Chapter Text
The logic of his presence on Weasley’s doorstep on Saturday afternoon escaped Draco entirely. His feet had carried him there, but why was a fact he struggled to make sense of.
No. Draco knew why. Why he caved was the question he couldn’t answer.
Yes, he was exhausted. Yes, his head was pounding from both the overconsumption of alcohol and lack of sleep. But how was his resolve so weak? Draco had truly reached desperate levels to seek out Weasley rather than brew or acquire Dreamless Sleep.
After knocking, Draco waited less than a minute for Weasley to answer the door before abandoning the idea.
It was so sodding stupid. What was he thinking? His mother would be ashamed. Showing up unannounced. The impropriety. To what, ask him to be Draco’s napping partner? Gods, he was such a git.
Making his way down the stairwell, the turn of a lock and creaking hinges stilled his forward progress.
“Malfoy?”
Shit.
One hand on the railing, Draco glanced over his shoulder.
Oh, fuck him for being freshly showered and bright-eyed at eleven after a night of drinking. Even if he was in dark gray lounge trousers and a white T-shirt. Though his slightly damp hair was askew, it had more to do with the fact that he’d just showered and hadn’t fixed it yet as opposed to that rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed-to-answer-the-door look.
“Hey.” Draco swallowed.
Almost like he could decipher the intention of Draco’s unexpected arrival, Weasley stepped aside with a knowing smirk, opening his door wider. “Come on in.”
Fuck it.
Entering his flat was a first. There’d never been a reason to, nor a reason for Weasley to go to Draco’s. Surprisingly, he wasn’t a slob. Draco half-expected to find discarded jerseys and unwashed dishes scattered about. Possibly crumbs on the cushions and shoes kicked off in random places. It wasn’t spotless by any means, but it was, dare Draco say, cozy. Eclectic, even.
“Would you like a cuppa or should we skip to the part where you ask to take a nap with me?”
Choked on a breath, Draco said, “Salazar. At least buy a man lunch first.”
Weasley snorted as he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to deny it? There’s no other reason for you to be here even if you hadn’t been able to catch any sleep last night.”
Draco couldn’t deny it, but he didn’t want to admit it either. It was something in Weasley’s touch, the feel of safety maybe. Why he correlated him with being safe was another question he didn’t have the answer for. But Draco craved his touch. His larger frame. Draco wasn’t small, but he was lean. And Weasley’s broad figure practically begged for a cuddle.
“Fine. Yes, okay?” Draco blew out all the air from his lungs. “I just need to know if it was a fluke or not. I don’t sleep well most nights anyway, but this week has been ultra brutal. That nap was the last time I’ve gotten any real sleep.”
Thick brow arched, Weasley eyed him. “So, you want me to be a test subject.”
“If that’s how you need to look at it, sure.” Draco lifted a shoulder. “You said so yourself. It was a really good nap.”
“I believe I said it was a pretty quality nap.”
“How is that any different?”
“Just clarifying.” His arms raised as if in surrender, biting back a smug smile.
Draco turned to leave. “Forget it.”
“Wait. Wait.” Weasley chuckled, extending a hand as if to stop him. Draco almost kept trying to go just to see what he would do.
“You’re so easy to rile up.” His lips pressed together, cutting off his laughter. “But yeah. I won’t deny it was one of the most restful naps I’ve ever had. So, sure.”
Validation. Thank Merlin.
He nearly blurted for Weasley not to do him any favors, but that was exactly what this was. And Draco couldn’t risk him backing out now.
Scratching his beard, Weasley said, “Just a nap.”
“Obviously, Weasle.” Draco scowled, unable to repress the curl of his lip. He was too tired for politeness. “I’m not looking for you to fuck me. My body is exhausted. I just need an hour of sleep, so I can get on with my day.”
One of his shoulders lifted in nonchalance, though a flush crept above his beard. “Yeah. All right. I could use a nap. Couldn’t sleep much last night either.”
Draco wanted to press for more—did he have nightmares too—but faced the living room instead. “How do you want to do this?” He gestured to the sofa pressed against the wall opposite the fireplace.
