Round 5: - Injury - Team B - "Injury"
Title: Injury
LJ username: Anonymous
Team: Anonymous
Prompt: Injury
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3,499 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Shower!sex, wanking.
Disclaimer: All sexual activity portrayed in this fic is between two consenting adults who are at least 18 years of age. I do not own any of the characters.
Injury
A weary Harry Potter sat down at his desk and glared reproachfully over his glasses at the hedgehog and llama that sat guiltily opposite.
“Well. Do either of you have anything to say?”
The copper-coloured hedgehog rubbed its anxious paws together. The snow-white llama bared its buck-teeth supremely.
Harry sighed. “Benson, can you change them back anytime soon? I can’t take this seriously.”
The little wizard, who had been buzzing around the animals and muttering in Latin, waved his wand tentatively. There was a sudden burst of smoke, then much to Harry’s relief, the animals vanished and a pair of very disgruntled wizards now sat on the floor.
Ron Weasley, though relieved that he was no longer covered in spindles, nervously awaited Harry’s berating. He often wondered if it was worth attending Harry’s post-grad DADA school, as the Best Friend status only got him so far at times like this.
“Guys, I’m getting tired of this.” Harry began. “Last week, Ron came in with a spatula for a hand, the week before, Malfoy’s lips were growing hair! Every other day, I see the two of you in here with some deformity or other-”
“Don’t blame it on me, Potter, Weasley was born like that.”
“Up yours, Malfoy!”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Weasley?”
“ENOUGH!” Harry bellowed. “If this goes on, eventually you’re going to cause a serious injury! The two of you need to sort your issues out. I don’t want this to happen again, or I warn you, there will be consequences!”
~*~
“Well, look who finally showed his speckled mug. Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Weasel?”
Ron scowled as he took his assigned seat next to Malfoy. As usual, the git had taken up as much of the desk as possible, leaving barely a square inch for Ron to put his things. It was one of many reasons why Draco Malfoy infuriated Ron so.
“Move your shit.” Ron hissed.
“Suck my dick.”
Ron glared, knocking Draco’s bag to the floor so he had enough space to open his book.
“Whoops.” Ron snarled, finding the section the rest of the class was reading and picking up his quill to take notes. Just as he finished writing a particularly long and complicated sentence, a pale elbow jostled him, streaking ink across the parchment and ruining all his notes.
“Whoops.” Malfoy mimicked, smirking.
“You did that on purpose!” Ron growled. “You owe me today’s notes!”
“Stick it up your arse, Weasley.” Malfoy lowered his voice an octave. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first thing that’s been up there.”
Ron’s snappy comeback froze on the tip of his tongue as both Malfoy’s words and knowing smirk settled in.
“Don’t be stupid.” Ron blurted, overwhelmed with sudden panic and nausea.
Malfoy laughed softly. “Oh please. You really think it’s not obvious? As though your tragically short lived romance with Granger wasn’t hint enough, your pathetically inept attempts to hide that charming Weasley blush right now confirm it.”
“I’m not blushing.” Ron hissed. “And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that this information is very valuable in the hands of someone like me.” Draco leaned towards Ron, smirk still decorating his pale face.
Ron gaped. Malfoy was actually going to try and blackmail him?
“Well?” Draco leered. Ron snapped.
The class gasped as Ron Weasley threw himself forwards and knocked both himself and Draco Malfoy onto the classroom floor, kicking, punching and scratching every bit he could reach.
“Look out!” Someone shouted, right before everything went black.
~*~
“Ron? Can you hear me?”
Ron opened his eyes, the pain nearly causing him to pass out again. The concerned face of his best friend swam into view.
“Harry?” Ron croaked. “Why are you speaking with an echo?”
“You okay?” Harry asked.
“I- I think so.” Ron nodded, wincing as his head throbbed. “What happened?”
Harry frowned. “You didn’t listen to me.”
Ron shook his head foggily. “So you beat me up?”
Harry put his hands on his hips. “Actually, Malfoy did. Honestly, Ron, when I told you to ‘sort it out’, I didn’t mean ‘put Malfoy in a coma’, for goodness-”
Coma? “Shit, is he okay?”
Harry bit his lip, looking awkward. “He’s fine, Ron. He, uh, gave me a pretty good idea of what happened.”
Ron frowned. Was Harry blushing?
“Mr Malfoy, kindly remain in bed!”
Harry sighed and turned around. Ron craned his head to see Malfoy hauling himself to his feet, pulling bandages away from his badly bruised limbs as he did so.
“Oh for heavens sake, I’m perfectly-” Draco swayed and tilted alarmingly to the left, barely catching himself on the bedpost before he hit the floor.
“Malfoy. Get into bed and stay there until we sort you out. Ron. Come with me.” Harry growled, jerking his head in the direction of his office.
Ron swallowed, following with heavy steps.
