“What did I tell you about watching that pretty mouth of yours, Malfoy?” Ron said, working the straps of the gag behind Draco’s head while he sat on his naked lap.
Draco didn’t attempt to talk around the gag, but he did roll his eyes spectacularly.
Ron growled and accio’d the blindfold too. “Manners.”
Draco’s eyes widened as Ron raised the silk fabric to them, he shook his head, frantically.
Ron schooled his features and proceeded to put on the blindfold despite Draco’s protests. He had to remind himself this was a game, they were playing. He’d never get anywhere with Draco by being a pushover; not in bed or in play.
Truth was, it took him a long time to get Draco to say anything in bed. Ron was boisterous in his fucking--a little too boisterous he’d heard from others; flatmates, neighbors, passer-byers--and he liked when his partner was also vocal. Draco, who had no problem with sharing every little opinion he ever had, would clam up the moment he took off his clothes. The way Draco pursed his lips, the way he bit his lower lip when Ron teased him with his fingers and tongue; Ron knew it was about Draco’s need for control.
Ron took to the challenge like a Seeker takes to the challenge of the Snitch, with pinpoint focus and loads and loads of practice.
Nothing pleased him more than the sound of Draco Fuckin’ Malfoy begging him for… well for pretty much anything. That Ron had anything that Draco wanted was just mind-boggling to him, still.
And Draco did want it. Even with his mouth gagged, his eyes covered and his hands restrained behind the chair, Ron could feel the need seep from his every pore. Ron wanted to hear it, the struggle, the inability to stop. He wanted it to be a struggle, something he had to fight through. Nothing got Draco more heated than a fight.
It was the only thing that made sense of their relationship there in the beginning. Their passionate loathing sustained them for a bit, then the hatred turned to other passions and they lived off that for years. Now? Well, now they improvised, found ways to keep the passion alive. Ron found other ways to fight with Draco since most the things that used to work were resolved, compromised around or too repetitive to even instill a jolt of animosity. Draco found other ways to give Ron what he wanted by pretending he didn’t want it at all.
If only he’d convinced his cock of that fact.
Ron wet his lips as he watched the struggle Draco was having with his dick’s betrayal as it lengthened and grew rigid. And they’d barely begun.
He got on his knees before Draco, shimmying himself between his knees. Running his hand up Draco’s torso, chest, throat to the back of his head where he fisted a handful of the blond. Bringing his face forward so he could whisper hot in his ear. “What do you want, love?”
Draco wrapped his legs around Ron’s waist, pulling him tight to him with the muscles of his thighs.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Draco groaned.
“You want me to touch you?”
Draco growled and struggled against the restraints at his wrists.
“Use your words,” Ron laughed lightly, still at Draco’s ear. He slowly breathed his way down Draco’s body. Not touching him, not licking or teasing, just hot breath so Draco could sense where he was. Draco’s flesh stood at attention as Ron removed Draco’s long legs around his waist and draped them over his shoulders instead.
Draco moaned and fought against the gag by lashing his head and trying to slide the straps with his shoulders.
Ron laughed again, this time the breath of it hit Draco at the tip of his cock before Ron took it into his mouth, running his tongue along the slit, tasting the precome.
He moaned loudly. “Taste so good, Draco.”
Draco’s breath was heavy. Ron could feel his struggle, his struggle to be free, to touch and taste, his struggle to demand. He pulled Ron back down to his crotch with his knees at his shoulders. Instead of taking Draco’s cock in his mouth again, Ron licked at his balls.
“What did I tell you about watching that pretty mouth of yours, Malfoy?” Ron said, working the straps of the gag behind Draco’s head while he sat on his naked lap.
Draco didn’t attempt to talk around the gag, but he did roll his eyes spectacularly.
Ron growled and accio’d the blindfold too. “Manners.”
Draco’s eyes widened as Ron raised the silk fabric to them, he shook his head, frantically.
Ron schooled his features and proceeded to put on the blindfold despite Draco’s protests. He had to remind himself this was a game, they were playing. He’d never get anywhere with Draco by being a pushover; not in bed or in play.
Truth was, it took him a long time to get Draco to say anything in bed. Ron was boisterous in his fucking--a little too boisterous he’d heard from others; flatmates, neighbors, passer-byers--and he liked when his partner was also vocal. Draco, who had no problem with sharing every little opinion he ever had, would clam up the moment he took off his clothes. The way Draco pursed his lips, the way he bit his lower lip when Ron teased him with his fingers and tongue; Ron knew it was about Draco’s need for control.
Ron took to the challenge like a Seeker takes to the challenge of the Snitch, with pinpoint focus and loads and loads of practice.
Nothing pleased him more than the sound of Draco Fuckin’ Malfoy begging him for… well for pretty much anything. That Ron had anything that Draco wanted was just mind-boggling to him, still.
And Draco did want it. Even with his mouth gagged, his eyes covered and his hands restrained behind the chair, Ron could feel the need seep from his every pore. Ron wanted to hear it, the struggle, the inability to stop. He wanted it to be a struggle, something he had to fight through. Nothing got Draco more heated than a fight.
It was the only thing that made sense of their relationship there in the beginning. Their passionate loathing sustained them for a bit, then the hatred turned to other passions and they lived off that for years. Now? Well, now they improvised, found ways to keep the passion alive. Ron found other ways to fight with Draco since most the things that used to work were resolved, compromised around or too repetitive to even instill a jolt of animosity. Draco found other ways to give Ron what he wanted by pretending he didn’t want it at all.
If only he’d convinced his cock of that fact.
Ron wet his lips as he watched the struggle Draco was having with his dick’s betrayal as it lengthened and grew rigid. And they’d barely begun.
He got on his knees before Draco, shimmying himself between his knees. Running his hand up Draco’s torso, chest, throat to the back of his head where he fisted a handful of the blond. Bringing his face forward so he could whisper hot in his ear. “What do you want, love?”
Draco wrapped his legs around Ron’s waist, pulling him tight to him with the muscles of his thighs.
“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”
Draco groaned.
“You want me to touch you?”
Draco growled and struggled against the restraints at his wrists.
“Use your words,” Ron laughed lightly, still at Draco’s ear. He slowly breathed his way down Draco’s body. Not touching him, not licking or teasing, just hot breath so Draco could sense where he was. Draco’s flesh stood at attention as Ron removed Draco’s long legs around his waist and draped them over his shoulders instead.
Draco moaned and fought against the gag by lashing his head and trying to slide the straps with his shoulders.
Ron laughed again, this time the breath of it hit Draco at the tip of his cock before Ron took it into his mouth, running his tongue along the slit, tasting the precome.
He moaned loudly. “Taste so good, Draco.”
Draco’s breath was heavy. Ron could feel his struggle, his struggle to be free, to touch and taste, his struggle to demand. He pulled Ron back down to his crotch with his knees at his shoulders. Instead of taking Draco’s cock in his mouth again, Ron licked at his balls.
“Rrrrrrr,” Draco sputtered around the gag.