Is this a bit more to your liking, Mharie? ;) I don't suppose you'd honestly believe that I'd forgotten entirely that I hadn't posted the final chapter until just now?
Warnings: Same as usual. A bit more heavy, direct innuendo, a bit more vampireism.
Settling and Changes. 3/3
The front door slammed open as Harry eagerly whirled inside. "Charlie!" he cried "God, Charlie! You have to—!" The exclamations prompted Charlie to step out of the kitchen – which he did just in time for Harry to run into him and propel them both to the ground.
"Ugh," Charlie groaned. His back and shoulders took the brunt of the fall and for a moment it felt like he couldn't breathe. But Harry was on top of him and he was saying something but Charlie couldn't really hear what as the words all jumbled together. Bemused, he brought his hands up and rested them lightly on Harry's hips. "Harry?"
The words stopped temporarily as Harry blinked. Harry shook his head, green eyes sparkling. There was a large utterly proud and ridiculous grin on his face. "They want me on the team," he whispered, voice hoarse and husky. "The team, Charlie: England wants me on their national team!" He leaned down, close enough for his hair to tickle Charlie's face. Charlie was by now grinning just as widely as Harry. "Can you believe it? Me, on the team, with all those—"
"—Talented, professional players?" Charlie cut in cheekily. His eyes danced with an inner light. Harry laughed and nodded, so Charlie went on, "Players like you?"
"I…I never thought… You know? I mean, I came here to try and make a living for myself, and now," Harry whispered, not quite sure what he wanted to convey to Charlie. Charlie seemed to understand, though, because his smile toned down a bit and the hands on his hips began rubbing in small circles. Harry found that to be incredibly soothing. "I'm Pansy Potter who keeps falling off the broom during team practice–"
"–and catches the Snitch more times than any other English Seeker currently about, whose Wronski Feint is inhuman and bloody impossible to copy? Whose agility and instinctual, innate ability to fly is out of this world, whose intuition is borderline psychic," Charlie impishly continued, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument but at the same time completely earnest. "You deserve it, Harry. Congratulations," he said seriously.
The lump that formed in his throat at the sudden seriousness in his friend threw Harry off a bit. "Thank you," he answered, not really knowing what else to say. "I guess I just always thought of myself as one of the team. Just another Seeker, you know? But…this…this means I'm like Krum, doesn't it?"
"It does, doesn't it?" Charlie's grip on Harry's hips tightened and Harry unconsciously wet his lips. "Youngest in a century, wasn't that it?"
Harry nodded, his fingers – that he only just now realised were clenched tightly around fistfuls of Charlie's loose, worn cardigan – slowly loosened their grip. His hands moved up, then, almost on their own towards a new destination: Charlie's hair. He began tugging gently at the rough and silky hair almost unconsciously. "Mmmm. Oliver was ecstatic that your replacement was so…adequate."
"You were more than 'adequate'."
"I was eleven; I can't have been."
"Well, either way, you are now." Harry nodded a little. His eyes flickered from Charlie's eyes to Charlie's chapped lips and he was at once uncomfortably aware of how close they were, how Charlie's breath ghosted against his lips and how strong and pleasantly warm the grip Charlie had of his hips was.
"This is okay, right? This…it's okay, isn't it?" Harry mumbled, dimly aware that he leaned even closer. One hand tightened its grip further while Charlie's other came up the grip his neck.
"…define 'this', Harry…"
He'd slept in Charlie's bed before – of course he had! – but not like this. Never like this. Never naked, never with their legs tangled, never woken slowly, hazy and sated and smiling. Never wriggled closer to breathe in the smell of Charlie's neck or leisurely stroked his hand up and down the broad, freckled chest. Never had those muscled arms come up to wrap around him and tug him closer. Never had sleepy, warm kisses pressed to the side of his face and neck.
Never felt so incredibly warm and wanted ever before in all his life.
"Mmmm," Harry mumbled as he pressed himself closer, mouth curling into a smile.
Harry stretched out on a garden chair. His toes burrowed in the lush grass and he wiggled them. The warm sun beat down on his face and Harry couldn't help but smile; he had missed the Burrow. Perhaps not as much as last time – not with the way his and Charlie's relationship had progressed and blossomed – but the Burrow was home in a sense Hogwarts had never been. The Burrow was friendly Weasleys, playfulness and mothering.