Once the door to his office was closed, Harry cast wards and silencing charms. Then he rounded on his best mate.
“Well?”
Ron bit his lip. “Harry, I’m really sorry-”
“I’m not the one you should be apologising to!” Harry snapped. “Christ Ron, how many punches did you throw at him? You’re lucky he’s not brain damaged! What on Earth could he have said to provoke that sort of attack?”
Ron blushed furiously. Harry didn’t know he was gay, and Ron had no intention of giving any indication. Admitting that Malfoy had hit the nail right on the head was just too excruciating to even consider.
Harry sighed. “Ron, Malfoy lives by himself. His parents disowned him, and the hospital won’t let him stay.”
Ron frowned, not knowing where Harry was going with this.
Harry tutted impatiently. “Go and get him, Ron.”
“Are you taking him home with you?” Ron gaped.
“No.”
Ron breathed a sigh of relief.
“You are.”
“What?” Ron almost choked.
Harry nodded. “I’m giving the both of you two weeks off. Assignments will be sent home, and you can make sure Malfoy doesn’t over exert himself.”
“Harry, you can’t be serious! We’ll kill each other!”
“No, you won’t. I think this will be good for you.”
Ron doubted that, for many many reasons.
~*~
“Unbelievable! Potter actually expects me to live here for a week?” Draco cast disdainful eyes over Ron’s apartment.
Ron glared. “I didn’t exactly beg him, Malfoy.”
Draco’s continued to look around the room, anywhere besides straight at Ron. “Just drop me back home, Weasley.”
Ron shook his head. “Forget it. Harry’s already pissed off with me as it is.”
Draco looked like he might argue, but groaned loudly as a sudden burst of pain shot through his head. “Merlin, what did I do to deserve this?”
Ron flushed. “Lets see, you accused me of being gay, then tried to use that information to blackmail me.”
Draco gave Ron a very odd look for a split second, then went back to switching his gaze between the wall and the table top. The next words he spoke, he seemed to be choosing very carefully.
“Even if I was trying to use that information to blackmail you - and I’m not saying I was - why would it matter? Do you think its something to be ashamed of?”
“No, I don’t. And I’m not.” Ron flustered.
Draco’s expression was purely unreadable as he shrugged and said. “I see.”
An awkward silence lingered after those words. Ron struggled to come up with something to say, but his mind kept drawing him to the one tell-tale wrinkle between Malfoy’s eyes.
Quite suddenly, Draco pushed himself back from the table and strode past Ron with a not-so-gentle bump. “Right. I’m going upstairs for a while. Call me when dinner is ready. Assuming it’s palatable, of course.”
Ron groaned. It was going to be a long two weeks.
~*~
Seven days later.
“Mafloy!” Ron roared, thundering down his stairs clad in nothing but a towel. “You used all the fucking hot water again!”
“Simple heating charm too much for you, Weasley?” Draco sneered. “It’s hardly my fault that your primitive water tank is barely large enough for a simple wash.”
Ron glared. “There’s nothing wrong with my bathroom. Maybe if you didn’t spend all morning wanking in the shower, I’d be able to clean myself every now and then!”
The glow of Malfoy’s cheeks was a dead giveaway; Ron had struck a nerve. But rather than an internal crow of triumph, Ron suddenly found himself confronted with an image of Malfoy, naked, wet, and stroking himself furiously under the spray of steaming water.
Gah! Why? Why did that nasty image sneak into Ron’s minds eye?
Even worse; why was Ron’s traitorous body reacting to it?
And, why oh God why, was Ron only wearing a towel just now?
“Just… just try and hurry up in future.” Ron babbled, gripping his towel tightly around his waist before he turned and fled up the stairs.
~*~
Once he was behind the safety of his bedroom door, Ron cast the towel across the room and groaned as he took hold of his swollen, sensitive cock.
So wrong, so very very wrong,, Ron thought, hating himself as he imagined white-blonde hair and soulful grey eyes. In his mind, Malfoy had followed him up the stairs, confused as to why Ron had hurried away.
Weasley, what the hell is wrong with- oh.
Ron moaned and squeezed the head of his prick as he imagined Malfoy’s reaction. He would blush softly, let his eyes fall to Ron’s groin.
See something you like, Malfoy?
Arrogant as ever, Malfoy would swagger into the room, take hold of Ron’s cock like he owned the thing. And he would smirk, that infuriating smirk; Ron’s knees nearly gave out at the mere thought of it.
“Yes,” Ron hissed through his teeth, his hand speeding up. “Touch me.”
Malfoy would touch his cock, pulling and teasing, porcelain cheekbones glowing pink as he worked Ron’s erection. His lips would start to wander, over Ron’s neck, over his chest, pausing to suck at Ron’s very sensitive nipples.
“Oh God…” Ron threw his head back and leaned against the wall as his hand frantically tugged at his throbbing flesh. “Oh my fucking God!”
