Warnings: This is rated 'R' for a reason. It contains sex scenes. Reader discretion is advised.

Pairing: RW/HP

Spoilers: Through book 5

A/N: Hello Ron/Harry shippers! I thought I'd board your vessel for awhile. Typically I write HP/SS so this is a bit different. I've never even read a Ron/Harry, so I hope this isn't too generic. I love all kinds of feedback, so don't hesitate to e-mail me at sshp208@yahoo.com or leave a review.

Good Touches

The lawn of the burrow glittered under the starlight, soaked in summer rain and almost as green as Harry's eyes. The desolate hero traced the patterns in the stars, looking for Sirius – his godfather forever immortalized in the vastness of heaven. He wanted to cry for him, cry like he had not allowed himself to do at the funeral, or when it had really sunk in not too long after the battle that concluded his fifth year. He was afraid that if he started, he might never stop. The floorboards creaked but Harry didn't turn. He knew it was probably just Ron getting up to use the restroom or get a glass of water. He was surprised, however, when a freckled hand gently squeezed his shoulder.

"I miss him, too, Harry. I wish more than anything that he was still alive. He gave me Pig, remember? He always made me feel like no matter how bad things got, there was always some hope if he was still alive, still on the run. I wanted you to finally have a family with him. You deserved it so much." The red head's hand dropped from his shoulder to rub a lazy circle on his back. "Everyone's noticed that you've been distant since you came here. Mum's really worried, but no one is as worried as I am. You won't shut me out, will you? You'll talk to me, right?" The hand that had been on his back was now gently holding his hip, and the other hand was slowly wrapping around his waist. He could feel soft spikes of hair brushing against his earlobe as Ron's breath grazed his cheek. Ron was tenderly melding their bodies together, possessively trapping Harry's legs between his own, pressing his bare chest against Harry's back.

Ron had touched him before. While they walked up to the dorms, Ron would sometimes brush their hands together in a way that couldn't be accidental. After he'd had intense nightmares, Ron had sat beside him on the bed, gently holding a cool cloth to his forehead while delicately running long fingers over his bare chest. Harry could only watch the hand ghosting over his nipples and stomach, not knowing how to feel, thinking it was wrong, but not making him stop. He never confronted Ron about it. He was his best friend, and his only best friend. What if, when Harry told him he was uncomfortable being touched, his friend got angry and they fought over it? He hated fighting with Ron. He couldn't stand not having someone to confide things to, someone to care about him when he woke up from bad dreams.

But Ron had never done this before. He'd never pressed his groin so intimately against his lower back, never wrapped his arms around him and rubbed small, comforting little circles on his belly. Harry knew it was wrong, and he knew he should have been embarrassed, even angry, but Ron was right. He was hurting so much inside that it was killing him to keep it locked away. And Ron cared. Ron wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him like no one had ever done for him when he was little. So what if he was another boy? He was also his best friend. Harry knew deep down that he'd give his soul to Ron if he asked for it. If Ron wanted to - touch him - then Harry would let him. And in return, Harry would mourn for Sirius in his arms.

The tears began to fall, and just as steadily, Ron's sun chapped lips kissed them away. Unsure if Ron wanted him to touch him back or not, he hesitantly dropped his hands behind him and pressed them against the long, muscular thighs that were wrapping around him from behind. His attempt to touch became a need to cling to something. His grip tightened of its own accord and he felt himself start to shake with sobs. Ron's arms tightened around him and his smooth, freckled cheek nestled against his tan one. Gently, Ron turned him around in his arms. Harry immediately tucked his face into the hollow of Ron's neck and shoulder, pitifully hugging Ron around his chest. The red head returned the embrace, his own hands wrapping around him to hold him just under his rear. Harry cried brokenly as Ron gently rubbed his hands up the backs of Harry's thighs, over his ass, and in small circles in the small of his back. Then the hands would reverse their path over and over again until Harry had no more tears left.

Ron slowly led him to his bed, ignoring the pallet that had been made for Harry to sleep on. Without much effort, as Ron was already developing into a man even if Harry still remained in the body of an overgrown child, he lifted his raven beauty lovingly and laid him on the side of the bed pushed against the wall. Harry felt completely drained, but wired at the same time. Watery green eyes met clear blue ones.

