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It took him seven years.
Seven years, hundreds of hours of study and training, and not just a little
blood, sweat and tears (in addition to the occasional layer of skin), and
the work of a lifetime was complete. A little less swishing, a tighter flick
and voila! Seamus Finnegan had turned water to rum.
Or something like rum.
Sort of.
Actually, it didn't smell or taste like rum at all. But water. With a bit of
a kick.
Perhaps more than a bit.
Harry sat at the table at the Burrow and sneered into the glass. "I don't
know," he said dubiously. He looked around the table at the expectant faces
of his friends.
"Come on, Harry," Seamus urged.
"It's brilliant!" George said. Fred agreed.
"Yeah, it doesn't even taste bad," Dean said.
"We might get in trouble," Harry said weakly.
"Trouble?" Ron gaped for a moment before slumping back in his chair. "My
parents are in Romania, we're not in school anymore, and Bill
certainly won't mind," he argued. "Percy might, but Percy's a sod." Ron
shook his head. "Harry Potter is worried about getting into trouble," he
said to no one in particular.
Harry sighed heavily. It was a pretty lousy excuse, he realised. Truth be
told, he couldn't care less about the trouble they might get into. He had
other problems. Problems he couldn't tell this lot. The truth was that
alcohol had a curious effect on Harry Potter.
It made him gay.
His stomach sank at the memory of the last time he'd gotten pissed.
The time he somehow wound up professing his undying love to Professor Snape,
of all people. Four weeks of detention and two endless years of humiliation
later, Harry was still intent on keeping his vow never to drink again.
He shook his head.
"Harry! I've been working on this my whole life," Seamus pleaded. His
nose was already quite red from the day of 'testing' he'd been doing. The
rest of the group didn't look much better. Harry had mercifully been spared
the Trevor treatment as he'd spent the afternoon shopping with Sirius for
their new flat. He regretted now leaving Sirius to arrange everything.
"I just—" he started, but was cut off by Bill walking in the room.
"What's going on?" Bill asked cheerfully. He lowered several bags onto the
kitchen floor and pocketed his wand.
"Bill, try this!" Fred—or was it George?—said, standing. He extended a glass
of Seamus' experiment in magical distillation.
Harry watched as the older wizard took a sip. "Water," he breathed and then
went in for a longer draught. When he lowered the glass again, he exhaled
sharply and shivered. "What is it?" he said with a tight voice.
"Seamus turned water to rum," Ron explained with a grin. "Well, sort of. We
were just trying to convince Harry—"
But Harry was already drinking. He wasn't about to let them make a prat of
him in front of Bill. Bill was just so...cool. And Harry had fought far too
hard in the last seven years to be called a coward now. So he drank. And
drank.
And drank.
And then it was gone. It really did taste like water. With a bit of a burn
at the back of the throat and that sort of wracking aftershock that you get
from drinking real booze. Harry set his empty glass down and shuddered
convulsively. He looked around the table at several gaping faces.
"What?" he asked, and then cleared his throat.
"Er..." Dean said.
"Nothing," Seamus said, too quickly.
Harry narrowed his eyes. "What?" he insisted, glaring at Ron, who looked
scared.
"It's just...a bit strong," Ron said carefully.
Harry looked around the table to see everyone's glass was still
three-quarters full. "Fuck," he groaned and cradled his head with his hand.
"You'll be fine," one of the twins grinned and then slugged him in the
shoulder.
Several hours later...
"Sorry, Harry." Ron's voice echoed from outside the toilet.
Harry groaned miserably, his stomach heaving once more into his throat. He
spit. There was nothing left in his stomach. He groaned again.
"He'll be fine. You lot go on. I'll stay with him."
Harry meant to protest. He didn't want to be left alone. Not with Bill. He
didn't want Bill to see him like this. He meant to say that he'd never
forgive his best friend if he left him like this, hanging pathetically from
a toilet.
He retched instead. Painfully. And then went back to groaning, interrupted
by the occasional coughing and spitting.
He would never drink again. And this time, he meant it.
A hand fell between his shoulder blades and rubbed soothingly. And that was
decidedly a lovely feeling. Calming. A rush of coolness wafted against his
face when the toilet was flushed. He opened his eyes to see what was left of
his stomach swirl out of sight.
"Here, I just brewed this. It should help."
Turning his head toward this was quite possibly the most difficult
thing he'd ever accomplished. But accomplish it he did. He might have felt
pleased with himself, except it occurred to him that he'd have to actually
lift his head if he was to drink whatever was in the phial. And suddenly the
thought of putting anything in his stomach was enough to make the
thing give a violent jolt of protest. Harry whimpered and wrinkled his nose,
squeezing his eyes shut.
"Come on. It'll make you feel better," Bill said. Harry felt the man kneel
at his side. A strong arm curled around him, lifting him into a seated
position. Harry slumped against the figure limply. His mouth opened as the
phial was introduced to his lips.
The stuff was warm and tasted like—well, Harry didn't know what, but it
wasn't too bad. A bit peppery. Harry swallowed, pleading with his stomach to
accept the offering. For a moment, he didn't think it would happen. He held
his breath and waited.
Gradually, his head stopped spinning and his diaphragm relaxed into its
normal position. After a moment, he felt fine. A bit foggy, perhaps. A
little drunk. But no longer sick and no longer dizzy. A moment after that,
he became aware that he was slumped against a firm, warm body, that one hand
was stroking his head soothingly, and that another lay flat against his
stomach. Harry moaned contentedly.
"Feeling better?" A soft voice tickled his ear.
A swirling—a wholly different sort of swirling than the one that had just
been cured—began in his recently settled stomach. This one was much more
pleasant.
And no less wrong, some merciless part of his brain reminded him.
Harry opened his eyes and tried to focus. The world was blurry, but no
longer spinning cruelly around him. Bill's face was quite clear to him. And
quite close.
Bill smiled.
Harry blushed.
Bill grinned.
