Fic: 'I Must Not Torment Trainees' RW/DM NC17
Title - I Must Not Torment Trainees
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - K, L, N and M - thanks, lovelies!
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1,800
Characters/Pairings - Ron/Draco
Warnings/Kinks - PWP; A little bit of rimming, bondage, and dirty talk; Blood-play; Auror!fic
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - Draco needs taking down a peg or two, and Ron's just the man for the job
Author's Notes - Written for icanhaspancake over at hp_porninthesun. Counts to prompt #2 Working of my mission_insane Themed Table: Saucy
"My office, Malfoy. Now."
Groaning, Draco stood up and followed after Ron. A late career change had pitted Draco against witches and wizards ten years his junior, and he'd had to fight every step of the way to finally be able to place a badge on his chest and begin work as a probationary Auror.
He'd been assigned to Ron Weasley, and sparks had flown from the moment they were in the same room together. Ron was clearly taking his revenge for the years Draco had spent tormenting him at school, and the irony of Ron being his superior was not lost on Draco.
Nothing about Ron was lost on Draco; not the freckles on his arms or the subtle golden tones that made up the red of his hair. Draco found himself falling into his old, familiar routines with Ron; desperately seeking Ron's approval. Just like he'd desperately sought his father's, desperately sought Severus', even desperately sought Potter's for a while.
The difference was, Ron's approval was forthcoming, even if it was hard-won. And from the look on Ron's face, Draco had just lost it again by tormenting some of the trainees.
The door to Ron's office slammed closed, and Draco felt the faint brush of Privacy charms. Clearly, Ron was going to bite his head off. Standing in front of Ron's desk, Draco clasped his hands behind his back and planted his feet shoulder-width apart, staring down at the floor and waiting for Ron to speak.
The thick carpet muffled sounds, and Draco jolted with surprise when Ron spoke and the words came from just behind Draco, not from Ron's desk as he'd expected them to.
"What are you playing at, tormenting the trainees?"
Gauging his options, Draco decided to play it cheeky and unrepentant. He knew from experience that Ron had no problem knocking him back into like, and he knew he wasn't the only one that enjoyed testing their boundaries. "Just doing what was done to me, Ron."
"You're still a probationary Auror, Malfoy," Ron was standing close enough now that Draco could feel the heat from his body, and he had to work hard not to lean back against Ron. "And it's Auror Weasley to you."
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
The last word came out on a threatening note, and Draco saw a line fast approaching. Checking his cheek for the moment, he responded quietly, "Yes, Auror Weasley."
"Better. Now, strip."
From anyone else, the command would have brought shock and outrage. But in their five months working together, they'd discovered an entirely new side to their relationship. Draco knew exactly what was coming, and he let go of his wrist, bringing his hands round to start undoing his clothes. Folding each garment up neatly, Draco shivered when he felt Ron's fingers ghost across his back. But when Ron took his arm, the touch was anything but ghosting; it was tight and firm, leading Draco unquestioningly over to the desk.
Ron settled in his chair, and Draco allowed himself to be moved into position, standing between Ron and the desk, facing the polished oak. A sheet of parchment and a quill appeared. The quill was jet black, and Draco recognised it immediately.
"Pick it up."
Picking up the quill, Draco felt the magic wash over him. His cock twitched, and he heard the whoosh of Ron's chair being lowered. Poising the quill over the parchment, Draco waited to be told what to write.
"I must not torment trainees."
Repeating the sentence under his breath, Draco pressed the tip of the quill against the parchment and began to write. The letters came out blood red in his neat script, but the first line didn't register on his skin. As he moved onto the second line, Draco felt the familiar aching tingle on his back, and grit his teeth against what was to come. With each line he wrote, the pain in his back became more pronounced, and Draco hissed as he felt his skin break.
Ron never made him write the same line often enough that it would scar permanently, but the marks would always last for a few days, in which time Draco was always prepared to be dragged into the nearest office or storage cupboard, so that Ron could admire the marks and fuck him raw.
Ron's hand slid between Draco's legs, stroking his cock softly as Draco felt the blood beading on his skin. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and Draco focused on the rapid beating of his heart as he moved onto the next line, shivering as the blood trickle down his back. The natural curve of his skin channelled the droplets, swept them to the centre of his back, and down his crack, an oddly ticklish sensation that made him exhale shakily.
When Ron's teeth sank into his left buttock, Draco yelped sharply, but he didn't stop writing. Over and over, Ron's teeth sank into his flesh, getting steadily nearer to Draco's entrance. Draco hardly dared to hope, just kept writing the lines and breathing through the pain, enjoying every sensation. Ron's hands flattened on his buttocks, pushing them apart, making Draco shiver when Ron blew a stream of cool air over his hole.
