Originally posted at DD-LJ, 4 July 2007

Title: Terms of Service
Author: snegurochka_lee
Characters: Remus/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dom/sub, (consensual) humiliation
Theme chosen: D/s contract
Word Count: ~6,500
Summary: On a mission in Romania for the Order, Remus discovers something about Charlie he did not expect. And takes full advantage of it, of course.
Author's notes: Thanks to lysa1 and misfit_ragdoll for the D/s advice, even though they (and I) thought at the time that it would be for a different pairing than this. ;)



Terms of Service

by Snegurochka

*

"You find it yet?"

"Bloody mess in here. How do you find anything?"

"Come on, it's got to be there somewhere!"

"I'm looking, Charlie. Any luck in the attic?"

Charlie's head popped in the doorway of the study, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. The bits of wood littering his arms and the dirt on his elbows under his rolled-up sleeves made him look like he'd just emerged from the world's rattiest crawl space – which, Remus reasoned, he pretty much had. "Nothing up there but a pile of old parchment in fucking Romanian. Look so old they must be Dracula's fucking bridal contracts."

Remus snorted back a laugh and rolled his eyes. "So what do we do? Dumbledore needs that report."

"And he's positive it's here?"

Remus sighed. "All he said was that Caleb interviewed all the werewolves in the eastern Balkans in a past life, and one of them knew something about Greyback that we need to find out."

Charlie shook his head. "That fucking spy," he said slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Mild-mannered dragon-keeper by day, out running with the werewolves at night! He was so fucking boring, too. Never would have thought he had some secret brilliant life." He paused, leaning against the doorframe and gazing off into space for a moment. "I miss that bastard."

Remus dropped into the desk chair and swivelled around. "Keep looking out in the living room. Maybe it's in the flower pots or something."

Charlie pushed off from the doorframe and sauntered away, waving his hand in a slightly bored, slightly irritated gesture on his way out, and Remus sighed again, glancing around Caleb's old office. It was hot and airless in there, and the new administrators at Charlie's dragon compound seemed to have been content to simply let the paper work pile up since Caleb had left for greener pastures and more money in France six months before. The place was covered in dust, and teetering stacks of parchment seemed to mock him from every shelf and peek out of every drawer.

He resumed his search, digging through each drawer and trying to make some sense of the piles, all the while not quite knowing what a werewolf census even looked like. Crouched on the floor with his hand stuck way back in the bottom drawer, he grasped a piece of parchment and tugged. It was stuck somehow, probably in between the rails of this drawer and the one above it, and Remus swore under his breath as he freed it. He shook it out, intending to toss it aside as soon as he confirmed it was useless, when a few key words caught his eye.

Slowly rising from his position, he stood behind the desk and stared at the parchment, the dark ink not yet old enough to have faded. His mouth fell open a little bit as he read.

I, Charlie Weasley, with a free mind and an open heart, do request of Caleb Booth that He accept the submission of my will unto His and to take me into His care and guidance, that W/we may grow together in love, trust and mutual respect. The satisfaction of His wants, desires, and whims are consistent with my desire as a submissive to be found pleasing to Him. To that end, I offer Him use of my time, talents, and abilities. Further, I ask, in sincere humility, that, as my Master, He accept the keeping of my body for the fulfillment and enhancement of O/our sexual, spiritual, emotional, and intellectual needs. To achieve this, He may have unfettered use of my body any time, any place, in front of anyone, to keep or to give away, as He will determine.

"Hey, I'm going out to the stables," Charlie hollered from the next room at that moment, and Remus's eyes flew to the door of the study.

"What?" he called back, shoving the parchment under a stack on the desk, but Charlie didn't look in.

"Office out back for ordering supplies. Maybe it was a secret store room for this stupid werewolf data." The voice trailed off as it left the building, and Remus let out a breath.

"Yeah," he called back. "Okay."

When he heard the door slam shut, he lifted the parchment out of its hiding place and kept reading, his fingers clutching at the page a little bit harder with each passing word.

I ask that He guide me in any sexual, sensual, or scene-related behavior, both together with, and separate from Him, in such a way as to further my growth as a person.

In return, I agree:

To obey His commands to the best of my ability.

To strive to overcome feelings of guilt or shame, and all inhibitions that interfere with my capability to serve Him and limit my growth as His submissive.

To maintain honest and open communication.

To reveal my thoughts, feelings, and desires without hesitation or embarrassment.

