Title: The Long and the Short of It
Author: r_grayjoy
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: phallophilia (fetishization of certain types of cocks…)
Other Warnings: Draco fans are going to string me up by my toenails for this. Come to think of it, Ron fans might also.
Word Count: 2,825
Summary/Description: Every time Ron tries to put the moves on Draco, Draco puts on the brakes. Ron's determined to find out why -- before he expires from a terminal case of blue balls.
Author's Notes: I had completely criminal amounts of fun with this… Thanks to aigooism for the speedy beta!

The Long and the Short of It

Ron's perception of Draco Malfoy had first changed immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd seen Draco and his parents standing together, shocked and wan, and it had hit him: for all that he'd always thought of them as monsters, the Malfoys were a family, much like Ron's own. There was one major difference, however. Whereas Ron had been one of seven children, Draco was an only child. All of his parents' hopes and expectations rested entirely on his shoulders. Draco's behavior for the past seven years, as horrible as it was, suddenly made a lot more sense.

Ron probably should have been less surprised than he was when Draco showed up to help with the Hogwarts rebuilding efforts. Most of the others there hadn't exactly seen Draco as a welcome addition, so Ron had gone out of his way to engage him in conversation. Although Draco had remained icy towards him, Ron suspected he was grateful for an ally.

When Draco showed up at Fred's funeral, Ron probably should have been more surprised than he was. He'd easily accepted Draco's somewhat stiff condolences as sincere and told him that he appreciated the support. After that, a tentative -- and rather explosive at times -- friendship had begun.

Some weeks later Hermione had ended things with Ron, saying she was too young to be involved in a serious relationship and she wanted to focus on a career first. That night it wasn't Harry but Draco Ron had ended up going to for whinging and large quantities of alcohol. When Draco had kissed him somewhere around the time of their fifth glass of Firewhisky, the split with Hermione had suddenly bothered him a whole lot less.

The following morning was a mortifying scene of pretending-it-never-happened, and Ron reckoned it was not to be mentioned again, ever. But then, a week later, Draco had done it again. There hadn't even been any alcohol involved that time.

They weren't dating, not officially at any rate, but they somehow ended up seeing each other more evenings than not. They fit together remarkably well, and there was only one real problem as far as Ron could see. After two months, they still hadn't done more than snog and grope a bit. Draco seemed to enjoy it as much as Ron did, but every time Ron tried to go further, Draco froze up. It didn't make any sense. After all, what red-blooded teenaged wizard didn't want to have one off at every available opportunity? Ron only knew that the more blue his bollocks became, the less patience he had in reserve.

Which was why, when Draco halted the proceedings yet again, Ron rather tactlessly asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What? What do you mean what the hell is wrong with me? There's nothing wrong with me. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me?" Ron was incredulous. "I'm not the one who keeps stopping in the middle of a perfectly good snog!"

Adopting an affected air, Draco said, "My lips were getting raw."

"Yeah? And what about the other eight times?"

"You have not been counting."

"Ah-ha! You just admitted that you've been doing it!"

"So what? Maybe I just don't like the way you paw at me." Draco crossed his arms with a huff.

"I do not paw!"

"How would you know? Have you ever snogged yourself?"

"Fine," Ron said. "If it's such a terrible experience for you, I'll never touch you again."

"Fine." Draco turned away from Ron on the sofa and appeared to be gearing up for a right sulk.

"No," Ron moaned. "It's not fine! I like touching you, and I like snogging you, and I want to do really, really… naked things with you. And you seem like you're into it too, so… what's the problem?"

There was no response from Draco. Ron sighed and scooted closer to him. Placing his hand on Draco's shoulder, he said, "Come on, just tell me."

Draco turned and flopped back against the sofa, his arms still crossed. "It's just that I don't want you to be disappointed."

Confused, Ron said, "What? Why would I be disappointed?"

"I don't exactly have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. I was a little busy back in school trying not to get killed by a pack of mad dark wizards, you know," Draco said, clearly defensive. "You can't blame me for wanting to take things slowly."

"Draco, if we were moving any slower we'd be going backwards. Anyway, I know that's not the problem. I never got any further with Hermione and Lav than a bit of feeling up and a lot of wanking afterwards." Rather like he'd been doing lately, now that he thought about it. "I'm not any more experienced than you. So what is it really?"

Looking off to the side, Draco mumbled something that Ron couldn't make out.

"What?"

"I said, I have a small cock, all right?!"

For a few seconds, all Ron could do was blink in astonishment. At last he said, "Is that all this is about? Seriously? Small, large, purple with pink stripes, for fuck's sake, I couldn't care less at this point! I just want you to do something with it! And preferably mine as well while you're at it."

"Sure, you say that now…."