“You mean to tell me you came all the way over here, and you didn’t think about what position we’d wind up in to have a nap?” His critical stare faltered, a hint of mischief flickering across.
It was Draco’s turn for his cheeks to heat. “I just want to sleep, Weasley. I didn’t fantasize about what position would be most comfortable. Just that I needed y—”
He cut himself off, and Weasley’s brow arched.
Sod it.
“Will you just sit down, and maybe we can arrange ourselves in the position we slept in before?”
The ginger git sauntered over and relaxed back, legs spread, and extended his arm along the back of the sofa. How could one person exude such unruffled confidence just by being?
Right. It was his turn.
Settling next to him, Draco toed off his boots and edged closer until their knees were touching.
“And my arm was like this.” Weasley lowered his arm around Draco’s shoulder, his hand finding a light resting place on his upper bicep.
They were fucking cuddling, like two awkward teenage virgins. Draco closed his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to ease more into his new napping buddy.
“Relax, Malfoy.” Weasley’s voice came out low and rumbly. “You won’t catch a wink if you’re ramrod straight.”
Of all the things he could have said, did it have to be those two words? I’ll show you where you can ram your rod. Salazar’s saggy arse. How was Draco supposed to relax now?
“It helped to have Potter’s telly on,” he muttered.
Weasley sighed. “Well, I hate to break it to you, mate, but I don’t have one.”
“Your powers of deduction are unmatched.”
“Thank you.” A hint of laughter colored his tone. “Okay. Maybe if we try a different position that will help. We could lay down.”
Lay down? LAY DOWN? What in Circe’s name made Weasley think that was a better option?
With a subtle shift, he nudged Draco to slide forward. “C’mon.” And then he reclined onto his side and patted the strip of space in front of him with a goading smirk.
What was Draco supposed to do with that? Face him? Merlin, no. And there wasn’t enough room to lay on his back. His only choice was to lay on his side and let Weasley spoon him.
“I don’t bite, Malfoy. This is purely platonic. You said so yourself. We’re just two guy friends who need a rest.”
Right. Friends. Because Weasley was straight, and wasn’t getting special feelings below the belt at the thought of having his hips aligned with Draco’s arse.
All right. Yes. Okay. Draco could do this. Sleep was crucial, and this was the best method available to him.
Swinging his legs onto the sofa, Draco laid down, and rested his head on Weasley’s muscular bicep because there was no other place. With a deep breath, Draco let his body sag into the cushions and against the welcoming chest. Before Weasley could ask if he was comfortable enough, Draco was out.
When Draco stirred, he hummed in satisfaction. His body didn’t feel like it had been struck by a troll’s club like it did most days. He was so bloody comfy. Blinking open his eyes, they adjusted to the dim light, but he wasn’t in his bedroom.
He took in the maroon and copper designed rug and well-worn coffee table. The bookshelf filled with quidditch memorabilia and the arched floor lamp in the corner. For the love of magic. He was at Weasley’s. On his sofa. And Draco was wrapped in his arms.
One arm still remained a pillow, cradling Draco’s head and neck, while the other looped around his torso. It was not a loose hold. Weasley’s hand curled around the side of his waist resting against the cushions, his arm cinched like he would never let go.
And then Draco felt a subtle pressure against his arse before it receded. They weren’t just spooning. They were spooning.
How long had they been out? It was still light enough out to not be late in the evening, but possibly early evening? Draco searched for a clock on the wall. Quarter to five? They’d slept for five hours?
The pressure against his arse came again, more firm, before retreating. Their legs were aligned all the way from hip to feet, bent just a fraction. And Weasley’s hips were rolling against Draco’s arse.
Shit fucking damnit. Draco was hard. So hard. He must’ve already been when he woke because he was throbbing.
And sweet fucking mercy. So was Weasley.
His stiff length nestled between Draco’s arse cheeks, rocking with a more frequent rhythm. If he moved now, Weasley would wake, and then it’d be more awkward than before. He’d realize what he’d been doing, and then Draco would have to assuage his worries. Weasley was probably dreaming of a witch. And there was Draco’s arse. Everyone had an arse. He would just ignore it until Weasley woke up. Then Draco would pretend he was barely waking as well. It was fine.
