FIC for goneoffthelump
FOR: goneoffthelump
FROM: shocolate
TITLE: Five Is An Odd Number (2/2)
RATING: NC-17
WORDS: 17,482
SUMMARY: Why isn't there a book of all the ridiculous things that you just don't find out, being dragged up by Muggles?
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter and Ron Weasley portrayed within are fictional and of age and can fondle and probe whatever they want to; they do not belong to me, they just make my life worth living.
GENRE: Romance, Humour
WARNINGS: Mentions of various canon and as-canon-as-Harry/Ron pairings, which means het pairings, obviously. Also, oodles of rimming.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My sweet, you asked for such, such loveliness, and I had a ball writing for you… even if it ended up being just a little bit… strange… but the Wizarding World is a very strange place… So many thanks to my M&M for the beta.
Five Is An Odd Number (2/2)
~~~*~~~
I tracked Hermione down to the kitchen, where she was eating chocolate biscuits and reading a pile of parchment that probably weighed as much as she did.
"A little light reading?" I asked, sitting beside her.
"Ha ha," she said. "Where'd'you get to? Ron got back a couple of hours ago."
"Neville," I said vaguely. "Where's Ron? Is he okay? Did he say anything?"
"Upstairs, I think so, no," she answered. "What's wrong?"
"Something Neville said," I said, wondering how on earth I was going to start this conversation.
"Neville upset him?" she demanded. "That really doesn't sound very likely."
"No," I said. "Neville didn't upset him; I upset him."
"That sounds more like it," she said dryly.
"Hey," I protested. "It wasn't my fault. They were both discussing some Wizarding thing I'd ever heard of, and I put my foot in it… it wasn't my fault."
"Hmmm," she said. "Fair enough. What were they discussing?"
"Something that… it… you… it affects you, Hermione, so I had to talk to you, before I make amends with Ron."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Right," I said. "Have you ever heard about being… Partners, and… Magical Cores and… stuff?"
"Of course," she said. "I've been discussing the traditional preventatives with Madam Pomfrey, because there is some recent research, in the latest literature, that seems to indicate it won't be as effective with those of us turning nineteen, during this school year. She wants to stick to what she knows, won't consider any Partnerships while we're still at school, particularly with anyone under eighteen."
I sat and gaped at her, trying very hard not to picture the… remedy she was suggesting, but it's really hard not to picture her and Ginny… touching each other, once someone's mentioned it.
"Oh my god," she said, studying my gormless expression. "You hadn't heard about it."
I shook my head, slowly, not wanting to jostle the imaginary naked Ginny, who was sitting astride the imaginary naked Hermione and grinding down against her.
"What did Neville say?" she asked gently.
"He wanted to know if you were leaving school," I said weakly. "He hoped you and Ron were getting married, and he… offered for me."
"Oh, how sweet," she said, "poor Neville."
"Poor Harry," I protested. "The first I hear of my arse belonging to Ron is when Neville puts his… bid in."
She tutted.
"You've always been Ron's," she pointed out.
"But not like this," I said.
"Yes, like this," she argued. "You just didn't know it."
I grunted.
"So, what happened?" she asked.
"Ron realised I'd never known and got all flustered, and left." I sighed. "And Neville explained it all to me; he was so matter of fact about it all - said he'd always known five was an odd number."
"I suppose someone should check that Dean knows," she mused. "He's Muggleborn and missed his seventh year classes. I can imagine Seamus just assuming he knows and blundering in."
I tried not to imagine the 'in', but I'd been picturing almost every bloke I know being buggered, all day, and couldn't help picture Dean's long legs hooked over Seamus's shoulders.
"Don't worry about Dean," I muttered. "Dean knows. Anyway. I went to talk to Bill about it, because Neville only knew the theory…"
"What a good idea," she said happily. "He did wonders for Remus."
"How d'you know about that?" I demanded.
"Tonks told me," she said.
"Oh god," I moaned, burying my head in my hands. "Tonks told you she was with Fleur, that Bill took care of Remus… that Remus and Sirius?"
"Oh, Harry," she said, resting a cool hand on the back of my neck. "This is my fault; I should have realised that no one had told you."
"And you're okay with all this?" I asked, looking up at her sympathetic face.
"With Bill having helped heal Remus?" she asked.
I waved that away.
"With… being with Ginny," I muttered.
"Ginny and I have talked about it," she said. "She's thrilled that I'm going back to school, that I won't be Partnered by the time she's ready."
"But you can't be … thrilled," I protested.
"Is there something wrong with Ginny?" she asked.
"No," I said, "just that you're Muggleborn and never expected to have to… sleep with a woman, or marry too young."
"Don't you feel it?" she asked.
"What?" I asked warily, trying not to picture Ginny's bits.
"Your Magic," she said. "It's like an… ache. I know it needs something, and no, I don't intend to get married and pregnant at eighteen, so the thought of Ginny … soothing the ache… keeping me safe…"
She flushed.
"Wow," I said. "That's… But what about…"
"What about what?" she prompted.
"Me and Ron," I said in a small voice. "He's yours; what d'you think of me and Ron?"
"Oh, Harry," she said, throwing her arms around me and smothering me with hair. "Is that what you're worrying about?"
I nodded, somewhere deep in her hair.
She sat back, holding me at arms length and shook me.
"Maybe one day Ron will be mine like that," she said. "But I'm not jumping the gun by five or six years, just to protect my Core. The thought that you and Ron will be Partners, will be taking care of each other, that that added bond will help keep you both safe, at work. Such a weight off my mind, and that Bond has always been there, anyway, hasn't it? I could not possibly feel I was leaving him in safer hands."
She beamed at me.
"Safe," I said. "It sounds crazy, but that's what I've been thinking all day. How I'll be safe."
She nodded encouragingly.
"Is… is that my Magic, or me?" I asked. "Which one needs him?"
"It's the same thing," she said firmly. "You need him. And you need to tell him. He must be up there, worrying you feel… violated. Harry, you have to go to him. It's time."
"With you downstairs?" I asked.
She leant closer and kissed me on the cheek.
"I'm taking this up to the school," she said, gathering up her papers. "I'm going to convince Madam Pomfrey to let Ginny Partner at seventeen."
"Good luck," I said.
"And you," she said.
She strode purposefully to the fire and Flooed away, leaving me to… seduce her boyfriend.
I'd never seduced anyone; I wouldn't know where to begin. Well, I could probably walk into the Three Broomsticks and flash my scar, offer to buy some young… woman a drink. But what comes next?
Wanna come back to my place and see my sword?
And getting someone drunk enough to assume you're gonna shag them is not the point, anyway.
The point is that my Ron was somewhere upstairs, convinced I wasn't interested in… buggering him, when nothing could be further from the truth. Every word that Neville, Bill, Ginny, George, Lee, Dean and Hermione had said had shown me that I - and my Magic - needed Ron like the air I breathed.
Which should be easy enough to put into words, while he gibbered and apologised for having any unwelcome intentions towards my arse.
I sighed and set off, upstairs, looking for my Partner.
Which should have been easy; it's a big house, but not that big. Ron wasn't in his room, or my room, or the drawing room, and I'd walked up and down the stairs twice before thinking of looking in Hermione's room. He was in there, sitting on the floor, leaning up against her wardrobe, with what looked horribly like a pair of her knickers in his hands.
I'd meant to say something wonderful about taking care of each other and how safe I felt around him, but he was fondling Hermione's knickers and it came out wrong.
"You could marry her, before she goes back to school," I said abruptly.
Ron tilted his face up, his tired eyes meeting mine, his fingers tangling in Hermione's underwear.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
"You should have got married last year, you bloody idiots, turning eighteen and suffering just to follow me."
He nodded and looked down at the floor.
"Thought it would be worth it," he muttered. "The right thing and all that. Not as if we could have got married, anyway, in that fucking tent. Not as if you and me could have… not with the three of us, sharing… and that's why I thought we never mentioned it. And I'm sorry. But married sounds good. Then we can forget this ever happened."
"What?" I spluttered. "You 'forget' a drunken snog, not a… this. It's out there. I know about Partners, now, and I'm not going to forget that you wanted to. And I should know; it's kinda important."
"But you don't have to do it," he said. "You can… persuade Ginny to leave school and get married, or something."
"To protect me from your advances?"
"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "What else can I say? I'm sorry I… thought of you like that."
"That's not what you should be sorry for," I protested.
"And… damaging Hermione by not marrying her, yet," he said, adlibbing wildly. "And letting her go back to school… and not warning Neville off…"
"Not telling me," I interrupted.
"It's obviously not something you want to be told," he said petulantly. "You didn't exactly run after me and say everything was… that we were…"
"Oh, Ron," I said, sitting down beside him and trying to pick my words carefully. "If I'd run straight after you, we'd have had a huge row, in the street - and in the papers."
"Because it's just that bad an idea," he said. "I get the message."
"Because it was a brand new idea, you idiot," I said. "Because I needed to find out more about what was involved, first."
"So you went to the library?" he asked. "You know, if I'd wanted to marry Hermione straight away…"
He sighed and wound her knickers round his fist.
"I didn't go to the library. I asked a couple of people how things worked… I didn’t understand what happens…and if you Part… and there's Secondaries… and if Ginny actually was okay with me and you being… and how complicated it all gets… a serious decision… as serious as getting married… and you're gonna be an uncle."
"What?" he demanded, turning a pale, stricken face on me.
"What?"
"You and Ginny… what?"
"Me and Ginny what, what?"
"Are having a baby?"
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" I spluttered. "Unless in the Wizarding World you get a girl pregnant by thinking about fucking her brother, which would not surprise me, after the information overload I've had today!"
"You said I'm gonna be an uncle," he said, jabbing me in the chest through the crotch of Hermione's knickers.
"It's Angelina," I shouted.
"What is?"
"Who's pregnant, you imbecile."
"How could you possibly know that?" he scoffed. "You didn't even know they were together."
"Because I went to see George," I said.
"What?" he squeaked.
Things weren't going quite as smoothly or seductively as I'd hoped.
"As if George needs more ammunition to mock me," he complained. "You and me's the only thing I've done to make him proud of me, and now you've gone and whined at him, about me thinking of you like that. My one thing."
"So, that's how it went," I said, trying hard not to lose patience with him, when this was supposed to be my big seduction scene. "I went and bitched at George about you looking at me in the showers."
His neck flushed pink and he shrugged a petulant shoulder.
"And I s'pose he was so keen to have me in the family, rather than you, that he asked me to marry Angelina," I went on, watching his miserable face and wondering how far I should push him. "Any woman's bits being more appealing to me than my favourite person in the whole fucking world. And you can… well, you can crawl to Neville. Who cares?"
He set his jaw and stared down at his hands, pleating the knickers between nervous fingers. What was I supposed to do to get those fingers interested in… what he'd apparently been interested in for years.