To inform Him of wants and perceived needs, recognising that He is the sole judge of whether or how these shall be satisfied.

My surrender as a submissive is done with the knowledge that nothing asked of me will demean me as a person.

Remus paused, lifting his eyes from the page with great difficulty and sucking in a long, slow breath. This was too much. It was bad enough that he had been forced to come here at all, that Albus had decided that Caleb's work with werewolves was something Remus needed to be familiar with before he could hope to infiltrate Greyback's pack. It was bad enough that looking for Caleb's abandoned work had meant sharing close quarters with Charlie and his compound of fit young men who regularly walked around with towels slung low on their hips and water droplets dripping down their backs. It was bad enough watching Charlie roll up his sleeves and climb into attics, emerging with dirt on his forearms and sweat in the hollow of his throat, to slap Remus on the back in manly fashion or turn to saunter away, broad shoulders and tight arse and thick, muscular thighs heading out the door.

But this, this was really too much.

Charlie had been with Caleb. Charlie and Caleb had had a contract.

Remus glanced back down at the page, heat coursing through his body and sending prickles to his fingertips where they touched the parchment.

Charlie was a submissive. A serious, trained, sign-a-contract, real submissive, and he had entered into this agreement with Caleb in order to... oh, God. Remus's prick began to ache.

Should either of U/us find that our aspirations are not being well served by this agreement, find this commitment too burdensome, or for any other reason wish to cancel, E/either may do so by verbal notification to the O/other, in keeping with the consensual nature of this agreement. W/we both understand that cancellation means a cessation of the control stated and implied within this agreement, not a termination of O/our relationship as friends and lovers.

Remus brought the parchment closer to his eyes, examining a smeared, handwritten note in the margins that had been crossed out. Beside it was a small, emphatic word written in black ink: NO. He dropped the page down again, crunching it in a fist at his side, and stared at the door. He'd been rifling through papers in this office for two days now; he knew Caleb's handwriting. Suddenly Caleb's unannounced departure to France and the resting place of this contract in the bowels of an old desk made a lot more sense.

He sat down slowly in the chair, smoothed the paper out over the desk, and then leaned back, folding his hands over his lap and waiting for Charlie to return. He didn't have to wait long.

"Okay, there is no fucking werewolf report anywhere on this compound," an exasperated voice hollered after a door banged open out front. Remus waited in the study, not moving even when Charlie appeared in the doorway again. "Are you sure Dumbledore knows what he's on about? Maybe Caleb took it with him, or shredded it, or sold it to fucking Greyback or something." He slumped back against the wall beside the door and rested his hands on his hips as he appraised Remus. The hands sat low, more where his hips met his upper thighs, and Remus let his eyes slide down to take it all in. Charlie watched him for a moment before beginning to smirk. "What?" he drawled.

Remus raised his eyes to Charlie's face again, slowly and deliberately, keeping his own impassive.

Charlie straightened up a bit, his expression shifting. "See something you like?" he asked softly, and Remus finally rose from the chair. He paused for a moment before slowly walking forward, around the side of the desk and across the room to where Charlie was standing. He approached with predatory steps, his shoes echoing against the rough wood of the floor. When he reached Charlie he paused again, appraising him like a piece of meat. He stepped to one side, eyes roving over every inch of his body before moving away and doing the same on the other side. Charlie stood stock still, his face uncertain but his body apparently unwilling to move, or push Remus away.

Finally, Remus turned his back on Charlie and crossed the room again. The air was suddenly too hot and too thick as he stopped before the window and clasped his hands behind his back, looking out. "Come here," he said quietly, his voice even and firm.

Charlie gave a surprised sort of laugh. "What?"

Remus waited three more seconds before he turned around, hands still clasped behind his back. He regarded Charlie with cool eyes. "I said, come here," he repeated.

After another second's silence, Charlie pushed himself off from the wall and raised his hands in the air. "Okay, look, you want some lunch or something? We've been in here way too long, and it's hot and dusty and you're being weird, so–" He moved forward as he talked, but when he reached the edge of the desk and glanced down as he gestured his hands, he stopped dead. He stared at the parchment on the desk and blinked a few times, and Remus could almost see the wheels turning in his head. When he finally looked up at Remus again, his face was flushed and his eyes angry. "You look at this?" he asked, his voice ringing with accusation.

Remus nodded once.

