eeyore9990 (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} eeyore9990) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} daily_deviant,@ 2008-03-20 14:40:00 |
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Rare Meat; Bill/Teddy (main); Fic; NC-17
Title: Rare Meat
Author: eeyore9990
Characters: Bill/Teddy, Bill/Fleur, Teddy/Victoire
Rating: NC-17-ish
Warnings: Uhh. A lot of female involvement in what should be purely m/m slash, voyeurism, rough sex, maybe elements of dub-con?, blatant abuse of the OMG-he's-not-really-a-werewolfism, more blatant abuse of Metamorphagism, random gills that pop up and disappear at will, wildly inappropriate behaviours, and… maybe adultery? Hmm, that last one depends on what your definition of adultery is, I think. Also, a bit of speculation on the French and their approval of all things kinky.
Themes/kinks chosen: Bi-sexuality
Word Count: 3540
Summary: Bill may not be a full werewolf, but he still likes his meat really rare. (OMG, most lame summary ever… don't tell mctabby, pls)
Author's notes: This is one of those things that, while I'm sure it's really twisted, seems strangely okay to me. Also, it is a bunny that didn't just bite, but also humped my leg a bit when ariadneelda suggested it back on Valentine's day. So. Blame her? :P Thanks to kathrynthegreat for the once-over and to the Vegas girls for the encouragement.
Teddy leaned down, running his nose along the elegant line of Victoire's neck, inhaling her lightly floral perfume even as her hands came up to settle gently at his waist. He groaned quietly, pulling back to look down at her.
"Kiss me," she said, her voice low and breathy.
He made to shake his head, only to catch the blatant desire in her expression. Swallowing heavily, he glanced around, looking for her father or one of her many, many uncles. Anyone who would be willing to pull him limb from limb.
No one was there.
This deliciously tempting young woman was wandering around her house, no one to protect her… it just wouldn't be proper to let her go unkissed. Especially since she was begging so prettily for it.
Angling his head, he whispered huskily, "Just a kiss; just one." His lips brushed hers lightly twice before settling onto them, applying enough pressure to satisfy him but not frighten her. He parted his lips, edging his tongue against the seam of hers, and licked and sucked until her mouth was opened beneath his, her chest brushing his erratically as her breathing and heart rate quickened.
He moaned, sliding his hands around behind her, pulling her closer to him. It wasn't his fault that her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders then, pulling the hem of her shirt up so that his hands touched bare skin. Neither was it his fault that she shimmied against him, her lower half pulling away from him as she encouraged him to explore further.
It certainly wasn't his fault that he'd been dreaming about her breasts for the better part of a year.
It might, however, just might have been his fault that he unhooked her bra.
It was definitely his fault that he pulled his hands around front and palmed her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her delightfully responsive nipples.
The whisper of voices was low and suggestive and… out of place. Bill cursed under his breath, irritated at the interruption, and slammed his quill onto the table. He pushed back from his seat so forcefully that the chair careened into the wall and went stalking through the small house looking for the source of the noise. He didn't notice in his ire that the quill had snapped, leaking ink onto the parchment on which he'd been writing a letter to Gringott's.
Something told him to go quietly, some instinct that he'd learned over the past nineteen years to listen to, so while his fury rode him, he walked on silent feet. What he found made him dangerous.
"Victoire," he said, his voice a mere whisper of sound so enraged was he.
In his house. In his house.
He watched, his eyes burning the course of the boy's hands as they slipped from beneath his daughter's—his daughter's—shirt, from so far up his daughter's shirt that the hem was bunched around her ribcage. He was… beyond anger. Beyond rage. Beyond any human emotion.
His teeth bared, he growled out, "Go to your room." He didn't even bother to watch her leave, his eyes too intent on the young man eyeing him so warily.
He stepped forward, crowding the boy into the corner, between the wall with the picture of his parents and the cabinet where Fleur kept her treasured crystal dishes. When he raised his hands, fisting them in the boy's rather ratty shirt and slamming him into the wall, a tiny, indecipherable voice in the back of his head warned him toward caution.
He did not enjoy his wife's displeasure.
"How would you like to die?" he asked softly, his mouth near the boy's ear, his teeth grazing the edge. The thought flitted through his mind that he could bite down now, rip the flesh away, leave a lasting mark of why it was dangerous to play such games in his house.
To his deep satisfaction, the boy began to struggle against him at that moment.
"Maman! Maman!"
Fleur turned quickly, her hair flying out slightly around her as her daughter ran into her bedroom, breathless and seemingly panic-stricken. Fleur opened her arms automatically, catching the young woman close as she began speaking rapidly, her tone clearly distraught.