This was fine.
This was not fine. His thrusts grew more unyielding, and Draco’s cock twitched. Down, boy. What his shaft hoped for wasn’t going to happen, and he needed to get it through its swollen head.
Maybe if he gave it a gentle tug to alleviate some pressure. That could help. Draco slipped his hand beneath his joggers, sliding past the elastic band of his boxer briefs.
Once wasn’t enough. He tugged again and again, until he couldn’t stop himself from setting a steady pace. He could come quietly enough, and then Scourgify himself, and Weasley never had to be the wiser. Yeah, that could work.
He couldn’t resist a gentle rock of his hips, not too much, just enough. Imperceptible, really. Draco’s grip tightened, his breathing accelerating. He clenched his jaw and bit his tongue to keep from making a peep. The layers of forbidden heightened his arousal. Wanking while Weasley was asleep, while Weasley was unknowingly dry-humping him. Weasley, who was straight, nothing but a napping partner. Barely even a friend.
The hand on his waist tightened, the arm locking in firm, and Draco stilled, noticing the pressure against his backside had ceased.
Shit.
Draco didn’t even breathe. He was marble, a statue. Maybe Weasley wouldn’t realize, couldn’t see Draco’s hand shoved down his pants. Both of their hips had been undulating, Weasley’s more than Draco’s. For sure. Right?
Fuck. This was worse. This was so much worse than Weasley waking to realize he’d been humping a sleeping Draco.
Weasley hadn’t yet moved. His hard length still nestled against Draco’s arse. Draco had to breathe eventually, but maybe passing out was the right move anyway. If Weasley wasn’t holding him he’d Apparate.
The first to move, Weasley’s hand uncurled around Draco’s waist, and Draco was prepared to surge to his feet when the world turned on its head. Weasley slid his fingers across his hip and over Draco’s hand gripping his cock. His hand molded around Draco’s, the thick cotton material of his joggers the only barrier between them.
Clamping his grip, without a word or breath, Weasley guided his hand to keep moving. Draco reached his limit; an involuntary shuddering groan broke free.
Grunting in return against the bare skin of Draco’s neck, Weasley resumed his thrusting, adding a insistent pressure. The kind of pressure that left zero room for doubt that Ronald Weasley was dry-humping Draco. And Merlin almighty, it was so hot.
“Fuck fuck fuck. Stop, stop. I don’t wanna come in my pants.”
Weasley didn’t say a word, just shoved down the front of Draco’s joggers before his hand retreated and worked between their bodies. It wasn’t until Draco felt the hot length of Weasley against his bare arse that he realized he had shoved down his trousers as well.
With one hard cant of his hips, Weasley murmured against the nape of Draco’s neck, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Draco didn’t either. Of course he had enough experience with men to prove his knowledge was well-earned, but this was Weasley. What the hell were they doing? It wasn’t as if he’d been pining after Ron Weasley for all these years. He’d just needed some sleep. And Weasley was fit. Two things could be true.
And now he wanted to be shagged by him. So what? Maybe this would solve his sleeping problem. Draco just needed a good orgasm to get some much needed rest.
“It doesn’t fucking matter.” Draco groaned, rocking back, the rigid, silky length grinding against his rim in a delicious cadence.
Weasley’s hand smoothed over his hip and swatted Draco’s hand out of the way before curling his large, calloused fingers around Draco’s cock.
“Oh, gods.” Draco gasped, and Weasley squeezed the tip before gliding back down. “Merlin fuck, yes.”
Weasley stroked with practiced ease. The perfect amount of grip. The perfect speed. The perfect subtle rotation. A man who knew his way around a cock—his own.
His head tossed back, skull meeting the firmness of Weasley’s defined chest. So lost in the sensation of the best handjob he’d ever received, it wasn’t until Weasley exhaled a pained moan that Draco was brought back to reality. His cock was enveloped in his former nemesis’s hand.
“We can stop.” Gods, he didn’t want to, but wanted Weasley to regret this even less. “I know you don’t actually like blokes.” Weasley’s strokes continued, speeding up, and Draco whimpered. “Shi— We can forget this ever happened. Pass it off as a wet dream.”
