27. and Overload

AN: and the story of how university killed me. I'm sorry, I know I haven't updated in a couple of years, but I've been back into writing lately and I've been working on this story a bit so I decided an upload was long overdue. I've almost gotten my bachelor so hopefully that will give me a bit more time to time to focus on submerging myself in my other passion – writing.

WARNING: very explicit sex. And by 'very' I mean ohmygodthat'sexplicitsex sex. Yes. Also, anyone that does not like the idea of tongue-to-arse, you might want to just skip the sexscene (starts about 80 paragraphs into the chapter and ends at about 105 paragraphs) Also, I've switched the pov's for once. Well... not switched them, just that this time we get a bit of a better look at Ron's side of the story during the sex. Italics are still Draco's thoughts, but I give Ron a bit more attention than I usually do.

Also, well, the wanking thing was damn weird/awkward/bad, so I figured this sex could not possibly be worse, which cheered me up a bit.

"Draco?" Remus knocked before entering the bedroom.

The blonde was working at his desk, the record player playing old Beatles tunes. When he heard the brunette enter he closed his sketch book and turned to face him. He had cried, but knew there would be no traces left, since he had only briefly mourned the apparent loss of his sanity.

"Remus," Draco gave an acknowledging nod, "are you feeling better?"

"Much," Remus smiled, "I finished dinner. Almost everyone's downstairs already."

"Right," he put his utensils away, taking his book and hiding it in his drawer, "I'll be right there."

Remus left him after that, and Draco got out of his chair and stretched languidly. Then he turned off the record player, and looked at himself in the mirror. He combed his hair and folded the cuffs of his shirt properly, before heading downstairs.

When he entered the kitchen, planning on passing through to get outside, Ron was waiting there, leaning back against the counter. Draco headed over to him immediately, since he didn't appear to be angry with him, and kissed his cheek.

"I really don't want you to die a horrible death," he muttered, kissing it again, the skin salty against his lips, "you know I didn't mean it, right?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. He wrapped his arms around Draco's hips so he could hug him close, "I know. It pisses me off that they keep doing that. I told Harry but I don't know if he got it..."

"It's fine Ronald," Draco kissed the side of his face affectionately, "We'll find a way to make it work."

"I am sorry," Ron said sombrely, "it's supposed to be easy."

Draco looked up from his position on the boy's chest. The blue eyes were filled with a sad sort of anger, and he knew Ron just wanted to make everything alright again, for me.

"Drake..." he began but stopped himself, unable to find the right words to say what he wanted to.

Even though Draco wasn't one hundred percent sure he knew what Ron wanted to say—he couldn't be sure, because the hidden innuendo of it all would be the end of it—he smiled and nodded.

"Let's just have dinner for now," the blonde proposed, "dinner is nice. Remus made braised lamb, even though it's still summer. It smelled really nice."

"Alright," Ron pushed himself away from the counter, taking one of the pale hands in his own, squeezing it to reassure himself that Draco was not going anywhere, "if that's what you want, we'll go eat."

They went outside to join the others at the dinner table. Everyone was already there—including Mad-eye Moody and three other members, as the Order was apparently having a late-night meeting—and they had saved two seats for the boys, between Sirius and Harry. Draco talked to the older man, or to the oldest Weasley brothers seated across from him, while Ron and Harry discussed Quidditch. The wine was making Draco a little light headed, but the food was really good, the meat basically melting in his mouth before he could even chew.

Everyone seemed to immensely enjoy the food, and Remus took all their compliments with a blush on his cheeks. He himself didn't eat too much, since the Healer had said that although wine was alright during the pregnancy, too much was never good. He mostly ate vegetables and mash, but sometimes allowed Sirius to feed him a little bit of lamb. The raven seemed to be aware just how much was allowed, and Draco knew he had looked things like that up when they had originally tried to get pregnant.

Sirius was constantly taking care of the brunette, making sure he definitely didn't feed him too much of the meat, and constantly made sure he kept a good balance between the vegetables and the potatoes. Every now and then Draco would notice how Sirius' hand slipped to the brunette's belly, as if he would be able to feel if something was off.

When dessert was served—the cake they had made together, and chocolate pudding—Draco's hand was casually lying between him and Ron on the table and when Ron grabbed it with his own, bigger one, Draco felt like the happiest person alive.

Ron was still talking to Harry, but he'd noticed the hand and he had acted upon it. To think that the redhead kept an eye on him, always, made Draco so pathetically happy, he felt like scolding himself or melting into a little puddle. He rubbed his thumb over his lover's palm as a sign of contentment, and ignored how Bill and Charlie made cooing faces his way, before reengaging Sirius in conversation.

By the time they had cleared the tables and returned them back inside, it was already dark out, and rather late. The adults settled in the kitchen for their meeting, Dumbledore and some of the other members arriving while the others made their way upstairs. Draco tried lingering behind in hopes of seeing Severus, but when the man didn't arrive, he followed Ron upstairs as well, the redhead holding his hand firmly all the while.

Harry had already changed in his pyjamas, and since the two teens seemed tired, Draco thought it best to change as well. He would miss his bed, but he decided he would try explaining to Ron later, and then maybe he could persuade the redhead to spend some time in his room instead of Harry's. For the moment, he was just really glad he would be able to sleep beside Ron, because he'd missed the boy's warmth during the night he'd spent on the couch.

Draco let Ron undress him—it had become a ritual between them, they would always undress and dress each other before bed—lifting his arms so Ron could pull one of his own sweaters over the blonde head to cover the pale body.

"That reminds me," Ron murmured suddenly, his hands sliding down Draco's sides again and again, "I still have your shirt."

He took his rucksack and took out the white dress shirt he had borrowed from the blonde earlier. It was a bit rumpled from being in the bag, but Ron didn't seem to care, cuddling it into his chest.

"It was too small, obviously," the redhead smiled tenderly, returning to his spot between Draco's legs, "but if I left it undone I could wear it and it smelled like you."

He really wore it, Draco ran a hand through the red locks, Ron tipping forward involuntarily, face buried in the too-big fabric over Draco's stomach. Harry was looking at them from the corner of his eye, but Draco didn't care, caressing the freckled neck when Ron nuzzled against him.

