shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-05-22 01:00:00 |
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Men Have Needs - H/R - NC-17
Title: Men Have Needs
Author:shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 3421
Rating: NC-17
Men Have Needs
****
At first, it didn’t even occur to me that it hadn’t occurred to me. Ginny’s mum needed her and there were all the funerals and Ron and I started work and we’d have all the time in the world, when we eventually got down to it.
Work was an exhausting whirlwind of fast track training and on the job experience. Ron wasn’t impressed at the amount of studying involved and Hermione rolled her eyes audibly at he thought that he expected to arrest the bad guys with no knowledge of the laws they’d been breaking. She helped him study and she was fascinated by the law books, but Ron very much preferred the physical combat training.
I drank it all in and collapsed into my bed at night, fulfilled and without thought of Ginny.
I didn’t realise there was a problem until she sat me down for a talk just before she and Hermione returned to school.
“Harry,” she said. “I know you’re being very patient, but I need to know where I stand.”
“Patient?” I echoed. “Everyone’s been so busy, this summer, and you…”
“I know you’re a man,” she interrupted, “and you have… needs.”
I blinked at her.
“And you’ll have to wait another year, while I’m at school,” she continued. “And it’s not the same as last year, when you were… alone.”
“No Veelas, I promised,” I said.
She shook her head. “I know that,” she said. “But you were alone in that tent for months and I wouldn’t expect you not to act on your… needs.”
I remembered pining over her dot on the map, although it was surprisingly innocent, and I started to wonder why I hadn’t taken advantage of having the dot around in the flesh, as it were.
But I wasn’t about to discuss my wanking habits with her, either way.
“I was fine being… alone,” I said, nodding significantly at my lap.
“Yes, but you were alone together,” she said, “and…”
“Me and Hermione?” I squeaked. “We’d never…”
“Of course not,” she gasped. “Hermione would never…” She trailed off and frowned at me. “Harry,” she said slowly. “Muggles… I mean, she’s a witch, obviously, but she… Harry, Muggle women do… save themselves, don’t they?”
“What?” I asked, more than a little baffled.
“They do… save themselves for marriage?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She gaped at me.
“Mum would never have let Ron and Hermione go with you, unmarried, if she’d known that,” she breathed.
“Unmarried?” I squeaked.
“She trusted Hermione not to… do anything,” Ginny said earnestly. “Oh, dear.”
“They didn’t… do anything,” I said.
“But you said…”
“I said she could have done,” I said, trying not to think about it. “If she’d wanted. Which I assume she did, but it wasn’t practical, was it? In a tent. So they didn’t. And we wouldn’t. Me and Hermione? How could you think that… you didn’t think that, did you?”
“No!” she protested.
“Then…?”
“You and Ron,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Me and… Ron?” I gasped, using up what I was pretty sure was the last lungful of oxygen I’d ever breathe in.
“Yes,” she said and I shook myself and ignored the little voice at the back of my head that tapped me on the shoulder, cleared its throat and sounded like Dobby.
“You thought that me and Ron?” I repeated. “Were… taking care of each other?”
“Of course,” she said patiently. “Like you always have.”
“Well, yes, like we always have,” I said, “but not like that.”
“But, Harry, everyone expected…”
“Everyone?” I said weakly.
“Harry,” she said. “You’re men, and you have needs. And you would never expect a woman… before marriage, so everyone would expect you to… help each other out.”
I sat and blinked at her for quite some time and she looked more and more concerned.
“Ginny,” I said finally. “When you say ‘everyone’ knows this, do you mean Ron knows this?”
“Of course.”
“But he never… we never…” I tried some more blinking.
Her eyes opened wide. “Maybe Hermione does things,” she whispered.
“No,” I said. “I mean, she will do things, all sorts of things I don’t want to think about, when they’re together, together. I think she’s waiting until she’s left school; for when they’re living together.”
“For when they’re married,” Ginny insisted.
“They’re too young to get married,” I insisted. “They’re…” A thought struck me. “Is this why wizards get married straight out of school? Because otherwise all they have is a fumble with their best mate?”
“If you want to put it so crudely,” she said primly.
“Christ,” I said. I wondered if she expected to marry me next summer. I wondered if Ron expected to marry Hermione next summer. I wondered why Ron had never offered me a helping hand.
“What do Muggles do?” she asked tentatively.
“They sleep with their girlfriends and get married at about thirty,” I said, feeling way out of my depth.
“This sort of thing should be covered in Muggle Studies,” she said seriously.