Harry was going to be sick again, he decided as his stomach rolled over on
itself. He broke free of Bill's comforting embrace and put his warm face
between his knees, breathing deeply. His heart was beating like mad and his
stomach felt as he'd swallowed a dozen or so pixies.
This wasn't nausea, it occurred to him. It was worse.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up to see Bill standing over him, hand stretched in offering.
This was Bill. Bill Weasley, older brother of Harry's best friend. He was
practically family. Well, barring the fact Harry could count the number of
times he'd seen Bill on one hand. Which was decidedly a shame, Harry
thought, looking up at the tall, lanky wizard.
Harry felt a silly grin stretch across his face. For the life of him, he
couldn't seem to make it go away. He heard a chuckling from above, but
couldn't make out Bill's expression. He couldn't see at all, he realised. He
brought his hand to his face.
"Where are my glasses?" he asked.
"Oh," the other man said.
"Oh," Harry repeated. That didn't sound good.
His hand was seized and he was pulled to his feet quickly. He held out his
arms in anticipation of the dizziness, but it didn't come. In fact, he felt
pretty good. A bit giddy, maybe. And everything seemed to be covered in fog
and shadows, but on the whole this drunk thing wasn't so bad.
"I think mum has an extra toothbrush lying around here," Bill said rummaging
through the cupboard.
Harry slid his tongue over the roof of his mouth and scowled at the fine
layer of fuzz that seemed to cover it. A toothbrush would be good. He had
been throwing up all night, after all, and Bill wouldn't likely want to kiss
him unless he brushed his teeth.
"Ah, here we are," Bill said turning and holding out a packaged toothbrush.
Harry blinked and then shook his head as though to rid it of the ridiculous
thought. As though Bill would want to kiss Harry.
Wait. Harry didn't want to kiss...
"All right?" Bill asked.
Nodding, despite feeling rather flustered and confused, Harry took the
toothbrush and struggled to get the thing out of the package. Bill left the
room. Squeezing a dot of toothpaste onto the bristles, Harry told himself
that he was not doing this to be kissable.
Kissable.
Was that even a word?
Harry snorted and began the task of de-fuzzing his mouth. He glared into the
mirror. You're being stupid, he reprimanded his reflection. Bill
thinks you're a total prat, now. And he's stuck here babysitting you because
you're an arse. And you're thinking about snogging? What is wrong with you?
Harry shut his eyes tightly and spit into the sink. He was an arse. But he
could act sober. He would go in there. And be relaxed. And not look at the
man. Or sit next to him. Or entertain any thought whatsoever of kissing or
of those strong arms and that warm body and what it might feel like...
Harry cupped his hand filling it with water. He was not gay. He'd had tons
of girlfriends. None for more than a few weeks or so, but he was only
seventeen. He just felt more comfortable with blokes. It didn't mean he
wanted to shag them. Or be shagged by them. With their firm hands and their
hard chests...
Harry spit again and placed the toothbrush in the holder. One more
reprimanding look at his reflection and he marched into the sitting room
where Bill sat in the corner of the sofa, a half-drunk glass of Seamus'
wicked water sitting next to him.
"Better?" Bill said with a smile.
Harry shifted his eyes and nodded. He sat at the other end of the sofa.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I mean...for everything. And thanks." He remarked
that words involving his tongue were a bit difficult to manage. He didn't
quite know where that left him as a conversationalist. He supposed he could
work with vague sounds of affirmation or negation. Mmm and ah...oh. Eh? So
long as Bill did most of the talking, Harry would only come across as an
idiot. As opposed to a drunk, foolish, slurring idiot.
"Don't be sorry," Bill said. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't found myself
in the same position on several occasions," he laughed. He took another sip
of the drink.
"Hm," Harry said in a self-deprecating tone. It was all about the tone, he
decided.
Bill moved over to the middle of the couch and patted Harry's knee. "Don't
worry. You've not done anything stupid."
Yet, Harry added silently. He snorted. Give him time, and he'd manage
it.
He belatedly became aware that Bill's hand was still on his knee, radiating
heat which pulsed through Harry's body. Harry stared at the hand and for a
moment he fancied he was keeping it in place with his eyes. That if he
shifted his eyes the hand would disappear.
He tested his theory, shifting his eyes toward Bill who was watching him. He
suddenly felt very...uncomfortable? Nervous?
"Er..." he said, and had he kept it at that, it might have been better. But
nervousness has a way of destroying good intentions. "I don't normally... I
really shouldn't drink because I always end up..." gay "saying
things. Or doing things. That..." Why was he talking?
"What sort of things?" Bill asked softly.
Maybe it was because he was pissed, but Harry thought Bill seemed rather
close all of a sudden. Like the couch was slowly shrinking. And the index
finger on that hand had begun tracing along Harry's kneecap. When the hell
did his kneecap become connected to his bollocks?
"Erm," Harry said breathlessly, pointedly not looking anywhere at all. His
head was positively swimming now and he was getting dizzy again. Not the
nauseous sort of dizzy. A different sort. "I suppose I just think things...I
don't normally. Like..." He trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the hand
on his knee. It was pale and freckled with long flat fingers, which curled
over the inside of Harry's knee and were rubbing in small, tight caresses at
the underside. Harry gasped as some strange shiver ran through him. "Wow,"
he whispered.
Bill laughed. "You're adorable," he said, reaching over with his other hand
to brush a lock of hair from Harry's forehead.
Harry went hot again. Hotter. He thought he might pass out from the heat
waving through his body. Embarrassment, arousal, nervousness. It was all too
much. Harry cleared his throat and ventured a look at the man. Bill leaned
back coolly on the couch. His head rested on the back of the sofa, tilted
toward Harry. He watched Harry through heavy lidded eyes.
Harry looked away quickly. "You look tired," he said. He didn't know what
else to say and he certainly didn't want to dwell on the man's last comment.
He remarked, however, that the various fires burning inside him had seared
away some of the fog around his brain. He was thinking quite clearly. Too
clearly.
