A/N: I'm not sure if I can post it because I'm not sure if it should be rated MA or just M... so yea, like be prepared.
Chapter One
It was pissing outside. I mean real mean pissing, soaking everyone right through within the first ten seconds of being outside. The clouds were hanging dangerously low, with full, grey bellies, ready to open up and pour upon unsuspecting people as they walked the dingy streets of London. Most people held black umbrellas above their heads while some unlucky bystanders such as myself, pulled their jackets over their head to block the cold droplets of water that splattered the ground.
That particular day of pouring rain started out like any other day for myself. I woke up to friend my best friend/roommate passed out on the couch with that week's whore splayed out next to him. I quickly threw a quilt over their nude bodies before moving into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee to wake up my system. There was a message on the answering machine from Mione who had called to remind us of Ginny's rehearsal dinner which was that night.
Two months earlier, Draco Malfoy had proposed to Ginny, shattering Harry's dreams of ever being with her and making me angrier than I had ever been in my entire life. Even though Draco Malfoy ended up being a good guy (don't know how that ever happened), it turned out that my baby sister and him had been having a secret affair ever since Harry told Ginny that he couldn't risk her getting hurt while Voldemort was on the rampage.
Mione, by the way, married our potion's professor, Severus Snape, five months after we graduated Hogwarts six years ago. You can guess how much that stung considering we had a pretty good relationship our seventh year of Hogwarts. She obviously didn't feel the same way. She now has two sons with the greasy git.
Looney Luna got married too to no one other than Neville Longbottom. Now, I have to admit, they are a good pair. I'm happy for them, really, and so is Harry, but we're screwed. Right, so, my love life isn't that great. It's no where near Harry's who has a new girl every third day. But, I guess being a hero helps. Not a side-kick.
Right, so Mione left a message. I downed my cuppa before I moved back into my room to gather fresh robes before I took a shower. Harry stepped into the bathroom a few minuets after I had started my shower, taking a piss but not flushing the toilet before he left to change. I finished my shower, flushed the toilet, got dressed, and pocketed my wand before exiting my bedroom to leave for work.
"Harry! Harry sweetie, come back to me!" Ugh. Her voice is higher than the last. I wonder where Harry picks up these girls. I could hear Harry mumbling something in the kitchen as I walk into the living room where the girl is waiting, nude, and free, unaware that last night's lover has a worn out roommate. When I entered the room, she shrieked like a banshee as they all do, accusing me of robbery, as they all do. I'm tired of this and sure enough, I've gained another head ache. I'll need to have another talk with Harry.
"Shut up Susan!" Harry's voice bellows from the kitchen. He has a hangover. The girl screeches back at him, telling him that her name isn't Susan but Mandy. I don't know how he confused the two names. They sound nothing alike. I yell a goodbye to which he doesn't respond before I apparate out of the house to work at the Pub/Quidditch Merchandise Shop I run with Harry. When I form back in my office, I remember that I don't know if Mandy was a witch or muggle. It doesn't matter anyway. Harry will just convince her that she was only seeing things as he always does.
The day went by with nothing exciting. The Pub is always empty during the day while the Quidditch shop is swamped with young wizards and witches buying brooms, books, and other memorabilia. Colin Creevey works in the shop while I finishing paying bills and trying to sort out whatever financial mess Harry has gotten himself into.
There is something I should tell you about Harry. That final battle with Voldemort, it killed a part of him. Harry was not a murderer; he didn't have it in him. Even though Voldemort was his enemy, even though that monster had destroyed Harry's life in more ways than one, Harry couldn't kill anyone. Which was why when he fired off that last killing curse at Voldemort, it took a part of him with it. Loosing Remus and my father only added onto his guilt. Harry had this idea back then that he had to keep everyone safe. That the world rested on only his shoulders and no one except for maybe Mione, Remus, my family and myself tried to convince otherwise. The world was perfectly content to let my best friend think he was the only one that could save them when the world knew that wasn't true. And Harry was perfectly content to believe it though it beat him down every single second of the way. It was a miracle he made it at all.
