Just for Tonight

“You’re drunk, Weasley.”

“’m not,” Ron denied as he put down his empty glass and pushed it across the bar to join the other seven glasses. It was one of those nights, again, and he just wanted to get drunk enough to forget that they were happening more and more frequently these days. His arm hurt and his flat had been too quiet, which meant a trip to the pub.

At one time, he might have gone to see Harry, but now he was busy with Ginny and the renewal of their happy and soppy relationship. Hermione was out of the question for a number of reasons, foremost being that she’d try to offer some advice or attempt to talk to him, which was even worse than the fact that she was shacked up with his favorite brother. He’d gotten over his jealousy about Charlie several months ago, for the most part, but it didn’t mean he wanted to intrude and deal with that on top of her ‘Well, Muggle therapists suggest blah blah blah’ spiel.

So the pub had become his counselor when he got depressed or lonely or just needed to escape life for a few hours. When he was drunk, things had a certain glow to them and it felt like nothing could ruin his good mood. It was good that he was a happy drunk, he decided as he ordered another drink. Of course, a bad side effect of being a happy drunk was that he was also an affectionate one. And affectionate usually led to horny, which led to stumbling home to drunkenly wank because he never got so drunk that he actually went home with anyone.

Tonight, however, his familiar routine of recent weeks had been interrupted by Malfoy. Fortunately, Ron had already had several drinks before Malfoy showed up so he was in a pretty good mood by then. Not even smug blonds could ruin the nice buzz from the alcohol. In fact, Malfoy wasn’t so bad after several drinks. That thought should have told Ron that he didn’t need another drink, but he felt good and the pub was loud and noisy.

He ordered another drink and scowled when Malfoy changed it to coffee. “I don’t like coffee,” he grumbled as he glared at Malfoy. He blinked when he realized how close they were and frowned. “Why are you so close?”

“You’re sitting on my lap,” Malfoy pointed out dryly. “You need to sober up, Weasley. You’re even more pathetic than usual, which is really saying something. Now will you please get off my lap so I can floo one of your ickle friends to come get your bony arse?”

Ron glanced down and saw that he was, indeed, sitting on Malfoy’s lap. Despite being rather drunk, he was aware enough to know that this arrangement just wasn’t right. Malfoy was short and skinny so his lap wasn’t that big at all. He looked like he needed to eat a few good meals, in fact, because he was bordering on too skinny. When Ron wiggled slightly, though, he felt something press against his arse that definitely didn’t feel small. Well, that was an interesting development, he decided as he tried to figure out what he thought about the fact that Malfoy’s cock was poking his bum.

“Why’m I in your lap?” he asked as he looked up at Malfoy through his half-lowered lashes. He experimentally shifted again and noticed a flush appear on Malfoy’s pale face, which was rather neat.

“That’s something I’ve been asking since you invited yourself to sit there,” Malfoy muttered in a tone that sounded far too much like Ron’s mum for comfort. “I merely approached you because I couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind you how pathetic you are as any good friend would, and then you climbed all over me as if I were some Muggle playground equipment.”

“We’re not friends,” Ron pointed out matter-of-factly. “Can’t stand ya and you don’t like me, either.”

“You need to sober up, Weasley. I hate wasting sarcasm on a drunken oaf who can’t even understand,” Malfoy said. He smirked suddenly. “Not that you usually understand while sober, either.”

“Prat.” Ron wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said but he knew that smirk well enough to know it had been some sort of insult. He might not understand Malfoy that well when he got all Hermione-talking-like, but he knew the smirks and sneers. “My arse isn’t bony.”

Malfoy blinked at him, obviously too slow to follow the conversation. And he said Ron was stupid? Ha! Before Ron could manage a gloating smile, Malfoy rolled his eyes. Ron had never noticed what a lovely shade of grey they were or just how long Malfoy’s pale eyelashes were. He leaned forward to get a closer look and stared unblinkingly into eyes the color of slate.

“Weasley,” Malfoy murmured in a tone that Ron hadn’t ever heard before. If he weren’t so drunk, he might have realized that it was a warning but he didn’t heed it. Instead, he stared and breathed on Malfoy’s full lips.

“You’re pretty,” he muttered with a slight frown. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before? Even with the scars, Malfoy was attractive in a pretty-not-masculine way. Not girly, but just different. “You’re not supposed to be pretty.”

“And you’re pissed off your arse, obviously,” Malfoy said softly as he blinked and finally looked away. “Get off my lap and tell me who you want me to floo to come help you home.”

“Not so pissed that I can’t feel this,” Ron told him as he deliberately shifted in a way to rub against the bulge that felt bigger than it had before. He grinned suddenly. “You like having me on your lap.”

