Title: On Display
Author: gracerene
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Teddy, vague mention of past Ron/Hermione and Teddy/OMCs
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Defilement & Exhibitionism
Other Warnings/Content: established relationship, public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, mild come play, light D/s dynamics, anal fingering, anal sex, first person POV
Word Count: ~1,850
Summary/Description: Ron and Teddy put on a show.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to kedavranox for giving this a quick once over for me!

"Oh, yes, please. More, give me more."

I barely register the appreciative murmurs from the people watching, my mind completely absorbed by the man standing behind me, his slick fingers sliding in and out of my arse. We've been at it for what feels like hours, me bent over and splayed out on stage while Ron teases and torments me for the crowd's amusement. It's not the first time we've messed around at this club, but it's the first time we've been so exposed, the star attraction, as it were. The knowledge that most everybody in the club has their gaze glued to my arse, watching as Ron’s thick fingers stretch me open, has my entire body tingling. I love being the centre of attention. My grandma always said there wasn't a more fitting person to be a metamorphmagus.

I let out a breathy groan as Ron’s fingers tease my prostate. It's only a little bit exaggerated—I've always had a sensitive arse and the touch feels fantastic—but Ron knows me well enough by now to tell the difference. His palm connects with my left arse cheek, and the smack reverberates throughout the room, much to the patrons' obvious delight. I'm right there with them. I can feel the heat radiating out from where he hit me, and my arse still jiggles from the impact.

"You know the rules, sweetheart," he chides sternly. "I want your honest reactions. You don't need to play anything up for the crowd. Just feel it and let me take care of you."

"But you're taking so long," I reply, the pout obvious in my voice. I know I'm whining, but I also know that Ron likes me bratty. "I just want you to fuck me. Want your cock. Please."

A man near the stage turns towards his companion to compliment how well I beg, and I preen. Ron laughs quietly, clearly picking up on my response. He never misses a thing, not when it comes to me.

"Patience, baby. I've got to loosen you up, stretch you wide so I can slide right in."

He adds a fourth finger, and I arch my back as much as I can, opening myself up for him. We don't always go for so much prep—I don't have the patience for it most of the time, and neither does he—but sometimes he likes me loose and easy, and his cock is massive. The four fingers are necessary, and it's not as if I mind having any part of him inside me, but I'm already eager for the main event. The eyes on me have ramped up my arousal to nuclear levels, and I can't wait to show everybody what I look like when Ron's fucking me, how well I take him, how good I am for him. I want every single person in the club to burn with envy even as their dicks throb, all of them wishing they were in one of our places.

His fingers slide out of my arse, leaving me almost unbearably empty, and I don't bother suppressing my whine. I wiggle my arse, hopeful that soon I'll be feeling Ron's rock hard cock sliding between my cheeks. A moment later, I get my wish as the fat head of Ron's dick rubs along my crease before slapping against my hole.

"Is this what you want?" Ron asks, his voice a low rough rumble that has precome leaking out of my dick.

"You know it is."

He spanks me again for my sass, slapping my right arsecheek this time. I gasp as pleasure and pain suffuse my skin with a hot glow. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

I like pushing him, but we've got an audience today, and I don't want to go too far. They need to see how perfect I can be. "I want it so, so badly. Please give it to me?"

"Much better," he says, and there's so much pride in his voice I feel like I must be sparkling with happiness. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

With this, he begins to slide inside. He's opened me up so well, there's barely any sting at all, my arse parting for him like he belongs there. We both groan as he settles all the way in, and his hands spread my arse cheeks wide, giving him—and the crowd—a better view of where my rim is stretched wide around him. The club is silent, a heavy hush of anticipation blanketing the room as the audience watches with bated breath. Ron pulls out slowly, and the slick slide of it sounds filthy in the pin-drop quiet of the club. And then he fucks back in, hard, beginning a deep, fast rhythm as the crowd murmurs and rumbles their encouragement.

I'm not silent in my own appreciation, moaning and groaning as Ron fucks the air from my lungs. It's always intense with him, always earth-shaking, mind-shatteringly bliss. Every single time is even more amazing than the last, and sometimes I still can't believe that I have this, that I have him. I spent years quietly yearning for him, an awkward teenaged crush that I never managed to grow out of. He was the man to whom I compared every other bloke, the reason why none of my boyfriends never lasted past a couple of months, forever falling short against the person who'd already stolen my heart. Working with him at the joke shop was an exquisite kind of agony, causing me to fall for him more and more every day, torturing me with his nearness, knowing he could never be mine.