"I'm not particularly. You?"
Harry shook his head.
"Are you certain? You could go lie down for a bit if you'd like."
His stomach was doing that jumping thing that made all his breath escape in
a loud quick breath. He swallowed dryly. "'m fine," he mumbled.
The hand disappeared from his knee and Harry tried to be grateful for it. He
tried also not to notice that the hand's ghost was still there, giving
little pulses of energy which were making him feel a bit giddy. Giddier.
"Ron tells me you did really well in Quidditch this year. Any thoughts on
going pro?"
Harry looked over, dumbfounded. Quidditch? Did Bill know what the hell he
was doing to Harry? Harry didn't think so. Because if he knew, he certainly
wouldn't expect Harry to be thinking about Quidditch.
How could the man be so...cool? Just sitting there as though having one's
hand on another's knee was a perfectly casual gesture. As though calling
someone adorable was something one said in normal conversation. Bill was
teasing Harry.
Wasn't he?
Maybe he wasn't. Gah! Harry really was a prat. Bill was obviously just
trying to be nice. To make him feel more comfortable and less like
the idiot he obviously was. And Harry was practically panting.
What the hell was wrong with him?
"Harry?"
"Hm?"
Bill laughed and Harry couldn't really be certain why. He tried to go back
to see what he'd done that was so funny and, failing, decided it was best to
laugh along nervously. "Sorry," he said. "I get...sorry."
The sofa creaked as Bill moved over again.
Harry tried to relax into the corner. He tried to slump back as coolly as
Bill, his legs falling comfortably open. But when his leg brushed against
Bill's, he sat up straight and quickly closed them.
"Harry, do I make you nervous?" Bill's voice was low but there was a hint of
mocking in it.
"No! I...why, wha—no. You don't..." Harry decided to shut up, remembering
that vowel sounds were the most his mouth was capable of.
Bill chuckled. "Well, that's good. Because I quite like you." Bill seized
Harry's hand. "You shouldn't do that," he said, pulling the hand up for
inspection.
"What?"
"Pick at the skin around your nails. You're bleeding." Bill offered Harry's
thumb as evidence.
"Oh," Harry said, leaning over to look at it.
Bill held Harry's hand between his own. "You'd have nice hands otherwise.
Strong. A bit rough." Harry bit his lip as Bill traced a finger over his
callused palm. "I like rough hands," Bill said quietly.
"You do?"
"Yeah. They're nice. You don't get calluses in my line of work." He turned
his face toward Harry's and Harry could feel Bill's laugh puff against his
face. "Boils, flesh-eating curses, but not calluses."
Harry shot a sideways glance at the wizard, but kept his attention turned
toward his hand in Bills'. Timidly, he let his own hand curl around one of
the other wizard's. He brought it to him for an equally close inspection. He
held it gently with one hand and with the other traced the lines on Bill's
palm.
"You've got long fingers," he said softly, pressing his palm against the
other to compare size. The tips of Bill's fingers stretched past Harry's and
then shifted to weave between them. And for a moment Harry merely watched as
a strange dance began. Fingers moving between fingers and stroking back up
firmly and then out. Fingers sliding over palms, covering the tops of hands
and back together again.
Only when the other hand stopped, clasping Harry's hand and squeezing
meaningfully did it occur to Harry what had been happening. He snatched his
hand away, hiding it between his legs as though to restrain it and keep it
from doing anything naughty.
He was unprepared for the other hand to pursue it.
When Bill's hand insinuated itself between Harry's hand and Harry's thigh,
the rest of Harry's body jerked violently. Were it not for the arm which had
wrapped around Harry's shoulders, Harry might have jumped off the sofa.
"Are you sure you don't want to lie down for a bit?" Bill breathed against
Harry's neck.
"I like girls," Harry said, suddenly feeling it very important that this was
understood. The low laugh that vibrated against his ear made him wonder if
he'd been convincing. Lips pressing against an insanely sensitive spot just
underneath his ear made Harry wonder if he was being honest.
"So do I. I like girls," Bill whispered and then drew bits of Harry's skin
up into dry kisses that were making him feel very drunk indeed. "They're
nice... sweet... soft..." Bill was all over Harry now. His lips everywhere
and teeth. On Harry's throat and neck and ears. Crawling along Harry's jaw.
Bill's hand pulled Harry's out from between his legs and led it to Harry's
crotch, pressing Harry's palm flat into his own half-erection. Harry's mouth
opened, his eyes rolling back. "But sometimes I prefer hard things," Bill
breathed.
The man's lips were posed at the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry held his
breath, waiting expectantly for that mouth to cover his own, but it didn't.
Harry opened his eyes, not having ever been aware of closing them, to see
Bill watching him with warm brown eyes smouldering with intent.
Harry pulled his head back. "I—"
Bill's hand released Harry's to come up and stroke the side of Harry's face.
After a moment it occurred to Harry to move his own hand away from his
crotch. He lowered his eyes timidly.
"I just want you to be comfortable, Harry," Bill smiled, running his finger
along the bridge of Harry's nose. "If you want me to stop, I'll stop." That
hand stroked down to lay along Harry's jaw line, thumb sweeping up to run
across Harry's bottom lip. "Do you want me to stop?" Bill leaned in again
and began doing that thing with his mouth and Harry's neck. His other hand
was weaving in and out of Harry's hair languidly.
It was all too much sensation so close to his brain. Did he want Bill to
stop? Yes. At least, he should have wanted it. He thought he might want it,
were he allowed to think calmly about it for a minute. But who could think
with those hands and that mouth. And it felt so...nice...that he didn't
really want it to stop. In fact, he wanted more—though he shouldn't. He
shouldn't want more. He should stop this.
The sound that oozed out of Harry's throat was intended to be a sound of
protest. Harry thought his message might have gotten across when Bill stood
up, leaving Harry's brain swimming and seeking more of that lovely contact.
Face flushed, Harry looked up at Bill. He was breathing rather heavily
through an open mouth.