"Will you wear it for me?" he whispered, bending forward to reach the redhead's ear—he watched Ron's spine tremble and licked his lips, the tip of his tongue grazing Ron's earlobe, "If it's too cold you can wear something underneath. Please let me see you wear it."

"Fuck," Ron breathed out against the t-shirt, warming Draco's skin through the fabric, "how am I supposed to resist when you say it like that?"

Draco answered with a low chuckle, leaning back so he could see Ron move more properly. The redhead pulled his t-shirt off over his head—pulling at the back of the shirt to get it off—shifting on his knees so he could throw his clothes together with Draco's in the hamper in the corner. Then, he fit the dress-shirt around his torso, first one arm slipping in, then the next following.

The blonde bent forward to kiss Ron's temple, sliding his hands down his revealed chest. It was true that the shirt was too small, but not by much, and Draco was sure one or two buttons could be closed. It were just his shoulders that were much broader, but that didn't matter, because Draco liked that fact that his lover was so nice and burly.

He settled his hands on Ron's belt so he could work on releasing it from his pants, nipping at the top of his ear. Ron mewled rather hoarsely, his eyes almost shut but half-lit, his hands stilling. Draco continued to work for him instead, unzipping his jeans and then pulling him up a bit using his hips. Ron moved easily to the silent question and straightened himself so the jeans could be pushed down to his knees.

When they'd reached that point, Draco crawled back onto the bed to let his lover finish unclothing, wrapping himself comfortably in a cocoon of blankets. Then he took off his jeans under the blankets, along with his boxers. He didn't want to sleep in them since he'd slept in them the previous night as well, and felt dirty for forgetting to change them. He managed to fold his jeans together with his boxers, and threw them in the hamper. The shirt Ron had given him reached below his ass, so he felt comfortable knowing his lover would probably not even notice that he wasn't wearing his underwear, and he could just borrow a pair of Ron's in the morning before going to get a pair of his own in his own room.

Ron finished undressing and lay down on the bed next to his lover, cuddling up under the blankets. They exchanged tired 'goodnight's and then Harry dimmed the lights and everything went dark.

Under the covers, Ron wrapped himself around Draco's smaller body, covering it almost completely with his own. Usually he would keep his distance when they went to bed, knowing that Draco didn't like to be touched when he tried to sleep, and then would end up entangled in the morning. Now, it was different, and the fact that Ron had to go without him for the night, caused him to disobey their unspoken rule, curling into the slim body, warming it from behind.

Draco purred softly—the sound hoarse and muffled by the thick covers tight around their bodies—Ron's bare legs meeting his own. The redhead encircled his waist and pulled his back against his own chest, kissing at the back of the pale neck. After three soft kisses, Ron nuzzled against him and settled down, relaxing the thigh he'd draped across Draco's body, his own frame going still as he slowly started to doze off.

Draco on the other hand, didn't feel tired at all. Since he had slept until noon, he was still rather awake, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for a long while. He wished he could just get up and go do something, but knew that if he would move, Ron would wake up.

Cursing himself silently, he moved a small bit to make him more comfortable. If he had just told the redhead he wasn't tired in the first place, there would have been no problem. But then Ron would probably already be asleep when Draco joined him in bed, and that way they wouldn't get to fall asleep completely entwined.

He was so sentimental that he had placed a cuddle before his other wants. He was an idiot.

He lay there for over ten minutes in absolute silence. He tried counting the stars that he could see through the window, but there weren't many and he was finished almost immediately. Then he tried to count the freckles on Ron's arm, slung around his waist, but it was too dark to see them properly.

Draco moved a little to make himself more comfortable, and felt lips press against the back of his neck.

"You're still awake?" Ron muttered tiredly, the breath warming Draco's neck.

"Mhm," the blonde nodded, pushing back into his lover's hard body.

He felt Ron move behind him, the redhead's grip loosening a little to allow Draco to move in the embrace. He did so, facing the other boy, even though it was too dark to see him properly. Draco could tell he still had his eyes closed, but his breathing wasn't as steady as it had been before, indicating he had indeed been roused from his slumber.

Ron pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, his hands moving to grasp the angular hips instead. They rubbed circles against the clothed sides while Ron's lips went on a quest in search of the softest piece of skin, meeting the underside of Draco's ear, and the sensitive spot above his Adam's apple on their way.

Draco sighed delicately, praying that Ron was just trying to calm him enough so he could sleep peacefully,if he goes on much longer, I won't be able to resist if he gets himself wound up.

Those hopes were completely crushed when Ron's hands moved under the too-big shirt deftly, wanting to settle on half-exposed hips instead. At first, Draco noticed nothing off, simply enjoying the wet pressure of a mouth against his skin, but then Ron stopped moving and he realised the redhead had noticed his lack of underwear.

And if that won't get him hot in two seconds flat, nothing else will, which might be what Draco wanted, really, but it was also what he couldn't have.

"Baby..." the sound of Ron's voice spoke volumes, telling Draco everything he needed to know before the boy could even finish his sentence, "you're naked under there?"

"I felt dirty sleeping with my boxers," Draco replied frankly, explaining: "I slept with them last night as well and—"

He was cut off from his whispered ramble when Ron moaned and pulled his bare waist against his own. Draco could feel the redhead's hardness now, hot and heavy and wet, and it definitely had not been there before.

The idea that just thinking of Draco naked made Ron so excited was a flattering one, and the blonde wished he could reward his lover for it, but they really couldn't.

"Freckles," he warned, though it was with no conviction, "Harry."

"Don't worry," Ron murmured, pushing himself into a sitting position, "Bill and Charlie helped me think of some tricks yesterday. I'll fix it."

Draco could see the contours of Ron's body, even though it was almost pitch black in the room, and heard the bed creak with Ron's movements. The redhead reached for the night stand, taking his wand off it. There were a few silent words and the tip of his wand burned a bright blue. From the corner of his eye, Draco could see a bubble appear around Potter's head in the same unnervingly bright blue, before it popped.

A deafening spell, Draco grinned suddenly at his lover's cunningness—who had ever said only Slytherins could be sneaky?—why haven't we thought of that before?

Next, Ron cast an incantation on the curtains, and they flew shut firmly, seemingly melting together to form a tight sort of ward around the bed, making sure that no one would be able to see what was going on in the bed, except if they managed to levitate up to the ceiling and peer over the curtains from that angle.