So because of all this, my best friend changed. And then when Mione married Snape and Ginny told everyone about her relationship with his number two enemy, it broke Harry even more. And I was having a hard time picking up the pieces. It wasn't like anyone else was helping. I was all that Harry had. To Harry, I was the only one left that truly cared about him. But we all know that's not the truth. But what is true is that I was the only one willing enough to show him I still cared.
So the day passed by quietly, Harry staying at home to sleep off his hangover, Colin holding down the fort while I worked out debts and any other errands I had. It was right as I was leaving for home, I like to walk home to blow off steam because we all know what type of temper I have, that it began to pour down rain. Ice cold, hard rain. I sighed, grumbling as I pulled my jacket over my head. It didn't help. I would have apparated home if the street wasn't so crowded with muggles. A sigh escapes my lips and I can see it cloud in front of me. The temperature has dropped with just the rain.
There is minimal noise in the street. Just the sound of feet on wet pavement, opening of shop doors, and the swish of a car rolling by. It seems that no one is talking. The rain has pulled their moods down. Of all the faces my eyes rest upon for a moment, there are no smiles. Just people, trying to get through the day.
The rain is pelting down harder now, almost as if it was ice instead of rain but I know it's not that cold. Another block to go and I'll be safe inside my warm, cozy apartment where hot tea will be waiting for me. That is if Harry has woken up yet. Somehow, I doubt that he has. I'm jogging now, trying to get there faster. The constant beat of rain upon my neck is getting annoying.
The apartment building stands tall in the dim grey sky. And luckily for me, Harry and my apartment is on the top floor. I make a beeline for it, crossing the street without being hit and almost diving into the building to get out of the bloody rain. Looking all around me and making sure no one can see me, I apparate into the living room of the apartment, in front of where Harry is sitting on the couch, pulling at his cock to bring on an orgasm.
Suffice it to say but this has happened before. Also, when this has happened, I can't help but become a little aroused myself. The way Harry throws his head back, the way his lips are parted just slightly, the way his tongue darks out between those pink lips, the way his neck is flushed all the way up to his cheeks, it's all intoxicating. Of course to admit this aloud would be a big error in which the room would flash red and I'd have to kill myself by jumping out the window and forget my wand so that I cannot levitate myself down safely to the ground. So I act like any normal, roommate who has just apparated in on his best friend who seems to be having the wank of his bloody life.
"Bloody fucking hell, Harry!" My arms throw up to shield my face as I close my eyes and turn away from him. I can hear him gasp, startled, breathing heavily. He is silent for a moment and I wonder if I should just walk out of the room and go have a wank myself or just wait and see what happens.
"Ron! What are- you're supposed to- I was just-" he stumbles to find the right words, stumbles to explain the position he's in yet again. I have been catching him a lot lately. Usually when I get home from work. I wonder if he's doing it on purpose though I don't think he's aware of my more-than-just-friends feelings for him. I can hear him, shifting uncomfortably on the couch as just for a second, I allow myself to imagine just what it would be like to relieve that tension from him just once.
There's a tug on my belt loop, pulling me towards him. I let my arms fall to my sides but I keep my eyes closed. I know that if I even look at him for a millisecond and see the flushed look about his cheeks, I'll jump him. "Ron, you're hard." His whispered words waft to my ears and I gasp unintentionally. He saw it. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Double fuck with a cherry on top. There's more tugging on my pants that make me shut my eyes even tighter if it's possible. A part of me wonders why the hell he's tugging at me instead of yelling in disgust at the idea of his best mate becoming hard for him. "Ron."
"Harry." I'm not quiet sure what to do. There are three choices. One, break away from his grasp on my belt loops and make a run for my room before locking myself in it and pounding my head against the wall until my brain is working again. Two, open my eyes, look down at him, no doubt flushed and still hard and still aching for that release, and let all hell brake loose. And three… three, well, I can't think of one but it might possibly involve me jumping out the window while conveniently forgetting my wand.
