Five years ago when I blasted Voldemort to bits, I never thought my life would come to this.  Oh, yes, I reckoned on the reporters, the fans, the notoriety even worse than during most of my childhood.  I never reckoned on being a 23-year-old virgin.  There have been plenty of offers to help me with that – not that anyone knows it’s my burden.

Ginny Weasley would if she were still alive.  The night we attempted to “relieve my burden” was terribly embarrassing, believe me.

She was the one who figured out why I went out with her, why I was a non-starter with her:  Ron.  I don’t want to believe that her anger with me, over the fact I wanted her brother more than her, drove her to meet with Malfoy a day later.  Malfoy Senior returned her head the following week.

No one blamed me but myself.

So now I find myself at Neville’s bachelor party.  With Ron.  Neville, who will marry Hermione in two days, and Ron, who is without an “other” right now, but is having his tonsils inspected by Colin Creevey.  Yes, what adds to my self-torment is that, after the war, Ron told Hermione, his family and I that he was gay.  I’d known I am since our piecemeal seventh year but had told no one.  After all, I doubt the Wizarding world would want to be saved by someone queer.  However enlightened the Muggle world is becoming, the Wizarding world is one hundred years behind.

Colin turns to me.  “Do you want a kiss, too?”

“No,” I reply shortly.  I don’t know where Colin’s lips have been before Ron’s.  Tipping my Guinness to my lips, I sigh.  Guinness is hard to come by in the Wizarding world, but most pubs know it’s my preferred drink and stock some just in case.  It’s a nice perk.

I feel my regular depression settling upon me like a blanket.  I’m not fit company.

“Hey, Nev!” I call to the other end of the table.

Neville pulls his eyes away from the dancers on stage.  “Yeah?”

“Gonna go,” I shout.  He raises his eyebrows, I shake my head.  I can’t sustain looking happy any longer, despite having my oldest and dearest friends, more family now than the one I was born into, around me.

I see his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, but he waves me off.

The Apparition point is at the back of the club past the toilets.

“Harry, wait up!” Ron calls.

I don’t know if I can deal with him either.

He grabs my arm, turning me around so fast that I slam my back into the wall.

Rubbing the back of my head, I look up at Ron.  “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Why are you running out?”

I raise my eyebrows, annoyed.  “I’m not running.  What does it matter to you?”

He takes a step back, crosses his arms over his chest and eyes me.  “Why wouldn’t it matter?”

My eyes are fixated on how his shirt stretches across his chest, the flexing of his forearms below his rolled-up sleeves, and the heat in his gaze.  He’s tormenting me and doesn’t even know it.

“Look,” I begin on an exasperated sigh.  “I don’t want to ruin Nev’s party.”  I shove a hand through my hair.  I need a way out.  Having Ron crowd me in this small hallway is making me feel distinctly claustrophobic.

“Why would you ruin his party?  He invited you because he wants you here.”

What can I say?  That I can’t stand to be around happy people right now?  That I’m so desperate to be free of my virginity that I’m considering a prostitute?  That I’m feeling depression pressing down on me like a terrible weight?

I say none of that.  Instead, I say, “I’m tired, Ron.  I’m going.”  Pushing my way around him, ignoring the thrill I feel at his touch and smell, I take the half-dozen steps to the Apparition point.

He grabs my arm just as I Disapparate, forcing me to add power to the spell so I can Side-Along him.  The effort takes enough out of me that I collapse when we get to my flat.

He falls to the floor next to me.  “What the fuck was that, Harry?”

I can’t catch my breath.  Side-Along normally doesn’t tax my system, but when it’s unplanned, I obviously have a problem with it.

“Harry?”

I want to rail at him but even if I had the breath, I don’t have the heart.

“Why did you do that?” I demand, still breathless.

He gets to his knees to stare at me.  “Why did you run away?”

“Why did you follow me?”  Now I’m just getting angry.  What the hell difference does it make to him if I run away?

“Why are you arguing with me?”

“I don’t know!” I shout back at him.

