Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
6th October 2019 07:05
Title: Absolution
Author: keyflight790
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: birching, spanking
Other Warnings/Content: BDSM, D/s, praise, committed relationship, punishment
Word Count: 3,772
Summary/Description: Draco wants to be absolved for his sins, so he goes to his Dominant to help.
Author's Notes: Written for fangqueen, who has been so instrumental in my love for these two. Thank you for the beta as well.

Ron woke up to an empty bed.

It wasn’t unusual. His bed hadn’t been filled since his brief relationship with Hermione, and when he played with Draco at the club, they usually stayed there, wrapped up on the couch, in blankets, departing while the moon was still high.

Tonight would be different. Tonight, Ron would be there for his pet in every way imaginable.

When he got to the Ministry, he wasn’t surprised to see Draco hunched over his desk, writing out formulas while two cauldrons bubbled behind him. The Potions department ran weird hours, with certain mixtures needing to be cared for at very specific times of the day. Ron knocked on the frame of the door, giving Draco a quick smile and a wave.

Draco looked up, and Ron could already see how puffy his eyes were, how pale his face was. He could see the tension in the way he held his quill, his normally beautiful penmanship barely a row of black scratches.

Draco was hurting, and Ron couldn’t do anything about it. Not here, not in the Ministry. Instead, he placed a chocolate croissant on his desk with a little note, gave Draco a soft smile, and made his way to the Auror department before their morning meeting.

My pet,

You are mine, and you are so good for me. I will take care of you, I promise.



He had trouble concentrating; his knee kept bouncing with nervous energy, hitting the bottom of his desk in a weird syncopation.

“Wazlib, what’s up?” Harry asked from across their shared office.


“Something though, yeah? Haven’t seen you this twitchy since the locket.”

Ron hadn’t told Harry about Draco. It was private, sacred. He had told Harry he was seeing someone, though.

“Big date tonight. Just a bit anxious for it.” Ron supposed that was close enough to the truth. He wanted to tell his best friend, he really did, but he was also his brother-in-law, and Harry had a difficult time not letting secrets spill.

Especially to his wife. And Ron could not let Ginny know what went on his bed. Or at the club he frequented.

“Oh, where are you taking the lucky guy? And when do I get to meet him?”

To the stocks, Ron thought to himself. “You’ll meet him when he’s ready. He’s still not quite out.” It was the easiest answer for now. Draco and Ron were friendly in public, had been seen more than a few times together, but Draco still wasn’t ready to tell the world about their relationship. Ron was secretly hoping that tonight would change that. Either way, it would change their relationship for better or for worse.

Luckily Robards dropped a fresh case on their desk and the rest of the day was spent questioning witnesses and narrowing down suspects.

He barely noticed when his wand buzzed, signaling the end of work. Ron cracked his back as he stood, grabbed his robes.

“Good luck tonight!” Harry called out, and Ron gave him a nod as he walked out the door.

He hurried home and grabbed his duffel as well as a quick bite to eat. The bag held everything he would need to get both him and Draco through the next morning.


“I want you to hurt me,” he had told Ron just one week ago. They had finished playing, and Draco’s arse was red, his chest coated in Ron’s come.

Ron had smiled. “Don’t I always?”

“No.” Draco had shivered, and wouldn’t look at Ron, even when he asked. Ron had to command, had to threaten ten lashes with Draco’s least favourite toy to get his silver eyes to lock on Ron’s.

“Tell me what you need, pet, and we’ll talk about it.”

Even though Draco was already naked, already splayed and used, he looked more vulnerable than Ron had ever seen him.

“It’s the anniversary, next Thursday.”

“Of the war?” Ron asked. “That was May. Three months ago.”

“Not the war,” Draco said, his voice shaky. “This.”

He slowly pulled his wrist out, baring his Mark.

“Oh.” Ron had tried not to think about it, that, even when he held his wrists above his head, or when he cradled Draco in his arms.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Hey, you don’t owe me an explanation. I know you. You’re a good person, Draco. A poncy arse sometimes, but good.”

“I did bad things, though. Things I...never paid for.”

“Innocents don’t pay for the mistakes of others.” Ron was waiting outside of the Ministry the day Harry went and testified for Draco. He had saved their lives. They owed him their words at the very least.

“I want to pay for my sins.”


Ron’s hands were shaking as he walked up to Desire. He found Draco already in their room, already stripped and on his knees, eyes cast downward and hands gorgeously behind his back.

He swallowed, and allowed his Dominant persona to take over for his nervousness. Ron stood in front of Draco, his leather boots in the blonds eyesight.

“What are we doing tonight, pet?” he asked, relieved his voice came out strong and confident.

“You’re punishing me for being a Death Eater, Sir.” Draco’s voice, on the other hand, was so quiet. Ron could hear the tears brimming at the back of his throat.

