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The flickering torchlight barely reached the narrow alcove, where Ron pressed Draco against the cool stone wall, their lips meeting in a hurried, feverish kiss. The stolen moments between them had grown bolder, more desperate, fueled by the risk of being discovered and the increasing tensions at Hogwarts. Draco’s hands fisted in the front of Ron’s robes, tugging him closer, as if trying to forget, just for a moment, who they were outside of this hidden space.
Then– footsteps.
Draco stiffened immediately, his breath catching as he recognized the voices drifting down the corridor.
“Draco! Where the hell did you disappear to?” Pansy’s sharp tone echoed off the walls.
Blaise’s voice was more amused. “You’d think he’d at least tell us where he’s sneaking off. Probably sulking somewhere after that spat with Potter.”
Draco’s eyes went wide in panic, pulling away. Before he could make a sound, Ron clamped a firm hand over his mouth. His other hand braced against the wall beside Draco’s head, caging him in place. The warm weight of Ron’s body pressing into his was the only thing keeping him from bolting.
Through the narrow gap between the stone columns, Draco could just make out the swish of Pansy’s robes as she strode past, Blaise following at a leisurely pace.
Ron leaned in, his voice barely a whisper against Draco’s skin. “Be quiet. Unless you want them to find us…?”
Draco shot him a murderous glare, but stayed silent.
Ron smirked, his thumb grazing the corner of Draco’s mouth before slipping inside, pressing down on Draco’s tongue. Draco fought the urge to gag, instead wrapping his lips around the digit and sucking gently.
“Good boy. You do know how to behave.” Ron grinned, pleased by the action. Draco contemplated biting down to show Weasley just how good he is. Before he could make a decision, Ron’s other hand began to trail down to cup Draco’s member through his slacks. Draco parted his lips the finger inside his mouth the only thing muffling his moan.
Ron chuckled darkly, feeling Draco’s cock twitch beneath his palm. He gave it a firm squeeze, relishing the way Draco’s hips jerked in response.
“Still begging for it, even with your precious little friends around?” Ron taunted, his fingers deftly unfastening Draco’s trousers. He yanked them down along with Draco’s boxers in one go. Draco whined as his small cock was exposed to the chilly air of the corridor.
Ron wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly from base to tip. “I bet you can’t wait to get back to them, huh? To act all high and mighty again?”
Ron leaned in close, his hot breath tickling Draco’s skin as he whispered, “But we both know what really gets you going.” He squeezed Draco’s shaft tighter, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. “Tell me, Malfoy…”
Draco whined, his hips jerking towards Ron’s hand, begging him to move it again. Shame filled him, but he couldn’t help himself. The gryffindor knew exactly what strings to pull to get a reaction out of Draco.
“Y-you do, sir.”
Ron hums, hand moving back and forth as he jerks Draco’s small cock.
“What do I do that turns you into a whimpering slut?”
He picked up the pace of his strokes, his grip tightening just enough to edge Draco towards the brink. “Is it how I call you names, like the pathetic little whore you are? Or maybe it’s when I remind you who’s really in control here.”
Ron leaned in, capturing Draco’s lips in a rough, demanding kiss. He plunged his tongue inside, claiming Draco’s mouth as thoroughly as he planned to claim his body soon.
Breaking th kiss, Ron growled, “Or is it the way I make you beg for my touch, even when you’re surrounded by your so-called friends?”
With a final, swift tug, Ron brought Draco over the edge. He felt the hot spurt of cum against his palm, Draco’s back arching as he cried out in release.
Draco didn’t know if he was more shocked or humiliated, still riding the high of his orgasm, as Ron reached forward, wiping Draco’s own cum off on his face. Draco remained still, eyes wide as the cum is smeared across his cheek and mouth.
“There. Now you look like a whore should.” Ron stepped back, admiring the mess he’d made of Draco’s elegant features. Draco didn’t move. He remained on the floor where he had slipped down the wall in the throughs of his orgasm, trousers tangled around his ankles, cum covering his face and stomach as his spent cock dripped between his legs.
Ron couldn’t help but think that Draco was beautiful like this. If it wasn’t for their families– and the war– Ron would love to keep Draco like this all the time. Relaxed and submissive without a thought behind his eyes other than care for Ron.
“You look almost pretty like this, in a filthy sort of way.”
Ron turned to adjust himself, making sure his own arousal was carefully concealed. “We should probably get you cleaned up before you rejoin your little group. Wouldn’t want them to see you looking like a used alley slut.”
He offered Draco a hand up, pulling him to his feet. Draco stumbled slightly as he rose, but Ron was there– solid, steady. Carefully catching him and holding him up as he wavered. His grip was firm around Draco’s wrist, his other hand instinctively bracing against Draco’s waist to keep him upright.
Their faces were inches apart. Ron’s blue eyes locked onto his, sharp and searching, as if he was waiting for something Draco couldn’t quite name.
Draco swallowed hard, his pulse stuttering under the weight of Ron’s touch. It would be so easy to close the space between them. To press forward and capture Ron’s lips on his own, to make this moment something more. What would Ron do if he did?
The thought sent a sharp jolt through him—because that wasn’t what they did.
They fucked.
They used each other for comfort in the dark, bodies tangling in the quiet, desperate for something neither of them could put into words.
They played a game of push and pull, of dominance and submission, to bring some type of control into their lives that they didn’t have outside of stolen moments.
But a kiss—something as simple as a goodbye kiss—felt too intimate, too much like admitting there was something more here.
Draco hesitated, lips parting slightly, but at the last second, he turned his head. The moment broke.
"Thanks," he muttered instead, stepping back.
Ron released him slowly, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary before letting go. His expression flickered—something unreadable, something Draco didn’t dare examine too closely.
"Yeah," Ron said after a beat, his voice rough. "Anytime."
And just like that, the space between them stretched again.
Ron exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something unspoken. His gaze flickered over Draco, scanning him in that way he always did. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out yet.
“You gonna be alright getting back to the dungeons on your own?” Ron asked, his voice quieter now.
Draco huffed, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as if that would settle the unease curling in his chest. “I think I can manage, Weasley,” he said, smirking faintly. “Unless you think I’ll get lost on the way to my own common room.”
Ron didn’t take the bait. He just studied him, his expression unreadable, his fingers flexing at his sides. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.
Draco hesitated.
Ron was still looking at him, waiting—for what, Draco wasn’t sure. An answer? An admission?
Something tight coiled in Draco’s stomach. The urge to say something real—to let whatever this was between them become something more—bubbled up before he could stop it. But instead of addressing it, he scoffed, stepping back.
“I’ll be fine, Weasley. I don’t need a chaperone.”
Ron’s jaw tensed, and for a second, it seemed like he might push, might call him out for deflecting. But then he just nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Right. See you around, Malfoy.”
Draco turned on his heel before he could second-guess himself, before he could say something he wasn’t ready to admit. He didn’t look back.
And Ron didn't stop him.