Harry stirred lazily and cracked an eye open to glance at Ginny. "Mmm?" Then he blinked and hurriedly stood up, a smile on his face. "Congratulations on Graduating, Ginny." He gave her a friendly hug.
Ginny hesitantly returned it, and then they stepped apart. "Thank you, Harry."
"How did your N.E.W.T.s go?"
"Okay, I think." She shrugged. "Listen, Harry–" The opening of the backdoor interrupted her and they both turned around to see a young man with fair brown hair wearing a neat robe step outside.
Whoever it was, he seemed torn between awe and jealousy as he headed straight for her and grabbed her hand. Harry frowned, and then he pursed his lips. He couldn't be jealous – he shared a bed with her brother, but…he felt something twist in his chest at the sight of someone else holding her hand. He tried to shake the feeling but wasn't altogether successful as his voice came out somewhat subdued as he said, "Why don't you introduce us, Ginny?"
"Sure," Her tone of voice matched his perfectly. "Harry, this is Randolph Burrow–"
"–Ran," he cut in. Ginny shot him a glare before continuing,
"–my boyfriend. Ran, this is Harry."
"Hi." Harry summoned a shaky smile and held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Ran narrowed his eyes and slowly reached out to shake his hand at about the same time as Ron and the Twins burst out of the Burrow's back door.
"The English National team?!" someone, probably Ron, exclaimed.
Harry grinned, his unease forgotten in a flash. "Oh, yes."
"Bloody hell, mate!"
Ginny gaped, eyes widening. "Merlin, Harry!"
"It's bloody unbelievable, isn't it?"
Harry stuck his tongue out as Charlie laughed at him. "Not that funny, mate," he muttered petulantly. "She was brandishing a spatula! She didn't even do that when I said I was going to Romania…"
Charlie chuckled, fingers gently tucking Harry's errant hair behind an ear. "Quidditch is dangerous. More and more the higher up you get, and being on that level is about as high up as you can get."
Harry nodded. His face heated slowly at the gentle sensation of fingers in his hair, so near his ear, and he knew he was probably looking horribly in love and stupid, by the way he was grinning. But being like this with Charlie, intimate and caring… It was still so new and caused a delirious rush within him that he never tired of. Besides, the light that danced in Charlie's eyes told of similar feelings. It made Harry feel strangely warm and deliriously happy all at once. "She gave me a hug, too. Once she calmed down a bit." Harry splayed a hand on Charlie's chest and pressed his fingertips down.
"Didn't smack you over the head, then?"
Harry burst out laughing. "She didn't!?"
Charlie shrugged, once. "Dragons are dangerous."
"True," Harry agreed and leaned up slightly from the pillows about the same time as Charlie turned his head. Harry sighed as that mouth, those lips touched his own…so warm, so–
"Why am I not even surprised?"
Charlie pulled his head back and winked at his brother, who had just come in through the door. "Because we went through such an ordeal being subtle, most likely, Billy."
Harry flopped down on the bed and blinked at the ceiling. "…please tell me we weren't that obvious… Do you know how much fun I made of Ron and Hermione for dancing around each other like that?"
"They danced for six years. That's–"
"Neither here, nor there," Bill said, smirking faintly. "When you tell Mum, I want to be there. As your oldest brother, that's my right."
"…Mrs Weasley?" Harry said weakly. "But–"
"She's my mum."
"But she just brandished a spatula at me!"
Stretching out on the grass, eyes closed and arms crossed under his head, Harry relaxed and allowed his mind to wander. It mostly strayed to Charlie and Harry felt himself smiling unconsciously every time as he remembered details, little, inconsequential details. How his hair felt: how it stuck out worse than Harry's own at odd angles in the mornings. How his lips were sort of chapped and rough, but how he still was the most gentle, softest kisser… How he still ruffled Harry's hair, as if he were a younger, troublesome brother, but one Charlie felt extremely affectionate towards and, well, attracted to and not very much like a brother at all. How they had the greatest time, fooling around and being all silly and playful, and how it didn't feel strained or like a serious relationship at all, even though it was. Serious, that is, because Harry had never quite felt this way about another person before.
He had been fond of Ginny, yes, cared for her and liked her and even now he couldn't deny that there was a residual jealousy towards her boyfriend, but…Charlie, Charlie made fire erupt in his stomach and coil outwards, heating his body, making his ears turn red and cause him to smile that stupid daft smile, eyes love-struck and bright. Harry knew, because Charlie looked like that when he looked at Harry, too, sometimes.