My arse clenched at the thought, but not in a bad way, and I moved closer.
"Sorry," he muttered. "What did George have to say, then?"
"I asked him about partnering with his best mate, actually," I said and he peeped at me though his fringe. "He and Lee are so close, so devoted, that Lee had to talk him into Parting and marrying Angelina if you must know, and I thought it was… wonderful. Helped me see that that was what you could see."
"See… for us?" he asked.
"Of course for… yes, Ron, for us," I confirmed. "I'm sorry I never knew, before. Can we… start again?"
He spread the knickers out, on his thigh, smoothing them down and running a fingertip round the… groinal area, as if he was fingering Hermione.
"What's with the knickers, anyway?" I asked, when the silence and the proxy molestation of my proxy sister got too loud.
"Trying to… adjust," he muttered.
"Adjust her… bits?" I asked tentatively.
"No," he snorted. "Adjust my brain. Get rid of all the plans for your underwear and focus on the frillies I wasn't expecting for nine or ten years. Trying to picture myself touching her, wondering what it feels like."
"You never pictured her bits, before?" I asked, dreading the answer, either way.
"Only in a… whitewashed cottage way," he explained, inadequately.
"I apologise, in advance, for them being your sister's bits," I said," but I've dreamt of and touched a girl's bits, and there is nothing whitewashed, or cottagelike about them."
"Not that I think Hermione whitewashes her area," he spluttered, pointing at the paintfree crotch of the knickers he was still absently fondling. "Just that… look, we've moved out of the Burrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," I said, wondering where he was going with this.
"And we've… well, you've confused my metaphor by owning this fucking… mansion," he complained. "But I used to think we'd leave school and get a really cool flat together, and we'd work hard and play hard and… do all the things we'd ever dreamt of, and then, years down the line, I reckoned I'd probably marry Hermione and we'd find a little whitewashed stone cottage, just down the coast from you and Ginny, and live happily ever after."
"And…" I prompted.
"And Hermione's bits are like a cottage, in that I don't see myself in one, any time soon, and I don't have any strong opinions about the… colour of the curtains," I bit my lip, to stop the snort of laughter that would have interrupted his earnest explanation. "But I've given a lot of thought to how we'd… decorate our flat. And picturing myself… in there."
"Using the rear entrance," I suggested and he glared at me.
"Look, I expected to die," I said. "I really never thought a… cottage with red roses around the door was in my future, at all - whether that meant Ginny's pubes or yours."
He frowned.
"But now I've been… handed the keys to a brilliant place, with an unexpectedly handy rear entrance and… noble pillars, erected out front… and I'm running out of metaphor, here, Ron."
"S'cos you're rubbish at it," he said, his lips twitching.
"But it feels like home," I said plainly. "I never thought I was a… pillars sort of bloke, but when you're home, you just know it."
He examined my face, closely, before drying his sweaty palms on Hermione's much abused knickers and dropping them.
"So," he said, wetting his lips, nervously. "You'll think about it?"
"I don't have to," I said. "I've been thinking of nothing else, all day. I'm that bit younger than you, so I don't s'pose it feels as bad, yet, but it's there, now I look for it; an ache, something in my Magic, pulling me towards you."
He half reached for me, an 'oh my god, I haven't ruined everything' smile elbowing its way onto his face, and I held out my hand.
He grabbed it, his fingers tightening and digging into mine.
"Oh, Harry," he breathed. "I thought I'd fucked everything up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, arse, bollocks."
He laughed, shakily, and I tugged on his hand, pulling him closer until he buried his face in my neck. I put my arm around his shoulders as he leant against me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he continued to mutter, into my skin, making me shiver and causing my cock to take a keen interest.
"Yes please," I said.
He froze.
"Harry?"
"How does it work?" I asked. "Do we both have to…" I made a penetrative gesture with two fingers and his eyes opened wide.
"Don't reckon so," he said. "Or what would girls do? You're just supposed to do… enough… stuff and you'll… feel it."
"Is there something we have to… do, first?" I asked.
"I was waiting for you to tell me it was time," he murmured. "You being…"
"No Chosen One crap," I protested.
"You being so fucking spectacular," he said indignantly, pulling back far enough to glare at me. "And so… recently dead, and everything."
"Then… it's time," I said simply.
I stood up and held out my hand, to help him to his feet.
"But I don't just want this," he said. "I really want this and you…"
I'd had enough of talking about our feelings; I kissed him.
It was awful.
He was still babbling and declaring his undying something; he was far too tall and the angle was all wrong and I'd never tipped my head back to kiss someone, before; he didn't kiss me back.
"No one mentioned kissing," I said weakly, taking a step backwards. "Don't tell me: no kissing."
"You took me by surprise," he protested, catching my sleeve and pulling me against him. "I'll show you kissing."
I laughed with relief as his arms went round me, one round my waist, one hand sliding into my hair as I automatically pressed back into it, my face tipping up as he bent and covered my lips with his.
It was fantastic.
Ron's arms were strong and his mouth was hot and he teased and nipped and devoured mine and my arms went up around his neck as I stood on tiptoe to press closer. Finally, he broke away, leaving my tongue reaching for his.
"Didn't think our first kiss would be in Hermione's bedroom," he murmured.
"Serves her right," I said, grinning stupidly up at him. "I can see why no none else ever got 'round to mentioning the Partner thing, but how did Hermione never say 'just wait until you kiss him'?"
He laughed and I bit my lip and let my hands smooth over his shoulders and down his chest and I reached for his shirt buttons. His hands covered mine and stopped me and my Magic throbbed and I was surprise how much I didn't want to stop.
"No more," he said, "not here."
I actually growled and he caught my hand and dragged me from the room, cornering so sharply as he dashed along the landing that I stumbled against the banisters.
"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, plunging down the stairs with me bobbing in his wake, towards our bedrooms. I laughed at his flattering haste, before ploughing into him, from behind, as he stopped at the bottom of the flight.
"Ron?" I said.
He dropped my hand and turned round.
"Whose room?" he asked, a flush on his cheekbones. "Or maybe we should… well, I wasn't expecting… shower?"
But I wasn't listening.
Standing on the step above him put us eye to eye and I threw my arms round his neck and kissed him.
"Oh," he gasped between kisses. "Here, then."
His large hands ran down my back and settled on my arse, pulling me against him. Hard. Standing on the step above him put us cock to cock and I moaned as they pressed against each other.
"I love these stairs," I muttered.
"I don't want to share a flat, anymore," he said, his eyes going out of focus as we rocked. "Stairs are good."
I think he moved to put one thigh between mine, but I chose that moment to be ridiculous and try and jump and wrap my legs around his waist and he couldn't support my weight and stumbled forwards, his hands leaving my arse and reaching behind me, as we fell.
"Fuck," he protested as his hands and knees hit the stairs.
"S'okay," I said, ignoring the pain in my back and buttocks as he settled between my spread legs. "Stairs good."
He looked down at me, his all too familiar 'you're insane' look melting into something so… hot, I thought he was going to bite me.
Bracing one hand on the step above my head, he rocked back on his knees and surged against me.
"Stairs very good," he confirmed, as he flexed and rubbed our cocks together. "Gonna get a flight of stairs tattooed somewhere."
"Don't need to," I moaned, reaching between us and unbuttoning and unzipping our jeans. "Got them imprinted on my arse."
His breath hitched as he came up onto his knees just far enough to look down and watch me push his jeans and boxers over the curve of his arse and free his rather impressive erection. All jokes about the size of his feet dried in my throat as I managed to push my briefs down far enough to bare myself for him and he moaned and collapsed on top of me, pressing his cock against mine and making me whimper.
I automatically wrapped my hand round them both and gazed up at him as he thrust into the circle of my fingers. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them and I reached up with my free hand to pull his face down to mine.
"Fuck s'good," he moaned into my mouth.
"S'the stairs," I hissed. "I love these stairs."
His laugh turned to a stream of swear words and a look of pained amazement as I squeezed our cocks together and he came all over my fingers.
"Fuck, Harry," he whispered into my neck, collapsing onto knees and elbows and breathing heavily. "HarryHarryHarry."
I slid my spunk free hand into his long red hair and rubbed circles on his scalp while he recovered.
He knelt up, his cock sliding through my fingers, leaving me with stains on my jeans and holding my own protesting erection.
"Fuck," he repeated.
I gestured at my groin.
"C'mon," he said, grimacing as he pulled up his jeans and tucked himself away. "Let's make it to the bedroom, this time."
"What about me?" I protested.
"Bedroom; anything you want," he promised.
I grumbled to my feet and wiped my hand on my briefs; leaving my jeans unzipped, I followed him towards my bedroom, watching his arse flexing and wondering just what anything I wanted.
"I really need a shower," he said, pausing in the doorway. "I feel a bit grubby."
"Well, someone just came on me," I pointed out.
"We could…" he waggled his eyebrows, staring at my still noticeable bulge.
"Are you suggesting we shower together, before we're Partnered?" I protested.
"Yes."
"But are we Partnered, yet?" I asked. "Do you feel any different?"
"I feel good," he said. "But I don't think we're there, yet. D'you feel different?"
"I feel like someone just came on me."
He rolled his eyes, doubled back down the landing, towards the bathroom, snatching a kiss as he passed me. By the time I shook myself and followed him, he'd started the clanking shower into life, shed his jeans and trainers and was unbuttoning his shirt.
"Just like that?" I asked, watching the shirt join the jeans on the bathroom floor.
"I've undressed in front of you, before," he said, testing the water temperature.
"But not for me," I pointed out. "Aren't you nervous?"
"I'm feeling pretty mellow, actually," he said dropping his boxers and kicking them and his socks away. "I just came."
He tried to look all suave, or something, but his blush gave him away.
"Take something off, Harry," he said. "I'm naked, here."
"Right," I said, pressing my hand against my still semi interested cock. "I, um."
He bravely stepped closer and I automatically reached up for a kiss.
"Good boy," he murmured, distracting me with his tongue as he helped me undress. He knelt at my feet, to undo my trainers, as I dragged my shirt over my head, and my cock strained towards him. He looked up and saw it pointed straight at him and gulped.
"Shower," he squeaked and scrambled to his feet.
I finished undressing, dropped my glasses onto my pile of clothes and we both stepped over the edge of the antique bath; I watched the water splashing down on him, darkening his hair and running down his neck, streams crisscrossing over the old scars on his arms and shoulders, clinging to the hair on his chest and belly, running down his legs. He was still tall and skinny but the muscles in his arms flexed as he reached for the soap and I stopped his hand and took it from him.
"What?" he said, blinking water away and shaking his head.
"Wet suits you," I said, licking my lips.
"Really?" he asked, looking down his body, as the droplets played dot to dot with his freckles. "You think so?"
"I really completely do," I said, soaping my hands and stepping closer.
