“’m not gay.”
“What’s that? Another whiskey?”
Ron looked up from his glass and blinked at the bartender. “Uh, sure,” he muttered as he shifted on the stool. He was on his way to ‘so pissed that the world was spinning’ but had only reached ‘enough alcohol to make everything a bit hazy’.
The pub was too small for the number of people who were there. He should have Apparated to Diagon Alley, but he'd been so stunned after leaving Hermione’s flat that he’d just wandered into the nearest pub, which happened to be Muggle and crowded.
It was so like Hermione to live in some rundown Muggle area instead of a proper wizarding section of London. As he looked at his drink, it occurred to him that he didn't know how he was going to pay for his drinks since the pub wasn’t likely to accept galleons or knuts. If he had to, he could always duck into the loo and Apparate home before it came time to settle his tab. That’s the same thing as stealing, Ronald. Don’t be stupid.
Ron groaned when he heard Hermione’s nagging voice in his head. It should have been his first clue that they weren’t compatible when her voice began to replace his mum’s when he needed a verbal scolding. Well, no, actually, his first clue should have been how awkward sex had been since that seemed to be when they realized they were good with the lust but not so much with the actual shagging.
If he looked back on it now, he should have known better. Hermione had become his friend again and it had been too easy to forget their few fumbling encounters. Being with Hermione was just something he’d thought he'd wanted for years, and it was just in his head that they’d eventually end up together.
He rubbed the heel of his hand against his left eye as if it would rub away what he’d seen tonight. When that didn’t help, he picked up the glass and drank it down in one go. It stung as it went down his throat but it did make him stop thinking of that. He still couldn’t believe she was shagging his brother. His brother!
It was bad enough that all his plans for the future had crumbled at his feet when he found out that she was seeing someone. It was worse to pop into her flat to surprise her and find her bent over the sofa with Charlie fucking her from behind. He’d been too stunned to interrupt and had simply gawked as Charlie had her making noises Ron didn’t even know she could make. He’d finally squeaked when Charlie started talking dirty, things that would have gotten him a good slap to the back of the head, and she was all whimpering as if it was the best thing she’d ever heard.
It was really unfair for her to not only shag his brother, his favorite brother, no less, but to let him get away with saying all that shite that would have gotten him a ‘Language, Ronald!’. They’d looked up, saw him standing there watching, and he’d looked away, making a face when he heard them finishing. It was nearly as bad as catching his bloody parents shagging!
There’d been a row after that, of course. He’d glared at Charlie, who looked far too smug and didn’t seem to know that sitting around naked just wasn’t on, and he’d glared at Hermione, who seemed to think a thin robe would make him forget what he’d seen. Well, maybe Charlie hadn’t been that smug, but Ron was sure he had to be pretty bloody full of himself for the way she was making all those noises as if his cock was the best thing since Hogwarts: A History.
It had been during their fight when Hermione had growled and shocked him into silence. You’re being a prat, Ronald! Besides, what does it matter who I shag? You’re gay! Ron had gaped at her, too shocked to say anything. Charlie, the git, had made them tea, which had been pretty damn good, which was just that much more irritating, while Hermione had sat next to him and played with his hair in that way she did with him and Harry like they were big kittens and needed petted.
He’d denied it. He wasn’t gay. That was just one of those Big Things that he’d know. He might not know a lot but fancying blokes wasn’t something he’d likely forget. But he’d sat in silence as she made her case, and he hadn’t been able to deny any of it. Even when it got personal and his cheeks had turned bright red at the thought that Charlie was listening to the fact that he preferred blow jobs and wasn’t really interested in her messy girly bits, though her breasts were really fun to play with, and that he’d been caught with an erection after ogling Neville’s arse.
Hermione had given him a biscuit and told him it was okay that he liked men before she’d hugged him. He’d stammered and stuttered before finally eating the biscuit and thinking about what she’d said. By the time he’d finally left her flat, he’d been confused and didn’t know what the bloody hell to think.
