Title:  Not Necessarily Wanting Me

Author:  Lorien_Eve

Pairings:  Harry/Ron, Ron/Draco

Disclaimer:  All the characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling.  I dirtied them up a bit, but I promise to have them nice and clean when I give them back.

Spoilers:  Everything

Rating: PG – NC-17; this chapter is NC-17

Warnings: Kinky food sex. Don’t read if that squicks you.

Feedback:  I'd love some!

As he assumed, Fred and George aided Ron in his escape from Gryffindor Tower. Except for a few ghosts, the corridors were quiet and deserted. The kitchens were on the bottom floor, so he had a long way to go, but he hoped that his luck would hold out. Even with the Invisibility Cloak, he was careful. He didn’t know if it worked on ghosts or Mrs. Norris. And just because you were invisible, didn’t mean you weren’t solid.

Ron took a right at the staircase in the Entrance Hall and headed down the corridor. Up ahead, against the wall, he could see the faint outline a huge painting of a bowl of fruit. He stood and stared at it for a minute. He knew easily enough how to get in, but though he was looking forward to the meeting with Malfoy, he was nervous. He didn’t know how to explain it to the house elves, and he was sure that Dobby would feel it was his duty to tell Harry what he saw. Then he remembered that he had on the cloak. If the house elves were still working, he’d wait for Malfoy outside and suggest they go somewhere else. He tickled the pear, listened as it giggled, and watched as it turned into a green door handle.

He pulled the portrait open and peered inside. There were a couple of lit torches, but the room was so cavernous, they did little to provide adequate light. Copper pots and pans hung down from the ceiling in large clusters, highlighted at their curves by the flicker of torchlight.

It was quiet, too. Something that both surprised Ron and relieved him at the same time. He stepped in carefully, making sure not to catch the cloak in the door as he shut it. There were no house elves, or none that he could see. Then someone stepped out of the shadows.

“Take off Potter’s damn cloak,” said Draco, looking a few feet over to Ron’s right.

“Couldn’t you have picked a better place?” asked Ron irritably, sliding off the cloak and throwing in on a nearby table. “Gryffindor Tower’s on the other side of the bloody castle.”

Draco shrugged. “The kitchens are close to the Slytherin dungeons. I’m not risking my neck with another detention because of you.” He paused, then smirked. “But I see that you showed, anyway.”

“Well…yeah,” said Ron. He gave up trying to retain any dignity by lying.

Draco laughed in selfish delight and walked right past Ron, over to a row of large cupboards.

“Where are the house elves?” wondered Ron, not wanting one of the little servants popping up in the middle of what he hoped would be a promising night.

“I got rid of them,” said Draco. “Just because that one…what’s his name?…Duddy, doesn’t work for my family anymore, doesn’t mean he won’t take a threat seriously.”

“You threatened Dobby?” asked Ron, growing protective. Dobby could be annoying at times, granted at most times, but he always looked after Harry, and Ron liked him pretty well for a house elf.

“Threatened him and paid him,” said Draco. “He’s cheap, really. A knut will shut him up for a month.”

“Harry’ll be really pissed if you’ve done anything to him…”

“Enough talk, Weasley. Disrobe,” commanded Draco, cutting him off and opening the cupboard door. He scanned the shelves, studying the assortment of items.

Ron removed his robe and placed it on the table next to Harry’s cloak. Draco retrieved a glass jar from the cupboard and turned around. “All of it, Weasley. I want you naked.”

Ron stared at for a minute, but Draco didn’t react, so he turned his back and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t know why you turned away,” said Draco. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before. You’re much better looking out of those ratty clothes.”

Ron spun back around to look at Draco. His shirt was unbuttoned, but still on, and the tail of it flew out behind him.

“My clothes are not ratty,” he said defensively. His family’s income had always been a sore spot for him, but with his dad’s new position, he was quite proud of the new clothes he had purchased before going back to school.

Draco raised an eyebrow and scanned Ron’s figure. He gave a disagreeing grunt. “Take them off. You’re going to be sticky by the time I’m finished with you.”