“I do not,” Malfoy denied as he glared at Ron. His cheeks were flushed again and his lips were now wet, which was rather distracting. Ron forgot what they’d been talking about as he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Malfoy.

“I need a drink,” he muttered quickly when he had thought. He couldn’t possibly be that drunk or that lonely. Kissing Malfoy? The very idea was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Well, it was obvious that he wasn’t thinking, which was the problem. Another drink would help. He reached for the nearest glass and took a large swallow. He coughed when he tasted hot coffee and spit it back into the cup. “Oh bloody fucking hell. I’ve burned my tongue.”

It came out sounding more like ‘Uh bwody fwkg hal. I brn ma tong.’

“Let me see,” Malfoy demanded in a bossy tone that rivaled Hermione’s during her time of the month. Ron had been trained to react instantly to that voice so he didn’t even consider refusing. Instead, he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Malfoy stared at it and Ron couldn’t resist wiggling it in a very suggestive manner, mostly cause the action made those sharp cheeks flood with pale pink, which he found pretty. “It looks fine.”

“Hurts,” Ron said with a slight pout. He wanted coddling and attention, not a dismissive ‘it’s fine’.

“Baby,” Malfoy muttered before he poked Ron’s tongue with his finger. “There’s a slight spot there where it burned but it will heal soon. Quit whining and let me get someone to take you home.”

“Not gonna go. Still drinking,” Ron told him firmly, not caring that he sounded ridiculous trying to talk with his burned tongue.

“Weasley, I’m going to leave you here,” Malfoy told him bluntly. “You’re very fortunate that I’ve not given in to the impulse to take advantage of your drunken arse so don’t push your luck. I’ll floo Granger to come get you.”

Ron only heard the bits he felt like hearing, which made listening to Malfoy much more enjoyable. “You wanna take advantage of my arse?” he asked with a wide grin. “Sorry, Malfoy. I prefer to top so I’ll be having your arse.”

Malfoy stared at him until Ron wondered if he’d accidentally hexed him or something. God, he didn’t want to floo Hermione and ask for help if he’d somehow managed to drunkenly freeze Malfoy at the bar. She’d lecture him for sure, then, and probably insist on him talking about his feelings like some soppy Muggle.

“I have to go,” Malfoy murmured as he shifted on the barstool. Ron’s eyes widened when he felt a much larger bulge rub against his arse. “You’re drunk and I’m about to do something very stupid if I don’t leave. Get off, Weasley. I’ll leave you to your firewhisky.”

“You can take me home,” Ron said before he could stop himself. Drunk or not, he couldn’t believe he’d just told Draco Malfoy to escort him home. His mind was again on something Malfoy had said, though, and he couldn’t stop thinking things that sounded much better than they should have, which he blamed on the pleasant glow from too much alcohol. His tongue hurt and his cock was throbbing but his arm felt better so it was a fair trade, he supposed.

He tossed some coins on the bar and slid off Malfoy’s skinny lap. A quick glance at where he’d been sitting confirmed that there was a rather large bulge pressed against Malfoy’s black trousers. Ron was starting to sober up, but not enough to stop what he knew was about to happen. It had been months since he’d shagged, even longer since he’d really felt attracted to someone, and he told himself that it didn’t matter that it was Malfoy, a former enemy and now a…well, Ron wasn’t exactly sure just what Malfoy was now.

“Fine. I’ll take you home,” Malfoy agreed before he cleared his throat and stood up. He followed Ron to the floo and seemed to become more withdrawn with each step. By the time they made it to Ron’s flat, he was cool and aloof with his arms wrapped around himself as he looked at Ron suspiciously.

“Wanna drink?” Ron asked awkwardly. He didn’t invite people back to his flat and was glad he was too buzzed to care that the flat was a mess at the moment. It was just a weird night, he decided as he shifted in place and tried to figure out just what he wanted and what he was doing.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Malfoy told him as he ran his hand through his pale blond hair and scowled.

The scars that covered his left jaw and throat were more noticeable here than they’d been in the dim light of the pub, but Ron didn’t mind them. Bill’s were more vivid, after all, and he rather thought that Malfoy’s added character to a face that would have been too pretty without them. He frowned as he decided that he’d had bad firewhisky tonight, obviously, as it had made him turn into some kind of thoughtful bloke with too much thinking happening. He wasn’t a fan of thinking most the time and especially not when he was drunk. It just wasn’t right.

“All right, Weasley. You’re safely home so I’ve done my good deed for the year. Let’s just forget tonight ever happened, yeah?” He backed up towards the floo as he spoke and looked as if he were eager to escape.

“Not home safely,” Ron protested suddenly. There was a feeling in the pit of his belly that wasn’t familiar but he knew that he didn’t want Malfoy to leave yet. The flat was too quiet these days and even being snarked at by someone he didn’t like was better than being alone so much.

