Title: Fairy Cake Felicity
Author: EntreNous (entrenous88)
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Phallophilia
Other Warnings: None. Despite the subject matter, none of the pairing smut actually involves food.
Word Count: 7,650
Summary/Description: Ron's obsession with cocks becomes manifest in some surprisingly profitable ways.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to the mods at daily_deviant for their patience. I wrote this for the kink phallophilia ("attraction to large penises or fetishization of penises"); note the title's pun (hurr hurr!). This is also written for r_grayjoy, who a while ago prompted me to write some snarky Ron/Draco. I hope she, and all of you, are fond of cake (and cocks)!



Ron stared glumly at the items spread on the table before him. He was half-tempted to give the entire lot a mighty shove, sending them to the floor.

Instead he snatched up a single fairy cake and vengefully smeared it with icing.

The lilt of Fleur's voice wafted in from outside, where she and Bill together played host to a crowd of snotty children and their hovering parents, all of them gathered for Victoire's third birthday party.

Ron swiped the back of his arm across his sweaty forehead and scowled at a second cake before grabbing it and piling it with icing. He hadn't paid much attention when his mother had lectured him on the theme, something about worms or butterflies or caterpillars. He reckoned it didn't make much difference as long as they were blobby bits of icing that looked vaguely like bugs.

A shout of laughter outside made him glare at the window. It wasn't that he wanted to spend the day with shrieking toddlers and their parents, but at least if he were in the garden he might feel a breeze. But no, he was stuck alone in the hot kitchen, perspiring not just from the work of decorating dozens upon dozens of fairy cakes but also from the awful combination of the summer's heat and warmth from the oven that had only just been turned off.

He almost couldn't blame everyone for leaving him inside with his sugary task, though he did blame them for not even offering to stay. Harry and Ginny hadn't once said they'd help when Ron's mum stuck him with the nearly forgotten task of decorating the fairy cakes. Harry had muttered something about "good luck, mate," just before Ginny had grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. No doubt the two of them had sneaked off to snog in some shady corner, Ron thought sourly as he swirled the sweet icing higher.

No, no one cared that he was abandoned in the steamy kitchen all by himself. George and Angelina hadn't cast a glance his way before heading past him to chat with friends at the party; Percy was parading his new girlfriend around the crowd; and even Lee Jordan had come paired with his fiancée, both of them laughing and blushing over the swell starting to show in her belly.

Everyone there was busy with someone else, that was for certain, Ron thought as he stabbed a sugared decoration into the centre of one tiny cake. Oh, he could have brought someone to a party like this, obviously. Then he would have avoided getting assigned to set up chairs or to fold the prinked paper serviettes only because he looked as if he had nothing better to do.

But the fact that the someone he would choose to bring would be a bloke instead of a bird rather complicated matters. Just the thought of the difficulties it would cause made him pipe out an extra long blob of icing with a wide splotch at its head by way of expressing his frustration.

He didn't much feel like explaining and justifying to his bewildered father and placating his teary-eyed mum if he brought a man home rather than a woman, especially not when he would have to do so to the accompaniment of Percy's offended sniffing and George's boisterous joking. It would have been better to devote all his thoughts to dragons like Charlie. Bad enough he wouldn't be contributing to the passel of grandchildren his parents were counting on, but bring home a man instead of a girlfriend, that would be far worse.

Who would Ron have asked, anyway, though, even if he had the nerve? The sandy-haired skinny fellow who worked at Eeylops Owl Emporium, who came round to the Wheezes whenever George stepped out to lunch, stammering and trying to chat up Ron in the most awkward way imaginable? Or the tall blond bloke who often lingered around Ron at The Leaky Cauldron on Fridays, casting him looks that made Ron shift about on his seat uncomfortably, and nodding at the door like Ron was supposed to follow without even knowing the bloke's name?

Even Harry didn't know Ron's secret yet, though Ron reckoned he would have to tell him soon. Thankfully Harry had been so wrapped up in Ginny lately he hadn't noticed Ron had avoided the subject of girls since things had ended with Hermione.

If Hermione heard him talk about his dilemma, she most likely would have pronounced that his problem introducing a man to his family actually stemmed from his own deficiencies with meeting men in the first place. "It's not them," he could almost hear Hermione saying in that half-affectionate, half-exasperated manner. "It's you."

Ron grit his teeth and kept on decorating the sweets the group of whiny toddlers outside wouldn't so much as glance at before stuffing them into their greedy little mouths. He wielded the spatula viciously, slathering cakes before piping on the decorations, ending each long globule with an emphatic punctuation of icing.