He sighs heavily.  “What’s going on with you, Harry?”  He sounds as tired as I feel.

I sit up, having caught my breath and recovered from the unexpected magic.  “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harry,” Ron growls.  “There’s something going on with you.”

I want to smack him and kiss him.  Then more.  The “more” is something I can only imagine because I haven’t experienced it.

A smile involuntarily quirks my lips as an odd thought crosses my mind:  why is it called “losing your virginity” when you don’t want it back?

“Harry?” Ron asks tentatively as if talking to someone mental.

Against the screaming of my inner censor, I voice my thought.  Ron freezes, staring at me like I’ve suddenly begun speaking Bulgarian.  At Ron’s reaction it feels as if a switch has been thrown and recklessness overrides my impending depression.  If I can get him off-balance enough, maybe he’ll give in to me or just pounce me.  I barely stifle a groan at the idea of being pounced by Ron.

“You’re right,” I say, meeting his eyes.

He blinks.  I’ve completely thrown him off-balance.  Swallowing nervously, he asks, “Right about what?”

“There’s something going on with me.”

He tips his head to the side, studying me.  “What is it?”

I run my tongue over my lips, enjoying the way his eyes fix on my lips.  Feeling quite Slytherin suddenly, I murmur, “I’m tired of being a virgin.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.

“Ron?”

He shifts his eyes to mine.  “Virgin?”

I nod.

Stirring him up more, I add, “Never been kissed.”

I think he stops breathing for a moment.

“What  ”  His voice cracks.  Clearing his throat, he continues, “What about Cho?”

I raise my eyebrows.  “Do you think Cho counts?”

“What about Ginny?”  The name is choked out of him.  He’s obviously still having problems with the fact I dated his sister.

“A couple kisses,” I reply.  I was never comfortable kissing her despite the fact I tried to shag her, but I’m not telling Ron that.

“Then how can you say you’ve never been kissed?”

Throwing caution to the wind, I answer, “I’ve never been kissed by someone I desire, someone who gets me hard, someone I want to shag senseless.”

He blinks furiously as he processes my words.  I know the exact moment he starts putting together all the hints because a flush rises from his neck to his cheeks.

“Me?” he asks softly.

“You,” I confirm.  If he rejects me, I’m not quite sure what I’ll do.  I’ve thrown away my safety net and am flying blind.  Flying is something I excel at, though, so I’m not as worried as I should be.  Then again, I could be insane.

He stares at me for a long minute.  The longer the silence goes on, the more uncomfortable I feel.  I shouldn’t have said anything.  He’s going to hate me.

Courage fading as quickly as my dreams are crashing to the ground, I try to stand.  My attempt to scramble up off the floor is halted by his hand on my arm.  I sink down once again.

He meets my eyes almost shyly.  “You must need some teaching.”

I swallow.  Hard.  The look in his eyes is nearly pure lust.  My voice quavers when I ask, “Teaching?”

He leans toward me, just barely entering my personal space.  “About how to kiss.”

“Of course,” I breathe.  My heart is pounding so fast and loud, I’m surprised Ron can’t hear it as well.

He stands abruptly, brushing his jeans off, before offering a hand to me.  Curious, I take his hand and ask no questions.  He leads me down the hall to my bedroom.  We’re barely through the door when he closes it and pushes me against it.

It’s all I can do not to moan.

Bracing his hands on either side of my shoulders, body inches from mine shoulders to toes, his breath on my face, he murmurs, “Ready for your first lesson?”

I lick my lips involuntarily.  His eyes dart down, then up to meet mine and hold them.  Arousal and lust burn there, arousing me even further.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he orders.  I comply, feeling the heat of his body through his cotton shirt.  “Part your legs a bit.”  I wonder what this has to do with kissing – until I part them and he wedges a thigh between mine, pressing against my hard cock.

“Relax,” he murmurs.  I start to scoff at the order when he cuts me off with a kiss.

