DICLAIMER: Yo this shit ain't mine so don't sue. If y'all sue I can't keep on writing the porn becuz I will be in jail and there are no laptops in jail, only buttrape. D:
Even after he got over the surprise of being assigned as his Auror partner straight out of training, Draco had no great fondness for Ron Weasley. But he loved his cock. Loved it. Repeatedly, and often, and in a wide variety of locations.
It had all started the when Draco caught that glimpse of Ron in the showers, half-hard as he soaped himself up. Draco had avoided wondering what had gotten his tall partner in such a state – he was probably thinking of the Mudblood, ergh – and had skipped straight to worshiping that marvelous organ from afar. It was perfect – the perfect shape, the perfect length, it had this perfect little upward curve, it was even the perfect color... the cloud of ginger pubes it sprung from looked perfectly soft... Never before had Draco been at such a woeful loss for vocabulary, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
It was Ron's own fault that Draco was now so inappropriately obsessed, Draco supposed. If he hadn't been in the showers at precisely the wrong time that day, this would never have started. Draco couldn't get that cock out of his mind. If only he could see it one more time... get his hands on it...
The opportunity arose surprisingly soon, when out one of their first real missions together a hex hit Ron in the thigh. The other team apprehended the criminals, leaving Draco got to stay and do field triage on Ron. It was the perfect Ministry-approved excuse for getting Ron out of his pants, and Draco didn't hesitate. He checked for damage – very minor – and then he couldn't keep his hands from wandering. He simply didn't care what Ron would do to him; finally touching that perfect cock was pure bliss.
And after that first time, Ron hardly protested at all. It must be surprising, having one's colleague checking you for battle damage one instant and then wanking you like his life depended on it the next, and in all honesty Draco hadn't expected him to recover from the shock quite so fast, or ever.
But Ron quickly proved he was prepared to sink to truly astounding moral depths in order to get off on a regular basis, and rather than being pushed away in scorn, Draco found his attentions were tolerated. It even seemed like Ron was making room for him – either that or Draco had just never noticed how many opportunities there really were to slip away unnoticed for a quick fumble in the dark. Ron would occasionally put up token resistance – We could get caught! or Christ, Malfoy, you just don't give up do you? – but Draco would go shh and apply himself to Ron's seemingly ever-present erection, and Ron would swallow his protests.
This miraculous state of affairs persisted for a week, then another, until Draco could hardly imagine how he used to live through a day at work without getting his hands or mouth on Ron and his wonder cock at least once. The longer this went on, though, the harder it was to ignore the feeling that Draco was putting himself in a very precarious position. Ron was bound to find someone better to share the broom cupboard with at some point, and Draco was determined to to nothing to hasten that day.
The afternoon was cool and drizzly, and Draco and Ron had been stuck in the out-of-the-way shack for hours on end. Draco was finding the siren call of Ron's cock harder and harder to tune out. He snuck a glance at the prominent bulge in Ron's uniform leathers. Was it just his imagination or was it looking a bit more bulgy than usual...?
Deciding their job could take care of itself for a while, Draco began to slowly inch his hand toward the laces on Ron's leathers. They were only monitoring the wards, after all; they'd be perfectly able to hear them go off no matter how they were otherwise occupied.
Ron managed to feign complete ignorance that his trousers were being invaded until Draco had worked his fly all the way open and sucked the head of Ron's cock into his mouth, at which point he jumped nervously.
"Merlin's beard, Malfoy! You can't suck your partner off right in the middle of an important stakeout! Stop it!" Ron's protest was punctuated by grunts as he tried to wrestle Draco's head off his lap.
Draco gave Ron's shaft one more lingering lick and then let go, afraid he might have pushed too far this time. Any day now Ron would remember how Draco's attentions should disgust him.
Ron, however, made no attempt to return his now fully hard cock to the safety of his trousers. He cleared his throat. "Er, not to say you had an entirely bad idea there. We could do something that lets us both keep our eyes on the job instead, eh?"
Not daring to meet his eyes, Draco gladly returned his hand to Ron's crotch. Wrapping his tapered fingers firmly around Ron's length, he began to stroke slowly up and down, almost teasing. The awareness that any time could be the last was fresh in his mind, he wanted to make this last. A bead of precome trembled on the tip of Ron's cock, and Draco swirled his thumb in it, spreading the moisture over Ron's heated flesh and earning a small plaintive grunt for his efforts. Smiling, Draco began to speed up.
Draco was taken completely by surprise when a large hand brushed against the front of his own trousers. In all the times they'd done this, Ron had rarely made a sound, never spoken, and never offered to reciprocate.
Glancing over, he saw that Ron's eyes were fixed on the toes of Draco's boots. Rough fingers burrowed past his waistband and Draco felt his eyes sliding shut. Ron's hand collided with Draco's cock, which was already hard – hell, he'd been hard as a rock practically since he'd walked in here – and then fumbled downwards to settle in a clumsy half-grip, confined by the tight trousers.
"All right?" Ron asked when Draco gasped.
"You don't want to... undo your trousers or anything?"