He levitated another set of fairy cakes to the table in front of him, swearing when he realized he had mucked up his wand with the icing remnants in the bowl before him. After wiping his wand off on his jeans and charming the whisk to start in on another bowl of sugar and butter creaming for icing, he sighed. It had been horrible breaking up with Hermione, because part of him really did love her. She and Harry, they were the only ones he had ever been able to see as part of his life in the years to come. He could still picture it, him with Hermione, living together, marrying, and doing what everyone expected of them.

It had gone well at first, when he had been utterly amazed that Hermione wanted to be with him and she flushed with happiness every time he so much as looked her way. But after too many confused looks and stilted conversations about why they never did anything else besides a bit of snogging -- well, you just couldn't say to a person, "I think you're fantastic, and I'd want you round always if it weren't for the fact you've just got the wrong bits to get me hard."

He winced as he built up more icing and shaped some or other elongated blob of decoration. Oh, she'd been angry at first when he had broken things off with little explanation, and then impatient and frustrated when their continued conversations about matters brought no real answers. But after a while she had accepted he really was sorry about how it had turned out. In the end she had said they could still be friends. Of course it was hard to be friends when his family still expected them to announce their engagement any day; they had privately agreed at the start it was best Hermione didn't come to all the family gatherings anymore, not when his brothers' hinting and teasing made him uncomfortable and her miserable.

Eventually everyone stopped assuming he and Hermione would have some kind of double wedding with Harry and Ginny. Harry still brought the subject up every so often in a round about way, not the wedding bit but the Ron and Hermione together bit, wondering how things had gone wrong between them when they had seemed to care for each other. But Harry had never been one to press, and gradually even he stopped his careful questions.

Ginny outright told Ron he was a beast for the way he'd treated Hermione, particularly when Hermione was still crying on her shoulder. But she didn't question Ron why things had ended, just blamed him for anything bad that had come of it, like Hermione eventually taking an apprenticeship in Wales away from Ron and all of them so she could move on with her life.

Amid the dust cloud of sugar settling around him, along with the flick-flick-flick of the whisk and the gentle thuds of another batch of cakes charmed to float over to him to get the same decorating treatment, Ron exhaled with no small amount of irritation. It wasn't fair, any of it: Hermione having the wrong bits, him liking the wrong bits, the stammering shy boys and the intimidating confident ones, or the expectation he would marry like the rest of his family and friends.

It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, but he couldn't help the way he was. He just liked cock. He hadn't had the chance to do much with anyone's cock aside from his own of course, and besides staring at and wanking to pictures in magazines. But even so he couldn't escape the fact that what he wanted, more than a normal life, more than being settled with one of his best friends who loved him, was cock.

All of it, being consigned to the kitchen, feeling completely confused about how to get a proper date (or even an improper one, which Ron reckoned would be good enough for now), all of it because he just couldn't help that he liked cock. He squeezed the bag of icing and spurted out another thick line, capping it with a tapered blob to finish.

Behind him, someone inhaled sharply and then choked. " What are you, mental? You can't serve those to kids!"

"Why not?" Ron snapped, turning round to face Bill. "I've iced all the cakes, just like mum said!"

"Because! You've gone and -- I mean -- look!"

"Les gâteaux, they are ready?" Fleur inquired in her musical voice, arriving at Bill's side.

"Yeah, they're ready," Ron grumbled, wiping his sugary hands down the front of his t-shirt. "What?" he asked Bill, who seemed transfixed by the fairy cakes on the table.

Fleur gazed at Bill, and then looked at the table. Her eyes widened. Then she snorted. "Very lifelike, n'est-ce pas?"

"What are you on about?" Ron asked the two of them, unable to keep the aggravation from his voice.

It was only when Fleur picked up a cake and drew her finger teasingly along the iced decoration that Ron looked, really looked, and realized he'd decorated a good half of the fairy cakes, not with the cunning little bugs and butterflies his mum had instructed, but with cocks.

He'd decorated most of them, in fact, with cocks: some cocks and bollocks, some cocks that were short and squat; some erections, thick and hard looking; some slim and rosy coloured, hanging low coyly. A few of them had somehow animated, maybe when Ron had been flicking his wand wildly to get the cakes to float through the air. As he stared at them in horror, he could see a few of the members twitching or swelling on their cake beds, almost as though they quite liked the attention. One, after curling upward, actually burst out a little stream of icing from its tip.

"Now then, how are we coming along?" a brisk voice called from the next room.