I gasp when I feel Harry's fingers against my hip, slipping into my pants as if to get the feel of my body before he pops the button and unzips the pants. There's more tugging, only downward so he can pull at my boxers. Yes. I wear boxers. Plain boxers. No fancy design or anything with any writing. That's more for my older brothers Fred and George and even then I know for a fact that they prefer to go around commando. It's not very pleasing. For me.
Another gasp escapes my lips when I feel the cold air hit my groin area before Harry gasps the shaft with his warm hands. I can't help it. I open my eyes. The sight before me is seriously something plucked out from one of my numerous wet dreams about Harry. His pink tongue darts out to wet his equally pink lips. His green eyes are somewhat closed and his jet black hair is a mess of loose curls that end a little past the nape of his neck. His left hand is grasping my cock firmly, his thumb brushing over the tip while his right hand is working on his own. Seeing this only makes me harder and I can see Harry smile slightly. And then he leans in and takes me into his mouth.
A moan this time, loud and long echoes through the room. Fuck, his mouth is hot and wet. His tongue lapping against my skin is invigorating. My knees are weak all of a sudden and I find myself grasping Harry's strong yet tiny shoulders to hold onto something. Fuck, the way his tongue swirls around me, well. I can tell this isn't his first time although that kind of does damper my thoughts a bit. I don't like the idea that another man has touched him before me.
The tightness which was once in my chest has now slithered down to my stomach, filling me with warmth while getting tighter at the same time. I'm jerking into his mouth now, and I can feel him gasping around me as he pulls at his own cock. If I was really flexible, I'd be repaying the favor right now. He moans, the vibrations flowing through me. The next thing I know, I'm exploding into his mouth all too soon, but it feels so good. When I was with Hermione, I used to come in these jerky spurts, as if I had to coax it out sometimes but with Harry it just pours and the thought that he can do this only brings a smile to my face. He swallows it all, sucking harder as if to make sure he takes in ever drop.
My hands move to hold the back of the couch as I kneel down on my knees. He still hasn't come. I bat his hand away and take him into my mouth. Time to repay the favor as I was saying before. It's new, this thing we're doing. I've never been with another man before. Hell, I haven't been with anyone since Hermione and that was five years ago. At first, I'm hesitant but the feel of Harry's hand in my hair only spurs me on. I want to do this for him. To give him this release. I want to make him yell. I want to make him shiver. I want to possess him.
My hands come into play, going with the rhythm of my mouth and tongue. I must be doing a good job because it isn't long before he's coming into my mouth. He tastes salty, almost bland but I swallow it as if it's the sweetest water I've ever tasted. He's malnourished. Skinny. I vaguely remember wishing he's take better care of himself. I can feel some of it dribble down my chin as I lap at the tip of his cock. He is breathing heavily. He hadn't uttered a sound.
I look up at him, taking in the green of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks. I want to commit this to memory. It's silent and his thumb catches the cum that has dribbled down my chin. He brings it to his lips and sucks on it, tasting himself. It's erotic, wonderful; it'll be in my dream tonight. It's unreal, surreal and I want more. Fuck, I want so much more than this.
I grab his neck and pull him down before smashing my lips against his. There's a startled gasp, his hands tightening on my clothed shoulders and even though my eyes are closed, I know his are wide open and staring in surprise. My tongue is pushing at his lips. His hands relax and his lips part. My hands move to his waist, his hips and I pull him towards me, hard. My fingers dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent moon marks as our lips and tongues and teeth clash. His arms wrap around my shoulders and hold as my lips leave his mouth and travel down jaw to his neck. He moans a low husky sound that reverberates from his throat to my lips as they attack that very same place.
And then the thought hits me. Does Harry want me as much as I want him? Does he want this to be more or will I become another notch in his bedpost though I don't think he actually does put notches into his bedpost after every one night stand. He does realize that I want more, right? Of course he does. He must right? Or else what's the point of being best mates? I hope he knows.
I sigh, giving his neck a kiss before placing an even longer yet equally chase kiss upon his lips before I pull away and close my eyes. I'm getting closer to jumping out the window every day and I wonder if he is to. Maybe we can jump out together.