The Snog of The Year Award
Like Candy from a Baby by Scordah.
"Part your lips a little," instructed Ron, as if from far away. Harry's mouth quirked, then opened. His challenging gaze met Ron's for an instant before Harry closed his eyes, his expression one of sarcastic supplication.
In a rustle of silk, Ron bent forwards to touch lips with Harry. Ron could feel the shock of the touch jolt through Harry before he was still once more. Harry's hands clenched into fists against the sofa cushions.
Still connected mouth to mouth, Ron tilted his head and slipped his tongue past Harry's teeth. Harry was immediately responsive, drawing a gasp of air from within Ron's mouth and stiffening.
Although he hadn't meant to do anything more than kiss Harry, Ron found himself stroking Harry's neck to relax him. His fingers dipped into Harry's thick, heavy hair, teasing the sensitive skin around his hairline where Ron himself liked to be touched. After a pathetically short time, Harry submitted to Ron's caresses. His hands left the sofa to slide around Ron's waist, gently rubbing the nubbly satin of his dressing gown.
Ron pushed Harry's lips further apart with his own, roughly, because this was where things always got rough. It was generally also when Ron got …
And yes, this time was no exception. Ron put the worry of explaining that away to the back of his mind, concentrating instead on the surprising softness of Harry's mouth. The word unforgettable drifted across his mind, but that was easy to quash.
The cold fear uncoiling in Ron's gut, demanding to know What have you done?, reminded him that he'd started this to prove a point. Brushing mouths with Harry, heady and disorienting as it was (and had not been since the very first time he'd kissed a boy), was not enough.
Ron's hand tightened on Harry's neck, eliciting a shiver from him, as he licked his tongue deep into Harry's mouth. He stroked Harry's tongue with it and this time, Harry did not just shiver, he jumped.
The finishing touch, Ron thought muzzily. He curled his tongue around Harry's to draw it out between his lips … and sucked on it.
His mind went into a tailspin of lust as he sucked harder and more enthusiastically, forgetting for a moment whose tongue it was. Under his arm Harry's shoulders jerked -- once, twice, three times -- as Ron kissed him for dear life, his thumb searching out the fluttering pulse in Harry's neck.
Ron had a lot more self-control than Harry. Bob, for all his misapprehensions about chilli sauce, had known a thing or two about willpower. But it was all melting away in the face of Harry's ragged little breaths and the sloppy, erotic way his tongue was slipping over and under Ron's own.
White sparks began building behind Ron's eyes. For a moment, his arousal prevailed over his sense and he shoved Harry back against the sofa. All the things his body was accustomed to doing -- sliding one thigh up between two, arching against the pleasing protrusion of a hipbone, slipping a hand under the shirt that was barring him from the hot skin underneath -- he began.
Congratulations!!