Can’t Hide It, Can’t Fight ItAuthor: llaeyroCharacters/Pairings:
Everything Old Is New: November’s prompts of corsets and a little bit of endytophilia: preference for dressed partnersOther Warnings/Content:
Breathplay, reference to auto-erotic asphyxiation-related near-death experience, D/s dynamic, RACK, casual use of a collar, rough sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, sex in front of a mirror, sex over the back of an armchair, angst and feelingsWord Count:
Harry wants, and Remus's resolve is threadbare.Author's Notes:
Title from Breathless by The Corrs. The pairing is all shiftylinguini
’s glorious fault ♥ Thanks to B for looking this over, and love to the R/S Discord for answering random-ass questions like 'what's a synonym for oomph' xD Sorry I couldn't get this finished for my posting date, Christmas is crazy!
It was complicated.
That was the only way Remus could describe the situation with Harry. He tended to avoid putting himself into positions where questions may be asked as to the exact nature of their relationship. He was fairly sure Harry had been doing the same of late, and it had led to them both becoming rather reclusive. Unsurprisingly, it was only causing more worry among their circle of friends and pseudo-family.
There were many reasons that Remus felt unable to label or otherwise explain their… liaison. First and foremost, there was the inescapable fact that neither of them seemed to know exactly what was going on. It was as if they had started playing a game having never read the rule book, or seen the game played out until the final whistle. Secondly, the whole thing came about entirely by accident, and developed despite Remus’s many heartfelt attempts to curb it. Then you had the age difference and the sizeable breach of trust not only in regards to Harry, as Remus’s ex-pupil, but to James and Lily. The whole situation was only complicated by the actuality that Remus’s involvement did
seem to be in Harry’s best interests. Prior to Remus discovering Harry’s secret, he had been on a dangerous path, bound to end in disaster. In fact, it very nearly had.
Remus had taken some time to respond to the alarm. He had sat for moments too long, puzzling what the sound could signify and waiting for whoever had set or triggered it to silence it. He knew it wasn’t the wards — despite his and Harry’s work to somewhat sanctify the old Black residence, the darker magic still lingered — they had a different feel to them. It wasn’t the house’s dusty, peppery magic, it was fresh and citrusy and urgent. In reality, it must have been less than thirty seconds before he made his way upstairs to seek out the cause. Looking back with the knowledge he now had, however, Remus still carried guilt over his slow reaction. As soon as he blasted his way into Harry’s bedroom, he understood what had happened and thanked Merlin that Harry had the sense to set that alarm.
The image of Harry in that state still haunted him. Remus imagined that most people would have been more bothered by his state of undress, or the blue tinge around his mouth, but not he. He had prior understanding, albeit second-hand, of the euphoric edge that Harry had been chasing that night. For Remus, the bothersome aspect of that memory was, rather, how peaceful Harry had appeared. His face had seemed free of worry, relaxed and blissful. It wasn’t a look he had seen on those features before, and had only glimpsed fleetingly since. It worried him, that memory, as it came with the implied suggestion that peace may not be attainable here for Harry. Not in this life.
Remus wasn’t sure when exactly Harry had begun to masturbate his anxiety, his depression, his grief away. He suspected that it began as soon as it could, as soon as Harry had been afforded the luxury of his own bed, in his own room, behind a charmed door. It had been obvious that the foray into breathplay was relatively new to him, given his naivety as Remus discussed the risks with him. Unfortunately, Harry took more from their discussion than Remus had hoped. He found in it a belief that Remus could provide him with what he needed, and safely. It had never been Remus’s intention to walk with Harry down this road, but there had seemed to be no other alternative. There still didn’t.