It was as if the whole world went dark, the black more pressing now that the bit of light that had been there before was shut out as well. The only way to locate Ron now was via his movements, and though the prospect of ohMerlinyeslove was exciting Draco, he would be disappointed if they were forced to do it in the dark.

Ron did not settle for disappointment, and strived to make his blonde lover as happy as he could manage. With a white spark from Ron's wand, half a dozen candles appeared in mid-air, setting the small make-shift room ablaze. They were immediately cast into the flickering light of the candles, and when their eyes met, Draco could see the Gryffindor's pride gleam brilliantly in the blue.

He placed his wand by the side of his pillow and moved back closer to Draco, licking his lips. The t-shirt covered Draco's chest and most of his thighs, but the marble skin of his legs and arms were revealed to the fickle flames, forcing the colours to shift from a yellowish white to dark gold whenever the candles moves and shifted the shadows thrown over the flesh.

"Draco," Ron leaned back to sit on his knees, staring at the play of light and limbs before him, "let me see you."

The hoarse voice visibly sent shivers up Draco's body, coursing through him and winding even his fingertips in a warm haze. Slowly, he reached for the t-shirt, teasing his thighs with his own fingers, imagining—wishingpraying—they were Ron's instead. Lasciviously, he pushed the seam up, revealing the creamy skin of his thighs first—parting them, willingly—before pushing up further and revealing himself, half-hard with excitement already. With the almost obscure growl Ron let out, Draco pulled the shirt up all the way to his chest, grazing his stiff nipples and bunching it at his neck.

"Touch me," Draco commanded in a lush voice, sounding to Ron like pure sex and even if he had wanted to disobey, he would not have been able to.

First, he let just a single finger wander. The tip was a little rough to the touch, and Draco had missed the feel of that coarser skin on his own supple one. It settled on the hollow of his throat, and began a way down, following first the line of the necklace, going right down the middle of Draco chest, over his sternum, tracing next to the key in a cruelly unhurried manner. Without wanting it to, Draco's back arched so his chest was pressed into the finger, the single touch sending a shockwave down to his cock, his skin breaking out in a sweat.

Ron dipped down into Draco's bellybutton and smiled, before curling his finger out of it and moving it sideways up his pelvic bone and down the strong thigh. It lingered there, drawing a quick heart, before sliding in between his legs to his inner thigh.

A quiver shook the strong muscles, and Ron revelled in the strong reaction, guiding his finger up again. He pressed his palm to the thigh completely, and gave the blonde a pleading look—as if Draco was obstructing him from taking what he wanted most.

"Please," Ron begged hoarsely, "show me my favourite place on your body?"

It took a moment for the request to process in Draco's head, but then he set to granting the redhead's wish. He pulled the shirt off over his head, tossing it back next to the pillow—a candle flickering at the rush of wind—before taking one of the rough hands. He brought it to his own hip, and with it in place, turned languidly onto his stomach. Ron aided him, canting his hips so his body was pivoted onto all fours.

Ron outstretched his fingers and grazed them over Draco's strong stomach while he lowered his lips, feasting on the skin of his lover's lower back. He tongued one of the two dimples that rested above the upward curve of Draco's arse and moved on to the next, tasting and nibbling on what he had been deprived of for so long.

With one hand on his hip and the other pressing into Draco's spine, he forced the blonde to lie down momentarily, so he could regard the entire picture. The blonde had moved his arms so he could rest his head upon them, which caused his shoulder-blades to protrude, running down to the pool of his lower back. The bumps in his spine were almost visible in his current position, but not completely, proving that he was slender, but not sickly skinny. His back—with the two dimples Ron absolutely adored—arched up beautifully into the plump arse.

It wasn't exactly big, but a little bit out of proportion compared to the rest of his body, always round and curved, making the slightly feminine figure his hips made more visible. His ass was firm and soft, invisible silver hairs covering it and making it so addictively nice to the touch.

Ron cupped the boy's ass in his hands, one side for each, and parted them, running his thumb over the moist inside. He was slick with transpiration, and the grazing of his thumb over the sensitive spot made Draco tremble once more, ohsogood.

Ron moved one hand to take one of the fluffy pillows, and directed Draco to push his hips up once more—offering the redhead with a ridiculously cherubic view—so he could push the pillow below him. The fabric pressed against Draco's hardness and he huffed silently. Where he had only been half-hard before, he was definitely turned on now, Ron's cautious exploration of his body slowly driving him crazy with need.

With Draco's hips permanently curved up as they were, Ron bent forward to taste his favourite spot again, nibbling at his lover's lower back. As he marked the skin—right above one of the dimples—with his teeth, he saw one of Draco's fists twitching above his head, hearing him trying to muffle a moan.

He grasped the fist and wove the fingers together with his own. He licked the blood-red mark he had left, and went to make another one, using more teeth and in turn hearing Draco hiss.

"Let me hear you," he whispered against the skin, watching goose bumps form along the line of Draco's spine, as if his breath had travelled over that line and reached the blonde's ear from thereon, "Draco, make pretty noises for me."

Draco tried to listen, but his Malfoy-pride was making it a little difficult, no matter how good the redhead was making him feel. When Ron left his third mark, he let a strangled cry loose, the sharp teeth breaking his skin before a delicate tongue lapped at the wounded flesh.

After a fourth marking, Ron's tongue moved lower, tasting at the mere starting point of the cleft of Draco's arse. The skin was soft and oddly flat there, as if someone had pressed his finger to it and it had left an everlasting imprint. It tasted sweaty and pungent, remarkably clean.

With two fingers, he parted the flesh and continued downward, drawing a surprised gasp-turned-groan from Draco. The blonde felt a wave of uneasy wash over him, realising he hadn't showered that day and he had been sweating for a while now, and there was no way Ron could enjoy doing that when he was obviously dirty and he felt himself tense on instinct, not wanting to displease his lover.

If he finds out I haven't showered in two days, he'll surely think I'm some sort of dirty fool, he chided himself, and his body tensed further.

Ron immediately noticed the tenseness in his frame, and when his tongue almost reached that sensitive area, he also felt the muscles his fingers were parting tense.