Over his stomach, trailing his pointed tongue down over Ron’s groin; and then Ron would push his cock forwards, stretching that arrogant smirk right off Malfoy’s face.
“Ahh!” Ron yelped as his cock started to pulse in orgasm. “Fuck, yes, Malfoy!”
Ron squeezed and milked his dick until the last pearly bead dripped onto the wooden floor. Only then did he slide down the wall, aghast at what he had just done.
~*~
The next few days were agony. Ron found himself snapping more and more at Malfoy, if only to provoke the heated arguments that Ron found himself using to fuel his late night wanking sessions.
Yet at the same time, Ron found himself enjoying Malfoy’s company more and more. Just the other day, the two had managed to share a conversation about Quidditch without insulting each other at all. Granted, the two held strong opinions and voiced them with passion, but without the vitriol, Malfoy’s argument was solid, self-assured, confident. Just like Malfoy himself. It was one of many reasons Ron was actually starting to find Draco not just tolerable, but likeable.
Which just made his developing obsession even worse.
“Morning, Weasel.”
Ron jumped and slopped tea over the table-top as Malfoy sauntered down the stairs, wearing nothing but his satin pyjama bottoms. Ron’s groin ached in longing at the sight of Malfoy’s pale chest, flawless but for a thin scar left from their sixth year.
As was becoming more and more frequent these days, Ron felt his blood heading south as that bare chest made its way closer to where Ron was sitting.
Filch in a bikini, Filch in a bikini, Filch in a bikini…
Draco stretched his arms over his head, the movement causing his bottoms to shift, revealing the tiniest glimpse of blonde pubic hair.
Ron’s brow started to sweat, and he hastily busied himself with his breakfast, hoping the frantic movements of his knife and fork would be enough to distract Malfoy from the bulge in his trousers.
“Good grief, Weasley, the aim of breakfast is not to see how many directions you can send it flying.” Malfoy wrinkled his nose as Ron chewed and slurped noisily on his syrup-drenched pancakes.
“Why don’t you do something useful and get the coffee?” Ron jabbed his fork at Malfoy, sending the slice of pancake on the end flying over the table…
…and landing on Malfoy’s chest.
Ron watched in horrified fascination as Malfoy peeled the sticky treat away from his milk-white skin and lifted it, ever so slowly, into his mouth.
“Mm. Not bad, Weasel. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting some?”
“What?” Ron balked, fighting away the urge to fling himself across the table and lick the smear of glistening syrup away.
Malfoy smirked (that infuriating smirk!) and raised his eyebrow. “Pancakes, Weasley. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting some pancakes?”
“No. I mean, yeah, sure. I mean, they’re in the kitchen, get them yourself.” Ron babbled, cheeks flaming.
He almost missed the glance Malfoy threw at his groin, before he sauntered out of the kitchen, smirk still in place.
He knows.
Ron burned with mortification as he recalled each and every time he’d gotten aroused in Malfoy’s presence. And the bastard had known all along.
Ron stood, ready to leave the house in disgust, when a smarmy voice drawled from the doorway, “Wow. You must really like pancakes.”
Ron glanced down at his waist, seething as he caught sight of his obviously tented pants. Then, he rounded on Malfoy.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Malfoy, but it stops right here. Your little game is over as of today.”
With that, Ron stepped into the fireplace and clenched his eyes against the whirl of green flames and grey eyes.
~*~
“This had better be important.” Harry warned as he took a seat at the bar next to his best friend. “I told you, I don’t want you leaving Malfoy for too long in his condition.”
Ron snorted. “The only condition Malfoy is suffering from is an acute case of being an absolute bastard.”
Harry frowned. “You said a few days ago that things were going smoothly. What happened?”
Tell him, Ron clenched his teeth and nervously ran his fingers through the condensation on his glass. Tell him now.
“Harry - Christ, this is awkward - the thing is, Malfoy knows something about me. And he’s been trying to use it to blackmail me. Or use it to mess with me. Or something. I don’t really know anymore, but the point is I’m… I’m gay.” Ron took a shuddering breath at glanced at Harry.
As expected, Harry was shaking his head in disappointment.
“Oh God, Ron…”
“I know.” Ron whispered, throat aching.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m gay.”
Harry snorted. “Well, yes, obviously, we all knew that. I meant, are you seriously telling me that you still haven’t caught on to Malfoy’s signals? Christ, I thought if I put you under the same roof as him, you might eventually catch on, but he’s right. You really are an idiot.”
“Wait, what?” Ron’s mind struggled to absorb everything Harry was saying. “You knew? Everyone knows? How is it that you know without me telling anyone?”
Harry gave him a look.
“Hermione.” They said in unison.
“And Malfoy? What signals are you talking about? The only signal he’s ever given me involves his middle finger. Besides, he’s not even gay.” Ron insisted.