“And vice versa,” I said. “No wonder Seamus’s poor dad didn’t have time to find out he was marrying a witch – he was too busy being desperate to shag her!”
“Harry!” she chided.
We looked at each other.
“So,” she said slowly. “You didn’t realise that I’m saving myself until we’re... I’m married.”
“No,” I said bluntly. “I thought it was gonna happen on my birthday, last year, if Ron hadn’t interrupted.”
“With my entire family in the house?” she asked faintly. “And my bedroom door unlocked?”
I shrugged.
“So, if you’re not being patient with me,” she continued, “and you’re not getting your… with Ron. Why haven’t you… made your move? Why aren’t we back together?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Haven’t thought about why, or haven’t thought about getting back together?” she asked.
“Both?” I said. “Look, it’s been one hell of a year, and I just assumed we’d… eventually we’d… I dunno, Ginny.”
“I’ve watched you follow Ron like a shadow all summer,” she said. “But if there was nothing… you didn’t need… then why?”
“Because he’s… we’re…” Actually, I had no idea why. “You didn’t see him, when he came back to us… and, without him there, I just…”
I really had no idea.
“You need to talk to him,” Ginny said firmly.
“About why we never…?” I asked weakly.
“It’s just not normal,” she said.
So.
How do you ask your best mate why he’s never accessed your tackle? I mean, no one means more to me that Ron does, I can’t imagine us being any closer, but it never occurred to him to help me get my rocks off? Apparently he was brought up to think I was normal to say ‘here, let me give you a hand with that, mate.’ Though I have problems with the mental image of Mrs Weasley saying ‘I’ll put a camp bed in your room, for Harry, so you can help him wank.’
But he never laid a hand on me.
Obviously we weren’t as close as I though we were. Well, he’s the only friend I ever had, and I can’t manage without him, and when he came back to me… to us… I wanted to hold on to him and never let go, but, well, what do I know?
Obviously, the way to ask him involved alcohol.
And luckily we know Seamus.
Seamus dragged the five of us out to The Leaky Cauldron in late October, muttering Celtically under his breath about us overdoing things.
“You don’t have to throw yourselves into work,” he said, drawing on the head of his Guinness with a fingertip. “Pointless, when they’re not even here to see how much you miss them.”
“Them, who?” I asked.
“The girls,” Dean said.
“Girls?” Neville asked, smiling at Hannah, who had started working behind the bar.
“Seamus thinks that me, Harry and Ron are working too hard and pining for Luna, Ginny and Hermione,” Dean explained.
“The five of us didn’t used to need work or women,” Seamus said firmly. “What happened to the Five Musketeers?”
I spotted my opening.
“Be a man, Shay,” I said. “Dean’s got his girl, now, but I’m sure she’s pleased he… learnt his craft from you.”
I carefully didn’t look at Ron, focussing instead on Dean’s confused face. At least I’d know more than poor old Muggleborn Dean.
If Ginny hadn’t been winding me up, that is, because there was a ringing silence, before Dean said, “What?” and I was wracking my brains for a reasonable explanation when Neville said, “You know, I always wondered if they were,” and Seamus said, “We never did – me cousin Fergus said Muggles are different, so I never offered.”
“Different how?” Neville asked.
Dean looked down at his body. “What the fuck are you talking about, Seamus?” he asked.
“They don’t do it,” Seamus explained to Neville.
“They do,” Neville said. “I’ve heard him.”
Ron sniggered and I chanced half a look at him. His ears were pink, but he was smiling at Dean’s bewilderment.
“Heard me what?” Dean asked plaintively.
“Wanking,” Seamus said.
Dean blinked rapidly and I felt a bit sorry for doing this to him.
“So,” he said finally. “We’re discussing whether or not I wank?”
“’Course not,” Neville said. “We’re discussing whether or not Seamus ever gave you a helping hand.”
“Why… would he do that?” Dean asked.
“’Cos you’re mates,” Neville said.
“We never…” Dean frowned. “We never did, Nev.”
“Because Muggles don’t,” Seamus said patiently. “I was being sensitive. Help me out here, Harry!”
“Well, I can’t speak for all Muggles,” I said. “But it’s not expected, no.”
“Expected?” Dean spluttered.
“Men have needs,” Neville explained earnestly.
“So do women,” Dean protested.
Neville blushed.
“Not before they’re married,” he said.
Dean snorted.
“Harry?” he pleaded.
“Women have needs, Neville,” I said. “Muggle women don’t save themselves for marriage.”
“What?” Ron squeaked.