I freeze for a moment, stunned, then tighten my fingers on his shoulders.  He takes a half-step forward to press me full-body against the door, tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and has me completely at his mercy.  I think the moan I hear is mine, but I’m not positive.

Ron slowly backs away, ending the kiss.  My eyes flutter open, making me feel atrociously feminine.

“You’re very teachable,” he says softly, smiling.

I get no chance to reply before he leans in again.  He traces my lips with this tongue, coaxing them open.  As soon as I part my lips in more of a gasp than anything, he eases his tongue into my mouth.  This time I know the moan is mine.  His body presses mine hard against the door, his thigh against my cock, his cock throbbing against my hip.  He slides one hand from the door into my hair, tangling and tugging.

I sag at the onslaught, held upright only by his body.

He breaks off the kiss, leaving me gasping.  “Ready for the next step?”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

He laughs darkly.  “Not quite.”

He waits until I’m steady on my feet to release me and step back.  I watch with hooded eyes as he backs up onto the bed.  I’m frozen in place against the door until he props himself up on the pillows, bent arms levering his upper body up high enough to watch me.

“What do you want, Harry?” he asks, voice low and tantalizing.

I swallow hard, suddenly unable to voice my thoughts.

“Tell me, Harry,” he orders.

I bite my lower lip.  Ron smiles, but it’s a predatory smile.  He shifts just enough so his weight is on his left arm and side, bends his left leg, then slides his right hand over his chest and down.  He stops at his waistband.

“Tell me,” he orders more forcefully.

My voice is little more than a choked whisper when I answer, “I want you.”

He raises his eyebrows as he lowers his hand to stroke himself once.

“Tell me more.”

Damn you, Ron.  “I want to feel you against me.”

“You have.”

“Naked.”  The image makes my knees weak.

He strokes himself again.  “Go on.”

“I want your cock against mine.”

With his right hand, he unfastens his jeans before reaching into them to fist himself.  I know he wants me to continue, but my brain has short-circuited.

“Mouth,” I whimper.  I want to tell him I can imagine him kneeling before me, those smirking lips wrapped around my cock, fingers on my arse.  If I could find my voice, I’d tell him.

He slips his jeans lower, revealing Chudley orange boxers.  I stifle my grin of amusement.  Idly stroking himself just enough to stay hard but not get off, he eyes me up and down.

“Strip,” he orders.  I raise my eyebrows.  “Strip,” he repeats, voice low.

Swallowing hard, incredibly nervous once again, I unbutton my shirt with trembling hands.  A smile plays at the corners of his mouth, both amusement and pleasure.  The idea he’s receiving pleasure from seeing me is as much a turn-on as me watching him.  I slip my shirt from my shoulders then drop it to the ground.

Though Ron and I have seen each other naked in locker rooms and dorm rooms, it was never sexual.  Well, not for him that I’m aware of; it was for me a few times, providing the material for more than a few wet dreams.  But with his eyes devouring my every movement, I wonder about how much he watched me – and realize it was probably just as much as I watched him.

Bending my head to the task, I unfasten my belt.  Slipping it from its loops, I can feel the tension in the room rise again.  I look up and it’s all I can do not to choke on my gasp.

Ron is stripped down to his boxers.

He waves his right hand at me.  “All the way, Harry.”

Fuck, I’m nervous.  Why?  Normally I leap before I look, not obsess about possibilities.  Is it because it’s Ron?

It takes three tries to unfasten my jeans.  Before tugging them off, I toe off my shoes, kick them aside, then reach down to yank off my socks.  With a deep breath, I straighten, shoving down my jeans at the same time.  Only after I kick them aside do I look up.

Ron is on his hands and knees on the bed, facing me.  He looks absolutely feral.  If I weren’t already nearly inside the door, I’d back up further.

“Come here, Harry,” he all but purrs.

I’m frozen.

He smiles wickedly, reaching out with one hand to grab my arm.  He tugs me closer until he can flip me onto the bed.

I wonder what Neville’s doing right now.  I blink.  Why the hell am I thinking about him?