Harry laughed. “Ron, he uses more hair product than Hermione, Fleur and Ginny put together.”
A fair point, Ron conceded.
There was only one more flaw in Harry’s logic to be resolved. “Why would someone like Malfoy want someone like me?”
Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back. “Why don’t you go and find out?”
~*~
Oh God, this is going to be so awkward.
“Mal- um, Draco? Are you still here?”
Nothing.
He’s already gone. Ron thought gloomily, ascending the stairs, heading vaguely to the bathroom to relieve himself of the drinks he’d had with Harry earlier.
Ron opened the door, inhaling sharply as he was suddenly faced with an image that he’d been using as wank-fodder for nearly two weeks.
Draco Malfoy. Naked, foaming, and wet under a steamy spray of water, his cock in one hand, and the other… oh God, the other hand was hidden behind his back.
Ron might be slow on the uptake, but he had no doubts as to what that hand was doing back there.
Perhaps it was the shock of stumbling across his latest and most stimulating fantasy, or perhaps it was the alcohol fuzzing his brain. But of all things to say, the best Ron could come up with was this.
“I thought I told you to start leaving hot water for me.”
Draco gaped. And then, miraculously, he laughed. Nervously, but a laugh still.
“I have been giving the matter a great deal of thought.” Draco said, calming down and nodding seriously. “I’ve decided the best way to conserve the pitiful amount of water in your prehistoric bathroom… would be to share it.”
Emboldened by Draco’s words, Ron strode across the bathroom and stepped, fully clothed into the shower.
“A Malfoy, sharing.” He tutted. “What is this world coming to?”
“Shut up, Weasley.” Draco groaned, rubbing his wet, naked body against Ron’s saturated garments.
Ron seized a handful of Draco’s hair and pulled. “Gladly, Malfoy.” He muttered, and pulled Draco in for a fierce kiss. He sucked and bit until Draco was breathless with want, before spinning the blonde around and pushing him hard against the shower wall.
Panting heavily, Draco stuck his arse out in a blatant demand for Ron’s attention, then yelped as Ron delivered a hearty smack.
“Oh ye-es…” Draco moaned as Ron soothed the sting with his hands, coated in what felt like Draco’s honey-flavoured shower milk. Ron’s slick hand lingered for a while over the red imprint, before drifting in between Draco’s cheeks.
“Oh God…” Ron bit Draco’s milk-white neck as his fingers were swallowed by Draco’s hole, as demanding and as greedy as Draco himself. He played with Draco’s arse, more to satisfy his own curiosity than for stretching Draco, as the wanton creature was certainly stretched enough as it was.
“Now, Ron.” Draco moaned, rocking back onto Ron’s hand. “Please, I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me now.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed breathlessly, unbuttoning his pants and tugging his cock from his soaked boxers with some difficulty. He lined himself up with Draco’s hole and pushed, gasping at the tight heat that effortlessly welcomed his cock.
“This feels incredible.” Ron moaned sincerely, pulling out and rocking back in. Draco keened in response, his head thrown back in sheer bliss.
“Stroke my cock.” Draco ordered. “Make me come while you fuck me.”
“Bossing someone else into doing all the work, as usual.” Ron smirked, biting Draco’s shoulder playfully.
“I’d hardly call the privilege of fucking me work, Weas- Oh!” Draco’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Ron took hold of his cock and squeezed, harder than anyone else ever had.
Weasley never had been afraid to be rough with Draco; it was one of many reasons Draco liked him.
Draco braced himself against the shower wall and eagerly welcomed the brutal strokes of Ron’s cock. The spray of hot water only added to the sensory stimulation, as did the inexplicably arousing feel of Ron’s wet clothes against his bare skin. The thought that Ron had been too impatient to do this to even strip his clothes off had Draco’s arousal climbing at an embarrassing speed.
“Ron! Ron, I’m going to come!” Draco warned, his hips canting as Ron gripped tighter and sped up the strokes of his large, calloused hand.
“That’s it, Malfoy, come with me inside you.” Ron groaned, pounding his hips furiously as his own orgasm seemed not far off.
“Oh god! Oh god!” Draco screamed, arching back and moaning wordlessly as his cock pulsed with pleasure and shot hot come all over the shower wall.
The contractions of Draco’s orgasm pulled Ron’s from him, and his fingers left bruises on Draco’s hips as he furiously rode out his own climax.
Hours later, after the pair had somehow managed to stumble to Ron’s bedroom for a second round, Ron lay awake watching the other man sleep, turning a somewhat unsettling thought over in his mind.
Draco Malfoy would always get under his skin, Ron decided. They would always inflame each other, and the sparks that had existed from the first day they’d met would never disappear.
These were the reasons any other person might tell Ron Weasley that this, whatever it was, would not work.
But Ron had a feeling they were also the reasons that it just might.
