pinch that hard.”
“Never?” Harry gasped. “Never in three thousand women?”
“It is not three thousand,” I said sternly, pinching harder. “And yes, just once; Hermione.”
Harry snorted. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “She read about it in a book.”
“Yup,” I laughed.
Harry smiled and relaxed a little bit, watching me lying in his lap and petting him with every sign of enjoyment.
Then I wriggled backwards, over the bulge that had been poking me in the stomach.
Harry tensed again but I lowered my head and kissed a trail down his chest, distracting him so effectively that he didn’t realise I had undone his trousers until my mouth brushed over the erection straining inside his boxers.
“How did you do that?” Harry gasped.
I looked up, slipping one hand inside Harry’s jeans and stroking him “Do what?” I said.
“I… I didn’t notice you unzipping me,” Harry stuttered.
“Well, I have had a lot of practise in undressing people,” I admitted, tugging at Harry’s jeans and boxers until he lifted his hips and let them slide down his legs and be cast aside.
This left me perilously close to his cock and Harry eyed me nervously.
I snorted at him. “Harry, why are you the one who’s nervous, here? You’ve done this before.”
“Because this means the world to me, and I don’t want to just be an experiment to you,” Harry said pitifully.
“You are not an experiment; you’re the person I care most about in the whole world, right?” I demanded.
“Right,” Harry muttered. “But not like this.”
“So like this,” I assured him, running the heel of my hand up and down his cock till he was almost hypnotised.
“But, Ron,” Harry complained. “You never have relationships; you don’t have a monogamous bone in your body.”
I grinned evilly.
“I know just what to do about that,” I smirked. “Let’s see what happens if we put this monogamous boner in my body.” And I parted my lips and took Harry in my mouth.
Harry half laughed, half groaned as the wet heat engulfed his cock.
It wasn’t a perfect blow-job; I knew what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“I don’t give girls enough credit,” I said, pausing for a breather. “There are many girls out there I should owl and thank.”
Harry snorted and thrust his hips up at me.
“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, and Harry rolled his eyes – first in amusement and then in apparent ecstasy as I took him in my mouth again.
Harry’s scent filled my nostrils and Harry tasted fantastic.
“Though taste-wise, there is no contest,” I said, letting Harry slip out of my mouth again, and idly wanking him as I spoke. “If I taste this good, then all the girls I’ve gone down on owe me an owl, too.”
Harry whimpered and I laughed.
Once I had got the hang of moving my tongue and lips and hand in a rhythm that had Harry moaning and gasping beneath me, I sucked wetly on two fingers and let them slip between Harry’s arse cheeks.
I hoped that this was what Harry wanted, and, judging by the way Harry slid lower in the couch, letting his arse hang over the edge and giving me easier access, I seemed to be on the right track.
Yes, judging by the way Harry groaned as my finger slipped inside him, by the way he reached down to hold my head in place, by the way he thrust down onto my hand and up into my mouth until he gripped one tightly and jerked inside the other.
I sucked hard as Harry throbbed in my mouth.
I swallowed each pulse, letting my throat close around the head of his cock.
When Harry stopped twitching, I pulled my fingers out of him and lifted my head, sucking him clean as his cock slipped out of my mouth.
Harry lay beneath me, boneless and debauched and spent, and I had never seen anything so beautiful.
And I had done it.
All I’d ever wanted was to make Harry happy, and no, I hadn’t meant it like this, but God, I should have.
Because Harry was dragging sleepy eyes open and gazing up at me with a ridiculously wobbly grin on his face. “Wow,” he said.
“See,” I said, nibbling my way up Harry’s body and making him twitch with aftershocks every time my lips touched his skin. “I told you I know what men like.”
Harry laughed.
When I reached his lips we kissed hungrily for a moment, Harry swiping his tongue inside my mouth to taste himself on my tongue. “It was perfect,” he said.
I smiled smugly at him.
