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The alarm clock flashed 3:07 AM when Draco Malfoy’s left slipper made a sickening squelch. Cold water soaked through silk pajama pants halfway up his calf. He froze mid-step, nostrils flaring at the damp, metallic smell suddenly thick in the air.
"Fucking hell."
Water gushed from a split pipe under the kitchen sink. It pulsed like a severed artery across polished black tiles. Draco’s jaw tightened. He hated mess. Hated inconvenience. Hated being awake at this unholy hour. His phone felt heavy and unwelcome in his hand as he scrolled past contacts labeled "Do Not Answer" and "Worse Than Trolls." His thumb hovered over the only 24-hour plumber in wizarding London.
Twenty minutes later, a heavy fist pounded on the front door. Draco yanked it open, ready to snap. The words died on his tongue.
The man filling his doorway looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards after a week-long brawl. Faded denim clung to thick thighs. A worn leather jacket hung open over a grease-stained white tee. Red hair, longer than Draco remembered, was tied in a messy knot at the nape of a tattooed neck. A silver hoop glinted in one eyebrow.
"Ron Weasley?" Draco blinked.
Ron shoved past him, dripping rainwater onto the flooded floor. "Place looks like a lake threw up in here." His voice was gravel rough with sleep. Or maybe just perpetual irritation. He dropped a heavy toolbox with a thud that made the water tremble. "Shutoff valve’s where?"
"Under the sink." Draco leaned against the doorframe, silk pajamas clinging damply. "Didn’t know you moonlighted as a plumber."
Ron crouched, muscles straining against his tee as he reached into the dark cabinet. "Didn’t know you still lived like a prince in this tomb." Water sprayed his forearm as he wrestled with a valve. "Fuck! Hold this torch."
Draco took the heavy metal flashlight, letting his fingers brush Ron’s calloused hand. "Need a hand with anything else?"
Ron glanced up. Water droplets clung to his stubble. His eyes narrowed. "Just the light, Malfoy."
Draco smiled slowly. "Shame."
He angled the torch beam deliberately low, illuminating the water swirling around Ron's worn boots. The plumber's knuckles whitened as he strained against the stubborn valve. A low curse escaped him, rough and guttural. Draco watched the flex of Ron's shoulders beneath the damp tee, the way rainwater still glistened in the copper strands escaping his knot.
"Bit stiff, is it?" Draco murmured, shifting his weight. His silk pajama top gaped open slightly at the collar. "Everything seems... rather tight back there."
Ron froze. He didn't turn, but his head tilted just enough for Draco to see the sharp edge of his profile. "Talk like that," he growled, voice thick with something other than annoyance, "and I'll charge extra for the attitude."
The valve finally gave with a rusty screech. The torrent under the sink choked to a resentful drip. Silence rushed in, thick and charged, broken only by the soft slap of water against tile. Ron straightened, wiping his wet hands on his jeans.
He turned fully, his gaze locking onto Draco’s. It wasn't friendly.
Draco didn’t flinch. He took a deliberate step closer, the flashlight beam now catching the intricate ink swirling up Ron’s forearms, disappearing under rolled sleeves. "Extra?" Draco breathed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What precisely does that entail? Money seems so... impersonal."
His gaze drifted pointedly downward, lingering for a heartbeat too long on the worn denim straining over Ron’s thighs. "Perhaps we could discuss... alternative forms of payment?"
Ron’s nostrils flared. He took a step forward, invading Draco’s space. The damp, metallic smell was suddenly overpowered by leather, engine oil, and raw male sweat.
"Careful, Malfoy," he rasped, his eyes dark pools in the dim light. One calloused hand shot out, fingers rough against Draco’s jaw, tilting his face up. "You keep lookin’ at me like that..." His thumb brushed Draco’s lower lip, a shock of heat against cool skin. "...and we might just flood this fancy flat all over again."
His other hand dropped, knuckles brushing the damp silk clinging to Draco’s hipbone. "You sure your plumbing's the only thing needing...attention?"
Draco’s breath hitched. He leaned into the touch, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I assure you, Weasley," he purred, letting the torch clatter to the wet floor. Darkness swallowed them, leaving only the faint glow from the hallway. "My pipes aren’t the only thing feeling... *backed up*."
He pressed forward, silk sliding against denim, his hand finding the hard ridge straining against Ron’s zipper. "Perhaps you need to... inspect the pressure?" His fingers traced the outline, slow and deliberate. "Thoroughly."
A rough groan tore from Ron’s throat.
He shoved Draco hard against the nearest wall, water splashing around their ankles. Cold plaster met Draco’s back as Ron’s knee shoved between his thighs. "Fucking tease," Ron growled, his breath hot against Draco’s ear.
One hand tangled in Draco’s damp hair, yanking his head back. The other ripped at the silk pajama bottoms, tearing them down Draco’s hips.