"Baby," he licked upwards and bit the plain he had tongued first, leaving a teeth-mark above the strangely flat spot, "I can't kiss you there if you're so tense."

"Then don't," Draco replied snappishly, "I'm dirty Ronald."

Ron nuzzled his lower back, and despite himself, Draco began to relax again.

"But you taste so good," the redhead purred, running his tongue in between the cheeks again. He kissed one and sucked softly, leaving a hickey on the inside of one of the globes, "if you're really uncomfortable, I won't. But don't tell me you don't want me to because you think I don't want to."

Since when are you so compassionate about what he wants anyway? A bitchy Draco asked, and he paused to think about it. He's my lover. Father always told me that if you cannot tell them how you feel, you should at least work hard to show them. I cannot have that Weasley thinking I'm some sort of dirty peasant. That's his role in this fairy tale!

"Would you like me to wash first?" Draco eventually proposed, thinking he might be more comfortable if he'd cleaned himself for the redhead.

He heard a soft chortle.

"Let me do that for you," Ron smirked against Draco's skin, and then pressed his tongue against Draco's hole.

The blonde moaned instantly, surprised at the sudden touch, the cautious push of Ron's tongue resulting in a strong shiver of his frame, feeling himself hardening against the pillow. If the sound he made hadn't been so sexy, Ron would have probably chuckled at his lover's surprise—as it was it only spurred him on—but instead he gave another lick, feeling the skin twitch against his tongue.

He leaned back on his knees to admire the sight for a brief moment, the moist skin clenching before relaxing again. Draco's back was curling with delight, voicing his pleasure openly now—the bedroom was probably the only place Draco let his true emotions show, though he remained as bossy as always, even at his peak of excitement—fingers tightening around Ron's.

"Mhm," Draco wriggled his ass in a rather inviting manner, Ron's fingers spreading his cheeks further, "don't stop."

It was hoarse, but an order all the same—all the boy's earlier reluctance dissolved at the received pleasure—so Ron dutifully obeyed, dragging his tongue in a long line over the boy's pert ass. He set it to work properly, licking at the slightly darker skin curiously, the taste unlike anything he'd ever had before. It was a bit salty with sweat and bitter, though not in a bad way. It made Ron heady with desire, the moans coming from his beautiful blonde encouraging him further.

Oh Merlin, Draco gasped when Ron wriggled a finger against him, circling his entrance before pushing in, fucksogood.

"Drake," Ron growled as he watched his finger twist inside the body beneath him, the tightness dragging it in further, "you're so hot."

Draco fisted the sheets with his free hand, pushing back into the redhead's prying finger—ohmypleasemore—setting their entwined hands on his own hip. Ron stroked it softly, pressing his open mouth against the boy's pucker, pushing his tongue out once more. Draco was babbling, something Ron had only heard him do when he was extremely desperate, ordering anything from ohgodnostop to ohyesrightthereRonald, which was just insanely hot. The scent was making him ardent, sinking through his entire body and filling him with an intense sort of love for the boy before him, so much so he never wanted to stop pleasuring him like this, wanting to lick and kiss and nibble him until he was putty and weak and completely and utterly satiated. He was straining in his boxers and was sure he had left a massive stain already, practically sick with excitement, but the sight before him was too erotic, and he would show the blonde his Gryffindor willpower, resisting the urge to simply take him and pound his tight ass into the mattress.

He watched and added a second digit, fingering his lover slowly, crooking them and then pushing them in deeper. As they disappeared completely, swallowed eagerly, he groaned loudly, kissing above the loosened hole in appreciation. It was insanely hot inside, and the need to taste him again became too great.

Ron scissored his fingers inside the blonde's ass, firming his tongue so he could push it inside. He thrust deeper, making Draco sufficiently wet for a third finger. He felt Draco's thighs shiver and was proud that he had managed to arouse his love so, sure now, that he was not the only one enjoying their encounter.

He continued thrusting and crooking until Draco was completely open and wet before him, the blonde grumbling for more and complaining about Ron's tempo. Ron pulled his tongue from the puckered opening and chortled huskily.

"Don't worry baby," he soothed, biting one of the ass-cheeks and then kissing the indent, "we have all night."

For once, he was determined to let all his inhibitions go, and make love to the blonde until he was too tired to move an inch.

Slowly, he moved his kisses up to the hollow at Draco's spine, where his earlier marks were hissing red. He continued to move his fingers in and out of the sinful body—spreading them and curling them to scrape the insides lightly—the slide slick with saliva and sweat and hunger.

His fangs dug in between the skin between the two dimples and he marked the pale flesh for a fifth time, addicted to the taste. He liked to know that he was the first to sample it, and would make sure he was the last to, as well. His mouth slid up over his spine, open-mouthed and leaving a wet trail that forced a shudder from Draco when air hit it.

When he reached the delicious neck, he nuzzled into it, inhaling the deep scent of Draco's hair. Ron's nose pushed insistently, silently begging for the pink lips. He heard Draco's shallow breath clearly now, could feel the back heaving with the exertion his lungs used, and felt the heat radiating from his body, his chest pressed into the sweaty back.

He knew his own breathing was laboured, and that Draco could probably hear his ragged breaths, but didn't care. For the moment, all Ron cared about was feeling those luscious lips against his own—tasting his mouth and touching his tongue—kissing him until they had no air left.

Draco craned his neck to brush his lips past Ron's, accommodating them into a soft kiss. It was slow and gentle at first, but he could taste his own skin in Ron's mouth, and the redhead was purring and pushing their tongues together, the want so clear, Draco could do nothing but deepen the kiss. He's so damn sexy, Draco brought up a hand to pull Ron's head closer rather awkwardly, not caring if he strained his neck, so fucking perfect to me.

"Ron," Draco bit the redhead's lip when they separated, his breathing hitching when Ron scissored his fingers again, "I want to feel you. Make love to me."

There was a pleading edge to the dark voice, but Draco was still above begging, he wants me, all he has to do is take me. Ron groaned at the command, pressing another kiss to the slightly reddened lips. His own felt a bit raw from the teeth Draco had added to the kiss, but he didn't care, the sting fuelling his desires.

He moved off Draco's body, and regarded his fingers for a split-second. It was almost enticing to see them move in and out, and Ron licked his lips in anticipation. It wouldn't be long now, before he replaced his fingers with something bigger and harder.

