Sleeping With Thine Enemies

Sleeping With Thine Enemies (Part 2)

Draco thinks about that kiss, that one kiss that he forced upon Ron, far into the small hours of the night. Then he dreams about it. He dreams about holding Ron down and eating him piece by piece.

Then he thinks about the kiss all the next day.

At first his thoughts are uneasy ones. He is not exactly sure why he did what he did. He isn’t gay. He is most certainly not gay. And Weasley is certainly not attractive. He’s lanky and freckled and his clothes never fit right. And then there’s that hair. That stupid red hair. How he loathes it; that color that he has come to associate with dirt-poor trash...

No, there are no good reasons to explain why he did what he did. And he has no clue as to why he feels he desperately needs to do it again.

So many things he does not know.

But he does know one thing.

He will return to the dungeons tonight.

He goes to bed that night and pretends to sleep. Then he waits in the darkness and bides his time, watching the clock until it tells him that it is one in the morning - the same time he went to the dungeons the night before. Then he waits some more.

Finally, after holding back as long as he possibly can, he gets out of bed, dresses, grabs his wand and begins his journey.

It is much easier this time, of course. Draco knows exactly where he needs to go and he reaches the dungeons quickly.

When he nears Ron’s cell, he can see that some things have changed since yesterday. For one thing, Ron is no longer attached to the wall. He is sitting against it, yes, but his arms are behind his back. Are they tied? Yes, Draco guesses that they probably are. Also, he is sitting on a mattress instead of the floor. It is a skinny, dirty mattress, but it is more than he had yesterday. He surmises that Ron is in for a long stay.

When he moves a little closer, he can see that Ron is staring straight at him, almost as if he were expecting him.

The intensity in his eyes tells Draco that Ron is a very unhappy boy right now.

But since Draco could really not care less, he continues to move toward the cell, stopping only briefly to unlock it.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Malfoy?” Ron snarls as soon as he enters.

Draco halts, then smiles in actual amusement. “That was good, Weasley. You almost sounded like a proper person instead of the trash that you are.”

“Bastard,” Ron says quietly.

“I’m here Weasley, because I’ve been thinking. About what happened last night. About why I...did what I did.”

“Why you kissed me, you mean?”

Draco almost blushes at the directness of the comment. Then he decides he should be direct as well. “Yes, why I kissed you.”

“Well, I thought that was obvious. It’s because you’re a flaming homosexual, right?”

Draco waves his wand at Ron, easily dismissing his words. “Haven’t we talked about this? You should be nicer to me.”

Ron merely shrugs while managing to look disgusted. “Whatever.”

“Anyway, where was I? Ah yes...no; I am not a “flaming homosexual” as you so eloquently put it. And before you get the thought into your thick brain, no, I do not like you. I mean, look at you. You’re barely presentable, even at your best.”

“So why did you maul me, then?”

But Draco continues as if he hadn’t heard Ron at all.

“So I thought about it. About why I felt the need to kiss you, but I just couldn’t figure it out. But...I did decide one thing.”

Draco sees Ron’s body tense and he pauses for even more dramatic tension. “I liked it,” he says.

Ron’s eyes widen a little at hearing those three words.

“And I think I want to do it again,” Draco says softly, almost to himself.

Ron shakes his head in disbelief. “No,” he whispers.

Draco takes one step forward. “Yes.”

“No,” Ron says again, with a little more force behind it this time.

Draco decides its high time he put a stop to all this talking and do what he came here to do. He takes a resolute step forward.

Ron shakes his head furiously, trying to deny the approach even as it’s happening. He pushes back against the wall and tries to use his hands and his legs to stand, to get away. But he is so tired and so sore, because despite what he told Draco yesterday, Lucius does not hit worse than his grandmother. Lucius hits damn hard.

In spite of this, he continues to try. He is half-way standing, his hands desperately searching for purchase against the stone when Draco finally reaches him.

“Calm down, Weasley. I’m not going to hurt you,” Draco says as he reaches a hand out. He means to touch the other boy’s hair, but Ron turns his head away so fast that he doesn’t make contact.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” Ron says, and although the words sound harsh, there is an underlying touch of fear in his tone that makes Draco very glad he decided to go for a walk tonight.

“Right,” Draco says smoothly, as if he has every intention of letting it end there. And he actually does take two steps back...but only to grip Ron more easily by his forearms and pull him down to the mattress.

Ron tries to stop this, but his equilibrium is completely off without the use of his hands. He falls down to the mattress and lands heavily on his side.

Draco follows immediately after, rolling him over onto his back before climbing onto his waist.

“Get the fuck off me!” Ron yells as he squirms to get away.

“Stop it,” Draco says as his hands tighten around Ron’s arms to hold him still.

But Ron struggles all the more.

Draco grips him so tightly, it feels as if his fingers will sink through Ron’s very skin, and he shakes the other boy. Hard. Once...twice...three times.

“Just listen for a minute will you?” he shouts.

“Fine!” Ron shouts back.