And the sex was really great.
"–so what do you think?"
Oh yes, Harry grinned, the sex was really, really great. So what if there was an age difference of eight years? Charlie made him feel hot and wanted and experienced.Charlie said Harry made him feel hot and wanted and young. Harry thought that was kind of stupid, because Charlie wasn't old at all.
Someone yelled, "Harry!" and Harry started, flying up from the grass to sit in an upright position, eyes wide.
Hermione rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Harry, Ron asked if you would consider dating Lavender."
Harry frowned. "Lavender?"
"Brown? She was in our year–"
"No." Harry shook his head. "No, I don't feel like it." He frowned slightly. "I don't really like dating…too awkward and orchestrated…"
"…then why were you grinning like your greatest dream had just come true?"
Harry blinked. "I was?"
"Oh. Well. I was just thinking about tomorrow." Harry grinned as Ron and Hermione both looked confused. "First practice with the National Team. Big Day."
Charlie didn't really spend much time at his cottage Harry realised halfway through September. Most of the days in the week he spent with his dragons and on the weekends… Sometimes he'd come and stay with Harry, who had by then moved in, or he'd Apparate over and bring Harry with him back. So what had once been Charlie's cottage, very briefly theirs, was now primarily Harry's. He wasn't sure he liked it and he also suddenly understood the Doctor and his apprehension as yet another one of his Keepers were on the verge of falling in love. Love did strange things to people, humans and Vampires alike. It was, Harry mused, a thoroughly unpredictable force.
"Charlie…" Harry slowly trailed a finger down Charlie's naked chest. He tried to find a pattern in the freckles but found himself incapable of doing so. Charlie grunted. "I…did you know the Doctor asked me not to take you away from him?"
Charlie stilled in a very disconcerting way, Harry thought. "Harry," he began, but Harry tapped him lightly on his chest.
"Wait, okay?" Harry frowned. "I…this is my first relationship, you know? I don't really count me and Ginny…we were too young and I was too caught up with other things, and, but…I guess when I told your boss that I'd never do that – make you choose…I was a bit naive. I had a major crush on you, back then. I didn't really know what I was agreeing to, and lately…I don't know, Charlie. A Dragon Keeper is what you are."
"What are you saying, Harry?" Charlie's voice was oddly subdued and he was lying very still.
Harry shrugged slowly, biting his lip. "I honestly don't know."
"This is one of my longer relationships, did you know? I never really get my hopes up because most of the people I've been with expect me to change for them and when I don't…they move on."
The fact that their relationship hadn't even lasted for that long yet made Charlie's statement even more wrong and depressing. Harry bit his lip. "I guess I can see that," he said cautiously. "In a way, I think that's it."
"Harry?" Charlie whispered.
"I don't see you enough. Sometimes it feels like we saw each other more before we started to have sex, you know?"
Charlie laughed a little at that and Harry smiled. He finally dared to relax when a familiar, welcome hand found its way to his hair. "Probably because we didn't know what we'd miss, Dragonfly."
Harry nodded slowly. "Probably," he repeated. Then, "I'm not housewife material, Charlie. I don't think I'll be able to wait around like this forever."
"I'm not asking you to."
"But you love me, right?" Harry hated how insecure his voice came out. Hated how he still was so starved for affection and love. Warmth. Wanting a family. Belonging somewhere; he reckoned he did that with Charlie.
"Yes, Harry, I do. Too much, probably."
Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, me too, I guess."
Outside, the snow was thick, covering the mountainside and the peaks, making it bright despite the darkness of December.
Inside, Harry was bent over the cooker, trying to assemble a fancy dinner worthy of a Weasley dinner party and Charlie's birthday. Charlie was helpful enough to lay the table and clean the cottage, but as far as actual cooking went he was a right disaster. Oh, he knew the basics and he could keep himself fed and properly sustained, but…fancy creations and dishes more complicated than pasta? Not so much.
Everyone had eaten and were well into drinks and the dessert, strawberry shortcake, when Ron ambled into the room, a slight frown on his face. "Harry, mate?"
"Why's your broom in the closet?"
Harry shrugged. There was an earnest, if a fair bit confused, look on his face as he licked his spoon clean. "Where else would it be?"