I know he was watching me, but I didn't look up, just concentrated on my task. Running my hands over his shoulders, following the pale scars down his arms, realising I'd always wanted to touch them, leaning in to kiss his upper arm, where he'd splinched himself.
"Oh," he gasped.
I glanced up, quickly, but he was watching my hands as they came together on his chest and moved downwards.
"Thought it was whatever you wanted, next?" he murmured, parting his legs as my slippery fingers bypassed his cock and slid between them.
"I want you nice and clean," I said, kneeling to continue down his legs.
"So you can dirty me up again," he scoffed.
I looked up, and up and met his eyes and nodded, slowly and deliberately, and tried to look all sexy, but his face split with a delighted boyish grin and I huffed and grabbed his thighs and tugged, to turn him around.
He obediently rotated on the spot, leaving me face to arse with something that pulled at either my Magic or my general teenage horniness, because I bit it.
Ron jumped, but didn't seem to mind, so I spent a couple of minutes slowly soaping his arse, swirling the bubbles around on his cheeks, admiring the way his skin paled and then pinked when I dug my fingers in.
He took a shaky step away from me and I almost protested, but he turned the shower down to a trickle and rested his folded arms on the tiled wall, letting his head droop over them, small rivulets of water still hitting his shoulders and running down his back.
I watched a droplet of water follow his spine, before dribbling between his cheeks and I leant forward and stopped it with the tip of my tongue.
"Fuck," Ron muttered.
I didn't want to say Dean said it's all tongues up arses, so I kept my mouth busy by sliding my tongue deeper down his crack and making him whimper and push back against me. He spread his legs as far apart as the sides of the old fashioned bath allowed and arched his back and I smiled and turned my hands, holding his cheeks apart and watching the water splash down between them. It was an unbelievably erotic sight and I soon found myself hypnotising both of us by running my thumb in circles around his entrance.
"Can I?" I asked, my voice cracking and I took his groaned reply for a yes and lowered my head.
My tongue touched his delicate skin and he moaned something unintelligible. Assuming he would have stopped me by now if it was as dreadful as the words tongues up arses implied, I carried on, lapping up water drops and burying my face between his cheeks.
I had no idea how I'd gone so swiftly from never thinking of him like that to trying to press my tongue inside him, but he was making amazing keening noises and I couldn't believe that something as simple as my tongue could have him shaking and gasping.
By stretching him slightly with a fingertip, first, I managed to push deeper with my tongue and he abruptly fell to his knees, his hands scrabbling at the taps.
"Have to get you clean," he babbled. "This is the last possible moment that I can stop and let you shower, without dying."
"What?" I said, blinking away water and tasting him on my tongue.
"Point of no return," he muttered, picking up the soap and frantically running it over my chest and belly. "Trying so hard not to beg you to fuck me, in case you stop and calmly point out you haven't showered yet, you tricky bastard."
He soaped his hands thoroughly and briskly washed my aching cock, without seeming to realise what he was doing to me. I watched his gorgeous long fingers cup my balls and slip between my legs, before gasping and looking up at his face as they slid between my cheeks and carefully lathered and probed.
"Oh," I gasped, as his soapy finger slid inside me. "Oh, Ron."
"See?" he said wildly, pulling me close with his other hand and kissing me. "Too good to stop, right?"
I nodded slowly, automatically bearing down on his finger and making him swear loudly.
"Ah, how'm I s'posed to choose, now?" he complained, staring at my face. "My cunning plan was to get you clean as quick as possible, so you could go back to what you were doing, but look at you."
I laughed shakily, before rising up on my knees and pressing down onto his hand, again. He groaned and pulled me clumsily onto his lap and I buried my face in his neck and listened to the water thundering down on our heads as he held me tight and slowly fucked me with his finger. My own hand fell to my cock and I tugged hard, matching the slight pain as he stretched me and I leant into the kisses he was pressing into my hair.
"I want," I moaned.
"What d'you want?" he asked.
"Want," I repeated desperately, my hand speeding up on my shaft as Ron slid a second soapy finger inside me.
"Anything," he said. "Anything."
I gasped and clung to him, my climax surging through me, my come splattering our bodies and being washed away, my muscles tightening around his fingers.
When my breathing returned to normal, I was curled up in his arms and the water was turning cold. I looked up at him and he smiled at me and touched my face.
"Never seen anything like it," he said.
"Never felt anything like it," I moaned.
He reached behind him and turned the shower off.
"Bed?" he asked.
"I don't think my legs work," I said, trying to untangle myself.
"Good," he said smugly.
"Fuck off," I complained. "I don't want you thinking I'm some lightweight."
"I think you're fantastic," he said simply.
"Fuck off," I repeated, trying hard not to grin like an idiot.
"Bed?" he asked again.
"Bed," I confirmed.
"D'you have anything… lubricantlike?" he asked stepping over the side of the bath.
"Uh, no," I admitted, peering short sightedly round the bathroom and not finding anything slipperier than what looked like shampoo.
"Then mine," he said firmly.
"Your what?" I asked, stooping to pick up my glasses and putting them on to admire his arse as I followed him down the landing.
"My room," he said.
"You have lubricant?" I asked, stopping in his doorway and watching him frantically throwing dirty clothes into the corner and straightening the old sheets on his bed.
"I was waiting for you to say something, wasn't I?" he said pointedly, opening a drawer in his bedside table and holding out a jar of Jeannie's Jell, a bottle of Orifice Oil and a tube of Maximarse Moistener.
"Wow," I said, crossing over to the bed and unscrewing the lid of the jar. "Be prepared!"
He shrugged one shoulder and muscles moved in his chest and I shivered at the thought of what we were about to do.
"I didn't know what you'd like best," he said. "But I'd've wanted something a little less manky than my three day old sheets."
"My room's no better," I pointed out. "I think that may be the best bit about Partnering."
"I bloody well hope not," Ron said, leaping onto the bed.
I stuck two fingers in the jell and scooped some out, testing it between my fingertips.
"What d'you…"
"Turn over," I interrupted. "I was busy doing something before you went mental in the shower."
"If you call it mental when I stick something… you know, we're gonna have a problem," he said, obediently rolling over and burying his face in scarred forearms. The pink flush to the back of his neck and the inability to say 'arse' showed he felt as embarrassed as me, so I knelt and kissed the tip of an ear that was visibly through his damp hair.
"Whatever I want; you promised," I reminded him.
"Yeah," he murmured, visibly relaxing and letting his legs casually part.
I ran my thumb the length of his spine, before letting my jell covered fingers take the lead, down the crack of his arse. He made a happy noise, so I lingered, petting him and separating his cheeks as I got closer to his hole. It really didn't look very big, and the tip of my tongue had barely breached it and I was feeling out of my depth and my finger slipped inside and I was feeling in his depth and he moaned and pushed back at me.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I blurted out.
Ron stopped writhing under my hand and lifted his head.
"What?" he asked weakly. "You're changing your mind?"
"No!" I assured him. "No, I just… I don't know what I'm doing… next."
He nodded and swallowed and his muscles tightened around my finger.
"Just… more," he muttered. "More of that… and then more fingers… and then…"
"Right," I said, letting my finger slide out of him and reaching for the jar.
"What?" he said, looking back over his shoulder as I paused.
"No," I said. "More, yes, good."
He collapsed back onto the pillows and arched his back, not very subtly. I looked from his body, to my fingers, to the lightly shimmering jelly. Using the hand that hadn't been up somebody's arse, I scooped up some more lubricant and dribbled it between his cheeks; he moaned appreciatively and spread his legs.
"Good?" I asked, running a finger after it, and spreading it around his entrance.
"Good," he echoed. "And, um."
"And um?"
"Um… edible."
"Edible?"
"Well… safe… if you… swallowed any."
The back of his neck flushed.
"Ah," I said, watching my finger slowly pressing back inside him, up to the second knuckle. "That is good. Good for Jeannie. Very sensible. Thinks of everything, doesn't she?"
For some reason, my tongue would rather babble than return to exploring Ron's arse. And I know that that actually sounds quite reasonable, and that most people would rather babble than press their tongue inside him, even when they'd personally spent ages washing his arse, first.
But I wanted the unbelievable noised I’d dragged out of him, in the shower, and I did want to do it again; it just seemed so… deliberate to lie down between his legs and spread his cheeks.
Which was insane.
Who was gonna judge me?
Unless there was some strange reason wizards announced such things to the world, only Ron would ever know, and it was pretty clear that he wanted me to use my mouth. Wondering if there was even a word for what I was about to do, and half wishing I could ask Hermione, I took off my glasses and settled between his legs, smiling as he lifted his hips off the bed to shove a pillow under them and rubbing my cock against the bedsheets.
"Thanks," I said politely, admiring the improved view.
His balls were pushed back, between his thighs, and I leant closer and nuzzled them, carefully. Ron hummed happily and I decided that Partnering was brilliant. No, I'd never really thought about nuzzling another bloke's balls, but there was nothing scary about a scrotum. I'd made a decent attempt at petting Ginny' bits, but had no idea what I was touching, or what she'd feel she should pretend she didn't want me to do. But balls? If anyone - and, by that, I obviously mean whichever sexy redhead I was naked with, and not someone completely asexual, like Malfoy, or Hermione, or Kreacher. If anyone had got me naked and then offered to suck on my balls, well, I'd have been putty in their hands.
Realising that I could just do whatever I thought would feel good, I opened my mouth and lapped at him, before sucking one globe into my mouth and rolling it gently around with my tongue. Ron groaned and spread his legs further.
"Fuck, s'good," he muttered.
It was; it really was. He tasted fantastic and his arse was flexing as I sucked on him and I could smell a delicious spicy combination of his body and Jeannie's Jell. Wanting to literally crawl inside him, I let his sac fall from my mouth and ran my tongue up the pathway to my goal. He trembled under my mouth as I held his cheeks apart and circled him with the tip of my tongue. His low moan caught and turned into a strangled cry as I pressed inside, continuing to circle as I stretched him.
Clumsily, he rose up onto his knees and I knelt behind him, my face buried between his cheeks, lapping and probing and alternating with a finger and then two, as Ron whimpered into his pillow and pushed back against me. It was startlingly hot inside him and smooth muscles clutched at my fingers, drawing them further in as I reached for the lubricant.
"Can we?" I asked, sitting on my heels and watching him arch his back as I pressed more of Jennie's Jell inside him and spread my fingers.
"S'a bit late to ask," he gasped.
"I mean, can we now?" I said.
"Fuck, yes."
I knelt up and took my cock in hand, stroking it to cover it in Jell and swallowing as it warmed up and tingled slightly, I moved forward.
"Lower," I said, pushing down on his arse with my other hand, when I realised I couldn't reach. "Freakishly long legged freak."
"Midget," he complained, shifting his knees apart to lower his arse.