Harry pushed me off his lap and shook himself. “Your turn,” he said in a voice I had never heard before.
He undid my jeans and I wriggled eagerly out of them, sitting bare-arsed on his couch.
He sat beside me, running his thumb over the head of my cock as he sucked on my neck. And it felt fantastic. I don’t know if it was that it was a bloke, or that it was Harry.
But I tipped my head back on the cushions, letting him do what he liked.
Without stopping his ministrations to my neck or my cock, he swung one thigh over my legs and straddled me, his balls and cock squashed against mine as he stroked me slowly.
“Ron?” he whispered as his lips and tongue reached my ear. “There’s no point in giving you a hand-job or a blow-job, is there? You’ve done that before.”
“Once or twice,” I sighed, eyes closed as I concentrated on the feeling of his fingers stroking me.
“So,” he continued, now using both hands on me. “Have any of the Three Thousand,” I snorted, “let you take them up the arse?”
My eyes flew open. “Um, no,” I admitted. “I never actually asked any of them. Actually.”
He bit his lip. “Do you want to?”
I nodded firmly. “God, yes,” I whispered, thinking of how hot and tight he had been around my fingers.
And that it was Harry.
And that I would be inside him.
If I didn’t come there and then just from the suggestion.
He reached for a jar of something on the coffee table that he must have been using while he watched his film, and he stroked some onto my cock. I watched his hands running up and down my shaft and shook my head in amazement.
But then I was just stunned that I’d thought that that was amazing, because he knelt up in my lap, his cock pressed against my chest, one hand on my shoulder to balance himself, the other reaching back to prepare himself.
For my cock.
“Harry,” I breathed and his eyes came up to meet mine.
And, without breaking eye contact, he leant back, grasped my cock and slid it between his arse cheeks.
I reached behind him to cup his arse as he lowered himself onto me, inch by inch, until I was entirely sheathed inside him.
And I nearly came on the spot.
Which would have reflected badly on all the women who had raved about my stamina, wouldn’t it?
But it is one thing to be running through your practise schedule in your head while thrusting into a charming young lady and calling her sweetheart, because you can’t quite remember if her name was Kelly or Kerry.
It is another all together to have Harry-fucking-Potter’s arse flexing in your hands as he gently raises and lowers himself on your cock; those same incredible arse muscles squeezing you on each stroke until you think your brain is going to dribble out of your ears.
And it didn’t take long until I gripped him hard enough to leave bruises and I braced my feet against the floor and thrust up into him and climaxed harder than I could ever remember.
And he cupped my face with gentle hands and kissed me as I shuddered beneath him.
Eventually my vision cleared and I ran my hands up his back until I could wrap them around him and hold him against me.
“Well?” he said in a small voice.
I snorted. “That was wonderful,” I whispered into his hair. “Fucking incredible.”
He laughed against my neck and I shivered.
“It’s late,” he said, unwrapping one of my arms and peering at my watch.
It was gone midnight.
“D’you want to… what are you gonna…” he sighed.
I kissed his forehead.
“Can I stay?” I asked.
He sat back on my lap to look at me. “You never stay,” he said flatly.
I looked at his beloved and nervous face.
“I’ll stay with you,” I said.
He swallowed. “For ever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I echoed.
He smiled and leant forward.
“Merry Christmas,” I said as our lips met.
Title: Epiphany
Author:
shocfixPairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 4600
Rating: NC-17
Written for the
harry_and_ron Christmas Challenge.Betaed, as always, by my
rosina_alcona and magicofisis - I have missed them so much, because the last 149 things I wrote were posted unbetaed, and I don’t know if something is hot until rosina_alcona has found the ‘God, Ron is sexy” moment.Um, I’m sure a Christmas fic is supposed to be more childlike and snowy and innocent, but sod it.
Ron got really crude and rather slutty.
But at least the title is clever.
Epiphany
****
We should have done this years ago.
