_titan & randiriel
Author: _titan
Title: Wings
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Challenge: Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow/what you need is someone strong to use you/like me - Tool, Opiate
Ron sat, shoulders stooped, on the ledge of Draco's bedroom. His eyes swivelled back and forth, taking in the opulent decorations. The huge bed was covered in a black velvet comforter, with satin pillows at the end. An antique Ming dynasty vase stood atop a ornate wardrobe that Ron could only imagine was made in France several hundred years ago. The desk was probably older.
Ron rolled his eyes. He was not impressed. Draco, leaning with a smirk across his face, and naught but leather pants, unbuttoned at the top, on the other hand...
Ron smiled wryly at him.
"Jesus, Malfoy. This room just screams 'EVOL flamer".
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Weasley. Unlike you, I like to make my sexuality known. Despite the many examples to the contrary, breaking girls hearts is not my style."
Ron nodded. He peered at Draco for a moment longer, then stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt, watching Draco's eyes and face, which lit up with hunger.
Draco pushed himself away from the wall, and walked, haltingly, over to Ron.
He reached for Ron's collar. For a moment, Ron's eyes darkened. Then he swung his arm away from his shirt front, hitting Draco with enough force to send him flying to the floor.
For a moment, both boys were still. The Draco pushed himself up on his arms and touched the small pool of blood forming beneath him. His head bent, and his white gold hair tosselled, Ron saw for a moment a vision of a fallen angel, his wings broken. Then Draco lifted his head and started at Ron, blood dipping down his lips and forehead. The look in his eyes was anything but angelic.
He stood, and walked shaking, back to Ron. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and his lips, tremblingly.
"Hit me again Weasley."
Author: randiriel
Title: Bloody Fucking Hell
Word count: 1494
Rating: R for language.
Warning: This is un-beta’d, as I finished it at 4:15 in the morning, a pairing I can’t ever imagine happening, and my very first HP fandom fic. Comments and harsh criticism are welcome, even wanted. My email is Randiriel@livejournal.com. Thanks!
Ron ducked his head and made sure there was no one nearby to see him as he stepped into the small area of Knockturn Alley filled almost entirely with different sorts of whorehouses. He had no idea what he was thinking, being there...but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Getting shagged at Hogwarts was not going to happen. Not with a bloke anyway...
Hogwarts was a surprisingly narrow-minded school, when it came to homosexuality. At least where Slytherins were concerned. Honestly. It seemed as though all of their cruelty came right down to procreation. Muggles and fags were dealt with brutally, and were strictly off-limits for fucking. Ron couldn’t even remember how many times he’d seen the couple of students who were “out” come to class with broken arms and blackened eyes. And no matter how many times the Slytherins would beat the piss out of a gay student, no one would ever rat them out. It’d just end up even worse for them the next time.
This was Ron’s last day of summer vacation, just before his last term at Hogwarts, and what he considered to be his only chance left for getting laid before he was out of school forever. He’d put it off until now because...well, frankly, because he was ashamed, and angry with himself. It had taken him long enough to realize he was gay, he doubted he’d ever quite come to terms with it. Bill had married Fleur, Charlie and Fred had married nice women from nice wizarding families, and George was dating a very wealthy, very spunky Muggle-born girl...living up to family expectations just didn’t seem possible anymore.
Ron shook his head, realizing that he had been simply standing outside the brothel, thinking, while people came and went, looking at him strangely. Luckily no one had seemed to recognize him He took a deep breath and walked through the door.
The man behind the counter was tall, and lean, and... flamboyant. His shirt was green and see-through, his denim shorts were so tight Ron was amazed he’d been able to put them on, and was also sure that if the man were to turn around, he’d see far more arse than most people would bargain for. He appeared to be wearing make-up.
“Can I help you, doll?” He said, with an American accent.
“Er... I, uh....” Ron’s mind was an utter blank.
“You...what?” He smirked, as Ron cleared his throat, and interrupted before Ron could try to speak again. “You’re looking for a good time, obviously.”
Ron nodded.
“What’cha ya like? Tall? Dark? Blonde? Built? You a top or bottom? Or are you vanilla?”
Ron just stood there, and tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling as though the room was closing in on him. He had no idea what this guy was talking about. And why in Hecate’s name did they keep it so hot in here?
The man behind the counter chuckled. “It’s okay, sugar. We get a lot of virgins in here.”
“Bloody hell, am I that obvious?” Ron knew the answer to that. But at least this time he’d managed a fully formed sentence. The guy just chuckled again.
“Do you want it rough? We’ve got lots of pretty boys who specialize in whips, hot wax; you name it, baby, we’ve got it.”