"Go right ahead," Draco said, canting his hips. He could hardly believe this was happening, and the last thing he wanted to do was throw a wrench into things. Just let Ron do... whatever he was about to do, and hope he didn't come to his senses before this was over. Not that it was likely to last long; hell, Draco would probably come if Ron kept his hand stuffed down his pants much longer.
"What're you doing?" Draco asked stupidly as Ron clambered awkwardly into Draco's lap, their cocks just one thin layer of leather apart from touching.
"I, unlike some people, can't undo these laces with one hand," Ron mumbled.
Draco let the accusation slide in favor of watching avidly as Ron undid his trousers one lace at a time. His progress was agonizingly slow. Draco grit his teeth and mentally recited the ingredients to the Draught of Living Death in an attempt to stave off the orgasm that threatened every time Ron's knuckles brushed against his straining need.
Finally Draco's cock sprung free, and Ron took it in his huge hand. Draco had never felt under endowed, even felt he had larger equipment than most, but engulfed in Ron's expansive palm, warm and callused, with those long fingers wrapped tight around him, Draco felt small for the first time, and oddly vulnerable. His stomach gave a lurch, and without meaning to, he glanced into Ron's eyes. The fleeting glimpse of clear blue only caused his arousal to spike higher: Ron's attention was wholly focused on his hand holding Draco's cock, as if it were something precious or rare.
Letting his eyes fall shut, Draco blocked out the sight. It was too much to think about right now. Better to just concentrate on the feelings.
"I'm probably going to be rubbish at this," Ron said as he shifted forward on Draco's lap, his breath puffing against Draco's neck.
It was hard to remember whether he'd decided to encourage Ron or to keep his mouth shut, so Draco settled for an indeterminate wordless noise. Ron kept babbling, but he also kept stroking Draco lazily, so maybe not talking was the best course.
"No, I will be rubbish, because I've neverdoneitwithamanbefore" – Ron paused and rested his forehead on the top of Draco's head – "But you've gone and made it easy for me because something is always better than nothing, right?"
Draco mumbled again, and Ron must have taken it as an affirmative, because he gave a nervous-sounding sigh, scooted close enough that their chests bumped, and then clasped both his and Draco's cocks in his hand, ineptly trying to work out how to handle both cocks at once. Draco's cock was pressed against Ron's velvety shaft, and he felt his breath begin to shorten. He desperately tried to think of multiplication tables, Hagrid shaving his balls, anything to stave off his impending orgasm, but it was too late, Ron's fumblings had already sent him careening toward the home stretch.
Ron leaned into Draco's chest and began to simply thrust into his fist, sending sparks rushing down Draco's spine every time his cock stroked Draco's own. Draco didn't have time to wonder at how long it had actually been since he'd had a decent shag if this clumsy fumble in a rundown shack was undoing him so quickly; all his attention was focused on his cock and Ron's right next to it. They slid together fast and hot, slick with precome and sweat, and Draco barely had time to whimper a warning before he was coming all over Ron's hand in hot white spurts that wouldn't seem to end.
When the last shudder had past, Draco opened his eyes to find Ron still hard, but seemingly too far gone to know or care if Draco was watching him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his head was thrown back, exposing the graceful golden column of his neck. Draco longed to lean forward and lick it, but held himself back. Ron worked himself harder now, one hand flying over his prick – lubricated with my own come, Draco realized with a start – and the other between his legs, distractedly toying with his balls.
Draco leaned back slightly just to take in the whole picture. It was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen, and he wanted to imprint it on his memory forever. Just in case...
Unable to help himself, and knowing this whole thing would be over in a few short seconds, Draco ran his fingertips lightly over Ron's straining thighs, sliding around to tentatively cup his arse just as Ron's fist sped to a blur. Ron came with a shout and Draco instinctively dug his fingers into the leather-clad muscle of Ron's arse.
With a grunt, Ron heaved himself off Draco's lap and slowly started putting his clothes back in order.
"Did I manage to convince you, then?" he asked at length.
"That I'm good enough to get you off the way you do for me. Or no, don't tell me, I knew I'd be rubbish." He stalked to the other side of the small room and stared angrily out the tiny window.
Draco slowly cleaned himself up and laced his trousers, mulling over this garbled pronouncement. So Ron had thought he was unworthy to pleasure Draco? It made a lot of sense, and Draco realized with a small shock that this was the way he would have seen it, too, if his obsession hadn't been clouding his mind so thoroughly.
And the obsession hadn't remotely been satisfied, when it came down to that. This new development only made Draco want more. With the thought of having Ron's cock buried deep inside him – and how easy it could be to achieve this, if he only forgot his inconvenient pride for a little while longer – Draco strode across the room to face his partner.
"You weren't rubbish," he said, resting his hands on Ron's hunched shoulders. "Far from it, in fact." And then there wasn't anything left to say that wouldn't wound his pride beyond repair (it was foolish of me to doubt you was right out, and I'm sorry, give me a chance? was simply unthinkable), so he pulled Ron down into a hard, open-mouthed kiss. Ron kissed back instantly, hungrily, and Draco smoothed his hands down Ron's long back to rest on his arse once again.
With a good deal of luck, this just might work.