The pub saved him from having to think, which was great. If he was drunk enough, he could just forget everything that happened tonight. It wasn’t that he was ashamed that he preferred men, since he couldn’t really deny that anymore, even to himself, it was that he didn’t know what to do. Denial and alcohol were a good way to deal with tonight.
“’m not gay,” he told his fresh glass of whiskey. He stared at it as if expecting an answer but only heard Hermione’s voice telling him that he needed to stop drinking.
“Well, that’s news. I suppose I’ll have to alert the Alumni Newsletter Committee since there were several wagers regarding that matter,” a voice drawled lazily from beside him.
Ron blinked and looked over, scowling when he saw the pompous pointy face smirking at him. “There will be no alerts, Malfoy,” he muttered in his best ‘fuck off’ voice. “Fuck off.”
Well, it was better to be blunt with Malfoy since the bastard didn’t ever seem to recognize tones or looks like normal people. When Hermione’s voice said Don’t be rude, Ron, his mental voice told her to shut the fuck up and go back to doing whatever it was she was doing with Charlie.
“I see that alcohol doesn’t improve your manners, Weasley,” Malfoy said with a snort before he sat down on the stool next to Ron’s. “You’ve no need to worry about an owls being sent off by me. I’d hate to be accused of lying.”
Ron glared at him before his eyes widened as he understood. “Hey now, wait a minute!”
“You’ll never be accused of being a genius,” Malfoy decided before he held out several bills and motioned the bartender over. “Take this and keep them coming. Get him another, too.”
“You’re buying me a drink?” Ron asked suspiciously, watching the bartender closely to make sure it wasn’t being drugged.
“Do you have Muggle money?” Draco asked smugly. “I doubt Granger would appreciate you running out on your tab, though feel free so I can tell her all about it at work on Monday.”
“You’re a prat.”
“I suppose that’s a step up from bastard.”
“You’re one of those, too, only worse because you’re arrogant.”
“You say arrogant like it’s a bad thing.”
“Bugger off.”
“Let me consider that request…..No.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? You do realize this place is Muggle, yeah? That means, all these people are Muggles.”
“I was in the neighborhood. As for the Muggles, I don’t care.”
“Ha!”
“Fine. I might care, a little, but only because they smell and they’re odd. Now shut up and drink.”
Ron frowned but took a drink anyway, after giving it enough time so Malfoy would know he wasn’t obeying his snotty command. He stared at the whiskey and sighed. It wasn’t bad enough that his plans for the future were ruined by Hermione and her need to actually shag someone who was into girls or that he’d been faced with a sexual identity crisis at twenty-four, which was just bloody ridiculous, but now he had Malfoy to contend with.
“Stop pouting.”
“’m not pouting,” Ron denied as he glared at Malfoy. He wasn’t drunk enough to ignore him but he was too drunk to actually verbally spar with him as they normally did. “I didn’t ask you to join me while I wallow in being replaced so I’m going to ignore you now.”
After his declaration, he motioned for another drink. It would be his fifth, which meant things would get nice and fuzzy real soon. He glanced over and saw that Malfoy had already caught up with him. He arched a brow but didn’t comment on how fast Malfoy was drinking.
“So you finally figured out Granger was shagging Weasley Number Two.”
“His name is Charlie,” Ron told him sharply. “Wait, how the fuck did you know?”
Malfoy snorted. “How did you not?” He looked at Ron and smirked. “God, Weasley. She’s been with him since the twins’ Christmas party. You can’t really be that surprised.”
“Not all of us are nosy gossips that keep track of people,” he mumbled as he glared again, for good measure, before looking at his drink. “Has it really been that long?”
“She came into work after New Years with a book on dragons and a big ‘I’ve been shagged rotten and can barely sit down’ smile on her face,” Malfoy said matter-of-factly. “It was disgusting and I’m still scarred. Granger just shouldn’t do things like that! It upsets the balance of the world and means I can’t tease her because her boyfriend is bloody huge and would knock me out for looking at her wrong. I don’t like having to be nice to her.”
“Now who’s pouting?” Ron pointed out smugly before he finished off his fifth glass. He shuddered as he thought about earlier. “Well, at least you didn’t walk in on them shagging like horny rabbits. Disturbing is an understatement.”