Ron thought he might pass out.
Another chuckle.
“You’re cute. I think it’s safe to assume you’re vanilla. And...you want to tell someone what to do, or be told what to do?”
Ron had no idea what he was doing, but he figured, if he was paying, he might as well tell them what to do, right?
“Um...tell them?”
“Excellent! I’ll give you room number three. He’s gorgeous, and really gets off on being ordered around.”
“I...um...okay...” For crying out loud...wasn’t there any air in this building?
“Just head right up those steps, honey. Second door on the left.” He grinned and winked at Ron. “Have fun.”
****
Draco sighed as he the little glass ball on the nightstand next to the bed filled with green smoke. He had a customer. Hopefully this one wouldn’t be a sissy, like the last. He put down the book he’d been reading, undid the top button on his leather trousers, and posed, leaning against the dresser.
He’d better get a fucking tip this time, too. This was the only way he’d been able to make any decent money at all, since his mother had gone missing, and his father was rather...indisposed in Azkaban. He’d had no idea what to do about the family finances or manor, since he’d never been told how, or what to do in such an instance. He’d been ordered to do everything, since he could remember, and when it was all left to him he was completely lost. Last summer he’d fallen into prostitution after he’d let the solicitor fuck him in lieu of payment. He’d said Draco should be a professional whore...And here he was.
While most of him really wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, a small part of him wanted a really good fuck. One last shag before school started, and he had to go back to the arrogant, bossy, womanizing front his father had beat him into.
And then the door opened, shaking him out of his thoughts, and in walked...Merlin.
“Weasley?” Draco asked, incredulously, “Bloody fucking hell.”
Ron froze in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow. Draco was dumbfounded. And petrified. If his classmates were to find out about this...there was a good chance he wouldn’t live to see morning.
****
Ron looked at Malfoy, leaning against the dark, wooden dresser. This was not at all what he had expected. But, for some reason, he felt instantly more comfortable. He knew Malfoy. This was no longer a strange place, or having sex for the first time with some strange person. This was the arrogant bastard he’d hated for six years.
“Well, Malfoy...you’re not quite what I was expecting, either.”
“You won’t...tell anyone at school...will you?” Malfoy sounded surprisingly meek. Not at all the Draco he was used to.
“Right, because I want to be beaten to within an inch of my life because I was in a whorehouse full of fairies?”
Draco looked a bit less like a deer in the headlights.
Ron closed the door behind him and leaned on it, looking around. The room was full of dark, expensive wood furniture, a huge bed with a black velvet bedspread and wine colored satin sheets, and a large mirror on the ceiling. It probably cost more money to furnish this one room than it cost to decorate the entirety of the Burrow, but being in a brothel made it somewhat less impressive. Draco, still leaning against the dresser, wearing nothing but leather trousers with the top button undone, and what he could only describe as a “lost little boy” look on his face, however...that was an entirely different story. He was beginning to see Malfoy in an entirely different manner.
Ron raised an eyebrow at Malfoy.
“This room just screams ‘expensive fag whore’, Malfoy. I hope this isn’t how you usually decorate.”
Draco smirked at Ron then, seeming a bit more at ease. “Well, Weasley, it’s not exactly like you can hide your sexuality here.”
Ron just looked at Draco for a moment, and then pushed himself away from the door and started to slowly unbutton his shirt.
****
Draco was relieved when Weasley started to unbutton his shirt. He this situation was one he was familiar with. He stepped away from the dresser and closed the space between them, reaching for Ron’s collar. Ron’s eyes darkened for a moment, and Draco took that as a cue. He leaned in and ran his tongue along Weasley’s bottom lip.
Ron just stood there, still for half a second, and then suddenly he swung his arm away from himself, hitting Draco across the face hard enough to knock him onto the floor.
****
Ron looked down at Draco on the floor, looking almost like a fallen angel with his eyes averted, and his pale skin, his no-longer perfectly arranged blond hair, a small trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. Then he looked up at Ron, and the look in his eyes was anything but angelic. The hatred he had felt for Malfoy for the past six years was tightening in his chest, and a small tendril of lust was curling and pooling low in his stomach. He was disgusted at himself for enjoying Malfoy licking his lip the way he had...for the way that look was making him feel.
“I didn’t say you could touch me, Malfoy,” he said, coldly.
Draco stood and stepped, shaking slightly, close to Ron, standing close enough that Ron could feel the breath on his face from Draco’s trembling, slightly parted lips. Draco’s eyes were wide, and filled with a dark anticipation.
“Hit me again, Weasley.”