Finis
LJ username: Anonymous
Team: Anonymous
Prompt: Injury
Rating: PG-13
Length: 3,499 words
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Shower!sex, wanking.
Disclaimer: All sexual activity portrayed in this fic is between two consenting adults who are at least 18 years of age. I do not own any of the characters.
Injury
A weary Harry Potter sat down at his desk and glared reproachfully over his glasses at the hedgehog and llama that sat guiltily opposite.
“Well. Do either of you have anything to say?”
The copper-coloured hedgehog rubbed its anxious paws together. The snow-white llama bared its buck-teeth supremely.
Harry sighed. “Benson, can you change them back anytime soon? I can’t take this seriously.”
The little wizard, who had been buzzing around the animals and muttering in Latin, waved his wand tentatively. There was a sudden burst of smoke, then much to Harry’s relief, the animals vanished and a pair of very disgruntled wizards now sat on the floor.
Ron Weasley, though relieved that he was no longer covered in spindles, nervously awaited Harry’s berating. He often wondered if it was worth attending Harry’s post-grad DADA school, as the Best Friend status only got him so far at times like this.
“Guys, I’m getting tired of this.” Harry began. “Last week, Ron came in with a spatula for a hand, the week before, Malfoy’s lips were growing hair! Every other day, I see the two of you in here with some deformity or other-”
“Don’t blame it on me, Potter, Weasley was born like that.”
“Up yours, Malfoy!”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Weasley?”
“ENOUGH!” Harry bellowed. “If this goes on, eventually you’re going to cause a serious injury! The two of you need to sort your issues out. I don’t want this to happen again, or I warn you, there will be consequences!”
~*~
“Well, look who finally showed his speckled mug. Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Weasel?”
Ron scowled as he took his assigned seat next to Malfoy. As usual, the git had taken up as much of the desk as possible, leaving barely a square inch for Ron to put his things. It was one of many reasons why Draco Malfoy infuriated Ron so.
“Move your shit.” Ron hissed.
“Suck my dick.”
Ron glared, knocking Draco’s bag to the floor so he had enough space to open his book.
“Whoops.” Ron snarled, finding the section the rest of the class was reading and picking up his quill to take notes. Just as he finished writing a particularly long and complicated sentence, a pale elbow jostled him, streaking ink across the parchment and ruining all his notes.
“Whoops.” Malfoy mimicked, smirking.
“You did that on purpose!” Ron growled. “You owe me today’s notes!”
“Stick it up your arse, Weasley.” Malfoy lowered his voice an octave. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first thing that’s been up there.”
Ron’s snappy comeback froze on the tip of his tongue as both Malfoy’s words and knowing smirk settled in.
“Don’t be stupid.” Ron blurted, overwhelmed with sudden panic and nausea.
Malfoy laughed softly. “Oh please. You really think it’s not obvious? As though your tragically short lived romance with Granger wasn’t hint enough, your pathetically inept attempts to hide that charming Weasley blush right now confirm it.”
“I’m not blushing.” Ron hissed. “And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know that this information is very valuable in the hands of someone like me.” Draco leaned towards Ron, smirk still decorating his pale face.
Ron gaped. Malfoy was actually going to try and blackmail him?
“Well?” Draco leered. Ron snapped.
The class gasped as Ron Weasley threw himself forwards and knocked both himself and Draco Malfoy onto the classroom floor, kicking, punching and scratching every bit he could reach.
“Look out!” Someone shouted, right before everything went black.
~*~
“Ron? Can you hear me?”
Ron opened his eyes, the pain nearly causing him to pass out again. The concerned face of his best friend swam into view.
“Harry?” Ron croaked. “Why are you speaking with an echo?”
“You okay?” Harry asked.
“I- I think so.” Ron nodded, wincing as his head throbbed. “What happened?”
Harry frowned. “You didn’t listen to me.”
Ron shook his head foggily. “So you beat me up?”
Harry put his hands on his hips. “Actually, Malfoy did. Honestly, Ron, when I told you to ‘sort it out’, I didn’t mean ‘put Malfoy in a coma’, for goodness-”
Coma? “Shit, is he okay?”
Harry bit his lip, looking awkward. “He’s fine, Ron. He, uh, gave me a pretty good idea of what happened.”
Ron frowned. Was Harry blushing?
“Mr Malfoy, kindly remain in bed!”
Harry sighed and turned around. Ron craned his head to see Malfoy hauling himself to his feet, pulling bandages away from his badly bruised limbs as he did so.
“Oh for heavens sake, I’m perfectly-” Draco swayed and tilted alarmingly to the left, barely catching himself on the bedpost before he hit the floor.
“Malfoy. Get into bed and stay there until we sort you out. Ron. Come with me.” Harry growled, jerking his head in the direction of his office.
Ron swallowed, following with heavy steps.
Once the door to his office was closed, Harry cast wards and silencing charms. Then he rounded on his best mate.