“I feel I’ve strayed into a parallel universe,” Dean muttered. “Luna hasn’t saved herself.”
“Luna’s always different,” I said.
“But how was this never mentioned, some time in the past seven years?” Dean said.
“What was I s’posed to say?” Seamus asked. “‘Fancy a hand job, even if you’re Muggleborn?’ I’ve had to Do It Yourself myself, too.”
“You should have said, Seamus,” Neville said. “I’d have been only too happy to.”
“Ah, so all three of us have been missing out,” Seamus said.
“Well, no,” Neville admitted. “Once Michael Corner got so caught up with Ginny, I spent quite a lot of time with Anthony Goldstein.”
“Goldstein?” Seamus asked. “I’d have thought he’d have… well, he’s mates with Terry Boot, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Neville said. “But Terry’s gay.”
“OK, wait,” Dean said. “I’m trying to keep track, here. A bloke is expected to help his best mate wank until he settles down, but Seamus never offered, due to my Muggleborn sensitivities?”
“Yup,” Seamus said.
“Neville has been wanking with Goldstein of Ravenclaw, because his best mate is gay?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be fair to lead Terry on,” Neville explained. “It’s not a queer thing. And Terry always liked… someone else, anyway.”
“And I assume you and Ron always helped each other out,” Dean said, turning to me.
“No!” Ron yelped.
Neville and Seamus looked at him, curiously.
“No, we never… I…” he looked flustered.
“Well, I guess you thought I was brought up by Muggles, yeah?” I said helpfully.
“Well, yeah,” Ron said, looking transparently grateful. “It’s… different for Muggles.”
“But Harry knows all about it,” Neville said.
“I only found out recently,” I said hurriedly.
“Well, what a waste,” Seamus said, necking the last of his pint. “Who wants another drink?”
Dean huffed and watched him weave his way between the tables to the bar.
“You’re OK with this, are you, Harry?” he asked me.
I shrugged.
“I don’t think we’ll ever find out all the things we missed, growing up with Muggles,” I said. “And I’ve seen weirder things in the last seven years.”
Dean laughed, Seamus brought the drinks and we spoke of other things.
When Ron and I got home to Grimmauld Place we were pleasantly drunk and I knew it was the perfect time to ask him.
He sprawled on the couch and rolled his shoulders and blinked up at me and I cleared my throat.
“You, um, you didn’t know that Muggle blokes don’t get each other off, did you?” I asked.
“But you said they don’t,” he protested.
I waved that away and sat down beside him.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
“For all Dad’s told us about Muggles, somehow that never came up.”
“But you never… offered,” I said.
He shrugged helplessly.
“’Cos I… I never knew about all this… and then I did… and you never…” I babbled. “I thought it was a… friendship thing, and that you didn’t care… but if Neville and Anthony…”
“Harry, no.” he looked distraught. “You thought I didn’t care?”
I shrugged.
“That’s not…” He huffed and ran his hands through his hair. “That’s not the reason.”
“There’s a reason?”
“Please don’t do this,” he said. “I’ve dreaded this conversation.”
“You expected us to have this conversation?”
“Something like it,” he said. “Eventually.”
I looked hopeful and he groaned.
“Harry,” he said heavily. “It is absolutely the opposite reason, OK?”
“Opposite?”
“Opposite to not caring, and can we drop this, please?”
“But…”
“I didn’t offer,” he said pitifully, “because that would have been leading myself on.”
I blinked.
“Like Terry,” Ron said, making a strange hand gesture that made me wonder which one of us knew nothing about gay sex.
“So, you’re…” I nodded significantly.
“Like Terry,” Ron said mournfully.
“And have you and Terry ever…?”
“No,” Ron said. “I don’t fancy Terry.”
“But Neville and Anthony…”
“…are mates,” Ron interrupted, “helping each other out, until they are allowed to… put it somewhere… self lubricating. I’m not gonna sleep with Terry just because he’s gay, when he’s not my type.”
“Then, what is your type?” I asked.
He glared at me.
“Completely clueless savers of mankind,” he said bluntly.
“Come across many of those?” I asked weakly, my heart racing.
“I should be so lucky,” he muttered, drooping sadly on the couch.
I watched his ears flush and prayed I wasn’t about to mess up something rather important.
“Sometimes I thought you knew,” he said. “And were being… kind… not to mention it… and then, with the… the locket… when it said you are nothing to him, you must have known… and you hugged me… but you didn’t want me and…”
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Completely clueless,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why’re you sorry?” he asked. “Not knowing something isn’t nearly as bad as being… something you don’t know.”