"Oh, fuck you," spat Charlie, slowly shaking his head back and forth and crossing his arms over his chest. "Fuck you. You found this in here? That's fucking private; that is none of your fucking business, and so what, now you think you can order me around, is that it? Is that what you think this is? You fucking piece of–"

"I didn't know you'd lived in Paris," Remus interrupted in a calm voice, and Charlie paused in mid-word. He stared at Remus.

"I– what?"

Remus nodded towards the parchment. "Paris. Were you trained at Fontaine's or the Mirabel?"

Charlie's mouth opened slowly, lips sticking together as though they weren't sure they should open at all. "Nobody knows about Paris," he whispered. A heartbeat passed, then another, before he swallowed and added, "Fontaine's. But how did you–"

"That's a classic French agreement," said Remus, gesturing at the parchment. "Written from the point of view of the sub; obvious pronoun modifications for same-sex partners; emphasis on equality rather than obligation. The British are much more passive, the Germans are much more authoritarian, and the rest of Europe – well. Actually, that's as far as my knowledge extends. Perhaps there's another difference for Romania that you could teach me." He let the words hang in the air between them, watching as Charlie grasped them, simultaneously trying to make sense of them while deciding how much to admit to.

"I–" Charlie stopped, exhaling low through pursed lips. "Don't need to teach you anything, do I?" he asked quietly.

Remus smiled. "No," he said. "Not really." He moved towards the desk, stopping only when his body was flush against Charlie's, hip to hip, and they were both leaning over the parchment. "If the agreement has been terminated, though," he added, "this should have been destroyed." His fingers crept up the page until they met the smeared black ink in the margins, and Remus turned to look at Charlie. "Unless it's only been postponed, not terminated, until this particular sticking point could be resolved." He watched with fascination and arousal as Charlie tried to keep his face impassive, but his heaving chest and flushed cheeks betrayed him.

"He wouldn't do that," said Charlie at last, glancing sideways at Remus and then forcing a laugh. "He'd do nearly everything else you can think of, but that… it seems so harmless, doesn't it?"

"You've no right to judge his wishes," said Remus, his voice firm, and Charlie's eyebrows shot up. "You had no right to end it because of this. The Master's verdict is final."

"I had every right to end it because of this," snapped Charlie, backing away from Remus and pointing a finger. "If that's what happened, but it's not. He walked away, he went to France, and – fuck. There shouldn't be copies of this just fucking lying around." His eyes darted around the room.

Remus watched him for a moment before coming to a decision. He grabbed a nearby quill and inkpot and bent over the parchment, ensuring Charlie could see what he was doing. With a firm stroke, he crossed out the name Caleb Booth and above it wrote Remus Lupin. He could hear Charlie's breathing accelerate, but Charlie didn't speak. Next, he let his hand skim down the page until it reached the marginal note again. He placed a solid X through the word NO, circled Charlie's scribbled addition to the contract, and wrote his own initials above the circle. When he looked up again, Charlie's hair had fallen into his eyes and the arms crossed over his chest didn't look as defensive anymore. His expression remained hard but not angry, and his eyes were roving over Remus's body.

Remus turned to face him full-on, lifting his arms out to the side to put himself on display. "Agreed?" he asked softly.

Charlie paused, lips parted, before nodding.

"Good." Remus took a few steps backward. "Now. Come here."

Charlie glanced around the room. "Now?" he asked in wonder. "What about the–"

"Now," snapped Remus. "And if you question me again, you will be punished."

Charlie stared at him for three more seconds, and Remus watched in fascination as his demeanour changed before Remus's very eyes. With a slow lick of his lips, Charlie dropped his arms to his sides, and then moved them behind his back and curled them into the waist of his jeans. His spine stiffened and his eyes fell to the floor, although his chin remained raised as a sign of dignity and control. He had indeed been trained well, it seemed.

With careful but determined steps, Charlie crossed the room to Remus and, not raising his eyes, dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, sitting back on his heels and staring forward.

"Very good," said Remus, reaching out to run a hand through Charlie's hair. His thumb continued down his cheek until he cupped Charlie's chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced his gaze. "Fontaine's doesn't accept those who aren't serious," he said. "You must be very well trained."

Charlie remained silent.

"You may answer."

"I am, sir," he said. "Very well trained."

"We'll see about that." Remus pulled his hand away. "Remove your shirt."

Charlie obeyed without hesitation, unbuttoning his work shirt methodically and pushing it off his shoulders. He reached behind his back to grab one sleeve and then the other, sliding them over his wrists. He balled it in one hand and waited.

