[FIC] Take Me Purely - One-shot
Title: Take Me Purely
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R
Warning: Antsy sap and inexplicit sex
Summary: Draco was unforgiving and unrelenting, even to himself. He refused to acknowledge what they both knew, that Ron wanted him, and he wanted Ron too.
A/N: My debut R/D fic. :3 I'm actually working on another one, but as that one is giving me a headache, I decided to find another distraction.
It wasn't in the gestures. It wasn't in the aggressive confrontations. It was especially not in the words, for words were the stuff of which lies were made.
No, it was in the glance, the hooded look from the corner of the eyes. It was in the heated glare that pierced him from the other end of the hall. It was in the fiery passion that clashed with the words of dripping poison.
Ron wanted him. And Draco wanted Ron too.
But he would never tell him. He did not tell him, not when they were at Hogwarts and not when they fought side-by-side in the war. He did not tell him, not even after the final battle, when Ron seized him to give him a desperate kiss that tasted of anxiety and relief.
Draco was unforgiving and unrelenting, even to himself. He refused to acknowledge what they both knew. At work, he buried himself in endless tasks of petty importance; at home, he slept dreamlessly with the aid of potions. He denied his thoughts, he denied his desires. Even so, he could not help but want him, so much so that he was forced to flee when he next saw him again.
They were at the annual Yule Ball held by the Ministry. Draco glimpsed a shock of red hair, met an intense sidelong glance. He bit his lip and turned away, just so that he could breathe again.
Ron caught up to him in the garden, behind a pillar carved with endless vines of flowers and leaves. Ron caught him, but didn't say a word. He only held him, fiercely and gently at the same time, with a calloused hand over Draco's heart to reassure himself of his existence. And Draco didn't turn, because if he saw, he would know, and for now he just wanted to pretend. So he clasped that warm hand and turned his head to feel that rough-shaven cheek against his own. And they danced slowly in the soft shadows of the night, savouring the short minutes of their fairytale time.
And then the fairytale ended, right before the happily-ever-after. It ended with a hard kiss of sorrow and of need that lingered on Draco's lips even when he was safely in his bed again, the potion warm in his stomach. And that night, he slept without dreaming once more.
The next time he saw him again, Draco was ready with a script of spitting venom to turn him away, but the soft look in Ron's eyes stopped him before a single word could come out. And despite them being in Draco's office, despite the hubbub of many people outside his door, he could not refuse him. He could not refuse those eyes that could strip away his layers of lies and see the truth inside of him. Draco was the first to look away.
This time, Ron crushed him to the wall and entwined their fingers, as if binding them together. Draco wanted to shut his eyes, but every twitch of Ron's eyelids mesmerized him. And there was that familiar nose, those hidden freckles; there was that warm skin that Draco had always wanted to feel with his hands, his lips, his skin. Ron's face was close enough for him to touch; all he had to do was reach.
So he did. He reached out and put face against face, rubbing gently to remember this man again. And Ron patiently let him.
The first touch of lips against lips was hesitant, almost unfamiliar. Then came many more soft kisses that brushed against Draco's skin like the fleeting wind. When that slick tongue finally swept across his lips, he opened his mouth and took all of Ron into him.
A firm arm wrapped tightly around him, eliminating that centimetre of space between them. Draco shuddered from the vivid heat and pressed closer, wanting more, always more. His hands rose and latched onto Ron's face, feeling for themselves his presence. Ron's hand tugged softly at Draco's hair, as if wanting to reach under his skin. It moved down his neck and rubbed against his back, finally coming to rest on his shoulder blade. His fingers spread out and dug in, as if to grab hold of Draco's thudding heart.
'You're alive, you're alive,' that tight grip said.
'You're here,' Draco's hands responded desperately, 'you're here.'
When Ron finally left Draco's lips, it was with a growl of reluctance. He smoothed away blond bangs to rest their foreheads together, his eyes unerringly holding Draco's dazed ones. They breathed deeply on each others lips, looking, looking, always looking.
Draco knew what Ron was trying to say, as surely as Ron knew the truth inside his soul. His blue eyes hid nothing, because he wanted Draco to know, he wanted Draco to feel it.
'I want you,' that devouring blue said. 'Be mine.'
Draco shifted his arms to clamp around a broad chest, as if in helpless acknowledgement. He'd already sworn that he would never say it, not before, not now, especially not now. Even so, he couldn't help it; he wanted him, he wanted everything, so please, please, please understand. And Ron accepted this silent reply, with grave understanding and sad love, and simply held him.
Then Ron was gone, and Draco was back at his desk, working at mundane tasks that he couldn't concentrate on because of the heat surrounding him. That night, he wrapped lonely arms around himself and cried himself to sleep.
The next time that he saw Ron again, it was in the deep silence of the dark night. Draco had come home only to find that he'd run out of ingredients for his potion. He didn't want to sleep and dream of Ron's gentle warmth, and so he wandered aimlessly.
