Chanson (Songfic)

"And the someone who touches your hair every day,

Touches you now in a different way,

And you may want to run or you may want to stay

Forever.

And since life is the sound of the sheep,

And the taste of your stew,

And the way that you feel

When he touches you,

Now your whole life is different—

Now your whole life is new."









By the time they crawled out of the fireplace into the living room of their flat, Harry was able to stand on his own without having the room spin. He still felt very warm, however, and was conscious of his own heart beating very fast—particularly when Ron put an arm around him to steady him. “Are you sure you’re okay, mate?” Ron asked, his voice still slightly shrill with worry.



“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry assured him. “Let me just sit down for a minute.” He eased himself onto the couch and leaned back, letting his head rest over the back. On an impulse, as Ron passed him, he reached out and took the other man’s hand. “And Ron? Thanks.”



Ron flushed, the kind of embarrassed blush Harry had seen for years but had never thought of as appealing—until now. “Don’t worry about it.” He squeezed Harry’s hand, then released it. “I’m going to get a beer—you want anything?”



“No, I’m good. Thanks.”



Ron nodded and left the room. The kitchen was close enough that Harry could hear him open the refrigerator door, shut it, and open a bottle.



Thirty seconds later, Ron was back. His eyes were very wide and anxious. Harry, as he stood up to meet him, could feel his own heart speed up again.



“Harry, I…”



“Ron…”



And then Ron’s mouth was on his, and Ron’s arms were around him, holding him close, and he felt himself responding, as if floodgates within him had burst at last.



Ron was stronger and heavier; he drove Harry back onto the couch; they fell onto the cushions in a tangle mass of arms and legs and tongues. Ron was kissing him hard, his hands reaching under Harry’s arse to wrap Harry’s legs around him, then reaching under Harry’s shirt to stroke the hard muscles and soft skin underneath. Harry had never felt anything like this—not with Cho, not even with Ginny, and when he kissed Ron, it was with all the frustration and all the longing and all the need he’d been bottling up for months.



Somehow they managed to get to Harry’s bedroom (it was closer) without breaking the kiss. Ron’s hand slipped under Harry’s waistband and his fingers just brushed the head of Harry’s dick, and Harry almost exploded right there and then. His own hands were slipping down the back of Ron’s jeans to cup his arse and hold him even tighter, and Ron began to thrust against Harry, even as Harry kicked off his shoes and socks and heard Ron do the same.



Ron shifted a little so that he was on Harry’s side, and Harry’s dick demanded attention. He began to rub it through his jeans, and Ron, a twinkle in his eye, began to stroke Harry’s balls with his thumb. Harry reached for Ron’s jeans, trying to get the button undone, and Ron immediately went after Harry’s.



It turned into a race, with both men trying to get the other’s pants open first—but it was a race that Ron won, and he celebrated his victory by reaching through the fly of Harry’s boxers and grabbing Harry’s dick in a firm grasp.



Harry gasped and again had to hold himself back from bringing things to a close too early!



And through all this, they hadn’t broken the kiss. But now, Harry did, and, smiling up at Ron, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Ron started to do the same…



“Let me give you some incentive for that,” Harry grinned. As Ron pulled off his shirt, Harry began to kiss and lick the abs underneath, then worked his way up to Ron’s nipples to smother them with lips, tongue, and teeth.



“Oh…HARRY!” Ron gasped. Harry continue his work, and Ron stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, and Harry wondered what the hell they’d been waiting for.



Ron playfully shoved Harry down onto the couch. Harry lay there beaming up at his best friend, and Ron smiled back, a shy grin that Harry felt himself answering. “What d’you reckon was in that soup?” Ron asked.



“I have no idea,” Harry said, “but Fleur just shot up to the top of my list of favorite Weasleys.”



“The VERY top?” Ron asked archly. “I think I might change your mind about that.”



“Maybe. How do you plan on doing that?”



“Watch and learn.” Ron began to slide Harry’s pants off, and Harry peeled off his underwear at the same time. Harry started to sit up, but Ron was on him again, his mouth latching hungrily onto Harry’s. Harry’s hands slid down Ron’s muscular body and began fumbling with the waistband of the redhead’s jeans and boxers. He managed to get them halfway down Ron’s legs before he got his feet into the act, hooking his toes into the pants and sliding them off Ron’s body.



Harry had never realized what a solid, perfectly-formed ass Ron had, but now he let his fingers explore, tracing little patterns on each buttock. He and Ron kissed and kissed and kissed, and a small part—a very small part—of Harry’s head wondered how they would ever bring themselves to stop.



