Draco stared at him. "When I said we could try kink, I was thinking you'd want bondage or role-play. Possibly whips and cross-dressing. I was not expecting this."

Ron waved the jeans he was holding. "It's my turn to choose something kinky for us to do. I indulged you, you predictable little exhibitionist, so get into these and do your thing."

Draco scowled, but obeyed, sending a thrill through Ron's chest. Draco opened his robes and let them fall to the floor, standing naked under sunlight that caressed his pale skin. He paused, obviously hoping his nudity would distract Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes and gestured at him. "Into the jeans."

Draco huffed, muttering, but obeyed. He stood there glowering in his Muggle jeans. The vulnerability in Draco's bare feet and mussed hair and defensively crossed arms – and more than that, in the clatter as he let his wand fall – made something twist in Ron's chest. But he crossed his arms back, waiting to see if Draco would play along.

"So...?" he said slowly.

Draco snapped, "I'm a filthy Muggle. Okay? You're superior."

Ron jerked his wand, and Draco yelped at the sensation of a phantom cane thwacking his bottom.

"That was just a warning. Next time it'll be on bare skin."

Draco flinched a little, but his eyes stayed defiant, his mouth twisted mulishly.

"D'you need me to prove it?" Ron said, pointing his wand warningly. "Remember, I can do what I want with you. You don't have magic to protect you."

"Fine," Draco said through gritted teeth. With a visible effort, he bent his head and put his hands behind his back. "You're – you're inherently superior. You're a pureblood and I'm just a Muggle."

"A filthy Muggle," Ron prompted. "I wouldn't even have to try to have you."

Draco nodded, although the tension in his shoulders said he wasn't ready to surrender. Ron liked that. He liked the struggle, fighting for superiority – but every once in a while, after a lifetime of being not quite as good, it was lovely to know he wouldn't even have to try. He'd watch Draco struggle futilely – watch him flush with the effort, swear and struggle and be subdued. He'd win so easily, and do just as he pleased with Draco.

The thought sent a shiver through him.

"Go on," he prompted.

"I don't know what you – "

"Yes you do."

Draco glowered.

Ron couldn't resist coming forward, and cupping the base of Draco's skull with his empty left hand. Draco raised his head in reaction, scowling heavily up at him. "Weasley..."

Ron smiled and played a little with the soft, ruffled hair at the back of Draco's head, before he touched the tip of his wand to the soft flesh below Draco's chin. He tightened his fingers in Draco's hair, holding him still, as he pressed the wooden point tighter against him.

Nervousness bloomed in Draco's pale eyes.

"Let's try that again, shall we? Or did you want to see some magic?"

Draco swallowed against the pressure of Ron's wand, his expression mutinous. But then Ron nudged his knee forward – just a little – and found an unmistakable erection between Draco's legs.

Draco sucked his breath in at the light contact, his pupils dilating. "All right."

Ron slid the wand back, gentling his grip on Draco's hair. Draco slipped to his knees. The rough denim half-covered his bare feet.

Ron wheezed in a sucker-punched breath at the sight of Draco in his Muggle jeans, staring up, shirtless, wandless, on his knees.

Maybe it was a weird kink, but it was melting his brain.

Draco reached for the laces of Ron's robes, but he pulled out of reach. He wasn't quite ready for the main event yet, despite how hard he was at the sight of Draco's uncertain grey eyes peering from behind his fringe. He wanted to enjoy this fully.

Ron paced, circling Draco where he knelt. He watched the muscles of Draco's back tense a little as Ron walked out of his eyeline: much as Draco trusted him (enough to be wandless before him, and the thought was hot honey pooling pleasantly in Ron's stomach) he wasn't quite sure of Ron's intentions.

"Are you afraid, Muggle? I could do anything with you... move you and twist you and change you, mould you to my whim." Draco's pale, narrow body shivered. "And you couldn't stop me, could you?"

Draco's faster breathing was the only response. Ron jerked his wand, and a faint red line appeared across Draco's shoulders. He flinched.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question."

"Er," Draco said, audibly fumbling for an authentically 'dirty-Muggle' response. "I. No, I couldn't – couldn't stop you."

"No magic for you."

"No," Draco said, his voice quiet now. "No magic."

Ron didn't want to push him too far.

He stopped in front of Draco's face, so close that Draco had to strain his neck to meet his eyes. Ron's cock was a visible bulge, crudely close to Draco's mouth; but he touched Draco's face gently. Draco had agreed to play out this fantasy – but all pureblood children, until they used their first accidental magic, worried that they'd be the Squib.