They came upon each other in the shadows of an overhead bridge. Draco froze in his steps, unwilling to face Ron, yet unable to turn away. Ron gazed at him steadily for long moment, asking with his eyes and pleading with his silence. His glance was patient, always patient, always waiting for Draco's reply.
'Now?' those grave blue eyes asked. 'Now?'
Draco heaved out a soft sob and squeezed his eyes closed. He could not accept, yet he could not refuse. Ron read the truth in his face, read his need, and within seconds he had Draco in his warm grasp. Draco turned towards the source of that heat, muffling his cries on that broad chest. He wanted, he wanted so much, and Ron held him dearly, and held him up, relief obvious in his grip and in the kisses that he showered on Draco's head.
That dawn found them in Draco's bed, entwined in each others arms. They made sweet love again and again, and Ron refused to let him go for even a second. They made love until Draco started crying again, his tears trailing down Ron's chest. And Ron softly comforted him with kisses and his silent presence, and wiped his tears away. His arms spoke of love, and his eyes spoke of understanding, of acceptance.
'It's okay,' they said. 'You're okay.'
Draco finally pushed himself up from Ron's chest, shuddering at the heat from where they were joined. Ron steadied him wordlessly and gazed at him with tender love.
Draco took those big, gentle hands that reached out for him. They had reached out to him countless times, and he'd always refused them. But now, the truth needed to be said. He had to say it, he needed to say it. He'd never said it, not before, but maybe now. It was time now.
"I...I want you," Draco whispered gracelessly, tears blurring his vision. "I...need you." A sob tore out of his throat, and Ron stretched up to kiss his sadness away.
'It's okay,' those lips said soothingly, 'I'm here.'
Draco blinked quickly and caught those eyes that always searched for him, those eyes that had always held him so carefully. Those eyes were now expectant and gentle with hope.
Draco breathed slowly, in and out. It was time.
"I love you."
When his tears fell away, Draco was met with the sight of Ron's brilliant smile. There was gratitude there, and love, and a mix of relief, sadness, and joy. What he said with his gaze, Ron also said with his lips, his tongue, and his arms. And Draco instinctively fell into that gentleness, knowing that it would catch him.
"Love you," Ron whispered into his ear when they finally curled around one another in the tender heat. "I love you so much."
And Draco decided then and there that he needed nothing. He wanted nothing else but this man, this man whose eyes loved him, forever and ever.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R
Warning: Antsy sap and inexplicit sex
Summary: Draco was unforgiving and unrelenting, even to himself. He refused to acknowledge what they both knew, that Ron wanted him, and he wanted Ron too.
A/N: My debut R/D fic. :3 I'm actually working on another one, but as that one is giving me a headache, I decided to find another distraction.
It wasn't in the gestures. It wasn't in the aggressive confrontations. It was especially not in the words, for words were the stuff of which lies were made.
No, it was in the glance, the hooded look from the corner of the eyes. It was in the heated glare that pierced him from the other end of the hall. It was in the fiery passion that clashed with the words of dripping poison.
Ron wanted him. And Draco wanted Ron too.
But he would never tell him. He did not tell him, not when they were at Hogwarts and not when they fought side-by-side in the war. He did not tell him, not even after the final battle, when Ron seized him to give him a desperate kiss that tasted of anxiety and relief.
Draco was unforgiving and unrelenting, even to himself. He refused to acknowledge what they both knew. At work, he buried himself in endless tasks of petty importance; at home, he slept dreamlessly with the aid of potions. He denied his thoughts, he denied his desires. Even so, he could not help but want him, so much so that he was forced to flee when he next saw him again.
They were at the annual Yule Ball held by the Ministry. Draco glimpsed a shock of red hair, met an intense sidelong glance. He bit his lip and turned away, just so that he could breathe again.
Ron caught up to him in the garden, behind a pillar carved with endless vines of flowers and leaves. Ron caught him, but didn't say a word. He only held him, fiercely and gently at the same time, with a calloused hand over Draco's heart to reassure himself of his existence. And Draco didn't turn, because if he saw, he would know, and for now he just wanted to pretend. So he clasped that warm hand and turned his head to feel that rough-shaven cheek against his own. And they danced slowly in the soft shadows of the night, savouring the short minutes of their fairytale time.
And then the fairytale ended, right before the happily-ever-after. It ended with a hard kiss of sorrow and of need that lingered on Draco's lips even when he was safely in his bed again, the potion warm in his stomach. And that night, he slept without dreaming once more.
The next time he saw him again, Draco was ready with a script of spitting venom to turn him away, but the soft look in Ron's eyes stopped him before a single word could come out. And despite them being in Draco's office, despite the hubbub of many people outside his door, he could not refuse him. He could not refuse those eyes that could strip away his layers of lies and see the truth inside of him. Draco was the first to look away.