I huffed and positioned the head of my cock at his entrance, pushing forward with my hips and sliding away, between his slippery cheeks. I tried again. And again, with my thumb pressed to the head.
"Missed," he said.
"Fuck off," I protested. "It's harder than it looks."
"Promises, promises."
"It's that sneaky Jeannie," I said. "Lulling me into a false sense of lubrication; she's inside you and wants you for herself."
"Stop whinging and do it," Ron ordered.
"Yes, sir," I said, leaning over him so I could angle my cock down a bit more. Finally I managed to breach his entrance and I quickly made the most of it, pressing forward until the head was swallowed up.
"God," he gasped. "Fuck, Harry."
"Good god fuck, Harry or bad god fuck, Harry?" I asked, my thighs trembling as I resisted the urge to thrust.
"Tight god fuck, Harry," he muttered. "Go slowly, yeah?"
"'Course," I said comfortingly, both hands moving to cup his arse as I inched slowly in. I blessed the Wizarding World and Partnerships and Neville and Jeannie as I slid into his smooth heat, until my balls were pressed against his.
"Oh, God," I groaned, my hands sliding 'round his waist as I leant down to press a kiss to the back of his neck. "Oh, Ron, this just…"
"Yeah," he moaned. "You're… yeah…"
Still holding him tightly, I pulled back a couple of inches and thrust awkwardly back inside. He swore, his knees and elbows sliding against the bedsheets as he sprawled flat on the bed, taking me down, with him.
I yelped, angling my hips to stop sliding out of him.
"Midget," he murmured. "Now you can reach."
"Bastard," I muttered, digging toes and knees into the mattress as I flexed, driving into him with short strokes, my face pressed between his shoulder blades.
He gasped on each stroke and I hoped it was with pleasure as sparks started flashing behind my closed eyelids and I opened my mouth to lap at the sweat prickling down his spine and thrust harder once, twice and came with my cry muffled by his skin.
I froze, pulse after pulse spurting inside him as he clenched his muscles, milking it out of me, tightening to the point of pain.
"Ron," I croaked, tugging my hands out from under him and running them blindly up his arms until I found his hands, covering them with my own and interlacing our fingers; Ron squeezed hard and I sighed.
"Epic," I moaned.
"Three minutes." Ron laughed and I felt it from the inside and I'd always loved Ron's laugh and I was inside it.
"Conveniently pocket sized epic," I croaked firmly.
"Midget," he said fondly.
I wriggled backwards, my softening cock sliding out of him, and curled up beside him, one leg thrown over his, my hand resting on his arse before dipping irresistibly and rather territorially between his cheeks and fingering him gently. A fingertip slid easily into his loosened hole and I felt my come coat my finger.
Ron turned his head to face me and smiled; his eyes soft, his lips very red.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked.
He tightened around my finger and winced slightly; I frowned, and waited for him to relax before letting my finger slide slowly out.
"Ron?"
"A bit," he admitted, turning onto his side and brushing my hair back off my face. "At first. But it was good pain."
"There's no such thing," I said sadly, moving into his arms and kissing him softly.
"'Course there is," he said. "Don't you ever laugh so much it hurts? But it feels good."
"Hmmm," I said. "But…"
"Harry," he interrupted. "You have no idea how long I've waited to feel you inside me, and it was too short and it was too hard and it was brilliant."
I looked into his completely sincere face.
"All day," I said, feeling my sex flushed face heat up further. "Whoever I was talking to, however weird it got, the thought of being inside you made me feel… safe."
"I want to keep you safe," he murmured, kissing me. "I'll always keep you safe."
I let my eyes drop closed as his tongue slid between my lips and explored my mouth gently. Something had changed, deep inside me; he'd always made me feel wanted, but now I felt owned. We lay and kissed for some time, my hand on his hip, one of his coming up to cup my face. I didn't notice him rolling me onto my back until he leant over me, one leg slipping between mine, his cock pressed against my thigh.
"Harry," he moaned. "There's… one more… I mean, we don't have to do it now. But I… oh, I…"
I opened my eyes and looked up at him; his eyes were dark and serious, his expression nervous, his cock very hard and trapped between our bodies.
"I'll be careful," he said.
"I want you to."
"Are you sure?"
"I want you to feel what I did," I said. "I want to make you feel it, and I want our Magics to know what we've done."
"D'you… feel it, yet?" he asked.
"I…" I paused and concentrated on the ache I'd felt earlier. "I feel closer to you than ever before; I feel my Magic focussed on you, reaching for you."
He smiled and laughed breathlessly.
"I want that," he said, dipping his head to kiss me. "Oh, Harry, I…"
"I told you," I said, my hands cupping his face to hold him in the kiss. "I want you to. I need you to."
He grinned like a lunatic, dropping messy kisses on my chin, mouth, nose and scar.
"Careful," he said, coming up on hands and knees and pressing more random kisses on my chest and stomach as he crawled backwards. "I promise."
I spread my legs, my feet planted firmly on the bed as he bypassed my sticky come and lube and arse covered cock and settled on his belly between my thighs. My cock twitched at the thought of a Tergeo and a blowjob, but it was Ron's turn. And, if his turn included him sucking on my balls, I'd be a happy man. I felt his hot breath between my legs and whimpered as his tongue touched me. He seemed to test the weight of my balls, lifting them on his tongue and letting them fall. I gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking to just this side of pain.
Then out the other side.
"Ow," I protested, flinching.
"Sorry," he muttered.
He moved lower, his tongue reaching between my cheeks and flicking at my hole.
"Fuck," I moaned, surprised and completely won over by how good it felt. Filthy and intimate and so wrong and fantastic and how was I supposed to not stare at Ron's mouth all day and every day, when I knew where it had been. "Shall I roll over?"
"No," he said, looking up at me, between my thighs." Um. Roll up."
"Up?" I asked, a small part of my brain running 'round in circles and I peered short sightedly down at him and he made eye contact across my cock and licked me again. "Where's up?"
He huffed, his hot breath feeling amazing against my damp skin, and pushed on the backs of my thighs, lifting my arse off the bed. I grabbed the backs of my knees, pulling them hard against my chest and blushing as I opened myself up for him.
"Up like a woodlouse," I said. "You should have said."
"I'm probably crap at romantic stuff," he said indignantly, "but even I am not gonna ask someone to roll up like a woodlouse, in bed!"
He held my arse cheeks in his large hands, his thumbs stroking me gently, but not pressing inside.
"Inside," I whispered.
He moaned and lowered his head, slowly licking, again and again, the length of my crack. A great, lazy, shaggy maned lion, all that power curled up between my legs, lapping at my hole, twisting his tongue and purring as the tip slid inside me. I clenched involuntarily, amazed at the number of nerve ends he'd reached. What was the point of having that many sparking nerve endings, if my arse wasn't made for his tongue? I pulled back harder on my legs, groaning as his tongue thrust into me.
"Fuck," I croaked.
"Soon," he said, reaching for the jar.
Jeannie's Jell slid between my cheeks, warming instantly and tingling as Ron's slicked finger pressed inside me. It barely stretched me.
"More," I moaned.
"Patience Potter," he sad, fucking me slowly with one finger and making my eyes roll back in my head when he added an unexpected second finger, on one stroke. I made what would have been an embarrassing noise in any other circumstances, with any other person, and Ron hummed happily.
"Good boy," he murmured. "Nearly there."
"Now," I said, never surer of anything in my life. "Please."
Ron knelt up, one hand on the back of my thigh, one slicking his erection with more jell. He gave me a serious look.
"You tell me straight away if it hurts," he said, shuffling forwards and pressing his cock between my cheeks.
It felt really rather large and I bit my lip and huffed through flaring nostrils as I tried to relax. Ron frowned and his eyes flickered between my face and my arse as he held his cock firmly in place and moved forward; I flinched as it breached my body and he froze.
"Fuck," I gasped.
"Too much?" he asked, worried eyes meeting mine as he leant over me and braced himself to pull out.
"Wait," I said, grabbing the hand splayed on my thigh and breathing hard. "Out will be the same… go in a bit further."
He looked doubtful, but inched forwards and the pressure eased as he was lodged firmly inside me. Inside me. Fuck. I nodded and he huffed and rocked back and forth the tiniest bit, loosening me on every miniscule stroke.
"Yeah," I said. "Clever."
"'Course," he said modestly, grinning at me and then biting his lip as he thrust deeper.
When he was finally fully inside my body, filling me, his balls heavy against my arse, my thighs protesting as six foot two of freckled Weasley held them wide apart, he stilled and looked down at me.
I have never felt anything like it, except when walking to my death, and I wasn't gonna spoil the moment and tell Ron that.
Loved.
His eyes shone and his breath hitched and cords stood out on his neck and he started to move, muscles moving in his shoulders and chest and stomach as he thrust into me and he was beautiful.
My best mate was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
He wasn't a glimpse of bra strap, or a skirt flipping up as a girl ran up the stairs. He wasn't a tight sweater or laces on a girl's Quidditch uniform.
He was flushed and dripping sweat onto my face and biting my lip as he reached for a kiss and wild eyed and crying out and thrusting harder and throwing back his head as he came and I felt it.
My Magic reached out for his and they touched and clung.
As Ron came inside me, his whole body shaking before curling over me and resting on my chest, I felt him in every part of me. And I felt so sorry for my parents, for his, for everyone who hadn't been with someone, like this. For everyone who muddled through with a series of Secondaries who left them to get married.
For Lee who'd walk away from this, for George's sake.
I wrapped my arms tightly around him as his cock slipped free and my protesting thighs fell to the bed; Ron's hand came up and tangled in my hair as he buried his face in the crook of my neck and covered my body with his; his heavy, sweaty, fantastic body.
"Harry," he whispered.
I kissed the top of his head as he trembled and his Magic had poured into me at the same moment he'd climaxed and he was overcome and I felt a twinge of jealousy until realising that I had done this to him.
Finally, he raised his head and looked down at me and his expression took my breath away; his mouth descended on mine and he kissed me like he wanted to devour me and I let him.
"Harry," he said inadequately, throwing himself down beside me and gathering me up in his arms, but I knew exactly what he meant.
I rested my head on his chest, one leg hooked over his, my fingers playing on his belly, my Magic tangled with his and humming happily inside me.
"Y'know what?" I said casually. "Bill said sometimes it's so… intense, that Partners stay together."
"Mmmm," he murmured into my hair, his hand splayed on my lower back, the tips of his fingers kneading my arse. "I can see that happening; no reason that we couldn't share a whitewashed cottage, one day, when we're all old and stuff."
So he was pretty good at the romantic stuff, after all, the sap.
"Best thing about living in a cottage is you totally use the rear entrance," I pointed out, yawning.
He gave a filthy laugh and kissed the top of my head.
"We'll keep chickens," he said sleepily, pulling me closer. "It'll always be great to be woken by a cock at the back door."