Not that he even remotely wanted to.



But then again……Ron’s hand had drifted down to Harry’s dick, and was beginning to stroke it oh-so-gently, and Harry began to think of other things he could be doing with his mouth…



But the taste of Ron….so sweet…..so wonderful……each pause in the kiss had Harry panting in anticipation for the next……



Ron was thrusting against him and Harry moved with him, their bodies pushing against each other with all their need and all their passion and all their love……



And then Ron broke the kiss altogether, and Harry looked deeply into his eyes. He could see fear there, and longing, and a little bit of guilt. “Harry,” Ron said slowly, “I’ve been wanting this……I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting this, wanting you.”



“I’ve wanted you, too, Ron,” Harry said, his voice heavy with emotion, “probably just as long.”



“I wish I’d known that. That’s why,” Ron flushed with embarrassment, “that’s why I’ve been such an angry git the last couple of months. Living so close to you, but not getting to BE close to you……it hurt, Harry. Real, physical pain.”



“Well, you’re close to me now,” Harry pointed out. “What are you going to do about it?”



“Just this.”



And Ron’s head vanished, and scant moments later, Harry felt a warm, wet tongue sliding in circles along the head of his dick, a moment of hot breath hitting it—and then he was inside Ron’s mouth.



He was INSIDE Ron’s MOUTH.



Ron engulfed him all at once, and then slid his mouth s-l-o-w-l-y back up Harry’s shaft, and Harry reached down and stroked Ron’s thick red hair and leaned back in pure pleasure. A tiny corner of his mind wondered where in the hell Ron had learned how to do this, but the rest of his mind shouted a collective, “WHO CARES?” and cowed that tiny part into submission.



But not silence. Harry heard himself say, without really being conscious of saying it, “Where……how……Ron, where did you learn how to do this???”



Ron stopped, and let Harry out of his mouth with a loud POP! He looked puzzled. “I…don’t know, mate,” he admitted. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I never even looked at a bloke that way before,” he blushed, “before we got home this afternoon.



“I just……know what would feel good to you, Harry,” he continued. “I don’t know how I know, but I know. I even know what’ll happen when I do this….”



He lightly brushed a single finger across Harry’s stomach, and Harry jerked up and gasped in pleasure. The feeling of Ron’s touch—just there—almost made him climax right then.



“Lie back, mate,” Ron murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Lemme get back to you.”



Harry did, and Ron took him into his mouth again.



The next few minutes passed in pure ecstasy for Harry. Ron, Ron’s mouth on him, Ron naked next to him—it overwhelmed his senses. He felt his head sink back over the edge of the bed. His eyes were closed, of course, out of necessity—his body was getting so much sensation that it couldn’t handle any more.



Then Ron shifted position, and Harry suddenly smelled an intoxicating musk right in front of him. He opened his eyes, and sure enough—there was Ron’s equipment dangling over his nose.



Only one thing to do, after all.



Harry opened his mouth, and let Ron’s dick drop down right into it. Driven almost wild by need, he sucked it hungrily, like a nursing baby, while his hands stroked and squeezed Ron’s muscular legs.



He’d never noticed before how smooth Ron’s skin was.



What a strange thing not to know about your best mate.



They stayed that way for a long time, Ron propped up on his hands and knees to give Harry some breathing room, making love to Harry’s dick, his hips thrusting into Harry’s mouth, while Harry’s throat stretched hard to take it all, and his hands slid over the hard muscles of Ron’s back and shoulders. But finally, Ron lifted himself off of Harry and turned around to kiss him.



“Stand up,” Harry murmured.



“What?”



“Stand up. I want to look at you.”



Ron smiled, and got slowly to his feet. Before Harry could even get the words out of his mouth, he began to flex like a posing bodybuilder, showing off first one bulging bicep, then the other, then turning forward so Harry could feast his eyes on the massive chest tapering down to a narrow waste, the flat stomach, the powerful legs—and what lay in between.



Harry couldn’t help himself. He sat up and lunged for Ron’s dick, his mouth open and ready. He took the huge organ all at once with one gulp and slid it quickly out of his mouth. Ron held onto the wall to steady himself, and Harry, with a grin, saw that Ron’s knees really were buckling.



He did it again.



And again.



And again and again and again, with Ron’s moans filling his ears and Ron’s fingers buried deep in his hair. Harry knew nothing but need, and that need was Ron, Ron, and only Ron.



And then Ron pulled out of his mouth with a loud POP! He bent over and took Harry’s face in his hands. There was need there, too—but need mixed with fear.