“Well?”
Ron bit his lip. “Harry, I’m really sorry-”
“I’m not the one you should be apologising to!” Harry snapped. “Christ Ron, how many punches did you throw at him? You’re lucky he’s not brain damaged! What on Earth could he have said to provoke that sort of attack?”
Ron blushed furiously. Harry didn’t know he was gay, and Ron had no intention of giving any indication. Admitting that Malfoy had hit the nail right on the head was just too excruciating to even consider.
Harry sighed. “Ron, Malfoy lives by himself. His parents disowned him, and the hospital won’t let him stay.”
Ron frowned, not knowing where Harry was going with this.
Harry tutted impatiently. “Go and get him, Ron.”
“Are you taking him home with you?” Ron gaped.
“No.”
Ron breathed a sigh of relief.
“You are.”
“What?” Ron almost choked.
Harry nodded. “I’m giving the both of you two weeks off. Assignments will be sent home, and you can make sure Malfoy doesn’t over exert himself.”
“Harry, you can’t be serious! We’ll kill each other!”
“No, you won’t. I think this will be good for you.”
Ron doubted that, for many many reasons.
~*~
“Unbelievable! Potter actually expects me to live here for a week?” Draco cast disdainful eyes over Ron’s apartment.
Ron glared. “I didn’t exactly beg him, Malfoy.”
Draco’s continued to look around the room, anywhere besides straight at Ron. “Just drop me back home, Weasley.”
Ron shook his head. “Forget it. Harry’s already pissed off with me as it is.”
Draco looked like he might argue, but groaned loudly as a sudden burst of pain shot through his head. “Merlin, what did I do to deserve this?”
Ron flushed. “Lets see, you accused me of being gay, then tried to use that information to blackmail me.”
Draco gave Ron a very odd look for a split second, then went back to switching his gaze between the wall and the table top. The next words he spoke, he seemed to be choosing very carefully.
“Even if I was trying to use that information to blackmail you - and I’m not saying I was - why would it matter? Do you think its something to be ashamed of?”
“No, I don’t. And I’m not.” Ron flustered.
Draco’s expression was purely unreadable as he shrugged and said. “I see.”
An awkward silence lingered after those words. Ron struggled to come up with something to say, but his mind kept drawing him to the one tell-tale wrinkle between Malfoy’s eyes.
Quite suddenly, Draco pushed himself back from the table and strode past Ron with a not-so-gentle bump. “Right. I’m going upstairs for a while. Call me when dinner is ready. Assuming it’s palatable, of course.”
Ron groaned. It was going to be a long two weeks.
~*~
Seven days later.
“Mafloy!” Ron roared, thundering down his stairs clad in nothing but a towel. “You used all the fucking hot water again!”
“Simple heating charm too much for you, Weasley?” Draco sneered. “It’s hardly my fault that your primitive water tank is barely large enough for a simple wash.”
Ron glared. “There’s nothing wrong with my bathroom. Maybe if you didn’t spend all morning wanking in the shower, I’d be able to clean myself every now and then!”
The glow of Malfoy’s cheeks was a dead giveaway; Ron had struck a nerve. But rather than an internal crow of triumph, Ron suddenly found himself confronted with an image of Malfoy, naked, wet, and stroking himself furiously under the spray of steaming water.
Gah! Why? Why did that nasty image sneak into Ron’s minds eye?
Even worse; why was Ron’s traitorous body reacting to it?
And, why oh God why, was Ron only wearing a towel just now?
“Just… just try and hurry up in future.” Ron babbled, gripping his towel tightly around his waist before he turned and fled up the stairs.
~*~
Once he was behind the safety of his bedroom door, Ron cast the towel across the room and groaned as he took hold of his swollen, sensitive cock.
So wrong, so very very wrong,, Ron thought, hating himself as he imagined white-blonde hair and soulful grey eyes. In his mind, Malfoy had followed him up the stairs, confused as to why Ron had hurried away.
Weasley, what the hell is wrong with- oh.
Ron moaned and squeezed the head of his prick as he imagined Malfoy’s reaction. He would blush softly, let his eyes fall to Ron’s groin.
See something you like, Malfoy?
Arrogant as ever, Malfoy would swagger into the room, take hold of Ron’s cock like he owned the thing. And he would smirk, that infuriating smirk; Ron’s knees nearly gave out at the mere thought of it.
“Yes,” Ron hissed through his teeth, his hand speeding up. “Touch me.”
Malfoy would touch his cock, pulling and teasing, porcelain cheekbones glowing pink as he worked Ron’s erection. His lips would start to wander, over Ron’s neck, over his chest, pausing to suck at Ron’s very sensitive nipples.
“Oh God…” Ron threw his head back and leaned against the wall as his hand frantically tugged at his throbbing flesh. “Oh my fucking God!”
