Ron has always wanted to get his hands on Draco, always since the day they met. To knock him down, to make him cry. But it's different now and Ron doesn't know when things changed.
Now Ron wants to mark Draco's skin, not with his fists, but with his mouth, his nails. When Draco falls, Ron wants to fall on top of him, weigh him down, grind him into the dirt. When Draco cries, he'll cry for more, more, harder, please.
Ron wants to see Draco on his knees, lips around Ron's cock, eyes hot and pleading as Ron fucks his mouth, one hand twisted in Draco's colourless hair. Draco face down and sobbing as Ron rides him, hammers deep inside him, punishes him, Draco taking it all and begging for more. Draco on his back, head flung back, pale neck arching under Ron's teeth at his throat. Draco calling after him as Ron walks away. Please, he'll say, please don't go.
Ron stares at the back of Draco's head and clenches his hands into fists as he pictures this.
Then Draco turns around. Their eyes lock and Ron knows with a sickening certainty that it will be Draco's teeth at Ron's throat and there's nothing he can do about it. He looks away and hopes that when the time comes, he can stop himself from begging.