“Harry,” he said. “Do you wanna try to…”



“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “Gods, yes.”



“I-I’ve never done this before with a bloke,” Ron mumbled. “How do we?”



Harry sat back on his haunches and thought for a second. “Well, one of us has to go into the other’s arse,” he said. “After that, it must be just like doing it with a girl, I expect.”



“Probably,” Ron agreed. “Only problem is—who goes into who?”



“Shoot for it?”



“You’re on. On three. One, two, three….”



Harry threw a rock, but Ron threw paper. He laid his hand on Harry’s fist and smiled. “Guess you lost, mate.”



“Guess I WON.”



Ron smiled, a shy smile that Harry hadn’t seen on his face in years. He leaned back onto the bed and lifted his legs in the air—he had no idea how he knew to do that, but his instincts had never let him down before.



Ron spat in his hand and rubbed it on his dick, then spat some more and rubbed it into Harry’s arse—Harry gasped when the wetness touched his hole. Ron got between Harry’s raised legs, his dick in his hand—and Harry felt it against him.



It felt really big.



REALLY big.



And Ron’s spit was already drying.



Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.



A second later, Harry knew it wasn’t a good idea. Ron had barely pushed half a centimeter into him, and Harry yelped in pain. “No……no……Ron, hold off!”



Ron almost threw himself across the room away from Harry. He began to moan, “Oh, gods, mate, I’m so sorry, I…”



“It’s all right,” Harry said quickly. “Really, it’s fine!”



Ron shook his head. “How do blokes do this without killing themselves?”



“There has to be a way,” Harry said. He was surprised at the note of determination in his voice—he hadn’t heard THAT in a while, either. He thought hard, trying to think of anything that would work—and then he had it.



He looked around for his wand; how he’d gotten the presence of mind to lay it carefully on the bedside table……he grabbed it, pointed it in the general direction of the kitchen, and cried, “ACCIO CRISCO!!!!!”



There was the sound of a door bursting open, and a couple of things falling to the floor, but within seconds, a can of vegetable shortening hurtled into the room and into Harry’s outstretched hand.



“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he said mildly.



Ron grinned and caught the can as Harry tossed it to him. He opened it and scooped out a generous handful—obviously, they wouldn’t be using this particular can for cooking anymore, and smeared it over his now-soft dick, which stiffened right back up at the attention. Ron took out another handful, and Harry quickly put himself back in the same position as before. Ron rubbed the shortening onto Harry’s hole—and then into it, as Harry felt the hole opening under Ron’s touch.



Ron got between Harry’s legs again, and whispered, “Ready?”



“Yes.”



It still hurt—but not as much. Harry gritted his teeth and concentrated on breathing away the pain. His eyes squeezed tightly shut and his fists clenched.



But gradually, the pain began to ease.



Ron began to thrust into him, short, easy strokes. Harry’s dick had gone down as soon as Ron had entered him; he began to jerk it to get it hard again.



It wasn’t long before it was—and it wasn’t long before thick, milky-white fluid exploded from it. Harry cried out as he came, wild, guttural cries of pure, raw pleasure.



Ron gasped, “I’m…right….behind you….mate!!!!”



Still dazzled by the strength of his orgasm, Harry felt, rather than saw, Ron pull out of him—and heard Ron crying out his name then, and felt hot wetness splash across his chest and stomach …and then felt Ron collapsing on top of him.



They lay there for what seemed like forever, too spent to do much more than breathe, their bodies slowly cooling down. Ron’s lips brushed against Harry’s ear, and he whispered, “Love you, mate.”



“I love you, too, Ron,” Harry whispered back. “What time is it?”



Ron glanced upwards; Harry guessed he could see the alarm clock from where he was. “Just past six,” he grunted. “What do you say to ordering in some Thai for dinner? I don’t think I can move very far.”



Harry smiled. “Sounds perfect, mate—and then, after dinner……”



“What?”



“It’s my turn.”



"Chaque jour est un jour

Comme les autres doux jours

Le potage, l\'ouvrage

Peut-etre l\'amour

Le soleil, il voyage

Le monde fait un tour

Ainsi cest toujours le meme ..."









That Fleur Weasley, nee Delacourt, was pleased should not have come as a surprise to anyone. Fleur was the kind of woman who held herself to the most exacting standards imaginable—but when she met those standards, she permitted herself just the tiniest bit of self-congratulation.



By now, she thought with a smile, things should have come to a head between Harry and Ron. She could hardly wait to tell her husband Bill about it.



Perhaps over soup……