FROM: shocolate
TITLE: Five Is An Odd Number (2/2)
RATING: NC-17
WORDS: 17,482
SUMMARY: Why isn't there a book of all the ridiculous things that you just don't find out, being dragged up by Muggles?
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter and Ron Weasley portrayed within are fictional and of age and can fondle and probe whatever they want to; they do not belong to me, they just make my life worth living.
GENRE: Romance, Humour
WARNINGS: Mentions of various canon and as-canon-as-Harry/Ron pairings, which means het pairings, obviously. Also, oodles of rimming.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My sweet, you asked for such, such loveliness, and I had a ball writing for you… even if it ended up being just a little bit… strange… but the Wizarding World is a very strange place… So many thanks to my M&M for the beta.
Five Is An Odd Number (2/2)
~~~*~~~
I tracked Hermione down to the kitchen, where she was eating chocolate biscuits and reading a pile of parchment that probably weighed as much as she did.
"A little light reading?" I asked, sitting beside her.
"Ha ha," she said. "Where'd'you get to? Ron got back a couple of hours ago."
"Neville," I said vaguely. "Where's Ron? Is he okay? Did he say anything?"
"Upstairs, I think so, no," she answered. "What's wrong?"
"Something Neville said," I said, wondering how on earth I was going to start this conversation.
"Neville upset him?" she demanded. "That really doesn't sound very likely."
"No," I said. "Neville didn't upset him; I upset him."
"That sounds more like it," she said dryly.
"Hey," I protested. "It wasn't my fault. They were both discussing some Wizarding thing I'd ever heard of, and I put my foot in it… it wasn't my fault."
"Hmmm," she said. "Fair enough. What were they discussing?"
"Something that… it… you… it affects you, Hermione, so I had to talk to you, before I make amends with Ron."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Right," I said. "Have you ever heard about being… Partners, and… Magical Cores and… stuff?"
"Of course," she said. "I've been discussing the traditional preventatives with Madam Pomfrey, because there is some recent research, in the latest literature, that seems to indicate it won't be as effective with those of us turning nineteen, during this school year. She wants to stick to what she knows, won't consider any Partnerships while we're still at school, particularly with anyone under eighteen."
I sat and gaped at her, trying very hard not to picture the… remedy she was suggesting, but it's really hard not to picture her and Ginny… touching each other, once someone's mentioned it.
"Oh my god," she said, studying my gormless expression. "You hadn't heard about it."
I shook my head, slowly, not wanting to jostle the imaginary naked Ginny, who was sitting astride the imaginary naked Hermione and grinding down against her.
"What did Neville say?" she asked gently.
"He wanted to know if you were leaving school," I said weakly. "He hoped you and Ron were getting married, and he… offered for me."
"Oh, how sweet," she said, "poor Neville."
"Poor Harry," I protested. "The first I hear of my arse belonging to Ron is when Neville puts his… bid in."
She tutted.
"You've always been Ron's," she pointed out.
"But not like this," I said.
"Yes, like this," she argued. "You just didn't know it."
I grunted.
"So, what happened?" she asked.
"Ron realised I'd never known and got all flustered, and left." I sighed. "And Neville explained it all to me; he was so matter of fact about it all - said he'd always known five was an odd number."
"I suppose someone should check that Dean knows," she mused. "He's Muggleborn and missed his seventh year classes. I can imagine Seamus just assuming he knows and blundering in."
I tried not to imagine the 'in', but I'd been picturing almost every bloke I know being buggered, all day, and couldn't help picture Dean's long legs hooked over Seamus's shoulders.
"Don't worry about Dean," I muttered. "Dean knows. Anyway. I went to talk to Bill about it, because Neville only knew the theory…"
"What a good idea," she said happily. "He did wonders for Remus."
"How d'you know about that?" I demanded.
"Tonks told me," she said.
"Oh god," I moaned, burying my head in my hands. "Tonks told you she was with Fleur, that Bill took care of Remus… that Remus and Sirius?"
"Oh, Harry," she said, resting a cool hand on the back of my neck. "This is my fault; I should have realised that no one had told you."
"And you're okay with all this?" I asked, looking up at her sympathetic face.
"With Bill having helped heal Remus?" she asked.
I waved that away.
"With… being with Ginny," I muttered.
"Ginny and I have talked about it," she said. "She's thrilled that I'm going back to school, that I won't be Partnered by the time she's ready."
"But you can't be … thrilled," I protested.
"Is there something wrong with Ginny?" she asked.
"No," I said, "just that you're Muggleborn and never expected to have to… sleep with a woman, or marry too young."
"Don't you feel it?" she asked.
"What?" I asked warily, trying not to picture Ginny's bits.
"Your Magic," she said. "It's like an… ache. I know it needs something, and no, I don't intend to get married and pregnant at eighteen, so the thought of Ginny … soothing the ache… keeping me safe…"
She flushed.
"Wow," I said. "That's… But what about…"
"What about what?" she prompted.
"Me and Ron," I said in a small voice. "He's yours; what d'you think of me and Ron?"
"Oh, Harry," she said, throwing her arms around me and smothering me with hair. "Is that what you're worrying about?"
I nodded, somewhere deep in her hair.
She sat back, holding me at arms length and shook me.
"Maybe one day Ron will be mine like that," she said. "But I'm not jumping the gun by five or six years, just to protect my Core. The thought that you and Ron will be Partners, will be taking care of each other, that that added bond will help keep you both safe, at work. Such a weight off my mind, and that Bond has always been there, anyway, hasn't it? I could not possibly feel I was leaving him in safer hands."
She beamed at me.
"Safe," I said. "It sounds crazy, but that's what I've been thinking all day. How I'll be safe."
She nodded encouragingly.
"Is… is that my Magic, or me?" I asked. "Which one needs him?"
"It's the same thing," she said firmly. "You need him. And you need to tell him. He must be up there, worrying you feel… violated. Harry, you have to go to him. It's time."
"With you downstairs?" I asked.
She leant closer and kissed me on the cheek.
"I'm taking this up to the school," she said, gathering up her papers. "I'm going to convince Madam Pomfrey to let Ginny Partner at seventeen."
"Good luck," I said.
"And you," she said.
She strode purposefully to the fire and Flooed away, leaving me to… seduce her boyfriend.
I'd never seduced anyone; I wouldn't know where to begin. Well, I could probably walk into the Three Broomsticks and flash my scar, offer to buy some young… woman a drink. But what comes next?
Wanna come back to my place and see my sword?
And getting someone drunk enough to assume you're gonna shag them is not the point, anyway.
The point is that my Ron was somewhere upstairs, convinced I wasn't interested in… buggering him, when nothing could be further from the truth. Every word that Neville, Bill, Ginny, George, Lee, Dean and Hermione had said had shown me that I - and my Magic - needed Ron like the air I breathed.
Which should be easy enough to put into words, while he gibbered and apologised for having any unwelcome intentions towards my arse.
I sighed and set off, upstairs, looking for my Partner.
Which should have been easy; it's a big house, but not that big. Ron wasn't in his room, or my room, or the drawing room, and I'd walked up and down the stairs twice before thinking of looking in Hermione's room. He was in there, sitting on the floor, leaning up against her wardrobe, with what looked horribly like a pair of her knickers in his hands.
I'd meant to say something wonderful about taking care of each other and how safe I felt around him, but he was fondling Hermione's knickers and it came out wrong.
"You could marry her, before she goes back to school," I said abruptly.
Ron tilted his face up, his tired eyes meeting mine, his fingers tangling in Hermione's underwear.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
"You should have got married last year, you bloody idiots, turning eighteen and suffering just to follow me."
He nodded and looked down at the floor.
"Thought it would be worth it," he muttered. "The right thing and all that. Not as if we could have got married, anyway, in that fucking tent. Not as if you and me could have… not with the three of us, sharing… and that's why I thought we never mentioned it. And I'm sorry. But married sounds good. Then we can forget this ever happened."
"What?" I spluttered. "You 'forget' a drunken snog, not a… this. It's out there. I know about Partners, now, and I'm not going to forget that you wanted to. And I should know; it's kinda important."
"But you don't have to do it," he said. "You can… persuade Ginny to leave school and get married, or something."
"To protect me from your advances?"
"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "What else can I say? I'm sorry I… thought of you like that."
"That's not what you should be sorry for," I protested.
"And… damaging Hermione by not marrying her, yet," he said, adlibbing wildly. "And letting her go back to school… and not warning Neville off…"
"Not telling me," I interrupted.
"It's obviously not something you want to be told," he said petulantly. "You didn't exactly run after me and say everything was… that we were…"
"Oh, Ron," I said, sitting down beside him and trying to pick my words carefully. "If I'd run straight after you, we'd have had a huge row, in the street - and in the papers."
"Because it's just that bad an idea," he said. "I get the message."
"Because it was a brand new idea, you idiot," I said. "Because I needed to find out more about what was involved, first."
"So you went to the library?" he asked. "You know, if I'd wanted to marry Hermione straight away…"
He sighed and wound her knickers round his fist.
"I didn't go to the library. I asked a couple of people how things worked… I didn’t understand what happens…and if you Part… and there's Secondaries… and if Ginny actually was okay with me and you being… and how complicated it all gets… a serious decision… as serious as getting married… and you're gonna be an uncle."
"What?" he demanded, turning a pale, stricken face on me.
"What?"
"You and Ginny… what?"
"Me and Ginny what, what?"
"Are having a baby?"
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" I spluttered. "Unless in the Wizarding World you get a girl pregnant by thinking about fucking her brother, which would not surprise me, after the information overload I've had today!"
"You said I'm gonna be an uncle," he said, jabbing me in the chest through the crotch of Hermione's knickers.
"It's Angelina," I shouted.
"What is?"
"Who's pregnant, you imbecile."
"How could you possibly know that?" he scoffed. "You didn't even know they were together."
"Because I went to see George," I said.
"What?" he squeaked.
Things weren't going quite as smoothly or seductively as I'd hoped.
"As if George needs more ammunition to mock me," he complained. "You and me's the only thing I've done to make him proud of me, and now you've gone and whined at him, about me thinking of you like that. My one thing."
"So, that's how it went," I said, trying hard not to lose patience with him, when this was supposed to be my big seduction scene. "I went and bitched at George about you looking at me in the showers."
His neck flushed pink and he shrugged a petulant shoulder.
"And I s'pose he was so keen to have me in the family, rather than you, that he asked me to marry Angelina," I went on, watching his miserable face and wondering how far I should push him. "Any woman's bits being more appealing to me than my favourite person in the whole fucking world. And you can… well, you can crawl to Neville. Who cares?"
He set his jaw and stared down at his hands, pleating the knickers between nervous fingers. What was I supposed to do to get those fingers interested in… what he'd apparently been interested in for years.
