33. ENLIGHTENMENT (R) BY IAMSHADOW
Title: Enlightenment
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,071
Rating: R
Warnings: Bucketloads of Embarrassment. One frightening female. Sex talk. Mention of het.
Summary: Ron is clueless. Harry is clueless. Luckily (?) George and Ginny are there to help.
A/N: Sorry about the long delay. Holiday season, and writer's block, and all that.
Well, I figured, too much Plot lately and not enough of the light relief. So this chapter's a bit of a timeout after the angstyness of the whole Skeeter debacle and Ron vs Percy.
The word 'nutsack' is in this story purely because Emma hates it, and I told her months ago I'd work it into a fic, just for her. ;)
Some of the storyline for this chapter may have been inspired by a certain poll on a certain person's journal a while back. You know you are.
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
“You really are daft, aren’t you?” George’s pronouncement holds an element of wonder, as though he’s fascinated by the magnitude of my stupidity.
I finish locking the shop door and ask the question I know George wants me to ask. “What have I done now?” I sigh.
“Nothing,” he smirks. “That’s the point.”
I shake my head tiredly. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I am making complete sense. You’re the one who wouldn’t notice someone was making a pass at you unless they walked up and grabbed your nutsack.”
“What?!” I try to think up coherent replies, but instead my brain is frantically searching for something that had happened during the day that could be construed as ‘a pass’. I come up blank. “Who?”
George has that smug bastard look on his face. “That last customer. The blonde one who looked like a Quidditch player.”
Blonde? Oh, yeah. Thinking hard about it, he had been blonde. “He was just being friendly. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Friendly?” George chortles. “Ron, nobody loiters round a shop for over an hour then buys something small at the very last second before leaving unless they’re up to something. I nearly kicked him out for shoplifting before I saw what he was doing.”
I can feel my face starting to flush. “Maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted.”
“ ‘What does this one do, Mr Weasley?’ ‘How does that work, Mr Weasley?’ ” George repeats in a sing-song voice. “Never mind that it’s all right there on the packaging. I think he knew exactly what he wanted.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“You honestly didn’t notice?” George asks. I shake my head, feeling hideously embarrassed and, for some reason, guilty.
“And I’m the one who’s single,” he says incredulously, as he begins counting the till.
*****************************
I am thoroughly engrossed in dinner preparations, so much so that I don’t hear someone enter the kitchen. Molly’s cookbook is open and I am muttering to myself as I measure out ingredients into the self-stirring mixing bowl when an amused voice comments, “You’re very intense, you know. It’s just food.”
I jump and swear, dropping the cup. A fine dusting of flour settles on all the nearby surfaces, and I sneeze violently. “You’d better not say that near your brothers,” I splutter, “They’d think it was blasphemy.”
Ginny dismisses my warning with an unconcerned shrug. “I’ve seen some of the things they eat. They’re hardly on the moral high ground. Ron, for one, would probably put anything in his mouth if you told him he should.”
Ginny puts slight emphasis on you in that last sentence, but I don’t think anything of it. She is silent for a little while, but I’m hyperaware of her behind me, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table.
“So,” she says at last, “while we’re on the subject of eating, do you mind me asking you a question? It’s for research purposes,” she adds.
She has that oh-so-casual tone in her voice the twins would get when they were sitting on something huge and feeling particularly smug about it. Knowing I’ll regret it, I brace myself and reply, trying to sound unconcerned, “Fire away, then.”
I still very nearly slice two fingers off when she asks, “Do you like giving head? Or do you just pretend to like it for your partner’s sake?”
“Ginny!” I squeak, mortified.
“Because, personally, I love it,” she continues, swinging her legs a little, like a young child. “But some of the others don’t.”
“Others?” I ask, faintly.
“Yes, others,” she says, as if this conversation is normal and straightforward, not incredibly frightening. “The other girls from school.”
“Oh.”
“Hannah won’t do it at all,” Ginny elaborates. “So she’d better hold tight to Neville, because there’s plenty who’d get on their knees for him, and not all of them are girls. Luna said she doesn’t mind it, but that her mouth is too small to do anything but suck the head of Dean’s cock, so mostly she licks him and plays with his balls.”