Weasley’s hips somehow thrusted harder in answer. “Fuck that.”
Thank Salazar. Draco reached back in search of Weasley’s cock, curling around the stiff flesh once finding the velvety skin. And good fucking gods he was thick.
They tugged on each other, almost in competition. When one grew tighter the other followed. When one sped up, the other increased as well. But the angle was all off, and Draco couldn’t get a good enough grip, their arms bumping into each other with his stroke.
“Hold on.” Draco rotated around and licked his lips, meeting Weasley’s eyes for the first time. Stares clinging, he braved a latent desire. “I want to suck your cock.”
Weasley’s gaze flared wide, inhaling deeply through his nose before he dipped his chin in a curt nod.
Draco drew onto his knees, allowing Weasley to shift onto his back. Even though he’d felt how big he was, the sheer size of him hit Draco in a way that physical touch had not prepared him for. He salivated, needed that thickness in him—in his mouth, in his arse, anywhere, everywhere—more than he needed his magic.
Okay. That was a stretch, but it was pretty damn close.
With a rough yank, he lowered the elastic of Weasley’s lounge bottoms until they rested just below his arse. His thick shaft swayed, an intoxicating sight.
Leaning down, Draco’s eyes flicked up, one final look for consent in case Weasley changed his mind. But when their stares connected, there was no mistaking the hunger in his sky-blue eyes. His mouth hung open a fraction as he followed Draco’s every move.
Lowering his stare, Draco wrapped his mouth around the red, swollen head of Weasley’s weeping cock. His tongue massaged, then sucked. Massaged, then sucked. A delicious groan escaped the man’s lips, encouraging Draco to swallow down more of him.
“You’re so—” Gasp. “—good at that. Shit.”
Draco grinned, lapping along the underside, reveling in the sounds coming from above him. Only to increase his feral need as Weasley sunk his fingers into his hair. Taking the grip as encouragement, he bobbed, keeping a good suction around the length, palm wreathing what he wasn’t sucking.
“That’s it. Yes.” A long, low moan passed his lips. “Brilliant.”
“Like that it’s me sucking your cock, Weasley?” Draco teased, unable to help himself, though lust drenched his words.
Jaw clenched, Weasley’s nostrils flared. With indignation or arousal? His hand still gripping the roots of Draco’s hair, he encouraged him back down. “Depends on if you can finish me off.”
“Beg me and maybe I will.”
“That what you need, Malfoy? For me to beg for you?”
Draco licked a strip up his hot length. “Yes.”
“For me to tell you that you suck cock better than any witch?”
He licked another strip, and his shaft twitched. “Fuck, yes.”
“Please.” His breathing was ragged. “Please make me come. And I’ll shout it to the whole of wizarding London.”
Draco delighted in the challenge, recapturing his cock with new fervor. A raspy whine echoed throughout the room as Weasley’s hips thrust up, and Draco bucked against the sofa. He couldn’t help preening. His fist encircling the base of Weasley’s cock twisted and stroked in rhythm with his mouth.
“Yes. Bloody hell.” Weasley’s clutch on his head pushed him down, forcing him to take the length all the way down his throat. Draco gagged.
“Shit.” He let go of Draco’s hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right.” Taking a breath, Draco used the back of his hand to swipe the saliva of his chin. “I wanted you to. Fuck my face, Weasley.”
“Sweet fucking Godric. Yeah, okay. I want to see you take it all the way down.”
His cock glistened with Draco’s saliva, but pooling more in his mouth, Draco let his spit drip onto the slit. Flicking up his gaze, their eyes met. Weasley elevated on his elbows, absorbing the whole affair with unwavering attention, jaw hanging loosely.
Lowering one foot to the floor, he gave Draco more room as he dipped back down. Relaxing his throat, he sank over Weasley’s cock until his nose grazed his pelvis. Maybe the foot was more for leverage because he did not hold back. Hand clasped around Draco’s head, Weasley was relentless in his thrusts. And Draco welcomed every gag, every tear leaked, every ache in his jaw, every meet of his nose to pelvis.