Title: Wings
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Challenge: Deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow/what you need is someone strong to use you/like me - Tool, Opiate
Ron sat, shoulders stooped, on the ledge of Draco's bedroom. His eyes swivelled back and forth, taking in the opulent decorations. The huge bed was covered in a black velvet comforter, with satin pillows at the end. An antique Ming dynasty vase stood atop a ornate wardrobe that Ron could only imagine was made in France several hundred years ago. The desk was probably older.
Ron rolled his eyes. He was not impressed. Draco, leaning with a smirk across his face, and naught but leather pants, unbuttoned at the top, on the other hand...
Ron smiled wryly at him.
"Jesus, Malfoy. This room just screams 'EVOL flamer".
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Weasley. Unlike you, I like to make my sexuality known. Despite the many examples to the contrary, breaking girls hearts is not my style."
Ron nodded. He peered at Draco for a moment longer, then stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt, watching Draco's eyes and face, which lit up with hunger.
Draco pushed himself away from the wall, and walked, haltingly, over to Ron.
He reached for Ron's collar. For a moment, Ron's eyes darkened. Then he swung his arm away from his shirt front, hitting Draco with enough force to send him flying to the floor.
For a moment, both boys were still. The Draco pushed himself up on his arms and touched the small pool of blood forming beneath him. His head bent, and his white gold hair tosselled, Ron saw for a moment a vision of a fallen angel, his wings broken. Then Draco lifted his head and started at Ron, blood dipping down his lips and forehead. The look in his eyes was anything but angelic.
He stood, and walked shaking, back to Ron. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and his lips, tremblingly.
"Hit me again Weasley."
Author: randiriel
Title: Bloody Fucking Hell
Word count: 1494
Rating: R for language.
Warning: This is un-beta’d, as I finished it at 4:15 in the morning, a pairing I can’t ever imagine happening, and my very first HP fandom fic. Comments and harsh criticism are welcome, even wanted. My email is Randiriel@livejournal.com. Thanks!
Ron ducked his head and made sure there was no one nearby to see him as he stepped into the small area of Knockturn Alley filled almost entirely with different sorts of whorehouses. He had no idea what he was thinking, being there...but he wasn’t sure what else to do. Getting shagged at Hogwarts was not going to happen. Not with a bloke anyway...
Hogwarts was a surprisingly narrow-minded school, when it came to homosexuality. At least where Slytherins were concerned. Honestly. It seemed as though all of their cruelty came right down to procreation. Muggles and fags were dealt with brutally, and were strictly off-limits for fucking. Ron couldn’t even remember how many times he’d seen the couple of students who were “out” come to class with broken arms and blackened eyes. And no matter how many times the Slytherins would beat the piss out of a gay student, no one would ever rat them out. It’d just end up even worse for them the next time.
This was Ron’s last day of summer vacation, just before his last term at Hogwarts, and what he considered to be his only chance left for getting laid before he was out of school forever. He’d put it off until now because...well, frankly, because he was ashamed, and angry with himself. It had taken him long enough to realize he was gay, he doubted he’d ever quite come to terms with it. Bill had married Fleur, Charlie and Fred had married nice women from nice wizarding families, and George was dating a very wealthy, very spunky Muggle-born girl...living up to family expectations just didn’t seem possible anymore.
Ron shook his head, realizing that he had been simply standing outside the brothel, thinking, while people came and went, looking at him strangely. Luckily no one had seemed to recognize him He took a deep breath and walked through the door.
The man behind the counter was tall, and lean, and... flamboyant. His shirt was green and see-through, his denim shorts were so tight Ron was amazed he’d been able to put them on, and was also sure that if the man were to turn around, he’d see far more arse than most people would bargain for. He appeared to be wearing make-up.
“Can I help you, doll?” He said, with an American accent.
“Er... I, uh....” Ron’s mind was an utter blank.
“You...what?” He smirked, as Ron cleared his throat, and interrupted before Ron could try to speak again. “You’re looking for a good time, obviously.”
Ron nodded.
“What’cha ya like? Tall? Dark? Blonde? Built? You a top or bottom? Or are you vanilla?”
Ron just stood there, and tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling as though the room was closing in on him. He had no idea what this guy was talking about. And why in Hecate’s name did they keep it so hot in here?
The man behind the counter chuckled. “It’s okay, sugar. We get a lot of virgins in here.”
“Bloody hell, am I that obvious?” Ron knew the answer to that. But at least this time he’d managed a fully formed sentence. The guy just chuckled again.
“Do you want it rough? We’ve got lots of pretty boys who specialize in whips, hot wax; you name it, baby, we’ve got it.”