Ron knew that he could keep saying it until he was as blue in the face as he was in other parts, but it wouldn't likely put a dent in Draco's stubborn strop. Fortunately, there were other ways to make an impression. Grabbing his wand from the end table and giving it a flick, he made the sofa collapse into a bed.

Falling onto his back, Draco let out a startled squawk. "What the hell was mmmff!

Before Draco had time to complete his protest, Ron leapt atop him and blocked his words by sealing their lips together. Draco resisted, but not for long. It only took a few seconds for him to moan into Ron's mouth and slip his arms around Ron's back. Ron's erection, which had flagged during the intermission, came back to full attention. Ron dropped down against Draco and wriggled, letting Draco feel his arousal through their clothing. "Believe me yet?" he asked.

"Maybe," Draco gasped as he jerked his hips up and tightened his hold on Ron.

"Only maybe?" That was all right with Ron. He didn't at all mind doing a bit more persuading. He moved his body in a steady back and forth, pressing their hips together with every slide. In no time at all, Draco was clutching Ron's arse and squirming beneath him. Ron suspected Draco had been as frustrated with their stop and start foreplay as himself, and he felt a sense of smug satisfaction at that.

"Okay," Draco said, his voice breathy and high. "Convinced now."

That was Ron's chance, and he took it. He swiftly sat up to straddle Draco's thighs and began unfastening Draco's robes. Draco didn't object, so Ron had his robes open and his body bared in moments. After pausing only a beat to appreciate Draco's long, lean form, he moved down to tug Draco's underpants off.

Draco hadn't lied. His cock was small, there was no denying that. Yet somehow it was magnificent. Short and thick, it peeked up from a thatch of fine, light hair. It lacked the irregular veins and scattering of freckles that marked Ron's, and instead was unblemished, smooth, and deep pink. A single bead of fluid dotted the precisely rounded tip.

Although Ron could sense Draco's tension, he couldn't seem to look up. "It's perfect," he murmured.

Before Draco could think he was being insulted, Ron shifted closer, reached out, and grasped Draco's cock. It felt entirely different from touching himself, and it took a little time to find a tug-squeeze motion that worked. Once he did, however, he quickly discovered that Draco's small cock leaked a large amount of precome that eased the glide of Ron's fist. Wet sounds mingled with Draco's pants as he pushed up into Ron's grip and clawed at the bed.

As much as Ron was enjoying Draco's reaction, he wanted to do more things with that cock. If it felt so brilliant in his hand, he wondered what it would be like to have it in his mouth. Being the 'act first, think later' sort of Gryffindor that he was, he wasted no time in finding out. Releasing Draco, he maneuvered around until he was lying between Draco's legs and then greedily pulled his prick between his lips.

Giving a sharp cry, Draco buried his fingers in Ron's hair. Draco fit entirely into his mouth, and Ron discovered that he could fasten his lips around the base and swirl his tongue over the head. That earned him a series of whimpers which turned into full-fledged moans when he began to bob up and down. The sensation of the hard-soft flesh against his tongue, the scent of arousal rising up from Draco's skin, the sounds Draco was making were incredible. Ron groaned and ground his hips into the mattress.

In no time at all, Draco's thighs were tense and trembling, his breath coming fast through clenched teeth. "Ron! I'm--" Draco choked out. That was all the warning Draco managed to give before he spilled into Ron's mouth, his cock twitching and jumping wildly. Ron wasn't entirely prepared for the sudden rush of Draco's come, but he held on and refused to pull back until Draco began to relax.

Sitting up, Ron wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at Draco. A flush that started on Draco's face extended all the way down his chest. His hair was mussed and spread out on the bed in complete disarray, and he was still half in and half out of his clothes. Ron had never seen Draco so disheveled and debauched, and he decided that he rather liked it. His cock apparently appreciated it as well, because it gave a very interested twitch.

"Hmm, I suppose I should return the favor," Draco said.

"Only if you want to," Ron replied. Then, "Oh, Merlin, I really hope you want to."

The smile that spread across Draco's face was positively wicked. "Oh, I want to."

Ron nearly tore the buttons off his robes in his haste to strip. When he looked up again, he found Draco wide-eyed and staring at his bobbing erection. "Oh, god," Draco said. Ron didn't know what to make of that at all, but before he could decide whether to be flattered or offended, Draco ordered, "On your back. Now."

Under other circumstances Ron would have given Draco a hard time about being a bossy prat, but this time he simply complied. Draco shrugged the rest of the way out of his robes and then pounced. His hand was wrapped around Ron, and then both hands, and what Draco lacked in skill he made up in enthusiasm. It didn't take him too long to fall into a rhythm, his grip wonderfully tight. Just as Ron was becoming completely caught up in it, however, Draco stopped.

"Oi, why'd--" Ron began, but then Draco replaced his hands with his mouth. Ron's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. It took Draco a bit to figure out how to avoid using teeth and coordinate his mouth with his hands, but once he did, Ron didn't think it could possibly get any better. Draco proved him wrong, though, by reaching one hand down between his own legs to stroke himself.