Victoire's words were so rushed, such a garble of English and French, that Fleur had to stop her, smoothing a hand through her hair as she spoke in the soothing accents of her homeland. "Darling, I cannot understand you. Take a breath; calm yourself. Now, tell me what is wrong."
Victoire, shaking, raised tear-drenched eyes to her mother and whispered, "He's going to kill him, Maman."
Fleur went perfectly still, her mind automatically flying to the lunar calendar. "Oh. Oh, no. It is the full moon tonight. Who? I must stop him!" Not thinking, she pushed Victoire away, running lightly to the bedside table where she'd dropped her wand earlier. Spinning around again, she raised her voice and said, "Who? And where?"
"I-in the dining room. Father… and Teddy. He was—"
"I have no time for that! Stay here!" Fleur shut the door behind herself, too accustomed to the obedience of her children to bother with a locking charm.
She ran down the stairs and through the house, wild with fear at the overwhelming silence. She lunged through the doorway to the dining room, whipping her head back and forth as she looked for her husband, finally spotting him on the far side of her buffet.
She approached slowly, not wanting to startle him, only to find that he had one hand wrapped around Teddy's neck, cutting off the boy's air. She looked up at Teddy, hoping against hope that the boy was still conscious.
When she looked into his eyes, when she saw the emotion clearly written there, her breath caught.
Gently laying her hands on her husband's back, she leaned up and whispered, "Look at him, my love. Look."
Teddy groaned in pain when Bill Weasley slammed him into the wall the first time. It bloody well hurt. However, as soon as Bill's face pressed close to his, as soon as the animalistic pheromones rolling off Bill had a chance to register on Teddy's senses, the swirling, maddening sensation of pure lust rolled over him, leaving him helpless to the arousal he couldn't attempt to hide.
As he hung there in Bill's grip, his feet dangling an inch or two off the floor, he turned his head, nostrils flaring as he tried to get more of that heady, delicious scent. He'd known that he was susceptible to werewolf pheromones ever since he'd encountered one, a student from Durmstrang, during the previous year's Triwizard Tournament. He had no idea if it was a part of his Metamorphmagus blood he'd inherited from his mother, or some factor of his father having been a werewolf… though he tended to think it was a gift from his Mum. It certainly explained to him why she'd been so set on marriage to a man so much older and less vivacious than she.
Bill's low, rumbling threat and the edge of teeth on his ear made Teddy shiver violently, causing him to twist in Bill's grip, fighting to move closer, to press against the strength and violence so thinly constrained.
Bill growled, the sound somehow menacing and satisfied at once, and shifted one hand from the front of Teddy's shirt to his neck, the fingers digging in cruelly. Teddy took a few seconds to gasp for breath before he closed his eyes and concentrated, opening a gill above his lungs so that he couldn't be choked into unconsciousness.
However, the pure violence that thickened the atmosphere of the room also increased the amount of pheromones polluting the air, made them so concentrated that Teddy was overwhelmed. He felt the rising pulse of lust, went weak with it, and simply hung there in Bill's hands, his entire body on fire with need.
He barely registered Fleur's rather dramatic entrance, his whole being focussed on the man in front of him.
Bill went stiff when he felt the light touch on his back, his first reaction to drop the boy in his hands to turn and fight. When he heard Fleur's voice, however, he relaxed. It was her; she was his comfort and strength. She would drive the madness away. The part of him not boiling over with anger went weak with relief.
Her voice in his ear made him focus, made him half-turn toward her. He heard it then, what she was trying to tell him. "Look at him," she said, and his eyes obeyed.
He looked up, past the place his hand was biting into the flesh of Teddy Lupin's neck, and saw first the slackness of the facial features. He would have thought Teddy was already unconscious but for the fact that his hair was flipping erratically through a great variety of colours. One moment it was the brightest orange, the next a burgundy so deep that it almost appeared purple.
Secondary to the show his hair was putting on, though, was the look in his eyes. The colour was a swirling red, sucking Bill in… feral, almost. Beyond the colour was the need. It stole Bill's breath, turned his anger into something deeper, something at once easier to understand and far more difficult to contend with.
With a stuttered breath, Bill felt his body come to life. Between the gentle press of Fleur's hands on his back and the needy, now-writhing body beneath his own hands, his anger shot straight past arousal and into the realm of obsession.
Fleur knew her husband's body almost better than she knew her own. The instant Bill's raging emotions turned to lust, she knew it. Knew it and gloried in it. If she could keep him focussed on sex, she could guide him through this killing urge and keep him from breaking himself.