"No, that's not what I meant." Ron shook his head and slowly sat back down. "I mean, why isn't it at your place?"
"Yes," Hermione piped in, "and why did you cook?"
"Well, Charlie's pants at it and this place is ideal for flying…" and I live here, Harry mentally continued, exchanging a quick glance with Charlie. Fleur was looking absolutely delighted and Bill was chuckling quietly to himself. Harry frowned briefly at them before dismissing them entirely.
"I bought this pan for you." Hermione reached across the table and tapped the pan in question. The pan that had held a stir-fry at one point during the evening but was now empty. Harry realised that they really should have cleared the table.
Harry blinked. "Oh. Um. Charlie's is unable to function properly. And I needed two, anyway." He cringed almost immediately after he said it; it was such a horribly obvious and dysfunctional lie. Charlie's pan was, after all, sitting next to Harry's on the table.
"Harry," Charlie said and raised his eyebrows. Harry pursed his lips, but nodded even as he slumped down on his chair. "Okay?"
"Fine." Harry fingered the spoon in his hand as he shifted to sit straighter again. "Truth is…truth is I live here. I moved in, awhile ago. In… August?"
"Aug–but that's four months ago! Harry–"
"I didn't think it'd matter, all right? I mean, I play Quidditch – why does it matter where I live?" Bill made a choking kind of noise. Charlie helpfully thumped him on the back. Harry swallowed. Right, he knew, didn't he? "All right, there, Bill?"
Concerned, Mrs Weasley put down her spoon. "But, Harry dear, surely you don't sleep on the couch?"
"No, Mrs Weasley," Harry said quietly. He squirmed slightly and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He felt cornered. This wasn't how they had planned it. This wasn't how they wanted everyone to find out. Truth to be told, though, they hadn't actually discussed it at all, but Harry had a hard time figuring out worse ways for someone to come out as a couple, and this certainly wasn't how he wanted it to come out!
Being exposed by accidental, circumstantial evidence and lousy bad luck.
"Charlie," Harry said and stood, leaning over the table. "I think now would be a good time."
Harry shook his head, mouth set and eyes narrowed. "I don't want it this way! I want to at least have chosen it." Even if there wasn't much choice left by now. "Um. Well, it's…Mr and Mrs Weasley, I, uh… Charlie?"
"We're dating," Charlie blurted casually, his ears characteristically bright Weasley-red. "That's why he's living here–"
"Come, now, Molly, dear–"
"No, Arthur," Mrs Weasley snapped. Harry sank down on his chair again. He studiously refused to meet anyone's eye. His face was just a fraction too pale, and he resorted to biting his lip. "Of all the irresponsible–!" she spluttered. "Harry is just a child!" Harry flinched. "You should know better, Charlie!"
"He's not a child, Mum."
"I'm not sure I ever was," Harry muttered quietly. "If anyone feels like it, there's some mulled wine and gingerbread cookies…" He bit his lip and then stood up again. He mumbled something about needing the loo before he fled the room.
Harry slowed slightly, then squared his shoulders and rushed on, up the stairs and through the bedroom. He only paused long enough to put on the old shoes by the balcony door before stepping out on the snow covered balcony. The snow was thick and deep and his feet sank down completely.
Fleur, evidently much more versed in the magical world, simply brandished her wand and preformed a simple Heating Charm on the patio. The snow was efficiently vaporised and the chilled stone temporarily heated. 'Arry?"
"No, you are not. You are upset, correct?"
Harry shrugged stiffly, leaning heavily on the railing. "I didn't want it to come out like this. I wanted to tell you all on my own terms…maybe in the summer at the Burrow when it didn't matter… Not a little over a week before Christmas… Charlie and I hadn't even talked about it, y'know?"
Harry shook his head, voice devoid of emotions. "No. You and Bill dated for a year before you told anyone, didn't you?"
"Yes," Fleur admitted with a gentle smile. "But our relationship was…not so good, always. 'E distrusted my Veela in'eritance, and zat was complicating."
"Bill thought you were Charming him?" Fleur nodded, her smile changing into something akin to dry amusement and Harry at once got the feeling that there were Incidents and that they were Humorous. Harry flushed slowly as something else occurred to him, something about Veelas and charms and attraction. "Does sexual orientation…?" Harry trailed off.