"You may leave it on the floor."

He tossed the shirt aside and sat perfectly still, as Remus took in the sight of his body. He'd seen it before, at least this much of it, as none of the men at the compound were shy about wandering around half-clothed, but this was different. This time it was here, on display, for him. There were tattoos, of course: a Horntail over his right shoulder and upper arm and a Snitch just above his left nipple. Remus moved to circle him, walking around the kneeling figure to see that tanned, muscled back. Another hint of ink rose from the waistband of his jeans at his left hip, and Remus's mouth went a bit dry at the thought of where the rest of it was hidden. He'd find out soon enough.

He let his fingertips slide over Charlie's shoulder blades, sweeping across in a slow glide. The skin heated and prickled under his touch, and he wondered if Charlie was already as hard as he was. It had been much too long since Remus had indulged this behaviour, and God, how he'd missed it. He unfastened his trousers as he moved back to stand in front of Charlie. It wasn't the most innovative way to begin, but there would be time enough for other experiments and activities later. For now, he wanted to test Charlie's training.

Pulling his prick from his trousers, he curled one hand around the back of Charlie's neck. Charlie leaned forward immediately, parting his lips and letting the thick, smooth length of Remus's cock slide into his mouth without a sound. The pleasure was instantaneous. Remus watched as Charlie's lips stretched around him, the shape of his cock nearly visible from the lines of Charlie's cheek. He groaned at the wet pressure of a tongue on the underside of his cock and the ridged roof of Charlie's mouth against the tip. He curled his fingers even deeper into the back of Charlie's neck and pulled him forward.

It would be blissful to come like this, only the harsh sounds of breathing and Remus's low moans filling the room, Charlie's hands still anchored behind his back and Remus's prick shoved so far down his throat he'd surely have to cough or sputter before he could swallow. Remus suddenly wanted to see him try it, see how far Charlie's training really went, and if he actually could take a mouthful of come that way without faltering or breaking his concentration.

Another time, perhaps.

Remus bit down on his lip and slid his cock out, watching the way it glistened with saliva as Charlie let it go, his lips pressing together and his throat swallowing noiselessly as it left his mouth. "Not bad," he murmured, "but that's not really what you want, is it? You may answer."

"I want to please you, sir," said Charlie, eyes still downcast and his voice steady, never betraying the fact that he'd just had a cock down his throat.

"Do you, now…" said Remus, unbuttoning his own shirt. "It would please me to bend you over that desk and fuck you until you came all over that contract," he murmured, his voice low. "It would please me to leave you there with my come dripping down your thighs and the door open. It would please me to put a collar and leash on you and chain you to that desk until dinner, for anyone to find as they walked by."

A tiny ripple passed through Charlie's otherwise still body; had he not been watching for it, Remus would have missed it. He smiled, leaving his unbuttoned shirt hanging open and again forcing Charlie's gaze with a hand at his chin.

"It would please me," he whispered when he had Charlie's eyes on him, "to write on you, all over you, all the words you deserve to be called." He paused. "Slut," he pronounced slowly, twisting Charlie's chin in his hand. "Worthless. Sissy. Whore." He released his hand with a little shove, forcing Charlie's eyes down again. "Is that what you deserve? Answer."

"Yes, sir," said Charlie, his face still impassive and his body rigidly controlled.

"Tell me."

"I am a slut," said Charlie, and Remus had to close his eyes against the pulsing threat in his prick. "I am worthless. I deserve to be fucked and left here for others to find."

"If they found you, what would they do to you? Answer."

"Whatever you wished, sir."

"And if I wished to watch from the door as they took their turns with you? Answer."

"Yes, sir."

Remus smiled, his eyes hooded and his cock aching. "Well, then," he murmured. "You are a slut, aren't you? You'd let your friends and colleagues line up at this door, using my come as lubricant and sliding inside you, fucking you till you couldn't see straight?"

Charlie was silent, and Remus let the question hang in the air an extra moment.

"You may answer," he said at last, his voice soft.

"I would, sir. If you wished it."

Oh, he had been trained well, that much was certain. Remus had not visited Fontaine's or Paris in years, but it was heartening to know that they were still doing good work among the younger generation. "Stand," he ordered, taking a step backwards. "Remove your clothes. Then…" He paused, lowering his voice. "Bend over the desk."