Draco could feel the blood trickling down from his back, and he bit down on his lip, his handwriting coming out jagged and messy as he waited for Ron to make his move.
When Ron's tongue swept over his hole, catching up the blood and tracing around the rim, Draco couldn't stop himself crying out. Over and over, Ron's tongue fluttered around his entrance, drenching the wrinkled skin in saliva, coaxing Draco into relaxation so that Ron's tongue could stab into his arse, a crude imitation of what was to come. It felt incredible, sweet pleasure in counterpoint to the sharp pain, and the quill fell from his hand as he pushed back into Ron, desperately trying to coax Ron's tongue further into him.
But Ron pulled back and, with a sharp slap to Draco's teeth-marked buttocks, growled, "Did I tell you to stop?"
Fumbling for the quill again, Draco had no chance to pick it up and resume writing. Ron stood up behind him and swung him neatly around, so that Draco had to fling his hands out to brace himself and not go face-first into the wall behind Ron's desk. As if under their own initiative, the candle brackets on the wall snaked forwards, wrapping around Draco's wrists and pulling his arms up above his head, holding him in place as he listened to Ron undo his trousers.
"I've always said, Malfoy, that you need taking down a peg or two."
Nodding his agreement, Draco pushed his arse out, hoping he could force Ron into him ahead of Ron's own time. But Ron was having none of it; his teeth sank into Draco's neck, a warning bite to remind Draco who was in charge here.
"Beg for it, Malfoy."
"Please!" Draco knew it wouldn't be good enough, but it was all part of the game. They both knew he would break down and beg, but to give it up straight away did neither of them any favours. Sucking in air, Draco tried to corral the blood that wasn't filling his cock out almost painfully up into his head, so that he could think straight. "Please, fuck me, Ron."
Another bite, this one almost breaking the skin, and Draco's coherence was shot all over again. He couldn't remember what he'd said, so couldn't work out where he'd gone wrong, but tried again with a note of desperation in his voice. "Please, Auror Weasley, fuck me."
"What are you?" Draco floundered for an appropriate answer, and Ron provided it with a gruff whisper. "My little slut, aren’t you?"
Colouring up, Draco's objections were stolen by the sensation of Ron's cock rubbing along his cleft. He listened to the wet slapping of Ron lubricating himself, and squeezed his eyes closed. "Your little slut," Draco whispered, pushing his arse back again, needing Ron more than he'd thought could be possible. Even though he knew there were privacy wards up, Draco pretended there weren't, pretended anyone could walk in and see them like this.
The head of Ron's cock pushed against his entrance, and Draco forced his body to relax. He could take Ron, had done it countless times before, but the first few minutes were always the hardest.
"I know what you want," Ron bit out, voice tense with concentration as he eased his cock into Draco's arse. "You want that door wide open. We'll see how mouthy you are when all the trainees can see you taking my cock like a good little whore."
Ron has the unerring ability to tap into the part of Draco's mind he thought was secret and safe, and display the contents with ease, highlighting every dirty little thought Draco had ever had, acting out some of them. Nodding, Draco dropped his forehead against the cool wall, gritting his teeth and riding out the burn as Ron came to rest inside him. "You could… open the door… let them see…"
Half-chuckling, half-grunting, Ron peppered bites along Draco's collarbone, answering between nips, "Maybe even let them have a go. See if you can torment the trainees when they're balls-deep in you."
That thought pushed Draco all the closer to orgasm, and he couldn't get the image out of his mind as Ron set up a fast, steady rhythm of thrusts. The door wide open. Anyone able to step in, to fuck him just like Ron was doing.
Fingers clawing at the wall, Draco pushed his arse back against Ron, leaning his neck into the nips and bites as his stomach cramped and his thighs trembled, his entire body breaking down under the orgasm that was building, feeling like it would never break. When Ron's hand closed around his dick, tugging upwards in short, sharp pulls, Draco toppled over the edge, crying out as he trembled and shook.
Sagging in the bonds, Draco opened his eyes and stared down at the white stains on the wall, at Ron's long fingers curled around his softening dick. He tensed his body, bearing Ron's weight when Ron sagged, cock twitching, against Draco's back.
Suddenly sleepy, and only half-remembering what had started off this dalliance, Draco turned his head around and smiled at Ron.
"What's the lesson?" Ron asked, his voice with a softer edge now, pressing kisses into the teeth marks on Draco's neck.
Grinning, and vowing to do exactly the same tomorrow, just for a repeat of this, Draco duly answered, "I must not torment trainees!"
Author - softly_sweetly
Beta - K, L, N and M - thanks, lovelies!