He felt Draco lean into his touch as he stroked Draco's sharp jawline. "It's all right. I'll take care of you."

Draco looked up at him with limpid eyes, and Ron grinned at him. "If you obey me."

Draco's face twisted in reaction. Ron smiled still more widely and opened his robes one-handed, keeping a hold on his wand. His cock was straining, and the warm thrill of Draco's mouth was so close, but Ron didn't move. He didn't want to force this apparently helpless boy.

After a few moments of silence, Draco's eyes flickered up to his. Ron kept his face blank: he wasn't going to help Draco by ordering him, or grabbing his head. Draco was going to have to choose this all by himself.

The tension hung for only a moment before Draco leant forward.

Draco's mouth slipped open easily around the head of Ron's cock, his cheeks hollowing around it. Fucking gorgeous, and Ron's breath left him in stuttering shudders as Draco went to work. His eyes were shut, his eyelashes glinting against his cheekbones in the afternoon light.

He was beautiful, and the taut lines of his body relaxed as he sucked Ron's cock: Draco was used to this, and he knew he was good at it. Ron wanted anxiety; he wanted Draco hanging on his every movement.

He raised his wand.

At the spell, Draco's eyes flew open and he scrambled backwards.


"Don't what?" Ron felt very tall, grinning down at Draco crumpled on the floor, and light was sparking from his wand. "It's a spell to make light, that's all, little Muggle." Blue arched over Draco's head and cracked against the floor. "Might sting a little…" Purple caught Draco's shoulder, pinkening it. "But it's harmless."

Draco's bare chest was heaving, but his nipples were still hard, his cock bulging in his jeans. Ron crooked a finger, trying very hard to look calm and authoritative and not like he was desperate for Draco's mouth.

Draco swallowed, then crawled back to him.

"Good boy."

Ron rolled his wand in his fingers. He saw Draco register the movement from the corner of his eye, but then Draco just lowered his head again: like he was a Muggle, and frightened of magic because it was a kind of power he didn't have.

Draco took him in to the root, and Ron groaned, lust tightening along the small of his back as his orgasm rose. He sent lines of magical light coiling about Draco, green and blue, and saw Draco flinch.

Ron kept going as Draco's tongue flickered against his cock, turning the magic scarlet.

Ron played with Draco: his boyfriend's pale face was so expressive, and he flinched deliciously as magic prickled close to his face. The magic swirled and shifted in arcs of colour, while Draco flinched away from it. He was hunching his shoulders and moving his arms and trying to stay out of reach, deliciously wary of the power Ron spent spiralling about him. It was beautiful: a rainbow of magic swirling about Draco, a pale, vulnerable human body in the midst of bright streams of power.

Draco's eyes went wide, but Ron cupped a hand at the back of his head before Draco could pull back.

"Stay," Ron grunted. "Come on, Muggle, do your work." He held up his other hand, and sent magic curling brightly from his wand. "While I do my sorcery."

It was like being a grand old sorcerer in the old days, with Muggles intrigued by magic's mysteries and powers.

Draco kept going, sucking eagerly and moaning. He was pink in the face; he liked feeling pushed into things, Ron knew, so he kept talking: saying he had all the magic in the world, it was in Ron's very flesh, and he could make him beg –

Ron shuddered in orgasm; pleasure blanked his mind as the lights went gold.

He came back to himself to find Draco shivering, his eyes glazed, as he licked a smudge of Ron's come from his lips.

Ron groaned helplessly. Draco's head jerked up at the sound, and the moment their eyes met was electric.

"Go on," Ron said hoarsely. "Touch yourself."

Draco immediately fumbled with the jeans, his pale fingers working almost helplessly at them until he undid the button and the zip rolled down with a strange noise. Draco drew his reddened cock out and touched himself eagerly, moaning.

The soft, continuous sound parched Ron's throat with lust. Ron crashed to his knees in front of him, unable to resist, and wrapped a hand round Draco's cock as he kissed him. Draco's thighs and mouth opened for him. Draco wasn't resisting at all, just trusting him, letting Ron do as he liked with him.

Ron pushed magic through Draco, feeling him convulse as pleasure forced its way along his nerve endings. Draco's eyes rolled back as he came.

Ron looked at Draco, sprawled shamelessly in his come-stained jeans, his eyes bright. And held back any cheesy comments about magic.