Ron eyed him wearily, but took off the rest of his clothes and laid them next to his robe and the cloak.

“Much better,” said Draco, as he moved closer. “Now lay down on the table.”

Ron chose a table to his right, wanting to keep his clothes, and Harry’s cloak, as clean and free of evidence as possible. He hopped on the table and drew his knees up to his chest. He still wasn’t comfortable being naked around Malfoy, and the partial erection he already had only made him more self-conscious.

Draco sensed Ron’s nervousness and decided to toy with him for a minute. “I need you laying flat, spread out. I’m not reaching between your ankles for your cock.”

Ron flushed, but laid back slowly, still keeping his knees bent.

“Spread them!” said Draco, giving Ron a sharp slap on the thigh.

Ron reluctantly complied, though he closed his eyes in embarrassment and hoped for the best. His legs were stretched out on the length of the table and he kept his arms closely at his side. He felt like he was being prepped for a Muggle operation.

Draco circled the table slowly, taking inventory. He slid a finger along the pale, freckled arm and down the slim, muscular legs. Picking up the glass jar he had gotten from the cupboard and stepping one foot into a chair, he climbed up on the table. He sat between Ron’s legs, resting on his haunches. Ron lifted his head and looked down at him, feeling unsure.

“Lay back down,” said Draco, as he unscrewed the lid. “It won’t hurt. Too much.”

It was a very unfrightening jar of orange marmalade, and the only flavored thing Draco could find that might also work as a lubricant. He dipped four fingers into the jar, but pulled them out with a disgusted look on his face. It was cold and gooey and sticky. But it had a role to play in his fantasy, and he soon hoped to have the gelatin substance on Weasley and off of himself.

Ron felt something cold and slick grip the base of his cock. He gasped and lifted his back off the table. He felt fingers curling around him and moving upward, pressing firmly, just barely avoiding being painful. The hand left, but returned a few seconds later. It was still cold and slick. He wondered what Malfoy was rubbing on him.

“What is that stuff?” he asked, lifting his head a little.

“It’s marmalade,” said Draco, sounding slightly disappointed. “It was all I could find on short notice.” He stroked Ron a few more times. “That should do it,” he said, leaning back. “Okay, Weasley, now we play a little game.”

Ron lifted his head again. He wasn’t so sure he would like Draco’s idea of a game.

“It’s simple enough for even you to understand,” said Draco, removing his shirt and pulling his trousers off. “You suck me, and I suck you. Got it?”

Ron swallowed and nodded. He’d never done this before. He wasn’t even sure if he could do it properly. But he’d never let Malfoy know that he was inexperienced.

Draco shifted around and so that his knees were on each side of Ron’s head. He lowered the upper part of his body so that he was resting on his elbows, with his face just above Ron’s groin. “I hope it’s not too big for you,” he said as he brought his cock down near Ron’s mouth.

In a silent answer, Ron grabbed Draco’s cock and shoved it into his mouth. Draco gasped in surprise at the sudden instigation. Ron gagged a time or two, not prepared for what it would feel like or taste like. After a few seconds, he grew accustomed to it. It felt strange, having a cock in his mouth, but it tasted almost like Malfoy smelled, with a faint addition of sweat and come.

Draco quickly recovered and bent down to take Ron’s cock. The marmalade was cheap, nothing that he would’ve ever eaten at Malfoy Manor. He didn’t even like orange marmalade. It was too bitter and not thick enough. But he ignored the generic quality and wrapped his lips around the flesh beneath it, sucking in quick, firm strokes.

Ron had never had anyone do this to him. Draco had played with him before, licking him and teasing, but this feeling, having his cock surrounded by a warm, wet mouth was something he hadn’t experienced before. It was better than he ever imagined. There was a persistent tugging at the base of his cock, pulling the rest of it upward, and he could feel his skin being pulled taunt with the suction.