“You take me so well, Malfoy.” He panted without slowing his momentum. “So bloody perfect.”
When Draco’s throat constricted on the last thrust, Weasley whimpered.
“Wait, wait. Godric.” He loosened his hold, allowing Draco to come up for air.
Blinking through glassy eyes, his chest heaved as he waited for Weasley to finally wake up and end this. Maybe he’d come to the realization he was about to come down Draco’s—of all people’s—throat.
“I want to fuck you.”
Draco nearly blacked out. That was the last thing he expected him to say. “This doesn’t have to be quid pro quo. It’s all right.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “I like being the only bloke to ever get you off.”
“Just shut up, and let me fuck your arse.” Weasley pushed onto his hands as his teeth dragged against his lower lip. So puffy and red, he must have been biting it hard while Draco sucked him. “It’s not a reciprocating thing. I just like the idea of owning your arse.”
Eyebrow lifted, Draco maneuvered back, his sensitive cock brushing against the sofa cushion. “For a wizard so adamant that he only likes witches, I’m not sure you should brag about owning anything of mine.”
Weasley’s jaw ticked, eyes roving between Draco’s. “Fine. How about this?” He sat up fully, his length slapping his taunt stomach with a soft, slick smack. “I know if I don’t fuck you, I might lose my mind.”
If this was a fever dream, Draco never wanted to wake. Weasley may have been seeking control, but Draco didn’t want to give him that kind of power. He contemplated the hollow gesture of saying no, just to keep the upper hand, but that would be an act of self-sabotage.
Draco rotated around on his knees, back arched as Weasley climbed in behind him. Taking the elastic of his pants and joggers, Draco slid them over his backside.
A sharp intake of air echoed behind him as a large hand found purchase of his hip. “Tell me what to do.”
Lowering to his elbows, Draco canted his head over his shoulder, but couldn’t meet Weasley’s eyes. “You need to…you need to prep me first.”
His hands clutched both arsecheeks, spreading Draco and then a pool of warm wet hit his ring of muscle. Fuck. Weasley just spit on his arsehole.
Hesitant at first, his fingertip grazed his rim before working in a tight circle. Gaining more confidence, Weasley pressed down, sinking in a fraction, and Draco hissed. He pressed harder, slipping further in, and Draco’s fingers dug into the sofa. The first penetration was always a sweet, painful relief. The burn, the gratification, the sense of connection. All the way in, the meat of Weasley’s fist met Draco’s skin.
“Two.” He groaned with the languid pumping of Weasley’s finger. “You can do two now.”
A thicker pressure sank into him, and Draco thrust back. “So good,” he whispered.
“Yeah?” Weasley was out of breath, and they hadn’t even gotten started.
“More.”
Removing his fingers, a satiny blunt head pressed against his rim, and Draco took a deep breath. Weasley’s cock was impressive, and it had been awhile since Draco had taken anyone that large, maybe ever.
He breathed through the blissful sting as Weasley pushed in and out, then back in.
A strained moan reverberated from Weasley. “Fuck, Draco. You’re tight.” On a third thrust he sank all the way in. “So much tighter—shit—than a cunt.” Sheer ecstasy bled through his guttural murmurs. “You feel bloody amazing.”
Draco bit back a whimper. He was not going to fucking whimper for Weasley.
With languid, shallow thrusts, Weasley eased into an effortless groove, fingertips digging into Draco’s hips in a viselike hold, threatening to bruise.
“Deeper. Fuck—” Don’t whimper. “Please.” Merlin. Begging wasn’t much better.
One hard and fast thrust, Draco fell forward, his elbows catching himself with a pathetic cry.
“You like that? My cock making you weak?”
If not for the armrest of the couch, Draco would be on the floor. “Shut up.”
“That’s not what you want though, is it?” Weasley took hold of the back of Draco’s neck, pressing the side of his face into the cushion as he fucked him harder.
“Do you always— Fuck. Yes.” His own length brushed against the soft fabric of the sofa, the dual sensation surging him closer to release. “Do you always talk this much when you shag other witches?”
“Do you really want me talking about other witches while I’m buried deep in your arse?”