What had we been thinking?
Well, we’d been thinking about girls.
Dreaming about soft curves and bouncy breasts.
Wondering what they felt like.
How pointless was that?
Because none of the soft, curvy, bouncy breasts I’d touched had been Harry’s.
Well, no.
But the thing was, anything of Harry’s was better than anything of anybody else’s.
I’d been amazed at being allowed to touch Lavender’s breasts; over her jumper, of course.
They felt unlike anything I’d ever touched, and they filled my hands quite beautifully.
But that was it, really.
Lavender did seem to enjoy it, but it was only Lavender.
Hermione’s breasts were much smaller. She had pale pink nipples that tasted fantastic, and she made brilliant noises when I did it.
And I adored Hermione.
I loved making her feel good.
But the actual breasts didn’t do anything for me.
I’d never really given it much thought.
Obviously touching girls’ soft bits was important.
So touch them I did.
All sorts of pretty girls that were impressed by a lopsided smile and a professional Quidditch player’s uniform.
With breasts of all shapes and sizes.
The girls; not the Quidditch player.
They had other soft bits, of course.
Remarkably strange and just a little bit scary bits that my brothers had always recommended highly.
Bits that somehow sounded much more attractive when described breathlessly in an Irish brogue, late at night.
Bits that I dutifully touched.
And more.
The sex part was pretty good.
The wet warmth surrounding my cock was always worth it, and I closed my eyes and let my body enjoy itself.
But I’d wasted close to ten years putting my fingers and my tongue into places I wasn’t all that impressed by, and then wondering what I was supposed to do with them afterwards.
Wondering if it’d seem rude to wash my hands.
And clean my teeth.
Wondering why none of my brothers had ever mentioned this problem.
So what was different tonight?
Tonight I’d arrived at Harry’s flat unannounced.
Not an unusual occurrence, but my practise had finished quite late, even though it was Christmas Eve. I was still thrumming with adrenaline and I took a hot shower and Apparated over to see my best mate.
The most important person in my life, Harry.
Always had been, always would be.
Harry had a flat in Muggle London and I loved to watch television with him.
You wouldn’t believe some of the things that Muggles got up to.
Like the Muggles on the screen when I popped into the room behind Harry’s couch.
Harry had explained porn to his poor, confused friend.
Muggles made whole films of people pretending to have sex.
Pretending to enjoy it, too, which made me feel uncomfortable.
Which, in retrospect, was significant.
The men were moaning and thrusting and obviously thinking of something else while trying to keep an erection, while the girls who were writhing under them were probably running through their shopping lists in their heads.
They weren’t actually enjoying it any more than I did when I went down on a girl.
Which was too close for comfort.
So, tonight, when I arrived in Harry’s flat and saw what Harry was watching, well, I didn’t know what to think.
Was it the fact that Harry’s jeans were undone and he was running his thumb over the head of his cock as he watched television?
Was it the fact that my cock twitched significantly when I looked at the screen?
Or was it the fact that the screen showed two men having sex.
All this registered in the second before Harry reacted to the sound of my Apparition.
“Shit,” Harry yelped, covering himself with one hand and fumbling for the remote control with the other.
“Um,” I said, sitting on the arm of the couch and gawping down at my friend.
“I… it… um… it’s not how it looks,” Harry eventually stammered, pulling his shirt down over his lap.
I raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No!”
“It looked like you were wanking over gay porn,” I said.
Harry blinked helplessly. “Then possibly it is how it looks,” he whispered.
I snorted.
Harry winced and turned away and I slid down off the armrest. “Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
Harry shrugged one shoulder.
“So,” I said. “Anything you need to tell me, Harry?”
“No,” Harry said swiftly.
I picked up the remote control and turned the television back on.
We sat side by side and watched a slender man with messy black hair throwing back his head in ecstasy as another man wrapped his hand around his cock and took the head deep in his throat, sucking hungrily.