"Mon dieu," Fleur exclaimed under her breath, but her expression was mischievous as she covered her mouth with her hand.

Ron held his head, feeling it start to ache already. "Oh, for Merlin's floppy --"

"Now you're in for it," Bill interrupted, his right eyebrow raised.

Molly Weasley came bustling into the kitchen, and shook her head at them. "Why are you all standing around? We've guests to look after, punch to serve, and fairy cakes to --" Then she too stopped and looked, looked at the rows and rows of frosted cocks on the cakes meant for her granddaughter's birthday party.

"I just wasn't," Ron started desperately. "I wasn't thinking, I --"

"Oh my," Molly murmured. And then she promptly burst into laughter.



*~*



Ron's obscene cock-cakes were the hit of Victoire's birthday party.

After his mum laughed so hard that she had to wipe tears from her eyes with her apron front ("Oh, don't look like that," she scolded both Ron and Bill as they stared, jaws dropped. "Surely you never thought I hadn't seen one before -- obviously I've seen all of yours, many a time!"), she took a far more pragmatic approach than Ron might have imagined.

"Well, the adults have to eat some as well! These will do for them. We'll just tell say they ought to come inside to get theirs. We can't lay them out on the tables outside, or we'd have the children running around with these -- these --" (and here she and Fleur laughed helplessly together, even clutching each other as they cackled).

"But I don't want anyone to eat these," Ron said desperately as his mum waved him off and hurried outside to send in the parents.

"You should have thought of that before you made so many of them," Bill pointed out.

"Fine, then, you have one," Ron retorted, thrusting one of the cock cakes out at Bill.

Bill stared at the one Ron had shoved at him, a smooth looking pink cock that curved slightly to the right and swelled and ebbed in size slightly, as though it were breathing atop its cake. "I think I'll leave them for the ladies," he said at last, taking the cake gingerly from Ron and handing it to Fleur.

And the ladies were the ones who exclaimed over the cakes most enthusiastically, partaking of them with great gusto. A few of the men ate them, but for the most part they reacted as Bill had when faced with the obscene fairy cakes: raised eyebrows, choking sounds, and refusing the cakes outright.

"No thank you," Percy had said primly when Fleur tried to hand him one. "The idea," he said under his breath, glaring at Ron. "At a gathering for children!"

"Oh, I'll have one," his date Penelope had offered, reaching over to pick out one of the larger, hairier-looking cock cakes, causing Percy's neck to flush a dull red.

Eventually even Harry and Ginny had sampled them when they turned up from wherever they had gone off to, Ginny with an odd look at Ron before taking her cake outside, Harry grabbing one and beginning to eat it right there in the kitchen before he had examined it properly. Admittedly, the warmth from the kitchen at that point had made some of the cocks begin to wilt and flop off their cakes, so even had Harry taken a careful look at his fairy cake he might not have realized its shape or significance.

"You know, there was a cock on that," George said helpfully just as Harry had swallowed his first mouthful. George had been absolutely delighted with Ron's cock cakes, and had remained in the kitchen despite the sweltering temperature so he could observe everyone's reactions to them.

Harry went pale. "A -- an actual -- on this?" He held the cake away.

"No, no, a sugared one," Ron interjected desperately. "Iced, and -- for decoration," he added in a weak voice. Granted, he had imagined talking to Harry about the matter of his attraction to men soon, but he hadn't pictured it happening in this way at all.

Harry examined what remained of his fairy cake. "Doesn't look like one now. Looks mostly blobby at this point," he observed finally before polishing the rest of it off.

So Ron didn't have to explain to Harry after all, at least not that day. In point of fact, he didn't have to explain to a soul. No one asked why Ron had gone and decorated so many of the cakes with cocks. They joked, they laughed, they lowered their voices and told ribald stories as the women ate the cakes, licking the icing from their fingers and gobbling them down to the last crumbs. But no one asked Ron about the cocks.

To be perfectly fair, the guests might not have been able to ask Ron about the cocks properly, because he dashed away whenever they started complimenting him on how clever the erections were. He made a good job of avoiding the issue, too, at least until Angelina cornered him while he was skulking around the punch table outside.

"About your fairy cakes," she began.

He looked behind him, but she had caught him up against a thick section of shrubbery, and there was no obvious escape. "I'm not -- just because -- they don't mean anything," Ron had retorted.

She blinked as if she were confused.

"The cocks," he said weakly, in case she had forgotten what they were speaking about.

"Right. Well, Katie Bell's hen night is Saturday next. I'm her maid of honor, so I thought I might hire you to make a set of cakes for our party."