My arse clenched at the thought, but not in a bad way, and I moved closer.
"Sorry," he muttered. "What did George have to say, then?"
"I asked him about partnering with his best mate, actually," I said and he peeped at me though his fringe. "He and Lee are so close, so devoted, that Lee had to talk him into Parting and marrying Angelina if you must know, and I thought it was… wonderful. Helped me see that that was what you could see."
"See… for us?" he asked.
"Of course for… yes, Ron, for us," I confirmed. "I'm sorry I never knew, before. Can we… start again?"
He spread the knickers out, on his thigh, smoothing them down and running a fingertip round the… groinal area, as if he was fingering Hermione.
"What's with the knickers, anyway?" I asked, when the silence and the proxy molestation of my proxy sister got too loud.
"Trying to… adjust," he muttered.
"Adjust her… bits?" I asked tentatively.
"No," he snorted. "Adjust my brain. Get rid of all the plans for your underwear and focus on the frillies I wasn't expecting for nine or ten years. Trying to picture myself touching her, wondering what it feels like."
"You never pictured her bits, before?" I asked, dreading the answer, either way.
"Only in a… whitewashed cottage way," he explained, inadequately.
"I apologise, in advance, for them being your sister's bits," I said," but I've dreamt of and touched a girl's bits, and there is nothing whitewashed, or cottagelike about them."
"Not that I think Hermione whitewashes her area," he spluttered, pointing at the paintfree crotch of the knickers he was still absently fondling. "Just that… look, we've moved out of the Burrow, yeah?"
"Yeah," I said, wondering where he was going with this.
"And we've… well, you've confused my metaphor by owning this fucking… mansion," he complained. "But I used to think we'd leave school and get a really cool flat together, and we'd work hard and play hard and… do all the things we'd ever dreamt of, and then, years down the line, I reckoned I'd probably marry Hermione and we'd find a little whitewashed stone cottage, just down the coast from you and Ginny, and live happily ever after."
"And…" I prompted.
"And Hermione's bits are like a cottage, in that I don't see myself in one, any time soon, and I don't have any strong opinions about the… colour of the curtains," I bit my lip, to stop the snort of laughter that would have interrupted his earnest explanation. "But I've given a lot of thought to how we'd… decorate our flat. And picturing myself… in there."
"Using the rear entrance," I suggested and he glared at me.
"Look, I expected to die," I said. "I really never thought a… cottage with red roses around the door was in my future, at all - whether that meant Ginny's pubes or yours."
He frowned.
"But now I've been… handed the keys to a brilliant place, with an unexpectedly handy rear entrance and… noble pillars, erected out front… and I'm running out of metaphor, here, Ron."
"S'cos you're rubbish at it," he said, his lips twitching.
"But it feels like home," I said plainly. "I never thought I was a… pillars sort of bloke, but when you're home, you just know it."
He examined my face, closely, before drying his sweaty palms on Hermione's much abused knickers and dropping them.
"So," he said, wetting his lips, nervously. "You'll think about it?"
"I don't have to," I said. "I've been thinking of nothing else, all day. I'm that bit younger than you, so I don't s'pose it feels as bad, yet, but it's there, now I look for it; an ache, something in my Magic, pulling me towards you."
He half reached for me, an 'oh my god, I haven't ruined everything' smile elbowing its way onto his face, and I held out my hand.
He grabbed it, his fingers tightening and digging into mine.
"Oh, Harry," he breathed. "I thought I'd fucked everything up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, arse, bollocks."
He laughed, shakily, and I tugged on his hand, pulling him closer until he buried his face in my neck. I put my arm around his shoulders as he leant against me.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he continued to mutter, into my skin, making me shiver and causing my cock to take a keen interest.
"Yes please," I said.
He froze.
"Harry?"
"How does it work?" I asked. "Do we both have to…" I made a penetrative gesture with two fingers and his eyes opened wide.
"Don't reckon so," he said. "Or what would girls do? You're just supposed to do… enough… stuff and you'll… feel it."
"Is there something we have to… do, first?" I asked.
"I was waiting for you to tell me it was time," he murmured. "You being…"
"No Chosen One crap," I protested.
"You being so fucking spectacular," he said indignantly, pulling back far enough to glare at me. "And so… recently dead, and everything."
"Then… it's time," I said simply.
I stood up and held out my hand, to help him to his feet.
"But I don't just want this," he said. "I really want this and you…"
I'd had enough of talking about our feelings; I kissed him.
It was awful.
He was still babbling and declaring his undying something; he was far too tall and the angle was all wrong and I'd never tipped my head back to kiss someone, before; he didn't kiss me back.
"No one mentioned kissing," I said weakly, taking a step backwards. "Don't tell me: no kissing."
"You took me by surprise," he protested, catching my sleeve and pulling me against him. "I'll show you kissing."
I laughed with relief as his arms went round me, one round my waist, one hand sliding into my hair as I automatically pressed back into it, my face tipping up as he bent and covered my lips with his.
It was fantastic.
Ron's arms were strong and his mouth was hot and he teased and nipped and devoured mine and my arms went up around his neck as I stood on tiptoe to press closer. Finally, he broke away, leaving my tongue reaching for his.
"Didn't think our first kiss would be in Hermione's bedroom," he murmured.
"Serves her right," I said, grinning stupidly up at him. "I can see why no none else ever got 'round to mentioning the Partner thing, but how did Hermione never say 'just wait until you kiss him'?"
He laughed and I bit my lip and let my hands smooth over his shoulders and down his chest and I reached for his shirt buttons. His hands covered mine and stopped me and my Magic throbbed and I was surprise how much I didn't want to stop.
"No more," he said, "not here."
I actually growled and he caught my hand and dragged me from the room, cornering so sharply as he dashed along the landing that I stumbled against the banisters.
"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, plunging down the stairs with me bobbing in his wake, towards our bedrooms. I laughed at his flattering haste, before ploughing into him, from behind, as he stopped at the bottom of the flight.
"Ron?" I said.
He dropped my hand and turned round.
"Whose room?" he asked, a flush on his cheekbones. "Or maybe we should… well, I wasn't expecting… shower?"
But I wasn't listening.
Standing on the step above him put us eye to eye and I threw my arms round his neck and kissed him.
"Oh," he gasped between kisses. "Here, then."
His large hands ran down my back and settled on my arse, pulling me against him. Hard. Standing on the step above him put us cock to cock and I moaned as they pressed against each other.
"I love these stairs," I muttered.
"I don't want to share a flat, anymore," he said, his eyes going out of focus as we rocked. "Stairs are good."
I think he moved to put one thigh between mine, but I chose that moment to be ridiculous and try and jump and wrap my legs around his waist and he couldn't support my weight and stumbled forwards, his hands leaving my arse and reaching behind me, as we fell.
"Fuck," he protested as his hands and knees hit the stairs.
"S'okay," I said, ignoring the pain in my back and buttocks as he settled between my spread legs. "Stairs good."
He looked down at me, his all too familiar 'you're insane' look melting into something so… hot, I thought he was going to bite me.
Bracing one hand on the step above my head, he rocked back on his knees and surged against me.
"Stairs very good," he confirmed, as he flexed and rubbed our cocks together. "Gonna get a flight of stairs tattooed somewhere."
"Don't need to," I moaned, reaching between us and unbuttoning and unzipping our jeans. "Got them imprinted on my arse."
His breath hitched as he came up onto his knees just far enough to look down and watch me push his jeans and boxers over the curve of his arse and free his rather impressive erection. All jokes about the size of his feet dried in my throat as I managed to push my briefs down far enough to bare myself for him and he moaned and collapsed on top of me, pressing his cock against mine and making me whimper.
I automatically wrapped my hand round them both and gazed up at him as he thrust into the circle of my fingers. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them and I reached up with my free hand to pull his face down to mine.
"Fuck s'good," he moaned into my mouth.
"S'the stairs," I hissed. "I love these stairs."
His laugh turned to a stream of swear words and a look of pained amazement as I squeezed our cocks together and he came all over my fingers.
"Fuck, Harry," he whispered into my neck, collapsing onto knees and elbows and breathing heavily. "HarryHarryHarry."
I slid my spunk free hand into his long red hair and rubbed circles on his scalp while he recovered.
He knelt up, his cock sliding through my fingers, leaving me with stains on my jeans and holding my own protesting erection.
"Fuck," he repeated.
I gestured at my groin.
"C'mon," he said, grimacing as he pulled up his jeans and tucked himself away. "Let's make it to the bedroom, this time."
"What about me?" I protested.
"Bedroom; anything you want," he promised.
I grumbled to my feet and wiped my hand on my briefs; leaving my jeans unzipped, I followed him towards my bedroom, watching his arse flexing and wondering just what anything I wanted.
"I really need a shower," he said, pausing in the doorway. "I feel a bit grubby."
"Well, someone just came on me," I pointed out.
"We could…" he waggled his eyebrows, staring at my still noticeable bulge.
"Are you suggesting we shower together, before we're Partnered?" I protested.
"Yes."
"But are we Partnered, yet?" I asked. "Do you feel any different?"
"I feel good," he said. "But I don't think we're there, yet. D'you feel different?"
"I feel like someone just came on me."
He rolled his eyes, doubled back down the landing, towards the bathroom, snatching a kiss as he passed me. By the time I shook myself and followed him, he'd started the clanking shower into life, shed his jeans and trainers and was unbuttoning his shirt.
"Just like that?" I asked, watching the shirt join the jeans on the bathroom floor.
"I've undressed in front of you, before," he said, testing the water temperature.
"But not for me," I pointed out. "Aren't you nervous?"
"I'm feeling pretty mellow, actually," he said dropping his boxers and kicking them and his socks away. "I just came."
He tried to look all suave, or something, but his blush gave him away.
"Take something off, Harry," he said. "I'm naked, here."
"Right," I said, pressing my hand against my still semi interested cock. "I, um."
He bravely stepped closer and I automatically reached up for a kiss.
"Good boy," he murmured, distracting me with his tongue as he helped me undress. He knelt at my feet, to undo my trainers, as I dragged my shirt over my head, and my cock strained towards him. He looked up and saw it pointed straight at him and gulped.
"Shower," he squeaked and scrambled to his feet.
I finished undressing, dropped my glasses onto my pile of clothes and we both stepped over the edge of the antique bath; I watched the water splashing down on him, darkening his hair and running down his neck, streams crisscrossing over the old scars on his arms and shoulders, clinging to the hair on his chest and belly, running down his legs. He was still tall and skinny but the muscles in his arms flexed as he reached for the soap and I stopped his hand and took it from him.
"What?" he said, blinking water away and shaking his head.
"Wet suits you," I said, licking my lips.
"Really?" he asked, looking down his body, as the droplets played dot to dot with his freckles. "You think so?"
"I really completely do," I said, soaping my hands and stepping closer.