Teetering on the verge of climax, Ron sat up. "Wait, wait, stop."

"What? What'd I do??" Draco said, jumping back.

"Nothing. I just… I want more."

"Then why'd you stop me?" Draco asked, clearly both baffled and annoyed. The role reversal was rather ironic, really. Ron mentally added that to the growing list of things to hassle Draco about later.

"No, I mean… I want it in me." Ron blushed at his own words.

"Oh." Draco's mouth worked for a few seconds before he finally said, "But you're never done that."

"Neither have you."

"Exactly! It sounds like a recipe for disaster to me!"

Rolling his eyes, Ron said, "Will you stop whinging and just Accio some sort of lube, for Merlin's sake?" Before I lose my nerve, he didn't add.

Draco swallowed once and did as Ron said. "How do you want…"

Ron rolled over onto his stomach and then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. "Seems like this would be easiest for a first go…"

"Right," Draco said. Ron could hear him taking the top off the jar he'd summoned. Draco shifted around a bit. There was a pause. And then Ron felt a slick finger pressing into him.

The sensation wasn't entirely new; Ron had done as much to himself before. But, oh, Draco's fingers were long, and the angle was better, and Draco could do things, reach places that Ron hadn't been able to. "More," Ron said, and Draco added more lube and a second finger. It burned at first, but quickly began to feel pretty damn good. It wasn't what Ron wanted, though. "All right, I'm ready, just… get on with it."

The fingers withdrew, there was more shifting, and then the wet sound of Draco preparing himself. Lining up behind Ron, Draco gave a tentative push. "Harder," Ron said, pressing back in encouragement. Draco grabbed Ron's hip and gave a rough thrust, and this time managed to sink into Ron. He made an odd, strangled sound and froze in place.

For a few heartbeats, Ron couldn't seem to breathe. He was startled at how stretched he felt, especially given Draco's size. It stung like hell. But it also felt incredible somehow, like scratching an itch or satisfying a craving he hadn't even realized he'd had.

"All right?" Draco asked in an unsteady voice.

"Yeah." Ron let out the breath he'd been holding. "Fine. Don't stop."

Draco pulled back a little, paused, pushed forward again. Out. In. Once more. He picked up his pace, and Ron rocked backwards to match his movements. Just as they were beginning to find a rhythm, Draco's cock slipped out and slid against Ron's arse. Draco cursed colorfully under his breath.

"S'okay," Ron said. "Just keep going."

They kept going, and soon Draco found a motion that worked, and Ron figured out how to balance on one arm so that he could jerk himself with the other. Their stride was more of a stumbling, stuttering lurch, but Ron couldn't care less. Draco's fingertips were digging into Ron's hips, and Ron was panting, and Draco was practically wailing, and the entire thing was just fucking amazing.

As wound up as Ron had already been, it didn't take long for the coil in his belly to snap. His legs shook, his bollocks hitched up, and then he was coming in hard spurts. He groaned and shuddered as his hand flew over his cock and Draco pumped him from behind, wringing his climax from him. That seemed to be the end of whatever restraint Draco might have had. With a shouted, "Fuck!" he bucked forward a final time and poured himself into Ron.

Still shaking, they collapsed into a sweaty, gasping heap. Neither of them seemed inclined to move right away. Ron felt… well, sticky, damp, and sore, really. But he also felt sated in a way he never had before.

When Draco rolled off him, Ron gingerly turned over onto his back. After some time of staring at the ceiling, Draco said, "Well, that was…"

"Bloody brilliant," Ron supplied.

"Eloquent as ever, Weasley." Out of the corner of his eye, Ron could see the slow smile that spread across Draco's face. "But yes, I suppose it was."

"I should have known you'd be loud in bed, Malfoy," Ron said. "Merlin knows you can't shut your gob anywhere else."

Draco hit Ron with a pillow. "And I should have known you'd be as freckled on your arse as you are everywhere else."

"That's the best you can come up with?" Ron asked, laughing.

"Shut it. One cannot be expected to be witty immediately after…."

"Having one's brains fucked out?"

"Ron! Must you be quite so uncouth?" Draco sounded utterly scandalized, but it was obvious he was trying not to laugh.

"If it ruffles your feathers? Yes. Definitely." Ron considered for a moment. "And if shagging you makes you more agreeable, I'll do that as frequently as possible as well."

Letting out a put-upon sigh, Draco said, "If that's what it takes to keep you happy."

Ron laughed again and shook his head. He knew that was as close as Draco would come any time soon to an admission that he cared about Ron's happiness. But then, that was Draco. He had a sharp tongue and a prissy demeanor disguising a warm heart and a small cock, and Ron, god help him, wouldn't change any of it.