He knew Ron liked touching him, just as his uncle once had. It never was sex, just harmless touching. Sometimes, when Petunia and Dudley had left them alone, and when Harry was still just six, Vernon would have Harry sit in his lap as he watched the television. He would run a beefy hand up his milky thigh, absently pushing up the material of his shorts as his thumb would stroke the cotton of Harry's underwear.

"You know why I can touch you like this, don't you boy?" His uncle would ask as he'd slide fat hands over Harry's young chest.

"Ye – yes - uncle. Because you feed me and let me sleep here, and I have to repay you." The little boy replied. Vernon nodded, dropping his hands to undo the button on Harry's shorts.

"And what else have I told you?" He asked in a husky voice.

"That I shouldn't ever tell anyone, or the nice touching will be bad touching. You'll hit me." Harry replied shyly, worry in his voice.

"This doesn't hurt you, does it?" Vernon asked as he slid Harry's shorts down his skinny legs.

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"I'm just touching you, and that's okay, isn't it, Harry? Because you owe me."

"Yes sir."

Vernon freed Harry's penis and held it in his big hand. His own arousal began to tent his pants. Harry suddenly found his uncle's lap to be made of sharp angles, and he wiggled slightly in an attempt to find a more comfortable spot. A throaty groan gurgled out of Vernon's fat throat. He pushed Harry off his lap as he hastily unfastened his zipper and pulled his erection out of his boxers. Then he grabbed Harry's small shoulder and pulled him in between his legs, lifting him up on his lap and positioning the child so that he straddled his thick thighs uncomfortably and his small limp penis was pressed against Vernon's purpled one. Vernon spread Harry's cheeks with meaty fingers and ran his thumb over Harry's small entrance. Thrusting against Harry as best as his girth would allow, he took one look at the little penis pressed against his own, pressed Harry's head downwards, and shot his seed into the little boy's face. Quickly, he yanked Harry's face up again to see his seed dribbling out of Harry's surprised little mouth, his green eyes wide and confused. Unable to resist, he pressed his lips against Harry's and kissed him with a passion he never showed his wife. Harry could feel his lips bruising, but he was sure his uncle wasn't intentionally hurting him. This was still a good kind of touching. Harry did not want the bad kind of touching, when Vernon would take him over his knee and slap his bare bottom with the full weight of his hand, occasionally stopping to squeeze the aching flesh harshly before spanking him again and again.

Harry blinked his eyes a few times, wondering why the memory of his uncle had resurfaced then of all times. Ron's touching was not the same as his uncle's. He had never wanted his uncle to touch him, but he wanted Ron to.

No. He didn't, really. He wanted Ron to be happy, and he knew that touching him would make Ron happy. Just as when he was a little boy, he'd only wanted to make his uncle love him like he did Dudley.

But that wasn't right. Ron wasn't Vernon. Vernon had never really cared about him. Ron did care, and because he cared, Harry could never deny him what he wanted. Blushing, because he'd never thought he'd be saying this to another boy, he pulled his pajama pants and his boxer shorts down.

"Touch me, Ron." He managed weakly. Ron obviously took his blush and his weak voice for desire, because he covered his lips again and didn't hesitate to place his hand around Harry's member. After the ravaging kiss, he looked deep into Harry's eyes, lovingly running to long digits up and down his length.

"I want to take away your pain, Harry, just for a little while. I was so worried that you didn't like me, thought that you didn't even like boys. But I watched what happened with you and Cho, and something just told me that you weren't looking for a girl. Any other boy would have been on cloud nine after he got his first kiss, from a looker like Cho no less, but you didn't feel anything. You sounded almost like you regretted it. I've had the biggest crush on you for so long, and I was afraid to tell you. And every time I touched you, you wouldn't respond, but you wouldn't push me away. Why didn't you tell me you felt the same? We've wasted so much time that we could have spent together!" Ron questioned, obviously adding years to his life by finally releasing his feelings.

"I don't - " Harry wanted to say, 'I don't feel anything about anyone,' but he knew that it wouldn't make Ron happy, and he was too emotionally drained to work up any emotion other than weak resignation. "I don't know. Afraid of rejection I guess." He finished lamely, wishing that Ron would get back to touching him instead of looking into his eyes like he was.

"You look like this isn't what you want, Harry." He finally said, quickly removing his hand from Harry's limp prick. His caring, loving voice had hardened, probably without him realizing it. But Harry knew. He suddenly thought childishly of bad touches and tears spilled from his eyes.