No. No, he didn’t. Unless it was to say how much more he liked fucking Draco than any other witch. But that was absurd, and he was not about to make any such confession.
“Fuck you.”
“Tell me you love my cock.” He pounded into him, harder. “Tell me, Draco.”
He bit back another whimper upon his name falling from Weasley’s mouth with such ease, such intimacy.
“You’re the one fucking me.” He bit the words out through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you tell me how much you like your cock in my arse?”
The angle changed as a warm weight settled against his back. Weasley bent over Draco in a full-body blanket. He weaved the fingers of one hand between Draco’s, clutching tight.
“I could fuck this arse all night.” His deep voice thrummed against the shell of Draco’s ear.
“Gods, Weasley.”
It was a struggle to catch his breath. This feeling—of being so fiercely taken, so intertwined, so fucking filled—was entirely new to him. He’d had a good shag here and there, but nothing like this. Like fight-fucking, this collision of bodies that was almost violent but felt incredible.
On a particularly hard thrust, Weasley made sweet, sweet contact with the perfect mark inside Draco, and he cried out, “Ron. Oh, Salazar.”
“Right there?” He pummeled the spot with flawless precision. “That it? This where you need me?”
“Yes!” Draco sobbed. “Godsdamnit there! Don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
“Not a chance.” Weasley was ruthless, skin slapping, breaths heaving. Draco was at his mercy, a humiliation he despised as much as the intimacy of it thrilled him.
“I’m gonna…come.” Weasley’s thrusts grew faster, rougher. “Fuck.”
“Me—” Draco whined, “—too.”
Weasley’s thighs trembled against the back of Draco’s. He was about to come inside of him. Draco was never going to be able to look at him the same way again. Every time he’d be brought back to this moment. This unforgettable shag on Weasley’s shitty beige couch.
Weasley pressed his lips between Draco’s shoulder blades, the bristles of his beard rubbing against his skin. Such a tender gesture during such a ferocious act. Weasley’s moan was more of a roar as he came, the hot spurts filling Draco. So much cum he felt it dripping from the rim of his arse. And Draco lost it, coming all over the sofa cushions. Weasley’s mouth drifted to his neck, his teeth sinking in with a nip and lick, soothing with gentle brushes of his lips. Then Weasley took Draco’s chin in his hand, turning his head and kissed him for the first time as the last shot of cum spilled beneath Draco.
His tongue sought entrance, and Draco opened with a gasp turned groan catching in his throat. The hand on his chin relaxed and curved around, cradling his jaw. With the hungry probe of Weasley’s tongue, his whole body melted into the sofa, Weasley’s cock softening inside of him.
Angling his head, Draco deepened the kiss in a sweet tangle of caresses. He traced the inside of Weasley’s mouth in unhurried exploration, savoring the escapism of their lips. He wasn’t ready for reality to come crashing down, dreaded allowing the truth to shatter the moment.
When Weasley broke the kiss with a ragged exhale, Draco murmured, “I thought you said just a nap.”
He snorted. “That was before I woke up to you wanking and grinding your arse on my cock.”
Eyes closed to remain in the bubble, a subtle smile tugged at the corner of Draco’s mouth. “I only started wanking because you woke me with your humping my arse.”
“Hey.” Weasley eased off of Draco. “An arse is an arse.”
How was Draco supposed to take that? That it had nothing to do with him? Just being a hole to fill?
Salazar. Quit whinging. He napped, he fucked, he came. Now it was time for him to leave.
“Right.” Draco sat up, tucking himself away, and tugged up his joggers over his arse. Bending over, Draco reached for his boots.
“Oi. Where you going?”
Draco placed them at his feet, picking one up. “It was a pretty quality nap and decent shag Weasley, but I think it’s time for me to go.”
“Hold on a minute.” Weasley scooted close to him and swatted the boot from Draco’s hand. “Did I do something wrong?”
Glancing at the discarded boot, Draco exhaled a short gasp. “Those are dragonhide and probably cost more than your rent, you lout.”
“Can you be less of a tosser please, or are you only pleasant when there’s a cock in your mouth?”
“I prefer them in my arse, actually.” Draco shot to his feet to retrieve his boot.