Oui, Harry mouthed, blinking slowly. "…I never liked you that much. Not like Ron."
"Yes, 'Arry." Fleur nodded amiably. "Which eez why I liked you very much. 'Arry, Molly and Arthur are very 'onourable and–"
"I know." Harry pursed his lips. He breathed out heavily. "I just wasn't prepared; I think that's why I'm overreacting. I fancied that I had at least until summer to familiarise myself with Charlie, living here and…being in a…relationship. You know?" Fleur nodded, her pale arms wrapped round herself.
"Eet eez cold, 'Arry. Can we go back inside?"
"You go. Wait," Harry added just as she turned to do just that, "the purple box under the bed, it's for Bill, from Charlie. He said it was…appropriate given the current conditions?" To Harry's surprise Fleur's pale face reddened somewhat and a hand, most likely on its own, came to rest on her abdomen. Harry shook his head and bit his lip, sort of smiling. "I won't tell, but you should take the box."
At that, Fleur raised an eyebrow and placed her hands firmly on her hips. "'Arry?" she said demandingly.
Harry titled his head to the side, confused. "Oh! Congratulations, Fleur." And he hugged her warmly. "Guess I'm…happy for you?"
"Merci beaucoup," Fleur acknowledged with a slight bow and a gentle smile.
"Zat eez 'zank you very much' in French."
"Oh." Harry grinned and then hissed something that came out garbled and thick and incomprehensible. "That's 'you're welcome' in Parseltongue."
Fleur rolled her eyes and muttered something in French under her breath.
Harry cautiously stepped back inside the kitchen behind Fleur. "Um. All right?" he asked. Charlie nodded slightly and waved him over. "Charlie?"
"Let's do this properly." He stood up and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mum, Dad." He looked directly at them. Mr and Mrs Weasley both stared back at him and Harry had to quell an irrational urge to squirm. "This is my boyfriend, Harry, and we have been together since…" Charlie trailed off, his forehead crinkling as he thought. Harry looked away. He frowned and his lips moved soundlessly as he tried to figure it out, too.
"Honestly," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. Mrs Weasley shot her a sharp, reprimanding glare.
"…April?" Charlie eventually ventured.
Harry shook his head, making an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "May, I think."
Charlie nodded. "Right. We have been together since…May– you know, that doesn't feel right, Harry."
"Yeah…" Harry frowned. "Ron, when did I make the English team?"
Ron blinked. "Um. First of June, I think. Why, mate?"
Harry grinned. "No reason."
Charlie cleared his throat, then continued, "So, we've been together since the first of June–" the twins, along with Ron and Ginny, groaned while Hermione made an exasperated sound. Bill chuckled. Mr Weasley held a hand over his mouth and Mrs Weasley smiled encouragingly. Charlie glared petulantly and Harry crossed his arms. "–since the first of June…what am I doing?"
"You're doing it properly."
"Right." Charlie flashed Harry a brief smile and Harry returned it with a small one of his own. "Harry and I have been together since the first of June. Do you welcome him to the family as my boyfriend and friend?"
Mr Weasley nodded and Mrs Weasley smiled, her eyes suspiciously wet. "Of course we do, dear!"
"Yeah, mate," Ron muttered, "because it isn't like you've been part of the family since you were eleven…"
It was yet another night. Yet another lonely night spent in solitude… Harry really, really didn't like it. Charlie, he knew, kept busy all day long – flying and tending to whatever dragons that happened to be nearby, helping the newly hatched ones get their bearings straight and so on… But Harry, Harry had Quidditch four days a week: Wednesdays and the weekends off. The rest of the time dragged by, slowly
It was like he was new to Romania all over again, only this time he had tasted the Apple of Knowledge and knew exactly what he was missing out on.
"This isn't working," he said as Charlie Apparated inside the kitchen. Harry was leaning against the cooker and his arms were crossed over his chest.
Charlie's face fell. Then he just nodded and looked oddly resigned. Harry abruptly realised that the man had most likely come back far too many times, hearing those words – in different shapes but with the same meaning – to last him a lifetime.
"When you're here–" Harry had long stopped referring to the cottage as 'home' for Charlie, "–it's great."
"Better," Charlie muttered. Harry nodded.
"So you see what the problem is, then?"
"I'm never here."