Draco squirmed against the mattress to urge him to hurry, wriggling his hips on top of the pillow. He gasped when he felt the fingers leave his body, and Ron kissed the side of his shoulder before flopping down next to him and fumbling with something under the bed. Draco had no idea what the redhead was up to, but from the sight of the tent in his boxers, he knew the boy wouldn't take much longer, since he was rock-hard and dripping.

Ron fished a bottle of lube out of the box he'd gotten from Bill and Charlie for his birthday—a present he had kept hidden under his bed ever since he'd seen the contents—glad he could finally put it to good use. They had never used actual lubricant for sex, but Ron didn't want to hurt his lover, and it had been a while since they had done this.

He uncapped the bottle and a sweet cherry scent filled the air—that at least explained why the bottle was red—tingling Draco's nostrils.

The blonde moved onto his side a bit uncomfortably, looking at Ron curiously. He was smirking, and when he saw that Draco was watching him—the grey tainted with horny black—he pushed his boxers down, forgetting about his usual shyness and revealing his proud erection before the younger boy.

Draco bit his lip at the sight—so long since I saw him, hard and wanting—moving onto his knees so he could touch the redhead easily. He grasped one hip, digging his short nails in, and palmed Ron's length with the other.

"Ngh, Drake," Ron gasped at the sudden move, and Draco's lips curled up into a fond smile.

He deftly took the red vial from Ron's trembling hands, and squirted a generous amount on the head of the boy's cock. It was transparent red and wet, running down slickly and forcing another gasp from Ron's lips, the feeling surprising him. Draco capped the bottle and tossed it to the side, pushing two fingers against the warm hardness and spreading the red liquid over it.

Ron cupped Draco cheek gently, drawing his attention away from the sight of the red coating he was giving his lover, to his own face. Their looks crossed and Draco pushed their noses together sweetly, before granting him with another kiss. Lazily, their tongues battled for dominance, while their bodies fought to keep themselves in check.

With a sigh, they parted,I really need him, now, I won't hold out much longer. Ron fluffed one of the pillows in invitation, and Draco resumed his earlier position. He shifted the pillow under his hips and curved his back upwards to make his figure more appealing to the redhead. His hips were canted perfectly for Ron's entry, and Draco spread his legs further, pushing up on his knees a little so he would be able to push into Ron's body if he wished to.

Ron could only stare as he prepared himself for their lovemaking, in awe of how well Draco truly knew him. He had never told him the curve of his body drove him insane, yet he knew all the same. The fact that he shifted his weight to his knees slightly so he would be able to react to Ron's thrusts excited him further, and he crawled behind the waiting body.

With one hand, he grasped a pale one, pushing it into the mattress but wanting to feel it anyway, just to be sure. He leaned forward into Draco's back, fitting his belly against the curve perfectly and it feels so beautiful. The flaps of his—mine—shirt stroked Draco's sides sensually, and one of the broad hands spread Draco cheeks.

He pushed his nose to the pale shoulder and pressed against the puckered flesh—Draco tensed as soon as he felt it, but he was looking forward to the wanted stretch—pushing until he felt himself slide in and slide home.

Draco whimpered wantonly, grasping at Ron's fingers to convey the feelings he could not word, tightening himself to drag Ron in further.

"Oh," Ron sighed happily, his eyelids fluttering against the over-sensitive skin at Draco's neck, "mmm, Draco."

Draco agreed with a feral purr, grasping the bare freckled ass with a strong hand. He pushed it against his own completely, forcing a rough thrust from the redhead and then a hiss when his nails left angry crescents on Ron's sensitive skin. The slide was fucking incredible, tight and hot and oh.

Ron curved his chest against Draco's back and began moving his hips languidly, seeking an adequate rhythm to please the blonde. He pushed in as far as he could go, then pulled out and repeated the process, Draco moaning with every slick slide-in.

A callused hand held his pale hip and stroked over his stomach, caressing his twitching muscles. Draco felt himself open up with each of Ron's movements, his girth going much deeper than his fingers could, sheathing him perfectly. The boy stretched him just enough for it to sting a little, without hurting him. Whenever he felt Ron pulse inside of him, he would squeeze the boy's ass in agreement, hearing the redhead's broken pants hushed against his skin.

He spread his pale thighs further, and Ron's pushes became more forceful, opening the pliant flesh without relent. The redhead enjoyed drawing out his thrusts, pushing in harder but pulling out in a too stretched-out motion, slow, so Draco could feel him completely. One of his hands pushed Draco's into the duvet, using it to stabilize his weight when he leaned back from the body, before bending into the slighter frame again with a rough push-in. His other drew circles on Draco's abdomen, teasing the flesh and flattening against it so he could push the boy's arse closer to his own waist whenever it was necessary.

Draco watched their entwined hands with hazy eyes, clouded with lust at the sole feeling of Ronald, absolutely everywhere. The tongue pressed into his neck, fingers brushing past his belly-button, chest pressed to sweaty back and, yes, hard and unrelenting inside of him. The push-slapslurp-slide of their hips was the only thing tangible, warming him from the inside-out. He responded eagerly, swinging his hips back to meet the broader ones mid-thrust.

Ron muttered his name, over and over again, his breath tickling against Draco's back, but it was just so beautiful to hear him. The noises slipping past his lips were almost pornographic, insanely hot and he was constantly somewhere between pleading, pleaseDracoyes, and swearing, ohfuckMerlinrightthere. Their breaths were laboured and filling the makeshift space together with the slick slide of their bodies and the chanting of moans and whispers and purrs.

The blonde pushed himself up on his knees when the tension in his abdomen became too much, shamelessly impaling himself on his lover's girth, pulling the tan ass against him sharply. He groaned, rightthere, when Ron responded to the action by pounding into him harder, battering his spot ruthlessly.

A wave of air brushed over his sweaty back when Ron straightened on his knees, snapping his hips faster and putting more force behind every push. He brought the hand he had entwined with Draco's to the pale back, using it to spread the pale buttocks so he could watch himself disappear inside the willing body. The pink hole clenched around him and he pressed his thumb to it, the other hand settling on Draco's hip more firmly while the fingers continued teasing his stomach. Draco groaned and tightened himself purposely, forcing the redhead to prolong his next thrust so he could happily feel each inch slide out of him.