My mind instantly generates an unwanted image of Luna kneeling in front of Dean, her lips wrapped around the tip of his thick, dark penis. As if from a distance I hear Ginny saying, “And Hermione, naturally, will suck but won’t swallow. Says it’s unhygienic.” Ginny emphasised her contempt by rolling her eyes dramatically.
The half-chopped vegetables lie forgotten, and the uncooked pastry is drying out through my neglect. “You got Hermione to talk about giving blowjobs?” I ask, disbelievingly.
“Well, she did get very drunk at that party and Terry had to go to the loo at some point. I just waited till he left her on her own.”
“You’re evil,” I say with an air of mild horror.
“Thank you,” Ginny replies, as though I just complemented her. “And I love going down on Shay because it drives him wild. He swears a blue streak in Irish when he’s close to coming, and afterwards, he’ll do anything I want,” she concludes, smugly.
I struggle, unsuccessfully, to banish the picture of Seamus lying on his back, sweating and cursing, with Ginny’s red hair falling in a curtain around his crotch.
“So I decided you were an ideal person to ask, since you’re a guy,” she says with satisfaction at her well-thought-out plan. “And you know what it’s like to give head and receive it.”
“Um…Ron’s never…I mean…” I stammer, even as a whole set of new images forms in my mind, these ones liable to make me have to dash upstairs for a quick wank before dinner.
Ginny looks shocked. “That selfish bastard!” she spits.
“No, no,” I backpedal, realising the conclusion she’s drawn. “I haven’t either.”
She looks totally unconvinced. “You’ve been together for months,” she says slowly. “You’re honestly telling me you’ve never given each other a blowjob?”
My face glowing like the sun, I mumble something that Ginny correctly interprets as “no”.
“Well, then,” she purrs. “How about I give you a few pointers?”
I know that it’s futile to refuse. She’ll tell me anyway. So I nod, and Ginny smiles like a predator with a mouth full of sharp teeth. She hops down from her perch and starts helping me chop carrots with intimidating efficiency.
“Now then…” she begins.
The hour that follows is one of the most horrifically embarrassing and informative of my life to date.
<- 32. Presumption c@r 34. Domesticity ->
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Ron/Harry
Word Count: 1,071
Rating: R
Warnings: Bucketloads of Embarrassment. One frightening female. Sex talk. Mention of het.
Summary: Ron is clueless. Harry is clueless. Luckily (?) George and Ginny are there to help.
A/N: Sorry about the long delay. Holiday season, and writer's block, and all that.
Well, I figured, too much Plot lately and not enough of the light relief. So this chapter's a bit of a timeout after the angstyness of the whole Skeeter debacle and Ron vs Percy.
The word 'nutsack' is in this story purely because Emma hates it, and I told her months ago I'd work it into a fic, just for her. ;)
Some of the storyline for this chapter may have been inspired by a certain poll on a certain person's journal a while back. You know you are.
The Teapot 'verse Series
Chapter List HERE
Future Fics HERE
Teapot Cookie Fics HERE
“You really are daft, aren’t you?” George’s pronouncement holds an element of wonder, as though he’s fascinated by the magnitude of my stupidity.
I finish locking the shop door and ask the question I know George wants me to ask. “What have I done now?” I sigh.
“Nothing,” he smirks. “That’s the point.”
I shake my head tiredly. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I am making complete sense. You’re the one who wouldn’t notice someone was making a pass at you unless they walked up and grabbed your nutsack.”
“What?!” I try to think up coherent replies, but instead my brain is frantically searching for something that had happened during the day that could be construed as ‘a pass’. I come up blank. “Who?”
George has that smug bastard look on his face. “That last customer. The blonde one who looked like a Quidditch player.”
Blonde? Oh, yeah. Thinking hard about it, he had been blonde. “He was just being friendly. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Friendly?” George chortles. “Ron, nobody loiters round a shop for over an hour then buys something small at the very last second before leaving unless they’re up to something. I nearly kicked him out for shoplifting before I saw what he was doing.”
I can feel my face starting to flush. “Maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted.”
“ ‘What does this one do, Mr Weasley?’ ‘How does that work, Mr Weasley?’ ” George repeats in a sing-song voice. “Never mind that it’s all right there on the packaging. I think he knew exactly what he wanted.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“You honestly didn’t notice?” George asks. I shake my head, feeling hideously embarrassed and, for some reason, guilty.