Shaking my head slightly, I meet Ron’s eyes.  He’s ranged himself over me, straddling my thighs and hands planted on the mattress beside my shoulders.  The material of our boxers are the only things separating us.  I can feel the heat of his body and revel in it.

“Ready for the next lesson?” he growls in my ear.

I shudder.  All my skin feels stretched too taut over my body, hypersensitive and longing for Ron’s touch.  His breath against my ear is delight and torment.

With a shudder at that sensation – he hasn’t moved – I try to formulate my reply.  My voice is disgustingly breathless when I answer, “Yes, I’m ready.”

Ron traces the cord of my neck with his tongue.  My cock feels trapped by the cloth of my boxers after lust slams through my body.

“Ron,” I moan, clutching at his back in an effort to bring him flat atop me.

He straightens just enough to grip my biceps, his touch electric.  I lick my lips and smile at his slight moan.  In retaliation, he slides his hands down my arms, lifting them above my head at the same time.  He just skims my skin, the touch enough to keep that electric sizzle burning inside me.

Once both arms are above my head, hands on the headboard, Ron releases me.  Settling back on my thighs, he eyes me hungrily.

“Keep your hands there.  This is for you.”

My fingers curl involuntarily around the crossbar of the headboard.

“I want to touch you,” I whisper.  He’s so close...and is tormenting me.

“Later, I promise.”  The leer in his words reassures me.  “Your first lessons involve being touched, not touching.”  When I arch upward trying to rub our cocks together, he raises one eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Do I have to tie you down?  That’s a very advanced lesson.”

I nearly come at the sudden image of being tied spread-eagle to the bed and completely at Ron’s mercy.

“Please,” I gasp.

Ron studies me for what feels like ten minutes but what is truthfully more like ten seconds.  Finally, he relaxes his arms and smirks.

“You always were one to leap before you look,” he murmurs, climbing off the bed.  He rummages in his pile of clothing for a moment – offering me a lovely view of his orange-covered arse – then straightens, wand in hand.

He raises an eyebrow again.  I nod, biting my lower lip in anticipation.

He waves his wand over me head to toe, murmuring a spell at each wrist and ankle.  My limbs are pulled to the corners of the bed, a silk rope tethering each to the bed frame.

I tug against the bindings, testing them.  There’s a bit of play, but I won’t get free without Ron releasing me or wandless magic.  I’m a Ron’s mercy.  The idea makes me groan gutturally, aroused beyond belief.

“All right?” Ron asks.

“All right,” I respond, voice low.  I’m tempted to ask for a blindfold as well, but dismiss the idea.  For now.

Ron crouches between my spread legs, studying me.  I’m torn between embarrassment and arousal at his frank gaze.

“You know you’re mine,” Ron murmurs.  I bite back a moan at the thought.  I don’t know if his words are a question or a statement until he demands, “Right?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

He bares his teeth in a possessive grin.  “Good.”

A few whispered words and a wave of his wand leave us both naked.  Once again, I’m torn between embarrassment and arousal until I meet his eyes.  Lust burns brightly there along with something else.  It would be terribly girlish to want that something else to be love.

After dropping his wand on the floor beside the bed, he rests his hands on my knees.  I tremble.  He smiles.

With deliberate slowness, he runs his hands up my legs.  I quiver under his touch, wanting to beg for more but afraid to break this spell he’s put me under.  I want his hands – his mouth – on my cock but I’m also afraid that if he touches me I’ll come.

I shouldn’t have worried.  When he reaches the juncture of my hip and thigh, he skims the outside of my hips until he touches my sides, bypassing my cock all together.  I tremble once then subside.  He’s going to torment me.  He trails a hand over my stomach so lightly it almost tickles, but strongly enough that my muscles twitch in response.

His fingertips ghost upward, just touching my skin, until he reaches my nipples.  At first touch, they pebble, aching to be touched more forcefully.  Ron tips his head to the side, studying me, then grins.  I bite my lower lip and moan.  He grips my nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, twisting slightly.

Gasping, trembling and moaning, I arch upward off the bed.