Harry whimpered. “Please Ron,” he begged.
Obviously he meant, ‘Please, Ron, don’t make me do this; this is humiliating; I’m sorry you had to find out like this; I never wanted you to know.”
But it went straight to my cock and I heard, “Please Ron, that could be us; you could make me feel like that.”
And my cock was harder than it had been in years.
The man on the television was stroking the other man’s cock firmly with one hand while cupping his balls with the other, one finger sliding lower.
I was impressed.
I knew how to do this.
I could stroke my cock; I could roll my balls between my fingers.
I knew how it felt.
Knew how good it would feel if I did it to Harry.
If I did it to Harry?
Did I want to do it to Harry?
The man on the television took his lover’s cock in his mouth again and closed his eyes in bliss.
Yes.
Yes, I really, really wanted to do this to Harry.
Was this it?
Was it really this simple?
I had no idea what girls enjoyed, no idea how it felt for them, no real interest in being the one to make them feel that way.
But I knew what it felt like when my cock thrust into a hot eager mouth, what it felt like to come deep in a throat that swallowed around me.
Knew how firmly to stroke a cock; knew that slipping a finger inside myself as I stroked would send sparks up my spine.
And I knew I could do this for Harry.
Harry made a distressed noise. “Ron, don’t make me watch more,” he said. “You’re being mean.”
“No,” I breathed, shaking myself and turning off the television. “I’m sorry.”
Harry buried his face in his hands. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this now, Ron,” he said thickly. “Can… could you just go.”
“No!” I said.
“Why are you being like this?” Harry asked.
I reached for Harry’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. He looked hurt and confused.
“No, no, no,” I said, slipping onto the floor and kneeling in front of Harry. “I… the film distracted me, I admit it – it’s not something I’ve ever thought about before – I never realised.”
“Well, I never said anything,” Harry muttered, looking anywhere but my eyes.
“Not you,” I whispered.
“What?”
“Not that I never realised it about you, Harry. I never realised it about me.”
Harry snorted. “Very funny,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re turned on by gay porn?” Harry scoffed.
“Yeah,” I said.
Harry snorted again.
“What?” I said. “I know if I’m turned on or not, don’t I?”
“Ron,” Harry said gently, looking down at where I was still holding his wrists tightly. “You have slept with more women than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, well,” I shrugged. “You have killed more Dark Lords than anyone I know, but that doesn’t mean you particularly enjoy it.”
Harry almost choked. “That is just insane!” he protested.
I shrugged again. “I admit my exploits would shock my mum if she ever found out,” I said and Harry laughed shakily. “But there was always something missing.”
“Like what?” Harry croaked.
I let go of one of his wrists, slid my hand under his shirt and wrapped my fingers around his cock. “Like this,” I whispered.
Harry yelped and pushed my hand away. “You… you can’t just… Ron, no…” He got up and tucked himself back in his trousers. “No,” he said. “You cannot do this, it’s not fair.”
This left me kneeling at his feet, my face very much at crotch level.
“And get up,” Harry snapped.
I leapt to my feet and tried to take his hand, but Harry wrenched it away and went to stand by the fireplace, his hands plunged into his pockets and a muscle in his cheek twitching.
“I don’t know if you’re just feeling lonely on Christmas Eve or something, but weren’t there any groupies hanging round after practise?” he said.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But I’d already fucked them all.”
Harry half-laughed. “Christ, Ron,” he said. “You’re unbelievable.”
I shrugged. “Look, I don’t fuck anyone who doesn’t want it,” I said.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Then what just happened, here?” he asked quietly. “You’d already fucked everyone else you saw today?”
“No,” I complained. “It wasn’t supposed to sound like that. It’s just that you asked about the groupies!”
“I didn’t ask you to make a pass at me,” Harry said. “Really, all you needed to do was never mention what you’d caught me watching. We can still stay friends.”
I glared at him. “Of course we’re still friends,” I snapped. “Nothing’d change that.”