Cool air kissed Draco’s skin before Ron’s rough palm replaced it, sliding over his arse. "Always knew you were rotten underneath all that polish," Ron breathed, his fingers digging into Draco’s flesh. "Bet you leak worse than your fucking sink."
He hooked a finger under the waistband of Draco’s briefs, pulling them taut. "Let’s see if you’re worth fixing."
Draco gasped as Ron’s calloused fingertip circled his hole, slick with water and sweat. "Only one way to find out," he choked out, arching his back, offering himself. "Show me your... *tools*, plumber."
Ron’s chuckle was low, dangerous. He spat onto his fingers, the sound obscenely loud in the flooded silence.
Then he pressed – one thick, blunt finger breaching Draco’s tight ring, stretching him open against the cold wall. Draco cried out, a sharp sound swallowed by Ron’s mouth crashing down onto his, tasting of cheap coffee and aggression.
The kiss was brutal, claiming. Ron’s finger worked deeper, twisting, scissoring, while his free hand fumbled with his own belt buckle. The metallic clang echoed off the tiles.
Draco clawed at Ron’s shoulders, drowning in the invasion, the filthy promise of more. Water soaked through his ruined silk, mingling with sweat and spit.
Ron pulled back from the kiss, panting, his eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. "Payment first, Malfoy," he rasped, withdrawing his finger slowly, leaving Draco aching and empty. "Then I’ll unclog you properly."
He shoved Draco down onto his knees in the icy water. "Earn your fucking discount."
Draco didn’t hesitate.
His hands trembled only slightly as he freed Ron’s thick cock from the denim, already slick with precome. The piercings glinted – silver rings through the head, cold against Draco’s tongue as he took Ron deep, gagging slightly on the sudden fullness.
Ron groaned, fisting a hand in Draco’s hair, guiding his rhythm. "Suck like you mean it, you spoiled prick," Ron snarled, thrusting deeper.
Draco choked, tears stinging his eyes, but he hollowed his cheeks, lapping at the salty skin, tasting the musk and metal. Water sloshed around his knees. He felt Ron’s thighs trembling against his shoulders, heard the ragged breaths turning into guttural curses.
Ron’s grip tightened, pulling Draco impossibly closer. "Gonna flood that pretty mouth," Ron warned, voice thick and strained.
Draco’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull back, swallowing convulsively as Ron shuddered, spilling hot and bitter down Draco’s throat. He coughed, pulling away, lips swollen and wet. Ron grinned down at him, wiping his cock on Draco’s shoulder. "Down payment accepted."
Before Draco could catch his breath, Ron hauled him up, spun him around, and slammed him face-first onto the flooded kitchen floor. Cold water instantly soaked Draco’s chest. Ron knelt behind him, spreading Draco’s thighs wide with rough hands. "Hold tight, princess," Ron growled, gripping Draco’s hips.
Ron’s tongue—cold metal from the piercing scraping skin—dragged slow and filthy up Draco’s cleft. Draco gasped, arching as the wet heat circled his hole. Ron chuckled darkly, breath ghosting over Draco’s skin. "Tastes expensive," he taunted, tongue flattening against the tight ring before spearing inside. Draco cried out, fingers scrabbling on slick tile. The metal stud teased his rim relentlessly.
One thick finger joined Ron’s tongue, breaching Draco with brutal ease. Then another, stretching him open, curling deep. Draco whimpered, pushing back against the invasion. "Fuck—yes!" he choked, water sloshing against his cheek. Ron’s fingers crooked sharply, rubbing that spot inside him until Draco’s thighs shook. "That’s it," Ron rasped, biting Draco’s arse cheek hard enough to bruise. "Squirt for me."
Draco came untouched, back bowing as white streaks pulsed into the filthy water beneath him. Ron watched, fingers still buried deep, as Draco trembled through the aftershocks. "Pathetic," Ron muttered, but his voice was thick with arousal. He withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving Draco empty and shuddering on the flooded floor. Water lapped at Draco’s spent body as he panted.
He offered Draco a hand. Draco took it, wincing as his knees protested. They stood in the wreckage – water still ankle-deep, Draco’s silk pajamas ruined, tools scattered near the gaping cabinet under the sink.
Ron pulled a crumpled invoice pad from his jacket. He scribbled something, tore off the top sheet, and pressed it into Draco’s palm. "Payment details," he said, voice rough but lacking its earlier bite.
Draco glanced at the paper. Instead of a galleon amount, Ron had wrote his address.
Draco’s eyebrow arched. "Presumptuous."
Ron shrugged, gathering his toolbox. "Your pipes are fixed. Rest is optional." He paused at the door, rainwater dripping from his hair onto the soaked welcome mat. "Choice is yours, Malfoy."