Harry smiled slightly. "But you are. I…I'm a decent cook, you know? And I don't have Quidditch all days of the week. I've been thinking, you see, and if the Doctor'd integrate me–" Harry never got to finish his sentence as Charlie tackled him to the floor, kissing him senseless and tugging at his clothes.
"Oh, God in Heaven," Harry panted, clutching at his chest weakly, face red and he felt utterly sated. "Fucking love you, Charlie, fucking love you…"
"This is most unusual," the Doctor murmured, but he was smiling very slightly. Harry took that as a good sign.
Harry bit his lip and nodded. "I realise that. But is it possible? I mean, I'd help out, of course, and I obviously know how to fly. I'd stay with Charlie, and I could cook? I kinda like dragons, too, I guess, I just haven't really…studied them."
"The lifestyle of a Dragon Keeper is hardly glamourous."
Harry shrugged. "Living in a cupboard's not that brilliant either. I don't mind; I never have. Being happy, having a home, a family…that's all I ever wanted, and now I have Charlie, and…I don't want to lose him."
"Then we feel the same way, young Harry." Harry had to bite his lips hard to tone down the large grin that otherwise threatened to split his face. Because if that hadn't been the largest 'yes' then Harry didn't know what was. The Doctor took his hand and slowly brought it to his mouth. Harry blinked, but didn't say anything as he had grown used to the almost arrogant behaviour the Doctor displayed and therefore he barely started when one finger was pulled into a warm mouth, then bitten, only so that the Doctor could squeeze out a few drops of his blood on a round, smooth stone. Harry felt a bit confused as to where it had come from: if the Doctor had had it in his hand all along of it he had wordlessly Summoned it. "This is the Calling Device. It will alert you when we move, and when you want to find us, you focus on this stone and you will be pulled in. It is a very safe technique but as it requires the use of blood—"
"—mostly not in use, right?"
"Indeed." The Doctor smiled.
It also reminded Harry uncomfortably of Voldemort and his Dark Mark. Harry swiftly pushed that thought aside with a slight shake of his head. He raised his head and met the dark eyes of the vampire. The smile he summoned was small, but heartfelt. The smile that the Doctor returned Harry's with was shockingly, but perhaps not, similar.
"Thank you," he murmured, and then he impulsively hugged the Doctor. As he began to pull back, however, he found himself held firmly in position.
"Now," the vampire murmured, "if you do not mind, my Harry, I find myself slightly…hungry."
"Eh." Harry froze and swallowed deeply. "You…eat on your…employees?"
"Of course." Harry found it very unjust of the man to run his hand through Harry's hair like that. "With consent, naturally. It simplifies matters greatly. May I, young Harry?"
Biting his lip, Harry nodded slightly. "Has Charlie—?"
"There have been a few occasions, yes."
"Okay, then. Doesn't hurt, does it?"
"I have bitten you before."
It was almost as if he were drunk – the way his legs wobbled and felt highly unsteady. Harry stumbled inside Charlie's tent and promptly fell over the man's outstretched legs and landed face first on the soft carpet. "Ughh," he groaned and didn't bother getting up. The ground was deliriously comfortable and itwas mostly still when he was lying down on it.
"Fuck, Harry," Charlie cursed. "You startled–are you drunk?"
"Nooo," he groaned. Harry rolled over on his back and arched his head back. He languidly waved a hand and pointed at the band–aid. "Bastard bit me! See? That wicked–"
"Endorphins, I see," Charlie muttered. Harry chuckled quietly and held out his arms, beckoning him to come closer. "Dare I?"
Harry nodded slowly as a lazy – seductive – grin slowly formed on his face. "Horny as fuck," he said. He lifted his hips a bit for emphasis and all at once, Charlie was very aware of Harry's…excitement. "See?"
"Oh, yes," Charlie murmured, already on his feet, and then he was kneeling over Harry. "I see. Very clearly." He brought a hand down and palmed the erection and Harry gasped. "I'll fix it–"
"Damn right you will," Harry muttered as he grabbed Charlie by his thick hair. He pulled Charlie down and kissed him. It was a slow and unhurried kiss that belied the aroused state Harry appeared to be in. "With that hot mouth of yours," Harry continued as if he hadn't stopped to kiss Charlie at all. Charlie grinned. Harry frowned. "What?" Disgruntled.
Charlie shook his head. "Nothing. You're hot," was all he murmured. Then they kissed again.
And, THE END!
Fun, wasn't it?