“Was it my comment about arses?”
This was growing more and more humiliating. Not only did he just shag a man he barely tolerated most days, but here he was stomping about and trying to hide his mortification for actually thinking something more might come out of this.
“I was simply reminded how adamant you are that you do not fancy blokes, and I’d like to leave with my dignity intact before you go spare.”
“Godric, Draco.” His gaze flickered up as head dropped back. “I’m not ashamed to fancy a bloke, if that’s what you think. I just didn’t know I did. I never have before. And then I woke with you in my arms, and it messed with my head.”
Draco was listening, he was, but he was stuck on the fact that Weasley’d used his first name. They didn’t do that. Sure, they just did in the heat of the moment, but in conversation? He shivered. Why did he like it so much?
“I mean,” Weasley cleared his throat and stood, “I can tell when a wizard is fit, but I’ve never fantasized about having a cock in my arse. Though, I very much enjoy having my cock in your arse.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Draco tried not to laugh, but failed.
“Look.” Weasley…er, Ron—yeah, Draco caught the appeal—Ron swiped his hand down his beard. “I’m always going to say the wrong thing. It’s sort of my thing. But uh,” his hand moved to the nape of his neck, rubbing, “this is new for me. And I don’t want to screw it up before it even has a chance to lift off the ground.”
It? What it was he referring to? “What are you trying to say?”
Ron took a step closer to Draco. “I’m saying I fancy you, Malfoy.”
“Draco.” He matched his step, closing the gap between them. “I liked it better when you called me Draco.”
“Yeah?” A warm smile began in his blue eyes before reaching his lips.
“Yeah.”
Ron looped his arm around Draco’s neck, cupping the back of his head, and yanked him against his mouth.
After the briefest of brushes, Ron drew back. “I have one condition.” Draco lifted a brow, waiting. “Can you manage to be less of a sodding prick when I’m not inside of you.”
“Difficult to say. Maybe we should test it while I’m buried in your arse.”
“Fuck.” A flush rose above his reddish beard. “All right.”
Draco’s shaft twitched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
With a playful shove, Ron fell to his back. Crawling on top, Draco slotted his leg between Ron’s.
“First time?” he teased.
Ron bucked his hips. “You know it is, ya git.”
“Then this calls for quite a bit of prep.” Draco lips spread in a sly grin. “How do you feel about my tongue in your arse, Weasley?”
“Bloody hell.” Head tossed back, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “It’s Ron.”
Draco’s stomach was a stampede of animals as he leaned in, cupping the side of his face and sliding the other hand around Ron’s backside. “This arse is mine, Ron.”
***
Stirring awake, Draco was less disoriented. He hummed in contentment as he nuzzled into the hollow of Ron’s bare shoulder. After introducing him to the euphoria of anal, Ron tossed a blanket over them and they promptly fell back asleep.
The arm banded over Draco’s back cinched tighter, ensuring he couldn’t move. A deep, resonant sigh rumbled through Ron’s chest as he rested his mouth gently to Draco’s forehead. Resolute in keeping his eyes closed, Draco luxuriated in the anchor of Ron's arms. The outside world could wait. And then he felt Ron’s half-hard cock twitch against his thigh.
“Best fucking nap ever.” Ron’s hips canted against Draco’s.
“I think a little more than a nap happened here,” an impish voice that was neither Draco or Ron said.
“Shit!” Draco hissed, and they jolted to sitting, scrambling for the blanket to keep their lower halves covered.
Theo and Granger stood side-by-side with matching, knowing smirks. The twats.
“How did you get into my flat?” Ron asked.
“Should’ve closed your floo if you were looking for privacy, mate.” Theo couldn’t disguise his glee even if he were Polyjuiced as Snape.
“We—” Flicking his gaze to Draco, as if seeking guidance, Ron floundered. “We…We shagged, all right?”
Well, that didn’t take much coaxing.
“You don’t say,” Granger said as Theo snorted, “It’s about bloody fucking time.”
Draco jerked back with palpable disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
A distinct air of smugness clung to Theo. “We’ve been watching you two eye-fuck each other for months.”
Scoffing, Draco retorted, “Have not!”
