LMOM #28: On Admiration and Obsession [Remus/Severus, NC-17] Title: On Admiration and Obsession Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 932 Pairing: Remus/Severus Kinks: fetish (hand), wanking (mutual), finger sucking, kissing, first time Challenge: Lusty Month of May (#28)
The first thing I noticed about you, apart from your nose, and your hair, and your brooding personality, was your hands. It was an idle observation, during a potions class. It was a quick thought. One I never should have had, but did... one that I couldn't get rid of once I had it. "He has nice hands."
A simple enough thought... it should have faded away once I noticed it. The palm is wide but thin, and it curves delicately. You can see the bones and bluish veins standing out slightly from your ivory skin. When you move your fingers I can see the tendons pull under the skin. But your hands aren't too skinny, or skeletal. The palms are fleshy and warm... and they look oh so soft.
Your fingers are long; I don't think I've ever seen anyone with fingers as long and thin as yours. The knuckles are slightly prominent, but they don't over dominate your fingers at all. They fit. Perfect. You keep the nails short. But it isn't a well-trimmed shortness that one would expect to top fingers like yours. They aren't manicured and polished. Your cuticles are wild and unkempt as evidenced by the hangnails that you chew on when you think no one is looking. And when you're nervous... very... very nervous... you occasionally peel at your nails until they are shorter – but you never bite them.
You wash your hands almost obsessively. I've sometimes wondered if you aren't a bit obsessive compulsive. You wash before every meal, between classes, and other times beyond what's considered normal. You always wash the same way – turn on the water, get three pumps of liquid soap. You lather for 45 seconds, lathering everything from your elbows down. You pay attention to your nails and cuticles. You scrub front and back. You do it all three times... and then... only then... do you rinse, letting the water flow from your elbows down to the tips of your fingers. You check to make sure you rinsed all the suds off before turning the water off with a silent spell, and then you used a drying charm.
I'll admit, I've snuck in behind you in the loo plenty of times to watch that. It's the only time you seem to pay attention to your hands and the intense looks you give them make me weak in the knees, for some inexplicable reason.
I watch you in potions. The way you hold your knife or the ingredients. The way you hold the spoon as you stir. The way you flick your wrist just so. How your fingers curve lovingly to embrace each tool. The way you sometimes stroke the ingredients when you think no one is watching. You seem to have a kinship with it all; with your cauldron and spoon and athame. It's as if you're having a spiritual love affair and all of it speaks to you in a way only you can understand.
I'm barely passing potions now. I tend to stop listening to Slughorn to watch you and your hands. I imagine what might happen if I were brave enough to ask you to partner me when Slughorn tells us to break into pairs. I'd get it, if I worked with you. You'd take the time to explain how everything talked to you and what it said. You'd share with me, though you wouldn't want to, because at that point it was our grade – not mine or yours, but ours.
I'd surprise you when I actually got it; when the secret language you thought only your potions materials would understood was understood by Potter and Black's quiet, unassuming friend. You might even smile. And then... then you'd tell me meet you after dinner... to work on our project.
I'd meet you and we'd work. You'd wrap your hand around my wrist to help me with my technique. You'd stroke my arm. We'd get hot and take off our clothes. You'd touch me with your hands.... strong, confident, tender hands. You'd run your fingers over my scars. You'd tweak my nipples and dip a finger into my belly button.
And then your fingers would wrap around my cock and stroke me, working up the shaft and swirling around the head. You'd push a finger into the piss slit. You'd grip it tight and stroke it so hard it hurt. Then I'd come – in white, hot, sticky ropes. I'd cover your gorgeous hands and arms. You'd enjoy it.
When I was done, I'd like you clean and suck your fingers. It'd treat each and every one like a miniature cock. You'd thrust against my leg, my tongue doing things to you you'd never imagined. Then you'd come all over my thighs and cock. You'd wrap those fingers tight into my hair and pull me close for our first kiss.
We'd probably fail our potions experiment, but it'd be worth it.