"No, Ron, please! Please!" Was all he could manage to say. He'd meant to beg him to touch him, meant to tell him that he did want him, meant to tell him something. But all he'd managed to do was plead for a solution that even he didn't know. Then, a thought pierced his skull like a bullet.

Sirius would have helped him sort all this out. But now there was no one left.

He only had Ron, and maybe Hermione, too, but she wasn't the one he confided all his secrets and insecurities to. Ron was the one who had given him a family, stuck beside him when others had turned away from him. And when they'd fought, it had consumed Harry so that it was the only thing he could think about all the time. He never wanted to go through that again.

And he was tired of facing things alone. He wanted someone that loved him to protect him from everything. He wanted someone that would fight for him, so that he didn't have to do everything by himself, so that life wasn't such a burden. And Ron did all that. Ron was everything he had left in the world. He did it all without ever asking for anything in return, and now, all he wanted was harmless sex.

Harry was not ignorant, nor was he still a child. He knew what Vernon had done was wrong. He knew, also, that having sex with another boy would make everyone think he was disgusting.

But what did he care about all of them? They never risked their life with him, as Ron did. They never remained loyal to him when he needed their support. They only hurt him, slandered him, gossiped about him, and made his scar worth more than he was. He owed them nothing, and he owed Ron everything. Everything and anything that Ron wanted to take. The idea of rejecting him, looking down on him because he preferred men was unthinkable. Laughable. Ridiculous.

Ron had been watching him think things through, hovering a few inches above his face and seemingly frozen there.

"I need you, Ron. I need you and no one else. Hasn't it always been that way? As long as you'll love me, nothing else will matter, and if I loose you, I won't matter. I would have never made it without you, Ron. I won't make it now if you leave me. Please don't. For just awhile, protect me from everyone." He begged, gripping Ron's biceps until he was sure he'd leave marks.

"Oh, Harry, I'll always protect you, love. Always. I'll never leave. I promise." He confessed between needy kisses placed on whatever skin was closest.

It was awkward. Harry didn't know exactly what to do, and neither did Ron. He'd had the foresight to have lubrication though, and it made him hard as a rock when Harry's trembling hands coated his arousal in the slippery cream.

"I've never done this, Harry. I wanted my first time to be with you. I would have waited forever." He mumbled as he reverently spread Harry's thighs and prodded at his entrance with a slick finger. He was kissing Harry's chest and throat, seemingly unaware that Harry was not responding to his eager, hot mouth. Harry heard himself babbling a long string of nonsensical words intermingled with little mewls of pain when one finger became two fingers, two fingers became three. "Relax, love, it's supposed to make it hurt less." Ron said, worry creeping into his voice. Quickly wanting to re-assure him, Harry ran his hands along the smooth planes of Ron's back encouragingly. Completely lost in his own pleasure, Ron positioned himself at Harry's entrance. His eyes closed and his jaw hung loosely. Harry only rubbed his arms and chest a bit faster, watching, seemingly mesmerized, as a bead of sweat slid from Ron's crown of red spikes and down the hollow of his freckled cheek.

Quietly, as Ron fully sheathed himself inside him, he heard himself whisper, "You're beautiful, Ron. I think you're beautiful." His hands had moved to cup Ron's face, his thumbs ghosting over Ron's fragile eyelids. Then, feeling unable to move anything and suddenly very dead inside, his hands fell to the bed like lead weights. He rolled his head to the side, so that he could see the stars outside the window. Ron moaned in passion, dropping his head into Harry's neck, and thrusting in a steady, passionate rhythm.

Harry smiled sadly as he spotted Sirius, just at the feet of the great hunter Orion.

Ron climaxed inside him, and the sensation jerked Harry's eyes to the back of his skull. The rush of seed had touched a part of him, something deep inside him, and he felt a low moan spill from his dry lips.

Then the moment passed, and he was in pain and sticky. In addition, Ron was asleep on his chest, his limp penis still inside him. The whole thing hadn't lasted very long, and Harry had never become aroused as Ron had.

But Ron was happy. Beautiful Ron was already deep in the arms of a good dream, and deep inside him. Harry shifted slightly, and suddenly their position felt much more natural. Harry found the blanket pooled beside them, and he managed to pull it over them, denying the starlight access to beautiful Ron's naked back. Then, with the intention of never immerging from under his protector again, he closed his eyes and made himself as small as he could beneath Ron, for the first time falling asleep in the arms of someone who loved him.

A/N: Well. There you have it. I give chocolate frogs to reviewers!