“Then what just happened?”
I ran my hands through my hair. “I didn’t mean that about the groupies,” I said. “I had a good practice and I felt great and I thought I’d come here and drag you out for a drink; and, yeah, there were some girls at the practise ground, and I guess I have slept with them all – but the Cannons don’t have all that many groupies.”
Harry snorted.
I huffed. “But I didn’t come here because I’d slept with them all – I came here to see you. I just didn’t expect you to be watching gay porn.”
“Yeah, well.”
“And I know for a fact that you’ve slept with women,” I pointed out.
“Not as many as you have,” Harry countered. “But, uh, it doesn’t really do it for me, no,” he admitted, looking anywhere but at me.
“You never said,” I murmured.
Harry shrugged. “Well, all I need is that extra publicity – the Prophet would love it.”
“Not even to me, Harry.”
“I didn’t want to freak you out; you’re such a ladies’ man,” he snorted.
“But I’m not,” I protested.
Harry gave me a very pointed look. “How many women have you slept with this week?” he asked.
“Depends what you mean ‘slept with’,” I stalled. “It’s Christmas, and there’ve been parties all week, and sometimes you just slip into the locker room or something for a blow-job.”
Harry blinked at me. “Those count,” he decided.
“Um,” I looked at the ceiling, frowning slightly. “Six,” I admitted.
“In a week?” Harry asked. “Christ.”
“There were four parties,” I said, defensively. “And that’s what happens at parties. It’s not a typical week.”
“And how many men have you slept with this week?” Harry asked.
“None,” I said. “But I’d never thought about it before I saw you tonight.”
“That’s not how it works,” Harry protested.
“So, you’ve thought about it before?” I asked.
Harry snorted. “Yes, Ron,” he said. “I’ve always thought about it.”
“And you’ve… done stuff about it?”
“Yes, I’ve had sex with men,” Harry said clearly. “Muggles. I wouldn’t do it in the Wizarding World.”
“So, no one knows?”
“Ginny knows,” Harry said.
“Ginny?” I demanded. “Why d’you tell Ginny?”
“I didn’t so much tell her as let it slip,” Harry muttered.
“Let what slip?” I asked.
“Forget it,” Harry said.
“No, really, I’m interested.”
Harry huffed at him. “Fine,” Harry muttered. “I called out the wrong name, OK?”
“Oh,” I said. “While you were…” I gestured at Harry’s crotch.
Harry frowned. “Yes, while we were.”
“Yikes,” I said. “And she was OK with this?”
“No, of course she wasn’t OK – she was livid,” Harry said. “But we talked about it, and she’s been great. It was a long time ago, now. It’s been good to have someone I can talk to about stuff.”
“You can talk to me,” I said.
“Hardly,” Harry scoffed.
“Why not?”
“Because it was your name I cried, OK?” Harry said desperately.
He flushed scarlet and tried to leave the room, but I followed him in two long-legged strides and caught his arm.
“Me?” I whispered.
Harry looked down at the long fingers wrapped around his wrist and his eyes closed with pain.
“Of course, you,” he whispered. “It’s always been you; why d’you think I got confused when I was with Ginny?”
I whistled.
“But that’s brilliant,” I said.
Harry pulled his arm away and glared at him. “Not this again,” he begged. “I can’t.”
“But you want it, too,” I whined.
Harry’s fingers ran over his wrist, where he could still feel my hand touching him.
“You don’t want me, Ron,” he said quietly, sitting back down on the couch and looking very small and lost.
“Please, let me try,” I said.
“What?” Harry snorted. “Is this supposed to be my Christmas present?”
“No,” I protested. “Your Christmas present is Cannons tickets.”
“Cheap bastard,” Harry muttered.
I went and knelt in front of him. “At least let me explain,” I said.
Harry shrugged.
“I know I may give the impression that I fancy women,” I said. “But it’s just that I’m supposed to, you know?”
