A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Fifty-Five

"Stop touching it," Blaise hisses, smacking Ron's hand away from his wrist.

"But it itches," Ron whines. "And it burns. How come you're not scratching it?"

"Because it will only make it worse. Come on. I'll put some healing salve on it when we get to the dorms."

"Did he really have to be so harsh?"

"If you thought getting a magical tattoo was a box of chocolates then you're not as smart as I thought you were."

Ron remains silent all the way up the stairs until Blaise pulls him into his room and shuts the door with a final look down the hall, waving his wand around, chanting the familiar locking spells. The redhead watches him as he takes a seat on the bed, his hand holding his arm. "What do you think they're doing?"

"Not sure," Blaise sighs. He walks around the bed to the night table and pulls out a jar. He opens it as he walks back to Ron, takes a seat and his arm, scoops out a glob and smears it on the mark.

The Gryffindor watches Blaise's fingers caress his pale skin, and he looks up at the darker to admire his sharp cheekbones. His free hand travels up to his face, running his thumb over the fullness of Blaise's bottom lip. "I haven't kissed you in a while."

"You don't have to," Blaise murmurs. He closes the jar and sets it aside, leaning back on his hand as Ron continues running the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of Blaise's mouth.

"It's a good thing I want to, then, isn't it?"

"Do you always want to?"

"Well, duh," Ron breathes out a laugh. "Why wouldn't I always want to kiss you?"

Blaise shrugs, trying with difficulty to come up with a valid reason, but Ron just keeps looking at his lips and touching them like they're water and he's been parched for years.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

The darker's mouth becomes dry and he swallows, watching the way the blue in Ron's eyes darken when his lips part with a little exhale. He nods.

"Say it."

Ron dips his thumb between Blaise's gums and lip and he takes the wetness, spreads it over his lip, and the Slytherin can't help the moan that rumbles in his throat. "I want you to kiss me."

With a desperate hum, Ron closes the gap between them, pushes Blaise back on the mattress and climbs all over him, taking Blaise's hands and moving them under his shirt to rest on his abdomen, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

He folds his hands into the back of Blaise's knees and pulls them from their awkward angles, guides them to wrap around him as he lays his weight over the body under him.

Blaise sighs when the redhead starts to lick his mouth, gently running his tongue over his. He runs his fingers up, greedily taking in the freedom of feeling the span of Ron's freckled, scarred skin. Ron moans on his tongue.

"Keep going," he pants, moving down the darker's jaw with open-mouthed kisses.

So Blaise keeps going. He moves his hands, to Ron's sides, around his back and then back to his front, goes up a little. He feels every dip, every jerk of muscle, every welt on Ron's skin and he still can't get enough, so he keeps going. All the way until Ron's shirt is bunched under his collarbones.

The Gryffindor stops praising Blaise's neck for a split second to whip off his shirt and then takes the dark hands to put them back on his skin. He looks directly at Blaise's eyes. "Keep going."

With a gulp, Blaise nods, groaning softly when Ron dives back and starts working on his clavicle. His fingers drift from the base of Ron's spine, slowly, all the way up, while Ron ghosts his lips along Blaise's skin.