InsaneJournal

LMoM: 1979 (Part 15~ April 12, 1979)
Title: 1979
Today’s Date: April 12, 1979
Rating: R
Word count: ~900
Pairing: Remus/Severus
Kink(s): bondage
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2008
Summary: 1979: One of the worst years of Remus's life. Also, one of the best.
Today’s Episode: The next night, Remus asked Severus to tie him up.
Notes: The possibly insane blpaintchart has agreed to speed beta and Brit pick for as long as she can stand it while I try this…so generous is my Chart!! Not only that, she is veritable font of ideas! Also, thank you to McKay for running this crazy thing.

Need to catch up? Here are the previous parts:Jan 1, Jan 15: Day, Jan 15: Night, Feb 2, Feb 9, Feb 20, Mar 10, Mar 24, Mar 25, Mar 25: Later, Mar 26, Mar 31, Apr 1, Apr 11




Whether driven by self-loathing, or the impending full moon, or lust, or the desire to give up making any decisions for himself, he didn’t know. But the next night, Remus asked Severus to tie him up.

There was a little flash of fear in Severus’s eyes when Remus told him what he wanted, but that was quickly replaced by his mirror calm and a subtle smirk.

“One night away from me and this is the result?” he said in his cool drawl.

Remus had not, in fact, gone back to Severus the night before, thankfully, as he had spent most of the early morning hours ill and shaking and draped over the toilet.

“Just do it, Severus. Please?” Remus replied from the bed. Severus must have seen Remus’s need, because without any further commentary, he nodded, pointed his wand, and conjured two thin cords that wrapped around Remus’s wrists. Remus spared a moment to think he has done this part before, and then lay back on the bed and spread his arms. The cords wrapped around the bedposts and pulled him down flat.

“My legs as well,” he said, and Severus’s smooth cords pulled him spread eagle on the bed.

They were both still fully dressed, so Severus stalked around the bed like a cat, methodically vanishing each article of Remus’s clothing with little flicks and twists of his wand, until Remus was naked and exposed and helpless on the bed.

Remus almost let out a sob at the knowledge of how much he deserved this comforting humiliation.

Severus did not remove a single article of his own clothing, but kneeled on the bed between Remus’s legs, trailing his wand tip up and down the skin of Remus’s inner thighs. Remus trembled at the ticklish torture, arching his back and closing his eyes.

"Is this what you want, wolf?" Severus asked, his voice pitched low.

"Yes," Remus moaned.

Severus leaned down and dragged his tongue in one slow lick up the shaft of Remus's half-hard cock. "And this?" he asked.

It was just what Remus wanted. He felt completely powerless. "Thought of nothing else since last night," he murmured back. Remus wanted to grab a handful of Severus's hair, but he couldn't move.

“What did you do without me last night?” Severus asked, trailing his wand up onto Remus’s belly, turning little circles in Remus’s soft flesh. Remus was desperate to twitch away, but he couldn’t move. It was sweet agony.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” Remus replied.

Severus leaned in and ran his tongue up Remus’s chest to his neck, probing the indent at the base of his throat with this tongue. His itchy wool jumper rubbed against Remus’s skin and made him groan with the need to move. Remus tugged at the bindings holding him.

“I want to hear everything,” Severus murmured, licking up Remus’s neck and ghosting hot breath around his ear. “Where did you go?”

“Why do you care?” Remus’s body was tingling with the thrill of his own powerlessness.

“I want to know what could have possibly been preferable to another night with me,” Severus said, and his lips met Remus’s in a hungry, needy kiss.

“You really don’t want to know, Severus,” Remus said as Severus broke off the kiss. He added a slight hint of end-of-conversation firmness to his voice.

Severus sat up at that, the seductive purr gone from his voice, eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, I do.” His wand tip was drifting aimlessly around Remus’s chest.

Remus met his probing look. “Fine then. I saw some friends,” he said, suddenly regretting putting himself in Severus’s power so completely.

“Which friends?” Severus asked, pulling back further, and Remus knew he was in trouble.

“You know which friends, Severus. I only have a few.”

Severus’s expression shut down completely, as if a brick wall had been constructed across his brow.

“I prefer to forget that, Lupin,” he said, his voice icy. The arousal pooling in Remus’s gut moments before evaporated with Severus’s chilly response.

“It was the shittiest night in the world, Severus. Don’t be like this,” Remus said, lifting his head and straining against the bindings.

“This is what I’m like, Lupin. If you do not like it, perhaps I should be on my way.” To Remus’s horror, Severus pulled himself off the bed and reached for his boots, yanking them on.

“Fuck, Severus, look at me! I’m bollock naked and tied up! You can do whatever you want to me right now. Anything! What are you doing?” Remus was ashamed at the desperation in his own voice. He wanted to wrap comforting arms around Severus and murmur they are all miserable arses, I only thought of you the entire night, but he was bound and trapped, and the horror of what had actually happened the night before made the words stick in his throat.

"And why would I want to do anything with someone who continues to consider a gang of bullies his friends?” Severus retorted, grabbing his coat.

“So I have to choose between you and them? Is that what you are saying?”

Severus paused, as if considering for a moment, and then said, “Yes, Lupin, I suppose that is what I am saying.” He turned to the door.

“You cannot leave me like this!” A shiver of terror ran up Remus’s spine as he realized that was exactly what Severus was planning to do.

“I cannot? Watch me."

He spun on his heel and walked out the bedroom door.

"Severus!" Remus shouted, but then the front door slammed shut with horrible finality.

Remus let his head fall back on the mattress, wishing the thin cords pinching his wrists and ankles could pull harder, cut deeper, hurt more. He wanted it. Hell, he deserved it.