It had been a long journey for Remus, gradually giving in to Harry’s demands. He still felt as though he were taking advantage of the boy, despite the fact that it was Harry who had been rather manipulative at times. He had mostly grown tired of tormenting himself over the ethics of the situation, instead expending his energy on hiding his growing feelings for the young man. It was very clear to Remus that Harry only wanted him for his knowledge and experience, he doubted that there was any real attraction there on Harry’s part. Harry always made him keep his clothes on during sex and Remus couldn’t blame him. Many of Remus’s bedfellows over the years had claimed to find scars attractive, but none retained that belief after seeing the true state of him.
As much as Remus was convinced that the whole situation with Harry was destined to conclude in his own misery, he found that he had no desire to stop it. He could provide what Harry needed to heal and take some comfort for himself, while he was afforded the opportunity. He was done fighting. The time had come to give Harry what he truly wanted — what he had never ceased to beg so prettily for. He paid for his purchase, took the bag from the counter and raised his cloak collar as he left the shop, heading home.
Harry had decided that the time had come to make it clear to Remus what he really wanted. He had not expected to feel this way, back when they’d started this… whatever it was. He’d felt like an idiot as Remus had outlined how dangerous it was to do it alone, to put pressure on the windpipe. That there were other ways, safer ways. He’d wanted Remus’s knowledge, his understanding, and while Harry had managed to break Remus down into gradually giving him more and more, he was still holding back. He needed to know what Remus was willing to give him and he needed Remus to know just how much Harry wanted to give.
He waited, naked except for a leather collar with a single metal hoop on it, for Remus to come home. Usually, he preferred to keep at least some of his clothes on. It was so much more thrilling to have an unexpected brush of skin on skin when his top rode up of its own accord. Entirely unclothed sex seemed like a wasted opportunity, he found little excitement in the touch of skin when it was so readily available. Remus didn’t seem to mind it, he had stopped trying to undress them both within the first week.
Remus had been a revelation. Harry had long realised the freedom in giving himself over to another, but he hadn’t understood what a difference it would make to trust the other person. He could trust Remus to take care of him and know his limits, allowing Harry to truly relinquish control in a way he hadn’t felt able to before. The sex was incredible — despite the fact that Remus refused to choke him — but there was still that something missing that Harry craved. It was time to break the unspoken rules that they seemed to have developed.
It was time, finally, to talk about it.
It didn’t start the way Harry had envisioned. Remus barely seemed to register him as he arrived home and hung his cloak on the hook in the hallway. He walked past Harry silently, and Harry followed him up the stairs, along the corridor and into the drawing room. He watched as Remus drew the curtains and lit the fire, filling the large room with dancing shadows. Harry readied himself, mind reeling with all the things he wanted to say, wondering where he should start. He opened his mouth, but suddenly Remus turned and was on him, hands and mouth and teeth, pulling him in, kissing, nipping, owning. Harry melted into it, gave himself up to it, as he always did. He couldn’t help it, not with Remus.
The lightest touch on his shoulders and Harry dropped to his knees, hands behind his back, waiting. Rough fingers gently traced along his jaw and he tilted his head needily into the contact. This hadn’t been the plan, they were supposed to be talking but Remus was in front of him, quiet and dominant and hard
and talking wasn’t a priority anymore. Harry was tired of Remus coming home and shutting himself away, he’d wanted to capture his attention. He’d certainly done that. Remus’s fingertips swept down Harry’s face and Harry obeyed the silent command, closing his eyes. That familiar thrill rolled through Harry, the suspense of not knowing what was about to happen, but knowing with a frightening certainty that it was going to be amazing. Remus always took care of him.
“Up.” Remus’s voice was deep and gravelly. The sound went straight to Harry’s cock. He stood, following easily when he felt a steady tug at his collar. They only moved a short distance across the room, Remus taking his hands and placing them upon something firm and soft — an armchair, Harry deduced. It was nice to have something to hold on to, to have a way to orient himself.
