Apple Crumble

Title: Apple Crumble

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley

Prompt: 077: Demand

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: ~802

Warnings: Non-Con, BDSM, D/s, angst, first person POV

Summary: I don't think he knew how demanding he has become. This is the third night this week. One night too many.

“Harry.”

I pant the word because I haven't got enough breath left to say it any louder. I can't move. I don't know where he learnt these spells but they're hurting me, stringing my body up so that he has access to every single inch of it.

“What?” he smiles at me, whilst one of his hands rubs my cock, as if this is normal, as if it's fine to pounce on your best mate and tie him up as soon as he walks through the door from work.

My body stinks. It was a long day and I didn't shower after my run. I can smell my own stench from my armpits and it's disgusting, mingling with new sweat and the smell of sex because I'm only human and Harry's sucked my cock already and I came too quickly.

“Enough,” I say finally, trying to clear my throat. “Let me go.”

“And If I refuse?” he taunts, closing his fingers in a tight fist around my shaft.

My spine arches as I lean forward into his touch.

“You don't want to be let go. You want this.”

“I want to lie down,” I moan, dropping my head forward so that it hangs between my up-stretched arms. “Please.”

“Sorry, didn't catch that,” Harry says, dropping my cock and moving to pick something up.

“No,” I say stiffly, looking at the flogger in his hand. “No, Harry. I've had enough!”

I cry out at the first crack of the leather against my arse. It stings like fire; when it falls again it's worse, and he hits me over and over again until I'm just screaming and jerking, knowing nothing else other than the pain and his control over me.

Suddenly the pain cuts out and he's in front of me. He's blurry. I'm crying.

“Shh.” Harry reaches up to wipe away a tear with his thumb. I didn't know it was there.

I look at him through watery eyes and silently plead.

“You know what you have to say...”

“I just wanted to have dinner and go to bed!” I burst out, slightly hysterical.

Harry stares at me, eyes assessing my face.

“Bowtruckle,” I mumble finally. I can't look at him.

Before I know it, I'm on the floor. My bum and hips ache from the blows he laid there and my cock pokes me in the belly.

I can't look up at him, because this is something else. This is the first time I've ever had to use my safe word. This is the first time he has ever pushed me too far, and it wasn't with dangerous kinks, it wasn't through too much pain.

“Ron.” A cool hand smooths over my brow and pushes my hair back; I didn't know I was so hot.

I don't think he knew how demanding he has become. This is the third night this week. One night too many.

“Ron, I'm sorry.”

I know I have to grow a pair and look at him, before I break what we've worked so hard to build. It just feels like he's betrayed me, somehow, by forcing me to say that word, a word I never planned to use. Swallowing, I push myself up with one hand and make myself look at him. He looks terrible, pale. Frightened.

“For once,” I start, and have to cough to make my voice work again. “For once, Harry, can we just fuck without this shit? Without the restraints and the whips and the power play?”

“I thought you liked it,” Harry says weakly.

“I do. But if you eat apple crumble every night for dessert you're gonna get tired of it,” I blurt, blinking the tears out of my eyes. “Do you get what I'm saying?”

“I get it,” Harry says solemnly, sitting back on his heels, shoulders slumped.

We sit and stare at one another. My body cools down until the point where I start to shiver. My arse really hurts. He reads my mind.

“I'll heal those,” he says, reaching for his wand. “I'm sorry I... I'm sorry I pushed you, Ron.”

I shake my head and lean forward, seeking out a kiss. When I find his lips I pause and murmur against them.

“Love you, Harry.”

“You shouldn't,” he mutters back, and then kisses me, too tentatively for the hard stripes lashed into my skin not minutes ago by the same person.

I lift my aching arm to cup the base of his skull with my fingers; I hold him in place as we kiss. I open my eyes to find him staring at me, apology etched deep in the green.