It won’t be long, pet. You’ll be crying soon.

“I’m absolving you, darling.” Ron ran a soothing hand through Draco’s hair. “First with my hand, then with the birch rod.” He needed to make sure Draco was still on board; the next hour would not be pleasant for either of them, but he was hoping that this punishment would help Draco overcome his guilt.

“How many strikes for your punishment, pet?”

“Forty with your hand, and,” Draco swallowed heavily. “Ten with the birch, Sir.”

“What’s your safeword?”


“Good boy. Now go over to the whipping post.”

Draco moved unsteadily, and Ron could understand his hesitation. However, he wanted this, wants this, to feel cleansed, and Ron’s hoping tonight would achieve that.

Ron watched with nervous anticipation as Draco draped himself over the post, his stomach resting across the leather base, his legs and arms dangling towards the floor. Ron shackled each appendage, his hand running soothingly over Draco’s arms and the backs of his thighs after each buckle was secured.

“We’re going to start slow.” Ron tapped his calves, working his way up to his thighs. The first slap to Draco’s naked arse was small, the skin barely vibrating under Ron’s hand. He soothed the spot before striking again.

His hand came down faster as the slaps continued, and soon Draco’s arse was a soft cherry red. They were about halfway through, and usually at this point, Ron would switch to a toy, or put a vibrator against his bollocks, maybe even slip a dildo in his arse. He loved teasing Draco, loved hearing his whimpers and whines and moans as they warmed up.

Tonight was different. Draco was tense, his body gripping the wood as Ron’s hand came down upon his skin. His eyes were closed tight, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip. No tears were flowing yet, but Ron knew it was only a matter of time.

He needed Draco to let go.

Let go of the pain of his past, of the pressure, of the need for approval and acceptance.

Draco needed to heal, and to heal, he needed to break.

“You’re doing so well, love,” Ron said. He bent down to kiss the divot at the back of Draco’s spine, giving his arse a break before continuing.

Ron’s hand had a sting to it by the time the forty spanks were complete. He usually loved giving Draco punishment for one silly infraction or another, usually Draco being cheeky, or because he was being a real pisser. But tonight, Draco wasn’t enjoying it.

“Colour,” Ron asked after the room had been silent for over a minute. He heard Draco sniffle, but Draco often had tears in his eyes when they played. The sniffle didn’t concern him. The wailing that was coming is what made Ron nervous.

Still, his partner, his pet, needed this. And Ron was a good Dominant. He’d do anything that he thought would benefit Draco.

They had discussed tonight’s plan at length. He had even sent Draco out to collect his own sticks, and Ron had spent the previous night pulling leaves off the birchwood and knotting the end with a bit of binding.

He dragged the whip across the floor, letting Draco hear the rustle of sticks as it ran across the concrete.

“Colour, pet,” he asked. Ron was now standing directly in front of the whipping post, his leather boots once again visible in front of Draco. He hoped their presence would remind Draco that he was there for him, that they were in this together. That he could trust Ron.

A little verbal reassurance wouldn’t hurt either.

“I’ve got you, my love.”

Draco sniffled again. “Green, Sir.”

Ron nodded, even though Draco couldn’t see him. He checked his wrists and his ankles, ensuring circulation, before dragging the bundle of sticks down Draco’s spine, and letting it rest on the mounds of his arse.

“Count them down for me.” He picked up the switch, and with a flick of his wrist, let it crash down across Draco’s reddened skin.

Draco gasped, as the stripe across his backside bloomed a dark hue. “Ten,” he finally let out, and Ron left the whip resting across his skin while the pain spread throughout his body.

Nine, eight and seven went the same way, with Draco gasping out the number, and Ron waiting for the pain to subside before continuing.

By the time they reached number six, Draco was crying.

Number four, and Draco was wailing, his hands pulling at the restraints, his ankles fighting to move.

Draco could barely say two, the sound coming out more as a scream than a number.

Ron held his breath, as the last lash crested across Draco’s skin. He could see the individual switch marks, lined up across his pale backside. Even with the earlier spanking, each line bloomed a dark amber.

Cries filled the room, and as soon as the wood reverberated off of Draco’s skin for the last time, Ron had him out of his shackles and into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into Draco’s ear as Draco continued to cry, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t, I’m so sorry,” Draco babbled in between sobs.

Ron rocked him back and forth. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s all okay.”

“I’m sorryI’m sorryI’m sorry,” Draco continued, unable to stop himself.

All Ron could do was hold Draco as he cried, as he purged the demons that clung to him from his actions during the war. It didn’t matter how much Ron told him that there was nothing to forgive, that they were children, that Draco didn’t have a choice, and did what he had to do to survive. Draco needed to repent.