Malfoy choked on his drink and coughed before he started to laugh. “Oh, bloody hell! That’s even better than I expected. That’s just priceless.”
“Bugger off,” Ron said for he thought might have been the hundredth time in the last half hour. Malfoy didn’t listen, of course. He was too busy snickering. Ron started on his sixth glass, not able to think of anything at the moment to shut Malfoy up, though he knew he’d think of many things when he was sober again. That’s how it always happened. “It’s not that funny.”
“Yes, it is,” Malfoy said happily as he sipped some fruity drink this time. He was tapping his foot on the bottom of his stool and looking around curiously. “So what did she say when she caught you spying like some lecherous pervert?”
“I wasn’t spying! I Apparated in, which makes lots of noise,” he told Malfoy as he rubbed his eyes. “They were just too, uh, well, they weren’t listening.”
“Granger’s a screamer, huh? Guess that’s not too surprising considering how much she talks,” Malfoy remarked. “Am a bit shocked that she stopped nagging and bossing people about long enough to shag but Weasley Number Two must be a great shag. Want a Screaming Orgasm?”
It was Ron’s turn to choke. He coughed and sputtered before he gaped at Malfoy. “What?”
Malfoy held up his new drink. “Want one?” he asked with a lazy smirk that didn’t seem nearly as obnoxious when his eyes were somewhat glazed and his face was flushed from too much alcohol. “Why, Weasley, what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” Ron muttered as his own face turned bright red beneath his freckles. It was difficult to follow Malfoy when he was completely sober so he was at a distinct disadvantage when he was this close to ‘pissed off his arse’.
Malfoy leaned closer, so close that Ron could feel his breath against his face and smelled of mint and some kind of vague fruit. It was just the alcohol that made Ron feel warm suddenly. He wasn’t sure what explained his cock stirring from a nice sleepy softness to ‘whoa, arousal, whee’ but he knew it had to be something other than Malfoy pressed against him.
“So are you?”
Ron turned his head and found Malfoy’s face far too close. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” he asked far more shrilly than intended. He watched Malfoy smile, but it wasn’t his usual ‘I’m a cold-hearted bastard and hate everyone, begone’ smile. No, it was almost…cute. Oh bloody buggering hell. He needed more whiskey. Or, no, that wasn’t right since it was too much alcohol, obviously, that had him staring at Malfoy’s lips and thinking really bad thoughts. Maybe he could blame Hermione. He liked to blame her for things whenever possible.
“You didn’t answer my question, Weasley,” Malfoy pointed out in far too firm a voice for someone who had drunk five glasses of whiskey and two weird Muggle drinks. He reached out and traced Ron’s lips. “Are you?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Ron stuttered, blinking stupidly when Malfoy’s finger scraped against his teeth while he spoke.
“Granger floo’d me,” Malfoy told him solemnly.
“What?”
“After you left her flat, she floo’d me and said you’d found her with Charlie. Yes, I know his name, you git. I am her partner, after all, even if I find her a nagging shrew most of the time. She said you looked shocked and she was worried,” he explained as he moved even closer.
“Why would she floo you?” Ron asked skeptically. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough to buy a close friendship between Malfoy and Hermione even if they did work as partners in their boring old research.
“She knew I’d find you and make sure you got home safe,” Malfoy muttered as he scowled at the bar and dropped his hand. “I used to be scary, you know? Now I’m stuck as messenger boy for a bloody Mud-Muggleborn.”
“You were never scary,” Ron told him. “You were too…just Malfoy to be scary.”
“You’re biased,” Malfoy announced as he sat back on his stool and pouted. “I was, too, scary.”
“For, what? The five minutes you were a Death Eater before you sought protection?” Ron shook his head and finished his drink. Thinking about the war, even when making fun of Malfoy’s ‘scariness’ was enough to nearly ruin his drunk oblivion. “Don’t wanna talk about that.”