“What?” Malfoy arched a brow and gave Ron a look that made his cock stir.

“My tongue hurts,” he explained as he stepped closer. “When I was a kid, I broke my arm and Mum said that a kiss would make it all better. She lied cause it hurt like hell but maybe it will help this time.”

Malfoy licked his lips and looked scared as Ron advanced. He shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even think about it, Weasley. You’re drunk and I’m not about to be some drunken mistake. Floo me when you’re sober and you’ll remember that you hate me so this nonsense can stop. I don’t want you, damn it. You’re fucking Weasley with your pathetic Gryffindor ways and bony arse and shaggy hair and horrible table manners and---“

Any further protest was cut off by Ron’s mouth. His tongue really did hurt, which made kissing rather painful, but, God, it felt good. Malfoy was several inches shorter than him so Ron had to lean down slightly but it still felt as if the angles of their bodies fit perfect. Malfoy whined against his lips before he suddenly kissed him back.

Ron suddenly understood what had been missing from his relationship with Hermione. It had been nice with her, and he did love her, but there had always been something lacking during the months they were together years ago. She seemed to have found ‘it’ with Charlie, of all people, but he’d never quite figured out what ‘it’ was. Now, he knew. He began to sober up as the kiss deepened and arousal set his body on fire. This was passion and desire and lust in their basest forms, and he couldn’t get enough.

By the time the last kiss ended, their shirts were on the floor and they were flushed and breathing heavily. Ron kissed him again and moved them through his flat towards his bedroom. He stumbled on an old pizza box and snorted with laughter when he caught himself before he could fall. He grinned sheepishly up at Malfoy before he straightened and continued the kiss. When they reached his room, they tumbled onto the bed and started touching and rubbing as they kissed.

He fumbled with the zip on Malfoy’s trousers before he managed to get it unfastened. Then he moved his hand into Malfoy’s shorts and gripped his cock. He smiled smugly when Malfoy groaned and bucked his hips forward, but the smile didn’t last long when Malfoy’s hand slid into his own pants and began to wank him. He nibbled on Malfoy’s shoulder as they stroked each other. Their panting and moaning was the only sound in his quiet bedroom.

Malfoy’s hand was rather small and his palms were smooth. His fingers were long enough to grip Ron the way he liked, and he moved his wrist with just the right twist to make Ron groan. Malfoy’s cock felt long and thick enough for Ron’s tastes. It throbbed in his hand as he tugged harder, the position not allowing for much more than a simple up and down motion. Malfoy licked his neck as they rubbed together and wanked.

It didn’t take either of them long. They’d been drinking and there had been lap wiggling and, God, the kissing was fucking amazing, not that Ron was likely to admit that. Malfoy moaned against his sweaty skin suddenly, and Ron whined when he felt him bite down hard on his shoulder before his cock twitched in Ron’s hand. Malfoy came with a low noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a sigh.

When he felt warm sticky wetness spill onto his fingers, Ron rolled his hips forward and fucked Malfoy’s hand as well as he could until he came with a grunt. He felt his come soak his pants and some even splashed up onto his belly as Malfoy wanked him through his orgasm. He panted and tried to catch his breath as they lay there on his blanket, legs tangled together and bodies so close he wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to move their arms enough to wank.

He pulled his hand out of Malfoy’s pants and lazily licked his fingers clean. Malfoy tasted better than he expected, not that he’d really given the subject much thought until tonight other than the occasional really dirty fantasy when he was very horny. He looked across the pillow and saw Malfoy sucking his fingers. It was one of the hottest things Ron could ever remember seeing, which might not be saying a lot since he didn’t have a huge amount of experience when it came to this sort of thing.

“’m tired,” he murmured before he yawned. He pushed his jeans and shorts down and kicked them off the bed before he settled back down. Malfoy openly ogled his naked body, which would have made him smirk and caused some sort of comment if he hadn’t been caught up in the afterglow of a good wank and nice haze from the firewhisky.

“I should clean up and---“

“Stay,” Ron said sleepily as he moved his arm around Malfoy’s waist and snuggled closer. He’d deny that he snuggled, of course, but it felt good to be curled up against someone warm, even if it was a skinny arrogant blond that he normally found frustrating and annoying. “Just for tonight, Malfoy.”

Malfoy had tensed when Ron snuggled but he slowly began to relax until he eventually pushed his own trousers and pants off. He settled against Ron, whose eyes were closed by that point so he couldn’t even appreciate the opportunity to ogle naked skin. Well, he opened his eyes briefly and drunkenly leered before he yawned and closed them again. As he drifted off to sleep, he heard Malfoy whisper, “Just for tonight, Weasley.”

End