"Come on," Bill said, reaching out his hand.
Harry blinked, trying desperately to come to his senses.
Bill laughed lightly. "Relax. I only want to make you feel better," he
grinned. He reached down and took both of Harry's hands in his before
pulling him to his feet.
Harry was pissed, granted. But he wasn't completely ignorant. He had a
pretty good idea of what would happen if he followed the other wizard. And
he knew exactly where Bill was leading him. He just couldn't work out why he
was following Bill up the stairs.
His heart pounded heavily and his stomach was slightly nauseous with
anxiety. He liked Bill. If he was honest with himself, he had had a bit of a
crush on Bill from the moment he saw him. Bill was cool and smart and sexy.
He was...
Leading Harry into a dark bedroom. He turned around once Harry was through
the door and leaned in to shut the door behind Harry. He lingered
deliberately close, his head hanging forward and Harry felt pretty sure that
the breath falling on his neck, making his body shiver, was not accidental.
"This is better, isn't it?" Bill said quietly. His hands rested on Harry's
hips.
Harry was torn between nervous excitement and panic. Some part of him knew
that he should not be doing this. That this was wrong. He was Ron's brother!
If Ron ever found out..."The others," Harry said weakly. "I mean...what if
they—"
"They'll be out late," Bill said, sliding his hands under Harry's t-shirt to
stroke the skin underneath. "Besides, you have to sleep somewhere, right?
You'll not all fit in Ron's room."
That made sense, Harry supposed. He was just in here because there was
nowhere else for him to sleep. It didn't mean that he was going to do
anything he oughtn't. He would just sleep. Harry nodded and pointedly
ignored the glaring fact that he was not even remotely tired now.
Bill stepped back and took Harry's hands again, tugging Harry forward as he
slowly back up until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat down and
released Harry's hands to pull off his boots and socks. Harry stood, fixed
to the spot, watching uncertainly. Bill kept his eyes on him as he scooted
back to the head of the bed and then lay down, propping his head with one
arm curled up.
Harry swallowed nervously and then toed off his sneakers. Taking a deep
breath, he crawled up to lie at the side of the bed. Bill rolled onto his
side, and though Harry's eyes were closed tightly, he could feel the man
looking at him. He opened his eyes when Bill laughed again.
He looked over to see the other man roll onto his back again with a heavy
sigh. A vague stirring of regret mixed with the muddle of other things Harry
was feeling. He was being ridiculous. Acting like a scared little kid,
really. At least, that's what Bill must be thinking. That he was scared.
And he was, truth be told. Or confused. He didn't know what he was, but it
worried him that Bill wasn't touching him anymore. Something like
disappointment set in when he considered that maybe Bill really did only
intend to sleep. But that was good, right?
Sighing heavily, Harry rolled onto his side, facing the wall. "Goodnight,
then," he said quietly. He wasn't anywhere near sleepy so he contented
himself with trying to make recognisable shapes of the places where the
paint was chipped.
"Harry?"
Harry twisted his head around. "Yeah?" he whispered.
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Bill whispered back.
Harry rolled over to face him. "You didn't. Honestly. I just—"
"You like girls." Bill turned his head toward him and smiled.
Harry lowered his eyes. "Yeah. I mean...normally."
Bill rolled over to his side. "Have you ever tried it?"
"Tried what?" Harry raised his eyes again to see Bill. He looked away just
as quickly.
"You know...with a bloke."
Harry shook his head. He'd never even gone further than snogging with
anyone. He supposed he just didn't care all that much. It wasn't something
he thought too much about. What with Voldemort after him most of his youth,
his libido was something kept easily in check with a few minutes of nightly
maintenance.
Bill's hand came to stroke his cheek again, urging Harry to look at him.
Harry's breath caught in his chest as he glanced up. Bill moved closer to
him until his knees met with Harry's. "Will you let me kiss you?"
Harry's stomach shot up into his throat and he couldn't answer properly. Not
that Bill would have been able to hear his answer anyway what with Harry's
heart making all that noise.
"Just a kiss," Bill said, moving in, eyes half shut.
Harry scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and held his breath. He closed
his eyes waiting for what seemed like an eternity for that mouth. He could
feel the heat of those lips hovering just beyond his own. He felt Bill
shift. Bill's leg slid between Harry's knees, all the way up until Harry
could feel the man's thigh against his crotch. He lost his breath instantly
with the contact. Bill was still moving slowly up and pushing Harry onto his
back, stretching against Harry's side. Harry could feel the other man's
erection pressing into his hip bone. He was nearly mad with anticipation by
the time those lips brushed his own, tickling them. Harry couldn't take it
anymore and raised his head, crushing his mouth hard into Bill's. His hand
rose to the back of Bill's head to keep the man from torturing him anymore.
Bill moaned and thrust his hips against Harry's side. He parted his lips to
trap Harry's bottom lip between them and then tilted his head to get closer.
The scratchy stubble of Bill's chin felt strange against Harry's skin. So
much different than kissing girls. Bigger somehow. Girls were so small and
soft. Bill's tongue was thick as it slid through Harry's lips, prodding
Harry's tongue and then retreating. Harry chased it instinctually, brushing
over Bill's bottom lip as he ventured forth into that mouth. He pressed his
face into the stinging rough skin.
He breathed heavily and his head was lost in a cloud of arousal. That Bill
was rocking his hips and flexing his thigh against Harry's erection wasn't
helping Harry at all. A slight pang of warning speared his insides, but
Harry was too far gone to pay attention to it just now. It was just a kiss,
after all. Kissing wasn't a big deal. He would stop it before it got too
far, he thought.
Bill's hand slid up Harry's shirt and strong fingers wrapped around Harry's
side, gripping Harry's ribcage forcefully. Harry's hips jutted up of their
own volition and the resulting shock of pleasure frightened the young
wizard. He drew his head back, surprised. His hands went to Bill's shoulders
to push the older man away as he breathed heavily to rid his brain of the
fog swirling around it.