Rating - NC17
Word Count - ~1,800
Characters/Pairings - Ron/Draco
Warnings/Kinks - PWP; A little bit of rimming, bondage, and dirty talk; Blood-play; Auror!fic
Disclaimer - I own nothing but the plot lines. I make no money from this, and mean no offence by any scene depicted within this story. All characters depicted in sexual situations herein are above the age of consent.
Summary - Draco needs taking down a peg or two, and Ron's just the man for the job
Author's Notes - Written for icanhaspancake over at hp_porninthesun. Counts to prompt #2 Working of my mission_insane Themed Table: Saucy
"My office, Malfoy. Now."
Groaning, Draco stood up and followed after Ron. A late career change had pitted Draco against witches and wizards ten years his junior, and he'd had to fight every step of the way to finally be able to place a badge on his chest and begin work as a probationary Auror.
He'd been assigned to Ron Weasley, and sparks had flown from the moment they were in the same room together. Ron was clearly taking his revenge for the years Draco had spent tormenting him at school, and the irony of Ron being his superior was not lost on Draco.
Nothing about Ron was lost on Draco; not the freckles on his arms or the subtle golden tones that made up the red of his hair. Draco found himself falling into his old, familiar routines with Ron; desperately seeking Ron's approval. Just like he'd desperately sought his father's, desperately sought Severus', even desperately sought Potter's for a while.
The difference was, Ron's approval was forthcoming, even if it was hard-won. And from the look on Ron's face, Draco had just lost it again by tormenting some of the trainees.
The door to Ron's office slammed closed, and Draco felt the faint brush of Privacy charms. Clearly, Ron was going to bite his head off. Standing in front of Ron's desk, Draco clasped his hands behind his back and planted his feet shoulder-width apart, staring down at the floor and waiting for Ron to speak.
The thick carpet muffled sounds, and Draco jolted with surprise when Ron spoke and the words came from just behind Draco, not from Ron's desk as he'd expected them to.
"What are you playing at, tormenting the trainees?"
Gauging his options, Draco decided to play it cheeky and unrepentant. He knew from experience that Ron had no problem knocking him back into like, and he knew he wasn't the only one that enjoyed testing their boundaries. "Just doing what was done to me, Ron."
"You're still a probationary Auror, Malfoy," Ron was standing close enough now that Draco could feel the heat from his body, and he had to work hard not to lean back against Ron. "And it's Auror Weasley to you."
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
The last word came out on a threatening note, and Draco saw a line fast approaching. Checking his cheek for the moment, he responded quietly, "Yes, Auror Weasley."
"Better. Now, strip."
From anyone else, the command would have brought shock and outrage. But in their five months working together, they'd discovered an entirely new side to their relationship. Draco knew exactly what was coming, and he let go of his wrist, bringing his hands round to start undoing his clothes. Folding each garment up neatly, Draco shivered when he felt Ron's fingers ghost across his back. But when Ron took his arm, the touch was anything but ghosting; it was tight and firm, leading Draco unquestioningly over to the desk.
Ron settled in his chair, and Draco allowed himself to be moved into position, standing between Ron and the desk, facing the polished oak. A sheet of parchment and a quill appeared. The quill was jet black, and Draco recognised it immediately.
"Pick it up."
Picking up the quill, Draco felt the magic wash over him. His cock twitched, and he heard the whoosh of Ron's chair being lowered. Poising the quill over the parchment, Draco waited to be told what to write.
"I must not torment trainees."
Repeating the sentence under his breath, Draco pressed the tip of the quill against the parchment and began to write. The letters came out blood red in his neat script, but the first line didn't register on his skin. As he moved onto the second line, Draco felt the familiar aching tingle on his back, and grit his teeth against what was to come. With each line he wrote, the pain in his back became more pronounced, and Draco hissed as he felt his skin break.
Ron never made him write the same line often enough that it would scar permanently, but the marks would always last for a few days, in which time Draco was always prepared to be dragged into the nearest office or storage cupboard, so that Ron could admire the marks and fuck him raw.
Ron's hand slid between Draco's legs, stroking his cock softly as Draco felt the blood beading on his skin. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and Draco focused on the rapid beating of his heart as he moved onto the next line, shivering as the blood trickle down his back. The natural curve of his skin channelled the droplets, swept them to the centre of his back, and down his crack, an oddly ticklish sensation that made him exhale shakily.
When Ron's teeth sank into his left buttock, Draco yelped sharply, but he didn't stop writing. Over and over, Ron's teeth sank into his flesh, getting steadily nearer to Draco's entrance. Draco hardly dared to hope, just kept writing the lines and breathing through the pain, enjoying every sensation. Ron's hands flattened on his buttocks, pushing them apart, making Draco shiver when Ron blew a stream of cool air over his hole.