I know he was watching me, but I didn't look up, just concentrated on my task. Running my hands over his shoulders, following the pale scars down his arms, realising I'd always wanted to touch them, leaning in to kiss his upper arm, where he'd splinched himself.
"Oh," he gasped.
I glanced up, quickly, but he was watching my hands as they came together on his chest and moved downwards.
"Thought it was whatever you wanted, next?" he murmured, parting his legs as my slippery fingers bypassed his cock and slid between them.
"I want you nice and clean," I said, kneeling to continue down his legs.
"So you can dirty me up again," he scoffed.
I looked up, and up and met his eyes and nodded, slowly and deliberately, and tried to look all sexy, but his face split with a delighted boyish grin and I huffed and grabbed his thighs and tugged, to turn him around.
He obediently rotated on the spot, leaving me face to arse with something that pulled at either my Magic or my general teenage horniness, because I bit it.
Ron jumped, but didn't seem to mind, so I spent a couple of minutes slowly soaping his arse, swirling the bubbles around on his cheeks, admiring the way his skin paled and then pinked when I dug my fingers in.
He took a shaky step away from me and I almost protested, but he turned the shower down to a trickle and rested his folded arms on the tiled wall, letting his head droop over them, small rivulets of water still hitting his shoulders and running down his back.
I watched a droplet of water follow his spine, before dribbling between his cheeks and I leant forward and stopped it with the tip of my tongue.
"Fuck," Ron muttered.
I didn't want to say Dean said it's all tongues up arses, so I kept my mouth busy by sliding my tongue deeper down his crack and making him whimper and push back against me. He spread his legs as far apart as the sides of the old fashioned bath allowed and arched his back and I smiled and turned my hands, holding his cheeks apart and watching the water splash down between them. It was an unbelievably erotic sight and I soon found myself hypnotising both of us by running my thumb in circles around his entrance.
"Can I?" I asked, my voice cracking and I took his groaned reply for a yes and lowered my head.
My tongue touched his delicate skin and he moaned something unintelligible. Assuming he would have stopped me by now if it was as dreadful as the words tongues up arses implied, I carried on, lapping up water drops and burying my face between his cheeks.
I had no idea how I'd gone so swiftly from never thinking of him like that to trying to press my tongue inside him, but he was making amazing keening noises and I couldn't believe that something as simple as my tongue could have him shaking and gasping.
By stretching him slightly with a fingertip, first, I managed to push deeper with my tongue and he abruptly fell to his knees, his hands scrabbling at the taps.
"Have to get you clean," he babbled. "This is the last possible moment that I can stop and let you shower, without dying."
"What?" I said, blinking away water and tasting him on my tongue.
"Point of no return," he muttered, picking up the soap and frantically running it over my chest and belly. "Trying so hard not to beg you to fuck me, in case you stop and calmly point out you haven't showered yet, you tricky bastard."
He soaped his hands thoroughly and briskly washed my aching cock, without seeming to realise what he was doing to me. I watched his gorgeous long fingers cup my balls and slip between my legs, before gasping and looking up at his face as they slid between my cheeks and carefully lathered and probed.
"Oh," I gasped, as his soapy finger slid inside me. "Oh, Ron."
"See?" he said wildly, pulling me close with his other hand and kissing me. "Too good to stop, right?"
I nodded slowly, automatically bearing down on his finger and making him swear loudly.
"Ah, how'm I s'posed to choose, now?" he complained, staring at my face. "My cunning plan was to get you clean as quick as possible, so you could go back to what you were doing, but look at you."
I laughed shakily, before rising up on my knees and pressing down onto his hand, again. He groaned and pulled me clumsily onto his lap and I buried my face in his neck and listened to the water thundering down on our heads as he held me tight and slowly fucked me with his finger. My own hand fell to my cock and I tugged hard, matching the slight pain as he stretched me and I leant into the kisses he was pressing into my hair.
"I want," I moaned.
"What d'you want?" he asked.
"Want," I repeated desperately, my hand speeding up on my shaft as Ron slid a second soapy finger inside me.
"Anything," he said. "Anything."
I gasped and clung to him, my climax surging through me, my come splattering our bodies and being washed away, my muscles tightening around his fingers.
When my breathing returned to normal, I was curled up in his arms and the water was turning cold. I looked up at him and he smiled at me and touched my face.
"Never seen anything like it," he said.
"Never felt anything like it," I moaned.
He reached behind him and turned the shower off.
"Bed?" he asked.
"I don't think my legs work," I said, trying to untangle myself.
"Good," he said smugly.
"Fuck off," I complained. "I don't want you thinking I'm some lightweight."
"I think you're fantastic," he said simply.
"Fuck off," I repeated, trying hard not to grin like an idiot.
"Bed?" he asked again.
"Bed," I confirmed.
"D'you have anything… lubricantlike?" he asked stepping over the side of the bath.
"Uh, no," I admitted, peering short sightedly round the bathroom and not finding anything slipperier than what looked like shampoo.
"Then mine," he said firmly.
"Your what?" I asked, stooping to pick up my glasses and putting them on to admire his arse as I followed him down the landing.
"My room," he said.
"You have lubricant?" I asked, stopping in his doorway and watching him frantically throwing dirty clothes into the corner and straightening the old sheets on his bed.
"I was waiting for you to say something, wasn't I?" he said pointedly, opening a drawer in his bedside table and holding out a jar of Jeannie's Jell, a bottle of Orifice Oil and a tube of Maximarse Moistener.
"Wow," I said, crossing over to the bed and unscrewing the lid of the jar. "Be prepared!"
He shrugged one shoulder and muscles moved in his chest and I shivered at the thought of what we were about to do.
"I didn't know what you'd like best," he said. "But I'd've wanted something a little less manky than my three day old sheets."
"My room's no better," I pointed out. "I think that may be the best bit about Partnering."
"I bloody well hope not," Ron said, leaping onto the bed.
I stuck two fingers in the jell and scooped some out, testing it between my fingertips.
"What d'you…"
"Turn over," I interrupted. "I was busy doing something before you went mental in the shower."
"If you call it mental when I stick something… you know, we're gonna have a problem," he said, obediently rolling over and burying his face in scarred forearms. The pink flush to the back of his neck and the inability to say 'arse' showed he felt as embarrassed as me, so I knelt and kissed the tip of an ear that was visibly through his damp hair.
"Whatever I want; you promised," I reminded him.
"Yeah," he murmured, visibly relaxing and letting his legs casually part.
I ran my thumb the length of his spine, before letting my jell covered fingers take the lead, down the crack of his arse. He made a happy noise, so I lingered, petting him and separating his cheeks as I got closer to his hole. It really didn't look very big, and the tip of my tongue had barely breached it and I was feeling out of my depth and my finger slipped inside and I was feeling in his depth and he moaned and pushed back at me.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I blurted out.
Ron stopped writhing under my hand and lifted his head.
"What?" he asked weakly. "You're changing your mind?"
"No!" I assured him. "No, I just… I don't know what I'm doing… next."
He nodded and swallowed and his muscles tightened around my finger.
"Just… more," he muttered. "More of that… and then more fingers… and then…"
"Right," I said, letting my finger slide out of him and reaching for the jar.
"What?" he said, looking back over his shoulder as I paused.
"No," I said. "More, yes, good."
He collapsed back onto the pillows and arched his back, not very subtly. I looked from his body, to my fingers, to the lightly shimmering jelly. Using the hand that hadn't been up somebody's arse, I scooped up some more lubricant and dribbled it between his cheeks; he moaned appreciatively and spread his legs.
"Good?" I asked, running a finger after it, and spreading it around his entrance.
"Good," he echoed. "And, um."
"And um?"
"Um… edible."
"Edible?"
"Well… safe… if you… swallowed any."
The back of his neck flushed.
"Ah," I said, watching my finger slowly pressing back inside him, up to the second knuckle. "That is good. Good for Jeannie. Very sensible. Thinks of everything, doesn't she?"
For some reason, my tongue would rather babble than return to exploring Ron's arse. And I know that that actually sounds quite reasonable, and that most people would rather babble than press their tongue inside him, even when they'd personally spent ages washing his arse, first.
But I wanted the unbelievable noised I’d dragged out of him, in the shower, and I did want to do it again; it just seemed so… deliberate to lie down between his legs and spread his cheeks.
Which was insane.
Who was gonna judge me?
Unless there was some strange reason wizards announced such things to the world, only Ron would ever know, and it was pretty clear that he wanted me to use my mouth. Wondering if there was even a word for what I was about to do, and half wishing I could ask Hermione, I took off my glasses and settled between his legs, smiling as he lifted his hips off the bed to shove a pillow under them and rubbing my cock against the bedsheets.
"Thanks," I said politely, admiring the improved view.
His balls were pushed back, between his thighs, and I leant closer and nuzzled them, carefully. Ron hummed happily and I decided that Partnering was brilliant. No, I'd never really thought about nuzzling another bloke's balls, but there was nothing scary about a scrotum. I'd made a decent attempt at petting Ginny' bits, but had no idea what I was touching, or what she'd feel she should pretend she didn't want me to do. But balls? If anyone - and, by that, I obviously mean whichever sexy redhead I was naked with, and not someone completely asexual, like Malfoy, or Hermione, or Kreacher. If anyone had got me naked and then offered to suck on my balls, well, I'd have been putty in their hands.
Realising that I could just do whatever I thought would feel good, I opened my mouth and lapped at him, before sucking one globe into my mouth and rolling it gently around with my tongue. Ron groaned and spread his legs further.
"Fuck, s'good," he muttered.
It was; it really was. He tasted fantastic and his arse was flexing as I sucked on him and I could smell a delicious spicy combination of his body and Jeannie's Jell. Wanting to literally crawl inside him, I let his sac fall from my mouth and ran my tongue up the pathway to my goal. He trembled under my mouth as I held his cheeks apart and circled him with the tip of my tongue. His low moan caught and turned into a strangled cry as I pressed inside, continuing to circle as I stretched him.
Clumsily, he rose up onto his knees and I knelt behind him, my face buried between his cheeks, lapping and probing and alternating with a finger and then two, as Ron whimpered into his pillow and pushed back against me. It was startlingly hot inside him and smooth muscles clutched at my fingers, drawing them further in as I reached for the lubricant.
"Can we?" I asked, sitting on my heels and watching him arch his back as I pressed more of Jennie's Jell inside him and spread my fingers.
"S'a bit late to ask," he gasped.
"I mean, can we now?" I said.
"Fuck, yes."
I knelt up and took my cock in hand, stroking it to cover it in Jell and swallowing as it warmed up and tingled slightly, I moved forward.
"Lower," I said, pushing down on his arse with my other hand, when I realised I couldn't reach. "Freakishly long legged freak."
"Midget," he complained, shifting his knees apart to lower his arse.