“Responsive,” Ron observes.  He sounds pleased.

“Ron, please,” I moan, begging.

“Please what?”

I open eyes I didn’t know I’d closed.  “More.”

He twists my nipples again.  I writhe within the bonds of the silken ropes.  I didn’t know my nipples were so sensitive – they’d always seemed like vestigial afterthoughts on a man’s body.  Until now.

Ron releases my nipples, making me whimper in disappointment.  He calls his wand to him – he, Hermione and I long ago learned that much wandless magic – and conjures two items connected with a chain.

Holding them up, he asks, “Do you know what these are, Harry?”

They don’t look like much.  “No.”

He grins wickedly.  “Nipple clamps.”

Heat flashes through me, leaving me trembling in its wake.  My cock twitches violently enough that it leaves a wet spot of pre-come on my abdomen.

Ron sets to work.  He almost lovingly places a clamp on each nipple, then tightens each of them.  The pinch is pleasure and pain all at once.

“All right?” he asks.

I nod, panting.  Can’t come yet...can’t come yet....

He tugs the chain.  The fire that shoots through me sends me tumbling over the edge.  I pant his name as I come, coating my stomach and his hands with my release.

I feel my embarrassed blush creep upward until I meet his eyes once again.  He’s not disappointed.  If anything, he’s even more aroused.

“You’re a quick learner,” he murmurs.  I open my mouth to respond, but it dissolves into a groan when he brings his hands to his mouth and licks them clean.

My arousal is heightened further.  By the time his hands are free of my come, my cock is as hard and aching as it was before my climax.  I swear I get even harder when he moves back and bends his head.

I’m tugging so hard on the restraints at my wrists that I can feel the abrasions the silk is cutting into my skin, but I don’t care.  The pain just increases the pleasure.

Ron’s breath ghosts over the drying damp on my stomach.  At the first touch of his tongue to my skin it’s all I can do not to pull free of my bonds.  By the time he’s cleaned me of my release, I’m nearly ready to come again.

When he moves three inches lower and wraps his mouth around my cock, I come.  He sucks and swallows as I pump into his mouth.

I should say something, do something, but I can only lay boneless upon the bed.  Ron, who I know is looking smug even though I can’t see him, rests his cheek against my stomach.  His warm breath brushes against my cock, gently urging it back to life once again.

“Ron,” I moan.  I’m not sure if his name is a sound of contentment, a plea for more or a plea for less.

He turns his head to look up at me.  Holy hell, the look in his eye is enough to scorch me.

“Yes, Harry?”  His voice is pitched low enough that I feel the rumble of it against my skin even as my ears hear the words.

I run my tongue over my parched lips, delighting in the flare of his eyes.

“More,” I whisper.  If I’m going to spontaneously combust from this, I might as well enjoy it to the fullest.

“An eager student,” he murmurs, pleased.

He straightens, kneeling between my spread thighs, and licks his lips.  Knowing he’s tasting me there sends a jolt of arousal through me, making my cock twitch again.

“Ready for the final lesson, or do you want other lessons first?”

The angle is wrong for me to see his cock, but by the subtle tension in his body, I can tell he must be quite hard.  Am I ready for him to fuck me?  I know he’s ready.  I’m not sure what his other lessons might entail – giving him a blow job, perhaps? – but the way he bites his lip and runs his fingers over my thighs guide my answer.

“Fuck me, Ron,” I growl.

He stifles his gasp, but not before I see the hitch in his breathing.  Yes, I have noticed the expanse of his chest.  I want to know how it will feel pressed against mine skin to skin.

“I want you inside me, Ron,” I beg.  “Please.”

He stares blankly at me for a moment as if I wasn’t speaking English.  Giving his head a fierce shake, he bends down, holding himself just above me.

In my ear, breath hot on my neck, he whispers, “You want me to fuck you, Harry?”

“Yes,” I whimper, arching upward in a desperate attempt to touch him.

Moving slightly, his mouth descends upon mine, devouring me.  Our tongues duel and it drives me closer to the edge.