Over his stomach, trailing his pointed tongue down over Ron’s groin; and then Ron would push his cock forwards, stretching that arrogant smirk right off Malfoy’s face.
“Ahh!” Ron yelped as his cock started to pulse in orgasm. “Fuck, yes, Malfoy!”
Ron squeezed and milked his dick until the last pearly bead dripped onto the wooden floor. Only then did he slide down the wall, aghast at what he had just done.
~*~
The next few days were agony. Ron found himself snapping more and more at Malfoy, if only to provoke the heated arguments that Ron found himself using to fuel his late night wanking sessions.
Yet at the same time, Ron found himself enjoying Malfoy’s company more and more. Just the other day, the two had managed to share a conversation about Quidditch without insulting each other at all. Granted, the two held strong opinions and voiced them with passion, but without the vitriol, Malfoy’s argument was solid, self-assured, confident. Just like Malfoy himself. It was one of many reasons Ron was actually starting to find Draco not just tolerable, but likeable.
Which just made his developing obsession even worse.
“Morning, Weasel.”
Ron jumped and slopped tea over the table-top as Malfoy sauntered down the stairs, wearing nothing but his satin pyjama bottoms. Ron’s groin ached in longing at the sight of Malfoy’s pale chest, flawless but for a thin scar left from their sixth year.
As was becoming more and more frequent these days, Ron felt his blood heading south as that bare chest made its way closer to where Ron was sitting.
Filch in a bikini, Filch in a bikini, Filch in a bikini…
Draco stretched his arms over his head, the movement causing his bottoms to shift, revealing the tiniest glimpse of blonde pubic hair.
Ron’s brow started to sweat, and he hastily busied himself with his breakfast, hoping the frantic movements of his knife and fork would be enough to distract Malfoy from the bulge in his trousers.
“Good grief, Weasley, the aim of breakfast is not to see how many directions you can send it flying.” Malfoy wrinkled his nose as Ron chewed and slurped noisily on his syrup-drenched pancakes.
“Why don’t you do something useful and get the coffee?” Ron jabbed his fork at Malfoy, sending the slice of pancake on the end flying over the table…
…and landing on Malfoy’s chest.
Ron watched in horrified fascination as Malfoy peeled the sticky treat away from his milk-white skin and lifted it, ever so slowly, into his mouth.
“Mm. Not bad, Weasel. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting some?”
“What?” Ron balked, fighting away the urge to fling himself across the table and lick the smear of glistening syrup away.
Malfoy smirked (that infuriating smirk!) and raised his eyebrow. “Pancakes, Weasley. I don’t suppose I’ll be getting some pancakes?”
“No. I mean, yeah, sure. I mean, they’re in the kitchen, get them yourself.” Ron babbled, cheeks flaming.
He almost missed the glance Malfoy threw at his groin, before he sauntered out of the kitchen, smirk still in place.
He knows.
Ron burned with mortification as he recalled each and every time he’d gotten aroused in Malfoy’s presence. And the bastard had known all along.
Ron stood, ready to leave the house in disgust, when a smarmy voice drawled from the doorway, “Wow. You must really like pancakes.”
Ron glanced down at his waist, seething as he caught sight of his obviously tented pants. Then, he rounded on Malfoy.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Malfoy, but it stops right here. Your little game is over as of today.”
With that, Ron stepped into the fireplace and clenched his eyes against the whirl of green flames and grey eyes.
~*~
“This had better be important.” Harry warned as he took a seat at the bar next to his best friend. “I told you, I don’t want you leaving Malfoy for too long in his condition.”
Ron snorted. “The only condition Malfoy is suffering from is an acute case of being an absolute bastard.”
Harry frowned. “You said a few days ago that things were going smoothly. What happened?”
Tell him, Ron clenched his teeth and nervously ran his fingers through the condensation on his glass. Tell him now.
“Harry - Christ, this is awkward - the thing is, Malfoy knows something about me. And he’s been trying to use it to blackmail me. Or use it to mess with me. Or something. I don’t really know anymore, but the point is I’m… I’m gay.” Ron took a shuddering breath at glanced at Harry.
As expected, Harry was shaking his head in disappointment.
“Oh God, Ron…”
“I know.” Ron whispered, throat aching.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m gay.”
Harry snorted. “Well, yes, obviously, we all knew that. I meant, are you seriously telling me that you still haven’t caught on to Malfoy’s signals? Christ, I thought if I put you under the same roof as him, you might eventually catch on, but he’s right. You really are an idiot.”
“Wait, what?” Ron’s mind struggled to absorb everything Harry was saying. “You knew? Everyone knows? How is it that you know without me telling anyone?”
Harry gave him a look.
“Hermione.” They said in unison.
“And Malfoy? What signals are you talking about? The only signal he’s ever given me involves his middle finger. Besides, he’s not even gay.” Ron insisted.