Using that knowledge, she eased her hands up his strong, muscular back, kneading those places she knew would keep his arousal at a fever pitch. Her hands encountered the thick length of his hair then, and she dug her fingers into it, pulling the tie free.
Letting the tie drift to the floor forgotten, she grabbed bunches of Bill's hair, tugging almost harshly on it as she lowered her voice to its most alluring tone and began speaking.
"He is so luscious, so young. His flesh is so tender. He needs you, Bill, as much as you need him. He wants you to pummel him with your body. Look at him. Measure his need. Feel it. I know you can."
"Fleur—" Bill's voice choked off, his head dropping forward to nearly pull his hair from her grasp.
She smiled, pressing her entire body against him as she whispered, "Fuck him, Bill. He deserves it. Punish him. He wants it."
She might have no idea what had actually happened to drive Bill into the rage she'd seen upon first entering the room, but she knew her daughter. And she knew the nature of young men. It didn't take a Seer to put those together and approach a reasonable conclusion.
Looking up into the face of her daughter's boyfriend, she smiled her most sultry smile and said, "Don't you, Teddy?"
Teddy saw the moment Bill's rage turned to desire and his own need ratcheted up another notch. He heard Fleur speaking, but it was difficult to concentrate. He heard only bits and pieces, enough to enflame him and keep him on the edge.
"He needs you…"
God, yes.
"Fuck him…"
He would have groaned if he could have, his need was so fierce.
"He wants it…"
Yes, yes… want…
"Don't you, Teddy?"
Teddy had to close his eyes, focus on the lines zigzagging behind his lids for a moment so he could control his body enough to make the gill absorb back into his skin and reroute his breathing patterns back up through his throat. As soon as he was able to draw a breath through his normal pathways, he spoke. "Yes, God yes, need it, please."
His voice came out broken and rough, a product of the abuse his throat had taken, literally, at Bill's hands. It hurt to speak, hurt to swallow, but he didn't care. He couldn't care. All he could truly focus on was the need burning through him.
"Please, please," he murmured hoarsely. "Fuck me."
Teddy's broken begging drove Bill wild. His hands, now relaxed around Teddy's throat, slid down to grip the boy's shoulders, pinning him to the wall once again as his body surged forward, pressing, pressing…
His cock, still clothed, slid against Teddy's and his own sharp cry was echoed in his ear.
Tearing at Teddy's shirt with his bare hands, he lowered his mouth to the bruises already ringing the boy's neck and began biting at them, licking them, sucking them into his mouth to taste the blood that rose just beneath the surface.
"Going to fuck you," he murmured, beyond caring. He couldn't have stopped now if his entire family was standing in the room shouting for him to do so; the fact that his darling wife was behind him whispering increasingly excited encouragement was simply the icing on the cake.
He felt the tremors run through the lean, strong body under his before Teddy turned his head and whispered, "Do it."
Though no one was touching her, Fleur's own breathing was laboured due to the arousal spiking through her at the mere thought of watching Bill take Teddy against the wall of their home. She sighed raggedly, pressing against Bill from behind, rubbing her breasts against his back as she murmured encouragement. She was so lost to the thrill of the moment that she didn't even realise she'd slipped into French, and to be honest, it didn't matter.
She heard the mingled frustration and excitement in the muffled cries of both men; pulling her wand free, she brandished it just so and watched eagerly as the clothing below their waists fell away. She sucked in a shuddering breath then, dropping the hand not entangled in Bill's hair to his buttocks, kneading and massaging the firm flesh.
She glanced around wildly, realising then that something was missing. As active and varied as their sex life was, she knew Bill would need some form of lubrication so as not to truly injure Teddy. Her wand came in handy again and it wasn't long before a non-descript black jar darted through the air toward her outstretched hand.
She grabbed it, twisting the top off with more determination than finesse, and scooped out more of the viscous gel than was absolutely necessary. Moving close behind Bill, she reached around him, going on tiptoe to stretch far enough to fully encase his cock from this angle. She smoothed her hand over the strong length several times, glorying in the way his hips bucked into her grip, treasuring the needy growl that vibrated from deep in his chest.
She smiled then and dropped to her knees, placing a lingering kiss on the pale, lightly haired skin of Bill's thigh before she reached up and under him.
Teddy groaned as something brushed softly against the very head of his cock and he looked down, enraptured by the vision of a dainty, well-manicured hand smoothing lube onto Bill's cock. He sighed in sympathy when the hand was removed, only to gasp a moment later when it reappeared, pressing insistently between his own still-closed thighs.