Draco had his suspicions that Ron had never sucked anyone off before. He knew for a fact that Ron had been a virgin until the night of the Samhain Festival. He caught on quickly, though, Draco mused. This was one of the better blowjobs that he had ever had. Weasley was eager, which was always a plus, and he took Draco hungrily, forcefully, like he had something to prove. Draco would have to advise him to be careful with his teeth. But that could wait. Right now, all Draco could feel was a tongue licking at the underside of his cock, while Ron pulled the rest of him deep in his mouth.

When Draco’s lips hit the base of Ron’s cock, he sucked in sharply and started humming. A few globs of marmalade slipped from his lips, but he sucked those up as well and swallowed them, contracting the muscles in his throat. He felt Ron’s lips go slack, though he knew his own cock was still in Weasley’s mouth. He hummed again, deeper this time, forcing the tip of Ron’s cock down the back of his throat.

Ron quit sucking on Draco. He couldn’t think anymore. His mouth hung open, and even with the wet, swelled erection hanging inside it, all Ron could focus on was the hot mouth and tongue that were closed around him. He raised his hips and groaned, needing more, painfully wanting to come.

Draco relaxed his grip on Ron, letting the orange-flavored appendage slip from his sticky lips. “Not yet, Weasley. I came here for one thing, and I’m not leaving until I get it.”

Draco climbed off the table and walked over to a wooden counter that had a large supply of fruit stacked on it. He looked over it for a moment before leaning down and searching the cabinets underneath. He pulled out a large clear flask with a glass stopper at the top. He took it in one hand, and glancing again at the assortment of fruit, he plucked a banana from the bunch.

“Now,” he said, climbing back on the table and setting the flask and banana down beside him, “raise your legs. I’m tired of waiting.”

Ron eyed the banana carefully. He had a really bad feeling about it. “What—what are you going to do with that?”

“What do you think I’m going to do with it? I didn’t chose it because of its flavor, you prat.”

“I—I don’t want that in me,” Ron stuttered again, becoming even more nervous.

“So it’s okay for me to be in you, but not an innocent piece of fruit?” asked Draco in a mocking voice. He slapped the banana against the palm of his hand. “C’mon, Weasley, you know you want it.”

Ron couldn’t deny that the wanted it. But ‘it’ didn’t include ripe, yellow produce. “No, Malfoy, I’m not doing it.”

“You’ll do it and like it!” yelled Draco, leaning down and getting in Ron’s face. Ron seemed shocked, but his eyes looked angry and offended. Draco knew force wasn’t the way to handle the situation. Merlin knew why, but Weasley had almost as much pride as he did. He’d have to try something else.

“I promise,” he spoke softly, suddenly changing his temperament. He placed his lips gently on Ron’s neck, “you’ll like it.” He kissed down to Ron’s collarbone. “Just do this,” he sucked on the skin around his shoulder, drawing in between his lips, “for me.” He licked his tongue over the purple mark he left there. “It’ll be worth it.”

Ron surrendered. His cock was aching, and although he knew he could’ve stroked it a few times and gotten off, wanking didn’t compare to having Malfoy fuck him. “Okay,” he forced himself to say, though his voice was heavy and broken, “but you’d better be quick about it.”

Draco smiled and bit into Ron’s shoulder. Weasley was so easy. Draco sat up and grabbed the flask. “Raise your legs,” he said.

Ron did as Draco instructed, lifting his legs so that his knees rested on his chest.

Draco raised the flask over Ron’s stomach, but Ron stopped him. “What the hell is that stuff?”

“Cooking oil. But,” Draco continued when Ron opened his mouth to protest, “it was the only suitable lubricant I could find. That wasn’t sticky,” he added, looking disdainfully at the jar of marmalade.

Ron was irritated at the whole arrangement. Draco sensed this, and quickly reverted to Plan C. He licked his own finger and lowered it, rubbing it against Ron’s exposed entrance. He watched as Ron closed his eyes in anticipation, then he pushed in, wiggling around, watching as Ron’s doubt was smoothed away by the insertion.