Ron opened and closed his mouth. "Just -- decorated, with flowers or ladybirds, or --"

"No, no, with cocks, like the ones you did today," she said quickly.

Ron tried to answer, but when he opened his mouth only a dull squeak came out.

"I'll pay you for materials and your labour, of course," she added. "And for the novelty of them, as I've not seen a Wizarding bakery that makes anything like this. I suppose someone could get something like this at a Muggle shop, but not ones like yours, that move or pulse or --"

"Right, then, I suppose --" Ron interrupted in a rush. And here Ron blurted out what seemed to him an astronomical sum for a batch of fairy cakes.

"I'll send the galleons round to you tomorrow by owl," Angelina agreed at once. "Just have the cakes ready by Saturday afternoon. Here's the address to deliver them."

"Yeah, all right," he said, half dazed.

She walked away, leaving Ron staring at the scrap of parchment she had given him.

George had sidled up and peered over his shoulder before Ron could realize what he was about. "Sounds profitable. One hen night leads to another, after all. So you'll need some time off if you're going to start a business," he said thoughtfully while Ron held his breath. "I might be persuaded to invest," he added.

"Yeah?" Ron asked in shock.

"'Course! We're brothers, aren't we?" Suddenly George grinned widely. "And if it weren't for you and your decorating predilections, I would never have guessed there might be a huge untapped market for cock cakes!"



*~*



Katie Bell's hen night went very well thanks to Ron's cakes, and George turned out to be right about one hen night leading to another. Before Ron knew it, he was up to his neck in orders for more cock cakes and actually looking for space in a side alley to Diagon Alley to set up shop.

He planned to call it Ron's Cakes or something similarly inoffensive. But somehow he ended up with the gift of a sign from George proclaiming, Ron's Erotic Yummies: For Your Hob Nobs With Knobs! before he could veto it.

A month passed, and then two, and Ron had to hire two assistants to keep up with orders, young women just out of Hogwarts who seemed to take the business of making cock cakes very seriously. They left the decorating to him; the customers seemed to want his cocks particularly (though it made Ron's cheeks burn red when customers told him so). But one of the women, Lucy, was a dab hand at creating moulds, and she made cock-shaped moulds for larger cakes based on Ron's decorations and sketches. The other, Kat, did amazing work with dyes and sugars, so that they could turn out cock cakes and fairy cock cakes striped in blue or puce or decorated with rainbows and sparkles, whatever the customer requested. The cakes were wildly popular, and between the three of them, they could barely stay on top of all the cocks they had to fashion.

In his little time off, Ron sometimes grabbed a pint with Harry or had dinner with his family, but aside from congratulating him on his success, no one put the obvious question Ron kept expecting: why would he choose to spend his whole day looking at cocks (only iced ones, unfortunately; there had been next to no time to meet men with actual cocks, though Ron still felt unsure how he was supposed to do so, particularly with how busy he had been).

Soon business was booming. Ron had no idea there were so many hen nights in the Wizarding World in London and the outlying areas, but he soon enough learned some of the groups of women ordering his cakes wanted them for birthdays as well, or retirement parties, or other occasions where, as one patron put it to his chagrin, "It would just be brilliant to have one of your cocks there!"

He liked the decorating and baking far more than he would have thought, and he enjoyed having his own business at last and making galleons. But all the developments happened so quickly that Ron hadn't time to relax, much less reflect about the dilemmas and issues that had brought him down the path of making a business out of sweets featuring knobs.

He did have a moment that gave him pause, however, when, just as he was closing one night after a particularly busy day of taking orders and turning out cakes, a customer pushed inside and quickly shut the door tight.

"Ron's Erotic Yummies, what can I -- Zabini?" he asked in shock.

"Interesting establishment you have here, Weasley," Blaise Zabini said in a low voice. He glanced outside the window, verifying that there was no one passing outside before stepping closer and leaning over the counter. "I wondered if I might put in an order."

"You?" Ron asked stupidly. His entire custom was built on women ordering the cakes, and between his patrons and his assistants, nearly all of his time that wasn't spent icing or piping cocks was spent around women. Blaise was his very first male customer.

Blaise drew back with a sneer. "Look, if you don't want my business --"

"I want it," Ron said quickly, and then felt his ears burn as he heard himself.

"Then take down this order, and be quick about it."

When Ron had worked out the details for the order to be ready two nights hence, and accepted Blaise's purse of galleons (one of Ron's largest orders yet, and paid all in advance), he almost let the other man leave without another word. But just as Blaise was at the door he called, "If I might-- how did you hear about, er --"

"Millie's hen party," Blaise answered after a brief pause. "Sometimes they invite men," he added irritably when Ron just stared.