"Stop," he panted. "I can't..." he said breathlessly.
Bill exhaled sharply and turned his head to wipe his mouth against his arm.
"You're kidding, right?" he breathed.
Harry froze, his stomach sinking heavily. He closed his eyes and let his
head roll to the side. "Sorry," he whispered.
Another deep breath. "No, it's all right," Bill sighed, collapsing onto the
pillow. He was still draped over Harry's side. Harry could still feel the
hardness digging into his hip. After a moment, Bill turned his head to face
him. "You're a fabulous kisser," he smiled. "Thank you."
Harry smiled back weakly. "So are you," he said softly. He felt guilty and
uncertain as to why he'd stopped. He actually quite enjoyed kissing Bill. He
was only rather worried about where it might lead if it continued.
"Not bad for a bloke, eh?" Bill teased and leaned in to kiss Harry again
softly. "You're incredible. I don't normally like younger men," Bill said.
He drew his hand out of Harry's shirt and wrapped it around the back of
Harry's head. "You're different," he whispered. "Sexy," he lowered his eyes
and then raised them again to stare into Harry's.
Harry smiled sincerely now. His stomach was fluttering and he almost felt
like giggling. "Well," he snorted. "I don't normally go for blokes at all,
so..." He grinned.
"I won't tell anyone," Bill smiled. "If you don't."
Harry shook his head and then gave into the urge to laugh. It felt good and
seemed to take away all the tension and nervousness. Bill laughed too,
though he didn't seem to find it nearly as funny. His hand went down to cup
Harry's hip bone. He squeezed gently. Harry stopped laughing.
Bill didn't ask before he kissed Harry again. He just did it. Slowly this
time, but insistently, much less reluctantly than before. And Harry met the
kiss not quite willingly but also not willing to stop it. Because he enjoyed
it. The scratchiness that was scrubbing his chin raw, the strong lips
twisting his own between them, the thick, wet tongue probing and exploring
his mouth. He liked it. He didn't want it to stop.
He set aside the voice which told him that it shouldn't continue. Just for
awhile.
The hand at his hip traced the edge of Harry's jeans until it came to the
button. Harry gave a whimper of protest and tried to jerk his hips away.
"It's all right. Just let me..." Bill breathed before kissing Harry again.
Harry kissed back though all his attention was trained on the gentle tugging
of those fingers on his jeans. The button popped out of the hole and the
hand returned to Harry's hip. Harry sighed and relaxed back into the kiss.
He kept his hands stationed on Bill's shoulders, worried that any movement
at all would encourage the older man onward.
But Bill was going very slowly, and Harry thought maybe the older man was as
content as he to just have a bit of a snog. He'd stopped rocking his hips in
that maddening way and, while he'd undone Harry's jeans, he didn't seem to
be going any further. Just his fingers slipping only a bit inside the
waistband of Harry's shorts to curl over Harry's hipbone. But that was
hardly anything to get excited about.
Harry allowed one of his hands to run over Bill's shoulder and down his arm
toward the hand that still held Harry's hip. Bill strayed from Harry's mouth
to place light moist kisses over Harry's cheeks. Harry opened his eyes to
see Bill's were closed softly. The firm weight which had been pressing
against Harry's erection shifted downward suddenly. Harry gasped and arched
his neck to allow Bill to continue placing patterns of light kisses against
his skin. Bill's thumb stroked the sensitive hollow at Harry's hip.
Harry moaned despite another surge of warning waging war against the
building tension in his stomach. His hand stationed itself once more at
Bill's shoulder, squeezing as the waves of pleasure assaulted his nerve
endings, his brain, his cock. He shifted his hips to relieve some of the
tension weighing his erection down.
Bill groaned as the movement sent Harry's hips more firmly against his own
erection. Harry's breath caught once more to feel it, hard and persistent
against him. Bill's hand flew to tear down Harry's zipper.
"Bill?" Harry gasped.
Bill looked up, his eyes slightly unfocussed. He shifted off Harry and
raised his hand to stroke Harry's head soothingly. "It's all right," he
said. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. I just—" He smiled again
before leaning in once more to kiss Harry's mouth. "You don't sleep in your
jeans anyway, do you?"
Harry blinked and then sighed heavily. He shook his head, biting his lower
lip nervously. Bill smiled and then rolled onto his back to strip off his
own jeans. He peeled off his t-shirt as well leaving him in a pair of red
boxers. Reluctantly, Harry lifted his hips and slid his own jeans down past
his arse before kicking them to the foot of the bed. Bill urged him up so
that he could peel back the blankets and slide in. Harry crawled in after
him and lay stiffly on his back.
"Better, right? Are you comfortable?" Bill said sidling back over to lie
closer to Harry. He kept a careful distance, only moving his hand over to
lay flat against Harry's stomach. His finger dipped into Harry's cloth
covered navel making Harry's stomach muscles contract reflexively.
Comfortable? No. Harry was decidedly uncomfortable and torn between wanting
the man to kiss him into forgetfulness and wanting to run home as quickly as
the floo would take him. To go back to his flat, back to a world where he
was not lying half-naked in a bed with his best friend's brother. Back to a
world where he would never dream of kissing a bloke, let alone like it.
But he couldn't tell Bill all of this so he nodded instead.
Dissatisfied with the cloth separating it from Harry's skin, the hand crept
underneath to draw circles around Harry's belly button. The other fingers
stroked over the trail of hair leading into Harry's pants.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Harry turned his head to see Bill who'd apparently been watching him. Harry
wondered if the conflict of emotions he was feeling had been visible on his
face. "Er..." he said. He didn't know how to answer the question, really.
"I...it's nice," he said. "But," he exhaled in frustration.
"But you want me to stop," Bill said. He wasn't stopping and his fingers
were dipping under the waistband of Harry's shorts. Harry tried not to want
them to go further but his cock, it seemed, was trying to twitch closer to
the teasing digits.
"Not exactly," Harry said. "I'm just—"
"Scared."