Finally, Draco’s howls turned to quiet sobs, and eventually he stilled in Ron’s arms, Ron cradling his head against his shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“Want to go home now?” Ron whispered into Draco’s ear. He felt Draco’s nod, and the room provided a fireplace for the pair to Floo back to Draco’s flat.

Ron had never been in Draco’s home. It took him two tries before he finally opened the correct door, and found Draco’s tidy room. He gently put the man in his arms softly on his bed, and stepping out of his clothes and boots, he wrapped himself carefully across Draco’s back.

With a twirl of his wand, Ron pulled the comforter up around them both, and pulling Draco tight, he let Draco drift off to sleep.

Ron himself wouldn’t sleep for quite a while. He kept checking Draco’s temperature, his pulse, waiting for Draco to drop slightly before waking him up again.

After an hour or so, Ron gently nudged Draco awake, and encouraged him to drink a glass of water, and eat a bit of fruit.

“How do you feel?” Ron asked hesitantly. He needed to know, but he was fearful for the answer.

“Sore,” Draco answered honestly. “And a bit shaky.”

“You want me to heal it?” Ron had his wand at the ready, anxious to cast the charm that would alleviate Draco’s pain.

“No.” Draco buried himself back in Ron’s arms. “Ask me later?”

“Sure.” Ron kissed Draco’s hair, the back of his neck. “You did so well, my love.”

Draco answered with a breathy snore.


Ron checked on Draco two more times during the night, and by the time the sun had risen in the morning, he was feeling reassured that Draco was alright. He had slept well, had drank fluids, and even managed to finish an entire banana and an apple, which for Draco was quite a bit of food.

When the sun finally made its way through the thick green curtains, Draco stirred.

“Good morning, love,” Ron whispered into his ear, pulling him closer to his chest. He nuzzled into the back of Draco’s neck, his hands splayed across Draco’s chest. “How do you feel?”

“Sore, but okay,” Draco murmured. He pushed his hips back into Ron’s groin, and let out a sigh when he felt the weight of Ron’s early morning cock, hard, pressed against his tender arse. “Looks like you’re doing okay as well.”

“Got to hold my boyfriend all night, so yes, I’m doing just fine.”

The second he said it, he thought it was a mistake. They’d said at the beginning, no boyfriends. Just occasional friends who played together.

But Draco had trusted him last night, had needed him. And Ron needed Draco as well, wanted to tell all of their friends, wanted to spoil him and invite him to his flat, and see his face in the morning when he woke up.

He thought Draco would stiffen in his arms, would tell him to leave, maybe even scream it until Ron reached the Floo. Instead, he pulled Ron’s arms closer around him, and snuggled further under the sheets.

Ron let himself relax, let his hands drift up and down Draco’s chest, dipping down to caress his thighs before working their way back up to his stomach.

Draco sighed, arching into Ron’s touch. When Ron’s knuckle grazed the hardening ridge of Draco’s cock, Draco let out a little mewl.

“How’s your arse, love?” Ron asked, and that word had a new meaning for him now. He loved Draco, that much was for sure. He would do anything for him, for his submissive. He wasn’t sure that he was in love with Draco, not yet, but the feeling was there, and it was growing stronger by the day.

“Be better if you were in it,” Draco murmured, rolling his hips back into Ron’s cock.

“You sure you can take it?”

“I can take anything you want to give me,” Draco laughed.

Whatever Ron had expected from the morning after his punishment last night, a naked, cheery Draco was not it. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and Draco could hardly wait to enjoy his new freedom.

So much so, that before Ron knew it, Draco was twisting in his arms, dipping lower and lower on the mattress until his mouth was hovering deliciously over Ron’s thick cock.

They had never discussed intimacy outside of Desire, and Ron was curious to see if Draco wanted to be dominated outside of the playroom as well. Normally, he would ask - or hopefully beg - for his Master’s cock to fill his mouth, but in the softness of his bedroom, rather than of the concrete mold of the club, the question didn’t seem as necessary.

Still, Draco waited patiently, his breath hot against Ron’s burgeoning need, and it wasn’t until Ron threaded his fingers through soft blond locks that Draco bent down and took the entirety of Ron’s cock into his sweet mouth.

“Blimey,” Ron gasped, the nails of his fingers digging into Draco’s scalp as he took him down his throat. “Are you getting my cock ready to ride?”

Draco moaned, and the vibrations around his hardened member made Ron’s eyes roll back in his head. Ron sat up, adjusting so his back was pressed against the headboard, and twisted a finger into his own mouth. Draco shifted as well, and soon Ron was able to stretch and work his slicked finger around Draco’s hole, teasing him with every bob of Draco’s head.

His other hand splayed across Draco’s arsecheek, and as he ran his hand up and down the skin, Ron could still feel the welts from last nights birching. He pressed into one, gently, and pressed harder when Draco whined around his cock.