He distracts me so completely that I don’t notice he’s prepping me until he breaches me with a finger.  I tense, my gasp breaking our kiss.

Ron presses kisses down my jaw.  “Relax, Harry,” he murmurs softly.

There’s pain but it’s slowly replaced with pleasure as he works his finger in and out.  At my first moan, he simultaneously adds a second finger and sucks on the cord of my neck.

The electric sensation that nearly overwhelmed me before crashes through me once again.  I clamp down on Ron’s fingers and arch hard against my bonds.  Ron changes from sucking on my neck to long swipes with the flat of his tongue.  I gradually relax.  As soon as I release the grip on Ron’s fingers, he beings to slowly thrust them in and out.

Fuck, if his fingers feel like this, having his cock inside me will blow my mind.

My lips are dry from panting, forcing me to lick them before I can speak.

“Please, Ron,” I beg, voice becoming hoarse.

He levers himself up to meet my eyes.  His are now a dark blue, his pupils dilated with arousal, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks.

And he’s never been more beautiful to me.

“Please what?”  His voice has dropped an octave to little more than a husky growl.

“Fuck me,” I plead, pressing against his fingers.  “Don’t worry about prepping me.”

His eyebrows briefly disappear into his hairline.  I mouth please again.  His responding smile is little more than a possessive bearing of teeth.

He pulls his fingers from me, making me hiss in brief pain.  He cleans them with a spell before whispering another charm I’ve never heard.  It must be a lubrication spell because he liberally coats my arse and his cock with lube.  A whispered Finite releases my ankles from their silken bonds, leaving me free to wrap them around his waist.

I bite my lip in nervous anticipation when I feel the head of his cock at my opening.  Bending my right leg, I hook it more firmly around him, heel on his arse urging him on.

His grip on my hips tightens just before he pulls me onto him and thrusts inside at the same time.

I arch hard against my wrist bonds at the pain.

“You okay?” Ron asks, a nervous thread in his voice.

I nod sharply.  “Just give me a minute.”

Ron gives me that minute, making the time pass by stroking my thighs.  The sharp pain of his intrusion slowly dissipates, leaving behind a tension that rides the edge of pain and pleasure.

I moan his name on a breathless whisper.

He rightfully takes that as his signal to move.  He withdraws and thrusts once.  Electric arousal shoots through me at the motion.  My erection, which had flagged at Ron’s initial thrust, surges again, throbbing erratically with my pounding heart.

“You feel so good, Harry,” Ron rasps.  He leans forward, bracing himself by putting his hands on either side of my chest.  It changes the angle of his next thrust, making me see stars as I nearly come.

I won’t last long I can tell.  Despite the pain of his entry, having Ron fuck me is driving me perilously close to my third climax.  Actually, I’m surprised Ron’s lasted this long.

“Harder,” I beg shamelessly.

Ron drops his head, panting.  Before I can anticipate it, he grabs the chain linking the nipple clamps in his teeth and tugs.

I arch upward hard as I come, coating his stomach and chest as well as mine with my release.  He snaps his hips just a few times, then drives into me hard, pulsing his own release into my arse.

With a soft groan, he lets go of the chain just before his head falls to my shoulder.

We’re both a complete mess.  I’m going to be sore as hell tomorrow for the wedding.

And I don’t care.

“Ron?”

He grunts.

“Ron, can you untie me?”

“Hmm?” he mumbles, lifting his head.  I shake my arms.  “Oh, sorry.”  He Summons his wand then frees me with a wave and a whisper.

Sure enough, I have rope burns on my wrists.  Ron grabs my left arm and presses a kiss to the burn.

“Sorry.”

I grin.  “Don’t be, I like it.”  He raises his eyebrows at me again.  “Reminds me I’m yours.”

He stare for a moment before dissolving into another of those possessive grins.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he growls before capturing my lips with his.

I’ll just wear long sleeves and sit down during the entire reception then, I think to myself as I arch against Ron and purr in delight.