Draco pulled out slowly, letting his finger linger just inside the muscular ring. He felt Ron contracting against him in response, and he chuckled before pulling out entirely.

“You will learn the virtues of patience,” said Draco in a low voice, as he picked up the flask again. He tilted it over Ron’s stomach so that it would run down into the deep red curls of his pubic hair. Draco wanted him as slick as possible. He watched as the pale liquid formed downward trails, disappearing in the mass of hair.

Draco poured a small amount into his hand and watched it leak around the spaces between his fingers, dripping down in long streams. Taking a slick hand, he ran it up the crevice between Ron’s cheeks. Ron moaned appreciatively and thrust downward, wanting more stimulation.

Draco snatched up the banana and drizzled some oil on the brown freckled surface. He slicked it up with his hand, spreading the lubricant around, ensuring that it covered the entire length.

“If you protest,” he whispered, “I’ll expose you to the whole school.” He slid the very tip of the banana in, giving Ron the time to object. When he didn’t, Draco pushed more, watching yellow being swallowed by red and swollen pink.

“You’re so agreeable,” Draco said, rubbing the back of one of Ron’s thighs. He pulled the banana out, only leaving the green tip in, and leaned over so that his face was close to Ron’s.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he whispered in Ron’s ear.

“Just give it to me,” hissed Ron. He was tired of being teased and he was tired of Draco’s game

Draco shoved the banana in suddenly and Ron let out a cry. “We play by my rules,” he said. “Tell me that you want it, and I’ll give it to you.”

Ron was hurting. His cock was throbbing and his balls were aching and there was a dull pressure in his arse. He had his pride, but although he hated to admit it, it was gone now. It had left the moment Draco presented the marmalade. “Okay, fine. I want it. I want it bad. Will you give it to me?”

Draco lifted himself so that he was looking Ron in the face. A cocky smile spread across his lips. He pulled the banana out, but traced circles around the ring of muscle with the small, ripe tip. “You didn’t say the magic word.”

In a school where magic words were taught, uttered, yelled, whispered, screamed, and spoken every day, Ron was almost at a loss. Knowing Malfoy, he would pick some improbable word that Ron couldn’t have found even with a dictionary. Ron remembered something that his mum had always said to him, though how her voice came to him at a time like this, he’d never know. “Please?” he asked timidly.

Draco grinned and swiped his tongue over Ron’s parted lips. “Very good. Ten points to Gryffindor and a Slytherin fuck for your troubles.” Draco had actually been thinking of the word ‘onomatopoeia,’ but he would accept whatever answer Weasley was giving.

He tossed the banana away and grabbed for the flask. He threw the stopper over his shoulder and let the oil pour freely onto his red, swollen, and basically unattended cock. He lubed himself up with a few strokes, moaning against his own touch, hoping that one day he could teach Weasley to stroke him that way. He pushed against the back of Ron’s knees so that his hips rose in accommodation.

“This,” grunted Draco, as he pushed his cock in, “is what you came for. And you’ll come before you leave.”

Ron nodded and tried to relax. Malfoy was thick, and no matter how many times they had been together, Ron always had to give himself time to adjust. He tried to concentrate, loosening up his muscles so that entry would be less painful for both of them.

Draco slid farther in, though he took it slow. Ron groaned and winced below him, but Draco became impatient. This night had gone on longer than he had expected. He needed release, and he needed it soon. He braced himself on Ron’s knees, then pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. He wasn’t gentle or careful that time. It was forceful and demanding, and although he told himself that he didn’t care, he secretly hoped that Weasley was ready for it.

“Oh…Malfoy…God,” said Ron, though Draco couldn’t tell if it was an indication of pain or pleasure or both.

“God and I are one and the same,” he grunted, thrusting again and searching for that release.

“Yes, please,” murmured Ron, mostly to himself, not fully aware that anyone else in the room could hear him. He grabbed blindly for his cock, needing to get off, and wanting to float back to Earth where he hoped his mental faculties would be reinstated.

