Chocolate Sauce - R - H/R
Title: Chocolate Sauce
Author: shocolate
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Words: 1360
Rating: R

Written for my beloved emmacmf - why I had to go all the way to NYC to fall madly in love with her, I have no idea.


Chocolate Sauce
****
I like to blame Hermione.

Not to her face; I'm not likely to tell her I blame her for my humiliating myself by making a pass at Harry.

And I wasn't to know… going in… that I wasn’t actually gonna humiliate myself.

I'm not likely to tell Hermione I credit her for my being quite this happy, her smugness would cause sparks like when you stroke a cat.

But if she hadn't been so… patronising – yes, Hermione, patronising – as to come armed with chocolate, when she broke up with me.

I knew it was coming; I'm not an idiot. She'd been gone all year, at school, and me and Harry had thrown ourselves into our training, and that time apart had shown us we could function without the other around.

That we could even fancy people, without the other around.

I'd noticed how much she'd talked about Terry, and she… well, she couldn’t have noticed how much I talked about my crush, because I talk about Harry all the time, anyway.

And my crush was pointless, anyway.

But I'd been wondering how to tell her I hadn't touched her boobs because they were scary, rather than because I was a gentleman.

And she turned up at the Burrow, one scorching hot Sunday afternoon, with some Look! Shiny! Shiny! I'm dumping you! Shiny! Look, Ron, chocolate! Shiny!

She'd brought a squeezy bottle of some mad Muggle chocolate sauce, that turned hard when you put it on ice cream.

Apparently.

I have no idea how.

Or why.

But she knows I'm my father's son, and she knows I love chocolate, and she had this whole speech about how much she loved my enthusiasm for things – friends, Muggle inventions, food, friends, food. And she knew I felt no more for her than my other friends, and maybe dating each other wasn’t such a good idea, because neither did she me.

Shiny! Shiny! Chocolate!

I let her think I was just the right amount of hurt, but touched by her thoughtfulness, and she left me to my heartache and my ice cream and I took them out to the garden, with my new Shiny! sauce, to feed Harry.

He was dozing under a tree, the sunshine filtering through the leaves and caressing his skin and making me feel exceptionally queer.

The selfish bastard wasn't to know I was supposed to be heartbroken and vulnerable, but I suppose he also didn't know how good he looks with his shirt off.

He lay on his front, on a blanket, his face pillowed on his forearms.

His jeans hanging low on his hips.

The dip of his spine should be illegal. It leads your eyes and mind places that are still illegal in seventeen countries in the International Wizarding Federation.

I sat down beside him, on his blanket, and sighed.

What was I gonna do without Hermione's boobs to hide behind? Not that they are all that huge. I mean what was I gonna do without everyone assuming I'm at least trying to access them.

People will want to set me up with people.

Soft people, with boobs and without Harry's perfect back.

And Harry. He'll assume I need someone new.

I mean, I was used to going everywhere with Harry, and people were used to me glaring at the witches who ask him to… sign their boobs. But they see me as the bodyguard, and I'll never be the… boyfriend, so it has been… comfortable, having everyone know that me and Hermione were together.

But now.

One day one of the witches I glare at will glare back and Harry will smile at her and… she won't really care about him and she'll claim she thinks she loves his smile, but she won't know what his back looks like and… and I'll have to step back, anyway, and watch him get his heart broken, and no one will care that I care.

Oh, Harry knows that I care, and of course he'll come to me when he gets his heart broken, but I won't be allowed to…

My eyes fell on his back.

…I won't be allowed to run my fingers down his spine and… my hands tightened on the squeezy bottle of Shiny! chocolate sauce.

Harry's back wasn't cold enough to freeze the sauce, and I knew it was ridiculous, but I found myself upending it and letting the sticky chocolate drip carefully drip, drip, drip one side, drip, drip, drip the other side.

Filling the dimples in his lower back.

Harry didn't stir and I sat and admired my handiwork for a moment.

I love those dimples… they make my thumbs itch to…

It wasn't too late.

Dribbling chocolate into those mesmerising dimples could just be funny, could pass for best mates stuff.

But not leaning down and sealing my mouth over one and licking out the chocolate sauce.

Harry stiffened, under my mouth.

Those words echoed around my brain and I groaned, into his skin.

"Ron?" he croaked.

I helplessly slid my thumb into the damp dimple I'd licked clean and dragged my open mouth across his back to its twin.

He was gonna kill me.

I sucked hard as I lapped the chocolate off his body and he gasped and he was gonna kill me.

When there was nothing left that I could have an even borderline excuse for licking, I pressed my second thumb into his second dimple and marvelled at how it was a perfect fit.

I rested my forehead in the small of his back and waited for everything I care about to be snatched away from me.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Ruining everything," I muttered.

"Get up," he said.

"No."

"Ron."

"Hermione broke up with me with chocolate sauce," I said into his skin.

"What?"

"She thinks I'm shallow and easy to distract with chocolate. It goes hard when you pour it on ice cream."

"Goes hard?" he echoed.

"But not when you pour it on someone's back. Apparently."

"Ron, get up."

"No," I said, spreading my hands on his hips and leaning on him.

"I'm not… angry," he said. "I don't mind you pouring chocolate sauce on my back."

"It doesn't taste very chocolately," I said sadly. "Now I have no girlfriend and bad chocolate sauce."

Apparently he'd had enough, because he suddenly wriggled under my hands and managed to roll onto his back.

Leaving me with my forehead pressed against his belly and my mouth hovering over an interesting bulge in his jeans.

"Why did you lick it up?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head, my lips an inch from his cock, and a hand grabbed my hair. He pulled my head up and I braced myself for the anger in his face, but he looked almost scared.

"Ron," he said. "Please… what are you doing? I understand that you're… heartbroken and stuff, but…"

He squirmed, beneath me, as I tried to work out why there was an interesting bulge in his jeans.

"I'm not heartbroken," I said.

"Why did you lick it up?" he repeated.

"Dimples," I croaked.

"What?"

"There are these two dimples in your back…"

"You… wanted to lick… me?" he asked. "Not just the chocolate?"

I nodded slowly, watching his face.

"Me?" he breathed, letting go of my hair.

"M'sorry," I said, sitting back on my heels and letting him sit up.

"Give me the sauce," he said.

I blinked and panicked and reached for the squeezy bottle and handed it to him.

"M'sorry," I repeated. "It's Hermione's fault…"

"Take off your shirt," he said.

"I…"

"Take off your shirt," he ordered.

I swallowed hard and grabbed the collar of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head.

Frowning with concentration, Harry held the bottle by my neck and squeezed, letting the chocolate fall in a criss-crossing trail across my shoulder and down my arm.

"Harry?" I croaked.

He discarded the bottle and scrambled onto his hands and knees.

"Harry?" I repeated, looking into huge green eyes.

"Scars," he said.

"What?"

"Scars," he whispered, lowering his head and closing his mouth over the beginning of the chocolate pathway.