"Nervous," Harry finished. "I don't want to...I mean, I like it. But I don't
think we should..."
"Shag."
"Go further." Harry heaved a sigh of relief, pleased that he managed to get
it out. Bill's fingers retreated. He smoothed Harry's t-shirt back down and
laid his hand flat once more on Harry's stomach. Harry covered Bill's hand
with his own.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm a bit mad."
"You're not mad. You're just young," Bill chuckled.
Harry bristled. That stung just a bit. He pursed his lips together and tried
to come up with a way to argue with the man.
"Harry?"
"Yeah," he said only slightly irritably.
"Would you mind if I...never mind." Bill laughed weakly and then rolled onto
his back with a groan.
Harry rolled to his side. "What?"
"I'm fucking hard as hell," Bill complained.
"Oh." Harry wrinkled his nose. He could sympathise.
"Do you mind if I...take care of it?" Bill looked at him with a wry grin.
"Oh...no! I mean...it's your room. It doesn't bother me," he said awkwardly.
"Do you want me to...er, I can go if you want."
Bill rolled over again. "Will you watch?"
Harry's eyes widened and he could feel the blush sting his cheeks. He damned
it. "Sure," he said almost too casually. He could handle watching someone
else wank. He wasn't a kid. And he had been listening to boys wank for the
last seven years. It wasn't a big deal.
He watched as Bill squirmed his way out of his underwear from beneath the
covers before lying on his back and pushing the blankets down to reveal his
erection in his hand. Harry swallowed thickly trying not to give into the
impulse to look away. He was circumcised, Harry remarked and then wondered
absently if all the Weasley boys were. Ron was. Not that Harry'd spent much
time looking. He just noticed things like this.
Bill hummed low as he slid his thumb over the head and began slowly
stroking. Harry bit his lip deciding that beyond everything he'd ever done
this was the single sexiest experience of his life. It was all he could do
not to take himself in hand, which was an urge that battled with an equally
great desire to reach over and touch the other man.
Bill, it seemed, had the same idea. He took Harry's hand in his own. Harry's
gaze jerked up to meet Bill's and Bill stared intently as he guided Harry's
hand over. Harry didn't struggle and even budged over to have a better
reach. Bill stroked as though he was in no hurry to complete the task soon.
It was nothing like the feverish yanking Harry did at night, but slow and
gentle.
Harry caressed over Bill's hand first, not knowing what exactly Bill wanted
from him. He timidly brought his fingers to the head and traced around it.
His breath hitched at the sound of Bill's hiss of encouragement. At length,
Bill stopped stroking and urged Harry's own hand to wrap around the shaft.
Harry did so nervously.
"Slow," Bill breathed and then brought his hands to Harry's face to pull him
into a kiss. Harry obeyed the command, moaning as Bill's breath came heavily
into his mouth. He stroked lazily, lacking the concentration to do the thing
properly anyway. He was almost grateful when Bill's hand plunged into his
shorts and took hold of his own erection.
"Fuck," he gasped and thrust into Bill's fist, speeding up the rhythm on
Bill's cock. But Bill stopped him just as quickly.
"I want to see you come, Harry. Please. Just let me..." He didn't finish,
but slid his hips out of Harry's reach and pushed Harry onto his back. Harry
couldn't think to struggle when his shorts were wrenched down past his hips,
nor did it occur to him to protest when he was sucked unceremoniously up
into Bill's mouth. He did cry out, however, loudly. His hand flew to Bill's
head as it slid up creating the most amazing sucking sensation and Harry
thought he could feel his wits being vacuumed out of him.
His breath squeezed out his throat in a broken and shaky groan. Bill pulled
up, giving Harry the opportunity to breathe again. A clever tongue darted
playfully over the sensitive head as Bill's hand pulled back Harry's
foreskin.
Just as Harry was beginning to embrace the reality of what was happening
Bill plunged again, robbing him of any thought he might have formed. All
subsequent thoughts were washed away a flood of pleasure. Harry whimpered
pitifully as Bill worked him over, pulling and plunging and doing the most
amazing things with his tongue whenever he'd pull up. Soon Harry was bucking
his hips and trying to drive deeper and faster into that mouth. He spread
his legs compliantly, allowing Bill to cup his balls, rolling them gently.
The finger which reached back to press firmly against the space behind his
ball was his undoing. Harry pushed hard on Bill's head as he thrust up and
came violently down Bill's throat with a raucous cry.
He trembled and spasmed as he felt the throat working to swallow and
vibrating with Bill's soft moans. The sensitivity was almost painful and
Harry tugged insistently to make the man get off him.
Eventually, Bill obeyed. Harry slipped from that exquisite wetness and Bill
crawled up to cover him, leaning down to kiss him. Bill's tongue was coated
with a salty, metallic taste now, but Harry didn't mind so much. He still
was having a bit of trouble thinking straight and allowed Bill's mouth to
lead his own in the kiss. Bill settled heavily between his thighs, which
spread accommodatingly.
"You're beautiful when you come," Bill sighed against Harry's mouth.
"Thank you," Harry moaned, kissing the words away and then thanking the man
again. And again.
Bill chuckled. "Thank you," he said. He pulled back to look at Harry.
Harry gave a sated grin. "That was brilliant," Harry breathed.
"No one ever did that for you before?" Bill asked, furrowing his brow.
Harry snorted and shook his head.
Bill gave a disapproving grunt and then shifted up to press his lips to
Harry's forehead. But Harry wasn't thinking about that contact, attention
now quite focussed on Bill's cock nudging behind his balls. Harry decided
that he wanted to repay the favour, though he wasn't certain he could do
what Bill had just done to him. He didn't even know where to begin and
something that amazing, he imagined, took a fair amount of talent.
"I'd like to make you come too," Harry whispered, wrinkling his nose against
Bill's shoulder. He kissed the man's neck and willed away the blush.
Bill pulled back to look at him. "You would?"
Harry nodded. "It's the least I can do," he smiled.
