They do not kiss. Will only kisses Lyra, and then only in his dreams. He steadfastly refuses to kiss anyone else, probably forever. He refuses to love anyone else, definitely forever. But Will is no longer thirteen, curious and so very young. He craves Lyra's touch.
He settles for hers.
Will is nineteen the first time. He has grown tall and broad-shouldered like his father, with the same dark, piercing, compelling eyes. He studies physics at Exeter in Oxford, always seeking, craving Lyra.
She feels guilty for acknowledging that he is attractive. She's twice his age, and no one can be the person he needs. She is not insulted to be considered an adequate substitute, when he boldly tells her, as they clean up the dishes after supper, that she ought to suck his cock. She hates that she loves it.
This routine—dinner and fellatio—continues for some months before he turns her over the sofa and fucks her. He isn't nice, and he isn't gentle. He is big. She doesn't know if he and Lyra ever had sex. The urgency with which he fucks her leads her to believe that they didn't.
He hates himself after. She can see it in his eyes. He needs Lyra, not someone he can pretend, for just a few moments, is her. But he keeps coming back, keeps fucking her. Over time, he starts to care if she enjoys herself or not. After six years, he asks her to marry him.
She agrees, and does not complain when he continues to call her 'Lyra' when they fuck. She loves him too much to care what he calls her.
Mary Malone does not change her name after the wedding. Mary Parry sounds daft, after all, and it's silly to change ones name when you've never even kissed.