“You are supposed to fuck six women a week?” Harry scoffed. “That’s more than three hundred a year.”
“Blimey, is it?” I shook my head slowly. “That’s scary. But I meant that I have all these brothers telling me about their birds, telling me about breasts and other bits. And at school, well, we’d listen to Seamus talking about girls. There was so much pressure to do it.”
“Well, yeah,” Harry interrupted. “What d’you think that was like for me? Hearing all that and wanting you.”
I bit my lip. “Oh,” I said. “Well, yeah. So we did what we were expected to, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And it’s not that good, is it?”
Harry sighed and rolled his eyes ostentatiously. “That is why I have done it exactly three times,” he pointed out. “I admitted to myself that it just wasn’t for me. You’ve done it, what, three thousand times.”
“I said that this wasn’t a normal week!” I protested.
Harry snorted.
I ploughed on. “So I did it, and apparently I am good at it, and there aren’t that many things that I get complimented on, really, are there?”
“You do it for the feedback?” Harry asked.
“Sort of,” I said. “I mean, it’s what we’re supposed to enjoy doing, and the girl seems to enjoy it, even when I’m bored.”
“Bored? That’s a lovely compliment.”
“Well, breasts are OK, but some girls could happily have you touch their breasts all night, and then my mind wanders. And,” I pulled a face, “other bits are just weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah, and I never know what to do afterwards,” I said earnestly. “I’m sure they’d think I was rude if I washed my hands.”
Harry sniggered.
“And I don’t like the taste and I’m always dying to clean my teeth.”
Harry choked. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he said faintly.
“And really I like blow-jobs best. Don’t you think that that is significant?” I asked eagerly.
Harry looked down at my smiling face and sighed. “Why is that significant, Ron?” he asked.
“Because that is the only bit that needn’t be a girl!”
“Not good enough,” Harry said sternly.
I made a dismissive noise. “Look, Harry,” I said. “When I got here tonight, I saw the two hottest things I have ever seen – two men having sex on your television, and you touching yourself.”
Harry frowned at me.
“And I just thought, ‘Oh my God, I can do that.’ Because it just cuts out the middlewoman, doesn’t it?” I beamed up at my friend, who snorted again.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.
“It means I know what feels good to a man,” I explained. “I know how to make you feel good.”
“Oh, God,” Harry murmured. “But it never occurred to you before.”
I shrugged. “No, it just didn’t,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, now.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cos it’ll kill me if we do this and you hate it.”
I leant forwards, with a hand on each of Harry’s thighs, thumbs rubbing in circles as I pushed them apart and moved closer. “So sure,” I whispered.
“But you can’t go from straight to actually sleeping with a bloke just like that,” Harry protested, leaning back against the cushions to keep some distance from the smiling mouth bearing down on him.
“No, I couldn’t just go and pick up some random man,” I admitted, pressing him down onto the couch. “But I can go from straight to you.”
And I kissed him.
And Harry whimpered and his hands came up to grab a handful of my shirt and hold me in place.
Our lips just brushed softly against each other at first, and Harry kept his eyes wide open; then I deepened the kiss and Harry sighed into my mouth as he tried to relax.
After a little while, I leant back to look at him. “Stop frowning, Harry,” I said. “This is supposed to be fun.”
“Is it OK?” Harry asked.
“It’s kissing, I know I like kissing,” I said. “Let’s try something else.”
And I pulled Harry’s hands free from my shirt and undid the row of buttons, before reaching for Harry’s and doing the same.
I opened his shirt and ran my hands over Harry’s chest.
Harry’s breath hitched as his eyes followed their path. My fingers flexed as they skimmed his nipples and Harry twitched.
“Y’know what is annoying about breasts?” I asked, bending down to take a nipple in my mouth and sucking on it until Harry groaned.
“What?” Harry managed, his hands settling in my hair and entangling themselves.