I sighed and sat back beside him, companionably shoulder to shoulder.
“You should have said something,” I said.
He huffed. “Harry,” he said. “You never offered to wank with me, which sometimes I thought meant you knew about me, which meant you didn’t feel the same way.”
“I thought you were in love with Hermione,” I said.
“Completely clueless,” he muttered again.
“Ginny thought we were wanking together,” I said. “Neville thought we were wanking together. I think we missed an opportunity, here.”
I tried to look flirtatious.
“But you just want someone to wank with,” he said pitifully. “You don’t actually want it to be me”
“No I don’t,” I protested. “I didn’t know it was an option until Ginny mentioned it, and I have been tying myself in knots, wondering why you never wanted to try, and now it turns out you really, really wanted to, and it’s you and it’s me, and how could I not want to?”
“Because you’re straight,” he said.
“Possibly,” I admitted. “’Though we won’t know until we try, will we?” He snorted. “Ron, I spent most of last year watching Ginny’s dot on the Map, but I never wanked over it.”
He pulled a revolted face.
“I’m not just offended that we never wanked together,” I said. “I’m obsessed.”
“Really?” he said. “We’re not just leading me on?”
“I’d never do that,” I said solemnly.
He smiled a wobbly smile and moved closer.
“So,” I said, my eyes flicking down to his lap. “How d’we do this?”
“Why don’t we do this the traditional way, until we find out if you really want more?” he suggested.
“So... we wank and watch each other?” I asked, blinking as he unzipped and slid his jeans down his endless legs.
“No,” he said. “How queer’s that? Being turned on by watching another bloke bashing the bishop? We do each other.”
“See?” I said, scrambling out of my own jeans and boxers and kicking them away. “I have no idea what I’m doing, here.”
When we were naked, I took a deep breath and looked down at… him. It arched out of dark red pubes and looked back at me and I had no idea what I was doing but my heart was racing and my mouth was inexplicably watering.
“I’ll do you first, shall I?” Ron asked, reaching out and wrapping his long fingers round my stirring cock. “That way you’ll have nothing queerer than usual to look back on, if you don’t go for it. You can still look Neville in the face, yeah?”
I recognised this generous gesture on his part for what it was and I wondered what I’d done to deserve him as I sprawled on the couch and spread my legs for him. He knelt between them, careful not to touch me anywhere but my cock and I smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Trying to look detached and businesslike, he started stroking me, but I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were wide and vulnerable.
And I was right.
I relaxed and let myself feel, and it didn’t feel like I was being lazy and letting a mate get me off. It felt like my Ron, my stupid, beautiful, vulnerable, crude, devoted boy was breaking his heart to give me pleasure.
“More,” I moaned.
“Harry?” he whispered.
“More than this,” I begged. “Please, Ron. Together.”
His face lit up and he surged over me, one thigh hooked over mine, one hand braced on the back of the couch, taking his weight as he thrust against me, his mouth covering mine and his amazingly hard cock sliding against mine on every stroke.
I automatically opened up to him, my kisses desperate, my thighs spread wider, my hands cupping his arse and pulling him closer.
He moaned into my mouth, tangling his free hand in my hair as he rutted and writhed, letting out God knows how many years of pent up sexual tension.
He was certainly ahead of me, because his breath was harsh and his rhythm was breaking down and he threw his head back and I watched the joy on his face as he came. The tension left his body abruptly and he sagged, his come spurting and sliding between us, his shaking arms barely holding him up.
I started moving under him, partly so he didn’t start muttering about taking advantage of me, and partly because I was covered in a naked, trembling, sweaty, spunky Ron Weasley and had never been more turned on in my life.
I squeezed his arse, letting my fingertips slip between his cheeks as I thrust upwards, my cock sliding through his come and rubbing against the crisp hair on his belly.
“Good boy,” he murmured, clearly thrilled. “Come for me, Harry.”
I looked up into his happy face and cried out as my climax flashed through me and Ron’s mouth descended on mine and he swallowed my cry.
He moved to climb off me, but I turned to lay full length on the couch and pulled him down beside me. He huffed and arranged himself, one leg tucked between mine, one hand propping his head up, one doodling in our combined come on my stomach.
“So,” he said carefully. “More than just…”
“So much more,” I said swiftly.
“And we’re…”
“Gonna try everything,” I said.
Ron grinned manically and I slid a hand over his hip and round to pet his captivating arse.
“I should have known,” he said smugly.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“How could you be straight?” he said. “When you’re famous for your Pat-Ron-arse?”