“I need another drink,” Malfoy murmured as he motioned the bartender over. “Way to ruin things, Weasley.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I was just trying to get into your trousers and you had to bring up the war.”
“You’re the one who brought it---Wait, you were trying to---“
“Do you really think I’d surround myself by Muggles and bad music for a drink?”
“You’re drunk, Malfoy. You hate me, remember? Besides, ‘m not gay.”
“You’re undecided. I can help you decide. Oh, and I’m not drunk. Malfoys do not get ‘drunk’. I might be slightly inebriated but my nefarious schemes regarding your trousers were in mind prior to my arrival. See? I’m not drunk! I’m using big words and that wouldn’t be possible if I was.”
“Nefary-huh?”
“That whole ‘gaping mouth and dazed look’ isn’t very attractive, Weasley, especially not with all those freckles and that shaggy hair.”
“Like that whole ‘pasty skin and pointy chin look’ is,” Ron grumbled as he reached up to run his fingers through his hair. “’s not shaggy.”
Malfoy glared at him before he took a drink of some pink thing. He looked at his good old plain whiskey and then back at Malfoy. He couldn’t be considering accepting Malfoy’s smug offer. True, Malfoy was attractive in a skinny and pointy sort of way. They fought constantly, though, and had even when they’d been forced to work together during the war.
“What did you have in mind?” he heard himself asking before he could bite his tongue and remind himself that this was Malfoy and that, even if he was gay, this was Malfoy. It was probably some elaborate prank, though he knew Hermione wouldn’t be involved in something like that. In fact, she’d probably be trying to set him up and----He leaned back in his chair and groaned.
She’d sent bloody Malfoy after him, like some sort of pressie for him to experiment with if he wanted. It was a good thing they weren’t going to have his planned future together because she just scared him sometimes. Let Charlie deal with that. He was used to dragons, after all, so Hermione wouldn’t be that bad. Probably.
“You’re not listening.” Malfoy didn’t whine, as twenty-four year old men didn’t do things like that, but it was close.
“Uh, sorry,” Ron stammered, suddenly feeling awkward and too drunk to deal with this right now. He looked at Malfoy and cursed himself for noticing what a lovely shade of grey his eyes were and how his nose didn’t seem nearly so pointy now. “I think I need to go home. I need to sleep this---“
Off was caught by two lips pressed against his. Ron gulped when Malfoy pulled back and scowled.
“That was bloody awful,” Malfoy told him. “I may not be perfectly sober but even I know that wasn’t good.”
“How could it be when you don’t give me warning and are just there and it’s suddenly lips and mouth?” Ron asked defensively.
“That made no sense, Weasley,” Malfoy pointed out haughtily. “It isn’t my fault you can’t kiss.”
Ron glared at him before he picked up his glass and finished it. He slammed his glass down on the bar and stood up. Without saying a word, he grabbed Malfoy’s arm and dragged him to the hallway that led to the loos. “I’ll show you kiss,” he muttered as he pushed Malfoy against the wall and kissed him.
It was different than kissing a girl. It was hard and rough, all lips and teeth and tongue, and he heard a whine that might very well have been his own as he slid his tongue into Malfoy’s mouth. Malfoy kissed him back, trying to get control but not succeeding. Ron pressed closer and felt fingers grip his hair as the kiss deepened. When he finally pulled back, he panted and stared at Malfoy.
“I may need another for proper comparison,” Malfoy murmured as he licked his lips and stared back.
It was really weird to stand in a dark hall with someone he didn’t even really like and want nothing more than to kiss him again. Well, okay, there were other thoughts currently going through his head, but Ron was pretty sure he could blame those on the whiskey. It was even more awkward considering he was hard and that it was a bloke who had caused it. He didn’t know if he’d tell Hermione or not because he couldn’t stand her smug ‘I told you so’ at having figured it out before him, which still annoyed him.
“Do you make it a habit to drift off or is it the alcohol? Because it’s really very irritating,” Malfoy told him.
“Not a habit. Just been a bizarre night,” Ron muttered before he looked at Malfoy’s lips. “Gonna kiss you again, yeah?”