"Ohfuckyes," Draco moaned into the pillow, nails scratching at Ron's ass to keep him tight against him. Then the boy continued his pummelling, thrusting vigorously, so damn hard Draco was literally seeing fucking stars, "Don't stop, don'teverstop, I'll die if you stop."

Draco's vacuous muttering rolled through the air with each twist of Ron's hips, every shove bringing him closer to his completion. Ron was thumbing his flesh almost casually, touching the spread-tight hole to anticipate its reactions. He watched it twitch and felt it around his cock, the tension climbing steadily upwards and his movements became slightly frenzied. Draco's body was quivering so beautifully below his own, his legs spread wide to be able to receive all of him, his chest pressed against the duvet and his arse curved up in the air to meet Ron. He knew the blonde was close, but knew his own climax was closer, and tried holding it off for as long as he could.

Instead of speeding up, he slowed his pace, making every move pin-pointed to hit Draco in just the right spot, a moan resounding each time to attest to the professionalism of his movements. The pale flesh was up in goose bumps, tingling under Ron's fingertips, and Ron fit his belly in the curve of Draco's back, leaning heavily into the shivering frame and sliding all the way in sensually, keeping still a long—earthshakinglybeautiful—moment, Draco's resulting moan nothing but a desperate cry of Ronald.

"I'm so close," Ron admitted hoarsely, setting his hips into motion again.

His lips sucked on the soft skin of Draco's jaw, and he wasn't completely sure the boy had even heard him. His breathing was hard and his voice had hitched halfway through, exertion and the coiling tension in his stomach enabling his speech.

"Good," Draco replied, moaning. He turned his head so he could see Ron's eyes, licking at the chapped lips, "I want you to come inside me. Make me yours."

With that, the warmth in Ron's abdomen tensed and coiled and then snapped, the redhead's come splattering in long thick ropes of white passion, ornamenting Draco's insides. He pushed his hips forward as far as they could go, leaning his whole weight against Draco's ass and Draco sobbed when his abused body twitched around Ron, eagerly taking all he had to offer, "Ronald, too much."

His own orgasm followed while Ron was still emptying himself, wave after wave of hotwhiteyes running up his spine and going straight to his cock, his sight going completely blank when he felt his own seed coat the sheets, his chest and Ron's teasing fingers, my God he makes me feel good.

He came to himself just in time to hear his own name from Ron's lips when the boy stilled against him, still buried balls-deep. They shuddered together and they went rigid again, before slacking against the mattress together. Draco's knees buckled and his body fell into the duvet heavily, Ron's following.

For a moment they just lay panting, Ron's lips pressed mindless kisses as he tried regaining his breath. Draco forced himself to even out his exhales, his senses tingling and screaming, body warm with a healthy post-coitus blush.

They didn't move. Draco found that he didn't really want to move, either, or wanted Ron to move, for that matter. I want him to stay against me, inside me, even if we're sweaty and I'll regret it later. I need to know he's here.

A pale palm cupped one of Ron's buttocks, stroking it tenderly as he purred. He pressed a kiss to Ron's nose, the blue eyes having drooped shut, and watched them flutter open again. Ron was smiling one of those ridiculously sheepish smiles, show-casting his contentment.

Ron's hand was still trapped between their bodies, and he moved it out uneasily, linking the fingers with Draco's. His other was set comfortably on a pale hip, and he was too lazy to move it, even though his shoulder was a little bit bent.

"Am I too heavy?" Ron questioned eventually, voice raw.

He pushed his nose against Draco's and licked his lover's lips sluggishly and then pressed a brief kiss to them. Draco shook his head, kissing him tenderly, opening his mouth in invitation. Ron hummed delectably, moving his hand slowly to trail his lover's figure.

They lay like that for a while longer, simply enjoying the intimate embrace, since it had been over a week since they had had a chance to have a nice post-coital cuddle. Draco had to admit that although he usually didn't actually like post-coital cuddles, this one was long-overdue, and after practically begging the redhead to make me yours—and the boy complying—he figured one little cuddle couldn't hurt.

Besides, Ron was constantly laving his shoulder and neck with his sweet lips and a wet tongue and that was just heaven while he came down from his high.

Eventually, the heat between them went from bearing to stifling, and Ron listlessly went to move off the smaller body. He took his time pulling out, watching the milky thighs shiver as he did so, not wanting to overdo his lover's sore muscles. Some of his own release ran down from the battered spot and Ron licked his lips at the sight, pressing a kiss against Draco's shoulder. When he continued shivering, even after Ron had pulled out completely, the redhead worried slightly.

Draco was biting his lip, though he didn't appear to be in actual pain. He was twitching, his hips shaking on the pillow and his legs spread wide, the muscles in his thighs spasming.

"Sweetheart, relax," Ron cooed, kissing him below his ear in the hope of soothing him.

Draco purred appreciatively, but he was still shivering. Ron patted his back compassionately and then pushed two fingers between his pert cheeks, flattening them over the chaffed little hole. Immediately, the blonde stilled.

"Better?" Ron muttered hopefully and Draco nodded, turning onto his side so he could kiss the redhead properly as a way of saying thanks.

He nuzzled into the broader body and mewled when the fingers moved in petite calming circles. Their lips brushed together and Draco wrapped his arms around the redhead's neck, keeping him close. He let his hand follow the line of Ron's side, stroking down from the pit of his arm to his waist.

They continued to lay in silence, heads together on the clean—untainted—pillow, exchanging tender kisses every now and then until their heartbeats fully returned to normal.

"So," Draco nuzzled Ron's face cutely, cupping his cheek and stroking it with his thumb—a smile on his face as he closed his eyes, content, "did you get a chance to talk to your grandmother?"

"Mhm," Ron nodded, watching the blonde's face intently—he looked so calm and serene, Ron just wanted to kiss him all over, "that reminds me. Charlie told me to write it down, wait a sec."

He turned around to take his wand, and preformed a quick 'accio'. Draco frowned when a small piece of paper appeared from behind the drapes, but Ron just winked and kissed his nose.