Title: Men Have Needs
Author:
shocolatePairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 3421
Rating: NC-17
Men Have Needs
****
At first, it didn’t even occur to me that it hadn’t occurred to me. Ginny’s mum needed her and there were all the funerals and Ron and I started work and we’d have all the time in the world, when we eventually got down to it.
Work was an exhausting whirlwind of fast track training and on the job experience. Ron wasn’t impressed at the amount of studying involved and Hermione rolled her eyes audibly at he thought that he expected to arrest the bad guys with no knowledge of the laws they’d been breaking. She helped him study and she was fascinated by the law books, but Ron very much preferred the physical combat training.
I drank it all in and collapsed into my bed at night, fulfilled and without thought of Ginny.
I didn’t realise there was a problem until she sat me down for a talk just before she and Hermione returned to school.
“Harry,” she said. “I know you’re being very patient, but I need to know where I stand.”
“Patient?” I echoed. “Everyone’s been so busy, this summer, and you…”
“I know you’re a man,” she interrupted, “and you have… needs.”
I blinked at her.
“And you’ll have to wait another year, while I’m at school,” she continued. “And it’s not the same as last year, when you were… alone.”
“No Veelas, I promised,” I said.
She shook her head. “I know that,” she said. “But you were alone in that tent for months and I wouldn’t expect you not to act on your… needs.”
I remembered pining over her dot on the map, although it was surprisingly innocent, and I started to wonder why I hadn’t taken advantage of having the dot around in the flesh, as it were.
But I wasn’t about to discuss my wanking habits with her, either way.
“I was fine being… alone,” I said, nodding significantly at my lap.
“Yes, but you were alone together,” she said, “and…”
“Me and Hermione?” I squeaked. “We’d never…”
“Of course not,” she gasped. “Hermione would never…” She trailed off and frowned at me. “Harry,” she said slowly. “Muggles… I mean, she’s a witch, obviously, but she… Harry, Muggle women do… save themselves, don’t they?”
“What?” I asked, more than a little baffled.
“They do… save themselves for marriage?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She gaped at me.
“Mum would never have let Ron and Hermione go with you, unmarried, if she’d known that,” she breathed.
“Unmarried?” I squeaked.
“She trusted Hermione not to… do anything,” Ginny said earnestly. “Oh, dear.”
“They didn’t… do anything,” I said.
“But you said…”
“I said she could have done,” I said, trying not to think about it. “If she’d wanted. Which I assume she did, but it wasn’t practical, was it? In a tent. So they didn’t. And we wouldn’t. Me and Hermione? How could you think that… you didn’t think that, did you?”
“No!” she protested.
“Then…?”
“You and Ron,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Me and… Ron?” I gasped, using up what I was pretty sure was the last lungful of oxygen I’d ever breathe in.
“Yes,” she said and I shook myself and ignored the little voice at the back of my head that tapped me on the shoulder, cleared its throat and sounded like Dobby.
“You thought that me and Ron?” I repeated. “Were… taking care of each other?”
“Of course,” she said patiently. “Like you always have.”
“Well, yes, like we always have,” I said, “but not like that.”
“But, Harry, everyone expected…”
“Everyone?” I said weakly.
“Harry,” she said. “You’re men, and you have needs. And you would never expect a woman… before marriage, so everyone would expect you to… help each other out.”
I sat and blinked at her for quite some time and she looked more and more concerned.
“Ginny,” I said finally. “When you say ‘everyone’ knows this, do you mean Ron knows this?”
“Of course.”
“But he never… we never…” I tried some more blinking.
Her eyes opened wide. “Maybe Hermione does things,” she whispered.
“No,” I said. “I mean, she will do things, all sorts of things I don’t want to think about, when they’re together, together. I think she’s waiting until she’s left school; for when they’re living together.”
“For when they’re married,” Ginny insisted.
“They’re too young to get married,” I insisted. “They’re…” A thought struck me. “Is this why wizards get married straight out of school? Because otherwise all they have is a fumble with their best mate?”
“If you want to put it so crudely,” she said primly.
“Christ,” I said. I wondered if she expected to marry me next summer. I wondered if Ron expected to marry Hermione next summer. I wondered why Ron had never offered me a helping hand.
“What do Muggles do?” she asked tentatively.
“They sleep with their girlfriends and get married at about thirty,” I said, feeling way out of my depth.
“This sort of thing should be covered in Muggle Studies,” she said seriously.
“And vice versa,” I said. “No wonder Seamus’s poor dad didn’t have time to find out he was marrying a witch – he was too busy being desperate to shag her!”