"Millie -- Millicent Bulstrode is getting married?"

"To Nick Angier," Blaise said, his lips quirking in amusement.

"The Irish National Quidditch player?" Ron asked. "But he's -- I mean --"

"Gorgeous? I know." Blaise made a moue of annoyance. "Why does it seem like all the really handsome ones are straight?"

"I know," Ron agreed without thinking, remembering the photographs he'd kept of Angier in one of the select collections of Quidditch players he sometimes wanked to.

"Do you?" asked Blaise with keen interest. His gaze flickered over Ron. "I would have thought so, and in fact, I've said as much. But aside from your little business here, we haven't seen you with anyone that would make us think --" He stopped.

"What do you mean? Who hasn't seen me?" Ron asked. He had never before that evening considered much about Blaise, and certainly hadn't thought he was gay. The idea that there were other gay wizards who didn't just nod at doors or hint awkwardly at the vague possibility of dating -- gay wizards who knew one another and spoke about who else might be gay -- sent an buzz along the back of his neck.

"Oh, never mind that. We're finished, yes?" With a quick nod, Blaise slipped out the door, leaving Ron with nothing but questions (and the payment for an extremely large order of fairy cock cakes).



*~*



The next day, Ron at times found himself adding ingredients that didn't belong to a mix or leaving out key items from his standard recipes. He couldn't stop wondering who Blaise had been talking about the evening before, speculating for what occasion Blaise had ordered so many cakes, and getting hard picturing random handsome wizards exclaiming over and eating his cock cakes, their eyes closed in bliss as their pink tongues lapped up the icing.

Finally Kat took a good look at the shoddy work he was doing, and shouldered him aside, sending him in her place to the front to greet patrons while she dealt with the orders he had botched.

He managed to get his head in order the next day, but a few days later Lucy Flooed to say she couldn't make it in. And so Ron again found himself at the front while Kat worked on the baking in back. It was a slow afternoon, a first, and Ron found himself scratching out new sketches on the order pad to pass the time.

"I'll just take one of your cakes," a haughty voice bit out.

Ron made as if to cover his sketch, and then sighed, remembering anyone who saw him staring at pictures of cocks in the bakery would only think he was working on his fledgling business.

He finally looked up. "We make them to order only at present -- wait, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy tipped his sharp chin up and narrowed his eyes. "That's no way to run a business, if you can't accommodate walk-in clientele."

"Hang on," Ron said, holding his hand up. He decided to bypass the part where Malfoy was offering admittedly intriguing business advice and instead asked, "You want one of my cakes?"

"Fine, I'll order one if that's the only way you do things as of yet," Malfoy said with disdain.

"You weren't by chance at some kind of -- where did you --" Ron began, trying to picture Malfoy among the random wizards at Blaise's party. Oddly, he could suddenly see in his mind Draco's soft, pink tongue, flickering out to trace along the outline of the cock Ron himself had piped on the fairy cake he held in his elegant hand --

"I'll take one just like that," Malfoy interrupted, pointing to a photograph on the wall.

Ron stared. It was one of the more realistic looking larger cock cakes they offered. "Is this going to a venue or a residence for an event?"

"No, it's just for me," Draco shot back, and then for some reason flushed pink. "Look, just deliver it by tonight."

He turned on his heel after slapping galleons down on the counter, before Ron could object that there wasn't enough notice for an order needing to be ready that night or even before he could refuse Malfoy's order on principle. Of course, it might have been hard to reject the order when just having Draco in the shop had somehow made him so hard he couldn't help but whimper. Without thinking, he craned his neck to watch Draco stalk away outside the windows.

"Up for icing?" Lucy inquired, sticking her head out of the door to the back. "I've finished all the baking, and a number of the larger cakes are cooled already."

"Yeah, all right -- wait," he blurted as she began to draw back. "Could you mix and bake a Number 15 for me?"

She sighed, but retied the apron she had been in the process of undoing. "New order?"

"Yeah." He tried to turn away quickly, but she caught a glance at his trousers and sniggered.

"Must have been some order," she commented merrily before heading back.

Ron made a noncommittal sound and stood behind the till so no one would see his ridiculous erection. He really needed to get out and meet some of those gay wizards if the thought of Draco Malfoy's tongue (and the sight of him striding away) got him in this state.

He did his best to ignore the fact that Blaise, even with his mildly interested once-over of Ron, hadn't elicited anywhere near the same reaction as Draco had with his snippy orders and superior attitude.