Charlie let out only the tiniest gasp of air, an almost inaudible whimper before he swallowed soundlessly and rose in one smooth motion. He wet his lips as he pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them. Boots, socks, and pants were tossed aside at a nod of Remus's head, and Remus had to swallow his own groan at the sight of Charlie walking, naked, stiff-backed and proud, across the room to the desk. His prick was thick and hard, jutting out from his body and nearly dripping as he walked, and Remus hated to hide it under that desk. Next time, he promised himself, they would do this in a bedroom, somewhere he could lay Charlie out on his back with his wrists bound over his head and that gorgeous prick on display.

But not today.

Without glancing back for confirmation, Charlie obeyed the instructions perfectly, moving up to the desk and planting his feet a bit more than shoulder-width apart. He spread his arms wide, grasped the far edge of the desk and bent over, settling his hips against the near edge and his cheek against the smooth wood surface. Remus had to bite back a groan as he watched, that perfect body spread out for him, legs anchored solidly with tensed muscles, back smooth and tanned, and a beautiful arse just waiting for him.

He'd been right about the tattoo he'd glimpsed earlier. It snaked down from his lower back to mid-thigh, the long, curving ridges of a single dragon tail done in blue, green and black. Charlie didn't move as Remus gazed at him.

Finally, with his own shirt still unbuttoned, trousers unfastened, and his cock hard and aching where it sat between his pants and his open zip, Remus moved towards the desk. He made sure his footsteps echoed loudly, made sure Charlie knew he was approaching. He stood directly behind Charlie, letting the front of his trousers brush the back of Charlie's bare thighs, and grasped his prick, slowly ghosting it over the skin of Charlie's arse. It was a light touch, just a brief, sliding whisper of a touch, but he felt Charlie struggle not to shudder or push back against him. He moved slowly, the head of his prick just barely nudging into Charlie's cleft and then down, ever slowly, to press against his balls and between his thighs.

"If I were to try to Summon a bit of lube right now," he said, "where would it come from? You may answer."

"Back cabinet, sir," breathed Charlie, his voice only slightly less steady than it had been before.

Remus smiled. Just as he'd suspected. Caleb would have been no more able to resist engaging Charlie's many attributes in this very office than Remus was. "Accio lubricant," he murmured, moving his hand away from Charlie's hip for a moment to wave it at the cabinet. He caught the small jar that sailed out, twisted the cap off and dipped his fingers in. Running one hand down Charlie's back, his flat palm absorbing the heat radiating off the skin, Remus moved the other between Charlie's legs and began to open him, twisting and pressing with insistent fingers. "Your silence has been very controlled," he told Charlie as two fingers pushed inside him. "Very impressive. Is it a hardship for you? You may answer."

"No more than I can manage, sir," said Charlie, but his breathing had sharpened and his voice was rough.

Remus leaned over his back. "I would like you to enjoy this," he murmured. "Would you like to moan when I do this?" He twisted his fingers, watching as Charlie drew in a deep, silent breath and closed his eyes. "You may answer," he added quietly.

"I would, sir," said Charlie, his back rising and falling from the desk as his breath quickened.

Remus let his other hand trail down to Charlie's balls, pressing gently on them as his other fingers continued to move inside him. "Then you may do so," he allowed, and almost before the words had left his mouth, Charlie let out a low, slow groan.

"Oh, oh God…"

"More," commanded Remus.

A deep, rumbling groan rose from Charlie's chest and he pressed back against Remus's hands. "Fuck," he breathed. "Oh my fucking God…"

"That's better." Remus moved his hand away from Charlie's sac and grabbed his own prick, unable to wait anymore. He spread the lube over himself, gasping at the cool slide of it, and nudged it forward before removing the fingers of his other hand from Charlie's arse. With a quick, practiced switch, he positioned his prick, slid his fingers out, and pressed forward nearly simultaneously, watching Charlie's body open for him and suck him in. The edges of his open shirt fell on either side of Charlie's hips as he pushed in, heat flooding his body at the tight squeeze around his cock and the sight of Charlie's knuckles paling where he clutched the desk.

He reached up and curled his hands around Charlie's shoulders, leaning forward as he thrust. "Moan for me," he whispered into the back of Charlie's neck, watching the cords tense and Charlie's lips redden and part.