“I have something for you,” Remus said quietly, hot breath tickling Harry’s ear. “Hold still,”
Harry felt something encircling him, like a sturdy material. A hand held it flush to his chest and he could feel the boning beneath Remus’s firm palm. A corset. Harry’s mind raced as heat rushed to his cheeks. He’d never even considered wearing anything like that before and as Remus’s strong hands adjusted and tied the lacing along his spine Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wondered what colour it was, if it was frilly, if he would look hot or ridiculous in it. He wished he could see. He wished he could disappear. He wished Remus would tie it tighter.
Then Harry realised, he wasn’t wearing it for Remus. It was for him.
Remus finished with the lacing and rested his hands on Harry’s hips, clothed erection nuzzling into the cleft of his arse. Harry leant back into the contact.
“Is this alright? I can tighten it later, when the time is right.”
Harry nodded, the initial embarrassment making way for arousal as the weight of Remus’s offer sunk in. He was willing to do it. He was finally going to indulge Harry’s need for breathplay.
“Do you want to see?”
After a brief pause, Harry nodded. Remus’s hands on his hips steered him to turn ninety degrees.
“Then look, Harry.”
Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing before a full-length mirror. The corset was black, with silver stitching. It didn’t look effeminate, as Harry worried it might. It fit his figure perfectly, as if it were made just for him. His attention drifted to Remus. He liked the way they looked together in that moment. Remus, fully dressed, the powerful presence behind him, quiet yet commanding. Harry, in just a corset and collar, ready to obey, ready to please.
“It suits you,” Remus said calmly, but the way he supported the statement by slowly grinding against Harry’s arse belied his true feelings. “Show me what you need.”
Harry turned his head, lips parted in invitation. Remus leant down to kiss him and Harry nipped at his lower lip, hand coming up to fist the front of Remus’s shirt. He wanted it hard, rough. He knew Remus would understand.
As they pulled apart Remus gave a contented hum. “Now?”
Harry nodded again. Fingering could be fun, it certainly had its own merits, but it wasn’t something Harry particularly needed — not like some other guys seemed to, like they just couldn’t take a cock without it. Usually he would enjoy their foreplay, but with the promise of the corset Harry was feeling impatient. He couldn’t wait to find out if it would work, if it would be enough. Remus turned him quickly and shoved him over the back of the armchair. Harry made himself comfortable, spreading his legs for balance and for Remus’s easy access.
“Word?” Remus asked as he flicked his wand. The mirror moved to the other side of the chair, so that Harry could clearly see himself and Remus behind him.
“Um…” Harry had briefly become distracted by the mirror. “Apple,” he confirmed. It was always apple. The first time Remus had unexpectedly asked him for a safeword, Remus had just eaten one. Harry could taste it on him.
“If I’m to give you what you need, I must see you.”
Harry nodded his understanding. Remus needed the mirror to watch him, to make sure he didn’t take things too far. As safe as Remus was trying to make it, breathplay would never be without its risks. The reminder sent a thrill straight to Harry’s cock. He heard Remus conjure some lube and the rustle as he parted his work robes. Harry braced himself.
The slick head of Remus’s cock journeyed down his crease and up again, teasingly slow, pausing to press against his puckered entrance on each pass. Harry shuddered with anticipation, spread his legs a little wider, forehead resting against his folded arms on the back of the chair. With one hand on the small of Harry’s back, pressing the knot of the lacing into his skin, Remus guided his cock slowly inside. Harry relished the slight edge of discomfort as Remus gradually rocked deeper, just how Harry liked it. Just how he needed it.
Remus’s hips came to rest against Harry’s buttocks and he leant over Harry, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder, fingers making soothing circles against Harry’s hips. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I need to see you.”
“Make me,” Harry whispered, more pleading than demanding.
Fingers tangled in Harry’s hair and pulled back sharply. Harry arched his back with a groan, looking up into his own reflection. His face was red, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead already. The slow drag of Remus’s cock as he drew out made him moan, eyes wide and fixed on Remus’s hungry face. He thrust back in fast, hard, forcing Harry’s eyes to shut and his toes to curl as he cried out — Remus’s fingers pulling at his scalp a constant and unyielding pressure.