Before Malfoy could answer, Ron lowered his head. This time, he also touched. He moved his hands over Malfoy, finding out that he was definitely too skinny and needed to gain some weight so he’d not feel so bony. For some reason, he figured that wasn't the sort of thing to say in the middle of snogging so he kept it to himself. He liked the roughness, he decided, and the fact that he could squeeze and bite and not worry about hurting. He and Hermione had always been sort of awkward because he’d not wanted to hurt her but she’d wanted him to be less gentle and it had just been a disaster without any sort of balance no matter how hard they tried.
This, though, was bloody perfect.
Ron moved his hand beneath Malfoy’s shirt and touched his ribs before sliding his hand higher. He brushed his thumb over a hard nipple and listened to Malfoy whimper at the touch. His cock was throbbing and he rolled his hips forward, rubbing against Malfoy as he pushed him against the wall. Ron didn’t really know what he was doing. It was different touching a bloke than it had been touching Hermione. He was sort of going on instinct and his own need for friction.
The music playing in the pub got louder and Ron groaned as he realized he was feeling Malfoy up right there where anyone could walk by on their way to the loo. Instead of embarrassing him, it made him harder. Malfoy was smaller than him, both shorter and skinnier, but he was strong. His grip was firm as he touched Ron’s shoulders and back. When he squeezed Ron’s arse, Ron bucked forward and ground against him. They were both hard and it felt fucking fantastic to rub just like this and grind like that.
When their mouths parted, their lips were swollen and Ron thought they might even be bruised. They were fighting for control, which made it even better. He bit Malfoy’s neck hard, sucking and licking as he felt fingernails dig into his skin as Malfoy scratched him. When he felt fingers brush against the hair low on his belly, he inhaled sharply and rolled his hips.
His cock knew what it wanted and bobbed happily when Malfoy unfastened Ron’s trousers and pushed them down his hips. “Someone’s excited,” Malfoy murmured in a smug voice before his fingers wrapped around Ron and began to stroke.
There was no tentative caress or teasing touch. It was firm strokes with strong fingers and a rough palm that felt unbelievably good against his sensitive skin. Ron realized that Malfoy had the advantage currently and wasted no time in unfastening Malfoy’s trousers. He pushed them down, but missed Malfoy’s shorts. He shifted and shoved those down, too.
Ron looked down between them and stared at Malfoy’s cock as he moved his hand around it. It felt different than his own, looked different, and he stared at their cocks as they began to wank each other. Malfoy was thicker than he was, which was bloody annoying, but Ron knew he was longer so maybe it balanced somehow. He wasn’t sure how Malfoy liked to be touched so he just did what he did to himself. He rubbed his thumb over the head, wiping pre-come over Malfoy’s erection, and moved his hand up and down.
Ron stared at their cocks before he shifted so that his could rub against Malfoy’s, biting his lip as he moved closer. It felt good, which meant he had to do it again. Malfoy licked his neck and nibbled, dragging his skin into his mouth and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He felt Malfoy's hand against his mouth and parted his lips, sucking Malfoy’s fingers without question as he rolled his hips forward.
“Who knew that all it would take to shut you up was cock?” Malfoy mused in a husky voice as he rolled his hips forward.
“Shut up,” Ron muttered as he reached down to squeeze Malfoy’s balls, which caused Malfoy to moan. He smirked and repeated Malfoy’s question. “Who knew all it would take to shut you up was cock?”
Instead of replying, Malfoy moved his hand along Ron’s arse, pushing his trousers and shorts down further. Once his arse was uncovered, visible to anyone who glanced down the hallway, Ron realized as he bucked forward again, Malfoy’s fingers pressed against him.
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” Ron stammered as he tensed and his arse clenched. Cock against cock was one thing, sort of like mutual wanking, but his arse was something else entirely. He’d never even let Hermione poke around back there regardless of what her bloody books suggested.
“Relax,” Malfoy told him before he pushed the tip of his wet finger into Ron’s arse. “I’m not going to fuck you here in a pub, Weasley. I might be an exhibitionist but I do have my limits. When I fuck you, it will be in a bed or possibly over the sofa or the desk or the table. Maybe I’ll try all four to see which one feels best.”