I'd long since resigned myself to a lifetime of unrequited love, to never being seen as anything more than an honorary nephew. Even when he split from Hermione, or when news of his bisexuality had rocked the Weasley family, I hadn't let myself hope. Ron was so cool, older, hilarious, and fit as hell. He could have his pick of witches and wizards—why would he possibly choose me?

But, impossibly, he had chosen me. That connection between us as we worked so closely together at the joke shop, the one I'd convinced myself was all in my head, he felt it too. Ever the Gryffindor, he was the one who made the first move, and I'll never forget the night he kissed me, the hope and nervousness on his face, as if he were afraid I would reject him. It's been over a year since that night, and I've never been more sure that he's it for me, that he's the one. Our family took awhile to come around, but once they realised we were serious, they jumped on board. Of course, none of them are aware of our...less vanilla pursuits. They don't know that we both like others watching us while Ron fucks my brains out, but that's hardly their business anyway.

Ron's thrusts grow harder, his fingers gripping my arse so intently I know I'll have little fingerprint shaped bruises to admire in the mirror tomorrow morning. I can tell he's close, and I'm right there with him, my heavy prick dripping precome all over the floor.

"Where do you want me to come, baby?" Ron asks, his voice breathless from exertion. "You want me come in your arse? Or should I give our friends a good show and come all over this gorgeous back of yours?"

I moan, overwhelmed by the options. I want them both, want to be greedy. There's little I love more than Ron's come on me and in me, the sticky, dirty aftermath proof positive that Ron is mine. I love the feeling of Ron's release dripping out of me, making a mess of my arse and thighs, but we've got people watching. I know how fucking sexy it is when Ron comes, and I'd hate to deprive them of the sight, not after they've been such a good audience for us.

"Come on my back," I beg. "Cover me in it."

"Fuck, yes," Ron groans. "Good choice, sweetheart."

He thrusts into me for another handful of seconds, before pulling out, leaving me empty. A few moments more, and the warm splash of come stripes my back and arse as Ron grunts above me. I turn my head to the side and look back at him, my belly clenching at the hot satisfaction that burns in his gaze as he stares possessively at my marked back. His gaze shifts, he meets my eyes, and everything stops. The enthusiastic response of the club falls away as I'm overwhelmed by the love and lust I feel for the man towering over me.

He reaches out to run a hand down my filthy back, smearing his come onto my skin as he smirks at me, well aware how much I love it. "It's your turn, love," he says softly. "Time for you to come."

With that, he leans down to hook his hands beneath my armpits and pulls me up against him, my come-covered back pressing against his naked chest. We're plastered to one another, glued together by Ron's drying come, and the thought makes my head spin. The dizziness only increases as Ron wraps his slick hand around my cock, jerking me fast and rough, every inch of me on display for the still-rapt crowd.

"You close, baby?" Ron asks, his voice a low growl in my ear.

I nod, words completely beyond me as my climax rapidly approaches.

"Good. I want you to come for me. Come for me and all of our special friends. Show them how beautiful you are when you let go."

That's all I need. A few more strokes of Ron's talented hand, and I'm coming, throwing my head back against Ron's shoulder as I spill over his fingers and onto the floor. My orgasm leaves me completely drained, and I sag in Ron's arms as he releases my cock and holds me close. His hand is still wet with my come, and he smears it along my stomach and chest as he pets me, his nose nuzzling against my ear.

"How are you doing, Teddy?" Ron asks me, after, once we've made our way to a private room in the back to clean up and recover. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

His gaze is soft and fond as he stares into my eyes, and I'm filled with so much love and desire and happiness, I feel like I could burst. The wild, adventurous sex is amazing, and I'm grateful he's so willing to push the boundaries and experiment with me, that he's so clearly eager to give me whatever I want. That's not why I love him, though, and I think I could be satisfied with vanilla missionary position for the rest of my life, as long as I got to spend that life with him.

I smile at him and pull him in for a kiss, speaking against his lips.

"It was even better."