"We were having a discussion over dinner, and when nana continued being a general pain in the ass, nagging about your parents and whatnot, my dad interrupted," Ron scraped his throat in a way people do when they have an important speech to give, and with a smirk thrown Draco's way, he continued: "my father said and I quote: Draco is not his father, just like Lucius, wasn't Lucien. Now I can't honestly say I ever even liked Draco's father, and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual, but who I despised perhaps most of all, was Draco's grandfather, and okay, admitted, ending up with a Malfoy was not what I'd wanted for any of my children, but then I remember Lucius, and mother, you need to understand that if Draco even cares for his loved ones half as well as his father did, we have nothing to worry about. And mother, I truly understand your reluctance, I do, he's a Slytherin and whatnot, but Sirius is right when he says that the colours Hogwarts give you do not determine who you are and what you do. You must never let them limit you, they are your aid and you should wear them with pride but then you cannot judge another for wearing his with equally as much pride," Ron took a deep breath and turned his parchment, "Mother, we are not going to talk about this as if it's up for debate. Ron loves Draco, and that should suffice."

He beamed and tossed the paper away, pressing a kiss to Draco's cheek. The blonde was smirking, an eyebrow raised.

"He really said all that?" he queried, Ron nodding his head avidly, "about my dad and his loved ones?" another nod, "I had no idea he was so..."

"Supportive?" Ron chuckled, "Me neither. But I'm glad for it. He really got nana to give you another chance. She says we should bring you next time we go home, so she can meet you properly."

"Alright," Draco nodded, the prospect of seeing the old bat is not appealing at all, but after what mister Weasley said, I can't exactly protest, "I'll just be my charming self then."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Ron remarked carelessly, kissing his lover skilfully, "you had no problem with the rest of my relatives."

"That's because they're all perverts," Draco rolled his eyes, "which is proven by the fact that Bill and Charlie took to me immediately and Fred and George still enjoy glaring at me."

"They're not that perverted..." Ron tried to sound convincing, but failed—when he saw Draco's look of disbelief, he coughed, embarrassed, "alright, perhaps they are..."

Draco wisely decided not to say a word.

They continued to just rest in silence for some time longer, their hands caressing soft patches of each other's body with a strange sort of tranquillity. It was as if all time beyond them stood still, and this world—this between-the-drapes-and-candles moment—was quiet, void of conflict and thought, nothing tangible, nothing hurt, they just were, and for the time being, it is all I could ever hope for.

They talked about what they had done with their time—Ron cleaning, and nothing but—and the redhead seemed so honestly interested in how Draco had spent his time, it made Draco's stomach do summersaults, to know that the boy found him so obviously fascinating. He demanded Draco show him his drawings, won't take no for an answer either, the bitch, and Draco knew that if anyone else—even Blaise—would ask him to show them his most private drawings, he would say no. But Ron had already seen, and Draco felt comfortable with him, knowing the redhead wouldn't judge him, or compliment him unless he was sincere. It felt safe.

Ron explained that Ginny had apologised for her behaviour, and even though he was still upset with his sister he'd forgiven her.

"She was really hoping on Tonks and Remus getting together," Ron said with a shrug, showing that he hadn't actually cared much for Tonks' loss. He told Draco about how he'd talked to her about it, and that she finally seemed to understand that two guys falling in love did not necessarily mean they were just a phase. He had tried using the example of their parents—since they had gotten together in high school—explaining that sometimes, love just lasted forever, and that that kind of love did not nearly exist solely between a man and a woman. With red cheeks he admitted that he had actually had needed to educate her in such things, since, surprisingly, her ideas had been biased.

They were no longer, according the Ron.

"It also helps that she absolutely adores you," the redhead added with a chuckle, ignoring his shown embarrassment, ears burning red as well.

For that, Draco had rewarded him with a kiss, and it had only made him blush more.

They continued talking until the candles floating around them had burned down almost halfway, about anything and everything that crossed their minds, until Draco remembered something. He had wondered about it while they were making love, but hadn't questioned the redhead at the time, too preoccupied with the wonderful daze the boy had put him in.

"Ron, I wondered before," he reached over the redhead's body to reach something next to the pillow, "what spurred you to buy this?"

He presented the red bottle of lube with a raised eyebrow, Ron's eyes widening. He gave an embarrassed cough, snatched the bottle from the blonde's hand, and tossed it backwards.

"I didn't," Ron pouted, pulling Draco's body in a little closer, using the hands he still had posed on the pale backside, "I got a whole box full with stuff like that from Bill and Charlie, for my birthday. They said that now that I was a man, I deserved manly tricks, the wankers."

Draco chortled at the tone, cupping his jaw with a still-damp palm.

"You should thank them," he joked, seeing Ron's face become remarkably paler, "we've managed to put it to fairly good use, don't you think?"

Though Ron's ears were still red, he grinned, pressing forward into a kiss. Draco laughed against the redhead's lips, until he felt his tongue pry and submitted, quite willingly, giving himself to his lover. Their chests pressed together and Ron's hand was squeezing into his arse and there was a sort of overwhelming wanting that gnawed at Draco's chest as if it was about to eat him from the inside-out.

He could not describe the feeling, not even to himself, and he did not know why he felt it at that particular moment, with that particular kiss. He did know that though it was not an altogether pleasant feeling, it was not bad either, but instead it made him actually feel, something he couldn't really remember he had ever done so vividly, with so much force, before that moment.

Of course he knew that in itself was a lie, because he had always felt for Ron, even before, but ever since—do not go there—feelings had been numbed, even when they were so fierce that it seemed as if his heart would burst out of his chest he knew that they were but a shimmer of what they would've been if his parents hadn't...

Ron pulled back from the kiss when he felt salty tears. Draco was crying without realising it, grumbling confusedly at the broken contact.

"Why'd you stop?" the blonde complained, I don't want to think, he needs to kiss me again.

"Baby, you're crying," Ron uttered softly.

Draco frowned and wiped at his cheeks, the redhead aiding him with callused fingers. When he realised he was indeed crying, he just shrugged, willing himself to stop.

"What are you thinking about?" Ron asked gently, nuzzling into the blonde's cheek.

"I was just..." he calmed himself, I can't not tell him, "my parents."

He tried to not look at Ron's face, because he knew the boy would look worried and didn't want that. Instead, he kissed the freckled skin before him, nipping at his lover's neck.