Bill kissed him again, softly. Nipping at his lips gently with his teeth. "I
don't want you to do anything you don't want to do," he said, driving his
words into Harry's mouth with his tongue.
"I want to," Harry whispered back once he was able to speak again.
"You want to what?" Bill breathed, burrowing his face into Harry's neck
again, biting harder now. A hand wrenched Harry's t-shirt up and Bill moaned
as he settled his belly against Harry's.
"I want to make you feel good," Harry whispered. His hand ran over Bill's
back and shoulders, pressing firmly into the muscles.
"I want to be inside you," Bill said hotly into his ear.
Harry's eyes snapped open. He tensed uncomfortably under the other man and
became all too aware of the thick head of Bill's shaft inching closer to
achieving that goal.
Bill must have sensed the tension because he pulled his hips down a bit,
continuing to lick and suck at Harry's neck. "Haven't I made you feel good?"
he breathed. His hands slid under Harry's t-shirt. A thumb stroked teasingly
at Harry's nipple. "I promise, Harry, you'll love it..." His teeth scraped
over Harry's earlobe. "And if you don't, I'll stop. I'll just stick it in a
little. And if you want me to stop... You know I wouldn't hurt you," he
said, coming up to meet Harry's eyes. "Right?"
Harry took a deep breath and shifted his eyes away. He was hopelessly torn
between not wanting to disappoint Bill and being terrified at the prospect
of... But he'd already gone this far, and... He liked Bill, but...
Harry closed his eyes tightly. "I know. I just..." Harry's fingers played
nervously at the skin of Bill's shoulder, tracing along Bill's collarbone
and up his neck. "I want to make you feel good. But I can't...do...that." He
opened his eyes a bit to measure Bill's response, kicking himself at the
exasperated sigh Bill heaved.
Bill rolled off of him. Harry felt suddenly very cold. He turned to his side
to see the man staring up at the ceiling. He slid his hand over timidly.
Bill caught it before Harry could lay it on the other man's chest. Bill
squeezed the hand before dropping it to the bed.
"Sorry," Harry whispered.
"Don't be. It's fine."
"I could try...you know...with my mouth," Harry offered hopefully.
Bill turned his head, his eyes running over Harry's face. He smirked and
shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "You should sleep." Bill
rolled over, turning his back to Harry.
Harry felt sick. And a bit angry. At Bill for being so damn...stubborn. And
at himself for being such a coward. Honestly, what was he afraid of? That
getting shagged would make him gay, when it came down to it. As though
getting sucked off didn't already set him on the road to being gay. As
though spending the past however long it had been snogging a bloke didn't
quite seal the fact.
Harry rolled over desolately and stared up at the ceiling. Bill didn't seem
angry, he thought. Disappointed. He probably thought Harry was a scared
little virgin. It wouldn't be so far from the truth. And after all he'd done
for Harry, taking care of him because he got too pissed, all the kissing,
the amazing blow job...
"All right," Harry said nervously. The air went still to listen. "You'll
stop if I don't..."
Bill rolled over. "You don't have to do this, Harry. I don't want you to
think—"
"No, I want to. I just..." Harry wrinkled his nose and exhaled sharply. He
was about to appeal to Bill to go slowly, but Bill kissed him before he got
the chance. Harry kissed back eagerly, thankful to have done with the
tension and the guilt in favour of this alarmingly familiar and intoxicating
feeling of exploring Bill's mouth.
Bill broke away quickly. "Wait," he whispered before retreating off the bed.
Harry raised himself to his elbows when he heard the man rummaging through
his sack. Bill was back on the bed with a jar before the sheets could even
cool. He placed the jar within arm's reach and straddled Harry's hips. Harry
lifted his arms as Bill raised his shirt. Bill dropped it to the side
carelessly and then pushed Harry back to the bed.
Harry tried not to think about what they were going to do. What he was going
to do. He had never spent a huge amount of time wondering about his
virginity, but in those rare moments he had wondered when he would get rid
of it, he never pictured it like this. Never with a bloke. And certainly
never with Bill Weasley.
Not really.
In fact, all the fleeting fantasies he'd had about Bill Weasley had already
been fulfilled. And then some. And now, here he was, naked with the man,
watching as he spread some sort of goop over his dick. Harry swallowed back
a frightened whimper.
"Relax," Bill whispered, leaning down to kiss Harry lightly. "It'll be
brilliant. You'll see." Harry nodded and took a deep breath, closing his
eyes. Bill shifted off him. "Roll onto your stomach," he said softly before
stretching onto his side.
Harry slowly obeyed. He folded his hands under his forehead. He was trying
to relax, honestly. But every time he wasn't deliberately relaxing them, his
muscles seem to contract and tighten all on their own until he was
shivering. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Bill
stroked down the length of his spine with his knuckles, turning his hand
over when he reached Harry's tailbone. His fingers seemed to be coated with
the lubricant he'd already spread over his erection. He rubbed over the
puckered entrance and chuckled when Harry jerked reflexively.
"Just relax," Bill cooed. Harry felt the press of lips at his shoulder and
then the mouth continue to kiss as that finger swirled round and round.
"Spread your legs a bit," Bill said shakily. He scraped his teeth lightly
over Harry's shoulder blade. "That's it," he sighed. "Look at me," he urged.
Harry turned his head to the side as Bill laid his head on the pillow in
front of him. He couldn't quite meet Bill's eye.
"I need to get some of this inside you," Bill said softly.
Harry closed his eyes tightly and held his breath. He nodded and waited for
that finger that way wiping the stuff over his hole to enter. He bit his lip
when it prodded at the centre and pressed inside. Harry heard Bill give a
shaky sigh and opened his eyes to him watching Harry with a rapt expression,
breathing heavily through an open mouth. He grinned when Harry's eyes met
his. "You're so tight," Bill breathed, closing his eyes.
