"Captain Black," Bill/Tonks/Charlie, NC-17 Title: Captain Black Author: kethlenda Characters: Bill/Tonks/Charlie Rating: NC-17 Warnings: fake non-con, brief food smut (rum smut?), brief whipping, D/s, bondage, characters being silly Word Count: 2,680 Summary: Tonks, Bill, and Charlie discover an old pirate trunk in the attic of Grimmauld Place. Smut ensues. Author's notes: I'm sure I've played fast and loose with Who Was at Grimmauld Place When. I could go back and come up with an exact date and be anal about it, but I think someone has borrowed my OotP, and anyway, it's gratuitous pr0n! ;)
The awkward pirate dialogue probably owes more than a little to the Inquisition scene from Good Omens.
"My mum always says the secret to cleaning a messy room is perseverance and a healthy dose of elbow grease," said Tonks.
Bill and Charlie both groaned, as if wondering when their irreverent, smart-assed friend had been Transfigured into an anal-retentive housewife.
Tonks grinned. "I've got a secret of my own, though. My secret to cleaning a messy room is booze. And lots of it."
"I like your secret much better," said Bill.
"Got any Firewhisky around this wretched old excuse for a townhouse?" Charlie asked.
A search of Grimmauld Place's kitchen turned up none of Ogden's finest, but they did locate an unopened bottle of some sort of Muggle rum with a picture of a pirate on the label. "This'll do," said Tonks. "Unless you're dead set on breathing fire like one of those ghastly pets of yours…"
Charlie grinned and shrugged. "I'll live."
Tonks tucked the bottle into the pocket of her robes, and they went upstairs to the attic. Charlie was grumbling. It had something to do with coming in for the holidays hoping for a break from the daily grind and finding an arseload of work to do instead.
"I'm right there with you," said Bill, "but if we don't get rid of some of the cursed rubbish around this place, it won't be much good as headquarters."
"Oh, I agree, but still…"
The attic door opened upon chaos. "Bloody hell," said Tonks. She could tell, from the crestfallen looks on the blokes' faces, that she spoke for all three of them. Whatever they had been expecting, this was, well, worse.
"I think the dust bunnies have dust bunnies," said Charlie.
"Good thing we have rum," said Bill.
Tonks ventured into the room first, and immediately tripped over something hard and heavy. "Oof!" she grunted as she bellyflopped onto the whatever-it-was. She couldn't see it very well in the half-light filtering through the tiny attic window, but a cautious exploration with her hands led to the theory that it was some kind of trunk.
"You all right?" asked Bill. He leaned down to help her back up.
"I'm fine," she said. "I didn't break the bottle." She pulled the intact rum bottle out of her pocket with a flourish.
"I guess we might as well start with this old trunk," said Charlie with a sigh.
Bill examined it first, murmuring curse-detection spells over it, making sure it wouldn't bite or release poison gas or any of the other things that Black family heirlooms tended to do. "That's bloody strange," he said quietly.
"What?" asked Tonks.
"There doesn't seem to be any magic on this at all. Even the lock's Muggle. Alohomora."
The rusty lock twisted open with a mighty creak. Tonks stood back a little as Bill pushed the lid open, just in case, but all that came out was more dust.
"Looks like old clothes in there," said Charlie. "Pass the rum."
Charlie opened the bottle, took a swig, and passed it to Tonks. She took a healthy gulp as well, first wincing and then smiling as the fire slid down her throat. "Et tu, Bill?"
Charlie reached into the chest and pulled out a tricorne hat. It looked like it may have been black at some point in its long and storied lifetime. "What in Merlin's name is this? A tea-cosy?"
Tonks cracked up. When she'd caught her breath, she explained. "No, no, it's a bloody hat. A Muggle hat. From the eighteenth century."
"Why would a Black have a Muggle hat?" Charlie scratched his head, which was quite cute, really.
Meanwhile, Bill had discovered a large piece of some kind of dark fabric. He unfolded it to reveal a skull and crossbones. "Whoever this fellow was, he must have been a nasty piece of work. They didn't have Death Eaters back then, but…"
"That's a pirate flag," said Tonks, who knew all about pirates from all the Muggle TV she used to watch with Dad when she was a kid.
"You mean, ships and treasure and all that?" asked Bill.
Memory clicked in Tonks's mind. "Of course! There was a Black who was a pirate. Mum told me all about him. Captain Edmund Black was his name, or just Captain Ned. He was a Squib, you see. They blasted him off the tapestry and sent him off to make his own fortune."
There was a clinking sound from inside the trunk; Charlie was sifting gold coins through his fingers. "Looks like he did."
