It was a long minute before Ron registered that someone was talking to him. “Hmmm,” he mumbled. It was another moment before he gained the power to turn his eyes away from what he was fixated on across the room to turn to Harry beside him. “Sorry, what?”
“You okay?”
Ron wondered if his face looked as heated as it felt. “Fine, why?”
“You’re drooling.”
“What?” Ron dabbed at the moist corners of his mouth. Fuck. “I’m a… I’m… just hungry.”
“But Ron,” Harry began, then indicated the full plates of food before them.
“Oh, excellent!” Ron exclaimed, tucking in. He needed the distraction of food to keep his mind--and gaze--from across the room and Draco...and his food.
This was all Harry’s fault. Harry who talked in his sleep. Harry who wouldn’t shut up about Draco and his mouth as he tossed and turned under his covers. He didn’t even want to know why Harry spent so much of his sleeping life thinking of Malfoy in that way and if it were memories playing in his dreams, or fantasy. He shuddered at the very idea.
Only… well, now Ron couldn’t help notice Draco across the room, couldn’t help notice the way his mouth worked over his breakfast. It was almost indecent what he was doing with the sausage. No, it was indecent. A tongue should not spend that much time running along the sides of a large piece of meat. Not when there were this many people in a room. Not when there were children in his presence.
Draco looked up and directly in Ron’s direction, causing him to swallow hard, almost choking on his own cut of meat that he had cut up and placed in his mouth like a normal person. Draco, eyes still on Ron, tongued the tip of the sausage before taking the tip in his mouth and biting down, sucking the juices, throwing his head back and moaning. Or that’s what Ron detected he was doing. Maybe the moan was coming from him instead.
“Ron?”
“I’m fine,” he growled. He picked up his napkin, wiped at his mouth again and then dropped the cloth on his lap. Even in robes, he felt exposed with the level of wood he was currently carrying in his trousers. It was painful how hard he was, it was humiliating that it was Malfoy that had gotten him there.
He heard Harry harumph beside him and Ron was going to say something, but then he heard Harry get to his feet and walk away. He was going to pull his eyes away and chase after Harry, but when he turned, the motion, the friction of his trousers against his erection stopped him with a gasp.
He gratefully listened to Harry’s feet retreat. He didn’t think he could face him right now. He closed his eyes and bowed his head and tried to clear his mind. He wondered if it were possible to wish and pray an erection away. It had never worked in the past, but the idea of sitting there at the crowded breakfast table without the ability to touch himself made the ache throb every muscle in his body.
What he wouldn’t do for the use of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. If only Harry hadn’t started carrying it around with him. Ron couldn’t very well Accio it out of Harry’s bookbag without notice.
While Ron contemplated how to get out of his predicament, avoiding Draco across the room, the hall got less and less crowded. So that the next time his eyes defied him and turned to Malfoy, they were almost completely alone in the room.
Thankfully, Draco had moved off of the entirely too erotic digestion of breakfast meat and was raising a glass of pumpkin juice to his lips. He drank greedily and Ron watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down repeatedly.
When he put the glass down, he reached for his napkin, but when he saw Ron watching him, he raised and eyebrow and slowly, deliberately swiped his tongue along his bottom lip, then his top.
Ron whimpered and, stealing a glance around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, shifted his seat, his palm pushing against his lap. He cried out like a wounded animal.
It was a long minute before Ron registered that someone was talking to him. “Hmmm,” he mumbled. It was another moment before he gained the power to turn his eyes away from what he was fixated on across the room to turn to Harry beside him. “Sorry, what?”
“You okay?”
Ron wondered if his face looked as heated as it felt. “Fine, why?”
“You’re drooling.”
“What?” Ron dabbed at the moist corners of his mouth. Fuck. “I’m a… I’m… just hungry.”
“But Ron,” Harry began, then indicated the full plates of food before them.
“Oh, excellent!” Ron exclaimed, tucking in. He needed the distraction of food to keep his mind--and gaze--from across the room and Draco...and his food.
This was all Harry’s fault. Harry who talked in his sleep. Harry who wouldn’t shut up about Draco and his mouth as he tossed and turned under his covers. He didn’t even want to know why Harry spent so much of his sleeping life thinking of Malfoy in that way and if it were memories playing in his dreams, or fantasy. He shuddered at the very idea.
Only… well, now Ron couldn’t help notice Draco across the room, couldn’t help notice the way his mouth worked over his breakfast. It was almost indecent what he was doing with the sausage. No, it was indecent. A tongue should not spend that much time running along the sides of a large piece of meat. Not when there were this many people in a room. Not when there were children in his presence.
Draco looked up and directly in Ron’s direction, causing him to swallow hard, almost choking on his own cut of meat that he had cut up and placed in his mouth like a normal person. Draco, eyes still on Ron, tongued the tip of the sausage before taking the tip in his mouth and biting down, sucking the juices, throwing his head back and moaning. Or that’s what Ron detected he was doing. Maybe the moan was coming from him instead.
“Ron?”
“I’m fine,” he growled. He picked up his napkin, wiped at his mouth again and then dropped the cloth on his lap. Even in robes, he felt exposed with the level of wood he was currently carrying in his trousers. It was painful how hard he was, it was humiliating that it was Malfoy that had gotten him there.
He heard Harry harumph beside him and Ron was going to say something, but then he heard Harry get to his feet and walk away. He was going to pull his eyes away and chase after Harry, but when he turned, the motion, the friction of his trousers against his erection stopped him with a gasp.
He gratefully listened to Harry’s feet retreat. He didn’t think he could face him right now. He closed his eyes and bowed his head and tried to clear his mind. He wondered if it were possible to wish and pray an erection away. It had never worked in the past, but the idea of sitting there at the crowded breakfast table without the ability to touch himself made the ache throb every muscle in his body.
What he wouldn’t do for the use of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. If only Harry hadn’t started carrying it around with him. Ron couldn’t very well Accio it out of Harry’s bookbag without notice.
While Ron contemplated how to get out of his predicament, avoiding Draco across the room, the hall got less and less crowded. So that the next time his eyes defied him and turned to Malfoy, they were almost completely alone in the room.
Thankfully, Draco had moved off of the entirely too erotic digestion of breakfast meat and was raising a glass of pumpkin juice to his lips. He drank greedily and Ron watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down repeatedly.
When he put the glass down, he reached for his napkin, but when he saw Ron watching him, he raised and eyebrow and slowly, deliberately swiped his tongue along his bottom lip, then his top.
Ron whimpered and, stealing a glance around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, shifted his seat, his palm pushing against his lap. He cried out like a wounded animal.