*~*



Ron decorated Draco's cake almost by rote; at this point, he was so accustomed to crafting his creations that he could make them without much thought. It was just as well, as he spent most of the time after he had already closed the doors and Lucy had long gone home trying not to think, because otherwise he could only return to imagining why Draco might want one of his cakes.

Though Ron's talents for sugary cocks on cakes had been borne of his own sexual frustration, he had never thought much about icing or crumbs in a sexual way. Yet somehow he got the oddest vision of Draco rolling around on a large bed, sticky with crumbs and sweet glaze from Ron's cake, dipping his finger in the mess and licking it off --

It was only that Ron needed to gather his courage and find a way to meet some gay wizards, he kept telling himself. There was no other explanation for him picturing sensual scenes featuring Draco Malfoy, of all people, who had acted like a knob for as long as Ron had known him.

He was glad at last to package the cake and send it off with one of their most careful carrier owls that they kept in a spacious covered pen in their alley outside. It would do him good to think of something else aside from Draco, and use his confusion at the whole incident to encourage himself to get out more.



*~*



The next day, Ron charged into the shop ready to take on a stack of orders, planning to immerse himself in work to clear his head. But Kat greeted him with not with her usual cheerful wave, but with a cake box that looked as if it had been dropped from a great height.

"A return?" Ron asked with surprise.

She shrugged. "Says it was damaged when it arrived. They even included a photograph."

Ron took the envelope she handed him and examined the picture inside. The first thing he saw was one of Draco's elegant hands opening the smashed cake box and then recoiling from the mess of the cake inside.

Look, Weasley,

(read the note folded inside the envelope:)

While I realize we are not on anything approaching friendly terms, I would have thought you would run a business with greater care!

I'm astounded that you delivered such shoddy work -- was it on purpose, some juvenile attempt at upsetting me when I had done nothing but support your shop with an order?

Either way, I plan on sending a letter of complaint about your business to The Prophet unless you replace the cake at once. It is the least you can do to remedy the situation.

~ D. Malfoy

Ron looked up, his eyes wide.

"I know," Kat said, shaking her head. "The owls have never botched an order before. I can't understand what happened."

He stormed into the back as she called after him, "I baked his order over again as soon as I read his note, so it should be ready for you to decorate soon enough!"

Ron scowled at the cooling cake on the table, lined up next to the pans and ingredients for the rest of the day's orders. He would see to it that Draco Malfoy got the most carefully decorated cock cake Ron had ever created.



*~*



The following morning, Ron trudged inside and saw Kat and Lucy conferring together at the front of the shop.

"What's gone wrong?" he asked with a sinking feeling as they turned to him with grave expressions.

"He's sent it back again," Lucy said, showing Ron the box sitting on the counter.

"Actually, he brought it back himself," Kat noted, lifting the lid to display its contents.

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Ron yelled, pointing at the unperturbed and perfectly decorated cake within. The iced cock inside was still nestled in its wrappings, flushing briefly as it was charmed to do whenever anyone looked at it for more than a moment.

"I know," Kat said impatiently. "But he says with such a terrible mistake the day before, he ought to have been given a hand-delivered cake as replacement, and he won't accept anything less."

"You're joking!"

"I wish I was. He turned up when we came to unlock the shop this morning, ranting about how unprofessional we were, how he knew people in the Ministry who approved businesses' permits and that he would be more than happy to inform them of our negligence --"

Ron groaned. "We'll have to bring it to him in person, then." He looked up hopefully. "Don't suppose one of you could --?"

"Absolutely not," Lucy said at the same time as Kat responded, "Not likely!"

"Not after the way he railed at us this morning," Lucy added.

"Really, you ought to give us extra wages on account of the distress," Kat put in.

He scowled at them, but they only folded their arms and stared back. "All right, I'll do it myself," he exclaimed, pushing past them to get to the back room.

Ron had not iced a cake with such aggravation since the day of Victoire's birthday party. But after dispatching the other orders that had to be completed that day, he spent the rest of his time in a kind of focused rage, swirling and detailing the cock on Draco's cake.

His irritation somehow made him work with greater flourish and painstaking detail, not just recreating the cake in the photograph that Draco had chosen, but adding extra features to make the cock look tantalizingly hard, to give the impression of how soft the skin would be were it real, to provide the sense that a fingertip or tongue touched to it would make it harden even more as it lay tumescent on its iced base.

