Work Text:
Love and Drugs
Entering the Wizarding club, Ron maneuvered his way through the crowd. It was made difficult by the frantically gyrating bodies swarming the dance floor, their bodies moving lithely to the thump, thump, thumping of the music. The room smelled of sweat, liquor, and sex. His favorite things as of lately. Sliding past the outermost group of people, Ron finally found the bar. A familiar head of blond hair was already seated there. Smiling to himself, Ron hurried forward and took the open barstool to his left.
"Two shots of firewhisky," he told the bartender, holding up two fingers to show him in case he hadn't heard over the blaring music. The man nodded once and set about getting his drinks. When they were set in front of him, Ron immediately downed the first one, not even grimacing at the burn it left in his throat.
Turning over the now empty shot glass, he turned to peer at the blond sitting next to him. Grey eyes met his and he smiled. "I see you couldn't stay away either." He didn't call him by name, the unspoken rule of this establishment that no one ever spoke of who frequented the raunchy club or call anyone by their given name.
He received a smirk in return. "That for me?" The blond asked, gesturing toward the untouched shot glass.
"That depends," Ron started, "Did you bring some of those treats?" He quirked his head, waiting for an answer.
After glaring at him, the blond rolled his eyes and discreetly tapped the pocket of his Muggle jeans. "Don't be daft. You know I did, if only because I enjoy them too."
Ron wet his lips with his tongue, not missing the way the blond's eyes followed the movement. He couldn't wait to get into those jeans, not just because of what was hidden in the pocket, but because he rather enjoyed the blond's...package… Shaking those thoughts from his head for the time being, Ron pushed the shot toward his companion for the evening. Those grey eyes met his briefly before he picked up the shot and downed it quickly.
"A few more of these before the real fun begins, I think," the blond told him, shaking the empty shot glass to and fro in front of their faces. "I like to be well past tipsy before indulging in the treats."
Ron hummed in response, already gesturing for the bartender to come over and give them another round. In fact, he ordered doubles for the both of them, wanting to hurry the earlier part of the evening along so they could get to what he looked forward to most. If the blond knew his intentions, he said nothing, merely accepted the drinks offered and continued saying nothing. That was the thing, they never really talked much aside from discussing drinks, dancing, and the treats.
It was like talking would lead to far deeper things, like questions. Questions about why each of them frequented this horrid club, or why they overindulged in things like alcohol and, well, drugs. Having known each other for most of their life, both assumed they knew why they did this. The war. The pain. The losses. It all took its toll in the end, leaving them with no real choice but to seek refuge elsewhere.
They probably could find solace in their friends, but where was the fun in that? Sneaking off to dodgy Wizarding clubs in the middle of nowhere was far easier than actually voicing your personal demons. Why talk to your two best friends, who were probably suffering just as much as you were, when you could just as easily lose yourself for a few hours by drinking, taking ecstasy, and fucking someone until nothing even mattered anymore. That's why they were here. They both knew it, so there was no reason talking about it.
After two more rounds, Ron felt the blond take his hand. It wasn't that he wanted to hold it, no; it was because he was slipping a few of the treats into his palm without anyone seeing. Ron smiled warmly at the blond, the alcohol making him drunk and happy. Sliding his palm against the blond's he discreetly brought the pills to his mouth and slipped them inside. He rolled them over his tongue briefly before using the last of his drink to swallow them down. He looked to see the blond doing the same, but with a smirk on his face.
Setting aside his empty glass, the blond reached for his hand again, intertwining their fingers this time. "Come on. It's time to dance while they start working." He tugged him off the stool, both of them wobbling slightly as the full impact of their drinking hit them.
Ron laughed and followed the blond to the dancefloor, already feeling a slight high. These must have been stronger than usual. Allowing the blond to take the lead, their bodies began moving to the rhythm. They bumped against one another, occasionally grinding as well. Ron didn't care… All that mattered was this feeling of freedom, of falling, of flying. Taking hold of the blond's hips, he tugged him close by the belt loops on his jeans. His hands snaked around his muscular frame, holding him close as they continued to gyrate.
The music and lights seemed to intensify so he closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of his companion instead. He could hear his breathing, smell his sweat, and feel the way his body was reacting to his movements. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to just taste him right here on the dancefloor. That was against the rules. Not the club's rules, but the blond's. No kissing where people could see. Ron tempted fate anyway, bringing his face down into the crook of his neck and licking a hot trail from the base of his neck to his ear.
"I need to taste you," he whispered wantonly into his ear which earned him a gasp of surprise.
Instead of a reply, Ron was jerked from the dancefloor. The blond led him to one of the loos and shoved him into a seedy stall. He locked it quickly and then his lips were on Ron's, his tongue darting into his mouth eagerly. Ron kissed him back with fervor, the ecstasy making him feel as if every nerve in his body was aflame. Hands roamed everywhere, tugging shirts out of pants and unfastening zippers. When the blond's hand wrapped around his heavy cock, Ron let out a strangled cry. The blond chuckled into his neck, the sound sending chills down his spine.
"Eager, are we?" He asked, slowly sliding his palm up and down his shaft.
"Please," Ron begged, his head lolling backward to rest on the stall wall as he picked up momentum. His thumb flicked over the tip of his cock, causing his hips to rock into his hand. "Draco…" he panted, his fingers digging into the blond's back hard enough to leave marks.
"Shhhh," Draco hissed, covering his mouth with his own. His tongue slid inside the warm heat and began to mimic the movements he was making with his hand.
Ron eyes fluttering shut as Draco continued to move him towards that glorious release. A few more strokes and he would be there, but for some odd reason, Draco stopped. Ron's eyes flashed open, seeking out Draco's stare. "Why have you stopped?"
"Let's take this someplace else. I want to take you home with me," Draco admitted, averting his eyes. He looked torn, and just slightly upset.
"You've never asked me home before. We always finish here and then go our separate ways." Ron was confused. The drugs were making his head swim. Or was that the alcohol? He needed release, but his heart was forcing him to focus on Draco's worried face. "What's changed?"
"I have… Or at least my feelings have." Draco let go of Ron's cock and stepped back so they could properly look at one another.
"What do you mean…" Ron trailed off, not quite knowing how to voice his question. If Draco's feelings changed, did that mean he no longer wanted him? That didn't make sense, though. If he wanted him to come home with him, then he wasn't pushing him away. Clarity struck then despite his muddled mind. "Draco… Are you saying-"
"I think I'm falling for you, Ron," he cringed at using his name. Running a hand through his already tousled locks, Draco shrugged. "I think it's why I keep coming back here. I'm more addicted to you than I am to the bloody drugs and alcohol."
Ron didn't know what to say. Draco Malfoy was admitting he cared for him and if that wasn't the biggest shock of his life, he didn't know what else was. Swallowing thickly, he tried to remain calm even though inside his heart was racing faster than a Firebolt. Stepping forward, he wrapped Draco in and embrace and did what came naturally. He kissed him. Immediately, he felt Draco relax so he kept going for a few minutes. The kiss was slow, intense, not sexual but still full of passion. When he stepped back again, he nodded.
"I think you're onto something here… Let's go back to your place and figure it out. It's not like we can spend the rest of our lives popping pills and fucking in disgusting bathroom stalls, now can we?" After they set their clothing right, Ron took Draco's hand and led him from the club, both of them hoping that there was more to their relationship beyond this place. For the sake of them both, there had to be more to this…