hpsauce (hpsauce) wrote in pervy_werewolf, @ 2009-05-11 21:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | #lmom 2009, author: hpsauce, remus/sirius |
LMOM#11 - Understanding
Title: Understanding
Author: hpsauce
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Kink(s): Whipping
Challenge: Lusty Month of May 2009
Word count: 1102
Notes: gala_apples...sorry i didn't write the other fic...erm, hope this is an adequate replacement. i've never written whipping before, so it's another first time. that should appease the slash-gods, right? erm, sorry about the angstiness. can't help myself sometimes...
It's a ridiculous fight. Remus cannot even remember what it started over. Probably something trivial like leaving cups in the sink or getting marmite in the butter. Nonetheless, all fights, regardless of how they start, end the same way.
"You can't understand-," Remus croaks because he is angry and sore from the full moon two nights before and because he can't hit Sirius. He doesn't really want to hurt him.
"I want to," Sirius says and he sounds lost. Remus turns away and stared out of the tiny, dusty window at the Downs beyond. His fight is lost.
He may always have the trump card of being a werewolf, but Sirius can beat it with nothing more than a pair of puppy-dog eyes and a lowering of his voice. His shoulders slump and Remus sighs and reaches forward, pulling him close.
"I wouldn't want that," Remus says against his dark hair, "I would want that."
"But I want to know!" Sirius pouts, childlike despite his twenty years. He pulls away, his eyes alight with a plan.
Remus steps back and folds his arms. This pose is what Sirius terms his 'Professor Lupin' look. Remus glares at him through his half-moon spectacles. Professor Lupin, he hopes, is a lot scarier than McGonagall.
"Moony," Sirius begins.
"Nope," Remus says, shaking his head before he's heard a single word of the plan. If he humours Sirius by hearing him out then Sirius will take it as consent. It was the same way with buying a television and 'Bondage Wednesday' and the purchasing of scatter cushions for the living room when Remus was sure that all three served no purpose at all.
"Mooooony," Sirius pleads.
"Padfoot," Remus says, reaching out and taking one of Sirius' hands (clasped as if to pray) between both of his. "I don't want to know if it will-. Please don't-."
"You'll like it," Sirius says, wiggling his eyebrows. This is how Bondage Wednesday started. Remus will not give in this time.
"No, I won't," he said. He pushed his glasses up his nose, drops Sirius' hand and walks across to the kettle to start making a fresh cup of tea. 'This is the end of the discussion,' his movements say 'please get two cups down and try not to break the good china this time.'
Sirius should be practiced at reading Remus' body language by now. Sometimes he still makes mistakes. Remus hopes that getting out the good china cups and promptly dropping one is the worst it will be.
He is sadly mistaken.
Three days later he opens to door to the bedroom at stops short. Sirius is leaning against the bedpost, his hands braced against it, his bare back to Remus. Something leather is draped over his shoulder.
"It's not Wednesday," Remus says, putting his coat on the ottoman and trying is best to not be distracted by Sirius' skin.
"I know," Sirius replied. He turns around and holds the item in his hand towards Remus.
"No," Remus says.
"Moony," Sirius says and Remus lets him speak if only because his own horror keeps him silent, "Remus. I want you to. I'm asking you to."
"Sirius," Remus muttered. He holds onto the handle of the whip, watching as the thong falls to the ground. He swallows.
"I want to understand. Will you do it?" Sirius says softly and his eyes are unbearably wide and caring and beautiful and his brows are drawn together in a frown and Remus tightens his grip on the handle.
"Okay."
Sirius repositions himself by the bed. His legs apart, his head resting against his arms, his hands bracing himself against the bedpost. He closes his eyes as Remus stands there, the whip heavy in his hand.
He is going to do this properly. He stands back and looks over Sirius' body, breathing deeply and imagining that the curtains are open, that moonlight floods through the window and bathes Sirius in it.
The pain always starts deep inside and Remus knows he can't hit there. He steps forward and looks at Sirius' tense body. Isn't this how it feels, always waiting, always on edge until the transformation begins.
He raises the whip and sweeps it down. It leaves a red line down Sirius' pale back. Sirius hisses, pressing his head into his arms. Remus sweeps the whip down again and another line appears next to it. Sirius' skin is beginning to blush around the lines. Remus brings the whip down a third time and Sirius cries out.
Remus wants to stop. He can see a glimmer on Sirius' downturned face but he knows Sirius will not forgive him if he stops now. He raises the whip and imagines the moon upon. It wraps around Sirius thigh and Sirius' leg shakes. Remus sighs and repeats it on the other leg. He whips until the shaking becomes worse and he has drawn blood and Sirius has leant all his weight on the bedpost.
Then he returns to the back, painting lines across the ones he laid earlier. He remembers the cracking of his spine as he lays straight lines across the bones of Sirius' back. Sirius sobs, hitched breaths and moans. It's when he shifts his weight, trying to relieve the pain of his reddened left thigh that Remus sees his red cock, hard and weeping.
Remus grits his teeth and the next crack of the whip is loud and it makes Sirius cry out loudly, rocking against the bedpost. Remus closes his eyes and he whips again. The blows land of Sirius' shoulders and Remus remembers the feel of his arms wrenching out. The thong wraps around Sirius' bony elbows and Remus remembers the bones shifting.
The whip moves down. Remus no longer has to strain to remember where the moon hurts him. The whip wraps around Sirius' hip and Sirius rocks forward, sobbing loudly and moaning and his cock brushes against the bedpost. As Remus brings the whip down across his buttocks Sirius comes with a loud groan.
Remus looks at his handiwork. The crosshatch of red against pale flesh. He is unaware of dropping the whip or his knees buckling. He is only aware of Sirius' arms around him and the terrible unfairness of the world. It should be him comforting Sirius, making all his hurts go away.
Later he kisses each of the lines made upon Sirius' flesh, traces the trails of the thong around Sirius' thighs and arms and hips with his fingers and tongue. When Sirius returns the favour, touching each of his scars, it's Remus who thinks he finally understands.