I huffed and positioned the head of my cock at his entrance, pushing forward with my hips and sliding away, between his slippery cheeks. I tried again. And again, with my thumb pressed to the head.
"Missed," he said.
"Fuck off," I protested. "It's harder than it looks."
"Promises, promises."
"It's that sneaky Jeannie," I said. "Lulling me into a false sense of lubrication; she's inside you and wants you for herself."
"Stop whinging and do it," Ron ordered.
"Yes, sir," I said, leaning over him so I could angle my cock down a bit more. Finally I managed to breach his entrance and I quickly made the most of it, pressing forward until the head was swallowed up.
"God," he gasped. "Fuck, Harry."
"Good god fuck, Harry or bad god fuck, Harry?" I asked, my thighs trembling as I resisted the urge to thrust.
"Tight god fuck, Harry," he muttered. "Go slowly, yeah?"
"'Course," I said comfortingly, both hands moving to cup his arse as I inched slowly in. I blessed the Wizarding World and Partnerships and Neville and Jeannie as I slid into his smooth heat, until my balls were pressed against his.
"Oh, God," I groaned, my hands sliding 'round his waist as I leant down to press a kiss to the back of his neck. "Oh, Ron, this just…"
"Yeah," he moaned. "You're… yeah…"
Still holding him tightly, I pulled back a couple of inches and thrust awkwardly back inside. He swore, his knees and elbows sliding against the bedsheets as he sprawled flat on the bed, taking me down, with him.
I yelped, angling my hips to stop sliding out of him.
"Midget," he murmured. "Now you can reach."
"Bastard," I muttered, digging toes and knees into the mattress as I flexed, driving into him with short strokes, my face pressed between his shoulder blades.
He gasped on each stroke and I hoped it was with pleasure as sparks started flashing behind my closed eyelids and I opened my mouth to lap at the sweat prickling down his spine and thrust harder once, twice and came with my cry muffled by his skin.
I froze, pulse after pulse spurting inside him as he clenched his muscles, milking it out of me, tightening to the point of pain.
"Ron," I croaked, tugging my hands out from under him and running them blindly up his arms until I found his hands, covering them with my own and interlacing our fingers; Ron squeezed hard and I sighed.
"Epic," I moaned.
"Three minutes." Ron laughed and I felt it from the inside and I'd always loved Ron's laugh and I was inside it.
"Conveniently pocket sized epic," I croaked firmly.
"Midget," he said fondly.
I wriggled backwards, my softening cock sliding out of him, and curled up beside him, one leg thrown over his, my hand resting on his arse before dipping irresistibly and rather territorially between his cheeks and fingering him gently. A fingertip slid easily into his loosened hole and I felt my come coat my finger.
Ron turned his head to face me and smiled; his eyes soft, his lips very red.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked.
He tightened around my finger and winced slightly; I frowned, and waited for him to relax before letting my finger slide slowly out.
"Ron?"
"A bit," he admitted, turning onto his side and brushing my hair back off my face. "At first. But it was good pain."
"There's no such thing," I said sadly, moving into his arms and kissing him softly.
"'Course there is," he said. "Don't you ever laugh so much it hurts? But it feels good."
"Hmmm," I said. "But…"
"Harry," he interrupted. "You have no idea how long I've waited to feel you inside me, and it was too short and it was too hard and it was brilliant."
I looked into his completely sincere face.
"All day," I said, feeling my sex flushed face heat up further. "Whoever I was talking to, however weird it got, the thought of being inside you made me feel… safe."
"I want to keep you safe," he murmured, kissing me. "I'll always keep you safe."
I let my eyes drop closed as his tongue slid between my lips and explored my mouth gently. Something had changed, deep inside me; he'd always made me feel wanted, but now I felt owned. We lay and kissed for some time, my hand on his hip, one of his coming up to cup my face. I didn't notice him rolling me onto my back until he leant over me, one leg slipping between mine, his cock pressed against my thigh.
"Harry," he moaned. "There's… one more… I mean, we don't have to do it now. But I… oh, I…"
I opened my eyes and looked up at him; his eyes were dark and serious, his expression nervous, his cock very hard and trapped between our bodies.
"I'll be careful," he said.
"I want you to."
"Are you sure?"
"I want you to feel what I did," I said. "I want to make you feel it, and I want our Magics to know what we've done."
"D'you… feel it, yet?" he asked.
"I…" I paused and concentrated on the ache I'd felt earlier. "I feel closer to you than ever before; I feel my Magic focussed on you, reaching for you."
He smiled and laughed breathlessly.
"I want that," he said, dipping his head to kiss me. "Oh, Harry, I…"
"I told you," I said, my hands cupping his face to hold him in the kiss. "I want you to. I need you to."
He grinned like a lunatic, dropping messy kisses on my chin, mouth, nose and scar.
"Careful," he said, coming up on hands and knees and pressing more random kisses on my chest and stomach as he crawled backwards. "I promise."
I spread my legs, my feet planted firmly on the bed as he bypassed my sticky come and lube and arse covered cock and settled on his belly between my thighs. My cock twitched at the thought of a Tergeo and a blowjob, but it was Ron's turn. And, if his turn included him sucking on my balls, I'd be a happy man. I felt his hot breath between my legs and whimpered as his tongue touched me. He seemed to test the weight of my balls, lifting them on his tongue and letting them fall. I gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking to just this side of pain.
Then out the other side.
"Ow," I protested, flinching.
"Sorry," he muttered.
He moved lower, his tongue reaching between my cheeks and flicking at my hole.
"Fuck," I moaned, surprised and completely won over by how good it felt. Filthy and intimate and so wrong and fantastic and how was I supposed to not stare at Ron's mouth all day and every day, when I knew where it had been. "Shall I roll over?"
"No," he said, looking up at me, between my thighs." Um. Roll up."
"Up?" I asked, a small part of my brain running 'round in circles and I peered short sightedly down at him and he made eye contact across my cock and licked me again. "Where's up?"
He huffed, his hot breath feeling amazing against my damp skin, and pushed on the backs of my thighs, lifting my arse off the bed. I grabbed the backs of my knees, pulling them hard against my chest and blushing as I opened myself up for him.
"Up like a woodlouse," I said. "You should have said."
"I'm probably crap at romantic stuff," he said indignantly, "but even I am not gonna ask someone to roll up like a woodlouse, in bed!"
He held my arse cheeks in his large hands, his thumbs stroking me gently, but not pressing inside.
"Inside," I whispered.
He moaned and lowered his head, slowly licking, again and again, the length of my crack. A great, lazy, shaggy maned lion, all that power curled up between my legs, lapping at my hole, twisting his tongue and purring as the tip slid inside me. I clenched involuntarily, amazed at the number of nerve ends he'd reached. What was the point of having that many sparking nerve endings, if my arse wasn't made for his tongue? I pulled back harder on my legs, groaning as his tongue thrust into me.
"Fuck," I croaked.
"Soon," he said, reaching for the jar.
Jeannie's Jell slid between my cheeks, warming instantly and tingling as Ron's slicked finger pressed inside me. It barely stretched me.
"More," I moaned.
"Patience Potter," he sad, fucking me slowly with one finger and making my eyes roll back in my head when he added an unexpected second finger, on one stroke. I made what would have been an embarrassing noise in any other circumstances, with any other person, and Ron hummed happily.
"Good boy," he murmured. "Nearly there."
"Now," I said, never surer of anything in my life. "Please."
Ron knelt up, one hand on the back of my thigh, one slicking his erection with more jell. He gave me a serious look.
"You tell me straight away if it hurts," he said, shuffling forwards and pressing his cock between my cheeks.
It felt really rather large and I bit my lip and huffed through flaring nostrils as I tried to relax. Ron frowned and his eyes flickered between my face and my arse as he held his cock firmly in place and moved forward; I flinched as it breached my body and he froze.
"Fuck," I gasped.
"Too much?" he asked, worried eyes meeting mine as he leant over me and braced himself to pull out.
"Wait," I said, grabbing the hand splayed on my thigh and breathing hard. "Out will be the same… go in a bit further."
He looked doubtful, but inched forwards and the pressure eased as he was lodged firmly inside me. Inside me. Fuck. I nodded and he huffed and rocked back and forth the tiniest bit, loosening me on every miniscule stroke.
"Yeah," I said. "Clever."
"'Course," he said modestly, grinning at me and then biting his lip as he thrust deeper.
When he was finally fully inside my body, filling me, his balls heavy against my arse, my thighs protesting as six foot two of freckled Weasley held them wide apart, he stilled and looked down at me.
I have never felt anything like it, except when walking to my death, and I wasn't gonna spoil the moment and tell Ron that.
Loved.
His eyes shone and his breath hitched and cords stood out on his neck and he started to move, muscles moving in his shoulders and chest and stomach as he thrust into me and he was beautiful.
My best mate was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
He wasn't a glimpse of bra strap, or a skirt flipping up as a girl ran up the stairs. He wasn't a tight sweater or laces on a girl's Quidditch uniform.
He was flushed and dripping sweat onto my face and biting my lip as he reached for a kiss and wild eyed and crying out and thrusting harder and throwing back his head as he came and I felt it.
My Magic reached out for his and they touched and clung.
As Ron came inside me, his whole body shaking before curling over me and resting on my chest, I felt him in every part of me. And I felt so sorry for my parents, for his, for everyone who hadn't been with someone, like this. For everyone who muddled through with a series of Secondaries who left them to get married.
For Lee who'd walk away from this, for George's sake.
I wrapped my arms tightly around him as his cock slipped free and my protesting thighs fell to the bed; Ron's hand came up and tangled in my hair as he buried his face in the crook of my neck and covered my body with his; his heavy, sweaty, fantastic body.
"Harry," he whispered.
I kissed the top of his head as he trembled and his Magic had poured into me at the same moment he'd climaxed and he was overcome and I felt a twinge of jealousy until realising that I had done this to him.
Finally, he raised his head and looked down at me and his expression took my breath away; his mouth descended on mine and he kissed me like he wanted to devour me and I let him.
"Harry," he said inadequately, throwing himself down beside me and gathering me up in his arms, but I knew exactly what he meant.
I rested my head on his chest, one leg hooked over his, my fingers playing on his belly, my Magic tangled with his and humming happily inside me.
"Y'know what?" I said casually. "Bill said sometimes it's so… intense, that Partners stay together."
"Mmmm," he murmured into my hair, his hand splayed on my lower back, the tips of his fingers kneading my arse. "I can see that happening; no reason that we couldn't share a whitewashed cottage, one day, when we're all old and stuff."
So he was pretty good at the romantic stuff, after all, the sap.
"Best thing about living in a cottage is you totally use the rear entrance," I pointed out, yawning.
He gave a filthy laugh and kissed the top of my head.
"We'll keep chickens," he said sleepily, pulling me closer. "It'll always be great to be woken by a cock at the back door."