“They don’t do anything,” I said, licking my way across to Harry’s other nipple, and feeling the muscles tense.
Harry snorted. “Like, card tricks?” he hazarded.
“No, prat,” I laughed, pulling back to watch my fingers playing with Harry’s chest. “I mean they are just dead weight in your hand. But I can feel your chest muscles moving under my mouth, that’s excellent.”
Harry laughed. “Um, good,” he said, suddenly arching against me as I pinched both nipples.
“And I’m not usually allowed to pinch that hard,” I smirked as Harry twisted under me. “And girls never realise I want them to pinch that hard.”
“Never?” Harry gasped. “Never in three thousand women?”
“It is not three thousand,” I said sternly, pinching harder. “And yes, just once; Hermione.”
Harry snorted. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “She read about it in a book.”
“Yup,” I laughed.
Harry smiled and relaxed a little bit, watching me lying in his lap and petting him with every sign of enjoyment.
Then I wriggled backwards, over the bulge that had been poking me in the stomach.
Harry tensed again but I lowered my head and kissed a trail down his chest, distracting him so effectively that he didn’t realise I had undone his trousers until my mouth brushed over the erection straining inside his boxers.
“How did you do that?” Harry gasped.
I looked up, slipping one hand inside Harry’s jeans and stroking him “Do what?” I said.
“I… I didn’t notice you unzipping me,” Harry stuttered.
“Well, I have had a lot of practise in undressing people,” I admitted, tugging at Harry’s jeans and boxers until he lifted his hips and let them slide down his legs and be cast aside.
This left me perilously close to his cock and Harry eyed me nervously.
I snorted at him. “Harry, why are you the one who’s nervous, here? You’ve done this before.”
“Because this means the world to me, and I don’t want to just be an experiment to you,” Harry said pitifully.
“You are not an experiment; you’re the person I care most about in the whole world, right?” I demanded.
“Right,” Harry muttered. “But not like this.”
“So like this,” I assured him, running the heel of my hand up and down his cock till he was almost hypnotised.
“But, Ron,” Harry complained. “You never have relationships; you don’t have a monogamous bone in your body.”
I grinned evilly.
“I know just what to do about that,” I smirked. “Let’s see what happens if we put this monogamous boner in my body.” And I parted my lips and took Harry in my mouth.
Harry half laughed, half groaned as the wet heat engulfed his cock.
It wasn’t a perfect blow-job; I knew what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“I don’t give girls enough credit,” I said, pausing for a breather. “There are many girls out there I should owl and thank.”
Harry snorted and thrust his hips up at me.
“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, and Harry rolled his eyes – first in amusement and then in apparent ecstasy as I took him in my mouth again.
Harry’s scent filled my nostrils and Harry tasted fantastic.
“Though taste-wise, there is no contest,” I said, letting Harry slip out of my mouth again, and idly wanking him as I spoke. “If I taste this good, then all the girls I’ve gone down on owe me an owl, too.”
Harry whimpered and I laughed.
Once I had got the hang of moving my tongue and lips and hand in a rhythm that had Harry moaning and gasping beneath me, I sucked wetly on two fingers and let them slip between Harry’s arse cheeks.
I hoped that this was what Harry wanted, and, judging by the way Harry slid lower in the couch, letting his arse hang over the edge and giving me easier access, I seemed to be on the right track.
Yes, judging by the way Harry groaned as my finger slipped inside him, by the way he reached down to hold my head in place, by the way he thrust down onto my hand and up into my mouth until he gripped one tightly and jerked inside the other.
I sucked hard as Harry throbbed in my mouth.
I swallowed each pulse, letting my throat close around the head of his cock.
When Harry stopped twitching, I pulled my fingers out of him and lifted my head, sucking him clean as his cock slipped out of my mouth.
Harry lay beneath me, boneless and debauched and spent, and I had never seen anything so beautiful.
And I had done it.