Ron thought he might pass out.
Another chuckle.
“You’re cute. I think it’s safe to assume you’re vanilla. And...you want to tell someone what to do, or be told what to do?”
Ron had no idea what he was doing, but he figured, if he was paying, he might as well tell them what to do, right?
“Um...tell them?”
“Excellent! I’ll give you room number three. He’s gorgeous, and really gets off on being ordered around.”
“I...um...okay...” For crying out loud...wasn’t there any air in this building?
“Just head right up those steps, honey. Second door on the left.” He grinned and winked at Ron. “Have fun.”
****
Draco sighed as he the little glass ball on the nightstand next to the bed filled with green smoke. He had a customer. Hopefully this one wouldn’t be a sissy, like the last. He put down the book he’d been reading, undid the top button on his leather trousers, and posed, leaning against the dresser.
He’d better get a fucking tip this time, too. This was the only way he’d been able to make any decent money at all, since his mother had gone missing, and his father was rather...indisposed in Azkaban. He’d had no idea what to do about the family finances or manor, since he’d never been told how, or what to do in such an instance. He’d been ordered to do everything, since he could remember, and when it was all left to him he was completely lost. Last summer he’d fallen into prostitution after he’d let the solicitor fuck him in lieu of payment. He’d said Draco should be a professional whore...And here he was.
While most of him really wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, a small part of him wanted a really good fuck. One last shag before school started, and he had to go back to the arrogant, bossy, womanizing front his father had beat him into.
And then the door opened, shaking him out of his thoughts, and in walked...Merlin.
“Weasley?” Draco asked, incredulously, “Bloody fucking hell.”
Ron froze in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow. Draco was dumbfounded. And petrified. If his classmates were to find out about this...there was a good chance he wouldn’t live to see morning.
****
Ron looked at Malfoy, leaning against the dark, wooden dresser. This was not at all what he had expected. But, for some reason, he felt instantly more comfortable. He knew Malfoy. This was no longer a strange place, or having sex for the first time with some strange person. This was the arrogant bastard he’d hated for six years.
“Well, Malfoy...you’re not quite what I was expecting, either.”
“You won’t...tell anyone at school...will you?” Malfoy sounded surprisingly meek. Not at all the Draco he was used to.
“Right, because I want to be beaten to within an inch of my life because I was in a whorehouse full of fairies?”
Draco looked a bit less like a deer in the headlights.
Ron closed the door behind him and leaned on it, looking around. The room was full of dark, expensive wood furniture, a huge bed with a black velvet bedspread and wine colored satin sheets, and a large mirror on the ceiling. It probably cost more money to furnish this one room than it cost to decorate the entirety of the Burrow, but being in a brothel made it somewhat less impressive. Draco, still leaning against the dresser, wearing nothing but leather trousers with the top button undone, and what he could only describe as a “lost little boy” look on his face, however...that was an entirely different story. He was beginning to see Malfoy in an entirely different manner.
Ron raised an eyebrow at Malfoy.
“This room just screams ‘expensive fag whore’, Malfoy. I hope this isn’t how you usually decorate.”
Draco smirked at Ron then, seeming a bit more at ease. “Well, Weasley, it’s not exactly like you can hide your sexuality here.”
Ron just looked at Draco for a moment, and then pushed himself away from the door and started to slowly unbutton his shirt.
****
Draco was relieved when Weasley started to unbutton his shirt. He this situation was one he was familiar with. He stepped away from the dresser and closed the space between them, reaching for Ron’s collar. Ron’s eyes darkened for a moment, and Draco took that as a cue. He leaned in and ran his tongue along Weasley’s bottom lip.
Ron just stood there, still for half a second, and then suddenly he swung his arm away from himself, hitting Draco across the face hard enough to knock him onto the floor.
****
Ron looked down at Draco on the floor, looking almost like a fallen angel with his eyes averted, and his pale skin, his no-longer perfectly arranged blond hair, a small trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. Then he looked up at Ron, and the look in his eyes was anything but angelic. The hatred he had felt for Malfoy for the past six years was tightening in his chest, and a small tendril of lust was curling and pooling low in his stomach. He was disgusted at himself for enjoying Malfoy licking his lip the way he had...for the way that look was making him feel.
“I didn’t say you could touch me, Malfoy,” he said, coldly.
Draco stood and stepped, shaking slightly, close to Ron, standing close enough that Ron could feel the breath on his face from Draco’s trembling, slightly parted lips. Draco’s eyes were wide, and filled with a dark anticipation.
“Hit me again, Weasley.”