When Draco found Ron’s prostate, Ron cried out. His whole body felt the shock. He started stroking himself faster, jerking his cock haphazardly. He felt Draco pulling out then shoving back in, barely giving him enough time to catch his breathe between the assaults.

Draco was done with his game. It had been fun, but he was bored with it. This was all about him now, his needs and his pleasure, just like everything else in his life. He drove recklessly into Ron with powerful thrusts, making sure to hit that certain spot each time. Weasley’s body was tight around him, and each time he pushed in and pulled back out, he groaned in pleasure, knowing that his orgasm was quickly approaching.

Below him, he heard Ron cry out again and knew that he had come. Lucky bastard. Draco was close, very close, but not there yet. Weasley was shifting beneath him, probably sore and uncomfortable, but Draco wasn’t letting him up until he was finished.

“I’m not…done with you…yet…Weasley,” gasped Draco. He gripped Ron’s calves firmly and pushed down on them so that his hips rose up slightly.

The adjustment and shifting of weight put pressure on Ron’s chest, making it hard for him to breathe. In the amber light given off by the torches, he could see Draco’s face hovering over him. His eyes were closed and his face was drawn up in complete need and determination. His hair looked yellow, not the usual pale blonde that made him so easy for Ron to spot. It had come loose tonight, falling around the sides of his face and down into his eyes. Ron thought he looked much nicer this way.

Ron watched as Malfoy’s eyes closed tighter. He bit down on his bottom lip, and Ron knew he was about to come. The moans became louder and quicker, and finally Draco groaned loudly. In that same instant, Ron felt a surge of warm liquid filling him.

Draco’s head drooped and he was panting, trying to find his breath while his whole body went limp. With weak arms, he lifted himself off Ron and sat back. He rubbed over Ron’s arse and upper thighs, noting the red irritation even in the dim room. Before he could say anything, Ron lowered his legs and slid off the table.

He stretched, his body stiff from being in that cramped position for so long. He went over to the table where he had left his robes and clothes. Fishing his wand out of one of the pockets, he cast a cleaning spell and started to dress.

Draco found his own clothes lying in a pile on the floor. Wearing a wrinkled uniform showed a complete lack of interest in one’s appearance, and Draco scolded himself for not being more careful. It was that bloody Weasley’s fault. But at least it was dark and the dungeons weren’t far away. He had almost rather sit through an entire day of Care of Magical Creatures than to have anyone see him looking less than perfect.

“When can I expect another message?” asked Ron, hoping he didn’t sound as eager as he felt.

“When I have time,” said Draco as he buttoned his shirt. “I have things to do, and not all of them include you. I attend school to learn, Weasley, not to ensure that your libido is properly maintained.”

“I never hear you complaining while your cock is stuck up my arse,” said Ron. He had lost enough dignity tonight, and although he was afraid it was impossible, he wanted to try to get some of it back.

“That’s because I’m too busy trying to teach you the finer points of fucking,” said Draco, pulling his arms through his robes.

“You’re not as great as you think you are,” said Ron. It was a lie, but the only comeback he could think of.

“Of course I am.” Draco grinned, opened the portrait hole, and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

****

Ron crept back up to Gryffindor tower, hoping that his dorm mates, and especially Harry, were fast asleep. He removed Harry’s cloak and put it back in the trunk, hoping that Harry wouldn’t notice it had been taken. He breathed a sigh of relief when no one stirred as he pulled back the red curtains and crawled into bed. He didn’t bother closing his eyes; he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

He looked over at Harry, whose face he could just see through the parting of the drapes. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open, breathing in night and dreams and sleep.

He wanted Harry so bad. Malfoy made him feel good, sure, but Harry was completely different. Harry meant everything to him – sexually, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, insanely. But Harry would never belong to him, no matter how hard he wished it. Malfoy wasn’t Harry, but he wasn’t bad, either. It was the best he could do, and he wasn’t going to complain about it. Well, not too much. He shut his eyes, trying to fool his mind into sleep.

Harry raised his eyelids slowly, peeking out over his lashes. He made sure that Ron was in bed before closing them again.