Even as he concentrated intently on his work, he couldn't shake the sense that Draco had orchestrated all of this ordering and returning and replacing and delivering just to make Ron look the fool. Well, Ron would deliver a cake that would make Draco speechless at its cock's painstaking execution. Then Ron could forget all about Draco Malfoy and his nonsense, and figure out how to meet a man who wouldn't turn up his chin or roll his grey eyes at him.

Finally, with a curt nod for Lucy and Kat (who were utterly unrepentant as they waved at his departure), he left for the alley and Apparated to the address Draco had supplied.



*~*



Though Ron expected a house elf to come to the door of an ostentatious mansion, he instead found Draco himself opening the door to a large but otherwise normal looking home. His face briefly changed from its cast of snooty coldness when he saw Ron, but the expression that flickered across went too quickly for Ron to identify it. Then once again Draco looked imperious and contemptuous as he stared at Ron standing before his threshold.

"Have you made up for your errors?" Draco asked, his lips pursed.

In answer, Ron thrust the box out at him.

"Bring it along," Draco ordered, stepping inside.

"What, you can't take it yourself?" Ron muttered. Nonetheless, he followed Draco as he walked inside.

Draco led him to a surprisingly snug looking sitting room, and pointed at a table. "Just there."

Ron sighed and set the box down.

"Take it out," Draco commanded with a sneer. "You can't expect guests will want to lift up a common cardboard box lid; it should be properly displayed."

Ron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from retorting. "On the table, or have you a plate?"

"Wait here." Draco disappeared around the corner.

Ron sighed, hefting the box in his hands as he glanced around the room. It didn't seem decorated for a gathering of any kind. He frowned, remembering Draco's initial visit to his shop.

"The platter," Draco said shortly as he re-entered, pushing it toward Ron and almost making him drop the cake box. He managed to juggle the two without an accident, though, and finally had the cake set up on its serving dish.

"There, all set up for your guests," Ron commented coolly.

"Very well." Draco's lips parted, but then he pressed them together again. He seemed almost troubled, as though he had something to say but didn't know how to articulate it.

"I imagine they'll be coming soon," Ron continued.

"Who? Oh. Yes." Draco drew himself up and frowned. "As I'm having company, you should leave."

"I thought you said this cake was just for you?" Ron asked.

Draco's eyes widened. "What do you --"

"Back at the shop, when you first ordered it. And if it was for guests, I can't imagine they would come back to your home two nights in a row after you sent the cakes back to us."

Draco sputtered, "It's really not your place to make assumptions --"

"Did you smash the cake box yourself so you could complain?" Ron inquired.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Maybe you've got a thing for being sent cakes shaped like cocks?" Ron asked conversationally.

"How dare you!"

"Or perhaps you've got a thing for me."

Draco's lips parted again, and this time he didn't close his mouth. "Of all the egotistical things you might think --"

"You know what I think?" Ron asked. "I think you sent your friend Zabini ahead to try and learn a few things about me, and after his party -- if there even was one -- you came in to place your own order, assuming I would deliver the cake the first time. What I can't figure out is whether you were just trying to set me up to seem like an idiot, maybe try to embarrass me by telling my family, or --"

Draco looked indignant. "You think I sent Blaise in to deduce whether you were gay or not? As if it weren't ridiculously obvious, you creating huge cakes shaped like erections!"

Ron gaped. "Well, no one else seems to think so! My family hasn't said a word about it to me --"

"Only because they're likely waiting for you to figure yourself out," Draco sniffed. "They've probably an agreement amongst themselves not to speak of it until you do. You've always seemed slow to me; I'm not surprised they think so as well."

"Now, see here --"

"I bet you a galleon they're just waiting for you to finally admit it." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I never sent in Blaise to suss out whether you were queer. He went in to place an order, a legitimate order, and then went on and on about how you were his latest find and how he was going to be the one to seduce you."

Ron blinked. "Me?"

"When obviously you were mine to seduce if I so chose," Draco went on, pacing as he spoke.

"Wait, how did you get that idea?" Ron asked, completely confused.

Draco stopped and folded his arms. "All those times I fought with you in school, all the times I insulted your family or mother? You never wondered why I picked on you particularly?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Because you hated Harry?"

"Well, not just that."

"Seems an odd way to try to catch someone's interest," Ron muttered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes, well, I didn't realize I was trying at first; I was too young. And then later, well. It's hard to meet men in the Wizarding world," Draco said petulantly.

"Does seem that way," Ron agreed.

For a moment they were both silent.

"So it's obvious I found you first, and I thought of you that way first; Blaise had no right."

While Ron squinted at this rationale, Draco went on.

