Flare UpWord count:
Draco is still afraid of fire sometimes. Ron helps.Content:
Wax play, bondage & blindfold, some cuddly D/sAuthor’s Notes:
I thought I’d catch up on one of my Twelve Days of Christmas
ficlets. This one’s for my_thestral
, who requested ‘Ron/Draco, candlelight.’On AO3
Draco was still afraid of fire sometimes. Usually it was all right; he’d taught himself again that fire was a tool. He could control it, and if he was careful of it it wouldn’t hurt him. It didn’t all come with that vicious, ravening desire the Fiendfyre had, an urge to destruction that couldn’t be fought or reasoned with.
But he’d had a little scare earlier that day. He’d lit the candles by four o’clock thanks to the midwinter gloom; it was dark by half past. He was alone in the flat, Ron still at work, and a draft had caused a candle flame to flare. Draco had caught it out of the corner of his eye, a sudden sharp bright growth as if the fire had a mind of its own. He turned, catching his breath, but the little flame had already calmed.
It seemed silly enough that when Ron arrived home and asked how Draco’s work had gone and his day had been, Draco didn’t want to mention it. He smiled and said something innocuous. And soon Ron’s warm presence, his red hair and bright laugh, had pushed that little thump of dread out of Draco’s mind.
Or he thought it had. They settled onto the sofa after dinner, Ron with an Auror training text and Draco with a Quidditch magazine. Ron pointed his wand at the fireplace and a fireball appeared in the grate, calming a moment later into a peaceful crackling. Draco hoped his flinch hadn’t been visible.
A little while later, the fire flared up a little, sparks spitting. Draco’s knowledge that the fire guard meant it was safe didn’t matter; he felt himself flinch back. Ron must’ve felt the movement: he turned to look at Draco, and a moment later his eyes crinkled round the edges, soft and concerned. Draco felt himself flush. He raised his magazine sulkily, pretending none of it was happening. After a few moments Ron left the room without a sound. Draco lowered the magazine again, frowning.
Ron reappeared quickly. “You finished with that?”
Ron hitched one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve got something upstairs, if you want to play.”
A distraction. And Ron hadn’t made him ask for it; he wouldn’t let Draco be embarrassed that way. Draco smiled and followed him upstairs.
“Lie down,” Ron told him. “Naked.”
Draco obeyed. He glanced around the room as he did so, trying to guess what Ron was going to do. He couldn’t see any toys out. There were three soft lengths of rope, though. Ron didn’t like to use Incarcerous
on him; the ropes were too rough on Draco’s pampered skin. Ron flicked his wand and Draco found the ropes wrapping round his wrists and each ankle, stretching his body over the bed. His arms were drawn up over his head, his legs spread. Draco felt a moment of embarrassment at his exposure as Ron gave him a slow once-over, before it was drowned in the rising heat.
“Now I’ll blindfold you later, if you like,” Ron said. “But I want you decide once you know what’s happening. And I like having you obey me.”
Draco glanced a question. Ron smiled. He was stripping himself now, a little awkward as he pulled his jumper over his head. “You’re going to close your eyes.”
Draco felt a little shiver go through him at the soft command. He obeyed, biting his lip already as he promised himself he’d keep them shut. Even if the curiosity was killing him.
Soft footsteps against the carpet, and a wooden drawer opening and closing. Something from Ron’s chest of drawers? Draco should’ve embraced a Slytherin lack of respect for personal privacy earlier -- then he’d know. Ron muttered something, too softly for Draco to hear. A spell? He tensed a little, waiting, but nothing happened.
Then a shock of sensation against his chest: heat and a small sunburst of pain. He gasped, eyes opening. Ron was looking at him, eyes soft but intense, with his flaming wand in one hand and a blue candle in the other. Draco looked down at himself to discover a small splatter of wax on his chest.
He looked back up at Ron. Ron was eyeing him carefully, trying to read his reaction. “Is this okay?”
Fire under Ron’s control. Fire to give him carefully controlled pleasure and pain, if he could trust Ron to protect him from its rages. Draco’s throat was too tight to speak but he nodded, hoping Ron understood the look in his eyes.
He squeezed his eyes closed again, a little afraid of watching it happen. After a moment Ron spelled a blindfold onto him and Draco felt his shoulders relax a bit. There was nothing more to be done now; he’d just have to wait, and let Ron take his pleasure.
There was a pause. Draco’s own breathing was loud in his ears as it sped up. He wished Ron wasn’t so good at this sometimes, at getting to him, but his stomach was squirming with desire and anticipation, his cock hardening, and -
Draco jerked against the ropes as heat on his chest bloomed again. And again. A brief pause, just long enough to get his pulse rushing, and then a long stripe of wax splattered from his chest up his shoulder. Draco dropped his head backwards, leaving himself open to it, exposing his throat.
Heat of a different kind: Ron’s mouth on his neck, a sucking kiss at his Adam’s apple. It’d leave a mark. Draco made quiet, pleased sounds as Ron teased the sensitive skin; when Ron pulled back, he realised he’d been pulling at the ropes.