“We haven’t?” Ron asked.
Draco’s head whipped to him. “You have?”
He shrugged, smooth and casual. “Well, I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing until a few days ago.”
A mental wallop left Draco stunned, like he’d been struck by a Confundus.
“So, I guess I should tell Padma that tonight is cancelled.” Granger’s smirk stretched wider.
“Fuck.” Ron dragged his hand down his face. “Padma.”
Draco stiffened. That was his cue. Two fantastic shags didn’t mean Ron owed him anything. Where were his trousers?
As if sensing Draco’s need to flee, Ron’s hand latched onto his bare thigh before he could stand. “Don’t fucking move,” he murmured beneath his breath.
“If you have plans with Patil, it’s rude to cancel.” Draco suppressed his sneer, but it was a challenge. “And I’m not a cad, Weasley.”
“Already back to Weasley, huh?” The grip on his thigh tightened, keeping him from attempting to search for his joggers. “We’re not finished here.”
Why did his commanding tone send a jolt to his groin?”
“No need for squabbling.” Granger swatted the air, slipping her hand into Theo’s. “I already informed Padma you were indisposed.”
“You could have led with that, Hermione,” Ron said.
Her eyes lit with waggish delight. “And miss that spike of jealousy on Malfoy’s face? Unthinkable.”
Draco’s stare narrowed. “I see Nott’s influence on you is growing stronger.”
Theo kissed the top of her wild tangle of curls. “It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? Well. I think we shall see ourselves out and leave you two to continue in this delectable debauchery.”
As soon as the floo flame dissipated with their exit, Ron slid from the sofa to his knees before Draco. “Since you don’t seem to be getting it through your stubborn skull, even after I let you stick your tongue in my arse, let me put this in simpler terms.”
“What are you doing?”
Ron threw the blanket off Draco and curled his hand around his hardening cock. “I’m ready to learn more.” His tongue flicked the slit leaking precum. “Tell me what you like, Draco.”
“Fuuuuck.” Nostrils flaring as he took in the willing ginger on his knees, Draco said, “Stick your tongue out.” When Ron complied, Draco rubbed his head against the flat of his tongue. “So good for me. Put me in your mouth.”
Without hesitation, he lowered around his length, enveloping Draco in the wet heat and sucked.
“Oh, sweet Salazar.” He raked his fingers through Ron’s hair, gently rolling his hips in time with the bobbing, but not so much that he gagged Ron. With practiced control, he led Ron with the clutch of his hair.
He didn’t seem to mind Draco’s guidance, slurping and moaning around Draco’s cock. What a pretty picture it was seeing Ron Weasley on his knees for him, wanting to pleasure him.
When Ron drew back, Draco eased his grip on his hair. “I want to try deepthroating you.”
“Easy there, Gryffindor.” Thumb stroking his bristled jaw, he chuckled. “I don’t want to scare you off. This is perfect.”
“But I could make it better. I can take it.”
Merlin. Jaw clenched to ground his reckless desire to fuck his face, Draco said, “Put me in your mouth and relax your throat as you suck me down.”
He did as Draco instructed. Ron could take orders; that was good to know.
Draco resisted the urge to thrust, letting Ron take him all the way down. “So good. So—ah—fucking good.”
Even as he gagged, he didn’t release Draco from his throat. Breath fanned from his nose against Draco’s pelvis as Ron swallowed. The tightness spurred on an impulsive thrust from Draco, and Ron never broke his rhythm.
Draco tugged on the roots of his hair, but Ron didn’t let up. “I’m gonna come so fucking hard, I don’t want to choke you.”
His only response was to suck harder.
“Sweet fucking mercy.” Draco worked his hips in tandem with Ron’s bobbing, but it didn’t take much to push him over the edge. “I’m coming!”
Ron drank every drop, and when he withdrew, spit and cum mingled in his beard. Draco kissed the self-satisfied grin off his face, yanking him up by the nape of his neck.
“I hope you know what you’ve done,” Draco said against his mouth. “I’m not an easy one to shake.”
Ron matched Draco’s fervor with his teeth and tongue, holding both sides of his face. “Good.”