“You mean when I fuck you,” Ron corrected automatically as he glanced down the hall towards the pub. There was no one there, thankfully, but he could see people dancing and drinking not far away. He knew that one could look over at any time and see them.
“Details,” Malfoy muttered as he began to move his finger, finally working it inside Ron. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
A finger in his arse felt different than what Ron expected. It was uncomfortable, at first, but then it started to feel good. When Malfoy added a second finger, he hardly noticed. He didn’t know about letting Malfoy put his thick cock in there, but he was soon rocking back and forth between fingers and cock.
Ron came too soon. He wanted to last longer than Malfoy out of some competitive need to best Malfoy whenever possible. He guessed he should be glad that he’d lasted longer than five minutes with Malfoy’s finger in his arse and hand around his cock. His grip on Malfoy tightened as he shuddered and came with a soft grunt. He spilled all over their hands and dripped on the floor.
“Bloody hell,” Malfoy whispered before his hips bucked forward. He whined as he came right after Ron, making a breathless moan that Ron found distracting in all the best ways. He felt Malfoy’s come on his cock, warm and sticky as he kept rubbing until nothing was left.
After it was done, Ron felt nervous. He also felt shy, which was bloody embarrassing. How did he act now? They’d just wanked each other and Malfoy had had his fingers up his arse. Not to mention that the marks on their necks and their swollen lips made it rather obvious that they’d been up to no good. He finally looked at Malfoy and said, “Thanks.”
Well, his mum and Hermione were always telling him to be polite. That didn’t keep him from making a face at how stupid he sounded. He looked down and fumbled with the zip of his trousers and wiggled his arse, which felt odd but in a not that bad way. He wasn’t sober, but he wasn’t pissed enough to blame this on alcohol.
His neck was sore and he thought he might bruise on his hips where Malfoy had gripped him when there had just been rubbing and---Ron stopped those thoughts before he got aroused again. Well, he was twenty-four and not fifteen anymore so it wouldn’t happen that fast but he could definitely feel a stirring in his belly and cock even though he’d just come.
“Weasley,” Malfoy drawled in that lazy superior ‘I’m better than everyone’ tone.
Ron glanced at him and scowled when he saw that Malfoy was already redressed and didn’t look like he’d just shagged, as Ron counted anything with cock and arse touching as shagging. Well, except for the bite marks that made Ron smirk slightly and his lips, which were curled into a smug smile. He met Malfoy’s eyes and asked, “What?”
“So are you? Or do you need further investigation into the matter? I suppose I could help you, if necessary,” Malfoy said with a dramatic sigh as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
For a moment, he considered just mumbling something and leaving. After all, this was Malfoy and the idea of doing anything with him that might lead to complications or situations Ron couldn’t think about when he was in this nice alcohol induced haze was really just impossible. Then he studied Malfoy and tried to get sober enough to make a decision. He noticed how Malfoy was nervously pulling on a stray string from his shirt and how he was biting his lower lip as he straightened his shoulders and looked as if he were preparing for a fight.
“I don’t know,” Ron said slowly as he made a decision that he might regret in the morning when he was hung over and bleary-eyed. And sore, a voice whispered smugly in his mind as his cock twitched happily at the thought. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing and would have preferred simply fighting and fucking without actually having to talk.
“Don’t know what?” Malfoy asked in a snarky voice that made Ron want to smack him, though the thought of fucking him was now also in his head, and the latter sounded much more enjoyable.
“I might need---that is to say that I’d like---oh, fuck this,” Ron finally cursed as he leaned forward and kissed Malfoy, tasting alcohol and mint on his tongue as he moved his hands down to grip Malfoy’s arse and squeezed.
When Malfoy rubbed against him, Ron decided that his immediate future would consist of a little less drinking and a lot more experimentation. After all, if Hermione was going to say ‘I told you so’, he sure as fuck planned to give her a reason.
End
Experimentation
Story Notes:
6/4/06