All I’d ever wanted was to make Harry happy, and no, I hadn’t meant it like this, but God, I should have.
Because Harry was dragging sleepy eyes open and gazing up at me with a ridiculously wobbly grin on his face. “Wow,” he said.
“See,” I said, nibbling my way up Harry’s body and making him twitch with aftershocks every time my lips touched his skin. “I told you I know what men like.”
Harry laughed.
When I reached his lips we kissed hungrily for a moment, Harry swiping his tongue inside my mouth to taste himself on my tongue. “It was perfect,” he said.
I smiled smugly at him.
Harry pushed me off his lap and shook himself. “Your turn,” he said in a voice I had never heard before.
He undid my jeans and I wriggled eagerly out of them, sitting bare-arsed on his couch.
He sat beside me, running his thumb over the head of my cock as he sucked on my neck. And it felt fantastic. I don’t know if it was that it was a bloke, or that it was Harry.
But I tipped my head back on the cushions, letting him do what he liked.
Without stopping his ministrations to my neck or my cock, he swung one thigh over my legs and straddled me, his balls and cock squashed against mine as he stroked me slowly.
“Ron?” he whispered as his lips and tongue reached my ear. “There’s no point in giving you a hand-job or a blow-job, is there? You’ve done that before.”
“Once or twice,” I sighed, eyes closed as I concentrated on the feeling of his fingers stroking me.
“So,” he continued, now using both hands on me. “Have any of the Three Thousand,” I snorted, “let you take them up the arse?”
My eyes flew open. “Um, no,” I admitted. “I never actually asked any of them. Actually.”
He bit his lip. “Do you want to?”
I nodded firmly. “God, yes,” I whispered, thinking of how hot and tight he had been around my fingers.
And that it was Harry.
And that I would be inside him.
If I didn’t come there and then just from the suggestion.
He reached for a jar of something on the coffee table that he must have been using while he watched his film, and he stroked some onto my cock. I watched his hands running up and down my shaft and shook my head in amazement.
But then I was just stunned that I’d thought that that was amazing, because he knelt up in my lap, his cock pressed against my chest, one hand on my shoulder to balance himself, the other reaching back to prepare himself.
For my cock.
“Harry,” I breathed and his eyes came up to meet mine.
And, without breaking eye contact, he leant back, grasped my cock and slid it between his arse cheeks.
I reached behind him to cup his arse as he lowered himself onto me, inch by inch, until I was entirely sheathed inside him.
And I nearly came on the spot.
Which would have reflected badly on all the women who had raved about my stamina, wouldn’t it?
But it is one thing to be running through your practise schedule in your head while thrusting into a charming young lady and calling her sweetheart, because you can’t quite remember if her name was Kelly or Kerry.
It is another all together to have Harry-fucking-Potter’s arse flexing in your hands as he gently raises and lowers himself on your cock; those same incredible arse muscles squeezing you on each stroke until you think your brain is going to dribble out of your ears.
And it didn’t take long until I gripped him hard enough to leave bruises and I braced my feet against the floor and thrust up into him and climaxed harder than I could ever remember.
And he cupped my face with gentle hands and kissed me as I shuddered beneath him.
Eventually my vision cleared and I ran my hands up his back until I could wrap them around him and hold him against me.
“Well?” he said in a small voice.
I snorted. “That was wonderful,” I whispered into his hair. “Fucking incredible.”
He laughed against my neck and I shivered.
“It’s late,” he said, unwrapping one of my arms and peering at my watch.
It was gone midnight.
“D’you want to… what are you gonna…” he sighed.
I kissed his forehead.
“Can I stay?” I asked.
He sat back on my lap to look at me. “You never stay,” he said flatly.
I looked at his beloved and nervous face.
“I’ll stay with you,” I said.
He swallowed. “For ever?” he asked.
“Forever,” I echoed.
He smiled and leant forward.
“Merry Christmas,” I said as our lips met.