"When I heard you were fashioning all of these cocks out of cake and icing, it seemed obvious you had begun to work it out, what you were. I waited to approach you some other way; it's not as though I wanted to go through all of this with the cakes! But you were never at any of the pubs or bars where we go --"

Ron threw his hands into the air. "I knew there must be places! I just had no idea where to look!"

"And when Blaise started in, I couldn't think of anything else to try, aside from ordering a cake and trying to get you alone!"

"Well, what were you going to do once you had me alone?" Ron asked, exasperated. "Insult my mum? Complain about the icing?"

"No, you idiot," Draco snapped. "I was going to do this."

Then all at once he was crowding Ron against the wall, mashing their mouths together until their teeth clacked, and rubbing Ron's cock through his trousers as though they were already in the middle of something instead of just starting.

"Hang on," Ron gasped. "Aren't we supposed to, I don't know, have a drink or something first? Get to know each other?"

Draco looked at him like he was mental. "I already know you. Let's do this part now."

"But you don't even like me!"

"We'll figure that part out some other time," Draco dismissed and shoved his thigh in between Ron's legs.

Ron stalled for a beat, but Draco wriggling up against him, panting and looking wild, was just too much. So he grasped Draco, yanking him close and then tugging his hair back so he could kiss him right this time around.

"Fuck, yes, that's the way," Draco mumbled, dropping his head back so Ron could bite at his neck. He lifted his head back up, a look of fierce triumph in his eyes as he brought their mouths together again, tongue flickering and lips surrendering with a delicious sounding moan.

"Christ," Ron swore, pushing against the hard length he felt pressing at his thigh. "You couldn't have just asked me to start with this kind of thing days ago, instead of ordering cakes and getting me angry?"

"Then I never would have gotten a preview of what gets you going," Draco whispered as he leaned in, licking along the outer shell of Ron's ear. "Or have a chance to wonder just what you modeled all of those cocks on your cakes on," he added, cupping Ron's erection and this time teasing along its length with feather-light touches.

"You wondered about that?" Ron asked in shock.

"Everyone wondered about that," Draco rejoined with a glare.

Before Ron had a chance to think too hard about everyone wondering such a thing, Draco had dropped to his knees and was unbuttoning his trousers. "Oh yes, much, much better than the iced versions," Draco murmured, his breath hot puffs of air making Ron's bare cock twitch. Then with an eager little sound at the back of his throat, he slid his tight lips along Ron's cock and worked his hand inside Ron's trousers so he could cup and stroke his balls at the same time.

"Fuck," Ron panted, jerking his hips forward. It seemed rude to ride too hard into it so soon, or to let it escalate so fast when they had only just started. But Draco was relentless, pulling at Ron's arse to get him to shove in harder, sliding off the head of his cock with a pop and then whimpering as he dove back to take it in once again, working his throat and swallowing until Ron could hold back no more.

He gasped and cried out as his body shook, as Draco grasped his hips and offered up his hot soft mouth for the taking.

"Lord," Ron slurred, leaning against the wall for support.

Draco nuzzled his cock, looking up with a drop of come on his lip and a self-satisfied expression in his eyes.

Ron wiped the drop away with his thumb, inhaling sharply when Draco rubbed his cheek against his palm and then followed by licking off the tip of Ron's thumb.

They had stumbled over to the couch and kissed languidly for a time before Ron was able to formulate one of the odd points sticking in his head.

"So you just returned the cakes so you could meet with me? You liked them after all?" he asked breathlessly (Draco had draped himself on top of Ron, both of their trousers now shoved to their ankles, and was twisting his hips this way and that in a sinuous motion).

"The cakes?" Draco snorted and wrinkled his nose. "I don't really care for sweets, actually."

Ron gave him an incredulous look. "You always got boxes of them at school! Everyone saw you get huge boxes at breakfast, and hand them round!"

"Well, those were to curry favour with others," Draco explained as if that were patently clear. He raised himself on his palms slightly and shifted until their hardening cocks were aligned.

"So in other words you didn't like them --"

"I liked the cocks on them, obviously; those interested me a great deal, though not the sugars or icings they were made from." Draco let his mouth fall open as he tilted his head back and slid his body forward.

"And you thought mine, er, measured up to the decorations I've made?" Ron gripped Draco's hips a little tighter than strictly necessary.

"I said already," Draco complained, but he grinned as he continued, "Measured up, yes, thank you; surpassed, yes, thank you very much indeed."

He kept on grinning as he slid against Ron, until Ron grunted with pleasure and rolled them over so he was on top.



*~* the end *~*