"Drake..." the sound was somewhere between a moan and a huff, and Draco chuckled, moving back to meet Ron's look.

"I'm fine," he said in a stable voice, conveying his seriousness with a small sneer of his lips, "I would tell you if I wasn't."

He could see Ron doubt, and knew the redhead felt tempted to ask, 'would you really?' though he didn't. Draco was glad for it, because he really did not want to fight at that moment—he didn't mind fighting and bickering, since he liked having a discussion about even trivial things—he was too relaxed.

Ron cuddled tighter into Draco's body, pulling up the blankets from by their feet to get a bit warmed up again. The candles flickering around their heads were giving up some heat, but their previously hot bodies were cooling down rather quickly.

"Draco?" the blonde was making himself comfortable on their shared pillow—the other dirtied—tucking his hands between Ron's hot thighs for warmth, but looked up at Ron's questioning voice, "Can I take your picture?"

To Draco's surprise Ron didn't blush, despite the nature of the request. He just looked Draco straight in the eye, blinking expectantly.

"Now?" Ron nodded simply, and Draco tipped up an eyebrow gracefully, "Alright."

He watched the redhead move to retrieve his wand and summon the small camera from his jeans, all his muscles fletching and stretching. Turning onto his stomach, he smirked as he mulled the request over in his head. It wouldn't be fair not to let him have one, he decided,since I took his picture while he slept. Besides, he already has one of my stomach, it couldn't get any worse.

The flash that went off surprised him, and he frowned when Ron chuckled.

"Give me that," with a possessive growl he swiped the camera from Ron's hands, turning it on him instead.

Ron's eyes widened when the camera went off—he was naked, leaning back on his knees with all of his bared skin showing—gaining a blush. Not even this new, bolder Ron was unaffected with the knowledge that he was naked on film.

"You're very handsome," Draco commented, almost casually. He leaned on his elbows and watched at the bits of paper emerging—one showing himself, grinning, the other showing freckled skin and nakedness—before taking another picture, "absolutely gorgeous."

"Well, you're really—" before Ron could return the sentiment, Draco pushed two pale fingers against his lips to silence him.

"I'm telling you I think you're gorgeous," he stated, "not because I want you to compliment me, not because I hope to gain anything from it, but because you're perfect to me. Sometimes you should just take praise and understand that I mean it."

Ron's eyes darkened and he looked down at his lap. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes shifted to Draco, to the duvet, and back to his lap, nervous. Draco stayed silent, watching the third picture fall from the device in his hands.

"Thank you," Ron eventually said silently.

Draco smiled, turning to him. He was still staring at his lap rather sheepishly.

"You're welcome," he leaned up to kiss him, moving from his lying position into a sitting one, "mhm."

Ron tried to take the camera from Draco while they kissed, resulting in another flash and them falling to the mattress in a fit of giggles at the new picture that emerged. Ron teased the blonde mercilessly with his camera, trying to take pictures of hidden pieces of skin resting below the blankets and they played around a little, kissing and touching all the while.

They ended up on the wrong side of the bed, on their sides with their hands exploring each other's skin languidly. Their playful banter had calmed them somewhat, though Draco still wasn't tired. He enjoyed resting with Ron, and being able to sample his skin without further intentions—though further intentions were nice too—but he knew he would not be able to sleep yet, even if the redhead looked tired himself.

"Drake..." he had closed his eyes, unaware that Draco was still watching him—his fingertips drifting over Draco's chest—and licked his lips lazily, "do you remember when I asked if we could go out together?"

Draco smiled, brushing his thumb past a freckle on the redhead's arm. One blue eye peered open, taking in the blonde's radiant smile with a twinkle highlighting the navy.

"Yes," he answered curtly, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.

"I really want to," Ron muttered, opening both eyes, "it's just... I'm not really good at it. But Sirius said that there's a park within walking distance and that it has a lake and that it's nice and maybe—"

"You asked Sirius?" Draco's smile widened as Ron rambled, and the redhead nodded.

"Is that bad? Because, I mean..." he looked terrified, and Draco shook his head, grasping the naked side to still him.

"No," he pressed a kiss to Ron's lips, moving to lie on his back, "the park sounds very nice. When would you like to go?"

"I thought maybe tomorrow evening?" Ron followed the pale body, leaning atop it. "Sirius says there aren't maybe people there during the week."

"Alright," Draco pulled Ron closer by his hips, parting his thighs to accommodate the redhead, "it's a date."

Ron chortled at the lame play-on-words, kissing the rosy lips once more. He gasped and then purred, hands running down the milky sides and up again.

"Draco..." Ron sounded as if he was doubting something, and Draco listened a bit anxiously, what happened? "Would it be terrible if I made love to you before the date?"

A relieved breath escaped the blonde, and he rolled his eyes when he realised Ron had only been faking his nerves.

"You're an idiot Weasley," Draco pulled the boy's head down to meet his in a kiss once more. Then he pushed his hips up against Ron's, and groaned, purring into an ear: "Ronald, make love to me hard."

They made love until the candles burned down and then re-appeared and waned again. By the time they were done, Draco felt well and thoroughly fucked, his whole body tingling, glowing and refusing to settle down. He felt on fire and full, his insides abused and his hips scratched, but it felt so good.

Ron fell asleep almost immediately after their lovemaking, his multiple orgasms draining him completely. The exertion had caused him to slack, and he had rested between Draco's legs still, his head on the pale chest and his arms around the waist possessively. Draco didn't bother to protest, the weight welcoming. His limbs would be sore in the morning and he was sure sitting would be a rather unpleasant experience, but that was just something he'd have to deal with later.

The bounding spell on the drapes had been undone, and the candles had burned down to little stubs of wax, this time not replacing themselves. Harry was snoring and his head flowed blue, indicating the spell was lifted. Outside, birds were already chirping, and early rays of sunlight came in through the drapes.

Draco yawned, too tired to move, and closed his eyes. He would sleep well, and he would not dream, he was too exhausted for it. His hand absentmindedly carded patterns through the ginger hair, before he too, drifted off to sleep.

AN: yes. I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA READER FOR THIS STORY! Any volunteers?

Hope you guys enjoyed and that it was worth the long wait! Much love~!