Punished and PinkWord count:
~400 (stupid competition word limit!)Characters/pairings:
Spanking porn: Draco’s been very rude to Hermione. I know, I’m horribly predictable.Warnings:
The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
So the ronbigbang
had an art drabbles competition – we picked a bit of Ron art, and wrote a drabble based on it. I found, um, some very pretty Ron/Draco art titled Punished and Pinned
. I think we can all guess what happened next: spanking porn!
“Don’t you dare
call her that again,” Ron growled as he dragged Draco’s top over his head. Draco’s head appeared from under the cloth, his hair ruffled and his face pink and cross.
“Don’t order me about.” Draco didn’t stop stripping. Ron kicked his own trousers off his ankles, stumbling and angrier because of it.
Draco had sworn
he would be polite. ‘Merlin strike me if I lie’ he’d said, holding a hand to his heart. Ron knew better than to believe him.
But he’d wanted to. Draco understood about a family that was the bedrock of your life, even when its members were thoughtlessly cruel or foolish. So –
“You said you were over the feud rubbish – ”
“I am!” Draco retorted. Ron could feel himself flushing as Draco threw himself onto the bed, careless, as if he’d abandoned all concern over the outside world along with his clothes. “You said I’d meet your family. Not your Mudblood ex.”
“That’s it!” Ron abandoned any thoughts beyond pinning Draco down and making him sorry
He lunged onto the mattress, not bothering to strip off his t-shirt. Ron put one hand firmly on the back of Draco’s neck, holding him down as he shifted in confusion. Then he brought the other down with a ringing smack on Draco’s backside.
Draco jerked. “Weasley!”
Ron did it again.
And then kept doing it. Draco spluttered into the pillow but he didn’t fight– just squirmed enough that it was satisfying to hold him down.
His hands were big: made for slapping that ripe arse. Draco’s flesh quivered satisfyingly with each hit. Soon overlapping pink handprints covered his arse in blaring marks of possession.
Draco flinched from the slaps at first; but as Ron kept going and the sounds filled the air, he seemed to be simply moving with them, his arse presented nicely for warming at Ron’s hands.
Draco was making soft huffs of discomfort now. Ron felt only triumph in punishing him successfully. In being the authority.
But then he made a different noise, a pained grunt like he might cry. Ron stopped, feeling the slight ache in his arm, his hand resting thoughtfully on Draco’s blazing arse.
“You’re stopping?” There was a thread of unease in Draco’s voice.
Ron leant closer, and pressed a kiss to Draco’s pale flank as he ran his hot hand soothingly up Draco’s other side. The contrast between the heat of Draco’s spanked cheeks and the smooth skin of his back was intoxicating. “For now.” He drew his hand back to Draco’s arse, and squeezed it, drawing a delicious whimper up Draco’s throat. “If you say you’re sorry, we can get to the reward-for-being-a-good-boy part.”
A tiny pause.
Ron laughed, low and deep like a lion’s purr, and shifted onto his knees. Nice to be in charge for once.