“Harry!” she chided.
We looked at each other.
“So,” she said slowly. “You didn’t realise that I’m saving myself until we’re... I’m married.”
“No,” I said bluntly. “I thought it was gonna happen on my birthday, last year, if Ron hadn’t interrupted.”
“With my entire family in the house?” she asked faintly. “And my bedroom door unlocked?”
I shrugged.
“So, if you’re not being patient with me,” she continued, “and you’re not getting your… with Ron. Why haven’t you… made your move? Why aren’t we back together?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Haven’t thought about why, or haven’t thought about getting back together?” she asked.
“Both?” I said. “Look, it’s been one hell of a year, and I just assumed we’d… eventually we’d… I dunno, Ginny.”
“I’ve watched you follow Ron like a shadow all summer,” she said. “But if there was nothing… you didn’t need… then why?”
“Because he’s… we’re…” Actually, I had no idea why. “You didn’t see him, when he came back to us… and, without him there, I just…”
I really had no idea.
“You need to talk to him,” Ginny said firmly.
“About why we never…?” I asked weakly.
“It’s just not normal,” she said.
So.
How do you ask your best mate why he’s never accessed your tackle? I mean, no one means more to me that Ron does, I can’t imagine us being any closer, but it never occurred to him to help me get my rocks off? Apparently he was brought up to think I was normal to say ‘here, let me give you a hand with that, mate.’ Though I have problems with the mental image of Mrs Weasley saying ‘I’ll put a camp bed in your room, for Harry, so you can help him wank.’
But he never laid a hand on me.
Obviously we weren’t as close as I though we were. Well, he’s the only friend I ever had, and I can’t manage without him, and when he came back to me… to us… I wanted to hold on to him and never let go, but, well, what do I know?
Obviously, the way to ask him involved alcohol.
And luckily we know Seamus.
Seamus dragged the five of us out to The Leaky Cauldron in late October, muttering Celtically under his breath about us overdoing things.
“You don’t have to throw yourselves into work,” he said, drawing on the head of his Guinness with a fingertip. “Pointless, when they’re not even here to see how much you miss them.”
“Them, who?” I asked.
“The girls,” Dean said.
“Girls?” Neville asked, smiling at Hannah, who had started working behind the bar.
“Seamus thinks that me, Harry and Ron are working too hard and pining for Luna, Ginny and Hermione,” Dean explained.
“The five of us didn’t used to need work or women,” Seamus said firmly. “What happened to the Five Musketeers?”
I spotted my opening.
“Be a man, Shay,” I said. “Dean’s got his girl, now, but I’m sure she’s pleased he… learnt his craft from you.”
I carefully didn’t look at Ron, focussing instead on Dean’s confused face. At least I’d know more than poor old Muggleborn Dean.
If Ginny hadn’t been winding me up, that is, because there was a ringing silence, before Dean said, “What?” and I was wracking my brains for a reasonable explanation when Neville said, “You know, I always wondered if they were,” and Seamus said, “We never did – me cousin Fergus said Muggles are different, so I never offered.”
“Different how?” Neville asked.
Dean looked down at his body. “What the fuck are you talking about, Seamus?” he asked.
“They don’t do it,” Seamus explained to Neville.
“They do,” Neville said. “I’ve heard him.”
Ron sniggered and I chanced half a look at him. His ears were pink, but he was smiling at Dean’s bewilderment.
“Heard me what?” Dean asked plaintively.
“Wanking,” Seamus said.
Dean blinked rapidly and I felt a bit sorry for doing this to him.
“So,” he said finally. “We’re discussing whether or not I wank?”
“’Course not,” Neville said. “We’re discussing whether or not Seamus ever gave you a helping hand.”
“Why… would he do that?” Dean asked.
“’Cos you’re mates,” Neville said.
“We never…” Dean frowned. “We never did, Nev.”
“Because Muggles don’t,” Seamus said patiently. “I was being sensitive. Help me out here, Harry!”
“Well, I can’t speak for all Muggles,” I said. “But it’s not expected, no.”
“Expected?” Dean spluttered.
“Men have needs,” Neville explained earnestly.
“So do women,” Dean protested.
Neville blushed.
“Not before they’re married,” he said.
Dean snorted.
“Harry?” he pleaded.
“Women have needs, Neville,” I said. “Muggle women don’t save themselves for marriage.”
“What?” Ron squeaked.
“I feel I’ve strayed into a parallel universe,” Dean muttered. “Luna hasn’t saved herself.”
