Drabble: "Wrong"
Title: Wrong
Author: MamaLaz
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R-NC17 (Gasp!)
Warnings: Adult Language.
Summary: Ron knows it's wrong, but it doesn't stop him from doing it.
Link:
Wrong
He shouldn't be here. He knows that really. Deep down inside, where rationality is hiding just passed reasoning, he knows.
White-blond hair should not be brushing against his eyes. A thin, smirking pair of lips should not be nipping at his throat. And a small, pale white hand should definitely not find its way where Malfoy's had found his.
No. Ron should be at home.
He should be with his wife. With his children. With his famous best friend and his loving family at the Burrow. Watching Fred and George attempt another trick on Percy. Laughing and teasing Harry while both Hermione and Mrs Weasley put extra food on his plate and scold him for being so skinny. Watching his hyperactive son do sloppy forward rolls in the grass while his daughter sits with her enormous colouring book and looks disapproving...
But no.
Ron was here. In Malfoy Manor. In the middle of a soiree. Lying in bed with Draco Malfoy and fucking the blond senseless in Lucius Malfoy's bedroom. Pale legs tossed over his shoulders, freckled hands clutching at a thin pair of hips and a headboard thumping and scraping so hard against the wall that it was tearing at the wallpaper.
And he knows it's wrong.
He closes his eyes and tilts back his head, Malfoy's rampant screams in his ears as he lets out a hiss that slowly progresses into a long ragged choke.
They clutch and gasp and roll their hips and say so many unintelligible words that they can't be counted or remembered. And neither want them to be anyway.
Things blur and fade and get fuzzy at the edges and sharp, searing, almost agonising pain rips itself into something that makes them both groan and moan and, in Draco's case, swear profusely.
And Ron knows it's wrong. Even when he explodes, completely blinded with the mind-blowing impact, he knows. But that doesn't stop him from clutching the Malfoy against him, almost breaking the fragile body beneath him in his urgency.
They shudder against each other and Ron steals another few kisses. And, although he knows it's wrong, he steals a couple more; lips brushing a flushed cheekbone, a clammy neck, and a thin, breathless, slighted parted pink-lipped mouth.
And as he begins changing back into his clothes with Malfoy watching him through sharp grey eyes from the bed - still as naked as the day he was born and covered from head to foot in lovebites - Ron hears the sneering words,
"You can't fucking have us both, you know."
And deep down, Ron knows. But that doesn't mean he won't try to.
Author: MamaLaz
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R-NC17 (Gasp!)
Warnings: Adult Language.
Summary: Ron knows it's wrong, but it doesn't stop him from doing it.
Link:
Wrong
He shouldn't be here. He knows that really. Deep down inside, where rationality is hiding just passed reasoning, he knows.
White-blond hair should not be brushing against his eyes. A thin, smirking pair of lips should not be nipping at his throat. And a small, pale white hand should definitely not find its way where Malfoy's had found his.
No. Ron should be at home.
He should be with his wife. With his children. With his famous best friend and his loving family at the Burrow. Watching Fred and George attempt another trick on Percy. Laughing and teasing Harry while both Hermione and Mrs Weasley put extra food on his plate and scold him for being so skinny. Watching his hyperactive son do sloppy forward rolls in the grass while his daughter sits with her enormous colouring book and looks disapproving...
But no.
Ron was here. In Malfoy Manor. In the middle of a soiree. Lying in bed with Draco Malfoy and fucking the blond senseless in Lucius Malfoy's bedroom. Pale legs tossed over his shoulders, freckled hands clutching at a thin pair of hips and a headboard thumping and scraping so hard against the wall that it was tearing at the wallpaper.
And he knows it's wrong.
He closes his eyes and tilts back his head, Malfoy's rampant screams in his ears as he lets out a hiss that slowly progresses into a long ragged choke.
They clutch and gasp and roll their hips and say so many unintelligible words that they can't be counted or remembered. And neither want them to be anyway.
Things blur and fade and get fuzzy at the edges and sharp, searing, almost agonising pain rips itself into something that makes them both groan and moan and, in Draco's case, swear profusely.
And Ron knows it's wrong. Even when he explodes, completely blinded with the mind-blowing impact, he knows. But that doesn't stop him from clutching the Malfoy against him, almost breaking the fragile body beneath him in his urgency.
They shudder against each other and Ron steals another few kisses. And, although he knows it's wrong, he steals a couple more; lips brushing a flushed cheekbone, a clammy neck, and a thin, breathless, slighted parted pink-lipped mouth.
And as he begins changing back into his clothes with Malfoy watching him through sharp grey eyes from the bed - still as naked as the day he was born and covered from head to foot in lovebites - Ron hears the sneering words,
"You can't fucking have us both, you know."
And deep down, Ron knows. But that doesn't mean he won't try to.