It felt weird, Harry decided. Not bad, but weird. He inhaled sharply as the
finger slid in further and shivered slightly when it withdrew a bit. Harry
tensed again when he realised that Bill was about to add another finger. His
hands clenched reflexively at the sheets and he spread his legs further as
though to make more room. But there was no making room. He could feel
himself stretching wider than he ever though possible and panted as the
fingers fit in to the second knuckle.
Harry pressed his forehead once more against his hands, letting the knuckles
dig into his skull as Bill started moving his fingers in and out with small
movements. Harry could feel himself getting hard again and a strange sort of
ache began in his arse. Before long he was whimpering. Bill was moving his
fingers in circles, stretching and loosening him, but Harry wanted more.
More movement. The ache was building and Harry couldn't say what that meant
except that he wanted more. He pulled his knees up, forgetting about pride
and shame and wanting only that those fingers do more.
Bill was stirring beside him, moving around to kneel in back of him. The
fingers were gone and the maddening ache increased in their absence. Harry
raised his head, breathing roughly and looked over his shoulder to see Bill
positioning himself. He placed a hand on Harry's hip as the thick head
squeezed between the cheeks, feeling for the hole.
Harry tensed again. It was too big, he thought. There was no way it was
going to fit. "Bill?" he squeaked in a moment of panic.
Both of Bill's hands were stationed on Harry's hips now. He was pressing
forward—and it wasn't going to work. Harry clenched his jaw and squeezed his
eyes shut. He felt as though if Bill's erection was going to fit in there,
it would surely take half the skin on Harry's arse with it.
Bill thrust hard suddenly, pulling Harry's hips back into him. Harry could
feel the cock tear past the thick ring of muscles and all his breath escaped
him as though he'd been punched in the stomach.
"Fuck," he heard Bill swear behind him. He pressed in a bit further,
breathing hard.
Harry could feel the shape of the erection, as it speared into him, scraping
along the sensitive flesh inside. It was too much all of a sudden. Something
wasn't right. "Wait," Harry panted, trying to crawl away from it.
"Nowaitstop."
Bill held his hips firmly. "What?" he breathed.
"It...it hurts," Harry choked.
Bill stroked Harry's back consolingly, but made no move to pull out. "Just
relax," he said. "It only hurts for a minute or so. You feel so good,
Harry," he groaned, pulling back a bit before sliding in further. The deeper
he went, Harry discovered, the less it hurt. When he was all the way in,
Bill slumped over Harry's curled spine and kissed Harry at the back of the
neck.
"All right?" he exhaled heavily
Harry drew in a gasping breath and unclenched his jaw to say, "Think so.
Just wait...wait a minute," he panted.
"You feel incredible," Bill sighed. He began moving his hips in small
circles like he had with his fingers. It was so odd, Harry thought, to feel
someone moving inside there, tickling at places Harry never even
really thought about. Gradually the burning and sensitivity seemed to give
over to that achy feeling that made Harry's head spin and his breath come
erratically. "Fuck, Harry, I have to—"
Bill pulled out and slammed back in so hard that Harry had to put up his
hands to keep from falling face first into the mattress. He was prepared for
the second thrust though, and tensed up as Bill's hips slapped against his
own. The third time he rocked back to meet it.
Bills hands were at his hips again and bringing him back as he bucked his
hips forward. It wasn't tender inside at all anymore and the harder Bill
went inside him, the faster Harry wanted it. He stopped thinking all
together when Bill stroked past something inside him something that made him
fall back to the bed as a surge of sensation liquefied his bones. He was
breathing so hard he might have been hyperventilating, which would explain
his light-headedness. He only vaguely heard Bill tell him to touch himself,
but it was all he could do to keep from passing out, so he didn't bother
with it.
He felt Bill reach around and another jolt of bone-dissolving pleasure
wracked through his body. The pace grew a bit slower as Bill stroked his
erection, and Harry wanted it to go faster again. He reached down and shooed
Bill's hand away. "Just fuck me," he growled and might have been embarrassed
for it, if he could be bothered to think about what he'd said. But as he
couldn't, he fell to his elbow to stabilise himself and pulled himself to
the same fast rhythm that Bill fucked him.
Bill was murmuring a stream of nonsense and Harry was certain he was
answering in some fashion, but the only thing he could concentrate on was
the cock catapulting pleasure into and throughout his body and the fierce
rhythm with which he was stroking himself. Soon he felt everything tense up
all at once, he felt himself squeeze hard around Bill and then everything
went momentarily black as he shot. His mouth opened to let out a scream that
never made it past his lungs. His head fell to the bed when Bill drew out
and thrust back in again and then again and again until he cried out with
his own climax, falling forward and pulling Harry down into him by his
shoulders. Harry couldn't tell if the spasms were coming from him or from
Bill anymore. All he knew was that his body had effectively turned to mush
and that he might easily sleep through the summer if he ever woke up at all.
Harry thought he might have dozed off when he felt the body that had curled
tightly around him, keeping him warm and safe, stir. Harry opened his eyes
and made a face when he felt Bill slip from him. "All right?" Bill asked
gruffly. Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and stretched his legs painfully
when Bill got up from him. He winced as the blood returned to his calves. He
was lying in something wet, he realised, but decided he didn't care enough
to move.
"Here."
Harry opened an eye to see Bill handing him a towel. He was wiping himself
off with another. Harry tried to reach for it, but couldn't get his arm to
move. He'd never felt so bloody tired in all his life. Bill chuckled and
then urged Harry's legs open again. Harry gave a complaining grunt, but
otherwise didn't fight it. The warm wetness felt brilliant against his skin.
It occurred to Harry to wonder where it came from, but he reckoned some
magic was done to procure it. Reality came smashing into the grogginess of
his brain when he felt the towel slide down the crack of his arse. Some part
of his ego shot up and demanded that Harry wipe his own arse, for fuck's
sake. The rest of him couldn't be fucked to move, though. Harry gave a groan
of dissent, but that was all the dignified response he could manage before
it was all done with.
Harry drifted to sleep before his unlikely lover stretched out beside him.
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