And then the wax returned. Draco moaned softly under the heat of it, the gentle application of slow-burning pain. It flushed through his skin in little shivers of pleasure. He was losing track of things, sinking into it, as Ron covered his chest and outstretched arms and the soft skin of his stomach with wax.
He convulsed as a drop hit his cock; it didn’t hurt too much, the wax just a little warm, but the shock of sensation rocked through him. Ron swore under his breath, the first time he’d spoken in a while. “Are you all right?”
It took Draco a moment to find the word, fuzzy with subspace as he was. “Yes.”
“Hmm. I think we’re finished here, even so.” Ron removed the blindfold with his hands, and Draco blinked up at him. Ron gestured grandly at his work. Draco looked down and found himself a riot of colour: Ron had left stripes and splashes and splatters in bright blue and grass green and deep pink from collarbone to stomach as well as down his arms, decorating Draco’s pale body where it was laid out for him. Ron cast a spell to release the ropes and leant in to kiss him. Draco met him passionately, reaching up to hold Ron to him, sliding his hands into Ron’s short hair and grabbing as best he could.
Ron let himself be pulled in, crawling down next to Draco. Draco moaned, pleased, as Ron’s warm skin was suddenly in reach, available for him to stroke and grab as they kissed.
Then Ron pulled back, laughing. “Wait, come on, we’re getting little bits of wax everywhere. Stop for a minute while I get this off you.”
“Ssh. Now hold still - this is a tricky spell, and if I get it wrong you might lose some hair.”
Draco went stiff as a board.
“Great. Now take a deep breath…”
It was oddly nice, actually. Holding still for Ron while he took care of him, removing the wax bit by bit. Holding his breath obediently and watching Ron’s eyes as they narrowed in concentration, travelling over Draco’s body.
Then it was finished. Ron slid his fingertips up Draco’s chest and Draco gasped; his skin had been left pink and sensitive by the wax. Ron fell on him and they dropped back into kissing. Draco bit at Ron’s lower lip, aggressive; Ron moaned, enjoying it, but then seemed to decide he was putting Draco back in his place for the night. Ron’s stroking hands in Draco’s hair began to pull, holding him deliciously in place while Ron kissed him and took what he wanted. Draco’s brain began to fuzz out again. The shifting muscles of Ron’s back under his hands, the low growl Ron made as he bruised Draco’s neck, the shuddering sensitivity the wax had left - it was a little overwhelming.
“Ah, Merlin,” Ron muttered, his touch stuttering against Draco’s skin. “Fuck me.”
Draco moaned, still kissing him. Ron tugged on his hair, pulling him away. “Come on, fuck me.”
The low, heated words vibrated through Draco’s body. Ron scrabbled in his bedside table and came up with the lube. It took Draco a moment to take it, distracted by Ron’s flush, his furry chest and hard cock. Ron made a grand gesture, grinning at him, and Draco obeyed: dropping down the bed, he slicked two fingers and slid them inside. Ron grunted as he did it, low and wanting, and Draco sucked in a breath, almost dizzy.
Face so close to Ron’s cock, he couldn’t help himself. He licked up Ron’s cock as he fingered him, opening him slowly. Then he fitted his mouth round Ron’s cock, sucking slowly as he slid another finger inside. Ron praised him a little incoherently as Draco moved. His fingers slid into Draco’s hair again, tightening as Draco scissored his fingers and filled his mouth with Ron’s cock.
“Uh - oh - no, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” Ron’s hands drew Draco away and up. He crawled up Ron’s body. “Yeah, up here. Yeah - ”
Draco groaned as he sank into Ron’s heat. Between the lingering burn of the wax and the heat of Ron’s body and the scorching of his blue eyes meeting Draco’s - it was like the fire was inside him now, merciless. Ron smoothed his hands down Draco’s arms, still sensitive from the wax, then stroked up his chest. Draco gasped, chest heaving under Ron’s hands, losing his rhythm. Ron gave a low chuckle, blue eyes lust-dark as he watched Draco’s reactions.
“Bastard - ” Draco choked out, then yowled as Ron scored his nails down his chest.
“I could get used to this.” Ron had one hand on his own cock, one hand relentlessly stroking and scratching and teasing at Draco’s abused chest.
They were both sweating, rocking together as the heat rose. Draco felt his stomach twist, and then orgasm hit, shuddering through him. He kept fucking Ron through it, pleasure blinding him, and felt more than heard Ron’s low cry as he came.
Draco barely found the energy to pull out and collapse back down, half on top of Ron. Ron wrapped an arm round him, and Draco buried his face in Ron’s skin so he could pretend he didn’t like it.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Draco said haughtily, wriggling a little closer.
“Of course,” Ron said, voice low and soft with sex and tiredness, and Draco glanced up to see him aiming his wand at the still-alight bedside candles. “Nox
.”This was originally posted at http://lokifan.dreamwidth.org/355920.html. Comment wherever you like :)