Harry laughed. “Ron, he uses more hair product than Hermione, Fleur and Ginny put together.”
A fair point, Ron conceded.
There was only one more flaw in Harry’s logic to be resolved. “Why would someone like Malfoy want someone like me?”
Harry smiled and clapped Ron on the back. “Why don’t you go and find out?”
~*~
Oh God, this is going to be so awkward.
“Mal- um, Draco? Are you still here?”
Nothing.
He’s already gone. Ron thought gloomily, ascending the stairs, heading vaguely to the bathroom to relieve himself of the drinks he’d had with Harry earlier.
Ron opened the door, inhaling sharply as he was suddenly faced with an image that he’d been using as wank-fodder for nearly two weeks.
Draco Malfoy. Naked, foaming, and wet under a steamy spray of water, his cock in one hand, and the other… oh God, the other hand was hidden behind his back.
Ron might be slow on the uptake, but he had no doubts as to what that hand was doing back there.
Perhaps it was the shock of stumbling across his latest and most stimulating fantasy, or perhaps it was the alcohol fuzzing his brain. But of all things to say, the best Ron could come up with was this.
“I thought I told you to start leaving hot water for me.”
Draco gaped. And then, miraculously, he laughed. Nervously, but a laugh still.
“I have been giving the matter a great deal of thought.” Draco said, calming down and nodding seriously. “I’ve decided the best way to conserve the pitiful amount of water in your prehistoric bathroom… would be to share it.”
Emboldened by Draco’s words, Ron strode across the bathroom and stepped, fully clothed into the shower.
“A Malfoy, sharing.” He tutted. “What is this world coming to?”
“Shut up, Weasley.” Draco groaned, rubbing his wet, naked body against Ron’s saturated garments.
Ron seized a handful of Draco’s hair and pulled. “Gladly, Malfoy.” He muttered, and pulled Draco in for a fierce kiss. He sucked and bit until Draco was breathless with want, before spinning the blonde around and pushing him hard against the shower wall.
Panting heavily, Draco stuck his arse out in a blatant demand for Ron’s attention, then yelped as Ron delivered a hearty smack.
“Oh ye-es…” Draco moaned as Ron soothed the sting with his hands, coated in what felt like Draco’s honey-flavoured shower milk. Ron’s slick hand lingered for a while over the red imprint, before drifting in between Draco’s cheeks.
“Oh God…” Ron bit Draco’s milk-white neck as his fingers were swallowed by Draco’s hole, as demanding and as greedy as Draco himself. He played with Draco’s arse, more to satisfy his own curiosity than for stretching Draco, as the wanton creature was certainly stretched enough as it was.
“Now, Ron.” Draco moaned, rocking back onto Ron’s hand. “Please, I can’t wait anymore. Fuck me now.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed breathlessly, unbuttoning his pants and tugging his cock from his soaked boxers with some difficulty. He lined himself up with Draco’s hole and pushed, gasping at the tight heat that effortlessly welcomed his cock.
“This feels incredible.” Ron moaned sincerely, pulling out and rocking back in. Draco keened in response, his head thrown back in sheer bliss.
“Stroke my cock.” Draco ordered. “Make me come while you fuck me.”
“Bossing someone else into doing all the work, as usual.” Ron smirked, biting Draco’s shoulder playfully.
“I’d hardly call the privilege of fucking me work, Weas- Oh!” Draco’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Ron took hold of his cock and squeezed, harder than anyone else ever had.
Weasley never had been afraid to be rough with Draco; it was one of many reasons Draco liked him.
Draco braced himself against the shower wall and eagerly welcomed the brutal strokes of Ron’s cock. The spray of hot water only added to the sensory stimulation, as did the inexplicably arousing feel of Ron’s wet clothes against his bare skin. The thought that Ron had been too impatient to do this to even strip his clothes off had Draco’s arousal climbing at an embarrassing speed.
“Ron! Ron, I’m going to come!” Draco warned, his hips canting as Ron gripped tighter and sped up the strokes of his large, calloused hand.
“That’s it, Malfoy, come with me inside you.” Ron groaned, pounding his hips furiously as his own orgasm seemed not far off.
“Oh god! Oh god!” Draco screamed, arching back and moaning wordlessly as his cock pulsed with pleasure and shot hot come all over the shower wall.
The contractions of Draco’s orgasm pulled Ron’s from him, and his fingers left bruises on Draco’s hips as he furiously rode out his own climax.
Hours later, after the pair had somehow managed to stumble to Ron’s bedroom for a second round, Ron lay awake watching the other man sleep, turning a somewhat unsettling thought over in his mind.
Draco Malfoy would always get under his skin, Ron decided. They would always inflame each other, and the sparks that had existed from the first day they’d met would never disappear.
These were the reasons any other person might tell Ron Weasley that this, whatever it was, would not work.
But Ron had a feeling they were also the reasons that it just might.
Finis