Remus began a steady pace, fucking Harry deep and watching, always watching. As Harry’s breathing increased he started to feel the corset constricting him, but it wasn’t enough. He waited, though. He trusted Remus.
Remus paused his thrusts as he adjusted his footing, swapping which hand was in Harry’s hair and bringing his other in a fist around the bow that fastened the ribbon at the bottom of the corset. He thrust in again at a different angle, hitting Harry’s prostate. Harry tried to shout out but the sound broke off when Remus pulled harshly at the ribbon, tightening the corset suddenly around Harry’s chest. It loosened again quickly and Harry gave a small cough, more due to the fact that he hadn’t been expecting it. Harry could see Remus in the mirror, watching him more closely than ever. Harry gave him a brief smile and Remus smirked slightly in response. He resumed fucking into Harry’s prostate, pulling slowly and steadily at the corset, gradually restricting Harry’s breathing. Desperate little cut-off sounds escaped him as he struggled for adequate breath. His chest heaved against the corset as Remus continued to tighten it.
Harry began to feel light headed. All he could think about was his breathing and being fucked. All he could feel was the tightness around his chest and Remus’s hard cock inside him. He was empty of all else — all worries, regrets, guilt, sorrow, grief — for this little while, he was free.
Air. The corset loosened and Harry could breathe again. He sucked in desperate breaths, coughing them out again, pushing himself up shakily from where he had slumped over the armchair. Remus hadn’t stopped, Harry didn’t want him to. He wanted Remus’s hands back in his hair and pulling at the ribbons of the corset. Harry’s hard cock was bumping constantly against the back of the chair with Remus’s thrusts, delicious yet inadequate friction. He looked into the mirror. Remus stared back, bottom lip caught between his teeth. His robes were askew, his collarbone on display. Harry wanted to lick the sweat from it.
A light smack to his thigh snapped Harry out of his trance and he let loose a breath he hadn’t knowingly held. Stern eyes bore into him. “Do that again and I will stop. I must monitor your breathing. Clear?”
“Yes, Sir. Don’t stop, please,” Harry whined, as earnestly as he could manage.
Remus seemed satisfied and Harry moaned as he took hold of the ribbon once more. His other hand skimmed along Harry’s spine, into his hair, but then Remus paused, his thrusts slowing. Harry waited for those long, strong fingers to tense around his messy strands, but they didn’t. He didn’t take his eyes off the mirror, watching Remus watch him. Remus’s fingers moved down to Harry’s nape. Slowly, his hand slid around Harry’s neck, coming to rest around the front, Harry’s Adam’s Apple nestled in the vee between Remus’s thumb and forefinger. He could feel his own pulse thrumming against Remus’s fingers. Harry knew that Remus wouldn’t apply any pressure — it wouldn’t be safe, he’d been clear about that — but Remus knew what Harry needed. He needed that reminder of the risk, he needed Remus to cement his power over him. He needed Remus to be able to hurt him.
And to know that he wouldn’t.
Remus pulled him up by the chin and the corset until he stood up straight, Remus’s cock buried deep and pressing against his prostate. Their eyes met again in the mirror. Harry’s eyes and mouth widened as Remus pulled on the lacing, but he didn’t break eye contact. Remus leant in, whispering hot and filthy into Harry’s ear.