Draco lets go of Ron’s arms and takes a deep breath in an attempt get himself back in control; to get back the feeling that he had when he first walked in here. Eventually the urge to throttle the other boy to death passes and he feels he can speak again. “Now look, you are in a very vulnerable position right now,” he says calmly, logically. “If I wanted to, I could really hurt you. Yes?”

Ron rolls his eyes. “Just get to the damn point.”

“The point is this - I can hurt you, but I won’t, at all, if you do one little thing for me.”

Ron looks at him warily, knowing this is a trap, and hating himself for falling into it. “What is that?” he asks.

“Let me kiss you.”

“Oh, no.”

“Come on, Weasley. It’s just one kiss. Isn’t it better than the alternative?”

“No,” Ron says.

Draco smiles lazily. “I have my dagger with me, I could hurt you very badly.”

Which of course is a lie, Draco can’t hurt Ron at all. But what Ron doesn’t know only works to Draco’s advantage.

Ron stills. He looks at Draco’s mouth before meeting his eyes. “Just one kiss?”

“Just one kiss.”

Ron gives a half-nod, and then, with barely controlled hysteria, asks, “But why? Why would you want to?”

“I’ve already explained this to you. Haven’t you been listening at all? And quit stalling. Yes or no.”

Ron takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling.

“Weasley. Yes or no?” Draco prods.

Another intake of breath and then a very soft, resigned, “Yes.”

A flutter of excitement passes through Draco’s chest and stomach. “All right, then,” he says huskily before leaning down, head descending until his lips touch Ron’s. Ron’s mouth, however, is closed tightly, and all Draco can feel are rough, parched lips against his own.

Not enough. Not even close to being enough.

Draco makes a noise of frustration and bites down on the other boy’s lower lip. Ron gasps, and Draco’s tongue slithers inside his mouth.

Finally...finally...

He kisses Ron slowly this time; almost gently. This time isn’t so much about devouring as it is about tasting. Tasting...and savoring.

He’s going to enjoy this.

As the kiss continues, Ron tries to force his body to relax. He even begins to participate in the kiss, in hopes that it will be over that much sooner if he cooperates. But behind his back, his hands are clenched into tight fists, his nails leaving crescent shaped indents in his flesh.

After a minute, Draco withdraws his tongue and shifts his body ever-so-slightly. Ron unclenches his hands, anticipating the moment when Draco will finally get off of him and leave him alone. But Draco only pulls away long enough to run a hand through his hair and lick his lips hungrily before lowering himself again.

Ron manages to turn his head to the side before Draco’s mouth can reach his. “You said one kiss,” he says angrily.

“I lied,” Draco says smoothly before grabbing Ron’s chin and forcing his head back to center.

And the kiss begins again, just as gently as before.

It takes only a few seconds for Ron’s anger to disappear and for the first stirrings of panic to take its place. Not because of the kiss. That is really the least of his worries right now. He is starting to panic because Draco’s left hand is now on his leg and is rubbing it from the hip to the middle of his thigh and back again.

Ron tries to back away, but Draco’s grip on his chin and his hip tighten. And now the kiss isn’t so gentle anymore. It’s harder, faster. And Draco has started to breathe very fast, and the hand that is on his leg is grabbing now, hard enough to hurt.

And it is slowly making its way to the middle of his legs.

Ron shuts his eyes against the onslaught. Not just the physical one, but the emotional one as well. He has never before been made to feel like this. Helpless, ashamed, angry, disgusted, afraid...so many emotions and thoughts at one time that he can’t hold on to any of them.

And Draco; Draco is too busy swimming in pleasurable sensation to think much of anything.

He moans deep within his throat as his mouth begins to wander from Ron’s mouth to his jawline and then to his throat. He stops there to nibble and nip against the pale skin; desperately fighting the urge to drive his inscisors straight through it.

Ron, eyes still tightly shut against reality, takes a few, quick, gasping breaths before uttering a desperate, “Stop...don’t!”

The frantic plea somehow penetrates the haze of pleasure that has enveloped Draco for the past several minutes. He freezes completely, then slowly withdraws his mouth, his hands, from Ron’s body.

As he looks down at the boy he holds trapped underneath him, the animalistic fire that had burned him so hotly recedes and reality is left in its stead.

He has lost control before, but never to this extent. Never to the point of not even being able to think or to reason.

“Stop...” Ron gasps again.

But Draco is no longer even touching him. He is already on his feet, and half-way to the other end of the cell. “I...” he begins to say, but the sentence ends there, because there is nothing to say.

A sick, cold feeling begins to form in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that had Ron not spoken, he would not have stopped.

And how far would he have gone?

And why? Why with Weasley?

He shakes his head against questions he can’t possibly answer right now.

He needs to get out of here; out of this damn dungeon with its stultifying heat and its stained, ruined walls, and think.

He takes one last look at Ron, still on his back, his eyes closed and breathing heavily...and he runs as if the very devil were after his soul.