“Luna’s always different,” I said.
“But how was this never mentioned, some time in the past seven years?” Dean said.
“What was I s’posed to say?” Seamus asked. “‘Fancy a hand job, even if you’re Muggleborn?’ I’ve had to Do It Yourself myself, too.”
“You should have said, Seamus,” Neville said. “I’d have been only too happy to.”
“Ah, so all three of us have been missing out,” Seamus said.
“Well, no,” Neville admitted. “Once Michael Corner got so caught up with Ginny, I spent quite a lot of time with Anthony Goldstein.”
“Goldstein?” Seamus asked. “I’d have thought he’d have… well, he’s mates with Terry Boot, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Neville said. “But Terry’s gay.”
“OK, wait,” Dean said. “I’m trying to keep track, here. A bloke is expected to help his best mate wank until he settles down, but Seamus never offered, due to my Muggleborn sensitivities?”
“Yup,” Seamus said.
“Neville has been wanking with Goldstein of Ravenclaw, because his best mate is gay?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be fair to lead Terry on,” Neville explained. “It’s not a queer thing. And Terry always liked… someone else, anyway.”
“And I assume you and Ron always helped each other out,” Dean said, turning to me.
“No!” Ron yelped.
Neville and Seamus looked at him, curiously.
“No, we never… I…” he looked flustered.
“Well, I guess you thought I was brought up by Muggles, yeah?” I said helpfully.
“Well, yeah,” Ron said, looking transparently grateful. “It’s… different for Muggles.”
“But Harry knows all about it,” Neville said.
“I only found out recently,” I said hurriedly.
“Well, what a waste,” Seamus said, necking the last of his pint. “Who wants another drink?”
Dean huffed and watched him weave his way between the tables to the bar.
“You’re OK with this, are you, Harry?” he asked me.
I shrugged.
“I don’t think we’ll ever find out all the things we missed, growing up with Muggles,” I said. “And I’ve seen weirder things in the last seven years.”
Dean laughed, Seamus brought the drinks and we spoke of other things.
When Ron and I got home to Grimmauld Place we were pleasantly drunk and I knew it was the perfect time to ask him.
He sprawled on the couch and rolled his shoulders and blinked up at me and I cleared my throat.
“You, um, you didn’t know that Muggle blokes don’t get each other off, did you?” I asked.
“But you said they don’t,” he protested.
I waved that away and sat down beside him.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
“For all Dad’s told us about Muggles, somehow that never came up.”
“But you never… offered,” I said.
He shrugged helplessly.
“’Cos I… I never knew about all this… and then I did… and you never…” I babbled. “I thought it was a… friendship thing, and that you didn’t care… but if Neville and Anthony…”
“Harry, no.” he looked distraught. “You thought I didn’t care?”
I shrugged.
“That’s not…” He huffed and ran his hands through his hair. “That’s not the reason.”
“There’s a reason?”
“Please don’t do this,” he said. “I’ve dreaded this conversation.”
“You expected us to have this conversation?”
“Something like it,” he said. “Eventually.”
I looked hopeful and he groaned.
“Harry,” he said heavily. “It is absolutely the opposite reason, OK?”
“Opposite?”
“Opposite to not caring, and can we drop this, please?”
“But…”
“I didn’t offer,” he said pitifully, “because that would have been leading myself on.”
I blinked.
“Like Terry,” Ron said, making a strange hand gesture that made me wonder which one of us knew nothing about gay sex.
“So, you’re…” I nodded significantly.
“Like Terry,” Ron said mournfully.
“And have you and Terry ever…?”
“No,” Ron said. “I don’t fancy Terry.”
“But Neville and Anthony…”
“…are mates,” Ron interrupted, “helping each other out, until they are allowed to… put it somewhere… self lubricating. I’m not gonna sleep with Terry just because he’s gay, when he’s not my type.”
“Then, what is your type?” I asked.
He glared at me.
“Completely clueless savers of mankind,” he said bluntly.
“Come across many of those?” I asked weakly, my heart racing.
“I should be so lucky,” he muttered, drooping sadly on the couch.
I watched his ears flush and prayed I wasn’t about to mess up something rather important.
“Sometimes I thought you knew,” he said. “And were being… kind… not to mention it… and then, with the… the locket… when it said you are nothing to him, you must have known… and you hugged me… but you didn’t want me and…”
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Completely clueless,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why’re you sorry?” he asked. “Not knowing something isn’t nearly as bad as being… something you don’t know.”