“Such a lovely little whore. So well behaved, aren’t you?” Remus asked rhetorically as he moved his hips once more. Harry moaned, chest heaving against the slowly tightening corset. “The perfect little cock slut. You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you, Harry? I bet you’d take two cocks if I asked you to.” Remus’s fingers flexed against his neck and Harry’s hand came up, covering Remus’s, squeezing slightly. Remus didn’t squeeze, but he fucked him harder, held the corset tighter. “You’d let me spank your perfect little arse until tears ran down your pretty face, and still beg me for more because I told you to. You’ll do anything for me. Won’t you, sweetheart?” Harry choked out a wordless sound, gasping for air as Remus suddenly released the lacing once more. He felt light headed and free and so fucking close. He managed a small nod. “Then come
Once Harry had dragged in a few ragged breaths, Remus pulled the ribbon again, taking it between his teeth. He kept the corset taut as he reached around Harry to take hold of his cock. He kept watching in the mirror, kept his fingers against Harry’s pulse point, constantly monitoring for changes, signs. Harry bucked against him haphazardly, back onto his cock, forward into his fist with no real rhythm or vigour but desperate for release. Remus shifted his hand on Harry’s neck slightly, still feeling his pulse but positioning his elbow against Harry’s sternum, pinning him back against Remus’s chest. Harry stilled, giving himself up to Remus’s ministrations, head resting back against Remus’s collarbone.
“Come,” he whispered again through gritted teeth, squeezing his cock and twisting his fist at the head as he thrust hard into Harry’s prostate. Harry stiffened silently, eyes wide and mouth open. When his eyes closed and a weak moan tried to leave his lips Remus spat the ribbon from his mouth. Harry was coming, body jerking in Remus’s arms, cock spurting over the back of the armchair, but the corset hadn’t loosened. Remus hadn’t expected it to stay taut. A wave of panic overcame him, he needed to be in control, he needed to act with precision and care and he had failed. The corset was still restricting Harry as he came but Remus was the only thing keeping Harry from falling to the floor. He hurriedly shoved him forward, over the armchair and hooked his finger into the lacing, quickly wrenching each cross of material looser one by one.
“Harry?” He knew the concern was clear in his voice as he stepped to Harry’s side and swept his hair out of the way. Harry rolled his head to the side, managing a lopsided grin despite still breathing heavily and coughing a little.
“I’m sorry,” he added weakly. Harry tried to laugh, but only started a coughing fit. He sank to his knees and Remus worriedly knelt beside him, reaching out again to push the hair from his face but Harry stopped him. He kept his hand on Remus’s forearm as he composed himself.
“I can’t do this anymore, Remus.” Harry’s voice was croaky and he coughed some more. Remus had expected that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I’ll… pack my things after dinner.”
Harry shook his head vigorously, hand tightening on Remus’s arm. “That, it came out wrong.” He drew himself up a little, raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “I mean, I can’t pretend this is just sex anymore. I — I care about you.”
“I care about you too, of course, but —”
“No!” Harry sighed emphatically, finally meeting Remus’s gaze. “Listen… I care
about you, okay?”
The knut finally dropped. Harry was falling for him, too. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say that he loved him. It was true, he was arse over tit in love with Harry but now wasn’t the time, on the back of Harry’s own albeit lesser confession. He didn’t know how to feel. Harry could do better. He deserved
But Remus was loathe to deny him. Harry had spent too much of his life being told what he must do and couldn’t do by older men. He deserved to make his own decisions.
To make his own mistakes.
“That is a surprise. But a welcome one.”
When Harry came to his senses, Remus would let him go. For now, he reached out and pulled a relieved Harry against his chest. Harry’s arms wrapped around him and Remus slowly unlaced the corset. When he’d pulled through the last ribbon, Harry leant away from Remus enough for the corset to fall from his chest. Remus tossed it aside and scooped Harry up easily, carrying him around and then depositing him in the armchair.
“Wait, but you haven’t —” Harry reached for Remus’s deflating cock but Remus stilled his hand, lacing their fingers.
“Later, sweetheart,” he said softly, running his thumb along Harry’s jaw as he pressed their foreheads together. “Rest now.”
Harry nodded, wriggling about in the chair to get comfortable. Remus summoned a blanket and laid it over him, spelling the fire to burn warmer before turning to leave.
Harry paused for a moment, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.
“I really mean it, you know.”
Remus stepped back towards him, leaning down for a gentle kiss.
“So do I,” he replied with a small smile. “Rest.” He laid a final kiss upon Harry’s forehead and left his lover to sleep.Fin