Charlie obeyed, thick, throaty moans falling from his lips as Remus fucked him. He thought of Charlie's beautiful prick bobbing under the desk but ignored it for now, concentrating only on the intense pleasure of burying himself in this tight, young body that he never would have thought could belong to him. His eyes drifted to the crumpled contract, just visible from under Charlie's right arm, and he felt a new heat course through him from simultaneously reading the words and having physical evidence of Charlie's submission right here before him, bent over the desk and taking Remus's cock just as he'd been ordered.

He may have unfettered use of my body any time, any place, in front of anyone, to keep or to give away, as He will determine.

The words swam in front of Remus's eyes and he thrust in deep, feeling Charlie clench around him and pull him forward, inviting him in with every subtle movement of his body.

I agree to obey His commands to the best of my ability.

It had been years since Remus had had a contracted submissive of his own, making do in the meantime with visits to trusted clubs for single-night encounters. But it wasn't the same. There was nothing like the trust and love at work in a contract like that, no pleasure like engaging in D/s play with someone who would still be there in the morning, who knew him and wanted to be with him, who honoured his wishes and felt sure enough about him to offer his own in return.

This agreement shall serve as the basis for an extension of O/our relationship, committed to in the spirit of loving and consensual dominance and submission with the intention of furthering self-awareness and exploration, promoting health and happiness, and improving both O/our lives.

His fingers dug into Charlie's shoulders as he hauled himself forward one last time, crushing Charlie against the desk with a ferocious thrust and emptying his pulsing cock deep inside him. He shuddered with the intense pleasure of it, his spine curving and his legs shaking. He felt hot liquid pooling over his cock inside Charlie's body and withdrew slowly, a trail of come sliding out after him and dripping down Charlie's thighs.

After his encouraging moan as Remus came, Charlie had fallen silent again, his body still stretched over the desk in perfect formation. Remus eyed the contract again, the circled instruction in the margins still not quite fulfilled. He backed away, muttering a cleaning charm on himself and tucking his prick back in his trousers. He left his shirt unbuttoned, though, as he leaned over Charlie's body to grab the quill and inkpot.

"Can you feel that," he asked softly, "my come dripping out of you? I do keep my promises, Charlie. You'll want to remember that." He dipped the quill in the ink and paused over Charlie's back. "Now, what else was it I said I'd do? Ah, of course." He began to write, harsh black letters forming over Charlie's skin. "You're a filthy slut, aren't you? Spread out like this, fucked senseless and still wanting more." The word SLUT bled into Charlie's skin as the ink dried, and Remus moved up to the shoulder not covered by the tattoo. "Worthless, whoring little tramp. Did you plan this, then, getting me out here and trapping me into fucking you? Is that what you do with men who visit this compound?"

He wrote WORTHLESS over Charlie's shoulder and WHORE down his bicep.

"Stand up," he ordered, and Charlie obeyed immediately, betraying no sign of cramping or discomfort as he straightened. "Turn around." He did so, eyes still lowered, and Remus took up the quill again. "You do suck cock beautifully though," he murmured. He planted one hand on Charlie's chest to steady himself against its breathless rise and fall, and wrote COCKSUCKER in large letters across his chest. After a few more words both written and muttered in Charlie's ear, Remus stepped back to examine his work. "Arms out," he ordered, and Charlie stood tall, planting his feet firmly on the floor and raising his arms to his sides, his body on full display. "Are you ashamed of yourself?" he asked softly. "You may answer."

"Yes, sir," murmured Charlie, his face flushed.

"Are you embarrassed at how quickly and easily you spread your legs for me? You are young and gorgeous; you could have anyone you wanted, and you let a filthy old man like me fuck you blind. I'll tell everyone out there, too," he added, nodding at the door. "How you begged me for it, moaning like a whore."

Charlie swallowed, murmuring something under his breath, and Remus stared.

"What did you say?" he snapped. "Did I say you could speak?"

Charlie pressed his lips together and raised his chin, the muscles of his upper body tense as he continued to hold his arms up.

"What did you say?" repeated Remus, stepping forward. "You may answer."

"I said…" Charlie paused, clenching his jaw, and Remus almost smiled at the discipline, the way Charlie was obviously so angry with himself for his error. "… that you're not old."

Remus paused, stepping forward again and circling Charlie slowly. He stopped beside him and leaned in close to his ear, grinning. "But I am filthy," he whispered, "just like you." He glanced down at Charlie's red prick. "Bring yourself off, slut," he murmured, his breath hot over the side of Charlie's face. "Loudly. However you like. There's still come inside you," he added, his voice rough. "Use it."