“It’s going to be like me spanking you all over again, your pretty pink arse bouncing up and down on my cock.” Ron groaned the last word, as Draco swallowed him down as far as he could, letting the tip of Ron’s cock drag against the back of his throat.

Ron pushed his finger all the way in, conjuring lube wandlessly, a charm whispered into the air. Draco hummed around Ron’s length in approval, and after a bit, Ron worked in a second, curling the tips of his fingers in the process.

He didn’t have to stretch him long; after only a minute, Draco was hungrily rolling his hips back onto Ron’s hand, his mouth gasping around Ron’s cock more than swallowing him down.

“You want this, darling?” Ron asked, even though he knew the answer. He loved to hear Draco beg for his hands, for his cock. For him.

Draco let go of Ron’s cock with a pop, before his grey eyes met Ron’s own. “Yes, please Ron, please let me ride your cock.”

“You’ve been such a good boy,” Ron grinned, kicking the sheets to the bottom of the bed. He pulled Draco close to him, giving him a rewarding kiss, deep and seductive, before letting him go.

Damn, then Draco smiled, and Ron’s entire body pulsed with happiness. He couldn’t wait to see that smile again, hopefully every morning when they woke up, or even every evening before they fell asleep, holding each other close.

As Draco straddled Ron’s lap, his heart fluttered with happiness, while his fingers gripped the pale skin of Draco’s hip bones. He helped Draco lower himself slowly, inch by antagonizing inch, until Draco was fully seated on Ron’s cock.

Draco looked so blissful, his spine curved, his head tossed back. He started to rotate his hips, taking Ron deeper and deeper into his core with every movement. Ron had taken so much pleasure out of taking Draco apart and putting him back together, that he wanted Draco to take some pleasure in himself.

The sighs and moans escaping his throat as he rode Ron’s cock were so beautiful, Draco finally accepting what he deserved.

And soon Ron was the one crying, small tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he watched his boyfriend chase his pleasure, rutting gorgeously on Ron’s lap.

“Yes, fuck, yes Ron,” Draco moaned, his hips rising and falling in a tantalizing rhythm.

“That’s my good boy, use my cock,” Ron praised, drawn into the allure of Draco, so sinewy and light and captivating. He wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock, adding to Draco’s pleasure and moans.

“Oh, gods,” Draco sighed as his hands found their way to Ron’s chest, balancing himself as he bounced up and down on Ron’s freckled skin.

“I want you to ride me as long as you can, love, and then come. Tell me when, yeah? And I’ll come with you.” Ron gasped as Draco clenched around him. “You’re so stunning, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Draco tossed his hair back off of his face, and Ron could see his entire body light up with an increased pleasure at Ron’s words. He rode him harder, bouncing with renewed vigor on Ron’s aching length.

He continued like that, filling the sound of the room only with skin hitting skin, Draco’s moans escaping his throat, and Ron’s breath shakily exhaling.

All too soon, Draco cried out, “Oh gods, Ron, I’m going to come, oh, please, please.”

“Come, love.”

Draco let out a cry, and twisting his hips, he came, pulsing into Ron’s hand.

He stilled as Ron tugged on his cock, milking him for all of his pleasure, and when Draco lifted up a little on his knees, Ron pounded into him, once, twice, three times.

“Fill me up, oh gods, Ron.”

Ron came, spilling into Draco’s tight arse, his eyes filled with the glorious man straddling his lap, and his mind filled with that smile.

After a quick charm, Ron pulled Draco back to the mattress, covering him in kisses and arms and legs.

“So good,” Ron cooed into Draco’s ear.

“I know.” Draco retorted. “So…”

Ron instantly stiffened. He knew he had gotten off too easy with the whole boyfriend thing.

“Boyfriend, hmm?”

“Only if you want to be,” Ron said, his heart racing.

“Does that mean I have to go to Weasley Sunday Dinners?”

“It’d be nice.” Ron thought about the big group around the table, having Draco next to him. Holding his hand, whispering into his ear. Dragging him off to the loo, or his childhood bedroom, making him come before dessert was served.

“What will Granger think?” Draco shook his head.

“She’ll be happy I’m happy,” Ron shrugged.

“And Potter?” Draco stilled in his arms, and Ron could tell he was a little nervous.

Ron paused, and collected his thoughts. “He’ll be a little surprised. He knows I’m seeing someone, knows how happy they’ve been making me. I think he’ll be more shocked you’re dating a Weasley than anything else.”

“That was the old me,” Draco said, his voice quiet and small.

“I know.” Ron kissed his cheek, and held him tight. “You’re not that boy anymore.”

“Am I still your boy?”

“Yes, pet,” Ron kissed his neck, his hair. “Such a good boy for me.”
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