Tonks nodded. "They took him back in when he was about to get caught by the government. Funny how they didn't care that he was a Squib then. The Blacks have a long history of pissing away all their money and then having to marry some. Or in this case, suck up to some."
"Look at these boots!" Bill had either forgotten his earlier caution about curses or had checked the boots so quickly Tonks had missed it; he was already kicking off his dragon-hide boots and putting on Captain Ned Black's crumbling leather ones. "The Captain must've had big feet. Like me!" Bill stood up and strutted around a bit in the old boots. Tonks giggled.
"Not to mention a big head." Tonks turned and saw Charlie, looking quite dashing with the tricorne perched on his head.
"Oh, you two look a sight, I wish I had my camera."
"You ought to dress up too," said Bill.
Tonks rummaged in the trunk and found more gold, plus some old flaking rolls of parchment that just might be treasure maps and would have to be investigated later, but no more clothes. "I can't find anything for a…what d'you call 'em--pirate wench!"
Bill tugged on a swath of lace peeking out from another old chest and held it up. It looked like old-fashioned dress robes, which had possible been white at some point and were now a sort of dingy grey, or maybe that was just the light. "You can be the aristocratic lady we've kidnapped!" He tossed the gown to her.
"The rum seems highly appropriate at this point," said Charlie, chugging some more. "I almost don't mind not having Ogden's when I've got this hat on…"
"Come on, Tonks, the dress."
"Oh, all right," she said, heat flaring in her cheeks. I'll go change." She turned to leave the attic room.
"Silly girl," said Bill. "Have I or have I not seen you naked before?"
Tonks turned back to look at him, and a mélange of memories came rushing back, tumbling over each other without order or sequence: hands wandering with adolescent frenzy in a broom closet on the second floor; tongues exploring each other's secrets in that clearing in the Forbidden Forest, gasping with unfettered pleasure that one stolen night in his own room when it was some holiday or other and the others had all gone home. "Yeah, I guess you have," she said, wondering why her voice sounded so breathless and husky. "He hasn't, though," she said, gesturing toward Charlie.
"It's all right. I don't mind."
He was leering, Tonks just knew it. She couldn't see her blush, but she was sure it was lighting up the gloom like Rudolph's nose. (Not like the boys would catch the reference if she made it.)
Bill's smile twisted and became something darker, more bestial. "If you were a highborn lady we'd made off with, we'd make you strip in front of us."
Tonks bit her lip and tried to figure out why she thought the whole idea was so sexy all of a sudden. "Let me have another shot of rum, and we'll talk."
The rum seemed to stoke the fire in her cheeks and in other, less mentionable areas, and to spread it to the rest of her body. She felt all flushed and all afire. It was too hot up here for robes anyway, wasn't it? She took a deep breath, set down the bottle, and looked down so as not to meet Bill's eyes. She pulled her robes off.
One of them whistled. She wasn't sure which. She grabbed the antique gown and stepped into it. It fit well, even without using her Metamorphmagus powers, and she reflected that she must have inherited the exact figure of some long-forgotten Black. Aunt Bella would be horrified, she thought.
She had trouble fastening it, though; the owner of the gown had clearly employed a very skilled house-elf. The damned thing buttoned up the back, all the way from arse to neck, with tiny, delicate pearl buttons. "Bloody hell," she swore. "Could one of you help me out with this?"
Bill stepped behind her and began expertly doing up the buttons. His hands brushed the bare skin of her back with the unconscious familiarity that only old lovers have. How can it be so awkward and so ordinary at once? He reached the upper buttons and paused, moving his hands to the front of the dress to caress her breasts through the dusty lace. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers circled, teasing her nipples to hardness, then returned to the fastenings of the gown as if nothing had ever happened.
"I don't know, Bill, I like it better undone. Especially if we're supposed to flog her. I think pirates do that."
"Blimey, you're right. I don’t think the good Captain left us a whip, though."
"I can fix that. I'll be right back."
When Charlie had gone, Bill seized Tonks by the upper arms and turned her around, pushing her gently but surely toward a low beam that hung from the ceiling. "We haven't got any masts or riggings or whatever pirates have, so this'll have to do." He grasped her hands and pulled them up to the beam. "Incarcerous," he said, and silver ropes snaked around her wrists, binding her firmly to the beam.
If they were joking before, they're damn well not joking now, she thought as Bill undid some of the buttons he'd just done up. She felt a breeze on her upper back.
"If you honestly don't like this," said Bill, "all you have to do is say no. You know that, right?"
Tonks nodded.
Bill picked up the rum bottle and drank deeply. "Good stuff," he said. "I bet it'd be better if I licked it straight off your skin."
Tonks giggled. "Did pirates do that?"