“And I’m the one who’s single,” he says incredulously, as he begins counting the till.
*****************************
I am thoroughly engrossed in dinner preparations, so much so that I don’t hear someone enter the kitchen. Molly’s cookbook is open and I am muttering to myself as I measure out ingredients into the self-stirring mixing bowl when an amused voice comments, “You’re very intense, you know. It’s just food.”
I jump and swear, dropping the cup. A fine dusting of flour settles on all the nearby surfaces, and I sneeze violently. “You’d better not say that near your brothers,” I splutter, “They’d think it was blasphemy.”
Ginny dismisses my warning with an unconcerned shrug. “I’ve seen some of the things they eat. They’re hardly on the moral high ground. Ron, for one, would probably put anything in his mouth if you told him he should.”
Ginny puts slight emphasis on you in that last sentence, but I don’t think anything of it. She is silent for a little while, but I’m hyperaware of her behind me, sitting on the edge of the kitchen table.
“So,” she says at last, “while we’re on the subject of eating, do you mind me asking you a question? It’s for research purposes,” she adds.
She has that oh-so-casual tone in her voice the twins would get when they were sitting on something huge and feeling particularly smug about it. Knowing I’ll regret it, I brace myself and reply, trying to sound unconcerned, “Fire away, then.”
I still very nearly slice two fingers off when she asks, “Do you like giving head? Or do you just pretend to like it for your partner’s sake?”
“Ginny!” I squeak, mortified.
“Because, personally, I love it,” she continues, swinging her legs a little, like a young child. “But some of the others don’t.”
“Others?” I ask, faintly.
“Yes, others,” she says, as if this conversation is normal and straightforward, not incredibly frightening. “The other girls from school.”
“Oh.”
“Hannah won’t do it at all,” Ginny elaborates. “So she’d better hold tight to Neville, because there’s plenty who’d get on their knees for him, and not all of them are girls. Luna said she doesn’t mind it, but that her mouth is too small to do anything but suck the head of Dean’s cock, so mostly she licks him and plays with his balls.”
My mind instantly generates an unwanted image of Luna kneeling in front of Dean, her lips wrapped around the tip of his thick, dark penis. As if from a distance I hear Ginny saying, “And Hermione, naturally, will suck but won’t swallow. Says it’s unhygienic.” Ginny emphasised her contempt by rolling her eyes dramatically.
The half-chopped vegetables lie forgotten, and the uncooked pastry is drying out through my neglect. “You got Hermione to talk about giving blowjobs?” I ask, disbelievingly.
“Well, she did get very drunk at that party and Terry had to go to the loo at some point. I just waited till he left her on her own.”
“You’re evil,” I say with an air of mild horror.
“Thank you,” Ginny replies, as though I just complemented her. “And I love going down on Shay because it drives him wild. He swears a blue streak in Irish when he’s close to coming, and afterwards, he’ll do anything I want,” she concludes, smugly.
I struggle, unsuccessfully, to banish the picture of Seamus lying on his back, sweating and cursing, with Ginny’s red hair falling in a curtain around his crotch.
“So I decided you were an ideal person to ask, since you’re a guy,” she says with satisfaction at her well-thought-out plan. “And you know what it’s like to give head and receive it.”
“Um…Ron’s never…I mean…” I stammer, even as a whole set of new images forms in my mind, these ones liable to make me have to dash upstairs for a quick wank before dinner.
Ginny looks shocked. “That selfish bastard!” she spits.
“No, no,” I backpedal, realising the conclusion she’s drawn. “I haven’t either.”
She looks totally unconvinced. “You’ve been together for months,” she says slowly. “You’re honestly telling me you’ve never given each other a blowjob?”
My face glowing like the sun, I mumble something that Ginny correctly interprets as “no”.
“Well, then,” she purrs. “How about I give you a few pointers?”
I know that it’s futile to refuse. She’ll tell me anyway. So I nod, and Ginny smiles like a predator with a mouth full of sharp teeth. She hops down from her perch and starts helping me chop carrots with intimidating efficiency.
“Now then…” she begins.
The hour that follows is one of the most horrifically embarrassing and informative of my life to date.
<- 32. Presumption c@r 34. Domesticity ->