I sighed and sat back beside him, companionably shoulder to shoulder.
“You should have said something,” I said.
He huffed. “Harry,” he said. “You never offered to wank with me, which sometimes I thought meant you knew about me, which meant you didn’t feel the same way.”
“I thought you were in love with Hermione,” I said.
“Completely clueless,” he muttered again.
“Ginny thought we were wanking together,” I said. “Neville thought we were wanking together. I think we missed an opportunity, here.”
I tried to look flirtatious.
“But you just want someone to wank with,” he said pitifully. “You don’t actually want it to be me”
“No I don’t,” I protested. “I didn’t know it was an option until Ginny mentioned it, and I have been tying myself in knots, wondering why you never wanted to try, and now it turns out you really, really wanted to, and it’s you and it’s me, and how could I not want to?”
“Because you’re straight,” he said.
“Possibly,” I admitted. “’Though we won’t know until we try, will we?” He snorted. “Ron, I spent most of last year watching Ginny’s dot on the Map, but I never wanked over it.”
He pulled a revolted face.
“I’m not just offended that we never wanked together,” I said. “I’m obsessed.”
“Really?” he said. “We’re not just leading me on?”
“I’d never do that,” I said solemnly.
He smiled a wobbly smile and moved closer.
“So,” I said, my eyes flicking down to his lap. “How d’we do this?”
“Why don’t we do this the traditional way, until we find out if you really want more?” he suggested.
“So... we wank and watch each other?” I asked, blinking as he unzipped and slid his jeans down his endless legs.
“No,” he said. “How queer’s that? Being turned on by watching another bloke bashing the bishop? We do each other.”
“See?” I said, scrambling out of my own jeans and boxers and kicking them away. “I have no idea what I’m doing, here.”
When we were naked, I took a deep breath and looked down at… him. It arched out of dark red pubes and looked back at me and I had no idea what I was doing but my heart was racing and my mouth was inexplicably watering.
“I’ll do you first, shall I?” Ron asked, reaching out and wrapping his long fingers round my stirring cock. “That way you’ll have nothing queerer than usual to look back on, if you don’t go for it. You can still look Neville in the face, yeah?”
I recognised this generous gesture on his part for what it was and I wondered what I’d done to deserve him as I sprawled on the couch and spread my legs for him. He knelt between them, careful not to touch me anywhere but my cock and I smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Trying to look detached and businesslike, he started stroking me, but I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly and his eyes were wide and vulnerable.
And I was right.
I relaxed and let myself feel, and it didn’t feel like I was being lazy and letting a mate get me off. It felt like my Ron, my stupid, beautiful, vulnerable, crude, devoted boy was breaking his heart to give me pleasure.
“More,” I moaned.
“Harry?” he whispered.
“More than this,” I begged. “Please, Ron. Together.”
His face lit up and he surged over me, one thigh hooked over mine, one hand braced on the back of the couch, taking his weight as he thrust against me, his mouth covering mine and his amazingly hard cock sliding against mine on every stroke.
I automatically opened up to him, my kisses desperate, my thighs spread wider, my hands cupping his arse and pulling him closer.
He moaned into my mouth, tangling his free hand in my hair as he rutted and writhed, letting out God knows how many years of pent up sexual tension.
He was certainly ahead of me, because his breath was harsh and his rhythm was breaking down and he threw his head back and I watched the joy on his face as he came. The tension left his body abruptly and he sagged, his come spurting and sliding between us, his shaking arms barely holding him up.
I started moving under him, partly so he didn’t start muttering about taking advantage of me, and partly because I was covered in a naked, trembling, sweaty, spunky Ron Weasley and had never been more turned on in my life.
I squeezed his arse, letting my fingertips slip between his cheeks as I thrust upwards, my cock sliding through his come and rubbing against the crisp hair on his belly.
“Good boy,” he murmured, clearly thrilled. “Come for me, Harry.”
I looked up into his happy face and cried out as my climax flashed through me and Ron’s mouth descended on mine and he swallowed my cry.
He moved to climb off me, but I turned to lay full length on the couch and pulled him down beside me. He huffed and arranged himself, one leg tucked between mine, one hand propping his head up, one doodling in our combined come on my stomach.
“So,” he said carefully. “More than just…”
“So much more,” I said swiftly.
“And we’re…”
“Gonna try everything,” I said.
Ron grinned manically and I slid a hand over his hip and round to pet his captivating arse.
“I should have known,” he said smugly.
I raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“How could you be straight?” he said. “When you’re famous for your Pat-Ron-arse?”