"I don't much care if they did or didn't." He tugged the gown down to bare her shoulders, then tipped the bottle and poured the chill liquid onto her collarbone. She shivered, then moaned as Bill's hot tongue licked it off. He pressed against her, letting her feel the hard cock beneath his robes.
"I was right," he said, repeating the process on the other side. He hadn't been this deliberate when they were in school. Their little affair had been all heated gropes and frantic tussles. She had to admit she liked this new, dominant Bill even better.
"Arr!" cried a voice from the doorway. She'd half-forgotten about Charlie, but there he was, brandishing a long bullwhip and still wearing the ridiculous tricorne. She imagined it must have some function in the training of dragons. They've got thicker hide than I do…
"Ooh, let me have that," said Bill.
"Not on your life," said Charlie. "You don't know what you're doing. I do." He stepped up behind Tonks; she heard the creaking of boards as he moved closer, then farther, presumably gauging the distance and the length of the whip.
Bill was in front of her then, bending to kiss her, letting his hands wander over her shoulders and her lace-swathed breasts. The pleasure was so languid, so soft, she could almost forget about Charlie and the whip--
Crack! The noise split the air, and a moment later the tip of the whip lashed out and stung her, shocked her, but as she caught her breath she realized the sound had been worse than the actual pain. He does know what he's doing, doesn't he?
"Arr!" he said again. Tonks didn't know what Charlie knew about pirates, but obviously he was under the impression they said "Arr" every ten seconds or so. She laughed, and it was half amusement, half nervousness, half relief that the whip hadn’t been as bad as she'd expected. Wait, that's three halves, she thought, and that only made her giggle harder.
"Ought to gag her," said Charlie, toying with her errant mouth with his fingers. "Sounds like a proper pirate thing to do, don't you think?"
"I've got a better idea. Avast!" Bill shouted. Captain Black's boots clomped on the floorboards as he moved closer. "Better ways of shutting her up."
He set a crate in front of where Tonks was tied and climbed up onto it, pulling up his robes to expose his hard, red-flushed cock.
"Suck it, wench," said Bill as his cock poked at Tonks's lips. She took him into her mouth, familiar and yet strange after all this time. She wanted to grab his arse, pull him to her, but her hands were still tied and all she could do to show him how she wanted him was suck him as if her life depended upon it.
He bucked against her, driving his cock hard into her mouth, and she licked up and down the length of him, reveling in the feel of it. A hand clutched a hank of her hair--which one was it? Did it matter?
Her arse was suddenly cold as Charlie flipped the skirt of the white robe up to her waist, baring her to him. "Arr! I see why you kidnapped this one, matey! A succulent wench if there ever was one!" His muscled arm seized her waist in an iron grip, and he drove into her cunt from behind, filling her deliciously. He's thicker, I think. I'm not sure I remember rightly--I'll have to test my theory later--
She looked up at Bill and saw his face contort in near-ecstasy; she redoubled her efforts on his cock as Charlie fucked her hard and steady. She flowed with the rhythm, letting Charlie's thrusts move her to and fro on Bill's shaft, then Bill's hand (so it was his!) tightened in the spikes of her hair and he spilled his seed into her mouth. He drew back, catching his breath, and Charlie thrust harder, harder, until he groaned loudly and filled her cunt with his own fluids.
"Umm…guys? Captains? My hands are falling asleep."
"Oh, right," said Bill, untangling the silver ropes of the Incarcerous Curse so that Tonks's arms could fall to her sides. "I mean, Arr!"
Tonks ran her hands up and down her arms to encourage the blood to flow, but she thought that maybe all her blood was busy in other places. Her clit throbbed and she hoped that piratical decadence extended to returning the favor.
"Avast!" said Bill. "I do think we've neglected ye, wench!"
"Mmm," said Tonks as Bill sat her down on the crate, kneeling behind her and nuzzling her neck as his hand found the wetness between her thighs. "Yes, there," she moaned as his fingers slipped over her clit. Charlie knelt at her side and muttered something incomprehensible into her ear, and pinched her nipple cruelly, twisting it in his fingers so that she wriggled against the press of Bill's fingers and came hard, tangled in their arms.
"Somebody's rolling over in her grave over what I've got up to in her dress," laughed Tonks when she'd caught her breath.
"Nah, I'm sure the old wench would've liked getting abducted by pirates," said Charlie.
"Especially pirates like us," said Bill, and Tonks couldn't help but agree with them.
"We haven't got much cleaned, though," said Charlie dolefully.
"Bollocks," said Bill. "I think Tonks's cleaning methods are quite…satisfactory." He laid her back upon the crate and slid the skirts of the lacy gown up her legs. "In fact, I think we ought to keep working as long as we can."