Draco could feel the blood trickling down from his back, and he bit down on his lip, his handwriting coming out jagged and messy as he waited for Ron to make his move.
When Ron's tongue swept over his hole, catching up the blood and tracing around the rim, Draco couldn't stop himself crying out. Over and over, Ron's tongue fluttered around his entrance, drenching the wrinkled skin in saliva, coaxing Draco into relaxation so that Ron's tongue could stab into his arse, a crude imitation of what was to come. It felt incredible, sweet pleasure in counterpoint to the sharp pain, and the quill fell from his hand as he pushed back into Ron, desperately trying to coax Ron's tongue further into him.
But Ron pulled back and, with a sharp slap to Draco's teeth-marked buttocks, growled, "Did I tell you to stop?"
Fumbling for the quill again, Draco had no chance to pick it up and resume writing. Ron stood up behind him and swung him neatly around, so that Draco had to fling his hands out to brace himself and not go face-first into the wall behind Ron's desk. As if under their own initiative, the candle brackets on the wall snaked forwards, wrapping around Draco's wrists and pulling his arms up above his head, holding him in place as he listened to Ron undo his trousers.
"I've always said, Malfoy, that you need taking down a peg or two."
Nodding his agreement, Draco pushed his arse out, hoping he could force Ron into him ahead of Ron's own time. But Ron was having none of it; his teeth sank into Draco's neck, a warning bite to remind Draco who was in charge here.
"Beg for it, Malfoy."
"Please!" Draco knew it wouldn't be good enough, but it was all part of the game. They both knew he would break down and beg, but to give it up straight away did neither of them any favours. Sucking in air, Draco tried to corral the blood that wasn't filling his cock out almost painfully up into his head, so that he could think straight. "Please, fuck me, Ron."
Another bite, this one almost breaking the skin, and Draco's coherence was shot all over again. He couldn't remember what he'd said, so couldn't work out where he'd gone wrong, but tried again with a note of desperation in his voice. "Please, Auror Weasley, fuck me."
"What are you?" Draco floundered for an appropriate answer, and Ron provided it with a gruff whisper. "My little slut, aren’t you?"
Colouring up, Draco's objections were stolen by the sensation of Ron's cock rubbing along his cleft. He listened to the wet slapping of Ron lubricating himself, and squeezed his eyes closed. "Your little slut," Draco whispered, pushing his arse back again, needing Ron more than he'd thought could be possible. Even though he knew there were privacy wards up, Draco pretended there weren't, pretended anyone could walk in and see them like this.
The head of Ron's cock pushed against his entrance, and Draco forced his body to relax. He could take Ron, had done it countless times before, but the first few minutes were always the hardest.
"I know what you want," Ron bit out, voice tense with concentration as he eased his cock into Draco's arse. "You want that door wide open. We'll see how mouthy you are when all the trainees can see you taking my cock like a good little whore."
Ron has the unerring ability to tap into the part of Draco's mind he thought was secret and safe, and display the contents with ease, highlighting every dirty little thought Draco had ever had, acting out some of them. Nodding, Draco dropped his forehead against the cool wall, gritting his teeth and riding out the burn as Ron came to rest inside him. "You could… open the door… let them see…"
Half-chuckling, half-grunting, Ron peppered bites along Draco's collarbone, answering between nips, "Maybe even let them have a go. See if you can torment the trainees when they're balls-deep in you."
That thought pushed Draco all the closer to orgasm, and he couldn't get the image out of his mind as Ron set up a fast, steady rhythm of thrusts. The door wide open. Anyone able to step in, to fuck him just like Ron was doing.
Fingers clawing at the wall, Draco pushed his arse back against Ron, leaning his neck into the nips and bites as his stomach cramped and his thighs trembled, his entire body breaking down under the orgasm that was building, feeling like it would never break. When Ron's hand closed around his dick, tugging upwards in short, sharp pulls, Draco toppled over the edge, crying out as he trembled and shook.
Sagging in the bonds, Draco opened his eyes and stared down at the white stains on the wall, at Ron's long fingers curled around his softening dick. He tensed his body, bearing Ron's weight when Ron sagged, cock twitching, against Draco's back.
Suddenly sleepy, and only half-remembering what had started off this dalliance, Draco turned his head around and smiled at Ron.
"What's the lesson?" Ron asked, his voice with a softer edge now, pressing kisses into the teeth marks on Draco's neck.
Grinning, and vowing to do exactly the same tomorrow, just for a repeat of this, Draco duly answered, "I must not torment trainees!"