This time, Ron crushed him to the wall and entwined their fingers, as if binding them together. Draco wanted to shut his eyes, but every twitch of Ron's eyelids mesmerized him. And there was that familiar nose, those hidden freckles; there was that warm skin that Draco had always wanted to feel with his hands, his lips, his skin. Ron's face was close enough for him to touch; all he had to do was reach.
So he did. He reached out and put face against face, rubbing gently to remember this man again. And Ron patiently let him.
The first touch of lips against lips was hesitant, almost unfamiliar. Then came many more soft kisses that brushed against Draco's skin like the fleeting wind. When that slick tongue finally swept across his lips, he opened his mouth and took all of Ron into him.
A firm arm wrapped tightly around him, eliminating that centimetre of space between them. Draco shuddered from the vivid heat and pressed closer, wanting more, always more. His hands rose and latched onto Ron's face, feeling for themselves his presence. Ron's hand tugged softly at Draco's hair, as if wanting to reach under his skin. It moved down his neck and rubbed against his back, finally coming to rest on his shoulder blade. His fingers spread out and dug in, as if to grab hold of Draco's thudding heart.
'You're alive, you're alive,' that tight grip said.
'You're here,' Draco's hands responded desperately, 'you're here.'
When Ron finally left Draco's lips, it was with a growl of reluctance. He smoothed away blond bangs to rest their foreheads together, his eyes unerringly holding Draco's dazed ones. They breathed deeply on each others lips, looking, looking, always looking.
Draco knew what Ron was trying to say, as surely as Ron knew the truth inside his soul. His blue eyes hid nothing, because he wanted Draco to know, he wanted Draco to feel it.
'I want you,' that devouring blue said. 'Be mine.'
Draco shifted his arms to clamp around a broad chest, as if in helpless acknowledgement. He'd already sworn that he would never say it, not before, not now, especially not now. Even so, he couldn't help it; he wanted him, he wanted everything, so please, please, please understand. And Ron accepted this silent reply, with grave understanding and sad love, and simply held him.
Then Ron was gone, and Draco was back at his desk, working at mundane tasks that he couldn't concentrate on because of the heat surrounding him. That night, he wrapped lonely arms around himself and cried himself to sleep.
The next time that he saw Ron again, it was in the deep silence of the dark night. Draco had come home only to find that he'd run out of ingredients for his potion. He didn't want to sleep and dream of Ron's gentle warmth, and so he wandered aimlessly.
They came upon each other in the shadows of an overhead bridge. Draco froze in his steps, unwilling to face Ron, yet unable to turn away. Ron gazed at him steadily for long moment, asking with his eyes and pleading with his silence. His glance was patient, always patient, always waiting for Draco's reply.
'Now?' those grave blue eyes asked. 'Now?'
Draco heaved out a soft sob and squeezed his eyes closed. He could not accept, yet he could not refuse. Ron read the truth in his face, read his need, and within seconds he had Draco in his warm grasp. Draco turned towards the source of that heat, muffling his cries on that broad chest. He wanted, he wanted so much, and Ron held him dearly, and held him up, relief obvious in his grip and in the kisses that he showered on Draco's head.
That dawn found them in Draco's bed, entwined in each others arms. They made sweet love again and again, and Ron refused to let him go for even a second. They made love until Draco started crying again, his tears trailing down Ron's chest. And Ron softly comforted him with kisses and his silent presence, and wiped his tears away. His arms spoke of love, and his eyes spoke of understanding, of acceptance.
'It's okay,' they said. 'You're okay.'
Draco finally pushed himself up from Ron's chest, shuddering at the heat from where they were joined. Ron steadied him wordlessly and gazed at him with tender love.
Draco took those big, gentle hands that reached out for him. They had reached out to him countless times, and he'd always refused them. But now, the truth needed to be said. He had to say it, he needed to say it. He'd never said it, not before, but maybe now. It was time now.
"I...I want you," Draco whispered gracelessly, tears blurring his vision. "I...need you." A sob tore out of his throat, and Ron stretched up to kiss his sadness away.
'It's okay,' those lips said soothingly, 'I'm here.'
Draco blinked quickly and caught those eyes that always searched for him, those eyes that had always held him so carefully. Those eyes were now expectant and gentle with hope.
Draco breathed slowly, in and out. It was time.
"I love you."
When his tears fell away, Draco was met with the sight of Ron's brilliant smile. There was gratitude there, and love, and a mix of relief, sadness, and joy. What he said with his gaze, Ron also said with his lips, his tongue, and his arms. And Draco instinctively fell into that gentleness, knowing that it would catch him.
"Love you," Ron whispered into his ear when they finally curled around one another in the tender heat. "I love you so much."
And Draco decided then and there that he needed nothing. He wanted nothing else but this man, this man whose eyes loved him, forever and ever.