With a whimper, Charlie dropped his arms and turned back towards the desk, leaning forward on one arm and reaching back between his legs with the other. His fingers came back covered in come and he smeared it down his cock, groaning at the touch after going so long without it. Remus stood back to watch, taking in the sight of that beautiful, naked body, covered in black-inked insults and green-inked dragons, leaning over the desk and pumping furiously at his sticky cock. It was over in seconds; the poor kid must have been overstimulated nearly beyond his limits, and he squeezed his eyes shut and came in thick strands over the desk – and, as Remus had ordered earlier, over the contract.

They were both silent for a long minute afterwards, Charlie's chest heaving and his head dropping between his shoulders, one hand still flat against the desk and the other hanging at his side, covered in come. Remus moved behind him and trailed a hand up his back, a gentle, reassuring gesture that made Charlie turn his head to the side.

"Molly," murmured Remus, and Charlie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back and tossing his submission aside at the same time.

"I have got to change that fucking word," he groaned. "God, I'll never get hard again if I keep associating this with her." He gave Remus a pointed look, still smiling.

"That's why it's the perfect word," said Remus. "Impossible to continue once someone says it. You were smart to put it in the contract," he added. A silence fell between them, and Remus felt a stab of regret and more than a little embarrassment. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. He was a friend of Charlie's parents, for God's sake; he and Charlie didn't even live in the same country; he was about to embark on a fairly dangerous mission to a pack a werewolves; and he'd just revealed a very intimate part of his life to someone he barely knew.

"Hey," said Charlie softly, turning to face him. "If you're feeling a bit weird about this… you might remember that I'm the naked one with COCKSUCKER written across my chest and come all over me right now." He raised his eyebrows, and Remus couldn't help but smile shyly. He nodded.

"Yeah. That's… a good point. Erm– sorry about that." He gestured at Charlie's chest, but Charlie shook his head.

"No, don't be." He threw a glance at the contract. "You agreed." When he turned to face Remus again, he bit at his lower lip and smiled, then leaned in to kiss him. Remus closed his eyes and felt relief flood him along with a quick throb of renewed arousal as he parted his lips and tasted Charlie for the first time, slow and deep. He brought a hand up to curl around the back of Charlie's neck and draw him closer, moaning softly into his mouth and pushing their tongues together.

"Mm, God," breathed Charlie when they parted, his cheeks flushed and his eyes hooded, and he gave Remus a lazy smile that Remus felt down to his toes. "Where've you been all my life?" he asked with a grin, and Remus laughed. He murmured a few charms to erase the incriminating words from Charlie's body and clean him up, then bent to retrieve his jeans from the floor. "Thanks," said Charlie when he handed them over, pulling them on and zipping up without bothering with his pants.

They both glanced at the stained contract for a moment before Remus picked up the quill once more. He scanned it again, running his finger down the middle and nodding. When he reached the bottom, he crossed out Caleb's name again and the date.

I offer my consent to submission to Caleb Booth Remus Lupin under the terms stated above on this the
16th 4th day of October July in the year 1994 1995.


____________________________
Signature of submissive

I offer my acceptance of submission by Charlie Weasley under the terms stated above on this the
4th day of July in the year 1995.


____________________________
Signature of Dominant

He signed the form, placed the quill back on the desk, and backed away. It was up to Charlie now. He'd made his desires plain, but if Charlie didn't want to do this again, then Remus would walk out the door, go back to England and never speak of it. He began refastening the buttons of his shirt, trying not to glance up at Charlie, but of course Charlie wouldn't have it.

"Hey," he called softly, and when he had Remus's eyes on him, he held the quill up and gave it a little shake. "In case you didn't get the message from all the obeying and moaning and coming my fucking brains out?" He dipped the quill in the inkpot and bent over the desk, scratching out his old signature and penning a new one with a flourish. "I think we did this a bit backwards, though," he added with a smirk when he straightened, and Remus winced.

"Sign first, then fuck," he agreed. "Right."

"So," began Charlie, glancing around the room. "Can you… stay a few days?" His eyes twinkled, and he gave Remus a sly grin.

"Oh, yeah," said Remus, moving forward again and hooking a finger into Charlie's waistband. "I think I'd better."



-fin-


Notes:
The D/s contract used here is a modified version of one found at this site. Play safe, kids! Sign first, then fuck. ;)




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