Teddy let his head loll back, banging rather loudly against the wall behind him even as he spread his legs, allowing Bill to take his weight as he brought them up and locked his ankles behind Bill's broad back.
Slim fingers, wet with lube, pressed against him, parting his arse cheeks and delving between. They swirled briefly around his sensitive hole before firmly pushing through the tight ring of muscles, slowly but insistently stretching him and preparing him for the fucking he so desperately wanted.
He groaned again, his hips jerking as he tried to work himself on those fingers, knowing somehow that they would never stretch him enough to truly avoid the inevitable pain, but also glorying in that knowledge.
Finally the fingers slipped free and once again wrapped around Bill's cock, guiding it toward Teddy's arse. He sucked in a sharp breath, turning his head away and biting his lip as he opened his eyes….
And saw Victoire standing on the far side of the room, her hand covering her mouth as her wide, beautiful eyes tried to make sense of the scene she was viewing.
Bill growled, the heat of the boy's body calling to him. He braced his legs, gritting his teeth at feeling the silky brush of Fleur's hair along the backs of his thighs, and pushed. The small, helpless whimper from Teddy as he breached the rim of the boy's arse was nearly enough to push him straight over the edge.
He growled again, the sound almost too sharp, and thrust upward until his body was stopped by Teddy's hips. He rested there, panting harshly, eyes squeezed closed against the impossibly tight heat of the arse enveloping his cock.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, pulling back and thrusting forward again. "Is it?"
"Ahh, God…" Teddy whispered, the sound filled with the same unbearable pleasure Bill was being wracked by.
"Tell me, boy, is this what you were hoping to receive, coming into my house and touching my daughter?" Somehow, through the sensations rocketing through him, he was clear-headed enough to put thought to the rage still simmering in the background of his mind.
"No… not this. Didn't think…"
"You didn't think," Bill said, pulling back and slamming forward, "that I would object to you defiling my daughter?"
"Didn't mean… oh, God, yes. I… I didn't… please too slow… more!"
"You will never touch my daughter again, do you understand? If you do, I will take it as an invitation," Bill hissed in Teddy's ear, then had to grit his teeth as the boy's entire body was taken with shivers.
"Yes, yes, anything, God, anything, just… oh, please, fuck me," Teddy whispered, his head falling onto Bill's shoulder as his legs tightened around Bill's waist.
Bill clenched his teeth, his body pummelling Teddy's as he released the small amount of control he could claim. His hips snapped back and forth, the pleasure mounting higher and higher, Fleur's whispers mingling with Teddy's gasps to push him dangerously close to the edge.
Just as he thought he couldn't last another moment, two things happened nearly simultaneously. Fleur's face pressed into his arse as she tilted her head to lick tenderly at the backside of his bollocks and Teddy's channel rippled as the boy began to come.
Bill's shout was nearly a howl then as the pleasure cramping his belly released, his bollocks drawing tight up against his body as Teddy's arse milked his orgasm from him.
Teddy looked around the dinner table, wondering if he was the only one experiencing the absolutely surreal aspect of the moment. Mere hours after being fucked through the wall by Bill, he was sitting here sharing a meal with him. He was very determinedly not looking at the plate in front of the other man, the sight of the meat nearly dripping with blood enough to make him squeamish.
He glanced from beneath his lashes at his dining companions, noting the colour that remained high on Victoire's cheeks and the way she couldn't quite meet his or anyone else's eyes. He swallowed a sigh, knowing that time and a great deal of talking would be necessary to mend this particular fence.
He was just about to look away when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Victoire was looking up, beneath her lashes much as he was, her gaze as it bounced between him and her father… considering.
Teddy nearly dropped his fork in shock. He swallowed the mouthful of potatoes he'd been rolling around in his mouth and reached for the glass of wine sitting before his plate, wincing as the movement made him shift on his still slightly sore arse. He looked directly at Victoire this time, his eyes spearing into hers as he sought to understand the expression there.
She blushed faintly and looked down, though he didn't miss the way her mouth quirked up slightly at the corners.
Thinking hard, he looked across the table to Fleur, who was cutting and eating in precise, elegant movements. She glanced up, feeling the weight of his gaze, and smiled demurely before lowering her eyes once again to her plate.
Fucking hell, he thought. They aren't at all bothered by this. They're French!
A small, mischievous smile curved his own lips before he sat back in his seat, allowing his fork to fall to his plate. When he was sure he had the attention of everyone else at the table, he dropped his hand beneath the edge.
Victoire's sharp, shocked gasp as he squeezed her thigh was music to his ears.
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